#but i think at this point it's impossible to make it much worse

[swampgallows]

.

complaining here because i dont want to burden my friends but still want to collect validation in the form of little pixel hearts

my moms mental state has gotten so much worse and as a result her hoarding is becoming even worse and even more impossible to tolerate. i have tried to have more sympathy about it and to help her with it, sitting with her while she sorts "a box a day" or even just "one thing a day". ive gently recommended she get a new therapist but all she did was change her horse on the SSRI carousel and start smoking weed. i've linked her articles and books and videos, and when she doesnt look at any of them i try to relay to her in conversation what i learned from them when she bemoans "why am i like this?". none of it matters. she just complains that it's "too overwhelming" and she "can't help it" even though she refuses any help at all.

i know it is a mental disorder. i know it is overwhelming. i know it causes her physical pain to get rid of things and at the same time cripples her with guilt to keep it all. but as of right now all we're trying to get her to do is just rearrange the things so that they aren't turning our house into a fucking obstacle course, and she pushes back on that too. like she doesn't want to even organize the piles AS THEY ARE and condense them because she'd rather be "actually throwing things away and putting things away like a human being!"—the thing that she very specifically CANNOT do.

and if we consolidate it on our own? hooooly christ. she goes on a fucking rampage, slamming doors, screaming/sobbing, throwing shit (her shit. it's all her shit). because it's HER stuff and WE touched it and she feels guilty about all her stuff. she STILL talks about when my sister tidied the spice cabinet, convinced that "she threw everything away!" and that was years ago. (my sister is a different kind of insane and probably DID throw a bunch of shit away, but either way all it did was give my mom ammunition for the rest of her life to never do anything.)

this is long enough already so all i can say is that im disappointed in myself for losing more of my tolerance and sympathy. like at this point the only reason i care is because i have to fucking live here since i havent been able to stay employed or move out yet and my mental health is also incredibly bad. but also my mom's becoming much more intolerant and hateful as a human being, which makes me less inclined to keep trying. like she deliberately brings up incendiary topics (usually politics), whips herself up into a cyclone of hatred (every '-ism' you can think of) while preemptively apologizing for things that she thinks that we think about the politics that she "doesn't like talking about" despite blatantly shifting the conversation to bring them up, then devolves into histrionic crying or yelling at us for something she has imagined. this is almost every day. i know she's my mom so im trying but christ alive

[papermint-airplane]

Today was such a day. Such. a. day. I got my period with the worst cramps of my life, had like 3 hours of sleep last night, spent the whole day short staffed at work, and then had to go to therapy immediately after. I was so tired when I got home, I just took a nap on the floor with a couch cushion for a pillow because I couldn't even stay awake long enough to walk to my bedroom. I slept like that for 2 hours. 😭😭

I might have enough gas in the tank to do a micro update to my story but not the big twisty twists I have planned. Hopefully I will get to that in the next couple of days. I'm so excited! I had some absolutely goofy ideas that I can't wait to implement. I'm not the best writer but I'm enjoying myself anyway hehehe. 😈

[toytulini]

reeeeeeally wish. it didnt feel. like the needs of my body vs the needs of my brain were actively in fucking conflict with each other in a way that makes it impossible to function or exist

[piplupod]

I've been wondering why MH workers have been treating me like I'm The Lying Liar when I talk about emotions and other people's reactions to things and I found out today (by glancing at a medical form that my counselor filled out for my intake at a program) that my psychiatrist actually did diagnose me with BPD and the psychologist who disagreed with that diagnosis and instead PROPERLY diagnosed me with ASD didn't get BPD taken off my file..... I'M SO PEEVED. and I doubt I'll be able to get BPD removed from my file because MH workers act like everyone diagnosed with a cluster B disorder is an attention-seeking liar. dragging my hands down my face. this is so stupid oh my god. any BPD symptoms that I do have are better explained by OTHER disorders I have 😭

[thefirstknife]

Is the Witness cutscene viewable to people who did not pay for access to the season (or will it be post-year)? Like people who only bought the expansion and not the season pass? I know they shove important story and lore info behind timegated paywalls constantly (reason I hate the season model), but that seems like a really especially vital scene I would hope would be viewable in-game by everyone

Right now, it's only a part of the season. Obviously it's available for free online on their official and non-official channels, but in-game it's only for those that have Season of the Deep, for now, since it's a part of this season.

As for the future, honestly no clue. I will assume yes because of one simple fact: you will no longer be able to buy the past seasons when Lightfall year ends. That would mean that only people who bought the season during this year would continue to have access to the cutscene going forward, but no new players would have the same access, which kinda defeats the purpose of having it accessible in the game later.

So I can assume that they might be working on some universally accessible cutscene viewer that will allow all players to see cutscenes from content no longer in the game, regardless of whether they've previously purchased it or not. That's the best scenario because it would mean we'd get all other cutscenes in the game too. The middle scenario is that only the Witness cutscene will be viewable somewhere as part of another mission or some quest, also without having to have purchased Season of the Deep (since you won't be able to once TFS starts: technically you'll be able to purchase Lightfall so maybe it will require you to at least have purchased that, but the season itself will no longer exist).

We'll have to wait for more info on that. As of now, I would assume that once this year is done and the season is no longer purchasable, the cutscene will be a part of content that is available to everyone. While it's still purchasable, it's only in-game for those that bought it, but can be viewed with no problem on their official channel (and elsewhere).

[autumnrory]

one thing about me is even if i hated the book i just read i will still be defending the main character while all the goodreads reviewers go on about how whiny and selfish she is

[medicinemane]

Anyway, hope you're all doing well

I just... I haven't slept and also I've got like... 2-4 days of tumblr to catch up on... mostly to make sure I don't lose anything I want to keep requeuing

In many ways I'm probably doing better than I have been in a long time... maybe ever, but... I've got zero focus, I can barely watch youtube videos, I certainly can't play games... I can't get myself to clean... I don't know man

It's like... it's like my mind's empty except for some thick clear goopy sludge... it's like being over at a strange house sat alone in a big room waiting for people to come back... not wanting to touch anything so you just sit there staring and feeling out of sorts, except it's just constant in my own house in my own room... just saw Bart flop down in front of my door and realized I'm so out of it I forgot I had cats

It's like I'm living every moment in the moment, but not in a peaceful way, in a I'm untethered from reality and trying to figure out plans or how to deal with getting everything sorted out is just kinda painful kinda way

Then my mood... well... I kinda have no mood. I'm fucking numb if I'm honest. I have flavor opinions like "I'm worthless and should kill myself", but I actually don't even feel depressed right now, I feel nothing

I don't see much point to my future even if everything goes great, and I would like to kill myself, but I have zero interest in even considering it right now even though I have everything I need around if I just stand up and take a single step

So... much as it probably sounds like I'm just pure in the trash right now, I'm actually in many ways probably doing better than I ever have before... I'm just also real messed up right now at the same time

I don't feel hopeful, I never feel hopeful, but I do feel like I can maybe guide shit into a good position, it's just once again I figure that even if I do everything I want to with being able to help other people out and stuff, I'll still just kinda end up alone in a crowd

You know... funny thing is I'm thinking "the fuck is even the point I wanted to make?", and I realize... my point was actually that I'm doing pretty good and not to worry... not sure how well I'm selling it, but it's true

I hesitate to assign anything to myself, my stance on me and anything I can't conclusively say tends to be no comment... but if I were looking at someone else describing what I'm feeling in my position, I might be inclined to say burnout... months of having to be on and clean and manage everything and... all that... well it's one explanation, who knows if it's correct

Anyway though, I'm good, don't worry, know I do appreciate you all and wish I had more brain power to say more to more people... it's just maybe kinda sad that this is my version of doing good... the fuck is wrong with me if I wake up everyday feeling like I've been beaten with clubs... and for me this is kinda peak... what's that say about my baseline?

Doesn't matter, only thing to do is keep moving forward

Guess insomnia paired with not really being able to think, like words just kinda pop out with no planning... guess it makes me ramble real bad, this was supposed to be like one or two paragraphs being positive

It's a Beautiful World

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Pixar did not have to go as hard as they did with the Kronos Unveiled scene in The Incredibles (2004), yet they did anyway and gave us one of the best scenes in modern cinema. Literally cannot stop thinking about how good this scene is, from the animation to the build up to the soundtrack.

I don’t think I truly understood how dark this scene - and this film - was a child: Syndrome is systematically and strategically luring in superheroes and killing them off in order to test and improve his Omnidroid design… these people were not only supers but they also had family and loved ones too, just like Bob, and one day they would have just disappeared because chances are they weren’t telling people where they were going because it was "top secret" and against the law. They thought they were doing something good, like helping the people in the island, while also getting to relive their glory days, perhaps even paving the way for superheroes to make a proper comeback… only for Syndrome to kill them in cold blood.

Most of these people can actually be seen at Bob and Helen’s wedding in the beginning of the film - they weren’t just random supers, they were their friends, people they worked alongside and cared about. It’s even worse when you realise that Bob probably blames himself because, after all, Buddy/Syndrome was his biggest fan and he dismissed him by not letting him help.

The relief on Bob’s face when he realises Syndrome doesn’t know where Helen is - meaning he also doesn’t know where their children are because he didn’t realise they were married at this point - is so realistic and gut wrenching to see. The relief contrasting with the anguish of knowing how much danger they and their entire family could have been in the entire time without even knowing...it's so well-done, you can literally feel it.

It’s also worth noting that originally the next target wasn’t Mr Incredible but Frozone - that was who Mirage was trailing, hence why his location is “known”. Imagine if she/Syndrome hadn’t realised that Mr Incredible was with him and they’d lured Frozone in instead as planned; he would have gone to the island to fight the Omnidroid 8 in a volcano setting. We saw how being in the burning building dehydrated Frozone and made it impossible to use his ice powers - presumably it would have been the same in the middle of a lava filled volcano, and he’d have been slaughtered just like the other superheroes before him.

This scene shows an entire generation of superheroes - Bob, Helen and Lucius’ generation - wiped out all because Syndrome felt slighted by his hero as a child, because he internalised that slight and let it drive him to revenge. And, if we take into account the deleted alternate opening scene, it’s mentioned that superheroes "aren't supposed to breed” - meaning there’s a likelihood that Violet, Dash and Jack-Jack are among the very few supers of the next generation. I know that it's deleted and so not really canon, but it's definitely a concept to consider, I think.

