#I can be very inarticulate sometimes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

todayisafridaynight · 11 months

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YEAH........... YEAH..... LIKEWISE, NO NOTES AT ALL, THAT'S EXACTLY IT... Main antagonist deaths are often treated as "comeuppance," but that would be the ultimate comeuppance for Aoki. As it stands, the only people who actually suffer for it are Ichiban and Jo, and Ichi didn't even do anything wrong. Also please I'm positive there's more to wring out of Aoki and Jo for an essay 😭😭at the very least, I always love to hear your perspective!

"he'd made a social circle for himself where people predominantly liked him for the power and influence" <- incredibly Mine-core of Aoki btw (I also feel the rest applies a little in terms of Mine probably being very quick to write off people who Do care about him as not caring about him, as with Katase, but it's nowhere near the extent of the Arakawas)

Wait actually it's kind of funny... for both Mine and Aoki, I was so sure their endings would go a certain way. Mine and Kiryu'd fight Richardson off together and Ichi'd, I don't know, shield Aoki or hug him so Kume couldn't get to him in the first place, or after that INSANE direct parallel to Arakawa running to the hospital with Masato, he'd miraculously pull through like he did on New Year's. Tormented with visions of the better timeline... With Aoki in particular, it makes me want to tear my hair out because the moment of him choosing to put the gun in the locker was REVOLUTIONARY for the series, looking at the characters he was most heavily based on.

Anyway. Bottom line. These bitches need to hug it out. It was so evil Arakawa didn't hug Ichi at Omi HQ or on the waterfront like bro stop being """manly""" for five seconds you're ruining my life you're ruining your own lives

There'd genuinely be nothing more painful yet more satisfying for an antagonist than being confronted with the consequences of their actions and having to navigate life after having making those decisions, ESPECIALLY when it comes to mending the bonds that- for anyone else- would have shattered long ago. With Aoki being motivated by the want to be loved and appreciated for himself, it would've been nice to see him finally acknowledge that he did have that love and start to better himself as a result (however much he'd be able to while in prison anyway lmao).

The Mine and Aoki comparisons are so real though, I remember joking to myself about it days after beating the game but it just fuels my mental illness every time I think about it ☠️ I LEGALLY AM NOT ALLOWED TO GO OFF ABOUT THE Y7 ENDING I'VE DONE IT TOO MUCH it makes me so mad every time I think about it 😭 ESPECIALLY THE PARALLELS WITH ARAKAWA AND THE LOCKERS UGGGHHH IT COULD HAVE BEEN SUCH AN EPIC CONCLUSION WITH THAT... Arakawa running from the lockers at the start of Aoki's life compared to Ichiban running from the lockers and getting Aoki to the hospital so Aoki can restart life I'm Going To Kill Someone (myself) (in Minecraft)

#snap chats #theres a note here about aoki's self hatred and ergo his inability to believe people could love him without 'worth'#and some kind of. I Dont Know occurs that comes with aoki accepting that love and ergo At Least Tolerating himself #and again becoming better as a person as a result. not WHOLLY you cant undo Everything Wrong With Him with one therapy session #but itd at least be a start and thats far more than anything else rgg has given since like. ryuji in dead souls #but w/e i- as per usual- have the vocabulary of a walrus so we're just gonna have to imagine i said something profound #AND THE LACK OF HUGGING IN THIS FRANCHISE IM GOING TO STAB ALL OF YOU. IN MINECRAFT.#with the power of delusions and this like seven-year-old wacom tablet i can fix that......#it'll never be enough it'll never fill the void in my soul but it'll be something i guess #BUT UGH NO SORRY IM JUST MAD NOW #nothing in my life has ever genuinely triggered anger in me than the y7 ending its just soooooooOOOOO #IT WAS SOOO CLOSE TO BEING PERFECT I CANT #im going to give myself a blood clot thinking about it anymore i feel my heart stopping Do Not Call An Ambulance I Cannot Afford It #so to stop myself from going in any more debt than i already am..... the possibility of any essays from me are very small #my ability to use words is near non existent. i feel like a right ninny sometimes #in any case im not sure what else i could expand on that isn't restating what you've said #cant ever be upset with bein on the same wavelength tho it gives my inarticulate ass a helluva easier time trying to explain LMAO #plus im petrified of trying to interpret anything from the english dub or english subs #and looking into language use is Very Much important when dissecting abusive relationships #i guess there's always just talking about general actions committed and not inspecting the exact words used #idk.. at the very least ill rotate the concept in my head and then fend off the urge to eat my teeth #i'm gonna throw up.... im still thinking of it........ gonna make an unrelated-but-arguably-related post in like three seconds #dont look at it its cringe

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missmonsters2 · 1 year

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—ADRONITIS | One

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Wednesday's quite aware she has no people skills, but that doesn't stop her from wondering why she can't know everything about one person immediately.

Warnings: None.

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Count: 1.9k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Adronitis: noun. The frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Everyone who knows Wednesday can confidently say she's not a people person, and even Wednesday herself can tell you she's not. People are strange, annoying, emotional creatures that she's fairly certain she lacks a particular trait to handle.

Of course, some individuals have unfortunately made it past her prickly walls. Her roommate and begrudgingly best friend, Enid, can be tolerated in longer spurts. Eugene is just another Pugsley, so she has to look after him. She supposes Xavier isn't dreadful to deal with. Now.

Would Wednesday commit first-degree murder for them? Yes, but that's not the point.

The point—what was the point?

Wednesday internally huffs with annoyance. She's an articulate person, but lately, she isn't.

Reluctantly, Wednesday's eyes trail to the side, where she sees her reason for inarticulation.

"Ah, so this is why you're sitting in the courtyard today," Enid smiles innocently, but Wednesday can see the knowing look in her eyes and purses her lips in a scowl as her eyes return to her book. She's finally gotten her hands on Goody's spellbook, and she's been trying to finish reading it for weeks.

But alas...she's been...distracted.

"I don't blame you," Enid sighs as she looks over to where Wednesday was just gazing. "Everyone's looking at our resident Faerie. I wish she'd sit at our table today."

Wednesday silently agrees but tells herself she didn't. But she did. It's been nearly a week since you've sat with their tiny group of weirdos. Heroes, but weirdos.

Today, you're sitting with the fangs, and Wednesday just can't fathom why. She gets your little rotation schedule, but vampires were so overrated, and from the small conversations she's heard here and there—incredibly boring.

Who cares about their diet? Wednesday thinks they lack innovation if their only choices are humans or animals (because, quite frankly, another outcast could kick their ass).

Yet, you sit there, smiling serenely and nodding with genuine interest. You ask questions and laugh at their witless jokes, and it drives Wednesday crazy.

Wednesday doesn't understand your sense of humor. Although, no one understands Wednesday's sense of humor either. That's usually the pattern. Sometimes, it feels like you and she are two sides of the same coin.

You're both very different at Nevermore. While you're both outcasts within the outcasts, it's not the same. Whereas Wednesday didn't understand people, and they didn't gravitate toward her, people seemed to argue for your time.

Hence, why you sat at a different lunch table every day.

Wednesday's mind drifts as she frowns. There's little known about Faeries as they're usually recluses, and there are so few of them. Especially night faeries.

But now, it makes her wonder. Are Faeries like sirens? Do they lure everyone in their proximity without choice? That would certainly make more sense on Wednesday, and it would explain her recent behavior.

Wednesday frowns deeper. Principal Weems has already sternly told others that while the Faeries are extremely beautiful and charming, they have no such powers.

So, Wednesday was at a loss. She was beginning to think this school was designed to be the bane of her existence. Unwillingly, her gaze drifted again, but this time, you turned your head simultaneously and caught her eye.

You smile soft and sincere but unobtrusively at her, and Wednesday looks away, her face impassive.

It wasn't unusual.

This was exactly how all her interactions with you went. Very often, no words are exchanged, but you smile and wave at her as you pass by in the hallways. You greet her warmly when you sit at their table or in class.

"Your unhappy face is showing," Enid points out, a slight upward quirk on her lips as she bites into her sandwich.

"This is always my face," Wednesday deadpans.

"No, it's not," Enid shakes her head confidently. If there's one thing Enid can say, she stares at Wednesday a lot, so she knows her roommate very well. "You tilt your chin down and glare through your eyebrows more than look through them. It's very protruding," Enid points directly at Wednesday's eyebrow and forehead. "See? Unhappy face."

Xavier is looking at her through his apple, using it to shield how he's holding back his laughter as he grins at her.

Wednesday relaxes her brows, her eyes becoming less narrow before she raises her brow at Enid. "Then what face is this?" The werewolf ponders her roommate's face and then sighs like she's been chastised.

"General distaste," Enid mutters, but then she brightens as she looks up. "Oh, Fae is coming over here!"

