#‘how will you get the money in time?’

[ms-demeanor]

Kids, we know how interest works, right? A while back I made a post about how credit card interest can screw you, but we know how interest can be good for you too, right?

I suspect we don't know about this because on one of the posts I made about it someone said something about how it is evil that money can make money, but you know that's not just for the ultrawealthy, right? That is legitimately something that you can and should take advantage of in some kind of retirement/savings/investment account.

Let us say that you are twenty years old, have no money to put into a savings account, but have a job that pays you well enough that you've got twenty dollars to spare from each paycheck.

Let us say that you put that into a normal savings account; normal savings accounts have an average interest rate of .56 APY. Let us say you are going to be working until you are sixty, and that you will add forty dollars to that account every month (twenty bucks from each paycheck) for a total of $480 per year.

At the end of 40 years you would have about $21.5k.

That's a pretty good chunk of change! twenty thousand dollars is a lifechanging amount of money. But look at the total interest. In forty years you would have accrued only $2300 in interest.

Now, instead, let us imagine that you are a member of a credit union that offers you a free, high-yield savings account with a decent APY. Everything else being the same, but putting that money in an account with a 4% return does this:

Your total contributions that you put in stay the same, but the amount of money you have at the end of forty years more than doubles.

Let's say you have a thousand dollars to put in the account at the beginning and run it again.

Low interest account: you add $1000 at the start and have an extra $1200 at the end.

High interest account: you add $1000 at the start and have an extra $4000 at the end.

There are many, many very stable opportunities for savings that will grow your money. Fifty thousand dollars isn't a retirement plan, but it's a hell of a lot better than what you would have if you just stuck cash in a savings account or if you didn't save any money at all.

I know how hard it can be to save. I know it feels impossible to put money aside, but even if you start with no money and can tuck away five dollars a week you can get a LOT out of that five dollars a week.

This certainly isn't "you can't buy a house because you get coffee at the cafe," but it something that can HELP.

Now, let's suppose you're not twenty. Let's suppose you're in my boat, and you're (almost) forty and you're going to be saving for twenty years. You still don't have a lot of cash, but you know it has less time to grow interest, so you double your contribution and you put in forty dollars for each paycheck for a total of $960 a year.

That is extremely very much not the same thing as putting in forty bucks a month for twenty years. Instead of your interest being nearly one and a half times the amount of your contributions, it is around half.

If you are a young person (honestly even if you are not a young person) and it is in any way possible for you to start putting money into any kind of an investment account, you should do so as soon as humanly possible. The earlier you do it, the more interest you will have and the more money you will end up with when you are nearing retirement age.

This is how individual retirement plans work. This is what a 401K does, but sometimes it does that with matching contributions from your employer (so your employer matches whatever you put into the account up to a certain percentage of your pay). 401K accounts also often have higher APYs than high yield savings accounts, though they have more limitations on how and when the money can be pulled out.

If you are broke as fuck and never learned anything about investing or interest from your family because your family was broke as fuck too, now is the time to learn. r/PersonalFinance is a reasonable resource (and if you ever happen to have a windfall that's the first place I would point you for figuring out how to make the most of it) for learning about this stuff.

Thinking about money sucks! Being afraid you'll never be able to retire sucks! Having to figure out how to save sucks! But there are tools out there that even very fucking broke people can use to make that suck less.

[ma7moudgaza2]

How can I help my family in Gaza?

I am Mahmoud, a resident of northern Gaza. Since the war started, everything that touches a decent life has disappeared, and everything has become a mess.

I woke up in the morning and found that I had to stand in line for drinking water so that my family and I could have some.

I woke up in the morning and realized that I had to wake up before dawn to get in line for bread.

War, destruction, and killing,

The next morning, I had to make a fateful decision; should we stay in the house we were in or leave it? My whole family had to evacuate because the occupation issued evacuation orders for our residential area, and I didn’t know what was right or wrong…

Eventually, we left our homes, our belongings, and all our sweet memories, and we went wherever the army ordered us. After a while, the situation calmed down in our area.

I woke up to the sound of a phone call, "We reached your house after the army withdrew," but we didn’t find the house, nor did we find your family’s house.

I didn’t sleep that day; I sat with myself, wishing I could find time to mourn my life. My phone rang, "Come on, Mahmoud, let’s eat together." But Mahmoud had no money left! We spent everything; how could I go without food?

I woke up after 200 days of war, talked to my mom: "Mom, I want to look for internet and electricity to go back to work and support you, or I’ll stay with you to fill water and manage food." My mom said, "No, go, my son, the important thing is that you return to work."

I woke up after that; my mom went out to fill water, and my heart was breaking, but I had to get up and find a place to go back to work for her.

I managed to get a laptop from your support and found a place with electricity and internet at such a time because it was almost impossible. I also got a new tent, and things went well, thank God. However, at this time, everything turned back to how it was before; prices rose again, and famine returned amid the closure of crossings. Everything became worse than before; you can’t even provide for your daily expenses to the point that two or three days can pass without eating bread. Sometimes you manage with rice, bulgur, or lentils, but for how long?

How many mornings do we have left in this life? We don’t know.

The question is: dear reader, will you wake up to the disaster we are in? Will you realize that we truly need financial and moral support to be able to continue?

You can donate here

https://gofund.me/8044910a

My campaign is now $21,439 of the short goal of $25,000 We are still a long way off but I trust you guys to help us before we collapse

Or via paypal

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[irisintheafterglow]

itoshi sae has no idea how you do it.

classwork, homework, midterms, exams, two jobs, and a lively group of friends? it all sounds so unnecessary to him, these things that would be distractions from his dream. but for you, it sustains you and encourages you to keep going. how differently our minds work, he thinks to himself when he has a rare day to spend on your couch and you're typing away at some assignment on your laptop.

"why do you do that?" you don't respond the first time he asks and he gently calls your name, even though you're barely three feet away. you turn to him with a tired look and something pangs inside his chest. "why bother doing that?"

"bother doing what?"

"whatever it is you're doing right now." he nods at your glaring laptop screen filled with words he can't even begin to understand, some final before your university goes on winter break.

"because it's part of my degree?" there's no malice in your words, just genuine confusion, just like there's no accusations in his words, just concern. "if i fail this class, i don't graduate."

"why do you need to graduate, or have a degree in the first place?"

"because i need a job, my love," you explain patiently. "we've had this conversation before. going to school means i can get a well-paying job to sustain myself."

"why do you need to sustain yourself when you have me?" you blink at him and his blank face. the only sign of emotion is the slight pinch between his eyebrows; he was truly puzzled why he couldn't just set you up for life. dating itoshi sae is like being an unwilling sugar baby.

"i'm not going to leech off your earnings," you chuckle in disbelief. "i'm not going to use you to make sure i have a comfortable life. i love you, and my kind of love stays whether we have money or not." he shifts awkwardly in his seat and his mouth pouts the tiniest amount. he obviously didn't like your reply.

"whatever i'm doing, it isn't enough for you," he states quietly.

without another word, you exhale through your nose and shut your laptop. you place it on the coffee table before crawling over and maneuvering your way into his arms. he gladly accepts you, sliding down the couch's armrest so that you're nearly lying on top of him. it's quiet for a few moments, not in an uncertain way but in a way that said both of you were figuring out how to articulate your thoughts.

"i just think that--"

"you don't need to--" you both begin your explanations at the same time and the huff of his laugh vibrates against your cheek. "you go first," you tell him.

"i was saying that, if you wanted me to," he inhales and tries to tiptoe around what he wants to say before deciding to just crush it with his foot, "i can take care of you without you needing a degree." a certain selfish part of him wanted you there for every single victory and ladder rung he ascended, not because he thought you owed him, but because he owed you. you, who weathered his darkest of moods and harshest of snaps. he owed you for dealing with his bullshit, so he figured, why should you need to lift a finger when you've already done so much for him? "i owe you that much for everything that you've seen me through."

"you don't owe me anything, itoshi sae. loving you is not transactional, nor have i ever wanted it to be."

"everything is transactional, mi amor," he argues and the pet name makes your heartrate increase. "give and take, it's how the world flows. shouldn't your university classes be teaching you that?" your eyes have fluttered shut on his chest, but you still hear the smirk in his joke.

"believe it or not, mister 'fame is the only thing that matters to me,' there are transactions beyond material goods."

"i know that," he says indignantly. "i also know that you're wrong."

"am i?"

"yes," he affirms. "i don't only care about fame. i care about you too, obviously."

"see, sae? give and take. i give you all i am--"

"and you take all i am."

"body and soul?"

"and everything in between," he finishes, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before settling into the pillows. "rest, mi amor. you've paid more attention to school than to me lately, and that's an unequal transaction."

[biteyoubiteme]

cat got your tongue?

yeonjun x fem!reader

synopsis: you and yeonjun are both models.

warnings: 🔞!!! spit kink if you squint, no protection, creampie, dom!yeonjun, manhandling, bondage (uses his tie on readers wrists), fingering, oral (f!rec),mentions of cum eating prob forgot some sorry

wc: 2.7k me when I lie and say these will all be 1-2k

an: I do not think this is my best work I think I just struggle with dom!member and I apologize lol this wasnt really requested but was taken as such ily @apeachty this was sent before the event post but on the same day so im adding it to the tag anyways lol this is not proof read forgive me sweet angels ill fall on my sword for you.

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

You would have to spend over a month traveling together. Over a month of back and forth, car rides, flights, hotel rooms, runways, and photo shoots all while trying to deny dating rumors. The contract was easy enough, but the money earned was less impressive than the exposer. To be the face of a company for an entire season, tied to one of the biggest names in modeling history, not only the fashion house but the model himself who set trends and made people famous for one little interaction. It was a brand deal people dreamed of. 

The pen cleared the signature box faster than you ever thought you could sign your name. But then the nerves set in. It wasn't over doing your job, modeling, although hard, was now second nature. You worked well with almost every photographer you came across, following instructions without a fret, even when it came to runway you knew your walk was one companies begged to have on their sets. 

But it was him that left you questioning your abilities. He had been the only clause in the contract that made you second guess yourself. Yeonjun was well known not only in the modeling community itself but globally. His face was splashed across countless brands, ads, and billboards. You couldn't go a day without seeing him at least once on your timeline. Even at the grocery store, in line at the checkout, he looked back at you with his perfect pouty lips from the front of a magazine you could only dream of being on the cover of as often as he was. 

“You were specifically asked for,” your agent reminded you after you brought up the status difference. It wasn't as if you were not known, companies wanted you well enough that you wouldn't need the check from this single one month booking. It was the caliber at which he was held. “They want you and I wouldn't be the one to turn them away when this much press will be on you. Imagine the number of people calling to get one shoot in with you, he brings eyes,” 

It wasn't until your first photoshoot that you realized that he would be more of a pain in your ass than an inspiration. He was never mean, you would have to give him that. But it was his overwhelming kindness mixed with the teasing tone he always used on you that somehow pushed your buttons just right. It didn't help that the first time that you walked into the studio you were so shy, little smiles shared with your hands folded in front of you trying to wring out your anxiety. Yeonjun wasn't even on set yet, having shown up a few minutes later with his arms full of coffee, passing them out to each staff member, knowing them all by name. “It's nice to meet you finally. I didn't know what you would like but this is what I picked out for the little mouse,” 

“Little mouse?” it was the first thing you said to him, your head tilted just enough for him to take in the question and know the slip up of a nickname was going to stick especially when you couldn't get through the photoshoot without an apology. Shoulders stiff with his eyes on you, your nerves making you angry instead of anxious and it all had to do with the little grin set at the edge of yeonjun mouth. “I'll just step out,” and you hated how improved your film was from his absence, your heart calming down its rapt beading. 

Of course you got over it eventually, or at least the stiffness. You couldn't afford to be stiff when standing next to yeonjun who was naturally relaxed about everything. He would slink to his spot on set, lay his lazy gaze in your direction, and get all of his shots in the minimal amount of frames as if he was born to be in front of the camera. It was annoying. 

The two of you would be set up next to each other in hair and makeup, your bottom lip is finely brushed with the end of a glosses wand when he would lean on the back of your chair. His hands were always just hovering over your shoulders, never quite touching but enough to feel the heat from his palms, his head leaning next to yours looking back at you in the mirror, “You guys did such a good job, don't we just look like the perfect pair?” he would quirk an eyebrow at you, the two of you staring each other down while the staff agreed, but he was always waiting for your answer, “don't we little mouse?” 

“If you think so,” your response always made him chuckle as if you didn't see the way the media was talking about your contract together, as if you didn't feel the chemistry between the two of you. People were still talking about your first runway together, the closing of the show for one of the best collections put on display that week. 

The lead up was so chaotic, with dressing rooms stacked full of models and assistants, the floor a mess of people undressing and trying to make their quick changes as fast as they could before their names were called. Even yeonjun could feel the pressure in the room, the two of you in your designated corner stripping down back to back. 

The crowded space made everyone bump into each other. For the smallest second you were caught by the sight of him taking his shirt off, pulling it at the back of his collar showing the way his jeans hung so low on his hips that his happy trail was on display. You had turned, taking off your shirt, shoulder knocked by someone coming to do your hair, it made you stumble back into yeonjun, his hand right at the small of your back holding you upright as you fumbled with the zipper on your pants. “Careful,” he muttered, your heart in your ears as you kicked your shoes away from your space. 

