#someone who uses words they don't understand to sound impressive

[heich0e]

i rly like when people use words incorrectly and then trying to reverse engineer what they think the word meant. it's like a game

[godsfavoritescientist]

Biting the bars of my enclosure about autistic ford tonight. There's something about him using vocabulary and turns of phrase that seem "outdated" or "pretentious" that feels so painfully genuine to me. When people say he talks like that just to "try to sound smart" I wish I could explain what it's like to be so ostracized from your peers growing up that you spend all your time reading instead, to the point where you pick up your way of speaking from books instead of from people. And then what it's like for people to call you out for "talking weird" over and over again, not able to wrap their heads around why the fuck you would choose more archaic or technical or formal words than the simpler ones that surely come to everyone's minds first. What it's like to have to dedicate a sizable chunk of attention to filtering through every single word you say out loud in real time before you say it, to make absolutely sure that it isn't a word people will judge you for using or make fun of you for using, just so you'll have a chance of being taken seriously. Learning through trial and error how to filter out the words that other people don't think are normal or casual enough for the conversation, even though for you, the word choice that's "natural-sounding" enough for them is the third or fourth word you came up with when searching for the right way to phrase something in your head. I wish I could explain just how long it takes to say fucking anything after spending a lifetime doing that during every single conversation, and how repetitive and long-winded you end up being when you spend so long coming up with alternative ways of saying every little thing you ever think. And I wish people realized that, at the very least for autistic people and autistic-coded characters, speech that's seen as pretentious is really just the way they talk when they're not putting in the extra effort to filter through every word they say just so others will take the time to listen.

[inkskinned]

they don't see it, because it is around them like air. to them, it would have to be through movies, through magazines. they think it happens outside of life, like it must be selected to be interacted with.

but you discovered in the fifth grade that you couldn't wear shirts with words on them, it was an excuse for someone to look at your chest. you were catcalled before you were in middle school. sometimes you look at that memory and deny it - surely that can't be right, you were young. but you were in a skirt, so maybe that was a natural byproduct. it was a skirt from that place "justice by limited too" - a store literally for kids. it was popular around then. you wore that skirt twice and then never again.

you can't wear headphones, because what if a man wants to talk to you? there's a guy on the internet who complains that women shut themselves off from being approached. at night, you often keep the headphones positioned but with the sound off, just in case you need to hear something behind you.

you learned at 12 that you can't make eye contact, don't acknowledge the aggression. just walk faster and hope he picks on somebody else. don't wear your hair like that. do not park next to that kind of car, park an entire cityblock away if you must.

you can't go to the museum, you're sitting and tying your shoe when he approaches you and mentions that nobody understands art anymore. that in the whole world, it's just you-two. you have no recourse for eating a meal (it's rabbit food if it's salad, and someone will roll their eyes, eat a sandwich. it's pick-me behavior if it's a burger, we get it you're a cool girl). if you like mushrooms you are cottagecore, which is cheesy. if you like video games you're an egirl (similar to a pick-me). boys do not get categories, but if you point out the categories are sexist, you are told okay but these girls really exist.

it is somehow developing, a little undercurrent that you've been uncomfortable with. the nickname "karen" went from being "a white woman that uses her whiteness as a weapon, particularly against people of color," to now mean "any woman raising her voice or being even a little upset." the reappropriation of a term used specifically to call out white women for their racism has set your skin on edge. now it is just another version of "bitch," one that can be said on television. recently you saw a woman get called a karen because a drunk driver sideswiped her, and she screamed when it happened. the comments on the dashcam video all say "why do women always scream about everything." "when has the world ever been bettered by women screaming." "this fucking karen. she deserved to get hit."

in the sitcom, it's a joke that the wife is furious; slamming her hands down into the sink. i do everything around here, might as well do this too. in your house, your father is always in-his-office. before you know better, your first boyfriend is the type to say it's just easier for you. you used to beg him to take you on dates. he used to make a big deal about it, about the sacrifice of effort, even if you were the one who did most of the planning.

someone on the internet makes a "POV: the most boring person you've ever met" where he puts a towel on his head and just talks like a normal person. his impression of a boring woman is just a woman that is talking about her pretty-average life without exaggeration.

you are sometimes actually sad in the reverse, because actually you did used to struggle to pay attention in conversations. you were also easily bored of normal things, your adhd pinging off of every radio tower in the vacinity. it took time and therapy and patience, and now you delight in the small things about your friends. you like having them show you their organizational systems and talk about their taylor swift tickets. you are entertained by them because you learned to be, even though your brain is structured to only be excited by novelty. you kind of hate the idea that the reason your father will never actually pay attention to you is that you're no longer interesting. eventually the shine wore off, and you were just a person, not a spaceship. he never learned how to just, like, form an actual intimate friendship. it was always at a distance, this sense - emotional closeness was too much. (and yes. he's homophobic).

you're already tired of whatever the fuck is happening with the words "divine feminine", a rancid take that is basically just a rebranding of the patriarchy in action. what the fuck do they mean "being small and delicate and needing protection" is feminine. the words they are looking for are that they want a partner, not that their desire for equivalent support is relegated to gender. the human desire for community is not actually gendered at all. also, what fucking wolves are these "divine masculine" men even battling. fuckken taxes? shouldn't their "desire to protect" also mean "protect you from emotional neglect", or are all emotions off-limits (and how sad would that be. that's a horrible bar to set.)

and they tell you it's really not bad actually, because it's just there. they suggest you get off the internet or you stop reading that book or you stop thinking so hard about the movie or you stop just-being-a-feminist because honestly it's a killjoy sort of thing and then you tilt your head to the side and there's that little siren in the back of your head. if things were actually fine, being a feminist wouldn't put a stop to anything, it would go completely unnoticed, because you wouldn't have any comment to make about any of this

but you are ruining your own life, they tell you. also, girls don't sit like that. also, all girls are catty. also, all girls are bad drivers. also, all girls just need a cute bracelet and an iced coffee.

you do like iced coffee, is the thing. when you close your eyes, the world around you has this strange note to it. and once you hear it, it never stops ringing.

[descendant-of-truth]

Honestly? So much of Sonic Prime happens the way it does because Sonic is unabashedly, wholeheartedly neurodivergent, and I wanna talk about that in detail for several reasons

I think most people assume he has ADHD, and while I agree, I think they tend to leave it at "he's hyperactive and impulsive" when there's actually a lot more going on there.

For example, he lacks a filter. He says exactly what he's thinking, all the time, regardless of who's listening. I wouldn't be surprised if he does it as a type of vocal stim, considering that he talks to himself as much as he does to other people. Maybe he dislikes the way silence feels on his ears, too?

Something I noticed was that when Thorn gets on his case for this, asking if he ever stops talking, the way he says "eh, not really" sounds... almost resigned?

He could have easily said it in a more jokey way, but his tone (and the wide camera shot) gives me the impression that this isn't a trait of his that he feels especially positive about.

It's not cool or funny to him, at least not in this instance; it's just something he does, which further proves to me that it's more of an unconscious stim than anything else.

On the topic of the jungle world though, it also shows us a couple instances of him not being able to read others' intentions very well. Prim lies to him about knowing what the Prism shard is, and Thorn uses him to get to said shard - and despite how hostile they are, he takes both of them at their word.

He only realizes Thorn's intentions after she hits him across the clearing - not for the first time that day, mind you - and Sonic berates himself a little for not seeing this coming.

But it's not like this is the only time he has difficulty understanding intent; just look at his interactions with Shadow.

This is not the behavior of someone who understands why Shadow's picking a fight with him. He doesn't understand the implications of "you literally shook the world" because he doesn't know about the Weirder aspects of the explosion. In his mind, he just messed up a mountain.

Though I think his attitude implies another thing about his dynamic with Shadow that might explain why he was so quick to dismiss what he was talking about, which is. I don't think Sonic usually understands why they fight??

Shadow is a person of few words and Sonic has a hard time picking up on subtleties, that's a recipe for miscommunication already. And if Sonic's already predisposed to thinking that Shadow fights him Just Because, then of course he didn't take this particular instance seriously.

Though going back to "he only registered the physical effect of the explosion," Sonic is actually pretty consistent with understanding things that are tangible a lot better than anything else. Case in point: that One Palm Tree

His first reaction to seeing it presented as a gift is that it must be a trick. because he doesn't see the tangible point of the tree, and isn't enough of a symbolism guy to see the sentimental point of it, either.

Don't get me wrong, he is being insensitive here, but I don't think it's on purpose in any way. Look at his body language and expressions:

Even as he's getting on their case for being too sentimental, he's not unhappy or uncomfortable with them. He's just completely failing to recognize that this was supposed to be a big deal for them, so he's treating it way more casually than is appropriate.

Which is like. a classic social flub for neurodivergent folks

(Quick side note - this specific "huh" that he makes as Tails is flying away before Sonic realizes he's upset is a whole mood. I don't know how to explain it but this is Exactly what it feels like when you can sorta tell something's not clicking but you don't know what yet)

(Look at him. brain static)

I could go on with the detailed explanations but some of that would just be me repeating past posts I've made, so I'll leave it at "he is clearly not handling change well either" and link back to an example.

So anyway, this is what I meant when I said that so much of the show is impacted by Sonic being neurodivergent. It affects how we hear his thoughts as viewers, it affects his ability to understand and connect with his friends, it's why he dismisses Shadow, it's why he impulsively smashes the Paradox Prism, the list goes on.

And he's not stupid because of any of these traits, either. None of what I've described has to do with intelligence, but I've seen "Sonic is too dumb" as a reason to criticize the show, and that's just not what's happening here.

If anything, I'm actually really impressed with how well the writers have managed to portray a more nuanced take on what a character with ADHD would look like. Because he's not just being hyperactive and chatty, you can tell it affects how he perceives things too.

Which is a much bigger part of the overall experience, and it's really cool to see in a cartoon like this - and in the lovable main character, to boot! Who cherishes his friends despite his struggles to understand them! Why is it so good!

In conclusion Sonic is the ADHD king we both needed and deserved, thanks for coming to my TED talk

[rosedom]

Credits to @/////alhaithamtit

corrupting an innocent guy into a whore. turning him from someone who had little experience in sex, to a slut whining and begging to be filled with your cock. it didn't matter to him which hole would you use, as long as he could feel you inside of him.

Gods, yeah. Imagine meeting a cute guy, so innocent and inexperienced. They didn't have much interest in sex because it doesn't faze them when they were being seduced. Watching porn doesn't do the job either. They'd rather find ways to impress you than to waste time on stuff like that..

It took them a while to realize after years of only being able to think and dream only of you, did they realize that they like you. As in like like. Woah! Who would've thought? A total shocker? For him? For anyone? No. When he realized he wasn't shocked at all! It only explained his behavior and his disinterest towards sex and romance in general. Because they're not you!

The others? Oh please, they noticed right away. He'd literally reject them and their offers to get to know him personally or to hang out with him and stuff.. Always asking you if you're coming and if you're not he'd rather stay at your room, reading books and doing homework in there because it brings him so much comfort with your smell and stuff,.. Rejecting people who try to flirt with him and say "sorry. Not interested." Straight up no bullshitting. Also would straight up say "sorry, can't. 「 name 」's got a date. I need to help them get ready."

Imagine the shocked faces those poor souls have.. It's funny.

cute guy who is a virgin because he's never interested in sex. Cute guy who rarely rub one out because he'd rather focus his time and attention on you. Who prefers to not spoil himself because he wants you to do it. Cute guy who knows the basics and what sex is and stuff but was so innocent enough because he was never interested...

But.. shit,.. Ever since the day he accidentally saw you jerkin' off.. Your huge cock and the way your moans sounds. He couldn't take his mind off of you. He doesn't understand why his pants feel so tight at just the sight of you, you're not even touching him! He was never this reactive too..

He'd gulp. Hard. Trying to swallow down his arousal as his breathing quickened. He wants to suck it, lick it, worship it— wha? What is he even thinking! You don't even like him like that!

