#growing pains thread mini

[egittae]

It was always the same thing with Rufus. About crests, about their titles, about who was more worthy of or deserved what- and it always ended with accusations and angry remarks thrown in Lambert’s direction. You ruined everything for me, it’s all because you have a crest and nothing more, you don’t deserve it, you don’t even work hard for it. I hate you. I hate that you were born and that you took what was meant to be mine just because you have a special knack that I don’t.

And with Matthias too, it almost seemed like a replay session of the same things over and over. Lambert couldn’t even pinpoint what he could’ve done to earn this treatment from the red haired boy- but then again, he couldn’t tell what he did to earn it from his brother either. It had been like this ever since he was born.

Lambert hated this. Rodrigue was nice to him, why was Matthias like this? Weren’t the two boys meant to be his retainers in the future? That means they should be friends, right?

“Don’t talk like that about my Father! He’s not gonna die like that!” Lambert yanked his sleeve out of Matthias’ hold, still refusing to fully turn to face the other boy. He wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing him cry, it was embarrassing enough. “I don’t care what you think at all!”

“You're supposed to help me, why are you saying I need to die?” He tried to land a punch at Matthias’ chest, but there was no strength behind it- a feat, considering how Lambert routinely broke steel by merely tapping at it. “It’s not gonna make me get better any faster! You’ll hate me regardless of what I do because you’re just like Rufus!”

growing pains

continued from this post | child AU/flashback, mini @cielenruine

[wosohours]

bracelets - leah williamson x reader

With Leah being out on concussion protocol, the club doctors ordered her to take a couple of days off to rest. While she is still able to do light activities here and there, she just had to be careful with things that would cause too much strain on her brain, like being on her phone, watching TV, reading a book, etc.

Although it is unfortunate that she cannot play for a bit, you both are grateful that you two get to spend some time together, especially Leah, since she likes it when you take care of her.

You have been doing your best in terms of trying to keep her mind off of her short recovery in the form of many different mini hobbies such as; diamond painting, legos, and puzzles. At one point you had faith that you could get Leah into baking but of course the second she passes the threshold into the kitchen disaster strikes.

Today you decided to get Leah to do something that will not only keep her busy but will keep her away from her phone for a bit.

Walking into your shared bedroom you greet Leah with a kiss on her forehead and say, “Put your shoes on, we’re going to the crafts store.”

“The crafts store? Is this another one of your little hobby ideas to keep me busy?” she says getting off the bed to walk to her closet.

“Yes, even though this is nothing like your ACL days, I just know how you get when you are stuck in your head for too long,’ you tell her.

“That’s very sweet of you babe. I appreciate you putting up with me these past couple of days,” she replies.

____________________

As you two walk around the crafts store you point out certain things that might pique her interest, but not quite caught her eye.

“You should do these,” you say, grabbing a container full of different colorful seed beads. “You can make cute personalized bracelets for your teammates and maybe even some to give back to fans since they’re always making some for you.”

A big smile grows on Leah’s face as she takes the beads from you to observe them. “This is a great idea baby. Let’s get colorful threads too so we can make friendship bracelets,” she says looking around the aisle for the threads.

Looking around a bit more you find individual color bead strands making you think of a TikTok you saw a couple of days ago. You grab a few different shades of blue and walk over to Leah putting them up against her eye.

“What are you doing?” Leah giggles giving you a confused look.

Smiling at her, you put another shade of blue next to her face and ask, “Do you remember that TikTok video I showed you the other day? Where couples would find beads that matched their partner’s eye color and then they would combine the two colors to make a bracelet?”

“Yes, I do remember that. Wait let me go find one that matches your eyes too,” She says walking over to the bead wall in search of a color that closely represents her favorite set of eyes.

“Yep, these will do. I can’t wait to wear these all the time,” she says looking at you.

After grabbing the rest of the stuff you need for the bracelets such as stretchy string and little initial beads, you make your way to check out and head home.

____________________

Leah immediately sets up all the stuff you two got on the dining room table while you go into the kitchen to get her some water and pain meds since her head is starting to hurt again.

“What do you want to do first?” you ask, sitting across from her.

“Let's make the eye color ones first,” she replies.

While making the bracelets you two sit in silence with music playing softly in the background just enjoying being in each other’s presence.

“This was such a great idea, love. Can you tie mine on my wrist?” she asks, and you do so.

When you are done tying her bracelet you tell her, “You know I used to make these and sell them at school. I wanted this pair of boots so bad, and my mom said that if I can come up with half the price of the boots she’d pay the rest. My classmates came up to me with special color requests and in two weeks I had more than half the price, and I got them the next day.”

“I could tell you’re a pro at this. You’ve always been a hard worker,” Leah says smiling down at her new bracelet.

____________________

A couple hours later you and Leah were still at it making bracelets. Well Leah was making bracelets, you were cooking dinner and would stop every now and then to tie them so they would not fall apart.

“FUCK!” you hear Leah shout from the dining room making you rush over to check on her.

“What happened?” you ask with concern in your tone.

Leah lifts up the clear string with no beads on it and says, “I just tried to tie it and the beads exploded everywhere. I don’t know how you do this, it’s so hard.”

She gets down on her knees and starts to pick up all the stray beads. “I mean they are everywhere, we’re going to be finding random beads for weeks.”

You stifle a laugh as you go to help her pick up the beads, “I’ve had years of practice baby, it’s okay.”

“I can pick them up babe, I don’t want you to burn dinner because of me,” she says.

“Alright, why don’t you try the threads and make friendship bracelets for the girls,” you suggest walking back to the kitchen.

“Yea I’ll need your help with that, I can’t figure that shit out to save my life. I can’t believe how many different patterns there are to make a bracelet,” she says, rolling her eyes, still picking up beads.

“It just depends on the design you want, but I’ll help you,” you call out.

____________________

After dinner you and Leah were back at it, this time making thread bracelets so it would not be as messy.

“I finished Beth's, that should be the last one. Man my hands hurt,” Leah says, cracking her knuckles.

You finish tying Beth’s bracelet and say, “Let’s clean up and head to bed. You can give these to the girls tomorrow.”

As you two walk to your bedroom you hear Leah let out a small yelp making you quickly turn around. “I just stepped on a damn bead,” Leah says, holding up a small red bead.

____________________

The next day before you two head to the game Leah grabs all of the bracelets she made and puts them in her bag.

Currently, you two are sitting in the stands with her mother and brother waiting for the game to start. “Do you think they’ll like their bracelets?” Leah asks you while her eyes are on the field.

“Of course baby, I think they’ll love them,” you tell her, kissing her cheek.

She had already given a few lucky fans some bracelets and their reactions warmed her heart. She liked being able to give them something that she made for once instead of the other way around.

After the final whistle blew she grabbed your hand pulling you towards the field with her where she started handing out the bracelets.

“Aww Leah for me? These are so cute,” Lia said, pulling Leah into a hug.

“Is this how you spend your recovery time? Also matching one your lady,” Beth teased, putting on her bracelet.

“Yeah, it was my girl’s idea. It’s our eye colors see,” Leah beamed as she turned around, watching you speak to Viv who also got a bracelet.

“Of course it was, this is very sweet. Thank you, Leah,” Alessia says.

Why Leah was still chatting with the girls, she felt your arms wrap around her waist making her lean back into you. “I told you they would love them,’ you said, kissing the side of her beanie-covered head.

“I know, it was a great idea on your part,” she says, turning around in your arms, “Thank you for taking care of me, I know I can be a lot sometimes.”

“You’re just fine baby, I love taking care of you,” you tell her tightening your arms around her.

As Leah leans in for a kiss she gets interrupted by someone making a gagging noise. “You two are so cute it makes me physically sick,” Katie yells, causing everyone around to laugh.

Leah rolls her eyes and gives you a kiss, sneakily showing Katie her middle finger.

____________________

note: idk fam.

[bookwormjust]

The best Auntie (established relationship, Cassian’s mate, Nyx obsessed with you) 

It was one of those nights—the Inner Circle gathered around the large, wooden dining table in the House of Wind, laughter and conversation filling the air as plates of food were passed around. You sat comfortably between Cassian and Feyre, the soft flicker of candlelight casting a warm glow over everyone’s faces. Nyx, the lively five-year-old son of Rhysand and Feyre, was buzzing with energy as usual, but tonight he seemed especially eager to be near you.

“Auntie!” Nyx's voice rang out as he clambered onto your lap, completely ignoring the chair that had been set for him. He wrapped his tiny arms around your neck, his mischievous violet eyes sparkling with joy. “Can you help me eat? Please?”

You smiled down at him, your heart warming as you reached for his spoon. “Of course, little star,” you said softly, ruffling his dark hair. He always wanted to be near you during these dinners, much to the amusement of his parents. Feyre shot you a playful smile, her eyes glowing with warmth, while Rhys chuckled under his breath, his hand resting affectionately on Feyre’s.

“He’s obsessed with you,” Feyre teased. “I swear, he’d move in with you if we let him.”

Cassian, sitting beside you, leaned in and placed his hand on your thigh, his touch warm and grounding. He grinned, clearly enjoying the sight of you and Nyx together. “He has good taste,” he said, his voice laced with pride. “You’re his favorite, after all.”

You blushed a little at Cassian’s words, feeling the warmth of his affection settle over you. Nyx wiggled happily in your lap, clearly loving the attention as you spooned some food into his mouth. Every bite was a game to him, giggling as you made silly faces to get him to eat his vegetables.

Rhys watched the interaction with a soft smile, leaning back in his chair. “We’re going to have to fight Cassian for your attention soon, you know,” he said, half-joking. “Nyx barely lets you breathe when you’re here.”

Cassian smirked, his thumb tracing idle circles on your leg. “He knows who the best auntie is,” he said with a wink, making you laugh.

Nyx, oblivious to the conversation, rested his head against your chest, settling into the comfort of your arms as you continued to help him eat. His little fingers wrapped around your free hand, clinging to you as if you were the most important person in the room.

You glanced over at Cassian, his hazel eyes filled with affection as he watched you with Nyx. He always had to be touching you in some way, whether it was a hand on your knee or a soft brush of his arm against yours. The bond between you was a constant presence, a comforting thread that kept you connected.

As the night went on, Nyx eventually grew sleepier, his body growing heavy in your arms. Feyre gave you a knowing look, silently thanking you for how much love and attention you gave her son. And with Cassian’s hand still resting on your thigh, the world felt perfect—warm, filled with laughter, love, and family.

I'm sorry, I know that Nyx don't have Violet eyes (and have the same as his mom, Feyre), but I like the idea of it. Imagining that he is totally a mini version of Rhys (a version who don't have to suffer, an innocent version of him). AND maybe it's my tendency of traumatic and painful event who make me think that Rhys will always see throught his own son his deceased little sister, same eyes, same energy...

Just my opinion.

KISS ❤️❤️❤️

[stardancerluv]

A Time to Love and to Fight

Chapter Nineteen

Summary: Changes swirl around Enjolras and his girl

Notes/Warnings: 18 & Older, please! PV Sex, lots angst, un-aliving /shooting someone mention, I re-wrote this 3 times! (If you want to know the other versions, just ask) I chose to veer a bit from the original story since this storyline/fanfic already has. I felt I still did right by what the character Enjolras would do. (No hate, please!) There are two collages, in the 1st one there is a fan-art version of Lachesis drawn by Amber Southerly. In the second, I used a couple in bed to stand in for that scene…that is a face claim! The dialogue between Enjolras & Govroche is taken from the mini-series!

Thank you, for reading! (It’s a long chapter) Be nice! Feedback is welcome! Want to be tagged, please let me know! ❤️ and of course…Enjoy!

Lachesis - The Greek fate who controlled the thread of life. She has become important to Enjolras & Y/N.

“Mon coeur, mon amour... mon ange.” - My heart, my love, my angel.

“Mon ange peut goûter le bonheur qu'est un baiser de toi?” - “My angel can taste the happiness that is a kiss from you?”

There are at 9 more chapters!

Your eyes were fierce as you turned, strode right over to him. “You shot a man.” The tone of your voice pierced him.

Taking a step back, he pushed the door closed behind him. He did not wish the others to grow curious. He had already faced enough questions, the night you showed up. He knew there would be more.

Rocking forward on his heals he walked up to you. You didn’t move.

“That man took a shot at Marius.”

When you didn’t say a word. He grabbed you chin. A wince washed over your face. He swallowed at the sight of it. He never wanted to cause you harm. With more of a gentle touch, and with no thought of his hand that was wrapped up, he brought your face up as he spoke.

“It was men like that, who dragged you into an alley.” He spat out.

Your lip trembled.

“I’ve seen men like that abuse and kill innocent men and women. He missed Marius the first time he aimed. I wasn’t about to give him a second chance.”

“You’re right, you’re right….” Your words were entangled in your breath. He could see your destress.

He could feel as you inhaled.

“I was just so scared.” It was then he felt as you wrapped your arms around him.

He would never tire of the feel of you. Wrapping his own arms around you, he sighed, holding you very close.

******

He was grateful. You had not run in terror at his brutal act. He was grateful that none of his comrades had not come to disturbed the two of you.

