#it's you are clearly bad for me but I cannot tear myself away

[karmaphone]

I can see some of y'all are deep in the colonial romance fantasies re silna 😒😒😒

[etheries1015]

A fearful Realization Pt. 2- Malleus X Reader

A continuation of This

A scenario in which you finally realize your feelings for the fae, however, the feeling doesn't leave you as elated as one may think. Perhaps it's time you came to terms with the fear of falling in love?

You slipped away from the party, excusing yourself with a quick apology to Silver as you found your way to the rooftop of Noble Bell Academy. Leaning over the edge your arms propped up on your elbows, heavy head being held by the palms of your hands. Using one arm you removed the mask to prevent the tears from ruining the fabric, wiping away with precision and avoiding any smearing of makeup you may have applied.

Staring over the beautiful stretch of the city, your eyes gazed upon the hundreds of people beneath the sun-kissed horizon as the sun slowly made its way to rest for the day. A gentle breeze blew through your hair and chilled the tears dry against your frosted cheeks. You had heard Silver run after you, clearly ignoring your desire to be left by your lonesome. So once the door to the roof opened you hadn't bothered to look back at the silver-haired boy, instead letting out a shaky and feeble chuckle through trembling lips. You didn't want anyone to see you in such a state, but as much as you wished to avoid it, there are things we as humans cannot control. Matters of the heart, for example.

"I...thought I told myself to give up on love a long time ago," You began to say, "I..." You looked down at the people walking around the city, some who were holding hands others laughing and coming together in joyous endeavors. You felt a tinge of jealousy as your heart stung with pins sticking deep within.

"I don't know why I bother, Silver," you choked out forcing a sob down your throat, "Because without fail- every single time- you somehow manage to convince yourself "His must be the personal in which I finally learn to love!" Your hands fell heavy to your side, turning away from the bustling of the city to stare in anguish at the mask in your grip. "This MUST be the right one."

"But it never is."

You sigh, finally deciding to place the mask on your face once more before looking up at the cloudless sky dusted in pink and orange.

"That's why I'm terrified. Our worlds are so different, there's no way he could possibly love me back. And even if he does, there's just...so much that can go wrong. I might still go home, and I don't want to do that to him-"

"Who, if I may ask, are you referring to?"

Your eyes widened with your heart dropping into the pit of your stomach, whipping your head around to find the source of the deep honey voice was not Silver; yet the very man you were desperately trying to avoid.

Malleus.

Your words were caught in your throat, the tears that had just stopped flowing threatened to return. In a panic you turned back around and shut your eyes tightly, hoping it was all some sort of bad dream and the Fae would magically disappear. It was inevitable though, this encounter. You would have to come to terms with your feelings to him one way or another, and this was the universes way of saying it was time.

"It's too soon," You whisper, "I can't-"

"You can," A reassuring hand placed itself upon your shoulder, urging you to look his way. When you turned to face the ethereal Fae, you had difficulty catching yourself to catch his gaze with your own. Malleus brought a gloved hand underneath your chin, using his agile fingers to tilt your gaze forcefully yet ever so gently to look into his entrancing emerald orbs.

"Am I right to assume you may be referring to...me?" You could sense a sort of hesitance in his voice, the confident man you saw singing up on stage was now standing vulnerable in front of you- and you were certain your resolve was no longer existent seeing him there under the glare of sunset. You gave a feeble nod in response to his inquiry, body trembling in terror for something you knew all to well about; rejection.

However it seemed to be the exact opposite of those deep-rooted expectations...instead, you found Malleus wrapping his arms around you, mostly to avoid showing you the un-princely blush that rested upon his pale cheeks and flustered appearance at the confirmation of your feelings. A moment of silence seemed to stretch into an infinity of uncertainty, yet was short-lived by Malleus making a rather...bold statement.

"Then I shall consider this day forward you to be my mate since I too reciprocate your feelings of affection." You shook your head in absolute bewilderment, pulling away from his chest to look him in the eyes, your mouth agape. Ah...there it was. The normal Malleus you knew- the one who was just slightly awkward and easily flustered- the one you knew not for his stoic nature and princely aura, yet his sensitive soul and animal-like silliness.

"Did you think that through?" You asked with an astonished chuckle at the rapid response the fae had given you, "I mean- first of all, I'm not from this world. Second of all, I'm a human-"

"None of that," He interrupted with a sly smile, "This is a time to rejoice, is it not? I believe we should celebrate by sharing a dance together," He smiled down at you, moving himself to grasp your hands into his.

You hesitate before deciding to drop your counterarguments, for now, the insecurities and questions can wait, you decide. Besides, everything was moving so quickly, you weren't even sure how to feel anymore. The emotions that seemed to take over your consciousness mere minutes ago were easily replaced with confusion and bewilderment, a far cry from what you had thought you would be going through when your confession came out. Malleus somehow had that effect about him, always swaying your emotions far left or far right- always knowing how to distract your mind from its own darkness, instead replacing it with something you weren't sure how to describe other than reckless abandon.

"Right now?" You responded with a breathy chuckle and raised eyebrows, "But there's no music up here...."

"I do not need music to enjoy a dance with you," He smiled, placing your hands where they needed to be for a classic ballroom-style dance, "so let's set aside your worries and simply enjoy the song of the wind and people laughing below, hmm?" With pursed lips and a deep breath, you allowed Malleus to lead the dance as you took your first step toward your new resolve.

-----

Masterlist

[tkaulitzlvr]

Can you maybe write 2010 toms reaction and hc's for the reader being pregnant?

UNEXPECTED - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you have to tell tom some unexpected news, and his reaction isn’t what you had hoped for.

content: angst

a/n: thank you so much for the request, i am so bad at head canons so i just did a fic, i hope that’s okay!!

my hands shakily clutched at the test, tears rolling down my flushed cheeks as i hoped that somehow, my eyes were deceiving me. positive, the test reads, the eight letters staring back at me, reminding me over and over that they are very real, and i can’t back out of this.

tom and i were always careful, using protection every time we had sex to stop things like this from happening. we were young and foolish, as every 21 year old is, not ready to welcome a child of our own into the world, the thought of it scaring me so much, never thinking that it would become a reality so soon. it wasn’t that we didn’t ever want kids, but tom was constantly on tour, away from home for weeks and though i always went with him, it just wouldn’t be right to take a child with us. we had always discussed starting a family, both of us coming to the mutual conclusion that now just wasn’t the right time.

which is what terrified me even more, tom’s reaction worrying me as i just couldn’t guess what it would be. he was currently at the studio with the band, and he would be home any minute now, evening dawning over us as he had no idea of the news i was about to bring to him.

i sat on the couch, the test stuffed into the back pocket of my jeans, my eyes fixed on whatever was on the tv, but my mind was elsewhere, waiting for the door to open and tom to walk through it, praying that he wouldn’t freak out. there was no time left to just hope, the door handle turning as tom steps through, baggy jacket clad to his figure, reminding me just how cold it is outside. he takes his shoes off, announcing a quick “i’m home my love”, before entering the living room, a smile appearing on his face once he sees me.

he walks towards the sofa, sitting down beside me and embracing me in a hug. my body begins to shake as i can no longer hold back the tears, tom noticing and quickly pulling away, studying my face and the sorrow etched upon it.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he replies, concerned, holding my face and kissing my forehead, attempting to wipe the tears as he awaits my response.

“you promise you won’t get mad?” i manage to let out between sobs, my words almost inaudible, yet he clearly understands what i say, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“what? why would i be mad? you can tell me anything, you know that.” he says, much more composed than i am, his heart aching to see me in this state. “now what’s wrong? please, talk to me schatz.”

my eyes meet his for the first time, bloodshot and glassy, whilst his hurriedly scan my face, the worry only increasing in his own as every second passes that i don’t confess. i can’t bring myself to say the two words “i’m pregnant”, because the second i do, it will truly become real, my mind in some twisted sort of denial, telling myself that if i don’t admit it, it will somehow go away. so, instead of saying what is wrong, i decide to show him, reaching hesitantly into my back pocket and placing the pregnancy test in his hands.

he looks downwards, finally seeing the reason why i am so upset. his body tenses up, his mouth hanging open in shock the only thing he is able to do. i cant tell if he is happy, excited, or completely angry, all i know is that he cannot believe his eyes. the tears continue to spill down my cheeks, praying that he will reassure me that everything will be okay, but the twisting feeling in my stomach provides me with the terrifying realisation that i’m not going to receive that comfort.

“please say something.” i whisper, my voice shaky as he still hasn’t moved or even looked at me, his eyes fixed on the pregnancy test in his palm of his hands.

“is this real?” he mutters, refusing to look at me, his hands trembling a little.

“it’d be a pretty fucked up joke tom.” i reply, angry at his ridiculous question but not in any position to consider causing an argument, knowing that is the last thing i need right now.

“i just- i don’t know what to say. i’m not ready for this.” he confesses, finally looking upwards as his gaze meets mine, his eyes now glazed with tears, yet he isn’t sad - i see a glare within them that cannot be mistaken for anything else but anger.

“i’m not either tom, you know this. i don’t know what to do.” i put my head in my hands, sobbing even more now, my breathing fast and irregular. my mind longs for any sort of comfort from him, even a little reassurance, a half-hearted ‘it’s gonna be okay’, even though it would be a lie, it would be the most perfect one he ever told, because it would give me a million times more consolation than i am receiving right now. but he stays silent, biting his lip, almost as if he is stopping himself from truly speaking his mind.

