#“i want you to feel supported jane”

[large-penises-sporting-goods]

Apparently the other night after closing, somebody climbed a tree??? broke into the store??? via the roof???? stole a bunch of (relatively) high value items??? And THIS is what gets corporate to finally give us a security guard??? But for only two days until the roof is fixed??? Um. What??????????

[fideidefenswhore]

If only Henry's marriage to Catherine of Aragon counted in Catholic eyes, does this mean Mary wouldn't theoretically consider any of his other wives 'real' stepmothers, as such? If she did, how would she rationalise defying the Pope's will, whilst upholding the papal authority to sanction the marriage of her parents?

She probably never did, based on the wording of that Act in question. Her attitude towards papal authority during her own reign was...contradictory in other ways, however.

[wendybergmann]

the biggest emotional whiplash this episode was me about to celebrate jamie's dad being dead to the reveal that he's in rehab and having to sit with the dread of the show giving jamie's dad a redemption arc

[moonshineinkwell]

“I don’t want to be alone.”

comic panel from a comic that i lost motivation on

i think it would be very lonely, waking up to remember that all your new friends voted for you to survive

[freebooter4ever]

This is 1000% random but came to mind regarding the duck movie. I sometimies watch movies without sound if I think they might ~suck~ like that... so just a tip if you want to see it but not sort of experience it :D hahahha

heh, well. ive already seen it fully so the damage has been done. i bought it even, thinking i would want to rewatch it, but i really REALLY dont think i will. ever. i have watched a LOT of bad movies for my stupid infatuations over the years so honestly im used to it.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

just for tonight

a/n: sure, I was vigilantly working on a different wip (a very long one that needed a lot of strength to get through) but then this whole fantasy came to me and i just couldn't stop myself... at least i downgraded the idea from a full-fledged series (which i sadly very much do not have the time for) to just a slutty little one shot in an au that i can always pop back into whenever the itch pops up (or when anyone has a slutty request for it hehe).

summary: before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?” 

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader, smut, reader's mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, posh political party, alcohol consumption, wet dream, lingerie, stockings, one night stand (except we already know those fools can't keep it to just one night), kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, oral, fingering, impact play, squirting, gaping, belly bulge, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 4907

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“You sure, you don’t want some?” you squinted over at your bodyguard as you lowered the champagne flute from your lips, “this shit costs more than my dress, which is really saying something,” you pointed to the red silk gown that hung from your frame, “this is Dior.”

“I’m good, miss,” Bucky uttered, tight-lipped as always. 

“Right, sorry,” you sat the glass down at the tall table you stood beside, “can’t drink while on duty.”

Posh parties such as the one tonight were always a bit of a drag to get through. Even though you’d been hauled along for most of your life, they’d never gotten any more amusing. 

But when your mother hired Barnes to be your personal bodyguard a few months back, the thought of getting dolled up just to have a bunch of provoking politicians talk your ear off about ideas you’d never in a million years support, somehow didn’t seem as bad as it used to now that he was constantly at your side. 

It had been a little incident involving your phone getting hacked, an explicit video nearly getting leaked, one that had been made for an ex who lived in another country to make the distance more barrable, and a few threatening messages from the perpetrator that had been the reason for your new shadow. 

Though you’d been resistant at first, storming into your mother’s office to state that you were a grown woman and didn’t need a babysitter just because someone tried to exploit an old sex tape that in your opinion wasn’t even that big of a deal, swiftly got squashed when a then stranger cleared his throat behind you and shared the more gruelling threats that had been made alongside the hacking. 

You’d hoped and prayed that he’d turn out to be a pain, that his personality could squash the feelings that fluttered inside of you whenever you looked at him, but unfortunately, he wasn’t an asshole. He was quiet, professional to a fault, but he wasn’t a dick. If anything, all of the silence and all of the glances to always keep track of you made the crush worse. It made you feel as if you were in a Jane Austen novel, reading between the lines of subtext your unreliable brain came up with.

“You tired?” he asked as a yawn rolled out of you. 

“Mhm,” you hummed behind the palm you had brought up to your lips. 

“The car’s ready to take you back to the embassy whenever you are.” 

A grateful smile twitched at your lip as you offered him a small nod of confirmation, “I’ll just go tell my mom.”

The ambassador, your mother, had her back turned to you as she talked business with a small group of people even though the hour had grown late. 

You waited for a sliver of a break before you tapped her on the shoulder and whispered in her ear.

“Hey, mom?” her palm found yours as she turned to look at you, “I’m gonna head home.”

“Oh, alright,” she leaned in and pressed a small peck to your cheek, “see you tomorrow, love.”

“Bye,” you gave her hand one last squeeze before heading out of the elegant venue, your guard still only a few paces behind you. 

A dusty drizzle met your skin as you exited onto the midnight streets of Paris. The sensation made you want to walk home, though you still followed Bucky to the black car already waiting and slipped in when he opened the back door for you. 

The light from the city reflected on the back of his metal hand as it gripped the steering wheel. You could faintly spot the prominent veins on the other one dance beneath the inked skin as it did the same, tattoos you still ached to discover just how far they stretched beneath his dark suit. 

Though soon your gaze flickered away from his silhouette as he drove, and fluttered out to the glittering cityscape rolling by, the vision of which swiftly lulled you to sleep. 

When you arrived home, Bucky’s steely eyes found your slumbering form in the rear-view mirror. You didn’t rouse when he opened your door and carefully picked you up into his arms. You didn’t wake either as he carried you inside, all the way up to your bedroom, and layed you down on your bed. 

Gently, he removed your heels and quietly placed them down on the hardwood floor before he grabbed your duvet and tugged it over your form. 

But just as he moved to leave your side, half asleep you caught his hand.

“Don’t go…” you murmured hazily, eyes still shut. 

And so, he didn’t.

Bucky simply reached for the tufted chair nearby and, as silently as he could, scooted it closer to the bed. 

Barely an hour passed before you woke. 

Before you even blinked open your eyes, your fingers began to slide down your body as the sinful dream you’d been blessed with still lingered in your foggy brain. 

Though when your eyes did flutter open and discovered the star of the dream sitting in a chair right next to you, your hand halted its voyage, and you sucked in a startled breath. 

“You okay?” he asked softly as you blinked a few times. 

“Uh,” the throbbing that still lingered from the dream probably wasn’t going to fade any faster with him sitting there with his unwavering stare, “yeah, I’m–, uhm…” you propped yourself up on your elbow before sitting up more, “I’m fine.” 

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, it wasn’t a–…” your sentence then crumbled as you sucked in a breath, “what are you doing watching me sleep?”

As you met his gaze, he then uttered, “you asked me to stay.”

Your eyes then widened, “I did?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” though you couldn’t recall, heat still began to bloom on your cheeks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“It's alright,” his shoulders offered a faint shrug. 

Averting your gaze, you noticed that you were still in your dress. You weren’t quite sure if it pleased you or not that Bucky didn’t try to strip it off you, though it was probably less the moral intentions and more the fantasy of him peeling it off of you that swayed you. 

“Were you just planning on sleeping in that chair all night?” you asked. 

“No,” he shook his head, “I wasn’t planning on sleeping at all.” 

A tinge of guilt stung in your chest, “I’m really sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I must have been asleep or something…” you then swung your legs over the side of the bed and got up. As your fingers raised up to pluck off your sparkling earrings, your feet began to carry you in the direction of your wardrobe. Dropping the jewellery off in a small porcelain bowl on the opposite bedside table, you then glanced back at your bodyguard and said, “you don’t have to stay any longer, you can go back to your room and get some sleep.” 

Offering you a nod, he then began to walk towards the door. 

Though, as you reached back to undo your dress, you abruptly uttered, “wait,” and he stopped before his steely fingers could enclose around the door handle. Turning to glance back at you, a bold request then hesitantly fell from your lips, “could you maybe help unzip me?”

He barely made a noise, simply hummed quietly in response before his slow stride carried him towards your frame as it twisted for your back to be turned to him.

When you felt his touch on the zipper, tugging it down ever so slowly, your breath came in ragged, and your eyes fluttered shut. You swore you felt his radiating heat seep into you as he exposed more of your goosebump-ridden spine. 

As the straps tumbled over your shoulders, your hands came up to your chest to hold it up even though you wished for nothing more than to let it drop before him.

And when the zipper finally reached its end, he lingered right behind you just long enough for you to catch the tether of it. Slowly, as if you were dealing with a skittish bird, you rotated around. You didn’t dare to look him in the eyes as you let yourself follow that magnetic pull you’d been trying to keep at bay. Your gaze flickered up to his lips as heated puffs of air seeped from your lungs and you slowly, hypnotically, inched closer. 

But then Bucky opened his mouth and said in a soft and quiet tone, “what are you doing?” making you halt, though not pull back. 

“Please don’t act like you don’t already know… I know you do…”

“You can’t,” he uttered, though didn’t move to walk away either as he captured your gaze, “we can’t, alright?”

“Why not?” you breathed, your eyes returning to his lips, “is it really that important for you to stay professional over everything else? Or is it that I’m just a job to you?” your heart felt as if it was gonna beat straight out of your chest, “you know I like you, I know you do. You notice everything, so of course you know. Am I right?”

A long exhale then flowed from his lungs before the faintest of nods tilted his head, “…yeah.”

“And I have eyes too, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” a shiver trickled down your spine, “so, are you really gonna just stand there and pretend you don’t feel something too? Just go back to your own room and continue to protect me like nothing’s going on?”

“Y/n, I can’t be with you,” he shook his head heavily, “you know I can’t.” 

Can’t or won’t?

Before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?” 

As if your quiet whispers melted him completely, your bodyguard breathed, “…fuck…” and the next thing you knew, he’d grabbed your face and seized your lips. 

It was like something inside of him had snapped, something you had shattered, with the way that he kissed you as if he’d been drowning and your lips were oxygen. 

As you lost yourself in the sensation of his tongue dancing across your own, you let the red dress drop down your body, passed the sheer stockings that clung around your thighs, to the floor. Like fire, one of his hands disappeared from your cheek and ran down your frame, grazing over the black lingerie that was now exposed.  

Though heated and hungry at first, the kiss soon softened into lighter pecks. 

With his metal hand, he held your face close to his as he withdrew from the kiss, an action you weren’t quite ready for as you dreamily trailed after him a bit, longing for his lips. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” his hot breath fanned across your features. 

“Yes,” you whispered swiftly. 

But as you dizzily blinked up at him, he simply hummed for you to elaborate, “hm?”

“Yes, I want you,” goosebumps tingled across your skin. 

“You want me to what?” his thumb swiped over your cheekbone. 

“I want you to–, to–…” you fumbled as you felt your desire drip and soak your panties, making them cling to your aching core. 

“To what, huh?” 

“To–… fuck me,” the embarrassingly desperate words tumbled out your mouth. 

“You want me to fuck you?” his unwavering stare briefly dropped to your parted lips.

“Yes,” the syllable rushed out of you. 

“Say it again,” he tilted his chin. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Louder,” his feet began to shift, causing yours to shuffle back as well. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

“One more time,” his hand had dropped down to your jaw and his fingers curled slightly to dent your soft cheeks. 

“I want you to fuck me, please!” 

With the hold he had on you, he swiftly dipped down and pressed his lips to yours once more. The world then fell out from under you as his grasp scooped down your frame and plucked you up.

Your arms tangled around his neck right before your back collided with the closet door and your lips tilted away from his as a short squeak slipped out. The distance however lent Bucky to let his kisses dance down the length of your neck and across your cleavage, so perfectly framed by the sheer fabric of your bra. 

Though the hickeys he began to plant across your skin made your eyes roll in your skull, your fingers still captured his tie and tugged him back up for your lips to crash against his. As you moved to push his blazer off, his sturdy grip on you shifted though still held you close as the jacket fell from his burly frame and your palms swiftly scooped over his broad shoulders and down his chest, now one layer closer to letting you actually get to feel the furnace roiling beneath.

Cupping his face close, whimpers seeped out of you and vibrated against his lips as his fingers dug into your ass and rubbed your barely covered cunt over the palpable tent in his pants, your want surely drenching through your thin underwear and marking him as well. 

You almost didn’t realise that Bucky had moved till he dropped you down on the bed. Taking a step back, his tongue briefly flicked across his breathless lips as his fingers lifted to tug his tie off. 

Staring directly into your soul, he uttered, “take your bra off,” as he tossed the tie to the floor and your fingers scrambled to fulfil his request. When you flung the lingerie to the ground, right next to his crumbled tie, the cool night air kissed your pebbly nipples and Bucky let out a murmured curse right before bending down to press his lips to yours. 

