#how it's the responsibility of each generation

[pvnkassbvtch]

This is really good! In situations where the emotion I'm experiencing is obviously really old, and coming from past negative experiences, sometimes it helps me to personify the emotion as a small scared younger version of myself, and then I try to have a little chat with it. I ask it questions and imagine how it would respond.

Things like, - "where does it hurt?" (general-purpose "what are you feeling/where in your body/is there something specific you're upset about" type question, I find the open endedness allows me to just talk it out with myself) - "what do you wish had happened?" (allows me to validate my own need for a sense of justice, not always helpful but useful in "some of that shit should not have happened" situations. Gives me an excuse to fantasize about being rescued from a bad situation, and validate that desire even if I can't go back in time and make it happen) - "what do we do now?" (allows me to bring my focus back to the present moment and how the emotion interacts with it. Gives me an opportunity to assess whether I'm actually threatened by whatever triggered me, or if this is a different situation altogether and something I don't need to worry about. Forcing this step at the beginning doesn't usually work unless I've already done some work with this specific feeling before, but it can be helpful for deescalating a panic response where it isn't warranted)

This isn't the way my therapist taught me to do it, it's what I figured out works best for me after analyzing the technique my therapist taught me and figuring out the purpose and function of each step.

I’m about to save you thousands of dollars in therapy by teaching you what I learned paying thousands of dollars for therapy:

It may sound woo woo but it’s an important skill capitalism and hyper individualism have robbed us of as human beings.

Learn to process your emotions. It will improve your mental health and quality of life. Emotions serve a biological purpose, they aren’t just things that happen for no reason.

1. Pause and notice you’re having a big feeling or reaching for a distraction to maybe avoid a feeling. Notice what triggered the feeling or need for a distraction without judgement. Just note that it’s there. Don’t label it as good or bad.

2. Find it in your body. Where do you feel it? Your chest? Your head? Your stomach? Does it feel like a weight everywhere? Does it feel like you’re vibrating? Does it feel like you’re numb all over?

3. Name the feeling. Look up an emotion chart if you need to. Find the feeling that resonates the most with what you’re feeling. Is it disappointment? Heartbreak? Anxiety? Anger? Humiliation?

4. Validate the feeling. Sometimes feelings misfire or are disproportionately big, but they’re still valid. You don’t have to justify what you’re feeling, it’s just valid. Tell yourself “yeah it makes sense that you feel that right now.” Or something as simple as “I hear you.” For example: If I get really big feelings of humiliation when I lose at a game of chess, the feeling may not be necessary, but it is valid and makes sense if I grew up with parents who berated me every time I did something wrong. So I could say “Yeah I understand why we are feeling that way given how we were treated growing up. That’s valid.”

5. Do something with your body that’s not a mental distraction from the feeling. Something where you can still think. Go on a walk. Do something with your hands like art or crochet or baking. Journal. Clean a room. Figure out what works best for you.

6. Repeat, it takes practice but is a skill you can learn :)

[cuubism]

Dreamling Olympic Equestrian AU, the Sequel (less Olympics, more Equestrian)

-

Hob wished he could say he took a ‘reasonable’ approach to dating Dream after the Olympics. In actuality he basically just went home with Dream and never left. He helped him get Jessamy settled in, and then Dream wanted him to stay over, and then Hob made him breakfast the next morning, and then—

He did eventually have to go take care of his own horses, and generally get back to his real responsibilities, but it was done with reluctance. Damn him, but he’d immediately started missing Dream. Too attached, too quickly, that was always his way.

And then not a week later Dream had invited him to bring his horse and go on a hack, and, well. Maybe Hob wasn’t the only one being unreasonable about it.

Safe to say they had never really gotten rid of each other after that.

By the end of the year Hob did very much the opposite of getting rid of Dream. Which was to say, marrying him. He was now the proud owner of some very cliche wedding photos of them leaning over to kiss each other while on horseback. He wouldn’t change a thing.

Afterwards, they’d both sold their respective properties, pooled their resources—mostly Dream’s resources if Hob was being totally honest—and bought a place together.

Hob still remembers finding the farm on the market and taking Dream to see it for the first time. He’d been so excited for Dream to see it. Dream had such high standards and Hob had been sure they were going to have to compromise on something, but this property had everything Dream had ever expressed wanting in a farm and other things besides. Rolling fields and connections to nearby bridle paths. A massive indoor arena for riding in inclement weather. Three-sided shelters in all of the paddocks. Automatic waterers. Heated wash stalls. The damn floors were heated too, not that they used the stalls much, but Dream’s geriatric ponies would surely appreciate it come wintertime.

(Hob had been extremely charmed to learn, upon first visiting Dream's farm, that Dream still owned the incredibly fancy ponies Hob had correctly assumed he'd grown up riding as a child. They were now ancient and feral and tended to bite anyone other than Dream. It was delightful.)

Hob’s favorite part of the property was the house. It was set a bit off from the main barn, close enough to be an easy walk but out of the way of the traffic if one was to operate the place as a full-service livery. Dream had loved the cottage at Hob’s previous farm, and this house was much the same, quaint and cozy with its own pond and meandering garden path. It even had a screened-in patio for Dream’s persnickety cats to sunbathe.

It was all perfect. Dream had actually squealed when Hob brought him to see it. It was lucky Dream had money otherwise Hob would have probably done something illegal to afford the place just to see that look on his face every day.

Six months and an amount of money Hob didn’t want to think about later, they had their own farm and had started taking on clients. It should have been idyllic. In many ways it was. Jessamy and Hob’s retired event horse, Ellie, were getting along swimmingly in their big field. Dream’s feral old ponies were rampaging about the place. The amount of space was a bit dangerous, as Dream kept sending Hob photos of pretty horses for sale, saying we have the space for it, Hob. He didn’t seem to care that the prices of said horses were upwards of one hundred thousand pounds.

It was both a blessing and a curse to have married someone who came from money.

All the better to get clients in so the stable was actually making some money instead of just bleeding cash in exchange for more horses. And this was where the trouble began. Because Dream may have been disagreeable around people but he had a soft spot for troubled horses. And when troubled horses intersected with the clients that made them that way, well. That was how they got this.

“I was led to believe I’d be getting results,” Roderick Burgess was saying as Hob stepped into the arena, leaning against the wall to watch Dream ride. “Surely an Olympian should be able to do better.”

Hob grit his teeth, but didn’t say anything, yet. Dream could handle himself.

“If you don’t like my methods, you’re free to take your horse elsewhere,” Dream said. He was trotting the horse—its name was Ruby—in a big circle at the far end of the ring, riding on a long rein, just trying to get it to bend and loosen up its neck. It didn’t seem to be particularly easy for the horse, which was troubling considering a horse that had had ‘a few years’ of training—according to Roderick—should be able to at least do basic flatwork. And should be less stiff about it besides.

“We both know that won’t happen,” said Roderick. He was probably right—now that Dream was starting to get a sense of the horse’s poor prior training, he wouldn’t want to send it elsewhere—but Hob nevertheless wanted to walk over to Roderick and toss him out of the ring. Wasn’t the point of owning your own place that you could kick out clients you didn’t like?

“Perhaps if you’d been honest about his issues, we’d have better results,” Dream said, turning across the middle of the circle to change the bend. Ruby tossed his head, struggling with the change in direction, but Dream persisted in asking him to bend and eventually got him to drop his head again, now stepping up into a canter. “I was promised a horse at at least third level yet you’ve brought me one that struggles with basic self-carriage.”

Hob thought expecting any results yet was unreasonable considering it was only the first time Dream had even gotten on the horse. He’d only gotten it in last week, and just lunged it yesterday.

“You have to be more aggressive with him,” said Roderick dismissively. “Just make him do it.”

“Am I paying you, or are you paying me?”

And on it went like that, Dream working through his usual regimen, slowly building up the difficulty, Roderick nitpicking and criticizing all the while. Hob didn’t know what he really wanted. Maybe he just got a kick out of being an asshole.

Hob did love watching Dream ride, though. Watching him work with an inexperienced horse wasn’t nearly as seamless as it was when he rode Jessamy, but his patience and light touch were always a delight to behold.

Dream eventually took up his reins, gauging the horse’s ability to go around in a more collected frame. That ability was dubious at best, but Dream kept at it, working in circles of various sizes, transitioning up and down the gaits. He would get the horse where it needed to be eventually, Hob knew. If Roderick didn’t keep interrupting with unreasonable demands.

“Are you going to do any lateral work at all?” asked Roderick with annoyance, predictably interrupting again, and Hob could almost hear Dream’s jaw clench.

“Yes, I am getting to it. It’s a horse, not a racecar.” He turned the horse down the quarter line, lightly brushing the end of his whip, which Hob hadn’t seen him use yet, against its flank to ask it to step sideways and under.

And at the first touch of the whip Ruby exploded.

If Hob had looked down for even a second he would not have seen it move, it was so fast—the horse bolted sideways away from the whip, head thrown up, legs scrambling. Dream pulled back hard on the left rein, trying to stop through a turn, but Ruby just plowed right through it, tossing its head. Hob heard the bang as they—or more likely Dream’s knee—hit the arena wall, and then Dream yanked harder and managed to turn, spinning the horse into a circle until it was forced by the tight angle to slow to a nervy walk.

Hob had automatically lurched forward to try to help, but realized fast enough that rushing over would only make things worse. He watched, tense, as Dream finally brought Ruby to a halt. A lesser rider would have been thrown; Hob was glad Dream’s seat was better than that.

“Ah, yes,” said Roderick nonchalantly from where he was still sitting, ankle crossed over his knee. “He does not enjoy the whip.”

