#but I simply had to draw something for a matter of choice which is one of my very favourite fanfics

[bsd-elle]

Thoughts on Buddy Daddies Episode 9

I have so many thoughts about this episode and it all stems from P.A works' fantastic SUBTLE writing choices.

This episode, on paper, sounds like a pretty cliche sports day episode, but they somehow managed to show us the character progression and the relationship progression between the characters.

The biggest progress we can blatantly see is Rei taking an effort to help Kazuki more.

And we can see that Kazuki reacts accordingly.

Kazuki is surprised by this development, and voices his concern.

Rei was genuinely impacted by the events in episode 7, realizing that he was pretty 'useless' when it came to raising Miri, and has taken the initiative to give a helping hand.

And what I love about that is, we know that Rei had absolutely no clue how to work a microwave or any basic cooking, so for him to automatically suggest and start making onigiri shows that either he had previously asked Kazuki how to make simple items, or two, he was more observant when Kazuki was cooking, because he wanted to be able to do more, do anything to make his little girl smile.

And it's so wonderful to see them actually bring up this plot point and continue it, rather than letting it be a one-off plot point.

They pick up on his interest to be more involved and we see him actually trying.

Knowing the unfortunate circumstances of his childhood, it's not that Rei doesn't want to help out or get into Miri's activities, but rather that he simply doesn't KNOW what to do. Doesn't know what's right.

His hesitance throughout the Episode is evidence of that, his hesitance to give Miri his riceballs.

He genuinely looks so sad, feeling like he can't compete with Kazuki's sheer talent with cooking.

His hesitance to even cheer for Miri.

Growing up in a family full of espionage and assassination, quietness and taking up little to no space must've been embedded into his system, into his psyche, and the fact that he's actively trying to be loud, to draw attention to himself, just shows the effort he's putting into taking care and raising Miri, something his father never attempted to try.

And both Kazuki and Miri appreciate his efforts.

They understand that he's trying and are so enthusiastic and receptive to his attempts.

Which is why he takes it to heart that Miri fell down because he was 'loud'.

I think, in that moment, he thought that he failed, that failure is never acceptable.

But, that final reassurance from Miri (in the cutest way possible), that he didn't fail, he didn't do anything wrong, and Miri considers them all to be a family, something he never had, something he's never known, that's all he needed to realize that, yes, maybe he'll fail, but at the end of the day, Miri is happy, and there's nothing else that matters.

The other one I wanted to talk about, which is definitely more subtle, but the progression of Kazuki and Rei's relationship is truly so beautiful.

Kazuki treasures the help Rei attempts and supports him in every way possible.

When Rei said that he wanted to make riceballs and was worried if Miri would like it, Kazuki instantly reassures him that Miri would love it.

In fact, he proudly proclaims to Miri that Rei would be making onigiri. And I'm sure that if he hadn't, there might be a chance that Miri wouldn't have been able to eat it, while Rei was clouded by his doubt.

When Miri says that she likes the onigiri and she thanks Rei, Kazuki immediately tells him, "hey, you did good, look our daughter agrees too. You're doing good and trying, and we both see that".

When Rei is drowning in his self-loathing about potentially causing Miri to lose the gold medal, Kazuki tries to reassure him and tell him that he didn't do anything wrong.

Finally, when they're walking back, Kazuki tells him that he's proud of him, that he worked hard, and you can tell that Rei really appreciated that, to know that his efforts were being accepted.

And that's why their relationship grows in such an organic manner, Rei puts in the effort, tries his best to help out to the best of his abilities, and Kazuki reassures him, let's him know about things that he would have no idea about, and vocally supports him.

And Miri, my sweet angel, with her bright personality and even brighter smile, constantly comforts both Kazuki and Rei, that she's happy, that they ARE a family.

The reason they are a family is because each one of them helps each other, is an equal part in the group.

And at the end of the day, they're just all trying their best, taking one step at a time, while the others, cheer them on.

(And this picture is the perfect symbolism of that sentiment, Rei awkwardly trying his best to smile, and Kazuki physically trying to bring him closer into the picture).

#buddy daddy spoilers #miri buddy daddies #rei buddy daddies #kazuki buddy daddies #buddy daddies #anime #manga #bd #kazuki kurusu #rei suwa #i had so much to talk about but I tried to concisely explain it even though I'm losing my mind #kazurei

[bearhugsandshrugs]

Would you mind doing the ask with Tav using edging and/or orgasm denial on Raphael to get him to give her the hammer without giving him the crown?

Please?

(i feel so awkward 🫣 i'm so sorry if i'm doing this wrong and annoying you)

thank youuu for sending this again I appreciate you!!! 🥰🥰🥰 here, have nearly 1k words for this

Raphael x F!Tav, Edging

“That deal doesn’t particularly strike me as fair”, Tav protested after reading through the contract. Raphael stared expectantly at her from his couch, lounging next to her as she reviewed the legalese.

“I think it is more than fair. Generous, even”, he smiled, but his insistence was met with grimacing from Tav. Setting down the contract, she looked at the man next to her: He seemed more at ease here in the House of Hope, less stressed, and the way his eyes met hers tugged briefly at her heart, melting her resistance.

No. Focus, Tav.

“Trading a one-time-use hammer for a crown that elevates you into godhood-levels of might is hardly a fair deal”, she began again, “not to mention that you could simply free Orpheus yourself, but you’d rather have me do that work as well.”

"I do so very much enjoy watching you work", he retorted, voice sultry as always.

"Really? Is that why you let me sleep with Haarlep instead of you?" Tav's voice was sweet and innocent, carefully laying out the trap she hoped he'd walk into.

"No, pet. I did not 'let' Haarlep do anything. Or you." He looked sour, jealous even. “That was entirely your doing.”

"To be fair: Haarlep wasn't my first choice", she admitted. While enjoyable, she'd much rather slept with the devil himself.

He sized her up as if he was considering something, then replied: "I could provide some... encouragement."

Tav bit her lip, pretending to consider his offer. “I’m not sure that is a good idea.”

He was into it now, his prey drive luring him to a false sense of power. “Why not? Two consenting adults… potentially to be repeated, should this be to your – our – liking…”

Raphael’s mouth twitched into a smirk, a sparkle in his eyes revealing he’d do almost anything to get her to sign. Tav stifled a sigh, then nodded. “Okay.”

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊

Raphael was breathing heavily, eyelids fluttering as he fought himself. He’d already clawed at her thighs, marking her with deep scratches while she was on top of him, grinding her hips ever so slowly.

Tav had let herself sink down on him with languid movements, running her hands over his chest up his throat, squeezing again and again each time the devil tried to speed up their pace. He was greedy and impatient, but oh so easy to manipulate.

Where Haarlep would serve him in the worst ways possible, Tav did anything but: Drawing out his climax until he cursed, then whined, then clawed; the latter followed by her pulling herself off of him to his desperate protests. When she’d sat down on him again, watching his mouth part as his cock bottomed out inside of her, she had scolded him for being so needy.

Not that he cared.

“Keep going”, he whimpered, eyes glassy from lust, after she’d interrupted yet another release.

“Hmm”, she sighed sweetly as she clenched around him teasingly, “I think I need a little more encouragement.”

Raphael opened his eyes in disbelief, a growl coming out of his throat that warned her as much as it aroused her. “And what is it that you want?” His voice was barely contained, no matter how detached he tried to make it sound.

Tav leaned down to suck at his throat, and his hands immediately grabbed her, held her, melting her body into his. “I don’t think you’re ready to give me that yet”, she whispered into his ear as she started to move again, the wet sounds between them giving away both of their pleasures.

“I am”, he groaned, running his fingers through her hair, “Please, I am.”

Tav knew she had to be careful now. She had to push him into exactly the right kind of ecstasy in which his guard would he lowered enough for her to get away with this. It’s what she’d been building up to. It’s what she’d planned and schemed before.

Rolling into him again, she watched as the devil’s pants mixed with small sobs, high-pitched and so very unlike his staged persona. He was hot, so hot, and she constantly had to force herself not to let go. In truth, she was edging them both.

He was about to spill over the edge, so she paused, stilling her entire body and holding down his hips with the last bit of strength that she had, denying his involuntary attempts to push into her. Nearly there. He was nearly there.

“Tell me”, she moaned, not even intentionally, but this was wearing her down as well. “Tell me that you give me anything I want and I’ll let you find release.”

He swallowed, the adam’s apple in his throat moving underneath her palm. “What exactly do you want?”

She started moving again, slowly, so he wouldn’t calm down. “You know what I want, Rapahel.”

“Fuck”, he cursed out, hands moving down to her waist, trying to steer her. “You fucking bitch–“

Pausing again she chuckled as he let out a whine. It was now or never. “Yes or no? Say it.”

She clenched her walls around him, adding more tease, then started riding him as if he had already agreed. Tav knew she was nearly done for as well.

He fought with himself. Sweat was gleaming on his chest, his temples, and between his thighs. “I’ll give you the hammer”, he groaned, “if we’ll do this again.”

Sighing with relief as much as lust, Tav leaned down to plant a kiss on his lips. “Good devil”, she praised him. “Now come for me.”

#anon asks #raphael asks #bg3 raphael #bg3 raphael x tav #bg3 smut #if you enjoyed that please share :)

[hyperfixat]

~725 word interlude for the yandere lucifer thing i posted a bit ago!!

pt one

Why is he always last to the punch? All sound and sight blurs as his sight zeros in on the red, scabbing mark on the juncture where your shoulder meets your neck. He can’t tell what his brothers are saying, what you are saying it’s static.

Someone’s laid claim on you. Lucifer doesn’t know who, doesn’t care who, because he knows it was one of his brothers’ vile fangs staking you. It should be him, his mark, his teeth tasting you, not them.

Shouldn’t they have at least asked before marking you up. He’s the reason you can stay, he keeps you here, and they ignore his authority.

Breakfast tastes like soot, all he can see is your neck with bite marks that aren’t his. A feral desire stirs inside Lucifer, to claim you as his, to hold you above his siblings. He can share, he can, it’s just that he should be the first in line, your choice, if you had to choose.

Lucifer abruptly dismisses himself, leaving a half eaten plate in his seat, which will be snatched away the second his footsteps are out of earshot of Beelzebub. He mutters some excuse about Lord Diavolo, desperate to keep his cool in front of you. No, you can’t see this vile envy burning through his heart.

Paperwork serves as a lousy distraction. It is bland and repetitive and there is nothing to stop his mind from wandering.

He wonders if you’d let him stake a claim as bold as a bite on you? Would you allow him to draw blood? The thought alone makes his head spin. He can almost taste you already and then quill in his hand snaps.

MC <3

Lucifer: If you would come to my office after class, I have something to discuss with you.

MC: Sure!

MC: i’m not in trouble am i?

Lucifer: No. I simply wish to talk.

MC: (posing demoji, smiling with stars, cheekily posed.)

Good. Satisfaction swirls in Lucifer’s chest and he grabs a new pen and resumes his work.

Time cannot melt away fast enough, and no matter how hard he throws himself into the papers, you possess his mind. He’s nearly insane by the time you gently crack his door open, peeking a single eye into the room to spot him before coming in.

Your uniform is ruffled from a long day at school, and his hands itch to fix it for you, but more importantly. “Which one of my brothers bit you?”

You flush a beautiful pink and suddenly Lucifer finds himself a tiny bit less upset at the situation.

“Mammon.” You shift under his heavy gaze.

“Why did you let him?”

“He asked nicely.”

“I find myself wondering, if I asked nicely, would you let me take a claim on you?”

“Oh,” your heart thumps wonderfully beneath the skin of your neck, his fingers trace up to your face, your jaw. You’re so beautiful when he has you like this.

“Hmm? Will you indulge me, little one? Let me taste you, and mark up your pretty neck?”

Lucifer pecks little kisses along the column of your throat, basking in the stutter of your breath.

“Yes,” you manage.

Lucifer smiles and gives a small love bite to a vein in your neck.

“Thank you, little star.” He practically purrs the words.

“But!” You regain a bit of yourself, less lost to his charm. “You have to ask nicely.”

“Oh?” Lucifer laughs. The laugh when he knows he’s about to do something really cool and sexy. With that he kneels on the floor in front of you, unleashing his wings, horns, and other various demonic changes.

He reached for your hand and places a kiss on your wrist.

“Won’t you allow me the greatest pleasure of claiming you as my own? It would be my deepest honor, little one.” And if he doesn’t absolutely live for the blush that coats your cheeks at that. His long eyelashes shadow his undereye gorgeously.

“Yes,” you stare at him as he pulls himself to his feet. Lucifer makes a show of grinning with his fangs on display, giving you a preview of what he’s about to bite you with. It makes your knees weak. Such a powerful demon using one of his sharpest assets on you in a way you trust him to not bring you lasting harm.