Balanced on your elbows, you parted your lips and let his tongue sweep across your own. His touch coasted down your frame, barely granting your tits any attention before his grasp hooked around your thighs and yanked you closer to the edge of the mattress. A surprised yelp escaped you at first at the sudden shift, but as the sting of saliva, that had lingered and connected you from your sloppy kiss, snapped back against your skin, the short cry morphed into a fizzy giggle. 

The light laugh however faded away when you watched him sink to his knees at the foot of the bed. Your legs curled up even further on either side of you, though you weren’t quite sure if that was you or him pushing them up and cracking you open that much more. You could feel his breath hit your pantie-clad core as his gaze fixated on the soaked spot right over your puff. 

When his palm slid up your inner thigh, he only had to reach out his thumb for the broad pad to ghost over your covered slit. His eyes swiftly flickered up to capture yours, checking your reaction as you began to squirm from his feathery light touch. 

Hooking his finger in the gusset, he pulled it to the side and a glossy string stretched out and clung to the fabric as he revealed your glistening pussy. 

A breathy moan billowed out of you as he began to touch you, rolling your little pearl beneath his touch. Finding your eyes once more, he held your gaze as he then leaned down to press a gentle kiss over your clit. 

“This okay?” his voice vibrated against your bundle of nerves, making you twitch. 

“Mhm,” you nodded foggily, “you can do anything you want.”

“Anything?” his lips twitched into a smirk as his fingers stretched from where they were clutching your panties to brush over your button.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “fucking anything.” 

Your mouth then hung agape at the sight of him dipping down to ruthlessly taste your desire. It didn’t take long before he lost himself in you so fiercely that he momentarily leaned back only to rip your underwear off. Both of his hands curved around your bottom, raking across your skin as he drew you even closer to his tongue and dragged it through your wet folds.

Bumping his nose against your clit, he let himself make out with your cunt a moment longer before planting a farewell peck over your pearl and pulling back. A dollop of spit dropped from his lips down onto your pussy. Catching the drop with his fingers before it slid away, he rubbed it into your own juices and made you that much more of a mess. 

“O-oh,” you moaned as he slowly slid a long finger into you after teasing your weepy entrance enough to make you shiver. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned at the soppy sounds his efforts conjured.

Craning down to kiss your clit sloppily, Bucky then slid his ring finger in beside the other, curving them gently as he reached even deeper. 

When he momentarily retracted his digits to land a small tap over your puffy petals, the smile that bloomed on your face only egged him on further. Plugging you back up, he then retracted and repeated the slap though with more ferocity. 

Your head began to lull a bit as he brought his vibranium digits down to roll your clit and his fingers began to fuck you harder, not faster, but with an intent that made your pussy sing for him. 

With your thighs trembling, they nearly slammed shut as you felt the end near, but your bodyguard only slid his strong metal forearm over your legs, hooking it right under both of your bent knees, to keep you spread nice and open for him. 

The veins on the back of his inked hand popped from how fiercely his fingers rocked within you. 

Stretching his thumb up to strum your clit, he tried to sneak a third finger inside of you as he felt your walls begin to flutter around him. 

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” as he always did in every manner, evidently. A smile curved at his lips as your eyes fluttered closed and a symphony of moans flowed out of you with every last tender stroke he offered you to carry you over the edge, “atta girl.”

Melted against the sheets, you caught your breath as he planted one last peck on your inner thigh before standing back up. 

Slowly, with his gaze ever glued on you, he unbuttoned his shirt, gradually revealing the silver shine of the dog tags that hung from his neck and the tattoos that sprawled across his skin. Going all the way up from the hand still shiny with your essence, the ink swirled up his right arm, across his pecs, down his back and even curved over to his left shoulder and intentionally tangled into the gnarly scares sprouting from the border of his prosthetic. 

When the button-up hit the floor, his fingers drifted down to unhurriedly remove his belt, pulling it out of the loops, he let it join the shirt before he undid his pants and let his cock spring free. 

“Jesus christ…” your jaw couldn’t help but drop to the floor as your eyes fluttered at the intimidating reveal. 

Noticing the anxiety that peeked through your lust-ridden expression, his low voice found your ears, “what? Did you change your mind?” 

“No, I just–…” you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his fat cock as it throbbed before you, “I got a bit nervous all of a sudden.” 

“No reason to be nervous, baby,” he breathed out a smile as his fist curled around his girth.  

“Oh really?” you nearly began to laugh. 

“You’ll be fine,” drool threatened to escape the corner of your lips as he slowly began to stroke himself, “trust me.” 

“Really? Because I’m not so sure I’ll be able to take that…” 

“You will,” he uttered calmly as he dipped down to give you a kiss, “don’t worry,” a hand slid into your hair as he cradled your face and ushered your gaze to find his, “you know I’d never hurt you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’ll be fine,” his thumb curved to sweep over your cheek a few times. 

“Yeah,” you gently nodded and repeated after him, “I’ll be fine.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled. Kissing you once more, he then pressed a peck to your forehead before his grasp found your hips and he suddenly flipped you around, onto your stomach. 

Helping you up onto your hands and knees, a hazy smile stretched across your features as he bent down over you and pressed kisses all along your spine. Dragging his bulbous tip through your sopping folds, he then teased you for so long, never granting you any more than a dizzying nudge, that whines began to escape from you.

“P-please,” you heard yourself beg as your fingers bunched up the sheets. 

“What?” he continued to flick and tap your swollen clit with the head of his heavy cock.

“I–I want it–, plea–, please fuck me,” you blubbered desperately. 

“Oh, now you want it, huh?” you could hear the smirk that dominated his face, “suddenly not so nervous anymore about me stretching you out, are you?”

“Bucky, plea–, o-oh–,” you felt your limbs tremble beneath you as he slipped the very tip inside. 

His efforts were so slow at first, gradually giving you more of his length and just shallowly fucking you till you blossomed and opened up for him. 

Gradually, his thrusts began to ease from a mind-numbingly slow pace to something that truly scrambled your brain. You soon lost yourself completely to the molten sensation of his fat girth steadily splitting you open. 

Though when he finally bottomed out within you, a shrill gasp slipped out passed your lips and your frame shuttered beneath him. 

Drawing his hips back just enough for you to regain the ability to fill your lungs with oxygen once more, you heard him murmur in your ear, “what, is it too much dick for you?” retraining his thrusts slightly, he kept his tip from kissing your cervix, “that better or is it still too deep for you?” his hands dented your hips.

“N-no, no, it feels so good, it’s just–,” a whimper slipped out of you and broke up your slurring, “you’re so fucking big, I’ve never–,” you felt like you could feel him all the way up in your throat, “no one’s ever been that fucking deep before.”

One of his hands curved down to your clit at the exact same time as your own did. As they met, he let your own fingers swirl over your puffy pearl as his simply lingered, till he suddenly grasped your wrist and gently led it away from your pussy, further up to your lower stomach. 

“That deep?” he pressed down on your palm and let you discover the dull bulge that formed in your belly at every one of his dizzying thrusts, “has no one ever stuffed you that full before? Not even one of your pretty toys you play with so often?”

“Nuh-uh,” you panted as his warm contact dissipated from your spine and he straightened back up. 

A gravelly moan slipped out past Bucky’s lips as he glanced down to see how tightly your creamy pussy was gripping onto his cock. Your fingers returned to the sheets as his wide palm came down to slap your ass, your back arching at the impact and consequently angling his efforts so that the details of his dick brushed against your g-spot in the most heavenly way imaginable. 

He only buried himself inside of you a few more times, his heavy sack tapping against your buzzing clit at every electric buck, till your pussy gushed around his fat girth. 

“There you go,” he pulled out only to insistently flick your puffy pearl with his tip, “fucking hell,” he then plunged his cock all the way back in before dragging it back out, “keep going,” ushering more squirt to drizzle out. He kept up the overwhelming pattern till your pussy stopped gushing for him, till he’d pushed you through the overstimulation and your cunt slowly began to relax again for him. Eventually, when he steadily withdrew from you, he craned his neck to relish in the way your little hole had stretched out and accommodated so well for him, it even winking sinfully at him every time he pulled out, “good fucking girl,” he growled at the sight, “told you so, you’d do just fine,” your shaky frame jolted as he slapped your ass again, “look at you now fucking gaping for me, christ…”

With a ring of your cream staining the base of his cock, he let himself return to your warmth for longer than just a few seconds, fucking you with such ferocity that your pliant form, still molten and unsteady from your second orgasm, collapsed onto the mattress below. 

Though he successfully caught you before you could slip off his cock entirely, he still let you drop down on the bed, though softened the fall for you, before he followed suit. 

The weight of him on top of you felt so comforting and soothed on your tingly skin.

“You okay?” he kissed your cheek before spreading your stocking-clad legs with his own. 

“Hm,” you nodded foggily and felt yourself drool onto the sheets as he squished you further into the mattress.

Your shaky moans filled the bedroom as he slid back inside, “fuck, you feel so good…” sloppily nipping just below your ear before he picked up his pace. 

The chain that dangled from his neck felt cool on your skin and acted as a stark contrast to how hot his body felt pressed against your back. 

“You think you can be a good girl and cum for me again?” he groaned into your ear as his efforts echoed sloppily, “let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze around me one last time?”

“I-I don’t know,” you trembled beneath him, every one of his deep thrusts making you jolt and gasp for air as he was practically splitting you in half. 

“You don’t know?” he sweetly whispered in your ear as he curled his arms under you. One hand slid under your tit and caught your pebbly nipple in a rude pinch while the other soared down to your sore and swollen clit, “can you try for me? Try and cum again,” your eyes had fallen completely shut, so your whole reality had just become Bucky’s reassuring weight, his tantalising efforts, and his sinful whispers that seeped directly into your soul, “try and squirt for me one last time, sweetheart.” 

And so, you did. It didn’t even take that long before you tumbled over one last time and your pussy creamed for him, drenching the already damp sheets beneath you, as he swiftly came as well, throbbing deep within your clenching cunt and filling your little hole up to the brim till it tried to leak and escape around his girth.

His heavy pants faded from your ear as he slowly crawled off of you, cascading a tender trail of kisses all the way down your body till he gently retraced his track of pecks and settled down next to you. Fluttering your eyes open as his palm slid up to your heated cheek, he gazed into your hazy eyes for a moment before leaning in to softly press his lips to your own. 

You wanted to curl in closer to his frame, but your body was so exhausted that you could barely raise your pinkie finger. Fortunately though, as you layed there in wordless wonder, Bucky’s arms draped around you as he scooted in close, hugging you to him and gently caressing your skin as you continued to blink back into his ocean eyes, not uttering a word out of fear that you’d ruin the blissful moment.

After perhaps a small eternity had passed, he briefly raised his head up slightly to catch sight of the small clock on your bedside table. 

“There’s still a few more hours left before the sunrise…” he settled back down beside you.

“Oh, yeah?” a soft smile tilted up your lips as his touch began to travel south. 

“Yeah,” his lips gently parted in a silent moan as his fingers slid through your sore folds. His stare was transfixed on how your brows knitted together and a quiet hiss slipped out of you as he swirled over your sensitivity, playing with the hot load he’d pumped into you as it slowly leaked out, one of his digits too brash not to try and stuff it back inside, “what do you think?” sharing your breath, he inched in and let his nose nuzzle against your own, “do you want me to be yours just a little bit longer or would you rather I’d return to my own bed?” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[whetstonefires]

You know what I realize that people underestimate with Pride & Prejudice is the strategic importance of Jane.

Because like, I recently saw Charlotte and Elizabeth contrasted as the former being pragmatic and the latter holding out for a love match, because she's younger and prettier and thinks she can afford it, and that is very much not what's happening.

The Charlotte take is correct, but the Elizabeth is all wrong. Lizzie doesn't insist on a love match. That's serendipitous and rather unexpected. She wants, exactly as Mr. Bennet says, someone she can respect. Contempt won't do. Mr. Bennet puts it in weirdly sexist terms like he's trying to avoid acknowledging what he did to himself by marrying a self-absorbed idiot, but it's still true. That's what Elizabeth is shooting for: a marriage that won't make her unhappy.

She's grown up watching how miserable her parents make one another; she's not willing to sign up for a lifetime of being bitter and lonely in her own home.

I think she is very aware, in refusing Mr. Collins, that it's reasonably unlikely that anyone she actually respects is going to want her, with her few accomplishments and her lack of property. That she is turning down security and the chance keep the house she grew up in, and all she gets in return may be spinsterhood.

