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princessesqcue · 6 months ago

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Man In Suits

(Salesman x female!reader)

Summary:: you come across a stranger twice before agreeing to a game , you win big but what of the losses you take at unclarified stakes

warnings ! age gap ,stalking ,manipulation,mentions of married saleman ,detailed smut scenes, violence , there's more to come so i will edit this part<3

MNDI!

Part 2

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

He is a nameless man but he knows you, he did his homework and so he knows all there is to know of you

YN LN

Age 22

Born to immigrant parents with no form of recorded identification, well you technically do but for an adult you are a pathetic case , stuck in a foreign country without a penny to your name, not a polite plan but your useless parents love you , right YN?

no?

Well then , you're fucked

It honestly doesn't matter because you are easily just another piece of disposable trash, a useless gullible thing and a walking target for all that could eat alive a weak thing as yourself but you might have had the angel of luck on your shoulder to have stood in that same store as him on that damned day

it was just something about you , you had too much potential, in fact you were so pathetic he could see you in the game uniform the moment he laid eyes on you , way before even knowing your name but he is and always has been a meticulous character so he stood, patiently, kept his face from recoiling as you nearly got on your knees to beg for the vacant position in a disgusting store without a clue that he was cracking his neck to slap the lights out of the store owner right behind that counter

Is this all you can get for yourself

he judged harshly with a sense of superiority as he observed you already making you a mental profile

He wonders if you even took time to research this sorry excuse of a store in all your desperate glory ,did you know of the two male companions that assisted this sleaze behind the counter in keeping the store dead as it was ,did you know that they could be far worse than the slimy pig who is just dying to fuck you, he tugs at your arm to let out with an even slimier tone

"I will call you on Monday, I promise"

and he winks

that was it ,all it took for you to leave your number there on a piece of paper

he isn't even looking for the fractures in humanity at this point and just like all the people who end up in that dumpsters , you too look like a victim of your own choices ,like trying to mix yourself with low lives who don't even try to hide the fact that they are salivating at the mounds of flesh that spill from the top of your dress

that is where he draws the line between himself and humans , humans like you and them , he is not rooted in excess and somewhere at the core of his values he really believes that his innate human desires do not control him

you have some tricks up your sleeves he will give you that , you really had not notice him stood behind you this entire time and like the user you are you turned to face him , a scowl taking over your features as you bump into him , you take a good look at him ,

Crisp suit and not a hair out of place, he looks put together , far handsome than any man in this hell hole but the briefcase in his hand makes you want to scoff for this particular part of town and you conclude that the man is probably another pretentious bastard who belongs right where he's shopping ,staring for a second before you are pulled back to reality by the sound of your potential boss' voice telling you to make room for the customer making you mutter a simple sorry as you brush past the man whose face is housing a faux smile

Cold eyes that give nothing at all staying glued to yours , your face and never below your chin , that was easily a new with a man , especially in this part of town but then again he could just be a Jehovah's witness , those can be fun to mind fuck

you sway your hips in a hypnotic manner feeling the store owners eyes on you all the way through that exit , you were pathetic yes , not dumb...you knew that you were never going to get hired and if he called you back he would just be looking to get his dick wet

the patient man ,stood in his suit staring dead into the eyes of the man behind the counter with that faux smile that never meets his eyes, he lays flat a greeting to the man across him commanding the man's attention and when his eyes fall on the man in front of him it takes him a moment to respond but suited man with his practiced smile lays an offer just as the slimy man parts an inch of his mouth to speak

"Would you be interested in playing a game with me ?"

"What..." he scoffs as he puffs out his chest and gives an insulting look that could easily match his follow up words

"sir , a game ?...-''he lays his hand on the surface counter and laughs slightly ridiculed ''do you think this place runs on ''games '', mmhm? whatever makes you think i have the time to play some stu-''

''Seo Davis,''the salesman smiles bringing the man to a halt for a second , he watches him intently and waits for him to get ready to speak again and just like those games he enjoys so well , as the guy opens is mouth to speak the suited man speaks ''age :42 ,You're drowning in debt... 2.3 million total with 70 percent of your store losses going to the loan sharks ,and that is not even a brink of your financial problems Mr Seo, Creditors are circling, waiting to pounce.., but ten again by the time they get here this place will be a shell of what it never was -'' he quirks an eyebrow ''you know why? You're already so desperate, paranoid and defensive...'' he laid down his briefcase , clicking it open to the man's eyes '' You'll do whatever it takes to survive''

he can already see it in the man's eyes , the greed unhinged ''So, Mr. Seo, tell me... Are you ready to play a new game? One where the stakes are high, but the rewards are higher?'' with a gulp from the man , he picks the red envelope and the quiet store had for the first time in a while the loudest blend between ddakji slaps and the suited man's firm hand making contact with the store owner's face .

That was a month ago

you never got that call back .

over the course of that and this month you could feel the joys you had for life slip out of you as you sat through another gathering with your moter and the company of friends she kept , you had become another conversation , pitied and reduced to what your peers earned that you didn't , to your beautiful body that didn't necessarily go with your face , to your pickiness that left you single and unmarried for the rest of your life

you hid well , behind scowls and smart emarks back to your critiques but that night you felt crazy , your nails digging into your arm to draw blood and silence the mind , he had to admit , it wasn't easy to track down a person whose last records dated back to when they were just eleven years old , that was when your passport expired and you were still here

stuck in a country that gives you nothing at all

he had no choice but to find you , follow you around , you weren't that hard to tail once he abandoned finding you by the system , he could have found someone to track you for him but he was also always a perfectionist , preffering a certain degree of dilligence , if ou were going to end up in that dumpster he needed to verify that you were truly worthy of the title of honorary trash and that is how his research began , only three days after that store encounter

he had to work a little overtime and even then following you around had come to be the easiest routine he ever had to follow even though it at the cost of his personal fun time usually scheduled at local homeless parks , he didn't mind given thhat so far you hadn't come around dissapointing him

you had been so good for him , so easy to watch in a manner that your routines albeit random became of solace to him to watch you about in your wasted days

he could only trust that you would continue to do right by him and agree him to at least one game because even if you personally don't subscribe to any debt you still suffer the consequences of your parents incompetence

he knows that you know of their pending debts because you still go around getting slapped on the wrist with every chance you manage to drag your pathetic self out of bed , you are a defeated little mess and none of the burdens you carry on your shoulders are really yours , the game didn't discriminate

he studied you to be left with just another predictable case on his hands , he was right about you , he was confident in your potential but he drags a nervous breath as he stalks towards your slumped form in that train station's silver bench, crying

you were crying, good . he wonders if you'd look him in the eyes at least once , he had yet to see your eyes bloodshot and all watery , God , he needs to get a grip

,you don't see him coming , you only look to your left to see a familiar unsettling faux smile of a stranger you couldn't care less of , his signature sly smile reflecting back to you your vulnerability and desperation that he is about to exploit ,despite your attempts to protect yourself with a tough exterior you are surprisingly oblivious to the dangers that linger around you ,him included

he knows he has gotten you when you let that ounce of recognition keep you rooted in your seat with the escape of a sigh that leaves your chapping lipd

"hello miss-''

"No-no-no , I don't want jesus christ , infact if you come across him tell him that I don't want eternal life , I would hate to do this again , let alone forever''

you take a deep breath , closing your eyes briefly after you little melt down

he couldn't care less, you already strike him as an abrupt little thing , your vulnerability does that for you , you are simply defensive , if he had been here for the reasons your impulses accuse of him maybe he would have had to persist harder but then again he has so much better for you , his faux smile deepening as he questions

''are you okay?''

you divert your eyes from him looking at your hands that tremble slightly , he doesn't really like to waste his time but he dangles a tissue in font of you , this one is from the kindness of his heart and he gives you the time to collect yourself before laying out the big apple in that low smooth tone that should aid you in trusting him

"would you like to take a break from your worries and play a little game with me ? ''

''game?''

the briefcase clicks open the same time as you whip your head towards him ,a briefcase you have held at such harsh judgements laid open before you , a neatly organised compartment consisting of two square , envelopes? blue and red , cash , loads of cash...you should be excited , intrigued at the sight of the cash but just below it stares back at you a revolver , loud and shiny

when your glossy eyes go to meet the suit man your nose unintentionally scrunches at that casual smile of his , unsettling as ever as he speaks ''you could win really big and do away with your family debt in just three games , Miss YN-shii'' the man operates at such a natural robotic pace which just poses another blazing red flag in your interaction ,you know better than to indulge this stranger , nothing of him calls you to trust him but it's at the back of your mind that he made use of your name when he lays open between you two that briefcase of his , you proceed to ask gulping hard at the stacks of cash

''what kind of game?''

he smiles smugly holding two colored envelopes between his nimble fingers

''amongst these two envelopes , one contain the precise amount of the money owed by your parents and the other contains a penalty ,which one do you choose Miss YN?''

I haven't agreed to playing yet-

the thought is far from finished when he notes to you that time is ticking and you fold so sweetly under pressure , the meek little thing you are , ocd and eager to please would be caught dead before ever missing a deadline let alone disappoint anyone at all and so the salesman pouts

you are impulsive under pressure , you note as your hand flies to the blue envelope , it's bright that's your humble reason as the man's eyebrow shoots up , unreadable prompting a sight out of you as you await promised penalty while he opens the envelope

''oh -"

"what's the penalty " you ask voice barely above a whisper

the man's smile grows wider as he reveals to you a small paper that has you rolling your eyes

"Seems like you have won temporary reprieve Miss Yn, penalty has been reprieved...for now, you are left with two chances "

the envelopes change and you pick again, blue again and you honestly don't know what you are still doing here but perhaps you are at your wits end with all the doors shut to your face, you throw caution to the wind as you recall being rejected at a local strip club , they were blunt telling you that you were not what the locals pay to see , you scoffed and you have zoned out

The mans face turns serious and, you look angry , almost missing out on the fact that you won

"Congratulations Miss Yn ," in your face is a card written exactly 800k won and a bank card attached at the back, there is a crease in your eyebrows , questions swim there, doubt and suspicion too

"how do I know that you are mot just bullshitting me , what if none of this works?"

he slides a card towards you , triangle, circle, square and a phone number printed on the back

It's strange, too easy and you don't believe in angels or easy luck not for you, especially not for you of all people

"I give you 24 hours to bask in your victory Miss Yn, the details of your penalty remain on hold until then"

you are confused , cat really got your tongue and you stay puzzled even as the man bids you farewell

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ + _ _ _ _ _ _ + _ _ _ _ _ +-------+_ _ _ _+-------+_ _ _ _ _

you had clutched tight the envelope from the strange man for the rest of that night , barely slept a wink looking him up on the internet , it had started with the card of shaped symbols which lead you to preschool stuff , you so badly wanted to believe that maybe he was a preschool teacher but your wide awake senses rejected the idea so greatly your nose bled at 2am in the darkness

, you tried with the number as you further spiraled into desperation....NOTHING. When the morning came your feet carried you back to that train station , you occupied the very same seat as you had that day , you waited before you were seeking him , trails that lead you back to that store , or what you think to once have been a store , ashes and broken glass residing there, you seeked your surroundings for a strange yet familiar face until a part of you is convinced that he is just a fragment of your imagination , a byproduct of the immense stress and disappointment of you daily life

you wander and wander until you are stood in front of an atm , fucking around to find out , and find out you did.

your father's bank balance reflected back at you sums and amounts you would never even dream of ,800k as the man had said and you still couldn't believe it.

you could have just enjoyed it but you wanted the catch , a fault , anything to tell you that you were deluded,

you went home , you often thought about what you'd say you to your parents who sheltered you with all they could manage as you entered the threshold of your home , a tought that goes away as soon as you meet the joyed expression of your father who is somehow confident that he won a quarter of the lottery , he wasn't far off as it all felt surreal only , as he showed you a dramatic text from an unsaved contact

congratulations mr LN on your lottery win of 800k , your victory has been deposited into your account , enjoy~!!

you felt scared , you wondered if you had been baited to some illegal scheme that could lend not you but your father in prison

you prayed not as you went from confused to making excuses to deciding that you needed to contact the suit man , you dialed quickly the number on the card , it rang before a feminine voice greeted on the other side "hello, who's this?"

the crease of your eyebrows could only get deeper as you frowned

"Hello , may I please talk to the man...''you cringed at your tone and the ridiculousness of the situation , the realisation that you didn't even know his name ,''he wears suits and carries around a briefcase-" beep

the line disconnects before you are done and you try the call again, double checking each digit before pressing call , this time the woman get's to talk before you do

"I will pull your tongue out and wrap it around your neck until you die if you ever call my husband again.''

she didn't even wait for your response before cutting off the line

third time is a charm , you seem to be blocked as you are immediately rejected before calling it a day , not entirely though given that your desperation was venturing on the lines of paranoia ,it was a joyful day in your home , your father still convinced that he won the lottery which meant that you got no thanks at all for your efforts , not to be mistaken , you appreciated the heat of having to explain yourself or the mysterious money being removed off your shoulders but a teeny tiny list of reasons overwhelm you , for starters...was it a coincidence that the money had gotten to your father as a simple run into the luck of lottery, your efforts entirely discarded , you technically didn't have to do much for the money which is what posses the biggest threat to you right now , despite wanting to tell yourself that you won this money fair and square the rationed part of yourself cannot simply accept that life would just be so...giving? to you of all people...what was all tat about a pending penalty?

it's nearly 24hrs since you last came across that man,' would he have shown up if you hadn't gone to the bank ?

a lot of things were unclear as you laid awake for the second night in a row ,you needed answers that the chat assistant in your pocket could not answer , and so you slipped on your pair of slippers , you just wanted to clear your head and that path lead you to the opposite end of the subway from where you sat yesterday , even at these late hours exhausted people occupy the place , probably people with jobs to return from, you wonder if some may even be going to thier jobs and somewhere between your thoughts you get lost, your fingers becoming the object of your focus on your lap amidst the quiet noise of a busy station

you are strangely calmed by the waves of trains and the chaos of your mind is muted until the waves are blending with something else , clapping?

