#I’ve never related so much to an image

[soft-cloud-pillows]

[kaijutegu]

Beating the Heat while Fat: A Summer Survival Guide

Summer is (almost) here and it’s going to be hotter than ever. If you’re fat (like me), you know how much hot weather sucks. Specifically, we get to deal with fun issues like underboob sweat, chub rub, skin fold sunburn, and more. And while I like to take a body neutral approach to everything, this can be hard in summer thanks to exclusion and neglect.

The thing is that not a lot of people really... talk about these things, though, because that would interfere with our image of summer. Not a lot of companies are marketing their stuff as a solution to fat people’s problems, because that would be acknowledging that fat people might actually want to go outside during summer.

Having been fat for many a summer now, I want to share some of my resources for enjoying summer! These are all based on personal recommendations and things I have directly experienced. Please feel free to reblog and add on with your experiences and recommendations!

However, if your commentary is even remotely fatphobic, you will be blocked and your comments will be deleted. This post is not for you, and nobody is actually interested in what you have to say!

Back and Underboob Sweat

Two words: Gold Bond. Gold Bond fixes this. It comes in powder, stick, and spray form. I’ve used the powder in shoes, but not on my body. They’ve recently released an invisible form of the spray, which I’m very excited about.

Spray this under your breast tissue or other skin folds, or on flat areas of skin like your lower back that tend to sweat. Some of their powders have aloe in them, which is delightfully soothing for the skin.

Make sure that if you’re sensitive to scent, you buy one of the unscented versions. The “fresh” scent is nice, but it is a scent!

When you’re using this type of spray, do it clean but dry. Don’t do it right after a shower- give your skin a chance to dry off. Lift your breast or skin fold, spray underneath, and then hold it for a couple of seconds to let the spray dry down.

You can also use other types of powder, like body powder or baby powder. There’s mixed evidence about talc-containing powder and its link to cancer, but some people do find talcum powder more irritating than talc-free powder, so whether or not you use this is up to you.

Do keep in mind that this is NOT sunscreen! Apply your sunscreen first for areas of exposed skin.

Chub Rub

Dealing with the tops of your thighs rubbing together is extremely unfun. There are a couple of ways I like to deal with this!

Slip Shorts

I actually reviewed a bunch of these a few years ago. Slip shorts or bike shorts are perfect for wearing under dresses or loose-fitting rompers as a way to stop your thighs from rubbing. As a bonus, if you’re using bike shorts, sometimes they come with extra pockets to stash stuff in.

Friction Sticks

If you’re wearing a swimsuit and don’t want to wear shorts, or just don’t want to wear shorts, period, then a friction stick is another good way to avoid chub rub! I have a couple, Bodyglide and Gold Bond.

If you’re buying Bodyglide, they have one that’s just as good, Bodyglide Outdoor, that is sometimes cheaper. There’s a Bodyglide “For Her” which I’ve never tried, but that’s usually more expensive and let’s be real, do you really need to moisturize your inner thighs? I think not!

There’s also creams you can use but I find those messy and less effective than the sticks. You might like them, though! Experiment with products to find the one(s) that work for you.

Friction sticks can also stop foot blisters. Rub a little on your heel, toe, or wherever you get hot spots. 

Dealing With Sweat

I sweat, you sweat, we all sweat. Humans were meant to sweat. Sweating’s a good thing. But that doesn’t mean it’s fun, and frankly I hate being sweaty. Typically, fat people sweat more than thin people, for several reasons related to the way we thermoregulate.

Fortunately, there are lots of ways to make summer sweating less annoying. I’ve written about this before, so you can check out that post for some of my favorite tips for dealing with sweat. Here’s some of the highlights.

Evaporative Cooling

A bandanna or other wrap filled with water crystals can do AMAZING things. You can make this yourself really easily- if you can’t find water crystals, you can just use Orbeez. They sell little 99 cent packs of those in the checkout lines at some stores and at the dollar store, and you can make several cooling wraps with one packet.

You can also get evaporative cooling towels, like Frogg Toggs. I don’t like those as much because they tend to start smelling a little funny, but they’re great for larger area coverage.

Using these will help cool you down and will do the same thing that sweat does– without being sticky.

Hair

If you have long hair, get it off the back of your neck. I used to put it up in a bun with a bun former, but now I just use claw clips. They’re cuter and easier! Seriously, this will help you so much. Get the hair up and away from your skin, you’ll feel so much better.

Hand Fans

I always have a hand fan with me, but not one of the little battery operated ones. I’ve tried a lot of those! I even took one up a mountain once, and it was the only reason I survived. But they never provide the same level of breeze that my folding fan does.

I use this one because it’s cute, and you can get cute ones for a couple bucks on Amazon. I do prefer fabric to the stiff paper ones, just because they’re a bit more durable- I’ve had mine for years now. It’s good.

I’m also not a huge fan of those fans that go around your neck, but I’ve seen many people enjoying them. If they work for you, great!

Hydration and Electrolytes

Carry water with you when you go places, and if you’re gonna be out for a while doing anything strenuous, take some electrolyte tablets with you. I like Nuun because I think they taste good, but there’s lots of brands out there.

There’s no one mineral called electrolyte, just so you know. Electrolytes are a group of minerals that includes sodium, potassium, and chloride as the primary (or significant) electrolytes. Electrolytes are important because they have a natural positive or negative electrical charge when dissolved in water. This electricity is how your nerves transmit information and how your cells make your muscles contract, so low levels of electrolytes can cause some serious issues. Different electrolyte imbalances have different symptoms, but common symptoms include nausea, fatigue, confusion, tremors, muscle spasms (cramps), and dizziness.

If you’re feeling those as you’re moving around outside, get somewhere cool, drink some water, and either eat some food or add electrolyte tablets to your water. This will help stabilize you quickly!

Skin Fold Sunburn Prevention

Everybody should wear sunscreen, period. End of story.

But if you’re applying sunscreen by yourself and you have skin folds, it can be a pain to reach them! This is especially true for any folds that form on your upper back or around your upper arm.

These areas can burn and be very painful, especially if you’re in swimwear or a sleeveless top. It’s also VERY easy to forget that these areas need sunscreen!

If you don’t want or don’t have someone to help you apply those areas you can’t reach, spray sunscreen can be a way to get those areas. If you don’t like the spray or want heavier coverage with a cream, then use a lotion applicator!

If the stick style doesn’t work for you (like if you have shoulder mobility issues), the strap style asks for a different range of motion. If you can’t find one that works for you at a big box store, look at a pharmacy. These are often sold as disability aids or for elderly people with a reduced range of motion.

But honestly, one of the most important things about this is just knowing your body. Know where your skin folds are and think about how they move as you’re applying sunscreen. Get underneath them- as you move, those areas can be exposed to the sun, too.

So yeah, that’s my best advice for beating the heat while fat. If you’ve got other tips, feel free to share them!

[hoshigray]

hey love can i request brothers bff cho and how he's just down bad for you 🤍🤍🤍

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg wait, i fucks with this baddd

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - masturbation (m!) - oral (m! receiving) - tit/breast fucking (m! receiving) - cowgirl position - pet names (baby, darling, honey, sweetie) - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - implied that reader is big chested - Choso crushing on you hard, lmao - mention of drool/spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

Choso knew better than to be attracted to you, the sibling of his best friend ever. 

Your brother and Choso have been buddies for a while, meeting during his part-time job at a burger joint as servers and finding out they have so much in common. Being older siblings, lovers of rock music, and relating to so much together, the two often hung out after work and became pretty good friends. Just two people vibing out in each others’ company, and there was nothing to make this relationship complicated!

“Hey, Choso, I’ve told you about my sister before, right?”

You greeted him with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Choso!”

Well, that is until you came and absolutely rocked Choso’s world. 

You were the younger sibling of two; a college senior comes home biweekly to take care of laundry and then drives back up for your education. By your gorgeous face and alluring figure, Choso was struck by your image from the first time his eyes ever laid on you. You were such a kind spirit, always so sweet to him and others surrounding you — you’d want to hang with the boys whenever you had the chance while you were visiting, which was hellish for the brown-haired man. 

You’d laugh along with the jokes, making Choso’s heart skip uncontrollably, and the way you’d lean to him when you’re sleepy watching a movie with them pushed the guy on the verge of shutting down. He could never get tired of how you’d say his name; it came out so dear from your lips as if he could be under your spell at any second. And it didn’t help that you’d walk around the house with shorts on, the lower fringes constantly threatening Choso on whether they’d creep up to see the mere crevice of your ass.

As said before, he knew better than siblings of best friends were off limits. However, you were becoming too much for him. It’s been half a year of seeing you, and there has never been a day or night where you haven’t popped up in his head one way or another, particularly when his mind would think of you in the most…lustful ways.

He throws his head back, reminiscing about you and your outfit from the pub. The way your breasts were tucked in nicely by the window of your bodycon dress, yet the cleavage was too tempting for his eyes not to notice. The dress sculpted your curves dangerously, Choso fighting the urge to put his hand on your hip to feel your clothed skin. And your lipgloss made your lips shine; every time you spoke to him was a test for him not to kiss you right there in front of your brother. It was so cruel how you looked so good for him!

He was spending the night at yours after a night out drinking with you and your brother, using the basement bedroom to sleep. Sleep evades him; however, he uses this space to deal with the erection he’s been dying to indulge in this entire night instead. His teeth pull the bottom of his shirt, dark jeans discarded to the floor, and his hand pumps his shaft that’s freed from his boxer briefs.

He grunts at the memory, teeth grinding while he strokes his long cock. Precum exuding from the urethra slides down to the base and wets his fingers. “Fuuck, Y/n,” your name is said in choked moans, the horny man fisting himself in a faster motion. Brown eyebrows are trenched, and his abdomen begins to flex. Shit, I’m so close, so cl—

“Choso?”

He never in his life froze still in an instant, and his heart goes to a complete stop, too. No way.

“Ca–…May I come in?”

No words are said from either side, so Choso’s heat immediately shifts to icy cold when he hears the door open, and your frame is all he sees. You’re still wearing the beautiful dress, yet your face is molded into an expression of utter anxiousness. Sweat goes down Choso’s forehead, oh fucking shit!

“I came down to see if you were okay and needed anything,” your eyes were downcast to the floor, chewing on your lips during this awkward situation. “But…I heard you say my name and…”

Oh, it was so over for him. All Choso could do was stare at you in dread, entirely shocked that you saw him masturbate at the thought of you! You were fidgeting with your dress, perplexed about how to handle this predicament, too. He was so done for; not only was he thinking of you, the sibling of his best friend, and using said thoughts of you, but now you are aware of how he pictures you in his fucked up head! Yup, he can never walk into this house again. “S–Sorry, Y/n! I’ll just go and—“

“Can I help?”

Again, his body goes rigid mid-stride of getting off the bed after pulling his underwear up. ….What?

