#and it is very hard for me to do things like that without instructions or a sense of consistency

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Anyone else have near-perfect executive function at work; but at home, have literally no energy or motivation to do anything except lie in a dark room, with something in or on your ears for several hours?

[talkorsomething]

Too [insert adjective here] for guard ...................

Well, it's only half related.

We "hit a pothole", "had a slipup", whatever you want to call it — sunday. Aka: for the sake of my sanity we are not labeling it a relapse but good god does it feel as though I have invited the demons back in.

I know why, but I don't really know why. Because, I mean... I never have, to begin with. So: when I decided i was doing it sunday, i accepted it. "Let it happen", as someone would probably say to me. It's not...

I've been thinking about it for a while now. It's like anything - it comes and goes, a few times a year, and no matter what, I always ignore it.

Except, maybe there's something I'm not paying attention to? Or, ignoring, is the better word for it?

Of course it would be the one thing I have happening in my life.

November, I was burnt out for unrelated reasons. It was a lot to take in. That made sense. Now? ... why now?

There's not really any pressure on me. Yes, I have to do things, yes, it will be noticed if they're bad, but ...... it's not important. We don't spend time on it. I'm coming back next year, but it might be at the cost of ... all of this. I think it's progress. I haven't touched my guitar in any serious capacity in over a year. I think it's progress.

I don't take compliments well. I can't tell if that's why I don't get them, but I'm not being corrected much either. Only when I drift too far from what the work is supposed to be, only after weeks of it going, I can only assume, unnoticed. I keep getting stuck.

...push it back down.

Telling me I'm doing good isn't telling me what I know I have to be getting wrong. I could take it, at the cost of... all of this. I'm anticipating, and I know it can come. This is not where I was when I started.

It's been said, I haven't been told, that not starting it means you're more of a burden, by making the other person have to do it first. I know that. I do. And still it doesn't help. I'm not drowning. It wasn't an accident, but it wasn't planned, either. I don't know you.

I don't know you.

I'm not a good person. I'm not a nice person. Every week I tell myself this is really it, and every week I come back, and ... what? Forget I ever said anything? Forget we're not friends?

Well, we're not, huh? Nobody is, with me. What you see I swear you misunderstand. You don't ask. If you do, well, I can't answer. We're at an impasse.

It's not even my fault we didn't make it. I shouldn't feel like this over nothing. I don't do anything. You will, correctly, not let me do anything, because potential doesn't matter if you can't back it up. If you won't back it up. I let things happen to me.

I don't even feel better. And, actually, ironically, i think i know what would let me feel better. If I can't be upset with anyone else, at least I can be with myself.

... but, well, not even that. Your heart in my hands, but I mean it diegetically. And metaphorically. I hate putting myself out there, I hate having to actually perform, and yet every time, no matter what, I do it. I'm fine. I only cared at the start, and even then not very.

I don't feel anything. Not a lot, anyways. I don't let it happen. I can't. I don't know what it'll mean if I start being honest with myself.

...

I've pulled myself out of this before. A few times, now. Different circumstances, but I've done it all the same. Seasonal depression notwithstanding.

I'm only here because I did things I was scared to. And still, I'm the same. No progress made. The only way out is to do it again but I feel like I can't. I can't.

Will someone just let me say that?

Will someone just fucking help for once?

[anantaru]

・✶ ｡ synopsis — capitano loves teaching his darling how it feels to receive pleasure by a real man <3

warnings — inexperienced reader & naive ?? reader, petnames used: good girl, size kink/size difference, age gap ? (he's mentioned as being older), fem! reader <3

the thought of capitano teaching you about pleasure and passion was unbelievably hot to the point where you couldn't wait for it to happen again and again.

yes, he's older and more experienced than you, so of course you believe whatever he tells you and certainly won't question all of the depraved things he'd ask you to do, the harbinger obviously know better than you do, correct? these thoughts never failed to echo in your mind as you found herself alone with capitano, the strongest and mysterious harbinger whose very presence sent your mind in a daze.

he towers above your smaller frame with his dark eyes piercing through the dim light of the room, the silent command in his gaze strong enough to send an entire army to its defeat.

you couldn't lie to yourself, especially not when it came to him— and you felt a thrilling mix of fear and anticipation as he sank inside for the first time, making your pretty mouth part with a high gasp as he pressed himself through your tiny hole— first his thick tip splitting you open, then his inches rubbing through you, his movements deliberate and controlled yet never too much where it could hurt you.

although before he proceeds, his scarred hand reaches out to your face, gently tilting your chin up to meet his focused eyes.

"you must trust me, you're aware of that, correct?" capitano's deep voice resonates through you, each word a promise of what was about to come as he begins to thrust into you gently, his next following words accompanied by deep grunts and groans, "only then i will teach you on how to receive the pleasure only i can give you."

you nod immediately, eager to feel more, your heart pounding in your chest as his experience in the bedroom was certainly undeniable— not only that but it was sexy, hot as the flames of a pyro user as the authority in his voice made you ache to comply, to please him too with all you can.

the rush of excitement at the prospect of being guided by someone who knew exactly what he was doing was enthralling as your body showed him such, and if you weren't so cock drunk, you'd notice just how hard and messily you're squeezing him right now, your pussy drooling and messing him up until he knows he's yours.

his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "wrap your legs around me," and begins to instruct, his voice a low growl that made your back arch up immediately.

without hesitation you obey, your legs encircling his broad waist as the closeness was beginning to turn intoxicating, feeling like minutes before you could feel true solace as you felt the strength of his body pressing against yours the more he'd add on speed and strength.

"good girl, very good," he murmurs proudly, his breath hot against your skin as one of his hands slowly slide down your sweat covered stomach before reaching your clit, "now, relax, alright? let me show you how to feel every touch, every sensation of me,"

his hand moves with practiced ease on your clit as he pinches it, tugs and teased it, rubbing over the pearl and igniting a trail of fire wherever he applied pressure the most as your body was responding to his every touch, your senses heightened by the sheer dominance he exuded.

"focus on my touch," he commands softly, your hips curving upwards so that you'd be able to get his cock to sink even further inside of you.

"feel how your body responds to me,"

capitano fucks you with purpose, tugging your hips deeper onto his cock with every grind as your legs begin to shake, the blur in your eyes making it difficult for you to see anything more than his panting demeanor— not only that but his cock was huge, splitting you apart like he's meant to do that, as if there was nothing more than this moment in your life which was deemed important.

the warmth of his drags against your walls pooled into your veins and flesh as his cock fucks and fucks and lets you squeeze his inches in and out until you end up hiccuping of being so full and satiated, almost feeling stupid as he sent currents of electricity straight to your core.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[asthe-crow-flies]

the perils and the afflictions are ganging up on me :(

[incognit0slut]

Since you want to be realistic can you write something about squirting? What if r has been trying to squirt but fails (because not all women can do that) but spencer is being patient and helps stimulate her?

(18+, MDNI) Unprotected sex, squirting, and no plot. This is just pure filth and very graphic ~2k words

-

Spencer tries to stimulate you into the most intense pleasure.

Wet. You were wet everywhere. Your skin was drenched in sweat as you lay against the bed. Your hair was a mess across the pillow, some strands stuck to your damp forehead. But the most intense sensation, the one that captured your entire focus, was the throbbing wetness between your thighs.

It felt as if every nerve in your body converged at that single, overwhelming point. How could you not when he was positioned between your legs, his body pressed firmly against yours, grinding the hard length of his cock against your soft, swollen folds?

You whimpered, feeling the underside of his cock brush your clit with every thrust. He had been doing this for what felt like an eternity, and you willingly accepted him, writhing beneath his body.  His sweat-coated skin slid against yours as you clung to him, his mouth hovering just above yours, lips barely touching.

You felt his hips withdraw, pulling back from your body before thrusting forward again. The slick mix of your arousal caused him to slip slightly, and the tip of his cock pushed into you without warning. You gasped at the sudden, intense stretch.

But just as quickly as it happened, he pulled out again, leaving you whimpering at the sudden loss. "W-Why’d you stop?"

He hovered above you, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. “I’m trying to stimulate you, remember?”

His palm brushed your skin, edging closer to your aching cunt. Your mouth fell open against his as he found your clit, slowly circling it with his fingers. You arched into his touch as he applied gentle pressure. 

“I-I am stimulated,” you convinced him. Your brows knitted together when his movements intensified, his fingers pressing more firmly. The sensation was almost too much, but not enough. “I’m ready.”

He shook his head. “You need to be relaxed and comfortable. It’s all about building up the right kind of pressure and being fully aroused.”

You sighed. “I don’t know why you’re so intent on making it happen… It’s never happened before.”

"It might happen now." "It won't. There must be something wrong with my body."

“There's nothing wrong with your body. Everyone is different, and that’s perfectly okay." He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "But imagine if it does happen…”

His voice trailed off as he continued to caress you, drawing a gasp from your lips. His movements were slow and lazy, but precise, focusing on the most sensitive spots with an intensity that belied his relaxed pace.

"Spence..." you whined. The slow, teasing pace was driving you wild, but you knew he could hold out much longer than you could. "I want to feel you.”

"Patience," he murmured, his fingers never ceasing their rhythm. "The more we build, the more intense it will be."

Your hips bucked into his hand, your body pleading for more. The tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter, your breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps.

"Please,” you breathed. The need in your voice was undeniable, and you felt him smile against your skin.

Finally, he relented, shifting his position into a sitting position before grabbing a pillow. “Lift your hips for me.”

“We’re using a pillow?”

“I’m trying something,” he replied. “It should help change the angle and make things feel even more intense.”

You raised your hips as instructed, and he carefully positioned the pillow under you, elevating your lower back. “I see you’ve done your research.”

A bashful smile crossed his face as he settled back between your legs. "Maybe a little.”

With the pillow perfectly positioned, he aligned himself again and slowly pushed into you. His eyes were fixated on the way your body welcomed him, but he didn't push any further. Instead, he began a slow, tantalizing rhythm, barely his tip moving in and out, teasing you with each shallow thrust.

The sensation was maddening. You felt every inch of him, the slow, steady strokes sent ripples of pleasure through your body.

"Oh, that's..."

"Good?"

"Very good," you managed, a moan punctuating your words.

How could something so simple feel so intense? Each teasing thrust seemed to make every nerve ending in your body come alive. The gentle rhythm, the soft sound of his breath mingling with your moans, created an atmosphere of pure, unadulterated desire. 

It was evident in the way his eyes darkened with every gasp you let out, the way his hands gripped your hips a little tighter. It was evident in the soft, slick sounds your bodies made with each teasing thrust, your arousal intensifying with every movement.

Your hands gripped the sheet as you fought to keep some semblance of control. And when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he proved you wrong when his thumb found your clit.

“Oh…” you moaned, surprised even by your own voice. The sudden, intense sensation sent a shockwave through your body, making you arch towards him involuntarily. His thumb circled your clit slowly, as if he was experimenting, finding the exact rhythm that made you quiver.

It was as if you were his perfect study, each movement of his thumb carefully gauging your reactions. He watched intently, learning what made you gasp and what made you moan, fine-tuning his touch to drive you closer to the edge.

"Stimulating the G-spot and clit simultaneously can increase your pleasure,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving your body. “It’s all about building the right kind of pressure.”

“Spence…” you gasped, your voice coming in broken fragments as pleasure overwhelmed you.

“Breathe. Trust your body.”

You focused on your breathing, drawing air in and out, as your eyes fixed on the sight before you. Looking up, you saw his messy hair shadowing his intense eyes. Your gaze then traced the line of his chest, down to his narrowed waist, across the soft curve of his stomach. The trail of hair leading down from his navel drew your eyes further down, and you paused, mesmerized by the sight of his cock moving in and out of you. 

Then he pushed deeper, stretching you further than before. The sensation was intense, a delicious mixture of pleasure and the slightest hint of pain as you adjusted to his fullness. Your fingers dug into the sheets, gripping them tightly as you watched him start to rut his hips into you.

You cried out as his thumb increased the pressure on your clit. It was becoming too much, the sensation was familiar yet different, and your body started to shake. He noticed your reaction and adjusted his angle slightly, aiming to maximize the stimulation while his thumb continued its relentless motion.

“Are you close?”

"Y-Yes," you managed to moan, your body quivering with the approaching climax. The way he angled his thrusts, hitting that perfect spot every time was driving you insane. He watched you intently, his movements never faltering, increasing the pace just enough to push you further. 

You felt the climax building, unstoppable, like a tidal wave ready to crash. "Spence... I'm going to..." you gasped, unable to finish your words.

He pulled out at that instant, and you thought the sensation would leave you, but it was already traveling through your body. You cried out, filthy and unfiltered, as your orgasm ripped through you. Your body convulsed, trembling uncontrollably as your cunt clenched around nothing, the release so powerful it left you breathless. 

Just as you started to calm yourself, Spencer pushed his cock back into you, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“Oh god…” you breathed, the renewed sensation overwhelming your still-sensitive body. 

He watched you intently, the way your body thrashed against the bed, legs instinctively falling further apart. Sensing an opportunity, he let go of your clit and reached to hold the back of your thighs, gently parting you even further, quickening his pace.

“Spence, I can’t—” you began, but your words were cut off by a high-pitched moan as he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

“You can take it,” he encouraged. “You’re almost there.”

You shook your head, feeling an unfamiliar pressure building. “I-It feels weird,” you whined, your head lolling against the sheets. “I need to pee.”

“That’s a good sign, it means you’re really close,” he explained gently, not slowing his movements but watching you more closely for any sign of discomfort. “Try to relax.”

