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#arpon
mabellonghetti · 5 months
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María Elena Arpón in Tombs of the Blind Dead // La noche del terror ciego (dir. Amando de Ossorio - 1972).
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hab-a-nice-day · 1 month
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And I'm sure it will start going in.
—Juraj Pretty-Hard-On-Himself Slafkovský, Montreal Canadiens, Post Game, February 17, 2024
[ Cole knows what's up: ]
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And you know, we're just trying to keep him positive. You know, he's obviously a very positive kid, but you know, he wants to be the best and that's what we're supporting.
—Cole about Slaf, Montreal Canadiens, Pre Game, January 4, 2024
[ Post Game—Coach's Interview: ]
Juraj just came in the room and was very upset with himself. He has three chances to win the game on his stick—
[ Marty's face at that moment: ]
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—I know—I'm not blaming him—you know, just what does that say about his own expectations of himself that he's fuming after the game when he has the game on his stick three times in the last [ few seconds ]? He's hungry. They're three good shots, hit the net on all of them. [ The goalie ] squeezed the first one, I think it's shoulder blocker the second one. Third one, I mean, Carlson... I think it's Carlson that came out. Um, I know the cage—the net—looks empty but it's not really when there's a body in front, um, you know.
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[ Note: Cole about Slaf and his desire to learn and improve, February 8th: ]
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[ Back to Coach Marty to sum it up: ]
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—Arpon Basu and Marty about Slaf's drive to improve and be the difference maker, Montreal Canadiens, Post Game, February 17, 2024
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whoever said the kitchen would explode if not for teruteru. yeah you right…
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ocasoinefable · 1 month
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puede ser que la fragildad del ser humano se manifieste en las noche y se renueve en una inquebrantable acto de fe al aguardar el otro día. esperamos que con un nuevo día todo lo que nos agobiaba en la noche desaparezca [...] (Sus manos cubrían de la brisa la luz de las velas, se seguraba de que el calor cubrieran mis ojos mientras sus ojos llenos de silencio recordaban aquella vez que me vio de niña reír con sus historias, y como el paso del tiempo volvía a ser pequeña cada que se acercaba y me revoloteaba el cabello, con una margarita y un ademán)
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st-louis · 5 months
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10/21/23
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dlyarchitecture · 8 months
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rkfoodpackaging · 2 years
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Disposable pe aprons are suitable for various industries and are very suitable for light and medium load applications, including food processing and food service.
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issdisgrace · 5 months
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I hope you really meant it when you said it's okay for me to request more.
These are just some ideas, you don't have to write any of them. God they're so lame, bruh your league is too good.
For now I'm gonna take advantage of your random slasher sfw/nsfw hcs hehe.
1) Michael Myers (michael freqently jerks off in public + michael has a thing for teeth):
- What about Michael x male reader where reader tries to find Michael outside bc reader is horny and Michael was gone for too long, He finds him, notices his heavy breathing and a boner. - Reader takes his knife away and makes him kneel to suck him off, he takes his mask off and holding it in his hand while he puts Michael's knife into his mouth to hold it (he doesn't want to alarm Michael by holding the knife in his hand not to pose as a threat).
- Reader then notices Michael started moaning (Michael started jerking off), realizing it has something to do with him holding his knife in his teeth looking like an aggressive wolf.
- He then starts to play with the knife, biting it, licking it, showing his teeth and licking them as well.
- Reader starts to get close so he throws Michael's knife away, takes his hand and bites his fingers, causing a domino effect. Michael comes, continues to suck reader off more aggressively making reader come into his mouth.
- When Michael swallows he looks at reader and he's grinning like a devil, which makes Michael weak.
2) Vicent Sinclair (has fisted himself before):
- Basically Vincent wants reader to fist fuck him while licking, bitting and kissing his butt cheeks. He lets him do that as a sign of trust so they move frurther into the relationship.
3) Patrick Bateman (patrick likes to roleplay as a doting house wife):
- Reader comes home from work to find Patrick in an arpon, cozy and cute clothing, being all sweet and gentle.
- They are all lovely dovely, and as a doting housewife he tells reader that he needs to take care of himself so he makes him eat delicious dinner, have a bathand then Patrick and reader fuck, but it's more like patrick riding reader and just doing all the work to help reader relax.
4) Bo Sinclair (bo likes wearing panties):
- Reader and Bo having make out session (reader laying on the bed and Bo sitting on him), Bo then gets off of him to take his cloths off and reader notices his panties and teases him about it and basically they fuck while Bo still has the panties on (just put aside) and when they're done Bo teases reader for liking him in panties.
I'm gonna shower you in love if you write even just one of these. Or even when not. I love you man.
ALLEYWAY BLOWJOB
WARNINGS: Blowjob/face fucking, semi public, Michael got a thing for teeth, knifeplay??
A/N: @charliedakotariley I hope you enjoy this. I've written the other 3 requests, so be on the lookout for those in the near future.
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God, why can’t Michael be around when I need him? He’s probably avoiding me because I found out about his thing for teeth. To be fair, it’s not my fault I woke up with his fingers running across my teeth and his dick in his hand. Anyway, right now I just need to let off a little steam after dealing with morons all day.
Sighing, I go to the back door, open it and step outside, closing it behind me.
“Michael, you around. I need your help with a little something.” 
I called out. I then hear something rattle then a cat hiss. Call for the devil and he shall appear I think as I step off my back porch. I cross the backyard to the gate leading into the alley. Unlocking it, I open it, stepping into the alley. There in the shadows a few feet in front of the gate is Michael knife in hand. Must’ve just gotten back from slaughtering some people. I take slow steps towards him until I’m directly in front of him, towering over him. I force him to walk backwards until his back hits the neighboring fence. Blocking him against the fence, I lean down and whisper into his ear.
“I need to let off some steam, so how about you put that mouth to good use?”
 Michael grunts. I’ll just take that as a yes. Reaching up, I grab the mask and pull it off of his head, his brown locks falling into place. Chucking the mask on top of the nearby trash can. I then take the knife from his hand. Quickly swapping our position, I lean against the fence with my free hand. I push Michael down by his shoulder. He gets the memo and kneels before me. Now face to face with my hard on he looks from it back up to me. 
“Suck.”
He nods and reaches up. His hands making quick work of my belt. He then unzips my pants and tugs them down with my boxers. My cock springs out and hits him in the face. I let out a laugh and Michael looks up at me with a glare.
“Don’t look at me like that. Get to sucking or you won’t be getting anything from me anytime soon.”
Michael looks back down at my cock for a moment before wrapping his lips around the head of it. Reaching up, I scratch my face as I sigh in content as he starts to work my cock. His mouth felt so good on my cock.
Looking down at him, I realize I’m still holding his knife. Lifting the knife up I notice how shiny it is. I can see my reflection in it. That sparks an idea. Smiling, I check out my teeth in the reflection of the knife for a minute. Hey if Micheal likes my teeth might as well indulge him. I laugh to myself as I continue to check out my teeth for a couple more minutes. I suddenly feel Michael groan around my cock. Looking down, I notice him jerking himself off.
Laughing, I fix my grip on the knife before stabbing into the fence beside me. Letting go of the knife, I reach down and grab the sides of his head. Forcing eye contact with him. I then shove him all the way down onto my cock. I feel him gag around me, which draws a moan out of me. I start brutally fucking myself in and it of his mouth. 
God his mouth felt so good around me. If I could fuck his mouth all day, I would. As I fuck into his mouth, I feel him groan more and more around my cock. Each vibration bringing me slowly towards the edge. I hum to myself, the groans getting louder and more frequent. He must be closing in on his orgasm. But I’m not gonna let him finish before me. Tightening my grip on his head, I animalistically fuck his mouth. It doesn’t take long for the knot in my stomach to tighten even more. Then he lets out one last long loud groan, causing me to go over the edge, cumming down his throat. Coming down from my high, I lean my head against the fence. God that felt amazing. As I bask in my bliss, I feel Michael pull himself off my cock slowly with a pop. Looking down at him, I notice him wiping his hand on the pants of his jumpsuit before he puts himself away. He looks up at me the look in his eye that tells me he wants more. 
“If you tuck me back in and we’ll continue this inside.”
Michael nods as he reaches down and grabs pants from where they pool at my knees and pulls my boxers and pants back up. He then zips my pants back up before buckling my belt. I pat his head and give him a little praise before helping him up. His knees cracking in the process. Hmmm, I’ll have to see if I can get him those knee compression sleeves.