“I mean, can I…help you with that?” You meekly walk into the room and close the door behind you. “I am the one who made you like this, so…I’m okay with it if you are…..”

Choso blinks, too alarmed to make any movements. “But, your brother…” You’re quiet for a few seconds before you spook him by taking steps in his direction. He gulps thickly when your figure crawls on the bed, too close for his brain to comprehend. You take his hand with your soft ones and bring his fingers to your lips to kiss, and his breath hitches when you suck and lick his digits. The boner stuffed in his briefs twitches at the sensation of your tongue running against the underside of his middle finger and sucking on it. 

You peer at him, “What about him?” That is what you say before lifting your dress to remove your panties. And just when Choso thought his life was about to be thrown in the gutter, you flipped the script on him again.

In his head, Choso knew he shouldn’t be doing this.

“Mmm…Mmahh! Oh, Choso, you taste so good…”

But in his heart, he couldn’t help but give in to this situation.

You were situated between his legs, ripped him off his briefs for you to suck on his glans freely. Your tinge dances around his cockhead to prompt more come to ooze out of his urethra, and your hand slides up and down to stroke his member. Choso whimpers under your touch, and shivers crawl up his spine as you lick from the base to the tip before sucking hard.

“Fuuck, Y/n,” he grips the sheets, barely containing his hips to buck to your lips. “Your mouth, it’s—Hssshh…!”

“Mmm?” You blink before releasing the tip with a sound. “What about my mouth, Choso baby?” Fuck, the nickname made the pink of his ears creep down to his nape. “You feel good?” He nods at your question, and you giggle before sucking one of his balls, resulting in a sharp gasp from the brown-haired man. “I’m so happy you are…”

Hallow cheeks take in his cock, busying your throat with his length that has you humming blissfully. You massage his waist as you bob your face up and down, and shaky breaths leave his lips while his legs jolt with every swish of your tongue.

“—Shhiiit, oh shit, hnnn,” he can’t do it, you were driving him crazy. “Y/n, you’re gonna make me…Mmmm”

You pick up on his cue, withdrawing your lips from him to maneuver and pull down the top of your dress. Caramel eyes widen at the sight of your breast spilling out, forgetting how to breathe when you bring them to wrap around his long dick. You move them around to please him, taking the tip back into your mouth to slurp his leaking essence that trickles down to your chest. 

“Mmaahh, go ahead, darling,” you place kisses on the tip, Choso looking at nothing but your mounds swallow him with every stroke. It takes mere seconds for his orgasm to sneak up on him, his jizz coming out to fall and trickle down in between the rifts of your tits. “There you go, let it out for me…” the way you looked at him with half-lidded eyes took his breath away, especially with the spit that connects your gloss-shining lips to his spit-and-come coated shaft. 

And when he’s finally inside you? He’s too far gone to even think of being away from you.

“Ohhh, hoooh!! Chosooo, y’u feel soo good!”

Your dress was cast-off entirely, your nude body bouching up and down on Choso, his cock bullying the inside of your cunt. It’s been a solid fifteen minutes shared between the two of you exploring each other’s bodies, and sweaty skin exchanges heat from the constant motions. And come from rounds prior spill from your chasm as you ride on Choso’s dick with a rhythm.

He has his hands on your hips now, using you to keep him steady before he gets too lost in the feeling. Not that it hasn’t happened already; the man moans with every clamp of your walls around him, tightening around him with every graze of your g-spot. You wail for him up top, and your aroused sounds have to be the cutest things he’s ever heard. And the way your tits jump every time you plummet down to the base of him, it’s an image that will haunt him for the rest of his days.

“Tahhh, ughh, Jesus Christ…” He’s too sensitive right now; he just came not too long ago and is now being chased down for another one. “Y/n, sweetie, too fast, slow d—Ahh…!”

You hear him and titter, “Yeah? Want me to slow down, huh…” You bring your hips up excruciatingly slow, listening intently to the shaky sobs from the brunette as you get to the very top. And then you smack yourself down with haste, sharing a yelp at the rushed sensation. You do it again, “Think you’re about to cum again, huh, honey?”

His hands now come to your ass to grope with the flesh, and you twitch around his girth at the hunger. “Yeahhh…”

“You gonna be good and cum for me again, right?” Another snap of your ass crashing down on him. 

“Yess, baby,” he throws his head back to the pillows, his head pounding so hard it could kill him. You can feel him pulsating within your slit. “Almost there…Ohh–ooo..!”

You bite your lip, relishing at the sight of him being desperate for release. You lean forward to him, your breasts meshing with his chest as you snake a hand around the back of his head. You place your lips on his, and he doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate.

The kiss gets hotter when you dial up the speed, tongues swirling and exchanging spit as the friction becomes a lot more pleasurable than before. Choso’s ears ring the deeper you bring him in to kiss, humming on his tongue as you suck on it with harsh rocks on his length from scraping places you couldn’t reach. He’s so fucking addicted to you; his composure long deteriorated the moment he first put his cock inside you.

Choso bucks himself to you in sync, his climax coming in just a few ruts. He howls into you, and you wail along as your hips don’t rest until you’re hit with a crescendo of your own. Contracting your vaginal walls milks him, exerting his load into you again to spill and flow down your sticky frames. 

You two heave and pant in each other’s mouth before the kiss is broken, and the string of saliva is evidence of you being one with the other. Although the both of you are dazed, you smile at him before kissing his nose. “Glad I helped you out, huh?” He chuckles weakly as you lay kisses on his chin.

KNOCK!! KNOCK!!

And just like that, the two of you are frozen yet again. Wait…

Too late, the bedroom door busts open with a bang, and in comes your brother!

“Yooo, Choso, my guy—hic,” your brother stumbles inside the room, still a bit loopy and drunk. “Wanna go up and hit a quick blunt with— ah…”

The heat shared between you and the man below you switched to silent torture, awkwardness suffocating the three figures staring at each other. And this is the exact reason why Choso should’ve known better than to mingle around with you…

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[nagichi-boop]

Gerald’s Journal - Disability representation

I read scans of Gerald’s Journal and I have to talk about it. Not the lore or anything like that, but the disability rep. I didn’t expect to cry reading this.

Please don’t look at this post if you don’t want to be spoiled about what’s in this journal. If you do want to read it, you can find scans here. Credit to this Twitter/X thread for the images I’ll use.

I don’t have much to say about this image, but it is nice to see Maria using a mobility aid. It’s not often we get representation for an ambulatory wheelchair user.

I do wonder about Maria’s relationship with her parents. They weren’t happy with Gerald’s wish to bring her to the ARK so that he could research a cure for her, but they let her go anyways? Maybe Gerald got some sort of order to get her to go or Maria decided she wanted to go with him, but it seems a little odd to me. I’ll expand on this a little later.

Quote from right page: “[Maria] is growing into a lovely young woman. It breaks my heart that someone as bright and energetic as her is diminished by disease. There are no visible effects, and I’ve caught my fellow researchers muttering to each other, doubting her illness. It is infuriating. I find all my reason and restraint vanished when she’s slighted.”

Oh my days, I’ve never felt so seen by a piece of media and it just so happens to be my special interest video game. I am tearing up again thinking about this. Maybe that’s silly but to have a character express his frustrations about people doubting the invisible disability of his grandchild is so touching. I wish people in my life were more like Gerald. People with invisible illnesses get doubted so much because we “look fine”, but it’s so invalidating to have your struggles questioned just because the symptoms aren’t as visibly obvious.

Quote from left page: “[Maria] doesn’t know the full scope of what [Shadow] has been designed for, but she understands he will be under tremendous strain. She’s helped me conceptualize a number of accessories that will help focus his power and aid in his mobility.”

So we now have confirmation that Shadow’s air shoes and inhibitor rings are akin to mobility aids. I headcanoned this but I didn’t know they’d flat out confirm it like that. My favourite character is canonically disabled physically (and I’d argue mentally given his PTSD). I don’t have much to say about this besides being happy that my favourite character is now even more relatable.

It also makes a lot of sense for Maria to help create them because she has experience with her own disability and can offer a perspective that an able bodied person couldn’t. That and it makes Shadow’s connection so much stronger. His mobility aids were designed by Maria. He didn’t just help her with her disability - she helped with his. He wouldn’t be able to function without what she and Gerald created for him.

Quote from the right: “Back on Earth [Maria’s?] parents have been blessed with another little girl. They’re already run tech(?) and she has none of the genetic markers like to [Maria’s] condition. While this was welcomed news, the unspoken commentary was received loud and clear.”

(I am assuming they’re talking about Maria’s sister, but I guess they could also be talking about her cousin.)

So did Maria’s parents see their new daughter as a replacement? If I’m reading that correctly, it’s so sad. Do you think Gerald told Maria about her sister/cousin? If she did know about it, I bet she was excited to meet her. But I get the feeling that her parents back home didn’t really care about her anymore given what Gerald says in his journal. It hurts that much more when you consider how much Maria wanted to go home, perhaps even return to her family.

I feel like all of this makes Maria’s death more tragic for both Gerald and Shadow. For Gerald, he did so much reason and sacrificed so much in order to try and find a cure for Maria. He supported her when no one else did. And from his perspective, despite her illness and the judgement of others, including potentially her own family, she was still positive. And yet she was killed, and he only found out about her death because of a report that had her name on it (I think anyways?).

From Shadow’s perspective, she is the person who gave his name meaning. Despite most being distant and weary of her, she was immediately friendly to him and helped teach him about the world. She helped created the devices used to reduce his pain and control his powers. He quite literally carries part of him with her. She was his sole reason for existing for a long time. And despite being this super supportive, kind, loving person, she was killed. I can imagine him being mad at Gerald for messing with his memories, but I figure there’s a degree of understanding, even if he doesn’t fully agree with what Gerald did. The difference between them both is Shadow’s purpose shifted beyond Maria while Gerald’s did not. Anyways, I digress - this post is about disability rep, not Shadow lore.

I love this and Dark Beginnings for their direct and indirect disability rep. My love for Shadow and Maria has only grown and I have a deeper appreciation for Gerald. I wish more people were as understanding as he is towards people with invisible disabilities.

I don’t really have a conclusion. I just really wanted to yap about the journal entries.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Dorm leaders(plus jamil) with a fem hunter of Artemis reader, basically reader had however many years ago prior to ending up in twisted wonderland had sworn herself to Artemis and became a hunter of Artemis, Reader is good at hunting, archery, fighting etc, she's also immortal and can only die in battle and oh yeah Reader had sworn to never make romantic relations with men as Artemis is goddess of virginity and had sworn off men herself and has all her hunters do the same since 'men are just distractions'.

If you're not currently taking requests you can just ignore this

Artemis Hunter Fem Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

In Greek mythology the goddess Artemis stood for the pure maiden, the respectful hunt with archery, and childbirth. Back in your world, you are the closest thing to a child for the goddess. A nymph devotee blessed with her power and foresight. Where you are now is considered the belly of the beast surrounded by men who want nothing more than to have you. So the battle for your chastity and independence vs their determination and power begins:

Idia Shroud

“Ah!”