“Were you planning to inform me of that,” said Dream, out of breath, “before or after we went through a wall?”

“I would have thought you could handle it,” Roderick said.

Hob kind of wanted to punch him in the face. Instead he went over to Dream.

Ruby was standing stock still now, breathing hard, and let out a loud huff, nostrils flaring, as Hob stopped at Dream’s side. Dream scratched the horse’s neck.

“Are you alright?” Hob asked quietly.

Dream nodded, handing the whip to Hob, though his expression was pinched, and Hob worried for his knee. “Once more and then we’ll be done. I don’t want to end on that note.”

“You cannot let him get away with that,” said Roderick sternly, seeing Hob take Dream’s whip. “He must tolerate the whip.”

“And I’m sure persisting now will teach that effectively,” Dream bit back. “Do you want an explosive horse, Roderick? Because that is what you have handed me, and if you insist upon pushing the matter like this, you will only make it worse.”

“I hired you to fix it,” Roderick snapped.

“Then let me.”

Dream brought the horse back up to a trot, did a lap around the ring and then came down the quarter line again, this time asking him to leg yield over just by bending him around his leg. Ruby was tense now, jiggling the bit in his mouth and fighting Dream’s hand, but he did move over, and once they’d reached the wall Dream let him drop back down to a walk, letting his grip on the reins slide down to the buckle. Ruby snorted loudly, dropping his head to the floor as he walked anxiously on the long rein.

“You do not have to beat him to get what you want,” Dream said, turning to Roderick.

“You care too much about their feelings,” said Roderick dismissively.

“Not caring about their feelings has gotten you very far indeed,” Dream said back.

He halted the horse by Hob and hopped down, stumbling on the landing and leaning hard on his left leg. Shit. Hob knew he’d hit the wall. Goddammit, Dream.

Before Hob could take the horse from him, Roderick’s kid, Alex, crept into the arena and came over, eyeing his father as he did. Normally Hob considered Alex kind of a liability to have around the farm—he was convinced the kid was going to get himself kicked in the head at some point—but now he handed him the reins. It was Roderick’s horse, the two of them could deal with it right now.

“Make sure to walk him out,” Hob told Alex, and then, ignoring Roderick, who’d already focused on Alex, presumably to berate him for something, he wrapped an arm around Dream’s waist and led him out of the ring.

By the time they made it into the lounge, Dream was leaning heavily against Hob’s side, limping on his right leg. God, Hob hoped he hadn’t broken something. He could only imagine how long that sort of knee injury would take Dream out.

Hob sat him down on the couch. “Can I take a look at your knee?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Dream said, even as the corners of his lips were still pressed tight in pain.

“Dream, I heard you hit the wall from the other side of the arena.”

Dream sighed, but finally started unzipping his boots.

“Breeches, too,” Hob said.

Dream gave him a look but, having removed his boots, started stripping off his socks and black riding pants as well. He looked small like that, perched on the couch in just his black boxer briefs and short-sleeve polo. Hob winced at the sight of his knee. It had already turned horribly purple from his impact with the wall. Hob crouched by him to look closer, taking Dream’s ankle in his hands, turning his leg this way and that, carefully testing the motion. “How much does it hurt?”

“Tolerable,” Dream said, watching Hob intently. Hob mentally increased all of Dream’s descriptions by several degrees of pain. “I don’t think anything is broken, or sprained.”

Having looked closer, Hob didn’t think so either; he was pretty sure it was just bruised. A nasty bruise, though. “Should keep off it for a few days, though.”

Dream sighed, put upon, but didn’t contradict him.

“I’ll get you some ice.” He had ice wraps in the freezer, and pulled one out, laying it over Dream’s knee.

Dream’s lips twitched up in a small smile. “That is for horses.”

“Well, now it’s for humans, too.” He sat beside Dream on the couch as he iced his poor knee. “We should get it checked out if it’s not any better by tomorrow. Don’t want to risk permanent damage.”

Dream touched Hob’s shoulder with light fingers. Hob was, unfortunately, speaking from experience on this matter. Though in his case it had been less ‘deciding not to get it checked out’ and more ‘completely obliterating the joint to the point that it was kind of moot.’ Hob had shown Dream the video of that fall a while back. It was not a pleasant video.

He still had a mostly functional shoulder, though.

Fortunately, Hob didn’t usually have to worry about that happening with Dream. Having a horse flip on top of you was the kind of thing that was more likely to happen when you decided it was a good idea to gallop at solid objects. Which Hob had done. Frequently.

He was kind of glad he hadn’t married a fellow adrenaline junkie.

“I can’t believe Roderick put you on that horse knowing it was going to react like that,” Hob said. He really should kick the guy out. Prick.  

“Roderick created that reaction,” said Dream. “He hardly cares if it gets someone thrown, so long as that someone is not him.”

“I care!” Hob exclaimed. “It’s our fucking stable. He can’t just use you as a crash-test dummy.”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “I am not easy to crash.”

“That’s not the point, Dream. I’ll kick him out, I swear to God.”

“I can handle Roderick Burgess. And the horse. You needn’t protect me.”

“Maybe I want to,” said Hob. He took the ice off Dream’s knee and took another look at it. The bruise only looked more hideous. “Maybe part of being your husband is that I get to protect you.”

Dream touched his cheek fondly, but said, “If we send him away, he will only take the horse to someone else, and nothing will improve.”

Hob knew it was true. He would have just bought the horse and given it to Dream just to get Roderick off the property, but he was pretty sure Roderick would just take the money and go buy another one so that wouldn’t really accomplish anything in the end.

Hob was always going to end up doing what made Dream happy anyway.

“Just…” he rubbed Dream’s thigh, careful of the bruise. “Be careful. God only knows what else he’s taught that horse to do.”

“We will find out, I suppose. Roderick will not be happy with me, though. I intend to take the horse back down to basics. He will doubtless be furious.” He did sound somewhat satisfied by the thought of it.

“Roderick can get on the damn thing himself if he’s so upset,” Hob said.

“That would be entertaining to watch, though less so for the horse,” Dream said. “Perhaps he will make Alex ride it.”

Hob rubbed his forehead in despair. “God help us all.”

“Indeed.”

“You should go back to the house and rest a while,” Hob told him.

“First I want to make sure they haven’t managed to kill Ruby,” Dream said. He levered himself to his feet, handing Hob back the ice wrap. “Besides, I am fine.”

The way he limped about while pulling on his breeches and paddock boots belied that, but Hob knew better than to argue further. At least he wasn’t getting back on the horse.

He went with Dream—only limping a little bit now—out to the barn, where Alex was getting Ruby settled in his stall. Alex looked distinctly nervous brushing the horse down, but hadn’t managed to get it—or, more surprisingly, himself—killed yet, which Hob counted as a win. Roderick was nowhere to be seen, which was probably for the best.

“Did you walk him out?” Dream asked.

Alex nodded anxiously. He seemed intimidated by Dream—which, to be fair, was a common experience for most people. Hob frequently had to remind himself that the version of Dream he saw every day—curled up in the kitchen alcove with his tea and a cat on his lap, chasing his ponies around the barn, resting his head in Hob’s lap for Hob to play with his hair—was not the version most people saw.

Ruby seemed little worse for wear for his ordeal. Dream pet the horse’s nose fondly, and it tried to nibble at his palm.

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” he said, to the horse, now ignoring Alex. “We’ll sort it out, won’t we?”

Ruby just tried to nibble on his fingers again.

With another pat to the horse’s nose, but no more words for Alex, Dream strode away again. Hob followed. Once they were out of the barn, he caught up to Dream and scooped him up in his arms, Dream clutching at his neck with a squeak.

“I’m carrying you home,” Hob said, starting off for the house. “You’re not walking.”

“I am not an invalid,” Dream protested.

“Oh, I should put you down, then?”

Dream clutched at him tighter. “You would not dare.”

“Thought so.”

And so he carried Dream down the short walk back to the house. After all, Hob thought, this was the whole point. He couldn’t necessarily prevent Dream from getting on insane horses or dealing with insane clients. But he could be there at the end of the day to carry him home.

[bloominglegumes]

judging earthspark s3

contains spoilers!!!