#verified hyperfixat post #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x you #lucifer obey me #lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #yandere obey me #yandere obey me x reader

[iveseenstrangerthings]

parked car confessions - a Steve Harrington imagine

summary: another friends to lover imagine, this is similar to my mixed signals imagine that i wrote, and you can read that here! This is a steve x fem!reader using she/her pronouns. Steve misses the usual Friday night movie to go on a date, much to your despair... it’s a bit angsty and fluffy! 

warnings: sweating and mentions of food

word count: exactly 4k 

note: i posted this yesterday but it didn’t show up anywhere??? so i’m trying again, hopefully it works

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A snaffle at the popcorn box brings your attention away from the film and you turn towards Dustin who’s grabbing a huge handful of the popcorn out of the bag in your hands. “Woah, easy there.” You whisper, trying not to distract the others from the movie. He just twists his face up in retaliation and sticks a finger to his lips, shoving the entire handful of popcorn into his mouth and over-exaggerating his chews. Painstakingly, you hold in a laugh at his expressions and mannerisms, no matter how crappy you feel you rely on Dustin to make you laugh. It’s Friday night and as usual, you’re all huddled together watching a movie of Mike’s choice tonight as you’re all at the Wheeler’s. Honestly, you haven’t been paying attention as tonight Steve bailed, at the last minute, and you’ve felt uneasy ever since. When the others asked why, he wouldn’t divulge and that’s when you started to suspect he was meeting someone, maybe going on a date.

Simply put, you like him. You know the others know after you accidentally confessed to Robin after you’d had a few drinks, and you know she wouldn’t be able to hold off telling the others. In a way though, you don’t mind. Yours and Steve’s relationship was an odd one that everyone just couldn’t understand. There are obvious feelings, on your part, and sometimes on Steve’s, but then he would adamantly deny there was anything there. There have been nights you’ve cried out of sheer frustration at the fact that you feel you’re getting nowhere with him, and all you want to do is be with him.

So, here you’re sat, half watching the film, half worrying about where he is and what he’s getting up to. The inside of your cheek is toying in between your back teeth as you play over different scenarios in your mind. Annoyance rises within you, suddenly starting to feel slightly enraged that you’ve gone for so long being toyed about. Something deep within you makes you want to confront him and tell him how much he’s hurt you.  

Later, as the film seems to be drawing to a close, there’s a quick two knocks on the front door and then it swooshes open, a sudden draft entering the room. You whip your head around and see Steve turning to close the door, starting to kick his shoes off. Unimpressed, you turn back around and pretend like nothing’s happened.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late.” He says.

Max’s face screws up, “Late? You’ve missed the whole movie.”

Steve places himself down on the floor, just next to where you’re sat on the couch and Dustin gives him a pat on the shoulder, to which Steve turns around and they do some sort of quick hand gesture with each other. The rest of the guys mumble a quick hello, but their attention is mainly on the film. Your eyes shift back to the screen, and you can feel Steve’s gaze on you, only for a second. He finds it odd how you haven’t really acknowledged him, or even said hi. Everyone settles back down to finish the film and when the film finally finishes, the black background casts the room into a sudden darkness, only illuminated by the white credits rolling on. It doesn’t take two minutes before Robin is questioning Steve on his absence.

“So, you gonna share with us what better things you had to do than be here?” She turns in the armchair to face him, her legs lazily draped over the side. “And don’t say work.” Her eyebrow goes up as she looks at him, “Because I’ll know you’re lying.”

Steve shakes his head and looks back at Robin, smirking slightly, “I’ve just been busy, guys.”

Dustin is quick to retort, “Wearing a pretty snazzy jacket there though Steve… what could require such a fashionable, and impressive, outfit choice?”

Your eyes bore into the television, everyone knows fine well he’s been on a date. Steve lets out a long sigh, puffs his cheeks and shrugs, trying not to laugh at the questions being thrown his way. You glance over at Robin who’s looking back at you with a kind-hearted expression, and you just roll your eyes ever so slightly.

“Come on man, who’s been the lucky person to spend tonight in your presence?” Dustin places his hands on the back of his shoulders and slightly shakes him from side to side.

Steve brushes his hands off and holds his palms up, “Alright, alright.” Your stomach drops, even though you knew, it’s going to be different hearing him say it. “It was Katie, we used to have Math together. She came into the store the other day to rent a movie and we got talking and… figured I’d ask her out.” Wow. Your cheeks flush with warmth and if you were alone now, you’d probably shed a little tear and start to feel sorry for yourself. But tears don’t threaten you right now, sheer anger does. Part of you feels that Steve knows your feelings towards him and just doesn’t mention them, but maybe he is just oblivious. “You okay, (y/n)? You’re pretty quiet.”

You lower your gaze to where he’s sat in front of you and feel yourself softening towards him, his eyes are so kind and he really hasn’t got a bad bone in his body, so you feel guilty almost for feeling so angry with him. “Totally.” You reply, “Glad you had a good time.” You offer a smile to him, however you felt you did not want everyone suspecting you were pissed off. That wasn’t the reply Steve was expecting, however. Like a thick blanket, an awkward silence sits atop of everyone, almost feeling like it’s smothering. It becomes uncomfortable and Max soon realises, “I think we should probably get going…” she looks around at everyone else, urging with wide eyes for someone to agree.

You take the hint, “Yeah, it’s getting pretty late.” Pushing the thin blanket from your legs, you stand up and stretch slightly, heading for the door with the others to put your shoes on.

“Thanks for having us!” Lucas calls back to Mike and Nancy who are still sat around the sofas with Robin, El and Steve. The group call out goodbyes and you all head out the door. The kids have their bikes, but you chose to walk tonight, you enjoy the walk as it’s a nice, scenic part of town. The others will find it odd that you didn’t stay, as you usually stay up late into the night with them once the kids have gone, but tonight you couldn’t find it in you to want to make pleasantries with Steve.

Steve sits with a bewildered look on his face after you leave, and he looks around at the others. “Am I missing something? What the hell was up with (y/n)?” Nancy and Robin share a glance and Steve catches onto it, sighing heavily. “Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be? Are you sworn to secrecy or some shit? You guys stuck in the sixth grade?”

“Hey, woah.” Robin starts, “Don’t be like that with us, Harrington.” The pair stare at each other a minute. Albeit they work together nearly all the time and spend time outside of work together, the pair very rarely have an argument. The tone in their voices has an edge to it which is very rare to appear in conversations. “Don’t you ever think for a second how you’re making her feel?”

“Making who feel?!”

“Don’t give us that shit, Steve.” Nancy quickly snaps back at him, getting up to start to tidy away the living room. Mike silently slipped away when he realised the conversation was starting to turn sour. Steve places his forehead in his palm and rubs back and forth, as if he’s getting a headache. “Did not expect my night to end like this.” He sighs.

Robin tuts “Oh boohoo.” She stands up, giving Nancy a hand collecting in random bits of popcorn from the carpet. She looks up at him, enjoying the fact her and Nancy are ripping into him a little. “Did you even have a good time with Katie?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

Steve plays the night over in his head. It had been a pleasant time, they’d gone to the movies, he drove her home, nothing significant happened but he just didn’t feel anything for her. He does, however, feel something for you, which he’s been repressing for so long. He just never knew how to approach the situation. “Not particularly.” He shakes his head, starting to feel annoyed at the situation.

Robin sits back down on the sofa, finishing off some rogue bits of popcorn left in the boxes, and she shakes them to release the hardened corn from the sides. “Think you should just go talk to her, to be honest.”

“She’s gone home! It’s too late now.”

Robin shakes her head and tosses a piece of popcorn up and into her mouth, “No, she’s walking dumbass. Go find her, be the Knight in shining armour you so desire to be.”

Something stirs in Steve, a protective urge flares within him, the thought of you walking alone doesn’t sit well with him. He stands and makes his way towards the door, quickly slipping into his trainers. He looks back at Nancy and Robin, both staring back at him with a slightly smug look on their faces.  

The night is a lot colder than you anticipated and your jumper isn’t doing a particularly good job of keeping the cold from seeping in and settling a chill in your bones. You cross your arms across your chest as you become aware of your teeth starting to chatter, you just want to be home. You quicken your pace slightly to try and get home quicker, attempting to put tonight to the back of your mind, but you know that won’t happen. As you turn the corner, headlights illuminate the road in front of you and you can hear the sound of an engine rolling towards you, going too slow to pass you. Your eyes widen and you quicken your pace again, unaware of whose car it is and why they would be travelling so slowly behind you. Different thoughts start racing around your mind before you hear a quick acceleration and before you know it the car is beside you, but you keep your eyes fixed forward. “Hey, do you want a ride home?” Steve. Your pace relaxes now that you know it’s him, but you continue to walk, so he continues to roll steadily alongside you, his eyes darting from you to the road. “Come on, please don’t ignore me.”

“No, I don’t want a ride home.” You reply, an edge to your voice he hasn’t heard before.

The car continues beside you, and you look over to him leaning across so he can shout out the open passenger window to you. “(y/n), please get in so we can talk.”

Your brows furrow, oh so now he wants to talk. “I live around the corner; we won’t have much of a talk by the time you drop me home.”

“Then we can just sit on your drive for a bit.” You shake your head, steadily continuing with your walk. You hear an exasperated sigh float from the car, “I don’t wanna go home knowing we’re not on good terms. Please, come talk to me.” Finally, you stop. Steve silently thanks you and now just hopes you’re going to get in the car. You toy with the idea in your mind, he doesn’t want to go home knowing we’re not on good terms… oh fuck it. You reach over and open the passenger door, closing it with a bit more force than anticipated it makes Steve jump slightly.

“Sorry.” You mumble, knowing he’s precious about his car. “Let’s go then.” You gesture with your hand for him to start driving and he does, the car smoothly starting to roll away.

You ride in silence to your house, which only has the porch house illumined and the rest of your house sits in darkness. He knocks the engine off then turns to face you; your eyes had not moved from the road in front since you got in the car.

He clears his throat, trying to also clear the awkward tension in the car. “Please tell me what’s bothering you.”

Ask and you shall receive. “Why didn’t you just come straight out tonight and say that you’d been on a date?” Your heart starts hammering against your ribcage, “People had to coax it out of you, and you went along with it. You just didn’t need to beat around the bush with saying where you’d been, it was weird.”

“Weird?”

“Yes! Weird. What was the reason you didn’t wanna admit to being on a date? Even though, it was pretty fucking obvious.”

He pauses for a few seconds, “I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

You scoff, “Oh, how considerate. Thank you.” Your hands are becoming more expressive with the more annoyed you get.

He places a hand on the steering wheel and furrows his brows, “Well, yeah, I was trying to be considerate. I didn’t want you to get upset.” You shake your head and twist your face, but then your stomach drops, the only reason he wouldn’t want you to get upset is that he knows how you feel. You soften into the seat a little and let out a big breath, your teeth find the soft flesh of the inside of your cheek again and you begin to chew on it, ever so slightly. “I don’t know why, I guess I was bored and-”

“Please don’t just make up excuses, Steve.” You turn to face him as you cut him off, his face looks tired and stressed, “This is not how I pictured this, at all, but I really like you.” Your voice sounds tired and you pause a second to take in his facial expression which has softened. “I have for such a long time and I’m pretty sure the guys all know, Robin definitely does, but that’s beside the point. We’ve been friends for so long and if that’s all you see us as then that’s fine but, I just get frustrated sometimes.” You pause for a second, letting it sit between the two of you, but Steve says nothing, almost just wanting you to continue talking. He's given you his full attention the whole time, holding onto every word you’ve said. “It seems to me sometimes; you feel the same. But then, you deny it and go on dates with other people. There’s a part of me that always holds a little hope that maybe, for some reason, you’re just holding out at accepting how you really feel.”

Bingo. How are you so good at this?

“Am I wrong, Steve?” You look back at him now, almost in anticipation. He can’t seem to muster up the right thing to say, so just slowly shakes his head. A silence falls over the pair of you and he just lets it stay for a few minutes before speaking again.

“How come you’ve waited all this time to say something?” He asks.

Your eyes search his, “Well, when you deny liking me and then date other people it doesn’t exactly encourage me to share my feelings. I’m just sick of feeling like one day you like me and the next you’re uninterested. I wish you’d just be honest with me.” You pause a second, a thought suddenly making its way into your consciousness. “Wait, how long have you known?”

He thinks for a second, giving it some real consideration. “Um, like three weeks maybe. Robin slipped it into conversation at work.”

“Oh.”

“And I’ve wanted to talk to you about it but then I guess I got a bit annoyed; I don’t know. I asked Katie out to sort of test it and see if how I felt was real. And it was.”

“Hold on, you needed to date someone else, to test yourself?” You sit back against the door holding your hands closed in your lap.