“This is not a time to be crying Idia, you’re the one who challenged me!”

“To a battle match IN GAME! I can’t compete with you on a physical level!”

“Too bad!”

It’s truly a match of brawns and brains according to Idia

Him with his constantly evolving technology to chase away contenders 

And you with your physical aptitude to avoid and cleverness falter any obstacle he throws in your way

He falls in love through his screen

Witnessing your sweetness through Ortho 

And your heroics through cameras he’s placed around

Is it so bad he wants to drag the hero to the underworld

He can’t decide if he wants to drag you to depravity or to fuel your image of a hero

So he settles to one day trap you

Maybe then he’ll decide

Jamil Viper

“I’ve been warned about snakes such as you!”

“And what was said?”

“That you’re not nearly as much fun to hunt!”

He often finds himself feeling the need to antagonize you

To engage in a ‘hunt’ with you

It’s not a physical one 

More so mental

It’s an unspoken game between you two 

And he’s not willing to back down

But neither are you

He absolutely adores playing basketball with you

Seeing the sweet create a shiny sheen over your body

It makes him excited 

You’ll weirdly feel sympathy for him

Something about being bound against his will 

Cruelly reminds of the poor animals poached 

He comes to realize this 

And he plans to use this to win

Rook Hunt

“You’re skill is far better than mine.”

“Don’t fret I’ve been blessed by Artemis. I may not have magic but I do have my bow.”

“That you do...”

“So…would you like a head start?”

Of course there's only two things can happen when two hunters meet

hunt the same prey

Or Hunt one another

Since Artemis prides herself on hunting within reason and not persecuting the weak

You decide to do the latter 

After all from the beginning he’s decided to hunt for the one thing Artemis absolutely asks that you protect

So it’s only natural that there will be sparks whenever you to decide to release your arrows

While in archery you might outclass him 

it’s easy to forget

He’s familiar with the terrain, with the presence of magic

He’s got just enough to properly consider a threat 

But he’s so determined and so sneaky its a wonder if you’ll realize it in time 

He hopes not 

But at the same time he knows the hunt is about to conclude when the doe knows to run

So on second thought he hopes you do

[jolalibrary]

20. rainier grey

frankie morales x f!reader | epilogue of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.8k chapter warnings: dad!frankie. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. flirting. they're no longer idiots. an: the end

prev chapter | series masterlist

read on ao3

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

You sure you got everything from the house, baby? I think so! Does this mean you're giving the keys in?

Unpacking another box, you slide a photograph onto the shelf, right next to his. You smile, shifting it, trying to make your things look like they belong as much as his.

Evidence of you already slotting in. Books sitting with his, plants finding homes in corners that look as though they were made for them.

Yeah. Unless you've changed your mind? Not even a little bit. Good. Because I already handed them in. And what if I had said I thought I’d forgotten something?

The bubbles in the corner appear, fluttering and twitching, until they vanish. You roll your eyes, grabbing a tissue-wrapped small artificial cactus, placing it, and tilting your head as your phone vibrates.

You know I’ve checked the place twice. Did the sex chair go into storage okay, by the way?

Even from here, you know he snorted. A breathy laugh, one that has and will always make your lips press together before sliding up into a smirk. You giggle at it, imagining him trying to suppress it if he's with people. Shaking your head at the image as you see him typing.

You gotta stop calling your office chair a sex chair. Well, the only thing that happened in it was that. Gonna drive now, you menace. Hurry home, baby.

Sighing, you rip the tape from the underside of the box and flatten it, staring at the wasteland of boxes that have taken over his living room. Despite the chaos, you feel like you're finally home, for the time in a long time.

A thing you'd whispered to him when he'd hooked his leg over yours in bed this morning.

Steam billowed, carrying the scent of spices, tomatoes, and herbs blending into the air as you hear the front door open.

It brings a smile, tugging at the corners of your mouth, even though this should feel ordinary by now. A thing you should be used to, it feels like the first day all over again.

No more boxes, all unpacked, places for everything and newly learnt routines that you know to listen for.

Head turned to the doorway, hearing one thing after the other landing in the bowl: Keys, wallet and two thuds of his boots being removed.

It's all a routine now, something normal. Dinner is divided between whoever arrives home first. If he gets home first, he starts it, the two of you relying on the board on the wall to keep track. The one that's a vibrant array of colours—butterscotch orange, dinosaur green, and rainy day blue—highlighting the various shifts, jobs, and school pick-ups your month has in store.

This week, it’s a lot of orange. Things are picking up, with more word getting out about Frankie’s business and what he can do. The reviews are trickling in, and you know he’s already quickly outgrowing the summer house in the back garden. You commented on it when the two of you made the decision, something he assured you would be fine. You still agree that paying for two homes wasn’t a wise choice when he was already taking a risk.

Risky—a word you could never use to describe him. But a word you let him have, relenting, melting into his arms as you bid goodbye to the office he made you, with the promise of a better one in the future.

Now, standing in the kitchen that used to be just his and is now ours, you count in your head the seconds until his arms slide around your middle, his mouth pressing a kiss to your head.

“Smells good.”

Turning your head, fingers sliding under his chin—you steal a kiss, and another, sliding your digits around his jaw before they’re tangling in his hair.

“Could get used to this.” You hum against his mouth, murmuring a what that makes him smile, smirk, right up against yours. “You in our kitchen.”

“Well, it has been months now—I’d hope you’d be used to it.”

Shrugging, running his hands up down your arms, he steps back and leans on the counter. On the days when he beats you home, you bring home stories of Harry, customers and the random paint name you’ve found that you make him guess the shade of until he gets it right. Tonight, you ask him how his day has been. A mundane question, a thing that arises every day and yet the answer is never the same.

He talks about another enquiry, how the photos of your old office space, in the place you once called home, had inspired another couple to get in touch. And you try not to smirk, to wear a knowing smile, but instead nod, stirring and grabbing plates as he folds his arms and keeps his gaze on you.

A thing you thought would have lessened, but hasn’t.

“You need my help with this one, or?”

Shaking his head, folding his arms—looking you up and down as he traces his tongue across his bottom lip.

“What?”

“We said if we did this you wouldn’t try and do it all.”

You might not groan outwardly, but you do inwardly. His brows raise as though knowing so too, a thing which almost drags a laugh out of you. Almost.

“Come here,” he says, hand extended, finding your slides in as he drags you close. “I appreciate you, you know that?”

“I do.”

Good, he whispers, brushing your cheek with his thumb—the roughness of it making liquid heat spark in your stomach as you bite the inside of your cheek.

“You want a hand dishing up?”

Shaking your head, you kiss his wrist. “No. Go change—you can’t do it all.”

His snigger stays in the kitchen with you, long after he’s left to go change.

Luca told me something interesting at drop off.

Not sure I want to know.

Apparently, we’re getting a dog?

Little shit. No. He asked me and I said I’d think about it.

Well, apparently he thinks that Saturday when we pick him up we’re going to get him a dog that lives at our house.

Fuck.

Fuck indeed.

Are we against a dog?

It takes a second for the squeals to calm down.

Your arms may be scratched, and you may have wanted to sob as you tried to build the crate on your own, but the joy thrumming inside you as Frankie wrestles the puppy and Luca screams with laughter makes it all worth it.

It feels right that there are two bowls on the kitchen floor, both sitting on a plastic mat covered with paw prints.

It makes the home feel complete, even with a wet patch on the rug, even with your new shoe marked with tiny teeth marks, and even though you're exhausted beyond words.

Grinning, you lean back on the couch, watching Frankie pretend to bark and growl as the puppy tries to nip at him. The two alternate between rolling around, evading each other, the creased laugh marks on Frankie's nearly enough to make you get on the floor and join him, just to brush your fingers against them.

Instead, you teasingly poke the boy next to you. “Luca, what do you want to call him?”

Mouth sliding from side to side, Luca shuffles and bounces along the sofa before his head comes to rest on your arm. Frankie shifts to playing a version of tug-of-war. “Tyler.”

“Tyler?” Frankie asks, pausing to stroke the retriever's ears.

Luca smiles and then beams. “Like tyrannosaurus.”

Somehow, you suspected you should have seen that coming.

“Okay, well, Tyler needs to go to the toilet. Do you want to try and take him?”

Luca, nodding and smiling, taps your arm. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course I will.”

As you stand, you catch sight of Frankie beaming up at you, warmth flooding your cheeks and ears at the sight of it.

What are you doing for lunch, baby?

Well, I was going to treat myself to a coffee and maybe a sweet treat. But what are you thinking?

I was thinking of letting Tyler out, bringing you fast food and sitting in the office at Harolds?

Oh, it’s been a while since we’ve done that. I like that our roles have reversed here.

I know. Do you know when Harold will let you have lunch?

Delivery is almost away, and then I just have to do a few bits.

I’ll be there in an hour. I’ve missed your face today.

Sounds good. Maybe you should have spent more time with it this morning then, than between my legs.

I have zero regrets about how I started my day.

“Have you seen the yard—I think that’s enough room for Tyler, how much bigger can he even grow after a year, and look here...”

Your fingers loop in between his, tugging him, practically dragging him with you to the kitchen window—the slightly overgrown grass and white fence greeting the two of you.

It’s the eleventh house the two of you have seen. Fingers brush over his thumb as he follows you around the rooms in a house that’s spacious, with three bedrooms, and two-and-a-half baths. It’s airy, light—ridiculously bright.

But it needs work.

A thing you can tell he’d thought on sight, even if the most he’s done is make a snort or a hum.

You suspect Frankie is paying more attention to the things wrong with it, than what is right. Missing some of the things you point out to him, too busy calculating square footage as the two of you walk around it. Ignoring your opinions on floor-to-ceiling bookcases and hallway mirrors, if the two of you could get a bigger bed than you both have now.

You do think he catches that you think Luca should have the largest room—your reasoning dripping from your tongue that he needs space as he grows up, that you both have a bigger closet in the second biggest.

“—And, we'd probably need to get him one of those beds soon, the ones where he has space under for a pull-out or a desk. The closet is decent, but we’ll have to get him some drawers too.”

Your fingers trace along the doors of the closet as he blinks, coming back to you, to the house, to the room.

“Wait—what…”

And you smile. Not just with kindness or joy, but with everything. Push it outwards, hoping it stretches its warmth out over the entire room, hoping it’ll surround him, maybe he’ll allow it to wrap itself around him as you tilt your head.

“I think this should be Luca’s room.”

Walking towards you, the heels on his boot sounding on the wooden flooring. “Baby, you can’t think that. For one, this house is—“

“Perfect,” you finish, palms finding his cheeks, thumb stroking the hair on either side of his lip. “It’s perfect, Frankie.”

You can see it, even if he doesn’t say it: it isn’t.

