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xxsksxxx · 7 months

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Liberating the Mirage

Summary:

When an assignment goes horribly wrong, Mulder has to race against time to find Scully.

But sometimes the line between reality and illusion blurs—and it turns out there’s more than one locked door that needs to be opened.

Notes:

This is my contribution to Fictober, a yearly event that celebrates writing and reading—and fall. All of which are good things in my world.

Since there’s no way I can come up with a new story every day, I’ve decided to write one fic that includes all prompts from the Fictober 2023 prompt list. They’re all in bold if you want to seek them out specifically. You can find the list here: Fictober 202

I’m dedicating this final chapter to @baronessblixen who’s encouraged me throughout this journey!

I would’ve never had the courage to try my hand at writing (and actually posting!) if it wasn’t for her. So, thank you, my friend.

I hope you’ll have as much fun reading this fic as I had writing it.

AO3 | Start at the Beginning | @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023

Epilogue

Holy Cross Memorial Hospital, Washington, D.C.

Mulder pressed his back against the wall of the long hallway and stealthily crept from door to door. If he didn’t have to worry about getting caught, he would’ve laughed. It seemed creeping along walls was all he did these days. The consequences of getting caught this time would be very different from last night though, even if they were not any less dire. Hospitals didn’t appreciate people sneaking into patients’ rooms after visiting hours, he’d learned over the years. Usually, he didn’t care about those things, but this time he didn’t want to take any chances.

When he finally reached the door marked with the number 603 he let out a breath and took a careful look around. He was alone in the hallway; the only sound was the humming of the overhead neon lights. He silently opened the heavy door to the hospital room and sneaked inside, quickly closing it behind him again. Someone had drawn the blinds, and only small slivers of sunlight fell onto the white covers of the bed standing close to the window.

Scully was lying in her hospital bed, her eyes closed. He quietly walked over to her bedside, his sneakers squeaking softly on the linoleum floor, and stared down at her. The machine monitoring her blood pressure hummed softly in the dimly lit room.

Her breath was slow and deep, and Mulder let out a relieved sigh. It would take some time until he stopped worrying after her latest adventure. His fingers brushed a strand of hair off of her forehead, and the slight contact of his hand with her face caused her to stir, her eyes fluttering open to look at him.

“Mulder? What are you doing here?” she asked, not the slightest hint of surprise in her voice at seeing him there.

“I needed to see you. Make sure you’re okay,” he said simply and took her hand in his, playing tag with her thumb. Scully watched their hands silently, pressing her thumb back against his, lost in thought.

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she said reverently. “There’s just a lot on my mind.”

Mulder nodded while keeping his gaze on their still joined hands, afraid she’d be able to read him like a book. “I talked to Skinner this morning. Our host was still in the basement where we had locked him up. It seems he couldn’t find a way out either.”

Scully looked up. “What about Connolly? Did they catch him as well?”

Mulder shook his head, not raising his eyes. “No. There’s no trace of him. He disappeared.”

Scully stayed silent, returning her eyes to their joined hands after a while.

“Did you talk to the doctor? When will you be able to go home?” Mulder finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Tomorrow. They did a full check-up and blood work today. I had an allergic reaction to the drug he injected me with. But apart from a few scratches and bruises, I’m okay now.”

Mulder finally raised his eyes to hers. “Who’s going to take care of you? Is your mother coming over or do you want me to pick you up?”

Scully looked up at him and then quickly avoided his eyes again. “Would you mind taking me home tomorrow? My mom’s just going to fuss and worry, and I’d rather not have her make a big deal out of a few bruises.” She kept fiddling with his thumb, circling hers around it again and again.

Mulder watched her for a moment. “What’s going on, Scully?” he asked softly.

“What do you mean,” she replied, still not looking at him.

Mulder squeezed her hand gently as he curled his fingers over her thumb, forcing it down into his palm. “You’re not looking at me, Scully. What’s this about,” he hesitated as a thought suddenly struck him. “Is this about our kiss?” he asked quietly.

Scully’s fingers twitched in his grasp. Bull’s eye, he thought grimly. His heart picked up speed, and he started to sweat. “Do you regret it, Scully?” he asked monotonously, his face a mask even though his heart was beating wildly.

Scully quickly looked up at him, searching his face. “Do you?” she asked, her face unreadable.

“No, I don’t,” he said firmly. “But if you do, I… I want you to know I understand. I know it wasn’t the best of circumstances, and you were probably still feeling the drugs,” he rambled nervously. “So, what I’m trying to say here is, that if you didn’t like it, and you’d rather forget it happened…” he waved his free hand around vaguely.

“I’m not saying I didn’t like it,” Scully said, amusement tinging her voice.

Mulder dropped their joined hands down to the bed covers and exhaled. “What are you saying then, Scully?” he asked, watching her intently.

“If I remember correctly, Mulder, it was me who kissed you. And I don’t want to forget. But in case you forgot, I can remind you,” she said with a smile.

She tugged on his hand in hers and pulled him closer, tenderly putting her free hand behind his neck.

Mulder was watching her with wide eyes, and she pulled him in for a kiss. This time he didn’t hesitate and deepened the kiss immediately, pressing his lips to hers.

Neither of them noticed the rays of the setting sun streaming through the hospital window, bathing the hospital room in soothing colors and engulfing their faces in a warm glow.

The End.

***

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed my contribution to Fictober 2023.

And if you want to comment, please feel free. You'd make my day—just be kind. You can also find this fic on AO3.

#xfiles #mulder and scully #xf fanfic #fictober23 #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #the x files #fictober event #fictober 2023 #xffictober #xffictober23 #i wrote this #Liberating the Mirage

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lostmyshadesanon · 2 years

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🦊 Here with my yearly contribution to the melting of @teyvat-writer 's braincells. A lot less set up to this one compared to last year, I hope you can forgive me, and I hope you have a lovely 🍰 day and many a good fortune! This one is early so it's not their bday yet everyone.

Stefano Valentini x Male!Reader (Part 1/?)

Tags: NSFW. No smut this chapter unfortunately. Violence. Blood. Death. The rude public. It's Stefano guys come on.

You stood outside the Krimson City Gallery freezing your ass off. You were shivering harder than that poor Chihuahua that passed you tucked away in it's owner's Gucci handbag.

Tonight all the rich and richer were gathering at the gallery to watch the grand unveiling of an artist you hadn't quite caught the name of. But you felt that you should be cut some slack considering that you were running on five hours of total sleep in the past three days, a stomach load of that vile tar the break room called coffee, and enough spite to reanimate the dead.

The "perks" of being the new rookie cop for the Krimson City Police Force meant that you were everyone's bitch. Or the more polite term would be the team gopher. Go for this and go for that. Get these files scanned in before lunch newbie, go get coffee for the detectives newbie, call the 80 year old technophobic witness who screams in your ears for hours newbie, and you could go on but you're afraid you'll knock yourself out reciting the mundane list of tasks.

And now to add to the list you were acting as line security during the dead of winter checking entrance seeker's tickets, and taking the brunt of those in lines irritability due to the cold. It had been a last minute assignment by the chief to add you to the group participating in the gallery's security and because of that your wardrobe was vastly unprepared.

You were supporting just the basic KPD uniform, which was more suited for the spring or fall, a red scarf you had just had the for thought to snag from your locker before being whisked out the door, your uniform's hat that didn't even brush your ears leaving them a bright red due to the biting cold, and your thermal socks desperately fighting to keep your toes from becoming ice blocks.

You squinted your eyes against the piercing wind, customer service smile plastered on your face, as you stamped the entrance ticket for another guest, that's coat cost more than your monthly rent as they angrily ranted about how long they had to wait in line, and did you know who they are?!?!

Externally you bowed your head in apology, and gestured them off to the next officer in line that was fortunately for them, and filled you with jealousy, inside the door to take their coat to check for weapons. Internally you glanced down at the rude event goer's red soled stilletos and contemplated how easy it would be run the point heel into the top of their foot on "accident" not enough to break the arch but enough to leave a bruise for DAYS.

Your smile just that much more plastic you turned to the next person in line. Locking eyes with very amused brown ones. You jolted up into formal posture trying to raise your shaking limbs into a salute, but they couldn't stay still long enough to hold the posture.

"Detective Castellanos!" You stuttered teeth chattering.

His eyes raked over you quickly before he whistled and shook his head at your appearance. "Damn, they're really running you hard aren't they newbie? Hand off your gear to Kidman here. She'll take over. And we'll take you to the break room to get warmed up."

You were ready to cry with gratitude if you didn't think it would freeze your lids shut. Carefully you handed off the stamp and entry list to Junior Detective Kidman and stumbled after Detective Castellanos.

Once inside the gallery he swiftly lead you through a side door and into a break room full of officers, a white board full of scribbles and grainy printed off pictures, and what looked like a table full of catered snacks. Detective Castellanos dropped you off in a chair next to the heater before detouring back to the whiteboard.

"All Right!" Castellanos called out silencing the idle chatter amongst the officers. "You all know why we're here, but just as a recap. There is a murderer going around pretending to be the next Van Gogh. He's kidnapping the rich and the beautiful before brutally mutilating them and then murdering them. He leaves photos at the crime scenes of the victims last moments before death, and what our analysts say is his form of a signature on his "art". A big show like this art exhibit is a prime space for him to kidnap a new victim, or and our analysts believe he has enough of an ego, to try and hijack this event and show off his "art" in place of Mr. Valentini's. Stay on your toes! That is all."

The crowd of officer started to disperse towards their assigned tasks, and thankfully to your nearly clutching the heater had warmed you up enough that you only had slight numbness and tingles in your extremities. Detective Castellanos popped up in front of you again grabbing you by the back of your uniform and bustling you out of the room. "Your with me newbie. Time to learn!"

Excitement hummed through your blood. You're sure with the amount of officers on the premise that, the newspaper appointed Photo Killer, wouldn't dare try something tonight but it's the most exciting thing that's happened to you all week! Carefully following Detective Castellanos around the Gallery as he pointed out places of entry, suspicious activity of viewers and what it could mean, and the rotation of officers in and out of the building.

Throughout the evening you had gotten close enough to Detective Castellanos for him to allow you to call him as just Detective or Sebastian, apparently Castellanos reminds him to much of when his mother would scream at him across the house when she was mad he released frogs indoors. You also learned about some of his past like he was divorced, and when he took on his new partners Joseph and Kidman. He even ruffled your hair at some point in the night though you jammed him in the side for that one, freezing for a moment in fear at the blatant disrespect before relaxing when Sebastian laughed through his wheezing, due to the pain.

You were filled with the determination to learn and a subtle need to please the Detective that seemed to be taking you under his wing! If you did well he might add you to his team which would be a fast pass to becoming a detective. At least you were determined for the first few hours by the time it was pushing close to midnight and you were now at close to four days without sleep you were about at your limit.

You could tell Sebastian was getting close to suggesting you call it a night, when the bell tolled midnight, and the lights cut out with a sudden pop. Screaming filled the venue when you felt Sebastian grab your arm firmly and start pulling you closer to a wall so as not to get separated. He was barking into the walkie talkie demanding to know what was going on.

As you were being pulled forward you swore you could taste something metallic just in the back of your throat. It reminded you of pennies you had been dared to put in your mouth back in your play ground days but where was it coming from?

Just as suddenly as the light went out a spot light appeared in the direction Sebastian was dragging you. A woman doing the splits was within the lights, her hands tied up above her head similar to a ballerina's pose her red soled pointing towards the cieling easily visible, her terrified but familiar eyes locked with yours before the lights clicked off again. A camera flash illuminated her for a brief second, and you saw a man standing over the woman with a knife, before the lights flooded the venue back to full brightness once more.