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st6rly · 6 months
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mornings with wriothesley where he kisses you awake and you two make breakfast together (while he hugs you from behind and complains about work)
wriothesley is like prime malewife material tbh. NAH BC HIM IN THAT “kiss the cook” ARPON WITH NO SHIRT- explodes 💥💥💥💥💥
OK BUT HIM AND SLEEPY GRUMBLES 😭😭 how he mutters complaints about the papers and documents that come with his line of work in your shoulder.
he’s the type to melt when you play with his hair and trace his jawline like bro is putty in your palms. sleepy him is even more so.
he’d love kissing you awake. presses one to your forehead and nose and gives that little smile when you blearily open your eyes KGJGLGJGKFNFJFHHG
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magicalbats · 5 months
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Day 14: Orgasm Denial
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Rating: R-18+
Word Count: 7925
Warnings: Afab!reader, (lots of) gendered language, social power dynamics, boss/employee, upperclass/lowerclass, tbh I’m not entirely sure how to tag some of this xmdkxkdnd, manual masturbation, dacryphilia, I wanted reader to be a bit of a bimbo in this one so if she seems stupid that’s why lol
A/N: sorry this one is late! I am officially behind on my prompts now but regardless of how long it takes I WILL be completing this Kinktober challenge! Unfortunately the real world demands attention sometimes but I’m not giving up 😤
Stamping down the urge to nervously fiddle with your hands, you clutch at the front of your arpon to keep them still and try very hard to focus on what the man in front of you is saying. The Palais Mermonia housed a great many regular faces, some of which you only saw from time to time and could not seem to commit to memory, and yet you’d been seeing mister Danon’s more and more often than anyone else’s recently. You didn’t understand why that would be though, and had at first written it off as mere coincidence. A simple matter of happenstance and nothing more. 
But then it kept happening at an ever increasing frequency until it seemed like you were running into him almost every day now. Only then had it occurred to you, in a far off, distant sort of way, that he must have been making a concerted effort to talk with you like this. That was the only reasonable explanation for it that you could glean, because the one person you saw at the Palais with any amount of real regularity was the honorable Iudex himself and certainly not the man who’s job description you could not seem to recall. But that didn’t exactly explain why. 
You wanted to understand what would make him seek you out like this, so you attentively listen to mister Danon when he speaks even though you sometimes find him a bit difficult to follow. He seemed like he was probably a good person and respectable enough, but he had a strange habit of jumping from topic to topic without much rhyme or reason that you could discern. One moment he would be talking to you about matters of work, about documents he needed to have signed or the latest gossip that had everyone all in a buzz, and the next … why, he would suddenly say something off hand about recreational activities to do in the city or places to dine, a book he’d read recently and even the types of food he fancied. 
It was all very strange, and listening to him talk does not help in the slightest. In fact, it actually seems to make it worse. 
You didn’t have the slightest idea why he would want to discuss upcoming stageplays with you nor why he should feel the need to announce that his favorite dish was aspic as if it was something that should be of great interest to you. It was all really quite strange. 
“You see, if you take a few fish when they’re still flopping around and fresh,” He tells you, eagerly gesturing his way through an explanation you hadn’t asked for. “That will guarantee their taste and ensure your aspic comes out just divine. Like something straight from the Gods themselves, if you want the honest truth of it. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything more sumptuous!” 
“A - ah,” You make a valid attempt to smile politely but it was difficult to keep up with him like this. What did you care for the precise steps to make such an unappetizing sounding dish? 
“You know, if you were interested, cherie … I could make it for you to try, if you would like. Ah, what I mean is — it might be nice if we can sit down together and chat over a meal at my residence. Just the two of us.”
Your brows slowly crawl straight up to your hairline. “Oh.” 
Before you can think to say anything else, an attention grabbing thud against the marble floor makes you spin around and a smile quickly overtakes your face. 
“Monsieur Neuvillette! It is a pleasure to see you today.”
The kindly man sends you a slow, vaguely bemused half-smile. “Good afternoon, mademoiselle. Mister Danon. You looked like you were having a rather lively conversation just now. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important?” 
“Of course not, monsieur. It was nothing important at all.” You beam up at him, eager and happy to hang on his every word no matter how benign or minuscule. Much to your surprise, though, he sends another unreadable look over your shoulder and when you turn back to Danon you’re more than a little surprised to find him slouched as if in defeat. Your eyebrows quickly make the climb up to your hairline again. “Mister Danon, are you alright? Goodness, you suddenly look quite unwell.” 
“Yes, everything is fine. Nothing to worry about.” He waves off your concern, but it doesn’t escape your notice that he makes a concerted effort not to look directly at you now and instead turns his attention towards monsieur Neuvillette. “Forgive me, your honor. I’m afraid I must be going now. My break is almost over and my presence will be sorely missed if I fail to show up on time.”
The stately Iudex inclines his chin in a brief nod of acknowledgment. “You needn’t apologize, mister Danon. On behalf of all of Fontaine, thank you for the hard work you do.” 
Giving monsieur Neuvillette a stiff bow, he turns to do the same to you. “Mademoiselle.” 
You quickly bob a perplexed curtsy back. “Monsieur?” 
Ignoring or perhaps not hearing the question in your voice, Danon pivots on his heel and makes a hasty retreat down the long corridor without so much as a backwards glance. You can’t seem to shake the feeling you’ve said or done something wrong though, and you watch him go with a tiny flutter of anxiety in your chest until another soft thud of monsieur Neuvillette’s cane on the marble floor pulls you around again. 
With a small frown in place, you tip your head back to look up at him when he comes to stand next to you. “Monsieur Neuvillette?” 
He offers you a small, gentle smile, no doubt meant to placate and soothe, though it does little in the way of good. “Please do not look so put out, mademoiselle. Would you like to accompany me to my office?” 
Nodding, you fall into step beside him. You find yourself listlessly fiddling with your hands now, unable to stop it when it felt like you'd made some horrible faux pas, and they anxiously flit over your front to smooth out invisible wrinkles. What a strange and confusing situation to end up in, and with no idea how to navigate it either. It seemed like you’d done the exact opposite of what you’d initially set out to do … you didn’t understand it in the slightest. 
“Forgive me for asking you such a strange question so suddenly, but … did I say something to offend mister Danon just now?” 
Noising a quiet sound of consideration, monsieur Neuvillette thinks on that for a brief moment. “I am certainly no expert on the topic, mademoiselle, but if I am not mistaken I do believe mister Danon harbors a romantic interest in you. I believe he may have felt slighted when you said what you were discussing was of no importance, and he took it as a sign of rejection.” 
You jerk to a sudden halt with an inelegant scuffle of your heels. “Romantic?” Eyes widening in mute horror, you feel your cheeks start to grow uncomfortably warm. That did make sense, you were more than just a little stunned to realize. The way he made the effort to find you wherever you were working, stop you and talk to you; the way he would casually sprinkle in bits and pieces of his personal life and subtly suggest food, diners, places to go and things to do … had he really been laying out suggestions this whole time hoping you would show an interest in him back? But — “But he never said … oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I had no idea!” 
He looks at you with a soft, sympathetic smile where he’d stopped half a pace in front of you. “It is alright if you didn’t know. Situations like these can be difficult to — parse sometimes, and I do not think you acted with malicious intent. Come, let us continue this over a cup of tea.” 
Embarrassed and roiling with a crushing sense of guilt, you slowly trail after the Iudex to his large, exquisitely furnished office where you quickly fall into your usual habit of preparing the chinaware while he situates himself on the ornate lounge. It is muscle memory alone that sees you through your task, motions practiced and subconscious after working at the Palais for so long, which comes as a great relief in that moment. You were far too preoccupied with this startling revelation to give the pouring of the tea much thought. Mister Danon’s intentions were shocking enough but, perhaps even more so, you’re surprised at your own lack of awareness on the matter. 
You felt rather bad now, for listening to him so attentively and humoring the conversations he was always keen to share with you. Had he mistaken it for budding affection on your part? Have you unknowingly encouraged him to keep trying or, somehow worse, made him believe you were merely toying with his feelings this whole time? What a terrible thing to do to another person, intentionally or not. 
Monsieur Neuvillette silently regards you when you bring the tea over on a silver tray but you can’t bring yourself to look at him while you set everything down on the low table in front of him. He was always nothing but kind to you despite your lower station of housekeeper, just as he was with all of the staff that kept the Palais functioning as it should. Everyone from the notarizers and the title clerks right down to even the janitors were treated with nothing but respect and dignity, and that very much included you. But you were a bit too ashamed, too guilty to meet his gaze right now, and you quickly shuffle back a polite distance once everything is laid out so you can further avoid his eyes. 
A stretch of quiet settles over the room, and you have to try very hard not to start fiddling with your uniform again. 
“Won’t you make yourself a cup and join me?” He ventures at last. 
“I couldn’t, monsieur Neuvillette. But thank you.” 