The two of you were used to seeing each other in different versions of undress after all the photoshoots shared together. Comfortable enough now to be somewhat friends after all the car rides, the few interviews, and hours spent on a set together. It's what you accounted for as your key element to having such a good walk together on the runway. Every step matched, the energy vibrating off the two of you as if you had been a duo your whole life instead of just having been paired together less than a month ago. 

Even at the afterparty people swarmed you two, asking about your relationship as if they could sense the livewire of that conversation hanging around your heads. It was the first time you had ever seen him flustered enough to stutter over an answer. “I um- you never know,” 

The paparazzi loved the two of you, the crowd outside any event was packed full of them, their cameras following you around the city. The two of you always shared a car to your hotels, yeonjuns hand warm in yours leading you through the flash of every blinding light while you tried to shield your eyes. He would pull you in front of him when you finally reached the waiting car door, hand on your back gilding you in before climbing in after. 

Even shutting the door behind the two of you only muffled the sounds of their questions to a faint murmur. It isn't until the car pulls away from the venue that yeonjun speaks up. 

“You did well tonight, you looked…” 

“Good, I hope,” 

“You always look good, better than good, i was trying to come up with a different adjective,” it wasn't the first time he's complimented you, but it never stopped you from logging it away to giggle over it in private. “Sometimes I don't know what to say to you,” 

You chuckle, “I never took you as shy,” 

Strands of his hair hang in his eyes, head tilted just enough to catch what little light makes it in from the tinted windows, “no, not shy, just cautious,” 

“What, afraid you'll break me? Hurt my feelings? Or maybe my ego will get too big,” 

He lets out a soft breathy laugh, the sound taking up the space in the backseat. You loved the way his chuckles went down your spine, like a caress of his fingers on the skin you wished he touched. “You’d let me get close enough to break you?” 

“I don't think you could,” it's a light jab and yet it sets everything off kelter. The car ride charged with an energy you couldn't get back into its box. Now opened, the two of you looked back at each other as if you hadn't felt this pot simmering over. 

His eyes flickered down to your mouth, his tongue running over his bottom lip before he shrugged, “Okay,” he loved that you wanted to play this game with him, as if you hadn't always been slowly picking away at the short wall between you two. It was inevitable that you would end up pressed up against the mirrored walls in the elevator up to your hotel floor. 

He wasn't even going to do anything, he was going to let you go to your room while he mulled over your conversation, picturing exactly what he wanted to do to you. But then you leaned back against those mirrors, your body reflected around him as the doors slid closed behind him. Your eyes traced the line of him, lashes hooded just enough for you to look through, like a siren on the rocks, beckoning him closer. You didn't stop him when he cupped your jaw, thumb running over your bottom lip, nose dipping to yours. Even when he gave you enough time to pull away, lips ghosting over yours when he asked, “You'll be good for me, won't you?” 

Your answer is hummed right into his mouth when he kisses you, devouring you, pushing you into the corner giving you nowhere to go. His body is hot against yours, cageing you in as he kisses down your jaw, sloppy wet spots cooling in the air as he nips at your neck. “God, imagine them having to cover up all the marks I leave on you during tomorrow's shoot,” his hand is heavy on your hip, dragging down you cup your cunt over your jeans, “Everyone is going to know I fucking ruined this pussy for anyone but me,” 

Your whimper is eaten by the sound of the doors opening behind him, your tight grip on his shirt not loosening when he drags you out after him. He pushes you to his bed when you get past the threshold of his door. His slow walk to the nightstand to flick on the light gives you enough time to think about exactly what's happening. 

He loosens his tie, veiny hands curled around the fabric as he nods his chin in your direction, “Take your clothes off,” it was only a few hours ago when he saw you topless, and yet your fingers shake when you reach for your hem. “Don't be shy now little mouse, always all talk and no play,” 

The heat on your cheeks spreads to your ears at the nickname. Yeonjun takes to matching your state of undress by tossing his tie next to you before unbuttoning his shirt, the outline of him in his pants is mouthwatering. He watches the way you try to speak, hands twisting in the duvet not realizing he's come up so close to you before he's hooked his hand on your chin, tilting your head up before slipping his thumb into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. He swirls the digit around, grinning at how willing you are to follow his command even without words, “one day ill fuck this pretty mouth, but for now, I need you on your hands and knees for me,” he shoves your face away, putting his slick finger in his mouth to taste you. 

Turning around and having him at your back is both chilling and exhilarating, not knowing when he's going to touch you until his hands are sliding up your back, unhooking your bra, and letting it fall off of you. He lets his hand press between your shoulder blades, pushing down hard enough for your arms to give way beneath you, the side of your face pressed into the sheets. “Every photoshoot I kept thinking about what it would be like to finally get you into my bed, I kept thinking about how I would finally fuck you, how exactly I could use your body,” 

His hands slide down your arms, tugging them behind you until you whimper, the silky material of his tie sliding along your fingers as he wraps up your wrists to keep you in place. “And every time I just came right back to thinking about putting you just like this, fucking you dumb; using you like my perfect little toy,” 

With one hand holding your tied wrists his other slips down to tease you over your soaked panties, fingers following the lines of your cunt like he was made to map you out by touch. You can't even form words and he hasn't done anything, your pathetic little whimpers pushing him further and further. “So quiet now, I wonder if it's because someone's scared I'll break her?” 

“Please,” it's so soft you don't think he's even heard you, but he's aching for every little sound. 

“Please what? What do you want me to do?” he pushes your panties aside, grinning at how wet you've gotten over so little. Your hips push back into his hand, his fingers slipping into you just enough to prep you for the stretch of taking him. 

“Fuck me, break me, anything-” he's so quick to press his cock into you that you're gasping losing all thoughts. His fingers had done little to let you grasp the sheer size of him, even all your slick couldn't help that pleasure mixed with pain as his tip kissed your cervix. 

He doesn't even hold off from moving, not once he's finally felt your warm gummy walls sucking him, so perfect he doesn't know how he will ever stop from coming back to you. He keeps one hand on your hip, fingers digging into your flesh, the other wrapped around the slack of his tie, tugging your arms and using them as leverage to keep his harsh pace as he fucks into your greedy cunt. 

You feel so full, so completely stuffed that you're a mess of incoherent moans mixing with the slapping sounds of your connecting bodies. Yeonjun is mesmerized by the way your ass ripples with each slap of his hips; mesmerized by the way his cock is disappearing in and out of you. “So fucking perfect,” he's grunting, “I'm going to fill up and then eat my little mouse out until she screams, kiss your pussy better after taking me so well, does that sound good?” 

“Yes, god yes!” Your voice is muffled by the way you are pressed into the mattress, arms slightly numb as he pummels himself into you, thrusts getting sloppier with the build up of his orgasm. He tells himself that he will pull out but then he's cumming, body shuddering as you clench around him, his rumbling moans following the steady pulse of his leaking cock. 

When he pulls out of you he watches the way the dribbling cream coats your puffy lips. Untying your hands he lets you roll onto your back, slotting himself between your legs and attaching his mouth to your swollen clit. Your fingers still gaining feeling fall to his hair, pulling on the strands and he brings your orgasm back to the surface. The obscene sounds coming from his fingers trying to match his previous pace makes him chuckle, the feeling of his laugh vibrating against your clit. It takes little work for you to tumble into your orgasm when he curls his fingers just right, your body following every command he lays down. 

His hand is covered in your combined cum when he's done with you, the stickiness capturing both of your attention before he shoves them into your waiting mouth.

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[penvisions]

stages of devotion {holiday hustle}

Pairing: Holiday Impaired! Joel Miller x Expert Holiday Baker! Reader

Summary: The holidays came fast this year, but with it comes a father and daughter pair you didn't ever expect to see again.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: holiday triggers, holiday stress, baking stress, food industry triggers, family issues, minor off screen family dynamics, super soft yearning, mutual pining, sexual tension, smut, p in v, creampie, joel's dirty talk deserves its own warning, lemme know if i missed any!

A/N: so its a few days after the holiday that i announced this on. so so sorry for the tease, y'all. finally made it to my "weekend" only to get sick :c trying to make the most of the days though (within reason). love y'all and hope you enjoy this!

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The holiday season sucks.

That’s about all you’re confident in as you twirl the piping bag in your hand for what feels like the thousandth time that morning. There’s an entire rack of pies beside you, tray after tray that needs to be garnished with cremieux and a little chocolate coin that has the first letter of your bakery branded on it in gold. Behind it are three more of the same pie. Behind that are four more of apple.

Apple and pumpkin. The only flavors you offered for the season. One hundred each, plenty enough to keep you afloat for the next month or so if you sell out. Especially if you sell out the display case as well.

Your bakery is small, just you and your friend Colbie. Something to be passed in the blink of an eye on the busy downtown street. But it was born of passion and creativity, a space you carved out in the big scary world all for yourself. You’re none the wiser of how your day will turn out as you continue to pipe the faintly black spotted vanilla over the remaining pies, moving onto fetching things out of the oven as timers begin to go off and garnish the ones already chilled from an earlier bake.

Just down the street, Joel and Sarah are strolling down the sidewalk from where they parked the car at the end of the block.

“Don’t see why the crew needs more food, baby girl.”

“Because we need to show our appreciation for them, dad. They’re working the morning of thanksgiving, for crying out loud.”

“This isn’t exactly a tax write off…”

“Dad!” The exasperated teenager nudges at his side with her shoulder, catching his ribs lightly. But he doesn’t stumble nor do his steps falter, he lets her win a lot of the time but this? He still loves how she tries to roughhouse with him only to realize that he’s always gonna have the upper hand unless he gives into her. Her pout and huff draws a laugh from deep in his chest.

“It’s true! I gotta pay for it all outta my account, not the business. We already picked up breakfast for everyone and half the men are gonna store it in their coolers for a later time.” He pivots her toward the doorway just past a large window display, squares of glass allowing for a glimpse inside a local bakery.

“Don’t you put the catering on the business card?”

“Well yeah, but their overtime for today is coming out of it too.”

“Maybe if we ask the owner, they can discount us or something?” Sarah is suddenly stopping just inside the threshold, watching with wide eyes as her father walks in behind her. The scent of fresh baked bread and flaky pastries welcomes them despite the empty lobby. “Is there a reason you’re so hesitant to use the company card? I thought the business was doing good?”

Joel heaves a heavy sigh, placing both his hands gently on her shoulders to hold her attention and give her all of his.

“Everything is fine, Sarah.” His brown eyes take in the way her own multifaceted ones gleam in the bright sunlight shining in the muted green space the lobby has been painted. Plants alive and well, live wood bar top against the window for people to sit at. “Money is my worry, but there ain’t nothing to worry about okay?”

“We can still ask after a discount, it doesn’t hurt, right?” Suddenly shy, her eyes break contact with his and turn down to her scuffed shoes. “I know that it’s new, but the therapy sessions aren’t exactly cheap or covered by the insurance.”

“Hey now, don’t go worrying about all that either.” Joel’s voice is so soft, floating through the air and sneaking into the kitchen through the siding of the swinging door. You pause in the rosette you were piping atop a cake, just little personal ones with autumnal flowers for the season. “I’m the dad, and that’s a dad thing, okay? You want to keep goin’ and that’s all that matters. Just want you to be okay, that’s all I ever want ‘cause I love you so damn much, okay?”

She nods once, still not bringing her eyes back up but she huffs out a giggle when he leans down and kisses her cheek, deliberately nuzzling the scruff on his cheek against her own.

“Besides, I don’t wanna bother them, baby girl, it’s such a small place.” With that settled they both turn back to the display cause and counter, just in time to see you approach through the window in the door.

“Joel?” There’s no hiding the smile that breaks out across your face as you push through the swinging door that leads separates the kitchen and public area. Even despite the inner turmoil you had endured after first meeting him. The will he won’t he of leaving your number for him…

“Camp lady! Dad, look, it’s her!” The excited teenager hops up and down on her long legs, arms hanging onto one of Joel’s and she jostles him. The slight melancholy of her previous words and worries forgotten with the aid of Joel’s soothing ones and your appearance. “You work here? That’s so cool!”

“Yes, Sarah, honey, I see her.” He rolls his eyes for you to see as she skips forward up to the counter. He looks good, if a little tired. His scruff is longer, body a little leaner than when you had seen him last…two months ago now. You had been so sure he would call or text, reach out in whatever way was easiest for him. And when he hadn’t…you had thrown yourself into work and prep for the holiday season. Reveling in the night you shared and taking it for what it was, not letting the lack of communication taint what had been an electric connection. His eyes are glued to you, ignoring the twirling and excitement of his daughter as she flits in front of the display case.

As you round the corner of the counter and display case, it’s obvious how busy you’ve been in the morning hours as stains darken the fabric. Reaching with a flour dusted hand, you go to shake the man’s hand but he surprises you and pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of his spicy cologne and wood shavings spurs butterflies to life in your belly and heat rise to your cheeks.

“It’s good to see ya, darlin’.” He whispers in your ear, voice all baritone gravel. He releases you just as Colbie enters back in through the front door. You see the way her eyes widen at the show of affection, she knows you better than anyone and casual touch is not something you’re a fan of. But you can tell that she immediately knows who Joel and his daughter are if the sparkle in her eye and the smirk she flashes at you says anything.

“I’m so sorry, I thought I locked the door behind me. Want me to keep it unlocked, we’ve got about fifteen minutes until we’re open.”