The woman was dead at your feet, blood pouring from her throat and stomach staining her outfit, in a manner similar to a tutu, a dark red and spreading slowly outwards to cover your feet. You knew her. It was the rude woman from the line. The one you could vaguely remember daydreaming about stomping on her foot with the very heels you could so clearly see now. Distantly you heard Sebastian curse as all hell broke loose behind you as gallery goer's screamed and tried to run for the exists.

"Newbie!" Sebastian yelled, "Secure the crime scene! Don't let anyone touch her. I have to make sure that no one leaves the premise! Our killer's here!" Sebastian repeated his orders into the walkie talkie as he sprinted towards the main entrance.

You didn't have to do much everyone was giving the woman a wide birth, if they were anywhere close at all. Carefully observing her while your fellow officers rushed around the scene. You jolted in shock when a man got close to you from behind.

"Sir you can't get any closer this is a crime scene!" You hurried exclaimed while turning around your eyes immediately connected with an intrigued blue grey eye, the other covered carefully up by dark brown hair.

"I wasn't going to disturb her." The man said his voice more of a pur. "But I admit I was a bit curious about the beautiful man appraising her so closely when he didn't take a single look at my gallery all night, and to learn what about her intrigues him so?" Icy eyes staring deeply into your own his head tilting in question and a rogueish smile tilting the corners of his lips pulling at the barely visible scaring under his fringe.

"Oh! You must be Mr. Valentini! You saw me? How? I mean how did you see I didn't admire your work?" You stuttered out about to continue asking the man to back away from the crime scene when he caught your gesturing hand and brought it to his slightly chapped lips.

"For a beautiful treasure such as yourself I am Stefano, and your scarf... it's as red as blood if you'll forgive the comparison and quite easy to track in a crowded hall such as this, and you dodged my question treasure." The question pulled from deep in the back of the artist's throat.

"Oh well," You stumbled over your answer a combination of nerves due to the inappropriate nature of your answers, and not wanting to offend the attractive man in front of you.

"Don't worry, treasure. I'm am artist any instructive criticism of my work is always welcomed." You flushed at the continued use of the pet name, and also the continued stroke of his gloved hand over your pulse as he retained ownership of your own. Though you had this small niggling feeling that the artist's words had more meaning than you thought.

You glanced around at all the paintings hung proudly around the Gallery. Before a brief flash of light drew your eyes down to a Polaroid of the poor victim floating softly in her blood. Guilty you glanced down and back up at him before stating, "Passion."

Stefano blinked slowly like a cat before mouthing the word. "Passion?"

You nodded swallowing thickly before continuing, "Your work is pretty. Don't get me wrong. Mr. Valent... Stefano! But it's kind of lifeless... That sounds terrible. It's just doesn't really have any feeling or passion in it."

Stefano continued to stroke your pulse with his thumb gesturing for you to continue but you could feel his grip become stronger his thumb pressing firmer against your wrist.

"But whomever the Photo Killer is. There's no denying his passion. It's terrible to say but each of his victims in their photos do look beautiful in a macabre sort of way... If he could get the same result without killing people I'm sure he'd be world famous because people would be moved by the passion he possesses for each of his works..." You were starting to feel a little uncomfortable as Stefano's grip continued to tightened the swiping thumb becoming faster and faster. You felt like you had tingles running down your spin from how intently he watched you.

"Yes," Stefano said in an almost could you say mournful voice? "If only such materials existed to communicate such art... Legally."

"Newbie!" The shout from Sebastian broke your staring contest with the artist. "Good you kept Mr. Valentini for questioning, and secured the crime scene." Sebastian carefully extracted you from Stefano's hold rubbing your wrist before directing you towards the door. Sebastian's eyes narrowed in distrust towards the artist's avid attention towards you.

Sebastian turned his head back to you. "Joseph just arrived why don't you give your statement to him, and head home I know you've been up for almost a week."

You nodded in understanding turning a way from that burning gaze and headed towards the door stopping only once at Stefano's call. "We should meet again soon, treasure. Our discussion on artistic perception was very enlightening."

You turned back enough to nod in understanding before continuing forward. You couldn't get your wrist to step tingling even after giving your statement to Joseph and you could feel that gaze tracking you everywhere.

Even when you get home and peeled off your uniformed. Only giving a brief thought to where your red scarf had disappeared to. You were more entranced by the clear ring of bruising around your wrist in the stark form of a hand print.

A/N:

Can I just say how much I hate that they spelled Stefano with an F instead of with a PH. Drives me insane.

I'm also a liar. I said there would be less setting for this one, and look at this a whole part one? What is this nonsense???

Once again Felix I hope you are doing amazing and if you want this edited at all to fit your preferences more just let me know. Just tell me if it's to much gore.

#stefano valentini #the evil within #the evil within 2 #stefano valentini x reader #stefano valentini x male!reader #sebastian castellanos

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punkpoemprose · 1 year

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I posted 552 times in 2022

25 posts created (5%)

527 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@leonardslee

@karis-the-fangirl

@rainbow-femme

@briarlily

@blue-toast17

I tagged 175 of my posts in 2022

#kristanna - 43 posts

#i love queue baby - 38 posts

#kristanna advent 2022 - 17 posts

#art rec - 16 posts

#frozen - 6 posts

#a convenient arrangement - 6 posts

#this is gorgeous - 4 posts

#arranged marriage au - 4 posts

#virtual chemistry - 4 posts

#modern au - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#also i think about how my father got back into carpentry and woodworking after many many years because my mom saw a wooden snowman online

My Top Posts in 2022:

Kristanna Advent 2022

25 Days, 25 new Kristanna fanfics written for the season. A mixture of oneshots, continuations of multi-chap fics, and more. Welcome to my yearly attempt to make it happen. Fics below the cut, updated daily December 1st- 25th

December 1st- A Convenient Arrangement Chapter 13

December 2nd- Siege of Arendelle Chapter 17

December 3rd- A Convenient Arrangement Chapter 14

December 4th- Virtual Chemistry Part 7

December 5th- Yule Shoot Your Eye Out [Oneshot Modern AU]

December 6th- Anything For You [Oneshot Modern AU]

December 7th- A Safe Place [Canonverse Oneshot]

December 8th- Hunter’s Daughter [Vampire AU/ Vampire Hunter AU]

December 9th- Virtual Chemistry Part 8

December 10th- The Patient [Modern AU/ Paramedic AU]

December 11th- Homemade Holiday [Canonverse Oneshot]

December 12th- TBD

December 13th- TBD

December 14th- TBD

December 15th- TBD

December 16th- TBD

December 17th- TBD

December 18th- TBD

December 19th- TBD

December 20th- TBD

December 21st- TBD

December 22nd- TBD

December 23rd- TBD

December 24th- TBD

December 25th- TBD

29 notes - Posted November 24, 2022

The Patient- A Kristanna Paramedic Oneshot

Universe: Modern AU/ Paramedic AU

Rating: T (13+)

Length: 2267 Words

Summary: Anna has to call 911 after a small fire breaks out in her condo. The hot blonde paramedic is the best and worst part of her day.

A/N: Day 10 of the 2022 Advent Calendar. I’ve managed to get behind again, of course, and I had to write this prone on my bedroom floor because I’ve fucked my back up, but you know what, I’m going to keep going anyway. Please ignore any factual errors about paramedics and medicine here, I did a little research, but otherwise I just wanted these two idiots to smooch under a new circumstance.

Today was, decidedly, not Anna’s day.

She sat, mortified, in the back of the ambulance with the most attractive man she’d ever met in her life, mutely checking her over for injuries.

“Really, I’m alright,” she said, then coughed, “I didn’t get burnt or anything when I was turning off the oven and using the fire extinguisher, I just couldn’t let the smoke out of my kitchen because the window was painted shut.”

She coughed again, not exactly proving her point that she was, in fact, fine. This was what she got for paying someone to renovate her condo without triple checking all their references and their work. Her detail obsessed sister would be so disappointed in her.

“Smoke inhalation is a very serious problem Ms. Arendelle.”

He was so serious in both tone and expression when he turned to his colleague to ask them to grab a mask and an oxygen canister.

She felt her face grow hot, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she maybe had inhaled a little too much smoke when her oven decided to catch fire for no good reason, other than perhaps spite. She’d just bought it and had it installed, and she wasn’t wholly convinced that the ghost of her last oven wasn’t possessing the new one because she’d only been preheating the empty appliance when the fire started inside it.

“Really, I’m fine.”

He was having none of it. He gave her a very unimpressed look, which both frustrated her and contributed to her blush. He was very attractive, but he also was clearly a hard-ass with lacking bedside manner.

She glanced at the name tag attached to his shirt and read “K. Bjorgman”.

K? Kyle? Kameron? Karson?

No, none of those seemed quite right for Mr. Hard-ass.

“Here’s that tank Kristoff.”

Kristoff? What the hell kind of name was that? Must be short for Kristoffer.

“Are you refusing treatment?”

She looked from his nametag back to his face. He looked infuriatingly displeased and she thought about saying that she was just to bug him, but that probably wasn’t ideal for her health given that the other paramedic hadn’t argued with him about the need for oxygen.

“No, I just think this is a little overkill probably, it was just a small kitchen fire.”

“With no ventilation where your oven was burning… what exactly?”

“Itself,” she answered miserably, “Because of course it would.”

“Right, so potentially plastic, chemical surfactants and whatever else should or shouldn’t have been in there at the point of ignition.”

She threw her hands up, “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say Mr. expert.”

He seemed to smile, just a small quirk in the corner of his mouth, but it was something. She wasn’t sure whether he was just used to getting what he wanted and was happy because his gruff attitude and good looks combo was working out for him once again, or whether he actually found her funny.

She was mad that it made him somehow even more attractive and that it made her want to continue to comply.

***

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31 notes - Posted December 11, 2022

A Convenient Arrangement Part 12

Universe: Canonverse Arranged Marriage AU Rating:T Length: 3530 Words A/N: Thank you to the friends that lovingly remind me to write sometimes. Next chapter will be the engagement party, I promise!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part10] [Part 11]

The festival preparations were back in full swing in no time. Kristoff saw Anna every night now, they shared his bed every evening and woke whenever one or both of them were summoned by morning knocks against his door. Getting to bed together was an immense effort on both of their parts, but it was something that he knew they both treasured after long days with barely a glance at each other.

Given it was a festival in celebration of their marriage, he couldn’t help but feel that they really should have been allowed more time together to prepare, but unfortunately neither of them made their own schedules.

Anna promised at night, between sleepy kisses, that it would get better after the event was over. She told him that once they started their regular duties they would be apart less, or at least their time apart would be more regularly scheduled which would allow them to meet more often throughout the day. He wasn’t certain that she wholly believed it herself, but despite this, the hope was enough to buoy them both through the days of preparation. The quick morning kisses and embraces did their fair share to serve as encouragement as well.

“Does it fit well my lord?”

Kristoff smiled at his reflection in the mirror. His normal tailor, Anders Nilsson, had been more than happy to take up a royal contract, and had profusely thanked both Kristoff and Kai throughout the entire process of his making Kristoff’s festival wear. He’d had to ask him to stop using the words “thank you” after a while, simply for the fact that the man couldn’t stop saying it. Kristoff knew how much the commission had meant to the man, he didn’t want him to feel the need to express it in the first place, let alone repeat it.

He’d outdone himself. The suit was mostly black with green, purple, and golden details that marked him as a member of the royal family and were enough to make the garments stand out in a crowd. They weren’t so overembellished that they felt ostentatious but were rather inspired by his own plainer sensibilities.

Most blessedly it fit, and he could imagine himself wearing it without passing out.

“Yes,” he breathed with great appreciation toward the tailor, “Thank you so much Anders. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you to put this together so quickly.”

“You’d be surprised Kri… my lord.”

He settled into a deep bow and Kristoff could have snorted with how unnatural it looked given the man never had cause to bow before in his life until Kristoff had married Anna. There was no point to bow to harvesters and merchants who were just as common as you.

“Anders, please, just call me Kristoff.”

