#every time I read 'advantage' it's really jarring for me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ryker-writes · 1 year

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Hey, darling~

can i request seme male reader (The reader is top ) for my older brother , please.

he was sad because he was late for visiting the event with his cute boyfriend, So, I as a kind sister, i want to make him happy by requesting all Twister wonderland characters or for vil , Leona,lilia,malleus,epel,Jade, Jade twins brother, and cater ( if you don't want to write too much) .

Except chenya and ortho because they are still very small.😩🥲

Please.....🙏🙏🙏❤️💋

I love you and all your work and blog too❤️🌹

Of course! You're a very nice sister for requesting this for him. You get Ryker's seal of approval for being a good sibling. To the brother reading this, I hope this makes you happy! I was given a description to work off of daily life with male s/o who is strong and muscular.

Please note: because I don't write sexual content right now, this request is going to be focusing more on the traits I was given above.

Because of how many characters there are in this one, each part might be a little short sorry and also I'm sorry if I didn't do this right and I hope it's all okay

Request rules and Masterlists

Riddle:

Riddle can really appreciate your strength

not many of the students in Heartslabyul are super strong

so he might ask you to help from time to time with some things

helping him with things like moving tables for unbirthday parties takes a lot of stress away from him

he's very touch starved so your strong hugs really help him a lot

Trey:

he's probably one of the few that doesn't pay that much attention to your strength

don't get me wrong, he likes your strength and muscles

he just doesn't pay as much attention to it as some of the others might

still, he loves every part of you and that includes your strength

he doesn't ask for help often, but he greatly appreciates when you do

Trey's one of the boys that low key enjoys it if you pick him up

he'll be startled for a second, but is very happy to be in your arms

he won't ask you to pick him up, but he loves when you do

Cater:

loves loves loves it!

he wants you to show off your strength every chance he gets

he just loves having a strong boyfriend so much!

so he'll come to you thought the day with small things that require strength

you know he can open that jar or his own...he just wants to see you do it

and he takes photos and videos of it all for his magicam

he'll even ask you to flex for his photos

Ace:

daily challenges

Ace loves to challenge your strength in different ways

he'll find the heaviest thing he can and ask you to move it or carry it, or he'll challenge you himself

this usually means arm wrestling matches or wrestling matches between the two of you

but beware, Ace plays dirty and will use cheap tricks to win

Deuce:

very impressed

Deuce himself isn't weak, but he definitely wishes he had your muscle

he's one of the guys that likes watching you do things or like stare at your muscles

but he doesn't do it intentionally, most of the time he doesn't even realize he's doing it

if you comment on it he'll get a little flustered but compliment you anyway

Leona:

hahaha he loves it

Leona loves having a partner who is strong, so he doesn't have to worry about you

he's going to ask you to carry him around to his other napping places

it's just so much nicer for you to carry him than for him to walk

and he will totally try and sleep while you carry him

take it as a sign he trusts you

Ruggie:

Ruggie is very happy about it

he loves having a boyfriend that's super strong

and he takes full advantage of it

sometimes he uses you to intimidate others, or as defense when someone catches him stealing

he'll also ask you to help him with some of his jobs that require more heavy lifting

Ruggie absolutely loves being carried by you please pick him up

Jack:

Jack has a lot of respect for the strong

and he has a lot of love and respect for his partner

since you're both, you get some of his ultimate respect

he absolutely loves having a strong partner

he'll want to do some of his weightlifting and exercises with you

another thing he loves to do, is challenges with you

he firmly believes that it's always good to challenge yourself and keep building your strength

so he'd love to have fun little competitions with you about who can lift the most or do the most exercises

Azul:

he has two sides of showing how much he likes it

his more business man side that he shows in front of others is a more subtle appreciation for your strength

he often asks you to help with some things around the lounge and he'll give you small bits of appreciation

but when it's jus the two of you, he's more open about how much he loves it

Azul gets flustered just watching you and your muscles

and he straight up panics if you pick him up

but he secretly loves it so much

Jade:

he finds your strength impressive and admirable

Jade absolutely loves feeling your strong arms around him

some eels wrap around their partners, so feeling your arms wrapped around him makes him happy

he really enjoys watching you help out around the lounge, especially if you're moving something heavy

and he is not ashamed to be caught staring at you

Floyd:

yesssss

he loves you and your strength so so much

he usually squeezes people pretty hard and they start complaining, but he doesn't ever see a problem with it

so he absolutely loves to hug you and feel your strong hugs

it's like getting squeezed back :)

another thing he loves to do is wrap himself around you

not just his arms, I mean his entire body

he likes to feel your muscles

because he does this, you're practically carrying him half the time

Kalim:

Kalim loves your strength so much

he's going to jump on you all the time and ask you to carry him

doesn't matter if it's on your back, on your shoulders, in your arms

he just loves being carried by you

Kalim is almost constantly showering you in praise about your strength and muscles

he thinks it's so impressive and cool

Jamil:

he's a little jealous of your strength

Jamil isn't weak, but oh the things he could do if he had your strength

he often asks you to help him with things around Scarabia and with Kalim

when he's had a bad day, his favorite thing is to just feel your strong arms around him

another secret enjoyer of being picked up

Vil:

you get lots of praise from Vil

he knows the importance of staying in shape and building your strength

and muscles take a while to develop

so he often gives you praise and compliments when you do something that requires your strength

Vil is capable of handling most things, he pretty strong himself after all

but if he worries that doing something may affect his image or reputation in any way, he will kindly ask you to help him with it

Rook:

he adores you

praise praise praise

he could shower you with compliments and praise all day

stares at your muscles without shame

and he loves to watch you do literally anything

but he loves even more to feel your muscles and praise them up close

he absolutely loves it if you pick him up

he will swoon

Epel:

Epel is really stubborn when it comes to showing strength and muscle

he's determined to prove that he's super strong

so he'll sit there struggling to lift something heavy while you watch

at some point you will have to help him

Epel is very small, but he feels even smaller when he's next to you

if you tease him at all, he will take it as a challenge

next thing you know, he's play fighting with you and trying to wrestle you to the ground

don't underestimate him, he does have a good amount of strength in him

Idia:

he thinks of you as one of those super strong anime characters that can KO another character in one hit

the kind that are overpowered, but super chill about it

overall, he thinks you're super cool

anytime you lift something really heavy or open something he can't (without the help of technology), he's always impressed

sometimes he just sits there and watches you do things like that

he just kind of zones out while watching you

but if you look at him while he's doing this he's going to get so flustered

Malleus:

he's very intrigued

usually, he's surrounded by knights who are very strong themselves

but he doesn't care as much about them

so he'll praise you a lot about your strength

Malleus is another one that loves to just sit and watch you do anything

he's super strong himself, so he doesn't really need your help with things

...but he'll still ask you to help because he wants to watch you do it

Lilia:

he loves you so much

he finds your muscles and strength adorable

Lilia loves to surprise jump on you at random times

he'll sneak up behind you to jump at you or there's been a couple times where he's jumped off the ceiling onto you

he also loves to have little competitions with you

i hate to say it, but he holds back most of the time

if he doesn't he will win every time

but he loves watching you try your hardest

Silver:

soft boy loves your strength

he loves to sleep with your arms around him

it's the most comfortable he's ever felt and he feels so secure in your arms

another thing he really loves is that when he starts to fall asleep, you can carry him somewhere else

he sort of wants to try training with you, but won't force you into it

Sebek:

your strength has earned his respect

that's a big accomplishment

seeing how much work you clearly put into building your strength makes him feel inspired

each day, he'll ask you to train with him or work out with him

and he wants to impress you with his strength too

so if he sees you lifting something heavy (even though you can handle it), he runs up and takes it from you

A/N: Floyd squeezes everyone but no one ever squeezes him back :(

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lildoodlenoodle · 10 months

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First things first(spoilers for spiderverse/spidergeddon and comic noir storyline) this is a long post but you’ll have fun I promise. As always feel free to engage with the post, I’d love to hear different theories/opinions/conclusions on this in the tags or comments. Sorry it took so long!

Now I’m gonna say something morbid:

Spider Noir’s death in the comics was hilarious

Jarring, but hilarious. Like why’d he grab him like that. I physically had to shut off my iPad and go for a walk after this scene when I first read it.

But to my point, you know how some people say your birth mark is how you died in your last life?

Well post resurrection we might have A, B, and C:

(Now before anyone gets on me for, why would you do that/even think of this? In my defense, I couldn’t remember where he was grabbed, it’s been a while since I’ve read these. I thought it was gonna be on his back or shoulder and I’d give him a burned on handprint going all ‘gripped you tight and raised from perdition’ which is cool, fun, sexy, and conveniently hidden. Then I reread it and it’s basically a permanent face palm. Also pretend his face looks the same in every one. Couldn’t decide on hair either lol.)

Either way post resurrection Peter should have physical after effects of his resurrection. Either lines all over his body from having the life force sucked out of him or birth/burn marks on his face. I think this would be hilarious, angsty, and interesting. I also hate when people are just resurrected willynilly. LET THE TRAUMA OF DYING AND COMING BACK TAKE ITS TOLE. Especially if it’s multiple times.

In MK: Midnight Mission they, pretty recently, came up against this problem with the MK system being resurrected over and over again and facing really no visible consequences. But then we find out, there isn’t really a limit(ignoring the whole Khonshu imprisonment), but eventually mentally, there will be nothing left to resurrect. And the mindless mummy warrior creatures we meet from Khonshu’s ‘world’ were old avatars that wasted away from resurrections. It explains the alterations and perversions of the MK system’s mental conditions, because they are actively being altered and changed, to be brought back, by a multidimensional creature that doesn’t care about their mental health/state(that Khonshu takes advantage of, knowing what he’s doing). Sound familiar?

Now, time to get philosophical. Ship of Theseus.

What is it? Ship of Theseus is an ideological/philosophy problem about a king, Theseus, who saved the children of Athens from king Minos and the Minotaur and then sailed his ship to Delos. Then each year Athenians would sail that same ship from Athens to Delos in celebration of the myth. Over time they kept replacing parts of the ship for maintenance purposes, till every plank had been replaced, so they could still make the voyage. Now the question is, is it still the same ship? At what point did it stop becoming that original ship? And does it matter?

Applying this philosophical exercise to resurrection, with what we know above, we can get an interesting dialogue going. But, with that said, it’s important to keep in mind that the resurrection process in this context with these multidimensional gods isn’t explained with enough detail to really take it apart. Like what happens to the soul? Is the brain damage we know Marc has from repeatedly dying and his brain repeatedly going without oxygen or is it from just interacting with a multidimensional god? Is the spider god comparable to Khonshu? Is the spider god even real, if not what or how was Peter actually resurrected? And if it is real, what is its main goal? At least with Khonshu we know he has an agenda. What does it want, what’s its end game?

But let’s get into it anyways.

Now, you may be wondering, why do I keep saying multiple resurrections in regards to Spider noir? I am so glad you asked! I believe Peter's initial spider bite killed him. He had to go to the afterlife to actually see the spider god. That’s why we really only see them three times, at the initial power conception, Peter’s resurrection, and when Peter goes to the ‘underworld’ in the 2020 run. We see something similar with Khonshu in Midnight mission, while he’s in space jail, Marc can only see him during resurrections or while he’s dead. And while we’re comparing the MK system to spider noir, when Marc got his powers, he basically had to die first. That was implied to be his first resurrection. So this wouldn’t be a one off situation. We have some rules.

What we don’t see with Moonknight and Khonshu is visual physical change. Outside of the ghost bird skull armor the boys aren’t visually changing. Meanwhile, Peter has physically turned into a monster before and turned completely back. In #4/5 of the 2020 noir run the cicada stone/pink meteor turns people into monsters, but not everyone. Huma turns, Shocker turns, Peter turns, and all the resurrected villains(one guy just explodes). But Hu-Ri and Checkpoint Red don’t, until Hu-Ri touches the stone. Huma and Peter are both in close proximity to eldritch beings, them turning into inspired versions of those beings make sense. The Shocker turns because he spent so much time holding onto the stone, whereas Red hasn't. But notice Shocker and Hu-Ri don’t turn into an animal inspired version of themselves like Huma and Peter do, he becomes more of a hulk like creature, because he isn’t attached to an other-worldly being. And when Peter turned back he essentially said “that hurt like a bitch” and kept moving.

If we want to keep with the canon noir timeline and going with the idea that the Spider god is either continuously changing Peter, or just changing him during resurrections this would explain the webbing and mood/personality change from the 2009 comics to the 2020 comics. But that’s boring and too simple and I hate the time jump so fuck that shit.(again another post).

So let’s focus back on ‘Ship of Theseus’ in the context of resurrection. We have too many questions about the process of resurrection for spider noir to properly have this conversation, but I’m going to try anyways. Let’s hit what we know again: resurrection changes your brain chemistry/structure, the spider god is changing Peter throughout the series, Peter has possibly had three resurrections, the spider god resurrected Peter from a different dimension, which confirms this is a multidimensional being(if she exists but shhhh). So now that we’ve established that there are changes happening to Peter(one way or another) we know that the spider god is ‘repairing’ Peter throughout the series or ‘replacing his boards’ so to speak.

