#Must be incomprehensible but I don't care

[starscreamingg]

Honestly transformers one deserves a medal for being the first transformers. Thing. In like five years to make me actually like and want to see bumblebee

[comicaurora]

So uhh. If you feel like talking about it. As someone who lives in the US, how are you being kind to yourself on this upsetting morning <3

Checked in with my loved ones first and foremost.

It's interesting. The vibe I've been getting from my circle is very different from 2016. Much less… dread and horror at a realignment of the understanding of what can and can't happen here, now, in this place and day and age. More "fuck, guys. again? whatever. enjoy your consequences, maybe you'll manage to learn something this time."

Frustration and anger is not the most positive feeling, or even the most fair one to express, but it is a protective one. It hurts a lot less than most alternatives.

And it's quite a shift. It was earthshattering back then. How could this have been allowed to happen? Why couldn't it be stopped? Why couldn't we stop it? Why couldn't I stop it? Why couldn't everyone see what this meant? Why couldn't I make them understand? Did they really not care? What did that mean about humanity as a whole? Were we so thoughtless? How could anyone be trusted?

It seems… much less earthshattering to see it happen twice. Disappointing, sure. Frustrating. But nowhere near as devastating as the first time I saw it unfold. We already knew it could happen. I've already had time to digest the implications. Now I'm just freshly disappointed.

It also feels less indicative of Crushing Truths Of Reality this time. We've seen shit get bad. We've also seen shit get better from here! We know both outcomes are possible, even inevitable. We know hoping for a better future is always worthwhile. This isn't the apocalypse. It's an unremarkably bad turn of events brought on by unremarkably self-centered well-documented human impulses. It's utterly mundane in its unpleasantness. It doesn't need to be dignified with despair.

A democratic election, no matter the outcome or the side we're on, makes us all acutely aware of how outnumbered we are by people whose worldviews and priorities are demonstrably incomprehensible to us. And the first time you get outnumbered, it's a shock. Defeat is haunting. It didn't matter how badly you wanted it; by the very function of democracy, you do not have the power to override greater numbers. (insert electoral college caveat here)

The second time through, I find myself focusing on a different facet that has dramatically reduced the amount of spiralling I'm doing. I don't expect this to work for everyone, but for me specifically, it helped to crystallize a few thoughts:

You don't have the power to control anyone else. You don't. You can't share your worldview and your revelations with them. You can't make them think or understand anything. You can lay it all out for them, but you can't make them listen, and you can't make it click. A mentor can't make their student learn a lesson; that's why teaching is so complicated and hard. An active choice must be made by the person to enable themselves to understand, and they must put the pieces together in their own mind before it makes sense to them, and the pieces must have been presented in a way that makes sense to them in the first place. Lead a horse to water, can't make them drink.

These elections highlight a disconnect in what different groups of people care about; and no matter how clearly you explain yourself or how passionately you perform, caring cannot be forced on someone. Understanding and connection cannot be forced. You cannot make anything or anyone matter to someone. They have to choose to see how it matters in order to internalize it. If they choose not to, that is not your failing. You couldn't have made them do it by just Explaining Better. They are not your responsibility. They make their own choices. You can't reach inside their head and connect the dots for them.

I'm a storyteller. I make stories and put them out into the world. I hope people get something good out of them, but I have no control over what that something is. I want people to be thoughtful and kind and compassionate and hopeful and see themselves reflected in stranges, no matter their differences. I can craft stories that I hope encourage this. But that is the extent of my ability and the extent of my responsibility. I control no-one's actions but my own, and so while I am not having the best day, I am at least content that I am doing what I can, and I am not shattering myself against impossibilities trying to control the things I can't.

Sometimes, people make decisions that I think are really bad. I can't make that not happen. All I can do is try to make decisions that will result in things I think are good. Today, that means checking in on people, and not assigning too much dramatic narrative weight to an ultimately mundane set of unremarkable bad decisions outside of my control. We'll take life as it comes and help each other out when and how we can. Everything else is out of our hands.

[hindahoney]

If you want to code-switch so often that you are nearly incomprehensible to goyim, here is a list of my favorite and most-used Jewish terms:

Schvitzing - Sweating. (Ex: "I'm schvitzing so much it's showing through my clothes.")

Schlep - A tedious and long journey, depending on usage it can mean that you were carrying something. (Ex: "I had to schlep all the way across campus, my backpack was so heavy." Usually denotes a long walk, but other forms of transportation are acceptable too. "You drove all the way to New York from Florida? That's quite the shlep.")

Shtati - Something really cool. (Ex: "I visited my friend's place and they had a shtati mezuzah!")

Neshama - Soul. (Ex: "Mazel tov on your conversion, you have such a strong Jewish neshama!")

Balagan - A big mess, chaotic, confusing (Ex: "Moshe forgot to bring challah for shabbat dinner, and it turned into this big balagan")

Achi/Achoti - "Achi" literally means "my brother," but can also be used like bro or dude, "achoti" is the feminine equivalent meaning "sister"

Yalla - Come on, let's go (Ex: "Yalla yalla, you're going to make us late again")

Mishpacha - Family. Doesn't have to be literal blood relatives, usually a sign of warmth or friendship. (Ex: "I care about every Jew, they're all my mishpacha.")

Pshhh - Interjection sound, to express respect or agreement with what someone is saying, but can also be playfully poking fun at someone taking themselves too seriously, can be used sarcastically.

Achla - amazing, awesome, great, the best (Ex: "You graduated from university? Achla!")

Sheina Punem (Shayna Punim) - Pretty face (Ex: My bubbe kept pinching my cheeks and calling me a sheina punem) Can be used ironically, in which case it means "a disgrace."

Ahavat Yisrael - to love your fellow Jew (Ex: "I firmly believe in ahavat yisrael, even if it's hard sometimes.")

Schande - Shame, dishonor among the nations, meaning a Jew who represents Jews badly, a serious insult. (Ex: "He's a schande, he feeds into antisemitic stereotypes.")

Schmutz - Dirt, stain. (Ex: "Use your napkin, you've got schmutz on your face.")

Amalek - Any enemy of the Jewish people. ("[Fill in blank] is the modern Amalek, they hate the Jews.")

Lanceman/Landsmen - Two jews from the same place, a point of connection between two Jews who now live far away from their hometown. (Ex: "Your grandma is from Crown Heights? Mine too, our grandparents are landsmen!")

Goyisch - Something not Jewish (Ex: "I don't listen to Taylor Swift, her music is too goyisch for me.")

Goyischekop/Goyische-kop - Goyisch head, a jew who thinks/sounds like a non-jew. (Ex: "How could you say about your fellow Jew? Do you have a goyische-kop or something?")

Kindaleh/Kinderlach - Little children (Ex: "I passed by the school and saw the kindaleh on the playground, they're so cute!")

Chamud/Chamuda/Chamudi - Sweetie, cutie, usually aimed at children, but can be a term of endearment between a couple. Can be condescending when said rudely to another adult, like "Sweetheart" can be in English. (ex: "Goodnight, Chamudi. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.")

Daven - to pray ("Are you going to join us for davening?")

Frum - A religiously observant Jew. ("He's frum, he davens three times a day.")

Treif - Unkosher, generally something not good, doesn't have to literally refer to a food. ("I trained my dog to stop barking when I say 'treif!'.")

Bubkis - Zero, nothing, nada ("Moshe got a gift from bubbe and I got bubkis.")

Kvetch - To complain ("I'm just kvetching, I'm not that upset about it.")

Kvell - Extreme pride. ("I heard your daughter made it into her top school, you must be kvelling!")

Mensch - A good, admirable person. ("He volunteers every week, he's a mensch.")

Chillul HaShem - Disgracing God's name, someone who does something that makes Jews look bad.

Kiddush HaShem - Something that sanctifies God's name, brings honor to God. ("I love seeing you wear a kippah, it's a kiddush HaShem!")

Bubbe meise - Little white lies ("He told his teacher a bubbe meise about his dog eating his homework.")

I should acknowledge that these are mostly Yiddish words, as my experience is primarily with Ashkenazi Jews. If you would like to add common slang from your community (like Ladino phrases, Judeo-Arabic, Italki, etc) I would love to learn about them!

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

The Blackwood Knight prt.8

Disclaimer: I wrote this because Victoria is a Shakespeare girlie and loves Romeo and Juliet. She also loves Crimson Peak, which inspired the last two parts.

Description: Benjicot resorts to drastic measures to win back his lady's trust and love, having accidentally placed doubt in her mind as to his true intentions.

Part 7

Playlist:

Gold Rush~ Taylor Swift

The Way I Loved You~ Taylor Swift

How You Get The Girl~ Taylor Swift

Adore You ~ Harry Styles

Warnings: female reader. Nothing else I don't think. Robb being an iconic twink with access to the blueprints for Bracken Hall and too much sass for Westeros to handle.

"Let me get this absolutely crystal clear in my mind. You described your union as 'mutually beneficial'!" Robb cried incredulously, striking Benjicot on the shoulder from behind, as he sat slumped onto a desk in the library of his ancestral seat. 

The glow cast by the lit lanterns, attached to the ancient stone walls, cast shadows over his face which bore signs of the deepest distress. 

"It sounds beyond reprehensible when you repeat those words, words which I most bitterly regret. I did not mean them in the way that both yourself and my lady have interpreted them, but it makes them no less acrid when you repeat them." He responded dejectedly, slumping his head once again upon the desk. 

Mumbling almost incomprehensibly so that Robb had to tilt his head down towards his friend to hear him. 

"What can I do to make amends? She hates me. I fear she will never speak to me again." 

Robb cast a contemptuous look at his friend before retorting. 

"You bloody fool. Not only did you make her sound to even my indulgent ears like a prize to be bartered between Houses, but you also did so with the very fiend from whose taunts you once defended her. Can you not see that you have made a shy, sweet girl who loved and trusted you feel as if the one person who she believed cared for her and would protect her above all others was nothing more than a cipher of the bullies she has sought to shield herself from?!" 

Seeing Benjicot's increasingly pained expression, as he roughly gripped his hair in both hands, Robb relented a little. 

"The damage you have done in your carelessness will be very difficult to remedy. You must show her that you love her and value her above all else. Words are not enough." 

Lifting his head, Benjicot's expression became resolved as he turned it to meet his friend. 

"I will, even if she will never again allow me to be in her presence," He struggled to continue, the thought causing him physical pain, "I must at the very least convince her that my love for her was never a lie. I cannot bear the thought that I have only cemented her insecurities. That I have born my own part in making her feel as if I mocked her...just like her contemptuous cousin." 

At this, he began to rise.

"I must see her." 

Perking up at this and slapping his friend approvingly on the back, Robb moved to lift his sword from the table and responded. 

"Glad to hear it. I'll get the Lads together and we can defend your flank whilst you hop over the border and get on your knees to beg your lady for forgiveness, you're favourite past time I know." 

Looking at him with mild irritation, Benjicot rose, placing a firm hold on Rob's shoulder. 

"Whilst I greatly appreciate the support, I must go myself. She's shy and frightened enough of me, after my misdemeanor, and I don't want you and your cronies scaring her off before I can even apologise." 

Laughing at this, Robb retorted smugly. 

"More likely you're afraid of her falling in love with me. Fear not, my interests lie in another direction entirely, but I'll hold off if you are determined. Of course Kermit will be devastated not to have a free shot at a Bracken, but I will assuage him." 

With this, Benjicot nodded at his friend before rising quickly and striding from the room, through the halls of Raventree as he continued to ruminate with anguish on the distressed face of his lovely lady and the part he had played in causing her distress. He would explain that he loved her and valued her above all else. That he meant every word he had said to her. That he would protect, serve and adore her if she would only let him, only forgive him. He would beg for her forgiveness, even if she could never herself love him again. It would be enough if she would only permit him to continue in her presence as a loyal knight.

It had been a day since Y/N had fled from the man she had come to trust and love, the only one she believed had ever cared for her and seen her as more than a shadow in the background of life....mistakenly. After Aeron had carried her back to her quarters in Bracken Hall she had locked her doors and allowed no visitors, barring her handmaiden. 