You lift up your eyes and you don't have to search far because right across you through the windows of a train stands a confident suited man who throws a familiar red envelope to the ground, you quickly realise that he is flipping the blue envelope on the ground before proceeding to slap the man across him, hard and fast

It's natural that your eyebrows crease as the man is handed some cash before the suit man is leaving up the stairs

you are even more skeptical of him but you still run after him as soon as the train departs and you risk your life with the hopes of possibly getting some questions answered

It's not really a surprise by the time you reach the stairs there is absolutely no one but you keep going, in your head you think you will just run into him and the idea makes your palms sweaty. The man carries a gun, he slaps people and.. -he's turning a corner down the sketchy passage

every part of you, rational is screaming at you but your feet still work very fine so you jog after him, he must have impaired hearing because you heave painfully and your slippers basically slap the ground beneath your feet loud enough to reach him, as you reach the corner you scan briefly before he's right there, he suddenly appears in front of you under the flickering exhausted lights and the familiar scent of his expensive cologne overwhelms your senses

at the first eye contact you make with the man you bow your head , contemplating your decision to case after him , you hadn't even prepared a what you would say to him and now all your senses were screaming at you to turn back

you have to talk yourself into staying rooted as he takes slow steps towards you ,the distance between you two is becoming smaller by the minute and you are actually getting scared because because the summer rain hits you without warning and his faux smile is nowhere to be seen tonight in place of his faux smile is a darkness occupying his eyes

you don't know if it could save your life but you bow and issue out a greeting

he does take a halt ,right in front of you , you are preparing your next words when he reaches for your cheek ,eyes deep and set on yours as he slowly backs you against the wall , the pad of his thumb caresses the area and you are highly aware of him and everything around him

you wonder if you look as brave as you intend to present to te man in front of you getting on your tippy toes to glance behind him and letting the fact that it's only the two of you here sink just as you decide that you are allergic to silence , the one he is presenting to you anyway

"do you live around here , ajushi?'' you continue to avoid his eyes looking around the area just to distract yourself from the fear bubbling beneath the surface

"I don't''

he doesn't beat around the bush as he pops out the biggest question

"why are you following me? YN"

the hand on your cheek trails slowly down until i's at your neck where his rough thumb massages in meditated motions on the column of your throat ,

''I wasn't-'' the hold on your neck turns not so gentle yet not enough to disrupt your breathing pattern , it's a warning just as the words that follow up

''I have an idea , you answer my questions , for every answer that I don't like i add pressure to your precious little neck

-with that , be mindful of what you answer miss yn, '' he loosens his hold slightly finally flashing you a formal smile , nowhere near friendly even with his full set of teeth on display

''so Miss YN , have you been following me?"

his eyebrows shoot up in an expression that makes you think for a second that he is actually adorable , only the hand on your neck makes you start talking

"'I tried to call you ,on the number you gave me but a woman answered and told me that I would be dead if I ever called her husband again"

he hums just as his hand tightens , you can for a second taste the faux courage exit you system as you try to gulp down the sheer panic bubbling up

he shakes his hand side to side ''that just won't do YN-

why are you following me ?''

''I wanted to thank you , my father recieved the money but I couldn't find you anywhere so I went to the train station for some air and then i saw you- you can't stop there ,he is so close to cutting your air flow

''I wanted to talk to you and ask about the penalty and why my father is convinced that he won the lottery , you walked too fast and I couldn't call you so I ran , I didn't mean to follow you''

you did it again , your frustrated meltdown thing and now you were crying , he should feel sympathy

but fuck you look far better than he imagined you would with your eyes all watery ,he's pushing and at the sight of your hands shooting up to where he clutches your neck adding pressure by the passing second you become quite aware of the nearest news headline

"woman , 22 found in the nearest ditch-''

"would you like to come with me or return home to live in the devastating shadow of the peanuts that your brother earns , hmm YN?''

he let's go of you and you cough violently shooting a glare in his direction as he reaches a hand towards your face swiping a tear before sucking the section of the thumb

you shake your head no and you expect him to be...well.. himself about the matter but he simply turns away to leave you in the pouring rain teeth chattering , you are not even sure where you are so you do the next dumbest thing , block his path

"t-t-take me - with you''.

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yaseraphine · 7 months ago

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2024, the year I lost my crown.

Pluto in aquarius / Sun / Ego / Leo stellium / Ego death / Karma

I will say it loudly and proudly : In 2024, I entered my flop era (and it set me free)

This post will sum up the major lessons I learned this year through the prism of astrology.

INTRODUCTION - This post is a post I was looking forward to sharing for a while. 2024 seemed to have been a crazy year for a lot of people. Mine could be summed up by “emotional release” or the release of a karmic emotional cycle as well as connecting with my inner child. This year was charged with deep epiphanies about my childhood, which I realized I romanticized and erased key moments from my memory. Realizations came in waves always accompanied with the identification of intense deep seated insecurities and fears that stemmed from my childhood and the way I was nurtured. All of those intense and hidden emotions bubbling up to the surface together made this year really emotionnally charged with negative emotions. This eventually unwillingly forced me to neglect superficial aspects of life, such as appearance and charisma. I was slow, insecure, tired all the time, felt like sh*t all the time, lost drive. You could say that, basically, in chronically online terms, In 2024, I just entered my flop era.

This made me realize the extent of our society's obsession with glowing up, being the best version of ourselves at all times, pushing ourselves out of our comfort zone. Entering our so-called “bad bitch” era, focusing on self-care, being the best, having people admiring us, standing out, being that b, making people do a double take on us,etc... Most of our life is spent relentlessly trying to be unique, appearing at the top of our game. We always aspire and desire to appear and seem , but we never just are.

Capitalism has its ways of trapping us into a vicious cycle of superficial constant change and improvement. Like it creates new problems to solve for the mere goal of selling a new product to us, it creates a weird transactional and selfish sense of self, where we almost aspire to be alienated from the community and stand out.

I decided to share this post as a reminder, in the sea of “how to glow up in 2025” videos and posts, that, sometimes, divine timing has its ways and it prevents us from shining the way we want to. Not every year is a year to glow up, you cannot be at the top of your game all the time. Like during the reign of a Queen or King, your empire will have an apogee, but also a decline. Your power and influence over your empire will always fluctuate, and you will only get probably one period of apogee, followed by a pretty intense empire decline. Despite going through all of this, something will always remain and that is faith. The faith you have in yourself, in the future, maybe even in God or a Higher Power. The faith that is deep inside yourself and that guides and helps you to push through even if you’re at your lowest.

This issue behind this obsession with “glowing up”, and all the external validation that comes with it and avoiding “flopping” at all costs, is what led me to go insane and completely give up this year.

Start of college : a beautifully humbling experience

-> from the top grader to a “mid” grader, an average student

-> highly political place

-> Politicians and rulers : ruled by Leo BUT political parties, independent parties, ideology : ruled by Aquarius

-> I started to not only take interest in my own endeavors but also the country’s / humanity’s condition

-> I attended riots and protests multiple times, even during exams seasons

-> I assisted to GM’s hosted by students there to protect students’ rights but also for Gaza (GMs = General Meetings)

-> I read books about feminism, learned about communism and just politics in general

-> Unlearned a lot of myths surrounding the working class, rape culture, cultural appropriation, ..

-> Made new friends quite different from the ones I had in High school > anarchists, feminists, really woke people.

Why did all those changes occur ?

SR Chart of the year 2023-24 : North Node in the 11th house > letting go of ego and individuality to embrace community

Lilith in the 9th house transit : with all this new knowledge, I literally felt like my brain was being rewired. All the old thought patterns and life limiting beliefs I have been clinging to all chattered, bits per bits. Of course, I started that shadow work way before I got that Transit HOWEVER this transit did boost the process of getting rid of those limiting beliefs.

Gemini rising > my 7th house sign, my shadow, was my rising that year. I have to say the year prior to this year prepared me REALLY well to deal with it since, that year, I became friends and hung out with a bunch of people with gemini stelliums (i genuinely don't know how I survived tbh)

North node return -> events that pushed me to get out of my comfort zone

Chiron in the 9th house transit : my natural ability and talent to think abstractly got tested by this transit. The more theory I learned, the foggier my mind got. I kind of felt like the more times passed, the dumber I got. Which, I know, sounds crazy. But my comfort zone of having philosophical thoughts, disconnecting from my direct environment, this sagittarian hyper-independence (and ego..) became uncomfortable to embody and I felt a sense of loss every time I was ought to have abstract ideas and see the bigger picture. My natural intellectual talents “decreased” and I had no choice but to ask for help and interact with other students to understand certain concepts (so becoming the student even though it’s not comfortable to me). Along with my North node return in the 3rd house (my natal placement), this pushed me to trust other people’s knowledge and experience and learn from them. To show up daily, interact with people from all walks of life and not think to myself before doing so that “there is no point anyway to talk to them it’s useless/ a waste of time / we’re too different” or whatever bullshit excuses my ego would create to prevent myself from socialising

"Let them eat cake"

My obsessive desire to be perfect and to handle everything by myself got too far. I wanted to look my best every single day, but, by the second semester I just couldn't keep up. My timetable was heavier, my classes less interesting and even harder. But, what truly pushed me, or more so forced me to change, was my final exams results of the first semester. In high school, I did not have to study much to excel. To be a top grader, better than everyone else was easy for me, it was a routine. I was never surprised by my grades because I knew I topped as usual. However, going with this mentality/ belief for those exams was what slapped me right back to reality. My grades were bad. When I saw them, my heart shrinked, I was completely shocked. I did not expect much to be fair, but I thought it was going to be okay. Oh boy, it clearly WASN’T. And what made it worse was the people around me, who did not seem to take school as seriously, who consistently skipped classes, who cheated and lied for homework. These people, these people that I consistently judged as immoral, those people that I despised so much , THOSE, they got better grades than me. This made me go CRAZY. I cried for days on end, I couldn’t go to classes because of how badly I felt. This was the final straw for me : what is the point of being such a straight, invested person who came to classes even when I was sick, who always looked clean and hydrated. A perfect student with a perfect attitude. An independent student who helped her classmates. A perfect student who gets exploited by a system where cheaters and liars pass just as well, if not better, and get complimented as much. I realized how much pent up rage I had inside of me. I wasn’t just sad or disappointed, I was deeply disgusted.

Leo stellium, Sun in Cancer conjunct Saturn, Pluto and Chiron in the first house and 9th house south node : unrealistic standards, lack mindset, low self-confidence, strong ego , scared of being bad at something, of being the worst, self-loathing, “there is no point in doing that anyway” , “i am not like them anyway there’s no need for me to go to this event” :

As someone with a Leo stellium, I never realized how strict I was to myself. Only people around me could see it, but, because of how headstrong I am, I thought they just didn’t have enough standards. The thing is, I couldn’t see how perfect a lot of things in my life were because I was only fixated on what I lacked. I only focused on the defaults, the problems, the parts I wasn’t good enough in. And even the vocal and direct feedback of people wasn’t enough for me to believe I was just fine, maybe even great. And while I always focused on the parts I have failed in, I also had this unrealistic expectation that I needed to have a neutral, linear emotional life. In my head, it was like : I had a period/ period of emotional disturbances now I cannot have one again, or at least not as intense. It’s simply impossible. Now I used all my “jokers”, cards , I have no choice but to only go higher. This strange way of thinking was what made me only put positive/confident songs on my spotify playlists and avoid any songs that expressed “negative” emotions, outside of anger and rebellion. You could say it's a good thing in a way because I did my best to lift my head up. I knew how music affected my mood so I adapted my playlists accordingly. The thing is, whenever I was feeling anything other than confidence or anger, I did everything in my power to dismiss it. I obsessed over avoiding feeling low because in that state, no one will like me. People will see me in a vulnerable state and it’s too embarrassing. People have to admire me, compliment me, heck just like me at least. But if I’m not on top of my game, they will realize I am like them. I am part of the “plebs”. I have to be a queen, a princess, not a goddamn peasant! (really harsh wording, I know, but it felt like that looking back). I can’t. I just can’t. ... Unfortunately, trying to desesperately keep up with my reponsabilities as a Queen, not caring much for people as they were mere peasants who had nothing to do with me, is what led me right into my empire's decline.. Up in my fragile papermade castle, seating on my throne, I truly always felt so lonely...

The last straw : getting rid of the lion’s mane

I shaved my head. Crazy but I did. By myself. A monday afternoon, 3 days before halloween. Right in the middle of the sinister season of the Scorpio : I shaved my head. I shaved my long, luscious and golden curly hair. This mane that held all those limiting beliefs and toxic standards. My hair was my signature look, one of the first things people noticed about me. One of the first things people complimented me about. “Look at those beautiful curly hair ! I wish I had hair like you!” “They look so healthy omg!”. All this external validation was like a drug to me, therefore, I never DARED to even trim it. Yeah. Looking back, I was crazy for that.

Sr for the year 2024-25 + Pluto in Capricorn last turn around : my experience

SR Chart 2024-25 : Virgo rising with the chart ruler Mercury in Leo in the 12th house.

Pretty gloomy and bleak period. I was feeling quite depressed to be fully honest. I started the new school year with every symptoms of depression, exept the su*c*dal thoughts. I was slow, my body was heavier yet I lost weight. I moved slower, thought slower, slept more, was always tired, taking a shower, doing the dishes, eating and every other simple daily task was a burden, harder than usual. My solar leonine energy, my vitality all disappeared without me realizing it. I had low self confidence, didn’t get ready in the morning, and stopped feeling any sense of pleasure. I was empty, crying on the train to my campus. The last time I felt like this, it was in 2018, I was 13, depressed and entering the darkest phase of my Dark Night of the Soul.

Guess what, I am Not A Robot

You've been acting awful tough lately

Smoking a lot of cigarettes lately

But inside you're just a little baby, oh

It's okay to say you've got a weak spot

You don't always have to be on top

Better to be hated than loved, loved, loved

For what you're not

You're vulnerable, you're vulnerable

You are not a robot

You're lovable, so lovable

But you're just troubled

Guess what? I'm not a robot, a robot

Once again, I had no other way but to ask for help. I went to see a doctor after years of avoiding it. I confessed a lot of things to my mom with whom I always had/have a really distant and tense relationship. Our conversations were really eye opening for the both of us. I went to see a therapist, and I am still looking for one. I didn’t have enough energy to attend class (I live 1h15/1H30 away from my campus.. so my 8 am classes were awful, especially since not attending is a risk to failing in that subject.. I was in a really problematic period.) But, I met a friend, an Aquarius sun and rising student who helped me throughout all of this. She was the contrary of me in many ways : really social, open and relied on other people. easily opened up to others. She didn’t have those perfectionistic obsessive thoughts. She trusted people, had a bunch of friends, and didn't overthink every single one of her interactions. She quickly became the air that tempered down my fire, which was burning myself out. My ego was killing me and my body (symptoms of depression) was warning me. I couldn’t control these feelings. I hadn't felt that depressed in a while. Like the type of depression that makes you stare at the wall in the morning, struggling to get out of bed.I thought it was behind me. I thought I was better than this. I thought “yes other people have depressions and struggle on a daily basis because of it and that’s okay but me ? I am over it. I had one at the beginning of my teenagehood. Now it can’t happen again, at least not actual depression.” But no, unfortunately for me, It did indeed happen. This showed me I was vulnerable, like every human being. I wasn’t immune to failing, to lose, to being bad, to being average, to needing help. I was simply a human being. I wasn’t a superior entity, a god flying above the rest of humanity. I was just like them. Was I considered a bit weird for liking astrology, tarot and for listening to kpop ? Was I considered a bit weird for having Halloween as my favourite holiday ? Was I a bit edgy and had a certain sensitivity to anything grotesque, deadly, macabre, taboo ? Yes, I was all of that. But I am still a human being. I am just like other people in many ways, and even if I have more quirks than the average person It shouldn’t stop me from socialising. I need people and people need me, and, honestly, that is totally fine. Connecting with others is beautiful. People are here to help each other and share their experiences. That is the most beautiful part of existence : everyday frivolous conversations with people, interacting with them, exchanging ideas, sharing our daily frustrations and struggles, laughing. All of that is the simplicity I never expected I needed so badly. On the quest of finding this truth, I went faraway in the abstract realm of ideas only to realize that this truth was right in front of me since the beginning.

