#and even with that i only have 130 hours)

[jklpopcorn]

crying and sobbing i was supposed to draw doodles of my ocs but instead all there is is Siffrin

they're so shaped i have to draw them

also

100% :)

[ranger-kellyn]

being "good" at your job is such a fucking crock what do you mean i get even MORE WORK AS A RESULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[heyitslapis]

its times like this when i really wish i had an SO's shoulder to cry on

Because I think i factrued/sprained my foot the other day it happened wednesday but its still pretty swollen and pops when i try to walk on it without hobbling. i know i signed up for health insurance through work. i wrote down the insurance company name as Bayside and I have my personal insurance id number but the card never came in/got lost in the mail (and i already called for one replacement that never came so idk if theyll send me a third) so i cant confirm the insurance name nor call them, but i need to because ive called/visited 5 health care facilities around me and NONE of them have even heard of Bayside. So im calling the phone number that my manager provided me with telling me that was the insurance company. I keep calling the number (and mind you ive called them before to try to get a second insurance card sent to me but that was in like April) and i get that its saturday but theres no answer and the stupid automated machine wont let me leave a voicemail. the automated answering voice on the phone also says that theyre called National Benefit Plans by SafetyNet and google says the phone number im using belongs to National Benefit Plans out in San Antonio Tx (i live no where near there). I found National Benefit Plans' website on SafetyNetPlus dot com but National Benefit Plans doesnt have their own website, just through SafetyNet, and also the SafetyNet website says on a side panel that "this is NOT insurance" and instead keeps saying "health benefits" instead so idk what the fuck ive been paying for for the last 6 months tbh and im having an emotional breakdown bc i dont want to fuck my foot up for life just cause i couldnt figure out my health insurance/benefits shit

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[neonseaslugs]

FINISHED THE CATALOG

[minihotdog]

Have You Seen My Boyfriend?

Summary: You see Simon in the mask for the first time

C/W: angst (?)

A/N: I've been wanting to write this fic for a while now and I didn't really know what to do with it BUT @celestialwhoree wrote this lovely fic right here and it lit a fire under my ass. I also don't think Simon would wear his mask outside of combat-active areas sooo I threw that out the window to make this work.

Word Count: 723

He didn’t even remember that he still had that damn balaclava on when they touched down on the runway. Months had gone by and eventually, as it always did, it began to feel like a second skin.

He never let you see him with it on either. Simon made sure to keep Ghost on the field and Simon at home. He’d watched countless men throughout his career take work home with them and the damage it left on everyone they touched. He wasn’t perfect. He had his own struggles in disconnecting from the adrenaline and danger, but he’d been meticulous so far.

Since you came into his life the balaclava stayed in his ready-to-go bag that you weren’t allowed to touch.

The bulk of the unit grabs their bags and heads towards the hangar as fast as they can, happy to be freed from the C-130 they’d been cramped into like sardines for hours. Their families wait for them, cheering as they get closer.

Simon knew you didn’t like crowds and messaged you to meet him at the compound instead, he’d instructed a private to let you inside the barrack’s common area to wait for him.

You were sitting on an ugly old brown couch fidgeting with your fingers. He’d been gone for months and your excitement to have him back home was mixing with the anxiety of being in this environment that didn’t feel right for you to be in. You wondered if he’d get in trouble for letting you be there.

At some point, you get on your feet and begin pacing away from the door in case they barge in to take you away for being in a restricted area unsupervised.

Simon detours to throw his bags in his office before heading towards the common area. His weapon and clips are long gone, turned into the armory waiting for his next embarkment. His vest is still snug on his frame, his skeleton-printed gloves still donned with months of sweat and grime soaked into the fabric, and his forgotten balaclava sticking to him absentmindedly.

You jump out of your skin in fear when the door swings open and spin around on your heels to meet your awaiting demise. Your nerves don’t subside when a giant man steps into the room. All the air suddenly gets sucked out.

He’s covered head to toe and the only thing your eyes can focus on is the skull print on his face. He closes the door behind him, his eyes not leaving yours.

You swallow harshly, trying to force words out. Or do anything to save yourself.

“Have you seen my boyfriend?” You squeak out. You watch the mask move over his features and you avoid his eyes at all costs. The overcast from the eyeholes makes them look like black holes.

“Y/n,” He breathes out while taking a step closer. You swear to yourself he almost sounds like your Simon but the alarm bells continue going off at the sight of him. You take a step back and in his exhausted state, it finally clicks. His eyes close and his eyebrows furrow in disbelief. He looks over you taking in your reluctance and the fear coursing through you.

Fuckin’ Hell

He reaches up slowly to not scare you. His fingers pull at the fabric at the top of his head slowly pulling the balaclava off to reveal his all-to-familiar face, his messy blond locs sticking out in every direction.

“Jesus, Simon!” You gasp, running to him and banging on his chest. “You scared the shit out of me! What the fuck!”

He wraps his arms around you, pinning you to his chest. You writhe in his arms trying to escape.

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to.”

You look up into his sad chocolate brown eyes now freed from the darkness that hid them before. “I never wanted you to see that, doll. That isn’t me, I promise.” His voice comes out soft and full of regret.

He yanks his gloves off letting them fall to the ground so he can lace his fingers in your hair. He holds you against his chest, occasionally brushing his lips against your forehead.

Cats out of the bag.

He doesn’t know what to do now. What if this is the start of something he can’t prevent?

[norrizzandpia]

hey 🧡 could you please do one with lando where you two just have that very special connection. you’re dating for years already and just became each others home / safe place and everyone around you can see? x

The words of this request are so cute like i love it

Also i ended up merging this with the ski trip 🤭 and a proposal bc what other way to best depict two people being incredibly in love than a proposal?? 😍 (i just want to marry Lando Norris)

Ski Trips and Smiles (LN4)

Summary: Lando and Y/n had been planning this ski trip with their friends for months, so she knows everything on the itinerary. Well, at least, she thinks she does.

Warnings: language, yn falling into snow, yn not being able to snowboard, max being a weepy baby

Note: the one time im in a marriage mood bc i watched the bachelorette

Lando’s hand shook slightly as it rested in his pocket, clutching the black suede box that he had quadruple-checked was with him before they left the house. He didn’t know what he was doing, crazed and manic in love with the woman beside him. She was asleep, head on his shoulder as the plane moved along, quiet and tranquil because of its privacy.

Max sat across from him, eyeing his best friend as droplets of sweat began to form at the top of his head.

“You okay?” He whispered, gaze shifting to the girl beside Lando, the girl who had been in their lives for six years.

Lando nodded, albeit hesitantly, “Yeah, fine.”

Max’s eyebrows furrowed together, “Really? Because the sweat stains on your shirt say otherwise. It’s like sixty degrees in here, mate.”

The Brit’s eyes shifted to catch his shirt, the material soaked through around his chest and armpits. His eyes widened, “Oh shit. Fuck. How do I fix this? She’ll know something’s up.”

Max shook his head with a teasing smile on his face, “Don’t say anything, but I figured this would happen. I packed some quadrant shirts from the new line in my backpack for you. I can get one right now if you want?”

Lando breathed a sigh of relief, “Max, holy shit, thank you. Thank you. But, no. I’ll wait a few hours. Until it gets closer to her waking up. I don’t want to sweat through the new ones too.”

Max hummed in agreement, letting silence take the moment once more.

However, the boy felt sympathy for Lando, the nervousness that was clearly wracking his body at the impending ask, so he tried to reassure him, “Lando, you have got to chill, mate. It’s going to be fine. She’s going to say yes.”

Lando’s frantic eyes bounced around, “But, what if she doesn’t? What if I’ve built this all up in my head and she actually doesn’t want to marry me. I’d rather be her boyfriend for the rest of my life than take a chance and ask her to be my wife and have her leave me.”

Max chuckled, “Sometimes, I wish you could see yourself in other people’s eyes. You’d take one look at yourself right now and immediately talk about how outrageous and ridiculous you sound. You two have been together for six years, Lando. Six years. Let that sink in. Six birthdays, six Christmases, a multitude of times she’s been there for you, 130 Grand Prix, an overwhelming amount of time spent building you back up after racing took you down. She’s been a constant. You know that, Lando. You’ve lived through it. This is just making all that permanent.”

Lando moved his head to stare at her sleeping face, her closed eyes and slowly rising chest making his heart fill with a specific kind of love he had only ever felt for her, and smiled softly, “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course, I am.” Max gave, laughing airily.

Lando’s hand came to cradle her head, nudging it toward his mouth so he could plant his lips in her hair, whispering, “Maybe you’ll be right.”

—

Her laughing could be heard in the distance as Lando continued to ski toward her. Her head was face planted in the snow, hands messily placed beside her with her foot shoved in the snow, and, even with all the cold she was most likely feeling, the contagious sound filtered through the air and imprinted itself under Lando’s skin. Whether he got chills from the cool temperatures or the sound of her, he didn’t know. He would like to think it was her, though.

Lando rounded around her body, coming to a complete stop with snow spraying behind him as he fell to the ground.

“Y/n! Are you hurt?” His hands, covered in gloves, gently moved her body to sit up, a smile still gracing her face after the accident.

