#somebody help me without structure | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

garfunklefield · 7 months

Text

Pools and Honey

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!reader/Kento Nanami Warnings: reader has a temperature kink, pool .. fondling? outdoor sex but it's in his backyard, creampie, grinding, fondling, intense sexual tension, Nanami is the consent king, praise, dilf!Nanami, there is like a twenty year age gap, Nanami is divorced and also wears glasses again :P, Yuji and Sukuna are his kids, fluff, there is plot to this porn Word count: 4857 DESC: You become the live-in maid and babysitter for the hot dilf Kento Nanami.

I have a Ko-Fi now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm super excited :3 I've already uploaded some content and I'll make sure to get you guys well-fed! And PLEASE send me requests I have no ideas!

You got a match. It had been several days since you had put your resume up on a babysitting website, in hopes of someone swiping yes on you. All you needed was somebody to say “Yes of course watch my child, you stranger!” But it wasn’t looking good. You wanted to give up and continue going to your dead-end job, giving up your dream of raising children in hopes of being a good mother someday.

But then you got a match. It was a man older than you, about his forties, with two young boys. He was polite in his message, detailing how pay would work even the boys’ temperament. They were twins, ages 7. Ryomen and Yuji. Yuji was a blessing to the world with a habit of forgetting stranger danger, whereas Ryomen seemed to be … spunky as his dad put it. You knew it was another word for a problem child. They looked adorable in their photos, although you found yourself staring more at their father than anything else.

Kento Nanami… From the way he dressed in that selfie with him and his boys, the background of a few other photos, and the pay he was offering you could tell he was rich. A rich dilf who was offering a higher salary than what you were getting at your current job. It made your mouth water thinking about how all your bills would be paid.

Then you got to read his message more. It was polite and well-structured, with good grammar. Formal, a bit too formal if you thought about it but you didn’t mind. He was looking for a live-in maid and babysitter, who could watch his children 24/7 without hesitation.

He wanted you to move in? Well not entirely. He wanted to ease into the live-in maid situation and get the boys accustomed to you. If the first meet-up didn’t work you knew there wouldn’t be any hope for the future. It wasn’t looking too grim, and you were elated at the thought of living in a big house for free with a rich older man. You shot him back a simple reply and soon the date was set to meet the Nanami’s.

It was hard to pick out what to wear and you decided on something more conservative than you’d typically go for. It was about the boys today and you wanted to make sure you didn’t scare off their father either by dressing too scandalously. You wore a big black turtleneck and some loose-fitting jeans, all to cover your figure.

Walking up the steps of his house it was hard to stare. Ivory walls that shot up off the ground and about three stories from what you could gauge. Who really needed all of that house? No one! Nonetheless, you quickly moved through the driveway and the maze of plants, approaching the front door. It was black with a large gold doorknob. Inside you heard nothing with no sign of life from the outside of the house either. But once you touched the ring doorbell, because of course what rich person doesn’t have that, you saw lights flick on. Not just lights but you heard a loud crash, followed by clambering to get to the door.

Two boys, you knew it. There was some commotion between the two of them before you heard a man’s deep and soothing voice break their tension, followed by a “Yes Dad” from the boys. God, he looked and sounded hot? You were completely and utterly done for. Dating your boss was a complete no in this field, something you knew from experience. But you couldn't help it! You had a type. Dilfs.

The door opened and you were met with a man who you soon realized was much taller than you anticipated. He was blonde, hollow cheekbones filled his face, and he stared at you with dead tired eyes. Kento, as you remembered, had on the same pair of thick aviator glasses that were perched upon his thin nose. He wore a simple outfit of a button-up shirt and some slacks, and you noticed a fancy watch on the wrist of the hand he moved to shake yours with.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he spoke politely, not bothering to gaze at you as intensely as you were staring at him. You reminded yourself to blink and you quickly returned his handshake, trying not to grip him too firmly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you two, Mr. Nanami. I’m very excited to meet Yuji and Ryomen,” you smiled, tilting your head a bit. You mainly did that to see a bit of the inside better, and to gauge where the boys were.

You heard another loud crash and Kento retracted his hand, turning his head to find where the noise was coming from, “Speak of the devil. Boys,” he warned, his voice edging a faint shout. You heard some scrambling and you saw two of the cutest boys in the world scurry up to their father.

You could instantly tell who was who, even though they were practically identical. Yuji had wide eyes full of wonder, with a green dinosaur shirt on and pink spiky hair pushed downwards against his forehead. His cheeks were plump and fat, bouncing upwards into a smile when he saw you. Then there was Ryomen. He looked agitated, with his hair spiked upwards and a plain black shirt adorned on his small body. He looked at you for a moment and his eyes widened before he averted his gaze quickly.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you turned your attention to the both of them, bending down and resting your hands on your knees to meet their eye level. You spoke your name and then smiled, first at the boy who wasn’t looking at you, “You’re Ryomen, right? I like your hair. My brother likes to make his all messy like that too.”

The little boy looked back at you with a sheepish expression, before nodding, “S’nothing,” was all he said, looking over to his brother. It was as if he expected Yuji to be the center of attention once you were done talking to him and you felt your heart squeeze. You knew why. Problem children never got looked at the same as well-behaved children, especially if the two were side by side. From the way Ryomen looked at you, he knew you’d become busy with Yuji. He was always cast aside, compared to his brother, probably even ridiculed for it. All he needed was attention. And it didn’t seem Yuji cared if you paid attention to him either way, as he was now busy trying to get his father to pick him up.

“Yuji, why don’t you say hi to your babysitter?” Kento asked blankly, his voice remaining flat as he spoke.

Yuji glanced at you and waved, smiling widely, “Hi!” Before turning back to his dad and making grabby hands.

You smiled and waved back, turning your head to Ryomen again, “Is your favorite color black? Mine’s dark red, it’s kinda similar if you think about it,” you spoke calmly and delicately, in a way you knew he hadn’t experienced very often.

He nodded, cracking a toothy smile, “Mhm. And green. I like green … cause it’s like leaves,” Ryomen motioned to the plants behind you.

Kento cleared his throat and you gazed back at him, “Why don’t you come inside? Make yourself comfortable.” You nodded and followed suit, coming inside.

Yuji and Ryomen played on the floor, wrestling around or using their action figures. You sat on the couch a few feet away from their gorgeous father, who spoke occasionally to you. You thought it would go a bit differently, with more questions on your qualifications or your flexibility. But instead, he seemed to be observing how you acted with his children. The boys seemed instantly comfortable, Yuji it wasn’t surprising, but for Ryomen, you felt slightly surprised. From the way he was described, you were expecting a boy who was too bratty to even look at you respectfully. Instead, he was polite and soft-spoken. Every time he accidentally stepped on your foot or chucked a toy in your direction he’d apologize quickly and go back to doing his activity, nothing malicious about him.

“They’re cute,” you murmured, getting lost in just watching them be kids. God your ovaries just hurt at the sight of them, it made you wonder why it was taking you so long to find someone to settle down with. Well maybe…

You shook your head. No. You couldn’t date your boss, especially with his kids in the mix. Not to mention, he probably had a wife. This big of a house, and with his looks? There was no way he was single. He had to be married and you let out a sigh as you accepted this dilf was out of reach.

“They’re very comfortable with you. With the last babysitter, they were too shy,” Kento nodded as he spoke, using his left hand to motion to his kids. You glanced and your heart sped up. He didn’t have a ring. His hand was completely bare aside from the watch. Was he actually single? There was no way in hell he was single.

“I’m glad. Ryomen’s such a sweetheart and so is Yuji, of course,” a small smile bit on your lips as you watched the two boys wrestle around on the floor without a care in the world. God they were cute and god did your uterus hurt.

“People don’t typically say that about Ryomen,” he sighed, pressing his index finger against the middle of his glasses to push them up, “I’m glad to hear something different for once.”

It was sad but you knew it was true. Before you could reply, Kento spoke again, “I think I want to hire you right away as a full-time maid, if you’re willing to accept. I have a good feeling about this.”

You quickly learned the status of your boss's romance life after overhearing a few too many phone calls. He was divorced with a wife who had a thing for younger men. They’d often talk on the phone in a way that made your skin crawl. So tense and so passive-aggressive. You picked up the fact that she must’ve cheated or done something to push him over the edge, but none of it was confirmed.

The boys would spend every weekend with their mother and whatever boyfriend she had then. He didn’t mind being alone with you, he seemed to enjoy it. Kento would speak casually about a book he was reading, or just about something random that had happened to him that day. As if he was a friend or polite coworker, rather than your actual boss. It didn’t help either that your attraction for him grew. Every time his hand would accidentally brush against yours or his eyes would graze against your skin, you felt yourself become as light as a feather.

You wanted to feel his cold hands rake up and down your body, grabbing you in ways you knew he never would. You wanted to feel him become hard underneath your touch and revel in the fact you could make such a man bend to your will. But you had no hopes of him ever liking you like that. His glances were long, sure, but very PG. You never caught him once staring at your ass or a bit of cleavage through your shirt. His eyes were always on your face, with a polite faint smile ghosting his lips.

Today was Saturday. The two young boys were gone and it was you and Kento alone, sitting on his long white couch. He was a few feet across from you, legs casually crossed as he read some book you weren’t too familiar with. It was growing increasingly hot in the room and you couldn’t tell if it was your hormones or the fact the AC hadn’t been lowered in a few hours. It was almost summer so the fact it was getting warmer wasn’t too surprising. It was maybe mid-afternoon, with the sun shining through his back screen door.

You had eyed it for a long time before even asking him about the pool in the back. He didn’t typically use it as you soon learned, instead opting to sit and read. Always read. But it felt different. You tugged at the collar of your shirt and made some comment about how it was becoming too hot to handle.

Kento’s eyes glanced from one of the pages to your face, before setting down the book on his lap, “You’re hot?” He raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

You nodded, “I might grab some ice to eat if that’s okay,” you motioned to the kitchen in the other room, separated by a half wall.

“You can go swimming,” he suggested, nodding his head over to the glass door, “It’ll cool you down.” A different look filled your boss’s eye as he then added, “I’ll join you.”

With that, Kento stood up and headed upstairs to his room. The way he looked at you wasn’t the same as it had always been. You couldn’t tell if it was just a playful glance or perhaps a lustful gleam filling his eyes. You couldn’t tell if he wanted this evening to turn into something more than just a casual swim in his pool.

You weren’t sure which bathing suit to wear. You had a suit you’d wear in front of your family, it was a red one-piece that practically covered everything. But if it was going where you thought it was going you didn’t want to cover up. Instead, you opted for a pink two-piece with ribbons and bows on the sides. It was cute and innocent, the total opposite of your mind at that moment. God you could just picture his big hands on your ass, grinding you against the bulge in his pants while you two stayed in the water. It turned you on to think of how warm he’d be in contrast to the icy cool water against your skin. And you hoped he’d stare at you with some ounce of perversion in his gaze. Some ounce of pure unbridled lust.

Once you finished changing and put your hair up into something you considered fashionable, you made your way onto the back patio. It didn’t take you very long to find Kento sitting poolside, with his legs in the water. God just the sight of his back was enough to make the tender spot between your legs melt. He was toned and muscular, practically sculpted by god. You wanted so desperately to run your hands down his back and up his front, just tracing each muscle to feel him squirm.

“Kento,” you began, closing the screen door behind you. He turned his head and let his dull eyes rake up your body ever so slowly. There was a new kind of tension that wasn’t there the day you first met. It was as if he was looking at you from a whole new lens. It was as if he finally thought he had a chance.

“I like it. Is it new?” He inquired, motioning with his right hand for you to sit beside him. You followed quietly, making sure to keep a few inches of space in between you two as you perched beside the pool and felt the cold water run up your legs.

You bit your lip at the sensation of prickling cold and closed your eyes. Who wasn’t into a bit of temperature play, right? You had completely forgotten to answer Nanami, getting lost in the sensation of cold water against your skin. The mixture of that and the fact you could practically feel the warmth radiating off of your boss made you wetter beyond belief.

He cleared his throat and you looked at him through rows of thick eyelashes, “Hm?” Your head lazily tilted to the side, with a hazy blush forming at the temples of your cheeks. He was godly. His chest was made from the finest of marble and cut just to suit your perverted gaze. It made him seem unnaturally beautiful if that was even possible.

“I like your bathing suit,” Kento repeated, with his voice turning to a silky low tone. You could practically hear him groaning and moaning in your ear.

You nodded and turned away, staring down into the blue water. It was so clear you could see the bottom below you, which was painted a stark white. You could also see Kento’s legs, which were (just like his back) completely toned and rippled with muscles.

“I like yours,” you replied before dipping down into the water. You bit back a moan at the incredibly cold feeling shooting up your back and in between your legs, gripping onto the edge to steady yourself. Now if it just got incredibly hot… god that would be perfect. You looked up at him with a sheepish grin, noting the fact his eyes were completely glued on you. Not your face though.

Kento hadn’t had a chance to fully take in your form, seeing as you only wore baggy clothes in front of him. And now he had a perfect view of your breasts and it turned you on from how he stared. You could tell he wanted to fondle them and make them his. Bite along the skin and suck your nipples until they are sensitive to the touch. You bit your bottom lip again, feeling a throb pulsate through your swollen clit. Just any sort of friction would’ve been nice at that moment.

He hopped down into the water a few moments later, keeping his distance. It was as if he stood too close he’d lose all control and do something he’d regret in the morning. But you wanted so badly for him to lose control and fuck you senseless in the water. You wanted him to take your wet pussy and brand it with his cock until he was milked dry.

“Thank you,” Kento whispered, eyes staring up into the sky which was beginning to turn an orange color in the distance, “The boys really like you. And I really like you… is that odd to you?” He looked back at you with an intense gaze.

You shook your head, “I like you. It’s not weird. I…” You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t confess that you had been having those thoughts to him. You couldn’t tell your boss you wanted him to fuck you. You couldn’t.

He took one slow step towards you, big hands coming and resting against the small of your back, “Tell me. Does this make you uncomfortable?” His voice was a low purr, with his eyes boring holes into yours.

You felt your cheeks heat up and prickle a warm shade of pink, “...No.”

“Can I continue?” The blonde man tilted his head to the side, begging to inch closer to your perfect body. His hands moved from your back to grip onto your side, molding against your love handles and massaging them with a circular motion.

You couldn’t help yourself and you nodded quickly, bringing your hands to rest on his chest, “Please,” was all you had to whisper, because then his hands moved from your love handles to cradle your ass. One hand rubbed large circles while the other squeezed and prodded at it, just to get a rise out of you. You inhaled sharply and groaned into the sensation, pressing yourself against his stiff body, feeling the tent in his swimsuit press against your front.

“You tease me… walking around with those outfits, to make me wonder what body you have underneath,” Kento cooed, resting his chin against your head, “I could fuck you into apologizing, hm? I could make you sorry for teasing me like that if I was mean…”

A whimper came tumbling out of your mouth just at his words. God his voice was heavenly. You wanted him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he fucked you from behind, forcing your back into an arch and pulling you by your hair.

“You like that, I’m not surprised,” you could practically hear the smile biting at his lips as he pulled you back by your hips. He stared down at your face before pulling one of his hands from your lower half to touch your cheek, “May I kiss you?”