She spent the intervening hours between that of the previous days events and the advent of night on her balcony, her still pained ankle raised on a cushion on her chaise, as she read of Visenya. She was mentally and physically retreating to the shelter of her room and her books, determined never to open her heart to another person, as she had so foolishly done this time. She was silly to believe that Benjicot could love her for herself, rather than the political promise she could represent for him. She had trusted him where she had never invested anyone else with such trust. She had begun to gain in confidence in her dreams, her beliefs, and in his love, all for it to be shattered in a moment. Her embarrassment at having opened her heart to another person, to revealing herself so freely, where she was always so careful to be a shadowy presence in others' lives, was overwhelming, as she sunk further into her seat and further into herself. 

Wrapped in these painful thoughts, it was a few seconds before she heard a muffled voice calling her name from the direction of the dark expanse underneath her window. Rising carefully from her seat, using the pillars lining the portico of the balcony to balance herself as she moved towards the edge of it, she looked down to see the hopeful and desperate expression of the man she both hated and loved. Seeing her come into view, his face lit up with irrepressible delight, before quickly falling when she began to quickly turn away, book pressed protectively to her chest as she made to retreat to her room. She did not want to speak with him. 

Seeing her retreat, he quickly called out. 

"Please my love, please, I entreat you to let me explain what you overheard in the woods." 

Stopping where she was, she turned and moved once again back to the edge of the balcony. 

Speaking quietly and timidly, but not so much so that he could not hear her, accustomed as he was to listening for her quiet voice, she responded. 

"Please leave, I do not wish to speak with you now or henceforth. I can't understand why you are here now when you have made it abundantly clear that I myself am not what you seek. I would like you to leave."

Taking a deep, pained breath, Benjicot's expression underwent several changes before it became resolute and he stepped determinedly towards the pillar bolstering the balcony from the ground. 

Confused at his movements, Y/N became panicked when she realised he was climbing the pillar, frozen in position. It wasn't until he had swung his leg over the top of the balcony and had landed gracefully that she turned to flee, forgetting her injured ankle in the attempt, causing herself to stumble and hold onto a nearby pillar for support. Feeling gentle hands enclose around her elbows, she heard Benjicot speak quietly near her cheek. 

"Please don't run from me, my love. Your ankle is still injured. Please just allow me to help you." 

Looking down with concern at the ankle in question, he slowly, with great caution lest his lady should be offended, raised her arm around his neck and held her waist, fully supporting her weight so that he could place her on her chaise.  

Distressed to see his lady look away from him, her expression betraying embarrassment as well as displeasure, he knelt before her, bending his head low, before gently, reverently holding her hands in both of his own. 

"I will not disturb you further if you do not wish it, but I must convince you of the truth of my feelings for you and beg for your forgiveness for making you believe otherwise." 

Stopping him abruptly, Benjicot immediately desisted in deference to her speech, so important was anything she had to say to him, even if she meant only to order him away from her forever. 

Speaking quietly, she interrupted him. 

"I already heard what both you and my cousin said of me when you believed me not to be listening. I know that your protestations of love for me were all a ruse and that you were both in league together." 

Benjicot's expression betrayed the deep pain he felt at her response, drooping his head to rest it on her knees. 

"I can never apologise enough, nor beg for your forgiveness enough, for making you believe such a horrific notion. I had never spoken to your cousin of you before that dreadful moment, except when I first had the honour of meeting you. You were never just a bartering tool between us. I would break his legs if even tried to make such a suggestion. I had only meant to convey to him that I would repair the conflict between our houses so that in choosing me as your husband you would not also be choosing to abandon all that you knew. It is my mistake that I so brazenly worded my intent, my love." He added, casting his face down in desperation. 

"I have loved you since I first saw you sitting with your nose tucked into your histories under the Brackentree and have persued your love ever since. I have meant every word I have said to you since, and will continue to prove it to you in any way thay you will allow me."

His lady slightly turning towards him, Benjicot grew at once desperate and hopeful that she would listen to his entreaties, gripping her hands tighter in his as he raised his face to hers, hoping to convey the truth of his feelings in his eyes. 

"You speak very elegantly but I now know that you are so to all ladies and that this charade is not reserved for me alone." 

Reaching out to touch her face before quickly retracting his hand once he saw Y/N move away from him in discomfort, he instead responded. 

"Whilst I would consider myself to be a gentleman, there is only one lady I would traverse miles of enemy land and scale walls to get to." Saying this with a gentle smile, he continued to gaze upon her reverently. 

When she did not respond, he removed a brown leather volume from its place, stashed underneath his cloak. 

"I found this in my library and I thought it might be of interest to you." 

Hesitantly reaching to take the volume from his hand, she examined it before opening it. 

As she did so, he interposed "May I?" Pointing at the book. 

He turned the pages to an earmarked section, coloured with a rich illustration of a knight kneeling in homage before a queen. 

"This tells the story of a knight loyal to his queen above all else, swearing to protect, serve and..." He hesitated "love her for all of his life".

She gazed curiously down at the illustration in her hands as he spoke. 

"I thought you would like to have it, even should you order me away from your presence now. But I should like it to serve as an illustration of the devotion I feel towards you and as a reminder that I will always protect and adore you, even if only as your knight. Without any conditions. Without any expectation for you to love me in return. Just....let me adore you." He faltered staring up at her penitently, anxiously awaiting her response. 

It was a few agonising moments for Benjicot before Y/N raised her hand towards his shoulder, causing him to hold his breath lest he frighten her in his shock. Delicately placing her hand on his shoulder, she placed the other one on his other shoulder, causing him to subconsciously lean into her touch. 

Looking timidly away from him, she began to speak. 

"So you really did not mean that I was a...political tool." 

Leaning further towards her face, he quickly refuted such a notion. 

"I would thrash any man who suggested it. You are my lady, my love." 

Gazing into his eyes searchingly, she seemed to find what she sought in them, and leant her head gently upon his shoulder. 

Shocked, yet rejoicing at her affectionate gesture and in the comfort she seemed to look to from him, he lost no time in wrapping a protective arm around her waist, pulling her into his torso as he held her head gently in his other hand. Closing his eyes in relief, he held her like that for a few peaceful moments, scarcely believing that his love had forgiven him and that she had initiated their embrace. Taking it as a sign of the trust she had reinvested in him to protect her heart as well as her person, he solemnly swore in his own mind to guard it with more sucess than he had yet done as of late.

She pulled away too quickly for his liking, wishing as he did that she could always be so close to him.

"How did you even find your way here with impunity, let alone my balcony?"

Smirking at this, Benjicot threw his cloak dramatically over his shoulder to amuse her with his antics.

"I of course practiced great stealth, opting for a cloak and daggers approach."

Raising a disapproving eyebrow at him but with her mouth turned up at the corner, Benjicot rejoiced to have made her smile and to have amused her.

"In truth i just walked past the Red Ford and straight until i found Bracken Hall, i wasn't too worried about encountering any Bracken men. I'd just run them through if they tried to prevent me from reaching my Love. As far as finding your balcony goes, i was just blessed to see your pretty person upon it....and my good friend Robb also has an encyclopedic knowledge of Bracken Hall, having planned to storm it so many times." He added, slightly sheepishly.

Rolling her eyes at him, lightly swatting his chest.

"You're crazy."

Smirking again he rose to put his arm against the wall by her face, leaning his face towards hers.

"Crazy about you."

"And ridiculous," she added, laughing.

Reaching out to hold her chin gently in his other hand he leaned in further, before whispering in response "ridiculously in love with you", as his lips crashed onto hers, his arm moving to encircle her waist and support her weight as he did so.

Breaking the kiss, he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, gazing up at her as if she were the sun. 

"Can i come and see you tomorrow?" He asked tentatively, unable to fully conceal his fear that she would still order him hence.

"I'd rather you didn't risk your life in such a dangerous attempt. I can always come to meet you."

Frowning at this, he stroked the back of her cheekbone with his nuckle. 

"You think i would allow my darling to cross that distance with an injured leg when i can cross it myself?"

Seeing her blush at his appellation, he smiled and reached forward to increase her blush by kissing the corner of her mouth.

"I think not. I have no fear of your Bracken bannermen. Although I do fear having to inform my disapproving lady love that i've despatched all of them because they tried to stop me from seeing her."

Benjicot walked away from his lady love's balcony that evening, not before blowing her a kiss, and silently rejoicing that she had forgiven him and permited him to remain in her presence and in her heart.

@lovebabe18-blog @poppyflower-22 @ithilwen-blackwood @spinachtz @lady-callisto @twistytimesandthoughts @abookloverlawyerfan-blog @mymoonempress @drwho-ess @dancingbaek @aemondslove @cheendrella

[leviathans-watching]

I have an request for you- is it alright if you do an fanfic where the brothers, dateables, and even the new characters get turned into toddlers? And now (mc) had to care of them? But Luke turns into a baby. A really fluffy, motherly thing? Idrk it's my first time requesting from you- it's alright if you don't want to do it though! :D -chickechee 🐥

when they turn into toddlers

includes: barbatos & gn!reader, & everyone else (no pronouns mentioned)

rated g | wc: .5k | m.list

a/n: oml this was so cute i hope you enjoy!! i have more baby!luke here as well. my inbox is open to chat, req, or leave feedback so come say hi <33

reblogs are greatly appreciated

“oh my god!” you look around the room in horror. “what the hell happened?”

barbatos looks like he hasn't slept in a week. it’s only been a few hours since the initial incident. “what always does,” he answers tiredly, shifting toddler–yes, toddler!–diavolo to his other hip. “someone touched some cursed relic they weren’t supposed to and the effect was disastrous.”

“that’s one word for it,” you murmur. everyone, except for you and barbatos, had regressed into children. infants, even. barbatos had made quick use of the castle’s nursery, left over from one of the previous rulers, and turned it into something daycare-esque, thankfully providing a safe space for them all to be that would keep them out of harm's way, as well as trouble.

as you watch, mammon rises onto shaky legs, making his way over to levi, who’s playing with blocks. “oh please tell me he’s not going to do what i think he’s going to do,” you moan.

“he’s going to do exactly what you think he’s going to do,” barbatos replies, and sure enough, in one deliberate movement, mammon knocks over all of levi’s hard work. immediately, levi begins to scream, startling mammon, who falls back onto the padded ground and begins to cry himself.

“oh, shush.” moving more on instinct, you scoop levi up, patting his back gently. “you’ll be alright, honey.”

he quiets, staring at your face. you wonder if he recognizes you. mammon is still crying, so you set levi back down and move on to comforting him.

“that wasn’t very nice, now, was it?” you ask gently. “let’s not knock over other’s towers, okay?”

he sniffles, rubbing at his eyes with tiny fat baby hands, and it’s just the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen. when you go to set him down, he holds tight, and you realize that apparently, he was just as clingy as a toddler as he is now. wonderful.

shifting him to one side, you take stock of everyone else, making sure there are no immediate concerns. simeon, rapheal, and lucifer are sitting together, coloring (and jesus christ you’re going to need to pull out your camera right now), diavolo is still in barbatos’ capable grasp, beel and belphie are napping quietly in a pile of blankets, solomon is telling something to asmo and satan in incomprehensible toddler speech, and mephisto and thirteen are busy playing on their own. you spy a crib in the corner, which must hold luke, who barbatos had said had regressed into an infant rather than a toddler.

“you’re good with children,” barbatos observes, and you sigh.

“i always did like them. i spent my teenage years as a babysitter and camp counselor so i have some experience under my belt,” you explain. “so are you, by the way.” you’ve long stopped being surprised by the fact that barbatos is skilled at literally everything.

“yes, well, it helps that they’re a bit better behaved like this than when they are normally,” he says, and you can’t help but laugh. against your shoulder, mammon echoes your laugh, then sticks his fingers in his mouth. eh, he’s got a demon’s immune system, he’ll be fine.

“how much longer are they going to stay like this?” you ask, and barbatos shrugs.

“probably two or three more hours,” he says.

“just enough time to have to give them lunch while they’re like this,” you say with a slow-dawning horror. “which should be super easy and not difficult or tiring at all.”

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[neversetyoufree]

I'm fascinated by the Noé stuff in this chapter. I feel like Mochijun has been working toward calling more attention to his particular comprehension problems as we move into the new arc (like the "be a little bothered" reaction back in 57), and I can kind of see a way this slots into that.

One of Noé's biggest issues is that he seems to be utterly incapable of processing most trauma as trauma. His optimism goes beyond the point of what's healthy to straight-up incomprehension of reality. I don't even want to call it denial, because I think denial requires some small degree more of awareness than what Noé has going on. I've used this line before, but it's like bad things roll off of him like water off a raincoat, never making an imprint in his conscious mind. The guy was abducted by human traffickers while mourning the death of his foster parents, and he seems to have been injured in the process. Yet he laughs it off and says the experience was fun! Like taking a trip!