"Why do you insist on calling her that when she has a name?" Wednesday asks. You never seem mad about it, and it's not like Wednesday would care if people walked around calling her witch instead of Wednesday, but it's another thing she doesn't understand.

"Hm," Enid hums. "I guess it just became a nickname when she came. I mean, I guess it's kind of weird to call someone by their creature name...should we try to come up with a new one for her?"

"Whatcha guys talking about?" You smile as you approach. You've got a grape lollipop in your mouth given to you by one of the shapeshifters. Xavier and Eugene move over so you can sit down, directly facing Wednesday. "Hi, Wednesday," you say her name so casually, staring at her until Wednesday nods in acknowledgment.

She's tense as she grips the edge of her book tightly. Her eyes are steadfastly attached to the pages even if she's not reading them.

"We're talking about how everyone started to call you Fae," Enid grins, her smile wide and excited, but then frowns. "I hope it doesn't bother you."

You hum for a long moment, a sound that Wednesday hangs onto. She can see you through her peripherals. You seem in deep thought, and Wednesday can't understand why it's taking you so long to decide whether it bothers you. She wants to tell you to hurry it up so she—they can have the answer.

"I supposed it started when one of the psychics saw me in person, and all he could stutter out was 'Fae' over and over," you shrug.

"Feeble-minded," Wednesday mutters, and you smirk at her, and now she's wondering what exactly that could mean.

"It doesn't bother me," you continue on. "I mean, I guess it's fine since there are no other faeries at the school, but it might be confusing when there are. I can't exactly go around calling on a person wolfy when that could be any of the werewolves here."

They all nod, except Wednesday.

"We should try to find a new nickname for you!" Eugene exclaims, emboldened by your friendliness to him. "How about nightcrawler!"

"As enchanting as that is, I'm going to have to veto that one," you give him a wry smile. He slumps in defeat while Xavier gives in a pat on the back.

"Oh," Enid squeals excitedly, and Wednesday shirk and winces at the sound. "We could all try to find a new nickname for you until we get the right one!"

"And why should we if Fae says it doesn't bother her?" Xavier asks as he turns over and gives you what Wednesday believes he thinks is a boyish smile.

"Spoken like a true simpleton," Wednesday cut in, still not looking up. "Will that be your new nickname?"

"Ouch," Xavier laughs, the insult falling off his back. Although, he doesn't doubt that's his contact name on Wednesday's phone. "Alright, I get it. Fine, the person who gets their nickname chosen gets Fae's number. How's that?" He looks over to you, and Wednesday snaps her head up, finally to look at you too.

You seem pensive. Another thing Wednesday knows but doesn't understand. It's getting irritating with how many things are adding up that Wednesday wants to know now and can't.

Nobody in the school has your number though they all see you on your phone as you stroll down the hallway. Wednesday has heard you turning people down when they ask for your number, citing how there've been too many requests, and the number of texts or calls you'd get would be too overwhelming. So, now it's been an unspoken rule between the school that no one gets your number if they cannot all have it.

You peer over at Wednesday, and she doesn't flinch away from your gaze. She refuses to lose whatever staring game you've created.

"Okay," you acquiesce, staring at Wednesday for a moment longer before standing up. "I'll see you guys in class. I'm going to see if the shapeshifters have more grape lollipops. They're my favorite."

Grape lollipops are your favorite. Is it just the lollipop, or is it grape in general?

"Well, this should be fun," Enid bounces her seat before she looks at Eugene. "I'm going to have to say it's looking unlikely for you, bud."

"I have more ideas!" Eugene protests.

"Never accept defeat," Wednesday looks back at her book, inwardly frowning when she's still on the same page she's been trying to read for the last 20 minutes. "Would be an acceptable suggestion for me. Accept defeat in this case, Eugene."

There's more bickering at the table while Enid bumps her shoulder against Wednesday. "So? Are you going to try to come up with something and get Fae's number?"

"No, it's a trivial matter. Why would I want it? The only time I ever use my phone is when you've dragged me into your 24/7 addiction and Xavier cries for my attention."

"I do NOT cry—"

"So, I have no need for it."

Plus, would you expect her to text you if she had your number? Would she even want to text you? Wednesday supposes it'd be an equal trade of information, so you'd have her number too. Should she expect you to text her?

Wednesday glances in her peripheral and sees you with another lollipop as you sit with the shapeshifters. You've got an apple in your hand, but you look at it blandly.

Not a fan of apples, then?

Wednesday feels annoyance gnaw at her insides. It's not irregular for Wednesday to sometimes show interest in others. Knowing others is valuable information that can be used at a later date.

But why in the hell does it take so long to get to know someone? Why can't Wednesday just know all your deep, dark secrets first and then make her way out to the trivial things?

"What a shame," Enid sighs casually, looking straight ahead, but her eyes tilt to the side to stare at her gloomy roommate. "I think having a phone and texting is great! It's way faster to get to know someone over text since you can always be in communication. You know what else is a thing? At 2AM, people lower their guard down, and they're more likely to spill secrets."

Wednesday slams her book shut, standing up and leaving briskly.

Research is needed. Her father has few skills, but one of them is coming up with nicknames. That skill should undoubtedly pass on to her.

Wednesday glances at you as she walks out of the courtyard. You look over at her and smile with a wave before turning back to your conversation.

Defeat is not in Wednesday's vocabulary. She will beat the constraints of time and know everything there is to know in haste. There will be victory, and it will be hers.

PART TWO

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x ofc #wednesday x ofc #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #mm: my fics

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stories-and-chaos · 2 months

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Shrike: Slices of Life

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable. Something a bit different, some silly snippets that don’t fit into any particular fic]

[Word count: 350]

———

“She’s five feet tall, how can she put away that many whiskeys?”

“Oh this is nothing. You should have seen her during Mardi Gras.”

…

“Makes me wish we survived until Prohibition ended.”

———

“My dear, what in the nine circles is that?”

“Charlie treated everyone to something called ‘boba tea.’ Here, try a sip.”

…

“Well?”

“Where did Charlie acquire this?”

“Oh, if you want one, cher, they’re in the parlor.”

“No. I need to destroy the source of these.”

———

“Okay toots, I know my boss sucks, but you really seem to have it out for him. What’s your beef with Val?”

*inarticulate growling, cursing like a sailor, and destruction of multiple throw pillows*

“Personality differences, got it.”

———

During a manicure session, all the girls snag one of Angel’s hands to do his nails. He ends up with six different colors of polish. He poses to make a rainbow with his fingers every now and then for the following week.

———

Playing eye spy:

“I ssspy with my little eye, sssomething beginning with ‘T’”

“Tits!”

“Table?”

“Tequila.”

“Termites, eheheheee.”

“Noisy picture box.”

“He means television dears. Teacup?”

“Troublemakers, all of you.”

“Ya sure it ain’t tits?”

“…It wasss telephone…”

———

“I’ve always wondered what happens at Overlord meetings. Mom and Dad barely ever get invited and they won’t tell me what goes on.”

“With good reason, cher. We have important work going on that we can’t let all of Hell know about.”

What goes on at Overlord meetings:

*debates if rock-paper-scissors can be played for souls, bickering over a favorite coffee shop at the edge of two territories like a divorced couple sharing custody, regulating how late a pizza delivery can be before you kill the driver.*

“Very important work.”

———

“Charlie dear? I hesitate to mention this, but your handwriting could use some work. It is rather difficult to read the crayon sometimes.”

“Oh, that’d be great! Can you show me your handwriting Y/N?”

“Gladly!” *writes out an introduction in perfect copperplate script* “There you cher.”

“Ummmm, it’s beautiful but…err, I have no idea what it says.”

“Fine, stick with crayon.”

———

Taglist: @whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #asexual #asexual alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty #hazbin vaggie #asexual reader #slice of life #mini fic

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vvluvmai · 9 months

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𝑭𝑺𝑴 ✩ 𝑩𝑹𝑼𝑴𝑶𝑼𝑺

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ(adj.) Of grey skies and winter days, filled with heavy clouds or fog

warn. Fem reader, ooc kaiser?, Fluff, part ii of INARTICULATE

sum. With the match being cancelled due to the rainy weather, why not relax at the balcony after waking up and drinking coffee in the morning with his darling?

char. Micheal Kaiser

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ☃︎⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

6:30 a.m

Buzz.. buzz.. buzz.. rang the digital clock

Waking up one sleepyhead, which is you, groaning and rubbing your eyes. Your hand reached to close the digital clock. You looked at the sleeping figure next to you, smiling fondly as your hand reached its new destination, his cheek. Your thumb rubbed it softly, your face reaching closer, til your lips connected to his slightly open ones, your lips took its own little nap for a few seconds, leaving after it felt satisfied.