Life really wasn't as complicated as I made it to be.

A song that sums up this overall energy

Fear and Loathing - MARINA : "I'm done with tryin' to have it all and endin' up with not much at all"

Marina called Fear and Loathing a turning point in her life, after which she stopped being a "bitter person" and began to work with new people and try new things, even though she wrote the song alone in her bedroom in London. She placed the track last on Electra Heart because she views it as a "letting go" song.

In this process of losing myself, I am gaining something precious and that is the construction of a true authentic self-confidence. Not one that is out of fear : out of fear of being perceived like a loser, a compulsive fear of being like my 12 year old self, a scared and terrified pre-teen who hated herself, from the way she looked to her personality and non-existent talents.

I am finally starting to cultivate something solid, something that comes from a deep sense of self.

[Verse 1]

I've lived a lot of different lives

Been different people many times

I live my life in bitterness

And fill my heart with emptiness

And now I see, I see it for the first time

There is no crime in being kind

Not everyone is out to screw you over

Maybe, yeah just maybe they just wanna get to know ya

And now the time is here

Baby, you don't have to live your life in fear

And the sky is clear, is clear of fear

[Chorus]

Don't wanna live in fear and loathing

I wanna feel like I am floating

Instead of constantly exploding

In fear and loathing

Albums that accompanied me during this period

Traumazine - Megan Thee Stallion

Something to Give Each Other - Troye Sivan

All year long, I was drawn to artists with an 8th house North Node. Lately, I’ve been drawn to slower, more sensual and jazzy songs, which isn’t something I listen to usually. Songs about intimacy, vulnerability.

-> both artists have a North Node in the 8th house, which is currently the energy I am encouraged to embody as it is the North Node of my solar return for the year 2024-25.

EDIT 030425 : Troye sivan doesn't have a north node in the 8th house

This north node is all about trust and intimacy, sharing oneself, the deepest parts of ourselves with others, sharing our resources, accepting loss and not compulsively clinging onto things, and possessions.

Just in the title of Troye Sivan’s album, this 8th house aspect is instantly identified : we have something to share, to give to others, to exchange with someone. It hints at an exclusive exchange between two people.

Something to Give Each Other hits especially now. Traumazine, it was more in February/March, which was the period I was starting to release things and started healing, feeling deeply angry and sad at the same. (around the astrological new year). Since September/October, especially now and for the next few months if not year, I have been feeling more like Something to Give Each Other. Now more than ever I am discovering the beauty of connecting with others, sharing my true self, throwing myself fully in the unknown nature of human relationships. All of those things , despite being a Pluto dominant and 8th houser, truly terrified me for years even though I obsessively and terribly craved it at the same time.

This album is my something to give you - a kiss on a dancefloor, a date turned into a weekend, a crush, a winter, a summer. Party after party, after party after after party. Heartbreak, freedom. Community, sisterhood, friendship. All that.

— Sivan describing the album

At the end of the day, we all have something to give to someone, and to give each other.

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windblumewishes · 17 days ago

Note

Hi, I don’t mean to come across as rude, more a genuine question. I’m very sorry if the wording is off here. But why are people so staunchly against posting the animations and stuff? I’ve just seen posts from other side too and I’m a bit stuck in the middle since I see their points.

I get there was a message saying not to, but it’s not a spoiling any content that hasn’t already been in the game for a long time and it’s not like twst is an indie game

Hello, Dearie!

While TWST isn’t an indie game that has heavy restrictions for players like not being able to post the story itself or even share game art it is still a game that has rules and regulations that the devs have set for the players to follow.

I understand why you would feel like this is strange as they have talked about overblots in the story many times but please understand that this is mainly something that they have never done before and is basically like an experiment of sorts with the fanbase. The reception has been astronomically positive for this update to the story and while the vast majority is respecting the developer’s wishes to keep this content off public platforms until a specified date it goes without saying that this experiment of sorts may very well determine whether or not we get more animation sequences in the story or events in the future.

If players actively break the rules and ignore warnings the developers will eventually notice and make the decision to cancel any future projects of animation sequences in the game’s future development. All because people thought it would be funny to ruin the experience for everyone.

This also serves as a chance for players to go and see the scenes themselves without the aid of others to scrape it from the story and distribute the content. If you want to experience the game yourself I will provide a detailed guide as to how:

iOS Devices:

For iOS devices you will need to do one of two things. You will need either a new Apple ID account specifically set for Japan or to switch your country/region inside the physical App Store itself.

Switch your existing Apple ID:

Open the Settings app on your iOS device.

Tap on your name, then tap "Media & Purchases".

Tap "View Account" and sign in if prompted.

Tap "Country/Region" and select Japan.

Review the terms and conditions and tap "Agree".

You'll need to enter a valid Japanese payment method and billing address, or select "None" if downloading free apps.

New Apple ID

Go to Apple and create new account.

Select “Japan” for country/region.

Enter your regular phone number for the required number. Does not matter if the phone number is for the US, any number works.

Enter in all necessary information and check to see if you missed anything for identification.

When it comes to enter your “address” simply make one up! Many of us use a hotel address and it works.

WRITE DOWN ALL LOG IN INFORMATION SO YOU NEVER FORGET IT!!

For Google Devices:

Go to QooApp and look for Twisted Wonderland, specifically JP TWST and play from there.

I genuinely hope you realize the fandom is not trying to be a bunch of gatekeepers and bullies saying “don’t post” because the devs asked us not to post. They never ask anything of us unless absolutely necessary, this is one of those extremely rare cases where the devs and Yana have stepped up to say no posting- that is HUGE. This isn’t a case of “well the story is nothing new, why can’t we share because it’s the same old thing?” it’s something big and the devs are giving you a chance to try it out by downloading and playing it through.

Also, even if you have to wait until August 1st it’s not the end of the world here, you can wait. If you had to wait to play the Diasomnia Chapter on EN you can wait for the animations. Truly, it’s not that difficult to follow the rules and do as the devs ask of us.

- Windblume

#windblume rambles #twisted wonderland #twst #twst spoilers #twst jp spoilers #twisted wonderland overblot animations #overblot animations #twst anime #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #ortho shroud #malleus draconia

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petitspaghetti · 6 months ago

Text

add one tiny beautiful thing to a corner of your home

bake for a loved one

braid your hair

brush your hair

brush your teeth

buy flowers

calculate the calories in a recipe

call someone

carve wood

change sheets

chew ice

clean out your e-mails

clean your fridge

clean your hairbrush

clean your keyboard

clean your makeup bag

clean your makeup brushes

clean your mirrors

clean your purse

clean your shoes

clean your windows

create a binge monster character and give it a backstory

create a budget

create a language

create a memory box

create a new outfit

create a secret writing system

create a video

create a wishlist

create your own animal crossing villager

crochet

curl into a ball and rock side to side

cut up a magazine and make word art

dance

daydream

declutter

decorate your home

delete dead chats

delete old contacts

delete unneeded pictures

design a building

design a character

design a menu

design a space

discover new music

do a full-body yawn

do a jigsaw puzzle

do an exercise or yoga class on youtube

do a sudoku

do cardio

do nothing

do yourself a manicure

do yourself a pedicure

do laundry

do yoga

draw a cartoon

draw a map

draw what the craving looks like with color and shape

draw your future house

draw your future self

draw your safe food

draw yourself

drink a big glass of water

drink apple cider vinegar

drink tea

dry brush yourself

dye something

enjoy the sun

exfoliate

explore new apps

feel your feelings

find a new perfume

find a new recipe

find out your favorite animal crossing villager

find out your favorite color

find out your favorite emoji

find out your favorite gemstone

find out your favorite month

find out your favorite season

find out your favorite tamagotchi character

find satisfying color combos

fix something broken

floss

focus on your breath

focus on your posture

fold your clothes like a professional

forest bath

frame or display something you've made in the past

give yourself a lymphatic drainage massage

give yourself a massage

give yourself a tarot reading

go for a bike ride

go for a walk

go swimming

go thrift shopping

go to the beach

go to the cinema

hum and play with your voice

imagine you're holding the part of you that wants to binge, rock it

improve your routine

iron your clothes

join letterboxd

learn about a different culture

learn about birds

learn about flowers

learn about trees

learn a choreography

learn a language

learn all country flags of the world

learn a new hair style

learn how to play chess or go

learn mushroom identification

learn origami

learn to knit

light a candle

listen to an album

listen to an independent radio online

listen to a podcast

listen to the radio

make a bracelet

make a choreography

make a collage

make a gift for someone

make a gratitude list

make a list of great names

make a list of things you wish to release

make a list of your favorite words

make a mobile

make a new pinterest board

make a playlist

make a plushie

make a red bracelet

make a shopping list

make a short film

make a themed died

make a to-do list

make candles

make coffee

make ice cream

make kimchi

make kombucha

make music

make ornaments

make recycled paper

make sorbet

make stickers

make whatsapp stickers

make your bed

make your own game

make your own spice blend

make your own tea blend

make youtube playlists

meal prep

meet someone

memorize countries and capitals

moisturize

mop your floor

move your body

oil your hair

organize your closet

organize your files

organize your kitchen

organize your Notion

organize your phone

organize your spices

paint a picture

paint a still life

paint on a rock and hide it in nature

paint your future garden

paint your nails

pet your pet

pick flowers

plan a date

plan a menu

plan a movie night

plan a picnic

plan a road trip

plan a seasonal ritual

plan a tattoo

plan a tea party

plan a trip

plant seeds

plan your best friend's birthday

plan your birthday

plan your day

plan your next halloween costume

play a board game with someone

play animal crossing

play an instrument

play solitaire

play video games

play with your pet

polish your shoes

practice meditation

practice makeup

practice walking

practice your handwriting

pray

press flowers

print a picture of your favourite safe food

print coloring pages

print out something

put on clothes

put your feet in warm water

read a book

read aloud

read a magazine

read manga

read positive affirmations

read the newspaper

rearrange the furniture

record a voice note for yourself

recycle

refrigerate chia water

reorganize your pencils

repair something

reply a message

research a topic

rewatch your favourite movie

run your hands over different textures

sanitize your phone

sauna

say aloud "i am allowed to choose"

scoop cat litter

scream into a pillow

sell something

send a postcard

sew something

shake your body

sharpen your pencils

shave

shop lingerie

show love to someone

sing

sleep

solve crosswords

sort out your bills

spend time in nature

stretch

study

take a long shower

take collagen

take a nap

take a photo of something boring and make it look beautiful

take a soundwalk and list every sound you hear

take online quizzes

take out the trash

take pictures in nature

take your vitamins

teach your pet something

tell the binge that you are stronger than it

tie-dye something

try to decide what is your favourite something

tweeze your brows

unfollow accounts you don't like anymore

update your calendar

update your passwords

use a face mask

use essential oils

vacuum

visit an antiquarian bookshop

visit a café

visit a botanical garden

visit a cemetery

visit a library

visit a museum

visit an art gallery

visit your relatives

walk around your home

walk at the mall

walk somewhere new

walk your pet

wash dishes

wash your hair

wash your pillows

watch a candle flicker in a dark room

watch a concert

watch a documentary

watch a fashion show

watch a movie

watch anime

watch a short film

watch a video essay

watch mukbangs

watch the clouds go by

watch youtube

watercolor

water your plants

wrap a gift

wrap yourself in a blanket

write a letter

write a letter to your hunger

write a list of all the things you want to achieve

write and illustrate a children's book

write a page of nonsense in cursive

write a song

write a thank you card

write in your journal

write out what you wish someone would say to you right now

write to your penpal

write your own list of what to do instead of binge eating

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transformativeworksandcultures · 6 months ago

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CFP: Latin American Fandoms

Latin American fandom is a topic that rarely appears in peer-reviewed articles in English and irregularly in Spanish. Phenomena such as fan fiction (fanfic), cosplay, and online communities allow us to explore the representation (Aranda et al., 2013) and appropriation (Yucra-Quispe et al., 2022) of national content (telenovelas and narcocorridos) as well as content from other countries, whether it be movies or streaming platforms.

Despite its unifying name, Latin America is home to diverse panoramas and forms of expression. This territory contains countless sources of scholarly tradition that analyzes practices and content derived from entertainment products (books, films, games, among others), called prosumer practices, which are the result of the creativity of Internet users (Fernández Castrillo, 2014), under the approach of Digital Humanities. This space represents fertile ground for Spanish-speaking researchers to apply multidisciplinary methods and theories.

This call opens the door to studies that delve into the uncharted territory of Latin American fan practices. Fandom studies include the analysis of the impact of influencers, the modernization of heritage works, trends in the publishing industry (such as slow-burn romance novels) that function as a space for identification, allegiance or rebellion (Vargas Vargas, 2022), multilingualism in the digital world, and teaching practices that use elements of popular culture, from fairy tales to anime, to promote new literacies in the classroom.

This call for papers invites researchers, students, and fandom participants to share their analysis of fandom practices from the multidisciplinary perspective of fan studies, as well as literary criticism of transformative works written in Spanish, focusing on intersectional perspectives of race, gender, class, and nationality in the study of fandom content. The publishing language is English.

Texts will be received in English and may include, among other topics:

Fandom and Communities: analysis of prosumer entertainment practices (discussion forums, Discord, cosplay) and the different discourses that are woven into them from an appropriation perspective of mass media content.

New Techniques; Evergreen Knowledge: mono- or multidisciplinary research on the role of new technologies in the creation of meaning, communication and safeguarding of native digital content.

Literature on the Internet: reflections on how platforms, archives or transformative works expand or complement the Latin American literary tradition.

Literary Criticism of Fandom Works and Practices: critical explorations from decolonial, feminist, critical discourse analysis perspectives, etc.

Fandom in the Classroom: description of fandom practices in the development of critical thinking, multimedia and academic literacy.

Submit final papers directly to Transformative Works and Cultures by January 1, 2026.

Submission Guidelines

Transformative Works and Cultures (TWC, http://journal.transformativeworks.org/) is an international peer-reviewed online Diamond Open Access publication of the nonprofit Organization for Transformative Works, copyrighted under a Creative Commons License. TWC aims to provide a publishing outlet that welcomes fan-related topics and promotes dialogue between academic and fan communities. TWC accommodates academic articles of varying scope and other forms, such as multimedia, that embrace the technical possibilities of the internet and test the limits of the academic writing genre.

Articles: Peer review. Maximum 8,000 words.

Symposium: Editorial review. Maximum 4,000 words.

Please visit TWC's website (https://journal.transformativeworks.org/) for complete submission guidelines or email the TWC Editor ([email protected]).

Contact—Contact guest editors Yazmín Carrizales and Libertad Garzón with any questions before or after the due date at [email protected].

References

Aranda, D., Sánchez-Navarro, J. y Roig, A. (2013). Fanáticos: La cultura fan. Editorial UOC.