In that small room, against a bureau he leaned. You were cradled between his legs, your head resting on his chest. With his good hand, he gently ran a hand soothingly up and down your back. His wounded hand laid on his thigh.

Neither of you spoke. The silence laid like a blanket over the two of you.

“Mon ange, you give a moment?” He did not want to part from you. Right now all felt right. But he had made his mind up, he had to act on his decision.

“Only if you finally tell me what happened?” Your lovely hands were gentle as they lightly grazed the scarf that was wound tightly around his hand.

He pressed his lips together and nodded. “There was a scuffle during the funeral. At one point a solider tried to cut me down with his sword.”

“Oh, Enjolras my love.” You gently cupped his hand.

He nodded. “He caught the back of it. I am grateful, that I still have it. And I am certain, that only a scar will remain. My hand though in pain still moves like a hand should.”

His heart squeezed at the tenderness you then bestowed upon him. You pressed some gentle kisses here and there.

Quietly as he felt your soft kisses, he thanked Lachesis, for the gift that was you.

“Now, my ange I really must have my moment. Will you give it to me?”

A shadow of a smile fluttered on your face as you looked up at him. “Yes, of course.”

*****

Grabbing a small knife, he went to where he had seen the thread earlier. Relief filled him when he realized, he did not have to slice the pieces he found.

“As I twine this thread I wish for us to be together.” Enjolras wished silently in his heart. These feelings were new to him.

He had never been terribly sentimental. Half the time when he had heard or saw Marius being so lovesick, he had found it foolish. That all changed the rainy night you came stumbling into his life. After that mere walk in the rain something changed in him.

Walking back to you, he twined and tied and twisted the scarlet thread. He managed to make a delicate ring, easily he then made a small knot. The knot resembled a small blossom. He was pleased, his fingers remembered how to make such a small memento out of thread. He slipped the small ring into his pocket.

Opening the door, a smile played on this lips as he watched you fidget with your gloves. There were a few things he had come to observe in you, this one he found to be very endearing.

In a few strides, he was by your side. As you turned, smiling he knew what he was doing was right. Sinking down on his left knee, gently he cupped your hand with both of his.

“Enjolras?”

He smiled softly up at you. “Mon age, before you came stumbling into my life the matters of the heart I left for others.”

He swallowed, his heart once again thudded hard in his chest.

“I had always believed love was a foolish folly. I was and am no fool.”

Your smile was as strong as the sun on a summer’s day. Gently, he squeezed your hand.

“As we grew familiar, intimate I realized that you were the one my heart had been waiting for.”

“Enjolras, what ?”

He could feel as you trembled, your eyes twinkled. He caress the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Mon amour, years ago I pledged my body, my intellect for the betterment of France. As I am here before you, I wish to give you my love, my heart.”

“Oh Enjolras, I accept. Yes! Yes!”

He leapt up and pulling you close, he held you to him. Nothing felt so right as it did just then. With a sigh, he inhaled deeply of the sweet scent, that was uniquely yours. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I have a small token to seal this gift, love.”

You blinked. “You do?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Easily, he took your left hand. First, he pressed a kiss just above where the end of the glove sat. “Let us remove this. Yes?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He took a step so that he could place the ring he had twined more easily upon your finger. Once he had pulled the glove from you, he pressed another kiss this time to your knuckles. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he grabbed the ring.

“It is terribly humble.”

He whispered, then with the outmost care he slipped the scarlet ring onto your finger. Easily, placing it so the small flower sat on top.

“Though just as Lachesis drew our threads together, her thread allowed me to give you this symbol of my love.”

“Oh Enjolras, I love it.” And once again you were in his arms.

******

“Today we will remember those among that we lost. They were will always be remembered. In our hearts there will be men like Father Mabeuf, or ladies like Mademoiselle Eponine.” He cleared his throat. “But we will almost celebrate life and new beginnings.”

You smiled from where you stood. You were head to toe in a dark cloak.

“And we must remember, that last night we were able to push back the Royal army. We can and will do this again.”

Cheers rung through the warehouse.

*****

Quietly, he eyed his hands. They always trembled before a fencing match. Those days felt like they barely existed. They were like out of a dream. Now, they trembled.

Grantaire and Courfeyrac stood on either side of him while he waited for you. Hearing the muffled sounds from the warehouse, glancing in that direction a smile blossomed on his lips.

You were as lovely as a summer’s day. The dress you chose was lovely and delicate. Very much like you. Though, he was learning with how you handled the guards and then last night you were far stronger then he would have ever guessed. You were certainly the person, he was relieved that he would get to live the rest of his days with.

As you drew closer, for a moment he shut his eyes and inhaled. In his heart, he gave a moment to Lachesis. He gave her his sincere gratitude to experience this type of love. Exhaling, he opened his eyes and his heart leapt. You were beside him.

“Hello angel.” He whispered.

He offered you his hand. You took it and together you both faced, the gentlemen who would be marrying two of you.

********

Inwardly, you trembled and tried desperately to not cry as your mana slipped the buttons on the back of your dress. With great excitement, you spoke of peace that you could only wish would fall over the city. Your passionate words had been enough you convince your mama and Greta to allow you to enjoy a day at the park.

Once she slipped the final hook through the eyelet, impulsively you turned and hugged your mama.

“Oh mama.” You cried. Her frame was fragile. It had always been warm and soft while your father was alive. She was a wisp of the woman she had once been.

She gave you a squeeze. “My dear daughter, I am better. You no longer have to fret over me.” You nodded.

If life, if times were different Enjolras would have courted you. She would have found him dashing and intelligent like father. Father and him would have shared glasses of wine while debating life and the books that filled his library.

Instead, you were getting married in a warehouse Enjolras and his comrades had taken over. There would be no grand ceremony or celebration. You would have loved for your mama to know you were now a woman.

You pulled back and nodded, “I know mama. That fills me with immense joy.” You hoped she did not see the tears the filled your eyes. The lump that formed in your throat made it hard to breath. “It is just, I missed these simple acts of you helping me to choose a dress.” You smiled.

Enjolras and the men had already pushed off the army, they could do it again. Next time, you would bring him home. Mama, had a right to meet the man who made you realize all those books father had read to you and you had read; truly existed.

You reached behind her and grabbed your book. You held it up.” “I must not forget this.”

*******

Before leaving the house, you grabbed your cloak, its edges danced around your ankles. Simply walking in this dress would cause too much of a stir.

The walk to the warehouse today did not take as long as it had in the past. It gave your heart great comfort.

As you walked in, Enjolras stood apart from everyone. He was on one of the catwalks high above, it creaked under his weight.

Gavoche, came over to you. He smiled at you with a flair that uniquely was his, held out to you a small bouquet of little blue and white flowers.

“Gavoche!” You held a suprised hand to your mouth. It was lovely.

“Monsieur Enjolras gave me a mission this morning to find flowers that matched the blue scarf you wore the night we all met you.”

“You remembered?”

He nodded. “I may have wanted you tied up if you were a spy but you were the loveliest lady, I had the pleasure of escorting home.”

You smiled and took the bouquet. “You escort a lot of ladies home?”

He chuckled. “No, you are the only one and you are the loviest, by far.”

“Well, thank you so much.”

“You are so welcome, Lady Y/N.” He gave a small bow.

You were about to say how you were not a real lady when a hush came over the room.

It was then Enjolras began to speak. Giving him his your complete attention you smiled up at him. His words stirred a warmth in you, they dried your tears and melted the lump in your throat.

Yes, now they would marry but with their assured victory, you knew you’d be able bring him home to mama. As your eyes met, your heart filled even more with happiness over what the future would hold for the two of you. Lachesis, had been truly kind as she twined the threads of yours and Enjolras’s lives. Bringing a gloved hand over your heart, you thanked her.

*******

You were one of the angels he had seen in works of fine art. Only you were his angel in life. Relief filled him, that with the allowance his mother still sent along to him and with what he out aside, while still managing to hold onto alot for when it would be needed, he had found a small simple silver ring.

He smiled as Courfeyrac opened the small pouch and handed him that silver ring.

Your eyes grew as they met his.

He nodded. “I pledge my heart and love to you, till my last breath.” Then gently as if it had been made for you it slipped into its rightful place on your finger.

“Oh Enjolras,” His heart trembled with his love for you as he heard you speak. “My love. I pledge my heart and love for all of time.”

With hands joined, he turned with you once more to the man performing the ceremony.

“I offer this final blessing. May the air that gives them life and the love that has blossomed in their hearts now beat as one; till old age comes and envelops them in one final embrace.”

Cheers bounced off the walls of the small room. Turning, Enjolras gave his dearest comrades, his dearest friends Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Gavoche; a small smile and a nod. To know they were there at his side, he appreciated. Not a moment too late, Despiat popped his head into add to the sentimental wishes for the two of them.

“Mon coeur, mon amour... mon ange.” He whispered, cupping your cheek he closed the last of the space between the two of you. And inhaling deeply, his lips met yours in the first kiss as man and wife.

*******

Holding the skirt of your dress and your other arm around Enjolras. Together you both twirled, smiled and chuckled to the instruments and uproariously singing that filled the room. Spirits were high. Everyone was happy. Toasts were made, tankards clanked and candlelight flickered and twinkled.

*******

Earlier, while everyone feasted on what Despiat had made for the two of you and the others that evening from the kitchen of his pub. Laying on some crates, boards that had been carried and food and drink laid on them. Seeing a scout, slipped in from the shadows that lingered in alleys or corners between buildings he parted from you only this once to speak with him. You had tried to rise from one of the few chairs that had not been used to reinforce the barricade but had assured to remain and continue to enjoy the food and drink.

“Are you absolutely sure of this?”

The man dabbed his face with his handkerchief. He nodded swallowing. “They are hoping that by striking late tomorrow night, you will have grown complacent with your minor victory. Hopefully drunk on or even they dare hope in a deep slumber.”

Enjolras, paced. “They were will be certainly be surprised.” He smirked. He went over to the man, tell Despiat you may have whatever you wish. Please eat well. We will all need our strength.”

Now, he knew they would surely win once again. He could taste their victory. He strode out and on he again joined in the festivities of the evening. Sitting beside you, he smiled. All was as it should be in his life.

You reached out and touched his arm. He laid a hand over yours. “Alright is right with the moon and stars, my love.” He assured you.

******

Whispering to Courfeyrac and Grantaire, he had them make sure the windows and doors were fastened for he did not wish anything to escape. Once they were done, he stood and touch wobbly with his elation over the victory that was within his grasp, he stood on a chair.

He glanced down at you. He took a breath.

“Gentlemen, ladies word has come. By this time tomorrow, perhaps even later the army has planned their attack.”

Gasps filled the air.

“Do not let worry plague you. We know their plans. We can prepare and be ready. So drink, be merry but rest and we shall get ready to finish them!”

Cheers and clanking of tankards filled the room.

******

You placed your flowers on the table. Your fingers trembled so much that it took longer then usual to unfasten your cloak but you did and hung it on one of the hooks on the wall. Nervousness, coursed through you. “Is it wrong that I’m nervous?”

Enjolras paused before lighting one of the candles. He shook his head. “No, angel it’s not.” He lit the candle and lit the remaining few before he came over to you.

He came over to you and easily he pulled you close. “Forgive me, for in all the revelry I did not take a moment to tell you how beautiful you were today.”

You flushed, you glanced between the two of you before meeting his warm eyes. “Your eyes told me.”

A soft pleased sound came from him. “I am glad.”

You sighed closing your eyes as be cupped your cheek. “Mon ange peut goûter le bonheur qu'est un baiser de toi?”

Your eyes fluttered opened. “Yes, my love. My sweet husband.” You flushed.

“Oh I had never wanted to hear those words and yet, from you they are more lovely then the song of a bird.”

Your eyes met then and just as you took a breath, you felt the softness of his lips. The scruff of his goatee was comforting. Your arms wrapped around him, his followed. He was so solid, warm and safe.

*******

Gently, he lowered himself half on half off of you. “My dear wife.” You flushed with the kisses and caresses. But he was always be the honorable man you loved. He gently traced the line of your cheek. “I am aware that it is know it is tradition, for us to become one tonight. It allows our hearts to beat together to fulfill our bond of marriage and love. But with the excitement of the day, if you wish to wait and become one another night I can stop now. I am will never become a brut.”

You turned and his kissed his open palm. “No my love, I long to feel you.”

*******

Easing himself up from the bed, he paused as he stood beside. “You are so lovely.” He whispered.

In the flickering candlelight he could see a flush dust your cheeks. “Angel, you will have to grow accustomed to my compliant or I fear you will always be blushing.” He smiled.

“Maybe one day, right now I like the idea of being your blushing bride always.”

“Shall I Enjolras? Shall I shed chemise?”

He nodded. “Please. And I shall shed these.” Then carefully, since his hand still ached terribly he removed his breeches.

“You steal my breath, Enjolras.” Your soft voice reached his ears and his heart sped up.

“It is only fair since looking at you do the same to me.”

Bracing himself on the bed, he settled between your legs. “You have enraptured my heart.” Something, he never thought would happen or allow to happen. But you were special.

