#i wanted to go to school... i can still learn things of course but its harder and there's no community

[caffeinatedopossum]

I'm still grieving the dreams I lost due to my disability and I just added another one

[frogathy]

childhood was spent thinking i’d go to hell and men would not love me if i swore so now to heal from that i am swearing as much as i fucking can until i come to my own fucking conclusion about how i feel regarding the usage of such crude vocabulary

[gallusrostromegalus]

You don't think matcha is tea????

Matcha isn't a Tea in my humble Opinion.

Matcha is an experience.

The year is 2009, the place is the University of Hawai'i at Manoa in Honolulu, and I am recovering from a still-undiagnosed disease that left me with a 100+ degree for over three weeks, extreme weight loss and permanent Brain Damage.  I have signed up for an introductory Art History class because I need an additional Humanities credit.

It's called "The History and Philosophy of the Japanese Tea Ceremony", and for a class I can only sort of remember, it stands out.

So I'm in professor Roberts' Japanese Tea Ceremony  class, looking and feeling like death warmed over, but I'm genuinely interested in the subject matter and show up to every class because I have nothing better to do, and ask questions and turn in my homework, even if neither are particularly coherent at times, and rapidly become his favorite student.  The thing I learned in public school was how to show up to events even if I don't want to, analyze tests and other written materials for patterns and charm educators by holding up my end of a conversation, skills that have served me in the modern world far more than learning actual course content would have.

The Tea Ceremony, historically, takes a good month to prepare and the entire evening to carry out- the guest list is curated to create social bonds and intellectual stimulation alike, a poem is composed for the season, and a seasonal flower arrangement created to decorate the space. When the guests arrive, they must all crawl through a small door to enter the tea garden, regardless of profession or rank.  Hands are ritually washed in spring water, and there is a slow processional walk through the garden, to admire the artistry of the landscaping, and the composition of seasonal elements to create this particular night of beauty.  The entire ceremony is about appreciating both the joy of existing right now, in this time and place, and the unification of the self and the universe and the endless cycles of nature. 

The guests arrive at the tea house and meet the Tea Master, who will be making the Matcha that evening. The guests are seated in particular order, the Most Revered Guest- sometimes a high-ranking official, sometimes a visiting scholar or artist- is seated closest to the Tea Master.  The Poem is read aloud.  The Flowers are admired.  The tools for making the Matcha are taken out, examined as objects of art, and their history told.  The matcha powder itself is taken out- the case examined, the cultivation of the tea discussed, and only then does the Tea Master make the Tea. 

Matcha is not brewed- it's a fine powder made of crushed green tea leaves, and the powder is whisked together with not-quite-boiling water in a bowl to create a much more substantial and flavorful drink.  This drink is presented to the Most Revered Guest first, who is expected to take a sip and, in a moment of Zen spiritual clarity, comment on its flavor and how all the elements of the tea, art, garden and season all complement each other, and perhaps offer some sort of philosophical statement.

At least,

That's how it's supposed to go.

About a month before the spring semester is over, Professor Roberts announces that he has a surprise for his class- a good friend of his, a Professional Tea Master, will be visiting Hawai'i, and has agreed to perform a Tea Ceremony for our class!  I am very excited. The other 10 people in class are varying levels of amiably confused to distressed by having to go to An Event (TM) for a grade, but agree. One of my classmates, an astrology hoe named Jessica, pointed out that with the 11 students, Professor Roberts, and the Tea Master, there will be 13 people present, which is basically inviting disaster.

"Jessica." Sighed Professor Roberts. "It's a Tea Ceremony. What disaster could happen?"

Despite Jessica's misgivings, Preparations for the ceremony went on.  We learned about Ikebana while deciding on the Ceremonial Bouquet and tried our hands at it with what Professor Robert could get at the grocery store for $12. We learned about calligraphy and different types of poetic compositions while making the Seasonal Poem, and stain the hell out of the classroom carpet learning the brush strokes.  We learn about different types of Matcha Bowl sculpting and glazing and we are not allowed to touch the demonstration bowls or the kiln because Professor Roberts was beginning to suspect that some of his students (me)  were suffering from coordination issues. I apply myself with zeal, if not necessarily talent.  I was, at the time, an Art Major, but my professors in the art department had been grading me on a secret "this bitch almost died last semester and is re-learning how to hold a pencil" curve, and boy howdy did I stumble and break leaves and splatter ink like it.

Despite my ongoing unmonitored recovery, Professor Roberts viewed my enthusiastic class participation with rose-colored glasses, and about a week before the ceremony we had a class where he brought out the used Kimonos and Obi and other forms of japanese dress he'd borrowed from the theater department so that we would be traditionally dressed(ish) and experience the ceremony authentically(ish).  While people were trying on clothes to see what would fit, he took me aside and told me he wanted me to be in the position of Most Revered Guest, the person who makes the zen statement upon which the entire event hinges.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I asked.

"You're the only person who doesn't fall asleep in class and you talked about how the flowers stagger their blooms to not compete for the bees- you're perfectly engaged and conscious of the seasons!" He said, blindly. "You will need different shoes though."  He indicated my flip-flops.  "I won't make you learn how to walk in Geta, but nothing with Heels. Ballet flats are fine."

"...These are the only shoes I own." I said.

Professor Roberts stared at me.

"-I used to have a pair of sneakers but I think a homeless guy stole them while I was at the beach last month."

"What?" Roberts blinked.

"He probably needed them more than I do. I'll see if I can borrow some flats."

"...I don't think I've ever met a woman with less than 10 pairs of shoes."  Said Roberts.

"I'm not a woman, I'm and undergrad." I said, still three years away from learning the term 'Nonbinary'.  "Those are Jordan's only pair of shorts, you know." I pointed at my classmate, who had been wearing the one (1) pair of basketball shorts for the entire semester.

"I WASH THEM." Jordan shouted defensively, wearing the longest Men's Kinmo the theater department had, which barely came down to the top of his calves.

"Oh God." Said Roberts, a horrifying new world opening up to him like a tub of Expired sour cream.

*

It was the day of the Ceremony.

The Seasonal Theme we'd worked on was "The Turn Of Summer", and the weather was complying maliciously. 

Normally, Tea Ceremonies are scheduled for the more temperate evening, but due to the school needing to host something in the adjoining cultural center later, we could only use the Tea Garden in the middle of the afternoon, and the summer sun was a sweltering 98 degrees and a similar level of Humidity.  The Camelias were melting.

Where Jordan had difficulty finding a Kimono that suited his ent-like proportions, I'd had the opposite problem and the only Kimono short enough to not trip my Hobbit-sized self was a Child’s size.  My roommate had helped me get into the Kimono and Obi before the ceremony, and leant me a pair of her Ballet Flats, but we discovered an issue- this Kimono was designed for a flat-chested prepubescent youth, and even though I barely scraped 5'0", I had the robust proportions of an Irish Peasant, and the only way to avoid displaying a frankly offensive amount of cleavage was to use the widest Obi we could find and sort of tuck my boobs into it. 

"Hm" I said. "Kind of hard to breathe."

"Yeah, but you're sitting for most of it, right?  It can't last more than an hour, so just like, shuffle and don't talk much?"  She suggested.

To her credit, the first forty-five minutes of the ceremony only involved shuffling through the gardens and not talking while the Tea Master lectured us on some of the finer points of the garden's design. 

But then we got to the Tea House- a small structure only barely able to accommodate the 13 of us, which was in the shade but hotter than the outside because of the roaring fire in the middle of the room, where the water for the Matcha was boiling.  The room was surrounded by a narrow sort of porch, part of which hung over the Koi pond, where several massively overfed carp blurbled expectantly for treats at the arrival of humans. I sat down, legs folded under me like Professor Roberts had insisted, and realized that this pushed the Obi UP, and now my rib cage was being compressed in all directions.

I tried to pay attention to the rest of the ceremony, but two and a half hours is an awfully long time to listen about lecturers you've already heard when your body is undergoing a sort of internal horserace to see if the heatstroke, sciatica pain and numbness, allergies or suffocation-by-compression will cause you to pass out first.  My legs had gone numb below the knee by the time we were done with the flower arrangement.  My entire legs were numb before we were done with the Poem.  By the time the Tea Utensils came out, I was seeing spots of colored light in my vision and could only breathe if I focused on it very, very hard.

But! The ceremony was genuinely interesting! and Professor Roberts was counting on me!  So I did my best not to sway or throw up from watching the Tea Master whisk the Matcha, and dutifully took the bowl with a pair of hands that felt like slabs of ham that I was attempting to puppet from another dimension, and took a sip.

They say that Smell and Taste are far more closely connected to the emotional centers of the brain than any other sense, and I believe it because the instant I inhaled both the grassy, powdery smell, and tasted the moderately viscous bubbly liquid, I experienced an intense flashbulb memory back to a previous late May-

The Year was '98, the place was my elementary school art room, and we'd been using the seasonal hot weather to paint on a massive scale as the art dried quickly- each third-grader had been given a roll of butcher paper, a cheap brush, squirts of non-toxic paint and a water cup, and allowed to go hog-wild on our murals, and the rush of creative energy and the imminent sense of freedom as the semester drew to a close truly embodied the summer of youth, carefree but with an almost psychotic fervor, where lack of care was both freeing and dangerous as you lost track of your surroundings in the act of creation-

Which isn't a bad seasonal-philosophical connection statement to make, but the actual words that came out of my mouth were:



"Wow. This tastes exactly like paint."



The first sound I heard after the moment of silence was the cartoonishly loud gasp of horror from Professor Roberts, which was almost immediately drowned out by the thunderclap of laughter from the Tea Master, slapping his thighs and wiping tears from his face, unable to stop. I desperately tried to explain the connection between the fact I might be dying of heat stroke right now, and how I ended up drinking my paint water back in Mrs. Krantz's art class because back then I was also dying of heat stroke, but mostly ended up wheezing half-formed sentences as the rest of the class took sips and offered opinions varying between "Wow, that's thick. Like a Hot smoothie." and "Oh yeah, it tastes like summer. Like how a freshly-mowed lawn smells like summer." Professor Roberts slowly melted into a pile of shame, and the Tea Master slapped him on the back, still howling with laughter.

"They're honest! Nobody else will be honest!  This is magnificent!"  he wheezed.

Eventually, everyone had their taste, and the ceremony was concluded.  The second the Tea Master had packed up his tools and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, Professor Roberts was in my face.

"HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT?" he hissed, grabbing my arm and pulling me up. "GO APOLOGIZE RIGHT NOW!"  he shoved me out onto the porch where the Tea Master was looking at the Koi, who had started bubble-begging aggressively again.

Except that my legs felt like blocks of wood that my pelvis was renting from another planet where legs hadn’t been invented yet, my vision was entirely static between the dehydration and lack of oxygen, and my vestibuar system had fucked off an hour ago, leaving me to stay upright by purely by the virtue of the over-tightened Obi.  So instead of bowing and apologizing profusely like my professor expected, what I actually did was stumble out of the room, say something like "Hsdfkf" and topple head-first into the koi pond.

Fortunately, the impact of the bottom of the pond with the top of my skull activated a sort of last-resort emergency self preservation system and I inhaled with enough force to break the Obi-Jime and probably a couple ribs from the pain that hit both my sides like lightning.  Unfortunately, the thing I was inhaling was fish-shit riddled Pond Water, so my emergency self-preservation system ordered an even harder Exhale. 

The Tea Master, to his immense credit, had immediately jumped in after me, and pulled me upright just in time for me to forcibly exhale half a gallon of rancid pond water directly into his face, then start screaming.  Screaming is an extremely appropriate reaction to have when injured, because it alerts everyone that you require medical attention, but is very unpleasant to experience from four inches away, which is probably why he then immediately dropped me.

Fortunately the pond wasn't very deep and this time I sat there, scream-gasping as my lungs reinflated, Koi fish burbling and sucking at me with tremendous excitement, until the EMT from the campus clinic arrived, a vanguard before the actual ambulance.

"Okay uh. You're bleeding." he said, cautiously wading into the pond.

I opened my eyes to find that I had apparently acquired a large and profusely bleeding head wound, which had activated some long-suppressed Shark Instincts in the Koi, which were eagerly gumming at the streams of blood and trying to suck on my forehead. "Good thing they don’t have teeth." I said in the distant bliss that only zen masters and people with serious head injuries get to experience.

"Do you want a towel?" he asked, helping me up.

"No, this is rather refreshing, actually." I said, still absolutely smashed on endorphins, Koi still enthusiastically swarming at my kneecaps.

"I mean like for your-"  the EMT Gestured Vaguely at my torso.

I looked down and realized that not only had I broken the Obi-jime, the entire Obi had come undone and was floating several feet away, and I was only wearing the Kimono, fallen completely off my shoulders and was only being prevented from performing a full Lady Godiva by the valiant efforts of the safety pin my roommate had put in to keep it folded correctly while we figured out the Obi.

"Professor Roberts?" I stood up all the way, soaking wet, bleeding from my forehead with such force as to create actual streams of blood down my face, neck and chest, tits out, and addressed the poor man standing, white-faced on the deck above the pond.  "I don't think I'm going to be in class on Monday-" I paused to fish a small Koi that had gotten trapped in the remains of the now-ruined Kimono, and tossed it back into the pond. "-Can I schedule a make-up exam for the Final?"

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GET IN THE AMBULANCE!" He screamed.

I was x-rayed for a skull fracture, but my lifelong membership to the Lactose Tolerance Club had protected me, and I happily texted my roommate to come pick me up as "They x-rayed my head and found nothing" while the doctor stitched part of my scalp back together.

The following morning, I discovered that Professor Roberts had graded my exam before I took it.  100%. Truly, the best way to get a good grade on your finals is to get a serious head injury.



So, Matcha is not a Tea, in my humble opinion.

Matcha is an Experience.

And sometimes that experience is drinking something almost exactly like paint, ruining an important cultural ceremony, traumatizing your professor,  and introducing a bunch of fish to the taste of human flesh.



***

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[beybaldes]

open the blinds, let me see your face

masterlist

Sejanus plinth x gn!reader

summary: befriending Sejanus plinth was a choice you made, falling in love with him wasn’t

warnings: one use of y/n, I make Arachne crane out to be a high school mean girl, little bit angsty but it’s most fluffy, miscommunication, overhearing something, Sejanus being a little self deprecating :(( protect my baby boy

an: thanks for all the love on my Sejanus fics so far!! Here’s another one <33 tag list ~ @celestialstar111 <33

Sejanus Plinth sits two seats to the left of you on the curved bench in the classroom and he always has his head hung low like a wounded dog; hunched over and trying to protect itself, ready to bite if provoked enough.

