#I've had this idea in my head since January of this year

[historical-fashion-polls]

artist event!

hi my lovelies! 💕

so, even though the poll isn't over yet, I've had an overwhelmingly positive response to the idea of doing an artist event (which you can read about in more detail here), so I think I'm going to go ahead with that plan!

as I mention in that post, this likely won't be until january, and although it seems early to start planning something for next year, the more of a head start I can get on this the better, since my fall will be very busy

so, I am here to ask you all what artists you would like to see in that event!

they need to be artists who have depicted historical garments (preferably from their own time period, although we're going to have some that are more fantastical). artists who have done portraiture tend to work especially well, just because people tend to care about how their garments are portrayed in portraiture

I'm aiming for a total of 31 (one for each day of january), and I have nine so far:

Mary Cassatt

Anthony van Dyck

Jean-Honore Fragonard

Jean-Marc Nattier

John Singelton Copley

John William Waterhouse

Francois Boucher

Elisabeth Louise Vigee-Lebrun

John Singer Sargent

so please let me know who else you would like to see, and I'll keep a running list! comments on this post or messages to my askbox would probably work best, just because they're easier to keep track of than notes/replies ☺️

thank you so much for your help with this and for everyone's enthusiasm for this event in particular and the blog in general! ☺️💕 I truly appreciate you all so much! 🥰🥰

[asaka-lucy-dr-rc]

Danganronpa × RAIN CODE Crossover ①

Yuma and Shinigami meet the Danganronpa characters for the first time. (In this manga, only the protagonist of DR2 appears.)

日本語版はコチラ。

*This may not make much sense to non-Japanese speakers, so there is an explanation at the end.

------

Background information: There are four different ways to read the name "日向", the most common being "Hinata", but there are also the readings "Hyuga", "Himukai", and "Himuka". Also, the character "創" is generally read as "Sou", and the reading "Hajime" is a special reading that is only used for people's names. So it is generally difficult to read this name correctly without clues. The reason why Shinigami was disappointed is that Hinata Hajime sounds much softer than Hyuga Sou, the reading she first predicted. Hinata and Hajime are not really lame. However, the name Hinata could be used as a first name for girls, so it gives a cute impression to Japanese speakers. 😄

[nicksolemnlyswears]

FORGED UNDER FIRE

blurb: when brennan sorrengail died he left more than his family and a dragon behind. he left his best friend. he left his lover. he left his unborn child.

pairing: brennan sorrengail x rider! reader

word count: 1.1k

a/n: first and foremost, this is unedited. second, i've had this in my drafts since i finished reading fourth wing in september. i kinda wanted to make it a fic but lost some steam. i don't think i'll continue this but if i do it will be shorter blurbs/moments rather than the 10k monstrosities i like to write. i figured it wouldn't do anything in my drafts so here you go!

i like the idea of brennan having someone he befriends and takes under his wing while at basgiath war college. there's so much we don't know about him and this is me filling some of the gaps with the wonderful fanfiction.

i hope you enjoy! i honestly love fourth wing so damn much and i can't wait for onyx storm. i even have tickets for rebecca yarros tour in january. so yes, read, enjoy and let me know what you think!

The cold wind drifted around you, ruffling the grass and the branches of the dispersed trees. The sunrise was turning from a beautiful deep blue to a pale pink that bled into orange. The chill bites into your cheeks and nose, reddening them, but you welcomed it. It numbed the pain that continued to tear through your heart.

“You must stop thinking so much about him.” Your dragon Calliss shares through your link. She’s the angry voice in your head reminding you to move forward.

“I thought we agreed I could wallow in my misery this time of year.”

The day that marks his death came and went yet it left you with a whirlwind of emotions. You should’ve moved on long ago, the pain in your chest turned into a soft ache that you remember fondly as you rebuild your life without him. Still, it remains a deep gash that continues to bleed and keeps you up at night, unmoving.

“You have better things to do.” Calliss reminds you. Its inscription day and people from all over the continent will be arriving to drop off their children.

“Mhm. Yeah, sure.”

The red dagger tail huffs behind you. The air coming from her nostrils counteracting the cold breeze. She’s moody because you shut her out instead of letting her help.

The ground lightly shakes and the air stirs as another dragon lands near Calliss. General Sorrengail’s brown dragon, Aimsir. The older woman approaches you and sits down beside you on the damp grass. Despite her reputation she’s been kind to you, patient even. She’s kept you close, tucked under her wing just like he used to.

Your signet allowed Lilith to keep you closer than most. Otherwise, she’d have no choice but to leave you on your own to battle your emotional wounds.

It tends to weigh in your conscious that she only does it because you have the last piece of him. Had it not been the case, would she have cared as much?

At the same time, you’re eternally grateful. Had it not been for Lilith Sorrengail you would definitely be cold and dead. Despite all the bad days, there have been good ones woven in and you wouldn’t trade those for nothing in the world.

“Violet goes today,” Lilith says, looking at you sternly.

“You sure this is what you want to do?” You ask her, keeping your gaze on the mountain and the sunrise.

Lilith has discussed Violet's inscription with you time and time again. It's the one thing she continues to think about since the death of her husband, which is unusual. The woman is confident in her decisions, she's calculating and precise. A wonderful quality for a commander, but it falters when it comes to her children.

“Do you think she won’t be able to make it?”

You sigh and look down at the grass before your eyes shift up to look at her. “She’ll make it. She might've been raised by a scribe but she was also raised by you and Mira and Brennan which means Violet won't go down without a fight. She won’t go down easy. It is my belief dragons respect that.”

Saying his name is difficult. It's heavy on your tongue as you enunciate the syllables. So familiar yet strange at the same time.

Lilith hums in agreement, leaving a period of silence to hang in the air. She’s giving you time to talk, to bring him up. When you don’t she takes matters into her own hands.

“I can’t believe it’s been five years.”

“Only five and it feels like a century,” you scoff, pulling at the grass blades near your crossed feet. Calliss and Aimsir shuffle behind you two, making the ground tremble. It used to scare you as a cadet.

“You should get out there again, try and find something that at least resembles what you had with Brennan,” Lilith dares say.

You gasp in a sharp intake of air at the mention of his name. It’s not a surprise for Lilith to suggest such a thing. After all, it’s been five long years since Brennan left, died. But, does she not feel like she’s betraying her own son by suggesting this?

“She’s right,” Calliss voice purrs in your ear. She’s suggested it more than once, begging you to ‘release the tension you have inside.’ You've tried but the sense of betrayal that follows reopens old wounds.

“Hush, Calliss.”

Calliss growls from behind you, voicing her displeasure at you telling her to quiet. Humans do not tell dragons what to do.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able replicate what I had with Bren. It was forged at Basgiath under the threat of imminent death. I was another person there who needed help desperately and Bren was the perfect person to guide me. He was one of a kind, our circumstances were one of a kind. It might’ve been short lived but it held so much value.” You give Lilith a smile and shake your head, “I have everything I need. I’m making a name for myself, which was what I always wanted. I was married, and I have a child who I love to death.”

Lilith nods offering you one of her rare smiles. She stands, dusting off her clothes from any sticking grass. “Speaking of, we have to make our way back before he wakes and brings the house down.”

You nod and laugh, “Oh, he’s going to throw a fit when Violet goes.”

Your son and Violet are as thick as thieves. They get along well and Violet loves to spoil him. She’s never one to turn down babysitting or entertain him when you need a break. After all, he's what she has left of her brother.

“Maybe Mira will get him to calm down,” Lilith hopes, climbing up Aimsirs leg.

You have one question for Lilith. From the ground, glancing up at her you ask. “How do you do it? It’s been five years and I feel just as heart broken as I did that day.”

Brennan’s father passed away about a year ago. His heart giving out on him. All because of Brennan’s death. You mourned him too, he had always been kind to you and he loved his grandchild. It might’ve been the only reason he held on for so long.

Lilith sighs and takes a moment to form her words. “Your relationship was young and somewhat new, barely 4 years. He was the first person you trusted. You had your whole life ahead of you. My husband and I were together for nearly 30 years. We travelled all around Navarre, had three amazing children, and we watched them grow up. I wish he was here to see what will become of Violet but,” she pauses without finishing her sentence. “My point is you were full of what ifs and places to go. It’s hard to move on from that when you keep trying to make sense of it.”

“I wish I knew I was pregnant before he died so I could’ve told him. Maybe things would’ve been different,” you confess.

“Possibly. I know Brennan would’ve loved him.” With those last words General Sorrengail flies off, leaving you and Calliss alone once more.

“No more moping. We have a job to do,” she says, urging you to get on her back.

“Thank you for being patient with me,” you tell her honestly.

Calliss is opinionated but she wants what’s best for you. She continues to feel all the pain Brennan’s death caused you. All her snide remarks are only meant to encourage you to manage your pain and move forward.

“Beware. It’s running thin today.”

thoughts?

[moonlight-prose]

SIN TI

a/n: years ago when the falcon and the winter soldier came out, i wrote a one shot that has solidified itself as one of my favorite fic i've written. it's a friends to lovers arc and while i wanted to end it there. i couldn't stop myself from giving them another chapter to their love story. so i hope y'all enjoy. there's plenty more torres fics to come. also a massive thank you to my favorite person @soulores who bounced ideas off me and helped me with some of the spanish (i'm learning to fix up my fluency i promise).

note: this fic in my head is a latine reader, but there's no specifications/descriptions so imagine who you wish!

summary: five years have passed. five years since he boarded a plane and left you behind to wait diligently for the man who would never return. when letters and patchy phone calls failed to keep the spark of your relationship alive, you find each other again. only this time as two entirely different people.

word count: 11.2k+

pairing: joaquín torres x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, epistolary beginning, angst, broken hearts, long distance relationships, epistolary style at first, romance, friends to lovers, arguments, passionate declarations of love, fingering, p in v sex, alcohol consumption, biting, cumplay, rough sex, desperation, yearning + pining, he's got a filthy fucking mouth, more angst, the grief of failed love, second chance romance, forever.

SIEMPRE

December 5, 2023

Mi amor,

It’s hard to believe you left only a few weeks ago and somehow I miss you more than I could say in words. If it were possible I’d have sent a longer letter than this. I’d tell you how I miss our mornings spent hunting for coffee, our nights wandering the streets. I’d tell you I miss your lips. But that seems cliché given the circumstances.

I wanted you to stay. And yet…I know how important it was that you go. You need this. You need to figure out where you exist in this world after living in it alone for five years. So I hope you discover what’s always been meant to find you. And when you do, please know that I’ll be here waiting for you.

Back where it all began.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

January 8, 2024

Mi corazón,

God I miss your voice, your handwriting, your fucking smile. I miss every part of you. If I told you what I’ve actually been thinking of you’d probably never forgive me for putting it down somewhere in permanent ink. No te culpo. I wish I had better news, or at least some stories to give you, but they’re kicking my ass even before my eyes open. Bright and early at dawn until my whole body is screaming.

I don’t want you to worry mi vida. Please don’t worry. I’m doing okay. I’m alive at least. Gracias a dios. Well I wouldn’t exactly say no to a candle being lit in my name (maybe to help with the constant wake up calls of how you felt that night). Tell Clara and Michael I miss them. Give mi mamá a kiss and drop some flowers off for pops. But most importantly do me a favor.

Wear them for me yeah corazón? They’re my “lost” pair (got reamed out for “losing” my first fucking pair of dog tags but it was worth it to give you a piece of me.) Keep ‘em on. And know that I’ll be fighting like hell to get my way back to you. Back to our spot, back to morning coffee runs and night walks in the city.

They’re yours. Just like I am.

Siempre te amaré.

-Yours forever Joaquín

January 16, 2024

Mi amor,

Thank you baby for the tags. I cried when I felt your name engraved in the metal. Just the feel of the letters reminded me of the way you’d draw on my papers in high school. They were so bad, but I think I still have a few of them in the back of my closet. Somehow that feels like a lifetime ago. I can tell you that I miss you—that’s true—but it’s not entirely the full truth. I never got a first date, rarely got a chance to see your eyes open when we woke up together, or drink shitty beer on the roof of my apartment.

I wish I could say that it doesn’t hurt to wait for you, but that would be a lie. And I can hear you in the back of my head saying: eres mentirosa bebita. And it makes me laugh.

This letter will probably find its way to you near Valentine’s Day. And I can’t have my brave pilot missing the fun. Don’t show anyone. Keep it in your wallet, and enjoy the late nights mi vida (pretend I’m there with my mouth to keep you company, or my hands, or my pussy).

We’ll find ourselves back in that queen sized bed soon enough—that I’m sure of. I will have to take a week off work just to get my fill of you; although even I have to admit that’ll take a long fucking time.

You and I both know I’ll never have enough.

I’ll be thinking of you, as I always do. Especially in our bed. Come home soon mi amor and I’ll be here when you finally do.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

February 16, 2024

Happy Valentine’s Day mi corazón.

You’ve got no idea what those Polaroids did to me. I think I touched myself fucking raw (or at least that’s what it feels like). I’ve got half a mind to frame them, proudly display my girl. But I know you might actually murder me, so I’ve got them where you asked—safe in my wallet. I’ve been thinking about you. Okay let me be honest. I always think about you. Seriously you fucked up my brain bebita before I left. Had me wrapped around your finger long before that night, but after…I’m going crazy without you.

Dios mío, yo también te extraño (probably more given how winded I get just thinking about you). And I wish I could say that I’ll be home eventually, but I don’t know. I wish I did. You’ve got no idea how much I wish I could find my way back to you. The air force is…it’s harder than I thought. Nothing I can’t handle.

Until then imagine me finally taking you out on that date. In fact plan it. Figure out where you wanna go, pick out an outfit that’ll drive me batshit, and I’ll be there. On that dance floor to finally finish what we started. Te amo mi corazón. More than you know.

Siempre te amaré.

-Yours forever Joaquín

February 20, 2024

Mi amor,

The thought of you has driven me insane. I actually sprayed your cologne on the pillow you slept on the last few days we were together, just to remind myself of what you smelled like. I also may have rode it. But that didn’t matter. It did nothing but make me ache. Te extraño mucho Joaquin.

I don’t know what to do with myself but go to work and wait for you to come home. But I’ve done what you said—I planned our date. Dinner at our favorite place, a night of drinks at Siempre, and dessert at the small ice cream parlor on the corner.

I want to believe you when you said you could handle the airforce, and I do, but something isn’t right. Por qué mientes mi amor? You forget, I know every piece of you. I know when you’re upset. I know when you are struggling and don’t want to say it, because you think you can bear the heaviness of the world. Even when you were younger you thought you could carry the weight of everyone’s troubles on your shoulders, but you don’t have to. I’m here. I’ll carry it with you.

You can tell me what’s wrong and I’ll promise to listen, to make it better however I can. What’s our love meant to be if not carrying one another through the harsh times of life?

Tell me everything amor. I’ll listen. I’ll save you this time around.

Have they told you when you’ll be able to visit? I know it’s only been a few months, but I just always wonder. If they haven’t I understand—I just miss you. But you know this. I won’t fill up this letter with misery, because you deserve more than that. Your mamá and I have dinner on Sunday’s now (she’s teaching me how to cook so I’ll promise to make a good meal for you).

Clara and Michael are together at last! And they’re worse than us in terms of PDA. I seriously wish you were here just to help me one up them. Give them a show. But that can wait. All of it can wait. As long as I know you’re coming home to me.

Please take care of yourself mi amor. Stay safe and I’ll be here making my apartment a home for the both of us.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

March 30, 2024

Mi amor,

I hope my last letter didn’t get lost on the way to you. I’ve heard it could happen. But I’m getting worried with this constant silence. Estas bien? Are they treating you okay? Is the base nice? I just need something to know you’re okay baby. Send a letter, find a way to call me, but don’t leave me with nothing.

I’m not the only one worried and you know it.

I hope you’re safe.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

May 18, 2024

Mi corazón,

I don’t know how to start this. I should have answered you earlier. Or sent something in return to your Valentine’s gift. Or shit I should have at least fought tooth and nail for a visitation day to come see you, but that’s no longer possible mi corazón. I’m being transferred to a base further away and I’m not sure when I’ll make it back. I don’t even know if they plan on giving me an idea on what’s going to happen with me, but that’s why I had to tell you.

Lo siento bebita. I’m…I’m just sorry. I love you, I always have and always will. But I can’t force you to wait for me forever. That’s not fair to you. And you deserve better than a man who could never gather the fucking nerve to tell you the truth. Waiting on a soldier like me shouldn’t be your future. So I’m doing what’s necessary.

I’m sorry.

I will always love you.

Forever.

- Joaquín

June 1, 2024

Fuck you Joaquín Torres. You don’t get to rip my heart out that way. You don’t get to end this without looking me in the eyes. Why? Why would you make me fall in love with you if you knew this would end? Why would you promise me forever when you never meant it to begin with? Tell me. Write a fucking letter and answer me!

I deserve the truth. All of it.

I know you are struggling and won’t tell me. I know you’re fighting for your life to keep up with the demands of the airforce and like to pretend you’re fine. But you’re not fine baby. You can’t lie to me and pretend nothing’s wrong. You just…you can’t do that to me. Please. Let me in amor, let me help.

I love you Joaquín.

I need you.

-Tu corazón

FIVE YEARS LATER

The coffee tasted much more bitter than what you remembered. A biting darkness that burned the back of your throat as you gulped down what you could in the fifteen minutes you had for lunch. Whatever food you packed sat forgotten about in your fridge. Another day rushing to the office, another day wandering the streets of a city you could paint with your eyes closed.

A piece of you echoed with the voices of all who came before you. Friends you made, found family that adopted you as their own. Streets overflowing with scents of arroz con pollo and Jamaica flowers boiling away in kitchens—open windows begging for some fresh air.

July scorched the streets with heat you learned to endure. Yet this year felt worse. A curse bestowed upon the people of New York without rhyme or reason.

You pressed a piece of ice to your neck, dabbing at the sweat sliding down your chest. In the hopes you might find some relief from this torture you were forced to endure. Working in an office that barely payed you enough for the rent of your apartment and was far too cheap to put money towards a working air conditioner. You calculated the numbers for them. They could afford it.

“Fuck the heat,” you moaned, wincing with the heat of your coffee.

“That skirt’s sexy mami.”

The sound of her voice was unmistakable. A soft drawled accent of someone who spent her days speaking Spanish more than she did English. You rolled your eyes, digging out another ice cube from what remained in your plastic cup—dropping it in between your breasts with a hiss.

“Tell me why we’re out here?” you asked, shifting as the ice slid lower, finding a spot beneath your breast.

She dropped onto the bench, yanking off a black blazer that looked like hell to be wearing. “Because if I have to spend another day in a court house I’m going to blow my brains out.”

“You work in a court house Clara.”

“Callate. Don’t fucking remind me.”

Her ebony curls were gathered at the top of her head, pinned in place with a familiar teal butterfly clip you lent her a year prior. At this point asking for it back felt irrelevant. She looked better with it than you ever did—never quite learning how to pin it effortlessly like her.

“We’re going out tonight,” she announced between swipes of lipstick, fixing makeup that was primed to perfection.

With a sigh you dug for another ice cube. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.” Her compact clicked shut. “I rarely see you anymore. Plus Michael got the night off so he’s joining us.”

“And where exactly are you dragging me?”

“Dancing.”

You groaned, sinking into the bench far enough to be drowned by the floor. Swallowed whole into the center of Earth—an escape from being whatever you forced yourself to pretend. An adult with a clear path, someone moved on from a heartbreak that ripped you to pieces, someone whole. Yet asking for that felt as if you were signing a life altering contract with gods who weren’t listening to your cries of anguish.