Kaiser's eyes slowly opened, blinking a few times to adjust to the dim but too bright lighting. He groaned as you were in the middle of your stretching, the uncomfortable noises of your bones cracking must've woken him up, you thought. "Mm, did I wake you up, love? m sorry, you can sleep tight now, I need to take a shower." You said, getting out the bed. But a hand held your wrist in place, looking back "love let goo I need to take a shower and brush my teeeeth" "it's fine you smell amazing.." playfully huffing in response to his answer, "just come and.. cuddle with me." Your ears perked up, your mouth forming a mischievous and teasing smile "what's that?~ I didn't hear thatt~" "you smell like shit, go take a shower" his hand immediately let go, turning his back to you annoyed. You laughed at his childish yet cute gesture, engulfing him in your hug, wrapping your arms around him tightly as he tried to escape by wiggling out of your warm hug "go take a shower you bloody parasite" he softly yelled out "oh but I thought you said I smelled amazing" his eyebrows furrowed at your emphasis "just cuddle me, I'm cold." You did as told as he lazily made his requests clear. Your hand repeatedly patted his head, putting the tired kaiser to sleep.

You left the bedroom warmed with the love radiating off both of you, shivering as your feet touched the cold hard bathroom tiles. Every other room you stepped into felt cold, longing for your grumpy boyfriend's warm embrace. He woke up only 10 minutes after you did, getting sick of the absence of your presence. Sitting up, he gazed at the window, stained by the rain water. The rain had only calmed down in the morning, raining hard all night long, keeping the sleeping couple company with its calming sounds.

6:45 a.m

He left to bathe, turning on the tap and engaging in another activity til the water in the grand bathtub filled up.

Decorating it with beautiful blue and white rose petals, and sumerging his naked body into the warm emollient water. Sighing and letting his head rest on the near wall, his arms relaxing sitting on top of the bathtub. The bathroom door opened with a creek, opening his eyes, roaming around the room just to find his lover wrapped in a towel approaching him.

"What? Didn't bathe?" He said, scooting over to make room for you "Just thought of joining my oh-so-very-handsome man today"

"Get out"

Chuckling, you said "you're very grumpy in the mornings, ya know"

His chin now rested on your shoulder, arms hugging your waist and his brows furrowed. Unspeaking of your comment. Your hands found its way to his dry hair, playing with it. He hummed softly. The silence in the air was comforting, the couple back to embracing each other, the unwavering rain accompanying them as background music. It felt.. seraphic.

Kaiser was usually gone for most of the day, sometimes even months due to matches and such. And when he is at home, he chooses to relax, or do relaxing things. But you had him all to yourself today, seeing a new side to him yesterday, and today. He was soft, he was himself. He finally felt comfortable sharing all of him with his lover. It was a new chapter to your relationship. A new beginning even.

Shaking out of your trance as your boyfriend's placid humming came to an end "can I use your shampoo" he asked, eyes begging pathetically but face sly as ever. "Of course, only if I get to use yours" light light rose pink coloured his cheeks (he nodded in response), looking away. "Will my oh-so-very-kind wife wash my hair for her very tired husband?~" your eyes widened a bit at the use of his nicknames, now this was new, he had never called himself your husband, nor you his wife. A new tactic of teasing you? "Now that's new, when were we husband and wife" "since yesterday" he spoke, smiling, unphased. "Soo, what do we name our children" Now it was his time to blush "noel noa"

"how about ness"

"absolutely not, don't even think about it"

"Whyy, it's cute?" He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand against his chest

"Cute?! Cute??! Can't believe you find HIS name cuter than your own husband's!" Oh him and his stupid theatrics, but you loved his stupid theatrics.

"Okay okay don't get so butthurt, We will just name it noa" "Now your hurting my heart babyyy" he cried out "what~ , it was your suggestion" you spoke as if it was a question "but I was joking" "and before you say anything else, no, we are not naming our child michael jr" "stop your killing me with your words!" He pushed you away gently, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead, other hand on chest.

7:00 a.m

You sat on the vintage chair, accompanied by an empty chair and a vintage metal table, you stared out blankly, thinking of nothing, but calmly listening to the sounds of the calming rain and patiently waiting for your lover's return. Oh how much you love him, the first thought appeared. Smiling brightly to yourself. You were shaken out of your trance at the hearing of your lover's voice "what must you be smiling so bright about, schatz? Thinking about your handsome boyfriend?" He teased, entering the bedroom with warm cups of coffee on a tray. Playing the tray in the middle of the table, he placed one on your side, taking his, he blew on it gently. "Why are you so.. pretty?" You asked, now looking directly at his face in a dreamy trance. If he were to drink the hot coffee, he would've choked. Pretty, now it was his turn to say "well, that's a new one." He chuckled "God, thank you for giving my such a-" standing up, you cupped his cheeks and pulled him into a tight but passionate and gentle kiss and all the emperor could was sit in shock and simply lean into your kiss. With the breaking of your kiss, he completed your sentence for you, panting for air "blessing? singvogel, know that you are a special blessing for me, God's chosen emperor, as well."

You had now abandoned your seat, instead, making his lap your very own seat "we both are blessings for eachother." You whispered into his chest as his hand ran up and down your back slowly, letting your scent be ingrained to his brain and nose.

The both of you shared this cherished moment silently, knowing that another opportunity like this will only come once in an eon."

𝑡𝑟��𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 —

schatz - treasure

singvogel - songbird

This was completed at 2:47 a.m LMAO

Tags: @kaiserkisser

#micheal kaiser bllk #kaiser #kaiser x reader #micheal kaiser #micheal kaiser x reader #x reader #bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk x reader fluff #micheal kaiser fluff #fluff #rain #coffee

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

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Hi everybody.

So to preface: I've already been told that this is something I shouldn't fret about by a few of my friends, but I'm just a bit worried about it.

AITA for me (16M) making one of my friends (16M) uncomfortable?

I didn't really mean to make him uncomfortable, because I care a lot about this guy. I can go on a whole tirade about how I want to spend my time with him (not romantically or anything). He's a lot more introverted than I am, and a bit less expressive (though in comparison to me, a lot of the time people seem not as expressive as I am).

But I made him uncomfortable because I talked a little bit about how, when I first met him, I didn't think he was cis (we met online). It was because of the online space we were in and the fact that I didn't talk to/meet to a lot of cis people online, and I thought it was a bit funny that I thought that because it wasn't the case. I myself am not cis, which is usually why I find myself mostly involving myself with other trans people.

Though, this comment did make him uncomfortable. I didn't properly explain why I thought this (I didn't explain at all, initially, because I didn't know how to, but after he got uncomfortable I did try to explain). He said that the reason it made him uncomfortable is that he didn't like being put into those sorts of boxes (which isn't what I meant at all, and I didn't want it to seem like that; it was just something I was mostly used to so I made the assumption).

I apologized to him (though I also didn't realize he was uncomfortable when he first said it), and he stated offhandedly that, "this was why he didn't share his interests to people" which made me feel even worse, because I want to be there for him and listen to him talk about his interests.

I didn't know that he was going to be uncomfortable with my comment, nor did I want him to be uncomfortable whatsoever.

After I apologized to him a bit more (I was really nervous, and I felt so guilty about it), he said I didn't need to apologize, and that acknowledging that I made him uncomfortable was all that he needed. I still feel bad about this (I'm not very good at apologizing to people, as I'm a bit inarticulate with these sorts of confrontations). We moved on, and went back to talking to how we usually did, though still.

I also fully acknowledge that I likely shouldn't be making assumptions like that. I've lessened those assumptions a lot, as I had met him awhile ago. Now I pretty much just don't have opinions on other people outside of how they are personality-wise. I do believe I am in the wrong for making the assumption in the first place, and making the joke, but it would be nice for an outside opinion that also aren't my friends (as they may be biased to me not being in the wrong).

(I hope that this was enough information, because sometimes I tend to not be entirely clear/tend to be vague with what it is I am talking about, because I forget people aren't going to be able to know the scope of what it is that is going on.

I'm also not really used to this sort of worry, since I usually don't feel like this about a lot of things. This post may make it seem like I'm a bit of a pushover/over-apologizes? I feel like this is one of the few times I apologized a bit much, really. I just care about him a lot.)

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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burningvelvet · 11 months

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excerpts from lord byron’s letters that read like tumblr posts from the 1800s

(diary version: https://www.tumblr.com/burningvelvet/708562718092836864/random-excerpts-from-lord-byrons-diaries-that)

“We of the craft (poets) are all crazy. Some are affected by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched.”

“Remember me to yourself when drunk. I am not worth a sober thought.”

“Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go, it is useless to inquire. In the midst of myriads of the living & the dead worlds — stars, systems, infinity — why should I be anxious about an atom?”

“I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.”

“I have imbibed such a love for money that I keep some sequins in a drawer to count, and cry over them once a week.”

“I do not believe in any religion. I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.”