Fernández Castrillo, C. (2014). Prácticas transmedia en la era del prosumidor: Hacia una definición del Contenido Generado por el Usuario (CGU). Cuadernos de Información y Comunicación, 19, 53-67.

Vargas Vargas, J. (2022). Tatakae: El giro espacial del animé en el contexto de la protesta social. Contratexto, 38(038), 43-71.

Yucra-Quispe, L. M., Espinoza-Montoya, C., Núñez-Pacheco, R. y Aguaded, I. (2022). De consumidores a prosumidores: la narrativa transmedia en dos juegos móviles para adolescentes y jóvenes. Revista de Comunicación, 21(1), 433-451.

#twc #otw #fandom #fan studies #academia #fandom studies #academic journals #latin american fandom #latin america #spanish language fandoms #spanish fans #latin american fans

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cas-backwards-tie · 2 years ago

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Chapter One: An Unexpected Pair

COD men x Reader

Trials & Triumphs

Summary: You've been selected to lead a ragtag group of operatives through a covert long-op. Determined to take down NATO's latest focus: a prominent underground sex-trafficking ring, you're put to the test when you're unexpectedly saddled with a strike team you've only heard of through rumors: TaskForce 141.

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: Alcohol, Peer Pressure, Tension, Cursing

A/N: So... this is sort of a self-indulgence, and idk how far I'm gonna go with this, so I left it up to fate. It could wind up a simon-ghost-riley x reader or könig x reader... maybe even keegan x reader. Who knows.

Sent in by NATO, you find yourself in command of a ragtag team made up of specialists from a handful of different countries. It didn't take long to figure out that Laswell had apparently heard your request all those months ago to be considered for a project in this territory. Sure, some of the recruits for this mission were familiar, though most are not.

Handshakes all around, you take in the people you'll be spending the next few months--or possibly--years with. It doesn't take long for Laswell to brief you all on the current circumstances and protocol for this project. While you'll all have the next few hours to pack and get ready to ship out, what comes next is unexpected.

"Captain, this is TaskForce One-Four-One. They'll be your Strike team upon identification, extraction, and recovery. You'll be in close contact throughout this mission," Laswell explains with an outstretched hand presented toward the door. Everyone's eyes on the additions to your team, you're not too surprised when you spot who walks into the briefing room.

What followed devolved into more or less what you'd describe as an argument. It was unclear whether this TaskForce 141 was reporting to you, or you, to them. Laswell simply dismissed both parties' worries and insisted you figure it out on your own.

Despite the confusion, you're determined to follow through with your praised routine for missions. On the way out of the briefing room, you managed to snag their Captain's number to make a group chat for the time being. Everything in order, you text the plans for this evening. Everyone is to pack their belongings in order to ship out tomorrow morning at 04:00 hours. Once they're done with that, they can meet up at Rockie's, one of the bars just a few minutes walk off base for an icebreaker.

There was the debate of dressing up. Revealing your features, having fun with some of the buddies on your squadron you'd done dozens of missions with, yet, this isn't that. It's not a celebration or a victory; not a job well done, this is a meeting... an introduction. Therefore, bare face is out of the question. If anything, it's best to stay on guard until you get to know the outliers on this project.

Nevertheless, that doesn't mean you can't have a good time with your friends while still getting to know the others! Eyes scanning over the warmly lit bar, you revel in the mid-week relative quiet. In all honesty, it's not quiet, but considering how rowdy it can get on the weekends or after a homecoming, it sure can be described that way. There's a game of pool going on in the back corner, and a game on the televisions on either side of the bar. Though you're more intrigued by the small crowd of people flitting about. Elbow keeping you propped up against the dark wooden bar table, you watch one of the bartenders mill about, hopefully, getting your drinks.

"Was not expecting to see you here, Cap," Keegan voices his surprise. He'd been holding it in the entire meeting, eager to congratulate you on what can only be considered a promotion of sorts. Being put in charge of a covert long-op is something usually only experienced vets get put on. While you're not a newbie by any means, he hadn't anticipated seeing you on the mission, let alone in charge of it. "Can't wait to see how you go about this." With a pat to your back, the exposed rounds Keegan's cheeks rise. You can tell he's smiling.

Returning from the bathroom, McKay and Wilson laugh alongside one another. A small smile graces your lips; you're not sure where you'd be if you hadn't been fortunate in meeting and getting to know them. Junior Lieutenant Amala McKay you'd been through basic with, having both enlisted at the same time. While you hadn't known each other prior, it was safe to say that you'd both come from fairly different worlds and mindsets... yet, opposites attract, right? Corporal Olivia Wilson you'd met upon resettlement after graduation, being stationed at the same base and in the same sector. She was a tough nut, that's for sure. Though through your hard work she'd easily come around and determined you were a strong enough character to befriend.

"Keegan, this is-" raising a hand toward the approaching women, you offer what you can of a smile from behind your balaclava.

"Private McKay," Keegan greets. With an extended hand, McKay easily meets it with her own, tugging him into a shoulder bump of sorts. That sort of stereotypical 'bro' greeting you've gotten accustomed to in the military.

"You'll be pleased to know it's Junior Lieutenant now, Sergeant!" She informs him, a smile instantly lifting her already bright demeanor, the woman practically beaming with a sense of pride.

"Corporal Wilson," the slightly shorter blonde woman greets. Her typical stoicism replaces the jovial attitude she'd had upon exiting the bathroom.

"Sergeant Keegan Russ," he responds with a nod and firm handshake.

"Oh great," Wilson sighs, ducking her head. Following her reaction, the group spots who's just walked into the bar. You may not know him personally, but you've seen him around and have heard a thing or two about Commander Phillip Graves. Alongside him walk in the other assigned specialists Laswell and NATO had enlisted at the behest of KorTac, a separate private military contractor from yours.

McKay nudges Wilson with her elbow, eliciting a groan from Wilson as she drags a hand down her face. "You know them?" Keegan questions, an eyebrow raising from what you can spot beneath his balaclava.

"Me? No... but it seems Wilson does," you answer, teasing your friend. Wilson shakes her head, blonde hair obscuring her features as she turns on her heels and announces that she needs a drink, departing in favor of the bar.

"Wonder what that's about," Keegan voices his thoughts aloud, curious eyes following Wilson's retreating figure. While your gaze turns in suit, it's only a few seconds before you're drawn back to your previous line of sight with a call of your rank.

"Captain, right?" It's him: Phillip Graves. Taking in the approaching figures, you nod, extending a hand out toward the man. "This your team?" With a reciprocated shake, the Commander grips your hand tighter than needed, an abrupt shake leaving your brows tensing just subtly beneath your balaclava.

"Once upon a time, maybe," you respond. The playfulness in your tone may go over the Commander's radar, however Keegan releases a quiet chuckle to himself. "Meet Sergeant-"

"Keegan Russ," announcing his own namesake, he only offers a nod in the Commander's direction before turning to the two others beside him.

"That there's Junior Lieutenant-" you extend an arm in presentation.

"McKay," Amala finishes, extending a firm shake to each of the men before her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, though I'm gonna go check on Wilson," she excuses herself. With that announcement, your eyes flit over to the blonde hunched over the bar haphazardly sat on a stool.

"I'll be back," Graves states, heading off in the direction of the bar--which leaves you worried for half a second--till he swerves under the signs leading to the restrooms.

"Hello." The man that'd been next to Graves looks like a dwarf in comparison to the Giant beside him, however the fact that he still looms over you in the way most of your associates do says something. "I am Horangi," he introduces himself, extending a hand. Adorned by a plain black face mask and dark sunglasses, they both leave room for mystery. He has an accent, and while you know where he comes from based off the files you'd obtained in advance of your meeting this afternoon, his voice wouldn't be a signifier otherwise.

"Nice to meet you, Horangi," you respond, introducing your own last name and ranking of Captain. With a gentle grip and firm shake, you offer him a smile from behind your balaclava. As soon as he proceeds to introduce himself to Keegan, you move onto the only one left: the Giant.

"Hallo Captain," the Giant greets, "I am König. It is nice to meet you." Though he doesn't offer a hand, you do. Watching the man's eyes shift behind his mask at the movement, he has to crane his neck downward in order to see you properly. Simultaneously, you also have to crane your neck upward to meet his gaze. It's awkward, but the man accepts your offer and brings his gloved hand up to gently shake your much smaller hand before quickly releasing it.

The files aren't needed to know by his accent that this is the Colonel KorTac sent. The insertion specialist, if you remember correctly. While you hadn't had a great lengthy time to look over everyone's files, you'd at least gotten a vague general sense of their positions and rankings. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Konig," you respond. "Everyone's just getting here, so feel free to get a drink, look around. I don't know how familiar you two are with this base." König nods in response to your words, a quiet 'Danke' passing between you before he follows his partner's lead and introduces himself to Keegan as well.

Just in time, the server from earlier drops off the drinks you'd ordered. Keegan grabs a beer, while you partake in the cider you'd gotten yourself, the few shots on the tray up for grabs since you'd wanted to provide ground for a casual vibe. The server asks if the two new additions to your group would like to order anything. Both men seem interested but ask questions that leave the server amused and offering for them to follow him to the bar to give them samples and an actual menu.

Deciding to take a seat at the barstool on one side of the table, you're joined by Keegan, a friendly but comfortable silence lingering between you two. Some of the hot oldies play, garnering a few bouts of singing along inbetween sips of cider. It's only once she's gotten her drink that McKay rejoins the table with a glass of beer. She's always been one for tradition, you'd come to learn.

"Nice of 'em to finally show up," Keegan comments under his breath before downing the last of his bottle. He places it on the tabletop before standing, tacitly offering his seat up to McKay before nodding towards the bar. You get his gist and nod in response; he's going to get another drink.

"Want a shot?" You offer to your partner, eyes finally taking the time to take in who Keegan was referring to. Swiveling on your stool, you face diagonally to the entrance. Under the warm lights of the bar walk in a group of four men, one of them unintentionally signifying their identity in the form of a skull mask.

"Why the hell not? If we're off to Al-Mazrah tomorrow then I'll need it, huh?" She laughs, nudging your bicep with her elbow. An amused smirk sets upon your lips beneath the balaclava, though your eyes don't leave the group lingering by the door. It only takes your lackluster response to earn the addition of Amala's attention. "You seem apprehensive," she comments, following suit as you both take in their appearance. "Can't blame you though. Did you even know they were on call for this?"

The slight clench of your jaw gives her the answer you really hadn't wanted to provide. You wish she hadn't asked, but there's no doubt the information would come out sooner or later anyway. "No... but there's no reason we can't make it work. Right?" You reassure. Though if you're honest, you don't know if it's directed more toward her or yourself. Motion a second nature by now, you pull down your balaclava just enough to down the rest of your cider before pushing the bottle into the middle of the table alongside the shots. Hands on the polished table, you push yourself off the stool to stand. "Speaking of-" Interrupted, all eyes in the bar jump to the loud and boisterous voice by the front doors.

"'EYA GRAVES, LONG TIME 'N NO SEE!" A loud and booming accented voice signals you in on its owner. Through all the files you'd skimmed, there was only one person from this place, and while you usually have a harder time pinning few similar accents, this one is more pronounced in this moment. John MacTavish, the only Scottish member of Taskforce 141.

Watching the loud soldier head toward the bar, the rest of them walk over to a table just a few feet away, another bar table set in the distance between. The darker-skinned man takes off his hat and jacket, placing the items on a barstool before turning to a mustached man who shreds his own jacket. While they converse, it becomes clear how they're setting up camp at their own table, not bothering to even introduce themselves first unlike the people who were relatively on time according to your instruction.

"Should we-?"

"I'll go over, try to get them to join," you announce. Hand coming up to halt Amala from getting up, you send her a knowing look before leaving her with a quick playful wave. While it should be easy to squeeze into their conversation and welcome them to your team, you find yourself daunted. Whether it's the infamous skull mask everyone has heard rumors of, and his unflinching cold stare, or the fact that they're all a part of one of the special black ops taskforces you'd only heard were solely fiction made up to scare newer recruits until today. Nevertheless, a group of tall men in uniforms, bigger, and presumably stronger than you isn't anything new. Though for whatever reason, you can't help but stumble in place as a shiver runs through your body.

"Ay, it's the Cap'in, innit?" Eyes shifting over and up to the man speaking, you hadn't expected such a gruff and deep voice from him.

"Indeed, it is. Pleasure to meet you..." The amused, partially giddy smile begins to crack at the seams of your stoicism. No matter how old you get, there's no denying the universe girlhood that's currently peeking through: your fondness for men with accents.

"Cap'in Price," he announces, a hand extending outward across the man beside him. "Good to meet ya." With a firm shake, you give him a nod of your head in response. It's interesting to meet someone of the same ranking, though from another country, not to mention a different unit altogether. You're curious to hear about his profession and see how he handles situations. While their Captain may be a decade or two your senior, you can admire the nice beard he has going on.

"You've got head on this op, isn't that right?" Eyes shifting over and up at the man right beside you, he crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Name's Kyle, but you can call me Gaz," he informs you, an easygoing smile on his lips. You can admit to yourself that he's attractive, his big nose suiting the features of his face, thick eyebrows, plump lips, curious dark brown eyes. Before you can finish introducing yourself to Gaz, the forming smile that'd been tugging at your lips comes to a halt.

"An' you've got us out here, hours before departure. For what?" The smile dies. Everyone's attention shoots over to him: Ghost. You'd heard of him, sure. Even a continent away the rumors spread; he didn't have a name, only a motive: kill or be killed.

Searching his eyes, it only takes a fraction of a second to see the questioning, the frustration, the anger. You'd been known as a good people reader, and while masks might make things a bit more difficult, the dim lighting of the bar only exacerbates the shadows surrounding his face. A cocky smirk instinctively displays itself on your lips beneath the mask. With a shake of your head and an amused breath huffing out your nose, you finally meet his eyes again. "To get to know one another. There's no point in going out there if you can't even begin to try and see how your other operatives think."

"An' you think drinkin' and makin' idle chitchat is gonna fix that?" He questions. Eyebrows raising beneath your balaclava you don't stand down or look away this time. You're not willing to give him the sort of submission he might expect. While your ranking does stand higher than his, you also know that when it comes to the military, there's no shortage of misogynistic men. It's too soon to judge, and he's certainly made no clear indication of that mindset, but his questioning raises flags on your end that might be worth looking out for.

"No, but it's a start," you retort. Crossing your arms over your chest you turn from facing him head-on to open yourself back toward the other men. "When you'd get off your last deployment?" You inquire. Either Ghost's simply getting ahead of the game and is putting himself in the mindset he may need for whatever this mission calls for, or something tells you he might still be holding onto whatever baggage came with the last.

""Bout three weeks ago, innit?" Gaz comments, head swiveling as he double-checks with the Captain who nods in confirmation. Though your sightline is more directed toward Ghost, you don't miss the way Gaz attempts to subtly nod over toward the bar. "Why?" The seemingly talkative one of the bunch says, attention back on you.