Your body turned slightly, a fluid, almost hypnotic motion as the warmth deep inside you swelled, sending ripples of intense sensation coursing through your wet sex. The pressure built, unfamiliar yet compelling. 

“I-I really need to p-pee.”

“Shh, you’re alright,” he assured you. “Just breathe through it.”

Taking his advice, you focused on your breathing and felt him quicken his pace. You squeezed your eyes shut as he rocked into you harder. Every time his throbbing cock squelched through your aching core, your arousal spread to his pelvis, his thighs, and his knees. The intensity was almost too much, but also too good to want it to stop.

Your breath hitched when he momentarily pulled away, then abruptly replaced his already quick tempo with an even more vigorous pace and your cunt instinctively clenched around him, your muscles spasming fiercely as he fucked in and out of you with relentless force. Your body tightened, and that unfamiliar sensation returned.

"Spencer," you gasped, the words catching in your throat as you felt every inch of him. The friction was perfect—intense, almost overwhelming, bordering on unbearable.

"Let it out," Spencer encouraged, his hands finding your hips, guiding you with a firm, steady pressure. “I got you.”

"Fuck," you moaned, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes from the intensity. You blinked your them open and quickly noticed the fucked-out look on his face, the way his mouth hung open as he focused on your pleasure.

His gaze was intense, almost devouring, as he watched every reaction, every shift of your body. The deep lines of concentration on his forehead showed how much he was invested in your satisfaction, and how much he wanted to see you unravel.

It was the trigger your body needed.

With that, you suddenly climaxed, calling out his name in a trembling moan as all of your muscles spasmed together, legs buckling completely as you drenched him with your warm liquid. The pressure was so intense that the liquid pushed himself out, but he stayed close to you, holding the base of his cock in place as he let the tip rub against your throbbing cunt the whole time you convulsed. 

There was so much of your release drenching him and the sheets that you couldn’t believe he was capable of squeezing an orgasm so intense, let alone the satisfied smile he wore as he looked down at you in approval.

“You did it,” he murmured, his voice filled with pride and affection. His thumb gently traced circles on your hip as he lay beside you. “How do you feel?”

You took a moment to catch your breath before answering him. “Overwhelmed,” you whispered, a dazed smile spreading across your face. “And very wet.”

He laughed, a warm, infectious sound that made you feel even more at ease. He then grabbed your hip, his hand trailing down your leg before gently lifting it and placing it over his, turning your body toward him.

His hand rested comfortably on your thigh. “I think I can handle a little wetness.”

“You handle it very well.”

His grin widened, and he leaned in to capture your lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. “Do you want to do it again?”

You pulled away slightly. “That’s possible?”

“Absolutely. In fact, you can try to control it yourself.”

“…How?”

He suddenly pulled you on top of him, guiding you so that you straddled his hips. The sudden movement made you giggle, a light, joyous sound that filled the room as you buried your face in his neck. It was safe to say he helped you learn what your body was truly capable of that night.

[ellecdc]

hi!! i recently discovered your blog and i'm afraid you've singlehandedly brought back my harry potter hyperfixation. i didn't even know moonwater/darksun wasn't a thing until your posts ... i've been so out of loop

i was wondering if you could write about moonwater and a reader who's too nice for her own good. regulus being in a secret relationship with reader and remus, seeing reader being bullied and trying to teach her how to be scary or fight back but she's too adorable for it. so he just says fuck it and hard launches their relationship by walking her everywhere to scare away her bullies himself

such a cute prompt - thank you for your request! I hope I did it justice <3

poly!moonwater x whimsical!reader who's too sweet for her own good [1.1k words]

CW: fem!reader, reader is from Ravenclaw, her housemates are sort of bullying her, the boys are protective, Regulus threatens pain and torture, hard launching an up-until-then private relationship, fluff

“Dovie,” Remus cooed in that way that Regulus could tell he was sort of trying to be chiding but really couldn’t bring himself to be as stern as he wanted to be, “where is your scarf?”

You paused in shucking off your robes to look down at your scarfless frame as though you’d only just realised it was missing. “Oh, well, it wasn’t on the coat rack that I normally leave it on when I was getting ready for class this morning.” You explained breezily. “So I just left without it.” 

“Do you have any idea where it could be?” Regulus asked carefully as he fought against the protective ire threatening to bubble over; daring to draw closer to you in the privacy of one of the study rooms that the three of you often secluded yourselves in. 

The relationship was new - not tentative, yet delicate - and Regulus wasn’t exactly ready to welcome the attention that being a Black and a Slytherin could draw to what he deemed to be quite precious. 

“No, but it has the habit of showing up in the most peculiar places.” You replied, ever present smile adorning your face as Remus and Regulus shared a sympathetic and concerned gaze over your head, respectively. 

“Like where, amour?” Regulus pressed. 

Your lips pursed as you considered him. “One time it was hanging from the rafters in the great hall; that was very tricky to get down. Oh! And another time, it was wrapped in a bow around a pot of venomous tentacula; very cute, but the plant did nip at me when I tried to retrieve it.” 

“Sweetheart,” Remus cooed again as he sat forward in his chair, clearly feeling very sorry on your behalf, “who keeps doing that?”

Your brows furrowed at Remus’ obvious displeasure. “Well, I’m sure it’s probably my housemates? They have easy enough access to my things.”

“Things?” Regulus interjected. “Plural? They do this to your other stuff too?”

“Oh, all the time.” You agreed simply. 

“And you let them?” He continued, earning him a reproachful “Regulus…” from Remus. 

“Well,” you offered with a shrug of your shoulders, “they seem to have fun doing it.” 

“No, absolutely not.” Regulus declared as he stood. “Amour, stand up, we’re putting an end to this.”

“An end to this?” You asked curiously, though you stood as Regulus directed you to, allowing him to position you in the middle of the room. 

“Pretend I’m your roommates.” He instructed, fixing his robes and standing straighter as he ignored Remus’ snort of laughter who simply watched with intrigue. “Tell me to keep my filthy fucking hands off of your godsdamned things.” 

You pulled your lips in between your teeth as you looked at Remus nervously. “Erm…could, well, could you please keep your…filthy fucking hands off of my things…please?” 

“Amour,” Regulus chastised, “stop saying please. Don’t say please.”

“Well, it’s just that it’s a little rude, Regulus.” You explained as though Regulus might not have known. 

“I know it’s rude, amour. That’s what happens when people steal your things, yeah?”

“They’re not stealing my things.” You argued. “They…borrow them; I get them back eventually.”

“Yeah? Remus, do you often have to fight venomous tentacula’s for your things?”

“Not once.” Remus answered quickly, keeping his interested gaze on you.

“No? Why’s that?” 

Remus shrugged. “I’d probably be very rude to them if anyone tried to steal my things.” 

“You’re not rude, Remus.” You insisted, causing Remus’ teasing smile to soften to near painful levels. Regulus thought it was disgusting adorable. 

“I’m not rude to you, dovie. But you also don’t steal my things or play mean pranks on me.”

Your face fell somewhere between bemused and crestfallen. “You think they’re being mean to me?”

A pained sound actually emanated from the back of Remus’ throat.

“Well…I don’t think they’re being very nice to you, mon cœur.” Regulus offered softly, shooting a grimace over at Remus. 

“Well…why would I want to be rude like them, then?” You asked honestly, and Salazar’s saggy balls, if Regulus didn’t completely agree with you.

“You know what, amour? You’re absolutely right.” He agreed; lips threatening to turn up at the corners at your relieved smile. 

“Well, hang on.” Remus started. “What are we going to do about her things?” 

“Salazar help me, if you don’t tell me where the fuck you’ve put her scarf I will have you chained to the bottom of the Black Lake so godsdamned fast, Merlin himself won’t be able to help you.” Regulus hissed, one hand fisting the collar of a beady-eyed Ravenclaw and one hand shoving the tip of his wand into the bloke's jugular. 

“It-it’s hanging in the Hippogriff pen!” He offered quickly, struggling in Regulus’ grip. 

“Good lad.” Remus offered patronisingly from behind Regulus. “Now go get it for her.” 

Regulus released his hold on the bloke's collar the second he nodded, and the Ravenclaw couldn’t have taken off towards the Beast's classroom faster if he had tried. 

“Anyone else have any of Y/N’s things they’d like to cough up before we come looking for them?” Remus asked jovially, smiling at the cautious crowd that had formed when they heard Regulus Black and Remus Lupin of all people were on a warpath. 

“Uhm,” a witch squeaked as she stepped towards you, keeping her nervous eyes pointed at your boyfriends, “sorry, L/N…I, erm, I seem to have come across your History of Magic textbook.”

You smiled as though she was handing you a gift. “Thank you, Clarissa; I kept getting detention for showing up to class without it.”

Regulus was sure Remus could actually hear Regulus’ teeth clench from his place beside him, but Remus simply placed a placating hand on his elbow. 

“If I so much as see you even looking at her things again, Clarissa-” 

“You won’t!” Clarissa yelped, interrupting the end of Regulus’ threat before taking off down the hallway. 

“Do you have all of your things now, dove?” Remus asked after you, watching you look down at the book in your hands.

“Almost, but I’m sure the rest of my things will start showing up now.” You responded happily. Remus nodded in agreement, Regulus narrowed his eyes at the surrounding crowd as if threatening ‘they better’. 

The relationship was new - not tentative, yet delicate - and Regulus hadn’t been quite ready to welcome the attention that being a Black and a Slytherin could draw to what he deemed to be quite precious. 

But if welcoming the attention that being a Black and a Slytherin could draw is what it took to keep you happy and safe, well, he was more than willing to pull out all the stops for his sweet and too-pure-for-her-own-good girlfriend.

[augustinewrites]

“you’re an idiot.”

“really, doc? you’re gonna insult me after i came all this way to see you?”

you pause what you’re doing to stare down at wriothesley with a wholly unimpressed look. “you were wheeled in on a stretcher.”

(he’d even come in shirtless, one hand resting behind his head all laid out like a fontanian model in a clothing campaign.)

he dismisses the fact with a wave of his good hand, tsking. “only because sigewinne threatened to tranq me if i didn’t get on!”

you know for a fact that the head nurse is still stationed outside the infirmary in case his grace tries to leave without staying for overnight observation.

“she should have done it anyway,” you hum, taking his wrist and using it to carefully position his arm at his side. you nod at the nurse across from you holding the band to keep him steady. “deep breath now, your grace.”

wriothesley draws a breath and releases it quickly, grinning up at you. “so, what are you— fuck!”

“get him a sling,” you instruct, stifling a laugh as you let go of his arm and step back. “i’ll get him an ice pack.”

the two of you move around the infirmary, quickly gathering supplies as the duke lets loose a string of expletives that would make sigewinne faint.

it’s quite entertaining to see the duke pout, holding a heart-patterned ice pack to his shoulder. “i think i deserve a kiss for that.”

“a kiss is going to help with shoulder pain?”

“duh.”

this time, you don’t stifle your laughter as he closes his eyes and puckers his lips.

you pull a sticker from your pocket, pressing it to his waiting lips. “you were a very brave boy.”

his pucker turns into a pout as he uses his good hand to take the sticker off, sticking it to his discarded gauntlets. he looks more like a puppy than a wolf in this state.

with the worst of it out of the way, you begin tending to any scrapes or bruises.

it should be simple, but wriothesley doesn’t make it easy. he flexes playfully whenever your fingertips brush his biceps. insists on holding your hand when the antiseptic touches his wounds.

“okay, you’re all done,” you tell him, peeling off your gloves and tossing them into the bin. “but you will have to stay overnight so we can monitor you for any concussion symptoms.”

his brows raise as he clicks his tongue, smirking. “oh? are you asking me on a date?”

“no,” you say, tucking your clipboard under your arm. “i’m doing my due diligence as your physician.”

“but it’ll just be me and you and this very romantic lighting…”

“it’s dim light because someone keeps forgetting to put in the order for new ones.”

“they’re dim? hm, i didn’t notice. how could i when your smile lights up the room?”

you roll your eyes when he winks, but can’t help the heat you feel spreading across your face. “if you keep this up, i’ll have sigewinne and her tranquilizer gun stay overnight with you instead.”

“if i stop and you stay, will you at least have tea with me?” he asks, a hopeful glimmer in his eye.

“fine, i’ll stay. but only if i get to pick the tea,” you tell him, pulling a chair to the side of his bed and shedding your lab coat to get comfortable. “you’re especially insufferable when you’re injured, aren’t you?”

he reaches out and pulls the chair closer, so you’re sitting between his knees. “and yet, you’re finally succumbing to the temptation of my rock hard abs and winning personality.”

“no,” you deny, but you’d be lying if you said being this close to his spectacularly toned torso wasn’t doing…things to you. “it’s because you have liyue imported tea.”

“yeah,” he says, flashing you a charming, sinful smile that makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck raise, threatening to shatter your resolve. “if you say so.”

[kkayyerr]

i sick too! maybe you could do something with daddy rafe looking after a sick reader? i got very clingy when i sick. i hopes you feels better soon!

Sickening

Summary: Pogues let little!reader get sick and daddy!Rafe is not happy about that.

Warnings: Age regression; none.

Authors note: For everyone who’s sick and especially for @marvelfanfics1 🫶🏻.

Rafe was cursing himself for letting you hang out with the pogues. He would never let that happen, if only that day he wouldn’t have to deal with something that he didn’t want your little mind to know. Sarah asks him to babysit you, promising that nothing bad will happen to you and that she and the Pogues will follow all his instructions. Of course they hadn’t. Because if they had, you wouldn’t have stood in front of him right now, looking awfully sick. 