He seems to deliberate over something for a short beat before half turning his body on the lounge to look up at you. “I must apologize for prying like this but what about the situation with mister Danon has you so upset? If you didn’t know what his intentions were then you certainly cannot be held responsible for not acting accordingly.” 
You hesitate to discuss this matter with him, well aware that it was improper and impolite to talk over such things with not only the aristocracy but also the man who was effectively your employer. It felt very much like an unspoken boundary that should not, under any circumstances, be crossed but … when you take in monsieur Neuvillette’s imploring expression your resolve starts to crumble. He was a wise and exceptionally astute figurehead who always treated every case laid out before him no matter how small or insignificant with the utmost care and consideration. Perhaps he would have some insight to share with you, or at least some advice. 
“Well,” You finally relent, tipping your chin down to shyly regard your buckled shoes. “I’m aware that this might sound a little odd but I just feel so guilty about everything … I should have realized sooner why he kept seeking me out like he did. As silly as it is, I can’t help but feel like I tricked him somehow.” 
“That is a silly thing, isn’t it?” He agrees in a soft, endlessly patient tone. “How could you have tricked someone if you weren’t aware of what they wanted from you? In the unlikely event that a case such as this were presented to me, I wouldn’t even be able to rule in favor of misrepresentation on the defendant’s part. You have to act with knowing and intention to be held accountable for trickery.” 
You despondently mull that over for a long stretch. Logically, you knew what he was saying to be true and you, as everyone else in Fontaine, trusted his judgment implicitly. It wasn’t so much that you doubted him but, rather, your guilt was so great that it couldn’t accept this answer. The thought alone that you might have broken mister Danon’s heart after stringing him along for months almost brings tears to your eyes. 
“Does that mean you wouldn’t deign to punish me for it?” It’s barely more than a whisper. 
“No, not unconscionably. No one in their right mind would.” 
It feels like you're withering on the spot. You didn’t understand it yourself, why you were so upset to hear this rather than relieved at finding you hadn’t broken any laws or regulations that would hold you accountable. Even if mister Danon were to try to file a suit against you to mend some of his bruised ego it sounded like he wouldn’t even have a case to stand on — and that was good. 
So why did it feel as if you were skating by without making proper amends for the transgression?
“Mademoiselle?” 
You finally bring your head up to look at him. “Do you think mister Danon will forgive me if I apologize?” 
Monsieur Neuvillette’s expression softens, taking on a truly remorseful edge. “I don’t know, little one. He might. I can’t see into the future any more than you can, but I think if it’s something that bothers you so much then it certainly wouldn’t hurt to talk to him about it.” 
Blinking back a sudden deluge of tears, you take an impulsive step towards him with the tray clutched to your chest. “Oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I don’t know what to do! How can I possibly ameliorate my actions if he might not even accept my apology? I — I didn’t mean to lead him on!” 
Very neatly, calmly, monsieur Neuvillette folds his gloved hands on his lap and studies you for an indeterminable amount of time with that closed and shuttered expression. You aren’t sure how many minutes pass when you’re a right mess inside, all your emotions kicked up into such a veritable whirlwind that it’s all you can do just to hold it together. But, at length, he eventually draws a careful breath. 
“What I’m hearing is that your guilt over this matter will not be dissuaded until you feel appropriate action has been taken against you to right what is, in your mind, a very serious wrong, intentional or not. Is that correct?” 
You blink, more than a little surprised at how concisely he’s grasped your thoughts on the matter. It almost sounds foolish when he puts it like that, in such blunt terms, but there is no denying the pang that resonates within you. “Yes, monsieur. I feel terrible for what I’ve done …” 
He seems to hesitate, his brows drawing inward almost imperceptibly. “Guilt can function as its own form of punishment as well, and a very effective one at that. But you must understand something, mademoiselle. The law simply is not applicable here. There is no legal recourse and, therefore, no system in place to enforce any sort of repercussions against you.” 
You take another step closer, feeling fervent and hot. “Then will you punish me, monsieur Neuvillette?” 
Abruptly, he goes very still. “I am hardly in any position to mete out such discipline,” He says slowly, carefully. “And, far more importantly, I’m not quite sure what you would have me do. I don’t believe this situation would call for a monetary fine or even any corrective action on an employment level … and I’m certainly not going to spank you over my knee like a child.” 
Flustered heat crawls up your neck to settle in your cheeks. You hate the way your knees grow weak and knobby at the thought of that, but you were decidedly in agreement with him. It would have been inappropriate for him to strike you in any capacity, least of all over something like this. Still, though … 
“Isn’t there something to be done?” 
Monsieur Neuvillette’s expression settles back into that somber mask again, eyeing you for a drawn out beat before he finally issues a clipped sigh. Leaning back to recline against the lounge, he stiffly crosses his legs and once more settles his folded hands atop the bent knee. “Come here, little one. Stand next to me.” 
Your feet almost don’t want to move from the spot but you force them to uproot so you can cautiously shuffle forward. You aren’t sure what to expect when your cotton stuffed head was such a mess, but all he does when you come up beside him is hold out an expectant hand. It takes you a moment to realize what he wants and you flush even hotter as you pass him the tray. Taking it from you, he sedately sets it aside on the cushion before fixing his attention on you once again. 
“This is another topic in which I lack expertise but I might have something in mind that could satisfy your need for penance. However, I will not force or otherwise coerce you into it, and you will likewise be free to walk away at any time. Once you have decided you’ve made the appropriate dues for leading mister Danon on, as you put it, then this arrangement will end immediately. Is that agreeable to you?” 
You bob your head in a quick nod. “Yes, monsieur Neuvillette. Thank you.” 
Squaring his broad shoulders, the usually kindly disposition with which he carried himself outside of the courtroom fades and is replaced by the stern set of his mouth, the slight tension along his brow, to indicate that it is the Chief Justice sitting before you now. A chill runs up your spine at the change in him, so subtle yet unavoidably obvious, and a sharp look from pale lavender eyes stops you from saying anything. You’d never before been subjected to such a hard expression from him and you can’t quite stop yourself from sympathizing with whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves standing before him in court. It really wasn’t any wonder why he held the title of supreme judge in all of Fontaine when you saw him like this. 
“Do not thank me yet, mademoiselle. If you would be so kind, please lift your skirt for me.” 
Your spine stiffens with a tremor so powerful it very nearly bowls you over on the spot. Obediently, though, you reach down with numb hands to gather the full, flouncy material of your uniform and shyly hike it up along with the lace petticoat underneath. 
“Higher.” He commands, intently observing the slow ascension of your skirts. “That’s it, up around your waist. Good.” 
Sucking in a faltering breath, you sway unsteadily on your feet and try not to lose your nerve. The thought that you would be able to alleviate your guilt with this steels your resolve though, and your hands start to shake as your stockinged upper thighs are revealed to him, the simple garters holding them in place and, finally, your lace panties. Your face is on fire while you nudge everything up a little further to make sure it was satisfactory and to his liking despite still harboring some very real doubts about this in the back of your mind. 
He did say he wasn’t going to spank you … didn’t he? 
Casually, monsieur Neuvillette reaches out a hand to slip long, elegantly poised fingers into the space between your thighs and you suck in a sharp gasp when he nudges them up against your cunt just so. The touch is featherlight and barely there, but it makes more blood rush into your face to leave you rattled and a bit dizzy. But you don’t pull away from him as he takes his time petting over the apex of your fleshy mound and the slit running along your body, determined to see this through. Somehow having him touch you like this was not nearly as embarrassing as the way his expression doesn’t change while he does it, you’re quite ashamed to realize. 
“Are you sensitive here?” He asks you softly, prompting you to swallow. Hard. 
“I … I don’t know. I’m not sure.” 
Quietly clicking his tongue, monsieur Neuvillette presses up against you a little more firmly, gloved fingertips digging into your defenseless clit to make you jolt and give a startled yelp. “You seem responsive enough to me. I only know of this particular activity in theory but … well, it doesn’t really matter. I believe we should have no problem at all using this method for your penance.” 
“W - which is, monsieur?” 
“I believe I’ve heard the people call this ‘edging’ before. It sounds rather dreadful, doesn’t it? Like some sort of barbaric torture technique.” Carefully observing your face, he pushes up even harder to grind tight, mean little circles against that sensitive pleasure button, and your eyes grow big as you stiltedly rock forward on your toes. “I suppose it could still be called that, depending on who you asked. The instigator or the receptee. I’m sure they would have drastically different opinions on the matter.”
Whimpering, you numbly readjust your hold on your skirt to make sure it stays up and out of his way while he’s doing this. Not that you were entirely sure you liked this specific method in terms of punishments when it was so obvious your body was eagerly responding to it – from the way your pussy clenches around nothing and starts to slick for him and even to the way your nipples stiffen against the inside of your shirt – but perhaps that was a good thing. Would you have really been able to say your penance was paid in full if this trial were not appropriately challenging?