“You’re missing my point! I went on the date, and I didn’t like it, I didn’t enjoy myself. I was thinking of you the whole time, God dammit (y/n). How do you just expect me to know how you feel if you don’t even communicate with me?! I can’t read your mind. I hate that Robin had to tell me how you felt. I wanted to hear it from you.” His hands point in your direction, to accentuate his argument. He has a point, you’d never spoken about it with Steve, you’ve been close to, but then froze and decided against it. The air in the car suddenly feels uncomfortably warm and you crack the door open a little, Steve’s face turning alarmed when he thinks you’re opening it to leave. When he sees you’re staying, he settles. Awkwardly, you look down at your fingers and tug at a tiny piece of hangnail. You’d never really considered how Steve might have felt, and you felt awful for it. Steve’s hand reaches over and gently takes your fingers away from pulling at your skin, he holds your hand there for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry I never spoke to you about how I felt or anything, I just really didn’t know how to put it or whether I’d just get rejected then it would make everything awkward.” You shrug nonchalantly. It feels nice having his hand in yours and you give it a small squeeze.

“I felt like such a dick, coming in late to Mike’s then seeing you sitting there alone.” He shakes his head slightly, almost as if he’s in an argument with himself. “Well, you weren’t ‘alone’, but you know what I mean.” You scrunch your lips up and nod, letting him continue. “I don’t know why the hell I ever asked her.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it Steve, it’s done now it’s happened. I’m just sorry for not talking to you about it.” Your thumbs are gliding over each other, it seems cliché, but you almost can’t believe you finally have his hand in yours.

“Well, now that it’s all out there and we’ve established that… how about we go to that little place you like? The one with the tables outside and the good pizza. Tomorrow?”

Your face screws up and you place the palm of your hand on your forehead, “Shit… I have a date tomorrow. I can’t.” He can tell by your face you’re obviously joking, he raises his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes playfully.

“Oh really? Who’s the lucky guy?” His tongue pokes out slightly as it curls up into his upper lip, eyebrows still raised.

You brush him off with a swish of your hand, “You won’t know him.”

“I bet he’s awfully handsome.” He says, in his best attempt at a posh accent which makes you laugh with him.

You still have his hand in yours and you slowly peel your hand away from his, “It’s getting late I should head in.” You state.

He nods understandingly and rubs his hands over his jeans, “Sure.” He looks towards the porch where the light is still on, wondering if your mom has been watching this whole time, she tended to be nosy.

You follow his gaze and are quick to pick up on what he’s thinking, “They’re out.” You simply state.

He doesn’t really acknowledge this but instead poses a follow up to his previous question, “So, I’ll pick you up tomorrow? Around 6?”

Your head bounces in a wave of nods enthusiastically, a smile painting your face. “Absolutely, that’d be great.” For months now, you’d found yourself daydreaming of him, of this. If your mind was unoccupied for a few moments, you found it automatically filling with ideas of you and him, doing the most mundane of things but somehow the thought brought you such warmth and comfort. Often, you pictured the two of you sharing a kiss. The thoughts bounce around in your mind as you sit across from him now, trailing your eyes from his, down to his lips, then back to his eyes. Your heart accelerates at a steady pace, but enough so that you can feel it quickening. Your throat seems to tighten, and your mouth goes dry with anticipation. Steve looks back at you, he enjoys looking at you and taking in your features. He appreciates your beauty and finds you utterly charming, even when you’re going off on him. He notices your eyes move down to his lips, where he carefully takes his bottom one in between his teeth for a fraction of a second, but enough so that you noticed it.

As soon as Steve did this, it’s as if someone lets a cage of butterflies in your stomach free and they erupt into a turmoil of busy wings and flutters. Your heart continues to pound in your chest at the realisation of what’s building.

“C’mere.” He whispers the word and cups the side of your neck with his hand, resting his thumb gently on your cheek as he pulls you in towards him. The car feels so silent as you allow yourself to gravitate towards him, both closing your eyes as your lips finally meet. You’re pleasantly surprised at how well your lips move at ease with his. He kisses you slowly, drawing them out before kissing you again, tenderly parting your lips by placing his thumb just below your bottom lip, firming his hold on you. Heat rises within you and your hand lays gingerly on his leg, your other hand holding his arm. You really don’t want to, but you pull away to catch your breath. His hand remains on your cheek as you slow your breathing down, not wanting him to see you got overly excited. He pulls you close again to give you a small peck on the lips before removing his hand and sitting back in his seat. Your cheeks feel incredibly flushed, and you know they’re a deep crimson, letting Steve see exactly how you felt about your kiss.

“Was that…” he starts, starting to put his keys back in the ignition, “was that your first kiss?” he asks with interest, he’s hoping it was, that way to him it’s more special.

Just as the crimson was starting to dissipate, it reappears. You know Steve has had multiple kisses, so you feel silly that you have only ever had one, that has only just occurred now. Or maybe he asked because the kiss was so bad, and he could tell you’re a rookie? Oh god…

“Oh, shit was it that bad!?” You ask, covering your mouth with your fingers suddenly feeling awkward.

His eyes widen and he shakes his hands, “No no no, no definitely not. Are you kidding me (y/n), talk about a tease.” His voice lowers, with a subtle tone of seduction, “Best kiss I’ve ever had.”

You roll your eyes and push his leg with your hand, “Shut up, Harrington.” You turn and open the door fully now and step out into the darkness of the evening, thankful that he probably won’t be able to see your flushing cheeks. “Tomorrow at 6, don’t be late.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He turns the engine on now as you close his door, softly this time, and make your way down to your front door where you fish your keys from your bag. Quickly, you unlock your door and turn around to wave Steve off. Once he sees you in safely, he reverses off your drive and you close your door as you see his taillights trail off in the distance.

#masterlist #stranger things imagine #stranger things preferences #stranger things blurbs #stranger things imagines #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington comfort

[nanomooselet]

Little but Fierce V

Now, say what you want about Meryl (and I am. And have. And will. At terrifying length) but she doesn't lack for conviction. She may be lacking survival instinct, and sometimes the common sense God gave an eggplant. But never conviction.

She's a scold. But I'll say this about her lectures: there's truth to them, and people feel compelled to justify themselves hearing it.

How can you be so heartless?! Who does this to someone who saved their town twice? It's unthinkable!/How can you be so cruel? You would sacrifice the man who saved your town twice? It's heartless!

How totally lame. It's not an act of kindness. You're just running away from pain./It's lame, not an act of kindness. You just don't want to get hurt. Running away isn't some brave thing to do.

Meryl's got a knack for putting her finger right on the conclusion that others are reluctant to come to about what they're doing - what she's not good at is understanding why they're doing it anyway. Meryl's never had to surrender anything in order to survive. She doesn't know anything about compromise, nor about bending the rules, nor is she aware that one obvious motive can conceal another hidden one. She simply sees a fault and she wants it corrected on demand. And no, crying won't help.

Rosa doesn't want to hand Vash over - she does care about him. But in her mind, a choice between him and her child is no choice at all, and they hang on such a slender thread of resources as it is that they're forced to maximise what they've got however they can. I imagine something similar was what separated Rosa from her husband. Vash completely understands it himself, because it's what Rem believed: her own life or those aboard the fleet? No choice at all.

Similar Vash fleeing the Nebraskas, which both Meryl and the father conclude is cowardice - he's a cream puff, a loser, a weakling who can't fight. Vash is none of those things. He's drawing them away from the town, ensuring there won't be unnecessary casualties and distracting them from, say, stealing the Plant. It doesn't quite work, but it does give them time to reconsider what they're doing and ultimately they change their course. Which, to her credit, Meryl comes to be impressed by, in a... Meryl sort of way.

What a weirdo...

But both Rosa and Vash are fundamentally pragmatists. They understand doing what you have to in order to survive, whatever it takes, because they've both been in circumstances that make those demands a matter of life and death.

Sheltered Meryl, without knowing it, sees a logic that neither one would naturally consider: one that is uncompromising.

It doesn't matter that Rosa is only betraying Vash for the sake of her people - she's still betraying Vash, who has only ever helped her out, and that will demand a reckoning. Similarly Vash trying to misdirect the Nebraskas. They hurt plenty of people and cause a huge mess (and eat up time, which Vash could use to escape what he's really running from…) while he tries to convince them to stand down. If he'd faced them then and there, the town might have been better off.

Because that's the kind of world No Man's Land is. It's one great big double-bind. Either be judged as you dirty your hands and break your principles, or face the judgement of the elements, which do not forgive.

Meryl's perspective is strict, but it's uncomfortably hard to argue against the conclusions she comes to. And both Rosa and Vash know it.

It's interesting that Roberto actually speaks up the second time, though, telling her to cut it out. At the end of ep 2 he's the one who grows annoyed enough with Vash to be the first to ask him "Whose side are you on?" I wonder what made him change his mind?

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

#tristampparty #trigun stampede #trigun meta #“what a weirdo” has the same connotation as “i'll take that as a compliment” #i.e. whoops i have admiration for this blond lunatic #meryl stryfe #meta: little but fierce #roberto's thoughts can be hard to decipher but i think he's seeing through vash's hapless façade here #to the genuine helplessness

[the-apology-dance]

No Nightingales: Chapter One

(This was a little fic I wrote, and I figured I would post it on here as well for anybody who felt like reading it, so ✨Enjoy✨ If enough people like this, I may post the other chapters. Let me know if that is something you’d want✨)

Aziraphale had been making excuses to come down to Earth, each time longer than the last. He felt like he couldn't escape the demon. Everywhere he looked, he seemed to be there. It was odd. His memories projected onto his surroundings, not only of Crowley, but of himself as well. He had made a life down here and to simply be torn away from it all? Book Of Life be damned.

Aziraphale walked about in his bookshop, letting his finger draw a line in the dust on one of the many shelves of books he had acquired over the years. No matter how many times he dusted these shelves, the layer of dust always did seem to regenerate. He was the owner of this bookshop, a word which he used very loosely, but despite that, it was more a place to store his book collection than anything, really.

Much to the confusion of Maggie, Nina, Muriel, and even Crowley in the beginning as he never seemed to sell a single copy of a book, unless he was faced with no other choice. He was truly the definition of a bookworm. Seeming to have first editions of almost every book that he adored. He looked after the bookshop like one would look after their only child.

It was rare Aziraphale found himself in a problem that he wasn’t able to talk himself out of. Well, at least Aziraphale found that to be true, until as of late. The whole cosmic misunderstanding with Crowley seemed to rattle the duo. A massive understatement, and practically one of the biggest lies that Aziraphale had ever said to the demon in the time that they knew each other.

Which was indeed a LONG TIME. More than 6000 years to be precise.

Muriel wore a frown as they saw Aziraphale closely examining the dust, like he would find an answer hidden somewhere in it. He turned in confusion as he heard Muriel chirping in a slightly flustered manner, rocking back and forth on their black buckled flats. The lower-ranking angel had started to profusely apologize to the now Archangel for the state of things.

“That is all my fault, Mr. Fell! I should be taking better care of your bookshop! Especially since I was given specific rules on how to take care of it!” It was now Aziraphale’s turn to be flustered as he turned to Muriel, with an expression not of anger or disdain, but simply hesitation.

‘What did heaven do to this poor angel?’

“No, no! Muriel, excuse me if I misheard, but would you show me these rules?” Muriel gave a quick nod before running off to fetch the “rules” they spoke of. In the meantime, Aziraphale let himself steal a quick glance over at the couch in the back of the bookshop, half-heartedly hoping Crowley would be there, draped over the couch or the armchair in an odd position that would be uncomfortable for anyone but him. There had been a mutual agreement that the armchair was Crowley's. He normally sat there while Aziraphale was working, either in his snake form or his human form, gangly limbs sprawled out on the chair.

He wasn’t surprised when Crowley was nowhere to be seen, yet he couldn’t help the feeling of his heart dropping at the sight. He promised himself that he wouldn’t go chasing after Crowley when he came down from Heaven, yet as time passed the more his mind started to like the idea of breaking that promise. Just a little. On his end, he could feel the love radiating not only radiating from his chest, but his entire being towards the demon.

Muriel appeared once again holding a piece of paper out to him, which he eagerly took. His eyes scanned the page and his shoulders dropped. He would know that scrawly handwriting anywhere. It belonged to Crowley.

HOW TO RUN THE BOOKSHOP 101

-DO NOT SELL THE BOOKS TO ANYONE. (you can tell anyone who comes in looking for one to sod off as quickly and politely as possible)

-Close the shop at 6 PM. Open it whenever you feel like, he never really had an issue with that.

-Nothing FLAMMABLE should be INSIDE the bookshop. (If candles ARE NEEDED, use the electric ones in the drawer with his fountain pens)

-The further back the books are in the shop, the older they are. (Do not touch the ones near the staircase in the back of the shop, they will fall apart)

-This bookshop was created sometime in the 1700s, so everything is pretty old and also very delicate (he never told me exactly when it opened, it was somewhere around there)

-Please dust the bookshelves off at least once every day (or as many times as you’d like)

-Don’t bother moving the books around he has his own odd system that he uses to sort them

Not even at gunpoint. Did he really watch him that intently? Apparently, he was right that you never could tell exactly what he was looking at with his sunglasses on. Aziraphale moved to the back of his couch, sitting down gently on the cushions. He felt his eyes well up with tears, his vision blurring as Crowley’s smell was also embedded in the fabric of the couch.