“Venice and I agree very well - in the mornings I study Armenian, and in the evenings I go out sometimes - and indulge in coition always.”

“The great object of life is sensation — to feel that we exist, even though in pain. It is this ‘craving void’ which drives us to gaming — to battle — to travel — to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description, whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment.”

“If I could always read I should never feel the want of company.”

“When I am ill or unlucky I philosophize as well as I can.”

“Cant is so much stronger than cunt.”

"I have such a detestation of cant ... that I make myself appear rather worse than better than I am."

“There is something pagan in me that I cannot shake off. In short, I deny nothing, but doubt everything.”

“Letter writing is the only device combining solitude with good company.”

“I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression of excited passion, and that there is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?”

“Why should Queens not be whores? every Whore is a Quean.” [Context: 1. Queen Caroline was being tried for adultery 2. “Quean” was another word for “prostitute”]

“But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.”

“To be perfectly original one should think much and read little, and this is impossible, for one must have read before one has learnt to think.”

“I doubt sometimes whether a quiet and unagitated life would have suited me - yet I sometimes long for it.”

“I think the worst woman that ever existed would have made a man of very passable reputation. They are all better than us, and their faults such as they are must originate with ourselves.”

“I should, many a good day, have blown my brains out, but for the recollection that it would have given pleasure to my mother-in-law.”

“Hate is by far the greatest pleasure; men love in haste, but detest in leisure.”

“Like other parties of the kind, it was first silent, then talky, then argumentative, then disputatious, then unintelligible, then altogethery, then inarticulate, and then drunk.”

“In the last two years I have been at Venice, I have spent about five thousand pounds, and I need not have spent a third of this, had it not been that I have a passion for women which is expensive in its variety every where, but less so in Venice than in other cities.”

“I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long, – I am such a strange mélange of good and evil, that it would be difficult to describe me.”

[on a lover, Margarita Cogni] “I forgot to mention that she was very devout, and would cross herself if she heard the prayer-time strike — sometimes when that ceremony did not appear to be much in unison with what she was then about.”

[on his future wife] “I am quite irresolute — and undecided — if I were sure of myself (not of her) I would go — but I am not — & never can be — and what is still worse I have no judgement — & less common sense than an infant — this is not affected humility…”

“I was the fashion when she first came out; I had the character of being a great rake, and was a great dandy — both of which young ladies like. She married me from vanity, and the hope of reforming and fixing me.”

“I read ‘Glenarvon,’ too, by Caro Lamb — God damn!”

"I have seen three men's heads and a child's foreskin cut off in Italy.”

“What could I do? – a foolish girl – in spite of all I could say or do – would come after me... I could not exactly play the Stoic with a woman who had scrambled 800 miles to unphilosophize me.”

“I have fallen in love, which, next to falling into the canal (which would be of no use, as I can swim), is the best or the worst thing I could do.”

(on the possibility of spies being sent for him during the Greek Revolution) “If these Gentlemen have any undue interest and discover my weak side — viz — a propensity to be governed — and were to set a pretty woman or a clever woman about me — with a turn for political or any other sort of intrigue — why — they would make a fool of me — no very difficult matter probably even without such an intervention. But if I can keep passion — at least that passion — out of the question (which may be the more easy as I left my heart in Italy) they will not weather me with quite so much facility.”

[on a Venetian lover, Marianna Segatti] “I am sure if I put a poniard into the hand of this one, she would plunge it where I told her, — and into me, if I offended her. I like this kind of animal, and am sure that I should have preferred Medea to any woman that ever breathed.”

[in response to a fan letter] “You tell me that you wished to know me better, because you liked my writing. I think you must be aware that a writer is in general very different from his productions, and always disappoints those who expect to find in him qualities more agreeable than those of others; I shall certainly not be lessened in my vanity, as a scribbler, by the reflection that a work of mine has given you pleasure; and, to preserve the impression in its favour, I will not risk your good opinion, by inflicting my acquaintance upon you.”

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hopeforkitten · 6 months

Text

a sketch of how Raphael coos and pays too much attention to a lazy but gifted enchantress

In the form of a blue illusion, the three battlements of the citadel of Zariel rise above the open book. Tav's head and hands lie bored on the Table, lazily looking at the illusion and almost not listening to the voice of the narrator sadly telling about the greatness of the fallen angel.

The door opens and Raphael's voice reaches her.

- I think I told you to just read the book.

He walked up to the table and dispelled the illusion of a fortress. Tav lazily straightened up and finally gave him her attention.

- "A picture is worth a thousand words", and information is better absorbed in graphic form.

- Tell me, what did you remember?

This question somewhat complicated Tav. The last thing she thought about before Raphael's arrival, there were all sorts of winged little hellish creatures that were racing very merrily between the battlements of the flying fortress. This is definitely a valuable thought for Raphael.

Tav looked around guiltily, pursed her lips and returned her gaze to the owner of the house. He sighed in frustration and shook his head.

-What an unreasonable child. The most gifted and ignorant wizard I've ever seen. Magic power can be squeezed out of you, but you don't want to lift a finger to curb it.

Raphael took her hand palm up and a shimmering sphere of magic appeared on it.

- Imagine, my dear, with your talent and a drop of my patronage, you will stand on a par with the greatest sorcerers of our time.

Tav was not at all encouraged by his words.

-How will my knowledge of Averno's history allow me to harness my magic, and how will even the most powerful sorcerer help you take over hell?

- First of all, you will know one of the enemies by sight. Secondly, a powerful sorcerer has at least a chance to move around the expanses and fortresses of hell himself, and not be metaphorically tied to his lord.

- You would be a very caring father.

This comparison did not please Raphael.

- The patron of the most disreputable subordinates

Raphael pressed her hand to the table.

- Little mouse, if you signed a contract and took part of my power, I wouldn't worry that the spark of your potential would be extinguished in another senseless good deed.

- Are you worried about me?"

Tav smiled fearlessly into his face. Raphael snorted to the side and picked up a book from the table.

- The next book should offer you a collection of fairy tales and lullabies for devils. Here she is.

At the behest of his hand, one book went to the shelves of the closet, and the other flew out of them and flew into Tav's bag lying on a chair by the door of the room.

- Are you letting me go?

- You can always leave, a wizard with your power, even as a child, is able to decide which dimension to be in.

Tav stood up, straightened her witchcraft robe, and picked up her battered book bag.

- Let your gifted child do so, and I will use a stable portal in the hall.

Tav was about to leave.

- I hope at our next meeting you will be ready to practice not only reading, but also writing, preferably in blood on parchment paper. What do you think, little mouse?

- Hope, devil.

* strangled inarticulate sounds *

I'm thinking of giving her a collection of fairy tales and lullabies, it's really a brilliant idea from Raphael. (who would doubt) because she will understand the infernal people better, and there it is already possible to move on to more complex matters of history. (as happens during a person's lifetime)

Tav really likes to read this book before going to bed in his tent, and sometimes have nightmares after reading it. The sweet-talking devil actually found an approach to the hapless enchantress, despite the external coldness.

their relationship:

#raphael bg3 #raphael x tav

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lizzieraindrops · 2 months

Text

Liminal - Chapter 3 (1901 words)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Ikora is terrified of losing Eris now that she has become the Hive god of vengeance. The long tension between them has finally been driven to breaking point.

Sometimes the scariest part of good old-fashioned monster-loving isn't the monster. Ikora's emotional dysfunctionality returns with a vengeance (ha) in the morning.

Warmth is the unexpected first greeting of returning consciousness. Ikora runs cool, ever since she had first touched the Void—not uncomfortably, but noticeably. It takes a lot to fluster her, in both temperature and demeanor.

The warmth is another human presence: the gentle heat of skin on hers, a more comfortable resting place than her own bed despite the irregularity of shape.

With a simultaneous flush and chill that catches her between flight and paralysis, Ikora half rolls, half falls off of—Eris. Of course.

Eris snaps to wakefulness with all the alacrity of a Hunter's reflexes. She is relaxing her grip on the hilt of a small knife at the bedside—where had that come from?—almost before Ikora registers that she has moved. Ikora draws back for another reason entirely, coiling herself around her own knees at the foot of the bed. The sheet tangles her legs.

Halfway through levering herself up toward sitting, Eris catches sight of Ikora and ceases movement. Free of their bandage at last, her three green eyes blaze bright in the dimness with only a stray lock of her short, straggly hair to intercept their fire. As ever, wisps of ink drip from her eyes like tears. Their dark tracks trail over round cheeks, returned to soft-skinned vulnerability once more—along with the rest of her. Eris' very human body lies there fearlessly despite the lacework of scars that spreads over every limb. For some reason that makes Ikora feel deeply afraid.

"Ikora. It's me."

