#currently reporting from my family’s house | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

violetlichen · 9 months ago

Text

nobody puts my bald baby in a corner

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen / Named Atreides wife A little nsfw but that's not the point. Domestic family life. They have five kids and Feyd desperately wants another. Wifey won't oblige. Don't pay attention to the other characters and Houses I included, I don't know anything about Dune and I just pulled from the fandom wiki or made them up. Their son is not the Kwisatz Haderach either!

****if you're somebody who works at tumblr hq reading this because i accidentally reported my own fic im really sorry****

It has been five years since Feyd-Rautha last saw his wife swell with his child.

It is entirely by her design, and certainly not for lack of trying. He ravages her senseless almost every night, but after five children, the ever infuriating Diana Atreides refuses to give him another. As a Bene Gesserit, it is within her power to do so; the witches are able to bend their own reproduction to their will, and Feyd-Rautha believes she likes his methods of convincing her too much to give him what he wants.

Tonight, he almost has her hooked. He kisses her knee and up her bare thigh, licking and sucking the plush skin there. She barely acknowledges him and lets him fondle her as he pleases, lost in her own thoughts.

“She’s too old for him. He’s just a boy.”

They are currently hosting several of the Great Houses. Earlier at dinner, he and Diana were approached by the Duke of Ginaz, who suggested they betroth his daughter to their oldest son, Aleksei. Diana had hidden her frown behind her glass of wine, but Feyd-Rautha had seen it and filed it away for later, thanking the Duke for his time.

He hums against her thigh, tongueing over the faint bruise he made. He can use this.

“He will be a man soon,” he reminds her. He pulls her leg over his shoulder as he shifts up the bed, now eye level with her weeping cunt. His mouth waters. “Even if we refuse this proposal, there will be others.”

He knows his wife wants to say more, but the words die in her throat when he shoves his nose against her, inhaling her scent and releasing a shaky breath. He pretends it is for her benefit, but really, this is all for him. With his fingers pulling apart the seam of her, his tongue lolls out, and Feyd-Rautha feasts.

When he has had his fill of her pleasure, he crawls up the length of her body. She pants underneath him, back arching and eyes squeezing shut like a satisfied cat, her neck exposed and vulnerable. He licks off the sweat there.

“It will not stop with Aleksei,” he says, leaning over her.

Diana scowls. She shoves him, but he does not yield. He grasps her hand, pulling it away from his chest and up to his mouth, where he kisses her fingers.

He knows he is being cruel, rubbing salt in her wound. Her children are growing. At twelve years old, Aleksei is admittedly still too young to seriously consider for marriage, but the coming years will go by in a blink. First it will be Aleksei, then Nikita shortly after, and then Maxim – although their youngest and most unstable son will be difficult to pawn off, Feyd-Rautha thinks.

His girls are another story. Sasha and Grisha were both gifted their mother’s beauty, but it is Grisha, their youngest, who takes after Feyd-Rautha the most. She is the only one of his children who did not inherit those dark Atreides curls. She is perfect; wholly Harkonnen, like her father. He knows he will feel how Diana does now when it is time for Grisha to leave his side.

It is why he fucks into his wife now, flexing his hips slowly and purposefully, so she feels every inch of his longing. He staves off the urge to empty himself inside of her prematurely, already aching to see her breasts swollen and leaking.

He stops, trying to catch his breath. He pulls back from Diana to thumb over her pearl, grinding his length into her. “Shall I leave you like this, wife?” he asks her.

“Don’t you dare,” she snaps, her hips chasing his fingers.

“I can give you what you want,” he taunts. “I will pump you full of my children happily. What is one more?”

Diana does not answer, but he sees her breaking, just as he is. He holds her legs open, jutting into the apex of them, growling as he stares her down, willing her to change her mind. She hides her fears behind her pleasure, hides the tear sliding down her cheek by turning her face into the pillow, taking what he gives her.

What is one more child? Certainly not the solution to her problem. It is only a delay of the inevitable, that one day they will all grow up and no longer need her. Feyd-Rautha knows this. But he hopes to delay his wife’s suffering, just as he will delay her gratification if she does not give him what he wants.

When he pumps his load into her, he knows she is not satisfied. He breathes through his own satisfaction, nose flaring like a bull, but she does not complain like he expected her to. She does not roll him over to claim him, or bring her fingers to her cunt to finish what he started, his eyes on her hole, full of his spend.

Instead she buries her face in her hands. Feyd-Rautha leans his weight onto her and pulls her hands away, revealing her face to him. She blinks at him, her lashes wet and clumping together.

He knows what she is feeling. “I feel it, too,” he says. “Let me give you another, my darling.”

Diana nods and looks away, breathing out a held breath. “Alright,” she says. Her eyes soften fondly when they focus on him again. “Alright.”

They lay together for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Feyd-Rautha does not know if tonight will be the night, but he hopes. He hopes she sees it the way he does -- a continuation of their happiness, not the eventual ending of it. He kisses every part of Diana he can reach, and she cuddles into him, their limbs a tangled mess.

A little later into the night, a knock on the door breaks their comfortable silence. Feyd-Rautha grunts, already irritated, and removes himself from her, slipping on a robe and his pants.

When he opens the door, he finds a wide-eyed servant. “It is the children, Baron Harkonnen.”

Feyd-Rautha frowns and widens the door, panic souring him. “Where are they?”

“They are safe, Baron Harkonnen, but there has been a bit of trouble.”

Diana appears behind him, wrapping her robe around her waist. "What sort of trouble?" she asks, brow furrowed.

“It will be best if you follow me to the drawing room within the guest wing, Baroness.”

Diana whips past Feyd-Rautha and the servant, not waiting for either of them to lead her to the guest wing. Feyd-Rautha follows after her, and he knows to expect his boys. It is not the first time he was awoken by something they have done when they should have been sleeping, but it does concern him that they were found in the guest wing.

Although he is the youngest son, Maxim is the instigator of all things. Not as bright as the others, he is aggressive and impulsive, often letting his hands speak for him. He acts before he thinks, and it frustrates Diana greatly. Many nights Feyd-Rautha has been brought before Maxim in the kitchens, where he sticks his grubby hands into pies and picks at berries meant for the morning’s breakfast. The guards know not to let him out of his room at night without their explicit permission.

But as explosive as Maxim is, it is Aleksei who reminds Feyd-Rautha the most of his own brother, Beast Rabban. His oldest son is proud and quick to anger, easily riled by Maxim and his sisters who poke and prod at him in the ways only younger siblings can. Feyd-Rautha does his best to temper Aleksei, to show him the value in patience, in choosing his battles.

Nikita, self-sufficient boy that he is, waits until the battles are over and won to pick at what remains. He watches. Feyd-Rautha suspects Diana favors him over the others, though she will never admit it.

All of them dote on their sisters. Sasha has them carry her around on their backs, even when they are tired and sore and agitated from their training. They still treat Grisha like she is their baby, although she is almost six years old now and loathes the comparison.

Each of them, in their own ways, bring honor to their House. It is not something he had ever imagined for himself when thinking about his future. Feyd-Rautha is proud of his children, and he would not be disinclined to have another.

The chaos they find upon entering the drawing room is enough for him to change his mind.

The lord and lady from Zanbar, whose names Feyd-Rautha has forgotten, fawn over their young daughter, who sits upon an ottoman in front of the fireplace, her face red and streaked with tears. She cries as she pulls at what remains of her blonde hair. It has been crudely chopped off, the ends blunt and jagged like it had been sawed with a knife.

Their boys stand sullenly in front of the governess, disheveled in her bathrobe and still flustered from being awoken in the middle of the night to collect them. Aleksei folds his arms over his chest, his head full of curly dark hair held high. Next to him, Nikita remains calm in the face of their impending scolding. He very likely had done nothing wrong but bear witness to the antics of his rowdy brothers. Meanwhile, Maxim openly glares at the small weeping girl. She deserved what she got, and he is waiting for a reason to give her more to cry over.

“What happened?” Diana asks, dismayed.

“Your sons snuck into my daughter’s bedchamber and cut her hair off while she slept!” the lord’s wife snaps, borderline hysterical. “Where were her guards? How was this allowed to happen?”

She is reaching an unnatural decibel, but withers under the glare Feyd-Rautha shoots her. They were pulled from their bed for this? His darkening expression does not fully quell the lady's anger, and she gawks at her husband, willing him to say something.

"I'm sure there's an explanation," the lord offers unhelpfully, averting his timid gaze.

Diana stills, taking in the sight of the poor girl’s hacked hair. With a deep inhale, she turns to the boys, her hand finding her hip. “Explain yourselves.”

“She was mocking Grisha, mother,” Maxim says, scowling. “We heard her at dinner.”

Aleksei nods, more self-righteous and refined in his anger. “She laughed at Grisha and made her cry because she doesn’t have hair.” He sneers when the lord’s daughter wails a little louder at this, because she, too, does not have hair now. “She called her ugly.”

Diana looks heartbroken over this, but her Bene Gesserit training helps to quickly neutralize her face. She looks to Nikita. “And you? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I told them not to.”

Feyd-Rautha believes him. Nikita is no less ruthless, but he is also a diplomat by nature, preferring more uninvolved methods of justice or revenge. This boldness is certainly the work of his brothers.

Feyd-Rautha cannot wait to reward them handsomely for it.

Diana believes Nikita as well, for she turns back to the other two. “Apologize to Lady Rosalind.”

“But mother, she–”

“Enough,” Feyd-Rautha rasps, growing tired of the spectacle. “Do as your mother says, so we may all retire to our beds.” He shoots another glare at the lord and lady, who bluster under his attention, too afraid of him to protest again.

Aleksei and Maxim step forward and bow to the young girl. “We’re sorry,” they echo, not meaning it at all.

Knowing that is the best she will get from them, Diana exhales deeply and dismisses them back to their rooms, escorted by their governess to make sure they get there and do not take any more detours. Nikita follows, ever their solemn shadow.

Diana kneels down beside Lady Rosalind. “Don’t fret. Hair grows back,” she soothes. The girl hiccups, and Diana gently brushes the hair out of her eyes before standing up to face her parents again. “I apologize on behalf of my sons. As you can see, they love their sister very much and do not take kindly to those who upset her.”

The lord and lady of Zanbar try to hide their grimaces. They know their indignancy is unfounded now that they know their daughter had started this. “Baroness, I must apologize–” the lord starts.

“That won’t be necessary,” Diana interrupts, putting a graceful hand up to stop him. “Let’s put this unpleasantness behind us. My husband and I will question our guards to understand how this was allowed to happen. Those responsible will be thoroughly punished.” She looks at Feyd-Rautha. “That includes our sons.”

This seems to satisfy the lord and lady enough to gather up their snot nosed daughter and leave, perhaps vowing to never step foot on Giedi Prime again. Feyd-Rautha will not miss them.

He and Diana walk back to their bedchamber in an agitated silence, until she breaks it.

“Still want another?” she asks him, deadpan.

“Not particularly. Would you still like me to thoroughly punish them?”

“Not particularly.”

Feyd-Rautha hums, and he reaches for her hand.

The next morning, Feyd-Rautha walks over to Grisha where she sits on the wide stone fence, her little legs dangling over the side. The boys train in the yard, and she watches with her dolls, acting out the sparring techniques she sees with them. He kisses her head, smooth like his. She ignores him, too caught up in supervising the training of her dolls.

Feyd-Rautha smiles. “Who is winning?” he asks.

One of the dolls headbutts the other. Their yarn-like hair swings around violently. It is hard to tell under the light of the black sun, but he thinks one of them is blonde. That one plops to the ground, landing in the sand.

Grisha raises the hand of the victorious doll the way she sees her father raise his in the arena. “This one,” she tells him.