Then there's the fact Syndrome named the project "Kronos" - Kronos was a God who overthrew his own father in order to take over his rule, and then he ate his own children to prevent them doing the same thing to him. It feels like it reflects Syndrome once looking up to Mr Incredible and even saying "I could be your ward!", meaning Mr Incredible adopting or fostering him - the project name is a metaphor for Syndrome destroying the Supers, especially Mr Incredible, who he viewed as a father figure. The Omnidroids he built killed two birds with one stone: not only was he able to acquire the data to upgrade the robot to its final design, but it also eliminated the real super heroes and so left him as the last remaining "superhero", even though his powers are man-made, not something he was born with.

Not only did he want to become the only remaining superhero by killing the real ones in revenge, he also planned to sell his inventions at some point so everyone can be super - because "when everyone is super, nobody is". It's like a final blow to the memory of the superheroes he had killed.

I've talked too much about this scene but God... I love it so much more as an adult because it's just so chilling to think about. I'm sure other people can put it much more articulately than I just tried to, but I just really wanted to appreciate this scene.

[jewishcissiekj]

Of course you don't believe in Judaism it comes free with slightly questioning it dipshit

[loriache]

Kabru, impossible mutual understanding & unknowable objects

Despite his concerted and constant efforts to understand other people, it’s established in a few extras that Kabru believes that true mutual understanding between certain different races is impossible. Specifically, between long-lived and short-lived races, and between humans and demi-humans. Partially, we can trace this conviction back to specific hang-ups caused by his life; the trauma of the Utaya disaster, prejudices he carries from his childhood, and his experience of racism among the elves. In this “little” essay, I’m gonna discuss how I think those experiences formed this belief, how it comes out in his actions, and how some of his actions seem to contradict it. The question of whether it’s possible to reach mutual understanding with other living beings despite our differences is one of the core themes of the manga, and I’ll also touch on how this aspect of Kabru’s character links to that.

Seeking understanding

Kabru is a character who devotes a huge amount of time and effort to understanding people, and he is very good at it. In his internal monologue, we can tell how advanced and complex his skills of analysis are. He is able to read a huge amount of information just from looking at people's faces and body language.

People are, to him, what monsters are to Laios. This is something that's been expanded on at length in other, excellent meta. It's the fact that they're foils; it's the fact that Kabru is also very easy to read as autistic, with a special interest which is the opposite and parallel of Laios'. It's something that came out of trauma and alienation, as Laios' special interest in monsters also began as a coping mechanism.

The complicated origin of this "love" for monsters and for people comes through, I think, in the fact that one of the places we see both characters use their fixation is in being very, very good at killing the thing that they love. This also ties into the idea that loving something isn't even remotely mutually exclusive with using it to sustain your own survival; using it for your own purposes; hurting it or killing it. Love can be, and often is, violent, possessive and consumptive. This understanding is part of what makes Kui's depiction of interpersonal relationships so compelling to me.

While Laios fixated on monsters and animals to seek a place of escape, in both his imagination and his self-image, from the humans who he couldn't understand and who couldn't understand him, Kabru seems to have fixated on understanding people in order to navigate the complex, socially marginal places that he has been forced into throughout his life. As an illegitimate child raised by a single mother with an appearance that marked him out as different to the point his father's family wanted to kill him, and a tallman child raised among elves who didn't treat him as fully human and wanted him to perform gratefulness for that treatment – treatment that, after he met Rin at age 9, he certainly always understood could be a lot worse – his ability to work out what people wanted from him, whether they were friendly or hostile or had ulterior motives, wasn’t just an interest. It will have been an essential skill.  

Milsiril, I think, was a flawed parent who tried to do her best by Kabru and did a lot of harm to him despite her best intentions. She may have treated him much better than an average elf would have, but like Otta and Marcille's mother, there are other elves with different outlooks on short-lived races. How would they judge her treatment of him? We don’t have any insight on what it could be, but to be honest, the person’s whose opinion of her I’d be most interested in knowing is Rin’s.

But even if she'd been perfect, living as an trans-racial adoptee in a deeply hierarchical nation with a queen who is a 'staunch traditionalist' who wouldn't even acknowledge the existence of a half-elf like Marcille (according to Cithis) is an experience that would deeply impact anyone.

Elves & Impossible mutual understanding

While Kabru was living with Milsiril - in other words, while living in the Northern Central Continent - he came to believe that "there was no way to achieve mutual understanding with the long-lived races."

This is evident in his political project: he wants short-lived races to have ownership over the dungeon's secrets. Despite his dislike of the Lord of the Island, he's a useful bulwark to stop the elves taking over. Despite his doubts about Laios, Laios needs to be the one to defeat the dungeon, because if he doesn't the elves will take over.

Kabru still carries a deep scar from Utaya, one that was exacerbated by the fact that he never got an answer to any of his questions about what happened or why. This, despite the fact that Milsiril knows about the demon and how it works. Do you think Kabru, with his social perceptiveness that borders on the superhuman, wasn't aware that she knew more than she would tell him?

Given that, the fact that he gets to a place where he "doesn't have any particularly negative feelings about [elves/long-lived species]" .... well, to put it bluntly, I believe that he thinks that's the case, but I kind of doubt it. After all, if he did have resentment, of Milsiril (someone who was his primary provider and caretaker since age six, and who despite her flaws, loves him and who I do think he loves) or of elves (who he has had to play nice with for most of his life, in order to survive, and will still have to play nice with in order to achieve his goals, since they hold all the power) what would that do except hurt him and make his life harder? Kabru is Mr. Pragmatic, so I don't think he'd let himself acknowledge any such feelings he did have. Exactly because he can't acknowledge them, they're well placed to get internalised as beliefs about the Fundamental Unchangeable Nature of the World.

However, these stated beliefs seem to contradict his actions. Despite his belief in the impossibility of forming a mutual understanding, he certainly seems to try to understand long-lived people, just as much as he does short-lived people. There's no noticeable difference between his treatment of Daya & Holm versus Mickbell & Rin that isn't clearly down to their relationship with him. His skills of human analysis were honed and developed while living amongst elves, and as soon as he's alone with Mithrun he immediately sets to understanding him - his interests, his motivations, his needs, and his past.

He treats him considerately and without bias, and despite the fact that Mithrun conquering the dungeon for the elves is both a reenactment of a core part of his childhood trauma and a political disaster for his aims, that doesn't seem to colour his perspective on Mithrun negatively at all.

This is something I find extremely laudable about Kabru, and it's another way he parallels Laios. He seems to understand that people, as a rule, (in Laios' case, he understands this about monsters - and eventually, all living beings) will act in their own interests, and if those interests conflict with yours, might harm you. But that's just their nature, and it's not something that should be held against them; you're also doing the same thing, after all. The crux of Laios' arc is precisely that he has to accept the responsibility of hurting someone else in order to achieve what he wants.

Kabru is deeply concerned with his own morals, what he should and shouldn't do, but mostly in the context of responsibility for the consequences - a responsibility he takes onto himself. He isn't scrupulous about what he needs to do in order to create the outcome he wants, but if he fails to create that outcome, then....

He blames himself to the point of thinking he should die. He doesn't blame Laios, or seem at all angry with him, despite concluding he should have killed him to prevent this outcome. That's because in his eyes, ultimately Laios was going to act according to his own nature, and it's Kabru's fault for not understanding that nature well enough. He's extremely confident in his ability to understand and predict others, (including elves and other long-lived people). Then, where does his conviction that mutual understanding is impossible come from?

Partially, it's the "mutual" part. I'm sure Kabru, who isn't able or willing to deny Otta's insinuation that Milsiril saw him more like a pet than a son, has felt that his full interiority, the depth of his feelings and his ability to grow, act, and think as a fully equal being, was something that the elves around him just couldn't grasp. Because that was their excuse for it, he came to understand this as a gulf between short-lived and long-lived beings, an inevitable difference in outlook caused by their different lifespans.

This experience might be part of what leads to his iconic “fake” behaviour. He trusts his ability to understand others, but if they aren’t able to understand him, then there isn’t any benefit to being honest about his feelings and thoughts. If his attempts to reach mutual understanding with his caretakers were never able to be fulfilled, then it isn’t any wonder that he reacts with such surprise and horror at blurting out his desire to be Laios’ friend.

In his experience, making yourself vulnerable in that way only leads to being hurt. Soothing him, hushing him, lying to him, talking to him like a child that isn’t able to use proper judgement – that’s an inadequate and deeply hurtful way to respond to genuine distress, the desire for autonomy, or disagreement. Ultimately, I think that’s why he comes out on the side of being grateful to Milsiril; because she did equip him with the skills and knowledge he’d need to reach his goal, and let him go.

Though he could understand them, they couldn't understand him. To the extent that was true - which I'm sure it was - it wasn't due to anything about lifespan. It was due to the elves’ racism, and the solipsitic mindset & prejudiced attitude that it caused them to approach him with.

Because, if it needs to be said, the idea that there is an unbreachable gap in understanding between the long-lived and short-lived species is not true. Marcille and Laios have a much greater difference in lifespan than any full elf from any short-lived person, and they’re able to understand each other – maybe not perfectly, but better than many other people who are closer in life-span to them.

That doesn’t mean that I think Kabru is wrong about this, however. Because there’s an interpretation of his statement that is reflected in his actions and is true. When he talks about his problem with elves, it’s not just their attitudes: it’s their power, and what they use it to do. They “explain nothing and take everything”. Though it’s presented in the guise of ‘guiding and protecting’, in fact it’s a simple case of a powerful nation using their military power, wealth, access to resources, and historically stolen land – including the island itself – to protect their own interests and advance their own agenda. That’s why they’d be able to show up, seize the dungeon, and forcibly take Kabru’s party and Laios’ party to the West. If Kabru wants to stop that from happening, or change that status quo, persuasion or a bid to be understood would be completely pointless. Between the political blocs formed by long-lived species and the interests of short-lived species, “mutual understanding”, given their current, unequal terms, would be impossible. This is something that we see reflected in Kabru’s actions; before he asks his questions about the dungeon, he grabs Mithrun as leverage. He never really attempts to persuade the canaries to see his point of view, because that would be pointless: they’re agents of the Northern Central Continent’s monarchy, and will act in its interests regardless of any individual relationship with him.  