Cute boy who's life is ruined because of you. First he realized he liked you as more than a friend. Now his body and mind is only thinking of you. Cute guy who whimpers at the thought of soiling himself to the thought of you.. Cute guy who searches online and stuff..

imagine your surprise when your cute friend asked you out! A blushing shy mess of the usually composed and indifferent guy, saying he likes you! A lot! You also liked him but he never showed interest in relationships so you dropped it. Who would've known..

Cute guy who gives you his first, fully vulgar from all the research he did.. Opening up and spreading his slicked hole and begging you to claim him as yours. Moaning out your name, only able to think of you with heart eyes..

You were surprised at how vulgar he was being, his words and actions a stark contrast to the fact that he said he's a virgin and never had any personal relationship out side of your friendship with him.. You're too aroused to think clearly though..

More. More more more more! He wants more. More of you. Gods, he's so happy. So fucking happy he's in utter bliss. He can't live without this. Without you. Now that he's got a taste of you he's addicted. Addicted to your touch. Addicted to your taste. Addicted to you. You you you.

Fuck.. He can't go back anymore.. Always craving to have you. Whether is inside or on or just the knowledge that you're watching... He can't even sleep without dreaming of you and waking up so wet..

Fuckk.. He's a goner. A whore and a slut now, for you. Only for you. It's okay though. You find it hot. ♡

ur so right ,, i'm literally insane over corruption sometimes . . .

the idea of a pretty boy so head over heels for you, his cock isn't even his priority ! all those months, years of pining, though—he'd be so pent up, but he probably wouldn't even realize it ! that is, 'til that fateful day he catches you jacking off (the door to your room left cracked open . . . whether or not that was on purpose from you, well—guess we'll never know); after that, his mind has tunneled, left to replay that scene over and over and over again, the most delicious of tortures to our sweet lil' virgin;(

all those nasty sites, those dirty talkin' audios that he's left to fuck himself silly to . . . he's just imagining you, the way you'd spread and fuck him open, the way your voice would surround his mind in soft cotton . . . he never imagined before just how quickly his lil' cock could control his mind, but, now that it's here, he can't imagine going back.

he surprises even himself when he asks you out, but the biggest surprise is just how . . . vulgar he is, writhing beneath you for the first time. his only experience is with his own hand and the naughty videos he's watched; so, really, it's to be expected how he mimics the whining cries of a pornstar, the way the dirtiest words and phrases fall from his lips as you're opening him up in preparation to take you.

it'd have to become your personal mission, then, to fuck him so silly and brainless that he doesn't have the wherewithal anymore to be anything but your cute, perfect lil' whore—one who can do nothing but whimper and whine for your cock.

he's just your sweet, corrupted lil' sex-drunk boyfriend now<33

[xeeroo08]

Astro observations 《3》

Disclaimer : Not an astrologer, take it with a grain of salt, only for fun.

🫧 Asteroid Orma in 8th house might be the people to leave an impression of being hella reserved in a mysterious way. Like they might tell you a story and you will always feel like there is something more to it.

🪩 Mars in 3rd house people often say something offending without meaning to and regret the very next second. Trust me it's not their fault, they wanted to say something else and ended up saying something totally unexpected. They also feel guilty about it for days and feel sad that they might have come off rude for no reason.

🫧 Neptune conjuct ascendant, they are the real chameleons. They can mold themselves as per the situation demands. Ngl it comes handy sometimes. Like I remember when I was in 6th grade I was caught into a very serious matter but I pretended as if nothing happened and flew away. When the other guys rattled me out to the teacher, she said It's impossible that I was involved and that she doesn't believe them. She didn't hear a single word against me. Lol no, I wasn't her favorite student or something. It's just that I had maintained a certain reputation among different sect of people as per my own convenience. Call it manipulation if you want, if that doesn't explain the planet itself.

🪩 Pluto trine Lilith, it's not always sexuality that comes to the mind when we hear about these folk. Lilith here is aware that pluto is her benefactor. But it takes time for her to feel comfortable in her own domain. She is powerful here and knows what she wants. Definitely won't take anyone's bullshit. Her transformation can be scary and ruthless if someone tries to pin her down.

🫧 Jupiter sextile Pluto have a deep interest in forbidden things. Learning things that often people consider taboo is their thrill. They may or may not share the knowledge but they are always resourceful about topics relatated to dark themes of life. Feel free to discuss anything with them, they won't judge you infact they will help you inhance your own boundaries. You will be surprised how normal they'll sound while talking about things that might trigger other people even if they have gone through the same.

🪩 The one guy I had a Aphrodite-Eros synastry with made me feel like...idk strange. I was on a constant pedestal. I cared a lot about him. His Eros conjucted my Aphrodite and I looked out for him a lot. There was a thick sexual tension but also comfort. He also made me get a taste of jealousy. Which I don't usually feel. I used to constantly compare myself with the girls he used to interact with. We were not dating but I just couldn't help but feel insecure. Not because of him....idk why I was acting like that when I knew I was pretty enough.

🫧 Mars opposite Venus people get sudden mood swings from doing absolutely nothing to doing everything in next one hour. Oh and they'll do it again if it ain't asthetically pleasing to the eye.

🪩 Sun sextile Saturn, trust me they do know how to control themselves and take things with a grain of salt. Their ego is well maintained and not fragile unlike others. Very understanding and real mature people.

🫧 Sun sextile/trine Moon are the most compassionate and intuned with their selves. They know themselves better than anyone else. Also they always know exactly what they are feeling at any given time. Even if they are depressed at some point they won't give up easily.

🪩 Neptune negatively aspecting Saturn, dreaming big is easy, isn't it? But when you start implanting those dreams in real life your dreams remain dreams only. Don't worry though. It's a lesson. Don't give up, try harder. Dream as big as you want but at the end of the day remember to open your eyes and start afresh with new motivation. And please don't listen to those who tell you to quit it down. Your dreams are not weird or impossible or too much. Those people are just jealous because of how big your ambitions are and how far you are willing to go for it. Don't restrict your imagination for someone else. Believe yourself, you can do it!

🫧 Pluto in 10th house solar return chart can indicate a huge change in academic life or anywhere you are working at. For better or worse you better take precautions before hand. I am having it this year with mars in 3rd house and trust me from an above average student my grades are becoming poor. If I were to describe my graph I can see it coming downhill like a water slide which is creating quite an impression on my parents as well as my teachers. Note the sarcasm.

🪩 Saturn in 7th house could indicate having no interest in relationships at first or people being afraid to ask you out but when you grow up, settle well, you find yourself looking for your better half, resulting in either meeting them late or doing an arrange marriage.

🫧 Saturn opposite ascendant are the people who often get told that they look unapproachable on first glance. Kind of the 'out of league' vibe surrounds them. Which is not always true but I have noticed people do think twice before approaching them. These sweeties are also damn soft on the inside but for only those who do dare to talk to them. They rarely take the initiative themselves. But come ask help from them and they will risk their lives for you.

🪩 Mercury aspecting chiron could indicate healing your wounds by diving into the world of books. You might like to read or write journals when you are feeling down. There might be a small diary or pages that you have written when you were at your lowest. Its also possible that you start writing a novel or something to help you voice out your pain through written words.

🫧 Sun conjuct asteroid Medusa. Damn! You could have curly hair or hairs that are a lot wavy, thick and voluminated. Highly blessed in hair department. Many people might have praised you or complimented on your hair from a very young age. This could also indiacte a lot of body hair. From top to bottom you have body hair and trust me its not a bad thing. Its a blessing of being powerful, embrace it. It's just a hunch but some may have complimented you on that too.

🪩 Mars in 3rd house can't watch porn without audio or no communication during the deed. They always want to hear the sounds, no, they NeeD to hear the sounds raw! Only visuals is boring for them just as adding some weird music to the video. No, its not creating the mood, its ruining my experience, pls stop it.

🫧 You don't wanna hear someone moan who has their personal planets conjucting asteroid Sirene. Trust me you will get addicted. Its insane and I am not bluffing. Their voice may or may not be as addictive in general but in bed? Or when they want to take something from you? You will be trapped even before you blink. It's dangerous.

🪩 What's with Taurus Mars and Laziness? So much potential and still they study few hours before exam, complete assignments few minutes before submission and still have the audacity to say they will easily pass. Like bro if that's how you pass then I can't imagine how you will top....

🫧 Moon in 4th house people are highly invested in family matters. Family comes first to them and then the rest. The kind of people to tolerate an unhappy married life for the sake of their kids because they can't see their family being split apart.

🪩 Mars aspecting Pluto. It doesn't matter if it is positively aspected or negatively aspected, there is a lot of pent up frustration and anger issues underneath this placement. If provoked or underdeveloped could result in a very sudden and violent rage from this person. Better to leave them alone in such situations.

[estapa-edwards]

TUTOR - E.EDWARDS

paring: Ethan Edwards x fem! reader

word count: 4.9k

requested? no

warnings: use of y/n. slow burn!

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The University of Michigan was a place of both challenge and opportunity, especially for those who were part of its renowned hockey team. Mark Estapa, my brother, was one of the key players on the team, and his friend Ethan Edwards was right there with him. The name Ethan Edwards was not unfamiliar to me; I had heard it countless times from Mark, usually followed by tales of impressive goals and game-winning plays.

It all started one afternoon at the hockey rink. I was there watching Mark practice, as I often did, cheering him on from the sidelines. After practice, Coach Naurato approached me, his expression serious, a stark contrast to the lively demeanor he exhibited during hockey practices.

"Y/N," he began, "I've heard from Mark how smart you are. Ethan is struggling with his academics, and I think you would be a great tutor for him. Would you consider helping him out?"

The idea caught me off guard. Ethan Edwards? The very same person who had made more than one snide remark about me in class? The thought of spending extra time with him was far from appealing.

"Coach," I hesitated, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Ethan and I don't exactly get along."

Coach Naurato sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I understand, Y/N, but I believe you're the best person to help him. Please, just think about it."

The weight of the decision pressed on me as I left the rink. The thought of helping someone who had shown me little respect was difficult to swallow. However, the importance of the hockey team to Mark, and the trust Coach Naurato placed in me, made me reconsider.

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After a few days of internal debate, I finally decided to give it a shot. I approached Ethan after our next class together, a hesitant smile on my face.

"Ethan, Coach Naurato told me about the tutoring," I started, trying to sound as friendly as possible. "I'm willing to help you out if you're serious about improving your grades."

Ethan looked surprised, his icy blue eyes narrowing slightly. "Why would you do that? We're not exactly best friends, Y/N."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my patience intact. "This isn't about us becoming friends, Ethan. It's about helping you stay on the team and doing right by Mark."

There was a moment of silence, tension hanging in the air. Finally, Ethan nodded reluctantly. "Alright, fine. When do we start?"

Our first tutoring session was nothing short of a disaster. Ethan's attitude was immediately confrontational, making the atmosphere tense and uncomfortable from the start. He slouched in his chair, arms crossed defiantly, as he looked at the math problems I had prepared for him.

"Are we ever going to use this in real life?" he scoffed, pushing the paper away from him as if it were contaminated.

I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. "Ethan, this is basic algebra. It's not just about solving for 'x'; it's about developing problem-solving skills that are essential for understanding more complex concepts later on."

Ethan rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Problem-solving skills? I've got plenty of those on the ice. What's the point of all this?"

I could feel my frustration growing, but I tried to stay focused on the task at hand. "The point, Ethan, is to help you improve academically so you can continue to play hockey. Coach Naurato believes in you, and so do I. But you have to be willing to put in the effort."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms even tighter. "Well, this is a waste of time. I don't need your help."

The session ended with both of us frustrated and no real progress made. I left the classroom that day questioning whether I was the right person for the job, doubting my ability to help someone who seemed so determined to resist. Ethan, on the other hand, seemed to revel in his own stubbornness, as if proving a point by refusing to cooperate.

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One evening, Ethan and I were deep into our tutoring session. We had been working on a particularly challenging math problem for what felt like hours, both of us growing increasingly frustrated as we struggled to find the solution.

"Just think it through step by step," I encouraged, pointing to the problem on the paper in front of us. "You're almost there, Ethan."

He looked at the problem, then back at me, a look of concentration on his face. Slowly, a spark of understanding appeared in his eyes.

"I think I've got it," he said, his voice filled with excitement.