“Wh … where?” 
Blinking at the little mouse squeak noise, monsieur Neuvillette just keeps rubbing over you with that steady motion of his hand. “I beg your pardon?” 
Trying valiantly to keep the fluster off of your face and failing miserably at it, you shyly avert your gaze. “I was just curious … where did you hear of this?”
“A reasonable question.” He relents, allowing the smallest note of humor to color his voice. “While it is true I don’t often partake in such crude conversations, it can be a little hard to avoid at times. Even here, in the Palais Mermonia. I believe they refer to it as ‘water cooler talk’.”
“Oh.” You’d overhead such things before too, now that you thought of it. The other women who worked at the Palais were more prone to gossip, joint complaints about their husbands or beaus, fawning over babies and first days of school, and academic achievements, while the men … they would sometimes change topics when they saw you coming but more than once you’d caught snippets of inappropriate conversations. A recent visit they’d had to a brothel or perhaps how they fantasized about doing certain things to their partners. You always felt mildly scandalized whenever it would happen, shocked that such discussions were being entertained at the Palais, and yet — 
Letting out a slow, stuttering breath, you carefully glance down at yourself to look at monsieur Neuvillette’s hand disappearing between the soft pudge of your thighs. This was vastly more inappropriate than any ‘water cooler talk’ and that realization embarrasses you a great deal. Your cheeks feel a little hotter, your blood pumping harder, and you whine, very low in your throat. Was this really an acceptable form of punishment? 
You think it probably is, because the shame that comes with it is potent and cloying, especially when your hips give a weak judder at what he’s doing. To think that the Iudex himself was touching you like this … 
“Does that feel good, little one?” 
Twitching at the sound of his voice, you give a stilted nod. “Yes, monsieur, thank you … but — but I don’t think I quite understand. Are punishments supposed to feel good?” 
“Not necessarily, no. But this is only a part of it. Relax, sweet girl. I will ensure your guilt is appropriately mitigated in due time.” 
You still don’t truly understand it, but you allow yourself to ease into it anyway. Relax into his touch. Slipping your eyes closed, you just take a moment to feel the sensation of him rubbing over your cunt. The press of his firm fingers pudges your lips to highlight how soft and pliable they are, the blunt tips of his gloves sinking into the slit. Even the thin layer of your panties is not enough to lessen the drag in any meaningful way, and it doesn’t seem to take long at all for you to start feeling sticky with arousal. It’s copious and excessive, almost implausibly so considering that he’d only touched you in this one specific spot thus far. Hardly at all. 
You hadn’t thought you would be so easily excitable and yet the proof of it is in the way you tremble for him, the way your breathing gradually picks up to make your breasts heave under your blouse, and it quickly becomes difficult just to stay standing in place. You wanted to twist and pull away, give your drooling cunt even a moment's reprieve, but you don’t give in to the urge. That wasn’t what he’d agreed to, and you trusted his judgment … 
So you stand there, trembling, while your stiff nipples cut up into your shirt in search of the same friction, and you try not to cry out. Your pussy tingles against his hand, the pressure it exerts so constant and steady that it rapidly starts to feel like the building pressure in you is reaching critical mass. Much sooner than you could have anticipated or guessed, it was as if your body was particularly weak for monsieur Neuvillette’s dutiful attention. 
Softly wheezing when your legs buckle and threaten to give out, you subtly tip your pelvis further into his hand and it becomes that much more apparent how wet you really are. How stiff and engorged your clit had gotten. A violent shudder tears through you at the meaty, swollen drag of it under his fingers, head tipping back and. - - 
He retracts his hand so suddenly it leaves you lurching in place. Raggedly gasping at the sudden loss, you turn wide, wild eyes on monsieur Neuvillette but he merely gives you that same somber expression as he interlaces his fingers on top of his bent knee once again, unfalteringly casual about it. 
“That will be all for right now, mademoiselle. Thank you.” 
You just gape at him, stunned and confused, with your skirts still hiked up around your waist like a shameless fool. “Wh - wha —“ 
A look of sympathy flashes across monsieur Neuvillette’s face. “This is the penance you wanted so badly. As many times as you like, I will bring you close to orgasm but I will not let you actually reach climax. It is the only suitable punishment I could think of for your specific … transgression.” 
It takes a great deal of effort for you to do it, but you suck in a slow, shuddering breath to steady yourself. “I … I see. Thank you, monsieur. I understand now.” 
“Very good. Now, run along. I’m sure you’ve got work to do elsewhere.” 
He offers you a small smile that you think is meant to be reassuring but it does very little to distract from the throbbing ache in your cunt or calm your pounding heartbeat. Numbly, you drop your skirt and petticoat back into place and run your hands over it to smooth out the (now real, not imagined) wrinkles as you slowly make your way towards the door. It was like you were in a trance. 
“And mademoiselle?”
You pause, turning to look back at him. “Yes, monsieur?” 
“I would like to see you in my office again around noontime. Please do not forget and don’t be late.” 
~*~
It hadn’t taken you long to realize just how insidious and cruel this strange brand of punishment truly was. You left his office such a sticky mess between the legs that even trying to clean yourself in the powder room did little good against the slick oozing out of you to stain your panties and make them stick to you, moulding against your cunt. It serves as a near constant reminder of how close you’d been to climax, how monsieur Neuvillette’s fingers had felt touching such an intimate part of your body, and how torturous it had felt to have that friction taken away so suddenly. 
The wisdom of the Iudex impresses you even now though, for you did indeed see why he’d deemed this the only appropriate corrective measure that would fit the crime. You had unknowingly strung mister Danon along with your feminine charm and wiles, so it did indeed make sense to turn that back around on you in some way. 
And although it does take a while, the distracting pulse in your cunt slowly fades into an afterthought in the back of your mind while you flit about the Palais tending to various tasks and seeing that everything was as it should be. At some point you even start to forget how your damp panties cling to you and that makes it much easier to view this trial as an easy obstacle to overcome. You would simply allow monsieur Neuvillette to carry out this task a handful of times, consider your self flagellation completed and then move on with your life. 
Yes, this really was the best method of making your peace with the situation. 
Comforted in your conviction, you return to monsieur Neuvillette’s office at the appointed time and issue a gentle rap at the door. His voice filters through without missing a beat, calling for you to come in, and you enter without reservation. 
Perhaps you should have been more wary of underestimating him or this game you were playing but you think nothing of it as you make your way across the room to stand in front of his stately desk. He looks up at you with a brief smile that inexplicably makes your pulse thrum a little faster, and that surprises you slightly. Catches you off guard. 
“Thank you for your punctuality, little one. I have a meeting scheduled after lunch is over so I wanted to tend to you before I got too busy.” 
Self consciously, you avert your gaze. “Are you sure this is alright, monsieur? I don’t want you to go hungry because of me.” 
“Nonsense. I planned accordingly and already ate before you came by.” Not lingering on the thought for very long, he takes a moment to straighten a stack of papers and neatly set them aside, out of the way. Nudging his high backed chair out from under the desk, he half turns and situates himself first before reclining against the backrest and finally looking up at you again. “Come. No need to feel shy.” 
His words have the opposite effect of making you feel ten times more shy than you originally did, and you can feel yourself starting to blush again as you slowly round the desk to come up beside him. Standing just a scant few inches from him like this it occurs to you, suddenly, that you probably should have been a bit more apprehensive about returning to his chamber like this. He was going to touch you again … oh, perhaps you had not thought this through all the way.
“Here.” He says, drawing you back into the moment with a gentle pat against his leg. “Sit on my lap, little one. This should make things a bit easier for both of us.” 
The flush that crawls up your face is an intense and overwhelming one. “M - monsieur, I — I couldn’t possibly be so presumptuous!” 
“Is it presumptuous if I’m telling you to do it?” 
Your spine stiffens at the slightly hardened tone in his voice, the edge that seems to cut across any of your weak excuses, and you quickly realize it is once again the Chief Justice sitting before you now, not the kindly monsieur Neuvillette. And he was looking at you very expectantly. 
Swallowing your nerves, you reluctantly shuffle closer and turn to lower yourself onto his leg with a slow, stiff motion of your body. The firm pressure and warmth of him underneath you is almost enough to send you running from the room in hysterics, but before you can even think to change your mind his arm comes forward to secure itself around your middle. A surprised little yelp bursts out of you when he hauls you back against him to settle more firmly on his lap, completely disregarding how you tense up and shudder on top of him. 
“There. Isn’t that much better?” He softly coos at you, tugging you back to lean against his front. Your face feels like it’s on fire but you don’t fight it, only whimpering quietly when he at last has you situated how he wants. 