And I think I see that same tendency as the roots of how he acts in this chapter.

Noé is aware that mistreating and/or de-personing the Dante and co is wrong. And that's what all the other vampires are clearly doing in this scene when they refuse to call them by their names—they're de-personing them. But! Noé likes the other vampires in that scene. He likes Nox, Manet, and Orlock, and he thinks the world of Domi, so I think he really struggles to comprehend that they're purposely doing something he knows is hateful and wrong. "My friends whom I respect are being hateful and actively de-humanizing other people I care about" is not a concept that's going to find easy purchase on Noé's denialbrain. So his lovely toxic optimism lands on the easier answer instead. They must just not have been introduced!

To take Dante's phrasing, I don't think he's doing it on purpose, and he's not stupid. He's just sheltered and hopeful to a truly spectacular (and unhelpful) degree.

Thus far, Noé's over-optimistic incomprehension of reality has only been with regards to things about himself. His friends might get a bit concerned when he brushes off his suffering, but he's never accidentally hurt others or brushed off their pain before. However, this time his inability to confront or even process the Bad Thing—the fact that his friends are dham racist—has affected other people (the people actually suffering the racism). If nothing else, it's a really interesting way to call more attention to his slight disconnect from reality.

[grison-in-space]

man I've been listening to Guards! Guards! again, right. I was going to do Feet of Clay again but I wanted so badly to spend some time with Lady Sybil in her element, so I detoured over to the beginning. (Incidentally, Making-Money!Vetinari up against Guards!-Guards!Vetinari is one hell of a contrast. One gets the sincere impression that older Vetinari would wipe the floor with his younger self if they ever met, and then be painfully embarrassed afterward; and yet you can see the potential among the arrogance. I wrote this bit before I wrote a longer piece about that exchange, but I'll get round to linking it in here in a moment.)

But I wanted to discuss Sybil.

The first thing you have to understand about Sybil is that she is an archetype of a certain kind of autistic person, usually a woman (or a queer man). You find them in every kind of domestic animal fancy, although Sybil is of the class and rank that generally focuses on relatively large, expensive, and impractical animals; the dragon fancy is mostly based on the dog fancy, with strong influence from horse fancies and sometimes cat or falconry fancies. It is not a coincidence that Sybil is unmarried and that most of her time is spent with other women, often middle class or upper class women, who share her all consuming interest in dragons; this has been a really common social circle for autistics, especially autistic women with independent money, into a given animal fancy since the cultural concept of animal fancies existed.

The second thing you have to understand about Sybil is that she is not at all a conventionally attractive woman. Here are the things we learn about her as Vimes does, in order: she has inherited wealth and status that she does not particularly care about; she is large--taller than Vimes himself, or at least tall enough to loom over him--and "booms" confidently and incomprehensibly at him; and even after she takes off the heavy protective armor useful for conducting a dragon mating, she's tall and fat and (implied to be) heavily muscled under the fat. Her figure is compared to the Venus of Willendork, or perhaps an operatic Valkyrie, and she wears wigs because she is generally fairly bald, or at least singed. She's loud by nature. She wanders around with a dragon on her shoulder creating awful smells and occasionally dribbling.

God, I love her. Speaking as another erstwhile animal fancy autistic, she's really living the dream there. And this little Watch man shows up in her life, totally fails to understand what she's asking for when she tries to conscript him into the easy job for the breeding she's trying to facilitate, and then sits and asks her a bunch of pointed questions about her beloved dragons. He's weird in his own way and a little drunk, and he really is unfortunate enough not to have any dragons experience at all, but he sits down and he asks her questions and he listens to everything she can infodump at her with, as far as I can tell, rapt fascination.

This is not an experience Sybil Ramkin has frequently had. He doesn't try to escape or change the subject or draw her back to the pieces he cares about even a little bit. He's clearly dazed and confused and probably, knowing Vimes, a little bit drunk, but he's not even visibly discomfited enough to shove poor old Dewdrop Maybelline Talonthrust the First out of his lap. Sybil clearly knows that most people don't appreciate being drooled acid on, and tells Vimes repeatedly that he can shove the old man off, but he makes no effort to do so at any point. Given that dragons are described as having a quite pervasive smell, and given all the other details of their biology, I can't even begin to imagine how awful the old dragon must smell... and Vimes just sort of rolls with it.

(It's a pity Pterry didn't understand show names at all, of course; the ones we get should tell us something about the relationships among dragons and kennels, and the prefixes should be repeated, and whatever Sybil's own kennel name is should be present in many of the dragons she mentions. Probably it's either Talonthrust or Moonmist, but either way Goodboy Bindle Featherstone of Quirm is named entirely wrong. He's clearly of her own breeding, so he should have a kennel prefix or suffix that aligns with hers, not a name that has nothing in common with her other dragons and implies that his dam was bred by the duchess of Quirm rather than by Sybil herself.)

He listens and he listens and he asks questions and he goes down to the kennels to look at her pride and joy and listen to her explaining what makes each of them so nice. And then he brings her an incredibly exciting present. And he expresses interest in the sweet little whittle she's been trying to work out what to do with, who is totally not a breeding specimen but is too weird even for the sort of people who adopt dragons from the Sunshine Sanctuary. He doesn't even try to leave until the big dragon overhead causes a big stir, and then when she has him taken to her house to recover, she finds him reading her book about diseases of the dragons with every evidence of fascination.

Small wonder she takes notice of him, really.

[coeurdelain]

It’s always « poor Lulu » and never « poor Elain ».

Elain who had a mother who didn’t care about her. A mother who only cared about Elain’s beauty and what that beauty could bring her. A mother who didn’t believe in her. A mother who said she had no ambition, and that she only cared about her gardens. A mother who wanted Elain to have an advantageous marriage.

Elain who saw her father’s death. ( and maybe she feels guilty for his death for not arriving sooner. The fact she said nothing could have saved him. Did she have to make a choice between saving Nesta and Cassian or her father ? A life for a life. We don't know if changing the future can have consequences. )

Elain who saw both of her sisters almost die in front of her.

Elain who has been kidnapped two times. (And we don’t know her thoughts about it.)

Elain who was thrown in the cauldron. (Feyre literally said that Elain’s screams broke her heart and Nesta said she felt violated ») Also, the fact Elain was thrown the first one, she didn’t know if she would survive. She had to deal with pain, stress, fear and also, the humiliation when almost all of the men in the room laughed at her. Also, the fact she was almost naked in front of them.

Elain who had her heart broken by Graysen. He rejected her because she is a fae now. He didn’t accept her as she was. And during this time, she had to learn to love a body that people made her hate (people seems to forgot but for Nesta and Elain, Faes weren’t good people. They learned to fear and hate them.) All the sisters had to deal with this transition. Be the thing they learned to hate. They were humans and now they are faes. They saw their lives changed overnight.

Elain who had to deal with her new power. She was lost between reality and dreams. She saw and heard things that no one else saw and heard. She must have also thought she was crazy or something was wrong with her. Until Azriel told her she was a seer. She blinked and woke up. (And it makes me laugh when people said that she needed sunlight or see the gardens when it is written in the book that « she woke up »when Azriel told her she was a seer. You can’t make an interpretation when it’s literally written).

I also add that Elain was depressed in the beginning of ACOWAR. She wasn’t eating, she didn’t speak, she was staying in her bedroom.

And finally, Elain who had to deal with a mate while she is interested in someone else. A mate who reminder her of her trauma. A mate who reminds her the worst day of her life probably. (It’s also why I prefer Elriel than Elucien or even Gwynriel. The first meeting between two characters is very important to me, and the circumstances in which Gwynriel and Elucien met are just too sad. Elain and Gwyn look at them and they remember the worst day of their life, it’s not very romantic to me).

So, the lack of compassion for Elain is so incomprehensible. She’s literally the definition of suffer in silence.

And, I’am tired of seeing comment like « Lucien deserves to be happy ». They act like Lucien carried all the misery of the world on his shoulders.

All the characters suffered.

[inconsistent-kuroshitsuji-blog]

Can I request Sebastian with a gender neutral s/o (or master) who had a mental breakdown bcs of math and acted like nothing happened infront of him? (I'm gonna lose my mind over math)

My dearie, of course. I know, it has been a while, but now I am here. (That sounded like I'm some sort god-figure.) I'm about 90% sure that I have completely lost my mind over math and have no way of getting it back.

Sebastian comforting you after you lose your mind over your math homework

When the fuck did math get letters? Why does math need letters? Why must it make a problem out of everything? Who cares at what degree a certain angle of a roof of a weird art exhibition is. Why should you care at what height a discoball is located if a laser hits it at a certain angle? And who even thinks of such ridiculous problems?

Advanced education? More like an advanced headache. You've sat here at your desk for about three hours, longer than you planned to. You were just trying to do your homework, but nothing was working out. The numbers didn't add up, you don't even know where to start at. It is all too much, too much at once, you just can't handle it anymore.

Throwing away your pencil, you start sobbing over that darned piece of paper. What is this supposed to teach you? Well, nothing that matters to you, of course, yet you're still forced to keep up with algebra and geometry and analysis, totally useless in your daily life. If only these problems were solvable with tears. The only thing they do for you right now is smudge your already hastily written tasks and solutions. Oh, how you hate this. You can only hate this. How could you ever do anything else-?

Your door opens. What now? Who has come to bother you at your lowest point of the day?

"Is everything alright, my dear?", you hear, yet you don't look up. You don't have to do so to know who is there. You'd recognise his gentle voice in a crowded room full of people who don't know how to properly adjust their voice volume. You also want to save yourself from the embarrassment of him seeing your puffy red eyes. So you only mumble something into your arm, something along the lines of "Maybe, I don't know, leave me alone.".

But he didn't. Of course he didn't leave, he never really does what you tell him to. Just like his beloved cats, Sebastian does what he feels like doing at any given point. So if he wants to physically see your tears for his amusement, he will watch them slowly run down your cheeks. You hear how he places something infront of you.

"If everything truly was alright, you'd show me your beautifull face. So, look up for me.". That snarky bastard. You'd hate him for that if you didn't love him more. So you slowly look up to him, eyes all puffy and swollen. "See? I'm fine.". You finally realised he placed a batch of biscuits infront of you, freshly made of course. Sebastian looks down at you with that smirk he always seems to have on his face. "Well, I don't believe you. You're a bad liar, kitten. What is troubling you?". He doesn't even wait for your answer, he just looks down and responds with a little "Ah.". He saw everything he needed to see.

"Is your scholarship too hard on you again? Or is it you being too hard on yourself?", he asked while sitting down next to you. He seemingly tries to make out what you wrote, but it is simply incomprehensible thanks to your tears. "I told you already, it's nothing. Just some stupid problems. As if I would've brought them to class anyway..."

"Frustrated, are we?". "Shut it...", you deliberately look away, yet he pulls you into his arms and starts to stroke your head. "Now, no need to cry over silly made up numbers and problems. Rest your head for now.". Sebastian slightly nudges your head onto his chest. Maybe he's right. You should take a little break, just for now.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Phew, finally something fresh on my paige. As you can guess, I'm well and alive, more alive than well but alive nonetheless. I'll see how I can get back on track. But until then, I will fulfill the meaning of my name by disappearing suddenly and reappearing again. Like a little ghost.

Until then~

Your Inconsistent Kuroshitsuji Blog~

[aemondloverr]

𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛 ?

Steven Grant x FemReader

Angst + Smut

A/N: Enjoy my second Fanfic!

Synopsis: Your best friend Steven is going through a break up with Layla and he needs you and your comfort + You get your get back on Layla.

wc: 5.5k

Contents: Angst, break up and cheating mentions, Cry-baby Steven, Sub!Steven, Pathetic perv Steven, Oral m!Receiving, tit-fucking, extremely angry layla, dirty messages, reader has a cat

*****

Ding

Ding

Stevie has sent you two chats.

Your phone’s loud announcements echo through your bedroom while you’re brushing your teeth in the other room. You go to check what could be so urgent that he’s texting at almost midnight.

Please, come over

I need you.

No matter how late or unusual this is, you feel obligated to go help him. He never texts you this late, he's definitely not a night owl, and he’s your best friend. Your ride or die. You'd do anything for him, even if it meant ditching your plans to have a personal care night. So you start up your car and head over to Stevens place, thinking of the long hot bath that could’ve been.

