#nor do i think the job should exist

[thewardenisonthecase]

the whole 'who should be first talon' thing is actually going to give me a headache the more i think about it

[why-rock-look-tasty-if-no-eat]

Because I don't care how or what I eat (moldy grapes/bread, paper, uncooked pasta, ants, undercooked foods, stale cereal, freezer burnt foods, pineapples, burnt foods, suspicious meat, raw potatoes, pinecone (only a bite dw), dandelions, expired foods, foods covered with sand/dirt, grass, marrow) I like to traumatize my friends and family with what I'm willing to eat. Now I get an excuse to traumatize tumblr :D

Frozen milk. Thats the weirdest thing I've had and I'm not willing to so that again. It doesn't really freeze like water so it's really similar to a slushie, but the slushie is frozen. If that makes sense.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Tender Loving Care

pairing: Aemond x Reader

summary: after a training accident, Aemond's wife takes care of him. In more ways than one.

tags: heterosexual sex, cowgirl, massage, hand job, cum eating, cranky Aemond is a good boy for his wife, mentions of the other members of the Green but not present.

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

Training accidents were as common as breathing if one wanted to master the sword.

If one wanted to hold a blade, then one must also be prepared to suffer its bite. Aemond was well aware of this. Even though it was just training, play fighting for the knights & instructors brought in from all over Westeros to teach the prince, he had been cut before. Nothing serious. Nothing like his eye. He wishes it had been. It would make this latest injury less wounding than the others.

A simple misstep, that was all. His own clumsiness was what put him in this bed. His leg wasn’t broken or maimed, but twisted in his fall, to the point that he could put no weight on it. Or at least that was what the maesters said.

2 weeks. That was the punishment for his own mistake. He was not to leave this bed save to relieve himself and the few moments a day he was granted to stand & test his legs progress. Each day was a new torment. Not for the pain, Aemond could handle that, but the failure of trying his leg and only have it betray him again & again. He wondered how his father did it all those years trapped in his bed. Aemond would have begged for death sooner.

“Husband,” the prince looked up from his window and thoughts of limping over to throw himself out of it, when his wife’s voice came into the room.

One of his few constant visitors during his confinement. Helaena came to visit him but was busy with her children. Aegon only came once, to taunt him about his trip more than anything before he left and a back handed ‘get better Aemond the Fierce!’. His mother came as well but flapped between concern and scolding for his ‘recklessness’. She was the only one who seemed genuinely concerned for him, though her concern was not needed. Aemond did not wish to feel more like an invalid than he already did. “What is it?”

“It is time to change the bandage on her leg.” To keep it straight. To keep him bound, he thought with a spat, although Aemond arched a brow at the comment.

“Where is the maester?” His wife was many things, but she was no practitioner of medicine nor magic.

She sighed. “Did you really expect them to come back willingly after last time?” Aemond pursed his lips.

Under the best of circumstances, Aemond was aware that he was not the most agreeable person in the realm. Could anyone really blame him? His existence had taught him over & over that it was better to lash out and cut first, lest you be the one who is sliced. Metaphorically, of course. He wasn’t a mad man like some of his ancestors. And attached to this bed the only weapon at his disposal was his words. He had cursed, jeered, and ranted, honestly uncharacteristic of himself, at the maester who had attended to his leg the day before and had the nerve to tell him his progress was splendid. If it was so splendid then why was he still in this bed? If he was such a great man of knowledge and skill, why hadn’t he healed him yet?! He should go back to whatever dung heap he crawled out of and beg alms for to the gods for wasting a fine Citadel education on an incompetent!!

The prince said a few more unkind things before he forbade any of them from touching him again. He did not think they would take him seriously.

“So, they sent you to do the work of a common barrio healer since they do not wish to do their jobs?”

“I think it was more that they thought you wouldn’t scratch at me. More fool they then, hn?”

Aemond sunk further into his pillows, sulking. He doesn’t mean to scratch at her. He doesn’t mean to scratch at any of them, honestly. He just wanted to get out of his bed and go on with his life. To have the world move on around him, to grow weak and irrelevant in this bed, was the real punishment. “I’m sorry.” He apologized. “…thank you…for helping me…”

“You’re welcome Aemond.”

How quick she was to accept his apology. How quick she was to help him, already coming to his side despite his scratching, when he needed her. No wonder he was always alone….

The prince did what he could for her as he raised his leg from the pillow propping it up and held it there while she unwrapped the old dressing. “Are you sure you know what you are doing?” It was not meant as a slight. Just a genuine curiosity on if she knew the proper way to wrap his injury.

His wife just chuckled. “Yes, Aemond. Despite not wanting to come in here on their own, the maesters did instruct me on how to do it properly.” Cowards, he thought. “There! All done.”

Aemond looked at his leg with his good eye and tried to flex at his foot. His nostrils flared at the persistent pain, but it was wrapped correctly. He was impressed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I want you healed as soon as possible as well.” Her hand reached for his on the bed and clasped it. “In fact…I was told of another treatment….one that might help with the…circulation in your leg.”

“Oh?” Aemond was curious about that. Trapped in this bed, his legs were not getting the work out that they normally would. Training aside, the walk around the castle was enough exercise for most lords. He hadn’t been able to go more than a few steps for days. His legs teetered between weightlessness and the sharp pricks of falling asleep all the time. “Will it improve my condition?”

“It….could…” She seemed unconvinced. Avoiding, even. But perhaps that was because the last person who made remarks about the improvement of his condition was threatened to be fed to Vhagar. “Will you let me try it?”

What was there to lose, he thought, and Aemond nodded before he helped her take off his lower bed linens so both his legs were bare. A small vial appeared out from her pocket, and she poured some of its contents onto her hands before rubbing them together and placing them on his leg. “Just…try to relax for me.”

A hefty ask, but he does try. All he could do recently was ‘try to relax’. ‘Rest, my prince’, ‘you need time to heal’. It was all he had heard for the past days, to the point that any word close to ‘relax’ had almost the opposite effect on him. But for her, he does try. For her it worked a little. His shoulders finally untensing. Looking at her in the candlelight. Soft feelings swelling at the touch of her soft hands. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” He answered, almost without thinking. It did feel good. He didn’t realize how stiff his leg was until this moment.

Aemond let out a deep exhale. Not really a sigh, just the release of all the air in his lungs and tension built in his body. His eye closed as he laid back and let his wife work. They aren’t strong, but persistent. He continued to enjoy until he felt her hands shift up higher. Up his calf where his injury was to above his knee. “What are you doing?”

“What??” Her shocked face was particularly adorable in the soft light. Wide, wild eyes. Body frozen save for a soft tremble in her shoulders. “I..I’m rubbing your leg. I told you.”

“My injury is not there though.” He told her logically. Gaze still fixed on her for any kind of reveal.

“I…I know…” Her hands shift to seem to want to move away from him, but she willed them to stay still. “I just thought…maybe there was some other tension I could help you with….”

It was Aemond’s turn to be shocked, but he doesn’t show it on his face like she does. His wife was a lady. A demure, kind, noble one at that. Though she wasn’t nearly as boring & cow eyed as the other noble ladies on offer to him at the time of his betrothal, or so Aemond assumed as he didn’t pay much attention to any of them, boldness like this was not heard of in their marriage. She never denied him. Seemed fond of when they were together; or at least made all the right noises like she did. But it was always he who initiated such acts in their bedroom. To see her offer, and on offer, as he finally took in her appearance and the thin robe she had come to him in, Aemond would not deny that it was quite arousing.

Without another word, Aemond parted his legs further to give her room. If this was her intention, he would not deny her. There was a flush on her cheeks that bleed down her neck towards the V of her robe when he did this. Her resolve seeming to waiver, and disappointment started to drip into his chest at the prospect he may have ruined this too with his terrible attitude, but she continued.

The prince sighed. Gladdened to feel her hands on him again and closed his eye with a newfound desire for his treatment, now that he knew what was going on. “Higher.”

“Here?”

Her coquettish tone was a tonic to his ears. She was enjoying this. She was enjoying touching him and playing with him. His cock jumped as it filled fuller. More aroused by the fact that his wife truly did want him than her hands close, but not close enough, to his member. “Higher.”

“Here?”

Aemond opened his eye and genuinely growled at his wife. Though this game was amusing, enticing, it had been days since he’d found release. Being stuck in this bed did not really spur a person on towards desire. And though she laid with him at night like a good wife she had been spared from her ‘wifely duties’ for some time as Aemond was either still in too much pain from his leg, or unable to move it to perform the act, or in too bad of a mood to make the effort. Having her close. Feeling her touch. It was like the flood gates opened on a dam he had long since locked up and threw away the key on. “Please….”

His kind, noble, demure wife took pity on him, and also took his cock in her hand. Aemond’s head tilted back as he moaned. Her soft hands stroking his member from under his night shirt slowly, deliberately. She had touched him before, so she knew how he liked it, but honestly she could have touched him anyway she liked. Like a clumsy novice that first night they were together, and he still would have melted in her hands.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” Again, without thought. But headier this time. More needy. He opened his eye to look upon his wife and found her staring at him. Those bright eyes darkened with desire. He’d never seen it before; mostly because when they were together her face was either buried in his chest, or shoulder, or in the pillows. Aemond bit his bottom lip hard. Trying not to cum at just the sight of her.

“It’s ok.” She told him in a whisper. Like it was a secret between the two of them. “You can let go husband. Will you let go for me?”