A soft sound came from him as he wrapped his hand around himself. He was incredibly aroused. The sight of you as the candlelight poured over your curves was almost too much for him.

Gently, he slipped his among your silken folds. They reminded him of roses that grew at his university. On the early mornings the petals would be kissed with dew. A soft moan that came you made his stomach tighten.

“You moans will undo me, angel.”

Biting inside of his cheek, he gently slid into you. Then his own moan filled his room.

Moving just so, he held you close. With his heart thudding hard, his lips grazed yours. “Pardon me angel, but I must tell you. I will always be grateful you came stumbling in that rainy night.”

You reached up and cupped his cheek. “It is the day, I truly started to live.”

A twist of pleasurable pain filled him; for there was part of him that felt the same. He kissed your palm, before he was able to find his rhythm and began sliding in and out of your warmth.

You both moved. No words were needed, just the sounds of pleasure from the two of twirled and mingled between the two of you. Your hearts echoed each other. Everything was exquisite.

Both of you burned as the passion grew. His curls became unruly as sweat blossomed on his scalp. Your strands, clung to your face they were as wild as a stallion’s mane. He drew closer and your lips met and the kisses matched the passion already between the two of you.

******

You took his hand and placed it over your heart, it thudded hard in your chest. “I will never allow my love for you to wane.”

“It never will, for till my dying day I will love you.”

He moved his hand up in gentle caress before he was able to cup your cheek. It felt as if the two of you sealed your words with a kiss.

*******

Fright gripped you and you woke. You could not understand the fear, no night terror had struck you but it had taken a hold of your heart.

You sat there in the darkness. A tear escaped one of your eyes and slid down you cheek. You pressed against your heart hoping to snuff out the fear, the pain.

“Angel?” Enjolras’s voice was thick from slumber. “What plagues you?”

“I don’t know.” You wept.

“Come let me hold you till the dawn.”

His arms were warm and strong as he held you. It was only then did you feel your anguish, begin to diminish.

******

“As the sun rises, we prepare. Will dispatch each royal solider. They taste our bravery and feel fear. They will quake in their shiny boots.” One of the platforms on the barricade, Enjolras spoke. His voice was rich with dedication.

Cheers erupted from those that gathered.

“Now let us prepare for what will be coming at sundown. We will not stop till the last gaps are filled and the barricades are secure. All of our bullets will be so made and rationed between all of us. And arm yourself with a blade. We will fight to the last of them.”

Once again the cheers erupted. Encouraging slaps on the back were given and fists shot skyward.

“Now go and prepare!”

You felt at a loss of what to do. You helped where you could. You brought cloths where the guns and pistols were being cleaned. With the aid of one of the other ladies, you secured pieces of furniture and whatever else you could get your hands on. All of if made the barricades stronger. A quiet seriousness fell over everyone. There were only murmurs of greetings. Eyes met silently.

Gavroche’s footfalls and the shortness of this breath, sounded louder. Seeing him you realized it was the first you had seen him since waking; that was a few hours now. You noticed others looked over or even glanced in his direction, but not really spoke aloud.

You watched as him and Enjolras disappeared into one of the smaller rooms. A knot formed in your stomach.

You felt as if a shadow that you could not run away from fell over you.

*******

Enjolras, patted Gavoche reassuringly on the back as he walked along side him into the small room. The young man was pale. And out of breath. This worried him.

“Son, what did you see?” He turned and faced him.

He chewed his bottom lip before he spoke. “It’s all over, comrade.” He swallowed. “Hundreds of soldiers are getting ready to attack.” When his eyes finally met his, they were watery. “And most of the barricades have been destroyed.”

He knew this day would come. He had been preparing for it. He would fight to the death. But you, you he worried about.

“Are you alright?” He was warmed once again by his bravery. He was a good kid.

“Me?” An easy smiled played on his face, though his eyes spoken of readying himself, Enjolras assumed. “Never better.”

“Go grab a scrap of the bread and cheese. Don’t breath a word of this. Let me address everyone.”

He nodded. “Of course.” He ran out.

Enjolras felt as if the air was stolen from him. Your terror had been prophetic. He would not let you die here. He would not make you watch if he were to die either.

“Enjolras?” Your voice floated through the air like a bird’s song. It ripped at him.

He would not let his anguish consume him.

@aftertheglitterfades @corrodedcoffn @dealswiththedevilsblog @randomstory56 @pl1nfa1 @phantomxoxo @ladybug0095 @the-iridescent-phoenix @maryan028 @netusha @kindablackenedsuperhero @amethyst-serenade @crazyworldofsiani @moondev1l @eddiethebloodiedhand @lluviamg06 @samunson83 @craftyhufflepuff @julieteagk @little-wormwood @gretavankleep37

[mejomonster]

Now that I have given Sherlock Holmes Chapter One more time to unfold. I really love the writing. Like just cannot get over it tbh. I want to wrap myself in it. I'm having euphoria after the pains of (what moffat did once upon a time) and my villaineve girlies (and the ending after so much solid stuff beforehand).

It feels 1 like i real Sherlock Holmes story (as in written well, flawed growing characters, respectful to source material AND respectful to us the audience) while also feeling fresh (its a prequel so a lot of freedom to show a new young sherlock with flaws turning into someone more recognizable as he heals and grows, cases i dont know the answer of, and a pretty damn grounded childhood trauma emotional pains fucking relatable heart thread through a wilder more dramatic murder cases arc). The only game i can think ti compare it to is the Ryu Ga Gotoku games, specifically Judgement if you took just the detective gameplay. Like? While I think Judgements gameplay is a bit funner, I think Sherlock Holmes Chapter One has more in depth side cases so if you're a mystery lover it balances out (now Judgement's main case appears more in depth a bit, but its a huge fucking game so its to be expected). What I think they both do Right, is make u feel like ur the detective

In SHCO case the moral dillema of how well or sucky u solve a case and the consequences and the fact u CAN be wrong and arrest an innocent party make the stakes feel very high, the fact most suspects are guilty of Some cruel stuff but not always the murder means ur also debating morally what u think is gonna be the best thing to do out of multiple imperfect options even if u feel sure you know who the killer is... i am truly IMPRESSED with how well SHCO handles morally grey suspects and the choices u make about the outcomes, i havent seen it in many games and its made me question myself in Even Less games. The opening tutorial case is a basic example of whats to come: if u dont collect all evidence, u may not be totally sure who killed the victim, and can justify accusing either suspect. Then once u accuse them, u have to justify to Yourself if u are going to advocate they be punished severely or given some leniency. The rest of the cases play with this but go deeper.

Also like Judgement (and all yakuza games), it just does a very good job of building a realistic world (as much as budget allows anyway). Judgement is in Tokyo, so theres OLD people! Kids! Americans! Koreans! Countryside people! Rich, poor, middle class etc. Criminals, police, civilians, politicians, celebrities! illegal immigrants. There's east asian people, white people, black people, south asian people, there's people with mixed heritage, there's people that speak or don't speak various languages. Basically Judgement feels more like how you'd actually expect interacting in a city to feel, compared to a significant chunk of games (especially if u go older) where there is just no thought put into immigration or class or the myriad of real complexities of life for the variety of people that exist in the real world. There's some game simplifications like repeated npc lines, and then side quests and main stories flesh out various characters more (and SHCO uses case notes and info to flesh out in the way RGG game side story cutscenes and mini game plots do). Those are budget and time constraints. But like. SHCO has this grounded sort of game feel where you run across a city that feels like a realistic city of various people, and the social issues affecting people in it, where the characters in cases are a more fleshed out reflection of the people in the city, and where the social situations impacting everyone play out in more detailed ways as part of the case stories. Like fuck, I'm in the case with the painting now and. Its both got a lot to say about 1880s british empire and effects on a myriad of fucking people (and systematic abuses and damaging power structures), and as with much of history its got a lot to say about now. From the way power and social position influences ability to abuse and lack of remorse, immigration, international trade, colonization, racism, patriarchy, the extreme differences in personal background in how everyone involved acts and reacts and considers whats going on. Or the elephant case, where sherlock both in some ways reflects the society he exists in (sexism wise) and is also growing from that (self aware that the daughter is a person with as much decision power or more than him, unlike her own father's view of her, respecting Paul's situation while navigating a society where they both know the norm in comparison, recognizing that he's driven by his own desire to understand his Mom as a person when for so long he's had her on a pedestal and convinced himself of lies to himself about meek/strong Mothers and how it clouded his actual understanding of Violet as a person possibly struggling mentally in many similar ways to how he is). Like the elephant case is so simple in a lot of ways... but how many storiea have i seen where women just wouldnt have been written as equal, or as fleshed out characters, where Violet wouldnt be considered this in depth? Not just set in this time period but any time period tbh (it wasnt until the last maybe 10 years that movies and shows, sometimes, got a lot better with this to the point i could find it easier to avoid media that wrote women like lamps). I remember reading Fingersmith by Sarah Waters and how THRILLED i was to see realistic women in that time setting for a story (phenomenal novel btw). So like, starting SHCO i didnt know how fair the story would be to all inhabitants in it, and so far its wonderfully gone for a realistic grounded approach with characters that feel thoughtful in a world that is fleshed out and feels solid.

[findinginga]

I Am Known For My Patience…

...but I just wanted to scream...

I have worked for decades as a health care provider. Much of that work has been in acute care situations. As a result, one develops ways to cope with the tragedies, suffering and inhumanity which may present over the course of any given emergency department shift. True, there is also satisfaction to be realized, derived from an intervention which saves a life or improves the pain and suffering a patient may be enduring. One may face a steady stream to a torrent of problems and mini-mysteries which need to be solved. Our training as clinicians reinforces the need to approach each patient - each set of problems in such a manner as to avoid preconception. Following a single thread as a possible cause or solution may cost a limb or a life. As a part of the oath that is sworn when accepting the role of clinician we affirm: "I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug". In addition, "I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm."

Certainly my visit to St. Petersburg was not intended to be a clinical adventure. I made the trip to share some time with a person to whom I was attracted and for whom my feelings had grown stronger. It was also undeniable that with the growing collection of experiences with Inga, I began to appreciate that she was struggling with issues that she could not identify nor did she even appreciate. I embarked on both the physical and emotional journey to Russia attempting to manage my anger and hurt to stay true to the concept that I had a special obligation. My hope was to return home with the clarity and insights I required to solve the many open mysteries and contradictions presented by Inga.

...going to the extreme on Monday and Tuesday...

Days four and five of my visit undermined my typical calm, collected demeanor. As it was evident to me that Inga's focus was entertaining Eva, I set about to locate an activity that the three of us might enjoy. While having breakfast and coffee at the hotel early Monday, I searched for family-oriented events. There were few options but one which stood out was a science-oriented performance targeted to children. The performance was scheduled for 1:00 pm and I eagerly communicated the news to Inga who seemed pleased at this option. I provided her the information and asked Inga to inform me when she was departing the home of Nikita. The plan was to meet at the entrance of the venue.

It was about 15 minutes past Noon that Monday and I still had not received a message regarding their departure. I consulted Google maps for directions from the hotel to the theater/performance hall. It was too far to walk and the route was quite circuitous. I thought it best to hire a car for the trip and as it was growing late, I went to the hotel lobby to seek the assistance of the doorman in securing a car. Many minutes passed before the arrival of my driver. As I was enroute, I received a text from Inga informing me that they already arrived at the venue. She provided no message to inform me of their departure. I was still about 10 minutes away when Inga texted that she had purchased tickets and they were going inside. The driver deposited me on the street opposite the theater. I was desperately looking for the building while scanning the street for possibilities. Google maps was leading me in circles. I texted Inga for assistance and, after several minutes, she and Eva emerged from a building. Inga was visibly annoyed over me interrupting them and forcing them to leave. I offered that we go inside to see the rest of the performance but Inga angrily refused accusing me of deliberately disappointing Eva.

Inga spent the following hour brooding as we walked aimlessly through the surrounding neighborhoods while Eva expressed her boredom. After a stop at Kentucky Fried Chicken for Eva, Inga decided that we visit a shopping mall with a play center for children. This became our destination for the few hours remaining in my visit with them on Monday - The Angry Birds Activity Park in the PRISMA mall. (I should note that the few photos I have to post with this blog entry were taken before Inga forbade me from taking any photos of her.)

As it was nearing 6:00 pm, Inga reminded me of her obligation to provide dinner so; after a short walk away from the mall, Inga phoned for a car. I had no clear idea of my location and was forced to call for my own transportation feeling every bit the "ugly American" tourist. We parted with me receiving a kiss on the cheek.

...entertaining Eva is what matters...

Tuesday proved to be no better of a day. We agreed to meet at the base of the Alexander Column. Once again, Inga and Eva arrived at about 1:00 pm, when the plan had been Noon. I arrived on time after a walk from the hotel and was forced to wait in the cold for their arrival. There had been talk of a tour of the Winter Palace but by the time of Inga's arrival, there were no remaining tickets. We stood in the Palace Square discussing options when costumed actors/models appeared to sell their services for digital photos, to which I agreed.