But, crucially, she has absolute faith in Jane.

The bit about teaching Jane's daughters to embroider badly? That's a joke, but it's also a serious potential life plan. Jane is the best creature in the world, and a beauty; there's no chance at all she won't get married to someone worthwhile.

(Bingley mucks this up by breaking Jane's heart, but her prospects remain reasonable if their mother would lay off!)

And if Elizabeth can't replicate that feat, then there's also no doubt in her mind that Jane will let her live in her house as a dependent as long as she likes, and never let it be made shameful or awful to be that impoverished spinster aunt. It will be okay never to be married at all, because she has her sister, whom she trusts absolutely to succeed and to protect her.

And if something eventually happens to Jane's family and they can't keep her anymore, she can throw herself upon the mercy of the Gardeners, who have money and like her very much, and are likewise good people. She has a support network--not a perfect or impregnable one, but it exists. It gives her realistic options.

Spinsterhood was a very dangerous choice; there are reasons you would go to considerable lengths not to risk it.

But Elizabeth has Jane, and her pride, and an understanding of what marrying someone who will make you miserable costs.

That's part of the thesis of the book, I would say! Recurring Austen thought. How important it is not to marry someone who will make you, specifically, unhappy.

She would rather be a dependent of people she likes and trusts than of someone she doesn't, even if the latter is formally considered more secure; she would rather live in a happy, reasonable household as an extra than be the mistress of her own home, but that home is full of Mr. Collins and her mother.

This is a calculation she's making consciously! She's not counting on a better marriage coming along. She just feels the most likely bad outcome from refusing Mr. Collins is still much better than the certain outcome of accepting him. Which is being stuck with Mr. Collins forever.

Elizabeth is also being pragmatic. Austen also endorses her choice, for the person she is and the concerns she has. She's just picking different trade-offs than Charlotte.

Elizabeth's flaw is not in her own priorities; she doesn't make a reckless choice and get lucky. But in being unable to accept that Charlotte's are different, and it doesn't mean there's anything wrong with Charlotte.

Because realistically, when your marriage is your whole family and career forever, and you only get to pick the ones that offer themselves to you, when you are legally bound to the status of dependent, you're always going to be making some trade-offs.

😂 Even the unrealistically ideal dream scenario of wealthy handsome clever ethical Mr. Darcy still asks you to undergo personal growth, accommodate someone else's communication style, and eat a little crow.

[atrologynuances]

Astrology observations pt2 || Planets in their detriment

NOTE: the interpretation of these are solely on the planets. harmonious/inharmonious aspects can change the translation of these planets.

these are based on personal observations as well as acquired knowledge from books, websites, and other observation posts.

𓋼𓍊 Aries/Scorpio Venus- may struggle maintaining a harmonious relationship which can lead to them changing their relationships quite often. aries venuses might posses an either fiery or more grounded energy thanks to the cardinal energy. scorpios on the other hand might be emotionally reserved, and only truly love very few people around them if any, the rest they keep around depending on what they can access from them (very manipulative). Given their possible relationship insecurities these two venus signs will seek for someone going at the same pace and someone with the same mindset, which realistically is hard to find. when they do think they’ve found it, they might later find out they were in fact wrong. When they do get in a relationship they might become possessive as a result of possible insecurities.

𓋼𓍊 Taurus/Libra Mars- these natives might need extreme motivation to get things going, like a 9-5 they don’t like, but the security and responsibility of it keeps them on their toes. these mars signs could also lack sense of security in their actions, which could leave them wondering whether they were right or wrong and as a result they might not fight for themselves as hard as they should. it is important for them to have a big support system that reassures and validates their actions when conflicts arise.

𓋼𓍊 Gemini/Virgo Jupiter- these natives have a hard time seeing beyond logic explanation, they could experience something and until they don’t find logic behind it they won’t be satisfied. get fixated on many things but never seems to finish or find a final answer to any of them. is not that they’re unable to finish them, they’re just no longer interested to. closed minded towards otherworldly subjects, or tries very hard to understand it.

𓋼𓍊 Cancer/Leo Saturn- these natives lack discipline but want it. they might vent to you that they do not like their current monetary situation and are looking to make some changes in that aspect of their life, but the next day you see them spending all their money on clothes. they know this is wrong but will still do it. they may be prone to control people and situations because they think they know what’s best for everyone. however, they do not like people telling them what to do lol. they might be prone to burnouts easily and immune system problems.

𓋼𓍊 Sagittarius/Pisces Mercury- struggles to find something that feels “right” for them, when they do find it they mostly have to work harder than everybody else to catch up. problems with communication; either started talking late or have problems expressing themselves as they get older. prone to saying things that don’t make sense upfront which will make them have to explain themselves often. this might create insecurities that will lead them to express themselves less. this is the reason why I think so many great writers have these placements, they can just erase and reword their writing without being judged for it.

- fyodor dostoevsky, jane austen, james joyce, victor hugo, emily dickinson

𓋼𓍊 Capricorn Moon- find it difficult to be vulnerable, this translates to needing or wanting material security to make sure they won’t need anyone. do not like to rely on anyone for emotional/financial support even if they really need it. despite all this, they are very emotional. the difference between them and their sister sign cancer is that they are not expressive with their emotions or act on them. something I have noticed is that they are not as workaholics as people might expect them to be, however when they work, they splurge on the money they make or might be stingy with it, as either one of these actions brings security to them. most of the times they don’t feel loved by either one of their parents even if they’ve both always been present in their lives.

𓋼𓍊 Aquarius Sun- natives are hard to describe for me because I have not met many of them, I feel like most hideaway at home lol. one thing i’ve noticed is that they cry a lot and are unapologetic about it. these people shine bright like their sister sign leo, the difference is they don’t want to so they avoid situations where they have to or when they are put in these situations they have to make sure their presentation is flawless. however in day to day life they do not really care how they’re perceived. they’re the ones that go to school in pijama pants. they also oftentimes seek some form of validation with other people, which is why they change partners often. very physically beautiful, but doesn’t seem to know or act on it.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope y’all have a wonderful day.

guide

[fanficgirl429]

Being there for Mike

Prompt: Your boyfriend, Mike receives a notice that his Aunt Jane wants custody of Abby. You're there to comfort and support him.

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Reader

---

The slam of your front door pulls you from your sleep and you slowly open your eyes to see your boyfriend staring down at you. He’s wearing his favorite dark jeans, a gray shirt, and his signature black jacket. His short hair has a slight curl in it and stubble is covering his face. To say he looked attractive was an understatement. 

“Hey,” he says, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the hooks next to the front door. 

“Hi babe.”

He walks over to the couch, where you're currently laying and gently taps your foot. You lift your feet up, making room for him on the couch. He sits down and then pulls your legs on top of his, giving them a gentle squeeze. Mike was not an affectant person by any means but there were little gestures that he would do that would make your heart skip a beat. 

It was then that you noticed how defeated and tired he looked. It looked as if he hadn’t slept at all last night. 

“Are you ok?’ you ask, concern in your voice. 

Mike raises his hips from the couch and pulls out a large rolled up envelope from his back pocket. Without saying a word, he reaches across the couch and hands it to you. You give him a questioning look but he doesn’t say a word. Whatever is in here, has caused him major concern. 

The envelope is filled with yellow paper, creating a small booklet. The very first page says everything you need to know. 

“What the fuck?” you say, outraged. “What makes her think that she can get custody of Abby?” You skim through all of the paper but there is a lot of information. Hopefully he was able to make more sense of it. 

Mike lets out a sigh as you hand him back the paper and envelope. “She only wants Abby for money from the state.”

You move across the couch and sit down next to your boyfriend. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean against his chest, wrapping your arm around his waist. 

He instantly relaxes and his breathing becomes more steady. When it came to his younger sister, Abby, he would easily get worked up. He wanted nothing but the best for her. 

“Whatever you need me to do, I will,” you reassure him. 

“Come with me to the meeting tomorrow,” he says. 

You nod and hug him tighter. 

——

Mike's Aunt Jane has it out for him. She is carrying on about how Mike is unfit to care for Abby and how she will do a better job. She even goes a far as saying that he is nodding out at the meeting. 

He barely slept at all last night. You could feel him tossing and turning most of the night before getting out of bed around 5am. As you laid in bed this morning, you could hear him pacing back and forth in the living room. 

His leg moves up and down while he sits and listens to her talk. You reach over to grab his hand, lacing your fingers with his. He squeezes your hand as Abby’s guidance counselor glances over at the two of you. She gives you a small smile before returning her eyes to Jane. 

When Jane is finally finished rambling, the guidance counselor concludes the meeting, telling Jane that she will be in touch. 

You and Mike thank the counselor for the meeting and you stand up and follow him out of the door into the front office. You make to turn left towards the school's front door but Mike turns right and begins to walk down the school's hallway. He stops for a moment and waits for you to catch up. His fingers lace with yours as he comes to a stop outside a classroom. He peaks through the window before opening the door, revealing an empty classroom. 

“This is Abby’s classroom,” he tells you, walking over the window. 

The large window overlooks the playground and you see Abby sitting at the picnic table drawing while the other kids are playing all around her. 

“She never plays with the other kids,” Mike comments with a sadness in his voice. 

You shrug. “She seems to be doing ok,” you reassure him. “If she wanted to play with the others she would. She’s told me about some friends she has here.” 

The door to the classroom opens and Abby’s guidance counselor walks in. She smiles as she walks over to the two of you. 

“I was wondering if I would find you here,” she says. 

She follows your gaze out the window and looks at Abby. 

“You’re doing a good job, you know?” she tells Mike. 

“Thanks,” Mike says, running his fingers through his hair. 

“How are you doing Mike?” she asks. 

Mike shrugs. “I’m ok,” he tells her. 

“We’re going to do whatever we can to make sure that Abby stays with you, you know that right? Have you found a job yet?”

“Not yet. But I’m working on it.”

“That’s step number one.”

The counselor squeezes Mike's shoulder before turning to leave the room.  

“Ready to go?” you ask him and he nods. 