“Leaving it open will be fine, do you mind-“ The timer pinned to your apron tie goes off and a second later the one for the oven blares from the kitchen.

“Got it!” And she’s rushing behind the counter to slip back through the sliding door.

Joel looks like he’s about to apologize for barging in, Sarah leading him in the early hour. Coffee thermos left on the counter in the rush and his brain is working overtime without it. The pickup order she had placed with a breakfast place too busy for him to grab something there. You wave him off with a soft smile, not minding the intrusion one bit.

“My dad would not shut up about you on the way home, especially since we still have that air mattress you leant us! Thank you again so much for that, I didn’t want my dad to have to sleep on the ground with his bad back.”

“Hey now, you’re a little too forward with the embarrassing details.” Joel’s bashful words are bathed in an even tone, trying to parent his daughter but still treat her like the independent person that she is.

“So what can I do for you?” You try to fight the slight awkwardness of randomly happening across them as customers in your shop and you swear you see Joel duck his head as he roughs a hand across the back of his neck. Your causal tone and polite smile dousing the hope that had flared in his own chest when you walked out from the kitchen. “I’ve got plenty of pastries, the pies aren’t quite done yet but if you need one or two, I can add the finishing touches real quick?”

“Dad, we should get them pie! Like one each, you think? There’s five on the crew and then the secretaries too, they should get one since they’ll be waiting for us in the office. We can put the bonus checks on top with some pretty stickers! Oooh, dad we gotta stop at the art store now!”

“Sarah, honey, take a breath.” Joel claps hand over her shoulder and she beams up at him. “We only got half an hour to get to the office.”

“Oh, that’s okay! We can still do the pie each thing, right?”

“Whatever you wanna do,” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, her kinky curls flattening as he does so and earns him a grumbled ‘spent so much time on it this morning, old man’.

“So that was seven pies then?” You ask, trying to keep up with the both of them, they’ve got such an easy-going way that they communicate. Their bond obvious and their love pure as you had witnessed back at that campsite, he wants for her to have everything he can give her. It’s admirable, a good man, a good parent.

“Uh, make it ten, please.” Joel steps up to the counter, taking out his wallet from a back pocket. “Half pumpkin, half apple. So folks can pick whichever one they want.”

“Ten, got it. It’s gonna take me a few minutes to finish up, do you want a coffee while you wait?” And you swear his gaze hardens as he looks up to see the price displayed on the screen, card ready to press against the pad after you finished punching in his order on your own side of the register. The same way they had just before he had kissed you, angled toward you in front of that fire, the determination set his face in such an endearing way.

“Would be wonderful, darlin’. Just a black drip, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Hey, just so you know, ‘m sorry I didn’t call.” Joel shuffles on his feet, watching as Sarah starts up the truck and begins to dance to the loud beats he can make out through the cracked window. You had walked out with the pair to help load the bags into the extended cab of the gleaming gray truck. “I wanted to, but-“

“Life is hectic sometimes, it’s okay. I’m not gonna say I wasn’t disappointed, but I do understand.” You know he’s got a lot more going on in his life, with a child he’s raising on his own. The bakery keeps you busy, hours not quite the same as everyone. You never want to feel like you’re holding expectations for a life that just doesn’t fit into your schedule sometimes. And that included Joel, his own busy schedule not allowing for personal indulgences either. It’s hard not to feel like it’s a cruel twist of fate, that you two met only to realize the puzzle pieces of your life don’t quite match up.

“The paper, I had it. Put it in my pocket but my brother snatched the flannel instead of his own at the work site and washed the damn thing.”

“Little brother?” You tilt your head to the side, all too familiar with the chaos of sheer unpredictability one could bring.

“Yep, meddling, clueless little brother.” He’s fascinating, every little detail you learn about him draws you in closer, a pull toward the man you’ve only gotten glimpses of as of yet.

“Mine is pretty clueless too, god love him.”

“But- uh…oddly enough,” A large hand rubs at the back of his neck, the muscles of his arm straining against his flannel sleeve and catching your eye. “Mine is having a small dinner tonight, just us two, Sarah and his wife. Their twins. I know you got work today and don’t really know me at all, but I was wondering if-“

“Apple or pumpkin?” Lips pulling into a wide smile, you swear your heart is about to beat out of your chest, thudding wildly the second you realized where he was going with his explanation of his own holiday plans.

“Huh?”

“Do you want me to bring an apple or pumpkin pie?” You look up at him through your lashes, heat blooming in your chest at the insinuation he wanted you there, at the invitation you hadn’t been extended in years. Everyone always wanted the good you baked, the bread, the skills you had for the kitchen. But they never particularly wanted you around for the holidays. The family disappointment, for not being married, for not having kids, for not finishing school, for being too different.

“Darlin’ you don’t have to bring anything, just want you to come and be my date.”

And he couldn’t have said anything more perfect as you feel your throat constrict and tears well up in your eyes.

“Hey now, I mean it.” He’s shifting, hands reaching for you and you feel a little sorry for the ‘oof’ he lets out when you crash into his open arms. “Wanna get to know you, but only if you want that too. If we can carve out some time for each other.”

“Of course, Joel. That would…that would make me happy.”

“’m droppin’ Sarah off now, gotta head to the site for a few hours but I can pick you up here once I’m done. That sound okay to you?” He looks so hopefully, so happy that he can ask you in person, can ask to see you again now that he’s found you and it melts your heart. You’re sure the smile you give him is just as dopey at the one he’s beaming down at you.

“Yes, that sounds perfect. Here.” You pull away from him just enough to reach into your back pocket and brandish a business card at him. The thick cardstock is embossed in gold lettering, your name and number displayed on it proudly. “This is a little more permanent than a flimsy piece of paper.”

He pulls one of his own business cards out from his wallet as he securely puts yours away.

You continue to feel the warmth of his fingers passing it to you even hours later as you hold piping bags filled with cooled frosting, as you add frills and garnishes to pastries set in the cooler after leaving the oven a nice golden brown. And even as you feel your face heat up at the confrontation Colbie sneaks in throughout the day about your ‘gentleman caller’.

Around noon, Joel’s truck parks out front of the bakery. He’s showered, it looks like it as you see the shine to dark curls. He’s taken a shaver to his scruff as well, it’s not as long as it had been this morning.

“Please tell me you’re closed tomorrow.” Joel taps the hours displayed on the door as he steps through it, the gold lettering telling him that you were in fact not. But open at seven am sharp. Looking up from where you’re closing down the register, you hold up one finger up to indicate you need a moment.

As you continue, you can sense his gaze as it takes in the space you poured your blood, sweat and tears into. Devoted hours to manifesting and making it a reality. The case is completely empty, parchment paper adorned with errant crumbs all that he sees inside through the shiny glass.

When you step out from behind the counter, bag and keys in hand, you clock the second Joel realizes you’ve taken a moment to change as well. No longer in your dirty apron or black athleisure, but in a skirt that flows to about midthigh, tights underneath and a thin sweater. Your hair is down too, now, no longer pulled back into low pigtails and covered with a beanie for safety reasons around the kitchen.

“Darlin’, you look-“ He swallows, tongue watering as he takes in the sight of you all dolled up for him, for a date with him. “You look amazin’.”

“Just some spare clothes I had in my office. Didn’t wanna roll up to your brother’s house covered in flour and chocolate.” He’s shushing you as he ambles up, pressing his lips to your forehead as he cradles your face.

“He wouldn’t have cared and neither would I. Today is about family, no matter their shape or mess, got it? Miller households are safe places, you hear me?”

The drive over to his brother’s is short, the two of them in the same neighborhood but different blocks something that tickles you to know end. Watchful big brother, independent little brother who didn’t want to stray too far. It’s endearing, so different from you own family. Parents live upstate, brother is still in university, opting to live in the dorms instead of with you. Younger sister god knows where now, she pops up every year with a crazy tale of where she ended up for most of the time she had disappeared.

His brother doesn’t seem surprised in the least when Joel shows up on his doorstep with you at his side, his greeting a wide smile and bright eyes. His wife, Maria is just as easy going, just as welcoming. Praising you for bringing dessert and that she had totally blanked on it for after the meal in the hectic planning of the day.

The atmosphere is cozy, holiday cheer abundant despite the temperate Texas weather that plagues the state year round. Sarah is particularly excited to be helping out this year, the first she’s old enough to. A set of twins half her age run around with shrieking laughter as Joel and Tommy chase them around and keep them busy while you help out in the kitchen as well, not wanting to just show up and sit around waiting for everything to be done.

It's so different from your usual meal alone, normally just leftovers from the day before on a tray as you settle in bed and binge watch something once the bakery closes up.

It warms your heart and makes you feel full in a way that being with your family never has. From the easy going conversation with Maria, the light teasing and focus of following instructions from Sarah, stolen glances with Joel, the wide brimming smile of his brother as he realizes that the scene is a little more complete with you there now.

“Tell me I can kiss you, please.” Joe’s lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver at the vibrations that caress the sensitive skin. He’s been angling closer all afternoon, the couch cushions flattening and sloping. Pooling you closer to where his thick thighs rest, to the intoxicating warmth of his body and the heady smell of his spiced cologne. The movie credits are playing softly on the screen, everyone well fed and just now recovering to tend to things such as packing up leftovers and beginning to organize what was left.

The second you two were alone, Joel had used the arm he had slung up on the back of the couch around your shoulders to tug you in close. Tucking you into him, he used his other hand to pivot your legs into his lap. He’s kneading the skin there, over your tights. Thick fingers daring to trace higher and higher as he pulls back to look into your eyes.

“You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, can’t believe my streak of bad luck.” And at the flash of guilt in the depths of warm brown eyes, you surge forward and kiss him with a ferocity that startles him. The small ‘humph!’ and the tightening of his hand around your thigh curls desire low in your middle as his tongue eagerly meets yours as you part your lips.

“Bad luck, good luck. Doesn’t matter.” You manage between deep kisses, hands threading through the thick locks of chocolate curls atop his head. “We’re here now, I’m here with you.”

“Good.” He’s swallowing the moan that bubbles up from how he presses into you, how he pulls you flush with him.

“Joel! We got a house full of impressionable kids and you’re just makin’ out on the couch with the baker?”

The deep rumble of his chuckle does nothing but make your stomach jolt as heat lances through your core. The sound hitting deep and making you bury your face in the man’s neck as he parts only his lips from yours.

“Gotta embarrass me always, huh?” He’s holding you tight still, hands gripping and knuckles straining with the effort it’s taking to stop his ministrations.

“Just keep it in your pants, we’ve got everything packed up for y’all to take home. Sarah’s tucked into the spare room, helping out this year really took it outta her.”

“That where she snuck off to?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. We can watch her for the night. She don’t go back to school until next week right? Just come get ‘er tomorrow. And you,” Tommy aims twin finger guns at you. “Are welcome back anytime, Maria really appreciated the help in the kitchen but mostly I think she just loved having another woman around to chat with. Seriously, she’s gonna offer to come by the bakery and grab lunch one day soon.”

With that, Tommy saunters back into the kitchen with a snicker of his own and some words you can’t quite make out to the woman in question.

“Well, what do ya think?” Joel moves to whisper in your ear again. “Wanna come back to mine? Or I could take you home? Whichever you want, sweetheart.”

The sudden image of you and Joel tangled up on top of your bed has you kissing him full on the mouth one last time.

“Take me home and then take me to bed.”

Giddy anticipation fills the cab of his truck, the engine ticking as he shuts it off and just sits back for a moment. His eyes find yours and you can’t help the giggle that bursts from your chest, hands tangled and fingers twisting around each other in your lap. His hand reaches and takes one of your own, engulfing it with the sheer size difference. His beautiful hands that craft houses and woodwork, his beautiful hands that raised his amazing, rambunctious but sweet daughter, his beautiful hands that held his young nephew and niece with such care. His beautiful hands that you’ve felt explore your body twice now, the urge for him to do so again so strong it makes you feel dizzy.

“I can leave if you’re nervous, darlin’. No pressure, no hard feelings.” Joel Miller, the man that he is, knew just what to say to ease your worries.

“No, no. I just…”

“Thank you, for today.” You whisper, emotions getting the better of you. “I really thought that…this year I’d be alone again. My family only ever asks after desserts, always schedules the meal late and too far away for me to make the drive. I…I really liked spending time with you and your family today, they made me feel so welcome and included. It- it was really nice, Joel.”

The trembling of your lower lip is embarrassing but you can’t fight it off as you bare your heart to the man beside you.

“Hey now, it’s okay. I got ya,” He’s shuffling closer, the console pushed up to allow him to slide across the bench seat. “They loved you, ‘m sure they wouldn’t mind seein’ you more.”

And it’s easy, the way he soothes the turmoil in your mind, begins to help heal the trauma that bubbles up this time of year.

It’s easy how he kisses you and makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

It’s easy how he let’s you guide him into your home with clasped hands and a shy smile.

It’s easy the next morning when you wake up beside him, his naked body like a furnace under the sheets as it wraps around your own. The hours posted on your bakery door correct except for the day that follows any holiday. His breath little puffs against the back of your neck as you both share a pillow, while your exhalation becomes needy as you feel an ache between your legs. Little whimpers thrown into the air with no regard to how desperate they sound.