At what point is this no longer Peter? Is it when he is no longer recognizable as a human? Or is it when there is nothing left in his mind to resurrect? Or has this never been Peter, or rather not since his first resurrection when he got his powers? Is this change sudden or slow? Is it the resurrection that turns him into something else, is it slow build up like an Iodine Clock titration and one day he just wakes up no longer human, or is it a slow process of subtle changes? But if the latter, what’s the change that does it? What defines Peter’s humanity? Does it matter if he’s human or not? Does it change anything for him if he’s no longer human in body and mind?

Part of the answer may lie in the villains we see through the 2009 and 2020 runs. In the first run the main villains were the Goblin and the Vulture. Both who were implied to not be human or having physical inhuman qualities(but I’m partially ignoring the whole carney thing cause honestly it’s ableist and boring). In Eyes Without A Face, the second run, the main villains are the Crime Master and Dr. Octavious, both humans with no inhuman or supernatural qualities. For simplicity sake, let’s focus on Octavious and Goblin. In comparing the two I think most people would agree Octavious is the more heinous of the two. Goblin takes on the role of a mob boss. He runs a crime empire, exploiting the defenseless in New york. It’s nothing new and he’s even somewhat sympathetic ‘I’m finished with freakshows’, you can understand how he got where he is. This is not to say he isn’t a villain but he very much fits the ‘villain with a tragic backstory’. People look at him like he is a monster, we, the reader, start out the story knowing what he is.

Whereas Octavious is not even remotely sympathetic because there is no empathizing with how he ended up there and why he does what he does. He is not only othered by his actions but also by the narrative for his disability(it’s important to acknowledge the ableism in his story but that is another post). Ultimately his delusions and the acts he commits make him a much more sinister monster than Norman, despite Norman actually having stereotypical qualities of a monster.

Then we have Huma and Shocker from the 2020 run. Huma is the closest person we see who is in a similar situation to Peter in terms of the spider god. While we don’t know all the details, whether she is the same as Peter, bearing a curse of power, or the actual god. Either way she presents as human and is not treated differently than any other human woman. At the end of the series we realize how corrupt she is and that she’s been working with Nazi’s, not necessarily for the ideology but to achieve what she wants. Her transformation is the nail in her coffin of her monsterous perception. The question is did we need her to look like a monster to see her as one?

In general we are left with more questions and theories than answers.

But onto my subjective answers to the questions. My answers might change over time so don’t hold me to them.

Of course it matters if Peter has humanity. Peter Parker across the board is one of the characters who HAS to hold himself to a moral code or he falls apart and becomes the villain(well maybe not the villain but you know what I mean) of the story. He holds back during fights and has a no kill policy for a reason.(Good men don’t need rules, today is not the day to find out why I have so many.-dr.who) But noir Peter isn’t your typical Peter. He kills, he maims, he doesn’t hold back. With that said, he still is held together by his morality. It’s just different than what we are used to seeing from Peter, but don’t mistake that as a lack of morality. However, do I think it’s a very real possibility that this morality could be eroded over time especially considering his home world and the above circumstances? Absolutely. Peter is someone who historically needs someone to ground him and ‘make’ him human. This is normally May Parker, Mary Jane, Gwen Stacy, occasionally Harry Osborn, Daredevil, Johnny Storm, and Flash Thompson, and the ghost of Ben Parker. Dude lives by a passing saying of a dead relative, he clearly doesn’t have a super solid moral compass. I think this is part of the reason the noir comics kept his relationship with May and Mary Jane(I disagree but whatever whatever), because he needs support to stay grounded.

Now, under what circumstances is Peter no longer Peter? I’m going with the Iodine Clock titration theory. Just drop after drop of ‘changes’ and morally questionable decisions that don’t seem to hold much weight, until he does something truly off the reservation. Like seeing himself do something truly horrific that a couple years ago he would have never done and shocking himself out of it. Or looks in the mirror and doesn’t see a person staring back. For either circumstance, because he’s appalled with himself or struck by the fact he doesn’t really care. This is not to say I don’t think he could come back from this but holy shit will it be a process.

But it brings us back to ‘If there is too much power then it is the responsibility of the people to take it away.’ Peter losing his humanity puts him in the Goblin’s place as the one with great power that cannot be trusted from the first comic. Whether it’s the resurrections, the spider god ‘replacing’ parts of him, or him just being pushed to the brink mentally that does it. Whether the change is physical, neurological, spiritual, or mental. This ‘Peter’ is not the Peter we first meet in 1932.

This is a different ship, and you can sail and stay on the same course in memory of, or under the false pretense of being, the original as many times as you want, but you cannot bring back the parts you replaced and undo the ‘improvements’ you made. But that doesn’t need to make Peter a monster.

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xfgpng · 1 year

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𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 —

— : [nsfw ] pet names, edging, unprotected sex, face slapping + degrading

— : wc : 1.3k

it’s his fault. he only has himself to blame but no matter how many times he complains, he knows he’ll still give in to your every whim. you’re spoiled, a little bratty when you don’t get your way but he made you this way.

before you, gojo was single and had far too much money to blow. he was smart, he worked hard and invested a lot of it but he still had a black card that was unlimited and nothing to do. he already had everything he wanted and even that became boring.

and then he met you, a sweet young thing, just about 21 with a smile to die for. he would probably kill to keep that smile on your face, even with your pouty lips and wide eyes. you manipulated his feelings without even realising it.

or maybe you did and used that to your advantage. he knows you love him, you can have anyone you want, he knows he’s not the only man with money but he’s certainly the most dangerous.

“stop pouting, i’ll give you something to whine about” satoru warns. his hand that isn’t gripping the steering wheel is placed firmly on your upper thigh. he squeezes it for good measure but you know it’s mainly to ground him than to actually reprimand you.

he definitely had other, more effective ways to remind you who you really belonged to. not that he ever treated you like some kind of asset or his property. to him, you were worth more than all the money he had.

“i don’t understand why you’re so upset” you roll your eyes, “he’s just a friend and he was having a small little get together”

“i don’t care if you have friends or what their genders are” he clenches his jaw. he would never try to control you like that. he respected you far more than he cared about his ego. “i see the way that fucker looks at you y/n”

you scoff, crossing your arms and staring out the tinted window. deep down, you knew he was right but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. he ignores you for now but his hand remains in place and you don’t want to remove it anyway.

satoru doesn’t say anything when you arrive him but he opens the door for you. he takes your purse and helps you out your uncomfortable stilettos. he makes no comments like he usually does, teasing you about wanting to wear them despite always complaining and it’s slightly jarring but you don’t want to break the silence.

he walks into the large kitchen, getting a glass for his whiskey and a glass of wine for you. he looks up at you and you sigh, walking over to the island to sit down. you can tell he’s still upset and as ridiculous as you think it is, you know he’s right.

“satoru, i’m sorry” you frown, way too needy for his attention to keep up your bad attitude.

“i’m sure you are baby” he says dryly but at least he’s turned his body towards you. he’s got his laptop open with work he still needs to finish and you don’t like to disturb him when he’s busy.

“i’m going to shower” you say, finishing your wine before placing a gentle kiss on his hand. his lip twitches like he wants to smile but he doesn’t acknowledge you.

he could be just as stubborn as you were and it’s why you were a made for each other. the thought has you laughing to yourself as you slide off your pretty dress and head into the on suite bathroom.

you enjoyed relaxing in the bath but you were more interested in finally getting to spend time with your pouty boyfriend.

“y/n?” he calls once he’s finished off whatever he had been reading through. you’ve already changed into your nightgown, a soft and silky short little cream nightie that he gifted you for your 1 year anniversary. it was your favourite piece and he knew you would wear it on purpose.

“are you done?” you ask, standing up from your vanity as he steps behind you to wrap his strong arms around your body. he smells like his favourite whiskey and his signature cologne you’re so obsessed with.

“hm” he nods, kissing your bare shoulder.

“still ignoring me?” you ask

you feel him smile against your shoulder, lips trailing soft kisses towards your jaw. you know this is all a facade and he had plans to ruin you like he always did.

“come” he says gently, taking your hand in his and leading you to the large floor to ceiling windows. he’s drawn the curtains in your bedroom so you get a perfect view of the city lights. tokyo really was so beautiful.

“it’s always so beautiful” you say in awe, starring down at the twinkling lights but he’s only focused on you and how breathtaking you look.

he can barely keep his hands off you, leaning his body against you as he wraps his arms around your waist again.

“fuck baby” satoru groans, “you smell so good”

you can’t help the smile, biting your lip as he bites down along your neck. he can’t help but indulge himself, as much as he wants to take his time, he has all the time in the world any other day and today wasn’t about taking it slow.

he pushes your face against the window, grinning when he realises you’ve already removed your makeup.

“don’t be so mean” you say, trying to tease him as you purposely sway your hips for him. you always knew how to rile him up.

he slaps your ass hard, grabbing onto your skin. he grinds against your clothed pussy and he enjoys the way you gasp, biting your lip hard.

you wanted him but you knew better than to beg, he was in control and you were going to take everything he had to give you.

he doesn’t give you a warning or any time to adjust, thrusting his cock into you hard and fast. the initial stretch always shocks you

“that’s it baby, fuck” he grunts, “this is what you wanted, isn’t it whore?”

you moan louder, hands placed flat against the glass window. the thought of people across the building seeing you like this made you clench harder around him.

“yeah you did” he scoffs, slapping your cheek before grabbing your jaw, “filthy slut”

“for you” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut tightly

“better be” he grins, grip on your hips tightening as he fucks into you harder. your cheek stings from the slap but you knew your safe word and you still felt perfectly fine to continue.

“i’m close” you whine, “please”

“yeah?” he stops moving, bringing his hand up to wrap around your neck, “wanna cum?”

“satoru!” you gasp, eyes widening when he won’t let you move on your own. your orgasm ripped away from you almost as fast as it was coming.

“that’s my name baby” he smirks, “what’s wrong?”

he likes watching you pout, eyes tearing up from frustration. you’re so pretty, even like this and he can’t get enough of you even if he wanted to.

“please” you whine, pushing your hips back as much as you can with his tight grip and he slaps your ass hard.

“please what?” he raises a brow, “you can do better than that can’t you?”

“please toru, i wanna cum” you moan, “please, need you”

he grins and begins grinding his hips, his cock pressing right up against your sweet spot but he doesn’t move any faster than that. he was going to take his time until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“we’re gonna restart” he tells you, “slowly, don’t rush”

“we’ve got all night” he kisses your temple

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phisen · 1 month

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Evanescence

[ Human Alastor x reader reincarnated ]

CHAPTER 1: ONSET

It is in the early 1900's when you were born. As a child, your parents noticed that you always tend to pick up things rather quickly. From cooking, doing the chores, even picking up reading and writing faster than your peers. This convinced them that you are a born genius in the family, and that this is a blessing from God.

That is the first time you saw them smile at you proudly.

You really tried to act like a normal kid. But if you're given the choice to play and interact with other kids or helping out in the house, you'll pick the latter. Your body needs to get used to chores, and you do missed eating the foods you liked before you died on your first life.

You blamed your cravings on that decision. Does a child's body crave for something that it haven't tasted yet?

The slightly concerned look they had from your decision vanished when you made a tray of donuts, with the help of your mother of course. Bless her protective and gentle personality.

The house was filled with warmth and laughter every day, which soothed your little heart. As the day's went by, you realized that you had come to love them. Not a shocker. You have a protective but gentle mother who taught you how to act like a lady, but lets you indulge in those tasty sweets that you make for the family.

And then there's your stern looking dad who is a big teddy bear behind closed doors. He's more understanding than he looks, and when he gave you that award winning dimple smile, you found yourself smiling back.

That smile never fails to make your mother blush though. Totally understandable, since he already got the personality and looks to boot. You gave your mother a knowing smile each time it happened.

Then came their discussions about your future. You heard them arguing one night when they thought you were asleep. You crept near the slightly jar door where their voices became clearer.

They are torn if you will become just like your mother who devoted herself to becoming a housewife, and having a profession for yourself. They are worried since women in the workforce tend to be belittled, and that's not the worst of it.

However, you remain calm. You know what happened to women who break from the expectations of society.

But this is the 1900s. You have the knowledge of things that are not invented yet. You can make or break history just by doing something out of the ordinary.

Do you feel scared at the knowledge that you hold?

Yes.

Would you take advantage of it?

Definitely.

Honestly, you don't know if you still lived in the same world you once were in. You tried asking your father for the morning paper once he was finished reading it, and it doesn't help a lot since the paper only talks about mundane topics.

You poured your attention to the collection of books your father have on the bookshelves. By the end of summer, you finished reading a whole shelf.

When you reached 5 years old, your parents sent you to school. Having to interact with kids your age is something you need to adjust yourself to, since you always spend your time burying your nose into books and helping your parents.

By the end of the week, the teacher's praised your works, casually hinting to your parents to bump you up a class to which they agreed.