Arriving at his door, you knock softly. Shuffling can be heard getting closer to the door of his flat and he unlocks it quickly. “You told me to come over? What's up?”

He immediately pulls you into a tight hug, making no effort to hide his tears

“Hey- don’t cry…” you hug him back tightly and he leans his head into your shoulder, sobbing loudly. You don't want to disturb his neighbors so you slowly walk forward into the small apartment to kick the door shut behind you. “You're okay. Shhh…I’m here”

Despite your efforts to calm him down, he continues sobbing into your shoulder, gripping your body tightly while trying not to be so loud. He was trying to get his breathing under control, but his efforts were failing him. You try to pull away from the hug but he doesn't want you to let go. He just holds you even tighter and buries his chin in the crook of your neck.

“Look at me-” you manage to get his face up and hold his cheeks in your hands. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, not wanting to tell you but it looked like he had something he wanted to get out.

Now you’re going to have to play the guessing game.

“Tell me what's wrong. Why are you crying…?” He takes a huge breath in, trying to contain the sobbing. He starts to mumble something but it's difficult to understand what he's saying. You wipe his tears with your thumbs “Speak up Steven…You know you can tell me anything right? Who hurt you?” His lips quivered as he tried to speak again, putting your ear against his face, trying to hear him better. He mumbles something about cheating and you realize he must mean Layla.

“Was it Layla?!” you say angrily

Welp. That was a mistake. Mentioning her triggered another round of crying. You roll your eyes “That bitch…I knew there was something off about her.”At least you guessed right first try. With the grip that he had on you, his arms were practically crushing you. His babbling was incomprehensible and the sobbing was louder. His eyes were puffy and red and you felt bad. Really bad. You haven’t seen him cry anywhere near this much before. Layla really did a number on him.

You always knew she wasn’t genuine about him. From the first moment you met her, you didn’t like her and she felt likewise about you. You constantly argued with each other and she always told Steven that one day he's going to have to choose—“Me or her, what's it gonna be Steven?!” and Steven wouldn’t choose. He’d just stay silent and he felt bad that layla was alway trying to start something with you

“Stevie, love, I need you to calm down. Breathe okay? In and out.”

Nodding his head at you, his grip loosens slightly as you guide his breathing and calm him down. He's somewhat able to control himself and stops crying but his face is still wet. The first words he says are “I’m sorry.” You know he’s quick to apologies, even when he’s not the one at fault.

“It’s okay, but I can't help you unless you tell me.”

He takes a deep breath in and says quietly “She was…she was kissing another guy…in our bed…” He looks down, avoiding your gaze. You felt a pang in your heart at what he said

“I’m so sorry you had to see that…did she say anything to you…?”

His tears start to fall again and his grip around your waist tightens once again, not yet ready to let go, and you caress his cheek.

“I'm right here…Talk to me.” At this point your shoulder is soaked and it's slightly hard to breathe because of the way he's clinging onto you.

He stutters. “She said that she d-didn’t care about me…that I was worthless, clingy—and I loved her s-so much…” Now he cries into your chest.

“I know Stevie I know, it's okay, Shhh…” You shush him as best you can, rocking his taller figure in your arms. “You don't need her. You never needed her, it's okay. You have me.”

He finally stops crying but his chest heaves. He starts to let go of you, nodding. “I’ll never leave you I promise” You whisper into his ear as he reluctantly removes his arms from your waist. He lets his arms go limp to his side with a sad look on his face.

“Did you eat anything yet?”

He shakes his head no, keeping quiet.

“Did you even shower?”

He shakes his head again. Gosh you think to yourself. He can’t even take care of himself. “Okay um…” you rub your forehead “You should go pack a bag for a few days. You're coming to stay with me.”

He seems surprised by your suggestion, although not in a bad way. “Really…?”

“Yes really. I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

He nods and goes to the other side of his flat, grabbing a bag and stuffing it with clothes and essentials while you wait near the front door. Five minutes later he comes back with a backpack on his back and a few other things in his arms.

“Okay come.” you both walk out the door, locking it and heading to the car. He follows behind you like a puppy, keeping behind you at a slightly slower pace. The car ride is quiet. Not an awkward silence but a comfortable one.

*****

When you reach the door to your house, you let Steven in first and he's greeted by your cat. He tilts his head in surprise as he rubs against his leg, but then smiles to himself. When he reaches down to pet him, he meows and walks towards me. “Hi baby, you missed me didn’t youuu” you pick him up and litter him in kisses, petting and spoiling him with scratches on his belly while he purrs. Steven watches as you baby your cat and talk to him in a high pitched voice. He thinks it's actually quite cute. You put the cat down after a few seconds and head to the kitchen.

“Can you lock the door for me?” You put your key up and open the fridge to heat up the rest of your dinner from earlier that evening for Steven and take out ice cream for yourself.

Steven nodded and locks the door, then leans his body against the doorframe of the kitchen

“You’re acting like you’re a stranger to my house” you chuckle “Go sit or something. And you can put your bag in my bedroom”

He mutters an “Oh” and walks toward your bedroom, Coming back out to the kitchen empty handed.

“Here’s your food” You slide over the plate to the side of the table he's sitting and he starts eating, but slower than usual. Usually he'd just immediately devour the food in front of him within minutes but with his mood affected, he's not like that anymore.

He finishes chewing his first bite and swallows it down, taking in a breath before speaking.

“Thank you…for letting me stay here…”

“It’s no problem. I would’ve stayed at your place but you know, the cat and gus, that wouldn’t have gone well…”

He chuckles “I know but still, I appreciate it anyways…You’re the only one who would’ve done this for me”

*****

Steven finishes the meal and asks “Did you make this?...It was really good”

You turn around from washing the dishes in the sink. “I did actually, thanks Stevie ” you speak over the running water, smiling to yourself at his compliment. Meanwhile, he looks away and blushes when you call him by his nickname. He loves when you call him ‘Stevie.’ ‘It's okay Stevie ,’ ‘Stevie come here,’ no matter what it was, you called him that all the time, more than his actual name.

You sigh after finishing the dishes and sweeping the kitchen. “I think I'm gonna head to bed soon. You can do whatever you want really. You know where everything is.”

After thinking over what you said, he speaks up. “Do you have a spare bed I could use? I don’t want to disturb you or invade your space”

He was always so thoughtful.

“Oh- no I’ll sleep on the couch and you'll sleep in my bed.”

He looks at you surprised that you’re willing to sleep on the couch alone just so that he can sleep on the bed. He shakes his head refusing. “No..n-no… you should sleep on the bed. I’ll stay on the couch.-”

“I want you to be comfortable”

“But I have a blanket and the couch is comfortable anyway-”

Sometimes a little too thoughtful…

You appreciate his concern but he's just making things difficult, although you know he doesn’t mean to.

“Steven.” you cut him off sternly and he knows you’re serious this time. You didn’t call him Stevie.

He flinches at the tone and volume of your voice and freezes. After a few seconds of silence he says “W-what…?”

You sigh and go lay down on the couch. He pauses for a few seconds—should he take the couch or your bed? He makes a final decision and takes the couch too.

“No, Steven. Get up.”

“No”

You roll your eyes at difficulty “If I sleep in the bed, will you sleep in the bed too?”

You plan on sleaking out of the room later on into the night when he falls asleep to go to the couch. He looks to you, considering the offer you had given him before he speaks up. “Yes. I will.”

You let out a sigh of relief. He’s like a child sometimes. “Okay fine. Whatever. Go take a shower. You need it”

He’s taken off guard by that comment, blushing in embarrassment. “Yeah, I probably do…”

He goes into the bathroom of your room, taking off his clothes and stepping into the hot shower. He feels the water hitting his skin and starts to relax a bit. Leaning against the wall, closing his eyes, trying to forget about the rough day he had.

*****

While Steven is in the shower, you undress yourself in your room, stripping away the clothes of your tiring day. You wrap yourself in a thin towel and sit on your bed, ready and waiting for the shower and entertaining yourself on your phone.

He’s out of the shower fairly quickly, within 10 minutes. He tries not to take up too much of your time because he already knows he’s starting to get you irritated.

He walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and hair damp. Damn does he look good, toned and muscular. To be honest he looks oiled up with how wet his body still is.

“It’s your tur-...” his words trail off and he pauses for a second in the doorway, staring at you from across the room. He looks like he's seen a ghost and it’s because of you—the way you’re sitting in your short, thin towel. It's riding up your thighs.

He tries so hard not to look at you as you get up because he knows it would be inappropriate to stare while you’re in nothing but your towel. I mean it was barely a towel really…

You hold it tightly around your body and the material is so thin the outline of your nipples slightly show through. His breath catches in his throat when he notices and Steven mutters to himself. “Oh my god..”

He can feel heat arising between his legs. “I-I’m finished…” He sure was about to finish. He stammers, trying to keep his eyes on your face and not your nipples, but fails miserably. “Okay” you reply, distracted by your phone. He moves from the doorway and you stand up from the bed, unaware of the effect you had on him.

As you walk towards the bathroom your ass almost shows from underneath the short towel and Steven goes red. He puts on a sweatshirt, towel still on his lower half and tries to think of other things, laying in the bed to distract his mind from thinking of your body. “I’ll be in the shower for about a half hour so don’t wait up for me okay?” you say over your shoulder. You close the door to the bathroom and get into the hot shower.

His mind was telling him one thing but his body is telling him another. Even though he tries to resist his urges, he’s losing the battle against himself. In the shower, you play soft music and hum along but by that point, he can’t resist his desires anymore. He starts to imagine what you’d look like naked, water dripping down your body, and hair wet.

He wonders what it’d be like to touch you…to feel your soft skin under his finger tips, and he finds himself getting hard under the towel. He feels so guilty for having those thoughts about you but he can’t help himself. You’re just…so…beautiful, and so caring to him. You show him love like no one else. He needed your presence to clear his mind from everything anyways. Maybe it would help with the stress too.

Since you’re going to be in the shower for a half-hour, he figures he’s just going to get this over and done with and you don’t have to know about it. He takes off his sweater and starts to massage himself through the towel, closing his eyes, imagining that you’re the one touching him. Steven groans and his pace is increasing. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, especially in your bed, but it feels too good to stop.

You scrub your arms with soap in the shower, still humming along to the song you played on your phone. All of a sudden you think you hear a groan and stop humming for a moment. Maybe I'm just hearing things… You think to yourself. He notices the absence of your voice and also stops, thinking that he's been found out. But when you continue again, completely oblivious, so does he.

He takes off his towel and finally puts his hand on his hard length with urgency. He can’t believe how turned on he is just by seeing you in your towel, knowing you’re naked underneath. Steven has seen you in low cut dresses that show half your chest, short skirts that expose your plump thighs, and nothing but his oversized shirts and the shortest shorts he's ever seen, and yea maybe he got flustered. Maybe he got turned on…a lot…But he’s never had the guts to please himself to the thought of you.

He moans louder, almost whimpering, your name falling from your lips. He needs to stop before he cums all over himself but he can’t stop moving his hand. He squeezes his eyes shut, mouth agape, and his legs shake as he reaches his climax. His cock throbs against his palm, shooting cum onto his stomach and chest. Steven pants, out of breath, feeling embarrassed and ashamed at what he just did. But at the same time, there’s a part of him that wants to do it again…

*****

You're still in the shower, scrubbing your legs, completely unaware that he was jerking off to you and cumming in your bed. The guilt is starting to eat away at him as he continues to stroke his cock, taking in your scent of you on the clothes you took off just before your shower. You’re all he can think about right now and he's not stopping. This time, he moans too loudly, loud enough for you to hear it clearly. When you stop humming to listen, he's too in his head to notice. You listen carefully. There it is again, that groan…You get out of the shower quickly, only drying your legs so you don't drip too much water everywhere. Concerned, you hastily wrap your towel around your chest and open the door of the bathroom.

You finally walk in the room looking worried. “Steven? Are you oka-” You stop in your tracks, water dripping on the floor from your still wet hands.

Steven sees you exiting the bathroom and his heart races, only this time from the fear of getting caught. He scrambles to cover up his mess with his towel. How could he have been so stupid. Now you’re going to think he’s some kind of pervert.

He looks at you with a mixture of shame and embarrassment. His face is red and he tries to pretend nothing happened but it's obvious. You see his legs still trembling and the cum on his chest, and he’s red and sweating.