Heat sparks through you as you recall the desire in his hooded eyes the night before as you straddled him, taking your time with lowering yourself onto his hard cock, already dribbling when he had shucked his pants off for you to see all of him for the first time. The sight of him sprawled across your bed, head thrown on the pillows and bronze skin gleaming in the low lights strung up over your bed had all but turned you possessive. The memories were too much, kindling desire and pleasure in you in such a way that should be a warning in itself that you were fucked.

You were gone on him and you could only hope he felt the same way.

Soon enough, the shifting of your thighs to relieve pleasure that tingles there rouses him.

“Woke up needy, huh darlin’?” His voice is deep velvet, the early morning blessing him with such a soothing baritone that it almost has you rolling your eyes at it caresses over your skin much like his exploring fingers.

“Mhm, can still feel you. Right here-“ And his hand flattens against the soft give of your stomach where you guided it, just below your belly button.

“Fuck, that’s so hot, you have no idea.” He’s crowding you, body shifting to press your chest to the bed, his legs tangling with yours as he kneels behind you. He hinges your hips, bringing them up to rub the length of his cock between your glistening folds. “So full a me still, holding it like such a good girl for me.”

The whine of his name from your lips has him pushing in, slowly and carefully until his hips meet the back of your thighs. Turning it into a low moan that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. Your panting is all he can hear, the clench of your walls all he can feel as your back arches and you press back into him.

“Right here, huh?” His hand is still on your belly, and it presses now, pulling a yelp from you as the pressure in your core intensifies. Your cunt gushes around him, earning you a hiss as he grinds himself against you to make a squelching sound.

“Please please please tell me we’re going to do this again.” You move on him, pulling forward a bit, knees spreading and hands gripping tight to the sheets underneath you. Joel’s answering groan is more than enough but his voice delivers your fate in such an easy way.

“Oh darlin’, we’re gonna be doin’ this every day for the rest of our lives.” And with that he moves to grip your hips so tight you’re sure there will be reddened imprints of his fingers, pulling out in a slow drag before he slams back in and sets a brutal pace.

And maybe the holidays aren’t so bad, after all.

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[scatpornenjoyer]

the lefts blindness has never failed to profoundly shock me - no wait, i expected it ...

ok first of all,

hillary clinton. DID NOT EVEN WIN THE DNC LEGITIMATLY. most of the democrats wanted bernie, and so as you'd expect, when bernie lost, a lot of the democratic base didn't want to vote democrat, BECAUSE IT WAS FUCKING RIGGGGEDD....??? also... let's not forget the email scandal guys... are we serious... she didn't lose because she was a female, she lost because she was a fucking idiot... you're really gonna sit here and say she lost because she was a woman and not because she set up a private email server in her home? not to mention... hillary clinton supporting the invasion of iraq... and how her opinion changed on basically everything. (gay marriage, etc.) cough cough... 2012 Benghazi

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- what about kamala? "Not a thing comes to mind."

she had the easiest win, in the grasps of her finger, after getting the chance to be the next president, with the biggest most unfathomable wave of support. do you know what she did with it? she fumbled it.

she was trying so hard to not cast 'shadow' and 'doubt' on Biden, that she literally never proposed anything that she would change. the entirety of kamalas campaign was based on identity, and abortion. (abortion laws which she cannot even change since she can't overturn the supreme court) she lost the vote when she started exclusively attacking trump. why? everyone already knew alllll about trump. they wanted to know how kamala harris was. do you know why they couldn't? because she refused to give any interviews. they wanted to know what was going to happen under her administration.

her campaign highlighted trump more than it highlighted her, they never shared any of harris's ideas.

maybe this is a good opportunity for democrats to realize most voters don't care about racial disputes and lgbtq.

also like you said, people voted harris because she's a woman and because they didn't want trump, not because they wanted harris.

not to mention, how they isolated all the young male voters.

hey but if u arent convinced look at this ad by their campaign LOL

if I had a nickel for every time I voted for the potential first female president over trump and trump won I’d had two nickels and it’s really fucking fucked up that it happened twice

[mr2swap]

Swap syndrome 2: armpit addiction.

-damn heat… -

The time on my cell phone showed 2:05, the idiot Travis had made me wait but in a way that made me happy I would have to charge him $50 more for being late.

Today was a very fucking day at the gym, it was so hot that I had to change my shirt, but still the rancid aroma of sweat coming from my hairy armpits filled the interior with my car, I was in the same parking lot of the gym where it is only A couple of minutes had left a huge sweat stain on the floor.

But despite everything I loved my new life, after the great shift and finding myself in this boy's hot and muscular body, from the beginning I knew this was a good thing, when I woke up in Travis's bedroom and looked down to see two juicy pecs, a sculpted six-pack and long, hairy legs, the first thing I did was take out my huge cock that was hidden among a leafy bush of hair and give myself the best handjob of my entire life.

It had been a little over a year since that moment, I quickly got used to Travis' life, kept his muscles big and strong and all thanks to his tiny YouTube channel where he showed all his exercise routines, but that was all wasted talent for Travis' glorious, beautiful body.

I no longer had my college degree or anyone to turn to, yet I was able to easily make money from all these fags, who wanted to sleep with me and this body.

Still not in the same city where I used to live, I watched the news and learned everything that had been happening in the world and that the real Travis was out there in my tired, flabby 40-year-old office worker body.

A tapping on my car window brought me out of my thoughts, it was the real Travis I grimaced in disgust as I looked at my old face once more in front of me, I looked at the time on my phone once more, and now it was 2:07 that now meant $70.

The door of my car and Travis jumped inside it, his first action was to completely inhale the disgusting smell inside the car, after that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, After that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, but in one movement I moved his old, ugly face away from me.

-You know the rules Travis, first I want the bills-

He extended one of my hands while he took out his wallet and extended a small wad of cash. In one quick movement, I snatched the bills from him and began to count them one by one while a nervous expression formed on the real Travis's face.

-Are you fucking with me? Only $500? -

There was nothing left of the old confident Travis, the confident, outgoing boy had disappeared, in his place there was only a perverted faggot who paid me for a few minutes of my attention due to swap syndrome. When we swapped our bodies, I thought I would get rid of him to always, but this pathetic middle-aged man was clinging to me like a leech trying to get close to me with his twisted homosexual intentions. I didn't really care what he did with my old body, but I thought I could make some money a month by squeezing every penny of this situation.

-Please! Just, just 5 minutes! I had to pay this month's rent and my landlord told me that if I was late another month he would throw me out on the street.-

I rolled my eyes as Travis the bitch kept giving me stupid excuses about how hard it was to find a good job now that he was a middle-aged man and he was tired all the time from working so much.

-Okay, just shut your fucking mouth.-

I put my hand on his head and pushed him into one of my hairy pits and choked his nose with the sour sweat that was collecting in my armpits. The initial struggle quickly turned into pleasure, I could feel Tyler's breathing slow. He shook until he filled his lungs, his mouth savored the curly hairs of my armpit and sucked up the small drops of sweat with his dirty tongue as if he had crossed a desert.

Tyler's small hands slid to his crotch and he began to frantically massage his cock over his pants, occasionally Tyler would move away from my armpit to get some air and lick my muscular arms with his disgusting sticky tongue, I watched as they passed minutes on my cell phone and before 5 minutes had passed, Tyler's small wrinkled cock soiled his pants with semen.

I pushed Tyler away and a satisfied smile formed on Tyler's face, his chest rising and falling as he tried to recover from the addictive experience he had just experienced, a few hairs from my armpit had stuck to his face and a stain of sweat had formed on the collar of his shirt.

I didn't have time for this, this experience had made me horny, I wanted to unload the enormous amount of cum that wanted to escape from my huge hairy balls, but the disgusting man next to me was not worthy of this...nor did I have another $500

I extended one of my long, muscular arms and opened the door of my luxurious sports car.

-Now get out bitch, see you next week-

As soon as I clean every trace of Tyler from my car, I'll call some of my girls, so I can fill their pussies with my beautiful, hot seed.

This is a second installment of the swap syndrome story, but the only thing they share in common is the same syndrome that is spreading among those affected by the great shift, you can see more by visiting my Ko-fi page:

Hello, if you liked this story, and you want more, you can take a look at my new Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

[teamdarkdaily]

DAILIES FOR PALESTINE (12/2 - 12/8)

With December comes this blogs LAST fundraiser week, so help me make it a special one! All funds raised will be going towards Gaza Soup Kitchen to help multiple families in need. If you aren't able to donate, please share this post to garner more attention towards the fund.

The starting price for these is $5 but anything more is forever appreciated. All images seen above were drawn for donations from this event! I will take all funds raised at the end of the week and donate it to the fundraiser.

Order through my kofi listing here and read the information below!

My rules and general information for this:

Requests can ONLY be of Shadow, Rouge, Omega, Matilda, or Shadow's chao (Cherry). If you request a character I didn't list, I will just choose a Team Dark member at random and still put your donation in the fund.

I will not be drawing any ships between the Team Dark members or them with anyone outside of Team Dark (see rule 1)

Absolutely no NSFW, no hate messages or bigotry, none of that

The quality of the dailies range on this blog depending on how I'm feeling/how much time I have in a day. This will most likely be the same for these requests. However, if you donate an amount much larger than the base $5 I'll do my best to give it the quality it deserves as thanks.

I will be posting a screenshot of the amount I make from these requests at the end of the week along with the receipt of me submitting to the gofundme so everyone can be assured that their money is going to help these causes. Any names/info in these screenshots will be fully blocked out with only the money amount showing for safety reasons

There will be 7 slots available each week and the slots will be open until the last day of the week (Sunday).

I'll include a link to the fundraiser we're raising for in each post that's a request. If you aren't able to get a slot or can't afford to donate, sharing the posts also helps so much for visibility of the fundraiser to others who might be able to donate.

[hannahhook7744]

The Princes' Bodyguard;

Summary: Arthur Pendragon, tired and stressed by the surprising amount of danger two of his and Gwen’s eleven children manage to get into, hires a bodyguard. When the number of assassins that threaten his sons skyrocket after he does, the king thinks that his money has been well spent and so does his wife and the rest of their family. The princes in question, Llacheu and Loholt, however, know the truth.  Not all of those assassins were after their lives, they were after their bodyguard’s!  And now the young princes are determined to find out why, and get to the bottom of who exactly Morgar (or Morgie, as he prefers) is.  Trigger Warnings: swearing, child endangerment (via children themselves), arguing, mention of assassin attempts, etc.

------------------------------------------------------------

No one had been down the overgrown path for years, yet…

“No.” 

“But—”

“Absolutely not–”

“Loholt, just listen—”

“No!” Prince Loholt Tom Pendragon of Camelot snapped, cutting his twin brother off as he lost the last of the patience he had for him that day. “No! You listen to me, Llacheu. We are not going down the spooky, abandoned, most definitely cursed path that no one has tended to in years just to satisfy your curiosity!” 

Prince Llacheu Ewan Pendragon of Camelot (totally did not) pout and crossed his arms. “Why nooooooooot ?”

“1. Because it will give our poor mother a heart attack. 2. Because we are the oldest and supposed to set an example for our siblings. And 3. Dad will flip his lid if he finds out, because he will find out when Uncle Merlin no doubt has to come and save our dumb asses because we went down the stupid path, you dollop head!”

Llacheu snorted. “Come on, we’re eighteen and will become knights soon. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Loholt, always the more sensible of the two, gave him their Uncle Merlin’s famous ‘are you kidding me right now’ and ‘did you really just ask that’ look. “I don’t know….We could DIE maybe? Is that ‘worst’ enough for you?”

“That isn’t grammatically correct—guess all that time in the library is failing you, brother.”

“It is not—”

“Is too—”

“Is not—”

RROOOOoooOOOOARAAAAARRRRRR!

“AAAARRRRAHHHHAHHHHHHHH!”

The twin princes halted their argument immediately—staring at each other in silence momentarily before one of them finally caught up with the situation. “What was that?!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?!”

“This is all your fault!”

“How is it my fault?!”

“YOU KNOW HOW!”

------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood behind his desk, resisting the urge to pace as the sunlight poured in through the opening windows of his room. In front of him, his two eighteen year old sons—his oldest children who were born only a few months after the Battle of Camlann (which the king of Camelot didn’t like to think too much about for obvious reasons, less the bitter ‘what-ifs’ and  ‘could have beens’ of Morgana, Mordred, and other lost friends and innocents consume him)—sat sheepishly. Not meeting his eyes.

Arthur didn’t blame them. 

Quite honestly he was beyond furious with both of them—because in all of his forty six years, he had never ever, ever had this bad of a near heart attack. Not during any of times he had nearly died because of an attempt on his life, not with any of the times any of his friends had nearly died, or any of the times Gwen had nearly died—not during any of the battles he’d rode into, not sure he and his friends would even make it out alive. Absolutely none of it compared to the grey  hairs and heart palpitations his oldests had just given him. 

“A banshee, bandits, and a griffin?!”

The universe hated him. 

It was official. 

Because honestly, there was absolutely no other way to explain how that had happened in this day and age when most of the people who had tried to kill him were dead or no longer foe. Not since he’d legalized magic, anyway. Yet his children all still managed to get into trouble somehow. 

Even his toddlers got in trouble!

“Well, you see—” Loholt, who dressed in mainly shades of green and black, was the first to start  stammering as he shot a glare at his brother.

“We were, uh, well there was this path—”Llacheu, who dressed in orange, wasn’t far behind as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Refusing to meet his brother’s eye. He was no doubt the reason why they were on that path in the first place.

