#in the show he can’t make tea even with a manual but i don’t believe there’s any such scene in the books
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yeah-thats-probably-it · 1 month ago
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Once again tumblr is silencing my voice by not letting me add more than 30 tags. Okay the rest of what I was going to say is that if you gave him an assignment that was simple and out of the way enough, even upstairs, he might be able to stick it out for a couple hours. Another factor that determines how long that might be is where this is happening. Is he at Brinkley Court? Then Aunt Dahlia and the other servants (whom he seems to be on good terms with) will cover for him. No matter what he screws up, “oh, that’s Barry! He’s just new here!” Jeeves might be able to work something similar at a different manor house (presuming Bertie’s face isn’t already known there) if he’s on good terms with any of the servants there. They might agree to take Bertie under their wing as a favor to Jeeves. It also depends on whether Jeeves himself is there to help him, whether they’re working in the same area of the house, and if they’re able to inconspicuously pull each other aside to confer.
In conclusion: can’t answer question, too many variables
#this is tough because i kind of have to add some nuance#regarding the wording of the question itself#the question being asked is not how long he would last before getting found out#it’s how long he would last before saying/doing something inappropriate#the answer to the latter question is ‘within the hour’#because bertie’s model for what a proper servant is supposed to act like is jeeves. and jeeves says and does inappropriate things constantly#jeeves is not normal. he is not passing on good servantly practices. bertie does not understand that his own willingness to listen to#long lectures about pearls and shakespeare is not universal to all employers#however if the implicit question is how long before he’s caught that could vary a lot more depending on a range of factors#first of all as some have already noted i think bertie is smarter than he presents himself as#in the show he can’t make tea even with a manual but i don’t believe there’s any such scene in the books#he often is very vague about the details of jeeves’ valeting activities which could be taken to mean he doesn’t understand them#but could also just be conservation of detail or simply not seeing it as that important#everyone at this time knows what a valet does - we don’t need a detailed word picture about it#bertie has every detail of jeeves’ facial expressions and body language memorized#that speaks to many hours of staring at him and observing him#i believe bertie has spent enough time watching jeeves to grasp the basic theory of much of what he does#he would perform the task of ironing a shirt terribly but he COULD perform it#he understands the basic steps of 1. lay shirt on ironing board 2. pour water into iron 3. plug in iron#(electric steam irons were invented 1926 they could have had one from very good jeeves onwards)#and the end result would be a shirt with creases in all the wrong places that has nevertheless clearly been pressed with an iron#i think he could pass for a BAD servant for at least the better part of a day#as prev said he has better chances downstairs#you could hand him a dirty pot and a scouring pad and some soap and tell him to scrub it#upstairs he’s on very thin ice. again like prev said he has an expressive face and no filter#however i’m going to say that if he REALLY put everything he had into it he might be able to last an hour or two. again because of how much#he’s observed jeeves. if he kept mentally repeating ‘stuffed frog face. stuffed frog face stuffed frog face’ (there is a chance he would#eventually accidentally say this out loud) he could probably do a just plausible enough impression of a very distracted spaced out servant#who probably jumps every time someone speaks to him#if he DOES have to speak he knows a few scripted lines from jeeves but again jeeves is not the best model for talking like a proper servant
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Hi could u possibly do headcanons of the four with an S/O who likes to try their stuff, or use something they often use? So sorry if it’s confusing! I also will be sending another request but do ignore it if you don’t feel like doing two of them! Thank you so much!
I wasn't exactly sure of what you wanted by "things they often use", so I just did a mish mash of stuff. :) Hope that's alright!
An S/O tries out some of the boys' things:
Now, let's be honest, these are big boys we're talking about, and their weapons would just be too large for a person to handle properly. So I'm going with the more unconventional stuff.
Donnie:
• This is a bit out of left field, but I'll go with Donnie's Shellraiser for this one.
• He's super proud of his creation and the amount of time he's put into it is crazy, so obviously, he's going to have you take it for a spin with him
• And he's trusting you not to crash it or do something boneheaded right now because the Shellraiser isn't exactly subtle
• And, well, he finds you in the seat that's made for him, someone big, very cute
• "You know how to drive a manual, right?"
• To be honest he would rather drive YOU around, but he's happy to have fun in the passenger's seat
Raph:
• You decided on Raph's weight bench because he's always on the thing
• Now, to clarify, his gym is not for the faint of heart. Or for human bodies in general, actually, because even his bar alone was too heavy, not to mention the SEVERAL heavy manhole covers acting as plates
• So now he's secretly stressing a little as you try out some of his routine. Helping lift the weight, making sure you're not about to drop it on yourself and crush your face—despite that, he's into it 👀
• "Easy there, can't have ya tearing up your muscles, how are we supposed to arm wrestle then?"
Leo:
• Leo's tea set is his prized possession, beside his katanas that were gifted to him by his father. This was also a gift
• He's well versed in etiquette and believes in doing things the "right" way, so now that he trusts you with his things, expect him to let you host a tea hour with him
• "My dad taught me that a good pot doesn't splash when you pour it...yeah, it's smooth, isn't it?"
• Being kind of a perfectionist, he will always be guiding and correcting, it's all done in good humor though
• His brothers don't appreciate it the way he and Splinter do, so he'll be inviting you in just for that when he feels the need to have some normalcy
Mikey:
• Mikey's ecstatic to share his skateboard!
• He's already letting you stick on a decal you like on the underside because art is totally his thing.
• You just know he's pumped about it. He's ready to show you all his tricks, but forgets you might not even know how to roll on it yet
• Don't worry about that though, because he's got you covered for real. Mikey makes learning fun which is so great for getting back up when you inevitably fall
• He's cheering you on for every little thing and sometimes it feels like he's celebrating nothing just to get you hyped
• "Try it out, babe! You wanna find somewhere to grind? I'll show you how to grind, like we do!"
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baeddel · 3 years ago
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uzumaki spoilers [again, read Uzumaki first]
i think we are licensed to say that Ito was influenced by Lovecraft when making Uzumaki. he has described Lovecraft as an influence himself, and he makes a comedic reference to the Mountains of Madness in one of the self-insert skits. the infohazard theme that was important in Lovecraft is an important theme in Uzumaki. but it’s interesting to see how they differ. Lovecraft was worried about humanity; the limits of human rationality, the development of the human species, and the fragility of human civilization. for Lovecraft only white men have access to rationality, so only white men can understand the horrors that lesser men bring into existence; this is alluded to in Pickman’s Model (“I’ve got a place that I don’t believe three living Nordic men besides myself have ever seen...”), and is implicit in stories like the Mound. Lovecraft’s protagonists are white American academics, scientists and artists who use their superior reason to uncover the horrible truths of the universe which humanity had until now been too primitive to witness. when they do reach beyond the veil they go mad, catatonic, chittering, or else kill themselves. lesser men mistake what they see for gods and make cults to them with obscene practices, or else degenerate into subhumans.
when Ligotti takes up the same things he uses similar characters and similar devices but with new coordinates. his refernces are not racial scientism and theosophy but structural anthropology and German idealism. the horrible wisdom of the world was not out of reach of Ligotti’s humanity but inescapably evident to it; all of our discourses and social institutions are ruses and devices through which we can hide from it. his protagonists uncover the truth because they are curious, knowledge-hungry fools. impulsively following the intellectual riddles that preoccupy them they disturb things that were better left alone. if they leave with their lives then they find their own way to avert their gaze and put the truth away.
in Uzumaki i think the relevant comparison is shūyō, self-cultivation. virtually every strain of East Asian discourse (religious, philosophical, etc.) has some version of this. what it means to cultivate yourself varies according to tradition but you should have the idea from the name. it’s about developing one’s learning, one’s habits and morals, or one’s te, inner power. everything from Buddhist meditation to martial arts to alchemy to keeping a rock garden is built on a theory of self-cultivation. while self-cultivation isn’t uncommon, there is an expectation that a very cultivated person will be strange (especially outside of Confucianism). sages are different from ordinary people; people can’t understand them, they have a different sense of right and wrong from other people, etc.
the first character in Uzumaki who has any idea about the spiral horror is Suichi’s father. he has renounced everything and devoted himself to the spiral; he spends all of his money on spiral merchandise and sits in his room staring at them. he learns, just by looking at the spirals, how to work miracles; he can move his eyes independently, extend his tongue unnaturally and curl it up, and finally extends and twists up his whole body into a spiral. he achieves a sort of twisted immortality in the spiral. you can easily read this as a dark paroday of self-cultivation; he is a middle-aged man who gets taken by fanciful ideas and spends a lot of money on it. it could as easily be green tea or anything else. his contortions are like a sort of evil tai chi.
Suichi is the second character who knows about the spiral horror. he knows, perhaps, more than his father; he knows how terrible it is. he withdraws from the world, sits alone in his home and does not eat. he rejects whoever comes to him except his lover-disciple; he teaches her how to avoid the spiral, though she cannot learn from him. he is one who has “drowned in the midst of dry land.”
Suichi’s father introduces Yasuo, Kirie’s father, to the spiral horror. he calls pottery “the art of the spiral,” a phrase Kirie’s father repeats for the rest of the manga. he turns his pottery into a form of spiral-cultivation. yet unlike Suichi’s father he doesn’t kill himself doing so. he listens when his family express their troubles and he goes on working on it quietly; he functions well even in the finale when everyone else is losing their minds.
when we get to the bottom of Dragonfly Pond we collect the fruit of cultivation. correct me if i’m wrong but i don’t think we see Suichi’s father in the underground structure at all. he remains in Kurôzu-cho, in the mud, the trees and smoke. Yasuo joins the tangle of bodies and is petrified next to his wife. Suichi basks in the light of the spiral without being petrified; he embraces Kirie and they become a spiral together in a happy infinity.
Uzumaki contains something of a self-cultivation manual. it shows us three sages, but also three lovers, and their different routes to immortality and also love. Suichi’s father cultivates himself excessively; he achieves a restless immortality within a few days but he never learns the truth of the spiral. as a lover he neglects his partner, and then calls to her from hell. he drives her insane and then condemns her to share his fate, all the while she begs him to stop. i don’t know about a Japanese parallel but in the Daoist system you would say that he shattered his shen and lost his vitality. Yasuo cultivated himself slowly, doing a little bit every so often by gathering the clay and firing it. he listened to his wife’s concerns and moderated his practices. he and his lover were petrified by the light of the spiral below Dragonfly Pond. as he lived a normal life, he met the same fate as the townsfolk. now Suichi: where common people are mesmerized by the spiral, and the other sages sought to harness it, Suichi rejected it. he withdrew from society into a reticent life of skeptical contemplation. he advised and mentored his lover so he could protect her from the spiral horror. thus he united with his lover and became immortal with her. it was because he rejected the spiral that he found a peaceful immortality in it.
interestingly we already find a lot of what we like about Bloodborne’s use of Lovecraft in Uzumaki. whereas in Bloodborne the Cthulu cult and its horrors are carried out not by primitives but by the Church, the hospital, and the repressive organs of the state, in Uzumaki it’s done by fathers, teachers, doctors and so on. whereas in Bloodborne it takes the form not of shamanistic religion but revealed faith and academic science, in Uzumaki it takes the form of self-cultivation. and in Bloodborne we also find a sort of practical-philosophical manual which stands along with the best tetsugaku, with its own failed sages (Micolash’s delerium, Rom’s ignorance) and ultimate successes (the Hunter in the third ending).
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noaltbruh · 4 years ago
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Bucci gang x shy reader headcanons!
GIORNO:
-while getting along with him was kind of hard at first, it didn't take long before you both realized how much you had in common
-he isn't exactly shy, more like introverted, but he perfectly understands your preference for places with few people and feels the same way
-he'll look for every place in the city that isn't well known or simply very quiet, cafes and parks are a must for you two
-you love to listen to him talking about his dream, for some reason it makes you feel more confident about yourself too
-he may try to get you out of your comfort zone once in a while, but he won't really do much
-if one day you simply don't feel like hanging out, he'll respect that and give you some space
-if someone ever tries to say anything offensive about you, especially if it's something you're insecure about, you already know Giorno is going to summon Gold Experience and punch the dude in the face at least five times
-God bless us if your eyes start getting wet
-sometimes you just lay next to each other without saying anything. You don't need words to understand what the boy is feeling, and it's the same for you
BUCCIARATI:
-Bucciarati's presence immediately made you feel at ease, you had no problem opening up to him about your insecurities, because you knew that he wasn't going to judge you for it
-He'll try harder than Giorno to get you out of your shell, but he knows your limits and will never put you in a situation you don't want to be in
-if you're part of the gang, he'll always make sure to keep you close to him, but if it's not really possible, he'll pair you with the second member of the gang you feel most comfortable with
-he often brings you along when he goes fishing, you mostly just look at him and don't actually participate but you don't mind
-you both love long walks! You could literally walk for hours without taking a break and you wouldn't get bored
-just...stay away from Abbacchio, let's just say he doesn't like you a lot
-he'll put his own life on the line in order to protect you, but this means that sometimes you'll have to stop him from doing something too reckless
MISTA:
-Mista took a like for you the moment you actually listened to all his weird theories instead of dismissing them like the rest
-sometimes you couldn't even keep up with what he was saying, but you still sat there without batting an eye
-"See? Y/n here likes my ideas, you guys are just too lame to get them!"
-if there's something you're passionate about, Mista wants to know every detail about it, he just wants to hear your voice more!
-he may sometimes tease you a little and call you stuff like "living cinnamon roll", but you think it's funny and like when he does it, even though it gets you kind of flustered
-you always have movie nights together! Mista's favourite genres are comedy and action, but he'll watch anything as long as you want to!
-once he convinced you to watch an horror movie, let's just say it...didn't go too well
-he'll often tell you jokes trying to get you to smile. When you laugh out loud you simply make Mista the happiest person on earth
NARANCIA:
-you knew there was chemistry between you and Narancia the first time you saw him
-he's outgoing, constantly cheerful, sees the good side in everything...he's your personal little bundle of sunshine!
-he's basically got enough energy for both of you and will often try to drag you into his pranks, do funny faces...he even taught you the torture dance!
-"Come on Y/n, put more life into it! I know you can do it!"
-he won't miss any chance to rub in Mista face what a cute girlfriend he has got, he's super proud of having you by his side!
-however, Narancia has a really hard time understanding that sometimes, all you need is just some peace and quiet and he'll purposely bring you to loud places hoping to get you to open up more
-despite everything, you know that he only has the best intentions at heart and do your best to keep up with him
-except him to randomly show up at any hour of the day at your home with snacks and videogames, he won't take "no" for an answer
-you basically had an heart attack the first time he opened the front door with a kick and ran in your room with 5 tubes of Pringles in his hands
FUGO:
-Fugo is no better than you when it comes to social interaction, so it took him quite a while before getting used to your presence
-he wanted to talk to you from the beginning, but didn't have the courage to
-it took Narancia and Mista five tries before convincing him to ask you out
-neither of you want to get out of your comfort zone, so you're ok doing your usual things without trying anything new
-favourite activity together? Listening to him playing the piano, of course!
-you actually discovered his interest for piano randomly: one day you happened to pass by while he was playing and he reluctantly told you that you could stay, only if you wanted to of course
-you also really like exchanging books! Fugo often recommends you very complex novels or manuals, but you like them nonetheless; you even read together sometimes!
-of course, you both discuss them after you finish, Fugo loves how passionate you can get whenever you talk about this sort of thing
ABBACCHIO:
-did you think getting along with Fugo was hard? It'll look like a joke after what Abbacchio will make you go through
-honestly, he couldn't stand you at first and would constantly call you "Stuttering mess", "Scaredy cat" or simply "Brat", if he felt good that day
-sometimes the rest of the gang had to tell him to tone it down a little and that he was going over the line
-despite this, you refused to believe this was all that Abbacchio had to offer, if Bruno had wanted him to join the squad it had to be a reason for it
-you continued to be nice to him no matter how he treated you, and with time you noticed that he started to get more and more used to having you around
-"I guess you're...not as annoying as I thought"
-he wants you to learn to stand up for yourself, often testing you with "What if scenarios" to see how you would act in a particular situation
-Even though he will never admit it, he's very protective towards you, even a little too much
-"Uh, the hell are you talking about? The only reason why I don't want you to get away from me is because you'll get yourself killed in less than a second and Bucciarati will blame it on me"
-speaking of Bucciarati, you can't help but feel like he has become more...distant since Abbacchio and you started dating.
-you love to drink tea with him! Don't worry, he won't piss in the teapot...not anymore at least
TRISH:
-Trish fell for you in the moment you met her, she loves your shy persona so much! She think you're the sweetest, cutest person ever!
-she always brings you along whenever she goes shopping and wants to know your opinion on whatever she's considering buying. You mostly just nod in approval, but you really appreciate her caring so much for your opinion.
-"A nod isn't enough, Y/n, I want to know what you think about it!"
-needles to say, she'll fill you with gifts, 99% of them are cute clothes, like fluffy dresses or skirts
-she loves giving you makeovers, it's the perfect balance between her hobbies and your interest for calm activities
-you tried to do something similar for her... it didn't exactly work out as you planned though. But Trish knows that you tried your best and that's all that matters to her
-except Spice girl to lay on you whenever you get distracted, her presence makes you feel at ease now, even though you got quite scared when she suddenly appeared behind you the first time
-Trish doesn't even try to call her back and just let her smutter you with love: she thinks you're even cuter when you blush!
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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years ago
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hi I'm back again. Anyways; as always you don't have to answer if you don't wish! How do you think the residents would react to a young Pureblood MC? (I'm talking about young like a minor.) With that Gen Z in a nutshell personality. Obviously no romantic feelings, just in your opinion how do you think they'd react? all of my questions are just "coincidentally" oddly specific aren't they, totally
Oh shit whaddup I love the idea of Gen Z MC!!! Young pureblood it is, here we go! I’m going to be moving from the assumption that they’re like Comte/Leo; very sympathetic to humanity and sometimes have existential crises (trauma babeyyyyyyyyy). As such, I’ll also be assuming she’s not super close to her family given she rejects the larger vampiric hierarchy/superiority paradigm, memes and modernity, all that jazz
I hope this fits the bill! c:
Under a cut bc is a lonnnnnnng boi~ Click after Napo to see everyone else’s! No explicit triggers that I’m aware of, but if anybody sees anything I missed feel free to let me know
Comte’s reaction:
Absolute baby, he has decided this is his grandchild--no he will not change his mind or take constructive criticism. Get’s ESPECIALLY concerned when he starts to see signs of that “nothing in life matters 😎” nihilism, but doesn’t pester them about it or becomes naggy. Growing up he had similar issues with the prospect of eternal life surrounded by creatures with a mortal lifespan, so he doesn’t judge. He’s more like nah we all hit that vibe, let’s see if we can get their mind off it c: I feel like Gen Z really understand and appreciate the importance of culture and art, so I feel like they would bond a ton over trips to museums/plays/concerts! Invites them to tea time if he ever sees them particularly silent (ah yes, repression) or particularly tired, and does his best to ensure their safety without being intrusive (has briefed the men to escort/accompany her as needed, though Sebas usually does it).
If he sees fangs out around baby he will thrash the shit out of the perpetrator--unless it’s an accident. No excuses. That’s a child. Doesn’t give a FUCK if they’re another pureblood even with all the arranged marriage bullshit. He said what he said. (Remember that biting between vampires or vampire + human relations is considered something that’s only done between intimate partners, so he is having none of that for a minor)
Leonardo’s reaction:
Also certified granddad, but he’s the one that enables shenanigans and is just like “oh worm” when it comes to the existential dread (it’s a Tuesday). At first though Leo is basically that meme like: (Stupidman = Leo, Maddie = MC)
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Not all purebloods are necessarily dangerous, but most are either incredibly indifferent to the plight of others (especially humans) or actively range from like playing social mind games to being sociopathic murderers/etc. the list goes on. As such, Leonardo is suspicious to no end until he sees that the kid really doesn’t have any ill will in her. She jokes with Sebas (they quote vines on the daily) and works with him normally; even when Leo asks Sebas he’s just “????? bro she’s just my kouhai, thanks for worrying tho”. One day he’s tasked with escorting her to grab groceries and assorted things for the mansion, and she freezes in place before bolting across the street. Turns out she saw a kid trip in the road and fall, and a carriage was moving fast from the other side--it likely wasn’t going to be able to stop. She scoops up the kid and holds them close, and when the parents try to thank her profusely she just seems more uncomfortable with the praise than triumphant. She didn’t want the kid to get hurt. If she could do something about it, it was as simple as that.