“M - monsieur …” You mewl into the suddenly statically charged office, unable to stop it, but he just quietly tuts at you as he turns his head to press his mouth against your hair. 
“Now, now, you’re alright. I’ve got you. There isn’t any reason to be so nervous.” A violent tremor tears through you when you feel his lips purse against the side of your head in what you think must be a brief kiss — but you don’t get the chance to fully process the significance of that as he bends a little closer to put his mouth near your ear now. “Spread your legs for me, little one. Let me see you.” 
Dizzy with the surge of white hot arousal that abruptly crashes into you with all the force of a sack of bricks, you give a weak, twitchy roll of your body against him and reach down with trembling hands to grab at your skirt. Slowly inching it up, you tip your chin down to watch with him as more and more of your thighs are revealed. The soft pudge around the tops of your stockings embarrasses you somewhat but not nearly as much as your panties do. Even from this angle you can see a dark, wet spot staining the crotch when you ease your legs open and you whimper softly at the sight of it. 
“Goodness, you certainly soaked yourself earlier didn’t you? Poor thing,” With a quiet click of his tongue, monsieur Neuvillette reaches down past cotton and lace, and voluminous frills to slide his hand over your mound. Your breath hitches as you watch him do it, cupping your pussy with an almost apologetic squeeze, and you quickly turn your head away before you can say or do something else you’ll regret today. 
You had to admit, it was very naive and shortsighted of you to consider this an easy penance just because it was not a constant, pressing concern at the forefront of your mind. How very foolish you had been. 
“I was thinking about it earlier and I found myself quite curious,” He admits, still just holding your cunt in the palm of his hand. “Would it be too impolite of me to ask how often you usually pleasure yourself?” 
Your chest dramatically heaves with the ragged gasp you suck in. “Monsieur Neuvillette, that’s … why would you ask me something like that?” 
“Oh dear, I hope I haven’t offended you. That was not my intention, little one. Please forgive me.” A pause, while he turns his head to press his lips against your hair again. “It is just that you are so shy and your body is so sensitive. I wondered if perhaps you were too ashamed to take care of your own needs in this manner, that’s all. I’ve heard some women are.” 
Lungs painfully constricting inside your chest, you stiffly lift your hands up to cover your face. Having the Iudex pet you so intimately was one thing, but discussing such matters with him was something else entirely! 
“P - please forgive me, monsieur … you haven’t offended me it’s just — I have no experience with this sort of thing. I do it, sometimes. Pleasure myself like that. But I’ve never had anyone else t - touch me in that way before …” 
“I see.” 
Silence settles over the room for a long, drawn out stretch that soon starts to ride the line of being uncomfortable. You can just start to feel the sting of hot tears creeping through at the corners of your eyes when he gently pats your cunt with the flats of his fingers, startling a surprised noise out of you. Lowering your hands enough to see, you gape down at yourself as he somewhat possessively cups his hand around you again and gives the pudge of your labia a light squeeze. 
“Such a silly thing you are.” He says against your head, displacing some of the little flyways there to send them dancing at your peripheral. You barely even notice it though, trembling at the faintest hint of a growl in his voice when it sets your guts to vibrate and seems to reverberate inside your chest cavity. You’d never heard him sound like that before but don’t get the chance to linger on that thought or question it, because he nuzzles further into you until it feels like he’s speaking directly into your ear now. “In the future you should try not to be so forthcoming with your body when it comes to men. Had I been any less honorable I could have all too easily taken advantage of you earlier and I could still do it now had I wanted to. I understand your desire for wrongs to be appropriately righted as that is the very foundation Fontaine was built on but this is not the way to go about it, mademoiselle.” 
Your mouth warbles open but nothing comes out. All you can do is sit there, quaking on monsieur Neuvillette’s lap, while his fingers slip into one side of your panties and tugs them aside. The sight of your own cunt lips, puffy and flushed with arousal, surprises a faltering animal noise out of you that seems to echo endlessly inside the room. He pays it little mind though and simply curls his thumb to brush over your slit and the clitoris hiding within, smearing sticky slick with that fine leather glove and nudging your body into opening up to him. Legs twitching, you jerk your hands down to latch onto the arm locked around your middle, clutching at him even as you fitfully writhe against the sensation. 
All at once your earlier arousal comes crashing back with a vengeance, temporarily forgotten but not near as snuffed out as you would have liked it to be. Your clit thrums under his stilted caress as if the climax you’d been close enough to taste but not able to experience had lain dormant this entire time while you ensured the water pitchers were filled, the snack tables stocked and the fireplaces were appropriately stoked wherever they were needed. It shocks you a great deal to realize how powerful your arousal truly is, and you buck your hips with a whiny moan that would have embarrassed you under better circumstances. 
But better circumstances would not have found your cunt absolutely flooding with a deluge of fresh slick, nor would your clit have been swelling as eagerly as it does. You can feel the meaty, engorged drag of it under the soft petting of his thumb, almost idly drawing it back and forth with a total lack of urgency that makes your head spin perhaps even more so than the sharp stabs of pleasure do. You wanted to cum, and the knowledge that he would not permit you to just makes you want it even more. 
“Please, monsieur —!” 
Softly humming, he presses his thumb down a bit more firmly. “Are you already getting close, little one?” 
You tip your head back to rest on his broad shoulder, panting up at the ceiling while shuddering waves of yet unrealized ecstasy crash over you, each somehow more powerful than the last. Instinctively, you inch your legs further apart even as they tremble fiercely for him and you think, idly, you probably would have vibrated right off him had he not been keeping you pinned against his front. You’re helpless to do anything except sensitively quake like this, and you do so with great enthusiasm. 
“It is too much … I - I can’t take it!” 
“You will.” He assures you, his voice soft again but it still carries that subtle hint of an edge underneath the surface. You didn’t understand it, why he would sound like that. What had brought it on. Was he even more displeased with you than he’d suggested? 
The thought alone brings tears to your eyes almost as much as the cresting pleasure making you writhe on his lap, and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to make him feel bad for causing you to cry when you were the one who had asked for this … but oh, it was so very hard not to give voice to the sobs threatening to wrack your body when it was all so much. The firm, weighty pressure of his thumb petting over your cunt, his other fingers idly teasing along your slit where they were still holding your panties aside. The smell of him, the taste of him lingering on the back of your tongue, his sturdy weight underneath you. It was all too much, and it felt like you were drowning in him. 
“Let this be a lesson to you,” He continues, unconcerned with the way you twist against him and choke on stuttering gasps. “Even more pressing than the matter with mister Danon, I’m far more concerned about how easily you gave yourself up to a man to do with however he pleased for the sake of penance. Needless self sacrifice is not justice, sweet girl. I do hope you’ll remember that.” 
Bending his head close once more, monsieur Neuvillette presses his mouth to your hammering pulse, and you mewl at the contact. It is not so much a kiss, you abruptly realize, as it is a not very subtle threat. Like there was a beast lurking beneath that kindly gentleman facade … 
“Oh, monsieur, I — I’m going to —“ 
“No, you are not.” He cuts across you, practically hisses it against your jugular, and you nearly jolt right off him when the arm around your middle slides up to lock across your front at an angle. Suddenly he pinches your nipple through your shirt where it’s stiff and straining against cotton, giving it a mean little tweak to make your back bow. Trying to twist away proves futile and you yelp at the pleasure laced pain even as your cunt drools even more obscenely in response. 
You felt like you were going crazy. Truly wild with potent, cloying arousal so powerful, so overwhelming, you can’t even process what’s happening to you while you shake right to the edge of your release. 
And just like that, the hand on your pussy retreats, pulling away altogether to leave your panties shamelessly askew in favor of latching onto the swell of your inner thigh and keeping them spread when you frantically buck your hips in search of that fleeting touch. You heave and groan, reeling at the total loss of friction, but it is useless. Monsieur Neuvillette is an unyielding presence at your back no matter how earnestly you squirm against him, and his gloved fingers give your aching teat another cruel tug to further stave off your release. 
You’re more than a bit horrified, in a delirious, hazy sort of way, to find that the pain serves its purpose in chasing away your climax enough to leave your pussy absolutely throbbing in the wake of this denial. No longer teetering right on the precipice, it seems to force you back a pace or two and all you can do is look on longingly at the promise of oblivion beyond with yearning and desperation. Wanting, but not allowed to have. 
You truly had underestimated just how tortuous this punishment technique could really be … 
Through the murky fever you feel monsieur Neuvillette brush his mouth across your cheek to press at the corner of your eye, effectively drawing you out of your groaning stupor. Sucking in a ragged gasp, you clutch at his arm all the tighter and try in vain to lean away. 
“M - monsieur?” 
“You’re crying.” 
