#called out!

[zeninsama-archive]

remembering when the weather was nice and my bf rolled my car window down for me so i could stick my head out and when i did he was like awww puppy is going for a ride.. like u think this is a game??

[dearotome]

Called Out!

So, Boris is trying to convince Alice to move to the Train Station. Gray tells him to stop, because Alice is troubled. Boris retorts that he's playing the good guy again, and that wouldn't he be happy if Alice moved there.

Boris (imitating Gray) goes, "'If it weren't during this time, I'd have liked to help...' didn't you say that?"

Hitting the nail on the head, Gray goes, "....! That's...well..." Called out. Gray got called out by Boris.

[xaallo]

“...”

He’s making such a face.

[jomiddlemarch]

The exponent of breath

“Come now, Emil, thou must explain thyself,” Friedrich said, gesturing at the many spots daubed in flour, in place of an antimacassar on his favorite armchair, scattered on the worn Persian rug like a spoor, streaks on the dark curtains and Josephine’s equally dark skirt, the similarity of the fabric making him wonder if she’d actually cut up a dress to keep the sitting room from being in the public view. Franz himself was head-to-toe made ghostly with what was supposed to have been tomorrow’s loaf, his soft blue eyes perplexed and his chin set stubbornly. His golden curls were completely white. He had refused to make any confession, admission or allegation, citing the universal rule of childhood, to band together against adults, any adult, however kindly, even Onkel Friedrich. Jo had shrugged, her lovely grey eyes bemused; she seemed unaware there was a trace of the flour across her cheek, making her look like a young girl. The matching dusting in her chestnut curls was a vision of her future.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” Emil said stoutly.

“And yet there shall be no fresh bread at breakfast in the morning. The rug must be taken out and beaten, the curtains brushed. Tante Josephine’s dress will need to be laundered,” Friedrich said, watching his nephew’s narrow shoulders droop. He suspected it was the trouble to Tante Josephine and not the sparse breakfast that made Emil sorry and was glad that his nephew’s heart was bigger than any appetite.

“No need to fret about my dress, Emil. It’s been treated far worse by me, as Onkle Friedrich knows—I have a bad habit of standing before the fire still,” Jo interceded, giving their nephew a comradely grin. She found it very hard to be stern with the boys but they rarely needed much correction.

“I’m awfully sorry, Tante Josephine. I’ll help with the laundry and all the other mess. A good first mate will always swab the deck if he needs to! And I won’t take any popovers at Sunday dinner,” Emil said, biting his lip at the true sacrifice of that March delicacy, the golden popover.

“You’ll hurt Hannah’s feelings then. We’ll find another way for you to make amends,” Jo said.

“I still haven’t heard any explanation, Emil,” Friedrich said. They were good boys but they must still be disciplined, called to account for their faults, though they would never be beaten for any transgression. They feared his disappointment, not his belt or his hand, and that was as it should be.

“It was the assignment about bees, mein Onkel. It was talking about how they go from flower to flower, picking up pollen and leaving it behind…how one bee could only touch so many flowers by itself but if it touched other bees, well, it would be so many more flowers thou canst hardly believe it! And Franz didn’t believe it, so I told him to get some flour, for the pollen, and we’d see. Because that’s what the word in the book was about, experience, experential, and now he does see, don’t you, Franz?” Emil said.

“It meant numbers. Like the ones on a graph,” Franz retorted. “I said so but you didn’t believe me.”

“Exponential? That is the word, is it not?” Friedrich interrupted, only smiling a little at the confusion. There was a great deal of flour strewn about and the account books were so tightly managed, it was a feat to keep Jo in ink and himself in the cheapest pipe tobacco. And yet, he could not help his amusement.

“Amy was that way, when she was a girl. I think hardly fifty per cent of what she said was the correct word. Though in her case, she was always concerned with elegance, not science,” Jo laughed. Friedrich could easily imagine his graceful sister-in-law as a little girl most occupied with her little vanities; even now, he noticed how she carefully arranged the fringed ends of her silk sash or straightened her lace collar and cuffs upon entering a room. Her sisters had grown used to it and her husband beamed at her for the simple act of breathing. Friedrich was certain he was the only who observed and considered what it meant for a grown woman to act so.

“Emil, experiential means based on experience. Exponential is a term from mathematics, about an escalating growth that is greater than the arithmetic addition of one and another. We will review it at thy lesson tomorrow. Go now and fetch a dustpan and cloth so you may begin to clean the sitting room. Franz, thou must wash. Thoroughly,” Friedrich said. The boys trotted from the room briskly, both satisfied than the matter had been resolved without much more than Onkel’s gentle scolding. Friedrich walked over to Josephine, still smiling over the malapropism and the memories it had provoked. She was irresistible.

“Thou hast something, just here, liebling,” he said, brushing at her cheek.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said, shaking her head slightly. He leaned in, put a hand at her slender waist, and kissed her, rather more ardently than the wasted flour might merit. Jo, however, merited the most ardent, most tender, most passionate of caresses and had begun to be shyly pleased by them, instead of brusquely dismissive. He hoped next for the shyness to disappear, leaving her desires unapologetic, confident. His to gratify.

“Perhaps I shan’t miss the fresh bread tomorrow, after all,” he said, smiling at her, not shy at all.

[thewollfgang]

@hiccup-is-left-handed listen,,,I see a big, dumb, beautiful man with a cool scar and a mysterious past and I'm hooked. I just can't help myself. It's my type.

also I called myself out the moment I wrote it.

We are self aware thirsters in this house.

[angelichl]

the first one I get harry I fuckidngbsn hate u

[skyybridge]

@bamsara more like DAMNsara git gud