(my own opinion + not that serious :))

not in order bc i sketch-wrote these down while watching first but guys im so im so .head in hands

-15 pts for the character development, relationships, ideas, etc set up in s1 that were thrown out in s2 and s3. war trauma, immigrant experience, ghost aftermath, individuality, healing process, autobot guilt, byebye. so much character assassination still happening

+1 for following through i guess

+1 shockwave 'all are dead' comic cover reference and having him react to it

+5 every appearance of frenzy and laserbeak. theyre professional hecklers i love them

-1 bc of how the art direction was already established having 2d handdrawn effects but obv their animation has been toned down, there are quite a few instances of 3d smoke made to look like 2d shading which is not necessarily bad on its own but doesnt feel like it fits here

+1 rage virus had nice potential for bringing simmering resentments to surface,, wish the show delved deeper into the characters thoughts + fallout

-1 megatron's va sounds like he was given direction to hold back somehow on his delivery ?? idk it just feels like forced gentleness compared to earlier performance like his lines don't fit him

-2 animation lacking feeling of weight, movements are stiff, unnatural esp for huge guys made of metal. how in the world did twitch push megatron over

-2 fight choreo is more generic and plain,, characters tend to fight in similar ways when they wouldnt, considering different sizes, abilities, personalities etc,, everyone is just tossing each other around

-2 teasing us with breakbee and then actually setting it on fire and then killing bumblebee's personality too and while we're here thrash and mo as well

+1 escape room ep overall was kinda fun. i like the idea of leaning into twitchs big sister role but like u dont have to water down the others when highlighting one character?? the maltos are kids, but theyre not like.stupid

+1 optimus pushing megatron down to protect him and megs glancing down where optimus' hand is on him. someone in story room is pushing megop

+1 prowl being a skilled Hater on entrance

+1 "organics" (derogatory)

-1 optimus tells prowl that the war is over in defence of megatron but literally theyre fighting decepticons again two seconds later so make up your mind earthspark

-5 what are the autobots and decepticons even fighting for at this point? let's shoot them into space so we don't have to worry about that conflict anymore except megatron but he's our friend so don't think about that trust us this is earthspark our show was formed on the basis of being the aftermath of the war hasbro im going to kill you

+1 constructicon mention

+3 prowl being huggable and pickuppable (+1 optimus, +1 elita, +1 arcee)

+1 "terran thrash" "terran nightshade" "stygi-terran" "clan malto" can't tell me thats not objectively cute

+5 blaster feature

+2 megop being deeply embarrassing about robby's weird girlfriend

+5 dramatic megop fight. intense music, personal arguments, falling through the ice sinking to the bottom of the lake together, if i'm going down you're coming with me etc i love it

-1 grimmy not having a single speaking line?? am i tripping

+1 thrash throwing the hat perfectly onto prowls antler tip

-2 duller lighting and colours overall </3 my guy was seriously looking grey in ep 6..,.

+1 "romantic entanglements have hobbled many a soldier. ask optimus." thank u es writers

+1 "there are no implications. there are only facts." banger

+1 multiple pronouns used for the shapeshifting quintesson i just thought it was fun

-1 thrash's character being largely reduced to That One Kid

-1 might just be me but the whole plot with the fake girlfriend was just weird as hell ?? what purpose does it have in robby's character development,,,

-1 dot and alex being less compelling as caring responsible parents. like they're still nice,, but the way they've been written just feels less careful

-1 that movie and confession scene sorry i know it was on purpose but i could not handle the secondhand embarrassment

+1 mole-bots tbh i thought they were going to pull scraplets but they were fun

-4 starscream neglect. where is the justice. nothing but a silhouette all season and then finally all he does is go crazy and get pulled back to jail??wtf

+1 quintesson ship entrance

-1 generic character body language/performance

+1 weird al yankovic going so hard

+1 saving civilians

-2 quintus powers being suddenly able to save the day when they need it because plot

-2 how the chaos terrans are not written

-1 environments are sometimes not that fitting for the action taking place there?? like for the final fight i know theyd need a lot of space for the titan but seriously just a green grassy field and blue sky come on?? give us some artistry,..,.

-1 slightly weird voice effects for quintesson characters but that might just be me

+1 sharkticon pit plucked right out of g1 movie i love it

+1 mo being so polite "mr optimus" "ms elita" "mr prowl sir" sweetheart

+5 what the fuck do you mean "i appreciate you, megatron"

+1 hard confirmation prowl is a hugger

+1 epic titan fusion

+1 prowl being nice. dialogue with bee in that scene felt kind of in your face but it was cute

-1 arresting starscream. girlie was probably starving in there

+1 "little bird"

+1 i'm just happy to have an animated prowl having so much relevance to the main story again.tfa prowl i miss u every day

-2 tarantulas never being seen nor heard from ever again. he had an awesome design, fantastic voice acting, super well written just for hasbro to be cowards

-1 again for just dropping pretty big story points from season 1 for unclear reasons. like i said,, current state of earthspark works fine as a kid's show alone but after how mature and well-handled season 1 was it feels like watching the tv spinoff series to the actual thing. sorry but like zero integrity to the shows basis and values and what the original writing had set up for the world and the characters

[strawberry-seob]

got milk? ✩ kjs

🥛pairing: afab!reader x jongseob

🥛rating: 18+

🥛 summary: your friend group jokes that you could earn some extra cash by starting an adult breastfeeding business, but after most of them leave, you let your curiosity get the best of you and offer to let your friend jongseob try it out

🥛warnings: erotic lactation, lactation kink, adult breastfeeding, single mom reader, curious friend jongseob, soft kim jongseob, alcohol consumption

🥛word count: 1.6k

🥛a/n: just a little something i wrote for fun while i get over my writer's block and recover from being sick! cross-posted to my ao3

Guys, stop being gross,” Jongseob yelled, running a hand through his hair exasperatedly, face burning up.

Taeyang laughed, his cackle piercing through the general din of your apartment living room, while Keeho covered his mouth, trying to stifle laughter. Jiung shook his head, disappointed, while Shota and Intak fell over each other, cracking up silently, unable to breathe.

Your friends had gotten a little tipsy over dinner, and, their perversions knowing no bounds (which you couldn’t blame them for, because you were the exact same way), started asking you if you would ever charge men to drink your breast milk. Right from the source.

The most sex work you’d ever done was selling a few nudes and feet pictures, but that was before you’d had a baby. You hadn’t even considered their idea about how to make some extra cash with your body, now that you continued to lactate even after your 8-month-old infant had stopped breastfeeding.

“Jongseob, how dare you call Y/N’s body gross , it’s beautiful and capable of amazing things. Like the miracle of life! And a killer titty milk side business,” Taeyang said after he was able to catch his breath, which initiated another wave of wheezing laughter from the group, yourself included.

Jongseob was redder than ever and kept looking to you with panic in his eyes. “Oh my god that is not what I’m saying, and you know that! You’re just trying to make me look bad, like always!” he yelled at Taeyang, pinching the older man’s sides and eliciting a string of screams and profanity from him.

You couldn’t stop laughing, but even after the rest of the guys had left and Jongseob remained to help you clean up (like he always did), you also couldn’t stop thinking about their little idea .

You looked over to where Jongseob sat on the couch, shaggy blonde hair covering his eyes, feet propped up, staring at his phone and scrolling mindlessly – his baseline position.

“Hey,” you said, after staring at him for an uncomfortably long time from the other end of the couch. 

“Hm,” he responded absently without looking up at you.

“Do you actually think it’d be gross? Y’know, the whole adult breastfeeding thing?” you asked, alcohol still buzzing through your system and causing your inhibitions to be a little more numbed than usual.

“What?” Jongseob balked, head snapping up to look at you, discomfort suddenly marring his features, that familiar blush rising in his cheeks again. “That’s not what I–ugh,” he groaned, slipping his phone into the pocket of his gray sweatpants and hiding his face in his hands.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his response, only feeling a little bad for pressing the issue. Even after he’d been friends with you during the whole pregnancy and breastfeeding phase of your baby, he’d still get so shy about certain things. Immature as it was, you also thought it was cute. Plus, most of the time, you knew he was just trying to be polite and respectful. The rest of your shared friend group didn’t usually offer that same courtesy, as evidenced by their crude commentary that evening.

“I’m just fucking with you,” you said, tossing a small throw pillow at him, which he caught and promptly put in his lap, squirming subtly. You caught his eyes on your tits for only a moment before seeing his face blush even deeper. 

No way in hell , you thought, suddenly feeling incredibly devious. Not only that, but Jongseob’s thin gray sweatpants and fitted white tank top were leaving little to the imagination. Besides, you’d had a tiny crush on him for a while now, but hadn’t wanted it to mess with your friendship.

 A surge of boldness arose in your chest, and the words left your mouth before you could think twice.

“Would you ever try it?” you asked bluntly, training your eyes on him.

“Y/N, I’m gonna kill myself in front of you if you don’t stop teasing me,” Jongseob retorted, running both hands through his bleached hair exasperatedly and sighing loudly, the blush never leaving his cheeks.

“I’m not teasing, I’m being serious. Do you wanna try? Right now?”

Jongseob half-choked, half-laughed, face incredulous, looking like you’d just slapped him across the face. “You literally sound crazy right now.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled despite yourself. “This is your last chance, I’m not gonna offer again.”

Jongseob sat in silence for a few moments, not looking at you, and for a second you wondered if he was just going to start ignoring you out of annoyance… and then, you started wondering if you’d gone too far, regret souring your stomach, and–

“Nobody can know. And you can’t make fun of me,” he said quietly, face fixed towards his lap, refusing to look in your direction. Your mouth went dry. So, you hadn’t been wrong after all. 

“Duh,” you retorted nonchalantly. “Now get over here, doofus.”

He scowled at you as he scooted over reluctantly. “Um… how do you wanna, uh–”

“Probably easiest if you kneel on the floor in front of you. Unless you want me to hold you like a baby,” you added with a wink, and he opened his mouth to yell at you but you put your hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry, no teasing, my bad,” you blurted, and he slipped off the couch to sit on his heels in front of you. You hated the way your heartbeat sped up in your chest.

You pinched his cheek. “Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not,” he muttered, hand reaching up to rub the spot on his cheek that you’d pinched a little too hard.

Your tank top had a built-in shelf bra, so all you had to do was pull one side down, and you were instantly exposed. 

Jongseob stared at your nipple, gulped, and looked up at your face from his position on the floor. “Are you sure about this?” he said, biting his lip subtly.

“Oh my god dude, just go for it before I change my mind,” you said, rolling your eyes. He smiled for the first time since he’d agreed to do this, and flushed lightly, avoiding eye contact before leaning in to pull your nipple between his lips. He started to suck lightly and pulled back instantly, causing milk to drip from you.

“Shit, sorry, it was just, it startled me, I—”

“Well you made a mess, so now you’re gonna have to clean it up,” you interrupted him, and his eyes widened as he looked at the liquid dripping down your breast.