Clara knew you were suffering—she could see the exhaustion on your face—but her specialty was never empathetic talks. She spoke with actions. Loud, boisterous, displays of affection. Like dragging you around town when all you were concerned about was getting home to feed your cat.

“I don’t-”

“Think so,” she mimicked, clicking her tongue. “Ay Dios how many times are you gonna use that fucking excuse?”

“What excuse?” you exclaimed, fixing her with a glare she brushed off with a sigh.

“You need to resurrect yourself. I know you don’t want to talk about him—and I won’t—but you deserve to move on. He became a superhero-”

“Don’t even get me started.”

“Then why aren’t you letting yourself finally meet a future where you get to thrive?”

She was right. You knew every word out of her mouth echoed with enough truth to stab you in the chest. Five years passed before your very eyes and you barely gave yourself a chance to breathe. He’d been your best friend, your partner in crime all these years, and to live a life without him in it felt like a betrayal. Only you weren’t the one to issue the blade, you weren’t the one to open a wound so large it took everything in you not to bleed before her now.

The trail of red followed you on the bleak path ahead. A future without love, a life half lived.

He existed in the world as a hero—a monolithic piece of history the world clamored for. You were merely a mark on a past he might never mention, a brief lapse of youthful hope diminished by powers you held no control over.

What good was it to forget yourself? He certainly didn’t miss you; he barely even thought of you. Yet somewhere along the way you gave him every ounce of strength you should have reserved for yourself.

With a sigh you tossed the empty cup into the trash beside you. “Fine.”

She laughed with a glee that helped break through your melancholy stupor. “Let’s go mami!”

“Where are we going?” And with one word she sealed your fate.

“Siempre.”

The heels were a bad idea, the short silk mini dress was a bad idea, the whole night reeked with poor decisions you should have caught a mile away. Clara shoved you into a green dress yanked from the back of her closet—a forgotten gift she claimed. Only to leave you alone at the bar, her golden yellow nails burrowed into Michael’s arm to drag him deep into a mass of people you tried to avoid.

Your mezcal was tepid, a rim of lipstick decorating the edge of the glass covered in your fingerprints. The music blared loud enough to leave a high pitched ringing in your left ear—a thumping bass causing the floor to tremble with each new song.

You had half a mind to leave, already a sweaty mess just standing listlessly by the bar in a meager attempt at the fun you once had. The same joy that happened right in this very club. But tonight felt different—an energy you couldn’t name that stuck to your tight chest.

“One more,” you called over the music, tapping your glass with a nail coated in chipped polish.

“I’ll get hers.”

You stiffened, his voice washing over you like a bucket of ice dumped atop your head. For a brief moment you wondered if it finally happened, if you reached the point of hearing him when he was nowhere to be found. A dreadful hope that lingered in your chest—a dream you couldn’t speak aloud for fear of driving yourself mad. Until he filled your peripheral, a familiar leather coat you would recognize a mile away and dark hair now cropped and cut short enough to alarm you.

“Mi corazon,” he murmured, leaning close enough to invade your senses with his cologne.

The bottle he left with you still sat on your dresser. Coated in five years of dust, untouched and frozen in a time you would give anything to go back to. Your teeth clamped onto the inside of your cheek hard enough to spill copper across your tongue—a disgusting mixture with the tequila you downed moments prior.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you croaked, barely able to look at him.

“I got home last week.”

“Good for you.” The words were biting, harsh enough to make him wince. Satisfaction flooded your veins.

“Clara invited me,” he admitted, stuffing his hands into his pockets—another song blasting off speakers you wished to break. “I thought…she didn’t tell you did she?”

“What do you think?”

He sighed, ducking his head to stare at his warm mezcal, a withered lime precariously placed on the rim. “I wanted to see you corazón.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped.

Music rang in your ears, a deafening echo that suffocated you beneath the weight of all you couldn’t carry. He fell silent, waiting for an indication that you wanted him there. But none ever came. The irony tasted bitter at the back of your mouth—five years later and still you walked a tightrope he promised to keep upright.

He offered you forever. You just never realized how quickly he could take it all back.

The alcohol stirred in your stomach, bile clawing up the back of your throat and suddenly Joaquín showing up out of the blue wasn’t your only problem. You couldn’t be there. You didn’t know how to stand beside him, feel the heat of his body packed in with everyone else—shame digging its talons into your skin with a malice you probably deserved. Neither of you fought for the love to last.

He didn’t fight for you.

“I came to talk to you-”

“I can’t do this,” you rasped, pushing off the bar before he could finish his half formed pathetic excuse.

“Wait.”

A hand curled into the satin fabric along your back—your quick movements pulling him into the fray. You itched to twist away, remove any trace of his touch that begged to seep into sticky skin and taint the sporadic beating of your heart.

The wall of people stopped you in your tracks, their bodies moving with fluid grace. They called to you, whispered notes of a siren song you could hear beneath the rush of blood in your ears. A thumping promise that banged against a door you sealed shut. You knew it wouldn’t fix anything—only a guarantee to make matters worse—but there was no ignoring what beckoned you forth.

Joaquín called after you, shoving his way through a drunk crowd that barely noticed he was there. You could feel him at your heels, breath fighting its way into your lungs with each punctured gasp—a ragged need for something other than this heat.

His hand curled around your hip, nose buried at the base of your neck.

“Dance with me?” he mumbled.

You allowed your eyes to slip shut, breath spilling past parted lips as the taste of tequila permeated the tip of your tongue. “I hate you,” you sighed, fingers tangling with his.

“Lo se.”

“Then why did you come back?”

The sway of his body behind yours echoed with comfort—that night burned into the back of your mind. “You.”

He spoke with sincerity. A coveted admission he buried the day he wrote those words—his fate sealed with such a tiny stamp. The years may have dragged by, his head barely above water, but the truth still remained. The mere knowledge that you existed somewhere on this Earth—a piece of him left to drag yourself out of the hell he created—broke him little by little. Until he woke up one day, struggling to breathe.

Dancing with Joaquín felt natural. Years spent bar hopping and sneaking into club back entrances weren’t something you could forget with ease.

“It’s not that easy,” you retorted, voice thick and throat constricted. “You don’t just get to…”

“Mírame corazón.”

“No.” The gasp at his touch twirling you slowly in arms you once longed to feel around your waist said otherwise.

There was no fighting something your heart ached for, a pitiful longing you felt claw at the pit of your stomach. The closeness of it, the heat pouring off his body—his hands guiding your hips into a motion the both of you understood better than words spoken in anger. You wanted to hate him. Some parts of you did.

The razor thin line of hate and love blurred as he fit you against his body. A missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for.

He possessed your soul with each step, fingers tangling into his shirt to keep yourself upright. The awkward playfulness that arose like before was nowhere to be found. This time you knew the stakes. He understood the consequences that came with making his choice and he had to live with it every day of his life. Fixing what might forever remain broken would take more than a dance, but it was somewhere to start.

“I fucking missed you,” he whispered—throat tight, constricting his words. He wanted to say more than this, more than words that rang with a hollow truth you might never believe again.

What was stopping you from walking away and leaving him in your past?

What kept you in his arms, following the swivel of hips he craved to grip through the years?

��Joaquín,” you breathed, eyes half lidded and sweat glistening in the orange glow.

“Etérea.”

You pulled away, the hint of lips curled into a grin flashing in darkness he had to squint through. The memories were falling into place. Forgotten joy, carefree moments scattered across a life spent together. He trailed after you for years, determined to love you up to his final breath; if only you understood how quick he might have fulfilled that promise. The reason he crawled his way back—pain splintering along his spine, purple hued bruises now a soft yellow along paled skin.

Tugging you back with a chuckle, he felt the anger wash off your body as you collided with him. His chest snug against your arched back. This was his home. The one place he never dared tell another soul about—too afraid it might disappear.

The gasp you let out was ragged, marred by all the grief he put you through. “I…”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you too,” you relented, head falling back to his shoulder—the mouth you dreamed about finding purchase on your neck.

This felt like a betrayal of yourself. The past five years spent battling demons you never thought could exist in your life. He tore you to pieces with just a few words. Paragraphs of messy ink forever stained in the back of your mind. You could still feel the fucking paper under your fingers—splotches of tears discoloring the pen he used.

How could you allow him to drag you back? But you were tired of pretending to be okay. Exhausted by piteous smiles and pathetic excuses to bring you back to life.

You were stumbling down a dangerous path; his teeth digging softly into salt coated skin that haunted him in dreams. The prick of his incisors scraping along your vein jolted what little sense remained into place—your heart thundering an erratic beat in your chest. He still moved with you, hands securely placed on your hips, body molded to your back until you felt his jeans dig into you.

Waiting on a soldier like me shouldn’t be your future. So I’m doing what’s necessary.

“Stop-” Abruptly he stopped, his touch falling limp at his sides. “No I can’t… We can’t.”

“Joaquín!” Clara’s voice punctured through the thick atmosphere of lust—the wanton need for him washing away with each wave of pain. “You made it.”

“Excuse me,” you muttered, dragging in breath after breath until you lungs burned with the effort. The sting was good, it kept your head above water.

Ramming through the throngs of people you staggered towards the bathrooms. Everyone was far too preoccupied with dancing to crowd the bathrooms and your luck finally came to fruition when you saw an empty hallway. Half worded apologies spilled out of your mouth, tears burning your already hot cheeks as you moved fast enough to send a searing ache down one ankle.

Joaquín’s stomach lurched, his feet already moving before his body could catch up. Michael’s arm looping around his shoulder kept him where he stood, his eyes tracking your stumbling form until the crowd swallowed you whole. Leaving him to agonizingly swallow the stone now stuck at the top of his esophagus.

You were hurt—fighting five years of pain—and he was the one to cause it.

“How was the flight man?”

He snapped to attention, slapping a fake grin on his face he hoped would be enough to sell the lie. “Flight was good. Cramped with all the people.”

“What you didn’t get first class?” Clara teased. “I thought being an Avenger came with perks.”

“Not an Avenger. Well…not yet.”

“Gettin’ too busy for us New York folk huh,” Michael pressed.

Joaquín didn’t hear a word they said, too focused on where you went, what you were doing, how he could rectify his stupid fucking mistake. “Ya cállate hombre. I’m never too busy for you guys.”

“Could have fooled us.” Clara sipped at her drink, a brown lined mauve smile glinting with a voracious sneer he’d seen before. A look reserved for those who warranted such revenge. “I saw you two dancing.”

“Yeah…we were-”

“Too bad she’s already taken isn’t it?” she sighed, the saccharine pitch of her voice slowing the music as a low pitched buzz blaring in his ears.

“W-What?”

“She’s dating someone. A guy from her office. They met a year ago I think? Bueno, we’re thinking wedding bells soon. Since it’s been so long.”

Joaquín’s heart stuttered, mind blaring with a barrage of anger he shut away—self hatred he’d grown familiar with. Time came to a stop, the thumping music falling away, and suddenly he was back in the air. Falling to his death. Your face, your laugh, your voice, whispering in the back of his head—calling him to stay alive. Beckoning him home with wide eyes and forgiveness coated on your tongue.

You couldn’t be lost to him so soon. You were supposed to wait for him.

Only those were fictitious dreams procured in a fractured mind. You didn’t have to do anything. He let you go. And there was no fixing what he destroyed—a grave he dug for himself now lingering with the scent of your perfume, the ghost of your touch haunting him.

“But…” Struggling for air, he straightened his spine—heart twisting beneath the weight of his fuck up. “Wedding bells?”

Clara nodded. “She didn’t tell you?”

The anger was seething in his chest, scorching each vein, clamping around his lungs. “No. That wasn’t mentioned.”

“Pity,” she muttered. “Michael? Another drink mi amor?”

His feet were moving before she could finish her question, hands pushing past drunk people and sweaty bodies lost to the beat of the music. Somewhere in the club you were running to escape a future he now knew could never be. He knew being calm, level headed enough to push through this haze of red, was the only option at this point. But there was no reasoning in love, no sense to be had when you were so close.

Someone cussed at him in Spanish as he managed to make it to the hallway, pushing open the bathroom door without hesitation. You stood alone by the sink. Wiping at tears that refused to stop—your eyes tinged red with how rough you were on yourself. Only when the click of the lock echoed in the small space did you finally look up, finding his reflection in the mirror—your lips twisted into a frown.

“Occupied,” you spit out, yanking another towel from the dispenser.

“Corazón-”

“I don’t want to hear it Joaquín.”

“Five minutes.”

“No. What do you think I don’t want to hear it means? I’ve had enough of the fucking mind games for one night-”

“Escuchame.” The word bit out from the back of his throat, freezing you in place. “What do you want me to say huh? I’m sorry for being an asshole? I’m sorry for fucking up the best part of my life?”

“You were an asshole,” you retorted.

“I know that.” He took three steps, pinning you to the sink, a look you wanted to recognize but couldn’t painting his features. “I know I’m gonna spend every day of my existence apologizing for the shit that I pulled. But what I didn’t know was the truth.”

“What truth are you-”

“Marriage?” he growled like the word dripped with enough sin to kill him on the spot. “You’re practically engaged and chose to dance with me like that? Like I still had a chance?”

Your jaw hung open, mind reeling as the word hit you. “Marriage?” you exclaimed. “Who the fuck…”

“Clara practically jumped for joy with the news.” The laugh dripped with contempt, fingers curling into the edge of the sink as he moved close enough to smell the tequila on your tongue. “I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid.”

“I’m not getting married.”

“Mentirosa,” he huffed.

“Joaquín you’re being insane-”

“Am I?” he snapped. “You’ve driven me insane. Since I lost you I’ve felt pieces of myself disappear.” He dropped his forehead to yours, the warm wash of his breath brushing along your lips—begging for the oxygen you stole when he let you go. “You gotta tell me corazón. Tell me who he is.”

Believing that Clara wouldn’t get involved somehow was ignorance on your part, but some selfish part of you wanted to watch him suffer. To see him break as you did years ago.

Perhaps it was bad of you, a sinister part of your mind speaking, and yet you couldn’t let go of what Clara started. Marriage to a fictitious man—enough of a reality to prove that you were better. That you could live without Joaquín taking up space in your life.

“So you can confront him? I don’t think so.”

Words that only seemed to rile an unforgiving beast buried in the depths of a gentle man. “Someone has to tell him you’re mine.”

Your breath hitched, an all too familiar siren call dragging you to the bottom of an ocean you traversed long ago. “I’m not…”

“Sí lo eres.”

Yes. You were his.

There was no use denying what you could feel in a heart that would forever be carved with his initials. Sacred with its thorns and roots, it drew you to him, captured you with the vow of all he promised before shit fell apart. You were his. You couldn’t even fathom belonging to anyone else. And he knew it the moment your eyes flicked up to meet his—those brown irises you ached for.

“Yeah…” His hand cupped your chin, thumb pulling at a pliable bottom lip willing to fall open. “You know it don’t you bebita?”

“Joaquín-”

Music thumped with a bass loud enough to rattle the walls of this small bathroom, but you could barely hear it over the sound of his heavy exhale. His lips caught yours, hand tightening at the soft breath you pushed into his open mouth—tongue sliding along teeth and taste buds still coated in mezcal. Sucking in air you dug a hand into curls you tugged years ago; still the same man you loved, yet someone entirely different.

A person you longed to know.

You lost all sense when a hand tugged at the skirt of your dress, pushing it up past your hip with a muffled groan. The kisses burned you inside, curling a fist around an already bleeding heart. He devoured you, swallowed each sound and quick pant as you looped your arms around his neck to extinguish the space between your bodies. Fingers dipped beneath the elastic waistband of panties he’d admire later, too intent on the feel of your damp patch and pooling slick.

“Fuck I missed you,” he sighed, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your throat, palm tipping your head back with a pleased hum. “So wet corazon.”

“I n-need-”

“I know.” Licking a line down your jugular you felt whatever anger still simmered beneath the surface vanish—wanton lust blinding you to the mess this would create. “I’ve been thinking about this. How you feel.”

You moaned, hips pushing into his touch. “Please. Touch me.”

“I am touching you,” he smiled, fingers sliding along your twitching clit with ease—able to rip sounds from you that had gone dormant the day he left. “That what you want? Need that pretty clit played with?”

Nodding frantically wasn’t good enough for a man who dreamed of this moment since departure. He gripped your cheeks, thumb running along a cheek decorated in soft gold glitter courtesy of Clara. A small showing of reverence for the man who toyed with your folds, dipping a finger into your slick and dragging it up slow enough to send shivers up your spine.

“I want words.”

“I-I want you to…”

“To what?” he asked far too smug in the way heat flooded your face, burning the tips of your ears and back of your neck.

Yanking at his curls, you watched in fascination when his head fell back, a groan bubbling past swollen lips. “I want you to make me cum on your fingers,” you breathed, lips pressed to a red flushed ear.

He smiled, dazed by the tight grip in which you held him. “As you wish.”

You should have seen it coming the second you released him, how his lips mashed to yours with a grunt, two fingers plunging into your dripping cunt down to his knuckles. Exactly what you asked for on his terms. You wanted to finish and Joaquín was nothing if not competent in that job. The order falling smooth from your mouth—his mind latching onto it with a desperation you’d never seen in him before.

The heel of his hand ground against your clit, trapping you on the edge of that all too familiar rush of bliss. You were right there. Chasing the edge of something mind numbing. By the hands of a man who ripped you apart, leaving you behind with nothing but blunt words and faded ink.

“That it?” Your body pitched forward, face burying into his shoulder when his fingers struck perfectly. “Yeah that’s it huh.”

“I’m gonna—fuck—g-gonna cum.”

He doubled down, practically ripping the high from you with a voracious need to see you break for him. To burn his name in the walls of your fluttering cunt that coated his palm in your slick. Even through the loud echo of music you could hear the wet squelch of his fingers pounding into you, possessing you in a way that was bound to leave you a shell of yourself.

“Soak my hand,” he breathed against the shell of your ear.

Your thighs trembled, clamping down around his wrist as it tore through you. A muffled shout pressed between teeth you sunk against his neck—marking him with the harsh lines of your canines. The music faded, everything else deafened by the ringing in your ears, the wash of bliss far too much for you to take. It wasn’t until your hand gripped his did he finally cease his movements, pulling away to give you a chance for fresh air not plagued by the scent of his cologne.

“W-Wait.”

“Take your time querida.”

“We shouldn’t…” Reality crashed onto your shores with a harsh sweep that nearly dragged you beneath darkened waves you couldn’t navigate alone.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not in the heat of passion with minds muddled by alcohol and adrenaline, not when he still refused to acknowledge that whatever occurred beforehand wasn’t for the best. You were lost, begging for him to lead you somewhere safe. To protect you against the darkness that ravaged your mind for five years. Instead he allowed jealousy to get the best of him.

You were his without question. But at what cost?

“I need some air,” you gasped, pushing him back until you could stand on shaky legs.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Everything. “I just need air.”

You needed far more than that. Something that would cure the agonizing pain coursing through your veins, the buzz of pleasure and alcohol barely making a dent. You cringed at the slick smearing along the crease of your thighs as you walked—the consistent throbbing where his fingers hooked into you drove your mind to the brink of something worse than madness. He owned you in a matter of minutes; reminded you exactly where you belonged.

“Stop fuckin’ running,” he called after you, pushing past the crowd.

Clara caught your gaze for a brief moment, concern flashing to the surface before you shook her off. Making a beeline for the only exit people practically poured out of. The air felt cold along your skin, drying the sweat along your arms and legs. And he rushed out after you, close on your heels—snapping at a chance to corner you.

