#Angular 6

[horseshoemybeloved]

Tee hee suitehearts sketch

[gordontv]

the colors on this are so scuffed but GOD is Michael hard to draw

[fablegaze]

scug shipruary day 8 - lagspike

[sigalrm]

Haus 15 und 16 by Pascal Volk Via Flickr: Aufgenommen aus Haus 15.1

[whoviandoodler]

[Image description: a digital drawing of Thomas from Transatlantic holding Varian's hand and kissing his fingers while crying. We only see Thomas's face and their two hands covered in dripping blood. Behind them are black shards with designery red eyes on them. The pieces is coloured in desaturated blues with red accents. End description.]

We all have blood on our hands.

[drill-teeth-art]

Wow! Here’s something incredibly personal.

This is Good Bi Gender. A comic I made to express some feelings I have about my gender. I don’t really have that much else to say about it. Here it is.

[Image Description: A digital comic made with sharp, angular abstract lines and only the colors white, blue, pink, and black. The featured character is all white, except for facial features and hair colors, which changes from panel to panel. The comic reads: Cover Panel: The text "Good Bi Gender", the words colored with the trans flag. It shows a glitchy person's face, half pink and half blue. Panel 1: White text reads: "Hello. My name is apparently irrelevant. And my pronouns are he/him and she/her. But you can't call me she/her. And here's why." Someone with a half-pink and half-blue shirt looks to the side. One eye is covered with hair, and the other eye is pink while the iris is blue.

Panel 2: The character sits happily, imagining facial hair and a masculine voice. "I don't want top surgery. I love my chest. And I dream about being on testosterone someday soon." The character looks at a phone, frowning. The phone shows the male symbol with an "X" through it. Text next to it reads: “People don't seem to think that the features I dream of are very pretty though... Or they think even worse of them than that…”

Panel 3: The character’s features are all pink, and sits in a blank frame. The character reaches over to a blue frame, frowning. “I don't like the animosity. I really despise it.” A photo of the character shows an all-blue frame and blue hair, with pink outlines and facial features. “To be a boy... I aspire to be one. I aspire to be masculine in all its handsomeness. All its prettiness.” Panel 4: The character sits in an all blue panel, but reaches back out to the pink panel. “And I'm still a girl too. I was so excited to have both. To love both. To have handsome femininity. Beautiful masculinity.” The frames break and connect, and pink and blue swirl together. The character smiles in between the frames, with one pink eye and one blue eye. “So excited. And yet I get asked…”

Panel 5: Two hands hold out two different pills to the character, one blue and one pink. They ask “Male? or Female?” using the male and female symbols.The character, facial features an array of pink and blue, looks between the two hands, distressed. “It's both! I'm both! They're not opposites. Not narrow boxes. I say I'm both despite the insistence that I can't be. And I know what I look like. I know I look like a girl to most. I know that if I say people can call me she, that's all I will get from most. Because it's "easier". It "makes more sense". To have my masculinity, I am often forced to be unflinching in it and it alone. To never use she. Because if I don't, I will never get to have he.” [The words "she" and "he" are italicized.] Panel 6: Text reads: “I'm still very happy to be so comfortable in my identity. To know, despite all that, that I am indeed a boy and a girl and both. But you know. Telling people to only use he/him for me. Guarding my masculinity all just to have it. All at the expense of the part of me who is happily and unashamedly a girl.” The character cries from one pink eye, the other hidden. The character holds a pink girl in a sea of blue, the girl crying out. In the midst of the blue, text reads: “Well, it fucking breaks her heart.” End ID]

Edit: @starberry-skies wrote an ID for the comic, so I added it to the og post with its permission!

[pseudowho]

Operation: Babymaker-- Benchpress

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

💜 💛 Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💜 💛 Part 3 LINK HERE: Ditch the Party...again

💜 💛 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💜 💛 Part 5 LINK HERE: Honeytrap/Maid Café

💜 💛 Part 6 LINK HERE: Grapple

Interrupt Kento's workout? Get ready to be manhandled 💛

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink, fertility/infertility discussion, manhandling, full nelson 💛

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"How strong are you, Kento? Really?"

In just his checked pyjama trousers, Nanami Kento still cut an imposing figure. Even though his waist was thick with muscle (though not with heavily defined decorative abs-- just subtle planes under freckled skin), his chest and shoulders broadened out dramatically, his arms thick and veiny, his hands bold and angular.

Kento paused, his coffee halfway to his lips, holding his book open with one hand, before answering; "Strong enough, I should think. Why?"

Just modest, you thought. You looked him slowly up and down, your filthy imagination whirring. You smiled, tucking your legs up under you on the sofa, cupping your tea between two hands.

"No reason."

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You couldn't help yourself from watching.

"One."

A home gym was a blessing for Kento, who neither worked out for enjoyment nor vanity, but purely for the demands of his job.

"Two."

He was away from home enough. And people at the gym stared so much, that Kento's workouts used to feel cloying, claustrophobic, skin prickling with the eyes of thirsty or envious fellow gym-goers.

"Three."

As he pulled himself up again, feeling everything in his body clench with exertion, he did, however, feel one pair of eyes on him.

"Four...why are you hiding in the shadows, hmm?"

You jumped, biting your bottom lip between your teeth. Your mind had been spirited away by thoughts too obscene to say out loud. Thoughts of being restrained. Thoughts of being grappled into submission, pinned, gasping. Thoughts made so easy to have about the man who you knew would never hurt you.

Stepping out from behind the doorframe, your coy demeanour made Kento huff, a short puff of air from his nose, and you watched blatantly as he finished his set. In snug shorts set halfway up his thighs, and a loose drop-sleeved tank top, you reasoned you couldn't be expected to take your eyes off him either.

Kento continued, walking over to the narrow Benchpress bench, beginning to place weights on the bars, one, after another, after another and you felt yourself filled with wicked intent.

"You can't lift that," you scoffed. Kento's jaw clenched, a small smile gracing his lips, as he continued shifting plates. Your words rolled off him, water off a duck's back. The ungoadable man.

"If you think you're going to interrupt me," Kento toned, smooth and reasonable, "you're wrong. I always get my workout done in 45 minutes, and..." he crooked his wrist, checking the time, "...I won't be late for anything."

Kento laid himself back on the narrow seat, no bench left at all on either side of his hips, the wings of his shoulders gaping out over the bench's confines. As the soft fabric of his shorts stretched over his thick thighs, settling over the prominent bulge of his groin, you gulped. Your mouth watered. And as Kento began to lift, with short ragged grunts rumbling from his chest, it all became too much to resist.

Kento's eyes were fixed upwards, hyper focused, feeling the impossibly deep ache of lifting something just about too heavy for him to lift. He barely noticed the flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye-- you, languidly undressing down to your underwear, eyes fixed on Kento's thighs.

Kento jolted as he felt you settle, warm and blushing, straddling his spread thigh. He almost fumbled his lift, and coughed in alarm to see you sat, almost naked, pressing your core against his tensed muscles.