Kai smiled in the mirror behind him. He’d been encouraging him for weeks to insist upon others referring to him by his title, but evidently his valet found no issues with a man being informal with his own tailor.

“Kristoff,” the tailor said and visibly relaxed before continuing, “It didn’t take too terribly long. My wife likes to do the embroidery and she’s so far along now that she was practically begging me to give her something to do in her chair. She balanced the whole project on her belly as she worked. She insists, though I hope it’s not too forward, that I give her appreciation to your valet for sending her the exact patterns the Princess’s dressmaker was using for her gown’s embroidery.”

He thought for a moment about Ander’s wife. When he’d last seen her, she’d barely been showing. By now she must certainly be as round with child as the tailor described. He was pleased that despite the effort they must have expended working on his clothes, that he was able to send some money their way for that soon to arrive child. He nearly lost himself in a passing thought about how Anna might look with her hands pressed lovingly to her rounded abdomen, the ring he still needed to give her on her finger.

He forced himself out of the daydream. He’d told Anna that they never needed to have children together, that they never even needed to be intimate, and here he was dreaming of her carrying his child, instead of paying attention to the words that had just been said to him.

Patterns? For her gown’s embroidery?

Kristoff turned back to Kai then, who was smiling as broad as Kristoff ever saw him. “Anna and I are going to match?”

He wasn’t certain as to why it made his heart leap in the way it did, to imagine himself and Anna dressed as a pair. Everyone knew of their marriage, there was no doubting that, and yet a visual cue to their bond thrilled him in a way he’d never imagined clothes pleasing him. So many things that had never mattered to him before, now mattered because of Anna.

Kai nodded, his grin schooling itself somewhat into a more neutral expression.

“At the behest of the Queen, and the Princess’s as well, of course. She wanted no question of who her husband was. I have a feeling the regalia will leave no room for that question, but primarily I think the pair of them were hoping for a united front in every possible detail. Which brings me to our need to take our leave from this room, I’m afraid we’re overdue for our next appointment of the day my lord.”

Kristoff couldn’t help but to sigh, shaken from his momentary quiet revelry. He’d been rushed along every day for well over a week now, any of the relaxation of his and Anna’s “day off” was a distant memory now.

“Fine then, I’ll get changed.”

He looked down at the comfortably fitted suit and felt, strangely, like he didn’t want to take it off.

“Thank you, Anders, it’s fantastic. Please thank your wife for me and know that there will be more requests coming your way very soon. There will be no need for a rush of course, if I don’t see you again before your babe is born, my best wishes to you both for a happy and healthy child.”

Kristoff watched the man open and close his mouth, undoubtedly stifling a “thank you” Kristoff didn’t really want to hear in return.

There are some perks to a royal title certainly.

***

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33 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

Bitches really be out here writing Kristanna smut in our year of the Lord 2022.

It's me. I'm bitches.

37 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

A Convenient Arrangement Part 11

Universe: Canonverse Arranged Marriage AU Rating:T Length: 3840 Words A/N: Finally finished this speed-bump of a chapter. Hopefully now that it’s written it won’t take me nine months to do the next bit.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part10]

The last thing Anna wanted was to let him leave the castle. Frankly, she wanted to lock him in the room and keep kissing him until they were called away to their duties, or until they fell asleep, whichever happened first.

Probably sleep.

She was exhausted. She’d been tired all week, and while their day’s reprieve had been a comfort, she still felt a deep fatigue that seemed to settle in her very bones. He was tired too. She saw it in his eyes when he broke their kiss. If she would have led him to the bed, wrapped them in blankets and promised that they could stay like that for the rest of the evening, he would have wanted to stay.

I should have convinced him.

Instead, she’d encouraged him to go see his family. She knew that it was the right thing to do, that he wouldn’t have wanted to leave her unless it was important. She didn’t want to interfere with his traditions and when he didn’t invite her along, she knew that it must be for a reason.

She didn’t have the time to ask him all the things she wanted to, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to see him off at the gates without running after him, so she’d watched him from a window instead. She’d stood and quieted every voice in her head that told her he wasn’t coming back. She’d watched dutifully, keeping her feet still and her hands braced on the windowpane as he and Sven rode off until she could no longer see either of them.

She’d only allowed herself to move when she knew that it would be impossible to follow them, when the sky started to darken, and she was certain that she would only get lost if she tried to tail them up the mountain. Even then, knowing all she did about exactly how it would go, it took all her energy not to follow.

Her lips still felt the ghost of his upon them. She wished that she would have stolen a goodbye kiss, a goodnight kiss, or a just because kiss because she knew that she’d be missing the feel of it until he returned.

Instead of marching to the front doors, her feet carried her on autopilot to her sister’s office door.

She knew that Elsa would be in her office. There was nowhere else she would be on an evening without courtly duties. Someone who was not in the know might imagine that she would be in her bedroom, or relaxing in the library, but Anna knew that her sister would be pouring over paperwork.

It was difficult for Anna to knock on her sister’s office door. Physically speaking it was, of course, quite simple, but making her knuckles rap against the door and having to trust that her sister would answer was still difficult. She had forgiven Elsa for the years of isolation they’d both faced, but she hadn’t forgotten. She was certain that she and Elsa could grow close and communicate daily for the rest of their lives and Anna still wouldn’t ever forget what it felt like to knock on her sister’s door and have it go unanswered.

It had felt like she was mourning the death of someone who was still very much alive.

“Come in.”

Anna didn’t need to be told twice. She could feel the muscles she’d not realized she was tensing relax in her arms and legs. The anxiety in her stomach quelled.

Pushing the door open and then closed again behind her, Anna found Elsa very much as she had expected her. Her pale face framed by mussed blond tresses that were, themselves, almost as white as the piles of paper around her on the desk.

“Oh! Anna, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you were spending the day with Kristoff?”

Anna wasn’t sure what made her happier, the way her arrival seemed to be a splendid surprise to her sister, or the way that Elsa so pleasantly mentioned Kristoff by name. It surprised her how quickly Elsa had gone from thinking her husband was some brute, to calling him by name and occasionally indulging in his company for brief moments.

Anna wondered if with a little more time, they might begin doing things as a family. She did think that Kristoff and Elsa could be friends with time, so she was pleased that they were something like acquaintances now. Anything was better than strangers, particularly now that Anna knew that her feelings for her husband weren’t only reciprocated but that they were fated.

“I was. He’s had to head up to the mountains to speak with his family.”

“The trolls?”

“Yes, the trolls,” Anna quickly replied.

“Ah, is there something going on?”

“Well yes, but it will take some explaining.”

Elsa nodded, seeming entirely too pleased to shift the pile of papers she’d been working on off to the side of her desk. Anna knew that Elsa had been making efforts to get closer to her, to get to know her better, and as infrequent as their moments alone were, Anna couldn’t help but to feel surprised that she was so ready to set her work aside.

She smile was somewhat sheepish when she returned her full attention to Anna.

“I should have taken a break hours ago anyway.”

***

See the full post

52 notes - Posted February 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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feelinprettyblue02 · 1 year

Text

I posted 870 times in 2022

That's 623 more posts than 2021!

308 posts created (35%)

562 posts reblogged (65%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@feelinprettyblue02

@oakskull

@bluestbluejay

@gardenergulfie

@yb-cringe

I tagged 866 of my posts in 2022

#feelinblue rb - 549 posts

#text post - 242 posts

#feelinblue ramble - 206 posts

#feelinblue rants - 73 posts

#mcytblr - 42 posts

#rainy day - 40 posts

#lifesteal smp - 37 posts

#school happenings - 32 posts

#digital art - 27 posts

#original art - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 106 characters

#impulse and bdubs get back to hermitcraft and are like sooooo are we still married or did death do us part

My Top Posts in 2022:

here’s my bi-yearly spoke contribution, this time a shitty ibis doodle i spent 20 mins on

59 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

branzy has made evil things to kill his friends and unleashed the murder clown on said friends 3 times (the funhouse and castle on lifesteal, the tnt base on echocraft)

something something once is an occurrence twice is a coincidence three times is a pattern something something "killing them with an unexpected explosion is kinda my love language" (source: branzy's "i re-hired minecraft's deadliest assassin" video) something something i will throw him at a wall (affectionate)

oh and also the fact that clown just goes with it every single time is very funny. the echocraft murder base was entirely optional sjkdfghkd

67 notes - Posted October 27, 2022

YOUR HONOUR I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THEY GIVE ME JOY (and shhhh i didn’t forget ren’s sunglasses nope not at all)

68 notes - Posted June 20, 2022

behold! all of mumbo's diamonds

79 notes - Posted May 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I DECIDED TO MAKE MEMES I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

83 notes - Posted June 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #trafficshipping

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destielficarchive · 3 years

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Welcome to the Destiel Fic Archive Project

Destiel, as a ship, is thirteen years old, and those years have seen vast changes in the nature of fandom and the way people share their works. They've also seen a constant stream of people entering and leaving the fandom, bringing their creativity with them, contributing their knowledge and skill to one of the richest ship fandoms on the entire internet. There are currently 94,000 works tagged Destiel on Archive of Our Own, and the ship was years old before AO3 was founded, so it's safe to say that in the past thirteen years more than 100,000 works have been created featuring our beloved Dean and Castiel. And while we still have many, many fics, countless works from the past have been deleted, or effectively "lost" by other means. This is tragic (well, aside from the ones that have been made into original fic and published, that's awesome) and work attrition continues to this day, with the most recent, public, high-profile deletion being apokteino’s decision to eliminate their account on New Year’s Eve of 2020.

The Fic Archive Project seeks to find, preserve, and archive as wide a range of Destiel works as possible, with an emphasis on:

Older, harder-to-find stories that have never been posted on AO3, and

Works that have been deleted from AO3, LJ, FF.net, or any other platform.

I (hi, I’m @unforth and this is my pet project) founded this project in 2018 as a spin off from the Destiel Favs Survey I administer yearly. I downloaded all works that received a vote, and tracked down any that had been deleted. That collection forms the core of the Archive, but over the years it has grown well beyond that. I now have a repository of nearly 15,000 Destiel works, and it grows all the time. Up to now, I’ve kept this project largely private; the only place it’s been available to the fandom is on the Profound Bond Discord server. However, in light of apokteino’s deletion, I’ve realized most people don’t know this is something I do, and don’t know that if they’re looking for a deleted fic, they can contact me. As such, I decided it was time to make a side-blog dedicated to the Archive, to help publicize it, grow it, and disseminate its contents.

I've created a spreadsheet to help navigate this collection, which you can access here: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1SWRvyj4DIAGGfo04_ba8LaDsJmlIfSxb2fn9TtqnlYM/edit?usp=sharing

Please be aware this is a living document so while I've done my best to keep it neat and organized and suitable for public viewing, I can't promise everything will always be in ship-shape when you view it. The first sheet of the linked workbook, "About This Workbook," contains extensive information about how the Archive is organized, decisions I've made on what and how to collect works, my personal to-do list, and numerous ways that anyone accessing the collection can help. If you’re interested in helping, or if you have copies of any of the works on my “lost fic” spreadsheet, please get in touch with me!

Feel free to drop this Tumblr an ask if you’re looking for something, or DM me for things that are available.

If you want a file, you must be willing to contact me off anon, as I will not be putting any files up for general distribution. The entire collection is backed up on g-drive but I do intend to open access to it - currently myself and cryptomoon (who has been beyond helpful throughout this and offered me server space) are the only two people who can access the actual archive. I send files by Discord message and/or e-mail.

Please note

if you are the author or know the author of a work that I’m currently distributing, and you know they’d rather things NOT be distributed, or have any other information that would help me better moderate this collection, please let me know.

if a work is marked as “Not for Distribution” I will not distribute it under any circumstances so do not ask.

Thanks for reading, welcome to the archive project, and I look forward to helping people find the fics they’re looking for!