It was the softest command that Aemond had ever heard, and yet it forced him to obey more than any other. His back pressed further back into the pillows as his head tilted back again. His cock spasming in her hand as his seed leapt out from the tip. Covering her hand and perhaps getting some on her pretty robe by her knee. He would have to get her another one.

He opened his eye again after coming down from his high. Just in time to see her lick his seed off the palm of her hand. “What are you doing?”

“Well, the royal seed is sacred, is it not?” Her grin was soft, but mischievous. “We should not waste it.”

Aemond’s hand darted out to grab hold of her arm and drag her down to him in a deep, needy kiss. Apparently the flood gates he thought were released earlier were in truth just a leak in the levees. This was when the dam broke now. The need he had for her burning so hot that he could almost taste blood at the back of his tongue, his blood was boiling so hot.

He tried to spread his legs wider to make more room for his wife, but when he moved, he was reminded (painfully) of his injury. “Damnit!” The prince hissed against his wife’s lips. The throbbing in his leg almost in tandem with his cock.

“Sssh��it’s ok Aemond.” He wanted to bite at her soft words.

It was not ok! None of this was ok! He was injured, in pain, stuck in this bed, and now he couldn’t even fuck his wife! He felt useless. He felt angry. He felt humiliated not being able to do things as a man should, and he just wanted to get back to normal!

Before he could tell her any of this, however, his wife pulled back and removed her robe from her body. Mesmerizing in the fire light. No Valyrian alabaster, but still just as dazzling to Aemond. Shift discarded, his wife raised her hips and inched closer to hover them over his own. “The maester said not to move unless absolutely necessarily.” He wanted to argue that laying with his wife was absolutely necessarily, particularly in this moment, but all his words left him on a moan as she lowered herself onto him. “So you just stay there. L-Let me take care of you.” The little stammer in her voice as she started rolling her hips almost sent Aemond into a frenzy, but he endured.

He genuinely couldn’t move with her on top of him like this and his position on the bed. Though why would be want to? For the first time since his accident, Aemond was actually ecstatic to be stuck here in this bed. His wife lovingly impaling herself on his member. Riding him with skill just short of a dragon rider. If he had the wits still about him, he would have chuckled at his own joke. ‘Dragon rider’. As it was though he was stupid with lust. Dumb, witless, helpless at her mercy as she took from him everything and gave him back so much. He still had brains at least to return the favor.

His wife cried out when he reached up to cup her breast. The weight of them in his hands something he missed. Aemond does not get a lot of time to enjoy them, however, as his wife suddenly fell forward. Covering his body with her own. Hips still moving but at a much snappier pace with the depleted gap between them. He didn’t care though. His hands just repositioned themselves on her other mounds at her backside and pressed her to move faster.

“A-Aemond!” Her cries were his music. The tempo in which he set a new rhythm.

The wet sound of their sexes kissing along with their actual kissing fill the room, until it all stopped in one bright, shining moment of his wife shaking on top of him while her fists tried to fight his pillows and he spilled inside her this time.

He wished he could hold her like this for longer. Her weight a comfort, like a blanket, in his arms. But she rolled over onto his non-injured side to lay beside him. It was good enough. “Do you feel better now?”

Aemond looked down at her, having to turn his head completely as to not just look at her with the sapphire in his eye, realizing at last what this was about. Her idea of a good will effort. To lift his spirits and relieve his tension. Maybe keep him from trying to execute more of the maesters in the castle. “Yes. I’m feeling better.”

She smiled, then placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Good.”

The fingers from the hand around her own shoulders played with her hair as he stared at the ceiling. “Was this all just for me though?”

His wife looked at him with a perplexed look, but then realized what he was asking and blushed. She was smart enough to figure it out. “Not…all of it. I did want you to be in better spirits but…I have missed you.”

The corner of Aemond’s lips ticked up. Pleased, and pleased with himself. He did not think his sexual prowess was worth much compared to his prowess with a sword or strategy. But to hear that his wife wanted him, truly wanted him, was all the praise he would ever need. “So, you came up with this idea to satisfy both of us, ābrazyrys.”

“It wasn’t….all my idea…” Aemond arched a brow at his wife’s words. Curious now where she had got the idea from, as it had clearly come from somewhere. “Aegon commented on your bad mood and how someone should ‘cheer you up’. He gave me the idea, but the rest of it was all my doing.”

Aemond wasn’t sure which comment he was more shocked about. The fact that his brother knew how he was faring in his recovery, or the fact that he made lewd comments to his wife. He was battering between feelings of an odd sense of touched and white hot furry, but he decided to just let it go for now and enjoy his wife. “Well, thank you, regardless. In future I will try not to scratch at you while I am still confined to this bed. Lest you ask.”

She giggled when he kissed the top of her forehead. “And the maesters?”

“They are on their own.” Idiots. “I make no promises on their safety, but I will…endeavor to be of better character in the future.” At least not threaten to feed them to Vhagar. That seemed a reasonable adjustment.

[ariasakka]

Viktor arcane smut

Talks of body insecurity, smut, fluff, 18+, female reader, similar/same age as Viktor, pussy eating, etc

Nobody has been able to make you cum before. Your best friend Viktor can help you with that.

If anything in this makes you uncomfortable at any point please don’t continue to read. <3

Enjoy ;)

Viktor is your best friend and has been in love with you for years. Jayce keeps hitting on you but you don’t like him. Viktor feels a little jealous every time someone flirts with you especially Jayce but tries not to let it be seen.

You often spend the night at Viktors place because hes your only friend and you’re his closest friend.

You and Viktor were gifted some fancy drinks after presenting your new idea to the council. You both go back to his place after and decide to celebrate. That and neither of you really feel like being alone. After all you both get along with each other better than anyone else. No one knows the two of you better than one another. Late night talks are always both of your favorite. After a few glasses of the worst alcoholic beverage you and Viktor have ever tasted you both lay down on his bed feeling tipsy and exhausted.

Viktor

“I saw Jayce eyeing you all day again.”

You

“Ugh I know, wish he’d leave me alone.”

Viktor chuckles lightly

“You don’t like him back at all? Not even a little?”

You

“I don’t want Jayce. He’s barely even an acquaintance in my eyes. I’ve always gone for men like Jayce. Not because I find any of them attractive but because I feel like I have to. To feel more feminine…or maybe not even just feminine. I guess more petite next to them? Womanly? Weak? I don’t know. None of them have ever been able to make me finish either. But I guess that’s my fault. It can’t be this hard to cum for other women. I don’t really see a point in dating if I don’t find hardly any men attractive plus they don’t satisfy me at all regardless of the non existent orgasm.”

Viktor

“Have you seriously never came with someone else before?”

You

“…no”

Viktor

“Does foreplay not make it easier? Or at the very least more enjoyable?”

You laugh

“Foreplay? That only exists in fiction. Men are not into that thing.”

Viktor

“Boys are not into that sort of thing. What about oral? Clitoral stimulation with the tongue? I feel as though that can always do the job. It’s not too rough nor too gentle. It’s quite intimate and romantic at the same time.”

You

“Um…no man I’ve been with as ever been into that.”

Viktor

“What?!”

You

“Not necessarily because of me they’ve always just said they don’t do that to any woman because “it’s weird” or whatever.”

Viktor sighs

“Let me guess they request oral from their women though.”

You

“Um well….i suppose..”

Viktor

“I feel sorry for you. I assure you men who are actually interested in women don’t prioritize their cock.”

You

“Then what would they even get out of sex if not that?!”

Viktor

“Do you really think men can’t enjoy sex if their dick isn’t involved in the equation?”

You

“Well yes. All men are like that. Aren’t they?..”

Viktor

“Absolutely not. Again men *who are actually into women* will be just as if not more satisfied with his face inbetween her legs.”

You

“…”

Viktor

“Real men have far more enjoyment with foreplay or oral, etcetera than just boring average penetration. It is not impossible for you to cum. You have just been unlucky with men who should look into fucking men or better yet themselves.”

You

“I guess. I’m still convincing myself it’s impossible though.”

Viktor

“Tsk. Jayce is nice but he would probably not know how to satisfy a woman so I suppose you are dodging a bullet there my friend.”

You chuckle and nod in agreement.

Viktor

“Well…what about Jayce’s looks? Do you like him in that regard?”

You

“He’s far from my type in looks as-well.”

Viktor teases

“Do you prefer even more muscular men then?”

You laugh

“Absolutely not! Quite the opposite actually but i always feel huge next to them. If I found a man i actually like he’d never go for someone like me. If he wouldn’t find my body unattractive he’d probably be put off by my strength. Men are always so inscure when I’m stronger than them..”

Viktor feels a warm feeling in his chest when he hears you say “quite the opposite” in hopes he’s closer to your type. That feeling quickly fades when he hears you insult yourself.

Viktor

“You can’t possibly think that can you?!”

You

“What?”

Viktor moves his face closer to yours on the bed in annoyance. He has to make sure you actually hear his words. Take them in. Believe them. You putting yourself down like this is making his head spin.

Viktor

“One you can’t possibly think you’re big. You’re quite small. For Christ sake you’re average height. Two you do not have to be this stupid beauty standard of stick and bone to be beautiful. Three you’re far from huge. Thats never once been a thought in my mind. Four you’re strong. Very strong but any man put off by that is a weak one!”

You

“There are women smaller.”