Your legs melted then and there. What a gentleman. What a fucking gentleman. Every single time he asked, even when he could gauge the answer from the look on your dumbstruck face, he asked. It made you hornier to just think he cared about how you felt in that moment. He cared about you in a way that wasn’t just sexual. I mean he entrusted you with his kids 24/7 of course he cared!

“Kiss me,” you whispered, resting your hand against his own on your face. A nurturing smile formed on his soft mouth and you felt it press against your own. It was chaste and sweet, just to test the waters. But it didn’t stay that way for long.

He pressed shallow kisses against your lips just to build up the sensation before englonging them ever so slightly. They got longer and longer until his mouth wasn’t moving from yours, but instead molding to become one. He sucked against your bottom lip and kissed you with passion. It was delicate and gentle, but you could tell he wanted to go crazy. You could tell he was holding back and it drove you crazy!

Kento tilted his head and slowly deepened the kiss, bringing your bodies closer together. His hands were underneath your thighs, pulling you up until your feet were no longer touching the bottom of the pool. Instead of bringing you to sit on the edge of the pool as you thought he was going to do, he put his leg in between yours and pressed you against his knee. Friction.

You moaned into the kiss and began to rock your hips back and forth, anything to get off to elevate the throbbing in your pussy. The man’s hands didn’t stay PG for long, one staying on your ass to prop you up as the other moved to untie your swimsuit top from behind. You needed to cum, it was a primal urge in your gut. You had to cum, you couldn’t stand not being able to anymore. And you needed to cum with Kento, on Kento, anywhere.

“May I?” Kento asked, looking down at you as he messed with the string of your bikini top. You nodded and moaned out an exacerbated please and he followed suit.

Your swimsuit top was off within a few seconds and he didn’t take long to attack one of your nipples, sticking your breast inside his mouth. He knew exactly what to do, using his tongue to roll over the nub and his teeth to grade against the sensitive area. You didn’t even realize you liked having your nipples sucked until he just … did it.

“F-fuck… me m-m..fuck me pl..please,” you breathed out, aching for some form of release. You had never needed it this bad in your entire life. It was starting to hurt from how badly you wanted him to fuck you. You wanted his girthy cock to stretch your holes and pump you with load after a load of his warm cum.

Kento didn’t have to be told twice. You found yourself now perched on the side of the pool, dazed and horny as he pulled himself out to sit beside you. The concrete ground was hard against your ass but you weren’t on there for long. He grabbed you delicately and picked you up, cradling you close to his chest. It was almost familiar, leaning your head against his pecs as he walked over to one of the many couches on the patio.

“Out here…?” You murmured as he set you on your stomach, prepping a pillow underneath you beforehand.

You felt a large and hard hand rub a circle against your ass cheek, “I have a fence,” was all he said as he pulled down your swimsuit bottoms and tossed them to the side. You heard some shuffling then a warm and bulbous head pressed against your slit, “May I?”

“P-please,” you whined, bracing yourself for the stretch. Nanami put both hands on your hips and slowly inserted himself. He was gentle and careful, stopping every few seconds to check in to make sure you weren’t hurting. The way he filled you out made you almost cum then and there.

“I’ll start slow so you can adjust to th-” He had begun but you promptly cut him off with another whine.

“No… just go,” you turned your head to look at him with a pout forming on your lips, “I’m beyond ready, Kento.”

He blinked a few times, and an air of surprise hinted on his face. He hadn’t expected you to be so eager to be railed by his cock, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. Your stares were obvious from the beginning. You bit your lip and stared back at him, just waiting for him to begin.

Kento sighed and nodded, “Very well,” was all he said. He reached down, one hand on your hip and the other grabbing one of yours, “I’ll start now.”

He patted your hip and then began. You didn’t have time to brace yourself as he started rough. His hips snapped into your cunt and you felt his tip kiss your G-spot within seconds. You tensed and curled your back inwards, feeling the sensation grow with every thrust. Nanami was just a god at everything he did, easily fucking you as if it was second nature. His cock thrust in and out of you in perfect rhythm, plapping against your ass loudly. But you both didn’t seem to care.

“F-fuck!” You gasped, burying your head against the couch cushion, “A-ah.. I- mm ha- f-f-..fuck.” Not exactly a sentence but it was music to his ears. You couldn’t help it. You’d never been one to be loud typically when you were fucked, but this was different. There wasn’t any build-up and god was it just better. The fact he was going and going and going, without a care for how sensitive you were turned you on beyond belief.

Nanami’s hand brushed against your hip and pressed down at the small of your back, pushing your back from curling inwards to arching back again, “There we go… good girl. I want you to stay arched for me, okay pretty girl?” You whimpered and nodded a few times, looking back to see him intensely staring at your form. He rubbed small circles into your back and held you there, keeping you arched for his big cock.

He continued to fuck you, ramming his girthy length deep in your cunt, practically asking you to squirt down his shaft. And god you were so close to cumming. You hadn’t even noticed but Kento was getting close. You began to tell from how his thrusts got sloppier, or how his hand pressed deeper into your back, forcing your arch lower and lower.

“Fuck…” He breathed out, leaning forward to rest his head against your mid back. You felt his ball smack against your cunt, with his body pressing down against yours as you two became one. He could tell you were close, muttering, “You’re going to cum… huh?”

You let out a loud moan as a response, with your hips jerking up. It felt so good to the point where you couldn’t control your bodily movements anymore. Kento sat back up, groaning and then stiffening. You didn’t realize what was happening until you felt a warm load shoot deep into your pussy, causing you to cum as well. Load after load shot into your walls and coated you in white, milking him completely dry. His hand pressed into your back again, keeping you arched as he rode out his high.

Kento slowly came to a stop, letting go of your hand to hold your hips delicately. He used his fingers to brush along the skin and rub small circles on the areas he grabbed or pressed too hard, looking you over with an intense gaze.

“I…” You slowly began, turning your head to glance sheepishly at your boss. He looked down at you, breathing quickly. He blinked a few times, with his expression softening when he began to read the tone of your face. “I should quit, shouldn’t I?” You murmured, eyes fluttering close.

The blonde let out a sigh followed by a breathless laugh, “I thought that was going differently,” he mused, before clearing his throat and adding, “I don’t mind if you quit as long as you stay in my house … with me.”

You opened your eyes, “Of course, Kento. Of course.

650 notes · View notes

luvhughes43 · 8 months

Text

you are in love | luca fantilli

[luvhughes43 masterlist🌷]

request: Loved the Luca fic! Can you write one with him based on “you’re in love” by taylor?

word count: 3.8k words

one look, dark room, meant just for you

time moved too fast, you play it back

buttons on a coat, lighthearted joke

no proof, not much

but you saw enough

you weren’t drunk enough to truly enough the frat party luca had invited you too. you were chatting with a few girls from one of your classes, but your attention kept straying to your best friend of many years.

luca was undoubtedly your best friend. he was the reason behind a lot of your decisions - like committing to the university of michigan - and the reason why you struggle to talk to other guys at parties like these. because despite it all, you would always feel love for your best friend even if you couldn’t speak on that part out loud.

now of course you didn’t do everything for him but… sandbox love never dies. so when you discovered that michigan offered you a substantial scholarship… a school that your best friend coincidentally had committed to playing hockey for… how could you have turned it down?

“okay, and i swear the lectures never make any sense! like there’s no structure at all” the girls around you continue to talk but you were no longer paying attention. Luca had caught your eye, mouthing a quick you okay? from across the crowded room. you nod politely, and turn your attention back to the girls in front of you.

you're interrupted less than a minute later however when luca - grinning - taps on your shoulder. “you ready to go?” he asks, head so close to yours you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to.

“yeah just let me go grab my coat,” you reply, waving goodbye to your friends and taking hold of lucas hand so the two of you don’t get separated.

it takes a few minutes but you find your roommate gwen who was guarding your belongings for you, and you give her a quick hug before grabbing hold of all your things.

“are you guys leaving?” she asks, looking between you and your best friend with a knowing glint in her eyes.

luca nods and grabs your things from your hands. he has your purse slung around his shoulder and your coat held up for you to slip your arms into.

“yeah, luca’s tired” you joke, smiling back at him as you pull your arms through your jacket sleeves.

luca rolls his eyes and spins you around before buttoning up your coat for you. when he did things like this for you, you swore that it was impossible for your feelings to not be requited.

“tired of being bored because you ditched me, maybe!” luca smiles, your burgundy bag still sitting pretty on his shoulder.

“you're right, I should've known better! no party is fun without me,” your reply was meant to be taken as a joke but luca enthusiastically agrees with you.

“alright, well you guys drive safe! yn text me when you get back home. i might be late,” gwen says, her eyes catching on somebody in the distance.

“okay i will! love you, bye!” the two of you part ways, and luca immediately slips his hand back in yours under the guise of “not being separated…”

Small talk, he drives

coffee at midnights

the light reflects

the chain on your neck

lucas passenger side isn’t an uncommon place for you. everything about his car felt familiar. he had bought it used back in freshman year, and it was beat to all hell with the amount of hockey boys and trips it’s been through.

“hey, did you hear that rutger got a girlfriend?” luca asks about five minutes into the drive. car rides between the two of you were mostly in comfortable silence, neither of you needing to say much to enjoy your time together.

“no i didnt. is she nice?” you respond, letting your gaze shift from the dark streets in front of you to the boy beside you.

“yeah, i think you’d really like her,” the conversation falls flat after that. you can’t help but pay attention to luca. his grown out hair, the way his hand flexed around the steering wheel… how the light is hitting the chain hanging from his neck just right.

with all the years you’ve spent with luca, you’ve never once got tired of the sight of him. even when the two of you were back in toronto and he had braces with all the hideous band colours.

you would also never get tired of his company. it was all just so easy being with him like this. even though you wanted more, you thought that it always going to be enough to just be his best friend.

“do you want to get coffee?” lucas voice breaks through your thoughts, and your smile becomes impossibly wider. coffee at midnight - as strange as it sounds - became yours and lucas tradition ever since your first final season when the two of you were exhausted and in desperate need of caffeine. luca had managed to find the only coffee shop in ann arbor that was still open, and ever since then the tradition had continued.

he says, “look up”

and your shoulders brush

no proof, one touch

but you felt enough

luca was at your usual spot in less than ten minutes, parking the car and rushing over to your door to open it. which was another one of your many traditions. you had seen it in a romcom once, something so simple and yet so charming at the same time, and since then whenever he could luca would open your door for you.

“look up,” luca says, gesturing up to the sky adorned with hundreds of stars.

you look up, shoulders brushing against lucas when you feel the familiar rush of butterflies in your stomach.

luca looks down at you, a soft smile on his face as he appreciates you without you noticing.

you can hear it in the silence

you can feel it on the way home

you can see it with the lights out

you are in love

true love

you are in love

the coffee shop is quiet when you enter, and you order yours and lucas coffees to-go. while you're waiting, you catch lucas gaze on you and your cheeks heat up accordingly. you were so in love with him…

“i’ve got one sugar one cream, and two creams two sugars!” a barista calls out and you immediately grab your coffees.

back in the car luca asks you a question, “do you want to stay at my place tonight?” now, this wasn’t something unfamiliar for you two but every time he asked it still felt like the first time. it felt like how it did years ago, like giggles and blushes and unspoken feelings.

you easily accept, “yeah sounds good. i don’t have any of my things though”

“I bought you a toothbrush when i went to the store last week,” luca flashes you a smile.

“a little bit presumptuous huh?” you tease. whenever you’ve gone to lucas before it was always pre-planned. therefore there was no reason for you to leave any of your stuff at his place.

“oh i knew it’d happen eventually,” he jokes. “I know you love me,” luca smiles again and your heart races. could he know? has he known all these years?

when you don’t immediately respond, luca frowns. “you're my best friend… i’d hope you’d love me?”

you shake your head to rid yourself of your thoughts. “no, of course i love you. my best friend forever!” you sing, hoping that you’ve masked your feelings well. there was absolutely no way - even if there were multiple signs that luca loved you - that you were going to confess your feelings. you weren’t going to risk your many years of friendship on something that he may not actually feel.

yn to gwen: hey! there’s been a change of plans and i’m staying at lucas tonight. be safe tonight!

gwen: ok!!! you be safe too🤭

morning, his place

burnt toast, sunday

you keep his shirt

lucas sheets are cold, and you know that because you're tangled in them. you push your hair out of your face and sit up in bed, quickly noticing your best friend’s absence.

you let yourself adjust to your surroundings for a moment, before a whiff of something burnt reaches your nose.

“luca?” you call out, before getting out of his bed and making your way into the kitchen.

luca was standing there in his pajamas, trying and failing miserably to cook breakfast. he looks up at the sound of your voice, eyes trailing your body as he takes in your outfit.

“i’m loving the look,” he says, referring to his shirt and sweats you borrowed last night.

you roll your eyes, laughing lightly as you walk up to luca to assess the damages he's done to the food. “how is it that you’re 21 and don’t know how to cook?”

“aht! aht! aht! this is gourmet!” he gestures towards two messy plates.

“ah sorry!” you amend. “i wasn’t familiar with your work”

“yes! this is the great fantilli breakfast which i am proud to serve…” he passes you a plate and you smile up at him as you lean against his counter.

the two of you eat in silence for a while before luca pauses and looks up at you. “you should keep that shirt by the way,” he says, completely catching you off guard.

you wipe the crumbs from the corner of your mouth, “really?” you set your plate to the side.

“yeah it looks really good on you,”

you hum in agreement, twirling around in the kitchen so luca can see the full effect of his shirt. “i think i look really good in your car too!” you tease and luca sets his plate down.

“oh yeah?” he replies, smirking.

“mhmm think i might have to keep it,” you advance towards luca playfully, grabbing ahold of his hands when you finally reach him.

luca squeezes your hands, “sorry but the car comes with me,”

you pause for a minute, pretending to contemplate whether the car, luca included, was worth it. “i think… i can find a place for you!”

“oh you think?” luca laughs, breaking apart from your hold to tickle your sides.

“okay i know so!” you pant, trying but failing to break free from lucas grasp.

“hmm.. I don’t think i heard you…” he teases, not pausing from his tickling.

“okay okay! I want you and the car!” you yell, and when luca stops his attacks on your sides you fall against him. he wraps his arms around you and all of sudden you feel the butterflies from earlier float from your stomach and up to your chest.

he keeps his word

and for once, you let go

of your fears and your ghosts

luca drives you home later that afternoon. you're clad in his t-shirt and your jeans from last night, and for a moment you allow yourself to forget about your rules and to imagine what it’d be like if luca was really your boyfriend.

one step, not much

but it said enough

you kiss on sidewalks

you fight, then you talk

months go by and you two are still in the same positions that you’ve always been in - helplessly in love but too afraid to say anything.

it was graduation weekend, 4 long years of university long gone and so were your childhood years well beyond that. you hold luca’s hand comfortably as the two of you walk around campus one last time as students. the sun was setting, and there was nowhere else that you would rather be.