#destiel #spn #the destiel fic archive

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angryschnauzer · 4 years

Text

Last Night on the Plain

Summary; As an archeology student at the end of your first year of University, you spend the summer on a dig in the South of England. Throughout the whole dig you’ve lusted after the site-lead; a fresh out of his doctorate Dr Cavill, assigned to the dig to get some leadership experience. Will the last night you spend on Salisbury Plain be one to remember?

(This fic is a prequel to my multichapter story Superior Specimen it can be read alone but contains spoilers for that story) Links for Superior Specimen: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Pairing: Grad Student Henry Cavill x 19 year old Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Mutual Pining, Professor/Student Relationship, Oral Sex, Blow Job, Fingering, Unprotected Sex. SPOILERS FOR Superior Specimen.

I do not operate a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you will get an alert every time i post a new fic.

Please check out my AO3 for masterlist.

Last Night on the Plain

Sitting on the kerb outside Iceland, the little town of Warminster was quiet on a Saturday afternoon. The Land Rover would soon be coming through to pick you and your friends up, the dig site lead having driven a few of you into town to collect supplies for the last night of the six week long dig.

Six weeks of living in tents, running to the nearby stream to dive into the Watercress filled waters and wash, rinsing your underwear in a bucket and hanging over guy ropes of the tents and hoping the cows in the next field over don’t lean over the fence and eat them, six weeks of celebrating the end of your first year of University.

You loved Archaeology, having studied hard for your A-Levels at college, you got the grades to go to Southampton University to study it. The dig would contribute towards your yearly grade, teaming up with other uni’s from around England, the excavations on the far west of Salisbury Plain in the south of England, and the project was to uncover settlements from when the giant pillars of Stonehenge were moved from their starting point in Wales and anything from the trade routes over the following millennia.

Your friend nudged you in the ribs, nodding to the vehicle heading towards the three of you;

“Hey hey, here comes Cav”

“Dibs on shotgun” you blurted out, your friends groaning at your speed at calling the front seat.

Standing, the three of you watched as the site lead pulled up to the kerb, his big smile at seeing you misfits waiting for him made your stomach do a little flip. He brought the Land Rover to a bumpy halt at the kerb, leaving the engine running as he got out and helped load the supplies into the back, reaching the front passenger door just in time to hold it open for you. You missed the way he looked at your ass as you climbed in, shutting the door after you.

The ride back to the dig site was bumpy; 30-year-old Land Rovers weren’t known for their comfort, the lack of seatbelts in the vintage vehicle not helping as the country roads and tracks were littered with potholes. You were painfully aware of the way your breasts were bouncing around, having foregone bras within the first week of the dig. They pinched and prodded you as you bent over excavating for hours on end and became an unnecessary addition to have to bother keep washing by hand.

On one particularly vicious bump you were bounced across the narrow bench seat, grabbing at Cav’s leg before you ended up headbutting the steering wheel. He apologetically smiled at you;

“Sorry…”

“S’ok”

You rode in silence for a while, the pair in the back deep in discussion about the merits of getting an upgrade from their Sony Ericsson’s to Blackberries. Finally your seatmate spoke;

“So, pink, huh Punk?”

You pulled at a strand of hair, holding it out from your head and grinned;

“The Sun-In turned it orange. Orange isn’t my colour”

“I left you in town for forty five minutes… how did you have time to dye your hair?” he said with a grin.

“It’s Cherry flavour Panda Pop. We stood in the alley behind Ladbrokes and poured a bottle over my hair”

He laughed, his toothy grin wide and genuine;

“That explains the smell”

“Hope you’re referring to the cherry and not the alley”

His face paled and he stuttered, before you grinned and gave his thigh a squeeze;

“I’m teasing”

He smiled and turned his attention back to the road, concentrating on the journey now that the paved roads had finished and it was now dusty tracks across the farmland. You watched as he steered the vehicle, and you knew he was going to be your only regret of the summer. Dr Cavill, or Cav as everyone called him on site, fresh having finished his doctorate in Palaeontology, but desperately in need of some leadership skills and experience on how to run a site dig. He was cute. Tall and fit, gorgeous blue eyes and high cheekbones, both of which were regularly hidden by his mop of soft chestnut brown hair. When he was deep in concentration he would nibble at his lip and it only made them plumper.

You were so in your little dream world that when he made the sharp right hand turn into the field the dig was in you lost your grip, your hand sliding from its spot on his thigh to in between his legs, your head low on his stomach;

“Oh!”

He slowed the Land Rover as you scrambled back to your seat, his cheeks flushed and pink.

“Sorry…”

The campfire was down to its last embers, the sun almost fully set. It was the last night of the dig and you were all celebrating. The finds had been fantastic, everything catalogued and recorded, friendships hatched and grown, sunburn peeling away to reveal soft skin, leave-in bleach hair sprays and nights of passing around a three litre bottle of White Lightning - the cheapest by volume cider you could find. Cav had excused himself to his tent, not often joining the students for the latter parts of drinking, and the nights argument was whether or not it was too late to walk the three miles to the Red Lion pub in Heytesbury.

“You guys go. I’m gonna take one last look at the north end trench, see if i can find my amethyst necklace I lost last week”

“Punk, you’re drunk, it’s getting dark too!”

“I’m not drunk, I’ve had a few sips of Cider, and I’ve got a head torch”

“Fine, suit yourself”

Brushing through the sandy soil you were yet to find your necklace, but as the friction under the brush suddenly changed you looked closer, smiling when you saw what was revealed.

Minutes later you stood at his tent, calling out;

“Cav? I’ve found something…”

He appeared in the doorway, the camping lantern illuminating his tent as it sat on the table where he would write his notes and inspect finds;

“Hey! What have you…” he saw the shards of pottery you were holding in your hands, his eyes going wide; “You found the last parts?”

Nodding you smiled. Throughout the dig the team had discovered finds from multiple era’s, and one he’d found was the majority of shards from a Roman Pot, an urn that would have been used to carry Olive Oil all the way from the southernmost parts of the Roman Empire. You knew that it had been frustrating him that all his attempts to reassemble the urn had failed, the missing pieces seemingly integral to the structure.

He pulled the tent flap to the side for you to enter, setting the pieces down onto the table before straddling the bench that sat beside it. Cav came over and grabbed the tray that held the other parts, a ball of blu-tack nestled in the corner;

“This is amazing! It looks like all the missing pieces are here!” he turned to you, his eyes shining bright in the glow of the lamp; “I thought you all were going to the pub?”

“I stayed… I wanted to have one last search for my necklace I lost last week”

“Oh… did you find it?”

“No. But this is so much better! C’mon, I wanna see if we can get this to fit together now!”

His long legs meant he could step over the bench with ease, sitting down next to you and you watched as he started to push the pieces together, cradling them in his large handspan. Softening the blu-tack he pulled a little off and applied it to the edge of a piece, angling his arm at an awkward angle, cursing under his breath;

“Could you…”

“Sure” taking the piece from him he held the fragile urn in both hands as you bent over his arms and stuck it into place, moving onto the next piece, this time near his hand furthest from you.

Due to the angles you were struggling to see, before you spoke quietly;

“Lean back a little”

He did as you asked, extending his arms to full stretch as he held the artefact, letting out a squeak of surprise as you tucked yourself under one arm, shuffling to straddling his lap and sit;

“Okay, now I can see what I’m doing…” you muttered as you pushed your ass back against him, the whole thing completely innocent, but you were unaware of the look of panic on his face, how he was afraid he was going to crack a tooth from gritting his jaw, willing his dick not to get hard.

He was now rendered to simply holding the urn in place, he was unable to concentrate, however you had taken over the placement of the new pieces, slotting them into their gaps, the blu-tack holding them secure. As you slid the final piece in you sat back, resting your back against his chest, smoothing your hands over his as you both took in the piece of pottery that dated back two millennia;

“It's stunning…” you muttered.

He softly brushed his thumbs over the sides of your hands, and you felt the warm puff of breath on your neck as he spoke;

“So are you…”

You let out a breathy sigh, your back arching and you could feel he was hard, the bulge against your ass pressing incessantly against you. Resting your head against his shoulder you turned your head and his lips caught your own. The world stopped and you saw stars as those soft pink pillows caressed your lips, moaning into his mouth and he took the chance to slip his tongue against yours.

Somehow the two of you managed to gently rest the delicate artefact back onto the tray in the midst of your fledgling passion, his hands intertwining with yours, fingers laced together as his tongue worked magic with your own.

When you broke the kiss you were gasping for air, his mouth finding your neck as he kissed along your exposed shoulder and neck, his sharp teeth dragging against your skin and making you moan;

“Oh… oh fuck… yes…”

He stopped for a moment, his hands still entwined with yours but he wrapped his arms around your body;

“Tell me to stop… tell me this is wrong, I’m your supervisor…”

“It’s the last night… let’s give ourselves this night… Just promise not to fall in love with me…”

“It may be too late for that already” he murmured against your skin, but you were lost in the haze of lust to comprehend his words.

Your hands finally parted, his slipping beneath your strappy t-shirt, yours reaching back to curl into his hair as his tongue danced patterns over your neck again. You were writhing on his lap, lost in the moment when suddenly the bench tipped, the two of you falling back and landing on the ground.

You moved first, rolling off before turning and straddling him, leaning over to catch his lips with your own as you ground your clothed core against the bulge in his tented shorts;

“I’ve wanted to feel you between my thighs for the last six weeks” you muttered against his earlobe, pressing kisses to his jawline as his hands found your ass and pulled you firmly down onto his body; “The amount of times I’ve gotten myself off in silence as I thought about sneaking into your tent…”

He could only let out a guttural moan, and as your hands found the edge of his t-shirt you parted so you could strip him of it.

You sat back, pressing yourself down harder against his growing erection as you admired his smooth and pale chest, the tiniest crop of hairs right in the centre, delicate muscle definition but still slim and athletic. You watched his face as you trailed your fingers down the length of his long body, finally brushing against the thin trail of hairs that led from his navel into his shorts. You shifted back a little, unfastening the button on his Khaki shorts and unzipping him, reaching into his underwear and grasping his hot length before pulling him free of the cotton confinements.

Bending you took him into your mouth, sliding your tongue over his hot flesh as you swallowed around him, bobbing your head up and down. His hands found your head, pressing gently to tell you the speed he liked, a string of curses falling from his lips as you rapidly drove him to the brink of pleasure. It didn’t take long until he let out an ‘uh-oh’ and you slid a hand up his stomach, his own grasping at it as he started to cum in your mouth. You swallowed all that he gave you, his back arching as he thrust up into the warm comfort between your lips, before his body went limp.

Pulling off him his hands gripped at your arms, pulling you up his chest until you were laying on top of him;

“You’ll need to give me a moment… then I’ll be right with you…”

You grinned and pressed a kiss to his bite swollen lips before standing, and he pushing himself up to rest on his elbows, a look of panic on his face before you grinned at him;

“Chill… just getting more comfy…”

You pulled your top off and dropped it to the ground, unfastening your combat shorts and let them fall too, kicking off your flipflops before you were standing there in just your knickers, your thumbs hooked over the sides before he finally spoke;

“I want to be the one to take those off…”

He quickly stood and pulled you over to the double air mattress he had in his tent, watching you lay back against his sleeping bag as he stripped himself of the rest of this clothing. As he climbed on he crawled up your body, and it was then that you saw the tiniest patch of brown in the sea of his blue eyes. You were mesmerized by it as he lay over you, your legs parting as he rutted against you, already growing hard again. He moved to your side and slid a hand down the length of your sternum, over your soft stomach and into your underwear, feeling how the thin cotton was soaked through with your arousal. Sitting up he pulled the ruined scrap of fabric down your legs, looking at your soaked petals as he parted them with his long fingers, finding your sensitive nub and rubbing delicate circles against it, before sliding his hand down and pushing two fingers into your soaked hole;

“Fuck… you feel so tight…”

“I need you… I need you inside me…”

“I don’t… I don’t have any protection…” he looked pained to admit what could be the stopping point of the night.