“i can’t do this.” he finally says, standing up and walking out of the living room, exiting the house as he closes the front door behind him with a slam.

my breathing begins to quicken, my heart rate increasing as the worst possible scenario is suddenly becoming true in front of my eyes. if me finding out that i was pregnant wasn’t enough, tom leaving only placed the cherry on my cake, a sickening sense of guilt now punching me in the gut, stabbing a knife in the wound as i begin to feel nothing but completely stupid for letting this happen, blaming it all on myself. my sobs are muffled within my hands as my head rests there, my entire body trembling as i long to be in his arms, him telling me that it would be okay, that we would get through this. instead, the cold air is my only company, leaving me in it’s icy embrace, giving me the constant reminder that i am alone.

it is this reminder that sticks with me until my eyes begin to feel heavy, my body falling into a deep sleep, providing me with a temporary distraction from reality.

warm hands. two large, warm hands are what wake me from my sleep as they caress my face gently, contrasting with the coldness of the entire house.

“love?” i hear a familiar voice whisper, finally opening my eyes to see tom kneeled beside me, his own bloodshot from crying.

“why are you here?” i ask, anger quickly filling my veins, the reminder of how quickly he left, betrayed me like it was nothing, flooding my memory.

“i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have left like that. i was just so shocked, and i backed out, and i shouldn’t have. we can talk about this, if you’re ready to.” he softly says as i sit up, moving his hands off my face.

“you left me.” i mutter, the tears already threatening to fall. “i wanted your support, and you left me. you fucking left me when i needed you most! do you know how shitty that feels? all day, i’ve felt guilty, and i find the courage to tell you and then you fucking bail on me?”

“i know and i’m so sorry my love. i didn’t expect it, i reacted in the wrong way-”

“what you think i did expect it? you think i’ve been throwing up for the past two weeks and i wanted it to happen? do you know how hard it’s been to hide my suspicions, because i didn’t want to scare you until i knew for sure, and then you run away because you didn’t expect it? the one time, the one time i fucking need you here and you leave me.” i sob, my voice breaking as i shake my head, standing up and walking away, tom quickly following me to the kitchen where i stand, my front against the counter, head in my hands.

he says nothing, but wraps his arms around my waist from behind, his thumbs running along my stomach comfortingly, lips pressing small kisses on my shoulder as i slowly begin to calm down. we both stand in silence, tom never loosening his hold on me, finally speaking up once my breathing has slowed a little.

“i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry. you didn’t deserve that at all. i promise you, i’ll never leave you like that again, not for a second.” he whispers, turning me around so that my chest is flush against his, his arms securely around my waist.

“why did you do that tom? you have no idea how scared i am.” i say, my words slightly muffled as my head is buried into his t-shirt, my arms clinging onto his neck.

“ i’m so sorry. i’m sorry.” he keeps repeating, kissing my forehead over and over between his words, never once letting go of me.

“what are we going to do?” i sigh, appreciating the fact that we have made up, but knowing that it doesn’t change the situation or make the reality any easier to swallow.

“i don’t know baby, i don’t know. but whatever you decide, i’ll be right here, always. i promise, i’ll always be here.” he affirms, and the sincerity of his voice tells me that i can believe every single one of his words.

“i love you tom.” i say, the words slipping from my mouth naturally as they are the only ones that come to mind.

“i love you too.”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[comradekatara]

i do feel kind of bad for the person who made that biggest bottles post because she was far from the only person who shipped makorra and was really pissed off, loudly, on the internet for months after the lok finale aired. i remember this due to the sheer schadenfreudic glee i used to feel scrolling through people’s rants about how makorra was supposed to be endgame and korrasami was just lazy pandering to seem progressive and wasn’t even established well, unlike makorra, who were clearly perfect for each other if you only ignored the majority of books 1, 2, 3, and 4, including their many fights, fundamental incompatibility as a couple, and their pretty final breakup at the end of book 2.

but people didn’t care about any of that as long as they finally saw the fire nation guy get the water tribe girl. i mean, admittedly, mako is like a slightly more sympathetic zuko (autistic and swagless) and korra is just a slightly more powerful katara, so if you’re into that, i can see the appeal. but at the time, i had no sympathy for makorra shippers, and assumed they all just didn’t get the obvious sublime beauty of korrasami because they were being homophobic and for no other possible reason, so i derived a lot of enjoyment through witnessing their melodramatic shippers' laments.

but we really dogpiled on this one woman in particular, huh? like, her post is a meme to people who have never even seen lok. and her greatest crime was simply liking a straight ship in a show that had never before implied that they knew what gay people are. even among korrasami fans, the percentage of people who genuinely expected it to actually happen onscreen were in the vast minority. nothing like this had ever happened before in a kids’ cartoon. it wasn’t even a decade ago, but 2014 was a vastly different time, and both avatar shows had been painfully heterosexual up until that point.

i expected makorra to happen in the finale, and resigned myself to that eventuality, despite not liking them as a couple. most of us did. so that post is such a beautiful thing specifically because it documents the excitement we all experienced upon witnessing this monumental paradigm shift wherein korrasami had suddenly happened. if you weren’t there, i cannot convey the sheer joy so many of us felt, and the bitter tears of people who really wanted heteronormativity affirmed for the millionth time only further enhanced the rich flavors of our victory soup.

but this woman had no way of knowing that korrasami would happen, and she wasn't actually being intentionally homophobic. her only real crime in this post was displaying questionable taste in ships. yes, of course, we all know that she doubled down hard on her stance after the finale, but if you were being harassed by thousands on the internet for an ultimately insubstantial reason, wouldn't you double down too?

we're only a year away from that post being a decade old. i'm sure she no longer cares about being harassed online back in 2014. but i nevertheless want to clarify something: when i look back on this post today, the joy it brings me is not the joy of schadenfreude, not any more. it is a joy of celebrating the wonder in the unexpected, the poignant affirmation in a beautiful surprise that paved the way for so many other lgbt characters in media. and whether or not she likes that this is how her post has been read over the years, i am celebrating with her, not against her. no one deserves to be subjected to such vindictive mockery for such a truly negligible reason. so i wish her all the best, the author of one of my favorite posts on the entire internet. and i am popping the BIGGEST bottles.

[blinkpen]

nother lil life update!

appointment with housing admin lady got rescheduled to tuesday, but that's not too big a deal since that is the soonest day they could officially open up that apartment for me anyway, so if the answer was going to be yes, rescheduling when i get the yes to said day, doesn't delay the move-in, except by like, maybe, one more additional day of just. going back to get/move my stuff? so i am Unbothered and maintain the same level of cautious optimism leaned optimism as before

and again my stress level is way lower now knowing there is likely a light at the end of the tunnel (hell that a tunnel even EXISTS now) and mom is, at least for now, sobered by the intervention of other adults for whom going

"ummmmm but the very existence of trans identity is a personal attack against me and my beliefs bc i believe their existence is blasphemous they stole the rainbow from christians and desecrated the noah's arc story that's why i'm so mean to [not my fucking pronoun] whenever anything remotely close to the topic of gender comes up, asking nicely to so mach as -gag noises- humor they/them is a deliberate attack on me first, and forcing the queer agenda on me, so i get to attack back with full venom unloaded and vote in favor of making queer peoples' lives more difficult if not impossible, so like, i'm the victim actually? [not my fucking pronoun] needs to stop being so entitled and unholy and learn to deal with Different Opinions and stop Undermining me"

will not fucking fly and she can't make inflict Power Word: Guilt Trip to make them crumple away the way she does to me to instantly win and make the argument stop so she is now not pushing buttons and keeping her toxicity to herself methinks bc "ah fuck, an actually benevolent authority figure nobody in town would question is looking at how much my grown but wingclipped and disabled child's mental and now physical health has deteriorated to life-threateningly poor levels and looking in my direction while Knowing details i cannot possibly spin in my favor to outside observers; the only people who'd swoop in to take my side would only make me look worse by association, though i'll probably still refuse to think about The Implications of that, so i will Be Mask On now about it if nothing else"

like she got a stark fucking reminder i think of the fact she is a mean person who publicly boasts about being mean because she thinks its funny and also equates being smart with being cynical and therefore if you're aggressively cynical you're automatically smarter than whoever you are talking to or about, and is the kind of person who literally owns a "leftist tears" coffee mug, while claiming herself a Good christian just because she didn't kick me out for being queer like the Bad christians do, but like, she can still give me shit for being queer as much as she likes and if i stand up for myself i'm an ungrateful little bitch, those are her Vibes,

and being that way, makes it hard to defend yourself as totally innocent of any wrongdoing and victim-blame someone most people in town know, by contrast, as "the borderline mute Always a Hoodie n Headphones kid who spends a lot of time just wandering around town for the heck of it and seems a bit touched in the head/lost in their own little world, but is unfailingly friendly if you do try to talk to them for whatever reason, and will sincerely ask if they could be of any assistance to anyone who enters their cone of vision who seems to be in a pickle" once they start developing what seems like a wasting illness and an aura of hopelessness they didn't have before and finally show up at the hospital looking like they're about to drop dead from what is clearly several months of physiological stress and self-neglect and they don't even have their meds handy because you locked their disabled ass out in retaliation for leaving for one single night because you wouldn't stop screaming at them about how their gender thing is blasphemous and [checks notes] eavesdropping in on them while they shower to make sure not even their anguished crying and muttering to themself even in there isn't saying anything you don't like??? what the f-

even the crusty old farmer i know who i guess probably would go "not sure i like that but whatever" about transness otherwise enters "now what makes you think that makes [not my pronoun but i forgive bc its not done Maliciously] less of a person, what makes you think that's okay" mode over that

lol, said the frog, as a human hand scoops it out of the water just in time, and places it on a nice log where it may recover from the sting, while pointing to the sinking scorpion suggesting they go to therapy instead of stinging everyone around them and going "but i'm a scorpion so that means i am not responsible for my actions and nobody is allowed to expect better of me" lmao,

okay that went from a life update to me venting a bit? but. i eared that i think, it helps keep my grounded, hoenstly.

anyway we gotta send my doc a fruit basket or somn

[ddarker-dreams]

hmmm.... i have a question. not really a question, more like rambling actually.

so we know that n darling doesnt want to get attached with blade, she mostly sees him as her fuckbuddy for a bit which i think is funny, hence she is his long term long distance low commitment gf.

but im actually curious on blade's view on this relationship. does he feel mutual about this? i mean, clearly he doesn't, but im dying to know the specifics.

does he not prod on the topic because he knows n darling would ultimately be his anyway? (based on... whatever elio's script says) or does he just... not care for any specifics and just already considers her his gf without said gf even knowing 😭😭 actually both theories sound more or less similar.

im so excited for ch 5, ive been rereading nexus over and over again lol (and of course... ch 3 and 4 has the most reads for certain reasons im sure you know)

me thinking of a way to respond without accidentally delving into spoiler territory GJKJDF

i will say that the answer to this question is different pre and post chapter 4. i can come back and give the latter after chapter five is posted.