To finally hash out what should have been said five years ago.

“Will you look at me?”

Sucking in a breath, you struggled to calm the overbearing rush in your ears. “Just…let me breathe please.”

“Mi vida-”

“No!” you snapped, whirling around to catch his stunned face. Everything unraveled faster than you could gather it in your shaky palms, slipping between spread fingers and raw nails that clung to peace. “You return after five years of silence and what? You expect me to forgive you? Just like that?”

The echo of your voice traveled down the street, attracting attention from whoever was closest, but you’d breached the point of complacent false smiles and sweet words void of feeling. He’d ripped you to shreds in mere sentences. Sliced through a lonely heart with something he knew would destroy what parts of your relationship held on despite the distance.

“I was willing to wait for years Joaquín,” you sobbed. “But you couldn’t even handle a few fucking months. You were too much a goddamn coward to break up with me the night you left.”

“Do you think I wanted to break up with you?” he snarled.

“Yes-”

“Me vuelves loco.” He’d been reduced to muttering under his breath, hands tugging at his hair as you wiped at the tears with sweaty palms. Love wasn’t supposed to be this. A knife neither of your held onto, plunging into wounds that never stopped bleeding. But he couldn’t stay away.

Who was he without you in his life?

“Maybe you just have to let me go-”

“Don’t you finish that fucking sentence,” he spit between clenched teeth. “You think I wanted to be without you for five years? That life was easy without hearing your voice or seeing your face? That you were alone because of the choice I made? I hate myself for destroying us! I can’t let you go because I’m desperately hopelessly in love with you. You can’t fix that corazón.”

Your breath hitched, familiar words spoken a lifetime ago here in this very spot. “It hurts Joaquín. Being near you is strangling me.”

“Then tell me what I can do. You have to tell me so I can fix it.”

“I don’t know if you can,” you whispered.

Taking the final few steps, he finally stood toe to toe with you—a calloused hand reaching for the curve of your cheek glistening with makeup and tears beneath the dim streetlight. “I’m nothing without you. I just existed for five years until I saw you again.”

His touch was warm, enticing in all the familiar ways that transformed the reasons you fell for him. Even as you shattered before him, there was still comfort to be found in his presence. He was the sunlight on a warm summer day. The reason you bloomed in the seasons of friendship and almosts and forgotten saccharine love. You couldn’t remain tied to the ground without him acting as gravity—twining himself around your broken form to keep you safe.

Even if he was the reason you bled along the cracked pavement below.

Perhaps it was a mistake, a memory you’d look back on in another five years. But he’d been your path since you found his eyes in a crowded classroom. His smile painted across cheeks that flushed red when you asked if he’d like to sit with you—if he’d take the first step in a thousand, start the story and watch it unfold before you.

“Okay,” you breathed, lost in the brown hue that still gleamed after all this time.

The apartment was stuffy after hours of relentless summer heat. A broken fan you never bothered to fix sat precariously on a stack of worn books picked up at the local thrift store. Joaquín thumbed through a familiar title he remembered snagging off your bookshelf in your old bedroom. The pages were yellowed, corners folded and re-straightened, but he could recall the story as if he was back in that old house listening to your family through the walls.

“How’d I know you pick that one,” you mused, discarding your purse onto a slightly messy kitchen table.

“Can’t help that I love it.”

You smiled. “Even though I never let you borrow it.”

“Never said I had to give it back,” he retorted, leaving it on the small wooden table by your counter, making a note to stick it in his back pocket when you weren’t looking. “The place looks…the same.”

“And that’s bad?” He snapped to attention, stomach jumping. Only to melt at the shining grin you gifted him in the yellow glow of your lamps. “Eres tan fácil.”

Laughter came easier the closer it got to midnight, the familiar warmth of your apartment echoing with memories he wouldn’t soon forget. “Mala.”

If he closed his eyes that night existed with a clarity that punched the air out of his chest. The quick pace you fell into one another—uncaring of what might come to pass. You were reckless in love, desperate to finally feel the touch held back for so long, the longing that was bound to snap. He could smell the perfume you wore, taste the drink you were nursing before Michael pushed him to dance with you. How you sounded beneath him, looked and tasted and touched after years of pure imagination.

Tonight sparked with a charged past ready to play out before your very eyes. A moment in time neither of you could ignore for much longer.

“Water?” you asked breaking the weighty silence.

He shook his head, eyes dark with a familiar need you’d seen once before. “I wanna talk. Like we used to.”

“Talk…” Sucking in a breath, you wiped at the sweat gathering along your chest. Joaquín followed the slow movement with rapt attention—his mouth dry and chest thundering with a restless heart. “What’s there to say? I already know what you’ve been up. Congrats by the way.”

The words were dry off your tongue. A silver tipped blade pressed to the base of his neck.

How could he blame you? When the reason he left you forged a direct path to who he became. The title he carried across his back as he struggled for air.

He wouldn’t be Falcon if he stayed. But he also might have been happy.

“You’re the first person I wanted to tell,” he said softly, admitting what he harbored in a cracked heart for years.

Your heart twisted, stomach fluttering in that old way it used to when you’d catch sight of him. Frustrating. Even as you relished in emotions you longed for after he left. Hope that this would turn into more—a future you could count on. Rather than a consequence you never asked for. Sleeping with him wasn’t the problem; neither was loving him. Even if he never returned you would regret making those choices, pieces of your life that set your heart on fire.

“You could have. If you stayed.”

Joaquín sighed, fingers curling into fists as he gnashed at his cheek. “I know. You never asked about me.”

“What,” you blurted out.

“Micheal knew where I was. He kept in touch. You could have asked him.”

You scoffed. “And who broke up with who again?”

“I wasn’t going to make you wait on me corazón. Being a ball and chain isn’t who I am and you know that. You had a whole life ahead of you. Things you planned to do before that night-”

“What life?” you exclaimed, voice pitched high enough to scratch an already raw throat. “I was broken for five years! Time I’ll never get back. All for what? So you could feel better about a decision you made on a whim? Without asking if that’s what I wanted.”

Ripping open yet another wound he felt his heart give out at the shine of tears on your face. Makeup smudged along the rim of your wet eyes, lips smeared with the remnants of a lipstick he knew was stained along his shirt. You were everything he wanted in life, the moonlight he basked in at the end of the day. The sirens song he crawled home to hear one last time, even as he drowned beneath a shattered love you might never reciprocate again.

He exhaled long and heavy, wiping at his eyes as he glanced around your darkened apartment. A couch he’d slept on was shoved near the window, a new T.V. mounted on the wall was turned off, and an old record player he helped you find now set on a rickety stand. Records piled on a coffee table he could remember eating off of before you found a kitchen table.

A home you built in the time he was gone. One that was always meant to be entwined with his possessions and memories.

Orange flowers sat in a familiar crystal vase his mother used to keep by the kitchen window. Always a new bouquet brought in from his father at the end of a long work week. Music flowing between the walls of a house he now stayed in as he fought to prove himself to you all over again. A past that you lingered in without knowing.

“Cempasúchil.”

You caught what he was fixed on—a small gathering of flowers from the corner you grabbed without thinking. A routine you’d grown to love even after years of his absence.

“For your pops. You said they were his favorite.”

His heart dropped. “You still bring him flowers?”

“I go every Friday with your mamá.”

Every Friday…

Five years of days spent with his family. Even after things fell apart.

He loved you.

He would love you til his last breath, the final beat of a heart that always belonged to him from the very first page. There was no denying a truth that couldn’t be buried in the depths of guilt and grief. Pain laced with memories that clung to apartment walls and city streets. You were his forever. His soul twisted around a body carved with your name.

“Siempre te amaré,” he whispered.

The gasp sounded sweet off lips he could still taste. “Joaquín-”

“I do,” he confessed. “There hasn’t been a day I haven’t loved you mi corazón.”

“You can’t just say that.”

“Why?” he demanded.

Slowly you lowered yourself into a chair that was once stuffed into the corner of his living room. “Because we still have to talk about what this is. What we’re gonna do to figure it out while you’re home.”

“What this is? I know what it is. I’ve known since you asked me to sit next to you. I’m yours. I’ve been yours all along.” He dropped to his knees quicker than either of you expected, his hands grasping the warmth of your thighs through sweat stained satin. “I got hurt mi vida.”

Your body stilled, hands cupping his cheeks as fear threaded between each rib and nerve. “What?”

“I…I was stupid and made a mistake and they had to stitch me back together. But I couldn’t care about any of it. Not the fucking pain, or surgery, or having to recover for months, because when I was falling out of the sky…all I could think about was you.”

How quickly you could have lost him and you never knew. You weren’t there when he was struggling to live. You weren’t there when he woke up. You…weren’t there.

“I-I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I didn’t know. I would have come to you-”

“No, no está bien. Yo estoy bien.”

“You almost died and you’re saying it’s okay?”

He smiled, forehead pressing to your stomach—fingers digging into what flesh he could hold as you clung to him. Some part of you sunk your teeth into the fear of losing him, dragging it close to swallow down that feeling. Every emotion, all the pain it kept you alive. It let you know he was there with you and for the first time in five years you held the choice of forever in your hands once more.

There he was offering you everything he was. All he could be, all you knew he was.

The man you were always destined to fall into.

“It is okay,” he murmured. “Because I’m here with you. And I didn’t think I’d get that again. I’m home.”

This is where belonged. The space that called him forward and you watched his eyes raise to find yours. Love shining in irises that haunted his waking life. Everywhere he went Joaquín saw you. In the midnight sky, in the summer days spent on a stuffy base somewhere, in the people he met and allies he formed. You existed in all that encompassed him—a soul he’d struggle to find and vow to keep.

“Rip me apart mi vida. Destroy me as many times as you want. I’ll do anything you want if it means stayin’ with you.”

“Mi amor,” you said beneath a soft breath and his heart mended itself with a shaky ragged gasp.

He rose to meet your lips as your fingers scrambled to find purchase in his jacket, tugging him close enough to nearly tip the chair back. If it fell he’d be there to catch you. Perhaps that’s what had your legs sliding up around his hips, a soft moan pressed to a tongue that slid along yours. The taste of you drove him off the brink of what kept him sane—all the attempted to stow inside an aching heart.

Licking into your mouth with a broken whimper, he dragged you to the edge of the chair, hands kneading at the top of your ass. You yelped into it with a smile, diving into the kiss with a fervor that had him leaking into his jeans. The heat from earlier pooled along his spine again and Joaquín knew he’d barely survive sinking into you; he could feel his cock twitch with every stroke of your tongue.

“Bedroom,” he gruffly got out, yanking you up onto wobbly legs. “‘M not fucking you in the kitchen. Not tonight.”

You grinned, tugging him down an all too familiar path. “There’s going to be more than one night?”

“If I have any say about it.”

“Eres bien creído.”

Hands ripped at your dress, pulling it up and off your body before he could even reach the bed slightly messy with rumpled covers. A staple he could always remember. It made him smile against your lips as you tugged at his clothes—those same warm hands sliding along bare skin. The jacket was left by the door, shirt tossed to the depths of your room and Joaquín placed you on the mattress before reaching for his belt.

Chills rippled along your back at the sound, heart hammering in your chest. He looked the same. Yet something older was housed in his stance, someone who was sure of himself in the way he pushed away the last of his clothes. A grin bloomed across swollen lips.

You admired him as much as you could. Dragging your eyes down to the red tip of his leaking cock and breathlessly finding his eyes in the dark of your bedroom. Last time neither of you got this chance. A moment of stillness before you collided. Silence thick with an electrifying tension you felt down to your toes.

Lifting a bare leg, you placed your foot on his stomach, dragging it down until his hand wrapped around an ankle—tugging you close with a harsh breath.

“Being a tease huh?” he mumbled, lips finding a home at the top of your thigh.

“Not my fault you’re easy to mess with.”

“Since when?”

You smiled, fingers curling around his mussed hair. “Since always.”

Words slipped to the back of a clouded mind when his hands tugged at the lace of your panties, sliding them off and marveling at the wet spot left behind. He could practically taste you on his tongue. The addicting tang of what he’d been craving since he left you at that airport. With a shuddered breath he slid a thumb along your folds, circling your clit hard as you writhed under his needy touch.

“W-Want you inside me,” you forced out, hips rolling into his hand.

Somehow through the haze of lust he made himself follow through with your plea. Hand positioning himself along the dripping hole he’d drink from later—his tongue swiping along his bottom lip. You were mewling for him, fingers twisting into the sheets and legs dropping open wide enough to accommodate his hips.

He slid along your cunt, grinning with unhinged glee at the loud moan ripped from your throat. You were unable to beg. Mouth barely forming coherent words as he toyed with your pulsing clit. Precum stained the pretty clean skin of your inner thigh, smearing a mess into the hair he was desperate to bury his nose in.

“Say it for me yeah?” he muttered, voice deep with gravel.

A gasping moan hit his ears, your chest heaving. “Please. Fuck me. Come in me. Just p-please do something-”

“Sh, sh. I know mi corazón. You’re empty without my cock huh?”

You nodded, yanking him close enough to feel his chest against yours. “Need it baby. Need you to stuff me full.”

“Mierda-” The near painful twitch of his cock had him burying his face into your neck, teeth scraping against the delicate chain of your necklace. Until he caught sight of silver tucked between your breasts, hidden by the black lace of your bra—a piece of himself he thought he’d never see again.

Only when he was ripping at your final item of clothing did you drag yourself through the thick fog. “W-What’s wrong-”

“You kept them,” he breathed, lips mashing to yours and hand roughly kneading your breast with a grunt. “Wore them the whole fuckin’ time tonight and I didn’t know.”

You wanted to explain that they were all you had left of him, a comfort after all this time. But his mouth closing around your nipple shut down everything but the sparks rushing along veins you didn’t know could exist. He sucked at your skin, teeth indenting into the softness of your breast. That desperate hunger shoving to the forefront—something you could feel wrap around the length of your spine.

He rutted into you, cock brushing where you needed him most, but you couldn’t let go of those words. There was no world where you wouldn’t love him.

No plane of existence you’d be where he wasn’t.

“They’re yours,” you gasped, grinding against him—head tipped back as his teeth scraped your throat. “I’ve always worn them. Since you—fuck baby—sent them to me.”

Whatever he could have said vanished, his mind going white at the thought of you wearing his dog tags from the very beginning. Five years of holding him over your heart. Time he believed to be filled with a cold resentment suddenly colored itself with a flushed pink haze—a dreamlike state he drowned in with a smile painted across his face. You loved him. Even through all this…it would always be him.

He sunk into you in one thrust and you cried out, clinging onto his shoulders at the sudden stretch, his hips meeting yours and head falling to your chest. A muffled fuck pressed between the curve of your breasts—tongue licking the bead of sweat along skin that glistened in the yellow haze of your bedroom. Breath twisted in your lungs, trapping what oxygen remained as he snapped his hips down into you again. Dragging out with slow cruel thrusts.

“So fuckin’ good,” he gasped, hand tangling with yours and pressing it into the plush comforter. “Gonna make me lose my damn mind.”

“Baby.” The word was a desperate whine on your lips, thighs wrapped tight around his hips—chest heaving for resuscitation from the plane of bliss he threw you into.

Without a map you feared you’d be lost to its depths. But his teeth digging into your lip kept you close, satiated the tremble going down your limbs.

There was no mercy in how he fucked you. No time for soft reverence and tender quiet moments. That would find its way to you later—when the moon began its descent along the horizon, time reaching far enough to still what small pleasures you could steal. He’d bring you back to life with a tongue buried in slick folds and fingers pumping deep.

Tonight he ravaged, took his fill of what you both craved as the night went on. Two souls verging together at last. Finally found after years of distance—entire galaxies spanning the years he spent away from your touch.

“Listen,” he breathed hotly into your mouth, lips quirking as the sound graced ears unable to discern his voice from the thundering of your own heart.

But he slowed his movements, plunging into you with a biting grunt you felt burn into your lungs. The loud wet squelch of your cunt bouncing off the walls of an apartment privy to this once before. Sinful in its agonizing beauty. He smiled, grinding his hips hard enough to drag a throaty moan from your chest—his lips there to swallow what you offered with glee. Heat burned beneath your cheeks, the tinge of shame digging between ribs and arteries.

Until he dropped to his elbow, your name encased in a high breath—his brows pulled together and teeth indenting the plush bottom lip you longed to suck on.

“S-Shit baby I’m not—fuck-” The word dragged between a clenched jaw as he rapidly pounded into you, the bed creaking from the force you felt with each stroke.

His cock struck against your walls, a creamy slick pouring out to drip down your ass, coating his balls as they slapped against skin he’d dig his teeth into later. A mess. He’d reduced the both of you to a fucking mess, unable to pick through a hazy mind. Each moan you let out grew higher, thighs shaking from the effort, and he ripped away from your touch before you could drag him close. Looping each limb over arms prominent with veins and familiar tattoos.

Mistakes made back in the youth of being nineteen. Time he spent wrapped in any part of you he could get. Even as something more simmered beneath a friendship always destined to change.

“Joaquín-” you sobbed, clutching at any part of him you could reach, his chest and shoulders red with marks from your nails. “I-I’m not engaged.”

He stilled, eyes wide and mouth parted as he panted for air. “You said-”

“I-I could never marry someone t-that wasn’t you.”

A strand finally snapped, edge reached long before you could ask him what created it in the first place. Brown suddenly bled into black and he now fucked you with everything in him. Lips sealed over yours, hand clenching tight around your hips—his coarse hair dragging along a throbbing clit that begged for more. Your walls fluttered around him, a shattered cry lost to his kiss, but nothing had felt so perfect.

“‘M gonna fuckin’ marry you,” he grunted, forehead resting against yours, bending you up and into his body—cock ramming right up into a spot that left you going blind with pleasure. “Make you mine.”

Everything you longed for—five years of love and grief—crashed at the shore of your body. Ripping the final pieces of your heart from the decay it lived with. You came with his name on your lips, back arching up into him hard enough to draw a flicker of pain down your spine—your eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the fabric beneath you.

He collapsed over you with a choked shout, face buried into your neck as he coated your walls with that soft pool of warmth. A feeling you had forgotten about—bliss wrapped in the taut muscles of his arms, his body a heavy weight on yours. You were lost to it, drowning in his scent and taste, but his lips finding yours tied you back down to Earth. His hands sliding along your skin, tongue licking the pain off the back of your teeth.

Joaquín pieced you back together with a love that altered you entirely, shifted all that you were beneath the tidal waves of his heart. Peace settled in the base of a hammering heart—hope finding a home in the bottom of a fluttering stomach.

You loved him.

Eternally.

And that would forever be enough.

Sunlight danced along the bare skin of your back, face pressed into his chest—ear above a steady beating heart. It lulled you to sleep after hours of rekindling a flame that never went out. His hands a burn along your body, lips reacquainting with the dips and curves of your thighs. He sought you out in the early hours of dawn with a stiff cock and groggy pleas for your sweet essence.

Who were you to deny him?

He smiled pressing a kiss to your temple, fingers toying with your ring finger. If he narrowed his eyes in the afternoon light he could see a flash of yellow gold along skin he savored—a hand he clutched with promise. It wouldn’t be too big; nor small enough to hide from inquiring eyes. A perfect set of jewels adorned on a finger he kissed, the piece of you yet to hold his permanent promise.

Till death.

Till he found you in the next life.