“remember first year when we were walking to the library and some girl came up to you and asked you for your phone number? did you give it to her? i can't remember anymore,” you ask mindlessly.

luca hums in acknowledgement, “yeah i remember. but no i didn’t give it to her,” he responds, squeezing your hand. “remember when that guy… what's his name? from the football team spilt his drink on your top at the first party we went to here?”

you snort, recalling the memory. “yeah, and then he asked me to dance”

“did you dance with him? i can't remember,” luca asks.

you lead luca forward, “no i didn’t”

the two of you send each other knowing glances but neither of you acknowledges the obvious truth between the two of you. you were both in love.

when you get to a crosswalk you pause and turn to luca. “remember in second when i was late for econ and i almost got hit by a car because i was running and didn’t look before crossing the road?” that was an awful day. everything had been going wrong but there had been one nice moment… luca had brought you dinner at the end of the day and the two of you sat together as you both ranted about how much harder second year was turning out to be.

luca doesn’t respond, and when you look up at him he blanks. “lu…?”

you hadn’t even realized that he was moving towards you until he kissed you. lips soft as they brushed against yours in an impossibly tender kiss. it lasts a few seconds, and when luca pulls away you sigh.

“wow…” “i’m sorry, i don’t know why i did that” you both speak at the same time, both of your tones are drastically different.

“oh” your shock was clearly evident because luca started back pedaling.

“like it was nice but i don't…”

“don't what…”

luca is the one to sigh this time and it’s not out of pleasure. “we’re best friends i shouldn’t have done that,”

at first you were hurt, but then you were angry. who cared if you were best friends? you felt so strongly about luca and now more than ever you knew he felt that same way. “luca-”

“no we don’t have to talk about this, really. it was a mistake and it won’t happen again,” he assures you, and your heart breaks. you nod silently, biting the inside of your cheek as you drop lucas hand and turn back to where you had just walked from.

“i think i’m going to head back now… it's getting kind of chilly,” you lie, just wanting to be free from luca.

luca starts to shrug off his sweater but you hold one of your hands up to stop him. “no, you should have it” he tries again but you still don’t let him give you his sweater.

you let out a weak laugh, thinking back to the time luca had given you his shirt earlier in the year. you had let yourself think that he liked you back… “i’m fine, thanks” is all you say before you start to walk back to your apartment. this time instead of holding hands, you're holding yourself.

weeks later this moment becomes insignificant to the both of you, but that doesn’t mean you still don’t reflect on it whenever luca shows any type of affection towards you.

one night, he wakes

strange look on his face

pauses, then says

“you’re my best friend”

and you knew what it was

he’s in love

graduation is long over now, and your first summer out of school treats you with kindness. yours and lucas friends had decided to rent a beach house along the coast of florida, and so for the past week you’ve done nothing but drink and lounge happily with your group of people.

rutgers girlfriend, you were quick to find out, was insanely nice and kind. the two of you had grown close, and so it came to no surprise that when luca spotted rutgers girlfriend outside, that you were close by.

“i’m headed off to bed,” luca says, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “just thought i’d let you know so you don’t go looking for me,” he jokes, pulling you into his side like any boyfriend would. except you werent dating, and the bed he was referring to was being shared between the two of you since there weren't enough rooms for everybody to get their own.

“okay, i’ll meet you in a bit,” you respond, breaking eye contact with rutgers girlfriend and turning your attention to your best friend.

“sounds good,” is all luca says before dropping his arm and sauntering back into the house. you wish your eyes knew better than to trail after him and yet… you couldn’t help but stare at his back muscles as he retreated. it was going to be a long summer…

when you crawled into bed that night, luca was already asleep. you stare up at the ceiling fan, wondering if you’d ever fall out of luca. it was getting too hard to love him.

luca always had some strange extra sense when it came to you. so it came to no shock that he had awoken shortly after you had laid down. you turned your head away from the ceiling and onto the brunette boy laying next to you.

“you’re my best friend,” luca mumbles, moonlight from the open window casting a soft glow onto his face.

“you’re my best friend too,” you reply simply, voice breaking slightly as you realize the weight of your words. best friends… it was all you were ever going to be.

“no, don’t be upset…” luca whispers, wiping away the tears that were rolling down your face. the genuine concern on his face made you want to cry harder. his first thought was always to protect you.

“i’m sorry,”

“no sorry,” he slurs, sleep catching up to him.

you don’t say anything in reply, opting for the silence to wash over the two of you once more. luca didn’t remember this exchange in the morning.

you can hear it in the silence

you can feel it on the way home

you can see it with the lights out

you are in love

true love

you are in love

once the trip is over you fly back to your family home in toronto. you busy yourself with work and childhood friends, and things start to become a new normal for you. now that you and luca weren’t living in michigan anymore, your hang outs became much more sparse.

or at least, until adam had a game against the leafs and luca had sent you tickets to watch the game with him.

you sat next to luca during the game, shoulders brushing and smiles exchanged. and you so desperately knew that even if neither of you could vocalize your feelings, there would always be love between you.

you two are dancing in a snow globe ‘round and ‘round

and he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown

and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

and why i’ve spent my whole life trying to put it into words

five years go by and you and luca are still close friends. though instead of midnight coffee and study sessions it’s a quick lunch and texts between work tasks.

tonight was different though, because you were being promoted at work and so you dressed up in your finest attire for the dinner being thrown in your honour. you had told luca all about it, and when you stood up in front of your colleagues and their spouses to accept your new position in the company, you were delighted to catch a glimpse of luca amongst the crowd.

when everything was over and done, you walk as fast as you can to luca. “lu you’re here!” you shriek, throwing yourself into his open arms. the two of you rock back and forth for a moment, completely enamoured with one another.

“of course I'm here! i'm so proud of you,” he smiles widely, never dropping his arms from around you.

“thank you for being here,” you mirror his smile, giggling slightly when you realize his attention is still solely on you.

‘cause you can hear it in the silence

you can feel it on the way home

at the end of the night luca drives you home instead of letting you take an uber. his car is much nicer now that he’s out of university, and you want to make a joke similar to the one from all those years ago… something about wanting his car and him, but you can't remember it properly enough to recite it.

you can see it with the lights out

you are in love

true love

you are in love

when you're parked, luca steps out first and rounds the front of his car. he opens your door as he did all those years before, and all the butterflies from years prior seem to find their wings again as they start to flutter. you’re in love.

“thank you,” you say as you step out of luca’s car. you look up at the night sky, to be pleasantly surprised by the amount of stars that rarely grace the toronto skyline. “luca look up,” you tug on his blazer sleeve.

when luca meets your gaze and looks up at the sky, he can only think of one thing. he’s in love.

“yn…” luca whispers just as you tilt your head to face him.

“luca…” you turn your body towards him, both of you are still standing right next to lucas car in your parking lot.

before you can doubt yourself, you’re leaning over and grazing your lips against your best friends. luca doesn’t pause this time, instead he pulls you closer to him as he deepens your kiss. you sling your arms around his shoulders, and his hand rests itself on the back of your head.

when you pull apart you're both breathing heavily. “wow…” “wow…” you both echo each other and luca leans his forehead against yours.

“i’m sorry if this is too soon but… i love you,”

you can’t help but giggle at his words. “lu we’ve been waiting for what seems like a lifetime,” you slip your lips back against his and pull apart much sooner than you would like. “i love you too,”

“good,” luca’s smile is breathtaking. “because i’m never letting you go again,”

you tighten your grip around his neck and you let your hand find its rightful place in the hairs at the back of his neck. “who says i was going to let you?” you hum. “i’ve waited way too long for this,”

luca’s lips are on yours again, and for a moment it feels like you can't breathe between the love coursing through your veins and all the butterflies. “way too long,” luca whispers as he pulls his lips away from yours.

you can feel it on the way home

you can see it with the lights out

you are in love

true love

you are in love

#luca fantilli x reader #luca fantilli imagine #luca fantilli blurb #luca fantilli fic #umich blurbs #umich imagine #umich fic

319 notes · View notes

y-rhywbeth2 · 10 months

Text

Random assorted stuff about the Forgotten Realms setting: For fic and roleplaying needs, or whatever. Brief stuff about language, "I'm going to kill everyone in this party except Wyll, who actually greets me like he lives in this setting," religion, magic, time and the calendar and holidays

The proper name of the world is Abeir-Toril, which translates to "the cradle of life" in an unknown long extinct language. It's abbreviated to Toril in common use. Fourth Edition decided that the Realms to retcon Abeir-Toril into being two sister worlds, Abeir and Toril, locked in orbit but not always connected so that it could force the Dragonborn in. *grognard voice* Even though there were ways to do that without literally blowing up the setting...!

You say hello by saying "well met." It's the default phrase and it's used all the time, despite only Wyll using it, for some reason.

Common is a trade tongue, simplistic so that it can be easily learnt for it to be spoken widely and understood by pretty much everyone. It is not much use for expression or for discussing complicated topics. Most people cannot read common if you wrote it down.

The language spoken in Western Faerûn (including the Sword Coast) is Chondathan, which is something like a romance language in structure. It is not unsimilar to common, but is more complex.

The majority of Faerûnian languages (including common and Chondathan) are written in the Thorass script.

Waterdeep is part of the Sword Coast North - also just called the North, and both Chondathan and the Northern language Illuskan are spoken there. Gale might speak both. (Illuskan is basically a Germanic language.)

Toril's inhabitants are polytheistic. The people worship all the gods who are relevant to their life: You pray to Chauntea for a good harvest, to Tymora for luck, to Waukeen for financial success, to Umberlee for safe sea voyages, to gods like Shaundakul and Selûne for safe travel in general... Generally you pray to the good and neutral deities for protection and help, and the evil gods in order to pacify them so they won't capsize your ship or have their priests sacrifice you or something. Some religious individuals also favour and worship one god above the others, not all of whom are clerics. Most of them are still polytheists, even clerics, and it's unusual for somebody to devote themselves to a god at the exclusion of all others. Apparently gods keep an eye open for undedicated mortals whose behaviours and beliefs align with themselves and often try to sway those mortals into worshipping them through dreams and omens and such.

All magic comes from the Weave (Mystra is the middleman between a god and their priest in this regard) and all magic is the domain of the gods. A ranger or druid must worship a nature deity who they receive their spells from, as paladins and clerics must serve a deity. Arcane spellcasters are not required to worship, and Mystra would only be allowed to cut off a mage in response to literally Earth-levelling degrees of stupidity, but many worship her by choice for similar reasons.

Days are 24 hours long. The equivalent to a week is 10 days long, and referred to as a "tenday" or, less commonly, as a "ride." Most people do not own clocks or other means of telling the time, and nobody really tries to keep track of an hour, mostly getting by through keeping an eye on the sky/light levels, as well as the activity of the people around them, and using habit and intuition.

In human lands (that is to say, pretty much all of Faerûn) the Calendar of Harptos is used. Twelve months long, 30 days in a month. It does weird leap year stuff with an additional five festival days between months, with the celebration of Shieldmeet occurring once every four years. January = Hammer - Midwinter/Deadwinter Day Feburary = Alturiak March = Ches April = Tarsakh - Greengrass May = Mirtul June = Kythorn July = Flamerule - Midsummer -Shieldmeet (occurs once every four years) August = Eleasis September = Eleint -Highharvestide October = Marpenoth November = Uktar - Feast of the Moon December = Nightal

Midwinter: Traditionally a day for making or renewing alliances between the nobility, who celebrate it with parties. If you're a commoner and you live in the North there are no parties and you call it "Deadwinter Day" and it's a day to hope your food stores hold out and that you don't freeze this year.

Greengrass is a festival to welcome spring. Traditionally, the wealthy gift flowers to the commonfolk who wear them or offer them for the gods relevant to summer (Lathander, sun god of renewal, for example)

Midsummer is about music and feasting and also pretty much it's valentines day, with betrothals and new courtships and dancing. If the weather is bad on Midsummer then that's a bad omen.

Shieldmeet is the leap day on the calendar. Traditionally rulers are to open their council to the common folk and listen to their voices on this day. Competition and tournaments (including ones for spellcasters) are a common feature in the festivals.

Highharvestide is, as the name implies, the harvest festival as the crops are all pulled in for winter. It's also the day travellers who haven't already left wherever they're staying leave before winter sets in

The Feast of the Moon is a holiday for honouring the dead and your ancestors.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #long post #lore stuff #i'm going to kill the small text function if it doesn't stop glitching out #i thought about doing some basic history and geography and then i thought about how long that would take #and went nah i'd rather jump off the roof than do that atm

157 notes · View notes

yayakoishii · 4 months

Text

Picture This | Balam Shichirou x Reader

Fandom: Mairimashita Iruma-kun

Pairing: Balam Shichirou x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre/Tags: Fluff

Summary: You find out about the kind and gentle Balam Shichirou and meet him with a proposition of your own.

A/n: I have known this demon for 3 episodes and I'm in LOVE;; so I basically got possessed by the sudden urge to write something for him. he's the kindest, the sweetest, the BEST TEACHER EVER 😭 I love teachers like him so much, this was very self-indulgent and kinda just me admiring him hehe... I hope you enjoy this short thing I wrote, even though there's a high chance that he might be slightly ooc since I haven't known him for longer than 3 episodes.

also available on ao3!

The chatter in the class was a low hum as everyone worked on their own worksheets that you had just printed out. The Apocalypse Test was close and as a new teacher at Babyls, you wanted your first results to reflect well. If the results were not good then that would mean you had to work harder as a teacher.

You were walking amongst the students, listening in on their discussions or aiding them in finding where the answer could be found in the textbook. It was an open book, open discussion worksheet solving session and you were pleased with how well the students seemed to be handling it without making too much noise. The abnormal class could be really serious about studying when they put their mind to it, huh?

The bobbing of a blue head caught your attention and you walked closer to Iruma's seat. As always, he was sitting between Alice and Clara but the three of them were referring to their own books. (Except for Clara; you were pretty sure the book in her hand had nothing to do with studying…) The book in Iruma's hand was one you had never seen before but it looked interesting.

"Iruma-kun?" You stopped in front of his desk and looked down at the book curiously. Said boy startled and looked up in panic until he realised it was just you. "Where did you get this book?"

"Oh!" He gave you a warm smile, the kind that always made you smile in return. "Balam-sensei gave it to me because I was… y'know… struggling to understand."

"Can I see it?" You asked, curiosity taking a hold of you. Iruma handed you the book and you leafed through it. Surprisingly, it was a picture book with really easy explanations. Whoever wrote it had your gratitude; these were the kind of books that made learning enjoyable and less daunting. You closed it and looked at the cover to check the author's name. "Huh? Balam Shichirou…? Balam-sensei wrote this book?"

"Yes!" Iruma beamed at you. "He made some of them especially for me."

"That's wonderful," you felt touched even though you had never met the man. When you had aspired to be a teacher, this was the kind of teacher you were aiming for. Somebody who helped even the students who were struggling to understand, from the basics so they could build a stronger structure of knowledge on it. "Is it easier for you to understand this way?"

"It is," Iruma admitted, shyly scratching the back of his neck. You smiled and lightly patted the top of his head, startling the boy a little.

"I'll keep that in mind for my next class," you said. "And while I'm grateful for Balam-sensei… Why didn't you tell me if you were struggling to understand my teaching, Iruma-kun? I would have adjusted for you."

You pouted at him so he knew you weren't seriously mad at him; just a little upset.