He leads you out the door and down the hallway towards the front of the school. 

~~~

Mike closes the door to Abby’s room and walks into the living room. His gray sweatpants hang loose off his hips and his black t shirt shows off his frame. A blush forms on your cheeks and you turn away not wanting Mike to see. 

Although the two of you had been dating for almost two years now, Mike still made you blush. What had started out as a stupid crush years earlier, had turned into the best thing that had ever happened to you. You loved Mike and couldn’t imagine your life without him. 

Mike notices how your cheeks turned a slight shade of red but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to call you out and embarrass you. Instead he walks over to where you are sitting on the couch and stands in front of you. He reaches his hand out and you place your hand in his. He gently pulls you up and wraps his around your waist, giving you a tight hug. You pull him against you, not wanting him to let go anytime soon. Hugs from Mike were your favorite thing. 

“Thanks for coming with me today,” he says. 

“Of course. You know I’m always here for you and Abby.” 

“I guess I need to start looking for a job.”

You nod. “Yea. And maybe try not to get fired,” you tease him. 

He shakes his head but a smile crosses his lips. He has a hard time getting mad at you. You might pick on him but it was always in good fun- every now and then he would tease you as well. 

“I hate you,” he teases. 

You let out a loud laugh and then instantly cover your mouth, forgetting that Abby was asleep. “You actually love me,” you say, looking up at him.

“I might,” he says, laughing.

He leans down and presses his lips against yours, kissing you slowly. 

[just-your-average-tangerine]

I think the hardest part of being trans is the uncertainty.

Like, there's a new band I kind of like. They've only released a few songs, but I like those songs, and I like the bands style, so I followed them on Instagram to keep up with them. Neither member of the band is openly queer but many of their (young) fans talk about how their dynamic and their music fits with a popular gay ship. The band has really leaned into it and made content to appeal to that, so I feel confident in assuming they're decently gay friendly, at least. But said popular ship is from Harry Potter, so I don't feel at all confident that they're trans friendly. They haven't said or done anything specifically transphobic, but they haven't specifically said anything in support of trans people either. So it creates that uncertainty. Am I safe in this fan space? Am I wanted? Will I be accepted?

Even in queer spaces, it's the same story. I've been in queer spaces that claimed to be trans friendly. They have name tags and pronoun stickers and pins available to everyone, a trans flag on the wall. But most of the staff won't try to use the correct pronouns. And trans men aren't welcome in the queer men's group they run. And when they invite a group to do free haircuts, they won't cut trans men's hair because they "don't do women's haircuts."

It's like, I can go to pride with a trans flag and five different he/him buttons pinned to my chest, and I'll still get misgendered to my face.

Every time you want to be a part of something, you have to ask yourself

-do they accept trans people

-if so, is that acceptance limited and conditional

-do they accept trans people as a part of the group or do they allow trans people to be there but not a part of it, is it a "you can tag along but you're not one of us" situation. A "trans people can join but gay trans men are not "real" gay men and trans lesbians are not "real" lesbians" situation.

Every fucking thing is uncertain.

The tweet has long been deleted, but years ago, Laura Jane Grace tweeted something to the effect of 'do you think I don't know that everyone I admire would hate me'. And that it. That's the shape of it. You just have to live with the idea that there's a good chance anyone you look up to, would hate you.

And that eats at you.

It really does.

[amuseoffyre]

I was watching the bts videos yesterday including the making of the opening credits and Mr. Anderson said “We added plaques to the back of chairs and Neil chose who to honour on them”.

He’s referring to the chairs we briefly see in the theatre where Aziraphale is doing his magic act:

Left to right: A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen and The Crow Road by Iain Banks.

I want to focus on these three in a row specifically because Neil chose to put those books there in that order and I had something of an epiphany last night about it all when insomnia was chewing on my toes.

These three books have also been mentioned out loud in the show in episode 2 when Gabriel is reorganising the shelves:

“It was the day my grandmother exploded” - The Crow Road

“It is a truth universally acknowledged-” - Pride and Prejudice

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” - A Tale of Two Cities

For those unfamiliar with the books, I’ll do a quick potted summary of each, with a focus on why I think they’re relevant and especially why the order of the chairs in the theatre feels relevant.

A Tale of Two Cities

Set during the French revolution with one lead who is an aristocrat who has stepped away from his class and background to support the less fortunate than himself because he disagrees with the way they did things. Also, he changed his name because he doesn’t want to be associated with the place where he came from.

The big culmination of the books is when said man is betrayed and set to be executed, but his friend takes his place. There is very literally a body swap by someone who looks very like him in order to save his life. This body-swap is done out of love.

aka - season 1.

Pride and Prejudice

Two people from very different class backgrounds have a very very bumpy start to their relationship because of misinterpretation, miscommunication and a lot of external pressure put on them by the rules of their respective societies. Both of them have different information and because of that, both of them are seeing exactly the same situation very differently. One of them tries to express his affection, but does it so badly that the other tells him there is no chance she will join him.

aka - season 2

The Crow Road

A young man tries to solve a mystery of someone’s disappearance using only the papers they left behind, with said young man’s background rooted in faith and belief in a higher power. There’s also a secondary plot about emotional growth into a more mature and more fulfilling relationship.

(And wouldn’t you know it, it’s the book handed to Muriel by Crowley, who tells them they’ll like it, and the Metatron comments on it)

aka - season 3

Needless to say, I am quite excited :)

[merakiui]

the birds and the bees.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight dub-con, implied stalking, age gap (riddle is 19 and reader is 29) note - you're hired to teach riddle about the birds and the bees. you need the money. he needs to get laid.

The Rosehearts’s Residence looks about how you expected it to after driving past houses of similar size and grandeur. Unlike you, they’re definitely not strapped for cash. It’s an impressive structure with its elegant wrought iron gates and expertly trimmed hedges. You’re immediately overcome with bitter jealousy when you step through the entrance, passing rose bushes in full bloom. If only your apartment could look and feel as nice as this place. You almost wonder if you should keep Mrs. Rosehearts’s contact in case she ever needs a gardener or a window washer…

But then that risks your cover, and the last thing you want is to get tangled up in trouble with the upper middle class.

Gathering your courage, you smooth invisible wrinkles in your pencil skirt, steady your balance in your Mary Janes—both at socially acceptable lengths and heights—and bring your fist down against the door. Seconds after the third knock, it opens to reveal a woman who looks as prim and proper as the landscape of her home. She takes a long moment, drinking in your formal features, and then smiles approvingly.

“Ah, (Name), you’re early.”

You soften your face into something polite and demure. “Better early than late.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You meander into the foyer and are instantly reminded of those exquisite house tours on MagiTube. There’s a fine layer of modest Victorian wealth to the decor. Flowery wallpaper, a lofty ceiling, an aureate chandelier, a vase filled with fresh tulips of all colors… Oh, how you wish you could live here!

“Your home is beautiful,” you comment as you straighten your bow headband.

“Why, thank you.” Her eyes light up once more. “I’ve always admired this neighborhood. Everything is so well-kept. Speaking of which, where did you say you’re from?”

“Oh, I’m actually getting ready to move back to school at the end of the summer,” you explain, narrowly dodging her question. No way I’m telling her I live in a not-so-affluent neighborhood… She’ll totally kick me out. “I’m staying with my parents in the meantime and working a few jobs to support myself.”

“And what was it you’re studying again?”

You paste a hollow smile on, sensing her distrust. I already told you this when we met at the clinic. Do I really seem so suspicious?

“I’m studying to be an ob-gyn.”

“A wonderful profession,” she praises, nodding to herself. “Very wonderful indeed. And how old are you? I merely ask to confirm. There are so many miscreants nowadays. You can never be too sure.”

“I understand completely, Mrs. Rosehearts. I’m—” you almost falter, your real age on the tip of your tongue— “twenty-two. What about your son? You told me he’s also looking to get into the medical field?”

“Not looking. He will pursue medicine,” she corrects sternly. “Just like his mother.”

You swallow your disgust and try not to let it show so openly. Yikes… Talk about controlling.

Mrs. Rosehearts waves you onwards down the hall. “My Riddle will be leaving for his first year of college at the end of August. Though I’m certain he’s more than prepared, it never hurts to review.”

“Absolutely. So you’d like me to give him the talk?”

“Not just that. I’d like you to teach him well enough so that copulation and any other libidinous ideas are the last things on his mind. Stamp them out if you must. He’s to focus on his studies and make good decisions just as I raised him.”

Shouldn’t he already be familiar with this? Besides, he’s not a kid. Of course he’s going to think about sex. Most of us do when we’re horny.

But you can’t say that outright, so you settle for something vastly different.

“It’s important to stay on the right path and be responsible.”

Mrs. Rosehearts nods her agreement. Your stomach twists in discomfort.

On second thought, I don’t want to be upper middle class if these are the people I have to deal with. Is this guy going to have any chance to be social? To live his life? To make and learn from stupid mistakes? I bet he can’t wait to get out of here and go off to school.

“I apologize if this is rude in any way, but I just want to ensure I’ll be paid accordingly.”

“Of course. Good work must always be recognized and rewarded.” She stops at a door. “I cannot thank you enough for lending my Riddle your time. Teach him well.”

“I’ll do just that. You can count on it.”

Pleased with the level of maturity you’ve displayed, she raps her knuckles against the door and calls out, “Riddle, the tutor’s here.”

“Very well, Mother. I’ve just finished today’s readings, so you can send them in,” comes a muffled reply.

Today’s readings? you think, perplexed. Your gaze slides from the door to Mrs. Rosehearts. Does she have this guy doing summer school? That must suck! What a shitty way to spend your summer, cooped up inside filling out workbooks and stuff.

“I’ll be out running errands in the meantime. I trust you’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Perfectly all right,” you assure her, to which she hums and strides past you. You catch her perfume as she departs, and it reminds you of the types of scents worn by saggy, old ladies who have nothing better to do than sit around and complain about the state of the world and the way their children turned out.

In other words, a scent you associate with misery.

You wait until she’s out of sight before opening the door and stepping inside the study. There’s a mahogany desk in the center, and thick textbooks are piled high on either side. Beyond that, beside a big bay window with cream-colored curtains drawn to let in the sun, two large bookcases are packed with an array of tomes. At the front of the room, a blackboard has been built into a wooden frame. Chalk lines the ledge, situated within reach of an eraser. And sitting at the desk, his eyes glued to an open book, is a young man. A pair of round frames sit on the bridge of his nose, slipping ever so slightly down the slope of it when he peers at the page. He pushes them up when he finally lifts his head to greet you.

“Hey.” You wave awkwardly, easing the door shut.

He seems taken aback by your appearance. “Oh, yes. Right. Hello…”

Silence soon fills the space. You wonder if you should just save yourself this nonsensical waste of time and retreat.

“Sooo.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking on your heels. “Your mother’s probably told you why I’m here.”

“I’m aware.” He shuts his book and stands from his seat. “My name is Riddle Rosehearts. A pleasure to meet you.”

You blink at his outstretched arm. “(Name). Likewise.” You grab his hand and shake firmly. 

So stiff…

“So where’re we starting? The basics? You want the whole ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ version or—”

Riddle scoffs and yanks his arm back. “I’m not a fool. I’ll have you know I’m well aware of sexual reproduction and what it entails.”

“You can call it sex. No one’s forcing you to be all biological,” you tease. His body goes rigid, and his face reddens in what you assume is flustered annoyance. “Anyways, since you’re not as brainless as Mother Dearest wants me to assume, I’ll just get into it.”

Riddle stares at you, his arms folding over his chest. He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he huffs and lowers into his chair.

Wordlessly, you undo the buttons on your blazer and shrug out of it. Your blouse goes next, untucked from your skirt and shucked. Riddle’s eyes are so wide they nearly pop out of his skull when he spies the white, lacy false collar that just barely covers your breasts. You’re about to step out of your pencil skirt next when Riddle clears his throat.

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No?”

“I’m teaching you the birds and the bees.”

“N-Not in that outfit! S-Surely not…” He averts his eyes, crimson crawling up to his ears. “You’re practically nude!”

“That’s the point of lingerie, silly.” Your skirt pools around your ankles to reveal the rest of your frilly ensemble. A black-and-white cupless bra and crotchless panties set, both with plenty of ruffles, held together with a pair of garters. Still wearing matching stockings and your precious Mary Janes, you bend down to gather your discarded clothes. They’re set aside on a nearby chair. “You can look.”