"Won't be late for anything? Even me? Even when I want your baby so badly, Kento," you purred, your hands coming up to remove your bra, dropping it onto Kento's twitching abs as your breasts slipped free. Kento felt a bead of sweat drop down his temple, and he growled at you in warning, frustrated to feel his composure wobble.

"Shit...you little-- got to keep to time--" Kento's arms shook as he completed the lift, resting the bar for a moment as he panted, and you rocked your hips against his thigh, pleasure immediately churning through you. Kento's jaw twitched, fists clenching and unclenching, determined to maintain his schedule, but feeling his body betray him, his cock twitching to life in his gym shorts.

Straight after, Kento reassured himself, fighting the urge to throw you over his shoulder, throw you onto the bed, and pound his cum into you until you begged for mercy, nearly done, keep to time, keep to time.

Kento's watch beeped, and he bolted to action, gripping the bar again, beginning another set of lifts-- anything to distract himself from you slipping your underwear to the side as you continued to rock your pussy, now wet and puffy, against his bare thigh. You sighed and keened, two hands planted for support on his hips, the palm of your hand brushing temptingly against his aching cock.

Kento groaned, unsure if it was from the painful stretch of the lift or from your desperate attention to his thigh, heat spreading across his shoulders and chest. His cock was throbbing now, uncomfortably tight in his shorts, pressed down at an awkward angle.

You watched Kento shift and twitch as you humped his thigh, and shivered with a sweet little moan as his muscles fluttered under your clit. Kento felt his throat go dry when your hands drifted lazily to pinch and roll your own nipples. He could feel you getting closer to orgasm, and it drove him mad that he wasn't filling your belly with his seed at the same time.

Leaning forwards, still panting, furiously rutting against Kento's thigh, drips of your arousal now running down the sides, you ghosted your hands over the outline of his cock. Kento gasped mid-lift, almost dropping the bar onto himself.

"Fuck--" he gasped, snapping your name. He hopped one hand centrally on the bars, and clapped his other hand over yours pressed to his erection, "--wait a few minutes or I swear, you're going to kill me--" Kento's words caught in his chest, his other hand darting up to stabilise the tilting bar, as you lowered his shorts, his cock springing free against his clenching abs.

With a lip-biting, devious smile, you waited until Kento had begun another lift, still stubbornly refusing to stop his workout, before grasping his cock, and laying a long, flat-tongued lick to the underside from ball to tip.

Kento cursed like a sailor, his elbows buckling, the bars lilting sideways with a metallic smash into the dock. Spitting curses at you, coming out of him in a series of growling chastisements, Kento coughed again, a spurt of pre-cum salting your tongue as you giggled around his needy cockhead.

Kento fumbled, lost in your wet little mouth sucking him in. He struggled to lift the bars again to place them in their dock, as your thighs cramped and trembled, approaching your orgasm.

His hands splayed above him like a surprised kitten, his chin to his chest as he stared down at you in fury and alarm, Kento groaned. His head snapped back to press to the bench, then back to his chest to watch your nose graze his honey-blonde hair again.

As he moved a hand down to tangle in your hair, colours popping in his eyes in ecstasy, you released his cock with a wet suck, mouth falling open as you came on his thigh. With one hand still gripping Kento by the cock, he bit into the back of his knuckles to stop himself from emptying into your hand.

Kento still glared at you in barely-restrained fury, for having nearly ended his life through means of a deadly benchpress, and opened his mouth to bark at you. His orgasm still threatened at the edge of a precipice.

"Not only am I now late," he growled, "you almost killed me-- I don't know which one is worse, I--"

When you moved up his body, straddling his hips and rolling your slick heat along his cock, Kento gripped the bars above him again for sanity, spitting feathers at you again, infuriatingly flustered.

"Thought if you were that strong," you panted, cheeks flushed and euphoric, "you could do both at once." Kento huffed at you again like an angry bull and, as if to prove a point, rolled the bar in his palms, shifting his shoulders, brick-like and tense, ready to begin another lift.

For a second time, as Kento moved into another benchpress, you raised yourself above his weeping cock, and sunk down onto his length, your wet walls plump and stretchy and inviting him to bottom out in one slick movement.

Kento moaned, his hips lifting you clear of the bench for a second as he brought the bar down to his chest, twitching and heaving with exertion and twisted pleasure. You stayed flush, rocking backwards and forwards, revelling in the fullness of him inside you, not pulling him out of you for a second.

Kento thought he had died and seen heaven when, the moment he pushed upwards to lift the weights off his chest, you leaned forwards and whispered up to him; "Hey, Kento-- I'm ovulating."

Kento came with a hoarse, wounded cry, everything pushing out of his body at once as he completed the lift, and his cum spurted up into you with mind-blowing force. Groaning a series of short, agonised groans, his cock still jumping and gushing, he slopped the bar back into the dock. You continued to rock his seed into you, eyes closed and a satisfied little smile on your face. Kento saw red.

You felt yourself being instantly grappled. Kento lifted your thighs up towards you enough that he could spin to you face the other way, his cock still plugging his cum inside you. Lifting you against him, locking your arms behind your head and your knees beside them, Kento dropped you both to the gym mat, completely restraining you in a full-nelson.

You squeaked, trying to squirm. It was absolutely futile, and you felt Kento's hot breath in your ear.

"Not that strong, hmm?" He hummed, low and threatening, "Strong enough to open your pickle jars for years though, apparently." You started to laugh, and cut off abruptly as Kento squeezed you tighter, chuckling as you squeaked again. His chuckle stretched into a groan, low and lusty, at the feeling of your pussy throbbing around his length, which had barely softened, and was rapidly hardening again.

Grappling you with his back to the floor, Kento shunted his cock up into you, satisfied at you crying out and pressing back against him; "Not that strong?" Kento planted a harsh kiss to your temple, and bucked up into you again, satisfied to feel you melt, helpless in his hold. Kento felt a lick of pride run through him as he continued to hammer upwards into you, the air filled with the squelch of his cock in your cum-filled cunt.

"Punched men through concrete-- haaah, shit-- crushed Curses under brick walls," Kento listed, grunting and ruthless as he slammed into you now, feeling his tip bully into your cervix, "and look at you now-- more origami than woman-- and you will take every-- fucking-- bit-- of --it--" Kento snapped his hips back to punctuate each word, and you mewled pitifully at him, tears streaking into your hair.

Kento laughed, feeling himself peaking again, licking your tears away with mock-gentle shushes, captivated by the way your tits bounced every time he rutted up into you.

"So-ooo-- good-- Kentooo-ooo," you squeaked out around his thrusts, a thick hot pleasure roiling in your womb as you begged him, "h--harder--please." Kento snorted, his hands gripping your thighs harder, lifting you off him to slap you back down in time with him pressing up into you. You shuddered, marshmallow-soft, twitching in pleasure as your second orgasm washed through your belly, ready to gulp Kento into you.

Kento was awash with the closeness of you, the delicious hot wet suck of your walls around his cock, the thought of you round and full and growing, because of him. Keeping you restrained with one thick forearm holding your thighs and arms back, his other hand drifted to your belly, pressing lightly, feeling the jolt as his cock rammed against your cervix.