Her cheeks were flushed as she looked up at him with a mischievous grin and Lando was sure his heart stopped beating. Her beauty was a kind that was subtle, not truly reaching its full potential until she was laughing or smiling and only then blowing you away with such vigor, it took the air from your lungs. Sparkles in her eyes and soft features, Lando always felt a soft kind of feeling burst within him whenever she blessed him with her gaze. He remembered the first time he caught her sight. She had been a vision in a red dress at the gala his dad had forced him to go to. He remembered watching her as she floated across the floor, wondering how someone who looked his age could act with such elegance, and being completely enamored with the woman she already was at 18. He was obsessed, unwilling to look away, and when she looked back, he learned what it was like to be truly awestruck. Suddenly, she had grown shy under their staring and, when he approached her, the two of them had been a bundle of stuttering nerves. Lando later learned that the change in her demeanor was because of her already knowing his name at that point, already having a crush on him. He found it cute then and he still did now as she looked at him with the same light eyes she did that night. The same gaze she shot him every night, everyday, and every moment since they got together those six years before.

“No,” She shook her head at him, waving her hand in his face as she tried to get back on her feet. When she plopped back down, he laughed at her, apologizing quickly after when she looked at him like a lost puppy. He stood up before her, looming over her sprawled out body before bending his knees and reaching out for her arms. His strong, large hands clutched her biceps as he hoisted her off the ground, pulling her into him and successfully getting her to a stand.

Their skis clanged together at their feet, but the noise didn’t interrupt him from leaning down and pecking her cold lips. He smiled under her reciprocated kisses, blushing over her affection and providing some sense of warmth for their smashed-together faces. They stayed kissing each other sweetly off to the side of the run, wrapped in the other’s arms and completely removed from the world around them. That was typically how it was for them, alone in their own world and completely enthralled with the other.

Six years and that had never changed.

And Lando hoped that wouldn’t change for the rest of their lives.

“Oil! Stop fucking on the ski run!” Max screamed as he passed them, goggles on as he zoomed past. Lando moved his head to the side, giving his girlfriend a perfect view of his stellar jawline.

He yelled back, still tangled in her arms, “Shut up! Thank you!”

Y/n giggled at the two best friends, still surprised at some points by their antics.

He returned to her, head tilted down to lovingly gaze upon her, “How about we finish this run and then we can go back to the lodge? Maybe get a drink or two?”

His eyebrows wobbled, she knew what he meant, and she was quick to hit his chest, “Lando! We are with your friends. They are literally staying in the same room with us.”

He scoffed, “There’s a door! It’s like Max’s and I’s old apartment. We used to fuck in my room all the time.”

She rolled her eyes, “That was different.”

“Why?”

He hardened his gaze at her, challenging the argument she was clearly losing. He smiled triumphantly when she huffed his arms and wiggled out of his hold, “Fine! If you make it down to the end before me, we can go at it!”

His jaw fell open as she began to ski away, giggles ensuing and a sound that echoed in his ear even after she was out of hearing range. When he became unvexed by the sounds he adored to a concerning level, he pushed off and began racing down the hill.

When he passed her, he just smiled knowingly at her and thought of the things they would get up to that night.

—

The rooftop of the hotel was filled with bustling adults, glasses clanking together as people joined in boisterous conversation. Lando’s arm around her waist and his whispers in her ear, Y/n felt the love surrounding her that evening.

With their close friends sitting beside them at the dinner table and Lando’s hand on her thigh, she looked around to find everything she could ever possibly need for the rest of her life.

That must’ve translated in her eyes because Lando was leaning down to murmur, “You okay, love? You seem dazed.”

She smiled at him, his heart stopping unsurprisingly, and murmured back, “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just really happy to be here.”

He pulled back, a large grin on his face, before he began to stand up, “Let’s make you a bit happier then, yeah?”

She was confused by his words, but couldn’t question it as he began dinging his knife against his glass, quieting the conversations around the table and bringing his friends attention to him.

She stared up at him as he began speaking, “I just have a few things to say and then we can all go back to getting drunk.” He laughed, agreeing noises being thrown out by their friends, “First, I would just like to thank all of you for just setting your busy schedules aside to be here for a little commencement trip of the winter break. This season has been one of fun, especially with the fact that Y/n was able to make it to every race,” He looked down at her, grinning softly before he caught Max’s knowing eyes, “I cherish that, love. Anyways, so, thank you for that. The second thing is something I’ve been wanting to do for way too long, but never gained the courage. Oh, thank you to everyone for helping me plan what I’m about to do. I should probably say that before I actually do it.”

Y/n sat up in her chair, looking around to see everyone nodding at him as if they understood what he was saying. She looked to Pietra, the girl already looking at her and sent her a questioning face. Pietra just shook her head with a smile as she pulled out her phone and pointed it at the couple. Y/n’s head tilted, lost in confusion and not listening to what Lando was saying before he nudged her lovingly and forced her to look at him.

“Y/n, you’ll probably want to pay attention to this next part.” He chuckled, but she saw the way his forehead creased. He was nervous. She couldn’t understand why he was nervous.

He sat back down his chair beside her, turning his body so he could fully face her and grabbing her hands to hold in his. His piercing green eyes caught hers and didn’t let her go, “Y/n, we’ve been together for six years. Six years that you’ve helped me to find who I am as a person. Six years as you’ve made me realize the man I want to be, especially to you. Six years that you’ve spent putting up with me and all the stressful things I get us into. But, most importantly, six years you’ve spent loving me. When I first saw you at that gala, I was so incredibly struck by you. Not just by your appearance, you’re very beautiful, baby, don’t get me wrong, but there’s so much more to you that meets the eye and I knew that that night. I was struck by the way you held yourself, how strong you are and how kind you are to everyone around you. You’re consistently showing me the kind of human being I want to be and every day I try to live my life by making decisions you would. You’ve been a guidance for me and I can’t thank you enough for that, especially when I was struggling in my beginning years of F1. It’s not something I can say to you every day, but I hope you know how much you’ve improved my life since you’ve been in it. Ask anyone here, I’ve never laughed more, smiled more, or felt as happy as I do when I’m with you. You’ve brought such brightness into my life and I want you to know it’s because you are a light. To everyone here might I add. A light. That’s what pushed me to ask you out, to continue to fight for you, for us because the kind of joy you’ve given me just by being yourself has completely flipped my world upside down. That’s what pushes me to do what I’m about to do next.”

Y/n’s hands shook in his as she watched Lando move his chair and get down on one knee before her. By now, tears were streaming down her face at the realization of what was to come. By now, the entirety of the rooftop had turned to see the spectacle.

Lando Norris getting engaged.

He looked up at her, something he didn’t get to do often, and removed one of his hands to pull the box from his pocket. When he opened it, Y/n cried harder, taking his head in her hands and kissing him harshly.

He laughed at her, kissing her back before mumbling, “Baby, baby, let me get through it?”

She chuckled through the wetness coating her face and nodded, “Please,”

He moved the ring higher, presenting it to her as if it was the most important thing. She wondered when he would realize he was the most important thing.

“I don’t want to know anyone else. I don’t want to love anyone else. I don’t want to share my life with anyone else, but you, Y/n. I want it to be you. Only you. For the rest of my life. Forever and ever and ever, be my wife?” He said through a smile and choked voice, glistening appearing in his eyes as he stared up at his love.

She sobbed, screaming, “YES, LAN! YES! OH MY GOD, YES! YES!”

She lurched forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and nuzzling into the skin there. His hands gripped her body as they cried into each other, whispering soft words of adoration and love.

“I love you so much.” He said, squeezing her tightly as the restaurant erupted into applause and whoops of cheer.

“I love you too, Lan,” She said back, three words that would never have to go unsaid for the rest of their days.

When they pulled back and Lando slid the ring onto the designated finger, they turned to their table. What they found were weeping faces and large smiles as everyone clapped at the success of their plan.

Max blew his nose at the head of the table, Lando and Y/n laughing at him as Pietra rubbed his back.

“You okay down there?” Lando said with a smile as he watched his best friend.

Max stood from his chair and ran over to the newly engaged couple, shouting words of happiness, “I’m just so happy for you guys! Six years, I’ve been waiting for this! And Lando, you were so nervous and I’m just so happy it worked out. Congratulations! I didn’t expect to get this emotional. I’m just so happy that you’ve found someone to love you even with how horrifically annoying you are!” He rambled, hugging them tightly and continuing to blot at his face.

Lando pulled back, “‘Horrifically annoying’?”

Max nodded, “Yes, and look at her! She loves you for you! I’m so proud of you guys!” He wept again, not addressing the way Lando scrunched his nose up at the insult.

Max pulled them into a hug once more, stuffing his face between the two as Lando and Y/n were left to jokingly comfort him. From over his shoulder, Lando whispered to his fiancée, “Am I really horrifically annoying?”

She shook her head, “Horrifically? No. Annoying, though? Mmm, maybe.” She giggled and smiled at him.

That smile, stopping his heart, made her calling him annoying hurt less. That smile was his everything. That girl was his everything.

Oh, Lando was so gone for her and the ring on her finger just told him he could continue to get lost in her.

For the rest of their lives.

[suckerforblondeathletes]

Annoying Affections - Jenni Hermoso

Jenni Hermoso x Fem!Reader

Summary: The need for attention though was always granted, because Jenni would always find a way to get her way.

Warnings: Explicit talk about sex Highlighted in red and bold, not good Spanish but don't blame me, blame translate.

Authors Note: I actually like this, first fic with Jenni, def not the last.

Being with Jenni wasn't ever calm, not even when she was asleep.

She is all over you all hours of the day, begging for kisses or hugs, attention of any sort is something she always had to have or she claimed she would explode. That has yet to happed but you don't bring it up.

When y'all are sleeping, she is on top you, wrapped around you tightly, and clingy onto you like your going to leave.

Don't even try to get up to go to practice, the 130 pound, 5 foot 7 Spaniard isn't allowing that when she is still tired and not wanting to get up.