I watched as he worked through the problem, his pencil moving quickly across the paper. And then, just like that, he arrived at the correct answer.

"Yes! I did it!" Ethan exclaimed, jumping up from his chair.

Caught up in the moment, I jumped up too, and before we knew it, we were hugging each other in celebration. It was a spontaneous, genuine expression of joy and relief, and for a moment, all the tension and awkwardness between us seemed to melt away.

But as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. We both pulled away awkwardly, realizing the unexpected intimacy of the hug.

"Uh, sorry about that," Ethan mumbled, his cheeks turning a shade of red I had never seen before.

"No, it's okay," I stammered, equally embarrassed.

Outside of our tutoring sessions, however, our relationship remained as strained as ever. Our newfound camaraderie seemed to exist only within the confines of the classroom, disappearing as soon as we stepped outside the door.

During hockey practices and games, Ethan and I were back to being at odds with each other. He would make snide remarks, and I would respond with sarcastic comments of my own. Mark tried to mediate, reminding us both of the progress we had made, but it seemed that our truce was limited to our time spent studying together.

It was frustrating, to say the least, to see Ethan revert to his old ways so easily. But I tried to focus on the positive, reminding myself of the progress we had made and the genuine friendship that was slowly developing between us.

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One Friday night, Mark convinced me to join him and the rest of the team at a frat party. I wasn’t much of a party person, but he promised it would be a good way to unwind and have some fun. Reluctantly, I agreed, not anticipating the events that would unfold.

The frat house was packed with students, the music blaring and the atmosphere electric. Despite my initial reservations, I found myself enjoying the night, laughing and dancing with Mark and his teammates. However, as the night wore on, I made the mistake of indulging a bit too much in the drinks being passed around.

By the time midnight rolled around, I was considerably more intoxicated than I had intended to be. My vision was blurry, my balance unsteady, and the room seemed to spin around me. I knew I needed to get out of there, but the idea of walking home by myself in my current state was daunting.

As I stumbled towards the exit, I felt a hand on my arm, steadying me. I looked up to find Ethan Edwards standing beside me, a concerned expression on his face.

"Y/N, are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

"I'm fine," I slurred, trying to pull away from him. "I just need to walk home."

Ethan looked at me incredulously, clearly recognizing that I was in no condition to make it home safely on my own.

"You're not walking home like this," he said firmly. "I'll drive you."

I scoffed at his suggestion, my intoxicated mind unable to process the genuine concern in his eyes.

"I am not driving home with you, are you crazy?" I snapped, my words slurring together.

Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, Y/N, I know we don't get along, but I'm not going to let you walk home alone like this. It's not safe."

Despite my intoxicated state, I knew he was right. Reluctantly, I nodded, allowing him to guide me towards his car.

The car ride was quiet, the tension palpable. I stared out the window, trying to ignore the pounding headache and the nauseous feeling that threatened to overtake me. Ethan drove carefully, his eyes focused on the road ahead, seemingly determined to get me home safely.

As we pulled up to my apartment, I mustered the strength to speak, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Thank you, Ethan," I said, my words slurred but sincere. "I appreciate it."

Ethan glanced over at me, a soft smile on his face. "You're welcome, Y/N. Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

Just as I was about to reply, a sudden wave of nausea washed over me. Panic set in as I realized I was about to be sick.

"Ethan, pull over!" I yelled, my voice frantic.

Without hesitation, Ethan swerved the car to the side of the road, unlocking the doors and jumping out of the car to help. I barely had time to open the door before I was leaning out, vomiting onto the side of the road.

Ethan was right beside me, holding my hair back and rubbing my back soothingly as I emptied my stomach. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, there was a gentleness to his actions that I hadn't expected.

Once I was done, Ethan handed me a bottle of water he had in the car, and I rinsed my mouth out before spitting onto the grass.

"Are you okay?" he asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

I nodded weakly, grateful for his help despite the embarrassment of the situation.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I replied, my voice shaky. "Thank you, Ethan. I'm really sorry about this."

Ethan shook his head, dismissing my apology with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it, Y/N. Just make sure you get inside safely, okay?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted and ready to be home. "I will. Thanks again, Ethan."

As I made my way towards my apartment, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude towards Ethan. Despite our differences and the strained relationship we had, he had shown me kindness and concern in a moment of need.

As I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, taking a moment to collect myself, I realized that perhaps there was more to Ethan Edwards than met the eye. Our relationship was still complicated, but in that vulnerable moment, I couldn't help but feel a newfound respect for him.

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The next day, I woke up with a pounding headache and a sense of regret about the previous night's events. As I tried to piece together the evening, my thoughts kept drifting back to Ethan and his unexpected kindness. I found myself wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the cocky, arrogant persona he often displayed.

Later that day, I received a text from Ethan.

Ethan: Hey, Y/N. Just wanted to check in and make sure you're feeling okay after last night. Let me know if you need anything.

I stared at the message for a moment, surprised by his thoughtfulness. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about his character.

Me: Hey Ethan, thanks for checking in. I'm feeling better, just a bit embarrassed about last night. I appreciate your help.

Ethan: No need to be embarrassed. We've all been there. Glad you're feeling better. If you ever need a ride or anything, just let me know.

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During a team dinner at a local restaurant, Ethan couldn't resist making another snide comment. The atmosphere was already buzzing with the excitement of Family Weekend, and I had been invited to join Mark and the team for the special occasion. Despite the festive mood, Ethan seemed determined to maintain our strained relationship.

"So, Y/N," he began, a sly grin on his face, "Do you tutor everyone on the team, or am I just lucky?"

I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. I didn't want to cause a scene in front of Mark and the rest of the team, especially during a family event. "I tutor those who need help, Ethan. It's nothing personal."

He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Sure, sure," he replied, the underlying tension clear in his tone.

Frustrated and tired of his constant jabs, I pulled Ethan aside, hoping to address the issue privately.

"Ethan, can we talk?" I asked, my voice low and controlled.

He looked at me, seemingly caught off guard by my request. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

"I didn't even want to tutor you," I admitted, my frustration evident. "Coach Naurato asked me to help you because Mark mentioned how much I've helped him with his academics. I agreed because I wanted to help you stay on the team, not because I enjoy being ridiculed by you at every opportunity."

Ethan looked at me, his expression changing from surprise to hurt. "I knew Coach asked you to tutor me because of Mark," he said quietly. "But hearing you say you didn't want to... it stings, Y/N."

I sighed, realizing the impact of my words. "Ethan, it's not that I didn't want to help you improve. It's your attitude towards me that's made this so challenging. Why do you do this to me?"

Ethan looked at me, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "I don't know, Y/N," he admitted, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. "I guess it's easier to push people away than to admit that I need help."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by his honesty. "So, you're saying all this animosity is just a defense mechanism?"

He shrugged, avoiding my gaze. "Maybe. It's just... I've always had to prove myself, I guess I'm just used to putting up walls."

I took a moment to process his words, feeling a pang of empathy. "Ethan, I get it. We all have our insecurities and ways of protecting ourselves. But that doesn't give you the right to treat me poorly."

He nodded, looking back up at me. "I know, Y/N. I'm sorry. I'll try to do better."

I looked at him, searching his eyes for any sign of sincerity. "Alright, Ethan. I'll give you another chance. But you need to show me that you're serious about changing. And it can't just be in private, Ethan. You need to treat me with respect in front of other people too."

He nodded, determination in his eyes. "I promise, Y/N. Things will change."

Feeling a sense of relief and hope, I impulsively stepped forward and wrapped my arms around Ethan in a brief hug. To my surprise, he hesitated for a moment before cautiously returning the embrace.

Little did we know, Mark had walked into the restaurant at that exact moment and witnessed the entire exchange. A look of suspicion crossed his face as he watched us, his instincts telling him that something had changed between his sister and his teammate.

As Ethan and I pulled apart, we were unaware of the scrutiny we were now under. Mark's suspicions were piqued, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had just occurred between us.

The atmosphere at the dinner table had noticeably shifted, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety. While Ethan seemed genuinely committed to changing his behavior, the unintended consequence of Mark's newfound suspicion added a layer of complexity to our already complicated relationship.

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As the weeks passed, Ethan and I continued to spend more time together, both during our tutoring sessions and outside of them. Our relationship was slowly evolving, and the mutual animosity we once shared was gradually being replaced by a growing friendship and understanding.

However, Mark began to notice the change in our dynamics. He would often spot us together around campus, studying in the library, grabbing coffee, or even just chatting and laughing in the university courtyard. Despite our best efforts to keep our growing friendship under wraps, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide the bond that was forming between us.

Mark couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on between his best friend and his sister. The secretiveness of our newfound friendship only heightened his suspicions. Why would Ethan and I keep this a secret from him if there was nothing to hide?

One evening, after a particularly productive tutoring session, Ethan and I were walking back to our dorms when we ran into Mark outside the hockey rink. He looked surprised to see us together, his eyes narrowing as he took in our relaxed demeanor.

"Hey, Y/N, Ethan," Mark greeted, his tone friendly but his eyes betraying a hint of suspicion. "What are you two up to?"

"We just finished a study session," I replied, trying to sound casual. "Ethan's really making progress."

Ethan nodded, offering Mark a genuine smile. "Yeah, Y/N's been a huge help."

Mark studied us for a moment, clearly not buying our casual demeanor. "That's great to hear," he said, his tone still friendly but now laced with curiosity. "You two seem to be spending a lot of time together."

I felt my cheeks heat up, realizing that our secret was becoming harder and harder to keep. "We're just friends, Mark. Nothing more."

Ethan chimed in, "Yeah, just trying to get my grades up and stay on the team."

Mark looked between us, his suspicion not completely alleviated but not wanting to push the issue further. "Alright, just remember, Ethan, she's my sister," he said, half-jokingly but with a serious undertone.

Ethan nodded, "I know, Mark. I'll always respect that." 

Despite Mark's attempt to convince himself that there was nothing going on between Ethan and me, his suspicions continued to gnaw at him. He couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal, knowing that the two closest people in his life were keeping something from him. Even though they weren't explicitly dating, the closeness between Ethan and me felt like a betrayal of his trust.

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As days turned into weeks, Mark found himself growing increasingly frustrated and angry. He couldn't understand why Ethan and I would keep our growing relationship a secret from him if there was nothing more to it. The more he thought about it, the more it fueled his suspicion and resentment.

One evening, Mark confronted me about his suspicions. We were alone in our dorm room, and the tension between us was palpable.

"Y/N, I need to know the truth," Mark said, his voice strained with emotion. "Are you and Ethan... more than just friends?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The truth was that Ethan and I had grown closer over the past few weeks, but we hadn't officially defined our relationship. However, I couldn't deny the growing feelings I had developed for him.

"Mark, I... I don't know what to say," I replied, feeling torn between my loyalty to my brother and my burgeoning feelings for Ethan.

Mark's expression darkened, his anger bubbling to the surface. "Don't play dumb with me, Y/N. I've seen the way you two look at each other, the way you're always together. How could you keep this from me?"

I sighed, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. "I'm sorry, Mark. I never meant to hurt you. It just... happened."

Mark shook his head, unable to hide his disappointment. "I thought I could trust you, Y/N. I thought Ethan was my friend. But it turns out, I was wrong about both of you."

I reached out to him, desperate to mend our fractured relationship. "Mark, please. I know this is difficult, but I care about Ethan. And I care about you. I don't want to lose either of you."

But Mark pulled away, his trust shattered. "I need some time, Y/N. I need to figure out how to deal with this betrayal."

As he left the room, the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. I knew that repairing the damage to our relationship would take time and effort, but I was determined to do whatever it took to make things right.

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During the next hockey practice, the tension between Mark and Ethan was palpable. Both were competitive and passionate about the sport, but the underlying animosity stemming from Mark's feelings of betrayal added a new level of intensity to their interactions on the ice.

As they found themselves on opposite teams during a scrimmage, Mark's aggression towards Ethan became increasingly evident. He was playing more aggressively than usual, delivering harder checks and playing with a level of determination that seemed fueled by his feelings of anger and betrayal.