Viktor

“And you’re still the most beautiful one of them all.”

You

“You don’t have to be nice to me Viktor. I’m just rambling nonsense.”

Viktor

“All women have their own insecurities of course but I truly mean it. I do. You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I truly mean that. I’ve always thought that. I can’t possibly understand how you could think differently.”

You

“I-“

As he was talking he didn’t notice his face had gotten so close you yours now that your his nose was brushing against your cheek. He was so mesmerized with your beauty. So taken aback that you couldn’t see what he saw that with every word he spoke he grew closer and closer to you getting lost in your beauty. He can feel your warm breath against his face. He can hear every shaky breath you take. He was unsure before if you’d ever feel for him an ounce of what he felt for you. In that moment he knew you felt something. He could tell with every fiber of his being. He didn’t care if you felt the exact same intensity for him as he did for you at least he knew you felt something for him and that was enough. All he wanted to do was to please you. Make your legs shake. To make you feel loved. To cherish you. To hold you.

You both paused for a moment. He was lost in thought of you. Before you had time to respond he placed a gentle kiss on your warm lips. To his surprise you reciprocated. You gently tugged on his shirt pulling him in for more. He had always been your type. Always been the one you wanted. What you needed. You were too afraid to ever let him know before. Worried he wouldn’t feel the same way. Most importantly even more worried to push away your best friend. Your only friend. You didn’t know if what Viktor was feeling was just lust or love. The way he was kissing you. The way he was talking to you. It couldn’t help but make you feel as though it was both. You had never felt something this intense. Not even sex made your body react this way. You never wanted it to end.

Viktor felt intoxicated and it wasn’t just from the alcohol. Viktor hovered his hand above your waist desperately wanting to feel your skin with his hands but waited for your okay. You gave him a nod in approval when you saw his hand. With your nod he places his thin fingers on your waist gently tracing them under your shirt. Viktor pulled you closer to him with each kiss until neither of you get any closer together. He couldn’t help but let out soft whimpers into your mouth and tighten his grip on your hip every time you tugged on his shirt.

Viktor pulled away from your lips for a moment. He looked at you with need.

Viktor

“Please, please, I want to make you feel good.”

You

“I- I can’t finish you know that.”

Viktor groans

“I know you can. And if you really can’t at all then I at least know I can make you feel pleasure, please.”

You don’t respond too lost in the way he’s looking up at you with desire.

Viktor traces his fingers gently from your waist down to your legs to your knees then back up again.

Viktor

“I can’t let you live your whole life without feeling pleasure.”

You

“Y-yes. Fuck, yes. Just..do whatever you want.”

Viktor leaves your skirt on. He places soft passionate kisses along your neck while undoing your pants bringing them to your knees. You help him by kicking your pants fully off having them fall to the floor. Viktor slides his hand down on top of your panties and gently traces circles over your clit.

Viktor

“Do you want me to make your pussy feel good?”

You nod in response. You can’t help but moan in excitement as he starts to move his fingers up and down your wet slit over your panties.

You wonder if you’re feeling this good because of his skill or just because it’s Viktor.

Once he can tell you’re soaked, Viktor slowly slides your panties off. Admiring your bare pussy intensely starting to drool a bit at the mouth.

Viktor

“Fuck such a pretty pussy. Can I give it a kiss? Please?”

You

“Mm yes you may.”

Viktor slides himself down on the bed until his face reaches your cunt. He lays on his stomach and presses his face down into your folds. Smothering himself in your juices. He gently traces his tongue along your clit. Gripping your thighs in place as you start to shake from pleasure. You were already feeling so much bliss you couldn’t imagine what on earth an orgasm could feel like. How could you possibly feel better than this.

Once he can tell you’re enjoying this and getting used to the feeling he slides two fingers inside slowly. Gently thrusting them back and forth. Fuck you never knew sex could feel this good. After a while you start to unconsciously buck your hips into his face. When he notices this he starts to scissor his fingers inside of your hole sticking his tongue in between his fingers rapidly licking your insides. With his other hand he gently holds two fingers to your clit. He doesn’t move them, Viktor doesn’t want to overstimulate you too much. The bucking of your hips should stimulate his fingers on your clit enough. Viktor can feel you getting closer and closer to release. His boxers are soaked with precum from the sight of you. The taste of you. The sound of you. If he was to grind into the mattress he could cum in under five minutes but he won’t. He’ll hold back. This is about your pleasure. A few more licks deep in your cunt and your gushing cum all over his face. It doesn’t matter how much you shake his face never leaves your pussy it’s like he’s glued to it. He groans as he tastes your cum. The sight of him licking up every drop is making your brain go numb.

Once he’s cleaned you up he sucks your juices off his fingers before bringing his body up in between your legs. Resting his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

Viktor

“Did I do alright?”

You

“You did perfect. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling that good.”

Viktor smirks and says smugly

“I knew you could cum.”

You smack his arm gently in response before wrapping your arms around his back. Holding him tightly. He feels so good like this. You’ve wanted to hold him like this for so long.

You

“Do you..want me to do anything to you?”

Viktor

“No, no. This is all I needed. Do me one favor though?”

You

“Anything.”

Viktor

“Stay here tonight. In my bed. Let me fall asleep in your arms like this. Let me call you mine tomorrow.”

You

“Call me yours?”

Viktor

“Is it not painstakingly obvious I’m in love with you? Do you not feel an ounce of the same?”

You

“I’ve felt the same for a while. I just..I just didn’t think you felt that too. Or maybe I didn’t want to believe it because it would be too good to be true.”

Viktor

“Let me keep being too good to be true. Please. Let me spoil you. As more than a friend. Be mine.”

You

“I’m yours.”

[ddiidi]

bf!Bangchan x gn!reader (ot8 mentioned)

Masterlist

When he calls you clingy, so you distance yourself

Previous Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Next Pt. 3

!Warnings: angst, swearing, fun at the end bc reader needs fun in life (lmk if i missed anything)

Important!Side-Note!: Should I do a happy ending for them?

It has been 3 days since that incident. 3 days and still not a single message from Chan, not even an apology for yelling at you, nothing. You've been texting him every now and then, to ask if he's okay, eats and sleeps. He never replied to any of them, nor has he seen them, so you spend most of the time packing your stuff and working from home. You were glad you had a job you also could work from home for. Every now and then, you went over to the building, to check a few things, walking extra detours, to make sure, you won't bump into Chan.

A few of the other members texted you the past days, asking if everything is okay and why the haven't seen you around for a while, to which you just replied with "Busy with work and private stuff, dww:)". It made you happy they actually care that much about you, just because they haven't seen you in a few days, but also anxious and sad, since they care, but chan hasn't even shown any intress in you the past days. You weren't even able to tell him that you're moving.

More days pass, and a few days, turn into a week of no textes from Chan. At this point, you wondered if he even knew that you still exist.

So here you were, in your old apartment, stuffed with boxes, not being able to get your mind off chan and his well-being, even though, you're still deeply hurt from what he said, you couldn't just not not care about him....He pointed out two of your insecurities, just like that as if it was nothing and he doesn't even care...not about you not your feelings.

You let out a deep sigh. You should be getting ready for a day with your friends. Not think about some man, who happened to be the love of your life, who calls you his partner, but doesn't even know how to cherish you.

You let out another, heavy, sigh as you drop to the floor to put on your shoes, Let's just focus on having a great time today, you thought to yourself and left the apartment.

Well, maybe it was not the best decision to go out today...

Chan for his part, had to listen to a lectur from Felix, after you ran out, crying. "Chris..you really shouldn't have said all that to her. I understand that you were annoyed or whatever, but that was no reason to yell at her" "Really now? They were just being a fucking, clingy and annoying crybaby that couldn't take no for an answer, for whatever reason." chan sighed out, at the younger member. "That crybaby...was really uncalled for chris. They're your partner, not some random person on the street you can yell at. I wouldn't wonder if they took that "Leave me alone" to heart and actually leave you after that action." "But I-" chan starts, "I'm just saying chris. You better fix this before it's too late. After what you pulled, partners are faster gone than you could blink" with that, Felix leaves the room, leaving Chan alone, again.

Since that talk, Chan locked himself in his studio, thinking about the best way to apologize for what he said. But he couldn't find one. No matter how long he thought, days, a whole week, there was nothing but regret. He just had to apologize in person and beg for forgivness, hoping that you'd actually forgive him.

So there he was, with a giant bouquet of flowers, fresh clothes and hope.

He had the code to your apartment, so he opened the door, ready to be greeted by the warm, wide open hallway, but was greeted with the cold gray of bunch of boxes instead and the first thing he felt, was panic."Y/n? Y/n are you there?" he yelled, as he ran through your whole apartment, but as he saw that even all your date polaroid pictures where gone, he couldn't help but panic even more.

He let's the flowers fall on the floor, running to your room and nearly collapsed when he found..nothing. Where were you? Did you actually go? Did you actually leave him? All these questions consumed his head and that's when he broke, crying to the point he couldn't breath. He took out his phone and called the first number he saw in his recent calls. It peeped a few times, before someone took the call.

"Hey Chris everything alr-" "They're gone! Felix they're gone, they're not here i don't know what to do! I've never meant it I was just-" chan cried and gasped out at felix on the other line. "Woah there calm down, try to breath I don't understand a word. Relax, I'll be there okay? You know there is an explination for everything, that's what you always say, so try to relax it's okay" Felix tried to soothen the older man, while grabbing his keys and running out to his car. Chan didn't reply anything to that and continued soobing.