I don’t think Kabru sees the different dimensions of this belief of his in quite such clear terms, however, as is evidenced by the other group who he thinks it’s impossible to communicate with.

Demi-Humans & Unknowable Objects

The other place that we see his conviction about the impossibility of mutual understanding is in the kobold extra.

I'm including the whole thing, because I think it's an excellent and clever piece of world-building. Aside from what it says about Kabru, which I'll expand on shortly, what this extra does is deconstruct and call into question the usual "fantasy ontological biology" present in these sort of DnD-like settings. Essentially, the kind of worldbuilding where a race (such as kobolds) can be described as war-like, and that's establishing something essential about their biological nature. That's common to the point that if Kui didn't include this, some people would probably come away thinking that's the case about, e.g., the orcs.

But here, despite what Kabru is saying, the information the reader actually gets is:

the conflict between short-lived humans and demi-humans such as kobolds is mostly over access to material resources that they need to survive.

These resources are scarce because powerful nations, such as the elves, have monopolised them.

Kabru, who has grown up in a place at the centre of these conflicts, ascribes essential, negative traits to a cultural group which was in direct conflict with his own. Communication with this other group is impossible; they aren't people, they're more like objects.

oh yes! just like this conflict between groups of tall-men, a conflict which the reader will immediately interpret as more clearly analogous to real-life racism. Our other protagonists also carry prejudices from growing up in a place where a marginalised group was in conflict with the dominant group over scarce resources. It's definitely impossible to communicate with these people, and you can only kill them.

Woah, when you say it like that, it sounds pretty bad!

But also, nobody walks away having had a realisation or unlearned their prejudices - because they don't have the tools they need to do that work. Yet. I do think, to an extent, it could happen - especially with Kabru, since it's suggested in the epilogue that Melini might become a safe-haven for demi-humans.

To focus in on Kabru, the key here is his statement that you should think of demi-humans as "unknowable objects". Even his extraordinary powers of understanding have seemingly hit a limit. Part of this is just inherited prejudice, and doesn't need to have a complicated psychological explanation, any more than the elves who were prejudiced against him need one.

But also... this is probably somewhat linked to the way demi-humans seem to be considered "pseudo-monsters". They're the place that the strict delineation between the human and the monstrous is permeated. Laios, who is not interested in humans, remembers and is excited by Kuro. Chilchuck and Laios argue over whether it's OK to eat a mermaid. Kabru's prepared to (pretend to) roll with the idea that Laios ate the orcs.

But these are people, aren't they? Of course, this is a social construction, as we see from the fact that in the Eastern Archipelago, the label of "human" is reserved for tallmen, but in most of the rest of the world it depends on some obviously arbirary classification based on number of bones; "demi-humans" aren't in any essential way monstrous, except to an extent in their appearance, and physical location - due to their marginal social status, they're pushed out to live in unsafe places such as dungeons.

Therefore, Kabru's view of demi-humans as fundamentally "other", unable to be understood - monstrous - could be read as akin to abjection, the psychoanalytical concept described by Julia Kristeva. In order to create a bounded, secure superego, that thing which permeates and calls into question the border between self and other, human and animal, life and death, is rejected and pushed to the margin.

“Not me. Not that. But not nothing, either. A "something" that I do not recognize as a thing.[...] On the edge of nonexistence and hallucination, of a reality that, if I acknowledge it, annihilates me. There, abject and abjection are my safeguards. The primers of my culture.” (Kristeva et al., 1984, p. 11) “It is thus not lack of cleanliness or health that causes abjection but what disturbs identity, system, order. ” (Kristeva et al., 1984, p. 13) “The pure will be that which conforms to an established taxonomy; the impure, that which unsettles it, establishes intermixture and disorder. [...] the impure will be those that do not confine themselves to one element but point to admixture and confusion.” (Kristeva et al., 1984, p. 107) (discussing food prohibitions in Leviticus)

This is both (due to its affinity with food-loathing and disgust) a very fruitful concept to apply to dunmeshi, and a psychoanalytical theory which I wouldn't exactly cosign as True Facts About Human Psychological Development. You may also know the abject from its utilisation in the classic essay "Horror and the Monstrous-Feminine" by Barbara Creed - that's a lot more approachable than Kristeva if anyone's interested.

Key here, though, is that through the symbol of the "demi-human" is embodied a step between "human" and "monster" - and that's a prospect that puts at risk the whole notion of an absolute separation between those two categories in the first place. To Laios, that's something wonderful, and to Kabru, it's terrifying. We can see this principle further embodied in the relationship both characters have with the notion of becoming monstrous.

To Laios, this is transcendent, and represents a renunciation of everything human - in fact, if it didn't, it wouldn't "count".

To Kabru, it's a deeply-held fear, established by his childhood alienation (due to his illegitimacy, his eyes, and perhaps also his neurodivergency), deepened by monster-related trauma and the sense of responsibility and survivors guilt he feels for what happened at Utaya. His identity as a human who is not monstrous is key to his sense of stability and safety; he doesn't want to touch monsters, he doesn't even want to see them.

To acknowledge a kinship, a possibility of similarity between the things he loves (humans) and the things he hates (monsters) would be more than touching them - it would be putting them inside him. We know, quite explicitly, that this notion is triggering to Kabru. He literally has what seems to be a flashback when he's about to eat the harpy omelette.

So he abjects it, classifying the demi-human as fundamentally unlike him - an unknowable object, or an object that he refuses to know. Because in understanding it, he would interject the things he hates and fears into his self, which is already, always under threat by that hated and feared object.

Of course, again, Kabru isn't very good at enacting this refusal in practice. For one, when he chooses between his desires and ingesting the feared object, eating monsters... he eats monsters. Part of this is treating himself badly, the "ends justify the means" mentality. His goal is to destroy all monsters, so if he needs to become monster-like to do that, he will. But part of it is also the other motivation that he didn't even seem to know about until he said it: he wants to become Laios' friend, and to learn from him how a person can like monsters. He wants, at least in some part of him, to reconcile the feared and hated object into something he can understand.

For another:

Kabru can speak the kobold language. In the first place, while this may have been common in Utaya, it also could have been something he chose to learn, an early expression of his interest in understanding and talking to all sorts of people. It isn't the kind of thing you learn if you believe that communication between yourself and the group that speak it is impossible, is it?

It's possible to harbour prejudices against a group while being kind to an individual, and given Kabru has those prejudices regardless of his reasons, that is what he is doing. But also, his treatment of Kuro doesn't reflect a sincerely held belief that he's an "unknowable object" at all. His approach is exactly the same as it is to any other person: an analysis of goal and motive, and an attempt to help if he's sympathetic and their goals align - going out of his way to give language and local knowledge lessons in secret. His conviction that Mickbell and Kuro will truly become friends when they can properly communicate is completely contradictory to any sense of demi-humans as fundamentally different, or impossible to reach mutual understanding with. To me, it seems like this self-protective shield against the corruptive force demi-humans as an idea present to his identity, this abjection, when Kabru is face-to-face with one, just simply can't hold up against his finely honed skill of intellectual empathy. Perhaps because he's autistic, it seems his "empathy" is less an emotional mirror response, and more a set of cognitive skills for analysis of others. That instinctual, emotional empathy might not trigger when presented with a member of an out-group, but if it’s possible for Kabru to turn his cognitive empathy off, we don’t see him do it.

This isn't to say that this prejudice doesn't affect his behaviour. For one, it could negatively impact his judgement of politics and policy, where individual people don't enter into it. For another, I'm not convinced he'd be willing to overlook Mickbell's exploitative relationship with Kuro if Kuro wasn't a kobold. As it is, since both of them are satisfied, he doesn't feel like he needs to intervene, regardless of the fact Mickbell isn't paying Kuro. But if Daya and Holm were in a relationship, and Holm took both Daya's and his own share from their ventures, but only compensated her in living expenses and kept the rest, do you think he'd tolerate it, for example? Even if she said it was OK?

Conclusion

The kelpie chapter establishes that "people can never know what monsters are really thinking." That isn't just true of monsters, though.

True mutual understanding is impossible - between anyone. We can never truly understand another person's heart. This is touched on in, for example, the existence of shapeshifters and dopplegangers. Even a monster that seemed like a perfect copy of a person wouldn’t be that person, and wouldn’t be a satisfactory replacement.

We’re intended, I think, to understand the winged lion's repeated suggestions to just replace people who have been lost with copies as something uncanny, which demonstrates the way that the winged lion never manages to attain a complete understanding of humans. A version of a person who was created to fulfil your memories of them, to be the person who you wanted them to be, would be a terrible, miserable thing.

Disagreeing, coming into conflict, and misunderstanding each other, are essential parts of what it means to be living beings, as fundamental as the need to eat.

The only thing to do is not to take more than you need to eat to survive, and not impose your own desires onto others. To do your best to sincerely communicate your desires, even if they're embarrassing or vulnerable or strange, like Kabru eventually does with Laios; like Laios does, bit by bit, with the people around him; like Marcille does, Chilchuck does, Senshi does... to hope they will accept you, and do your best to understand them in return.

We can re-examine, in that context, Kabru's line about the elves' tendency to "explain nothing and take everything".

They have the power to impose their preferred "menu" onto less powerful groups. And in that context, mutual understanding being impossible just means that they won't give up their power because they're asked nicely. Kabru's goal is to seize the truth that they won't give to him, and to create a situation where they can't take everything. Because he's accurately surmised that nothing about the treatment of short-lived races will change so long as the power imbalance remains. Despite the way he mistakenly ascribes part of that to "long-lived vs short-lived" or "human vs demi-human", the actual gulfs in understanding he identifies are structural, are about power and about access to material resources and safety.

I think he could come to recognise this. Yaad is teaching him political science after all, and while a prince's lessons on political science won't exactly get at much that's radical or invested in the interests and perspectives of the marginalised (Capital is a critique of for a reason after all...) I believe in Kabru's ability to learn critically and get more from a lesson than it was intended to teach.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Satoru Gojo

Summary: Satoru struggles with his two babies.

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

*I used the two babies from baby steps for this, but you don't have to read to enjoy the fluffy oneshot🥹

“C’mon, Seiji. Vegetables are so good. yummy.” Satoru is trying to bribe his almost-two-year-old into eating the rest of his food, alas, he doesn’t sound too convincing. He tasted the vegetables, they aren’t too good but you cooked them so he isn’t going to bash them. Seiji really doesn’t care about not hurting anybody’s feelings at this stage of his life, so even though his dearest mother made them, he refuses to eat them.