Ethan, sensing the change in Mark's demeanor, tried to keep his cool and focus on the game. However, it became increasingly challenging as Mark continued to target him, making the practice more of a personal vendetta than a team exercise.

At one point, during a particularly heated moment in the game, Mark delivered a high check to Ethan, causing him to crash into the boards. The impact was hard, and Ethan fell to the ice, clutching his shoulder in pain.

The coach blew the whistle, signaling an end to the scrimmage and rushing onto the ice to check on Ethan's condition. The entire team gathered around, their concern evident as Ethan struggled to his feet, wincing from the pain.

"Are you okay, Ethan?" Coach Naurato asked, his voice filled with concern.

Ethan nodded, trying to brush off the incident. "I'm fine, just a bit shaken up."

Mark, realizing the gravity of his actions, looked visibly remorseful as he approached Ethan. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I let my emotions get the best of me. That was uncalled for."

Ethan looked at Mark, his expression a mix of pain and understanding. "It's okay, Mark. I get it. But we need to figure this out."

The coach, sensing the need to address the situation immediately, called for a team meeting to discuss the underlying issues and find a way to resolve the tension between Mark and Ethan.

"As a team, we need to support each other, both on and off the ice," Coach Naurato began, addressing the entire team. "Personal issues should not interfere with our performance and unity as a team."

Mark and Ethan exchanged a glance, realizing that their personal issues were affecting not only their relationship but also the team's dynamics and performance.

"We need to find a way to resolve our differences and work together for the sake of the team," Ethan said, breaking the silence.

Mark nodded, his expression serious. "I agree, Ethan. I let my emotions cloud my judgment, and I'm sorry."

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When I found out about the altercation between Mark and Ethan during practice, I was furious. I couldn't believe that their personal issues had escalated to the point where it was affecting the entire team. Determined to resolve the situation once and for all, I called them both over to my apartment.

As they entered, they could sense the anger and frustration in my demeanor. I didn't waste any time getting to the point.

"What the hell were you two thinking?" I exclaimed, my voice filled with anger. "You let your personal issues get in the way of the team's performance, and it's not okay!"

Mark and Ethan exchanged a guilty glance, realizing the gravity of their actions and the impact it had on the team.

Before they could respond, I continued, "I'm tired of this tension between you two. If you have a problem with each other, then deal with it like adults and stop letting it affect the team!"

Mark looked at me, his expression a mix of guilt and understanding. "You're right, Y/N. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I'm sorry. It's not fair to you, Ethan, or the team."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my anger. "It's not just about the team, Mark. It's about your friendship with Ethan and your trust in me. I can't believe you would let this situation escalate to the point where it affects our relationship."

Mark looked at me, his expression softening. "Y/N, I've thought about it a lot, and if you and Ethan want to date, I'm okay with it. I'd be happy to have Ethan as a possible brother-in-law. I just need to know that you're both serious about each other and that this won't happen again."

Ethan looked at Mark, surprised by his admission. "Mark, are you serious? You're okay with Y/N and me dating?"

I turned to Ethan, my eyes widening in surprise. "You would want to date me?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and hope.

Ethan smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at me. "Yes, Y/N, I would. Despite our initial disagreements and the challenges we've faced, I've come to care about you deeply. I'd like to see where this relationship could go, if you're willing."

I felt my heart swell with emotion, touched by his sincerity and the vulnerability he was displaying. "Ethan, I've developed feelings for you too. Despite everything, I've come to appreciate the person you are underneath all the bravado. I'd like to see where this could lead as well."

Mark, witnessing the exchange, let out a soft chuckle. "Well, it seems like the feelings are mutual. Just promise me that you both will be honest with each other and with me moving forward. I want you both to be happy, but I also want to make sure that this won't cause any issues with the team or our friendship."

Ethan and I nodded in agreement, grateful for Mark's understanding and support. "We promise, Mark," I assured him. "Our relationship won't change our commitment to our friendship or the team."

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After Mark had given his approval for Ethan and me to date, the dynamic between the three of us shifted noticeably. The tension that once clouded our interactions began to dissipate, replaced by a newfound sense of camaraderie and mutual respect.

Mark, always the protective older brother, now seemed more at ease with our relationship. He made an effort to include Ethan in our family gatherings and often invited him over for dinner or to watch hockey games on TV. It was clear that Mark was trying to build a strong relationship with Ethan, not just as a teammate but now also as a potential future brother-in-law.

One evening, Mark organized a small get-together at our family home. It was an informal gathering, with just a few close friends and teammates. As Ethan and I arrived, Mark greeted us warmly at the door, a genuine smile on his face.

"Hey, you two. Come on in," Mark said, giving me a playful nudge and a wink. "Ethan, glad you could make it."

"Thanks for having us, Mark," Ethan replied, returning the smile. "Smells great in here."

Throughout the evening, Mark made an effort to involve both Ethan and me in conversations, ensuring we felt comfortable and included. He even shared a few embarrassing childhood stories about me, much to my chagrin, but it was all in good fun and made for a lively and enjoyable evening.

As the night wore on, Mark pulled Ethan aside for a private conversation. I couldn't help but feel a bit anxious, wondering what they were discussing. After a few minutes, they rejoined the group, both of them wearing satisfied smiles.

"Everything okay?" I asked, looking between the two of them.

"Yeah, everything's great," Mark replied, putting an arm around Ethan's shoulders. "I've got to say, Y/N, you've picked a good one."

Ethan chuckled, his cheeks turning a shade of red. "Thanks, Mark. I think you're pretty great too."

As the months passed, our relationship continued to flourish, and Mark's initial reservations about Ethan and me dating seemed to fade away completely. He became one of our biggest supporters, always there to offer advice, lend a listening ear, or celebrate our milestones as a couple.

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One weekend, Ethan and I planned a getaway trip to a cabin in the mountains. Knowing that Mark was an experienced hiker and outdoorsman, we invited him to join us. To our surprise, he agreed, and the three of us spent a memorable weekend hiking, exploring, and bonding over shared meals and campfire stories.

By the end of the trip, it was clear that Ethan had earned Mark's trust and respect. They had forged a strong bond, built on mutual interests and a shared love for adventure. As we packed up to leave, Mark pulled Ethan aside for another private conversation.

"Take care of her, okay?" Mark said, his voice filled with sincerity.

"You have my word, Mark," Ethan replied, shaking Mark's hand firmly. "I care about Y/N deeply, and I'll always do my best to make her happy."

As we drove back home, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude and happiness. I was grateful for Ethan's unwavering support and love, but also for Mark's acceptance and the bond we had all formed together.

honestly I hate this, but I wanted to get something out for you guys. Please dont be afraid to request!

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

do you fancy a quickie? word count: 2,5k cw: shameless smut, viktor is a tease (everybody act surprised), no use of y/n, reader is reffered to as spouse. what else? ah yes. semi-public sex.

art cr: @arcanescribbles. saw her viktor in formal wear and instanly knew i had to write something mentioning it. *standard 'english is not my first language please don't be mean to me' bullshit*

It felt immaculate. The languid wince of bright eyes, the smirk you were wearing — chiselled just perfectly precisely for a moment like this, as if you were an inborn heartthrob rejecting unfortunate suitors left and right — a natural, if you will. 

“I appreciate the compliment,” you started from a far, making sure — patently by total accident — to casually snake a dextrous hand up your chest, resting it right above your cleavage — just where that fool’s eyes were devouring you. “But I am simply not interested. I’m married.”

You’re savoring the drop of his face when he notices the ring. You just wiped a grin off a man’s face with class — surely, that must’ve felt spectacular, and you rejoiced when he hummed — suddenly all clumsy and simply pitiful — and, with a rather impolite mumble of a sharp ‘excuse me’, walked away, leaving you all proud and unapproachable. Yeah, that’s right. Don’t ask me for a hand in a dance, gentlemen — because someone has already put a ring on it. 

You got back to chugging on your champagne, lips tightly closed around the rim of that ridiculously fancy glass, although it matched the ridiculously fancy gown you were impressing the so-called select society with tonight. And it actually worked (or so it seems),  since you managed to strike the fancy of the mentioned earlier tipsy sir, who were now pouting his lips like an offended child, turning his subtle drunkenness into a full-blown intoxication; squinting, and ranting, and swallowing yet another drink as he kept whining about your flawless rejection to a bunch of sympathetic peers. 

But you couldn’t care less — not when you were just minutes away from leaving this bougie ballroom behind, with all its curious glances and endless mingling; so many faces, when you only wanted to stare into the sharpness of one — with two moles piercing the pale canvas of skin and cheekbones hollow enough to stroke a soft finger over the lines of them, demanding a kiss. You sigh — almost dreamily in the way your head wearily leans its weight onto the back of your palm. So cliché, but who are they to blame you? Not when your husband is such a sight, and certainly not when your husband is such a sound — raspy, low, and, frankly – simply hot, and you giggle at the thought, sinking two front teeth into the pad of your thumb. 

You barely understand a word when Viktor tells the inquisitive Upsiders about the Hexclaw glove, yet still absorb each moment of his speech with tender thoroughness, because listening to him talk — about anything, really — is a privilege, one you cherished dearly and with genuine care. You were an admirer, watching him — all intelligent and so pensive, in that suit, with that raw passion in the depth of copper eyes, on that stage. And comprehension is not necessary — not when you see how talking about his inventions lights him up; so bright, that he could easily outshine the golden boy. In your loving eyes, at the very least. 

He notices when you join the round of enthusiastic applause, quietly thanking his audience for the attention — pensive and polite, so uniquely pretty in his demureness. It feels like showing him off, and that grin stretches even further across your face when he goes down the stage to walk up in your direction. 

You’re not subtle with that kiss. Pulling on his tie, shamelessly pushing your tongue into his mouth, knowing that they stare, and when Viktor — all wide-eyed and smitten — reciprocates, humming into the heat of your lips, you’re gone. He’s breathless when it’s over, arches a thick eyebrow in a curious manner, sinking your proud expression in. 

“What was that for?” he chuckles, feeling the damage done to his bottom lip with your teeth. 

“Can’t I kiss my husband simply because I felt like it?” you purr in response, greedily eyeing him. 

He laughs. You stroke a hand over the rise of his chest, and he clutches his cane — the pretty one for special occasions, with elegant carving and gilding. 

A thin arm wrapped around your waist coaxes you to jump off the stool, allowing him to steal an embrace. Can’t resist Viktor in a suit. In his other attire too, of course, but god does he look spectacular all dressed up. It’s almost like he was made for all the blazers, vests, and ironed shirts — an inborn gentleman, sickeningly handsome.  

His gaze travels down, to the oh so taunting cut of the silky dress: a peek of garter holding the elegant stocking, and you notice just how he relentlessly fails not to drool over you too shamelessly.

“How was my, er, speech?” he asks, practically forcing himself to rip those eyes off your hip. “I suppose it went rather well — very laconically, if I do say so myself. However, I’m afraid that Jayce is much more natural when it comes to keeping the audience entertained.”

“I was too busy listening to you to pay much attention to the golden boy,” you confess, straightening his vest for him — another excuse to touch him, but Viktor decides to touch you instead.

“That is rather disrespectful,” he scoffs, gently capturing your wrist into the warmth of his hand, and before you can react — presses a chaste kiss to the back of your palm. Damn him and his gentlemanly tricks. 

“Perhaps,” you shrug, giggling when his breath tickles your knuckles. “But you did amazing. Truly.”

“I am flattered,” he acknowledges, letting go of your wrist. His touch lingers there — warm and domestic, a wordless way of returning the courtesy. “I hope that my brief absence didn’t bore you too much?”

“Not in the slightest,” you assured him with a wry smile, and he met your words with another inquisitive hum. “Some very persistent gentleman kept trying to convince me that I need an interlocutor.”

“Is that so?” the inventor asked, evidently amused by your revelation. “And just how did that go for him, may I ask?”

“He was heartbroken to hear that I was married, you see,” you sigh, and your lips protrude into a pout — one of fake, rather comical sympathy.

“What a pity,” Viktor retorted, blessing your ears with that low, raspy laugh of his. “I hope the news didn’t crush him.” 

“Ah, don’t even bother. You hope they did.”