“Sorry, okay,” he said in a voice that was shockingly quiet, and you felt a surge of pleasure pool in your groin as the novel dynamic between the two of you started to set in.

He leaned forward again and licked from the underside of your breast to the nipple, lapping up the spilled milk, before latching his mouth to your nipple once again. He started to suck gently and, completely outside of your control, you reached a hand up to his head, stroking his surprisingly soft hair gently, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, and he sighed out his nose, closing his eyes.

Even though you’d had the slight crush for a while now, you’d never really looked at Jongseob this way before. And you knew that the hormones were partially to blame, but your whole body softened as you watched him. There was something so simultaneously innocent and dirty about the act.

He hummed as he found a rhythm, his lips suctioned against you comfortably, and you hated yourself for the intense fondness you felt towards him in that moment. You’d figured he would end up trying it out just for a moment, but he wasn’t stopping, and if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t want him to. 

You lightly caressed his cheek with the fingertips of your other hand, and whispered his name.

He startled subtly and his eyes flickered open as he pulled away, milk dripping down his chin. You swiped your thumb across his chin and, although you wanted badly to press it into his mouth to make him clean it off of you, you didn’t want to push too far, so you wiped your hand on your pants.

Jongseob looked horrified but also slightly dazed, pupils blown out. “Shit, I’m sorry, that tasted way better than I thought it would. God, this is embarrassing,” he said, raising his hands to hide his face but you grabbed them before he got the chance and he looked up at you, eyebrows pushed together in distress.”

You smiled compassionately. “You need to chill. I was going to ask if you wanted to lay down on the couch with me while you do it, so you can relax.”

His eyes widened in surprise but you could tell he wanted to accept the offer.

“Are you sure?” he said weakly, and you flicked your head back subtly. “Come on,” you encouraged, and he crawled up onto the couch with you, both of you laying down and facing each other while he positioned himself in front of your chest again. 

This time, he didn’t hesitate before taking your nipple into his mouth again, and hummed quietly as his whole body relaxed, melting into the couch next to you, his hand coming up to rest idly on your waist. 

Your hand found its way into his hair yet again as you ran your fingers through it, roaming from the soft hair behind his ears to the back of his head, and eventually to the back of his neck. You absently thought about how weird things might be between the two of you in the morning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

And without meaning to, you drifted off to the most restful sleep you’d had in weeks, your nipple never leaving Jongseob’s mouth as he dozed off as well.

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; kyojuro rengoku

requested by ; solar anon (15/09/24)

fandom(s) ; demon slayer

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; kyojuro rengoku

outline ; “may i request kyojuro rengoku general dating headcanons? :)c”

note ; i love this character so much it’s not even funny lol

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

first and foremost, this almost goes without saying but kyojuro is nothing short of a complete and utter sweetheart in how he approaches courting you — of course his responsibilities as a hashira keep him extremely busy, but he does whatever he can to carve out time for the two of you to spend together… and you can guarantee that he’s going to make the most of every second he gets to be with you even if that time is spent doing something more mundane, like chores or errands

(after all, in his line of work it’s never guaranteed that he’ll make it home to you when he takes on a new mission so he does his best to make every moment count)

this man can and will eat any and everything you put in front of him (all rengoku men have a sizeable appetite, after all), but if you happen to have cooked or baked something for him yourself then he’s going to have the biggest grin on his face while he devours it — if he’s eating with you he’ll be showering you in praise and earnestly expressing his thankfulness between every mouthful, and if you sent him with that food to a meeting/mission with other demon slayers then he’s going to be loudly bragging about how considerate his lover is and how amazing his food is to anyone in earshot

it’s 50/50 whether or not he’ll address you by your actual name or one of the few pet names he’s ascribed to you over the course of your relationship (e.g. ‘my love’, ‘beloved’, ‘my flame’ or ‘little flame’ if he’s feeling like teasing you for a change) — and for his part he loves it when you call him something super affectionate or sappy (e.g. ‘honeybuns’ or ‘baby’), but in the presence of his fellow hashira or their master he would much rather be called his first name (or, if you insist upon using a term of endearment, something simple that won’t have his entire red turning scarlet when it’s said)

you are the first person he’s ever been in a relationship with, meaning that you’re likely going to be the one initiating most of your ‘firsts’ — of course he gets the hang of things pretty quickly (he’s a fast learner), but for anything physical he’s going to be looking to you to initiate/for guidance because he really really doesn’t want to fuck this up

(difficult as that may be to believe given his general confidence and loud personality, but he’s keenly aware of his lack of experience and isn’t ashamed to ask for help or advice when he needs to do so)

he gives the most incredible hugs and is more than happy to hold you close for however long you need him to (assuming he’s not called away on urgent hashira business, of course) — and, as a bonus, because of how strong he is kyojuro is more than able to just pick you up and carry you around so you can keep hugging even as he goes about his business around your shared home

his favourite places to kiss you (aside from your lips, of course) are the top of your head, your knuckles, and your cheeks — his favourite places to be kissed are on the tip of his nose, the back of his shoulders, and on his forehead

knowing how much you worry for him when he’s sent out on longer missions, kyojuro does his very best to send you letters every few days that he’s away — trusting that his kasugai crow, kaname, will deliver each one as quickly as possible and soothe any fear you may be experiencing before it gets the chance to truly take root (and he makes sure that even the shortest of letters he sends contain an earnest declaration of his love to you because he knows it never fails to make you smile)

additionally, if his missions ever have him visiting a far off village or town he always brings something home for you — if it’s closer to home then he’s more inclined to bring things like food or flowers (gifts that are more likely to be damaged or go bad on a longer trip), but if he’s further away he’s been known to bring you everything from books to clothes to jewellery that match your specific tastes/preferences

he runs extremely hot, which makes him the ideal snuggle-buddy during the colder months — conversely, during the height of summer you may have to sleep in separate beds or get used to just holding hands because you may very well make yourself overheated and sick from sleeping in his arms

it’s shockingly easy to get him to blush when you flirt with him — which is made all the more amusing (and, arguably, all the more endearing) by the fact that he can easily spend hours at a time singing your praises and showering you in enough compliments to leave your face burning and your heart flipping in your chest

he loves it when you play with his hair, and after a particularly taxing day there’s nothing that soothes him more than being able to lay in your lap and listen to you talk about whatever comes to mind while you gently card your fingers through his wild hair — bonus points if this is followed or preceded by a trip to the nearest hot spring or onsen, but he’s happy with or without it as long as he gets to be close to you like this

kyojuro isn’t someone that really gets jealous (he’s very confident and comfortable in your relationship together, and he trusts you completely), so he won’t ever step into a conversation you’re having or an encounter you’re in unless it’s clear to him that you’re uncomfortable and need an out (or if you explicitly signal as such to him)

he sets aside some time to train with you as often as he can, making sure that you’re at least able to defend yourself should you need to (though, of course, he hopes that day never comes) — it’s nowhere near as intense as the training he puts other demon slayers through, but the drills and exercises are just enough to give you a solid chance of taking down a lower level demon and a guaranteed shot of beating a human assailant

he keeps every gift and letter you give to him and keeps them as safe as he possibly can — and senjuro can always tell when you’ve sent/gifted him something because of just how broadly his big brother smiles (kyojuro is many things, but ‘subtle’ really isn’t one of them…)

its important to him that you get along with his family in one way or another — of course much easier to get along with senjuro (who will be ever so thankful for any help you offer or gifts you give to him… and who adores you simply for making his dear big brother happy) than his father (who is, to say the least, very difficult in just about every sense of the word), but he will be sincerely and loudly appreciative of any efforts to make towards getting to know them regardless of how successful those attempts may be

he strongly believes that his mother, ruka, would have loved you and took you to her shrine in the family estate to ‘introduce’ the two of you

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

I WAS NEVER THERE - PART 2

FIRST CONVERSATION

Summary: Steve returned to the 1940s to find the life he thought he wanted. But desire has its own plans—and he’s found someone who knows exactly how to feed it.

Paring:  Steve Rogers/Reader Steve/Peggy

Warning: 18+ mature dark themes. Smut, Drama, Romance, BitterSweet / Possessive / Obsessive behaviour, Cheating.

STORY MASTERLIST

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact. 

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Steal my writing or the writing of others and karma will get ya.

You're good at hiding your emotions.

Your father always said it was a strength, something that set you apart. He taught you from a young age that showing too much emotion was as good as surrendering—that real control was the ability to stay calm when others couldn't.

"The world's full of people who wear their hearts on their sleeves," he'd say, his voice steady and detached, mirroring his personality. "Don't be one of them."

So you learned to keep your face neutral, your movements contained, to never let anyone see what might unsettle you. In rooms like this, where some of the brightest minds in the world gather, every glance and gesture carries weight. You know how to keep yourself level-headed and unreadable, as though nothing could shake you.

But tonight—just one month after that first dinner with Steve��your composure is slipping. The penthouse hums with the low thrum of voices, the same people spinning through familiar cycles of conversation. The air is thick with practiced smiles and thinly veiled gossip, a parade of familiarity that would almost feel comforting if it weren’t so stifling.

As you scan the room, it takes effort to keep your gaze from lingering on him for too long.

You sip from your glass, forcing yourself to act as though you’re just as invested in the evening as everyone else here.

Nancy, across the room, is already the center of attention, her laughter bubbling over exaggerated stories, while Peggy glides through the party like an effortless beacon, all grace and charm. It’s a scene you’ve witnessed countless times, nothing here should feel unusual.

But tonight, it does.

Steve stands beside Peggy, the very image of loyalty and composure, but something is off.