“A-Absolutely not!” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y-You… You’re not decent. It’s rude to stare.”

“Come on. You got past anatomy diagrams just fine.”

Riddle opens and closes his mouth, speechless like a beached fish. Eventually, he manages to gather his coherency. “You’re a tutor, aren’t you? Where’s your dignity?”

“Nonexistent. I lied.” His head snaps over to view you, and he seems so scandalized by your admission that it’s almost comedic. “No way I’m studying to be an ob-gyn. I’m not even in school.”

“What?! But you—”

“It’s fine. I looked the part, didn’t I?” you joke, waving your hand about dismissively. “C’mon, mama’s boy. You’re going off to college. It’s nothing like those stuffy anatomy courses.”

Riddle tries and fails to look at anywhere that isn’t you, his eyes lingering on your chest to the space between your legs to the thigh garter and then to the ceiling. He’s so red you think he might explode.

“You’ve been with a girl before, yeah?”

With lips pursed in a tight line, he shakes his head.

“Sounds about right.”

“And you’re so experienced?”

You flash him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, mama’s boy.”

“I’m not a mama’s boy!”

“No? So you just let your mother treat you like a little baby at your grown age? You let her pick out sex tutors for you?”

“I—” He stops himself from speaking to mull over your questions. “If it’s what she deems necessary…”

“Because our biggest fear is sexually awkward you knocking up some girl at school, right?”

“I… I would never! Safe sex is—”

“Very important when you’re not trying to conceive. Good boy. See? You know your stuff.”

Riddle’s eyes narrow into vicious slits. You brush his scorching vitriol off and turn towards the board. Procuring a piece of chalk, you scrawl words on it: Birds and Bees 101. Wholly unamused, Riddle folds his arms across his chest.

“Your mother told me you’re gonna study medicine, so you’re probably familiar with everything already. And I’m sure you know all about the baby-making process on a biological level.” You whirl to face him, your tits bouncing with the peppy motion. Riddle swallows thickly. “But just to make sure… Let’s review.”

“R-Review? You don’t mean—”

“What’s this?” Your hands close around your tits. Riddle’s enchanted with the way you squeeze them—the way they depress under your fingers.

“Um… Ahem. Well… T-The breasts. They’re a type of glandular organ located on a woman’s chest, and they’re made up of lots of tissue and fat. There’s the mammary gland—that’s what produces milk. Oh, and then there are the areolas right around the nipples. Those are—”

“You can call them what they are.”

Riddle blinks, shaken from his studious spiel. “W-What?”

“You know the word, mama’s boy.”

He flusters. “Yes, I’m aware. But…”

“No harm in saying it.” You run your fingers over your nipples and giggle sweetly like a schoolgirl. “Go on…”

He inhales a deep breath. “They’re tits,” he mumbles, desultory. “Y-Your tits.”

You clap, beaming brightly. “Well done! Moving swiftly on…” You run your hands down the expanse of your stomach, stopping just beneath your navel. “What’s here?”

“Your womb. O-Otherwise known as the uterus. It’s where a baby grows over the course of nine months.”

“Mhm. Good job.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “There’s more to your reproductive system than the uterus. Lots of parts. Important parts.”

“Right. But I don’t need to quiz you on it. You obviously know your stuff.”

Again, your fingers inch lower until they’re prodding at your folds. Riddle’s breath audibly hitches.

“And this?”

“Your vagina. It’s where—”

“What’s the other word?”

Riddle avoids your stare. “It sounds so vulgar…”

“So what?”

“S-So there ought to be a term that’s more…flattering.”

“Like what?” You approach him and, with the grace of a swan, lift your leg onto the desk to give him a better view of yourself. Shamelessly, you dip your fingers inside to spread yourself. “A guy called it the honeypot once. That pretty enough for you?”

Riddle squeaks and flinches back in his chair, his face now even redder than it was before. “T-That’s fine…”

“Really? I’d have thought the implication in that one is much dirtier than calling it a pussy.”

It takes him a moment to connect the dots, but once he does he gasps. “Ah. Then…”

You press inwards with your fingers, exaggerating a pornographic sigh. “Yeah?”

“Can I… M-May I call it your flower?”

“Sure.” His shoulders slacken with a flicker of relief. Your next words shatter that and his pride in one fell swoop. “That one’s not as special as you think, mama’s boy. I’ve heard it all—every type of flower you can think of.”

“Even a rose?”

“Especially a rose.” His lips twist into a disappointed moue. You chuckle and add, “You can call it a rose if you want. I don’t mind.”

Riddle meets your eyes then, searching them for the joke. When one doesn’t present itself, he relaxes. “All right. It’s a very pretty rose. Soft…”

“Aww. Thanks for saying so. It’s softer inside, y’know. See?” Spreading yourself wider, you angle your hips to bless him with the full view. “My fingers slide right in. Wanna guess why?”

“B-Because the vagina naturally—” He stops himself, his brows knitting together in contemplation. When he speaks next, it’s with a determined sort of conviction. “When you’re aroused, your rose produces a natural lubricant during sexual excitement.”

“Mhm. We call that ‘feeling good and getting wet,’ Dr. Rosehearts.”

“Yes. Y-Yes, I know that.” He eyes your pussy, a ravenous glimmer in his intelligent blue-greys. “And the wetness—it’s supposed to make it feel better. To make insertion easier, I mean.”

“Right again.” You ease your fingers out but not before thrusting them deeper just so he can hear the sinful sounds. They shimmer with your essence, enticing in a forbidden way. “What about the other parts? How about this spot here?” You brush against the hood of your clit, circling it slowly.

Riddle watches, hopelessly spellbound. “The clitoris.”

“I’m impressed. Most guys don’t know about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But it’s your most sensitive erogenous zone! Just how uninformed does one have to be to neglect such a crucial part to your sexual anatomy?”

“Woefully uninformed, I’m afraid,” you mutter with a pout. Your fingertips drag your hood up to reveal that pretty, perky nub. “I think it’s dumb your mother wants me to talk you out of sex. You’re going to college. You’re an adult. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I…” Riddle frowns at that last line. “I have no interest in it. Besides, it’ll only hinder my studies. If I really need it, I’ll just masturbate. That’s healthy every now and then, and it doesn’t break any rules.”

“Really? No interest at all?” You shoot him a knowing look and run your tongue along your bottom lip. “Because your dick’s telling a different story.”

Riddle sputters, embarrassed, and squeezes his thighs together. His hands fly to cover his lap. “That’s because you’re—” He gazes at the floor. “Because you’re so pretty…”

Temporarily thrown off course, you gape at him. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Gathering the remnants of your mask, you piece it together and laugh. “Not the first time I’ve heard someone describe it like that.”

“Not just your pussy.” Your gaze snaps to his. He smiles, impish. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Teacher.”

You exhale a short laugh. “Someone’s suddenly confident.”

Riddle rises from his seat. His fingers close around your wrist, gently pulling it away from your clit. He moves around the desk to stand in front of you and then, before you can comprehend his intentions, he’s pushing you down onto the desk. You yelp at the sudden change in position, your eyes blown wide when he presses his clothed hard-on against your bare pussy.

“You’re doing a poor job at dissuading me from wanting sex.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“Not in that outfit.” He grabs at the meat of your thighs and parts them. “If Mother knew you lied to her…”

You shake your head at him. “Please don’t tell her. I… I’m being serious. I need this money.”

“Desperately?”

Your lip curls into the beginning of a sneer. You hate feeling powerless more than anything, but the fiery glaze in his eyes is just as troubling. “I’m not going to beg.”

“I haven’t asked for that yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Not funny. I agreed to teach you about sex. We’re not actually doing it.”

“A shame.”

“You’ll find a nice girl at school. Don’t lose hope, mama’s boy. Lots of girls like the smart types who’ll give ’em a lecture on biology and stuff.”

“I think you misunderstand. I don’t want other girls.”

“Okay?”

“My mother’s paying for a tutor and I desire you, so unless you want to leave here as a lying cheat…” He hums, seeming awfully haughty to hold the only thing that tethers you to him above your head. “You need the money, right?”

“Yes. Sure, of course I do. But—” You shift on the desk, silently horrified when he rocks against you. “We can’t. Your mother—”

“Weren’t you the one saying I should live my life? That I have the freedom to do as I please?”

“That doesn’t mean—come on; listen to yourself. You can’t honestly think I’d fuck you.”

“No? And yet you came wearing this outfit, parading around the study with your pussy and tits out.” He glances past you at the window. “And you didn’t even bother to close the curtains… How brazen.”

Your attempt to jerk away from him is made in vain. He pins you down onto the desk, one hand squeezing your breast, while the other works to fish himself from his trousers. Now hard and leaking, his cock rests against your stomach. It’s not a terrible size. If anything, it’s perfect. Just right for your tastes.

“W-Wait! It’s not safe. You can’t—” You inhale sharply, bucking up towards his hand when he presses his thumb against your clit. Biting your lip, you fix him with a glower. “If you pay me… If you promise not to tell your mother—”

Riddle leans in close. “No one needs to know. No one but us.”

Your eyes flit about the room. With a withering sigh, you submit to his touch. “You’d better pull out in time.”

Riddle rolls his hips once and his cock drags along your folds. You hiss through your teeth at this new friction, a sinful delight more dizzying than any type of alcohol consumed in excess. “Do you want to be a mother?”

“What I want has nothing to do with you. I’m just—ooh—t-trying to survive. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, so don’t poke fun.”

Riddle hums, kneading your breast and rubbing you to the edge all at once. It’s so very obviously his first time, his zealous nature trumping any sort of experienced technique. It still does the trick, though, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“My mother wouldn’t just choose anyone. Her standards are very high.” His eyes flick to your face, drinking in your expression as it shifts with restrained bliss. “Somehow you’ve earned her approval.”

“Lying’ll do that.”

“Maybe.” His fingers replicate the motions you did earlier, though with a singular objective in mind. He’s so focused on succeeding in this endeavor that it makes him look so stiff. Under any other circumstances, you’d find it cute. “Mother always knows what’s best for me. Obviously you’ve met her criteria if she’s hired you.”

“Spoken like a true mama’s boy.” Seeing as this is now your unavoidable fate, you reach up to touch his shoulders. He jolts, his initial glare softening. You tamp down another giggle and massage up and along his arms. “Relax a little. Don’t rush so much.”

Or do. Let’s get this over with before your mother catches us.

Riddle traces two fingers along your labia. He’s quiet as he takes all of you in, and when he sinks three fingers into your gooey heat his breath catches in his throat. “Are you… D-Do you feel good?”

You reach for his unoccupied hand and guide it to your clit. Riddle understands the suggestion well enough, for he massages you slowly. Sucking in another breath, you nod at him.

“Not bad. You’re getting there.”

His neglected cock throbs at the praise, and so you wrap your fingers around it to give it the same amount of attention he’s currently giving you. Riddle grits his teeth at the contact.

“You can move your fingers. Don’t just focus on my clit.”

“Ah. Right. Of course,” he babbles dumbly, so swept up in everything that you are, so very eager to please.

You’re like a work of art pinned to his desk, a delicacy more forbidden than anything from the bakery. Sugary-sweet, adorned in skimpy ruche, you’re a temptation laid bare. Delicately, as if you might shatter, he curls his fingers to press up against your insides. Riddle watches you arch up towards him, your hand working his cock maddeningly slow and steady. It feels good—better than anything he could have ever imagined.

His eyes trail from your lips to your tits to your pussy stretched around his fingers. “Do you have any plans for this summer?”

The sudden question catches you off guard. You were expecting something related to sex, not whatever this new shred of curiosity is. Still, that doesn’t stop you from dragging him closer to the edge of ecstasy with every tug of your fist.

“Why?”

“I… I’d like to get to know you.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You’re more than a body to me.”

“How charming. I just—” You frown, unable to follow where he’s going with this. “Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Even though he says it like it’s a fact, he looks shy. “I want to know you.”

“Uh… Yeah… Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not that… It’s just hard to imagine you having any girl friends.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and grinds his thumb into your clit. You bite back a whine as his fingers pump in and out of you. “Is that space open or closed?”

“You know which one.”

“You could be the one to close it.”

You meet his eyes then. For a short minute, the two of you hold each other’s stare. And then, breaking free from his hypnotic hold, you squeeze his length gently. He shudders, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“And what about you? You excited for your first year?”

“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, rutting into your hand. His fingers spread you open, scissoring gently.

“Just make sure to take time for yourself. Have fun. Live.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were at school—how’d you manage?”

“I never went.” He opens his mouth to interject, but you beat him to it. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh…”

“It’s fine! I’ve got plenty of experience in other things. I don’t need school for that.”

Riddle doesn’t believe your feigned optimism for a second. “If you could’ve gone, what would you have studied?”

You release his cock from your hold and reach up to pull his glasses from his face. Gingerly, minding the fragile frames, you set them aside. You lift your index to your lips, effortlessly coy. “It’s a secret.”

Before he can protest, you tap the hand at your cunt next. Riddle’s fingers, wet and shiny, slide out with a slick squelch. “I think you can do it.”

“What?”

“Go to school and study what you want. I believe in you.”

A wooden laugh tumbles from your lips. “Thanks for the encouragement, mama’s boy.”

“I have a name, you know.”

You smile easily. “You want me to call you something else? How does ‘good boy’ sound?”