Feeling your pussy squeeze and flutter around him, Kento's grip never faltered as he gasped, husky and satisfied, feeling his cock spurt inside you again, rolling you from side to side as he thrust lazily up into you, careful to not allow any of his seed to slip free. He lay with you in his arms for a few moments hand massaging your belly, willing his cum to soak up inside you.

With one final slow groan, Kento pulled out of you, pressing your thighs together on exit, and releasing you from the trap of his arms. Though you had planned to fall asleep, there and then, on the gym mats, Kento had other ideas.

You felt yourself being scooped up, held upside down against Kento by the waist, and he walked you to his pull-up bar across the room. You were appalled to feel him drape your legs over it, and as he let go of you, you were forced to hang upside down by the backs of your knees, a child on the monkey-bars.

"Kento!" You squeaked, appalled, cupping your breasts in your hands as he dusted off his hands and moved to settle himself again for benchpressing, "You-- how dare you-- you can't just hang me up like wet laundry!"

Kento hummed smilingly to himself as he checked his watch, reaching up to grip the bars again;

"Well darling, I've got a workout to finish. And you've got a baby to make. Isn't that what all this nonsense was about?"

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Up next: Ditch the Party Part 2 and more surprises

[nasa]

Navigating Deep Space by Starlight

On August 6, 1967, astrophysicist Jocelyn Bell Burnell noticed a blip in her radio telescope data. And then another. Eventually, Bell Burnell figured out that these blips, or pulses, were not from people or machines.

The blips were constant. There was something in space that was pulsing in a regular pattern, and Bell Burnell figured out that it was a pulsar: a rapidly spinning neutron star emitting beams of light. Neutron stars are superdense objects created when a massive star dies. Not only are they dense, but neutron stars can also spin really fast! Every star we observe spins, and due to a property called angular momentum, as a collapsing star gets smaller and denser, it spins faster. It’s like how ice skaters spin faster as they bring their arms closer to their bodies and make the space that they take up smaller.

The pulses of light coming from these whirling stars are like the beacons spinning at the tops of lighthouses that help sailors safely approach the shore. As the pulsar spins, beams of radio waves (and other types of light) are swept out into the universe with each turn. The light appears and disappears from our view each time the star rotates.

After decades of studying pulsars, astronomers wondered—could they serve as cosmic beacons to help future space explorers navigate the universe? To see if it could work, scientists needed to do some testing!

First, it was important to gather more data. NASA’s NICER, or Neutron star Interior Composition Explorer, is a telescope that was installed aboard the International Space Station in 2017. Its goal is to find out things about neutron stars like their sizes and densities, using an array of 56 special X-ray concentrators and sensitive detectors to capture and measure pulsars’ light.

But how can we use these X-ray pulses as navigational tools? Enter SEXTANT, or Station Explorer for X-ray Timing and Navigation Technology. If NICER was your phone, SEXTANT would be like an app on it.  

During the first few years of NICER’s observations, SEXTANT created an on-board navigation system using NICER’s pulsar data. It worked by measuring the consistent timing between each pulsar’s pulses to map a set of cosmic beacons.

When calculating position or location, extremely accurate timekeeping is essential. We usually rely on atomic clocks, which use the predictable fluctuations of atoms to tick away the seconds. These atomic clocks can be located on the ground or in space, like the ones on GPS satellites. However, our GPS system only works on or close to Earth, and onboard atomic clocks can be expensive and heavy. Using pulsar observations instead could give us free and reliable “clocks” for navigation. During its experiment, SEXTANT was able to successfully determine the space station’s orbital position!

We can calculate distances using the time taken for a signal to travel between two objects to determine a spacecraft’s approximate location relative to those objects. However, we would need to observe more pulsars to pinpoint a more exact location of a spacecraft. As SEXTANT gathered signals from multiple pulsars, it could more accurately derive its position in space.

So, imagine you are an astronaut on a lengthy journey to the outer solar system. You could use the technology developed by SEXTANT to help plot your course. Since pulsars are reliable and consistent in their spins, you wouldn’t need Wi-Fi or cell service to figure out where you were in relation to your destination. The pulsar-based navigation data could even help you figure out your ETA!

None of these missions or experiments would be possible without Jocelyn Bell Burnell’s keen eye for an odd spot in her radio data decades ago, which set the stage for the idea to use spinning neutron stars as a celestial GPS. Her contribution to the field of astrophysics laid the groundwork for research benefitting the people of the future, who yearn to sail amongst the stars.  

Keep up with the latest NICER news by following NASA Universe on X and Facebook and check out the mission’s website. For more on space navigation, follow @NASASCaN on X or visit NASA’s Space Communications and Navigation website.  

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[northopalshore]

Rising signs in the Groom Persona Chart: Their features

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The rising sign in your GPC tells you about your future spouse's appearance, physical attributes and how they present themselves. Picture it like reading their birth chart lol.

In the signs & degrees:

♰ Aries (1°, 13°, 25°):

Your future spouse could have very angular features, perhaps their eyes could be sharp or very striking. They could have an eager look to them, or they could look like a kid in a way. You could think that they're impatient or they may like to rush things a lot. They could have a great physique or look very hot. They could wear a lot of gym clothes, tight fitting outfits or just athletic wear in general. Either a dork (Maximilian Goof aka Goofy's son lol) or a gym rat.

♰ Taurus (2°, 14°, 26°):

They will dress very comfortably, while still looking extravagant. They could look sophisticated and very, very attractive i.e perfect smile, perfect teeth. They could be taller or heavier than you. They will be very calm, down to earth and put together. They could have a well built physique, and tough body.

♰ Gemini (3°, 15°, 27°):

They could have a slender face, pale skin and a narrow stature. They will look very expressive when they start talking, but have a rather dull resting face lol. They could look rather breezy if that makes sense. Not one to wear anything too fitted. They could have great facial symmetry. Something about their teeth will be very prominent i.e straight or very white.

♰ Cancer (4°, 16°, 28°):

They could have very soft, rounded features. Doe eyes. They could have a slight glow to their face and their eyes. Curvy body, soft lips. They could wear a lot of baggy or vintage looking clothes. They could gain weight quite easily. They will look kind and mellow. They could have a very inviting smile.

♰ Leo (5°, 17°, 29°):

Gorgeous hair, and that face card doesn't decline. They will love dressing in old Hollywood vintage clothing, old money or loud and expensive. They could have very wavy or curly hair that will catch anyone's attention. They also have a slight cocky look to them. They are attractive, and god do they know it.

♰ Virgo (6°, 18°):

They are usually very petite/short and frail looking. They could look compacted but not aggressively so. They will look very clean and polished. There will not be a single speck of dust on them nor will you spot an unironed spot on their clothing. They will love wearing comfortable yet elegant looking clothes. You'll notice they tend to lean on a specific silhouette or colour that they like.

♰ Libra (7°, 19°):

" They have the face of an angel and the body of a greek god" Beautiful. Elegant and gentle. Looking at them will leave you at a daze. They look good and know exactly how to dress for their body. All of their facial features blend in harmoniously, could have a symmetrical face too. Oval faces, bright eyes, pretty smile.