Just as Crowley seemingly knew what Aziraphale smelt like, he knew what Crowley smelt like. It was unmistakable. Red patchouli, lilac, mahogany, lemon rind, oakmoss, leather, and vanilla husk. The leather could possibly be because of The Bentley he drove most of the time. The sheer scent alone was enough to make Aziraphale feel a tightness in his chest that convinced him that he was going mad. It was like when his wings had been cramped in the ethereal plane for too long.

Speaking of discomfort, his wings sprung free from their confinement from the sheer emotion that was washing over the angel. White feathers fluttered through the air, gently landing on the carpet below him as he sobbed, body trembling. He didn’t know what the demon would truly have turned into within the time they had separated from each other. He didn’t know where he stood anymore. He wouldn’t blame Crowley if he hated him. He probably already never wanted to see him again. This fight was their biggest one of all, and it was the only one that mattered. They had their disagreements before, of course, but this one really took the cake.

Even worse? Crowley didn’t know half of it. Metatron meant to separate them and they weren’t the only ones who could cast a miracle. While sipping his coffee, Aziraphale choked on the liquid when Metatron placed a vial of hellfire on the table across from him. He had simply given himself up, if it spared Crowley. Without question. Not only that, he had decided to press a blade against his throat, which he had cast a vanishing spell on so that Crowley wouldn’t see it, and to ask if his point was perfectly clear.

With a gulp, he nodded and made the wager with Metatron. He’d go to Heaven, but if they touched one hair on Crowley’s head? The deal was off. Not only that. If Crowley got any sense that he was being forced? He would be killed on the spot. The thought of it alone was enough to send a shiver down his spine.

And then it all went to, well, he guessed Hell. Ironic.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Muriel questioned. Aziraphale gave a humorless laugh, nodding slowly. He wasn’t going to let himself be in denial anymore. He knew what he felt. In fact, he knew for quite a long time. He was quite stupid for denying its existence.

It simply seemed it was easier to simply live out their existence and know what they had instead of actually putting a label on it. However, when did Crowley that day? It was terrifying. He wanted to say “I love you.” Instead, that seemed to get caught in his throat and what slipped out instead was “I forgive you.”

It seemed a lot of three-word sentences were giving him trouble as of late. Though they weren’t normally strenuous, they definitely seemed to be posing a challenge for Aziraphale.

He even had the audacity to guiltily raise his fingers to his lips where Crowley’s own ones were. Even to this day, when his mind wandered, he swore he could still feel his lips against his. A feeling which he didn’t let himself cherish as he felt he didn’t deserve it. He had rejected Crowley. More than 6000 years of friendship and comradery down the drain.

Composing himself, he sat up straight once again, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Muriel gave a sympathetic smile as they pointed outside the bookshop’s window. Aziraphale shifted his gaze but didn’t turn his head.

“I have also been making sure to take good care of Mr.Crowley’s car ! He left the Bentley parked outside. Not sure why though.” Aziraphale almost gave himself whiplash from how quickly he turned his head towards them.

“You have The Bentley?!”

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens spoilers #david tennant #neil gaiman #micheal sheen #good omens fanfiction #i wrote a fic #this was fun to write #enjoy my brainrot #i wrote this instead of sleeping #hope you enjoy #🫶🏼

[veveisveryuncool]

so, i was wondering about that mirror AU. first off i wanna say, i really like the designs. but i did have a few questions.

So first off, for Magolor, you say he's basically blind but it looks like he has an eye in his mouth like the original soul version. Is that not an eye or am I just going crazy?

Secondly, You mentioned how Adeline is the most normal of them. So are all the characters basically insane and if so, how would you say they rank on the sanity scale?

And finally, and I just have to ask this being a fan of both these characters, but you mentioned that Magolor has someone to help guide him, being blind. Is there by any chance that this seeing-eye jester you mentioned happens to be Marx?

ohhh hi!! tysm for asking about this! i'm really glad people took an interest in those mirror world counterparts, it means a lot :]]

ok, to start, i'm gonna talk about adeleine and sanity :D (since the two magolor questions tie in with each other and bc i like talking about her)

here is the "sanity" scale! i put this in quotes because they are all a little bit insane in their own ways <3

adeleine is the "most normal" here, not because she is mentally sane, but because she basically lives the same life she had pre-DL3 (living alone in cloudy parks, surrounded by her living discarded WIPs, having various temper tantrums). obviously, she still plays a role in the mirror-world version of 64:CS, but she let the whole "shiver star oh my god. earth is dead. humans are gone and i'm the only one left" thing completely take over her psyche. she stays up in the clouds, desperately trying to remember life on earth, and maybe– just maybe, convince herself that she's not alone.

magolor is doing surprisingly okay here?? like, sure he barely managed to scrape his way out of purgatory, and now has the remains of his wrongdoings etched into his body, but he's taking it like a champ 👍👍 he denies what happened to him was his fault (even when it totally was), and because of it, his AD experience was ramped up to 11. he feels no remorse for his betrayal, and instead no longer fights kirby simply because he gave up trying. he's also got the whole..eye and crown thing going on. so.

elfilin is next, with him basically being confined to the Pickle Jar. he's trapped in his own mind (forever wandering the isolated isles) and just kinda floats there, waiting for something to save him from an eternity of chaos. i put him above adeleine because of the situation that leads him there in the first place. since the initial splitting of elfilis/elfilin was a lot more messy, it means that they're stuck in a yin-yang scenario. instead of completely good, elfilin is mostly good, and that sliver of darkness increased his susceptibility to fecto forgo, drawing him to lab discovera. the beast pack captures him and tries to fuse him with forgo, but because of the discordance, it's taking a lot longer. the "good" part of elfilin hangs on, trapped in his dreams and slowly losing his grip, which is represented by his constant crying of the blood cell-like orbs from chaos elfilis' fight.

ribbon is. not doing so hot here. not only is she on the verge of breaking (mentally and physically), she has essentially isolated herself to complete an impossible mission. since the crystal was smashed into thousands upon thousands of pieces, she'll likely spend the rest of her life searching for each shard. she wallows in guilt and self-depreciation (even though it's not her fault!!), and is also fighting off dark matter possession at any given point. her will is strong, but how long can she last?

okay!! magolor time!!

magolor's seeing-eye jester is indeed marx! (though he will kill you if you call him that) while mirror-marx is even less of a good choice to befriend than normal marx, their friendship still upholds :]

while yeah, magolor does have a huge-ass eye in his mouth, it's not him that's doing the seeing. the visual information goes straight to the master crown, if this makes sense.

the master crown's power has dulled, now forming a symbiotic relationship with him. magolor provides the crown with a body to host, and the crown's magic allows him survive AD, basic perception (he's not gonna run into a tree anytime soon, but can't read or see faces), and a huge ego boost.

#cw body horror #just in case #i think about these guys a lot #put them through the blender #mirror marx is in there but barely #anyways this is a marx with zero inhibitions. normally his pranks are harmless if not self driven. but mirror marx wants blood. #hes also oddly polite here #kirby series #adeleine kirby #ribbon kirby #elfilin #magolor #marx kirby #ask

[utilitycaster]

Someone needs to fight back by drawing Imogen with sharp angle+narrow frame glasses that sit just on the end of her nose so she looks down through them, and they make her seem distant and haughty about everything.

Ok so anon I know this is you joking (and while personally I'm like let's just not do the glasses*, I agree that angular art styles for Imogen are really good and love to see them), but like...frankly, I'm in a hotel for the night for work and have very little going on so I just want to talk about Imogen! I think she has a somewhat elusive personality, especially compared to Laura's past two characters, both of whom were pretty extroverted and I think the fanon is simply so wildly different from reality that despite her central role she at times feels like an unknown quantity.

Imogen is not sweet and retiring. She's not terribly haughty; but she's definitely a little sharp, even from the start. She's frustrated with the administrator at the Starpoint Academy despite asking for what is essentially a significant favor, and doesn't attempt to hide it - and that's in episode 1. The fanon idea of Imogen didn't even get past the half-hour mark of the first episode of the campaign before zoning out, briefly coming to at the word "headache" because the sickfic fodder alarm went off or something, but Imogen is prickly and possessive of a certain ruthlessness from quite early on. Nor is she the innocent - her first thought to cover up the noise in the hotel room is to grab Dorian and unbutton her shirt. The idea of Laudna being the prickly, worldly one and Imogen the sweet ingenue should have been dead before Bertrand.

I think the best way to describe her though is that she is walled off. There's the figurative but extremely real psychic walls, which she's only recently been able to let down, but in general Imogen just doesn't quite mix into groups. There's always a certain amount of distance that she holds. It's an incredible change from Jester, who was famously the one to bridge gaps, or even Vex, whose post-adventuring career is the most openly political of Vox Machina's. I think Orym's leadership pep talk, while a good thought, fails, because Imogen is comfortable playing the leader in a lie, but ultimately she wants to neither lead nor follow.

Anyway, that's the thing about Imogen: I genuinely do not think she consciously believes herself better than other people, certainly not in an "I'm so awesome" manner; but she does hold herself aloof. She has concrete proof of the terrible thoughts that strangers have and I think does not realize the flaws of her own thought patterns as a result. I don't want to say it's a lack of shame or embarrassment but it certainly feels faintly atrophied. It's like the social contract has been just a bit corrupted. I think I described it before as that she sees hypocrisy as "not honestly saying what you're thinking to your allies" rather than being about a discrepancy of word and action. I also wonder if the fact that Imogen spends so much time in people's heads is tied to the fact that it took her until she was 26 and had no other options in order to leave Gelvaan, despite the fact that she wasn't happy there.

I'm really interested to see how it goes because I don't actually see this as a story that can resolve purely because of the power of love and friendship. I suspect Imogen is just starting to realize these things about herself, and I similarly suspect she doesn't really care for them...but I don't think she knows quite how to stop or change nor does she entirely want to.

I think this sense of being caught between so many things - always being the secret third option - is really well demonstrated with her powers. A pretty consistent theme in Critical Role through both Campaign 2 and 3 is regarding the sources of power and their disconnect from any morality - power simply is, the wielder's choices are what matter. Imogen started out wishing to be rid of her abilities, and she's increasingly moving to embrace them, even as she simultaneously has found out that the source of her powers is likely a literal cosmic horror and her mother is much more than a voice in her dreams. It's fascinating to me that the people she tends to be most honest with are the people with the most unknown pasts, and I feel she's moving towards an era of reinventing herself. Which will put that big question of aloofness at the forefront - it is, to be fair, faster to go alone, and easier to reinvent yourself when the people who knew you before aren't around.

Anyway this is a really long way to say "haughty, not really, but she is all angles, in multiple senses of the word."

*tangent here but: I was scrolling the Imogen tag recently and something I noticed that's very telling is that most art of Imogen in glasses (and to be fair a lot of art generally) isn't described, but when it is, the description also almost always leaves out her glasses. Which really puts the kibosh on the idea this was ever about normalizing glasses or uh, any aids for people with visual impairments, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#answered #Anonymous #imogen temult #critical role

[calaisreno]

Point of View in Fiction: Some Observations

I did a poll on point of view in fanfiction a while ago. The results didn't surprise me; I knew that some people just don't read 1st person stories, and most people don’t care about POV. I was more interested in the reasons people gave for their preference.

It's a personal thing, how someone tells you a story, and if you don't like the narrative voice, you will associate it with other things. Readers don’t often think about voice, but it is one of the most important ways a story draws you in, or sends you to the back button. I suspect it's narrative voice that is affecting some readers more than POV.

I’ve never hit the back button on any fic because of the POV. I have hit that button because of format, paragraphing, and a few other issues. I’m an English teacher who taught creative writing for many of those years. Now I don’t read things that feel like student writing-- simply because I can’t enjoy reading something if it feels like I should be grading it. If there are spelling errors or common grammar mistakes that I see over and over in student work, I don’t read it. It might be a good story, but I can't put myself in the right headspace to appreciate it because it feels like work.

Judging from the replies to the poll, some people associate first person POV with bad writing, but there are many other things that flag a story as badly written. And a badly written story isn’t necessarily a bad story. (Barbara Woodhouse assured us that there are no bad dogs; this may be true for stories as well, but choice is an individual matter. There are some breeds I would not choose as a companion.)

I was given the task of teaching creative writing because the admin in charge of the schedule at my school needed another English elective and I had a hole in my schedule. I was an avid reader and had written a lot of original fiction at that point, and thought having students write poems and stories might be a nice change from essays and book reports. My feelings about it were not relevant. Nobody cared whether I was qualified; it was either Creative Writing or Study Hall (i.e. Purgatory) for me. I did not hesitate.

The reality: I loved it and hated it.

Many of my young writers were reluctant, having been placed in my class to fill a hole in their schedules; they did not enjoy writing in the least. A hundred words was an accomplishment for some of them; if they could break this barrier, they got smiley faces and exclamation points. Others were wildly enthusiastic, producing pages of badly spelled and punctuated narrative, a chaotic jumble of scene and dialogue with random flashes of brilliance.