The need for attention though was always granted, because she would always find a way to get her way.

You and Jenni were getting reader for a event, something you didn't even need to go to because you weren't even on the Spain national women's team, but she said that Alexia and Mapi were wanting you to come, so you gave in.

Slipping on a long, skin tight black dress with long sleeves and a low cut neck, you turned side to side, knowing Jenni would love it.

"Hey bebita, have you seen-" You hear the woman walk into your shared bathroom, her words cutting off when she laid her eyes on your figure.

Turning to her, you smile at the look of her face.

"Have I seen what? Do you like the dress?" You give her a spin and she immediately walks over and puts her hands on your hips.

She leans in and presses a bruising kiss on your lips in a way that makes your mind go hazy and your only thoughts are her.

She squeezes your hips before letting her hands roam you body. As she does so you reach up to put a hand behind her neck to pull her closer, the other sitting on her chest that is dressed in a all black suit.

She looked extremely hot, her black hair out and framing her face, the suit matching the color.

She moans into the kiss, her hands going down to the curve of your ass before you pull away.

She frowns at you before trying to lean in again, you back up and look into her eyes.

"We have to leave soon, we have no time." She whines at that, not enjoying the idea.

"Babe please, I will be quick I swear." She begs you, hands tightening their hold on her hips to show how serious she is.

"No amor, you can wait." You say before backing out of her hold immediately, turning to the mirror and picking up your lipstick and leaning closer into the mirror to see better. Making you back arch and your ass sticking out.

But you know Jenni too well, you know she will end up getting her way.

She walks up behind you, planning her hands on your arched hips before pressing her pelvis into you from behind, grinding into you before leaning down and moving your hair from your neck and kissing it from behind.

You put you hands on the counter and try to gain you composure, trying to stick to your word about waiting until later.

"Bebita please, I wanna fuck you so bad. I know your wet for me, Sé que tu coño quiere tanto mis dedos." (I know your pussy wants my fingers so bad.)

You let out a moan from the dirty things she is whispering in you ear, she knew how much it turns you on when she spoke spanish, especially in situations like this.

She is already pulling down your dress by the sleeves, the material being stretchy for quick slip ons and offs.

You knew she would get what she wanted, she always did.

The sun was peeking through the curtains as both you and Jenni slept. The activities from the night prior wore you both out, your legs sore and an familiar ache in between your thighs.

You woke up to the sound of you alarm blaring into the quiet room, you wrapped in Jennis arms and the warm blanket making it difficult to leave it to turn it off.

Jenni heard the alarm and tucked her head into the crook of your neck and she groaned at the sound.

"Jenni let me go so I can turn it off." You rasped out, your throat being sore from being abused the night before by her fingers and loud moaning.

She hesitated, but lifted her arm just enough for you to slip out and switch it off.

When you came back, she sat up and laid on your chest, making it hard to move and get up.

You thread your fingers into the Spaniards raven hair, making her relax more into you.

"Amor, I have to get up and go to training, just because you don't doesn't mean I don't as well." You whisper into her ear, running your fingers through her hair and scratching at her scalp, you other hand running you hand up and down her naked back. Being skin to skin with her at the moment making it hard to stay awake.

She mumbles something incoherent before wrapping her arms tightly around you body. You smile at her sleepy state before remembering your plans.

"Babe, seriously." You nudge her arm to try and move her, to no avail.

"solo quédate en casa" (just stay home) She says, you know she is half asleep by the Spanish she speaks. She never speaks English when she is tired or almost asleep.

"No love, we have a game coming up and I need to train." You take this time to admire her face, her long lashes and swollen lips, probably mirroring yours.

You get to response from the forward, you can tell by her breathing, she is asleep.

You put yourself into that position by scratching her scalp and rubbing her back, knowing that it quickly puts the spaniard asleep.

You smile and accept defeat by pressing a kiss to her head and reaching for your phone and dialing your coach.

You knew she would get what she wanted, she always did.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

[thir10th]

ciao, bella! - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

summary: you love your polyglot girlfriend TW: smut, oral sex, dirty talk, language kink (i don't actually speak Italian so i apologize for any possible mistakes), hair-pulling, i think that's it A/N: requests are welcome! i still have some drafts to finish first tho. Like and reblog, any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated! <3

The hours seem to pass so slowly when there's nothing you can do.

You're sitting on one of those uncomfortable chairs on that bullpen, a cup of coffee running cold on your hand. Staring at te board with all the names and pictures, you were starting to memorize it.

Morgan and Emily enter the room, the main suspect handcuffed and struggling to get away from Morgan's hard grip. Emily takes er bulletproof vest off to enter the interrogation room, you and Hotch following behind. She happened to be the only one who spoke italian on the team, so this one was hers.

You had profiled the unsub as the classical sexist, misogynist, scared of women over 130 pounds, or like you liked to call them- the unresolved mommy issues type.-

Your girlfriend was gonna eat him up alive, and you could not be more proud.

Morgan and Emily enter the room, he tells him to sit down, which he does seem to understand. Hotch and you watch the scene from the other side of the glass, your eyesnever leave Emiy, she carefully reads the file, in complete silence, making him nervous, until she starts speaking.

You certainly weren't expecting it, although you should've. It wasn't the first time you heard her speak other languages. Arabic, Russian, even Spanish, she always sounded so smooth, mysterious even, but there was just something about this exact moment, the way she challenged him, antagonized him, it was easy to tell she had complete control of the conversation despite that you could not understand a single word of what nether of them was saying.

Your braking point is when they start an argument, you cant really tell what it's about but she shoots from her seat, hitting the table hardly with a strong hand, you excuse yourself. You had to get out of there if you wanted to be able to finish the day.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

it takes you less than a second when she closes the door of your shared hotel bedroom behind herself, to wrap your arms around her waist, connecting your mouth to hers, pushing her body against the door.

"wow, not that I'm complaining but, what's got you all riled up?" she asks, a big smile on her face, the second you separate to catch your breath

"nothing... it's just..." you doubtfully say, her eyes scanning you, going from your eyes, to your lips, back to you eyes, both of you heavy breathing into each other.

"c'mon, spit it out" she says, leaving soft pecks on your lips to get you to talk

"just you, your voice" you confess "you know... when-"

"you like hearing me speak Italian?" she finishes for you, grabs you by your waist, and switches places with you, now she's pushing you against the door, running her hands down your back, reaching your ass giving it a gentle squeeze which makes you jump in your place.

"a little bit" you admit. Emily grins, cocky and gorgeous, she slips her hand into your pants and underwear, running two gentle fingertips up your center, collecting your slit, she shows you her hand, a proud smile on her face, you squirm underneath her touch

"this doesn't look like a bit to me" she kisses your cheek, your neck, you bring your lips to hers, your tongue slipping over her lower lip, in the desperate attempt that she’ll grant you access "Questo è quello che volevi?" you cannot control the moan that escapes your lips, her voice is soft, smooth, it makes you feel things, you kiss her again, this time she complies, granting you access.

She pushes you even harder against the door, her free hand finds its way underneath your shirt, you're not wearing a bra which gives her free access, she lets her fingers dance over your sensitive nipples, your breath becoming quicker with each passing second. “Please, Emily, I-” you got cut off as she sharply took one of her nipples into her fingers and twisted it, the pain quickly turning into pleasure

"what's that? or, should i say che dici?" you can't form any coherent words, you just let out a deep breath, grabbing you by the waist, she forces you onto the bed, her hips aggressively sitting on top of yours

"aww, la mia bambina è nervosa perché le piace che parli italiano?" she's loving the teasing, she loves making you nervous but mostly she loves how worked up she's getting you with only a couple of words.

She placed soft kisses all over your breasts, her lips wrap around your nipple, licking the rosy bud, her teeth softly tugging and nipping the sensitive area, you moan in pleasure.

Finally, she moves her mouth down, placing soft kisses all over your stomach, filling it with butterflies. She unbuttons your pants, aggressively taking off your underwear with them.

Even though you had her exactly where you wanted her, she was still too clothed. You pull on her shirt, hoping to get the message across, as your mind was all nice and fuzzy, she just put her hands up, so you could clumsily remove her shirt, leaving her in her bra and workpants.

"Em, please, just please" you cry desperately for her to finally finish what she started. You moan out as she forcefully shoved a finger up your dripping pussy, licking a strap long of your slit.

"ti piace questo tesoro?" you know you're in for a long ride, now that she knows that you like her Italian, she will be taking advantage of it, not that you're complaining, obviously.

"I don't understand a word of this, but it's working" you say, closing your eyes in pleasure,  your hands pulling on her hair, in a desperate attempt to pull her closer to where you needed her the most.

She was going slow just lapping up your juices, her tongue enjoying the taste of you, how drenched you were. Her lips finally met your clit, licking over the bundle of nerves, sucking the hardened bud.

"Oh fuck, yes baby don't stop" She began fucking you faster and harder, using her fingers, loving the wet sounds your pussy was making around them. Her fingers curled at the perfect spot inside you making your eyes roll back into your head. Her mouth sucking on your clit, her fingers drilling roughly into your pussy was bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please, Em, I'm going to-"

"andiamo tesoro, puoi venire" you can only assume that's her way of approving, you came all over her mouth, her fingers, she lets you ride your high, and then collapses over you, laying on your side.

You open your eyes and see her laying next to you, playing softly with a strand of your hair, you need to catch your breath before you can return the favour.

"Who would've said that it would only take me speaking Italian to make you this horny ugh?" she asks, a playful grin on her face.