You blush at the sight and stand there, stunned. You expected to see him hurt, not him fucking his hand and smelling your clothes… “Steven were you-” you struggle to get the words out. But he answers. “Yeah, I- I was-” he clears his throat, unable to meet your gaze. “In my bed?!” you cut him off, not angry but confused as to why he would do it in your bed

“Look I’m sorry, i-it won't happen again” He tries to sound sincere, but he can’t help the way his heart is racing for you or the bulge he’s covering in the towel. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to look at you. “I just-”

“You just what??”

“I just can’t stop thinking about you…” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. His heart pounds in his chest, and he wants nothing more than for you to understand.

“But you just got cheated on by layla-”

“I know but with everything that’s happened with her, what she did to me, I really just needed some kind of release…I thought that this would help me to feel less stressed, and after seeing you in that towel, basically naked, I couldn’t stop imagining you and you turned me on and I’m saying too much now, aren't I…I should shut up now.”

He rambles, desperately trying to explain himself to you

“I’m not trying to make excuses,” he says softly. “And I didn’t think it would be a big deal y’know, because you’d be in the shower for 30 minutes but you got out early…”

“I know Steven but-” you feel bad that he has to resort to this for stress relief and you walk closer, within arms reach.

“I know, I'm sorry, I’m so sorry…” his body still trembles slightly from the aftermath of his orgasm and the adrenaline rush of being caught.

“You’re the last person I have left, please don't leave me…I won’t get over her without you…” It's the truth but he doesn’t wanna admit it, especially with the mess he's made of himself

You reassure him.. “I already told you I’m not leaving you”

“Then please, give me another chance," he pleads, grabbing onto your hand. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. I just need you in my life right now…Please don’t push me away”

His pleading finally gets to you and you decide to help him.

“I’m not upset at you, I just wish you’d asked for help sooner…” your voice is filled with understanding, not resentment like he thought it would’ve been

“I should’ve…You’re right…Look I’ll do anything-”

“I’ll help you Steven. I’m not going to leave” Your skin is still damp from the shower

“Thank you” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly with emotion.

“Sit on the bed” He nods and listens to you, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, still holding your hand in his. “Take the towel off your lap for me” He didn’t know you meant help in that way.

“W-what…?”

You get on your knees in front of him

”I said take off the towel.”

you instructed him once again. He watches you get on your knees and he hesitates for a moment.

”You wanted my help didn’t you?” You say looking up at him from the floor

Steven nods slowly, unable to tear his eyes away from your damp chest

”Yes…” He removes the towel, letting it fall to the floor, revealing his semi-hard cock.

“Don’t be shy. I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbles.

You gently run your fingers over the head of his cock, coating it with his precum and his body jolts.

“I’ll do all the work. Don’t even lift a finger.”

He watches as you lean forward, your lips brushing against his swollen tip. It twitches in response and he groans at your touch, closing his eyes. Wrapping your hands around the base, you press kisses against it and start to work your hands and tongue.

He was already halfway to his orgasm because of his… previous actions.

You let the towel loosen around you and use your breasts to squeeze around his length. He couldn't help but yelp in surprise at the sudden pressure and the warmth that emanated from your still damp chest.

He swallowed hard as his hands trembled. “You like that, Stevie?” you say to him with a sweet, low voice.

Steven nods his head, looking down at you with half lidded eyes

There was no way he could form a cohesive response right now. All he could do was let out a strangled moan as the words caught in his throat. All he could do was feel; Feel the pleasure that your hands brought him, feel the ecstasy coil tight in his gut.

His hips jerked forward slightly, trying to chase the sensation as he muttered a string of incoherent words. His breath quickens at the sight of you–fondling your chest, squeezing them together up and down his length.

The way you control him is so intoxicating, he’d obey anything you ask of him.

You can tell he’s sensitive so you speed up your movements, making his hips buck involuntarily, hand reaching down to grip at your hair. This time take him down your throat completely, head bobbing up and down causing you to almost gag until tears form in the corners of your eyes.

Just then, you think of an idea and stop sucking for a moment.

“Please…Keep doing” he begs.

“Just wait for a second. Let’s text Layla.”

He looks down at you with a puzzled look on his face.

“S-sorry what…Why…?”

“I said let's text Layla. On your phone. I want her to know what she could’ve had so let's send her a message”

Still looking confused but complying with your request, he picks up his phone and opens it to the contacts until he gets to layla and gives it to you. You text Layla: ‘I know what you did.’

She surprisingly texts back.

‘So fucking what Steven?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry this isn’t Steven. I should’ve made that clear. He’s not available right now.”

‘Who is this??’

‘His best friend. You remember me right?’ The tone of your text sounds like you're almost taunting her.

‘Why the fuck do you have Steven’s phone??’

‘Because he’s a little…preoccupied at the moment’

You go back to talking to Steven

“Don’t say a thing unless I speak to you okay?” you say to Steven

You start a voice message

“Sure…?” He somewhat gets the gist of what you’re trying to do but he doesn’t realize it involves the embarrassment of Layla having to hear him moan…he doesn't realize it’s a voice message, not a text.

“Wait what are you-” When you begin to move your hands around his hard length again he lets out a deep moan. “Oh- bloody-” tears form in his eyes from the immense pleasure you’re giving him.

“Baby shhhh…you don’t wanna wake the neighbors do you?”

He nods and tries to stifle his moans

The phone records the voice message for 30 seconds. And for those thirty seconds, all that can be heard is the wet sounds of you sucking him off, moans of your name, and just as he’s cumming for the second time, the recording cuts off and sends to Layla.

He releases into your mouth with a loud moan, bucking his hips again, legs shaking violently. One hand grabs a fist full of your hair and the other grabs the sheets for stability. He came so hard he’s sure you sucked the soul out of him. He might’ve woken his neighbors too.

Layla: ‘are you fucking him?! I never thought you’d stoop so low… hoeing around like that…Fuck you and Steven’

You reply

‘You're a homewrecker, a whore, and a skank who cheats on good people so I don’t wanna hear shit from you.’

‘You have no right saying that to me-’ Three dots indicated that she was typing another message. Before she could send it you shut her up.

‘I'm not arguing with a bitch that's ran through. I hope you catch an STD.’

As Steven comes down from his high, you still stroke him slowly, already having swallowed his cum. It’s a good thing you’re good at typing with one hand.

Layla blows up his phone with text messages, the sound of notifications ringing through the room.

Once he’s able to speak again he keeps apologizing, letting go of your hair. “I’m so sorry- did I- I pulled your hair too hard didn’t I…I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay Steven, you didn’t mean to. You don’t have to apologize for enjoying yourself.”

“A-are you sure? I just-”

“Yes, Steven” He still looks slightly guilty

He smiles warmly at your understanding, heart still beating rapidly as he slows his breathing.

You fasten the towel around your waist and thighs a bit but it’s loose on around chest

“Thanks for… um… for helping me out…”

You smile and sit close to him, bare leg touching his.

“Of course Steven”

He smiles back at you before speaking again

“I… I really needed tonight. My week’s been pretty rough… and I’m just happy that tonight turned out the way it did… and that I got to spend it with you…”

You glance to his lips and he catches it.

He slowly inches his body closer to you, hand now gently resting on your leg, near your upper thigh. His eyes are fixed on your lips, as if he’s trying to decide whether or not to go lean in or pull back

“Steven I um-” he kisses you.

He seemed to surprise himself when he did

“I’m sorry… was… was that ok…” he says to you, his cheeks feeling hot now and his face going completely red.

Even you’re surprised at his boldness “yea I-“

He places his lips against yours in a soft, gentle kiss again—but this time he lets them linger yours before stopping, realizing he’s starting to get carried away. He can’t help but smile at your reaction.

Now you’re the one who’s embarrassed.

he looks away, laughing quietly to himself.

“Um… I’m sorry I- I didn’t mean to get that ahead of myself… I just-”

He looked back over to you before continuing

“I wanted to kiss you…again”

You chuckle lightly. “no it’s okay, that was…nice”

“That’s good… I’m glad”

He looks at your lips as he speaks, wanting to kiss you again.

“You still have a lot to learn tho…”

“Yeah I know… maybe we should practice-”

You put a finger on his lips stopping him from talking. “but not tonight. It’s been a long night, and I have work later, okay?”

He sighs softly, feeling disappointed that you’re refusing to let him kiss you more. However, he understands your reasoning and he simply nods his head.

“I’m gonna brush my teeth again and then clean off my chest so I can get to bed. You should clean off too cuz y’know…” you make a gesture to the cum on his own chest

He suddenly remembers his…current state. He looks down at his chest and realizes how messy it is.

“O-oh… yeah… okay, good idea…” he whispers as flusteredly

He quicky stood up from the bed and headed over to the bathroom to clean up

*****

After you’ve cleaned up and left the bathroom, he continued to stand there for a few more seconds, reflecting on your night together. It was just a few hours ago that you were his best friend and nothing more. But now… after only one night, you made him just about the happiest he’s ever been

A/N: Give me feedback in the comments as alwaysss. The angst will be posting soon after this. Like, repost, and leave requests to support!! And I PROMISE in the summer time, I wont keep disappearing 😭 School is finished now!!

[httpkaulitz]

could you write a fluff where the reader and Tom get into a fight and then he goes out and late he arrives drunk and she takes care of him? I love your write pookie <3

Drunk

PAIRINGS: Tom x Female reader

CONTENT: Fluff

SYNOPSIS: You take care of drunk Tom.

WARNINGS: none

You stared at the page of the book without actually reading the words. It had been hours since everything had happened, but the thoughts and memories still continued to run through your mind like a movie. You wanted to say that you weren't sad and that you hadn't cried, but you would be lying.

You and Tom always argued like every couple, and you always made up soon after. But this time was different. You exchanged very harsh words and you were both too hurt to try to understand each other.

Tom had left, slamming the door loudly after looking at you hurt.

You woke up to your cell phone ringing non-stop. Tom wasn't home yet so you decided to go to bed early to avoid any future arguments. You opened your eyes slowly, reached out clumsily to grab your cell phone from the bedside.

"Gustav? Did something happen?" You asked worriedly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You looked at the clock on the bedside and the red light was flashing 2:27 in the morning. Gustav would never call at this hour.

"Yes... can you open the door for me?" He sighed looking tired.

"I am going." You got out of bed and walked towards the door, stumbling a little on the way because of your sleep. You opened the door and Gustav had Tom leaning on his shoulder.

"My God what happened?" You quickly ran over to him helping him carry Tom to the couch.

"I don't know. He called me and I found him like this. It seems like he spent the day drinking, so the fight must have been for some stupid reason." Gustav said trying to make everything sound less than it really was. He knew you well enough to know that you wouldn't like the situation at all.

"Hey, you said you weren't going to bring me here." Tom mumbled in a slurred voice. Anyone could see that he was completely drunk.

"You, quiet." You said angrily pointing your finger at Tom's face.

"Don't point fingers at me. You shouldn't even open the door dressed like that." He shouted, blatantly looking at your body, smiling.

You were so worried about the possibility that something serious had happened to your friend that you didn't even bother to change your clothes. The nightgown was a completely short blue dress and showed more than it should. You just rolled your eyes and turned your attention to Gustav.

"Sorry, you didn't need to waste your time bringing this idiot. You could have left him on the street." You said taking Gustav to the door. He looked at you with a warning look even though he knew you weren't serious.

"I know... it's just that I had a very long day, which apparently isn't over." You look at the sofa and see Tom try to get up, grimace in pain and fall back into his seat.

"Do you need help with him?" Gustav asked worriedly.

"No, you've already helped enough." You almost laughed at your friend's relieved expression. "You can take his car, you won't walk home because of a drunk." You shouted the last part so Tom could hear and he mumbled a bunch of incomprehensible things making Gustav laugh.

"Thanks, don't be too hard on him. Good night." He hugged you, already heading towards the exit.

"Don't defend him." You complained, moving away from Gustav who laughed in his face. "Good night, be careful on your way home."

You took a deep breath and walked over to the couch. Tom was still the same way you and Gustav had left him, he tried to get up a few times, but gave up when he realized he couldn't do it alone.

"Let's go." You said more to yourself than to Tom. You pulled him by his arms, helping him get up, put one of his arms around your neck and started walking towards the bedroom.

"Okay, just a little more." You whispered with difficulty as you lost your balance and hit one of the walls in the hallway.

When you arrived in the room, you let go of Tom, who fell back onto the bed, pulling you with him. He leaned up trying to kiss you but you pulled away.

"Stop it, Tom." You said pushing him away.