Grading a story is not like grading an essay. The fledgling writers who are serious need to know that spelling, punctuation, and grammar matter: it’s the suit you put on for the interview so you get the job. The ones who dislike writing need encouragement to see that it doesn't have to be punishment. It can be play.

A few observations from my years working with student writers:

Inexperienced fiction writers tend to use POV 1st person more often. Most of these writers are also enthusiastic readers. First person POV helps them find the camera eye focus they realize fiction needs. However fantastic, the story they write is their story, intimate and personal, and 1st person feels most comfortable to them. They need encouragement and a few friendly suggestions, not a paper bloodied by my red pen. In writing process, first drafts are allowed to be horrible.

The non-readers in my class were the most reluctant writers; they often failed to understand POV and wrote from an outsider third-person POV which ended up being more of a summary than a story. My job was to show them how to pull scenes out of the summary. People talking, doing things.

We all start somewhere.

Publishers note that first submissions are often written in first person. It is not that they reject these stories because of that; the stories have other amateur flaws and the POV is just a flag for other issues. First person is not bad, it’s just harder for new writers to pull off well.

Several novels I’ve recently read use first person narrator to good effect: Piranesi comes to mind, The Rule of Four, and Moriarty. The Left Hand of Darkness is a story I can’t even imagine in third person-- and it has two narrators! The original Sherlock Holmes stories (all but a couple) are written in first person, with Doctor Watson narrating.

There are choices even within a first person narrative. The main character doesn’t have to narrate. Watson isn’t the main character in ACD’s stories, Holmes is. Watson is an involved/interested observer (a common use of first person); he stands in for the reader, seeing the mystery unfold, not understanding what all the clues mean until— surprise!— Holmes reveals the solution. I have read mysteries where the first person narrator turns out to be the murderer; the shock value of this fades if you use it every time, but it’s effective on some stories. First person is not bad, if chosen for a good reason.

And third person has its own set of problems. The multiple “he” and “his” that need clarification. The accidental wandering out of limited point of view into semi-omniscience. Even a close, third-person limited narrative provides some distance from the viewpoint character.

Second person is rare and considered gimmicky. I wrote a story in second POV once; the only comment from my most admiring reader: NO. Just, NO. Since that horror, I’ve used first person with second person address in a couple stories (Blessings and The Story of Us, if you’re curious). It’s not a choice I’d often make, but sometimes it’s the right one.

Several of my favourite fanfics use the first person brilliantly. (Pointing to ivyblossom’s The Progress of Sherlock Holmes and The Quiet Man.) When reading, I generally don’t notice point of view unless I think about it; if the narrative flows, the choice obviously works. I don't read much in other fandoms, but think that the Sherlock fandom has a lot of really talented and experienced writers, better than many published stories I’ve read.

I use first person in some of my stories, usually because I’ve found a narrative voice I like. I’ve also rewritten stories after the first draft, changing POV (first to third, or third to first) because I thought it would work better. My feeling is that neither is better in general; in a specific story it should be a deliberate choice, not an accidental one. It’s one of many things to think about when writing a narrative. Voice is one of the most important.

My conclusions:

Reading for pleasure means that the best story is the one you love. It’s a personal choice, not a debate.

Writing well develops over time, as a product of many things. If you’re writing for pleasure, not pay, you should write what you love. Do not change your story because of what a poll says.

If you’re unsure or unhappy about what you’ve written, find a beta reader. Ask them questions. Pay them in adoration. Return the favour; it’s a great way to learn.

Polls are useful only for provoking thought. My thanks to all who participated!

#writing fiction #writing advice #fanfiction #writing for fun #point of view

[bluegekk0]

Any tips on how to draw PK's head and horns? I've not been able to figure out a good, consistent way of doing it myself yet.

well, for starters, i significantly simplified their shape. if you compare fpk to canon pk, his design is much rounder, and his horns are considerably shorter. it's mostly a stylistic choice (though the roundness of the horns can be explained in the au), but it makes them much easier to draw + they help to give him a more streamlined look, which fits fpk's lizard aesthetic, although i think it would work with different interpretations as well

this is generally how i approach his headshape. very round and salamander like, with a subtle snout, especially visible from the side. of course, this can vary as i'm very inconsistent when i draw, but this is more or less what i try to go for

his head is very round from the top, and the neck meets the lower jaw at an angle, which allows him to lay his head flat on the ground and gives it a more elongated appearance than what you'd see in a more "human" like neck position

like i said, the horns are probably the biggest deviation from his canon appearance. if you've been following me for a while, you'll notice that i gradually made them shorter and rounder with time, and this is because, well, it's significantly less headache inducing to work with. plus i really like the spade like shape, i think it flows very nicely. when i draw the crown, i start with a dome like shape with lines that are angled towards a singular point, and then just add details + more pronounced tips. if you want a more canon-like look, you can always make them more "wavy" even if you decide to shorten them

different perspectives is something i still struggle with, but i think the design choices i went with make it a little easier. the dome-like shape for the crown becomes a kind of cylinder, and the longer and flatter head also helps with figuring out how he'd look from the bottom (once again, toothless from how to train your dragon comes to the rescue)

the thing that i still haven't figured out is the side horns. i make sure they're visible no matter the angle, but what would they actually look like? i'm afraid this is one of the things that will remain in the "cartoon logic" territory, but i've seen various different interpretations similar to these, so perhaps you'll figure something out. all i know is that, if there's a ridge or a line of spikes on his head, they end somewhere on the lower jaw (they don't go around his entire head). i guess the closest to what i do when i paint would be the smooth ridge, and if i had to choose one option, it would probably be this one. but in most of my art i simply just pretend it's not there haha

i hope this is somewhat helpful. i don't know how to do tutorials and i suck at explaining, but perhaps you'll find some inspiration in these. i tried to sketch out what a more "human like" appearance could look like, with a shorter and flatter face, but it just looks goofy no matter what. sorry haha

#ask stuff #ask art #gekko.art #art guide

[billiejean485]

Okay - a long rant ahead and some explanations.

I would also like to point out that what I'm about to talk about mostly concerns the Christian community and it may not be interesting to anyone else or would just lead to pointless arguments that I don't want to be a part of, so - read at your own discretion after the explanations.

EXPLANATION

Yes, you have probably all noticed that I haven't completely stopped indulging in Miraculous stuff, especially after this post, and the reason is - I am simply enjoying (or have been doing so up till now) the concepts, the fan art and the never used possibilities and lost potential of the show and its characters. Which leads me directly to the second part of this post.

TO THE CHRISTIAN COMMUNITY WITHIN MIRACULOUS LADYBUG FANDOM

Yesterday, I gave this vid a watch and discovered something I wished I knew from day one of this show.

Among all the good points, something really struck me, and it was this:

.... Look.

I know Thomas Astruc is an atheist (or however he defines himself) and that he's a very anti-religious person - but this is downright offensive.

So, what I wanted to bring to attention.... was that this show really isn't just some goofy fantasy x sci-fi mix that doesn't delve into religion or myths - but that that is far from the truth.

Miraculous goes directly into everything and reshapes it to the viewing pleasure of people who have no religious beliefs whatsoever and are, like it's creator, of a mindset that it's all just nonsense, thus disrespecting culture and faith of humongous groups of religious communities.

As an (Orthodox) Christian, I can't talk much about people of other faith, though I know there were also big problems with the Muslim communities. Because of that, I am just going to stick to what I'm capable of concluding.

... You know, we all have the right to believe whatever we want to believe in. If atheistic people don't want to believe in anything, that's their choice. But spitting in the face of absolutely everyone who is of different opinion, especially through a worldwide known show (and directed at kids, to make matters worse) is definitely not alright. We have the right to choose our faith as much as any other individual and absolutely no one should be allowed to say that we should keep to ourselves as some kind of 'minority' and let the 'majority' take over, because they're right since there's a bigger number of them.

Speaking up about something negative within a certain religious community that affects everyone is one thing - telling them to shut up altogether is another.

If you think I am blowing things out of proportion with this.... do a little research on Astruc's X (formerly Twitter). I kid you not when I tell you that I have practically quoted him in the last line of the paragraph above my previous one. Amanda does the same in her video as well.

But what am I really getting at here with this post?

I wanted to send out a warning to fellow Christians that are watching the show and to boost up the awareness to this problem.

Literally... all the problems I've been having with the show for the past two years come down to this. The way the characters are treated, the direction the show is taking... everything. If I had known about the creators' opinions on this topic I would have seen disappointment a mile away, and it never would have affected me as bad as it did.

I stopped drawing for a whole year for crying out loud! And I've seen during that period that many people are absolutely unaware of what is lurking behind the curtains. The show is meant to take you to a certain point of viewing the world the way its creators believe are right, and it's not going to stop doing that anytime soon. What's more, I believe (and I am talking from experience here, from other disappointments in my past) that things are only going to get worse.

The Love Square is bait. The prolonged plot is there to keep the viewers interested. Heck, Astruc confirmed that publicly - it's needed to exist in order to keep the show successful and running. He thinks he's doing a good job at it, and, to be fair - business-wise, he is. That doesn't speak about the quality of the story though. But that's another topic I'm not going to bring up here...

I just wanted to give a heads-up to peeps, who do have an incorporated belief system in their lives, to not get swindled. It's not innocent fun, and that's going to get more obvious as time passes and the creators get more freedom to express their opinions.

I'm sorry if you've invested yourselves in this show as much as I have. I truly believed there wasn't another system directed against religion somewhere in its shadows and that it was a safe watch - however, it isn't. If you do have a life dedicated to something this show is against, all I can tell you is - re-evaluate what you're watching here.

For all the rest of you.... I suppose I have nothing to say. If you read all the way up to here and still disagree with me... well, feel free to do it. But I have no discussion to be made with you.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #ml salt #thomas astruc #thomas astruc salt #christianity #orthodox christianity #religion #tv show #atheism #miraculous ladybug fandom #ml fandom

[lavendelhummel]

There was so much in these first WoT episodes that my head couldn’t deal with it until I had written down at least my basic thoughts about them. So here is what my brain made me scream into the keyboard before being able to watch on (ep1&2) - for obvious reasons it’s 75% Moiraine, but I mean have you looked at her??

Where is the dark friend social? Because they have the aes Sedai symbol in stone on the ground outside.

Love the phrasing „The one who walks the world, the one who was and will be, but is not yet the dragon“. Because Rand is but is not yet the dragon!

Obviously the „we are in the middle of a meeting, a quite important one, really“ is great and hilarious. Also I said it before and I will say it again I love Ishamaeals nihilism and I think it wasn’t used as good as it could have been in the books, the ending about what good and evil and grey even means couldn’t have played more with him, I hope the show goes there. And his speech is great. But I really thought he would feed that girl to the trollocs for a second.

Also he says „monster“ not trollocs, which strikes me as AoL -speech? Children in the 3rd age know what trollocs are, in his childhood, they wouldn’t have known, they didnt have „monsters“ outside of stories…

Also i noticed for the first time „father of lies“ is an interesting name for the forsaken, who in his own mind is simply saying the truth, „Life is an endless, pointless repetition“. He doesn’t really lie, does he? Here at least he does not towards the girl, while many people probably would have.

Obviously the first Moiraine scene is devastating, what else can be said? I mean except for the fact that she es so beautiful still, that i may have stopped breathing. Her movements are so precise. She has a task and she does it and no matter what’s going on inside here, she is determined to fulfill the selfmade task without delay. 

Also her outfit- the hair-thingies that are of the Lady Moiraine Damodred and look expensive and the physical work clothes she wears, show so nicely the different aspects of her character. 

Light, how many buckets this bath must need. And why does she need this big bath? She does, because she is her and she would never take a smaller one, just to have less work but, Light, Moiraine!

Also what is that necklace that she doesn’t take off during the bath?

It is good to see her focused on herself and not in daes daem‘er mode.

I can‘t with the way she looks at her hands. Those slow movements as she stretches them, holds them. It is more than devastating. You can feel her loss through these movements. So precise still, and such controlled movements! The looking at her hands, because feeling them is not enough, doesn’t work, because they do not feel right, are not working as they should, but they are, they are doing her bodies movement so precisely. And yet not enough. And her eyes. The way she looks at them. So present and absent at the same time. Such horror and resignation at the same time. And then the hand sinks in the water and — and her eyes again, drawing upwards in that last sequence, its so devastating. 

Ahhhhh she is so pretty! Love Moiraine surrounded by books! Ahhh her voice! I mean, her voice in general, but how she sharpens it and how it is her voice and the same but its different from how it was before. Especially towards Lan. And she doesn’t look at him. 

„Everyone has a choice. And every choice as a consequence.“!!! That is such in important sentence for life in general. I want to print it on a tshirt (and give it to my sister). Also Moiraine is so pretty. Also „Door.“ The hurt. Uh, she is hurting so bad and hurting him so bad because she doesn’t know what else to do. 