Even though he tries not to let it show, his cock betrays his reticence with a small twitch. He’s an open book. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction, he lines himself up instead. Your fingers slip down to spread yourself for him.

“S-Slowly…” you whisper, stumbling over your breath as the head of his cock presses inside. Shallow at first before more inches fill you.

Riddle heaves a shaky gasp, his eyes wide with amazement. “I… I’m inside you…”

“How’s it feel?” “Warm. Soft. Snug. R-Really good.” He bows his head and digs his fingers into your hips. You think he has a dozen more adjectives on the tip of his tongue, each one just as fluffy as the last. “D-Do you feel good? It doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m fine.” You wind your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your hands come to rest upon his shoulders once more. “Move your hips.”

Riddle does just that. His pace is awkward and inexperienced, every motion unsteady and jerky, as he searches for the right rhythm. He falls into it surprisingly fast, and it isn’t long until he’s smoothly rutting into you. You grab at his shirt, your breath coming in reedy huffs.

“Good. You—haa—good. You’re doing good.” Praise pours from your lips like a waterfall, plentiful and refreshing. It invigorates him, fills him with a confidence that wasn’t there before.

The soft slap of skin on skin fills the room. You keep your voice in check, lest you lose yourself and alert Mrs. Rosehearts. Riddle seems to be doing the same, even though it’s obvious he’s struggling much more than you are. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress his groans.

“You can touch me,” you whisper, petting his cheek. He blinks at you, his face aflame with a bright blush.

Nervously, he reaches for you and then pauses. Contemplation passes over his features. “What feels better? I want you to—no. I will make sure you cum. I’ve studied it, actually. I know how long it takes.”

“Look at you, doing your research like a diligent student. You want extra credit?”

Riddle chuckles and pinches your clit between two fingers. The rest of your teasing tapers off into a lewd squeal. “What was that about extra credit?”

“You’re awfully bold for your first time.”

“I’m not clueless.” His hips press inwards, plastering you to the desk, and his cock brushes that special spot within—the spot that has you seeing stars, your every nerve tingling with pleasure. You choke around a delighted gasp. Riddle, feeling victorious,  places his hand against your stomach, as if searching to feel his cock thrust up inside you. “Will I see you again after this?”

“If your mother wants me to come back and give you another pointless lecture on celibacy and safe sex, sure.”

“No, not that. Outside of this.”

“Don’t you have friends you’d rather hang out with?”

“I…do.”

“So spend time with them.”

Riddle doesn’t dignify that with a retort. With the way his eyes gloss over, you wonder just how many of these friends are within physical distance. The conversation stalls out into silence.

“You’ll make lots of friends at school. So many you’ll probably forget all about me.”

Riddle yanks your hips to meet his, driving himself deeper into your pussy.

“A-And you’ll find a nice girl to love if you’re looking for that kinda thing.”

“I am,” he confesses, breathless. “I want to get married and—mmh—start a family one day… I want to study law—become a lawyer… Mother thinks medicine suits me, but I can’t agree. Law is fascinating. It’s a perfect fit for me. Far better than medicine.”

You drag your thumb over your mouth, wetting it with your lipgloss, and then press it to his lips. The indirect kiss sends a tidal wave of arousal over him, darkening the tips of his ears in striking vermillion. You offer him a gentle smile while he recovers from that devastating flirt.

“I’ll make sure to hire you as my lawyer if I ever get into legal trouble.”

“You’d better not!” He laughs and shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But if you do, I’ll be there for you. Always.”

“Thanks, Riddle.”

Maybe I judged him too harshly. He’s not so bad.

In that stuffy study, just as the late afternoon gives way to red-orange streaked across a purple-pink sky, Riddle fucks you against that desk in all manner of rhythms. It’s when he finally picks up speed that you realize he’s nearing his end. You mirror his enjoyment, strung along by titillating touches and whispered words drenched in sweetness. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve reached rapture alongside him, your pussy now brimming with cum. There’s so much it leaks out of your slick hole when he draws away, only to burrow his cock deeper to stuff it back inside.

The room reeks of sweat and sex. You think, if not your disheveled appearance, the smell will definitely tell Mrs. Rosehearts all she needs to know.

“I love you,” Riddle murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what he means—maybe he’s caught up in the moment and doesn’t realize what he’s saying—but then he lifts your legs up to fold you into a mating press. Coherent thoughts are knocked out of your head when he spills over, filling you up for the nth time that day. You shiver beneath him, eyes rolled back into your skull and tongue lolling out. You feel so stupid, fucked submissive by some inexperienced, upper middle class mama’s boy. Which isn’t even an insult with real heat to it, but in your hazy mind it’s all you can think of to describe him.

He grinds against you in the aftermath, panting from the exhilaration and adrenaline. 

“We need to…open the window,” you mutter, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

Riddle admires your fucked-out expression in his sex-drunk daze. He slides out just as he feels himself going flaccid. Cum drips onto the desk below. Briefly, you struggle to recall whether or not you took your birth control today.

Something to consider later. Definitely not right now when you’re still clinging to the vestiges of your orgasm.

— — —

Mrs. Rosehearts knocks on the door, opening it to find Riddle sitting at his desk, jotting notes and occasionally pushing his glasses up. You’re standing at the blackboard, writing a list of the consequences of unplanned pregnancies. The room smells pleasantly of roses.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

You gaze at her and smile, wearing the clothes you arrived in. Nothing’s amiss. It’s perfect—thankfully. “Welcome back, Mrs. Rosehearts. We’re just about finished here.”

“Is that right? I assume all went well?”

“Very well. Your son’s a fast learner. Extremely talented.”

“I would expect nothing less.” She withdraws an envelope and hands it to you. “Thank you again for explaining it in realistic terms. Of course I doubt that my Riddle will act senselessly while he’s away, but as his mother I’m prone to worrying. Boys his age are so easily influenced.”

“O-Of course! That’s a very valid concern.” You force a chuckle.

If only she knew.

“Your pay is in that envelope. Should I ever require your assistance again, I’ll be sure to call.”

“Right… Thank you.” You hold it close to your chest. “I’m happy to help.”

You follow her out the door. She pauses to address Riddle. “Do continue reviewing your notes. We’ll convene for dinner in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Mrs. Rosehearts walks you to the gate. “I wish you luck in your studies. If I don’t see you again at the clinic, have a pleasant summer.”

“Thank you. You as well.” You smile, fidgeting slightly. A bead of sweat tracks a path down your leg from between cum-spattered thighs.

Finally! With this I can pay my rent and still have enough for a treat from the bakery.

It’s worth it, or so you continue to tell yourself.

— — —

From the window, Riddle watches you make the walk to your car. He lifts his phone to fit you in the camera and snaps a secret photo. He continues to watch you until you’ve driven off and turned the corner, disappearing from his sight.

A tiny smile tugs at his lips.

Within his phone, put under a password lock, a special photo album exists. It’s filled with pictures taken from your social media—all of them. Every. Single. One. He’s resourceful when he wants to be. He can play the parody of a tech genius when he sets his sights on something.

And you’re just perfect.

[thatbitchery]

& ladies remember outside your leveling up circles if anyone asks you eat at the drive thru, it's burger & fries, you prefer sweatpants and spend your time watching Turkish Thai dramas and your sexual orientation is pretty kpop boys. Your goal in life is to get married and stay at home and your hobbies are flip flops and watching gmmtv, you're the most basic average Jane there is out there you just dress up because mom makes you. What have we said about keeping your competition feeling safe? In competitive environments so school and office and your local communities and especially your family you're couch potato potato so you're not available because new series just dropped- do you want to cause unnecessary friction? Keep your level up to yourself and your level up groups people are herds herds herds with that crabby crabba crab mentality so any sign you could leave the herd behind is a trigger to Crabb crabbb crabby pull you back into the bucket. Human beings are animals before they are people when will you understand this? Why would you scream in the face of a tiger? Do you want to get bullied? What happened to moving in silence.

Keep your workouts out of social media and your trips to the dermatologist to yourself, your paycheck is between you and your bank and stay away from the brands unless everyone in your group is wearing them so brands are just the average. Why would you sabotage yourself like that? Why would you go telling anyone your goals? Do you want to get laughed at? Haven't you learned your lesson? Hasn't your mother, your own mom, judged you for wanting to be better? Even though you're not in competition? Then why would you tell Betty from HR when it's literally the most competitive environment out there? Do you want to ostracize yourself? Then don't create drifts with your herd and level up in the shadows, when your current friends see you eating healthier its omg lol why? Then the answer is actually I took a blood test, autoimmune diseases are around the corner you don't know how badly I need McDonald's rn but life first. You're dressing elegant lately- girl stop my mom is insufferable she's making me these conservatives please. You look nicer- I'm on birth control, I had that acne issue. I feel the weight creeping up lol. You're taking more classes? Gosh yes there's this scholarship thing I need so you know. Your posture is better lately- baby girl stop my back was on fire last week leave me alone I was dying like- it's never because you're bettering yourself. Never. Ever. As long as they're concerned couch potato potati potata average Janey.

Human societies are competitive in nature especially among women because resources are so scarce and we know this and herd mentality makes us detest people that place themselves in positions to have better access to these so once you start getting better its underhanded compliments and what's app groups and side glances as you walk, learn to keep people comfortable and do you in the background, don't buy into whatever self soothing we are all good people bs you're being sold, we are only as supportive as you're below us once you start doing better your own sister and best friend have a lot to say. Move in silence & keep your life away from public view and have believable excuses for what you can't always hide & find a way to say you're better than me. Why cause unnecessary friction?

[anghraine]

Ok, I've been thinking about this question a lot and there's not enough evidence in P&P to fully support any answer, but I wanted to hear yours: What is the Gardiners' economic status/How rich are the Gardiners?

Obviously, Mr. Gardiner is a tradesman, but I'm desperately curious to know the extent of his wealth. Does he have a similar income to Mr. Bennet but is just more frugal? Would he have been able to take in his niece(s)/sister when Mr. Bennet died? Does he have Bingley-level tradesman wealth without the massive lump sum Bingley inherited from his father? Darcy assumes that Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are gentry - but like, Bennet gentry or Woodhouse gentry or Lucas gentry. JANE SKIMPED ON THE GARDINER INFORMATION AND NOW WE'LL NEVER KNOW. So what are your headcanons surrounding the Gardiners' wealth?

Really, the most important Gardiner headcanon that the Gardiner children are immediately charmed by Darcy and think he's like ~the coolest~

thanks queen <3

Six months later: hi!

My opinion is that the Gardiners are very well-off in terms of the usual incomes of the gentry. It's difficult to pin down an exact income range because I'm not a historian or economist, but the literary evidence is pretty suggestive IMO.

For one, Mr Bennet has no trouble believing that Mr Gardiner could have shelled out ten thousand pounds for Lydia; the problem is the struggle of repaying him, as Mr Bennet would feel morally obligated to do. The impression I get is that this would be a lot of money for Mr Gardiner to come up with, but everyone accepts that he could quickly do it, where Mr Bennet could not. And Mrs Gardiner does insist that Mr Gardiner would have paid the money if Darcy had let him, which again suggests that it was reasonably doable for him.

When Elizabeth and Jane first pass the news to Mrs Bennet and try to express the debt of gratitude they all owe Mr Gardiner, Mrs Bennet's response is a bitter remark about how if her brother had not married and had children of his own, "I and my children must have had all his money, you know; and it is the first time we have ever had anything from him except a few presents."

Aside from what this reveals about her character (especially given the remarkable understatement of "a few presents" given everything they've done for Jane and Elizabeth), I think "all his money" suggests an awareness that there would have been quite a bit to inherit if Mr Gardiner hadn't had the temerity to, uh, have children.

The summer tourism journey also doesn't seem to represent a severe expense for the Gardiners, though it would be outside the realm of possibility for some. They're not super frugal, but they're also not going to pull a Sir William Lucas and abandon the source of their income, or take an estate or something to distance themselves from trade, and end up unable to provide security for their children or any significant luxuries for their loved ones and themselves. So the Gardiners do make practical decisions like living near Mr Gardiner's warehouses and continuing his business in town.

Darcy (in Elizabeth's opinion) mistakes the Gardiners for "people of fashion" rather than gentry per se. This is interesting because Darcy originally considered the entire Meryton neighborhood, including the local gentry, as people noticeably not of fashion. This concept of people of fashion is typically more about fashionable high society than trade vs gentry IMO.