Tom held you against him until you stopped trying to get away. "You look really pretty dressed like that." He said, lowering one of the straps of the nightgown and letting it hang on your shoulder.

"And you're really drunk." You looked at Tom, he had the same wolfish smile, but his mouth was swollen and a large purple spot was starting to form in the corner. You let go of his arms, finally managing to stand.

''You would look prettier without any clothes on.'' Tom whispered, sitting up and trying to grab you by the waist.

''Tom, stop it. Take off your clothes and lie down on the bed.'' You pushed his hands away, taking a deep breath. You were still upset about the fight earlier, but there was no point talking about it now.

''That's what I'm talking about.'' He said, laughing and tugging at the hem of his nightgown.

You rolled your eyes, slapping Tom's hand away. You rested your knee on the mattress and pulled Tom's shirt over his head.

''Don't even think about sleeping until I'm done.'' You mumbled, noticing his sleepy state.

''I'm not sleepy.'' He replied, with a drunken wave.

You unbuckled his belt with a quick movement. ''You're good at that.'' He said smiling, Tom raised his head to look at you who was completely serious and focused on your work.

''Shut up.'' You said irritably, unbuttoning his jeans and moving them down his legs. You threw it to the ground and stood with your hands on your hips, breathing heavily.

''Come on.'' You pulled his hands trying to lift him up.

''Where are we going?'' He asked confused.

'No way you're going to sleep next to me stinking of alcohol.'' Tom just grumbled in response without wanting to get out of bed.

''Come on, Tom.'' You sighed, dragging him to the bathroom.

He grumbled again, doing nothing to help. In the best case scenario, he ended up putting more weight on you.

''Stay here, I'll turn on the shower.'' You said, placing Tom on the toilet.

You turned on the shower, changed it from hot to cold and waited for the water to change temperature. You felt Tom wrap his arms around your waist and press your body against his.

''Can't you stay quiet even when you're falling down drunk?'' You asked, not expecting an answer.

''Are you still mad at me?'' Tom asked when you moved his arms away from your waist.

''You hate me now.'' Tom said in his drunken state pouting.

''I'm sure I don't hate you.'' You said laughing and turning to look at Tom, he had taken off his underwear and was now completely naked. You quickly looked up at Tom's face, which was smiling smugly.

''Don't pretend you don't like what you see.'' He smiled, naughty. You smiled and pushed Tom under the shower.

He grunted when he felt the cold water and tried to get out, but you pushed him back under the water.

''It's cold.'' He complained.

''This will help with your drunkenness, and you'll thank me tomorrow.'' After a while more listening to Tom complain about the cold water, and other things that you didn't understand because he spoke so quietly. You turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist.

''I'm not sleepy.'' Tom complained as you put him in bed and covered him with the duvet.

''Tom please, it's early in the morning and today was very stressful, just be quiet, okay?'' You asked softly, walking away towards the hallway, but Tom held your hand and pulled you back.

''Will you sleep here with me?'' He asked sleepily, already snuggling into the soft covers. There were few times that you slept apart after a fight.

''Do you think I would not sleeping in my comfortable bed because of you?'' You raised an eyebrow seeing Tom smile at your sarcastic tone.

''Smart girl.'' He whispered letting go of your hand.

You walked to the living room to get your cell phone, Gustav had left messages saying he had arrived home safe.

You looked at the time on your cell phone screen 03:15am. You was exhausted, confused and stressed. You walked back to the room and found Tom already asleep. His body was sprawled out on the bed, his head tilted to the side and from the messy state of the bed you knew he had moved a lot until he found a comfortable position.

The duvet had come down leaving his body exposed, the light coming in through the window was enough for you to enjoy the view of his subtle and completely perfect muscles. You felt your face heat up and you knew you were blushing, when your eyes traveled further down his torso, following the trail, eagerly, as if it were a map that would lead you to the pot of gold.

''Stop it, you're still mad at him.'' You whispered to yourself pushing away your lewd thoughts. You put the cell phone on the bed, and pulled the blanket covering Tom's body.

As soon as you lay down next to him, he brought his body closer to yours, hugging you around your waist. You smiled as you watched him sleep peacefully. You guys would be fine.

[melanieph321]

Gabriel Medina x Reader - Untamable Part 3/8

Part 1 Part 2

Reader spends the summer with her first love, Gabriel Medina, for him to get a chance to know their three year old son. However, both Reader and Gabriel struggle to keep their feelings at bay.

Enjoy!

You and Gabriel worked out this co-parenting thing nicely. Once you trusted him enough to take care of Nemo by himself, you saw no reason why he couldn't stay in Maresias for the day. At least while you helped your grandmother with the maintenance of her house as it was beginning to fall apart.

"Vovó, what do you even need a golf set for?" You stumbled upon them while navigating through her overflowing garage.

"They were your Avô's. He would've hated for me to get rid of them, even though he never played golf."

"And the second car? Does it even start these days?"

"It just needs a little fine-tuning. Most of the things in here do."

She got that right. There were piles and piles of junk in your grandmother's garage. However, another man's junk was another man's treasure.

"These surfboards, for example." She walked over to where they stood leaning against the wall. "I can get good money for these. They just need a little polishing. Can't your Papai Açúcar help us with that?"

"Please Vovó." You chuckled. "Don't call Gabriel that." 

"What? Is he not your Papai Açúcar? The way he has been treating you and my dearest great grandchild makes me believe that he is."

It's true. In the past, Gabriel's presence in your son's life was only noticeable in the checks he sent you for food and clothing. You weren't complaining, though, since it was a very generous check, enough to pay your rent and your courses at university. But you've come to realize that Gabriel's presence in Nemo's life had more value than money could ever possess

"Well, things are different now." You mumbled. "He's different."

"Yeah right."

"Yes." You made your way over to the surfboards. "I'm sure he would help us sell these. Matter of fact, I'll take them to him right now."

You were already on your way to pick up Nemo. Hopefully, the day went well. You wouldn't know since Gabriel was not the texting type. And it was a bit alarming pulling up to his house, with no one answering the doorbell to the luxurious estate.

Peeking through the castle-like windows, you spotted some of Nemo's toys lying around on the floor. However, no Nemo or Gabriel were anywhere to be found. Your instincts told you to go down to the beach just behind the house, and to your relief there they were, Gabriel, in the water playing with Nemo.

"Hey Rico." You joined the man sitting in the sand, watching them.

"Ah, Amoreco! Come vai?" (How is it going, love?)

Rico was Gabriel's personal trainer, a short but buff man with an aggressive bowl cut. Much like Gabriel's other surfer buddies, he had a back full of tattoos, the meaning of them incomprehensible to you. Nonetheless, he was an old friend of your brother, and like Gabriel, you had known him all of your life.

"Have you come to watch the show?"

You looked towards the water, where Gabriel had gone to put Nemo down, allowing him to splash his little feet. "What are they doing?"

"What do you think?" Rico smiled. "Poseidon must teach his children his ways."

"Huh?"

"Gaby is teaching your son how to surf."

"What?"

"Yes. But first he must get used to the rough ways of the sea."

"Nah-uh! Over my dead body he is." 

You stood and marched down towards the water. There was simply no chance in hell that you'd let Gabriel teach your son the root to all of your problems in life. No chance in hell.

"Gabriel!" You reached the shore as he turned around.

"Y/N? You're early."

"Mama!" Nemo happily squealed. 

You ignored him, your narrowed gaze piercing Gabriel's. "Whatta hell do you think you're doing, teaching my son how to surf?"

"What? I can't hear you?"

Large waves crashed in the background, with more incoming in the distance, the noise draining the sound of your voice. However, Gabriel seemed to understand your distress by the look on your face.

"Get...Nemo...out of the water!" You shouted.

Gabriel did so, grabbing his surfboard that drifted on the surface. "Why, what's wrong?" He walked towards you, Nemo in his arms. Your eyes fell upon his lean torso and the muscles shifting with his every movement.

"You are what's wrong Gabriel. " You said, raising your head.

"Me?"

"Yes, you." You hurried to unhand him your son, his skin cold, teeth rattling. "Look at him. He's freezing." You wrapped Nemo's body in the sleeve of your knitted sweater. He was only wearing a pair of oversized boardshorts. BOARDSHORTS!

"Y/N, relax."

"Don't tell me to relax. For how long were you in the water for? Don't you know that children catch colds easily?"

Gabriel regarded you with concern. He then waved for Rico to bring forth a towel. The man did so in a hurry, handing it over to you.

"I'm sorry Y/N, I wasn't thinking—" 

"Of course you weren't. You never think about anyone but yourself."

Gabriel's eyes widened, shifting back to Rico, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't just stand there, help me get him inside."

He led the way, surfboard tucked underneath his arm. Once inside of the house, Gabriel made sure to light the fireplace that burned well into the night, keeping Nemo warm and cozy.

"Do you want something to eat Y/N? I'm about to order us some pizza."

"No, thank you, Rico." You were quite comfortable where you sat next to the fire, perfectly immobile. Nemo sat before you on the floor, watching TV and playing with his toys. 

"How about one for the little guy?"

"He can't have pizza." You frowned.

"Of course not." 

Something about the grin on Rico's lips told you that Nemo has had pizza served to him before. You'd have to take it up with Gabriel, educate him on your son's daily meal plans.

Somewhere in the distance the doorbell rang, followed by a loud commotion in the hallway.

"That would be Sophia." Rico sighed and correctly predicted the entrance of Gabriel's little sister. However, she wasn't as little anymore.

"Y/N, you're here!" The young girl rushed across the living room to give you a hug, her long hair draping over your face like a vail. "Oh my god, I haven't seen you in like forever. How are you?"

"Sophia....you've grown." 

Her hair smelled of lavender and sea salt. A welcoming smell. Sophia was well into her teens now, a disturbing reminder that you were well into your teens the last time that you saw her.

"Yes, I can't believe I'm an aunty now." She said excitedly. "Remember the times you used to babysit me?"

"Please don't remind me."

Although her body had matured, Sophia still had the same babyface and youthful smile, much like Gabriel's. They were each other alike.

"Well, my friend and I thought we'd come over and help my brother babysit Nemo again since it went so well the last time I was here."

"Oh...it did? I had no idea." Your eyes drifted towards the young blond girl standing in the doorway. She was curiously watching you and Nemo. Nemo, who was still in his own little world, playing on the floor.

"Come, Luana, say hello to my nephew. He's really funny." Sophia went to pick him up, twirling Nemo around in her arms until his laughter echoed throughout the living room.

"It's such an honor to meet you, Mrs Medina, I had no idea that Gabriel had a wife, let alone a son."

"Erm....Come again?"

Sophia's friend had dared to enter the room, but instead of joining Sophia and Nemo, she approached you, politely offering to shake your hand.

"It doesn't say much about your relationship with Gabriel in the media. But my sister tells me that the two of you are trying to keep things a secret from the world."

"Your sister? And who is—"

"Lulu, please." Sophia stopped spinning Nemo, pinning him to her hips. "I only said you could come along if you didn't ask so many questions again."

"Right, right. My apologies."

Sophia rolled her eyes but moved on from the subject rather quickly. "Where is my brother?" 

"Basement." Rico said, stumbling back into the living room with a pizza carton in his hand.

"Well, what is he doing down there?"

"Probably hiding?" He chuckled, glancing at you. 

"Well tell him to come back upstairs. He promised that we were going to—"

"I'll tell him." You volunteered, hesitantly so.

"Oh, okay." Sophia nodded. "It's movie night. I was thinking that Nemo and I pick what film to watch, while Rico hook us up with snacks and refreshments. Gabriel was supposed to set up the theater outside. Maybe you can do that as well, Y/N?"

"Erm...sure."

"But..." Her friend squealed.

"Lulu." Sophia gritted. "She's headed downstairs anyway. You'll help Rico with the snacks."

"Fine." She sighed, glaring at you rather stiffly. You didn't think much of it, though, and headed downstairs towards the basement, which was more like a studio, if anything. It was neatly furnished with a number of photos on the walls, photos of Gabriel surfing. There were also loads of trophies, some of them stocked on shelves while others lay piling up inside large cardboard boxes. It was all very impressive, you thought. Gabriel was really living the dream as a professional surfer. A dream that your brother would have loved to achieve.

"Gabriel?"

You came around the corner and found him bent over a table, inspecting a surfboard that lay on top of it. He lifted his head, confirming that it was indeed you that was heard coming down the steps. The last person on earth that he wanted to talk to right now. On top of that, he was still shirtless, sweat dripping down the hill of his muscles as he worked on the board.