Egewene in the Amyrlin‘s study 👀. Interesting. But where is siuan? Love the White tower optics. 

Omg Alanna. she is even more than she is in fanfics and that says something. 

It’s so great that they adapted the „novices watching the wardens train“ from New Spring. Just because of the sillyness and New spring-ness. And also shows that Egwene is not that much in with the other novices. 

Obviously the Nyn/Egwene convo is great, Dont smile, I have enough character, etc. It’s Them!! And they introduce more aes Sedai lore. „Even the amyrlin“ haha, they dont know Siuan Sanche at all do they? 

Love serious Alanna. Good to see she’s more than sex and snacks again. Why isn’t Egwene using her hands? As a challenge to herself? because of her her cultural exchange later? Did she hurt them? 

Who is that bald grey sister? She is intriguing me. 

„Who’s ever been hurt by a little talk (BY AN AES SEDAI!!!)? Hmmmmm.

OMG How is Moiraine this pretty? Poem in blood! In old tongue! Omg Moiraine‘s hands. Her nod ahhhh. Her smugness, ahhh I love her. 

THE WHEEL WEAVES AS THE WHEEL WILLS!!!!! +  LIGHT BE WITH YOU

I really like show Nyneave more than book Nyneave! She is as headstrong but at the same time more reflective and less caricature. 

I do get the disappointment that its not Siuan who throws Nyn at the wall but I think its so interesting that it‘s Liandrin! Does she do it with the same intention? This Liandrin is so much more than a dark sister! She might be evil and she is unlikable but she cares. I think? Because we dont really know if it‘s an act so we? But it feels as if she really cares about other aes Sedai, including Nyneave as she is a woman who can channel. And that fits but is also messy and interesting. And the thing about wanting Nyneave to reach that power, that no one, not even her can take from her is great. And the thing about not everyone accessing Saidar the same way, that anger can be a way and that the teachings of the White Tower are not always the only way. 

The talk Perrin has with Ingtar is great too, because it gives actual substance to the whole violence thing. Anger is scary! Anger can make you use violence, that makes so much more sense than the „i am a big guy“ thing from the books. Also good that they mentioned Laila again. And it takes away the whol Nyneave = anger personified away. Other characters obviously deal with this too! I really like this non-caricature version of her better. 

Moiraine!!! + Lan!! Also the little eyebrow movement she does when he walks out. saying „its fine. It’s not fine but i deserve this. I am too stubborn to cry. I am distancing myself from him and from myself and i will not even think about it. I will work now.“ Her little eyebrow movement that says „I hurt but i wont show it“. 

I love that it‘s Bel Tine again. I love their lanterns and lights and it all. Also interesting that Egwene remembered and Nyn didn‘t. Because as much as Nyneave is about community and protecting her wards, so is Egwene, Egwene is about glueing together old traditions and new ways of life, here as she is building a Two River lantern in the White Tower, and later when she is wielding a trident. 

Question: is that Aldieb? Also Dagger Moiraine!! Is she for real fighting two *fades* alone with nothing but a knife? And getting him by staying calm and observant. 

When she says „Lan.“ And you can har that she has not said it in months. It is her voice, the voice that has interviewed Boyle Damon and the other 19 people but this is *her* voice saying „Lan.“ Adressing *him*. Getting his attention. And this voice is hoarse (ok maybe also because she cant really use her breathing muscles with her sliced abdomen, but) because she hasn’t talked to him in months, not really, not to *him*, and now she is saying his name. 

This is the most brutal thing ever. It’s simply brutal. Her face. The power, she feels it and then it isn’t hers and i mean good that they live but this is the most brutal thing ever. What aren’t you telling me? Everything. That it’s impossible but it mustn’t be impossible. This is brutal. 

2)

Rand having acoustic hallucinations while working in the mental health asylum has very strong me-during-my-psychiatry-rotation-vibes (the difference being he went and got a job there and me deciding not to stay, no, nope lets stay with my lovely lymphomas)

But it fits his character very well! He is good at that!! And I also love how we are getting introduced to the sword forms this way! It’s a good way do put them in words. 

That asshole reminded me of the girl internet anxiety disorder lecture mocking how you could be afraid of these things, with people with this disorder sitting there and having to listen. People suck.

I miss the intro!

Ok Moiraine in this outfit is killing me. How am i supposed to follow any dialogue when she is sitting there looking like that? But Light! Not only Lan (her responsibility! But she couldn’t! She couldn’t protect him, heal him, she could do nothing!) but also herself must have been healed with the One Power, and yes she has had that done before and wouldn’t have been able to heal herself either way, the situation is so different. That must have been such an awful situation. Feeling the power, knowing it touches you, but you cant touch it. Not only having someone use it in your presence but *on* you. Oh Moiraine. Oh Moiraine. 

She has been exiled from the White Tower!!!!!!! And Verin knows!! I cant continue  watching this show. The difference between her „I“ now and her „we“ in season 1 and Lan’s continued „we“! And how she doesn’t manage to block the tenderness out of her voice, when she says „you are still weak from the healing“, and then noticed her slip up and voice slightly changed but not too much for it to be obvious adds that little quip to drive him away. Oh Moiraine. 

I don‘t really like what they are doing with Perrin‘s senses, why is it visions suddenly? Not only to portray on screen but also him thinking it is happening now, and Elayas calling it visions? I like him and Hurin merged though, it makes sense. 

Liandrin bringing Nyneave to the Yellows!! She gets her, and she knows what it takes and she really wants Nyn to break the block! And Nyn‘s awe!!! She found the thing Ivon and Maskim asked about last episode! It’s great to see this this early on, and not just later as in the books where her blind rage over Moiraine takes up most her motivation so long. But, Liandrin saying healing is a response to symptoms and disease… hmm. I mean sure it can be, and honestly its super important because easing symptoms is important?! But you can also treat causally as they did right there, that was not a symptomatic treatment on the girl. Plus prevention is a thing. Sorry Liandrin, I do see why the yellows wouldn’t have wanted you. The way she says „I am allowed to teach Accepted“ hahaha Liandrin trying so hard being cool. 

Some of the greatest pairings in the history of the world were formed between novices in adjacent rooms!!! Yay for the pillowfriends?!?!! Who is Elana Katab though, do we know her?? But really this is so cute, her wanting to be close to Egwene immediately and proposing it like this and talking about a shared future (seconds after meeting *cough* seconds after introducing herself as daughter heir *cough cough*) 

Ouhhhh the foreshadowing in the convo between Alanna and Sheriam!! Ouhhhlaa this show is too much for me. 

Omg Verin talking about oath loopholes!?!?!?!?!

P.S. Why is Moiraine so pretty?

The pond!!!! The pond story and they tell them!! And they are smiling. 

So much foreshadowing!! Mat!!

She didn‘t! Did she really say „When i am with you, I can pretend i am with him,“?? Ouhh she‘s bad. „Pretend I am whole again,“ you mean pretend you never bored that freaking hole in the dimension or what?! Also yeppp she is hot. Shit.

„I knew when the time came, you‘d be able to survive on your own.“ Thats what she wasn’t telling you, Lan. For 20 years and she never planned to survive this with you. She knew you‘d survive on your own. (But doesn’t this contradict the Myrelle plot?)

*Her loyalty is with the dragon reborn.* Thats Moiraine. Always and *always* will the dragon, will the world, will fate itself come before anything. 

And then she says his name „al‘Lan Mandargoran“ and rides away. Oh my heart. Oh Light.

Fuck, the suldam and Damane are creepy. I mean, they should be and they are creepy-creepy-creepy in the books too, so… but unexpectedly seeing them on screen? Yeah mission accomplished they are creepy. 

Also creepy: Rand’s little smile at the end. I guess things are going to happen.

#this is very spamy #but I had to get it out of the system and now thought why not put it here #now I might be able to watch episode 4 #(well saturday because sleep and work and did I mention that I never have time and life sucks a little at the moment?) #seriously I am in no condition to watch WoT #these episodes overwhelmed me so much that I had to take breaks every 20 min #and didnt manage more than one per day even though I had a free weekend #anyway I love moiraine and her reaction seemed very logical and on point. it was good and I get it #wheel of time #moiraine damodred #egwene al'vere #wot s2 spoilers #I don't think this is #wot book spoilers #but anyway. and good night

[hardboiledteacozy]

"Making a big deal out of any dish they make for you" combined with "help fix their outfit before they leave" for any combination in 4ggravate. You can pick two, three, all four, i just want to be at least a little vague for revenge.

You definitely get to be a bit vague for revenge since my own prompt was pretty vague. Wonderful prompt, btw, so thanks Alex 💜

Prompt list here

I surprisingly ended up focusing on Kavetham, though the whole thing is still 4ggravate and does involve all four of them. I tried to be brief because otherwise I would have ended up with a multichapter thing here.

Story under this readmore:

"Will you hold still for a moment?" Kaveh hisses.

His hands pull at both ends of a dark green silk tie which currently hangs listlessly around Alhaitham's neck, as though it has given up on ever getting tied. Haitham sighs, not for the first time this evening, and rolls his eyes far back enough that his head tilts back with the motion.

"I swear, you're like a petulant child sometimes," Kaveh goes on to say, but Haitham can feel the warmth rolling off his tongue, completely at odds with his words of choice. The architect's fingers find their way to Haitham's chin and hold him in place. "There, stay just like that. I'll be done in just a second."

"Why are we doing this again?" Haitham finds himself asking. He actually holds himself still this time, perhaps enjoying the way Kaveh's breath tickles his exposed neck as he leans in to do an intricate knot that will inevitably feel too tight the rest of the evening.

"It's our anniversary," Kaveh replies matter-of-factly.

"Our anniversary was two months ago."

Kaveh's hands stop, but they keep a gentle grip on Haitham's collar. This lets him know Kaveh is not done with him yet, so he does not move. He does, however, stare the man dead in the eye and cock his brow at him in silent question.

"You actually remember." It should feel insulting that Kaveh sounds so surprised, but Haitham supposes he can't blame him. It's not like they've ever made a big deal of it at any point over the years.

"How could I forget? I even cooked for you that evening."

"You mean you made that yourse-- Alhaitham! You should've said something. I thought you'd just happened to order takeout that day."

Haitham sighs, again. "I learned the recipe from the owner of the tavern because I know you like that dish. Before you say anything, Cyno was the one who did the actual talking. I don't know if he sweet-talked it out of the man or just intimidated Lambad into giving it to him. He just handed me the paper, and I simply followed the instructions."

Kaveh opens his mouth but can't seem to find the words to say, so he just closes it again. He repeats this motion a few times, lips flapping uselessly, before finally remembering he has a half-tied tie in his hands and Haitham is still waiting for him. So he pulls at the ends once again, this time to wrap the tie up in an intricate knot that contrasts beautifully with the subtle pattern on Haitham's dark suit. He then pulls him by the tie into a kiss, hoping this will convey all that he cannot bring himself to express in words right now.

"You're welcome," Haitham mumbles against his lips once Kaveh pulls back. "Now why are we doing this again? Since we've established it's clearly not our anniversary."

"Not our anniversary," Kaveh corrects him, poking Haitham in the chest and then pointing to himself. "Our anniversary." And as he says this, he draws a circle in the air to also encompass two people who are, unbeknownst to Alhaitham, currently waiting for them at a candlelit restaurant in another part of town, overlooking the moonlit bay.

"Oh," is all he can think to say.

Haitham takes a moment to think back and try to pinpoint the exact day Kaveh is referring to. It's clearly not the first time the four of them shared a bed; that happened some years ago during a shared leave where they had happened to coincide in their choice of lodgings at that lakeside resort in Fontaine. It couldn't be when they'd teamed up to overthrow the government because they weren't all together at that point yet. Perhaps Kaveh was thinking of something more mundane... And that's when it hits him.

"You mean when the four of us had that talk at the tavern last year."

"Of course."

"You've been keeping track?"

"You mean you haven't?"

Haitham ignores the jab. He takes a deliberate step back, turning around to look at himself in the mirror where Kaveh had been touching up his make-up before he saw Haitham struggling behind him.

Not bad, he thinks as he inspects Kaveh's handiwork on the tie. Having given himself time to think this through, he finally speaks, "Not keeping close enough track to consider today as significant in our relationship, or to even think of it as our shared anniversary, no. Especially not as our first one."

Kaveh steps up behind him , chin resting on his shoulder as he joins him in the contemplation of their reflection. Their eyes meet in the mirror. "Then when /would/ you consider is a good date, since you're getting pedantic about this?"

Haitham doesn't answer right away, taking the time to consider the significant times the four of them have shared together over the years. They've toed the line between casual involvement and established relationship for quite some time, perhaps never actually needing to give it a name or anything like an official status.

It wasn't until a year ago, when they had been gathered at the tavern on a regular night out, that the topic had been broached - by Kaveh, no less.