After a month, you are moved into a higher class, which means interacting with older kids.

You thought that the kids in the upper classes would be less rowdy since they are older, but you've been given a rude awakening the moment you stepped out of the classroom.

Someone dumped a pail of water on your form, soaking you wet. The kids laughed at you, but you payed them no mind and instead walked away, leaving the mess they created and the crowd who witnessed the whole event.

When your parents asked what happened when you got back home soaked, you innocently told them what happened.

"My new classmates dumped a bucket of water on me. I think it's their way of accepting me in their class. I think it's sweet." you said with a big shit eating grin

You ignore the way the other kids looked at you when you returned in the classroom, keeping your head held high.

You may or may not caused a food fight between the ones who poured water on you during break time in the cafeteria, which caused the other students to join in once a stray apple was thrown to the face of another student.

Which led to the teachers to try and stop them, but ended up fighting amongst themselves when a random teacher you didn't know used the chaos to slap a pie on the face of your homeroom teacher, shouting about how she was seen with her husband one weekend.

It was amusing to see a bunch of adults fighting valiantly by using trays as shields and overturned tables as their bases.

Which led to the principal walking in the cafeteria to diffuse the situation after he heard about the disarray happening.

You stared at the shiny locks of hair he has, amazed that he doesn't have white hair yet even if he was in his 70s.

You heard rumors that he's wearing a wig, and even if you're hiding under the safety of your lunch table, you can definitely confirm that it is a wig.

Hm.

Now to find someone who has the balls to pull that off his head.

Oh, who are you kidding? You're the only one who has the balls to do that since you're an adult trapped inside of a child's body. And you wouldn't dare do that and sully the reputation of your beloved parents who love you to the moon and back, won't you?

After a few months, news went by that the principal indeed does wear a wig, judging by the clump of hair attached at the top of the flagpole in front of the school.

The metamorphosis of children to rebellious teens are indeed refreshing to bask in.

#human alastor x reader #alastor x oc #oc

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eccentric-nucleus · 4 months

Text

sorry i'm still posting about progression fantasies

anyway one story i've been reading and actually enjoying is super supportive.

this got long so i'm putting it behind a readmore.

the setup: it's 2040. aliens contacted humans in the 1960s and were like "hey we'll give you superpowers and magic technology and access to our multiworld government. all you have to do is sign this contract. its fine. just, all the superpowered people are our property and we can summon them up as servants whenever we want to do whatever we want. you'll be obligated to provide some humans to do this. we'll pick who gets superpowers and no they cannot refuse. its fine." one other alien is like "it would be more easier if i explained (the my boss, the alien) that your friend was your pet or your property b/c 'friends' isn't really a reasonable category for them."

the degree to which the aliens are, you know, clearly and obviously taking advantage of humans cannot be understated in the initial chapters. there are supervillains too, and the aliens are just like, yeah we don't care if they murder some humans it's fine. there's a lot of intentionally-jarring narration about characters with skills going between "powerful superhero" and "forcibly-conscripted alien valet" depending on whether they're talking about their image vs. what they actually do. plenty of heroes get summoned out into the universe and are then never heard from again. the secretary at the alien consulate the main character goes to is a prisoner/slave who is under a geas so strong that he can't express food preferences. there's a short little aside about how "stat boosts" to your "appeal" stat also involve mental manipulation to make you more personable and agreeable, and yes yes technically forced mental manipulation usually isn't allowed according to the alien contract but by selecting points in appeal you implicitly consent to it! and yes you could technically say, every time you want to (or are forced by class requirements to) put points in appeal that you don't want any of the mental stuff but really that's just being stubborn and digging your heels in and people won't like that. etc.

it kinda reminded me of uhhh becoming alien in that it is about a human going "wow cool scifi adventure!" and then slowly realizing that the political & bureaucratic structures in play basically make it a meat grinder for idealists. that's fun.

anyway so it's a little jarring when we get introduced to some of the high-powered alien paladin-wizards and they're all perfectly noble and self-sacrificing. or, there's (to me) a very noticeable point in the story where it shifts from Initial Premise mode into This Is A Long-Running Serial mode, and it kinda jettisons some of the existing tensions so it can introduce new concepts. story elements that were introduced early on and connected to hazy, unclear corners of the worldbuilding get resolved in a way that sidelines them (like e.g., alden's gremlin stops being so much a thing with a story connection and a mystery around it to mostly just being a power he has. "hey why does this make me better at wordchains?" gorgon: "weird it's more fragmentary than i thought; it isn't supposed to do that; well, w/e")

i mean yes it is in-progress and it's clearly setting up for the eventual fallout of alden's whole pseudo-knight thing getting revealed (probably like another 100 chapters on), but i would be shocked if any of the actual knights objected to it in a meaningful sense + we have not actually seen any of the exploitative aliens we were promised with the introduction. like, ro-dan maybe. i'm sure artonian politics is gonna come up eventually but as it is currently a whole hunk of that was jettisoned w/ one conversation that's like "well okay maybe we do have this extremely exploitative contract system for all our resource worlds and maybe you are all effectively slave labor who can be compelled by the contract to do whatever we want but actually it's just messy political design-by-committee so it's not like they're all evil or anything. no further questions."

so like i'm sure there will eventually be a "let's talk about artonian politics" arc, probably around whenever alden's whole secret gets blown up, but the nature of serial fiction means that we're gonna be hearing about his time in superhero school for quite a while.

(long-running progression fantasy serials have these two moves that show up again and again. the "let's do a dungeon-crawl" arc and the "let's go to magic school arc". just like, these enormous filler arcs that don't really do much aside from consume the word quota for a while. i mean, super supportive's superhero school section is fine; it's more engaging than most. given the initial concept of the story it's both inevitable and also a natural part of the whole narrative; it's not shoehorned in. i'm just saying, it's an extremely common narrative chunk to throw into all sorts of progression fantasy stuff for no reason. it was very funny when i went to look up what books 3 and 4 of sporemageddon/spores and sorcery were, and the answer was: all of book 3 is a dungeon crawl arc where the only important or interesting thing happens at the very end; all of book 4 is a magic school arc where the only important or interesting thing... actually i don't think anything really happens the entire book. the mc assassinates some people b/c that was the entire point of going to magic school and then they leave and it's like oh okay this could've been a one-paragraph summary of doing a job for the union. anyway this is a tangent.)

anyway i think super supportive is already like 500k words or something so maybe by the time it hits a million words i will have been exhausted by the premise and be done with it. but maybe not!! it's been okay so far!!

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bitletsanddrabbles · 1 year

Text

Island Sandbox: Miniature Barking Whales

Another thing for @alex51324 and the Island! I now have TWO things that need editing and transferring to Ao3! Go me!

Blame for this one goes to @o-rchidae and the picture of seals in the Hebrides...

It had stopped raining. What’s more, it looked like it might not start up again for an hour or so. Taking advantage of the good weather, Thomas decided to take a bit of a stroll and stretch his legs. Lighting a cigarette, he thought a moment, then headed out toward the Point. There wasn’t really anything out there, except for Lord Hexham’s cottage, and he didn’t think he’d walk the entire way, but there was a bluff (at least he thought that was the proper name) falling away to the sea that provided a rather nice view. It seemed the safest way to relax without risking someone coming up and asking him questions or trying to press gang him into a community event. The worst that could happen was that he ran across someone else taking a stroll.

He wandered down the path at a leisurely pace, listening to the shore birds and absently pondering the business of the town. Hugh and James planned on getting married that weekend. He wondered if the weather would hold. Of course, they’d be married in the church, but even that was more pleasant if the weather was nice. If nothing else, the building was a bit drafty. The same could not be said of the Main House - that was just crowded. Even with his own room he was getting a bit antsy to move out. A cottage would be beyond his means, and he’d yet to settle on anyone to step out with himself (there were options, of course, but every time he tried weighing them he wound up second guessing himself), but perhaps the others wouldn’t mind if he moved into the flat above the Beacon. There would be advantages, having someone on hand all hours, surely, although he didn’t really fancy the idea of someone waking him up at midnight because they’d thought of a last minute addition to this week’s issue. He’d have to be adamant about the shop’s ‘Closed’ sign.

“Thomas! Oi, Thomas!” Gordon’s voice jarred him out of his thoughts, calling him back to reality. The younger man was standing a way’s off, waving him over excitedly. Once it was clear he’d been seen, he added, “I think there’s a group of whales down on the rocks!”

Thomas frowned at that and started walking over. Gordon was standing on the edge of the bluff, not close enough to risk a tumble down the steep rocks, but plenty close to see the shoreline. Once he was within ear shot, Thomas pointed out, “I don’t think whales lay on rocks, Gordon. Whale’s are fish.” He rethought that. Hadn’t he read some sort of argument about that when he was younger? The scientists saying they weren’t actually fish, but most people not listening? “Or, well, they’re like fish at any rate.” He certainly couldn’t see the difference.

Gordon frowned at him, then looked down the rocky face of the bluff. “What’re those then?”

Cautiously, Thomas walked up next to him and looked down. This close to the water there was a good, stiff breeze, even with the clear sky, and while he didn’t think a good gust would send them over, it wasn’t worth the risk. It took him a moment to see what the younger man was looking at, but then something caught his eye. “Oh, no, those are seals.”

Gordon tilted his head and frowned. “Wot’s the difference?”

“Well, seals can come up on land, for one,” Thomas pointed out. Then he had to stop and think, because honestly, he didn’t really know a lot about the subject. You might as well have asked him the difference between cats and dogs - he knew, of course, but explaining was difficult. “And seals are a lot smaller. Whales are huge, like the size of a small boat.”

“Wot, like the supply boat?” Gordon stared at him, disbelieving.

“At least. I think some of the larger ones might be bigger than that. But they aren’t as big as one of the really big ships, the ones that go across the ocean.” Thomas was fairly certain he’d gotten that right. He knew that whaling ships, for instance, were larger than the whales they caught, but they were also much larger than the supply boat. He definitely got the feeling that actual whales were in between. “And I don’t know that whales make any noise. Seals sort of bark.”

Gordon looked back down at the greyish shapes beneath them. “Like dogs?”

“Sort of like, yes.”

“What do they do?”

Thomas shrugged, dropping the fag end of his cigarette. “Not much, I don’t think. They swim and eat fish and lay about on rocks, like that.” He gestured at the base of the cliff. “And people make hats and coats out of their fur.” He frowned again, thinking. “I think people eat them, in some places.”

“They don’t look like they’d taste very good,” Gordon frowned, wrinkling his nose. “I mean, they look awful fat.”

“So do pigs. Doesn’t stop you from eating bacon.”

“No, but if they taste like bacon, wouldn’t everyone eat them?”

“I suppose,” Thomas had to concede the point.

About that time, one of the seals barked. The sound echoed up the bluff and made Gordon jump. “That’s wot they sound like?”

“It is.”

“’S like a swimming dog,” the younger man proclaimed, echoing Thomas’s earlier assessment on the sound. “It really is.”

Thomas shrugged. “I told you.”

“I know you did, I just…” Gordon rocked back on his heels a bit and cast a puzzled look down toward the water. “It’s sort of different, hearing it like that.”

A crunching noise behind them drew Thomas’s attention and he turned to find Lord Hexham walking up behind them. The aristocrat smiled in greeting. “Good afternoon. Sorry if I’m interrupting, but I couldn’t help being curious. Is there something interesting down there?”

“Just a group of seals,” Thomas replied. “Gordon hadn’t seen them before.”

“Oh, charming!” With a broad smile, Lord Hexham moved up on Thomas’s free side and peered down. Reaching into the satchel he normally carried with him, he came up with a notebook and a graphite pencil. Balancing the notebook on his arm, he started doing a very loose sketch of the scene below. “I’ve always had a fondness for seals. It was one of the few things I missed in Tangiers.”

“Don’t they have seals in Morocco then?” It was the first Thomas had heard of it, but there again he didn’t really take an interest.

“They had seals, but they were different.” The aristocrat paused, peering down at the lounging wildlife, then going back to his sketch. “They didn’t have the spots, and they just aren’t the same without them, don’t you know?”

“I suppose they wouldn’t be.” That was another thing Thomas had never spared a thought for.

“Did they have whales?” Gordon asked, with the usual lack of deference he showed everyone.

Fortunately, Lord Hexham wasn’t much of one to stand on ceremony. If having a street urchin treat him as an equal had ever bothered him (and Thomas figured it had to have, at least in the beginning), he’d done a good job of not showing it. Now he simply replied, “Oh yes. Whales, dolphins, they were common sights if you went out on the water.”

“Wot’s a dolphin?” Gordon asked, frowning down at the seals as if they could somehow tell him the difference better than the man on the shore.

After a moment’s deliberation and sketching, Lord Hexham said, “They’re like whales only smaller. They also have a sort of beaky looking snout, and they jump a lot more.”

That got Gordon’s attention. “Whales jump? ‘Ow?”