From that point on they’re hella chill and hang out together, usually just bonding in silence. If they’re an artist, he’ll offer them pointers and technique manuals--will help however he can. If not, they’ll just be reading together in the library now and again. If she falls asleep, he’ll tuck her in and watch over her (cue red eye meme when the door opens, but then it’s just Vincent so he c:). He’ll often pay close attention to her eating habits to make sure nothing’s amiss with her health since she’s still a growing pureblood. If she struggles with what she is a lot (given she’s sympathetic to human beings) he’ll synchronize his Rouge drinking with hers to make sure she doesn’t starve herself ;-;. Even if she’s just forgetful about drinking/eating, he’ll do what he can to make her life easier (that’s how he shows his affection uwu)
He will, of course, also tease her about being a baby until she kicks him in the shin while Comte sighs and tells him to knock it off with a smack upside the head
Napoleon’s reaction:
Not granddad energy, but you better believe he’s in a weird territory between sheer admiration and “I am your older brother now, eat your vegetables” “But I don’t even need vegetables” “Eat your vegetables and I’ll take you to a crepe shop” “............deal” 
Basically it’s unlikely MC is super close to her siblings or even has any (pureblood children are a rare feat) so she’s like......wary, but then she just ???? this is.....kinda nice? Just having somebody that cares in a chill way, but still fully encourages her to throw men across the street if they’re hurting women/children (high fives her every time). He’ll often invite her to the swordplay lessons with the kids alongside Isaac’s teaching; she’s free to join in the learning, or honestly just hang out with people closer to her age (he’s v concerned about her having friends that she can relate to and talk to freely). 
Protective in a subtle way, like Leonardo. Escorts her places and helps her carry groceries without fail when Sebas is running other errands. She becomes his crepe shop cover buddy whenever he has an intense hankering for sweets: “wanna go to that crepe shop around the corner” “you’re just too chicken to go alone, fool” “do you want crepes or not nunuche” “............BOKBOKBOK” “aight that’s it **gives her a noogie**” (they go anyway and have a marvelous time rating the crepes from best to worst, they got a whole list goin’) 
Glares Arthur down if he so much as LOOKS in her direction
Mozart’s reaction:
Mozart is just the “what is with this sassy, lost child?” meme. Doesn’t dislike them, but they are just not remotely threatened by his haughty disdain by any extension. And he HATES IT. The MC is always just “Okay, boomer” and he just ?????? He doesn’t know what it means but it’s openly dismissive, so he mad.
Like idk if y’all know this meme, but it’s the same energy as:
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It’s only when he notices she’s always punctual and careful with his requests that he starts to warm up. For example, she makes him a mocha by combining the way he likes his coffee and hot cocoa to perfection when he falls asleep at his piano. (She feels bad for him after Comte explains because--though he’s got a stick up his butt--he’s clearly distressed in his new surroundings ;-; Plus, the kind of perfectionism Mozart exudes is an extension of internalized shame, and when she begins to see that she really shifts her approach.) As such, he begins to soften to her presence. He begins to see that she isn’t indifferent to his existence, it’s more that she sees no need for intimidation and believes admiration is earned (basic respect isn’t a privilege, it’s a right). When he figures that out, he stops being so barbed and terse--starts to relax. Offers to let her stay and listen to his pieces if she wants, and she’s honestly touched given his clear struggle with vulnerability. Cuddles with Schelm at the window as he plays, and they become good friends. 
As a result, Mozart becomes fiercely protective despite her sturdier nature as a pureblood and has hissed venom at Arthur about the fact that she is off fucking limits. Doesn’t leave her alone in the same room as the other men unless it’s with Jeanne or Comte; he don’t trust like that.
Arthur’s reaction:
Sweating a lot at the sudden collection of baleful eyes sticking to his back everywhere he goes, but figures he brought it on himself to an extent. That being said, he can’t really get a word in edgewise given she just walks away when he tries to engage in conversation or compliment her.
Tough nut to crack this one, but he doesn’t let it discourage him. The only way she’ll give him the time of day is to play chess--and she kicks his ass soundly every single time. He’s fascinated by her extensive analytic ability, but she keeps silent about her strategies and thinking. Dazai and Theo always love to watch him get his ass handed to him, but he considers it a really interesting experience; it gives him insight into her mind, no matter how much she tries to hide. Patient, efficient, brutal--this kid has seen some shit, probably.
It’s after that point he just concedes she probably won’t let him in, though it doesn’t diminish his curiosity about the future; and perhaps traces of dread. What does the future look like for both her and Sebastian to be that stoic and aloof? It worries him...
Vincent’s reaction:
Vincent is v v impressed by her sense of self, and honestly sees a lot of Theo in her. She’s a little more reticent than Theo, but she has this same commitment to protecting the vulnerable and penetrating through the lies/shitty convictions of others. She is not a person who bends easily, but even so there’s a quiet kind of gentleness to her: she always chats to him v calmly, asks if he needs anything and is doing okay, doesn’t get impatient when he drops things or forgets his apron for the laundry. I think he would respond very positively to her presence, even if it wasn’t intentional. He just brightens up like a little sun and asks her out to picnics for fun; he has no greater intention than enjoying her smile and silly antics (he doesn’t always understand the references, but the way she executes it with so much dry wit--like Theo--makes him laugh). He just feels the warmth of family/familiarity around her ;~;
Ironically, they’re both exceedingly concerned for the other because they’re too self-sacrificing jkashlgdks like this is 100% a case of “I can’t let a young lady risk getting hurt” “Vincent I’m literally indestructible please just let me do this” “But it still hurts” “But I don’t want you to scar--” (This conversation extends so long that the author felt it would be more beneficial to add an etc. here). 
He admires her and trusts in her abilities more due to the nature of her maturity, treats her like a cherished friend and sometimes younger sibling (not condescending but very indulgent; gives her the last of his sweets for example, or pats her on the head when she’s feeling gloomy--more of a wholesome puts her first). But make no mistake, he will throw hands in milliseconds if she gets ganged up on or can’t handle a threat--he just lets her handle most things bc she’s capable~
Isaac’s reaction:
Torn. Because on the one hand, she’s very serious and conscientious about her work--doesn’t want to inconvenience or trouble anyone--and he relates to that heavy.
HOWEVER.
She’s also got insanely chaotic energy when the mood strikes, so when Dazai starts doing his random shitfuckery you better believe MC is upping the ante. (I’m talking AH. ENSLAVED MOISTURE. levels). So Isaac essentially oscillates between thankful for her fortitude to bashing his head against a table for every second he knows her.
In all seriousness though, I would see Isaac as being pretty concerned. Like Vincent, they’re both self-sacrificing to a fault--and he doesn’t want that for her, especially given how young she is. Often tells her not to overdo it or to ask for help if she looks overwhelmed, though it’s not condemning; he says it softly with a neutral look on his face. (He considers it a Certified Mood^TM). He just wants to give back all the care she puts into helping around the house. He doesn’t feel right watching a kid work so hard without reminding her that she should find time to have fun and live for herself too. There will be plenty of time when she’s older to get serious.
He has a fairly easy time interacting with her because of his experience with kids; he takes her seriously (when she’s not clowning) and treats her autonomy with respect. If anything, she’s probably the protective one. She knows he’s an aberrant so she pays laser attention to when he’s suffering and brings him Rouge (not scared because she’s stronger than him and not human lmao, and she sees no need to put Sebastian at risk). When that uni pres pesters him, she goes cold and angry and asks the man to step off when she sees him start to downspiral. They’re essentially on equal footing (he has more life experience, she has more bodily strength/confidence). They're just chill and kind with each other (babies of the mansion, beloved by all).
Theodorus' reaction:
Because he is a manchild, he will be chill/generally indifferent until Vincent starts being indulgent with her (bro-con). He won't be violent or anything like that, but he will pout a storm and try to verbally shoo her away. Because she's a woman, intelligent, and likely a feminist--this will become hilarious because she will not remotely take him seriously. She will just ignore him or roast him in seconds before moving on with her day. Otherwise he doesn't care much because he doesn't have time to play babysitter (unless there's no one else to help).
At the most, he'll make sure she's safe and use the excuse that Vincent would be upset if he did anything less. If she likes/loves dogs and plays with King while she's there, he'll soften up and thank her for taking care of him. If she makes hella pancakes, he'll be the proudest about it--ruffling her hair. If she protects Vincent in any capacity, he'll be torn between jealous, grateful and impressed; he likes a kid that can hold their own and take responsibility within their abilities.
So their relationship is v much like a chill uncle with their niece; fond, but not necessarily super close or spend a ton of time together. He has his priorities, but he won't be an asshat (mostly).
Jeanne's reaction:
Jeanne is confused on so many levels. He doesn't dislike her spunk he's just staggered by her level of sheer reckless, righteous rage. (And he's a bit wary in the face of another pureblood as a potential enemy) but after a bit more time around her he relaxes. She's fairly simple to understand when you get to know her; cares about others to a fault, existential dread, overworks herself. Stays watchful, but he just treats her like the younger kids that Napoleon brings by the weapons shop when they need armor for practice. It can get a little funny because he’ll just be like “uhhhh uh kids like sweet stuff right? Here have some of the macaroons somebody brought by earlier, I don’t like ‘em that much anyway.” And she just “??? Thanks???” He doesn’t mind being around her, just doesn’t really know what to say so they often fall into comfortable silence after exchanging small talk. She likes that he isn’t complicated; what you see is what you get with Jeanne. It’s nice not to have to keep her guard up every second of the day,
When he sees her feeling particularly down, he’ll take her to that little field of white lilies behind the mansion during a full moon night. The silver light seems to make the petals emit an ethereal glow, and she makes him a flower crown in thanks. He listens kindly if she wants to talk, and if she doesn’t--that’s okay too; he’ll just give her a head pat.
Honestly he finds a lot of relief in the fact that she's a pureblood, because he feels less nervous about her being fragile or her getting fatally hurt when he’s not around. Will still be very gentle with her and protect her when she’s in proximity
Mission Status: Fucking Wholesome
Dazai’s reaction:
Big brother time? It’s big brother time!!!! He instantly makes it his subtle mission to look after her, though he’s v lowkey abt it. She takes one look at this depressed mofo climbing in through the window and just goes “aw yeah, this guy FUCKS” and they become besties at a glance. They basically make a game out of who can be the most absurd whenever they’re in the same room. Comte and Leo find it utterly hilarious, Napoleon is digging a grave for Isaac in the backyard (we all know his heart won’t be able to take it. Mozart is probably next. A moment of silence for our fallen.)
I just imagine them like that one post (@/acoolguy):
Dazai: You ever have to shake your leg because there’s a rock in it? MC: That’s your bones Dazai: Every day I learn some more
He’ll always share treats with her and brings her along for walks if she’s feeling wanderlust; he knows how hard it can be, how restless the heart becomes so far from home. He does his best to distract her with their ongoing jokes, but one day it starts raining very suddenly while they’re out. He rushes her under the nearest tree with broad, broad leaves and settles his haori/overcoat over her head. He looks incredibly serious as he looks to the sky--almost glowering at the dark clouds gathering, He doesn’t look at all like his usual fun-loving self in that split second, even though he’s back to his good-natured chirping “Guess we’ll just have to wait out the downpour. MC, are you cold? I should have been more careful.” She shakes her head and shares the coat with him, holding it out insistently until he relents. Their hands brush and she notices they’re freezing, but she doesn’t say anything. She seems to sense he has a lot on his mind, and leans her shoulder against his. The silence feels fragile; she doesn’t want to risk shattering it--shattering him. It is often said that it is an act of great courage to wipe away someone’s tears. But it can also be an act of great gentleness to turn away, to pretend one cannot see them fall (whether visible or not).
One day, after MC returns to her own time, Dazai returns to his room to find two shadows hanging from his window. Though a little crude--they’ve obviously been made by a beginner--it’s clear what they are. Rain ghosts. (Sebastian later explains it was MC’s wish that he have them, and Dazai only smiles very, very gently in response.)
Shakespeare’s reaction:
MC gets one look at him and knows something’s off. She can’t quite tell what it is, but he doesn’t feel like the rest of the family. She can sense something behind him, something lurking; but she can’t quite place it. (Comte has mentioned before that purebloods can sense each other, so I imagine MC knows right off the bat he isn’t a normal sired vampire--she just doesn’t know enough to identify exactly what it is.)
That being said, she is sus. He keeps talking like some kind of weird ass court jester/fae, and she hated his work when she had to do it for school (only enjoyed the Hamlet memes because, let’s be real, that shit is uproarious). When he tries to coax her to see Vlad with him, she says “'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot play upon me.” And he just freezes in place before he starts laughing. Considers their battle of wills well-played, and warns her not to go out alone--doesn’t bother her again. Though sometimes enjoys listening to her conversations with others for good roast material. (No he is not taking notes, no this new chara is just fire and feral for no good reason--nothing to do with MC)
Sebastian’s reaction:
The l o r e, MC. Give him the forbidden pureblood lore. Will be incredibly curious and ask about what vampires are like outside of the mansion, for science of course. If he senses discomfort though his questions will die down completely--it’s not his intention to make her uncomfortable. He’s just curious! 
Despite his stoicism he’s actually a very, very understanding and warm person.  Will listen to any teenage jadedness or hopelessness with fond patience, recalling the days he was similar. He’ll offer what advice he can. He’s not one to be preachy, but if he sees someone at a loss, he’ll offer what he thinks might be a productive direction for them. Given her removal from her home and parents--even though she’s already well into high school--he’ll sympathize deeply with her position. Will be a firm but gentle guardian (hello Mansion Mom #2), offers her candy every time she does a chore exceptionally well or offers assistance without prompting. She’s sus and takes it reluctantly at first, but after she tries one in private secretly loves them. Sebas is just silently “you like krabby patties don’t you, squidward”. If she’s honest, she’s comforted by the sense of normalcy and care he gives, the harmless joking and easy respect for others (unless otherwise provoked).
When she finds out about his hobby considers him to be a Fucking Nerd^TM and wants to shove him into a locker, but in reality is endeared by how much he genuinely cares about the men. She thinks it’s a harmless fascination, and she senses the oddest...ephemerality about him. Because of this, she becomes pretty protective; he’s a human and he’s too nice for his own good. While she identifies in one sense, she worries in another. Pureblood are sturdy, but humans can’t necessarily sustain that kind of constant self-giving for long...
Also bc my tag game too strong adding it here: #i love the prospect of pureblood MC trying to bring Sebas and Napo together #MC: bruh i got this #Sebas, full of gay panic: wait, MC nO--
Meme tl;dr in the tags also for your enjoyment! I’m sorry this one took a little longer than most to finish!
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nettlestonenell · 4 years ago
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Part Two: 
Ardent Human Desire vs. Fate and the Manpasikjeok OR Why Are There So Many Obstacles Between Lee Gon and Jeong Tae-Eul’s Ultimate Reunion?
If you haven’t, please go back and read Part One: Questions About the Flute OR User Manual, Manpasikjeok Edition
Let’s agree to a few things to start, here.
1.       In a parallel universe, everyone has a counterpart/doppelganger.
2.       In TKEM’s version of this, your counterpart/doppelganger shares not only your birthday and therefore your age, but also your exact genealogy—which is to say you have the same parents, grandparents, bloodline across each universe. In TKEM this means you will have the same family name (Jo, Lee, Jeong, Myeong) across all possible universes, though your first names will change depending on your iteration. This also means that you are fated to be with the same family/lover/spouse across all possible universes. This is pre-appointed and applies to everyone. *exception: as the worlds begin to show their cracks, Jo Yeong’s parents have divorced, while Jo Eun-Sup’s stayed together, and have had twins. (The finale, when the worlds are again harmonized, reunites Jo Yeong’s parents and they do have twins, which seems to signal that this was their proper Fate)
3.       Episode 16, the series finale, seems to really muddy the waters of #2 in a way that I probably lean toward being sloppy consistency rather than deliberate revoking of world-building absolutes [Example: Jo Yeong’s parents are together in 2022 and have twins, but those children would be several years younger than their Republic counterparts (who are said to be starting Kindergarten at that same time), which is…not parallel universes in balance? It would signal exactly the opposite—that time and life flows entirely differently in each universe after repairing the flute…and 1:1 doppelgangers are no more--which is maybe yet another post needed to ponder that on…]
If we take on #2, we are left asking ourselves about three particular characters and their doppelgangers: Lee Gon/Lee Ji-Hyun, Jeong Tae-Eul/Luna, and Kang Sin-Jae/Kang Hyeon-Min
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Across all universes, how are they fated to hook-up? OR Who is Jeong Tae-Eul’s true, fated love across all universes in the mind and will of Manpasikjeok?
Is it Jeong Tae-Eul/Luna, and Kang Sin-Jae?
For example, if Shin-Jae of the Kingdom is fated for Luna, and vice versa, and he’s been taken to the Republic (against the will of the flute), he can’t be with Luna. BUT, if that is the fate, that those two are to be together--especially to have a child--then it translates across all parallel worlds, and means that Jeong Tae-Eul is meant for Kang Hyeon-Min, yes? The two Republic-based iterations. This also would illuminate two other things:
1.       The fact that Sin-Jae "has feelings for” Tae-Eul. She’s not the “right” iteration for him (he’s Kingdom and she’s Republic), but she’s the closest he can get to the satisfaction of his heart, in a frustrated Fate.
2.      It could be suggested -- Did you ever notice that the youth embodiment of the flute appears at least twice in situations that throw KSJ and JTE even closer together? In one, he’s leading that group of high schoolers past the TaeKwonDo center where KSJ first sees Tae-Eul, and in another he’s bullying KSJ so that JTE fights for KSJ. It doesn’t seem coincidental to me that the flute makes an appearance trying to throw these two together—even though they’re the wrong match. Poor thing, it’s trying, in its broken state, to still do its job, to still steer fate.
3.       But yet, Tae-Eul never--even long before meeting Lee Gon--has romantic feelings for Sin-Jae.
4.       And what we’re shown in the final episode of the series between Sin-Jae and Luna in the Kingdom could at best be called pre-romantic. (and more likely be termed platonic) Their relationship mirrors the JTE/KSJ relationship in the Republic, of her hyung-nim well before Lee Gon appeared, before KSJ expressed that he had feelings for her.
Is it Jeong Tae-Eul and Kang Hyeon-Min?
If it’s meant to be JTE and Kang Hyeon-Min as a fated couple, that’s impossible, as KHM has been rendered comatose in a way that we’re not shown is related to either the Traitor or the Treason. We are shown in Episode 16 what was “supposed” to happen was that he would NOT be struck by the car—his original fate doesn’t hold, there, and as such, his character in 2022, now a chaebol, is removed entirely from JTE’s circle of acquaintance. I’d say, importantly, in the Episode 16 re-set (pre-LG’s return), she not only never looks him up, she never encounters him, which if he were her fate or her potential fate, she surely would have.
Is it Jeong Tae-Eul and Lee Ji-Hyun?
I confess this is where my money is. Of course, Lee Ji-Hyun, in the Traitor’s made-over version of the Republic, dies at age 8, so JTE would never have met him, and therefore I posit would have lived as a single, childless woman until her death in that version of the Republic. (Without the LG re-set)
(Had she not met Lee Gon) I believe that JTE and LJH were fated, in the will and agenda of the flute. They are its preferred match.
What about Lee Gon, then? Who for him?
Remember, in Episode 16, Luna gets a found-family re-set, and PM Koo is jailed after some political intrigue (though not having risen as high as PM). While Lee Gon would not likely have met Luna 1.0 the street rat, it’s not impossible to think that he might, at some function or another, have met a politician’s sibling who was college-educated and working as a civil servant.
I choose to believe that all versions of JTE and LG are fated to be lovers and ultimately parents to children. It is only Lee R/Lim’s cockblock that makes it impossible for the Republic’s iteration of JTE to meet Lee Ji-Hyun, dead aged 8. 
Which is where Ardent Human Desire comes into play in altering Fate.
What is Ardent Human Desire when we’re talking about Fate?
Let me direct you to a little moment in a show called Goblin/Guardian: The Lonely and Great God, written by Kim Eun-Suk, the writer of TKEM. 
A moment of set-up: the Grim Reaper has a tea room behind a solid (to living human eyes) wall. In it he entertains dead souls before they leave this world. In one episode, a living human man comes through the door, begging for a bathroom. Both Goblin and Reaper are stunned: no one living should be able to come through that door, much less see it. It’s not their Fate. Fate is unchangeable, right? But after directing the living man (in pain from a need for the toilet), they muse that ardent human desire can perhaps open any door (alter any assigned fate). [Something Goblin is eager to accomplish, subverting fate]
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Seeing as it’s from the same author’s mind, I’d argue that that concept comes into play in TKEM, too.
From the Night of the Treason forward, Lee Gon has an ardent human desire to find JTE. Not Luna. No, he wants to meet the woman from the Republic who’s a police officer. That’s 25 years of a (let’s be clear: non-sexual, non-romantic at the time) persistent desire that never lessens, never fades. Furthermore, it’s a desire of the king who’s a potential player of the flute, of the growing child who heard the flute call to him. Of the man who chooses ultimately to retrieve the flute whole at ultimate personal risk (and risk, even, to his relationship with JTE, the object of his Ardent Human Desire).
And the flute tests him—in fact, I will argue with you all night and into the weekend that what we’re shown of him opening every door in the universe is just that: a test by Manpasikjeok. “Are you sure she’s what you really want?” it’s asking him. “How far will you go to find her? How many iterations of her happy can I show you until it lessens your desire for her? Until you give in?”
