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thewhumpcaretaker · 7 months ago

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⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒱: 𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇𝓈 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you again to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

TW: negative self-talk, panic attack, wound care, alcohol, extreme sexual tension, arguing

Summary: John returns to the motel and does his best to address the pain that both he and Vincent are going through.

John’s entire body was pounding with adrenaline.

The little sedan’s engine protested against the 90mph he was breaking on the back roads. He couldn’t stop picturing Vincent on the floor where he’d left him. He had been…well, not too harsh. In reality, he should have left Vincent behind for good, if not shot him. But that ship had sailed the moment he had his epiphany about this man. He wasn’t a monster, just a dangerous animal, and that was something John could manage. But striking a balance between managing the Marquis and making him feel unsafe or undermined…that was already proving to be a challenge.

It seemed he had struck the balance correctly this time, at least. Vincent was in good spirits when he walked through the door, and possibly happy to see him for the first time ever. He sat on the edge of the bed, smiling mischievously up at John. Dog ran to greet him – it seemed the two had become friends already. “What did it look like, when you ran them off the road?”

“…Fiery.”

“This is what happens when I am challenged. Those who recognize my eminence will come to my defense.”

“Right.” John sighed. Vincent’s highs were as bloodthirsty as his lows. But he couldn’t help a half smile back at him. “I will come to your defense. Are we good now?”

“We are, as you say, ‘good.’ What did you bring?” He gestured to the bags John had just piled around the armchair.

“Food. Should last a few days so we don’t have to go back out.” He started unloading it into the mini fridge. “Toiletries, bandages, and a change of clothes. Also, painkillers.”

The little exhale of relief that that last item elicited was enough to break John’s heart. Vincent must really be suffering. “Tu n'imagines pas à quel point tu m'as rendu heureux. Donnez-les-moi immédiatement. [You have no idea how happy you’ve made me. Give them to me, immediately.]”

Despite the twinge of guilt that he had inflicted some of that pain himself, John had to refuse him. “Not on an empty stomach. Let’s eat first.”

It was an awkward time for a meal, too late for lunch and too early for dinner, but time had no meaning in this liminal room anyway – except the inexorable progress towards the moment when someone would find them. There was no schedule, no to-do list, only survival. “It’s odd to be on the run again,” he commented as he pushed start on the microwave.

“Not on the run,” the Marquis corrected. “Sending those bastards running from us.”

John didn’t have the heart to answer. Vincent wasn’t quite facing the gravity of his own situation, much less what it meant to John. It felt just like his own days of being hunted. The paranoia. The sleeplessness, too. After watching over the Marquis all night, his hands tingled with low blood pressure and his vision tracked along with an odd lag. It meant little to him – he could go days longer before passing out. The physical effects of exhaustion were merely something to factor in when judging how fast his reflexes could respond in a fight. But his own discomfort didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.

Don’t think that. Helen wouldn’t want – He cut off his own thought with a deep breath. God, what would she think of the Marquis? Of John allowing someone to treat him this way?

But at the same time, wouldn’t she be proud to see him saving someone, caring for someone, offering forgiveness to a real scoundrel as she had once done for him? The fact that he couldn’t ask her twisted him, almost physically, somewhere in the belly.

It occurred to him that he would probably enjoy painkillers for his own headache, with dinner. By that, he meant whiskey. He’d bought that too, and poured it into one of the paper cups supplied by the motel. Upon seeing it, Vincent exclaimed, “C'est encore mieux! [This is even better!] A cup, please.” He hadn’t moved from the bed at all and seemed to thoroughly enjoy being served. Quite the change of tone from last night, when he’d threatened to stab John for getting him a glass of water.

“Choose one: meds or alcohol. You can’t mix them.” He handed Vincent the microwaved meal instead and took a seat at the nightstand, using it for a table.

“Tu ne m'as jamais laissé m'amuser. [You never let me have any fun.]” They were halfway through their meal before the dreaded question came up. “So what did Winston say?”

“What?”

“When you asked how I can survive. What did he say?”

John hesitated, but he wasn’t interested in testing the Marquis’ trust any more today. He had pushed him far enough already. He pulled up the message on his phone and showed Vincent the screen.

Winston: “No, it’s not possible. The entire Table wants him gone. He has made enemies at every turn. If this excuse hadn’t worked, they would have found another.”

John hadn’t replied.

“Bah. He has no idea what he’s talking about.” Vincent’s smile was suddenly made of teeth and extremely fake. He gave an unconvincing laugh. “Quelle absurdité. [What nonsense.]”

Cautiously, “…Did you have enemies? That you knew of?”

“Everyone is an enemy,” Vincent said impatiently. “That’s the nature of every court since the days of the Romans. One builds alliances, not friendships. Of course they want me gone, they want anyone gone who has enough ambition to rival their own. But I have leverage somewhere, I know it, I just have to play them against each other, I have to…” He cut off, shaking his head, once again caught up in wracking his brain to find a solution.

Even more cautiously, “…Are you thinking in terms of regaining your seat, or escaping the Table?”

“‘Escape’ from my life’s work, yes, very appealing. Why didn’t I think of that? I told you, Mr. Wick: your task is to restore my title. Not to shunt me off into mediocrity. I will not hear of this again.” He threw away what little remained on his plate and stormed away to the bathroom. John heard something thrown against the wall, then a long silence.

It seemed unwise to leave him alone in that state. Downing the last of the whiskey, he went to the door and knocked. “Marquis.”

No answer. He took a risk. “Vincent.”

“Laisse-moi. [Leave me alone.]” Even through the door, his voice sounded shaky and clouded over. By the angle it came from, John could tell he was sitting on the floor.

He sighed. There had to be an excuse for every act of kindness. Well, then, he would make one. He went to the shopping bags and fished out a bottle of pills. Returning to the door, he tried, “Tu ne veux pas les analgésiques maintenant? [Don’t you want painkillers now?]”

“Tu es vraiment un – [You’re such a – ]” There was a hint of desperation in Vincent’s voice. John realized that he must be unable to compose himself enough to be seen. All the progress of the morning had been undone in a few minutes. Vincent had been undone in a few minutes.

“Je ne te regarderai même pas. [I won’t even look at you.]”

Another moment of silence, and then the door opened enough for Vincent to put out a hand, expecting a pill bottle. Instead, John gave him individual pills, not trusting him with the whole thing. “Putain, c'est ça ? Donne-moi la bouteille. [The fuck is this? Give me the bottle],” he said. John kept his eyes averted as promised, but Vincent’s tone was hollow and resentful enough to convey the glare that was no doubt directed at his head just then.

“Deux pour l'instant. Ils ne disparaîtront pas si vous en avez besoin plus tard. [Two for now. They’re not going to disappear if you need more later.]”

The door slammed again. Running water, and then a small thump against the ground as Vincent sank back to the floor.

John sunk down on the other side, coming to his level.

Through the wood paneling, he could hear ragged breaths that each died out in an almost inaudible, high-pitched whine of terror. Another panic attack. Vincent was completely raw, agonizingly so. Even for a man with a temper and a bounty on his head, it struck John as odd. You didn’t get to the top if you had meltdowns like this in every stressful situation, and no way to manage them. There had to be something weighing on the Marquis that he wasn’t talking about…either that or he was far more unstable and vulnerable than John had even realized.

He seemed really desperate for the pain to stop. Had the stitches torn out earlier, when he pushed him to the ground? “Je vais attendre en silence, mais quand vous serez prêt, laissez-moi entrer. Je dois refaire vos bandages. [I'm going to wait silently, but when you're ready, please let me in. I need to redo your bandages.]” What a cold thing to say, given the circumstances…John’s protectiveness overcame him again, and he added, “Respirez lentement. Ça va aller bien. [Breathe slowly. It’s going to be okay.]”

Vincent was not in a position to respond, it seemed, so John fell silent as promised. With time, the sounds on the other side of the door slowed somewhat.

But no good deed could go unpunished with Vincent. After a long moment, “Vous aimez ça, n'est-ce pas. Penses-tu que tu es si important que je vais m'effondrer si tu me laisses tranquille pendant cinq minutes ? Tu es l'enfoiré le plus arrogant que j'ai jamais rencontré. [You love this, don't you. Do you think you're so important that I'll fall apart if you leave me be for five minutes? You are the most arrogant motherfucker I've ever met.]”

“Pensez de moi ce que vous voulez. Je suis là pour toi. [Think what you will of me. I am here for you.]”

The door opened, and Vincent leaned back against the wall, giving him room to step inside. “I don’t understand you, Wick. Why are you doing this?”

“You can call me John, you know. And your guess is as good as mine.” He closed the toilet lid. “Sit down.”

Now that he could look at Vincent, the sight made him reel with something devastatingly protective, on the borderline between vengefulness and cuteness aggression. Puffy, damp eyes, reddened around those icy irises, stared numbly up at him from a hunched frame, only inches from his waist in the confined space of the bathroom. Cold sweat plastered Vincent’s hair against his forehead and he still shook ever so slightly. John suppressed the urge to pull him into the tightest possible hug and instead went down on his knees to inspect the bandage, moving slowly to avoid giving pain.

Vincent didn’t fight him for once. His skin was cool to the touch but sweat drenched. Given his condition, John was expecting to see that the wound had become infected, but it was as clean as yesterday. He covered it with waterproof bandages. “You should take a shower. Something warm. I don’t know why you’re so cold…tell me next time, okay? I’ll get you a blanket or something. Don’t want you going into shock again.”

“D'accord. [Okay.]” Vincent swayed weakly for a moment. “I’m not in shock. I’m just…it’s been a hell of a day. I can handle myself.”

“…There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Too far. A glare. “You’re offensively bad at reading people, Wick.” Not John. “I am fine. Or is being shot in the chest not reason enough to have a bad day? I suppose you hardly notice it anymore – a properly conditioned punching bag, aren’t you? Get out before you embarrass yourself any further.”

John sighed. “I’ll leave your new clothes on the sink. Call me when you’re done and we’ll switch waterproof bandages for gauze.”

He sat down in the armchair, facing the door again while Vincent showered. The exhaustion was more bearable when he was up and doing things. Now, he was in danger of nodding off. He was in a sleepy haze when he came back to the bathroom to remove the waterproof bandage and apply gauze and medical tape while Vincent leaned back against the sink, hands braced against the countertop. The room was in a haze too, filled with clinging, misty warmth and the smell of Vincent. Free of the sweat and perfume, his scent was…surprisingly, even sweeter somehow, but in the manner of wild things. A baby animal, a rivulet of tree sap turning slowly to amber… John’s breath caught in his throat and stayed there until his hands were no longer making contact with Vincent’s now glowingly warm, kitten-soft skin. He turned away while Vincent pulled on the shirt.

“Clothes fit okay?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Obviously not, but one must make do. It doesn’t matter to me.” He cast a genuinely miserable glance at the mirror, giving himself away. John had tried to select something that at least wouldn’t disgust him – a grey turtleneck and dress pants, some fresh underwear and socks both in grey as well. But they were Walmart clothes, and that was comically far from being Vincent’s cup of tea.

John wondered if the blood would come out of that button down, and the vest…probably not.

They passed the next few hours slowly unwinding. Another drink, after that mess. John fought to pry Vincent’s freshly warmed chest out of his mind. Vincent, for his part, began to genuinely brood. He complained that the painkillers weren’t working, that he needed more. John gave him one more, and refused him alcohol a second time. But he remained restless, standing up occasionally to pace even though each step was clearly painful, and raiding the mini fridge for pudding.

Shortly after sunset, with a faint pink still penetrating the curtains at the edges, he looked over at John. “I’ve figured out why you’re doing this.”

“Why?”

“You’re attracted to me.”

John almost spit out his whiskey. “What?”

He was leaned back against the bed, grinning smugly, “I know when someone is flustered by my presence. That’s critical information in my line of work. I was just lashing out when I accused you last night, but I was right after all. You carried me out of the car just because you wanted to. You lingered every single time you touched me. You. Are. Attracted.” He pointed the spoon at John with each word. “And that’s why.”

John’s face was beet red. “I get a marker on you if you survive. It’s simple.”

“That’s not what you said in the bathroom.”

“Okay, it’s not about the marker. I don’t know why. But it’s not because I’m attracted to you.”

“Yet you are.”

“…Yeah. I – look, you know what you look like. You don’t need me to tell you you’re attractive. So what’s the point of this?”

He shrugged. “Maybe we could have a little fun. Stress relief.” He was licking the god damn spoon and John found it to be positively urgent that he look elsewhere.

“I don’t do ‘a little fun.’ Call me boring, it’s not for me. Where is this even coming from?”

Vincent’s smile was all teeth and concealment again, as if all his honesty went into his words and he had to compensate by at least hiding his emotions. “I just need something good to happen today. Your painkillers don’t do shit.”

John hesitated. The Marquis had no idea how he was tempting him right now. But he shouldn’t do this. He was buzzed. He was confused about his feelings. It was a bad idea. “I killed two people for you. You got away from the Tarasovs. That wasn’t good enough?”