“I’m not entirely certain,” the aristocrat admitted. “That is, they don’t have legs and there’s nothing for them to push off against. But it’s sort of like salmon at a weir, don’t you know?” He looked at Gordon, then rethought that. “Or, no, I suppose you wouldn’t know.” He thought another minute, then tried again, “They sort of throw themselves out of the water in an arching motion. Whales only do it occasionally. Normally you just see their backs as they come up, blow water out of their blow holes, and go back down. Dolphins get quite active.”

Thomas watched Gordon try and digest that bit of information. Then a thought occurred to him. “Is there a book in one of the libraries about sea life? There might be pictures.” Gordon’s reading skills weren’t up to snuff, although they’d gotten their hands on a couple of primers. He was more than able to look at pictures, though. And if the book explained why whales weren’t fish, then someone else could explain that to him.

Lord Hexham paused in his sketching, obviously trying to remember if he’d seen such a thing. “I’d be surprised if there weren’t. I don’t remember exactly what we’ve had sent over, but I know there were several requests for scientific volumes. Mr. Braceridge was especially keen to have books on nature available, although a lot of that was trees and birds. Still, it seems there should be something about sea life.” With a sheepish grin he added, “The closest I remember seeing, though, was a collection of folk lore. There was at least one story about selkies.”

“Wot’s a selkie?” Gordon half-demanded, his jaw starting to jut out. Apparently he’d had about as much new terminology as he could take in a day.

Figuring that even on an island like this there was only so much impudence a Marquess should be expected to stand (and allowing that Lord Hexham was rather nice, for a toff), Thomas explained that one. “They’re a sort of fairy. The stories say that they swim around all day looking like seals, but at night they take off their seal skins and turn into pretty ladies who dance around naked on shore. If you could make off with their skin, they had to marry you, but if they ever found their skin they’d leave forever.” Thomas had frequently wondered why there were never any male selkies, but he figured that had to do with who was telling the stories.

Gordon looked unimpressed. “Why would they dance around naked?”

Thomas shrugged. “Probably because the seal skins were their only clothes, and it’d hard to dance when you’re a seal? Anyway, it’s not real. It’s just a story, probably to explain why sailors came back from sea to find their wives run off.”

“I always thought it was a warning against coercing someone into marrying you,” Lord Hexham countered mildly. “After all, fisher’s wives are generally given a choice. Selkies never are.”

“I suppose you have a point.”

Gordon looked down at the seals. “So those aren’t selkies then?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “No, they aren’t. And if they are, they’re safe dancing. No interest in making naked women marry you on this island.”

To his surprise, Lord Hexham added in, “And even if there were male selkies, I don’t see it working out. After all, the doctors would make you both go through counseling before the wedding.”

#downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #island of the gays #fanfiction of fanfiction #thomas barrow #peter pelham #terrance gordon #seals

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alexanderossis · 2 years

Note

Ooo!! Could you write a post Zandervoort fix it for Britcedes please? Maybe George thinking Lewis is mad at him and Lewis reassuring him that he isn’t, maybe George has read some of the things on twitter and is upset that Lewis’ fans and friends are annoyed with him?

hello! sorry this took a bit, it's long. but thank you for prompting this, I was going to write one anyway and this gave me the kick to do it. Hope it's what you were looking for.

George doesn’t exactly hide after the race ends in Zandvoort… he just makes a very conscious effort to avoid Lewis at all times. He’s pretty sure he did nothing wrong, or at least he was until the cool-down room where Max very bluntly says “mate, I didn’t think you had the guts to do that” and then the media starts asking him questions and he realizes that Lewis wasn’t on the soft tyres, and wasn’t given the option to stop.

He knew he was faster than Lewis, that much was obvious when he narrowly avoided driving into the back of his boyfriend’s car, but he hadn’t realized that he had argued for an advantage and gotten it.

The champagne that Max and Charles pour over him feels like shame, regret and betrayal as it runs down his back. He absolutely does not look for Lewis in the crowd or during media.

The podium position feels as uncomfortable as the sticky champagne that dries between his fireproofs and his skin. Normally he would go to Lewis’ driver room and they would wind down together, slowly showering off the sweat and dirt from the race before they would inevitably be told to hurry up and get to the briefing.

But he’s spoken to enough people since the race ended to have heard about Lewis’ radio messages, about his unusually harsh reaction to the decision, to George’s decision, that he can’t bring himself to face the man he loves.

He showers alone in his own driver’s room and the extra time allows him to scroll through his social media and Lewis isn’t the only one with harsh words apparently. Every other mention of his name reveals comments saying that he ruined Lewis’ race, stole his win from him, hates being Lewis’ teammate, is not really that great of a driver.. it goes on and on and George can’t stop scrolling.

He’s jarred out of his doom scrolling when someone knocks on his door to tell him to go to the briefing. He doesn’t respond, can’t respond, not when the thoughts are circling, spiraling, pushing him towards an edge he hasn’t seen for a long time.

“George?” The voice calls out again, knocking louder.

His legs aren’t working, it’s like he’s glued to the chair. He has to go, he knows he has to go. If the team is mad at him already for ruining Lewis’ race, they’ll be twice as mad if he’s late to the briefing. Lewis will be twice as mad…

That thought forces him into a standing position and he makes it to the door.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he nearly barrels over the poor person at the door.

He follows her silently up the stairs of the Mercedes garage, and when he reaches the glass meeting room, everyone is waiting. Waiting for him.

He mumbles another apology and keeps his eyes trained on the floor as he walks past Lewis and Toto, taking his seat opposite his boyfriend.

When he finally meets Lewis’ gaze, he’s met with a puzzled look. There’s a fire behind his eyes still, even though he’s giving off a much calmer demeanour. But George still doesn’t know what to think, and all he can do is brace himself for the end.

George is never late. George never skips their post-race rituals. George never ignores his texts.

George is doing all of those things and Lewis is terrified.

He knows that George didn’t mean to undercut him, didn’t mean to end up on the faster tyres, didn’t mean for Lewis to lose the race. It was easy to blame him, too easy for the fans it seemed. But Lewis knew that it was the team’s strategy that had cost him the race, not his boyfriend’s clever decision to go for the soft tyres. If anything, he was proud of George. He would have done the same.

He had planned to tell George as much, planned to lick his skin soaked with champagne, planned to get on his knees in the shower and show him just how smart he thought George was. But George never came.

For a while, Lewis waited, sweat-soaked suit sticking to his body. He never showered without George after a race anymore. But then it started to get closer to the time for the debrief and if he doesn’t shower soon, he’ll be late.

So, he stands under the warm water and panics.

After a few minutes, his brain reminds him that panicking isn’t a good use of his energy and he lets himself sink into a brief meditation, calming his breathing, focusing on how to get the most out of the briefing.

But then he goes to the briefing and George still isn’t there and the panicked, uneasy feeling is back.

A few minutes past their start time, George finally appears. He doesn’t meet Lewis’ eyes but Lewis can tell something is wrong. He’s shaking, eyes trained on the floor, only offering Toto and him a fleeting glance before settling into his chair.

When George finally meets his gaze, Lewis isn’t surprised to see that his usually clear blue eyes are pale and watery. George worries his bottom lip with his teeth and Lewis aches to reach over and run a soothing hand down his partner’s cheek. But, this is a business meeting, so he instead gives George a concerned look and turns to the front as Toto starts to speak.

George nods in all of the right places, thanks the right people and as soon as he’s free to go, bolts. He gulps the fresh air into his lungs, feeling as if he hadn’t taken a single breath throughout the entire hour-long briefing.

No one explicitly said that they were mad at him, Lewis included. But that really did nothing to calm his nerves.

He takes the long way back to his room, hoping he can avoid Lewis and any other straggling employees who want to talk about the race. He meets no one, letting out a sigh of relief as he pushes open his door.

His relief is cut short when he’s met with all 5 foot 9 inches of his boyfriend in the doorway. Lewis’ toned arms are crossed against his chest and even though George towers over him, he looks intimidating.

George shuffles past him awkwardly and Lewis shuts the door behind them.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Lewis speaks first, his calm voice breaking slightly through George’s panic.

“Not really,” George runs a hand through his hair and looks away. “I mean, sort of.”

Lewis doesn’t respond, only studies George’s shivering figure.

“I’m sorry,” George volunteers but Lewis says it at the same time.

“For what?” Lewis responds but George says it too and they both let out a small giggle.

“Okay,” Lewis speaks, and this time it’s just him. “I think you should sit down before you pass out, and we’ll talk about this. One at a time.”

George goes to the couch and his body nearly gives out as he collapses onto it, gripping the nearby pillow tightly. He wants to tell Lewis to sit next to him, wants Lewis’ touch to ground him. But he still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Lewis to yell or storm out or something, anything.

Except, his brain helpfully supplies, Lewis just apologized to him.

“Wait,” George frowns, “did you say that you’re sorry?”

Lewis sits on the chair opposite him, palms facing upwards on his knees.

“Yes?” he responds, tilting his head to consider his boyfriend.

“Why are you apologizing? You did nothing wrong.”

“Neither did you!”

George raises his eyebrows, “I did everything wrong.”

“George-”

“I ruined your race. I was selfish. I chose the soft tyres, I didn’t want to lose the race.” He’s losing control of his breathing now, shaking hands gesturing, “I took away your chance. And everyone knows it.”

“George,” Lewis says again, standing up from the chair.

He’s leaving you, George thinks and he’s seconds from dropping to his knees to beg Lewis for forgiveness. To make him stay.

But Lewis settles on the couch next to him. He grabs George’s hands, frozen in mid-explanation, and holds them, tattooed thumbs rubbing soft circles across George’s pale skin.

“Can you breathe for me?” Lewis’s voice is soft, quiet against the rush in George’s brain.

He really, desperately, wants to breathe. He wants to be good for Lewis. But everything feels stuck.

“Oh, baby.” Lewis breathes and George breaks.

“Please don’t break up with me,” it comes out in a rush, “please, I won’t do it again.”

Once the words are out, he feels like he can breathe again, air rushing into his lungs so fast he’s panting.

Lewis uses his grasp on George’s hands to pull the taller man towards him, letting George fall against his chest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lewis murmurs, strong hands rubbing soothing strokes on George’s back. “But I’m not leaving you. And nothing you do on the track could ever make me go anywhere.”

George tilts his head slightly from where it’s pressed against Lewis’ solid form and meets his gaze.

“Can I say my part now?” Lewis asks.

George nods, tucking his head back down.

“I’m sorry that I yelled on the radio,” Lewis sighs, “I’m so embarrassed. And I should have come and found you after and celebrated with you.”

“Why-” George goes silent with a look from the older man.

“My turn to talk, Georgie. Anyway, what you did out there, was exactly what you were supposed to do.”

His hands still against George’s frame, “It’s hard for me to say in the moment but, I’m not the team. We’re both here to secure the win for Mercedes. You made the right choice, you got the podium. I couldn’t ask for anything else.”

“But it could have been your first win of the season.”

“No,” Lewis shakes his head, “I didn’t have the right tyres.”

“I could have held Max back-”

“I honestly don’t know that you could have.”

George bites his lip before responding, “everyone told me it was my fault. That you could have won if I hadn’t asked for softs.”

“Who said that?” Lewis’ brow furrows, “I didn’t hear anyone say that in the briefing.”

To be honest, George wasn’t exactly listening in the briefing but he says, “on social.”

“On social?” Lewis shifts suddenly, reaching for his phone on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” George mumbles into Lewis’ hoodie, “some fans and some of your, uh..”

“My fans?”

“Your friends,” George finishes, sending his gaze back to his feet.

There’s silence in the room again, just the buzz of Lewis’ phone as he searches.

“That’s unacceptable,” Lewis huffs when he finds what George is talking about.

“I’m sorry-” George starts.

“No, not you. God, not you. You did nothing wrong,” Lewis runs his free hand across George’s hair soothingly. “They don’t get to talk to you like that.”

A small feeling of calm settles over George for the first time since he made the call during the race.

A few minutes later, Lewis places his phone back down on the coffee table. Soft fingers cup George’s chin, tilting his face upwards to face his boyfriend.

“Okay, I emailed PR and told them that they need to deal with the comments on the Mercedes account. I can go onto your account and hide them on your profile if you’d like,” Lewis offers, “And I texted my friends and set them straight.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” George says quietly.

“Yes, I did.” Lewis huffs, leaning forward to press a kiss to George’s pout.

“Let’s make one thing very clear,” Lewis adds, brown eyes meeting George’s blue ones. “I’m not going anywhere. Got it?”

George beams, letting Lewis pepper his face with kisses. “Got it.”

“Now, Mr. Podium,” Lewis sits up, dislodging George slightly. “Why don’t we go back to the hotel and make up for that shower that we missed, hmm?”

George winks, “I can think of a few ways to celebrate.”

#f1 fic #f1 rpf #britcedes #lewis hamilton #george russell #4463 #prompts

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hanaasbananas · 10 months

Text

Power to Play Chapter 5

A series of ficlets each based off a song from the McFly album Power to Play

AO3

Prev//Next

I'm Fine

“Wh– get away from me!”