"No, no, no!" The boy panicked and shook his hands in a negating gesture. "That's not it, (y/n)-sensei!! I just didn't want to burden you because I was the only one struggling even with your easy explanations… I guess having it in written form like this just helps to remember what you've already taught."

"It's not a burden, Iruma-kun," you reminded him. "It's my job as a teacher to make sure you understand. If you don't understand something, that's my responsibility. If you're worried about being a bother to the rest of the class, you can always come to me after the classes are over to get a quick personalised lesson."

"Eh?" He looked surprised. "Wouldn't that take up your time, sensei?"

"If it helps my students then it's time well spent!"

•

After your classes for the day were done, you asked around the staffroom for where you could find Balam Shichirou. Kalego gave you the directions and you made your way to his office, curious about what kind of person he must be and how he would look. From whatever Iruma had told you, he already sounded like a kind person and a great teacher. You found the door and knocked on it before looking inside.

"Balam-sensei?" You asked. There was a demon with long white hair sitting on a table, writing something down, who startled at your voice. "Can I come in?"

"O- Oh, yes, please!" He seemed a little confused by your presence but you stepped in and closed the door behind yourself. There was an empty stool across the table so you sat down on it. "Um, (y/n)-sensei, would you like some Hell Grey Tea?"

"Oh!" You hadn't expected him to know your name. Suddenly, it felt embarrassing that you had never heard of him before this. "Yes, thank you for the offer, Balam-sensei."

He nodded and got up to make you some. He worked in silence so you took the time to look around his office. The shelves full of books were eye-catching and your hands were already itching to dig into them and read all the unfamiliar volumes. Your eyes drifted over to the book sitting in front of you that Balam was working on. Your eyes widened when you realised it was another picture book, this one on one of the battles that had occured some centuries ago. Your hands moved to check it before you could even think that it would be rude.

"Here you go– oh, you saw my book," Balam placed the tea just out of the way enough so that you wouldn't accidentally bump it. "Do you… like picture books, (y/n)-sensei?"

"Not particularly," you admitted as you skimmed through what was already drawn and written. "But I like to read so picture books are fun too! I suppose I never got much into them because my home was full of textual books and I liked those just fine so I never had any picture books as a kid. I may not know much about them, but this is really well-written, Balam-sensei! You draw so well too."

"Oh," the other demon pinked at your words as he took his seat. "Thank you. I'm glad you like it. I'm making this one for a student but you could borrow a different one if you're interested."

"Ah! That reminds me why I came here," you beamed at him, gently placing the book back where you had picked it up from. "I saw the picture book you gave Iruma-kun in my class today. Our subjects have a small section that overlaps so he was referring to the book you made for him and I couldn't help noticing it. It was truly so easy to understand and it gave me the idea that such a method would be helpful with other subjects too."

"Really?" He seemed surprised by your words but you could tell that he was also touched. "I would like to share them with all the students too, but for some reason, they keep running away when I try to show them my picture books."

"Ah," you leaned back when you realised that you had accidentally leaned over in your excitement. The other teachers in the staffroom had told you about Balam's reputation amongst the students. "I'm sure they would benefit from it. I could share your books with some of my students if that works for you, Balam-sensei. And, if you would be interested, I wanted to try making a picture book explaining my subject too. It's a huge task and I would compensate you accordingly for your time and efforts–"

"You…" If Balam had seemed shocked before, it was nothing compared to his face now. Although his mouth was covered by a metal mask, you could tell from how wide his eyes had gotten. "You want to… make a picture book… with me?"

"Only if you're interested!" You bit your bottom lip nervously. "I personally really liked your books and I thought it would be a great way to learn for the students who have a weaker or slower grasp of understanding. Since I'm not very familiar with the process, I thought it would be amazing if I could have the aid of your experience. I understand if it's a commitment that you don't have the time for, and there's no guarantee that it will work out but I would love to at least try it with you."

"I would love to," Balam uttered softly and even without seeing his mouth, you could tell that he was gently smiling at you with how his eyes curved just so. The sight made your heart unexpectedly quicken and you fidgeted in your seat, picking up the Hell Grey Tea you had forgotten about. "I didn't think any of the other teachers liked me much but I'm very happy that you thought of me when you wanted to try this out."

"I don't think they dislike you, Balam-sensei," you smiled from behind the cup of tea. "But I suppose people just get so caught up in appearances and assumptions. People who have much to hide seem dangerous at first glance and we don't take time to get to know them if we can help it. I admit I might have fallen prey to the same kind of thinking if I hadn't heard about you from Iruma-kun. I could tell you were a kind and wonderful teacher from the way he spoke about you."

Balam's eyes widened and for a second, you thought his eyes seemed glassy. You blinked and the light was gone but Balam's eyes were still the soft shape. Now that you took the time to study his face, you realised he was quite handsome. The thought made you accidentally slam your tea cup down on the table in panic and the ceramic broke, startling the both of you.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!!" You were flustered but you hurriedly tried to collect the pieces together without hurting yourself. "I'm so clumsy…"

"It's okay," Balam reassured you, coming over to your side to help you pick up some of the pieces. "I'll take them to the trash. Are you hurt?"

"I don't– oh, just a little it seems," you had a very tiny cut from a sharper piece you had picked up. It didn't hurt. You waved it off as you carefully put the pieces you had collected in Balam's large gloved hands. "Nothing to worry about. It will be healed in a day or two. I really am sorry for troubling you, Balam-sensei!"

"I told you, it's fine."

He carefully threw away the trash then returned to you with an ointment from his desk drawer. You had stuck the finger into your mouth to suck at the blood and stop the flow but it felt embarrassing when you realised that Balam was watching you. You hurriedly removed the finger and tried to find a cloth to wipe it off but Balam crouched in front of you and asked for your hand silently. You ended up placing yours in his and watched him carefully pat it off before putting on the ointment.

"Thank you," you blushed fiercely when he was done and still hadn't let go of your hand. In fact, he was now standing up and holding both your arms in his own; the proximity was making your heart beat unnaturally fast. "Um, Balam-sensei..?"

"Yes?" He asked, blinking down at your comparatively smaller form in his arms.

"Y- You can let go of me now," you mumbled. Your words made him stutter and he let go in a panic.

"I- I'm so sorry, I just tend to do that without thinking!" He was blushing too, embarrassed. Balam didn't want to make you uncomfortable after you had been so nice to him. For once, he was actually getting along with someone new. For that matter, you were the one to approach him first! Not to mention, he had found you really beautiful when he had first seen you in the staffroom, laughing at Dali's joke. You hadn't seen him then, but that brief memory flashed in his mind when you softly giggled.

The sound of your laugh made his heart skip a beat. Balam stared at you as you flashed him a warm smile.

"If you wanted to hold me, you could have just asked, Balam-sensei!" You beamed and opened your arms for a hug. "I don't mind you touching me. I was just surprised."

Oh.

Balam's hands twitched for a second, the same nervousness he felt when Iruma tried to touch him popping up. But this time, it felt a bit different. The nervousness in his stomach felt like those fantastical creatures called butterflies that he had read about. His heart seemed to be thumping louder than usual too.

It was only when his larger frame swallowed yours into a gentle grip that he realised. He could feel the outline of your smile against his bicep.

Ah, this was what they called a crush, huh?

°•❀•°

All likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

#welcome to demon school iruma kun #mairimashita! iruma kun #fanfiction #fanfic #balam shichirou #balam sensei #balam shichiro #balam shichiro x reader #balam shichiro x you #balam shichirou x reader #balam shichirou x you #balam x reader #balam x you #fluff #one shot

74 notes · View notes

drdemonprince · 7 months

Text

Cathy was so afraid. She couldn’t have the surgery without a designated carer. My name is in her medical records, I was to drive her to the hospital, get educated by her physical therapists, get her home, and see to her basic needs. If I was too ill to help, the surgery would be postponed, and it had already taken a full year to schedule. She’s been in bed since the summer of 2020, so the thought of postponement was unbearable. I drove her over an hour to the hospital early Thursday morning. My fever was gone, and I wasn’t coughing. It had been 6 days since my first symptoms. I wore a mask. The surgery before Cathy’s went over by three hours. Her surgeon looked totally drained when he stepped in the room. He said her surgery would be “very challenging.” It went super long too. The family waiting room was empty by the time he finally came in and told me, “It was difficult, but I’m quite pleased.” I went to Cathy’s room to find her free of pain and silly chatty from the anesthesia. I stayed, because a person just out of surgery should have somebody with them. Shouldn’t they? Oh, but the drive home! Dark and in a blinding rain! I was so stressed and scared. The hour drive seemed to last three hours. Lightning and howling wind greeted me as I dashed into the house. I had to grab some sleep and be back at 8:30 for physical therapy. Cathy panicked trying to walk in her walker. She couldn’t figure out which foot to use going up and down practice stairs. She’d say the correct foot out loud, then lead with the wrong foot and cry in pain. “That went super well!” chirped the therapist. “Let’s get you prepped for discharge!” I told Cathy I was going for lunch, but I found the charge nurse. “I can’t do this,” I said. “I’ve got to somehow get her into a truck with a high running board. Then I have to get her out and up four steps into her house. She’s not ready, and I’m scared.” The nurse (bless her heart!) called the therapy team, and they put their heads together. “Don’t worry,” she told me. “We’ll find some way to justify another night. Go get some food and rest. Everything’s going to be okay.”

a harrowing story from my buddy James Finn about growing older, fighting with flu and with gout, and still choosing to show up for a fellow aging, neurodivergent neighbor in need. It breaks my heart to read. I wish I could have been in western Michigan to help them. Real-life stories like these remind me that I need to upend the entire structure of my life to show up for people more.

50 notes · View notes

deada55 · 2 months

Note

Do you have any particular analysis on why Toki developed the strange hostile fetishes he has?

The good news is that most of the analysis is done for me! The ethics behind sex research in general is sensitive for obvious reasons, but it's generally supported anecdotally, popularly, and in the literature that some people who practice any elements of BDSM/fetish may experience beneficial integration of their traumatic healing and their sexual activities.

However, some of that literature focuses on the structure of BDSM (consent practices) being really important to that process or that experience... but that might not be the case for Toki. In Dethgov, it's not explicitly consensual. In that one interview, it might be, but who knows. I'm not here to talk about the ethics of all that. So, what else does Toki get out of that kind of freak?

My opinion is, which is informed by some ACTUAL BIG GIRL WORLD RESEARCH I'M HELPING WITH !!!!! YAY AND SLAY FOR ME !!!!, that it makes sense that Toki gets hard when he gets a ridiculous kind of power. When you don't feel limited by relationships, or social obligations, or even just fucking appropriateness/etiquitte, you can nut fast n' hard. Doing whatever you want with somebody, without YOU having to physically harm them to make them feel less than, especially when they come back for more. He's just hurting people with words and getting off on it. He really took the lazy way out: they have to do the humiliating thing (... repeatedly moving a stapler? I'm not kink shaming) while he gets to sit there and bark orders! Slay. Not being in control of his destiny, experiencing physical abuse, and then being the little brother of the band sets him up well to like giving absurd, dangerous, or embarrassing orders from time to time.

One fun factoid about BDSM dominants found by Weismeijer & van Assen (2013) was that they scored less on agreeableness on the Big 5 personality inventory (which is very famous; Extraversion, Openness, Neuroticism, Conscientiousness, and Agreeableness) versus controls... which is very Toki. Agreeableness is exactly what it sounds like; people who don't score high on it can be contrarians who freak out about shit and can be hard to pin down and make happy. Sounds about right.

#metalocalypse #toki wartooth

21 notes · View notes

entercarolinej · 3 months

Text

You Know My Ways, I Know Your Fears

Steve x reader | Stranger Things S3 | part 1 of ???

title from Go For It by Djo

Steve had figured out that Robin was gay. It was obvious by the tense, zoned-out way she reacted whenever an especially hot girl came into Scoops Ahoy to buy ice cream. Maybe not obvious to everybody, but Steve noticed things. He and Robin caught each other checking out a pair of legs in Nikes and a miniskirt and with a double take, a soft “oh?…Oh.” from Steve, and a breathless pause from Robin, he signaled his acceptance with a congenial nod and thumbs up. I mean, I get it, he thought. Nothing more had to be said–from then on, they developed a semi-sarcastic code of tongue clicks, raised eyebrows, and subtle smirks to indicate approaching ‘babes’. It made the dopey mall job tolerable. Sometimes they’d rate the customers from 1-10, bickering endlessly about each other’s taste in women. Steve’s heart wasn’t really in it but now that he had picked up on Robin’s secret, she was laying off him–a little–and it felt like maybe they were bonding.

When he was above his elbows in soapy water scrubbing ice cream drums, commiserating with Robin about the horrible, horrible uniforms, or doling out sticky, creamy scoops of cotton candy, mint chocolate chip, and USS Butterscotch, Steve felt almost normal. The monsters ripping through his every night’s dreams until he could smell their putrid breath, see the glint on their endless rows of lethal teeth, and feel their unearthly screams rattling every bone in his body didn’t feel as real.

Sometimes he was alone in the tunnels under the pumpkin patch, rooted to the spot, forced to watch the dim outline of a demogorgon barreling towards him until its faceless petals opened up and the last thing he’d see was them closing around his own head. Other times he’d be in the junkyard and somebody from the Party–Max, Nancy, or Dustin, Dustin, would be in the distance, about to succumb to the same fate. “STEVE! Help me! Steve PLEASE!” they’d scream, and he’d be sprinting as hard as he could but no matter how fast he forced his legs and lungs to move, he never got any closer and he had to watch his friends crumple under the brutal, silvery figure. Sometimes he was watching the pool through his bedroom window, body completely paralyzed, Nancy gone, as Barb was dragged into Hell, her fingers clawing against rough concrete. Steve dreaded sleep. His giant, lonely house had plenty of room for the nightmares to swoop in and find Steve. But at Scoops, sometimes, there was enough normal life happening around him that he could forget for a little while. Steve was grateful.

Your mall job was also an escape, but for totally different reasons. Starcourt opening was a reason to leave the house and think about something other than your family.

You knew most of your peers, despite their various responsibilities, carved out time for partying and thrill seeking on weekends, blissfully aware that any youthful mistakes could be laughed off or easily smoothed over within the structure of a family with a comfortable income and two functioning grown-ups. You couldn’t do that. You’d watch soaps with Mom in the evenings while doing homework, make sure she got her peppermint tea and her medication and her little comforts and routines that kept her tethered to reality, make sure Tews was fed and cuddled, and covertly stay awake until your brother returned home so that no matter what happened, there’d be someone to answer the phone and help fix whatever trouble he got into, just in case. It was enough. It had to be. If you didn’t, nobody would.

Summer was a good time to work. No school, so you could have more daytime hours without leaving Mom home alone too long. Starcourt Mall had been a highly anticipated employment opportunity at Hawkins High. Everyone speculated about the kinds and numbers of stores to be opened, the coolest places to work, the best jobs for hooking up, and the most valuable perks. First grab at the new releases at the music store? Rad. All the leftover popcorn and soda you could eat at the movie theater? Also rad.