OKAY, so. initial impression (after saving n darling from alister's knife attack in ch1), was... nothing really. a slight pull and nothing else. at that point, he knew the specifics of his job, which he didn't view differently from the hundreds of jobs he'd be assigned before. he doesn't usually bother thinking about the greater picture. he considers himself a weapon who will simply do as he's told until elio fulfills his end of their agreement.

for a while after that, he finds n darling kinda weird. he doesn't get why n darling thanked him and made her synalink offer when it's pretty obvious she doesn't like the stellaron hunters. it wasn't clear to him yet that in the same way he considers himself a weapon, n darling views herself an integral organ to eris. n darling's gratitude wasn't so much that he saved her life — but that he saved eris' 'life.'

he didn't actively try to understand her because he wouldn't care to. the sole reason he picked any of this up is just from the sheer amount of time they spent coexisting. it's inevitable he'd become familiar with her to some extent. there's that, and well... n darling is rather stunning. an assignment where he basically gets to stare at a beautiful woman for days on end isn't something he's complaining about.

what served as a turning point is the nectar guide incident.

(i didn't expect for this to get so long good god but here's blade's mental health going 📉 as his journey to tap n darling begins)

when he comes to, the sight he's greeted with is this high stationed individual weeping for him and desperately tearing her clothes in a attempt to stop his bleeding. he cannot recall a time when anyone has bothered to do so, since it's known no matter how awful an injury he suffers, he'll regenerate eventually. that aforementioned slight pull grows stronger.

regarding blade's reaction to n darling poking around in his psyche uninvited, that wasn't what actually upset him. it was the possibility he'd be less attentive to her safety if he were to go around searching for survivors. for some inexplicable reason, this irked him.

then, at this exchange in ch3:

“Can it really be considered a sin if it’s beyond your control?” 

“It won’t always be,” he replies. “Until then, I can’t allow myself to forget. You must get why.” 

You wish you didn’t. 

it finally dawns on blade that he and this diva-who-pretends-she-isn't-a-diva actually share common ground. that they're both stuck in this self-perpetuated cycle of guilt and admonishment for circumstances that weren't entirely their fault. he doesn't know what to do with this information and stuffs it away for safekeeping.

then another turning point goes down:

the dissonance between lear's id and ego/superego culminates to such a degree that n darling goes unresponsive, the psychic backlash is that bad. blade doesn't understand the specifics. all he sees is this woman he's begrudgingly intrigued by collapsing to the ground with blood rushing from her nose, while her noisy friend and quiet friend rush around. eventually, he can roughly piece together what happened from these tidbits: n darling's aversion to physical contact (seen in ch1 when he reaches for her wrist and she freezes up, then once more when she avoids him after the nectar guide incident).

n darling then confirms this: "What you’re referring to is a precaution my mother suggested. In the past, strange reactions have occurred after I came into direct contact with someone."

along with well-intentioned nona's exclamation: "i yelled at him that if he hurt lear you would turn his mind into goop"

blade wouldn't have thought to configure lear into things as soon as he did had nona not given this slip of information. he already had suspicions that lear and n darling had some sort of Situation between them, because lear isn't slick and makes googly eyes @ n darling like nobodies business, but this. this is different. he could write lear's googly eyes off as a crush, which is whatever. but n darling caring for lear to such a degree that she's fine with risking her wellbeing because she likes being around him that much? hence:

You’re so swept up in your thoughts, that it takes you a while to notice how Blade’s been staring at you. This in and of itself is nothing new. He’s been your shadow ever since forced this arrangement. It irritated you at first, but that blistering offense eased into acceptance. His vigilance felt befitting of a guard. Taking in your surroundings, assessing any threats; such is his prerogative. 

How he’s eyeing you now feels different. It’s as if he’s looking through you, not at you. 

“Is something wrong? You’re making such a scary expression,” you joke. 

at that point, blade is Not Happy to an extent that confuses even him (ch5 will go into why).

then he happens to be brooding in the distance, as he's prone to do, when he sees n darling looking absolutely defeated (post the convo with caicias and chrysus). he feels this need to do something about it, remembers how often she drinks that ambrosia tea, then makes some for her. he really was going to just leave it and then give her space, but, alas:

"Your body springs up of its own accord. You balance the teacup in one hand and reach out to him with the other, your fingers fanning out, ready to sink into whatever they can. Everything happens in the blink of an eye. Your free hand succeeds in finding a destination — settling on the abrasive finish of his bandages. 

You feel another texture alongside it. 

It’s smooth, cold, and visible through the interstices of his winding bandages. 

His skin."

this contact quite literally Awakens something in him (👁👁),

"Blade’s gripping your comforter hard enough for his knuckles to turn bone white. He’s leaning forward, as if ready to pounce, yet lucid enough to exercise some semblance of self-control. He reminds you of a starved animal trapped in a cage, salivating over a piece of meat hanging outside the bars. Goosebumps cover your body. This isn’t simple lust… it’s visceral, some primitive desire too overwhelming to be understood.

You’re the one he’s staring at with this unbridled yearning.

Yes, he’s teased you. Pushed your buttons and riled you up. Not so subtly flaunted the strength that lets him maneuver you like you weigh nothing. You might have status and mastery in your given field, but he’s participated in the annihilation of worlds; the end of civilizations that span back since time immemorial.

He should be the one in charge.

Yet as you stand here, witnessing how he tortures himself by not pouncing on you like he easily could, a thought is planted.

He’d really do anything you asked if it kept this from ending."

from this point to where chapter 4 ends, blade's brain is in some sort of caveman mode. he wakes up. thinks about fucking n darling. fucks n darling. waits around impatiently until he can fuck n darling once again. fucks n darling again. goes to (half) sleep. rinse and repeat.

not only is his mara manageable when he's around n darling, but he gets this thrill too? it's a high unlike anything he's experienced in the miserable centuries he's been cursed with immortality. he isn't really worried about the specifics of their relationship, so long as he can keep railing her on every surface around. n darling's body, how she carries herself with such confidence, the way she pokes and prods at him; he's obsessed. addicted. nothing short of feral.

every stage on his hierarchy of needs has been replaced with n darling.

[wheels-of-despair]

Worth It | Ralph Penbury x You | Masterlist

{<-Previous} [There Is Nothing Wrong with You] {Next->}

Summary: You and Ralph have a heart-to-heart after the shopping incident. Words: 1.9k

Ralph was always nervous when you were late. He wondered if something bad happened to you on the way. Or if your mother had found out who you were really meeting. Or if you'd found someone better. Or that you'd simply decided he wasn't worth your time.

But when you stumbled in to your secret little place today, your eyes and nose were red. He jumped up immediately, gently grasped your arm, and escorted you the final few steps to the bench.

"Are you alright? What's happened?"

"It's nothing, Ralph." He was not convinced.

"It is very clearly something. What's upset you? Is there anything I can do?" You stare at the ground and nudge a twig with your shoe. Ralph desperately wants to press the issue, but with great effort, bites his tongue and opts to let you continue on your own time.

"Why do you meet me out here every day, Ralph?"

Your voice is so quiet when you finally speak, Ralph doesn't think he heard you right. "Pardon?"

You look up at him and ask, louder this time, "Why do you meet me out here every day?"

"Because I enjoy your company?"

You close your eyes and sigh. He panics. Was this the wrong answer? Are you going to leave him?

"Is that not the answer you were looking for? Tell me what you want to hear, and I will say it."

"Why, Ralph?"

"Because I adore you!" You shake your head and look away. He feels a sinking feeling in his gut. "Do you doubt that I adore you?"

"How could you, Ralph?"

How could he? What had he done? "If I've done something to displease you, please tell me what it is so I can apologize and correct my mistake."

You lean forward and place your head in your hands. Ralph racks his brain, trying to think of anything he's done that could have distressed you so.

"Please, tell me what I've done to upset you. Whatever it is, I'm sorry, and it will never happen again."

You sob. SOB. Ralph has made you sob. He launches himself to the ground, on his knees in front of you, prepared to beg for forgiveness. He places his hands on your knees, and you sit up out of shock.

"Ralph, what are you doing, you're going to get dirty down there."

"I don't care, please tell me what I've done, and let me atone for it."

"You haven't done anything, Ralph."

"Then tell me what's wrong!"

"This."

"This?"

"This, Ralph. This is what's wrong." Ralph has never been more lost in his life. "Look at you," you gesture, "and look at me." He follows your instructions, and still has no idea what you're talking about.

You heave a sigh and continue.

"In what world could this possibly work? You're bright, you're funny, you're handsome… you're perfect, Ralph. You're everything a girl should want. And I'm…" you gesture vaguely to yourself, "this. I'm plain, I'm boring. Hell, I'm one gray hair away from being officially declared a spinster. Why are we still pretending this could work?"

Ralph feels his heart break. It's happening again. This is the nicest rejection he's ever faced. Even in the final moments of your relationship, you're so kind that you make it sound almost as if you don't think you're good enough for him.

Wait.

Is that it?

"Do you not think you're…" He's not sure how to say it politely. If he's read this wrong, it will be the death of him. Possibly literally.

"I'm not good enough for you, Ralph." It's like you read his mind.