“I’m on the pill… been taking it continually so I didn’t get a period whilst on the dig…you can go bare…”

His eyes went wide, he’d had a number of lovers over his years at University, and he was well into his mid 20’s, but he had always used condoms, never wanting the girl to have to take the responsibility for their tryst… he had never gone bare but just at the mere thought of sliding into your heat, to feel your hot wetness against his skin, it made him as hard as a rock.

He scissored his fingers inside you before shifting, pulling them from you as he positioned himself between your thighs, the light from the lantern casting long shadows over your bodies. He rested his tip against your folds, taking a moment to lick your juices from his fingers, then with a smirk he started to press into you.

With each passing inch your eyes fluttered shut, not realising you were missing the look on his face as he found heaven between your legs. The feel of your pussy around him was almost suffocating, hugging him so tight as he slid in with ease from your arousal;

“Oh my god… you feel so fucking good… you’re gonna have to tell me how you like it, cos’ I don’t think I’m going to last long…” he muttered.

Wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, you pulled him down for a fierce kiss, all teeth and tongues whilst your body grew accustomed to his impressive length inside you, the biggest you had ever taken;

“Hard and fast, I was made to be broken… break me…”

At your words something changed in him, pushing his body onto his arms as he started to rut into you, watching your juices shine on his dick as he pulled out, only to slam back in as your body took every inch of him, your silken channel hugging him tight. The tent was filled with the wet slap of skin on skin, and knowing you were the only ones on site your voices rose, your moans filling the night sky.

Your body was bucking beneath him, shaking from pleasure and he could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer. He desperately wanted to feel you come around him, pushing a hand between your bodies he rubbed furiously at your clit, feeling your body tighten and your back arch, and as you came your body trembled around him.

The feeling was indescribable, he was so deep in pleasure that when his back arched and he came deep inside you he let out a roar, his eyes screwed shut as he filled you with his come, finally going limp, his arms shaking from the exertion of holding himself above you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him on top of you, burying your face in his neck as you breathed in his scent.

Finally finding his voice he whispered quietly;

“Stay with me tonight”

Wrapped in the sleeping bag and blankets you did just that, curled up in his arms and the warmth of his embrace.

Henry was woken by the sounds of the camp being broken down, the crews from the various universities packing up their things as the minibuses arrived to take them back to the halls of residences or shared houses. He was alone in his bed, and as he sat up he could hear your voice yelling out to your tent-mates to ‘pick up your fucking stuff’.

In the hours that followed various vehicles turned up on site, his own supervisors, benefactors and sponsors of the dig, all very excited by the finds and reports, and especially of the assembled Roman Urn. At every moment he tried to get away, tried to find a moment to talk to you, but as the minutes and hours ticked by the window was closing.

You were all packed up, everything in the old minibus. Every time you had looked across the site he was talking to someone important looking, never getting a moment where he was alone. The driver of your minibus honked the horn and you panicked;

“Hang on, I’ve just got one more thing to do…”

You ran across the site and he saw you, excusing himself from the people he was talking to and managed to intercept you behind the old Ford Transit van that was taking the equipment away. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your lips;

“I didn’t want you to leave before I got to say goodbye”

Your bottom lip trembled, your voice shaking;

“I’ve left my number on a piece of paper on your table, its tucked under the tray with the urn on”

He let out a sigh of relief, nodding before kissing you again, the sound of your minibus driver honking the horn impatiently.

You reluctantly pulled out of his arms, giving him a final wave before running to the bus, and he watched from the side of the van as you climbed in, the vehicle driving off into the distance as a cloud of dust trailed behind it.

“Henry!” an older male voice called out cheerfully.

Rubbing his palms over his face he took a deep breath, before turning and smiling at his supervising professor;

“Hey, good to see you Sir”

The older man clapped a hand over Henry’s shoulder;

“You’ve done an amazing job on this dig… the reports that came in have been exemplary. You had all the same students at the end of the dig as at the start which I’ll have you know is a particular skill… some site leads drive students away in droves!”

Leading Henry back towards the dig site he waxed lyrical about Henry’s skill and how he showed true leadership skills, turning to another gentleman that was leaning against Henry’s Land Rover;

“Have you met Piers?”

Henry shook his head, he knew who he was being introduced to, the CEO of the most prestigious museum in the UK and some would say the world with regards to Archaeology and Palaeontology. Shaking the man’s hand he was speechless;

“We’ve been following the dig reports, your talent is something I haven’t seen for many years… we’d like to discuss a position on our expedition board with you…”

“Y-yes… that would be fantastic! Thank you”

“Now, let’s see that Roman urn I’ve been hearing all about…”

Leading the men to his tent he lifted the tray, pulling it out into the sunshine as they took in the beauty of it, no-one noticing the small scrap of paper catch on the wind and slipping out of the tent, Henry too distracted by the reality of being hired for his dream job.

Many Years Later.

Henry grinned as his team crowed around him, the heat of the Siberian Summer seeping into their pores. In broken Russian the students were laughing and shouting, before three of them carried the massive femur bone they’d excavated a few days previously over to Henry, heaving it into his massive arms.

“Smile!” someone shouted out and he heard the clicks of phone camera shutters, before he gently rested it onto the soft ground, chatting to the team as he did so.

That night they hit the bars of the nearest town, Henry smiling when he saw one had wifi, connecting his phone and uploading a few updates to the dig account and also his own. An hour later he checked his phone and saw his Instagram notifications, one account name in particular catching his attention; @thepunkwiththepinkhair

It couldn't be, could it?

It was. It was you. The pink may be gone, but he had finally found you again.

*******************************************************************************

Thank you for reading!

Some explanations of British shops/brands;

Iceland = a budget supermarket chain

White Lightning = cheap, harsh apple cider, sold in bottles that are 3000ml/a gallon for around £5.00 (USD7/EURO6)

Panda Pop = very cheap fizzy drink, full of additives, artificial colours, sugar.

Ladbrokes - a chain of gambling shops.

Sun-in - spray in hair bleach that you would spritz on your hair and go out in the sunshine, and it would bleach your hair. Apparently it was meant to give you ‘sun kissed highlights’, but when i was 18 i turned my hair bright orange with it.

In the UK University starts when you are 18, and a degree lasts 3 or 4 years. You can then do a ‘post graduate course’ which is another year of studying, and if you want to work towards your doctorate, it can be another 4-7 years on top of that, which is why Henry in this story is literally fresh out of studying even though he is approximately 25 years old.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill smut

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armor-month-2021 · 2 years

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Hi! Unfortunately I don't have material that could be shared (I either have unshared Morgana OR Arthur material, but not with them together), but just wanted to give you my best wishes for the event. Whether romantically or siblings, their relationship is usually overlooked and deserves all the love of the fandom. Hope it'll have success and will become a yearly-event.

Hello! I'm so sorry for the late response, but thank you so much for wishing us well with the event! We too hope that it will become an annual tradition! And we couldn't agree more that their relationship deserves more love!

Actually, you brought up a good point about material that is about Morgana or Arthur exclusively, and honestly, we would love for you to contribute what you have. The last week of the event that runs Dec 26 - Jan 1 is a free week where we will accept any works, so this would be amazing opportunity for you to share what you've created if you're still interested. Just tag your work as #armormonth2021 so we see your work and can reblog it here.

Thank you again so much for taking the time to message us. ☺

#mod joelle

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drdln3-blog · 3 years

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Is there a Solution to Americas Weight Problem?

More than half of all American adults are overweight and it's hard to turn on the TV without encountering a commercial for another weight loss remedy. This growing epidemic of obesity has not spared even the young school children who are showing high blood pressure, and other psychological and social problems related to overweight.

Overweight is not only a personal problem but has become a national crises that drains our financial resources. Over 30 billion dollars are spent annually on weight reduction efforts in the United States, and the 30 billion dollar figure does not include the medical costs resulting from obesity-related diseases. For example, approximately 100,000 coronary by-passes are performed yearly at an average cost of over $70,000 each (i.e. $7 billion per year), and about 1,000 people in the U.S. alone die everyday of cancer.

Weight control can help with many of the health-related problems which can reduce insurance and medical bills; and help solve the national health care crises.

Many of us know that to maintain a desirable weight is good, not only in terms of good looks, but more importantly, in terms of good health. However, the relationship between proper weight and health is more complicated than you think. The scales and scientific methods for calculating overweight and over all fat amount are important, but more important in terms of health is where you carry the fat more than how much extra fat you carry. One of our aim is to tackle this problem, and to provide an effective technique to lose weight. Overweight or obesity is Probably one of the most important dietary problems talked about and written about today.

Weight problems are rare in populations where a lot of natural fruits, vegetables and whole grains are consumed. But excess weight is a common problem in developed countries like the United States, where the progress of scientific and technical development has led to the common use of processed and refined foods, as well as use of growth hormones for profitable animal farming. One of the obvious effects of this move is the high caloric intake resulting from the decreased volume of processed foods. In other words, over-consumption of calories to fill the stomach, which leads to an overweight. Traces of growth hormones from farm animals is also a contributing factor for the overweight problem.

Not only the diet but life style, whether sitting on a computer or watching TV or using a car, is equally responsible for overweight crises. The problem is a new one; never before has man had so wide a choice-or so regular a supply-of good food; or such easy access to vehicles that even natural exercise such as walking requires a special effort.

All kind of diets, exercise programs and other solutions have not worked even though it has become a billion dollar industry. If it did, we will not have all these grim statistics and over-weight people walking around.

I have known whatever is to know about weight, health, yoga, meditation from East as well as from West. Because I have an advanced degree in science in the west at Yale University in USA and had my earlier education in the East at Punjab University in India. I have written 12 guides combining Eastern and Western approach to health from happiness to longevity.

However, I could not reduce even 5 pounds with typical diet and exercise. Look below my daily eating habits and other life style that many of us including medical and scientific experts can call ideal. Here it is my typical day:

After getting up in the morning:

1 cup of tea with no sugar but little skim milk

Breakfast: ¼ cup Oatmeal cereal

Snack: Apple, Banana or other fruit

Lunch: About one cup Frozen Vegetables microwaved, plus egg-white from boiled egg.

Evening Snack: Mostly Tea only [rarely a bran muffin].

Super: Two whole wheat (or millet) chapattis equivalent to about 2 slices of bread. Vegetable cooked Indian style with spices and little oil.

Drink plenty of water, 2 cups skim milk, no soda, no alcoholic drink (except in a company or at a party).

Exercise: About 5-10 minutes of yoga stretches in the morning. 3-4 miles walk in the evening.

This schedule is quite healthy and have kept me disease free, pain free, and youthful in all aspects so far in my 70s now.

You will wonder what is left to tell that can reduce weight and stomach after following the above schedule. I was thinking the same till I tried something very simple and very effective. It can be done anywhere, anytime and requires no special equipment. And this is not even any diet or vigorous exercise or some nutrient, vitamin, hormone, and drug that I am promoting.

Finally remember "your body is a temple of the soul and the holy spirit, a gift from God." Consider every day what you can do to Care for the Temple. With child obesity rates at national health emergency levels, it is time to treat those fat, unhealthy, undisciplined, drug infested bodies like a temple.