“What an accusation,” he exclaims, and your hands ache to strangle him with that pretty tie. “Though not an entirely unreasonable one, I must admit.”

“My point exactly,” you bite back, and your arms rush to be wrapped around the bastard's neck, chest pressed flush to his, heartbeats mingling into a mess of thuds. 

Sinewy fingers don’t hesitate to slip into the cut of your dress. They also don’t falter to cautiously crawl into the band of your stocking, almost forcing you to whimper his name into the crook of his neck — an indirect plea to proceed in private. 

“Such a mouthy thing,” Viktor whispers, and you’re done with him, almost ready to demand he bends you over in front of those very Topsiders. “Just what shall I do with you, hm?” 

He’s hard against your thigh, even a hint of friction has him jolting, hissing a quiet curse into your mouth when he occupies it with a kiss again — one too lewd to be appropriate for public eyes. 

“You should steal me away,” you suggest, staring into the madness of heavy eyes piercing yours. “For some fresh air, of course.”

“Fresh air?” he mocks, shaking his head in fake disapproval. “Is that the only reason? Not that I’m reluctant to be alone with you — quite the opposite, actually. I simply doubt that it’s the real, eh… purpose of the encounter you’re suggesting.”

Fuck’s sake. He’s utterly incorrigible. Thanks Janna you love this man. 

You sigh, struggling to suppress the urge to slap him. 

“Do you fancy a quickie?” you finally surrender, knowing damn well that to out-smartass Viktor is simply impossible. Besides — the way his lips stretch into a thin handsome line feels greater than any meaningless pleasure a well-aimed smart comment could ever bring.

It feels even better when his mouth hovers above your ear, purring out a sweet, “I most certainly do.”

***

You squeak when he presses you against the cool bathroom wall, and a cautious hand cradles the back of your head, preventing it from repeating the dreary fate of his cane, which had just hit the floor with a loud thud. You, on the other hand — no pun intended, of course — are not that careful with your limbs, fingers already tangled into his hair, messing up its unusually neat style. He’s kissing you with desperation: rush didn’t leave him any time for hesitation, but you’ll gladly take him like this — all frantic, cock an aching swell inside his finest dress pants. 

“Darling,” he keens, licking at the fresh proof of his lust after you, as if trying to soothe the pain from his teeth needling into the softness of your neck. 

“Yes?” you breathe out, thoughts a mush of smutty images, but the limited privacy of this bathroom is not enough for a full-course debauchery. They call it a quickie for a reason. 

His hand slips under your gown, shamelessly kneading the plumpness of ass, ready to free you of the lace underwear. 

“No,” you pull away, shaking your head with a sharp inhale. “We don’t have time for this.” Your outfit is too impractical to allow him the pleasure of undressing you even partially, even though you’d love to let him have his way with you.

“But, beloved, isn’t that what we’re here for?” he protests, but you shut him up with another kiss, and, while he suffocates against your mouth, smoothly turn him around, firmly capturing between the wall and your softly pushed between his legs knee.

“I had other plans,” you reply, kissing down his jugular — some brief foreplay before abruptly sinking down.

“Oh,” he lets out a shaky laugh, leaning that bright head against the wall, but his eyes never leave yours — they attentively follow your every motion, carnal need thickly seeping out of them. “You’ll get on your knees for me? In that dress? My, I might’ve done something good in my past life.” 

“Will you please shut up?” you snarl, fighting with the buttons of his pants, and he nods, figuratively zipping his mouth with one dextrous move of a hand, informing you that his lips are sealed. Viktor knows better than to talk back to a person who’s about to suck him off. Teeth are a rather dangerous weapon.

He tenses up when you tease the head of his cock — slightly swollen flesh a pretty shade of pink, so sensitive, that it twitches against the warmth of your fingers when you wrap them around the hilt.

He goes quiet, but not purely for the sake of not getting caught. He watches you in fascination: mouth forms a silent ‘ah’ the second you dip your tongue into the slit, and precum coats its tip, all sticky and bitterish. You both know he won’t last long — your next ministration proves it, relentlessly riding him of his wits. 

You kiss at his shaft with tenderness, to the point when it becomes barely palpable, so he squirms, demanding the resumption, and you can’t help but smile against the velvety skin of his tip. Pearly liquid clings to your bottom lip, forming a translucent trail — a mixture of him mingled with your saliva; just enough lubrication to slip lower, licking at the sensitive frenulum. Viktor lets out an illegible sound — you recognise a keen of your name in it, and it earns him one languid stroke — just the tiniest mercy. 

“Don’t you just love to torture me?” he sighs, looking down — all vulnerable and pretty, weak knees threatening to start trembling any second. 

“I’m only using your weapons against you,” a sweet reproach rolls of the very tongue you’re tormenting him with, and he swallows the most delicious whimper when you swirl it around the tip — once, twice, but thrice is what finally has him slapping a palm over his open mouth to muffle a dirty moan. 

He abstains from grabbing a handful of your hair, reluctant to ruin its whimsical style — because at least one of the spouses has to be an actually considerate lover. His long legs are struggling to keep in place, relentlessly spreading apart with each bob of your head — but he’s leaned against the wall securely enough not to fall. 

You swallow around him in a rather messy rhythm, but it still manages to reduce Viktor to a mush of babbles and incoherent praises. You have him by the balls — quite literally, because your free from squeezing his width hand is cruel enough to knead them, dragging more throaty sounds of pleasure out the thrusting into your mouth man. 

You’re fucking him with skill, painfully aware of just what goes through his head in this exact moment: that orgasm will be intense enough to hurt, making him wish you’d rather proceeded with those teasing licks and fleeting kisses. His hips jerk when you suppress the gag, taking him whole, not a single inch left without your thorough attention. Even the hand shoving those moans back into his lungs doesn’t stop him from letting out the most embarrassingly high-pitched keen — it breaks free when he coats your tongue in warm spurts of thick cum. You stick it out, allowing him a pornographic view of exactly what he’d just done to you, and he almost sobs, completely forgetting about his initial intentions of keeping quiet. 

“Gods a-above,” he stutters, suffocating like he’s the one whose mouth was just frantically fucked, wiping his release of your lips with his trembling thumb — a gesture of gratitude, tender in comparison to the curses he was panting just seconds ago. 

The air is thick with the smell of sex, raunchy enough for anyone who decides to walk into this bathroom to meticulously define what the two of you’d just committed in it. Even getting off your knees and tucking him back into his pants wouldn’t help your condition — the pure way Viktor looks at you right now makes it all appallingly obvious. One doesn’t need to become a witness of the intercourse itself to confidently state “They’ve just fucked, Your Honor.” It’s written on both of your faces, on the mess of his hair, and, of course — on the burning under the thin material of stockings redness of your knees. 

You accept his touch, swallowing the remnants of his climax still covering your tired tongue, and he sighs, engraving the sight into his mind — probably to get off to the thought of it someday. But you decide not to tease him about it. You’re not that evil after all. 

You’ve never stormed out of the bathroom so fast before, all trembling limbs and nasty giggles —  the afterglow of your shared secret, dirty enough to banish Viktor from the Academy. 

He’ll recall it later, most definitely the next Progress Day, when you’ll wrap those impatient arms around his neck, whispering the famous “Do you fancy a quickie?” into his ear again. 

Except for this time your outfit will be easily removable. 

[tonowarii]

can i request a tsu'tey x dreamwalker!reader where he just indulge them in their rambles about earth?? reader is just talking about the most random things like cats and he's just there sitting next to her, listening. could be fem or gn reader, up to u!

(im a sucker for tsu'tey lmao)

and you shall receive!! ❤️ i'm sorry this took too long omg

tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan x gn! dreamwalker! reader

Tsu'tey would rather feed himself to a thanator than to admit that one of his most awaited (and favorite) past times is where he's sat beside you, hearing you ramble on about anything and everything about your home town, which was earth. A planet away.

Now, his eyes carefully watched you as you made all these gestures from your hands as every expression you made enchanced your story.

Then something sparked in your head as you pointed a finger.

"Now, I don't know if this is a coincidence but have you noticed that we- or the na'vi look like cats!" You turned to Tsu'tey.

Tsu'tey's brows furrowed. What in Eywa was a "cat" and why does it look like them?

"What is a cat?" Tsu'tey asked, hoping that it further indulged you in your rambling.

You gasp out loud like what he said was something blasphemous. It had him confused.

"Okay, cats! Where do I start?" You think for a moment before you used your hands to show him an approximate size of cats back on earth. "They're this small... Wait is this correct... That reminds me I haven't seen a cat in a long time.." You battled with yourself as Tsu'tey chuckled.

Knowing someone was listening to you, you went back on explaining. "They're this small, at least I think so," You think again. "And they have ears like us." You said, pointing at his ears. "They have noses like us too." Then pointing at his nose.

"And don't forget about the tails, they have that too." You say, motioning to Tsu'tey's tail who was curled next to yours as you sat beside each other.

Tsu'tey nods, following your words.

"But they can be quite mean sometimes... And annoying, but we, humans, love them nonetheless." You added.

"Ah, can they.. Speak?" Tsu'tey asked.

"No, not really they just.. Meow." You answered.

Tsu'tey chuckled at the sound you made. Truly this 'cat' sounds something he'd like to see up close due to your impressive storytelling.

"Then why do you find them annoying?" He continued to ask more questions, getting to hear your voice being filled with wonder as you reminisced truly had an effect on him.

There was indeed no one like you.

"As far as I can remember, they tend to whine at me begging for more food when I just fed them!" You laugh. "I had a cat once and gods," You sighed.

"He always knocks things off of my table back in my house."

Tsu'tey seems amused. "Like- he would just look at me and let's say there was a pen on the table, he'd look at me-" You say, looking at Tsu'tey to demonstrate how he'd look.

"And he's using his little paw and his audacity to flick it off the table!"

Even though Tsu'tey couldn't understand parts of your sentence he truly felt that it annoyed you, but your smile said otherwise.

"Am I... like cat?" Tsu'tey asked.

Your eyes widened and you laughed. "I mean, yes.. Well yea actually now that I think about it-"

"You find me annoying?" He tilts his head, smirk now forming his mouth.

You quickly shake your head. "No! No! You are far from annoying." You defensively state.

"But you are like a cat." You smile up at him.

"How so?"

You laugh as you think of the reasons, holding a finger up for each one.

"One, you like to climb, don't you? Second, you have this habit of staring at people like you're judging them-"

"I do not do that-"

"Yes you do. Third, you like to be clingy when no one's around and when you're faced with other people you're suddenly this big intimidating creature." You laugh as Tsu'tey scrunches his face.

"I do not like this anymore."

You laugh further, leaning onto him as his arm suddenly wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you close to him.

"See, you are a cat, Tsu'tey, ma yawne."

He shakes his head with a small smile on his face.

"Oh! And fourth, you purr." You giggle, nuzzling yourself on his chest, indeed hearing a faint purring from him as you lay close.

Tsu'tey shakes his head, rubbing your arm as you thought about another topic you could talk his ear off of.

[notfreetoday]

My Personal Weatherman Ep 1 Subtitle Corrections

So I've been analysing the way MPW uses language to showcase the dynamic between Segasaki and Yoh - something that I suspect is not quite coming through with the English subs - and decided to watch Ep 1-3 again, with Eng subs this time. I am now going to complain about some of the subtitle and translation choices and edit them way too literally because I'm nerdy like that.

Disclaimer: Everyone translates differently for different audiences. This is not meant to disrespect the official translation team in any way because they are subbing for a more general audience and have different pressures, so don't come at me or them for our different priorities. I'm talking to the particular group of viewers who like this show and/or like Japanese and want to go a step further in interacting with the characters. That said, I'm happy to discuss MY translation choices so please feel free to drop in about any line.

Under cut because this GOT REALLY LONG.

I'm translating directly from the Jp, so sometimes my subs differ only slightly - I will lean towards a more literal translation here because that will allow me to explain my language analysis better in a follow up post so some phrasing may be awkward. Big changes/missing info have been italicised and bolded. Explanations of nuances/connotations have been added where I feel they add to the understanding of the character/scene, and the relevant phrase is marked with * in my translation and the Jp.

