#I talked to melville this way too

[dazedvivenne]

Heyy, can you please write reader begging rafe cameron for just the tip when reader is ran out of condoms and is not on birth control? plss 🙏🏼

RAFE CAMERON - FEELINGS THAT WILL NOT GO WITHOUT BEING RECIPROCATED

warnings: Smut, stepbro!Rafe, stepcest, p in v, female receiving, no protection.

Rafe had a lot on his mind, money, his addiction, one of the other things on his mind was you. His newly introduced step-sister.

You were sweet, beautiful, submissive, and most importantly sexy. Some of the things you did without thinking about it shocked Drew, like when you forgot to wear a bra in a white dress. He could see your nipples through your shirt but he didn't say anything.

A lot of the simple things you did turned Rafe on, when you tie your long hair up, when you move your hair out of your face when laughing, biting your lip out of habit, when you passionately talk about something you love.

It all made Rafe want to rock your world, he didn't want to call it a quick fuck, that's no fun. Plus you were way too hot to only fuck once. So he would have to take your pleasure into consideration.

It was all a peaceful evening for Rafe until you came downstairs in your pyjamas, it was a Brandy Melville two piece. The shorts were to short and showed off half of your ass, and the long sleeve shirt was nearly see through. Of course you wouldn't be wearing a bra.

Rafe was with his two friends, Topper and Kelce. It annoyed him whenever they spoke about how attractive you were, Rafe would think it but never say it out loud.

You skipped down the stairs, your breast bouncing with each skip. The shorts riding up your thighs, "Ward told me to watch the movie with you." You exclaimed.

Toppers jaw hung low, taking in all of your beauty. Topper wouldn't mind leaving Sarah for you, you were a different type of beauty.

Rafe rolled his eyes, "Whatever." Rafe grumbled, acting annoyed but secretly loving the situation you're getting yourself into. Watching as you walked over to the couch and plopped down beside Rafe.

Kelce licked his lips at the sight of you, "Want a blanket? It's gonna get cold." Kelce offered, his hand out with a fluffy blanket.

You nodded your head and took the blanket from Kelce, "Thank you." You smiled at Kelce, snuggling into the blankets warmth.

You were sat in the middle of Rafe and Topper, both of the boys were distracted by your presence. How could someone be so unbearable perfect.

The lust in the air was getting unbearable for Rafe, "I'm gonna put on The Godfather." Rafe spoke up, using the television remote to turn on the iconic movie.

You nodded your head, scooting closer to Rafe and resting your head on his shoulder. You rested your head on your biological brother all of the time so it didn't seem strange to you.

Rafe attempted to focus on the movie, but that was hard to do when he could see right down your shirt. He tried acting casual about wrapping his arm around the back of the couch.

Hours after the movie had finally ended, Topper and Kelce feeling tired. “I think I’m gonna go home, you two take care.” Topper said respectfully, getting off the couch and leaving the house by the front door.

Rafe stared at Kelce, waiting for him to leave. “Ain’t it passed your bedtime?” Rafe joked towards Kelce. Knowing his parents are particularly strict.

Kelce chuckled and shook his head, “Your right… I’m gonna go now.” Kelce stood up, “Bye Rafe… (Y/N).” Kelce mumbled as he walked out of the big houses front doors.

Rafe looked down at you, “You tired yet?” Rafe grunted, glancing at your lips which you noticed but decided to ignore.

You shrugged your shoulders, sitting up and stretching, arching your back with your arms in the air. Only if you knew how intoxicating this was for Rafe.

Rafe watched carefully as you did this, “I…” Rafe was go hypnotized by the curve in your back as you arched it, he wondered if he could make your back arch as he made you feel good.

When you were done stretching you turned to your Rafe, “I think it’s best if we both get some rest.” You suggested, acting as if you hadn’t felt a strange feeling for Rafe currently. You wanted to deny those feelings as much as possible, but they kept growing.

Rafe nodded his head, biting his lip, “Or…” Rafe was feeling brave in this moment. Placing his hand on your lower back, “We could fuck.” Rafe said bluntly.

You gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth and giggling. “You’re kidding… right?” Your giggles stopped when you saw a serious expression on Rafe’s face.

“Don’t you feel something between us?” Rafe wondered, rubbing your back cautiously. The both of you knew how wrong this was, this is why no one ever made a move until now.

You scrunched up your nose while thinking, acting as if you’ve never thought about this before. “But you’re my brother in law…”

Rafe chuckled deeply, shaking his head and rubbing his jaw. “That’s nothing. Just cause are parents are married doesn’t mean we can’t fool around.” Rafe proposed, only if he knew how ridiculous he sounded right now.

“Actually that’s exactly why this is wrong.” You argued, propping yourself closer to Rafe. “But there something about you i need.” You whispered in Rafe ear, sultry and sweet was the way you spoke.

“Fuck…” Rafe grunted, not expecting you to reciprocate his proposal. Watching as you crawled over onto his lap, kissing down his neck.

This is all very unexpected for Rafe, this only ever happened in his head. Never before had he ever expected you to do this to him. Especially because you were the one doing all of the moves he wanted to do on you.

Rafe gently grabbed your throat, pushing you away from his lovesick neck. “I wanted to guide this.” You muttered, “You seem inexperienced.” You added.

This aggravated Rafe a little bit, “Shut up, I got this.” Rafe blurted, his dominant side coming out. How did you think Rafe Cameron was inexperienced? He was known for being a slut.

You smiled excitedly, liking that you got to be submissive instead of being in charge, cause truthfully you didn’t know what you were even doing.

Rafe lightly pushed you onto your back, while holding onto your throat, “I’ve got a burning desire for you (Y/N.)” Rafe husked, letting his fantasies unwind, he could do anything he wanted with you.

You were shocked with the way Rafe used his words, “You make me feel like I’m on a buzz.” You admit, blushing slightly.

Rafe smiled, biting his lip and bringing his hand to the waist band of your shorts. Gently tugging them down, you weren’t wearing panties. Who could have predicted that.

Rafe smirked, kissing your inner thigh as you kicked off the thin material you called shorts. Rafe placed both of his hands on either side of you hips, holding you down onto the couch.

Kissing up to your flower, when he got to it he started licking your wet folds like a mad man. Forget his cocaine addiction, this was way more addictive.

Tasting every inch of your pussy, little whimpers escaping your mouth. Trying to be as quiet as possible since you didn’t want to get caught by either of your parents.

Rafe sucked on your clit, rubbing his face in between your thighs, “Taste so good.” Rafe relished, feeling his shorts tighten around his member, ignoring it since he was so focused on the sweet taste of you.

Rafe gave you one final lick before pulling away from your heat, sitting up in front of your spread legs. Pulling his shorts down to his mid-thighs, eager to feel the insides of you.

You bite your lip as Rafe lined himself up with you, stroking himself to the sight of you. Pure bliss in this moment for the two of you.

“Are you on the pill?” Rafe asked, his voice husky and low. Still stroking himself, he didn’t have a conform with him. It’s not like he was expecting this to happen.

You shook your head, “It’s fine. Just please.” You moaned, bringing your hand down to your clit, rubbing it in circles and your other hand groped your breast. “Please fuck me, Rafe.” You whined out.

Rafe shook his head, “I can’t risk getting you pregnant, you’re still my step-sister after all.” Rafe reminded you, feeling his heart beat a bit faster as you pleasured yourself since Rafe wasn’t.

You rolled your eyes, “Please… at least just the tip.” You begged, biting your lip while looking into Rafe’s eyes. Ecstasy’s in each other’s eyes, getting high off of each others pleasuring eyes.

Rafe smiled, “What was that? I couldn’t hear you over all of the whimpering.” Rafe teased, chuckling a bit to himself. He knows exactly what you want.

“Fuck me hard, please.” You ask nicely, hoping Rafe will do as you asked. Watching as he lets go of his dick and spreads your legs a bit more.

Rafe slowly lined himself up with you, tapping the tip of his penis on your hole. Teasing you after all of the begging, “Hmmm,” Rafe hummed in pleasure.

You impatiently put the tip inside you with your hand, Rafe grabbed your wrist and slammed them into the couches cushion. “Don’t fucking act like a slut.” Rafe whisper shouted in your face.

You nodded your head submissively. Unexpectedly Rafe forced himself inside your hole aggressively, a loud moan escaping your mouth. Rafe slapped his hand on your mouth as the other one held onto your waist.

Rafe slowly bucked his hips into yours, feeling his penis slam into your walls. A delight for the both of you.

As the two of you fucked roughly on the couch, a storm started to form in the skies. It would be noticeable if either of you broke eyes contact.

Rafe grinding into you, your mumbled moan and whimpers into Rafe’s hand. “Good girl, keep quiet for me.” Rafe rasped, his strong hand leaving a red mark on your waist.

You felt like you were on your honeymoon in the middle of a beach, fucking for the first time. But in reality you were on a couch in your step-father’s house, for the second time in your life.

Rafe threw his head back, grunting as his hips snapped into yours. Sweat starting to form on the boys body, his hair now shining in the pale moonlight.

“I’m close.” Rafe warned you, grabbing one of your legs and placing it over his shoulder, slamming into your cervix now. A whole new feeling taking over your body, pain and pleasure.

You moaned out loud, not caring if either of you ever got caught. This was the most divine moment of your life.

You felt Rafe’s cock twitch inside of you, coating your walls with his thick cum as you nearly screamed with orgasming.

Rubbing your clit as your thighs began to shake. Rafe still softly jumping you, riding down from his high. The feeling eventually died down for you as well.

Rafe pulled out of you, his cum slowly dripping out of your vagina, a beautiful sight to see for Rafe. His mind taking a photo of this blissful moment with you.

Rafe lent over and kissed your forehead, “I’ll buy some plan-B tomorrow.” Rafe mumbled into your forehead.

Getting up to go get a towel to clean the both of you.

[maleficentmrsofallevil]

The BJD White Whale

In Herman Melville's Moby Dick, Captain Ahab went on a revenge quest against a white sperm whale (named Moby Dick) for biting his leg off in a prior voyage. This revenge quest ended up basically destroying good ol' Ahab.

BJD collectors talk all the time about "grails" - the dolls you want but may never find. Don't ever read much about them white whales, tho. The doll you were going to create, the character you were going to shell, the hybrid you planned, and years later, your plan still hasn't panned out. The mods were too difficult. The glue never adhered properly. The dye didn't take.

My white whale: a hybrid for this legit Fairyland Chic Line Lishe head with literally any legit body.

This bitch's head has caused me so much frustration and misery.

I picked a fight with a DOA mod over this bitch. I have spent an uncounted amount of money trying to find a body for this bitch. I have met some of the worst collectors in the BJD hobby over this bitch. ("They can't re-release this line, or my doll will go down in value, and that's just unacceptable." No. Your doll is gonna yellow, and down down down goes your value, kiddo.)

Sure, she doesn't look too bad on this Dollpamm Skinny(F01) body when she's got clothes on, but take them off or look at her sideways, and...

Neck flare!

Sure, the Doll Family H Xiao Chan 1/5 scale girl body is the right size, but it's totally the wrong look for a mature female head:

I've learned that doll-company provided measurements are totally unreliable: I purchased 2D Doll Cherry Tomato. According to the website, her measurements were almost perfect.

Got the doll. She was HUGE.

1/4 scale? More like 50 cm tweener.

Tried Dollshe 16F and 26F fashion-sized dolls. Shoulders were way too broad. Even tried a SugarBone body and a discontinued Allegorica Evelyn. No dice.

So when the dealer emailed me back and said Fairyland wasn't interested in rebooting the line without hundreds of customers, welp - this Captain Ahab went out and bought another body.

Huajing 1/4 special body. Like 2D Doll, the measurements should be perfect. I'm not worried about height - I had the head on a Ficondoll body, and I was good with the height.

If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, I am certifiable.

[anas-aspiration]

A fic where the reader has a crush on Carl but he is with Enid, but the reader keeps pursueing him and finally he gaves in, Carl and the reader have an affair (some smut occurs) Enid finds out about it, she and Carl have an bad argument and at the end they break up and Carl is happy with the reader :)

Bell

warnings: smut, vaginal sex, cheating, angst, fluff, not proofread, got tired at the end, edited 1721 words

The air was too warm for this time of night. You tossed and turned in your bed trying to locate a comfortable spot to fall asleep in. But it seemed impossible at this point. You sighed in defeat and got up, snuck in your slippers, and headed out of your house to go bother Carl, who usually stayed up around this time.

You would’ve thought to slip into something other than pajamas but you were far to lazy. And you had to admit that you wanted Carl to see you in this white brandy Melville intimates set. Even though he had a girlfriend, Enid, you couldn’t care less about what they had going on. You aren’t selfish or narcissistic, you just like to get what you want, especially if what you want, gives you heart eyes every time you’re around him.

You approached his window, making sure to avoid the prickly weeds under his window that always cut your ankles, and knocked softly.

“Carl?” You whispered “Hellooo?”

It was silent for a few seconds. You began to wonder if he was at Enids house.

Then you heard the bathroom door open followed by footsteps.

“Carl open the window!” you exclaimed, raising your voice.

His footsteps approached the window before he spread the blinds and peaked through. He looked relaxed, towel hung around his waist indicating that he just got out of the shower. Your eyes trailed down in a swift motion, blush flooding your cheeks.

“Hey y/n, you wanna come in?” He began lifting the blinds and unlocking his window.

“Yeah but I don’t wanna bother you if your busy or anything”

“Oh no I’m not busy at all. I’m just gonna get into my pajamas real quick so” he walked to his drawer pulling out some clothes before disappearing back into his bathroom.