“Good enough? You should know by now that I expect excellence.” He advanced towards John, managing to swagger even through the pain. John leaned away from him, completely tensed up.

“Back off.”

The Marquis stopped and his smiled faltered, replaced by a blush of his own at being so plainly rejected.

God it was painful to see him like that, knowing that he could just make that feeling go away by saying yes. But he’d regret it. He knew he’d regret it.

“I’m tired. I haven’t slept in a full day. Let’s just…let’s go to sleep.”

“Done watching over me then, as soon as I call you out?”

“It’s not a callout! I’m…not ashamed that I want to. Okay? It’s just not a good idea.” John stood up as if to walk somewhere, realized he had nowhere to walk to, and sat down again. “We have to take shifts. Hold onto a gun, and wake me up if anything happens, or if you get tired. I only need an hour or two.”

Vincent stared at him for a good ten seconds. Then he sunk back onto the bed. “You’re the most depressing person I’ve ever met, Wick. Can’t enjoy pleasure even when it falls in your lap. Would have felt like fucking a funeral urn anyway.”

“Mm-hmm.” John switched off the light.

But the silence was more tense than ever, and even though he’d felt ready to pass out a few minutes ago, it took John far too long to get to sleep.

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#john wick #john x marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont #john wick fanfic #wickblr #marquis de gramont whumpee #gunshot #angst #emotional whump #hurt/comfort #whump fic #assassin whump #ao3 crosspost #enemies to lovers #// withdrawals #// alcohol

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iturnlemonadeintolemons · 1 year ago

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What's your opinion of President Snow as a character in THG trilogy? Was he a great villain?

* Spoiler for TBOSAS *

After reading the novel, what's your opinion about Coriolanus Snow 'transformation' in the end?

Was it his nature or the way he was nurtured that led him to become the character we know?

Thank you :)

@curiousnonny

SPOILERS!

President Snow, in my opinion, is a very good villain, if not a great one. His character is definitely complex, definitely not what I expected him to be like when he was young.

I read the novel a really long time ago, so I don't remember what exactly happened in it, but what I do remember is that I liked his character during Lucy's games and started to losing that feeling after they ended. Her 'betrayal', as it was to him, was definitely a major catalyst for him becoming who he did in the future during Katniss's time.

Him losing his parents at such a young age also was a major factor, as well as the only living adult figure he had to look up to from such a young age, his grandmother, filled his head with the assumptions she had about the people from the districts.

Snow also betrayed his best friend, Sejanus, which was kind of a defining moment for his transformation into, to put it bluntly, the bad guy, and Lucy Gray leaving pushed him over the edge.

He had a natural tendency, however, to be sadistic and feel power in the pain of others, proved when killed the tribute that night when he rescued Sejanus. So it was both his nature, and the way he was nurtured that led him to be the way he was.

Thanks for the ask!

#the hunger games #thg #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #president snow #coriolanus x lucy gray

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bedlamsbard · 2 years ago

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1, 21, 13 for the choose violence

1. the character everyone gets wrong

STEVE ROGERS. There's an overwhelming tendency to smooth down Steve's sharp edges and generally make him softer, sweeter, gentler, more innocent. This man is all sharp edges and while he's not always going to push himself past his limits, when he's holding himself back from them you can tell and it's -- it's very weird to see. It's most common in the ensemble films, like Avengers and AoU and Endgame, there's this air of like...restraint? And then the sharp edges come out when he gets too tired of holding himself back. One of my favorite Steve scenes is in CATWS, during the fight with Batroc, because it's a perfect kernel of Steve characterization. Not just the on va voir part, but the actual fight itself.

But also, like, Steve is mad ALL THE TIME. He's probably the angriest character in the MCU, Bruce Banner included. It's true from CATFA onwards. (I talk about his anger in CATFA a little in Horizon, so I won't reiterate it here.) I see Steve as someone who's always struggled with depression, and his anger is part of that, because he does have those lightning flickers from being functionally depressed and going through the motions to suddenly being blindingly, furiously angry -- Avengers is the most obvious example of this, but it turns up in AoU, CATWS, and CACW too; I don't think he ever hits angry in Endgame, though. He's functionally depressed but there's nothing in that film that kicks him into the anger side of it. (Caveat: my specific brainweasels function this way, which is why I read Steve's as doing so.)

also, uh, here is probably the really controversial read on Steve: there's a tendency in this fandom to give credit for anything and everything Steve does to his feelings about Bucky, and I don't...think that's true. yes, Steve cares a lot about Bucky, but it's a huge disservice to his character to say that Steve only went to Krausberg for Bucky or that he only crashed the Valkyrie because of Bucky or that he only destroyed SHIELD/HYDRA for Bucky or that he was only opposed to the Accords because of Bucky. sure, Bucky is a factor in most of those situations, but Steve would have done all of them anyway. give the man some credit for his own agency!

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

outside of this side of the fandom, probably Endgame, but that's a given. on the Tumblr/AO3 side of the fandom I don't think that's true at all lol.

in this side of the fandom -- uh, Thor, the first one. I've been going through Phase 1 lately and the first Thor film, which a lot of Thor and Loki fans I know feel very strongly about, is a chopped up mess -- I think it's the only film in the MCU that really, really suffers from having its deleted scenes removed, but even with those it's trying to do too many things at the same time and it can't give any of them enough space, plus its Asgard design is a hot mess -- TDW and later Ragnarok had to essentially bend over backwards to fix it. It does a lot of things very well, but it also does a lot of things not well at all. The Thor films are all inconsistent across the board, though; it's the weakest line in the entire MCU.

13. worst blorboficiation

I have THREE answers for this, all of which are bad in their specific ways, but for absolute worst: Tony Stark. I like Tony! He actually is a character I like! He is also super fucked up in ways that Tony fans just ignore or soften or whatever; the weirdest part to me is the desire to make Tony a ~soft dad to Peter, Shuri, Loki, Nebula...Morgan sometimes. This man took a fifteen-year-old kid to Germany to fight Captain America without telling him why, y'all. what about that says "good father figure" to you. he's also brutal to Bruce in IW.

the other two answers are Peggy Carter and Loki, which are pretty self-evident. I think I'd also actually put Natasha on this list, too, because she's another character who people really want to soften.

#thelurkinglark #bedlam replies #bedlam watches the mcu

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nicosraf · 2 years ago

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Yo 🤨

Ok real talk, I’ve finished reading ABM a few days ago but a question has been lingering in my mind for a while now, and thats what drives Uriel to be so fiercely loyal to God? Just curious. I know he’s an archangel, and widely known in the scriptures, but (in the story) it seems he’s been through exactly what Lucifer had gone through, except that his innocence wasn’t viciously taken from him, but he still experienced love and had that love ripped away and forbidden from him, he still received brutal and painful punishments, much like Lucifer. So what drives him to be so loyal? My only explanation would be: fear, his fear of God. Which brings to my attention the way we sometimes refer to good christians as “God-fearing” describing them as being earnestly religious. And since God is all-powerful, there is reason to believe that if all of God’s creations should fear him, then so would angels.

You’re basically 100% right!!!! I think there’s one major difference though: God’s punishments for Lucifer only ever directly harmed Lucifer. God never went out of his way to hurt the people Lucifer was close to (you can argue he was hurting Michael through Lucifer, which he definitely was, but I won’t get into that here), especially in any physical way, and this is important! Lucifer’s isolation was a big factor in him getting pushed over the edge and lashing out at other angels (Gabriel, for example). He could barley explain what was happening to him, he was being told to just put up with it, being told that God is good even by Rosier, who even saw God hurt Lucifer.

Uriel had to watch God harm what were his friends, family, and husband, while he got off mostly unharmed. (Imagine the survivor’s guilt.) And he already knew what violence was — the angels were butchering one another for hundreds of thousands of years — he knew what was happening. The scope of God’s power was also revealed to Uriel in the sheer amount of angels that God brutalized and in the act of Uriel having to witness, and suffer through, the creation of the universe. If God created the universe, then he can end it, and if the beginning was that painful, Uriel can’t even imagine how much the ending would hurt. Uriel knows what God is actually capable of, Uriel knows God is more than willing to harm everyone if they step on his toes too much. (Lucifer doesn’t really think this — why would he? God only seems interested in hurting him and nobody else. Now, if Lucifer and Uriel had built a relationship earlier on. If Uriel had told Lucifer everything, maybe even before the punishments started, things would have turned out quite differently).

And worse — Kimah’s fate is still in God’s hands. Again, God can destroy the universe, God is still splitting the stars, splitting Kimah. Chapter 28, the Uriel chapter, begins with Uriel being worried about this.

Uriel and Lucifer both feared God after the violence he subjected them to, but Lucifer overcomes it, Uriel doesn’t. A large part of this was just the nature of their suffering. Would Lucifer have become fearless if God threatened to harm Michael? Lucifer’s (purposeful) rebellion began with self-harm and self-destruction; Lucifer hurting himself was him performing Godliness. How could Uriel perform Godliness, based off what he knows of God? Uriel already knows angels can be violent, he knows angels can hurt each other and themselves, and he can’t exactly hurt those he adores like God did to him because his closest friends, family, and lover are already gone. Yet another thing is God’s expectations for them respectively. (Lucifer is indeed better than the other angels. He’s special. He becomes full of himself. Uriel is just another angel, at the end of the day, just old and more aware of things, including his body, a discomfort that Lucifer also shared).

So, yes. It’s fear. Uriel is the most loyal, perfect Christian because he fears God more than anyone else. Lucifer is the devil because he overcame that fear.

#sorry for the rant WHOOPS #angels before man #mine #ask #anyway i like Uriel very much he’s such a funny lil elderly guy

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transthadymacdermot · 11 months ago

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Please tell me more about your OCs, Fredrick, Sarah and Annie?

Sure!!! They are main characters in the vague sequel story to my wip red & riotous light that I'm writing + they are tenant farmers on a vaguely located estate owned by a fictious marquess somewhere in co. antrim, ireland, in the mid 1790s. Their family situation is best explained I think by this diagram but to shorten it, Frederick and Annie are the nephew + niece of Sarah's toxic boyfriend Jem, who she basically adopted after she moved in with them. She also has 2 more younger kids but she sent them off to help F&A's father on his search for work in scotland, so they don't factor in to the actual story much. I will go through them in depth one at a time.

Frederick

Frederick is 11 and he's like. one of those annoying street urchin artful dodger type characters but in an almost wholly rural setting. He's def. got what would be today recognised as undiagnosed ADHD and he's working through a lot of complicated feelings surrounding his relationship with his mother (which swings between loving and being like a cage fight like a pendulum) as well as his place in the world and what he's meant to be doing about the incredible violence he's witnessing around him daily. In some ways this manifests as him having grown up far too quickly -- he's already an active member of 1 of the most feared gangs in his area and him stabbing a man without batting an eye is what starts the plot -- in other ways it's him acting at all times like he knows exactly what's up and like he's 100% in control even when he's obviously just a helpless kid.

Some facts about Frederick:

When he grows up he wants to join the army, ideally as an officer + ideally in the cavalry

He is a narrative foil to another character, Seamy, who I went into detail on here

He slowly develops the ability to see snatches of the future in his dreams, although he doesn't typically tell anyone about these dreams so for now it's more of a mounting dread situation than something with any massive effect on his life.

Sarah

Probably the main facet of Sarah's character, imo, is that she really does not give a shit. About anything. She has been utterly miserable due to the fact that she and Jem both despise each other (but she won't leave cos she wants the children to grow up with some kind of father figure + is too exhausted to find anything or anyone else. not answering questions on whether or not this was inspired by anything I have witnessed in real life at this time) for so long that she crossed the threshold of not caring about people's opinions/consequences/moral implications wrt any of her actions years ago. This typically does not end well for people who anger her, especially when taken with the fact that she spent so long blaming herself for things other people did to her that she swung to the opposite extreme + the fact that she is living most of her life now in survival mode, and therefore no longer regards a single one of her actions as her own fault. It does not take much to push Sarah over the edge. If she decides you are jeopardising her survival AND aren't useful for anything otherwise that's you done with this mortal coil and good luck trying to talk her out of it.

Some facts about Sarah:

She is fluent in english, irish, and latin + she can read + write in all 3, and though her family members only know english she often says simple commands and asks simple questions in latin to her children. Her favourite book (a copy of which is owned by a local schoolmaster) is ovid's metamorphosis

She is also a narrative foil to another character called Lady Durham, who I've not made a big post on yet

For many years she sang all the psalms at the local chapel (before she got into a fight with the priest and stopped going)

Annie

Ah, Annie. She is a 12 year old eldest daughter and she has all of the complications that implies. Tbh, she's probably the most capable in her family, or she would be if she didn't spend most of her time wandering around climbing trees and pretending to be a wolf or whatever. She and her mother tend to both blame each other for every single thing that is wrong with the world + fight constantly about everything, but ironically they're very similar -- Annie, too, is very independent and a loner by choice, though she doesn't necessarily dislike company if it's someone who can keep up with her, and she has more than a little of Sarah's ruthless streak in her. Her head is often in the clouds but she isn't incapable of being more practical, nor is she not razor-sharp, she just chooses to get a little whimsical with it. If the rest of the world wants to know what she's talking about they should simply come up into the clouds with her.