“Well fought,” Feyd-Rautha says proudly. He bends down to pick up the doll and hands it to her. He watches her run her fingers through the doll’s hair, brushing the sand out of it with great care.

One day, his daughter will train alongside her brothers. She will have no need for hair then. It would just get in her way, and make her easier to grab by her opponents. She will see the use in this, and appreciate what makes her Harkonnen.

For now, Feyd-Rautha cups her head and kisses her again. He calls her his beautiful girl, and returns to the yard, picking up where he and the boys left off.

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x oc #dune part 2 #mine #writing

482 notes · View notes

mosabeldali · 10 months ago

Text

Where is Duha Talat?

The 8-year-old girl was reportedly taken by the Israeli military near Rafah crossing in late July 2024. A now-deleted Instagram post by Ido Zahar, a soldier from Israel's 432nd Tzabar Battalion, showed him with a girl in Gaza, believed to be Duha. A soldier, anonymized as "1," recounted that during a raid near the Rafah crossing, an elderly man came out from a house with an 8 year old firl and offered to reveal tunnel shafts, which turned out to be sewer shafts. Accused by Shin Bet of H*mas ties, the man was detained and taken. Duha, separated from her only family, was handed over to other soldiers; her current whereabouts still remain unknown. Reports indicate hundreds of children are missing in Gaza, raising further concerns about their fate in the hands of occupation soldiers.

Source: Palestinian Journalist Younis Tirawi

‼️ Your help, no matter how small, could be the turning point for my family. Join me in rebuilding our lives ‼️

#free gaza #free palestine #gazaunderattack #palestinian genocide #save palestine

525 notes · View notes

kassabfamily · 6 months ago

Text

Hello, be a light for us, friends

We, the three children Abdul Majeed, Youssef, and Izzat from the Kassab family, suffer from mental disabilities and a decline in mental and cognitive abilities, which results in constant screaming, aggressive behavior, and excessive movements, as well as speech disorders and the inability to control the excretory processes, as mentioned in the medical report issued by the doctors. The start of the aggression against Gaza, the disease worsened, and we are not even close to our relatives. Currently, we were living before the war in a house that sheltered us and our family in security and peace. After a full year of brutal war on Gaza, the curtain is revealed. About us in front of people, and now we live in a tent among people, where bullying by peers has been widespread, which has led to our inability to mingle and confront people.

The three of us were deprived of the minimum requirements of life, which are health, education, or even playing with peers. We are now suffering from a very severe deterioration in health due to malnutrition and lack of treatment, and my father cannot provide us with the minimum necessities of life.

We are really in a lot of pain and we ask you to contribute and support us to get out of this impasse and perhaps receive appropriate treatment outside the country

We have a medical report on our three cases and we can present it to everyone.

Thank you all, friends

Pleas donate frend or shared

@90-ghost

#free palestine #free gaza

303 notes · View notes

a-very-tired-jew · 11 months ago

Text

A lot of the current antisemitism I see on here, other sites, and experience in person reminds of behavior I see during cases where I'm required to attend in person and/or testify. Often there will be people outside of the court house who are associated with the defendant, accused, or victim and are there for one reason or another. Emotions are high as someone is watching a loved one be tried for a crime, another person is hoping that they get justice for their loved one, and every reason in between.

When I enter a courthouse people often do not know who I am outside of the lawyers involved (though sometimes an unsavory lawyer has told the civilians who I am or who my colleagues are so that they mob us beforehand). My job is to testify to the evidence that I analyzed and reported on. I simply state during what period of time insects could have potentially arrived at, what stage of development they are in, and what that developmental stage implies. I do not testify to the guilt or innocence of the individual on trial, and as a consultant I work on a first come, first serve basis so as to not be biased towards defendants, plaintiffs, or prosecution.

All things considered, my testimony is usually a dry lecture on insects, their developmental stages, their community stage and progression, what that tells us, and how we use it.

However, afterwards when I leave at the end of the day there will be some friends and family of one of the above persons screaming at me. I've been called a murderer, a criminal, a Spawn of Satan himself, and more insults than I can remember. This has come from families of accused who desecrated and mutilated bodies to families of the victims who are lashing out at anyone who would testify for the defense. I have no actual impact on the crime itself, I was not present in any capacity until after the fact when I was brought in.

But because I have some relation to the case, as a professional, I am now a target that can be lashed out at. I can be insulted and even assaulted if the emotional reasoning of these individuals so dictates.

That's why I'm drawing this comparison.

The way in which the current iteration of antisemitism is used to lash out at Jews just reminds me of these people outside of the courthouses. They're highly emotional and lashing out at anyone with the slightest relation to the thing they've labeled as bad. They see red and actual objective reasoning is replaced with subjective thought, which can be easily manipulated and directed. There's very little to actually be done when engaging with this kind of person.

No matter how many times you explain to the family members outside of the courthouse that you're only there to talk about insects they still view you as the enemy. Just as it doesn't matter how many times you explain to an antisemite that the average Jew in NJ has no impact on the war, they're still a representation of "Evil" and must be insulted/assaulted.

The unfortunate part is that it's the entirety of our people being targeted in this way (yes, even the anti-Zionist Jews get it - e.g. Yuval). Unlike the people outside the courthouse we can't actually ignore this either. You can't just walk away and go home, never to encounter those persons again (usually, sometimes you get called back). Antisemitism is ingrained and extremely prevalent with people attacking Jews and Jewish institutions regularly. There's no way to actually ignore it and be safe. I wish there was. I wish I could just tell an antisemite some cool bug facts and be done with it, but here we are.

#jumblr #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #i/p #forensic consultant #Testimony comparisons #AVTJ thoughts

444 notes · View notes

levissslutt · 3 months ago

Text

Jingle Bell Rock

warnings: 18 + MDNI fluff wc: 642

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“Sing it Meg!”

Megumi was currently belting out the lyrics ‘Jingle Bell Rock’, while you and Toji were curled up on the couch amusingly watch him.

He tapped his little feet and spun in circles as he sang, shaking your head at the hole in his brand new socks.

You swore him and Toji were eating there socks. Every two weeks you find yourself buying BOTH of them more socks, it’s ridiculous honestly.

Your inner thoughts held no actual irritation as you beamed at the little boy dancing around yalls christmas tree.

Toji was trying to act like he wasn’t amused, but you saw the way his eyes twinkled, and the way his lips were pulled slightly at the corners into a sly smirk.

He’s really just a big softie.

This year was the first year he was able to get a Christmas tree for Megumi. The arguments were worse these past couple weeks, from the later nights and early mornings from his work, but two nights ago when he drug in that Christmas tree, he sat you down on the counter with a bottle of expensive wine, and promised you the world.

He always made a way for the small family he created he hated the idea of you working or Megumi going without so he worked himself half to death to make sure otherwise and it broke you heart.

Little did he know you found a part time gig to help keep groceries in the house. But now, everything, for the first time in 6 years since you’d met Toji, was turning around.

Megumi had concluded his performance with his hands in the air, smiling ear to ear.

“Yay Megs that was so good.”

You cheered for from you spot on the couch.

He bowed jokingly at his small crowd and paddled off down the hall.

“Be right back, gotta peeeeee.” He sang.

As you attempted to get up to help him, the arm that lazily draped over you tightened, trapping you to his chest.

“Stay my love, he’s fine.” He murmured into the base of your ear without moving another inch.

“What if he falls in the toilet Toj?”

He chuckled deeply at the thought, causing you to lightly smack his arm.

“I’m serious, him a tiny boy.”

“Let him, it’ll build character, you worry about him too much.”

He was making patterns on the exposed skin of your thigh as he spoke, sending shivers up your spine.

Pouting you responded “I don’t want him to fall in the toilet Toji he shouldn’t have to struggle if we’re right here.”

He sighed deeply “are we still talking about toilets hun, you stress yourself out about him too much whole time he’s fine, go check on him and report back to me.”

He actually let you go gesturing towards the bathroom, side eyeing him you got up and made your way to the tiny bathroom.

And there he was, not in the toilet , but standing on his stool in front of the sink washing his hands. You beamed at the small boy, you may not have pushed him out but he was yours all the same.

Two large hands slithered onto your waist from behind you. Leaning into his touch you looked up at the man, who was already smirking down at you.

“What I tell you doll.”

Meg trotted out the bathroom not paying the two of you any mind. Toji on the other hand was waiting for his moment to get you alone like this again.

He turned you around cupping your face in his large hand, and kissed you, deeply, passionately, full of everything unsaid . He always could do that, transfer his thoughts through those pretty lips of his.

Placing one more small peck to your lips his hands slid back down to your waist and pulled you into a hug.

“I got us.”

He placed another kiss on the top of your head as he held you into his embrace

“Forever.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Fanart creds to owners. I do not own them.

#toji fushiguro #jjk #toji fushiguro fluff #fluff #jjk fluff #toji zenin #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #jjk x reader #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu megumi #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #little megumi

234 notes · View notes

dexthtoyounglings · 4 months ago

Text

Often

Cassian x Reader Smut

Summary: You had always wanted him to see you other than in anger. It was like your stepping into rooms was spreading a plague, killing him slowly. You just wanted him to hear you. To feel what you felt.

Warnings: slight angst, hate-fucking, p in v, degradation, choking, Cassian's kinda really mean in this one, hair-pulling, creampie, violence, mention of war (kinda), mention of Eris

A/N: Hi! This is my first smut in this fandom after I took a (well needed) hiatus after being involved in another fandom. This is scrapped together over a few weeks as I have been busy, so please bear with me, and let me know what you think!! :)

•--•

You huffed out a sigh, finally flipping the last packet on your desk to its front and adding it to the pile at your feet. Sure, you still had a report to write up, but everything had been annotated, and Rhysand had asked for such before he got the formal write up.

You had fallen into this comfortable rhythm after coming into the position. As the Night Court's secretary, you had become a part of the inner circle after the War with Hybern. Rhysand valued the way that you highlighted and took notes on the side, summarizing information you found crucial. He liked the written reports you made, but you had come to know how he only liked the reports for their keeping history of events -- immediate information was more valuable.

You grabbed your tote bag, neatly tucking the papers into it, careful not to mess with the uniform pile you arranged. Pulling on a heavy coat over your sweater, you shouldered the bag, slipping into warm winter boots and stepping out into the long awaited fresh air.

The streets of Velaris were always pretty. On Solstice week, they were a dream -- the display of lights and joy shining through the city like an array of bubbles. Laughter popped, children drifted around their parents' legs, and you could've sworn the air sparkled with it. But, nothing compared to the month after Solstice. Where festive lights were taken down, but the snow still glowed with the love that consumed its citizens.

Velaris was the Court of Dreams, and like its evil older sister, it proved true.

Losing your focus to the couples hand-in-hand, you barely noticed your approach to the River House, blowing on your cold hands to keep them warm.

Suddenly, the door opened abruptly, Feyre standing there to greet you as she always attempted to.

Your High Lady was nothing but caring, going to far lengths to make you feel apart of their small family. You smiled at her, walking up the steps and right into her waiting arms, the warmth of them engulfing you like a soft quilt.

"Y/n! It's so good to see you," she pulled back, looking at the bag that hung from your shoulder, "Don't tell me Rhys has been overworking you.."

You giggled, "Well, Mother Hen, I assure you I am perfectly comfortable with my current workload."

She rolled her eyes at your teasing, knowing she reflected her mate's protective tendencies. She stepped aside, allowing you into the house. You breathed in the air, grounding yourself as you examined the familiar space.

It looked all the same as the last time you had been. Though, that never stopped the house from amazing you. Decorated like a family home, yet sleek and clean like a palace. How a family could balance such two things in a way that you never felt stiff inside of was truly astonishing.

Despite the wonder of your environment, you knew there would always be a time limit to that comfortability. Especially when your favorite Illyrian male had a habit of interrupting your peace. And destroying it.