A short walk from the square along Ulitsa Bol'shaya Morskaya brought us to Smile Park, an indoor amusement center. Eva was quite happy with the interactive exhibits and the ability to run about with other children. I have to admit, I was a little jealous as the operators created a nice collection of kid-friendly attractions.

The inevitable clash...

After a few hours we were getting ready to depart when a face painting booth caught the interest of Eva. During the time the artist was attending to Eva, Inga and I stood together watching. I felt it was an appropriate time to ask Inga if there would be an opportunity for the two of us to have a conversation about what was next for our relationship, if there was even a relationship to discuss. Immediately Inga developed defensive body language by crossing her arms and turning her body away from me. She verbally responded by telling me that it was not the right time. My reply to her was that it did not appear that it would ever be the right time. In that moment I had an overwhelming desire to get my coat, walk back to the hotel and simply leave. I was angry and hurt and the futility of my efforts crystallized in that moment. I resisted that impulse but found it necessary to walk away for a few moments to collect my thoughts.

We departed Smile City (okay, I was not smiling and would not be) and walked along Nevsky Avenue browsing the shops. We arrived at Admiraltevskiy Prospekt where I once again asked Inga if we would ever have a serious conversation and talk about the two of us. While I knew that the possibility of a romantic relationship with Inga had long passed, I wanted her to verbalize her intentions and explain her actions. Her temper flared and she attempted to put me on the defensive by stating that she could not be seriously interested in a man who would not take care of a woman. When I pressed her on this point, she stated that it was difficult for her to get Eva ready every day, to travel from the home of Nikita to the city center and to pay for transportation. According to Inga, a Russian man would take care of her. She went on to state that the reason she had not kissed me (romantically) was because of this.

...no good deed, even an attempted good deed...

There was no point in arguing this issue with Inga by reminding her that I had originally planned for Eva and she to have their own hotel room to avoid the difficulties to which Inga was referring. Being a father who went through his own period of child rearing and all the challenges associated with travel, I wanted to relieve Inga of those worries. But she rejected my offer and made her own plans, for her own reasons. Now, with the snow falling on the crowded boulevard, I simply had nothing else to say. Inga was again deflecting and further discussion would not result in her revealing anything more.

We agreed to stop for something to eat and Inga was desiring coffee. We located Petrov-Vodkin, a very nice restaurant located a short distance from our spontaneous confrontation. We dined, mostly in silence with the exception of a series of questions from Eva designed to gain attention of Inga. A family seated near us included two younger children and Eva became quite upset that her newly decorated face was not attracting their attention. At least Inga found the coffee to her liking, if one were looking for a silver lining. I paid the check and we emerged once again on Admiraltevskiy to walk back along Nevsky Avenue. Upon reaching the bridge spanning the Moyka River, we stopped and Inga called for a car to take her to Nikita's home. While we waited, Inga purchased two cups or mulled wine, one for each of us. Inga placed a delivery order from a restaurant near the home of her brother as it was growing too late for her to deal with dinner. She suggested that we visit the Hermitage Museum in the morning, to which I agreed.

As before, on the arrival of her transportation, she delivered a kiss on my cheek and disappeared inside. I was once again left to make my way back to the hotel alone. The walk allowed me time to think. There seemed to be no reason to meet her on Wednesday. I could visit the museum on my own and it would likely be more satisfying.

Upon my arrival at the hotel, I texted her that she need not bother to make the trip.

[yibennianyaji]

Steven Universe: Friend Ship

In case you weren’t sure Peridot was a Zim analogue before.

The Recap: The Gems finally track down Peridot, but Pearl’s desperate desire to prove herself and earn back Garnet’s trust leads to them getting trapped in an old Gem spaceship.

We end this Steven Bomb not with a whimper but with a very contented exhale. This finale had a touch of everything: solid emotional resolution, comedy, creative fight choreography, and almost enough Shelby Rabara to set my heart overflowing with glee. It’s clear the Crewniverse have the swing of the Steven Bomb thing down at this point, as this run of episodes more or less coalesces together into a neatly tied mini-arc. The major conflict grows and is addressed at a realistic rate, and the threads that are left over feel true to life in the way that we can now just call expected.

One might be forgiven for calling the actual Box of Conveniently Slow Murder where Pearl and Garnet are finally forced to talk a little too on the nose, but it would seem the writers knew this too: the whole rest of the episode takes pains to emotionally justify that forced confrontation as the only possible solution, with Amethyst trying and failing to get the feuding Gems to talk between missions and pointing out that capturing Peridot would do exactly nothing to make things better. Likewise, the fact that the entire week thusfar has dealt with each party reacting to Pearl’s betrayal of trust keeps “Friend Ship” from feeling like a quick fix meant to rush past the dull or inconvenient aspects of this conflict.

In other words, it is definitely a formulaic choice of conflict resolution. But it’s cleverly executed formula, addressing the downfalls of the device in question while playing up the strengths that made is popular in the first place: Amethyst’s brief decision to leave them in there to talk it out is just shy of becoming a stand-in for the audience while also making absolute sense for the character; the visual claustrophobia of the shrunken box heightens the intensity of the conversation at hand, allowing the camera’s tight headshots to speak not just for the characters’ emotions but also the sense of time running out on a literal and figurative level.

While the revelation about the “Pearls as worker class Gem” theory (as well as a few interesting implications about the connection between Pearl and Peridot, since they’re the only ones who seem to be able to “plug in” to Gem tech) apparently being true added an extra raw element to Pearl’s apology, even it took a back seat to the critical conversation about agency and illness. Garnet’s dialogue is dense with some very heady concepts, all of them no more solved in a day than the trust Pearl is working to win back.

Because discussion of mental illness is so rarely had in media, there’s almost no precursor for what happens here: the acknowledgement that Pearl does have worth, that Garnet too has doubts and inner struggles (and the implication therein that one’s own burdens do not exist in a vacuum), and that part of creating a mutually supportive and loving environment is working one’s hardest not to let your own difficulties hurt others. It is okay to have problems, to need help from others, in other words – but it’s equally important to remember to recognize your own struggles and take control of addressing them (put in an example, I can check a door lock once or a hundred times before I leave the house; but if I’m meeting a friend for a concert, it is then my responsibility to plan in my own extra time for rituals before they arrive, not expect them to be okay with being late).

A community of support takes recognition on all sides, after all – Pearl trying to “win Garnet’s trust” by catching Peridot is a well-meaning but selfish approach to solving the problem, since it focuses on what Pearl thinks should make Garnet happy without recognizing the source of Garnet’s anger. Her small, serious statement that they should only fuse if Garnet is willing (even when their lives are on the line) shows true understanding on Pearl’s part of what she did and how she needs to change moving forward. And while it doesn’t (it shouldn’t!) mean that all is immediately forgotten, the recognition of bad behavior and showing signs of fixing it is what good conflict resolution is all about. Which, let’s face it, is as good a lesson for us adults as it is for the kids in the audience.

With Pearl’s current arc resolved, for the moment at least, we can take a brief turn over to discussing the other resident point haired Gem. There are few characters on the show at present who I find so thoroughly delightful as Peridot. She lets a few alarming tidbits slip this episode, foremost the fact that the Earth has an “expiration date” – probably meaning some non-Gem invading force (since otherwise Peridot wouldn’t need to call for help); the creation of her hand laser also seems to be a new adaptation, since it knocks her off her feet and leaves her looking downright shocked that it worked at all (watching her continual surprise at finding new uses for her surveying skills, I find myself wondering at what the Crystal Gems were like in the first few months outside of Homeworld’s influence). And, oh yeah, she cut off her own foot. That’s not coming back unless she can safely find a place to “poof” herself, and she can no longer use the warp pads without the Crystal Gems immediately zeroing in on her. Peridot’s well and truly cornered, and her days of freedom are clearly limited. It’s almost kind of…sad.

Because while Peridot is unquestionably a villain of sorts, well in need of an ass kicking and a solid heap of atonement, it’s pretty hard to hate her as a real threat. The framing of her appearances almost always has a comical edge to it (even “Keeping it Together,” which separates neatly into halves featuring first Peridot and then the very old experiments she was checking up on), and Peridot is always getting away by the skin of her teeth while voicing the most 90s of insults. Even today, when she set up a hall of death traps, the threat of them is almost entirely secondary to the conflict it’s forcing forward. Her petty, childish frustration and bewildered panic; the energetic creativity of her various contortions – it’s almost joyful in a way that confrontations with Malachite, Jasper, or even Lapis’ first appearance simply weren’t.

Nothing represents that more clearly than Steven, who’s clearly having the time of his life bantering with Peridot while also happily wishing her good morning. And in a world as Miyazaki-like in its approach to its antagonists as Steven Universe is, I’ve made it my firm position that I’ll only give up on the possibility of a character’s redemption when Steven does. It seems almost certain that Peridot’s next appearance will mark the end of her freedom, so I can only hope that she’s kept around as an information source rather than being stuck in a bubble. Rabara is too much fun to think about losing for whole seasons, and I yearn for the possibility of a future Peridot and Steven bonding episode. Their rapport is simply too good to pass up (I, for one, cannot believe the Crewniverse waited this long to bring in the eyelid pull, and seeing Peridot seem to pick it up from Steven was icing on the cake).

For that matter, it’s clear something nastier will be threatening Earth at some point. And if Peridot doesn’t change her tune, she’s exactly the kind of minor annoyance-level villain who would be killed off to establish the severity of the incoming threat. And that would be a dreadful loss – she’s a sour little brat, but an endearing one.

And that’s Steven Bomb 3.0! What happens from here is a little bit unclear.

Well, whatever happens, you can trust I’ll be there to geek out about it with y’all. If you find yourself missing me before then, you can always come check out the Rick & Morty recaps I’ll be doing around here, or the recaps of Disney classic Gargoyles that I’ll be starting next week. Or hey, maybe we’ll meet again for the next Gem adventure. You take care of yourselves out there, readers. See you next time!

[kwiiwi1]

more thoughts about bolo, the lil shithead from Auckland:

they'd be so awkward and silly that it's funny, like sometimes their lil jokes will be funny but other times it'll be like "that makes no sense" and then having to explain would make curl up and die

webbing would be like kahoa hihi that's been modified to be stretchy n elastic as hell. bolo still is gonna make it the old-fashioned way, though, because its part of who they are and who they represent, and its just.. really fucking important. makes a lot of mini snail shells and then spends hours threading them on. it's worth it, though, because it's beautiful as hell.

gauntlets turn red when bolo powers em up, similar to how a coconut crab turns red when they're cooked (horrible imagery guys, mb). I imagine them to be super lightweight, like theres a lil power core somewhere in em, but if the power runs out, that shit becomes heavy as hell. the gauntlets were also modelled after coconut crab pincers, cause they're v solid and big and really powerful.

the patterns on their suit are heavily inspired by niuean hiapo prints (some mean strength, some mean nature, but I'll have to recheck lolz), and the lau ti titi (pronounced si-si) is just something I slapped on because they're a girl, and earrings probably wouldn't work if their ears aren't out (plus my ears aren't pierced, they're for like a coming of age ceremony and my mum wants me and my bro to do ours together. he cuts his hair, I get my ears pierced, it's a win-win situation).

anyways they keep the titi in top condition because it's a pain to cut the lau ti and weave it into a titi. please don't rip it off em. begging for both of our sanities.

the entire fit was based off what I wore for a performance / takalo / tame, everything except the jacket. It's just something I thought about because I thought it'd look cool as shit. plus, it'd be super warm and comfy for NZ winter. NZ winter sucks balls.

sneakers are just ones I wear daily, but they're a lot more scuffed and disgusting.

hood of the jacket hides their long fucking hair. hammerspace shit. bolo had to cut it short after their canon event, but it grows back quickly while they're doing spiderperson shit. long and thick and so annoying to maintain, but they like that way. makes people confuse them for a dude. very nice and silly and funny for them to do.

the name coconut spider is still TBD. doesn't sound chewy enough fr.

probably carries around bits of taro and takihi to eat because it reminds them of their grandma n mum. their grandma helped with the suit. thought it was for some silly thing at school lolz.

lot more talkative and silly when they're coconut spider. lil bit awkward and dumb but they feel better about that because they're practically hidden. that means they can do anything, like calling their villain of the week a sheepshagger or fulu. mhm.

talks a lot about New Zealand and Niue culture. very silly and dumb about where they live, where they comes from, their culture, history, everything. loves that shit.

got bit at the dairy. a spider that had been genetically modified with coconut crab DNA escaped Alchemax, had a tiki tour to the dairy, and somehow got into a fridge where bolo was grabbing some milk. bit them, bolo dropped the milk, accidentally stepped on the spider when they bent down to pick up the milk bottle, and uh yeah.

dk what I want to do for their canon event, but yea, congrats if you read through all of my silly spidersona lore

683 to the world fr 🇳🇺🇳🇺🇳🇺🇳🇺🇳🇺

m3 being silly under the cut + silly art lolz

SPIDERSONA SPIDERSONA SPIDERSONA SPIDERSONA RNSJENNANANSSN AAAAAAA AAAAAAAAA

I'll fix them up better tommorkw but THEMMMM WAAAAAAAA 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I WIN AT LIFE AND AT ART GUYS IM WINNING IM FUCKING WITH IT IM SO CRAZYYY RHAHEGHAHEHE 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹 IM SO FUCKING SWXY AND COOL ADN BANGER AND JSSJJSJSJSM

[bloodsweatandpotato]

Day 30

Note to self: Don’t get kidnapped

Fandom: Original work

Characters: Spy whumpee, caretaker

Tw: blood, mentions of torture, mentions of guns/gunshots

Summary: Sequel (and conclusion) to day 10 (and the mini series of spy whump captivity and torture). Whumpee finally gets rescued from Whumper. The nightmare is over.