You’ve suspected for a while that he has an idea of a home the two of you should have. He’d whispered it to you three months ago in bed, head buried in your neck, fingers fanned over your hips as he talked about garden size, a pool, a workshop and even an office.

In some capacity, this house ticks some of those boxes. It has a spacious kitchen, it has a decent yard and a pool that needs a deep clean. There’s a room that could be an office, but would most likely be a spare bedroom for friends, for Benny or one of your own.

And, you’re grinning. Watching him smile in response, all radiant like he thinks you’re the reason the world rotates.

Then he says it, the thing which has been ticking behind the scenes. Unsaid, unspoken—ignored as though it doesn’t have its own pulse. “You deserve better.”

You don’t mean to, but your forehead wrinkles, brows knitting together as your smile fades into a thin line. Feeling it, etched and written across your face as shame works across him. The evidence of a battle he’s having with himself—something churning, twisting as you slide your hands down his neck and loop them at the back.

It’s clear now it’s been needling him—likely making his chest tight, wrapping vines around his chest, all thick and full of spikes, as he rolls his neck and sighs.

Tilting your head, trying to keep your tone level, you whisper, “Baby, what do you mean?”

Because the realtor is downstairs.

Not wanting to cause a fight—a scene. Your skin prickles as you momentarily panic that you’re whisper isn’t a whisper, when his mouth opens, but no sound leaves it. Worry tangles in your head, and in your throat as you move closer. Wanting more words to appear, to conjure, tell me, tell me, tell me, burning a hole in your tongue as you need him.

Your hand brushes his cheek, forehead smoothing out—concern replacing earlier confusion. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The edges of your mouth twitch. “And, I love this house.”

He snorts, shaking his head as you glare.

“Don’t… don’t do that, Francisco. Don’t think for me because you’ve concocted some image of what I want.”

Letting his eyes hang down, he sighs. “I’m not–I’m not doing that.”

“You are. You… you’re looking at each house as if it has a checklist to meet—like it’s being measured against something.”

“Doesn’t it?”

You sigh, dropping your hands from his face. And you miss touching him the moment you do. Wanting to place them back, have him take your wrists and put them back, but you’re already folding them, shaking your head as you stare out the window.

“You can’t be mad at me for wanting the best for you.”

You snort this time, narrowing your eyes as you shoot him a glare that says you can, and you will.

“If, and I mean if we take this house, I… I want, no, I need to do a lot of work on it. Because you deserve the house of your dreams, and admittedly, I can’t afford to give it to you. Because houses are fucking expensive, but I can make it for you.”

Biting down on your lip, you glance, catching the sight of him running a hand over his face. Fingers pinching the inside of your arm as you try not to let tears bubble, swim and then fall.

“I… I don’t want that.”

“What do you mean?”

You look up, blinking away the tears. Seeing the doubt spread across his face, like he wants to rewind the clock—take back ever saying you deserve better.

And you don’t want to fight, not with him.

“Frankie… I don’t want it to be my dream house, I want it to be ours.”

He takes a step towards you. “I know.”

But you raise your hands, not pushing him back, but not inviting him in either.

“But you don’t. You’re not picturing a doorframe we can keep measuring Luca growing up. You’re not thinking of warm Sundays with our friends around the pool—and you’re not seeing the lick of paint needed so our bedroom is a little dimmer, so your eyes don’t burn from all the off-white.

“I don’t need an office—I like working with you and at Harold’s. And, yes, I’m not walking around thinking you won’t have to do anything to this house, because, of course, you will. You’re good, you have an eye. We wouldn’t even be thinking of buying something bigger if you weren’t. But, you started a business a year ago—we can’t afford perfect. But we can buy good and make it perfect. If, and when you stop thinking of me, and instead us.”

Brushing a hand over his face, he takes a moment. Swallowing a sigh, an annoyed grunt. His fingers itch at his forehead, pushing strands of hair under his hat before he drops it and stares at you.

“You really want this one?”

Nodding, you roll your lips. “What about you?”

And so he looks around. Hands digging into his jacket pockets, walking in slow footsteps around the room—

Hoping you've helped him see it, picture it, with all your earlier ramblings.

Where the wooden trunk he made will go, the bed you just talked about—the prints of stars, spaceships and galaxies. He glances out of the window, spotting the long drive and the trimmed grass—the quiet neighbourhood that he could teach Luca to ride his bike in.

He feels you come up behind him, arms sneaking around his waist, his hands clutching your fingers as he smiles.

“You want to take another tour, Morales?”

He smiles, nodding, before he turns in your arms so he’s facing you, clutching your face as he kisses you. One which is full of sorry’s and love.

He lingers his palms on your face, just for a fraction. “Will you tell me all the other things you picture as we walk around?”

Grinning again, like before. One which would rival the sun and the beauty of the full moon on a clear night sky.

“Sure,” you whisper, taking his hand, leading him out of the room that in several months will be his son’s.

I’ve packed our case and it’s in the shower in our en-suite, so do not turn the water on without looking. Luca’s is half done, but just need you to help me with a few last-minute bits?

Can I ask why our suitcase is in the shower or am I missing something?

Luca is being nosy. He goes into our bathroom but not into the shower. Trying to keep a surprise from him is harder than you think when I apparently “have lying face”.

You do look very suspicious when you lie.

Good job I don’t have to lie for a living.

Is he behaving?

We’ve baked cookies for tomorrow—even if he thinks it's for a movie day. And he’s currently using my iPad to talk to Sam.

I keep hiding in rooms with boxes so he doesn't ask me things.

Rainy, baby.

I know, but it's only a few more hours, right?

Yeah, promise. Sam called me earlier, and said she has managed to get Monday off so she can meet us there on Sunday—says we should pick somewhere in the park so she can surprise him properly.

Do you want me to get to thinking and then text her?

If you don’t mind baby? I should be done here around 7.

Sounds good. Gives me something to focus on until you're home.

You sure you're doing okay?

I’ll be better when we tell him tonight, I’m feeling really bad about lying to him even if it’s for a good reason.

I promise you, the moment he realises we’re going, you’ll see how it’s worth it.

I know. Plus, the promise of you in Mickey Mouse ears is really keeping me going.

The photo of you getting off one of the rides is what is keeping me going.

Mean.

But I love you.

Love you too.

Peaceful—that’s how you’d describe it.

Condensation slips under your fingers, sliding under your wrist, pooling at the watch strap as you hear him shouting something to someone as he makes his way over. The music is quieter over here, the loud voice that attempts to synchronise with the lyrics seems less shrieking, and more full of harmony.

You were only hovering on the outskirts to call to see if Tyler was okay, and then you found yourself lingering. A moment needed, not questioned or protested.

You know that's why he’s been biding his time. Watching, eyes flicking to you just in case you beckon him to come. Now, you smile as he approaches, it pulled from you with so much ease it's reactionary at this point, no thought. Just a-Frankie-smile, all his, hopefully forever his.

The once-warm air has now cooled, whipping the fabric around your frame as he saunters over.

“Wondered how long it would take you.”

Snorting, he takes a sip from his glass—letting it wet his lips, admiring the same view you have been for some time.

Slipping his hand around your waist, you move closer with ease. Hip moving to hip, cheek coming to rest on his shoulder—contentment filling your bones when he brushes his fingers up and down your back.

“You cold?”

“Not now.”

And he smiles, light—it coming with ease now that he has you back by his side.

“Missed you.”

“That’s because you’re a needy boy, Butterscotch.”

Snorting, he buries it in your neck—light, airy—before pressing a kiss to your head and turning to watch those moving on the dance floor. The soft glow of twinkling lights shimmering in his brown, fingers teasing up and down his white shirt.

The moment is only punctuated by a distant sound—a shift in melody embedded into the night breeze. It takes a second, one far too much before you recognise the tune, the song. Smirking to yourself as you remember your passionate rendition in his car the other week. An updated version to the one over a year ago. The look the same, though, all grin, all teeth and almost crinkled eyes.

You feel him turning your head, eyes meeting his.

It’s simple, uncomplicated—a movement that seems rehearsed as you move, leaning, resting your head on his chest as you feel a soft sigh escape his lips.

“When we do this, we’re eloping.”

Brow arching, he smiles. “When?”

“Like you’re not desperate to slip a ring on my finger, Morales.”

Snorting, resting his chin on your head, you take a comforting breath.

Hearing him swallow, you look at him, finding his tongue flicking against his teeth as he stares ahead at the party. “What if I was… desperate?”

Smirking, finding his eyes now on you, even if his head is facing forward. “Well, Frankie, maybe I’d be desperate to say yes.”

Have I told you today you’re beautiful?

Are you texting me from across our hotel room?

I am. I can see your smile in the mirror.

How the roles have reversed. You look good in a suit, have I told you that?

Told me I look good in a different kind of suit today.

Oh baby, you always rock that one very well.

Can’t believe I’m marrying you today.

Can’t believe there’s a chance I’m going to be married by the real Elvis today.

I hope he says uh-huh-a-huh.

If he doesn’t, I say we annul and try again.

You do really look beautiful.

You should take a photo with Will’s camera—I guarantee I’ll get sauce down me.

You and white.

It’s actually rainier grey, but maybe I should have worn butterscotch.

Not sure I’d have survived that. Already pretty close to falling apart at the sight of you now.

Shut up and come here and kiss me.

AN: The End.

God, I was emotional last week, but as much as I am this week, I'm just grateful. Grateful you've all followed, that I got to tell this exactly how I wanted to. But, mainly, that you let this pair into your hearts. I love you, thank you.

[the-phantom-peach]

how do you do anatomy? it’s something i really struggle with OTL

and all of your poses seem really fluid!! and good!!

also your handwriting is so pretty 👀

UNFORTUNATELYYY the more you practice the more you improve (booooo!! 👎🍅🍅💥) but ofc I can’t say I’m even that great at anatomy either. I still use references whenever I can because you can never be too sure ^^

So I can’t really give a lecture on anything anatomy related bc shrugs shoulders buut I can show you how I trace effectively (in a way that actually teaches something I think). This is how I learned how to make fluid poses and how to connect body parts. Let’s start with a pose and make a lower opacity frame of it as well.

There’s two ways I go about tracing a pose. Option 1: Structure first, Action second. I’ve posted about this method before but it’s mostly just making a frame for the later details. Pretty boxy and rigid, no details.

Then (without the bg image) add more fluid details using reference image to see where movement is most evident.

Then boom!

Option 2: Action first, Structure second. Kinda obvious. Focus first on where movement appears, avoiding overly straight lines and too many details.

Then add the structure necessary to complete the pose.

In the end you get pretty much the same image from the same pose in either option so it’s up to you which one you prefer.

Aaaaaand that’s how I trace for a pose! It’s great practice for anatomy as well as it forces you to ignore details and look at overall shape. Tracing isn’t evil if you use it effectively, but avoid using other artists work without permission since that’s when plagiarism muddies the water. Use photos to practice quick studies and soon you’ll be drawing things without a second thought!