Noising a soft sound of confusion, you blearily blink your eyes open to realize that they were in fact clouded with a swimming sheen of tears making them burn. Sniffling sadly, you start to reach up to swipe them away in shame but the hand on your breast comes up quicker and locks under your jaw, physically turning your face towards him. 
Laying spread out on top of him with your head forced back against his shoulder, you look up at monsieur Neuvillette from just a scant few millimeters away. His expression is still somber and unreadable but … the glint in his pale lilac eyes makes your chest hitch. It wasn’t hunger the same way you’d on occasion caught other men looking at you — men like mister Danon, you realize in retrospect — but it is a hunger all the same. Something old and primal, from a long forgotten dark age that inspires a slow curling tendril of uncertainty low in your gut. You don’t think it’s lust per se, not in the usual sense, but a kind of lust,  perhaps. One you didn’t have a name for. 
One you weren’t sure if you wanted to learn the true nature of. 
After silently studying you for a long moment, he finally drags his gaze from your face to regard the tall, stately clock standing sentry in the office, the only witness to this lurid state of affairs. “I still have some time before my meeting. I think we should be able to squeeze in one more session before I have to go.” 
You very nearly give voice to a hysterical, broken sob, just barely managing to choke it back with a frazzled whine instead. “Monsieur —“ 
“Hush, little one.” He murmurs and leans close again, stunned surprise washing over you when his tongue flicks out to lick up a wet tear from under your eye. You gape at him in shocked disbelief when he pulls back enough to look at you again, leaving behind residual moisture on your skin, but he doesn’t even look the least bit put out or sorry for it. Like it was a perfectly normal thing for him to be doing. Perhaps it was. You had no idea – and if he recognizes your surprised reaction for what it is, he certainly doesn’t show it. “You have nothing to fear from me. I will ensure your punishment is properly administered and then we shall further discuss your other behaviors in greater detail. Rest assured, you will be appropriately corrected in time. I will personally see to that myself.”
Crossposted: here
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captain-tch · 11 months
Text
Candy Striper (Eddie Munson x PlatonicGN!Reader)
You help look after the Munson family while Eddie is in hospital
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He was here, again. Mr Munson was slumped in the chair beside Eddie's hospital bed, his hand weakly lying next to Eddie's. He looked like a puppet with the strings cut, and from the clothes he was wearing, he hadn't gone home. 
"I don't think I've ever seen him leave." The nurse besides you piped up. "Eddie coded last night and he's not moved since."
Your heart panged for him. You couldn't imagine the pain Eddie's uncle was going through. When Eddie arrived in the hospital only two days ago, no one believed he would make it through the night. But he was still here, after a few cardiac arrests and one major surgery, he was still here. He was nothing like the boy you exchanged awkward smiles with in class, his body lacking the life he always exuded. 
"It must be so hard." You mused, leaning against the counter. You mindlessly smoothed the fabric of your candy striper apron down. "Is there anything I can do?"
"There's some coffee in the staff room. Strictly for staff, only." She enunciated the words, nodding her head slightly to the side. "You look tired, why don't you grab a cup?" 
The pieces fell together, and you nodded your head. "Yeah, I think I will actually." 
You stood up from the desk, striding towards the staff room. The room was surprisingly quiet, the nurses having little chance to get a break with the sudden flood of earthquake victims. Looking over your shoulder, you reached for the coffee pot, pouring it into one of the disposable cups. The cup warmed in your hand. You faltered, before snatching up a handful of creamer and sugar sachets, shoving them deep into the pockets of your apron. 
You felt as if everyone was watching you as you walked towards Eddie's room, knocking lightly on the door. Wayne's head shot up, his eyes connecting to yours. His eyes were red rimmed and puffy, and guessing from the size of the bags underneath them he hadn't slept a wink since Eddie was admitted.  
"Hi Mr Munson," you sent him a weak smile. "I brought you some coffee." 
"Oh, thank you." He muttered, dragging his hand across his face. 
You placed the cup gently on the bed side table, pulling out all the sachets and dumping them on the sides. "I wasn't sure how you take your coffee so there's some creamer and sugar too." 
He appeared dazed. He looked up at you, something other than sadness spreading across his features. "That's great, I can't thank you enough." 
You smiled, heart breaking at how tired he seemed. "It's the least I can do." 
You bid him farewell, leaving to attend to other patient's. 
That was the first time of many. Like a magnet you were constantly drawn to the room, bringing Wayne a steaming cup of coffee and a smile each morning. The bags under his eyes got darker; he smiled more, and that was something. 
Today was no different. You lightly tapped the door, Wayne gesturing over his shoulder for you to come in. You deposited the coffee on the table, sugar already stirred into the caffeinated drink. You knew by now he hated creamers. 
"You're late, I was getting worried." Wayne joked. You felt lighter - that was the first joke you'd heard him make. 
"One of the patients made me go all the way back to the kitchens to get them a different kind of jello - its wobbly water, how can you tell?" 
A huff of a laugh passed Wayne's lips. 
"I don't mind though," you shrugged, your hand dipping into the front of your arpon. "The nurses told me you've not been eating." 
"I'm not hungry." 
"You need to eat." You sighed, pulling out the object in your apron. "I know it's not much... Please can you eat this? For me?" 
Wayne looked at the pudding cup in your hand, then back to you. "Aren't you going to get into trouble?" 
"Food in the cafeteria is free, you know, since everything has happened. Which you'd know if you went there." You waved the pudding cup in his face, sending him a pointed look. He sighed, reaching out and taking it from you. You passed him a spoon immediately, watching him like a hawk. 
"Wait, now?" 
You nodded. 
"I could report you," he grumbled. 
You smiled brightly. "But you won't - you like me too much." 
"Yeah, yeah," he brushed it off, ripping open the lid of the pudding cup. He dunked the spoon in, taking a big mouthful. He raised a brow at you. "Better now?" 
"Much." You glanced at the watch on your wrist. "I've got to go now - but you better eat that whole thing, or I'll tattle on you for bringing in visitors after hours."
He knew it was an empty threat. All of the nurses and staff on the ward knew he helped sneak in Eddie's friends, turning a blind eye when a handful of kids would scurry past. Sometimes the cleaners helped too. The whole ward was in on it - it was the worst kept secret there.  
"Yes ma'am." Wayne nodded, dipping in the spoon again. You tried to hide your smile, grateful he was finally eating. 
"I'll be back at the same time tomorrow." 
Just like you promised, you returned like clockwork with a coffee in your hand. Except this time a towel was slung across your shoulder and determination in your stride. 
"Oh, hey Y/N, busy morning?" He accepted the coffee, slurping loudly as he considered your tired frame. 
"Not really," you shrugged. "Long week." 
"You've been here every morning since I've been here, what about school?" 
You dragged a spare chair into the room, sitting across from him. You could always spare five minutes to talk, even if it meant staying later on your shift to compensate. "I normally only do Saturday mornings but given the whole situation, I thought I was needed here. Besides, the school is shut at the moment. It's the refuge centre." 
"That's very kind of you." 
Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. You never thought too much about donating your time to the hospital, it was second nature at this point. You finally managed to muster some words. "Thank you sir." 
"Do you know my boy? You're at Hawkins High, right?" 
"Yeah I am." You leaned back in the chair, fiddling with your hands. "I know him, he's in my maths class. He lets me draw on his arm if I get stressed." 
"Those are your drawings?" 
You dipped your head, embarrassment clouding you. "How do you know?" 
"He's always showing them off, telling me how the coolest kid in school is using his arm as a canvas. I'd have to beg him to shower because he just didn't want to wash them away." 
"Really?" 
"Yeah, boy did he half stink at times. At least until he figured out he could just take pictures of them, then it didn't matter too much if they faded." 
You huffed a laugh, smiling distantly. "I never knew that." 
You looked at Eddie's still form in the bed. The colour was starting to return to his cheeks, and if it wasn't for the bandages creeping out beneath the covers you would have thought he was sleeping. "You know what Eddie would say now?" 
Wayne raised a brow, waiting for you to continue.
"He'd say you need to look after yourself, just like how you've looked after him all these years. Go home, sleep in your bed, shower and eat a hot meal." 
"My home was torn apart in the quake."
You sighed, slumping back in your chair. As if the earthquake hadn’t hurt him enough, by attacking Eddie and making him sick with worry, he now didn’t have a home either. You wanted to curse whatever higher power had inflicted this level of pain on his family.
“We’ve got some showers here, and the cafeteria. I know it’s not a lot, but it’s something.” 
Wayne immediately shook his head no, dead against the idea. “No, I’m not leaving him.” 
Instinctively, you sat up, reaching for Wayne’s hand. You held it softly, forcing his gaze to fall on you. “We need to make sure you’re here and you’re healthy for when he wakes up.” 