It is, and oh, Ikora is overwhelmed by that fact, by her nearness, by her own memory of sharp satisfaction in the way claws had clutched Ikora's body close and by her awareness of deft hands that could do the same. By the way that singular voice as deep and resonant as the ocean itself is close enough to feel.

One supplicating hand extends toward Ikora. She cannot keep herself from flinching. Eris withdraws it and carefully lies back down.

Ikora remains silent. Words stopper her throat like something congealed in the neck of a bottle, leaving her mind to spin within like a trapped squall.

"Ikora?" The softer her voice becomes, the harder Ikora trembles. "I will not hurt you. I am sorry, if I—did I...?"

Ikora shakes her head violently. She has never been more keenly aware that a problem is entirely inside her own head. But she still cannot speak.

The knot between Eris' eyebrows eases somewhat. Only one of her brows has hair: the other's had apparently never regrown from the shiny scarring around her eyes. "That is a relief," she says. "But I would still know what ails you. How may I comfort you? Or rather, may you be comforted without me? Shall I go?"

Ikora presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. Light, but Eris is so unfailingly kind, regardless of her bluntness, despite all the violence and hatred she has weathered; despite Ikora's utter emotional incompetence. Ikora loves her for it, and that is the most terrifying knowledge of all.

Ikora forces herself to meet Eris' eyes over her own curled hands. "Stay. Please," she whispers. "Just. Don't touch me." If she does, Ikora might be devoured by her own inarticulate fear warring with desperate need.

Eris nods and pulls her feet a little further away from her, even though perplexion dominates her face. She studies Ikora with all the clever, relentless perceptiveness that she usually bends toward her life's work. That sharp mind has flayed the immortality from gods. Her scrutiny is as unforgiving as truth itself. Little wonder that Ikora looks away as revelation chases the intensity from her features. Whatever softer thing can subsume that, Ikora is not capable of facing.

"You fear this form more than my morph," Eris says in hushed wonder.

Ikora hides her face in her hands again. She would not have put it so, but neither can she deny it. This is Eris, as she has been the whole time. But at least last night, Ikora had been too preoccupied by the newness and dark splendor of her acolyte form to think about the terrible immensity of the feelings she has so long kept in check. Seeing Eris' familiar form before her now, so brazenly vulnerable, brings to bear the years of aching longing that she had never considered might be answered.

It isn't that she thought Eris did not care for her. She knows, in a million subtle ways she has tried not to dwell upon. She just never thought either of them would find room for each other within the straits of their callings. Eris must pursue the fall of the Hive regardless of the risks. Ikora must defend the Last City, and she will never forego her duty to it as Vanguard. Not like her predecessor.

Ikora had not considered the much more frightening possibility now before her: that Eris might accept her and still continue along a path that might yet lead to self-destruction. That Ikora might lose her after being given the briefest taste of knowing what it meant to have her.

"Perhaps this was untimely. Although I do not regret it," Eris says. She runs a hand through her hair with a sigh. "Ikora," she pleads. "Please speak to me."

Ikora nods. She gathers what scraps of clarity she can. "I don't either. Regret it," she adds in response to Eris' confused look. "But I think...you're right. About timeliness."

Eris smiles sadly. "That has always been our problem, has it not?" She curls comfortably onto her side, leaning against the headboard with her head resting on her hands. "Are we too early, or too late?"

Ikora shifts to a cross-legged position and holds her hands in her lap. "Yes? No?" She gives a short laugh as unsteady as a newborn foal. "I don't know. But this feels like it was always inevitable."

"I know what you mean. Yet I thought I closed the door on this path when I awoke the Harbinger. It seems I was mistaken..."

Ikora's heart goes painfully soft, as if leaning into a blow. She should have told Eris years ago, rather than let her think herself unlovable. But would she have believed her, back then?

"Eris," she begins in a low, quiet voice. "Everything you are is dear to me. Even this—even that part of you. Especially a part of you that brings you clarity, purpose. It's just—" Her voice cracks. "I can't love you the way I want to, the way you should be, not when I'm so scared for you."

Eris lets that sink in. "I understand," she says, tender and mournful all at once. "I do not blame you. But I can do this. I can end what the Hive began. And I must."

"I know." Ikora does not know what will happen. She cannot predict any possibility that will reconcile reality with the cry her heart is making.

Ikora looks around the room while she takes slow, deliberate breaths to steady herself. She takes in details that she had been too distracted to notice before. The quarters are modest, but sizable for a ship. Eris has attired it much like the rest of her temporary wing of the HELM. Deep red hangings soften the sharp industrial corners. Another large shelf of books and strange artifacts cover one wall. How had she chosen what to keep nearest? Below a dim lamp with mica shades, her Ahamkara bone rests in a small stone bowl on the bedside table. A cloth has been cast over it to dull its glare. The bed itself is simple but utterly comfortable; the sheets have the feel of linen worn soft with long use, even if they bear a few new claw-torn tears.

Eris heaves a great sigh, then asks: "What now?"

Ikora lies down at the foot of the bed in a mirror of Eris' position, limbs askew. She is only a meter or so away, yet so far out of reach. "I guess we continue as we were. Mostly. Until...after this." If Eris lives. If they both come through this ordeal still capable of loving each other.

"After," Eris muses. "Very well." Then a wry grin tugs at her lips. "It will be terribly hard, though, now that I know the sound of your heart." Dancing humor laces the earnestness in her voice.

"Eris." Ikora laughs into her hands in embarrassment. "I'll have to give you more Hidden work after all this to keep you busy, otherwise you'll break every heart in the Tower."

Eris chuckles, and it raises chills along Ikora’s arms. "I don't think that will be necessary. After." Her hand curls and uncurls beside her face, as if she were refusing the impulse to breach the gulf that separates them.

The brief shared humor fades like ripples on the water. Soon, only uncertainty and stumbling sorrow remain to echo between them.

"Eris?"

"Yes?"

"Can we just..." This hurts too much to leave so soon. "Can we have today, if nothing else?"

Ikora can see the way Eris tamps down her own hope in the set of her shoulders. She despises herself a little for causing that, but not enough to not ask.

"Would that not only hurt more?" Eris says softly.

"Maybe. But I would rather give you a reason to come back."

Eris holds her stare, lips pressed together in indecision. Ikora curls in on herself with shame at her own presumption.

"Oh, come here, my love," Eris relents. She opens her arms.

Uncoiling, Ikora crosses the distance between them. She only hesitates a moment before tucking herself into Eris' embrace, shaky with nervous relief. She presses her spread hands to Eris' back, along her now smooth but still scarred shoulders. Did the Harbinger's spines erupt individually from the lines of those old wounds? "I'm here," she says, muffled against her. They lie there heart to heart, skin to skin. Even channeling Solar light has never made her feel this blessedly warm.

"Just today," Eris agrees.

"Just today." Ikora draws back just enough to look Eris in the eyes. She caresses her face, brushes her thumb across the unevenness of the scars just above her cheekbone. The prickling ink pools thickest there, but evaporates quickly.

"Don't forget that you are wanted for yourself. Not just for what you can do," Ikora says.

With that she kisses Eris deeply, achingly, searingly. Eris responds like a flower to the sun. The sound of unashamed pleasure that hums in her throat makes Ikora feel more wanted than she has ever been. And in this stolen moment, her want is greater than ever, as well. This time she gives it free rein with premeditated intent. She traces her passion along every curve of Eris' mouth, the arch of her neck, even the tender scarred lids of her eyes. She commits every part of her to memory, from her strong, stout arms to her soft, thick waist to the proud arc of her spine below the troubled skin.

"All of you," Ikora breathes. The hitch in Eris' heartbeat beneath her lips tells her she does not need to explain.

The warmth of skin threatens to destroy her as completely and utterly as the crystalline vacuum of space. But as she sinks into the contact, it soon soothes the part of Ikora that is shivering.

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lemony-snickers · 4 months

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the thing is the thing is the thing is--

i know i am not a good person. ask me, i will tell you.

but it is still so very jarring to have your own ugliness reflected back at you from someone/where else, you know? like being forced to stare into a still pond after avoiding mirrors your whole life.

i don't want to see it. don't want to be reminded of that part of me i keep so carefully tucked away as much as possible. (i am weak and sometimes it slips out and I'M SORRY i'm trying but i cannot rip it out at the root though i have attempted the procedure.)

and i can recognize this grotesqueness so easily in myself and others. can empathize with it even as i stamp my feet and promise i would never - I WOULD NEVER.

but i would and i know it and that fact is inescapable no matter how often or fervently i lie to myself about it.

it's like an unflattering self-portrait has taken on its own life, gripped my face in an ink-stained grasp and screamed LOOK AT ALL YOU ARE AND WILL EVER BE GAZE INTO THE DEPTHS OF ALL YOU HAVE BECOME THROUGH INARTICULATE COMPLACENCY WITH YOUR HISTORY.

easier to stew than to uproot a tree. to simmer in the what is without facing its repercussion. without taking responsibility for the ugly twisted thing that bloomed in its wake (me).

no amount of apologizing can undo a misdeed. the quality of self-reflection does not--can NEVER--erase the mistakes of the fragile, the injured. the ego that cannot let go of the snare which broke it. the only answer to cruelty is the pain of another.

sometimes it feels meaningless to even try (i know it isn't but i cannot let go of the guilt).