I have your location, I'll be there in 5." that's the last thing chan heared from felix, before he collapsed on the floor in your apartment.

And you? You were drinking coffee with your friends, while your bestie told you guys a story how she saw a horse that nearly drowned.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

@finnbbl @wolfs-howling

[drabblesandimagines]

Hi there, I would like to request Cloud, if thats okay. A sparring session that leads into an unexpected kiss?

Just read you are feeling under the weather, hope you feel better soon!

Sweet anon, I'm sorry this took me literally months! Please lemme know what you think x

It’s late as you leave your room at Stargazer Heights, pulling the door closed behind you with a gentle click. The weight of your new sword still feels unnervingly foreign on your back as you head down the stairs carefully, not wanting to disturb any of your neighbours’ sleep with your heavy footfalls.

Just because you couldn’t sleep didn’t mean theirs should suffer in return.

Your beloved, trusty sword, after many years of faithful service in the Watch, had snapped clean in two after a particularly good thwack against a hard-shelled creature whilst on a job in the scrapyard earlier that day. If that wasn’t enough, it just had to happen in front of Cloud Strife, the blonde ex-Soldier who had joined the Avalanche ranks - temporarily, at least – and who you were somewhat hoping to impress with your mastery of the blade as common ground over the past few weeks.

“You’d be good for him, you know?” Tifa had teased over the bar one night, catching you staring a little too long as he sat down the opposite end, nursing a drink. You’d have told her to hush if Barret’s voice wasn’t booming around the establishment, meaning you were lucky to have even heard her comment in the first place.

Instead, you answer flustered. “What? I… He’s your… No!”

“I don’t like him like that, sweetie.” She’d reassured, patting your hand with a smile. “Plus, I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

“Me?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I don’t think he’s aware I exist, not with how Jessie has been all over him.”

“Mm.” Tifa purses her lips in thought before they pulled back into a knowing smile – she’d caught the merc’s gaze flickering in your direction before it settled back on the drink before him. “No, I think Cloud’s warming up to you. Let me see what I can do.”

“Tifa-“

Biggs’ warm hand wrapped around your arm and tugged you up from the bar and away from your protest in an instant. “Come on, you owe me a rematch and I’ve finally convinced Wedge to let us have a round.”

You concede, destroying Biggs at darts once again would be a good distraction from the blonde at the bar. Besides, what could Tifa do anyway?

--

What Tifa could do, apparently, was make it so whenever Cloud took on a job, Biggs or Wedge would insist you tag along to help him navigate the area – sometimes with Tifa, sometimes without – and that’s what had led you to today, stuck deep within the scrapyard with a broken blade.

You’d never been any good with your fists, nor could aim a gun straight – despite tips from Tifa and Biggs over the years – so, reluctantly, you’d been relegated to the back line for the rest of the outing. At the most, you could fling a spell or two from the materia still equipped in the broken hilt when you could.

Unfortunately, it meant you didn’t have anything really to defend yourself with whilst the materia recharged. A nasty hit from a retreating drake had sent you tumbling backwards, head literally over heels. It dived back down at you, realizing you were now easy prey, ready to go for a nasty bite when a certain blonde merc’s sword dug into its side, sending it flying over in Tifa’s direction who finished it off with a perfectly executed roundhouse kick – all before your life could flash before your eyes.

“Are you okay?” Cloud crouches in front of you, his sword already sheathed, and places a hand on your arm as he awaits your answer. His expression, usually stoic and unreadable, is marred by a slight furrow in his brow as he looks you over with concerned Mako-blue eyes.

He must find you at least tolerable, you’d decided, as he didn’t seem to protest as much when you joined them on jobs like this around the slums.

Though maybe not ever again after today’s pathetic display.

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling foolish. “Still in one piece. Thanks for that.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugs and gets to his feet, offering you his hand in assistance.

You take it, relishing the feeling as his gloved fingers wrap around your palm. He pulls you up with a little too much gusto – or maybe underestimates his own strength - sending you stumbling forward. You try and catch your balance, only to find your hand placed firmly against his chest, his other hand now on the small of your back in alarm.

“Uh…”

“S-sorry,” you stutter out and retreat back, bowing your head as your face feels horrendously warm. Somewhere behind you, Tifa poorly attempts to hide a giggle.

“It’s fine.” His tone is back to his usual curt manner. “Come on - we should head back.” And without another word, Cloud spins on his heels and storms off ahead.

“Cloud, wait up!” Tifa calls, threading her arm through yours to pull you along with her. “He’ll get there – don’t worry.”

--

You’d taken the blade in to the weapons store below the Watch’s HQ after reporting in, Cloud and Tifa following behind. The proprietor dutifully inspected it for a few moments before deeming it beyond reasonable repair - said he could re-forge it, but it would only last a hit or two before it snapped in two again and he didn’t want the bad advertisement. He’d offered some gil for the scrap metal value and waved to the selection of his ready-made wares. Even with the gil he’d proposed and from your own pocket, the prices made your eyes water.

“Can I pay in instalments?”

He scoffs.

“You know I’m good for it.”

“This ain’t a charity, kid.”

“Here.” Cloud had stepped forward then, placing a pouch of gil on the counter. “That should cover it.”

“What?” Your eyes widened in disbelief. Cloud had been hounding Tifa and Barret for his pay for days and you knew he still hadn’t received all of it yet. “No, I couldn’t – that’s yours.”

“You need a weapon.” He shrugs, Tifa bouncing on her heels behind him at his act of generosity, a told you so smile plastered across her face. “Pay me back in instalments, if you want. I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods, crossing his arms. “You’re good with a blade, it would be a waste for you not to have one.”

Your scalp tingles at the compliment.

The blades all felt lighter - maybe you’d grown stronger over time? - though they were thinner in width in comparison to your old blade. You’d performed a cautionary test swing of each towards the back of the shop but they all felt off, unbalanced. Begrudgingly, one felt a little less odd to wield so you’d settled with that, thankful it was a mid-range price of the selection so you hadn’t needed the entirety of Cloud’s gil pouch.

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can – I promise.”

Cloud shrugs, as usual.

--

You swing at the tower of boxes you’d assembled in the middle of the wasteland, trying to be precise and knock out the one in the middle, but as soon as you release the momentum you nearly lose your balance, missing entirely. If you were in combat, it would’ve been a pathetic sight to behold. Thankfully, you were the only one to wit-

“Hi.”

You jump, spinning on your heels to face the blonde mercenary, holding your blade aloft in a defensive stance to an unimpressed face.

“Cloud! Hi.” Your heart is pounding at his sudden arrival – how could you not have heard him approaching? You lower your blade to rest on the floor. “Sorry, did I wake you when I left?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep so I heard you leave.” He folds his arms, looking a little displeased. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own, you know? It’s not safe.”

“I wanted to get some practice in, that’s all.” You look down at the sword in your hand in demonstration. “There’s been no more wererats here since you cleaned out the nest either, so it’s safe enough.”

“It’s not just fiends I’m talking about.”

That’s true – unfortunately, you weren’t a complete stranger to the troopers that often patrolled the slums. All it took was one to recognize your face and you’d be dragged to Shinra HQ faster than you could blink.

“I really need to get used to the weight, though. Barret wants to strike any day and-“

“Fine. I’ll spar with you.”

You weren’t expecting that. “Really?”

“Why not?” He reaches back for his sword, before swinging it out in front of him playfully. “Unless you’re scared.”

You bite your lip in a smile. “Bring it on, Strife.”

Cloud holds back at first, acting more as a training dummy for you to swing at. He doesn’t even need to deflect any of your blows at the beginning, but as you become familiar with the weight and how the new blade swings, finally he starts to raise his sword in return, the sound of metal clashing echoing through the air before one firm blow sends you toppling back, the Buster Sword now inches above your neck.

“Better.” He pulls back his sword and offers you his hand, which you gratefully accept, bracing yourself for his strength this time to avoid what had happened that afternoon. “Try again.”

You’re not sure how much time passes like that, but steadily your confidence in your weapon grows and it turns into a proper sparring bout, both giving it your absolute all. As your blades clash, crossed in front of each other’s faces, you risk a smile at the blonde merc. Suddenly, Cloud’s forearms lose their tension, meaning you get an upperhand you were not expecting. You swing your sword out to the right and fall forward, Cloud toppling backwards, his sword to his right, and his head smacking into the ground as you fall on top of him.

“Oh… Shiva,” you gasp, heart pounding, your thighs somehow straddling around his. “Are you hurt?”

Cloud doesn’t reply, staring up at you in bemusement as he tries to catch his breath.

“Cloud?” You lean down, planting your hands either side of his head for balance.

He lifts his head, suddenly, and presses a kiss to your lips.

Your arms go limp and you drop into his embrace, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close as you return the kiss, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, fingers curling into his blonde hair, blissfully lost in the moment until there is an odd, inhuman sound from behind you.

Cloud sits bolt upright, twisting you as he does so you’re sat in his lap, one arm still wrapped tightly around your waist and, somehow, the Buster Sword back in his other hand as he holds it out in defense.

A cat sits a few meters in front of the two of you, flicking its tail back and forth curiously. You feel his muscles relax beneath your touch at the realization. You get to your feet then, grabbing your blade as you do so and securing it against your back. Though you feel flustered, you can’t turn down the opportunity to offer Cloud an assisting hand this time.