 „Sarah, are you telling me that you let her go swimming? In the middle of October? And where is her jacket?”

 Rafe was trying so hard to control his emotions right now, so he wouldn’t scare you, but he was failing. Thoughts of Pogues letting you do things that were actually dangerous made him furious, and he didn’t even want to hear any of Sarah’s excuses.He was even more mad at himself, for thinking that those assholes would actually care about your well-being and not forget about everything that he had said to them. He was about to start yelling at his sister again as he heard your trembling voice.

 „Daddy"

 Rafe almost immediately turned to look at you, and what he saw almost made him even more angry. You were standing in front of him, your gaze unfocused and your limbs trembling. You were obviously struggling to stay still because of the exhaustion. He quickly approached you, touching your forehead with his palm.

 „Baby, you’re burning.”

 He knew that you probably had a fever and that he has to do something about that immediately, before you would get even more sick. His hands quickly grabbed your waist, helping you to stay on your feet, so you won’t fall and hurt yourself even more.

 „We need to get you inside, can you walk?”

 You didn’t say anything. Instead, you just shook your head and did the grabby hands, letting him know that you would like to get carry on inside. Rafe nodded, picking you up and giving you a kiss on the forehead, checking your temperature once again, with his lips this time.

It was definitely too high. 

He waited a few seconds, as you were getting comfortable in his arms, wrapping your hands around his neck and then Rafe headed to the house.

 „We’re not done with that conversation yet, Sarah."

 Rafe said, before closing the door and carrying you upstairs to your bedroom. You felt too dizzy to even say a word, even though you were feeling so guilty for going against his rules just because he wasn’t there at the moment. You also felt sorry for Sarah, you didn’t want him to yell at her like that. When you got to the bedroom he carefully put you in your bed, immediately covering you in your favorite blanket that he prepared earlier, waiting for you to come back from your little playdate with the Pogues.

The last play date, actually.

He wasn’t planning on letting you hang out with them anymore, not without his supervision at least. After you were fully covered, he smiled to you softly and stood up, heading to the small medicine cabinet that he kept there just in case you would catch a cold or something like that. He then came back with the small pill and let out a small chuckle as you gave him a pouty face. 

 „I know, I know, baby, it’s yucky. But we need to make you healthy again, right?”

 You kept your mouth closed, making him roll his eyes. You would always become so grumpy and bratty when you got sick, and even though it was hard to deal with you when you were like this, he would still find a way to make you do as he said.

Always.

 „Don’t wanna”

 You mumbled, looking at him with a small frown, that Rafe honestly was finding adorable, even though he won’t tell you that. He rolled his eyes, one of his hands approaching your tummy. He then started to slowly wiggle his fingers in a threatening manner, warning you about the consequences of not listening to him.

 „Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy, or do I need to tickle that grumpy attitude right out of you?” 

 Your mouth opened right away, finally letting him put that pill on your tongue. You then swallowed it, hating that icky bitter taste that now was all over your mouth.Rafe patted your head, informing you that he’s proud of you for taking your medication so well, even though it probably had an awful taste.

 „Good girl.”

 Rafe’s face expression changed to confusion as he saw that your reaction to his words was unusual. Instead of the happy smile, he saw a little hint of guilt on your face that disturbed him; you had never reacted to his words like that before.

Have those Pogues tell you something about him that changed your mind?

„Baby, is everything alright?”

 You shook your head, looking a little bit embarrassed. You head tilted down, and he could’ve swear that you even wanted to cry for a second, but then you quickly put yourself together, letting out a loud sigh. Rafe was looking even more worried right now, not understanding what was the deal.

 „I’m not a good girl; I’m a bad girl, Daddy. I didn’t listen to you and... and.”

 He saw that you were getting even more anxious with every word that had come out of your mouth, so he decided to quickly stop you by pressing a small kiss onto your forehead, letting you know that everything is okay.

 "It’s okay. It’s my fault actually; I shouldn’t have left you with those... Pogues.”

 Rafe pulled you closer, holding your trembling body in his arms and placing his head on your shoulder, smiling softly to you. He wanted you to know that he’s not going to punish you for the mistakes that other people made—the other idiots, actually. 

 „But don’t scream at Sarah, otay?"

 He laughed at your ask, considering what he would have to say to his sister, so she would understand what problems she had caused this time. Maybe you were right; no amount of screaming will help her little brain understand that sometimes she has to take some responsibility.

 „Alright, alright.”

 Rafe didn’t want you to think about Sarah right now, because your body and your mind needed peace and comfort right now, not some stupid thoughts about his not less stupid sister. Not some stupid thoughts about Pogues.

 „But you still earned yourself a punishment, you know?”

 And the next minute, both his hands started to restlessly tickle your poor tummy. Well, at least you clearly didn’t think about stupid worries anymore.

Taglist: @marvelfanfics1 @rafecameronsloverrrrr @aew-regression-cove

[solarmorrigan]

Howling for You

For the @steddie-spooktober day 9 prompt: Werewolf Rating: T | Words: 1405 | CW: brief, vague descriptions of gore? (werewolf transformation) | Tags: established relationship, werewolf Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, fluff, a little hurt/comfort Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

This is… unexpected.

The thing is, Steve always tells Eddie to stay safe during the full moon. To stay away from Steve and just let him have his run in the woods. He’d never be able to live with himself if he hurt Eddie.

So Eddie stays inside. He doesn’t go out, no matter how curious he is (his boyfriend is a werewolf, and he doesn’t even get to see his wolf form? Criminally unfair) and no matter how mournful and lonely the faint howls sound in the woods. For once, Eddie actually obeys instructions.

Except– except for this time, when he realizes that Steve’s forgotten to take his post-transformation care kit out with him (fresh clothes, a bottle of water, ibuprofen, wet wipes for the worst of the mess). He doesn’t want Steve to be without—to do some kind of werewolf walk of shame in day-old clothes while covered in grime and who knows what else—and he figures he has time. The moon is barely in the sky, and Steve hadn’t left too long ago. Surely Eddie still has time.

(Spoiler: he does not.)

Eddie doesn’t manage to find Steve in the end, stumbling around in the dark woods, realizing that he has no idea where Steve goes to have his transformation. Instead, Steve finds Eddie.

And look, Eddie is only human. When confronted with a wolf easily twice his size, bright hazel eyes (familiar, but not Quite Right) flashing in the moonlight, sharply-clawed paws carrying him closer and closer at an alarming speed, it doesn’t matter how much he knows Steve loves him – Eddie assumes he’s about to die.

He drops the care package, wonders if he has time to run, wonders if he can even make his body move well enough to run at all, wonders if maybe playing dead would work – and that’s when the unexpected happens.

Steve– the wolf?– no, Steve, lets out a yip that wouldn’t be out of place coming from an excited puppy, galumphs forwards, tackles Eddie, and then… lies down on his chest.

His head is the size of Eddie’s torso, his large, wet nose resting just beneath Eddie’s chin, and he just lies there, looking up at Eddie with wide eyes and sort of wiggling against him. When Eddie cranes his head to look around Steve, he realizes it’s because he’s wagging his tail so hard that his whole body is shaking with it.

“Uh… Steve?” Eddie hazards.

He isn’t sure how himself Steve is in this state. Steve’s made it sound like the wolf takes over and his human consciousness takes a backseat, made it sound like he’s dangerous, but from where Eddie’s lying, he seems – well, not harmless, but certainly friendly.

Steve whuffs at him, and Eddie can feel the sound reverberate through his whole chest.

“Are you– do you know me?” Eddie asks.

In response, Steve opens his mouth—and yep, those are teeth. Very large, sharp teeth—lets his tongue loll out, and licks Eddie.

It’s… an experience.

He wiggles his way a little further up Eddie’s body after that, nearly knocking the wind out of Eddie, and wuffles his huge, cold nose right up under Eddie’s ear. His breath ruffles Eddie’s hair, and Eddie can’t help his immediate reaction to try to push Steve’s head away.

“Hey, hey, that – shit, that tickles!” he gasps, laughing a little as Steve lifts his head.

He whines at Eddie, his ears folded back, and fixes him with the biggest set of puppy dog eyes that Eddie’s ever seen. He can’t help his immediate reaction then, either.

He brings his hands up, stroking over Steve’s fur, seeking out a spot behind his ear to scratch, shushing him. His fur is thick, a little coarse on top and addictively plush and soft underneath, and it figures that Steve has good hair no matter what form he’s in.

“Dangerous, my ass,” Eddie mutters as Steve settles back in against him with a happy grumble. “You’re not dangerous, are you, sweetheart? No, you’re just a big ol’ puppy.”

It’s at that moment that Steve’s ears prick forward, his whole body tensing in alert. He stands up, towering over Eddie’s prone form, a growl rolling low in his chest, and a thrill of primal fear shudders down Eddie’s spine.

The growl doesn’t seem to be directed at him, though. Instead, Steve steps right over Eddie, intent on something making noise in the trees just at the edge of the clearing. His fur stands up as he tenses, coils, and then pounces into the trees in one powerful leap.

“Okay,” Eddie says, still lying, dazed, on the ground, “maybe a little dangerous.”

He isn’t quite sure what to do with himself now that Steve’s gone. Should he go back to the house? Should he wait? Something in him worries that Steve will be sad if Eddie leaves now (and something else in him worries that Steve in Hunting Mode won’t differentiate between him and any other prey, if he should go wandering in the woods), so he decides to set up in the clearing and wait.

Steve isn’t gone long. He comes back licking his chops and looking, somehow, very satisfied with himself. He yips again to see Eddie sitting up against a tree, excitement taking over his full form as he bounds over and flumps down on the ground in front of him. He rolls over, and Eddie can’t help but laugh.

“You want your belly rubbed?” he asks, sitting forward.

Steve whuffs at him, wiggling a little, his tail wagging as best it can against the ground, and Eddie isn’t rude enough to deny such a polite request. He sits up on his knees and applies both hands to the task, and he gets to find out what joy looks like on a werewolf.

It’s pretty good.

The night carries on like that; Steve will occasionally bound off into the trees, chasing a noise or a movement, but he always comes back to Eddie, sweet and gentle and playful in his movements. Eddie’s watch tells him it’s three a. m. by the time he starts to flag. The adrenalin rush at the beginning of the night had been enough to keep him going for a while, but he does need to sleep eventually, unlike certain beasts he could name.

Still, once Steve clocks Eddie’s continued yawning, he sits and curls up beside Eddie, nudging at him with his enormous head until Eddie gets the picture and lies back into the curve of Steve’s body.

There, cradled in warmth and security, Eddie falls asleep before he knows it.

His awakening is rude. He finds himself jostled to the ground with the morning’s first rays of sun in his eyes, and it takes him a moment to remember just where he is and why, but then he’s jolting upwards, trying to scramble up off his ass and find Steve.

He doesn’t have far to look; Steve hasn’t gone, he’s standing in the center of the clearing, tense and ready, as the dawn washes over him.

And then he changes.

It’s horrifying. Eddie has never heard a bone break before, and now he’s heard it in stereo. The snap of muscle and skin pulling back into place is sickening, and yet it’s all nothing compared to the noise coming from Steve’s throat.

The panicked, pained whine of a wounded animal morphs and changes in pitch until it’s Steve’s voice, ringing through the clearing in a final, agonized scream that echoes for long moments after he’s stopped making noise.

He sways, falls to his knees, and then Eddie is right there in front of him, gathering him close to his chest, holding him as Steve nuzzles tiredly into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

“I didn’ hurt you,” he slurs out, trying to cuddle in closer.

Eddie wraps his arms more tightly around him. “You didn’t hurt me,” he confirms. “Not a bit.”

Steve hums, eyes shut as he lets himself be held, be comforted in a way he never has been after his moonlight jaunts. “I think… I could smell you,” he says after a long moment, more of an exhausted, half-formed thought than a full hypothesis.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks anyway. “What did I smell like?”

Steve lifts his head, nosing up into the spot just behind Eddie’s ear, much as he had just a few hours ago.

“Home.”