♰ Scorpio (8°, 20):

Usually, they will have very striking eyes. They could have eye bags or just darkened eyes in general. Like virgo, they could love to stare at you lol. Every feature they have will accentuate their eyes. They are very attractive ( s*xually) , everything about them will be sensual and seductive.

♰ Sagittarius (9°, 21°):

There could be a significant size difference between you. They could have very long legs, curly or fluffy hair, and animated facial features. They will look very charming, but goofy in a way. One look at them and you know they're somebody fun to be around. They could laugh a lot and look stoic (contemplating) at times.

♰ Capricorn (10°, 22°):

They could look very cold or uninviting. He could have a very relaxed yet also somewhat stern look on their face even with neutral emotions. They could look very mature, their eyebrows could often be furrowed lol. They could have very prominent bone structures i.e nose, hollow or defined cheek bones. They could look very "boney" in general lol. Very masculine.

♰ Aquarius (11°, 23°):

They could be very tall or slender. Their heads and arms could be quite prominent something about them will catch a lot of stray eyes. They likely have features that are rebellious in nature. They could have odd hairstyles/ colours (especially) or tattoos or piercings. They could dress very.. exotically? Strange? Their fashion style could be quite questionable to say the least but never are they boring to look at.

♰ Pisces (12°, 24°):

They will have very sad, sultry looking eyes that look almost sympathetic 24/7. They will seem like they're not really "there" with you i.e lost in thought or deep contemplation. They will have very rounded features. Their cheeks could look very puffy or rounded when they smile. You could think that they're too good to be true. Their skin could have a greyish undertone, almost like the moon is beneath their skin.

Note: If there are conflicting signs of their appearance for example you have Virgo rising (small, petite) in 2° Taurus (bigger, heavier) then it means your fs is considered large for a virgo i.e.gains weight easily, and are very well built or muscular while still not being overly built (lean).

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*** entertainment only, reader discretion is advised***

Thank you for reading ♡

@northopalshore

@northopalshore 2024 all rights reserved.

[astrxbtchs]

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ (𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲) 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲/𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

𓆩♡𓆪 Unrequited synastry can be seen with vertex making hard aspects to the moon. Since vertex is an angular placement, it will be felt by the vertex person. The vertex person is affected by the planet person more bc they are the source of energy that the vertex is being activated with. With a moon square vertex for example, the moon person will provoke deep emotions out of the vertex person simply because they activate this energy from them. They feel more because that energy is invoked out of them, causing intense emotions.

It reminds me of this for some reason:🧍🏾‍♀️-> > >🧍🏾‍♀️ Basically the person on the left (moon person) naturally projecting their energy onto the person on the right (vertex person) and the vx taking it all in and becoming heavily affected. You can tell a bit how that vertex angle can be a bit one sided ***I really hope you understand this interpretation lol this is just how my brain computes things for me to understand it. I hope it helps

𓆩♡𓆪 Another unrequited aspect could be Neptune Square/Opposition to mercury. This can show lies and deception being told by the Neptune person. Communication exchanged between the two can be very hazy and difficult to understand, as if you never know where you stand with this person and words are easily misinterpreted and taken the wrong way. There's feeling as if you can't completely let your guard down or trust this person, for fear that they may be lying to you.

** experiencing synastry with mercury in the 12th can feel the same way.

S/N, please let me know if you guys want a whole post on my observations/opinions of unrequited synastry in a chart. I have a lot of ideas on this so tell me if that is something you would be interested in ;)

𓆩♡𓆪 Keep in mind when looking at synastry aspects, that the aspects with 6 degrees or tighter are really the ones you need to really be paying attention to. When aspects get too wide in a synastry chart the overall energy of it is dimmed and doesn't affect the connection as much as closer orbs.

𓆩♡𓆪 Having Chiron in the 3rd house is constantly being self-conscious about how you communicate with others and always looking back on the embarrassing/awkward encounters with others and inwardly cringing

𓆩♡𓆪 Every Capricorn rising and Sag rising are naturally popular and will always have a group of friends. A Sag rising will naturally attract people to them with the bright aura they exude. People will want to be around Capricorn risings to feel like they are "in", these people have the influence of power and overall give a status image that people like to attach to so they can feel that way as well.

𓆩♡𓆪 I feel Capricorn risings are one of the few in the ascendant signs that can come close to rivaling the intensity a Scorpio rising has. Imagine these two in a room seeing who can gain the most control over the other first lol. I can only imagine if in romantic attraction this connection is INSATIABLE because neither of them would want to give in to each other first. I feel they both put each other on edge.

𓆩♡𓆪 I know we talk about the 1st house/ascendant for our looks but can we talk about the 10th house also playing a big role in our outward appearance as well. 10th house talks about our representation to the world that we have the best ability to control, whereas 1st house is unconsciously there on display.

𓆩♡𓆪 (ANY) Virgo placements will go through the most traumatizing experience ever and you would never know because they will appear so put together. Or they will act so unfazed as if they didn’t just tell you the most life altering moment they just went/lived through.

**if you are a virgo rising my heart really goes out to you. I can't imagine living my life in a state of complete psychoanalysis of everything. Almost as if your mind can take over you a lot because of the constant examination of every single thing going on in your life, I know that can be quite exhausting. Y'all are so strong🫶🏾

𓆩♡𓆪 Are you a master manipulator or do you just have mercury in 7th or mercury in Gemini/Libra?

𓆩♡𓆪 I don't understand why people don't give credit to how BINDING moon in the 10th house synastry can be!!! Romantically, this synastry gets the rep of being cold and detached, which is true in a sense. In the beginning, expressing emotions to each other can feel uncomfortable and awkward, causing for a slow burn relationship to form. (often times it fizzles out) Once these people get over that hump and are able to trust one other to fully open up it is absolutely BEAUTIFUL. This is the house of Saturn so when feelings get involved here they rarely go away since they take so long to form. Saturn is not into the act of letting go of things at all and is often life long. If a breakup has occurred with this synastry those feelings will simmer within you forever, and its damn near impossible to forget about them. This will probably be one of those contacts that will hurt the most and you will feel for a long time.

𓆩♡𓆪 Lilith in the 7th and Pisces Venus have a tendency to choose people that they know are not good for them. For both placements, the danger of what a person could do to them is like a drug. It is not uncommon for these people to find themselves in relationship scandals and affairs. Whether they are the ones doing the cheating or the other way around, they will most likely experience both situations.

- Lilith in the 7th choose the wrong people because they are attracted to passionate toxicity.

-Pisces Venus often choose the wrong people because of an idealized version they have created or because they think they are able to fix a person. 

**if you have both of these placements, may god be with you 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

𓆩♡𓆪 Venus in the 3rd house synastry is most likely someone you met online, in school, close to your home or places you frequent. It will be so easy for these people to find anything in the world to talk about. They have similar interests and love the same things, although they could talk for days and not get to anything beneath the surface. They like to keep things lighthearted so if there are any issues they are experiencing with one another they tend to avoid it to not ruffle the feathers of one another and keep things peaceful, passive aggression can be a thing here. Romantically, this will be a person you will not be able to get off your mind, you will constantly be thinking of each another throughout your day. You might not even know how much this person actually thinks of you because things can come off so surface level, feelings may not be discussed.