Some facts about Annie:

She has a tortoiseshell kitten called Chicken which Sarah gets her early in the story to patch things up after a fight

There is some kind of bizarre cosmic horror monster following her around and doing whatever she tells it to. This manifests as the ability to kill people basically with her mind, though the trade-off is that Annie spreads plague and misfortune wherever she goes as a result of its malign influence leaking out. More lore posts on this coming soon 👍

She enjoys going to see plays &c a lot. Her current favourite is shakespeare's titus andronicus, which she saw when a troupe of players came to perform it for the Marquess (he was so scandalised he nearly perished on the spot) and the local innkeeper Lazarus managed to entice them into doing a cheap showing of it at his inn

#there is more Lore but this is a good introduction to them imo!!!#c: sarah connolly #c: frederick craig #c: annie craig #wip: 8gog #jory.txt

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llycaons · 11 months ago

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one piece remains the only one of the shonen big three I never even attempted because the women were drawn Like That and because the length was so intimidating. but on a friend's recommendation I did start the live-action OP and im sobbing because it's actually genuinely really good and why couldn't WE have gotten this for yyh???? I didn't think it was possible to adapt a fantasy shonen into a live action without looking goofy as hell (I would wince wherver I saw shots of the fma LA) but it's a great time! in fairness my issues with yyh were less that it looked silly and more that it spedrun all the character work, but I genuinely got chills watching the opening scenes of OP and I've never seen the original but they seem to be nailing the character beats that they need to for the story to work. more specific thoughts

luffy is charming and likeable. characters with high ambitions can be obnoxious (BLACK STAR) but he just comes off as an excited kid with a dream. the actor is fantastic, he seems like such a sweetheart. especially since he has nothing else to hold on to and because he's so friendly and agreeable, and isn't trying to hurt or upset anyone except in self-defense. pirates are warmth and kindness and family and fun and excitement and freedom to him

speaking of, I read somewhere this mangaka was like, an anarchist? and...yeah. yep.

I can tell this used to be a manga bc the art, character design, and motifs are just...very fantastical. but it doesn't feel like a goofy fantasy forced into reality, it just feels like colorful and creative designs that are high-concept and well-executed. like, zoro looks SO fucking cool. they nailed him. I didn't think conveying anime cool factor in LA was even possible, but they got there

also I don't know how the women in this show are going to be treated but any real woman has got to be better than the shit that comes up when I google their anime counterparts

having said that I have no idea why luffy opened a treasure box, saw a weird fruit, and ate ALL of it. like??? they didn't establish that he was hungry or that he wanted anything, he just...did it. he doesn't even seem to be enjoying it

but it was really bog of shanks to not pick a fight with that asshole. I hope that comes back soon enough to see in the LA

it's so exciting that there are so frequent shots to other places in this setting - a marine base, another ship, a thief out on the blue. it gives the sense that this world really is massive

NAMI!!!!!

honest to god he has such a charming smile I just wanna be his friend

okay. the fight scenes are cool and it builds the relationship between nami, luffy, and zoro really well. but holding the last sword in his TEETH is not practical. it might work in the manga but in a LA I'm just thinking about how much it must hurt his jaw. he's not even holding the blade, he's holding the FULL HILT

it's kind of thrilling that they have absolutely no leg to stand on. nami and luffy are just straight-up thieves. zoro has more of an honorable thing going on, but there is no legitimacy here for them in their quest. there's no reason to root for them except they're fun and scrappy. and godammit, I do like them! I am rooting for them! I'm sure the world government is corrupt as hell, but even if it's not. fuck em!

ohh this guy is NOT pulling off that design. needs more makeup

OH WHAT THE FUCK. THIS BITCH

okay his design is actually working for me because he's clearly unhinged and his actor makes it work, but the over-dramatic threats of death and maniacal laughter really pushed it over the edge

final score: 9/10 what a fantastic time

#op la lb

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signalwatch · 2 years ago

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00's Rewatch: The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)

Watched: 02/04/2023

Format: Apple+

Viewing: Unknown

Director: Wes Anderson

It may be that the truest line of dialog, clunky as it sounded at the time, to ever be put into a movie was in The Dark Knight. You either die a hero live long enough to see yourself become the villain. And if my former life on twitter taught me anything, it's that the next generation of people who were not there at the time are going to come along and not understand the world or context into which a film was delivered. That's not their fault, but to assume that something like The Royal Tenenbaums arrives into theaters and now Wes Anderson is considered a faultless filmmaker who will enjoy a career of deeply specific filmmaking and be dubbed a key filmmaker was not a guarantee.

Even then not everyone loved Anderson's mannered, structured take that drew attention to the film as a film, as a chaptered storybook. And that's fine. Not everything is to everyone's taste.

Re-watching the film, it strikes me how much the film does a thing I processed a bit at the time and which feels even more present now: showed a vision of a Generation (X) that had grown up in the shadow of giants of the American century. In some ways 2001 was the demarcation point of the old guard and that we didn't really know what the next phase would be. The house is a time capsule, existing in the wake of 1960's and 70's, the golden period of the Glass children - when they were famed child prodigies and the subject of their mother's book and intense media coverage. Fashion is all over the place, pulling from the 60's and 70's, the music is Velvet Underground and VU-adjacent. The feel of the books the movie references, shows, etc... are the 1960's and 70's books we saw in libraries and our parents shelves. Ritchie travels by ship. It's a timeless, post WWII look and feel, and could be a period piece, I guess.

The movie clearly lifts from JD Salinger's books and stories about the Glass family, something self-respecting Gen-X'ers read whether they liked these books or not.* But it's also an entirely different concept - there's no one remotely like Royal Tenenbaum (Gene Hackman) in the books, and while it's been 30 years since I read much Salinger, I don't recall any books about all the Glass family coming back together. This is cuter and fuzzier, the nihilism toned down. And that's okay. There's liberty in being an homage and your own thing.

In the end, the story is about Royal's return to the family (due to extenuating financial circumstances) and how that return and the children coming back under their childhood roof helps push the now adult children back in the right direction (spoilers). It's some curiously adult stuff for a movie that feels like it could be taken as a novelty comedy. What seem like disparate paths for much of the film are pulled together by the ne'er-do-well father - and despite what the movie says til the last minutes, he does actually make good, in his way.

In a career of phenomenal performances, it's the one I think of as Hackman's best. The character seems utterly unlike Hackman as I'd seen him in other roles (well, his Lex Luthor has some echoes) and certainly in interviews, there's no hint of Royal. Famously, he didn't like the role or the production. I've no idea what he thought of the final product. I doubt he watched it.

Which may be the most Royal Tenenbaum thing possible.

Anyway - it was a pleasure to rewatch the film. I don't really have comfort films, but I have films I'm in the mood for at any given time, and in the wake of our weather last week and some internal and external factors being kicked around, this was the movie that jumped out at me on Saturday. I'm glad it did. It's been years since I'd seen it, and when I saw it the first time I was seven or so years younger than the children. I'm now at least fifteen years older than those same characters, and the quirks and edges now feel like... how you wind up viewing the people you know. A series of issues, and the ones you decide to spend time with in your shared dysfunction.

*It's unclear to me if The Kids canceled Salinger or if he's still a favorite of sulky teens.

https://ift.tt/HLiAw2u

from The Signal Watch https://ift.tt/W2tzhk1

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hugh-lauries-bald-spot · 1 year ago

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THE PEOPLE ( @fred-erick-frankenstein ) HAVE SPOKEN!!

and its because theyre disgustingly in love and that seeps into everything they do

ok so my first draft of this answer got deleted cause im god’s least favorite so i’ll try to sum it all up again- hopefully less wordily....

okeedokes ill be getting into their kinks under the cut (nothing super hard cause i just dont really see them having super hardcore kinks or particularly “yucky” ones or anything like that,,,) these are just my 2 cents, if you see them as having harder or nastier kinks then more power to you, my friends, btw this isnt safe for work so dont even try

Body Worship - theyre both so beautiful- really tho, this mutual adoration is the driving force behind a lot of their sexual activity imo, cause their love for each other is so important its pretty much unavoidable in everything they do. this also sort of falls into the mutual masturbation section, theyve both spent so much time subsisting on stolen glances, longing gazes and chaste, indulgent touches that to be able to lavish the other in every pleasure they can conceive of is their own idea of paradise. they both want nothing than to make the other feel their every thought and desire on their skin. they want to feel what theyve only been able to look at from afar or for a blink’s time on their lips, their tongue, their fingertips.

Dominance/Submissiveness - cmon now this one’s obvious... jeeves is of course the naturally dominant one. he knows what he wants and he knows what bertie wants and knows just how to give it to him without simply caving to his master’s every desire (see edging, jeeves is a little shit). jeeves also absolutely gets off on the unbecoming nature of dominating one’s master (you know that little grin he does when hes proven right) and that translates into sexual domination as well. to have your master bend to your every word is a power he adores using, but uses it lovingly and always makes sure bertie is well taken care of. i think, on the other hand, that jeeves is more than able of being the submissive one, but it’s in a much less obvious and direct way. bertie knows a lot about jeeves, what he likes, what ticks him off, he knows how to read him. bertie knows exactly what buttons to push to get jeeves to ravage him like an animal, to give him his all without a moment’s hesitation. bertie can bend jeeves to his will, it just takes a bit more determination... (not to say that a certain class kink doesnt also factor into this dynamic cause of course it does)

Degradation - this is blatant projection, i love a good well-placed insult. i think jeeves knows just what to attack in bertie that will leave him feeling defensice enough to work harder, he knows what makes bertie mad, whatll get a rise out if him, but of course delivered with perfect jeevesian class and politeness, but in a tone that would go over anyone elses head. i dont see bertie insulting jeeves cause a) none of them really land when he does in canon cause hes usually wrong b) i dont know that hed know what to say...

Edging - say it with me folks : jeeves is a little shit! im giving this man my an edging kink, i think this man loves to make bertie feel like he’s winning their sort of dom/sub battle but at the last moment draw out that orgasm for all it’s worth. jeeves has endurance and he has resistance, he knows how to resist his own urge to finish in order to make bertie’s even more gruellingly pleasurable. i dont see bertie as an edger, i dont think he has the self control.

Praise - cmon now who wouldnt praise jeeves the second so much as the first button of his shirt is unbuttoned. that being said, i think this is a good way that bertie has learned to arouse jeeves. a well placed remark on his intelligence, with the right tone has the man’s interest (among other things) piqued. in the same way that bertie knows how to bend his man into going feral and ravaging him, he knows how to get the man’s engines started. and he knows to keep it up while theyre running (im thinking especially when bertie is topping, saying things about how clever jeeves is and his second to none soup-fishing abilities...). and of course jeeves gives his master his fair share of praise (even if sometimes it’s used in a more degrading way, jeeves can walk that line with ease). he knows what his master wants to hear, he also knows how to compliment the usual tightness/wetness/warmth in a way that has bertie thanking and loving his body’s unconscious natural responses.

Service - this is another obvious one but hey. i think this is a big one for jeeves. i think he relishes the feeling of taking bertie in his mouth and delivering absolute service. his delights himself in that complete feeling of having bertie’s cum inside him. i think just the act of swallowing one of bertie’s loads makes him feel servile in the best of ways (this related back to the praise kink i think as well). but this is a two sided kink. i think he adores the debaucherous feeling of his master serving him on his knees, swallowing his cum himself or having it splattered on his face. the feeling of being serviced by the one hes meant to serve relates back to the dom/sub dynamic and jeeves not so secret love for superiority that he feels especially strongly when bertie uses his mouth in such a manner...

Light Bondage - i see this one as mostly them wanting to be daring but nothing too intense... im also including cock rings in this cause idk what kink they fall into... i think this kink also falls into dominance/submissiveness, but i think bertie is pretty much exclusively the one being bound, since i feel the most use theyre getting out of restraints is overstimulation, and i dont see bertie as the type to intentionally overstimulate jeeves, but jeeves absolutely would (this also falls into service)

Public sex - i think jeeves absolutely gets off on the impropriety of fucking his master somewhere where almost anyone could walk in ( i think he’d get off well in the gardens at bertie’s aunt’s place cause it plays into the degradation mentioned above). i think bertie would a) be aroused by jeeves efficiency and speed in making them both climax b) the risk. i feel like jeeves is usually the one to initiate these impromptu “rolls in the hay” because hes better at practically assessing the real risk and knows how to best avoid entirely. but thats not to say that bertie never gets on his knees in a train car...

Gagging - mostly for convenience, and the gags are usually opportunistic, as ive said before i headcanon bertie as being very vocal. this man WHIMPERS, this man CRIES this man MOANS and none of it can be mistaken for anything other than decidedly sexual. so jeeves sometimes needs to get crafty and stuff bertie’s mouth with whatever handkerchief or tie theyre bickering about that day (this relates back to dominance, degradation, and public sex).