You climbed through his window and looked around his room to see what might be new. It seemed he got a few more additions to his pile of comics, by now it was at least a foot tall. You sifted through the one on top when something sticking out caught your eye. You went through the pages again and came across the polaroid he took of you a few months prior hidden in between pages.

You smiled to yourself, taken aback by the fact that he would keep it there as if it was important to him.

You turned to see him coming out of the bathroom in a fresh pajamas.

“Hey I didn’t know you kept this.” You lifted the picture for him to see before examining it again. “This was such a fun day, do you remember how much trouble we got in for sneaking back in the gates soaking wet”

“Yeah, that was mostly your fault too. If you didn’t push me in I wouldn’t have had to bring you down with me” he chuckled

“No! It’s your fault too because you kept swimming and” you hesitated for a second letting out an awkward laugh “yeah it’s both our faults”

He smiled as he sat next to you on the bed. It was quiet for a couple of seconds. He had noticed the way you paused after mentioning swimming. You remembered how that day in the polaroid went. You guys had found a pond outside Alexandria and swam around in your undergarments before you both got too close and ended up kissing. He had been with Enid for a couple weeks at that point.

“I know what you’re thinking about” you muttered

“I thought we weren’t going to mention or think of that moment ever again” he responded

“Yeah well..” you trailed off “I think it’s okay now that we’re wayy past it”

“You want to talk about it?” he made eye contact with you, his breathing deep.

“It couldn’t hurt” you shrugged “Did you.. ever tell enid?”

“No..”

“You just forgot about it?”

“No.. I thought about it”

You noticed how his manner changed as he answered that.

“Do you still like- want it?” you asked referring to ‘it’ as the kiss

There was a loud moment of silence.

“Y/n.” he mumbled

“You do?” you realized that the whole time you guys were pretending nothing happened, nothing changed. The feelings were still there, maybe even growing.

He stayed silent looking down.

“Then kiss me”

“Y/n we can’t-“

“Yes we can. Don’t let Enid stop you from having this.. we made no progress whatsoever trying to forget.” you scooted closer to him

You kissed in rhythm, it felt like everything was falling into place all at once. Completely in bliss you crawled on top of his lap deepening the kiss, the hot air now filling you with energy.

He grabbed the strap of your tank and slowly dragged it down your shoulder.

In response you broke apart and lifted the shirt off your body, your chest now completely bear. You looked at him, hair disheveled and pupils dilated.

“Are you sure-“

“Whatever you were about to ask, yes I’m so sure just please”

He leaned in for a more demanding kiss like he was finally sure he really wanted you. You moved your hands down to untie the strings of his pajama bottoms while he kissed down your chest.

After a moment more, both of you were completely undressed , you were beneath him and his hand was snaking down your body. Shivers followed close behind his touch.

Once he reached your inner thigh he began tracing his fingers around your soft skin, knowing it would make you impatient.

“Carl..”

“I know.. don’t rush this”

After a few more seconds of him massaging your thighs, softly, he lined himself up with you.

“You ready f’me?”

“yeah” you whimpered softly

“Try not to make to much sound kay?” He said as he slowly slid into you

You choked out a small moan trying to comply.

“God your perfect” he said planting kisses down your jawline

He thrusted into you at the perfect pace, lewd sounds filling the air. He pleasured you almost effortlessly, yet hit every spot that had your eyes rolling back.

You were both stuck in a state of euphoria, the only thing you could think about was how pretty his hair fell in this position and how perfectly he filled you. It was all overwhelming you turned your face into the pillow, feeling him hit your sweet spot.

“Fuck, y/n don’t be shy” he said slightly panting

You smiled to yourself, turning back, and pulled him in for a sharp kiss.

“I’m close” you said feeling time slow

“Mm not yet” he cooed

You were a little taken aback by him delaying your orgasm but knew it was more of a turn on.

You agreed but found yourself subconsciously moving your hips in a circular motion chasing the orgasm.

You felt yourself tighten around him and before you knew it you felt the shockwaves of your orgasm. Your vision blurred and your breath became heavy. You rode it out only realizing about mid-through that Carl came too.

You relaxed as he pulled out, now feeling a small ache.

You heard him go into the bathroom and fetch something. Once he returned you felt a warm wet towel graze your stomach.

“Hold still”

The gesture warmed your heart as you sat up to see him with a cute concentrated look on his face.

Once he disappeared back into the bathroom you re-dressed yourself and turned on the fan laying on his desk.

He came back in and planted a kiss on your forehead, intwining your fingers together.

“Do you want something to eat? Then we can talk”

“Yeah do you have ramen?”

“Yeah I’ll be right back”

You sat wondering if you guys were gonna have to stay a secret or if he was gonna tell Enid. You would hate to be secretive but telling Enid would definitely be hell. Would she freak out on you or-

“Y/n?” Enid crowed

You whipped your head around toward the window. Your thoughts were racing between what the fuck and what do I say.

“Enid! Wow Hi, uh…wow”

She smiled awkwardly, eyes tracing the room.

“What are you doing here? Is Carl home? Does he know your here?”

“Um. Well yeah he knows I’m here he’s just in the kitchen getting food for us.. we were just-“

“I think I’ll just ask him” she interrupted, climbing in the window and walking out into the hallway.

You felt stiff and suffocated. Thinking about what Enid might do is easier than living through it.

You stood up, hearing their footsteps near the room.

“Y/n what were you doing here again?” She asked squinting her eyes

“I told you we-“

“No Carl I’m asking her”

You looked to Carl not knowing what to say. You could tell she was testing you.

“I just got here and asked for food.. why are you so worried? Jesus.” You said, trying your best to sound nonchalant

“I’m not worried. Carl just said you guys were about to call it a night because you’ve been reading comics since 6.”

Your mouth fell slightly open. You wanted to say something but didn’t know what

“You guys are together aren’t you”

You both stayed silent. You wanted to deny but knew you couldn’t.

“Forget it, you an asshole Carl” she said, leaving through the window

“No Enid wait” as soon as she was outside he followed her

You just stood their frozen. Your mind was wandering, hearing their muffled fighting outside. You decided you just wanted to go home.

You tried walking past their scene with no notice but failed.

“Y/n go to hell” Enid snapped

“You first” you said rolling your eyes

Carl grabbed onto your wrist to stop you from walking any further.

“Okay just wait. Stay. Please”

“Wow you guys make me sick” Enid said continuing to walk home

Later you and Carl snuggled up in his bed, exhausted from the past two hours, and the long talk you guys had about what you are now.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“I love you. I’ve known way before the lake thing. I’m sorry I dragged it out so long without telling you” he said lightly dragging his fingers over your hairline.

“I love you too”

A/N!!!

I am so sorry this took so long😭😭 I’ve never had writers block b4 and now I have 5 other versions of this sitting in my notes app but YOLOO. And I literally tried to keep it short but it never works

[desperateknot]

Limbus Company's Queequeg is based on The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen. Here is why I think so:

Disclaimer: First of all, I am not a native English speaker. Therefore, there might be some parts which I have phrased weirdly and some grammatical mistakes. More importantly, I may have fully understood or maybe even misunderstood some parts of the source materials. If I made some mistakes, please be patient with me. Secondly, I have independently realised this connection. However, I am sure that there may be people before me who have already had this idea. Not all points I discussed here are discovered by myself. Thirdly, it is recommended that you reread the original story by Hans Christian Andersen to understand what I would be talking about. Personally I read it from

Now, I will list all the parallels between the story of The Little Mermaid and Limbus Company's Queequeg.

1. Queequeg quite literally almost became a Mermaid, and her motivation in the quest was not to be consumed by the pale and become a Mermaid too. The Little Mermaid in Hans Christian Andersen’s story wanted to stop being a mermaid and gain an immortal soul.

Ishmael: It's the Mermaids' cry… Queequeg: Our future. If we fail to escape. Queequeg: Cry and cry. Trying to kill all we see. Queequeg: Then melt. Very slowly. And later… Queequeg: Float away. Like we were never here. Queequeg: Don't want to be Mermaid. Queequeg: The Pallid Whale. Have to kill it. Only then, we get out.

Canto V Dungeon: Floor 2

“I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars.”

The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen

You may say the Mermaids in Hans Christian Andersen's story and the mermaids in pmverse aren't the same thing. And you would be right. However, please notice Queequeg's wordings regarding the mermaids' demise. Because that is a surprise tool that would help us later.

2. The Little Mermaid is a daughter of the Sea King: she is a princess of the ocean, while Moby Dick Queequeg is the son and the rightful heir of the king of the fictional island of Kokovoko, making him the Prince of said island. Limbus Queequeg, while not being a literal prince or princess, is of considerably high prestige when she was with the Middle, her original (?) family.

The Sea King had been a widower for many years, and his aged mother kept house for him. [...] She was, however, deserving of very great praise, especially for her care of the little sea-princesses, her grand-daughters. They were six beautiful children; but the youngest was the prettiest of them all; [...]; but, like all the others, she had no feet, and her body ended in a fish’s tail.

The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen

His father was a High Chief, a King; his uncle a High Priest; and on the maternal side he boasted aunts who were the wives of unconquerable warriors. There was excellent blood in his veins—royal stuff; [...].

Moby Dick by Herman Melville: Chapter XI - Biographical

Queequeg: They wanted to make me 'Big Sister'.

Canto V Dungeon: Floor 2

3. The Mermaid wanted to grow up to see the world above the ocean, since she wasn’t allowed to until she reached the age of 15. Queequeg, similarly, wanted to become a Big Sister. 

When the sisters rose, arm-in-arm, through the water in this way, their youngest sister would stand quite alone, looking after them, ready to cry, [...]. “Oh, were I but fifteen years old,” said she: “I know that I shall love the world up there, and all the people who live in it.”

The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen

Queequeg: So I killed. And killed. And killed. Not because of orders. Killed with my own hands. Because I wanted to. Because I wanted respect as Big Sister.

Canto V Dungeon: Floor 2

4. The Mermaid abandoned her family under the ocean to marry the Prince so that she could gain an immortal soul. Moby Dick Queequeg also left his family in search of Christendom. Game Queequeg ran away from the Middle (who also called themselves a family) to pursue a new life for her own.

“I know what you want. [...] You want to get rid of your fish’s tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like human beings on earth, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and that you may have an immortal soul.”

The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen

A Sag Harbor ship visited his father’s bay, and Queequeg sought a passage to Christian lands. [...] Struck by his desperate dauntlessness, and his wild desire to visit Christendom, the captain at last relented, and told him he might make himself at home

Moby Dick by Herman Melville: Chapter XI - Biographical

Queequeg: And I ran. Again.

Canto V Dungeon: Floor 2

5. The Mermaid exchanged her voice for a pair of legs when going to land. Queequeg had herself be lobotomised and lost some of her speech ability as one way to cut herself off from the Middle, escaping them. More prominently, in the original story, the Sea Witch explicitly demanded that the Mermaid let her cut her tongue as payment. We can see how that parallels Queequeg explicitly stating that the doctor cut up her tongue.

“But I must be paid also [...] You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; [...]."

"[...] Put out your little tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught.” “It shall be,” said the little mermaid.

The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen

Queequeg: My speech, also touched by the Middle. So I went to doctor… to cut up my tongue. To cut up my brain. To break myself.

Canto V Dungeon: Floor 2

6. The Little Mermaid feels pain with every step after drinking the potion to turn her tail into legs. Queequeg also felt pain when she cut herself in an attempt to erase the tattoos of the Middle.

"[...] Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. [...] At every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow.

Every step she took was as the witch had said it would be, she felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives [...]

[...] She danced again quite readily, to please him, though each time her foot touched the floor it seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.

The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen

Queequeg used to spend some nights… … in crushing loneliness. In unbearable pain. Queequeg sat in the corner of a dark, dark room. She looked down at her arms. Then, with a small dagger she uses for cutting harpoon ropes… She mercilessly tore into her arms. Like she was carving something into her flesh.

Canto V Dungeon: Floor 2

7. The Mermaid died when she refused to kill the Prince because she loves him too much. Queequeg died because Ishmael "unearthed" her broken heart, as Ahab said. Her faith in Ahab crumbled because of her affection for Ishmael. 

[...] The knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam.

The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen

Effloresced E.G.O::GasHarpoon Ahab: This happened because you dared to unearth her buried heart! Because you forced her broken heart into the open! Effloresced E.G.O::GasHarpoon Ahab: The fault lies with you once again, Ishmael! Effloresced E.G.O::GasHarpoon Ahab: Look at what you've done. Watch her determination crumble, her conviction collapse. Now, with her faith broken, the pale claims Queequeg!

Canto V Dungeon: Floor 3

In a way, she died because of her affection for Ishmael. I think we can all agree the affection that she held toward Ishmael is what allowed the pale to consume her. What kind of affection this is doesn’t matter, even though I, an Ishqueg shipper, have my own personal answer for it.

8. The Little Mermaid died turning into seafoams. Except she didn't. She was a good enough person to be turned into a daughter of air, and with enough good deeds, she can achieve an immortal soul.

"A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. [...] But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves. [...] After we have striven for three hundred years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul.”

The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen

Limbus Queequeg died having her ego dissolved into Ahab and after that, “disintegrated until she was no more”, not unlike the fate of turning into seafoam.

Except. She didn't. Sort of. In the end, her soul assisted Ishmael in killing the whale. Her immortal soul?

This is where I circle back to my first point. "Queequeg didn't want to turn into Mermaid". This is correct, however, for our purpose, we can say she didn't want to dissolve into nothing, like foam of the sea, which perfectly matches up with the Little Mermaid's motivation.

ISHMAEL: That she didn't want the Whales and Mermaids to tear her apart and devour her when her corpse sinks deep into its waters.