I think it’s terribly important that in no iteration does LG find a JTE doppelganger that’s in a bad situation, in need of rescuing. [Case in point: Luna 1.0 street rat--he’s allowed to see nothing similar] He expressly tells JTE that she is happy every time he finds a version of her. And yet, because of how fate works in TKEM’s universes, he likewise never finds her married or involved with anyone, or with children—because, as Part One laid out: if one Lee Gon/JTE has children (same birthdays)/hooks up with their fate, then ALL iterations of Lee Gon/JTE have children (same birthdays)/have hooked up with their fate--particularly once the timeline and flute have been repaired.
We know that if those JTEs had met their LG iterations they would have AT LEAST recognized our LG’s face when he presented himself. But they don’t. Nope. She is always employed, always still living in the same building with one, if not two, parents. Because of that we’re never shown that LG has trouble locating her (as JTE did in the Kingdom locating her mother, checking their address, b/c there her parents were both dead).
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This shot will never look above-board.
To think about how these/this situation works, keep in mind that last leap during their epilogue dating trips—where LG had just left the Kingdom and they were blipped back there only minutes later. The flute, in its whole form, is clearly controlling where they are sent and when (and perhaps that’s a different post, too, about how the flute is preparing/teaching Lee Gon to be its eventual player). The flute, when whole, controls where you end up. It’s not a transporter where you dial up your destination, it’s spinning a roulette wheel if the roulette wheel is fixed by the House.
Here, in the immediate wake of resetting the night of the Treason, the flute is actively NOT LETTING Lee Gon get to JTE. It is MAKING HIM open every door in the universe, seeing if he will persist, showing him what it wants him to see. (Her happy and at peace, not in need of him.) The flute is trying to see if it can convince Lee Gon to let her go since, as they are from two different worlds, they are not each other’s assigned fate.
Obviously, showing him a JTE in straitened circumstances would only encourage him to find her. That’s not going to lessen his desire, so the flute doesn’t go that route. Instead, it shows JTE with purpose, first (I think) as an airline pilot, then a soldier, a graduate of the police academy, and finally as some version of an ‘Idol’ (I think.) [*All positions that also do a surprisingly good job of showing qualities that would sync well with being the Queen of the Kingdom, so perhaps the flute is a little conflicted about JTE as well…]
And what’s more, during this time, as LG is opening every door in the universe (and also, I assume, only being able to venture into the liminal space and leave the Kingdom occasionally b/c he’s still got King Work to do), the flute decides to put someone directly in bitterly lonely Tae-Eul’s path as well.
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And it’s not to break her heart (nor viewers’). 
Think about when she encounters Lee Ji-Hyun on the street. On my original views it seemed to me that he didn’t take any notice of her at all (she is, at her height, well out of his line of sight), but upon closer re-watch he DOES actually have a second of looking at her. It’s not extended eye contact, and maybe not direct eye contact at all, but he does see her. In this, the flute gives Tae-Eul the chance to see her original, pre-LG fated love. And what does it have him dressed in, just for her sake?
That’s right: his military uniform. It’s not the same coat Lee Gon wore when washing rice, that was white—but it’s the black one he and Yeong are wearing in their selfie. “Here he is,” the flute/Fate seems to be saying to her, “he could be yours if you’ll only accept him.”
[*It is also perhaps because Lee Ji-Hyu- iterations are serving his military service that the other JTE-iterations have not met him yet in the other parallel universes]
But the Ardent Human Desire of these two lovers refuses to be swayed, even after a year of separation and total ignorance of each other’s post-reset situations. Persistent. Ardent. Human. Desire.
The flute is indebted to both of them. They each took steps that culminated in a destiny/fate they each chose to embrace (to use Prince Buyeong’s words). They sacrificed their own Ardent Human Desires to fix the timeline and the parallel universes while knowing it might well separate them forever from that which they desire (the exact opposite of villainous Lee R/Lim’s actions). [In fact, making  ultimately Kingly choices, shows of wisdom and worthiness.]
The King Lee Gon chose for not only his subjects, but also the citizens of the Republic, and the future Queen JTE chose to brave the liminal space with Lee R/Lim for her love, the King.
And in the wake of that, fate—and the Manpasikjeok—agreed to bend.
Which is why LG and JTE then become what is fated.
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elle-imagines · 4 years ago
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Kakashi, madara, and Itachi with pregnant s/o, please???
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Itachi Uchiha
Itachi is the type of man to be too watchful of you, give you your space, then be back over your shoulder. During your pregnancy, he is very observant of the fluctuation of your chakra levels, the growing tightness of your clothes, and the patterns of times when you get up from the bed because of nausea. He is wordless, trying not to show his concern and trepidation regarding your pregnancy. He will purchase new clothes you find in the closet, or use your chakra activity to predict when you wake up in order to make breakfast. 
You will find him reading a variety of books on pregnancy and children: dieting, children’s tales, medicine scrolls, midwife manuals even. Itachi believes the best way to be prepared is through knowledge. He knows which tea can aid digestion and which to avoid altogether. Itachi knows to rush you to the nearest restroom when at 3:00pm. You can count on him to make meals that will be packed with nutrients, knowing you hold so little down. He knows when you are dizzy or need to rest, he knows when you need to go for a walk and stretch.
I would not be surprised if Itachi took up gardening and subsistence farming to ensure the food you are given is healthiest. A chicken, a collection of leafy greens, rich tomatoes, ginger root, and medicinal herbs. Very ambitious, though it’s unsurprising since it’s Itachi.
A great listener and observer of your needs and wants. Even if you say something offhandedly, he will dutifully research it and come back to you with help. Every word you speak he handles with care and a close ear.
You grow to enjoy the smell of your favorite tea in the evenings and the sound of the shoji door facing the garden opening. It’s a silent invitation from Itachi, a desire for your company.
Will compliment you out of nowhere. The new robe he bought you or how you decided to style your hair. Even during labor or moments when you feel your worse, he finds the beauty in your tenacity and gentle strength when carrying his child. Itachi loved his family dearly, and feels grateful at the chance to start a new one and have a life he would not have dreamt he could achieve.
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Madara Uchiha
He feels so much pride when he looks at you and sees your stomach growing. You will find him just looking at you with an intense expression that can only be characterized as smugness, adoration, and excitement. Madara won’t hesitate to accompany you to the market or for walks through town, taking it as an opportunity to ensure people know you are protected and revered.
He will cradle your stomach even in the earliest stages of the pregnancy, and will become more affectionate than normal. His stares will grow longer, his hugs a tad tighter, and his hesitation before leaving to work keeps getting worse.
Probably woud recommend a name that means “decimation”, “honorable”, or “fire”. Are we going to act surprised by this?
If you become more irritable, he is very understanding and probably likes it (this guy lol). He enjoys when you stand up to him or tell him to give you some room, so don’t hesitate to do so. He expects you to voice your needs to him and speak to him on an equal ground.
Taking care of you takes care of him. Madara understands the necessity of being healthy in body and mind, and he knows that he won’t be at his best if you are not well. He regularly checks on you, using his chakra to reach the baby’s own energy, to give you warmth against your aching back. Surprise pop-ups at home and a not-too-happy when you are later in your term and out by yourself. Madara does want you to be independent, but he worries that he won’t get to you if you need him.
He is very adept at putting together healthy and hearty meals for the both of you, and will do so without you asking.
Also very adept at guiding you into stretching or massages, being a shinobi. He will indulge you, wanting you to keep your strength. However, he will definitely just pick you up when you’re growing tired and carry you whereever you need to be, even if it’s just to the bathroom.
Definitely the type of soon-to-be father to work you into the conversation, even if it’s not the topic:
“Well, my wife’s pregnancy could be comparable to that.”
“An increase in vegetable imports will also benefit the wellness of Konoha...including my Y/N’s pregnancy.”
“I have two quite important people to attend to. Excuse me.”
“As you will never know the joys of having someone like my partner. Whom I impregnated.”
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Kakashi Hatake
One of the greatest changes of your pregnancy is that Kakashi shows. Every time. On time. Yes, I know. He is there when you need him as quickly as he can get to you, even if it’s because your feet have grown too swollen to walk on or you need company to your midwife appointment. He wants to show that you are prioritized, you come first before anything.
Definitely a bit frazzled and baffled by newfounding parenthood, even if he hides it well. There will be times when you have to explain you simply can’t hold it, you have to go to the restroom now! Your body is changing into something unfamiliar to you and beyond your control, so relaying this to him will help him understand the gravity of pregnancy.
Not much of a cleaner, he at least tries to clean pet dander and wash everything more than normal since your nose became more sensitive. He is very good at keeping your necessities in stock as well, no matter how eccentric your taste buds have evolved into. Your favorite pillow, food combination, and medicinal tea remains at your home.
You live for when you see his eyes crinkle when you invite him to feel the child moving. There are rare moments when Kakashi shows pure happiness on his face.
I wouldn’t put it past him to have a bell tied in almost every room so that you could call him.
He’s very easygoing, doesn’t have fragile masculinity, and is patient about your needs. He will help you put your shoes on every morning and help you up from your chair. He gets you to laugh unexpectedly at his wry remarks or the ridiculous baby clothes he suggests to buy (can you believe he wanted their first outfit to be a puppy costume?). There is nothing off the table he won’t help you with, even what will make people feel queasy. He is there for you.
You both spend time thinking of baby names, and of course he recommends something you’d give a pet rock or plant. 
Kakashi doesn’t shy away from talking about the future you both share, and wants you to know he will be there for you and the child you both share.
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canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago
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The Miys, Ch. 117
Apologies for not getting this up at 2pm today EST like usual. Thank you to @baelpenrose for reminding me... There isn’t any particular reason, honestly. I’m taking some time off of work and actually forgot what day of the week it was.
Extra kudos to everyone who found this story this past week and absolutely blew up my notifications.  There are so many of you that I can’t name you all, but you made my heart swell with gratitude. I hope you all enjoyed it!
This chapter is revisiting something that has been hinted at in the story so far, and it’s something I’m setting up for later. 
I groaned as I looked at the sheer size of the files just transferred to my datapad. “Are there seriously that many to go through?”
Alastair took his seat across from me, already looking through some of the information. “When the Council agreed that open cooking classes were a good way to share our pre-Exodus cultures, it had to be expected.  One thing consistent across every nation on Earth…”
“We all gotta eat,” I sighed. Scanning through the files, my mind was already whirring away. “It looks like we can already sort this on a high-level and let the system do some of the work for us.” I grabbed a file and flicked it over to the emitter in the middle of the table. “Three main groups. First, suggestions sent in can be completely sorted by the computer so we can pull out most popular dishes, techniques, etc.”
Alistair nodded. “I will never argue my way into reading repetitive information.  The day I do, please drown me most unpleasantly.”
“Duly noted,” I grinned. With another flick, I added our second category. “Then volunteers for actually leading the courses. The computer can pull them out, then we can go through them once we have the data from the first group.”
Tapping his chin, my assistant made a thoughtful noise. “That should just leave people hand-waving to take the courses. How do you plan to go through that mess?”
“Throw them right out.”
He sputtered before staring at me. “Rather mercenary of you, don’t you think?”
I shook my head. “Don’t get me wrong, I want a total of how many people are showing interest, but that’s it. I’m loving the enthusiasm, but we don’t even know yet which courses we are going to do, or even what order. Once we have that set up, we can figure out how many people per group and create a formal sign up.  Hopefully one we won’t have to manually handle.”
“Mr. Khan can certainly handle that.”
“IF he has time,” I pointed out. “Pranav is grooming him as a candidate to take over on the Council once the colony is established.”
“Rather unfair to the voting process, isn’t it?”
I waved a hand at him. “He’s not the only one Pranav is mentoring. Pranav wants the ship to have a very strong pool of candidates, who are definitely capable of the job, whoever gets chosen.”
“I have to admit, it’s very forward-thinking of him. We are eight years out, aren’t we?”
“Seven and a half, I think. Noah?”
“Yes, Wisdom. By current calculations, we are seven years, eight months, three weeks, and four days from Von, using Terran standard time units.”
“And since we do not have time units established for Von, that’s the best we can do,” I sighed. “Thank you, Noah.”  Between work, therapy, and sparring with my sister and Charly, I hadn’t seen the big guy in weeks. It felt weird to miss someone who was omnipresent, but here I was, wishing I had more time to spend with a giant talking mushroom.
Dragging my focus back to Alistair, I answered his question. “Most of the Council are currently identifying candidates who they can pass the torch to once we are able to step down.”
“Most?”
Spreading my hands, I gestured to the room. “Do you see anyone here other than us?”
Alistair paled. “I beg you, please do not tell me…”
I groaned and dropped my head to the table. “No one wants this position, I swear.”
“Nearly dying several times does not make the role appealing, no.”
“Still alive,” I reminded him. “Besides, you know that has less to do with the role and more to do with me.”
“Well, yes. You have near-death experiences drinking tea.”
“Ass.”
Alistair smirked at me. “Yet you did not say I was wrong. Besides, I would have thought you were grooming Tyche to take over for you?”
“She would kill me for asking and you for suggesting it. Probably. If we’re lucky.”
“Fair…” he admitted, unphased. “Miss Harper?”
“Huynh got to her first.”
“I would have thought he would be more focused on your Mr. MacMaoilir.”
“Somewhat? But there is an arms-length clause to serving on the Council.” When he stared at me, clearly expecting clarification, I went on. “Councilors cannot be related, either romantically or familially. So, Conor would not be able to serve until I step down, which isn’t looking all that great at the moment.”
“And yet Councillor Huynh is still considering Miss Harper?”
“Ersatz sister is not real life sister, legally.”
He snorted. “Rather ridiculous, but if it allows Miss Harper to succeed, I will excuse it.” He tapped his chin again, thinking.
After an extended silence, I gave him a sardonic look. “See the dilemma?  I never thought that I would regret Jokul swearing to never take a position on the Council.  Hell, I told him before he pulled that stunt that I would gladly give him my job if I could.”
“As much as it pains me to suggest, have you considered that rather rude friend of yours?”
“Arthur? Sorry to say, your best friend is being mentored by Eino.”
“Mr. Costa?”
“Grey, duh,” I rolled my eyes. “Arms-length enough that they see no issue with my sorta-brother-in-law, apparently.”
“Your predecessor,” he threw out, exasperated.
“Said absolutely not, and is also being mentored by Eino.”
“Miss Reid, you are sorely in need of a wider social circle.” Scrolling through a list on his data pad, something caught his eye. “Has Councilor Kalloe considered her replacement?”
“Evania Josue is the favorite there,” I admitted.
“That could be our solution.”
“Our?” I teased.
“Very few people have the opportunity to choose their future boss,” he pointed out. “But if Councillor Kalloe steps down before or at the same time you do, Parvati Fletcher would be an option.”
“Huh,” I grunted. “I didn’t consider that.”
“There is also Hannah Bodenheimer, depending if Mr. Khan replaces Pranav,  or possibly Sebastian Reed. His file shows he was actually considered for my position, so he would be a good fit.”
I threw my hands up again. “How? How!? I’ve been trying to find someone for a freaking year and you just gave me three in five minutes.” I scowled and pointed at him as I brought my arms down.
“Rigorously avoiding potential death does wonders for my mental capacity,” he stated drily. “Also, had you asked me a year ago, you would be significantly less frustrated, I believe.”
I made a note on my calendar to speak to the three in question, while trying not to give him the satisfaction of looking too relieved. I’d never live it down. I was already concerned that this entire conversation was already logged right next to the choking-on-tea incident as ammunition for future needling.
I also resisted the urge to hug him in gratitude, largely because I wasn’t entirely certain the urge was actually to hug him, or if it was to choke the smug look off his face.
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quazartranslates · 4 years ago
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Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH112
**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**
[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]
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Chapter 112: The Dream of the Holy Nun (II)
"So Ning Zhou is there with you now?" Miao Li asked as she roamed Qi Leren’s dream.
Qi Leren kept having unwanted dreams whenever he nodded off, but thanks to Miao Li's intrusion, he had been woken from the nightmare he had been having just now. His dreams of continuous death only made him more tired.
Miao Li yawned: "That's great, we’re still busy with the follow-up for the Slaughter Secret Society."
"Isn't it all over?" Qi Leren asked.
"Over? No, no, no, this task is much more complicated than you think. Although you’ve performed the most critical part, there are many other things besides this..." Miao Li pushed her glasses up. "Do you think sending you into the Slaughter Secret Society undercover is the only thing we did? It took a lot of effort for the Illusionist to cover up your tombstones on Undead Island. He’s very curious about you."
Tombstones? Qi Leren suddenly remembered that when he’d recognized Luo Yishan, Luo Yishan had also recognized him. If he sent someone to investigate the identity of 'Qi Leren', then those amazing tombstones on the Undead Island…
Wait a minute.The Court knew about his tombstones? Qi Leren was stunned.
"You thought no one knew about it? In a few months, the whole Twilight Township will know that there’s a player named 'Qi Leren' who has died many times. This kind of bizarre news always travels quickly," Miao Li said with a smile, seeming to see what he was thinking.
Qi Leren suddenly had a bad feeling. He didn't want to get into any trouble: "Is there any way to cover up my tombstones? For example, by digging them out?"
For the sake of confidentiality, Qi Leren would not hesitate to dig his own graves.
"...Your idea is really interesting, but the Nightmare World is different from reality after all. Even if you forcibly dig out your tombstone, it will be refreshed after midnight. The Undead Island is like a game log, recording the names of players since the birth of this world. What qualifications do we have to delete the game logs when we’re only players?" Miao Li said with a slight irony. "So we just sent an Illusionist to temporarily cover your tombstones on the Undead Island after confirming that you needed to go undercover. Now the Illusionist has removed the illusion, and your secret can't be concealed for too long. As long as one person finds out, a secret is no longer a secret. You should be glad that there aren’t many people who have grave-sweeping as a hobby."
It was unfortunate. If the Illusionist had covered the tombstones earlier, he wouldn’t have been distracted by the mountain of death records. It seemed that you should use your real name less when walking outside. If there were onlookers, he would be afraid of someone trying to take advantage of his ability to resurrect himself... This had already happened and would continue to happen. Speaking of which.
"The Slaughter Secret Society’s believers were caught, right? Luo Yishan... Lie Yang knows my real name. At that time, I failed to kill him in the field," Qi Leren asked with a frown.
"He’s dead, died of the seed of slaughter’s outbreak and blood loss. Now the Village of Dusk’s enchantment has been closed, only in not out. The connection attached to the memento ring can track the identities of people who have entered the field, and basically all believers have been either arrested or will be soon. However, there are still several believers who were not in Dusk when the incident occurred, and two other believers escaped before the enchantment closed," Miao Li gave a brief account of the situation.
"Who escaped?" Qi Leren suddenly had a bad feeling.
Miao Li gave him a deep look and seemed a little sympathetic: "Two people you know very well. Mrs. Kathleen, and her subordinate Ashley."
"..." The sense of foreboding always came true. Qi Leren couldn't say what kind of revelation this was.
"Let Ning Zhou train you, maybe it will be useful one day," Miao Li said.
The depressed Qi Leren looked indifferent. Ning Zhou didn't speak kindly when he trained him. He couldn't remember how many times he knocked him to the ground even when he was prepared. Even if his psychological quality was better, he would soon have a psychological shadow from falling into a sprawl all the time.
"Oh, another thing about Slaughter, go to the Trial after you finish your first compulsory task and set aside at least one week of survival days. We’ll help you take out your ticking timebomb," Miao Li said with a smile and walked out of his dream lightly.
It was already morning when he woke up. Although it was still sunset outside the window, the countdown of survival days told him that another day had passed. Qi Leren struggled to get out of bed, washing and thinking about today's mission.
Ning Zhou gave him a daily training menu, and he was also responsible for sparring with him for some of the contents that required a partner. Therefore, Qi Leren took the initiative to prepare the "coach"'s three meals. At present, the two people got along well - considering that so many embarrassing things had happened between them, this harmonious relationship was even more commendable.
There was a faint warmth when he remembered the scene of them eating together in the warm sunset.
However, Ning Zhou said yesterday that he would be absent today and Qi Leren didn't bother to ask him where he was going, so he was the only one who enjoyed breakfast today.
Compared to a large number of procrastinators and lazy parasites in modern society, Qi Leren was a very self-disciplined person. After entering the Nightmare Game, he consciously exercised himself. Now that he had this scientific tutorial, he cherished this opportunity very much. Although every day he was drilled so black and blue that he had to crawl to bed at the end of the day, and when he fell asleep he was haunted by nightmares from time to time, the next day he would still grit his teeth.
Ning Zhou was not here, so the training schedule was cancelled. After training in the afternoon, Qi Leren had some rare leisure time. Out of camaraderie among friends, he specially copied a training menu for Dr. Lu. In the private clinic, he saw Dr. Lu lying on a soft sofa enjoying dessert and hot drinks. He warmly invited Qi Leren to share in the afternoon tea.