[globaloppaaa]

Hey! Can you please do "babysitting with zb1"?

i love this idea!! got started on it as soon as you sent it! thank you for requesting bb, and as always if anyone wants to request more my inbox is currently open! might need some time as school is beginning for me again.

w/a: literally the smallest hint of suggestive theme of u squint to the point that your eye are just closed.

for hanbin, I don’t wanna say that this man has no flaws… but he really knows how to take care of younger siblings so any child is no problem at all. Heck, he’s probably taking care of you too. He’s got a lot of experience with taking care of others that it comes like second nature to him. Leaves you little notes of encouragement around the house when things start to get too stressful :))

jiwoong is doing your job for you at this point lol. Probably the most calm when one child throws a bit of a temper tantrum. His soft voice when he communicates to them can naturally bring a smile right back to their face. I feel like taking care of younger siblings pose no challenge to him whatsoever, I mean they’re just like mini versions of you two! Maybe he’s starting to get his head stuck in the clouds with the whole “mini you” idea…

If you’ve seen zb1 taking care of those twins on youtube you know well that hao does NOT know how to take care of children well. you’re lowkey 🤏 close to kicking him out with the way he talks back to the kid as if they’re both five years old. however watching the way you’re able to calm the child down really takes him by surprise, and he finds himself more willing to learn how you take care of them so well, while ultimately keeping both him and the kids under control too.

matthew tries so hard to be the best good cop of a babysitter he can be, though sometimes he forgets that bounderies and lessons do need to be learned! is the kind of babysitter that melts at the sight of the child’s puppy eyes and gives in to whatever scheming they may have up their sleeve. next thing you know there’s paint splattered on every surface but the ones paint is supposed to be on. “how could i resist?!” he says, giving u a pout while he attempts to remove the smear on his cheek, and honestly it’s hard for you to resist when he looks at you that way too.

you can bet taerae is singing those kids one hell’ of a lullaby every night WHEWWW. We all know how soothing his voice is, perfect for stormy nights or when’s there’s still a bit too much excitement past curfew. He’s definitely more of a practical kind of babysitter if that makes sense though. “Why do they play with rocks and twigs when the big screen tv is right there?” 🙄🤷🏻 Kinda guy. I will say that you and taerae are especially good keeping kids entertained. They adore his energy and humor and all the little skits he’ll put on. Babysitting with him leaves everyone smiling.

ricky is so elegant with it 😭😭 I don’t think you’ve ever heard him raise his voice because the children just obey without question. It’s almost strange lol. You two work as a great team! You make up the rules (because he likes listening to you too ☺️) and he’s the official communicator of said rules. Babysitting never feels stressful with him. His one downfall is that he will buy the kid(s) anything at anytime, and then he’ll buy YOU anything you want at anytime. He just wants you all to be happy what can he say?

gyuvin is surprisingly very good at babysitting when given instructions, knows what food is healthy and chewable, can easily make them fall asleep at curfew, and ensure the kids always keep a smile on their face. it’s hard to believe that when you run to the store, forgetting one item that all hell breaks loose. “i don’t know what to do when you’re gone.” he winces, in what looks like the most uncomfortable pose of defeat on the floor, the children jumping atop him in victory.

gunwook For sure knows what a child’s needs are, but learns all the details and the in-betweens from you! Definitely gets affected by cuteness aggression so sometimes it can be hard for him to concentrate, and then if YOU’RE there? Great, that’s a whole other distraction he’s gotta try and fail to ignore. Gunwook makes babysitting feel like a normal part of life rather than any kind of chore or job. He’s a bit head over heels on the idea of having his own family some day, and just maybeee he’s thinking about having it with you. 🤭

yujin i’m sorry but you’re practically taking care of him too. I’m not saying this because i think he’s a “baby”, but because he’s so socially awkward with the kids he can’t even hold eye contact lmao. For example, one of them might start to throw a tantrum out of the blue, and yujin’s solution involves him standing there watching like 🧍🏻😟. He’ll most likely start shouting your name for assistance… he really is trying his best! I think Yujin likes to let you lead with the babysitting, while also giving him a front row seat at admiring you being so passionate about making others happy and well cared for.

[is-the-thing-actually-jewish]

is Jewish Voice for Peace actually Jewish? I've heard a couple different things about that but no sources

@gryphistheantlerqueen also asked:

Whooo boy. So this has been sitting in the inbox for a few months, I wrote up a draft, and then it just sat... until this past week, when some new JVP BS hit the fan and gave me the kick to finish it.

Sooooo...

Verdict: Not Actually Jewish

(updated verdict after finding out about the “self-managed conversion” and “teacup mikvah”) Jewish, technically, and that "technically" is doing a lot of heavy lifting, and is actively debatable without access to a detailed breakdown of JVP’s actual membership rolls. 

In general summation, JVP is a far-left radical antizionist group that is headed by a few visibly antizionist Jews and whose membership rolls are either a strong minority or outright majority of non-Jews, based on variable statistics that they've released. Although they claim that the “majority of their members and staff are Jewish”, this seems to be both statistically unlikely and actively suspicious due to their noted tendency to instruct even non-Jewish members to speak #AsAJew on social media, and their instructions to do “self-managed conversions”.  However, due to their title, they are very popular with people who want a Jewish Stamp Of Approval for demonizing Israelis and Zionist Jews as a result. In effect, they are Jewish in the same way that people like Candace Owens and Hershel Walker are Black—as self-tokenizing minorities who throw the rest of their ethnic group under the bus in exchange for power and political access.

And despite the claims that they are “inspired by Jewish values and traditions” (as put on their website) and “oppose anti-Jewish hatred,” JVP routinely engages in antisemitic rhetoric, up to and including blood libel and antisemitic conspiracy theories, and acts as a shield against non-Jews who also engage in antisemitic rhetoric so long as the non-Jews in question remember to shout "For Palestine!" first. This is not an exaggeration. 

The primary example of their in-house antisemitic rhetoric is their "Deadly Exchange" program, where they explicitly and conspiratorially blame Israel as being responsible for American police brutality and militarization. However, for all of their fearmongering and blame-casting on the subject—as if American cops needed outside help in brutalizing minorities or gaining military-grade handmedowns from the Pentagon, both of which are explicit claims of the "Deadly Exchange" program—they have a hard time actually identifying specific deaths associated with the international training seminars they're holding up as responsible.

One of the the closest they've come to a specific allegation is claiming that "former St. Louis County police chief Timothy Fitch trained with the Israeli military three years before Michael Brown’s killing and the Ferguson uprising." (Note: this was in a video that appears to have since been made private.) But Darren Wilson worked for the Ferguson PD, not the St. Louis PD, and Fitch retired months before the killing. So he was in a completely different police department, and this is the closest JVP comes to pointing to specific deaths or acts of brutality that they blame on Israel. Everything else is literal fearmongering--up to and including the classic conspiratorial tropes of "secretive Jewish governmental influence".

JVP has also happily supported the words of white supremacists like Richard Spencer, taking his “You could say that I’m a white Zionist in the sense that I care about my people," statement at face value, using it as the basis for entire articles where they compared Zionism to White Supremacy as a deliberate misrepresentation of the ideology that is common on the extreme political Left (you can compare that treatment again with how Candace Owens treats the word "Woke" on the Right). Even when the Charlottesville "Unite the Right" march happened, JVP wasted no time in comparing Zionism with the very ideology fueling the people chanting "Jews Will Not Replace Us," saying that Zionism is "Jewish racial supremacy" and calling for a universal condemnation of the ideology as a form of White Supremacy... which was the exact sort of message that many of those same White Supremacists would have happily agreed with.  So JVP is essentially siding with literal White Supremacists,  even as they claim that "Jews are not the primary victims of White Supremacy."

JVP also engages in Holocaust revisionism, such as with this lovely quote from Cecilie Surasky, the deputy director of JVP, “I believe it is critical to situate the genocide of Jews in a broader context, and not as an exceptional, metaphysically unique event. Some 6 million Jews died, but another 5 million people were also targeted for annihilation.”

(another quote, from an article by Surasky, which compares Netanyahu to Hitler.)

This is just straight revisionism of the entire Holocaust and the unique fixation the Nazis had on the Jews. Literally, even when they were losing, they were diverting resources from the war just to kill more Jews. Quote Hitler himself, "Jews must be prevented from intruding themselves among all the other nations as elements of internal disruption, under the mask of honest world-citizens, and thus gaining power over these nations." The very basis of the Nazi ideology paints Jews as an existential threat to the human race's peace and security—a far cry from JVP's claim that the Jewish suffering in the Holocaust wasn't unique or exceptional.

Additionally, JVP ignores or re-envisions Mizrachi Jewish history. They call the very term Mizrachi “Zionist rhetoric,” and refer to Mizrachi “immigrants,” (“Deadly Exchange,” pg. 16-17), and claim “the Israeli government facilitated a mass immigration of Mizrahim” (“Our Approach to Zionism”) as though those weren’t the direct result of the mass expulsion of and violence against Jews in MENA countries. These weren’t immigrants, these were refugees. 

And as for the question of “Are they Jewish?”, well...

Statistically, they are not representative of the Jewish population as a whole, 90% of whom identify as some degree of Zionist in the sense of “Supporting Jewish self-determination.”  One does not need to be Jewish to join JVP, as they proudly state on their website. Their membership rolls are also extremely obfuscated, and the fact that they encourage their followers, whether Jewish or not, to post and speak “as Jews” on social media makes it even more difficult to figure out what percentage of their membership is actually Jewish.  Furthermore, they have instructions for their members to engage in “self-conversions” that are not acceptable to Jewish law or tradition, and misuse/appropriate other sacred Jewish traditions to the point that “blasphemy” is an accurate description, with their instructions on the mikvah (a sacred bath) being outright offensive.  

(note that one has to be completely nude and bare of any adornment or makeup to use the mikvah, which is a pure pool of collected rainwater to be immersed in, for context on the above... misuse.  Trying to claim this as being “in line with sacred Jewish tradition” is like trying to claim to be Catholic while also saying that the Pope is the Antichrist and that using beer and a doughnut for the Eucharist is acceptable. For more information on mikveh, see: The Jewish Virtual Library, Aish, myjewishlearning, or Chabad.

There's also no altar.

The irony of asking people not to appropriate while doing this is astonishing.)

It’s also telling that they straight up say they are “claiming” the practice as their own.

Furthermore, JVP has hosted panels on “antisemitism” in the past... headed by people who are not only not Jewish, but who have been credibly accused of antisemitism in the past.  

JVP has also endorsed The Mapping Project Boston, which was a Boycott, Divest, and Sanction (BDS) subsidiary, listing every “Zionist” organization in Boston, Mass. This included Jewish schools, elder homes, community centers, disability centers, and more; all of them painted with scary and misleading “links” to non-Jewish organizations to insinuate Jewish control of the state and city governments, invoking age-old antisemitic tropes of a conspiracy of Jews as they did so:

(first image is the Mapping Project, the second is a 1938 Nazi political cartoon)

The Mapping Project also, and this is my personal favorite, accused Harvard University of doing “racist science” for engaging in archeological and genetic studies of Jews and Jewish history.  Tellingly, BDS actually disavowed The Mapping Project (albeit for bad optics, not for the rank antisemitism they were promoting)... but JVP has not, even though the Mapping Project’s entry for the ADL reads as follows:

Masquerading as a “civil rights” group, the ADL is a counterinsurgency and espionage organization whose mission is to protect the mutual interests of the US and Israeli governments, and to eliminate solidarity among oppressed peoples, especially concerning Palestine. The ADL spies on and criminalizes activists (using its connections to governments, police, schools, and corporations) while undermining their work by pushing its own state-sanctioned, pro-“Israel” agenda. And while the ADL claims to represent Jews and to fight “antisemitism” on their behalf, the organization has supported anti-Jewish state violence and sanitized Nazis. The ADL cannot be reformed: it must be dismantled and whatever resources it has should go towards repairing the many harms it has done. (Emphasis added.)

Of course, JVP has also engaged in similar conspiracy-toned antisemitic dogwhistles, such as this fun bit from their first Deadly Exchange video:

So clearly (to me at least), they have no problems with The Mapping Project’s tone and presentation.  

And this isn’t even going into JVP’s routine promotion of blood libel, their egregious double standards, their approving of pogroms, their active support for Hamas terrorists and demonization of Hamas’ victims, their attempted revisionism of Jewish history, their abject rejection of Jewish culture, and their other actions that show not just bias, but outright hatred for 90% of the world’s Jews.  

As one commentator put it, JVP as an organization is very much like Autism Speaks is to Autistic people--a thinly disguised hate group that views the people they’re supposedly speaking for as the problem, and themselves as promoting the Solution.  To this moderator, they’re the equivalent of the Association of German National Jews, who were also known as the Jews for Hitler; they wanted to abandon Judaism and embrace Naziism... and they got sent to the gas chambers anyway.  

Mod Joseph

Sources:

www.adl.org/resources/backgrounder/jewish-voice-peace

www.jewishvoiceforpeace.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/Mikveh-Guide-for-Jewish-Voice-for-Peace-Outlined.pdf

(and also just... a general experience/exposure to them on social media, where even the most progressive actions taken by Israel, such as the recent ruling regarding queer Palestinians being able to claim sanctuary in Israel, being labeled as “pinkwashing”)

[3liza]

I feel very defensive about the "goth is bougie" shit because it is historically incorrect, yes, but also and more personally, because it just erases the generations of goth kids who grew up in trailer parks and project housing or just straight up homeless, helping each other out.

it's specifically such a supportive subculture for poor and neglected kids and I really fucking hate that this has been revised and erased. juggalos and goths are very culturally close and many subcultural people are both, and juggalos have the same (and, I would argue, even better defined) culture of collective support. the Skids in Letterkenny are not made up for the show, that's just a real type of rural subcultural person. this has also been forgotten in the interim but in the 90s and 00s we didn't even really refer to OURSELVES as "goths" very much except in a joking way. goths had regional endonyms (like "skids" or "trenchies") even if they could all go to a convention or a club in a city and in that context be all called "goths" together, once they went back home they would go back to being whatever the locals called them or whatever they called themselves. this is a whole linguistics and sociology subtopic that's out of scope for a Tumblr post but is sort of related.

my point is that people who wore actual rags, and sharpie instead of nail polish, and wet n wild eyeliner instead of black lipstick, and dyed their hair with markers or food coloring or kool-aid, were and are the core of the goth scene. the majority of the pictures the mallgoth blogs are posting are from catalogs, fashion shows, costume events, yearly balls and fetes like Wave Gothik Treffen, and other places where people save up literally all year, or many years in a row, to put together ONE outfit. and there's nothing wrong with that, personally I'm proud and pleased that our hard work is being recognized and preserved. but just like formal studio photographs from the Victorian era, it is not representative of the daily or even weekly (for clubs) reality of people in the scene, some of whom were completely out of goth clothing during the day or week just to fit in at work or sometimes just to get along without being bothered at home by family members who thought the Cure was Satanic.