Satoru sighs defeatedly, putting the fork down. He guesses Seiji doesn’t have to eat vegetables every day to grow strong. He picks Seiji up from the high chair, putting him down on the ground to allow him to walk around and do whatever he likes to do. Lately Seiji loves to play with any piece of trash he finds, making Satoru realize that he’s wasted thousands of dollars on toys.

“Don’t be too loud! Don’t wake your sister up.” Satoru yells, knowing that Seiji really doesn’t care about that. The baby only has one thought in his mind and that’s to play with whatever he gets his hands on. 

Satoru really thought that handling two babies under two would be a breeze, he’s the strongest, he can accomplish just about anything… But his two kids tire him out. Saori cries so much that he anticipates in horror the moment that she wakes up. Seiji never stops moving, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stand still for a moment. He loves his babies more than anything, but he’s rightfully tired.

Satoru is being the best husband that he can be by taking care of his babies while you study and finish up your degree. But two tiny humans are slowly ending his life. Satoru follows Seiji around, deciding to just let him wander around the house because Seiji hates to be put in his playpen lately.

“Dada.” Seiji points up when he gets to the stairs, looking back at his father. Satoru shakes his head, picking up Seiji and taking him back to the living room so he can find something there that he can engross himself with. Seiji makes sure to let out a dramatic cry because he hates being carried and contradicted. He doesn’t want to go to the living room, he wants to go upstairs.

“Crying isn’t going to do anything, baby. You’re staying down here.” Satoru says as he carries Seiji away. Seiji makes sure to yell,

“Down! Down!” Which actually works on Satoru today because he doesn’t want Seiji to wake up the sleeping baby. When his tiny feet hit the ground, Seiji begins to run around which isn’t really an issue for Satoru since he only has to take two steps to catch up to Seiji.

It’s boring, really, but he prefers walking after his toddler better than trying to entertain both babies while they’re awake. Seiji doesn’t care for his parents' attention until Saori is awake; when she’s awake he wants to become the center of attention.

Satoru really thinks he’s safe, until he hears her cries from upstairs, and the loudest sigh leaves his lips. He picks Seiji up, making him kick his feet and cry, demanding that he’s put down. Luckily for him, his father listens to his wishes and puts him down. Unluckily for him, he’s put down in the playpen that lately feels like a prison. 

“No! Out!” Seiji demands, but Satoru doesn’t listen. He leaves Seiji there while he goes upstairs to pick up Saori from her crib.

When he gets there, he notices his baby girl is sitting up, waiting for him to finally pick her up. He coos, approaching the crib and picking her up, “Hi my sunshine. Did you sleep well?”

She doesn’t stop crying so easily though. He changes her diaper, and the crying gets worse. He tickles her tummy, laughing to himself, “Aren’t you a hungry girl? You ate one hour ago too.”

He guesses he can’t blame her, a bottle of milk wouldn’t be enough to hold him over either… But he guesses he’s four times her size and two decades older than her. He exits the room, getting more irritated by the second with the crying baby that’s in his arms. 

He begins to walk down the stairs, and that’s when he sees a little rascal holding to the railing and trying to walk upstairs. His eyes widen, his first thought being: how the hell did Seiji escape his playpen? Seiji finally looks up, seeing his father at the top of the stairs. He lets go of the railing, his hands going over his tiny mouth, his signature move for when he gets caught.

Satoru watches it happen in slow motion. Seiji’s tiny feet on the edge of the stair, he tips over and falls back from the stairs until he’s back on the first floor again. At least Seiji was only on the third stair up so it wasn’t a long fall– However, he cries his heart out as if he was at the very top.

“Seiji, how the hell did you even get out of the playpen?” Satoru is reasonably angry because he has two crying kids to soothe on his own. He doesn’t want to bother you while you study so it’s his problem, and only his. He doesn’t know which problem to tend to first. 

Satoru just knows one thing, and he hates thinking about it, but he wouldn’t be dealing with any of this if he had used a condom.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 17 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was certain Maverick didn't intend to stress him out when he said you and he were the spitting image of Goose and Carole. But suddenly, for better or for worse, it was all he could think about. There is so much to look forward to with you in his life, but now he has to break the worst kind of news to you.

Warnings: Fluff, oral sex, smut, angst, adult banter, Bradley in love, 18+

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley couldn't seem to stop grinning. Playing the part of tour guide for your class was a pleasure. The kids made fun of Jake, which was honestly lovely, and everyone got to experience different aspects of aviation, not just flying. You even made Cyclone smile, so you'd done the impossible there. Bradley had a grin on his face for the rest of the afternoon, and Nat kept ribbing him about it.

"Are the two of you going to get married and have eighteen kids?" she asked, feigning innocence like nobody else could.

"I know you're joking," he replied as he cleaned up and organized all of the noise canceling headphones. "You know how I know? Because you know how much money I make. I could never afford eighteen kids. It's gotta be like fifteen, tops."

"You never ever even joked about having a child before!" she said, tone accusatory.

Talking about you and thinking about you made him feel calm where no relationship he'd had in the past ever really did. "Come on, Nat. You know I'm serious about this one." 

She laughed in response. "Being in love for once instead of just settling for someone to keep you company looks good on you. It's about time you stopped fucking up." He planted his hand on top of her head, scrunched his fingers, and messed up her hair. "Stop it!" she screeched as he ran away across the tarmac as fast as he could and into the hangar where he found Marty.

Bradley peeked around to make sure she hadn't followed him as he made a beeline toward the mechanic. "Hey, I can't thank you enough for today," he told Marty, shaking his calloused hand.

"It was fun," he replied. "Some of those kids are future aviators, I'm telling you."

"Violet," they both said at the same time and started laughing.

"And Oliver is a bit of a daredevil," Bradley added as he helped Marty pack up his work station. "They've been learning about aviation for months, and I know today meant a lot to them."

Marty looked a little pensive before he nodded at Bradley. "You know what," he said in response as he locked his toolbox, "go ahead and tell your girlfriend that I'll be there for her career day as long as I'm not deployed."

Bradley cocked his head. "Career day. Right. I'll let her know." 

He had no idea what Marty was talking about, but it was just about time for him to head out for the day. By the time he got home from work, you'd probably be on your way back down from Mira Mesa. His thoughts were circling around Maverick's words from earlier. If he was reminded of Goose and Carole when he looked at Bradley with you, then no wonder this felt like the real deal. It must be just that.

But he was in his head now. He was desperate to keep you, because he knew all too well what loneliness felt like, but he couldn't stand the thought of you worrying about him. And the idea of anything happening to him while he was away from you was too much to handle. He rubbed his eyes as he walked to his Bronco. Being compared to his parents felt like a blessing and a curse.

--------------------------

The evenings were getting chilly this time of year, but you changed into the dress you wore on your first date with Bradley as soon as you got home. Then you quickly packed an overnight bag. Driving to work from his house tomorrow would be a true test. Nothing was going to be a complete deal breaker for you at this point, but you hoped it didn't leave you in tears of frustration. Or have Bradley trying to scramble to find a way to try to make you happy when you already were.

Your plan for the evening was to pick up some Thai food from the place he loved on your way to his house. When you texted Bradley to let him know you were leaving your place soon and that you hoped he was hungry, he wrote back one sentence.

All I want is you.

Every time you thought it would be impossible for him to continue to set off the butterflies in your tummy, he did it again. Your face felt warm, and you ran your palm along your cheek as you thought about every little detail of the field trip while you drove. He didn't just love you, he appreciated your job and your students. Your ex didn't even let you talk about them. Bradley let them rank the cafeteria foods at the Naval base. He got Marty to give a demonstration. He got permission for them to sit in his jet and assist with air traffic control!

You moaned as you wove through traffic to get there. All I want is you. Well fuck, all you wanted was him. Your feelings outweighed the amount of time you'd known him, but you couldn't seem to make yourself pump the brakes now. When you stopped to pick up dinner, you thought back to your first date with Bradley. It wasn't very long ago, but it felt like so much had happened since then. It felt like even more had happened since he responded to your first letter. In such a short amount of time, you had fallen in love.

Your skin was tingling with anticipation as you parked in front of his house. Hadn't you been with him just a few hours ago? Why did you feel the need to run for the front door with the Thai food? Why did your heart skip a beat when Bradley opened the door in his sweatshirt and gray sweatpants and met you on the front porch before you even had a chance to knock?

"Gorgeous," he breathed against your cheek, holding you close as you tried not to squish the bag containing dinner. Then he pulled his shirt off, leaving him in a tee, and tugged it over your head. His mustache tickled your skin as he leaned in and whispered, "You look too good in my sweatshirt. You look like you're mine."

Your belly swooped as you promised, "I absolutely am."

"Fuck."

You laughed as you handed the bag to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Give me a minute to kiss you the way I wanted to earlier, and then we're having a picnic dinner."

Bradley started to respond with one eyebrow raised, but you didn't let him get a word out as your lips met his. He deepened the kiss immediately, and you sighed; this was how you always wanted him. You appreciated that he held back earlier, but right now, you wanted him all to yourself.

"Thank you for today," you murmured between kisses as his hand slid lower along your back. "You're the hero of Mira Mesa Elementary, and I wanted to treat you to dinner on behalf of my class."

His cheeks were a little rosy as he pulled away a bit more. "You don't have to thank me for anything. You know that. I'm happy to do anything you want."

"Stop," you whispered, burying your face against his neck. "A girl can only handle so much. Let's go eat dinner down on the beach, and maybe there will be an additional little something special for you."

You were tugging on his arm, fingers gripping his thick bicep, but he didn't budge an inch. "I'm in sweats and a tee shirt. Should I change?"

"Why?" you asked, still tugging. "You look hot."

His blush deepened. "But you're wearing your dress and my sweatshirt. And I was kind of interested in snuggling on the couch."

"Let's go," you repeated, and he took a few steps toward your car with the bag of food in his hand. "We can come back and snuggle on the couch later."

While he agreed, he didn't seem to want to let you go. His hand was on yours while you drove the few blocks to the beach, and he wrapped his arm around you as you pulled an oversized beach towel out of your trunk along with a blanket. 