"It's just something about the accent i think, or maybe just the way you sound, i don't know, but you looked so sexy in the interrogation room today" you try to explain

"Well lucky for you, i'm fluent" you move to kiss her lips

"however there's someone else who can also speak Italian, right?" your mouth falls open when you realize what she means "OH! No, Emily! Why did you have to bring Rossi up now? You're ruining it" you close your eyes trying to erase that image from your head, Emily giggles "I'm sorry! C'mon, Scusa, amore mio, ti amo" she kisses you cheek, your lips, your face "Ok that one i know what it means" you hold her face in your hands, trapping her lips between yours, kissing her in return, her voice and herself the only thing on your mind again.

"C'mon baby" you straddle her hips "It's your turn, tesoro"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[sadlittleratboy]

People always seem to think Tomura is shy and like...I just can't see it. He has this unwavering confidence in himself, paired with just generally not giving a fuck what people think.

I mean, he's not smooth or cool by any stretch of the imagination, but he also wouldn't try to be. He's a weird NEET that doesn't like people much. You knew you were signing up for. Tomura would probably have to be pretty comfortable with you to develop feelings anyway, which means you two are way past probably everyone saw it coming before he worked out what it really was.

Also, you definitely don't get special treatment over the league. You're just as important, of course, and likely a member of the league yourself, but he cares about his people. He probably takes care of you the same way he does them, just buying you random things and lurking around you like a cat. In that same way, he trusts in your skills, and isn't any more protective of you than he is the rest of the league, unless you genuinely need it. He's strong enough to protect you, so it's not a big deal to him.

Tomura doesn't flirt, but if you're the shy type you probably will wish he did, because instead he just looks at you and says whatever he's thinking. "You're kind of needy, not that I mind." "You make such a cute face when you want attention." "I know full well you know the controls, but if you need an excuse to sit in my lap then I'll teach you again." He will tease you whether you're a boy, girl, or other. It doesn't matter if he's the top or the bottom in your relationship, or if you're bigger than him (which let's be real, he's a 5'9" twink weighing in at 130 pounds, so it's likely that you'll be bigger in some way). He's just like this. Honestly he's not teasing you on purpose, this is just how he shows affection. These moments are unprovoked, and impossible to see coming.

He doesn't really talk much, but he will listen to you go on for hours about whatever you want, joining in only if he has something to say. He likes sharing space with you. Quality time and casual touch is important, so it may come off that he's possessive, but it's actually the opposite. He's not the jealous type, because he trusts you. He's also not really likely to notice any flirting (towards either of you) unless you tell him, and even then you would have to ask him to deal with it (or the person would have to be clearly bothering you) for him to do anything. God help you if you're the jealous type.

You can't really embarrass him either. If you try to tease him by asking why he's done something romantic (romantic for HIM, anyway), he'll simply say it's because he wanted to, or he'll straight up say it's because he likes you. "I did it because we're together. Isn't that obvious?" That doesn't mean you can't make him blush or fluster him, though. Tomura isn't used to affection, much less anything unconditional. Compliments, sweet words, and physical affection that you initiate are bound to get to him, but the most effective is just simply taking care of him. If you make sure he eats or take care of his injuries he kind of forgets how to do anything other than nod. He's flustered and overwhelmed with affection, and the best part is that he's AWFUL at taking care of himself, so you can do this as much as you want honestly.

Generally Tomura would be a good partner. He notices things about people and remembers them. He takes care of the people around him and considers their dreams and wishes. He's not a normal boyfriend by any means. Dates are rarely an outside thing, because even with hiding his appearance he just doesn't like being around people, but you still spend a lot of time together. He's not good at communicating the way other people do, but he does communicate. Sometimes he's genuinely lost as to how to help, especially if you're upset about something, but he WILL try.

Also arguments wouldn't be that difficult to solve, because he will straight up state his issue, and if it gets too heated he'll just walk off and come back when things have calmed down. He doesn't work up easily (we can see this with how patient he is with league members, so a pre-league Tomura might be a little worse in this area), and would rather just talk and find a solution. We don't see him yell often, so I think he probably doesn't like to, but also won't let you yell at him either.

Basically you're dating a loser gamer with zero shame and so much love for you, and that loser also just so happens to be Shigaraki Tomura, one of the largest villains in Japan.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Two

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This whole story will deal with dark and smutty themes. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4.3k

A/N : Spoiler warning for anyone who hasn't read The Picture of Dorian Gray (though can I really spoil a book that's over 130 years old? idk).

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter Two

This is going to be fun.

That was what he’d told you, and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. 

As you laid in bed that night, you wondered where he was, you wondered what he was doing. What had he meant when he told you that he liked you? Did you even want to be liked by him? The more you thought about it, the more you realised just how strange the conversation had been. At the time it felt like he was taking a measure of you, trying to understand you, but not necessarily trying to know you.

At the time you’d felt like you were on the back foot, too shocked by his sudden appearance to really learn anything about him.

But, again, you had to wonder if that was something you really wanted. After all, he was a vampire and there was still so much that you didn’t know about their world and the way that they lived.

You fell asleep that night thinking about his dark eyes and the way he’d looked as he’d sipped your blood.

The next morning you woke with a start, realising that you'd forgotten to set an alarm the night before and you’d overslept. Not that you had any reason to wake up before midday, but you were certain that if you didn’t find a way to keep some sort of structure in your life over the next year, you were going to lose your mind.

So, you got up and got breakfast before spending half an hour on the treadmill, taking a slow walk, imagining you were on your way to the Met. Every day you were going to imagine a new place you’d be able to see in the city once your contract was over. After your walk and a quick shower, you got dressed and headed out into the main penthouse. 

You weren’t surprised that he wasn’t out there - because, of course he wasn’t, it was the middle of the afternoon - but you still felt... something. Disappointment? No, loneliness. 

For a few seconds your eyes caught on his door before you headed into the library.

The next few hours were spent going through his books and his record collection, looking for something, anything, that might tell you a little more about him. But you didn’t know what you were looking for, and there was no way of telling which of the books, if any, held any real sort of value to him. Dorian Gray, you guessed, had to mean something because he’d noticed it was missing from the shelf, but there was everything from the classics to more recent books, spanning almost every genre you could think to name.

(Though you did have to wonder if he’d purchased Dracula before or after being turned.)

Your search for clues seemed fruitless; you couldn’t even begin to guess his age from his record collection. There was everything from classical music to records that you knew were only released last year. Everything was too eclectic. Normally eclectic was something that you liked, you hated the idea of being stuck with only one genre or type or music or book, but it was frustrating how little you’d been able to discover.   

What made it worse, you came to realise, was that he’d been able to read you as easily as he might read one of his books. He’d only had to look at you to understand that you’d taken this job to get away from something.

But you weren’t going to let your mind wander to thoughts of home.

That evening you sat and waited on the sofa realising for the first time that you could get an amazing view of the sun setting over Central Park and the city from there. You’d brought the battered copy of Dorian Gray with you, but every time you tried to focus on it, you found yourself distracted by the view.

To your disappointment, the clock struck 9pm and Mr Russo still hadn’t appeared, so you made your way back to your room.

It was silly to feel disappointed, but you weren’t used to feeling so completely alone. Back home there had always been someone around, even when you wanted nothing more than to be alone. And, the rest of the time, you’d had social media to slake your thirst for connection and companionship. Now there was nothing but the walls of the penthouse, TV and Mr Russo’s collection of books.

The next day passed similarly; you got up, you had a little walk on the treadmill before showering, then you picked out your outfit for the day.Then you headed to the library and started to make you through Mr Russo’s vinyl collection, listening to some of the albums that grabbed your attention, keeping the volume down in case the vampire was sleeping in his rooms.

That was the thing that was really starting to bother you - you didn’t even know if he was home. There was no way of telling if he was just beyond the door to his room, or if he was even in the city. Not knowing just made the loneliness more acute.

That evening, after you’d eaten and drawn blood, you found yourself on the sofa again watching the sunset, his book on your lap and a couple of the muffins you’d made, sitting on a plate on the table. Sugar seemed to help after drawing blood, though you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it.

“Making yourself at home, I see,” his voice pierced the silence so suddenly that you started.

You turned from the window quickly, to find him standing by his door, smiling and very obviously impressed with himself.

“How long have you been stood there?” Not even trying to disguise the shock or annoyance in your tone. 

He didn’t answer, instead he started towards the kitchen, grabbing himself a glass before retrieving today’s blood from the fridge. 

“It’s quite the view,” he stated, his back to you, “I suppose someone should appreciate it.”

“You mean you don’t?” Curious. Why bother having a penthouse like this if he didn’t care about the view?

“Looking at the sunset isn’t exactly enjoyable for vampires,” he shrugged, turning and making his way towards the sofa.

“I thought the windows made the sunlight safe for you?” Or maybe you were just being stupid. You hated how little you know, how little you’d learned before taking the job. And, now, without the internet, you couldn’t even try to learn about it.

“They make it safe, yes,” he stated, sitting down, not directly next to you, but much closer than he had been the first time you met. “But seeing the sun and knowing that I’ll never feel its warmth on my face again, makes it a little unbearable.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t expect that to get a laugh.

“You apologise a lot for someone who hasn’t done anything wrong yet.”

Yet? You weren’t sure what that meant, but you didn’t think it wise to ask. As far as you were concerned, you weren’t going to do anything wrong while you were there.

“It’s just how I was raised, I guess,” you shrugged, your gaze dropping to his glass, to your blood.

Mr Russo gave a hum, his gaze still fixed on you, looking right through you. It was enough to make your heart beat a little faster, even though Lissa had warned you about such things, but controlling it was easier said than done. 