the people who RUN the scenes, the promoters and DJs and gogo dancers and independent designers and people who run the mailing lists and websites, the people who organize the room parties at conventions, and yes even most of the original Burning Man camps like Thunderdome, they mostly live in poverty. especially if they're young. when people organize club nights and shows, they're lucky if they break even. I wasn't aware of any of this until I started working at DNA Lounge in San Francisco, which hosts one of the oldest goth nights in the country, Death Guild. I got to know the owner of DNA well enough to find out about the financial reality of the entire scene, even the people who own the means of production and the actual property in this case, and it's not lucrative. I mean, it sometimes is, if you're running a bar for normal people and have investment captain etc, but the majority of legit subculture economics is just barely breaking even. every single event is 90% volunteer labor.

the issue of labor is maybe the confusing thing for the zoomers who are confused. goth outfits take actual physical work. maybe the Aspirational Spectacle of Labor that makes up most of TikTok has made it appear unreal to the audience rather than something you can just sit down and do?

it takes forty seconds to make the fishnet tights into a shirt. you don't need instructions, you really can just look at it and figure it out. then you think, hm, if I can make fishnets into a shirt I wonder what other things I can turn into something else. your brain will amaze you. my mom would save her tights from her formal work outfits for me when they got holes or whatever and I would just go crazy with scissors and safety pins. lots of young designers are getting attention for this layered, tights-n-pins look at the moment and it really is a fantastic aesthetic but I wonder if people think there's something special about the people who make these clothes? there isn't. you can just do it at home while you watch trashy youtubes.

one time, around 2008 or so, @gothiccharmschool and I were at the photoshoot for tabletop RPG Unhallowed Metropolis. we were there with a bunch of local goths to all make the pictures for this book together. we had all brought tons of our costumes from home to cobble together outfits for the book illustrations, and there was a moment when I just handed Jilli a pile of black skirts and some pins and said hey Jilli, could you please make me up a bustle skirt for this model real quick while I shoot these other models? and of course she did, and they were beautiful, because she knows exactly what she's doing, and because that's all a bustle is: it's a way of bunching up a skirt with another skirt. you can do it at home. you don't need instructions or to hire a seamstress or watch a video. you can just look at something and say hm does it look like a bustle? let's drape it and play with it and pin whatever works. and then you wear it for the photoshoot, or to the club!!! and then next week you pin it a different way and it's a cape instead and you wear it again!!!!!!!

[kentoxo]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.6

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: yall... this is so long, so sorry. but thank you again for your patience, always appreciate you guys being so kind and considerate towards me. please enjoy this part!

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Tuesday

Nanami’s clients extended their visit. 

It has been more than a week since he and Haibara have been hosting them. Within that week, you might have seen Nanami maybe 3 times, if that. As much as it was good not to see him, you were a bit down. The once perfect dynamic now fell in the hands of complicated feelings and uncertain distance. The duality of emotion. 

You found yourself a bit lost when clocking in. Subconsciously, you’d head over to the cafe and get Nanami his coffee. But now, as his new assistants have been assigned to do that, your subconscious has trouble assimilating. Your cubicle area feels hollow without Nanami tapping away answering emails and clocking numbers. Lunches that were always coordinated were now taken on your lonesome. 

But, Haibara was one who would never let you get tortured by your own thoughts for long. “Y/N,” he sounds from behind. You don’t look over your shoulder, as your eyes are glued to your current assignment. You were fixing the words of a contract that Nanami and Takada curated together for a different client, making sure everything was concise and ready for the legal team to review. 

“Mm,” you hum in response, listening as he took a seat in what once was Nanami’s creak. 

“I have some work for you,” Haibara begins. “But before that, I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch later? With me, of course.” 

You type one more word before freeing the keyboard, “you have the time to catch lunch with me?” 

Haibara nods contently, “Nanami and I sealed the deal, so he and Takada shacho will be having lunch with the clients at that boujee steakhouse a few blocks from the office.” 

You smile warmly, “congratulations, Haibara! I’m really happy for you guys.” 

“Thank ya, thank ya,” he ‘humbly’ bows at your curt praise. “It was grueling but we did it.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t go with them to celebrate,” you ask, furrowing your brows a bit in confusion. 

Haibara shrugs, “I was invited to go, but I wanted to catch up with you. It’s been a bit of time since we’ve been able to talk, besides me coming to give you work from Nanami.”

He’s too good to me. “Ah, please don’t let me be the reason you miss out on the best T-Bone steak of your life,” you say in a lamenting tone. 

Haibara waives your worries, “you’re going through a shitty time, and I don’t want you to go through that alone. We can have a shitty time together.” 

“Pff,” you huff, but you couldn’t hide the smile you had. Haibara truly was a warm soul, and you were beyond lucky to have created such a good friendship with him. “What is the assignment you need me to do?” 

“Ah right!” Haibara fishes out a flashdrive from his black dress pants. He plops it on the desk, and flicks it towards you, the hard plastic sliding on the sleek surface. “This is the original presentation that you created for these very clients as the game plan for our collaboration. You made this in the case that it goes well, which it did.” 

“Correct,” you kept up. 

“Because they have agreed, Nanami needs updated numbers than the ones we have in all the charts and diagrams,” Haibara instructs, “nothing huge, just replacing all of those with our recent numbers. The information written will still be correct as it explains our steady ascension in the market.” 

“Got it, got it,” you spew, your brain getting wrecked from all his words. You take the flashdrive in your hand and plug it into your computer. “It shouldn’t take too long, but I’ll review the written work just to make sure it truly is consistent. I’ll also send you and Nanami an email noting all the changes.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

“Anyways, where are we eating?” You change topics upon the growling in your stomach. As you click away in editing the powerpoint, Haibara slides over a card to you. Looking down, it’s a small reservation slip for two at a steakhouse. “So you’re still getting steak?” 

“I never said I wasn’t getting steak,” Haibara says amusingly. He fixes the small strand of black hair that came out from his excitement and he looks down at the reservation eagerly. “Takada shacho says I should take you out as well, as your work backed up everything we did this entire week.”

You widen your eyes, “me?” 

“Y/N, you’re literally the biggest asset to this department,” Haibara whispers, attempting not to make your other colleagues feel inferior. “All these guys here are assets, too, but you are the direct backbone to Nanami’s reputation as our Head of Department. He can afford to make mistakes because you’re always there to reverse them or catch them before they happen. You’ve also made an effort to become the liaison between the team and Nanami, something that wasn’t quite there before.” 

You look away, ignoring his praise, “that’s very kind of you to say, but I’m just an assistant. I just do what I’m told, Haibara.” 

“You do what you’re told in a way that exceeds what’s expected of you,” Haibara notes. “Like I said, there was a reason you were transferred to our department. You’re resourceful anywhere you go, it seems, as I heard Sales was not your first department either.” 

You nod with a small smile, “you’re absolutely right, it was not.” 

“It was Legal, no?” Haibara recollects. “Hence why you assist with a lot of our contract-making in this department.”

“Someones gotta get these quick approvals,” you joke, “and you all are the turtles in that race.” 

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Finish up what you’re doing and get ready. There’s a steak with my name on it!” Haibara chimes, his brain filled with steak and wine. 

This weather was unkind. You knew it wasn’t going to be kind anytime soon, as Japan was going through the heart of the winter time, but you still had some heat to complain about. The two of you trekked through the fury of winds and snow to make it to the restaurant. Tae was kind enough to prepare a very hot tea before your lunch, as you visited the cafe for a few minutes waiting for Haibara to finish his own work (the hypocrite). He even drew a cute smiley face on your cup. 

“For Haibara.” Your coats and garments get taken by a few gentlemen at the front before being guided by the host. She guides the both of you through the restaurant, two menus under her arm. You could tell this was a restaurant frequented by the corporate workers in the area. Everyone was ornate in suits and office wear, with discussions of work blaring in every side of your hearing periphery. It made you glad you wore one of your favorite pencil skirts, as it was this tight fitting skirt that complimented your legs. Despite this being somewhat of a work lunch, you were glad to look nice in a room of intimidation. 

During your escort, the two of you caught the eye of Nanami, Takada, and the clients in a long table on your own. Haibara allows the woman to finish guiding the both of you, before he quickly nudges for you to join him in greeting them. Your face pales at the thought alone of meeting highly respected clients, but a pair of familiar hazel eyes puts you at ease. 

Nanami was the first to get up from his chair, and walked over to the both of you. He was… wearing a navy blue suit, with a black tie. It had been since the first holiday party you spent in the Finance Department that you saw Nanami in such attire. Even now, he still looks ever so sharp, with the fabric struggling to stay together against the mountains of Nanami’s muscles. Even with your feelings in disarray, there was no denying the instant uplift in feelings from Nanami’s smile. 

He rests one of his hands on the middle of your back, feeling the light warmth of his palm. His smile towards you doesn’t flicker for a moment, hazel eyes warm and rich like chocolate. “This is my true assistant, Y/L/N-san. Although Takada shacho has kindly lent me his assistants, this woman here is the one who truly does it all for me.” 

A few of the clients rise and go towards you to shake your hand. You shyly put out your hand and curtly bow before each of them. “I’m so sorry to make you all stand up and greet me while you all are enjoying lunch. Please, ignore me and continue!” 

“We’d be crazy not to greet a woman who is highly regarded such as yourself,” one gentleman hums. He shakes your hand, allowing the hold to linger as he eyed you. “Nanami-san has told us plenty about your work under him, so it’s a pleasure to see the beauty behind his words.” 

You feel your cheeks warm, “a-ah, thank you very much! That’s very kind of you to say.” 

Another client chimes, “don’t be so modest! Sit and eat with us!” 

You look over quickly at Nanami, before you face the president of the company. You find an excuse to free your hand from one of the gentlemen before curtly bowing at Takada. “Good afternoon, Shacho-san. I apologize for interrupting your meal.” 

Takada smiles warmly up at you, gesturing for you to go over to him. You lament leaving the safety of Nanami’s hand on your back and go over to Takada. From his seat, he offers you his hand and shakes it kindly. “You are not interrupting a thing, Y/N. If you’d like to join us, you absolutely may. But as you two both have a reservation, I’d hate to take you from that. I assume you two have some work to be discussed?” 

Haibara coughs, clearly allergic to the word ‘work’ during his break. But you go along with it, using it as a hopeful excuse to not sit with them. “Thank you for thinking of me when making the reservation, Shacho. Haibara kacho just recently touched on my new assignment from Nanami kacho, so I was hoping to get more details about it during our meal.” 

Takada smiles up warmly, “such a diligent worker. Remind me to thank Geto-san, as he was the one who hired you. We should have a meeting soon to discuss your growth here in this company, Y/N.” 

>Insert Geto being the head of the Legal Department, and the man who scouted you initially to be his assistant.

Your stomach churns at the thought of being transferred again. Especially since you’ve found a comfortable flow within your department under Nanami. At least, when it was comfortable. 

“I’ll be readily available for that conversation, Shacho-san,” you shyly let out. 

With your nerves running high, you begin to really realize your setting and take note of a few things. One, all of the clients have kept their eyes on you the entire time. Two, Nanami was glaring at the client that just finished shaking your hand. And three, of all things, you noticed that Takada has 4 vacant seats near him.. 

“B-but, I do hope you all enjoy your meal!” You quickly spew out, returning to the topic at hand. “I apologize for not being able to greet the remainder of your guests, Shacho-san.” Curiosity truly bested you. 

“Ah, they are just my assistants that you’re already familiar with, Y/N,” Takada informs. “They’ve been happily helping us host our dear clients during this time. I hope they’ve given you the opportunity to have some space from your helicopter boss.” 

Takadas joke lands well with everyone except Nanami, who now holds a less content expression. He quickly makes his way towards you, his eyes filled with conviction. On his way, he pats Haibara’s shoulder before cementing himself by your side. But you hold no feelings towards Nanami, as you were busy not trying to take any offense. Although Takada offered and you weren’t expecting a seat during this meal, it was peculiar that Nanami made no effort to include you.

“As the both of us are here now, I’d like to take the opportunity to speak to Y/N-san regarding the assignment I recently sent to her,” Nanami hums, moving more in front of you now. You remained quiet, no words finding its way out of your mouth. Nanami looks over at Haibara, “I’ll be borrowing her briefly, if that’s alright.” 

Haibara looks at you but you make an effort to tame his worry. Reluctantly, he smiles and nods, “that's perfect. Let us dine to a successful collaboration!” Haibara riles the men, as they begin to beckon over waitresses for a round of drinks.

Nanami takes this moment to guide you away from the suddenly energetic table, and brings you towards an elevator. There, a guard stood, but moved the moment he saw Nanami. He taps the elevator’s button before moving aside, allowing you two to enter upon its arrival. You two stood in the brass elevator, your short heels digging into the tacky red fabric on the elevator floor. Silence sauntered between the two of you. 

But now in this limited space, you felt a sense of calm. Though your feelings were still in a ditch, you were giving them more and more thought. You’ve been more or less conducting yourself well, considering the couple of days that you spent crying over Nanami’s words. It draws the question of whether or not your feelings were true towards him. Or perhaps they are true, and you’re just feigning it to cope. 

Either way, you couldn’t help but envy Nanami’s indifference. Your eyes lend over to him, seeing his straight stature, and sharp appearance. Both hands were housed in his pockets, and his eyes focused strictly on the doors of the elevator. You couldn’t prove it, but you had a very strong feeling that this was not going to go well. 