Ladybug blinked, startled as the akuma victim pushed her hand away, scrambling backwards to get away from her. All around them, the miraculous cure was doing its work, knitting everything back together and repairing the city but the woman didn’t seem to notice or even care, her eyes fixed firmly on Ladybug as she got to her feet.

The woman swayed slightly and Ladybug offered her hand again. “Ma’am are you–”

“Don’t .” The woman spat out venomously. “I don’t want your help.”

Of course she didn’t. Ladybug suppressed a sigh, her cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. She half expected to see another akuma coming their way, but the sky remained blessedly clear.

“Right. Okay then,” forcing a smile, Ladybug turned to Chat—who had been watching the exchange with a furrowed brow, his mouth drawn into a thin line. Her earrings beeped. “Chat? Will you uh..will you get this lady down safely from here? I have to go.”

“No problem, My Lady.” Chat extended his baton and addressed the woman, his voice noticeably harder. “Come now, madame.”

Not trusting herself to say anything else, Ladybug simply nodded and zipped away, trying hard to ignore the feeling of Chat’s gaze on her retreating back as her eyes burned with unshed tears.

She should have been used to it by now. Had thought that she was, but anti-Ladybug sentiment had been growing in recent months, with multiple articles and news outlets questioning her ability as a hero.

Chat Noir was her biggest defender against it all of course. Though she’d asked him to take a step back and be less vocal after he’d had a go at some people who had suggested–to her face–that she give up the mantle of Ladybug entirely, that she should pass it onto Chat Noir and ‘let real heroes sort things out’.

She had never seen him so angry. A few other outlets followed his example, trying to push back against the negativity when she herself couldn’t.

It didn’t help, however, that Hawkmoth had decided to take advantage of people's resentment of her, fanning the flames by sending more and more difficult akumas and specifically akumatising those who seemed to have a problem with her.

Generally, she tried to avoid reading anything about herself–Alya had even taken her phone and muted any and all variations of the words ‘Ladybug’, ‘Paris’ and ‘hero’ on every social media platform that she had and it had helped, but…to see such vitriol in the eyes of the people she was saving…it was still jarring and took her by surprise every time.

Ladybug sighed, her shoulders slumping as she landed in the empty backstreet behind her flat and detransformed. She would get through this. Public sentiment changed all the time– Alya had told her multiple times– and this would blow over soon, she was sure of it. In the meantime, she couldn’t let it affect her.

She wouldn’t let it affect her. She was fine. It was all fine.

Chat Noir had a large folder with him when Ladybug met him for patrol later that evening.

“What’s this?”

“How are you doing?”

They both spoke at the same time. Ignoring her question, Chat set the folder down and patted the space beside him. Slinging an arm around her shoulders when she sat down, he pulled her close and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Immediately, she felt the tension that had been thrumming through her body all day melt and Ladybug sighed contentedly.

For a long moment, they simply sat there enjoying each other's company in silence until Chat spoke. “You know, I really let that lady have it earlier for being so rude to you–”

“ Chat!”

“What?” He said defensively, pulling back to look at her. “Did you really think I wouldn’t say anything?”

Ladybug sighed, this time, for an entirely different reason. “No,” she admitted. “But you shouldn’t have.”

“Look, I know you’ve told me not to but I saw your face earlier when–”

“It just caught me by surprise, that’s all.” Ladybug interrupted. “It always does, that doesn’t mean I’m not alright.”

Chat didn’t seem convinced but she didn’t care. He didn’t need to know that she’d made two cakes and three batches of cookies that afternoon in an attempt to stop herself from wallowing in self loathing; to forget the hatred that had twisted the akuma victim's expression when she had seen her.

He definitely didn’t need to know that she’d cried for twenty minutes when one of the cakes had ended up overcooked.

“C’mon, let’s go patrol.” Ladybug rose to her feet and stepped past him.

“Ladybug.”

“I’ll go um…I’ll go this way.” Unspooling her yo-yo, she prepared to throw it when Chat grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her.

“My lady.” Chat’s voice was low. Still holding onto her wrist, he turned her gently to face him. He regarded her steadily, his green eyes soft and swimming with concern. “You can’t keep bottling this up. It’s not healthy.”

Ladybug swallowed past the lump in her throat. “What do you want me to say?” she cried out. “I have to be fine! I can’t afford not to, because what if I get akumatized? Then what?”

“Then–”

“Then we’d be screwed, that’s what! ”

Chat was staring at her, wide eyed but he did not try to interrupt, standing quietly as Ladybug pulled herself out of his grasp and began pacing back and forth. Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop. The dam had finally burst, and a torrent of words poured uncontrollably from her mouth.

“And–and I don’t know what they want from me–it’s like they’re just waiting for me to explode so they have another reason to hate me and I just…I have to be fine because otherwise they’ll know that they’re getting to me and get worse!

“You know, –sometimes I just want to shake these people and yell at them that I’m trying my best ! Why can’t they see that?

“I wish I could just get mad and say fuck you to all of them, you know? All those people going on panels and dissecting every fight like they’re somehow perfect and would have done better!” She scoffed. “I’d like to see them try to do what I do every day.”

Breathing heavily, Ladybug looked back towards Chat, startled to see that he had moved to stand right behind her.

“C’mere.” He enveloped her in a hug. Wrapping her arms around his waist, Ladybug closed her eyes and let herself relax in his embrace. They stood like that for a while until Chat pulled back slightly to look down at her fondly. He was smiling. “Feeling better?” He asked.

“I–” Ladybug paused. She was surprised to realise how much lighter she felt after her outburst, how the weight seemed to have lifted from her chest. “Yeah, actually. I am.”

Chat shook his head ruefully, gesturing to the discarded folder at his feet. “And here I thought we’d have to set fire to all these articles–” he wrinkled his nose, “no, they aren’t articles, more like rag pieces. Whatever–point is I thought it might be cathartic to–”

“To burn them?”

“I mean…” Chat shrugged “I don’t think we need to now. Unless…” his raised his eyebrows, expression mischievous. “You want to do it?”

Ladybug was already reaching for the folder. Laughter was bubbling up in her chest–the first genuine cheerfulness she had felt in a long time. “ Absolutely.”

#banana writes 🍌#ml fanfic #ladynoir #miraculous ladybug #it only took 5 chapters for me to get angsty lmaoo #but also i love this song bc its so sad and angsty and also DOUGIE SINGS IT #the acoustic version of the song is actually now my go to 'lying on the floor staring at the ceiling and cry time' song

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separatist-apologist · 2 years

Text

Right Where You Left Me

If our love died young, I can't bear witness

Chapter 8: You Hit Me Like a Hurricane

Summary: Lucien's stupid fucking penis

When it rained, it poured. Elain was midway through the breakfast rush when a familiar face strolled through her door. Graysen Nolan. He worked at the bank his father owned and when he did come by, he always came in a navy suit. Neatly coiffed, short brown hair that was a near match for his tawny eyes and a rather handsome face always garnered Graysen a lot of attention.

Just not from her. Elain had been turning him down for as long as he’d been coming around for all the good it did her.

Now, though….now she was supposed to go on a date with Lucien, assuming he ever came back. He’d been gone for three weeks wrapping up a case and though he face timed with Ivy each night, Elain still had no idea when he’d return. Maybe, she reasoned, as Graysen made his way to the front of the line, what she needed was a side-by-side comparison of both men.

“Hey you,” he grinned.

“The usual?” she asked. Graysen always had a soy milk latte.

“You remembered,” he all but crooned. “Can I have one of the blueberry muffins, too? And a date, while you’re at it? Tonight, seven o clock? I’ll pick you up.”

“Does that ever work?” she asked, walking to the case to pick out his muffin.

“We’re about to find out,” Graysen replied cheerfully. “Come on. Don’t reject me in front of Doris,” he added conspiratorially at the elderly woman watching the two of them with eager eyes.

“Aright. Tonight, seven. But only to spare your ego.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Graysen grinned, paying quickly. “I’ll meet you right out front.”

“He’s handsome,” Doris told Elain too loudly, earning an easy grin thrown over Graysen’s shoulder…and a scowl from Eris Vanserra at the very end of the line.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Eris interrupted, five customers back. “Is he really that handsome if he doesn’t bother to tip?”

“Oh, you hush,” Maureen ordered, poking Eris in the stomach. Elain turned back to her customers, dreading Eris’s slow approach. Taking advantage of his position as the last person in line,

Eris leaned his elbows on the counter, stretching his long, lean body.

“If you’re trying to bring Lucien home early, this is a good way to do it,” Eris began casually as Elain worked on his coffee.

“This has nothing to do with Lucien,” Elain said quickly. “And it’s none of your business.”

“No, I suppose not…though who is watching my niece tonight?”

“Not you,” Elain shot back, sliding his cup across the counter. “So don’t worry about it.”

Eris jammed his usual twenty in her tip chair, holding her gaze as if to make a point. Most of her patrons tipped, even if it was just a few coins tossed in the jar but it wasn’t an expectation. Besides, not everyone carried cash on them. She didn’t have a set up for tipping on a card. Not yet, anyway.

“No, but my mother?”

“Your not girlfriend Arina, actually,” Elain replied, digging in that knife. Eris had been trying so hard with Arina and getting absolutely nowhere. “Your family doesn’t have a monopoly on my daughter.”

“No, just half her genes.”

“Go away, Eris.”

“This is going to blow up in your face. The Nolans are a different breed, Elain.”

“Well, you’d know,” she all but sneered.

“He’s not going to be nice like Lucien—”

“How do you know Lucien is nice?” Elain interrupted, hands on her hips. Eris rolled his eyes.

“Because I grew up with him dragging around his little baby dolls and I see his puppy eyes every time he sees you. Also, and most importantly, Lucien is nice. Just barely a Vanserra at all, if we’re being honest. All the charm, none of the grit.”

“Maybe if you had less grit and more charm, Arina would let you take her on a date,” Elain offered sweetly. Eris scowled.

“Arina’s days are numbered,” he warned. “Just like yours. I hope you two like being sisters because that’s how this will end. You, tucked away in some cozy cottage with eight more little gingers and Arina in a penthouse warming my bed.”

“That sounds like a really nice fantasy you have there, Eris,” Elain continued. “But to get a woman in your bed, she needs to like you, first.”

“She likes me,” Eris informed Elain. “You’ll see.”

“I suppose I will.”

Eris wasn’t the only one opposed to Elain and Graysen’s date. Arina strolled in after her class ended, Ivy in two, hands on her hips.

“You’re going out with Nolan?”

Elain sighed, elbows deep in bread dough. “Are we friends with Eris, now?”

Her cheeks flushed and Elain didn’t dare comment on it. “No. Of course not. He did tell me, though. What about Lucien?”

Elain wiped her forehead with her arm, ignoring the way her stomach lurched violently. “What about Lucien? He’s been gone for weeks.”

“He’s coming back,” Arina insisted, which was, perhaps, even worse. Lucien was likely up to no good. Buying a home with a pool in the backyard right by the park, researching school districts and looking for jobs. She knew what Lucien’s return meant. He’d be relentless, he’d come after her with everything he had. She just needed to know she was choosing him and not settling because it was easy.

So Elain left Ivy with Arina, showered and made herself look nice, all the while knowing what she would have done had it been Lucien promising to arrive at seven o clock. At the very least, she would have shaved her entire body. There would be no touching—over the clothes or otherwise—which made her feel particularly pressed to primp and preen.

Graysen was late. Ten minutes, to be exact. Elain sat on her front step feeling stupider by the minute in her floral sundress and her carefully curled hair. It was annoying considering she could have been in sweatpants eating in front of the television instead of trapped in a push-up bra waiting on a guy she only half-heartedly wanted to spend the night with.

Lucien wouldn’t do this.

“Oh, shut up,” she whispered to the voice that sounded suspiciously like Eris’s. Graysen rolled up in a flashy car, top down, wind in his hair.

“Hop in,” he called with a honk of his horn. Elain sighed, but did as he asked. Graysen grinned when he saw her, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

“You look amazing,” he said. “Sorry I’m running behind. Work was a mess. I was thinking we could go to my place, though? Order take out, watch a movie…get to know each other?”

Elain had to bite back a scream. None of that was a date, it was merely the night she’d intended to have but trapped in Graysen’s house.

“I have to be home by ten,” she replied.

“Oh right, your kid,” he frowned, pausing at a red light. “No worries. I’ll get you home in time.”

Oh right, your kid. The words clanged through her, leaving a sour taste in her mouth. “Her name is Ivy.”

Graysen nodded, one hand on the steering wheel. Another expensive watch, just like Lucien and Eris and every other man in her life these days, and yet Graysen’s rolled up sleeve and his posture made it seem as if he wanted her to notice it. Even Eris, who wasn’t subtle, didn’t make any kind of show when it came to his wealth.

“How old is she?”

“Five.”

“That’s a good age,” he said, taking her towards the Vanserra’s part of town. Graysen lived nearby, not in the same gated off neighborhood—no one but the Vanserra’s lived up there—but in an equally nice two story that he’d very obviously built himself. It was modern, the architecture strangely eclectic, as if he’d tried to smash together four different time periods with the beige stone, the turrets, and the bay windows. None of it was original, like the veneer of opulence with rot just beneath.