“Are you still settling in?” He asked. “I know that all of this can take a while to adjust to.”

“It’s -” you started and stopped, wondering if it was wise to be honest about it, “- a little lonely. I’m not used to going for days without someone to talk to. Normally I’d at least have the dog, but...” you trailed into a sigh, reminding yourself that this was what you agreed to. 

“I see,” he nodded, face offering the slightest slither of sympathy. “I’ll do what I can to help with that.”

Silence fell for a few moments before his eyes dropped to your lap, to the book that you’d started to tightly grip at some point after his sudden appearance. 

“Are you enjoying the book?” He asked and you looked down, noticing how white your knuckles were.

“Yes,” your cheeks started to warm, “very much.”

Your fingers flexed, releasing your grip on the book and, instead, you pressed your hands flat on your lap.

“Have you read it before?”

“No, it’s not -” you paused for a second, trying to think of the best way to explain it to him, “- it’s not the sort of book that was deemed acceptable where I’m from.”

“Ah,” he nodded, still looking very amused by everything, by you. “And you’re reading it now as - what? An act of rebellion against the way you were raised? Or are you just curious to see how bad it is?”

“No, it’s not that,” you answered without hesitation, shrugging, “I always thought it was a stupid rule. People should be allowed to read what they want and draw their own conclusions. That’s the point of art; it means something different to everyone that views it. And I don’t like being told how to feel about things.”

The amusement on his face slowly started to turn to something a little more genuine, something a little more interested. 

“What part are you up to?”

“He’s going to ask Sybil to marry him.”

He gave the slightest of nods. “And what do you think about that?”

It was a strange question, but perhaps that was because you weren’t used to people wanting to know your thoughts or opinions on things. You took a slow breath and he didn’t pressure you, giving you a moment to get your thoughts in order.

“I think it’s a bit soon. He hasn’t really known her very long and he seems more infatuated with who she is when she’s on stage than her as a person, but...”

“But?” He prompted gently.

“If he loves her half as much as he thinks he does, then maybe they could be happy together? It seems like he needs someone who’ll love him, someone who he can love more than himself, and someone who’ll get him away from Lord Henry.” Even though you were perfectly happy with your opinion, you still felt your cheeks warming again.

“You think he needs love?” Another unexpected question.

“Well... doesn’t everyone?”

“Do you think he really deserves it?”

“Does anyone?”

He paused for a second, looking ready to say something before obviously changing his mind. “So, do you believe in love at first sight? Like Dorian falling for Sybil?”

“I -” you faltered, looking down at the book on your lap, trying to escape the dark depths of his eyes for a moment, “- I don’t know. I find it hard to believe in anything I’ve not experienced myself.”

“You’ve never been in love?”

“I’ve never felt love at first sight,” you avoided the question, forcing yourself to look back up. “Have you?”

“No, not at first sight.”

At that, he seemed to relent, falling silent and letting his gaze drift towards the window again, lifting his glass and taking a sip. You reached for a muffin, almost gasping as his cold fingers suddenly wrapped around your wrist and pulled your arm towards him. Your lips parted, ready to ask the obvious question, but it fell dead on your tongue when his thumb ran over the bruising at the crook of your arm from drawing blood. He stared at it for a second before his eyes returned to yours.

“Do I need Lissa to come and help you draw blood in future?” He asked, and you couldn’t tell if he was concerned or annoyed.

“No, it’s fine,” you gave a gentle tug against his grip, but he didn’t let go. “I just bruise easily. I didn’t even notice it.” 

His fingers tightened a fraction.

“While you’re here, you’re my responsibility. I hope you understand that.”

“That’s not -” but he wasn’t finished.

“If anything was to happen to you, it would be my fault. I need to know that you’ll be more careful in future.” There was an edge to his words, something that made your stomach knot. Did he think that you were incompetent, that you couldn’t do the job? Or was he just worried  that he’d be blamed if something happened to you?

“I’ll be more careful,” you told him but, still, he kept hold of your arm, thumb hovering just above the bruising, a ghost of a touch that made your heart race.

“I might be your employer, but you should understand just how much power you have in this arrangement,” his voice turned almost soft as he let you go. Before you could even think to ask what he meant, he’d drained his glass, placed it down on the coffee table and was heading towards the elevator. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mr Russo,” the words tumbled out of your mouth almost automatically, not sure what else you were supposed to say.

“You can call me Billy,” he told you as the elevator doors slid open and he stepped inside.

And, then, he was gone.

Again, he’d left you with more questions than you ever thought you’d get answers to. You wanted to feel frustrated, annoyed even, at the way he breezed in and out of conversations, as if you were a plaything, just there for him when he was bored, but all you could think about was his touch.

His hand had been so cold, like death’s icy grip and, when you looked down, you found your arm was covered in goosebumps.

Tomorrow, he’d said. He was going to see you again tomorrow. (Probably because you’d complained about being lonely.) Perhaps you’d be able to learn a little bit more about him, perhaps you’d be able to ask him what he meant when he told you that you had power here.

Before returning to your rooms for the night, you took a moment to move his empty glass from the table, rinsing it out in the sink and returning it to the cupboard where it belonged. The rest of the evening was spent trying to concentrate on reading, in part because you were invested in the book, but mostly because you wanted to have something to talk with him about tomorrow.

But, again, you found yourself distracted; by the conversation you’d had, by the things he’d said and the way he’d looked when he said them and, most of all, by the way his touch had felt on your arm.

It was silly. Ridiculous. You put it down to being trapped indoors for the last ten days and you having spoken to all of two people in that time. It wasn’t him. He could have been anyone and you’d no doubt have felt the same way. You were just starved for human contact.

(Only Billy Russo wasn’t human, was he?)

You kept thinking about his dark eyes and the way he laughed, the subtle way his lips curled up when he found something you said amusing. There was no shame in admitting that he was pretty. 

Pretty in a way that would never fade or alter. Just like Dorian Gray.

Though, as you continued to read, you realised that that comparison certainly wasn’t flattering.

The next day passed much the same as the days before it and, as the hours ticked by, you found yourself almost looking forward to seeing him. Though you didn’t allow yourself to feel excitement, in case he disappointed you by not appearing. You stayed in your rooms until it was almost sunset.

He was already there waiting for you when you stepped out into the penthouse proper, today's blood in one hand, a pack of cookies in the other, and the book wedged under your arm.

“Oh,” you stopped so abruptly you almost fell over your own feet.

“Good evening,” he grinned.

“Good evening, Mr Russo,” you replied, still not moving.

“Billy,” he reminded you. “If we’re going to be living together for a year, you might as well call me Billy.”

“Billy,” you repeated, nodding before looking down. “I have your - I mean, I’ve got today’s -” you struggled, eyes fixed on the sealed bottle of blood in your hand, fresh and still warm.

You could feel your cheeks start to heat, not sure what the protocol was in this situation.

“I’ll take that now,” he said but didn’t move.

For a moment more, you remained frozen, feeling utterly ridiculous - and you were certain that he was enjoying watching your confusion.

“Okay, I’ll - I’ll put this in a glass for you,” he didn’t object, so you made your way to the kitchen and set about pouring him a drink.

It was hard not to feel a little horrified - this seemed as close to offering him a vein as you ever hoped to get - but you forced down the discomfort.

“I hope the long sleeves aren’t to cover up more bruises,” he said softly when you finally approached the sofa and took a seat, near him but with enough space that another person would have fit between you.

“No, Mr - Billy. It’s just been cold today.”

“Oh, I can’t say that I noticed...” because of course he hadn’t. “The thermostat is in the library, change the temperature whenever you need to.”

You handed him the glass, a shudder running up your spine when his cold fingers seemed to deliberately graze yours. Your breath caught as you watched him lift the glass to his lips, his eyes closed as your blood touched his lips and you heard the softest sound from the back of his throat. Butterflies filled your stomach and your eyes fixed on the window, watching the sky slowly turn from blue to a progressively darkening pinkish-orange hue.

Billy lowered his glass and remained silent, his eyes following yours to the window, allowing the silence to linger until you chose to break it.

“I thought you didn’t like watching the sunset?” You asked, not daring to look his way.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen one and even longer since I had someone to watch it with,” he shrugged. “I thought I’d give it another go.”

“So, the others, the ones before me -”

“I don’t think they cared to notice it,” he cut you off. There was something clipped about his tone, something that told you he didn’t want to talk about them. His attention turned to the book and the packet of cookies resting on your lap. “Were you planning on reading?”

“Yes, or - I don’t know, maybe..." you sighed, finally allowing yourself to look at him. He gave you a questioning look, wanting you to elaborate. “You didn’t warn me about Sybil.”

“I didn’t want to spoil it for you,” a hint of amusement slipped into his tone. “Are you disappointed that they didn’t get their happily-ever-after?”

You looked at him for a moment and quickly found yourself feeling a little annoyed at the implication that you had expected it to be that easy, that you were some hopeless romantic looking for a happy ending in the most ridiculous of places.

“I’m not some naive child. I don’t know what I expected - not a happily-ever-after, but I definitely didn’t expect that,” you tried to explain. “I didn’t expect him to be so... so cruel to her.”

“She let him down, embarrassed him in front of his friends,” Billy offered, almost like he was defending it, “he was disappointed.”

“Disappointed that she no longer needed to act to feel wanted and loved, because she thought she’d finally found that with him?” You answer back, unable to keep yourself from noticing the way the glow of the sunset made his features seem softer. “He showed her what real love could feel like, then he snatched it away from her. It was cruel.”