"Just curious," you answer. Surely that question isn't a common one, but you were genuinely interested. "And regardless, I know Laswell said we need to hash this out, but for the moment, I appreciate you coming. I think it's important to get to know everyone we'll be working with the next few months." While you take your time with your words, you don't let it go over their heads that their participation is expected from you. Business out of the way, you gently slap on Gaz's back--he was closest--and smile. "Now why don't you go get a drink!"

The men to your right chuckle, the Captain and Gaz instantly brought out of whatever tension was between you and Ghost and into much higher spirits. "Can't say no to that!" Gaz comments, starting to walk away and toward the bar. The Captain turns to leave before slinging an arm around your shoulder and guiding you away from their table.

"Don't you mind him. He's... a tough nut, yeah? He'll come around, eventually. Good soldier- does what he needs to. I can assure you I don't think we'll have any trouble, just... let him come around, alright?" Captain Price speaks quietly, though you wouldn't exactly call it a whisper. Eyes roaming over his shoulder to spot Ghost in the same position you'd all left him, you can't help but wonder what the hell his problem is. The Captain comes to a stop, his eyes searching your face as you haven't responded and he's waiting.

"Sounds like a plan," you concede, nodding for good measure. The Captain offers a smile before leaving you with a friendly slap on the back. With a lick of your lips beneath the fabric, you try and think of what to do next. Vision drifting around the room in search of someone, it isn't long before you find them. Walking back to your table, you see McKay slowly acquiring a frothy foamed mustache from her beer.

“Do you know who that this?” Your comrade, McKay, questions, baffled by your audacity to command the 141 and their Lieutenant around. She shifts between staring at him over her shoulder and looking away.

“Only by rumor,” you answer. Everything you’d heard up until now had all been gossip. Stories, tales that were woven by people who’d simply heard something from someone, and the list went on. All of it could be chalked up to nothing. You don’t know him, you haven’t heard of his work and the exact details through any trustworthy sources so all in all, you can’t bring yourself to care about the rumors.

"Well, he seems like trouble. Don't know he's going to follow orders willingly... might even go rogue," McKay comments between sips of her beer. Her brown eyes shift over to meet your gaze, unsurprised that it's still stuck on him. "Wouldn't let it get to you though." Her attempt at relieving you only spurs on the challenge in your mind. Amala's eyes narrow as she has a guess at what you're thinking, or rather, planning.

Being close to the woman, you know she'll catch on. With a quick flash of a smile in her direction, gaze torn from the mysterious figure, you steer her off your scent. "Maybe I'll offer them the shots? At least try to get on their good side," you offer.

"Sounds like a plan," she muses, teasingly quoting a pleasantry you'd often make. With a raise of her stein, she wishes you the best of luck with a pat on the back.

Carrying the tray over, your eyes drift over to the folks at the bar. It seems that the KorTac folks have finally settled on drinks, while Graves and Wilson talk, clearly making some type of progress. For the better, you can only hope. Keegan's gaze catches yours upon surveying the premises; with smiles exchanged, he too, offers a raise of his beer. It's then that Gaz introduces himself, the Captain quickly following suit. Entirely all too aware of the piercing gaze following your figure from the Taskforce's table, irregardless of your attention. You won't give him the satisfaction. Nearing the table, you can feel your heart racing in your chest, nerves climbing up your spine, latching onto whatever crevices they can reach.

With careful hands you set the tray on their table, gently pushing aside the condiment carrier, making sure nothing falls. Hand encircling the glass, you pull down your balaclava just enough to expose your lips before sipping at your second cider. "What's this?" He finally speaks. "Tequila shots?" The Ghost asks, taking a step closer toward the table.

"A peace offering. You might think it's stupid, but in getting to know my team, I usually get them the food and drinks--on me--when it's an activity I deem necessary. So, by all means--"

"An' who's this lovely bird? You not gonna introduce me, Ghost?" Interrupted, you turn to meet the sound of people approaching. The quiet groan that slips past Ghost's reserve doesn't go unnoticed by you, but you play none the wiser.

Gaz shoves his hip into the curiosity you'd read was John 'Soap' MacTavish, the codename, you couldn't possibly surmise a reasoning to. "Bloody hell," he curses, "That's the Captain, idiot!" With either hand around his teammate's shoulders, the bump from Gaz sends him leaning into their own Captain, John. It only now crosses your mind that with two Johns on their team the need for codenames must be more a necessity than simply security.

"Please excuse him, he might have..." the Captain's words trail off as he looks over Soap's shoulder at Gaz. "What was it you said? He went pre-gone? Decided to do a premie?"

Gaz slides Soap's arm off his shoulder before crumbling in half, hands on his knees as he laughs. "Pre-game! He decided to Pre-game, Price! Hell," the man snorts every once in a while as he laughs his ass off.

"Mm," you hum. "He pre-gamed, I see. No worries-" you begin to excuse the soldier, even if amusement rumbles in your chest, threatening to come out in an equal fit of laughter.

"Captain what?" Soap asks, his other arm slinking off their Captain's shoulder only for the man to push Soap toward one of the stools.

"Fuckin' idiot," Ghost curses more to himself than anyone.

"Oh, you're talkin' codenames already?" Graves rounds the table to stand between Soap and Ghost, a beer bottle settled in his grip.

"Anyway, since it seems everyone's coming over I got a round of shots for you all. Please feel free," you announce. While sliding the respective shots on the tray in the direction of the people surrounding the table, you purposefully lift Ghost's shot and place it before him. If anyone needs to relax, it's clearly this man.

"Watch out!" You hear Keegan's voice before you feel his gloved hand on your waist, tugging you out of the way. Wilson and McKay slide the nearest table together, making the table big enough for all of you. "Thought we'd make it big enough for everyone to sit together," he informs you.

"Thanks, Keeg," you respond. A smile unconsciously tugs across your lips as you hadn't realized anyone had cared enough to notice and join your efforts to try and get everyone together.

With the rejoining of König and Horangi at the end of the table, you're all together. "Any ideas for a team name?" McKay questions, looking around the big table.

This question elicits lots of laughs and verbalized thoughts, which in turn manage to garner everyone's opinions. All in all, you'd say that things may have start off rocky, but have finally turned into a proper icebreaker. While everyone might have differing opinions and feelings about the people on their team, you can at least say that now you're beginning to get to know the people you'll be working with. One can hope it'll lead to friendship and smooth sailing when it comes to group dynamics, but you suppose only time will tell that story.

~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

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sccpmccabe · 10 months ago

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Want to create a hegemonic women football team on your continent? Corinthians will teach you how!

Hire a bunch of idiots who happen to know how to play football (the vast majority, well, some not so much, it is very important to have this balance!!!!)

Give these idiots good playing conditions and training

Have a good media team that captures their best moments, whether at the training center, in away games or in the pre and post game locker room

Create an incredible relationship of identification between the idiots and the fans and vice versa

And there you have it! You have your multi-champion team, loved by the second largest fan base in your country (which has more than 35 million people)!

#sport club corinthians paulista #corinthians feminino #corinthians #brazil wnt #brwnt #brawnt #women football #women's soccer #woso #woso community #woso memes #woso appreciation #woso soccer #woso social media

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rebeccathenaturalist · 2 years ago

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So in writing the history of identification/taxonomy chapter for The Everyday Naturalist, I spent a lot of time poring over scans and reprints of very old western European natural history books. This included a lot of medieval bestiaries, which were usually illuminated manuscripts with the colorful, stylized artwork so common from that era. It wasn't until the European Renaissance that you started seeing more of an emphasis on realistic artwork, and by the time you get to the transitional period between the late Renaissance and the Enlightenment engravings based on original drawings were very common for illustrating books on animals and plants.

A lot of the images passed around as "antique scientific illustrations" stem from the mid-17th century Historiae Naturalis written by John Jonston and illustrated by Matthäus Merian the Elder. By this point in history numerous European nations were sending ships around the globe to bring back resources, which included a significant number of natural history specimens. The sheer variety and biodiversity represented by these gave naturalists in these countries an overwhelming amount of fodder for study, classification, and publication.

However, there was still the perennial problem that not everyone writing or illustrating these seemingly exotic species could access them in person. Medieval bestiaries, and their predecessor the Physiologus, tended to mix natural history with religious allegory, and often the writers had never actually seen the species they were describing. Since they had to go on secondhand (or thirdhand, or fifteenthhand) information, things sometimes got lost in translation like a big game of Telephone. And the situation was still the same by the time Jonston and Merian were working on the Historiae Naturalis.

Which is why that venerable attempt to catalog as many of the animals in the known world as possible includes, amid pages of real animals like molluscs, deer, and bats (categorized with the birds!), you also had descriptions and engravings of six different unicorn species. Jonston did remark that he was going entirely on the word of others and cited his sources wherever he could, but it seems as though most of them were treating the unicorn as a separate beast from the rhinoceros or antelopes. (You can find a scan of the entire Historiae Naturalis de Quadrupedibus here, if you want to read for yourself.)

This is probably the last major natural history work in which unicorns and other mythical animals would be presented as equally real as flesh-and-blood animals; once the Enlightenment got into full swing, the sciences sought empirical evidence, and hearsay was generally no longer considered good enough for publication. So there's something a little charming about this text that bridges the gap between the ancient bestiaries with their blurring of fact and fiction, and the modern emphasis on chasing down the truth behind the myths.

#natural history #Historiae Naturalis #scientific illustration #antique illustration #vintage illustration #bestiaries #science #unicorns #animals #wildlife #nature #Renaissance #medieval art #medieval history #bestiary #history #art history #antique animals

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girlintharsiscity · 4 months ago

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oh god i forgot she had amnesia

When we were in Japan, we kept seeing commercials for an anime featuring girls and golf. I forgot what the show was called, and found a show called Birdie Wing on Crunchyroll that definitely wasn’t the commercial, but fit the general theme.

Decided to hit play, and what we thought was a typical high school sports anime instead featured:

Main character with AMNESIA

Taught golf for 3 years by a shadowy figure who has scars all over his face. Why? Unexplained.

Taken in by two other teens who are squatting in a bar (maybe? if we interpret the timeline right, the older one is 17 and running a bar???) who are also hiding 3 refugee children. There are a couple discussions about how they don’t have identification/work authorization in their country.

They live in a country called Nafrece, which definitely looks like the bastard baby of Brooklyn and Porto

Rival teen who’s 15 and a prodigy and daughter of a CEO, potential hints at Mommy Issues

They meet on a course serendipitiously and all they can think about now is playing each other and no that is not a metaphor for anything

Amnesiac makes money by playing in the Underground Golf World run by the Mafia

Mafia Boss Lady owns an underground randomizable golf course powered by a hydroelectric dam - I can’t stress this enough, the dam is featured every time the course changes - and makes money by having people bet on these golf matches

There is a character named Vipere but more often called “Snake Woman” by the others who wears a latex black and red bodysuit and emits poison from her bellybutton, which throws her opponents literally offbalance so she can win

Mafia Boss Lady and Mafia Boss Man are duking over casino rights and the property deed through a game of golf, played by their champions — Amnesiac versus Scarface’s previous protege, who lost a hand as a consequence of losing a mafia match. This is life and death golf.

Did I already mention the main character has AMNESIA?

We were trying to explain the show to a friend last night over shabu shabu and his only response was “this sounds like a fever dream. are you sure it’s not some alternate reality Crunchyroll?” and “oh god I forgot she had amnesia”

Anyway, we reached the point in the story where the Amnesiac is on the run and has fucked off to Japan to see the Rival that she has no interest in beyond playing a golf match and now the actual high school sports drama has commenced but also like. What the FUCK were the first 8 episodes?

#birdie wing #i am fucking obsessed and don’t you dare get near me with spoilers

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sentientcave · 1 year ago

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You Drive Me Wild - Nikolai x OC It's October 1990, and Nikolai is a soldier, guarding the Soviet embassy in Copenhagen. It's a dull assignment, with dull comrades, the only bright spot of his station the days away from the embassy, when he can get to know this new city and her people. It's one of these nights when a woman he's been dreaming about walks into a smoky bar, and into his arms at last.

Contains: Alcohol, smoking, age-gap relationship, plain text is "translated" Russian (Since it is Nikolai's perspective), English in italics, pining, low-key hero worship, oral sex, unprotected (oops) sex. (Let me know if I missed something!)

~7.3k - MDNI!! - Intended for mature audiences

Read on AO3

Copenhagen, October 5th, 1990

Copenhagen was… Alright.

Nikolai had gotten a cushy sort of assignment, thanks to Natalia’s connections, guarding the Soviet embassy. Mostly all he had to do was stand around and look threatening, check identification at the gate, occasionally follow the ambassador around to some function or another. It wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t exciting. It just… was. Days bled into each other like cheap watercolour paint, edges blurred and indistinct. The routine chafed at him. He had gotten too used to freedom, running wild between Leningrad and the farmhouse out in Kyrelia, skipping school and occasionally helping his uncle with work, which was more likely to end in real action than anything he did at the embassy. A high-speed car chase through fields of rye was good fun, and a knife-fight in a back alley was better.

Still, there was a certain thrill to getting out of Russia— A few runs across the border into Finland hadn’t given him much idea of what life was like outside, and he was eager to taste what the West had to offer him. He spent every moment that he could off base, practising his languages, picking up pretty brunettes (English and American ones, when he could), listening to music that hadn’t been approved by any government agency, played in basement bars, laced with anger and heavy guitar, the air heavy with smoke and the smell of sweat. He would have spent too much of his meagre salary going out to bars around the city, if he didn’t so often wind up with more cash in his pockets than when he left, betting on games of pool and poker and winning more often than not.

He had a few favourite establishments, ones with a higher turnover rate of tourists. It was harder to shark the same people twice, but cocky American tourists provided good hunting for a fresh-faced soldier who was oh so good at pretending to be a simple country boy. It was their own arrogance that lost the games before they had even begun. Nikolai had no qualms about using that American bluff and bluster to his advantage. This particular bar was near some of the embassies and plenty of hotels, and he’d already made a hundred American dollars playing pool with chain of unlucky marks (So typical of Americans to carry their own currency in another country). He sat at the bar considering his next move. He felt no particular urge to play any longer, or to return to his comrades, sitting at a table on the other side of the crowded establishment. Perhaps he would try his luck with the table of leggy blond women in the back corner of the smoky bar. One of them had been throwing smiles his way for the past half-hour. Pussy was pussy, even if he did prefer brunettes with thick, muscular thighs.

“You should play another round of pool,” Ivan, one of his fellow embassy guards said in his ear, half crashing into him from behind, knocking Nikolai into the bar and nearly spilling his beer. “There is a beautiful woman who’s about to beat a couple of Germans, you could have next game.”

Nikolai made a disgruntled sound. “I’m done for tonight,” he said, draining the rest of his beer. “You play her.” He had neglected to return to the table with Ivan and the others for a reason. He was tired of the usual posturing and boisterous behaviour already, and they had really only started in on their night. They often made fun of him for calling it early, or not trying to keep up with them, but it was always his turn to feel superior in the morning, when they could hardly open their eyes.