Also thank you! I hope this helps at least a little

[wildemaven]

strangers : climax | dave york

pairing: dave york x fireader word count: 6307 content warning: 18+ blog; established relationship, workaholic Dave, Soft Dave, miscommunication, implied/ alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn't know this), Dave's phone deserves its own warning, mention of food and alcohol consumption, a moment in a dressing room where reader inspects her reflection/self image judgments, smut (oral f receiving, fingering, semi public sex, kissing after oral, public affection, some praise if you squint), angst and sad feels, somewhat jealous Dave in a kind of joking manner, lots of tears, reader is mentioned wearing a dress and jeans- but zero description features, no age given but it's implied she's at least over 30, no y/n, established relationship, this is au- no Carol or kids, if I missed anything let me know notes: it's finally here!!! I'm so sorry it took so long to get this chapter out into the world. I was working through lots of writing blocks, kids, travel, and sickness. But it's finally here!!!! This one is a doozy in so many ways but I'm so excited for it!! I'm so grateful for everyone who takes the time to read, share, comment and like each chapter of this series. I'm sad it's almost over!!

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It’s almost sadistic. Taunting every single fiber of your being as each chord of the melody, so perfectly orchestrated, looms over the hotel bar. 

Your body betrays you. So easily giving in to the song's familiarity as each word reverberates through your chest. Flashes of Dave dressed in black, spinning you in front of your closest family and friends drowned out the urge to ask for the song to be skipped. 

The liveliness of the crowd pouring into the dimly lit space helps block out the music. Your fingers swirl around the condensation slowly settling around your drink that sits untouched on the mahogany bar top. Your mind sifting through the day's events leading up to this moment, where you’re sitting alone, annoyance raging in your veins, in a dress you're starting to regret buying. 

*

Lunch was relaxed and pleasant. The oceanfront views of the small cafe were something straight out of a movie. The weather was warm enough to enjoy the patio dining, a subtle breeze cutting through periodically. The ocean swells breaking masked the bustle of beach goers and passing cars. It was everything you had wanted to experience in this beautiful city.

Dave had been fully present since the intimate moment you both shared back at the hotel. More than he had been the entire trip thus far. Keeping you close to him, his hands never leaving you once stepping out of the room. As if to silently say I’m all here with you and I love you. 

You relished in the closeness of him. Internally screaming with increasing avidity at his electrifying advances all afternoon. 

Pulling your chair closer to where he sat so his free hand could nestle between your thighs. Too focused on twirling the pasta around your fork between discussing the most current events Dave had read in the morning paper while waiting for you to return from your walk. 

Growing and falling Stocks. Government scandals that could trickle down and affect parts of his job. National affairs of all levels that jumped out to him. All things you hadn’t really kept up with until meeting Dave, were now things you looked forward to listening to him talk about and giving your input with your own perspective. 

It's when Dave starts discussing something about sports or sports related that throws you off balance. Not necessarily so much in what he’s saying, but in what he’s doing when he’s saying it. 

“So if they draft him this year, he’ll be a starting rookie…” Dave says as he shifts forward in his chair to adjust his position, hand slightly shifting where it still rests between your legs, his pinky sliding up the crotch seam of your denim with an ample amount of pressure. 

“I’ve got money on him this season…” Your mind is too cloudy to even focus on what he’s saying. 

An instant jolt of arousal splinters across your body, you use your napkin to hopefully muffle the moan you nearly choke on. Oh! It’s deliberate, Dave’s expression collected and unphased as he carries on, continuing to drag his digit up and down the thick layer of fabric. 

“You okay, Honey?” He smirks, applying a little more weight behind his touch, before directing his attention to the server passing by the table and signaling for the check.

“Mmhmm— y-yeah! I’m fine. Great!” Your voice pitches at an unusual tone, frantically nodding in response as you wring the napkin between your fingers trying to not succumb to the pleasure currently building in your core. 

It’s a tragic feeling when his hand abandons the heat of your thighs. His focus now is on inspecting the bill, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and tucking the proper amount of cash into the server’s book. 

“That’s good.” He says all blasé as he looks at you with deadpan expression, situating his wallet in place again. 

“Oh my god— Dave! You are the worst!” You toss your napkin at him, shaking your head as you laugh at his flirtatious behavior. 

*

A proper casualness flows between the two of you following lunch— a familiar domesticity that had become so foreign to you. It now almost seems too far-fetched to think things have been strained in the last few months leading up to today and this seemingly perfect afternoon with Dave. 

A stitch of guilt begins to weave through your mind as you take in Dave’s unreserved laughter and the way he looks so, extremely happy. Maybe you were premature in believing that there was anything wrong to begin with. 

There’s a liveliness to Dave that has felt so rare to witness as of recently. No signs of stress. No closed off demeanor. No inkling of any distress that threatens to disrupt a marriage you so desperately desire to keep intact. 

He’s remarkably your Dave— through and through. 

The sun becomes far more dominating as the day passes. It’s fiery intensity has you squinting as you step out of the cute little ice cream shop you dragged Dave into after lunch. 

Thankfully you’re more than prepared. A pair of dark sunglasses now perched on the bridge of your nose and the light fabric tank you opted for thanks to Dave’s attentive nature for planning, always checking the weather forecast incessantly as he sips from his morning coffee.

It’s no surprise at the influx of tourists that crowd the sidewalk as you both amble about. Your arm wrapped around Dave, his free hand gently resting at the nape of your neck, both of you working against the heat to keep your ice cream from dripping down the cone. 

There’s a silence that hangs around the enjoyment of the summer treat, but it’s not uncomfortable. People watching and window shopping paired with brief moments of sweet banter have seemed to reignite the flame that had slowly begun to dwindle. 

“Woah!” A swarm of teenagers rocketing by on skateboards out of nowhere has you stunned, several of them nearly knocking into you. 

“What the fuck!” Dave’s quick like reflexes immediately turn on and he’s pulling you into his chest as the last few of the trailing skateboarders roll by. “Get off the sidewalk before you hurt someone, you punks!” 

“Yeah yeah! Fuck off old man!” The last of the bunch, a typical backwards hat wearing unphased teen, yells over his shoulder raising his middle finger as he skates off into the distance. 

“You okay?” Dave asks, giving you a quick once over. 

“I’m fine. They didn’t hit me— just startled me more than anything.” You assure him. 

“Still— those little assholes almost sideswiped you. And that little fucker calling me an old man?” Dave grumbles, following your lead to continue walking despite wanting to track down the group and give them a piece of his mind. 

“Easy, they’re just having fun. If I remember correctly, you too were once a little asshole. There’s a laundry list of stories your mom has shared with me to back that up too.” He scoffs at your comment, knowing exactly which stories his mom has divulged to you about his wild adolescent years. 

Your favorite being when a senior year prank almost resulted in suspension and losing scholarships. Dave and a few of his high school friends had decided to toilet paper and egg the principal’s home one night. The group of teens had thought they pulled it off until they came to school and their pictures were plastered in every classroom— security cameras were not taken into account while planning such a prank. Dave’s parents caught wind of the incident and the missing rolls of TP from their home and forced Dave to turn himself in. Dave confessed as a lone prankster, adamant that he didn’t know who the other students were in the images, resulting in tutoring lower grade classmates the remainder of the semester and a few weekends of community service. 

“I’m not an old man.” He murmurs against your temple, pressing his lips to your warm skin. His hand settles into your back pocket directing his attention to his almost finished ice cream. 

“Didn’t say you were.” Grinning at his annoyance. “Your mom earlier— How is she? Everything okay?”

“She’s good. Everything’s good. Just checking in. Making sure we’re settling in okay here— you know how she is.” It feels like he’s saying a lot without saying much of anything. 

“Yeah— definitely sounds like her. Feels like it’s been forever since I’ve talked to her. We should invite them over for dinner when we get back. Proper catch up— share about our trip with them in person.” You look at him, his head nodding along at the suggestion. 

You’ve always had a close relationship with his mother, Carol. Weekly trips to the farmers market and coffee dates became a regular thing after you and Dave married. Family dinners took place once a month, rotating between each other’s houses or restaurants. Carol never wanted to be one of those overbearing mother in laws, always making sure that you and Dave didn’t feel suffocated by her and Dave’s dad’s presence. 

“Okay. I’ll umm— I’ll call her when we get back. See what her and dad’s calendar looks like. I’m sure they’ll jump at the chance to get together, since our busy schedules haven’t seemed to line up in the last few months.” 

“Perfect.” 

There’s a beat of silence that follows making plans with his parents. Like there was more he wanted to say but left it unsaid. You don’t push for more and let any needling thought dissolve. 

“How was it?” Dave points to the remaining milky soup that’s settled into the top of your semi soggy cone. 

“It was delicious.” You tell him, then lapping at a few random drips racing down your wrist with your tongue, savoring the last of its salty sweetness.

“Let me have a taste of it.” He says, pulling you both out of the main flow of people walking behind you. 

“What? You don’t even like this flavor, Mr. Vanilla is the only flavor that truly matters.” You playfully mock his go-to choice of a single scoop of plain vanilla, not even a punch of vanilla bean or a sprinkling of chocolate chunks— he’s a simple man. 

“Maybe my taste buds have evolved?” He counters, pulling you flush against him under the shade of a store awning. “Give me a taste.” 

Everything around you fades to the background, it’s just the two of you. Dave’s lips molding to yours. His tongue gently skims over your lower lip, silently seeking entrance. 

It’s unhurried and thorough. A stark contrast from the chilly sensation that still lingers from the frozen dessert and the heat emanating from the way Dave’s tongue languidly traces over every bit of surface he can reach. Dizzying your senses, your mind fully immersed in the way he still tastes of sweet vanilla as he explores every detail of your mouth. Lapping at the remnants of the melted salted caramel that coats your tongue. 

It’s vulnerable and thrilling— feeling so right and fully present together. 

Your ice cream cone falls from your hand, crashing hard on the cement walkway, giving you the freedom to wrap your hands around his neck and relax even more into the kiss as Dave guides you through it. His hand squeezes your ass through your denim pocket, securing you against him. His other hand cradles your face as he swallows the small moans you produce when he nips tenderly at your bottom lip. 

“Dave—“ Is the only coherent word you can think of when he finally breaks the kiss. Your fingers tighten around his short hair as you float back to the ground. 

“I like the way it tastes on you. Might be my new favorite flavor.” He smiles, releasing small puffs of his breath over your lips. 

*

It was the first shop that caught your attention, the front display had you stopping in your tracks. Your initial interest to merely window shop, a signal to Dave that you were interested in the possibility of checking out more of their inventory. 

“Sweetheart? You doing okay in there?” Dave asks cautiously, as if to not scare off any potential decisions you might be deliberating over from behind the velvet curtain of the dressing room. 