There was a day last spring when Festus Creed was mid conversation with you as you entered the classroom, and moved to sit with you so he could carry on talking to you until the lesson began. You got to your usual seat and carried on, moving one seat over and letting Festus sit in your usual seat, but when you’d arrived for your learning the following day you didn’t move back, sitting in the seat one to the left of where you usually did. Though you can’t quite remember when the one seat gap between you and Sejanus became the inch that stopped your arms from pressing against each other, you can remember when other people started to take notice.

The first had been an all-too eager Arachne Crane, who’d tried to make some scene about it over lunch, to which she’d very promptly failed. Although she’d made it perfectly clear just how weird she thought it was. “Are you two… friends?” She’d leaned across the table asking you in a loud whisper, totally oblivious to how her blazer went straight into her food in some kind of instant Karma. Her gaze flickered to where Sejanus sat, at a table for two yet still by himself, head hung low. Arachne’s face scrunched in disgust. “He isn’t the kind of person you should befriend, y/n.”

In her mind, she was just looking out for you, but in yours she was being unnecessarily mean. “And whose friend should I be, Arachne? Yours?” Silence took over the table as you scoffed, a genuine look of hurt crossing Arachne’s face for a split second and then passing, and Festus reaching for your shoulder, patting it gently as if to say ‘you took it too far this time.’ To hell with all of them, if anyone had taken things too far it was Arachne when she felt the need to make fun of sweet Sejanus Plinth for no reason. You stood from the table, half eaten lunch in hand. “That’s what I thought.”

It isn’t difficult to see where you’re going, the whole table watching as you headed straight for the seat opposite Sejanus. Arachne gets more and more appalled with each step you take, refusing to believe that you’re willing to sit with Sejanus over her, yet, you seem to ask him something, and then pull out the seat with a softer smile then you’ve ever given her and get straight to talking to the brunette. She can’t believe her eyes.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” Sejanus looks up at you with wide eyes, his whole body stilling at the question. Of course it was okay, but why would you want to sit with him? At first he thinks it’s some kind of cruel joke with the way a table full of senior academy students are looking at him with Arachne at its head, but then he thinks about everything he knows about you - you’ve never been anything but kind to him, you sat next to each other in class and made pleasant enough small talk, and though he doesn’t think you’d remember, on his very first day of attending school in the capital you came and sat with him under the big oak tree in the yard, asked him what living in district 2 had been like and shared his sweets.

He quickly rules that your question is sincere and pulls his tray closer to his side of the table, nodding. “Please do.”

“Thank you.” The two of you last about 5 more seconds without either of you saying anything before you speak up. Even facing him, Sejanus keeps his head hung low. “You’re very kind, Sejanus.”

He likes the way you say his name, the way it seems to roll perfectly and fluidly off your tongue, like it was meant to be said by you. What’s worse is he knows he likes the way you say his name so much that he’s blushing, so, he ducks his head and try’s to bore holes in the table top. “I don’t know about that.”

Once more, Sejanus Plinth was hiding away from the world, or in this case you, and you were having non of it. Tapping his hand with yours, you waited until he looked up at you before you spokes. “Really? Because I know for a fact you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.” If his face wasn’t already flushed the same red as his clothes, it would be now. “I mean, have you met half the people in this room? Kind isn’t exactly their forte.”

His smile widens so much he has dimples prominently on show that you’re not sure if you’ve ever seen before. Sejanus’s face was made for dimples and smiling, you’re sure of it. “Well, if you say so.”

From then on, not only do you sit directly next to each other in all your classes, you begin to each lunch together too, and eventually it escalates to Sejanus walking you home everyday after having lessons at the academy.

The first time he walks you home it’s pitch black out and the two of you have been sat in the academy’s library for hours upon hours studying for an exam. At the bottom of the steps you go to part ways, but Sejanus turns in the same direction as you and carry’s on walking. It’s takes three streets in the direction of your house for you to be brave enough to say anything about it.

“You do know you live in the opposite direction, right?” Sejanus’s gaze fell to the floor and he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Obviously he knew that, but he wasn’t able to outright admit he’d simply wanted to walk you home either - for some reason he could easily became a blushing, stuttering mess around you, and when you consistently looked at him like that, it didn’t make things any easier. “I know.” He didn’t know what else to say, but in an attempt to not blow his cover, he practically admitted it. “I just like talking to you, wasn’t ready to stop yet. I’d quite like to carry on walking this way, if you don’t mind.”

For the first time, it was you who became the blushing mess, looking anywhere but at Sejanus as you nodded, trying desperately to not let your hand brush against his. “Yeah, no, yeah. That’s- that’s more then okay. I don’t mind at all.”

When you finally reach your doorstep later that evening, you’ve brushed hands with Sejanus at least ten times and thought about just going for it and holding his hand twice. Three times if you count the fact you want to reach out and squeeze it as a thank you right now. “I like talking to you too, by the way. Like, a lot.”

“Oh, that’s good, that’s- yeah, wow, cool, cool.” Sejanus was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, hands still tucked stiffly into his pockets and still avoiding you gaze. If he’d look at you more, then maybe he’d see just how much were growing to like him, like really like him.

In a moment of bravery, you stood on the tips of your toes, pressing a fleeting kiss against his cheek then running up the steps to your front door. “Goodnight Sejanus, thank you.”

Sejanus stood frozen on your doorstep for a long moment, his shaking hand coming up to ghost over where your lips had just been pressed against his cheek, a dazed look in his eyes. Only hearing your door close behind you started him enough to get him moving again, and on his way home before he spent all night stood in a stupor on your doorstep.

The next morning, Sejanus felt as though he was as light as a feather walking through the academy, a skip in his step that had heads turning to look at him. Even Coriolanus had stopped him to ask what was going on, the brunette only able to respond with a bright smile and an airy promise that it was ‘nothing.’ He was sure this attitude would’ve continued all day - and perhaps even forever, getting renewed each time you pressed a kiss to his cheek again - if he hadn’t walked into the main hall to hear you and Arachne in the middle of a heated argument.

“You know it’s not like that, Arachne.”

“Well, If you’re not with him for his daddy’s money, I can’t see anything worth while. After all, he’s barely Capitol, district scum, so the only thing that would make sense is if-“ A wicked grin curled onto Arachne’s perfectly painted lips and it knocked you sick. She hasn’t even said the words yet and you knew she was about turn your world upside down, tell everyone what you’d been trying so hard to keep. “You love him.”

“No, no, that’s not-“ Your voice shook as you spoke and it was obvious to anyone that you were lying, well, anyone except Sejanus, who took your nervousness as embarrassment and felt his heart shatter. Of course it had been too good to be true. More fool him, he thought, for thinking one little kiss to his cheek meant anything.

But it wasn’t just one little kiss, it was so much more. It was thinking about holding his hand every time you were near him, it was getting two different things at lunch and having half and half each, it was knowing he’d always rather have a glass of apple juice, and that his Ma made the best baked goods in all of Panem. It was bumping your arm against his whenever one of your classmates said something stupid, it was him offering his blazer without you asking like he just knew how cold you were, it was curly hair that you wanted to run your fingers through and arms you wanted to step into and never move out of.

“You love him.” Arachne repeated, her words dripping with disgust the more she dwelled on them. Of course you would fall for the district boy, she’d only wished she’d been a better friend and stopped you before things got this far. “Poor thing, falling for a boy from the districts.”

“I’m not-“ Sejanus had heard enough, turning on his heel and heading out of the hall, not caring for the way the door slammed shut behind him. Turning to the noise, you noticed the flash of brown curls and Coriolanus stood by the closed door. “Sejanus…”

“Oh no, did I hurt lover boys feelings?”

The sound of your palm struck flat and fast against Arachne’s face resounded around the room, everyone staring at the scene in shocked silence. “Do you ever stop being a vindictive bitch? Or do you have nothing better to do?”

Pulling your bag further up your shoulder, you turned and ran for the door, wanting to catch up with Sejanus before he got too far. “Sejanus!” Dread filled your stomach as you realised it might be too late, Sejanus no where in sight. You started making a mental list of all the different places he could be heading for when the main doors closed with a hard thud. It had to be Sejanus. So, you were quick to follow, sprinting down to the opposite end of the corridor, and out into the pouring rain, not willing to lose him over something said by someone as cruel as Arachne Crane. “Sejanus, please, wait up!” Running down the marble steps without the care of slipping, you finally caught up to him, reaching out and grabbing onto his arm, causing him to still. “Let me explain, please.”

Sejanus turned to face you but kept his head hung low, something you hadn’t seen him do in months, and your heart clenched. Poor, sweet Sejanus Plinth curled into himself like a kicked dog, and it was your fault. “What is there to explain?” His words came out in a whisper, Sejanus trying his best to keep his calm as even if you were embarrassed by him, he’d never treat you wrong in anyway. Not even now. “You made it pretty clear how you feel about me.”

“Sejanus, please, Arachne was being cruel. You’re my best friend.” As you moved your grip down his arm to try and take his hand in yours, he pulled away from you, taking a step further back on the steps as well. “Sejanus please just let me explain, you have no idea-“

“You’re embarrassed of me.” He said firmly, as if it was the objective truth and you both just had to deal with that fact. He didn’t know how far from the truth it was. Sejanus’s hands curled into fists as he spoke and his voice trembled, like he was about to cry. “You’re embarrassed to be friends with the district scum who somehow made it to the Capitol, and you’ve spent the last few months becoming his friend because you pitied him, or to make fun of him, or something.” Sejanus was stumbling over his words as he got more and more upset, the rain against his face stopping you from figuring out if he was crying or not. “I get it, it’s fine, I just wish it hadn’t felt so real.”

Stepping closer to him before he could stop you, you cradled his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze and wiping away at the rain that coated his cheeks and matted his hair to his forehead. “It was real, it was so real, all of it, every single second. I promise Sejanus, I promise.” He was completely dazed by the feeling of your hands cupping his face and he only wished they’d been placed there in a different scenario. However you had taken his silence as disbelief in what you were saying, promoting you to continue, clutching his face tighter. “I’m not embarrassed of you, at all, ever. How could I be? God, I’d shout it from the rooftops just how much you mean to me if I didn’t know how much you’d hate everyone looking at you when I called your name.”

Sejanus was silent for a long moment, but leaned into the warmth of your touch, closing his eyes for a brief moment while he took in what you said. “You would?”

You tilted his head down so that his forehead pressed against yours in desperation. “I’d do anything for you, Sejanus, please.” His lips were centimetres from yours, so much so you could feel him breathe against them. It’d be so easy to kiss him right now. Instead, you slide your hands back around his head to cradle the back of his neck, pulling him into a hug. “Please… please believe me.”

Sejanus was hesitant, but wrapped his arms around you; one pressing into the small of your back and the other cupping the back of your neck. You’ve never been anything but kind to him, and he highly doubted that you’d decide to stop being now, so out of the blue. But as much as he wanted to move on from this, believe you and pretend nothing happened, Arachne’s words can’t stop echoing in his mind.

Daddy’s money, barely capital, district scum, you love him, you love him, you love him.

“Is it true?” He asked, grip on you tightening slightly incase it wasn’t and this was the last time he’d hug you. For all the months that Sejanus didn’t know if you returned his feelings or not, he lived in blissful ignorance, like you were so far out of his reach that the confession of his feelings was something he’d never have to worry about. But now that Arachne had brought it up, he needed to know for sure. As selfish as it was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle staying just your friend. “Do you really love me? Like, love me, love me?”

There was no point in trying to hide it now. You’d spent weeks trying to be brave enough to hold his hand, and last night in a daze you’d kissed him on the cheek, and even though you would’ve rather done it of your own accord, you were about to shy away from the opportunity to get it off your chest. “Yes.” You whispered, tucking your head deeper into the crook of his neck, muffling your words. If this was the last time you were going to be able to hold him, you wanted it to last. “And if you don’t want to be friends anymore then I’m okay with that. I’d rather lose you because I loved you too much then lose you because you think I didn’t love you at all.”

Sejanus stayed silent, processing and digesting each of your word’s individually. A small voice in his head was telling him that this was all a dream and he was going to be woken to reality any second, but the rain against his face and your hands at the nape of his neck told him otherwise. Pulling away from you enough to look at you, Sejanus made sure to meet and hold your gaze, cheeks flushing red at the idea alone of what he was about to say. “I love you.” Nose slotted against nose, the words were said against your lips, the breath he released after he made his admission fanning against your skin. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.” You answered, nodding your head slightly and leaning forward, meeting Sejanus in the middle in a gentle kiss. Though a little awkward and unsure, neither of you knowing where to put your hands or how to actually kiss, what you lacked in experience you made up for in enthusiasm, trying to drink up as much of each other as possible in one kiss. His lips against yours were firm, but still loving and gentle in a way unique to Sejanus, and he let you guide the two of you through it, kissing you harder when you pulled him closer and waiting for you to end the kiss.

Finally breaking away from each other, you could feel the rapid rise and fall of Sejanus’s chest against yours. The boy in front of you now was more like the Sejanus you knew so well, his head hanging low, and a hot flush coating his cheeks that he was trying to hide form the world, from you. However, his flustered facade didn’t last long, as you placed a hand against his jaw, titling his head up to look at you. “Can I kiss you again, Sej?”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could you do a scenario about Nemona, Penny and Arven with a real who has type null please? Maybe something about it transforming in Silvally?

YES NULL/SILVALLY TIME

I have one in Sword who I call "Bestie", and it's carried me through the Crown Tundra DLC. I want it in Violet so badly aaaa

Also this just reminded me of my fic that I wrote prior to Sun/Moon's release. Ya'll can give it a read if you so desire <3

That being said, this scenario will be like a sequel of sorts

........

Revealing Type: Null--or "Nully" as you've affectionately called it--to your friends was something you were initially nervous about...

But today was finally the day.

Moving away from Alola to attend school here in Paldea was quite the stressful journey, especially for your masked companion who had never know any place besides stark white labs and sandy beaches.

People kept warning you about how dangerous it was, but you never listened...and now your bond with the mysterious normal type has never been stronger.

Ever since you rescued it from an Aether Foundation facility that exploded due to its rampage, it put its trust in you and loved you unconditionally.

Learning the truth behind that supposedly "good" organization and its leader broke your heart. Although nothing devastated you more than realizing Nully had been held captive there as both experiment and prisoner.

You've tried researching its species, checking for notes and hacking into secret files the foundation kept under lock and key--and you discovered that Type: Nulls were basically created as "tamer" versions of Arceus, even having memory discs similar to the plates manufactured. They were meant to kill the Ultra Beasts should they invade Alola.