Mutual Masturbation - they adore each other so much, and a lot of their relationship started out as stolen glances and repressed urges and a desire to touch what one couldnt even see (mostly for bertie, just an inch of skin, please jeeves!) so i think that them both watching each other masturbate would make sense. they’d both make shows of it, tho i feel bertie would get swept up in his own sensations and mostly make the big show unintentionally. i also think this kink works well in a faux-secrecy lens, since i imagine jeeves has probably heard some heavy breathing from bertie’s room and something that ended in a hushed -eeves that he couldnt entirely make out in absolute certainty... by faux secrecy i mean that eventually, once theyre properly established, bertie will touch himself, the door ajar, the sounds more clear and let jeeves peep in on him with his consent, while jeeves would touch himself to the sounds...

anyhoo thats it for now, this is probably riddled with spelling mistakes but i havent slept in like 36 hours and ive been travelling all day so hey

Hate to be that bird, dreadful business really, but would you be comfortable to share your opinion on who does what during the good old horizontal waltz in the Jooster bedchambers?

Oh YES id be more than comfortable, i have Thoughts!!

I think, for the most part, jeeves tops and hes VERY good at it. Hes fast, hes powerful, hes a little shit who can edge to save a life, hes got stamina aplently. Hes an absolute BEAST.

Bertie will always be a bottom to me, hes vocal, hes verbal, hes a beggar, and asker and a demander. I think they (sorry how bad this is gonna sound) fit together very well in that respect. Jeeves likes that desperate side of bertie, that hopeless need. But he insists on good manners from his master, and bertie is happy to oblige. Bertie gets off on being jeeves'

That being said, bertie can also be dominant, jeeves is pleased to serve his master and does it with velvet lips and devilishly talented fingers

Bertie is also an absolute madman, hes riding that thing like his whole life depends on it. He knows how to move his hips to please em both.

And youll note i said "for the most part" when it comes to jeeves topping, because i think, after a long day of doing everything for everyone, sometimes he just wants to be pleasured, and what i think Little Wooster might lack in width he makes up for in speed and a curve. Besides, jeeves sitting on him, pink cheeked and relaxed is enough to send any man into a frenzy.

I dont think, however, that bertie has the same stamina when it comes to topping, so its a bit of a one and done afair most of the time.

Bertie is also a fiend at sucking dick, total blowjob queen, absolutely loves tasting all of his man, feeling him on his tongue, and jeeves loves the absolutely debaucherous, unfeudal feeling of shooting a load in berties mouth and watching him swallow (same is true of the reverse, the keyword there is full service)

All that to say is that in every way that jeeves is careful, calculated and precise in these matters, bertie is wild, needing, and determined

Id have to get into their kinks in a whole other post i think so feel free to ask for part 2

#n/s/f/w #jooster #smut hcs

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arminsleftnut · 4 years ago

Note

hi!! i’m so excited to see a blog that writes for death note, it’s become a recent hyperfixation of mine and i can’t find any good fics!!! 💗💗💗💗

could you provide some nsfw content for L? any is fine really, hc’s or a full drabble if you’d like!! i’m desperate for L content lol 💗💗

YES oh my god of course 💗💗 deathnote is one of mine too (i rewatch it like once a week) n L is my major comfort character. i did a kinda cross between a drabble and headcanons for this! I hope it’s what you were looking for <333

CONTENT WARNING: smut (MDNI, 18+), female-bodied reader (gender-neutral pronouns), fingering, begging, mild pain kink, overstimulation, L being .. himself and also mildly obsessive, voyeurism (read: L is a creep misa was right), slightest bit of dubcon if you squint, masturbation, pillow humping, dom!L and yes i will die on this hill, sub!reader, L is actually a little mean in this one, dacryphilia, thigh slapping, fluff at the end if you squint, let me know if i need to add more!

being physically intimate with L was something you never really considered when you first got together. you weren’t even sure sex was something that was on his radar; he had so many other things to think about, and physical pleasure seemed like something he didn’t pay any mind to.

and you were right— for the most part. it’s not something L ever stops to consider. it’s not that he’s necessarily disinterested, it’s just never been a priority. he usually just takes care of himself when the urge arises.

with you here, though, it’s different. he’s not alone anymore, and your own desires are something he assumes he needs to factor in, and as many times as you assure him that it’s completely okay if he doesn’t want to have sex, that you can take care of it yourself and it’s a nonissue, he’s still . . . curious.

he’s seen you before on the monitors; those times late at night when everyone else has gone to bed and you forget there’s cameras everywhere, that he can see everything you do. he watches you as you’re spread out on the shared bed he rarely sleeps in, slipping your fingers in and out of your little cunt, your mewls and soft whines carrying through the speakers and shooting straight to his cock. he wonders if it’s wrong to watch you like this, but even as he ponders if misa amane was correct, that he is a pervert, he still doesn’t tear his gaze away from the screen. there is the possibility you hadn’t forgotten about the cameras at all. perhaps you wanted him to see.

he doesn’t say anything, less to save you any possible embarrassment and more because he’s found that a subject is least genuine when they know they’re being observed. it’s human nature, he knows, to alter yourself beneath the lens of others, to hide, and he doesn’t want that. this is a side of you he hadn’t considered might exist— an obvious oversight, and one he aims to correct.

that was how L always was. he loves you, yes, you can say that confidently. but as quiet and soft-handed a man as he is, his love is not simple, nor is it gentle. like him, it’s invasive and relentless. it’s not uncommon for you to feel somewhat neglected, or that perhaps he forgets about you altogether, but he never does. in fact, it’s quite the opposite. you are just as much a fixation, a complex puzzle to be torn apart and examined as any case, and rarely does a minute go by in which he doesn’t think of you. it’s perhaps not as romantic as you might like, with his owlish gaze pinned on you whether through a monitor or when you’re sitting next to him, picking apart every detail, but you can’t say he doesn’t pay attention to you. sometimes, you think he pays too much.

when he finally touches you, it’s no different.

he watched for weeks before he broached the idea. the hours you spent trying to satisfy yourself, with your hand between your legs or rutting desperately against a pillow— yet you never seemed truly satisfied. it was obvious in your expression, face screwed up cutely in obvious distress, frustrated tears welling in your eyes and streaking prettily down your flushed cheeks. you could only ever take two of your own fingers, he noticed; you’d tried more a few times, seeming to find your own two small ones dissatisfactory, but you could never quite make it, leaving you in a painful limbo that always has you in a particularly sour mood the next time he speaks with you.

the more he watched, the more he realized how truly unsatisfied you were. one night, you spent thirty minutes rocking against your pillow, and despite the wetness that darkened your pretty panties, you eventually gave up, tossing the ruined pillow away from you with a small, frustrated shriek. he wondered why; and more still, why he suddenly found his own hand unsatisfying, and why he could only curve his own thoughts with ones of you on the monitor, spread out prettily.

it was horribly distracting, really. and with anything else, L had to make sense of it.

in the end, he ends up with more questions than answers.

it’s not his fault, really. it’s yours. you’re so fascinating to study, and so eager to let him learn. you’d been so utterly pliant as he pried your thighs apart, stuttering out reassurances that he didn’t have to do this, asking over and over if he was sure. he doesn’t bother to tell you that this wasn’t for you— he wouldn’t be able to think properly until he’d gotten his answers.

there’s none of the awkward hesitation you might’ve expected, no unsure fumbling of hands or knocking teeth. no, L is sure of this as he is anything else he studies, tearing it apart as he sees fit until he’s satisfied with the conclusion. you’re no different, and he’s just as relentless as he always is.

there’s a certain desperate edge to it when he touches you, like he’s trying to tear everything from you by force. he watches you squirm beneath him, mewling and pleading incoherently as the walls of your pretty cunt spasm around his fingers for what feels like the thousandth time (it would seem you can, in fact, take three), and the only thing he can think of is how many more you’ll be able to give him. surely this isn’t your breaking point? no, he knows better, that can’t possibly be it. you can take more, and he tells you so, deafened to your mindless babbling and choked sobs as you try to push him away.

it’s strange that you do that. you get so upset when he actually does pull away:

he has to pin your hands down eventually; clawing at him the way you are is only a hindrance, and it reduces his overall effectiveness significantly. fortunately, you seem to learn quickly, responding especially well to a sharp slap to your inner thigh. (he isn’t sure if it’s a carrot or a stick, given the way you clench around his fingers when he does it. regardless, it works, so he does it again).

it really only occurs to him to stop when your body seizes again, this time falling entirely limp, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. he might’ve worried, but your eyes flutter open only a few seconds later, and it’s then that he considers that you might be rather exhausted.

“are you alright?” his voice is quiet, hoarser than normal, and uncharacteristically gentle. he cocks his head at you, the puppy-like gesture such a stark contrast to the delightful hell he was inflicting on you only moments before that you can’t help but giggle tiredly.

at your assurance that you aren’t on the verge of collapse, not anymore at least, he takes time to clean you up, his touch feather-light and familiar in its softness. he lets you cling to him, winding his awkwardly long body around you in a sort of cradle, tucking your head beneath his chin.

he counts the minutes until you fall asleep, measuring your breaths against his own. as much as he enjoys tearing you apart to see what’s inside, there’s a strange satisfaction in putting you back together again.

this is my first published smut i apologize in advance.

#i’m so sorry i went a little feral #not beta’d or edited we die like men #🍒.poppedcherries #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet smut #l lawliet x you #death note x reader #death note smut #death note x y/n #l is so weird i’m sorry

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thetrashthatsmilesback · 3 years ago

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Tbh, I'm mad the rating on the solangelo book is staying children's. We're probably getting a Nico pov, and he sees Tartarus without the mist, this should be a downright horror novel. It's honestly where I thought HOH was going when it was released, middle school me was genuinely expecting some Stephen King level shit, but I get why it wasn't. However, this would be the perfect opportunity for Rick to start marketing to adults again like he used to (I know it's primarily written by Mark, and is just being reviewed by Rick's staff, but still). At the very least, it should have the creepy factor of like, the Coraline book.

If Nico genuinely saw Tartarus in a form that other demigods can't, then this book should really push that idea between the two POVs. It should have Nico giving will a speech about promising to kill him should he completely lose it down there. It should have him questioning reality at every turn. It should parallel what they're seeing in chapters with battles. Nico, based on HOH, will be seeing the monsters as blood cells, the floor as body tissues. Everything should be fuzzing down the edges, and he should be able to feel the raw power of all the underworld gods down there.

Nico's chapters should have the room to be downright terrifying, almost painful to read.

But the book will still have an adolescent reading level, so we won't be able to get that level of detail, and much like in HOH, Tartarus will likely end up feeling like a lesser level threat than it truly should be.

Honestly I always wanted him to just rewrite the books from Nico's pov, but even then I'd want it to be aimed at adults because you straight up can't write a Nico centric book without getting into the nitty gritty of PTSD, eating disorders, homelessness, death, depression, etc etc. Maybe aiming it at older teenagers could work, but frankly RR has written himself into a corner where books from Nico's pov have to toe the line of being an adult book, or at least an upper YA simply because of how tragic Nico's character is, and how it has progressively gotten even more intense over the years.

We're talking about a character who at the age of ten was willing to trade his own soul to resurrect his sister. That is dark shit, and frankly his mindset wouldn't be able to be handled deeply enough without a higher rating. As of the moment, he acts as a sort of example for kids, like "if your friends are showing signs of being like Nico, you need to tell a trusted adult and get them help!" Which is a great message, it's good to show mental health issues to kids so they know to reach out for help if they relate to Nico or see their friends acting like him.

But that's different from writing a book from his perspective. BOO had a lot of problems, and as the Nico and Reyna povs were the only parts I liked, I still felt like Nico's parts were watered down by the rating of the book.

If even retelling the series through his POV would have to be a higher rating to allow for nuance, a book from his point of view depicting literal fucking hell in it's true form should be an adult level horror book, and THAT'S where this whole novel is going to fall apart.

It either needs to be entirely Will's point of view (which Nico fans, myself included, would get pissed about for being bated into believing it was Nico centric), or it would have to be raised in rating to the cusp of YA and adult novelization. There's also the final option of Mark would have to master toeing the line for what's appropriate in a children's book like Coraline did, which considering there's a Lil Nas X reference in the book, I doubt he did.

Those are the only options for this book handling Nico's trauma and just the content of the book in general with the care it needs.

As fascinating as the "save Bob" plotline could be, it's just not the plot they should have gone with for this. They should have been given a different quest for the book that wouldn't require so much introspection on Nico's part. Even Mark's history of writing characters with trauma isn't going to be enough for this because Nico logically would be in a constant state of psychological distress.

Tower of Nero told us that Nico's trauma is so severe he's developed auditory hallucinations, and it's been implied an eating disorder from HOH (though frankly I'd argue even since BOTL since every time Nico is mentioned in the books, he's said to look thinner until the scene in HOH where Jason notes he looks less emaciated. That's the only time he's described as having gained weight, every other time he's described as having gotten thinner). We were told in BOO that he was so traumatized and depressed that the LITERAL GODDESS OF MISERY, THE MANIFESTATION OF HOPELESSNESS AND DEPRESSION, told him he was perfect and that she couldn't improve upon him. This is a character that, if he were to return to Tartarus, would become incredibly mentally unstable to the point that simply can't be depicted in a children's book with nuance because it would be deemed inappropriate for younger readers.