𓆩♡𓆪 Sun/Venus is the 2nd house synastry can either boost your confidence or completely destroy it. Can also be an indicator of gold digger/sugar baby placement. The 2nd house person will be completely enamored by the sun/venus person. It will be easy for the sun/venus person to trust the 2nd house person. The 2nd house person can tend to view the sun/venus person as a object. Often wanting to spend money on them to make them happy. More so with the Venus here, the 2nd house person loves to spend money on them to make them look physically appealing. This will be the person buying you clothes, shoes, hairstyles and they even LOVE buying you food. Dinner dates are a MUST.

𓆩♡𓆪 Mars in the 2nd house synastry is ultimate marriage material. If you have this with someone its soo good for long-term partnerships. These too will not be able to keep their hands off each other, they are so sexually appealing to one another it will be so hard. The mars person will love to be the provider for the second house person. They will be the one to go out and work multiple jobs if they have to just to get the second house person everything they want, and they will love to do it. This couple will be SUPER sensual together. ⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇ ♡ Thank you babes for reaching this point, love youssss♥️ If you enjoyed I would love any feedback any you have experienced any of these placements ;) I hope you like the longer, more in-depth posts. What would you guys like to see next?

[tailoroffates]

Writing tips # 6 - The Body

Hey, hi everyone! I'm back again with yet another segment of Writing tips. Today I'm going to chat about something many struggle to describe. The body. Below will be several categories containing words synonymous with descriptors used when explaining someone's body. Hopefully, now y'all won't end up struggling for an hour like I have trying to figure out a socially correct way to explain that this particular character is obese :D

Thin

Angular, bony, emaciated, dainty, ethereal, frail, gangly, lanky, lean, malnourished, narrow, petite, puny, rawboned, scrawny, skeletal, skin-and-bone, skinny, slender, slight, slim, stick, twiggy, underweight.

Heavy

Beefy, big-boned, bloated, brawny, broad, bulging, bulky, burly, chubby, chunky, dense, elephantine, full-bodied, gargantuan, heavy-set, husky, lumpy, massive, obese, oversized, paunchy, plump, plumpish, portly, potbellied, pudgy, robust, rotund, round, shapeless, solid, stocky, stout, thick, wide.

Short

Compact, dwarfed, dwarfish, little, low, miniature, pint-sized, runty, squat, stunted, stubby, stumpy, tiny, undersized, wee.

Tall

Alpine, beanstalk, gangly, giant, lanky, lofty, skyscraping, stick, stretched, towering.

Weak

Decrepit, delicate, effeminate, emaciated, feeble, flaccid, fragile, frail, puny, sickly.

Strong

Beefy, brawny, burly, firm, herculean, huge, hulky, husky, muscular, powerful, ripped, robust, rugged, shredded, solid, stalwart, stout, strapping, tough, well-built.

Fit

Athletic, hardy, healthy, hearty, shapely, robust, toned, trim.

As always I hope this helps. Have a wonderful day and let your days be blessed as the best! <3

[platinumaspiration]

Lovestruck + Sims Delivery Express Updates

Howdy! Hair comes fresh out the proverbial oven to your table. Please enjoy, let me know if any issues.

Afro Puff and Long Braided Pulled Ombre are part of my hair default collection so throw out the mesh files if you have that.

Barrel Twist has an ombre option as well and Fringe has a femme version. I forgot pictures 😣

Download EP16 - SFS | MF Download SDX033 - SFS | MF Download SDX035 - SFS | MF

updated 8 Sept 2024

details below the cut:

EP16 Angular Fringe CU-EU | base colors | animated | 2.502 poly

EP16 Brush Up UM | base colors | 2.756 poly

EP16 Burst Fade UM | base colors + 5 ombre | 3.580 poly

EP16 Curl Pony TF-EF | base colors + 5 non-tinted | animated | 3.186 poly

EP16 Fringe UU | base colors | 3.599 poly

EP16 Long CF-EF | base colors | animated | 3.266 poly

EP16 Long Wavy TF-EF | base colors | animated | 3.704 poly

EP16 Short Hair Pin CF-EF | base colors | animated | 3.900 poly

EP16 Top Bun TU-EU | base colors | 2.110 poly

EP16 Twist Clip TF-EF | base colors | animated | 3.007 poly

SDX033 Long Braided Pulled Back Ombre TF-EF | 5 ombre colors | animated | 6.185 poly

SDX033 Afro Puffs Ombre CF-EF | 6 ombre colors | 3.350 poly

SDX035 Barrel Twist TM-EM | base colors + 6 ombre colors | 5.462 poly

SDX035 Bombshell UF | base colors | animated | 3.636 poly

SDX035 Ponytail UU | base colors | 3.112 poly

[bugmuncherr]

BUG OF THE DAY

BotD 6 - 03/27/24

Am I late this time? No way!!! This is the Gaudy Sphinx Moth!

These fluttery fellas are anything but gaudy, bearing beautiful emerald coloring. As with most Hawkmoths, these moths have a splash of red lining their underwings. That, along with their sharp, angular wings make these moths an absolutely stunning species! These moths can usually be found in North, Central, and South America, but commonly fly long distances, and can occasionally be found in strange places. The larvae of this species have distinct eyespots, meant to resemble that of snake eyes. Their disproportionately large, shiny "eyes" make them look almost like a Pokémon in their larval state. Truly an amazing creature!

[frogs-in3-hills]

went insane and drew a full spritesheet for asougi in the ghost trick style :] play ghost trick btw

[ID: The post contains a series of 15 images of Kazuma Asougi from The Great Ace Attorney, drawn in the Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective style. They are right-facing, static 2D sprites. The style angular and expressive with clean, heavily-weighted line art and blocky cel shading. Broad pointed shoulders and simplified, bombastic hairstyles are also characteristics of this style. Asougi is wearing his Yumei University uniform, red hachimaki, and defense attorney’s armband, with Karuma slung over his hip.

The first image is of Asougi’s pointing sprite edited onto a black-and-red swirling, pixelated background, which is taken from Ghost Trick. A textbox in the Ghost Trick style fills the bottom of the screen and reads, “You’re telling me a ghost tricked this attorney?”

The following images show each sprite on a blank background. There are two sprites per image.

1: A neutral, arms-crossed sprite. He has good posture and his head is held high.

2: Asougi’s angry sprite. It is similar to his neutral sprite, but his shoulders are tensed, his face is tilted down, and his eyebrows are furrowed.

3: A thinking sprite. Asougi’s face is tilted down with a hand raised to his chin. He is looking slightly to the side with a pensive expression.

4: An objection/pointing sprite. His mouth is open in a shout and he wears a determined expression. His arm is slightly foreshortened.

5: Asougi wears a neutral expression with one hand on his hip and one on the hilt of his katana.

6: A happy sprite. Asougi has both hands on his hips with a smile. His posture is slightly more relaxed than his neutral pose.

7: A laughing sprite. Asougi’s head is tilted up as he laughs heartily. His eyes are closed. His visible arm is on his hip and his chest is slightly puffed out.