After learning about Qi Leren’s recent training menu, Dr. Lu showed the expression of "My little friend is so masochistic he would scare a baby to death" and only reluctantly agreed to jog for two kilometers every day after being persuaded by Qi Leren. However, when he saw his criminal record of falling flat after running only two steps - which Dr. Lu repeatedly explained was because his cerebellum was naturally uncoordinated and his balance was worse than the average person - Qi Leren didn’t believe he would last for long…
After coming out of Dr. Lu's clinic, Qi Leren also saw a player who spoke with an accent talking with his friend: "There’s a female doctor here whose medical skills are very good! There’s just a few more rules. "
"Really? Is she beautiful?"
"He's a man."
"Didn't you say it was a female doctor?"
"Oh no, it's Nu (woman)."
The window on the second floor suddenly opened. Dr. Lu poked his head out and said maliciously, "My last name is Lu! I don't treat people with accents!"
After asking for forgiveness, the two people found that the doctor was hard-hearted and they immediately took up evil thoughts, wanting to threaten violence. Worried about Dr. Lu’s safety, Qi Leren, who hadn’t left yet, simply practiced his recent training results and was pleasantly surprised to find that one or two players weren’t a problem.
The two players didn’t even dare to trash talk as they escaped. Qi Leren watched the two disappear at the intersection and then reluctantly looked at the helpless Dr. Lu: "Now that you know how important exercise is, let’s teach you a few tricks."
Dr. Lu opened his mouth and exclaimed: "I’m used to you having the aura of a mysterious soft girl, you’re as easily bullied as I am. I’m surprised to see you’ve improved so much. It’s really hard to look at you now, you were so cute before..."
Qi Leren’s hands itched to beat him. What is this mysterious soft girl aura?! Who the hell is cute? Although that one task forced me to be a girl for a few days,  I’m still a man normally. I just sent two seven-foot men packing!
"Have a good time training yourself. If you can’t run at least two laps, what will you do the next time someone makes trouble? If you can't beat them, you have to run for it," Qi Leren said earnestly, too lazy to care.
"Don't I have a skill card, [Here, We Will Have Free Wi-Fi]? When equipped, everyone will slowly forget my existence and do their own thing. If the duration of the skill is up, I'll either admit defeat or call the police. If it truly doesn't work out, there'll always be passersby who will help me at the crucial moment," Dr. Lu said firmly.
"...Do whatever you want." Qi Leren said tiredly. As someone with E-level luck, he didn't quite understand the confidence of someone with EX luck, so he left in a disgruntled manner.
It was still early, so he could go somewhere else. Qi Leren made a trip according to the addresses and information given by Chen Baiqi. There were two players who were good at manual work and could be used to make chargers. As a result, when he came to the doors that matched the addresses, one had gone out to do a task and wasn’t at home and the other house was empty, which should mean he’d died recently.
Qi Leren was in a state of melancholy. It seemed he would have to come back another time to see if the player who had left to do a task had come back alive.
As he had plenty of time, Qi Leren simply checked the main task again. Ever since he’d entered the Nightmare World he would go see if the key NPC Rudd, who triggered the task, was present, but he deliberately didn't trigger the task for fear that he would die again. He just wanted to see if anyone knew about it.
Following the remembered route, Qi Leren came to the Twilight Township’s NPC settlement, which was close to "Red’s" home where he’d been staying while undercover with the Slaughter Secret Society. Qi Leren was afraid he would meet some believers who hadn’t been arrested, so he put on his cloak for safety.
Under the setting sun, a large amount of water vapor gushed out from the rusty iron pipes on both sides of the road, seeming like smoke when seen from a distance.
There was a tavern in the depths of the alley near a garbage dump made of scrap iron. The iron waist-high iron gate couldn’t keep out the noisy sounds coming from the building. Men played cards, drank, and chatted loudly, making this remote tavern seem very lively.
Qi Leren pushed open the waist-high iron gate and walked into the pub.
The tavern owner recognized him, the man with short curly hair asking enthusiastically, "I haven't seen you in a long time, Qi."
"I’ve been busy with some things recently," Qi Leren answered and looked around.
The NPC Rudd he is looking for wasn’t here... This was unusual. Every time he’d come here before, he was drunk in the corner of the pub. According to the plot, if he bought him a drink, he would recount his memories with a face of snot and tears, the tragic battle where mankind's Holy City was overtaken by demons more than 20 years ago, and then he would go to the churchyard to pay homage to his comrades.
"Where's the drunk?" Qi Leren asking, pointing to the corner of the pub.
"Oh, him. Just now, a man in a cloak came to have a drink with him and then they left together. Before leaving, the guy even paid off the wine bill he owed. I’m really grateful," said the boss.
Qi Leren's face changed instantly: "What did the man look like?"
"I don't know, he was also wearing a cloak. I couldn't see his face clearly," the boss said. "But I haven't seen him here before. I don't remember his voice... Hey, don't you want your wine?"
"Keep it!" Qi Le rushed out of the pub and headed for the abandoned church not far away without looking back.
The main task’s next step was there!
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kiwi-bitchez · 5 years ago
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Ahoy-hoy. Yo so I got cheated on and TBH I can't smile. Idk if you're taking requests, but maybe write me a revenge-fuck sort of story? Sorry if you're not taking asks.
Hello! Don’t apologize, my asks are always open!! Thank you for sharing this with me, my heart really goes out to you. I’ve been cheated on before so I know how shitty you must feel. Sending you lots of love and also this fic. Not sure if I really captured the spirit of “revenge fucking” cuz this ended up being kinda #soft… but I hope you like it!
Manual Labor
Coffeeshop!AU / Carpenter!Tom
Word Count: 6.4K
Warnings: smut, the usual, oral, swearing, cheating, ex-boyfriends being shitty, lots of tea
Summary: After being cheated on you can’t seem to see the brighter side of things. That is until a familiar British carpenter comes into your work to fix some things. You bring him tea and things go a little better this time…
Dating in your twenties can be difficult. Everyone is at different stages in their lives, and everyone wants different things. Some people are looking for commitment, others just for hookups. So when you find someone who sticks, who wants the same things as you, it feels really nice.
Well, it feels really nice until they cheat on you after a whole year of dating. You would be foolish to say you thought he had been “the one,” but you really thought the two of you had clicked on a deep level. You were both mature, career-driven, hardworking, and caring people. Right? Well, it seemed so at the time.
But somehow you find yourself buried under seven layers of duvet blanket, bawling your eyes out on a Tuesday afternoon. It had all happened so fast, you hadn’t even had time to be emotional about it until it was all over. You kept running through your head what you had done wrong, what you could have done better.
Thursday rolls around and you realize its about time you show back up at work. Thankfully your boss is a sweetheart and told you to take all the time you needed. You tried to go into work the day after it all went down and ended up crying into someone’s coffee order.
You had cried all your tears and ate all your ice cream, and decided it was about time to rejoin society. Rolling out of bed you throw on your typical work outfit, black jeans and a t-shirt. You look in the mirror and try to splash some cold water on your face to kill the puffiness under your eyes.
Some mascara helped, and a little bit of lipgloss never hurt either. Once you were presentable enough, you make your way over to your job at the local coffee shop. Your coworkers all greet you with big smiles and empathetic hugs. It was obvious what you were going through, but you appreciated their support. You just wished everything would go back to normal.
“I never liked him anyways,” your closest work friend Margret admits, “I always thought you could do so much better.”
“Thanks Marg,” you don’t bother to look up from the pastry labels you were making, trying to signal that you really weren’t in the mood to talk about it.
Everyone kept telling you the same things, “He wasn’t good enough for you,” “You can do so much better,” “Fuck him.” Although you wanted to believe everyone, to be the badass independent woman you thought you were, you couldn’t help but well up with tears every time someone brought him up.
You manage to get through the week. Each day consisting of a little less crying and a little less binge eating, you slowly get back into your regular routine. Well, your regular routine excluding him of course.
It’s a slow afternoon, only a few customers dotted the coffee shop, most on their laptops doing work or having private conversations. You had zoned out, thinking about your schedule for the week, balancing school and work, as you stood behind the register waiting for another lonely customer to come in.
Your hand pressed into your cheek, leaning your weight onto your hand, you mindlessly stared at the wooden floor.
“Excuse me,” a strange accent asks from behind the counter. When had someone come in? Why hadn’t you noticed?
“Is Anna around? I’m the handyman here to fix the countertop,” his voice was like red velvet cake, and brought you right out of your trance.
“Anna’s right in the back, I’ll get her for you,” you answer his question instinctively before taking a moment to recognize the familiar face in front of you. You recall him from a few months ago, he was a carpenter who had come in to do some renovations over the summer.
His name was Tom. That you couldn’t forget. It had been a blistering hot summer day and he had come in to take a look at some part of the shop, something that had needed fixing. He went to the same school as you but worked part-time for a local carpenter.
He had assessed the damage and assured your boss Anna that he could start right away, only needing the rest of the day to fix up what needed mending. He had been wearing a white t-shirt that clung slightly to his body with sweat from the heat. He was good looking and certainly attracted the attention of most people in the vicinity, especially as he worked with the tools from his belt. You couldn’t help but stare for a second.
But only a second. Your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, often spent his time in between classes at the coffee shop visiting you. He always sat at the table closest to the counter so you could talk to him when business was slow. That’s why you stared for only a second.
After around two hours, you decided to go over to him. He had been working tirelessly, and the exhausting heat must have been getting to him.
“You drink coffee?” you ask, causing him to stop drilling at whatever he was fixing.
“I drink tea, darling,” he responds, causing you to notice his thick accent.
“How do you take it?” you blush a little, as his dark brown eyes looked directly into yours as he answered your question. You figured you were just being nice, he was working really hard and looked like he could use a break, that’s all.
You quickly made your way back behind the counter, whipping up a cup of tea and a blueberry muffin that he hadn’t asked for but you were sure he’d appreciate.
“Thanks love,” he said appreciatively as you set it down on the table closest to him.
“On the house,” you smile back at him, “for all your hard work.”
You hadn’t thought too much of the interaction, just a nice gesture you felt like doing. Your boyfriend had thought otherwise, however.
“What the fuck was that?” he hisses at you, barely above a whisper from the other side of the counter.
“What?” you ask back, fully not knowing what he was angry about.
“Were you trying to make me look stupid?” he says a little louder this time.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his tone worried you.
“You’re just gonna flirt with that guy right in front of me, do you think I’m an idiot?” his voice was rising in volume and you were starting to get nervous that the people in the café could hear you.
“Babe, I was just being nice, he’s working really hard,” your voice is back at a whisper, trying to encourage him to do the same.
“No, you always do this, you think you can make me jealous by being a fucking slut and flirting with every guy you see. Stop it, it’s not cute and it doesn’t work y/n,” his tone was abrasive and you could feel the eyes of everyone staring at you. You could feel tears well up in your eyes as his words burned into you.
“It wasn’t like that,” your voice cracked, “I promise it wasn’t like that.”
“Yeah, whatever you say,” he responds loudly and sarcastically as he slams his laptop shut and shoves it in his bag.
“Guess I’ll see you later,” his voice was still sharp.
You watched him stomp out of the small shop, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Tom had mouthed to you as your eyes made their way to him in the doorway.
“It’s okay,” you had mouthed back before running to the break room and begging Margret to cover for you as you cried in the bathroom.
This memory hit you like a ton of bricks as you saw Tom again, standing at the counter. Your ex had always been jealous like that. At the time you thought of it as “protective,” and “loving,” rather than seeing it as “possessive” and “manipulative.”
“She should be right over here,” you say a little slowly, your eyes not leaving his face. You were taking it in, the curve of his jaw and the angle of his smile, the same warm look he had given you all those months ago.
“Hey Anna, the carpenter is here,” you pop your head into the back room.
She shuffles out and greets Tom, shaking his hand quickly before showing him over to the area that needed fixing.
You sit blankly at your register, tending to the few customers who came in, somehow without taking your eyes off of Tom. Seeing him just reminded you of that day, reminded you of how your ex had humiliated you and made you cry, how he had been so rude and controlling.
Seeing Tom made something switch in your brain. Everyone was right. Fuck him. Fuck that guy and fuck what he had done to you. You were done crying over someone who would cheat on you, over someone who clearly didn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved. Everyone who was spewing clichés at you was right. You did deserve better.
Somehow through these thoughts, your hands had taken over while your mind ran in circles. Before you could even realize what you were doing, you were standing in front of Tom with a cup of tea and a blueberry muffin.
“Um,” you stutter out, not entirely sure what you were doing, “If I remember correctly, this is how you take your tea.”
His attention is pulled from the countertop, brown curs slightly pressed to his sweaty forehead, biceps filling out the sleeves of his shirt perfectly. Those perfect brown eyes boring into you once again.
“You remembered,” he said with a genuine smile, “that’s amazing, thanks a bunch love.”
You set the tea down next to him and stare for a second, not wanting the conversation to be over.
“You should hurry back though, if your boyfriend is here again,” he says quietly with a bit of concern.
“Oh,” you were taken aback, the implications of your action hitting you, “Oh, um, he, uh, we… aren’t together anymore. He doesn’t come here.”
“That’s a bit of relief then,” Tom says, putting down his tool belt and picking up the tea to blow on it, “that guy was a bit of a prick if I do say so myself.”
“Yeah,” you laugh a little, looking down at your feet, “bit of a prick.”
“This may be a bit out of line,” he takes a short sip before continuing, “but I didn’t like the way he spoke to you.”
“Not out of line,” you shake your head, “he was being an ass to you too, I’m sorry you were put in that awkward position last time you were here, I wanted to apologize.”
“Don’t apologize for a thing love, you’re much better off without him,” although he was essentially a stranger, his words seemed sincere.
“Ever since he cheated on me I feel like that’s all I hear,” you say with a laugh, your breath hitching in your throat when you realize what you had said. You weren’t really thinking, and this boy made you a little nervous, it had just slipped out.
“Oh, I- I’m sorry to hear that,” he said with a softer voice, “I-”
“Sorry,” you cut him off, “that was weird of me to say, you don’t even know me, sorry I’m like, dumping my personal problems onto you.”
You laughed nervously, wanting to clear the air. He looked at you with genuine sympathy. He had experienced first-hand how much of an ass your ex had been, and you seemed so sweet, remembering his café order and bringing it over to him when you truly didn’t have to.
“Thank you for the tea,” he said, taking another sip, “you smile a little brighter without him around.”
Your cheeks grew hot at his comment and all you could do was grin at him and scurry back to your position at the register. You bury your face in your hands, running through the conversation you just had over and over. You felt so stupid, yet at the same time strangely confident. The way he looked at you, smiled when you smiled, made your heart flutter. Were you imagining this? Was he just being nice?
You kept stealing glances over to where he was working. He would occasionally catch you and smile back, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his cheeks pink. You held your breath every time, wanting to go back over to talk to him. But you were at work, and so was he. So you continued to make lattes, and he continued to fix the countertop.
You start to clean up, throwing out old coffee filters and wiping down dirty tabletops. You start counting money in the register when you’re startled by a figure in front of the register.
“What do I owe you for the tea,” he asks, your face gets hot even before looking up at him.
“Come on, you know it’s on the house,” you respond with a smile.
“Now this isn’t fair,” he starts playfully, “you’ve given me two free drinks now. The gentlemen in me feels it's my responsibility to buy one for you now. It’s the least I can do.”
“You can make me a cup of tea anytime,” your response slips out before you can even filter yourself.
“In that case, let me know when you’re free. I’ve got jasmine, mint, earl grey, English breakfast…”
“I’m more of a chamomile girl,” you were completely unsure where this flirt was coming from, “you know, sleepytime tea.”
“In that case my flat is right around the corner,” he laughs.
“My shift ends in ten if you’re willing to wait around…”
“Yes, yeah, of course, I’ll be right outside,” he gestures out the door and hurries to gather his work tools.
Your eyes grow a little wide when you process what you had just said. Where was this found confidence coming from? Where the fuck could you find some more? And fast???
You finish cleaning up and hang your apron on the hook, giving a shout goodbye to your coworkers as you hurry out the door. Part of you hopes this had all been a joke and he would be nowhere to be found, the other part of you desperately looked for him in the parking lot.
A thud in your heart comprised of half relief and half panic hits as his hand waves to you from his car.
“Hey, you,” he calls over, “you still want that cup of tea?”
You jog over to his car and lean down to his open window, “I’m not sure London boy, I work at a café, I can make a pretty good cup of tea for myself,” there it was again, the flirty courage.
“Oh, but you’ve never had tea made by a real Englishmen, have you? You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”
“You make a compelling argument. Can I follow you to your place?” you nod over to where your car is parked.
“Sure thing, it's not too far from here.” He gives you a cheeky smile that makes the corners of your mouth turn up.
You can’t stop smiling as you hurry over to your car, starting it and not even bothering to pick out music before putting it into drive. Your mind starts whirling a thousand miles a minute as you follow his black car to his apartment. What the fuck were you doing? You barely even know this guy. But god, he’s so hot. And nice. And funny. Fuck.
Suddenly you’re parked next to him, turning the key and stepping out of your car in front of his building.
“Made it alright?” god, that accent. This boy was going to be the death of you.
“I’m Tom by the way,” he flashes you another one of those perfect smiles as you walk side by side to his building entrance.
“I know,” you realized how weird that sounded, “um, I know because you’re the carpenter we always hire,” you try to laugh it off, “I’m y/n.”
“Lovely to formally meet you y/n,” he opens the door for you, “I really appreciate all the free snacks you’ve given me. I always love doing business at your café. For more reasons than one.”
He presses the elevator button and stands close to your side as the two of you wait for the numbers to count down. You step into the small elevator, looking over at Tom as he presses the button of his floor.
“I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this,” he turns to you, “but that guy was a real dumbass for letting a girl like you go.”
“Thanks,” you can’t help but stare at the floor, “I’m not tired of hearing it as long as it’s coming from you.”
He laughs a little at your comment. He has a certain way of making you feel comfortable, of reassuring you with a laugh or a smile when you think you’ve said something stupid.
The elevator dings at his floor and he saunters out over to his apartment door. Your heart rate begins to pick up as he opens the door, not knowing what to expect. You walk in and take off your shoes and put your bag down on a coatrack.
He walks into his small kitchen and immediately puts on a pot of water. Part of you is relieved. He actually wants to make you tea.
“I moved to the states a little over a year ago,” he starts to rummage though his cabinet, pulling out boxes of tea, “everything is pretty nice here, except there isn’t really anywhere to get a decent cup.”
“Hey!” you protest, “I make alright tea.”
“Your tea is alright…” he jokes, “but its nothing compared to home.”
“That’s not fair,” you sit down on a stool across the kitchen from him, “it’s like apples and oranges.”
“Why can’t fruit be compared?”
You fall into an easy back and forth with him, finding the same things funny, laughing at each other’s comments and jokes. You can’t help but stare at his arms as he pours the hot liquid, at the way his tongue pokes out between his teeth in concentration.
“Here you go love,” he hands you a cup, “one genuine cup of tea made by a real Brit.”
You hold the cup in your hands but pay no attention to your own tea as he takes his first sip. You hadn’t flirted with anyone in so long. You didn’t have a reason to. This all felt strange and foreign to you, like you were thirteen again.
“Thank you,” you say quietly, still watching the curve of his jaw as he sipped his cup.
“What do you mean ‘thank you,’ you haven’t even tried it yet,” he gestures to your full cup.
“Not for the tea,” you bring your eyes to meet his, “but thank you for that too. I mean thank you for being so nice to me. For listening to me even though I’m so all over the place. I just… I just haven’t had anyone treat me like this in a really long time and I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Hey,” he brings a hand up to your knee, making you shiver a little, “you can thank me for the tea, but you don’t have to thank me for the common curtsey of being a decent person. You deserve to be listened to and taken care of, that you don’t ever have to thank me for.”
You feel your heart jump into your throat. You had never thought of that, of holding yourself to that standard. Your ex had been an ass to you time and time again, and you always came up with a reason as to why it was your fault. Even when he cheated, your mind went to what you had done wrong or how you could have been better. Fuck that. There was a boy right in front of you who was showing you what your worth was. Being treated like a true human being shouldn’t be rewarded, it should be expected.
“I-” your voice was caught in your throat, “you’re really nice. And cool. And you make really good tea.” You laugh, and he joins you.
“I would very much like to kiss you,” he brings his hand from your knee up to where your hand is placed on your cup, “I also think you are really nice, and cool, and although it is hard for me to admit, you make some good tea too.”
You lean over to him, tentatively waiting for him to meet you halfway. His hand moves up your arm to the side of your face, the skin of his palm was rough and warm against you. Your eyes slowly shut as he pulls your face to his, soft lips meeting yours.
Kissing him for the first time felt like the brisk ocean water hitting you with a wave. Sucking you under and pulling you back up, ice cold yet exhilarating. You pull away from the kiss, letting the wave roll back out to sea, the next wave close on the horizon.