The elevator halts, and the two of you free yourselves after the ascend. It was the top of the restaurant, which was entirely covered by a glass dome. But the beauty of the floor was its greenery. Trees, shrubs, and flowers alike flourished in this greenhouse-like environment. You were quite impressed that these greens could flourish while the restaurant still maintained a comfortable temperature. 

In the center of it all, was a humble bar. 

“Would you like a drink, Y/N?” 

You pause. “Do you have any more assignments for me today?” 

Nanami simply shakes his head, starting the stride for the both of you towards the bar. “Just the assignment I told Haibara to share with you.” 

“Then I suppose a few shots wouldn’t be too bad,” you say calmly, loosening your hair from the tight ponytail you had it in. You allow your hair to bounce freely, finding a lot of peace from the release of the pressure. “Are you paying?” 

Nanami shakes his head, “Takada rented out the space completely. It’s under the company’s card.” 

“6 shots of Anejo, please,” you calmly requested the dark tequila. The bartender nods before disappearing to find the very expensive liquor. 

“I didn’t realize you were a drinker, Y/N,” Nanami begins. He pulls out one of the seats and offers a hand. You take his hand, feeling the bursts of emotion in your heart from his touch. His palms were cold, dry, and ornate with callouses. But somehow, his fingers were soft as they delicately touched the top of your own. You carefully take a seat, keeping your free hand under your rear to make sure your pencil skirt didn't hike up. The last thing you needed was to flash the guy who rejected you. 

You shake your head, “no, no, ‘m not so much of a drinker. But I do have a preference for dark liquors.” 

“I’m shocked,” Nanami takes the seat to your left, “you’re someone with quite the sweet tooth for drinks.” 

“I’m not really crazy about drinking, but I do drink. I prefer to get drunk quicker with less, than to waste money getting drunk after 10 sweet drinks.” 

“It’s on the company card, you wouldn’t be wasting money of your own.” 

You shrug, “force of habit.” 

It felt good to talk like this. Not restricted at work, nor floaty from Nanami’s presence. Though, you had to admit that the only reason you could speak like this was because you haven’t met his eyes since you two got here. 

Before another word is exchanged, your shots make their way to your area. The bartender kindly splits it between the both of you, and three shot glasses sit patiently before you. You pick up one of the shots, with Nanami following your lead. With a quiet clank, you both down your shot. 

“Mm, before I forget,” you murmur, dabbing the loose liquor from your bottom lip. You dig your hand into your pocket, fishing out the flashdrive Haibara passed you. “Here’s the revised presentation. I tweaked everything regarding our company’s growth so far this year, the revenue, how we will benefit from this collaboration, and prospectively how our clients will benefit from it as well.” 

“You did that all just today?” Nanami’s words were imbued with surprise. He was impressed. 

You shook your head, “I’m not that amazing, Nanami kacho. I was already drafting it during your time with them. I’ve had a lot of free time, as you’ve sporadically given me assignments, or independent work I have long been ahead of.” 

He quickly takes the flashdrive from you, “I don’t even know why I ask– you’re excellent, as usual. With that said, I wanted to ask you the question I wanted to ask from the other day.” 

“Hm?” 

“I’ve been wondering why you’ve been addressing me with ‘kacho,’” Nanami asks simply. “This has been a sudden and recent development that I don’t quite understand.” 

“You’re my boss,” you urge, your fingers sliding your second shot closer to you. You could feel your heart get just a bit heavier. “These are the formalities we’re to have with one another.”

“Y/N, you have not called me that since your first month under me,” Nanami reminds you. “It’s perfectly fine if you would like to revert back, but I would at least like a heads up, or a reason why.” 

“Do I have to tell you why I’ve decided to address you more respectfully again?” You take the shot glass in your hand, ready to down it. “It's the expectation.” 

Nanami shakes his head, “it is not the expectation anymore when this is something we agreed to drop. When you started calling me that, I wasn’t sure what happened. Would you like me to also address you with honorifics again?” 

“If you’d like,” you spew nonchalantly. You down your second shot.

“Even the way you speak is different,” Nanami points out. He, too, drinks his second shot. He shakes slightly from the sudden strength of the alcohol. “All of this started happening since the day I came over to your apartment to work. If I may ask, did I offend you on my visit?”

”Does it matter?” 

“It does matter,” Nanami coos, “to me, it matters. The way we get along is very important to me.” 

Your heart threatens to flutter from his words. But your hurt feelings were riding your mind, and producing your words. “I’m just your assistant. I was forced on you by Takada shacho.”

“And where did you hear that from?” Nanami looks over at you, trying to find answers in your distant expression. “Did you hear that through a rumor? Our department's amount of gossiping is unbecoming of my expectations.” 

“You have been working with this company for a long time,” you begin slowly. “Within your tenureship, you haven’t had an assistant since Haibara was promoted. Why did you accept now of all times?” 

Nanami emits a sigh, his hand snaking towards the third shot, “I’ll tell you if you look at me.” 

A nausea surges from your stomach, and your body goes a bit cold from nerves. You were able to speak so boldly like this from not meeting those hazel eyes, and that handsome face. It was easy to speak this openly without staring at his neat, blonde locks or the way his suit hugs his maintained body. It was all easy when you weren’t facing him, and the reality of your situation. It was easy not to look directly at your crush, and the feelings that haven’t tainted, even after his time at your apartment. 

You down the third shot, gesturing to the bartender with a lifted finger spinning in a circle. He nods at your request for another round and clears your now empty shot glasses. You emit a struggling sigh, slowly turning your head to face Nanami. You bit your tongue, noticing the glimmer of hurt in his own eyes. But he smiles warmly still, despite everything. 

“You’re still a woman of trade,” he says, almost in a relieving tone. “This sounds like we need to air out a lot of things between us. So I suppose this is the best time to be honest with you, yes? Geto and Shoko have told me all about your talent from being both of their assistants since you started. So I… had known about you before you were assigned to me. Shacho spoke to me about it, and I was less reluctant because I had heard nothing but good when it came to you.”

This was interesting. You had not a clue who Nanami was, only that he was the head of Finance. You never interacted with him, simply only knowing him through passing words from Geto, Shoko and your fellow colleagues between both departments. He was somewhat famous within the company for being such a hard worker, someone who got promoted seamlessly to an executive position within a year's time. But you were here for a paycheck, and paid no mind to irrelevant people. But he knew about you. 

“So, you accepted me because you knew I was really good at my job?” You began, squinting your eyes curiously. 

“Rather, I wanted to see if you were truly worth what was said about you,” Nanami explains. “Your ability to excel in different areas of work intrigued me, and I wanted to see how you would perform in my department.” 

“So you wanted to test me?” You spat, “like some experiment?” 

Nanami felt a pit of regret in his throat. “No, no, please don’t take it like that, Y/N,” Nanami backtracks, “you have no idea how impressed I am with your work, and have no regrets taking you on as my assistant. But word of mouth alone doesn’t convince me of someone's greatness. I had to see it for myself, if that’s less brute.” 

“What, were you just bored then?” You couldn’t really understand him. This was all too new for you. “What did you gain from this? Satisfying your curiosity by expecting a 50% chance of me not being what I’ve been highly regarded as?” 

Shots joined the both of you, but the heat of the conversation made them remain in the background. Nanami rubs his eyes with dragging hands, “Y/N, listen to me good and well, because I’m not going to let you misunderstand me. I am extremely grateful to have gotten an assistant like you because I refuse to have anybody that doesn’t match my work ethic. Although I was not a fan of having an assistant, I only ever heard good things. I knew you’d be great, but you surpassed my already high expectations of you.” 

“Nanami kacho–” 

“Please, stop calling me that,” Nanami interrupts you. “I admit that it’s a bit upsetting for our relationship to revert back into a strict manner. I can accept that you’re uncomfortable with it, but I’d at least like to know why and if there’s any way I can mend it.” 

“Can you make it clear what sort of relationship we have?” You nitpick now. 

“What do you mean?” Nanami’s expression held genuine confusion. “You’re my assistant, and I’m your boss.” 

You could feel yourself wanting to cry a bit. “So why does it matter if I address you as kacho again?” 

“Because we established some comradery between us,” Nanami points out, “is it bad that I feel comfortable with you to drop honorifics and be less formal?” 

“Do you see me as a friend?” You ask quietly, trying your best to calm the coating of tears in your eyes. You were seeing him in a gentle blur, almost the physical embodiment of your current feeling of disconnect. 

“I… see you as one of my most trustworthy colleagues,” Nanami carefully places his words in his sentence. “We’re friend-ly, in a sense. I enjoy working with you.” 

You were coming to your limit. You finally found the deadend that you were trying to avoid for such a long time. But as you faced Nanami, seeing his cheeks turn a light hue of pink, you knew that your heart would always be right. 

You like Nanami. 

You like the fact that he’s a workaholic, but is always content whenever you are able to ease his workload. 

You like that he always shows his appreciation towards you, never forgetting to say thank you, or reminding you that you were an asset to him and the department. 

You like that he gets excited when you plan your shared lunch, and already know what he wants/would probably like. 

You like that he wears the same blue shirt. 

You like that he drinks coffee with half a fig in it. You love that he confided in you regarding the reason. 

But, even so. 

“Nanami, you did offend me when you came to my apartment,” you changed topics. Your heart was beating fast, your nerves making you want to shut up and run away. But it was time to clear the air. It was time to give the confession you deserved to do before a rumor forced you back into your shell. “It regards the rumor you heard about… me liking you.” 

“Oh?” He was surprised. 

“Those rumors are absolutely correct,” you admitted, though your throat was ready to close up and force your words back down. You grab one of the new shot glasses and down it. “Mm,” you hum, wiping some loose liquor from your lip, “I do like you, Nanami. I have had a crush on you for a while now, but after the way you reacted to just the rumor of it, I couldn’t go back to how we were.” 

Nanami looks at you, his eyes looking desperately around your face. It was almost like he was waiting for you to say ‘just kidding!’ and laugh it off like it was a prank. But you only continued to down your shots, waiting for any response. You found solace in the alcohol, allowing it to rebuild the little courage that was lagging. 

“Why… how come,” Nanami’s words were spotty, you finally had him speechless. If only the context wasn’t shitty. “How come you never cleared it up that day? Why did you go along with it?” 

“Because you looked so relieved when you believed it to be just a rumor, a lie,” you spouted. Tears were finally welling up in your eyes, triggered by the recollection of that day. “Almost as if you were glad that I didn’t actually like you.” 

“It is… easier for me to be on my own than to be romantically affiliated with someone,” Nanami admits softly. His words were still fairly cool, but his tone was low in an attempt to not offend you any more than he has. “I’m not… good with people having feelings towards me. It complicates things. Especially if it's a coworker.” 

“We spend more time with one another than with our friends or loved ones,” you rationalized, “it’s not foreign if feelings develop between us, considering how much we see one another.” 

“So explain why I don’t share that sentiment,” Nanami says coolly. You widen your eyes at him, your heart finally turning over in its grave. He quickly holds your elbow, noticing the agony in your expression. Warm tears spill down your burning cheeks. His touch feels like lava. “That’s not what I meant to say, Y/N, please let me fix my words.” 

You snatch your elbow out of his hand, “thank you for being honest with me about your own feelings.” You grab a tissue from the box at the bar, and blow into it. You could tell your entire face was red, which was embarrassing considering you had to go back to the office in a bit. “I apologize that my feelings brought us here.” 

Nanami quickly puts an arm between you and the shot glasses you were aiming for, “Y/N, I’m sorry for being insensitive towards you. I didn't mean to say what I said just now. At least, not the way I said it.”

You shake your head, your eyes giving him a pained gaze, “no, no, it’s better like this. You’re being direct with me… I’d rather that you don’t try to spare my feelings.” 

Nanami felt his world go dim. It was strange to confront you like this. You would not be the first woman who ended in tears upon confessing their feelings to him. And he would always attempt to soothe their hearts before paying the tab of whatever bar or dinner they were left to sob. But seeing the light leave your eyes, and your hollow expression left a mark in his memory. 

He wanted to respond, but his mouth went dry. It was like the alcohol was on your side, as his tongue couldn’t even bounce off the words he wanted to say. It bothered him that you looked away and have yet to look back, almost like you were ready to leave your feelings behind right this moment. As if… you were moving on right now. 

He didn’t want to let you go back, not like this, no. But he felt powerless now. And before he could respond with something, anything, you hop out of your seat. He notices the shot glasses were now empty, and keeps his gaze on you. “H-hey, don’t go back like this– please have a glass of water and calm down first.” 

Your body was warm and loose, but you weren’t eager to be near him any longer. You ignore his offer. “Don’t lose that flashdrive for tomorrow.” You properly put on your purse, and adjust your pencil skirt. Before you leave, you face Nanami once more. You see his flush face, a mixture of his own complicated feelings and the alcohol taking its toll. His hazel eyes were dark, their glow was fleeting. He looked lost, and felt distant. But, you lend him a small, weak smile. “Thank you for letting me like you. It’s been fun.” 

“Y/N,” your name leaves his mouth like a broken piano key. You curtly bow and turn around, allowing yourself to cry more aggressively (yet quietly) as Nanami watches your figure get smaller until you are completely out of sight. 

But he knew better than to think you’d be out of mind, too.