You ended up in the major department store’s home goods section. Not sexy or cool, at all. Your co-workers were middle-aged women looking for something to keep them busy, and your customers were their counterparts who didn’t want or need employment but were eager to drop mind-boggling sums on opulent tablescapes for every possible new occasion. By the end of June, you already saw white stars and red stripes every time you closed your eyes. Even so, you had to admit to yourself that you liked the job.

“Sweetheart, I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of some glass candlesticks?”

The voice was a welcome interruption to the constant drone of Muzak in your ears. You looked over your shoulder from where you were tucking throw pillows just so in the wooden display rack into a smiling, beautifully made-up face.

“Oh, it’s you! I didn’t know you got a job here, good for you!” The woman stepped closer, her words gushing up and down as she bestowed an elegant, congratulatory shove on your elbow. A fresh floral perfume swept through your lungs, displacing the vaguely spiced waxiness that hung in the air from shelves upon shelves of every-colored candles and paper bags of potpourri.

“Thanks, Mrs. Wheeler. Yep, I sure did,” you responded, trying to tuck your hair away and straighten your puffy sleeves, a bit self-conscious in the presence of her perfectly curated and executed look. You particularly noticed her beautiful pair of chunky gold hoop earrings with pearls dangling below them and wondered if you could find a costume version somewhere that would look similar.

“This job must be so dangerous,” Karen Wheeler continued her amiable teasing. “I’m sure I could spend a whole paycheck here every day, and I bet you get to see all the new stuff before anybody!”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You smiled. “They send us pictures of how the new displays are supposed to look, and it’s pretty fun to get everything all set up just right. And Mom is definitely enjoying my employee discount,” you added with a wink, knowing just how to intrigue the target demographic of your place of employment.

“Ooh, I feel like I’m getting the inside scoop!” Karen giggled, before concern washed over her cheerful features. She hesitated, then added in a more serious tone: “How is Claudia these days?”

You bit back a sigh. “Aw, thanks for asking. She’s doing well, keeping busy with the garden and training the cat!” you said, with a flat brightness.

“Ah, that’s great.” Karen said, nodding, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, as she stared into yours for a little too long.

“Yeah, um, how are your kids doing? Is Nancy going to get a job at the mall, too?” You pivoted, casually going back to reorganizing and fluffing throw pillows.

“You know, I think I’m just going to have to be jealous of you and your mother with that employee discount! That girl can’t think of anything else but the paper,” Karen said, with an appeasing wink. You felt a familiar twinge of envy for Nancy, the girl who could do anything she wanted, neither caring nor needing to worry about how her family would fare.

Perhaps Karen noticed the slight stiffness settling between you. She picked up a throw pillow and began to awkwardly knead it between her jeweled, manicured fingers. “You know, I have to tell you, that little brother of yours is really something,” she confided.

You relaxed a little. “Oh boy, I hope he behaved himself at your house for that last sleepover.”

“Oh goodness, you know they can all act like such wild things together,” chuckled Karen. “Ted moans and groans, but you know, I like having them all around. Keeps me young! But that Dustin, I mean, he’s always so sweet to my little Holly. I think she’d rather have him for a brother than Mike.”

Your customer service smile became a true, fond smirk. “Dustin’s a great kid. But don’t tell him I said that!”

Karen laughed conspiratorially with you, tapping her nose, then pointing at you.

“Oh! Um, you asked about glass candlesticks. Actually, I just put a new shipment out this morning before we opened, I think you’ll have first pick! Just over there, around the back of that candle kiosk,” you directed.

“Yes, yes, thank you sweetie! It was great catching up with you, and please give my mother your best.” Karen patted your arm and moved away to continue browsing.

You liked these little run-ins with the parents of your peers, probably more than you should. Grown up conversations were easier to navigate than fellow teenage ones. It helped to pass the time at work. Occasionally, as you rang up their purchases and carefully wrapped them in endless sheets of shiny tissue paper, you’d be asked to babysit one of the younger girls like little Holly or Erica Sinclair. You always accepted, gratefully, as long as they promised not to be out too late.

Maybe you had a little too much in common with the mothers of your little brother’s friends. You knew they would murmur to each other when they thought you couldn’t hear. You were labeled things like “such a nice girl,” “so mature,” “an old soul.” You knew that was all code for “one of the most boring high schoolers to ever exist.” And that probably wasn’t wrong.

Your kind of “fun” was a brief stop at Scoops Ahoy after your shift at the department store. Normally, you’d have to head home and make sure Mom and Dustin ate something, but with Dustin away at camp, you didn’t feel so rushed. You’d always had a sweet tooth and the USS Butterscotch was nothing short of a flavor revelation. It didn’t hurt that Steve Harrington would greet you by name and you’d get a glimpse of his uniform. How could a cheesy sailor suit look so stupid and yet so cute, you always wondered. Maybe because it felt like it leveled the field a little, and a guy surviving a little involuntary humiliation with good humor was...attractive. You were a wallflower, not blind.

You wondered if maybe you’d thought to apply here instead of the department store, would that be you in a coordinated sailor suit, slinging banter like scoops of ice cream with Steve? Behind her band-nerd smartass school persona, you knew Robin Buckley was bubbly and funny and you tried to convince yourself you weren’t jealous of how much time she got to spend around Steve.

Why can’t that be me? you’d wonder. It came so easily to other people, the casual insults, brushes of physical touch, and flying innuendos that seemed totally naturalized between good friends but utterly foreign to you. You knew that Steve and Robin had never been close before, but you watched them work side by side, communicating in shoulder shoves, hand grabs, and muttered barbs of dingus or dipshit that weren’t supposed to be overheard by customers.

You wished you had that kind of mutual affection and security with somebody. Being a high school student moonlighting as a single parent was lonely. As glad as you were that nobody could describe Dustin as lonely, you had to admit it was confusing and even painful to see even him enjoying a mysteriously close, nearly co-dependent friendship with someone whose breezy popularity you had once envied so much, none other than Steve Fucking Harrington. It defied explanation.

Dustin’s entire friend group, actually, had become deeply mystifying. He’d always been close to Mike, Will, and Lucas, which was normal enough, but now they had added in two girls their own age–one the daughter of the chief of police, the other stepsister to the local bad boy–and, for some reason, Mike’s older sister Nancy, Will’s older brother (and Nancy’s current boyfriend) Jonathan, and Nancy’s ex, the same former King Steve of Hawkins High. He’d lost his crown around the same time that relationship ended; it had seemed…messy.

Nobody had bothered to fill you in on the specifics. You suspected Dustin knew more than you since he and Steve had become glued at the hip around the same time, but you also knew it wouldn’t occur to him his intel could be interesting to you and you didn’t want to admit you were curious. You also couldn’t bring yourself to ask the main question: what the hell do you all talk about every damn weekend? You’d watch Dustin dive into Steve’s car multiple nights per week, it felt like, with some combination of the other kids along for the ride, and they’d be at the Byer’s or the Wheeler’s or even Steve’s mansion for hours.

Surely, there was no way that Steve and Nancy had suddenly become amicable exes who were really invested in Dungeons and Dragons.

The mall had only been opened for a week or two when it happened. You’d opened at the department store, as usual, so you were off for the day by mid-afternoon. Reluctant to leave the glossy, air-conditioned walkways for the rapidly sweltering outdoors, your feet wandered slowly past the still-pristine window displays. In a concession to self-indulgence, you allowed yourself to relish a little excitement for the interaction you had looked forward to all day. The next moment, you shoved those feelings down as just butterflies. No.…social anxiety. Yeah, Steve was cute, and it was an unexpected perk of being Dustin’s older sister that he even knew your name at all, but reading anything further into your new ice cream habit would be pure delusion.

Stepping into Scoops Ahoy was a full-body sensory experience. By this time of day, it was lousy with energetic children dribbling cream-coated sprinkles on every surface. Hornpipe music blended manically with their shrieks. A cloud of toasty waffle cone and pure sugar wrapped around you so thickly you could already taste it with one foot through the door. And, behind the counter, the boy whose slouchy scowl and sailor cap couldn’t detract from his prettiness.

You forced yourself to glance around casually at the striped blue-and-white walls with faux portholes and globe sconces as you waited in line, the last in a small rush, pretending to admire the nautically committed decor instead of staring at Steve. Your ears, however, strained to catch his inane customer service interactions.

“Oh, sorry, we’re out of cotton candy…yeah, no, a lot of people like that one. Uh huh…..cup or cone? Ok so three large……that’ll be $3.75. Thanks, man.”

You hoped they weren’t sold out of your flavor.

Willing your voice to be cool and casual, you stepped up to the counter and steeled yourself to meet Steve’s heart-melting brown eyes, to watch them crinkle again with recognition and a friendly smile, before shuffling quickly through the transaction and moving on to the next girl. Instead, a fully stuffed ice cream cone suddenly popped up with a flourish into your field of vision, clutched in a large, golden-tan hand and connected by a well-toned arm to a bright royal blue sailor uniform.

“USS Butterscotch in a waffle cone, right?” Steve winked at you. You startled.

“Uh…I…”

“Oh, shoot, were you going to order something else? I can, uh…” He looked side to side, as if for somewhere else to offload the cone. His cheeks went a bit rosy.

“No! I mean, yes, that is, uh, that’s exactly what I wanted…um…” You scrambled frantically for your wallet, not having expected to need it for another moment or two.

“Wait, uh, don’t worry about it. The guy before you gave me a five and told me to keep the change, which just happens to cover you.” Steve held out the cone further, looking slightly regretful.

“Yeah, dingus, that was supposed to be a tip for us to split,” drawled Robin, appearing over Steve’s shoulder and giving him a shove.

“Shut up,” Steve grimaced at her, easily regaining his balance.

Wallet stashed back in your bag, you reached gingerly for the cone, trying to avoid a drip already running down towards the paper wrapper. In doing so, your fingers brushed against Steve’s as he carefully released it into your grasp. Smooth, warm, strong. Your stomach jolted.

“Thanks, but I don’t want to take your tips.” You looked at Robin, her expression transitioning from annoyance to something else. Curiosity, maybe. You wondered, not for the first time, about her and Steve.

“Jeez, no, don’t worry about it.” Steve gestured dismissively at Robin, flicking a glare in her direction and then capturing your eyes again with that friendly smile you had been looking forward to. He leaned over the counter with two widespread, subtly flexing arms. “Hey, uh, did Dustin make it to camp okay?”

You gently twisted the paper wrapper of the cone between your fingers, catching a drip or two with your tongue before they could land on your clothes or the floor. At Steve’s question, your eyebrows shot up and you lowered the cone from your face.

“Oh yeah, he was able to call us the first night. He sounded pretty happy. I guess there are more girls there than he expected.” It was your turn to grimace a little. Thinking about Dustin and girls was fairly new territory.

“Girls at science camp, huh? Who’da known!” Steve raised his eyebrows and nodded, his mouth twisting down in a look of mild surprise. He was interrupted by a scoff.

“Women? In science? It shouldn’t be allowed! This simply won’t do!” Robin gasped, her old-timey scandalized affect perfectly conveying deep, sarcastic disdain for Steve’s comment.

Steve’s face tightened and his eyes widened with exasperation. You couldn’t hold back a tiny snicker. He glanced at you, quickly, looking a bit…wounded? That sobered you immediately.

“Yeah, well. I guess Dustin is going to need to put whatever advice you gave him to good use,” you offered, trying to be conciliatory. “Thanks again for the ice cream, you didn’t have to do that.”

Steve sighed, still clearly irked by Robin, but gave you an effortlessly sharp two finger salute and the tiniest smile. Pretty.

You stepped carefully around tables and sticky spots on the floor as you left, fighting the urge to turn back and watch as Robin began to berate Steve again. Maybe that’s what he really liked in a girl, somebody who constantly teased and riled.

“Advice? What kind of advice did you give her poor brother? Let’s take a look at the data–”

Out the door, you couldn’t help glancing back through the large glass window at Robin’s smirk, gesturing to a whiteboard with a small handful of scribbled tally marks. Whatever it was didn’t seem like official ice cream business. Steve had one hand on his hip and the other tangled in his hair, his hat suddenly missing as if he’d knocked it off to do so. But what surprised you was that his eyes were, for half a second, on you, too.

You remembered the night, a few months back, that Steve had admitted to giving Dustin romantic advice. One day in February, Dustin smugly told you Steve Harrington was coming over for dinner and to watch Doctor Who with him.

“Are you sure he even wants to come over?” You interrogated your brother. “I like to watch Doctor Who with you but I gotta say I really don’t see it being something he’d like.”

“You are correct, but that’s exactly why he has to watch it. I’m giving him a nerd culture education. He doesn’t even know the differences between Star Trek and Star Wars.”

“What if he hates it?”

“He will. It’s gonna be great.”

“...okay, so why on earth did he agree to come?”

“Because Lucas is going to quiz him this weekend. Also, I don’t think he likes being around his parents.” Dustin continued, casually burying the lede. “They just got back from one of their trips and he said he was planning to go bowling or something by himself so he didn’t have to see them. I guess his dad’s an asshole–”

“Dustin–”

“So I told him to come here instead because you and mom won’t mind, and I wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Your brother continued, knowing you didn’t really care about his language despite the occasional gesture at propriety.

Secretly, you still wondered if Dustin had some kind of weird blackmail on Steve, but you were getting used to the fact that he was apparently unable to resist your brother’s immense capacity for persuasion. Your brother was a total dork but you knew he was also perceptive and deeply empathetic, even towards top-dog hot-shot seniors without any apparent reason to give him the time of day.

Day of, you thought a little harder than usual about what outfit you wanted to wear, finally settling for your trendiest pair of jeans and that top you knew brightened your skin and your eyes. You teased your hairdo with extra care and squandered a swipe of your favorite lip gloss.

You sort of hated yourself for doing it, seeing as you knew Steve didn’t think about you at all and you didn’t want him to. But you also weren’t going to blend into your frumpy house if you could help it, for your dignity’s sake.

Steve arrived promptly, in one of his signature striped polo shirts with an expensive-yet-casual jacket. He ruffled Dustin’s hair and looked you and your mother both in the eyes as he removed his jacket, clearly feeling awkward. “Hello, thank you for having me.” Anxiety, not butterflies.

Tews, a deeply suspicious cat, made himself scarce.

“Steve, dear, we are so glad to have you. Dusty’s been so excited,” began your mom, eliciting a groan from her son.

“Oh come ON, can we just eat already? I have SO MUCH backstory to explain to Steve!” He took Steve’s jacket, flung it on the coat rack, and hustled you all through the kitchen into the dining room, where Dustin’s requested lasagna was already on the table with your good company plates.

You guessed that Steve was used to much nicer tableware and house furnishings, and you watched guardedly, waiting for him to scan the whole room and clock every imperfection. Instead, he seemed shy and grateful, like the atmosphere was somehow making him feel inadequate, not the other way around.

He caught you looking at him and cleared his throat. “Uh, thank you for cooking dinner. Dustin told me your lasagna is awesome.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s, uh, it’s mostly just opening the box of pasta and the jars of sauce,” you hedged.

“She’ll NEVER reveal her secret!” The whole house was Dustin’s voice as he scooped an enormous hunk out of the dish and hefted it over to Steve’s plate. You thought you saw the older boy wince and his eyes flash towards your mother as sauce and cheese splattered onto the floral oilcloth covering your table. Your mother was entirely preoccupied settling herself into her chair with a contented sigh.