#lemony crumbles #hi yes i'm fine don't worry just Thinking Thoughts About Things

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fishech · 1 year

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𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕; 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆: 𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒐 𝑹𝒊𝒄𝒄𝒊

◈𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ◈

< contains mature content, minors dni >

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐲𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝟏𝟎𝟎% 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

On Christmas night, Silvio gave me the best present of all.

Now it is my turn to give the gift that Silvio wants most…

Silvio: "I'll take all of you!"

When he said this, Silvio roughly put his lips on mine and inserted his tongue into my mouth.

As I desperately respond to the kiss that seems to take everything from me, before I know it, the buttons are unbuttoned and my clothes are disheveled.

Emma: "Silvio"

When I call his name between kisses, Silvio pulls away and stares at me. I looked into his sea-colored eyes and saw a burning heat shimmering in them.

(I can feel that Silvio "wants" me.…)

(I'm embarrassed but I want you to have me.)

(I want to repay you for your beautiful gift)

I look back at him and Silvio smiles, tracing my body through my clothes.

Sometimes gentle, sometimes intense, my body begins to tingle with sweetness.

Emma: "........"

I let out an inarticulate breath, wanting to release the heat that was building up inside my body.

But Silvio does not give me any stimulation beyond touching me through my clothes.

Emma: "Silvio?"

(Why?)

When I question him with a glance, Silvio smiles in a funny way.

Silvio: "What's wrong with your face, you're not getting enough?"

Emma: "You are so mean…"

When I turn my face away in shame, Silvio smiles with satisfaction and puts his face to my ear.

Silvio: "It's not that I don't want to take it off. It's a present for me"

Silvio: "I have to start enjoying it from the very beginning when I rip off the wrapping."

Whispering in a seductive voice, Silvio carefully undressed me and then dropped countless kisses on my exposed skin.

Emma: "Ah!"

As my body trembled with the sweet stimulation finally given to me, Silvio looked at me and kissed me

Silvio looked at me and let out a small sigh

Silvio: "--love you."

Emma: "What?"

Before I can finish, he picks me up and takes me straight to the mirror.

Silvio: "You're a present tonight, you know. Look at what yourself"

(……You are really mean! )

I stared at Silvio in the mirror, but all I could see was my own face, which looked like it wanted Silvio's attention.

When I twisted my body in shame, Silvio looked at me through the mirror and traced my skin with the palm of his hand.

Emma: "ah.."

My hips bounced in response, which was embarrassing, and my whole body was burning hot.

(Oh, God! )

Silvio: "You look like you want me. Aren't you cute?"

Silvio says with satisfaction and lays his lips together.

Emma: ".........mn"

The two of us are carried to the bed again as we are tossed into an intense kiss where our tongues entwine with each other.

As soon as I feel myself being submerged in a sea of sheets, Silvio removes his own clothes and covers me with them.

As if to make up for his meanness, he gently lays his body on top of mine.

(I knew Silvio-sama was mean after all…)

Silvio: "Emma ……"

(He is so mean to me, but his voice is too gentle when he calls me like this…….)

(I can't blame him, and above all, it makes me think that I love Silvio from the bottom of my heart.)

(I'm so happy.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Emma: "Silvio, how much stamina do you have?"

I wrap myself in linen and look at him reproachfully, and he smiles at me.

Silvio: "Voyaging is a game of stamina. As I said before, I don't intend to be moderate. You have to train yourself."

As soon as he said that, a kiss fell on my forehead and my heart was wrapped in warmth.

(I'm so simple that this is all it takes to make me happy.)

As I smiled, I suddenly remembered something.

Emma: "By the way, I haven't heard your answer to my question at the party."

Silvio: "What?"

Emma: "Well, what is the most beautiful thing you have seen so far, Silvio?"

Silvio: "……..."

----------flashback----------

(I didn't ask anything strange, did I?)

Emma: "What's wrong?"

Silvio: "Shut up. …. I'll tell you later.

----------end flashback----------

(He said "later", so he will tell me now, right?)

Emma: "What is the most beautiful thing you have seen in your travels around the world?"

Emma: "I'm even more curious now that you've told me about your adventures in person."

Silvio smiles and frowns.

(I can't imagine at all……… Exciting!

Silvio: "It's something from Rhodolite."

Emma: "What! it's from Rhodolite?"

(I can't believe that what the discerning Silvio finds so beautiful is from the country where I was born and raised.)

(I'm so happy…)

Emma: "What is it?"

Emma: "Roses, jewelry, wine ----- or food?"

Silvio's cheeks turn red

Silvio: "-----"

(Huh?)

Silvio: "Of course, it's you, you idiot!"

Emma: "…...."

Emma: "....eh?"

For a moment, I stopped thinking, and I realize the meaning of what was said.

Emma: "Well, you know…"

Emma: "Um, Silvio.."

(What should I do? I'm too happy, I don't know what to say……)

Silvio: "I'll never find anything more beautiful than you, no matter how many times I sail!"

Silvio: "That's why I'll never let go of you."

Silvio whispers and kisses my lips.

(Don't let go)

(I want to be with you forever and ever. I want to be close to my beloved Silvio all the time.)

The first Christmas night in Benitoite was filled with a miraculous happiness.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝟏𝟎𝟎% 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri jp #translation #ikepri silvio #silvio ricci

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memestockpile · 4 months

Text

after anatevka (2017) feel free to change as needed.

i think it's exciting.

i would never be uncharitable to strangers. or judge people at first sight.

that, after all, is the nature of vagrancy.

what did you do before you came here?

when i fall asleep at night, in the moment between sleep and wakefulness, i can feel a kind of crushing panic.

tomorrow might be the day some kind of glory, peace, or freedom arrives. this gives me courage to continue.

you must be cleaned.

one can't help being born.

my dear, be serious.

the course of your life depends entirely on yourself.

you must keep your spirit.

why do bees have sticky hair? because they use honeycombs.

like every gift, it must be used wisely.

find a way or i will find it for you.

i hate you. i really do.

can we not stay like this in this tiny bed for always?

what on earth is the matter?

go to sleep before i squeeze the talk right out of you.

you may not come in. not right now.

bread is life.

my head is sore.

some things take practice. not everything can come easily.

if you peel in long strips and not in little bits, it preserves more of the vegetable.

oh, my darling one, shh, shh--there, there, now.

we have been cut from the same bolt of fabric.

i know you for what you are.

it is so much harder to be the one left behind.

well, i'm not dead yet.

sometimes we must endure.

you are home now.

you are not wanted here. so watch yourself.

your idealism may be your downfall.

i ain't exactly interested in things changing very much.

close your eyes. i made you a gift. it is a surprise.

you are a halfwit.

such a young man. just a boy.

you are capable of anything, my boy.

all men deserve compassion, brotherhood, and respect.

don't get smart with me.

i will not let you down.

even the poor have a right to happiness.

a lovely tablecloth and a handsome centerpiece go such a long way.

come, [name], let me look at you.

you taste sweet.

one has to laugh.

i do not want this. i never did.

i stole it.

i feel stronger and better having told it.

the most important words in a marriage are: you are probably right.

my teeth are rotting in their sockets!

the heart is a muscle. if you make no use of it, it atrophies.

all the young people are using that word nowadays.

i'm afraid i know all too well about that.

soon there will be hope.

i am not in the drinking mood.

how do you know how to hold a woman?

stop getting all flowery.

you are tethered to me.

for all your genius, you have no sense.

i want you to be comfortable. we are family.

at least a vulture waits until you are dead to eat you alive!

why don't you take off your coat and sit down?

you are a stormy youth.

all people have the right to foolishness. some just abuse the privilege.

arguing about glasses being half-empty or half-full misses the point: that the bartender cheated you.

"piss off" -- the retort of the inarticulate!

good god, what is the point of anything anymore?

hysteria does not become you.

you are a good man. a brave one.

darling, you must come to bed.

you are terribly good at what you do, especially for one so young.

you are a goddamned nuisance.

i so wish you could've known him.

you have seen the world. what is the most important thing?

there is no time to argue.

take part in the world, my love. do not shirk from it.

anything is possible, with a love like ours.

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omsdoortodoor · 16 days

Text

Blog Extra - MS Awareness Week 22nd April to 28th April 2024

This week is UK MS Awareness Week and this year Overcoming MS is running a campaign called #MSUnfiltered.