To your delight, he accepts, somehow twisting it as he stands in order to intertwine your fingers within his.

“We… We, er, should get back.” He mumbles.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He leads you back through the tunnel, silently, fingers still laced, and back towards Stargazer Heights. You climb the stairs together before he brings you to a stop outside your door, hesitating. Your stomach twists – does he regret what happened? Are you just to wake up tomorrow morning and it will feel like nothing but a dream?

A firm squeeze of your hand brings you back to the present, as if he could read your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about that for a while.” Cloud whispers, cautious of his voice carrying through the neighbours’ door. “It’s… unfortunate that we were interrupted.”

You place a hand on your door handle and smile, coyly. “Would you like to come in?”

Cloud smirks. “Do you have any pets?”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

[i4oba]

nct dream as… / times of a day 𓈒✳︎🚃

[— might be a little suggestive here and there!]

✰ 6:45 am .. jaemin

helios, through the half lidded eyes of yours was there to greet both of you at the same time—you could feel its hands coming near your bare body, the rays of the sun hugging your shape perfectly, casting such beautiful silhouettes behind, you and jaemin blending all together in your hazy state. you could feel the weight of his arms on your waist, hugging you so tight, sweet nothings leaving his lips, barely above a breath, hoarse voice laced with sleep. his scent, the sweet fragrance is dizzying, the warmth of him engulfing you just as much as helios’ breath of the morning; the sky is rosy, as if it was blushing while taking its time to fully wake up, faint shades of orange and yellow dancing through it endlessly. it’s such a beautiful way to start a day, with your lover all over you, deeply ingrained in your existence.

✰ 1:20 pm .. chenle

with the fierce determination of hermes, an arm slung around your waist; you were there—sun burning the uncovered skin of your shoulders, sweat making its way down on your temples as you took a look at the beautiful postcard in your hands, quickly snatched from a souvenir shop you passed barely twenty minutes ago. with such beautiful words and phrases, cursive letters and the scent of blooming flowers, you handed it over to your lover, hands aching to intertwine. he takes it, honest smile on his face, mumbling something along the line of “i’m the luckiest guy around”, wanting nothing but strolling around the foreign city for the rest of the day, stopping just for a minute in front of a pastry shop. there are freshly baked croissants!

✰ 3:25 pm .. jisung

was it all just a coincidence or did he know about all of it, you cannot be quite sure of but you, in fact enjoyed the way he pulled you straight into the sudden dancing flashmob. the sun was shining, birds singing endlessly along with the folk music played by a kind-looking band of teenagers, flute and harp harmonising together with the occasional sound of the guitar; you did not know how to dance or what kind of dance you should think of, but your lover pulled you closer to himself and took the lead, precise moves following one another as you felt yourself become a gracious nymph all of a sudden, trapped in a human’s fragile body. “honey, you’re doing so great,” jisung beamed happily, hands travelling lower on your skin, smile so wide and heartwarming. “i love you, so much,” he mumbled into your ears, voice losing the battle against the beautiful music.

✰ 7:05 pm .. jeno

with dionysus musing in your ears, you take a sip of the rich, sweet red wine your lover poured a few seconds before. the important event you two should have gone to long forgotten, with absolutely lust filled intentions you touch jeno’s rosy lips, tugging at his messily made tie, thighs rubbing against each other as you pulled him closer to yourself. the voice of dionysus slowly fading, you could feel the inviting hands of eros, guiding every movement of yours with extra care, fully planned with a hint of sinful acts. you sighs against your boyfriend’s mouth, not caring about consequences, reputation nor anything else, as you put his hands on either side of your hips. you wanted him—you needed him at that exact moment, the taste of his lips intoxicating, almost too permanent.

✰ 8:50 pm .. renjun

with lips slightly parted, tongue darting out to wet them quickly, renjun focused on the way your bare body looked behind the canvas. he couldn’t keep his eyes off of your curves, the way your hands did such a bad job at hiding yourself, timid reflection making it all too complicated to even think about anything but you. he felt drunk, as he watched your neck, the beautiful thighs of yours, wanting nothing more than to look deeply into your eyes and touch you, touch you everywhere he can and everywhere you’d let him to do so; you were everything and even more, compared to helen of troy, magical and enchanting, alluring. “can you please finish that painting, my junnie…” you mumbled quietly, shaking your head slightly. “i need you.”

✰ 10:45 pm .. haechan

“you should never come back to this studio, man, taeyong will kick your ass,” you laughed so hard, tears were about to fall out of your eyes, replaying the freshly made song of your boyfriend. he was a self proclaimed master producer but the thing is—it was rather funny than good. of course you appreciated his effort in making a lovesong for you, to confess for the hundreth time and once more. you were his muse supposedly and even if it was unlistenable, you loved it. at least more than taeyong, who would be furious if he knew you two were there, late into the night, making out on the couch of his studio until your lips were swollen, out of breath and with only one thing in your mind: love, love and love. you would never do anything else, even if it meant taking the risk of battling twelve times like heracles.

✰ 11:35 pm .. mark

being faced with the rolling credits after god know’s how many movies being watched, you slowly rested your head on mark’s shoulder. you reached out for his hand so you could take it in yours, not caring about silly actors’ and actresses’ love affairs or the world ending in front of you. all that mattered was the two of you, the adoration you felt for him, how he needed to have you close to him. his hair falling into his eyes, you tried to brush it away from there cautiously, caressing his cheek ever so lightly. you’ve never wanted to kiss him more than you did at that moment, every rational thought vanishing from your brain at the beautiful sight of him, as if he was the long lost son of the oh so wonderful aphrodite. “do it, love. kiss me and i’m yours,” was all he said quietly.

[fayfaygoes]

The recent discourse on Twitter about Zayne's age being 30+ "cuz there's NO WAY" got me thinking.

There was news of young child prodigy in my country who achieved milestones of students/children who are older than him , and their parents continued with it .

It was all fine until he couldn't do well in the Certificate examination ..and exam we give around age of 19-21 when he was atleast 5years younger . So basically now it's over since this GPA is very important to get jobs or to get selected for University or higher education.

Not only he couldn't get to be a child in those years , everything turned out bad because of mistakes in the last but most important steps.

Then I also saw a news of someone graduating at age of 17 ..with people commenting she should take years off and be a child that she couldn't be .

My point is -

these people exists . Young prodigy or merit/gifted children often subjected to fate like this . And sometimes that results very badly for them as they grow up.

But sometimes their consistency doesn't let them meet that failure.

Like the graduates ,and for our case , Our favourite chief surgeon Zayne .

Everytime I saw how many find it unbelievable that he is in his late twenties I get reminded of IRL examples and tender moment "Delicacy" that answers all these doubts.

And with how people prefer Older experienced surgeons , the fact that he GAINED the trust to become a Chief at such young age is NO JOKE.

Rereading Delicacy got me wondering-

How much he probably didn't get to be a Child or a teen because he was drowned in books and busy excelling academically.

How much he had to compete in higher classes with classmates older than him.

because in his word "Time is luxury for student in hellishly competitive medical school"

The fact he didn't have any ,I repeat, ANYone to call his friends because everyone is older than him & he was transferring fast ,on top he comes across as awkward in narrow lense.

How isolating that might have felt now that we get to know how he loves company.

What else he could do except study more and more and more?? Which resulted him excelling further & further.

With how affection craved he is , did he miss those times where someone would knock at him door and ask him out to play with her .

He can't get his Teen life back ,nor get to experience what it likes to be a Normal students enjoying the life of ''being a student''

The fact that he was introduced to us as 27 speaks volumes.

the fact he is younger makes it even more sadder .

He graduated and became doctor at such young age because he has talents & merits .

It's also because he didn't have any other option but to keep going .

He admits that it wasn't due his "passion for learning" when MC asked him

But ,Rather

And it's just-

thanks to twitter that I went back to my roots and I found more reason to fall harder and harder for him as I wipe my tears.

He deserves all the fun and affection that he missed in those years because he had to grow up faster than his age required. And now he deserves someone by his side that understand and pampers him , stroke his back , hug him ,reassures him.

Tell him that it's okay to reunite with his inner child , everything will be alright because we will never leave him.