Canto V Dungeon: Floor 1

Queequeg: Then melt. Very slowly. And later… Queequeg: Float away. Like we were never here.

Canto V Dungeon: Floor 2

“So I shall die,” said the little mermaid, “and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?”

The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen

Other than those direct parallels from their stories, there are still more themes that I have yet to talk about.

1. The sun is seemingly a theme from The Little Mermaid. When living as a princess Mermaid under the sea, the Mermaid was said to arrange her personal flower bed to be “round like the sun, and contained flowers as red as his rays at sunset” and that she “cared for nothing but her pretty red flowers, like the sun”. Other than that, the first time the Little Mermaid rose to the surface was explicitly right after sunset and that she also died right at sunrise. This is a more tenuous connection, so I put it here, but we all know how Queequeg loved the colour of Ishmael's hair, which was compared to the sunset.

2. When the Mermaid was finally 15 and allowed to rise to the surface for the first time, her grandmother dressed her up for the occasion, by placing a wreath of white lilies on her hair with half a pearl on every flowers’ leaves — although the Mermaid princess found the wreath to be heavy and would much prefer her own red flowers. Then, her grandmother “ordered eight great oysters to attach themselves to the tail of the princess to show her high rank.”

When the Princess said this was hurting her, her grandmother replied with “Pride must suffer pain.”

I think that line sums up Queequeg's life in the Middle best. She did not seem to have enjoyed all the killing and torturing of innocents, but the tattoos she got for enacting “Vengeance” shows her high rank and prestige. 

3. In between Moby Dick's Queequeg left his home in search of Christianity only to be disappointed, The Little Mermaid's effort to attain an immortal soul having some religious subtext, and also the Middle calling themselves a familial terms while following strictly a decree from a book, it gives Queequeg a bit of Christianity themes. (But it is really in a particular way). One can also read her leaving the Middle as something similar to Adam and Eve being casted from the Garden of Eden: stripped of protection and comfort for the burden of knowledge and guilt.

What exactly it means, I am really not of the authority to say further, as I am not at all religious. I am living and grew up in a particularly secular country and also doesn't have any education about the subject.

So, assuming that I have proved that Limbus Queequeg has another source material other than Moby Dick, where do we go from here? If Queequeg is the Little Mermaid, who is the prince? Who is the Sea King, her grandmother, her sisters?

Next time, I will discuss why her utter lacks of autonomy is a feature, not a bug, but it is a bug sometimes.

And how Limbus Ahab is a prince. That is important too.

[tfdtreasurer]

sorry for not asking about eridan but, why the feferi hate?

Don't worry anon I fully expected this question to be one of the first. Besides, Eridan and Feferi are foils to each other and thus any look at one is being done in the context of the other. Narratively, they're inseparable. My actual nuanced opinion on Feferi is that she's a bad person, a fascinating character, and yet one that I feel is so tragically misunderstood by everybody that it leads me to not liking how she's liked. If that makes any sense.

The short answer is she's one of the most casteist trolls out there. And not in the way Equius is, or Gamzee becomes, or Eridan claims to be. Her's is just a little too real and it kinda gives me icky vibes.

The long answer is... Well there's a reason a whole essay was in the works. If Eridan alludes to Herman Melville's novel Moby Dick of 1851, Feferi alludes to Rudyard Kipling's poem "The White Man's Burden" of 1899 (which in a semi timely way, was published to the context of the Philippine–American War). In her first pesterlog with Kanaya, "burdens" is the word used to refer to her responsibilities. Not really enough on it's own, but then you keep reading Feferi pages. Eridan being the best that alternia breeds, seemingly exiled from living in the sea to serve her captives' needs. The captivity of animals that she's associated with bolstering that. How she espouses a desire to unite the races, but mentions having plans for the throne, implicitly retaining imperial power. Her weapon being named after the triple entente, an alliance of colonialist powers. How she remarks royalty is so civilized, alluding to the colonialist projects of that era being referred to the West's civilizing mission. The way she talks to Jade and is quick to use the r-word, like she'd have to make her speech a hundred times plain. Just the way that she often has other people doing things for her that seems to emulate the delegatory voice of the poem. Eridan being the orphaner for her. In the Make her Pay flash (which is the best flash don't @ me), she has Sollux fight for her as she seems to sit back. Even her creation of the dream bubbles is something she asks of the gods to do for her. And if you think I'm searching for patterns in the clouds here with my ancient-ass 1800s literature: just take a look at the regime of Beforus Feferi. How casteism wasn't abolished, it just became patronizing the lesser and pretending that considering them lesser but in need wasn't the inequality is was.

Eridan is interesting in combination with her because they're designed to contrast each other. Eridan is so deeply associated with hipster inauthenticity, pretention, over exaggerated theater, and explicitly mentions that villainy is practically a performance for her. She calls comin off as a diabolical sort "showwmanship." But pay attention to the way that each frame dropping their quirk. Eridan drops her to become more genuine for a moment. Feferi has to be asked to drop hers and gets mad that she's had to peasantify herself. And the tragic part is that although Eridan is in the position of the audience in that poem, in essence the soldier sent to brutally occupy the Philippines, Feferi also sees her as one of the ones needing to be civilized. Eridan is to her half devil and half child, fluttering and wild, needing to be restrained by a moirallegience she seems to have never wanted from her.

I don't mean to let Eridan totally off the hook. I see her character as being under a dramatic form of siege mentality, perceiving herself to be the target of everyone's hostility. As she's the orphaner, I feel vaguely inclined to give it to her a bit. Like yeah, I can't imagine that job title comes with the perk of making friends. But her siege mentality xenophobia primarily makes her think that everybody that isn't Feferi must hate her, to the point where she only trusts people when her relationship with them is adversarial. The subversion central to Eridan's character is that while she may be genuinely xenophobic, she isn't a supremacist, nor genocidal in intent. The weapons she claims to be amassing to conquer the surface aren't military, it's just whaling equipment she uses to prevent everyone dying. The Brand Whaling Gun and Bomb Lance. Some derivative of the Greener swivel harpoon gun (that I have yet to 100% identify but I do have the original picture used for the Photoshop). Broken killing lance heads (as can be seen in my pfp being held by captain Ahab).

So why do I hate Feferi? Because she does think herself superior to others, in a way that is supremacist. She's a paternalistic casteist of the highest order and it is gross.

But here's the twist: if people believed in the Feferi I just outlined, I'd love the character. Because I still do fundamentally believe in redemption and rehabilitation of people with really shitty beliefs. Feferi could've been a character who narratively served to demonstrate how her beliefs may appear good intentioned, but actually warns the audience of the trap of real life paternalistic racism that justifies colonialism with a friendly face. A narrative where she had character development and evolved alongside Eridan. Symbolically, the orphaner killing the idea of paternalism would've been goddamned beautiful. But instead, what I got, what we got, was the fandom never picking up on the nuances, the comic itself electing to skirt around the problematic elements, all leading up to this strange quirk of Homestuck where once you're aware of all this, you really can't look at cutesy Feferi fanart the same way ever again because it never gets addressed. And I think that's sad. But, until the people that like Feferi are in the same boat as me in wanting a redemption arc for her, I'm gonna stay her #1 hater.

[bomberqueen17]

Liveblogging the Aubreyad: Post Captain Part The Last

I've lost track of how many parts I put this into. I should've pared it down more but I wrote the notes in an insomniac fever dream and like.... writing them made me realize that I hadn't really followed it thoroughly the first time I read it, so perhaps the summary is mostly useful to me after all.

Part 1: honeys and financial ruin part 2: bearsona and Indiaman read the footnote part 3: HMS Shitshow vs. The World now part 4: gibbon-related crimes, sixty thousand bees, spanish treasure

I was going to tell you about the promotions first. Yes, the cutting-out expedition was considered a resounding success, both in the press and by the Admiralty, and so glory is showered down upon the participants, surely in parts equivalent to how deserving those parties are, yes?

no.

Jack gets his promotion-- he is made post-captain at last, which was his dream.

But this means he is now too important to command the Fanciulla, which was what he had been hoping for. So he is instead cast ashore.

The Fanciulla is suitable for a master and commander. So someone is going to be rewarded with a promotion from lieutenant to commander!

Rewards such as this are given by seniority. The senior lieutenant-- yep. Parker. Not Pullings, who actually did the work, who fought like a lion in the boarding party, with his bloody axe to cut the cables. Not Babbington, who was so nobly wounded, staggering around weak from blood loss with his arm bound to his chest still carrying out orders and doing his level best dizzy and sick and brave as fuck.

No. Fucking Parker.

Lord Melville asks Jack, looking very closely at him, if Parker is fit to command. Jack cannot, cannot, cannot tell the truth; he has to do the kind thing. (Not just to be nice, but because Parker does in fact have influential friends, and carrying tales against him would set Jack up to look very distastefully like a scrub himself, even though not doing so means lying directly to the First Lord.) And so, despite having nearly lost the ship to mutiny against Parker's incompetence and tyranny, despite Parker having spent the entire action ineffectually shaking on Polychrest's deck, largely incapable of speech, Parker is rewarded.

Jack diplomatically suggests that the former Polychrests be divided up among other ships, and the Fanciulla manned out of a fresh body of men, which to an attentive ear says all that needs to be said, but Melville is not a seaman and does not catch the significance. Still, it hopefully sets Parker up for more success, and frees those who have suffered under him already from further such treatment. (He later gives Parker a pep talk about not being such a fucking idiot. Parker swears he'll do better. He's so happy. Jack takes slight consolation from this.)

Lord Melville feels so badly about casting Jack on shore after having given him the world's most wretched ship and being repaid with this absolutely beautiful little action, knowing as he does that Jack cannot spend time ashore without risking arrest, that he offers him a temporary command. Jack goes aboard the Lively, a crack frigate, to allow her regular long-term captain to spend time ashore to attend a session of Parliament.

He invites Stephen to come along as his guest. Stephen for some reason cranks up all his weirdo dials and smashes the knob off, coming ashore in a knitted onesie carrying, for some reason, a glass beehive, to Jack's astonished mortification. The people of the Lively have all been together a very long time and are set in their ways, not unkind but not very open to outsiders. They are extremely competent, can perform complex operations of the ship following one single general order, can sail their ship perilously close to land without danger, because everyone aboard knows their duty and knows their ship. Well-bred all, they politely avert their eyes from Stephen's bizarreness, and carry on.

But they haven't practiced much gunnery, so Jack has something to improve upon. He avoids being scolded for wasting too much powder by finding various little onshore French batteries and blasting the shit out of them, which answers the purpose very nicely and motivates the people to like him at least a bit.

There is a bizarre interlude with the preserved head of a gibbon. Jack is required to oversee punishment, and a sailor is charged with stealing the taxidermied head of an ape from another sailor, but insists it is his own taxidermied ape's head. Stephen provides some hint of his worth in this case, as one of the sailors' apes was female and the other male-- Jack shows him the head and asks whether it is a male or female gibbon, and Stephen immediately identifies that it is male by the cheek pouches, thus exonerating the accused of the charge of theft, as the ape's head he claimed to have owned all along was that of a male.

And another hint of Stephen's true worth comes out in this notable conversation occurs at a festive dinner, spawning a joke that is repeated throughout the rest of the series:

“Dogs,' said the chaplain, who was not one to leave his corner of the table silent long. 'That reminds me of a question I had meant to put to you gentlemen. This short watch that is about to come, or rather these two short watches - why are they called dog watches? Where, heu, heu, is the canine connection?' 'Why,' said Stephen, 'it is because they are curtailed, of course.' A total blank. Stephen gave a faint inward sigh; but he was used to this. 'Mr Butler, the bottle stands by you,' said Jack. 'Mr Lydgate, allow me to help you to a little of the undercut.' It was the midshipman who first reacted. He whispered to his neighbour Dashwood, 'He said, cur-tailed: the dogwatch is cur-tailed. Do you twig?' It was the sort of wretched clench perfectly suited to the company. The spreading merriment, the relish, the thunderous mirth, reached the forecastle, causing amazement and conjecture: Jack leaned back in his chair, wiping the tears from his scarlet face, and cried, 'Oh, it is the best thing - the best thing. Bless you, Stephen - a glass of wine with you.'

Jack repeats that one constantly.

But by day he is in lower spirits and confesses to Stephen that he should never have pursued Sophie, he will never be solvent again and has no business trying to marry anyone, he could never offer her any kind of life and will not "pester her" any longer.

Stephen goes ashore, goes to Sophie, tells her she must go down to where Jack is anchored and ask him for a lift to the Downs. (Meanwhile he is informed that Diana has gone into keeping with Canning, as his mistress. Utter scandal.)

Sophie insists she will not do such a thing, could never be so bold. But, she does.

Stephen has to go do more intelligence things, so he leaves them to it. Sophie journeys briefly on the Lively, she and Jack come to an agreement-- not quite an engagement, but an agreement. Her mother strenuously objects and Sophie is left miserable at this conflict between desire and duty, but she remains resolute.

Stephen meanwhile has discovered that Spain is entering the war on France's side, and to do so needs the contents of a treasure convoy enroute from the River Plate to Cadiz. There's time to intercept it. Stephen asks that the Lively be included in this intercepting squadron, and his wish is granted.

(He goes to the opera after relaying this intelligence, and Diana is there, in a royal box, being a decorative mistress, on display, all artificial poise and poses, deliberately charming. Stephen is horrified by this tacky display. She sees him, but he is in a box and keeps the door locked, so when someone comes and knocks he does not answer.)

He goes aboard the Lively, where there is much confusion and uproar about the new orders. And despite his efforts, Jack finds out a little something of his role in Naval Intelligence.