As part of the campaign, OMS is working with MS Society UK, MS Together, Multiple Sclerosis Trust, MS-UK, Neuro Therapy Network and Shift.ms to survey over 1,400 people in the UK living with MS. The survey results showed us that:

When I was diagnosed the first thing I did was to check out the MS charity websites, as recommended by my neurologist. When I read the long list of symptoms

I was appalled because I had virtually all of these symptoms to some degree or another.

Here is the list of symptoms combined from the MS Trust and the MS Society websites:

Fatigue

Strange Skin sensations (numbness tingling, pins and needles, a crawling)

Balance and Co-ordination

Vision Problems

Walking difficulties

Thinking & memory difficulties (brain fog)

Bladder & bowel issues

Temperature sensitivity

Low mood, emotional problems, depression, and anxiety

Pain

Sexual issues

Sleep problems

Speech and swallowing problems

Hearing difficulties

Tremors

So when I read the list not only was I dismayed, I was also rather confused. Because, some of those symptoms I had been putting down to my age. So how do I know is it my MS or an age thing?

But I’m really hear to talk about the #MSUnfiltered campaign and what we don’t usually talk about.

While I have been very open about my MS diagnosis, there are some people who chose not to tell their employer for fear of being judged and side-lined at work. And when I chose to give up work, I didn’t tell my clients the full reasons behind my decision. Which were, that I no longer trusted myself to build an accurate spreadsheet of financial projections or that it took me three times longer that it should to write a simple report due to my brain fog and reduction in manual dexterity at the keyboard. The reduction in my ability to hold complex ideas in my mind undermined my confidence in my own abilities. I wanted them to remember me as someone capable of doing everything that I used.

Sometimes I get so overwhelmed by outside stimulus that I struggle to think straight or to express myself properly. All I can manage is a grunt because I can’t get the words that I want to say out. I come over as inarticulate and I worry people will think I am rude because I only use a few words and need to go and lie down.

Up to 50% of people with MS have poor mental health – this is something I am comfortable talking about and I am happy to fly the flag here. However, when I went on an MS retreat in November and started to talk about how MS affects my mental health, not one person had the courage to talk about their own issues. Even though there were 40 people in the room, and we were in a ‘safe space’. If the stats are right at least 20 people in that room must have experience of poor mental health. For a moment, I felt a bit embarrassed for raising the topic, but only for a moment. What I really felt was sympathy that no one else had the courage to share.

And finally, my closest friends will know that I use the loo A LOT. I now have a RADAR key but I haven't had to use it YET.

#MSAwarenessWeek #MSAwareness #MS #MSDiagnosis #OvercomingMS #OMS #MSSymptoms

#MSAwarenessWeek #OvercomingMS #MSAwareness #ms #msdiagnosis #oms #ms symptoms

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itsclydebitches · 2 years

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i totally get having to leave Cinder with her step-family. my only concern with rhodes is that he took out his wea-PONS to fight a child and told her running from an abusive situation is bad, actually. like why is that always regarded as the coward's way out in this show? also what could Cinder now be metaphorically running from? a sense of inferiority?

1,000% agree that the whole "Running from abuse is #bad because you must face every problem head on like a Real Hero!" we sometimes see in storytelling is a terrible message packed with all sorts of problems, but in Cinder's case I think fans forget that Rhodes is specifically talking about running in the context of killing the Madame:

Rhodes: I’ve seen you around and I think it’s safe to say you’re not getting the most fair treatment, yeah? I can’t really blame you for what you’re thinking.

Cinder: You don’t know what I’m--

Rhodes: But hurting them isn’t going to make your life any better. You can run, but you’re going to be running for the rest of your life. Or you could find another way to handle it.

Rhodes isn't just saying the metaphorical, "Don't run from your abuse," he's also saying the literal, "Don't murder someone and then be on the run." Cinder has stolen his weapon and he knows she plans to kill with it. The question isn't whether Cinder should run away, the question is whether Cinder should commit murder and then run away. THAT'S how she's trying to solve the problem of her abuse. Not just by running, but by killing, which is the part Rhodes wants to avoid, helping her to find "another way." And as a huntsmen who has a very limited view of this situation (I also think fans forget that Rhodes doesn't see everything that the audience does. He frames this as "not getting the most fair treatment" because all he's seen is what the Madame is willing to do in public. AKA, nothing too terrible), he's obviously in camp Don't Kill People That's Very Bad.

The second part of this conversation is equally important:

Cinder: Like you? You can do whatever you want, go wherever you want.

Rhodes: Ah... how old are you?

Cinder: Ten.

Rhodes: And you want to be like us? You want to be a Huntress?

[Cinder nods]

Rhodes: Then we’ve got about seven years.

The fandom, both through just legit faulty memory as well as a desire to paint every character they dislike as black and white Bad, has inarticulately boiled the situation down to something it wasn't. The fandom remembers this as Cinder wanting to run away, Rhodes totally having the ability to sweep her off to safety, but he refuses and instead forces Cinder to endure seven more years of torture for the hell of it. In reality though, Cinder wanted to kill her family, Rhodes stopped her, he gives no indication that he can/is willing to essentially kidnap this child whose situation, based on dialogue, he doesn't realize is as horrific as it actually is, Cinder expresses a desire to leave but she also dictates the limitation that's stopping her (she can't go wherever she wants like a huntsmen can because she has no power. AKA combat ability), so Rhodes provides the solution: I'll make you a huntsmen. I'll give you that power.

That's what it boils down to. Cinder goes, 'I wish I had the freedom of a huntsmen' to which Rhodes responds, 'Cool, I'll make you a huntress.' Cinder never asks him to help her run away and Rhodes never tells her that's bad outside the specific context of murdering to get there. Cinder recognizes that flight isn't an option without resources, so Rhodes provides the resource: his training.

So yeah, as said and agreed upon there are reasons he left her there. But there are also reasons why he cautions against running, ones that exist specifically within the context of Cinder solving her abuse with murder. I mean, people will never agree on whether that's justified or not - personally, it's too complex an issue for me to make any blanket claims - but the important thing here is that Rhodes believes that killing people, even in self-defense against abuse, is both morally wrong and, as he emphasizes, bad for the victim too. That's why when Cinder claims she doesn't have to run anymore now that her abusers are dead, Rhodes disagrees and says that's "all you'll ever do." Taking those lives might have freed Cinder from their physical hold on her, but emotionally/spiritually/morally/soul-y/whatever it's harmed her in a way she'll never fully recover from. Which, again, we might not agree with that message, some people might go, "Fuck that, killing your abusers is great and I'd be just fine afterwards!", but that's not the message RWBY is interested in upholding. This is a show that's trying to send a message of peace and cooperation (no matter how badly it's messed that up recently), so of course RWBY isn't going to be team Killing is Fine, Actually. The show isn't self-aware enough to realize when it's fumbled that message, but that doesn't mean it's not upholding it elsewhere, and if that's a message the audience doesn't like... they're watching the wrong kind of show. I don't mean that as an insult, just as a simple statement of fact. Some shows grapple with the complexities of killing. Others do not. It's not wrong for a show to take a moral position and maintain it even through extreme situations. Insert the similar, "I can't believe Steven Universe had him forgive literal, genocidal dictators. What do you mean this is a kid's show? What do you mean there's a moral code driving the entire series that is not beholden to the messiness of real world, ethical dilemmas because it's a fiction about magical space rocks? What do you mean this is all built on generations of storytelling where the Pure-Hearted Hero (or the simple soul...) forgives even the most heinous of crimes to instill an ethical perspective that, while not literally applicable to daily life, helps teach viewers to approach others with an open mind and the benefit of the doubt?"

So RWBY says that killing is bad and, lo and behold, when the villain kills people things get worse. Cinder does not heal after murdering her abusers. It does not bring her peace. She is not free. Metaphorically and literally, she never stops running. She becomes a career criminal, is incapable of forming any true relationships, and most importantly, walks back into an abusive relationship (with Salem) because that's all she knows. Rhodes tries, however messily and fraught with mistakes, to lead Cinder away from that path, encouraging her to become a huntress who leaves her abuse without taking life and instead devotes herself to helping others, allowing herself to heal in turn. Instead, Cinder chooses violence - or more accurately, chooses power - and it's done nothing to serve her in the way she hoped it would. In the real world we'll always continue to debate whether it's justified/morally right/healthy/etc. for an abuse victim to kill their abusers in self-defense, but in RWBY's world, in this fictional world, taking that action is framed as a massive mistake.

Which is why Rhodes pulls his weapons on Cinder. Honestly, I don't have a problem with that like so many others do. Firstly because she's fully trained now. She wins. This isn't a fighter attacking a child anymore, it's a fighter facing off against another who, plot twist because power scaling doesn't exist in this show, is somehow better. If we can accept hero Ruby at 15 leading huntsmen in battle, we can accept 15-ish Cinder defending herself for her crime. This has always been a problem with RWBY: accepting the characters' ages for one thing, but not another. Either we run with the idea of child fighters or we don't. If Cinder is a child who Rhodes shouldn't fight then, sorry, but our title protagonist shouldn't be out fighting either.