Whumpee woke to gunshots.

They jerked weakly against their restraints in surprise, before going still again. They had been sitting on that floor for days… how long exactly escape them with no way to tell time.

Whumper would occasionally give them water, once even fed them, practically forcing Whumpee’s mouth open and shoving the dry crackers in.

They hadn’t been uncuffed yet. They were sore, and weak, and wet (when they had soiled themself earlier that day, Whumper had hosed them off with cold water, complaining of the smell).

And they were currently trying to keep in check the small bubble of hope growing in their chest.

The gunshots stopped.

Whumpee barely dared to breathe.

The door to the basement opened, and light streamed in.

“God, Whumpee-“ A voice murmured quietly, then raised again to holler. “I found them! They’re alive!”

Whumpee let the tension flood out of their frame as they recognized Caretaker’s voice. Their stitches pulled as they slumped back against the wall, arms twisting unnaturally where they were bound.

Caretaker crossed the room, scanning the corners with a single-minded focus, before dropping to their knees beside Whumpee. They let their gun fall from their hands, instead bringing out their lock-pick (one of the many skills Caretaker had taught themself out of boredom).

“Caretaker…” Whumpee managed, voice raspy and throat raw from screaming.

“It’s me.” Caretaker murmured. “We found you, we’re getting you out of here.”

Whumpee cried out as Caretaker reached behind them to uncuff their wrists.

“God,” Caretaker said as they pulled away with the now-unlocked cuffs. “What the fuck did they do to you?”

Whumpee knew they didn’t look good. They were shirtless and without shoes, wearing only damp jeans. The wound Whumper had stitched that first day was still closed but the wound had oozed blood, and the thread was crusted and itchy. The smaller cuts and gashes Whumpee had accumulated were all in various stages of healing, with some fresh, some scabbed over, and quiet a few red and puffy with infection.

Bruises covered their body, but seemed to congregate around their knees, wrists, and shoulders. They weren’t sure if anything was dislocated, but their joints were certainly stiff from stress and disuse. They didn’t even want to think about the way their lungs seemed to rattle when they drew breath (they still fucking hated waterboarding).

Caretaker pulled Whumpee forward away from the wall, cutting off their decidedly morbid (if completely warranted) train of thought.

Whumpee groaned.

Caretaker hissed in sympathy. “Easy, I’m just gonna lay you down, okay? The others will be here soon. They’re scanning the perimeter right now.”

Whumpee managed a nod. “Yeah. K-kay.”

Caretaker gently lowered Whumpee to the ground, mindful of their injuries. They spared a pained look as they met Whumpee’s eyes, thumb brushing against their bruised face.

And then, it was back to work.

“Whumpee,” Caretaker said, voice firm but not harsh. “Report. Injuries?”

“Mm… Old stab wound on my side, my shoulders are fucked, might have pneumonia from the waterboarding…” They began to list off.

“Waterboarding?” Caretaker’s professional mask wavered for a moment as horror slipped through the cracks. “That why you’re soaking wet?”

“No. That was my gardening-hose shower.”

Caretaker covered their lingering horror with a bitter chuckle and a grin. “Well that sounds awful.”

“Yeah, I’d give it a zero out of ten stars. Note to self: Don’t get kidnapped again.” Whumpee gave a weak smile, more for Caretaker’s sake than anything.

Whumpee continued. “Anyway, probable pneumonia, minor concussion, and whatever else Whumper managed to hit when they brought out the baseball bat.”

Caretaker nodded in acknowledgment, tentatively feeling Whumpee’s shoulders for breaks.

Footsteps resounded as the rest of the team filtered in through the basement door. Whumpee let themself smile.

The nightmare was finally over.

[bonefries]

quickie concept doodles of my little nightmares OC the Seamstress! I tried my best and I have a level design in my head but lmao damn if i’ll ever actually draw the layout. My notes are an absolute disaster right now for all of it. But some lore/headcanons/info under the cut!

CW // Child Death Mention -Game mechanics wise this would be a very mini map sort of area. I am still debating if maybe it would be just a small DLC type thing much like the Nomes in the Attic DLC! Probably with a collectible hat for mono as I see this placed in the Pale-City. -Seamstress (as per my own belief of the world being as though there was an apocalypse sort of event) was once a mother. She doted on her daughter very much and would’ve done anything for her child who unfortunately is deceased. -As life became more distorted for her, she began to lose her sense of self and her memories even began becoming very mixed. The doll shown above is a replica of her deceased child and she protects it with her life as its her last true memory she has of the past. Hence it is in the glass display case and kept very well and preserved.  -Seamstress can barely remember what her life was like prior to how she is now. But she can remember the feeling of pain and grief that was caused by the traumatic event of losing her only child which ultimately twists her physical form under the influence of The Eyes. Her eyes are sewn open and she has multiple sewing tools attached to her fingers. (Two of her fingers merged so she only has 3 fingers and one thumb per hand.) Her hair no longer feels like natural human hair but rather sewing thread.  -Her levels purpose is to create an unfamiliar connection of compassion with the beings of the LN world. Passing her level requires you to take the Doll back from the Nomes who take it to fix it’s face. (Note the crack.) Upon doing this she not only grows tender for the protagonists but the Nomes as well for their fix of her child’s doll. At the end she points Six and Mono in the right direction, letting them go unharmed and leaving her with a fond memory.  -I like to HC that since the Nomes are potentially children turned into them, they are the closest to children that the Seamstress has in this world. After her encounter with Six and Mono, she takes the Nomes in and nurses them. Acquiring bundles of little nome children that help her around her house and daily life. These interactions fill the void in her heart that shes been yearning to fix for god knows how long. 

-I also headcanon that her doll was cracked by the little feral monkey children from the school, so she absolutely HATES those little puppets and will attack them on sight. She does NOT consider them children. And the teacher can throw hands with her all she wants she’ll thwack the little bastards into the next time loop. 

okay thats all i can word salad for now. I know I had a lot of other ideas but  <:^ ) i didnt write them down so i’m gonna have to let my thoughts recollect 

[ksorii]

How Compassion Can Heal Humanity and the Planet.

We read about it in our history books and see it in the daily news: humans turning arms against one another, whole cities exploding in a plume of smoke and ash, animals being brutalised to serve our greed, species of numerous organisms driven to the verge of extinction and countless other cruelties. For all our glorious achievements of mapping the stars and stripping the atom down to its quarks, we humans are selectively blind to the hurt we have inflicted upon the planet and its people.

We put on a veil of indifference that allows us to ignore issues like racism, gun violence, climate change, and terrorism when they do not affect us directly. We allow our prejudices to take root and prevent us from feeling pain for the black man who was murdered by a white police officer. We turn the other way when we see the transgender girl being kicked out of her family for the “outrageous crime” of being born into the wrong body. We forget all about the dog who was crippled by an overspeeding mini truck when we reach the next signal. We are so deeply entrenched in our own lives, so stuck on our own road that we do not have the time to stop the car, to take a detour and help out those who need us the most.

We are trapped in the quicksand of differing ideologies and interests. We’ve trained ourselves to seek out the differences between us all and have allowed those to confine us to narrow gorges of limited thought. However, the smell of freshly-baked bread gives the same joy to people, no matter which part of the world they live in. The hollow of the ribs with hunger is universal. One does not need language to appreciate the beauty of flowers blooming. The beauty of connection is its universality, and how it transcends the barriers of oceans, languages and beliefs.

Today, our planet is burning. The nitrogens, sulphurs and the burning hydrocarbons are like cigarettes charring the lungs of our planet. Animals are being killed so can we profit off their body parts. Trees are being cut for the same reason. To make space for human life, we are squeezing out the life of all others who make up our world. This is the age of the Anthropocene where we are the makers of our destiny. We decide the fate of our planet and choose which species continues, and which one dies out.

The success of the Save Tiger campaign is a testament to this. When the government recognised the alarmingly low numbers of the tiger left in the wild, it launched a conservation programme to raise the tiger population by banning hunting. Today, India has the largest tiger population in the world. The Chipko Movement is yet another example. It was inspired by about 300 Bishnoi women who sacrificed their lives to save khejri trees from being felled by the king who ruled over their region. However, the Yangtze River Dolphins suffered a much worse fate. Neglected by humans, they were last spotted more than a decade ago and are believed to be extinct now. The Dodo birds of Madagascar island became extinct in the 17th Century because they were recklessly killed by European settlers and their hunting animals. Nevertheless, two things we can learn from the past are these: our actions matter greatly, and compassion can heal both humanity and the planet.

The fossil of a 40-year-old Homo erectus male was discovered some years ago. His jaw bone had one tooth and research suggested that it was through the kindness of his community, that he could sustain himself. His species is now extinct, but if we were to show our development as a species to our evolutionary ancestors who lived 2 million years ago, they would understand nought except the string of compassion that connects all of us. Kindness and compassion are the threads that run along the cracks of the world. It is comforting to believe that if we, as a species, grow extinct one day, those who come after us will know nothing from our remains except how connected we were to each other.

It is compassion, after all, that has kept us alive. From the time when we were helpless infants dependent on our parents for food, shelter, protection and love; till the time we grow old and are at the mercy of the younger generation to provide for us, it is compassion that will hold the key to every soul. It is because of compassion that we place a bowl of water on our windowsills in summer, that volunteers work in non-profit organisations, that people provide disaster relief or medical aid. There’s goodness in every heart if you squint hard enough.

Thus, do not be silent. Silence is golden, but what use would a Midas touch be if the fruits on your plate are made of gold and you cannot eat them? What would be the use of flying cars if the Earth is so polluted that people would have to subsidize oxygen? What would be the use of sky-rise glass buildings if we keep throwing stones at each other in the name of religion, race, caste and gender? Scientific advancement without care and compassion for others is no development. The issues of the world are too large to be tackled alone, but if each one of us helps to bring a change in the environment, there will be no issue we can’t tackle.

To do that, you must find where the issues of the world intersect with your life. Go treat that bleeding dog who was hit by a mini truck. Fight for the woman who doesn’t have scars to prove the domestic violence that happens in her house. Stop the watchman when he’s taking an axe to the neem tree. Heroes do not come in capes. Heroes look like the girl returning from the market who stepped aside from her usual path and untangled the tail of a goat that was stuck between the fence, or like the doctor whose heart yearns to stop the pain of each of her patients. Heroes look very much like you and me because compassion comes from observation. When their bleeding wounds tug at our tears and our hands move of their own accord to stop their pain, that is when each of us can save the world.

[littlefreya]

Good Girl

gif credit amancanfly

Synopsis: Henry is at the gym testing the new Glute Drive while his longing wife drops by to visit and decides to play a little wicked game of teasing. 

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Explicit, this is basically ALL smut. Slight SubMale / DomFem then a lot of DomMale / SubFem, dry humping, cock teasing, dangerous driving, fingering, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight size kink (I am all the kinks today), unprotected sex and bodily fluids!

A/N: Okay so this fic was born out of the UNHOLY union between this thread and the video of Henry going “good boy” at Kal. Many thanks to my darling @agniavateira​ for helping me proofread this!

Title: Good Girl

There he is, my bear of a man. His sculpted, wide body plastered to some medieval-looking torture device. Strong, large arms hang onto the handles, muscles flexing. Slick with sweet sweat, he thrusts his hips up and down while grunting with effort.

Who the hell came up with this air-fucking machine?

I walk through the deserted mirrored room, my black painted nails scratching the glass as I draw closer toward Henry. Gyms tend to be freezing, and I’m not properly dressed for a workout session with my mini plaid skirt and a dark grey t-shirt. But his arduous gasps fill the chilled space enough to make things a little warmer. 

“What are you doing here, little one?” Henry finally asks, pausing his thrusts for a moment as he spots my cattish moves toward him.

I observe silently as I inch closer. he has his waist strapped to a bench, heavy weights of 80kg are on each side of his body while he lifts upward and presses his behind back down. A sheer layer of sweat covers him entirely, his skin glistening in the fluorescent’s light. His favourite blue top is soaked.

“I came home from the studio and my hubby wasn’t there.” I pout, standing right at the edge of the bench where his feet are pressed for support.

He pouts back at me, genuine care on his face. My darling bear might have the endurance of a large predator, but his heart is all strawberry marshmallow when it comes to his lady. He hates to spend time apart. Whenever our schedules collide it’s all about Face-timing and sending nudes. 