'I have no idea,' said Stephen. 'God damn and blast the Admiralty and all its lords,' cried Jack. 'Utmost dispatch - muck up all one's plans -I do apologize most humbly, Stephen.' He read on. 'Hey, hey, Stephen? I thought you had no idea: I thought you had just chanced to come down with the messenger. But in case of separation of one or more… certain eventualities and all that, I am requested and directed to avail myself of the counsels and advice of S. Maturin, esquire, MD etc., etc., appointed pro hac vice a captain in the Royal Navy his knowledge and discretion.' 'It is possible that you may be required to undertake some negotiations, and that I may be of use in them.' 'Well, I must be discreet myself, I find,' said Jack, sitting down and looking wonderingly at Stephen. 'But you did say…' 'Now listen, Jack, will you? I am somewhat given to lying: my occasions require it from time to time. But I do not choose to have any man alive tell me of it.' 'Oh no, no, no,' cried Jack. 'I should never dream of doing such a thing. Not,' he added, recollecting himself and blushing, 'not when I am in my right mind. Quite apart from my love for you, it is far, far too dangerous. Hush: mum's the word. Tace is the Latin for a candle. I quite understand - am amazed I did not smoke it before: what a deep old file you are. But I twig it now.'

The Admiralty gave Stephen a temporary commission so that he would share in the prize money. Stephen is still hoping to use diplomacy, but without revealing himself as the agent; he has asked for and received a Spanish-speaking negotiator who he has carefully fed lines to, and rehearsed the arguments with.

They encounter the Spanish squadron, and the negotiator goes over to speak with them. Stephen knows the Spanish admiral does not fully support this war, and had hoped that with a large enough show of force, the man would feel he could honorably surrender without a fight. But no. The negotiator is returned, unsuccessful. They fight. The Spaniards fire first.

It is a complicated action, and bloody-- one Spanish ship explodes, which is always horrible-- and at the end, the fastest Spanish ship, bearing the treasure, strikes her colors but then hoists them again and runs.

The Lively is the fastest of the British ships, and so she pursues. The Spanish ship seems to be outrunning them, and Stephen wonders that Jack is not concerned. Jack has dinner laid for four-- himself, Stephen, the captain of the Spanish ship that struck to him during the action and who is even now a prisoner on his ship, and the captain of the fleeing ship ahead of them.

And then he spreads his last remaining sails, having needed a few moments to repair the spars that held them, damaged in the action. But now that they are up and drawing, as he knew they would, the Spanish ship has no hope.

They catch her, and he invites the captain to dinner.

At dinner, they drink a toast to Sophia.

Yes that's the end of the book! Finally omg. Congratulations we did it! The other books are nowhere near this long and hopefully now that I am getting better sleep I will be better able to summarize shorter rather than quite this extreme length. But we'll see.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Nightmares and cuddles

Self-Aware! Osamu Dazai x GN!Reader x Self-Aware! Oda Sakunosuke

Description: You had a nightmare. Thankfully, two of your new friends are here to help.

Set after BSD cast get into your world.

Cuddle Fluff. Hurt/comfort

Warning: Soft Yandere, if you squint. OOC. English is my second language.

You wake up in the middle of the night.

Your heart is pounding, your breath is heavy, and your hair is wet with sweat.

A nightmare.

You rarely have them. And, to tell the truth, the previous nightmares you had wasn't so vivid. Funny enough, you can't tell, what the nightmare was about. But you are sure, that it was awful.

Maybe, you had too many emotional turmoils for the last couple of days.

First, apparently, BSD characters from your BSD Mayoi game were self-aware. And were self-aware for a long time, (since you finished watching anime and start reading manga/light novels). Few days ago they finally managed to break free and got into your world.

Second, the BSD gang are totally adoring you. Now, you have a bunch of new friends. And, in some cases, new relatives (you are pretty sure, Hirotsu and Melville have adopted you as their new grandchild).

Third, Fitzgerald is planning to buy a new home for you, the one, that can contain all of you. You tried to protect, but Fitzgerald won't listen.

"You are Our Guiding Light, it's the least we can do for you. And don't worry about the money, I have it covered." Fitzgerald grinned and look at you with soft eyes.

Forth, characters have heard you talking about them. About been good people, about treasuring them. You remember tears in Kunikida's eyes, when he told you, how your words help him find his strength again. You remember Atsushi's warm hug, when he thanked you for been sympathetic. There were many thanks and tears when they arrived.

You sit up on your bed. You were still shaking. You felt thirsty and decide to go to the kitchen and have a glass of water.

And, of course, Oda Sakunosuke and Dazai Osamu were sitting in the kitchen, having a conversation with hushed voices. They were wearing casual clothes, not their iconic cannon attire.

Most part of the BSD gang, currently, were back in the app. Yes, they were going back and forth, but didn't stay here to sleep. Because there is no way so many people will fit in your apartment. But, Fukuchi insisted, that, at least two of the characters will stay there, with you.

"Because, Little Guiding Light, you need protection. This world is also dangerous. It doesn't matter, if there are no abilities" Fukuchi chuckled and gently pet your head.

Characters changed every night. At first, you were guarded by Atsushi and Akutagawa, then - by Teruko and Tachihara. Today, Dazai and Oda were your guards.

Oda noticed your presence and smile at you. His smile was apologetic.

"Hey, [Y/N], did we wake you up?"

You shake your head and yawn.

"No. I had a nightmare. I will drink some water and go back to sleep."

Oda and Dazai looked concerned. Dazai rushes to your side and carefully led you to the table. Dazai force you to sit down, while Oda takes a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water. Dazai put his hands on your shoulders. Oda came closer with full glass in his arms.

Dazai rubs your shoulders: "A nightmare? Are you alright? What was it about?"

You take the glass from Oda, smile at him gratefully, and take a sip. Then you answered.

"I am fine, maybe a little shaken up. I can't tell, what the nightmare was about. I am sure it was something nasty, but I can't recall any details."

Dazai hums. You continue drinking water. Both Oda and Dazai are silent. The silence was comfortable. You finish your glass of water and put it in the sink. Oda finally spoke:

"Are you sure, you are alright?"

You thought for a moment. Actually, no. You weren't. You sighed:

"No. I am afraid to fall asleep again. I don't want to have nightmares again."

Dazai instantly jump to your side and, after giving you a side hug, proclaims: "Then Odasaku and I will protect you in your sleep!"

You looked at Dazai, puzzled. Oda also doesn't seem to understand, what Dazai want to do. Dazai looked at you. His brown eyes were soft and shined with care and tenderness.

"[Y/N], do you want to cuddle with Oda and I tonight?"

You are sure, that, if Dazai didn't hold you in his arms, you would fall. You. Cuddling with Dazai Osamu and Oda Sakunosuke. BSD Fans would eat you and your hat for that chance. And here you are, Dazai himself offers you to be in a middle of cuddle sandwich. You quickly glanced at Oda. He doesn't seem to be bothered by that idea. After Oda noticed your glance, he chuckled: "I am fine with this. [Y/N], you decide."

...

You also are fine with this idea.

"I would like to cuddle with you two tonight"

Dazai's grin became bigger. He almost crushed you in his embrace. Dazai start leading you to your bed. Oda was following after you two.

When you get in your room, Dazai, after removing his shoes, lay down on the far end of your bed and, after turning in your direction, patted the mattress next to him.

"Come here, Guiding Light, you will be warm and cozy.

You were as red as a tomato. You slowly lay down on your bed. Dazai after noticing that you won't scoot closer to him, let out a quiet laugh and hug you himself.

You feel his chest makes contact with your back. Dazai snakes an arm around your midsection. He squeezes you tightly against him and snickers:

"Oda, your turn"

The sheets rumble over your and Dazai's bodies, and your mattress sags gently as Oda climbs aboard it and cover the three of you with a blanket.

Oda scoots closer to Dazai and you. Your head was laying on his chest, he shakes an arm around your shoulders. Dazai buried his face in the back of your neck. You feel Oda's breath on your hair.

"[Y/N], don't worry. Relax, everything is alright"

You lengthen your limbs fully and release tension. You feel warm. You feel safe.

Oda and Dazai cuddle you closer. Oda kissed you on the forehead and Dazai kissed you on the cheek. They said in unison.

"Goodnight, [Y/N]"

You blush and whisper: "Good night, guys"

Soon all of you fell asleep. There were no more nightmares that night.

[sentienttoastah]

Trying out new art styles. Whale skeletons are very cool :) And of course it wouldn’t be complete without the usage of the colour green for no reason in particular (Spoilers: I think I like the colour green).

Thoughts on Moby Dick for today: A bit of the cetology chapters and a bit of Ishmael! Because… Whale.

We all know there’s copious amounts of whale anatomy lessons in Moby Dick, some of which are true and some are more outdated. This is usually the least favourite part of the book for many people, and understandably so. It can be annoying for those who only read for the story and probably even more annoying for people who are actually interested or knowledgeable on the modern topic of cetaceans (or marine biology in general I mean like Ishmael called a seal (or was it a walrus? I forgot) an amphibian I don’t think I have to elaborate).

But I’ve always thought the way Ishmael narrates the story, even though it’s through a book, is as if you were actually there sitting in front of him while he tells you the tale. Like listening to an actual sailor ramble about the ocean. Like a one-sided conversation, you could say. It just gives those vibes. That feeling of a naturally flowing conversation was actually what kept me really interested in the book because even though he barely talks about himself you can feel a kind of connection to Ishmael.

So if we were to treat it like him actually telling you all of this in one sitting on the spot I thought wouldn’t it make sense for him to want to avoid the worst parts of the story? So he drags it out before getting to the sad part. Or alternatively, the more logical explanation is the fact it’s a sailor telling a story about the sea to a land dweller so of course he would want to give them quick context notes. And especially considering the time this book was first published many people were unaware about even the basic facts of a whale.

Because among the many reasons Melville wrote Moby Dick was to educate people on the wonders of whales. And he succeeded! …Partially. He might not be the one we should give all of our credit to for the research of whales but at the very least he sparked a kind of curiosity in the common people back in the day. Sure it’s outdated but he tried his best and I think that’s very cool :) shout out to Herman Melville for that.

Oh oh wait! I just thought of something. We can also view it as Ishmael writing a personal diary instead of being an actual book to publish to many. That works well too, and gives him more reason to want to drag out the tale. He’s not just writing about their death and demise he’s writing about their lives to remember as well. A diary.

But on a different note, since I think that whole previous subject is already commonly thought about enough by Moby Dick readers;

Whale skeletons like I mentioned before are very cool too. But at the same time they kinda freak me out. Cause it looks like both a fish and a mammal at the same time. The skull especially reminds me of I think horses or other medium sized quadrupedal herbivores?? And the fingers are freaky too. The fingers are the freakiest. I’m sure if you showed them to someone who has never seen a whale skeleton they’d be very confused or scared. Maybe both.

But it really is curious to see the remnants of their land dwelling days through their bones!

[t0ast-ghost]

Here’s my thoughts on Star Trek V: The Final Frontier

There’s swear words, star trek, and spoilers oh my!

Start it up:

- “The planet of galactic peace.” Somehow. I don’t believe that.

- This guy on his horse looks like death

- “Let us explore it together.” Come take my hand. Let us take ibuprofen together.

- It’s hard to dislike Sybok when he smiles like that so they have to add in a somewhat evil laugh

- Epic music is a go (Music by Jerry Goldsmith)

- “‘You’ll be able to relax’ you call this relaxing? I’m a nervous wreck. If I’m not careful I’ll end up talking to myself.” Kirk convinced him to come here and now he has to watch his idiot husband climb a rock

- Kirk knows Spock and McCoy are there to catch him when he falls but goddamnit if they aren’t both really tired of his shit

- No but seriously what is with science fiction and thinking ���yeah there’s a race of cat people’ looking at you too doctor who

- Caithlin Dar is awesome already.. I don’t trust Talbot (edit: haha too bad they’re characters don’t really do anything anyway)

- Scotty narrating is my favourite actually

- UHURA IS AWESOME

- are Uhura and Scotty dating?

- “Admit it. We’re lost!” “All right, we’re lost. But we’re making good time.” Didn’t know I needed Sulu and Chekov to go hiking together but I do

- “Yes uh- yes, we’ve been caught in a blizzard.” *Chekov starts blowing into the microphone* god I love them. He just went with it!

- Bones ringing the triangle out of spite and love

- The husbands sitting down and eating beans. Why would they make star trek about literally anything else

- Coming back strong with the extra wh sound (it was in the last movie when McCoy said whales)

- The trivia panel is telling me that one of the goofs is Kirk calling Tennessee whiskey bourbon and it looks like something Spock would write

- McCoy laughing and talking about Spock’s Vulcan metabolism and Spock indulging by saying he’s also half human and McCoy responding with “well it certainly doesn’t show” to which he knows Spock’ll take as a compliment. Yes I do need old married mcspirk.

- “You know, you two could drive a man to drink.” Then Kirk with all the innocence and nonchalance in the world says, “me? What did I do?” “What did you do? You really piss me off, Jim.”

- McCoy is lecturing Kirk cause he can’t take anymore of his almost dying bullshit

- “I knew I wouldn’t die because the two of you were with me.” “I do not understand.” “I’ve always known I’ll die alone.” I’m about to cry because this is true. He dies in a distant future without either of them. Thinking about it they all somewhat die alone. Maybe Spock was there for McCoy but we never see his death. And Spock dies in an alternate past :(((

- “It’s a mystery to me what draws us together…Other people have families.” “Other people, Bones, not us.” They are each other’s family.