"Baby, it'll get chilly as soon as the sun sets."

"I'll keep you warm," you promised, running your fingers along his bare arm before taking his hand. He was quiet as the two of you walked down from the parking lot to the sand, and when you looked up at him as the warm, orange light illuminated his face as the sun sank low in the sky, he seemed contemplative. "What's wrong?" you asked, heart skipping a beat as you stopped in front of him so he was looking at you.

Bradley's gaze was soft as he met your eyes. "Nothing's wrong. I'm with you." 

But even as the two of you ate dinner together, he pulled you snug next to his side like he was afraid you were going to go somewhere. You took a bite of the Pad Thai and then said, "I wish I thought to bring some Prosecco," but you only got a little grunt in response. "Bradley," you snapped, reaching for his chin and turning his head gently so he was facing you. "You weren't like this earlier during the field trip. You're acting strange. Do you want me to go home?"

"No," he replied with wide eyes, wrapping one big hand around your thigh and kissing your forehead. "I don't want you to go anywhere without me." With a sigh, he added, "I'm sorry. I just... got in my own head about us."

"Us?" you asked immediately, scrambling to try to figure out what you could have possibly done wrong. The whole day was perfect, and now you felt yourself trying to pull away from his grasp.

"No," he insisted once more as the air grew cooler. The sky was more dark blue than orange now, and Bradley was silent for a beat before he said, "Maverick... Captain Mitchell... you met him earlier..." When you nodded, he kissed your forehead and said, "He was my dad's friend. They flew together. Maverick knew him well."

Your boyfriend's parents had been gone for a long time. "Oh," you gasped. If you'd known that earlier, you'd have taken more time to get to know Captain Mitchell.

Before you could dwell on it too much, Bradley whispered, "I think about you all the time, Gorgeous. I think about fucking you on my couch and feeding you breakfast. I think about taking you back to Salvatore's for every special occasion. I think about your letters and your pretty face and diamond rings. And the future."

His words were warm and intentional, and you shivered even as he pulled you closer. "Bradley," you said so softly, you could barely hear yourself. "I think about all of that, too."

Some of the tension seemed to melt away from his body as you ran your fingers through his hair. His lips skimmed along yours as he said, "Maverick told me I reminded him of my dad today. And that you reminded him of my mom. This is all because he can tell how head over heels I am for you. Just like my parents were for each other."

Everything he said was too dreamy. When you tried to take a deep breath, it hitched in your throat. "I don't understand what the problem is, Bradley. I feel the same way about you."

His gaze was fixed on the water as he held you and said, "My dad left my mom and I alone. The last thing I ever want to do is leave you."

A smile found your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Is this why you're being weird and clingy at the same time?"

When he looked at you he laughed. "I guess. I'm sorry."

"Bradley," you whispered, kissing his mustache and reaching for the blanket to cover both of you. "I've spent months falling in love with you in spite of your job. Or maybe because of it. Or maybe just because there was no holding back. I've thought about the risks, and you are worth it. I'm sure your mom felt the same way about your dad."

He pulled you down on top of him, dinner forgotten, and kissed you with one heavy hand still on the back of your thigh. "As long as you've accepted the risks, Gorgeous." His fingers slid up a few inches as he added, "Today was incredibly fun for me, and I'm happy your kids had a good time. I'm already looking forward to visiting your school again if you want me there."

"Oh," you whispered, placing a soft kiss to his scars. "That reminds me. Career day is coming up in a few months. You'll definitely need to be there for that."

Bradley grunted and gave you a little smack on your rear end that made you gasp in delight. "See, you're telling me about this now, but I already heard about career day from Marty."

Your fingers on his bicep tightened as you tried not to moan. "I just got excited earlier," you whispered. "I promise I was going to tell you."

"Hmm... so Marty and the other aviators are more interesting than I am. I understand, Gorgeous."

His voice was teasing, and he seemed a lot more at ease now as that big hand gripped and grabbed at you under the blanket. When you shifted slightly, you could feel him through his gray sweatpants. He was a little eager, but so were you now. His occasional need to hear you reaffirm your feelings for him was something you'd always be happy to indulge.

"Will you let me prove to you that you're the most interesting? My very favorite Naval officer?"

"What do you have in mind?"

--------------------------

The first few stars were glittering to life in the sky as the horizon continued to darken from orange to purple to blue. Bradley lounged back on the oversized beach towel with one arm tucked behind his head and enjoyed the sight. It was beautiful. So was the sound of you softly gagging on his cock.

"God damn," he muttered, fingers stroking the back of your neck as he squeezed his eyes closed and focused on the feel of your mouth slowly gliding along his shaft until he was deep once again. The air was cool on his overheated skin, and the breeze was probably enough to keep anyone else from visiting this secluded stretch of beach while you treated him to your lips and tongue.

When you gagged again, he saw stars prettier than the ones in the sky, and he could feel your saliva drip down to his balls before you lapped at them as well. He half expected to see the front of his sweatpants all damp by the time you were done. He was really looking forward to it. And it wouldn't be much longer now as you sucked on his balls and pumped your fist around him nice and slow.

Your voice was light as air when you released him and playfully asked, "Do you believe you're my favorite?"

Bradley glanced down where he could see the outline of your body and his hard cock hanging out of his pants. "Baby, I would believe anything you told me right now," he muttered, delighting in your laughter.

"You're my favorite," you said before kissing his tip and sinking those pretty lips around him once again. Your grip was firm as you sucked, and it wasn't long before Bradley was grunting and trying not to grab you too tight with his fingers. 

You were giving him head on the beach, and it was so damn hot, but you were still his sweet girlfriend. He just wanted to make you happy, and when he came, you moaned in delight until he couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed. Then your lips were on his, and he could taste both of you there. "You're my favorite," you repeated, reaching down to carefully pull his sweatpants up while he head spun.

He groaned and wrapped his arm around your waist. "If this was your ploy to get me to agree to career day, it definitely worked. But you know I would have said yes no matter what."

Your lips were on his ear as you laughed. "Can we go home and get warmed up in the shower?"

Home. You belonged there with him. He knew it. You knew it too, even if only subconsciously. "Yeah, let's go home."

On Friday, he woke up earlier than usual to make sure you were awake in time to get to work. He packed you a lunch, grimaced when he checked the traffic on his phone and said, "I'll pay for your gas."

"I don't need you to pay for my gas, Bradley!" you insisted.

One look at your pretty face had him shaking his head. "Traffic is a nightmare. What's it going to take to get you to come back here again tonight?" he asked, handing you a mug of coffee. "Because I honestly don't mind paying a little extra in gas money to make up for the fact that I bought a house in Coronado."

You bit your lip and then asked, "How do you not understand that being with you is going to be worth the drive?"

"Save your verdict for after you've actually driven through rush hour."

He was delighted when you returned right after work for the weekend. And Saturday morning, you slept in while Bradley went for a run with Nat. He kissed you goodbye and watched you roll over onto his pillow with a soft smile on your lips. Six miles in and he was getting antsy to get back to make you breakfast.

"Are you two coming to the bar tonight?" Nat asked, huffing as she tried to speak and run at the same time.

He grunted in response. You hadn't been to the Hard Deck yet, and he wasn't sure he felt like sharing you with everyone else this evening. "Maybe."

Nat rolled her eyes. "Just bring her. You've been MIA for weeks and weeks since you got back. You can stare longingly at her while other people are around for a few hours."

"I'll ask how she feels about it."

But he should have known you'd want to go as soon as he mentioned it to you in the shower after breakfast. "I didn't bring anything cute to wear," you complained with a little pout.

"Baby, you could wear one of my ratty old shirts with your jeans, and you'd be the cutest thing in the place."

A smile curved along your lips, and that's exactly what you ended up wearing. Your snug jeans only looked sexier on you when paired with one of his soft tee shirts from his college days, which you tied in a little knot at the hem. He could see a peek of your skin here and there as you finished getting ready that evening, and he couldn't keep his hands off you. When the two of you arrived at the Hard Deck, he knew he was going to have to keep you close by.

"What do you want to drink?" he asked, tucking his fingers around your waist as Jake Seresin himself eyed you up. "The only thing I can promise is that the wine here sucks compared to Salvatore's."

But you were oblivious as you looked around the interior of the bar as you caught a few more gazes. He didn't love these horny guys all checking you out like the piece of fresh meat you really were. "How about a beer then?" you asked, scanning everything that Penny had on tap and pointing to your favorite.

"Solid choice," he replied, ordering two from Jimmy. And then all too soon, you were the one pulling him toward the pool table and Natasha.

"Well, well, well," Jake drawled, setting down his empty bottle and tossing a dart repeatedly up into the air with his gaze glued on you. "What do we have here, Bradshaw?"

"This is my girlfriend," he replied immediately. "Don't get any ideas."

You cleared your throat, stuck out your hand, and told Jake your name. He reached for you with a smile and didn't let go. "You must be the teacher from the field trip the other day. I'm Jake. But if you'd prefer to use my call sign, it's Hungman. I mean Hangman. Looks like Baby on Board was right."

"Right about what?" Bradley asked, eyes darting to where Bob was blushing profusely with a pool cue in his hand.

Jake chuckled. "Nothing I can say in front of mixed company."

"Oh!" you said, pulling your hand free and pointing at Jake while you took a sip of your beer. Bradley felt the need to protect you, but you didn't really need him to at all as you smirked and said, "Hangman. Right. You're the guy with the dumb call sign. My students were still talking about it yesterday."

Bradley started laughing at the sour look on Jake's face. After that, you had some very pleasant conversations with Javy, Mickey and Reuben, even though he could see their eyes dip down to your chest on occasion. It wasn't really their fault that you were beautiful, so he let it slide while he played pool with Nat. Eventually you joined in with him, and you insisted on buying the next two beers plus another drink for his best friend.

"I'll be right back," you told him, playfully backing away toward the bar with a smile, and Bradley watched you the entire time you were gone.

"You are a mess," Nat informed him as if he didn't already know that.

He shook his head. "I just know the day is going to come when I'm not around to physically be with her. And you'll be the one inviting her out to the bar while I'm eating soggy cabbage rolls on an aircraft carrier. So I need to set the precedent now. She's with me, and all of these assholes we work with can keep their hands to themselves where she is concerned."

"You were never this up tight when you brought Vanessa here."