When Arthur was calmer, he’d talk to him about that. But for now…

“Yes. A path. The path of no return which both your mother and I, along with your aunts and uncles, have told you and your siblings and cousins all explicitly to stay far away from to avoid situations exactly like these from happening.” The blonde took a deep breath, pinching his nose a bit harder to bat away the stress induced headache that was starting to develop before breathing out. “Right. Your mother and I are hiring you two a bodyguard.” 

One that Arthur was going to have Merlin, George, the knights, Giaus, Freya, and the Steward help him and Gwen vet very thoroughly before they even stepped foot in the castle or anywhere near his children for that matter. Call him paranoid but he wasn’t taking any risks or cutting any corners where his children’s safety was involved. 

“What?!”

“But dad—”

“No buts. You two will not live to be knights at the rate you are going. Need I remind you of the sledding incident of last week? Or the River incident the week before that? Or any of you two’s other exploits recently and not so recently?” Being harsh was the last thing Arthur wanted to be but this was not a matter he nor Gwen were willing to compromise on—not when their boys were far more danger prone than Arthur, Gwen, Morgana, Merlin, and the round table combined had ever been.

Gods above, they had gotten in far more trouble than Arthur ever had in his forty six years and a good ten of those years he’d spent dodging nonstop assassination attempts. Well-earned or not. 

They were definitely getting a bodyguard. No ands, ifs, or buts about it. One that they would be stuck with until they learned to be more mindful of their surroundings and to just think for a few seconds at the very least. Arthur would very much like both him and Guinevere to live long enough to see their grandchildren, thank you very much—which currently was not in the cards with all the stress their children and their friends, on top of the kingdom, were infecting them with. 

“No sir.” Both boys sighed in sync, shooting glares at one another once they realized it. 

“That’s what I thought.”

Thank the gods for the little mercies. 

------------------------------------------------------------

“Daddy real mad at you.” 

Loholt bit his lip to stop himself from making a snide remark, knowing that snapping at his youngest brother just because he was mad at his twin brother for getting them into this mess wasn’t going to do him any favors. “I know, Artie.”

Artie—or Arthur the Less as some very foolish people had called him before their parents swiftly put an end to that nonsense after adopting the three year old—looked at him with big blue wide eyes, sucking his thumb. “He thoughts you were hurted.”

And wasn’t that a slap to the face? 

Loholt took a deep breath, silently cursing his twin’s thoughtlessness. It was his fault they were near the path in the first place and now they were going to be stuck with a bodyguard—a glorified chaperone—all because Llacheu had wanted to impress a girl. He had made their parents worry to impress a girl—it was infuriating. Especially since he didn’t even seem to realize how badly he had messed up when a three year old that had been living with their family for less than two months could see it. 

“I know, Art. I know. I’ll try not to scare him and mom like that anymore.”

The blonde flashed him a big toothy smile. “Pwomise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” 

“Don’t say da D word!”

The older boy couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s just an expression buddy. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Artie didn’t look like be believed him. 

Which was far, he supposed. It wasn’t like he and Llacheu had the best track record after all (which, admittedly, was partially his fault).

------------------------------------------------------------

“That sounds stupid.” Kay the Tricky, one of Llacheu’s best friends, said scrunching up his nose at his friend’s plight. “How are you supposed to become a knight if you have a bodyguard watching your every move?”

 Llacheu threw his hands up. “That’s what I’m wonderin’! This is going to be so embarrassing! ”

Cai the fair, Loholt and Llacheu’s other best friend, on the other hand had no sympathy for his friend. “And it serves you right. What were you thinking—going near the Path of No Return? That’s not going to impress Lady Florie of Kanadic! She’s going to flip her lid when she finds out about this, you nitwit!” 

“Hey, who’s side are you on?!”  

The blonde gave him an unimpressed look. “Your parents and Loholt’s side. That was a bad idea and you know it.”

The prince did know it, though he wasn’t going to wound his pride by admitting it; not when he was going to need said pride when the new bodyguard came and killed his most gracious social life—which he didn’t doubt for a second was going to die because no one his age wanted a babysitter, let alone deal with someone else’s  babysitter. So yeah, his social life was definitely going to be dead. 

And all for a plan that didn’t even work, because surprise, Cai the Fair was right about Florie not being impressed that Llacheu had chosen to foolishly endanger himself and his brother to get her attention instead of just asking to court her, like a more mature person would have—and now she wasn’t talking to him (or Loholt, when he was present) until he ‘saw the errors of his ways’. Great. 

Just great.

------------------------------------------------------------

Two months. 

It took their parents and their parents’ friends, as well as the castle staff, two—not one—TWO MONTHS to find the pair of princes a bodyguard that met ‘their requirements to a satisfactory extent’, as George put it when he fetched them that morning in place of their manservants (his sons) Brahms and Wendell. 

Apparently the bodyguard had been vetted personally by almost every adult they knew. 

Something the two princes agreed (for once) was humiliating. Honestly, their family was far too paranoid and protective at times for their liking—which of course was why Morgar was even here to  begin with. 

Morgar, that was the name of their bodyguard. 

Their bodyguard who had beat out everyone else and met every expectation their family threw his way, answering all their questions the way they wanted him to or close enough that it didn’t even matter that it wasn’t what they fully wanted. 

Somehow.

Even Loholt was in complete disbelief regarding those little facts that George had let slip after meeting the man in question. Because Morgar? He was nothing at all like they expected. 

He wasn’t prim, proper, all work, and no play like George or bossy and annoying like the Steward and their childhood nanny who would sometimes watch them when their family was away for long periods of time were. He wasn’t overly protective like Uncles Elyan and Merlin, or constantly exasperated like Leon was. 

No, he… was different. 

------------------------------------------------------------

Morgar was a strange fellow with dark brown hair—swept off his forehead—and sharp hazel eyes that were ever seeing, who stood at just an inch or two shorter than the twins themselves. He had a snake tattoo on his right arm that seemed to switch positions every time they saw him and some kind of rune tattoos on his left arm that seemed to disappear under his clothing. 

He wore long and tight looking black trousers with a matching scarf, faded brown boots that looked too small, a tan undershirt, a green tunic with medium length sleeves, and a dark green armored vest with a lighter green, almost yellowish, rose pattern on it that was like nothing the younger boys had ever seen before. 

Morgar insisted that they call him ‘Morgie’ (what an odd nickname) and was rather laid back for someone who was being paid to defend the lives of the king’s children. 

He was also snarky—always having something to say, oftentimes something wicked that would send both Llacheu and Loholt into fits of laughter that they tried and failed to suppress. Knowing that it wasn’t something their parents would approve of them finding funny. 

He was goofy and made exaggerated faces and movements that would have annoyed the boys if they weren’t sure that it was just how Morgie was, and not him treating them like children. 

Morgie was a few years older than the two of them—twenty, he said once when they asked—and he didn’t kill the social life of the princes by meddling, like they had feared he would. In fact, he was far less involved in their goings on than Loholt suspected their parents knew. Almost always out of sight of them when they went to hang out with their friends or to train, and rarely ever getting involved in their shenanigans until danger was posed and not before. 

It was odd and not at all like the ever looming, never straying, boundary stomping bodyguards the two brothers had seen accompany other royal children before. 

Morgie actually seemed to care about them and their privacy, more than he did his job, even. 

It wasn’t anything like he was expecting.

------------------------------------------------------------

The assassination attempts didn’t start until a few weeks after Morgie had started working for The Pendragons. 

Most would assume it was a coincidence or would say that their father’s paranoia had finally paid off with him having been well-prepared in advance for this type of thing (something their own father’s father hadn’t been nearly as prepared for), but that didn’t feel quite right. At least not in Llacheu’s mind—something he pointed out to his brother and their friends once Florie started talking to him (and the others while he was there) again.

“The assassination attempts on your dad’s life didn’t pick up until he was nearly twenty.” Florie pointed out, always the rational one of the group—never one to jump to conclusions—resting her chin on her fist out of boredom, readjusting her lavender dress. “Maybe the assassins just didn’t feel comfortable killing you before you had facial hair?”

Kay snorted at that, almost stabbing himself when he failed to catch the dagger he’s been tossing up and down for fun. Like their Uncle Gwaine did with his apples usually before he ate them—a habit his little son, Everard, was starting to pick up on. Luckily he didn’t thanks to Brahms’ quick reflexes. That could have ended in disaster and a long lecture from both their fathers who still weren’t happy about the last time that had happened.

“It…is a bit odd, though, don’t you think?” Wendell hummed, frowning thoughtfully—a look that was mirrored on both his brother’s face and Loholt’s. “That they started not too terribly long after Morgie was publicly dubbed L & L’s bodyguards?”

“Or that none of the assassins seem to be trying to actually get close to the princes they’re supposedly trying to kill in the first place?” Brahms added, swatting at Kay’s hand when he tried to take his knife back. Clearly not trusting their friend with it while he was distracted. 

“That assassin from last week actually seemed pretty surprised when he was told he was under arrest for trying to kill the king’s sons, too.” Cai chimed in, peering down at the plate of fruit he’d borrowed from the kitchens for their hang out with furrowed brows. “As if he didn’t know who Loholt and Llacheu were.”

Florie still didn’t look completely convinced. “He could have been playing dumb in the hopes of getting a lesser punishment.” 

“No.” Loholt finally spoke, shifting from where he was sitting on his bed. “No, that doesn’t make any sense. Aren’t most assassins willing to die if they fail? And those who aren’t wouldn’t be willing to bet their lives on that flimsy excuse. Not after how badly all the previous attempts on the rest of our family’s lives have gone.”

Llacheu pointed at Loholt. “Exactly! How is that not suspicious sounding!”

“I don’t know!” Florie groaned, frustrated. “None of this makes sense either way. Why would all these assassins be after your bodyguard who no one’s ever heard of before he showed up looking for a job?”

“That’s what we need to find out!” 

The room went dead silent momentarily at the prince’s words, everyone looking at him with dread. 

“What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Llacheu, no.”  Cai put his head in his hands. Florie grimaced. Wendell and Brahms sighed, looking resigned. Loholt looked like he couldn’t believe that the two of them were related (a look his girlfriend, Angelica, who had decided that she was firmly staying out of this conversation,  shared as she glanced between them) and Kay?

He stopped trying to snatch his knife back from Brahms and snapped his fingers. “Llacheu, yes! That’s brilliant and exactly what we need to do!”

Loholt threw a pillow at him. “Don’t encourage him! Don’t you two ever learn anything?!”

"Ow! What was that for?!”

"This is why the twins even have Morgie as a bodyguard in the first place." Angelica groaned, burying her face in a throw pillow, her long silky black hair draping over the sides of it. Clearly done with both Kay and Llacheu, and rethinking her dreams of marrying Loholt and joining his family because of it. At least, that's what Llacheu—ever the one for theatre—thought she was thinking. "At the rate this is going, your father is going to lock you two in a tower and throw away the key so you'll stop getting into danger!”

"No he won't." Llacheu bristled. "Our dad's overprotective, sure, but he would never do anything like that. And even if he tried, I'm sure mom and our aunts and uncles wouldn't let him.”

Cai glanced at Wendell. "Ten silvers says that Sir Elyan will be the one helping the King lock them up." 

The manservant gave him an unimpressed look. "I'm not taking that bet; It's so obvious that that's what's going to happen that it's physically painful.”

“Fair. I probably wouldn't have taken that bet either.”

“Aw come on guys!”

“No Llacheu!”

“I'm with Florie and Loholt here, this is a really bad idea.”

“Is it though?” 

“You aren't helping Kay!”

“We are not snooping into your bodyguard’s personal life!”

------------------------------------------------------------

To absolutely no one's surprise, the group did in fact end up snooping into Morgar’s personal life after both Kay and Llacheu talked them into it. 

At least that's the word they would use. 

The others would say that they just got tired of them asking and.that they were going along with it so that the two trouble makers wouldn't get themselves killed. 

(Not that anyone would believe them, if they said that, of course). 

One would think that with the combined forces of two princes, two manservants, two princesses from separate kingdoms, and two squires (a total of eight people) and a library filled with scrolls that most people often forget even exist would be able to find something on one highly qualified young man turned bodyguard. Multiple somethings or just a single something, even. 

But no. 

To the group's absolute frustration, they couldn't find anything on the man.

No record of his birth. 

No family lines. 

Not even a whisper of a Morgar or a Morgie from  any kingdom that could be even remotely capable of what they'd all seen the princes’ bodyguard do. It frustrated Llacheu so much that he was tempted to start throwing the useless books and scrolls across the room. But he didn't. 

Mostly because Loholt, Geoffrey, Florie, and not to mention his parents would kill him if he destroyed any of the books in the castle or made more work for the castle staff. But also because he didn't really want to make more work for the castle staff in the first place and he knew that it wouldn't help their search if he did. 

So, in a great show of restraint, Llacheu bit back his frustration and his complaints (unlike Kay) and continued his search. His friends all doing the same. 

------------------------------------------------------------

“What are you up to?” 

Llacheu gave his Uncle Merlin an innocent look that he didn't buy for a second. “What? You always tell me I should read more.” 

“Yes, but court genealogy doesn't really seem like something you'd be interested in without an ulterior motive. So, I ask again. What are you up to and do I need to be prepared to stage a cover up?”