Second, it's by no means unprovoked. Again, so much of this comes down to whether we think Cinder's murders were justified, but Rhode's moral code as a huntsmen says he needs to take her in. It's the same sort of situation Clover faced: follow an arrest order, or let the (potential) criminal go free because you have a bond with them? For me, given that RWBY is a world FILLED with villainy and subterfuge, I can't ever fault a character for playing it safe. Clover doesn't know who's working with Salem. Rhodes doesn't know if Cinder is going to hurt anyone else. Neither of them are trying to kill the person in question, just get them into the justice system, and too often fans map our own flawed systems onto RWBY's world and assume that an arrest equals police brutality, or a rigged sentencing, or the person disappearing into some black hole of the government. All Rhodes did though was look at someone who'd just murdered three people and went, "I can't let you walk away from that" and... yeah. Hard agree.

Especially because third, Cinder killed two innocents. The sisters were not her abusers, they were her bullies. It's an important distinction (and I say that as someone who suffered a LOT of bullying as a kid). They're shown to be roughly, if not exactly the same age. They've grown up modeling their mother's behavior with no one to teach them differently. Their attacks on Cinder consist of meanly eating strawberries and leaving muddy footprints for her to clean. That's in no way comparable to a shock collar. I might have a different opinion of Rhodes going into full arrest mode if Cinder had only killed the Madame, especially if it still happened in the heat of her torture with that collar. As it stands though, Cinder started with the sisters. To me, that's a crime in a way killing the Madame is arguably not. RWBY could have framed this as Cinder only killing someone who truly deserved it and being tragically punished for her self-defense. However, RWBY instead went the route of Cinder being eager to kill from the get-go, taking out her abuser, and those around her who were never a true threat to her. Oh, and then when the consequences show up, Cinder decides to kill her mentor too. She could have laid down her weapon and allowed herself to be arrested (flashback to Ruby fighting the Ace Ops...) If this was really just about freeing herself from the abuse, Cinder could have taken the Madame's life, thrown the sword aside, and accepted whatever her life would be now because at least it's not the horror she was living. Instead, Cinder chose to kill the one person who had ever been kind to her. That's not Tragic Abused Child Making Ethically Dubious Decisions territory, that's Classic Villain in the Making territory. Which we obviously know given that Cinder is a villain who loves killing for the hell of it, but Rhodes was getting a glimpse of that too when he walked in on a massacre. Actually, it's kinda funny how audience knowledge tends to inform fan readings except when it's supposed to. Idk, but I'm not sure how anyone can look at future Burned Beacon, Killed Pyrrha, Stabbed Weiss, Serves RWBY's Devil Equivalent in Her Efforts to Destroy the World, and Successfully Helped to Perma-Kill Penny + 'Kill' the Title Team Cinder Fall and go, "I can't believe a huntsmen would try to fight her!" She's the bad guy. Literally our first episode is a soon-to-be huntress fighting her. The fact that Rhodes fought her early is just a way for him to thematically recognize what she'd become. Because she stole his weapon and wanted to #murder with it. And then she did that. And then she killed him. RWBY gave Cinder her expected, tragic backstory, but she's still the villain. The villain does villainous things and the good guys (huntsmen like Rhodes) try to stop her. That's the story.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

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returnsandreturns · 1 year

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It sucks that you're having a rough time 🫂 for a kink request, mattfoggy foot kink?

"You know how your whole hyper-sensitivity thing means you have, like, fifty three different erogenous zones?" Foggy asks, with his feet resting in Matt's lap, having accepted a foot rub after a long day of errands that he got stuck with in a game of rock, paper, scissors. He forgets sometimes that this is kind of a--thing for him.

"You've made me very aware of that, yeah," Matt says, with a sweet smile.

"Well, I don't have quite that many," Foggy says, slowly, "but you are. . .kind of touching one right now."

Matt looks surprised for a second before he laughs, warmly.

"Feet?" he asks. "Really?"

"I might be a little into feet," Foggy says. "In a very. . .normal and tasteful way."

"Interesting," Matt murmurs, barely running over his fingers over the sole of one of Foggy's feet, face going a little darker at the shuddering sound that Foggy doesn't even try to hold back.

Matt digs a thumb in and Foggy moans, tipping his head back.

"Okay, I like that sound," Matt says, sounding happy. "I want to try something."

"Anything you want," Foggy says, breathlessly, letting Matt tug him to his feet and lead him to his bedroom, where Matt kisses him and undresses him and gets him sprawled out naked on the stupid perfect silk sheets.

Matt starts with a kiss to his forehead and doesn't stop until Foggy can feel his breath on his feet.

"You want it?" Matt asks, voice low and dangerous, fingers curled around Foggy's ankle to lift one of his feet closer to his face.

"I want it," Foggy echoes. "Holy shit, Matt."

"What do you say?" Matt asks, and Foggy sits up on his elbows to see the face that Matt always makes when he's about to be a menace to society. A sex menace.

"Please," Foggy says, laughing.

"Good boy," Matt says, getting a lot out of two syllables that he knows makes Foggy melt in a truly embarrassing way. He's about to say something inarticulate when Matt presses a wet kiss to the sole of one of his feet and his actual soul leaves his body.

There's a kiss to his other foot and then tongue and Foggy stutters out, "If this is--if this is gross to you, you don't have to--"

Matt sucks Foggy's big toe into his mouth.

"Oh my god, I love you," Foggy says, desperately.

#mattfoggy #my fic #daredevil

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chubby-aphrodite · 3 months

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i feel like im going fucking insane. my mother mildly enjoys going to this diner in town, which would be fine, except,

the one time we went there together, because we had heard the food was decent and wanted a new place to possibly add to our repertoire of preferred diners, it was right there. the one television i didn't have to break my neck to look at. playing newsmax. and it wasn't just the sheer fact that it was newsmax, it was specifically a segment about how queer people are predophile groomers.

to say i was "uncomfortable" was an understatement. i felt genuinely fucking unsafe. i regularly wear pins and shirts with pride flags on them. i felt unsafe because i was actually unsafe. i cried in the parking lot on the way out. but my mom didn't care. "next time." she said. why next time? "we'll ask them if they can change the channel or turn it off next time." no. no next time. i'm not going back there. i refuse to go back to where someone willingly slurps down garbage propaganda about how i'm a dangerous predator or a confused loony who should be locked up for their own safety.

i didn't say that, though. i didn't have the words at the time. i said "they think i shouldn't exist." i can be a very articulate person when i want to be, but i couldn't be right then. i was so distraught.

we've never gone back there together.

but my mom still goes there for lunch sometimes. and today she went there by herself for dinner while i made my own dinner at home, like i usually do wednesday-thursday. she didn't feel like cooking and they made a specific dish the way she likes, she said. you can't get it like that anywhere else around here anymore, she said.

so she comes back and tells me yeah they were playing newsmax again. and that she knew i didn't like it but there was nothing she could really do about it. she just liked the food.

we started arguing.

how could she go there knowing that the owner specifically puts it on? (she told me that he puts it on.) that she was giving her money to someone who believed those things? "i'm too old for ultimatums" she said. (no she's not. she gives me stupid fucking ultimatums all the time.) there's plenty of diners around here, we're in fucking new jersey, the diner capital of the country. "you can't get that food the way i like it around here anymore." you can make it the way you like it. "not tasting like that i can't."

i wish you would just fucking learn instead of giving that guy money. (i didnt say that.)

"if you're so pressed about this one guy playing newsmax, why don't we also just stop going to all the places that play fox?" that's different. "no it's not." yes it fucking is.

i couldn't say this at the time because i was just getting more upset and inarticulate but my reasoning is as follows: we live in a heavily republican area. yes, a lot of places play fox, but they tend to just be local, fox affiliate stations and not the dumbass talking heads of the company that break national news by saying something stupid and bigoted. and most of the restaurateurs around here at least have the good sense to try and appear neutral by also playing abc, nbc, cnn, and so on along with fox. and, because of, if we stopped going to anywhere that played fox, we'd have to never go to a local restaurant ever again.

but i have to draw the line somewhere. and i draw it at fucking newsmax blaring hate about me and my community to my face.

i know i said i didn't say most of these words in this order to her. because i couldn't. because i was so fucking upset. but i can't now. i can't bring up past arguments about anything without her blowing me off and getting mad that i'm still on this shit. so here i am. writing it on fucking tumblr. and i'm going to be reading it to my therapist tomorrow, too, because holy shit did it put me in a downward spiral.

#fae talks #vent post #long post

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