- SPOCK ROASTING A MARSHMALLOW (not sure why they call it a ‘marsh melon’)

- This is the silliest thing they could have possibly put in a movie (this is like a comfort fic but a movie and I am so here for it)

- “God, I liked him better before he died.” McCoy is getting nasty and Kirk is now like ‘well time to sleep’

- “Life is not a dream.” “Go to sleep, Spock.”

- Why is the head Klingons outfit so cunty. Why’re the Klingons so silly?

- They caught Spock in his jammies

- “Well gentlemen, it seems shore leave has been cancelled.” They can’t go on ONE DATE

- Why’re they huddled together on the ship like that?

- “‘All I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.’” “Melville.” “John Masefield.” “Are you sure about that?” “I am well versed in the classics, Doctor.” “Then how come you don’t know Row, Row, Row Your Boat?” Spock makes the most frowny and tired face imaginable. I think McCoy was justified in biting back there cause imagine you wake up, get in a shuttle, and then get corrected. All I’m saying is Spock was being a bit of a know it all (wouldn’t have him any other way)

- “*laughs* I don’t think I’ve ever seen him happier.” McCoy is so jolly in this one

- The yeoman with Kirk’s jacket is played by Shatner’s daughter

- HE ACTUALLY HAS A SHIRT THAT SAYS ‘go climb a rock.’ omg

- That fucking outfit oh my goodness

- “What’s the matter, Jim?” “I miss my old chair.” And then it switches to Spock who’s going :[

- Love how the Klingons all know who Kirk is. Like he’s THAT important

- Aww Kirk can’t write his diary :((

- Their silhouettes are so cute (34:06) (also they look like how aliens coming out of a spaceship look, I just think that’s neat)

- McCoy has to turn on the lights like, ‘stop sulking in the damn dark.’

- “Imagine that, a passionate Vulcan.” What McCoy? You want Spock to be more passionate?

- “This is Captain Pavel Chekov speaking.” He’s so silly for that. But also it’s probably best he doesn’t say ‘acting captain’ as that would arouse suspicion cause as everyone knows the captain is always the first to go on dangerous away missions

- What’s going on? Why is Uhura dancing ? What.

- What. Was. That. Scene. Why.

- “Spock.” “Yes, captain?” “Be one with the horse.” “Yes, captain.” Oookay

- “Hold your horse, captain.” Good one.

- Spock just. He just nerve pinched that horse.

- Spock does not know how to deal with seeing his estranged brother again (yeah I was spoiled) so, “you are under arrest for seventeen violations of the neutral zone treaty.” Is what he went with

- Sybok complimented and then winked at Kirk HE IS TAKEN

- “We’re going to forego the tractor beam and fly her in manually.” “Manually?” “How often have you done this?” “Actually it’s my first attempt.” Personally wouldn’t trust anyone else to attempt that other than Sulu. He is THAT bitch (/pos)

- EXPLOSION!!!!! CRASHHHH

- whooo space stuff! Sorry the photon torpedo just missing as the enterprise went into warp was cool

- Spock’s got a gun!

- McCoy comes out of the ship and is so confused and looks to Spock and Kirk

- Ohhh no. Sybok is gonna do his thingy magic thing to Sulu and Uhura with Scotty watching ‘em from above

- “What you have done is betray every man on this ship.” “Worse. I have betrayed you. I do not expect you to forgive me.” “Forgive you? I ought to knock you on your goddamn ass.” “If you think it would help.” “You want me to hold him, Jim?” “You stay out of this. Why, Spock? Why?” Lots to think about in this dialogue. But I think McCoy offering to hold Spock is him going ‘Jim you’re overreacting can’t you see he’s already remorseful?’ I could be misreading but if you understand it as the idea of McCoy holding him down is so redundant because Spock is strong enough to get out of his grasp easily but probably wouldn’t resist in this moment then it’s just like aughhhhhh

- Also Kirk asking Spock to shoot someone is bad enough. But the fact that it was his brother…

- Kirk is in disbelief. He didn’t know his own husband has a brother (half brother technically. Same Spock same.)

- “Stop it, Jim! Spock could no more kill his own brother than he could kill you. If you want to punish him for what he’s done, why don’t you throw him in the brig? Besides, we’ve got bigger problems to deal with.” Bones not only defending Spock, but also getting them back on track

- Apparently both Gene Roddenberry and William Shatner didn’t like that Sybok was Spock’s brother. Roddenberry didn’t think that Sarek would have a child with another woman (I kinda agree but also Pon Farr would’ve made him become engaged to a Vulcan before he met Amanda, so it’s not completely unthinkable). And Shatner didn’t like it cause it was too much like ‘a soap opera plot line’ but they went with it so that Spock’s actions made sense with the way he acted towards Sybok. I personally like that Spock has siblings he never told anyone about. It’s funny.

- lmao this time Kirk gets to stand on top of Spock to reach something (See patterns of force)

- Spock talking about himself in the third person because he doesn’t want to admit that he couldn’t get out of the brig

- “The bond between these three is strong, difficult to penetrate. This will be quite a challenge.” IT’S CAUSE THEY’RE MARRIED

- It’s funny that- canonically - Sybok can sense a really strong bond between them

- Kirk and McCoy’s ass I mean- oh look it’s Spock. With rocket boots!

- Spock holding onto Kirk and McCoy for their dear lives

- “I believe I overshot the mark by one level.” “Nobody’s perfect.” McCoy keeps saying this to Spock and I think it’s healing. Also flirting.

- They’re lit really nicely

- McCoy is NOT having this “Sounds like brainwashing to me.” You’re so right, back OFF Sybok

- (drawable moment 1:08:17)

- “Your pain is the deepest of all. I can feel it. Can’t you?” OH WAIT WE GET TO SEE MCCOYS PAIN WHAT

- I have no words for this scene. Holy Shit.

- Forced therapy

- Oh they all get to see each others pain cause they’re connected

- Spock gets to see his own birth… why. What.

- young Sarek 😧😳😳😳

- “So human.” YOU FUCKED THE HUMAN SAREK. God he’s such a bitch.

- SPOCK FOR THE WIN!! He’s not leaving

- MCCOYS STAYING WITH HIS HUSBANDS!!! YEAH LETS GOOO! (Personally I don’t think McCoy would go with Sybok at all, but I wasn’t sure what the writers were gonna do and I was scared they would make him leave)

- I know we’ve moved on from this but maybe Sarek saying that Spock was human was like saying ‘he’s got your eyes’ like comparing Spock to Amanda in appreciation. We’ll never know but it’s still a bitchass thing to say.

- Kirk has a plaque with ‘To boldly go where no man has gone before’ what a nerd

- They’re really hot in their uniforms

- hi god

- Kirk wants to ID god. Fair enough.

- There’s McCoy in the corner. Losing his religion

- “I doubt a God who inflicts pain for his own pleasure.” YEAH McCoy’s not standing for this shit

- Oh so Sybok wasn’t the enemy. Yeah that’s a good ending for his character. Saying bye to sock and asking for forgiveness

- “Beam up Spock and Dr. McCoy now.” “Now, just a damn minute-” Kirk said that so fast so that his husbands couldn’t argue with him

- “I am a foolish old man.” “Damn you, sir. You will try.” Spock ain’t fucking around. Also he picked up a couple of words from McCoy

- “I thought I was going to die.” “Not possible, you were never alone.” Throw me out an airlock I need some air

- SORRY the immediate moment after that was SO MUCH WORSE “Please, captain. Not in front of the Klingons.” THEY WERE ABOUT TO MAKE OUT SLOPPY

- “Cosmic thoughts, gentlemen?” “We were speculating. Is god really out there?” They were having a nice quiet conversation and it’s a shame they didn’t show it :(

- KIRK TALKING ABOUT SAM??? Oh no he was implying it was Spock

- this ending- I’m not okay.

Unfortunately I really enjoyed this one. William Shatner made a movie that was so shippy and was oblivious to it the entire time.

I know it took a really long time for me to post this one because I wanted to watch undiscovered country first, I haven’t watched it yet but I felt I needed to finally edit and post this one. I hope you enjoyed my silly little thoughts.

Star trekking across the universe. Get that stuck in your head.

Masterpost

[wildflower-otome]

[Translation] Cupid Parasite -Sweet & Spicy Darling- ~ Allan Melville After Story

Source: S&S Wedding Note - His and my Wedding Note (Otomate Sweet Box Bonus Booklet)

Allan Melville - Sweet & Spicy End After Story - First-time Sick Nursing

Note: Major spoilers for Allan's Sweet & Spicy End below.

After seeing the children off as they got onto the bus to go to summer camp, Lynette and I returned to the house.

My wife, and our precious children. Some years had passed since we had become a family of four. The children were growing up well, free to study and run around and play, watched over by the familiar I had created from low-level demons. And now this year they were off on summer camp for the holidays.

From today, she and I would be on our own for a week. So that we could spend it together, I had finished up my work in the demon realm and wrestled a week’s vacation for myself.

Truth be told, I had been looking forward to spending time with just the two of us for the first time in a while. Of course, the time we spent together as four was precious to me. Still, this was a different kind of happiness.

‘.....Hey, Lynette. It’s been a while, why don’t we go a date?’

When I asked her, her face lit up and she nodded.

‘Yeah, of course! Where shall we go?’

She affectionately wrapped her arm around mine. It made me happy seeing her smile like a young girl, and I nodded.

‘Let’s see. There’s a new café I’d been wanting to go to recently-’

Even the time we spent together talking about where we would go was dear. Warm and happy days were within my arms.

It happened on just such a day we were spending together, just the two of us.

‘Ah-‘

When I turned around at hearing the sound of something breaking, I saw her standing, motionless with shock. At her feet was a broken mug cup. A pink mug cup with a picture of a lobster on it.

‘What should I do! I’ve broken it-‘

Flustered, she reached her hand out to the fragments of the mug cup on the floor. Seeing her so unheeding, I ran over to her in a panic.

‘What on earth are you doing!’

Angrily, I grabbed her hand. Because if I didn’t, it looked as if she were about to take hold of the glass fragments with her bare hands.

Even then, looking as if she hadn’t given up on it, she gazed at the broken mug cup. 

‘But, this mug cup was a precious-‘

‘It doesn’t matter!’

The shattered mug cup would never go back to the way it was.

Rather than worrying about such a thing, it was more important to me that she not hurt herself touching the fragments.

Moving her away so that she wouldn’t injure herself, I cleaned up the broken mug.

As I looked up after having finished checking that there were no more pieces on the floor, I drew in a breath.

Because she was crying.

‘Lynette-‘

Seeing the tears running down her cheeks, I winced. Because I’d been in such a panic, I might have spoken more harshly than I had intended.

‘I’m sorry for getting angry with you..... I’ll buy you a new one as soon as I can.’

When I apologized, she started as if coming back to herself, putting her hands to her cheeks as if only then realizing she had been crying, and then hurriedly wiped away the tears.

‘No, it’s fine. I was the one at fault..... Sorry, Allan. Thank you.’

Shaking her head, Lynette tried to smile. However, she still looked sad, and it was clear that she was still feeling down.

I quickly went to buy her a new mug cup, but the melancholy on her face remained.

‘Thank you, Allan.....’

She was doing her best to smile. But it was plain to me that she was in a despondent mood, and I was hit with a wave of self-loathing. 

If only I had worded it better, if only I hadn’t yelled so loudly, I was beset with regret. But it was already too late. It was an unchangeable truth that I had made her cry.

(Why couldn’t I have chosen my words more carefully.....)

What on earth are you doing, I shouldn’t have said that. Despite having become Satan, moments like these truly made me realise how much I lacked in composure. 

After that, she seemed somehow sad. She did her best to act cheerful, but the more she did the more obvious her depressed mood was. 

Which was why I then no longer knew what to do. Somehow getting the feeling that trying to cheer her up wasn’t quite the right thing to be doing in this situation, I simply stayed close by her.

‘Well then, good night, Allan,’

‘Yeah. .....Good night.’

We both got into the same bed, and I held her. Even though she was there in my arms, I couldn't help hating myself for not being able to protect her heart.

When I woke the next morning, my head felt terribly heavy.

(Something’s off.....)

Perhaps because I had spent too much time worrying. Still bewildered at a sensation I’d never experienced before, when I tried to get up, I realized that felt exhausting too.

I didn’t want to get out of bed. It was the first time I had ever felt that way. As I wondered why, my thoughts feeling sluggish, I heard hurried footsteps.

 ‘Allan, are you alright!?’

Lynette was looking at me, seeming as if she were about to cry.

‘I’m fine, what’s wrong-‘

‘Because, no matter how many times I called you, you didn’t get up, and you seem feverish.....’

‘Huh? Feverish.....?’

She laid a hand on my forehead while I remained surprised. The chilly feel of her hand felt so good that I groaned. We never normally needed to measure our temperatures, so even if we were to try it was doubtful whether we could tell whether it was normal or not, but somehow or other I had a feeling mine was at a level that could be called a fever.

‘A fever, is it..... You’re right. I really might have one....’

‘Not “might”! It’s clearly much higher than mine.....What should I do,  what kind of times would a demon normally come down with a fever?’

She was genuinely in a panic.  Which was why I smiled, in order to calm her down.

‘I’m fine. A fever is nothing to a demon.’

‘But neither of us have ever had a fever in hundreds of years....’

To be sure, it was as she said. Until now, I had never before had a fever.

Still, the reason I was laid up in bed today in particular, was most likely because of what had happened yesterday.

For the first time, she and I had had a fight (?). I had shouted at her and made her cry.

It would appear I had come down with something like a psychogenic fever, out of shock from what had happened.

(I give up.....)

I almost sighed at the fragility of my own mental state. But the memories in my mind really had been that gloomy. Becoming feverish was only to be expected. Striving with all my might to keep my heavy eyelids open, I looked at her.