All that being said... I have wanted a Nico centric solo book from his POV since Titans Curse so I guess I can't complain too much. (For context, I started reading these books when I was seven in 2009, so iirc only up through battle of the labyrinth or the last Olympian had been released at that point.)

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moiraineswife · 3 years ago

Text

Autistic Allegories in Renarin’s Arc - Meta

s’up y’all, your favourite local rambler is back at it again. Diving straight in to this one. The motivation for this post is something that might be controversial, and I’m going to try and explain it as clearly as I can and make my intentions clear, but I get this is the internet and things get misinterpreted to fuck.

So, since Renarin was confirmed to be a queer character, I’ve seen a lot of posts and takes on pretty much every platform I frequent that equates all of Renarin’s traits/struggles in canon as being foreshadowing/parallels to his queer identity and experience.

I get this. I’m also queer. I understand the instinct to take, say, Renarin’s corrupted spren bond and his desire to keep his nature as a Radiant hidden/his lack of understanding initially and assume it to be queer foreshadowing/parallel. I big get that. And that’s not a bad interpretation.

The problem is, this is the ONLY interpretation people put forth. They ignore things explicitly said/connections made in canon to Renarin being autistic and say ‘this is it. this is what this means. it’s about him being gay’. When, actually, a good chunk of it is about his experience as an autistic man in an allistic society. Which I think is what Brandon wants to explore/has set up in the text.

So I decided to look at this in more depth from an autistic perspective - some of the moments that most clearly parallel Renarin’s autistic experience and explain how and why this is a thing, and hopefully just highlight this aspect of his character and explain things to folks.

Renarin’s Blade Screaming

Jumping right into it then: Renarin’s bond with Glys is very clearly paralleled with his autism. The text outlines this connection multiple times throughout the series, and explores it in interesting ways.

First up, Renarin first revealing himself as a Truthwatcher makes this pretty clear:

“And the Shardblade,” Dalinar said, stepping over and taking his son by the shoulder. “You hear screams. That’s what happened to you in the arena. You couldn’t fight because of those shouts in your head from summoning the Blade. Why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought it was me,” Renarin whispered. “My mind. But Glys, he says . . .” Renarin blinked. “Truthwatcher.” (WoR)

“Adolin,” he said softly. “I … um … I have to give you back the Shardblade you won for me.”

“Why?” Adolin said.

“It hurts to hold,” Renarin said. “It always has, to be honest. I thought it was just me, being strange. But it’s all of us.”

“Radiants, you mean.”

He nodded. (Oathbringer)

Renarin didn’t explain to his father or the others what was happening to him because he thought it was part of his autistic experience.

Being autistic you get used to experiencing a lot of in-brain things and not realising that other people don’t experience them, too. I have hypersensitivity to sound. I can hear things other people don’t, because their brains naturally filter them out - like electronics whining.

The experience of having a Shardblade scream inside your head is actually a pretty great parallel for sensory overload. It’s something intense, something frightening, and overwhelming, and even painful. But Renarin just endures it without comment because that’s what we’re conditioned to do.

“A group of shellheads tried to seize one of the bridges, Brightlord,” the bridgeman said softly. “Brightlord Renarin insisted on going to help. Sir, we tried hard to dissuade him. Then, when he got near and summoned his Blade, he just kind of . . . stood there. We got him away, sir, but he’s been sitting on that rock ever since.”

[...]

“I just stood there,” Renarin said. “I wasn’t frozen because of my . . . ailment. I’m just a coward.”

When Adolin hears about Renarin freezing up he assumes that he had a fit. Renarin corrects him on this, once he’s verbal again, but says that he was just a coward.

He froze up once he summoned his Blade. Because it would have started screaming in his head and this was overwhelming. When other Radiants have experienced this on-screen the screaming has been so intense they immediately dropped or dismissed the Blade, unable to hold it.

From this, I infer that Renarin believes everyone experiences this when they fight with a Shardblade. He doesn’t realise that it’s strange for him because he’s a Radiant. He thinks everyone experiences it, but they push through and overcome it. He can’t, and instead of thinking something strange is going on, he assumes that it’s a weakness of his and that he’s a coward.

This is a fairly common autistic experience. Why can’t you just get over this? Why is that overwhelming you? Just ignore the sound. Just ignore the lights. Stop being so weak/oversensitive.

That’s what Renarin thinks is happening. That’s why he doesn’t examine his experiences more closely, and realise he’s a Radiant. He thinks it’s part of him being autistic, and that he’s just being overly sensitive, until Glys is able to communicate with him and explain he’s a Truthwatcher.

The Rhyshadium Don’t Fit

“They don’t fit, you know.”

“Don’t fit?”

“Ryshadium have stone hooves,” Renarin said, “stronger than ordinary horses’. Never need to be shod.”

“And that makes them not fit? I’d say that makes them fit better.…” Adolin eyed Renarin. “You mean ordinary horses, don’t you?”

Renarin blushed, then nodded. (Oathbringer)

This, for me, is one of the most direct and obvious parallel between Renarin’s experience as an autistic man, and his experience as a Radiant.

Firstly, he comments on the Rhyshadium ‘not fitting’ with ordinary horses. They’re different. They have different hooves, which means they never need to be shod, like regular horses. In this case, being shod is something all horses do. It’s something natural for them, and the Rhyshadium not having it makes them stand out. This is similar to Renarin’s experience in society and in life.

The Rhyshadium are sometimes called ‘the third shard’ - they’re tied to the Radiants and to Stormlight. Renarin aligning himself with them, and his not fittng with them not fitting, mirrors his being Radiant stopping him from fitting in as he wants to.

A big part of his arc is his desire to fit in somewhere. His integration with Bridge Four is a huge boost to his confidence. He asks to join them to try and find somewhere to belong. The bridgemen are outcasts. They’re people who don’t fit in society, either, for various different reasons. Renarin fits with them, therefore, because he doesn’t fit elsewhere.

When he starts becoming a Radiant, and a different type of Radiant to the others, he starts to worry again. He worries that, yet again, he’s different for reasons he cannot control, and he’s worried the bridgemen will abandon or reject him as has happened frequently in noble society.

“So why are you embarrassed?”

“I’m … not?”

Adolin gave him a flat stare.

Renarin dismissed the Blade. “I simply … Adolin, I was starting to fit in. With Bridge Four, with being a Shardbearer. Now, I’m in the darkness again. Father expects me to be a Radiant, so I can help him unite the world. But how am I supposed to learn?”

Adolin scratched his chin with his good hand. “Huh. I assumed that it just kind of came to you. It hasn’t?”

“Some has. But it … frightens me, Adolin.” He held up his hand, and it started to glow, wisps of Stormlight trailing off it, like smoke from a fire. “What if I hurt someone, or ruin things?”

The conversation continues, and further solidifies the connection between the Rhyshadium not fitting with other horses, and Renarin not fitting in with other people.

He had become a Shardbearer, and was starting to fight and do what an Alethi man is expected to do in society. Go to war with Shards, with glory, etc etc etc. That didn’t quite work out.

For Renarin, whenever he gets closer to assimilating with the standard society and expectations, something happens to stop him. Initially it’s his epilepsy. He has fits, and his chronic illness makes him generally weaker and more frail, meaning that he can’t fight.

Once he’s given Shards to help mitigate those factors, he can’t use the Shards because his Radiant bond makes them scream inside his head. Again stopping him from fighting and becoming a soldier.

He then goes on to tell Adolin that he doesn’t really know how to Radiant. And Adolin says that he thought it would just come to him/he would instinctively know, but he doesn’t.

This is, again, a very classic autism thing. We struggle with doing things that allistic people find instinctive, and don’t need to be actively taught - such as reading and projecting the correct body language.

Adolin, who takes very naturally to all this stuff, just assumes that Renarin’s Radianting would just come to him, and Renarin has to explain that actually no, it hasn’t. This literally cannot get any clearer in forging an obvious link between his autism and his Radiant abilities.

Renarin’s ‘Corrupted’ Bond:

“What’s wrong with me?” Renarin asked. “Why do I see these things? I thought I was doing something right, with Glys, but somehow it’s all wrong.…” (Oathbringer)

[...]

“Does it strike you as cruel of fate, Father? My blood sickness gets healed, so I can finally be a soldier like I always wanted. But that same healing has given me another kind of fit. More dangerous than the other by far.” (Rhythm of War)

[...]

Lopen called out, asking Renarin to “look into the future and find out if I beat Huio at cards tomorrow.” It seemed a little crass to Dalinar, bringing up his son’s strange disorder, but Renarin took it with a chuckle.

[...]

It would be so much easier if he were like other Radiants. (RoW)

[...]

“And a blackness interfering, marring the beauty of the window. Like a sickness infecting both of you, at the edges.”

“Curious,” Dalinar said, looking where Renarin had pointed, though he’d see only empty air. “I wonder if we’ll ever know what that represents.”

“Oh, that one’s easy, Father,” Renarin said. “That’s me.”

“Renarin, I don’t think you should see yourself as—”

“You needn’t try to protect my ego, Father. When Glys and I bonded, we became … something new. We see the future. At first I was confused at my place—but I’ve come to understand. What I see interferes with Odium’s ability. Because I can see possibilities of the future, my knowledge changes what I will do. Therefore, his ability to see my future is obscured. Anyone close to me is difficult for him to read.”

“I find that comforting,” Dalinar said, putting his arm around Renarin’s shoulders. “Whatever you are, son, it’s a blessing. You might be a different kind of Radiant, but you’re Radiant all the same. You shouldn’t feel you need to hide this or your spren.”

Renarin ducked his head, embarrassed. His father knew not to touch him too quickly, too unexpectedly, so it wasn’t the arm around his shoulders. It was just that … well, Dalinar was so accustomed to being able to do whatever he wanted. He had written a storming book.

Renarin held no illusions that he would be similarly accepted. He and his father might be of similar rank, from the same family, but Renarin had never been able to navigate society like Dalinar did. True, his father at times “navigated” society like a chull marching through a crowd, but people got out of the way all the same.

Not for Renarin. The people of both Alethkar and Azir had thousands of years training them to fear and condemn anyone who claimed to be able to see the future. They weren’t going to put that aside easily, and particularly not for Renarin. (RoW)

Sorry for the quote barrage, but there was really no other way to do this, and I think it makes a nice little arc in how Renarin sees himself and his bond to Glys and, by extension, his autism.

In the temple, with Jasnah, he considers it to be something wrong. He’d thought he was finally fitting in, being like everyone else, doing something “right” but it turns out his bond is of Odium, and while he thought he fit with the others, he doesn’t. Again.

The RoW segments are what’s most interesting to me, because what we see here, I think, is Dalinar experiencing Renarin’s ‘disorder’ as he calls it and processing it/coming to terms with it in a way a lot of parents approach their kids’ autism. But this is a bit more approachable/less painful to look at because he’s considering him being a weird glowing power ranger, and not an autistic kid. Easier to examine more honestly.

So first of all Renarin, again, calls a direct link between his bond and his autism. The ‘healing’ that came with his bond gave him another kind of otherness. Another way he can’t be a soldier - which, for Renarin, in Alethi society, means him being like everyone else. I was going to go into this more here but this thing is already long as fuck, but in a nutshell being a soldier is Renarin’s dream because that’s him being “normal” and being like everyone else, which fate always conspires to stop him from being.

In Alethi society the peak of masculinity and of fitting in to the social order, which revolves around war and glory and battle courage blah blah blah - is being a soldier and fighting. Which Renarin has never been able to do. Which his father has always wanted him to do - wihich Renarin knows.

A lot of allistic people, especially allistic parents, think their autistic kids won’t pick up on their blatant ‘oh my god I wish my kid was normal’ vibes. They do. BELIEVE ME they do. This is a good little nod to that. Dalinar has never outright looked at Renarin and said ‘I want you to be a soldier to be worthy of my love and respect’ but it’s what Renarin grew up knowing and seeing from him.

The evolution of that through exploring Dalinar’s attitude to Renarin being bonded with an Odium-aligned spren is...Utterly fascinating, to say the least.

Here, for example, Dalinar sees it as a “strange disorder”. When Renarin calls a spade a spade and just goes ‘yeah no that weird thing right there that makes you comfortable? That’s me, buddy, get used to it’. Which is just. Absolutely effervescent. There’s a big instinct allistic people have to dance around autistic people. So many innuendos. So many fluffy phrase that I hate. “On the spectrum.” “On the autism spectrum”. “Differently abled” “Sees the world differently.” Just call me autistic and let me move on with life I do not have time to deal with your internalised issues.

He kind of comes around on it and gives him the whole “you might be a different Radiant but you’re still a Radiant to me, son”. Replace the word Radiant here with person and you’ll have a conversation I’ve experienced so many times. “Just because you’re a weird person doesn’t mean you’re not still a person!” Why thank you for pointing that out. I hadn’t noticed....Thank you for validating my humanity to my face?? As though I needed you to do that?