For More Free info about: Clean Colon; Time to kapalbhatise; What's so different about this Kapalbhati Technique that Works!; How does It Work for Weight Loss!; Supplemental Exercises to Boost Energy; Science behind Success of this program.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B003T9UX9M/?tag=kindleboards-20

Author Dr. Dhillon: PhD West (Yale), fascination with yoga-spirituality East (Punjab University -- combined in 12 books. Dr. Sukhraj S. Dhillon is an eminent Scientist with numerous research publications in life sciences who studied at Yale University and served as a Professor at University in North Carolina. He has written more than a dozen books on topics of Health, Aging, Vegetarianism, Weight control, Stress-free living, Meditation, Yoga, Power of Now, Spirituality, Soul, God, Science, and Religion. His articles and books are a pointer to his line of thinking including current publication. He has been the President, Chairman of the board, and life-trustee of a non-profit religious organization and has expressed his views in the congregation and at international seminars.

http://dpcpress.com/pa.html

Reference: “A Simple Solution to Americas Weight Problem” available from popular booksellers throughout the world including Amazon Kindle and Barnes & Noble.

https://www.amazon.com/Dr.-Sukhraj-S.-Dhillon/e/B004584DL0

http://goo.gl/XE97WR

#diet weight health breathing natural lose weight obesity weight control

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kingscourtphotographer · 4 years

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Lucky 13

August 31, 2019

Thirteen is not usually considered a lucky number, unless you are an aviation buff, and you are attending the 13th annual Battle Lake Gathering of Airplanes (BLGA) at the Battle Lake Airport, in Battle Lake, Minnesota (Identifier 00MN) also known as the Tribute to Gerry Beck.

I’ve attended and photographed many fly-in’s and airshows, and this is both of those, but it takes place at a small grass airstrip in the lake’s country of western central Minnesota and has grown into a pretty spectacular event. The BLGA is held every Labor Day weekend on Saturday from 10AM until 2 PM to commemorate the renowned warbird rebuilder, Gerald “Gerry” Beck, known to most of his friends and even his wife Cindy, and daughter Whitney as “Beck”.

This was my second year attending and photographing this event and it was an amazing experience once again.

The 2019 Fly-in was the largest of the 13 yearly events so far, according to Patricia “Pat” Kostelecky the coordinator of the event. There were 82 aircraft and at least 500 people, attended including many who are heavily involved with war bird rebuilding and restoration, such as Casey Odegaard of Odegaard Aviation and the Fargo Air Museum, Warren Pietsch of the Dakota Territories Air Museum in Minot, ND, Ron Fagen of Fagen Fighters Museum in Granite Falls, MN, all must see locations if you like old war birds.

The initial Battle Lake Gathering of Airplanes, 14 years ago, had 10 people and 3 airplanes. The Fly-in was planned to gather support to try and save the Battle Lake Airport. The local community was contemplating closing it due the operating cost, not seeing the benefit of the small strip and hangers to the area. Gerry Beck and friends were trying to show how much revenue it generated for the town and surrounding areas and to raise funds to keep it open. The Becks had purchased a local lake home mainly due to the closeness and convenience of the Battle Lake Airport. Even though it was a small grass airstrip, with just a few hangers, it allowed he and many other pilots who spend their summers at lake homes and cottages in the area, to fly in for the weekend from Minneapolis and other parts of Minnesota, North and South Dakota and even farther away.

So, Gerry Beck, a renowned warbird restorer and founding member of the Fargo Air Museum, was a key supporter involved in the planning of this initial event. It just so happens that he was sick the day of the event, and couldn’t attend, then by the time the 2nd year of the event was planned, he had been killed in an accident in the 2007 EAA Air Venture in Oshkosh Wisconsin. From then on, the yearly event was also a memorial airshow to Gerry as well as the gathering of vintage and modern aircraft. It remains a gathering of friends and a fund raiser for the airport as well.

Gerry was well known for his vintage plane restoration business in Wahpeton, called Tri-State Aviation, which grew out of a crop-spraying operation. Gerry completed several of his own full restorations and participated on many others. These restorations of Warbirds included P51 Mustangs, an F4U Corsair, a TBM Avenger, a Hawker Sea Fury, and a Mitsubishi Zero. The rebuilding and restoring of planes led them on many “Family Vacations” looking for just the right parts for these historic planes.

Gerry Beck was born in 1949 in Guelph, North Dakota. From the Tri-State Aviation’s Gerry Beck Memorial Page: Beck discovered a love for aviation after becoming involved in skydiving during his college years at the University of North Dakota. He graduated from UND with an Industrial Arts Degree, and while teaching high school in Grand Forks, North Dakota, he continued his path in aviation by obtaining a private pilot’s license and rebuilding his first airplane.

In 1974, he founded Tri-State Aviation, Inc. (TSA), an aerial spraying and aircraft maintenance firm located in Wahpeton, North Dakota. During his agricultural aviation career, Beck developed, or contributed to the development of, numerous items that enhanced pilot and aircraft safety and efficiency within the agricultural aviation industry.

Before becoming interested in, and specializing in warplane building, Beck developed several crop-spraying innovations that are widely used today. These innovations include a special spraying boom incorporating an airfoil shape instead of round tubes.

Beck’s funeral at the Fargo Air Museum had hundreds in attendance, and the large turnout for the funeral was a testament to Beck's abilities as a warplane restorer and advocate, and the closeness of the community of enthusiasts.

The first thing to strike you about the Battle Lake Gathering of Airplanes, and to make it such an amazing event, is the camaraderie of those in attendance. The next is the wide variety of aircraft and being able to walk among them up close and personal.

It’s rare to see one Beechcraft Stagger wing at a small-town fly in, but there were 2 of them this year’s BLGA. One, the yellow N985SW, is owned by Warren Peitsch, mentioned earlier, who was a very good friend of Beck. According to Whitney Beck, it was a surprise arrival since the plane was Warren’s latest project. Several people said he had finished just a week before the event and was making its maiden long flight after restoration. The plane was in like new condition and a highlight of the show.

Some other notable airplanes, among the many rare and vintage aircraft and the number of war birds in attendance, were; several T-6 Texans or Harvard’s as they are known abroad, the ‘310C’ Vought F4 U Corsair owned by Cindy and Whitney Beck, rebuilt by Gerry Beck and flown by John Sinclair, the TBM Avenger T83, flown by Brad Deckert, the P51 Mustang, Boomer, flown by Tim McPherson, several Boeing PT17 Stearman Trainer aircraft and a Marine Corps T34 Mentor. Also notable among the rare aircraft were 2 Belanca’s, a 1972 and a 1973 model 17-30 and 31, a 1950 Piper PA18, several models and years of Van’s RV aircraft including Gerry Beck’s own RV4 that Whitney and Cindy Beck both confirmed as Beck’s favorite airplane to fly. Whitney even said, “That when asked, her father would pick the RV over all the warbirds and other aircraft he had flown as his favorite to fly due to its nimble handling and ability to get to the small airport at Battle Lake in 15 minutes from Wahpeton’s Harry Stern Airport, the home base of Tri-State Aviation.” She said that he loved being able to pull it out of the hanger by hand even with his bad knees.

Other interesting aircraft were a 1959 Downer Belanca, a 1980 Rupp Roger Starduster biplane, a 1961 DeHavilland Beaver complete with floats, and a 1946 Fairchild 24W46 Argus.

With 82 planes at the event there were too many to name, but there were also many Cessna and Piper Variants as well as a Carbon Cub and Aviat Husky to name a few.

The Legacy of Gerry Beck – From the Tri-State Aviation Gerry Beck Memorial Page.

Beck openly shared his knowledge and his passion for aviation. He encouraged and assisted others, willingly spent time with people of all ages who exhibited an interest in his endeavors, participated in airshows and aviation events, and was instrumental in the formation of the Fargo Air Museum. Gerry’s vision was to build a second wing on the museum, to house restoration projects complete with rivet stations, audio WWII vignettes, welding and aviation basics.

Beyond aviation, his philanthropy was evident in every aspect of his life as he gave tirelessly of his time, talents and dreams. He was a visionary, a thinker with an undaunted, steadfast, positive outlook. Beck’s legacy will be the indelible mark he left on the many lives he touched worldwide.

Many antique aircraft perform at today’s airshows and races worldwide were directly touched by Gerry Beck or Tri-State Aviation. ‘The Restorers’, is an hour-long documentary film about warbird and vintage aircraft restorers and the planes they resurrect from the graves of history… In the snows of North Dakota, we find two of the best warbird builders in the world in Gerry Beck and Bob Odegaard, builders of Mustangs and a rare Super Corsair respectively. ‘The Restorers’, is available to view at https://www.hemlockfilms.com/the-restorers-season-1,

If interested in finding out more about Gerry, there is also a great article with photos of the builds in Warbird News by Matthew Mc Daniel, written in 2016, about his projects including his P51’s, F4U Corsair, Zero, and Hell Diver Rebuilds. http://warbirdsnews.com/tag/gerry-beck

Gerry was also involved in the making of the movie “Thunder over Reno” which featured Bob Odegaard’s Super Corsair.

I knew Gerry in passing due to being a volunteer at the Fargo Air Museum for a time, and having a passion for vintage aircraft and warbirds. I am also an avid aircraft photographer, and this event is unique in that you can see, and be among, all these wonderfully restored aircraft from a very close distance. All the planes are marshalled on the ground, but you often have to be aware of taxiing airplanes when moving around the parked aircraft to look at them.

To say this is a close-knit community of aviators is an understatement. It’s more like a family gathering where the public is invited to partake these beautiful flying machines. Many of the participants have been attending since the first annual event.

So, if you decide to go to the 14th annual event on Labor Day weekend 2020, check Facebook for the event “Battle Lake Gathering of Airplanes” on the Midwest Airshow, Fly-in and Flight Club group, https://www.facebook.com/groups/MNFlightClub/. Make sure to bring $5 for the Raffle fund raiser for the airport and a few dollars for lunch, fly-in or drive in, but make sure to get their early to get a spot and ensure they don’t run out of food (2019). There might be 1000 people there next year and over 100 aircraft on a small grass strip in western central Minnesota. Enjoy the view on landing as you will be coming into this airport over the lake and watch the wind, it can shift on you. Hope to see you there.

The information for this article was gathered from interviewing Cindy and Whitney Beck, Pat Kostelecky, Kreg Anderson and Todd Weber a former employee of Odegaard Aviation as well as several articles in local newspapers, one written by Robin Huebner and published in the Grand Forks Herald. Also, with information by Gary Renier, and from attending the event, as well as the Tri-State Aviation website.

Thanks to Gary Renier, a friend of Beck’s and a Battle Lake area summer resident who led an aviation photography event at my first show in 2018 for the Fargo Camera Club. Gary, a former Optometrist in Fargo, ND, is also heavily involved with Aircraft photography being a volunteer at the Commemorative Airforce Museum in Arizona, and former Fargo Camera Club President.

It is my very distinct pleasure to write this article and get to know these wonderful people a little better.

Gordon Court

Owner,

Kings Court Creative Photography.

#Kingscourtcreativephoto aviationphotography isap_aviationphoto isap_aviationphotography gerrybeckmemorialflyin kaydet boeing b75n Stearman i

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petersmparker · 5 years

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Sorry!!! Prompt list dialogue with 8 and 13?? Honestly it’s the latest one reblogged if that helps at all

No problem at all!! I’m glad you saw my first reply !! 💞I hope I got the right ones , eek

This one is a lil long because I had to fulfill my urge to write Some Nonsense Happening. I’m having too much gd fun with these but I have to admit that this one is slightly less romance and a bit more eccentric slice-of-life

prompts #8/13 - “Ugh, you’re sweaty. Get off.” “I might have had a few shots.”

Winter break is your favorite time of year. Not just because of the break from your overly-demanding college schedule, either. When finals end for the fall semester, Midtown Tech’s 2024 graduating class flocks back to their New York City home. It’s not long before phones start buzzing with the invitations to meet up again, and while many people had drifted out of it all together, the academic decathlon team had remained blissfully committed to these yearly rekindlings.

You and Peter had been one of the few to stay close to home for higher education. With his commitment to superheroing and your adoration for Empire State University’s interning programs, it seemed like the most obvious choice. This, and the fact that you both had been nursing gigantic crushes on each other. Nearly three years into your relationship, you eagerly await the return of your friends each winter together. It’s kind of like high school still, but with bills and no curfew.