Ep 1

[S: だから、漫画つずけりゃいいじゃんって　衣食住の金は保証してやるから　おれんとこに来い。んで、その代わり　*俺の言うこと全部聞け]

Original: I said, just keep drawing manga. I’ll take care of your food and lodging *expenses, so come to my place. And in return, you’ll do everything I say.

Mine: I said, *it's fine (for you) to continue (being a) manga (artist). I'll take care of the expenses for your *food, clothing and lodging so, come (live) at my place. And, in exchange for that, (you must) *listen to everything I say.

*This whole paragraph is extremely blunt and direct. Every sentence is worded as an order, and this last line especially - the word "listen" is used here to mean "obey" - so this line really translates to, "in exchange for that, (I want you) to obey my every word". The reason it's not been translated this way is that it sounds so strong it borders on corny in English. In Jp though, the connotation of "obey" comes across not in the words but in the extremely strong/direct delivery of the line (contrasted with the extremely nonchalent tone), so it sounds more shocking/overbearing than it does corny. The original translation here works very well actually.

Technically Segasaki introduces himself here as 気象解説員 (weather forecaster) as opposed to 気象予報士 (meteorologist), but in the show's character bios, and when Man-san talks about him later, he's called a meteorologist anyway, so this difference is of absolutely no importance (I'm just anal like that). FYI, in Japan, all qualified meteorologists (who must pass a national exam) can be forecasters, but not all forecasters have this qualification.

[Y: 明日も雨…か*] Original: More rain tomorrow Mine: There'll be rain again tomorrow, huh? *Said with a falling tone, the "huh" here hints that Yoh is likely a little down/disappointed about the rain continuing, and lays the ground for his reaction later about the rainy season.

[M: 人を沼に召喚しといて　何なの？その態度 S: いや　むしろ　万さんがかなり能動的に突っ込んできた印象しかないんだけど M: ごちゃごちゃうるさい　ややこしいオタクめ S: ごめん　ややこしくて]

Original: M: Why summon someone into your otaku pit and act like that? Y: No, it’s more like you actively intrude into my life M: You’re being noisy and complicated, you complicated otaku Y: Sorry for being complicated…

Mine: M: (You’re the one who) dragged me into this fandom, (so) what’s with that attitude? Y: No, on the contrary, I have the distinct impression that it was you, Man-san, who pretty much jumped right in of your own volition M: (You’re) babbling nonsense (you) troublesome otaku Y: Sorry for being troublesome

[S: めし　なに？ Y: あ、しょーしょうがやき]

Original: S: What do you want for dinner? Y: Stir-fried ginger

Mine: S: What's for dinner? Y: Sho-shogayaki

Shogayaki is a style of cooking meat, usually pork, where you stir fry the meat with ginger. Unless the type of meat is specified, it refers to Pork Stir Fried with Ginger, or Ginger Pork Stir Fry. Very common home cooked dish.

[S: あ、そ] (A, so?) S: Oh, is that so?

"I see" is a totally ok translation too. "A, so" can mean "Oh I see" or "Oh is that right" or "Oh is that so" etcetc but it has the air of a really bored "Oh, really?/Sure/If you say so" This is why Yoh's reaction after this is "if you aren't interested then don't ask!". This is the first of many times that Segasaki will use this phrase, as we will see in the following episodes, so I'm highlighting it here for now.

No translation issues here - but I just want to point out that it's reeaaally difficult to make tasteless shogayaki hahaha If you've had ginger stir fried in anything you'll know - it's not a meek herb at all. Canonically, Yoh is apparently a really bad cook. This will be pointed out again later, when he makes curry, because again, it's gotta be some kind of talent to make bland japanese curry; it's r*eeeeaally *easy. Anyway, the sauce that Segasaki asks for here is Soy Sauce, which is different from the sauce that he asks for later! Seems like a few people think they're the same thing (also pay attention to the sauce rack position here - Yoh'll will move it closer to himself by their next dinner hahaha)

[Y: ちかいんだよ、いちいち*] Y: He (leans in) so close, every (damn) time*!

*Not sure if this comes across, but the word for "every time" here is usually associated with slight annoyance, but the way "close" is said here implies Yoh's a little bashful about it.

[Y: 雨、多いな*] (ame, ooi *na...) Y: Rain...so much of it*

*This has the same feel as the "there'll be rain again tomorrow...huh" that we first saw earlier this episode. The ending particle "~na" bakes in a sigh and a sense of disappointment here (if you didn't notice the utter depression on Yoh's face lol)

[S: めし、まだ？] S: Food's not ready yet?

See, you don't notice it with the Eng translations because even the most basic Eng grammar will form a complete sentence. In Jp though, Segasaki is once again taking "man of a few words" to the extreme. He has taken out every single part of the sentence he possibly can whilst still keeping it grammatically complete. So this line is literally just "Food, not yet?". He's done this throughout the episode btw - it's why he comes across as so cold/distant.

[Y: やっぱ　わかんねえよな] Mine: As I thought, he doesn't understand...

[Y: 結局　従ってしまう自分の従順さが憎い*] Original: I hate my obedience, always giving in Mine: In the end, the obedient part of me that always ends up following his orders - I hate* it

*the word used for "hate" here is "nikui" which is different from the word Yoh uses when he says he "hates (dai kirai)" Segasaki. "dai kirai" is simply the opposite of "dai suki" - to really like, so is more accurately "really dislike" than it is "hate" (even though it is frequently translated as such). "Nikui", which is much stronger word, bringing to mind the idea of a "strong rejection of/detest/disgust for" something.

If you didn't already know, the word "embrace" aka "抱く" here is a euphemism for "to sleep with (somebody).

Shoyu = Soy Sauce. Sauce = worcestershire sauce, unless you're in a tonkatsu shop. Then sauce = tonkatsu sauce (which is a slightly different variation). Don't look at me, I don't make the rules.

(This is very long but I'm going to write the whole monologue here)

[Y: 晴れ予報の度に抱かれて 晴れ　なんて単語は　暗いなかで湿っぽく行われる　それとは　ちぐはぐなイメージなのに。。。 まるでやらしい言葉みたいに　頭に刷り込まれていって わかってんのか？　あんたの口から　予報をきいて　どんな気持ちになるか わかんないんだろうな　一生考えもしないだろうな だってあんたは　恋人でもない俺に　平気でこんなことができる]

Original: Every time there’s a sunny forecast, he does it with me The word sunny feels out of place for such activity in a dark and damp room It’s as if it’s such a lewd word being forced into my mind Do you understand, how I feel when I hear that word from your mouth? You probably won’t understand or even think about it for your entire life You have no problem sleeping with someone you’re not even going out with

Mine: (He) embraces (me) every time the forecast is sunny A word like “sunny” … (brings up) a completely different image from that damp, humid activity taking place in the dark And yet (to me) it seems like a lewd, obscene word, searing (the image of) itself into my brain Do you understand? How exactly I feel when I hear the forecast from your mouth? You probably don't understand, do you? Probably won't ever think about it your entire life, right? Because you're able to do this with me, (someone)who isn't even your lover, without any issues at all

This line was ad-libbed btw, if you didn't already know (link leads to Kouhei's 16th Aug IG livestream, and his explanation starts around 07:20 mark) They've talked about this a few times on both their IG lives, and Kouhei seems to get prouder about it each time hahaha. In the linked IG, Kouhei said:

(reading a fan comment) "More" was an ad-lib?? I'm gonna die

Kouhei: Yea it was…ah that was…um, Mashiko-kun… Acchan (his nickname for Atsuki) gave me a really good expression so…somehow, (by the time) I realised (what I had done), yes, (by the time) I realised it,I had said it. Well probably saying "by the time I realised it" is weird but… yes. By the time I realised it... "even more"…(I'd wanted him) to open his mouth more so. Yes. That's all.

[S: そこそこ高給取りになる予定*だから] Original: I'm planning to *become a high earner Mine: It's likely* that I'm gonna be drawing a pretty decent salary so...

*The exact wording here is actually "(it has been) planned that (I will) become (someone) drawing a pretty decent salary so" - the way this is phrased indicates that this conversation probably happened in Segasaki's last year of university, probably right before he graduated when he already had a job lined up for himself. In Japan, your final year of university is spent interning at companies and if they like you, you'll stay on as a salaried worker, so most graduates will have something lined up before they officially leave university.

[Y: 流されるな] Y: Don't get swept away (by this) This phrase is usually used to warn people not to let themselves be swept away/caught up by the latest trends/public perception/societal expectations/their own emotions/panic etc Here, together with his insistence that he's just Segasaki's slave and so obeying him is a natural consequence, and so is sleeping with him (as opposed to Yoh doing it because he likes/wants to) - Yoh is basically telling himself "don't get swept away" by the situation/his feelings because their relationship doesn't mean anything.

[Y: じゃあ、しばらく…ないのか。*slaps face* しばらくしなくていいんだ！]

Original: So, it won't be happening, for a while huh? *slaps face* I'm fine without it for a while, right?

Mine: So then... there won't be... for a while, huh... *slaps face* (It should be) "I don't have to do it for a while!"

Again, you can see, Yoh's literally spent this entire episode trying to convince himself that he's not actually in love with Segasaki, and everything he does for Segasaki, be it listening to him, or sleeping with him etc, he does simply because he is fulfilling his end of the bargain as "a slave".

OMFG I FINISHED THAT WAS TOO DAMN LONG.

I will finish Ep 2 & 3 before I do the language analysis post. But first... I need a break....

[comicaurora]

are you scared of the whole AI art thing? What do you think about it?

"Scared" is the wrong word, I think. "Pissed" is probably more accurate. The technology underlying the concept is interesting, but its current form transparently functions by mining data from artists who didn't consent to have their work used like that. Arguments over whether it's "real art" or whatever aside, that is unethical and gross and a class-action lawsuit waiting to happen.

I think the people scared that this is going to replace actual living artists are severely overestimating the technology at play here and possibly don't understand computers very much.

The reason why computers are a fascinating mix of very smart and very stupid is because they are only good at doing exactly what they are told. Human thought, communication and creation is based on a process of flexible interpretation. Our brains take in patterns of light and sound and interpret them into shapes and figures and speech - a process that is imperfect, messy and susceptible to any number of disruptions from minor chemical alterations to major brain injuries. We read text and subtext and emotional undertones into what we hear, we extrapolate assumptions from the things we see. It's an extremely messy process with a lot of room for error, as evinced by miscommunications, corner-of-the-eye shadow people, "are you mad at me I feel like you're mad at me", getting hangry, assigning personalities to car taillights, audio processing disorders, and about a million other human idiosyncrasies.

Art, down to its bones, is about interpretation - the artist interpreting a slice of the world and the audience interpreting that art. This is why no two people experience the same story the same way, and why no two artists create the same work.

Computers, in contrast, are not messy. Or, to be more accurate, they aren't naturally messy. They do exactly what they are told. They have no context, no axioms, no common sense and no rules except what they're given. A human told to write a sentence over and over again and never being told to stop will eventually get bored or tired or hungry or pissed and stop. A computer told to 'while 1: printf("Hello World!")' will do it forever until the power goes out or someone notices and forces it to stop. A person told "hey man can you go to the store and get me a mango, and if they have apples get five" will acquire a mango and possibly five apples. A computer told the same instruction may well turn up with five mangos. A computer won't do anything if you forget to close a parenthesis or put in a semicolon somewhere in a thousand lines of code because it's doing exactly what it's told. The eternal frustration of computer science is figuring out why the stupid computer isn't doing what you told it to do, and the answer is always "you didn't tell it what to do right. Find the missing parenthesis. Don't capitalize that one variable."

An artist told to paint a fantastical landscape might paint beautiful mountains or flying cities or the high, arching curves of Saturn-style rings or ancient ruins or massive skeletons or any number of things. A computer told to render a fantastical landscape will, as I understand it, comb through a database it's been given by a human, find works a human or a human-trained algorithm tagged with "fantastical" "landscape" (or, if it's been made a little more complex, a word-web of other tags commonly added by a human to things tagged with "fantastical" and "landscape") and use a very impressive program created by a human to recombine them into a mashup of "fantastical" "landscapes" that may or may not parse correctly to the human who looks at it. The computer doesn't know. The computer isn't thinking. It's just doing what it's been told to do.