Contrast this with Renarin’s cheerful acceptance (ABSOLUTELY STUNNING DEVELOPMENT, HELL YES) - ‘yeah no that weird thing right there is me’. I cheered, dear reader, I CHEERED. It’s a little thing but it’s also a very very big thing.

So is Lopen making light of things - in a way that laughs with Renarin and not at him - wanting him to predict the outcome of his card game. Renarin laughs at this, and is obviously comfortable with the jokes and the camaraderie. Dalinar winces at this and thinks that it shouldn’t be made fun of this way, that it’s crass or wrong, Renarin has a disorder, it makes him weird and delicate, people shouldn’t joke around him with that, it’s not right. But Renarin is comfortable with it, and the Bridgemen are comfortable with him, which Dalinar obviously isn’t - though I get that he’s trying to go there.

Then, again, we draw a very direct parallel between Renarin’s Radiant experience othering him socially and autism othering a person socially. Absolutely exquisitely done mister sando, very nice indeed.

Renarin notes that there are ways to go through society. It’s nice to be like Dalinar and have the clout to buck the expectations, and not do what you’re supposed to, and still get away with it. Isn’t that nice? Bitch wrote and published a book and he’s still seen as masculine and worthy of respect and being yielded too.

Remember that Renarin can read and write as well - he learned so he could interpret his visions. But he hasn’t shared that with people. Because he knows that it won’t be accepted the way Dalinar was.

Sanderson sets up this idea rather nicely in Oathbringer, actually, with the scribes meeting.

Renarin glanced at his father. Dalinar responded with a raised fist.

He came so Renarin wouldn’t feel awkward, Shallan realized. It can’t be improper or feminine for the prince to be here if the storming Blackthorn decides to attend.

This part has always made my heart happy. Because it’s not just about Dalinar validating Renarin’s societally ‘feminine’ tendencies - which he gets subtly bullied/mocked for during that meeting by one of the other women in attendance. It’s about all of his differences, it’s about Dalinar validating his autistic experience as well, and helping to fit him in to a society that continually rejects and ousts him.

This idea evolves through RoW, however, with Renarin understanding that Dalinar can do things that he won’t be allowed to get away with. Dalinar isn’t so much breaking down barriers with Oathbringer as he is stomping through them because he has enough social privilege to do so, for the most part, unscathed.

Renarin keeps his reading a secret because, even after what Dalinar has done, it’s not going to change things for most men, and certainly not him.

Renarin has learned, throughout his life, that him being different is not going to break down any barriers. People are not going to change their world, or their worldview, for him and his differences. He knows that he has to adapt, and he knows that he won’t be afforded the same luxuries as others.

He’s more comfortable with this now. He’s learning to be himself, and learning that the world won’t fit itself to him, he just has to do what he’s going to do anyway, and find the places where he fits, rather than trying to change the ones where he doesn’t. It’s actually a really beautiful little arc, and I’m strongly tempted to look at it in more depth at some point. Renarin and Dalinar’s dynamic is actually incredibly deep, layerd, and complex, and it’s something I’ve been meaning to look at for a while. HOWEVER. NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR THAT.

TL;DR: Renarin’s Radiant experience is a direct allegory and parallel to his autistic experience. This is explored and made blatant by canon repeatedly, throughout the series, and Renarin’s experience as a Radiant is clearly a vessel by which Sanderson intends to explore his autism. Stop erasing and ignoring this when you talk about Renarin and analyse his arc. His autism is as intrinsic to this as it is to identity. It’s part of him. Stop erasing it.

I’m not saying you can’t find parallels or comfort in Renarin’s arc as a queer person. I’m just saying you cannot look at it in isolation. As though the text is ONLY making a parallel between his queer identity and his bond. Because it’s very fucking blatantly not. His autism is obviously and canonically tied to his Radiant bond and this is something that MUST be noted whenever you talk about this aspect of Renarin’s character.

Note: if anyone has any questions or comments on this, I am happy to engage and to clarify what I meant/add further detail and supporting evidence for various different aspects. There’s only so much I can cover in one post! For my sanity as well as yours...But there’s absolutely more, and I’m happy to look at that as well.

#renarin kholin #dalinar kholin #adolin kholin #brandon sanderson #rhythm of war #stormlight archive #stormlight meta #renarin meta #my meta #dalinar meta #lopen #bridge four #long post #text post tag #i WILL force y'all to acknowledge renarin's autistic experience if it kills me :)#honestly this shit is even more blatant than i thought it was #like i knew this was what brandon was doing?#i picked that up on a casual read #but actually digging into it and analysing it he genuinely couldn't make this more obvious if he tried #he may as well have giant neon signs taped to renarin following him around going #THIS MAN'S AUTISM IS PARALLELED BY HIS EXPERIENCE AS A NEW RADIANT #CONSIDER THIS AND CHECK YOUR PRIVILEGE AND ASSUMPTIONS #BRANDO SANDO OUT #taryn talks #mine #anyway #pls read and reblog and be aware of what u write in future

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extasiswings · 4 years ago

Note

15 + buddie

15. "Shouldn't you be with her?" On ao3 here.

When Eddie is eleven, his class gets a new student. Her name is Maria Esparza and her family is from Arizona. She has dark curls that look like they would be soft to touch and a smattering of freckles across her nose and she’s so smart—always reading and forever raising her hand in class, always with the right answers—but she never acts stuck up about it.

He thinks she’s beautiful and when he gets home from the first day of school he promptly announces that he’s in love. He doesn’t understand why his mother laughs or why Sophia rolls her eyes and calls him an idiot when he’s perfectly serious.

He’s in love, he insists, and goes on believing it for three whole weeks until he gets up the courage to give Maria a flower at recess and she looks at him like he has two heads. The rejection smarts for a couple of days, but then he’s fine. So, he figures...maybe it wasn’t love after all.

Eddie is fifteen when he finds his eyes slipping too frequently to Diego Reed in autoshop, lingering on the other boy’s long, dexterous fingers, his forearms, the sharp edge of his jaw. Eddie can’t explain it, he just knows those stolen glances make him squirm, make him flush, make him feel too warm and like his very skin is too tight.

Diego steals Eddie’s first kiss two weeks before winter break, pushes him up against the back wall of the shop where they’re hidden by a truck and licks into his mouth with a confidence that Eddie can’t imagine ever having when he himself can’t even figure out what to do with his hands. But it makes his knees weak and leaves him breathless and panting when Diego pulls away with a smirk and tells him not to say anything.

It’s not love—for one thing, Eddie knows he’s not supposed to love boys, and for another, the only time he suggests it might be anything at all, Diego gives him the same look Maria had once upon a time and walks away—but it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. The next year, Angelica Phelan asks him to go to the winter formal and he gets to second base in the science lab when they slip away from the chaperones. It’s different from kissing Diego. But it’s just as good, he enjoys it just as much, and part of him is…relieved.

He doesn’t think about that too much.

Eddie is eighteen when he’s not watching where he’s going and runs directly into his future on the sidewalk. Thankfully, the only casualty is Shannon’s coffee, and after she snaps at him for not paying attention and he offers to replace her drink—well. They close down the coffee shop, emerging, startled, from conversation only when interrupted by a mildly disgruntled employee trying to lock up. Eddie walks home in a daze, Shannon’s phone number burning a hole in his pocket, and he’s simultaneously elated and terrified because it’s never been so easy being with someone, he’s never felt so seen so quickly. He’s old enough to realize that love at first sight is bullshit, but he thinks he could fall very fast.

He’s right.

They take things slow because Eddie wants to do things right, doesn’t want to risk confusing love with the heady cocktail of teenage hormones and sex. So he knows by the time he does fall into bed with her, eight months in, that he’s in love. Really in love, thinking about the future in love, factoring her into the mix when he thinks about what the hell he’s going to do with his life in love.

And then Shannon gets pregnant. And it’s too soon, he loves her but it’s too soon, and he’s terrified all over again—

He loves her though. He loves her. And she’s pregnant so—they get married. He wants to do the right thing.

At their wedding the readings are selections from Song of Songs and Corinthians.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud....Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things...

With all due respect to St. Paul, Eddie doesn’t think he knew what the hell he was talking about. Or at least, maybe he did, but he was being pretty damn aspirational and left out a few things.

Because after the wedding…after the wedding, Eddie learns a lot more about love.

Love is beautiful, yes. But love is also…trying to do the right thing and fucking up. Love is fighting and knowing exactly what to say to cut the deepest and not always holding back. Love is forgiving, but after a point finding it difficult to forget.

Or maybe that’s not love, maybe that’s just marriage. Maybe it’s a little of both. Because love endures—sure. Love endured with Shannon even when trust was nonexistent, when their marriage was fractured, shattered pieces strewn across the floor ready to draw blood if either of them tried to pick them up.

Love isn’t enough. That’s what Eddie knows. Or maybe it is, maybe love would have been enough to fix what was broken if it hadn’t been his. Shannon’s gone, so they’ll never be able to have that conversation. He’ll never know the answer.

Love endures. Eddie kind of wishes it didn’t. It would make a lot of things a lot easier.

But…it’s fine. He’s fine. Shannon dies and he locks that piece of himself away and has no plans to ever fall in love again.

Then again, God has a funny sense of humor and never seems to resist an opportunity to be an asshole, so of course…he does. Slowly. Quietly. The threads slipping through the cracks in his walls so carefully that he doesn’t even notice until they’re twined around his heart, unspooling through his blood, through his veins with every pulse. Eddie doesn’t notice.

And then he gets shot and it’s like being hit by lightning, an electric shock of clarity down his spine, rooting him in place as he meets Buck’s eyes.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

***

Eddie despises recovery.

He’s never been good at being still, at being useless, at being left alone with nothing but his own head. And maybe he’s not entirely alone—he has Christopher, after all, and Christopher is understandably a little clingy now that he’s home from the hospital—but Christopher sleeps and has play dates and spends time in his room and just in general isn’t in Eddie’s space every second of every day.

And then there’s Buck. Buck who offered to keep staying on the couch to take care of everything they needed when Eddie came home from the hospital. Buck who Eddie sent home to his own bed with promises to call if he needed help because having Buck so close after Eddie’s little realization was stirring him up, making everything a million times more difficult in his head. Buck’s still over frequently, but it’s less dangerous if he’s not staying overnight, if Eddie can’t wake up and be tempted to walk out to the living room and pull Buck into his bed. Not for anything sexual—he’s on too many medications and too immobilized for that even if it was remotely a good idea—but to be held. To feel wanted. To feel safe.

He knows Buck probably wouldn’t say no, wouldn’t think anything of it except that maybe he’s a little raw and fragile, which he is. Which is exactly why he can’t ask. So. Removing the temptation it is.

But. Being left alone with his own head is a terrible idea. He’s in pain because he lowered the doses of his pain meds so he would stop worrying about developing any dependency. He can’t sleep without waking up with screams trapped behind his teeth and the smell of blood and gunpowder in his nose. And he can’t stop thinking about Buck. About being in love with Buck. About wanting Buck. About whether he could ever have him or whether he’ll ever be okay enough to be in a relationship. About whether Buck could ever want him back or if he’ll ever feel safe enough to risk their friendship by even asking.

He broke up with Ana the second he was able to figure out how to do it without feeling like a complete dick. But he hasn’t told Buck that. He doesn’t know why.

And then there’s—

The key turns in the lock and Eddie starts, looking up from his place on the couch. Christopher is with his abuela for the night, and he didn’t expect—

“Hey,” Buck calls, stepping through the door. “I brought dinner.”

Eddie stares.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, before he can stop himself. “Shouldn’t you be with Taylor?”

—Taylor. Buck and Taylor. Which, Buck waited weeks to tell him about, hedging about why he wanted to know if it was okay to invite her to Eddie’s welcome home party. Which, Buck only did admit to when Eddie called one night at 2AM and Taylor answered Buck’s phone.

Eddie clears his throat, the question sounding a little too sharp and accusatory to his ears.

“I just meant,” he adds, softening, “I thought you said you had a date tonight.”

An odd look passes over Buck’s face.

“Isabel called me,” he replies. “She said you were by yourself, asked if I would check on you. We rescheduled, it’s fine.”

Eddie nods once and pulls the couch throw tighter around his shoulders with his good arm. A petty, possessive piece of him is pleased. That Buck’s there. That Buck would drop everything for him.

He’s always been wary of Taylor. Even way back when they first met and she was prowling around the station filming everyone and flirting with Buck. But now? Now he’s jealous, his stomach twisting at the very reminder that she has Buck the way Eddie wants him.

But at the same time…he hates that. Hates the jealousy, hates feeling possessive. Because what claim does he have over Buck’s affections? None. Especially not when he can’t even admit to loving him outside his head.

He hates it because he knows that more than anything, Buck deserves to be happy. And maybe Eddie could make him happy, but—

Even if Buck felt the same—and Eddie isn’t convinced of that, doesn’t have the arrogance to assume—what right does he have to say please, to say wait, to ask Buck to put his life on hold indefinitely while Eddie sorts through the tangled mess in his head in the hope that one day he’ll finally be ready? He can’t be that selfish. Especially not with Buck.