Wayne opened his mouth to protest, cut off by your voice. “You need a shower and some hot food. I’ll stay here, and if anything changes I’ll find you, okay?” 
Wayne stayed silent for a moment. He looked between you, Eddie and the heart monitor. Eddie hadn’t coded for a few days, and the doctors had said he appeared to be doing well. They just needed him to wake up. 
“What - what if he wakes up and I’m not here?” 
You tightened your grip on his hand. “He won’t be alone. I’ll be here. And if he wakes up, I’ll run and find you as fast as I can.”
He looked so conflicted, his gaze settling on Eddie. He sighed deeply, retracting his hand from yours and standing upright. He moved towards the bed, gently reaching out and squeezing Eddie’s fingers. “I’ll be back soon - you be good for Y/N.” 
He let go quickly, spinning on his heel. You reached for the towel on your shoulder, passing it to him. You led him out of the room, pointing out one of the nurses who could help direct him to the showers. He looked down at the towel in his hand, his lips curling at the edges. 
“You planned this all along?” 
You shrugged, a small smile on your face. “Just doing my job sir.” 
He nodded, walking towards the nurse. His steps faltered as he left the room, turning towards you. “He’ll be okay, right?” 
A lump grew in your throat. Seeing Wayne’s eyes keep dancing to the figure laying in the bed and how he was twisting the towel in his hands, you knew he was nervous. You were fairly certain it was the first time he’d left the room for more than five minutes. 
“He’s in good hands.” You managed to choke out, watching from the doorway as he seemed satisfied with the answer, following the nurse down the corridors. 
You turned back towards the room, walking towards the chair and falling back into it. This was the longest you’d spent here, and god was it awfully quiet. You twiddled with your thumbs, listening to Eddie’s steady breathing and beep of the heart monitor. The quiet felt suffocating, and soon you found words spilling out of your mouth without realising. 
“So I’m the coolest kid in school, huh?” You laughed, looking at his still figure. “I always thought that title was reserved for you. You don’t care what other people think, you are undeniably you. You own that shit.”
You paused, as if waiting for a response. One never came. 
“I’ve always wanted to be your friend, and not just someone who doodles on you. Maybe once you’re better we can hang out? I bet you’re dying to get out of here.” You winced, realising your poor choice of words. “Sorry, that was insensitive.” 
The silence greeted you once more. 
“You know, there’s this great book store just out of town. They have some tables at the back and you can play board games, they even have D&D. I reckon you’d like it there. Maybe you and your friends can go? I know since you’ve been in here they haven’t played.” You subconsciously moved your chair closer, so you were much closer to Eddie. “Your friends… they really miss you. They all really miss you. Dustin in particular.” 
You waited a beat, wondering if the mention of their names might awake him from his coma. He didn’t move an inch. You sighed. 
“They visit you all the time, which you probably already know.” You breathed a laugh, straightening out your uniform apron. “They bring food for the nurses though. Dustin’s mom makes the best brownies I’ve ever had. I could marry the woman.” 
You looked at Eddie, taking in the bandages and bruises lingering on his skin. You couldn’t help but wonder what happened to him to injure him so badly, unable to wrap your brain around the reasoning his friends stuttered out when he was brought out in the ER. They blamed stray animals; something told you that wasn’t entirely accurate. 
“I know you don’t know me that well, but you need to wake up soon. Everyone is so worried about you.” 
For a brief second, you swore you saw him move. But it was a trick of the mind, as he remained as perfectly still as he had since he was admitted. You tried not to be disappointed, falling into silence as you waited for Wayne to return. Minutes dragged by until you heard fast footsteps thudding down the corridor, Wayne’s slightly dishevelled figure appearing in the doorframe.
“Is he okay?” He asked breathlessly, surging forwards to be closer to Eddie’s bedside. A whiff of the hospital shampoo followed in his wake, clogging your nose with a smell similar to baby powder. You immediately left the chair, watching him flop into his gracelessly. 
“Yeah, watched him like a hawk.” You smiled. “Did you get something to eat?” 
“Not sure what all the fuss was about, it was hot mush.” 
You shrugged your shoulders. “But you ate something other than pudding cups.” 
“Eating is overrated.” He looked up at you, a small curl to his lips. “Thank you. For looking after me and my boy.”
“It’s my pleasure.” 
After that the two of you maintained a routine. Wayne would go shower, eat, try to find somewhere to stay while you remained at Eddie’s side, ears always perked for the consistent beeping of the heart monitor. It quickly felt as if you were visiting an old friend. Each day you brought something different to occupy yourself - a book (which you read aloud to Eddie), some knitting (you didn’t talk much these times, just allowing your string of curses to fill the silence as the yarn got tangled), and sometimes you wouldn’t bring anything at all. Sometimes you would merely sit by his bedside, talking into the void and hoping you would hear something back. You never did. 
On one mundane Tuesday morning, you strolled into the room, Wayne’s coffee in hand. You were oblivious to the unusual levels of noise leaving the room, simply walking over the threshold to complete your daily ritual. 
You froze. 
Wayne sat close to the bed, clutching Eddie’s hand as he chatted endlessly. This didn’t take you by surprise, having found Wayne engaging in full conversations with Eddie’s comatose body on many occasions. What did take you by surprise was how he was talking to Eddie - a very much awake Eddie. 
The coffee cup slipped out of your grip. The hot liquid sloshed onto the floor, burning your legs yet you couldn’t register the fleeting pain, gaze transfixed on the boy you had believed would never wake up. 
Both pairs of eyes spun towards you. Wayne smiled widely, frowning as he took in the coffee dripping off of your calves. 
“Are you alright, Y/N?”
Wordlessly you nodded, gulping nervously. “I’ll uh, I’ll go grab a mop.” 
Without uttering another word you turned on your heel, marching down the ward corridor. Casting a quick glance over your shoulder, you saw Wayne hadn’t followed you out. You collapsed against the closest wall, body slumping. 
He was alive, he was awake. Suddenly all of the conversations you believed to be one sided played on repeat in your brain. Oh god, you’d told him you wished you two would be friends. A wave of embarrassment washed over you. You prayed he couldn't recall any of it, just so you could save your dignity. 
But you couldn’t avoid him forever. 
Sucking in a deep breath, you pulled yourself upright. You marched towards the supply closet, filling a bucket with some water and snatched up the mop. As you were walking back towards the room, you could overhear snippets of conversation drifting out into the hallway. 
“This entire time?” 
Wayne’s laughter filtered into the corridor. “There wasn’t a day that would go by without them coming in here. I’ve got all the time in the world for them - they helped pull me back in during my darkest hour.” 
“Uncle Wayne…” You could hear the sadness seeping into Eddie’s voice. You didn’t want to interrupt their moment, waiting for a lull in conversation so you could re-enter. After a few minutes you grabbed your chance, walking in with the mop in hand, pretending to not have heard a word. 
“I see someone finally decided to wake up.” You teased, dunking the mop into the bucket, letting the mop soak in the soapy water. 
“Disappointed I can talk back now?” 
You occupied yourself with cleaning up the spilled coffee, hoping he didn’t catch the embarrassment clouding your features. “Guess I’ll just have to find another comatose boy to vent to.” 
Eddie laughed, a noise you never believed you would hear again. It was nice, you took a moment to relish in the sound. “Nice to know I’m so easily replaceable.” 
You matched his mood, a huff of a laugh passing your lips. You finished mopping, tidying away the fallen cup and looked at Wayne, who seemed the most alive you’d ever seen him. A smile curved onto your lips. They didn’t need you anymore. 
“Do you want another coffee Wayne?” He shook his head no. You picked up the bucket, sending the pair of them a bright grin. “I’ll leave you two to it - I reckon you’ve got quite a bit of catching up to do.” 
You retreated from the room, thankful that Eddie was finally awake and his uncle had him back. Deep down, sadness took root. No longer would you sit by Eddie’s bedside reading, knitting or talking. It felt like you had lost a friend. Shame quickly took its place, how could you think so selfishly when Eddie now had his life back? 
You brushed your feelings away, pushing down the pain whilst you attended to the rest of your duties for the day. 
~
Each day that passed, your days were getting less busy. More patients were returning home, the aftermath of the earthquake slowly but surely ebbing away. Beds were left empty in the hospital and eventually, they no longer needed you everyday. You found yourself lost on what to do, having buckets of time and no way to spend it. You were accustomed to spending hours walking the sterile halls, to spreading happiness to patients and trying to brighten their day. It was good work, work you took pride in, and now you had returned back to your usual Saturday mornings you found yourself craving to be back there. 
Your muscles acted with a mind of their own. You found yourself at the hospital, walking the familiar route to his room. You patted down imaginary dust from your jeans, suddenly self conscious. This would be the first time you had seen him outside of your working hours. 