Honestly? I care less than he does about this shit ever getting leaked. I even keep some steamy under-the-cover selfies so I’ll have something to work with when either of us is away.

But what I hate the most, is having him here yet he’s absent. The Pre-production shenanigans have him preparing for his next role, which usually means working himself at the gym to the point of collapsing, just so he could look like some demi-god. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind him having a little body fat. That’s why I bake him pizza every weekend. What his gym coach doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.  

“I’ll be done in 10 minutes, darling.” he answers and continues to slowly push down and up again, releasing a pained grunt and clenching his teeth. “Just…  two… more… sets.”

“I don’t want to wait.” I alert him, circling the machine carefully to not get in his way. I appreciate the hard work and stamina, but I am quite tired of having the downside of the deal. Every day for the last 2 weeks I received an exhausted Cavill with aching, strained muscles. The most action I got was massaging his muscles in the bathtub which might sound romantic if not for him snoring 3 minutes in.   

“Ten minutes,” he mentions again. He’s out of breath as he ascends and then lowers once more, the weights pressuring his body down while the bands create a resistance. 

No way in hell someone came up with this device and didn’t think this is a sex thing. I see my bear thrusting his hips upward like this and only one thing goes through my mind. 

Oh, how I need to be on top of this mountain of a man.

I cannot help myself, nor can I hide the malicious grin forming on my mouth. I lift my leg carefully, hovering it in the air above him. I cage him between my straddled legs whilst giving him my best dominatrix glare. Henry raises his eyes to meet mine, looking dumbfounded. 

“What are you doing, darling? You’ll hurt yourself.”

Oh, sweet summer child. 

I sway my hips in a slow dance, with the thrust of his body and his heavy breaths as the music I’m dancing to. The arousal in his eyes is evident within seconds. His lips part away slowly, his beautiful blue eyes begin to cloud, and his adam’s apple slides upward in his throat as he swallows.

“At home.”

“Here.” I ignore his request lowering myself slowly and carefully to squat over his groin. He’s not hard, yet.

Henry releases a deep loud grunt. Usually, I am weightless for him, but right now I’m adding to already 160kg of weights. Well, he is the type of guy who likes to push his limits and I am the type of girl who likes to test boundaries. 

“Don’t,” Henry protests, another grunt escaping his lips. I stretch myself, my ass pressing back, my groin rubbing against the tender muscle that begins hardening between my legs. I can feel the rush of blood, making him throb and grow vast between my legs.

“Don’t do what?” I press my teeth against the lushness of my lower lip viciously, beginning to grind against the hardness in slow circular motions. “Don’t you have two more sets?”

He clenches his teeth, his hands tightening around the handles so harshly his knuckles whiten. With great effort he lifts up, succumbing to my wickedness. His erected cock is concealed underneath his clothes, yet I press and dance onto it, making blissful moans as the friction has me singing that sweet familiar tune.

When he pulls down I dive with him, feeling the exhale of his body and the dancing twitch of muscles. I greatly anticipate the next push upward, my hands reaching to squeeze my breasts together. My panties are now soaked with moisture as I press and rub, bringing myself closer.

When he lifts again, his thrust is a wee bit faster. He’s either getting used to my weight on his groin, or the adrenaline of the beast that I’ve been teasing allows him to push higher. He angles his hips into mine, serving my need, and gives me the friction I demand. His eyes meet mine and pure darkness devours me within them. 

I am in so much fucking trouble, but it’s so worth it. 

“Oh Henry, you’re making me so wet.” 

I moan his name, rubbing myself on his cock at a demanding speed while he lifts up and down. My clit tingles, swollen against his enormous bulge as that familiar wave begins to spread. He’s so hard, so painfully swollen, and so incapable of getting any release while I ride him into a powerful orgasm.

I clutch his thighs, desperate gasps spiralling out my mouth as the pleasure continues to hit my core. My nails dig deep into the hardened flesh but I can’t be bothered.

“Oh god…” I throw my head backwards, trying to adjust my breath while my legs are shaking around his wide waist. There’s still a throbbing hardness against my burning core, the angry drumming of blood pulsating against my opening. 

I’m tempted to take my phone and capture his looks in my camera. But I’m in too much trouble as it is. Henry is drenched in sweat, upset in ways I’ve never seen in my life. He's done with his workout for today,  no doubt about that.

“Are you done?” he asks me with a frown. 

I lick my lips and lift myself up, knees nearly giving up as my legs are still numb from the intensity of pleasure. I let out a provoking giggle, putting my finger between my teeth, knowing he likes that gesture. This is my favourite battle, control. He enjoys superiority with his physical power, but every now and then I sweep the rug beneath his feet. And though he loves it when I am his good girl, sprawling and letting him take what he wants, when I am bad, the beast is willing to split my ass in half.

Guess I won this round. 

Henry unbuckles the harness from his waist as I step back. He takes the towel from the bench and wipes his face. My eyes fixate on the still hard swelling in his nether area. I could offer to take care of it for him, but I am not feeling this generous right now. Better keep his stamina for home, so I can actually get me a proper shag in a nice, clean bed with a nice, clean husband that doesn’t smell like an entire rugby team.

“Go wait in the reception.” he demands, his tone anything but sweet right now. 

“Don’t take too long.” I demand in return as I turn around, flipping back my hair and letting it slide down my ass. I can hear his frustrated groan behind me, just before I leave the room. It makes me lose myself in a burst of chuckles. 

~*~

Henry meets me downstairs, a serious expression on his face. His gaze doesn’t meet mine, letting me know that unlike myself, he is vastly unamused. He takes my wrist in his big hand and leads me outside while smiling to bid bored receptionist goodbye. 

I am forced to follow his large strides. Being a tall man, every step of his is equal to three small ones of mine. Even though it seems like his “problem” subsided, he’s not exactly interested in waiting.

He’d always be tender in his behaviour towards me, a respectful gentleman who knows how to treat women. Sure, he can rearrange a guy’s skull, but he never raised his voice at me. He’d take a walk outside the house and then return to so we can have a talk like adults. 

But this is not a fight. This is but our favourite little war. Ongoing from the day we met.

I notice that we are not going to the car. Instead, he leads me to a narrow, dark space between two buildings. I can smell the damp sidewalk, the scent of earlier rain filling my nose. This spot is anything but romantic or erotic, with street cats screeching at the back and the sounds of trash cans being hit as they bounce on top of the lids.

Finally, he towers above me. His hand lets go of mine and hold it open in front of me with a demanding look in his eyes.

“Take off your panties.” 

I let out a bemused laugh, dry and short as I am uncertain of his odd demand. But he holds out his hand at the stern request, motioning for me to do as I’m told. 

“Here?!” I ask, looking around to see if there is anyone who might be a voyeur on our little engagement. The last thing I need is our agents scolding us again for photos of us being inappropriate in public places. Gretchen swears we make these mess on purpose. We kinda do, because we can’t keep away from one another.

“You want another one of your fancy pairs turned into rubbish?” he threatens.

I comply, breathing out like a brat and leaning down to take off my underwear for him. I place it in his hand and move back against the wall, anticipating his next move. I guess “Cavill and wife caught doing cardio after the gym!” could be a funny headline, better than the one at the hotel at the Academy Awards.

Henry folds the small material in his hand, holding it in his fist as if it’s something he can actually squeeze, before shoving it into his pocket. He grabs something else in exchange. I hear the chink of his car keys, dangling between his fingers as he offers them to me.

“You drive.”

There are no explanations, nor can I make anything of his behaviour. My man is willed with the control of his emotions. To outburst is to be weak, I am keen on that, my own terrible flaw. It only pisses me off more to see him keeping himself so relaxed while I am always the one who sees fire. 

I follow his order, walking after him silently as he leads me to where he parked the car. Having no underwear beneath my short skirt is anything but convenient right now, especially when I have to enter the vehicle and crouch down. 

I try fixing my skirt to cover myself, feeling the leather of the seat beneath my ass and other regions while Henry begins messing with the music player. I can see the small smirk at the corner of his lip, it’s evident that he’s having himself a good time knowing how uncomfortable I am at this very moment.

I roll my eyes at him and try closing my knees together as much as I can while stepping my foot on the gas.

He puts on Queens of the Stone Age and takes the passenger seat back, remembering he needs more legroom than I usually require. His head turns to face me, his lips sucked into his mouth in a cunning gesture.

“Had yourself a good time?” 

His hand reaches toward my knee, grazing at the bone with featherlike movements. It tickles, I am forced to move my knee from him involuntarily, but he keeps it in place, resting his entire large hand on my kneecap.

“I’m driving…” I warn him, keeping my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road.  

I can tell he is smirking wickedly, his eyes staring at the road ahead of us carefully and then back at me. His fingers make their way up my thigh, snakelike on my bare skin. His palm is large and warm, pressing onto my inner thigh while his thumb draws invisible circles on my skin.

“Henry…” I warn again, feeling cool air blowing against my lips as he forces my legs to part wider for him. “You’ll get us killed!”

“Then focus on the road.” he commands, licking his lips. His fingers meet my wetness in a touch so tender it’s almost a phantasm, yet still there, undoubtedly making me swallow a sigh and squirm slightly in my seat. It’s as if he is testing the water first, a slight brush before plunging in and damn if he doesn’t push into me with his fingers, pressing three of his large digits to massage my heat. 

“Fuck!” 

I am fighting to keep my eyes open, my hands clutching at the steering wheel while my left foot kicks at the floor. 

“Maybe we should stop.” I suggest, nearly pleading. 

“Keep driving, we’re almost home.” he answers, sounding relaxed. The amused grin has vanished from his face, replaced with the severeness of pride and triumph.

He strokes my cunt between his fingers in a tight grip, his fingers running up and down, playing with my wetness, smearing it across his hand before plunging two of his knuckles inside me as we stop at a red light. I am very much aware that other drivers might see us, so does he, but he seems to care very little if anyone spots him pleasing his wife. 

“Aww…” he mocks me, hearing the helpless cry that pushes out of my throat. “You shouldn’t have been such a bad little girl.” he teases some more, his fingers now plunging in and out with excitement. I allow myself to grind at the surface of his palm to achieve more friction at the base of my clit so maybe we can finish this quickly before the light is green.

But he’s the one in charge of my satisfaction now. He holds his hand further, so I will have none of it and keeps the stimulation only at the rim of my cunt, his fingers circling my entrance. 

“Too bad you had to tease me like that.” he murmurs in his low voice, his fingers slowly withdrawing and only his thumb grants my clit with a small tender brush.

 “Now you’ll have to wait, and be a good girl for daddy.”     

I let out another cry, arching toward the wheel and biting on my lips. It's not out of pleasure, but out of torturous frustration as he withdraws completely. I give him a quick, infuriated stare, seeing how he sucks his fingers victoriously, enjoying every single drop of his sweet win.

Feeling slick between my thighs, I press slightly harder on the gas pedal, trying to get us home faster. Henry pumps the volume of the music player higher.

Watch you come from above

I'm so needy for love, I'm desperate,

Greedy in slavery I sneak around from behind I got a one track mind We got a skin on skin thing baby I want to lick you too much I hear you comin ooh aaaah baby 

~*~

The moment we enter the house I lock the door and try to make my move but he has his hand on my throat in less than a second, squeezing not too tight, but tight enough to make a point. His blue eyes scan my face, his soft tongue slithering across the freckle of his lower lip with arousal. 

“Get on your knees, little one. You’re not off the hook yet.” 

I gasp at his fierceness, weak against his charisma and beauty. I stroke his face, still sticky with sweat from earlier, my fingers are gently smoothing against the stubbles on his high cheekbones and at the dimple of his chin. 

“Please, daddy, just fuck me already,” I bargain. 

“I’m wet and ready for you.”

“On your knees.” he repeats himself, his lips twitching to a small grin as he sees my defeat. His hand slightly releases my neck, his fingers pet my chin and jaw and finally entangle in my hair as I fall to my knees slowly, levelling myself at the height of his groin. His hand strokes my head lovingly, pressing my chin against his growing arousal as I look up to him with fake innocence.  

“Are you gonna be good now?” he asks, his fingers twirling around my long hair lovingly. 

“Yes, daddy.” I nod, waiting to have his cock in me, in any part of me. I want to touch myself so badly, my pussy throbs with desperate eagerness to be stuffed by his huge cock. . 

“I want to see you crawl on fours and wait for me in the living room, babygirl.” he growls at me while discarding his blue top on the wooden floor, exposing his thick hairy chest. 

“I want to look at your cunt as you move for me before I’ll destroy it. You’ve been such a nasty girl today.” 

I shiver at his words, a shrill of air kicks out of my lungs at once. My toughness is down to non-existing. I let him have it, I let him have it all. I crawl on my knees and palms like a cat in heat, my ass exposed for him. My cunt drips with primal desire to be conquered by this menacing alpha. I stop for a moment and then look behind me. I see him kicking off his shoes, his sweats slipping down his thick thighs along with his briefs before he continues to follow me, holding his erection in his hand, massaging the base of his cock while looking at me to open wide for him.