You had never felt such a breath of fresh air, his lips meeting yours again and pulling you back in.
“Is this okay,” he whispers into you, hands cupping either cheek, tea long forgotten.
“Yeah,” you respond, wanting nothing more than to kiss him again, “more than okay.”
You can feel his body shift as he stands up from the stool, his chest coming closer to yours, his face leaning more into the kiss. Your hands make way up his arms, the perfect biceps that you had admired from afar in the coffee shop more than once before.
You press deeper into the kiss, addicted to the feeling of his lips on yours. You were getting pulled further and further in, and you couldn’t bother to look back. You let his tongue slip into your mouth as your hand dances up to his neck, playing with the curls that framed his face.
“Can we go to your bedroom?” you find yourself asking with eyes still closed, lips barely released from his.
“Mhmmm,” he mumbles into your lips, reconnecting them once again, seemingly as addicted as you, “only if that’s what you want, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” you respond a little too quickly, “I’m so fucking sure.”
His strong hands grip underneath your legs that dangle off the stool where you sat, slowly lifting you up to meet his height, legs wrapping firmly around his torso. Your lips never detach as he carries you down the hall, your tongue rolling against his in perfect harmony.
He places you delicately on his bed, cool sheets beneath your skin causing goosebumps to rise. You can’t get enough of the feeling of his hair tangled between your fingers. You run them up and down his scalp, gathering his locks in your hands as you go. He kisses you like he means it.
“I want you to know,” he whispers in your ear, a deep gravely tone, different and sexier than his speaking voice, “that I want to make you feel good, so much better than that guy ever made you feel.”
He juts his hips into yours, causing a moan to catch in the back of your throat.
“Please,” is all you can manage to say before lurching forward, meeting his open mouth with yours again.
His hands are rough and strong, feeling amazingly foreign as they make their way up your legs, dancing underneath the hem of your top. He presses his palms down into you, causing your back to arch into him as you kiss.
You take initiative to remove your top, to show him that you really want him. You toss it over your head, not bothering to notice where it lands. His lips dip down to your jawline, training kisses from the corner of your mouth down to the soft spot on your neck. His thumbs continue to rub soothing circles into the flesh of your torso, slowly making their way up.
You mimic his actions and detangle your hands from his hair to feel underneath his t-shirt. His skin was tight and warm and smooth under your hands. He was taking his time with you, moving slowly but with purpose.
You tug at his shirt, signaling that you wanted it off. He got your message and pulled it off by the back of the neck. You couldn’t help but stare with gawking eyes, you had truly never seen a body this nice so closely, let alone touched one.
He had a cocky smirk on his face, knowing well how hot he is. All you could do is bite your lip and laugh a little, completely unsure how you ended up in this amazing position.
“Manual labor does a body good,” he says with a chuckle before leaning back down to your chest, resuming his trail of wet kisses that were now dipping into the valley of your breasts.
“You’re telling me,” you comment back as your eyes flutter shut a little, feeling his thighs tense up underneath your legs.
He looks up at you for permission before pushing your bra up, kissing and nipping at your skin. He left red blotchy marks that caused a pool to form in your panties. Your hips continue to buck and roll into his, feeling his hardening cock press through his pants onto your leg.
He continues his journey south, taking pit stops to suck at the skin around your ribs, on your stomach, above your hips.
“Can I?” He asks before hooking his thumbs under the waistline of your jeans. You lift your butt to help him slide them off, head in a complete daze. His hands run up and down your legs as they had before, less barriers between you this time. He continues to kiss at the skin on your hips and down into your thighs as his hands slowly spread your legs open for him.
He spent time teasing and licking around your underwear, never quite moving in to where you wanted him most. Leaving a purple hickey on your thigh, he soothes it over with his tongue as he brings his hand up to your underwear, stroking up and down your slit through the fabric.
You cant help but twitch under his touch. He was moving agonizingly slow, and you could feel the dampness in your underwear soaking through to his fingers. Unexpectedly he licks a stripe up the cotton, mouthing at your lips through your underwear.
A breathy moan leaves your throat as your head rolls back, begging him to take them off. He slides a finger around the seams and runs it through your slick folds, loving the way you were already so wet for him.
He follows the row of red marks he had left down your leg again with his tongue as he slowly pulled your underwear down. Every time you looked down at him you felt yourself clench around nothing in anticipation.
Finally, you feel his warm tongue run from your inner thigh to your core, licking wide stripes up and down before dipping into you. His name leaves your mouth mixed with heavy breaths, your hands searching for his arms or his hair, or anything to grip onto as he licked slow circles around your clit.
“Holy shit,” you choke out as he slips a finger into you, curling it upwards perfectly.
You feel him smirk into you, knowing the effect he was having on you. You like his confidence, and the way he was taking his time, building your orgasm up slowly. A second finger joins the first curled up against your walls and your hips drag against his expert tongue.
Any worries you had were melted away, all your stress, your anxieties, your negative thoughts that seemed to haunt you more often than you would like, suddenly sunk away and all you could think was his name, over and over.
You feel your thighs push back as he presses his face deeper into you, licking and pushing his fingers in a perfect rhythm. He could feel your walls tighten around his fingers, knowing that your high was close.
“Fuck Tom, I’m-” you couldn’t even bear to finish your thought as your orgasm crashed over you, that perfect wave of pleasure pulling you out and pushing you back in. He knew just when to speed up and when to pull back, letting you ride out your orgasm on his face, lapping up your juices and kissing back up your thighs, finally meeting your face, two fingers remaining inside your pulsing opening.
“Holy shit,” you giggle out, “you’re really fucking good at that.”
“I told you I wanted to make you feel good,” he kisses into your neck, finally dragging his fingers out of you and running them softly up your skin, “and how can I not when you look so gorgeous like this.”
You manage to swing your shaky legs over him, moving on top to press your chest flat against his. Now it was your turn to leave open mouthed kisses all along his neck. That perfect jawline begging to be sucked on.
Your hand snakes down to his hard member, fiddling with the button of his pants.
“You don’t have to, if you’re tired,” he mumbles into you as you feel around in his pants.
“I’m yours, if you’ll have me,” you whisper back into his ear, finding his cock fitting perfectly in your hand.
He kissed you with a new hunger and passion, hands gripping at the roots of your hair and pulling your face into his as you slowly jerk him off. Low guttural moans growling in the back of his mouth as your tongue swirled around his.
He kicks his pants off, and you push the band of his boxer briefs down as well, exposing his perfect cock. It was pink and dripping precum, begging to be sucked on. You run your thumb over his tip, loving the way his body tensed under your touch.
You find yourself down between his legs, licking a long stripe up the underside of him. You swirl your tongue around his tip while making eye contact with him, his head tossing back once you finally sink your mouth down onto his length.
He had teased you relentlessly, so you decide to tease back. You jerk the base of him off slowly as you run your tongue in all sorts of patterns clockwise and counterclockwise around his sensitive tip, only sinking back down when he bucked his hips up into your mouth.
“Fuck, y/n,” his voice was weak, “can I fuck you, can I please fuck you.”
His eyes finally focus back down to meet yours, the sight of your lips wrapped perfectly around his cock make it twitch.
You detach your lips with a pop and give him a nod, taking your swollen lip in between your teeth. Suddenly his hands are on your shoulders, pressing you down into the mattress as he kisses you hotly, sucking onto your bottom lip.
He rubs circles on your clit with one hand as the other fumbles over to his bedside drawer to find a condom. You lay back with your legs pushed up for him, back arched, fully ready and open for him. He runs his rubber tip up and down your soaking folds a few times, making you beg for him before slowly pushing into you.
You moan into his neck, biting down on his shoulder to silence yourself as he bottoms out inside you. His slow movements give you time to adjust to his size before you meet his lips again with yours, telling him to fuck you harder.
One hand takes place on your inner thigh, pressing your leg into the mattress to angle you perfectly for him to fuck into you, the other remaining on your clit. He picks up his pace and starts thrusting deep and hard into you, properly fucking the shit out of you.
You could tell he liked it when you moaned his name and told him how good he was making your feel, always thrusting a little deeper when you would make noises. It wasn’t long before you felt the pit on your stomach grow hot again, threatening to spill over at any given moment.
“Please don’t stop,” you whine, “you’re gonna make me come again, fuck.”
Your eyes scrunch shut as he rubbed a little harder onto your clit, causing your walls to flutter around him, gripping his cock with every muscle you had. Your eyes roll back into your head, his mouth hanging wide open as he watches you come and writhe underneath him. He doesn’t let up on his pace, fucking you thoroughly through your second orgasm.
Your face was flushed and your jaw hung slack as you felt the waves of pleasure crash over you again and again, abdomen tensing up and letting go over and over. The look on his face could have easily made you come again, watching you intently as you shook with pleasure.
He moves his hand from your throbbing clit up to your face, cupping your cheek as he kissed you deeply, teeth grazing over your bottom lip. You felt your sweaty forehead press into his, eyes open and staring directly into his as he continued to pump inside of you.
“Tom,” you manage to say above a whisper, “fuck me harder, please, fuck, please.”
He leans back onto his knees, and with a swift motion, pulling out of you, he flips your leg over and places you on your stomach. Hands gripped tightly on your hips pulling them up slightly to meet his. He easily slips back into you, hitting a new spot inside you this time. You cry out into the mattress, moans silenced by his pillows. Your hands grasp tightly at the sheets, pushing back onto him as he takes you from behind.
One hand on your lower back and the other gripping at the flesh of your ass he fucked into you with incredible stamina and power. You couldn’t even imagine the fucked out expression on your face as he buried himself into you over and over.
You could feel his cock start to twitch and swell inside you, his thrusts becoming harder and more purposeful. With a final push, he presses hips flush to yours as he spills inside the condom
“Oh my god, y/n,” he groans out, rolling himself into you slowly as he continues to reach his peak. All you could do was press your ass back onto him and feel his warmth inside you.
After a few more profanities, he pulls out and discards the condom. He reaches down and helps you up, bringing your body to lay next to his, spooning you with an arm draped over your sweaty form.
You lean your head back onto his shoulder, looking back up at him through tired eyes.
“That,” you start to giggle, “was really fucking good.”
“Yeah,” he buries his face into your neck, taking in the smell of your hair, “I thought so too.”
He continued to hold you in his arms for a few minutes, allowing you both to relax into the post-sex bliss.
“I think… our tea is probably cold.”
You laugh at his comment and roll over to face him.
“Want me to make another pot? For real this time?” He asks, fingers still dancing up and down your skin.
“Sure,” you smile at him, “I’d like that.”
He gets up and throws his underwear back on, giving you a full view of his perfect body standing in front of you.
“You should pee and get cleaned up,” he suggests, “bathroom is just down the hall.”
You take a moment to stretch out and toss your shirt and underwear back on, making your way down the hall. You can hear him moving in the kitchen, and can’t help but replay the events of what just happened over and over in your head.
Slipping quietly out into the kitchen, you take your seat back on the stool, looking much more disheveled than you had when you sat on it earlier.
“You’re beautiful,” he says with unwavering confidence as he hands you another cup of tea. You blush at his comment and look down at the cup in your hands. You take a sip, letting the hot liquid coat your throat, dry and sore from moaning his name.
“Thank you,” you look up at him, “for the tea.”
“You’re welcome,” he laughs, “I very much like you, and would like to see you again. If you want.”
You smile and nod at him, happy that this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him. He rifled through a drawer, pulling out a pad of paper and scribbling his number down. He folds the paper in half and hands it to you over the counter.
After finishing your tea you get dressed and gather your things. He walks you to your car and kisses you before you open the door, lips lingering on yours.
“You’ll call me?” he asks, you assure him that you will.
“I’ll see you sometime soon,” you wave as he walks back to his building. You cant wipe the smile off your face the whole drive home, head on cloud nine. You twirl around as soon as you enter your apartment, dancing around to get rid of all your pent-up happy energy. You put your stuff down and go to get a glass of water, your cabinet creaking as you open it.
You didn’t want to seem desperate, but you immediately take out your phone, entering his number into your contacts. He had scrawled his name under the number with a little heart, making your smile spread wider across your face.
Hey, my cabinet door is squeaky: looking to hire a carpenter, know anyone good?
You hit send, hoping he thinks your message is funny and not desperate. Your stomach does a cartwheel as the three typing dots pop up.
Tom: I may know a guy… he can be over your place tomorrow at 6?
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starrybethany · 4 years ago
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Clayton Keller: Part 7
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Word count: 2077
Clayton and I spent the night catching up on all of the time we’ve been separated for the past week or so. When I wake up in the morning I’m utterly exhausted and my body is sore as hell yet I feel euphoric of a sort.
The arm wrapped around my waist feels familiar, even welcomed, and I lay with Clayton’s face buried in my neck with contempt. I’m staring up at the bare white ceiling as I feel him shift beside me, his grip tightening. He groans, the hot air touching my skin.
I don’t move my gaze from above me as he pulls back from my neck, his hand using my hip for support as he pushes himself halfway up to be able to look at me. The blanket falls down his chest a little bit, revealing his fit torso.
“Morning,” he greets me, his voice groggy from sleep.
“Good morning.”
He collapses back onto the mattress beside me, moving his head so that his head is touching mine. “What are you looking at?”
“Do you see that spider web in the corner?” I ask, lifting a hand lazily to point at it.
“Yeah.”
“I’m trying to figure out how to get it down. I bet you could get it for me,” I tease.
“So now I’m just here to do your manual labor?” He jokes.
“Come on, Clayton, just do it!” I whine. “You’re 5’10, you can reach.”
“I’m actually 5’11,” he corrects.
“That’s not what Google says.”
I turn my head at the feeling of his movements to find him glaring at me playfully, reaching over to tickle my sides. I giggle at the action, the giggles turning into screeches for him to stop because I can’t breathe.
“That should teach you to mess with me again,” he huffs, puffing out his chest proudly.
I roll my eyes. “Okay. Just as long as you pull that spiderweb down.”
We enjoy each other’s company silently, grateful for the rare morning where we just get to lie in bed beside one another. I can’t help but take this time to think about how my relationship with Clayton has evolved.
I still think that I’m too busy to be in a relationship- a relationship takes time and effort, too much time and effort for me to give right now. But there’s something interesting about Clayton.
Maybe it’s the way he makes me feel. He makes me feel giddy whenever he’s around, like I’m back in high school trying my best to act cool when my crush walks down the hallway I’m in. He makes me feel comfortable, like I can be myself when I’m around him and all he would do is cheer and support me.
Clayton makes me feel like no man has ever made me feel before.
But, at the end of the day that doesn’t matter. At the end of the day he’s the one signing my paycheck and we aren’t a couple, we’re actually in a contractually obligated agreement and life isn’t a Disney fairytale.
“Guess what?” Clayton whispers.
“What?” I whisper back. I don’t know why he or I am whispering. Maybe he’s afraid that if he speaks too loud, it’ll break whatever spell we’re both under.
“You let me stay over last night.”
“So?”
“Guess what else?” He continues.
“What?”
“That’s not allowed, according to our contract,” he points out.
I roll my eyes but my heart beats faster at his remark. I guess neither of us realized that last night after all of the strenuous activity that went down.
“Screw the contract,” I lamely respond, unsure and unconfident in other answers that I could give. I’m afraid of telling him that I liked spending the night with him, even if we’ve done it in his place it feels different doing it in mine.
It makes us feel like more of a couple, which we aren’t.
“Screw the contract?” He repeats, letting out a dramatic gasp. “But Y/N, that’s a legally binding document! I could tell my lawyer about this.”
“And your lawyer would say you’re just as much at fault, if not more,” I point out.
“Whatever,” he turns back to me, burying his face in my neck again. “He doesn’t need to know about this.”
The man begins to place light kisses up and down the column of my neck, slowly replacing them with stronger kisses, then begins to suck a hickey into the sensitive part of my neck.
I moan at the feeling, tilting my head to give him more room. My eyes flutter closed at the sensation. I know this is going to be a pain in the ass to cover up but it feels so good. Spending time with Clayton feels so good.
He moves until he’s gently straddling my body, brushing his hands up and down my sides lightly.
“Do you have anywhere to be today?” He asks quietly once he’s removed his lips from my skin.
“I have to meet my friends later, for lunch,” I breathe out.
“So we have all morning?” He inquires.
“We have all morning,” I confirm.
The grin on his face is one that I’ll never forget.
~
“Look at that smile, someone got laid,” Tyler jokes as I approach the table.
“And that new purse, holy shit,” Betsy adds, eyes widening at the sight of the Louis Vuitton bag on my arm.
“How can you afford that shit, I thought you were broke?” Tyler questions as I pull out the chair beside him, sitting down and resting my bag on the chair beside me. It’s too expensive to sit on the floor.
“You never told him, did you?” Betsy gasps.
“Oh man, I never did,” I groan, knowing that Tyler will dislike that he’s been left out of the loop.
“Never told me what? Y/N, are you withholding tea from me? You know that’s practically a crime, right?” He commands.
I roll my eyes at him. “So, I have a sugar daddy.”
“You what?” He exclaims, causing practically the whole restaurant to turn and stare at us.
“Quiet down,” I smack his arm, “Yeah, it’s been going on for like two months now. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”
“You forgot to tell me that you were getting laid and rich?” He raises his eyebrows, unimpressed.
The waitress drops by, an amused expression on our face, clearly overhearing our conversation. She takes our order before heading off to the back, allowing the conversation to resume.
“And look at that top, is it Gucci?” Betsy questions teasingly.
“You would know if it were Gucci, Betsy,” I respond. I’m not sure how to feel about all of the teasing. I like the nice things Clayton’s getting me, from the beautiful jewelry to the fashionable pieces of clothing, and even the money he’s giving me so that I can pay for school and rent.
But another part of me can’t help but worry about what other people are thinking. I wonder if anyone besides my friends have noticed my change from resale shop clothes to designer brands. And how they think that I got this money…
I’m not ashamed of having a sugar daddy. My body is made to make money and I’m doing just that, plus Clayton’s getting something out of this situation too, it’s not just me. But it’s definitely not something that I would tell my mom.
“So what kind of sugar daddy is he?” Tyler inquires.
“What do you mean?”
“Like does he need you to help him with his phone or change his bedpan or-”I scoff as Betsy bursts into laughter.
“He’s twenty two, Tyler.”
“Twenty two?” His eyes practically bulge out of his head. “What twenty two year old can afford to be a sugar daddy?”
“He’s an athlete,” the blonde informs him.
“An athlete? Is it a figure skater? Can you introduce me to Adam Rippon?” An excited smile shoots across his face.
“No, it’s not a figure skater, plus Adam Rippon has a boyfriend. He plays hockey for the Arizona Coyotes,” I explain.
“Arizona has a hockey team?” He sounds genuinely shocked.
“Why does everyone always ask me that?” I sigh.
“Well, that’s fun.” He gives me a supportive shove and I practically fall off of the chair. Sometimes he doesn't know his own strength.
The food arrives shortly after and we catch up with each other as we eat our meals. I find out that Betsy has a date in a couple of nights and we tease her about settling down and abandoning her wild years that she’s supposed to spend with us.
She gives us a “we’ll see how it goes” so we settle down.
“I’d love to meet your hot sugar daddy, if you’re up for showing him off,” Tyler tells me as we pay our bills and rise to leave the restaurant.
“We’ll see,” I respond vaguely. I’m not sure how I feel about Clayton meeting my friends. I’ve already met his friends and a couple of their partners, but that’s kind of bound to happen seeing as how he works with his friends.
And I go to a lot of his work events- the games- so I was going to meet his friends eventually. But to meet my friends, I’d have to plan a day where me, Clayton, and my friends will be at the same place for an extended period of time to get to know each other and chat.
He’s technically my employer, so that seems kind of inappropriate.
~
“I brought cookies, Christian.” I set the bag down on the counter, pulling out the package to proudly display the package of cookies I stopped by the store to buy.
“My trainer doesn’t allow me to eat cookies,” he states, staring longingly at the package in my hands.
“And do you listen to everything your trainer says?” I raise my eyebrows at him.
He hesitates but nods, causing Clayton to laugh. The brunette grabs my hand, tugging me towards his room. As we pass his roommate I lean closer to him and whisper, “Teacher’s pet.”
“Hey!” He shouts after me. I don’t have the chance to respond before Clayton closes his door, throwing himself onto his bed. I climb up beside him, curling up at the headboard.
“How was your day today?” He asks, voice muffled by the sheets he’s buried his head in.
“Good. How was your day?” I stare out his window at the beautiful desert sunset. Arizona really is a wonderful state.
“What did you do?”
“Um, I studied this morning after I left, then I went to lunch with Tyler and Betsy, then I studied some more and grocery shopping this afternoon,” I answer.
“You went to lunch with Tyler and Betsy?” He repeats, leaning up on his elbows.
“Yeah,” I begin to laugh, “I actually found out today that I never told Tyler about you.”
He gives me a toothy grin. “Really?”
“I guess I just never got the chance to tell him,” I confess.