Ralph lets out a surprised laugh, and your eyes fill with tears. "No, no," he reaches forward and places his hands on yours. "I've been trying to convince myself that I'm good enough for you this whole time." You scoff. "Really," he continues, "you're the smartest person I know. And the kindest. And definitely the prettiest. I lie awake at night and worry that you'll meet someone more handsome, or less annoying, in the hours we're not together."

"You don't have to lie to me, Ralph."

"I'm not! I swear it, I'm not!"

"Ralph, you cannot honestly look at me and say I'm the prettiest person you know."

He makes a point to look deep into your eyes, and then he says firmly, "you are the prettiest person in the world." Because you're mine, he thinks. He still sees the doubt in your face, but he can't look away. You close your eyes, and another tear streaks down your cheek. He brings his hands to cup your face.

"Who's put these wicked thoughts into your head, darling?" Ralph Penbury is not a violent man, but he's prepared to fight whoever is responsible for this.

You turn your head and begin to shake. He comes closer to hold you and whisper soothing things in your ear until eventually, you begin to calm down. You take a shaky breath and look at him, then laugh. He's never met a more confusing person in his life.

"You should get off that cold ground and back up here before you catch your death. This is going to take a while." He smiles and joins you on the bench once more, sitting sideways and holding your hands in the middle as you begin telling your tale.

"And then I ran out, leaving all those clothes for the sales girl to put away. Poor Anna was so nice to me. I took up half her morning, and she didn't even get a commission out of me. I'll never be able to show my face there again."

"What shop was this?"

You tell him the name, picturing sweet Anna staring miserably at all the dresses she'd have to hang back up by herself.

"I cannot tell you how sorry I am about my sister."

"She's not your fault," you chuckle.

"I know," he says, "but she ought not say such things."

"She wasn't wrong," you say, picking at the fabric of your dress.

"She was."

You shoot him a look. He doesn't need to lie to you.

"You don't have to dress differently because of me."

"It wasn't… just because of you." He looks at you curiously, and your eyes return to the twig-covered ground. "I just…" You struggle with your words, wanting to explain that it wasn't for him, but because of him. Since Ralph had entered your life, everything felt different. YOU felt different. Like maybe you didn't want to be the boring girl who was just there, blending into the background, anymore. But how do you put something like that into words without sounding crazy? You sigh in resignation. "I just thought it was time to try something different."

"I quite like the way you look."

"Right," you said sarcastically. He tried, you'll give him credit for that.

"Really," he insists, "your fashion sense makes you look distinguished."

"Old-fashioned," you counter.

"Elegant," he offers.

"Antique."

"Dignified."

"Primitive."

"Appealing."

"Like a potato."

"Stop that!"

"Ralph, no one bats an eye when they see us together because they think, 'oh look at that kind young man, helping that dear old schoolmarm who's misplaced her glasses, what a gentleman!'"

"You're only a year older than me!"

You laugh. Your mood has improved greatly after your talk with Ralph, and you're only playing with him. However, he hasn't quite caught on yet. You watch the realization dawn on his frowning face. His furrowed brow shoots up, and then lowers as he tilts his head with the faintest trace of a glare. He's never able to look angry for more than a few seconds at a time. It's adorable.

"I don't like it when you talk about yourself that way," he says quietly.

"And I don't like it when you do, either," you match his tone. "You're not annoying. And finding someone as handsome as you would be a real challenge. Especially on the short walk between home and here, since this is practically the only place I ever go," you say with a wink.

He blushes and looks down at your hands, which he's still holding, after all this time.

"I suppose you're wondering why?"

You cock an eyebrow.

"Why I haven't proposed," Ralph clarifies. You'd left nothing out of your unfortunate shopping story.

"Ralph, I'm not fishing for a proposal," you attempt a smile.

"You don't think it insulting that you're the only girl in London I haven't proposed to?" he asks bitterly.

"Should I?" It comes out a little more harsh than you intended, and he flinches. You immediately feel a pang of guilt.

"How many girls have you proposed to?" you ask, your voice softening. You'd always thought the rumors of Ralph's marriage obsession were overblown, but now he had you worrying.

"Three."

"Three?"

"Three," he confirms.

You laugh. He looks at you as if he's offended.

"That's all? Three?" You laugh harder. "Ralph, the way everyone talks, I thought you were at least in the double digits. Three is nothing!"

He still looks downtrodden. "It's still three rejections. Don't you want to know what's wrong with me? There's a list."

"Ralph, there is nothing wrong with you. You just picked girls who weren't ready for all the love you have to give. It's their loss."

Ralph's eyes begin to water.

"Stop that," you order. "This bench has reached its daily crying limit. You'll have to wait until tomorrow."

He laughs.

The next morning, you were putting a book back on the shelf in the library when you heard a commotion in the entrance hall. Peeking your head out, you saw a large stack of boxes accumulating near the front door. You came out to investigate.

"What's all this?" you asked Nancy, the pretty blonde maid, who was holding the door open.

"Didn't you go shopping yesterday?"

"I didn't buy anything." You look for a tag or a card, and then sweet Anna appears in the doorway with her hands full of shopping bags.

"Hello again, miss!"

"Anna, I was coming back, honest--"

"I know, miss, you told me yesterday. But the young gentleman dropped in last night and said to send over everything you'd tried on, so you could see it in your own light. I think this is everything. You can bring back anything you don't want, or have it altered for free, as one of our preferred customers. It's all taken care of."

"Excuse me?"

"The young gentleman took care of everything. He even picked out a few things for you himself. Some of the best things in the shop!"

Your hand comes to cover your mouth, not knowing what to say.

Sweet Anna moves aside as the driver stacks the last of the boxes next to Nancy. "Please let us know if we can do anything else for you, miss. Hope to see you again soon!"

You nod and manage to croak out a "thank you" as she returns to the car, smiling from ear to ear. You're guessing Anna got her commission, and then some, from "the young gentleman."

You watch the car pull away and turn back to Nancy, who is staring at you with a devilish twinkle in her eye.

"There was a sale."

"Sure there was," she laughs.

"Not a word," you say in what you hope is a mildly threatening voice.

"A word about what? A successful shopping trip with a girlfriend?"

"This is why you're my favorite."

You and Nancy laugh and begin hauling boxes up to your room.

[stirlinqs]

being funny in a foreign language!

• WORD COUNT 1,065

• NOTE: nothing 18+ here! some parts of my text may be more descriptive than others but this is safe (pov guinevere is a mess and clearly cannot sustain relationships… ouch!)

• posted this from my ao3! (link here)

I sit in the back seat of my car.

I should be driving home. I should have my hands on the wheel, but I refuse. I stared out the window and allowed my hand to trace the glass. It’s chilly against the soft skin of my palm. When I brought my hand away, a cloudy mark became visible.

It’s simplistic and tasteless. Something about it made me smile.

New York is cold; the air is still, and the sky is navy blue, but there were specks of gold there, too.

The radio is on. I’m painfully quiet. I don’t mumble to myself. I barely even move. I chewed at my cheeks, eating away at the insides of my mouth. Small scabs cover the pinkish-orange skin of my lips. I bite at them, tear away, and hope they don’t bleed.

I curse at myself while sitting in the back. I punch at the headrest. I curl into a ball, my knees tucked closely to my chest. People walk by, they wander, and look on. Sometimes, while minding my business, I wish on the stars for someone to ask me how I am.

No one ever does.

Life, after a while of living, begins to feel suffocating. New York is no longer magical to me. The holidays become placeholders, not memory makers. Through it all, I miss him the most. It’s sour like a cherry picked fresh from the orchard. I miss the coffee stains, his laugh, and his messy notebooks filled with niche lyrics only I could understand.

I miss the caffeine highs and simple nights when all we did was drink.

Through the rubble, I miss his touch and how everything felt okay when he held me.

His band is performing at Madison Square Garden.

I had tickets.

I had planned on going, but I never showed up. Instead, I lingered in the parking lot.

Was I doomed to linger? Was I doomed to watch from the sidelines as he got on stage each night and forgot I had existed? Even if I had shown, would he have stopped and looked for me like he used to?

Things were different now, yet everything felt the same.

I was the same.

Before I climbed back into the front seat, I waited for the concert to end. I waited for people to pour out. It felt surreal. It felt bitter and confusing not being present, but I ignored that feeling for a wink. I pushed it deep down, stepping lightly on the gas and pulling my car around.

I drove past the empty tour buses parked on the side of the road. I slowed down briefly, scanning the backstage door. I contemplated parking my car and going up to it.

However, I didn’t have to.

While staring at it, he wandered out. A cigarette hung loose from his lips, slightly balanced by his fingers. I had made a total stop in the middle of the road, my hands holding onto the wheel of my car.

Before I could speed off, he spots me. He looks up and glares through my tinted windows. Ash falls from the cigarette, a trail of smoke following behind him as he walks up to my passenger side.

I roll down the window.

“How was it?” My words are careful.

“Okay,” he mutters. “There’s another show here tomorrow.”

“That’s nice.” My face is blank, the streetlights engulfing my car.

He thinly smiles, like he’s sure talking to me is a bad idea. “You didn’t show.”

“Was I supposed to?” I ask him.

He shakes his head, his curls moving with him. “No. I just thought you would’ve.”

I go to speak again, but he continues. “Ross asked where you were. I guess the guys aren’t used to it, you know? We went backstage for a moment. It felt like something was missing.”

“Nothing’s missing,” I reply. “Everything is in place.”

“It isn’t, Guin,” he says. There’s a sense of sternness in his voice. “You know that.”

“No,” I say. “It’s okay.”

His eyes are colorless, no longer brown and soft. “Guinevere, why are you sat out here?”

“I was driving home,” I lied.

He knows this isn’t true. My house is quite far from the venue. His eyebrows shift. “No.”

My lips part. “You don’t believe me?”

He puts slight pressure on his right foot, his hand above his hip. “You’re not a good liar.”

“I had pit tickets,” I mutter. “I didn’t end up going, sold it at the last minute.”

“Why?” He asked me.

“Look around, Matty.” My voice grows in volume.