I reach the furry white IKEA carpet in our living room and wait for him, still on all fours. His heavy footsteps make the wood creak beneath his weight which alerts me that he’s close. The heat of his body is near. I feel the aura of his body as he falls down to his knees carefully behind me. 

His hands smooth against the curve of my ass, appreciating my shape to the point of worshipping my flesh. He takes the time to study again what he knows better than I do, trailing up to lift my skirt until it’s hiked around my belly. He then pushes my shirt, prompting me to take it off. Not an easy task to perform on all four limbs.

For one lingering moment, his hands roam across my body, massaging my muscles, pinching my nipples between his fingers. I moan beneath his large hands as he coaxes me into being his little plaything, succumbing to his will. Possessive fingers grip my shoulder and in a sudden movement, I’m pressed with my back down while Henry pushes my legs apart with his knees. 

“I just love to look at your face when I fuck you, babygirl.” he explains, his hands pulling my legs violently against his hips to position me as he desires. That way, we can both enjoy the show of his cock slipping in and out of my slit.

I squirm beneath him, my hands reaching for his chest to stroke at the thick dark hair and hardened pecs. “Please, fuck me.” I beg to the point of whining as I look at his sturdy cock, admiring every vein and ridge that decorates his impressive size. Henry takes himself and begins to tease my entrance, making teasing groaning voices while I plea so weakly. 

But that’s only to prepare me for his brutal invasion. He lets out a loud husky shout as he pushes in, penetrating me with such vulgarness, it takes the air out of my lungs. I am split in half, feeling how my body stretches immediately to bind itself to him. 

My narrow slit tries to remain resilient while Henry keeps himself nested between my lush folds, a groan of pure pleasure vibrates through his glorious chest before he takes my jaw in his great hand and makes me look at him to see the sin in his eyes.

“Good girl…”  he calls out in his deep low voice, pulling himself out slowly and then slamming back inside me in with a slippery wet slap. I gasp, my entire body shuddering in his veiny arms. 

“Good girl.” He speaks again, letting the words roll and linger on his tongue.

His rhythm is somewhere between torturous to divine. When he pulls away he does it ever so slowly, watching with perverse fascination his own cock as it slides out my narrow entrance just before he slams back in. Henry promised that he will destroy me; he never breaks a promise. I already feel how my muscles are thrown into a paradox, trying to resist him yet have him deeper and deeper with each one of his amazing thrusts.  

“Look at how you take me,” he calls in a guttural voice, urging me to look at our union. “You have such a tight succulent cunt, baby.” 

It feels almost too sinful to stare, my entire existence shivers at the sight. His big beautiful cock enters me, slick with my juices as he increases the pace. I’m petite but with him inside I’m forced to expand, my body stealing his shape, embracing him with devotion, wanting him to be like this forever.

His wide thighs are placed right beneath my legs, his right hand silks its way down my hip and grips me roughly as he pounds me in increasing speed. With one hand still on my jaw, he presses his fingers to my mouth where I suck and bite at him. He always wants me to look at him, loves it when I’m hopeless beneath him when my mouth cries for him while he stuffs me with his cock, over and over again. 

I squirm to meet his pelvis. He fucks me so raw that no actual words come out of my mouth but the mewls of a small, helpless animal instead. Being hunted for sport rather than eating. I grind my clit against his pubic bone to elicit more delightful friction, getting me closer and closer. But I’m stealing control and he’ll have none of that right now. 

He shoves us down, pinning my hands against each side of my head while his groin is holding me down to the surface in complete captivity. I am hurting for a mere moment as he shoves too forcefully. His apology is a deep passionate kiss which he is forced to break as we both gasp for air with every merciless push of his loins into mine. 

“Fuck babygirl!” He leans his forehead against mine, a feral gaze in his eyes. I lock my legs around his waist, my body losing every grip it ever had on control as the warmth begins to throb at the base of my cunt, spreading from my womb towards every nerve until I feel nothing but love flowing through my body.

I pant in awe, my voice adding to his deep growls and husky gasps which only become louder as his orgasm looms closer with the tightness of my cunt around his swelling cock. It sucks him harder, demanding his release, milking him of his offering until he shudders through me and yells out my name. 

The gush of warmth that spills inside me is my second favorite thing in the world. I moan with sweet delight as his cream coats me inside.

“I love you so much.” he whispers, holding me in his protective embrace as if to apologize for fucking me so hard.

I’d imagine that after such a long time together he’d already figure it out that I’m the one provoking it.

“What’s the name of that device again?.. the one I was…”

“Glute drive.”

“Glute drive, yeah, we’ll do that again soon…” I suggest, nibbling at his ear playfully while he remains on top of me.

~*~

Song lyrics are by Queens of the Stone Age - Skin on Skin

[johannas-motivational-insults]

So I don’t mean this argumentatively, I’m just genuinely confused & would like to understand this. I also struggle with empathy & take things very literally, so that could be part of why I’m not understanding. But where is Catra shown to be empathetic or compassionate? I understand that her abuse informs a lot of her actions and that’s why she is impulsive, lies, and manipulates others in the earlier seasons- they’re survival tactics that she got from SW + growing up in the Horde.

But I didn’t notice her going out of her way for others unless it could also benefit her in some way. I’ve also seen people say that she died in the process of sending Glimmer to Adora, & therefore deserves redemption because she made the ultimate sacrifice, only to then be saved and effectively made to work on her behavior and become a better person. And that would be all well & good, except we don’t really see her working on her behavior, except in the scene where she’s telling Adora that she’s working on her anger, and in the scene where she asks her to stay. I’m also not sure that she actually died, though I have heard a lot of people saying that. And I get that it’s called a redemption arc for a reason, & that the implication is that she will continue to work on her behavior and be better, but I just don’t know that we saw enough of that in the show.

So the thing with Catra is that a lot of this is pretty subtle. And as I said in the other ask that I assume you’re referring to with this, she’s often driven by a mix of selfish and unselfish motives. You’re correct that a lot of the times she does things for other people could also be seen as selfish moves because there’s something in it for her too, but that’s not always true and even when it is it doesn’t mean that that empathy or care for other people isn’t there.

Some examples of times when she shows empathy/care for others while also helping herself:

Gives Adora the sword so she and Glimmer can escape in 1x09, which is a kindness to Adora but also allows Catra to keep her job and her power (even if it breaks her heart to give up on bringing Adora back)

Warns Entrapta to stay out of Hordak’s sanctum and chases Entrapta down when she defies her in 2x03, which seems to be a mix of not wanting to deal with an angry Hordak herself and protecting a rather oblivious Entrapta from getting into trouble

(Note that in both of these examples she does this in a rather brusque or mean way, hiding her concern, but the subtext is there if you watch closely)

However, there are also many instances where Catra helps other people despite there not only being nothing in it for her, but when it’s actually against her own interests. Here’s the ones I can think of off the top of my head (but I’m sure there’s more):

Lies about Adora’s whereabouts and then her identity as She-Ra early in season 1 to protect her from the Horde, even after she’s promoted to Force Captain, which is dangerous not only to her career but to her life and limb

Tries to comfort her abuser Shadow Weaver when she sees her in distress in 1x04 and 1x10, the former instance right after Shadow Weaver gears up to attack her and "drag the truth” from her mind (anyone less empathetic would run away or even gloat)

Brings Shadow Weaver her old badge in 2x06 as a final favor when SW is about to be shipped away for good, despite it possibly being something that could get her in trouble and there being nothing in it for her (and in fact if she’s as selfish and callous as some say she’d deny SW this closure out of spite)

Turns down Scorpia’s offer to break her out of prison in 3x01, which seems to be entirely for Scorpia’s benefit as Catra has nothing to lose at this point (people just don’t see the compassion in this because she drives Scorpia away in a mean way to ensure she actually leaves)

Doesn’t tell Hordak that Scorpia “broke the recordings” that were inside Emily in 4x06, lies and says there was nothing, which turns Hordak’s anger on her instead of Scorpia (this perhaps is also motivated by guilt over how she just yelled at Scorpia and said awful things to her -- like I said, Catra is complicated -- but alleviating her guilt doesn’t help her situation at all so that’s borderline)

If you want, there’s a whole tweet thread of instances of Catra showing care and empathy for others. Some of these are weaker than others and the list may not be complete, but they’re all there for your consideration.

In addition to the things she does for other people, a lot of this is in her body language. If you really watch Catra, you can see that being cruel does not come naturally to her and she feels conflicted about a lot of her choices (or is straight up haunted by them, like her nightmare about betraying Entrapta in 4x03). Likewise, you often see her expression soften when she sees someone in distress. There are so many examples, it’s something baked into her character and it’s evident throughout the show, even when she’s at her lowest. But I think people often miss these moments because she usually shoves that initial reaction down and reacts in a way that on paper just makes her look like a cruel villain. For instance, she has a particularly guilt-stricken moment in 4x12 when Kyle calls her out for treating her old squad badly before she reacts by shoving that guilt down and reasserting her power, as that’s the only thing protecting her.

You have to understand that Catra was taught both implicitly and explicitly that compassion and vulnerability are weaknesses. And throughout the show, oftentimes when she does open up or do something for someone else it results in her being hurt/betrayed. Shadow Weaver in 2x06 and Double Trouble in 4x13 teach her that trusting people and allowing them in is dangerous and only ends in pain and devastation (and with Shadow Weaver, it teaches her the same lesson about showing mercy). When she spirals into her homocidal/suicidal breakdown starting in 3x03 it’s because she finds out Shadow Weaver left her to join the rebellion, just like Adora, and that Bright Moon is now harboring her abuser (as she understands it). Thing is, that all happens just as she’s starting to open up to and actually befriend Scorpia, and even though Scorpia isn’t the one who hurt her it still reinforces that pattern that vulnerability and kindness comes before a horrible, life-shattering event. Because of all this, she hides the empathy and kindness intrinsic to her actual character under layers of power and cruelty to protect her broken heart from being hurt again and protect herself from getting removed from power, because that’s the only thing keeping her from becoming someone’s abuse victim again after so many years suffering under Shadow Weaver’s heel.

I totally hear you about wishing there was a bit more to Catra’s redemption arc, but much like the rest of her emotional arc a lot of it is implicit. I’m very glad they added that one moment where she talks about working on her anger as well as her mini arc with Perfuma in 5x10 that culminated in Perfuma’s speech about learning to be vulnerable so you can be happy. But there’s lots of smaller moments buried in the season too, where we see her conflicted and struggling with these impulses of protecting herself vs. opening up or showing kindness. I mean, her half of 5x06 was basically about that too, though that’s only the beginning of this journey. Having Melog around was great too because they not only mirror her emotions for the audience to see but also help her process said emotions. Basically, the redemption is a process for her and a lot of it is not super explicit but in the end I think we have all we need to understand who Catra really is and that she wants to do better and is going to continue to in the future.

Really, Catra’s redemption arc is not so much about making up for what she did (which I and many others wish there was more of but oh well) as it is about rediscovering her true self and honoring that, learning to be vulnerable and kind again. In the end, her willingness to open herself up to potential rejection and loss and her kindness and love motivating her to help Adora get to the Heart and complete her mission are what ended up saving the universe, and that was a very intentional choice by the creators. Catra’s journey is not about coming back to Adora, it’s about coming back to herself, and I think that’s beautiful.

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

𝔓𝔢𝔯𝔭𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔞𝔩 𝔖𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰

𝔅𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔵 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

T/W : Near Death Accident ; Comatose Reader ; Death ; 

 It was your favorite time of year, the chill of winter air and the twinkling lights that spanned across every house. That’s why you were so happy to go home, a small vacation, a mini break from the darkness of the Devildom. Not that you didn’t love it, it had become, in a sense, your home away from home. All of the brothers held a special place in your heart, one more than most though. 

“Are you packing everything, or are you leaving some of your things here?” Beel asked as he sat on the floor in front of your dresser, pulling out clothes and placing them in your suitcase. You laughed softly, turning away from the closet with a couple jackets hung over your arm. “Silly, I’m only leaving for a couple days. I’m leaving most of my stuff here for when I come back.” You walked over to him, dropping the jackets into the suitcase on the floor, kneeling down on the floor next to him, cupping his face in your hands as his lips turn down into a pout. “I’ll be back by Christmas, and I told you, I’ll call you every night.” 

He helps carry your suitcase for you down to the entryway to the house. Lucifer was standing there already, ready to open the portal for you. “Every night...” Beel whispered as he leaned in close, kissing you quickly before placing the handle to the suitcase into your hand. You nodded slowly, smiling softly up at him. “I’ll see you soon. Don’t miss me too much.” 

But he did... he missed you so much. As soon as you walked through that portal it was like a piece of his heart had been broken off and taken with you. He tried to keep himself busy, he really did, but he found himself standing in the kitchen, raiding every cupboard, every cabinet, only ever stopping to check his phone to see if you had messaged him. His heart only ached more when his screen turned up empty, not a single notification from you. It was selfish of him to think that you’d be on your phone immediately, but he couldn’t help it. He just wanted to hear from you, to hear your voice, to know that you made it to where you needed to be. 