"Your sister is here." You spoke timidly. "She says that you've promised her some kind of movie night?"

Gabriel nodded his head. "Tell Sophia that I'll be right there."

"Right." You stood weighing on your heels. "She wants me to help you set up some kind of theater out in the backyard."

Gabriel lifted his head again regarding you skeptically. "She wants you to help me?"

"While yes. Don't you think I'm capable?"

Gabriel snorted his answer, returning his attention back to the surfboard. You kind of deserved it, the cold shoulder that he was giving you.

"Look, Gabriel...." You sighed, stepping closer to where he stood. "What I said on the beach—"

"It's okay Y/N, I know you meant every word."

"I did, but they weren't supposed to come out like that, not in that moment at least."

"Right." He reached for a tool on the wall, something to help smoothen the edges of the board.

"You're right, those words weren't meant to come out at all."

"And still they did." Gabriel rested his hands on the table, regarding you with slight amusement in his eyes. "Y/N, I get that I've done things in the past that would make you not want to trust me again. But if you've already made up your mind about who I am as a man, let alone as a father to our son—"

"I haven't." You shook your head. "I promise that I haven't...made up my mind."

He did not seem convinced. "I don't get it. Why can't I teach my own son how to surf? Because that's the real issue, no?"

Your lips pressed into a thin line. "Yes."

"But why?"

You frowned. "What do you mean why?"

"Yeah, tell me why you suddenly hate surfing so much? You were one of the best surfers I knew growing up."

"Gabriel."

"No, Y/N. I want you tell me why. It can't be because of Nemo's age, the two of us were practically born in the water. And if I remember correctly, didn't your mother—"

"Please Gabriel." You shut your eyes, preventing the tears from escaping.

"Fuck...I'm sorry. I didn't mean...."

You turned your back on him, quickly wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. 

"Hey." Gabriel's hand tugged at your waist, pulling you towards him. "Hey, don't cry."

His skin was warm against your face. He swayed you his arms, the sound of his heartbeat slowly drumming in your ear.

"You miss them a lot, don't you?"

"More than anything." You sniffled. "To think that Nemo will never get a chance to meet—"

"Hey..." Gabriel gathered your face in his hands, your cheeks pressing softly against his palms. "Nemo has got Vovó. He's got my parents, Rico's parents and not to mention Sophia. He's got a whole village looking after him. It's up to you to let them all in."

You got lost in his gaze. Gabriel's dark eyes that seemed to carry an infinite depth. It's what you loved the most about him. That and his gentle touch.

"What?" He smiled, seeing as you were smiling too. 

"Nothing. I guess I just thought of something funny."

"Which was...."

"Nothing, it was just something random."

"Don't leave me hanging now, I want in on the joke." He let go of your face, but did not let you escape from him.

"Well, if you must know, your sister brought a friend, Luana, I think her name was. Nevertheless, she called me your wife."

"She did?"

"Yes, she called me Mrs Medina, which is crazy since that is what I used to call your mother." 

It sent shivers down your spine just thinking about that woman. Especially when Gabriel mentioned her amongst the people to let into your son's life. His mother would never be one of them. Not after the horrors she put you through in the past.

"But you are..." Gabriel said, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"I am what?"

"My wife."

"Pardon me." You laughed. A gut wrenching laugh that almost made you choke. "I am not your wife Gabriel, we never even...." A flash from your past entered your mind. It was from the day Nemo was born. Gabriel wasn't there, only your grandparents and....Gabriel's mother. 

"I won't let you take him home unless you marry my son." She said, "It is already enough that you've tried to trap Gabriel with this baby. His career will not be shattered by a scandal. You will marry him or I'll see to it that you'll live your life out on the streets where you belong."

The memories from that day came and went, but the pain of his mother's words still carved its way into your heart, posing it.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

You winced with Gabriel's touch. 

He backed off immediately.

"We're still married." You gasped. That day had been a cluster of your dreams, until now.

"It's why I wrote you." He nodded.

"W...what?"

"I thought enough time had passed without the two of you being in my life. I knew that my mother kept in contact with you throughout the years, making sure that you and Nemo had everything you needed. But it was time for me to step up and take care of business myself."

"Business?" You frowned. "Is that all we are to you, business?"

"Come on. You know that's not what I meant."

"But we are." You nodded. "Because you never even cared about us up until now. It was your mother, sending those checks out all along. Not you."

"Y/N, I think you're misunderstanding what I'm—"

"No, Gabriel. I understand perfectly that this summer and those letters were all about you making peace with yourself, not us."

"Hey, at leats I'm owning up to my mistakes."

"Not being man enough is not a mistake, Gabriel. It's a choice. A choice that you made the day you decide to go on tour, surfing, instead of witnessing the birth of your own child."

"Y/N, wait!"

He shouted for you in vain. You returned upstairs with heavy steps, only to be met by an audience who probably heard everything that just unfolded downstairs.

"Amoreco...." 

"Not now, Rico."

It was not your proudest moment, especially seeing the look on Sophia's face when you snatched Nemo from her. You left Gabriel's house with no intention of coming back. You were so rallied up by the fight that you failed to notice the surfboards missing from the roof of Vovó's car.

Part 1 Part 2

[vivelareine]

I’m really sorry that people jump to conclusions about you being a royalist. You seem to be quite nice and your posts are informative.

And it’s true that clergy and aristocracy at large benefitted from the rigged system. Also apparently the economy was already screwed up before, but Frev just had this specific set of precursor circumstances that lit up the powder keg, which was going to blow up eventually.

There is definitely a discussion to be had about all the nuances here, as Frev is a complicated subject.

Thank you! People can be... something, that's for certain.

I love nuanced discussions! I think they're especially fascinating when it comes to this era.

Like I love the fact that we can discuss how Marie Antoinette was personally charitable and kind, but that her personal charity and kindness existed in this almost incomprehensible vacuum of extreme wealth vs poverty.

To use an example I talked about on Twitter, there was an assistant gardener for the hameau de la reine who became ill shortly after being hired, and Marie Antoinette ended up spending almost 2000 livres (a hefty sum--the annual salary of the head gardener was considered a respectable 1500 livres per year, with room and board) on his medical care alone. When it became clear he would not regain his health, she paid for him to return home to England, with a large sum so he could set himself up somewhere.

This assistant gardener's annual salary, had he stayed to work at Versailles? 50 livres, which did include room and board, but still, 50 livres per year.

Now to take an EXTREME example, the infamous bracelets that Marie Antoinette purchased and her mother harassed her over cost 250,000 liveres. It would take 5000 years of this assistant gardener's salary to buy a pair of bracelets that she purchased on a whim. (Now this is an EXTREME example, because everyone considered these bracelets horrendously expensive and extravagant, and it was purchased during her short yet very significant 'wilder' days.)

So it's this fascinating contrast of, her being personally kind and thinking nothing of making sure he had medical care and personally seeing to it that he's not just kicked out of France with nothing and no way to live... and realizing that this personal kindness and compassion existed within this system of massive inequality.

It reminds me of the scene in Ever After (listen I will use any excuse to bring the movie up) where Danielle-in-disguise, after the prince frees the servant from the cart taking them to be indentured servants until they die: "You gave one man back his life, but did you even glance at the others?"

And not in the sense that I think Marie Antoinette would have been like "free this one man!" and ignored everyone else, but the sense that she gave charity, compassion, cared for others, paid for the upkeep of various families and watched over their children's well-being etc etc on a personal level... but she did not comprehend the need for systematic change outside of that very limited scope.

Re; Nuance...

Nuance gets lost a lot, on both sides.

IMO, I don't think people should expect to be taken seriously when talking about history if they are either huffing and puffing about Marie Antoinette being a bitch tyrant who got what she deserved, or if they're wringing their hands and saying Louis was perfect and the revolutionaries were devil worshipers who are burning in hell for daring to revolt.

(And like, I GET... if you just glance at my blog, you might go, oh wow, this person is really Marie Antoinette themed. Must be one of those people who thinks her life was the Sofia Coppola movie. But if you think that and you haven't bothered to read my blog or any of my social media, don't come up at me with some random BS like that and expect to be taken seriously. It's basic common sense and respect.)

[wishluc]

hello miss asa! i was hoping you would consider my request: lilia taking care of a sick darling? i'm feeling very under the weather right now, and i'm just aching for lila to nurse me back to health <3 (i adore how you write him, so delightfully evil <3)

Awe anon :( wishing for your speedy recovery!

✧ CW: yandere character,

"Oh my," Lilia's cold hand brushes away some hair that had fallen over your forehead, "you're burning up," The way he says your name, oddly apathetic despite your state and the slight twitch of his lips makes you frown and sink down further into your bed.

Maybe he should try harder to appear concerned—not that he wasn't; there was genuine worry laced in his words—but the bitter taste of betrayal is still fresh in his mouth, and the displeasure that shuddered through him when he found you standing painfully close to your friend hasn't left him completely. Besides, he glances over to your figure, collapsed onto your sheets, you're clearly not in any state to be thinking too deeply about the off-putting smile and the hardness in his gaze.

Your reply is an incomprehensible garble, but by the tone of your voice, Lilia can already tell that you were protesting his aid, insisting he go back to his dorm. It was just like you to do that, even though it was clear from the tissues littering the floor and the circles under your eyes that you were hardly able to get by without him. Besides, your condition wouldn't ease up for a few more days, and this would serve as the perfect opportunity to spend some time together—something he wasn't able to do with you for a while already.

"Now, now," his airy laugh fills the room, and his hand goes to gently pinch at your cheek, "how could I leave you alone in this state? You forget that I've done this countless times before. I promise it's no bother."

He smiles at you again, light and easy, reminding you that despite the cracks in his exterior, he was still your ever-caring senior. His fingers caress your sweltering cheek before he makes his way around your room, cleaning up as he goes. Lilia talks to you, ignoring your dazed state, about his meeting with the music club, and how SIlver had fallen asleep mid-potion again. He doesn't mention Jamil, whose cooking you were complimenting the other day, jealousy still coiled around his heart. He rapidly flits around your room, flipping through your books and papers, staring uncomfortably long at the tart Trey had left you earlier before swiftly tossing it into the bin with all your other trash—even if you wanted to eat it, you couldn't have protested in your current state—and picked up your haphazardly thrown coat with a soft chuckle. Even your messes were endearing.

"I don't know how this happened" you mutter, cradling a cup of water in your hands, "I just woke up sick."

"Humans are so sickly," Lilia sighs, "Silver fell ill quite often too. But something about your demeanor tells me there's more to it than a simple illness. Almost like..."

He waits for you to take the bait, though he's tempted to just lean over and caress your cheek and whisper in your ear about how it had been quite some time since he last used this curse and how he carefully ensured that it shouldn't drain you off all your energy and leave you a corpse, but you wouldn't take well to that, even in your current state. Instead, he stays exactly where he is.

"What else...?"

Red eyes stare at you, void of any emotion. Lilia's mouth is set in a stern line, not allowing for an inch of familiarity, and slowly, he cocks his head to the side, his gaze narrowing and eyes gleaming. Your face looks almost as delightful as it did when he had you trapped during Beanfest, taking in shallow breaths and watching him warily. How cute; you were so utterly, helpless.

"It must be a curse," Lilia finally declares, pulling away so quickly that it shocks you, "there's no other explanation for your awful state. I wonder who you've upset so to get such a nasty little thing latched onto you..."

"A curse?"

"Mmm," he shakes his head, feigning concern, "I do believe it was that Pomefiore student you were studying with. They're quite good with their curses, aren't they?"

He expects to hear some words of defense, but to his surprise, you're uncharacteristically silent. He wonders if his earlier ministrations scared you after all.

You don't meet his eyes, "Can you remove it?"

Lilia takes a moment to really look at you; weariness set in so deep that you look depleted of any life, voice listless and distant and eyes drawn to the ground. At this rate, you'd hardly be able to get up and get yourself some water.

"Removing it is a simple matter," Lilia reassures you, "but you probably won't be able to take the stress of it. I think you should rest for a little while first. Don't worry," a small spell to put you to sleep is on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be said, but his soft smile gives nothing away, "I'll be right here when you wake up."

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

[luridon]

Imago Dei

A story of zealotry and bugs.

Or: Could you love a worm?