Instead, they went on a rampage (of course, that's what happens when humans try replicating a god's powers) and were confined to masks and put into cryogenic stasis. The whole project was deemed a failure.

As tragic as it was...you were relieved to have found Nully when you did and get it away from that horrible place.

Even so the mask still made it feel absolutely miserable, but unfortunately you couldn't find any further information on how to remove it without causing your precious Pokémon serious injury. There were no visible clamps to unlock, pulling it off would only cause it great pain, and cutting seemed too risky.

The only benefit was that it made Nully immune to critical hits, but the cons definitely outweighed the pros.

Maybe one of your friends knew more about the Type: Null species, and so you decided to call them all over for a picnic if they had free time.

All you could do was pray that they didn't lose their cool and scare your companion.

That's the last thing either of you needed.

Arven was the first to arrive, with Mabosstiff at his heels as usual, but he stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing the bizarre-looking Pokémon standing by your side. You could tell he was trying not to look too worried, considering the poor thing was hiding behind you now.

Still, it's obvious that he didn't have the slightest clue what he was looking at, so you explained everything to him: where you found Nully, why it looked like a rejected Arceus, and the memory discs you kept in a small folder.

So far, you haven't figured out how to utilize them in-battle. But despite the space they took up in your bag, you refused to throw them away.

"Are you sure there isn't a slot for these somewhere on its mask?" He stared at one of the floppy discs, before glancing back up at Nully, squinting. "It looks like there should be one."

"We've been pals for nearly three years, Arven..I'm pretty sure I would've found the slot by now if there was one." Shaking your head, you took it from him, sighing. "My only option is to get that thing off. The slot's probably on its body somewhere."

"Right...maybe there's a stomach hatch or-"

"¡Mira! You were right, Penny! They do exist!!"

"Nemona, slow down!! They're not going anywhere!!"

Hearing the shouts of two certain ladies from afar, you and Arven looked to see both Nemona and Penny coming over the horizon. The student council president was dragging the poor girl by the arm, with her stumbling to keep up and not lose her glasses.

When they arrived, Penny was dazed and annoyed as she scowled at Nemona, tearing her arm free of her iron grasp. But her attention was quickly set on the peculiar Pokémon who was cowering behind you yet again.

"Wow...I..never thought I'd see one up close before.." Adjusting her glasses, she gazed at Nully with interest.

"You've heard about them before?" You asked.

"Back in Galar, I found some top-secret stuff about Macro Cosmos trying to make their own instances. They literally stole the blueprints from the Aether Foundation."

"...yikes." Nemona remarked, tilting her head as she tried getting a better look at Nully herself. "It seems shy. Maybe a battle will help it-!"

"No battles, at least not right now." You smiled apologetically, patting it on the head as you looked at each other. "I know you're nervous, Nully..but it's okay. They're nothing like the jerks back in Alola who used to pick on us. They're my friends. You can trust them, I promise."

Nodding its head, it relaxed its haunches as it cautiously stepped away from your side, gazing at the trio and seeing their smiles, too.

They weren't looks of pity.

They seemed genuinely thrilled to meet it.

It stood there for some time, taking in everything you've said to it and thinking about how far it's come since you rescued it that fateful day.

Somehow, it knew it was always meant to be your companion--from the very moment you held it as it cried in the Pokémon Center, reassuring it that it's not a monster, but a sweet creature worthy of love and care.

Ever since then, your friendship has grew...and now it feels stronger, willing to put its life on the line for you if need be. Even though most of its powers have been concealed, it didn't feel like some weak and helpless lab experiment.

Oh no.

It was far from that now.

Thanks to your bond, it felt unbelievably strong.

So much so that....the normal-type realized an extraordinary change was imminent.

And you were about to witness it.

"Look! Nully's glowing, [y/n]!" Nemona pointed, her eyes widening as your companion was basked in a familiar light. "Is it evolving???"

"Oh my god...I think so." You gasped, never realizing the possibility of it evolving, but you're now certain that friendship is what triggered it at last.

The most noticeable thing were the cracks that started appearing all over its helmet, pieces of what you assumed was indestructible alien material falling apart. Nully shook its head vigorously, trying to get rid of it as much as possible.

Then it turned its attention to a nearby boulder, letting out a cry before performing a move similar to a Headbutt, ramming into it and letting the rock shatter the helmet completely.

At last, it was free.

When the glow faded, you and your friends gazed in awe as Nully looked back at all of you.

With its mask finally gone, what lied underneath it was a beautiful creature made of both nature and machine, with a beaklike mouth that smiled proudly.

"Nully...?" You murmured, stepping closer.

"Ally." It chirped, walking up to greet you.

Tears began forming in your eyes as your grin widened. "I can't believe it...friendship was all it took to-"

Suddenly, your rotomphone decided to ruin the sweet moment by flying out of your pocket.

It displayed a new entry in your Pokedex, and you grabbed it to read what it had to say, while Arven, Penny, and Nemona checked their own phones.

"I see, you're Silvally now." You gazed back up at Null--Silvally, watching it bow its head respectfully. With a small laugh, you mimicked the gesture, before petting it lovingly as you sighed. "Wow..."

You noticed one of the metal bolts on its face open up like a CD player, indicating that something had to go in there-

"Wait.." Remembering the memory discs, you took one out and held it up. "Do you want me to use this?"

Silvally nodded, although before you could do anything, Arven interjected.

"Hold on, which memory is that?"

"The Dark Memory. It probably just changes its type, but I believe this represents all the pain Silvally had to endure while being trapped in that mask, not knowing what it did wrong or why people shunned it for simply existing." You placed a gentle hand under your companion's jaw. "But now I think it's ready to turn that painful memory into power. So let's see what happens.."

"Silllllv!"

Carefully inserting the disc into the open slot, you watched as it closed up. Then you stepped back, seeing the colors and spikes on its body turn smoky black.

Even its eyes changed, and when they opened they looked even more menacing than ever.

And they stared directly at you.

With a low growl, it crept closer to you, while your friends held back..tense and worried that the pokedex entries were correct: this wasn't something you could so easily control.

There was probably a very good reason for the mask-

Yet any hostility Silvally seemingly expressed disappeared, as it smiled and licked your cheek affectionately, causing you to laugh once more. "Hey, that tickles! C'mere you!"

Hugging its neck, you grinned as you received even more kisses, hearing it purr with happiness. You petted its feathery crest, relieved that it completely trusted you now.

"Wow..it's way cooler than Arceus!" Nemona laughed. "Do you think I can battle it-??"

Silvally just shot her a wary look, and she immediately fell silent, a nervous smile on her face. "Haha, you're right. Not yet. But I swear we're gonna have an epic battle one day!"

"Yeah, one day. But for now, I have something special for this big guy."

"Sill?"

You managed to regain its full attention with a simple yet supereffective move of your very own:

It's called "chin scritches", something that none of your other Pokémon could resist receiving.

The mask obviously made it difficult for Silvally to receive proper affection back then...and you vowed to find a way to break it so you can do just that.

Now it was free of that awful and heavy thing, having a brand new life to look forward to: battles, friendships with other Pokémon, and more.

Even better?

Your three closest friends in all of Paldea were here to witness its evolution--a sign that despite all the odds...your bond was unbreakable.

[multiverse-menagerie]

I've had this buzzing around in my head since Neil posted something about Asrarion liking kids and hhhhhhhhhhhh may I please request your headcanons for the bg3 guys as dads, I am begging you

gnawing on this actually thank u

Astarion

his child/ren are his entire world. his partner is still like no.2 but the kid/s will always be no.1

its an Ordeal for vampire spawn to have children, so i think that'd make Astarion even more likely to devote himself to being the best father he could be

is absolutely the type to be like "this is my partner and our child/ren, they're way to good to be talking to you but alas"

he's the soft parent too, Astarion finds it so hard to punish his child/ren. both from fear of going too far and due to how much he adores them

dress up with dad days. Astarion with small, messy pigtails.

Halsin

daddy Halsin for real -wiggles eyebrows- (im sorry)

the type to load everyone up and go camping for however long, teaching the kid/s how to live off the land or showing off his wildshapes to entertain them

unwavering support for his child/ren (and his partner) - he tries his best to instill a sense of justice in his kid/s and respects any decision they make, assuming they can offer him a good reason

Halsin and his kid/s would Absolutely play little "pranks" on his partner, but its very harmless, silly stuff to make them laugh

his kid/s often begs to sleep with "bear dad", and who would he be if he declined?

Wyll

i honestly think Wyll is meant to be a "girl dad" lmao but he'd adore any child

he'd grown up with a (mostly) good dad who'd taught him swordplay and other practical skills and I think Wyll would want to do the same for his child/ren

he is So. Patient. willing to hear his child out about why they broke the rules, why they're acting out. He knows that sometimes there's a good reason for what looks like a bad decision

Wyll is the bedtime parent; he tells stories the best, according to the kid/s. sometimes Wyll will drag his partner into helping him out fun scenes

makes sure to have dinner with his family everyday, regardless of what type of life he's leading. they're the Most important thing to him in the world

Gale

stay at home, soccer dad vibes

is (surprisingly?) content to let his partner go off and adventure or what have ye, while he stays home with the kid/s, sneaking in some reading or experiments once they're asleep

is All In for his kid/s extracurriculars. of course he'd be happier for more ~magical~ endeavors but even if the kid is learning sword-work or some other physical thing, he'll be there to cheer them on

maybe pushes his kid/s a little too hard in regards to studying/school. Gale works hard to reign in his expectations - he knew how hard it was on himself, why do that to his kids?

the way his kid/s will have the most ostentatious vocabulary. but they also think its funny to mimic him in an even more over-the-top way bc it makes Gale's partner laugh

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 Damian

If you really think about, Damian's situation in the clone^2 au is... kinda tragic? Especially in the early months of his arrival. Like,,, think about it. Damian has always known he was a clone of Damian Wayne, that he was a copy of the blood son. There was nothing 'original' about him, not even his name (of which at least Danny has that). He was just... a replacement. A disposable one, to boot.

And he knew that, to an extent, by the time he was six years old. he might not have been actively acknowledging it -- he's six years old -- but deep down he knew. And like, he's six years old. Every small child craves the love and affection of an adult, especially their parents, and even though he knew he was clone, I imagine he still considered - and still does consider, somewhat - Talia and Bruce as his mother and father. And I really doubt he was... getting it?

Now, I know Talia loves Damian, her son. At least in some interpretations she does, and in this au she does. But... a clone of her son? I'm not so certain if she would have the same affection for baby Dames as she would for Damian. I don't think she would treat him badly, but I don't think Talia would treat him warmly either. Kinda just, distant. Colder than she would have been with OG Damian.

And, I know I've mentioned Damian's arrival from Danny's point of view, and its kind of comical kind of insane from his perspective -- a little boy clone of Damian Wayne falls through a portal and immediately attacks him. That sounds like a bad joke.

But, if you think of this from Damian's point of view? It's like he just got dropped into a scary movie. Like, think about it. You're six years old, and suddenly a portal, as green and as swirling as your grandfather's pools, opens up beneath your feet and sucks you through.

After an intense bout of vertigo, you end up in a massive, urban city -- completely different from the rural mountain palace that you lived in for the last six years of your life, and in this city, you don't know any of the language. You don't know what anyone is saying, you can't read any of the signs - you are completely stranded, away from home.

And then, to make things worse, you're facing a figure with a terrifying mask and eyes as burning green as the portal you fell through. Of course Damian's first instinct, six years old, is to attack. He's terrified.

And this figure, he's not a good fighter, but he's fast, and he dodges you quickly. He grabs your sword with his hands, and tries to restrain you, saying something in a language you don't know. Naturally, Damian is just scared. He's six! He'd just be learning how to read if he was normal child going to school.

This figure halfway through the fight yanks off his mask -- he realizes you're scared -- and looking at you now, is a youthful version of your father. This is a clone of your dad, someone you have never met but, six years old, still wants to. Damian gets defensive. This is an imposter.

But this imposter eventually gets you home with him - and he's using his little box, his phone, to communicate with you through a mechanical voice speaking in arabic. and it's frustrating. The boy, the imposter, can say whatever to you just fine, but trying to talk back is a hassle and a half. He's six, he doesn't have that much patience.

He wants to go home.

And so he keeps trying to run away. He keeps trying to find out of this hellish concrete jungle, and he keeps getting lost. It's loud, and busy, and there are people talking to you and you don't understand them, and there are rules and signs you don't understand - Damian tries to cross the street and nearly gets hit by a car. He doesn't know how the road signs work, he was never taught. They didn't get to that.

And he gets lost. And it gets dark, and Damian is brave, but he is six, and this is the worst stress he's been under in all his six years of life. He wants, desperately more than anything, to go home. Why wouldn't he? The only stable... semi-stable environment he was in just got ripped out from under his feet, literally! He wants his mother.

And it's not happening.

But there's something good to be said, at least. The imposter that looks like his father always comes and finds him, no matter what. He could have left that morning, and he will find Damian at midnight, frazzled and worried, and carrying an extra jacket with him because it is cold in Amity Park and Damian is six years old.

And sometimes Damian attacks him - he's scared and stressed and he doesn't want to be here. And every time he catches the sword. Even though Damian can see it cut into his hand and pearls of blood well up and stains his fingers. Even though Damian can see him wince in pain and bite his lip, he still catches it.

But with that little box, he coaxes Damian to come back with him. It's cold, it's dark, Amity Park is unsafe at night. They can figure something out tomorrow, please. And every time, he agrees, reluctantly. And the imposter takes the extra jacket he brought with -- a flannel, a hoodie, a jacket -- and he wraps it around him. It's warm, Damian's clothes are not that thick, and even though he thinks he might hate this imposter, he still sticks close to his legs as he leads him down the street.

And sometimes the imposter carries him, because Damian's shoes are not that thick, and he cuts his foot on broken glass while they're walking home. The imposter sits in the bathroom with him and carefully cleans the cut out, and makes sure it doesn't get infected.

There's hope you know, he still has it. His mother will be looking for him. She'll be worried. He's important to them. Damian may not be the original, but he is still a blood son. He is still her son. She will come find him. This nightmare will end soon. He can go home.

And then weeks pass, and nothing. Then months, and nothing. His family is not coming for him, and it hurts. Hurts more than anything. And yet while that happens, the boy he's attacked, and hurt, teaches himself arabic in order to speak to him. He takes Damian out of the house one afternoon and buys him new clothes, or tries to. And then he keeps buying him new clothes. He gives him blankets and gives up his bed to him until they can get him one himself, and steadily he teaches Damian english.