‘I’m fine. I’ll probably get better once I’ve slept. Don’t let it worry you.’

I smiled, but Lynette still looked as if she were about to cry. Holding tightly to my hand, she put both hands together as if in prayer.

 ‘Is there anything I can do? Do you need my energy?’

‘No.....I’ll be alright, I think. It’s really no big deal.’

No matter what I said, she was still worrying. Once she realised she wouldn’t be able to obtain the knowledge from me, she looked up how to treat a fever on her smartphone. 

‘Ah, I see now! For a fever, you need a towel soaked in icy water. Wait a moment, Allan. I’ll go bring you one right away!’

She returned only a few minutes later.

Along with an ice pillow, she had brought a wash basin full of ice, a towel and an energy drink. Lining up all the kinds of things one would bring for treating a fever at my bedside, she carefully set to taking care of me.

Once she put the cold towel on my forehead, I started to feel a little bit better. 

‘Take your time and rest. I’ll be right here.’

Lynette didn’t let go of my hand. As if praying she could share her strength from the palm of her hand as it held mine, she looked at me. 

There was no trace left of yesterday’s despondent mood on her face. But it still remained vivid in my mind. The way she had looked when she had cried.

‘.....Hey, Lynette.’

When I called her name, she peered earnestly at my face, seeming worried.

‘What is it? Are you thirsty?’

‘No, I’m fine, but.....about yesterday.....I’m sorry.’

‘..........Yesterday?’

She tilted her head, not seeming to know what I was talking about.�� It would appear she had no idea what I meant. However, unable to forget, I did my best to find the words with a mind hazy with fever and opened my mouth to speak.

‘Yesterday..... I shouted at you, didn’t I? I regret it. I should have said it differently..... .....I’m sorry for making you cry.’

‘I’m sorry too. You even went out right away to buy me another one.....’

‘No. You’ve got nothing to apologise for. .....I’m sorry I made you cry. I’m sorry for speaking so harshly and hurting you.....’

I was aware that my mind wasn’t working as well as it normally did because of the fever. As I continued to apologize, my thoughts still disordered, Lynette shook her head.

‘That’s not true. You weren’t harsh, Allan. You didn’t hurt me at all.’

‘But.....I made you cry.’

‘That wasn’t it. It wasn’t your fault. I got shocked all on my own and ended up crying, that’s all.’

So speaking, Lynette explained. That it had been a shock to her that she had been the one to break the mug cup she had so treasured. And after that, because I’d said “It doesn’t matter”, she had cried because she had thought it was only her who had thought of the mug cup as special-.

‘I’m sorry. Even though I knew it was only because you didn’t want me to get hurt, Allan.’

‘No. .....I’m sorry too. Those were mug cups we bought to remember our trip to D’amour Paradis, of course it mattered.....’

I should have known exactly what kind of item the broken cup was. But because I had been so flustered, afraid that she would get hurt, I’d misspoken.

‘.....So you did remember.’

Lynette gave a happy smile. I stretched out a hand toward her cheek.

‘Of course I remember. The places I’ve been with you.....the memories we made together, I remember all of them.’

‘Yeah. That’s right. .....That’s just like you, Allan.’

She lovingly squeezed my hand. Seeing her look relieved, I relaxed as well.

(I see..... So that’s why she was crying.)

I thought that I had known everything about her, but I had been mistaken. No, it had likely been that very conceit that had caused us to be at odds. I felt pathetic for not realising what had made her so sad, but even so was happy that she had smiled again.

The memories that were precious to me were also precious to her. That was why— we had ended up in a fight. No. I wasn’t sure whether it was at the level that could be called a fight. 

But it was because we both loved each other that she had cried, and I had come down with a fever.

(I really am hopeless. I can’t act cool at all.....)

I had a feeling that no matter how many hundreds of years went by, I would end up with a fever each time she became sad like this.

Because she existed at a fundamental part of my heart. Even the condition of my body was at the mercy of her every move.  And that made me happy.

‘Let’s make more memories together. And....let’s buy matching mug cups again.’

‘Yeah! I’ll be looking forward to it.’

Making a promise, the two of us smiled at each other. Seeing her smile, and now knowing the reason she had cried, my body that had felt so terribly heavy just earlier now felt lighter.

No, what had become lighter was my heart. Still, that was enough to make my body feel lighter too.

And as it did, suddenly wanting her affection, I grabbed her hand and pulled her into bed.

‘Wah- Allan? You need to rest….’

‘I know. But it seems like my fever’s gone down.’

Look, I said, as I took her hand and guided it to my forehead. Once I had confirmed that she had murmured, ‘You’re right,’ I stole away her lips.

‘Although, my body does still feel sluggish. Give me some of your power.’

‘Wait, just now, it felt like I was the one who—’

‘Just being with you like this gives me strength.’

The moment I stretched myself out over her, the towel that had been on my forehead fell away. The now lukewarm towel had taken away both my fever and my worries. Which was why my body was already completely fine.

As I continued to touch her as we kissed, her voice gradually began to sound needy. She playfully sucked at my tongue, but even then, her gaze occasionally met mine as if concerned. 

You were supposed to still be letting me take care of you, is what her eyes seemed to say.

So I pressed my forehead against hers, in order to show her that I was better now.

Right now, our bodies were at the same temperature. Still unsure whether it was because my fever had gone down, or she had been worked up into one, I slipped my hands into her clothes.

In the heat underneath the blanket, only our breaths could be heard. The creaking sound of the bed and the voices that escaped us mixed.

Even though it should be just the two of us in the house today, we sought each other out beneath the blanket as if we were hiding. Our muffled voices fell into the silence of the house.

Without words, we indulged ourselves in each other as if in a delirium. Kissing, exchanging sighs, we held tight to one another as we tangled together.

Once we were done, it was as if she had come down with a fever too. Cheeks bright red and breathing heavily, she looked at me.

‘Allan….. I’m glad, that you’re feeling better….’

Looking satisfied, she was smiling. After having put so much effort into looking after me, she was happy that I had recovered. Moved by a feeling of tenderness, I hugged her. The heat from our bare skin as we touched blended together.

‘Thank you. It was because you looked after me that I got better. So…..give me more of you.’

As I spoke, I kissed her to give her my power, and began again once more.

At our vigorous movements, the blanket that had been covering us slipped down.

Until the ice in the basin on the bedside table had completely melted, the two of us continued to make love.

[adioringhamzah]

wrong address

hamzah × y/n fic (very little fluff)

when y/n is locked out of her friend's building, a friendly stranger helps her, and they might be going to the same place

you hadn't dated in a long time, actually you never even really had a boyfriend. a few talking stages at most but you wouldn't even call them that. you were starting to feel lonely, almost 21, but still nothing. thankfully, you could always count on your bestfriend mandy. you hadn't seen her in a while, she had moved out of her old apartment not long ago but you were both so busy that you hadn't found the time to meet up in her new home, until today!

you were walking towards the building where mandy lived, thinking about how jealous you were of her and her boyfriend's relationship. you knew it wasn't right, but you were almost annoyed by how perfect martin and her were, both so pretty, so funny, and most of all, so in love. you told her you didn't need any man, but deep down, it was all you craved.

you snapped from your thoughts when you finally arrived in front of the building. you tried to open the door, but you quickly realized that you needed a code. you called mandy, but there was absolutely no cell reception, and you started to worry. it was already getting dark, and mandy was supposed to drive you back, so you didn't really want to go home by yourself now. you waited a little, hoping someone would leave or enter the apartment, and thankfully, you saw a blinding light, from someone parking their car. the car's door opened, and you were shocked by what you saw.

the most beautiful man you had probably ever seen. he had dark curls, eyes so dark that they looked like boba and the cutest playboy carti cat sweatshirt. you were smiling to yourself when he came in front of you. he looked at you a little confused by how desperate you probably looked.

"do you want to get in orr?" "yes yes!" you basically screamed, "i've been waiting forever actually", he looked at you almost scared, like you were some psycho stalker waiting for him to come home so you quickly tried to lighten things up, "please dont think im a robber though, i just want to get to my friend's appartement but i forgot the code" you started rambling and he cut you short, looking you up and down with a shy smirk "dont worry you're too pretty to get mixed up with a robber", you started blushing and thanking him awkwardly, flattered but a little confused at a total stranger complimenting you.

you patiently waited for him to open the door but all he did was stare into your eyes, not that that bothered you, -you could look into his dark eyes all day- but you were starting to get a little cold. your denim mini skirt and brandy melville tank top really weren't doing anything to keep you warm.

he noticed you slightly shaking and finally opened up the door, letting you enter first. you then took the elevator, surprisingly both going to the same floor. he talked about having to go to a party but being late, and you thought to yourself that mandy was probably waiting for you at this very instant. the elevator dinged, and you got out first, making your way to mandy's door. you made sure it was the right one by looking at your texts and were about to ring the bell when the gorgeous man from before approached you, looking almost concerned for you. you started getting scared.

"what if he's some psycho who goes on murdering women??". by the look on his face you realized you said that part out loud and he started laughing, not really helping you relax. "girll dont even, this is literally my apartment." you looked at him, absolutely stunned, and started looking through your texts to show him the address, "is your friend's name hamzah?" he asked, amused.

you shook your head, not knowing whoever that was. "then you're not at the right door.. im hamzah!", you basically ignored his statement and showed him the messages, he agreed that this was indeed his address. "waitt is your friend mandy?? it's so like her to mess up her address", he said in a sarcastic obnoxious tone. "omg yes! how did you know?", he smirked, probably happy that he was right and not just making a fool out of himself, "she used to live here with martin, but they moved out not long ago, and now i'm the one renting it, she probably just got them mixed up, " he explained.

"ohhh, im genuinely so sorry, hamzah, i didn't want to seem like a stalker y'know" you chuckled awkwardly, and he laughed a little. you both stood still looking at each other awkwardly, not really knowing what to do now, thankfully he interrupted your thoughts "so anyway, you know my name, what's yours gorgeous?", you blushed, thinking that this was already the second time that this man that looked like a literal model was complimenting you, "it's y/n, and you're not so bad yourself", you both chuckled a little before realising you had been standing in front of the door for like 10 minutes.

hamzah invited you to come in, and you faked not wanting to, but after a little persuasion, you accepted. it was't like you to enter in a stranger's house but you already felt somehow close to him since you had mutual friends. he invited you in and told you to sit on his couch. his home was a big loft, there was a distinct cologne smell to the place that had a minimalistic but thoughtful look.

you sat next to him awkwardly, and you soon realized that you were both invited to mandy's and were both like 1h late already. you mutually agreed that you were already too late and sent her a text apologising. you talked some more, it was weird, he was a total stranger but you felt so close to him. you loved his bleu de chanel scent and the way he was so passionate about his work and his friends.

when you thought he couldn't get more perfect, you saw two ginger cats coming next to you. "hope u're not allergic! this is red and blue." he introduced them with a huge smile on his face. he lifted them both in his thick arms, and you took a moment to contemplate him, you were basically in awe of him, and he seemed to like you too.

it was getting late and you started yawning, "wow i didnt how I was this boring.." he rolled his eyes playfully, and you both laughed. meanwhile, red and blue had found sleep on your tights. you told hamzah you would like to go home and he quickly proposed to drive you, which you agreed to. he got up but you were still sitting a little awkwardly, not wanting to disturb the kittens. thankfully, hamzah took them both from your tights. you felt a sense of intimacy, his warm hands touching you while he was struggling to pick them up.

he felt it too and swiftly took you by the hips. you were a little surprised by his boldness but also very content and started playing with his hair, he approached you more and more, both of you being almost face to face.

you could feel the tension growing. he grabbed your face and looked you in the eyes as if he wanted to make sure he could kiss you.

you nodded, and he placed his soft lips on yours, while his hands were gently holding your face.

mwah💋

[asher-agere]

BSD agere headcanons (Part 3)

I’m back now with part 3 of my BSD agere headcanons! I’m on such a roll! Part 3 is as promised… The Guild! I struggled with some of these since I don’t understand all their characters the best, but I still did my best! And I hope you’re able to enjoy my thoughts!

⭒༺♰༻⭒Guild⭒༺♰༻⭒

Fitzgerald is definitely a caregiver. He loves getting to spend his money on his little! He’ll buy them everything they could ever possibly want and then some. Outfits, pacifiers, toys, teethers, cute dishes. Literally anything and everything. He’s also super fun to play with! If his little one is playing pretend sometimes he’ll get confused, a little lost in the story, but he’ll pretend he knows what’s going on! He loves being in a father role. If his little one calls him any kind of father like nickname he might start crying, but they’re happy tears!

Melville is also a caregiver I feel. He’d like to tell his baby plenty of stories and he’d have the Moby Dick fly around them in its tiny form! He loves making everything ocean themed. Ocean themed pacifiers, sippy cups, stuffed animals, onesies. All of it! He’ll play ocean noises in the background, perhaps even some sailor tunes quietly! He likes to rock his little one a lot. He’ll even invest in a rocking chair for that purpose. He encourages drawing over coloring! He wants to fuel their creativity!