He was proud of it, though. Graysen gave Elain the full tour as he described how much it had cost him for this installation or that. The art was bland, the furniture uninspiring. She thought of her own house and the bright colors and the plants and the maximalism compared to Graysen’s minimalism and knew he would have hated seeing how she lived.

“How does Thai sound?” he asked once they were in his massive, open kitchen. Elain almost offered to cook something just to use his fancy glass top stove and the silver pots hanging over the range. She didn’t want to give him any ideas, not when this date was already a cover for fucking. He’d put in no effort and after a year of asking her out, Elain just assumed he’d be more interested.

She guessed, judging by how Graysen hung his suit jacket over the edge of a bar chair, that most women didn’t ask him to. Good looks could get you everywhere. “How’s your bakery doing?” he asked after a moment, leaning over the counter to really look at her.

Elain slid her phone from her pocket, ignoring the missed call from Lucien to pull up Eris’s name.

“It’s good. I love it.”

Maybe you were right. Can you pick me up?

“You’re always busy,” he agreed. “It's intimidating. I hope you don’t mind but I peeked at your financials….you bought the bakery from us…in cash?”

“In cash,” she agreed coolly, immediately annoyed. He didn’t register the tone.

“Impressive. You don’t turn much of a profit, though. I could help with that.”

“I’m alright,” Elain replied. Graysen reached for her hand as her phone lit up in the other.

I’m ALWAYS right. Where are you?

He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Well, I’m around. I like to help.”

“I appreciate that,” she lied. She was starting to not appreciate any of it at all. “Do you want to maybe go out, tonight?”

Graysen’s eyebrows raised. “Go out? Why?”

“A date…it’s just…this feels like a hook-up,” she finally told him, her stomach churning again. She was going to throw up though she couldn’t explain why. The sudden, overwhelming nausea made her feel too hot, too sensitive. She didn’t want his hand on her, didn’t want to be standing in heels.

“It’s a little of both,” Graysen said wolfishly. “I figured you’d be down.”

Because she already had a kid. He didn't need to say why he figured she’d be down—Elain had heard it before. She must be easy, must always want to fuck because they had proof she’d done it before. Perhaps worse was always the underlying assumption she should be grateful for the interest at all, as if no one would want her outside of wanting an easy lay.

“Oh.”

At Graysen’s house.

“It’s cool if you’re not,” he amended hastily. “We can just chill, see where the night takes us.”

“Can I have a glass of water?” she asked, trying to swallow against her urge to break down crying.

Graysen pulled a bottle of water from his nice fridge. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she lied, gulping down the cold water. “It’s been a long day, I guess.”

“For real,” he agreed. “I hope you don’t think—”

Loud, furious thumping on his front door interrupted whatever he’d meant to say. Graysen scowled.

“What the fuck is up with these delivery drivers?”

Elain trotted after Graysen, well aware it wasn’t Thai food but Eris Vanserra on the other side, grinning like an asshole when the door was yanked open.

“What did I tell you about people who don’t tip, Elain?” he chided by way of greeting? “This place is fucking ugly, by the way. I didn’t know people paid money for McMansions still…it’s very…two thousand tens, I think.”

“What are you doing here?” Graysen demanded as Elain slipped from beneath his arm.

“I’ve come to rescue my sister,” he replied. “She thought you wanted to take her somewhere, not paw at her like a bear.”

“Your sister?”

“Yeah, you heard me. Sister,” Eris’s amusement faded to ice. “So I’d consider your next words with exceptional care.”

Graysen said nothing at all, merely slammed the front door in both Elain and Eris’s face. Eris’s anger slipped back into amusement.

“I’ll have you know, your daughter and I were playing hide and seek when you called in this rescue,” Eris grumbled, walking her down the immaculate hedged lined sidewalk to his sleek, black car.

“With Arina?”

“Yes, Elain. With Arina,” Eris said, yanking open her door with a relish. “I like kids, you know. I want one…probably just one, actually.”

Eris snapped the door shut, a reminder of truly how low the bar was when it came to romance. “Leave Ivy until ten,” he murmured halfway home.

“So you can use my kid to get into Arina’s pants?”

“Because I like the excuse to spend time with her,” Eris replied with a surprising amount of emotion. Elain didn’t dare ask Eris what her he referred to. She merely slid from the leather interior of his car into the cool night air. Eris waited for her to type the code to her door before zipping into the night. She wasn’t going up—not yet.

She marched to the corner store, still nauseous, still hungry, still anxious. Filling a little basket with gingerale and snacks, Elain paused when her fingers grazed a pickle jar. She hated pickles, always had…with the notable exception of Ivy’s pregnancy. It was the sour and the salt. For whatever reason, the combination calmed her furious stomach. She’d gone back to hating the taste the moment Ivy entered the world.

Elain grabbed a jar before turning to the body care aisle. “Fuck you, Lucien,” she whispered, unable to look at the cheerful pink box as she grabbed it. They’d had unprotected sex one time, the day of his fathers funeral in the bathroom, and she’d thought he’d come on her leg, not in her body.

Overreacting. You’re just overreacting. she repeated the words over and over as she paid, as she walked home, as she went into her ocean themed bathroom and peed on that stupid fucking stick.

Elain set the test on the kitchen counter against a paper towel and went to work on her jar of pickles. It took her all of thirty seconds. The test should have taken three minutes.

“Fuck you, Lucien,” she said again, staring at that pink plus sign. “Fuck you.”

~*~

Five weeks. That was how long it took to pack up his entire life, to leave his job, and get all his belongings into a U-Haul so he could drive two states down, dump it all in storage, and move back into his childhood bedroom.

“Welcome home,” his mother crooned when Lucien woke that morning. He had only one objective—see Elain.

“Thanks. Hey, can you watch Ivy tonight? I’ve got plans with Elain.”

“What kind of plans?” his mother asked.

“After hours at the zoo kind of plans,” he said roguishly. “Called in a couple favors…and made a donation. I thought she’d like to meet the seals.”

“I’ll bet Ivy would, too,” his mother reminded him and Lucien was certain she would. This was about Elain and showing her a perfect time in a low stakes environment where she didn’t feel pressured by his penis. Though they’d been having sex, the point, he hoped, was to prove he was the sort of man she could depend on. Trust, even. Father material, husband material, the whole thing.

On his next date, if Elain wanted, they could do something as a family. Perhaps a vacation to Disneyland. Children liked Disneyland, he thought. Lucien didn’t bother calling to let Elain know he’d arrived, hoping to catch her looking messy and covered in flour, hair a mess after a late lunch rush. His favorite, he thought with a relish.

“Elain!” he called, taking the steps two at a time. It was Ivy who unlocked the front door with glee. No trace of her infection remained if the flowers woven into her braided pigtails were any indication. “Hey you!”

“Hey!” she smiled, all but launching into his arms. “Where’s mama?”

“Taking a shower.”

“Can you do me a favor? Will you go grab some clothes for Amera’s tonight?”

“Do I get to stay? Can I swim?”

“Yes and…” Lucien pretended to think before dropping her to the ground. “Yes. Go, go, go,” he added, rushing her down the hall before flinging open the bathroom door. Elain screeched, yanking back the seashelled shower curtain to look at him.

“You’ve never heard of knocking?!” she demanded, eyes sliding over his body. He’d put the nice slacks and the vest back on, well aware of how good he looked in a pair of well-tailored pants and a white button up.

“It’s not my fault if our daughter has no sense of stranger danger,” he replied cheerfully. “I missed you too, by the way.”

Elain exhaled a soft breath, her face strangely pale. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“I told you I was. I had to wrap up one last project and then I ran out the door. I’m back in my mom’s house like a total loser so I expect you to lick my wounded pride tonight.”

She groaned again. “No licking.”

He shrugged. “More for me. I’m gonna wait in your bedroom and when you’re ready, why don’t you come in and give me a show?”

Elain snapped the curtain closed. “What’s gotten into you?” she demanded. “I seem to recall a date, not some easy lay—”

“Whoa, hey, who said you were easy? I am fighting for my life in the trenches when it comes to you. I have a date planned. Ivy’s packing up as we speak. Mom is gonna watch her and I am taking you to meet some very friendly seals.”

There was a beat, and then her pale face peeking behind the curtain again. “Seals?”

“That’s right, Elain. Did you think I forgot our first date at the zoo? I got us in after hours so you can meet them, like shake their hands—”

“Shut up,” she whispered, her eyes brightening. “You did not.”

“Of course I did. And then we’ll have the finest zoo nachos money can buy and you’ll rethink your position on licking.”

Elain smiled. “We’ll see.”

She vanished for the second time to the sound of running water. Honey and jasmine filled the steamy air, sending Lucien retreating to check on Ivy. She was working on shoving a massive pink elephant into a small backpack, which suited him just fine. He meant what he’d said to Elain about the show, strolling into her neat bedroom to rifle through her underwear drawer.

Lucien dug out a lacy pink number just as his eyes snagged on a plastic bag holding a curiously familiar sight half wrapped in a paper towel. Lucien dropped the underwear to open the bag, his trembling fingers pulling out a positive pregnancy test.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered to himself. “Oh my God.”

He’d been so careful…except after Beron’s funeral. He’d been too drunk and angry to think about protection and had, he thought, done a good job pulling out. Clearly not if she was taking a pregnancy test.

“Daddy!” Ivy’s voice cut through Lucien’s frantic thoughts, prompting him to shove the test back into the bag and leave it exactly where he found it. Ivy had been testing out what she liked calling him and begun doing so over the phone. Sometimes he was Lucien—or Lulu, if she was trying to draw a reaction—and other times he was daddy. Lucien knew which he preferred, though he didn’t dare try and sway her in any one direction.

He heard the shower cut just as he stepped into her little pink bedroom, still holding that enormous elephant. “She doesn’t fit,” Ivy told him helplessly, throwing her hands in the air before collapsing to the ground in tears.

Father, you’re a father—and you will be one again. “That’s okay,” Lucien murmured, picking up the backpack filled with a mishmash of unmatched clothes and zipping it. “What if I carried her?”

Ivy blinked away her tears. “That would be good.”

He booped her nose. “See? You don’t have to cry. You take your backpack and I’ll take Ellie and we’ll let Amera deal with it all afterwards.”

Ivy wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Okay.”

Elain peered in draped in a fuzzy purple bathrobe, her hair pulled off her face. “Everything okay?”

No, he nearly screamed. Lucien offered her an easy smile. “All good.”

He’d had the zoo all planned out after endless back and forth e-mails with a woman named Emily. There was supposed to be wine—that was the first thing to go. Elain passed politely when they arrived, taking a bottle of water without fuss and Lucien, unsure what the protocol was when your oldest daughter's mother was pregnant with your child again, did the same. In truth, Lucien could have used several shots back to back.

He’d joked about nachos but he’d arranged for a nice seafood dinner and that, too, went immediately out the window. Lucien had to frantically text Emily, who was at home, to give it to anyone else. He wasn’t an expert, but he didn’t think pregnant women could eat fish. It made his joke about zoo food literal truth and, at the same time, utter misery. He’d planned a nice meal, not to watch Elain pick at a hotdog with a green expression.

His one saving grace were the seals. Elain was allowed to do more than meet—the keepers brought her right up to the edge where she could put her hand in the water and touch their rubbery little bodies. Still, Lucien was hiding his disappointment by the time he brought her back to his car, even as Elain all but bounced with each step, her cheeks bright. “Lucien, that was perfect.”

Standing in front of her car door, Lucien gaped. “Perfect?”

Elain nodded, biting her lower lip. Lucien reached for her face impulsively, kissing her before he could blurt out that he knew. Just—fuck, he was in love with her. Five weeks without her had been misery. How had he ever managed five years? She was so sweet, rising up on her tiptoes, arms around his neck, to kiss him back.

“It’s too easy to impress you,” Lucien whispered, cupping her cheek all the same.

“Try harder, then,” Elain replied, kissing him again. Lucien almost fell to his knees then, was left standing only by some otherworldly magic. He pulled open her door, checking out her side profile as she slid onto the leather. Clad in soft lilac, nothing about her seemed different. If he’d managed to get her pregnant at Beron’s funeral, that put Elain closer to seven weeks than six. Almost two months. Had it really been that long?

“Since Ivy is already at your moms, do you want to stay the night?” Elain’s voice was almost breathless when he got in the car, the back of his shirt sticky against his back.

“You’ve reconsidered, haven’t you?” Lucien teased, not daring to look at her. He was too obvious and he knew it, was betraying everything he thought, everything he felt. Elain, oblivious as she’d always been, didn’t notice.

“No. I’m too tired to have sex tonight, with all the walking…and I don’t think you want to compete for second best tonight.”

“Hurtful but fair. Do you want to get something to eat?” Babies needed to eat, right? And so did the people carrying them. Elain huffed softly, leaning her head against his chair as they drove into the night, her legs stretched into the seat well. “Something salty.”