8: Asougi’s determined pose. He is leaning forward with a frown and furrowed brows. He holds his left fist out in front of him while his other hand is clenched into a fist at his hip.

9: A stressed/surprised sprite. This sprite is a near-copy of his arms-crossed neutral sprite, but his eyes are slightly wider and his mouth is open, showing his teeth. There are two drops of sweat running down his cheek.

10: A more intense stressed sprite. Asougi is leaning forward with a fist clenched at his side. His brows are furrowed and his mouth is open in a shout. Sweat is dripping from his face.

11: Asougi is leaning back with both hands reaching forward and resting on the hilt of his katana. His head is tilted to the side and he wears a slightly annoyed expression. This pose is taken from a sprite that only appears in the first case of The Great Ace Attorney.

12: Asougi is leaning back with his right arm raised in the air as he tilts his head in a nonchalant manner. His expression is somewhat deadpan.

13: Asougi’s body is turned into a profile view as he reaches for his sword with his right hand. His shoulder partially obscures his face, which is tilted down. His eyes are trained forward and he wears a determined, focused expression.

14: Asougi has his arms crossed, nearly identical to his neutral pose, but his head is tilted into a profile view and slightly downwards. His hair falls in a way that obscures his eyes, and there is a shadow cast over his face to convey a more serious expression. End ID.]

[sigalrm]

Super Speed by Pascal Volk

[skzdarlings]

06. sharing a bed series ; skz ; felix

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 6/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. bodyguard au. a dose of angst. open ending. past violence and parental abuse mentioned. ongoing perilous situation and forced proximity. not the healthiest dynamic lol. spanking, some rough play, hair-pulling, throat-grabbing, overstimulation, crying during sex, mention of past unprotected sex, a more dominant felix and a kinda bratty reader.

-

You kick open your bedroom door.  As usual, no one is home except for you and Felix so you are free to scream and curse and stomp all you want. 

“I can’t fucking believe you!” you shout among a flurry of other colourful words.   

Felix enters behind you with his hands in his pockets, looking as nonchalant as ever. 

Felix’s perpetual calmness is half the reason your father hired him.  The other reason is that Felix was the best behaved boy in the world who grew into the most pristine, perfect man.  Your father did not claw his way to the top of the industrial world by settling for anything less than the best.  Lee Felix is the best.  Your father trusts him with everything and anything, including wrangling his rambunctious daughter.  Felix’s job is to guard and protect you – from others and from yourself.   He is annoyingly good at it.    

Felix is the prettiest, loveliest, sweetest man on the outside, particularly selected for his unassuming attributes.  An obvious bodyguard figure draws unwanted attention.  Felix, however, attended high school and college with you, posing as a fellow student and never looking out of place, always appearing gentle and ordinary and kind.  Behind that, he is a lethally competent bodyguard.  Your skinny, freckled, fair-haired watchdog can subdue any adversary. 

Including the one tonight. 

“I was just doing my job,” Felix says.  He closes your bedroom door and locks it out of habit even though you are home alone.  He is still completely uncaring to your crisis, as fucking usual, wandering around like he is a sensitive little lamb, smiling and content. 

You throw yourself down on your bed with a dramatic heave. 

“You broke his arm!” you cry.   

Felix is standing at your desk, removing his work equipment.  He is dressed like a civilian for the most part, denim pants with a windbreaker and a button-down over a t-shirt.  He lays the jacket over the back of the chair and sighs, looking at his reflection in your vanity mirror.   He runs a hand through his hair, still casual, feathering the dyed locks so they flutter back into place.   

“I was just doing my job,” he repeats.  He undoes the button-down and tosses it aside, then kicks his shoes under the desk.  

Felix is all sharp lines and harsh angles, slender but athletic.  His cheekbones are high, his angular face softened by his dark eyes and endearing freckles.   That sweetness is juxtaposed by the gun harness strapped across his back. 

You swallow.  The harness hits the floor, then he grabs the back of the t-shirt and yanks it swiftly over his head.  It joins the pile of discarded articles. 

He sits on the desk chair with a distracted sigh, dutifully disassembling the gun for an inspection or cleaning or whatever nonsense Felix has decided is more important than your conversation.  

“His arm,” you repeat.  “You broke his arm.  He was a completely innocent guy!  I’m allowed to flirt with guys!  Just because you’re my daddy’s good dog and he doesn’t let you get your dick wet, doesn’t mean I have to suffer too.” 

Felix looks at you, his mouth a thin line with his unamused smile. 

“Cute,” he says.  He drops the smile and his distinctive deep voice drops another decibel when he says, “You can flirt.  Just not with him.”

“His arm—”

Felix closes the gun and puts it on the desk. 

“I think he was lucky I didn’t rip it off for grabbing you like that, don’t you think?”  Felix says.  He asks it so nicely too, tipping his head imploringly, like he really wants an answer.  Not that he waits.  Just as soon as the smile comes, it goes, replaced with a eye roll as he gets to his feet. 

“Get ready for bed,” Felix says.  “And, mmm, that’s not a request by the way.  I’m phoning your dad to tell him we’re home safe.” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to argue, just leaves the room while reaching into his back pocket for his phone.  He closes the door behind himself, leaving you to fume by your lonesome. 

Out of rebellious frustration, you do not budge an inch.  You cross your arms and sit back on your bed, still dressed in your evening outfit.  You can distantly hear Felix speaking in a formal voice and it makes you twitch with anticipation. 

Felix being so professional is simultaneously his most annoying and most attractive quality.  Annoying, because he really never falters on the clock.  Attractive, because it wouldn’t be any fun pushing him to the boundaries of his rules if he wasn’t such a stickler in the first place.

When Felix returns, still wearing nothing more than his jeans, his expression immediately turns exasperated.  He closes the door and puts his hands on his hips, staring down at you.  

You stare straight ahead, arms and ankles crossed.   You and Felix have shared a bed since the day he was hired, back when you were teenagers, as you were in the habit of sneaking out at night.  You were not intimidated by the chubby-cheeked teenage boy, gleefully slipping past him while he slumbered – until suddenly you were being yanked back through the window.  You learned the hard way that despite his appearance and disposition, he was an especially skilled martial artist.    

As your father continues to accrue enemies in every market, you cannot live life on your own, not without endangering it.  You still need Felix.  You still share a bed.  Everything you do, you do with Felix, whether you like it or not.  Felix expresses little feeling on that front, a perpetual font of seeming sunshine when he isn’t breaking someone’s arm.

You know you are being mightily petulant by keeping him up, but you don’t care.   If you can’t have what you want then neither can he.   You can stay up all night, just staring and glaring at each other contemptuously.  You are happy to let all that mutual disdain simmer through its achingly slow burn. 

“Really?”  Felix says.  “Do we have to do this tonight?” 

“I’m not doing anything,” you say.   

“Right.”  He laughs dryly but sits gingerly on his side of the bed.  He smiles, his eyes crinkling sweetly with pleasure.  His hair is getting longer again, sweeping his neck, and you watch as he delicately tucks some behind his ear.   He leans on one arm, looking at you.  “I’ll ask you nicely then, sweetheart.” 