“So you told him today?”
“Yep.” He moves up the bed until his head is in my lap. I absentmindedly twirl his chestnut strands through my fingers, watching as a car passes by.
“What are your friends like?” Clayton asks me.
“Didn’t you meet them at the bar the night we met?” I pause my movements, waiting for an answer.
“Maybe faintly? I barely remember that night,” he admits.
“Me neither,” I laugh. “But they’re basically just like me, except Tyler is gay and Betsy is prettier.”
“Not possible,” he mumbles.
I don’t respond, unsure of what would be an appropriate response.
“If you want to meet them, I’m having a party this weekend at my apartment. It’s a surprise birthday party for Tyler so everyone’s pretty much going to be wasted the whole night,” I say it before I realize that I’m inviting him.
It’s not that I’m worried that he won’t fit in, I know he will. He’s an attractive male in his twenties who has been to plenty of parties in his day. But I don’t know if he knows how truly wild my friends can get…
Plus, we would be crossing that boundary between sugar-daddy-and-sugar-baby and into, I don’t know, something more.
“I’d love to go to the party,” he accepts my invitation before I can overthink anything much longer.
We’ll just have to see how this goes.
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randomnumbers751650 · 4 years ago
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Long, unedited text in which I rant about comparative mythology, Joseph Campbell and his monomyth,
Back in 2012 I wanted to improve my fiction writing (and writing in general, because in spite of nuances, themes and audience, writing a fiction and a nonfiction piece shouldn’t be that different) and thus I picked a few writing manuals. Many of them cited the Hero’s Journey, and how important it became for writers – after all Star Wars used and it worked. I believe most of the people reading this like Star Wars, or at least has neutral feelings about it, but one thing that cannot be denied is that became a juggernaut of popular culture.
So I bought a copy of the Portuguese translation of The Hero of a Thousand Faces and I fell in love with the style. Campbell had a great way with words and the translation was top notch. For those unaware, The Hero of a Thousand Faces proposes that there is a universal pattern in humanity’s mythologies that involves a person (usually a man) that went out into a journey far away from his home, faced many obstacles, both external and internal, and returned triumphant with a prize, the Grail or the Elixir of Life, back to his home. Campbell’s strength is that he managed to systematize so many different sources into a single cohesive narrative.
At the time I was impressed and decided to study more and write in an interdisciplinary research with economics – by writing an article on how the entrepreneur replaces the mythical hero in today’s capitalism. I had to stop the project in order to focus on more urgent matters (my thesis), but now that I finished I can finally return to this pet project of mine.
If you might have seen previous posts, I ended up having a dismal view of economics. It’s a morally and spiritually failed “science” (I have in my drafts a post on arts and I’m going to rant another day about it). Reading all these books on comparative mythology is so fun because it allows me for a moment to forget I have a degree in economics.
Until I started to realize there was something wrong.
My research had indicated that Campbell and others (such as Mircea Eliade and Carl Gust Jung, who had been on of Campbell’s main influences) weren’t very well respected in academia. At first I thought “fine”, because I’m used to interact with economists who can be considered “heterodox” and I have academic literature that I could use to make my point, besides the fact my colleagues were interested in what I was doing.
The problem is that this massive narrative of the Hero’s Journey/monomyth is an attempt to generalize pretty wide categories, like mythology, into one single model of explanation, it worked because it became a prescription, giving the writer a tool to create a story in a factory-like pace. It has checkboxes that can be filled, professional writers have made it widely available.
But I started to realize his entire understanding of mythology is problematic. First the basics: Campbell ignores when myths don’t fit his scheme. This is fruit of his Jungian influences, who claim that humanity has a collective unconsciousness, that manifest through masks and archetypes. This is the essence of the Persona games (and to a smaller extent of the Fate games) – “I am the Shadow the true self”. So any deviation from the monomyth can be justified by being a faulty translation of the collective unconsciousness.
This is the kind of thing that Karl Popper warned about, when he proposed the “falseability” hypothesis, to demarcate scientific knowledge. The collective unconsciousness isn’t a scientific proposition because it can be falsified. It cannot be observed and it cannot be refuted, because someone who subscribe to this doctrine will always have an explanation to explain why it wasn’t observed. In spite of falseability isn’t favored by philosophers of science anymore, it remains an important piece of the history of philosophy and he aimed his attack on psychoanalysis of Freud and Jung – and, while they helped psychology in the beginning, they’re like what Pythagoras is to math. They were both surpassed by modern science and they are studied more as pieces of history than serious theorists.
But this isn’t the worst. All the three main authors on myths were quite conservatives in the sense of almost being fascists – sometimes dropping the ‘almost’. Some members of the alt-right even look up to them as some sort of “academic’ justification. Not to mention anti-Semitic. Jung had disagreement with Freud and Freud noticed his anti-Semitism. Eliade was a proud supporter of the Iron Guard, a Romanian fascist organization that organized pogroms and wanted to topple the Romanian government. Later Eliade became an ambassador at Salazar’s Fascist Portugal, writing it was a government guided by the love of God. Campbell, with his hero worship, was dangerously close to the ur-fascism described by Umberto Eco (please read here, you won’t regret https://www.pegc.us/archive/Articles/eco_ur-fascism.pdf).
“If you browse in the shelves that, in American bookstores, are labeled as New Age, you can find there even Saint Augustine who, as far as I know, was not a fascist. But combining Saint Augustine and Stonehenge – that is a symptom of Ur-Fascism.”
Campbell did that a lot. He considered the Bible gospels and Gnostic gospels to be on the same level. Any serious student, that is not operating under New Age beliefs and other frivolous theories like the one that says Jesus went to India, will know there’s a difference between them (even Eliade was sure to stress the difference).
But Campbell cared nothing for it. He disliked the “semitic” religions for corrupting the mythic imagination (which is the source of his anti-Semitism), especially Judaism. When I showed him describing the Japanese tea ceremony to a friend who’s minoring in Japanese studies, she wrote “I’m impressed, he’s somehow managed to out-purple prose the original Japanese”. So, it’s also full of orientalism, treating the East as the mystical Other, something for “daring” Westerners to discover and distillate.
What disturbed…no, “disturbed” isn’t the word that I need in the moment, but what made me feel uncomfortable is that, in spite of all his talk of spirituality, the impression I had of Power of Myth is that I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more materialist than him. Not even Karl Marx, founder of the Historical Materialism, was as materialist as Campbell.
At one point in the book, he was asked if he believed in anything and he gave a dismissive reply and said “I want to get experiences.” A man who studied all the myths of the world available, apparently didn’t believe in anything. Is that what spiritual maturity is? A continuous flux of experiences? Being taken by some sort of shamanistic wind like a floating plastic bag?
In nowhere in the interview he talked about virtues. In rebellion with his Catholic childhood, he said that we should go to the confessionary and say “God, I’ve been such a good boy”. Any cursory reading of the Gospel would say otherwise. Wasn’t this exactly Pharisee’s prayer in Luke 18:9-14? While the wasn’t the publican, who went with humility and asked for forgiveness, the one who walked out with an experience? And not only in Christianity, since in Tibetan Buddhism, a tulpa is something you have to kill, not foster like an imaginary friend like in some internet circles, contamined with this obsession with experiences.
The way I came to see Joseph Campbell as a man who was so stuck in his own world that nothing could move him out of it. All he wanted to do was this big experience, but in the end it’s as wide as the ocean, but shallow as a puddle. Even when Campbell speaks about having a “cosmic consciousness”, all that New Age jargon, claiming it’s about people discovering they’re not the center of the universe, it’s still so…self-servicing. It addresses a crowd so obsessed with experiences, but wants nothing to do with anything that requires compromise. He quotes the Hindu concept of maya, that life is an illusion, but I wonder how right he is about it.
I want to share this critique, by a researcher in comic studies: “We do not remember The Night Gwen Stacy Died because Gwen’s death reminds us of our own mortality, ‘the destiny of Everyman’, but because the story exposes the fragility of Spider-Man reader’s fantasies. Even icons can die.”
The exposition of the fragility of myths, especially the Hero’s Journey, never happens in Campbell’s work. It never talks about the potential of myths hindering entire societies, causing strife and causing people who can’t fit to become outcasts. Not even the cruel ones, like the Aztec death cult is treated as sublime, ignoring the fact that the Aztec neighbors helped to Spanish because they had enough of the Aztec myth.
I have changed my article. While I will still write on the hero entrepreneur, I’ll take a more critical view. The focus of the entrepreneur as an individual has many issues, because it ignores the role of public investment (necessary for high risk enterprises, like going to the moon or creating touch screens) and it treats with contempt the worked wage. Cambpell also treated with contempt the “masses”, who cannot be “heroes”. The theory on the entrepreneur is the same, treating the entrepreneur as a hero and the waged workers as lowlifes who have nothing to do, but to work, obey and be paid – to the point it feels like some economists treat strikes as crimes worse than murder. Not only that, but they can exploit the worker (see a book named “Do what you love and other lies about success and happiness”, it could be replaced with “Follow your bliss…”).
Campbell wrote in a time that there was no Wikipedia. So his book was the introduction of myths to a lot of people. It helped it was well-written. He considering his approach apolitical, but it’s clear that’s it’s not exactly like that (though this is a reason why Jordan Peterson failed to become the next Campbell, since he’s also a Jungian scholar, but he tried to become a conservative guru and this was his downfall). And, nowadays, Campbell is still inevitable in the circles that his themes matter, unlike Freud and Jung. Read it, but be aware of its problems, because it has already influenced what you consume.
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mithrilwren · 5 years ago
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Closed Hold
The long awaited next installment of the Shadowgast Figure Skating AU (inspired, as always, by the amazing art of @fiovske) is finally here! I don’t know if it’s cheating, since I was already planning to write this, but I’m also counting this as my submission for Day 7 of @essek-week because hey, it’s definitely an AU! :D You technically don’t have to read the first two works in the series - Inside Edge and 3 Turn - to enjoy this one, but some details may make more sense in context. Also, warning that things get a little NSFW by the end, in case that’s not everyone’s cup of tea! [Also on Ao3] [Find the whole series of one-shots in this AU here!]
(cw. implied past dub/con, chronic pain)
Essek never thought he’d find himself in a place where he could call sharing a hotel room with someone else ‘comfortable’. Yet here he is, sitting at a little table with his laptop open while Caleb slouches against the headboard, too engrossed in his novel to care for posture or dignity, Essek finds himself at ease in a way he didn’t know he was capable of - at least, not in another’s presence.
A bottle of wine sits open and half-finished by the tray on the nightstand, and every so often Caleb reaches over and takes a bit of carrot from the remains of Essek’s salad. He eats absentmindedly, the motion so regularly spaced that Essek can’t believe he’s aware of what he’s doing. He should find it disgusting, but not a single drop of dressing spills onto the sheets, and there’s something about the movement that’s almost mesmerizing in its steady, involuntary rhythm.
He almost wants to tell Caleb that they can order more food, if he’s still hungry. He doesn’t need to pick the scraps from Essek’s plate. But he knows enough now to say that the suggestion would be ill-advised - or rather, he knows enough now to say that he doesn’t know what Caleb’s reaction would be, and that is a good enough reason to be cautious. Slow steps have worked well for them in the last few months. There’s no reason to take unnecessary risks with something so delicate.
These evenings, where they share the same space - conversation - a good meal - are still difficult to come by. There are murmurings of renewed hostilities between the Dynasty and Empire, and orders from the Bright Queen to reduce contact while the situation cools, and fewer and fewer public spaces they could go where privacy would be assured. Essek is certain that some would find the idea of the two of them sneaking off to hotel rooms together, only to do nothing more illicit that talk the night away, an utterly unbelievable story. But truthfully, it’s only after long nights of competition that they find themselves in the same countries - much less the same cities - and neither has the energy for much else after so many hours at the rink.
And besides, this quiet time - where both are engrossed in their own worlds, but still close - it’s just as soothing as a calm bath, just as warm in his chest as a hot drink, and Essek wouldn’t trade it for any more exciting diversion.
Caleb stretches, the book’s spine knocking the top of the headboard as he curls backwards like a cat. As he settles once more, there’s an audible creak - not of the wooden bedframe, but of tendon against bone. Essek glances over again in time to catch a wince of pain in Caleb’s jaw, and his fingers pushing gingerly against the small of his back. Eventually, he flips on his stomach and resumes his reading.
“Are you alright? That sounded... unpleasant,” Essek says. Caleb doesn’t even look up from his book to reply.
“Sorry to bother you,” he says coolly, “I’ll try to keep it down.” A note of dry humour laces his voice, and as always, Essek’s heart lifts to hear it. They’ve gotten easier around each other, slowly but surely, and Caleb’s knife-sharp, often obscure wit is one of the greatest discoveries he’s made in the process.
Still, Essek’s concern isn’t assuaged. Caleb took a hard fall this evening - not so disastrous as to knock him out of the running, but ugly enough that Essek had ached in sympathy as Caleb picked himself up off the ice. If he isn’t bruised from calf to hip, which Essek quietly expects, he’s at least likely to have twisted something in his back from the awkward one-handed press he had to do, to get back on his feet in time for the next element.
“Did you stretch enough?” he asks. Caleb hums noncommittally, nose still pressed into his book, and Essek thinks back to the moments after Caleb’s routine finished. “I didn’t see Beau there this evening. Were resistance bands enough, or did someone else help you?” Again, there’s no answer except a grunt. Essek gets the sense he’s being purposefully ignored. “Caleb,” he says, more loudly. “Please tell me that you stretched.”
“Stop worrying,” Caleb says, flipping another page. “I did stretch.”
“Clearly not enough,” Essek chides, standing so he can better survey Caleb’s posture. Even prone on his stomach, he’s still favouring his right side. Not a good sign. “You need to take care of your body, or you’re going to injure yourself, permanently.”
Caleb shrugs. “I’m old, Essek - too old for this sport, according to most people. How much worse could it get?” A twinge of heat sparks in Essek’s stomach, something low but simmering to a boil, until his hands are clenched and his jaw clicks with the effort of not snapping.
“Worse,” he says, and at last, Caleb looks up. The rising frustration fades just as quickly as he clocks Caleb’s assessing gaze, and pivots to embarrassment at his own unguarded reaction.
They need to choose another subject, and soon is not quick enough.
“Just… will you let me help you? At least to work out the worst of it, before you fall asleep on that book and wake up with a cramp.”
Caleb’s eyes narrow. “You want to... help me stretch?”
Essek clucks his tongue at Caleb’s dubious tone. “I assure you, I’ve had many years of practice, and it’s always easier with a partner than with a band.”
Caleb’s gaze grows more distant, less like he’s looking at Essek, and more like he’s found a ghost at the edge of the room.
“...I know,” Caleb says, voice softer than before, but still, he doesn’t move from his place on the bed. Essek sits down on the other side, leaning closer, but not so close that his weight disturbs Caleb’s half of the sheets.
“Then let me help. It would set my mind at ease, at least.”
“Well,” says Caleb, with a small smile, still not quite meeting Essek’s eyes, “if it would set yours at ease… give me a few minutes.”
Caleb pushes himself up at last, closing the book while trailing a rather forlorn finger down its spine, as though saying a reluctant goodbye to an old friend. Then he walks to the hall between the two rooms of the suite, and begins jogging lightly in place.
Caleb’s warmup gives Essek plenty of time to consider his plan of action. He closely watches the muscles twist beneath Caleb’s long-sleeved tee and loose sweatpants, searching for a place to start. Pain in the lower back often stems from tightness of the hips, which is also one of the most difficult areas to stretch without help. Essek notices too that his shoulders still ride up to below his ears as he runs, creeping higher and higher with each footfall. That could use work, and maybe his obliques as well, if the side Caleb jarred today isn’t too bruised…
At last, Caleb finishes and returns, slightly more cherry-cheeked than before, but not huffing and puffing - just enough to get the muscles warm and limber.
“Show me what you usually do for cooldown,” Essek says, still seated on the bed, and Caleb launches into a series of standard stretches, ones that any skater has in their arsenal. Essek does notice the age difference between them as he watches, but not in a significant way. Caleb’s joints don’t bend with quite the same arc as they might have for a dancer ten years younger, but he’s still very flexible. His arabesque reaches past his head - though Essek notes a small tremor in the inside of his thigh as he holds the position, and there’s an unsteadiness there that concerns him. It could be hip tension, as he suspected before, but Essek worries-
But it’s one in a million chance, as it was for him. There’s no logical reason to believe the tremor is anything more than fatigue.
“That’s it,” Caleb says, rising back into a standing position after his final lunge. Essek presses his fingers to his lips, considering.
“Let’s start with your shoulders,” he suggests. “You have a good range of motion overall, but I’d like to loosen them up, the right one especially.”
He moves behind Caleb, bracing one hand on his left shoulder while placing a flat palm against the apple of the other, and begins to gently rock the joint in its socket.
It’s a position he’s quite accustomed to, having done the same for others on his team when he was far younger - back when he still had peers, rather than admirers. And yet, there’s something strangely more aware in coming back to the action as an adult. He feels the differences between his own body and Caleb’s keenly. Though Caleb is far from stocky - very few figure skaters are - the muscles beneath Essek’s hands are less lithe than his own. Broader, as though bred for a different purpose, and whittled down to their current lean shape. He wonders if Caleb grew up doing manual labour of some sort, a kind his body still remembers in form, if not in substance.
For the first few pushes it almost feels as though those muscles are getting tighter. Like Caleb is tensing, resisting the movement. Essek frowns.
“Breathe,” he instructs. Caleb, with effort, takes a deep breath, and the catching of the tendon finally releases with a soft click. The process goes much more smoothly after that, the joint sliding like butter in his palm by the end of the seventh rotation. He moves to the other side, and has no more issues.
As Essek steps away, Caleb swings his arms forward and back experimentally. “Better?”
“Much,” he says, smiling a surprised grin. “Thank you.” Essek nods.
“Of course.”
“Anything else?”
“Hips, I think, if that’s alright with you.”
He guides Caleb down to the floor and onto his back, and takes a position on his knees at his side. Though Caleb ordinarily has a few inches of height on him, from this position, he feels very high up. Caleb waits, motionless, as Essek hooks a hand under his knee and raises it up slowly, watching the microsmal twitches in Caleb’s expression for any sign of pain or discomfort as he pushes the leg up towards his chest. But Caleb’s eyes fall closed, and whatever resistance he had offered before, he lets Essek’s hands work now without any complaint, bodily or otherwise.
When he spies the first twinge in Caleb’s jaw, Essek slows his pace, but continues pressing, trusting his hands to feel when the resistance is too great. It’s a delicate balance; too little pressure, and the stretch does no good, but too much, and he risks injuring Caleb. He could strain muscles, even tear ligaments, if he’s not certain of how hard to push.
It requires a great deal of trust, he muses, to let someone do this for them. Since his days as a trainee, he has allowed few others to help him, unless they’ve proven themselves time and time again to understand the nuances of his own situation. Mirimm is one of the small number on that list, and his own mother, when she still had time for such things.
Who has Caleb - cautious, reserved Caleb - given such trust? He knows he’s seen Beau follow Caleb into the locker room at least once, so presumably her, but have there been others?
He presses one more inch. Caleb winces, but does not fight him. He remains perfectly still.
An awful, nauseating thought floats into Essek’s mind.
He lets the leg float gently down to the floor, bowing the knee out ever so slightly so that the joint has a chance to rotate, then removes his hands to his lap. Caleb cracks one eye open, looking up at Essek and raising an eyebrow, as if to say is something wrong?
Yes, Essek thinks, I’m afraid there might be.
“Caleb,” he says quietly. He does not want to ask this question. He must ask it. “Did… Did Ikithon ever-”
Both of Caleb’s eyes fly open.
“No,” Caleb says, the clipped syllable harsh, and it sounds believable, and Essek so wants to believe him. “Whatever you are thinking, no.”
Essek breathes out slowly. “Then this sort of thing-”
“I would not have done with him.” Caleb turns his head to the ceiling, staring up at the hospital-white plaster, and Essek is still very conscious of his height, so he leans back on his hands into an uncharacteristic slouch. “He was… he was not a hands-on sort of teacher, so to speak. He preferred to instruct, and trust the three of us to do as he asked.” Caleb falls silent for a moment. “With them, yes,” he says at last. “We did this sort of thing together, always.”
Astrid. Eodwulf. Names never to be forgotten, though Caleb has only spoken them aloud once. They are burned there, in Essek’s mind, along with every spare detail Caleb has told him of his past. He wishes, some nights, that he did not know. That he could exorcise the names from his memory, and the pain from Caleb’s as well. But at least the burden is shared between them now, and he has to believe that is better than the alternative.
Essek reaches out and pats Caleb’s ankle. “I’m sorry to bring it up,” he apologizes, and Caleb’s smile is acknowledging, and forgiving too. “Do you want to keep going?”
He’s gratified that Caleb seems to genuinely consider the question before answering. It gives him hope that he hasn’t, yet again, overstepped a line, one hidden beneath the layers of uncertainty between them he fears he’ll never fully unravel.