Taglist: [Now Closed]

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro

[lolashifts]

SHIFTING ISN'T SPECIAL

please bare with me on this one bc it might be a bit longer than i expected (and excuse my very bad title-naming skills 😭)

in this essay i will try to put down in words exactly what i realised today as i started my first day into reprogramming my mind, something that i’m doing while following reya singh’s method. what is that?

shifting IS easy.

yes, i know everybody says it, but it’s the truth and i’m not telling you this as someone who shifts regularly to her drs, because i don’t (yet!). however, it did just click in my mind why people always say it and mean it. and i feel incredibly stupid for not understanding it waaay earlier than just now, 4 years into my journey.

now, let me walk you through the thought process behind this.

in reya’s 4-day method for reprogramming your mind, she instructs to write a list of your beliefs and non-beliefs. this may sound really silly and kinda useless at first - believe me, i woke up this morning thinking “what exactly am i supposed to do after that?” - but there’s a valid reason for it, which is to help you delete from your mind the idea that shifting is like a superpower that’s simply not for everyone and very hard to reach, when that is not the case at all!

in my own beliefs list, i’ve written “i am capable of shifting” right in between “i can speak english”, “i can write and read” and “i can eat --” (and some other things like “i can’t eat gluten”, bc i have celiac disease, “i can dream”, we all do! and “i can lucid dream”). you see where i’m going with this? i’m putting shifting in the same category as things we all normally do, that we sometimes don’t even think about doing since they’re such a natural activity. to this list i could add “i can breathe”, because we do it automatically, without even realising unless we focus on it. the same can be said for drinking or eating really, if you’re angry or thirsty you just go and get whatever pleases you the most and not dwell on it.

in the non-beliefs list, i’ve written obvious things like santa and the easter bunny (which isn’t common here in italy tbf but yeah) and sentences like “i can’t swim”, “i can’t draw”, “i can’t eat strawberries” and in between them also “i don’t fear shifting”. here, the point is that all these listed beliefs are stuff i know for a fact to be false: i can swim perfectly, i am an artist and i love strawberries + i’m not allergic to them or anything. by placing shifting there, i'm stating that just like i KNOW i can swim or whatever, i also KNOW i'm not scared of shifting.

you’re literally gaslighting your subconscious mind into believing what is real for a fact and what isn’t.

after writing down this list, which can be done on paper just like on your preferred device, i reread everything twice explaining to myself why i chose these things and why they are beliefs or not. that’s how i realised that shifting is easy. when people talk about it “clicking” they weren’t lying!

shifting isn’t special, this is what the list thing tries to prove you. it’s not special because, just like breathing and eating and reading, we do it subconsciously everyday. take your own first language: you speak it naturally without having to doubt it, and if you know a second language well enough like i know english for instance (my mother-tongue is italian) then you can even start talking to yourself and think in that language without having to search up translations.

what’s the difference with shifting then?

the difference is that shifting hasn’t been taught to us in the same way as a language has been, all throughout school. the same thing goes for reading and writing: we read and write naturally because we’ve been taught how to when we were young and it’s now engraved in our brains, just like with learning our first language, which is something we normally do thanks to our teachers, our families and the people around us, of course. this doesn’t happen with shifting in most cases, as we all know, which means it’s normal for it to take a bit to grasp as a concept and existing thing/activity. it’s natural, most of us human beings just don’t know about it, nor that we’re capable of doing it.

this is why i said it’s not special: just like breathing, everybody can do it (and so do you)!

going back to the non-beliefs list; i should also add that as a society we usually are taught what to believe in from a young age, and specifically what is believed to be a fantasy, a dream, or something real. as grown-ups, though, we have the right to believe in whatever we want, like shifting. as a realistic person, i understand that some people may have a hard time believing something as great as shifting could be true, because it genuinely doesn’t sound like it! so yes, this is also a factor that can and does make it harder for someone to trust their guts and expect to wake up somewhere that’s only fictional here.

shifting clicks for everybody at different times, but i hope this post will help some of you here understand it better and know that what more experienced shifters say always has a meaning, you just need the time to properly reflect on it to get it!

when it clicked for me a few hours ago i felt a huge rush of adrenaline and happiness bc yes, i can actually shift. i’m just overcomplicating it for no reason and so many of you are doing the same!

it’s okay though, we’ll all get there <3

(psa: if you saw any grammar mistakes or anything NO YOU DIDN'T and also please don't mind if this rant doesn't sound logical, i tried my best to explain myself like i wanted to 🥲)

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 23: Succubus

You'd be surprised by how many twice Succubus requests I got, but this one really interested me. Anyway, things get real weird, expect a lot of growing body parts (G!P) and a lot of smut.

Length 2.6K

Dahyun X F reader

You mindlessly click through websites, moving from one to another without a thought before slumping over your desk. You stare out the window, feeling lonely. A small pop-up catches your eye, “Looking for a friend? Summon one.” It looked like any other of those ridiculous websites you might get ads for when you were looking at porn. Something about it draws you to it, though. You click on the ad. The website it brings you gives you instructions on how to summon a friend, giving you instructions that would best be described as occult. As dumb as it all sounded, you were bored enough to try it.

You follow the instructions, as the website explains, by making a large circle in the middle of your room, writing ruins and whatever else the website tells you. As far as you’re concerned, you should follow any instructions they give you. Once you had your summoning circle set, the last step was to provide it with a drop of blood. You prick yourself and smear your blood in the middle of the circle. Unsurprised when nothing happened. You begin to walk away when the circle lights up bright red, filling your room. A dark portal opens when the circle once was, and a woman starts to float from the abyss; she hovers above the now shrinking portal. She’s naked, her milky white skin on full display for you. You begin to worry about what you got yourself into when the portal entirely shuts, and the young woman lands in your room. She opens her eyes slowly, her eyes on the floor until she looks up at your body. The young woman meets your gaze and smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Dahyun.” She says confidently, walking over and around you, looking you over.  “For what reason was I summoned here?” 

“I’m lonely and wanted a friend.” 

“A friend?” Dahyun takes a deep breath and stops in front of you. “I’m sure I can help with that. My name is Dahyun.” You introduce yourself to the young woman, trying to look away from her body but having a hard time. 

“Could you put some clothes on?” 

“If you have something for me.” You quickly head to your closet and grab some shorts and an oversized shirt for Dahyun. When you return to her and hand over the clothes, she puts on the shirt but refuses to wear the shorts. You feel too awkward to argue with her and leave it at that. 

“Let’s watch TV and get to know each other.” The idea popped into your head because it had been a while since you talked to anyone. Dahyun agrees, and the two of you settle into bed, with you putting on a show that you like. You try to start the conversation, but Dahyun is too focused on you. You could feel her hands move along your body as you tried to watch your shows. You can feel her press her body against yours, her soft breasts rubbing against your arm. “Let’s have some fun,” she whispered. Dahyun’s words echoed into your mind, hypnotizing you; you agreed like a switch being flicked. Your heart beat quickly; Dahyun smirked and climbed onto your lap. She cupped your cheeks, running her thumbs across your face before leaning in and kissing you. You submitted to her; Dahyun snuck her tongue into your mouth, exploring it as she pulled the bottom of your shirt up. She pulled away to get your shirt off before kissing your stomach as she pulled your shorts and panties away from your body. 

There you are, before the Dahyun, naked. You feel her hand move along your body; her touch is intoxicating. She presses lips against your neck, sucking on it gently and marking you. “You should know I’m very experienced. I have over a hundred years of it; just let me do what I need to.” You nod your head; in the back of your mind, you wonder just what you summoned, but that thought quickly disappears as Dahyun's fingers graze your slit. You shiver; the pleasure was unlike anything you had felt.  “I’m going to show you a whole new world,” Dahyun says softly as she takes your hand and moves you off the bed. “All your desires will be made bare.” She says as she pushes two fingers into your cunt. 

You wrap your arms around Dahyun, struggling to stand as she curls her fingers and rubs your walls. Your legs grow weaker, and you fall to your knees. You look up to see Dahyun toss her shirt off. She takes a step closer to you and places her hand on the back of your head, pushing you toward her pink cunt. Compared to her milky skin, it stood out and kept your attention. You glance at Dahyun, who nods. You moved closer, your tongue outstretched as you ran it between her lips. It didn’t feel like you were in control of your body anymore; it moved automatically, even if you tried to tell yourself to stop. The more you lapped at Dahyun’s cunt, the more you heard her soft moans, the more you became engrossed by the woman before you. 

Dahyun sensed your resistance; even though your body was pleasing her, she felt something off about it. “Is this not what you like? I can change that.” Dahyun lets go of your head and takes a small step back. You watch as she rubs her cunt, moving her hand in small circular motions. Then things started to change; her clit began growing longer, thicker. As it grew, you watched it take shape, it was a cock. Dahyun’s body was growing a cock. It kept growing, becoming massive, the biggest you had seen in real life.

Her cock grew before your very eyes, stunning you as it finished forming. The longer you stared at it, the more you wanted it, and Dahyun knew it. She grabbed her shaft and traced your lips with the tip of her cock. You unconsciously stuck your tongue out, licking at it as it moved across your lower lip. Dahyun placed her hand on your head; you knew what she wanted. The succubus didn’t ask either, instead pushing her hips forward and sliding her cock into your mouth. Your tongue ran along the underside of Dahyun’s cock; she continued to push her length inside, making you gag as she hit the back of your throat. “You’ll get it soon enough,” Dahyun says, rubbing your cheek and staring into your eyes. You nod slightly, hypnotized by Dahyun’s sweet gaze. As Dahyun begins to thrust into your mouth again, but this time you stop gagging, she’s still hitting the back of your throat, stretching it around her cock, but you’re not struggling anymore. The older woman gropes her breasts, squeezing her pink nipple between her fingers before doing the same to the other. You run your hands over her smooth thighs; you take in her body again, her milky white skin something that attracts you to her. 

You feel Dahyun’s cock throbbing in your mouth; you glance up and meet her awaiting gaze. “Drink,” she says, her command strikes deep. You feel the first spurts of hot cum hit your tongue, and as more comes your way, you begin to drink it. You feel lightheaded, barely able to think as you drink more and more of her semen. Dahyun watches intently as you gulp down her load. She smiles and pumps away at your throat until she’s done. Finally pulling out of your mouth, she watches as a thin string of saliva connects you to her cock. “Aren’t you going to thank me?” Dahyun asks. 

“Thank you, Dahyun,” You mumble before leaning forward and kissing her cock. Dahyun smiles and pats your head. You smile at Dahyun before standing up; the older woman runs her hands across your breasts, flicking your nipples before her hands settle on your waist. You moan her name as she pushes you onto your bed; you crawl back, laying in the middle as Dahyun climbs up and over you. She caresses your cheek, smiling at you before grabbing her cock and rubbing it against your slit. You groan as you feel the heat coming from her cock. “Dahyun, please,” you whimper, your cunt it aching for her cock. The longer Dahyun rubs her cock against your wet slit, the more you want her. Your body feels like it's on fire. “Fuck me already,” you beg her, but Dahyun just continues to rub her cock against your slit, silently watching you squirm. 

She moves her cock to your entrance, aligning herself with you. You feel it spreading apart your fold as she pushes inside you. You suck in a breath as Dahyun pushes the head inside; you moan Dahyun’s name, holding onto her shoulder as she pushes more of her cock inside you. It pushes your walls apart, splitting you in two. It’s slightly painful, but the pleasure is more than enough to cover it. Dahyun inches her way inside you; as you look down, you see a bulge moving deeper into you. You nearly cum from the sight; your walls squeeze down on Dahyun’s cock. She finishes burying herself inside your cunt soon enough. You keep staring at the bulge in your stomach, prodding it. Dahyun’s soft, low groans bring your attention back to her. As you glance up at the older woman, she presses her lips against yours. Her red lips melt into yours; you can’t contain your moans as you feel her hands wandering your body, squeezing your tits and beginning to move inside you. Your body jerks and shudders as the overwhelming pleasure runs over it. 

“Harder!” You moan, surprising yourself. Your body demands it, though. Dahyun smirks and pulls out, leaving just the tip inside before impaling you with her cock. It feels like being struck by lightning; you arch your back and cum instantly. Your walls clamp down on the older woman’s cock, and you cover it in your cum as she slides in and out. You moan loudly while Dahyun continues to fuck you. You wince, struggling with the pleasure coursing through your body as Dahyun fucks your sensitive pussy. Your head begins to spin as Dahyun fucks you, and your body feels lighter. Ecstacy begins to take over, your moans become wild, and you lose your mind to the pleasure as Dahyun makes you cum again. The older woman doesn’t let up; she raises your legs, folding you in half and hammering your cunt. Dahyun presses her weight on you, leaning in to kiss you. She snakes her tongue into your mouth, sucking on it as she begins to pull back. You mumble her name, warning her of your next orgasm. Your cries become louder as Dahyun moves her hand down, circling your clit with her thumb. Your entire body tenses as you explode on Dahyun’s cock again. 

The older woman begins laughing as she sees you losing your mind. She pounds away at your body as she nears her climax. As her cock begins to throb inside your cunt, you beg her to cum inside you. “Aw, you want me to cum inside you?” Dahyun teases.

“Yes! Cum inside me, please fill my pussy.” You beg, the vulgar words leaving your mouth before you can think. 

Dahyun’s smile widens, and she gets by your ear, “Alright, you asked for it.” Dahyun drives herself into your cunt, slamming into your womb before unloading her cum into you. You roar as you feel her hot cum pour into your womb, painting it white as you slowly become full. Dahyun scrunches her nose as she pulls out, “Did you like that, baby?” You nod your head lazily, barely able to understand Dahyun. “Would you like to see what it’s like on the other side?” Again, you nod, scarcely able to hear Dahyun.The older woman lays on her side, her chest rubbing against your arm as she reaches toward your cunt; you feel her hand rubbing your folds, moving between them until she moves to your clit. “You asked for it,” Dahyun whispers into your ear. 