You had felt it from the moment you resumed your pace to the living room, following the ghost of Feyre's footsteps. His cold and hateful animosity towards you rolling off his body in dark waves. You would've been able to find him without Feyre's guidance, as if you were being dragged under the surf and kidnapped into the black sea that was his wrath.

Cassian.

He was everything that repelled you and pulled you closer. You resented him, always knowing the disgust he put towards your existence, and yet you fought the urge to tuck yourself closer to him. You wanted to be his friend, wanted to be his right-hand, and he seemed to, at most, believe you were shit stuck on the bottom of his boot.

It made you grind your teeth, lying awake at night, wondering what you ever did to make him feel so poorly for you.

Suffocating was the only correct word for how you felt in the same room as Cassian.

The first step into the room was like a mark on your soul, his steep brown eyes narrowing in, floating that hate through the air. A wretch, disgusting and withered. Through his eyes, you had always wondered what stood in your place. Always wondered what creature you hid inside.

He stood next to Rhysand, attention removed from his previous engagement. His wings were stiff, and if you knew any better, you could've sworn he was holding back from snarling at you.

Flicking your eyes to the ground, you stabilized yourself before examining the rest of the room with caution.

Azriel didn't stand too far from you, back against the wall, as distant from the lit hearth as he could manage, catching the setting rays of sun. The winter closed out days more eagerly, though the night was always welcomed, a comfortable blanket over the restless city. Plus, Azriel seemed to bask in being warmed by a different source.

Amren was curled up in an armchair, in which she had practically claimed as hers these days, picking at her nails as if she didn't just get them done several days ago. Mor sat on the angled love seat, positioned mere inches away from the chair. Her legs were stretched out, a peaceful smile gracing her face. She waved to you.

Bowing your head, you focused in on Feyre and Rhysand. They were both distracted, but Rhys noticed your fixed stare, welcoming you with a smile.

You smiled back, pulling your bag off your shoulder, reaching in to grab the stack of research papers and plopping it on the coffee table before him.

"I gave you those two days ago," he stated, looking up at you with curiosity.

You shrugged, "Winter keeps me inside."

He shook his head, looking back up at you with an individual sincerity, "Thank you for these. Cauldron knows we could use more of your work ethic around here."

He gave a pointed look at Amren, who shot him an icy glare that no longer carried the power it once had. Though, it had the same sway. Rhys' laugh boomed in the room, Feyre smiling gently at the noise. It would've been the perfect picture of life -- family.

Had it not been for Cassian's refusal to take his cold stare from the side of your head.

Mor walked over to the stack, touching your shoulder with a friendly reminder of her presence, picking up a few packets. Sifting through them, her eyes of crystalline honey dragging over the words and annotations. Her finger tapped the back of her mini-stack occasionally, leaving you to the silence of knowingly watching.

She pointed to the paragraph. "Cassian," she looked up at him, "I didn't know you stopped by the Summer Court recently."

The devilish smirk gracing her perfect face spoke words she didn't; she was teasing at his expulsions from that wave-washed court. He was notorious for such things. But, trouble in the Summer Court seemed to especially make his body a home.

Cassian softened at her words-- not even her words, just her. Plain and simple. Cassian softened at her.

You felt the pit of your belly gurgle, bubbles of pointed anger soon popped by the onslaught of shame which ate at your mind. You recognized the sensation, the white heat melting all around it.

Jealousy. You had always know it, deep in your heart, denied and shoved into a corner, but jealousy never hid for long enough. He had defrosted himself for her, as he would have Feyre, or Amren. Gods, maybe even Nesta. At each others teeth; he would've gone soft even for her.

The hollow cave of your throat tightened, pushing out air and snapping your attention back to Rhys, "Is there anything you would like me to work on now?"

His shoulders were slightly tensed at your sudden mood change, yet he just shook his head.

"You're leaving already, girl?" Amren asked, her teeth shaped the perfect semblance of human, her voice still holding that edge, "Ever thought of staying casually?"

You rolled your eyes, excepting the teasing, but denying you heard the underlying quizzing.

The answer was no. You have never thought of staying casually. Not while the beast always lingered, growling at you from the corner of every room. And now, you've realized you find it even worse when he's purring. He's never done such a thing under your watchful eye. But, that certainly wasn't the correct answer.

"I have a few things to do at home," you settled for.

Amren leveled you a stinging glare, a hum of disdain making you flinch. No more words were spoken, like it was so easy to watch you disappear.

You waved goodbye to the select people paying you any attention, leaving without as much of a whisper of protest. You took note of Azriel's shadows, reaching out to embrace your shoulder in comfort, returning to their master quickly after:

That pit in your stomach carried you out the door, a trail of silent envy tainted the freshly fallen layer of snow on the street. You inhaled, feeling it rise, peak, and quell with a loud exhale.

Then, shame.

You had fallen into a deep pit of work. Knocking out two written research papers, and writing up a paper from the stack Rhys eagerly returned to you. It had been just a week.

A week.

Like a grueling sickness, your hands refused to stop moving, a temporary distraction from the life around you. While your arm was moving so near to aching and sore by the end of every night, your head was only filled with raw information, the churning of formatting and sentences. You lost yourself in the pen and ink, and let sleep through the bedroom door only after your fingers stiffened to the point of uselessness.

You never even noticed that you'd been alone for the past several days, the house finally an eerie quiet when it dawned on you;

You had no more work to be done.

And it was despair that welcomed you instead of joy. The first and last thoughts that ever seemed to enter your head were that of Cassian, the brute that grew hate like flowers. Telling yourself you hated him back wouldn't be enough. You wanted to truly hate him, so you wouldn't yearn for his toxic attention.

Yet, like a puppy, you felt you were always back at his feet before the night ended, thinking of the heat that would radiate from his hands as they ran down your sides, the weight of his body against your own, the brush of his eyelashes across your cheeks in the most loving fashion.

Maybe he'd come home from missions, allowing you to greet him with tiny kisses, pressing yourself against his muscle-hardened chest, touching-

You flushed those thoughts from your head, face heating with the want of it all.

Cassian was like a forbidden fruit, growing on separate branches just to escape the possibly of your hand reaching out.

You fantasized about this tangible version of him, one that found you nothing but completely delicious, holding you with a grip of iron every night, afraid of the possibility you could slip from him in the night.

A dreamer in a fit court. If dreams of a connection to Cassian weren't just cruel nightmares.

A knock at your door brought you out of the most intense thoughts you'd had all week. Rushing to the door, you didn't check before opening it wide. Revealing Morrigan.

"Mor," you said with relief, "How are you? Is there anything I can help you with?"

She tilted her head at your question, smiling cooly as you stood back to let her inside.

"Why does every interaction have to be about work? What if I just wanna see my favorite friend?"

Blushing, you quickly prepared a kettle with water, setting it up on the stove. Turning, you found Mor sat on one of the stools around your kitchen island, resting her chin on her hands and watching you move around with purpose. Her boots and coat were left at the door, the latter hung up beside it. Glossy golden hair fluffed down over the shoulders of a ruby red sweater, threads of silver shining in the light streaming through the kitchen window.

You felt small under her presence, realizing the only thing further from setting out mugs and teabags was to wait for the water to boil. Leaving you to sit down, and face the hazel marbles that bore into your skin without effort.

A moment of silent took you completely out of your realm, an air of uncomfortability hovering over you.

"Is.... everything okay?" Mor asked, that contented curl of her lips falling to a thin line. The corners of her mouth twitched with concern.

You looked down at the grainy countertops, swirling your fingers around individual patterns, swallowing around nothing.

"Yes, everything is okay."

Mor's head dipped, catching your focus. Her eyebrows were downturned in utmost care. The attempt to float a lie around her was fruitless; it bounced off a clean and unaffected Mor.

"Please," she said, "I want to be here for you."

Your shoulders rose, tense.

"I'm fine, really," you assured, unconvincing to even yourself.

The tea kettle howled at you, disrespected at such a feeble attempt at self-defense. Pathetic.

"Really? Because you've been cooped in your house for a week straight doing nothing but work. When was the last time you spoke to any of us?"

"It's not that crazy. Maybe I have a second life that none of you know about?"

Your walls were slipping, and Mor was gaining height on them. Intent to cross over.

The snort she let out was the first crack. A mocking noise that notched into a sliver that lay along your heart. Your chest ached.

"A second life?" she teased, voice raised, "I'm not that gullible." Standing, she found herself at your side, hip set against the rounded marble edge, "Y/n."

You looked up, picking at the skin on your fingertips.

"Let me in," she pleaded.

A hole in the wall killed the infrastructure.

"Why does he hate me?"

Her nostrils flared at the question. She was expecting a heavier brick than that to strike her foot. "Who?"

You cleared your throat, still rasping, "Cassian."

A bubbling rose through her, air pushing up, searching. And through her chest, into her throat, and involuntarily a boisterous laugh escaped the seamlessly elegant female next to you. The laughing didn't stop, and it didn't touch your own lips. Her laugh fell into breathless huffs, a finger sweeping under her eye.

"Cassian? Hates you?" she asked.

Anger grifted onto your veins, "Yes! I step in a room, and you'd think I killed his whole family! If there was something deeper than hate, I'm sure it would be the perfect descriptor for what he feels for me."

Maybe she had thought you were really joking, or maybe she just thought you had a better set of senses, but her face suddenly turned to something more supportive and professional.

"Y/n," she placed both of her hands on your shoulders, squeezing, "Cassian doesn't hate you:"

You roll your eyes, a human gesture you'd been picking up from the Archeron sisters, spending too much time drinking in their sass.

You pulled her hands off, the kettle whistling in your ear violently, grabbing you away from a dense weight that creeped back into its hidey-hole.

"He's so sweet with you. He was laughing, and he was gentle, and he was just normal."

Mor listened without interruption, even letting your pause pass like a heavy storm cloud.

"But, I only make him go cold. He- He shoves me away. Like I'm- he treats me like I'm nothing, Mor," tears well in your eyes as you pour the steaming water into the two mugs, teabags floating up in response, "What did I do wrong?"

A pair of strong, feminine arms wrapped around you in sisterly support, holding you close to her chest. She smelled like a rich flower, blooming in dark purples and blues. You let your head lean back against the hold of her shoulders, small tears leaking from the corner of your eyes. Falling and absorbing into the environment, you cried with your back to Mor.

You had never cried in front of anyone before, but it was hard to resist the thrall that came with her consuming love.

"Mor," you spoke, voice small.

She guided you to sit, taking care of your current occupation, setting your tea in front of you. Altered to your taste, you took a sip and allowed it to run through you like an open wound.

"You should talk to him," she suggested in return, blowing at her tea, steam rising.

Face pointed to the tall windows, side-by-side on the wall beside your door, you watch the blue of the sky dancing solo.

"How?"

Mor was smirking when you looked back to her. An experienced warrior.

The behavior went on. Partly because Cassian was an asshole, and partly because every time you wanted to open your mouth, your throat closed up, and anger ignited pins and needles in every surface of your body. The frost he treated you with spread to your own heart, leading to you upturning your nose at his waking existence. It hurt all the same. Going home to your empty apartment, falling asleep with your heart reaching out through your open curtains, begging for the night to produce what you desired most.

You pushed yourself back into the swamp of work, completing assignments at the same rate, maybe even quicker. This coping mechanism had been a frequent thing, stomped out into the remnants of a kindle after enough time.

The embers burned just as bright as the day it started, this time proving that some fires were eternal.

You rummaged through papers, searching for a missing report, mixing it up in the wrong pile. A frustrated click vibrated off your tongue. Fumbling with the final pile, your eye snagged on a familiar heading, snatching it out of the mussed stack.