Cyno had been idly shuffling a deck, talking about the beauty of probability with Haitham, who was in turn debating with him over the use of strategy in a controlled environment. Tighnari had been lightly leaning against Haitham, partly to listen in to their conversation and partly just because it was a cool night and Haitham's cape always felt comfortably warm to the touch. Kaveh, half-finished wineglass sitting before him, had been sketching them, as much for the dynamic posture the three men had adopted as for the simple desire to capture this moment and freeze it in time, even if just in a simple drawing.

He had suddenly stopped and looked up from the sketchbook, waiting for their shared attention to focus on him before asking, "What are we?"

The ensuing debate had continued late into the night, spilling out of the tavern after closing time and back to Haitham's house.

And the rest, as they said, was history. Perhaps Kaveh was right in this regard. This simple night probably did count as their 'official' anniversary, in a way.

"I'm not being pedantic," Haitham clarifies first. "I just hadn't considered that we even needed a shared date, especially since the process itself was a lot more involved than just the four of us deciding we were together. Are we supposed to celebrate every iteration of our joint relationship?"

Kaveh shrugs and moves away, rummaging through a small lacquer box where he keeps his jewelry as he looks for the perfect accesory to go with his white suit.

"I don't see why not," he says as he reaches back to tie an emerald pendant around his neck. Haitham wordlessly grabs it from him and attaches it himself. Kaveh nods in thanks as he continues speaking. "Any excuse for a celebration is worth pursuing, isn't it?"

"Says the man who likes to lavishly spend on everything," Haitham chides him.

"This is just a one time thing. Tonight is special... Well, they're all special, but tonight is a cause for extra celebration because it was a culmination of sorts. I'm sure even you can see that."

Haitham sighs. "Alright, you've made your point, and I see where you're coming from."

Kaveh beams, and Haitham swears the room feels a little brighter than it did a moment before.

"So you agree?" Kaveh prods.

"I never said I agreed. I just said I see your point, which is not the same."

Kaveh then grumbles for some time, as though debating with himself whether to take Haitham's bait or not. Eventually, he throws both hands in the air with a huff. "You know what? Fine, I'll take that. I'm sure Nari and Cyno will agree with me anyway."

"So long as this doesn't set a precedent for how we're supposed to celebrate our respective anniversaries in the future," Haitham warns him.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you and Cyno can keep locking yourselves up in your room all day."

"And Tighnari will still be perfectly content not even acknowledging the date beyond sending a flower and a simple homemade dish," Haitham agrees with a curt nod. "Where are we going now anyway? You wouldn't have made me dress up like this just to head to the tavern."

"It's a surprise," Kaveh sing-songs.

Haitham makes a face at that. He does not like surprises. He does not like having to deviate from his usual routine. Kaveh is more than aware of this fact, so he's quick to amend. "Don't worry, it's just going to be us four, and the place is quiet. Nari and I scouted out the site beforehand to make sure you'd be comfortable."

"I trust you," Haitham nods, and Kaveh knows this encompasses all of you. He looks visibly less distraught too, which feels like a victory. Kaveh is confident he might even convince Haitham to repeat this every year, if he plays his cards right.

Haitham goes to fetch his keys, wallet, and book, stuffing them inside his belt pouch before opening the front door. No turning back now. "Fine then, let's go."

Kaveh is in the process of grabbing his own set of keys when a thought belatedly occurs to him.

"...Wait. Does this mean you've had Lambad's recipe in your possession for two months, and you haven't let me have it yet?"

"We're going to be late."

"Alhaitham!"

The two men step out into the night, softly bickering all the way to the restaurant. Here, at the only occupied table, one of the two men opens his eyes, one long ear twitching.

"They're here," Tighnari states.

"Did you h-ear them coming already?" Cyno asks with a grin.

Tighnari masterfully manages to avoid even acknowledging the pun. "They're talking about hummus, apparently."

"And they say romance is dead."

This actually earns Cyno a chuckle from Tighnari, but their conversation is cut short as they spot Haitham and Kaveh approaching. Nari waves at them and sees Kaveh visibly perk up as he spots them sitting at the table.

"Sorry for the wait," Kaveh greets them. "We ran into a little problem."

"I hope you two have bean well," Cyno replies, getting up to kiss the two in greeting.

"You heard us talking about hummus, didn't you?" Haitham states as much as he asks.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," is all Cyno will offer.

As Haitham sits at the table and regards the three men before him, he feels something tugging in his chest, and the feeling only intensifies as both Cyno and Nari reach for his hand and give it a gentle squeeze to welcome him.

As they raise their glasses and toast to the four of them, to whatever it is they have cultivated here, Haitham admits one thing to himself, albeit privately. Perhaps Kaveh was right in this regard. Perhaps some things are worth celebrating, if only as a culmination of their existence.

#jay writes #jay's genshin tag #kavetham #4ggravate #tag you're it #thank you Alex as ever #also this one went straight from my Google Keep notes to the post so I hope I didn't leave any typos #almost forgot to add the link to the list whoops

[syntia13treeman]

Case files 09.01

what I think happened in:

Case 09.01, the case of "Dice of Fate" or "Mr. Die and a very bad, horrible, no good roll."

Well well well. If it isn't an honest, good old fashioned statement. Fancy seeing it here. Not much left to puzzle out, we have it all laid out very nicely. The Dice make a comeback. When we've seen them last in nineteenth century, they were sitting pretty in the sack of the Gentleman (the mystery man in the woods, quite preoccupied with luck).

By nineteen-nineties they somehow came to be in possession of a young man named Gary. (Double meaning intended). As is their nature, the dice brought Gary luck when rolled. Good luck with high rolls, bad luck with low rolls.

Gary eventually decided that bouts of good luck were not worth the inevitable dive into misfortunes, which varied from leaky pipes to broken legs. Finding himself incapable of simply NOT rolling, he fell back on time-honoured tradition of making his problem somebody else's problem.

Somebody else, we'll call him SG (short for Statement Giver), has recently been dumped by his boyfriend Carl (CaaAAAaaarl! That hurts people!) and really needed something to cheer him up. So when an old high-school friend called to invite him over for a game night, he made his way to Gary's place in West Didsbury, where he got tricked into taking over as the Dice Bearer. The dice changed hands and SG felt it as the ownership transferred to him.

SG was much smarter about rolling that Gary had been. Just like a certain violinist before him, he figured out that he needn't be the one to pay the price for the fortune his cursed object brought him. And he figured out the system (or so he thought. He should have remembered that the House always wins, in the end). He started passing the bad-luck-rolls to random strangers on the street.

After a time, he started to also let strangers roll high. And then… well, for someone who had the gall to talk shit about D&D, SG turned out to be SUCH a nerd himself. He assembled a whole-ass Grim Dicer costume, grew a goatee, he was even doing the voice! Go you, Mr. Totally-not-a-theatre-kid! Rock that Dice King persona!

He was well on his way to becoming a full blown urban cryptid, when alas, he went too far. By chance (chance?) he run into Gary and made him (made him?) roll one last time. It was the lowest roll yet. Snake eyes. 1+1. You couldn't go lower if you tried.

It seems that the Dice did not appreciate being disposed of, and they disposed of the previous Bearer in return, with extreme prejudice, via runaway truck to the face.

After that, SG lost his nerve and tried to get rid of the Dice which… Buddy. You've just seen how that ends. What did you think would happen?

SG thought he was being smart. He gave the Dice to Magnus Institute, who, as paranormal research facility (or whatever they were known as), were bound to accept them and presumably able to handle them safely.

Too bad he believed that rolling was a matter of choice*. Too bad the Dice were still within reach when the urge hit. Too bad he died right there, at the statement giving table. RIP, statement giver (????-14.10.1998). You could have been great.

So that's that. What more to say? Let's see.

I feel quite confident in saying that SG was actively becoming a supernatural creature. That feeling of increasing disconnect from the world was not just in his head. And the rolls that he took for himself, that kept getting more and more abstract, until he couldn't tell what changed, just that something did? It was you, SG. You were changing. Such a damn shame your rise to power was cut short by your own folly.

I'm equally confident that he was unwittingly creating a brand new urban legend. I bet that at the time there were people in Manchester who'd talk in hushed whisper (or at high volume in a crowded bar) about the Grim Gambler, the Dice Devil, the Lord Luck, the Horrid Hatman. (Coincidentally, for no reason whatsoever I need somebody to draw SG in full Mr. Die costume with Alex J. Newall's face). Some would warn against touching his dice, others would swear up and down that he'd bring luck and prosperity. (Imagine the discourse at cryptid message boards!). I wonder if the legend still lives, even if SG doesn't.

*About rolling the dice, even knowing the odds… It sure as hell wasn't free choice, no sir. What was it then, compulsion, or addiction? Was that need to see the dice clutter over one's future coming from without, or within? Both options are equally appealing to me, to be honest.

The statement and the Dice were given to MI in October 1998. This means two things: a) Arguably, events surrounding death of SG could have been one of the 'weird stuff' that Sam saw with no context as a child, and: b) The Institute burned down little over a year later. Do you think somebody was rolling the Dice bit too much?

'Recommend referral to Catalytics for Enrichment Applicability Assessment'. To me it sounds like: "hey, Catalytics, check if we can use this thing for enrichment." And I'm having a bad thought. They were studying kids, Sam among them, for some purpose, almost certainly related to supernatural stuff. Did they give the kids cursed artefacts to play with, to boost development of their otherworldly skills/trait/whatever? Because if so, so help me… 🔪🔪🔪🔥🔥🔥

Lastly, for completion's sake: viability as subject (none), agent (low), catalyst (medium). I've no idea nor theories what these are about, I'm just leaving them here for future reference.

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp case files #tmagp case 09.01 #tmagp 09 #ep. written by Jonathan Sims & Alexander J. Newall #ep. written by J.S.+A.J.N #Dice! #Dice of Fate #Mr. Die #Grim Dicer #Dice Bearer #Dice King #Hatman #Grim Gambler #Dice Devil #Lord Luck #Horrid Hatman #Lucky-go-Happy #Shout out to @char-lie-spirals for coming up with “Mr. Die” nickname for the statement giver.

[retr0things]

Hey Byler artists, this is for you

And I gotta get this out of my chest…

I’ve been an ST fan since s2 but never interacted with the fandom until 6 months ago. I was actually so scared to do it, because I once was looking at Byler fanart on Pinterest, and stumbled upon a post that had this comment saying that they hated when an artist made Will and Mike have tiny noses, and that it didn’t matter the style, they had to represent them accurately. And was surprised by how many people agreed. I must clarify that I found this type of comments on Tik Tok and YouTube too, so I was like- “oh, so everyone must think the same” but now I know better.

Personally, I have an anime-ish style, and you know that it’s normal to make a simple dot of the noses. Not because you don’t like big noses or something, but because it’s simply an stylistic choice.

I remember my hands shaking the first time I posted for #bylerweek2023 but was really surprised at how many people really liked my drawing, so I finished my first ever Will drawing and posted it too (which is the one I have for my profile photo) and have been receiving really nice comments ever since.

I’m not saying that you shouldn’t take important features into consideration. I’ve seen amazing byler artwork in here and it’s just so so so beautiful when I can see the diversity in the characters, BUT, if your style it’s just very minimalistic or simple, or you are just simply not on that stage of confidence to draw certain features but you want to be, then please don’t worry. It’s ok, you’re still learning, we all are.

So, all I wanna say is, byler artists, don’t be scared to publish your art and express yourself, I promise there’s people out there that will appreciate what you do and will actually love it. If you’re hesitating in pressing that post button right now, don’t worry, come back later when you feel confident, but keep in mind that your art is probably gonna make someone’s day.

#byler #bylerweek2023 #byler fanart

[pecanwriter]

Very Uncool Love Story (MPREG, WG story)

Themes: M/M MPREG romance between a fat librarian and a disabled punk musician

Words: 2863

Part: 1/?

Connected to this drawing, although we're a long way away from this happening!

Larry let out a groan, dropping his hands helplessly at his sides. He stared down at his protruding gut accusingly. No matter how often he attended the gym or watched what he ate, ever since he turned thirty-five his waistline seemed to be expanding simply from his existence alone. In the last two years since he crossed the thirty-five threshold, his so-called waist had positively turned into a pot belly. Okay, he had to be honest with himself, since Cyberpunk 2077 came out he neglected his gym attendance and it definitely contributed to the further expansion of his blubber. And so now, to his dismay, his good dress trousers didn’t fit anymore. He let out another groan, realising that he had no choice but to go to one of the places every self-proclaimed nerd hated more than anything; the shopping centre. The worst part was that since the birthday party for his brother-in-law was happening at six, he had no time to procrastinate.

Squirting some toothpaste onto his brush he looked at himself in the mirror and grimaced. The beard he attempted to grow in order to hide his slowly forming double chin was coming in more patchy than he would’ve liked, but on the bright side, he was surprised to discover there was still more ash blonde in his beard than grey, unlike the hair on his head. Larry was mildly annoyed that he was genetically cursed both with a pot belly and premature greyness. He started getting grey in his mid-twenties, which was the beginning of the end he did not anticipate in time to start dyeing his hair to cover it up. Now, after so many years, it would just look stupid. And so Larry didn’t have much choice but to embrace the image of a grey-haired, fat librarian. He supposed it could’ve been worse, although at that moment he struggled to think how.