“I think so.” Caleb shifts his hips. “It was already feeling a little better.” He lifts his other leg, just slightly, and as Essek shifts around to take it in hand, he thinks again of trust. Of Caleb putting his body in his hands, believing he will treat it kindly, even when others have not. The warmth in his chest grows, and grows.
He presses down, and this time Caleb keeps his eyes open.
When Essek is satisfied that both hip flexors are as loose as they’re going to get without professional help, he asks Caleb to sit up, then kneels behind him. He leans his weight into the space between Caleb’s shoulder blades until Caleb bows, forehead touching his knees as he curls his arms beneath them. Already, Essek can see the difference in the fluidity of the movement from earlier, and he presses with his thumbs at various points of the lower back, pleased to discover that most of the tension there has been released. He guides Caleb back up, then prods at his upper back. The left side isn’t bad, but his right… Essek can barely go five inches without finding another knot.
This isn’t the result of a night or two of inadequate stretching after a competition. This is months, years worth of stress gnarled up beneath the skin and never adequately dealt with, if addressed at all. No wonder Caleb’s shoulders rise so high that the judges take off points for it. No wonder relaxing at all is a force of will. His body is wound so tightly that Essek barely needs to dig deeper than the surface to find the evidence.
“How long has it been since you’ve had a massage?” he asks, curious. Caleb’s incredulous little laugh ripples out beneath his palms.
“A very, very long time. That’s a kind of luxury I can’t usually afford.”
Essek wants to argue that it isn’t a luxury - that it is, in fact, essential to the proper functioning of a figure skater’s body. The benefits in terms of flexibility and mobility are incalculable. And yet, without sponsorships or other income, the calculation must be done.
How very far Caleb has managed to go, despite his lack of resources, continues to impress Essek, but scrappiness doesn’t equal a healthy body that will outlast the competitions to come.
“They have a spa here, downstairs,” Essek suggests. “It might be closed now, but I’m sure if I called the front desk-”
“No,” says Caleb, just as clipped, though his voice softens much more quickly than it did before. “Thank you. I don’t- it doesn’t appeal to me.”
“A massage?”
“The environment,” Caleb replies. “The table. All of it.” Essek doesn’t press for more details, sensing he’s hit upon another wall neither is eager to dismantle tonight. Caleb’s shoulders are already rising again beneath his hands. He smoothes them back down with his hands, not fully conscious of what he’s done until the motion is already complete.
“Would a bed be better?”
“What,” ask Caleb, glancing over at the bed, mere feet from where they currently sit on the carpet, “order up?” He chuckles again. “I think that you might have a harder time explaining that expense to your superiors than an extra plate of room service.”
“True.” It takes Essek far longer to offer the second suggestion, because even though he fully expects Caleb to refuse, he still has to work up the courage to speak it. “Or, I could try my hand?”
Caleb swivels, his face so close to Essek’s that his bangs tickle the tip of his nose. “...Oh?”
“I’m no professional, but I have some experience.” No need to explain more than that, about the hours spent frantically massaging his own legs in the bathroom, willing the cramps to release in time to make it onto the ice. He knows that he can coax a bitterly stubborn muscle into functioning, and Caleb’s would be far easier than his to manage.
And still, he’s nervous in the seconds after speaking - not for fear that he can’t do what he’s offered, but that Caleb will say no, and be upset or offended.
That he will say yes, and the place that leaves them.
“...Ok.”
Caleb stands, then turns back to Essek, who still kneels on the floor. His hands flutter nervously at the hemline of his shirt, first tugging up the fabric, and then letting it fall back down. “How do you- I’m not sure what the procedure is. What do you need me to do?”
Essek swallows, fighting down the lump of anxiety in his throat. He pushes himself to his feet, and tries hard to project his usual air of confidence, one he does not currently feel.
“It would be easiest if you took off your shirt - if you’re alright with that, of course. I have some oil in my bag.” He goes to fetch the bottle from the other room: massage is still an essential part of his travel regimine, and he keeps it with him at all times. By the time he returns to the bedroom, Caleb is still standing where he was before, but now barechested, clutching the discarded shirt in his hands. Essek pauses at the doorframe, momentarily caught off guard, then shakes himself and continues on.
“Lie on your front.” Caleb does, still watching Essek as he approaches from the corner of his eye, and the look in his eyes is apprehensive.
Essek can feel it too - the difference now. The tension in the air that wasn’t there before. What they did for the last fifteen minutes was accustomed. They’re both athletes, used to having their bodies maneuvered by others for very specific purposes. The practice of guided stretching, while still sensual in the more general sense, doesn’t carry the same implications for them as it might for those outside their world.
But as Essek sinks down onto the side of the bed, and as he ghosts his cool hand over Caleb’s skin and watches the goosebumps rise at his almost-touch… he realizes this is something different entirely, and that they’re both aware of it. Caleb turns his face into the mattress, out of embarrassment, maybe, Essek can’t quite tell, but he knows his own face is burning just as bright as the flush creeping down Caleb’s neck.
It’s intimate, to a degree that frightens Essek more than it excites him.
“A little closer,” he murmurs as he sets the bottle aside and warms a generous squeeze of oil between his palms. Caleb shuffles over far enough that their hips brush, and Essek leans forward and places his hands in the shallow plane between Caleb’s shoulders. The skin there is pale, and freckled, and he traces lines between the marks with his fingertips before running them down the length of Caleb’s spine with one smooth stroke.
Up and down, he moves his fingers through the hollow places of Caleb’s back lightly, not pressing yet. For now, his only aim is to warm the oil further, and to make sure Caleb is comfortable and relaxed. And that when he finally leans over and begins the massage in earnest, his heart will have calmed sufficiently that Caleb won’t be able to hear it beating through his skin.
It’s not as if they’ve never touched before. This is not their first kiss, nor even their first fumble in the dark. But it had been dark, those times. Here, in the dim glow of the lamps over each nightstand - here, in a hotel room only they share, with trays of food set aside and Caleb’s toothbrush by the bathroom sink - here, where he can’t pretend the depths of his feelings aren’t evident to anyone who would dare look - he can’t see Caleb’s face, but he can see his own hands, and what they’re doing, and how much he wants to keep doing it.
He wants this. He wants Caleb under his hands, breathing out slowly as Essek’s fingers find the hidden spots within him where pain festers, and begin to work in slow circles, drawing out gasps of discomfort as Essek presses deeper, and deeper, and deeper still. Caleb arches his back and he runs his other hand down his shoulder, comforting him in a way Essek wasn’t taught, but what he learned to do for himself, when his own agony became too great to bear. A muscle shudders beneath his knuckle, spasming involuntarily, and he watches chills run down the nape of Caleb’s neck: raised goosepimples of referred pain. He knows that sensation well. If one part aches, the whole of the body is affected. You might never be able to name the true source of the pain.
At last, the first knot loosens, and Essek eases off. Caleb visibly melts into the mattress as the pressure releases. “My apologies,” Essek whispers, and even so, his voice sounds too loud for the intimate space they’ve created in this room. “I’ll try to be gentler on the next one.”
“It’s alright,” mumbles Caleb. “I can take it.”
They’re not unaccustomed to pushing through pain, the two of them. One cannot be a figure skater and not learn how. One cannot have lived through what they have lived through, and not be an expert in the subject.
“Alright,” Essek says, “I’m starting again.”
He goes over each half of Caleb’s back in quadrants, feeling for the places where the muscles draw together and kneading the tension out. Each time, Caleb tenses, but as soon as the knot releases, his bones become looser, his body sinking deeper and deeper into the bed and his breath coming in slower intervals, and though at first every wince was followed by screwed-tight eyes and clenched fists, by the time Essek finds the last problem spot, his expression has slackened to something almost dreamlike.
“Caleb,” Essek murmurs. “Are you awake?”
“Mm,” Caleb hums. “Yes.” His voice is lower than Essek has ever heard it before.
“Shall I continue?”
Caleb hums again. “I wouldn’t complain.”
Essek smiles at that, adding a little more oil to his palms and returning to his earlier broad strokes. Caleb’s shoulder blades shift more freely under his hands now, the muscles relaxed and uninhibited. He raises the arm that lies closest to the bed’s edge experimentally, testing the range of motion and watching the way the shoulder glides easily in its socket. Encouraged by a tap on his side, Caleb shuffles a little more towards the bed’s edge, and Essek slides off it. He pulls Caleb’s wrist out until the ligaments are stretched to their fullest extent, then lays the arm back in place at his side. Ideally, he’d want to do the same for the other arm, but Caleb looks so peaceful now, half-asleep in the sheets, that Essek is reluctant to force him to reposition.
He’s not unaware of the scars exposed by their current situation, and no more so than in this moment, as he gazes down at the roughened brown and white patches in the space between wrist and elbow. He’s glimpsed them before, and he knows part of their story, can even guess at the rest. But not tonight. Not here. This isn’t the time for more questions. He doesn’t need to know more than that Caleb is with him, and that he trusts Essek enough to do this, despite his history.
Essek has caused his own share of hurt. He has done selfish things, with no other purpose than to advance his own career. He has been cruel, and uncaring, in order to achieve all he has in his life. But Caleb trusts him, and that is enough to make him desperate to live up to his expectations, unrealistic as they may be.
When he’s satisfied with the rest of the back, only the neck remains. Caleb’s hair is still pulled into the remnants of his elaborate show ponytail, but as usual, bits have begun to fall out. Essek sweeps aside what strands have caught in the oil, caught off guard by how soft it remains. Most skaters with hair as long as Caleb’s cake their hair in hairspray before competition, to prevent loose ends and flyaways. Even Essek’s hair, so carefully gelled at the beginning of the day, would likely crunch like fresh snow under another’s hands. But Caleb’s hair is loose, and just slightly curled at the ends, and for a moment, Essek’s mind flashes with a vision of pulling the tie fully free. Of running his fingernails against Caleb’s scalp, of feeling those auburn flames pour between his fingers, of leaning down and pressing his lips to the place below the ear where hair and skin meet and breathing deep of hotel soap and his own shampoo and Caleb-
He startles out of the daydream with a small hitch of breath. This is not what this is about, he reminds himself sternly. Essek panting after him like a schoolboy is not what Caleb needs. He may ache to try all things new and unexplored, all the things he never thought he would have the chance to experience, but he is, as always, in control of himself. He has to be, or it will all go wrong. In what way, he does not know; the things he fears are undefinable, but that does not make them less of a yoke around his neck.
Essek runs the pads of his thumbs along the spot where he’d just been imagining his own lips pressing, smoothing out a path to Caleb’s shoulders. He takes care not to let his other fingers encircle Caleb’s throat, and so they bat like moths around the empty air, without a place to land. Caleb arches up again, but this time the noise is pleased, rather than pained. Essek shifts his hips, reminding himself again that this is not the situation they’re in. That he cannot read too much into the sound. That he should never assume what Caleb has not explicitly agreed to.
There isn’t a part of the back before Essek left untouched by oil, though the lower parts are drying, leaving the skin tacky but still warm from friction. Essek does one last assessing stroke with the flat of his hands, and finds nothing remaining to fix. He sits back, and considers what to do next.
With Caleb on his stomach, there has been a safe screen of separation between the two until this point. Essek did not need to work hard to hide any reaction of his to the experience, other than in his voice. But there are still muscles on the front of Caleb’s shoulders to work, and an incomplete massage can be worse than no massage at all. He doesn’t want to leave anything tight enough to pull his back muscles out of alignment again.
But then Caleb may see him, and know.
Know what, again, he cannot say.
It takes a few taps on the shoulder to rouse Caleb from his comfortable state, and even then his words are slurred with pleasant doziness. “Do you need me to move?” he mumbles, before pressing his face back into the mattress.
“I’d like to finish your shoulders from the front, if that’s alright.” Caleb murmurs his assent, but makes no attempt to move from his current position. “You’ll… need to roll over. For me to continue.”
Caleb grumbles good-naturedly, but does manage to turn himself over, immediately flinging one hand over his eyes to block out the - thankfully, dim - light. Essek starts to reach for his wrist, meaning to maneuver it back down on the sheets, but after a moment of thinking, he instead reaches over and grabs a pillow from the other side of the bed. Essek tugs the pillowcase off and tosses the pillow itself to the floor, then folds the fabric neatly into a band, which he lays over Caleb’s eyes.
“Thank you,” Caleb murmurs, and another thrill goes through Essek’s body. He can see Caleb’s mouth moving now when he speaks, his lips that are slightly parted, soft and unconcerned as he breathes in and out, as his chest rises and falls with the same rhythm. Essek has never dared to look so long.
He chides himself again. Caleb is blind in his current state, and any unnecessary stares on Essek’s part are as good as leering in this context. This feeling, of towering over someone… it isn’t something to enjoy. He’s always relished the feeling of control, of being above the rest. But with Caleb, Essek is an equal, and so when he offers him control, Essek cannot take pride in having earned it. He can only fear betraying the trust he’s been given.
Essek starts again on the massage, letting the discomfort flow out of himself and into the motion of his hands. With every breath Caleb takes, his collarbone rises to meet Essek’s palms, and he bites the inside of his lip, and keeps his own breath steady, and his eyes focused on the task at hand. His body is a distraction, but one he is proficient at ignoring.
The front takes far less time than the back. Caleb is so loose by now that his muscles want to follow Essek’s lead, and do so without complaint. The only stir Caleb gives is when Essek’s hands stray too close to his windpipe, but even then it’s more a twitch than a flinch, and Caleb settles back down immediately into his previous boneless state once the fingers retreat.
Essek has kept his eyes in line until this point, but in a moment of weakness, he lets them wander down the expanse of Caleb’s chest - slim, but defined muscles, skin waxed smooth save for the trail of hair that runs past his navel, and there, yes - a bruise along his side, as ugly as Essek expected, but already beginning to yellow at the edges. He carefully avoids it as he runs his hands down Caleb’s sides, drawing trails of oil like paint strokes all the way to his hips, just shy of the band of his sweatpants. Caleb shivers, and that’s when Essek notices, though he tried so carefully not to put himself in the position to.
Caleb is hard. The bulge isn’t obscene, but noticeable, and impossible to ignore, once Essek makes the realization. His mouth goes dry, hands stuttering to a stop halfway back to Caleb’s shoulders.
Of course, he knew it was a possibility, that Caleb might be affected in the same way… touch is a powerful thing, even absent of desire, and he knows that Caleb does desire him, at least under some circumstances…
“Are we finished?” Caleb asks without moving his head, sounding regretful, but not displeased.
He must be aware of it. How could he not be, of his own state? But he hasn’t said anything. Hasn’t made any effort to hide it, or to call Essek’s attention to it, as though he’s simply unbothered whether Essek knows or not.
What courage that must be - to accept that others see you, without any shame.
He… he wants to find that courage as well.
Essek reaches up with one hand and removes the folded pillowcase from Caleb’s forehead. Bleary blue eyes squint up at him, half lidded against the light. The other hand, he moves to the sharp bone of Caleb’s hip, fingertips just skimming the edge of the bruise, and then the place where Caleb’s waistband pulls away from his skin. He waits until he’s sure Caleb is looking at him before he speaks.
“Do you want me to go lower?”
He brushes his fingertips again at Caleb’s waistband, so that his meaning is clear. And even still, he hesitates to do it, unsure he’ll be able to go through with the offer, regardless of Caleb’s reply.
He is still so uncertain, about so many things.
“...I wouldn’t complain,” Caleb says, echoing his previous words with a wry smile. It’s that smile, that humour, that utter expression of ease... he only realizes in hindsight, that that was the only thing that would have convinced him to move forward. The only way he would have been alright with it.
“A word, and I will stop.”
“I know.” Caleb’s eyes have already begun to drift closed again, but they open once more when Essek taps him on the shoulder.
“And still, I’ll say it again. A word.”
Caleb’s humoured smile shifts to something softer, almost fond, and he lifts one hand to cover Essek’s and pats it gently.
“I know my limits. You can trust me to say how much is too much. Right now, I am happy for more.”
“...Then I’m happy to give it.”
Moving to Caleb’s other side so he can recline on the bed as well rather than perch at the edge of it, Essek gathers what oil hasn’t yet dried on Caleb’s skin in one hand and reaches down past the waistband, fingers grazing through a thicket of coarse hair before settling on heated flesh. Essek draws Caleb out, grateful that his eyes are closed, so he can’t see the full extent of Essek’s embarrassment. His experiences prior to Caleb had been… limited - which is to say, non-existent - and even if this is not the first thing they’ve done together, he still finds himself impossibly shy, when it comes to it. For lack of anything else to concentrate on, he returns again to Caleb’s hair, leaning forward on one elbow to touch the tresses spooled across the pillow, as his other hand begins to move up and down.
Some of the curled tips are still damp with oil, but most of it is dry, and fans out in a beautiful array of red and copper highlights. He follows their path to the crown of Caleb’s head, where his bangs are swept to one side, not hanging over his eyes. Though his other hand is on Caleb, he’s still seized with the impossible, unfullfillable urge to touch. To be closer than they are, closer than they could ever possibly be. He threads his fingers into the hair around Caleb’s forehead, dragging his nails gently against the scalp, and Caleb tilts his head back into Essek’s hand.
Caleb’s lips part, but his breathing isn’t ragged or hurried. It’s still slow and relaxed, if a little heavier than before. His eyes are closed, but not held shut tight. His shoulders stay where they are, content to remain immovable after Essek’s ministrations, and his mouth still holds a little smile at the edges, and his face, a softness, like what Essek is doing is just another part of the massage.
The atmosphere isn’t even particularly erotic, Essek realizes, and realizes too that the lack of gravity in Caleb’s response is settling his own nerves. There are no shouts of ecstacy or scrambling hands, no open mouthed devouring kisses, or desperation, or even lust. Just… comfort. Just pleasure, without expectation of rapturous release. Just being together, in this way, because they want to be. Because it feels good to be.
Caleb’s shoulders only begin to tense near the end, and even then it’s easy to coax them back down, so that when the final moment comes it’s with a long, slow exhale, and a body more relaxed than before. Essek’s right hand stills, but his left keeps on stroking Caleb’s hair, until at last Caleb’s eyes open.
“I’m very tired,” is the first thing he says.
“I can tell,” Essek replies fondly, then lowers himself down to the mattress, so that they’re at eye level when Caleb turns his head to him.
“That was wonderful.” Caleb smirks. “You have been holding back your skills from me. What else are you hiding, I wonder.” Essek chuckles softly, and Caleb nudges forward and presses a tender kiss to his mouth. “I should treat you as well, hm?”
Caleb turns his body to Essek, reaching down between them to tease at the drawstring of Essek’s leggings before hooking his fingers into the waistband and beginning to slide them over-
Essek jerks to the side, catching Caleb’s hand before it can go any father.
The lights. The lights are still on, and Caleb will see-
“Essek?” Caleb asks, eyes confused.
“You should relax. You said you were tired,” Essek says, and Caleb shakes his head, and begins to move his hand again.
“I’m happy to-”
“Don’t.”
Caleb stops this time for good, and Essek sits up quickly, pulling at his waistband to make sure not a single inch of skin is showing.
“Essek-”
“I trusted you to know your limits. Trust me to know my own.”
There’s nothing but silence for as long as Essek can bear to look away, and when he finally turns to look at Caleb once more, he expects to find frustration in his eyes, or annoyance at Essek for having soured the mood.
Instead, Caleb’s expression is one of quiet understanding.
“Of course,” he says, and sits up too, so they’re at eye level again.
He wants to apologize, but can’t bring himself to, so he sits there, staring at the floor and saying nothing.
At last, Caleb gets off the bed.
“I should shower again, get cleaned off.”
Essek nods, eyes still on the carpet, until his vision fills with the sight of a kneeling Caleb, his face impossibly close.
“Thank you,” he says, “for telling me.” Caleb cups his chin and leans forward, kissing Essek gently on the cheek. The ice in his bloodstream begins to thaw, in slow waves. “Take some time for yourself. I’ll come to bed soon.”
Then he’s gone, and Essek stares off at the light from under the bathroom door for a good few minutes before folding over onto the mattress. The heat of Caleb’s body hasn’t yet faded, and Essek curls into the warm spot where he lay, and pulls the sheets over his shoulders.
He lets the tactile comforts that remain - the smell of oil, the warmth of the blankets, the sound of running water - seep into every part of him, and waits for Caleb to return.
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just-horrible-things · 5 years ago
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Story: Mina and Marten [Next]
[My own take on Whumpers-R-Us, the Box Boys™, and YouTube whump. I have a bunch of ideas, but this might be kind of slow burn, so let’s see how far I get, I guess.]
---
Unboxing - HUGE SURPRISE!!!
“Hi all, and welcome as always to my channel!
“I got a huge surprise this morning! I think I’m still in shock, haha! You might notice that this video’s a bit rough around the edges. I’m sorry about that, peeps, but I haven’t had time to edit properly and I just had to get this out to you ayy-sap!