His gaze shifts through the room, his focus finding you each time, resting on you for just a beat too long—a quiet intensity that makes it harder to breathe, harder to maintain the ease you’ve so carefully cultivated.

You know he shouldn’t be looking at you like that. And he knows it, too.

Your pulse quickens and though you keep your focus on the nearest conversation, your thoughts are drawn back to him, to that piercing gaze.

It’s unnerving, this silent exchange, hidden beneath a polite façade that no one else notices. And it’s that very danger- the thrill of being seen without words, that makes it impossible to look away.

Feeling the tension getting the better of you, you decide you needed an escape, slipping through the crowd and into the kitchen.

You're relieved to find the room empty. The gentle clink of the door closing behind you the only sounds. For a brief moment, you savor the silence.

Leaning against the counter you pick up a wine glass and place it in front of you followed by a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. Taking a steadying breath, you begin to pour yourself a generous amount.

But the silence is short-lived. You barely have a moment to gather yourself before the door swings open, and there he is- Steve, stepping into the kitchen as if he’d been waiting for this moment all night.

“Taking a break from all the excitement?” His voice cuts through the stillness.

You set the bottle back on the counter, forcing yourself to stay calm. “Just needed some air.”

“Funny,” he says, each step closer, unhurried and deliberate. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

You feign a casual shrug. “.I’m not sure we know each other well enough for that to be the case.”

He chuckles, the sound soft and unsettling, as his eyes glint in the dim light. “Don’t we?” He leans against the counter, his arm brushing yours, far too close for it to feel accidental.

The weight of his presence has you instinctively pulling back, but Steve simply pours himself a drink.

“It’s rare to meet someone like you... at these things,” he says, taking a slow sip.

“I could say the same,” you reply cautiously, your voice almost betraying you. “Not every day you come across someone who's been to the future, no crystal ball required."

He laughs quietly. “True,” he says, “very true.” His gaze never wavers, as if he’s seeing straight through you.

"Still,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again, “You surprise me. Most people don’t.”

Your pulse quickens as silence swells between you, heavy and charged. You shrug, looking away. “Well,” you say lightly, “you’d be disappointed soon enough, I’m sure.”

His eyes narrow, studying you with a faint, knowing smile. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

A faint sound from the dining room breaks the moment, reminding you of the room beyond. You glance toward it instinctively, feeling a brief surge of relief. He notices and his mouth tilts into a quiet smile, amused.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asks softly.

“No.” You shake your head, a touch of defiance in your voice as you look up at him. You refused to let him see you rattled.

“No?” he repeats, echoing your tone, as he steps closer, his presence towering, overwhelming.

“No…” The word leaves you as a breath, almost caught in your throat as you stared up into mesmerising blue eyes.

“Good,” he says, his smile widening. “That’s good to know.” He sets down his empty glass with deliberate slowness, and the soft clink of it hitting the counter seems to echo. “I’d hate to think I was making you nervous.”

Before you can respond, the kitchen door swings open. Steve steps away just as Nancy walks in, her eyes widening slightly as she sees you both, alone.

“Oh- am I interrupting something?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

“No, of course not.” you say quickly, offering her a tight smile. “In fact, Steve was just leaving.”

Steve glances between you and Nancy, his expression cool and unreadable, as though he anticipated this exact moment.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, without another word, he slips through the door, leaving a chill in his wake.

Nancy watches him go, raising an eyebrow as she looks back at you. “What was that?”

You force a smile, shaking your head as you study the half-empty glass in your hand. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Part 3 coming soon. Thanks for reading xoxo

[starleska]

Rolando x Reader headcanons? You know you want to 😤

oh my god YESSSSSSS i would be delighted!!! 🙈🙈💖💖💖 warning, this one is a teensy bit NSFW, of the 'Rolando would quite like to devour you, mind and body' variety 😉 tws for canon-compliant fearmongering, fearplay, invasive behaviour, mild body horror and and general monsterfucking 👀 (i mean, y'all saw the episode, you know what you're in for-)

Rolando x Human!Reader headcanons 🐟💖

🐟 the people who darken the door of the One Star Wonder are always at the end of their tether, and Rolando wouldn't have it any other way. each one is more pathetic than the last: delicious morsels dripping with depression, anxiety and jealousy, and their bubble-headed selves all caught up in their oh-so-human concerns. Rolando greets each one with the same greasy charm, yet he makes sure to flavour his guests with just one too many inhuman gaffes. an incorrect turn of phrase here, a flash of too many teeth there, and before long, he has successfully unsettled his meat. so the night You step over the threshold and greet him with a warm, unknowing smile, he grinned right back, sure of a particularly tasty meal.

🐟 "Well, aren't you a precious little thing!" Rolando cooed, working in a lascivious gaze in the hopes of making You squirm. You stammered out a flustered thanks, and asked him if he had a room for the night. Rolando was dizzy; he could smell the indecision on You like pheromones, those little top notes of apprehension and fear, and it was all he could do to not clamber into your brain right then and there. "I've got just the room for you, dear, right at the back. And don't let anyone here give you shit under my watch. How abouts I escort you there myself? I'd hate for some filthy pervert to gobble you up along the way." before You could protest Rolando slipped around the desk, pressed a spindly claw into the small of your back and ushered You down a damp, ill-lit hallway.

🐟 as he guided You under the broken lights, Rolando's piscine gaze drank in the contours of your form. he'd played carnal games with humans before—desperate creatures that they were, their strangled whines as pleasure bled into pain never failed to amuse him. yet he'd never been so struck by the beauty of your kind. "So, what brings you to my malign establishment?" Rolando asked, as he carded his fingers through your hair. You shivered, but didn't pull away...a response which confused Rolando, but gave his Infestor heart a quiet thrill. You told him that you'd been kicked out of your home, and electricity shot down his back. he couldn't wait any longer. "Poor love...how could anyone be so cruel? Don't you worry your pretty little head. Tonight...you're all mine." 🐟 the few remaining lights in the hallway burst, and Rolando slipped into the blackness. You cried out in confusion as something cold and wet seized around your ankle and yanked You to the floor. chilling laughter echoed around the hallway, where it reverberated off impossible dimensions, like the hotel had yawned open to swallow You. "Oh, aren't you a hoot?" Rolando cackled. "Such fear...such excitement...what a delectable combination." Rolando's yellow-green eyes flashed in the dark, and the deathly edges of his teeth glimmered with saliva. You tried to run, but he dissolved into the dark and snatched at your shadow, tripping you with ease. Rolando's inky, gelatinous form drooled up your side and pinned You to the floor by the wrists, neck, and ankles.

🐟 "Running ain't the smartest move, sweetheart..." Rolando hissed, "...but boy, is it fun!" his monstrous tongue curled around your earlobe and invaded the delicate flesh of your ear itself, lapping in a way far too wet and obscene. You curled in on yourself, trying to make yourself small enough to escape, but Rolando's invertebrate form slipped between your joints and stretched out your limbs until it hurt. one dirty yellow light flickered into life above You and illuminated Rolando's sickly smirk. "Golly," said Rolando, putting his head on one side. "By now, normally I've got 'em screaming and wailing...but save a few sweet little sounds, you're quiet as a mouse." he wrapped himself around your face and breathed a blasphemy against your lips: "If I didn't know better...I'd say you're rather enjoying this." 🐟 a litany of protests tumbled from your mouth, but all they did was make Rolando laugh harder. "Don't deny it, sugar! I see everything tucked up inside that nasty little brain of yours...and fear ain't winning this race, honey." a nail as sharp as a blade tucked itself under your chin, and curled, tilting your face up to his. in the dark, Rolando's smile gleamed with bad intentions. "Tell you what...how about we play a game? You try to keep those lovely lips of yours shut..." a slight sting, and Rolando draws back his claw to admire a rivulet of blood. "...and I see how long it takes to make you scream."

[borgqueens]

This is an important question that isn’t discussed enough on radblr imo. Long post ahead:

I recently read a book called Before War (2023) by Elisha Daeva, which is about how patriarchy originated in prehistory. It brings up the Mosuo and other societies as an example of how patriarchy isn’t universal or innate. This is the author’s suggestion for adapting that kind of family structure for our modern, globalized, industrialized society:

[...]

[...]

[...]

(I've elided some paragraphs about tantric sex, joyful birth rituals, livestreamed amateur porn...this is definitely not a book about radical feminist/lesbian/separatist politics. There’s a lot of “I love men, don’t blame men, blame toxic masculinity.” Some of the assertions seemed pretty far-fetched and it veers into woo pretty often, but I thought the parts where the author stuck to the facts were edifying.)

The problem I see with this “finding a clan or community” idea is it’s easier said than done. There are tons of posts and articles out there about how hard it is to find and/or maintain friendships and social connections as an adult. People are so isolated from each other; do most of us really have enough people who we can trust fully, with whom we can form a community and intertwine our lives as closely as described above?

I feel like capitalism and income inequality are a huge obstacle to any kind of restructuring of society. As long as we're fighting for limited resources, our interactions and connections with each other will be motivated by personal gain instead of what's best for the community or humanity overall.

This is what Daeva has to say about equal resource distribution:

[...]

[...]

Meanwhile, in The Creation of Patriarchy (1986), Gerda Lerner's take on p. 228 is basically the shrug emoji:

The system of patriarchy is a historic construct; it has a beginning; it will have an end. Its time seems to have nearly run its course—it no longer serves the needs of men or women and in its inextricable linkage to militarism, hierarchy, and racism it threatens the very existence of life on earth. What will come after, what kind of structure will be the foundation for alternate forms of social organization we cannot yet know. We are living in an age of unprecedented transformation. We are in the process of becoming.