For instance, Mr Hurst is described as "a man of more fashion than fortune"—i.e. someone with high society credentials from his family, but not a lot of money, though he has enough to maintain a house in Grosvenor Street. (I think the implication is that the Hursts considered their status and Louisa Bingley's 20,000 l. from trade a fair exchange.) So likely, Darcy is not confusing the Gardiners for minor rural gentry, but even higher-status people if Elizabeth is analyzing his reaction correctly, based on their appearance, apparel, demeanor, etc.

This is definitely a time when wealthy people in trade could pass for people of fashion, but I think it would ordinarily take some doing, and though the Gardiners are stylish and relatively young, they aren't trying hard in the way that the Bingleys are. Yet Darcy, who went on a whole tangent about trade cooties during his proposal, can't even identify the Gardiners as people in trade upon meeting them—that's important.

(It's also significant, of course, that he's surprised to discover their exact connection aka that they're Mrs Bennet's relatives, which is honestly pretty fair. In any case, he evaluates Mr and Mrs Gardiner on their own considerable merits by this point.)

So again, I get the sense that the Gardiners are quite well-off people who spend their money on nice enough things that they can be mistaken for a completely different class than their own, but are not specifically aiming for that or super extravagant, either. Their habits seem rather similar to Darcy's, actually—I don't think they're anywhere near as wealthy, but they're wealthy enough that they can approach major expenditures fairly casually, as he does. But unlike Darcy, it will always be contingent on Mr Gardiner's business success and they have to plan around his work and the possibility of sudden changes in terms of his work.

I personally think that Mr Gardiner would undoubtedly have been able to take care of his sister and nieces in the worst case scenario. Six women used to a high standard of living (we know Mrs Bennet is extravagant; it's only Mr Bennet's frugality that keeps the Bennets out of debt as it is) would probably be a strain, but I don't think beyond the income level indicated, even accounting for the needs of his immediate family.

When Mrs Bennet is dramatizing herself during the Lydia disaster, she tells Mr Gardiner, "if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what we shall do," and he assures her of his affection for both her and her entire family. This could be seen as a sort of empty redirection that avoids promising anything, especially given that her catastrophizing fantasy scenarios are extremely unlikely, but I think that's a misread of his character.

I see his reply as a tactful assurance that, in the (improbable) event of Mr Bennet dying in a duel, his affection for her and her daughters would indeed ensure his protection of her and her daughters. There's no doubt from anyone that he's capable of doing this, though it would certainly mean a change in their style of living that Mrs Bennet would vocally resent.

So while this isn't super-specific, I hope it helped!

Normally I don't need to do this, but I would like to add a sort of credit/disclaimer: I didn't initially notice all these signs and my understanding of the Gardiners' standard of living and general circumstances was, I believe, strongly influenced by JulieW of the Life and Times board at Republic of Pemberley back in the earlyish 2000s (maybe about 2006?).

The L&T board is sadly gone (or was the last few times I checked), though ROP clings to life, but she knew a lot more about Georgian history and culture than I ever will, and these references to the Gardiners' prosperity seemed really glaring once she pointed them out.

(Her analysis of Pemberley's age, architecture, and general class significance was also really influential and I'm still really sad that I have to rely on the perfidy of memory about it.)

[lee-laurent]

June Bug - Trevor Zegras

Summary: June keeps a big secret. Trevor wonders why June Hughes stopped talking to him.

content: pregnancy, mentions of unsafe sex, angst, casual relationships, arguing, premature birth, fluff

wc: 3.5k

notes: cliche ahhhhh plot, but i've had this written for like a year. finally finished it and decided why not add it to the blog

"Are you doing okay, dear?" Ellen asked, watching as her daughter struggled to isit up on the lounge chair.

"Yes, Mama. Just trying to get comfortable," June sighed, setting her book down on her baby bump.

"Well, the boys should be home soon with your snacks. Just call me for dad if you need anything."

"Thanks, Mama," Jane gaver her mom a tight-lipped grin. She knew her parents were still a bit disappointed in her for falling pregnant at 22, but they were there for her nonetheless. She was hoping once the baby came, their relationship would start to go back to the way it was.

"JUNE BUG! We've got your pickles!" Luke shouted, sliding open the door to the patio. June groaned, pushing herself up on her elbows. She smiled up at her younger brother, tilting her head towards the table next to her. Luke laughed, placing the jar of pickles down for her.

"How's baby Hughes treating you?"

"He likes to kick me in the ribs and make me have to pee every fifteen minutes."

"Sounds like a blast. Just so ya know, Jack actually told me and Q that's proud of you."

"That's nice of him. But I'd appreciate it if he said it to my face. Oh, and didn't pretend that I'm not 7 months pregnant."

"You've still got me and Quinnifer. And Mom and Dad. Mom's been shopping for baby clothes. She's excited to have you at home again."

"She wouldn't have to live at home if she'd just tell the baby daddy," Quinn commented, joining his siblings in the backyard.

"Quinn-"

"It's fine, Lukey. He's just telling the truth. But I can't ruin his career like that. He's got a lot going for him right now. Plus, Mom siad I don't have to do anything that I don't want to."

"I know, Mom. But it's her fault that I can't even invite him here. He's gonna think we hate him or something," Jack loudly complained to his mom.

"Jack, just tell him that it's a family only vacation. It's going to be his way until June figures out what she wants. We shouldn't stress her out right now. It's not good for her or the baby."

"But Mom," Jack whined.

"Jack Rowden Hughes. That's enough. Go spend time with your siblings."

Jack shook his head, stomping up to his room. He slammed the door and called back his best friend.

"Mom says it's a family only vacation."

"Why? It's not like she's losing June this year. Isn't she moving back in with your parents?"

"Yeah, it's hard to explain. I'll see you when Cole and I come to visit."

"Okay, I'll talk to you later. Bye, man."

"Bye, Z."

"Please stop kicking Mama. She's trying to relax," June muttered to her stomach, rubbing a hand over where her baby decided to continuously kick her. The baby didn't listen, kicking even harder. "You're just like your dad, huh? You never listen."

June's pregnancy so far had gone fairly smoothly. But as soon as she hit the seven month mark, the baby decided that she needed to be sitting down or sleeping at all times. If she wasn't sitting, she was puking or feeling lightheaded. She had had to convince Ellen to let her come to the lake house. She wasn't allowed on the boat and spent most of her time lounging on the back patio with a book. She felt bad as Jim and Ellen had forbidden the boys from bringing any friends over this year, since June hadn't announched her pregnancy to anyone except her family and her best friend. She still hadn't told anyone the story of how she ended up pregnant, but her family was aware of who the father was. Her oldest and youngest brother were supportive, albeit a bit angry with the dad. Her twin, however, was pissed with her and not the dad.

"June, dear! Oh my goodness, are you okay?" Ellen exclaimed, listening as her daughter threw up for the tenth time that morning.

"Mama, I messed up."

"Junie, what's wrong? You know you can tell me anything."

"I-I'm pregnant."

Ellen was silent for a few seconds, before she noticed her daughter was sobbing. She quickly wrapped her into a tight hug, rocking her back and forth.

"Oh, June. It's going to be okay. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

June shook her head, burying her face in her mom's neck.

"Does the dad know?"

June shook her head again.

"Is it someone at your school? I'm sure if he's in California, we can still get ahold of him."

"It's Trevor, Mom."

"Trevor? As in Trevor Zegras?"

"Yes," June squeaked out before she started sobbings again.

"It's going to be okay, love. Everything will be fine."

June stood in front of her three brothers. Jim and Ellen had wrangled them into the living room, promising to be there for June in case anything went wrong.

"What's going on, June Bug?" Quinn asked, flashing her a small smile.

"June has some exciting news."

"You're moving to Jersey?!" Luke exclaimed.

"No, Luke. I- um, I'm pregnant."

"You're what?!"

"June!"

Jack remained silent.

"Who did this to you? Huh? I'll beat the shit out of him," Quinn threatened.

"You'll be doing no such thing. He- he doesn't know. And I'll be keeping it that way."

"Who? Who's the dad?" Jack finally spoke up.

"Um..." June turned to her parents for reassurance. Ellen gave her a nod. "It's Trevor."

"Zegras?! You slept with Zegras?!" Jack shouted. "There's no fucking way! I told you to stay away from my friends, June! But you didn't listen, did you? And now look where you've got yourself. God, you're such a dumb slut, June."

June placed a hand over her mouth, tears threatening to spill.

"Jack! Do not speak to your sister like that!" Jim's voice boomed, pulling the attention off June and onto their very angry father. "We are going to support June in her decisions. If June wants to keep this a secret, then we will all be keeping it a secret. Is that a understood?"

"Yes, Dad," Quinn and Luke mumbled. Jack, however, shook his head and disappeared to his room.

Jack's solution to this problem was just pretending that it never happened. He acted as if June wasn't pregnant, because to him that was the easiest thing to do. Although he wouldn't lie and say that he wasn't beyond pissed when he found that June was moving back in with their parents in Michigan instead of going back to California to even attempt to get support from Trevor. Keep the secret from his best friend was killing him, but he knew that his parents would actually kill him if he did let it slip. Because everything revolved around June now.

Trevor was blissfully unaware of everything happening in the Hughes' family world. Sure, he was confused as to why he couldn't come to the lake house. And he was confused why he hadn't heard from June in months, especially because he thought that maybe they liked each other. They spent almost every day together while she was at school in California, but one day she went home to see her parents and she didn't come back. He'd reached out a few times, but received radio silence and gave up. And when Jack told him she wouldn't be returning to school after the summer break, he was left alone with no idea what happened to the girl he liked.

"Can I buy him a Devils jersey?" Luke smiled, placing a hand on his sister's stomach.

"No, he'll be a Canucks supporter," Quinn retorted,

"He'll be staying far away from hockey, thank you very much," June sneered, moving her brother's hand to where her son continued to kick.

"Damn, Baby Hughes can kick!"

"Yeah? Imagine that while you're trying to sleep," June laughed.

"No wonder you're always so grouchy," Quinn joked.

"Now, if you two are done bothering me, Baby Hughes wants pickles."

"This is like your third jar of pickles since we got here."

"Shh. The baby gets what baby wants."

"That's actually so gross," Luke cringed as June ate half a pickle spear in one bite.

"Mmm. It's so good. You just don't get it, Lukey."

"Nasty," Luke walked back off into the house.

"Quinn! Come play pool!" Jack shouted from inside.

"Call me if you need anything, Junie. Hope your pickles are as good as you imagined."

"Thanks, Quinn. Love you," June smiled.

"Love you too, June Bug."

June lay in bed, scrolling through her social media. All her friends were on vacation, drinking cocktails, and taking hot bikini pics. She was in bed, drinking water, wearing her brothers' clothes because they were the only non-maternity clothes she had that still fit. She was just about to turn off her phone and attempt to sleep, when a notification popped up on her screen.

Hey, June. Jack said you're for sure staying in Michigan with your parents this year. I was wondering if you wanted to come visit when Jack came. You know, see you one last time.

Fuck. Trevor had stopped reaching out months ago. Why did he decide to text her now? She was considering blocking his number, but morally that felt wrong. She was already hiding his son from him, blocking him just felt even worse. Even just thinking about what she was keeping from him made her feel sick. Even if it was her body, it was his kid too. It takes two to tango. Suddenly she felt bile climb up her throat, juimping from the bed, running down the hall to the bathroom she shared with her brothers.

She held her hair back with one hand, her other clutching the toilet bowl. She couldn't tell if it was the baby not liking her dinner or her guilt of not telling Trevor, but everything felt wrong in that moment. She began to cry, not just from the vomiting but the stress that receiving that text had on her.

"Fuck. Are you okay, June?" Quinn asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. June didn't answer, just sobbing harder. "Junie. Shh. Is Baby Hughes doing alright?"

June nodded.

"Then what's going on, June? Was it dinner? I noticed dinners havent been sitting well with you."

"It- It's Trevor."

"What about Trevor? What did he do? I'll kick his ass."

"He didn't do anything, Quinn. It's me. Why didn't I tell him? What's he going to think when he sees me with a baby in a couple months? I have to tell him. Do you think he's still awake? I should call him."

"Woah, June. Calm down. You're not thinking rationally right now."

"No, Quinn. I need to tell him."

"June-"

"You're not listening!"

"Shh. You're gonna wake up Mom and Dad."

"I-"

"June, baby, what's wrong?" Ellen asked from the doorway.

"She wants to call Trevor and tell him," Quinn replied.

"Oh, Junie. If you're sure that's what you want, go give him a call. Should I tell Jack?"

June shook her head, "Only after I talk to Trevor."

June sat with her phone propped on her desk in front of her. She sat so that her bump was hidden from the camera.

One. Two... Three. She clicked the FaceTime button. It only rang three times before Trevor's face took up her screen.

"Holy shit. Hey, June. Long time no see," he smiled.

"We need to talk."

"Woah. Okay? What's going on, Bug?"

"I- um, you remember last time we hung out?"

"Yeah, of course I do. Jamie was out, we had the place to ourselves. I-"

"I'm pregnant."

"Wh-what? Is this a joke?"

"No. Look," she stood up, fitting her swollen stomach into frame.

"There's- I... How?"

"We didn't use protection? I don't know. That's usually how that happens."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was going to, I-"

"That was seven months ago! You're seven months pregnant? And you didn't think to tell me? Jack didn't think to tell me?!"