You pulled the ream back together, tapping the bottoms on your table and shoving it into the folder it had arrived in. You pulled a string around it, placing it on top of your complete works.

It would be time for a trip to the River House soon.

A pounding at your front door made you jump in your own skin. It bore no familiarity, unrecognizable from the knocks you'd responded to in your prior time in Velaris.

You dropped your bag into the desk chair beside you, brushing your braid to fall over your shoulder. Approaching the door, another round of knocking began, even more aggressive than the last. You hasted your steps in frustration, pulling the door open, your face paling.

Cassian towered over you, broad wings covering the sun from entering in and blessing your person. His hair was down, fluffed effortlessly by the wind, loose strands tickling is face. And by the Gods, he was gorgeous.

He didn't wait for you to step back before he was walking in, forcing you to retreat into your home. In his hands, he held a stack of reports, ones you assumed Rhys sent him in a mission to drop off.

There was no way he would've ever volunteered himself.

He tossed down the stack on your kitchen counter with a grunt, a few papers flying off the top and onto the ground. He stood a moment, refusing to pick it up, but taking in his surroundings.

Disgust painted his face, like even knowing you lived here tainted the idea of it.

He turned back to your door, pulling his leather jacket further on. Under his breath, you heard, "No reason Azriel couldn't have done this..."

Steaming hot anger seared the very air you breathed, the tips of your pointed ears turning a deep red and your eyebrows scrunching, provoked by his mumblings.

"What is your problem?" you asked, voice assertive.

As if he hadn't expected the same tone your bore, his head turned. His body was second to follow, peering down at you, "What the hell does that mean?"

Your nose scrunched.

"It means why the fuck are you such an asshole all the time?" your words were laced with cold venom, "Every time I have ever been near you, you're just an asshole!"

He refused to meet your eyes, staring up at the ceiling, "Why do you care?"

Your heart thundered like a train; accepting the self-destruction, yet fearing the crash. Yearning for him to close in around you, cocoon you in his warmth, the acceptance of failed dreams gnawed at the back of your neck.

"I just want to know you, Cassian. I want to be your friend."

He ignored your words, the picture of pure boredom. His shoulders straight, wings kicking in irritation. It sunk every thought you had right into the Sidra's current.

"What do I have to change for you to accept me?"

Cassian straightened. Stiff, the twin of a board, like he had been struck by lightning. The air stilled like dead wight, time stopping. Electricity rang through your ears, sharpening your vision. A warning.

His eyes met yours. Predatory, searching for the right patch of flesh to mar. His eyes had lost their light, yet something burned in them so pure and full of life that you shivered. He was like a beast in this moment, the image that enemies saw at his approach. Like death and life, purgatory rested within him, trapped like a soulless animal.

His jaw clenched.

"What did you say?"

A raspy grunt came from deep in your chest and you yelled without second thought, "I asked what the fuck I have to do to get you to accept me? Huh? What do I have to do to be acceptable for you?"

You underestimated the speed of the Illyrian in front of you. He was big, a bulky, tall mammoth of a soldier. You assumed swiftness had passed him in the meantime. Though, he turned with such precision, hand swift as he reached out a large hand to grab your wrist. Stumbling forward, your whole face heated, a heaving in your lungs so deep that nobody was prepared to hear the words you bellowed.

But that steaming wrath was interrupted, a quick end.

"You are perfectly fine, Y/n," he seethed.

The response had your brain short circuiting. Perfectly fine. Just perfectly fine.

Before you could stop yourself, you laughed. A deranged laugh that didn't meet your eyes. Short, blunt sounds that were so detached from your usual cadence of enjoyment that you barely recognized it.

"Wow," you said with another snort, "W-ow! Then I guess I should just stop worrying! Because I'm perfectly fine!"

Cassian looked at you from under his dropped brows.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear, Cassian. The wordsmith you are... it blows us all away!"

You could read him like an open book now, red building in his face, and a simmering thing opening up in his posture.

Just a little further.

You couldn't help yourself from the giggles that pranced through the air, foreshadowing every strike you landed.

"So I guess we can move back on to you shoving your own cock in your mouth while you give me the cold shoulder, right? Because everything is just fine!"

Your last words rang through the air like the final bell.

Disoriented, your location left you, forgetting the surrounding objects that crashed to the floor, scattering around your feet.

Cassian had shoved you back into an accent table, knocking over a potted plant with the force of his ministrations. You grunted at the impact, your lower back feeling the tense pinch that was created by the wood.

You were caged, Cassian's arms like immovable bars. You held one of his biceps with the hand not held in his clutch, maintaining a loose sense of balance.

"What the fuck is wr-"

Cassian interrupted you, drowning your sentence, "You don't understand what it's like. To have to be around you all the time."

Your face morphed into something cruel, mocking him with self-deprecating humor, "Oh, you're a fucking asshole!"

"And you're an annoying bitch, do you know that?" he bit back, "Always acting like you're entitled to princess treatment. Guess what! You're nothing but the scummy secretary of a High Lord!"

Reigning in your hands, your dominant stiffened with fuel. A fire seemed to ignite the nerves inside your arm, hairs standing up like an army of undead soldier. Raised for the battle, your hand held a strong position, moving without warning and landing a swift assault on his cheek.

You backhanded Cassian. Red blotched his skin eagerly, your knuckles surely having left marks on his cheek.

His head had shifted at the impact. A stillness overtook him, the muscles in his neck tensing. The highlights of them popped out with a thrilling pause, his loud inhale laying down a dirty foundation as it hollowed those soft spaces on his throat. Sparks licked up your abdomen. You were sure that the scent of your arousal was like a plague to the situation. The reactions that you tried to keep hidden, your willingness to bend whenever he was around you. It surrounded you now, hovering its needy hands. Warmth clenched at your core, your thighs flexing in restraint.

A rumbling fired into the air, a noise that reverberated from Cassian's center, traveling into his limbs and shaking his hands gently. You felt the vibrations in your connection, his fingers now gripping you with possession.

This moment. This was different. This wasn't the usual hatred that existed between the two of you. This was a deeper hunger, dried out with starvation. Fuck, everything you were made of was hungry for Cassian, clouding your judgment. The self-control you prided yourself in was pulling apart like a frangible cloud.

"You greedy bitch," he said through chuckles, spoken with sharp teeth, "Everything just needs to go your way, doesn't it? No room for patience, or explanations. Not everything is plain and simple, laid out for our sweet little secretary."

His nickname spiked your anger.

"You know that's not true," you spit back.

He rolled his eyes, face closing in on your own, "Sure, and I'm not Illyrian."

You tried yanking your wrist from his grasp, and he only tightened his grip.

"You're doing it right fucking now. You think I can't smell you?" he grit out, "You smell like a bitch in heat. That's all you want, huh? For me to go all soft on you and bow at your feet. Give you the princess treatment, take you to bed all slow and sweet every night?"

Eyes drifting to his lips, you spoke sensually, "And if you're correct?"

His jaw tightened, the bone accentuated sharply.

"Then you'd be wrong."

Your eyes flicked up to stare into his. They had never left your own, as if he were watching every one of your features move in tandem. Cassian studied you, prized in assessing his prey. His brown eyes were a deep pool in the dim space between you. And his own gaze was hot, barely a gaze as it was a brutal investigation. You felt your body melting into the same puddle you did every night, thinking of his calloused hands, and his hard body. Cassian consumed you in the pit of darkness that hovered in his very presence.

"I wouldn't be sweet with an annoying brat like you," he seethed, free hand coming up to grip your chin, "I'm not one of the mindless men you're used to. You'd be mine. It would go my way, and I would fuck you just the way that I like."

Your breathing went shallowing, eyelids drooping. His words commanded your body like the spilling of magic. You reacted readily, nipples peaking under your clothes, reeling in the images he fed you.

"You would like that, wouldn't you? To cut the shit, let me use you like a cocksleeve?"

"Fuck you," you responded, yet it lacked the spunk you were searching for, instead melting into something like a sunken moan.

"Trust me, princess. I will."

Cassian's lips crashed down onto your own in a hurried kiss, like a moment longer without your mouth on his would shatter the world. Mother, you would've believed him if he said such was true.

For the brutish appearance of him, Cassian's lips were soft upon your own. They moved with an uncontrolled possession, capturing your bottom lip prisoner with every passionate lunge.

You were puddy in his arms. Large, muscular arms. Fuck, his whole body seemed to muddle your thoughts, driving you mad. He was a weapon against your own senses, dangerous to any maintenance of concentration.

You reached up to hold his face, rough stubble scratching against your fingers that held lower on his jaw. His hands pulled away, only to move to the depression of your waist, pulling your lower half against his.

A hardness pressed against your lower belly, spreading molten lava through your body as a warning; this male was detrimental when he practically breathed the same air as you. Not to mention that he was steel at your own command, hard to the touch.

You moaned, your kisses turning open-mouthed, tongues tangling with messy abandonment. Spit coated your lips, some smeared further on your chin, teeth clashing in a hungry attempt to tear each other apart.

He wasn't close enough. Your body was groaning like a train, refusing against its brakes. Your hands drifted into his hair, fingers tangling, pulling his face impossibly closer to your own.

Cassian's hands were like hot irons, branding your skin with every touch passed. Your front teeth clanked together, both of you panting into the space as you finally calmed to a standstill.

"Cassian," you breathed out.

He slipped one of his hands under your thigh, hiking it up to rest at his hip, his hands holding you up from the junction of your knee.

"You don't understand what you do to me," he tucked his face under your jaw, silently begging access to your neck.

You let him, tilting your head up and accepting the way his lips latched onto the soft skin there, kissing and sucking, biting into the flesh with unrelenting hunger.

"Let me," you begged.

He stopped, placing gentle kissing along the hallow of your throat, "What do you mean?"

"Let me understand."

Picking you up, hands under your ass, and walking you into your secluded living room, he dropped you onto the plush of your sofa. He crawled over you, touching you with a searing kiss.

Cassian's hands dipped down to the waistband of your pants, the tips of his fingers dipping below to catch the warmth of your skin. He looked up to you, waiting for a confirmation.

You nodded, "Yes."

Those sweet moments were dropped from there on out, his hands like that of a mad male, tearing your leggings down urgently. He didn't waste time before stripping you of your shirt, leaning back to run his eyes over your body.

"You are... intoxicating."

Cassian's voice was strained, as if something was holding his body a slave, yet the words couldn't help but birth themselves. He brought himself down, tongue licking up the center of your abdomen, leaving a wet stripe up to the valley between your covered breasts.

His hands travelled under your back, unclasping your bra with a few tugs. Roughly tearing off your bra, it joined the rest of your clothes, leaving you vulnerable to the male that hovered over you.

A salivating dog, he was eager for you. As if he couldn't have you fast enough, lifting you up to meet his mouth as he latched on to one of your hard nipples.

You inhaled sharply, watching him with droopy eyes. He bit down, pulling a louder moan from you. His smile in return to the noise only made your stomach twist in excitement. He pulled off with a pop, tonguing at the unattended one with the same cocky expression. You felt helpless, on display, reaching for him.

Cassian allowed it, letting your back fall down unsupported as you ran your hands up his shirt, tugging it off before you reached up to pull him back to you. With a stiff spine, he refused, grabbing your hips with a bruising touch and pulling your core against him. You bit your lip, the pressure of his bulge sending your head into clouded territory.

"Yeah, do you like that?" he asked, "Fuck, I can practically feel you throbbing. Pretty little slut."

You sighed, hands traveling around his hips and waist, fingers toying at the elastic waistband of his boxer, peeking out of his leathers. He grinded into you, grunting as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He reached up with a large hand, the span of it wrapping around your fragile throat as his hips ground against you again in a deep motion.