Slipping from the tangle of your limbs, he relished the leap of his heart at the sight of you spread along the bed. Naked and at bliss, exhausted from his hunger. He stole another kiss along your spine, finding his way through the familiar path of the kitchen that still lingered with the laughter of memories that painted the walls. Times spent with friends—now turned family—moments he might one day have again.

A faded picture of two young kids at high school graduation was pinned to the fridge door, another of a night spent dancing at some shitty frat party—high off the freedom of adulthood. Two versions of a love he’d could pick out with his eyes shut tight.

Another would set nicely beside them. Of a wedding in a small backyard, an aisle scattered with orange petals and white daisies adorned to his tux—a veil dragging along the floor where you walked towards him. An image that would be placed on altars in memory, an offering set between the frame and candle as he clutched you tight even in the afterlife.

The coffee machine beeped, two mugs set on the counter as he poured, and that’s where you found him. Fussing with the bottle of cream and sugar packets damp from hot liquid. He wore his jeans low on hips you bit at some point in the night—the indent of your teeth marked into skin that would forever wear your mark. Even if you had to place it night after night.

Your arms looped around his waist, lips finding the warm skin of his back. “I wanted to wake up with you.”

He laughed, turning gently in your hold. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You can still surprise me.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, eyes gleaming with a light that caught your breath in the base of your throat. “Got something in mind?”

Life suddenly held a different glow. Contentment filling veins with a something new. A piece that didn’t exist without him near—his love pressing deep and bright into a chest that burned hot. He left you breathless, begging for reprieve. Yet losing yourself to it all the same.

“So…about everything-” He cut you off with a kiss, hand dragging your left palm to his mouth. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

He smiled, at ease with the nerves he could feel beneath your wrist. “If I did?”

“I’d like that,” you breathed.

“Siempre estaras conmigo mi corazón?”

You nodded, heart singing beneath his love. “Si mi amor. I’ll be with you forever.”

©moonlight-prose do not feed my work into ai, do not steal my work, if you are a minor, spam like my fics, or are a blank blog you will be blocked.

[tyrantisterror]

A Flight of Dragons, I Command It! A FLIGHT! OF! DRAGONS!

doom DOOM DOOM

Hey fuckers, it's February and my Seasonal Affective Disorder is at its fucking PEAK, so it's gonna get REAL weird around here for a while. Luckily, my old ass has spent the last thirty-some years figuring out how to deal with this particular recurring problem, and one of the many tools and tricks I've learned is an age old classic:

I gotta treat myself.

So, ok, I work at a daycare, and one of the things that's very popular with the kids these days are 3-D printed dragons. They're inexpensive, customizable, and pretty easy to transport and store, so it's no wonder kids like them. But, you know, I'm something of a child at heart myself, and I love dragons, so when I saw my kids bringing all these 3-D printed dragons to the center... well, I got a bit envious. And, well... when you're an adult with disposable income... there's no one STOPPING you from buying a 3-D printed dragon for yourself.

Or two.

Or three.

Or... lots. Lots and lots. Because you're an adult and they don't cost much money and you've always loved having swarms/herds/big families of creatures ever since you were a kid, and because it was January when this idea struck you and looking at the estimated time of arrival on etsy for these things you realized most of them would arrive by February, when you might NEED the serotonin provided by having a big ol' flight of dragons.

So let's go on a journey, fuckers. A journey of excess, a journey into imagination, a journey through the marvelous world of people with 3-D printers making a quick buck on etsy. Let's look at some fucking dragons.

I'm going to go ahead and link the store pages for each dragon I purchased, in case you too are deranged and need some dragons in your life, and because I want to give some form of credit to the artists who made these. Granted, that won't always be possible - while a few of these seemed to be unique to the shops I bought them from, many of them could be found from NUMEROUS sellers, which makes it difficult if not impossible to figure out who originally programmed the project files for them to be 3-D printed from.

Case in point is The Crystal Dragon here, which can be found in SO MANY etsy stores. Most of the 3-D printed dragons my students at the daycare had were of this variety, in fact, so it seems to be a very popular pattern for 3-D printing. It's definitely a cute and pretty little thing, and sort of sets the standard bar for a 3-D printed dragon. I wish the face was a bit more detailed, but the rough, angular nature of it does help convey the idea that this thing is made of crystals.

The second most common design, as far as I can tell anyway, is this Chinese Dragon/Loong (oh hey, they used my favorite English spelling!). I really like the face of this guy, and it seems like an excellent rendition of the standard East Asian dragon design - there's even tiny holes under its nostrils where you could insert a wire or thread to serve as its barbells, though most sellers (including the one I bought from) don't make use of it.

While most of the dragons I bought are "realistic," there were some cartoony/more stylized ones for sale that I decided to partake in. This little guy is one such dragon, and I think he's probably the best one to get if you're buying for a kid - the smoother body and smaller, nubbier horns makes it less likely to break, and just a bit more fun to play with in your hands. These things are often marketed as fidgets, after all, so the tactile feel of them is something to take into account.

While on the surface just a variation of the fidgets we've seen so far, this dragon has one particularly clever feat of engineering: because of the way the spikes on its neck are set up, you can get its head in a nice "snake rearing up to strike" position, which, combined with its distinctive short-snouted face, goes a long way to giving it an extra bit of character among the 3-D printed dragons.

While most of the dragons I found seemed to have the same simple color options to choose from, a few sellers seemed to have their own custom ones that were unique to their shop. This mix of bronze and olive greens was unique to this particular dragon, which, along with its painted eyes, really helps its stand out! I will note that the joints of this dragon tend to stick a bit more than my other dragons - perhaps a result of using different plastic colors than is standard? - but if you let gravity do its work they'll sort themselves out, and it's worth it to have such a striking little fellow.

Since this particular style of toy really suits serpentine creatures better than all else, I decided to look for some explicitly marine dragons to add to the group. I really like this sea serpent I found, which comes is very basic crayola-ish plain colors, but has just enough personality in its sculpt (and eyes and teeth in different colors) to stand out.

If you're looking for sea dragons on etsy, though, you're much more likely to encounter this fellow, which almost every store selling it calls Jormungandr and/or the Midgard Serpent. It's got these vaguely Nordic runes carved into it, as well as grooves in its tail designed to fit its prominent fangs so it can make an ouroboros, which makes the Jormungandr connection feel pretty intentional. It's a really distinct design, but I do think it's a little funny that it's far from the beefiest of my dragons. I wonder if there's a shop that sells an upsized model...

While not notable in terms of engineering, paint work, or plastic color options, this dragon IS notable in having heads based on a statue of Quetzalcoatl, who is in turn one of my favorite mythological figures, so I had to get it.

Of course, I also wanted a Quetzalcoatl-style feathered serpent that had the classic "winged snake" look, and this one fit the bill well enough. It originally came with little hair clips attached to its underside, allowing it to cling to your head and/or clothes, which I thought was really clever... but I also didn't like the clips sticking out from under the little thing so I took them off. A lovely little dragon either way, though.

So, ok, I'd been going relatively cheap at this point, but as I shopped I was struck with a sort of passing fancy, an idle thought... what was the most elaborate, fanciest 3-D printed dragon I could get? It's not this one, mind you, but this was very much the start of that rabbit hole. While mechanically it's not significantly different than the dragons we've seen till now, the amount of colors it's printed in immediately make it stand out as a higher quality dragon.

The same store that sold the dragon above also sold this fellow, which may well be my favorite of the many East Asian dragons I found on this little quest. Just look at that wonderfully monstrous face! And he's got a pearl, the little devil!

While the color of the plastic and the engineering of this sea dragon may not seem particularly notable, what has to be taken into account here is the sheer SIZE of this lass. This is one of the biggest dragons of my lot, not only in length but in sheer girth and weight of its joints. The Midgar Serpent needs to move over, this is the REAL leviathan of my 3-D printed dragon collection.

Of course, if you know me, you know I'm a basic bitch who loves the European "four legs and two wings" style of dragon the most of all, so my search for fancy 3-D printed dragons started to focus on finding some that fit this description. I can't actually find the store page for this guy anymore (it's not in my past purchases on etsy for some reason), but it's a pretty solid low budget take on the concept. But we can do better - and we will...

But first, a detour to some wyverns! This little guy is really cute, with a head based on the Peter Jackson Herbit movie's design for Smaug, and a feathery little body that makes it looks like a fantastical archeopteryx.

The same shop makes a more reptile-ish dragon, with leathery wings and scaly skin, which I got in a larger size because, well, you know my preferences. It's like the perfect size to perch on your shoulder, though I'd want something to hold it in place because I'm pretty sure falling off from that height onto a hardwood floor would be the end of it.

There's no shop link for this one or the next because it was a freebie - which is to say I didn't actually order this dragon, but found it in one of my packages as a free gift from the seller. That's the nice thing about shopping on places like etsy and ebay - sometimes the people on the other side of the screen are really solid and decide to give you an extra little treat. This is clearly a Games of Throne-style wyvern specifically, based on the proportions and the shape of the head, and that's pretty cool. The dragons are one of the only things that made it out of that show still looking cool.

The second freebie dragons I got were these little toys of Toothless and Girl Toothless from How to Train Your Dragon. Look at them, they're so cute!

But now... now it's time for the answer to the question:

What

Is the most Deluxe 3-D Printed Dragon

I can get?

The Bronze Medal goes to this marvelous dragon here, which feels like it flew right off of some medieval coat of arms and into my own flesh and blood ones. It's solid, beautifully sculpted, and full of articulation points. However, the method in which it's articulated makes it a bit frustrating to pose, as some of these joints end up bending and twisting in ways you don't want them too. Still an excellent dragon, mind you, but outdone by the next two...

The Silver Medal goes to this marvelous wyvern, which has much tighter joints that are a lot less frustrating to pose. Its wings are a mixture of cloth and plastic, allowing them to flex and bend into a variety of poses (though admittedly the weight of the wings keeps them from holding most of those poses very well). Also, look at that regal face, that sleek sculpt, and those elegant proportions! It's almost a perfect dragon for me. Almost.

My one and only gripe with the previous dragon is that, well, I'm a basic bitch who likes dragons with four legs and two wings the best! And what do you know, they made one of those too! And god, does this dragon look magnificent in person, sporting all of the elegance of the dragon above but with magnificent grasping hands! HANDS! Hands that you'll have to be careful with because the joints are a little loose and like to pop off when you play with them, but still, HANDS!

This is a high enough point to end off on, but there's one more 3-D printed gift I'd like to cover here. My favorite one.

Well, ones I guess. This all started with my students, and well, some of them noted my interest in the 3-D printed dragons they were bringing to school. And a couple of them actually ended up getting 3-D printers of their own (well, their parents' own, ayway) and decided to print off a dragon and a crocodile for me - smaller than all the other dragons here (except the Toothless keycains), but no less dear for it. I guess one of the pros about taking an active interest in the things your students like and letting them gush about it is that they might give you a 3-D printed dragon or crocodile out of the kindness in their little hearts.

[mirai-e-jump]

Uchusen Vol.189 (Summer 2025) Ultraman Omega ft. Kondo Shori & Yoshida Haruto Interviews (other pages and translations below)

Publication: July 1, 2025 (before broadcast start)

Kondo Shori (Okida Sorato)

"We understand that it was a casting rather than an audition."

Kondo: I was in the middle of taking a break from filming a drama at the end of 2023. My manager said to me, "There's an audition for Ultraman coming up in abit." For the time being, I thought it'd be done in the format of an audition. The first thing I was told was, "You're just going to go and show off your face, so please do some research on Ultraman over the New Year's holiday." Instead of being happy, I had the feeling of, "Ah, really?" I was 29 at the time, and I was shocked as I thought, "How is it possible for a 29 year old to play the leading role in Ultraman?" So, I went to the audition in January of 2024 and was officially chosen during that month. I felt relieved and happy, but I also thought, "I'm going to be a hero……," and my mind went blank for awhile. I was very happy, but on the other hand, it was also a huge shock, so instead of doing a fist pump to celebrate, I felt dumbfounded.

"Do you have any memories or emotional attachment to the Ultraman series?"

Kondo: I was an only child raised by a single parent, so I often played alone at home when I was little. The toys given to me by my parent were sofubis of Ultraman and Kaiju. I'd play with them by making them fight. I personally consider myself as being part of the "Ultraman Tiga" and "Ultraman Dyna" generation, but there were multiple sofubis in the single box sets, and that included Ultraman that I didn't know of. I remember seeing a black Ultraman among them and thinking, "So cool!"

"Considering the era, it might've been the Ultraman Shadow included in the Immortal Ultra Warriors Set 3."

Kondo: I'm not quite sure about his name, but I really loved him.

"What was the response like after information was officially released?"

Kondo: As expected, there was alot. I received an incredible amount of messages from longtime fans, people who only just found out about me, and even foreigners just on SNS alone. Since alot of the content I've worked on has been aimed at foreign audiences, it wasn't unusual for me to receive messages from overseas, but now I'm receiving messages from different demographics. I've always thought about how I'd like to "work worldwide," so this has made me happy.

"What was your thought process for taking on the role of Sorato?"

Kondo: Since he's an alien who's lost his memory, I thought that I shouldn't deliver my lines with a fluent rhythm during the very beginning of the show, just as I'm doing now. When he's asked something, I'll ask it again in my head and then say the words. That's why his response ends up being a beat behind. I try to act as if I can't immediately understand what the other person is saying. And, I don't display alot of facial expressions. He'll gradually become better off in the future, but in the beginning, he'll stare blankly, and it's hard to tell what he's thinking. In any case, I put importance on that feeling of "being out of place." I'm prepared for people who didn't know about the alien setting to think, "This guy can't act, huh?," and that's okay.

"Comparing yourself to Sorato, are there any aspects that you can relate with?"

Kondo: Sorato is curious about all kinds of things. Especially in the first episode, since he has no idea about anything, he tries to touch a variety of objects and is stopped by Kosei. He's full of curiosity. I feel like that might be similar to myself. What's more, we both like to eat. I think that kind of innocent feeling just oozes out of me. I think it's because of me that Sorato's become the way he is. I feel that Sorato is a role that would never come out the same no matter who's playing him, as it's a role that can be interpreted very differently depending on how the person performing perceives him.

"What are your impressions of Kosei's Yoshida Haruto-san and Ayumu's Kudo Ayano-san?"

Kondo: Kosei's a hard worker. I get the feeling that he's always on his guard. I also have the impression that he's having a harder time than me. My energy levels are low, or rather, I'm more relaxed. It's also due to my role, since my character doesn't require needing to be full of energy (laughs). Still, that guy's role is one where he gets pushed around in a variety of ways, and always seems to be yelling. He's doing his best playing a role like this. I think he might've been "shifting gears" within himself. Objectively, that's how I see it. Ayumu is the most sane role. She's a woman with common sense and who works hard at the things she does. I'm sure Kudo-san was naturally worried in the beginning too. However, she's a very down to earth person. At first, Kosei and I were creating the set together until Ayumu arrived starting from episode 2, but her arrival didn't feel out of place at all. We all became friends quickly without having to be mindful, and I think that's a testament to her humanity. The vibes on set are also good. Things are harmonious, which I think is suitable for a set creating tokusatsu productions. Our jobs are to give children dreams, so I don't want us being awkward with each other. There was a feeling within me that didn't want filming to be difficult, so I wanted to shape us into a fun group. I believe that if we keep that in mind, we can naturally make the show an enjoyable one.

"Have you had an opportunity to talk with Iwata Hideyoshi-san, who plays the role of Omega after your transformation?"

Kondo: I've talked alot with Hideyoshi-san. I think for Hideyoshi-san, Omega is the production in which he's communicated with an actor the most as of recent. The schedule is set up in a way where they start filming the tokusatsu parts after the main drama scenes are finished, so Hideyoshi-san creates Omega's performance after watching my entire performance as Sorato. He's playing my role very respectfully. Especially this time, since the one transforming is Ultraman himself, Hideyoshi-san told me he wanted to communicate with me and has given me the opportunity to do so. I also visited the tokusatsu set quite abit in order to talk with him.

"The transformation scene is one of the highlights of each episode, but is it difficult for you?"

Kondo: I don't find the transformation pose difficult at all. The Slugger flies, circles me, and then I grab it, so it's all a matter of imagination. I used to perform in stage plays, so I've had many opportunities to act by looking at things I couldn't see, which is why I don't feel any discomfort or difficulty doing this. The only thing that was difficult was the scene where I transformed while running, which will show up inevitability. I had to run, stop at a specific spot, and strike my pose with precision. It was also decided beforehand that the camera would be set at a certain angle, so even if I was just alittle bit off, it would be no good. This was difficult. Our goal was a close up, which is why being even a few centimeters off would've caused me to be out of frame. Even after they said, "Alright, please stop at this spot," stopping there was still difficult because there were no clear marks. To memorize it I would imagine, "If I can stop so that this edge is aligned with this line on the camera, I might be able to get it," and repeatedly did countless takes while running to it. That was difficult.

"What's been some of the most memorable words from Director Takesue Masayoshi's direction?"

Kondo: Director Takesue is allowing me to work rather freely. He gives me detailed directions, but in general, what I want to do and what the Director wants to do match up, so there's been no major disagreements between us. Still, when it comes to the "fluffy" Sorato that I'm playing, he doesn't have the same amount of excitement one would normally feel when transforming, but he clearly told me, "This is Ultraman, so I need you to switch it up" and "I want you to instantly enter hero mode." He was also like, "I want a cool Sorato!" This was especially the case for the first episode.

"You also provide the post transformation action voices yourself, right?"

Kondo: I'm doing it. At the postrecording studio, I record while looking at a monitor with Ultraman on it, but when Ultraman moves within the monitor, I also do the same movements in front of the microphone while speaking out loud. After watching the entire thing through once and memorizing the number of punches and kicks, I'll say, "Okay, let's start recording," and I'll record each episode while punching and kicking alongside Ultraman.

"What impressed you most when you saw the finished footage?"

Kondo: That would naturally be the transformation! In the first episode, I was really moved by the scene where I transform into Ultraman, but I was especially moved by the scene in the grassy field, where the particles of light gather as the giant Ultraman transforms back into me. Transforming has been a dream of mine since I was little, so to see it become a reality really touched me.

"Please give a message to our readers while they wait for the broadcast to start."

Kondo: I think this is a new Ultraman that's never been seen before. Its appearance is innovative. The main character is an alien who doesn't really know Earth's language. I'm sure it's difficult for many of you to imagine what the story will be about. The show may initially feel awkward, or maybe it's the main character that's awkward, but I believe that gradually, the show and characters will become loved. While depicting Ultraman in a way that's never been done before, it'll ultimately turn into a show that makes you think, "As expected, Ultraman is cool." That's why I want people to continue to love the Ultraman series, and for that reason, I think we have to work hard on Ultraman Omega. And, it's because of the power of you readers and the people who love Ultraman that also makes Ultraman work hard. We'll be able to take on the task of protecting Earth, so I'd be happy if you gave us tons of support. _

Yoshida Haruto (Hoshimi Kosei)

"Please tell us how the role was decided on."

Yoshida: It was an audition. After the audition, I was told by my agency that I was still a candidate, but I had been frustrated in the past because I was always one step short after it was narrowed down between the last two or three candidates, so I was constantly worrying. When the decision was made, the president of my current agency called me to come to the office with, "There's some materials for a different production," and as I was reading this script at the office, the last page had "you've been cast to play Hoshimi Kosei" written on it. I was like, "……Eh?," and to be honest, it didn't really sink in right away, but gradually, I felt a rush of happiness. I started bawling my eyes out since it felt like all of the hard work I'd put in up to that point had finally paid off. At the same time, I felt pressured since I was "going to be carrying the banner of Ultraman's historic series," so I was on edge.