“C’mon—now you’re just teasing me.”

Elain swatted harmlessly. “Don’t be disgusting. What about french fries?”

“I could do that.”

He stopped so Elain could order half the menu, stars in her eyes, utterly unapologetic even when Lucien shoved her hand away to keep her from trying to lean across him and pay. “Sit down,” he hissed, all but throwing his wallet at the unamused worker. “This is my date.”

“Our date,” Elain argued, for whatever it was worth. “You’re trying to trick me into having sex with you.”

“Oh please,” Lucien retorted with a roll of his eyes. “We have children, sweetheart. I can have sex with you any time I like, money or not.”

“Can not.”

“No? So that night at your place…I imagined that?”

“What night at my place?” Elain replied, digging into one of the paper bags Lucien dropped on her lap for piping hot fries. “I don’t recall any night at my pla—oh, you mean the guy who can in six second with the tiny pe–”

“That’s enough of that,” Lucien interrupted. “You’re going to wound my fragile ego.”

“I can say it because we both know it's not true.”

That just barely pacified him. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yes,” Elain admitted through a mouth filled with fries. She ate the entire rest of the drive to her place, tapering off when it was time to get out of the car.

“I ate too much,” she whispered when he pulled open her door.

“You barely ate at all,” Lucien replied. He didn’t remember any of this from the first time. Had she felt so sick? He’d been at home and at lacrosse and all the other things he’d done as a seventeen year old but Elain had also been busy. If she’d been sick, he never would have known it.

And Elain was sick, puking fries right back up mere moments after they got up the stairs. Lucien followed after her, perched on the edge of the tub to hold her mass of golden brown hair.

“Bring me the pickles,” she managed, heaving loudly a second time. Lucien grabbed a scrunchy from the sink counter and tied her hair back before stepping over her crouched body for the pickles in the fridge. Elain was hoarding them, as if she were afraid there might be a shortage. He twisted off the top before handing it to her, surprised when Elain just…took a drink.

“Is there something you need to share with me?”

She grimaced, pressing her back against the light blue wall, head half hidden beneath a barbie pink bath towel hanging from a rod.

“I’m pregnant…again.”

Relief. It was pure relief to hear her say it. Lucien joined her on the white tile floor, lifting her legs so they were sprawled over his lap, his hands rubbing her bare shins. She looked over at him with those doe eyes and he could have been fifteen beneath the bleachers all over again, holding that pregnancy test while she watched. Terrified.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered when he closed his eyes, lips pressed together. It was all just like before.

Only Beron was dead this time.

Lucien couldn’t help but laugh.

“Let’s have a baby.”

It was the second time he’d said that to her.

#elucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien fanfic #DILF LUCIEN STRIKES AGAIN #elain x lucien

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archaeopter-ace · 1 year

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Back in January I decided that my To Do list needed to be more ~tactile~, and since my new system has been working well going on four months now, I thought I’d share it here

[Image ID: a one-foot square of corkboard in a rustic brown frame, displayed flat on a surface. An eight-pointed compass rose has been painted on it in gold and dark teal, with a circle in the center left bare. At the points of the compass are tiny pins holding metal numbered circular tags in place; visible are numbers 9 through 12. Placed on top of the compass are an assortment of small objects; each object occupies no more than two halves of a point. Object include a Dirt Devil pin, a soda can tab, a yellow push pin, a frying pan and iron from a Monopolgy game, a brown fake leaf, a puzzle piece, a red carabiner, an AO3 Kudos pin, a tiny raven, and white buttons glued together with an charm-sized metal spoon. Off to one side is an upside-down 1.5 inch pot with a strawberry eraser on top. / End ID]

I painted a compass rose onto a square of cork that I had from a previous craft project (the frame is a super-lucky find from Goodwill!). Each point represents one hour, divided into half-hour increments. Number tags are used to indicate time, e.g. I set this one up to start getting things done at 9 AM. (I use a 24 hr clock, so 1 PM is represented with 13)

It only runs for 8 hours unless I go back and update it in the middle of the day, but 8 hours of being productive is enough to be getting on with, and if I don’t hit my targets, then there’s just flex time built in.

Every morning I populate my daily schedule with tokens from a pool of possibilities. And that’s one of the things I really like about this, over conventional To Do list making: I feel encouraged to vary my routine, do something different than I did the day before, give a token I like but haven’t used in a while a chance to come into play.

[Image ID: A large round wooden serving platter covered with small objects, like something out of a kid’s ‘I Spy’ book. Included are: various buttons, a tiny birdhouse charm, a mini Swedish Dala horse, LEGO Spider-Man, two disembodied hands, a 9V battery, toy Mini Cooper convertible I got out of a Kinder egg, white elephant bead, snowflake earring, plastic rat, carved wooden lion, chess piece, supermarket member token, piece of rose quartz with a wolf engraved on it, headphone, rubbed lizard, a 1 centimeter microchip, cardamon pod, fake yellow and blue flowers, plastic shapes, mini halogen bulb, pizza charm, brown glass apothecary jar, and an antique toy refrigerator for a dollhouse. / end ID]

The advantages I have found to using this system:

No red-text OVERDUE designation like on some to do list apps. I get done what I can and that’s good enough. And unlike when I was writing out my list on a piece of paper, it’s super easy to re-arrange as the day goes along.

A lot of people say the fun part of making To Do lists is crossing things off. That is only true if you succeed and actually manage to cross things off. Otherwise you are left with a lot of uncrossed items, which can make you feel worse. Under my new To Do list, the fun part is adding things to my list. I start my day thinking about what I want to fill my day with - fun leisure activities included - and even if I have a very unproductive day and hardly get anything done, just starting out the day every day with this attitude has been a tremendous help.

It only covers one day at a time. I save tomorrow’s worries for tomorrow, just focused on Today

It doesn’t tell me I need to complete given tasks, just that I need to work on them for the allotted time

Brains will read text automatically. I can’t look at a word and Not read it. Which means that with a traditional To Do list, I can’t help but look ahead and worry about an upcoming task I might be dreading. With this tactile to do list, everything is representational. It makes it easier to compartmentalize and deal with one task/activity at a time. Relatedly, it makes it easier to engage with tasks I really dread by giving them a cool token.

It’s flexible. Partly because it’s vibes-based and just needs to make sense to me, but also because I can combine established tokens together. So if I combine ‘Doctor’ with ‘Telephone,’ I need to call to my doctor. But if I combine ‘Telephone’ with ‘Friend’s Token,’ it means I want to call that friend, and if I combine ‘Friend’s Token’ with ‘Computer,’ I should email them instead. ‘Computer’ can be combined with ‘Organize Files,’ etc.

Fun Things and Chores are treated equally. They are all just how I want to be spending my time. This has helped me find time to draw and go for walks, instead of getting stuck in a rut of scrolling on my phone or reading endless fanfiction. There are many and varied ways to entertain my brain, and seeing the maximalist clutter of possibilities every morning helps to remind me of that.

[Image ID: The same board arrangement as the first image, this time close-up from a lower angle. / End ID]

This was my planned schedule for today.

9AM: Dirt Devil pin says clean up house. Paired it with soda can tab for take trash and recycling to dump, and the white buttons and mini spoon that means do dishes.

10AM: large flat brown leather button resting on a Lord of the Rings ring of power, with a one-inch miniature book on top. Go to library, I have some things I need to return. While I’m there, I can take advantage of the distraction-free environment to

11AM: paperwork. It was very satisfying to hammer that nail through a stack of scrap paper. 11:30 This is the token I made to represent Writing. A hexagonal piece of plastic covered in newspaper for the base, onto which I glued a circular bronze-colored button and topped with another button, this one with a swirly green gemlike qualities and gold accents.

12 o’clock: Lunchtime! It’s a frying pan.

1PM has a unicorn-head pushpin and a cast iron raven figurine, representing tumblr and discord, respectively. (For me, ‘tumblr’ here means ‘hey, how about finally getting around to reblogging things from my 4000+ drafts? Or the stuff I’ve been liking since Goncharov that I intended to reblog just as soon as I had the time to go through likes?’)

At 2PM brown leaf says go outside, red carabiner on top says go hiking.

3PM jigsaw puzzle piece says work on a jigsaw puzzle, that one’s pretty straightforward. 3:30 has the iron from a Monopoly game, so I will be putting laundry away.

4PM has an AO3 kudos tag, to remind me to leave one of those comments I’ve been meaning to get around to for ages...

And that’s my planned schedule for the day! If I get even half of these things done it will have been a pretty successful day, lots to feel good about.

[ID: The small brown apothecary jar, sitting in a sunny windowsill. Inside are what appear to be dead insects. /End ID] Bonus! A close-up of the jar of wasps I use to represent doctor business. I think it sums up how I feel about making appointments nicely. (Actually going is fine, finding a doctor and making appointments is the struggle).

#time management #to do list #personal tag

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raleighcat17 · 7 months

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My Eras Tour Movie Experience

Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one, so the saying goes. I'm an everyone, so I guess I have both. I saw the Eras Tour movie on Friday of the opening weekend, and here are some things I notices. As thousands and thousands of us attended shows and/or watched from home via social media, it seems foolish to offer a spoiler alert. But if you fixate on things like I do and haven't seen the tour movie yet, then maybe you don't want to read this.

Overall, I really enjoyed reliving the concert. It was nice to see the stage and background graphics from a different angle, and I honestly wish I had paid more attention to them. I felt like the all of the other performers on the stage got to shine as well, which was super cool.

Specific things I noticed (and made covert notes about on my phone):

I don't go to the movies much, but I felt that the theaters took advantage of having us as a captive audience - the previews seemed to go on forever!

I really really hated seeing Travis' smug mug in a State Farm commercial before the movie. All part of the story indeed. That sucked, and kind of soured my mood a bit before the movie came on.

As others have pointed out, some of the very first images on the screen are rainbows. Because of course they are (I'm old, southern, and getting salty - piss or get off the pot, T)

The vocals that they open with are a little rough. I know she had to have been pretty worn out, both physically and vocally, when this was filmed, but the some of the vocals are…yeah.

Every time I hear Tolerate It, I get a different vibe from it. I know songwriting isn't exactly a precision instrument (well, ok, it is in T's hands), and that our strongest emotions rarely have a single influence. I have seen people say that they think the song is about Scott B pushing T to stay in the closet. I know they were probably really close for a while, but this song just feels so personal to me, especially the way it's performed. It feels like her dad to me. I thought about maybe a grandparent, but it looks like they all passed when she was pretty young. I can't unsee her dad as the antagonist, and it's heartbreaking. Hope my interpretation is way off.

Let's just agree that Taylor's hair is practically it's own life form and just does whatever the hell it wants most of the time. Unfortunately, it did different things on the different days this was filmed. The humidity must have changed drastically or something, because the hair goes from flattened (her usual performance look) to fuzzy and back again, sometimes within the same song. That was a bit jarring, and once I saw it, I couldn't stop looking for it.

Folklore - ahh, one of my favorite sets. I never noticed before how her mike stand in the cabin is made to look like a branch. That was cute. Her 'lonely millennial' speech regarding quarantine made me snicker, because wasn't she supposed to have quarantined with Joe the beau? That made no sense to me…

Her hair in My Tears Ricochet is just out there wildin'. It is something else entirely, but I think it was at least consistent for the song.

Even though Taylor really puts on a show when she performs, she cranks it up a few notches when the cameras are around. Sometimes I feel like it's almost too much, but that's just a personal observation. This show is already so over the top with the costumes, props, and performances, though, I didn't think it needed more. At this point, I wonder if she's even aware she does this?

Sometimes the transitions between sections seemed a bit…choppy, maybe.

I loved the fans and errors stuff at the end credits, but could have done without the close-up crowd shots during the movie. I wanted to see Taylor and the performance, not pretty girls sobbing with happiness.

Overall, I enjoyed it, and I hope we get a longer cut, or maybe 2 parts to it, when it comes to video. Justice for the songs that got the axe!

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maddiephobic · 4 months

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If god is real where is he now?

I hope that they take my beating heart directly out of my loose chest,

that they use aggression and force to help them be victorious,

just like how the living had done.

And that every nail on my body be chopped off with a shiny kitchen knife,

slow and steady, because thats what wins the race right?

Wrong.

I want them to take their sweet time

and really envelop the blood coming out of my weakend fingers.

Maybe pick every eyelash off one by one,

and keep it in a jar for the next person to admire,

because only my beauty shall be admired,

not my daughting personality and dead eyes that shall not be seen.

especially in between my fake bubbly aura and lightened personality.

Thank goodness nobody can read between the lines of my shaky hands and my soul reaping eye bags.

Although I had always hoped It’d be gentle,

as they took my memory filled brain,

and lay me down softly and whisper little lullabies to me,

as the pat me down, getting ready for my neverending sleep,

we all know thats not how God works.

The all-seeing, perfection of the world.

A Holy being named God just decided that everything goes the way it goes.

But then why?

Why would YOU, the perfect being,

let them scoop out my heart

my red, beating heart,

and let them use it for their advantage?