If we stop thinking of computers like people that are going to take our jobs and start thinking of them like tools that people use, the whole situation becomes a lot clearer. The technology isn't the problem. The people who baked in stolen datasets and the people who are using the tool to be dicks to artists are the problem. I'm not scared of the tech and I'm not scared of the people - I just wish they'd stop being dicks.

And even if we do reach the theoretical point where a computer can create art that actually stands up to scrutiny - you know, where the hands don't look like calamari plates and the eyes and teeth don't blur together and sharp delineating lines between clothing and skin don't just sort of dissolve into shadowy vagueness - I think that'll be the point we just shift into the "holy shit! two cakes!!" zone. 3D animation didn't make 2D animation obsolete. 4K screens didn't kill pixel art. The printing press didn't kill painting. Video only killed the radio star until podcasts brought them back. People enjoy lots of things.

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno May Promptasmagorah; cw for schmoop like whoa.]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) 22: (k)night (23) (24)

John, for a split-second, thinks he's hallucinating. He's knackered to the point of swaying on his feet from a double shift followed by-- because apparently he'd been a bastard in a past life-- a bloody 'morale building' staff meeting that had made him want to gouge his eyes out.

Alright, he also might be a bastard in this life. But the point is, he hears Sherlock's voice despite there being no Sherlock in the room.

'Ibn is a rather naughty horse, isn't he?'

The sound is tinny but discernible, and John fwumps down into his chair to eye the baby monitor. The camera is aimed at Rosie's cot, of course, so it's mostly Sherlock's shoulder as he leans over with a book. John's tired brain flips through the rolodex of bedtime stories until it hits upon the one with a big white horse named, of all things, Ibn Rafferty.

'But he is fun to ride, and nice to everyone while being ridden.'

He hears Sherlock pause. 'Do you know, Rosamund, that's arguably the first definition of chivalry.'

John blinks. Not where he'd thought that was going, but all right.

'The word "chivalry" is derived from the Old French term "chevalerie,"' Sherlock continues. 'And it was meant to describe soldiers who fought on horseback.'

John snorts. His daughter is brilliant, obviously, but there's not a chance in hell she's understanding this. Unless Sherlock is drawing some truly impressive illustrations off-camera. Which, he supposes, is disturbingly plausible.

'These soldiers became standards of good behaviour, you see. On a horse, you're much taller than everyone else, aren't you? And horses can kick, or be otherwise very rude. So, the guideline for chivalry became, essentially, don't be rude to people who don't have a horse.'

'Don't be rude,' Rosie echoes, and John supposes that's what he'd want her to get out of this lesson, really.

But Sherlock's not finished. 'It had many iterations, of course, but eventually became a ritualised outlook on romantic love.'

John's brows shoot up. He'd've thought this subject to be one Sherlock would delete. Courtly love will likely never solve him a case, after all.

'One of the rituals, for example, was the High Minnie.'

Rosie is interested enough to ask through a yawn: 'Minnie Mouse?'

Sherlock chuckles. 'No, m-i-n-n-e. German. "Hohe Minne" colloquially means "high love."'

Yeah, clearly Sherlock is aware John can hear him. Even he's not going to use the word "colloquially" for the benefit of a toddler.

'It's when a knight-- the person on the horse-- goes through a series of trials to prove their love to someone. For instance, being willing to sacrifice themself to save the person they love. Making a long journey fraught with peril and hurt. Taking on a mighty monster.'

John's tired old heart clenches in his chest. Sherlock knows he's listening, all right.

'Now,' the detective continues, 'in the stories, after all these trials fail to win their beloved's heart, the knight finally accepts that their love is unrequited.'

He pauses. Rosie, John can see in the monitor, is languid with sleep, caught by Sherlock's rich voice and about to go under.

'And when love is unrequited, it can hurt very badly. But the knight knows those sacrifices were worth it, in the end, regardless. Because that's simply what love is, sometimes.'

John rubs absently at his chest. It's too much, he's so tired and so in love that it's almost too much.

On the monitor, Rosie's little brows seem to scrunch together, and she moves, rolls a little towards Sherlock. Who chuckles, wry but warm, as he rubs her tummy. 'It's alright, little bumble. Sometimes the knight does get their love, in the end. And it's the best reward in the world.' The shape of him on the screen leans in and kisses Rosie softly. 'Especially when it comes with little girls named Watson.'

John finds he has to look away from the monitor. His eyes are stinging, and now it's not just from exhaustion.

'You're a menace, Sherlock Holmes,' he calls quietly as he hears the stairs creak faithfully under Sherlock's socked feet.

'I know,' the detective says as he crosses the room. He leans on the arms of John's chair and kisses him briefly, their mouths clinging. 'But you found me worthy, in the end.'

'In the end, in the beginning, in the middle,' John counters. Sherlock raises an eyebrow. 'Alright,' John concedes. 'Maybe not in the middle, there, for a bit.' His smile is slow but genuine. 'But you prove yourself with every nappy, every boring case, every time you think before you throw yourself to the wolves.'

'I do try,' Sherlock deflects, his skin heating up. They've both about reached their limit for sentiment for the evening, John thinks.

'Then shut up and try this, you bastard.' And he pulls Sherlock down once more.

[❤️]

[I did mediaeval re-creation for 15 years, so this is where my brain went when I saw the prompt. The book Sherlock's reading from is 'Our Animal Friends at Maple Hill Farm' by Alice & Martin Provensen. I learned of hohe minne in Leverage 4x15, 'The Lonely Hearts Job.']

[itadorey]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

pairing: childe x reader summary: in which you, the late signora's apprentice, have been assigned to take over one of the two empty harbinger roles, and childe can't help but worry about you. or alternatively, childe tries to rizz you up in the middle of la signora's funeral. wc: ~1.6k notes: more of a character study based on the "a winter night's lazzo" trailer. reader has a vision but it's only mentioned briefly.

the air is almost stifling as you look around, trying to ignore the mournful tune coming out of columbina's mouth.

the silvery metal of the coffin at the head of the room catches the light every so often, glinting just enough to catch your eye no matter how hard you try to keep your gaze elsewhere. it seems to mock, you, a reminder of the mentor who taught you so much yet told you so little. you don't miss her, of course you don't. from the very beginning, you knew you were merely another pawn for her to use; someone who she thought was talented, but ultimately disposable. that thought alone makes you feel some kind of morbid pride when you realize that you've managed to replace her.

a low hum comes from beside you, and you refuse to turn when you feel a certain redheaded harbinger lean in closer to you, nudging you with his elbow as he did so. childe lets out a small, frustrated huff when you refuse to meet his gaze, choosing instead to tilt his head down towards you. you can feel his hair brushing against your cheek and breath tickling the shell of your ear, an annoyance so great you finally break and face him, ready to tell him off. pulcinella starts speaking before you can do so.

"we are gathered here today to remember our dear comrade. in honor of her sacrifice, all work should halt for half a day as the nation mourns her passing."

your gaze is immediately drawn away from childe and towards pulcinella, your fingers twitching at his words. the action doesn't go unnoticed by childe, and he reaches over to grab your hand, pouting when you scowl and scoot away. his attention is quickly brought back to the rest of the harbingers, and he can't help but roll his eyes as someone else begins to speak.

"merely half a day?" pantalone says, chuckling lightly as he repeats pulcinella's words. you can't help the shiver that runs down your spine; pantalone's voice alone is enough to instill caution into you. "people may say that the northland bank's rue currencies are blood and tears, but mayor, even speaking as a banker that sounds a little unconscionable."

childe can't help but stare at you, watching as you nod your head absentmindedly. he's interested in your lack of emotion. sure, you're agreeing with pantalone's statement, but nothing about your demeanor suggests that you're actually upset about la signora's demise. you're just bothered with the lack of respect being given to a fallen comrade. a part of him is annoyed, all his delusions about comforting you in your time of grief dissipating in that very moment. another part of him is impressed; he can't deny that the tsaritsa really does know how to pick her harbingers.

"rosalyne died in a foreign land," arlecchino's voice is loud enough to drown out columbina's singing. "but you heartless businessmen and dignitaries always with a convenient excuse to remain in the comfort of your homeland. you couldn't hope to understand, so why don't you keep your mouths shut! we don't want to make the children cry."

there's an almost unnoticeable exchange between you and arlecchino, the two of you nodding at each other before looking away. childe's eyes don't leave your face as you sigh softly, directing one last glance at the coffin before turning your head to the side.

"hey, c'mon now," childe says, his tone a little too bright for the current situation. "even i don't think this is the right time or place for a fight."

there's a brief second in which you whip your head around to meet his eyes, mild surprise visible as you process his words. childe finds himself wondering why he spoke. (he tells himself that it's to respect la signora's memory).

"utterly risible," sandrone says. you can't help but roll your eyes, glaring at her as you try to figure out who her words were aimed at. childe frowns when he notices your attention is no longer on him, and he chooses to burrow into his scarf as he scoots closer to you. he blames it on the cold.

the conversation turns to scaramouche, and you tune out capitano and dottore as they speak. you couldn't care less about the missing harbinger; sooner or later you would catch up to him and take back what the tsaritsa wanted. columbina's singing seems to get louder, almost taunting you as you do your best to avoid looking at the coffin. you're reminded of the day you were called into the tsaritsa's audience room, her hand colder than the snezhnayan snow as she rested it on your shoulder and told you that you would be taking the place of one of the two former harbingers.

"rosalyne would be proud," the tsaritsa had said. "you should feel honored."

your fingers trace the outline of your delusion, catching on the ridges of the gilded metal that keep the gem in place. you know it's almost identical to a vision, but the gifted delusion feels much, much heavier. you think you're going crazy.

childe nudges your knee with his, drawing you out of your thoughts. you look over at him, an amused smile on your face as you notice him snuggling into his scarf. he's closer than he was earlier, you realize, his outer thigh pressed up right against yours. you pretend not to notice, instead relaxing your posture and allowing your leg to fully rest against his. you blame it on the cold.

a soft gasp leaves your lips when childe grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours before pulling you off the bench you had been sitting on. you glance around, watching as all the harbingers approach rosalyne's coffin and take their respective places around it. you stare at your hand, still intertwined with childe's, before you glance up, being met with an infuriating smirk. you huff as he pulls you to his side, grip tightening slightly to make sure you stay in place beside him.

"let every worthy sacrifice be carved in ice, and with this nation endure for all time," pierro's words catch your attention, childe's hold momentarily forgotten as you stare at the first of the harbingers. "in the name of her majesty, the tsaritsa, we will seize authority form the gods. absolute peace; such is the gift from the tsaritsa, such is her majesty's benevolence. now you rest in this coffin, encased in layer upon layer of ice."

pierro pauses to stare down at the coffin, and you find yourself absentmindedly placing your free hand upon the cool metal. there's a slight shake to your hand that makes your brow furrow, unsure as to why. you're not scared, and the nervousness you feel is not nearly great enough for you to be shaking. your muddled reflection stares back at you as you keep trying to discern your emotions, and you're only brought out of your pensive state when you feel childe squeeze your hand. you glance up to meet pierro's icy gaze head-on.

"but rosalyne, i promise you, your final resting place will be the entirety of the 'old world'," pierro finishes, speaking his final words without looking away from you. there's a tense silence that follows, each of the harbingers waiting to hear your response. you glance down briefly, your previously shaky hand having gone still in the time it took pierro to speak. you feel childe fidget, your silence dragging on as a miniscule smile appears on your face. you drag your gaze up to give pierro a firm nod, receiving one in return before he turns and walks out of the room. pulcinella and pantalone are quick to follow, the latter shooting you a curious glance and letting out a low hum before disappearing.

"well, well," childe starts. "shall we go get some food and celebrate?"

at your confused glance, childe simply smiles. "you were so nervous you were shaking! but don't worry, you've proven yourself."

you pull your hand out of his grasp when he begins to walk, your face feeling warm as you realized you had been holding hands the entire time. "no thanks, i have things to do."

childe's eyes follow you as you stalk towards the door, an eyebrow raising when you pause at the exit and turn to face him once more. "and i wasn't nervous!"

