Marina Was The Original Female Rage Musician Of The 21st Century Lbr

I'm just uterus with fertile eggs

I’M SALIVATING STOP ITTT

“you forgive her too easily”

she’s my mum, i reply, who else will if i won’t?

.

You guys don't understand.

I would do ANYTHINGGG for this man

How does this white boy have a hold over me

Callum, this. Are you hearing me sir? MORE OF THIS.

-

sad girl, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x amelia mae

content: in the beginning stages of their relationship, amelia finds herself questioning john and the nature of their relationship.

song reference: sad girl by lana del rey

an: idk this song does something to me. should I make a tag list?

John Egan was an enigma. A puzzle that was impossible to solve. A language she couldn’t translate. A concept she couldn’t grasp. It angered her. It sent her into emotional overload and overwhelmed her mind. She couldn’t make sense of him and it pained her. 

She found herself in her head, swimming through the sea of intrusive thoughts that invaded her mind. He wasn’t serious about her. He wasn’t capable of loving her. That was evident by the way his eyes followed the silhouette of a pretty blonde at the pub while she washed dishes and served drinks to the armymen. He didn’t know she noticed. Why would he? To him, she was nothing but a girl he’d gone on a few dates with. They weren’t committed; he owed her no loyalty. 

Her attempts at keeping her facial expressions at bay were a failure. When she rose her head, she caught the sympathetic eyes of the emphatic Gale Cleven. The smile on her face quivered as she turned her back and continued with her task. 

And his hesitancy, oh God, his hesitancy to decline a dance from a woman broke her even further. Sure, she should have been glad that he declined the brunette’s advances regardless, but the fact that he took the time to think. To ponder. To debate, made her sick to her stomach. 

She wept like a child that night. She accepted his peck on the cheek at the end of the evening, “You alright, doll?” His voice sent a chill down her spine. It stayed with her until she went home, then wept like a child. 

She was asked about him by her best friend. If only she could describe all that he was, and all that he wasn’t. He was a complex case that needed to be studied. Dissected and picked apart like an experiment. She nodded once and said, “He is a beautiful human, truly. Bold and wild like a fire. He walks in it with pride and warms everyone he comes in contact with.”

Her friend sensed the sadness laced in her words. With a small voice, she asked in return, “It sounds like you aren’t too happy about that. What’s that about?”

With a sad smile pulled at her lips. Amelia shrugged and dropped her hands into her lap defeatedly. Quietly she admitted, "I don't know if he can love me the way I love him. I think...my worst fear is that he'll light me on fire and leave me to burn in the flames...."

---

likes are nice, but please share feedback, friends!

torture, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan + black!fem!oc (amelia egan)s

content: John is interrogated in Germany.

an: y'all...part 6 of mota....tore me up. spoilers ahead. let's talk about this part! comment, reblog, and send asks!

gif: @olympain

“Married?” 

Silence. The air was tense. How could it not be? An American soldier had been captured in the swamps of German territory, beaten like a mule, and whipped like a Roman traitor. Just outside of his line of vision, he saw the bodies of soldiers and civilians drug across the gravel lot. An American soldier had been captured in the swamps of German territory and questioned like a federal criminal by a German pilot who grinned like a cashmere cat; evil and conniving. Silence. 

The German interrogator, Hausmann, chuckled dryly and hovered his pen over the sheet of paper under his arm.“From what I hear, I assume you are unmar—“

“I have a wife,” he answered gruffly after some time. A lovely wife, at that. Full of love and affection, mercy and kindness. He missed her dearly. He kept a photo of her in his breast pocket but was too fearful of the damage to look at it. 

His throat felt thick like maple syrup running down the stump of a tree. His jaw shook as he inhaled the lit cigarette. He pushed the smoke out of his nose. 

Hausmann hummed. “Yes, Amelia. Amelia Mae Egan, correct?”

 John leaned forward. How the hell did he know that? He clenched his teeth. The tips of his ears reddened.

The interrogator nodded, his eyebrow-raising in amusement at the pilot’s demeanor shift. John saw the wheels turning in the man's head. In frustration, he ashed the cigarette and dropped his hand against the desk with a thud. The blonde interrogator met John's blue eyes. 

“Sorry, Major, I had to ask for documentation. She’s a beautiful woman. I didn’t think these kinds of…couplings were common in America. They aren’t here.” Gasket blown.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little confused,” John hissed. His voice raised an octave which caused the interrogator to jump slightly.``You asked if I was married, and I said yes. I don’t see the point you’re trying to make here, but I’m sure it isn't a part of your freakin’ protocol. Keep my wife out of it.”

Hausmann raised his hands in defense and laughed lightly. John failed to find the joke. His patience wore thin. “Easy, Major Egan. I meant no harm. But um, I have to say, you are making this harder than it needs to be. I simply would like to talk to you, so, I’ll ask you again…”

The words went over his head. His mind spiraled out of control. He had never seen this man in his life yet he knew of his personal life? He knew of Amelia. His precious Rose. He knew of his relationship with Buck, and he was holding it in front of him like a treat for an animal. Is that how he was viewed? As a rabid animal who went killing people like it was a sport? 

No, that wasn’t the case at all. He was nothing but a soldier trying to defend his country. If there was another way to solve the issue, who would he be to decline the proposition? And this…this was the punishment for it? His dignity, his life, and his purpose were all questioned by a man who was no better than he was. It was torture.