“Ah, come on, Kolyan. I can’t speak German or English. She will look at me like I’m a fool if I try to speak to her.” Ivan relied too heavily on Nikolai when it came to women. He made no effort to learn other languages, putting him at a disadvantage talking to local and tourist alike in Copenhagen, where Danish, English, German and even French were the best bets for communication.

“Maybe she speaks Russian.”

Ivan scoffed. “Unlikely. She looks American.”

Nikolai rolled his eyes, but turned to look, rewarded with the sight of a round ass wearing a pair of blue jeans bent over the table. A brunette, with shiny, slightly curling hair pulled into a high ponytail, wearing a leather jacket. Judging by the looks on the faces of the two blond giants across from her, she was about to clear the table. And she was just Nikolai’s type, by the shape of her.

He ordered two shots of whiskey, and when he turned to look around again, the woman had circled to the other side of the table. Nikolai’s heart stammered to a stop for a moment, bounced against the bottom of his stomach, and lurched back into motion as it landed hard in it’s usual place.

Helena.

She sank the eight ball, grinning like a wolf, her red-painted lips stark contrast against her white teeth. “Sorry, boys. That’s game,” she told them in that pretty English accent of hers. “Better luck next time.”

Nikolai slapped a few krone on the bar and picked up the shot glasses, sidling up to Helena, setting them on the water-stained wooden edges of the pool table. “Lena,” he said, puffing himself up a bit. He had no need to pitch his voice lower now, or pull himself ramrod straight to give him the extra height. He was undoubtedly a man now, with a days worth of stubble on his chin and enough experience with women that he would not turn pink or stammer when she looked at him. She would have to see that. “Have a drink with me.”

Her attention snapped away from the Germans and to him, eyes devastatingly sharp on their first pass, until recognition softened her features with a smile half a heartbeat later. “Kolya?” she asked. “What are you doing here?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she seized him around the neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

Nikolai wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her in a tight circle, breathing in the smell of cigarettes and sweet, spicy perfume. He was a lot taller than she was now, and she fit into his arms better than a dream, with weight and substance. The last time he had seen her, three years that felt like a lifetime ago, they had been the same height.

“I’m a soldier now,” he told her as he set her back down on her feet, his hands lingering on her hips just a moment longer than necessary. He had no desire to let her go, but he did. “Stationed at the embassy. Aunt Talia pulled strings. It’s an easy assignment.”

“They made you cut your hair.” She rubbed a hand over his head, her hand sliding down the back of his neck before she let it fall back to her side. “It’s too bad. The long hair suited you.”

Nikolai nudged her gently, picking the shots up again and handing one to her. “I’ll grow it back once I’m my own man again. For you.”

He loved the way her eyes creased when she smiled. “Good.” They knocked their glasses together and downed them at the same time. “You still smoke?” she asked, inclining her head towards the door. “I was about to step outside.”

“You can smoke in here.” A bluish haze hung in the air above their heads, swirling whenever someone opened the door to admit a fresh gust of air, and many patrons of the bar had lit cigarettes in their hands, smoke drifting upwards with every exhale.

“I know. But it’s loud. I want to catch up.”

He would never argue against taking a moment alone with her. “As you wish.” He gestured for her to walk ahead of him. He could feel Ivan’s eyes on the back of his neck, so he shot a quick, gloating glance over his shoulder at his open-mouthed comrade, and then dashed ahead to open the door for Helena.

They stepped into the cool night air, and Helena pulled a pack of smokes out of her inner jacket pocket and thumbed one up enough that she could pull it out with her mouth, and offered the pack to Nikolai while she dug her lighter out of the front pocket of her jeans.

“You’re here on business?” Nikolai held her wrist steady as he plucked a cigarette from the pack, fingers moving fast enough that he hoped she wouldn’t notice that he took one that had the slightest smudge of red lipstick on it. He might be a man, but he didn’t harbour any illusions about his chances with Helena. An indirect kiss was the best he could hope for.

Lena tucked the pack into her pocket again, nodding. “Yes. Finished up now. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.” She lit her own cigarette and held up the lighter for him, her other hand cupped around the flame to protect it from the chilly breeze that rolled down the well-lit streets.

“That’s too bad. I have a few days off. It would be nice to spend some time with you.” He braced a hand on the wall behind her as he leaned in, meeting her eyes evenly. Did he just imagine that little hitch of breath? The spark of interest in her dark brown eyes?

She looked away, flicking the lighter closed. “I could maybe stick around another day.”

“Maybe another two?” he asked playfully. He was still looming over her, not touching, but close enough to share heat. She didn’t move away.

“We’ll see.” She braced her left elbow against her hand, setting the cigarette to her lips, her eyes everywhere but on him. Perhaps her stance was protective, hesitant, but still… Something had very obviously shifted between them.

Her wedding band was missing.

After three years of pining and chasing any woman that reminded him even a little of Helena, it was a cold-water shock to the system to imagine that the real thing was suddenly attainable. Fate had smiled at him, led them to each other on a chilly autumn night in a city big enough that they could have easily sailed right past each other, not even knowing that the other was near. Nikolai was no longer a child, he was tall and strong like a man worthy of her ought to be, and she was as beautiful as he remembered, sloe-eyed and ageless, and she was not wearing a wedding ring.

Still, his chances balanced like a knife tip on a finger. It would be easy to move to fast or too slow, to ask the wrong question or provide the wrong answer. Helena might still think him too young. He could stumble and show his limited experience, let the facade of confidence slip, allow the knife to tumble, sharp and glittering, to the ground.

He resisted the urge to touch one of the escaped wisps of hair that framed her face, curling in the damp sea air. "Do you ever wear your hair down?" he asked, pivoting away from the inclination to ask about her marriage. Maybe that would be a conversation for a few drinks later.

"Not really," she said, finally looking up at him again, tucking one of those escaped curls behind her ear. "Why?"

"Just wondering. I think I only even saw it down once. It is always business with you. Practicality."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"Certainly not. It is just curiosity."

"Hm. Of course.” The look she gave him was strange, fond but slightly suspicious, like she knew that there was something unsaid underneath his casual tone, but hadn’t quite figured out what. “How is the family?” Her turn to pivot, turning the conversation away from herself and back to predictable waters. “Last time I spoke to Talia she said she was expecting another baby."

Nikolai nodded. "Yes. Due soon. Maybe inside the month. And little Aleksei just turned three. Getting bigger every day. Talking endlessly, asking a thousand questions every day. Wants to know the whys of every little thing. How is your son? Ten now, yes?"

"Yes. He's a smart boy. Very capable. He's an expert marksman already. Hits a dead eye on a moving target eight times out of ten."

"Impressive."

“He’s got no real sense for flying though. Taken him up a few times, but he doesn’t like heights. Poor kid.”

Nikolai laughed, struck, not for the first time, at the absurdity of her being a mother at all. She had patience, but little softness, more a captain training a recruit than a mother teaching her son, more concerned with toughness and survival than anything else. She was a hawk nudging her fledgling out of the nest and hoping he would fly. “He is only ten years old, Lena,” he reminded her. “You cannot expect him to be an expert in all things.”

“Well, I suppose not. He’s a pretty good driver, at least.”

Ivan tumbled out the door, followed by Iosif and Pyotr, the three of them laughing. Like Nikolai, they had gotten their stations in Copenhagen due to connections, but unlike Nikolai, they didn’t take an ounce of it seriously. Nikolai was no nationalist, but he did respect the training. He knew he could outrun, out-lift and out-shoot all three of them. And when it came to thinking, he was many miles ahead as well.

“Kolyan! We thought you left us behind,” Pyotr said. “But no, you are just out here with a beautiful woman.”

“Helena,” Lena supplied, giving them a half-wave with her nearly spent cigarette.

“Pyotr,” he replied, giving her a wide smile. He was tall as Nikolai, and blond and handsome in an annoying, self-aware way. “Ivan, and Iosif,” he added, pointing to the others in turn. “You don’t look Russian.” They were all so surprised when someone could speak more languages then they were born with, as though their own ignorant refusal to learn to communicate was the norm.

“I’m English,” she said. “A friend of Kolya’s family.”

Iosif gave Helena a look that lingered too long everywhere but her face. It made Nikolai want to punch him repeatedly. “You’re very beautiful,” Iosif said bluntly. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She smiled at him, the wolfish one that was all bared teeth and thinly-veiled threat, and dropped her cigarette to the damp ground, stepping on it to ensure it was fully out. “No. I buy my own drinks.”

“Kolyan bought you a drink,” Iosif protested.

“I don’t like you as much as I like him,” Lena said, shrugging. “There are no debts between us.”

Of course she would say so. She didn’t tally favours against friends, no concern for balanced books when the scales were tipped her way. He didn’t operate like that— Couldn’t afford to let favours accumulate interest, liked to collect sooner rather than later, keeping his own ledger clear. But it was staggering, how much he owed her. For the gifts, his flight lessons, the dust up in Leningrad where he had gotten injured, cornered and nearly killed, and she had taken down two men with her boot knife and bare hands. “Not quite,” Nikolai said softly. “My life is yours.” Perhaps it was nothing to her, just another day in a life filled with violence, but he would certainly not forget the sight of her covered in someone else’s blood, rushing to his side the moment both bodies hit the floor.

She shook her head, looking up at him. Her dark eyes looked starry, the way they cast back the orange light of streetlamps and the pink and blue neon sign from across the street, but it was hard to fathom what she was thinking, behind all that reflected colour. “No, Kolya. You owe me nothing.”

Nikolai tossed down his own cigarette and tapped his first knuckle against the bottom of her chin, leaning in a little closer. “It is really not a matter of owing, Helena,” he purred. “It is a matter of knowing where I stand.”

Her lips parted slightly, a hint of colour creeping into her pale cheeks.

“If there is a story there, we’d like to hear it,” Pyotr said smoothly, interrupting the moment with all the grace of a bucking bull smashing through a window. “Come, let Kolyan buy you another drink, tell us why he owes you his life.”

“It is better if I tell it,” Nikolai said. “She will discount her actions, because she is as modest as she is beautiful. But it is up to her if we join you. Tonight she is my general.” He dropped his arm to her shoulders, pulling her in close. She made no move to push him away, and her body fit right in against him like she belonged there. Like she belonged with him.

“They’re your friends, Kolya. Up to you.”

In all truth, he didn’t want to share any of her attention with them, although he did feel a certain pull to show her off some, even though she was not really his. “One drink,” he said. “We won’t stay long.”

They crowded back into the bar, and Helena touched Nikolai's chest lightly. "I'll be right back," she said, taking off for the back corner of the bar, weaving through clumps of other patrons. It was getting busier, and a band was tuning up their instruments on the opposite side of the establishment, the noise already sending ripples through the haze of smoke. Pyotr followed him to the bar while Ivan and Iosif laid claim to one of the few remaining tables.

"You always have good luck with women," Pyotr complained while they waited for the bartender to take notice of them. "You should leave some beautiful girls for the rest of us, no?"

"If you learned another tongue you could speak to some of them yourself," Nikolai said. "You and Ivan should try. Iosif has been learning English. He's fucking terrible at it, but it's worth the effort. He gets dates."

"Your Helena speaks Russian. And German?"

"And French. Maybe more than that. She does business in many countries."

“Business? She does not look like a business woman.”

Nikolai shrugged, burying his irritation under nonchalance. “Perhaps you have a narrow mind.”

Once they had their drinks in hand, they found the other two soldiers, and crammed into the booth with them. With four bulky men in the space, it was hard to imagine squeezing Helena into a proper seat. Nikolai wanted to kiss Ivan and Iosif on the mouth for creating a scenario where he might be able to coax Helena to sit on his lap. They were not good for much, but at least they were good for something.

Helena reappeared at his shoulder, and Nikolai twisted to look up at her, surprised to find that she had taken her hair down from its ponytail. She looked a little wilder that way, a little younger, dark hair loose around her shoulders, curling at the ends.

"Why don't you sit with me?" Pyotr asked, patting his knee invitingly. "Pretty thing like you ought to have a man take care of you, yes?"

Helena gave him an unamused look and hooked her arm around Nikolai's shoulders, dropping onto his thigh without any further ceremony. Nikolai wrapped his arm around her waist happily, his big hand sitting on the junction between her hip and thigh. He resisted the urge to dig his fingers in and feel her properly. "Don't get any ideas, Kolya," she told him, an attempt to be stern, although he wasn't sure either of them really believed that she meant it. "I'm far too old."

"Not so," Nikolai said, hoping honesty would help his case. "I've been with older women than you." He preferred women to girls his own age.

Surprise flickered across her face. She was rarely surprised, but the expression suited her, her soft red lips parting slightly, her beautiful eyes, usually half closed, opened wide. Ivan and Iosif were laughing, Iosif jostling Pyotr with his elbow for getting rejected so definitively.

Nikolai pressed his advantage, leaning in close, his words only for her. "Perhaps you will tell me later why you have no ring on your finger."

She turned her head slightly. They were so close that their noses almost brushed. "Kolya..."

"Lena," he returned, nudging the tip of his nose against hers, satisfaction pooling in his belly at the was she inhaled, like she thought he was going to try to kiss her. And then he turned away, picking up his beer and nudging hers toward the corner of the table slightly.

Yes, things had certainly shifted between them.

There was something gratifying about having her there, and not just because her warm body was pressed close to his, but to have someone to exchange a look with when Pyotr said something out of touch, or when Ivan made a terrible joke. They tended to think alike, him and his sparrowhawk, and every time they looked at each other it was confirmation of the chemistry that Nikolai had long been painfully aware of, and Lena was just beginning to realize.

When she finished her beer, she stood up, heading outside for another cigarette. She didn’t like to smoke indoors— Nikolai suspected it was more a reason to take a step outside to gather her thoughts than it was for any type of propriety. Pyotr had offered her two as they sat around the table, and she had politely declined each time.

“I won’t be back,” he told the others, grinning wolfishly at the sour look on Pyotr’s face. “Try not to get into too much trouble without me. You will not be able to talk your way out of it.”

He found Lena around the corner, tucked into an alley to get out of the wind. The weather had a habit of shifting without warning, and there was a smell of ozone in the air, promising rain, although the sky above them was still dark and clear.

She looked at him, but didn’t speak, simply held out her pack of cigarettes to offer him one. He lit it with his own lighter this time, nodding his thanks rather than breaking the silence. If she had something on her mind, it would be better to wait her out. So he smoked, standing a step away, watching her. He could never get tired of looking at her anyway.

Finally, she spoke, an accusation, but delivered lightly. “You’ve been flirting.”

He nodded. The allegations were more than true. He was only glad that she could not charge him for the thoughts he’d indulged in, not simply that evening, but for a very long time. “I have.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you.”

She dropped her spent cigarette to the ground, frowning. "Kolya, you're too young. You should be with someone your own age."

Nikolai dropped his own cigarette and threw caution away as well, stepping forward, crowding her up against the rough brick, and cupped her face, allowing all the admiration and want that he'd tried to bury for years to rise to the surface. "I am nearly twenty. I am a soldier. Old enough to die for my country, but not old enough to want to make love to a beautiful woman I respect and adore?"