How do you expect me to believe that theres someone out there that gives an explanation for everything,

if you can’t even let me be worth more then a chess piece in everyone else’s story.

So please, “God”.

Let them take my rotting corpse,

and use it for their experiments,

let them declaw me like a ravage cat,

and put a muzzle on me to shut me out.

Let them pull my body parts out of their place because

Why would I deserve more then to be thrown around like a puppet ready to perform!

Let them rip out my ears because forget learning when I could be making food for someone who doesn’t even know my favorite color,

Let them tape my mouth,

Let my dear opinions rot and discingrate,

just like they let my spark die.

Let them use me for their show once again,

so atleast in the end they were entertained.

-Madison (by me, maddiephobic <3)

Also I’m aware this is very free verse i just wanted to show a draft ig, dont be rude!!!

#poetry #new poets #new poet #writer #writers on tumblr

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gazorninplat · 1 year

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I think one of the most underrated problems when building a cinematic universe is that Marvel has an advantage that DC doesn’t have when it comes to translating their characters into a shared live-action space: Marvel's heroes actually work in a realistic setting with a lower bar for suspension of disbelief.

This has always been one of the key differences between both companies' approach to storytelling: DC is a lot more fantastical, with a sort of “anything goes” philosophy of world-building that let’s stuff like an urban ninja (Batman), a mishmash of mythological figures (Shazam) and a literal metaphor for storytelling (Sandman) share the same narrative space without feeling too incoherent.

Marvel doesn’t do that. Science and technology has always been a sort of connecting thread between characters (just look at how many of the Marvel heroes and villains are scientists, doctors, or engineers), and thus, translating them to realistic live-action is arguably easier. Hell, this appeal for realism is what lead Marvel into putting its characters in actual real cities like New York instead fantastical, fictitious ones like Gotham or Metropolis. There's definitely a different attitude towards realism in both universes that really give each a distinct flavor; just read Marvels and Kingdom Come back to back and you'll see what I mean.

In consequence, this background of the “real world” does a lot of heavy lifting for Marvel when it comes to actually connecting the stories and letting them feel part of the same universe in a Live Action format. Marvel stuff happens in something very close to our reality, just a little more technologically advanced, which demands less of our suspension of disbelief, and causes the most fantastical stuff (like wizards or aliens) treated more like anomalies, and used more sparingly. Let's not forget that actual magic wasn't introduced into the MCU setting until 2016 with the first Doctor Strange film, 8 years into the franchise, with a tentative first step in the Scarlet Witch still explained as a result of science experimentation.

So, what is the grounding of a Live Action DC universe? Of course there are good live action DC films/tv series already, but the unifying thing about those is that “real world” sensibilities are thrown out of the window. Let's take, for example, Burton’s version of Batman. In that 1989 film, he understood that he was working with a world that operated on “theater” logic; the characters are exaggerated, the city doesn’t make sense, and the time period is a mix of every decade of the 20th century, but that works because Batman is not realistic at all. It's an opera character, a pulp hero come to life. Nolan’s Batman pushed the character into a realistic setting, of course, but the reality build around that is (arguably) already at the breaking point by the third movie, and that vision would never allow for stuff like ancient amazons, or a indestructible aliens. That's why the tone of the snyderverse is all over the place; 2/3 of the DC characters wouldn't work in our "real world" at all the way Marvel does.

In my opinion, then, if DC wants to succeed in the cinematic universe space, they should lean into that fantastic incoherence. Give me an impossibly clean and shiny Metropolis that could exist anywhere between 1930 and 1970, a dark moody Gotham populated by clichéd mobsters and seemingly built entirely out of dark alleways, things like that. A setting where a hyperintelligent worm doesn't fill jarring. Only that way DC might do something that is worth watching in the cinema.

#MCU #DCEU #Cinematic Universe #DC #Marvel #Superhero movies #superhero media #suspension of disbelief #james gunn #live action #nerd rant

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fanimesenseiwrites · 3 years

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Things the MC would bring back to their demon bois from the mortal realm:

Lucifer:

MC goes to second hand stores and vintage shops always on the look out for vinyl records that they think Lucifer would like.

Most of the time they try and bring back stuff he'd actually like, such as Tchaikovsky or Vivaldi

Once, they brought back Stravinsky's Firebird Suite and Lucifer wouldn't stop kissing them (once they were in the privacy of his room of course)

Sometimes the MC will bring back more modern music just because it makes them think of him

"I dunno, I just listen to Hozier and think of you"

Lucifer doesn't like all the modern music they bring back but he appreciates the sentiment just the same

Then there's the gag gifts...

Any kind of music that has a reference to the devil or Satan or hell is fair game

These gifts usually elicit an eye roll from the eldest brother but he keeps them all the same

This is why Lucifer owns a copy of "The Devil Went Down To Georgia"

So when MC brings back a copy of Giuseppe Tartini's Violin Sonata in G minor, they're a little surprised at Lucifer's delighted reaction

"You know, I was the one who visited Tartini in his dreams."

MC's mind = blown.

"Also, this copy is cursed. I know you know how much I enjoy cursed vinyls."

"I- wait... What?!"

MC is very upset that they had a cursed vinyl in their possession this whole time

Mammon:

This boy loves stuff, and he loves MC, so he's gonna love any gift really

But MC knows he loves treasure and jewels and as much as they'd love to just bring him back nice watches and jewelery...

MONEY IS A THING, AND MC IS NOT MADE OF IT.

So MC settles for semi-precious stones instead

They always find fun and beautiful stones at museums and those metaphysical stores and they always pick out one that reminds them of Mammon

They're really nervous when they give him his first gift

"Hey, I got this for you and I know it's not fancy or expensive but I saw it and thought of you and I just wanted you to have it."

Mammon will love them until they die. He is really just so touched that MC thought of him. He'll try and play it cool though

He totally fails. MC won't tell him that though

MC brings him Lapis Lazuli and tells him it reminded them of his eyes and Mammon is now a puddle of lovesick goo on the floor

Mammon puts more shelves in his room dedicated to all the gifts MC gives him

One time MC brings him back some fool's gold in a teeny little jar on a chain, so that he can wear it

"Fool's gold? Why cuz I'm a fool?" Mammon asks with a roll of his eyes.

"What? No, cuz I'm a fool for you."

Mammon only love MC until they die? WRONG.

He's gonna love them forever now

He was gonna do that anyways

Leviathan:

C'mon, this boy is easy. Anime/manga stuff and TSL. Need I say more?

At first he'll be suspicious of MC wanting to give him gifts, but once they've convinced him that they're doing it out of the kindness of their heart he's really touched

The first thing the MC brings him is a pen with a little Ruri-Chan on the end of it

"I know it's not much, but I just happened to see it and I knew you'd like it"

Like it??????

HE LOVES IT! HE'S OVER THE GODDAMM MOON.

He's never seen anything like this in the Devildom and he doesn't think about the small stuff usually because he's too busy trying to get the big collectors edition items. So he actually really loves this.

MC continues to bring him cute small stuff like buttons and keychains and Levi loves them all.

His favorite item(s) that MC brought him is a pair of Lord of Shadows and Henry BFF enamel pins

He definitely tackle hugged MC when he got them

He gives the Lord of Shadows pin back to MC so they can each have one and show off their BFF status with them

Satan:

MC loves going to second-hand bookstores to shop for Satan.

Satan also appreciates new books, but there's something special about how his face lights up when he finds something old or rare. Anything with a little bit of history to it.

Of course, finding rare books for not a lot of money is a rare event in itself

So a safe bet is to bring Satan non-fiction, the boy loves to learn

But he really loves it when MC puts thought into finding fiction books that he would like

"I just really feel like you'd like Dean Koontz so I brought you one of my favorites by him."

Satan loves those gifts the most because he can talk to MC about the books afterwards

Satan's absolute favourite gift is a leather bound copy of Arabian Nights though

"I was thinking we could read this one together"

"Like you read it to me and pretend to be Scheherazade?" Satan suggests.

MC is flustered at the connotation of the suggestion but agrees anyways

The time they spend together reading that story will forever be one of Satan's favorite memories

Asmodeus:

He's a little harder to shop for than the MC had originally imagined

They tried bringing him make-up and skin care, which Asmo always graciously accepted, but he never seemed super excited about the gifts

But what else is to be expected from the guy who already uses only the best products?

MC suddenly gets an idea when they send Asmo a selfie of them at the park

- OMG! You're so cute! And the background is pretty too!-

MC starts dressing up and going to nice and beautiful places just with the intention of taking pictures

Botanical Gardens, museums, downtown skylines, anything that would make for a good picture

MC goes full on aesthetic art hoe just for Asmo

Only the best pictures get sent to Asmo

Asmo is LIVING for the looks their MC is serving up

- You are absolutely STUNNING! I'm in awe at these AMAZING pictures-

MC makes a scrapbook of the best pictures to give to Asmo the next time they see him

Asmo loves it and keeps it on display in his room always

Also, Asmo definitely makes MC their personal photographer after seeing the wonderful shots they took

Beelzebub:

Obviously, the boy loves food. He's always down to try new snacks from the mortal realm.

But MC wonders if there's something better that they could bring him

One day MC is at GNC for supplements for themself when they notice the workout supplements and get an idea

They grab some fun flavored protein powder and some BCAAs and a really nice shaker bottle just for Beel

Beel is actually really excited to get these gifts!

The Devildom doesn't have fun flavors of protein powder and the shaker bottle is such a great idea!

MC always brings new flavors of protein back for Beel, doing their best to find the weirdest flavors for him to try

Beel's favorite is definitely Birthday Cake.

MC starts bringing him new stuff to try too, protein bars, recovery supplements, collagen, and superfoods shakes

Beel tries everything and tells MC what their favorites are

"I love the BCAAs, I just wish the Devildom had them..." *sad Beel noises*

MC may or may not talk to Diavolo about researching BCAAs and getting them produced and sold in the Devildom

The supplements MC brings actually help Beel with his workouts and to control his hunger (a little)

Beel actually gets hotter??? Who knew that was possible???

MC definitely takes advantage of Beel's new 8-pack 😏😏😏

Belphegor:

What do you get the boy who only wants to sleep?

MC has gotten him stuffed animals and blankets and even a couple of nice pillows, but nothing seems to excite him

... but maybe that's just his personality??

It's not until MC accidentally leaves a sweater in the Devildom, that they figure it out

- You left your sweater down here- Belphie texts MC.

- Oh no, I'll just get when I come to visit y'all again-

- That's fine. I like having something that smells like you-

And the light bulb went off in MC's head.

Every time MC goes to visit they leave a shirt or sweater behind for Belphie, so that he can have something that smells like them.

Belphie loves how MC smells, its like a sweet dream all the time. It helps him sleep better when they're gone.

Belphie starts to complain when MC is gone longer than the item they left smells like them

(Which is every time)

So MC will start leaving Belphie more than one item, packing them in airtight bags so he can use them one after another until they return

Belphie can and will fight anyone who tries to take MC's clothing

"Mammon, you have two seconds to put that sweater back or I will kill you."

And Lucifer probably won't stop him

Diavolo:

He's honestly the easiest to please.

He's so fascinated with any thing that humans do that he'll enjoy any gift from the human world.

MC's first gift to him is a rubber duck.

"The duck is wearing a crown so it made me think of you and I just thought it was cute."

"I love it! What's its purpose?"

"Uh... to float around in the bathtub with you and look cute?"

"Isn't that what you're for?"

Diavolo loves the rubber duck so much it gets his own silk pillow to rest on when it's not taking a bath with Diavolo.

MC brings him cute pens, and keychains sometimes bottles of wine if the bottle is cute.

"The bottle is shaped like a cat! Isn't that delightful?!"

MC's proudest moment was when they found a full and intact tea set at the thrift store

Diavolo immediately fell in love with it.

He insists on only using that set when having tea with MC

But his favorite gift will always be the rubber duck.

Barbatos:

He'll insist that he doesn't need any gifts but that won't stop the MC.

MC is with him in the kitchen in the Demon Lord's Palace when they get an idea.

KITCHEN TOYS.

Barbatos works so hard, he deserves some things to make his life easier and liven up the bland kitchen

MC's first gift is a vegetable spiralizer.

"You use it to turn zucchini and squash and the like into noodles so that you can do fun stuff with vegetables!"

Barbatos accepts it graciously, but he'll probably never use it.

MC brings him spices from the mortal realm and Barbatos actually really loves those.

When MC brings him a food processor, he offers to cook for them right then and there

Despite all the weird gadgets MC ends up bringing him, and there are plenty out there, Barbatos's favorite is a ladle that looks like a stegosaurus.

It's far more whimsical than anything he would've ever picked out, and he'll never use it, but only because he's afraid of ruining it, not because he doesn't love it.

At some point, Barbatos does ask MC to stop bringing him kitchen gadgets

"Why? Do you not like them?" MC asks with a pout.

"I appreciate all of them, but I have everything I need when you're in the kitchen with me."

If MC wasn't already in love with him they are now

Smooth bastard just doesn't want anymore shit in his kitchen

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