If Llacheu was seven again, he would have immediately given in and confessed to everything upon seeing Merlin cross his arms and raise the eyebrow of doom. But alas, he was not a little kid anymore. He was fifteen, so much more mature and so much more stubborn. 

“I’m not up to anything. Honest. I'm just curious.”

Merlin sighed, shaking his head and sounding almost fond as he muttered “You are your parent's son.” Walking off with the herbs he'd collected for whatever potion or spell they were needed for. Which, considering that he was both the Court Sorcerer and the New Court Physician with a family and three apprentices (Gwenhwyfach, Guiomar, and Nyneve who had agreed to cover for Llacheu if asked, bless them) of his own, could be anything.

Including another prank on Llacheu's father or some kind of cleaning powder for George, who had taken over Merlin's duties when Giaus retired and Merlin was doubly promoted. Or so Uncle Gwaine's stories told. 

(And who knew if those could be accurate, since he claimed that Uncle Will, Aunt Freya, Uncle Lancelot, and several other family friends had risen from the dead. Honestly, Llacheu wasn't born yesterday). 

------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey Artie, what are you doing, buddy?” Llacheu asked, as casually as he could manage while praying for forgiveness to whoever was listening for the scheme he had just cooked up. 

The three year old jumped away from his friends, looking guilty. “Nothin’.” 

Everard and Dragonet (Merlin and Freya’s son) were hiding something behind their backs. If Llacheu was anybody else, like Loholt, he would have pried further. Unfortunately for everyone in the castle however, Llacheu was not Loholt, and thus did not pry further or even make a mental note to warn anyone ahead of time that the three were probably going to be causing chaos. Because what would the fun in that be?

Not to mention it would be rather hypocritical of him considering what the prince was about to ask the three toddlers to do. 

“Do you want something to do?”

The trio of trouble making toddlers looked at him, immediately intrigued as every ounce of guilt drained out of them. Artie shared a look with his two friends briefly before finally answering, albeit hesitantly. “Maybe…”

------------------------------------------------------------

Llacheu's plan went off without a hitch, despite not being very-Loholt approved. 

Artie’s trio of friends had barely even needed to be bribed with the offer of sweets at all after the older Prince had showed them his (non lethal) handmade, very realistic knock off version of Uncle Merlin’s spell book that he never willingly let any of them touch unsurprised and told them that he wanted them to run around the castle with it. He'd only really needed to bribe them into doing it in front of their parents but even then it wasn't really hard to convince them. 

The offer of getting to play with a spellbook, even one that wasn't excitedly dangerous, was just too tempting of a chance to pass up. Just like Llacheu knew it would be. 

“Arthur Gaius Pendragon the 2nd—”

“Everard, please, before you give your old man a heart attack—”

“Dragonet William Bailnoir Hunithson, put the spellbook down!”

Llacheu would have felt bad if it wasn't so funny watching his dad, Uncle Merlin, and Uncle Gwaine get evaded again and again by three kids barely out of diapers with a kid friendly spellbook. If only he had a sketchbook and some artistic talent so he could capture this moment, and remember it forever. Alas, he had neither of those things nor the time. 

As soon as the teenage prince was sure no one was around he slipped into the Physician Chambers and snagged his Uncle’s real spellbook. Silently sending his Uncle an apology for the chaos he'd sent his devil spawn to cause as he slipped back out, and headed back to the stables where the others were supposed to meet him.

------------------------------------------------------------

“This isn't going to work.” 

“Yes it will.” Llacheu rolled his eyes. 

His brother and friends didn’t look convinced, and neither did his father’s prized horses (Hengroen and Llamrei) and favorite dogs (Cavall and Glessic). Which, rude, because as far as his plans usually went this one was actually probably one of his better ones. 

“You need magic to make a spell work and you don’t have magic.” Loholt reminded, apparently unwilling to let go of that particular argument. 

“Yeah, well none of you have magic either and we can’t afford to wait for Nyneve or Gwenhwyfach to get off work. So me it is—Guiomar!”

The physician-in-training immediately peaked his head into the stables. “All clear so far.” Then he retreated back into position before anyone could say anything else, throwing in his own two cents as he did. “And for the record, I believe he can do it.”

Kay cackled, the only other one who believed that there was even the slightest chance of this working. 

“See, this isn’t a complete lost cause!” Llacheu smirked. “Now, everybody stand back—ah bollocks, where’d I put the chalk?”

Wendell handed it to him. “This better work because cleaning that off the wood before anyone notices is going to be a right pain—”

“It’ll work!”

------------------------------------------------------------

The outline of Morgie was drawn. 

The herbs and oils were applied. 

The candles were lit and Morgie’s anchor (in this case, his scarf) was pinned in the center of it all.

All that was left for the group of nine to do was the spell—but Llacheu just couldn’t seem to get it right.

On the first attempt, the candles went out. On the second, the doors blew open—hitting Guiomar in the backside. On the third, the building shook and by the fourth, the young prince was starting to lose the high confidence and small amount of hope that this would work; which made it all the more fitting that that was when he finally managed to pronounce the damn thing right. 

“A éireachtach Dé Lúth-chuimhne, tabhair dom an t-údarás a implaim, agus tóg an ceanglaigh seo ionas go bhfeicim an fhírinne.” The words felt awkward on the youth’s tongue and sent a strange warmth throughout his body, his eyes especially and if he had to guess he’d wager that they were glowing—which would explain the startled looks he was getting. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that as the flames of the candles raised high into the air and the outline of Morgie blazed to life.

The spell of truth was a spell created to sniff out imposters and trace children’s liege in the hopes of finding someone who could take them in—but it was a spell that many had forgotten existed. Their uncle Merlin included. But Llacheu? He remembered. The summary and name of the spell not having left his mind since he’d first read about it all those years ago when he’d first gotten a peak at his godfather’s spellbook when he was eight years old and bored while waiting for the man to finish brewing the nasty medicine required for whatever affliction he’d had at the time. 

Llacheu hadn’t known if the spell would actually work if he’d been the one to read it, but he’d had a hunch. Just like he had a hunch that when the light faded, they would finally know at least some of the answers to their questions. 

------------------------------------------------------------

Loholt stared at the words that had appeared in the outline of Morgie, feeling faint as he leaned against one of the stalls. 

“Who the fuck is Madoc? I thought his name was Morgar?” Kay grumbled, crossing his arms. “Are you sure you grabbed the right scarf?”

“Yes I’m sure!” Llacheu snapped, tired of people asking him that question—tired of just questions in general, actually. Which is what they had just gotten more of because it turns out they didn’t really know their bodyguard at all. 

Because the spell of truth? 

It had just revealed to them that his name was not in fact Morgar or even Morgie, as they’d previously thought, but instead Prince Madoc Pendragon, son of Morgana Pendragon. As in, Llacheu and Loholt’s father’s evil half sister, Morgana Pendragon, who had died at the Battle of Camlann when trying to kill their father and likely everyone else they loved and held dear. 

Which beared the question—if the spell had actually worked, which it most certainly had, then why was Morgana’s son currently acting as their bodyguard and what did he want?

Why hadn’t he killed them yet?

The number of assassins that threatens the prince skyrocket after the king hired the new bodyguard. The king thought that is money well spent, the prince however know the truth. Those assassins weren't after his life, they are after his bodyguard's! And he is determined to find out why.

[paceprompting]

Need a Ride?

written for ‘snowfall’ wc: 1000 # | steddie | rated: g | cw: non archive warnings apply | tags: alternate first meeting, pre-season four, feat. steve harrington's beemer

@steddieholidaydrabbles

He was sending his van right to the dump this time. He meant it.

Stupid engine he’d had to drop all his profits on for the third time crapping out right in the middle of the road. Leaving him to hoof it back to the gas station and hope that Wayne was home from his shift to get the call.

And of course, the snow season had to start today.

Head ducked against the wind, with only his battle vest and leather jacket against the bracing cold and snowflakes that stung his cheeks and nose where it wasn’t covered by his hair. He was just glad that there were streetlights so he wasn’t veering off into nowhere in the dark.

He could barely feel his fingers in his pockets by the time he made it to the station. He was still shivering, so he wasn’t quite at the point of hypothermia, but even dialing the numbers on the pay phone was a bit of a feat in itself.

Eddie put his back to the wind as the phone rang. And rang. Eventually, it rang out.

Wayne must have picked up a double shift. Not unusual, especially this time of year. Honestly, Eddie should have guessed that in the first place and called the plant instead of the trailer.

And he didn’t have enough change for another call. Guess he shouldn’t have stopped to buy that pack of cigarettes. That he’d already opened and smoked one from before his shitty van broke down.

“Fuck,” Eddie hissed, smacking the receiver into the hook.

He could trudge back to the van and settle in for the night. But without heat, he’d be just as well off trying to walk home in the wind and snow. And he wasn’t going to be getting sympathy with how he was dressed for spare change, much less did he have anything to deal to someone who would give him the time of day.

If he didn’t figure this out quick, he was going to get arrested for loitering.

Although…

“Munson?”

He perked up despite himself, recognizing the voice. Even if it wasn’t exactly someone he was elated to have run into at a pretty low point in his day.

Standing there under cover from the wind, the snow fell gently onto Steve Harrington. Of course it did. Settled on his hair and his jacket like powdered sugar on an overly-sweet dessert.

He wasn’t getting gas, pulled over and stood with the driver’s door open. One hand braced on the door and the other on the hood of his car, Steve stared curiously at Eddie. He was actually dressed for the weather, a puffy white and pale blue-striped monstrosity with fur around the hood.

Steve glanced at the rest of the gas station, noticing that his was the only car around.

“What are you doing here?”

Eddie stayed beside the payphone, in the wind and snow, but the farthest he could be from Steve. He’d dealt to him a few times, just weed, really, and only knew Steve by reputation. Last he’d heard, Steve had just dumped his two lackeys, Tommy and Carol and had slung ice cream at the Starcourt Mall until it burst into flames.

Why Harrington could care about him, Eddie had no idea.

“Van broke down,” he answered shortly, shoving his hands in his pockets even though the leather was nearly as cold as the wind. He gave a strained smile. “Stuck here.”

“Phone busted?”

“Out of money.” Eddie cocked his head, feeling bold. “Got fifty cents?”

It’d be enough for another call to the trailer and one to Wayne’s work for safety.

Steve raised both brows, and Eddie blanched. He and Steve were practically strangers, and he’d immediately hit Steve up for money. Even if he was known as the rich kid with parties every week because his parents were never home—Eddie was so far off his radar, he might as well have been gum under his shoe.

“I could give you a ride,” Steve said instead. “Forest Hills, right?”

A ride in the Steve Harrington’s Beemer. Sleek and maroon and drool-worthy.

The girls at school that would have literally slit his throat to be in Eddie’s place.

Eddie’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but he managed to find words and point back at the payphone with his thumb.

“I really just need to call my uncle. He’ll come get me.”

Steve leveled a gaze at him. “And you’ll spend an hour in the snow waiting. I’m not going to leave you out here to freeze.”

Eddie sucked his teeth, staring Steve down. He hated to give Steve the point of being right, but he was starting to lose feeling in his hands and his cheeks were stinging from the wind across his face.

He sighed, wetting his bottom lip. Or tried to, since the wet from his tongue only made his face freeze more.

“Fine,” he said, ducking his head as he trudged toward the Beemer. He didn’t dare stop to double-check with Steve, wincing as he pulled his hand from his pocket to open the door and slide inside.

The inside was immediately ten times warmer, blasting from the fans and Eddie nearly moaned. Until Steve’s door slammed closed and suddenly Eddie was inside Steve Harrington’s car. With Steve Harrington.

“You good, Munson?”

He was staring, he realized only after Steve spoke. If Steve wasn’t apprehensive about letting the school freak into his car, he was sure to be when Eddie acted as though he’d been raised far from civilization.

He forced a hard swallow. “Just surprised this isn’t all some trick. My type doesn’t exactly mesh with your type.”

Steve gave this chuckle, like an inside joke only he had any idea of.

“Right,” he said softly, and Eddie definitely felt as though he was way out of the loop on a new kind of Steve Harrington.

A kind he had a single car ride to figure out.

[frudoo]

Your new Baker!Simon AU has me hooked! 🤩😊 Retired!Ghost baking away in the comfort of his home, just needing something to improve his lil’ therapy-inspired business… someone like Food-Photographer!Reader ;) You gotta tell me how absolutely OVERBOARD he goes with the dessert(s) when they schedule their first meet up. Pleeeaaaseeee?

I’m obsessed!!! ^-^ Can’t wait to hear anything else you come up with, dear Writer! Thank you for being you 🫡

Much love, keep yourself happy ‘n’ healthy and get Simon some more dough (Get it? Money = dough? But also dough ‘cause he’s a baker? Hahah. Hah…)! <3

Changed it up a bit 😉

Warnings: Body image issues, mentions of therapy.

Simon is up to his elbows in baked goods. There’s no room on the kitchen island for the tray of espresso-flavored macarons he just prepared, so he has to set them on the coffee table in his living room. On the overcrowded counter is an array of cupcakes of various flavors—chocolate, cookie butter, ube (Kyle made him try the flavor when the 141 went to the Philippines for a trip and he fell absolutely in love), all arranged on separate platters that match their color. Each treat is decorated with perfect swirls of buttercream or topped with shiny luster dust.