Louisa is definitely a regressor. She’s just a little baby! I mean look at her. I think she’d regress from like 1-3. She’s always very nervous! She gets scared and cries easily. Almost always non-verbal and wants a pacifier. Most of the time she regresses involuntarily and just wants to be held, but if her caregiver calms her down enough she does like to color! She loves having stories read to her. Also loves picnics! If her or her caregiver have a garden that’s where she wants to be! Blocked off from the big scary world, but still outside! A perfect balance

Poe I can see either way. As a little he’d regress pretty tiny, 1-4. He likes listening to classical music in the background while his caregiver reads him a story. Maybe he’ll look out a window and color. He loves playing with Karl! Makes the baby giggle so much. As a caregiver he’d spoil his little one rotten in every possible way. He’d buy them so much stuff, and shower them in praise and affection. He’ll even teach himself new stuff just for his baby! If his little one has long hair he’ll learn how to style it, he’d be willing to learn how to sew clothes, he’ll also write them bedtime stories! Sometimes even interactive ones using his ability

Lovecraft I can see as a regressor! He’d regress to a toddler age I think, like 4-7. But he’d be completely non-verbal. He’s perfectly capable of talking, he just won’t. He doesn’t cry either, he’s not the most expressive. He will laugh though! He likes collecting “weird” stuffed animals. Fantasy creatures mainly, things that aren’t usually considered normal. I think at first he wouldn’t understand he’s regressing, he’d need someone to explain it to him. He’d try being independent, if he can he should right? He’d need a caregiver that would step in saying things like “Let me do that for you little one”

I think Steinbeck would be a caregiver! He loved his family, a little one is just an addition to that! He loves making them little bowls of fruit for snacks, especially grapes of course. He’d like taking his little one to his farm and showing them around, letting them help in the tiny ways they can. He’d also do matching outfits! They could match overalls and he’d buy them a hat! If it falls off that’s ok, he’ll pick it up and hold onto it for them. I think he’d be pretty good at reading stories too! He’d try to do a bunch of funny accents, and usually not do great- Which would make his baby laugh!

Lucy is definitely a regressor! Poor baby girl just wants friends. I think she’d regress from like 2-5. If she’s in a younger headspace she struggles to talk, but she’ll still happily babble! In a bigger headspace she can be sassy, better watch out with this one! She LOVES stuffed animals. She wants to fill Anne’s room with them, she’ll mainly regress in Anne’s room because she feels safe in there and it’s easy to access. She loves stories! If her caregiver is reading her a story she’ll constantly interrupt with her own ideas! Sometimes that just means baby babbles, but her caregiver is still expected to listen!

I think I see Margaret as a caregiver? She’s been shown to have a caring and protective side. I think her little would grow very attached to her voice due to how defined her accent is making her voice stand out. Therefore stories and lullabies become consistent. I think she’d make light use of her ability to have things fly around to entertain her little, being careful of course nothing truly weathers away. She’d love dressing up her baby! Lots of pretty outfits. She’d also like being outside with her little one! She likes feeling the wind

Mark would be a little! He’s more in the toddler age range, 3-7. He loves going exploring on adventures! He always makes Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer play with him too! He can be a fussy baby though. He doesn’t want to take a bath! Or stop to eat! Isn’t it obvious he’s having so much fun playing? But with a lottt of praise he’ll be willing! He always wants to feel like he made the choice though, never wants to be ordered around. Being ordered around isn’t very adventurous. Bath time can also be made more fun with bath toys! He just wants all the toys to play with

I definitely see Hawthorne as more of a caregiver. He’d be very doting, setting up a bedtime and all of that stuff! He’ll make home cooked meals and set up a cozy atmosphere with some candles and maybe even a fire in the fireplace while he watches a movie with his little one! He’d like rocking his little one to sleep while he reads them a bedtime story. He doesn’t buy anything excessively, he’s very responsible, however he always makes sure he has enough of everything. At least 3 of everything, always has rewards hidden away to reward good behavior, anything he could possibly need!

I hope you enjoyed my thoughts on these characters! I had fun examining the characters to understand them well enough to write this! Next up will be the Decay of Angels in honor of my Nikolai cosplay I finished for a Comic Con the other day!

[neil-neil-orange-peel]

I love reading your asks, so I wanted to ask you if you had any favorite female characters from Rik and Ade projects?

Helloooo! Thank you, that's so sweet. ❤️ Let's see... I'm going to single out some TYO characters specifically and then talk more generally. This post is absolutely going to become a big, incoherent mess. 😂

Sue from Sociology is my favourite minor TYO character. Don't get me wrong, I love Helen the Murderess too, but there's something that draws me to Sue. To be fair, I'm just seriously weak for Jennifer Saunders in general, and she's basically done up as a female Rick here, if Rick was actually cool. I like inserting her into fanfic sometimes (okay, once... but I have plans). She's very much a background character for the majority of Interesting, but Interesting itself is one of the first (and only, possibly the only?) time there are lots of women in a TYO scene at once, even if they're not getting to do much. Shout out to Dawn's Christian who gets crushed by the gigantic sandwich too, of course! (As an aside, I find it funny that both Jennifer and Dawn got to strangle/smother Mike on the sofa on different occasions.)

Vyvyan's mum. Pauline Melville pops up a couple of other times in TYO as well, and she's just very good whenever she does. I believe she gave French & Saunders a bit of guidance when they were all on the standup circuit. Vyv's mum is a great character because she's just SO awful. Let female characters be awful! She's so spiky and sharp in every way, and she's probably the only semi-developed female character who appears on the show. I think letting the audience meet her gives Vyvyan a bit of texture and depth - sure, we could imagine any family background for any of them, but we're being told THIS HERE is Vyvyan's. Poor Vyv. Pauline Melville herself, of course, is a prize-winning writer now! The dream.

The devil and her condemned soul is one of my favourite TYO cutaway segments. The condemned soul is Helen Atkinson-Wood, who is most well-known for playing Mrs Miggins in Blackadder the Third. She also has a small role in the Comic Strip episode Consuela (and possibly others, but I looked up the cast list to that one yonks ago because it's my favourite). I wonder if Lise wrote this sketch, considering the subject matter. Either way, Dawn and Helen's delivery is great, especially the faux discrete way Dawn says "period pains". I hope it put stuffy men's heckles up.

Aside from TYO, Jen and Dawn were often the only female presence in the Comic Strip episodes, particularly the earlier ones. Of the first two series, Dawn wrote Summer School and Jen wrote Slags - neither were standout episodes of their series, the kind often recalled today, but with Slags especially, the female characters within them were given more agency and stake in the plot than usual. Jen played five different characters in Happy Families in 1985 - a little gem written by Ben and also starring Ade.

I'd like to give a little shout out to Helen Lederer, who popped up a lot in Rik and Ade's - and French & Saunders' - comic output, while never really being given her own opportunity to shine on TV. Oh, and I'd also like to give a shout out to Marsha Fitzalan, who played Sarah B'Stard in The New Statesman - she did such a good job of playing an intensely flawed, funny female character. There are countless male characters who are basically terrible people - I mean, Alan B'Stard for one - and it's vital women are also allowed to be that awful in comedy.

Comedy has always been a pretty male sphere. Even these days, there are definitely still men Ricky Gervais who believe women can't be funny. Misogyny is still massively prevalent in society. Male comics attract female attention; female comics attract male abuse. That's a simplification and generalisation, of course, but it's broadly true. And I don't see younger generations of men getting better with this, to be honest. Actually, I see them getting worse (thanks, Andrew Tate). Sorry to be all doom and gloom!

When Rik and Ade started out in comedy, women getting to play characters other than wives or the like - that is, straight characters and caricatures there largely for the male characters to bounce off of for their laughs - was still uncommon. Despite the existence of successful female comics across the pond like Lucille Ball, and beloved 1970s sitcom The Good Life having a main cast split evenly gender-wise (I know Richard Briers technically had first credit, but Penelope Keith as Margo Leadbetter was absolutely the funniest of the four of them), there was a genuine belief that women couldn't (and maybe shouldn't) be doing comedy.

Women like Victoria Wood were pushing boundaries in important ways around the time of the alternative comedy boom by writing specifically about women (and, quite often, northern women - which I personally think is important, since Last of the Summer Wine had such a chokehold on portraying almost all of its female characters as ostensibly the same). Her sitcom dinnerladies was both melancholic and hilarious. Her sketch shows and other comic output, quite often featuring Julie Walters (her friend and muse), Celia Imrie, and many others, were all written entirely by her. She was also a gifted pianist and wrote several comic songs.

All of this is to say, Victoria Wood definitely helped pave the way for French & Saunders. She even referred to herself as an alternative comedian in her material. But honestly, I don't think it was until much later that women stopped being regularly restricted to straight roles in comedies created by men (which, of course, most comedies were). This was part of why Absolutely Fabulous, written by Jen, was such a breath of fresh air in the 1990s. For once, every single major character was a woman - men were the scarcity! And Jen has mentioned before that producers would constantly pressure her to write more roles for men. Meanwhile, we can observe that Girls on Top (dubbed the female TYO, which is... sort of true and sort of not), which Dawn and Jen starred in with Ruby Wax and Tracey Ullman in the 1980s, isn't very well-known today. I'm not 100% sure how well it was received at the time, but clearly it wasn't as popular as TYO had been before it. Ruby Wax and Tracey Ullman have both also had successful careers in comedy, but I'd argue that's mainly thanks (particularly in Tracy's case) to opportunities in America.

So I'm not saying women never got to be the funny (also I'm just talking about the UK), but the fact is: if your comedy has a completely/majority male cast, with women only popping up in supporting roles or in guest appearances, it's obvious which characters are going to be better developed, more beloved, and just funnier. I mean, even the Vicar of Dibley, which was obviously written for Dawn and showcases her comic prowess, features a supporting cast of funny men (there was also Emma Chambers as Alice and Liz Smith as Leticia - before she was killed off - but the women were outnumbered by the men). I get that this perhaps fits with the idea of a tiny, slightly backwards village in Oxfordshire - and the fact Geraldine was a female vicar shocking these men was very important to the premise - but still.

We know certain men just REALLY struggle at writing women, too, so they've either done a really bad job or just avoided trying altogether. I do have an example for this, but I don't want to name them since I do love the show they created - it's just, y'know, writing women is definitely not their strong suit! And I'm really not trying to poo poo any shows here by pointing this out. I'm just making observations. All of these comedies I'm referencing here are very old now.

So! To get back to where I started with this!

I love that Lise Mayer was one of the writers of The Young Ones. In some ways, the fact one of the writers was a woman feels pretty incredible for 1982. At the same time, though, it's not surprising that she's often the forgotten one when people talk about who wrote TYO.

Rik and Ade were/are feminists, and it obviously wasn't their fault as individuals that comedy was so male - comedy was also restrictive in other ways before them. In terms of social class and political attitudes, they were definitely something refreshing and new. That said, it wouldn't be until later, with people like Caroline Aherne (who really changed the fundamentals of the sitcom genre with The Royle Family), that working class voices who weren't fucking Bernard Manning actually got some notice in comedy. And I've not even mentioned race in this ramble. If comedy was male, it was even more pale. There were comedies starring black and Asian comics in the 1980s and 1990s that started to break through - The Lenny Henry Show, Chef!, Desmond's, The Real McCoy, Goodness Gracious Me - but there's no denying BAME people, BAME women especially, have had to struggle a lot for a voice in comedy. Comedy is more diverse today than it was 40 years ago. There has been progress. But it's absolutely still male dominated, and still very white, at the top.

Rik was pegged as the golden boy of the alternative comedy movement, and he was and is undoubtedly remembered for so many different comedies. But in terms of pure success and fame? Actually, I think Dawn and Jen have been the standouts of their cohort. I don't think anyone would've predicted this 40 odd years ago - I mean, Christ, Rik had to speak up just to ensure they got equal pay at The Comic Strip. The boys were given their chance to shine first, there's no doubt about that. But it was Dawn and Jen who were the subjects of a BBC documentary last Christmas.

...Maybe there is hope for funny women, after all.

[annebrontesrequiem]

Not to talk out of my ass about a classic I know nothing about and am reading for the first time but...

Methinks Moby Dick is going to be read through a queer lens because like... like...

"He seemed to take to me quite as naturally and unbiddenly as I to him; and when our smoke was over, he pressed his forehead against mine, clasped me round the waist, and said that henceforth we were married, meaning, his country's phrase, that we were bosom friends; he would gladly die for me, if need should be."

"Thus, then, in our hearts' honeymoon, lay I and Queequeg - a cosy, loving pair."

"We had lain thus in bed, chatting and napping at short intervals, and Queequeg now and then throwing his brown tattooed legs over mine"

In all seriousness I'm delighted by the way that Melville has, so far, painted a surprisingly humane, compassionate picture of Queequeg. And that, though I don't know enough about Melville's personal feelings, this passage (among others) points pretty handily to the message he seems to be driving towards:

"Do you suppose now, Ishmael, that the magnanimous God of heaven and earth - pagans and all included - can possible be jealous of an insignificant bit of black wood? Impossible! But what is worship? - to do the will of God - that is worship. And what is the will of God? - to do to my fellow man what I would have my fellow man to do to me - that is the will of God. Now, Queequeg is my fellow man. And what do I wish that this Queequeg would do to me? Why, unite with me in my particular Presbyterian form of worship. Consequently, I must then unite with him in his"

I know, long quote, but the entirety was needed and this is thankfully not an academic paper. This, combined with when Ishmael goes to the mariner's church and hears the sermon about Jonah, all speaks to the way that the sea unites men. And anonymizes them in ways that they become united, regardless of different in life. Thus Ishmael's feelings upon seeing the marbled plaques upon which are written tributes to those who died at sea. As well as Melville's later musings on the soul vs the body and how the body does not matter compared to the soul.

Understanding all this we can see Melville making Ishmael and Queequeg kindred spirits despite their differences the ultimate proof of this creed.

However in all seriousness as well, there is just something so delightfully homoromantic (is that a word? Also homoerotic too) about Ishmael and Queequeg's relationship. And, in some ways, were they in love that would further Melville's perceived message in my eyes. So, in conclusion, they're gay your honor.

[focsle]

hello! i have a question: what draws you to whaling and that specific era of time in history? how long has it been an interest of yours?