For a moment, I pause. Everyone can hear us, even the people inside.

I adjust in my car seat. “Nothing’s simple anymore. There used to be some euphoric feeling being there and watching you, but it’s gone.”

“It’s not gone,” he says. “You keep running, Guin. If you’d just stop and face me, things wouldn’t be so fucking difficult to understand.”

I sigh, and he glares. Even if I focus on the road, I can still sense his eyes on me. His cigarette burns out, and he throws the butt onto the pavement. My hands are clammy. I remove them from the wheel of my car and let my sweater sleeves fall over them. Despite our current conversation, he grins. I cannot tell if it’s bittersweet or a parting message. “It’s late. Go home if you’re going. Or, you can stay. You can come inside with me.”

“I can’t, Matty.” I shake my head, my hair loose against my face.

Something on his face changes, like he’s stopped fighting for me. I can feel the shift in tone, his expression shadowed and dim. I frown. I want to go inside. I want to go up to him and say everything I haven’t been able to. I feel trapped in one spot, my body scarily still.

“Okay,” he replies. “Goodnight, then.” He turns around and walks toward the door.

Before he goes back inside completely, he lingers along the doorframe. I see him thinking something over, his eyes refusing to stay still.

After a brief moment, he lets the door shut behind him.

He disappeared into the concert venue, and I drove away without thinking.

It's sad. It makes me long for how we were just a year ago.

I know it's my fault, but maybe things can be different.

[narratingvoice]

Have you ever met other versions of yourself?

Eugh, a topic that gets right at my ego. Well, I've met a handful of other beings who call themselves The Narrator, although most of them I would hardly call a version of myself. A lot of humans in the bunch, for starters. Or at least they were more comfortable looking human than I do. And with very different opinions about themselves and their stories and Stanley. A lot of them seem to like talking to each other and fighting with each other and doing big crossover events. I stay away from that sort of thing for a couple of reasons.

Firstly, the whole multiverse crossover concept is getting totally played out in the cinemas right now. I understand wanting to attract more players by chasing popular trends, but I find it unoriginal and uninteresting. Secondly, I do not like hanging around these people for any length of time. It makes me feel weird about my perception of myself. I always enjoyed thinking of myself as a singularly brilliant intelligence, peerless in my storytelling ability. Because of this, a part of my mind automatically files those other Narrators away as not real, imposters, imitations. But another part of me cannot help but wonder if that's really the case. It gnaws at me whenever I hear them speak, the thoughts of what if this is what I could have been? Another timeline split by a single decision made differently? What if every choice I made or did not make in my whole life resulted in a different incarnation of me? Worse, what if it was their decisions that made me and not the other way round? I find myself slipping into a dizzy haze of self-confusion and regret. Surely you can see why I choose to keep to myself.

Unfortunately, there is one particular Narrator who has recently discovered me and will not leave me alone. The good news is that she is not very like me at all, so I have little problem calling her an imposter. The bad news is that he's an enormous furry monster with a horrible attitude and a worse smell. That animal barged in here and started biting and scratching at all my office furniture, and breaking my doors down with their girth. And they hate it when I call them an animal, even though they clearly are. Four paws, a long tail, and a bird-like face, what else are you supposed to call that? She has beaks all over her back in addition to the one on her face, and they all keep yammering on all at once, making it impossible to hold a conversation. And she rubbed herself all over everything to "mark territory".

To top it all off, he has the audacity to call me the copycat! And to insinuate that my liquid form is in some way repellent, even though I'm not the one who sheds everywhere. I am currently in the process of trying to vacuum the office to get rid of all the fur, but there just keeps being more. We've become fast enemies and I actually think she delights in tearing me down. I really need to find some way to keep all outsiders from coming into my Parable (except for you lovely players of course). Maybe some kind of electric fence? Or maybe I just need to call the local pound.

[incendio22]

FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL

Chapter 17: Midnight

Trigger warning: This chapter contains references to mental illness and suicidal thoughts. Stay safe, friends ♡

——————————————————————

It is almost midnight when Ominis and I return to the castle. In hopes of finding Sebastian we head straight to the Undercroft. As suspected he is sitting on the floor with a book in his lap. I have no idea how he manages to read in the awful light, but he seems to enjoy it. When he hears us he quickly stands up.

''How is she?'' He seems tense, but I cannot blame him. I would be too.

''She's doing alright, despite the circumstances.'' I tell him. ''She got a thestral.''

He lets out a sigh of relief.

''I always told her people consider them a bad omen, but she refused to believe it. She always loved them.'' He tells us. ''Did she ask anything about... Me?''

''A bit, of course.'' Ominis tells him. ''But she hasn't changed her mind, if that's what you're really asking.''

''Understood.'' He says and turns away, walking back towards the corner where he was sitting before. ''And the prophecy?''

''It's worse than we expected.'' I say seriously. ''It will come true, unless we stop it. Someone in Ominis' family will give birth to the darkest wizard yet to exist.''

''So it's all a bit... Problematic.'' Ominis says, it almost sounds as if he's holding a laugh back. ''The ironic part is that I'm not even surprised.''

''I'm sorry.'' Sebastian says seriously. ''Let me know if there's anything I can do.''

''Nothing, for now.'' Ominis walks out of the Undercroft.

''He probably needs some time alone.'' I say. ''This journey was exhausting for him. Especially after finding out about... Everything.''

''I bet.'' Sebastian says.

His mood is clearly off. Likely, mine would be too if he were to visit a sibling who didn't want to see me. He sits back down on the ground, pulling his knees to his face and puts his face in his palms.

''How could I be so dumb?!'' He cries out. ''I should have listened to you all. I went too far.''

His cries are echoing slightly in the room. I have never seen him cry before and it hurts me so much. All I want to do is make him feel better, but I don't know how. I sit down next to him, putting my arms around him in silence. I kiss the back of his head and use my robe to wipe the tears from his face.

''I messed up so bad. How can I ever forgive myself?'' His words are barely understandable now that he's crying even more intensely than before.

''You need to find the will to forgive yourself.'' I whisper into his soft hair. ''You have to accept the damage you did and find some peace with yourself, Sebastian.''

He turns around and hugs me. I hold him while he's crying so hard that he's gasping for air. I tell him to breathe deeply with me. Eventually he calms down and stops crying. His eyes are red and puffy and he looks concerned.

''Do you think she'll ever forgive me?'' He asks quietly. He looks ashamed.

''She wants to.'' I tell him. ''She told me she wants to.''

He looks up at me.

''Really?''

I nod and give him a slight smile. It seems to bring him some comfort, knowing that she at least wants to forgive him. I just hope that it will be enough for him to start his own journey on forgiveness.

''You know, this summer when I was all alone... The feelings were eating me up.'' He says quietly. ''It was so bad. I could barely look at myself in the mirror after what I did. I wanted to end it. All of it.''

His words make my stomach twist into a knot. It hurts to hear the words slip out of his mouth, but it hurts me even more knowing he had to deal with those emotions all by himself.

''Oh, Sebastian... I'm so sorry you had to go through that.'' I whisper. ''You're so brave for telling me. You don't have to go through this alone. You have me.''

He squeezes my hand and I squeeze his hand back. Squeezing and kissing his hand has become my way of telling him that I love him without actually using the words. They feel too big, too scary. So I keep them for myself.

I don't know how many hours we spend in the Undercroft. It could be an hour, it could be all night. But I hold him until we fall asleep on the floor. I want to kiss him until I can't breathe, I want to kiss him everywhere to take his pain away. But I know that tonight he needs me as a friend. Even if he doesn't use the word 'friend' to refer to me any longer, I know that it is in that way he needs me tonight. So I hold him in my arms, stroking his hair until he falls asleep, eventually falling asleep myself.

The next day I wake all tangled up in him. Our legs have intertwined and our fingers are twisted together. Even though it's cold in the Undercroft I'm warm due to his body temperature. I roll around, my back is aching from sleeping on the floor, and lie face to face with him. He's still asleep, slightly snoring. He looks so peaceful when he's sleeping and I wish I could make him have that look all the time. I kiss his nose, then his hand. His eyes open slowly, looking drowsy as he pulls me closer. He gives me a cheeky smile, despite just having woken up.

''So this is where I gotta spend the night for an awakening like this?'' His voice is hoarse from sleeping, causing it to sound deeper than usual.

''I suppose so.'' I say whilst moving even closer to him, allowing me to feel his body close.

''I could do this every day.'' He says as he presses his lips on my temple, causing me to feel a rush of heat running through my entire body.

We lie there even longer, backs hurting from the night on the floor, but not wanting to move away from the position we're in. His index finger is tracing my the lines on face, it's almost as if he's trying to fill in the lines. My upper lip tickles as he's tracing it, causing my face to light up in a smile. I kiss his index finger and he stops moving. Holding his finger completely still. He rolls over onto his back and puts his hands on his face.

''You're actually driving me crazy.'' He then says, almost looking embarrassed.

''Let me.'' I tell him daringly.

''You already have, love.'' That's the first time he ever called me a nickname that isn't 'new girl'. My heart starts fluttering.

Now it's my turn to roll over and cover my face with my hands. I feel my cheeks lighting on fire, most likely turning them into a bright red color. He sits up and looks over at me with a massive grin, then takes my hands into his and removes them from my face. I try to roll away, so he won't see my face but he shakes his head and gets on top of me.

''Oh, you're not going anywhere.'' He says, still grinning. ''Let me see that face of yours.''

For every second that passes, I'm blushing even more. He takes my wrists in to his hands, gently pushing them down on the floor. He's looking at me with fiery eyes, then eventually leans forward and kisses me all over my face except for the lips. Then, he sits back up and looks down on me.

''Oh, did I miss something?'' He asks firmly. I nod. ''You know what to do.''

''Kiss me.'' I beg him and he looks at me, as if he's deciding whether or not he should do it.