"Mother above, you're like a fucking aphrodisiac. I can barely contain myself, knowing that you exist. Always prancing around our High Lady, all sweet and innocent. I knew what you were playing at. 'Could always smell how excited you got around me."

You tried pushing him away with a snarl. His cocky remarks fueled a fire inside of you that drove you further into this realm of deep hatred.

He tightened his grip on your neck, tutting, "Ah ah ah... You truly wouldn't want me to leave now, would you? Not when you're all riled up. Who would take care of little miss princess then?"

"I can take care of myself," you choked out.

He huffed a laugh, "Sure."

You grabbed his wrist, tugging him off you slightly to remark, "I bet you don't even know how to make a female cum. You're just anther Illyrian brute, after all."

The corners of your living room, quickly filling with shadows. The sun outside faded into the horizon of Velaris, snickering at your words, a display of foreshadowing. You had finally hit it, the one mark that would either drive him away, or drive him mad.

You could've sworn his scent grew impossibly stronger, preluding to the hostile grip he held your hips in, flipping you over without care for the lolling of your head, pushing your body forward into the cushions of the couch. Unbalanced out of your control, you submitted to the brutal way that you were shoved into the pillows, hair tossed recklessly around you in a crown of shame.

You heard rustling, the snapping of elastic, and then the press of hot, bare skin against your backside. What you didn't prepare for was the unprompted, teasing touch of his length at your thigh.

The graze of it made you shiver. He was... thicker than you had imagined. All those nights, lying in bed, sweat dripping from your brow and fingers stuffed between your legs, and you hadn't expected him to be so... big.

Cassian leaned over your back, pressing close to your body as he nuzzled against you. His lips kissed at the tip of your fae ear.

"You wanna be a bitch? Then I'll fuck you like a bitch."

He leaned back, leaving you missing the pressure of his body on top of yours. Though, he didn't let you miss it for too long.

You sucked in through your teeth, jolting forward at the sudden pain before you realized your panties were falling down. They had been ripped to shreds at your knees, Cassian tearing them right at the center.

You moaned at the hasty kindling of a fire inside of your body. Registering quickly the running of Cassian's hot tip through your folds, collecting the slick that dripped slowly from your wanting hole. Your ears twitched with the onslaught of a shyness, so exposed to the large warrior.

"So fucking wet for me," he remarked, "Must be so hard to be such a fucking cumslut all the time."

He teased your center with the tip of his cock, "But, I bet it's not all the time, huh?"

You wiggled your hips, trying to gain some sort of relief, but he moved with you.

"You're only dripping because you just hate me that much. Right?"

He pushed into you slightly, breaching your clenching hole, bringing you to a moaning relief, before pulling back out.

He leaned over you, hand grabbing ahold of your hair from the roots and pulling you back from the cushions.

"Say it. Tell me that it's me that makes you a mess like this."

You groaned in sexual frustration.

"You- You make me a mess like this. It's only you.."

He barked out a laugh, pushing into you slowly, the stretch unbearable.

"That's a good girl. You're all mine, aren't you? Such a sweet girl, all mine to fuck, and ruin."

You nodded your head fervently, mind filled with doughy excitement.

"Say it," he demanded.

You wiggled back against his pulsing cock, "I'm yours, Cassian. I'm all yours, please..."

Chuckling, he sheathed himself into you fully.

Ripping a scream from your chest, all your thoughts dripped into a pit of nothingness. Nothing mattered but him; nothing existed but Cassian. He was thick, huge, fucking hot. And he was so far inside of you, breaching your body in a way you had never felt in your life. The stretch was borderline unbearable, digging into your very soul.

The only tether you had to Prythian was his strong fingers grasping your locks by where they grew. He pulled you back out of your bubbling pit, scalp stinging a little.

"You're... so fucking tight, holy Mother," he moaned, panting above you.

Tiny noises were all you could manage, head clouded, "Please..."

"Please what, sweet girl? Tell me what you need?"

"'Need you to fuck me, Cassie- Please.."

He obeyed you simply, hips pulling back before he thrusted back into you with a power which was held back inside of him.

Resisting. A large man like him had more than just the blow that landed on your body, pushed you forward and smooshed your nose into the pillows. You knew there was more than just the soft ripple of your skin against his. In your mind's eye, you knew full well that a man like him had a dam built to contain.

You decided that you refused to respect his closed off restraint.

You needed it all.

"Don't tell me- oh my go- Don't tell me that- this is all you've got," you managed, testing the waters.

Thrusting into you exceptionally hard, the sting of it making you suck in lost air, he pulled your hair to hold your head up as he pushed his pace rougher.

"You don't wanna feel all that I've got," he snarked, "I don't think you could handle it. After all, you can barely handle being ignored."

Pushing your ass back against his pelvis, you mocked him, "I didn't realize you were a pure-bred pussy. Maybe I'll just have to ask someone else."

He held his breath, body at a halt inside of you. His fingers twitch within the tangles of your hair.

"I'm sure your great friend Eris wouldn't hold back on me. He's never been scared of a challenge."

Cassian's hand let you fall into the pillows, moving to press at the center of your back, between your shoulder blades. He pressed his body into yours, hovering like the embodiment of looming dread, a silent warning.

You didn't dare bite your tongue. It would've fallen off.

All air was drained from your lungs as if his cock was a siphon, pounding into you shamelessly. The slapping of your skins was lewd, disgusting as it absorbed every other noise in the room.

You couldn't help how good it felt though. How you whole body seemed the bask in the way he fucked you like a man gone mad. You didn't know whether to scramble or stay put, walls pulsing with the heavy craving that arose at his touch. He was tearing you in two, the thick length of him running through your walls like the hammering of steel.

He fucked in reckless abandon, gritting out, "Little bitch. You need to learn to watch. your. mouth."

You begged your vocals to respond, but all you could make out was a torn moan, broken in the muffled cushions.

"Nothing to say now?" the leaking tip of him slammed deep into your cunt, "Didn't know it was so easy to knock you off your high horse. Maybe I'll have to fuck you stupid more often."

You whine in response, hands clawing at the pillows in front of you, saliva leaking from the corner of your mouth.

He was ripping your soul from your body, and you vowed with some higher power that you would do anything to feel the delicious drag of his cock again.

With a particularly power thrust, he struck into you, forcing his weight onto you with a hand in your hair again. He pulled your head up, looking into your fucked-out eyes.

"Fuck, you're so pretty when you're helpless like this," he groaned, eyes raking over your face with pleasure, "You wanna tell me who's making you feel this good?"

"You," you said with a shaky breath.

He pouted in an act of hurt, "I need a name sweetheart. You remember my name, don't you?"

You panted, heat blossoming at your core again, desperate on the sound of his voice, and the weight of his cock inside of you.

"Wanna call me by your sweet little nickname again?"

You sucked in your bottom lip, squirming for more. He slapped your ass, stinging the skin in a threat.

"Cassie- please I-" you felt yourself falling apart at the seams, " Y' the only one that c'n make me feel this good, Cassie."

He reclined back into his straightened position behind you, tugging you up with him by your hair. He embraced his arms around you, his dominant hand wrapping around your throat.

"I've got you, pretty girl."

His hips fucked himself into you roughly, setting a sloppy pace. Your brain was putty, fogged with the nature in which he held you, spoke to you, fucked you.

It was all a dream. You'd wake up, and the phantom touch of Cassian's large hands would be a disappointment.

Because there was no way in Prythian such a man like him was real.

Your mind only drifted back down to your body to rekindle itself with the impending override of pleasure. Tightening, your whole body clenched, holding Cassian's length like a vice.

His hips faltered, the restraint with which you clamped onto him slowing his movement.

Cassian moaned loudly, the noise bouncing off the walls like the ringing of a bell, "So fucking tight.. 'm gonna cum. Where- fuck.. Where do you want it?"

"Inside," you cried, "Cassian."

He lost himself, holding you ever more tightly, his cock striking the spot that made you see stars. Your body coiled, fingertips digging into his forearms, needing to feel him.

The tightening of his hand around your throat was your undoing.

That string inside of you, holding you to the realm in which you resided, snapped as your walls sputtered around him.

You screamed his name, drowning in the way his hips careened into you, spilling his hot seed deep inside of you. The roar that paired with the sensation made your vision fuzzy, body limp against his arms.

Five, ten minutes. You couldn't tell how long you panted there with him, helpless to your surroundings.

Cassian steadily let you fall down onto the couch, careful as he pulled out of you, quick to rush around through the closets adoring your hall, finding a washcloth.

You faintly heard the running of water before he came back, a warm, damp washcloth in hand and cleaned you up with a sweet touch.

He got up to dump it off, stalling when he heard your call.

"Cassian."

He turned around, "Yes?"

The moment was stunned, making you wonder if it was all just some hallucination.

"Stay with me?"

Cassian watched you, his big brown eyes filled with something you had never seen before; not with Mor -- not with anyone.

And maybe when Mor had sounded incredulous at your accusations, that Cassian hated you, maybe she wasn't as crazy as she seemed.

And that golden string which you had never noticed seemed to strengthen. It seemed to flourish, expand, and stabilize your souls in a perfectly balanced limbo.

Cassian.

"As you wish."

•--•

ACOTAR Masterlist

#dexthtoyounglings: the archive #dexthtoyounglings #acotar x reader #acotar x reader smut #acotar smut #cassian x reader #cassian x reader smut #cassian smut #cassian acotar smut #cassian acotar x reader #cassian acotar x reader smut

262 notes · View notes

cisthoughtcrime · 5 months ago

Text

a 62yo man in a very small, very wealthy suburban city near Seattle, WA has been caught possessing, producing, and selling CSAM. Homeland Security Investigations and members of the Major Crimes Task Force have linked it to a larger international child sex trafficking ring. the man had business cards with sample photos of young (est. 6-10yo) girls alongside his name, number, and "project manager" on them. he also had guns and hundreds of thousands in US and foreign currencies. they found his "staging room" and photos and videos indicating the room had been used for this purpose and for live mobile casting. his houses (because he had two in this neighbourhood, where each house is typically at least $5mil but many are closer to $20mil) were five minutes from each other and just under a mile from the local elementary school. he's currently in custody.

the thing is, he had already been caught before. TWICE.

he had already been arrested (2012) and convicted (2013) for possession of CSAM in California. then, in 2014 a random check by the Canadian border police found more than a thousand images of minors engaged in sex acts on his phone. the arrest report from the border agents claims he reponded to being told he was being taken into custody by saying "that's not child porn, it's just happy pictures." before this most recent arrest in December 2024, he had only been in community custody instead of being in prison.

this story hasn't really broken yet, but I would expect (or at least hope) to see more about it in the news as more of the investigation starts to become available to the public. for now, all we have are the police reports from the arresting this guy and executing the warrants on his properties, as well as a few other relevant records. a local independent reporter and a neighbourhood newsletter have summarised what we know so far and included these documents. neither of these links includes any graphic material, but the reports themselves describe a few clips of what the officers witnessed (when they arrived to arrest him, they saw him through a window actively watching CP on a laptop).

my question is how the fuck was he still freely allowed to move between states, live so close to an elementary school, change his name, exit and enter the country, avoid incarceration, and have such light sentencing with such little supervision that he could operate and profit from a massive international CSAM business fuelled by material he himself produced, entirely uninhibited while in "community custody"??? he was able to have children in his houses after two arrests for CSAM in two states and two convictions (the first was a misdemeanor, the second a felony).

when can we start also holding judges accountable for endangering minors by letting repeat-offender pedophiles go free? seriously, how many more kids suffered because this convicted waste of carbon got an extra decade of unhindered opportunity? I want the victims' families to sue, I want this case to set a legal precedent requiring harsher sentencing, I want a justice system that isn't just a snooze button for holding rich perverted men mildly accountable. at the very least, I want major news sources to pick this up and present it as the big deal it is.