♡characters: yandere!bug x  deity!reader

♡warnings: MINORS DNI, bugs, blood, cannibalism, murder, obsession, gore, animal death, eldritch themes where YOU are the incomprehensible horror, religious themes, body horror, suicidal thoughts in an I have no mouth and I must scream kinda way, no smut but this is probably worse than smut honestly,  MINORS DNI

♡notes: Buggy People. Bug themes. Fantasyish bug world. Arachnophobes and entomophobes beware. You guys know the adventure time episode with tiny people on a separate plane of reality/existence that's sort of the logic we're operating on. This is the inverse of the "would you love me if I was a worm" meme because the worm comes first here. Does this count as bestiality is that what this is?? Ehh this is xenofiction ish this is FINE everything's FINE we don't have to psychoanalyze this we're all FINE this is all in good fun wtf did I write this

♡w/c: 2k+ | ♡masterlist♡ |

You chose him from the swarm.

You were a thing he could not comprehend, a being so vast his kind's vision was simply incapable of perceiving them in their entirety. You, in comparison, had an eye was so great you saw all his kin at once. You saw the lands beyond, their deep caverns and glass-castled cities, their seas-

And you saw him, an insignificant creature among many. A weak worm writhing among his brethren in the dirt. Your silver claws descended, and you plucked his prone form from the slums of his nest.

The elders had whispered of godkin and cruelty, of their favored being fed the still-squirming flesh of his kind. It was of little concern to him, a young thing starved and cold. He thought only of hunger. If not that, then of an end. . .but that end did not come.

For a moment and an eternity, you tended to him. You brought fresh fruit to his maw, the pulp dripping with sweet nectar. Though hesitant, his hunger won, and he ravenously tore into the meal. He was cradled in flesh soft and warm as he fed, and he could feel your lifeblood pulse beneath the plane of it. Slowly, he had his fill of the nectar, and he regained his strength.

Your great eye gazed upon him through it all. A low sound murmured all about him, and the maw that could have so easily devoured everyone he knew in a bite bared strange ivory fangs. He could do nothing but bare his own black fangs, to try and understand-

And that was his mistake. 

The world fell.

Once again, he was upon the meager dirt, only now his belly was full. He shifted about, but your warm hold was gone, so too was your gaze.

Your favor had ended as quickly as it came. You had vanished from the skies beyond, from the everything in his small, lowly world.

No matter what he asked of the elders or his peers, none could say what had happened.

Why would godkin care for us?  they scoffed, if they even believed in gods to begin with. You imagined things in your delirium. Banish these strange dreams from you head, child. They will only plague you.

Plagued indeed. He was haunted by your strange act. Why had you done so? Why had you shown kindness to such an insignificant creature, a runt fit to only to be torn apart by the rest of his nest when he'd finally keel over and die?

He could not understand.

He wanted to understand.

He wanted to feel that warmth, that gaze that found him worthy, taste that nectar, sweet and cool, hear that soothing god-tongue, even if he could not discern a word. Nothing but a daydream, whispered the nest, but he knew-

You were real. The stories of godkin must have come from somewhere. He would seek you, and understand.

To do so required sacrifice.

To survive, one needed strength. For strength, one needed sustenance, and in the nest, there was no better fare than flesh still fresh and bleeding.

Those the godkin favored fed upon lower beings, so the stories went.

As he tore into the flesh of those he felled, he thought the tales true. The tenderness of their bodies filled him with strength, and he felt something stirring within him with every dripping mouthful.

There were whispers of the power to change. Even the weak could grow strong. Even worms could grow wings and horns and armor.

A vain hope, some would say, clicking their fangs with disdain, delighting in small, pitiful pleasures. We are all destined to die as we are. Is it not lovely, to die as we are?

You did not let him die. He must have been destined for more.

He grew larger, and braver. From the deceased he went to hunt weaklings, then the hale, than the strong. Their cries were heeded no more than their scorn. Their blood wet his maw, their flesh filled his stomach.

They must have believed in gods then. They must have believed in you, for they were within him, a part of him, and he believed in you. Gods like worship, no? Now a whole nest sought you as he did.

Still, you did not appear.

The offering must not have been grand enough. It was a gift so paltry, of course it was unworthy of your attention. What did you seek then? Is there anything you could desire? What would it take to win your favor once more?

He despaired in the ravaged nest, and full and a weary from the fight and the feast, he fell into a deep sleep.

There are rumors of a beast.

One that devoured towns, one that ruined kingdoms led even by the great queens of earth and nectar. Walls of crystal and mazes deep could not save their people. Claw and venom, stinger and wing- none could halt the monster.

It would come and conquer, feasting upon the fallen. It was horrible sight, a beast with armor, and wing, and venom- a creature that seemed to take into itself all the powers of those it fed upon. It persisted through cycles and seasons beyond those of mortal beings. It was unkillable, unstoppable.

Only those who spoke of godkin would live. Only those who proclaimed a devotion for the same entity it worshipped were spared.

The rumors spread until they ceased to be mere tales, because the beast was met, or the scoffers perished.

To survive, a cult rose in the monster's wake. Feigned following though it be, the masses were desperate to avoid the beast's wrath. The number of devoted grew, and grew, and grew, and fearing more power to the beast, fearing their own consumption by its fangs or its frenzied swarm, the rulers of nests gathered and one dared to ask the beast what it sought.

A fool's errand, a lover's folly, the ramblings of a lunatick. Still, cooperation was sworn, and scholars all across the soils and skies toiled to bring its god to the land. But how terrible a god it must be- for a such a zealot to be its first follower.

A spell of summoning was found, and alongside it. . . a spell of change. To bring god-kin to their lowly realm would only spell doom for them all. A fragile vessel then, to hold their mind, their essence. Something to placate its gluttonous fiend without ending everything as it did.

The beast knew nothing of the schemes of the fearful rulers. Through much sacrifice, at last the power to bring the god-kin was ammassed.

And so it was.

What a terrible thing it was, a god, or whatever portion was snatched of one, forced into the form of one of scaled winged and thin-limbed. Something so vast could not be made so small so easily. Wings twisted with flesh and fat, eyes all about it. It thrashed in its new form, it wept and bled-

But that mattered little.

A godkin was brought low, and the beast was appeased. There was peace in the realm, and the people rejoiced.

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

You wake in pain, with senses stolen and an inexplicable wrongness about you. You can move, but nothing moves right. You can see, but your sight is strange. You try to call for help-

There is nothing you can say. You cannot feel your tongue or teeth, or lips, or throat, or anything at all where your mouth should be. A nightmare, a bout of sleep paralysis, a terrible dream is all it is-

You hope that's all it is. You hope in vain.

The world trembles and so do you. You try to bring a hand to your face but find it wrong, find scales and segments over your skin and the color is wrong the texture is wrong everything is wrong-

Your joints feel too low, or too high, your body too light and too heavy. There are heavy masses at your back and like a reflex when they strike something, you lurched forward and they unfurl in a most uncomfortable, off-putting matter. New nerves, your limbs, what is happening to you-?

You feel claws spined and sharp take what should have been your hands. You hear things you could not comprehend yet do- chitters and shutterings, clicking sounds all about filtered through your head as whispers and meaning. The world is too dark yet you can't shut or open your eyes. You need to breathe but can't feel lungs, yet everything smelled. Too strong, too clear, of food, of flesh, of flowers, of soil-

Too much, it is too much-

Your new form grants you one small mercy.

You fall asleep.

You do not know how long you've been here.

A strange, dark place. A burrow, a nest, one with a bed strewn with leaves and petals and silks for a bed. You move little. You do not want to, when every movement reminds you of what you are now.

You hate the dark of it, the cloying scent of decay and earth, the silence.

But you hate the figure beside you more.

It has a terrifying visage, one barely human the way the other few faces you've seen are, the way your own feels like beneath your horrible clawed, scaled hands. It's more buglike than anything, mandibles and chitin and eyes too big and dark. You are one of them now, likely. You have not dared to look.

The figure hums. It's a soft thing, almost a soothing croon, but you loathe it all the same. It's no human sound. There is no human here, not even you.

It sounds pleased with itself, as it speaks of the world outside, of pleasant weather and a garden. You cannot tell what sort of insect it is, but it's held in high regard by the others, it has its own land where none bother it, and so none bother you. It says those who tried to slay you have been executed, and their heads, clean and shining, are piked among the foliage and blooms.

That draws tears from you, and you hate the revolting beast beside you as bows its head to lap up the fluid from all the eyes.

How relieved you must be, it says. I'm glad I could protect you.

You hate it, the creature that brought you here and keeps you here. The one time you felt hope was when those intruders swarmed in, and tried to take your head.

An abomination, they had hissed, raising something sharp, An affront to nature.

You only prayed that they knew where your neck was, if you had one in this body.

Your soft flesh was barely pierced when they were flung from you. The figure now at your side had returned, and it took them all away, slaying some, maiming others. Then it had kneeled beside you, murmuring apologies and begging for forgiveness as it tended to you.

You think you started truly hating it then.

Your captor never tires of muttering about how glad it is to have you here, your flesh and your warmth, your mere presence. It likes to lay beside you, or press its face or claws to your wings to feel the veins and arteries beneath your skin. It drinks of your tears and blood and thanks you for the blessing, and you have much to give as you weep from the pain of your new form, of being here, from the eyes upon your head and the ones upon your wings.

It is a monster that kneels beside you and keeps you here, and you are a monster as well.

You are an abomination, to your kind and its own. You hope others of its kin feel the same, and that they'll seek to finish what their fellows started.

You can only hope one day, one of them will succeed.

Tldr: A worm fell in love with something way beyond it so metamorphosed into an abomination of a beetle and dragged its god down to its plane even if that mean much murder and squishing a human into a horrible fleshy butterfly abomination thing. It is now happily malewifing while its god wants to die.

[meichenxi]

attempting to read things in japanese as a chinese learner is so funny. it's the funniest thing. all of the incredibly formal ancient chinese vocabulary and a hugely different word order and utterly incomprehensible (to me) hiragana and katakana. I cannot help reading the kanji in chinese and they are beacons of formalised archaic light in a shining sea of darkness.

take this headline from a japanese news site:

生活環境の変化 認知機能への影響は？ 被災地で調査始まる!

to me. as a chinese reader. this is like:

live environment の change cognition function への influence? suffer disaster earth で survey commencethまる!

it's predictably much easier for me as a chinese reader to read the news and other things with a lot of kanji - I can almost understand this! I wouldn't have realised it was a question without the question mark in the first sentence, but otherwise, it makes a fair amount of sense: do changes in the living environment affection cognitive function? investigation begins in a disaster-hit area.

but it's more than that. it feels SO old-timey. I've read elsewhere by learners of chinese that learning japanese isn't always straightforward because the kanji aren't the ones used in modern day chinese for the equivalent meaning, the meaning has changed, they have used a character that's been simplified in a different way or is far closer to the traditional character - and so on. but I think if you have a solid grasp of chinese characters, maybe like 3000, from glancing through this news site - the vast majority of kanji are familiar to me. it's just that something they don't mean exactly what you'd expect.

like (and this is from google translate; I do not speak any japanese whatsoever, I just choose this sentence to illustrate a point, it MAY be wrong):

'today I must study japanese' > 今日は日本語を勉強しなきゃ

as a chinese learner, it reads like:

upon this dayはjapaneseをforce myself reluctantly しなきゃ!

a few things about this which would tell me where to put my effort if all I wanted to do were read japanese and I didn't care about speaking:

今日 > 'today' > hilariously formal

は and を as particles I know from the very limited study I've done of japanese previously

勉強 > 'study' > this is deeply amusing to me. in chinese this means to force yourself to do something or to try really, really hard or to do something reluctantly. as in, 'do it if you can, but don't force yourself'. hilarious. 10/10

しなきゃ> well I'm guessing this is the auxiliary verb or some kind of conjugation. THIS is where I think I'd have to put the effort in, if I wanted to just learn to read japanese - speedrun verbs and adjective conjugations and other 'grammatical' bits and pieces that float around the kanji and determine what exactly is going on.

since I only need japanese for academic purposes (potentially for a masters), part of me is tempted to just...open up a pop-up dictionary, and go through news sites and note down all of the grammar stuff I don't know. this is not a particularly WISE way of learning, but if I wanted I guess I could also do more 'normal' learning for active production and listening alongside it. reading the news at the same time as learning how to count to ten. it's quite a funny experience. or perhaps I could just learn japanese FROM chinese as I've wondered about before and then start at the same level (ish) as everyone else who already can read most kanji to some degree. hmm