You cringed a little, your own eyes flicking across Steve’s shirt to see if Dustin had splashed his clothes, but you didn’t think so. Then you realized you didn’t care if he had. You knew Steve must have dozens of those shirts filling his closet at home.

By now, the remaining three plates had also been laden with sloppy layers of lasagna and Dustin had taken his seat across from your mom at the little round table. He was digging in, chewing with his mouth a little more open than you’d prefer, and grinning to his right at Steve, who slowly picked up his fork, checking to make sure you and your mom were doing the same.

You braced yourself for Steve to pick around his plate, perhaps make excuses about a late lunch–not because you cared if he enjoyed his dinner, but because you didn’t like the idea of any judgment whatsoever coming down on your little life. Steve had traveled, stayed in expensive hotels, and eaten at famous restaurants. The Harrington ski weekends and summer trips to Europe were common fodder for envious school gossip. You knew your house, your food, your family were simple in comparison, but you didn’t want to be reminded through Steve’s eyes.

“Okay, so. The Doctor is a member of a highly advanced alien species called Time Lords.” Dustin launched into a grand narration about time travel; camouflaging, auto-translating spaceships; and intergalactic conflicts–all of it necessary, in his view, to induct Steve into the lore of his favorite show. His messy fork stabbed vigorously through the air, accompanied by sputtered sonic screwdriver sound effects.

Steve nodded and glanced between Dustin and his own plate, eating neatly and humming comprehension and agreement, raising his eyebrows to indicate shock and awe at the appropriate twists and reveals (“Bigger…on the INSIDE”). You thought you maybe caught the tiniest of eyerolls from time to time, which made you want to smirk. Interacting with Dustin in this mode was notoriously painful but Steve was putting up with it admirably. Again, why?

You also had to notice that the food was disappearing rapidly, and not just from Dustin’s plate. When your brother finally had to stop and catch his breath, Steve looked at you and earnestly said, “This lasagna is…outrageous.”

“I TOLD you so!” Dustin sounded more proud of his own accuracy than your cooking chops.

“She takes such good care of us.” Your mother beamed, an unusual twinkle in her eye. “Dusty and I are lucky to have her. Quite the chef!”

“Yeah.” Steve agreed politely.

You felt your cheeks warm. Dustin’s friends always liked your food, but those dinners had never ended with your mom awkwardly wingmanning you to a guy who would never even glance your way at school. NOT butterflies.

“I’m glad you like it.” You acknowledged the compliment a bit stiffly, wondering if Steve and Dustin were expecting you to all get along and chat, or if they were just being polite for the duration of the meal.

Dustin glanced at the clock and let out a yell before shoveling his last few bites into his mouth. “It’s starting soon! Gotta finish up!”

Now Steve was fully laughing at him. “Dude, we’ve got a few minutes. Don’t choke yourself.” He stood and began stacking dishes and silverware. You reached for his pile, but he pulled them away. “No, it’s okay, I can wash up. It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh no, dear, you’re our guest! Go settle in.” Your mom waved him off, taking the stack with her into the kitchen and filling the sink with water. You followed her with the leftover food and started putting it away while Dustin swiped at the tabletop with a rag.

“Are you sure? I really don't mind.” Steve looked unsure of what to do with his now-empty hands, first crossing them, then moving them to his hips, then running one through his thick, shiny hair. It was clear you three Hendersons had a well-established routine for dividing up the tasks and weren’t prone to disruptions.

Dustin finished cleaning the table and grabbed Steve by the shoulder, shoving him in the direction of the tv room. “Alright, let’s go, the TARDIS awaits!”

“Easy there, di–uh, Dustin.” Steve stood his ground and gently shoved back, still looking to you and your mom for orders.

“Yeah, thanks, but don’t worry about it. I’ll just let it all soak right now and turn on the radio later,” you said, trying to process the fact that Steve Harrington had just offered to do your dishes.

“You go on, too, sweetheart. Don’t miss your show with Dustin! I’ll just get the dishes out of the way now before I head to bed.” You flushed again at your mom’s revelation that you, too, were invested in Doctor Who.

“Are you sure, mom? Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh, I’m just fine. Go relax,” she insisted.

You followed Dustin and Steve into your living room as the credits and theme song came on. Dustin jumped into your mom’s chair and pointed at the end of the couch closest to the TV, which Steve hesitantly took. You slowly sat down on the opposite end, nearest the kitchen. Having finally decided the evening’s intrusion to be non-threatening, Tews joined Dustin in the recliner.

“Is that Doctor Who?” Steve pointed at the first character that appeared on the screen, an alien with a mask of goopy rubber tentacles.

“No dipshit–”

“Language,” Steve chided mildly, glancing your way. “How about him?” This time it was a humanoid.

“No. Like I was explaining earlier, there is no ‘Doctor Who.’ Just ‘The Doctor’.”

“Okay, so they made a whole show about a guy who doesn’t even have a name?”

“He does have a name, he’s a Time Lord, he’s called The Doctor. It’s not complicated.”

“But ‘The Doctor’ isn’t a name, that’s, like, a title. You can’t just be ‘The Doctor’. He should be Doctor Somebody, otherwise you’d get confused with any other doctor on the show. Like ‘oh, hey, we need a doctor! But wait, what doctor? Doctor who? …Oh…”

Dustin’s eyeballs looked like they were going to pop out of his head as he glared at Steve condescendingly. A giggle leapt out into the silence, despite your best efforts.

“Yeah, okay, I heard it.” Steve grumbled and quieted down.

Between the distractions of Steve Harrington on your couch and the gentle clinks and splashes coming from next door in the kitchen, you really weren't paying attention to the show how you normally would. You were worried about your mom. Evenings were usually hardest for her, and it was about the time she’d be going to bed. You knew she had exerted herself more than usual today, tidying the house and gardening in the yard. She liked these domestic tasks but they took a lot out of her.

The sound of shattering glass and a yelp sent you bolt upright onto your feet. Dashing the couple of steps to the kitchen, you found your mom on her knees. Shards from a drinking tumbler sparkled around her. You paused for a half second to determine the clearest path across the floor only to feel a tall form making contact with you from behind unexpectedly, nearly knocking you over.

“Jeez, oh gosh, sorry, I’m so sorry,” Steve, apparently not having expected you to stop, reflexively grabbed your arm and the counter to steady himself and you. “Are you okay, Mrs. Henderson?” Warm, strong.

Your mom had slid to the floor, her back against the lower cabinets, with her eyes closed, breathing shallowly. You pulled away from Steve and gingerly stepped over to crouch by her. “Hey, mom?” She gave you a pale smile and gestured limply to the broken glass as you gently rubbed her back. “Butterfingers.”

You smiled back, then turned to Steve, anxious to handle the situation without his participation.

“I’ll clean this up and help mom to bed. Go back and watch with Dustin, he really wanted to spend time with you.” You silently prayed Steve would obey, despite the concern on his face. He could tell something wasn’t right. “Go on!” You knew your tone was closer to urgent when it should have been casual, but Steve slowly nodded and rejoined Dustin in the tv room.

Ignoring the sense memory of Steve’s fingers wrapped protectively around your elbow, you bent closer to your mom, seeking eye contact. “Mom? Mom? Talk to me.”

“I…I…I can’t…I need…” Her breaths were coming quicker and quicker and sounding raspier and raspier until they transitioned into low sobs, her shoulders shaking.

“I know, mom, I know,” you soothed, like she was a young child. “It’s been a long day. Let’s get you all cleaned up and get some rest.”

Mom’s chest continued to heave as you slowly helped her stand up, checking her hands and knees for any cuts or stray bits of glass. That’s when you saw her palm bleeding, smearing red on her sleeve as she wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s okay, you’re okay. It’s just a little cut. I’ll get you all fixed up.” Your voice was low and slow, and you continued to rub her back, helping her over to a chair.

“Hey, is mom…?” Dustin appeared at your side, Steve hovering a step or two behind him, both trying to step around the glass.

“Yeah, just…” you made a shoo motion at both of them. “I got it.”

Steve found himself again in front of a show he couldn’t be bothered to understand, trying to make sense of what had unfolded in the kitchen. He knew his experience with his own mom was not…normal, but despite how different your household was to his own, this didn’t seem normal, either. His ears, nearly completely tuned out from the TV, strained to follow along as you treated and bandaged your mom’s hand, helped her take some pills, made her a cup of tea, and helped her down the hallway to bed.

You returned, scooping up Tews from Dustin’s lap. As you carried him away, Steve could barely make out, under your breath “Come on, buddy, mama needs you…” He could hear your mother’s low, panicking sobs rising and falling and your voice soothing and shushing, until eventually all was quiet from the direction of the bedrooms. Eventually you came back to the tv room, lips pressed together in a forced neutral expression, and grabbed your coat, shutting the front door behind you.

When the episode of Doctor Who ended, Steve and Dustin both got up and headed for the kitchen.

“Um, where’s your broom?” Steve asked. Dustin opened the broom cupboard and handed it over, picking up a dustpan and brush for himself. They carefully cleared the glass away, examining the floor closely for any glint that could mean a hazardous shard left behind.

“Thanks,” said Dustin, as they put the cleaning tools neatly back in position.

“Yeah, of course.” Steve nudged Dustin casually. “Safety first, my little friend.”

“I’m not a child.” Dustin rolled his eyes.

“Uh huh. That’s exactly what a child would say.” Steve shook a warning finger in Dustin’s face. “You can’t fool me with your fancy sci-fi tv show knowledge. I’m the one keeping you out of trouble. In fact, you’re just like those guys in that show needing to be rescued all the time, which, yes, admit it, that makes ME Doctor Who.”

“Oh, my GOD. Just go HOME already. Why do I even bother,” Dustin groaned. Steve smirked triumphantly, ruffled Dustin’s hair, and glanced towards the back of the house.

“Is…is your mom…alright?” he said, his voice much quieter.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, well, yeah. You know. She’ll be totally back to normal in the morning.”

Steve didn’t know, but Dustin seemed to feel he’d answered the question, so Steve grabbed his jacket, said goodnight and stepped out onto the porch, which is how he nearly fell over you for the second time that evening.

“Oh, sh–jeez–uh, I’ve gotta stop doing that!” he gasped, catching his balance.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You had been seated, motionless, on the step, in the warm glow of the porch light, staring out at the chilly darkness. You loved the tall, tall trees circling your house, the only things visible between you and the stars. Now, you turned expectantly to face the tall boy on your porch, waiting for him to scoot past you towards his BMW and take off. “The show is over?”

“Yeah.”

For some reason, Steve didn’t seem in a rush to leave. Then you remembered: his parents. What must that be like, trying to avoid your mom and dad as much as possible? You had a weird feeling that he had a good reason; he didn’t seem like your typical rebellious, angsty teen.

“Um, whatddya think?” you asked, picking at your thumbnail.

Steve gave you the same earnest look from earlier when he had complimented your lasagna.

“Not really my thing.”

You had to laugh. “It’s not for everybody, I guess.”

“You like it?”

It was your turn to repay the earnesty. “Yeah…I do. I know the costumes and makeup and everything are pretty goofy, but I think it looks like the people who made the show had a lot of fun doing it. And I like how the Doctor always tries to save everybody, no matter what.”

Steve thought about that for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I haven’t really seen other shows like that.”

He slowly sat down alongside you on the porch step, leaving a couple of feet between you. You became deeply focused on a bundle of pine needles that had found its way into your hands, snapping them apart into smaller and smaller pieces. You’d never get tired of that scent. Its sharp tingle was a helpful distraction from the warm and boyish smell you couldn’t help but notice lingering around Steve. For a couple of minutes, the only sounds on the porch were little exhales of breath as they formed twisting clouds escaping from your lungs into the night.

You could feel that Steve had something to say long before the words left his mouth. He struggled to shape their meaning into something you could accept.

“I’m…sorry, about your mom,” he finally tried.

You didn’t reply, still attentively snapping pine needles.

He continued. “I don’t really…well, I mean, Dustin hasn’t really said much about her, to me anyway.”

You knew why. There wasn’t an easy answer, or a short story. Mom was complicated. Usually you and your brother just pretended things were normal, or close to it. Dustin’s other friends were used to her, but you knew it had been obvious to Steve that something wasn’t right. He was looking at you with genuine concern, not just curiosity. You let the night sounds fill out a long pause before you responded, your words slow and careful.

“Dustin should just get to be a kid. I don’t want him to worry about her, or anything like that.”

You were surprised to hear yourself open up to Steve, of all people, but even more surprised to see his eyes cloud over instantly when you said that. He looked troubled, and also just…sad. Maybe even scared?

Steve composed himself quickly, giving a forced laugh. “Man, he’s really something. I think the only thing he’s worried about is whether or not I can talk nerd shit with him.” Why did it sound like Steve was trying to comfort you?

You paused too long for another joke to feel natural, and you hadn’t thought of a joke anyway.

“Thanks for spending so much time with him. I think it’s really helping him, even if I have…no idea why you guys are even friends.” You were back to studying your broken bits of pine needles.

Steve’s laugh was heartier this time. “I...wish I could tell you.”

You looked over at him, trying to read his expression. That was when you noticed that after you left, he must have unbuttoned his polo shirt to get comfortable while watching the tv show in the warmth of the house. Now, as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his partially bare neck and shoulder caught your eye. There was a distinctly darkish purple shadow on his skin, like the grip of a large, rough hand.

He saw your eye flick down. Automatically, a tiny shrug shifted the fabric of his polo and jacket over the shadow, and you wondered if you’d imagined it: a trick of the porch light, or the angle of his collarbone, maybe.

For a while, you both sat, quietly observing the night.

You sometimes felt your most peaceful at night, in the dark. If mom and Dustin were both in their rooms, and the dishes–oh shit, the dishes–and other chores were all taken care of, you felt safe. Nobody could see you, nothing could touch you. It would be hours before a new task had to be done or another well-meaning neighbor could pry into your family’s business.

Steve broke the silence with a sharp intake of breath. “Parent stuff is…hard.” He spoke out towards the trees, then glanced sideways at you, chewing his lip.

You nodded, staring at the ground between you, his gaze burning into the side of your face. Then, screwing your courage to the sticking point, you confronted him: “What did you mean, that you keep Dustin out of trouble, that you keep rescuing him?”

Steve looked a bit stunned.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, I’m sorry, you guys are just loud. Is he…doing anything? I need to know.”

“No! Nonono, no. Gosh, no, I swear, he’s a GREAT kid. Dustin would never–I was just–I mean–”

You met Steve’s gaze, and although his pleading words sounded fake, his eyes begged you to believe him. You cut him off, mercifully.

“Dustin isn’t in any trouble? Is he keeping any secrets from me?”

Steve shook his head vigorously at your first question and then paused a bit guiltily at your second.

“You know, I kinda just gave him some…girl advice. And then when it didn’t work out, I gave him more advice to help…fix it. I know you guys are close, and you do a lot for him, and he really loves you, but I guess it’s not really the kind of thing you talk to your sister about. Not that I’d really know, but, uh…” Steve trailed off, his eyebrows raised high above his large brown eyes and bemused smirk. He hoped his affect was casual and believable enough to shepherd the conversation into a lighter direction.