His ex's name always sounded startling now when it rattled around in his head. "She was mean," he said easily. "Nobody wanted to talk to her even though she was pretty." But Bradley honestly never did feel this way about her or anyone else before you. Watching you pay Jimmy with a smile on your face before turning and meeting his eyes was enough to send him walking halfway to meet you.

Bradley took one of the drinks from your hands and leaned down to give you a nice, long kiss with tongue. Was he marking his territory? Sure. Was he also letting you know he was ready to get you alone again whenever you wanted to leave? Absolutely. Was he also just such a mess he couldn't help but touch you? A hundred percent.

It wasn't long before you suggested calling it a night.

----------------------------

Bradley was deep inside you, one big hand pinning your wrists above your head on his pillow. His fingers were trailing down your skin as he fucked you a little harder, and you let him talk and ramble to his heart's content while he brought you closer to where you wanted to be.

"You're perfect," he crooned, hazy gaze focused on your face. "Tell me, Baby, please. I need to know." He kissed along your neck, tongue darting out to taste the sheen of sweat. "Please."

"What?" you gasped, barely able to talk at all as his fingers settled on your clit.

You thought maybe he gave up trying to communicate right now, but then he licked his lips and said, "Give me a date. Please. Give me a date when you're going to move in." But he was stroking you just right, and your only response was a gasp before you were chanting his name.

His lips settled on yours as you came for him, clenching around his cock until he spilled himself inside you. His kisses were rough before turning sweet, and soon he was softly teasing your lips as he muttered, "You gonna tell me?"

It took you a second to push through the fog as your orgasm tapered off, and you smiled. "I thought you weren't in a hurry. Just in love." His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink as he ducked his head, but you'd already been giving it a lot of thought. When he started to shift, you whispered, "January twentieth."

He froze again and met your eyes. "Yeah? Seriously?"

"Seriously."

His hands were cupping your face while he stayed buried inside you. "Gorgeous, you just made my whole fucking day."

Within the hour, he had the date saved in his phone calendar, and you were on his lap on the couch eating popcorn. "We've got time, but I'll help you pack beforehand and move everything. Javy has a truck, so I'll make sure we can use that. You could always start moving some things before that if you wanted to."

You popped a kernel between his lips and asked, "You just really wanted a date to look forward to?"

"So bad," he replied with a grin. "I can't wait to have my professional spider hunter around all the time."

"You're ridiculous," you told him with a grin of your own. You yawned, exhausted in the early hours of Sunday morning. "I need some sleep or else I'll be dead on my feet at work this week. You need to show me that you can be well behaved and let me rest even after I've moved in with you."

"On it," he replied, dumping the remainder of the popcorn into his mouth before scooping you up and heading for the bathroom to get ready for bed.

--------------------------------

Bradley smiled as he ate some macaroni and cheese in the cafeteria later that week. He had two new dates saved in his phone calendar. The day you would be moving in with him and the date for career day at your school. He couldn't wait. He was admiring the calendar entries when his phone alerted him to a new email. It was oddly enough from your school account.

Dear Lieutenant Bradshaw,

We just wanted to reach out and thank you again for taking us on a tour of North Island. Our lessons about aviation were brought to life. It was the educational opportunity of a lifetime, and we also had so much fun on the field trip. Our classroom door is always open anytime you want to visit.

Sincerely,

Your nineteen pen pals

Immediately after he finished reading, he noticed he had another email. From your personal account this time.

Did you know there are just thirty-five days until I move to Coronado?

Attached was a photo of you holding up three fingers and five fingers in front of your naked tits, and Bradley almost dropped his phone. He could see everything, just like you probably intended, but he had to close out of the image as Maverick approached him with a frown.

"We need to talk."

Bradley's brow furrowed. "What's going on?"

The older man sighed and rubbed his forehead. "A call came in from Norfolk. Atlantic Fleet needs one more F/A-18 pilot for an assignment. Your name was mentioned."

"No," Bradley replied immediately as his stomach lurched. "Atlantic Fleet? Mav, please tell me you're joking."

"I'm not."

Bradley's head was swimming with concern. He'd only been in the Pacific Fleet for a few years, and he wasn't looking to go back to Virginia. Not even temporarily, but certainly not permanently. You were only with him because he was based out of San Diego. You told him yourself how scared you had been when you thought you were falling for a man who lived on the other side of the country.

"My name was mentioned?" he muttered. "Who else was mentioned?"

Maverick shook his head. "Nobody. They want you. I'd start thinking about getting your duffle out of the closet this weekend. I'll get your more information as soon as I can."

Bradley had more questions than answers, but he let the other man walk away without another word. When he unlocked his phone and saw the perfect photo of you, his heart clenched. Having answers to his questions would only make it harder to tell you what was about to happen.

---------------------------

But they love each other! Reverting back to full-time pen pals mode? Will that even work? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 18

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[gremlingottoosilly]

Konig X Reader who works at an underground bar as a waitress wearing one of those iconic playboy bunny suits

(I got with a bit of mafia!konig because I am a mad woman) You hate your job. It's only natural that you do. No one would ever like working in a place like this - barely legal, filled with suspicious customers, only one grade above actual sex work. The payment isn't even that good, but you needed someone who would hire without a lot of questions and tips sometimes are better than your whole normal day job makes in two weeks. Meeting with the Vienna crime scene isn't something you wished for when you moved but, then again, at least it's Vienna's crime scene. Nothing too bad. Could be worse. Much worse. You hate this stupid dress, but at least your regular is here. Yes, this place is the worst one to have a regular in, but you're managing to find the best things out of a bad situation. You just...you need a bit of something nice in the pure shit of your current life. Konig provides just that. Yes, he is pulling you on his lap every time you come to him with a drink. Yes, he is fidgeting with the side of your fishnets and rips them away with the speed of light. Anxiously grips your hips and forces you to grind on his dick as you readjust and fire his cigarette. The corner of your dumb-standing bunny ears are poking at his mask, and you both giggle. You know that he has a gun and that the giant thing poking at your clothed pussy isn't it. You don't really care because the guy would respectfully grab your tits a few times, call you beautiful in three languages at once and then leave you a tip that would be enough to cover half of your month expenses. You know that this bar is a shitty place, an illegal place. It's no wonder it grows its own little crime cell - the place ought to be shot up at some point. You just hoped that the dumb suit would provide you with more opportunities to escape...alas, this is kinda impossible. You don't even think about getting out of here alive before you feel someone yanking you by your neck. Pressing you into a big, muscular chest with a familiar smell of expensive cologne, gun oil, and blood. In all of your days serving Konig as your regular customer, you never thought that he would be down bad enough to actually buy your hand in...well, not exactly marriage, but getting you out of the bar. And you didn't know that he liked the fucking suit so much that he bought you three copies and made you wear them around the house. His house. You are not allowed to leave, or else his good will make you into a rabbit stew. Well. At least Konig is still calling you his kleine Haschen.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

About the "kwamis as mentors" angle: Interesting to read and analyse, yet I can't help but feel they were not necessarily meant to be seen as mentors. At least to me, they seemed to be kind of whacky mascot characters who are tied to the lore, who have a personality to crack a joke or point something out or cause a little situation or be cute, but nothing more.

They are rather naive magical entities chained to jewelry (a fact they don't seem to mind that much or think about at all except for Plagg) and all that talk about "being around for 5000 years" and having seen many holders before is just there to make them seem more wise than they actually act like. From what I've seen on the show I would even assume there's a threshold to how much they can even mature emotionally and understand humans. Sometimes Tikki and Plagg even come off as indifferent and egoistical towards their holders (like an example you gave with Tikki, or Plagg's fixation on cheese over Adrien at times).

So...sorry if I missed it, but why do you view them as mentor characters? You made an interesting post about rom-com vs magical girl and the magical girl part is exactly why I always viewed them just as critters to appeal to kids, but nothing more. I can see that the show's writing is so inconsistent that sometimes they are portrayed as wise but more often then not they are just background noise to get a little interaction on screen so that the characters are not talking to themselves about miraculous stuff or to point something out for the audience.

The show's writing is pretty weird, so there are elements that are hard to get a clear read on. The Kwamis are one such element. When they're one-on-one with their chosen, they often feel like mentors to me. When they're all together, they almost always read like "critters to appeal to kids" (mostly because there are too many of them to let them have individual personalities when they're all together). So while I think that they're supposed to be mentors, it's not like that's the only canon-accurate read.

To dig into what I mean by the one-on-one writing, let's look at this exchange from Feast:

Master Fu: See, Wayzz? If Marinette had kept her Miraculous, the sentimonster would have swallowed her right up. Wayzz: Or she would have transformed into Ladybug and fought it. Master Fu: Sometimes fighting is futile, Wayzz.

And then later on we get this:

Wayzz: Master, look! Ladybug and Cat Noir, despite their ridiculous costumes, they haven't let you down! Wang Fu: That's impossible! They don't have their Miraculous! Wayzz: Master, it's obvious it's them—who else would do something so crazy? Cat Noir (Adrien): Hey, have a taste of this! Some exploding banana split from Bananoir! Ladybug (Marinette): Much tastier than any Miraculous! Wayzz: Look, Master, there's no use in running! Your disciples never give up the fight, no matter what! With or without their Miraculous, they are Ladybug and Cat Noir!

That's some pretty active mentoring right there.

Wayzz is probably the character that feels the most like a mentor to me. When he's with Fu, he feels like Fu's partner or adviser, which is why I think that the Kwami's aren't supposed to just be cute critters. They're regular ol' Jimmy Crickets meant to act as a conscience that the characters can talk to since this is visual media and you want a way for the characters to talk through their thoughts instead of having them do it all internally.

I also present this exchange from Desperada as evidence:

Adrien: Plagg, Ladybug needs me. She needs "Adrien"! Plagg: If you asked me, this whole idea is worse than cheese in a can. Adrien: She thinks I'm the perfect guy for this mission. Plagg: You can't be Cat Noir and another superhero at the same time! Which means that you're not the perfect guy for this mission. Adrien: The Lucky Charm told her I am. Plagg: That's not how it works. Why am I bothering? You're not even listening.

We then get Plagg reiterating that this is a bad idea through multiple loops, ending with this:

Plagg: Ah! At last, you've come to your senses. Adrien: I'm not sure Ladybug will have very fond memories of her experience with "Adrien Agreste". Plagg: Then make up for it as Cat Noir.