He can’t remember the last time he’d baked so much. Maybe it was Price’s retirement party? Honestly, he doesn’t remember much of that night, but boy does he remember the morning after. Simon can recall how he got every single scar on his broad body, but not one of those painful experiences even scratches the surface of that fucking hangover. Nevertheless, it’s been a long, long time since he’s baked so many sweets. He didn’t even eat breakfast before he started working, and that was… six hours ago? Bloody hell, how is it already nearly time?

One look at the clock and Simon is scrambling to get dressed—jeans that hang low on his waist and a simple black tee. Both fabrics stretch around the muscles he’s maintained despite the growing layer of fat around his belly. He pats his torso as he looks at himself in the mirror, cleft lip scrunched up in distaste. Maybe he should lay off of all those “quality control” taste tests. He doesn’t have much time to think about it before his doorbell rings.

God, he doesn’t think he’s ever been so nervous in his life. Not through the amount of times he’s looked death right in the eye, not when his father would come clunking home absolutely hammered, not when he held Johnny’s hand to keep him awake and alert after Makarov shot him right in the temple. But you, this sweet, pretty girl who’s coming to see him—not even for a date!—has his fingers fidgeting and his heart racing in his chest. He sucks in a deep breath and counts to three, just like his therapist taught him, then opens the door.

Simon knows he’s in for it the moment he sees you look up at him in awe, trying to hide your shock with a crooked smile. Pretty round cheeks and a soft body—he’s doing his best not to look at the dip where your blouse exposes your cleavage—and plush lips that he’s dying to feel against his own. Fuck.

“I- uh… Simon? I-I’m here about the- um. My treats. Your treats! My camer- pictures! I’m here to take pictures of your… treats.”

The man can practically see the mental faceplant you just gave yourself, and for some reason, it calms his nerves. You’re human, and you’re real, and you’re beautiful. And you’re waiting for him to invite you in.

“Pleasure. C’mon in, jus’ mind the… er. The clutter.”

Simon opens the door wider and you thank him softly, gasping when you see the amount of goodies all over his kitchen and even overflowing into the living room. There must be at least a hundred cupcakes and a few dozen macarons. It stuns you for a second but his gentle hand on your shoulder brings you back to reality. You clear your throat and smile up at him.

“You really went all out!” You giggle a bit and Simon’s heart just about leaps out of his chest—he shrugs.

“Ligh’ work,” he jokes.

You’re embarrassed by the snort that slips out of you, covering your mouth as your eyes go wide, but Simon thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He needs to snap out of it. This is business. Simon runs a hand through his slightly overgrown hair sheepishly, gesturing towards the camera that hangs by a strap on your neck.

“Oh, r-right. Did you wanna be in the photos? Get you a nice new profile picture?” You ask with a grin, carefully slipping past him to examine his work more closely. “People typically like to know the face of the person they’re ordering from.”

Simon bites the inside of his cheek, debating. The military instilled such a strict rule in him. He never posts his face out of fear someone from his past will come knocking down his door to carry out a vendetta. He was thorough in his SAS days, never allowing himself to be caught without the infamous Ghost mask, but regardless, he deems it too much of a risk. He’s thankful you seem to understand his hesitation.

“We could do a picture of you holding up a tray so it’s just your chest and arms? I could crop your face out, or we don’t have to include you in it at all. It’s up to you.”

Too fucking sweet for your own good.

“Chest ‘n’ arms’ll be fine, love,” he grunts finally, offering you a small smile.

“Sounds like a plan,” you look back to nod at him before grabbing the camera from around your neck. “Where do you wanna start?”

“Wha’ever’s easiest f’you,” Simon hums, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall to watch as you twist and turn every confectionary to find the best angle.

You’re quiet when you’re focused. The only sounds he can hear are the shutters of the camera snapping a picture or your footsteps as you step around the counter to capture every little feature of the whimsical delicacies. It’s odd. Simon doesn’t mind quiet—prefers it most of the time—but he can’t help but crave the sound of your voice explaining to him every single thought going through your head. He blames it on curiosity.

It takes all of twenty minutes for you to get every picture you need of his confections, with varying angles and lighting changes. You walk over to him and go through the photos, explaining every little detail you loved or why you changed up the order of things for a particular shot. Simon nods in approval—he genuinely could not tell the difference between most of them, but like hell he’s going to tell you that, not when you’re this close, looking up at him with that sweet, hopeful smile.

“Looks perfect t’me,” he breathes, giving you a soft pat on the back.

“Thank you,” you sniffle. “So… did you still wanna do that profile picture?”

“I- er, tha’s fine. Where d’ya need me?”

“Right over… here!” You gently grab him by his bicep and pull him to where there’s a blank wall and a good amount of light.

Simon stands in place like a studious muse while you rearrange some of his treats on one of his circular platters. You place the tallest cupcakes near the back, the smaller ones in the middle, then position the macarons in a way that showcases both their shiny tops and the perfect bake he got on them. Cautiously, you grab the tray and take it over to him.

“Here, hold it just- yeah, just like that. Perfect.”

You bite your lip when you carefully maneuver his arms into a position where the light captures the depth of his faded tattoos and prickling veins—you convince yourself it’s to give the picture more personality. Simon’s just glad that his face won’t be visible. He’s praying right now that you don’t notice how fucking red he’s gotten just from your delicate touches and the way you stare at his arms and chest. It makes him feel insecure and as a result he sucks in his belly. His heart skips a beat when you frown.

“Don’t do that,” you whisper, hesitating before lightly placing your hand on his stomach to encourage him to relax. “Looks better like this.”

In less than ten words—far fewer than his therapist has spoken over the past few years, fewer than every single uplifting word he’s written in his journals—you’ve managed to silence the unrest in his head that tells him he’s not good enough, if only just for a few moments. His breath hitches in his throat as you step back to take a final picture. Satisfied, you take the platter from his hands and set it aside, giving him a shy grin.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep-”

“No, don’t apologize. I, uh… I needed tha’. Thank you,” his voice trails off as he looks down at you.

You nod shortly, sucking in a deep breath. He’s so close and it makes you dizzy.

“Right. I guess I’ll head out, and as soon as I get the pictures edited, I’ll send them to you?” You bite your lip and Simon has to resist the urge to lean in and take a nip for himself.

“Oh, please, take some o’this. I don’t know wha’ t’do w’all of it,” he scratches the back of his neck timidly.

Taking one last quick look around his house, you hum thoughtfully.

“I have an idea.”

[everyonewooeverywhere]

X-RATED X-MAS DAY 1: TATTOO ARTIST SEONGHWA

pairing: tattoo artist!seonghwa x female!reader

rating: 18+

content/warnings: pet names (baby, pretty girl), oral sex (m rec.)

notes: this is just day 1! so if you have any requests or ✨thoughts✨ my inbox is open

NSFW 18+ | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

His face always lights up when he sees you book with him. Has a special notification just for it, and he always gets so excited seeing that “Baby 💋” booked his late-night slot. You were always intentional about that, weren’t you? Making sure to make your appointments well into the night. Usually long after everyone else would be gone. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t make those appointments just for you. After all, he could always focus better when it was just him alone with his favorite client. 

Makes himself sick with anticipation just wondering what you’re gonna get this time. There are so many places he hasn’t done yet. Your spine, your sternum, and even your collarbone still lay untouched by his art. And he’s just been begging for the day that he finally gets there. Just thinking about it makes him hard. And you haven’t even walked in the door yet. But simply imagining the way his ink lays out on your skin is so fucking enthralling to him. His baby. His favorite canvas.

Everyone is practically gone by the time you usually come in. And he’s only aware of your presence because of the bell above the door that dings when it swings open. That coupled with the clack of your heals on the tile floor and the way you call his name. “Hwa? You here?” And you continue to his station when he calls to you “Over here, baby.” He fails to hide the way he eyes you up and down as you walk over to him. Smiling when you greet him with a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting his hands fall to your waist.

And he always asks, “What are we doing today, pretty girl?” You start playing with the ends of his hair. He knows what thet means straight away. You frown a bit, letting your lip jut out at him, “I wanted to get my tailbone done. I don’t really know what though…but you always know how to make me look pretty.” He smirks at you, “Thank you, baby. I’ll draw up something really pretty for ya. Now what was our budget for today?” It’s a leading question. You both know it. And you just look up at him with big eyes, lip pulled between your teeth. He never should have asked. It’s not like he was gonna make you pay anyway. Not with money at least.

You always look so painfully pretty in his chair, too. And back tattoos are his favorite. Gives him such a perfect view of your ass. Which you playfully wiggle for him from time to time. Just for him to smack your thigh and tell you to “Sit still, baby” before going back to his work. But he’s always shamelessly hard when he’s tattooing you. Especially when you whine at something hurting. Or when you just talk to him in that sweet voice of yours. The one you use when you want something.

And you do want something. Not just the free tattoo. And Seonghwa always pretends he’s not gonna fuck you. Telling you he has to “be professional” and warning that sex with a very fresh tattoo is a horrible idea. But when he finishes your little tramp stamp and the first thing you do is drop to your knees in front of his mirror? He has no other choice. His fingers are tangled in your hair as you bob your head on his cock. Always taking him so well. Your hands, which are adored with his work, gripping his thighs for dear life. And he can act surprised all he wants, but in the end you’re always just his pretty girl on your knees for a pretty tattoo.

general taglist: 

@swimmingkpopblog @oddracha @drinkingrumandcocacola @minaateez @funnyvxlentine 

@sunnysidesins @skzdust @princelingperfect @seomisaho @bigboymoozz

@fireseo @atzlordz

ateez taglist: 

@certifiedmoa @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @curiousgworge @hyukssunflower @hotteokisms 

@sushiinmidnight @atiny-dime-p1ece @mismatchfluffysocks @vic0921 @vampzity 

@breadpuddingboys @woolysium @desirehorizon @im-ovulation @pommelex 

@dancingwithdeities @maidens-world @jycas @kirbrary @aftertherain-atr 

@staytinyinmybpack @m4n4-s4m4 @jjcanwrite @yvnhoos @uninterested-ghost 

@yizhou-time @shinyj3lly @kyeos4ng @prettygirlslietoo @miriamxsworld 

@tiny2018 @ttdogsworld @kejingken @fandom-freak-geek @minkioswoo 

@bkimrose @strawbshrtcks @dwcljh @linearities @tiredlittlevirgo

@kwoncheesecake

[thepandalion]

as someone who wrote and published both the actual process of writing is pretty similar, the main differences come in the way of like. publishing.

like sure you get editors who are professionals with degrees if you publish as a book but also like. the size and weight and color of pages. needing a cover design and blurbs for the back of it etc. a lot of publishing houses will take care of it for you (yknow. for more money) but if you know what you're doing you can do most of the actual work on your own?

then again I'm not a "professional" writer, of the genre that work for their publications and get paid regular wages to put words in a page - which is where a lot of bad writing happens, because you can't rush art. that's another reason why fanfics can be "better" than their professional counterparts - if I write a fanfic, and I get stuck mid-writing, I'm not gonna be fired for it (same for when you write and publish independently. I wrote exactly one book and it was mostly poetry and I didn't even do any marketing because that's actually one of the most expensive parts of publishing a book, at least so far as the local publishing scene is concerned)

like. it's a bit like video games, in the sense where you have indie developers change everyone's lives forever, or you can have a triple-a company make a game and it's popular enough to be sold on the Platform of the media (game stores&steam for games, much like bookstores or audiobooks or whatever with writing) but then everyone can agree it's nowhere near the level of dedication you get coding a product of art and love and passion by yourself

and games also have "editors"- both literal people on boards for the big game companies and like.. playtesters. people who make sure your game is a game. books have that too (I'm in a class that teaches editing books this semester and I lowkey hate it but also I happen to be really good at it which might and might not have to do with volunteering to beta read for my friends any time they write fanfic). and.. yeah. beta-read fanfic is a bit of that too. it's "why does he do that?" and "oh this is a good line" and "I think you need punctuation here but I could be wrong, what did you plan for this to mean, exactly?"

like. I write both books and fanfics and also like.. I use actual literary techniques I use in my book writing when I write fanfiction too- I have a character in a fanfic who is a siren, and I plan to have two different "routes" for the fic. in one of them, he speaks, thereby dooming his shipmates. in the other, any time he would have dialogue, I go around it with "he claimed we cannot do that" and the like, rather than direct quoting of the character, and in that universe everyone survives. that's something I learned in a professional writing class and I use it in fanfiction and I'm pretty sure that unless I specifically mention, in the notes of that fic, that that was an intentional artistic choice, nobody would notice. but that's fine, because I write this for my own benefit.

also, kinda lost the point I wanted to make with that example running a bit long, but like. as a person who both writes and edits, both of whom I do on both professional and fanfic levels, the difference is really not about that at all?

(I sit in class and argue about what word describes baby talking an adult, while the original chapter we're translating is in a language neither me nor the other student know, but I definitely side with our teacher who thinks explaining what you mean in a third language does nothing for editing a translation. that's a class about professional editing for translated literary works. the teacher occasionally remarks that my way of thinking and explaining reminds him a lot of the near-mythological editor he used to work with, and I think about how that might be because literary-editing is something I learned from my dad, who is also a professional editor, and who has also met your near-mythological editor before.