Dustin, looking for girl advice from Steve Harrington? This friendship made even less sense to you than it did a few minutes ago. But Steve had a point. And you wanted to believe that if Dustin trusted Steve, then you could, too. You felt warm and fuzzy thinking about how Steve let it slip that Dustin must have talked about you. It made you daring.

“Yeah, I guess not. Dustin’s lucky to be getting dating advice from King Steve.” Your eyes returned to the trees but Steve’s grimace was too obvious to be missed.

“He’s nothing like me.” This time, when you looked over, Steve’s jaw was set firmly, his eyes darkened, and he wouldn’t look at you. “Thanks again for dinner, it was amazing. Goodnight.”

Steve stood up and headed for his car, and as you watched him go you saw him pull a package of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket. You thought about calling out something about how he better not be letting Dustin smoke, but you thought better of it. Steve had seemed bothered by your King Steve comment and after seeing firsthand how much he cared about Dustin, you felt bad upsetting him.

The next morning, as Dustin had predicted, your mom was calm and cheery.

“Did you kids have a fun time with Steve?” She beamed from behind her cup of coffee, Tews curling around her feet contentedly.

“Yep.” Dustin was scrambling to shove bread into the toaster and pour himself OJ.

“He seems like a nice boy,” your mom prodded.

“Mmhmm,” you offered noncommittally to your own cup of coffee. Then, unable to resist teasing: “No idea what he sees in Dustin through.”

“He recognizes charm and intellect when he sees it!” Dustin protested.

“Maybe Dustin isn’t the only reason he came over,” your mother mused with twinkling, hopeful eyes.

“Mom–”

“HEY–”

Ignoring the protests of her children, she continued. “You aren’t seeing anybody and I don’t think he is either, right Dustin?”

“You are correct, but mom, seriously–”

You cut in. “Not happening, mom.”

“What would be so crazy about going on a date with him? You’re a beautiful girl, he’s a handsome, nice boy! You should go out and have a little fun!”

You gritted your teeth. Sure, you’d love to have a normal teenage life.

“She’s not gonna date Steve, mom. He’s a cool guy and everything but the last time he dated somebody, his friends got really sick and twisted about it. Remember the graffiti about Nancy last year?”

Your guts contorted in sympathy and dread at the memory, like a knot tightened with a sudden jerk. Nancy “The Slut” Wheeler. She had moved on and continued to hold her head up at school, but you were no Nancy Wheeler. If it had been you, tangling somehow with Steve and Tommy H. and Carol, you’d have either jumped into the quarry or left Hawkins for the closest nunnery. You didn’t even know the details of what had happened–it wasn’t like anybody really talked to you–but you felt pretty sure Nancy couldn’t have deserved it, especially not with the romantic reputation Steve himself had earned around school.

Even you knew about that. Yeah, dating Steve was off the table.

#stranger things #steve harrington #scoops ahoy #scoops troop #steve x reader #stranger things s3 #robin buckley

18 notes · View notes

paladinbaby · 2 years

Text

i feel like it’s potentially relevant i keep track of these all in a discord channel called nettle spiralling. family portrait of nettle nolastname

@july-19th-club / my nieces is probably the reincarnation of shirley jackson, cj hauser with notes / all about love, bell hooks / where angels fear to tread, e m forster / antichrist, the 1975 / elisabeth hewer / haunted epistemologies, laura westengard / letters to a young poet, rainer maria rilke / sam sifton / the anthropocene reviewed, john green

[Image Description: Ten pictures of text.

1: “simply cannot resist what i call the little mermaid or the tin man or the pinocchio plot, the one about a character who is either inhuman or human but outside in some way, constantly searching for whatever it is that they consider to be the quintessential proof of humanity, preoccupied by it so deeply that they fail to realise the proof is in the act and fact of the search itself”

2: “”What does it mean for the structure of your life to feel menacing? To be imprisoned within it? To feel like it might kill you?”

Haunting is an act of care, care is an act of haunting. Haunting is formed between the trauma, mothers inflict on their daughters.”

3: “We can never go back. I know that now. We can go for-ward. We can find the love our hearts long for, but not until we let go grief about the love we lost long ago, when we were little and had no voice to speak the heart’s longing.” The first three sentences are highlighted in red.”

4: “I seem fated to pass through the world without colliding with it or moving it - and I’m sure I can’t tell you whether the fate’s good or evil. I don’t die - I don’t fall in love. And if other people die or fall in love they always do it when I’m just not there.”

5: “And I swear there's a ghost on this island / And his hands, all covered in blood / And my wife inquired of understanding / But of course, my dear, you can't

She said, How can I relate to somebody who doesn't speak?/ I feel like I'm just treading water

Is it the same for you? / Is it the same for you?”

6: “I want to be eaten alive. I want / to feel wanted.”

7: “cultural anxieties and desires, allowing”for a whole range of specific monstrosities to coalesce in the same form.” The excesses of monstrosity and the hybridity of the living dead help visualize naturalized oppressive structures, making those structures uncanny and therefore intervening in the architecture of oppression. Both haunting and sadomasochism appear in queer thought as expressions of queer temporality that expose a particular type of traumatic temporality. Haunting manifests the swirl-ing, fractured, intersecting temporality of ongoing low-level trauma, not just a single event popping through into the present but a disorienting and overwhelming storm of traumatic intrusion.

The traumatic gothic shadow cast on queer theory is not always made explicit however.” The initial sentence fragment and queer temporality are highlighted in blue. The penultimate sentence is highlighted in purple.

8: “You must realise that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hands and will not let you fall.”

9: “Above all, cook for someone else. Take a moment to prepare food not simply because you’re hungry, but because cooking is an act that makes others feel better. And making the lives of others better is why we are here.”

10: A photo of a page of a book, some lines are highlighted in yellow throughout. “would like that, to show it your belly. There’s something deep within me, something intensely fragile, that is terrified of turning itself to the world.

I’m scared to even write this down, because I worry that having confessed this fragility, you now know where to punch. I know that if I’m hit where I am earnest, I will never recover.

It can sometimes feel like loving the beauty that surrounds us is somehow disrespectful to the many horrors that also surround us. But mostly, I think I’m just scared that if I show the world my belly it will devour me. And so I wear the armor of cynicism, and hide behind the great walls of irony, and only glimpse beauty with my back turned to it, through the Claude glass.

But I want to be earnest, even if it’s embarrassing.”

End ID.]

#litstack #web weaving #quotes #personal #c:lensa #nettle :)#yes I am using nettle feelings to make you all read a chunk of one of my favourite papers #haunted epistemology my absolute beloved

321 notes · View notes

olderthannetfic · 7 months

Note

A question about fanvidding: do you usually 1) have a song that inspires an idea for a ship or show the vid will be about or do you 2) usually have an idea for what kind of scenes the vid will contain or what "vibe" it will have and then use a song you know that kinda fits or do you 3) look for a song with a specific "vibe" without necessarily knowing the song first and if yes, where do you usually look for specific songs? Is there maybe a specific site you'd recommend if you use a specific site?

I have a vague idea for a vid and an even more vague idea for the song's "vibes" and that I'd like to use an 80s song but no actual song where my brain shouts, "Yes! This is it!" and no clue where to specifically look, apart from putting vague terms into a search engine in the hopes it will actually show me useful stuff for a M/M vid that's supposed to be about their sexual tension. I thought maybe "Poison" by Alice Cooper could fit but it's not really it although it also fits the ship because "the 'no fraternization with fellow members' rule says no but my body says yes please" and that kind of secret mutual or at least one-sided attraction is supposed to be the topic or vibe... No idea if I'm making sense. Sorry if not, it's very late. Your recent stuff about looking for danceable vids for Escapade made me want to try to go for a danceable song because spring approaching always makes me want to dance, so that sounded fun.

Most vidders try to avoid 3 because it's a pain in the ass... but yes, that's very often what I do.

One time, I googled "saddest saxophone in the world film noir" to find music for a vid. (Ascenseur pour l'échafaud for the record.)

I don't find any sites helpful. All of the 'find me music that sounds like x' ones straight up don't work for me because the traits that make me like a song aren't categories of metadata they contain.

To pick a standard complaint: Vidders love like 3 Vienna Teng songs and vid them constantly, but any pandora/spotify/etc. thing will immediately fetch you soft, meandering piano glurge wholly unsuited to vids instead of songs with that soaring quality of the few people are looking for more of.

What I typically do is search for "top ten greatest hair metal ballads" or "songs about starting over" or the like and go down somebody's best-of list. I'll sometimes find a youtube channel devoted to highlighting new artists and go through their archives.

I also keep a huge spreadsheet of songs that have caught my attention that could be good for a vid some time. I'll go back through it when I'm looking for inspiration.

Sometimes, though, the perfect song remains out of reach. I did my Escapade vid super late because I just couldn't find what I wanted and had to settle for a slightly different vid structure and a song that was in the ballpark but not quite perfect.

28 notes · View notes

compassionatereminders · 11 months

Note

Dunno if you're still interested in perspectives around the "burden" thing, but here's my two cents in case you are. (TW: internalised ableism)

For me, whenever somebody insisted that I wasn't being a burden it always felt disingenuous and invalidating. I could see the stress I was causing, I could see the sacrifices people were making to compensate for my shortcomings. Without me, people wouldn't have to disadvantage themselves. Denying that didn't feel like kindness, but like condescension. Like people didn't even trust me to to see the the situation as it was, and I was burdening them even more by making them be dishonest about how my disability was hurting them. I was constantly busy trying not to be a burden, not to have struggles, ideally not to be noticable at all. If people expressed worry for me I had failed, and I had to make up for that failure.

The first time somebody said: "Maybe you are a burden. So what?" it felt like a breath of fresh air. Finally I was being taken seriously! Finally the fact that I needed more help than most, the fact that people would have to give things up to give me that help, wasn't being treated like something I wasn't allowed to talk about. It let me finally acknowledge how much it hurt me to be in that position through no fault of my own. And on top of that it challenged my belief that those things obviously and naturally made me unloveable, unworthy and shameful. Maybe I won't ever be able to achieve what others can, or repay the people who have made sacrifices to help me. Maybe I shouldn't have to. Maybe I shouldn't have to structure my life around trying to.

Idk, for me the negativity kind of is the point? When I identify with being a burden it's not to put myself down, it's to validate my experiences. It's an acknowledgement that my disability does have negative consequences for me and others sometimes, that it does kind of suck. Trying to deny that has done nothing but bring me and others more pain. Owning it has empowered me to start building a life that isn't focused on other people, on making sure I never bother them, but on me and what I want or need.

You obviously don't have to feel the same, but that's how it is for me. Hopefully you get something out of this, but if nothing else it was really therapeutic for me haha

Thank you for the thoughtful explanation! I'm happy you've found something positive in reclaiming that word and I didn't mean to invalidate that experience

#chat with kat

67 notes · View notes

iphigeniainaulis · 6 months

Text

Take the bitter with the sweet

Writing this was hard but it helped me realize that I can still call myself a writer even though I don’t post as much as I want to. I do hope that you liked it, @cottonfluffballofdoom, and let’s create even more beautiful works together during future @flash-exchange. Thank you so much for having me here. Without you all I can't call this place home 💛

Character: Hideyoshi

Promt: Something sweet, something bitter

“...and if one day faith brings us a new challenge, I want to meet it by your side. For as you see, we are the warriors, my dear, and at war as at war. We may be losing our battles here, but we will never be defeated for being loved.

Find me. Quick, I’ll wait.”

Autumn has finally blossomed, turning the city’s gardens into one rustling sea of scarlet poppies, amber gold and ochreous ground. Maple leaves are everywhere.

You enter the cool emptiness of a local gallery hall. A maple leaf is gracefully falling at your feet. Nothing is going to be the same, but maybe tomorrow a tiny bud will appear where now emptiness is present.

Memories of the past still hurt like a scar that has barely healed. It is painful. Not because you have it, but because it will never disappear. A year has passed since your life was divided into before and after. A year since the man who promised to live for the sake of your breath on his lips pushed you into the black hole of despair, separating himself from the course of your life.

____________

“Everything is fine,” the trembling sound of your voice was a strange contrast to a bright smile on your face, “we’re gonna make it together. It is so much easier with you by my side.”

That was not true, and you both knew that. The following silence condemned your lies, as does the quiet crowd when a singer hits the wrong note.

“This can’t continue. You are struggling because of me.” Through a transparent surface of a folding screen you could see his mourning profile with shoulders painfully stretched. Wheaten hair was for the first time touched with silver.

“I need to do the right thing. This is my duty to protect you, after all.”

____________

Yes, it was right. Your body and mind were becoming weaker with each day, and so his grip of your hand was getting tighter. Your lover’s embrace sank like ink into your essence, forever changing its structure, so when you returned to “the present” it was hard to find your own reflection in the mirror. For how can one see the whole when a half is missing?

Yet, life still goes on. The leaves are falling to give new buds a chance to bloom and blossom into something beautiful. You too have to keep going. Even if it means stepping on the broken glass.

The gallery hall is all but dark shadows coming when the icy sunlight is no longer falling from the roof, hidden with November clouds. Myriads of scroll paintings on the walls are telling you about distant times when one country was divided into many. People were suffering, and whispers of poets, mourning for their motherland, were mixing with cries of mothers who’d lost their children. Still, even in the times of darkness there was a place for light.

One handscroll is dedicated to a story of a man who sought happiness in death until he found a woman who made him fall in love with life.

You look at another painting with little monkeys reaching for the reflection of the moon instead of searching for it in the sky.

“Silly monkey,” a sudden rush of air gives you goosebumps, “always being so stubborn, never listening to others. I’ll never forgive you.”

“Then don’t. Let the monkey learn its lesson.”

Somebody drops a silk coat on your shoulder, and it smells like almond, tea and parchment. Or maybe you just imagine everything. The scent of home, Azuchi, where you used to sew another kimono for your lover on engawa under the night stars. Dim candles left the aroma of incense on your fingers, and you asked the moon to give you some more light.

Almond, tea and parchment. That’s how your pillows smelt after a night of passion. Sometimes you could feel a light touch of his fingers caressing your hair, warm breath on collarbones.

“Let's work hard today. Don’t forget to eat your breakfast. It’s on the table.”

Almond, tea and parchment. So sweet that it was almost bitter. That’s how your last goodbye felt. Stars dropping from the sky.

“Find me. Quick, I’ll wait.”

You turn around.

(a letter found in your clothes after returning to modern Japan)

Tonight you coughed. Again. I held you in my arms till the first rays of sun appeared on the horizon, but it could barely help you, my dear wife. You fell asleep when I left the room only to lean against the wall and listen to the quiet sound of your breath.

Every single day you fight with darkness that is way stronger than you, yet your smile keeps getting wider after each battle, and my love for you is growing stronger.

Sasuke thinks that your condition may become worse as the wormhole is getting closer. That your body and mind may leave me forever. And so I recall.

I recall the memories of your funny face when the morning sun plays with your hair. I think of our conversations, when nature is quiet in the evening and the wind is full of scents. You tell me about Mitsunari’s cat, about your daily tasks and bickering with Mitsuhide. You look so peaceful that it feels surreal. I want to hug you tight and become something bigger than I am now. To protect, to love, to honor your brave yet tender soul.