She gripped his wrists, but didn't pull his hands away. "I--"

"No. Even before you were not happy. You deserve more, from a man who will do anything for you. Let me be that man, Lena. At least for a day or two, hm?" He pressed his lips to hers and drew back, searching her eyes for a reaction. Her grip on his wrists loosened and fell away, her palms settling against his chest instead. Not pushing him away, but not pulling him closer either.

They looked at each other for a long moment, indecision writ in bold script across her face. Good sense would have her send him away, but it was not a night where good sense reigned supreme. They were alone, in a world that had shrank to fit just the two of them, everything else forgotten and distant.

Her eyes dropped from his and settled on his mouth. "Oh fuck it," she said, and they crashed together desperately, her hands gripping his shirt.

Heat blazed in his chest, like a sputtering engine roaring to life. She opened up to him without him having to do any prodding, he could taste smoke and the clean burn of alcohol on her tongue as it moved against his. This was passion, not the clumsy, anxious pawing between two inexperienced people, like he was more used to, but the inevitable reaction of two people who knew exactly what they wanted. He threaded his fingers through her silky hair, angling her head slightly so he could deepen the kiss the slightest bit more, licking eagerly into her mouth. She made a soft sound, arms twining around his neck so she could press her body closer to his. He let his own hands settle on her waist. As much as he wanted to touch every inch of her, he didn't want to come across as too excitable or get carried away by his desire. He needed to make Helena melt first. His own pleasure was a guarantee. Even if she stopped him there, he had held and touched and kissed her now, and he had come many times to paltry imaginings of less.

Lena broke them apart, breathing hard, her dark eyes bright and slightly unfocused, like she had never been kissed like that. Like his kiss had left her more unsteady than the drinks, her red lipstick smeared across her mouth. “I’m staying close by,” she told him, running her thumb across the corner of his mouth, coming away with more red pigment. “Do you want—”

He cut her off with another kiss. He didn’t give a fuck if there was lipstick staining his own mouth. It was just evidence that she really had kissed him. “If you’re asking if I want to get out of here, the answer is yes.”

“Should you tell your friends?”

“No. I make it a habit to leave without saying goodbye. Especially if a beautiful woman has been sitting in my lap all evening.” He grinned, catching her hand as he stepped back. “Where are you staying?”

They walked to her hotel slowly, Nikolai stopping to kiss her at every opportunity, a little worried that she might, at any moment, come to her senses and send him on his way. He had wanted her so badly for so long, he did not wish to stop until they had tangled up together in bed, and perhaps not even then. Perhaps he could convince her to spend more time with him. Perhaps when he had served his time in the army he would be able to follow her wherever she went.

It would likely take some convincing, but he was up to the task. In that moment, he was up to any task.

She unlocked the door to her hotel room, her expression turning pensive. "I'm not divorced yet, we’re just separated for now. Maybe this is--"

"Lena, I am not asking you for the rest of your life." He didn't add that he would take it, if she offered it to him-- That he would take anything she offered him, no matter how big or small. "I only want to show you what you mean to me."

She pushed the door open to let him in. "I don't-- I don't even know if we will get divorced."

"I don't care." He did. He cared a lot, but if he said that aloud she would halt things, tell him it was for his own good.

"Of course not. It's just a crush you want to work out of your system, right?" She smiled wryly, shedding her leather jacket and tossing it over a chair.

"Sure." He tossed his own jacket down on top of hers and hauled her back into his arms. "Do you want to talk about this man that never deserved you? Or do you want to forget him?" He rubbed his thumb over the jagged scar on her arm, where it cut her RAF tattoo in half, his touch following it up to where it disappeared under her rolled up t-shirt sleeve and back down again.

She drew in a shaky breath, as unsure as Nikolai had ever seen her. "He cheated on me. Said it was because I was gone so much. Guess I can’t blame him for that. Just never was able to stay home. Too much to do. Not built for domesticity.”

“You cannot help being what you are,” Nikolai said.

Lena laughed lightly and wound her arms around his waist, her hands slipping under his shirt and curling against his back. “Are you going to tell me what I am, Kolya?” she asked, tilting her head back to look at him.

“A sparrowhawk. A fierce little hunting bird. A warrior, perhaps, a traveller, certainly. Never the kind of woman that belongs tucked away in a kitchen somewhere. Your husband is a fool if he cannot appreciate you as you were made to be.”

“He wants to work it out,” she warned him. “We've got so much tangled up together it might be the only thing that makes sense."

“Perhaps. Perhaps if you must, you should allow him to chase his lesser women, so that you can spend your time with a better man.” He grinned at her and moved in for another kiss. He had said everything that needed saying, laid out what cards he thought would aid him, and kept the rest tucked away for later. She all but melted in his arms, lips parting reflexively for him.

This time, he made no effort to restrain himself, letting his hands roam, moaning into her mouth when he finally got a handful of her backside, fingers gripping a little too tight from enthusiasm. What curves she had were incidental, from her broad-hipped build rather than much softness— Even motherhood had granted very little softness to Lena, she was packed muscle and callouses and fire, totally unlike any of the pale imitations he had found himself chasing over the past few years. Lena would always be a soldier first, it would take some effort to remind her that she was a woman too.

Nikolai stepped forward, making Lena move backwards until her knees hit the bed, and broke the kiss so he could kiss down her neck, sucking a little too hard just below her ear, making her hiss. She gripped the collar of his shirt firmly, hauling him back a bit. “Easy,” she said, laughing. “Leave the hickies for the college girls, Kolya.”

He flushed pink, although the embarrassment from his mistake did nothing to dampen the mood, blessedly. “Sorry,” he said, knocking his forehead against hers. “You’re very hot.”

Lena grinned in response and tugged his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side. She ran her hands over his chest, eyes following hungrily. “So are you.”

Nikolai had been hard since they started kissing outside the bar, but her words, somehow all the more genuine delivered in her own tongue, coupled with the look she gave him made him twitch, blood fully abandoning his head to travel south. He pulled her shirt off too, and kissed down her chest, cheering internally that he managed to unhook her bra on the first attempt, rather than struggling with the clasp like a schoolboy.

Her nails grazed over his head encouragingly when he reached her small breasts, lapping his tongue across one nipple and palming the other. She made a breathy sound, and then a groan when he tested his teeth against the sensitive nub. He groaned too, some primal part of him getting off on the fact that he was making her feel good, that she was letting him touch her, that she was enjoying the feeling of his hands and lips and tongue and teeth on her skin. He felt twenty feet tall.

Lena reached for his belt, undoing the buckle before his syrupy-slow thoughts could catch up. He broke away from her breast and caught her wrists before she could do more than undo the top button of his jeans. He was fairly sure he would spill all over her fingers if she put her hands on him. “Impatient,” he chided her, pushing her onto the bed. He sank to his knees, positioning his body between her thighs. “Ladies first.”

Her laugh was always music to his ears, but it was honey sweet now, pooling somewhere in his chest as he cut her off with another kiss. He couldn’t risk her seeing the feeling in his eyes— He knew it was too close to love, that she would realize that this meant more to him than it did to her, and she would send him away to protect him.

He ducked his head and sank back on his haunches, pulling one of her boots into his lap so he could undo the laces and pull it free. She leaned back on her elbows to watch him, her head tipped to the side thoughtfully. Her gaze burned, but he didn’t look up until he had set both boots to the side, sliding his hands up her firm thighs to the waistband of her jeans. “These need to come off now.”

“Now who’s impatient?” she asked teasingly, but she pitched her hips up so he could peel the denim off of her legs anyway, the heat in her eyes undeniable.

Nikolai ran his hands up her legs reverently, dropping a kiss on the inside of her knee, torn as ever between restraint and enthusiasm. He pushed her legs open a little wider, attention fixed on her cotton-clad cunt.

Lena gave him a sly, fox-like smile. "You want to taste me?" She asked, hooking her thumbs through the waistband of her panties.

"More than anything," he breathed.

"Then get to it, soldier," she said, pushing them down.

"Yes ma'am." Nikolai pulled them the rest of the way off, and tried to be subtle about shoving the (wet!) cotton in his pocket. She probably saw, but she was gracious enough to not mention it. He wasted no more time, pulling her to the edge of the bed as he peppered the inside of her thighs with kisses, eyes focused on her pretty pussy, framed by slick darkened curls. His cock throbbed as he dipped his head down, licking a broad path along her slit, groaning at the heady taste of her. He threw one of her lean legs over his shoulder and fixed his mouth to her clit, lapping his tongue across it, gripping tightly to her hips when they bucked up against him. A moan fell from Helena's mouth, prompting him to repeat the movement.

He found a rhythm quickly, spurred on by her gasped instructions, or her hand nudging his head into just the right position. He had found that the benefit sleeping with older women was that they weren’t shy about asking for what they wanted, but Helena took it a step further and simply took, grinding against his tongue, using the leg over his shoulder to pull him closer, the other planted on his thigh so she could push him just slightly away, reminding him to breathe. As if that was important, when the sharp taste of her was heavy on his tongue and her moans were thick in the air.

“Two fingers,” Lena gasped, nudging him back slightly to make sure he was listening. “Inside, please.”

Nikolai obeyed, leaning back to watch her face, replacing his tongue with his thumb. Her soaked cunt pulsed around his fingers, her hips canting toward his touch desperately. He curled his fingers just so, and she keened, fisting the sheets as if she were worried that she would levitate off the bed and away from his hands. “Will you come for me?” he purred. “You look so beautiful. Taste so sweet.”

His words made her gush, her walls clenching tight around him. “Fuck— Kolya!” Her whole body shuddered, pulling taut, tension snapping when he suctioned his mouth to her swollen clit once more, moaning against her as she came, as if her pleasure was his own. It nearly was. He was so hard, and his jeans so tight that he could imagine coming just from the pressure and the sweet sounds she made, although he tried not to think about that.

She unhooked her leg from his shoulder and pushed herself into a seated position, cupping his jaw to pull him closer. “You’re pretty good at that,” she panted, pressing a kiss to his mouth, unphased by the slick that coated the lower half of his face.

Nikolai got to his feet, letting his teeth graze against her bottom lip before he straightened up fully, separating reluctantly so he could kick off his boots and finally rid himself of the rest of his clothes. “I’m good at lots of things,” he promised.

Helena moved toward the head of the mattress, watching him, face flushed pink high on her cheekbones and hair a mess already. Her dark eyes dipped down his chest, thighs pressing together when he finally freed his cock. He wanted to imprint the image of her looking at him like that on the back of his eyelids, so he could see it every time he blinked for the rest of his life. Her dark eyes were hot and hungry, for him. That morning, this was a distant, far off fantasy that lingered in the back of his mind, and now she was here, laying naked before him, every inch of her lean, muscular, scarred up body on display, and she wanted him.

“Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to come over here and show me what else you’re good at?” she asked.

“I am just appreciating the view,” he laughed, climbing onto the bed beside her. “It’s one I’d very much like to remember.”

“Flatterer,” she accused, curling into his arms for another kiss.

He hummed against her mouth, agreeing, pulling her on top of him, legs on either side of his waist. He was glad she was as eager to lock lips as he was— He could never get tired of the spit-slicked slide of her mouth against his, the swipe of her tongue against his own, like she was as desperate to devour him as he was her. He reached around her hips to take himself in hand, precum easing the glide of his first few rough, desperate strokes.

“Koyla,” she whined against his mouth, angling her hips back.

“You want me?” he asked, tapping the head of his cock against her core, grinning when she inched backward, chasing it when he pulled back again.

“Yes,” she panted. “Please.”

Who was he to deny her? He rubbed himself against her dripping folds again, and she pitched herself backward, taking him to the hilt in one smooth movement. He groaned, fighting off the urge to come just like that, at the first molten clench of her cunt around him, fingers digging into her hips to hold her still while he adjusted.

Lena fought his grip, grinding her clit down against him, desperate for friction and movement. Nikolai lost the battle shamefully quick, an orgasm pulsing through him before he could do more than pant out her name, holding her down against him as he came inside her, eyes screwed tight.

He pulled in a shuddering breath, wincing. “Shit. Sorry.”

Lena just laughed, not an ounce of judgment or disappointment in the sound. “You need a minute?” she asked, pushing back up onto her knees, their hips still pressed flush together. Her cunt pulsed around him, and, blessedly, his cock responded with enthusiasm, staying hard. She rocked back and forth, hands braced against his chest as she fucked herself slowly on him, drawing each movement out excruciatingly slow, a teasing smile on her lips. She squeezed around him again, and he could help but groan, rutting up into her reflexively.

“No. No, I will keep going. Sorry.” He pulled her down against his chest and rolled them so that he was on top. Coming too early once was bad enough, he couldn’t risk it happening a second time. He folded her legs up and thrust into her slow, making sure that she felt every inch of him drag across that spongy, sensitive spot that he had found with his fingers earlier.

Lena hooked her legs around his waist, pressing her palms against the headboard to give herself some leverage to meet his movements, encouraging him to pick up his pace. He followed her cue, pistoning into her soaked pussy harder and faster, his balls slapping against her ass, coupling with the wet sound of his cock moving in and out of her and the little whimpers that left her lips with every thrust. He dropped down to his forearms, feeling tension building inside him again, trying to keep his reaction in check, and the change in angle made her cry out. She let go of the headboard and clung to his shoulders instead, burying her face against his neck.

“Kolya,” she gasped into his ear. “I’m close.”

He knew that the best thing he could do was keep to the same rhythm, so he continued the relentless pace, shifting his wieght to one arm so he could reach between them, rubbing a tight circle around her clit. He legs squeezed tight around him, her cunt fluttering around his cock. She bit down on his shoulder, groaning against his skin, nails digging into his back. His own release came quickly, the tension snapping as he spilled inside her for the second time. He rutted against her until her cunt relented, loosening around him.

“Fuck,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers, breathing hard. “You’re so beautiful. Next time I need to see your face, yes?”

That teasing, fox-like grin returned. “Next time?”

“Give me, five, ten minutes,” he panted. “I’m good for it.”

She laughed, pushing him over onto the bed and curling into him, her head on his shoulder, her legs tangled up with his. She made a soft, contented noise, running her fingers through the sweaty curls of hair on his chest, her expression turning dazed and thoughtful as she relaxed in his arms. He smoothed her hair back from her face, kissing the top of her head affectionately.

"You flown a helo yet?” she asked. “I could take you up tomorrow, if you want. There’s one on the ship." The change of subject was abrupt, but he knew her well enough to recognize her tactics when she got too close to an emotion.

"I would like that.”

“Good. Me too.”

Nikolai sighed, tilting Lena’s chin up for another proper kiss. He would spend every moment he could by her side, for as long as she would let him, in the air or on solid ground. “Will you be in town again soon?” he asked hopefully.

“I haven’t even left yet,” she said, laughing.

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

She bit her lip, cheeks turning pinker, her eyes filled with something shining and hopeful and sweet, something that settled under his ribs, curling up in his chest and purring like a contented cat. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Next time, stay longer.”