"no?" childe immediately responds, a flirty lilt present in his voice as he crosses his arms. "then why were you shaking?"

"because," you start, a dangerous grin spreading across your face. you've finally figured out what you were feeling earlier. "i realized that being a harbinger doesn't make me nervous. it makes me excited."

childe huffs out a laugh as you finally leave, shaking his head in amusement before he runs a hand through his hair. he's left staring at the door until he hears arlecchino's muffled snort, and he turns to her with a warm face as he realizes that she'd heard your entire exchange.

"you don't stand a chance," she says, making her way to the exit as well. "but it'll be fun to see you try."

"fun indeed," childe mutters, glancing at rosalyne's coffin one last time. with a soft laugh, he places his hands into his coat pocket, trudging towards the door and already missing the warmth you had been providing not even ten minutes prior. "this'll be interesting."

rbs are appreciated <3

[thedivineart]

random pov of your future husband

‹𝟹 note ！

I know this is so funny and I just want to put smile on your face today:>

ꕀ ׅ࣪ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ links : navigation. send love.

pacs. paid services.

masterlist. @tarotwithart.

© thedivineart. do not plagiarize any of my work, translate or repost it on other social media platform.

꒰ one ꒱

• king of cups, temperance, 2 of cups

Dámn dude, she thought I don't love her but was opposite from what she thinks. Little did she know that I do love her with all of my heart, she fell deep but I fell way harder. I want to be with here always and do see my future with her, this may sounds so funny to you but I am head over the heals to her. Love can make you go crazy it is, YEAH I'm telling it to you right now so you are aware-_-. Know what? even thought she act weird or something do really weird, I tend to love it<3. She thinks she's not perfect but how can she be over the scale, people do mistakes at all and it is normal for us and understandable unless you are inconsiderate and idiot being. Her flaws she didn't like it but I do, I really do ( why your laughing?! ) I want to love herself as much how I love her, making her happy is the best thing that ever happened to my life. As of now, all I need to do is to wait and be patient for her love— I know someday she will realize that she loves me too. I will do anything just to enter and win her heart, I want her to experience the beauty of life, the love and having family— how happy it is ( someone: smiling like an idiot tskk ! ). I wonder what she feels about me?

꒰ two ꒱

• king of wands, 4 of swords, judgement

Tskk! I don't know why I keep being nice to her, never used to be like this before. Whenever she's coming I was excited for no reason which is pretty weird, I am weirdo now like her? ( someone: bro, this just my opinion but don't be mad about it ) huh? what it is, spill the thing ( someone: you... you are in love with her, just my opinion:) what?! do you see her? I'm in love with her? so funny of you , nice joke. *inner mind*did I fall for her? I fear that she will judge me for who am I- all of my relationship failed before ( sigh ). But I noticed ( what it is?! 2x ) dude! let me finish first !! ( ok, okay:> ) that everytime she passed by here, she looks tired or that's how she looks? ( someone: maybe she's depress but not impressed about your charms ) dámn! I'm out of here, you are no good and less serious. ps. this dude is too serious and have anger issues

꒰ three ꒱

• 4 of wands + king of pentacles + 7 of wands

- I wanted to marry her, man and she really do deserve it! I feel secure and love with her, she's my everything you know. She's is the reason why I'm feel complete now ( someone: you seems happy about it😅 ) cause I AM, creating a family with her will be my best choice in my entire life. A kind of person who is deserving of materialism and deep love, I want to give her everything even myself and I, it may sounds crazy but that's how it is, showering her some luxurious things will be great too but I think my time is the most important thing about her. I'm very protective about her but I'm not someone who is into words but I hope she appreciates all of my efforts even I don't speak about it. I'll be willing to take risk to this love of ours even thought I'm not sure if we're going up until the end of the line.

‹𝟹 leave like 🙵 re-blog when you love it !

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[jenniferjareauwife]

Hiiiii could you write a jj x reader where reader meets jj’s kids, doesn’t have to be daughter or son.

She's My Girlfriend

pairing: jennifer jareau x fem reader

category: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 630

summary: you meet jj's boys

I gnawed on my lip nervously while staring out the window of JJ's car. We were on our way back from the work and I was meeting Henry and Michael for the first time. Michael was just barely a toddler but Henry was 8 and I didn't want to make a bad first impression. "Baby don't be so nervous they're gonna love you, ok?"

"It's impossible not to be nervous." I chuckles awkwardly as I chewed on my thumbnail. She took my hand from my mouth and kissed it before holding it in her lap.

"We're here. You gonna be ok?"

"Only if your kids like me." I flashed her my best smile, making her laugh a bit before she turned off the car.

I held my breath as we stepped in the house. Henry ran up to JJ and jumped into her arms, making both of us smile. "Hey buddy. I want you to meet someone, ok?" She held up against her, holding him up with her arm under his body

"Who are you?" He asker with a goofy smile, his long hair covering his left eye.

"This is y/n. She's my girlfriend." JJ's eyes lit up when she looked at me. I held out my hand for him to shake but he just pulled on my pointer finger while laughing.

"Do you kiss?"

"Yes we do." JJ confirmed with a soft laugh.

"Pretty." Henry said.

"I think she's pretty too buddy." I blushed at his and JJ's compliment. "We're gonna order pizza tonight, how does that sound."

"Yay!" He lifted his arms up into the air triumphantly. As if it was his cue, her younger son Michael started crying from upstairs. JJ sighed and suddenly had a tired look on her face, making my smile fall.

"Everything ok?"

"That's the sound that wakes me up in the middle of the night. I don't enjoy it." I frowned as I followed her upstairs.

She held Michael in her arms and slowly rocked him back and forth, kissing his forehead while whispering comforting words even though he couldn't understand them. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Do you wanna try holding him?" I nodded, taking her offer and holding Michael in my arms. It wasn't immediately but he stopped crying after about a minute. "You are never leaving this house again." She whispered. "You're my savior babe." She kissed my cheek, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind, taking in the silence. "Do you want to stay over tonight?"

"I'll never turn down a sleepover." I smiled and turned my head a bit so she could kiss the corner of my mouth.

"Thank you so much."

"Of course." I leaned down to plant a kiss on Michael's forehead, smiling as his mouth slightly parted. "He's so cute, you know that? You make cute babies." She blushed, squeezed me a bit tighter.

"We should have a baby someday." I couldn't help but smile at her suggestion.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, we should." I could feel her eyes on me from behind as well as her huge smile. "I think we would have really cute babies. I just hope it's a girl. Boys are hard to take care of." She sighed, resting her chin on my shoulder while staring at Michael's cute face as he fell back asleep.

"Let's do it."

"What?"

"Let's do it. Let's try for a baby."

"Really? Now? You want to?"

"Of course baby. Unless you don't want to, I mean Michael is only two-"

"No no. I want to try for one." She brushed my hair back from my face. "I want a baby with you honey." She kissed my cheek again. "I want a family, with you."

"I love you so much."

"I love you more."

[mins-fins]

missa solemnis

&&. it's not everyday that you waltz with the prince that wants to rip out your tongue, but life is just full of surprises.

pairing: lee donghyuck x m!reader

genre: fairly random really, royalty au, enemies(?) to lovers

warnings: explicit language, reader and hyuck threaten each other the whole time, reader and hyuck both suck so bad but they both want each other so bad

word count: 1k

notes: this whole thing is just one scene from a bigger thing i wrote during the christmas break that i scrapped because i didn't think people would read it.. also because i'm not very good when it comes to writing people as enemies, also it was HORRIBLE i almost throw up every time i even glance at that mess 😞 anyway to celebrate nct dream reincarnation royal au i decided to just take this chunk and edit it so now at least it makes a little more sense 😭?? not my best writing truly but prince hyuck has not left my mind, i need to start writing more royal aus

"if i didn't know better, i'd think you wanted to kiss me right now".

there's a taunting tone in your voice that makes donghyuck glare, but he still doesn't get distracted, keeping up the same momentum he's had since you two began dancing no more than a few minutes ago.

there's a few good reasons you assumed he wanted to kiss you, mainly the direct contact he was making with your lips, he looked like he was about to move forward and connect his lips with yours with absolutely no shame, no regard for his reputation, his soon-to-be-wife, or his supposed "hatred" of you.

"you are an absolute moron".

"aren't i correct?"

donghyuck's poker face doesn't falter, no matter how much you tried to get a smile out of him with idiotic comments or jokes. "nope, wrong as always".

you hum at the princes response, somehow able to stay focused on waltzing as the two of you made your way around in a circle. donghyuck will never understand your way of easily multitasking, how you were somehow able to focus on annoying the absolute shit out of him as well as focus on not stepping on his foot at all.

he has to give it to you (begrudgingly though), it's impressive.

"so what is it then, your highness? you were just staring at my lips because you were bored? lost in your head?"

donghyuck's grip on your hand tightens at the sound of you using his title in such a mocking manner, oh he hates you, he hates you so much that if he had to choose, he'd rather kill you himself then have someone else do it.

you piss him off so much, your words piss him off so much, he wants to punch you, he wants to set you on fire and watch you burn, he wants to so badly stomp you into the ground and watch you suffer—

but holy shit you are absolutely gorgeous.

donghyuck can't even deny it, even with how much denial courses through his veins about topics such as this, anyone with two functioning eyes could see that you are just such a work of art. donghyuck can't even blame all the women that flock to the gates of your palace, hoping to score just one date with you.

"i was too busy thinking about the several torture methods that i could put you through".

"ah i am so hurt, you don't love me sweetheart?"

donghyuck has to use every single bit of patience remaining in his body to not step on your foot and leave you in pain on the dance floor.

the only reason he was dancing with you in the first place was because of a promise he made to his mother, his fiancée was off doing something else, gossiping with the servants, he assumes, she did always enjoy that, a favorite activity of hers that he's learned about from observing.

a dance like this should truly only be preserved for lovers, people who can stand each other, a pair who, with all things considered, won't bicker whilst they were supposed to be focusing on the music.

you two, with all things considered, are an example of everything opposite of that, you can't stand each other, you bicker all the time, and you are truly the furthest thing from lovers.

"call me that again and next time your head won't be attached to your body".

"i like to think you threaten me because you love me".

donghyuck snorts, finally, and you felt a surge of pride in your chest, you'd gotten a smile out of him. "your mind must be the messiest place ever.." he resorts to muttering, not knowing what other specific threats he could tell you. "an idiotic one too, do you ever think clearly? logically?"

you hum, displaying a lack of offense at the words. instead, you just lean closer, the distance between you two minimizing. "i only think about you, sweetheart".

a scoff leaves the prince's lips, he's absolutely done with you, but there's still a good minute left to the song, meaning there's still a good minute of you two waltzing in this ballroom left.

"i just cannot wait for this to be over.."

"you don't say!"

your enthusiasm pisses off donghyuck, but he doesn't step on your foot like he wanted, instead pulling you forward harshly, causing for a yelp of surprise to escape your lips. his arm remains around your waist, ensuring that you won't fall, but you two do bump foreheads.

"jesus! are you crazy!?"

there is absolutely no reason for you two to be pressed this close, your fingers still very much intertwined, just one trip up and your lips would touch.

you wonder in your head if donghyuck is slowly regretting his brash decision.

"what? you don't know how to waltz anymore?"

you always find a way to jab at him, comment on something he did, joke about a little things that you knew got under his skin.

oh lee donghyuck absolutely despises you.

that doesn't explain why he still clearly wants to kiss you, though.

"you're just—" he pauses in the middle of his sentence, suddenly very interested in your facial features, features that he could now clearly see up close. "a moron, an idiot".

"as you've said before".

donghyuck doesn't respond anymore after that, the song isn't even done, a good 25 seconds left before it's ending, but donghyuck was clearly done, as he pushed you away, taking in a breath.

"that's enough of you, have a good night your highness".

the words leave his tongue bitterly, his glare is less of a genuine one and more full of mixed emotions, but he doesn't give you any more time to stare at him, just turns around and walks in the direction of his fiancée.

you watch him walk away, and he doesn't make an effort to even save you one final glance.

the song isn't even over yet.

but he's done, very done.