“It’s snowing... I wish you were here to see it. I wish you were here in general, it’s so cold.” The sound of your voice, whispering into your phone, it reminded him of late night pillow talks you’d have, trying to stay quiet so Belphie wouldn’t wake up. It brought him a sense of bittersweet happiness, just enough familiarity that it made him slightly smile. “I wish I was there too. Make sure to stay warm, cover up with a bunch of blankets, I don’t want you getting sick.” His voice was just as quiet as yours, holding tightly onto your pillow, breathing in your scent. “Will do... hmm... I’m getting kind of tired. Things around here are so busy. We’re getting our tree tomorrow. I should get to bed.” He agreed, as much as he didn’t want you to go. He would talk to you the next night, and soon you’d be back home with him. Plus, you had given him a great idea. 

The next day he had ordered a fake tree, getting his brothers to help him decorate it. “Why are we doing this again?” Belphie asked from behind the tree, obviously annoyed over the fact that he had to wake up. “Y/N is coming back on Christmas, and I want to make it special.” He was counting down the days, the hours, minutes and seconds to your return. He had even bought a special gift that would be waiting for you under the tree. Christmas wasn’t really a holiday that was celebrated in their house, for obvious reasons, but he knew that you loved it, so he was doing this for you. He couldn’t wait to see your face when you came back, the house lit up bright, decked with garland and bows. 

Night time came and he sat in his room, waiting for your call, waiting to hear about the day that you had, waiting to hear your voice. He waited and waited, seconds turned to minutes, and minutes to hours, staring at his own reflection in his phone screen. “Get some sleep Beel, maybe Y/N fell asleep too.” Belphie groaned, becoming slightly irritated with his brother. “You’re right... sorry Belphie.” He sighed, sliding his phone under his pillow before laying down, worrying himself to sleep. 

He woke up early, quickly pulling his phone out from under his pillow, getting himself excited for a text that wasn’t there. Were you not awake yet? Had you forgotten about him? He was confused, and the worry that had put him to sleep last night was still there, eating away at him. “Belphie...” He looked up to see his brothers bed was empty. His confusion only grew, it wasn’t like him to be up so early. Confusion soon turned to excitement, pushing himself off the bed and running out of his room. Had you come home earlier than planned? Everyone must have been in on it. His heart was racing, his smile growing as he ran down the stairs, seeing everyone standing in the middle of the living room. “Where are they? Where’s Y/N?!” He asked breathlessly, his smile still wide as he looked around the room. 

Why was he the only one smiling? Why did everyone look so upset? His smile faltered, watching as his brothers all dispersed, not saying a single word to him as they walked by, the only brother left was Lucifer. “What’s going on?” Beel asked, staring at the eldest brother who’s own face was contorted into one of pain. He hadn’t seen his brother look like that in so long... 

There had been an accident, you were comatose in the hospital, on life support. His mind went blank, that couldn’t be possible. You were supposed to come back for Christmas, the entire house was decorated for you, everything he did, he did it for you. “They’ll still be back by Christmas though?” He knew it was a stupid question, but it was the season of perpetual hope, and that was all he could do. He hoped that you’d be back, if not by Christmas, then whenever you could. As long as you came back. 

“It doesn’t seem likely that Y/N is coming back... not to us.” Lucifer stood from the chair he was sitting in, nodding to Beel as he tried to walk by. “Please... fix it. We can fix it.” He put his hand against Lucifer’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. “No. We can’t. You know that already. I’m sorry, but what’s done is done.” He moved Beels hand off his chest, walking to his office, leaving Beel alone in the living room. 

Lucifer was right. He knew that they couldn’t fix it. No one could fix it. The last time things were “fixed”, he had lost his sister, he didn’t want to possibly lose Belphie too. It was fate, and your fate had been set in stone the minute you were born, everything in your life was leading up to that moment, but still, it wasn’t fair. Why had he been shown such happiness only for it to be ripped away from him so suddenly? Was it some form of punishment from his Father? Had he not been punished enough already? So many questions that he knew he would never get the answers to. 

He looked around the living room at the decorations, lights and bows and garland that didn’t bring him the joy and peace that it was supposed to. It was just a reminder that you’d never come home to see it, and if you weren’t there to see it, he didn’t want it there. “Perpetual hope... more like perpetual sadness.” He mumbled to himself as he slowly unstrung the lights from the tree, pulling off ornaments that he had been so excited about before. Everything went into the garbage, everything but the gift he had been planning on giving you. That was kept in the back of his closet, hidden away, holding onto the small thread of hope that he would one day be able to give it to you. 

[neuxue]

Rand has LTT, Mat has the Eelfinn memories, Perrin has the wolves, Nynaeve has surrendering, and Elayne is trying to build a real person beyond the queen persona she has been trained to be. So what's Egwene's struggle for an identity? It seems like she just becomes someone else when she needs to, from Mini-Nynaeve, to aspiring channeler to Tinker to novice to Aes Sedai to Aiel to Amyrlin. Does she have an internal conflict?

It’s funny, because you actually describe something I think is closely linked to her growth and her search for identity in your ask:

she just becomes someone else when she needs to, from Mini-Nynaeve, to aspiring channeler to Tinker to novice to Aes Sedai to Aiel to Amyrlin.

Because Egwene’s story is less about a conflict of identity, and more about learning and discovering and shaping that identity. It’s about deciding who she is, and who she wants to be.

Even more so than most of the other central characters, Egwene’s is a coming-of-age story. A story and a journey of self-discovery, of a young girl with dreams too big for her little world, a girl with bright but as-yet unformed ambitions, setting off on a path that darkens those dreams and sharpens those ambitions but also lets her explore past the edge of what once was a horizon, see all the things she could be and do and become, and eventually leads her to a more deliberate, definite, certain version of herself.

It’s important, I think, to remember just how young Egwene is, when the story begins. The youngest of those who set out from Emond’s Field, and one of the youngest of the main cast as a whole. Elayne is a similar age, but Elayne’s been raised from birth to a specific role, to hold a specific place in the world. Egwene... in her way has, too, but she’s seventeen and has never set foot outside of the Two Rivers and never had the reason or chance to think about who and what she could be, in a wider world. All she knows, when strangers come and adventure calls and Moiraine speaks of a spark, is that she wants something — oh, sure, why not, let’s have a Disney quote here — something more than this provincial life.

For all the others who leave Emond’s Field, there’s a secondary element. The boys have all in their way been Chosen, marked by the tightening threads of the Pattern, and for them there is little choice but to step into that role and eventually learn what it means to accept it. Nynaeve isn’t a Chosen One, but one of the key differences between her and Egwene is that she’s old enough to have established something of her life and her sense of self and purpose and place in the world, whereas Egwene is only just beginning to look for that.

So for Nynaeve, it’s about figuring out how to go from who she was to who she is becoming. It’s about accepting a part of herself she’s afraid of, because she thought she knew who she was, what she was, where she belonged, where she fit. Whereas Egwene has only just come of age when she leaves Emond’s Field. She’s not rediscovering who she is; she’s just starting on that path in the first place--because it’s time, and also because she wants to.

And so she sets off on this path of wanting, of adventure and discovery and seeking something more, and of course she tries on everything she comes across for size. Of course she tries out different personas, different mindsets, different ways of looking at the world, different ways of being. 

It’s all new to her, this vast world full of possibility and power that she never even dreamed of. It’s all that yearning for something more, that unspecified wanting, coalescing into specific shapes, into defined options, into ‘you could be this, or this, or this’. It’s all new and it’s all fascinating and one of Egwene’s defining traits is this insatiable curiosity and interest and determination to be the best she can be.

So she tries different possibilities on for size, throwing herself into them with that same bright ambition and curiosity, and learns a little more about herself and the world and those around her as she does. And we see that as well; we see the parts of her that shine through no matter what role she’s embodying--the desire to learn, the drive to do more, the ambition, the resourcefulness, the love she holds for her friends, the strength of will... we see her grow into all of these as she grows into herself. As she figures out, by trying everything, who she really is and what she really wants and how to be that.

For some of the others, it’s about holding on to a sense of identity against invasive or antagonistic forces, or against their own fears. And sure, Egwene faces all kinds of pressures and demands and pain, and as the story goes on she does fight to remind herself of the path she is determined to walk, and of where she will or will not draw her lines. 

But ultimately, Egwene’s is a story of stepping out into the world and finding her place in it. Of having all her doors and horizons thrown open and being told you can be whatever you want to be, and having to decide for herself what that is.

[imacandleinthewind]

While you are up here, standing at the edge of the roof with the intent to jump off, first look beneath you at the street below and all the people walking along it. There are probably a few joggers wearing backwards baseball caps and sports bras, couples strolling along hand in hand, young mothers rushing with their small children to run errands, even a homeless man or woman sitting on a nearby park bench.

Each and every single person on the street below may be a complete and utter stranger, but if you jump, they will forever be connected to you irrevocably. If you jump off the roof, your body will fall to the pavement below and you will hit like a smashed blood orange. One of those strangers will watch you fall and will be able to do absolutely nothing about it. Maybe it’s the jogger who watches you fall. Then, at the physical moment of impact, another stranger, maybe the young mother this time, will rush to your body, the life already draining from it like water from a bathtub, and will call 911. Her young child will witness your death and will have no idea what is going on.

You may think that the jogger or the mother or the child will forget about the incident, that you are just another body in a long line of bodies that they hear or read about in the obituaries every day, but that’s where you’re wrong. The jogger who watched you fall also watched you die, and will forever be changed by the fact that they were unable to save you. They may wake up in the middle of the night with a pulsing heart, covered in sweat, reliving the event over and over again, and in the dream they’ll be about to reach out a hand to grasp for you, or they’ll see an abandoned mattress lying by the side of the road, and they’ll drag it over to the spot beneath your body, but the dream will end seconds before you hit the ground. You’ll keep dying over and over again in their dreams, and over and over again, they won’t be able to do a thing about it. They’ll never stop hating themselves for it.

The mother who called 911? She’ll forever be changed too. Because she will be with her child, and she will be thinking about her child growing into an awkward, unsure teenager, someone who likes heavy metal and wants to be shut up in their room all the time. She will be worrying that what happened to you will happen to her child too, because her child witnessed it. She will be terrified that one day, her child is going to be so full of pain like a shook-up bottle that they will do anything to release the pressure of that bottle and let the pain out through a hole in the side of the plastic. That mother will spend the rest of her life in constant worry and fear that one day her child is going to be the person you were and will end up like you did.

For the child, it will be but a brief moment in a series of colored flashes that are the memories of children, but this one will stick out more so than the others. It will be what is termed as a “flashbulb memory” in psychology. Years later, they will be able to remember exactly what they were doing and wearing at the moment of your death. They will remember that they were wearing a red short-sleeved shirt, black shorts, and mini Birkenstocks, and that your body as it fell looked like an angel’s because of the way your arms were held out at your sides like wings. They will not know, at the moment of your death, what you were doing, but they will figure it out later, and they will know that they saw a life being purposely cut short before their very eyes.

Yes, your parents and friends will have to go to the hospital and identify your dead body, and they will hold your cold clammy hand and marvel at how their child, whom they brought into life like a candle into the dark, has now been removed from it before their time. Yes, your sister will no longer be able to joke with you about dates or her boyfriend’s unhygienic habits or her teacher’s tendency to chew on his fingernails while his class is taking a particularly difficult test. Yes, your grandparents will not attend your graduation because you will have not graduated, because it is no longer possible for you to walk across the stage and accept your diploma.

Yes, your friends will never be able to laugh with you and go out for ice cream with you, or gossip and relive favorite past memories of childhood and elementary school. Yes, they will move on into their lives with a hole the precise shape and size of you cut into those lives, like a cookie cutter slapped suddenly into dough.

Yes, the people closest to you, people you loved and people that loved you in the most overwhelming, incredible way in return, will miss you dearly. Your death will forever have an impact on them, and they will see your ghost everywhere they turn.

However, you know full well that even with friends and family surrounding you, you can be alone as ever. You can be the loneliest person in the entire world; you can feel as if you are the only person on the planet.

But what you don’t understand, at this very moment, as you are standing on this roof, is that you are not alone in the way you think you are. You think you’re the kind of alone that means alone in a crowd of strangers, alone in a room full of people you’ve never even met.

You think no one cares that you are standing up here on this roof, waiting to die.

But the reality is that each and every single person beneath you on the streets and sidewalk right now are living and breathing, and if you jump, they will continue living and breathing, but in a vastly different way than before. They will be forever changed. The jogger, the mother, the young child, the couples, the homeless men and women-their lives will never be the same, because they will witness the ending of a life when they have already been so deeply taught that the beginning of a life is the most precious thing of all.

All these people form a web, an interconnected web, and you are at the very center of it. They surround you like insects, and you are the spider.

You can do what you wish right now. You can catch them or you can let them escape.

Whatever your choice may be, a spider in a web surrounded by insects is never alone. It is connected to them by billions and billions of threads.

You are not alone. You are the furthest thing from it at this very moment.

So step back from the roof now.

Turn around and climb back through the window.

Shut it. Roll down the curtain.

Breathe.

- Meggie Royer