This boy is kind. Kinder than Damian's ever experienced, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He's devastated by the fact that he is not as important to his family as his family is to him. What do you do when you're six years old and you learn something like that? When a random stranger who looks like your father is kinder to you, and cares more about you than your family did?

And then Damian tells him he's a clone. He's Damian Wayne's clone, and he tells him his purpose - that their grandfather made him to kill him. And the boy, the imposter, Damian thinks he probably already knows that he's a clone. But he doesn't say that. He just nods, and asks him if he wants to tell his original about him.

Damian says no. He doesn't want to. He's tired of living in the shadow of his original. He wants to keep this to himself. This is his. For once, all of this is his.

And to his surprise, the imposter doesn't try and convince him otherwise. He just nods, and says okay. And when Damian asks why, the imposter - his brother - looks at him and says.

"I don't care about Damian Wayne. I care about you." And in Damian's gobsmacked silence, his brother continues. He tells him that if Damian doesn't want to tell his original that he exists, then they don't need to. They don't need to worry about the LoA going after him, because clearly if his 'grandfather' needs to make a clone of Damian in order to take him out, then whatever it was that Damian Wayne was doing to keep himself safe, was working.

"Wayne already has people in his corner, he's got Gotham's army of vigilantes to keep himself safe." his brother says with his eyes as blue as moonlight. "You, however. Do not." And he continues, and says that if Damian Wayne has the same training as Damian does, then he will be fine. He doesn't need to be aware of his clone. Because if DW doesn't know about Damian, then the LoA doesn't either.

And here's the thing. Damian would not have survived in the LoA for long. Not as a clone. No matter what, he was going to die no matter what he did, and sooner rather than later. The sword of Damocles was always hanging above his head in the League of Assassins.

That portal, and meeting Danny, saved his life. There's no way around it. And to an extent Damian knows this even at six years old. He may not be aware that he would've died, but he knows that meeting Danny was the best thing to happen to him.

It's no wonder after that, that Damian is as clingy to Danny as he is. Danny is the first person he's met to offer him unconditional love, with no strings attached, only pure affection.

[skamenglishsubs]

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 4

Last episode ended with Simon coming home to a smashed window, this episode starts the morning after, Simon takes the bus to school, while Wilhelm is anxiously waiting for him.

Culture: At a high school level in Sweden, there's national tests in Swedish, English, and Math. Like everywhere else, the purpose of these tests is not only to grade students, but to align all schools across the country to combat grade inflation.

Blink and you miss it: Vincent is trying to cheat by looking at Nils' answers.

Blink and you miss it: Vincent draws a dick in the gravel while waiting for the others to be done with the test.

Subtext: This entire episode is overflowing with examples of privilege. For Vincent, and many other rich kids like him, studying and learning doesn't matter, they'll graduate regardless, so he doesn't care about the exam, he only cares about the graduation party.

Cinematography: Even with Felice and friends being completely blurred out in the background, you can still see Stella and Fredrika turning to look at Sara, and then turning their backs on her.

Culture: In the US, a lot of people are using "socialism" as a catch-all phrase which means politics they don't agree with, regardless of its actual ideology. Likewise, in Sweden, a lot of people use "communist" in the same way about generally left-wing politics, which is what Vincent is doing here.

Subtext: Wilhelm asks Simon if he can reconcile the conflict of dating a royal while being anti-monarchy, but the real question is of course if Wilhelm can reconcile the conflict in himself.

Subtext: This is where the show's political stance shines through, and this argument, that Wilhelm wasn't allowed to choose his life for himself, is the main argument they're gonna use in the finale.

Subtext: Wilhelm is weakly defending the monarchy, but just ends up repeating what his mother told him; it's a privilege, not a punishment, but does he believe it himself?

Subtext: The letter-to-yourself plot is mainly there in order to help August along his redemption arc, but here the show is using it to reinforce the point of the previous scene. Who does Wilhelm want to become? Does he have a choice?

Culture: In Sweden, Säkerhetspolisen, SÄPO, is the government agency in charge of national security, which includes providing security and assigning bodyguards to the royal family.

Subtext: Note the great use of passive voice here by Farima to avoid taking responsibility for the decision to force August to join the birthday foundation event. She's also expertly bargaining with Wilhelm to get what she wants.

Subtext: We know it was the far-right assholes who posted comments to Simon's videos a couple of episodes ago.

Blink and you miss it: Jan-Olof really perks up when Linda talks about moving to Gothenburg, because that would probably mean the end to the relationship between Wilhelm and Simon, which would solve all of his current problems.

Subtext: Like Farima, he bargains with Linda and Simon to get what he wants, for Simon to stop posting things to social media. It's almost as if their strategy was to do nothing at the start, waiting for things to blow up so they could swoop in, help out, and start making demands in exchange...

Blink and you miss it: The option to inactivate and hide your social media account is right there, but of course Simon has to choose to delete everything, because it will cause more drama and anguish.

Blink and you miss it: Fencing! Woohoo! I did fencing for five years as a kid until 8th grade or something, but I only did foil, and not épée like these students. I have absolutely no idea where these two are coming from or going to though, where would they practice? Is there a hidden fencing hall somewhere on the grounds that we haven't seen yet? How many kids at Hillerska are fencing? Also, he's carrying a practice blade and not an electric competition blade, so that checks out. Of the three types of modern fencing, épée is unique in that the entire body counts as a valid target, while in foil only the torso counts, and in sabre only the upper half counts. Oh wow, it looks like the gear is now wireless and every fencer carries their own indicator lights. Cool! Back in my day you had to be strapped in with a cord for competitions.

This tumblr is now about French School fencing. Allez! Touché!

Subtext: The narrative is that it's perfectly ok for the crown prince to be gay, as long as he's not gay gay.

Culture: The show keeps saying this, but in real world Sweden it's no longer the case. Supporting los jibbities is viewed as a completely mainstream and inoffensive opinion, on par with supporting human rights in general.

Subtext: Another example of privilege is being in a position to do a lot of good, and then just not caring about it. Simon is fighting for the causes he believes in, so seeing Wilhelm just casually throw it away is extremely disappointing for him.

Subtext: Unlike Vincent, August is actually a natural leader, someone people listen to, which is why he manages to quiet down the room when Vincent is unable to. Maybe a good quality in a future king?

Subtext: Simon is continuing the argument from before. Wilhelm could have shown solidarity with mental health causes or LGBT causes, but chose not to. However, he immediately decided to join in solidarity with the other rich kids protesting the school rules, which is rather selfish.

Subtext: Colour theory! Sara in purple, because part of the reason she's back at school is that August asked her to? And Simon in yellow, because he sure isn't loving Wilhelm very much right now.

Subtext: Just a reminder that Sara has actually been completely out of the loop since the end of season 2. She has no idea about the school rules, what's happened at home, how it's going with Simon and Wilhelm, or what's happening at school.

Blink and you miss it: Fredrika is so close to stop striking as soon as she's threatened with repercussions.

Subtext: I keep hammering this point home: The culture is in the walls, it's not something some of the kids made up. The visiting alumni were also hazed as new students and kept it going as third years. Same for the parents of all these kids. They're all part of the system, they all kept the cycles of abuse going, because they want the school to be like that.

Subtext: Privilege is thinking you can get things your way with almost no effort. None of these kids have ever struggled or protested something for real and then not been given what they wanted, so they seriously believed they'd win immediately.

Subtext: Another theme of this season is bringing secrets out in the open. We've all seen August struggling with body dysmorphia and an eating disorder since season 1, but no-one has ever called it out and put words on it, until Simon immediately recognizes it and calls it out.

Subtext: ...while the rich kids are just stuck in denial, because eating disorders is for poor people or something, it's not something that happens to them. And if it did, you certainly wouldn't admit it to anyone else.

Subtext: August tries to jokingly fend off Nils because he doesn't want anyone to know that the letter actually meant something to him, until Nils pushes too hard, and August punches him.

Subtext: Vincent talked a big game about striking in solidarity, but when they're caught as hilariously unprepared as they are, they're not pooling their resources in solidarity with each other, and instead resort to selling them to the highest bidder. Capitalism in a nutshell, illustrated perfectly by the behaviour of spoiled rich kids. Also, pet peeve, the English word for the currency of Sweden is "kronor", not "crowns".

Lost in translation: They're actually repeating a single word in Swedish, "svikare", which is pretty hard to translate. The verb, "svika", is a bit worse than letting someone down, but not as bad as betraying someone. The adjective, "besviken" typically means disappointed. So "svikare" means a person who is letting other people down, disappointing them, or betraying them.

Subtext: The culture is in the walls of the place, but the kids are also pretty damn complicit in continuing all the shitty traditions. This looks like a game of strip poker or truth or dare that went off the rails and just resulted in more bullying, with everyone joining in.

Subtext: The other girls are upset with Felice because she broke the code. You don't snitch to outsiders, you don't tell the truth, you keep up appearances.

Blink and you miss it: Henry won the potato chip auction, happily ate the entire bag, and passed out in a chair, clutching the bag. Mmmm, sourcream and onion.

Subtext: Speaking of closing ranks towards the outside, this also applies to this strike. It would be bad PR for the school if anyone outside found out that it happened, so it's better to solve it quietly and discreetly. Vanessa can trust the kids not to snitch. Vincent is also right, the parents, who are paying the tuition fees, are on their side.

Subtext: Felice can't be seen talking to Sara, so she checks that the coast is clear, and then drags Sara into a private bathroom to have their conversation.

Subtext: Likewise, Sara was probably Felice's first real friend.

Subtext: Nice little foreshadowing. I would have loved seeing Simon's drawing though!

Subtext: Well, he could have just made his social media private, but the show has to maximize the drama, so here we are, piling on more examples of how Simon is losing himself to the monarchy, that maybe he can't reconcile the conflict.

Subtext: Erik spent three years living at Hillerska, of course he wouldn't have told his then twelve year old kid brother about all the shit going on at the school. August spent an entire year living with Erik at the school, seeing what went on first hand, so of course he knows a side of Erik that Wilhelm doesn't.

Subtext: August has been trying to keep his mouth shut and avoid Wilhelm, but since they have yet another fight, he decides to drop the bomb about Erik to hurt Wilhelm.

Subtext: Again, the culture is in the walls. This is not something that only Erik's class did, once. It's probably been happening to all the boys for decades. It happened to the current second-year students, it happened to Erik, and lots of students before him who kept this shitty initiation tradition going.

Culture: Let's talk about the gay porn hazing a bit more. To me, this is an urban legend. I heard about it when I was a teenager back in the 90's, but I don't personally know anyone it happened to, or anyone who did it to anyone else. It was always hearsay, it happened to a friend of a friend's brother, or a classmate's cousin's friend or something similar, as is typical of urban legends.

Let's also make one thing absolutely clear: It doesn't work. The homophobic idea behind this shit is that if you are forced to watch gay porn and get a boner, you are gay, and if you don't, you're straight. But that is actually not true, erections don't work that way, and the fear of being found out is quite the boner killer. Also, what if you like guys, but the guys in the porno aren't your type? There's just so many ignorant misconceptions behind this idea.

I've also seen a lot of fan comments that keep playing into this ignorance; that the only reason Nils decided to stop the tradition was because he obviously failed it. Or that the only reason August is against it is because he failed, and the only reason he failed is because he's secretly not straight. No. Remember that the test doesn't work. Nils probably passed, despite actually being gay. August might have failed, despite being completely straight. Regardless of what happened, they both found it humiliating, and that is why they made a pact to stop it.

[nfr-girly]

Little Hope - Bradley Bradshaw x reader (Part 1)

Bradley’s priority’s have always been the navy and his daughter, hope, but what happens when his daughter’s teacher comes into the mix?

a/n: literally never wrote a fic before let me know if it’s good

Ever since Bradley and his ex had split up, he had been his daughter’s main guardian. He doesn’t really speak to his ex, and he doesn’t want to. Balancing being a dad and the navy wasn’t easy, so when the time came for Hope to go to pre-school, he couldn’t complain.

“Hey have you got your bag?” Brad asked

“Yes!!”

“And did you brush your teeth?”

“Of course I’m not like you” she rolled her eyes jokingly, to which he smiled at

He strapped her in her seat and pulled out of the drive. Brad was feeling all types of emotions, relief that he could spend some more time in the navy while she learns, sad that she’s growing up, also happy for her to make friends. He didn’t like feeling emotions. He never thought it ended well, and in his case it never had.

Pulling into the car park of the school, he stops for a minute. The school is a good size; he sees kids running around, parents talking to each other. He feels a sense of hope that she’ll be okay, but the other half is telling him to take her back home.

“Daddy are we going in??” Hope asks, the gap where her tooth was showing clear, she sits cuddling her bear.

“Oh yeah honey sorry” he gets out and unstraps her out her seat; they walk hand in hand towards the school.

Walking along he feels some eyes on him, at first he thinks maybe they’re judging him, or worst, hope. But as he glances he realises some of the mums are checking him out. He looks away quickly, he had decided to wear a very tight shirt today.

He walked into classroom 2b, which was what classroom hope was apparently in. He looks around and sees the back of who he guesses is the teacher. He waits till she’s done talking to a student.

But as soon as she turned around, Bradley had completely zoned out everything around him but you. As you notice him, you give him a smile and start walking towards him. If he didn’t feel nervous already, he absolutely did now.

“Hi!! Im Miss L/N!! I assume you are hope?” You kneel down to match hopes height, while Bradley’s eyes are still on you. He would’ve thought he had landed in heaven seeing you.

“Yes!! This is my daddy!!!” Hope says, tugging at Bradley’s shirt. He snaps out of his trance as you get up again, trying to understand what just happened

your POV

Being in the presence of Hopes father could be classed as its own national holiday, because being able to meet a man that gorgeous should be celebrated.

“Hi! My names Miss L/N, but you can just call me Y/N” I whisper the last part

“Hi.. Im uh- im hopes dad, but my names Bradley” he says as he shakes my hand. I don’t even know if I can think the things I’m thinking about a students dad, but who gives a shit.

“Nice to meet you Bradley, I just know hope will have a great time here!” I smile at him, which he grins back at.

“Yeah I hope. She’s feeling excited so it should be alright. so uh I gotta get going now, but pick ups at 3:15 right?”

“Yeah!” I reply; feeling sudden disappointment from him having to leave

“Hey honey I’ll be back soon okay?” He has a little conversation with his daughter, I notice a lot of features they share, same nose, same eyes. It makes my heart fill with warmth even more

He gives her a peck on the cheek before getting up.