Buck deserves to be happy. Even if that’s with Taylor Kelly. Even if it means Eddie loses him.

He doesn’t get to be jealous.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Eddie replies quietly. “I’m fine.”

Buck sets the bag in his arms down on the coffee table.

“You don’t look fine,” he points out. “Actually, you look like shit. Isabel was right to call me.”

“I’m fine,” Eddie repeats. His heart pangs at the concern in Buck’s eyes. “Really, it’s okay—you should—you should—”

Go. Call Taylor back. Enjoy your date.

He wants to do the right thing. He really does. But the rest of the words refuse to leave his throat.

Buck shakes his head anyway. “I’m not going anywhere,” he insists. “So tell me what’s going on. How can I help?”

Eddie bites his lip. Drags his hand over his jaw before making a face. The messy, overgrown scruff is itchy and difficult to manage on his own, and the foreignness of it doesn’t help him feel grounded in his own body when he wakes up gasping in the middle of the night.

“It’s stupid,” he says.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Buck replies. “And I’m here, so you might as well just talk.”

I’m in love with you, Eddie thinks. And I can’t sleep. And I can’t shave. And everything hurts. And I just want to stop being afraid—

He swallows. He can’t say all of that. He can’t blow everything up that way.

So, he picks the easiest one.

“I can’t shave with my left hand and it’s driving me insane.”

Buck blinks. Then he laughs as the worry in his brow smooths out.

“That’s it?” He asks. “Well, that’s easy. I can do that. Come on.”

And that’s how Eddie winds up sitting on the bathroom counter with shaving cream all over his face while Buck wets a razor and steps between his legs.

His breath catches.

“You good?” Buck asks, his voice low. His eyes are soft and focused, and Eddie almost regrets everything because the proximity—god, the proximity. He’s been so cold since the shooting and Buck is so warm, heat spreading through Eddie’s body from every discrete point of contact. Buck tips his chin back and Eddie lets his eyes slip closed.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I’m good.”

The razor drags along his skin. Neither of them say a word, the main sound in the room the drip of the faucet when Buck rinses the razor between passes. They’ve always been physical with each other, but this sort of thing is new. Intimate.

Eddie aches.

His eyes open a crack to watch. Buck’s lower lip is caught between his teeth, and having every ounce of that focus on him is…intoxicating.

I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Buck steps in closer, Eddie’s legs spread ever so slightly wider. A spark of heat flashes through him and he inhales sharply—Buck’s startled enough that his hand slips and the razor nicks Eddie’s jaw.

“Shit,” Buck swears. The razor clatters into the sink. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

Eddie opens his eyes the rest of the way. “It’s fine,” he assures. “What, you think I’ve never cut myself shaving before? It’s still better than I would have managed myself.”

“I’m—” Buck looks stricken, his fingers reaching out to gently cradle Eddie’s jaw only for him to snatch them back almost instantly, the tip of one faintly smeared with blood. His hand trembles.

“Buck,” Eddie says quietly. Buck’s eyes are fixed on the red smear and Eddie is sent back—

Watching his blood splash across Buck’s face and not realizing at first that it was his. Being half-delirious on the way to the hospital worrying that Buck had been hurt—

All this time, Buck’s been moving forward, pushing ahead, for Christopher, for him, for everyone, and Eddie knew he wasn’t entirely okay, knew he was fucked up from the moment in the hospital when he said I think it would have been better if I was the one who got shot, but since Eddie’s been home, Buck has seemed…better.

Maybe not. Maybe he’s been struggling to pretend as much as Eddie has.

Eddie twists around to grab the towel draped over the faucet and wets it enough to wash the rest of the shaving cream off his face, feels the sting of soap and water in the cut. And then he reaches out to grab Buck’s hand, wiping the blood off of his finger.

There’s something profane about blood staining skin. And something sacred in the act of washing it clean.

Eddie wonders if anyone helped Buck wash his blood off when he was in surgery. Taylor, maybe.

But no, that doesn’t feel right.

Buck probably did it himself. Alone.

“Hey.” Eddie squeezes Buck’s fingers. When Buck doesn’t look at him, he reaches out and curls his hand around the side of Buck’s neck, tips Buck’s chin up with his thumb to force him to meet his eyes. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m okay. No harm done.”

Buck breathes out shakily. His throat works, his face passes through a million stages—finally, his hands fall to the counter on either side of Eddie’s hips and his forehead drops to Eddie’s good shoulder. Eddie lets his hand slip around to the back of Buck’s neck, his fingers combing up through the short hairs there. He turns his head and he’s close enough to kiss the side of Buck’s, but he holds off. It feels like it would be too much. Too much when Buck doesn’t know how he really feels, what he really wants. But even just this—the closeness, the touch—is good. Needed. A balm to the itch under his skin.

When Buck turns his face into Eddie’s neck and inhales, Eddie thinks maybe Buck might need this just as badly.

“I’m okay,” he repeats, closing his eyes again as his fingers comb through Buck’s hair. “We’re okay. We’re okay.”

They stay like that for a long time. Buck’s phone rings out once, but neither of them moves to answer it. Eventually, Buck lifts his head and clears his throat roughly as he steps back.

Eddie’s hand falls away from Buck’s neck. He feels the absence keenly.

“You good?” He asks. Buck nods. His eyes are red.

“Yeah,” Buck replies. He pauses. Shakes his head. “No. But—can we just—can I just finish this for now? I want to finish this.”

Eddie watches him for a moment. Wets his lips. Then finally nods and passes over the shaving cream again.

“Sure,” he says. “I trust you.”

I love you.

Maybe…maybe eventually he’ll be braver. Maybe eventually, both of them will be free at the same time and he’ll be whole and healed, or at least something closer to it than he is now. Maybe eventually…love will be enough. Maybe.

For now, he has this.

#chapel writes #eddie diaz #buddie #buddie fic #prompt fill #911 fic

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welkinsky · 4 years ago

Note

Congrats to 100 follower ✨💖 you really deserve it. You constantly put quality content out there 🥺

As for your celebration, what about the alphabet for Kakashi? 🥰

Kakashi X Reader | A-Z Headcanon

Masterlist

A-Z Headcanon

Warning: 18+ Content

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Once you two are done and tired, he's gonna take a moment and then turn over to you to smile and adore how flushed you look. He usually kisses your forehead and then pulls you into his chest. Once you two are all calmed down. "You want to hop in the shower baby?" Still running his one hand through your hair. If you say you want to rest a bit more, he gets up to get you water and towels, or if you say yes then expect a "Round 2?" joke on your way, which wasn't actually a joke.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of their partner’s)

Your thighs! Doesn't matter if you have thick thighs or not he likes to grab them while you're on top or you two are just chilling and he is running his hand through them and they slip certain places "by accident"

In a non-sexual way, it is your hair, for sure. He likes to bury his face in them because the scent of the fresh shampoo is relaxing to him. If you change your shampoo he'll notice it right away, expect a new bottle of the same shampoo on the shelf next to your new one the next day.

C = Cuddling

Cuddling with this man is a dream! He likes to be all over you with one leg over yours and your face buried in his chest. Even if you are being the small spoon, his one leg will be over you and your head resting on one of his arm and his other arm over your shoulder pulling you closer to his chest.

Whenever you two are on a nap date, his hand is always resting on you. He becomes restless when he can't find you but calms down after finding you on the other side of the bed. Then just keeps his palm on you rather than pulling you in and waking you up.

D = Dirty Secret

This one time, you two had an idea of taking some nudes together just for fun to see whose turns out to be the better one. You both set a rule to get rid of them after the winner was announced, which never happened since you two were so turned on in the process that you two ended up doing it. You forgot it but he still has your photo with him. Shut up, it helps him on long missions.

E = Experience

He was not a virgin, but he wasn't much experienced either. If you want to know more about this scenario find it here.

In starting he kept things vanilla, he didn't want to freak you out. But you wanted more but that was the case with you too so this one time you stole his Itcha Itcha to read what type of stuff he was into. AND YOU ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT. You had to read it as fast as you can because he'd notice that it was missing.

And when you suggested something, it was a shock to him because he knows exactly how to do it but to ACTUALLY experience it and that too with YOU? The guy was in actual heaven that day.

F = Favourite Position

It depends, he is a tease so he likes when you do all the work but just wait till he has your image of having one leg over his shoulder while he's pounding into you and you're all flustered, aaaaand the guy is pinning you down and going at it.

Or if he is IN THE MOOD he's gonna start with you on all fours and will end up having you burring your face in the pillow.

G = Goofy

Hehe he is the best type of goofy. He says the jokes with a straight face while everyone is on the floor dying. He only lets out a small laugh when you are laughing your "so-called ugly laugh" in front of others too.

But sometimes he starts laughing even before cracking the joke because it was that funny, "Oh boy, naah it's nothing" he says wiping a tear, off his one eye. You all will beg him but according to him "the moment is gone" lol he IS a tease.

H = Hair

His hair is sooooo fluffy! And after how little he looks after them? It is almost a joke on you. You take care of your hair a lot but this guy probably washes it with body wash and still has such good quality. He always says that it is a good diet to trick you into healthy eating too. This guy never misses a chance to do that.

I = Intimacy

Your emotional intimacy is something that is beyond this world. You both never knew that you were capable of feeling emotions so strongly. You're hurt? He feels this burning feeling in his heart that he can't get rid of. He is having a nightmare? It breaks your heart that you cannot do anything about what he had to go through.

Not for once have you two felt any sort of negative emotions to one another but just love and CARE! You love your people but for the first time, you've felt that "care" not from the words but actions.

For the first time, you two have felt that you don't have to do everything on your own, you can divide it and let your guard down for a moment because you know that other one will be there if something goes wrong.

J = Jack Off

He does it normally when he is out on a mission or away from you for a while. One thought of you can turn him on in that case.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Ohohoho where should I even start? He LOVES to handcuff you because that just gives him more power over what he wants you to feel. Which is why he likes blindfold too.

As your relationship grows he likes the risk factor too so he likes to do it in a tricky place. But while making sure that your reputation doesn't get compromised at any cost.

L = Location (Favourite places to do they do)

Umm isn't it obvious? Anywhere? Literally. But he loves to bend you over the kitchen counter and take you then and there as he enters the house and finds you cooking or just having a drink or something.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He will do anything you ask for while doing it to make sure that he will be able to see that face of yours when you have just let go and you're too flustered to even care. It shows him that you are enjoying it.

Or if it is just you pleasing him and you look up to him with "puppy eyes" heh don't blame him for what is about to happen to you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

You risking your reputation for the "risk factor". See, everyone sees you highly in the village and he loves the respect that they give you. He WILL NEVER ruin it just because he is feeling it right now and won't let you do the same too.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

It may not seem like it but he LOVES to give it to you. Actually, if this time it is more of a sensual one then he always starts with eating you only. It is his way of showing that you're his priority.

He has long fingers so umm ya. You're overstimulated most of the time. As much as he loves seeing this, he holds your hand with one while the other one is pumping in and out of you as he plays with your clit with his tongue.

He loves to hold one hand with you even while he is eating you out. Wow.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He starts with "slow as death" ones and then once you're begging to him theeen he goes fast and deep. You ARE lucky to have him honestly :')

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

You don't even have to say anything? You are looking good before you two go out? You'll be doing it before leaving the house.

It's not his fault! You look too good, it's your fault.

And sometimes these quickies turn into something more and you two end up staying home.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Risk who? That's all I'm gonna say.

S = Stamina

He can go for a lot of rounds. But if he is just back from the mission or has been busy all day and now he is tired. Please don't push him. Not because he is a "poor guy" or something, nooooo, this idiot will get horny and do it anyway. But regret in the morning because he didn't take enough rest.

T = Toy

He bought it only when you two started experimenting so you both have handcuffs (used for you only he doesn't like to be a sub that often), a blindfold, and a vibrator for sure. This fucker likes to edge you a lot.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Heh isn't it clear already? This guy is the definition of being unfair. As you start to get a little annoyed and turn to him and catch him smirking, all that "annoyance" turns into "lust" lol you simp! But can we really blame you?

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

If you are doing it somewhere out? He'll keep shut and even cover your mouth to avoid getting caught. But if he is at home, he will grunt a lot but will let out a loud moan once he reaches his high

W = Wild Card (Just a random headcanon because I cannot think of anything starting with W)

He cooks for you in the morning. That is the only time he can make sure that you have a good healthy meal since he is not there for lunch and you make the dinner.

If he is cooking in the morning then expect your lunch prepared for you too. *and meal prep for dinner* bro he wants to make sure that you are taking care of yourself because you work too hard okay? Shut up and have your fruits and drink some water as you read this...... Go now, sip some water.

X = X-Ray

He has a lean physique but specifically, his arms are muscular and they are getting buffer after you mention that you like buffed arms. Hehe being slick, okayyyy.

Also, he has long slim fingers, umm good for you.