"Don't," June gulped, "Don't blame, Jack. I- I kept him from saying anything

"I'm getting the next flight out."

"What?! No! No! Don't do that! Trevor!"

"June, don't you dare tell me what to do! I... We need to talk in person. Figure this out."

"Trevor," she sobbed, shaking her head.

"Too late June. I'll see you in the morning."

"Trev-" he hung up. "FUCK!"

June sat the island in the kitchen, her leg bouncing violently. Trevor was supposed to arrive any minute and she just wanted the world to open up and swallow her whole.

"Stress isn't good for you or the baby," Ellen sighed, making her daughter a smoothie.

"Luke, can you get me more pickles?"

Luke grabbed the half empty jar from the fridge, sliding it across the counter to his sister. Without taking her eyes off the door, she bit into one. Praying that Trevor had changed his mind. Praying that he wasn't about to walk through that door. Praying that-

Knock. Knock! KNOCK!!

Jack opened the door and a very disheveled looking Trevor walked in immediately. His eyes met June's and she started to cry, dropping her pickle back into the jar. He wasn't even sure what to say. What do you say to the mother of your child when you didn't even know she was pregnant until a few hours before?

"Trev," her voice wavered, tears falling down her cheeks.

"It's okay, Junie. Shh, you're okay," Quinn whispered, rubbing her back.

Trevor just scoffed, dropping his duffle bag on the floor. He made his way into the kitchen, standing across from June. He had fury in his eyes and it made her shake even more.

"How could you keep this from me, June?!"

"I... I didn't want to ruin your career, Trevor. I didn't want us to be a burden. Something else for you to worry about," she sobbed.

"I deserved to know! It's my baby too! I-" he pulled at the roots of his hair, "I can't fucking believe you. You've done some stupid shit, June. But this... this takes the fucking cake. How... how far along are you?"

"30 weeks. I-"

"30 weeks. You've kept my child a secret from me for 30 weeks?"

"I- I didn't know until I was a month and a half. I was going to tell you and then..."

"Then what? You decided you wanted to be my saviour? I didn't fuck need that! I needed the girl that I fell in love with to-"

"You love me?"

"That's not the point, June! Oh my fucking God!"

"Let's all calm down, please," Quinn sighed.

"I-" June was cut off by a sharp inhale. She gripped her stomach and the room fell silent.

"What's wrong, Bug?" Luke asked worriedly.

"It hurts! Mama, it hurts so much," she wailed. Another sharp pain and she felt liquid trickle down her leg.

"Shit! Look what you fucking caused, Trevor!" Quinn snapped, helping his sister off the stool she was sat on.

"My hospital bag isn't here," she sobbed, "It's too early! He can't come yet!"

"We have time to get your bag, love. If your water just broke they'll just send you home. You won't be dilated enough for them to do anything," Ellen tried her best to mediate the situation.

"It's too early! He isn't supposed to come yet! He can't! I'm not ready!"

"June, you need to calm down. Let's get you on the couch," Jim offered.

Trevor was in shock. He had just found out he was going to be a father and now the baby was coming. He had caused so much stress that his son was being born a month and a half early. God, he wasn't ready to be a father. But June needed him right now, so he'd have to man up.

"I need new pants," June cried, allowing her brothers to move her to the sofa.

"Luke, go get your sister some sweatpants."

"On it."

"Trevor sit with June. And don't argue anymore, we don't need this baby coming out in the house."

"Okay."

Trevor cautiously sat on the cushion that June wasn't laying on. He placed her feet on his lap, rubbing gingerly at her shins. She narrowed her eyes at him, but stopped when the pain started again. His eyes widened and he gave her a hand to hold while her body tensed.

"Are you sure it's too early to go to the hospital, Ellen?" Trevor asked.

"They'll just send her home, Trevor. They aren't going to waste a bed on someone that'll be there for at least 24 hours."

"24 hours?!" June gasped, "I can't do this for 24 hours!"

"At least 24 hours," Jack pointed out, getting a stern look from his parents.

"Let's try walking around, Junie. That'll help speed up the process... according to Google," Trevor offered. Luke and Quinn had left to drive home and get the hospital bag. Jim and Ellen were trying to give the couple some space. And Jack, well... Jack was sitting on a chair facing the couch, judging every little move Trevor and his sister made.

"But it hurts."

"I know, June. But if we want our baby to come then we should try moving around."

"I heard sex helps," June offered.

"Hell no!" Jack spoke up, narrowing his eyes at Trevor.

"Let's just try walking," Trevor offered sheepishly.

"Fine."

"We're back!"

"Finally! Can we go now, Mom?"

Ellen nodded, "Why don't you and Trev go? We'll meet you there once you've got a room?"

"Mom..."

"June. You two need to learn to work as a team. Go."

"Fine."

Trevor threw the bag over his shoulder, helping Quinn get the carseat installed correctly. June sat in the passenger seat, texting her best friend updates. She couldn't believe her son was coming already.

"Ready, June?"

"I've been ready," she rolled her eyes, tapping away at her phone.

"Right... let's go then."

The car ride was awkwardly silent except for a few moments where June would gasp from the pain. Once they'd settled into a room, Trevor decided to talk.

"I, uh, I'm sorry for freaking out, June. I just... I'm scared."

"I was scared at first too. I guess I forgot that you were just learning. And going through the same thought process I did. I just... I shouldn't have kept this from you."

"You shouldn't have, but I can forgive you. Especially once I've met our little guy," he smiled.

"Not sure he'll be so little. Nurses said I look like I'm 9 months," she giggled.

"Do you think they'll take him to the special room for babies?"

"The NICU?"

"Yeah, that."

"Depends on how he's looking. But they said he's measuring above average. Maybe him coming early is a blessing to my body."

"Maybe," Trevor laughed.

A nurse knocked at the door, "You ready to push, Mama?"

June nodded, gripping Trevor's hand a little tighter.

"Is he okay?" June asked worriedly, watching as the nurses and doctor placed him down.

"He's fine," Trevor reassured her.

"You've got a 5 pound baby at 30 weeks, Miss Hughes. Quite impressive," the doctor smiled. "He's looking healthy, but we'll just take him to run a few tests. Just to make sure everything is developed alright seeing as he's premature."

"Can I hold him?"

"Of course you can," the nurse grinned, placing the baby on June's chest.

"Trevor, look at him."

"I see him, Junie. I see him," he wiped his eyes, not wanting to cry in front of June.

"He's perfect."

"He is. Just like his mom."

June blushed, handing the baby to Trevor before the nurses took him to run some tests.

"Can we come in?" Quinn asked, knocking on the doorframe.

"Come in," Trevor smiled. He was sitting shirtless in a chair, the baby on his chest. June was fast asleep, light snores leaving her mouth.

"How's Junie doing?" Jack asked, shocking everyone.

"Good. She's good. She, uh, she needed a nap. So Beau and I are chillin."

"Beau?"

"Yeah. Hughes family meet Beau Quintin Zegras."

"Quintin?" Quinn felt his eyes water.

"Yeah. June insisted on it," Trevor chuckled.

"Can I hold him?" Jack was quick to ask, looking Beau in awe.

"Sure. Just wash your hands."

"Okay. Okay."

"Hey, Junie. How're you feeling?" Ellen asked, stroking her daughter's hair.

"Tired. But isn't Beau just the cutest? He got Trevor's blue eyes and I don't think I could possibly love him any more than I do."

"He's adorable, love. The perfect mix of the two of you. How'd the doctors say he's doing?"

"They said he looks like a full term baby," she giggled, "He's big and strong. And figured out how to eat pretty quickly."

Ellen laughed, "Glad to hear it. We're gonna head back to the house soon. I thought maybe you and Trev would head back to the actual house. He don't have a place for Beau to sleep here."

June nodded, letting her mom press a kiss to her forehead, "We're all proud of you, June. So so proud of you."

"Thanks, Mama."

"You ready?" Trevor asked, reaching out to hold June's hand.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Let's do this baby."

"Flight 335 to Anaheim is now boarding!"

[thescarlettbitch]

Devotional Acts

For love or beauty deities

Skin care

Make up (or embrace your natural beauty)

Dress up a little

Paint your nails

Love letters

Self /love/ iykyk

Change your bed sheets/clean up your room/space

Listen to love songs/songs about sex/loving yourself

You know that trend of people, typically women, painting a canvas black and then painting their legs/ass/hands/boobs and making a form of silhouette art for their partners?

Read romance novels

Play Interactive romance novels/romance games (stardew valley, dream daddy, The Arcana, etc)

For war deities

Listen to angry music

Advocate for yourself

Reinforce your boundaries

Cut out the negative people in your life

Feel your anger, recognize your anger, don't force it down, but don't lash out to others. "I am angry. This thing made me angry. It's okay that I am angry, it is not okay to cause harm to those who do not deserve it." Etc etc

Read biographies or accounts of war, or dystopian novels (accounts of war like Night by Elie Weisel, dystopian like Divergent or Hunger Games)

Learn self defense

Learn about how your area was used in past wars.

Play fighting games (call of duty, mortal combat, etc)

For music/art deities

Create! Learn an instrument

Write a song

Paint for them

Listen to experimental or storytelling music. All music is art, so find a vibe for your deity.

Take pictures of nature, art is everywhere in nature, from the paintings on butterfly wings to the sunset

Read/write poetry

Read poetry books, or books about music or art (think biographies from musicians/artists, or books like Guitar Notes by Mary Amato or such) (guitar notes is a midgrade book but it's the only one I could think of the name of)

Visit galleries or local shows, support local artists

For wisdom deities

Read books, any type, but mostly classics like Sherlock Holmes or Jane Austen

Watch documentaries

Take free online courses on subjects that interest you

Visit and support your local libraries and independently owned bookstores

Find old unloved books at thrift stores

Learn a new skill

Listen to music from different time periods

Visit museums

Play strategy games (chess, supreme commander, etc)

Do puzzles

For nature deities

Raise a plant, or a garden

Listen to nature sounds, or music with nature sounds

Observe nature persevering, vines crawling up a building, dandelions in cracks in the pavement.

Read wilderness guides

Learn about your area's native flora and fauna

Visit local parks

Open windows and let the fresh air in

Scavenge/forage (in safe areas)

Play cozy games (animal crossing, etc)

For death deities

Visit local graveyards/cemeteries (don't forget to be mindful and conscious of others and the spirits there)

Listen to music by artists who have passed on, or music about death

Learn about different cultures' funeral practices

Safely move roadkill out of the road, leave a small offering if possible (again, do so SAFELY)

Read books that have death themes (like Edgar Allen Poe, Wuthering Heights, or They Both Die In The End)

Think about how you want your body to be treated in death. Do you want to be buried? Cremated?

For home/hearth deities

Read cozy books

Play cozy games (sims, animal crossing)

Make your house seem warm and inviting to visitors

Learn how to bake, either from scratch or a box, both are acceptable

Learn how to sew or knit or crochet.

Watch cozy movies

Light candles if you don't have a fireplace

Listen to soft music

Visit your friends or family and bring them baked goods

For strong parental deities

Take care of your friends

Make sure your friends eat and are drinking water, do the same for yourself

Tell the people in your life you love them, you're proud of them, they're doing a good job

Read books about found family, self help books

Listen to music that makes you feel safe and loved

Carry a figure that represents them

Take care of yourself the way that they would take care of you.

Cook for yourself. Make yourself feel safe and loved

For health deities

Carry bandaids and Tylenol and extra pads/tampons for people who may need them

Learn about the human body and how it works

Take your meds

Make art out of old pill bottles for them

Know and respect your limits

Watch documentaries about doctors or health sciences

Research holistic remedies and see if any might be of use to you (DO NOT SUBSTITUTE THEM FOR MODERN MEDICINE) be careful of misinformation, and any interactions that certain things might have with your meds

For sea/ocean/water deities

Have a small fountain in your home (you can find them at some dollar stores, or if you're mechanically savvy, make your own)

Salts in your baths

Visit local streams, creeks, rivers, or beaches.

Read about marine life / river life

Read about your local water sources, learn about the water cycle

Collect rain water

Stand in the rain, feel it on you, let it ground you

Listen to music about water/with water sounds/the ocean/the beach

Have pictures in your home/space of the ocean

If you visit the ocean, collect some water and sand and seashells (make sure you follow your own personal gratitude system) to have in your home

Don't fret if you're landlocked, you're practice is valid, you don't need to be at the ocean all the time to feel it's presence. The rain clouds blow in from hundreds of miles away. The ocean is always with you.

Drink water

Carry a small vial of water with you (could be ocean water, river water, or tap water with or without salt in it) you can keep it in your car, in your pocket, or wear it as a necklace

Carry a small vial of salt with you (could be hand harvested from the ocean, table salt, or any kind of off the shelf salt)

For sky/wind/air deities

Let the air in, open windows when possible

Let yourself be free.

Sit outside for a few minutes a day, or longer.

For traveler deities

Pick something up for them on your travels, could be a rock, could be a souvenir

Put a symbol of them in your car

Wear shoes that are good for walking

Drive/walk around to explore new places (you don't even have to leave your town)

Take backroads

Be a (respectful) tourist in every new place that you visit, don't be afraid of looking stupid.

For queer deities

Educate yourself on queer history

Express yourself truthfully

Listen to queer music

Read queer books

Embrace your identity

Read queer poetry, like that of Sappho

Keep yourself safe in spaces that are less open to identities.

Support local queer owned businesses or artists.

Queer art

Love yourself and take care of yourself.

Go to drag shows

Relish in the fact that queerness has been around since the very first civilizations

For Inventive Deities

Do a metal puzzle

Learn metalworking, or just read about it

As always, please feel free to add on, I only work with one deity so please tell me if anything is incorrect or confusing.

Blessed be <3