“Well I’ll uh, pick her up at 3:15 then” he says

“Yeah um see you then” I smile

He smiles back before turning around and heading out the door.

“So hope let’s get you to your desk and meet your classmates okay!” I say

“Okay!” She smiles as we walk towards the classroom. She talks about her teddy bear, and how she named him Rooster, I assume maybe she likes roosters? Half of the conversation I may have been thinking back to her dad. God, why is 3:15 so far away?

————————————————————————

[koolades-world]

One bed troupe w/ Mammon

There wasn't a boring day with Mammon around. As your self proclaimed first man, he ensured you went everywhere together. Because of this, he often dragged you along to gatherings with his friends.

When you first arrived in the Devildom, you didn’t get out very much. It was a pretty straight schedule: wake up, get walked to school by whoever's turn it was that day, do class, get walked home by someone else, do homework, go to sleep, then repeat. Once you got closer, Mammon realized how boring of a life you were living despite being in hell. He vowed to make your life more interesting and began showing you the fun side of life. He brought you to bars, restaurants, his favorite casino (of course), and so much more.

Today was no different. You were at a casino together with his friends early in the evening. You had grown closer with them at this point, and things weren't awkward when he had to leave for whatever reason. While nice, you began to learn the things Mammon hadn't told you that he told them. It was never anything bad, rather, it was usually cute things, such as how he really loved when you wore yellow or gold since he gushed to them every time you did.

Mammon had walked off to cash out his large bucket of tokens he'd earned for the third time that night, leaving you and his friends to chat.

"Tonight is a good night, huh?" You sip at your drink, lazily stirring it with the cute decorative pick that came with it.

"It is!" His friend states, shaking his own bucket.

"Mammon would say, it's cause of you." Another chuckles. You join in, amused.

"That's my Mammon. I'm happy to be a good luck charm, especially since he bought me my drink." You cause the group to laugh. The conversation begins to drift, but somehow makes its way back to Mammon

"You know, he's a little worried about you. Later tonight, one of Vazimid's friends is stopping by, but Mammon has been saying he hasn't liked the way he's been eyeing you." This statement worries you too. You know that despite growing comfortable, the Devildom is by no means safe. Mammon is protective, but it's rare that he'd admit it. Before you could respond, Mammon came back.

"Hey, Mc! I'm rich! Gotta say, I only do this good when yer around." He fixed his jacket, a smug grin on his face.

"Well, I wouldn't mind joining you every time you come here." You throw your arms around him, catching him off guard. The confidence melts away from his face as he begins to stutter, causing you to hug him tighter. The next few hours go well, until that friend arrived that nobody seemed to want there, which killed the mood. Mammon kept you close, but it eased him when you were by his side.

Later in the night, someone else in the group conveniently ended up winning several fancy room in the hotel the casino was in, free of charge. It was all a little too convenient. When Vazimid's friend asked who would be staying with who, Mammon immediately claimed a room for the both of you that nobody else was allowed in. After you teased him a little about it, a quick uncharacteristic glare to silence you. Not wanting to make him more upset, you remained quiet.

After collecting the room key, he drags you away from the friend group and onto the impossibly tall elevator. The ride up was quick, but neither of you spoke. Once you arrived at the room, Mammon unlocked it and promptly close it behind the both of you. You finally work up the courage to speak, but you’re not really sure what to say, or where to start.

“Mams? Is something wrong?” You put a hand on his arm and peer at his face. His expression is tight but softens once he sees the worry in you eyes.

“Nothin’ darlin’.” He smiled at you, but you can still tell something is bothering him.

“I know you. Tell me what’s wrong.” You placed your other hand on his other arm so you could pull him closer.

He hesitates at first, but eventually speaks. "Do ya really wanna know? It's dumb." He glanced at you.

"I do. Now tell me." You waited.

"It's that demon that Vazimid keep brining around. Don't trust him around you at all. I just know he wants to get his slimy hands on you." He sighed. You giggled a little at the realization.

"It's alright to be jealous, babe." Mammon back away from you instantly at the accusation.

"Hey, hey. That's not what I said!" His ears turned red, confirming what you thought.

"Whatever you say. Will sharing that bed with me quell your inner turmoil?" You began to giggle more as he came to the realization that he'd picked a room that only had one bed. 'It's free, Mams. You love free things." You scanned the room and saw a variety of goodies laying around the room you knew Mammon would scoop up once he was done being embarrassed.

You decided to leave him to his own devices and get settled in the room. You took a quick trip into the bathroom to find two sets of hotel branded pajamas that were suspiciously in the correct sizes. You showered with the nicest soaps you'd ever gotten your hands on and reappeared to find Mammon sitting on a chair, on his D.D.D.

"I'm done, knock yourself out." You throw yourself down onto the bed, face first.

"Took ya long enough." He skulked away and took his turn in the bathroom too. When he was done, and also emerged in the matching, branded set, he seemed less enthusiastic to get in the bed than you had been. Once he sat down, though, he realized how nice it actually was.

"Ya should've told me how soft these pillow were." He cuddled one of the pillows to his chest.

"If I didn't, maybe you wouldn't have at all and I could've had this entire bed to myself. Now, stop cuddling that pillow and cuddle me instead." You rolled yourself over to him and did grabby hands in his direction. He went red again, but listened. His hair was still a little damp from his shower and the jasmine scented hotel soap made him smell wonderful. He always ran very hot, which you enjoyed since he worked as a great personal heater. Once he had decompressed, you spoke a little bit about your plans for tomorrow, and eventually you drifted off.

Mammon remained awake for a little bit longer, thinking about the exciting evening the both of you had had. He was thankful that he had you, and even though he would never admit it, he had been jealous. He hated the idea of sharing you with some werido that he never invited in the first place. He hugged you a little tighter, and eventually feel asleep himself, thinking about you.

[spncvr]

scott street | remus lupin

summary: You return to your childhood home. Remus, your past love, unexpectedly returns. (based on the song scott street if that wasn’t obvious)

pairing: rockstar!remus lupin x fem!reader (3rd person oops sorry)

warnings: is this.... angst?? idk but hurt/comfort!! no use of y/n bc i cannot write that and not die a little, and my terrible english i'm sure i mixed all the tenses up here guys sorry im tryinggg,, this is lowk cheesy as hell i feel like... LMAO

a/n: i was sick so i didn't go to school tdy but i wrote this banger oneshot (its 2,4k words can u belive?? longest thing ive ever written in english)

masterlist

Walking Scott Street, feeling like a stranger

With an open heart, open container

THE SUN SUNK behind the many leaves which hung lazily on the branches. Through the old sheer curtains, the breeze blows faint whispers. The room is tinged with a familiar feeling; as if the concrete used that constructed this house is laced with memories from the past. The memories all flooded back like tides in a vast ocean, rolling back and forth as they brought back recollections of days gone by.

This was where she had grown up. The small backyard, the one with grass that had used to touch her ankles, was where she had first learned how to do a cartwheel. The bed, unchanged since she had left, felt almost ancient. She remembered the time she had faked a headache to skip school and had spent the whole day in it; back then the bed had felt like the only place she had wanted to live in. 

This was where she fell in love. So much in love, that she could not seem to pinpoint the exact moment she had ever fallen out of it. Maybe she never did. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore, at least.

The room’s walls are bare, and the old, washed-out wall once covered with posters of her favourite rock bands, no longer stands amongst the antique wallpaper. But his pictures were there. Their pictures. It seemed as though they were taunting her as it was propped up on the small table beside her bed. She picked one of them up, one that had stood out to her the most, and gazed at it.

She grew up without wealth. That was clear from the photo, where her top was much too big for her. Maybe it was her father’s; she can’t remember. But that hadn’t mattered to him. He had his arms around her shoulders and a smile on his lips akin to those she’d seen of him on posters and TV screens. She missed when he’d shown it just for her to see.

I’ve got a stack of mail and a tall can.It’s a shower beer, it’s a payment plan.

She tries to remember the moment or event that had taken place where they had taken the picture. And she almost forgets. It caused her to quickly put the picture back down, and a loud thud resonated between the calm sounds of home.

How could she forget? She felt like she was losing too much of herself. The part of herself that had lived here, one that had loved so freely and so openly, was slipping away so incredibly quickly—and suddenly she understood why her mother had cried when she chose a university so far off. She had almost forgotten a part of herself—a version of herself, that she seemed to have missed the most.

She sits down on the edge of the bed, still close to the picture she had put back down, only to look at it again, this time from afar. 

Of course, she remembers this moment. It had been her birthday, and he had taunted her mercilessly, telling her how she was just as old and frail as he was since she had always made fun of him for having his birthday at the start of the year and hers so close to the end. This may have contributed to the small roll of her eyes in the photo, but she was unable to control the grin that had painted itself on her lips. She can’t remember the last time she’d been so happy. Joking about being so incredibly old while being so young. She’d have given everything to be seventeen again if it meant being seventeen with him. 

Behind the picture, she had been staring at, was another one. And this time, she didn’t forget because, try as she might, she couldn’t.

She can’t seem to let go of the memory of the first time he kissed her, after a gig, a small one that he held with his mates at a pub not that far from here. She remembers how his skin was alight with adrenaline, and his gaze piercing. She couldn’t forget the moment when he told her that she had always been the one he loved not long after the picture, somewhere outside the pub, where the crisp chilly November breeze did not win against his palm that rested against her cheek.

Not long after, when he had brought her back to his, when he had kissed her silly. When she had realized that she really loved him too, and when the realization had hit her so hard, she had to loop her arms around his neck to keep herself upright, when there was only quiet in the house and all that could be heard was her gentle laughter and his sweet nothings, he had whispered in her ear so quietly, almost as if it were a secret, I would have been content to love you from a distance.

There, they were eighteen, fresh out of school and without the slightest idea where they’d go next. She had occasionally pondered what would have happened if they had more time, if they hadn’t both been so foolish, or, if they had both recognized how much it was they felt for one another sooner. But doing so would have made the parting even more painful than it already was. That was something she didn’t like to imagine.

She sighs and leaves the room. She needed to breathe.

Do you feel ashamed, When you hear my name?

ADMITTEDLY, REMUS DIDN'T think he’d ever come back. To Wales, yes, of course, it was his country (now more than ever). But not to this house. Not to her house. He couldn’t ever think straight, not when he knew that she was out there somewhere forgetting every minute detail about their past, and not when the love she’d once felt for him had long gone. But here he stands. 

He’s overthinking this. She probably isn’t even home.

She’s always told him when they were young that she wanted to leave.

One day, she had whispered to him in the darkness, when they were six, her favourite stuffed animal tightly tucked between her arms, one day, we’ll be far away. Remus can’t remember whatever caused her to tell him this at such a young age, with such strong conviction. He thinks it was probably something silly—a classmate’s admonition that some activities were simply reserved for boys. Or maybe it was because her parents had refused to let her get ice cream after she’d finished all of her green vegetables (all that suffering for nothing, really). But the mindset had continued to stick in her mind; an ember of determination that refused to fade away.

One day, she says again, when she’s thirteen because her teacher had failed her in her first ever physics exam, one day this won’t matter. I’ll go. I’ll leave. She had said it so firmly and so surely that it scares him sometimes. Because, really, they’ve never been anywhere but here—so sometimes, he asks his mirror, pretending that she’s staring back at him: What if it’s just the same? What if it’s just as bad?

One day, she says again, when she’s seventeen because she has been looking at universities far off and away from Wales. He’d watch her as she’d stare at the campus pictures on the brochures their school had offered and study the student’s bright wide smiles, and sometimes, he wondered if she ever pictures herself in those hallways, with a group of new friends—she’d be the smart one, the witty one. Sometimes, Remus wondered if she ever pictured him with her as she told him with the biggest smile on her face: One day, I’ll be there. Anytime soon.

She’s never liked it here. That much was always clear to Remus. Her books were the sole bright spot in her otherwise (as she put it) bleak existence. Always arranged in a way that only she could fully understand within the small bookshelf she had bought for herself with her first paycheck when she was saving up for Uni. Often, he wondered if she had brought them with her when she had left or whether she had left them here. No longer feeling the drag of her fingertips against its words. Abandoned by its only reader. 

And for a while, he had thought that he’d given her another reason to love the place they’d always called home. But he left her. So why, then, would she ever choose to stay? Books could only last for so long.

Just knock, he curses to himself. Say hello to her parents. Tell them that you wanted to see how they were doing. 

And just when he’s about to finally get it over with, the door opens.

And she’s there.

She looks different. Hair cut short and brushed neatly. Her clothes fit her nicely. It feels kind of jarring. He doesn’t really know what to expect. He’d been half-expecting to see the girl who had her hair always tied up in a ponytail that didn’t do much, with the amount of hair that was always falling out of it or the girl who wore oversized band shirts that belonged to her father, along with the sneakers she’d been using ever since her feet had stopped growing—the girl who was so full of life it felt nearly impossible not to love her. It was silly, really. Of course, she’d changed. It’s been four years. 

“Remus?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowing, “What’re you doing here?”

He opens his mouth and closes it again. What was he doing here?

“I’m—” he starts but pauses for a while to come up with an answer, “I didn’t know you still lived here.”

“I don’t,” she says, plainly.

“Oh.” he breathes, she’s always been forward, “Well, I’m here for holiday.”

“Yeah . . . yeah me too.”

He rocks on the heels of his foot back and forth, “I just— wanted to know how your parents are doing.”

She purses her lips, “Oh. Well, Dad’s doing alright, I bought him a bunch of LPs—some of them yours, actually. And Mum’s still trying to get used to me being back here. She’s cooked a thousand meals.”

“That’s good to know,” he nods, smiling, because sometimes, she has no idea the effect she has on people. “I’m glad they’re alright.”

“How’ve you been?” she inquires, “Heard you’re not doing too bad in your band thing.”

He laughs softly, “It’s been alright.”

She smiles, for the first time he’s talked to her, and shakes her head softly, “Modest as always. Send the lads my love.”

“I missed you,” he tells her. And it spills from his tongue so quickly, before he could even think about it. She needed to know, somehow, that he couldn’t shake her off his mind. He played for her, wrote for her and of her. And sometimes, when he woke up in the middle of the night he swears he could feel her shadow brush his hand, he hoped and prayed to whatever God that was making him feel so incredibly homesick, that she’d been listening to the songs he’d written.

He could only hope that she’d understand the undertone of his words.

She looks at him with this look that seems to pierce through time, reaching back into the past, unwanting to let go. Then, there was this beat of silence; one long enough for him to hear everything that had been left unsaid.