Your head shoots back as a euphoric pleasure fills your body. “If you want it so bad, I’ll make sure you can, at least, temporarily.” You stare at the source of your pleasure and see your anatomy changing, your clit growing longer and thicker until it takes the shape of a cock. Dahyun massages it, working her magic until the process is done. You’re breathing heavily, staring at your cock; it was hard to believe you have a cock. You reach down hesitantly, touching it and immediately being hit by a wave of pleasure. Dahyun smiles and grabs your cock, running her hand over it. You shudder at the immense pleasure.

Dahyun crawls away from you; you stare at her backside, watching as she makes her cock disappear, a wet slit taking its place. “Go on, fuck me,” Dahyun says, raising her ass and pressing her face into the mattress. You stare at her ass, licking your lips as you crawl to her. You want to eat it, to run your tongue across her pristine skin, but your cock controls you. It twitches as you see her pink pussy, there for the taking. You press yourself against the older woman, clumsily thrusting between the older woman’s legs, feeling her soft thighs jiggle against your cock. Dahyun giggles before grabbing your cock and forcing you to slow down for a moment. She aligns you with her entrance and waits for you to make the first move. You’re practically drooling as you grab onto Dahyun’s waist. You slam yourself inside her tight cunt, cumming in an instant. You feel your cum shoot out of your cock, dumping it all into Dahyun. 

You were going feral; you kept thrusting into Dahyun. You watched her ass bounce on your cock, but you wanted more from her. You reached around and squeezed her modest breasts, ravaging her body. Your nipples dragged along her back, keeping the euphoric feeling going as you dump another load into her pussy. You could only repeat her name; it was your only thought as you continued to thrust. Her pussy felt so good, it was wrapped tightly around you, squeezing your cock. How you could live without this pleasure was beyond you, you continued to slam your cock into the older woman, pouring more and more cum into her as you lost all control. You slip out of Dahyun, but your body continues moving. You thrust between her thick thighs, covering them with your cum. When you cum for a fourth time, it sprays onto Dahyun’s stomach and tits. Exhaustion hits you suddenly; you continue thrusting between Dahyun's thighs, slowing down until you collapse. 

Dahyun smiles at you, caressing your cheek, “Poor baby, you got too excited.” She says before scoping some of your cum from her stomach. She sucks on her fingers, tasting your salty cum. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have nothing left to give.” Dahyun straddles you, rubbing your cock between her folds and sinking onto it. You groan weakly as she begins to bounce on your cock, moaning as she gropes herself, tugging on her nipples and rubbing her clit. The last sight you have before you pass out is Dahyun’s messy body bouncing on your cock. 

The following day, you wake up with Dahyun beside you; her body is clean. You throw the blanket off your body and look down; your cock is gone. You gulp as you stare at the older woman, who sleeps peacefully. You wanted your cock back; you wanted to fuck Dahyun again. You needed it. Dahyun continued to sleep peacefully, fully aware she had you in the palm of her hand.

[love-quinn]

— PARTIAL CREDIT

summary — when a new member of the waitstaff starts undermining you, you worry that your job might be in jeapordy. carmen knows you better than you think.

warnings — swearing, i think that's it

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, semi (?) established relationship

pronouns — she/her

word count — 2.2k

note — i know i fully dropped off the face of the earth but unfortunately i was too busy channeling waitress reader a little too hard, i actually have to leave for work in a few hours but i really wanted to get something out. this 100% isn't inspired by true events or me projecting in any way, anyway i hope you enjoy!! <3

Being the only waitress at a successful restaurant is hard. During the dinner rush, between wiping tables, grabbing drinks and running food, you’ve slowly learned to be more adaptable to the Bear’s new clientele base. That’s not without its struggles, of course. 

Fortunately, Carmy and Natalie seem to understand that it’s a major handful to simply do your job. Which is why Richie thought it appropriate to call you in two hours early to meet the new waiter.   

Liam’s nice from what you’ve gathered. He’s been working with you at the Bear for about two months at this point, most of that has involved you and Richie training him, and he’s been very receptive to your instruction. 

Sure, sometimes he mutters under his breath when a customer asks him for something, but hey, they’re annoying sometimes. And sure, sometimes you find him in the walk-in on his phone, but you’d be lying if you said you were never on your phone at work. He’s had no complaints, and the work is always done to a standard that’s expected (he is still in training, you’re not delusional). 

You’ve worked at the Bear since they were still the Beef, right after Carmen took over. He realised Richie couldn’t keep up with the stuff at the front by himself, so he’d gone with the cheapest option available and thanked god every day that you weren’t awful at your job. You had just graduated from UofC and if you didn’t get a job when you had, you would have been pretty much out of options. You had no work experience outside of being a TA in college (which apparently didn’t have a lot of transferable skills, according to most of your potential bosses). You hadn’t been able to score an insane internship, you didn’t make super stellar grades, you’d been too busy being desperately poor and struggling to keep up.

You’d been really lucky that Carmen had taken a chance on you when he had, and you had been desperate to show him you were aware of that. Liam didn’t seem to have the same sentiment.

He was the same age as you, and he’d actually gone to UofC as well. He’d gotten a pre-med degree but wanted to take some time off before he went for his MD at Rosalind Franklin. 

He picked up on the work fairly easily, remembered when you showed him where the cleaning supplies were, showed him how to work the buttons on the till to ring in orders, and introduced him to all the staff. They were nice to him, nice enough. It took them a while to warm up to him, just like it took them a second to warm up to Carmen, to Sydney, to you. 

But now, several months in, they all got along enough that work was going well. You didn’t have to work six days a week if you didn’t want to now that Liam was there to lighten the load (you did, you made sure Natalie knew that). Now, you could actually take your lunch break without worrying they were being completely overrun. 

On the whole, things seemed to really improve. 

Until, of course, they didn’t. 

You started hearing whispers, soft remarks of “Oh, I did that for her,” to Richie about greeting table seventeen. Small “I wonder why that wasn’t done, I’ll just do it quickly.” 

“Not to be that person, but I noticed that a lot of the straws haven’t been stocked up. I feel like I have to do it every time. I just wonder what she’s doing when she’s back here…”

You do your best to not let it get to you. He’s never worked in the service industry before, he’s probably just doing his best to make sure that his efforts are being noticed. You were almost lucky, in that way, that you were the only real waitress they’d hired. 

It’s an unusually warm day as you slide in through the back entrance to work. You’re your usual twenty minutes early, lucky that there’s enough work to do that Carmen often encourages punctuality (and thus, fairly compensates for it). 

Liam is scheduled today, but he’s leaving after the lunch shift. You get your break while the kitchen does prep-work for dinner, and then you’re coming back for dinner as well. 

Marcus is in his corner, kneading bread dough with a concentrated look on his face. You brush past him with an airy hello that he returns with a half-hearted wave, not looking up from his task. 

Tina is on vegetables, and she stops you for a moment to ask about a shipment arriving. You assure her that you’ll check when you get to the other side of the kitchen, making your way to the front.

The chairs are already all down, table cloths clean and freshly washed. Sydney went down to the laundromat to get them all clean that morning; she’d texted you and asked if you wanted to come but you told her that you really, really didn’t. 

Your first job is a pre-opening sweep, then a restock, then a menu review. You have 87 minutes until service, and Liam should be here in the next fifteen minutes or so. You have just enough time to go and bug Richie into showing you more pictures of Eva’s last birthday party. 

You stick your head into the office just in time to catch the tail end of a sentence that you definitely weren’t meant to hear; “...doesn’t even stack the chairs? What is she doing here?”

Your work anxieties - the idea that every time something goes wrong it was your fault, that one missed drink or late appetiser would have you fired, that every time a customer berated you it was actually your fault - had definitely eased some in the six months you’d been working there. You’d stopped thinking that every time someone was complaining it was about you, but that meant that when they really were talking about you, you knew. 

Liam’s standing there, leaning up against a pile of papers that Carmen is staring roughly at. He looks tired - when doesn’t he? - and like he doesn’t really want to hear whatever it was that Liam was saying. 

“A lot more than you do,” Carmen grumbles. He runs a hand over his face from the bottom up, coming to a rest when it’s gripping onto his curls. 

“I’m always covering her sections,” Liam groans. “The amount of time that Rich’s given me her table’s drinks, it’s insane. We should start pooling our tips.”

Carmen wants to say a lot back to that. That his name is Richie, and calling him Rich doesn’t make him any more like the finance frat bros that Liam is so desperate to associate with. That tip pooling would be insanely unfair to you considering Carmy’s pretty sure Liam’s made less than what you make in a day. That he stacks the chairs because he likes to, and you know that. 

Instead, he settles on “you’re always covering her sections because she’s always covering up for you when you screw up.”

Liam looks like he’s unsure whether or not to go ghostly pale or beet red at the statement. “Wh- has my performance not been up to scratch, sir?”

Carmen stands. “I didn’t really notice it, at first, cause everything was going so well. She’d never tell on you, she knows what it’s like to struggle at a job.” He looks disdainfully down at Liam’s too-new dress shoes. Professional but impractical as a waiter. From what Carmen’s noticed, this is the second pair he’s ruined. “She’d never tell me that your silverware is never rolled, so she’s been staying late and rolling every single one of them. She’d never tell me that your tables are never cleared away. She’d never tell me that you had six meals comped in your first month because you couldn’t be fucked writing shit down.

So yeah, maybe you get her tables a refill when she’s too busy telling one of us one of your guests was coeliac because you forgot to, but that does not give you the right to look down your entitled fucking nose at her.” Carmen gets close, not close enough to the point where it could be uncomfortable, but much closer than he’d ever get to Liam if he could help it. 

“You don’t like picking up her slack? That’s fine, that’s fucking fine, because to be honest, it seems like you’re creating more work for her anyway. You’re done.”

He looks pointedly towards the door to the small office. 

Liam knows exactly what Carmy’s telling him. “Sir, I-”

Carmen raises a finger and points. “You’re fucking done.”

Liam scampers away so quickly he doesn’t even see you eavesdropping. 

Carmy knows, though. He seems to have a sixth sense for when you walk into a room. If you’re not planning on coming in to confront him about firing Liam then he has no intention of bringing it up with you. He sits down, putting his forehead on his fist. “Sir.”

You’re standing right in the door, it’s practically impossible for Carmen not to notice you. But he pretends, allowing you the chance to slip away and act like you hadn’t just witnessed him firing Liam for being slightly mean to you. 

He opens his eyes to see you standing there still. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” your voice is soft. The collar of your shirt is tucked underneath on one side, and Carmen has to resist the urge to reach up and smooth it out. He’s not quite sure why and he doesn’t feel like unpacking it. “He’s still learning, I don’t mind helping him out.”

Carmen doesn’t mince his words. “He’s a dick, don’t defend him.”

He swivels away from his desk and gestures for you to sit. After a second of hesitation, you perch yourself on top of the small surface. You’re not sure who moves first, Carmen to reach up and take your hands or you to reach down to let him. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, like a lot of things. How he always makes sure you get extra food and you make sure Carmen isn’t bothered while he sets up the dining room. 

You hadn’t realised how much Liam had been heightening your anxiety while he was there. “He’s not allowed to do that to you.” Carmy sounds genuinely pissed. “You do fucking everything out there, he’s not allowed to come in and treat you like some sanctimonious fuck. You… you should’ve come to talk to me about it.” He gives in. “You could’ve.”

“I didn’t want to be a problem.” You admit quietly. “You have enough without me.”

Plenty goes unsaid between you and Carmen. You don’t talk when he drives you home in the dark, in the snow. But he’d be naive to believe that the same rules applied to everyone else. The kitchen staff talks, none more than Richie. Carmy is surprised he hadn’t decked that pre-med asshole already. 

“You’re not a problem, honey,” he says gruffly. You stay silent for a moment before realising that’s probably all you’re going to get out of him. 

“I need to go prep dining for service,” you say after a moment, not wanting to speak too loudly. 

Camry’s grip on your hand tightens and for a brief second he feels panic set in. You clearly are feeling okay, so it’s not that he needs to check on you. You’re well ahead of schedule. There’s no reason for Carmen to keep his hand enclosed around yours. And yet he does. And yet you let him.

“Liam was just in here bragging about how dining room prep was already done,” he says after a short while. “You’re well ahead of time.”

“He is,” you point out airily. “I’d never want to take credit for his work.”

Carmen squeezes your hands once, eyes crinkling at the sides. You both know you need to go over everything Liam did in an attempt to make himself look better, not one hundred percent trusting him to have done it properly. There’s 56 minutes until service before Carmen finally lets you go (and only because he has prep he needs to get done).

Plenty goes unsaid between you and Carmen. You don’t say anything when he cracks his office door open for you when you need a breather. You don’t say anything when his station’s been cleaned for him miraculously while you’re waiting for him to finish paperwork.

Luckily for you, the rest of your coworkers seem to understand this time. Nobody mentions Liam or his absence. No one mentions the stars drawn on the band-aid on Carmen’s wrist. And, most surprisingly pleasant, no one mentions how Carmen has started calling you honey more than perhaps your real name.

It makes it even nicer when everyone heads out, leaving you and Carmen alone in the restaurant for the night. They seem to have miraculously developed tact over the last 24 hours, but you’re pretty sure nothing could have stopped Richie from telling everyone about the way that Carmen holds your hand the entire way to your apartment.