“First all, I guess I have to say a huge thank you to whoever sent me this morning’s surprise. You know who you are! Now, uh, well, I’ve got a few reservations, because, well, this is kind of a crazy thing to buy for someone without any warning or, like... asking first? But I know these things are crazy expensive, so I guess I should be pretty grateful! I’d never be able to afford it myself -
“Actually, I’m kinda worried about the upkeep! I’m gonna have to lean pretty heavily on all my wonderful Patreon supporters - names at the end, like usual - and maybe cut back on some of my big buys. But then again, I know these things are all the rage right now, so maybe this’ll bring in the new subscribers, fingers crossed!
“But anyway, that’s enough teasing, haha! I know you peeps are dying to see my surprise, so let’s get to it. Again, I’m sorry about the kind of rough quality, but you’ll see pretty soon why I was in such a hurry!”
[Cut to handheld footage of Mina in her pajamas, with wide eyes and a slightly strained grin. She is hurrying down the stairs as she speaks to the camera.]
“Oh my god.”
“Oh my god, what do I even say! This is going to be one hell of an unboxing! Oh my god. Just- just look at this!”
[The camera rotates to show a large wooden crate branded Whumpees-R-Us]
“I can’t believe there’s a human person in there! Oh my god. Should I get the good cameras? I can’t get this up the stairs. No, I’d better get started right away! Sorry peeps, you’re gonna have to keep watching through my phone! Let me just...”
[The view shakes and swings around, then stabilises to show a good angle on Mina and the box.]
“So I grabbed the craft knife and the scissors while I was upstairs, so let’s get started!”
[Mina cuts away the straps holding the box closed, and carefully lifts the lid to peek inside. She glances round, and lifts it away altogether to show the camera.]
“I guess this layer is all the paperwork? We don’t care about that right now though, so I’m just gonna toss this aside.”
[Mina removes several plastic-sealed documents from the box and tosses them out of the camera’s view. She removes a cardboard divider and sets it aside, then begins removing handfuls of packing material.]
“Oh! Ohmygod I just touched skin. Oh wow, oh my god, you guys do not know how weird this is! I guess I’d better get him out of here pronto - is it a him? Oh my god I don’t even know! Who sends this kind of thing?”
[Mina leans over the edge of the crate to take the product under the arms and lift. The product is limp, head hanging, but takes a deep breath as its mouth clears the packing material.]
“Oh wow, you’re so light! I was scared I wasn’t gonna be able to lift you, but I guess they got me a little one - like me, huh? It sure would be weird to be smaller than, um. Wow.
“Ohh, what’s this? Hang on, lemme just show the camera...”
[Mina shuffles sideways, turning the product so that the camera can see the quick-start instructions taped to its chest. The product whimpers softly, head flopping against Mina’s torso.]
“Quick Start. Oh, I guess I better read this bit. Let me just lean you back like this so I can read your instructions... Back in two ticks, peeps, you don’t wanna watch me stumble over this!”
[The video cuts forwards. The product is still in the box, leaning back against the side of the crate. Mina is crouched down beside it, and has placed a glass of water on the floor nearby.]
“Okay, so, I gotta get this hood off first... the instructions say it’s to keep them calm during transit? I don’t really get how that works, but I suppose I’ll have to read the manual later. Wow, this is a lot of clips and clasps and stuff. Hold on peeps, you’d think I’d be good at this by now, but noooo... They sure know their fasteners, haha!
“There we go, let’s just eeease this off - haha, I guess you count as fragiles! Oh wow. You’re gonna need a bath! First impressions, sweet viewers, is this: my new, uh, Box Boy smells sweat-y. I guess that’s my fault for taking so long to get up and check the mail this morning!
“Alright, hun, let’s show your pretty face to the camera... Actually, scratch that, I’ll go get the camera. Uh.”
[The video cuts to a closer view of the flushed and shivering product. Mina’s face is out of view, but her hands are visible as she lifts the product’s head and tries to hold the glass of water to their lips.]
“Hey, hey, hun, are you awake in there? You gotta drink this, your instructions say so.
“Oh- oh no-! Don’t drown-!
“Uh. Um. Oh, oh sugar. Is he broken? Did I leave him too long, is he gonna die? What do I do, he isn’t drinking!
“Hang in there, I’m just gonna check the internet a minute.”
[Another cut. Mina is now holding the edge of a wet tea towel against the product’s mouth.]
“Okay, so, uh. I looked this up, and the internet says if you can’t get a person to drink - or, I guess, a Box Boy - you should do this. So, uh, I don’t know how long this is gonna take, but I guess I’ll be here a while.
“Oh, oh did you catch that! He moved, look, he moved his lips, I think he’s swallowing. Oh, poor sweetie. I hope you’ve got a good view from there, peeps...”
[Several more clips play, from various angles, of the product sucking water weakly from the wet tea towel. Eventually its eyes open.]
“Oh! Oh, you’re awake! Woah, easy there!
[The product convulses as it attempts to sit up, then lies still, watching Mina.]
“That’s right. You want some more water, hun? Can you drink from the glass yet? Oh, I’m so glad, I thought you were gonna die...”
[Mina holds the glass of water so that the product can drink. When the glass is empty, the camera pans around the product’s face briefly to show it from all angles.]
“Alright, okay, um. Um. So, the next thing I’ve gotta do is take him to the bathroom, so I’m gonna turn you peeps off for a bit. No one wants to see that, haha! Oh my god, do I have to take him every time he needs to pee? I sure hope not! Wow, uh, well! This has been quite the unboxing so far, I’m sure I’ll be back with you shortly!”
[Cut back to Mina in her studio.]
“So as you can see, I got a bit worried there for a while, but don’t worry, he’s in good condition! I got him all cleaned up, he did his, um, business, drank a whole lot more water, and then went straight to sleep. The instructions say I should get him to eat within twelve hours, but he didn’t seem to want to, so I guess I’ll wake him up and try again later.
“He’s pretty cute sleeping! Take a look!”
[A brief shot of the product asleep. It is stretched out supine on Mina’s bed, atop the pillow. Its eyes are closed and its face is slack.]
“I’ve got some footage of the rest of the unboxing too, but the angles are pretty bad and, um, I’m afraid there’s no sound. I might have been a little bit panicky, and I’m sorry peeps, but I’m too embarrassed to share! You can watch me unfold him and try to get him up the stairs right after I say thank you to all my supporters!
“I’ll be uploading this pretty much as soon as I’m done recording because oh my god, how often do you get a surprise like this! But I’ll try to make up for it with lots more footage once he wakes up. I’m gonna set up the good cameras, right after I take a look at all the paperwork. I’m gonna need a wider angle than usual, so I guess you’ll be seeing a lot more of my room, haha!
“As always, I wanna thank every single one of you, but especially...”
[Next]
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chocnat · 4 years ago
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Coffee and Chaos | Loki x Reader one-shot
So I joined @the--sad--hatter​ ‘s Tea Party Challenge for her birthday and I chose to write for Loki (of course ehehehe). Advance happy birthday, Kara!
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Title: Coffee and Chaos
Words: 1,453
Notes: non-gendered reader; also available in AO3
Summary: You were sent to a mission with the God of Mischief. One morning you woke up to Loki bringing the mischief to you and you haven’t had a cup of joe to deal with it.
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A STRONG BLAST WOKE…no, tossed you from the bed. You opened your eyes and grabbed the pistol sitting on the bedside table. You checked the time: it was 4:26 AM. You yawned but a round of bullets floors below rattled the sleepiness from you.
You scanned the room and found the other bed empty. Where the hell is Princey?! You thought as you moved from the side of the bed to the door. You opened the door just in time for a startled Loki to barge in and fill the room with a shimmer of green mist. "What is happening?" You asked urgently.
He looked at you, panic written all over his face. A panicked Loki was not a good sign in the morning - or anytime. “We need to leave. Now,” he commanded as he paced the room and peeked at the window. You two heard trucks screeching into a halt outside the apartment building you two were hiding.
You picked up your bag. “Can you at least tell me what’s happening?” You demanded, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “I was tossed out of bed, you barged in here like death’s after you, and I even haven’t had a cup of coffee yet!” You ranted as you inserted magazine reserves on your belt.
He stopped on his tracks and turned to you. “Yes, death is after me! HYDRA detected me when I entered their facility.” You gawked at him. “We don’t have time!” He grabbed you by the hand and left the room and headed to the back of the building.
“You owe me one cup of coffee for this trouble,” you grumbled behind him. You weren’t a morning person and you needed a dose of caffeine to function, just like Stark.
Your eyes popped open. Oh yeah, speaking of Stark. You released your hand from his grip. “What are you doing?” He grunted.
“Have you told Stark about the sitch?”
“I didn’t have time.” He led you up the stairs, heading to the rooftop.
“Great.” You fished your earpiece from the pocket in your bag and pressed it on your ear. The earpiece came to life and FRIDAY greeted you. “Get me to Stark please,” you said in between your huffs as the two of you trod the 8 floors to the rooftop.
“Hey! What’s up?” A lively Stark piped in through your ear.
“Stark, Princey done huge trouble here.”
Loki stopped jogging on the steps and spun to face you, making you bump into him. “Hey! They detected me! Wasn’t my fault!”
“And how did they detect you, exactly? You haven’t told me that part yet!”
“What’s happening there?” You heard Stark ask.
“They were using magic to reinforce their security,” Loki replied to you. A blast shook the whole building. You two leaned on the rail and saw that they had blasted the main door open and their army filling the ground floor. “Shit!” Loki hissed and you pushed him to run.
“You two might want to tell me what the sitch is.” You didn’t reply. “FRIDAY, pull up Veronica. It’s her time to shine.”
“Now, why are we heading to the rooftop?” You asked him.
“So far they left the facilities on trucks.”
“Dude?! Have you ever thought of snipers around this building?!” You almost yelled.
“No.”
Doors were breaking on the floors below you. Civilians were screaming, filing out of their units.
“What?!”
“I needed to leave so I could get to you, okay!” He said over his shoulder.
“I might have bad news for you.”
“What is it, Stark?”
“There is HYDRA militia on the rooftop.”
“Shit!” You hissed and grabbed the hem of Loki’s leather tunic.
He grabbed on the rail, almost falling on you. “What?”
You released him. “HYDRA militia on top and wear your freaking earpiece, dammit!” You peered to check the upper floors. There were only 3 floors between you and the rooftop. Loki placed his piece into his ear. You pressed your back to the wall, placing a hand on Loki’s chest, implying that he’ll do the same. “Now what?”
“Stark, how many people are on the rooftop?” Loki asked.
“15 on the rooftop. 4 snipers on each direction, 20 feet from the center of the rooftop.”
“Okay.” The noises of the HYDRA militia from the ground floor are getting louder.
You tapped your foot. “You better think fast, Princey. We don’t have time.”
“Stop calling me Prin-!”
You glanced at him. “Alright, alright. Now, what are we -”
“We’re still heading to the rooftop.” He grabbed your wrist and fled. You pulled your hand from him, and then your gun, and then the slide of your semi-automatic. A floor left and you took two steps at a time. Loki used his magic to blast open the door and gunshots started to rain on you.
“Wow, that’s a lot of gunshots.”
“Tell me about it!” You replied to Tony.
Even after years of working with the Avengers, being at the receiving end of a firefight still scares you. But as you stepped out of the emergency exit, you found yourself wrapped in Loki’s force shield.
You grinned. “It’s showtime, baby,” you taunted and started to shoot at the HYDRA agents when all of them were thrown off the rooftop by a wave of green energy. You turned to Loki. “Did you just do that?!”
“Yes, I just did.” He has a shit-eating grin on his face. A helicopter rounded up to your building and when you’re about to shoot it, Loki sent a green beam at it and it blew up. Your jaw fell, forgetting the snipers and the other HYDRA agents floors below you. Loki pushed your chin close with a finger and snickered. “I’ve got this under control, darling,” he said and he held your hand.
A second later you were seeing the lush green landscape of the Avengers compound’s vast backyard. “That was fast. Welcome back.” Tony chimed into your earpiece.
You rolled your eyes at Loki as you two sauntered on the gravel road to the back entrance. “I can’t believe they still sent me with you for that mission when you can handle yourself well,” you babbled.
“I was also thinking of the same thing,” he replied arrogantly.
You exhaled heavily. “You still owe me a cup,” you told him before you took the right turn to your room.
AFTER AN HOUR, you heard a knock on your door. “FRIDAY, who is it?” You asked, not even moving an inch on your bed.
“It’s Loki,” the AI replied.
“What does he want now?” You pushed yourself off the bed and dawdled to the door. “Yes, Princey?” You began when you opened the door. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit you.
“Here’s your coffee, as you demanded.” He raised a tray with two cups of coffee, a small pitcher of milk, and two small bowls of brown and white sugar.
Your brows scrunched. “Are you trying to kill me? I can’t finish two cups of coffee.”
He frowned. “Who even told you you’re finishing two cups?”
You squint your eyes at him, thinking. “Are you saying…”
“Can’t I have coffee with you?” He grumbled.
“Oh.” You laughed and opened the door wide. “Come on in. I don’t want my coffee to be cold.” He entered and placed the tray on the coffee table next to the glass wall that gave you a picturesque view of the woods surrounding the compound. He gave you your cup and sat on the chair next to the table. “Thanks for this.” You poured milk and 2 spoons of brown sugar into your cup.
“You better be grateful for that, I ground the beans myself.”
You chuckled. “You didn’t.”
“FRIDAY, show us the footage of me making coffee. I know you have it.” Loki commanded and a video appeared on the glass wall, showing him working on the manual coffee grinder.
You almost choked on your coffee laughing. You had to place the cup back on the table and sat. “I might have to sit down for this.” He looked at you with curious eyes. “I didn’t expect that.” You faced him as you pointed at the video.
He shrugged. “Well, I almost got you killed so why not do that.” He took a sip of his coffee.
You reached out and placed a hand on his knee. He looked at your hand then to you. You beamed at him and said, “thanks a lot, Princey. That was one great effort.”
He gave you a toothless smile and you two continued to enjoy your coffee and the view of the forest as the afternoon sun took its departure.
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purplesurveys · 4 years ago
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1093
survey by pinkchocolate
Hi there! This list is based on some things I've done recently. Let's say, within the last few days. Have you done any of these things in the last few days?
Worn make-up? I never wear makeup. I’ve never felt the need to.
Worn perfume? Sure. I went out last Sunday to bring Cooper to the vet and to take myself out to a coffee shop for a few hours, so I wanted to make sure I smelled decent.
Taken selfies? I think I may have, but I’m sure I deleted them almost immediately.
Shared some photos on social media? Yes, I posted a couple photos of Cooper because he was being super smiley the other day. I also shared a photo of my laptop, which was playing Friends, beside my Friends mug the other night.
Woken up to the sound of your phone vibrating? Technically. But this usually happens when I’m trying to fall asleep in the evening, i.e. someone sending a late-night message, and not in the morning.
Heard the rain outside your window? Yes. It’s literally happening right now haha it just started raining.
Added sugar to a mug of tea/coffee? No. I use 3-in-1 coffee packets, which are already pre-mixed and all I have to do is add hot water. I’m terrible with measurements and starting from scratch and I doubt I’ll ever get the hang of manually combining coffee + sugar + milk + creamer + whatever else goes into coffee haha.
Refilled your drinks bottle? I don’t use a tumbler. I’m at home nearly every day of the week so I always have access to our glasses.
Felt emotionally involved while reading a book? This has happened before for sure, but not in the last few days.
Chuckled/laughed while reading a book? Uhhh I guess. My employer recently lent me this book on PR that they thought would help me gain a richer appreciation of the industry and I guess I did lightly chuckle at a few humorous anecdotes in it.
Spilled a drink? I don’t think so.
Eaten something that was sprinkled with sugar? Nope. I’ve eaten sweets here and there but nothing sprinkled with sugar.
Googled the definition of a word? At least a few times a day.
Read a Wikipedia article? Yes, I love Wikipedia. The last entry I read was a list on notable last words.
Laughed at a video you watched online? So many times. The main reason I watch videos is to be entertained and to laugh, to be honest; so it’s nice that a lot of creators make great, funny content.
Craved a savoury snack of some description? I’ve been craving gourmet donuts for weeks now. Nothing sweet; I’m looking for those with creative, out-of-the-box flavors.
Cursed after dropping an item on the floor? Probably.
Been amused by your pet's behaviour? I am always amused at their behavior. Kimi’s approaching 13 years but he still makes me laugh every single day.
Recognized an actor in a TV show, from another show you'd seen? I’ve only been watching Friends, soooo nothing to compare it to.
Seen an actor on TV that you thought attractive? Courteney Cox, always.
Typed something in a word processor? I had to look this up lol, but I guess I have if Google Docs counts as one? I use it a lot for work.
Been asked a question that you found awkward or difficult to answer? Sure. My grandma called up when I was stuck in a particularly tough period of my shift and she was asking how it’s been. I didn’t want to worry her or overshare, so I paused for a bit and just said “it’s going great!”
Smelled a pleasant food aroma? Yeah, my dad cooks up some great stuff al the time.
Dipped your food in ketchup, mayonnaise or another sauce? Tartar sauce.
Forgotten a hot beverage, then found it had gone cold? I don’t make hot beverages, so.
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survey by kellyburnsred
What music video do you wish you were in? I don’t watch music videos a lot, mostly because they’re usually not at all related to the song it corresponds to and I never saw the point. Buttt idk, the one I had some of the most fun watching was One Direction’s Best Song Ever because it was hilarious. It’d be cool to fuck around with the characters there.
Who makes you laugh the most? I’d say it’s either Andi or Hans. JM and Kate are good runners-up.
You only can eat three things the rest of your life, what do choose? That would make me sick of those foods so fast...but if it were a legit life-and-death situation, I would go with surf and turf (so that I at least have a bit of variety), rice (because I can’t live without rice), and macarons (for something sweet).
What's one thing you wish you had in your life right now? Macarons. I recently liked a slew of local macaron shops on Facebook and even though I know it’s my fault, I hateeee that my feed is filled with macarons now haha.
If you had to give up your style, what other style would you choose? I’m not really sure. I can think of more styles I’m not willing to adopt, than those that can be my back-up.
What's your favorite ice cream topping? Hot fudge.
What is the bare minimum of sleep you could function on? I guess 3 or 4, but that’s the barest of the bare minimum. I would still be cranky if I was only able to sleep for that few hours.
When you drive, do you generally speed? Yeah, if I can. You’re always stuck in traffic in Manila so if you have the chance to press harder on the gas, you typically wouldn’t want to miss out on it.
Are you an animal lover? Yes, except for pests and insects I don’t like, like cockroaches.
What's the dumbest thing you've done because someone dared you? I once ate a piece of siomai that already fell to the ground; when I ate it I felt a lot of tiny pebbles and other debris so I promptly spat it out in a nearby bin.
What is the most disgusting trait that you have? Idk...typical disgusting habits make me wince myself. The worst thing I can think of is that I tend to keep my nails super long just out of neglect; and I usually only clip them once dirt starts getting trapped under the nails, or once it starts to become hard to type.
What was the last thing you talked to your friends about? Angela had made this really cute, DIY foldable collage for Hans for his birthday yesterday and I just checked in on her earlier to ask if he loved it.
What part of your day do you look forward to the most? The moment my shift ends.
What are your favorite song lyrics? This week, it’s probably “It isn’t the same, but it is enough.” It’s oddly calming no matter how sad the actual context is.
Who are your closest friends? Angela and Andi.
What profession do you admire the most? All are worthy of admiration. I don’t really have a ~favorite~
Do you believe in karma? Not strictly in the spiritual sense; but it can be comforting to think that the people who have hurt me will have their ass handed back to them someday.
What do you think is the funniest show on TV? Ooh, I don’t watch a lot of TV anymore...I have a sitcom in mind but it ended 17 years ago and it’s still pretty polarizing to this day, lol.
Are you an organ donor? No.
Did you have imaginary friends when you were younger? Just one, but I didn’t get the point of it and I got bored very quickly.
Have you ever smoked weed? No but a friend knows a supplier should I ever want to start getting into it.
Who do you look up to for your style? Idk, whatever girls my age are wearing these days.
What's the most expensive thing you've ever bought? With my own money, probably the hotel accommodation I purchased for my dad’s birthday this weekend. I’m super stingy with my money and I can’t imagine spending 4 or 5 figures on something just for myself.
What's your favorite amusement park ride? Not too big on rides.
Who was the craziest teacher you've ever had? Ironically, it was my Christianity/religion teacher from 5th grade. We bumped into each other a few weeks after I graduated high school and his first remark towards me was about my breasts. He did a lot of stupid shit too when I was in 5th grade but I don’t feel like getting into them because he was just one big headache of a man.
Where would you like to travel that you have not been? Thailand, if within Asia; Spain if outside.
If you could be any musician for a day, who would you be and why? No thanks.
Do you have any tattoos? No.
What are your favorite scary movies? Some favorites are Carrie, The Shining, and Scream.
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