She looks at him, her honey-laced lips slightly parted. “Do you want to come in?” She sounds hesitant as she steps aside, letting him through.

He nods as he follows her in.

The house felt achingly familiar, yet everything felt and seemed different. The walls were the same colour, and the couch that had always looked somewhat old still stood in the exact same place it had four years ago, with new cushions adorning it. The air felt thicker. She always had that effect on him, he supposes.

“Tea?” she offers, a smile playing on her lips, as she leads him into the kitchen.

“Always,” he replies, trying to keep his voice steady.

She turns her back to him to make tea and he feels like he’s missing her all over again. He’s watching her move, taking the tea kettle and suddenly he’s sixteen again, when he’d brought James, Sirius and Pete here because they’d had run into trouble with the police—well, admittedly, it was just James and Sirius, but the four boys had never failed to stick together—and the first thing she’d asked them when she saw all four of them at her doorstep late at night is if they’d like some tea.

“How long are you staying?” she asks, back still turned. “A few weeks,” he says, “Got a bit of a break before the next tour.”

When she handed him a cup, he noticed how even her arms and the tips of her fingers had changed. She looks good, beautiful. 

“So, how’s life been?” she asks, taking a sip.

“Busy,” he replies, “Touring, recording, writing. It’s a lot, but it’s what I love.”

“I’ve been listening to your music,” she admits when he sips her tea. It’s exactly how he likes it. “It’s good, Remus. Really good.”

Remus looks down at his shoes, “Thank you,” then, “I’m sorry.”

She frowns, “What for?” “For leaving,” his voice, barely a whisper, “for everything.”

“Oh, Remus,” she sighs as she puts her cup down on the kitchen counter, “no, you had to go. It was your dream—I mean, look at you. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ve missed you,” he says again. Because she had smiled at him the same way she did all those years ago in that pub.

And this time, she says it back.

They spent the rest of the day talking and, at times reminiscing, catching up on their lives, and it felt like no time had passed, like they were the same two kids who had believed in forever. As the sky turned dark, and the light from the lamp in the living room spilt against the floors of her house, she had looked at him—that same look she had always given him five, six years ago before asked him, quietly:

“Will you stay?”

Remus smiles, his heart full, “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Anyway, don’t be a stranger

likes and reblogs r appriciated! <3 also i just learned what a taglist is,, so lmk if u wanna be included in my remus one :D

[andraxicated]

Intimacy in all its forms

Pairings: ayato, heizou, albedo, kaeya, childe, scaramouche x f! reader

tags: fluff | highschool au! (currently reading seasons of blossom and i'm not okay)

a/n: this will probably be one of my last writings here before i'm once again swept up in school. this will be 3 parts with other characs!

taken from prompts here

pt. 2

Ayato | The intimacy of someone falling asleep next to you. On your shoulder. In your company.

—he was oh so capable. everyone admired and trusted him, he was all smiles to them and they'd worship the ground he walked on. he was good at everything; academics and athletics, student government positions, and work that seemed too much for one person. he handled it all like some kind of superman and you hated it so much. you hated how ayato promised he'd change his attitude when you're dating and he broke it—seeing him still handling paperwork when the sun was starting to set and the school was about to be empty.

"are you done?" you ask, leaning against the door to be met with his sorry eyes and words. "sorry (y/n), i'm about to be finished soon, you can go now if you want." what kind of question was that? of course, you'd stay with him.

you pull out a nearby chair and sat next to him, leaning closer and resting your head on his shoulder. "I can't have my afternoon nap because of you" you mutter before closing your eyes, hearing his hushed apologies that you inwardly groan to. and when you wake up, both of you go together in the darkened hallways hand-in-hand, passing by empty classrooms that you refuse to look at and ayato chuckles while glancing at you.

he doesn't call for a car ride when he's staying late, in fear of inconveniencing the family drivers but you tell him he's the only one who'd be inconvenienced commuting at a rush hour.

"how could I be inconvenienced when you're with me?" he says before yawning, a sign that he was about to succumb to exhaustion, and soon you feel a weight on your shoulder to see his blue hair nuzzling your face. ayato fell asleep on your shoulder as you held his hand, smoothing his knuckles over.

it was far from an uncomfortable silence. to have him resting on your shoulder, in your company, laying his guard down, and being vulnerable around you is enough to make your heart melt. you remember feeling something press against your head earlier when you were asleep on his shoulder, it felt like a kiss. and you know you'd always return the favor so you lean down a bit and kiss the top of his head, careful not to disturb him in this short slumber.

"take it easy sometimes, will you?" you whisper.

Heizou | The intimacy of “How did you know that?” “Because I know you.”

—you learned from the very start that heizou was a deductive person. it's like he knew everything as he was very quick to pick up on things. he even notices random stuff that you don't even know about. and all these little things he points out pile up and makes your heart flutter. you seriously think you're catching feelings and you hope this was one thing heizou won't know.

"you have something on your mind? you've been zoning out since earlier like your soul had flown out." he asks and you brush it off by saying you're just stressed from doing schoolwork. heizou won't pry if you don't want to tell him so instead...he's going to be the one to tell you something that's been weighing heavily on his mind.

it was just a peaceful day hanging out with him until he blurts out a confession out of the blue. "I like you (y/n)" he says and you're staring at him unbelievably with your eyes wide and mouth parted. he continues, "and I know that you like me too...at least from what I observed. turn me down if I'm wrong-"

"wait. how did you know that?" you cut him off. and you weren't even obvious with your crush from what you think. does he really know you that well to let you face your feelings for him?

"because i know you"

it had been bold of him to take that leap of faith to you. because there was that slight chance that he was just assuming and you only saw him as a friend. but his risk paid off knowing you all these years, staying by your side, and watching you fall for other people. for the first time, he chose to trust his guts rather than his mind. and it was rewarding to see you smile and hear your answer to his confession.

"once again you're right. i like you too, heizou"

Albedo | The intimacy of seeing someone’s unfocused eyes when they first wake up

—your eyes flutter open and the first thing you see is long lashes and striking tufts of blonde hair. you're curled up against the bed, a safe distance from this warm body and you haven't processed the information yet that your "classmate" is still here and you slept in the same bed together.

your parents are coming home today by the way.

you mutter a curse, soon realizing that the wet streets have dried and albedo is still here. oh my god. albedo! you wanted to scream but he looked so peaceful sleeping, you thought it would be a crime to wake him. but from your stirring and panic, you stop for a bit just to see his eyes flutter open, staring at the ceiling for a moment, revealing a lovely color of teal that soon moved to stare at you.

"good morning" he groggily greets and you say it back meekly. oh you've been a bad bad girl. when your parents are away from vacation, you invited your boyfriend to your house for a movie and cuddles since it was rainy season. turns out, you lead him to the bed for a continued cuddle session until you fell asleep.

you both sit up at the same time and you carefully watch what he does next. albedo looks at you as you flinch in surprise. "I should go now, you said your parents are coming back today, right?" you nod and he moves to kiss your forehead, feeling the warmth of his soft lips that closed your eyes. "I should've said no but unfortunately, I realized I couldn't resist you. I'm dating a bad influence." albedo says, playing with your fingers as you shake your head while giggling.

"let's have breakfast together first. then you can go after that, we have plenty of time." you whisper, kissing his cheek before going out of your room, feeling flushed and giddy from this intimate secret.

Kaeya | The intimacy of someone saying "Text me when you're home safe."

—"you don't have to do this", you shake your head looking up at him yet he gives you an easy smile in return. "this is the least I could do as your suitor." he insisted to wait with you at the stop until your transportation arrives. kaeya always made you feel safe and assured, he was constantly looking out for you. and before you go, he held your arm and said "Text me when you're home safe." so when you arrive, you let down your bag and pull out your phone to text kaeya.

"I'm home now! how about you?" you waited for a few minutes, growing worried until you see him typing a message that read, "home too. it's raining these days and it's going to be hard to commute. do you want me to give you a ride home starting tomorrow?"

you type in, feeling embarrassed yet he beat you to it saying "it's only for the rainy days. i hate seeing you squeezing against other commuters too."

yet he didn't say you'd see his brother too in the front seat with kaeya enthusiastically tapping the passenger seat at the back for you to sit in. it was very awkward in the car, proceeding to kaeya's smooth words that his brother lets out a groan every few minutes or so. you know it was his way of letting his brother know that he actually has a girl with him.

"hi can you please drop me off just around the corner? it will be fine thank you." you spoke to the driver with a smile and kaeya was confused as to why you wanted to be dropped off there.

"are you hiding something from me? a secret boyfriend coming over?" he teases yet he was quite nervous for the reason. you laugh it off, pushing him playfully before easing his worries.

"my parents still don't know about you, right? let's avoid any confrontations for now, I just don't want to be teased by my family that's all." you held his hand, giving it a little squeeze to see him break out in a small smile. "i'm not hiding something i swear! i'm serious about you. i like you kaeya!" if someone, even your neighbors saw this sleek black car parking in front and you coming out of it, it will certainly be the topic of gossip. you just wanted to avoid that.

"i know. i like you too. but was that your answer—" "ehem, (y/n) here we are. stay safe." diluc cuts him off with a cough, announcing your location and you pull away much to kaeya's dismay. you give him your brightest smile before shyly waving, thanking the brothers and the driver then got out of the car, walking to your house, knowing they're still there parked and watching you go in.

kaeya's phone beeps, a notification of your message saying, "I'm home! Thank you for the ride♡"

Childe | The intimacy of instantly recognising someone’s handwriting

—a piece of paper had found itself bouncing on your desk, all crumpled and white. you open it, not taking a glance at whoever behind you had thrown that but as soon as you open it you already know who it came from.

it was very evident from the handwriting, nice and clean but in terms of penmanship against other people you know, this person was on the middle tier. it was not something that gets someone to say "wow, your handwriting's good!" yet you loved seeing it anyway.

and you know he could see the corner of your lips rise from his view, it made him mirror the grin you so subtly hide in fear of being called out. you take a glance at the teacher before writing on the piece of paper.

replying to the message written, "Let's have lunch together :(( I miss you"

you write in, "Okay! And I missed you too even though we literally talked 10 minutes ago", you crumpled it back and threw the paper without looking, hoping ajax could somehow catch it.

have some faith in your boyfriend, would you? he's not part of the athletes if he's not that agile at catching. he secretly opens it and fails to hold back his chuckle that drew question marks above everybody's heads.

Scaramouche | The intimacy of answering the phone "Hey you."

—the phone rang, the door locked, and his heart fast as he was nervous about talking to you. pacing around, running a scenario of what would happen once you answered the phone.

scaramouche doesn't wait yet he finds himself wishing you'd pick up. but ultimately the tone ended without being answered and he was left with his screen showing a failed call.

he sighed, wanting to retire for the night until his phone rang once again with your name on it. he dives onto the bed to get ahold of the device and picks it up, speaking first as he always gets the first word.

"hey you"

"What's up?" he hated your dry reply. "What took you so long to pick up?" he wanted to know what kept you busy, didn't he tell you to always answer your phone when he calls?

"I took a shower and cleaned myself up. I'm literally in a towel. Why did you call?"

he didn't mean to do it but he immediately created a mental image of you freshly out of the shower with your hair wet and wearing a towel. the tip of his ears turned hot and he struggled to speak until you laughed over the phone and reminded him of what he was to you.

"hey boyfriend. you shouldn't be thinking of anything funny—"

"I wasn't!" he acted like a provoked cat as his shout tore that his mom shouted back asking who he was fighting. he was certainly fighting you and your schemes to get him all flustered, it worked though. and scara never changed, even after everything he always had the first word in calls. a "hey you" laced with unconcealed affection and a cheeky grin that follows.

[robin-the-enby]

Hello ! Could you do an gomez x fem reader x morticia where you meet them when you pick up your sister to school and they get really taken by you and start invinting you to things and you get overwelmed by the affection and tell them they are very nice but a relationship its not what you are after

I never see a reader who doesnt want a romantic relationship, it would be nice to see one who just wants a physical one

Thank you !

It has no appeal

Pairing: Gomez Addams x f!reader x Morticia Addams

Summary: After meeting the infamous Addams family, you can't help but feel drawn to them. But when you notice that the attraction is mutual, you start to worry if you can give them what they are asking for.

Warnings: female reader, queerplatonic (?) relationship, a teensy bit of angst (happy ending tho), use of (Y/N)

A/N: I have successfuly graduated high school and got into university, so I finally have time to write! However, I am still sorry it took me this long to get to this request. I was thinking while writing this and I absolutely love this dynamic, especially maybe the dynamic between the reader's sister and the Addams children, so maybe I'll do something else with this dynamic in the future :) And as an (possibly) aromantic person, I am so delighted to be able to write this piece! I took a spin on the relationship dynamic that might not be exactly in tune with your experience, so be aware of that 😅

Waiting in front of the tall building, you looked at it with melancholy. You used to go to the same building for years and now, much later, you're picking up your younger sister here. It was a strange feeling that reminded you just how fast time flies and you quickly stomped it down before it got out of hand.

You recently found a small flat in your hometown after your last...relationship...ended. You had a thing going on with a really nice person in the city you studied at, but recently they admitted that they were looking for something you simply couldn't give them and so you parted ways. And life went on.

You thought that a change of scenery would do you good and so you moved back in with your parents, just until you could find something for yourself. In exchange, you helped them around the house and ran some errands for them. But one of your favourite "chores" was picking up your younger sister from school. It felt nice, walking the same streets you grew up in and seeing the teachers that used to teach you. And, of course, the quality time spent with your sister was a great bonus.

She was a lively young girl, who in a few years would go to middle school and you remember how big of a deal that was at your age, so there was lots to talk about. You loved gossiping about her classmates and teachers and hearing about the adventures she had with her friends.

One of them stood out to you. His name was Pugsley and he was a year or two younger than your sister. Every recess they spent time together, playing and discussing very important things, which she always told you about and you gave your insight on. You also learned that Pugsley's sister was your sister's classmate. Her name was Wednesday and although your sister didn't have any problem with her, she told you that she was quite strange, and could be quite mean to Pugsley. You thought it was mighty cute, imagining your sister standing up for her friend during recess against his sister, who had the strangest game ideas from what you've heard.

You talked about it with your parents, asking if you should talk to someone, just to ensure everyone's safety, but they only looked at each other and than at you with strange uncertainty. Apparently, the children were the daughter and son of Gomez and Morticia Addams, who moved into town just when you left for uni. You vaguely remember hearing about someone moving in and you'd certainly be more curious about the newcomers if you weren't preparing for a new big chapter of your life that was colledge.