John’s tongue scraped the roof of his mouth as he lifted his eyes from the papers littered across the desk. Planes crashed. Soldiers lost. His wife at home, clueless about what had gone on. She was unaware if he was alive or dead. Hell, he had no clue where his fate lay either. Would there even be an opportunity to hear her voice again? He could only pray. 

He blinked away the tears that pooled in his eyes. Once again, he stated, “John Egan. Major…” Torture indeed. 

My top Rafe Cameron writer 🙏🏽🙏🏽

Can i request a rafe cameron oneshot please? With daddy kink, something like Rafe manipulating reader into believing he's the only one who would love her since not even her dad loved her, it can start with them figthing and making her cry just to console her with the same hands that hurted her <3

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴀʙᴜsɪᴠᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ; ᴀʙᴜsɪᴠᴇ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ; ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ; ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ! ᴋɪɴᴋ; ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ɪssᴜᴇs; ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ. ᴅɴɪ ɪғ ᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ!!!

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴀʜʜʜʜ, ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ɪssᴜᴇs sᴏ ᴛʜɪs ʜɪᴛ ʜᴀʀᴅᴅᴅᴅ! ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʜʜʜʜ! (ᴛᴀɢ: @rvfecamerons ɪʟʏʏʏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ᴜ ғᴏʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ sᴏ ᴋɪɴᴅᴅᴅᴅ)

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

You stand in the dimly lit living room, your heart pounding as you watch Rafe pace back and forth. His eyes, once a soft blue that you loved, now seem dark and unreadable. He's furious. You don't know why, but you assume it's his father. You’ve been building up the courage to say this for weeks, and the words finally tumble out, even though you know you shouldn't say this now.

“I’m leaving, Rafe. I can’t do this anymore.” you whisper, your voice shaking.

The air grows still. Rafe stops pacing and turns to face you. His jaw tightens, and you can see the fury building behind his gaze. You take a step back, regretting your choice of words, but it’s too late to take them back now.

You pity yourself. You know you're not brave or smart enough, actually. That's how you felt your entire life. That's why you thought leaving Rafe. He is everything you aren't: smart, rich, admired. You're just the dumb, overly emotional girl who has never been loved. And also...his agressive acts are getting worse, reminding you of your father. And you hate that with burning passion.

“The fuck did you just say?” His voice is low, dangerously calm, sending chills down your spine. You let out a shaky sob, closing your eyes to stop the tears threatening to fall.

"I asked you a fuckin' question!" he yells, the sudden change of tone making you flinch. When you don't answer, he laughs, half annoyed, half patronising.

"Oh, wow..." he says, raising his hands mockingly, "not so brave anymore, huh?"

"w-well..I-" you start, trying to make your voice sound steady.

In an instant, he’s in front of you, his hands gripping your wrists tightly. The suddenness of his movement and the intensity in his eyes make you gasp. His fingers dig into your skin, and you wince, the pain mixing with the terror that’s quickly rising inside you.

“Are you talkin' back, tryin' to get fuckin' smart with me?,” he shouts in your face. You screw your eyes shut, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Your insticts make you pull away, but his grip tightens. "Hey!" he yells, pulling you into his chest, his hands gripping yours unforgivingly. "Open your fuckin' eyes and look at me!" he demands.

When you don't obey his command, one of his hands leaves your wrist and connects with your jaw. He holds your head up, forcing eye contact, and your teary eyes meet his dark ones, sending new waves of pure terror through your body. The grip on your jaw is painful, but not as the flashbacks that flood your mind.

You remember the way your father used to do the same thing when you talked back or refused to do something he asked you to.

Panic makes you choke on air, and you let out a frightened 'I cannot breathe, R-Rafe...'

The room seems to close in around you, and all you can focus on is the pain in your wrists and the darkness in Rafe’s eyes.

He doesn’t seem to hear you, or if he does, he doesn’t care. “You think you can just leave? Okay, do it, baby! Where you goin'? To your daddy's? That used to beat your ass?.” His voice is harsh, making you whimper. His words hurt more than anything.

He finally loosens his grip slightly, just enough for you to gasp for air. But he doesn’t let go. “You’re not leaving,” he repeats, his voice softer but no less menacing. “Do you understand?”

You nod frantically, desperate to placate him, to make this nightmare end.

For a moment, he studies your face, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he releases your wrists. You stumble back, cradling them to your chest, your tears falling freely now. Your heart races, and you feel a cold dread settle in your stomach. He approaches you again, pulling you into an intoxicating hug. You sob in his chest, tears soaking his shirt. He gently soothes you, caressing your back. It feels so wrong, but yet there you are, letting the man that hurt you also comfort you.

"Daddy's here, baby..." he says, the nickname he gave himself lowkey making you sick. "I love you, only me", he says, smiling as he grips your chin and makes you look at him. "I'm your everything, baby. Never forget that. I really love you, baby..." he whispers, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You nod again, unable to find your voice, the fear still gripping you tightly. You know in that moment that things have changed, that you’re trapped in a way you hadn’t fully realized before. And the worst part is, you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to escape.

"It's okay, baby...Daddy's here." he finished, making your skin crawl.

— A. Y.

I am jealous of those who think more deeply, who write better, who draw better, who look better, who live better, who love better than I.

-Sylvia Plath

"Come home to me" kind of love