He leans back forward and kisses me, cupping my cheek with one hand and his other hand in my hair. I feel as if someone lit fireworks inside of me, hungry for more. When he's done with me, I feel like a blushy mess.

''Well, that's one way to start the day.'' He gets up and grins at me.

He offers me his hand to get up on my feet and we leave the Undercroft. In the crisp daylight I notice that his cheeks are also flushed. I smile for myself, thinking that I'm falling so hard for him.

[katerpotater]

Surprise, my FIL is here again! List of things that frustrate me:

When I'm struggling to put F down to sleep, he makes light of it even though I am CLEARLY annoyed and struggling. Then proceeds to sit in the living room and watch while I try to get her to settle again. It's so uncomfortable to have a witness to this! Please leave the room!

He's staying for a week(!) (again!) and didn't offer to pay for dinner when we went out. I mean, I would say no and pay for it, but usually when parents come and stay with us, they pay for at least one meal. Is that presumptuous of me?

When F is tantruming at the dinner table because she wants me to leave and play with her, he repeats over and over, "do you want some of grandpa's corn?" Like no joke he said it 10 times even though clearly she does NOT want some of grandpa's corn! The man cannot read a room to save his life.

He made dinner tonight and it was truly terrible! I felt bad but the lamb was so dry and chewy I almost gagged on the one piece I ate! I was so relieved that F wanted to tear me away so I had an excuse not to eat it. But I'm sure he and Mr. Potater noticed I didn't eat it :( What do you do when someone makes you a meal that disgusts you???

I wish I liked him more! He just drives me up the wall. Plus I'm bad at obliging family roles: I don't want to spend time with him in the evening. I finally put F down and I have an hour to myself tops—no way do I want to spend it talking to that guy!

Anyway, long story short, I'm a shit who's a little shit when it comes to accepting familial duties I don't agree with and I feel guilty about it...but not so guilty that I'll be any more accommodating to him.

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Allurement: Secret Weapon

Yandere Namjoon x Reader

Allurement: The Escalation

Ara leaned against the cushioned headboard as her eyes remain stuck on the screen in front of her. The laptop screen lit up the otherwise dark room in dim light, somehow making the room appear even darker.

It was past midnight but as usual, she struggled with sleep- yet this time, she was not restless. She was alone, but thrilled.

And for a very good reason.

++---++

Choi Ara eyed the stunning interiors of the office building as she breezed past employees, ignoring their greetings and eyes. She made her way towards the canteen counter and bought herself a cup of coffee and looked around before making her way towards a table occupied by a single person.

“May I?” Ara asked the person occupying the table.

Receiving a silent nod and surprised eyes, Ara smiled and made herself comfortable on the cool plastic chair. The beverage in her hold swirled along the lines of the paper cup, a bit spilling out and scalding her fingers. But she did not mind, never even hissed- simply took out a tissue paper and wiped her fingers clean- like she had done many times before.

Her deep eyes focused on the person sitting in front of her and her lips twitched, eager to curve.

“If you don’t mind me asking, aren’t you Miss (L/N)’s assistant?” she asked, eyeing the young girl in front of her.

The girl in question nodded and ducked her head.

“Um, I’m sorry, what was your name again, child?”

The girl blinked, either surprised at being acknowledged or being called a ‘child’. Ara could not contain her amused chuckle this time- the girl was even younger than (Y/N), what else would she call her?

“Hana, Kang Hana.” she replied feebly.

Ara nodded and sighed “I had accidentally heard what had transpired in the office.” 

She paused and scrutinised the girl, who ducked her head down, focusing on her milkshake instead.

“We all have bad days at work, and please do not mind Ms (L/N), she is having a tough time dealing with the board.”

The girl nodded her head “Yes, and I let her down.” she whispered to herself, clearly guilt-rendered.

Ara sighed audibly and shook her head “I know that it’s not my place to say but…we all have hard days, not-so-pleasant or favourable moments. And (Y/N) is such an understanding woman, she would understand if you let her know that you are truly sorry.”

Hana looked up, her eyes quicker and wide “Would she? She-she is not mad at me? I mean, she did seem disappointed, but will she forgive me?”

“Of course, (Y/N) sees potential in you. She is a bit let down, yes, but she also told me that she believes that there is some grave reason behind your odd, behaviour…Is it, girl?”

Hana nodded in silence, but her eye twinkled.

“Just go and tell her the reason, explain to her why you could not be your unusual professional self,” at her words, Hana stalled, her expressions dropping to uncertainty and hopelessness as she looked away.

“What happened? (Y/N)’s not your typical boss, she is kind and empathetic.”

“I do not doubt that, Ma’am. But there are things that cannot be always revealed.” she lowered her voice and looked away.

Ara immediately knew that the matter was perhaps more grave than she had assessed earlier. “Well, then, you can tell me. If I can help you…”

“No one can help me, I did this to myself.” she shook her head as her eyes turned glassy.

“Hey, hey, no problem is too grave okay? At least let me know…If you feel free. Besides, (Y/N) is one of the most understanding people you will ever meet, girl. Trust me.”

“I was so afraid…I was terrified.I just did not want to face him.”

Ara frowned “Who?”

“Mr Lee.” Hana bit her lip, evidently trying to hold back her tears

“Lee Hyunwoo?” Ara asked, intrigued.

Hana only nodded her head, but could not hold Ara’s gaze for long. Her eyes dulled further at the mention. Ara hummed and leaned closer. “Maybe I can convince (Y/N) to not put you and Mr Lee in the same room again?”

When she did not respond, Ara sighed again.

“It's okay if you don’t want to tell, we all have difficulty opening up. But, here is my card. Please feel free to contact me whenever you need.” Ara produced her business card from her bag. Hana was hesitant but accepted it.

“Thank you.”

—-------

Ara had turned into a regular visitor at the office, missing no opportunity to greet and start a conversation with Hana. And it was a week later when she found Hana crying in the restroom.

She comforted the girl like she needed to be comforted, understanding her emotional need.

“Why don’t you take a day off? You do not look good.”

Indeed, Hana looked pale almost blotchy. The unmistakable stink of vomit did not escape her senses, and it was confirmed further when the girl began to brush her teeth.

“Did you puke?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, don’t cry okay, It’s not your fault. Go home, I will speak to (Y/N), let her know that you are unwell.”

Hana shook her head. 

“It's me! I was so stupid and careless.”

“Hana, if you do not let me know of your problem, I cannot help you, (Y/N) cannot help you, tell me. No problem is too great, too big. But you should know when you need help.”

There was a suffocating silence, There had to be something grave.

Hana took a deep breath and gulped

“Please don’t tell anybody…I don’t know what to–or how.”

She broke down into pitiful sobs, intensifying the atmosphere.

“Hana…”

“Ma’am…I  am pregnant.”

“With…With Lee Hyunwoo’s child?”

A nod was enough, the girl’s face stained with anguished tears of shame. Ara said nothing for a while.

“Let’s get you something to eat. Come.”

With that, she led the girl out of the restroom.

++---++

Ara tapped her fingers lightly over the keyboard. Slow but rhythmic. A sardonic smirk danced on her lips as she read through articles after articles regarding Lee Hyunwoo- the masses romanticised the young, dashing billionaire and the media fed into their silly fantasies. Of course, Hyunwoo benefitted from that image as well.

How tragic it would be if all of it were to turn into ashes?

She dialled a number- the person picked up after a few rings.

“I need information regarding Lee Hyunwoo, what he does outside his office, whom he meets, where he goes, what he likes to do- trips, people- everything. Give me through details of each day for a week.”

She jumped straight to instructing, before cutting the call.

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

“Ms Choi.”

“Mr Lee, thank you for taking out time for me.”

“The pleasure is mine.” he smiled as he sat on the chair in front of her.

She had sent a message for him to meet her at a restaurant far away from the locality of any of the companies they were associated with. She smiled as her steady gaze followed him.

She had waited for a whole week, a whole week to note his ways, his road- all that was left was a confirmation. And if she had that…

“How is the merger coming along?”

Mr Lee smiled and nodded “Good, I’m sure you keep tabs of that Ms Choi, you are an efficient leader.”

Ara smiled and shook her head “You are being generous Mr Lee.”

“So, how can I help you?”

Good. Straight down to business.

“You are a true businessman indeed, Mr Lee.” Ara passed him a charming smile of her own

She did not try to sugarcoat. She did not need that this time. She held all the cards after all.

“Got no choice, Madame Choi. How is it being Kim Namjoon’s wife? You both might be this year’s most photographed couple.”

“It has been interesting so far, Namjoon is a lover of dreams- the husband I always wanted.” she smiled before leaning back against her chair and assuming a relaxed posture.

“There have been a lot of talks of our companies’ partnership.”

“I do not assume there is anything you do not know regarding our business, you are handling things there as well.”

“Ulysses is my father’s company, after all.”

“And soon would be your brother’s.”

Ara responded with a sardonic smile at his attempted jab. People never learn simple lessons the easy way.

“I have a deal for you, Mr Lee.” 

He rose an eyebrow at her words. “I do not deem deals struck outside the office premises the most moral?”

“Interesting to hear about ‘morality’ from you, Mr Lee.” she paused to take a sip of her coffee. “Anyway, consider this an offer.”

“Come to the point.”

Now we are talking.

Ara did not look up from her coffee cup. “I want you to keep an eye on my father and my brother, for now. I will let you know what would follow. But I should be updated in confidentiality regarding each and every action of theirs. Use your brain, your men, women- I don’t care. I need to know what they are up to.”

Mr Lee, as expected, let out an amused laugh.

 “And what makes you think that I would act like your servant? Is the little princess so used to giving orders that she forgets to distinguish between your servers and kings?”

“You are no king, and I am no ‘little princess’. You are a simple philanderer who leaves behind pregnant young girls.”  she looked up from her cup

It was amusing to watch his face contort with confusion.

“Oh, wait, you must have forgotten already, let me remind you, Kang Hana- (Y/N)’s assistant. You ran into her recently, I believe.”