Your parents explained that the Addams family was a strange bunch, with a strange lifestyle and beliefs. But, as odd as they were, they were actually lovely people and completely harmless, although most of the other citizens avoided them, due to their interest in all the dark, gloomy and macabre things. However, they never seemed to mind the ostracism they faced. So you let it go. Your sister continued to be friends with Pugsley and talked Wednesday out of harming him on the school grounds. Most of the time, that is.

Even after you found a place of your own, you continued picking your sister up from school, because it helped your parents, who were very busy even with your help, but you also just really enjoyed it. And that's where you were now, listening quietly to the excited chatter of children around you, walking hand in hand with their parents and telling them about the day they had. You would've pondered more on the strangeness of a child's mind, but somebody crashed into you, trapping you in a tight hug.

You turned your head and ruffled your sister's hair "Hey you. Long time, no see. How was school today?" You greeted her. She looked up at you with a grin "Hi sis! You won't believe what Micah did in art class today!" You smirked "Oh really? Well, what's the tea then?" Your sister mimicked your expression and was about to speak, when her eyes focused on something behind you. Suddenly, her whole face lit up and she raised her hand to wave it enthusiastically. Turning your head to see who your sister was waving at, you saw a young boy who was just reciprocating your sister's gesture. You didn't know most of your sister's friends personally, but seeing the slightly taller girl standing next to him with her arms folded and a slight frown on her face, you had a hunch of who it could be.

You didn't quite hear your sister's confirming exclamation that the boy was, indeed, Pugsley Addams, because your eyes locked with the two people standing proudly behind the two children. The women, presumably Morticia Addams, was tall and slender, with a visage similar to that of a ghoul, pale skin, raven black hair that shone in the sun and black clothes that, in contrast, seemed to swallow all the light that fell upon it. Her lips were painted a deep red colour and her eyes were just as dark as the rest of her, making it impossible to tell their colour. And yet, she had an almost...angelic aura around her. Like the forbidden fruit, looking perfect on the outside, all beautiful and evoking the feeling of security and peace. But, and you couldn't quite explain why, even if you tried, you felt that underneath it all, was a great power, that you almost feared to uncover. Maybe it was the way she was looking at you. There wasn't anything...malicious or hostile in her gaze. Just something...magical. Wise. As if she knew a lot more than you. And you found yourself believing it.

Blinking a few times, you managed to break the intense eye contact with Morticia and looked at her husband, Gomez. He was shorter and quite the contrast to his wife. Where she was calm and collected, he seemed to vibrate with energy, even while standing still. He, too, was looking at you, but in his eyes, was just a spark, as if he was inviting you to come over and talk. He seemed to be enjoying himself so much and yet, he was just picking up his children from school. His appearance and mannerisms were energizing and uplifting.

And suddenly you saw your sister skipping over to the strange family, running straight towards Pugsley. Your eyes widened and you rushed after her. As she threw her arms around Pugsley, blabbering about something excitedly, you placed your hands on her shoulders. Throwing a short, apologetic look towards Mr. and Mrs. Addams, you gently reprimanded your sister "You can't just run off like that, without permission or letting me know at least..."

Your sister looks up at you, a sad, guilty look in her eyes. With a face like that, you can't really stay mad at her. "I know you were excited to see your friend, but you can't just run off like that. If something happened to you, I wouldn't know where you are." you explain to her as you pet her hair softly. She smiles with appreciation before nodding and apologising. You reciprocate her smile before turning your attention to the family that was watching your interaction silently, but with interest.

"I'm sorry for my little sister, she can be excitable around her friends, she doesn't mean to be rude." you excuse your sister, but Mr. Addams just waves his hand "Oh nonsense! We know from Pugsley here that your sister is a good friend of his, and any friend of his is welcom with us anytime." he smiles energetically and you can't deny that his smile is rather attractive. Right after that thought you remember his wife is standing right next to him, but before you can start to feel bad, you notice the warm look on her face as she looks at you, still with that...knowing look on her face.

You smile at Mr. Addams "Well, I'm glad we haven't caused any trouble. I'm (Y/N) by the way. It's nice to meet you...mister Addams, right?" you introduce yourself. Mr. Addams takes your hand, giving it a firm handshake, although you can't help but feel he is holding your hand just a tad longer than is appropriate. "Oh please, drop the formalities. Since our children seem to be good friends, we might as well be too, if you'd like. The name's Gomez."

You wonder briefly if Gomez's wife is as enthusiastic about the proposition as he is, but when you turn your gaze to her, she is already reaching for your hand, holding it gently, but confidently in her own. She gives you a charming smile and when she speaks, it's as if a siren is calling out to you, a helpless sailor on the wide, wide sea "I think my husband is right. My name is Moricia. This is our daughter Wednesday," she gestures to the infamous girl, who is still sporting a very neutral expression, although she seems to be staring straight into your soul, as if assessing you, before giving a slight nod "and this is Pugsley, as you may know." The boy smiles warmly at you, giving you a polite greeting.

"Well, it was very nice to meet you all, but I'm afraid we have to go, otherwise our mother will be worried about what happened to us." you chuckle and smile at the couple. They seem like wonderful people, you can't understand why anyone would have anything against them. "As a mother myself, I can completely understand that." Morticia smiles "And we would not want to keep you any longer. But I was thinking, would you like to come over for a visit? The children will surely have fun together and we would be delighted to get to know you better. We've heard you recently moved back here?" as she says this, she grabs ahold of Gomez's hand as they both smile. You feel the intensity in their gaze, and et there is no pressure that would force you to agree. You look down at your sister, who looks at you with pleading, hopeful eyes and mouths the word "please", before you turn your gaze back to the couple and grin "Yes, that's right. And that sounds amazing!"

You exchange numbers and go your seperate ways. You register, out of the corner of your eye, them getting into a fancy looking, oldfashioned car, apparently with a personal driver. You don't think much of it and continue to walk home with your sister, who was excitedly skipping along the sidewalk, asking about when you were going to call them the entire way.

It didn't take long for the date of the visit to be set. Morticia called the next afternoon and you agreed to come over with your little sister at the end of the week, so that your sister wouldn't have to rush home and prepare for school.

Once the day came, you were actually pretty nervous, although you didn't really understand why. You blamed it on the fact that you're going to a stranger's home and you wanted to make a good impression. Because it definitely wasn't the fact that you were attracted to a married couple. Yeah, as if.

When you the big house the Addams' lived in, you had to say you were impressed. Sure, it was...unorthodox, but it had a strange charm. And when you were invited inside by a rather tall man, who, although his skin was almost gray and his expression somewhat...dead, seemed pretty nice, you almost felt...homey. The atmosphere of the home, paired with the type of people that lived there, was actually cozy. Gomez gave your sister directions to where she can find Pugsley and Wednesday and she promptly ran off, leaving you alone with the couple.

When she was out of sight, the man took your hand delicately and placed a simple kiss on your knuckles. A simple gesture, that was made much more sensual by the way he looked at you from below, his eyes glinting with...admiration, you would say, if it didn't seem so wrong. Still, you smiled politely and tried to think nothing of it. But you made a mental note to stop these kinds of actions if they would appear, thinking of his unfortunate wife.

Morticia was in the living room, sitting by a grand fireplace, reading a book. You didn't recognize it, but when you asked, it was revealed that the book was in French. You felt...uplifited, being in the presence of such stylish and intelligent people, that weren't snobbish, like you've encountered in the past.

They sat you down across from them on a small sofa and asked if you'd like anything to drink, or perhaps to eat. You declined the food, but you couldn't resist a nice drink to complement the lovely afternoon. The pair sat on another sofa across the small, seemingly old conference table, slightly turned towards each other, hands intertwined. But their sight was only on you. Both of them watching you intently, but their faces were gentle and their smiles welcoming. A thought crossed your mind. Maybe Morticia wasn't an unfortunate wife with a philanderer husband. And when Gomez started passionately retelling a story from his quite adventorous past, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. You wanted to listen, you really did, but his passionate movements, his grin, the lively glint in his eyes...And the way Morticia was listening to him, posed and collected as always, but oh so devoted to her husband, body, mind and soul, her gaze so tender...They looked so beautiful. A forbidden fruit that you could never experience the taste of.

"(Y/N), are you alright?"

You snapped out of your thoughts and you saw the pair look at you, their faces showing concern, a little bit of curiosity and perhaps a hint of slight disappointment. You shook your head, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. "Oh, yes, I'm fine." you reassured them quickly "I am so sorry, my mind just...slipped. I promise I wanted to pay attention, you have a lovely way of telling stories, Gomez." you said, still not really used to being on first name basis on them in such a short while.

Lucky for you, they seemed to not take it personally. Morticia assured you that sometimes, the mind does what it wants and drifts where the body can't. In no time, you all finished your drinks and as Morticia went to put them in the kitchen, you stood up and offered to wash the dishes in return. She seemed hesitant, but you told her firmly you weren't going to take no for an answer and a smug smile bloomed on her face. When you looked back on it, she must've seen something in that action that drew her to you just as much as you were drawn to her.

You stood in the kitchen, side by side, you with your hands in the sink, scrubbing glasses and the woman of the house next to you, with a dish towel in her hand, drying and putting away different utensils you cleaned. You agreed to do all the dishes, since you were already at it. Once you were done, Morticia did something you didn't expect. Instead of vocalising her gratitude, she leaned towards you, placing one hand on your arm, and pressed a delicate kiss on your cheek. You were left wide eyed at the kitchen sink, the sponge still in your hand. She handed you another towel, and you dried your hands, noticin Gomez, who was stood leaning on the entry to the kitchen, smiling as smugly as his wife. So that's how it is...you thought.

You went to check up on your sister, who was playing a pretty suspicious game with the siblings, but she seemed unhurt and happy, so you let it go, gently reminding her to stay safe and not do anything she doesn't want to. Then yu spent the rest of the afternoon chatting nd getting to know the unsusual pair. You also met the other inhabitants of the house - Gomez's brother, Fester, Lurch, the man who opened the door for you, the grandmother (you didn't know her name, or if she even was related to the family, but she was very sweet) and lastly...Thing. You couldn't deny you were a little put off by a sentient severed hand, but you calmed down when he offered you one of his fingers to shake. Despite the strangeness, they were all so polite and lovely and fun to be around. But, you had to go home in the evening.

After that, your sister started to come over the Addams' household more and more often. And every time, you accompanied her, of course. While her days were spent having all kinds of adventures with Pugsley and Wednesday, yours were spent calmly with the parents. Gardening with Morticia, listening to Gomez and running little rerrands with him or simply reading in the living room, all the while flirting, first subtly, but the more time you spent together the more...serious it was.

You were now sure that there is a mutual attraction going on and that there wasn't anyone who was unaware or not consenting. It felt...nice, for a while. Slowly starting over, getting close to someone again. But you were beginning to feel afraid of what was to come. You tried to enjoy everything while it lasted, before they inevitably approached you with the proposition of becoming more than just friends. You were afraid of hurting them, and yourself, just like last time. But at the same time, you couldn't make yourself pull away from the affection.

It was on a fateful Tuesday night. The Addams' planned a sleepover for your sister, which obviously meant you would come as well. Somehow, you knew this was going to be the fateful night, the moment you were dreading for a long time now. And it seemed that time wasn't on your side either. Time spent with Morticia and Gomez always seemed to fly right past you.

They had prepared a big dinner, that, although it looked questionable, tasted amazing. Paired with a nice drink, you put the children to bed and soon you were relaxing on an elegant sofa, you in the middle, the pair surrounding you from both sides. Your shoulders were touching and even though you knew what was going to happen, that you would maybe never se them again, the places where your skin touched theirs felt electric, sending shivers down your spine.

Of course they took notice. They were both so intune with your emotions and body language, it was amazing and dreadful at the same time. Gomez placed an arm behind your shoulders, Morticia placing her hand softly on your thigh, both rubbing soothing circles.

"(Y/N)..." Morticia started. "Our dear (Y/N)..." murmured Gomez, his head leaning closer to your shoulder. "You know you are an amazing person, dear?" Morticia asked, and you looked at her, not finding words to respond. She must've seen the turmoil in your eyes, because she smiled reassuringly. "I believe you are very smart, our darling." she continued "And that you can see that...we like you." "Oh, I think like is not even close to how we feel about you, corazón." Gomez said, placing a kiss on your shoulder, making you gasp. Morticia sent him a look "Gomez, behave yourself. We need to talk this out first and foremost. And I believe our trésor has something important to say." She looked at you just a intently as always and yet so tenderly, like only Morticia can. Your heart was beating out of your chest, your hands clammy as they clutched at your clothes. You took a deep breath. Now or never.

"Yes, I've noticed you have feelings for me. And everything you've done for me, and my sister, and everything you continue doing, I appreciate it. You don't even know how." you start, wanting them to know you care about them, just..differently. "But, I'm afraid, I cannot give you what you deserve. I'm sorry to tell you that...I'm not interested in a romantical relationship." And the truth was out. There was no return. Yet, you had to continue. "I...I care for you, and your family. You are amazing people and together, you both are so beautiful, it's almost ethereal sometimes..." you chuckle "Whenever you touch me, I feel as if my very soul was on fire. But...romance is not something I can give you." you finish and study their faces intently.

For once, the pair isn't smiling. You almost start to take it as a bad sign, an omen of a near end. But, Morticia looks up from your face to her husband and after some silent conversation between them, they nod at each other, once. Only once and they know exactly what the other wants, what they're thinking. Oh how you admire them, you think, as a small ember of hope still prevails inside your chest.

"Cariño..." Gomez takes your hands in his, stealing your attention. His eyes are soft and his face adorned by a sympathetic smile. "Don't apologise. There is nothing to apologise for. Some things we cannot help. And while you will belong to us, body and soul, we won't ask of you to return anything you don't feel you have. If you'll agree to that, that is." he smiles at you and nods and you actually feel like you might shed a few tears, happiness and relief washing over you and blooming in your chest with such force you think you might burst.

You feel hands on your shoulders and Morticia lays her head on your shoulder "What do you say, notre cœur?" And you laugh. You laugh happily, your eyes glinting. Instead of saying anything, you take your hands from Gomez and turn to Morticia. And cradling her face softly, you seal your answer with her lips. And then Gomez's. And then you seal it again, and again, and again.

[lizthewriter]

LIZ I LOVED UR EXILE FIC SO MUCH!! CAN U DO A SIMILAR ONE THATS A PT 2 IN THEIR RELATION SHIP CALLED KARMA AND ITS HOW SHE GOT HAPPIER?