“Okay, Marshall, you can do this,” Larry muttered to himself, staring into his own green eyes in the rearview mirror for a moment. Gathering as much strength as he could, he finally got out his car where it was parked in the shopping centre parking lot.

Why are there so many people in the shopping centres at all times? How is that possible? Larry flinched as someone barged past him, laughing on the phone obnoxiously loudly. One of the best aspects of working at the library was that it was always blessedly quiet. Not only that, he was allowed to actually shush people! And they couldn’t do anything about it! Another person shouldered past him, nearly knocking his glasses off his nose. Fixing them in place Larry dived towards the shopping centre map to find the cheapest clothing store possible; he wasn’t about to spend a fortune on something his fat ass would undoubtedly outgrow soon. Besides, the less money spent on clothes, the more money for him to invest in video games.

“Can I help you?” A shopping assistant asked with one of those smiles that could have been real or completely fake and there was no way to tell which.

“I’m looking for dress trousers,” Larry answered, instantly nervous under the scrutiny of the younger man.

“Let me see if we can find something in your size.” He said, and Larry involuntarily flinched.

After an ordeal longer than he would’ve liked Larry emerged from the shop exhausted, but with a new pair of trousers with a size tag he never expected to be searching for. That’s what ageing does to you, he guessed. Ageing and Cyberpunk 2077, he reminded himself sourly. He almost jumped out of his skin as buzzing in his pocket tore him out of his revelry.

“Yes?” “Larry, tell me you remember about Tom’s birthday party.” His sister said. “I remember!” “Don’t you lie to me, brother!”

“I’m not lying!” He sputtered “I even got a new outfit for the party.” “Wow, I’m impressed. Did you get a gift?” “Uh…” “Lawrence Marshall!” She groaned.

“I will get one!” “He was talking about one of those new heavy metal albums he wanted. I don’t remember which band it was… Slayer? Judas Priest? I really don’t remember, but it came out this month, go to the CD store and ask someone!” “Ask someone…? A CD…? Arianna, wait…!” He let out a sigh as the phone indicated the call was ended by the caller.

Once again, feeling even more defeated than he did when he first came into the shopping centre, he went to look for the map to find a CD store in this monstrosity.

Larry took in a deep breath as he stared at the black sign that read “Music Emporium” in an aggressively pointy font and with burning wings on each side of it. That was a bit of an overkill, wasn’t it? Wings and fire? Couldn’t it just be one or the other? Taking a deep breath Larry entered the store.

There was some classic rock playing inside, but thankfully it wasn’t too loud. The shop was rather dim, in fact, it was positively dark and Larry wondered how anyone could see what they were buying. There was nobody inside and Larry was very thankful because never before had he been so painfully aware of being, and looking, like a librarian.

When he meant the shop was empty, he didn’t only mean customers, there was literally no one there. He assumed the shop clerk was somewhere around, maybe restocking something, or maybe they were in the back. But he wasn’t about to call out, God no. He wandered around nervously and when he spotted a sign shouting “NEW RELEASES” in big orange letters he almost flew to it, hoping he would be able to find the CD on his own and buy it without ever revealing to the shop clerk how out of his depth he actually was. He looked at the rows of different CDs and felt immediately lost. How was he supposed to find a CD without knowing anything about it other than the release month? When people asked him for books they didn’t remember the titles of he had so many ways to narrow the search down. Keywords, genre, plot, similar books… How did you search for a CD? He guessed you could sing something from it, but if it was a completely new one then you wouldn’t even know any songs from it, would you? “Why didn’t you call for me?” An unfamiliar voice with a heavy Scottish accent accused and Larry was startled enough to drop the CD he was holding. “Great, that’s amazing.” The man spat, placing something against one of the shelves to go down to the floor. Larry realised it was a crutch. “No, no, I got it!” Larry frantically dropped to the floor, picking up the CD. “You’re…” He started, but the man cut him off. “What? A cripple? Yeah, man, cripples can be music experts too, crazy, huh?” “No, I wanted to say that you’re the shop clerk,” He awkwardly held the CD out to the man “Here, it’s not broken.” “Hm.” The man humphed, taking the CD from him and bringing it closer to his right eye to examine it. That was an unusual thing to do, but Larry immediately recognized the movement. The man either had limited vision or could only see out of one eye. Larry stopped to look at the man as he examined the CD. He was younger than him, maybe late twenties, maybe younger. He was very very light-skinned, almost translucent and his hair was pure white too, shaved on the sides and the short part in the middle was brushed back on gel or something similar. The effect was slightly messy, but Larry was sure it was a very carefully curated look. His ears were gleaming with a multitude of piercings and he was wearing make-up, namely black coal around his eyes and dark, shiny lipstick… Larry couldn’t help but keep examining this man, finding the complicated outfit somewhat fascinating and, once again, vaguely reminiscent of Cyberpunk 2077. He had a necklace with a guitar pick woven into it and was wearing a ragged black tank top that was incredibly snug, showing off a large portion of his abdomen. A very, very flat abdomen, Larry couldn’t help but notice. The man was very slim, positively skinny. His hip bones were sticking out where the denim rested on them and he could see a tattoo peeking out on the side. It wasn’t the only one, in fact, both of his arms were covered and one of the tattoos was expanding to his chest, disappearing under the tank top. Even for an omega, he was extraordinarily handsome. A little sharp around the edges, perhaps, but gorgeous.

“It doesn’t seem broken, lucky you.” The man said in his clear voice, placing the CD down in its place perfectly. “So what do you need?” “I… I’m not sure.” “Browsing then?” “Not exactly, I…” “Yeah?” “I’m looking for a gift, I don’t really know a lot about heavy metal…” “Oh boy.” The man rolled his eyes and Larry was almost sure the left one didn’t roll exactly along the same trajectory as the right. “I’m sorry, it’s for my brother-in-law and…” “Fine, fine, whatever. So do you know the band?” “Not exactly…” “What does that mean?” The man cocked an eyebrow. He was very, very attractive, Larry’s unhelpful mind provided, and he had to resist the urge to facepalm.

“It’s either… Slayer or Judas Priest.” Larry soldiered on despite the man’s lips pursing “It came out this month!” The incredibly attractive shop clerk sighed and then reached for a CD, planting it in Larry’s chest. Larry was unsure if he was planning to do that or if he wanted to hand it to him but misjudged the distance between them.

“Here, Slayer. Judas Priest doesn’t have any new albums.”

“T-thank you.” he managed to say, uncomfortably aware that this very attractive, very skinny and very cool man just accidentally touched his flabby, uncool, librarian chest.

"Let me ring you up then. Unless you wanted something else…?"

"Oh no, nothing else!" Larry said urgently and the man laughed a ringing, beautiful laugh.

Larry blushed violently. What was wrong with him? Feeling his face burning, Larry followed the cleck to the till, observing the man’s careful gait as he leaned heavily on his crutch, but in a practised manner that suggested it was either a long-term or a permanent injury.

"Thank you for your business." The man said and with a slight smirk he added "We hope you will visit Music Emporium again soon!"

"I will." He said reflexively, flinching at the obvious lie and hoping the darkness of the shop concealed his blush.

The man laughed his beautiful ringing laugh again and Larry felt like he still heard it even after driving away to face the birthday party.

*

"Hey, little brother." Arianna wrapped her arms around his neck and then backed away slightly to touch his face. Her face was bright with a smile and her eyes gleamed with it. Unlike the shop clerk's, both of Arianna's unseeing eyes moved completely normally. Larry frowned. Why was he thinking about that omega again? “When will you shave this ridiculous beard?” Arianna asked, frowning.

“I’m not! I like it!” He lied, trying to disentangle himself from his sister’s arms. “Hey, uncle!” Jonas ran into him, jumping excitedly. “Hello, nephew!” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Here.” He pulled out a library book, handing it to the boy who “ooh”-ed excitedly. “Dinosaurs? I’m gonna go read it!” He said, already running off “Thanks, uncle!” “Miriam, say hello to your uncle!” Arianna hissed at her daughter, who was just passing through the hall, her 17-year-old angst on full display in her band T-shirt, ragged jeans and messy hair covering half of her face.

“Hey uncle.” she deadpanned, not even looking up. “God, give me strength,” Arianna muttered. “Okay, I have to finish some stuff in the kitchen, go join the party!” Larry did so, like the obedient younger brother he was.

“You have got to be kidding me, Samuel! Over my dead fucking body! You are a child!” Tom shouted at his oldest son as Larry’s mother and Tom's parents sat uncomfortably in their seats. Sam’s boyfriend Aarul was holding his hand tightly, but flinching at every word Tom shouted at his son. Tom’s sister Moira and her husband Mark kept whispering to each other. From what Larry knew about them he assumed Mark was trying to keep Moira from interrupting.

“I’m not a child, I’m 23 years old, father!” Sam protested “I’m graduating this year, I will get a full-time job then and…” “You’re too young for this!” “Tom!” Moira finally managed to get out from under Mark’s calming spell. “You’re wife is 46 years old. According to, you know, the undeniable logic of math, she gave birth to this here child when she was 23.” “I don’t care, it was a different time!” “Stop shouting, let him live his life, he’s a smart boy.” Tom’s father, Jon, said, waving a hand at him. “What’s happening here?” Larry asked and everyone’s head snapped to look at him. “Larry!” They all exclaimed in a greeting. “You’re nephew is getting married!” Moira exclaimed. “Oh yeah? That’s great, Sam. Aarul.” Larry smiled, squeezing both of the boy’s shoulders and then taking a seat.

“No, Larry, it’s not GREAT.” Tom, the birthday boy, hissed, his thin narrow face twisted in anger. “He’s too young!” “And Aarul is pregnant.” Moira added in a theatrical whisper, which set the table to shouting again as Larry flinched, glad the attention was once again redirected from him. He looked at Sam. He, unfortunately, took a lot after the Marshall side of the family; ash blonde hair, very average-looking face, which couldn’t be called handsome even when he had youth working for him. He was slim and muscular, but from experience, Larry knew that was not going to last forever either. Sam gave him a small smile when he caught his eye. Larry looked at Aarul in turn; he was petite, with dark hair and skin of a South Indian, his thick black hair curled framing his heart-shaped face. He looked at Larry shyly with his big, brown eyes and smiled gently after lowering his eyes to the table again. Aarul was a lovely boy, he made Sam happy and Larry knew him to be hard-working and considerate. Sam was responsible and determined and never tried to hide the fact he thought of Aarul as his one and only. Larry truly didn’t see a problem, they were old enough to make decisions like this and as Moira already pointed out - Arianna and Tom had children and married even earlier than these two.

“Stop it this instant!” Arianna called from the door, holding the cake in front of her as Miriam trailed after her, making sure her blind mother didn’t trip with the cake but also at the same time somehow still managing to text. “Leave the boys alone.” “Arianna…” Tom growled, but his wife totted. “No, stop it, I said. This is a birthday party and there will be no more arguing.” She proclaimed and everyone dutifully kept their mouths shut.

“Good cake.” Mark observed as they were all eating, still in silence that was almost as thick as the cream on the cake. “Who wants more, this cake needs to be gone today, or it will get soggy!” Arianna announced, cutting the rest of the cake up with deliberate, learned motions that once again reminded Larry of the music shop clerk. “So, any takers? Moira? Larry?” “Don’t feed him cake, he’s fat enough!” his mother snapped. “You gained weight again, Larry.” she accused. “Mum, leave him alone!” Arianna hissed. “You’re no better, lady.” his mother snapped, looking critically at Arianna’s ample hips.

“Can we all just stop insulting each other for five minutes?” Tom’s father hissed. “Some of us would like to ENJOY spending time with our family.” “Let’s open gifts!” Jonas said, bouncing in his seat, completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere around him. “Dad, open your gifts!”

With his face still twisted in a vague image of displeasure, Tom obliged, reaching for the small pile of gifts. “Thanks, Dad,” Tom said, raising the bottle of whiskey in acknowledgement as his father nodded. “Fishbait? Because…?” Tom looked at his sister. “Because old men love to fish.” The woman proclaimed with a serious face and then burst out laughing. “Great. Thanks.” Tom rolled his eyes, putting the fish bait waiting and reaching for Larry’s gift. “A Slayer CD…” Tom pursed his lips. “Oh no, it’s the wrong CD,” Larry said feeling the blush blooming on his face again and praying the beard covered it. “No, it’s a good CD!” Tom rushed to explain “Only… I already own this.” He grimaced. So did Larry. “Dang. I’m sorry, I will exchange it for something else.” “Thanks, Larry.” “No problem..” Larry murmured, surprised to realise he was actually excited to go back to that music store. What the hell was wrong with him?

#bhm #chubby boy #mpreg #mpregnancy #mpreg fiction #bhm fiction #mpreg writing