And here's Shulamith Firestone's take from p.11 of The Dialectic of Sex (1970):

I thought Herland (1915) had some good ideas too (apart from the racism) but that society had the very important difference of being male-free, and also the book was written more than 100 years ago and things have changed a lot since then.

My personal, and totally non-expert, take is: to arrive at the “correct” answer to this question requires an answer to the nature vs nurture question. We know men commit more than 90% of violent crimes and are responsible for every war ever, and most men, even the "good ones", harbor violent rape fantasies that they would turn into rape realities if they could get away with it.

Are men like that because of socialization, or are they naturally violent, aggressive, predisposed to dominating behavior? If it turns out it’s nature, then men can’t be allowed to occupy leadership positions in any society where women are free, because if they have power, they’ll abuse it. Maybe men can’t be allowed in society at all because they’ll eventually start the cycle of violence and domination all over again. Maybe we stop birthing male babies and make do with sperm bank reserves for a few generations until we figure out human parthenogenesis. OK, now I'm going off on a utopian sci-fi tangent. But yeah, unpopular opinion but there it is: maybe women can only be free when men no longer exist.

Getting back to reality, other miscellaneous thoughts:

abolition of gender

abolition of organized religion

abolition of porn and prostitution

socialism, free or cheap education/healthcare/housing etc so no woman is forced into the sex industry or surrogacy

I know it’s odd to say, but we can’t really talk about how to liberate women until we know what a society where women are free looks like.   Like, you can’t know how to get there until you know where there is. 

and this is something lacking in all feminist writing i’ve read so far.  there’s an assumption that we all know what it is we’re working toward.   But it’s never defined or fleshed out.   I mean, most feminist writing don’t even explicitly state that we are working towards the emancipation of women, the liberation of  women.   And this is partly why we’ve fallen into the weaksauce concept of ‘equality’ with men.   

so, to know how to get there, we’ve gotta talk about what ‘there’ is.   What does the emancipation of women look like?  how does that affect the social organization?  the economic sphere?  the organization of labor?  the organizaiton of land?   

if the family unit is the instrument of the oppression of women, then what is the basic economic/social unit?  is it the neoliberal view of every man for himself?  is it the collectivist view of small communes with shared finances?   What economic/social model exactly best facilitates the freedom of women?  This needs to be broadly understood, so we know what the goal is, so we know how to best work towards it. 

[griddleharkbrainrot]

I love movie Charles Xavier, but comic Charles should NOT have been allowed in charge of students. Anyway, I have a LOT of thoughts about Charles as a parent who is trying his best but he does not know how to raise a kid. So here are my thoughts on what was going through his mind when he made the decisions he did.

They put you in charge of children. There are so many of them with tiny little faces and impressionable little minds and it is your job to protect them. To teach them how to protect themselves. The world hates them, wants to crush them just for existing and it’s your job to be their shield until they can be their own sword. You are one man and there are so many of them. 

There used to be Erik. It was supposed to be the two of you together, him on the offensive while you protected the homefront. A team working together so that your kind could be safe, but Erik left and now it is just you. 

You do not know how to be a parent. When they come to you with skinned knees and hurt feelings, are you supposed to soothe their aches or teach them how to face them? Thinking back to your own parents, you only remember being tossed aside and told to deal with it. What are you supposed to do? You decide that the world will be cruel and so you should teach them how to face the pain head on and keep going. You decide it is time to teach them how to fight. Later they will tell you this is a mistake. Your children will never forgive you from turning from their father to their drill sergeant. This is the day you go from a family to an army joining the war. They are too young for this conflict.

Little Jean does not know how to deal with the voices in her head. There are so many and they ricochet and clash against her thoughts. Something in your heart aches for this young girl and the familiar pain but you do not have time to address it. You teach her how to build up the wall in her mind, how to block the others out. You tell her all you have learned of how others will distrust her for her power, how she must be careful so she is not hated. You do not notice the tears forming in her eyes or the little arms reaching out for a hug. You have already turned away to address the next crisis. There is only one of you and so many children.

You don’t know when Scott started calling you Proffesor instead of Dad. When he stopped coming to you with his nightmares and headaches. You tried everything you could to help him but it wasn’t enough. Children need reassurance, clear affection and love, something you’ve never really been able to express. How do you tell them that you are proud of all they have accomplished? You give Scott command of the team, trying to communicate how you believe he can do this, how strong he is. You do not see his shoulders droop as another responsibility rests on them. He is a child and he is a soldier and he must protect his people. He weilds himself like a shield not caring for his own safety in an attempt to make you proud. He does not know that you already are.

Erik has children now. Two little girls and a boy, all mutants. They follow him like ducklings, showing off for their father and squabbling with each other. You think fondly back to the days when your little ones would trail after your wheelchair, all clambering for your attention. When did they stop? Your children have grown from tiny breakable little things into battle hardened soldiers. The whole world looks to them as the face of mutant kind. They can not take a step out of line or mutants everywhere will face the consequences of humanity’s fickle temper. It was not supposed to be this way. They were supposed to be children and the adults would protect them. What changed?

You know what changed. Erik left and you broke. You do not know how to be a father, how to do this alone. You are a teacher and you have learned how to be a general, how to be a politician, wielding people like chess pieces in a greater game. But somewhere along the way you lost sight; for these are not pawns, they are your wards, your students, your sons and daughters. They return from their missions weary and injured, something in their spirits breaking. 

You were given children and raised soldiers. You are Charles Xavier: teacher, politician, activist, and general, but you have not earned the title of father.

[mycielkim]

Solus - "The Endless"

Brief Intoduction page for one of my characters, Solus!

He's an ancient entity called "Kazhars." The first of his kind, actually. He was born when the universe was created.

Solus was just a thought at first, then he became the endless void of nothingness in space. For millenia, he stayed that way, aimlessly wandering the universe while his peers did their own thing. The boredom drove him mad with rage, and from that rage came the first spark of energy in space.

He was no longer 'nothing', he was now the beginning of everything.

The first molecule, dust, rock, mineral, planet and human, ... were all his creations. Finally, he was no longer bored, now there's so many things for him to both create and explore.

You were his first human, someone he should have left alone to thrive on your own. But he just couldn't bear to see you past away. You were his magnum opus, his best creation yet. He made you immortal and took you with him after your time on Earth ended. Together, you two traveled the universe in search of new excitement and enjoy each other's company.

-----

Personality wise, he's not the most responsible Kazhar out there. He creates things on a whim and enjoy throwing them into crazy scenarios to see how the creation would react. Even though humans were the first intelligent lifeform he made, he soon started experimenting with different monster creations and went a little overbroad... luckily, you're always there to make sure he doesn't accidentally create a monstrosity that would destroy a part of the galaxy.

But at his core, he's a playful and loving higher being. He has endless sympathy and is the most compassionate out of the 4 Primodial Ones (the first generation of Kazhars). He's a little clumsy at times and has a love for vibrant, explosive things.

[rea-grimm]

Weapon Diavolo

Diavolo, heir to the throne and one of the most powerful weapons in the world. It was one of those weapons whose Masters were the Reapers themselves. 

Like Barbatos, you were in his service. You were his bodyguard and his best friend. That was because his parents assigned you to him at nursery age. 

Ever since the mark appeared on your wrist and he had perfected his mastery of his weapon form, he had been searching for his true Master. He wanted to find him before he took the throne. 

After a long failure to find his master, Diavolo decided to take a drastic solution. He decided to hold a giant ball with a banquet to which he intended to invite all scythes without masters and all masters with the scythe mark. He didn't just want to help himself, he wanted to help others. 

That was one of the few things you liked about him. He always thought of others, even when you reminded him to be a little selfish. 

Diavalo wanted you to attend the ball as guest of honor and enjoy it to the fullest, but you refused. You had a duty to be his guard. Besides, you had a hunch he might be your weapon. 

From the moment the mark of the weapon appeared on your hand, you covered it up. It was the mark of the scythe. Sure, it could have been anyone who was a scythe weapon, but you were very close to the prince. So close that at times you were tuned in to the same wave, you understood each other perfectly, you complemented each other. 

The ball went well and many new pairs of allied masters and weapons were born. Diavolo sat on the throne and tried one master after another. You could see it was gnawing at him. He really wanted to find his true master. However, despite this, he tried to look cheerful and enjoy the festivities as much as he could. 

You stood by his side so as not to get in the way, and you oversaw the entire event. Everything went smoothly. Music, laughter and general good cheer wafted through the room. Barbatos made sure there was plenty of everything and nothing was missing. 

Once the ball was over, Diavolo bade everyone farewell, collapsing wearily into his throne. He didn't understand how he hadn't found his scythe yet. He even complained to Lucifer. Barbatos tried to calm him down when the prince looked at you. 

"Y/N, what kind of weapon sign do you even have?" He asked you, since you barely talked about it in front of him and he had no recollection of what kind of weapon you were supposed to wield. 

"I have a slashing weapon," you replied. He didn't want to tell him that you had a scythe mark on your arm. Diavolo looked at you and saw clearly that you hadn't told him the whole truth. 

Before you knew it, he took your hand and pulled you down to his throne so that you were now sitting on his lap. He held you around the waist with one hand while with the other he removed the wrist guard that covered your tattoo. 

"I knew it!" He rejoiced when he saw your mark. Before you could say anything in response, he turned into a weapon and landed in your hands, leaving you with no choice but to grab him. 

As he did so, a strange, pleasant feeling passed through you, as if your soul was finally whole. A light enveloped you, and when it dissipated you were dressed in a suit that clearly depicted Diavolo.