Making ends meet is a bit difficult, but despite that, it’s kind of great. Kind of awesome, just going about life with Peter Parker.

Last year, Ned had been the first to jump on gathering the troops. This year, Flash sends out a mass text containing a video of a santa hat spinning circles on his turntable, Dec 20th, bitches. 7pm. Time to get your fuckin’ christmas on, emblazoned across it in red. It’s only a few hours before everyone excitedly confirms their plans to attend.

Everyone is exactly the same as they always were, but maybe that’s just because you all become stupid high schoolers again when you get together. It’s Flash’s house, but Ned answers the door when you ring the bell. Peter is instantly wrapped up in a bear hug by his best friend. It’s been a few months, and they’ve been whining about missing each other for at least half of it.

“Never leave me again,” Ned orders as he releases Peter.

“Funnily enough, I’m just putting a downpayment on a place in Boston,” Peter jokes back.

MJ is quickly found on the floor of the sitting room, gently shaking the presents that had been placed beneath the tree. She isn’t that big on gifts, but likes to challenge herself to guess what they are. You and Peter place your secret santa contributions in the pile and ask to hear her theories.

“I’m almost positive that your secret santa bought you an action figure,” MJ tells you, shaking a longer box that has your name on the tag.

“That can’t be right,” you laugh.

“You’ll see.”

Flash appears from the kitchen, eventually, Betty close behind, on their way to the main living room. They’re both toting huge trays of sugar cookies. The ones on Betty’s tray look significantly nicer than the ones on Flash’s, which is pretty typical.

“Mine taste better than hers,” Flash insists as he bumps fists with Peter and gives you a one-armed hug. The rest of the crowd in the living room erupt into the teasing of his “ugly ass reindeer” when he presents them, but scarf them down anyway.

It’s the same every year, and nothing could make you any happier.

Gifts are exchanged around the devouring of sweets and an over-the-top catered dinner for a relatively small group. Friends don hideous new sweaters and open up weird new board games. To your surprise, you do receive an action figure. It’s one you’ve seen before in shop windows: a display-quality Spider-Man figure in the Iron Spider suit, complete with four metal arms protruding from the back and a stand to hold it up.

“Oh my god,” Peter says, spotting it in your hands.

Flash is snickering from his spot near the fire. You wave the box in his direction. “You know that Spider-Man’s identity is secret and therefore he can’t receive any profit from the merch that companies are making these days, right?”

“Yep,” he confirms, “I’ll make it up to him eventually, probably.”

All things considered, it’s a pretty funny gift. And you have to admit that it is a nice figure.

There’s already a couple bottles of champagne being passed around, but Peter receives several rolls of expensive camera film and a fancy bottle of liquor, and, feeling happy and generous, cracks the bottle open and shares.

It’s not long before most of the group is tipsy, having arranged rides home or decided to stay the night in Flash’s home. The rowdiness picks up. Games are taken less seriously and somehow become more fun, Flash’s stupid techo-christmas playlist suddenly becomes excellent dancing music, and some of the guys end up hollering as they chase each other around the house. You’re content to watch the festivities pick up, having decided to be the designated driver. It’s hard not to enjoy it all.

Peter sprints across the living room, in hot pursuit of Flash. He attempts to hop over Betty’s head while she’s sitting on the floor in front of the couch and ends up clearing the couch, too. Flash screeches and nearly collides solar-plexus first with the countertop island as he dives into the kitchen, gasping out accusations of Peter being a filthy cheater.

“What the fuck!” Shouts Abraham, who had been running behind him.

Your boyfriend has been chasing the host through the house and yard for the better half of thirty minutes by now. He’s such a stupid drunk. You’re completely in love with him.

When they calm down, he immediately drifts back to you. He drapes his arms over you from behind the back of the armchair, pressing smooches onto your temple.

“Ugh, you’re sweaty. Get off,” you chuckle, swatting lightly at his head.

He doesn’t get off, deciding instead to melt further into you. “You’re sweaty,” he says, quite cleverly, and turns his head to try to kiss you for real.

“No I’m not. You’re drunk, too,” you add, accepting his attempt to kiss you on the lips.

Peter is 160 pounds of pure muscle, but he comes around the side of the chair to climb into your lap. His arms wrap themselves around you again. He’s a little too heavy to be in your lap, but at the moment you’re too filled with adoration to care.

“I might have had a few shots,” he concedes, “That expensive stuff tastes like cherries. I love cherries. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you assure, patting his leg.

“Marry me.”

Your heart thrills. Peter is gazing at you like you’ve hung the stars in his sky. There’s a sincerity in his tone that you’ve only heard a few times before. When he first confessed that he loved you, for one. There’s only one real answer to this question, but considering the circumstances, that isn’t the answer you give just yet.

You lift your head to kiss him once more.

“I’ll say yes next time you ask.”

permanent tag list

@undiadeestos @moonstruckholland

#blurb request #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fluff #peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #peter parker reader insert #peter parker self insert

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faithtrustandmanifest-blog · 4 years

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My Story:

How did I end up here? I wouldn't blame you for asking. There are compounding parts of my life that contribute to me getting here, but as a child I was victim of sexual assault and I was raised in an abusive environment. I was not offered the same resources, from my family, that other members of my family were granted access to. I do not have a mother, in my life, and the "model-figure" I was gifted with is a narcissist who abused me throughout the entirety of my childhood. I sought out the love and compassion I was lacking from my family, in romantic relationships, and at 17 (upon graduating high-school) I moved out immediately; only to find myself in another abusive environment. I repeated cycles and patterns of abuse in the partners I sought out, and I forced myself into more corners of difficulty. I would allow men to abuse me and use me for my money, because to me that was better than the heartbreak I felt not receiving love, at home. In my mind, it was at-least a "different evil" and I had more freedom, in a sense. I became a workaholic, for 3 years, and balance two serving jobs to provide for myself and whoever I was living with; just so I wouldn't have to return home.

Not unlike most victims of sexual assault, often times the downside of unprocessed trauma is finding yourself in repeated scenarios, once you get older. All of these compounding traumas I chose to bury deep below the surface with 60+ hour work weeks, and avoidance. During this time, I could've saved that money, built up a good credit score, and applied for my own lease; but I didn't do this (17-20 years old). I was still seeking that emotional validation from someone else and the co-dependent behavior I developed made me believe it was better to stay. I was taught to believe I couldn't do things on my own and be successful. I carried those wounds with me and I still regret that, knowing that it would have saved me from this. By my third year of working two jobs, my buried issues were catching up to me, I lost my place to live (with my abusive ex), and all of those unprocessed feelings were bubbling to the surface. This was the summer of 2016. In 2016, I hit my rock-bottom, because as any wise person will tell you, you can never avoid your problems forever. They will catch up to you, always. For a very brief few months, I was forced to move in with a member of my family. During this time, I was in a deeply suicidal state of mind, as I quit my jobs and I had nothing left to distract me from the traumas I was running from anymore. There were days I would not leave my room, which struck anger in my family member, and eventually I attempted to open up to them about my pain. Instead of getting the emotional comfort, I was encouraged to commit suicide, and that if I "really wanted that, I should just do it already."

A month later, I met my (now) ex-fiance. He walked into my life optimistic, a safe-haven, and someone who picked up my broken pieces with a gentle touch. He never raised his voice at me, he listened to my past pains, and he was the first man to ever validate my experiences; without gaining anything from it. He rescued me from my family, we moved in together quickly, and he offered me a period of time to comfortable seek therapy, without having to work. Neither of us had any idea how emotionally trialing unpacking 21 years of buried trauma would be. In the beginning, we were absolute optimists. This is when I adopted my dog, as a companion to not only myself, but the dog he already had. The environment was stable, financially secure, and emotionally supportive. However, when you begin the process of confronting trauma it's never guaranteed to go smoothly and my transition was very, very rough.

I suffered through a long period of agoraphobia, intense symptoms of anxiety, and depression; all side effects of PTSD. Once I had admitted to myself the things I experienced, in truth, and understood how many things had occurred, I became fearful of everything. I went from a fully functioning 60+ hour work week, two job, kick-ass person; to being unable to leave my bedroom. I was completely and utterly dependent upon my ex-fiance for everything. This is the point in which we skipped out on the lease (I listed this above) as he was not as financially secure, and we agreed the best option was to move in with members of his family, out of state. In October of 2018, I experienced a loss. A loss I still haven't had a moment to sit down and unpack entirely, but I did not allow that loss to keep me from pushing to get better. Between October 2018-February 2019 I made EXTREME improvements to my mentality. In the honor of what I had lost, I vowed that I would never allow myself to be consumed by fear again, and that I would live my life for what was lost. No matter how hard that might be, I would face it, head on. I stood by my word. In February of 2019, we moved back, and I started working part-time. In addition to working part-time, we decided to buy a used car, and I was responsible and consistent on the payments. We bought from a private seller, so we were given a month's time-limit to replace the tags, title, and have the inspection completed. Within that month time-limit, my ex-fiance decided he wanted out of our relationship suddenly and began pursuing another woman before completely ending our situation. We had just moved back, just began our 12 month lease, and just bought this new car. There was no soft transition in how he handled the break-up, it was very cold, to the point within a matter of days he ceased contact with me completely. In that month, I did not let myself fold. I immediately spoke with my supervisor and worked out a schedule where I could be moved to full-time hours, I was fortunate to have people help me replace the windshield of my car, and help me pay for tags/title, and I kept it moving. When I arrived at the tag/title place, I realized my ex-fiance had put the car title in his name, in an attempt to “keep leverage” at the time. To this day, he still holds the car title, in his name, which we are working to change; and my job relies on the ability to transport in emergencies. So, from March 2019 to the present day, I have loyally paid my monthly payments and car insurance, to him, on time. From March 2019 to February 1st, 2020, I also finished out my yearly lease, all by myself, and I want everyone who reads this to know I AM capable of providing for myself. Unfortunately, when my lease was up where I was living, I was forced to provide a credit check (which was not required originally), and not only did my credit score not meet the requirements, but the skip-out also reflected on my report. I was not approved to renew my lease.

This is how I've found myself where I am now. I've been forced to move back in with family. This is the same family member, who back in 2016, encouraged me to commit suicide. I was aware walking back into this, that this would be a difficult time period on me mentally and emotionally, but I told myself that this pain wouldn’t last forever and that I would use this time to work as much as I could. A part of me also wanted to remain optimistic in the mind-set that maybe over the past 4 years, things had changed, and there was more empathy for my situation. Over the course of the past week, there have been multiple moments where I’ve been threatened to be kicked out “at any moment”, which puts me in the difficult space of feeling panicked and rushed to find an answer sooner than I could produce results.

I hope this information gave you some clarity and insight into who I am, and I cannot stress enough how difficult it is for me to pour myself out publicly like this. I have carried these burdens alone and silently, for a very long time, that I’m even partially convinced that by asking for help I could end up causing more harm, than good. I hope this message reaches people who receive it with kindness and understanding. Thank you.

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sole-cuore-amore-e-droga · 5 years

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Tel Aviv 2019: Straight outta Estonia to Eurovision with a lowkey tribute to Avicii soundwise I guess

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I’m not one of those people to go all their way out to overdefend Eesti Laul as “THE most diverse NF to ever exist songwise”, but even I was disappointed in this sudden rush of radiofriendly pop music that I would rather refuse to describe if I had to endure any of them ever again all at once this year. Remember - Netta won with being CRAZY! Why can’t Estonia be CRAZY even more! Was this secretly a bigger demand from the new producers or so that Estonia would need to out-radiofriendly the Latvians whose goal actually was to find a good radiofriendly song that’s enough for qualification????