Ooh, that’s a low blow and he knows it.  The word sweetheart always sounds so rich in his mouth, his accent softening the heart of it.  Hopefully he misses the way you melt, but you doubt it. 

His smile only deepens. 

“Please, please get ready for bed,” he says.  “It’s been a long day, yeah?  And we’re both so tired.  Come on.  Let’s go.  Just need some rest I think.  Yeah, yeah, let’s go.” 

You do not move.    

You hear him sigh, a melodic sound.  He runs his hand through his hair again. 

“All right,” he says, soulfully.  “All right.  Fine.” 

You hear the sharper inflection in his tone but you react a moment too late.  Your bed is big, big enough you could starfish without even brushing his side of the bed, so it takes you a second to scamper to the opposite side. 

That second is too long.  Felix reaches out and grabs you by the calf, dragging you across the bed.

“Don’t you dare,” you say, kicking at him to no avail.   “I’ll phone my dad!”

He is completely undeterred by your dramatics, only sighing when he hauls you over his lap. 

“Go ahead,” he says.  “I’m allowed to use, uhhh, what’d he say… discretion… mm… to discipline you if I think I need to.” He puts his phone within your reach.  It is not a genuine gesture of goodwill so much as it is taunting you because you both know your father would take his side.   “Well?” he asks.  “Do you want to phone him?”   

“I hate you,” you say.

“I know,” he replies.  “Sorry.” 

He sounds like he means it, though it’s hard to believe him when he flicks up your dress and swings his open palm across your ass.  His hand comes down four more times before he neatly fixes your skirt again. 

“Bed time?” he asks brightly, like everything has been solved with no problem. 

You crawl off his lap while grumbling irritably, doing your best to ignore the smarting on your behind when you turn over to glare at him.  He is just smiling at you, that thin-lipped way he smiles with dry humour. 

“I hate you,” you say again. 

He waves his hand, gesturing the vaguest, blandest sentiment of meh with its wiggle.  

“I’m just doing my job,” he says for the millionth time. 

“Really?” you reply with as much sarcasm as he usually gives.  He hears it, tilting his head like a curious cat, as if he has no idea why you could possibly be upset with him – though the stupid little upturn to his lips tells you that he knows exactly why.  

You hate him.  You really, really do hate him.  You have never hated anyone the way you hate him and you want to shout it from the roof.  But you can’t do that.  You can only say it to his face in private, in whatever way you can.  

You reach without warning, cupping the bulge between his legs and finding a lot more than a denim crinkle.  His gaze darkens, his hand covering yours warningly, though he doesn’t lift it away.

You adopt a saccharine sweet tone when you speak.

“Do you tell my daddy that when you discipline me you get hard?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. 

He moves your hand to his thigh instead, shaking his head. 

“Stop being silly,” he says.  “Go get ready for bed.” 

Your eyes follow him as he stands.  He doesn’t get far when you grab his belt loop and tug him back.   Felix has fast reflexes and is incredibly coordinated, so you find it hard to believe you sincerely bested him, but he stumbles as if you did.   He stands where you want him, where he’s close enough for you to kneel on the bed and press your face right against his bulge. 

He says your name in a warning voice, his already deep voice dropping more.

“I wonder…” you say, nuzzling your nose against the ridge in the denim, where you can feel him hard and getting harder still.  “When my daddy asks you what we do all day,” you say, flicking your eyes up to his, “do you tell him your dick spends more time in my mouth than in your pants?”

His nostrils flare with his next breath. 

You smile, victorious. 

“He still thinks you’re his perfect soldier, doesn’t he?” you ask.  “You can do no wrong.  Little does he know…”

“I do my job,” Felix says.  “And I do a good job.  Okay? That’s all that matters.”   

You start to open your mouth, one hand climbing towards his fly.   You stop with a gasp when he fists a chunk of your hair, tugging your head away from him.  It sends a hot shock rippling through you, flooding you with the recollection of all the times he grabbed your hair and pulled you closer, the times he cupped your head and put himself in your mouth despite knowing better, the number of times he fucked between your pretty lips and forgot to be proper, cursing so much it was practically poetry. 

This time he guides you away and you whimper miserably.  He does not loosen his grip, his fingers threading closer to your scalp so it both hurts less and holds stronger.   He knows better than to just let go.   He knows you perfectly.  You glare at him. 

“Look at me,” he says, because your gaze dropped to his bulge again.  “I said look at me.”   He tugs your hair so you obey, giving him your most annoyed expression.  “You’re listening, yeah?” he says.  He doesn’t wait for an answer.  “You’re going to go to your closet.  Get ready for bed.  Sleep.  You’re going to do that,” his voice turns frighteningly pleasant, “or I’m going to carry you over there and get you ready myself.” 

“Like when we were leaving the club tonight?” you ask just as sweetly.  “And you put me over your shoulder then, oops, something happened when we were in the limo, didn’t it?” 

He lets go of you, exhaling tiredly in a high-pitched breath.

“Where did all your pretty rings go, Felix?” you ask, reaching for his bare hand, usually adorned with rings.  “Did they fall on the floor in the limo when you decided you had to shove your hand up my skirt?”   

Leaving the club, you were both wired.  Felix was honestly justified in breaking that guy’s arm.  You purposefully chose the creepiest, shadiest guy in the club to lead on, knowing Felix would appear two seconds later to rescue you.   He always does.  No one else ever pays you any personal attention and your life is too complicated for romance, so you thrive on the feeling of someone caring enough to always find you – even if it’s literally his job. 

You also like getting mad at him for overreacting, but you like his overreactions.   Him twisting and breaking that creep’s arm honestly turned you on.  It also got Felix all worked up, a bit pissed because you were being irresponsible again but nonetheless heated.  You thought for sure he’d take you home and go crazy and fuck you in the foyer.  Instead he put up the limo divider and one-by-one removed his rings, giving you ample time to refuse before he covered your mouth tightly and slid his other hand up between your thighs. 

Of course, despite bringing you to the edge several times, he never let you finish.  Because he’s the worst. 

And now you’re all worked up and he’s shirtless and being a stupid, pretty, two-faced bitch.

“I—”  you start. 

He rolls his eyes and says, “I know. I know.  You hate me.  Now go.”

You get up, stomping all the way to your walk-in closet.  You can’t even slam the door because it’s a sliding one, but you make the biggest possible demonstration of closing it anyway. 

You get ready for bed.   You briefly consider dressing provocatively or even strolling out there naked, but in the end you decide to just dress in your ugly, comfy, over-sized t-shirt and march angrily back into the room. 

Felix is gone when you return, probably off to double-check the house security one last time before joining you.   You could try climbing out the window and down the terrace, just to be ridiculous, but he’ll catch up sooner than later and be even more annoying about it.   So you get into bed and turn off the lights, laying down with a huff, blankets pulled up to your chin. 

You get a bit dozy before Felix returns, the creaking door snapping you awake.  You look over your shoulder and watch him finally shuck the jeans.  He gets into bed in his boxers, removing his earrings once under the covers.  He puts on the bedside table, then double-checks his gun is in the drawer, then and then only then does he lay down. 