You are the force of nature. A sun-dazzling creature, you came into my life to create havoc, and now you may disappear, my beautiful thunder.

We argue. Again. You say I’m too stubborn. You blame me for not allowing you to decide for yourself. You think you can handle it. A silly liar.

But listen..

I know how it feels to be alone. I thought I found the meaning in serving lord Nobunaga. And I still do think so. But now I can't say I don’t have anything to lose. I have. And it's you.

I want to fight for your future, I want you to see the life you've taught me to love. And so I want you to leave.

To become the person you want to be. To share your strength with others. To be full. Don’t forget to eat. Don’t exhaust yourself. And try to find me. I promise to do the same.

I know you’ll probably hate me for what I’m going to do. For forcing you to go back to your time. But I would rather have you alive but distant than ill by my side.

If one day faith brings us a new challenge, I want to meet it by your side. For as you see, we are the warriors, my dear, and at war as at war. We may be losing our battles here, but we will never be defeated for being loved.

Forever yours,

Hideyoshi

#ikemen series #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen hideyoshi #flash exchange #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi

21 notes · View notes

radioactivepeasant · 9 months

Text

Snippets: Free Day Thursday

Ok, part 2!

Part One Here

(Warning for brief violence)

"Okay!" Daxter snapped, flinging a piece of a lever to the ground in disgust, "That is the last time I ever, ever, touch any more stupid Precursor crap!"

Jak would have responded, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the strange place they had fallen into. Hard stone covered the ground in even, flat surfaces, like walking paths made of one solid piece. They matched the gray of drab huts built four or five levels high -- fortresses? -- with equally flat tops and windows covered in a thin, reflective material of some kind. Everything smelled like rotting garbage and the exhaust fumes of his zoomer! What kind of dead ruin was this?

A ruin, perhaps, but hardly a dead one.

Zoomers in bright colors and sleek shapes darted back and forth overhead, mesmerizing the small boy. There were more people on them than he'd ever seen in his life! People walked along the streets in crowds! Was this what Uncle called "city"? It was so much bigger than the villages! And if he stood on the tips of his toes, Jak could see more structures that were even taller!

"There he is!" a harsh voice rang out.

A group of -- were they people? They were covered in armor with goggles that reminded Jak of the giant Precursor robot -- marched towards him, carrying strange weapons. The long, thin things reminded him of the Yellow Sage's blunderbuss. Some forgotten instinct told him that these things were deadly, and never to be played with.

Why were they coming towards him? Had he done something wrong?

Oh no! The broken pieces of the Rift vehicle must have hurt someone!

"Move in!"

In mere seconds, the red warriors had completely surrounded them. Part of Jak wanted to fight, but if they were just protecting their city from what probably looked like an attack, maybe it would be better to stay calm. Jak didn't want to find out what those weapons could do at such close range. But as the circle closed around him, Jak looked up into the face of their leader, and his stomach turned.

This wasn't a misunderstanding. These people were looking for trouble. The tattooed man smirking down at him had the same unreasonable gleam in his eye as Gol Acheron. He didn’t want to talk. He was going to hurt them whether or not they gave him a reason.

Jak took a step back without thinking as his pulse began to thunder in his ears.

What does he want? I didn't do anything to him! Why is he looking at us like that?!

"Step away from the animal!" barked a soldier.

Whoever they were, they understood that Jak was more powerful with Daxter supplementing his attacks. But Jak had never seen these people in his life!

Had he?

The boy cast a frantic look down at Daxter as a soldier began to move towards him.

Run! Run, Daxter!

With a shriek, the ottsel dodged the armored hand and dove between the man's legs.

"GO GO GO!" he screeched, darting off down a side street.

But Jak couldn't follow. The men crowded closer, fencing him in as their sneering leader snapped, "Forget the rat! The Baron wants him!"

Me? Why?! What's a Baron?!

A cruel smile twisted the leader's face as he signaled the man beside Jak.

"We've been waiting for you," he cooed.

Something slammed into the side of Jak's head, dropping him like a stone. Lights danced behind his eyes, and he couldn't think past the pain. Why? Why were they doing this? Were they friends of the Acherons? Rough hands grabbed him by the arms and dragged him to his feet, ignoring his soft whimper. He had to escape. Had to find Daxter. Somehow Jak knew that if he let these people take him, he might never see his friends again.

His throat pulsed and spasmed, but he couldn't force the sound past the lock in his mouth, couldn't cry out for help. Someone! Please, please stop them! Precursors! Somebody!

Somebody answered.

There was an awful, wet sound. Claws through cloth, and flesh, and the horrible, high screams that always followed.

Jak knew that sound. When the Lurkers attacked village outskirts and Samos sent him to clean up the mess, he'd learned what it sounded like when someone was being ripped apart.

His head was swimming, but Jak forced himself to look up. Through leaking eyes he caught the blurry figure of a...a someone, covered in armor. Their head -- or maybe a helmet? Hopefully a helmet -- looked like the skull of the monsters that had flown out of the Rift Gate, complete with the shining yellow thing on the forehead. They were attacking the leader man, the one who hadn't been wearing as much armor as the others.

It seemed the leader wasn't accustomed to close quarters fighting.

He screeched again as the newcomer raked long claws down his face, then bodily lifted him. With a grunt that sounded more human than monster, the creature flung its victim into the soldiers surrounding Jak just as they raised their weapons. There were three flashes of light at once, then panicked shouting and more screaming. The eco that shot out of their weapons had hit their leader as he was thrown, by the sounds of the yelling. "Commander Errol" continued to scream like he was dying. He probably was.

Abruptly the two men holding his arms let go. Still disoriented, Jak staggered and fell to his hands and knees. More yellow eco blasts roared over his head, adding to the ringing in his ears, and the stench of blood grew stronger. Maybe he could crawl out of the way, escape down the side street Daxter took. Maybe-

The creature shot out a red hand and caught Jak by the wrist, pulling him to his feet so quickly his head spun and his stomach lurched. He tried to pull free, but the monster's grip tightened.

"Can you run?"

A man's voice. Was it a creature? Or was this more armor?

Jak wobbled and groaned, and the man-thing seemed to take that as an answer. Without another word, he ducked down to sweep Jak's legs off the ground. He bundled him close to his blood-spattered breastplate and began to run. The jarring of boots against stone did nothing to allay the pounding in Jak’s head, radiating from where the red soldier had hit him. What on earth was happening to him?!

"Hold on tight, Jak. Going to get a little tricky here," his rescuer said.

Wait. He knew Jak's name? How did he know Jak's name?! Did he know one of the sages? Maybe the Yellow Sage, since he seemed like some kind of wild man. If he knew the sages, he'd know how to get back to Sandover! Jak struggled to make a sound the man would recognize as a word or question. Grownups never understood signs, why would this one be different?

"Wait, Jak. We're not safe yet," said the man sternly.

Jak stilled. Whoever this was, he didn't sound like the kind of person you ignored.

Streets flew by as the man ran down alleys and around more corners than he could count. Then his steps slowed. There was something metallic and green -- one of those unusual zoomers that had been flying around, wide enough for two people -- sitting unattended. The man made an exclamation of triumph and hurried over to it. He deposited Jak into one of the seats with a surprising gentleness, fastening two strange belts over his chest with a click.

"That commander's access pass will get us into the agricultural sector," his rescuer said, as if that meant anything to him, "then we'll be out of the city and into the forest. Just stay close to me, no matter what, understand?"

Jak stared at his mask with wide eyes and didn't answer. The man sighed, rattling behind the skull.

"I know. I know you don't recognize me, little one."

Strange, he sounded kind of sad.

"I promise, I'll explain what's going on when we're in the forest. Now: hold onto something."

The wide zoomer, it turned out, was a lot faster than his a-grav zoomer back home. It could hover a lot higher, too. If Jak's head didn't still ache, he would have been a lot more interested in the vehicle. But as it stood, he was pretty sure he was going to throw up. Was this how Daxter felt when they were running around?

Nah. Daxter was one of the toughest people Jak knew. He could roundhouse kick a Lurker in the face and flip back onto Jak’s shoulder without even getting dizzy!

Wait! Daxter!

Frantically, Jak waved his hands as the zoomer careened through and around other drivers, scraping paint more than once. Even though he didn't expect an answer, he signed, "Go back! Go back, my friend is back there!"

Predictably, the man did not go back. But to Jak’s surprise, he did answer.

"We're not going back," he grunted, throwing the craft into a climb that left the engine straining. "That plaza will be swarming with guards now."

Then, a little gentler, he added, "Don't worry so much about Daxter. He's a smart boy, he knows how to keep himself safe until someone comes for him."

Not only did this person know who Jak was, he knew Daxter?

A smart boy. He called Daxter a smart boy.

No one had ever said anything that nice about his best friend before. Especially not adults. Jak had never understood why everyone but Ollie and Mrs. Perch seemed to hate Daxter so much, but it had always frightened him. If they hated a kid who never did anything to them, that meant Jak was on a tightrope every day to keep them from deciding to hate him, too.

But the scary man who grabbed him, he knew Daxter's name. He didn't call him a rat or an animal, he called him a boy! He called him smart! Jak’s previous fear began to melt away. Anyone who talked about his best friend like that had to be a nice person, right? And he was a fun driver, too! Too bad Jak's stomach was trying to crawl up his throat at the moment.

After a tense few seconds, the zoomer leveled out and shot past a fancy fountain, over the heads of people in nicer clothes than what Jak had seen before. A few shook their fists and complained as they flew past. Slate gray paths gave way to the first green he'd seen since first getting into the Rift craft. A long, narrow expanse of grass held several plots of unusually large produce. The plots were being tended by exhausted looking people in much dirtier clothes than the people by the fountain. They didn't even glance up when the zoomer sped by.

They pulled to a stop at a high, forbidding wall. The door shaped vaguely like a skull only added to the sense of foreboding around it, as if it was a warning. A quick glance around revealed that the wall extended as far as Jak could see, so high that nothing was visible beyond it. How could these people stand it? It must be like living at the bottom of a silo!

Jak was snapped from his thoughts by the man yanking the strap things off him with a click and pulling him out of the zoomer. It took him a moment to get his feet under him, but at least he didn't feel like he was going to tip over.

"Hurry," said the man tersely. Almost as if he wasn't thinking about it, he reached down and took hold of Jak's hand. He tugged Jak after him and walked swiftly towards the door.

"Not a little kid!" Jak protested with his free hand as best as he could.

Although, he had a feeling his rescuer could argue to the contrary, considering Jak barely stood as high as the man's ribcage.

"Now leaving Haven City," said a woman's voice above their heads as the door rolled shut behind them. Jak looked around for a talk-box, but couldn't tell where the lady was speaking from. "Haven", eh? Didn't seem like much of a Haven to Jak.

A second door opened in front of them, and a weight lifted off of Jak's shoulders.

Trees, ancient and massive, sprawled across hills and around a creek running placidly down to a lake. Nature didn't care about soldiers and cities and people hurting each other. Nature kept growing and being born and dying and being reborn in an eternal cycle of eco. It was a relief to see none of those entombing walls before them. Strange though, Jak didn't see any signs of wildlife. One bird chirruped several trees away, but everything else was eerily quiet.

The armored man lifted an oddly shaped talk-box to his ear and turned away from Jak.

"Satellite One, this is Lighthouse. We're clear."

"Copy that, Lighthouse. Wait, who's "we"?"

"Oh. Jak. The kid Praxis was trying to ambush?"

"Kid?! Wait, you didn't tell me you were going to grab someone's kid!"

"Don't worry about it," the man said casually, "Focus on the mission."

The person calling themselves Satellite One was quiet for a second, then relented. "...right. I'll...I'll bring him home, Damas. I swear it."

"If anyone can, it's you." The man -- Day-maz? Is that what Satellite called him? -- put the talk box away and took in a deep breath through his nose. Then he pivoted to kneel in front of Jak.

"Alright, let's have a look at you."

He unlatched the mask or helmet and slid it off, revealing a human face beneath a hood. He pushed it off and shook his ears free with a grumble.

"Bah. This disguise is a necessary evil but I can't say I'll be sad to see it go."

The clawed gloves followed, and then rough brown fingers lifted Jak's chin carefully, checking for injuries.

"Look up? Good. Pupils...ah, mmhm. Jak, can you tell me if you feel dizzy or nauseous right now?"

"Yes."

Thin, almost invisible eyebrows rose over violet eyes. "Yes you can tell me, or yes you feel dizzy?"

"Yeah, that one." Jak frowned. "There's no birds."

The Day-mas man released Jak's face and clicked his tongue. "Well, you may have a mild concussion, little one."

Jak's ears drooped a few seconds after the words caught up to him. Aw man! But those take forever to go away without eco!

The thought of avoiding running and climbing for a few weeks was torture!

"There's a green eco vent a couple miles into the woods if we keep going northwest. For a slight brain injury you really need a full vent, but I can give you a little now to make walking easier."

The man pulled off more of the scaly armor and searched around a belt full of pouches before coming up with a tube of some kind of paste.

"Hold still."

Eco in paste?! How did he get it into a jelly?! It sat cold on Jak’s skin, numbing the place the guard had slammed his weapon into. Jak shivered as his mind cleared a bit. With the adrenaline beginning to wear off, he was starting to notice the cold. He'd need to find some yellow eco to raise his core temperature. Absentminded, he signed a thanks to the man and looked around.

"Who are you?" he asked, then belatedly remembered to add, "How do you know me and Daxter?"

With a weird, sad, smile, the man sat back on his heels. "My name is Damas," he said quietly, and then spelled it with his hand.

"You sign?!"

Jak thought adults just weren't capable of understanding signs!

"Yes," Damas signed back, "It's very common where I come from. Come, we need to get you more eco. Explanations can wait until you are fully healed."

He stood and held out a hand.

"I'm not a baby!" Jak complained, but he took the offered hand anyway.

Damas chuckled warmly. "No, you're not a baby. But you are quite small, compared to me. I wouldn't want you to get lost out here in the unknown. You never know what you'll run into out here in the woods."

"No birds," Jak commented again, frowning into bushes and trees as he was tugged along.

Entirely too cheerfully, Damas answered, "No, no birds. You're keeping track of your surroundings, good! There are predators nearby that have scared them off."

"Wha?!" Jak yelped, looking around again.

Damas squeezed his hand and began to make his way along the creek. "You don't need to worry about them, alright? I won't let anything hurt you, I promise."

Jak made a skeptical sound, but squeezed back and let himself be guided deeper into the woods, and further away from the world he'd left behind.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #dadmas #my art #king damas #jak and daxter au #free day thursday #Jak gets his recklessness from his dad #Damas 100% did not tell anyone what he was planning #especially not the dress-like-a-metalhead-and-maim-Errol part #that was a last-minute idea on his part to shake public trust in Praxis #don't worry Jak all of Spargus is just as confused as you are #there is a DAMAS. LOOSE. in HAVEN!#damas is on the loose #this still doesn't have a title lol #bonus points if you recognize the reference image the illustration is based on #note: DAMAS STILL DOESN'T KNOW JAK IS MAR 🤣#fragile things au

52 notes · View notes