“I will,” she promised. “And yes, soon.”

He didn’t expect more than that. Couldn’t, knowing her. But it was enough.

Maybe Copenhagen wasn’t so bad after all.

#call of duty modern warfare #cod fanfic #x OC #Nikolai x OC #Nikolai mw #here be smut #MDNI #Sparrowverse #I can't look at this anymore or I will go insane #Please let me know if you need more content warnings at the beginning #This is the first actual sex scene I've posted and I hope it's appropriately sexy

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usafphantom2 · 5 months ago

Text

Introducing F-21: The Latest 4th Generation Fighter Plane from Lockheed Martin

Lockheed Martin F-21

Taking its game forward, Lockheed Martin has proposed an improved version of the popular F-16 at Aero India 2019 called the F-21 and claims it will be the most advanced, 4th generation Fighter Aircraft in the world.

Lockheed Martin had earlier offered its F-16 has claimed that the F-21 will be specifically configured for the Indian Air Force and will strengthen India’s path to an advanced airpower future.

An option for new production, the F-21 will have a slew of the latest state of the art technological advancements and improvements that include a new radar system, stealth detection capabilities, and electronics design that add a lot of value to the already iconic aircraft.

F-21 will be based on a proven platform, with a new branding

TATA-Lockheed Martin F-21

“The F-21 is different, inside and out,” said Vivek Lall, vice president of Strategy and Business Development for Lockheed Martin Aeronautics.

Lockheed Martin has long said it plans to shift its F-16 production lines to India in cooperation with Tata. It has gone so far as to suggest it could establish an F-16 production line in the country regardless of whether it wins the MRCA deal or not.

For years, Lockheed Martin has been lobbying India for MMRCA contract in excess of 100 fighter jets. India traditionally bought its defence technology from and Russia, but recently, it has been buying American military technology, including the P-8 Poseidon and AH-64 Apache attack helicopter.

Now that there is a difficult competition between Lockheed Martin’s F-16, Boeing’s F/A-18E/F Super Hornet, the Swedish Gripen, French Rafale, European Eurofighter Typhoon, and Russian MiG-35. Lockheed Martin had to increase the stakes.

F-21 will be nimble, carry decent ordnance, and have lower costs to maintain

Weapon Systems of Lockheed Martin F-21

The F-21 will incorporate an upgraded mission computer, a state of the art avionics and includes multi-function displays. With a Central, Pedestal Display will help improve the crew’s situational awareness through Real-Time processing of the flight data.

In addition, the F-21 will also come with an upgradable display generator, a link-16 data link, HF/UHH/VHF multiple frequency radio communication support as well as IFF (identification friend or foe) enhancements.

The three original computers will be replaced with a single modular mission computer which provides far higher computing power to the avionics and weapons systems in addition to providing accurate targeting, air to air strike performances and information capabilities.

According to Lockheed Martin, the F-21 will be capable of providing affordable and scalable advanced combat capabilities through its Active Electronically Scanned Array radar. The Central Pedestal Display also provides a high-resolution display with colour maps, zoom functionality and Night vision systems, thereby helping to keep the aircraft in an enhanced state of Battle Awareness.

The Aircraft will also be capable of integration with the FLIR laser system and navigation as well as reconnaissance pods. The F-21 is also upgraded with state of the art threat warning systems, jammers, electronic countermeasure equipment pods and chaff and infrared flare dispensers to take care of complex and varied battlefield situations.

What will be the future of F-21?

As of now, the F-21 is just a concept. The F-21 will be tailor-made to meet the requirements of the Indian Airforce and will be a 4.5+ generation fighter if the company wins the estimated $18-billion order for the 115 planes.

Officially known as the “Fighting Falcon” commonly known as the Viper by pilots and crew, The F-16 is one of the most renowned and battle-tested supersonic fighter aircraft in the world. This single engine, multirole aircraft developed by Lockheed Martin (formerly General Dynamics), was developed originally for the United States Air Force and is now regarded as the most successful all-weather multirole fighter aircraft.

Entering into production almost four decades back in 1976, more than 4500 F-16 aircraft have been built and although no more bought by the United States Air Force, improved versions are being built for various export customers.

@defenseaviation.com

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iveneverplayedmegaman · 8 months ago

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Lots of people on the poll talking about robot ids going hand in hand with how humans/ companies use them, which is really interesting! It’s cool seeing how human society interacts/ reacts to advanced robots. But I mostly think about this as how a robot interacts with human society not vice versa. I’m just sitting over here like, in the downtime between games and end of the world bullshit, could a robot rent a car? Or buy real estate? Could they travel between countries for work or pleasure? Just what kind of bureaucracy would they have to jump through. Or would they not even have the autonomy to make those decisions for themselves and be dragged from place to place by their employers as if they’re “luggage”. Cuz idk the difference between whether robotics (and human society’s perception and laws regarding inorganic life) has advanced enough to even require identification and paperwork out of the decisions made by an advanced robot really seems like something to me. I’m a bit tired so I don’t know if this makes sense, but yeah it gets me thinking a bit. I do find it interesting that so many people have been calling attention to robotic identification being used to track, judge, and control the lives of robots though. Seeing really interesting results 👍

#rambling

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paganminiskirt · 2 years ago

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I love reading your analyzing of Coyle. I wondered if you had any thoughts on his sexuality? (I mean I have a damn spread sheet myself, but you're so much better at words and really great at psychoanalyzing lol). I've described him as being "the straightest gay man I've ever seen" to a few people now and eventually the "get" it.

(CW: discussions of canon typical sexual and racial violence, slavery, internalized homophobia, domestic violence and femicide. One of the linked videos also discusses fascism using disturbing transphobic rhetoric as an example.)

Thank you for your kind words, it’s really nice to know my ramblings are resonating with someone! Discussion should be allowed to emerge naturally, but I think much of the debate that arose from the revelation of Coyle’s character was removed from the context of the oppressed groups being commented on by the text. I say that mainly in reference to people of color, since the KKK represents a cultural trauma which is inextricably attached to blackness, but the statement applies to queer people as well. That very Klan was almost extinguished in the 1870s until it was revitalized half a century later by a film, of all things: media is obviously important. There’s much more that can be, and to an extent needs to be, said about this story beyond rehashing “it is/is not okay to hornypost about this” ad nauseam.

So let’s get this out of the way: I think Coyle was deliberately being written as queer. The ethics of incorporating LGBT characters in a setting so obsessed with the grotesque are questionable (you can read more perspectives on that here and here,) but I think there was intention behind the decision to depict him this way, whether it's "good representation" or not.

One of his defining traits is that he habitually deploys lewd, effeminate language to intimidate and dehumanize his victims: “alluring piglet,” “honey,” “beautiful/sexy b*tch,” “darling,” “sweet, ripe young things" and the like. You could argue that is solely a degradation tactic rather than a direct indicator of his sexual preference, and he does seem to do it primarily to scare you. But a big part of the horror in Kill the Snitch is that Coyle is very unembarrassed about how much pleasure he gets out of subjecting you to that degradation. (“You lick my boot, maybe I let you up.”) The innuendo he taunts the Reagents with is unaffected by their gender presentation, and The Snitch is a fixed character presented as a cis man who Coyle treats with just as much aggressive leeriness. From there, it's difficult to interpret him as straight.

And since Coyle is one of the main villains of the game, I think I would be remiss if I argued that his bi/pansexuality is a thematically insignificant byproduct of his broader characterization as a sadist. That conclusion certainly presents itself: even if his queerness is loudly implied, it isn’t commented on directly by the text the way other aspects of his character are, like racism and uxoricide. The closest we get to a clear, unmistakable identification of his sexuality comes in the form of his aforementioned attitude towards The Snitch.

While the Reagents are interchangeable grunts, The Oogie Boogie Man Snitch is Coyle's own prisoner, and as such we witness him compound the usual routine of sexualized cruelty with repeated assertions of possession, calling him things like “toy” “mine” and “property” to emphasize a sense of ownership. He comes completely undone when the Reagents electrocute him to death, exploding into thwarted, miserable rage like a kid watching their sandcastle get kicked to shit (“No! FUCKING NO! He was mine!”) and throwing out all of his beliefs at once as this jumbled, fascistic mess; “anarchist pinko fucks” this and “country’s going to shit” that.

Perhaps the most telling line about their dynamic is this one: “Jesus Christ you look like my second wife, you know that? Spittin' image. Woman got me 'bout as hot as Missouri asphalt.” The only time we see how Coyle interacts with people on an even playing field is in the files, when it’s mentioned that he killed two of his fellow soldiers when serving in the army & brutalized a murkoff agent interviewing him. The social dominance he has over people like The Snitch and his wives seems to be the only way he’s capable of conducting interpersonal relationships on a vaguely emotional level. Otherization, fuckability, and the need for corrective shame/subordination are all intertwined in Coyle's head, muddling together to form his notion of natural hierarchy: one which is incoherent, self-serving, and more about appearances than anything else. (“I know what you did. I just need to hear you say it.”)

And the importance placed on appearances isn’t just something that Leland happens to believe. In the era when this game takes place, the electric chair was at peak popularity as a form of “humane” capital punishment: in reality, it was a callous technological repackaging of the methods of execution which came before it, namely the (distinctly racialized) hanging/lynching. These methods were designed to reinforce social hierarchy by staging voyeuristic displays of dehumanization, and were levied with particular barbarism against people of color. There’s a catalog of horror stories I could insert here about white supremacy and the electric chair, but that’s another post entirely. What I want to establish is that:

A. It's easy to interpret The Snitch’s execution (and the Reagent’s forced participation in it) as a symbolic enforcement of Murkoff’s construction of social dominance, akin to capital punishment or lynching/state sponsored terrorism. B. Men like Coyle were categorically responsible for orchestrating executions like the one in the game, and the fact that he gets so angry and addled about it even though he’s ostensibly a follower of their doctrine speaks to the nature of his ideology.

Though a lot of real world topics get touched on by Coyle's dialogue, it certainly isn’t 100% down-to-earth social critique. Many of his lines invite you to laugh at him (“It's hurtful when you disrespect the badge. I have feelings, too”/”Ain't you slicker'n a can of mashed assholes”) and his crimes themselves are, at times, overblown and ridiculous. He's a caricature of institutional violence and injustice, not a straight faced example of it. No, the realistic part of Coyle’s storyline is how the power structures of 1950s America both protected him from consequences and deliberately encouraged him to degenerate. I’ve alluded to this before: it’s one of my favorite things about Trials.

He was sent to military school because of his violent tendencies and joined the marines to avoid investigation after killing his first wife, but once he had the Police Department to shield him his behavior escalated in severity so much so that it attracted the attention of an even worse organization. The process was Military School → Ku Klux Klan → Marines → Police Department → Murkoff. This facet of the story was always there, but the newly released comic really hammers in the point, that Coyle - infantile, nonsensical, vulgarly abusive and utterly unworthy of authority - was never a barely tolerated outlier or a well kept secret within the systems he budded up from. The files directly attach his klan involvement to police work even as he's described as a “good cop:” because there were no good cops in Blackwell, because good cops aren’t real. US Law Enforcement can be traced back to early southern slave patrols, they've had a handshake agreement with the Klan for decades, and you need look no further than the recent Minneapolis Police Department exposé to see how they operate in the modern world - and this game is set sixty years before 2023. Horrifying, yeah?

Understanding cops themselves to be fundamentally immoral and unjust, by the time we meet him in the game, Coyle isn’t even a competent cop in terms of his willingness to enact unjust aims. Yes he is brutal, yes he is racist, yes he clings to the childish, cowardly belief in immutable superiority found in actual modern fascists - but the ouroboros of psychosexual issues driving him to behave the way he does take precedence over his purported devotion to any belief system, to such a degree that he isn’t even acting in explicit defense of an institution anymore. That job, to defend the current institution, is what the Reagents are being trained for: the same ones he deems subhuman and, most tellingly, “perverted.”

One thing that makes Coyle’s whole presence in Kill The Snitch so surreal and disorienting is how manufactured and aimless his job as The Snitch’s defender really is. The man play acts an interrogation of someone who will never see trial, referencing vice squads, courts and elections that are nowhere to be found in the Sinyala facility - even though a different line of his mentions how they “don’t favor courts in these parts.” So, he’s directly contradicting himself. When the Snitch dies, he goes “NO! NO! I'll never... God DAMNIT,” not even finishing his own sentence about what it is he apparently needed The Snitch for.

The man obviously thinks otherwise, but he’s a make-believe cop, a test dummy for trainees to be pitted against ala shencomix’s professional hater. Though nowhere near as disenfranchised, Coyle is a puppet in Murkoff’s trials as much as the Reagents are, all his nasty, grandiose rhetoric ultimately amounting to hot air: and unlike the Reagents, this does not end with him being reborn. He lacks the overarching purpose of eventual service to a greater cause that they have.

And therein lies the self-destroying prophecy inherent to his understanding of reality. You can argue that Coyle is aware (subconsciously or otherwise) that there exists the potential for him to be otherized, and by extension subordinated, for an immutable part of himself which is directly attached to his sexuality and masculinity. I’d be surprised if he wasn't, considering how loudly the prejudices of the culture he arose from are relayed to the audience. The fear that comes from that knowledge gives birth to an obsession with categorism, shame, and “justice:” which he rationalizes as an immutable aspect of reality by connecting it with the natural phenomenon of lightning. (“I used to stand in a storm and watch the lightning strike the plains and I would think, "well there you go." That's justice. Sometimes the finger of God reaches down and touches you. But you never know which finger it is you're gonna get.”)

This leads to violence which he is constantly rewarded for: and because it’s the only viable outlet he has for exercising those very issues which he was trying to avoid confronting in the first place… he overindulges. Loses all interest in presenting the rhetoric coherently, in favor of chasing the immediate release that cruelty provides with ever-increasing vigor. (Funny how he calls the Reagents “dope addicted” too. Mr. Sony VPL strikes again!)

But in the end, Coyle is worthless. He’s a tool, designed to be overcome. It's a similarly symbolic, utilitarian role to that of The Snitch, which potentially feeds into his perverse sense of protectiveness over him, but the people who are coming out the other end of this with a job to do in the real world are the Reagents. People he looks down on, people he terrorizes, people he’s so desperate to bend to his will. He’s like... white chauvinism revealed as senseless, small and disgusting, condemned to chase its own tail & buckle under its own weight no matter how hard it shakes it's fist at the sky.

And in a series so fixated on delusion and the disintegration of the self, the nugget of reality within that was thrilling to see on screen. 10/10, would cringe at again.

#theartof-p #leland coyle #officer coyle #outlast trials #murkoff corporation #I’m feeling a need to include a “the north is awful too” caveat #but I recently found out some relatives had a cross burned on their lawn.#in the urban North. in the 80s.#so it’s probably just my own biases speaking lmao #i’m p sure it doesn’t sound like I’m singling out the rural south here but lmk if you think otherwise #lmk whatever you have to say #anyways. Long live Leland Coyle’s hideous deplorable ass!!!

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