"What was the response like after your role was announced?"

Yoshida: Ever since the official release of information, I've received so many voices of support. I was able to once again feel the passion that Ultraman's content has, as well as the kindness of the fans. Among the people who've come to know me through this, there are alot who've even come to stage greetings for other productions I've appeared in. They were like, "We're here since we were curious." I'm grateful for that.

"Do you have any memories or emotional attachment to the Ultraman series?"

Yoshida: "Ultraman Zero," "Ultraman Ginga," and "Ultraman X" just to name a few, and they were apart of my life during my school days. I feel very honored to have my name added to a page in Ultraman's history and to be involved in this production. What's more, I never dreamed that I'd be controlling Kaiju to fight alongside Ultraman just like in Ginga and X, so I'm incredibly happy.

"When you were a child actor, didn't you appear in Ultra Zone's Kaiju Transfer Student episodes?"

Yoshida: Yes. I was among those students. We were in a classroom with the Kaiju and took lessons together, so it made me think, "What is this?" (laughs), but even though it had a different "taste" from the Ultraman I was used to seeing, the film shoot itself was alot of fun. The role of the teacher was also pretty outrageous, so it left a strong impression on me.

"How did you plan on playing the role of Kosei?"

Yoshida: Hoshimi Kosei is a character who's interested in a variety of things, and makes an effort to work on them, but none of them ever lasts long. He's exploring what he wants to do, so I think he's the kind of person you could find anywhere. Then one day, this young man meets and becomes buddies with an alien named Sorato, and they fight the Kaiju that appeared at the same time. I think that the way he grows through the memories and interactions he has with his friends who fight alongside him, his own sense of justice, and the emotional conflicts he faces are the things that viewers can most easily sympathize and empathize with. I think that Kosei's character is closest to the viewer's point of view, so I tried to create a role that would allow them to immerse themselves in the world of Ultraman Omega through Kosei as a medium.

"Comparing yourself to Kosei, are there any aspects that you can relate with?"

Yoshida: I'm also somewhat of a coward, so maybe we are closer than I thought. I'm also abit unreliable (laughs). Kosei's way of thinking and environment change drastically after he encounters Sorato. Thanks to the people he gets involved with, he'll find out what he really wants to do. I feel like that's something that overlaps with myself. My environment has changed ever since I joined my current agency, and the number of people I've gotten involved with through work has grown, which has given me so many opportunities to reflect on myself and my approach to my work as an actor. And then, I myself used to do track and field as part of club activities, so we also have that in common. There's also a scene within the show where Kosei's running track, but since I hadn't done it for such a long time, I was worried about performing as is, so I got one on one lessons from a former track and field athlete.

"Kosei is depicted multiple times making food for Sorato, but how about you Yoshida-san?"

Yoshida: To begin with, over the course of the various roles I've performed, I often find that the hobbies of those characters turn into my own hobbies. When I played the role of a cook in another production, I got abit too into it, and started cooking for myself in my private time. Kosei also has many scenes where he cooks, such as when he served the yakisoba that Sorato took and when he made curry, so I myself also practiced. I've been able to make use of past experiences, so I thought I'd pursue the depth of yakisoba even further through this production (laughs).

Kosei will also participate in battle as the operator of the MeteoKaiju, right?

Yoshida: When I first saw Rekiness, I thought it was "surprisingly cool." Despite its ominous appearance, it's very friendly. Trigaron has abit of a violent temper, and it tosses its enemies around using its agile movements. Each Kaiju has a different personality, so I also act differently for each of them, like when I give them different instructions, or in the exhaustion that comes with controlling them. The heated battle scenes where the MeteoKaiju and Ultraman Omega fight together is a major point to look out for. When I'm actually holding the MeteoKaiju, I feel more aware that I'm protecting the peace on Earth together with Ultraman. It actually makes me feel like I'm now in the world of Ultraman that I used to watch on TV when I was little. That's what those items mean to me.

"What are your impressions of Sorato's Kondo Shori-san and Ayumu's Kudo Ayano-san?"

Yoshida: As the leader of this production, Shori-kun is a "Kansai guy" who pulls us along while keeping the set organized. He's got a unique sense of humor and is a very cheerful person, so he's like a big brother who I can talk with about various things. We also share a hobby of playing card games, and we'll play against each other during breaks on set or during our private time, and we also go to card shops together. That was the spark that immediately brought us closer together. Ayano-chan is a goddess. On days when she's not on set, she's such a healing presence that some staff members will shout out, "Ayano-chan isn't here today?!" Ayano-chan's actual character is cute, and she's very level headed and easy to talk to. I'm also the same, and we'll talk about subjects such as our private lives and views on love. The three of us also go out for meals together when we're off set. Because of this relationship, we're able to have discussions on set like, "I want this part to be done more like this" or, "Let's do this like that," and I think these kinds of vibes are reflected in the footage.

"What's been some memorable moments from Director Takesue Masayoshi's direction?"

Yoshida: Director Takesue is an expert who's been working on this series for a long time, so his vision for Ultraman Omega was also very clear. To be honest, there were some directions to "change the nuance" or "increase the tension" in regards to our performance, but I think he respected what we brought to the test shoot before the real take. If I had to say, I got the impression that he spent alot of time carefully filming the transformation scenes and my reactions during the Kaiju battles, and that he really demands that the scenes are easy to understand and cool looking enough for the children watching.

"What's been the most difficult part about filming?"

Yoshida: The Summer heat. To begin with, filming took place during the Summer, and last year was especially hot, with record breaking heat, and not only were we outside alot, but my costume is a jumpsuit. It was incredibly challenging since I was sweating alot. I remember carrying a handheld electric fan with me at all times. If you really want to know, there are scenes where I'm running and frantically trying to control the MeteoKaiju, and they used the sweat on me during filming to their advantage. You'll be able to see my natural sweat during the broadcast (laughs).

"As it's standard in tokusatsu productions, did you have any difficulties with filming that required compositing?"

Yoshida: When we film scenes where we fight Kaiju, we're basically in an imaginary world. In reality, there's a stick like object that's standing in my sight, and I act by using it to estimate the height of the Kaiju's eye level and the distance between us. We're of course shown visuals of the Kaiju and other objects before we start filming, but during the shoot we can only look forward to seeing how it'll turn out. When I saw the finished footage, it looked as if the Kaiju was actually there, so I was like, "So cool!," and it brought back the excitement of my youthful days.

"Did you also see the tokusatsu team on set?"

Yoshida: I went to observe them! I think it was the first time I'd seen explosions, Kaiju fighting each other, and Kaiju fighting Ultraman right in front of my eyes since I was a child watching the live hero shows. I was insanely excited as I thought, "This is what's going on!" As mentioned earlier, to see the connection between my imagination on the film set and the sight I was witnessing right in front of me made me extremely excited.

"Please give a message to our readers."

Yoshida: My character Hoshimi Kosei encounters Sorato and "hits a wall," but is able to get through it. The highlight of the series is the "buddy drama" between these two. And, if you watch all the way until the end, you'll see that it's a story that connects to the core of the series while also exploring the grand theme of, "Why does Ultraman protect Earth?" This production can be enjoyed by children and adults all over the world. I hope that it reaches as many people as possible, so I look forward to your support after this!

[literaryslapshot]

"you're already breaking your new years resolution"

31 days of blurbs | carmen berzatto x reader | contains: talk of having children,

there wasn't anything carmen loved more than a little one on one competition. the chance to prove he was the best, that he had the best work ethic, or that he was worth something? sign him up.

so when the idea was brought up of placing bets among the staff to see who would break their new years resolution first, he was all in. his resolution was simple, and somewhat realistic. 1 cigarette a day.

in reality he knows it's going to be hard for him to quit, so he decided to limit it to 1 a day. when he brought it up he got several laughs and jokes made, but he was serious about it.

"what made you choose that for your resolution?" you asked, sitting in your kitchen watching him make dinner for the two of you.

"i dunno, i think it'll help improve my health. make me feel better r'somethin'," he mumbled, dicing tomatoes and scraping them into the pot. but you knew the real reason. ever since you brought up the idea, the chance, of having kids with carmy, he's been all over it.

you've caught him putting things for a baby in his amazon wishlist, scrolling through tiktoks of 'things i wish i knew as a first time parent' videos, and even looking up 'top baby names'. but he wants to make sure that the restaurant is in good standing, he can't bring a baby into this world and not have some sort of stable income.

he has worked overtime making sure that when he eventually becomes a father, he'll be a good parent. so the real reason behind the cigarettes, is he wants to be healthy for his kid. he doesn't want to smoke around his kids, or even at all by that time.

"well i believe in you, you'll do great."

january 1 comes around. the staff has the day off, and he plans to spend the first day of the new year with you, in bed, with nothing else planned. and it was a great day, one of the best he's had in a while. loving on you, making you laugh, talking about anything and everything with you. the calm in his storm, the waving white flag in the middle of a war, that's how he thinks of you. and he only had one cigarette. i can do this, he thinks.

but then, day two comes. the restaurant is back open, richie is back to being a pain his everyones ass, and fak is back fucking everything up. at least, that's how carmy perceives it. he's never wanted a cigarette more in his life, and it's only 9 am.

10 am rolls around and he can't stand it anymore. sneaking out back, grabbing his lighter and a cigarette, he lights up feeling the stresses of his day (his 4 hour day at that point) subside for a little bit.

"you're already breaking your new years resolution?" richie jokes as he takes the trash out. carmen shakes his head, putting it out on the brick wall and throwing the waste away.

"no, that was my one for the day." he shortly responded, going back to work but not before pulling out his phone to text you.

gonna be a long fuckin day. i've already had my smoke for today, you might need to come give me a pick me up this afternoon. hahaha what if i was already planning on it? you know me so well fuck i love you

january was going to be a long month.

[melodic-haze]

h-hey 👯‍♀️😕😜🎀

Since you said in your other post that you wanted to write for either Miko or Ei, I HAD AN IDEA!!

What if Miko and fellow kitsune!Reader who start their breeding months (in january obviously) and have Ei volunteering herself to them not knowing that they can’t obviously be sated in just one day 🙄 (r.i.p her cunny)

☆ — DEMO TRACK: switch!Miko x sub!Ei x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader and Miko can shift what they want (specifically their genitals 😄), knotting and breeding (not really)

☆ — NOTES: You. YOUUUUUU. Are such a genius ily anon ty for this 🙏🙏🙏

Ohhhh this bitch REALLY fucked around and found out LOL I almost feel bad.......almost

Have to hand it to Ei though, she DID try to research before proposing the idea in the first place. Especially since this is set in the first year since she got out the PoE........but studying it obv won't be the same as the real thing LOL

You and Miko have fared relatively okay on your own—the two of you have ABSOLUTELY mated before to ease each other's heat but it always felt like something was missing. You both made sure to take procedures to make sure neither of you ever concieved a child after the process with the excuse of the two of you being way too busy to care for one but like. The actual main reason was that if you were to have a child, you both wanted to have the third piece of the puzzle there with you

Now that the third member of your polycule's back, your heats are STRONGER THAN EVER bc wtf she's acc here??? Ughfhghfhh neeeeeed......like do you get me I hope you do

It wasn't as if it was a normal discussion to have out in public (you both always talked about it indoors until neither of you needed to really talk ab it anymore from all the time spent w each other) but it was a nice picnic between the three of you; Ei's head was on Miko's thighs as she ate up yet ANOTHER skewer of tricolour dango while you were leaning on the latter's side when she brought it up

Ei cleared her throat with a slight tinge of nervousness, "Could I perhaps, ah.. assist the both of you in your mating period?"

You choked on the dango that you were about to swallow as you see Miko startle the slightest bit, nearly dropping her novel in the process.

When you managed to regain your composure (or at least a modicum of it), you could only rush out a simple "'scuse me?" as Miko placed her book down to the side with a raised brow.

Miko combed her fingers through Ei's hair as she questioned, "What brought this on, dear?"

"Well..." The Archon licked her lips as she slowly got her words out, "I've.. left you two for over five hundred years. And while I'm glad that you both had each other for company whenever the season hits, I cannot deny that.. well, I feel bad, I suppose."

"You feel bad," the shrine priestess mocked, which.. really, wasn't all that undeserved, despite the fact that she was mocking the nation's leader.

"For a lack of a better word, yes." She sits up and turns to the both of you, putting the now-empty skewer aside, "Now that I have returned from my admittedly self-imposed isolation, it would be remiss of me to.. avoid my duties as your lover."

"I don't mean to be rude, Your Excellency," you teased, "but do you even know what you're saying? You've been in the Plane of Euthymia for so long; I worry for your safety."

You hear the pink fox envoy let out a quiet snort of amusement for your slight condescension (all in good faith, of course) as Ei sighed, "I think you forget that I am not a fragile mortal who needs to be coddled—I can withstand brutal wars and come out victorious."

"Besides," she adds, "I have done a fair amount of research to refresh my knowledge. I assure you both that I can take whatever it is you give me."

Miko mused, "I thought you knew better than to rely on textbook information rather than actual experiment, Ei."

"You're trying much too hard to dissuade me from my offer."

"We both deserve to rib into you for at least a couple hundred years."

"Especially considering how we've been left to fend for ourselves..."

"I.. suppose I do deserve that. And I want to make amends for it all, starting with this. So.. will you let me help? Please?" She looked at the both of you with such sincerity despite the subject matter.

...

The fact that Raiden Ei herself was begging the two of you though...

The both of you jumped her sides with sharing grins, your ears flicking in sync as you let out your own laughs.

"You should hope that you don't regret that, Ei.."

"..Because we are rather.. insatiable."

Then comes the actual thing and ohhhhh girlie was NOT prepared

When I said your heats get worse bc of how Ei's back, I fucking MEAN IT. It's the fact that that familiar sweet smell isn't just a not-quite-forgotten memory for you two anymore that it's just driving you both abslutely NUTS

When she gets to you two she gets POUNCED ON and there is. Basically no break for her at all and foreplay is basically foreGONE atp tbh

Eat her cunt like a bitch STARVED it's like both you and Miko are competing and assisting each other at the same time like who can eat her out better, who can make her squirt, etc etc

SO MANY BITE MARKS ON HER HOLY SHIT like okay yes on you and Miko as well but both of you want to mark Ei EXTREMELY for all the time you've lost with her. The both of you wanna show both Ei and perhaps the entirety of Inazuma that archon is YOURS at the end of the day......at least, if the loud noises didn't give them enough of a hint 🤷‍♀️

You're so right anon rip Ei's cunny indeed bc both you and Miko ABUSE the living HELL out of it❗️❗️❗️ You do often have to personally pry Miko off when she's overstaying in the spot you're supposed to share 🫶🫶🫶🫶 just tell her she's being a VERY bad girl rn and she'll fold. Usually she wouldn't but the haze (lol) in her mind is sooo fucking thick she can't think straight and she can't think of the witty remarks she would've otherwise made :((( poor baby the only thing she wants to do is breed and get bred :(((((((

I need to spitroast her with Miko so very badly I'm ngl to you I neeeed I NEEEEED I need to see Ei being impaled on both ends, both sides basically slobbering

It'd be very messy and would 100% take so long before you finish but when you do, it's with your fellow kitsune's own pussy practically filled to the brim and Leaking as she's laid out and finally passed out as your hips are locked in on your Archon's own; you cumming inside of you for like the nth time and stuffing her full w a mix of both your and Miko's cum and essentially plugging it with an inflamed bulb :3

Whether Ei has a system that allows her to get pregnant or not, gen who knows.......but one thing's def for sure. Or like three things acc: one, you two are VERY clearly excited that your shared lover is finally back; two, turns out she absolutely LOVES being used and bred by her two partners; and three?

It was an unusually hard thing to do, waking up. Despite having an artifical body and being an archon that has faced true horrors and extreme exhaustion, she found herself absolutely spent from the marathon.. copulation.

Ei had hoped that her exhaustion meant that the two of you were much more tired than she was, even despite your inhumanity, and yet...

Her eyes couldn't help but flutter open as a sudden gasp left her lips—she sees you push into her roughly with a lust-addled look on your face. You were already inside her when she fell asleep, considering the animalistic knot that held the both of you together, but even when it had shrunk to a more.. manageable level, you still hadn't taken it out.

Then Ei looks slightly to the right and there she sees her pink-haired familiar, heavily breathing as she grinded her wet, hot pussy onto her thighs with such loud, obscene moans.

(If the Archon listened close enough, which she did, she would've noticed the slight growl to the sounds she made—such a sound was at its most clearest when she ducked down to press another bite mark on porcelain skin.)

She couldn't even utter a word to remark that she had just woken up, didn't even have the room to do anything to stop you before you started pounding away at her like your life depended on it.

..And she could. Really, she could. She wasn't the feared Raiden Shogun for nothing.

She could stop you if she wanted to.

If she wanted to.

But when she feels the residual fluids within her gush out as you essentially resculpt her insides over and over and over, when she feels the desperate whines that Miko lets out as she cums and covers her thigh in slick, well.

She finds that she doesn't really want to.

(And really, not only was it her fault for volunteering, but this is her responsibility as your lover.)

(She knew that, and she wasn't going to start shirking her responsibilities again.)

(Even if it costs her her mobility for a while. But it's fine, she can just do a lot of maintenance after.)

[messedupfan]

Chapter 27

Summary: Things are progressing well between Y/n and Wanda. But maybe not so much for the kids.

A/n: Thank you guys for waiting as long as you have. I am so sorry for the wait. It's been a stressful year 🙃

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist  | All Chapters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are sitting in your apartment at your kitchen table, scrolling on an email on your laptop. Now that your two year lease is up, the building management sent you the new contract. They're raising your rent two hundred dollars a month beginning January. You chew on your lip as you read each line carefully. You can't do an extra two hundred dollars on top of what you already pay. You're still paying off medical bills and other debts.

You breathe slowly as you look for the next place to live but most places nearby are a hundred dollars more than you pay now or are around the price this place wants you to pay. You rub your face as you try to consider your options. But unfortunately, you need to live in this area in order to keep Rachel in the school she's currently attending.

That money from Jean's mom is starting to look really good right about now. You blow air past your lips as you shut your laptop. You have a couple of months before anything happens. You have time to figure something out. You finish your coffee and finish getting ready for work.

Wanda rubs her temples during her meeting. A meeting that could have been a simple email. But of course, too many people have proven that they don't even look at their emails. She checks the time and notices that it's dangerously close to pick-up time. She knows that she won't make it out in time. She excuses herself to the restroom and pulls out her phone. She starts to text Agatha for help when she remembers that she doesn't need to ask a friend for favors like this anymore.

She has a partner now. A person she can rely on. At least she hopes she can. So she calls you instead.

“Hey you,” you answer as you're driving, on your way to pick up Rachel. “What's up?”

Wanda bites her lips as she suddenly grows nervous. “Hey, I'm stuck in a meeting and I won't be able to make it to the school in time-”

“Say no more, I've got the boys. I'm already on my way to pick up Rachel. I'll see you when you get home. Is there anything else I can do for you?” You answer cheerfully, happy to be able to help her since she has done so much for you in the past.

“Really? Are you sure? Because I can call Agatha or my mom if it's too much,” she says nervously. She's not sure why all of a sudden she is worried that you'll be upset about doing her this favor.

“It's not too much. Honey, I'm happy to do it. This will be the first of many times that I'll be picking up our kids,” you say with ease, not hesitating to claim her kids as your own. Wanda's heart flutters. She can't believe it. She is finally with a person that wants to be a parent and not with someone that just wants kids. She had no idea there was a difference until now.