It’s nothing new, a song and dance you’ve been through before— turning and inspecting from head to toe. Your mind in an epic battle with the reflection framed in front of you, dreading anytime you step foot in anything that resembles a fitting room. 

Except this time you’re not tearing apart every little thing about what you’re seeing, finding all the negative reasons as to why this particular dress isn’t working.

It’s the complete opposite, because you love the dress and you can see yourself wearing it on many occasions without a doubt. 

An ambered hue that reminds you of autumn when the leaves turn, and Dave spending hours in the yard gathering pile after pile while you bake a seasonal pie, watching him from the kitchen window. 

The tiered tulle fabric plucks a peculiar scene from your memory. Its flowy and dramatic silhouette is reminiscent of the dress you had worn to last year’s CIA Gala. Dave kept you close for the entirety of the evening. Your arm wrapped around his as he talked with colleagues, some new whose names you wouldn’t remember and others who had slowly worked their way into a more permanent place in your lives with regular dinner parties and monumental celebrations. Dave’s hand planted on the small of your back, his thumb drawing soft shapes where your dress strategically exposed your back, you were his grounding force among a sea of highly regarded men and their significant others.

“Hey- is everything okay?” Dave’s head now visible as he pulls the curtain back just enough to check in with you, his hushed tone barely audible over the upbeat music that the trendy boutique has playing through the store. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You say flatly as you continue to inspect your reflection, the hang tag with the bold asking price of the dress held between your restless fingers.

“Wow— Sweetheart, you look… Wow!” Speechless. Dave stands stunned behind you, taking in every bit of you, completely captivated.

“Yeah? It feels like a lot. I have a dress back at the room I can wear instead…” You say, watching the arduous battle he’s sorting through in his mind, his smitten smirk doing wonders to help settle your dress turmoil.

“No— No this, this is perfect. I love it so much. You definitely should get this one.” Dave says persuasively, a beat of sensualism exuding from where he now stands with his chest flush to your back, his hands attempting to bypass the layers of fabric in search of somewhere to efficiently affix himself to you. “Reminds me of that dress you wore to the Gala last year. You looked stunning. So much so I couldn’t keep my hands off of you the entire night. Pulled you into that closet and fucked you while the awards ceremony carried on.”

“Hmm, I remember.” You smile, your stomach flipping at the way he so vividly remembers that evening too. “But the price is a little much though. Like too much.” Dropping the price tag, allowing it to hang freely from the dress instead of mocking your sticker shop distress.

“Don’t worry about the price— it’s fine.” You gasp when he connects with your skin, a shiver zipping up your spine, his lips fervent and assertive as they work up the expanse of your neck.

Dave’s hand catches your head as it tips to the side, allowing him more ample space to roam. Your skin in his teeth triggers a soft whimper in your throat, your eyes fluttering closed as you get lost in the sensation of him.

It’s a blur of calculated movements on his part, your body receptive to his smooth control, moving along with ease until your back settles against the wall of the dressing room. The carpeted floor envelops the sound of him falling to his knees. Dave’s eyes glazed over as he stares up at you, their usual golden hue dappled with gleaming eagerness. His hands fumble with the hem of the dress skirt briefly, delighted when he finally manages to breach the abundant layers of fabric. The brush of his fingers on your skin as his hands skim up your legs is all the forewarning you’re given before he’s pulling down and removing the lace panties that you’ve been soaking through all afternoon because of him.

“Dave— what are you doing?” A breathless question, one you don’t really need a response to as he looks up to you one more time, his pointer finger resting on his mouth then lifting your leg over one of his shoulders. 

He takes in the sight of your glistening wetness, his mouth watering at how you’re dripping for him. The urge to taste you is strong and he gives into it fully. 

From above all you can see is bunched fabric and brown tousled locks when he connects to you, his angular nose pressed into the patch of hair that covers your mound, that first tentative kiss to your sex delicate and heady. The soft pressure of his flat tongue has your eyes rolling back when he starts to lick up and down, savoring the deliciously sweet taste of your arousal. Desire forging through your body with a deep buzzing intensity. 

“Oh fuck! If we get caught— Ah!Shit. Dave— Baby, that feels amazing—” You purr in what you hope is a hushed tone, tilting your pelvis just so, a dire need for a climactic release. 

Dave’s tongue moves in slow circles, teasing and flicking at your clit. His ministrations causing a slow tingle to build in your lower abdomen, steadily increasing in strength as he goes. 

“Ma’am, how’s everything going in there?” The store attendant asks, completely unaware of the lewdness taking place on the other side of the current. 

“Mmhmmm! Great! The dress is p-perfect!!” Your voice shoots up an octave when Dave inserts two fingers into your fluttering pussy in one quick thrust, moving them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue on your aching clit. 

“That’s so great to hear. If you need any help, don’t hesitate to holler.” She says before you hear the clicking of her boots retreating. 

You are squirming and quietly moaning, your knees nearly buckling as the fiery pleasure gains momentum, completely lost in the blissful sensation.

“You hear that, Baby. She said don’t hesitate to holler. Doing so good for me— I can never get enough of you!” His fingers hitting that delicious little spot that makes your toes curl, over and over again. 

“Dave— don’t stop!” And he doesn’t. 

He senses the tension building in your body, your walls seizing up around his deft fingers, intensifying his movements, his tongue lapping at every inch of your folds as your arousal runs down his hand. 

“Baby, I'm coming.” You say right before your jaw goes slack, a silent whine only noticeable to you and Dave fills the small space. Your vision dusted in white, a euphoric sensory cloud of light bursting behind your eyes. 

Dave catches you when it becomes too much to stand, whimpering at the loss of his fingers seated so firmly inside you. 

Your skin is dewy. Glowing under the small dressing room light. The beads of sweat running down the length of your neck, sliding down the slopes of your breast, migrating somewhere below the fabric of the dress. 

Dave catches a few salty drops, his tongue trailing over your clavicle makes you aware that he has removed himself from the underside of the skirt. 

You taste the brininess and the sweet tang of your arousal when he licks into your mouth. Zero time to catch your breath, his tongue tangling effortlessly with yours. 

“Hmmm— I take back what I said earlier. I love the way you taste— only flavor for me!” He says smirking against your tingling lips. 

“You are such a menace. But I love you for it.” You pull him in for one last chaste kiss. 

“I love you so much, Sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead, then bends to pick up your discarded panties, stuffing them in his front pocket. 

“Seems like it would be wrong to not buy the dress after that little move you pulled.” Giggling as you begin the process of undoing the back zipper. 

“Knew that would help sway your decision.” He says with an impish grin and wink. 

*

Your reservation has come and gone. 30 minutes to be exact. Misery and frustration fill your veins as you stir the tiny straw in the watered-down concoction. The cocktail-soaked cherry, normally your inaugural sprinkling of how well the drink was mixed, now lays overlooked and forgotten at the bottom of the glass.

The bartender, who checks in with you like clockwork every 10 minutes or so to see if you needed a refill albeit your obvious lack of consumption from the original drink he made, has shown zero annoyance over the fact that you have taken up space in not one, but two chairs at his bustling bar. Your small clutch placed in front of the empty seat reserved for your husband who was supposed to meet you here an hour ago.

*

Dave and you had made your way back to the hotel after purchasing the dress, giving yourselves plenty of time to get ready for the evening Dave had planned out.

It was hard to keep your hands off each other. a magnetic effervescence had you contemplating whether to call off the reservation all together despite Dave’s ecstatic adamancy to make it to the reservation on time. Both of you managed to work against the intense pull, only sharing shy glances and brushing of limbs standing side by side in front of the bathroom mirror while getting ready.

Dave didn’t shy away from flattering you as he helped zip you in, causing you to fight against tears that threatened to ruin the dramatic makeup that paired perfectly with your dress.

I love you. You are so beautiful. How did I get so lucky? I can’t wait to get you out of this dress later.

Dave’s hand molds to yours, a corner of his mouth lifted as you eagerly drag him from your hotel room. Taking advantage of the privacy the small offshoot hallway provides from the main corridor of the floor, he draws you back to him and without hesitation he kisses you with a fiery tenderness. 

“Alright. We need to go.” He says, breathless and not all that convincing. 

“Do we though? We could just swipe the key, make our way back inside, order room service— you can get me out of this dress. See what I may or may not be wearing underneath.” You murmur against his smile, your tongue sensually gliding over the underside of his upper lip causing him to release a heavy sigh, as if he really wants to do exactly just that. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Sweetheart. And as enticing as all of that sounds— amuse me and go along with what I have planned. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back here and I can slowly undress you.” He counters, leaving you little room to dispute his well thought out plan for the evening. 

“Alright, Mr. York. We'll play by your rules.” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Dinner. Then straight back here—“

A soft buzzing cuts you off. Dave’s body tenses against yours, releasing you from his hold to retrieve his phone from his black slacks. 

“I need to take this— it’s work.” His demeanor completely shifting from his usual sweet carefree self to closed off and mysterious. 

“Okay. Call them later then. They can leave you a message.” You reach for his hand to continue to make your way down to the restaurant. He pulls away, promptly taking a few steps back, his focus still on the number flashing on his phone screen. 

You’re not sure what hurts more. The fact that Dave is putting work first once again or how he so quickly recoiled when you reached for him. 

“I can’t. I need to take it.” He says, finally looking at you with pleading eyes, and you hate how much you so willingly give into his need to brush off the plans he was only moments ago so eager to get to. 

“Dave— Fine.” Releasing a heavy sigh into the narrow hallway, tightening your grip on the small purse that holds your phone, lip gloss and key card, doing your best to mask the resentment and defeat simmering just below the surface. 

“I’ll be quick. Go grab us a seat at the bar and I’ll meet you there when I’m finished.” He doesn’t give you an opportunity to get another word in, turning to let himself back into the room. 

The bottom of your dress floats in the air, kicking out with each step you take, making your way to the main hall of the floor in the direction of the elevator. Further from Dave. Closer to being alone yet again. Suppressing your swirling emotions for the time being.  

Dave’s hushed voice echoes down the walls. Never actually making back into the room before answering the call. Out in the open. Zero care that his wife is still within earshot. 

“Hey, Ashley… Yeah, she just left. I told her to just wait for me at the bar.” 

You stop dead in your tracks. The swish of your dress is now still at your feet, hanging in its normal wearing state. Your blood runs cold as your brain rapidly tries to digest what you just heard. 

Your heart clings to how easily Dave had been so present and affectionate since this morning. That sinking feeling of your suspicions being revealed. I knew this whole day was too good to be true. 

Everything feels like it’s narrowing. The hallway. Your vision. Your airway. Smaller and smaller. 

Something compels you to keep moving. Further from Dave. Closer to being alone at the bar, away from this man who you no longer find recognizable at this moment. 

*

“Excuse me. Can I get a Scotch, neat, side of water please?” Dave’s whereabouts are no longer unknown to you, leaning an elbow onto the bar as he orders himself a drink, his other hand resting on the back of the chair that has kept you comfortable while you wait. 