“You’re right,” he conceded before hesitating a moment. “Maybe I should warn you that he doesn’t get any better. There is no redemption for Dorian Gray.”

“Oh,” At that you felt yourself deflate a little, an odd feeling of disappointment gnawing at your guts. While you’d told him that you weren’t some naive child, hearing that Dorian wasn’t going to get better made you almost want to give up entirely.

Again, he seemed to find some enjoyment in your simple disappointment - something that was starting to get to you.

“I take it you’re used to reading... happier stories?” He asked and you offered a shrug. “Heroes and romance and happily ever afters?”

“Books have always been an escape for me. So, yeah, I like things that I know will end well.” You answered and, for a second, you could have sworn his smile turned a little softer. “Why do you even like this book?” You dared to ask, wanting to understand why anyone could find enjoyment in such misery.

“I think you’d need to finish the book before we could have that conversation,” was all he offered before lifting his glass and, again, you heard that soft sound as he drank. Your heart started to beat a little faster. Billy carefully licked his lips, like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting a single drop go to waste. The corner of his mouth curled with amusement again. “Are you sure I’m not your first vampire?”

Your lips parted and, for a moment you couldn’t force the words past the lump in your throat. You couldn’t tell if he was teasing or if he really wanted to know, just like you couldn’t tell if it was his intention to make you feel small. But he did make you feel small, he made you feel like you didn’t understand the world you’d found yourself in; like you didn’t understand vampires or the job you’d agreed to, and like you were too naive to understand his taste in literature.

“No. You’re not,” you answered tersely, trying to hold back your annoyance. “You’re just the first one that I’ve let drink my blood.”

“Good,” he replied without hesitation, seeming to completely ignore your change of demeanour.  

“Good?” What was that supposed to mean?

He shifted, turning so he could face you properly, his foot knocking against yours as he did. 

“Good,” he repeated, the corners of his lips still pulling upwards. “If anyone else had tasted your blood, I doubt they would have been willing to let you go so easily.” He licked his lips and your heart continued to stutter in your chest. His eyes closed for a moment, concentrating on the sound before muttering; “like a hummingbird...”

You didn’t dare move, even though every fibre of your being was screaming at you to pull away when his hand reached for you, fingertips ghosting down your cheek to your neck coming to rest above your rapidly pulsing carotid artery. Frozen, you sat there, his hand on your neck and his dark eyes seeming to stare right into your soul.

Does my blood really taste that good? You wondered.

“It does,” he answered and you realised that you’d spoken the question aloud. 

Something prickled in the back of your mind, a warning you’d been given a long time ago, about how some vampires could trick you and control you, how they could bend you to their will. But, you couldn’t tell if that was what this was, or if you were allowing this because you wanted it, because you wanted to understand. Regardless, you didn’t move. Even as he licked his lips. Even as he leaned closer. 

“What does it taste like?” You heard the question but it took you a few seconds to realise that it had come from your mouth.

“Like sunlight and innocence,” he muttered softly, “sweet, like warm honey. Like life...”

Closer and closer, the cold press of his fingers on your neck sending a shiver down your spine, and a heat in your belly. Your thighs gently pressed together. He made it sound so wonderful, so romantic, like it wasn’t some strange and sordid thing. He made you feel special, made you feel things that you weren’t sure you’d ever felt before.

Before you could even consider the possibilities of what might happen next, he was pulling away from you, and you very quickly returned to your senses, taking an uncomfortable breath.

“What -” you started to ask, needing to know if he’d done something to you, if he’d been trying to control you, but he was already on his feet draining the last of your blood from the glass.

“I’m afraid I won’t have time for one of our little talks tomorrow. I have a meeting just after sunset,” he explained and your eyes followed him as he first moved to the kitchen to put his glass in the sink, then started towards the elevator. He paused once he’d hit the call button. “Keep reading the book. I’m intrigued to know what you’ll think of the ending.”

“Yes, Mr Russo,” the words tumbled clumsily from your mouth, an automatic response to the man who was your employer, wanting to regain some sense of propriety.

“Billy,” he countered. “Goodnight, little hummingbird.”

The doors slid shut and you were alone again.

You didn’t move for at least a minute, your head spinning. A hand rose to your neck touching where he had touched you, your skin still feeling cold and prickled with goosebumps. Looking down, you realised that your thighs were still clenched together.

Gathering the book and the untouched packet of cookies, you quickly made your way back to your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

End Note : Thank you so much for the wonderful response to the first chapter of this story! I hope this lives up to expectations. I'm already really enjoying writing this one. Also, sorry as always that I'm constantly so slow at responding to comments, I'm trying to get better at that

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

Tag List:

@lincerad @vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @tortilla-chips-and-allioli

[akixxsstuff]

Death Note Yandere L Lawliet x Wife Reader One Shot Smut

(The picture above was edited by me).

NSFW content // One shot

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ Involves themes of kidnapping, stalking, cheating, non-consensual sexual behaviors, breeding and the usage of sex toys.

L's internal monologue:

Darling, if you measured good and evil deeds by current laws, I would be responsible for many crimes, however, nothing would be more unjust than not rescuing you from your loveless marriage. Yes, your husband is a courageous and hard-working task force member, but he's also a neglectful piece of shit towards you.

He doesn't even know your sleep schedule or how many cups of coffee you've ordered in the past three months, is he even aware that your birthday is in 70 hours, 16 minutes and 43 seconds? My love, you're just like a beautiful puzzle and every day my cameras and private investigators find more precious pieces.

Nothing is of greater importance than you Y/N, I love you so much. I feel like such a creep but I don't care, I have never cared, everything in life is a game including love, and I have never lost, why? Because I am fucking L.

Present Day, (your birthday):

You slowly open your heavy eyelids to find yourself in a well-furnished bedroom decorated with expensive decor and silk curtains and bedding. Your head was pounding and your limbs were weak, were you drunk? Did your friends bring you here to rest after you fainted during your birthday party?

You immediately panicked when you realised you were restrained to the bed across from a crouched, pale man with dark, piercing eyes. It was your husband's supervisor on the Kira investigation, Ryuzaki.

You were merely acquaintances since you only visited the headquarters to drive your husband home or to bring baked goods for your husband and his co-workers. He was odd and reserved however he always praised your cooking and never failed to impress you with his intelligence. You felt sympathy for him since your husband told you he was basically a lonely workaholic. Your husband even joked that maybe he had a crush on you since he gazed upon you like his cake and cases; with desire and fascination, (lolololololol).

You could only think of one logical explanation for why you were here with him.

"Ryuzaki! Do you suspect that I'm Kira!? Is that why I'm here?!" you cried, "No" L responded flatly. "Then what's happening? Where am I?" you whined, "I would rather you not know of your location, but rest assured you are perfectly safe" L replied calmly. "If this is some sort of joke it isn't funny, untie me now!" you snapped, "Yes, I fully suspected that you would be averse to this my darling". "Darling?! Ryuzaki I'm married! You brought me here didn't you!" you exclaimed, "Yes, since I wish to demonstrate why I'm a more suitable romantic partner for you Y/N". Scowling you said, "Well you've already messed up because kidnappers are not my type! My husband is a good man".

"During the past 6 months, your husband has cancelled 130 dates, has only engaged in sexual activity with you on 4 separate occasions and seemingly has not acknowledged your birthday. You deserve someone who is much more attentive and devoted like myself, surely you understand that I rescued you from a loveless marriage".

You were silent. That creep had been fucking stalking you.

He opened the bedside draw, obtaining a large, pink vibrator, "Perhaps this will help, consider it a birthday gift" L chuckled. He lifted your skirt and ripped into your underwear, "Don't you dare!" you snarled, "I'm going to demonstrate how satisfying sex can really be" L uttered while ogling in between your legs.

You choked as he began clumsily massaging in-between your thighs with the sex toy, experimenting with various speeds and intensities to discover what your cunt enjoyed the most. You clenched your teeth to contain your moans since you didn't want to give this sick pervert any validation, however being as perceptive as he was, you weren't able to fool him.

"Your pupils are dilated, your face is flushed and your vulva is already producing lubrication, all typical signs of arousal" L remarked bluntly. "W-what?" you stammered, "Trying to remain quiet is useless Y/N since I already know that your body is finding this device pleasurable. So please, let me hear those pretty little moans of yours, you were always so quiet during sex with your husband my love".

You struggled against your rope as L swirled the vibrator on the highest intensity level around your sensitive, swollen clit. But it was hopeless, you couldn't escape the waves of incredible pleasure that vibrated throughout your pussy. You were in an intoxicating daze and your body was hot and trembling; you were so touched starved that your body was already begging to cum. "Ryuzaki!" you screamed while you squirted your delicious cum all over the vibrator; feeling shocks of electrifying pleasure overwhelm your cunt while your legs jolted.

You gasped as you suddenly felt L smoothly slid his aching dick inside your quivering and dripping hole. He began rocking his hips back and forth, his eyes fixating on his cock which was now glistening from your sweet cum. Aha! Hah! Oh...hah..you feel so...so amazing" L whined, "Stop..aha...fucking me...you..hah..bastard!" you panted. "Aha..ugh..I won't be m-much longer, so there's no need to worry Y/N". You were praying that nobody would hear the creaking of the bed, L's whining or the squelching of precum.

You already could feel another orgasm stirring within you since his desperate thrusting never allowed your body to relax. His firm shaft gliding against your aching g-spot felt like shocks of thrilling ecstasy filling your loins, it was fucking addicting. "I-I am close t-to" L stuttered as his thrusting became erratic and rapid, "Already?! P-pull out!" you yelped. "Ngh! Aah! Aha!" L grunted as he spurted his thick, creamy cum deep inside your greedy, soaking pussy. "You idiot" you moaned as his lengthy, hard dick continued relentlessly slapping against your womb.