184 notes · View notes

waywardstation · 5 months ago

Text

Take a Break

It's a rainy day today, and everyone is stuck inside the Galaxy Hall. Good thing Akari has brought in a fun board game for everyone to play! Commander Kamado is not exempt, even if he is buried in paperwork.

Here is my piece for the Hisui Chronicles Zine! It was so much fun getting to write this for the project, and such a huge honor to be invited to do so by the mods! Mods, thank you again so much for having me in the zine, and for all the work you did putting it all together!! It came out fantastic!

If you have the zine, you can find this work within and see its accompanying spot art! They're really fantastic pieces, all drawn by Sensushimi!

You can check out the zine at @hisuizine here on tumblr and on twitter; leftover sales are currently open! :)

OR read it here on AO3!

Enjoy!

–––––

Another flash of lightning glared through the rain-streaked windows to illuminate Kamado’s office. The commander gave no thought to look up from his paperwork as the deep rumble of thunder followed close behind, rolling somewhere above — the storm’s impressive display had been a common occurance all day, and he had grown used to it.

So used to it, in fact, that it felt like it was beginning to overstay its welcome. Having rolled in on dark clouds the night before, the rainfall had long since sufficiently watered the fieldlands. Now, it wasn’t doing much more than swelling the rivers, oversaturating the ground, and unnecessarily pelting Jubilife and its residents.

It certainly halted work for the Galaxy Team’s members today. No surveying, no construction, no farming… Kamado couldn’t send anyone out in these conditions under good conscience, and had dismissed everyone who had reported for work that morning. Efficiency was the pride of any respectable organization, but it meant nothing if safety was not considered. Practically every worker who reported in that morning had been quick to agree to this, but Kamado felt it was more in the interest of wanting to go back to bed and catch a few more hours of sleep.

It wasn’t all bad, though; vicious weather hopefully meant no meetings. No need to settle disagreements between disgruntled villagers, bargain with advantageous Ginkgo members, or play middleman between clashing clan leaders. Kamado did appreciate that it gave him a much-needed chance to finally look over a few backed up work orders, as well as notices for final approval and acknowledgement.

Writing off the current one before him — a notice from the Ginkgo Guild that two supply ships would need the docks next month upon their arrival — and setting it aside, Kamado plucked the next one from off the top of the pile.

Let’s see… A request from Captains Sanqua and Colza, petitioning permission for the construction and agriculture departments to collaborate on new facilities and expansions in the crop fields. That seemed reasonable, what with the recent arrival of four new families to Jubilife—

“ NO! Akari!” A sudden shout downstairs from Rei ripped Kamado’s attention away from the words on the page. “Please don’t, you know it’s the last one I need!”

“Buy it! Buy it! He’s trying to start setting down those housing pieces!” A resounding objection followed, unmistakably from Zisu.

…Ah, yes. The small group of Galaxy Team members who did not run home the moment they had been dismissed.

Even through the barrier of closed office doors and an entire floor between them, the group’s excited shouts still slipped through to reach him. For most of the afternoon, it seemed their commotion and the thunderstorm had been competing to be the loudest disruption in the hall.

And currently, the thunder was not winning.

They were playing that game. The one Akari had saved from a space-time distortion the day before. The one that she had nagged him to play with her and everyone else who had decided to stay at the hall this morning.

She had gushed about how fun it was and how she’d properly teach everyone how to play. And perhaps it really was as enjoyable as she had advertised, what with how spirited everyone was downstairs, still fully engaged in it hours later. But the temptation of partaking in a game was weak in the face of untouched paperwork that had already been neglected.

Kamado huffed to himself at the recollection. That sky-faller was a different breed, braving the unstable pockets to bring back such toys and playthings so regularly. Sometimes, it was cards. Other times, it was a colorful board game with most of its pieces. And occasionally it was something different all together, consisting of game pieces that looked as novel and bizarre as the rules sounded.

Regardless though, it always extracted a very… disruptive energy from anyone who got involved.

Sighing through his nose and reclining back in his chair, Kamado tentatively attempted to redirect his attention back to his paperwork — he had a goal to finish it all by this afternoon, and planned to follow through with that goal. Straightening the paper in his hands, he tentatively leaned back into reading.

Sanqua was requesting approval on preparing land for additional farming plots and another storage shed. There was an attached list of required materials and a projected estimate for—

“Wait! I’ll buy it from you!” Rei’s pleas severed Kamado’s weak thread of concentration before it could even fully recover. “How much do you want for it?”

A quick, coveted second of silent thought before Akari threw her voice into the fray. “Six-hundred!”

“What? No! It says it’s only two-hundred!”

“You asked how much I wanted for it, not how much it costs! Besides, you have like three times the money I do, this is nothing for you!”

“I’ve been saving them for all the houses!”

The sky once again illuminated the office with a flash as the bickering went back and forth. It only seemed to have reached a resolution after it was drowned out by a disruptive roll of thunder. The animated negotiation had reduced back to a level that made it audible yet indecipherable as the rumbling faded, but Kamado didn’t even bother attempting to return his focus to the papers.

“Ooh, Community Chest!” Akari’s voice rose up after a moment of jumbled conversation. “Here, read it!”

A moment of heavy silence, presumably as someone was handed a card to decipher their fate. Kamado’s eyes glanced back down at his paperwork, but he was too busy anticipating the impending shouts to read any of the words.

“I’m being thrown into jail!? ” Laventon’s voice lamented with an anguish that evoked a wave of collective exclamations so loud, Kamado reflexively looked up at his office doors; at this point, it was like they had taken the game up the staircase to continue playing right on the other side!

He could not get any work done like this. Especially if they had somehow even roped the professor of all people into the game — he was one of the few people Kamado had expected to do the same as him, using the day off as an opportunity to barricade himself in his office and tuck into his work uninterrupted. And unfortunately, once Laventon became invested in something, he became almost as enthusiastic as the Pearl Clan warden who had been shouting downstairs quite loudly over the last half an hour.

Heaving himself out of his desk chair and crossing the room with a certain unwillingness, Kamado cracked open one of the heavy office doors and slipped through, heading for the stairs to begin his descent down to the madness below.

––––––––––

“...Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty.” Akari quickly skimmed through the thin paper money before setting it aside, her Cyndaquil observing from her lap all the while. “Paid your bail! Your crimes are forgiven, you’re free to go next turn.”

“Ah yes, the criminal offense of simply picking the wrong card…” Laventon gave his unlucky card one last look before handing it to Akari so she could tuck it away.

“Well look, I’m in there visiting you at least,” Rei pulled his hand out of a bag of snacks to point Laventon towards his metal piece on the board; while the professor’s figure was confined within the barred section of the square, Rei’s was sitting on the safe outer strip labeled ‘just visiting’ . “I’ll be here for you when you’re a free man again.”

“Thank you, my boy, though I sorely needed that two-hundred I was about to collect!”

Rei lit up at this, giving Laventon a look that Akari had learned to be wary of.

“…If I give you three-hundred right now, can you help me bankrupt Akari and get Festival Plaza from her?”

“Hey!” Akari intervened before Laventon could even give his answer. “You can’t do that!”

“Yes I can! Come on, Professor,” Rei flashed him a set of three yellow paper bills, “your new hardened life of crime should make this an easy choice!”

“I’ll take that offer if he doesn’t!” Bagin saw his chance to jump on the offer when Laventon, clearly torn, stalled on his words.

“ No! No one’s getting bribed! Just pass the dice, Professor!” Akari reached across the board to firmly guide Laventon’s hands towards Ingo, who was sitting right next to him. Appearing a little victimized yet relieved at the chance to escape the situation, the professor hastily dropped the dice into Ingo’s waiting hands.

“Ah, my turn has arrived now, I suppose.” Holding the dice close, the warden gently shook them. The uncertainty in his wording gave away his hesitance… which was understandable, given his present situation.

His poor piece, a metal figure representing what Akari had reminded him was a modern-day aether, was stationed right before the only three property squares that Zisu had bought.

With every single property choked with green and red buildings, it was a short but fatal stretch of unforgiving financial hell. A ‘Community Chest’ square separating the second and third tiles was the only safe space between them, but Ingo wasn’t counting on being lucky enough to land on it.

“Get ready to pay up, Ingo.” Zisu leaned forward in anticipation, like a Purugly crouching in the tall grass and waiting for a Starly to turn its back.

“Please allow me to traverse these tracks safely,” Ingo begged the dice before releasing them onto the board. “Five or greater, that’s all I need—”

Every pair of eyes around the board was glued to the two plastic pieces as they rolled, their quiet anticipation being held just long enough to hear the muffled pattering of rain against the hall’s roof. The tumbling pair of dice slowed to a stop, and Ingo’s unfortunate fate was declared as matching pairs of black dots stared back up at him — a double roll amounting to the grand total of four.

“AUGH!” Ingo lamented above the collective shouts that rose up.

“Oooh, so close!” Zisu leaned over towards him, pinching his metal game piece and sliding it right into the hotel-infested deathtrap that was her third property square. Then, the same empty hand extended towards him expectantly. “Alright, Join Avenue’s rent is due. Cough it up!”

“Please, Miss Zisu.” Ingo attempted to appeal to his coworker’s empathy as he began to thumb through the few paper bills he still had; mostly consisting of fifties, it clearly wouldn’t be enough to cover what he owed, judging by the amount of hotels surrounding his piece. “I am unsure if I can even afford such an exorbitant amount!”

“Well, that’s what happens when you blow all your money buying those railways off everyone!” Zisu took a teasing jab at him, but eventually relented to an element of mercy. “Ok, ok, just, hmm… give me everything you have except for one of your tens. You can keep that.”

Normally one might have been devastated at being reduced to only standing ten dollars away from bankruptcy, But Ingo seemed grateful enough given the circumstances.

“Thank you; the leniency is much appreciated.” He deposited the money into Zisu’s waiting hand, and she counted over it briefly. Sitting back, he handed the dice over to Bagin, who seemed a little impatient to roll — though, seeing as how he was only seven squares away from passing ‘Go’ , the impatience was understandable.

“Let’s hope I have better luck than you, warden!” He eagerly clasped his hands around the dice and shook them thoroughly. “Come on, seven!”

Bagin more-so threw the plastic pair of pieces as opposed to simply dropping them. The dice tumbled haphazardly across the board, caring not for the stack of chest cards they bumped into, or Akari’s metal piece that they knocked aside.

Laventon blocked their path at the edge of the game board with a quick hand. A five, and a two — the sum of seven faced up towards the hall’s ceiling.

“No way!” Rei seemed almost accusatory as Bagin slid his coin-shaped game piece over to the ‘Go’ space.

“Show me your sleeves!” Having long grown used to Bagin’s exploitative tendencies, Akari felt similarly; she would not put it past the guy to use weighted dice. And his recent streak of extremely fortunate rolls was not helping his case. “That’s the third time you’ve gotten the exact number you’ve needed!”

“No tricks, I promise; I just got lucky!” Bagin tugged at the sleeves of his corps’ red hanten to prove Akari’s accusation wrong. “And two-hundred Pokédollars richer!”

Plucking two yellow slips of paper money from the bank stash, Akari reached across the board to hand them to Bagin, but not without a tiny, well-hidden hint of skepticism. He tucked them away with the rest of his colorful currency, only adding to the comparatively impressive amount he possessed.

“ And , this means that I now have the most savings!” Bagin turned his attention to Cyllene, who was at his right side. “So it’s my turn to wear the crown—!”

“—Ahem!” A stern voice from above killed whatever insistence was about to ensue.

Every head turned towards the top of the floor’s left staircase. With her back to it, Akari glanced over her shoulder to find herself looking up at someone she thought had long since left the Galaxy Hall and gone home on account of the rain.