I also, at other times, sit my beloved friend on a call and we talk about fanfics they write and I don't notice until after the call ends that the way I talk when we have those fanfic-editing sessions is more similar to my dad with the independent authors he edits and publishes books with, rather than how I sound just talking fandom with my friends)

I’d like everyone to see this

{Credit to amalasrosa on Twitter}

[tpwk-formula1]

Biggest Fan - CS55

A/N - I decided to turn the Biggest Fan SMAU I did for Charles last week into a mini series where I use the same idea but with a different driver and different occupations. Please vote at the end of the chapter!

Carlos Sainz x Author! reader

Face Claim: Alex Aster

Carlos Sainz Insta Story

Youruser: How did you come into the office without me noticing?!

carlossainz55: you were quite focused

landonorris: I better get my copy! I've been itching to read

carlossainz55: Didn't even realize you knew how to read landonorris: you fucking muppet

user1: She's literally the cutest! I can't wait to read her new book!

user2: I just know this book is gonna be amazing!

charlesleclerc: Alex says she absolutely loves the book and thank you so much for an early copy

carlossainz55: I just told her and she squealed. She said Alex is her new favorite person

Twitter

Youruser Insta Story

user10: I loved meeting you! You are one of the sweetest humans ever!

youruser: thank you for coming out and supporting!

user11: I wanted to go so bad... fuck living in the US

carlossainz55: I loved being there! Who knew so many people loved you almost as much as me

youruser: I guess I'm irresistible

user12: I just finished and let me just say... Absolutely amazing book! Your best one yet

landonorris: I didn't realize how good your book would be! Made the flight back home after the race go by so fast!

Carlos Insta Story

youruser: Thank you for being there with me every step of the way

carlossainz55: I wouldn't miss your first book signing for the world!

user13: She's so beautiful in person! I took wouldn't be quiet about dating her!

charlesleclerc: Can't believe you wouldn't let us come!

carlossainz55: I wasn't gonna take away from her moment! Bad enough people knew who I was. I didn't need you and Lando there too charlesleclerc: No I fully understand! Just wish we could support her without it being a distraction

user14: One of her best books yet!

Twitter

Carlos Insta

Liked by youruser, charlesleclerc, yourbff, and 2,319,942 others

carlossainz55 My favorite game everytime we travel is seeing how many countries sell my girl's books!

tagged youruser

youruser I still can't believe how many places we visit actually have my books on shelves!

user20 Wait that's actually so precious because you guys travel so much and to take time to look through shops and find her books is the sweetest

user21 "my girl"

charlesleclerc You'd be surprised with how excited they both get when they find one of her books!

landonorris Honestly the most fun part of traveling with you two is going into random book shops and looking for Y/N L/N books

user22 I remember when I first got into reading I didn't think I'd find your books in my book shop but was so pleasantly surprised how many shops sell your amazing writing!

user23 literally learned how to read English so I could enjoy her books!

load more comments

Youruser Insta Story

carlossainz55 you deserve all the good things in the world

user24 I can't believe I was able to get my hands on a signed copy! Stayed up so late to make sure it was in my cart the second it dropped

landnorris so I may have slept through my alarm... if I apply pay you $1,000 will you bring a signed copy to me... PLEASE

youruser why do I feel like this is for your secret girlfriend landnorris YOUR HER FAVORITE AUTHOR OKAY! youruser No money but I'll sign her copy next time we're at a race together

user25 I tried so hard! Didn't realize how dedicated your fans would be

youruser send me an address and I'll send you a surprise! user25 OMG WHAT? Thank you so much!

user26 Didn't get a signed copy online because I get to get my copy signed when I see you in 2 weeks! Can't believe the paddock is letting you hold a mini signing... literally so cute

your insta

Liked by carlossainz55, sabrinacarpenter, and 1,890,092 others

youruser Mexico City you have been so beautiful! A Carlos win and a book signing in the Paddock? How can my weekend get any better

tagged carlossainz55

user27 Stop I know this weekend has been the best time for Y/N

user28 What an amazing time to be alive as a Y/NCarlos fan

landonorris I knew your books were a big deal but I'm stunned with how long the line was

charlesleclerc was so happy to finally be able to come to a book signing!

user29 the way Charles said it was his first book signing with Y/N because Carlos doesn't let any of the drivers come because he wants to make sure all attention is on her

user30 wait is this true? That's so cute

carlossainz55 It was so fun to see you in your element at my work

youruser I loved every moment of this weekend

The End

[uyuforu]

Venus Persona Chart Observations I

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Your Love Story based on your Juno PC

જ⁀➴ Union Persona Chart I

જ⁀➴ Boda Persona Chart II

READINGS BOOKING OPEN

email adress: tarotjunoboda@gmail.com

Soft To You presentation and Q&A ᡣ𐭩 rules ᡣ𐭩 private readings reviews

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⟡ ݁₊❤ Pisces Rising/ 12°, 24° on Rising︎ can mean you can appear as very charming, cute, innocent, emotional, someone your partners will want to protect, very young at heart. They will think you are too precious for this world, and they'll have to take responsibilities on you.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Virgo Rising/ 6°, 18° on Rising︎ can mean you can be quite cold or detached at first glances from your lovers. You can be reserved, and it can simply show you do not want to open yourself to anyone. You can also appear as someone faithful, practical, serious, and a perfectionist. You are not there to mess around, and your partners can see that.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Scorpio Rising/ 8°, 20° on Rising︎ can mean you'll appear as very mysterious, cold sometimes too, you'll appear as someone who only smile around people you love. You can look intimidating too, but sexy as well. Something about you makes people drawn to you. You look like you have many layers to peel, and little by little, your partners will discover who you are.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Chiron conjunct Rising︎ can mean you can not be confident in how you approach romantic connections. You can also be triggered about romantic connections and you can show yourself as someone who do not want to be hurt. Which in fact show that you have been deeply wounded before.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Groom/ Briede in 10H or conjunct MC︎ can mean everyone will love your spouse. You can also admire them a lot. Your spouse can also make you more popular.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Groom/ Briede in 10H or conjunct MC but for yourself (meaning you are the Groom or Bride)︎ can mean you'll be loved by people after getting married. People can think you are more lovable or popular after marriage.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Moon 12H︎ can mean you can often not like to accept your feelings when you are in love, you can have hard time to even acknowledge you are in love with someone. It may take time.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Jupiter 2H︎ can mean you can often find yourself in relationships where people gift you a lot of things. You can often gain a lot from relationships. You can also find yourself in a relationship with people who have more money from you.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Jupiter 2H︎ can also mean you have a good self esteem, a good fashion sense. You also can pull anyone, in a sense that if you boost your self confidence, you can clearly have anyone you want. It's easy for you to be in a relationship, you attract that a lot.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Sun opposite Rising ︎ can mean you are very different from how your lovers first perceive you.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Saturn 2H︎ can mean you can have hard time with self confidence, and you can have a hard time to also get into relationships. It can also be that you have hard time to let people in.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Jupiter conjunct Saturn 2H ︎means in this case you have a balanced self esteem, and you can have a good confidence sometimes, but Saturn can make you able yo know when to humble yourself. You can also feel like despite attracting many good things in yourself that you do not deserve any of those. You need to be less hard on yourself and accept you deserve those good things.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Juno in 2H︎ can mean your FS can gift you many things, they can also be quite possessive with you. You can also love that your FS is always there for you, you'll feel like you can rely on them. You'll feel very stable with your FS, and you'll love your everyday life with them. It can also mean your FS will make you feel more confident in yourself, you can also glow up thanks to them.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Juno in 8H︎ can mean your FS will share their money with you, you can find yourself have a bigger money income thanks to them. You can also feel like you love your FS the most, and you can also feel the most loved by them. The s3xual tension can also be intense with you two.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Venus in Virgo︎ can mean you love in a very practical and logical way, people around you can have the sensation you are quite cold with them, but in fact you show your love in a very different way. You can love people and show them through act of services, knowing you make the life of your loved one easier is such a good thing to you.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Venus in 6H︎ usually indicates you are very generous. You are the kind to absolutely want your loved one to know you love them very much. You can also be quite strict or perfectionist with your love for others. You can feel like you need to do more for others all the time. You'll never count the money you spend for others, as long as they are happy, you'll be happy.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Venus in Pisces︎ can mean you are extremely romantic, perhaps a little too much because it can mean you tend to romanticize things or people. Though, you want a love as romantic and devoted that you can give. You want someone who wan love you like it's the most romantic movie in your life.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Venus in 7H︎ can mean you want a love that will last forever. You dream of a romantic marriage, a marriage where you and your spouse will love eternally, without cheating and lies, only the good parts. You can also want to have the most romantic love story you'll experience in your life with your spouse.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Venus conjunct Saturn︎ can mean your love for others usually last a very long time. Once you love, it's forever. It can also mean you can have the sensation you are hard to love, or that no one will love you like you truly want to.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Moon in Cancer︎ can mean you'll want stability in your love life, and you can perhaps also want a family. You'll want children with the one you'll love. You'll dream of being a family too.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Moon in Pisces︎ can mean you'll want romance, you'll want to feel like you make one with your partner. You'll want emotions and feelings. You'll want little attentions everyday that will feel like your romance never ends.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Moon 12H︎ may also mean that you want a lot of emotions connection during steamy times.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Moon 10H︎ can mean people can see you as emotional, or they can think you are very emotional in relationships. You can also tend to show your emotions more when you are dating someone or when you are in a relationship.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Mercury Aquarius︎ can mean you tend to express your romantic feelings in a very unique way but it's very exceptional in a way, because you'll put a lot of thoughts in how to make it the most unique experience for the other person.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Mercury Aquarius 6H︎ makes the native very unique in the way they express their feelings, but mostly they will think hard, put a lot of effort in every details of it, nothing will be a coincidence in what they will say. They will be very smart and will think every words that will go out of their mouth.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Mars conjunct Mercury︎ can mean your way to express yourself to your loved ones, but mostly in relationships can cause a lot of misunderstand, you can lose control on what you say and sometimes it can be problematic. You can say something that can be interpreted in a very different way than what you meant.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Pluto 3H︎ can mean you'll need to change the way you speak, express yourself or, if you have communication issues, you'll need to work on those.

⟡ ݁₊❤ North Node 3H︎ means your lesson in your love life will be mostly about the way you communicate your feelings. You'll work on your communication issues.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Pluto conjunct North Node 3H︎ can mean you'll need to undergo a huge transformation because you'll need to work on your communication issues, and this will be destined in a sense because this is your lesson.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Saturn square North Node︎ can mean you'll take a long time before realizing what you need to work on. You can also learn this lesson around your Saturn return, or this lesson can mostly activate around this return.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Neptune 11H︎ can mean you dream of a love story that is perfect and like in your dream, but it's clearly a sign of impossible to make this dream come true. Your perfect love story will only happen in your mind.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Neptune conjunct Uranus means you dream of a love that will be very unique, something that will change you and your life. You imagine and want love to be exciting, something that will constantly surprise you and keep you on your feet.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Neptune 5H︎ can mean you can dream of a love story with romantic and creative gesture. You'll want your lover to make the most artistic love declarations to you. It can be through music, or like writing love letters, example.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Groom/ Briede 10H︎ also means you'll admire your FS very much and you'll think they are more bold or courageous than you. You will look up to them.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Groom/ Briede conjunct North Node︎ can mean a life lesson about romance and love life will be caused by your FS. It can also mean you are meant to love your FS.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Venus conjunct Mercury ︎means you usually are very good for love declarations and confessions. You make it the most poetic and romantic.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Groom/ Briede 6H︎ means your FS will make you feel like you deserve all the love in the world, you'll feel their love in everyday life, in the routine, you'll feel more confident, you can also have a better mental and physical health thanks to them. They will spoil you too.

⟡ ݁₊❤ Boda 9H︎ can mean you truly believe in marriage and weddings. Big plus if you also have/ or have Venus 7H or 9H Ruler is Venus, or even if 9H ruler is in 7H.

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[mochinomnoms]

Any updates on domestic and father PTM Jade head cannons? I need him now more than ever.

This applies to both versions of Jade, but the domestic life is very suitable for him! Though, I don't think that comes as any surprise.

Of course he's excellent at homemaking duties, so the home is decorated nicely, the kitchen is often running some sort of meal, and the house smells like a home, if that makes sense.

Despite his family's money and status, Jade isn't one to have a bunch of servants in his home, he considers it a private space and Jade does very much enjoy his privacy. So most the duties in the home are done by him, as he does like it done a certain way. A few things, like washing dishes, folding laundry, making the bed, those are shared between you two.

When children enter the picture, the shared duties do get moved around to suit the need of a new little creature in the home. He's a very doting father, a bit more like his mother in this regard. Jade has an urge to keep his children next to him at all times, but does enjoy watching them get into mischief.

In the sea, it's not uncommon to see Jade swimming around with the little ones grasping his dorsal and arm fins for reassurance and support. It's such a cute contrast, the large, sharp toothed predator with tiny, fragile elvers latched to his side.

Seeing how small they really are does bring in some perspective as to why his mother was the way she was growing up. Small, soft things rarely survive in the sea, is this what he looked like to his mother? Tiny, meek, and clingy?

It's no wonder she was so protective, and Jade can't help but relate to the sentiment. He does want them to get into their own trouble, just has he and Floyd did, but the itch inside him doesn't agree. Instead, Jade gets you to take on that role, the overprotective parent, egging you on and then teasing you after for being so "smothering". But anyone who watches you all close enough can clock in on just who the smothering one is.