See? I told you Plagg can be a good mentor when he wants to! Tikki, take notes!

I'd even call this bit from Sapitos some quality subtle mentoring from Trixx:

Alya: Oh please, Ladybug! We'd make a great team! I could help Cat Noir and you every day! Ladybug:(her earrings ring) I'm about to transform back! Hurry! Alya: Please? Ladybug: I have to go! I'm trusting you! (opens a nearby door and goes inside, so she can detransform) Trixx: You're absolutely right, Alya. I'm sure the three of you would make quite the team! You have all the makings of a true superhero. You're strong, brave; but most of all, you're trustworthy.

Way to both build Alya up and reminder her of her duty, Trixx. Gold star. Quality mentorship!

So are the Kwamis supposed to be mentors? Who knows! I just see them fill the role often enough to feel comfortable judging them through that lens.

Miraculous also isn't the only magical girl team show to make the cute critters into mentors. That's a pretty standard path even though it's also common to see the critters used to sell merch/appeal to kids and nothing more. In terms of classic magical girl team shows, I'd say that the Kwamis are written way more like Luna and Artemis from Sailor Moon than Mini Mew from Tokyo Mew Mew.

[wordsarelife]

—august

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: mattheo chose you and still you wonder why he even broke up with his ex in the first place

warnings: feeling like the wrong choice, insecure reader, angst but fluff ending

notes: i just wrote a little drabble since i already had a planned fic ready for lacy, i hope you still like it!

her hair was flowing effortlessly over her shoulders, caressing her back like it was some sort of clothing. she looked effortlessly pretty in general, soft pink lips and warm brown eyes reflecting the light of the sun when she would walk through the courtyard.

and the worst thing about her? she was nice. simply put. you couldn’t even manage to hate her, because next to being beautiful, she had a charming personality, a great sense of humor and friends everywhere she went.

you had understood if she had hated you. you, the new girlfriend of her first great love. but she didn’t and that made it impossibly worse.

“hey, y/n” she had greeted one morning, a smile plastered on her face and happiness reflecting in her eyes. “theo mentioned that you had some problems regarding the divination essay” she said and added, before you were able to retort something: “i finished mine a few days ago and thought it might help you to read over it. it was indeed a very hard task, i struggled too”

“oh” you had said, dumbfounded, and stared at the pieces of parchment she was holding in your direction. “thank you, aurora”

“no problem” she grinned. “and rory is fine, all my friends call me that”

she had left in a hurry, having to return books to the library, and you spent your time looking after her in awe, surprise and insecurity flooding your features.

it was beyond you why mattheo had decided to break up with her. aurora turner was simply perfect and you certainly weren’t.

"what's going on in there, huh?" mattheo slipped into the space beside you, touching your head with one of his fingers softly.

"oh, nothing" you quickly excused, taking your eyes off of aurora and looking to the book in front of you. "this reading for muggle studies is just taking up my brain"

"romeo and juliet?" mattheo questioned, studying the leatherbound book.

"yeah" you sighed. "the english is kinda off"

"i know" he shrugged, turning the book around in his hands and opening it to a random page.

"you know?" you repeated, trying not to laugh. "i never as much saw you look at a book before"

"i liked this one" he smiled.

your smirk died down. "oh, i didn't know that" you tried to find his eyes. "why did you never mention it? i would've read it sooner then"

"it's not a big deal, that was ages ago" he paused, unsure if it was okay to finish the sentence, but you urged him on, nodding repeatedly so he would continue. "rory liked it"

"oh" you said plainly, before you realized that your reaction was all the more telling of your inner jealousy and insecurity about his old relationship. "i mean cool"

"y/n" mattheo muttered, laying the book down in front of you. "it really doesn't matter. we don't even have to mention it again"

"i don't want you to feel like you can't tell me something, just because you experienced it with your ex" you smiled, but it was costing you all your strength. "you can talk about the past, it doesn't bother me"

"that's clearly a lie" mattheo saw through you completely. "you shouldn't have to hide your feelings to make me feel better"

you sighed, realising that it was to no use to lie to him. "sorry, i just—" you shook your head "i don't even know why you decided to break up with her in the first place and i think i'm scared that you'll realize that at one point too"

mattheo looked at you with a soft smile, his gaze searching your eyes as if trying to convey everything he felt with just that look. "y/n, i'm gonna be honest. it’s not that rory wasn’t great," he began, his tone gentle. "she is a really good person, and there was nothing wrong with her. but that doesn’t mean she was the right person for me."

you blinked, trying to process his words as he continued.

"i realized that being with someone just because they seem perfect on the surface doesn’t mean it’s the right fit. we just didn’t connect in the way i needed. with you..." he hesitated, as if searching for the right words, "...it’s different. you make me feel understood. you get me in a way that no one else does."

you looked at him with so much admiration that he had to look down, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

"look" he said, when he was able to look in your eyes again. "dating rory was like constantly standing on a pedestal and people expecting me to be something different than i was. that didn't feel right, and it shouldn't. but being with you feels like coming home after a long day, realizing that there's someone in my corner even if no one else likes me for who i am and not for who they see in me"

"i didn't know you felt like that" you muttered, ashamed that you had possibly made him uncomfortable.

"i don't, not anymore" he smiled. "not since i met you. because i don't care about the others. i just care about us, you and me"

"i love you" you said as he kissed your cheek, pulling you closer by your waist.

"i love you" mattheo mumbled against your mouth. "don't ever think you're worth less than her, just because you're not her. if anything that's what makes you more special to me"

you nodded, teary-eyed, as he pushed his lips forward to meet yours. your hands toyed with the hem of his curls as he deepend the kiss.

after that day you never questioned mattheo's choice again. and you could see that both him and rory held a lot of respect for each other. but both were not even interested in anything deeper. mattheo never looked up when he heard her voice anywhere. rory never came to the tree you had often seen them kissing at, back when they had been together.

you realized that being enough for mattheo had never meant being perfect—it had only ever meant being yourself.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

PART ONE

After accidentally causing Reader’s very first orgasm, Anthony does what any gentleman would do: he teaches her how to make it happen again, anytime she likes… ♥️

In keeping with Bridgerton’s vibe, Reader is a young woman with zero sexual knowledge or experience. I imagine she’s around nineteen or twenty years old and while she has had suitors, none of them have inspired in her the feelings Lord Bridgerton evokes…

Lord Anthony Bridgerton. Six days have passed since your carriage ride together, and instead of making peace with yourself over your embarrassing display in front of him, you now have even more questions than answers.

Firstly, what was that overwhelming rush of feelings you experienced in his carriage? And secondly, why had Lord Bridgerton reacted so calmly while watching you carry on as you did? And thirdly, had he never really intended to call on you, even though he said he would?

In truth, Anthony Bridgerton had been preoccupied with thoughts of you since delivering you home last week. He’d originally intended to call on you, but felt that approaching the subject of what he could obviously tell was your very first orgasm would be impossible while in the company of others. So, he’d conceived an admittedly unconventional plan to discuss the matter with you, in private…

Anthony knew you had questions, and as a gentleman, he didn’t want to leave you confused or even worse, feeling as if you’d somehow done something wrong. Anthony was well aware of the fact that for young ladies, sexual education was limited to none. With all the privileges of a male upbringing, Anthony had acquired plenty of sexual knowledge and experience without the attached shame and social stigma a woman would receive if expressing herself in such a manner…

The sun had gone down over Mayfair, a crisp Autumn evening settling in as its residents did the same. You’d retired to your room for the night, ready to sleep and hopefully dream of carriage rides with Anthony Bridgerton, and without embarrassment. Being so close to Anthony had felt exhilarating, at first, until that terrible-wonderful-beautiful-terrifying surge of energy had taken hold of you. If only you could repeat the events of that afternoon, the ones that involved Anthony’s recusing you, his chivalry, his act of kindness…his touching you…without the resulting fit that had seized hold of your body. A realization washed over you. Could what you experienced have somehow been caused by Lord Bridgerton? He had observed the extent of your outrageous display with complete ease. It was a bit irritating, in fact, that he seemed to understand exactly what was happening to you, while you remained completely overwhelmed and in the dark.

You gazed at the ceiling, frustrated tears burning your eyes. What would happen if Anthony told anyone of your frightful episode? You could only assume he had not spoken word of it to anyone, because surely Lady Whistledown would have mentioned it in her latest scandal sheet. Clearly, Anthony Bridgerton was an honorable man. You chided yourself for thinking anything less than a gentleman of him moments ago.

Suddenly, a shadow at your window caught your eye. Usually, birds didn’t perch on your windowsill this late in the day…and what else could have caused the shadow, besides a bird? You closed your eyes, preparing for sleep. A dull thudding sound came from the direction of your window, lurching your body forward in bed and forcing your eyes open wide.

Anthony Bridgerton was crouched outside your window. Surely, you must be dreaming. And what a scandalous dream to be having, you thought to yourself with a giggle. It was only when Anthony tapped his knuckles against the glass that you realized, much to your horror, that you were most definitely not dreaming.

He smiled and pointed to the latch on your side of the glass, making a turning motion with his hand. You left your bed for the window, quickly grabbing a robe to cover your nightgown, which did little to conceal the shape of your breasts.

You unlatched the window and lifted it only so far as to hear each other speak. “Lord Bridgerton!” you whispered harshly. “Are you mad??”

Anthony’s smile faded only slightly, his head tilted in thought. “Possibly,” he conceded. “But nevertheless, I had to speak with you.”

“And why now?” you asked. “At the most inappropriate time? In the most inappropriate way-??”

“-Because,” Anthony interrupted. “The nature of my intended conversation with you demands privacy.” He sighed, glancing down at the latch again. “Now, are you going to allow me inside?” Anthony asked. “Or would you prefer I catch my death of cold? Or perhaps-.” He peered over his shoulder at the ground below. “-Falling to my death would better suit your-.”

“-Oh for heaven’s sake!” you snapped, throwing open the window, to Anthony’s delight. “Hurry in before someone sees you…”

He swung his legs over the windowsill, nodding a polite “thank you,” while keeping his steps as quiet as possible. Your eyes swept over the yard, trying to make out the face of anyone who might have witnessed the Viscount Bridgerton of all men climbing through your bedroom window. Thankfully, the grounds looked bare; you sighed gratefully, content with remaining free of scandal. For now, at least.