[inkskinned]

im having a particularly terrible night with urges and imagery that i dont know how to handle. i gave in to some things. held back on some others. but im barely holding on, dear internet stranger.

you do not owe me your time or your words.. but if you could write some hope into existence for me.. i would be unendingly grateful to you.

please. tell me how you do it. tell me how you survive. because im not so sure i can get through the fifteen days it'll take to get to my seventeenth birthday.

could you please give me something to place my faith in? i dont think the universe is watching out for me anymore.

i don't usually answer these, because i am not a professional, and you deserve professional help. when i was 17 i was terrified of the idea of professional help, because my household was extremely unsafe, and made it clear that if i ever chose to get help, i would be punished for it.

i hope this is not your case. i hope that you can call someone, and they can take you where you should go.

but i will give you the advice that i wish i got, when i couldn't get help at 17, when i was so bad that years later, i literally don't-know-how-i-survived it: what you want is peace, not death. your brain is sick. it has romanticized an ending where there are no consequences. where effort isn't necessary. where you can just... forget.

you want peace. that is a normal, human thing to want. maybe it feels more like you want quiet. or just... to take a break for a second.

here is what i will say: to end yourself means you never get to experience what it's like to actually be happy. i thought i knew what it was like, and i was bitter about it. i'd say - i've been happy, it's not worth it, because i didn't know what i was missing. i thought that happiness meant having a partner or having a job or money or a college degree. it sounded like effort. it sounded like something that had to happen to me.

for the first time in my life, just this week, i was able to go to a concert and just-enjoy-it. no liquor, no drugs. just stomping my feet and getting caught up in it. i didn't feel nervous or self-conscious or overwhelmed. i just had a good time. these days have a lot of these firsts for me - it is the first time i can eat cake without crying. it is the first time i can be around an exacto blade without supervision. it is the first time i have too many people to call when i am crying.

i can't tell you where you'll run into happiness, only that, for me, it started once i was out of that fucking house. it started once i figured out where the pain was coming from. once i figured out that i was not possessed, something medical was wrong with me. that i am not stupid or lazy, i have depression and adhd. the first few years were difficult. at 19, during my efforts to recover, i actually got worse by a considerable margin. and then, with time and patience - i got better.

happiness doesn't feel like what you think it will. in movies it's so golden and all-encompassing. but it doesn't fly into your hands when you buy your first car nor does it arrive in the arms of a partner nor does it require passing your classes. happiness came to me on a tuesday in the form of a red-winged blackbird, and i looked at her, and she looked at me, and i said - oh. the whole world suddenly filled itself in with color. like i had been forever-asleep. like every corner of every room was suddenly glistening.

it ended quickly, back then. it just stopped in to check in on me. but it was enough - this thing i had never experienced, but that i knew (logically) could happen. before that, i was only staying because it would make my mom sad if i died. that was my only reason. and then the happiness came, so strange and brilliant and lovely that for years i couldn't even look at it directly.

these days, things are so different. life is so much easier. i don't wish for death because so much of what i have is already at peace. my boss understands when i need a mental health day. people in general are less prone to high school drama. entire communities hold my hand and have my number. i have a car and a dog and a little apartment garden and candles on all available surfaces and today i bought myself a little cake just-to-celebrate-nothing. my body is my own and we are both dancing.

there are so many things i've gotten to taste in the last 10 years. i know, for you, that is an eon, because it's more than half of your life. but if it helps? in the 5 years between 17-21: i filled myself with laughter and love. i got to be a lead in a ballet and got my first tattoo and then my second and pierced my ears the way i'd wanted to (one of them professionally the other over a hot stove with a potato) and i discovered hozier is my favorite singer (i know. he was new back then) and i got my first real job and my first real paycheck and i hadn't ever been seen as smart but then i started to actually treat my adhd as a condition rather than a burden and people started saying you're like the smartest person in the room and my best friend met her husband who i will one day stand next to as maid of honor when he is her groom and i got to help people and make a stupid blog called "inkskinned" and find out that writing is actually my passion and that maybe i'm actually kind of good at it if i just practice and i got to meet my parents' dog (his name is kaiju) and i slept on couches and kissed people and tried new things and learned how to breathe without feeling my chest tighten and that peace is here, on this planet, that peace echoes everywhere, it is in my hair and my homework and my houseplants, it is quiet and divine and mine because i fought for it and i built it and yes i lost hair over it but holy shit the whole world feels like it is shifted through a sunbeam

recently someone asked me if i could go back in time to 6th grade, with all the knowledge i have now, would i? and without thinking, i barked absolutely not. i know i should say it's because i wouldn't want to risk losing any of this stuff - but really it's because i would never survive being a teenager again. it sounds incredibly lame and impossible, fake - but being a teenager was the hardest thing i ever did. i had no voice, no control, only fear and hatred.

but i did survive it. nothing about me is special. nothing about me is stronger than you or better prepared or more efficient. i didn't survive it perfectly. i made a lot of mistakes and lost a lot of friends and harmed myself in ways that i'm still recovering from. but i did survive it. and there is a part of me looking at you in the past and saying - i'm you in the future.

and holy shit. every day. every goddamn day i'm glad we survived to see the rest of it. because you hit 18 and everything changes. like, everything. and holy shit, it is infinitely worth it.

[familyagrestefanblog]

Jep, this is basically it.

A+ additional tags 👏👏

ML Hot Take

Chat noir is hiding just as much from Ladybug as she is from him, and they are both doing it just so the other is kept safe and unburdened because they both have a flawed understanding of the other, which leaves them both at fault for the ladynoir fall out.

[cozy-writes-things]

Electric Love: Pt. 1

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

All of my fics so far have followed the same universe, so I thought it's only logical that I post an introduction to that universe.

The old man peering at you through puffy eyes and age seemed to have an air shrouded in mystery. His thin, white wisps of hair seemed to stagnate in place as he adjusted his button down.

“This old thing has been around for years now,” he gruffed—an unreadable tone—as his hand encased the yellowed plastic, “I don’t remember what happened to it; must have dropped it, or let some animal chip away at it.”

The dingy, vintage computer before your eyes surely had not been dropped, nor torn into by some animal. It sat upon his countertop completely destroyed; as if it had burst and shattered from the inside out, ripping the glass into jagged shards. You swallowed this thought; this was no time to debate the old man. He seemed to be quite senile as it was and pushing any further seemed like a fruitless effort. Instead, you stretched a thin smile his way, pursing your lips in thought.

“You actually think you can get this thing to work again?” he queried, raising a salt and pepper brow at your expression.

“Well, I’m not sure, but… I’d like to try,” what you hadn’t told him, however, was your infatuation with electronics. Ever since completing your bachelor’s in computer science, you have been tinkering away at many different projects in between jobs, building custom PCs, fixing old Game Boys, and many others. This little computer was an addition to your ever growing collection.

It came from a company you had never heard of before, only to learn it had become defunct in the 80s due to some inexplicable software issues in their products. This certainly intrigued you, as prodding into its code could provide some useful insight to real, vintage tech that just doesn’t exist anymore. But, that’s only if you manage to fix the heap of destruction limply hung before you.

The old man stiffened at your words, ever so slightly, before rattling out, “Well, if you do, don’t bring it anywhere near me. I can’t stand all this tech, and gadgets, and whatnot. Pisses me off.”

“Right,” you interjected, knowing people like him tend to go on long, anti-future, anti-technology rants, trying desperately to beat him to the punch, “well, how much do you want for it?”

He stilled, contemplating for a moment, “twenty-five should be fine.”

“Perfect,” you chirped, padding against your pockets and bag searching for some cash. Pulling out your wallet, you waded around the folds, only to find a crumpled up and faded ten dollar bill and a debit card.

“Ah, I’ve only got a ten…”

He rolled his eyes, “of course you do, you got PayPal, then?” Your cheeks flushed a burning red hot from embarrassment, “ah, yes, I do-”

“Great, just pay me that way,” he bent down and scribbled something messily onto a note, “here’s my information. I made sure to set this up for people like you, you know. Nobody carries cash anymore, or so my grandson tells me.”

You force out a nervous chuckle.

“That’s certainly true… these days, ah…” you unlocked your phone and began inputting his information into PayPal before pressing send on the digital payment, “okay, it went through.”

“Perfect. You need help getting this hunk of junk to your car?”

“No, I should be fine, thank you, sir,” you croak as you heave the broken computer into your arms, heading towards his door.

“Well, come back if you want to buy anything else. Nobody goes to yard sales anymore, it seems.”

You can only turn your head and chuckle at his quip, before awkwardly dashing out of his apartment and towards your car. The dampened asphalt from the rain squelched under your toes as you lugged the large piece of tech to the passenger side.

“There,” you whispered, to nobody in particular, as you awkwardly buckled the computer in place, “hopefully you won’t fall that way.”

And just like that, you were off, headed towards home to begin the massive project that was repairing this obsolete device.

“What to do with you?”

You groaned as you thumped the solid mass of plastic and metal against your desk, “you’re incredibly broken.”

First and foremost, it needs a screen replacement. Which is easier said than done. Especially considering the company who manufactured these things hasn’t existed in 40 years. Unfortunately, a close replica will have to do. Maybe you could even upgrade its screen with something with a bit more prowess.

Poking inside of its components seemed to tell a different story. Miraculously, none of the motherboards were damaged with the same ferocity the screen had been. There seemed to be some sort of dried, caked on water damage of some sort, that left a sticky residue, but otherwise, everything seemed to be relatively intact. The yellowed casing could use a wipe down from the thick layer of starchy dust, but it seemed to hold its original shape with surprising ease.

Following a closer inspection, it seemed as though the glass screen, and the components in charge of illuminating it, were the only things in need of replacing. A quick browse on Amazon, some tech forums, and a post on Reddit should be a good start in finding a usable replacement for this sad, broken gadget.

For now, however, you get some isopropyl alcohol and a soft bristled toothbrush to chip away at the water damage on the motherboards in hopes of restoring the electrical connections. You were quite hopeful that you’d get this little guy up and running just as soon as you could find the right parts. It’s only a matter of time.

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

All these posts I see with the nerve to say, "We'll be alright, we'll be okay, we'll continue to fight, we'll continue to hope," have made me more weary than the plain truth.

It's over. That's it, it's over. Our country has been taken from us.

The genocide will be invigorated, and any hope of U.S. pressure bringing it to an end is gone. I'm so sorry.