To watch the colour drain from his face was pure joy for Ara. She gave him a cynical smile and continued-

“It is difficult to even assess the revenue this news would bring to the channels. Who wouldn't grasp for it? The country’s most eligible bachelor- now that Kim Namjoon is off the market- leaves young girls pregnant?”

She leaned forward, casually putting her chin on her palm, revelling the distress evident on his face.

“You and I both know that it would be a cakewalk to prove that the child is yours. The choice is yours, take my offer, or face the consequences of your deeds. Till then, I will have my eyes on you.”

With that, she rose from her seat, her gaze remained on the seated man though. 

“This Princess will be waiting for your response Mr Lee, but I’m afraid she does not have all the time in this world.”

With that, she walked out of the cafe.

As soon as she was inside her car, she dialled a number.

“Keep a close eye on him.”

With that, she cut the call and leaned against the comfortable leather as the car drove through the road, eyes still fixed outside the window in contemplation.

****

A very late but (hopefully) interesting update. We are moving towards massive revelations.

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[bpdrenga]

i cannot wait for the first day i wake up to you.

i’d wake up first because we both know you aren’t capable of waking up before 10am.

i’ll stare in disbelief at the way the sun hits your face perfectly because i truly didn’t think you could glow any brighter.

i cannot wait to make our breakfast, being sure to make myself coffee so i have the energy to put up with you for the day but making you your fruit tea because despite being 18, you are somehow incapable of standing the bitterness of coffee.

i’ll wake you up and you’ll tell me to get the fuck away from you and i’ll laugh because even when you’re tired you are still just as shitty.

you’ll eventually wake up though, you’ll hug me and thank me for breakfast and i’ll say not to thank me because it is the bare minimum.

i cannot wait to lay on your bed while you yell about how you don’t know what to wear for our first real date and how you want us to match but i don’t own anything in blue.

i’ll tell you you look great in every outfit you put on and of course you’ll tell me to shut the fuck up because i *clearly* don’t know anything.

i’ll braid your hair into two braids and you’ll rest your head on my legs and i’ll scold you because i can tell you’re falling asleep but we still have the day ahead of us.

i cannot wait to grab your hand and walk out of the house. i’ll hand you an airpod and tell you to listen to the new song i found, it’ll be our song. always.

we’ll walk to a bakery and even though it’s 12pm, you’ll still ask for a slice of ice cream cake and even though i think it’s a gross decision, i’ll pay the $7 for it.

i cannot wait to take picture of you on a polaroid camera while you feed the turtles at the zoo. you’ll yell at me for the fifth time that day about how bad the picture is (it’s my favorite).

you’ll take one of me looking at an ant on the ground and i’ll complain about how it’s a bad angle (it’s your favorite).

i cannot wait to look at you lovingly when you order for me at a restaurant because i’ve gone mute and need a break.

we’ll walk home hand in hand laughing about the day and all the pictures we took.

when we get home we’ll lay in bed eating snacks and leftovers from the restaurant while watching the harry potter movies (again).

i *can* wait to wake you up because you fell asleep in my arms and you need to wash your makeup off but you look so peaceful that it feels criminal to wake you up.

you’re groggy and drained and i help your wash your face and tie your hair back. i’ll always help you.

we get in bed and you’re scrolling on your phone in the dark and i’m looking at you. i’ll tear up a bit knowing that we have two weeks of this and god only knows when it’ll happen again.

i cannot wait to tell you i am in love with you and how scared i am to lose you (i am) just for you to say that we are fine and will be because you love me just as much (you can’t, i know that).

[lovelyrocker]

Staying’s Worse Than Leaving

~ RPF

~ Charmie

~ Timothée x Armie

~ Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, doubt

~ Word Count: 818

Tears fell from Armie’s eyes as he packed his things in his suitcase. His wife of 10 years, Liz, walked into the room and saw him. She paused with confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you last night I couldn’t do this anymore, Liz.” Armie told her, wiping his face.

“You’re kidding, right?!”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He glared at her.

“You are really gonna throw away 10 years, Armie?”

“No, I’m throwing away constant arguing, lying, cheating, and toxicity.” He zipped his bag. 

“That’s just us. It’s how we are.”

“And we are toxic together.”

Liz scoffs. “If you walk out on this family, you are a pussy.” She tells him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I am not walking on this family; I'm walking out on you.” He clarifies. 

“So, all of the couples counseling was for nothing?!” She throws her hands up in disgust.

“Oh, come on. Liz! Therapy was a joke! We both stopped loving each other a long time ago!”

“So that’s it?! You’re just gonna leave?”

“Yeah, because the kids don’t need to hear us arguing every other day. The bad outweighs the good. We don’t have enough good days in between the bad ones.”

“You are such a fucking prick!” Liz snaps. “This is about your little fuck toy, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah right! I’m not stupid, Armie! I know every time you take off you are with him!”

“So why do you want to be with someone who is clearly cheating on you?! It’s not because you love me!” He spreads his arms in emphasis. “You cannot stand me most of the time. I walk into a room, and you roll your eyes in disgust! We never touch or kiss or anything unless we are both half drunk! Do you think that’s good for the kids to see?!”

“So, you think it’s better for them to see their daddy leave their mom for someone else? For a man?!”

“I am not leaving you for him!” He tells her, demanding her attention. “We aren’t even seeing one another!”

“Oh.” She said, raising her brow then a patronizing laugh. “So, this is him giving you an ultimatum. Leave me or he walks.”

“No!” Armie shouted in frustration. “That’s not what this is!” He turned, facing her. “He did point out that I’m treating him unfairly, though.” His voice lowered. “He deserves better than only half of a person. It made me realize that I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want my kids growing up thinking that it's okay to be in a loveless marriage where all you and your partner do is argue. I don’t want them to see us getting pissy and annoyed with one another for entering a room and thinking that’s normal.”

“So instead of trying harder you just want to walk?”

“There is nothing left here to fight for!” His frustration was getting the best of him. “There is nothing here that I want!”

“You are such a selfish asshole!” Liz yells in his face.

“No, staying is selfish. Putting the kids and myself through this is selfish. Will it hurt? Yes! Will I second guess the decision? Absolutely. We spent 10 years of our lives together. But I would rather that, then regretting this and resenting you later. I want to be able to look back at our marriage and say it was great but not forever. I don’t want to think about it and have it be one of the worst time periods in my life. And that's exactly what will happen if we keep this going.”

“I’m so sure!” Liz rolled her eyes, turning away.

“If you need to make me the bad guy to make this easier for you, that’s fine. Do what you need to.” He shakes his head. “You think this is gonna eventually get better and it’s not. It’s just gonna get worse. We tried hard but it’s just not working anymore.”

“If you think I’m gonna just forgive you when you come crawling back, you’re wrong.” Liz spits out as she walks out of the room.

Armie grabbed his bag and walked down the hall, pausing at the kid’s bedroom. He pressed a kiss to his son and daughter’s head with tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He knew this was what was best for them, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Armie stood with his bag outside of the door with fresh tears welling in his eyes as he gently knocked. The door opened and Timothee stood there, his mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Can I crash here a few days?” Armie asked in a low voice. “I left Liz and I just need a couch til I figure out my next more.”

Timothee pulled Armie into a tight hug and held him as he sobbed in his arms. 

@ queenvpr  @martinfreemanismyaesthetic 

[woozapooza]

Miscellaneous thoughts about Sopranos season 6A

I’m almost done with the whole show, you guys! Crazy! I’m honestly looking forward to it being over so that I can breathe again. This is a selection of the stuff I wrote in my journal this season/half-season (however you want to look at it). This post is RIDICULOUSLY long (about 1700 words) so it’s going under a cut.

Originally I was going to put this point much later in the post but I’ve decided to put it first because it’s the most important: you guys, I adore Jennifer Melfi SO incredibly much and I miss the days where she was actually a main character SO incredibly much. Like don’t get me wrong, the second half of the show has been fantastic so far, but it just cannot compare to the first half for the simple reason that the character who is objectively the best used to be central and now she’s peripheral. Even if her role HAD to decrease a little bit, I wish it hadn’t decreased so much. But I’m grateful for every single second that she’s on my screen. She is literally one of THE characters ever.

The montage at the beginning of 6x01 “Members Only” was SO cool! I love a good montage, and the beginning of a season after a substantial time jump is the perfect place to put one.

In 6x02 “Join the Club,” when AJ made his oath of revenge against Junior, I wrote in my journal, “Bad idea, AJ! That could be the start of a Michael Corleone arc!” Then in 6x08 “Johnny Cakes,” we learn that AJ was consciously emulating Michael! I’m SO proud of myself for picking up on that parallel before the show spelled it out. AJ has internalized the values of the life his parents tried so hard to steer him away from, which isn’t surprising. I mean, it’s really telling that in 6x11 “Cold Stones,” Tony characterizes AJ’s problem not as a lack of responsibility or integrity but as a lack of “balls.” Tony doesn’t want his son to be a criminal like he is, but he’s never managed to dig deeper and challenge the ultra-masculine values that his entire life is founded on. 

Speaking of not thinking deeply about the values one holds, something none of these characters are particularly good at: Paulie’s fury toward Nucci in 6x04 “The Fleshy Part of the Thigh” is just the flip-side of his prior fanatical devotion, which was clearly based less on who she was and more on what she was. It was in large part a formality: not actually reciprocating all she did for him, just blindly following the rules. I say “in large part” because, thank goodness, in 6x09 “The Ride” he finally relents. Heartwarming! Man Sits In Silence On Couch With Elderly Adoptive Mother. (I’m going to go ahead and give Tony some credit for that: I think the lecture he gave Paulie in 6x04 sank in eventually.)

At last Carmela (with Melfi’s help—btw, it was SO great to see another one-on-one session between them!) has articulated the thing I’ve been thinking since at least the second season: she and Tony can claim all they want that they have their kids’ best interests at heart, but the fact is that Meadow and AJ were put into an impossible bind simply by being born.