The prince then changed back, all excited that he had found his true master after all. And he was even more thrilled that the master was you. When he saw your expression, however, he wasn't entirely sure you felt the same way. 

"You're not happy?" He asked, concern and slight disappointment in his voice. Despite that, he tried to be positive. 

"I... it's not fitting for a guard... someone like me..." you began. You were going to say that it wasn't fitting for a royal weapon to have a commoner as its master. 

"Stop. Wait. Don't talk about this at all. It doesn't matter at all. What matters is that you are my true master and I am your weapon," he jumped in. 

You wanted to say something back, but you were at a loss for words. And to make it even harder for you, Diavolo took you gently by the chin and kissed you. In that moment, it was as if everything else melted away. It was as if your souls were connected. 

"I know you're as happy as I am," he said as he pulled away and stroked your cheek. You had no idea how he did it, but you could never refuse him. You always had a soft spot for him. "How about you give us both a chance. I'm sure it will be worth it," he added gently. 

You merely nodded your head in agreement and you felt your cheeks flush after the kiss and you felt like your ears were on fire too. It was true that you were glad that he was your weapon, though part of you was still afraid of what others would say.

Obey me! Masterlist

[evenmoreofadisaster]

Hi, it's me again, I left a note in my reply, but now I have another question or request<3 Can you tell us a little bit more about Kendrtwollo? Like how did those two meet? What kind of dynamic and relationship do they have? How does it evolve until it becomes romantic? And what is their dynamic or relationship like when it's romantic? How does his family (Especially One) react to their relationship? (Please tell me he becomes jealous and overprotective XD) While we're at it, how does the rest of the family react to One and Usagi's relationship? (I already read the post about how Two reacts, and I love it<3) And anything else you can tell us about Mikey's future daughter? Having said all that, if there are things you can't tell because of spoilers or because it's not fully planned yet and you'll change it in the future, I'll understand, thank you very much for your time<3

Lol, yes! Response is under the cut bc it's a bit long lmao

This is a minor spoiler for s2 chatper 3, but Kendra and Two actually meet off-screen, when Two enrolls in April's school as Donnie. He joins the purple dragons before moving into April's class. By chapter 3, Donnie is no longer associated with the purple dragons and knows Kendra's just as deceiving as One.

I imagine Kendra and Two's relationship is kind of like enemies to lovers, but they never quite reach the lovers stage. They're kind of like in an endless game of cat and mouse, where Kendra gives Two the attention or validation he needs, then uses his tech (either with or without his permission, depending on what her angle is). She plays him. Two knows this, and, depending on how Two is feeling depends on whether or not he lets Kendra get away with it.

I don't think they'd ever be lovey-dovey or have an official relationship, but Kendra genuinely thinks that Two is a genius which is probably why Two goes back to her. I wouldn't say they develop 'feelings' for each other, but I’d more of an unhealthy attachment.

I don't think Raph and Mikey would know the full extent of Two and Kendra's relationship, but they're not big fans of her. She's thrown Two under the bus and has gone under his nose to steal from him, which they don't appreciate. One KNOWS. He knows Kendra is a bad influence-- this is how Two got into vaping-- he knows Kendra is using Two for his tech and he doesn't like it. I don't think there's anything for One to be jealous of-- since this would most likely happen in the time One goes to Japan with Usagi (post movie arc), therefore isn't around often enough to be jealous-- but One does get super overprotective.

My version of Kendra does kickboxing, so she can beat Two in hand-to-hand. Against One, though, she'd die without her tech.

For One and Usagi's relationship, everyone is pretty much chill with Usagi except for Two and Raph (at first). Raph knows that Usagi is unpredictable and dangerous, so he's definitely on the fence when One hangs out with him post s2. When Raph sees how One can handle Usagi going nuts (more info about that here) and how he calms him down, Raph knows that there's nothing to worry about. Usagi frustrates Raph sometimes, but not any more than his brothers do. They get along. This drives Two insane. Mikey, generally, is just happy that One can be happy and himself around Usagi. You can read about Draxum's thoughts here.

Yes! So far, I'm thinking that Mikey's adopted kid will be EMD's version of Renet. Mikey finds her as he travels the world to help people in need. The details are still fuzzy, but the idea rn is that Renet lost both her parents. Her mother was the apprentice of a time lord, who's either exiled or imprisoned. The mother stole the time scepter that is now in Renet's possession. Renet has no idea what it is or why people are after it, until Mikey finds her and helps.

[wenellyb]

re: last two anons + responses on the chemistry being off/Buck & Tommy not kissing enough. You make some valid points, particularly that they are held to a different standard than the other couples. However, have you considered that the main issue is less about people being fetishizers and more that they are viewing the show through fic goggles? Even if you take out the really racy stuff, fics tend to place a greater focus on the soft and domestic moments that happen in between episodes. More importantly, fics tend to be written by and for a younger audience (under 20 crowd) who have a very different view on relationships and chemistry which is the main reason characters in fics tend to only have a passing resemblance to their characters on the show. In contrast, we have a show written by and for an adult audience with a showrunner in his 60s. Not sure how old you are but trust me when I say that by the time you hit 30, your love language is your partner doing the dishes without being asked. A quick look at social media where the audience tends to be older is enough to see that the general sentiment is that Buck and Tommy are a super cute couple and people feel the chemistry. Leaning into each, little touches (like the coffee cup), and showing up for each other goes a long way for visual storytelling. They will kiss or have a passionate make out session at some point but only when it is relevant to the story which is consistent with how things happen with the other couples. I guess my point is the problem has less to do with people simply wanting to see two guys kiss and more that certain people forget they are watching 9-1-1 while expecting to see Heartstopper or Young Royals.

Hi!!!! Good point, I think you're right about the fic goggles.

And the last part is exactly my point: this is 911 not Young Royals and Heartstopper. Thank you for your input!

[lovely-p-issues]

Okay, you've made me realise that I misspoke in my previous response (and I used italics incorrectly lmao)

I'll start with the most important one - yes, I do think that until the very end Ody saw Eurylochus as his friend (as you wrote, he literally appears as a ghost alongside his mum and Polites)

However. I think this relationship was incredibly damaged by everything that happened, and these most important relationships have a way of being strengthened by tragedies. That's why, despite all my love for this character, after everything he and Ody did to each other, I could never vote for him

But I just need to address your really good points and how I look at it

sacrificing the crew

Yes, my mistake, abandoning the crew on the island of Kirke could be called reasonable - I meant rather to point out that sacrificing six men was also essentially the best tactic for survival, in a situation where you are in the middle of nowhere, chased by a god of sea and have to sail somewhere (but surely there is something much darker about deliberately choosing the death of six men than refusing to save them, even if it was ultimately to reduce the bloodshed associated with pointless battle)

(just to be clear, none of these decisions lie with my general view on the world, they are simply comparable in my eyes)

My point was rather that, of all people, Eurylochus could understand Odysseus - he himself was prepared to do something very similar, yet he completely ignored it and started a mutiny (I wonder now if the crew ever found out that Eurylochus had refused to save them…)

Nor does Eurylochus ever deny this plea by Odysseus in Mutiny:

Don't make me fight you, brother, you know you'd have done the same If you want all the power, you must carry all the blame

I interpret this as Eurylochus saying "that's true, but at the end of the day it was you who made that decision, so we can blame you for this"

while we're on Mutiny….

I just remembered how annoyed I was that the moment the crew, headed by Eurylochus, realised how badly they had screwed up, they immediately turn to Odysseus. Odysseus, whom they had just removed from power, thinking they knew better.

In a normal situation, I wouldn't put up with telling a person close to me very clearly ‘don't do that, there will be consequences’, but when it actually happens, they look at me, expecting me to somehow solve the problem

Eurylochus's advice

Did Odysseus need a man who could pull him down to earth? Absolutely.

The problem is that Eurylochus does it in public, in front of the entire crew, not only trying to talk sense into Odysseus, but sowing doubt among the crew.

When Ody pulls him aside at the end of Luck Runs Out this is practically the first thing he points out to him. A captain making a mistake is a terrible thing, but a crew left to their own devices…. well, Mutiny showed that, despite his flaws, Odysseus made better decisions most of the time (motivated by a desire to get home) than they did, focused more on the present moment, hunger and fatigue.

But even putting tactics aside - I think the friends know best that a public confrontation is not the best idea. While we obviously don't know how Odysseus would have reacted to a private conversation with Eurylochus - it seems to me personally that at least he could have focused on what was being said to him, rather than making sure his men don't fall apart.

I will end here, because we can point those thing for eternity and I didn't even started rating about Odysseus's mistakes as a friend-

I just don't think Eury was a really good friend in general. He was a decent man, he was trying his best, he was obviously tired and broken, but looking from perspetive of the first question, he just... doesn't stand a chance

And I still love him tho.

(i will probably get through every character in survey when it's finished lmao)

(i regret setting seven days instead of one for this)

[elerrinacrownedwithstars]

The idea that only Ulmo or Nienna care about Middle-earth and do anything to help Eruhini is a strange misconception because Tolkien pretty clearly shows that at least Manwë is watching very closely what's going on and sometimes even interferes? It's just that the Valar mostly seem to work through the elements they represent, which if you think about it is pretty neat.