A muffled rumble of thunder decided to roll somewhere above them at that moment. It might have been seen as an amusing announcement of his arrival, if it didn’t assume his appearance to be one of admonishment.

Akari bristled into surprised silence, but Zisu had no such qualms, flashing a welcoming smile up at him. “Commander Kamado! Did you hear how much fun we were having, and finally decide to come down and join us?”

“Oh, I did hear,” Kamado’s gaze shifted to the Security Corps’ captain, but then moved to scrutinize the large game board on the floor. “I can hear like I’m down here playing this game myself! I came down only to request you all be conscious of your volume; I am trying to finish up a few more work orders and reports.”

“You’re still working on all that paperwork?” Akari lamented, slumping back to better look at him. “You’ve been up there for hours. Have you taken any breaks yet?”

“Coming down here and requesting less shouting is my break.” Kamado descended the rest of the way down the stairs, looking back over the board again as he stepped closer. Apparent curiosity slowed his inspection the second time around in order to take in the finer details.

His gaze wandered over the tiny metal figures and colored building pieces scattered across the red carpeting. Then to the cups of tea and plates of snack cakes around the board, and the colorful paper money, either haphazardly clumped or neatly stacked in piles by peoples’ sides.

While his expression wasn’t one of disappointment, it wasn’t quite one of approval either. “Perhaps I should ask you all to keep the floor a little neater as well?”

“Can do, if you take a real break and join us!” Akari reached over towards Cyndaquil, Oshawott, and Rowlet to pluck an additional metal piece up for him, as at some point the Pokémon had begun playing with the extra ones. “We could squeeze you in real quick—”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Come on, ” Akari drew out the last word, giving him a look as she held the metal figure up to him. “It’s supposed to be a day off!”

“You have been working up there for a while, Commander.” Sitting between Bagin and Zisu, Cyllene had been partially obscured by the Security Corps’ captain until she leaned forward to speak up. “I would suggest taking a break if you haven’t yet. The work will still be up there when you return. And I am open to assist you tomorrow with what is left, if you would like.”

“Cyllene,” Kamado turned his head to her. He would have otherwise been even more surprised to discover her playing than Laventon, but his subdued tone suggested confusion more than anything. “What is that on your head?”

“It’s a paper crown.” She obliged to his abrupt change of topic, a hand moving up to ensure the shiny red papercraft was not leaning crooked. “Akari’s rules. The player with the largest sum of money wears the crown.”

“...Which is actually mine now,” Bagin insisted so quietly, that it barely reached above a whisper. He at least had enough decency not to extend an expectant hand out for it at that moment.

“But!” Akari interrupted, “If you join now, you’ll get to wear it! Come on, join us!”

“Join us! Join us! Join us!” The emboldening chanting grew more confident as more voices rose up, with Kamado only shaking his head as even the Pokémon began to squeal, squawk, and bark, the commotion riling them up. The surrounding ambience of the rainfall disappeared entirely under their chanting.

Kamado inwardly groaned. Even if he did go back up to his office now, there was no way he’d be able to concentrate on that pile of papers sitting on his desk; he’d entirely lost the streak he had going. And now that he’d fallen out of it, the growing ache in his hands might make it difficult to return to the repetitive motions of signing his name for who-know-how-many more times...

“Alright,” Kamado huffed, stroking his chin as he surveyed the board one last time. Perhaps he should tentatively feel out a compromise. “I will join in for one game. But only one game. How long does a round usually last? Around ten, twenty minutes?” “Well, we’ve been playing the same round since this morning,” Rei mused around a mouthful of snack cake. “So like, four hours? Maybe? But Akari said that’s normal for this game!”

“...I see.” Of course Akari would grab up a game that took a decade to play. “How about this; you all move this to one of the rooms downstairs, keep this mess contained to a table, and control your shouting; once I finish up this last workform I’m in the middle of, then… maybe I’ll come down and join you all.”

“Yes!” The group collectively cheered. Kamado turned to head back up the stairs as excited shouting mixed together with the rustling of paper bills and tumbling game pieces, all in a big effort to collect the game and move it down to the sub-level.

Kamado shook his head as he reentered his office, but there was a certain smile hidden under his mustache. Such an enthusiastic bunch. He dearly appreciated the Galaxy Team and what it had developed into over these past two years, even if it was hard to keep up with sometimes.

#hisuizine #submas #ingo #warden ingo #akari #pokemon akari #rei #pokemon rei #kamado #zisu #cyllene #professor laventon #its a rainy day and everyone gets to play monopoly!!!#this game destroys friendships lol #waywardstationfanfic

112 notes · View notes

arminthada · 4 months ago

Text

About TOSAA (Thai On-Screen Actor Association)

On February 24, Thai media reports that actors and actresses in Thailand has established TOSAA - Thai On-Screen Actor Association with the purpose and announced the first/current board of members.

Nat Kitcharit - President Works: Fast and Feel Love, 4 Kings, 4 Kings II, In Youth We Trust, Delete, I Told Sunset About You...

Nonkul Chanon Santinatornkul - 1st Vice President Works: Bad Genius, I Feel You Linger In The Air, 46 Days, The Revenge, 23:23, Operation Undead, Wannabe, Remember, Project S: Shoot! I Love You...

Ud Awat Ratanapintha - 2nd Vice President / International Coordination Division Works: Doi Boy, Operation Undead, Haunted Universities 3, Doctor Climax, Project S: SPIKE, Hormones The Series...

Aelm Bhumibhat Thavornsiri - Secretary Works: Spare Me Your Mercy, In Youth We Trust, Tomorrow and I, The Broken Us, Mom's Recipe, Nakorn-Sawan, The Up Rank, Khun Phan 3, Girl From Nowhere 2...

Ek Thaneth Warakulnukro - Advisor Works: Thai Cave Rescue, Hurts Like Hell, In Family We Trust, Tee Shot: Ariya Jutanugarn, Bad Genius, One For The Road...

Sine Inthira Jaroenpura - Spokesperson / PR Division Works: By the Time It Gets Dark, Nang Nak, 4 Kings II, Taklee Genesis, The Unborn, The House, Absolute Zero...

Oh Anuchit Sapanpong - Spokesperson / PR Division Works: Malila: The Farewell Flowers, The Overture, Kahon Maha Ratuek (Inspector Vedas), Thicha...

Donut Manatsanun Panlertwongskul - International Coordination / Special Actitivities Division Works: Thai Cave Rescue, The Edge of Daybreak, Rivalry...

Meng Chaiwat Chartsuriyakiat - Special activities Division Works: In Youth We Trust, Khun Phan 3... Meng is the drummer for Thai rock band Desktop Error.

Jaii Itkron Pungkiatrussamee - Director Works: In Youth We Trust, 4 Kings, 4 Kings II, The Cliche, The Stone... Jaii is the lead vocalist and guitarist of the Thai modern folk rock band TaitosmitH.

Linn Mashannoad Suvanamas - Director / Treasurer Works: Queendom, Voice In The Rain, Investigation of Love, Sampat Ruttikan, Lhong Fai, Mr. Hurt...

Best Nathasit Kotimanuswanich - Director Works: My Sassy Girl, Friend Zone, Friend Zone 2, Dark App, Sleepless Society: Insomnia, Fleet Of Time, Ghost Is All Around, Alone In Outing...

Mook Minrayaporn Somnongkham - Registrar Mook is an event planner and organiser at Bhorncheewaa Entertainment.

Although the official board has only been announced very recently, the association released its first statement on the objectives of the establishment of TOSAA in March 2024. Essentially, the main purpose is to gather Thai actors in any mediums such as feature films, documentaries, dramas or series with a common goal of creating professional standards for actors, facilitate an environment for exchange and development and be one of the driving forces that pushes Thai industry to the global standard.

Throughout the year of 2024, TOSAA hosted their series Monologue talks and roundtables between actors, similar to the format of Variety's Actors on Actors and The Hollywood Reporter's Roundtable.

1. Aelm Bhumibhat Thavornsiri and Pat Chayanit (EP 1 & EP 2)

2. Sine Inthira and Namfon Kullanat (EP 3 & EP 4)

3. Noi Pru, Jaii TaitosmitH, Nat Kitcharit (EP 5 & EP 6)

4. Monologue Roundtable with Aelm Bhumibhat, Anne Thongprasom, Oh Anuchit, Fresh Arisara, Nat Sakdatorn, Aom Phiyada (EP 1 & EP 2)

5. Monologue Roundtable with Nat Kitcharit, Gap Thanavate, Mote Pramote, Top Todsapol, Meng Chaiwat (EP 3 & EP 4)

Nat and Nonkul are actually members of Film Subcommittee for Thailand Creative Culture Agency which is an agency established by Thailand's National Soft Power Strategy Committee. (Bonus fun fact: Actor Tong Thanayut Thakoonauttaya, more known to QL fans for his roles in Kinnporsche, Man Suang, Tharntype... is actually a member of the Series Subcommittee of THACCA)

Here's an excerpt from a Deadline article detailing some of THACCA's plans.

Inspired by organizations such as Korea’s KOCCA, Taiwan’s TAICCA and France’s CNC, THACCA is described as an organization that “oversees strategic collaboration between the government and private sectors to create income and opportunities for the Thai people through soft power by using its cultural industries as a powerful tool.” It also oversees Thai creative industries including music, publishing, sports, games, design, fashion and food. While total budget was not mentioned, THACCA is spending spending some $6.7M on Thai films, series, docs and animation in 2024-2025, investing in around 30-40 projects, and also plans to launch a new international film festival and T-Expo showcase for Thai content. A further $5.25M is being spent on reskilling the workforce. Longer term, there are plans to launch a Thailand Film Council, invest more in local productions and international co-productions, as well as promote Thai content overseas. Thailand’s government is also planning to establish Media Business Economic Zones, with Pattaya mentioned as a location, and expand cinema circuits in rural areas.

So at the same time that THACCA was being worked on for its pilot programmes in 2024, Nat and Nonkul were already gathering their actors friends to come together and plan the establishment of TOSAA (Thai On-Screen Actors Association).

I did wonder if this association would be similar to the American Screen Actors Guild. And I found in this article with Meng Chaiwat Chartsuriyakiat that the 2023 SAG-AFTRA strike for fair wages was indeed one of the reasons that sparked the actors to come together to push for on-screen standards for Thai media.

pinging friends @flowerbeasblog @virtualtadpole @mukaikun @thomaskong @chayatorns @kittychicha who may be interested in general thai media landscape news.

#nat kitcharit #nonkul chanon #aelm bhumibhat #ud awat #linn mashannoad #thai actors #thai films #thai series #soft power #thai media #lakornet #lakornsource #nadao bangkok #spare me your mercy #i feel you linger in the air #in youth we trust #my writings #claire opens her goddamn mouth #the three top board members being former nadao bangkok artists. damn when i say nadao ppl dominating this industry like i mean it. rip nada

103 notes · View notes

moonlight-records · 7 months ago

Text

Nutcracker after hours| MV33 (HAC #4)

pairing: mv33 x technical theater!reader

summary: It's nutcracker season and you have taken the role of production stage manager for your theater. Your boyfriend reminds you that he is your biggest fan and supporter.

warning: fluff!

fc: none!

wc: 2.7K

a/n: day 4 of moonlight records holiday advent calendar!

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | current day | day 5 | day 6

There are two live theater shows that are a trademark for the holiday season. The first one is the Christmas Spectacular starring the Radio City Rockettes in NYC. It truly is spectacular as you got to see the show once or twice on your trips to NYC during the holiday season and you still hope that they’ll release a pro-shot for others to see.

The second show is The Nutcracker. It was the show for the holiday season. A classic in the ballet world that has become a timeless classic. It was a show that you have seen time and time again. Sometimes it’s your own choice but most times it’s because you work The Nutcracker during the holiday season.