A/N: your wish is my command 😌😌 but thank you so much hehe

karma / mattheo riddle

PAIRING Mattheo Riddle x Reader

SUMMARY  You and Mattheo have been dating for two months now and your life has taken a turn for the better. You thank him.

TAGS  Mattheo Riddle x reader, fluff, cuddling, kisses, mattheo is a good bf, gender neutral reader

"Ask me what I learned from all those years, / ask me what I earned from all those tears, / ask me why so many fade but I'm still here," - Karma, Taylor Swift

WORD COUNT  1.2K

WRITTEN  26.08.2023

pt. 1 here, exile

Dating Mattheo Riddle was not what you had expected - over the course of two months, your life had improved dramatically. You were like a puzzle Mattheo had solved - before you met him, your pieces were all broken apart, but he had somehow managed to put them back together. He made you happier, and when you were happier, you tended to do better in your courses. You had also made friends - he had introduced you to his as soon as he could. Theodore was still quite silent around you, but you could tell he didn't nesscessarily dislike you. Sometimes, he sat down across from you in the library and you studied together in silence. It was far better than studying alone, that's for sure. And Blaise - Blaise and you had connected quickly. Before you knew it, you, Mattheo, and Blaise were hanging out together almost everyday. In the Slytherin common room, on the grounds, in random classrooms even.

However, you had grown quite unpopular with a certain . . . group of people at school. Namely girls. A lot of girls. The day after you and Mattheo kissed, you had walked into the Great Hall together. Mattheo's arm wrapped around your waist, his head leaned into your ear mumbling some joke that made you laugh boisterously. No doubt eyes were drawn to you and jaws dropped. Only days ago, no one even knew you that well. Let alone Riddle. Yet here you were, entangled in his arms, being led to the Slytherin table for breakfast. So you had made quite a few enemies as well as friends, but if you were being entirely honest . . . you didn't even care that much.

Being with Mattheo was like a blessing. He was constantly showering you with affection. Whether it be subtle touches, murmured words of affection, or more . . . unspeakable things. Despite the fact that he was by your side every moment of the day (which came in handy when he could death stare any potential annoyances away), you actually quite enjoyed how often you were in each other's proximity. You were in most of the same classes already as well as the same year. And currently, you were seated next to each other in History of Magic. Professor Binns, of course, was droning on about the elf revolution and you, of course, were nudging Mattheo awake with a silent chuckle.

He gave you a playful shove, letting his head fall back onto your shared desk, his arms covering his face. "Let me sleep," Mattheo mumbled, his voice muffled.

"Theo, don't you want to pay attention?"

"I have an E in this class anyways."

You rolled your eyes with a grin, turning back to listen to Binns, no matter how much you'd like to lay on your desk to fall asleep too. When class was over, Blaise made his way over to you two, Theodore hovering behind him with his nose down a book. Blaise whacked Mattheo over the head with a roll of parchment, enough that it would startle him awake, but not exactly enough to hurt him.

Mattheo groaned, shoving Blaise away too.

"Come on, you twat, class is over."

Mattheo let out a grumble, pushing himself out of his chair and grabbing his bag. "We don't have any more classes, right?"

"Nope. Theo and I are headed down to the pitch, you two want to come?"

Mattheo shook his head no, which wasn't really surprising. He wasn't really into Quidditch and only ever came to matches for the sake of his friends. "I'm probably going to pass out for a few hours, you guys can head on."

Blaise glanced towards you questioningly, but you shook your head. A grin grew wide on his face as Blaise clapped Mattheo's shoulder. "Pass out, huh?" he asked with a snigger.

"Ah, shove off, Zabini!"

When you entered Mattheo's dorm, you dropped your bag by the edge of his bed and flopped onto the mattress with a sigh. You were exhausted. So much work, and with NEWTs growing closer and closer, you grew more tired with the heavy workload.

Mattheo joined you, sitting up straight while he held his arm out to you. You smiled, snuggling into him and wrapping an arm around his torso. He gave you a peck on the top of your head, which was resting against his chest, petting your hair gently. It was quiet moments like this that you loved the best, moments where you were reminded that you were his and he was yours. It reminded you that what you had was real.

"Tired, huh?" He looked down in amusement at you, your eyes already shut, breathing already turned to a slow, steady rhythm. You hummed in response, entangling your legs with his, a grin spread across your face. He couldn't help but smile at your contentment. "You look so pretty like this." It was a whisper, but nowhere near suggestive - more adoring than anything. He rubbed your arm gently, pulling you in closer so that you were almost entirely sprawled atop him.

Sometimes, it was hard to believe you were with Mattheo. He was just so . . . perfect. He had his flaws, but that didn't mean you liked him any less. Sure, he may have gotten in one too many fights on your behalf, and yes, he may have tried to push you away because of his traumatic childhood, but you loved him all the same. I mean, come on, this is Mattheo you're talking about. The guy that sent you far too many deliveries of roses at breakfast, so many in fact that the entire table in front of you was drowning in luscious red petals. The guy that read all your favorite books and listened to all your favorite bands even if he didn't care much for them. The guy that declared his love for you in the middle of Transfiguration when you had been sour after a particularly nasty row. It didn't matter if he was the Dark Lord's son or if he got into far too many fights or if he got terrible marks (even though he was quite sharp).

But he reminded you that this was real and you were together in quiet moments like this. Sometimes it was when you were cuddled on a couch in the common room, huddled by the fire while your friends told stories that more often that not involved very noble efforts for very stupid causes. Or perhaps in the library, his head rested in your lap as you studied with an intense concentration, playing with some part of your clothes or maybe your hair. Oh, and those times you'd be walking hand-in-hand through Hogsmeade, waltzing into forgotten shops on street corners, making out in the oddest of places, tripping over bumps in the road as you walked to visit the Shrieking Shack together. In a way, you were grateful to him for being in your life. You wouldn't be nearly as happy as you were today without him.

"Theo?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"For what, exactly, darling?"

"For being here for me. For being here, in general."

Matthoe glanced down at you in suprise. "You have nothing to thank me for." He pressed a firm kiss to your head, then drawing you in closer so he could rest your head against yours. "I love you."

You hummed, snuggling your face into his chest. "I love you too."

Thank you all for reading! Be sure to like, reblog, and comment! I really appreciate it ^^. If you have any requests, by inbox is open but make sure to check the list of characters I write for here. If you want to be tagged in any upcoming fics/headcanons of mine, let me know. If you want to see more from me, go ahead and check out my masterlist here!

[stardustpinkart]

Lucifer transformed back into his normal form. "Sorry for scaring you. I see you've discovered singing." He mused, sitting next to him.

Adam nodded, grinning. "It's fun, I really like it. I think it sounds nice... Um- ... I'm sorry, which one are you?" Lucifer tilted his head and laughed lightly. "Lucifer. I usually stay as a snake when I enter the garden?" The man perked up. "Oh yeah! The white one! I'm Adam!"

Lucifer couldn't help but grin at the human's enthusiasm. He adored it to be honest. "Trust me, we all know who you are. How are you enjoying life so far?" "Oh, I really like it! I like learning new things about myself. So far I've learned that I like sweet things, like fruit, and soft things like those other horse things- with the.. branches.. on their heads?" "Deer?" "Yeah, deer, I like those."

The angel smiled along with Adam, just as excited as he was about his discoveries. "You wanna know what else is soft? Here, I think you'll like it." He extended one of his wings out for Adam to feel, accidentally brushing it against his side. The human jumped and covered his side, a surprised grin spreading across his face followed by a sweet sounding giggle.

Lucifer gasped and scooted closer. "You're ticklish! I didn't know we were giving that to humans! Oh this is great, you're going to have so much fun-" "What's.. What's ticklish?"

The angel grinned, excitedly. "Lift your arms a little bit, I'll show you." Adam did as he was told, lifting his arms up. Again, Lucifer extended his wings, gently brushing them against Adam's sides. The human snorted and slammed his arms down, laughing. Lucifer pulled his wings back to avoid having them stuck under Adam's arms, instead reaching out and gently digging into the sides of his tummy.

Adam shrieked and threw his head back, laughing. Not wanting to overwhelm him, Lucifer slowed to a stop, and pulled his hands back. After a moment of giggling and catching his breath, the human looked back up at the angel, sitting up and smiling.

"Can you do that again?" -------------------------------------------

Based on this cute lil fic I found on Tumblr :) Theres an abudance of Hazbin stuff at the mo, a lot of it really good!

Its nice to think how it might have been in the early days. I grew up catholic, schools and the like(though we didnet really go to church or anything) so I know a few bits. The basic stories, Adam and eve, etc. I believe Lucifer was gods most beloved angel, even had a diffrent name, untill he fell. And that supposedly it hurt him terribly when his beloved angel did.

So since Hazbin already has an alternate lore, what REALLY happened in the beggining. I'm sure Adam would be a lot more innocent to begin with, more pleasant, after all, being nearly made, exploring LIFE. The worst aspects maybe came later especially if heaven and its angels overlypraised him, "Adam could do NOTHING wrong", which led to his arrongance and rudeness and cruelty. Perhaps in the beggining, Lucifer and Adam were even friends? It was later events that changed all that.

There is NO sexual themes here, just that of COURSE, Adam and Eve were naked in the garden. They coevered themsleves in leaves in shame after eating the fruit of knowledge right?

I was stumped for colours cuz, they do seem to vary. Like, Sir pentious, his new form was a lot less scary and threatening in heaven. SO I figured, when he was still alive and just starting in the world, he would have a more mortal colour scheme yeah? As would Lucifer have a softer angelic colour scheme back then

I really enjoyed drawing this :)

[hwere]

Sydney and the winds of change.

Expanding on some thoughts of mine that I mentioned here.

Syd and Tina:

Starting with them ‘cause their friendship fills my heart with so much love and warmth.

Tina’s initial stance of animosity towards Sydney derives from the fact that not only she’s used to being the only woman in the kitchen, but the same generational fear as Richie: of being replaced by someone new, younger. When Syd arrived at The Beef, the crew viewed her as one of Carmy’s peers. While the others (Ebra, Marcus, Sweeps, etc.) seemed curious about her, Tina braced herself for the worst; she treats Sydney harshly because she believes that Syd – young and a professional chef – will either replace her or look down on her.

Sydney, though, viewed all of them as equals (except for Carmy). That is why it is so beautiful to watch Syd disarm Tina by complimenting her food and encouraging her to do better in the kitchen, instead of joining the dick-measuring competition. Syd showed Tina that there’s no need for competition; there’s room for both and they can be friends who uplift and inspire each other.

Later, we see Tina outright saying this to Ebra when he came back to the restaurant after going AWOL due to his insecurity regarding the school; passing down the lesson.

Syd and Marcus:

Their friendship has a different vibe since they’re closer in age.

Marcus feels inspired and supported by both Syd and Carmy to chase his dreams, to put himself out there, to experiment, to learn and to fail/make mistakes. Which is only possible because Syd’s goal and mindset is to provide this type of environment in the kitchen (“I think this place could be so different from all the other places we’ve been at. But, in order for that to be true, we need to run things different”).

In turn, he inspires her to be more considerate (“There was just a hat in it?”) and calm/patient (that’s the way he carries himself in general, which makes his outburst after being rejected so much worse), showing to her since The Beef that she’s no longer alone in her garage running a business all by herself, she has people to rely on now and that is fine to accept/ask for help.

Syd and Richie:

I do feel at times that he’s a bit of a misunderstood character. Of course, there’s no excuse for his actions towards Syd – that’s not even up for debate. His apology to her, as he did to Natalie, is overdue.

Like Carmy, he’s dealing with a lot: the end of his marriage and being a co-parent; the suicide of his best friend (which could be seen as some sort of betrayal, made worse by the fact that Michael left the shop to Carmy, not him); his creeping fear on being left behind, on old age and aimless existing under capitalism and all its implications (“I'm about to have this kid. I don’t wanna be wrapping up sandwiches for the rest of my life”).

He can be a massive asshole when he wants, but he’s not a bad person at his core (his strongest features are his love and loyalty). Most important: he can change. Watching him stepping up to offer Sydney help, after Carmy got stuck in the walk-in, meant a lot to me, honestly. He still has a long, long way to go, but he’s finally trying and opening himself up to learn (which doesn’t mean the road there will be clear and linear, as we glimpsed in the trailer).

It was Carmy’s idea to send him to Ever, but his growth was only possible because of Sydney’s positive influence all around them.

Syd and Carmy:

Then, there’s everything between her and Carmy. How they mirror each other at times; their parallels; yin-yang and all that jazz (I’m not about to recapitulate the entire show). The man said so himself and I couldn’t summarize better, “I couldn’t do it without you. I wouldn’t even wanna do it without you. You make me better at this.”

He wasn’t lying, though.

If Sydney never came back, of the two, one: either he wouldn’t even try to open The Bear – just use the money to improve The Beef (after all, his dream was to open a restaurant with his brother); or he would try, but for obvious reasons it wouldn’t be the same thing – with Syd around he didn’t think twice before slipping back to his old mentality and persona, imagine if she wasn’t around at all?

Carmy has spent far too many years working out of spite, chasing the approval of his brother, centering cooking as his life (something something porcupine dilemma something something the Berzatto curse). Sydney reminded him that there’s more to cooking than this (“I’d look at them like they were competition, like I’m gonna smoke this motherfucker / […] the deeper into this I went and the better I got. And the more people I cut out, the quieter my life got” vs “You love taking care of people / It is a partnership agreement, so that you can push me and I can push you”).

He gave her a second chance with The Bear and has been pushing her to be a better chef since before they met (“it was Carmy’s”) and also be more patient (both directly “Chef, it’s not ready yet” and indirectly [as in dealing with him and his bullshit]). But like Richie, he still has a lot of work to do with himself (as someone with similar mental issues: you have to put in the work to become better and you have to find healthy ways to cope with yourself and the world around you; mental illness explains some things, but doesn’t excuse them).

For their partnership to become perfect, they need balance.

And lots of love.

Sydney Adamu:

As to what makes Sydney so beautiful as a character: she’s so human and alive on our screens. She’s awkward, bit of an asshole/messy, creative and funny; eager and talented, but still harbors insecurities; isn’t afraid to speak her mind or stand her ground when necessary; although she doesn’t shy away from arguing/bickering, she’s not a conflict-driven person; her initial reaction is always to shut in, but if you know how to approach her, she’ll open up to you (as we saw so many times with Carmy); and she, overall, has such a beautiful heart (“Why can’t we put everything that we have into everything that we can?”).

As the seasons progress, we watch all those characters (both main and secondary) evolve and unravel right in front of our eyes. To me, that’s the beauty of The Bear and Sydney is right in the center of it.