“Thank you, I,” she was getting ready to say something until she looked at her watch and saw that it's been a few minutes. “I have to go. I love you. Bye!” She says before quickly hanging up and returning to her meeting.

You grow giddy as you get ready to pick up the kids from school. You park and walk up to the building. You find them talking to each other in the courtyard with a group of kids you remember from the birthday party for Tommy and Billy. Your daughter doesn't notice you but one of her friends does and nudges her as she points in your direction. Rachel isn't too happy to see you. She's been growing a bit of an attitude towards you lately. You do your best not to take it personally but it's difficult to see the change from bringing the light in her eyes to becoming an annoyance in her life.

Rachel says her goodbyes and heads towards you. “Alright, let's go I guess.” She says as she tries to pass by. You stop her by grabbing onto the handle on the top of her backpack.

“Hold on,” you say as you release her. “I'm taking Tommy and Billy too. Wanda is busy at work today.”

Rachel makes a face at the statement. “Doesn't she work from home?”

You nod, “Yes but she had an in-person meeting today. Just, please go grab them. We'll be eating at their house tonight.”

Rachel sighs and walks back to the group to grab Tommy and Billy. You're confused as to why she is annoyed that the two of you are joining Wanda and her kids for dinner. Tommy walks past you without looking at you. Then Billy gives you a quick smile as he passes. Rachel grumbles that she gets to sit in shotgun as she walks past you.

Something was going on with the kids and you knew you had to get to the bottom of it eventually. However, they are pre-teens and it could just be hormones. You get in the truck and drive the three kids to Wanda’s house.

“Make sure you guys do your homework before you start playing,” you say as Tommy heads towards the stairs.

“You're not my dad,” Tommy grumbles as he slows down and trudges up the steps, his mood quickly shifting at the mention of homework.

“No, I'm not. But I am in charge of you until your mom gets home,” you state with a calm firmness. There's no reason to get upset with him because he's right. However, he still needs to respect you as an adult and he still needs to take care of his responsibilities.

“Whatever dude,” Tommy grumbles on his way up. You're surprised by his attitude towards you but you figured this would happen eventually. Billy looks at you as he sets his backpack on an empty seat at the kitchen table.

“We haven't seen or heard from our dad in a couple of weeks. The last time we saw him, dad told us that Mom is evil and that you and her are planning on keeping us away from him,” Billy admits. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before continuing to unpack his bag.

“You have to know that's not true,” you say as you sit down across from him. Trying to make eye contact so that he knows that you're being honest with him. “Your mom would never keep you boys away from your father. She knows how important family is. She knows how much he means to the two of you. That would never happen.”

You watch as tears spring to his eyes and threaten to fall. “Is it bad that I wanted him to be telling the truth?” Billy says in a small voice as he starts to get worked up. You rise and walk around the table cautiously.

“Billy, why would you think such a thing?” You ask with concern as you continue to approach him.

“Because I can be myself here. I can dance and I can sing and I can audition for the school plays. I can't do that over there. He hates me. I think he really hates me,” Billy admits through his tears. He wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Hey buddy,” you say softly as you wrap your arms around him. Billy starts to shake and sob against your chest. “That's not true. Dad's are complicated. He loves you with all of his heart. He just doesn't know how to show it.” You try to comfort Billy the best that you can. Without saying things that he might one day repeat to his father.

You avoid overstepping when you can because you know that it's not you who suffers the consequences. It's the boys. Wanda does her best to keep Vision in the dark about what she does but the boys get chatty when they are excited. Especially Billy. He always wants to be open about what's going on in his life. You don't believe he should have to suppress that part of himself but his father is very sensitive.

Billy calms down after a bit and gets started on his homework. Rachel eventually moves from the living room into the dining area when she has too many questions and gets tired of shouting for your attention. Then Tommy returns to the main floor when he's finished pouting in his room.

You step away from their little study group when your phone starts buzzing. It's Wanda, your heart smiles at the silly image from her contact. “Hey you,” you answer softly.

“Hey babe, it sounds quite on your end. You didn't kill them did you?” She asks with a short giggle. You're happy to hear that she's in high spirits. No longer sounding as stressed as she did earlier.

“Yeah, you called while I was in the middle of digging up the backyard. Do you think I'll need a hole for each or will one suffice? I mean, they're pretty small for their age.” You add playfully as you check on them from around the corner. A smile is on each of their formerly grouchy faces.

“I think one should be fine,” Wanda states as you hear her enter her car. The sound quality on the phone changes as she switches to her car's bluetooth. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I can hear you fine. How was your meeting?” You ask as you take a seat on the sofa.

“It was bleh but you helped me a lot. I was so stressed about getting the boys home. When you picked them up for me it relieved a lot off my shoulders so thank you,” Wanda says gratefully.

“Wanda, you don't have to thank me,” you remind her as you play with the armrest of the sofa. “Are you heading home now?”

“Yeah, I'm on my way. I should be there in a half hour or so to relieve you of your duties,” she says the last part in a playful tone and you smile at her silliness.

“What if I don't want that?” You ask as an idea pops up in your mind.

“What do you mean?” Wanda’s tone tightens up a bit.

“I mean, what if this became permanent?” You ask with a shrug even though you know she can't see you.

“Look, I know I said I don't want a gaudy proposal but I will not accept one over the phone,” Wanda states half jokingly with a firmness in her tone.

“No, that's no. What I'm saying, or at least trying to anyway. What if we moved in together?” You ask, holding your breath as you wait for a response.

“Oh, um. Are you sure we should take that step so soon?” She asks, her brain and her heart having conflicting feelings.

“I'm just putting it out there,” you state in a simple tone to remove some of the weight.

“I will think about it and get back to you,” Wanda says in a stunned tone. You try to not feel a type of way about her answer. Then she makes up something about needing to focus on driving so the two of you hang up. You start to feel embarrassed and restless so you walk to the kitchen to start cooking.

When Wanda arrives at the house, you are still fumbling around in the kitchen while the kids help you. Once they finished their homework they decided to help you instead of continuing to laugh at your mistakes. Wanda stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you. She watches the way you are with her kids. The way you are with your own child. She watches you until you notice her and she notices how your eyes brighten up when you see her. Just the simple action of something you have no control over, causes her fears and worries to melt away completely. She walks into the kitchen and greets you with a short and sweet kiss to your lips.

“Let's do it,” she whispers.

Chapter 28

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @diealittlesometime @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles @the-ox-fan20 @shaniiwm @casualreadersstuff @neopolitan-torchwick @inarayofmoonlight @elle161989 @crimsonwidow666 @vael-altieri

[lortsyall]

Echoes of Eywa's Child.

chapter 1.

(Neteyam x Human!Reader series)

Pending....Pending....

Date: December 21st,2174.

Location: Office,Unit 4,Avatar Department,Human Outpost Biolab,Hallelujah Mountains,Pandora.

Time: 10:15 AM.

A long time has passed since I've known about this once alien planet. 4.4 light years away,a world full of life,like a lost paradise,sat idly in silence,away from the death and destruction that has scattered over Earth like a goddamn plague.

The ones before us saw the danger of it all,and yet they turned a blind eye,all because the climate change and the fractures in the atmosphere caused by the heightened levels of carbon dioxide wouldn’t affect them in the long run. They’d be dead anyway by the time it got too serious. So much for doing the right thing.

I wasn’t even born when they discovered Pandora,though until I actually got a grasp of reality and gained consciousness like everybody does at 5 years old,I’ve actually wondered if the so-called “Goldilocks Zone” existed somewhere else. If God smiled upon the universe and gave another planet the privilege of life.

Trust me,I have no idea how I even got here. So much time has passed since I’ve breathed in the polluted air of Earth,but I guess it’s for the benefit of all.

Guess we'll do it like they always do,huh?Start from the beginning of it all.

Pending...Pending...

Date: January 26th,2170

Location: Home,New York,USA, Earth.

Time: 12:43 PM.

Nobody ever thought that a girl like me would end up as the head leader of the Avatar Department,or an important person in the Resistance. And I gotta say,I never quite imagined myself becoming this. I dreamt of stages full of fans,as my fingers gave birth to heart-shattering riffs. Of poetry books released under my very own name,painting the pages with complicated feelings and sensations,all of a broken and imperfect human heart. Of having my own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame,making my country proud as a well known actress overseas. Though all those dreams were scattered away,like a feather in the wind,the moment I decided to do what any other scared yet artistically talented person who wants to make her parents proud does.

I got into STEM. Mechanical and Biological Engineering.

And between the sleepless nights of studying,drowning myself in math equations and lab reports,I got a one-way ticket to Pandora in my first year of college,from the one and only Parker Selfridge. Head administrator of the RDA’s operation in Pandora. I can still feel the anxiety lingering on my tongue. They never came with internships for first years,so what was he here for?

He came in to give out 5 internships at my college,yet he left with a new potential piece for this chess game. Me. All thanks to a question he asked that I knew the answer of. And to think I almost didn't say the answer because I thought everyone knew it,but as it turns out,only I did. I sat in the hallway with my friends,staring dumbfoundedly at the bussiness card he gave me.

Only back then,the RDA were treated as heroes,important people who made way for a better life. For an undead Earth. The propaganda was all enough to trick a little mind like mine,though it’s funny how I always thought I was a step ahead of everyone. Life on Earth as I remember it was,to say the least…grey.

The cities were gray. The people were gray. The sky was…well,grey. And between spending the rest of my life here,with my dreams crumbling before my very own eyes,and going out there to actually fight for a new home for humanity,you can guess why I chose the latter.

Nothing out of the ordinary was happening for me here anyway. Gorgeous girl,great personality,they all said,but nobody ever settled. Nobody ever stopped in their tracks to take in the pure and total beauty of the chaos that is me,so I never had a serious partner before. And…I guess I was also excited to see if the stories are true.

How an actual human betrayed his own race for a…Na’vi tribe princess?At least that’s how they put it,and I don’t even want to mention how embarrassing it was for the RDA to come back to Earth with their tails between their legs back in 2154. No unobtanium. No money. No Avatars. No nothing. I was three when that happened,and I remember playing with my cousins with our cardboard toys as our parents watched the TV in confusion and…disappointment,so you can guess why they made Jake Sully seem like an actual demon,and the death of a colonel was a pretty big deal,after all.

Thing is,the RDA only shows you the pearl in their hands,and not the mouth getting ready to swallow you whole. And now I know why they were so understaffed. That total failure after 2154 made people lose trust in the RDA over the years. But to me?

The decision came easily. I needed something new.

What didn’t,though,was the pure work I’d have to do in just 6 months. Learning the language of the natives,the Na’vi. Getting to understand the differences between our anatomy and theirs. The fauna and flora. The tribes. The ecosystems. And…of course,Eywa herself,though I learned that from Dr. Grace Augustine’s botany books,not from the RDA’s training program. I honestly don’t know what Selfridge saw in me,when I know I have friends better in college than me,but I better not question it too much.

I tried telling myself that as soon as I got in cryo,it wouldn’t be a goodbye,rather a…see you later. Looking back at it now,I think it was just wishful thinking. For now,I was me,the girl nobody ever really took seriously. Just another face in a sea of others. Next time I wake up,I’d have to work in an entire department with people twice my age.

Pending...Pending...

Date: July 31st,2174

Location: Pandora????

Time: ?????

The cryo-sleep thaw was a nightmare and a miracle all at once. My lungs burned as they dragged in air for the first time in four years, my throat raw and dry, every breath tasting metallic. My joints ached as if I’d aged a century.

“Subject revived.” the sterile voice of the AI announced, flat and emotionless. I tried sitting up, only to slump back down against the cryo pod’s restraints. My body wasn’t mine yet—not entirely.

“You’ll feel like shit for a while,” said a woman in a crisp lab coat, her voice muffled as she checked my vitals. “Side effects of long-term cryo. It’ll pass. Welcome to the ISV Valkyrie, and congrats on making it to Pandora.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and surreal. Pandora.

The next few hours were a blur of debriefings and medical checkups. My body eventually began to cooperate, but my mind lagged behind. I shuffled through endless corridors with other groggy personnel, each of us too stunned to speak. We were like ghosts wandering through a ship that pulsed with life—technicians barking orders, holograms buzzing with real-time scans of the moon’s surface, the low hum of engines preparing for atmospheric descent.

When the ship finally broke through Pandora’s atmosphere, I felt it in my chest. The vibrations reverberated through every bolt, every panel, and through me. The world outside the viewport was alive. The dense, green forests sprawled endlessly beneath the floating Hallelujah Mountains, their bases wreathed in ethereal clouds. The sky shifted from pink to blue in the blink of an eye, its colors alien yet breathtakingly familiar.

For a moment, the hum of engines and the chatter of voices faded away. It was just me and the sight of this strange, beautiful moon—a place that could have been paradise if we weren’t here to ruin it.

The ship landed with a jarring shudder, and the real work began.

Adjusting to life on Pandora was like learning to breathe all over again. Everything about this place demanded respect—the gravity was lighter, the air richer, and the biology... unfathomable. Days blurred into weeks as I threw myself into the work at the Avatar Department.

My mornings began with syncing sessions in the link pods. Afternoons were spent reading over files on Na’vi biology, studying their neural networks and learning their language. The words felt clumsy on my tongue, but I persisted. When I wasn’t in the lab or out on field assignments to observe Pandora’s ecosystems, I was immersed in RDA briefings.

That’s where I first heard his name again.

Jake Sully.

The briefings spoke of him like a ghost, a legend who had long since passed into myth. But here, his name was a warning.

“Resistance forces led by Sully attacked the rail line near Sector 7 again,” one of the military officers growled during lunch at the canteen. “Three shipments of amp suits lost. That bastard and his little insurgents are crippling our operations.”

The room buzzed with tension as reports of attacks piled up. Sabotaged trains, stolen supplies, and destroyed equipment—it was chaos. To the RDA, Sully wasn’t just a traitor. He was the personification of everything standing in the way of their plans.

But the more I learned, the more conflicted I felt. The propaganda painted him as a terrorist, a man who had betrayed his own kind for a primitive cause. But every whisper I caught from the scientists who had been here longer told a different story.

“Maybe Sully isn’t the villain they make him out to be,” I muttered to Dr. Ellison one evening as we worked late in the lab.

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable as he pointed towards a CCTV with his head,as if to say "Shut up. They're listening."

"That’s dangerous talk,you know. Keep your head down. Do your work. They don't like questions.”

I nodded, but the seed of doubt had already taken root.

The attacks continued, each one more brazen than the last. The RDA ramped up their operations in response, sending more troops and machinery into the wilds of Pandora. But for every move they made, the Resistance seemed to be one step ahead.

And then there was the tension between the people I worked with. Some were diehard loyalists, determined to see the mission succeed no matter the cost. Others—mostly the scientists—spoke in hushed tones about the beauty of the Na’vi culture, the interconnectedness of the flora and fauna, and the destruction we were bringing to this world.

I kept my head down, just as Ellison had warned. But at night, as I lay in my bunk staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but wonder: which side of history would I be on?

Pandora had a way of getting under your skin. The longer I stayed, the more I realized it wasn’t just a place. It was a mirror, reflecting humanity’s best and worst instincts back at us. And somewhere in the middle of it all was me—a girl who had come here for a fresh start, only to find herself caught in a war she didn’t fully understand.

The attacks became more than background noise; they became a constant undercurrent to life on Pandora. At first, they were just distant explosions, reports in the briefing room, or muttered curses from the military personnel in the mess hall. But over time, the Resistance started to feel like a presence, a shadow that loomed over everything the RDA tried to accomplish.

Jake Sully wasn’t just a name anymore—he was a force of nature.

The first time I felt the Resistance's impact directly was during a supply run. It was supposed to be routine—a quick trip to outpost Beta-5 to deliver Avatar-linked monitoring equipment. I was tagging along as part of my training, mostly to observe.

But the Resistance didn’t care about schedules or safety zones.

The attack was fast and chaotic. One moment, the AMP suits ahead of us were trudging through the dense forest, their movements mechanical and predictable. The next, arrows rained down from the trees, followed by explosions that sent the towering machines toppling like broken toys.

The ambush hit like a storm—sudden, violent, and unstoppable.

One moment, I was riding in the back of the supply truck, surrounded by crates of equipment and two guards sharing a nervous laugh. The next, the forest erupted in chaos.

The first explosion flipped the lead AMP suit, its towering frame crashing to the ground with a deafening roar. The convoy came to an abrupt halt as arrows rained down from the trees, their sharp points glinting like falling stars.

“Get down!” someone yelled.

I hit the truck bed hard, the impact knocking the wind out of me. My mask rattled against the metal floor as I scrambled for cover behind a crate. The world around me dissolved into a cacophony of gunfire, shouting, and the eerie war cries of the Na’vi.

The guards fired blindly into the trees, their exo-packs hissing as they struggled to maintain their aim under the pressure. I peeked over the edge of the crate just in time to see one of the AMP suits stagger, an arrow embedded in its cockpit.

Panic set in. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst. I wasn’t a soldier. I wasn’t trained for this. My human body was fragile here—one wrong move, and I’d be dead.

I clutched the sidearm they’d insisted I carry, though my hands were shaking too much to use it. What was I even doing here? This wasn’t supposed to be my fight.

A shadow passed overhead. My breath hitched as I looked up to see a Na’vi warrior leaping from a tree, his bow drawn, his movements impossibly fluid. He landed on the roof of the truck with barely a sound, his golden eyes scanning the scene below.

And then, those eyes locked onto mine.

For a moment, the chaos of the ambush melted away, leaving only silence between us.

He stood above me, perched on the edge of the truck’s roof, silhouetted against the glowing forest. His figure was tall and commanding, every line of his body taut with a warrior’s grace. The flickering bioluminescence of the nearby trees played off his skin, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across his lean, muscular frame.

His face was angular and strong, the high cheekbones and sharp jawline unmistakably Na’vi, yet there was something softer in his expression. His golden eyes, large and luminous, fixed on me with an intensity that felt like a physical force. They weren’t filled with rage or cruelty but something far more unnerving—calculated curiosity, as though he were trying to read my soul in that single moment.

The streaks of blue war paint decorating his face didn’t fully mask the smooth, rich azure of his skin, which gleamed faintly under the pale light of Pandora’s twin moons. His braids, adorned with small beads and feathers, swayed gently with each subtle movement, a testament to the culture he carried with him like armor.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that struck me—it was his presence.

He radiated confidence, a quiet power that demanded attention without arrogance. It was the kind of aura that made the world around him seem smaller, less significant. The chaos raging around us felt like a distant hum compared to the weight of his gaze.

And yet, beneath that commanding presence, there was something deeper—an unmistakable grief, perhaps, or a burden that someone so young should never have to carry. It was in the set of his shoulders, the faint downturn of his mouth, and the way his hands gripped the bow with both precision and purpose.

“Drop it,” he said, his voice deep and steady, but with a softness that caught me off guard.

The words hit me like a command, though they weren’t barked or shouted. It was the tone of someone who expected to be obeyed—not out of fear, but respect.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. The sidearm in my trembling hands felt heavier than it should, as if the very act of holding it was a betrayal. His gaze flicked to the weapon, then back to me, and I realized with a jolt that he wasn’t looking at me like an enemy. He was looking at me like a question.

“You are… different,” he said, tilting his head slightly, the movement as fluid and deliberate as everything else about him. His accent curled around the words, each syllable infused with the lyrical cadence of his native tongue.

I wanted to speak, to ask him what he meant, but my throat felt dry, my voice lost in the weight of the moment.