Oh a much too big question for me to answer adequately in one ask. I’ve written tens of thousands of words on this history and the specific points of it that draw me. I’m pouring years of my life into a 400+ page comic about it. Catch me at 3am talking about reincarnation and how much I feel this all caught up in my soul-stuff. This will not be an answer that fully does my feelings justice. But I’ll link to some of my writings in this response that maybe do that better.

I’ve been deeply researching this history for over a decade, but I’ve always had a nautical bent to my childhood that probably sparked it. My grandfather was a Navy man. His house was covered in weird pirate sculptures and little creatures and art pieces he made out of shells and I think I inherited my sense of aesthetics from him. My mum was drawn to sea stories and things of that nature that was probably passed on to me in some way. Like most kids that sea bent manifested in an early interest in pirates, (tho the brief moby dick section of The Pagemaster was formative…it’s funny, I didn’t read Moby Dick until several years into my deeper dive into this history and then I was like ‘ohhhh….melville gets it). Learning about the Globe mutiny many years ago was a big spark to diving more specifically into said history. I first read a book about it where the writer’s (what I now consider, wobbly) thesis was that it was something about the industry itself that generated something within the perpetrator to choose a whaleship for premeditated slaughter, and the story was so rattling to me that I wanted to know what it was about that world that drove someone to something like that.

But instead I found a world that had so much humanity in it. It was one with a unique and isolated society that was unlike any other social sphere. Years on a ship that was a floating home, a floating factory, that had a relationship to the sea in a way that even other maritime trades did not. Fishing had/has some similarities, but not for the same isolating length or uniquely horrific and gruesome labor that whaling voyages held. The merchant trade had briefer voyages on more expected and well-trod routes. Even piracy followed the shipping lines of humanity more than anything else. With whaling your only destination was the sea, in a longer reach as the whaling grounds depleted and the industry stretched on to bring people to further and lonelier places. Where men would briefly touch land maybe every six months, and have liberty in port maybe even fewer times than that. That they were to go out there, and they weren’t to come back until they got enough oil to make the voyage worth it. It was an industry that drew men of so many different backgrounds and motivations, but the common thread tended to be that they were all very young, and that many of them were trying to find something in themselves or for themselves. An industry full of contradictions that I feel is most poetically expressed in scrimshaw, and one of the few places to see a preserved piece of art from an ordinary man. To see a small window into his emotional world and where his heart was in those long stretches of boredom. It was a space of brutal work, demoralizing work, and repulsive work, one where death was a constant shadow for both men and whales in a way that their lives were always inseparably on the same uncertain coin. But within that world, maybe despite that world, there was also a great deal of humanity, be it their music and sense of play, their whaler-specific social functions, their vulnerability. 

That whaling history luxuriously is a field where the words of hundreds of ordinary working class men have been preserved in diaries and logbooks means I get to know so many of them beyond statistics or names in a database. I get to learn about them on a personal level. I know what they worry about, what their favorite foods are, who they care about, when they have fun, when they’re miserable, sometimes what they find sexy, what makes them cry, and what makes them laugh, and what sort of man they hoped to be. In some of them I was reminded so much of myself, but in all of them I saw their unique and individual humanity, for better or for worse. So many of them carried a societal self consciousness within them that made me understand and feel for them. They often weren’t sure where they fit in a world that wasn’t a whaleship, even if that whaleship was a point of great hardship for them. So many of them wanted to be remembered in ways that they necessarily weren’t—few of them became historically important men, many of them died young or didn’t live to see home again, many of them may not have felt like they had anyone who cared about them, but they all had an existence they still clung to, that I feel compelled to try to honor and remember because I feel so much of them within me through that common thread of humanity.

This is a long answer, but as I said I still can’t express this in any way that isn’t shallow in this small space I have. It’s an interest that is both a personal, academic, and daresay spiritual one. I think to fully understand what draws me to it, you just gotta continually lurk in my awhalin tag and that ongoing comic of mine @goingtoweather. But hopefully this is a satisfying enough summary.

[literally-noone83]

More Than You Know

College!Henry Cavill × Fem!reader

About: The polarity of you and Cavill did not stop at your popularity status; when it came to affection, Cavill was always most comfortable in initiating it. However, you were not. Until one afternoon study session you find you were a little too touch starved to resist him.

Warning: Cussing and Kissing, nothing more. Mainly fluff. Not entirely proofread - literally got the author of moby dick wrong, welp.

Word count: Not that long.

Author's note: I DONT KNOW WHAT I WROTE. Honestly really like this one, especially the last bit. In the beginning I can't help myself but explain the background of their relationship - I realise I do that a lot and I feel like a lot of people just don't want that. But I thought this one was cute asf. Anyways, this also is probably most likely cringey so beware of my corny shit. Enjoy.

"You know I've never seen you this distracted when studying." Henry suddenly said. He glanced over to you, his lips curving into a smirk upon seeing your face become flushed with pink, quickly looking back at your text books.

He's caught you staring at him about a hundred times now.

It's supposed to be your traditional study session. In your dorm, you sat at your desk cluttered with notes and piling content he wouldn't even try to comprehend, and him laid on you'd bed comfortably studying Econ and business.

Henry was never really studious. It wasn't till he met you did he want to try. Who knew one banter with you in a library he'd once never catch himself dead in, about a book he'd only seen the movie of, meant meeting someone like you.

It wasn't hard to note how school orientated you were. You spent more time in the library than anyone on school campus. Volunteering to work there, shelving book after book, at the front desk scanning borrowed items or in between rows of mahogany shelves reading your favourite pieces for the third or fifth time. He thought you were a snob like most. Pretentious, an academic elitist, on your constant high horse. But the afternoon he had to finally sit down and read an overdue assignment of Herman Melville's Moby Dick, his grueling hardship to read one chapter amused you to no end. College's greatest macho man complaining this shit is so boring compared to the movie. The offence you took from such a comment he caught from a mile away. It was the moment he finally took notice and in annoyance he had to ask.

What, you disagree?

You shrugged. He hadn't known your name yet.

Yes, I actually do disagree, Cavil. But it's not like it matters to you.

Huh. But you knew his.

So you think this wad of crap is better than Hollywood blockbuster movie with Chris Hemsworth?

If you had half a brain and a attention span longer than child you'd see Hollywood doesn't do justice to Melville's writing.

... What's your name?

You scoffed and ignored his question.

You were definitely hard headed. You snubbed most of his questions about the book until his inquiries slowly turned on you. You always found a way to evade them. The times you took mercy and helped him in understanding literature were caveats of your walls coming down. Banter turned into teasing. The moment he heard you laugh — and quickly apologised for — his heart spurred with elation he didn't expect to feel. He wanted to hear you that sweet and smile so unabashed. Coincidental study sessions and run-ins with each other turned into late night walks he offered to your place, and hangouts in other bookshops and markets.

The polarity between the two was clichae to say the least but Henry couldn't care less. You become someone he liked to talk to, speaking in ways he hadn't before. And you were someone he loved to listen to. You were nothing like he expected, and he was a far cry from your own expectations. Reputations that proceeded you two crumbled in each other's presence.

In the end the biggest irony was that he couldn't finish Moby Dick for the life of him — you ended up spending hours talking to his about in library shifts — but he could read you so easily.

"I'm not, I'm not distracted." You denied, scribbling some words that wasn't relevant to your Lit course. You heard him chuckle.

"You're also awful at lying," you glanced to your right. He shifted onto his side to face you, taking a break from glossing over his assigned textbook.

"Whats wrong, babe?" He asked seriously, yet his voice still gentle. "You've been staring at me all of a sudden, something is clearly wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," you affirmed.

"Then why were you burning a hole in the side of mu head?"

"I was'nt!"

"So you werent looking at me?"

"Is it such a crime to stare?"

"So you do admit it!" He jutted a finger at you.

You groaned, "Oh hush, you're my boyfriend. Yes, I stare at you."

His heart clenched at your words. He loved it when you claim him as yours. A reminder that I'm yours, made him feel wanted. And in this case, it egged him on to tease.

"Baby, I think you want to do more than stare." You could smell his smirk, you refused to look at him. He watches you crane your neck further into you books, to hide the blush that dusted your complexion. If there something more he loved to hear you say he's your boyfriend was making you flustered.

"You are so lewd." You mumbled.

"So that's a yes." He teased.

"Wh- no!"

"No? you don't want to touch me." He feigned offence.

"I- I never said that!"

"You rather stare at me."

"I'm not saying that-"

"Then what are you saying, darling? C'mon tell me."

Your moment of silence makes him smirk self satisfied. "Aww baby, don't be shy. You are my girlfriend after all."

You finally looked at him. His stupid lopsided smile that made your chest pulse, and stupid sly glint in his eyes, knowing his effect on you. You saw his lips move. So pink and full. You heard the hum of his voice, the playfulness laced through it, and you saw his lips continue to move in speech but you didn't comprehend anything that came out. Maybe you were distracted.

He took your silence as annoyance, he shuffled closer to the edge on his elbows to reach out to you.

"C'mon babe," a laughed sprinkled in his words. "I'm sorry, I'll quit teasing and I'll leave you to your studying. I swear it." He looked up at you. Your gaze was on him but somehow so far from the now. He stretched out his hand to place it on your thigh to bring you back, "Just after you tell me what is going on inside that big brain of your-" The moment he touched you, your hand suddenly grabbed his stong jaw, tilting his head up to you. You leant down and connected your lips to his.

The force of your lips stunned him. You swallowed his words and he couldn't been more pleasantly surprised. It wasn't often that you were so assertive outside the realm of verbal debates and banter. For the longest time you were rather shy when it came to physical affection; the way you stuttered slightly behind a cough when he'd snake his hand down your arm and intwine with your fingers, or never push for more when you kissed. He knew this, and so he was always gentle and you let him lead every time. But this. This was different. His lips were still, at first almost just registering your lips on his. Feeling you press into him further, his hand around your wrist loosened and his eyes fluttered shut relishing at this change.

It was intoxicating. The felt of his lips, the way his bottom lip fit so perfectly between yours. Soft, tender, you had half a mind not to bite into it. You pulled back only millimetres before drawing into for another, a rhythm you were setting he was gladly falling into. All stress and tension dissipated from you, entranced by him, the feeling of him. You want him and you have him, you remind yourself.

Henry was undeniably annoying as fuck. He teased you and never backed down from a banter. He talk to you about anything, so unfiltered you became around him was frightening before. Yet now you find comfort in it; the way he listens and some how picks up on ques from you without saying anything. He was gentle, and understood even when he couldn't possibly; he always tried. He didn't yell or was aggressive as most assume. He plays tough, and has been since you've known him, but he's so soft, he's a sap for romance and a nerd for fantasy. He's genuine, and he's thoughtful. You loved him.

The fact overwhelmed you, and your languid kisses began to pick up. You couldnt get enough of him. Suddenly you were pecking him on the lips. The change in pace, humoured Henry, funny to note you had no time for patience when you dominated. You now held the sides of his face, you felt his lips curl and you kissed the corners of his smile. He was so irresistible it made your heart ache and stomach flutter. As your kisses travelled to his cheeks, to his nose and even eye lids, a chuckled escaped his lips, your touch so feathery it tickled. Until you reached his forehead.

You kissed one last time in the centre between his temples. You held it for a second longer to let him know this was out of affection and infatuation, settling for the spur of physical aggression. An affliction he enjoyed.

You felt him fingers softly caress the back of your hand that cradled his left cheek. Back to earth, you rested the crown of your forehead against his own, too embarrassed to see your flushed complexion as if he hasn't already seen it about a thousand times. Regardless his eyes were on you, closely watching the way your lips parted to release a semi-labored breath and your evasive gaze half-lidded. He couldn't help it either, his cheeks burned at this new affection. It excited him. He wondered if you could feel it under the pads of your finger tips.

"You are actually annoying me." You breathily said and a laugh erupted from his lungs. His breath tickled your face and you couldn't help but join him.

"And you're distracting me." You continued with a smile you couldn't suppress.

"Oh yea?" He swayed you against him.

"Yea, so I think I do need you to leave." You didn't mean it in the slightest.

"After that? I don't think I'll ever leave your side, baby." His voice grew soft, turning his playful comment into something sincere. Soft chuckles slipped your lips, and gently he pulled back. He needed to see your face.

Your hand left his face as you let up some space—just a little—in between you and your lover, rather letting them glide past his side of his neck, dip in the crook of his neck and slide to his chest. One of his hands followed. He warmed your palms and his hand pressed it against him to make sure you rested there.

"I'm sorry," you began, "I don't- I don't usually do that, I just..."

You felt his thumb career your knee and his soft lips peck your cheek, nudging you to look at him. You hadn't realised you were still avoiding his gaze until you met his light eyes.

He leaned in and kissed your other cheek in routine. "Don't do that," his looked at you and you saw his eyes dance between your eyes, "Don't apologise."

You exhaled through your nose, nodding. "I just wanted to kiss you"

"Really? I couldn't tell."

"Shut up" Leaning back instinctively out of embarrassment, he kept you close to him.

"But really, sorry I was so..."

"So assertive?" He raised his brows and you nodded, "Well, I actually quite liked it." He admitted.

"Really?" You asked.

"Yea," he had a soft smile. Not teasing or mischief, just sincere and elated.

"Really really?" You leaned in close, a smile breaking out against your will as you leaned in close.

"Yea," he whispered, his eyes dropped to your lips, as did you yours. You kissed him.

"Well I could practice..." you mumbled against his lips, pressing his hands against his chest to push him slowly back, "to be more assertive."

He followed your lead, smirking at your words. "I would..." He spoke between every kiss, "... love... that..."

"Yea?"

"Fuck yea..." His heart preened at your giggle.

"More... than you... know, baby"