The big bed leaves an ocean of space between you.  You roll over to face him.  His eyes are closed but there’s no way he is already asleep. 

“Felix,” you whisper, even though the big house is empty, “I’m cold.”

“There’s another blanket in the closet,” he says without opening his eyes. 

You slide across the bed, close enough to reach out and put a hand on his chest.  He opens his eyes and stares straight up. 

“I need a cuddle,” you say.  “Or I’ll have nightmares.” 

“You’re not a child anymore,” he says. 

That is maybe one thing you miss about the time before you and Felix started… this.  When things were still innocent between you, he would often let you snuggle up with him.  Now, he keep his distance.  Now, he doesn’t hug or hold you. 

So no one does.    

“We’re still young,” you say, a dumb argument, but you’re tired and out of ideas. 

“I was never as young as you,” he grumbles, more to himself than you.  He seems to realize what he said and shakes his head.  He pats your hand on his chest then rolls over, leaving his back to you. 

You slowly return your hand to yourself, staring at the back of his head with an uncharacteristic prickling of tears. 

Felix doesn’t talk about his life before this.  You just know that it was somehow worse.   Worse than being a watchdog.  Worse than giving up years of his life to protect someone else.   Worse than the times your father wanted to discipline you but learned that if he hit you directly you would just patch yourself up and move on, but if he hit Felix then you would break down and offer anything to make him stop.  

You can see a couple faded scars from those times, faint lines that cross his back, remnants of old belt lashings.  You touch one now, tracing your finger lightly from one end to the other.  You watch a shiver roll down his spine.   He doesn’t turn around. 

Giving up, you roll away, back to your distant side of the bed.  You close your eyes and will yourself to sleep, but it just makes you well up with tears.  You sniffle, rubbing your nose messily on the back of your arm.    

Fabric rustles.  You suck in a breath when Felix slides up behind you, pulling you into the middle of the bed where he holds you snugly in his arms.   You immediately roll to face him, throwing a leg over his hip and burying your face in his neck. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, nothing else. 

“I hate you,” you say, then press a kiss just under his jaw.

“I know.”  He cups the back of your head as your kisses move down his neck.  “I know.” 

You make it to the middle of his chest before he turns you onto your back and gets up over you.  He kisses you properly, thumbs wiping your tears as his mouth makes you forget about the reason you cried at all.  All that matters is kissing him back, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him close as possible.  His sounds of pleasure are so deep and rough and rumbling. 

“Fuck me, please, please,” you say, pushing your fingers into his hair. 

He groans, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“You know we can’t do that,” he says. 

“We’ve done it before,” you say, purposefully canting your hips to rub against him, reminding him you are still so hot and wet from his finger-fucking, that only stupid underwear keeps you apart.  It has the desired effect, his brow furrowing as he holds himself still above you.  You peck his lips and string your arms around his neck.  “You know I’m on birth control now for that reason,” you say, a little sweetly, smiling up at him.  “Remember?”

He drops his face in the crook of your neck and makes an even crazier sound, shaking his head. 

“That was very, very irresponsible of us, you know,” he says. 

“Mhm,” you say, sliding your hand down his body to his waistband.  “It really was.  But it felt good, didn’t it?   Dangerous.  Coming inside me like that.”

Felix is right; that incident was very irresponsible.  You had already started your little cat-and-mouse game and ran out of condoms one night.  Because the two of you only have sex with each other, when that happened, you usually just fooled around until he pulled out. 

That time was… a lot.   You were pressed so tightly together and you were being painfully quiet because you weren’t home alone.  It was such a stupid time to mess around, but common sense leaves you when Felix is involved. 

That feeling is mutual.  Felix knew better too.   If he got you pregnant… the fallout with your father would be catastrophic for both of you.   Still, for that moment he was inside you, with your fingers laced together and pressed by your head, with your legs tight around him and his face in your neck, nothing else seemed to exist.  You were two normal people who were allowed to do whatever they wanted with whoever they wanted.  It was a breathless, momentary fantasy, holding him tight and telling him to come, shuddering at the noise he made as he did just that.   You didn’t even panic after the fact.   You let the moment linger for as long as it could, still pretending you were normal, still pretending it was fine. 

You started birth control soon after, telling your father it was to regulate your period.   He waved it off, not wanting to hear more.  

Your father has truly never suspected a thing.  He doesn’t see the people around him as people, just objects, so it makes sense that he sees nothing in Felix but a soldier.  He doesn’t know anything about Felix.  Doesn’t know the pattern of his freckles or how his eyes crinkle up when he smiles.  Doesn’t know he has a sweet tooth and will dump a thing of sugar in nearly everything.  Doesn’t know what he finds funny, doesn’t know what makes him sad, doesn’t know anything at all.  

You drag your calf up the back of his leg.

“Felix,” you say. 

He gives you no chance to say more.  One second you are in limbo, the very next he has shoved down both his boxers and your underwear and is already pressing into you.  Only nonsense leaves your lips after that, your eyes closing as he works your body like a familiar and well-loved instrument.   He knows it as well as you do.  As you do his.  It’s easy to work him up, to get him as close as you. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, changing position so he’s kneeling.  He puts one of your legs up against his chest, levelling you with an amused smile.  “You’re trying to get me to finish first,” he says. 

“What? Noooo…”  Your giggle turns into a gasp.  You can be as loud as you want but you bite your fist anyway, hiccupping with a choked back sob of pleasure when he finds an angle that makes you see stars. 

“Yes, you are,” he says.  “But you won’t win.” 

“I will,” you say.

“Uh-uh,” he says. “Sure.” 

He makes you come twice before he does.  He even starts pushing you towards a third but you are so oversensitive that it makes tears fall.  He cups your chin and looks at you, cursing. 

“You’re so mean,” you say, smiling through your tears.  “Getting off to me crying.”

“I’m—not—I just—”

“Liar,” you tease.  “You totally are.”

He just giggles.  Then he flips a switch and goes from cute to something else, grabbing your throat and fucking into your oversensitive pussy so good and hard that you cry out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he says.  “Got you.  Got you.  I—”

You kiss him and he comes, sinking into you with dick and tongue and breath, filling you and surrounding you.  

You hold him close, arms tight around him, his sweaty forehead pressed to yours.   When he tries to lift away, you pull him back, making him laugh softly. 

“Stay,” you say, and repay his torture by squeezing him inside you, knowing it will make him twitch and jerk with oversensitivity of his own. 

“You never make it easy for me, do you,” he says with no animosity. 

You shake your head and smile like you’re proud of that.  He laughs then kisses you.   The kiss is good and thorough and sweet, completely loving, affectionate.  It gets your heart racing despite everything you just did.  You rest your hands on his chest and gently push him back. 

“I still hate you,” you say, because you have to say it, because the opposite would be too dangerous to ever say.  You can’t even let that word enter your thoughts, certainly never let it leave your lips.  If you held that word in your mouth for even a second, you would become addicted to it.   So you glare at him with all passion you can muster and say,   “I hate you so much.”   You sniffle when he wipes your tears away.   You turn your face.  “I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anyone.” 

“I know,” he says in a strained voice.  He presses his forehead to your temple and exhales.   “I know, sweetheart.”