You greeted a few nurses along the route, spending a few minutes chatting to your favourite cleaner. As much as you enjoyed the interactions, you were itching to already be down the corridor and in the room where you belonged. 
When you arrived at his door, your feet no longer cooperated. You wanted to walk in, self doubts suddenly plaguing you. To him, you were a volunteer, someone who was there to complete a duty. He could never comprehend the friendship you had woven with him over your visits. Maybe he would find this weird, you seeing him during allocated visiting times. Maybe he would kick you out. Maybe he would report you to the nurses. Maybe he had forgotten who you were, you hadn’t seen him since last Saturday. 
“Who’s there?” He called out, breaking you from your spiral. “I promise I won't bite.” 
You gathered all of your courage and flung the door open. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, a wide grin quickly overtaking his features. “Y/N!” 
You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you had been holding. He remembered your name, he recognised you outside of your candy striper uniform. 
“I haven’t seen you in forever - I thought you’d forgotten about me!” Eddie pouted, gesturing for you to come in. You obeyed, stepping into the room and falling into your favourite seat. “I didn’t realise you owned anything other than a candy striper uniform.”
You laughed heartily, relaxing back into the chair. A bout of silence enveloped the pair of you, and you thought back to the time where you sat here by his side, listening attentively to the monitors. That felt like a lifetime ago. 
Eddie broke the silence, playing with his fingers. “Have you been to the bookstore?” 
Your brows furrowed. “Bookstore?” 
“You know, the one with the D&D tables?” 
Your head fell into your hands. You prayed your hands could hide you from him, you could disappear and he would forget all of this ever happened. You mustered a squeak, unable to face the truth but thirsty to know the answers. “How much did you hear?” 
“All of it, I think.” His hands reached out, gently pulling at yours. Slowly you peeked up at him, your shoulders sagging at the sight of his shy smile. “You know, when I heard the coolest kid in Hawkins wanted to be my friend, I knew I had to wake up.” 
“Oh shut up,” you giggled, averting your gaze from him. “I’m nowhere near the coolest kid.”
“I heard what Wayne told you, you know, about the drawings? God, I wanted so hard to wake up right there and then to shut him up.” He shook his head, traces of a smile on his lips. “I always looked forward to that class, pretty sure that’s the only class I never skipped.” 
“I… I didn’t know.” You couldn’t wrap your head around Eddie’s words, scrambling for an explanation. “Why?” 
“Because it was the only time I could spend with my friend.” 
You couldn’t hide your smile, shaking your head. “Why didn’t we ever hang outside of class?” 
“I don’t know, I thought you wouldn’t want to be seen with the town’s freak.” 
“I don’t care about any of that.” You laughed again, shaking your head. “Why are we both so awkward?” 
Eddie joined your laughter, wincing as he jostled his side. 
“You know, I think I saw a pen around here.” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows. “What do you say we reminisce about the good ol’ days?” 
You gleefully obliged, scavenging the nurses office for a pen. You were by Eddie’s side in an instant, assuming the position and uncapping the pen. 
That’s how you spent the rest of your night, pen ink sprawling along Eddie’s arm as you talked way past visiting hours, forging a friendship that would last a lifetime.
stranger things masterlist
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robot-horde · 7 months
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Rescue Bots Live Reaction
Here we go! Doing the same thing I did with TFA taking goofy notes for funsies. Episodes 1 & 2. I have a lot of thoughts.
Looks like Netflix might only have season one. God I HATE how often i have to jump from service to service just to watch the entirety of a Transformers series. I gave up on RiD cus it was too hard to find after season 1.
Why do he look like that?
Ah yes, gotta make sure we meet our crashed spaceship quota for a TF series.
K cool so we got some future tech like in TFA
Chase is like the most normal TF name ever? It's just a normal name, like i get it, but still it's funny to me.
Huh I like Optimus' logic of picking Heatwave to lead because he's questioning.
God am I gonna end up loving the kinda awkward, blunt cop again???? I'm getting TFA Prowl vibes. am I really that predictable??? (spoiler alert: I am)
Very cool bike lock
"Nepo kids get access to cool alien robots" is gonna be an interesting headline when people figure it out
"that will destroy the harmonious nature of the plaza's design" oh I like him
If I had a nickle for every time robot animatronics came to life in TF, I'd have two nickles.
HIS APRON!!! I was SO caught off guard by him wearing a bikini arpon
Blades having sore controls? Very interesting.
Blades just doesn't wanna be yelled at and yeah I think that's fair
Omg Chase responding "classified" when asked for his name.
Yeah i like him. Shame on me for being ACAB until it's transformers
Design wise, I actually love how their jaws are. It's weird, but that's why I like it. The more alien the better.
Kade, don't be such a massive bitch.
I appreciate Graham pointing out how riding inside them is admittedly a little weird.
Kade stop being a jerk challenge: impossible
HAHAHA Optimus being like "Aw man sucks for you. Good luck!" and heatwave's jaw dropping was so good.
Chase suggesting they go in order by height to avoid going first
Blades <3 he's got cards with get to know you questions STOP
THE SEWER IS FILLED WITH LAVA??? This is so weird and i love it
"Boulder's not dissing you"
Oh yeah just casually drilled to the center of the earth in the 1930s to make a FAKE volcano for the worlds fair. Who came up with this?
Blades reminds me of Cyberverse Whirl and i like it
Echolocation to find a volcano's off switch. Again, who comes up with this?
How can cody see all this? Is there some drone following them around that we just don't see?
I think it's really fun they have screens on the inside with their faces so you can talk to them.
Wow, Kade actually beat the "stop being a jerk challenge"
Ok this show is cute and the humor is pretty funny and it's got some absurdity in it and boy do I love absurdity.
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kobikiyama · 8 months
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CR House
Arpon Arquitectura
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stunninginteriors · 8 months
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♦ Home Inspirations | Interiors, Architectures -  @stunninginteriors
✨ CR House by ©️ Arpon Arquitectura (Ar) Córdoba, Argentina // 3444 ft² // 📷 Gonzalo Viramonte " .. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 2 𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 3 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦. . 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘢 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘢, 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘓𝘢 𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘢, 𝘊ó𝘳𝘥𝘰𝘣𝘢, 𝘈𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘢. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦-𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 1,200 𝘴𝘲𝘮 𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘴, 𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦. . .𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴. 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦. 𝘚𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘤𝘺, 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.. "
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ocasoinefable · 4 months
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Arpón de espina son tus lágrimas
Las velas se consumen con un romanticismo que lleva a recordar. Diez años sin verla, su rostro se marca como una estatua de marfil. poco me reconoce, vagamente menciona mi nombre, enciende una vela luego de ofrecerme una taza de café. “¿cómo te ha ido?” titubea una vez más mi nombre en sus labios delgados, en su cabello gris y la piel que parece quitar con dificultad de las letras. su casa es amplia, ordenada y huele a canela, es una noche tibia, a veces veo que sus manos tiemblan, su mirada se pierde mientras ella vive en otro tiempo. Menciona a mi padre, lo hace esperando una respuesta, decirle que su hijo no vino porque el trabajo no le da tregua, pero que siempre la piensa y que le manda un enorme beso; esto espera que le diga, me gustaría hacerlo, creer que será así, pero no tengo el valor. espero unos minutos  hasta que vuelva su lucidez; ahí, bajo una sonrisa irónica y un nudo en la garganta recuerda que hace años murió. Su voz se vuelve más lenta, casi como la luz de las velas se encierran en sí misma. “Juan de Dios... noches como estas me lo recuerdan. cada vez que el se iba y me dejaba a mi sola en la finca con los niños sufría por cada noche ante la oscuridad, y solo tenía una vela como único consuelo de verme sola y oscuras. Nunca le he dicho a nadie lo que te contaré a ti. lo sufrí y lo lloré a solas, con esa nudo que no desaparece aunque pasen los años, nadie fue testigo de las mañanas en las que sonreí bajo el calor de sus besos o el ahogo de su dolor, mientras me ahogaba tratando de encontrar el valor para olvidar nuestro fin y hacer como si nada sucediera, nadie sabe de las oraciones que aclame en sus labios y deje en los míos en cada anochecer, y ha de ser así hasta mi muerte. nadie conoció de la esperanza que guarde en mi corazón hasta que se volvió humo con el silencio. a nadie le conté de los besos que le di mientras el tiempo se nos iba, del enojo que calle ante las miradas, del desespero y lo que aguante” Seis mese después, esto contado lo que no digo, como ella suele decirme; bueno o no, virtud o vicio, escribes para expresar todas las voces, para mostrar otro mundo, por quienes quizás no lo hacen y no quieren morir junto al olvido de su voz.
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st-louis · 5 months
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10/26/23 | i love arm.
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