Like there are various instances where the wind acts up suddenly, causing storms or rising in just the right moment (as in ROTK, clearing the air for the Rohirrim and speeding Aragorn's journey as he sails for Minas Tirith)

And even more obviously, the Eagles. Tolkien specifically says that the Eagles are Manwë's advocates in Middle-earth, providing miraculous aid when all else fails. Without the Eagles, Beren and Lúthien's quest would have failed and Huor would not have got to Gondolin (which then would have prevented Eärendil's success or even meant he was never born). They give crucial aid to Gandalf more than once. The Eagles also help Fingon to save Maedhros, because Manwë "would not wholly abandon the Noldor". Tolkien recognises that the Eagles are "deus ex machina", and in this case, the meaning is quite literal.

Then there are the Istari, envoys of the Valar: while there is proof of only Gandalf's success, even just the efforts of one of the Wizards was enough to bring down Sauron.

As for Ulmo, you could argue that he is responsible for the whole Eärendil and Elwing arc - and that it was a job between him and Manwë. It's Manwë's Eagles that bring Huor to Gondolin, and Ulmo later sends Huor's son Tuor into the hidden city. Tuor and Eärendil both get sea-longing in their hearts. During the flight of the survivors of Gondolin, Eagles are again present and bring up the body of Glorfindel, making you wonder whether they would have interfered more in the Balrog fight if Glorfindel had not stepped up to protect the refugees - and Eärendil, the fated saviour of Middle-earth. Also, Ulmo rescues Elwing when she casts herself into the sea, turning her into a bird so that she can fly to find Eärendil. Water and air and birds keep showing up in the stories of Eärendil and Elwing and if that's not proof of Manwë and Ulmo's plotting, I don't know what is. I mean, it's even said in the first pages of the Silmarillion that they are fast friends and closely allied from the beginning! Eärendil becoming a star also in a weird way even combines the elements of Ulmo, Manwë, and Varda: bearing the Silmaril, Eärendil sails an immortal ship in the sea of heaven and stars, forever as a sign of hope to the Children of Ilúvatar.

What about the other Valar? If we keep in mind that they chiefly work through the elements they represent, their abilities to interfere are limited (and this is a self-imposed limitation clearly). Yavanna's creation of the Ents proves to be a pretty great one in The Two Towers, although you can argue to what degree she is influencing the events. More obviously In Shelob's lair, Sam calls for Varda, and the light of the phial of Galadriel comes alive in his hand and smites the great spider, helping Sam to defeat the monster. Also, during Sam and Frodo's desperate march through the hellscape that is Mordor, Sam yearns for a little bit of light and water to hearten him - and lo and behold, he gets these exact things as if Varda and Ulmo personally delivered.

In other words, the Valar are a lot more active in Middle-earth than they get credit for, and they work in subtle and indirect ways because only then can they make sure they don't accidentally kill a lot of the Children.

[lilithofpenandbook]

Sometimes Severus comes up to Minerva. Right up behind her when she's busy. He'll stand there for a good minute as she works on marking assignments and cursing the boy's youthful energy and brilliant eyes- both of which directly responsible for his finishing his work in half the time it takes her.

"What is it, Severus?" Minerva sighs. Might as well get the obligatory nonsense over and done with, she was due a dose of Severus's antics by now (Merlin forbid he go more than three days without bothering her with nonsensical questions or infuriating wit).

"Am I ugly, Minerva?" he asked. Never there was a being with such innocence in their voice.

Minerva took a moment to take in a breath and silently call on all her patience and all her strength. "Yes, very." Her tone was blunter than the knives used to decorate at Halloween- an incident with some particularly idiotic third years had them ban anything sharper than the corners of a book during the Halloween celebrations.

Severus gasped as if stabbed. "What? Minerva, I thought we were friends!"

Minerva snorted. "Any time we interact, it's completely against my will."

"Minerva! you lie so shamelessly it shocks me." Severus made as if to swoon, a hand clutching the right of his chest.

"You must be shocked; your heart isn't where it should be."

Honestly, Minerva had to admire the fact that the insolent little kitten did not falter in his dramatics with her pointing out the key flaw in his act. If anything, he seemed to be encouraged.

"Ay! The pain of the shock, it has spread throughout my chest! Ah, I cannot breathe!" Severus swayed on his feet, leaning against the chair that Minerva was sitting in. "Oh, how your lie shocks me!"

"Well, then, you had better tell me what exactly I lied about," Minerva said briskly, "before you gasp all the air out of your skinny little lungs, laddie."

"You said," the boy said, a sudden glint in his eye and none of the apparent weakness, standing to face her and one of those long, delicate fingers pointed straight at her, "you said, that our interactions are without your will."

"That is no lie, what part of this looks like it's my will?" Minerva replied, knowing full well she wasn't going to appreciate the cheeky answer Severus had prepared for her.

"Why, the part where you remain for my company, mother," Severus replied, his voice light. "Surely, if you didn't want this, you would have, in your infinite wisdom, simply have employed your great power and assumed your famous feline form and just walked away from me."

Minerva fought her smile. His cheek was infuriating while his logic impeccable. "Perhaps I am simply conversing my energy, you arrogant wee rascal."

"You? Too lazy to avoid a nuisance?" Severus scoffed. "Minerva, you wound me. Don't you know how I know you? You've done much more to avoid the mildest of annoyances, do you truly think I believe that you are here against your will merely to converse your energy?"

Minerva let him see the flicker of a smile disgusted as a smirk, letting the bothersome raven have a little treat for his cleverness, hinting to him that he had essentially won this particular argument. "At my age you no longer have the patience to waste on annoyances. You learn to value your peace. You will understand that some day, I hope, little one."

"And if I die, my hair still black and my skin still smooth?"

Merlin, did the child have a turn towards the morbid. Minerva ignored the voice in her that told her that this would have been a retort of her own had she been in a similar conversation.

"Then you'll die a fool."

"A fool, perhaps, but my funeral will be the biggest," he replied, moving to sit on her desk and grabbing the biscuit jar. Minerva intercepted, lifting it from his grip and replacing it with a towel. His protests died in his confusion at the towel, and Minerva huffed and began to wipe his hands as if he was a child. She did not trust him to correctly clean his hands after handling goodness knows what when experimenting with his potions and she didn't care if he knew it.

"Aye, and how did you figure that?" she asked.

"Surely if I die young, I shall be the first. Therefore you all will be part of the funeral-"

"What makes you think I would want to attend your funeral, you little rascal?" She let go of his hands, almost satisfied that they weren't contaminated.

Severus ignored her and instead took a biscuit from the jar. "You will all be there, therefore I will have the biggest funeral. If I die old, you all shall be gone, so my funeral will be the smallest."

Minerva tried not to think of how depressing that sounded, how lonely it seemed. For a brief moment she felt guilty for being so old and he so young. She involuntarily could see him in her mind's eye, going through their funerals until he stood alone. She and the others- Rolanda, Pomona, Poppy, even Fillus and Hagrid- they were all of an age, weren't they? They could expect their lives to reach the end around the same time, surely? Severus was but a child next to them, he'd stand alone one day.

Minerva tried to ignore the ache in her chest at the thought of him standing alone. Merlin, no. He was far too young. No.

"You truly are besotted with the morbid and the miserable, you melanchonic masochist," she said, her tone just a trifle too sharp to be a simple retort.

Severus paused, swallowing the biscuit. Then he answered. "Ah, but the morbid is much more fascinating, the forbidden has a certain thrill, dear mother." His voice was a little softer, and his fingers, slightly coated in crumbs, were gentle when he tapped her forehead. He was sorry he upset her.

"You and your thrills," Minerva scolded, "yet you cannot even eat a biscuit without making a mess of yourself." Yet even as she spoke, the hand that she used to swipe the crumbs away, was gentle, almost tender, in its movement. She had quite forgiven him.

How could she remain angry? At this boy who looked at her with a scowl of indignation yet whose deep, dark eyes twinkled with mischief and cleverness and brilliance, who stood taller than her, yes, yet was far more delicate in his build than she had ever been, whose hair was as dark as hers had been in her youth, carelessly falling across his forehead. No, she could not remain angry.

If only he had been in Gryffindor, perhaps then she would have noticed him sooner. Or rather, if only her eyes didn't only open for her Gryffindors. How this boy could ever look at her without resentment and anger, she didn't know. Then again, he had been so incredibly isolated and lonely, was it any wonder he let go of his rightful grudges and instead accepted her friendship?

Minerva blinked as if soot from the fireplace got in her eyes. She didn't want him to notice the tears that almost inevitably formed whenever she thought about him. Who would have thought that she'd cry so much for the little devil?

"I'll leave you to your work, dear mother," Severus said cheerfully, hopping off her desk.

"Aye, after you've cleared out my biscuit jar, you villain" Minerva grumbled, looking into the empty jar. Severus shrugged.

"You ought to see it as a compliment towards your taste, really," Severus said. "But I see I have taken the last of your patience"- for indeed, Minerva looked ready to strangle him- "so I shall take my leave. Good night, my good Headmistress, and may you have peace in the silver embrace of the moon!"

And with a laughing twinkle in his eye and a boyish bow, Severus Snape left the room.

Minerva sighed. She wasn't sure if it was out of relief, or because she may have felt some sorrow at his departure.

The door opened again, and a rather meek Severus poked his head in.

"Er, Minerva?" he asked.

"Yes, Severus?"

"Er." Severus stepped in, looking away from her, walking with the awkward gait of a newborn foal, and the nervousness of a deer. "Er, Minerva?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Am I really ugly, mother?" His voice was a whisper. His raven hair curtained his face, hiding his shame at asking such a pathetic question, and his fingers picked at one of the cuticles of a nail.

Minerva smiled, and walked to him. Softly she brushed the boy's hair out of his face and gently tucked it behind his ear.

"Only as long as you let yourself believe it, dear heart."