“Sorry, that took longer than expected.” Dave apologizes, sealing it with a kiss to your cheek. 

You hum a lackluster response. Gnawing at your bottom lip as you focus on the dilapidated napkin you’ve been rolling and unraveling, folding and unfolding for the umpteenth time. 

“You okay?” Dave asks, his hand moves to rest on your back but now it’s your turn to recoil from his touch, leaning forward before he’s able to make contact. 

“Yeah— I’m great.” You say flatly, only briefly looking at him to deliver your annoyed smile, then back to the crinkled napkin that’s now serving as an absorbent to pooling condensation. 

“Here you are sir.” The bartender interrupts, placing the single malt and ice water on the bar, Dave nods his thanks. 

You don’t have it in you to pry or question his tardiness. So you continue to sit in silence, watching Dave out of your peripheral properly dilute his drink so it’s suitable for sipping. 

“You’re not wearing your ring?” He points out to your bare ring finger then takes a light sip of the diluted scotch. 

The fingers of your left hand pause, fanning out so you can inspect the observation yourself. The usually adorned finger is stripped, lacking your wedding band and engagement ring.  

“Oh— I must have forgotten to put it back on after we went to the pool…” You hadn’t realized how naked it felt all day, the fingers of your right hand soothing over the indent skin, recalling when you had tossed the jewelry haphazardly into your bag yesterday. 

“You don’t think these strangers will get the wrong idea?” You sense an attempt at humor in his voice, only he has failed to read the room. His government skills not sensing you have zero interest in Dave’s untimely decision to be a humorist. “A beautiful woman, alone at a bar, without her wedding rings— Don’t want—“

“Excuse me— can you put my drink on his tab? He’ll be taking care of it, along with your generous tip.” You alert the passing bartender. You swivel your barstool just enough to reach around Dave’s solid form to grab your purse, then swivel in the opposite direction to stand. You tuck your purse under your arm, before delivering the irritation that has finally begun to boil over. “I think the only stranger confused about our marriage is you, Dave.” 

“Wait— Where are you going?” His hand gently clasped around your upper arm, halting your departure. 

You glance down at where his hand holds you, his thumb actively moving in soft circles over your skin, trying his best to distract and diffuse the air between you. Unfortunately, too little too late. 

“I’ve been sitting here waiting for you, Dave— for a fucking hour. I’m going back to the room.” You pull your arm from his grip and leave without another word. 

Dave somehow manages to catch the same elevator, but you don’t bother acknowledging his presence as he stands on the opposite side of the small metal cabin. The other riding passengers don’t suspect you two even know each other or the emanant rift that is unfolding between you, just two lone hotel guests sharing a lift to their designated floor. 

2 stops allow for the other guests to get on to their respective floors, leaving only you and Dave left to continue the ride to the final stop. 

The striking silence is met with electric chords spilling from the small speakers in the elevator. The familiar tune feels like an old friend you’ve been reacquainted with after months apart. Those first few lines wrap around you, embracing you fully— I’ve missed you so. The chorus drawing your gaze to where your husband stands slouched against the mirrored wall, looking equally as somber as you feel, his eyes already drawn to you in the same manner. 

A smile tugs at your lips, a fleeting moment of remembrance to that night so many years ago. That night where Dave was more than just a stranger in a bar. He was your future. Your home. Dave without a doubt was the best thing to happen to you. 

The memory of meeting Dave is interrupted by a soft ding and the doors slowly unveiling your intended destination. 

You stalk towards the room with a graceful backbone, a beautiful facade to how you truly feel inside, keeping yourself together with each poised stride. Dave takes his position two steps behind, vigilantly in tune with your body language. 

There’s a sense of relief that overcomes you the second the door closes and the lock clicks. No longer needing to keep a composed demeanor to prying eyes. No longer allowing the hurt to fester and torment your heart in a stealthily manner. 

They flow furiously once they start. Tears streaming down your face. Silent sobs cracking in your throat. 

You move about busily, grabbing and tossing, too lost in your own blurry thoughts to even notice Dave standing there watching you. 

“What are you doing?” Dave asks, perplexed by the way you’re flinging item after item into your suitcase that lays open on the bed. 

“You’re a smart man, Dave. I’m sure you can figure that out.” Grabbing a drawer’s entire contents and dropping it messily into your bag. 

“I get that you’re packing. Why are you packing is my concern.” He takes a timid step closer towards the streamline process of you moving about. 

“I’m going home. I’ll catch a ride to the airport. Book a new flight when I get there. I can have Jacey pick me up when I land.” A plan you had thoroughly developed before Dave had arrived at the bar. 

“Wait— you’re going home? Why? What’s going on?” He steps directly into your path, hindering your progress. 

“I don’t know anymore, Dave. I thought this was what we needed. Some time away together. Away from work. Away from our normal lives. Just us reconnecting. But it seems like this whole thing was just wasted effort.” You try to wipe the tears, but they just continue to fall. 

“Baby, you’re not making any sense right now.” He knows he should allow you space, but the urge to pull you into him is stronger. 

“It’s been months. Months of you working long hours. Months of missed dinners and late nights at the office. Months of being alone at night wondering if you’re okay and when you’ll be home. Months of worrying that something is happening between us and trying to figure out how to fix it.” Each convulsive gasp for air you struggle for fans across Dave’s neck. His arms tightening around you, every word slicing through his chest. 

“Fuck—“ He murmurs, his cheek pressed into the side of your head, your tearful confession not anything he expected to hear tonight. 

“If you didn’t want to c-come with me— I would have u-understood.” Your shoulders jostle in Dave’s arms, your own arms hanging at your side, still holding a few loose garments in your fists. 

“What? No! Baby, I wanted to come. I want to be here— with you.” Dave pulls back, enough so you can see the sureness in his eyes. 

“What about her? Wouldn’t you rather be here with— h-her?” Your voice cracks at the thought of Dave with someone who isn’t you. 

“Her? What are you talking about?” 

“Ashley— She’s the important phone calls you’ve been taking. The work that can’t wait. She’s why you’ve been so distant with me for months.” It feels like glass the minute it leaves your mouth, shattering across your tongue, nearly choking on the tiny little shards. 

“Honey, you think I’m having an affair?” A nod is all your weary state can give. An affair— it’s the only thing that makes sense to you right now. 

“I heard you talking to her several times since we got here, Dave. The last time being when you told me you had to take an important call and you would meet me at the bar before our dinner reservation.” 

You’re not sure what you expect him to do now that he’s been caught. Confess to his actions. Tell you everything from the beginning. Get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. It was a mistake, it will never happen again. 

What you don’t expect is to see a single tear fall down his handsome face. To see a look of rich tenderness in his eyes. Warmth in his touch as he wipes away the wet worriment painted over your face. 

“Baby— Fuck, I’m so sorry. To say that this trip so far has been stressful would be an understatement. Nothing I had planned for this trip has gone right— even after months and months of preparation. And you’re right, they weren’t work phone calls— not all of them at least. I’m so sorry for making you feel like I didn’t want to be here— I do. I want to tell you everything, but I think it’s best if I show you first.” 

“Show me what?” You ask him. 

“Come with me so you can see for yourself. And if you still want to go home afterwards, we’ll leave tonight.” Dave’s head tilts, his eyes searching yours hoping to relieve any reservations you still might be internally feeling. 

“I look like a blubbering mess right now.” You use what you now realize are a pair of socks to wipe any streaks of makeup smeared on your face. 

“No you don’t. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He says, his lips molding over yours are a sobering reflection of his love for you. 

Not much else is said on the trek back down to the lobby, allowing Dave to take you to wherever this mysterious place is. 

There’s a nervousness about him, his jitters, while subtle, are loud and obvious. Holding his sweaty palm against yours. His other hand actively fidgeting in his pocket. Head tilt back, then forward, stretching his neck from side to side. 

You lean into his shoulder, tucking your free hand under his arm, hoping to ground him a bit. It helps, you feel him relax instantly into your touch. His lips pressing to the side of your head, Thank you. 

“Dave, where are we going?” You ask as you walk in an unfamiliar area of the hotel. 

“Almost there.” He says, his fingers squeezing in small bursts against your hand. 

It’s a long hallway covered in an elaborate wallpaper with rich details of floral patterns and bold hues. It's dimly lit due to the fact that there’s zero windows, the only light is given by the mid century style sconce fixtures lining the walls. Potted plants strategically placed around sculptures and empty velvet chairs. 

You’re met with two large wooden doors as you approach the end of the hall, but it’s the woman standing in front of them that has your attention. She’s beautiful, actually she’s stunning. Her smile is so warm and inviting, beaming at you as you and Dave walk closer to where she stands. It’s as if she’s been expecting you, waiting diligently for your arrival. 

“Good evening Mr. and Mrs. York. My name is Ashley.” 

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

I’ve seen a number of imagines where due to interdimensional shenanigans or being liminal, Danny Phantom is more durable than most people in the dc dimension.

And those are cool and fine and all, but imagine if it was the opposite?

Danny Fenton gets punched twice and dies.

Which is fun on its own, but Danny is half ghost. He’s cursed to an existence where he can never truly be alive or dead for all eternity. Meaning that after a little while, Danny is back at it again, on the streets of Gotham in the same fleshy body he just died in.

He has to turn into ghost form first, but he can turn invisible as a ghost, so it’s fine, no one sees him glowing before he heads into an inconspicuous alleyway to return to life.

The blood stains would be a problem, but it’s Gotham so no one bats an eye.

Except for the bats.

(Warning: some death, corpses, and gore ahead)

—————

It always haunts Duke when he fails to save someone. He’s a hero now, and that’s part of the gig, but still.

He keeps wondering if maybe he had been faster, or stronger, or just a moment sooner, maybe then the civilian would’ve lived.

He sees the corpse in his nightmares, a reminder that he wasn’t good enough. It’s not rational, but Duke can’t get the image of the dead teen out of his head- the lifeless blue eyes, the dark hair, the…

… is that him?

No, it can’t be. It looks a lot like the kid, but his mind must be playing tricks on him or something. Because he saw that kid die. This kid, across the street, they must be someone else. Maybe they’re related?

Duke hears a commotion down a nearby alley, and leaves the mystery for later.

—————

Cass is concerned about this dead body.

In her line of work, it’s normal to see a lot of corpses. What’s strange about this one is that it makes no sense.

It’s splattered on the ground like it fell from a skyscraper. The tallest building in the area is five stories high.

The body is too fresh to have been from a while ago. It doesn’t show signs of having been moved. There weren’t any helicopters in the area recently it might’ve fallen from.

She surveys the area again. Perhaps this is a trap?

No security cameras or bad guys in sight.

She turns back to the body-

It’s gone. Only a pool of blood remains, undisturbed.

No one could have snuck past her. Something strange is going on.