Everyone with a uterus will lose any semblance of human rights they once enjoyed. You can say goodbye to being considered a human being, you can say goodbye to any consensus whatsoever that your very life ever mattered.

Every queer and transgender person will face outright persecution and lose the right to so much as exist as themselves, alongside which even cishet people will lose all right to self-expression.

Immigrants will lose whatever fragile hold they had allowing them to pursue life and happiness in this country and will be forced away from their families, jobs, and loved ones if not worse.

Police abuse against people of color and any political dissenters will be invigorated and their immunity from justice will expand.

The prices will continue to rise and the wages will drop or remain stagnant at best.

Disabled Americans, including any American with any pre-existing condition, will lose all access to healthcare as medical costs will skyrocket and our meager insurance will be stripped of us. We will be left in the street to die.

So don't fucking tell me to "hold onto hope" and don't you dare fucking tell me "we will be okay." Who is we? It isn't me, or any of my friends or loved ones. There is not a single person I know that doesn't fall into at least one of the above-mentioned categories. Not one person in this country am I acquainted with who has neither a functioning uterus, nor ANY medical condition whatsoever, nor is an immigrant or from an immigrant family, nor is a person of color, nor is a member of the LGBTQ+ community. Think about it. Do you?

So, in God's name, who the fuck is "gonna be okay"? Anyone lucky enough to survive? Anyone who lucks out and manages to avoid a dangerous pregnancy (which will be soo easy once we lose access to birth control, I'm sure), or manages to stay under the ICE's radar, or manages not to be pulled over by a pig who needs to take out his rage over his wife surviving her last beating, or manages to not get sick or injured ever again? That's somehow not as comforting as people think it is.

And as for the genocide, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry that my country has once again failed the people of Palestine. I hope all the people who abstained from voting because Kamala wasn't pro-Palestinian enough feel really good about themselves when they watch countless more children being slaughtered as Israel is bolstered in its capacity to accelerate the genocide beyond any level we've seen thusfar. I'm so, so sorry to my brothers and sisters in Palestine. I'm so sorry that we failed you.

This isn't to say we should stop fighting. But the time for hope and handholding and singing kumbaya is over. Compassion and love have failed, today has proved that. Violence is our only option left.

[mariacallous]

And I am not anti-men! I am not a rabid manhater!

But I am also not blind nor deaf nor stupid, and I also know that so many who would take Reeves up on his proposals and ideas would reduce the resources and focus that do exist and that are geared towards women and girls, and redirect or dilute that.

And I don't think that any effort to address the disparities and issues facing men and boys that doesn't confront the very real element of misogyny and inequality is going to succeed. If boys didn't think school was "too feminine", if certain fields weren't "women's jobs", if homemaking and family rearing weren't seen as "mother's role", would we have these issues?

The reason a lot of men and boys either incline towards or support the right is because they unquestioningly get coddled and feted and told how naturally awesome they are, how they should inherently be in charge, how that's the proper role - nevermind that such traditional views are also contributing to the negative outcomes and consequences for everyone, but also men and boys.

If someone says "You, just by how you were born (which by the way is unchanging and otherwise is a perversion and crime against nature and How Things Should Be), are the dominant force and anyone who tells you otherwise is evil and should be, at the very least, held below you", why wouldn't you go for that? Why would you care about any actual policies and counterarguments?

[theyjustadmitthathuh]

Hi I'm not a radfem but I'm a believer in learning about all political idealogies/opinions so that I can better construct my own beliefs/opinions

It's pretty obvious what the radfem opinion on trans women is, that you think they're invading women's spaces, predatory, etc, but I'm curious what the opinion of trans men (or trans identifying women, I think your term is?) and nonbinary/genderqueer people. I don't see it talked about super often so I'm just sort of curious what radfems think about it.

btw this is not meant to be a hate ask to to stir up shit or anything, I would just genuinely like to know so I can expand my understandings of different political views

I’d like to start out by saying that trans women are no more predatory than cis men, and that predators will flock to any movement that gives them deniability. This means that I dont believe that trans women inherently by the fact of being trans or crossdressing or taking hormones, are predators, nor do I think that male predators are inherently more apt to be feminine or crossdress or take hrt. I think it’s more comparable to teachers (or cops but teachers are a safer analogy).

Not all teachers abuse students. Abusers do not inherently feel the desire to teach children. And yet, many teachers abuse students because teaching is a profession where only few people can actually say no to or question you. Teachers have a boss- they can be stopped there, although usually not- teachers have students’ parents to question them, but many parents are burnt out, overworked, or just do not care. This means as long as abusive people are smart about their methods, an abusive person could become a teacher and have plenty of victims with no way out who truly believe this is correct and fair. Doesn’t that seem appealing to them? But! If they taught at a different school, perhaps one where the principal stops this kind of thing or the parents are very involved, the abusive person would either never get the job or get fired/arrested quite quickly.

This is what we’re saying is happening with some trans women. I’d like to stop here in my explanation to expound on another fact that often gets misconstrued when we have these conversations: i dont believe anyone is inherently trans. I believe that “being trans” or “having gender dysphoria” (which I do believe is a subset of body dysmorphia) is caused by negative sexist stereotypes and the inability to live up to them. What is there to make one feel like a different sex other than stereotypes about the other sex? I mean truly, in order for me to feel male, wouldnt I have to know how it feels to be male? How would I know that? All I know is the stereotypes about being male, and those stereotypes are sexist. If I’m relating to male people more than female people in daily life, that’s because men are human and maybe I need to work on why I cant relate to other women. (Side note: working on relating to other women over relating to men has helped my gender dysphoria more than crossdressing or being called sir)

So anyway, with that covered, you have a group of (most gay/bi) men who don’t fit in to sexist stereotypes trying desperately to live their lives. Sad, but not hurting anyone. Then it became a mainstream theory. “What if people actually did have souls and they got switched up? Or maybe it’s in the brain?? It could be inherent! Should it be a protected trait?” Still no one is listening to the gay men who could tell you why they did it. (And nobody knows about the trans men who exist now because they NEED it that way for escaping misogyny)

So now those gay/bi men are a minority, and this culture of questioning a trans person being the same as murder came out. Are you seeing the parallels yet? This is the culture, the atmosphere, the environment, that is alluring to predators. We may as well be running a church with the way questions and outside sources get you blocked by everyone who once called you a friend. And tell a predator going to prison that all he has to do is go by she/her to keep abusing women and he will do that. So we have all these trans women, who are not transitioning in the original spirit, being predators and ruining the public’s understanding of what a transgender person is and is trying to do. Basically, men kept abusing women and being predators, but now they have a new deniability to try on when it suits them. I know the argument “it’s a lot of work to transition why would they do that?” Well it’s a lot of work to become a teacher or a minister or the pope or a gynecologist, but there are all men who’ve admitting to doing those things to get victims that couldn’t fight back.

So, now that hopefully, you understand that I’m not a lunatic who thinks that estrogen in a male body makes a man abusive or that somehow abusers crave estrogen and frills, we can move on to your question about trans men.

Basically the same thing except women dont have the social power to abuse that men do. There’s no posts going around like “if a trans man rapes you no he didnt” or “youre just a trans mans flesh doll” or “if I hear that a trans man is racist then I’m going to assume whoever told me is transphobic” (quotes of posts i’ve seen reblogged about trans women) because there’s little to no female solidarity like there is male solidarity (the concept that a man will side with another man he hates or disagrees with over any woman, even one he agrees with), so I’m not saying that men being predatory is biological or anything, I’m saying that trans men simply do not have the social power nor class solidarity needed to call predators to their ranks in droves. Are there predatory trans men? Yes there’s predatory every kind of person.

So, if there’s very little social power gained with becoming a trans man, why are there more female trans people than male trans people? Because women are oppressed on the basis of sex. Escaping that oppression is the number one reason for transitioning (whether ftm or nb) for female humans. Whether it be sexual assault, harassment, or misogyny intersecting with other things like racism, homophobia, or the oppression associated with gender non-conformity, most trans men have a story to tell of a time they would have been treated better as a boy or man or a time they would have been not hurt if they were male. I know my transition story centered around my hatred of being a lesbian. I’m coming to terms with that in a more healthy way now, and not by pretending to be a straight man.

Other than the vague theories surrounding the movement and the real consequences of it, trans people are just people. Some are shit some are cool. Some realize what theyre doing and just think this is the best way to live with their shit, some are unaware and truly think they were born into a body that is not their own, and some are running a game.

Here, I’m mostly concerned with using logic to try to get people to become a little more self aware. (And passing the time at work) But if I can reblog a rant about “afab trans women” and make someone realize that we’re all saying the same things here and maybe we can reach an agreement and work together, great! If I can reblog a misogynist rant in the disguise of a trans rights rant and get someone to notice what theyre agreeing with, great!

If not, well this is a silly little blog. Radical feminism is much much much much much more than the trans issue. I’m busy helping women in abusive situations and trying to foster female friendship and solidarity. Imo, if we could get female solidarity with all female humans (cis women, trans men, female nbs) that would truly be a better world than one where no woman transitions but also no woman stands with one another.

(I know you also asked about nbs and genderqueer ppl but as I dont believe any form of trans is inherent, there is little difference to me between a trans man and an afab nb genderqueer person in terms of identity. Obviously each person is unique in terms of personality.)

I enjoy these types of questions, and if there’s anything that wasn’t clear or anything that you’re still wondering about, feel free to send another anon or dm me or whatevs! Thanks for the question! 😊

[molinaskies]

Lanolin: Designed to be Dislikable.