But you like to draw in his hands too sometimes. Just some little things. He smiles at them as he looks at them later.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He kind of has a strong sex drive. Most of the time if it is because of the fact that he is too excited to try new things on you.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He doesn't sleep until he knows that you are sound asleep. He likes to take in the scent of your hair and just run his fingers through your hair to calm you down a bit. Do it back too, please. He loves it a lot! If you stop and start doing something else, he'll bring back your hand to his hair and make you do it for as long as you don't fall asleep. In any case, he is sleeping once you're asleep.

____________________________

Shikamaru is my favorite character but ya’ll are making me change my lane with how many posts I’ve written for Kakashi XD

Thanks For Reading and for the ask!

If you liked it you can check out the masterlist too!

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cheri-translates · 3 years ago

Text

Headcanon - Your son isn’t cute at all

Original title: 儿子一点都不可爱

Original author: 君兮耶君兮 (jun xi ye jun xi)

[ VICTOR ]

You’re certain that the strength of Victor’s genes resulted in that little guy at home being an exact replica of him. Even Victor can’t deny that your son resembles him greatly in terms of appearance.

However, this doesn’t mean he acknowledges the resemblance of their personalities. At the very least, he feels that he wasn’t as studious during his childhood years.

Furthermore, Victor has half-jokingly pointed out that your son’s dislike for exercise is exactly the same as his mother’s.

“Victor, your son is bullying me again!”

Although your opponent is a little brat, you’re still unable to win. In this short round of Go, your white pieces have more or less been “eaten” by your son’s black pieces.

“Dummy. Don’t blame your son if your skills can’t match up to his.” Victor sets down the documents in his hand, walking over to observe.

Is this something he should be saying in front of the kid!? What about your dignity as a mother?

You turn around with a glare. “You were the one who taught me how to play Go. My teacher didn’t teach me properly!”

In the past, you’d typically respond to Victor’s remarks with a stubborn retort. Nowadays, you simply toss the bucket to someone else.

“If you make that move, you’d be sending yourself straight to a loss,” Victor comments, seeing that you’re once again putting a white piece where it’d definitely be “eaten”.

“Who says that I’m making that move?” You flick your wrist, salvaging the fate of the white piece, along with your pride. With a dignified air, you continue. “A true gentleman keeps silent while watching a game.”

“Mom, putting your piece here isn’t any different from the other spot.” Your son notes expressionlessly. With a thud of his black piece, he is only one move away from “eating” your white piece.

“...”

Despite the truth in his words, being ridiculed by your son truly upsets you. “We’ll continue. What happened earlier was a tiny mistake.”

In the following rounds, your white pieces grow sparse on the board while Victor observes the mother-son battle calmly. Or rather, watching as you get obliterated by your son.

Wanting to prolong the competition despite the lack of prospects, you courageously seek Victor’s assistance. “Hubby, help me out!”

Ignoring his son’s awkward expression, Victor rubs your head in a comforting manner. Picking up a piece and placing it onto the board, he instantly rescues several white pieces from a tragic ending. “Next time, give your Mom a chance. You need to give some confidence to opponents who are weaker than you.”

Your son nods in half-understanding.

“...”

Victor, don’t think I can’t tell that you’re calling me a noob!

[ GAVIN ]

Just as you wished, you had a son. However, there are times when you really think your son isn’t cute at all!

Your son watches you sternly, hands on his hips.

“Mommy, Dad said that you can’t eat ice-cream these days.”

“Be good. If you don’t say anything, your dad won’t find out. Also, I’m not the only one eating. You can have one too~” You attempt to bribe the little fellow who is utterly loyal to Gavin.

He rejects your suggestion decisively. “No way. Dad will get angry.”

This so-called anger is simply Gavin displaying a cold expression momentarily. Away from his son’s gaze, you’d play coy and Gavin would release a sigh of resignation before gently reminding you not to commit this offence again. To you, this isn’t a deterrence factor at all.

Since your son can’t find out about this little secret, you huff while returning the ice-cream into the fridge. Then, you grab a bag of spicy sticks from the snack basket.

Before your fingers touch the jagged edges of the opening, your son stops you.

“Mom, no spicy sticks either.”

“...”

It truly isn't a good feeling to be ordered around by a child.

Bored out of your wits, you bury yourself in the sofa, watching as your son stuffs the packet of spicy sticks back into the snack basket. “What other things did your dad prohibit?”

Your son tilts his head as he recalls. “Aside from ice-cream, mala soup, snacks, fried chicken, there’s nothing else.”

“...”

And he called that “nothing”!?

With the loss of snacks, you feel like your entire life has turned dim and gloomy. You get up coldly before walking into the bedroom listlessly. “I’ll take a nap. When your dad gets back, tell him to face the corner and stay there.”

Your son obediently agrees.

Close to dinnertime, your honourable husband returns home. Even before he removes his shoes, his son calls out to him. “Mom asked you to stand at the corner.” The little rascal gloats slightly.

“???”

Gavin is left dumbfounded, and has no idea what he did to anger you. “Where is she?”

“She’s asleep.”

After standing at the corner for ten minutes, there’s no stirring from the bedroom. Gavin pokes his son, who is sitting at the entrance and reading a book. “Go and check if your mom has woken up.”

“Nope.” Your son refuses instantly.

“Why not?”

“Mom said that if I supervise you until she wakes up herself, she’d buy me the latest model aeroplane.” The little child’s eyes brim with anticipation at the thought of the new toy.

“...”

So he abandoned his father for a new model aeroplane?

[ LUCIEN ]

“Mom, do you really not know how to do this question? Dad said that this question is very simple.” Your son looks up with a frown, only to see your frustrated expression as you rip up a sheet of rough paper.

“...don’t listen to your dad’s nonsense.”

The way Professor Lucien defines the word “simple” is completely different from ordinary people, all right?!

“Dad won’t lie to me. Mom can’t do it because she’s too stupid!”

Ever since the little fellow followed Lucien to the research centre, his admiration for his father has risen by another degree.

Having your self-esteem trampled upon, you toss the pen aside. “Why don’t you ask your dad then? I’m done with this!”

Isn’t making cream puffs more enjoyable than solving problems? Why should you continue torturing yourself?

“...”

The little rascal pinches the booklet and heads into the study room. “Dad, I think I made Mom angry.”

“What happened?” You rarely lose your temper in front of the child.

His son shows him the question in the booklet. “Mom couldn’t solve it, so I called her stupid.”

“Apologise to your mother!” Lucien thinks that aside from him, nobody else can bully his Little Miss. Not even his son.

“Okay.” Your son responds obediently before going downstairs.

By the time Lucien finishes his work and heads into the kitchen, he spots you stuffing a cream puff into your son’s mouth. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Next time, just ask your dad directly if you have any math questions.”

“All right.” The little rascal’s puffy cheeks resemble a hamster’s. When he sees Lucien arriving, he returns to his room to read books, giving the both of you space.

Amused by the mother-son interaction, Lucien waits till his son leaves before entering the kitchen and reaching out for a cream puff. Before he can even touch one, you whack his hand away.

“Hm? It seems that my wife is angry with me too?” Lucien wraps an arm around your waist and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. Even though he’s exerting very little force, you're still unable to free yourself.

“I’m so sorry that I can’t do a question which, according to Professor Lucien, is very simple.” While he continues hugging you, you transfer the cream puffs from the baking tray onto a small plate.

“That’s okay. Having one adult who can teach him is enough.”

You pout. “Your son called me stupid earlier.”

“Nonsense.” Lucien gives you a tap on the head. “My wife is the smartest. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have taken so long for me to win you over.”

Lucien’s sweet nothings are becoming smoother and smoother. Pushing him away with your elbow, you pick up the small plate. “Go and give the cream puffs to our son.”

Initially thinking that the plate was meant for him, Lucien is stunned momentarily. His son had a cream puff personally fed to him, while he hasn’t even managed to touch a cream puff. “What about mine?”

You release an icy “hmph”.

“Considering Professor Lucien’s high IQ, I’m sure he can make them himself. I want to give these to my son, who is also unable to solve that problem.”

“...”

Why does he have to bear the consequences when his son was the one who angered you?

[ KIRO ]

“I’m back~”

You’ve just returned from a business trip which swept you overseas for close to a month, and it’s been a long time since you saw the two suns in your home.

“Mommy! Welcome home!”

“Miss Chips! Welcome home!”

The father-son duo exclaim unanimously, rushing over to the door with their similar faces and equally dazzling golden hair.

Your adorable son stumbles over to you, and you respond by squatting down and stretching your hands to give him a full hug. The little fellow tightens his grip around your neck to express his joy and how much he missed you.

Apple Box leaps around beside you to convey his welcome, and you can’t help but reach out to give him a pat on his fluffy head. In the time you weren’t around, he had put on quite a bit of weight.

The small entrance hall brims with a warm atmosphere... aside from Kiro.

At this moment, Kiro feels that his position in the home has deteriorated, and he shoots a killer glare towards your coquettish son and Apple Box, who weren’t sidelined by you.

“Miss Chips, did you not miss me... QAQ”

Despite the passage of time, Kiro, who has even become a father, seems to have become more childish.

You purse your lips. “Who said so? I missed you very much.”

“But you hugged him first and even patted Apple Box. You didn’t give me a hug.” The more he talks about it, the more insignificant he feels.

“Dad, you’re so heavy. Mom won’t be able to carry you.” Your son rubs salt into his wound.

Sure enough, Kiro gets offended by this. With a darkened expression, he pulls his son away from your arms, lifting him into the air. “Say that again!”

The little rascal struggles for a while before escaping from his grasp, then buries himself into your arms again. “Mommy, I drew you a picture!” With this, he sends Kiro a competitive glance.

Amused by the usual competition between father and son, you feed off your son’s excitement. “Really? My darling is incredible!”

“I’m incredible too!” Kiro is deathly afraid of falling behind. “Go away.” He pulls his son away from you once again. His left hand reaches behind your knees, and he bends down to carry you up. When he feels your hands tightening around his neck, he lets out a satisfied “hmph”.

“I can pick your Mom up in a princess carry. Can you?”

“Once I’ve grown up, I can do it too!” Your son gives him a glance of disdain. “Also, you’d be old by the time I grow up. I’d also be more handsome than you. Mommy will definitely like me more~”

“Looks like you need a spanking!” Kiro places you down before reaching for his son.

“Kiro, you’re not allowed to hit our son!” You hurriedly stop him before he can do anything.

“He was challenging my authority as his father.”

You tousle his hair in a comforting manner. “Be good. Actually, our son wasn’t wrong. When you’re old, you’d...”

“Miss Chips!”

“When you’re old, you’d still be handsome!” You chuckle gently, tugging him on the sleeve to make him bend down slightly. A sweet kiss lands on the side of his face. “Superheroes are the most handsome~”

[ SHAW ]

“Don’t make a mess out of our house!”

The moment you see the unsalvageable mess on the coffee table, the only thought that runs through your mind is sending this troublemaker back to the oven to be re-made.

“Dad said that an overly neat doesn’t have a homely feeling.” Your son tilts his head upwards confidently, continuing with his work on hand.

“So why are you doodling on the wall?”

The originally pure white wall has been morphed beyond recognition. And why does the style of this abstract art look so familiar?

Your son wipes his hands on a damp cloth at the side, then picks up a crayon. “Dad said that aesthetic sense must be picked up since young.”

Seeing the patches of postmodern art on the wall causes your blood to boil. “Can’t you use paper?”

As compared to your frantic state, your son is much more composed. “Dad said that I should strike while the iron’s hot when it comes to being inspired. I didn’t have time to find paper, so I drew on the wall.”

No matter what, you have to find the main culprit.

“Shaw, get over here!” Your twist your head and roar towards the living room.

“Did you allow him to draw on the walls?” You glare at him fiercely, causing his initial “yes” to quickly turn into a “I did not.”

Your son lifts his head in confusion. “Dad, didn’t you say that I should draw wherever I wanted to? You even said a child’s talent shouldn’t be stifled.”

“...”

With a grim laugh, you toss him a rag. “Since you allowed him to do it, you’ll be the one to clean up.”

“...son, use paper next time. Don’t draw on the walls.” Shaw finds a smaller rag and hands it to his son. The both of them begin wiping off the colourful traces on the wall pitifully, wishing they could travel back in time to stop this from happening in the first place.

Sitting on your son’s small bed while scrolling through your phone, you occasionally look up to supervise their progress.

Once they’re more or less done, your son suddenly pipes up.

“When can we head out to do graffiti?”

“Graffiti?” Why weren’t you aware of such plans?

“...”

Shaw has a bad feeling about this.

“Shaw. Explain.”

“It’s just... nurturing his artistic side...” His voice dies off at the end.

“Okay. Right now, I’ll be nurturing his mathematical side. Stand at the corner of the wall and count from one to a thousand.”

After tidying your son’s bed, you head out to pour yourself a cup of water.

Shaw tosses a sympathetic glance at his son. “Every man for himself.”

“As his father, you’ll keep him company.”

“...”

More translated and original works: here

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: Can, just state the author and the source

#mlqc #cheri shortcake

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