You turned to find Anthony seated on your bed, a sight that nearly gave you a heart attack. He saw the horrified look on your face, and immediately stood up- “Forgive me,” he said. “I did not wish to offend you. I find it…” He paused. “…Difficult, to know where you and I stand…to judge the nature of our relationship, after-.” Anthony swallowed, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

“-After my frightful display in the carriage?” you offered, and he nodded.

“Yes,” Anthony replied. “Which, to be completely transparent, is exactly the reason I called on you tonight-privately,” he emphasized. “Because the nature of such a conversation is surely too sensitive as to be eavesdropped by others, do you not agree?”

Your eyebrows lifted, confusion written all over your face along with a blush of shame spreading over your cheeks. “People fall ill regularly, Lord Bridgerton,” you said, trying to calm the embarrassment making your voice tremble. “I fail to see how my…spell, though humiliating, as you seem eager to remind me, should warrant such a clandestine meeting as this...”

Anthony took a step closer; you flinched backward. “I do not wish to harm you,” he insisted. “Nor do I mean to imply wrongdoing of any kind on your part. If anything, it is I who acted thoughtlessly in not calling on you sooner, for not explaining that your-.” He smiled softly. “-Spell, or, falling ill as you call it, was not humiliating at all…”

You realized, for the first time in six days, that the feeling had returned. It stirred between your thighs like a dangerous, delicious secret. And while you couldn’t understand how, you were somehow sure that Anthony knew of your secret, too.

He took another step closer, and this time, you didn’t move backward. “Are you familiar with…” Anthony chose his words carefully. “…With the ways a woman’s body experiences pleasure?”

Your eyes widened; Anthony realized he may need to proceed with even more caution than he’d anticipated.

“When you…feel good,” he tried, watching your eyes for any sign of understanding. “That warmth you experience…inside your body…”

Anthony took another small step closer; you swallowed, feeling as if all the air had suddenly left the room. “…When you…touch yourself…”

He saw the lack of understanding in your eyes, and asked “you do touch yourself…don’t you?”

You shook your head, bewildered by Anthony’s lack of actual explaining. “Of course I touch myself, Lord Bridgerton,” you replied matter-of-factly; he seemed surprised by your blunt response. “I touch myself every day.”

“I’m glad to hear-.”

“-Everyone touches themselves every day-.”

He tipped his head in thought. “Well, it’s doubtful everyone-.”

“-In fact, I fail to see how that explains anything about my behavior last week, Lord Bridgerton,” you finished. Anthony looked slightly confused, and asked “when you touch yourself…do you not feel the way you felt in the carriage?”

You shook your head, embarrassment washing over you again. “No,” you replied. “I’ve never felt anything comparable to that while touching myself.”

Anthony considered his next question, and his reasons for asking it, carefully. “How do you touch yourself?” he asked, worrying immediately that he’d gone a step too far. Everything about this conversation was becoming more inappropriate by the second, but at least you seemed to have some experience in pleasuring yourself. It was a good start, Anthony reasoned.

You didn’t seem offended by his question in the slightest. “I touch myself each time I pull on my gloves, for example,” you explained, still not at all sure how this was relevant. “I brush my hair, which means I must touch myself to do so…” You continued to describe absolutely innocent everyday examples of ways in which you touched yourself, none of them pertaining to masturbation, as Anthony soon became aware.

He held up a hand to stop you, a gentle yet frustrated smile on his face. “While all of the examples you’ve given do indeed describe touching oneself,” Anthony replied, his smile fading. “They do not describe the manner of touching that would arouse feelings like the ones you experienced during your…spell, in my carriage.”

You stared at him blankly, completely confused. “How else would one touch themselves, my lord?” you asked. Anthony’s chest dipped as he exhaled, deeply. He hadn’t stopped thinking of the sounds you made in his carriage the week prior…of how you looked seized with pleasure, your pretty features contorted in ecstasy…the way your scent had remained in his carriage, how he’d used it to get himself off on the way back from your home…

Anthony knew he was treading on very dangerous ground. But despite his better judgement, he found the words he should not say passing through his lips, and his fingers drawing closer to touch your cheek: “Perhaps I might teach you, then?”

Your skin warmed beneath Anthony’s touch, his fingertip tracing your cheek and resting on your lips. It was all too much, the racing of your heart, the intensity of his gaze holding yours like no man had before. The beautiful ache between your legs was now pulsing, throbbing in time with your heartbeat.

“May I teach you?” Anthony asked again, softly. His thumb stroked the curve of your chin; your legs felt weak, unable to hold you. “Yes…yes,” you replied, every inch of you trembling. “Please…”

Anthony’s lips curved in a slight grin, but his behavior retained the calm sensibility of an instructor preparing to teach. He guided you toward your bed, gently imploring you to “lie back.” You followed Anthony’s direction, taking his hand as it was offered. His lips parted when your robe slipped off your shoulders, revealing the curve of your breasts, your peaked nipples lifting the fabric. You moved to cover yourself, but Anthony stopped you. “Do not be embarrassed,” he murmured, his voice low, sincere. “Your body is beautiful, (Y/N). It should not be a source of shame…not here. Not now.”

Anthony brought your hand to his lips, pressing your index finger to them in a pretend ‘shh.’ “No secrets,” he whispered. You whimpered softly, unconsciously pressing your thighs together, attempting to soothe the tension between them. Anthony noticed your discomfort…every part of him noticed. His cock twitched at the sound of your arousal, at the way your scent lifted through the thin fabric of your gown and straight to his nose. He watched your body tense as you tried to fend off the inevitable; you were going to come. And Anthony was going to watch it happen, again.

He loosened the cravat at his neck, the heat in the room increasing by the minute. He led your hand over your breasts, watching you gasp as your nipples perked to meet your palm. “That’s a good girl,” Anthony praised, his voice slightly strained. “Do you see the way your body responds?” He exhaled slowly, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the restraint of his trousers. “Now,” Anthony continued. “Bring your hand lower, like so…”

He guided your touch downward, dusting along your belly. You watched with widening eyes as your fingers moved closer to the space that throbbed more intensely with every breath you took. Anthony swallowed, feeling his resolve weaken. He had to keep himself under control; you were fragile, completely unaware of just how vulnerable a position you truly were in. A less honorable man than he would likely take advantage of an innocent young woman in such a state, having given him her full trust, legs spread and waiting for his command. Anthony clenched his jaw and resolved to continue your lesson, his desires forced into check.

He paused your hand just above the tender space you’d never touched, that no one had touched before. A space that in some ways belonged to Anthony already, as only he seemed able to arouse these desires in you from the start. How fitting, then, that he should be the one to guide your hand in exploring yourself, to the place that swelled and wept only for him…

Anthony’s erection was becoming distracting. He wondered if you’d notice, and ask about it. Thankfully, you seemed too consumed by the sensations affecting your own body to notice anything around you, for which Anthony was grateful. If you did ask to see it…looking all wide-eyed and innocent at his cock…asking why it stood like that, why he looked so intense-did it hurt…? What is it for…? Can you show me, my lord…? Anthony knew he’d crumble like a pastry and end up doing god only knows what…

He pressed his wrist against it, a subtle attempt at soothing away some of the pain denying himself was causing. Instinctively, you’d pulled your hand (and Anthony’s covering it) further between your legs, till your touch was hovering just above your clit. Anthony’s eyes were hooded, his lips parted and dry as he watched you. “Touch yourself, (Y/N),” he murmured, his voice husky, wavering. “Allow your body to tell you what she needs…”

Anthony gently lowered both his hand and yours, his fingertips fanning over your clit. You drew in a sharp breath, your hips bucking, the muscles in your stomach tensing as you lurched forward. “Shh…shh,” Anthony comforted you. “It almost hurts, does it not? A feeling so intense, it frightens you…like bringing your fingers too close to a flame…”

He lightly circled his fingertips over your clit again, pulling a helpless whine from your throat. Anthony’s cock twitched against his wrist, begging for relief. Sweat beaded along his hairline, his brow tense with concentration as he forced himself to maintain control.

“Focus,” he said, both to himself and you. “Lean into the feeling, frightening though it is…” Anthony used your hand to massage yourself. Your heels dug into the bed in response. “Let go of all the tension you carry,” Anthony whispered, his hand working over you. “Give in to the feeling….give in to...”

Anthony’s words failed as all his senses were consumed by the image, the scent, the sound, of you coming undone beneath his hand. You whimpered and wept, soft sobs of pleasure that spilled from your lips as your body convulsed. Your feet kicked wildly, making a mess of the bedding, sheets tossed this way and that as you flailed. In your beautiful struggle, your nightgown was thrown above your knees, putting your pretty, pouty lips on full display for Anthony. The scent of you was abundant, no longer inhibited by the cover of your gown. Anthony abandoned his pretense of modesty, aggressively rubbing the outline of his cock through his trousers while his other hand continued clutching yours.

He pulled away suddenly, a labored groan roaring up from his chest. You were just beginning to come down, your mind awash with the fuzzy, delirious bliss of orgasm. Anthony climaxed beside you, grunting through his release, filling the front of his trousers with semen. He turned to find you lying with your arms outstretched, your chest rising and falling and glistening with sweat. Your legs were still spread wide, your embarrassment long-abandoned, a big, satisfied smile lighting your eyes. Your smile faded just slightly when you noticed the look of exhaustion on Anthony’s face.

“My lord?” you said, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Anthony chuckled, nodding his assurance that he was well. “I assure you,” he replied, kneeling to sit at your bedside. “I am more than alright…”

He took your hand in his once again, feeling the slickness of your arousal on your fingertips.

“Did you…” you began, unsure how to ask. “…Did you do what I did, just now?”

Anthony’s brow lifted, his smile widening. “In fact, I did,” he said, to which you replied, in happy surprise, “I did not know that men could do it, also!”

Anthony threw his head back laughing, before quickly admonishing himself for making too much noise. He leaned closer and gave your forehead a chaste kiss, before making his way to your window.

“My lord?” you whispered. Anthony paused at the windowsill.

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“If there’s anything else you might wish to teach me,” you said. “You’ll find my window open, from now on.” A mischievous grin turned the corners of your lips. “Remember that, will you?”

Anthony smiled, his mind already teeming with a thousand filthy things he wanted to show you. “I will remember,” he said, and exited through your window. ♥️