"I want y-you to hah! Climax a-again, now aha" L babbled while rubbing the vibrator against your needy clit. Your eyes locked, those once cold, dead eyes were now filled with passion and vulnerability, his gaze was practically saying, "I need you Y/N, I need your body, please surrender to me, don't hurt me". "I-I going too..ah..aha!" you groaned before another explosion of pleasure shot throughout your body. Your pussy clenched tighter around L's shaft as you cummed, squeezing another load of rich, hot cum from his throbbing erection. L tossed aside the vibrator, tore through your blouse and began sucking your nipples, leaving them slippery and hard. "I love you so much Y/N" L purred, "Kiss me then" you whispered shakily. You were disgusted with yourself but your husband hadn't fucked you with the same amount of lust and love for months.

Your hands broke free and in-tangled with L's dark, fluffy locks while you both sloppily kissed, "I'm s-sorry my love, I-m g-going to...aha again!" L choked. "Use me as your cum slut Ryuzaki" you begged, no longer caring that he wasn't using condoms and that you weren't taking birth control. "Say that again Y/N! And aha! Keep clenching around me like that, ngh!", "Use me Ryuzaki! I'm your cum slut, fill my pussy over and over again, do whatever you want to me". "G-good girl" L hissed while finally draining his balls of milky, sticky semen; fucking his own leaking cum back into your abused cunt to ensure your womb would be filled with every drop.

L slowly slipped out his dick and buttoned his jeans, you slapped his face and hastily untied your ankles. "You know that really hurt" L mumbled while rubbing his cheek. You rushed to the door and shook the locked door knob, "Open this door! Right now or I'll kill you!" you shrieked. "You found just as much pleasure as I did in that experience so why be so averse towards me? I love you so much Y/N, you look so beautiful" L praised. "Of course, you'd think that you pervert! I'm half naked and filled with you fucking cum" you snarled, "I'm a pervert?".

"Yes! And a monster! My husband is a great detective so he will find you and throw you in prison forever!" you snapped, "Only a monster can catch another monster, it's why I'm a far greater detective and why you'll be residing with me for a very long time" L replied monotonously while kissing your forehead. Whining you said, "I hate you", "I love you too" he whispered.

[simply-ivanka]

Are the Democrats trying to assassinate President Trump, or are they just rooting for it?

Shortly after Donald Trump was inaugurated after the 2016 election, a so-called comedienne posted a picture of herself holding Trump’s severed, bloodied head. That apparently passes for comedy among Democrats.

In a presentation of Julius Caesar in the venerable Shakespeare in the Park production in New York City a few months later, a likeness of Trump was cast in the role of Caesar. I don’t need to remind you what happens to Caesar in the end.

The violent rhetoric from Democrats just keeps on coming, through Trump’s first term, into this year’s re-election campaign, and right up to weeks before the election. And now, it’s predictably escalating from violent rhetoric and into violent acts.

A month ago, a would-be assassin missed Trump’s cranium by a quarter-inch with a bullet from an AR-15, only because Trump luckily turned at the last possible second. It came out that the Trump campaign had requested beefed-up security prior to the incident, and the White House had denied his request.

The Secret Service at the time was headed by a DEI hire, and the agents at the event were test-failing amateurs. They allowed the shooter within 130 yards of Trump on an unsecured rooftop. Even after they saw him there, with a gun, they failed to take him out and failed to alert Trump or his staff until he’d fired eight shots, killing one man, seriously wounding another, and grazing Trump’s ear.  

In an apparent admission of near-lethal negligence by the Service, five agents were later suspended.

Their replacements seem not much better. In yesterday’s attempt, a Democrat donor got within easy range of Trump on a golf course with a rifle equipped with a high-powered scope. The shooter was wearing a Go-Pro, apparently to post his assassination on YouTube where Democrats everywhere could cheer it. He was thwarted only because he was foolish enough to poke his rifle out of the bushes, where an agent happened to see it.

The shooter had been on the golf course for at least 12 hours. One must wonder, how did he know Trump’s golfing schedule at least 12 hours in advance?

Even now, after two assassination attempts that missed due only to incredible luck or Providence, President Trump is not afforded the level of protection that President Biden or even Vice President Harris receives.

Most recently, President Doofus again falsely accused Trump of saying that neo-Nazis are “fine people” even though that accusation has been thoroughly debunked even by leftist fact-checkers.

Kamala Harris repeated the lie in her debate with Trump – and was not corrected by the moderators even though the moderators purported to correct at least seven Trump statements (some of which were not factual claims, but mere opinions).

You might think the mainstream media would condemn these assassination attempts in the strongest words possible. But if you do think that, then you haven’t been paying attention to the mainstream media for the last ten years.

The mainstream media is implying – no, they’re outright stating – that Trump has all this coming because he’s a Republican who says nasty things. The Washington Post has already dismissed the assassination attempt and has framed it instead as Trump unfairly capitalizing on the incident politically.

The media take their cue from Biden and Harris. They routinely equate Trump with Adolf Hitler, the mass murderer of millions.

The Democrats let their rank and file connect the dots: Everyone has been taught, correctly, that killing Hitler would have been a heroic act that would have saved millions. So, the Democrats don’t exactly say “kill Trump” but they do suggest you’d be a hero if you did.

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 Scenes of massive destruction and rescue efforts following an Israeli airstrike that targeted a residential home in the Al-Hasayna neighborhood, west of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in more than a dozen casualties, including women and children. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

DAY 258: ISRAELI OCCUPATION UNPREPARED FOR WAR WITH HEZBOLLAH, ESTIMATED ONLY 50 HOSTAGES STILL ALIVE IN GAZA, OCCUPATION DESTRUCTION LEAVES 67% OF INFRASTRUCTURE DESTROYED, AMERICAN FLOATING PIER TO RESUME OPERATIONS ON THURSDAY, GENOCIDE GOES ON FOR YET ANOTHER DAY

On 258th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 4 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 35 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 130 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands, of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

"We are in a bad situation and are not ready for a real war," the CEO for Israel's government-owned Noga electric company, Shaul Goldstein said at the National Security Research Institute conference, held in Sderot in the occupied territories.

According to reporting in the Hebrew media, Goldstein was asked whether he could guarantee that their would be electricity in the Israeli entity in a future war with Hezbollah, responding that "the answer is no, but we will rely on Israeli resourcefulness. Israel is an energy island and we have to provide for ourselves - this is also our advantage, we are trained to work on the island."

"When I took office and began to investigate what the real threat is to the electricity sector, I asked - let's say a missile hits the electricity sector and there is a power outage for an hour, three hours, 24 hours, 48 hours, 72 hours and so on. What happens in such a situation to Israel?" Goldstein said, throwing back his own question, answering that "The bottom line is that after 72 hours - It is impossible to live in Israel."

"People don't understand how much our lives here depend on electricity," Goldstein continued, "I have 15 inspectors across the country, if there's a power outage then after 5 hours I don't have a phone to call him. Let's say he receives a carrier pigeon after 12 hours - the same inspector arrives at a gas station but there's no gas, Not a single gas station is working, at each station there is a queue of at least 30 km, if not more."

"All our infrastructure - the optical fibers, the ports - we are in a bad state. We are not ready for a real war. We live in a fantasy world in my eyes. The good thing is that we have invested a lot in protection, a joint team with the electric company as well."

Goldstein went on to say that "If Nasrallah [of Hezbollah] wants to take down Israel's electricity grid, he only has to pick up the phone to the person in charge of Beirut's electricity system, which looks exactly like Israel's. He doesn't even need a UAV filming, he calls a second-year electrical engineer and asks him where the most critical points are in Israel. Everything is on the internet, I'm not saying it here but anyone who goes on the internet discovers it."

"The recognition of our situation has not penetrated. If the war is postponed for a year, five years, a decade - our situation will be better," Goldstein added.

In response to Goldstein's statements, the CEO of the electric company Meir Spiegler stated that "Shaul Goldstein's statement regarding the lack of resilience of the electric network is irresponsible, disconnected from reality and creates panic among the public."

Similarly, the Occupation's Energy Ministry also responded, issuing a statement stating that "the Ministry wishes to clarify that the energy economy in Israel is robust and ready to deal with all possible scenarios."

The Ministry continued by saying that "since the beginning of the war, the Ministry has worked tirelessly to ensure the supply of energy to all citizens of the country, while carefully preparing for extreme scenarios and possible disruptions in supply. These efforts are carried out in close cooperation with the security authorities, with the aim of managing electricity demand, energy surplus and fuel stocks."

"The energy sector is organized according to the national reference scenario established by the National Emergency Authority (Rachel). There are several scenarios and the Alta scenario, where over 60% of households may be left without electricity for up to 72 hours, is an extreme scenario and the probability of this is low. However, the ministry is constantly working to reduce the likelihood of the scenario materializing and to prepare for an exit as quickly as possible from the Alta situation, should it indeed materialize," the Energy Ministry said.

"All the relevant bodies, including the Noga company and the electric company, are acting in accordance with the emergency scenario of Rahel and the professional guidelines of the ministry. The Ministry of Energy calls on the citizens of Israel to prepare in accordance with the directives of the Home Front Command, including equipping themselves with batteries, water and portable chargers, in order to ensure maximum preparedness in emergency situations," the Energy Ministry concluded.

In other news today, Thursday, June 20th, an American official, speaking with the Wall Street Journal, told the newspaper that the number of Israeli hostages still alive in the Gaza Strip is considerably less than the official estimates given in "Israel".