Hi friends. I’ve had a number of people in my digital face over the last few months trying to “show me the light of Lanolin,” but I’ve kept these interactions private because there’s no need to put them on blast. Of course, they're mostly respectful and I’m often reminded that I have a right to my opinion, but there is always an undercurrent that I might have just missed this one small tidbit that could blow the case wide open because how could I possibly not like her? How could I not understand her character and be empathetic to her plight?

But I’ve watched the videos. I’ve read the think pieces. I’ve seen it all. But my opinion hasn’t changed and that does not mean I’m wrong… nor does it mean I’m right! We have two different opinions that should be allowed to co-exist.

I’m being a touch cross here, I recognize. Please forgive me for that, this once. But frankly, I am frustrated—not because people like Lanolin, but because many seem incredulous to the fact that I dislike her. And I can only assume that means I simply have not made myself clear.

Consider this my final take on Lanolin the Sheep until there is some significant development for this character.

I am allowed to dislike Lanolin because she is a fictional character whom I’ve done the research on and have come to that conclusion. Done. That’s all she wrote. Go home.

That aside entirely for the sake of argument, I am allowed to dislike Lanolin because she is supposed to be unlikeable as per her role in this story. I dislike Lanolin because I dislike assholes, but I also like Lanolin because she is doing her job very fucking well! lol

Lanolin is not supposed to be in the right. She is a character who is making major mistakes due to her lack of experience combined with her arrogant dismissal of others, and she will eventually be punished by Mimic’s betrayal to teach the audience some sort of lesson. If half of this comic’s runtime has been about punishing Sonic—the titular character—for his mistakes, then Lanolin can get punished once. I would bet real world money that this will happen.

So many characters are sus of Duo by now and have tried to do something about it but Lanolin gets in the way because she can’t listen to reason. The only reason Silver and Whisper “go rogue” is because Lanolin wouldn’t listen to reason—and her response was still disproportionate because when Whisper tried again to explain herself, Lanolin made her hit the deck.

Lanolin is Sonic with some pieces missing. We know this because Lanolin directly cites Sonic as her inspiration for getting involved in the restoration. However, Lanolin looks at Sonic, sees his behaviour, and emulates it without any understanding or regard for how he has earned the right to do what he does. Sonic is insolent, not arrogant, because he only denies authority when it isn’t earned. Sonic is defiant, not self-righteous, because he believes there are multiple ways to solve a problem. Sonic is empathetic, not sympathetic, because he takes the time to learn and experience what it means to live on the other side. Lanolin has modelled herself off of Sonic because Sonic is a hero, but she’s missed the bigger picture of what that actually means.

Lanolin is cold, unkind, and unwilling to be wrong because she thinks she knows everything she needs to be in this game. That is inherently unlikable to some people and therefore justified.

But there’s more to this, isn’t there?

A huge defence of Lanolin as a character is that “she has baggage that makes her rough around the edges,” and you know what? Fair! You would not believe how empathetic I am to that, trust me. Imma get into it. But the reality of the case is that Lanolin is her own keeper, and if Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, Rouge, the Chaotix, Tangle, Whisper, Silver, Blaze, Jewel, Belle, and many others can carry their baggage around and still treat others with respect and without verbal and physical abuse, then there’s no excuse. Yes, it takes time to get there, and the whole point of Lanolin as a character is that she hasn’t learned the “everyone is useful just the way they are” and “a leader is nothing without her team” lessons, yet.

But allowing Lanolin to lash out at the world only to let her hide behind her trauma is a deeply reductive portrayal of trauma survivors that I find aggressively problematic. Further, it is a failure to Lanolin as a character because, again, that is not the fucking point of her.

This is the one time I will ever ask anyone here to just “take my word” for something. I’m not comfortable airing out too much of my personal issues on the internet. But below is what I can share.

I come from a very, very broken home that instilled a lot of unproductive defence mechanisms within me. In short, I used to be very mean because I was neglected, and acting out against my peers and showing off my skills gave me attention.

The big ticket, though, is I thought I was good. I thought I was Great. Awesome. Outstanding. AMAZING. I was a natural-born leader with a drive for justice who was good at a couple things. I thought I was doing everything right because teachers liked me and I was getting opportunities. What I never saw—never could have possibly seen until it was spit right in my face—was how I was treating everyone around me as beneath me because I thought I had it in the bag.

It wasn’t until I learned about a very public smear campaign against me that I got a wake up call. When I saw what people were saying, it shattered my entire paradigm not because of just how heinous it was, but because of how much of it was true—and that broke my heart. All I have ever wanted to do was help people. Fight for people. Protect people. Elevate people. Support people. For me to learn I was doing the exact opposite of what I set out to do absolutely destroyed me.

After that, I immediately switched up my game. I pulled out all the stops and really focused on being kinder, empathetic, and encouraging. I started to become more self-aware and mindful of how my emotions and behaviour impacted others, but it still took years to even start to comprehend that I was traumatized, let alone the ways my trauma impacted my relationships and behaviour.

I used to be Lanolin. I was a mean girl getting progressively meaner from ages 11-17, and I am still in active recovery. I still make mistakes. I still fall from grace occasionally, but I am working on it. I’m almost 24 now.

Remember when this used to be about a cartoon sheep? Back on track LOL.

I promise you that while Lanolin has some moments of clarity, she is not largely aware of what she’s doing. She’s not evil. She is not unworthy of love. She just needs time for the story to let her learn.

I am not saying Lanolin does not deserve a redemption. What I am saying is that down her current path and with her current behaviour, she has not yet earned one. And here’s the thing: even though what I’m about to say probably will not happen because this is a kids comic directed at 12 year olds, just because Lanolin might eventually get her punishment, see the light, and apologize for her wrongs while acting on solutions, no one she hurt owes her forgiveness. Whisper can still tell her to fuck off. Silver can send her to outer space, Sonic 06-style. Tangle can yeet her back to kingdom-wherever the fuck she-come from (hush, I know it’s Riverside). 

Why? Because the reality is that even if you are a changed person and have learned and grown from your past discretions, you still hurt people. Even if they do forgive you, they may never trust, and they will never forget. That is the reality I and many others like me live in daily, and to be frank: I think it’s entirely fair. I made mistakes, and I gotta pay the consequences. I deserve grace and patience, but that can only go so far. The people around me are human the exact same way I am.

I personally believe that I have never misunderstood Lanolin as a character. She’s snarky and inexperienced and abrasive entirely by design. She is meant to showcase the “wrong” ways to be a hero and will be corrected. But just because she is a rough-and-tumble person who had a bad day at work does not mean she can come home and treat the world as her personal shitter. No one has that right.

And if you disagree with me, good! Welcome to MolinaSkies.

[captainsparklefingers]

One of the things I'm taking away from the second go round of Dracula Daily (and particularly from David Ault's excellent performance in Re: Dracula) is how much I like Lord Arthur Godalming.

Like. On the surface and the first time round he stands out the least of Lucy's suitors, and given how much time we hear from Jack, he can come off the most developed. Quincy, of course, gives us a heck of a lot of personality with relatively little (again, compared to how much we get from Jack). Arthur, though, doesn't have the same volume of words to develop, nor the instantly clear personality. He's just Lucy's fiancee, Jack and Quincy's friend, the heroes of light's wealthy benefactor.

But God, this poor man. He's suffered several immense losses in a very short period, been forced to see the woman he loved as a monster, and then had to put her down so she could rest in peace. Beyond the emotional burdens of such losses, he has to deal with the legal matters and the settling of affairs for three different people, probably doing whatever one needs to do to take his father's place in the House of Lords (something I know absolutely nothing about but I assume there's things to do there), AND the earth shattering revelation the supernatural is real, monsters do exist, and the one who killed Lucy is still out there.

And all of that while having to abide by the Victorian standards of manhood. Stalwart, strong, showing no emotions that could make him seem weak.

I think the scene in September 30th, where Mina comforts him and finally he has the chance to let go of all of these burdens he's felt he must carry alone, all of the grief and sorrow he's been forced to carry, he can for at least a moment put aside the mask of manliness society insist he wear and just let himself be a man who has lost his father and his fiancee within days of each other, who is dealing with situations beyond belief.

Obviously we've seen him cry and grieve before but it always felt like he was stifling it to a degree because, well. He only has his male friends to lean on now and the stupid proprieties of society mean he can only lean so much. But now he's had a chance to finally let go, made a connection with Lucy's dearest friend and a new sister of choice. He has his friends, he's finally been allowed to mourn in the way he's truly feeling...and now he's ready to help in whatever way possible to avenge Lucy.

Arthur comes off to me as a very strong character, a man driven by great love, who's emotions, as constrained as they may be, are one of his greatest strengths (and, of course, every good monster hunting group needs a financial benefactor). He's not a flat character at all, he's not forgettable character. Lucy loved him for a reason and, I think, in the moment his grief finally breaks, we get a glimpse at that.

I think that one of the good things of Dracula Daily has been making people realize how good of a character Jonathan Harker is, how pop culture has done damage to the true character of Lucy and Mina…I think we should add that its done a good job of making one care for a character as Arthur, who at first glance seems flat and boring.

Or at least it's made me appreciate him more. And I still want to know how he and Jack and Quincy became friends and what sort of shenanigans they got up to before the events of the book.