He crouched slightly, lowering himself onto one knee so we were nearly at eye level. Even then, his presence dwarfed mine. Up close, the details became sharper—the faint patterns of his skin, the slight twitch of his ears as they picked up the sounds of the battle behind him, the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“You do not fight,” he observed, the faintest hint of curiosity threading through his words. His eyes lingered on mine, their golden glow unwavering. “And you… fear.”

It wasn’t an accusation. It was a statement of fact, delivered with neither judgment nor malice.

His hand shifted slightly, and I flinched, but he didn’t reach for me. Instead, he pointed at the weapon still lying on the ground between us.

The Na’vi reacted instantly. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet with startling gentleness.

“You do not belong here,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Run.”

“What—”

“Go!”

He released me and darted back into the fray, moving with the grace of a predator and the determination of someone who had everything to lose.

I didn’t run. Not immediately. Instead, I crouched behind the truck, my legs trembling as I watched the battle unfold.

He moved like the forest itself, blending into the chaos with a skill that seemed almost supernatural. He wasn’t just fighting—he was leading. The other Na’vi warriors followed his signals, their coordinated strikes overwhelming the RDA forces.

For every bullet fired, they had an arrow. For every shout of anger, they answered with a battle cry that sent chills down my spine.

And yet, amidst the violence, there was something strangely... noble about them. They didn’t kill indiscriminately. They targeted the machines, the vehicles, the weapons. It was as if they were trying to make a point rather than simply annihilate us.

When the ambush finally ended, the Resistance had melted back into the forest, leaving behind a convoy in ruins. Smoke rose from the wreckage, and the air was thick with the smell of burning fuel.

I stumbled out from behind the truck, my legs barely holding me up. Around me, the survivors were regrouping, their faces pale and shell-shocked.

“Medic!” someone called, dragging a wounded soldier from the wreckage.

But I couldn’t move. My mind was stuck on him—the way he’d looked at me, the way he’d spared me when he could have easily ended my life.

“You do not belong here,” he’d said.

The words echoed in my head as I stared at the destruction around me. For the first time, I began to wonder if he was right.

[salemssimblr]

My Top 24 Screenshots Renders of 2024!

I was tagged by the so many lovely mutuals and creators! Thank you @elderwisp, @savagemagician3, @sikoi, @blvckentropy, @mosneakers, & @azeterna! I love yall so much!

I'm so sorry, despite my very best efforts I couldn't choose just 24, so have 30 instead 😅

Looking at all these together, I'm worried I may have plateau'd just a bit 😅 No but in reality, it's really cool to see that I've refined my style and methods over the year, starting in January and continuing it all through 2024. Seeing progress and improvement is one of my favorite things about this process, so doing these recaps is always enjoyable.

January:

Looking back, I'm still so proud of the first dancing set of renders for Ariss & Vasily, and who could forget the first Alice sighting?? I can't, look at her.

February:

February was a bit of a slow month for me but I still love how this A+tM album cover came out!

March:

March was a bit slower, but I love this set of Ariss (:

April:

April was a goood month, I'm still so in love with all three of these.

May:

MerMay was lacking for me a bit this year, but I really love how my contribution turned out (: & this spicy render of Ariss & Vasily is one of my favorites, if for no other reason than his little fang peek.

June:

June was all about Alice + the Madness! & like LEGIT? I still can't believe I made this Rolling Stone cover? I have a secret, I've tried to make another one for Alice, but nothing has or probably will ever look as good as this one so I've given up lmfaoooo

& this render of Erisande was such a labor of love. I sat down and said it'd be really quick and then spent hours editing meshes and adjusting the lighting... but then, that always happens with me and "quick" renders 😅

July:

Bit of a slow month, but I'm still so floored (& happy!) about the love Millie has gotten! This isn't even a completed render and it's one of my most well-received posts to date haha, but I can't blame anyone, look how cute she is.

August:

Ramping up into spooky season we have two of my favorite renders of all time, my "bog demon" and mothwoman! As obsessed as I am with Ariss and Vasily, it's really nice to do creative one-off renders and these were both SO FUN to do. I hope to do more in the new year too (:

September:

This iconic portrait of Ariss will always be one of my favorites (& is actually my computer's wallpaper rn, but a version updated with her 'new' tattoos), & this render of Kai could definitely be improved on (maybe in the new year...) but it was a really fun challenge! I do see flaws in it now but that's growing and learning!

October:

October was (not surprisingly) a very busy month for me! The idea for the render of Theo & Millie had been rolling around in my head since I first created them, & while the end result wasn't exactly what I was envisioning, I still really love how it turned out.

& though this set of renders for Ariss & Vasily took me FOR-FUCKING-EVER, and I see a lot of flaws even now (after trying my damnedest to have NONE), I still really love it. The end result/edit/colorway was NOT what I planned but I really fell in love with it.

November:

November, the month of ambitious scene-building, pose-making, and upping my skin shader game in a BIG way. I spent literal hours perfecting Ariss' new tattoo, and literal days building the scene for that gorgeous render of Kai.

& I'm so glad yall love that pose set! It was definitely a learning experience and a labor of love.

December:

Looking at this overview, December has been dark and spicy lmfao but I actually love it. Once again, all of these took wayyyy longer than I thought they would when I sat down to start them, but I'm genuinely in love with all three!

& that's a wrap (so far) on 2024! I'm having surgery tomorrow so not sure I'll be able to create/post anything else this year, but I have big plans for 2025! So stay tuned (:

I'm tagginggggggg @kuroashims, @a-m-pyra. @acidheaddd, @gothoffspring, @pralinesims, @thebramblewood, @moonfromearth, @nepotisim, & YOU, I want to see all your creations!

(There were a LOT more creators I wanted to tag but I saw yall have already done this!)

[foxs0x]

I am literally a graphic designer for my career but I couldn't be fucked editing a template, so here's how my art has evolved in the last 12 months!

January - @meanbossart 's Dark Urge

This was the first digital thing I'd done in over a year at this point. I took an extended break from art because my (old) job was ruining my mental health. (Which is why I quit it :D !) And his Drow character is really well thought out and very unique so I had to draw him. (His art is also very inspiring to me so check out his page!)

February - was still in my Baldur's Gate kick and loved that lizard (still do) and it was also my first time doing environmental art. I couldn't figure out how to do the "mood" I was imagining so I had to look up famous movie shots that were noir, dark and moody to figure out what the heck to do.

MORE UNDER THE CUT 👇😁

March - My D&D character Istdrin, a Drow sorcerer who was sexually attracted to spiders... And got eaten by spiders. (I had to make a new character after this 🤣) Rest in peace you sick fuck

April - Astarion, my fave BG3 companion (besides Wyll & Shadow heart!) I wanted to design a fancy suit for him and a modern haircut.

May - my first drawing of my V (Vicentije.) I had just bought Phantom Liberty at this point and was also trying to figure out how to draw him and how I imagine he would look. Alas I am a console player so I can't mod his tattoos in or his face sculpt etc. (but in a few months I'll finally have saved enough money for a PC haha!) he's gone through a few changes design-wise and I'm still tweaking him tbh

June - first art for my fanfic End Transmission

I just finished Phantom Liberty and had this idea brewing in my head. I'd also started writing my fic too! I'm not really happy with V:s face here and I've also since made more changes to his design, so he doesn't even have these tattoos anymore lol! (Except for the 13 on his forehead because he is unlucky)

July (??) (nothing)

August - Johnny Silverhand

I actually did this right before I went to America this year. I was drawing this at the Sydney airport and painting it on the flight to Los Angeles. I am still really happy with how this turned out.

September - I did this in my downtime while in the states. I started drawing the frames in my first week in America (while I was at my aunties house in Los Angeles) and finished it during hurricane Francine in New Orleans!

October - Johnny Silverhand again! I tried drawing a few comic panels of my fanfic End Transmission when I got back to Australia.

November - original character I'm working on. He's an ugly vampire who was an artist in his human life and made very beautiful things.

December (??)

Nothing really for December yet lol! Just lots of wips and ideas I'm still working on

Overall my art has made a HUGE improvement this year. I've been focusing on better quality lines the last two months but all year I've been working on more dynamic poses and colouring!!

[unabashegirl]

Vicious 14 — mafia hs

After his father's death, Harry Styles must take control of the family mafia while dealing with his unpredictable brother, Silas. He meets Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, and learns about their arranged marriage.

Author's note: Hello everyone! I only have one more story to update and everything will be up to date! Let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged!

I'm trying to come up with new ideas for one shots. Pls vote! Especially if you are subscribed to Patreon! Help Decide the Next One-Shot!

I'm still trying to gather the money to continue my journey to medical school in January. I've only gotten 1% of my goal. I'll leave the link here in case you would like or are able to help me. Please I am desperate! 🥺 https://ko-fi.com/mariabernal8706

Collections on Patreon!: These are ⭐️one-time purchases⭐️ that give you access to specific stories or series, even if they’re not fully finished. 👉🏻 You’ll get all the chapters available so far and automatically receive any new chapters as they’re posted. 👈🏻No membership needed! It’s perfect for those who want to enjoy a specific story without a monthly subscription. Plus, it’s a great way to support my work while getting exactly what you’re excited to read. Head over to my Patreon, find the Collections section, and grab the one that speaks to you. Once purchased, the content is yours to enjoy as it’s updated.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to the rest of the chapters, various one shots and much more :)

--> vicious masterlist <--

He slammed his hands against the table, causing dishes and glasses to rattle and drawing the attention of everyone in the restaurant. At first, Y/N flinched at the sudden outburst, but she quickly composed herself, unruffled by her father's display. She had grown accustomed to his volatile temper over the years. Federico had a tendency to throw tantrums like a petulant child whenever things didn't go his way.

"You will not disrespect me, Y/N! I am your father. Just because you are now living with him doesn't make you superior or any better," he hissed at her, his anger palpable as the food was served. Though she had no appetite, she forced herself to eat, following Harry's instructions to wait at least twenty more minutes before leaving.

"I deserve respect too," Y/N muttered under her breath as she cut into her chicken, her tone subdued but firm. "And I don't feel superior to you."

Federico was taken aback by her response, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Y/N had always been compliant, never daring to challenge him or speak out of turn. This new assertiveness was unexpected, and it left him feeling unsettled.

"It's only been three months since you moved out of the house and look at you! Speaking out of turn, sharing your opinion like you have any say, and feeling superior," Federico chuckled darkly. "You need to be disciplined." His voice was low and stern, sending a shiver down Y/N's spine.

Y/N couldn't help but feel intimidated and scared by his tone. It reminded her of the darkest times, when her father forced her to do things she didn't want to do. All the humiliation, insults, and mental abuse had finally gotten to her. She wasn’t sure if Harry had anything to do with it, but the fact that she didn’t live at home helped her feel somewhat more confident.

“This conversation isn’t going anywhere,” she rolled her eyes. “I just wanted to tell you that I will be starting to prepare for the wedding.” Y/N knew that her father wasn’t happy with the agreement between them. He hated having to surrender Y/N. Not because he felt some sort of affection for her like any devoted parent, but because she was an asset. Ever since her father realized that men watched her in a different way, she became valuable in his eyes.

When Federico made the deal with Arthur, the Italian mafia found themselves in a very delicate situation. They were on the brink of extinction. Arthur had spent the majority of his time in power tearing them down. Once he had them by the neck and Federico on his knees pleading, he finally allowed him to talk.

“It’s funny that you still think you're going to marry that stronzo,” Federico remarked. He had plans, a few tricks up his sleeve, and he was sure that Harry was too inexperienced and too young to anticipate any moves from him.

“I am, because at the end of the day, you threw me out of the house without ever telling me, "She retorted, wiping her mouth and taking one last sip of her glass of wine.

As Y/N finished her conversation, she briskly ended it with a, “I’ll be sending the invitations. Please confirm your assistance,” before swiftly retrieving her purse and coat from the back of her chair. She didn’t bother to glance back as she prepared to leave.

However, Federico was quick to react. His hand shot out and gripped her arm tightly, yanking her back with force. His voice was laced with venom as he hissed, “If you're choosing their side, I would start watching my back,” his fingers digging into her arm.

Y/N winced and pulled her arm away from his grasp. Rather than dignifying his threat with a response, she wordlessly made her way out of the restaurant. The car was already waiting at the entrance, a clear sign that Harry hadn’t sent her without any security.

The drive home was unusually quiet, especially since Y/N didn’t recognize the men accompanying her in the car. She knew only Lex and Charlie were allowed around her by Harry. She hoped that everything had gone smoothly with their mission.

"Has Harry returned?" Y/N voiced her query aloud, hoping for a response from any of the men present.

"Yes, ma'am. They returned ten minutes ago," the driver promptly replied as they drove out of the city and back home. Y/N refrained from asking further questions; all she cared about was their safe return.

Y/N found herself grappling with conflicting emotions regarding her relationship with Harry. She couldn’t discern if she was developing genuine feelings for him or if she simply cared for him as a person.

Upon arriving home, she immediately went upstairs in search of Harry, but was surprised to find his usual spot empty. Y/N wandered through the house, searching for any sign of Harry. She checked the living room, the study, and even ventured into the kitchen, but he was nowhere to be found. Feeling a twinge of concern, she headed towards his bedroom.

As she approached the door, she could hear faint voices coming from inside. Y/N hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should intrude on whatever conversation Harry was having. But curiosity got the better of her, and she gently pushed the door open.

Y/N's heart raced as she approached Harry's bedside, her eyes widening at the sight of his wounded side. Blood stained his hands and pooled around him, his complexion unnaturally pale and sweat beading on his brow.

"What happened?" she exclaimed, her voice drawing the attention of the men gathered around. "Has anyone called a doctor?"

"Yeah, he's on his way," Charlie replied, allowing her to come closer to Harry's bed. With trembling hands, Harry reached for a glass of whiskey on his nightstand and took a sip, his expression strained with pain.

As Y/N drew closer, she could see the tension etched into Harry's features. His usual air of command was overshadowed by discomfort, and it unsettled her to see him in such a vulnerable state.

"What happened?" she repeated, her voice softer this time, laced with concern.

Harry glanced up at her, his gaze momentarily meeting hers before flickering away. "It's nothing," he muttered, though the strain in his voice betrayed his attempt at reassurance.

Y/N's brow furrowed with worry. She knew better than to press further when Harry was in one of his moods, but seeing him like this stirred a protective instinct within her. She wished she could do something to ease his pain, to make him feel better, but she knew her presence alone wouldn't suffice.

As they waited for the doctor to arrive, an uneasy silence settled over the room, broken only by the occasional murmured conversation among Harry's men. Y/N hovered nearby, feeling helpless and out of place amidst their tense vigil.

After what felt like an eternity, the sound of footsteps in the hallway signaled the arrival of the doctor. Y/N watched as he hurried into the room, his expression grave as he assessed Harry's condition. Without a word, he set to work, his movements swift and efficient as he tended to Harry's injuries.

As the doctor worked, Y/N found herself drawn to Harry's side, her heart aching at the sight of him in pain. She longed to reach out, to offer some form of comfort, but she hesitated, unsure of how he would respond to her touch.

Eventually, the doctor finished his examination, offering a few words of reassurance before departing. Left alone with Harry and his men, Y/N felt a sense of unease settle over her. She knew there were questions lingering in the air, unspoken but palpable, waiting to be addressed.

"Clear the room!" Harry barked, irked by the lingering presence of others. He sensed an improvement in his condition but craved solitude to fully recuperate. Y/N obediently turned to exit along with the other men, but Harry's voice halted her in her tracks.

"Not you," he called out specifically to her. She paused, waiting until the others had left the room. Y/N then removed her coat, placing it alongside her purse on the futon beside the bed before approaching him. "How was Federico?" Harry inquired, his tone betraying a mix of curiosity and wariness.

Uncertain of how her response might affect him, Y/N hesitated. She knew that anything she said about Federico could potentially anger him.

"Fine," she replied with a casual shrug, observing his discomfort as he attempted to adjust the pillows behind his head. Without a word, she reached out and assisted him, arranging the pillows to provide better support.

Once Harry was settled, Y/N took a step back, her gaze lingering on his wounded form. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern, despite their complicated relationship.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, acknowledging her assistance with a faint nod.

Y/N nodded in return, her expression unreadable as she debated whether to stay or leave. Harry's piercing gaze met hers, silently urging her to stay a little longer. His gaze shifted to her bare arm, and he noticed the bruising that had begun to form.

"Who did this to you?" Harry's voice was firm as he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

Y/N winced slightly as Harry's grip tightened on her wrist. She hesitated, unsure whether to tell him the truth. But seeing the concern in his eyes, she knew she couldn't keep it from him.

"It's nothing, just a little accident," she replied, trying to downplay the severity of the situation.

Harry's brows furrowed in disbelief. "That doesn't look like 'nothing' to me," he said, his tone softening slightly as he examined the bruise. "Did someone hurt you?"

Y/N hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. She knew Harry could be protective, even possessive, and she didn't want to cause unnecessary trouble. But she also trusted him, and she knew keeping secrets would only strain their relationship further.

"It was Federico," she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "He grabbed me at the restaurant earlier."

Harry's expression hardened at the mention of her father's name. "He laid a hand on you?" His voice was low and dangerous, his grip on her wrist tightening unconsciously.

Y/N nodded, her eyes downcast. "It's nothing, Harry, really," she said, trying to reassure him. "I can handle it."

But Harry's jaw clenched in anger, his protective instincts kicking in. "I’ll handle it”.

Harry's eyes bore into hers, a mixture of concern and fury swirling within them. Y/N could feel the tension crackling in the air, the weight of his determination pressing down on her.

But she reached out, gently laying her hand on his, willing him to understand. "Harry, please," she implored softly, her voice tinged with apprehension. "I don't want you to do anything rash. It'll only make things worse."

For a moment, Harry seemed torn between his desire to protect her and his instinct to retaliate against those who harmed her. But then, with a heavy sigh, he relented, releasing her wrist and running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I'll handle him," Harry declared with a steely resolve, his mind already racing with plans for their next encounter.

Harry leaned back against the pillows, his mind abuzz with thoughts of retaliation against Federico. Despite his injuries, he was determined to make his move, to assert his dominance and strike fear into the heart of his adversary. Y/N watched him quietly, her concern evident in her eyes as she observed his unwavering determination.

As the tension of the day began to fade, Harry and Y/N found themselves alone in the quiet of his bedroom. The soft glow of candlelight danced across the walls, casting a warm and intimate atmosphere around them. Y/N sat on the end of the bed with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with a tenderness that melted away the hardness of his exterior.

Without a word, he reached out to take her hand, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. Y/N felt a rush of warmth blood through her as she met his gaze, the unspoken connection between them palpable in the air. Slowly, Harry brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch feather-light against her skin.

In that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own private world. Harry drew her close, enveloping her in his embrace as he pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. Y/N closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his lips against her skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in her ears.

With a gentle hand, Harry tilted her chin upwards, capturing her lips in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of the emotions swirling between them. In that kiss, they found solace, comfort, and an unspoken promise of something more.

As they finally pulled away, breathless and filled with a newfound sense of closeness.

"You need to rest and heal properly.” she murmured, her voice filled with genuine concern.

"I can't, not when there's still so much to do," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. “Ask Charlie and Lex to come up here" Harry instructed after planting a brief kiss on her lips. "There's something I need to discuss with them."

Y/N nodded in acknowledgment and rose to her feet.

"Oh, and there's a surprise for you downstairs," he added before she exited the room. With a smile, Y/N left to discover her surprise and locate Charlie and Lex.