You enjoyed working on the show during the holiday season. Most times you’re a crew member backstage helping with the props and a few costume changes when the team wardrobe is spread thin. You got to hang with your now Nutcracker family, as you called them, and it was nothing but laughs, even the stage management team who constantly are running around like chickens without heads. You often came in early with food (or came back with food during two show days) and let them rant about the dance moms. As much as you love stage managing, you did not envy the stage management team dealing with all the dance moms and were very content being just a random crew member.

Though that all changed this year when the production stage manager reached out to you back in May and asked if you would take over for her. She was pregnant and her due date was during the Nutcracker season and the stress of the stage management team you did not need her to deal with during a pregnancy so you stupidly took the job thinking it wouldn’t be that bad.

“I hate dance moms!” You announce as you close the door entering the house. You bring your gaze to the corner of the living room seeing Max on the sim raising his mic as he glances over at you. You cover your mouth and mouth an ‘I’m sorry!’ realizing that he’s on stream. You put your backpack down on the couch gently and sit down as Jimmy and Sassy both make their way over out of their hiding spot and purr as they climb all over you as you take your laptop out.

Hearing shuffling, you glance up and giggle seeing Max’s headset hair as he makes his way over to the couch. He sits next to you tossing an arm over the back of the couch as he leans back. “What was that about hating dance moms?”

You groan at Max’s question as you lean back and rest your head against Max’s head staring at the ceiling. Then you sit forward again as you continue the rehearsal report, because if you stayed at the theater for a second long you were going to rip your hair out, as your eye twitches. “Entitled moms who have done nothing but try to butter up Mrs. Dimitri all rehearsal and have nasty attitudes. You know one mom tried to argue with my asm when they asked her, very kindly, to be quiet backstage because I heard her from the front of the house. You know how loud you have to be for me to hear you in the front of the theater?”

“Pretty loud?” Max asks cautiously.

“Exactly! Also, The Nutcracker has no words and these are moms that have been with the dance school that’s performing for years so you think they'd do no better!” You throw your hands up and turn to face your boyfriend as you continue ranting, “but no. They have no respect for my team or me all because "we’re not Sherry”. That’s exactly what she said to me when I went backstage during break to explain why her behavior was unacceptable.”

Max’s face twists in shock and disgust, “What? Oh absolutely not. Please tell me you gave her a piece of your mind.”

“Sadly, I could not. Again, I was working but Sherry did give me permission to call her if stuff like this arose and I did just that and Sherry chewed her out on speaker and told her that ‘I specifically asked Y/N to fill in since I’m pregnant and close to my due date. Do not let me get another phone call like this again because next one I will not be nice in my wording.” You smile at the memory, “so yeah. Tomorrow should be fun.”

“Oh, liefje,” Max frowns, “I’m sorry you had to deal with that today.” Max pulls you in by his shoulders and gently kisses your forehead, “I’m glad Sherry had your back though.” It takes a second before Max frowns, “wait. You have work tomorrow? I thought tomorrow was your day off.”

“It’s tech. We work until opening day. I was hoping tomorrow would be a quick day but given how horrible today was tech wise, he wants at least an 8 hour day.” You sigh softly as you lean away to continue typing, “so I have to finish the report and send that out to everyone and then update the daily schedule for tomorrow and send that out again and blah blah blah.” You lean into Max, making a face as you speak and laugh along with Max before you shift leaning your back against Max’s side as you type.

When you finish your paperwork and email them out you get up and excuse yourself. You plug your laptop in so it’s ready to go tomorrow before going to shower and changing into pajamas. You come back out drying your hair and smile seeing a take out container from your favorite spot while Max is flipping through streaming services. You sit next to him, thanking him and kissing his cheek before grabbing the closest blanket and putting it over you two. Jimmy and Sassy immediately climb onto your lap and giggle softly as the cats purr and curl up into your lap. Max so kindly passes you your to go container as you two settle down for a movie.

You overslept by accident. When you woke up, you were stumbling out of bed and getting dressed before quickly brushing your teeth before packing your backpack quickly and rushing out the door. You’re in the car when you realize you left your leftovers in the car and groan because if you go back in, you’ll be late. You decide that you’ll just buy lunch as you back out of the driveway and head to the theater.

You get there about an hour before rehearsal starts and by the time everything is set up and ready, including talking to the crew and running them through the day's event, it was time to start. It started with a class lead by the older dancers before you announce to the dancers (and parents who are in the show) that you will be backstage and it will be running at show conditions. That would include all costumes, props, drops, hair, and makeup. You then watch the crew set up for the top of the show after doing an alcohol sweep as well as doing a channel check for the lights. You make your way off stage to give a 15 minute warning to the company before stopping at a rather confused figure entering backstage.

“Max?”

“Ah! Mijn liefje” Max announces as you come over to him, “There you are. This place is gigantic. Thank god you have signs because I would’ve gotten lost.” Max laughs softly while holding a bag and your favorite glass tumbler with iced coffee.

You take the bag and plop it in your chair at your little stage management podium before grabbing the mic and giving the 15 minute warning. Pushing the mic away, you take the coffee from Max, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to give you your lunch. You left it at home and you also were rushing out the door. You didn’t even think about making coffee.” Leaning over to look at your station, he leans back, “and apparently you didn’t even stop for iced coffee.” Pressing the back of his hand gently to your forehead, “are you sick?”

“Ha ha.” You start as you take a sip of your iced coffee and feel the caffeine hit your system which is a breath of fresh air for you, “I overslept and since I needed to open the theater and get everything set up, I didn’t bother.” You shrug casually, “I was just planning on ordering something and having a crew member grab it for me.”

Max stares at you and blinks.

“What?”

“Why would you order something? You can just text me. I’ll drop it off.”

“Oh well, I didn’t know if you’d be on the sim or something so,” you shrug casually, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Nonsense,” Max pulls his brows together, “you can—” you hold a finger up to signal ‘just a moment’ before pulling the mic back down to give a ten minute warning. It’s early but dancers are never on time. Pushing the mic away you gesture for Max to continue, “—just text me anytime when I’m home. Nothing can be more important than you.” Huffing his cheeks out in slight annoyance, “just for that I’m going to stay in case you need anything.”

Putting your lips together you let it mull over. Technically, Max should not be backstage considering he was not a part of the show at all but after the day you had yesterday, you would love to see your boyfriend.

“Fine.” You hold a hand up, “but you have to follow some rules.”

“Y/N.” Max wiggles his nose slightly.

“Max. You have to follow these rules if you want to stay. I’m already breaking one by letting you stay. Technically if you aren’t a dancer, a parent, or a part of the crew you should not be back here so please.”

“Fine. What are the rules.”

“Don’t be too loud. Don’t touch anything on the table or even think about touching the fly rail system. You can pull a chair up and sit by me but don’t wander, please. Also please, for the love of god, when I say ‘standby’ on headset do not speak. I need complete silence and that goes for everyone else around me and everyone on headset.” You look at your boyfriend, “can you do that?”

“Easy.”

“You say that now.” You smile, “you can always step out if needed.”

You turn to give the five minute warning as Max snorts before finding a chair and bringing it over. Once you give the final ‘places for top of show’ you sit in your own chair and put your headset on.

“Coms check. Rail?”

“Here.”

“Thank you. Lighting?”

“I’m here!"

“Great! Spot one?”

“Hello hello.”

“Hey there. Spot two?”

“Yuuuuuuur!”

“Yuuuuuuuur.” You grin. “Sound?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Wonderful! Rail, can I have the main in?”

“Working.” It gives a beat as you watch the main curtain come in on the monitor before you hear “complete” on the coms.

Thank you. Finally, stage left?”

“Ready whenever you are.”

“That’s what I love to hear.” You sing and try to ignore Max looking up at you in awe seeing you in your element. Opening your iPad case, you pull the “script” up, which is just the score with all the cues, as you hear the door behind you open. You glance down and snicker at Max’s face twisting from awe to shock as all the children and adults start filing in. You mouth ‘I told you’ before turning back to the monitor as you crack your neck.

“Alright everyone. Have a great show! Standby sound for pre-show, LX for lights 101 and 102 and rail out. Pre-show and lights 101 go.” You listen to the announcement as you watch the house lights dim as the show begins.

You go from sitting to standing. Even though you had a wired headset, it was long enough that you could pace back and forth in between calls to make sure everything was fine. A few times, you turn and jump when Max is behind you. You almost yell at him before realizing and taking a breath. He offers a sheepish smile and murmurs an ‘apology’ because it was a force of habit that Max turns into your shadow when you start moving. You mouth ‘that it’s fine but you need to sit‘ because you did not need something going wrong while Max is trying to be your shadow.

The first act goes without a hitch. After the curtain drops the dancers scatter off the stage chatting and laughing when intermissions rolls around as you give a 15 minute warning for the top of act 2. You lean back in your chair, taking your headset off and closing your eyes for a moment.

“Wow.”

You open your eyes as you bring your gaze to your boyfriend. Your eyes meet turquoise eyes shining in awe, “You’re amazing at stage managing.”

You blush slightly and break your gaze first. “Oh, thanks babe. It’s nothing, really.”

“Do not start to undersell yourself. I mean it, Y/N.” Max turns to face you, leaning on the arm of your chair and you can’t help to bring your gaze back to your boyfriend, “I mean it. Sure, I don’t understand most of what is going on but I know damn well that if you put me in front of that iPad and told me to do it I would be utterly lost. Even with a show that has words, I wouldn’t be able to do half the things you do while also being extremely professional and nice,” leaning in his voice drops as he murmurs, “because you are right. Dance moms are fucking cunts.” Leaning back and clearing his throat, “Really. You’re amazing at this.”

Typically, you brush compliments off when it comes to your job because it’s well, your job. You know how hard and demanding the job is sometimes and you always joke that you truly hate yourself to put yourself through this torture but it was rewarding at the end of the day. Though hearing it come from Max, who knows little to theater, your heart flutters as you melt into your chair slightly. “Thank you, babe.” You murmur softly as you gently while rubbing soothing circles into his cheek. You smile as Max leans into your touch, kissing your palm gently.

“Of course, mijn liefje.” Max murmurs softly as he settles down as you turn away to grab the mic. You continue to make the calls to the company before act two is under way.

By some miracle, Mr. Dimitri is pleased after the second run through of the show and ends rehearsal early which you’re thankful for. You get the report out along with the daily schedule before making your way onto stage with your crew to run them through what the game plan would be for opening night. You make sure everything backstage is locked up before walking out the front lobby with Max saying goodbye to the front of house staff, who in return say goodbye to the two of you.

Once outside, both you and Max shield your eyes since it’s still sunny out though you put your hand down only a moment after, eyes readjusting.

“Fucking hell,” Max mutters as he blinks a few times and his eyes readjust. “How did you readjust so fast?”

“When you do this so often, your eyes just train themselves.” You explain, “Well…I didn’t actually plan to get out as early as we did so is there anything you want to do?”

Ruffling through his pockets, “I do.” Max pulls out a ticket and hands it to you with the most innocent shit eating grin.

Raising a brow, you take the ticket and laugh. It’s one of the homemade tickets you made for Max. He’s decided to cash his ‘one free cuddle session for however long the owner of the tickets wants’. “Well, Mr. Verstappen, how long are you requesting a cuddle session?”

Pulling you in by your waist, Max hums softly and tilts his head. “Rest of the day?”

Wrapping your arms around Max’s neck, “I can do that.”

“Well, come on.” Max gently tugs you and you giggle, stumbling into Max slightly as he leads you two to his arm.

#moonlight releases #nutcrakcer after hours #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #mv33 fluff #mv33 x reader #mv33 imagine #mv33 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #moonlight records holiday advent calendar #mlr.hac day 4

112 notes · View notes