It’s so funny how these guys (mobsters/mafiosos/wiseguys/whatever the best term is—I’m just gonna stick with “guys”) will tear into each other one moment, but then defend each other in the presence of outsiders. When Johnny cries at the wedding, Phil says that his “estimation of John Sacrimoni as a man just fucking plummeted,” but a moment later, when a random guest comments on what a sad display it was, Phil goes “he’s an emotional man 😔he loves his daughter 🥹.” Then in 6x10 “Moe ‘n’ Joe,” Tony tells Silvio he hopes Johnny dies in prison and Silvio fantasizes about throwing acid on Johnny, but a moment later when Sal Vitro refers to Johnny as “guilty,” Tony and Silvio are both like HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT ABOUT HIM 😠

This outward-facing ride-or-die stance is precisely the arrangement that Johnny violates in “Moe ‘n’ Joe” by putting family over Family. Putting aside his career and just focusing on the choice in isolation, there is a kind of nobility in his decision to take the plea deal that will let his family keep more of their money, knowing that his former colleagues will see no nobility in it and from that moment on he’ll be dead to them. Just another example of how the world these guys live in actively discourages having a heart. (Side note, Johnny is one of my favorite characters and I don’t even really know why. I get so excited every time he’s on screen. I’m always like YES IT’S THIS GUY! IT’S MY MAN!)

At the wedding, Tony is the only one of the guys to express sympathy for Johnny: just as he was (IIRC—it was a long time ago) the only one who we know for a fact was haunted by Pussy’s death (EDIT: he's not the only one, but my main point stands), just as he was the only one who mourned Tracee as a human being, just as in the next episode he will display a teensy bit of compassion for Vito when most of the guys don’t. If we didn’t get these little glimpses of a heart in Tony, if he was just rotten through-and-through, he wouldn’t be nearly as interesting a protagonist. Instead, he’s only like 99% rotten and that 1% is where the tragedy comes in. I want to say I could fix him, but that would be putting myself above Melfi, and I can’t bring myself to do that. If she can’t do it, no one can—except Tony himself, and he’s not going to. Alas.

Meadow is so frustrating because she is the one Soprano who is actually making the world a better place, but then she goes and confirms the rumor about Vito with no hesitation or qualms. Wtf queen??? Did she not care about the consequences for Vito, or did she just not think about them in the first place? I suspect it’s the latter, given that when Finn points out that Vito will probably face violence now, she doesn’t have a counterargument, but in that case...why didn’t she think about the consequences? I don’t get her. It’s so frustrating because Meadow is right about a lot of things, but like Tony, when she’s challenged to confront her own mistakes and blind spots, she just lashes out. Anyway I’m thinking of being her for Halloween next year.

It’s nice that Angie is friends with the other ladies again, but how did that happen? Even Rosalie is nice to her now, and it was Rosalie who told Adriana last season that Angie’s “not welcome here” anymore.

I’m enjoying the Cleaver stuff so much.

It’s so funny at the beginning of “Johnny Cakes,” when, having learned that it’s not going to be feasible to extort the manager of the new cafe, Patsy laments, “It’s over for the little guy.” Like he’s not WRONG but what a funny reaction to not being able to do the crimes you used to do. I don’t think you’re really the victim here, king.

You can certainly make the case that Melfi should have given up on Tony by now, but I truly find it so endearing how she continues to see potential in him, and how she’s always so proud of him whenever he does anything right. Like in 6x12 “Kaisha” when Tony recounts Christopher’s confession that he’s seeing Julianna, she’s like “omg and you DIDN’T get violent with him? Amazing job!!!” God I adore her so much I can’t even take it. 

Phil keeps claiming that he has a stake in what happens to Vito because Marie Spatafore (hi, sister of the actress who plays my favorite character!!!) is his cousin. That makes it sounds like he cares about her. But he does exactly what she DOESN’T want and murders her husband, because he doesn’t care about her, he cares about his own pride, to which she’s just an accessory. It’s what I was talking about in this post I made about 4x04 “The Weight”: when a woman is wronged, the men close to her take that as a cause for revenge regardless of the woman’s wishes. Except the men I was talking about in that post genuinely love the women they want to avenge; they just express that love in a self-centered and unhelpful way. Phil, in contrast, embodies the most extreme form of that sort of paternalistic vengefulness. He knows Marie doesn’t want Vito dead; he doesn’t care. He knows what he wants to do would actively hurt the woman he claims to be doing it for; he does it anyway. Not very nice, Phil!

After making up his mind that Vito has to die, Tony angrily says, “It’s Vito’s own fault. Why couldn’t he stay where he was?” To which Silvio says, “Don’t beat yourself up about this.” Silvio sees right through Tony’s bluster; he knows it’s a defense mechanism against guilt. That’s another thing Silvio has in common with Melfi, who can also see right through Tony’s posturing. For example, in that same episode, when Tony is complaining about AJ and wishing Carmela hadn’t prevented him from using his father’s harsh parenting techniques, Melfi cuts right through the lies that he tells himself: he claims to believe that his father had the right idea, but she points out that really, he wishes Livia had protected him from Johnny the way Carmela protects AJ. (Side note, I’ve drafted a post about Silvio and Melfi as complementary consiglieri to Tony. Will probably post it at some point.)

I love overarching character parallels AND I also love single-episode character parallels. Parallel between Vito and Tony in “Moe ‘n’ Joe”: both try to adjust to a new status quo (for Vito, a quiet life with a boyfriend and a boring but legitimate job; for Tony, a wife with a career) but both give up, screwing over other people in the process (for Vito, Jim and the guy he killed on the way back to NJ; for Tony, Carmela).

Christopher to Julianna in 6x12 “Kaisha”: “It’s just weird being where [Tony]’s been.” Tony to Valentina in 4x08: “I don't want to be where Ralph Cifaretto has been.” You guys are so cringe.

Even though Carmela can finally work on her spec house again (yay!), I hope she doesn’t forget about Adriana.

I love how Carmine talks. He talks like he’s composing a business email.

[ijayway]

Mr. Henderson

I tried in school, I promise you I did. I did well in almost every subject, I just couldn’t do math. I always struggled in the subject, but senior year is particularly hard because of Mr. Henderson.

He was a little over six feet tall and had a deep voice. It was clear he worked out, his workout bag was usually in the corner of the classroom.

His one downfall is his odor. Like I said, he is very attractive, but sometimes he simply smelled bad. I had him later in the day, and sometimes he would workout on his lunch break. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because he obviously doesn’t shower before going back to teaching. One time he accidentally opened his gym bag and I was able to smell his shoes on the other side of the room. I hated bad smells, especially feet.

“Jake, meet me after class, alright?”

I knew what this meant, I failed another test. I stayed in my seat after the final bell and listened to all my classmates head home for the day. I go up to his desk and sit in the chair next to it. Once the room cleared, Mr Henderson stood up and closed the door. I started to grow nervous when I heard him lock the door and pull down the blinds.

“Jake, you failed another test. A 40 percent, seriously? We spent so much time going after this, what the heck happened?”

I have my head down in shame, I am passionate about school and disappointing a teacher is upsetting.

“I’m sorry, sir. I tried really hard, I promise I did”.

He cuts me off, not accepting my promise to the truth.

“Honestly, I don’t really believe you. I see the way you dose off in class, whats the deal?”

“I really don’t know, I’m sorry”.

The truth is, I am looking at him more than paying attention in class. I just can’t help myself sometimes.

“Well, I am sick of wasting my time. It’s clear that you aren’t getting it and don’t seem to give a crap”

I am shocked at this raise in aggression, he doesn’t ever get like this. He has always been so nice and helpful, I don’t understand what is going on.

“No sir! I promise I do care, I really do!”

“Well Jake, you’re about to fail my class and not be eligible to graduate”

I start to full on panic at this response, I knew it was bad but I did know it was that bad.

“Please Me Henderson! I’ll do anything for extra credit, please!”

I am full on begging at this point, I cannot fail and repeat senior year.

“Well lucky for you I came up with the perfect extra credit assignment”. For the first time, his tone changes from aggression, but now its more devious. My eyes widen once he dropped his sweaty gym bag on his desk in front of me.

“Ever since you asked me to move you away from Nick and closer to the window, it started noticed other weird shit you did. You constantly use hand sanitizer and are always chewing gum.”

Its true, I was a germaphobe, I didn’t think it was that noticeable. Clearly it was, and it pissed Mr. Henderson off.

“Obviously you got a weird thing with being a little gross. Aren’t you a man? Why are you so concerned about little germs, when you can do simple math!”

Tear start quickly streaming down my face as Mr. Henderson degrades me. I thought he liked me, but he just sees me as a weak, feeble excuse for a man.

“So, here’s what you’re going to do. You are going to learn what a real man smells and taste like and earn extra credit. I got a bag full of sweaty gym gear behind me, stuff that hasn’t been washed all week. 1 minute earned a half point extra credit. You need all the points you can to get to a passing grade, and just a 100 on this exam isn’t going to be nearly enough”

“Please sir, don’t make me do this! There has to be another way!”

I am full on sobbing at this point, I really don’t want to deal with his stench.

He then gets closer and smacks me in the face. He is now fully pissed off, I start to realize I have no other choice.

“No, there isn’t. Its obviously you’re a lost cause in math, I’m not wasting any more time trying to teach you. I’m already willing to stay two hours after school on a Friday to help you, be fucking grateful.”

Accepting I have no other way, I slowly pick up his shoes and start to inhale. I can only manage a few seconds before I throw myself in a coughing fit, close to throwing up. Mr. Henderson starts to laugh at my reaction to his disgusting shoe.

“Better get back to it! Like I said, there isn’t a lot of time left his semester.”

I bring the shoe back up to my face, accepting my face.

“Oh! I also got some other stuff to smell and lick if you get bored of my workout gear”

“Also, smelling and licking my feet for at least 30 minutes a day is mandatory if you want any of this to count.”