Also, I kind of wanted to watch Eesti Laul, but I haven’t really settled with it, as I didn’t have enough patience to watch it one time it wasn’t on Saturday (!!). Even with Eesti Laul usually taking the live tweets from foreign fans into account and displaying some of them on the national Estonian television for good measure. And often showcasing their weirdness through crude animations every so often. But I already saw my Twitter timeline being full of that stuff, and for that I’m happy.

I did have some favourites despite being tired of all this pop stuff, and one of them was the ever-so-gender-ambiguous INGER (I say so cuz I thought it was a guy, turns out it’s a she, yeah), and I kind of wanted to see her win after the lowkey last minute interest towards her? But the televote didn’t seem to want any of it during the final public say, and didn’t even want Kerli (not the Spirit Animal Kerli) through despite of her being “hot” (are we now choosing ESC NF winners based on their looks??? tighten up ffs). Instead the final’s televote thought it’d be a good idea to fuck up the international jury’s expectations by putting through an act that got 2(!!!!!) finalised points from them jurors overall and making it win the superfinal. That televote 12 the act got beforehand was just enough for the guy to last-minute qualify over another act of 14 overall points, and who knows, maybe if it wasn’t for that 12, the winner would’ve been someone else. But it didn’t and we have a last minute qualifier victory because televote superfinal is a thing.

And in the literal sense of the way Estonian minds thought their victor that was unfairly treated by the juries was a Swedish singer Victor Crone and his song “Storm”, which was written by the one and only Stig Rastafarian~ err I mean Rästa. Stig is one mythical human creature that never rests a minute without really wanting to appear in the Estonian delegation somewhere every year - whether as all by himself, with someone else, as a songwriter for someone else, or even as part of a band (remember Traffic, anyone? Now that I think of it, the whole band looks like a puppet-act just for Stig to get to Eurovision and the other band members didn’t even want any of it in the first place). Just exactly what is Stig’s aim here? To "take it back to Tallinn”? To meet new people in Europe because he’s too lazy to travel otherwise? To boast about the many Estonian entries he contributed to? Beats me.

That and Victor Crone being Swedish, therefore a man more suited to Melodifestivalen (where he actually once participated in) and only on Eesti Laul because Stig really wanted to save his voice for this one and tag some randomer along with him just for the sake of yearly input to Eesti Laul. Well, at least Victor is historically joining Sahlene and Sandra Oxenryd as “a Swede represending Estonia for a year because what do we know for the Estonians that weren’t chosen instead”. Let’s check his song out.

First and foremost, as the title obviously states, the song reminds me of the late Avicii’s music style, especially around 2012-2013, when he was just starting to get bigger post-”Levels”-release. Just with a bit more singing surrounding the song because... well, maybe to fill up the song some more in order to not look awkward on stage during an instrumental part of the drop being as long as would be one you hear on the radio.

Then he has this easy-listening generic male radio voice that the audiences can not necessarily reasonate with, but it’s memorable, together with the chorus, whose purpose is to be memorable - you don’t need no message that’s special, you just need a melody to hum in your head for the next few weeks, and that’s basically what Stig was able to achieve with this little ditty. Then there’s the amazingly easy song structure: verse - chorus - verse - (extended) chorus - bridge - chorus (+ song ending). That’s a structure that works on basic songs to make them more user-consumption-friendly and not too overbearingly dragged out. And I enjoy it, just like I did “Light Me Up” last year, which was also sung by a mediocre-live-vocalist-Swede that could have easily ended up 6th in Melodifestivalen edition with such song, sadly. I do acknowledge that it’s basic, but I enjoy it.

The problem the Eurofandom finds with this song is that it’s too basic of a song from Eesti, Victor’s proven himself to be a dull live singer, and the chorus rhymes “like this” with “like this”, and all the self-rhymes are automatically shite. And it’s fine if a song I like has its flaws, but it automatically worries me that its live potential is automatically down the drain because of the singer’s lack of vocal compassion or strenght. That begs the question, why choosing THAT kind of song if it’s totally going to underperform live in Eurovision if the singer wasn’t sick in the NF at the time???

...oh I get it now, you Estonians must have thought Stig deserves another year in the Estonian greenroom. Or you found Victor hot. Or you find it great that a song about a storm actually was originally staged to look like Victor’s in a storm. At least for the televiewers’ eye. Because all that they see in the real arenas is the singers’ backs if they don’t turn around in time.

With visuals like these, why even need a music video! (except that there already is one, look at the beginning of the review)

All in all, all condiments are there: just the sugar, spice and everything nice there’s needed for a song like this to break a fandom like this. You can practically smell the Hesburger grease from this song. I don’t care if that’s a bad thing - if you like the song, that’s fine, just shut up and enjoy... but if you dislike it, welp, there’s no way I can change your mind then.

And a random backing singer. Not that she’s helpful as the one for Ott Lepland or anything, she just strikes like thunder and leaves no lasting impact whatsoever.

Greta Salóme’s imaginary cousin, is that you????

Now excuse me while I contradict and repeat myself some more in the next few paragraphs:

Approval factor: As you might have seen me shading Elina a lot last year, I can safely say that at last I’m spared from her vocal practice entrapped in a porcelain-and-silk dressing!!! I like “Storm” myself so I’ll sheepishly approve the hell out of it, lolol. :-)

Follow-up factor: I would be lying if I didn’t say that after a risky-ish way to get all out opera and then coming back to a safe song after doing well with that opera number weren’t a complete nosedive into an empty pool. Subjectively it flows way better for me, but objectively, and the same could be, once again, said for Eesti Lawl [sic] 2019, it is rather interesting of a letdown? But hey, maybe it was finally time for the Estonians to chillax a bit and cave in to send an Estonian-Swedish pop number after the opera stuff, after the 80s synthpop stuff, after the smooth and slightly orchestrated and a little bluesy number, and heart-grabbing ballads... just so they could keep up their ‘variety’ in case Hungary runs out of ideas and starts sending cop-outs of themselves. They already did it with rehashing one artist and one lyrical idea already this year (the catch is that the father’s alive!), honestly. And oddly enough, they have yet to send something a little more modern/electro-influenced that appeals to the common crowd... (”Running” may not count because not everyone can relate, whereas there are more cases of broken-off love (as if in the other half being a heartbreaker or the first half missing the other half so much that they feel “incomplete” than abusive fathers. Just what I think there is? If I’m wrong I obviously expect to be @’ed in the replies section lol) For this conclusion though I’ll say that my opinion says it’s a ‘’’decent’’’ follow up, but for Eurofans, it’s not very much so of such, idk.

Qualification factor: you may think it’s dead while going to perform in between the more badass entries AND mediocre live vocals, but it won’t at least be the worst Stig entry to ever place - around 14th in the semi at the very worst and maybe in the lower half of top 10 at very best imo. Nothing more, nothing less.

NATIONAL FINAL BONUS

I actually barely even bother with Eesti Laul since they don’t accept my Twitter comments live on their television anyways. Say, were there any Twitter comments live on their television this year? No one on Twitter boasted about it if they saw theirs from what I’ve seen, but what I’ve definitely found from the eager Eesti Laul watchers were some casual and usual Estonian oddities thrown on the broadcast, such as:

• The soft and warm but also random and deranged yearly transitional postcard animations (that were refered to as “crude” earlier in this review), which I commonly know now as “my last two braincells”. Even if the graphical theme itself of this year’s Ee-Lawl were oddly-shaped birds coming out in forms of letters, they didn’t really show up much in the broadcast I suppose, and the best fuckery with my mind this year definitely happened when I saw some of THOSE pop up on my Twitter timeline:

We now return to your regularly scheduled news programm~ wait why are you saying that the scheduled programme should be Eesti Laul

• Even if the most acts themselves weren’t that kooky musically, they were obviously interesting performance-wise. We were greeted with an impulsively quirky crazy cat lady Kaia Tamm who bemoaned the absence of the fluffy creatures in German somehow (you know Germany’s a terrible track-record keeper when the only song in German this year featured on Estonia and the only German in Eurovision this year was gonna be sung by an Ukrainian entrant if she was alowed to), as if a song in full Italian from last year wasn’t enough. Not only did she dress up as Alice in Wonderland with kitty ears, but her costumed dancers were entertaining, the violinist was FIRE and a cute large teddy bear looked cute on stage. Not to mention, someone have rightfully noticed that some costumed felines in the audience looked like as if they were to kill someone:

• Lumevärv too is an interesting thing. Never forgetting Lumevärv. This Inga woman, the fiery orangehead she was, used her 3 minutes on stage the best possible way with dancing with her back turned on at the audience and only looking at the camera, while millions of lights (which is sadly not what the songtitle "Milline päev" means) shone in the audience, creating an amazing mood.

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• Hey everyone, the 10 years challenge is back! This time it’s with the violin virtuousess(???) Sandra Nurmsalu, the lead of Urban Symphony, who deserved much more than a 3rd place. Unfortunately the Estonians did not bring her back to get her desired revenge, which meant that they thought that they woodn’t need no magic tale fairy that’d grant them tree wishes and let her magic wand our out the wondrous [sic] sawdust. I’m already seeing myself out for how terrible this sounded. And it’s a bit saddening about this not doing as well as some hoped, considering she would have brough out the new and the better Jacques Houdek teas:

• Other favourite act of mine from this year, besides the aforementioned “ever-so-gender-ambiguous-looking INGER” with her indie-folk jingle “Coming Home”, was the charming disco-haired Sissi Nylia Benita with a wholesomely radio bop “Strong”, and they both actually looked like they stood a chance in the superfinal vote-up now that the actual Eesti Laul fan favourites, pretty cute pop boys like piano-indie-pop-driven Stefan and electro-pop-and-Kirkorov-driven Uku Suviste, were not receiving enough support by the juries I guess??? I’ll show a video to INGER if anything and link you all to the rest so you could judge these young and beautiful souls to yourselves in a way!

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• Other note-worthy acts include another song about the notorious instrument horsefly in Ee-Lawl’s history that stood even less chance than “Parmupillihullus” but is still fun regardless, and the united forces of Tanja (EE 2014) and Birgit (EE 2013) trying to compose a bigband talk show anthem and dedicating the lyrics for them being ladies with their high heels out on. And honestly, that’s all I’m gonna talk of acts-wise because most other songs were THAT of a radiofriendly-radio-filler that they don’t warrant anything else exciting for me to say.

• No but for real, the voting to the superfinal was completely off-rails. Instead of Victor, juries were there to support that Kerli woman that wasn’t from 2017 (and her soft acoustic song too), as well as Sissi and INGER (but you already know that because I barely read my write-ups before I finish them, hence lots of redundancy). At least that’s all to my knowledge. But everything definitely changed when the televote attacked! And turned the top 3 all male, lol. This voting was rather random simply because the juries didn’t really love Victor, but it definitely took the televote to convince them that “lol Victor is definitely worth of Eurovision!!! screw that he’s non-Estonian!!!” (the difference is that Victor doesn’t have a big social media following unlike Bilal and didn’t win an obnoxiously people-powered talent show unlike USNK from A Dal 2018 - it’s just that he’s more backed by Stig Rästa, and Stig is love, Stig is life.) Honestly, I am all up for unpredictable voting, but if it looks unpleasant to me, then I feel like tuning out.

We’re over with this write-up, thank-fuck-fully, so that you won’t need to hear me lamenting how supposedly cheap “Storm” is ever again. But before that I will have to leave you with some Eurovision 2019 facts coming on: Estonian delegation can be lucky for once - instead of having had to panic for spending an egregious amount of money for a staging detail, this year they don’t have to worry, as the organizers were so shook by Victor’s stormy sky effect, they offered to pay for it themselves!!! Crazy, huh??? (reported for favouritism)

And now I’m done. And we’re moving on to another review and I end up wishing Victor Crone the every best of luck out there. Storm out with a good time well spent! (Whatever that might mean.)

#eurovision 2019 #tel aviv 2019 reviews #estonia 2019 #victor crone #storm #estonia

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rybergryberg3-blog · 5 years

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