As Y/N descended the stairs, her mind raced with curiosity about the surprise Harry had mentioned. She reached the bottom step and scanned the room, her eyes eagerly seeking out any sign of the unexpected treat.

Just then, she spotted Charlie and Lex chatting in a corner. She made her way over to them, her heart still fluttering with excitement from the surprise awaiting her.

With a smile, she informed them, "Harry wants to see you."

As they ascended the stairs, Charlie added, "Your surprise is in the garden."

Confused yet intrigued, Y/N made her way outside to the gardens. She hadn't explored much of the outdoor space, but she'd always found it a welcome reprieve from the darkness within. The sight that greeted her was breathtaking – meticulously arranged flowers adorned the lush greenery, casting vibrant splashes of color against the backdrop of shadows.

She stepped into the garden, a symphony of colors greeted her eyes. The air was thick with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, their delicate petals swaying gently in the breeze. Roses of various hues, from crimson red to soft pink, adorned the edges of the garden beds, their fragrance filling the air with an intoxicating perfume.

Clusters of lavender bushes added a touch of purple to the scene, their slender stems swaying gracefully with each passing gust of wind. Among them, vibrant daisies stretched their petals towards the sun, their cheerful faces turned upwards as if basking in its warmth.

In the center of the garden, a stone fountain bubbled merrily, its crystal-clear waters reflecting the sunlight in a dazzling display. In front of it stood a woman with her back turned, her short, brown hair falling in loose waves. She wore a simple t-shirt paired with sweatpants.

“You know, not everything is as ugly as you described,” the woman said before turning around. Y/N couldn't believe her eyes as she stared at her best friend.

"What?" Her voice broke as she gazed at Giana standing before her, a big smile on her face.

"They aren't as bad as you thought," Giana said, quickly pulling her into a tight hug.

Giana held onto Y/N for a moment before pulling back slightly to look at her face. "I've missed you," she said softly, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions.

Y/N felt tears welling up in her eyes as she hugged Giana tightly once more. "I've missed you too," she admitted, her voice choked with emotion.

They stood there in the garden, holding onto each other, the weight of their separation lifting with each passing moment. Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and happiness wash over her as she realized that her best friend was finally back in her life.

“What are you doing here?! How did you get here?!” Y/N asked, she had loads of questions as she looked at her and studied her. Y/N's voice quivered with a mixture of astonishment and curiosity as she bombarded Giana with questions. Her hair had changed. She used to have long and beautiful hair and now it was up to her shoulder. It was different, but Giana was pretty enough to pull off any hairstyle. “What happened to you hand?” She blurted another question noticing the bandaging around her hand.

Giana wiped away the tears from Y/N's cheeks with a gentle touch. Giana offered a tentative smile in response to Y/N's inquiries, understanding the flood of confusion that must be rushing through her friend's mind. "I know, it's a lot," she began, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness. "Let's catch up," she suggested with a warm smile, her eyes filled with genuine affection.

Y/N nodded eagerly, feeling a sense of excitement at the prospect of spending time with her long-lost friend. With Giana by her side, she knew that things were finally starting to look up.

--> Chapter 15

[animesmolbean]

Try Defying Gravity

A Twisters fanfiction

Author's Note: Welcome to the first chapter of my Twisters fanfiction! I've been wanting to do one for some time now, ever since I saw Twisters back in early January. I loved the original, and seeing this sequel become successful and popular was great!

For this chapter, I tried my best to make a scenario to set up the story. I didn't want it to be exactly like the opening, but still something that could happen. This is new territory for me in regards to writing. I promise the other chapters will get better as they go on.

I hope you like the first chapter! ♥️

(Your Name) thought she wouldn't see a tornado. She knew they could happen anywhere but living in Illinois made her feel safe. Despite that fear, she was also fascinated by them. She wanted to face her fears. Feel like she's defying everything. But after a traumatizing incident, she has feared tornadoes. Five years after the incident, she goes to Oklahoma for an opportunity; during a storm surge unlike any other, where she catches everyone's attention and becomes intrigued with a certain YouTuber. The one who will help her face her fears and defy gravity.

Chapter 1: Horror in the Sky

The plains of Illinois were calm at this time of day. The corn swaying in the gentle wind, the sky was gray with possible incoming rain.

(Your Name), a recent high school graduate, was sitting in the passenger seat of her friend Jake's pickup. Him and her two friends, Sarah and Liam, who were seated in the back.

They were all jamming out to the radio, now playing country music. It was previously playing pop music but as they got closer to farming areas, the radio changed. Once the song ended, (Your Name) turned to Jake.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Jake turned to look at his friend. “Of course I'm sure. Sarah and Liam feel the same.”

Liam leaned forward in between the front seats, “Yeah, you're the only one who hasn't seen one before.”

“I told you I didn't want to go looking for one.” (Your Name) argued.

“But exposure therapy is a good way to face your fears. Besides, this storm we're heading towards isn't a powerful one. I checked the equipment my dad has at home. Plus, the storm surge that happened in the Midwest is done now. We shouldn't be getting any more strong tornadoes for a while.” Sarah reassured her friend.

(Your Name) sighed. Ever since she told her friends that she has never seen a tornado before, they all gasped and joked that if she wanted to go into meteorology or something similar to that field, she needed some exposure. She argued that it wasn't absolutely necessary.

All her friends have seen tornadoes before. Liam lived in Kansas for most of his life, before moving to Illinois before high school. So he has seen more tornadoes than he can count on his hands; all in various sizes and strengths. Sarah was originally from Oklahoma, but moved to Illinois when she was six because her family felt unsafe living there. Much like Liam, she's also seen quite a lot of tornadoes too, in varied strengths and sizes. Jake was born in Nebraska but moved to Illinois when he was ten. While he hasn't seen as much as Liam and Sarah, he has seen his fair share of twisters.

(Your Name), meanwhile, had only experienced a tornado once before. But, she was in a shelter when it happened, so she technically hasn't seen one in real life.

But the truth of the matter was; she was unnerved by tornadoes.

“Still, I don't like this.”

“Didn't you say you were intrigued by tornadoes?” Jake joined in the conversation again.

“Intrigued, Jake. Keyword, intrigued. I can still be uneasy about them.” (Your Name) said.

“While you have a point, it's still best to experience one before going to school for meteorology.” Sarah said.

“I've never experienced a hurricane or an earthquake and you guys don't consider it a hole in my education.” (Your Name) argued.

“We live in Illinois, near Tornado Alley. Not in Florida for hurricanes or California for earthquakes.” Liam countered.

“Thank you very much, Captain Obvious.” (Your Name) quipped.

The other two friends laughed.

“Whatever.” Liam rolled his eyes good-naturally.

They continued to drive down the road. The further they drove, the darker the sky started to become. Each time the sky darkened, (Your Name) felt a knot in her stomach.

Then, the rain started to come down. First, it was light, but after a minute, it started to pour, and then, it was raining hard. Then, the wind started to pick up.

“Ooh! This is definitely tornado weather!” Liam said with excitement.

“The forecast said it'll be around 80 mph..” Sarah informed the group.

“Definitely EF1 territory.” Jake said.

(Your Name) inhaled and exhaled softly, hearing her friends. After doing the same thing four other times, she felt calm and determined. She was going to face her fears.

Just then, a giant cloud in the distance started to spin slowly, and before they knew it, a skinny funnel touched down onto the grassy ground. It was a tornado.

“Hahaha! There it is, baby! There it is!” Liam exclaimed in excitement.

“This is it! Your first tornado, (Your Name)!” Jake smiled.

(Your Name) looked at the spinning funnel through the heavy rain. She had to admit, it looked pretty cool.

“Let's drive a little closer.” Jake suggested before looking at (Your Name). “Don't worry. We won't get too close.”

(Your Name) smiled softly at Jake's reassurance and nodded confidently. “Let's do it!”

Jake sped up and headed towards the tornado. Liam and Sarah cheered as they got closer and (Your Name) couldn't help but join in the excitement, smiling widely.

Eventually, Jake stopped the car, a decent distance away from the tornado, and opened the car door. Liam and Sarah both jumped out immediately after he did, and then (Your Name) followed. The four friends walked closer to the funnel, still keeping their distance. Sarah and Liam held hands as they did while (Your Name) walked on Sarah's other side with Jake on her other side. They stopped after walking a couple of feet to marvel at it. (Your Name) took out her phone and snapped a picture of the phenomenon.

“Well, what do you think, (Your Name)?” Sarah asked, her arm wrapped around Liam.

“She's beautiful.” (Your Name) breathed, taking another photo.

Out of excitement, (Your Name) jogged to get closer.

“Careful, (Your Name)! Don't get too close!” Liam lightly warned.

“I won't! I promise!” (Your Name) yelled back.

While her friends stayed where they were, (Your Name) got closer to the tornado. When she was around 30 feet away from the spinning funnel, she snapped another picture, smiling widely.

But then, something happened.

(Your Name) suddenly felt the air getting heavier. It was kind of heavy before but it seems thicker now.

Suddenly, the tornado spinning seemed to grow in size. It was at an EF1 size before, but now it looked like it was widening. But then, it shifted course. Now, instead of heading south, like where it was going, it switched to north…

It was heading straight towards her.

“(Your Name)! Run! Run, now!”

Her friends’ cries of fear broke her state of mind.

Fear struck her immediately and she backed away, turned around and started running towards her friends.

The wind picked up significantly, and the rain came hard even harder, crystalizing into tiny chunks of ice.

The four friends ran to their car as fast as they could, the tornado heading straight for them.

They frantically got into the car and Jake slammed on the brakes.

“What happened?! Why did it change course?!” Jake exclaimed.

“I don't know! This wasn't supposed to happen!” Liam yelled.

Sarah looked out her window. “The tornado! It's getting wider and wider! It's got to be at least a mile wide!”

“That's impossible.” Jake said, focusing on driving the pickup truck.

“It's an EF5.” (Your Name) said grimly.

“How?! How did this happen?!” Liam exclaimed.

“The moisture. It must've died down and picked up somewhere else. That's why the tornado changed its course. It needs that moisture to stay alive. The wind direction must've contributed to it too.” (Your Name) explained.

“We need to get out of here. It's coming in fast. Step on it, Jake!” Sarah yelled.

“I'm going as fast as I can!” Jake exclaimed.

He was. But with the harsh wind and heavy rain and hail, it made it almost impossible to see.

The hail grew in size, and now it was golf ball sized. It hit the truck many times as Jake drove wildly on the rain-soaked road. The tornado roared like a freight train behind them.

(Your Name) couldn't believe it. This wasn't the plan. This shouldn't be happening. It couldn't be happening. Panic set in, and she gripped the car seat tightly.

Liam and Sarah were yelling in fear as Jake weaved, avoiding any debris that landed on the road. (Your Name) looked out the car window. She tried to see if she could see the tornado anywhere, but it was so foggy and the rain and hail obscured her vision. She placed a hand on the window as she squinted to try to see.

“Oh my God! Jake, look out!”

Sarah and Liam's screams got (Your Name)’s attention and she turned back to the road.

A giant tree branch had fallen onto the road.

Jake tried to avoid it, but it came so fast, and there was no time to swerve out of the way.

The branch got underneath the truck, catching the tires and tripping it, sending it flying into the air. The four friends screamed as the truck started to tumble across the road.

(Your Name) suddenly felt airborne, and her body collided with the car window, shattering the glass. She was thrown out of the car and tumbled into the fields. She hit her head on the ground, and everything went black.

With a gasp, (Your Name) opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry for a moment but readjusted after a couple of seconds. She felt pain in her head as she very slowly sat up.

She got on her hands and knees and slowly stood fully up. She groaned as she felt her head spin, her vision blurring a little again.

Once her eyesight readjusted again, she saw it.

It looked like a bomb had gone off.

The damage. The destruction. Everything was in ruin. Any trees that could've been nearby were uprooted and splintered into pieces all over the ground. Their branches, some small, some big, were everywhere. A wide path was carved into the ground, showing the tornado’s path.

Then, she remembered.

Her friends.

“Jake? Sarah? Liam?”

She called out their names as she slowly walked around the area, being careful of any obstacles that were in her path.

The more she searched, the more worried she got.

“Liam! Jake! Sarah!”

Then, she saw it.

The car they drove in… it was heavily damaged. Some parts were torn off from the strong winds of the twister. But what made (Your Name)’s heart clench in horror was the splashes of blood inside the car and on the broken windows.

Her body started to shake as her anxiety skyrocketed. Her breathing became labored and shaky.

“No… no. Sarah…. Liam….. Jake.”

She stood there in the expansive damage, tears in her eyes as her world came crashing down; as the sounds of a police siren approached her.

[embrosegraves]

𝕊𝕚𝕥 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕄𝕖

(request) Sebastian Vettel x Reader  The reader just wants to spend time with their boyfriend  Cuddles! Lots of them!

Warnings: None! I love these fluffy requests so much omg

It wasn’t often that Sebastian was home for the week. Usually during the mid year break you would both go for a holiday in some other country, and during the end of year break you would be spending only a few weeks in Switzerland before going to England so that he could be closer to Aston Martin’s HQ. This was the routine ever since you and Seb had started dating during his RedBull days.

If there was ever any down time between races, you insisted on going straight to where the next race was being hosted, no matter how long it was until the next race, because you liked being organised and Seb just liked making you happy. 

It was mid January and you had both gotten to England only three days ago. Seb had been in his office for at least far too many hours today and while you were fine on your own, you wanted to spend some of your time with him before his schedule would pick up for the year. 

Quietly peeking your head through his office door, you called out for his attention. 

“Sebby?” you whispered. 

He looked up from the desk and smiled when he saw you. He always smiled when he looked at you. You were his favourite thing to look at. 

“Yes, Liebe?” 

You loved it when he used sweet pet names with you. Especially when they were in his mother tongue. They made you feel extra special. 

“Can I spend some time in here? I just want to be around you for a bit.” 

If anyone were to ask you what you thought was the one thing that kept your relationship as strong as it was, you would tell them that the best thing you both had done for your relationship was being completely honest with each other. You had agreed pretty early on that you would always speak your mind to the other person so that there was no chance of things being miscommunicated. It was your biggest peeve in your previous relationship and you would always thank the stars that Sebastian had agreed on the unnecessity of being vague with a romantic partner. 

“Of course, Blume. I would be delighted with your company.” 

Sebastian prided himself on always making himself available for you. He never wanted you to feel like you were second fiddle to his racing career. If his schedule was jam packed with things to do, he would go out of his way to spend at least an hour of his day with you. An hour that was not allocated to sleeping or waking up. 

He watched as you quietly entered the room, even though there was no need to be quiet. Seeing you look around the room for somewhere to put yourself while he worked, an idea came to his head. 

“C’mere, you can sit on my lap until I’m done.” He held his hand out for you to grab as you came around the side of his desk. You would never give up an opportunity to sit with him. 

Pushing the chair back so you could sit down, he guided you to sit facing him, with your legs on either side of his. Once you were comfortable, you wrapped your arms around his waist and nuzzled your head into his neck. As you settled he gave a kiss to your head before scooting back towards his desk, one hand rubbing your back and the other flipping pages of development data for him to read over before he went to HQ in the morning. 

You spent 2 hours like this just enjoying the close proximity and presence of your lover. These were the times you treasured the most. It didn’t matter that Seb’s legs had fallen asleep 30 minutes in, and it didn’t matter that your arms were a little sore between his back and the chair. What mattered was spending time with each other. 

What mattered was the fact that no matter how hectic the rest of the year got, you would always have a place to rest on Sebastian’s lap.

I'm actually so in love with this because it's just so simple, yet so?? Cute? Adorable? Am I just naming synonyms?? Anyway, It's a little shorter that what I've posted previously but I wanted to keep it sweet and simple.

I hope you all enjoyed and are having a wonderful holiday season!

requests, likes and reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated xx

[malinowaj]

2024 fandom review

thank you for the tag @nerdyfangirl76 and @almostlake 💜

warning: this got really long

fics written

in 2024, i posted 3 finished fics and one currently on-going WIP. in total that was 122,542 words and i keep looking at that number in complete disbelief.

i started the year by saying, multiple times, i'm not going to write anything because it's been nearly a decade since i wrote for fun. then i had an idea and was all "well, maybe if i wrote this one short thing, posted it and then dipped never to be seen again". insert my friend laughing at me at regular intervals because we all know that's not what happened.

always losing to win is very dear to me, for several reasons, and it'll never stop blowing my mind how many people have read it and been on that journey with me.

fics read

my AO3 history is about 300 fics, but i did not sort out my logins until months into the year, so the actual number is probably somewhere closer to 350.

i tried to pick a few favourite fics i read and limiting myself to just these is hard. i regret to say none of these have received the praise, comments and love from me that they deserve, because it took me months to get over my comment shyness. but i hope this makes up for it a bit. (new year's resolution: more comments for everyone.) in alphabetical order by title:

almost is never enough by @in-amor-veritas

there's a scene in this with kent's 747 that i have the strongest, plot-wise most insignificant headcanon about and i think about it every time i hear the song. which is often. and then i end up thinking about the whole story.

another dose by stargazers

it's such a beautiful version of wilmon, because it's so them. and it's hot.

chasing our sunlight by fitz_y

if there ever was a fic that lives rent free in my head, it's this. the way it deals with so many heavy topics has made me cry, but it's such an incredibly crafted story i come back to it often.

forever i'm yours by @goldenwilmon

the way the fall in love in this one? hands down one of my favourites ever. whenever i need some fluff and happiness in my life, this is the one i go for.

little light by @unfortunate17

possibly one of the first, if not the first, wilmon fic i read in 2024. it broke something in me, but also healed something in me.

reckless abandon by @zee-has-commitment-issues

i absolutely love the concept and the way all the characters are so well-rounded. one of the fics i could not stop reading and can't wait to read again.

so loaded, eye low by @enjoythesilentworld

the chemistry, the angst. the sweet, delicious angst. and hot as hell.

where be left off by @gulliblelemon

the best way for me to fight some physical pain? some emotional pain. and this one has it, in the best, most beautiful way. very few fics have i devoured like i did this one.

the wolf comes home by @phneltwrites

after months, i still keep thinking about a particular line in this one. the trauma aftermath, the way they deal with it. also my favourite established relationship wilmon.

looking forward to in 2025

i can't wait to read and see all the amazing fics and gifs and edits and everything this fandom comes up with. i already know there'll be so many wonderful things i'll enjoy.

as for my own writing, i'm trying to get a good chunk of hope and legacy written before the insanity that'll be my life from late january to the end of february. (no context chapter 4 spoiler: simon steals a flag.)

there is also in from the cold, the espionage AU i have about 10K written for - and that's barely the beginning. i don't know if it'll ever see the light of day, but i do love the concept and all the research i've done for it.

i have been thinking about space wilmon lately, and while i said i'm not going to go down that road myself, i did remember a few lines from record of a spaceborn few that may have sparked an idea. it might become something one day, or it might never be more than the few disjointed lines and ideas i have typed in my notes.

there's also a file with a list of songs that i might want to build stories around. in general i have a lot of ideas, but very few of them might become anything. i'd like to put it down as "english is not my first language so writing is slow" thing, and while it is that too, it's mostly me being a perfectionist and not able to let go. (which is why i should probably have a beta telling me 'this is fine, go post it'. if anyone feels up for doing that...)

the biggest, warmest thank you to everyone who's read anything i've written, left kudos or comments, sent messages, in any way engaged. it has made my year, and this fandom experience so special 💜

not tagging anyone, but if any of the authors i mentioned haven't done this yet and would like to, i'd love to read your reviews.