According to the official, whose conclusion is based upon Israeli intelligence, suggests the number of hostages still held alive in Gaza now numbers about 50, out of an original approximation of 120 hostages, suggesting that as many as 70 of the hostages have already died.

This number contradicts the data officially published by the Zionist entity, which suggests that just 43 abductees have been killed while in captivity.

So far, the bodies of 19 hostages have been returned to "Israel" in special operations, including 8 over the last three months.

In the meantime, in other news, two US officials spoke with Reuters today, telling the news organization that the floating dock built by the Americans is expected to resume operations to unload Humanitarian aid for starving and desperate Palestinians on Thursday.

The two officials, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, said the pier had been reconstructed on Wednesday after being temporarily dismantled last Friday due to poor sea conditions.

Humanitarian aid began arriving through the US-built pier on May 17th, while the United Nations said it had transported 137 truckloads of aid to its warehouses in Gaza, equivalent to about 900 tons of aid.

The Americans have also previously received criticism for supposedly allowing the Israeli occupation army to use the pier during its recent rescue operation to recover four Israeli hostages being held in Gaza, an operation in which the occupation army hid its soldiers using humanitarian aid trucks and which led to the deaths of 274 Palestinians and wounded another 698.

In further news, on Wednesday, the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine (UNRWA) said that the Zionist entity has now destroyed 67% of the civilian infrastructure of the Gaza Strip since the start of the Occupation's war of genocide, including roads, bridges, public facilities, parks, sewage systems and water wells.

The organization also noted that the Israeli occupation has completely destroyed all water wells and sewage pumps, and that the process of pumping sewage has been halted entirely for 8 months as a result of the Occupation's destruction of Gaza's infrastructure and the depletion of fuel, causing large areas of the Palestinian enclave to become flooded with sewage.

Further, the Palestinian refugee organization also mentioned that all areas of Gaza are without water following the Israeli occupation's destruction of 90% of the enclave's water wells by bombing, shelling and a lack of fuel.

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation continues its random bombing and shelling of Gaza, leaving dozens of casualties across multiple sectors of the Strip.

According to local reporting, medical sources in Gaza told Palestinian media outlets that two female civilians were killed, and 12 others wounded, after Zionist warplanes bombed a house belonging to the Jadallah family, in the Al-Hasayna neighborhood of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip.

Occupation artillery shelling also targeted neighborhoods east of the Bureij Camp, along with the Al-Maghazi Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, while also targeting central and western neighborhoods of the city of Rafah and east of Khan Yunis, in the south of Gaza.

Speaking with the local media, Mayor of Rafah, Ahmed Al-Sufi, said the Israeli occupation's destruction of the Rafah border crossing aimed to make the Gaza Strip unfit for life, further pointing out that the occupation forces continue to destroy entire residential squares in the Saudi neighborhood, and that the occupation has also destroyed more than 70% of Rafah's infrastructure.

The Zionist army also bombed a gathering of merchants and aid protection committees on Salah al-Din Street, east of the city of Rafah, killing at least 11 Palestinians and wounding up to 30 others, some of whom remain in critical condition.

Further Occupation artillery shelling targeted the vicinity of the Al-Alam roundabout, west of Rafah, killing two Palestinians and bringing the total number of Palestinians killed in the city today to 23.

The Israeli occupation forces are also continuing to advance with reinforcements towards the west of Rafah, while destroying entire residential blocks nearly constantly.

North of Gaza, the occupation army bombed a gathering of civilians in the Shujaiya neighborhood, east of Gaza City, killing one Palestinian and wounding at least five others.

Zionist fighter jets also bombed residential buildings on Kashko Street in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City, resulting in the deaths of three civilians from the Aslim family.

Occupation warplanes also bombed in the vicinity of Jabal al-Rayes, east of the Al-Tuffah neighborhood, east of Gaza City, while two civilians were killed when an Israeli drone fired a missile at them.

According to medical sources with Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital said they'd received the bodies of two martyrs after being targeted by a missile from an Israeli drone on Al-Sikka Street, in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood of Gaza City.

Meanwhile, in another attack, a Zionist reconnaissance drone fired a missile towards a gathering of civilians in the city of Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, killing one Palestinian and wounding a number of others.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the infinitely rising death toll now exceeds 37'431 Palestinians killed, including over 15'000 children and upwards of 10'000 women, while another 85'653 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

June 20th, 2024

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#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[sirfrogsworth]

Grampa's Antique Fan (2015 vs 2024 Edit)

As a young man, after coming home from the Second World War, my grampa got a job as an electrician for Emerson Electric. He didn't work on the actual electrical products. He just maintained the electrical systems that power the tools to make electrical components.

It was a "I heard you need electricity for your electricity" type deals.

The company was founded in 1890 in nearby Ferguson, Missouri by John Wesley Emerson. He was a Union commander in the Civil War and a lawyer and then a judge and then an author and then a historian... so he was clearly qualified to run one of the first electronics companies. (This is currently referred to as the "Law of Elon".)

Emerson (the company, not the dude) specialized in electric motors and was the first to stick their motors in a fan and sell them.

As you can see by the 4 protective fan guard loopies, these were very safe for kids to be around.

I mean, the biggest thing you could shove in there is a baby arm, which is the least important part of a baby. No baby heads were chopped off—which was the bar for consumer safety during that era.

Fans are rated by the volume of air they can push over a period of time and your average box fan can push about 1400 cubic feet per minute or "CFM". When this Emerson (the fan, not the dude) was produced they actually used "CCH" or cubic cubits per hour. Emerson (the dude) loved using odd standards of measurement much to the chagrin of his engineers.

Due to the small surface area, weak angle of attack, and heavy metal blades, this electronic beast could only push a baker's dozen cubic cubits per baker's hour—which was a confusing metric of time because people were very superstitious and they refused to put the 13 on the baker's clocks. They just left a mysterious blank void after the 12 and apparently several people had existential crises during the baker's hour. Some were institutionalized for a rare condition called Time Delirium.

Thankfully Emerson Electric was able to provide the electroshock therapy devices that cured several patients. This was achieved by erasing the memory of the traumatic time delirium events along with a few other unimportant details like what they did last Tuesday and their mother's name and one engineering degree that the guy wasn't even using.

My dad actually got the fan working and let me tell you... that bad boy could really work up a gentle breeze...

...if you stood behind it and blew.

And that fine American-made electric fan motor was just as quiet as a leaf blower on Saturday morning.

Over the last century, Emerson was bought and sold and bought and sold.

And bought and sold and bought and sold.

Was that 7?

Eh, close enough. We'll call it a baker's 7.

They changed their product line countless times over their 130+ years of existence. After fans they pivoted and made electric meat grinders. To this day, no one know what inspired that decision.

Currently, they make radar avionics and are majority-owned by the private equity firm, Blackstone. Which is a totally non-evil sounding name they chose for their company-eating empire. Please ignore that the CEO was one of Trump's policy strategists. This is a non-evil company with a non-evil name run by non-evil people, okay?

Despite Emerson Electric having to settle a baker's gross of lawsuits involving a few lightly scalp'd babies, they maintain a Fortune 500 status and are still headquartered in Ferguson.

They occupy one of the most boring ass buildings ever constructed.

Just rectangles all the way down.

That architect told every angle to get rect.

Of course, I forgot all of this cool history and sold this fan in the estate auction. I suppose it is a good thing I got a nice photograph to help assuage my current feelings of guilt. I mean, it is not baby scalping, time delirium guilt—but I would feel better if I knew my gramp-gramp's fan was in a good home with 0 babies.

[contentment-of-cats]

There is not going to be a happy ending.

This isn't a Mission: Impossible movie. I'd be happy to be proven wrong. It would be the grace of the universe to be proven wrong. One of the reasons I liked 'Rogue One' so much is that it was honest. Everyone died, there was no happy ending, the leads didn't ride off into the sunset, they never knew if their plan succeeded. It was so fucking honest that people hated it.

Here's the latest:

Searching the area where the banging noises were estimated to be "yielded negative results."

The thing is that nobody knows what noises are native to the area. It could be survivors, it could be a loose piece of the Titanic's wreckage banging in the current. ROV equipment has been sent in and data shared so that it can be used in future search plans.

"We don't know what they are," Capt. Jamie Frederick, the response coordinator for the First Coast Guard District, said of the noises.

If they have all this equipment, all the personnel, all the resources and can't find the source of the banging, that's all folks. There is less than 24 hours of air in there, the noises have not been repeated. If they are alive at all, if the sub is not the size of a basketball on the bottom of the ocean, the search and rescue will shortly transition to recovery.

From CNN about 1:00 ET:

There will be a total 10 surface assets in the next 24-48 hours.

There are two ROVs actively searching.

Several more are en route and will arrive by tomorrow morning.

There are two back-to-back P-3 flights — one is ongoing — which provides a total of 14 hours of continuous on-scene coverage.

Two C-130 flights — one ongoing now — through the day and into the evening.

Five assets are currently searching an area twice the size of Connecticut.

Connecticut is 5,018 miles in area.

The assets that arrive Thursday and Friday morning are going to be recovery, not rescue.

No heat, no backup systems for power or air, no communication, in the pitch-black dark, limited food and water, running out of air, breathing in the odor of shit and piss from the bucket toilet, the stink of unwashed bodies and fear-sweat.

Or.

A catastrophic implosion happened an hour and forty-five minutes into the dive and they have been dead since around 9:00 Sunday morning.

No happy endings, folks. Only horrible or less horrible.