—————

The bullet Jason shot shouldn’t have done this much damage.

The teenager was accidentally hit in a hostage situation. Usually Jason doesn’t miss like that, but the bullet should have just nicked him. A bandaid should have done the trick.

But this kid is leaking blood like a fire hose. It’s absolutely gushing out.

You never realize how much blood a human body has in it until you see it spread out all over the floor.

Jason puts pressure on the wound, damn the bad guys he is not having a dead civilian on his hands if he can help it.

He grabs a tourniquet from the first aid pack he carries. Fastens it around the kids arm-

- and the kid’s arm flops off. Not normal. Either Jason has just gotten Superman-levels of strength, or something is wrong with the kid.

The kid’s rapid breaths devolve into quick gasps. The blood from his wound slows to a trickle. Jason feels the kids heart go from pounding to nothing-

Fuck.

Instinct driving Jason more than any sense of reason, he puts the kid on his back to do chest compressions.

Jason pushes down. He hears a loud Squelch. His hands go through the kid’s torso.

Double fuck. Jason might know CPR, but he doesn’t know how to deal with this. His panicked-brain remembers he’s in a fight right now, and Jason turns towards the people who held the kid hostage.

They immediately surrender.

[ameliablakesblog]

Let the Consequences Be Damned- Lando Norris

Happy Day 1 of Smutmas!!!!

Lando Norris x Fem! Reader Words: 2.3k Warnings: Swearing, SMUT 18+ (Minors DNI), Masturbation (Male & Female), Semi-Public sex (if you squint) Summary: He shouldn't want her, she was his PR Manager, if anything happened there would be consequences. But what happens when she finds him in a compromising position? A.N: Here's day One! Hope you like it :) Make sure to follow along for the rest of the 12 Days of Smutmas!!

Lando couldn’t stop thinking about her.

His PR manager. The woman sent from the devil himself to make his life a misery.

Y/N was stunning. From the way she smiled to the way the room would literally light up the moment she stepped in. Lando was hooked.

And he couldn’t do anything about it.

Here he was, sat in the meeting room supposedly listening to the media planning for the upcoming month. Yet his eyes would naturally draw to her opposite him. She’d gone for her own clothing today rather than the papaya uniform, but to be honest even if she wore nothing but a cotton rag, she’d still be the most stunning woman on the planet in his eyes.

Today she had obviously decided to ruin Lando’s mind. Wearing a grey mini dress with some black heels, she looked like sex on legs. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He cursed McLaren for having glass tables as he was able to notice everything. He noticed the way she’d run her palms down her thighs when she was speaking, or the times her thighs would clench together as she repositioned herself into a more comfortable position. 

Every time she moved, her dress would ride up a little higher on her thigh and Lando had to restrain himself from leaning forward to get a peek. He wondered what underwear she was wearing. Was it a thong? Was she even wearing one?

God, he shouldn’t be thinking about this.

He was at work for Christ sake. And now he was hard as a rock. 

He shuffled in the chair to try and conceal his hard-on before dragging his eyes away from her to the meeting board. On the screen was statistics or something, numbers were never Lando’s strong suit. He let his mind wander, trying to think of subjects not related to his PR manager who was now biting a pen.

Fuck.

It wasn’t supposed to be seductive, but how come everything she did turned him on?

He decided to think about Twitch. Maybe he could stream tonight? But what game?

Suddenly, a thought of Y/N on her knees underneath his desk came to mind. He let his mind wander to the thought of her sucking him off while he played his games. He could practically see it. Her messing with her tits while she took him in her mouth all the way. The noises she’d make when she’d tug on her nipples and the way she’d let him cum on her tongue.

The noise he let out sounded agonising.

The room went quiet.

Fuck. Did he really moan out loud?

He looked up to all eyes on him, including Y/N’s. She stared at him; eyes wide- almost knowing?

He looked away and to the others in the meeting. He needed to leave. If he stayed in this room much longer, with the thoughts he’s having, he’d probably end up making a twat out of himself.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to-to leave, I’m not feeling good” He stood up abruptly and started to make his leave, it was an obvious lie, but he didn’t care. He needed to go jerk himself off- it was the only solution so he can get on with the rest of his evening. 

He started wandering the corridors, searching for a quiet place. It was fairly late at the MTC, so it was mostly quiet, which Lando appreciated. He couldn’t think of anything worse right now than talking to people, when whenever he closed his eyes, he could just keep seeing the image of Y/N sucking him off.

He stopped his walking and groaned. He’d thought about it again. His hard-on was throbbing underneath his jeans, and he had to give it a discreet squeeze to ease the pain. 

He couldn’t wait much longer, to his right was a seminar room which after knocking- he found empty. He shut the door and quickly made work of his trousers and boxers. His erection slapped his abdomen and he hissed at the feeling. He let his mind wander carelessly this time as his hand stroked his cock. He gave himself a harsh tug and whimpered at the thought of Y/N bent over the desk. Him fucking her over the desk and the noises she’d make. Would she moan loud?

He continued to fuck his hand faster, imagining it was her hand instead of him. His breathing erratic and head thrown back against the chair. He was in his own world, groaning at the filthy thoughts of his PR manager.

Unbeknown to him, Y/N had shortly left after Lando. She was concerned about him. She knew he hated meetings, yet he always endured them for her. But today with the way he left so quickly had her worried. Plus, the moan? What was that about? Did statistics really turn him on?

So she followed him down the hallways, he seemed fine- although very rushed. When he stopped suddenly you halted, maybe he didn’t want to speak to her? Even though she was his PR manager; it didn’t mean he needed to tell her how he was feeling. When he quickly darted into the room next to him and slammed the door, she let the worries slide. Something was wrong, maybe she could help?

She moved to the door and went to knock when she heard another moan. That was definitely a moan, right? She started questioning the noises she had heard from the driver this evening. The noise she had just heard sounded pleasurable; but the one earlier sounded almost in pain?

When she heard Lando moan her name she jumped back from the door.

Was that her name? she could feel the area between her legs start to pulse at the thought of what Lando could be doing in there.

It should be wrong, having a crush on Lando. She made the decision when she got the job that she’d never risk her job.

But then she just heard him moan her name again.

Consequences be damned, she needed to know what he was doing. Maybe she had read the situation wrong, maybe something bad had happened, maybe Lando was calling her name because he was in pain. 

She opened the door a crack to allow herself to see in. She gasped at the sight of Lando; sweaty and flushed as he jerked his cock while moaning. She could feel herself becoming wet and for a moment contemplated walking away- this was a private moment; she shouldn’t be spying on this.

But then he whimpered and rolled his thumb over the tip of his cock, collecting his precum before using as lubrication to fuck up into his hand. All those previous thoughts left her mind as she entered the room, closing the door and locking it. Lando hadn’t seen her enter and she bit her lip at how submissible he was. 

Time to have some fun.

Lando was in a world of his own. All he could think about was Y/N. His mind racing through images of him fucking her. He whimpered at the idea of her moaning his name. His eyes opened lazily to watch himself fuck his hand. But when he saw Y/N stood opposite him he jumped back in surprise. His hand paused his movements as he stared at her. She wasn’t directly looking at him per say, she was focused on the grip he had on his cock. He whimpered from her gaze. From the way she was looking at him all he could see was lust and he jerked slightly into his hand at the possibilities of what could happen now. 

Y/N lifted her gaze to match his and she bit her lip. Her glossed lip rolled between her teeth and Lando was so caught up in watching them he almost missed Y/N bending down slightly. He watched the way her hands crept under her dress and up towards her centre, fascinated on the way she pulled down her pink thong to the floor. She stepped out of it before picking it up. Her lip stayed between her teeth as she looked at her thong before looking over towards him. Lando couldn’t breathe. He had started to stroke his cock again without realising but now he couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to. He watched Y/N walk over to him before situating herself between his legs. She placed her hands on his things before bringing them up towards his shaft, scratching her nails up his legs on the way. He jerked at the feeling, eager to feel her hands on the place he craved. When she stopped to look at him, silently asking for his permission- he could’ve finished right then. 

She smiled innocently before licking a strip up his shaft. He moaned at the feeling. Anyone could’ve heard him with how loud he was being, but he didn’t care. Y/N had just wrapped her glossy lips around his tip and started to push down, hollowing her mouth to take him further in her mouth. He threw his head back, trying to control himself. All he wanted to do was take control and fuck her mouth senseless, but she had the upper hand- he was completely in her mercy. She continued to bob her head, letting her hand stroke the area she couldn’t fit. He heard her moan and looked down, jaw going slack at the sight in front of him. She was looking up at him while sucking on his tip, but her free hand was between her legs. She was fucking herself while giving him head. He bucked his hips up at the thought, causing her to gag slightly. He should’ve felt bad, but the noise sent him closer to the edge. 

He could hear the noise of her wetness between her legs, the muffled moans she was making around his cock and the noise of her finger fucking herself was pushing him closer to his orgasm. He lifted his head, looking down at Y/N. She was always stunning, but like this, with her eyes closed from the pleasure and the way she took his cock almost greedily. He had never seen anyone so beautiful. 

“I’m close” He grabbed her hair, making a make-shift ponytail and pulling slightly. She opened her eyes but didn’t pull away. In fact, pulling her hair seemed to challenge her more, as she sucked harder before pushing him further into her throat. He groaned loudly, bucking his hips up. He felt himself hit the back of his throat and he felt himself cum. 

God it was amazing, his head slammed back against the chair, and he could feel himself panting. Mouth open while she continued to lick him threw his orgasm. He felt her stand on wobbly legs, so he acted fast; pulling her down to sit on top of him. He looked up and she was smiling at him cheekily. He could feel her wetness on his thighs as he came down from his high, his hands moving to rub circles on her ass underneath the dress.

“Was that- Lando!” She had started to ask something, but he wasn’t going to answer. She hadn’t finished, he realised. He was quick to stand them both and push her against the table, ass bare and legs split so her could see all of her. She didn’t even try to stop him, pushing herself back so she could lie comfortably. He got down on his knees, but she didn’t allow him the time to marvel at her. She grabbed his hair and pulled him closer to where she wanted him. He laughed slightly before going in for the kill. He had dreamt of this for so long, he wasn’t going to waste the chance he’d got.

He licked a strip up her cunt before focusing on her swollen clit. God she was soaked. All for him too. He sucked hard, loving the way she moved to put both her legs over his shoulder, trapping her against him. He pushed a finger inside her, groaning at how tight she was. She felt perfect, and the noises she was making- his cock was already growing hard again. She squirmed against his fingers while he continued to dominate her clit, clenching in need for more stimulation. He pushed another finger in, eliciting a cry from her stunning lips. He pulled away to gauge her reaction and groaned at the sight. She was playing with her tits, like he’d dreamt of. She was arching her back while playing with her nipples.

Not wanting to keep her waiting he dove in again, he curled his fingers inside her, feeling her grind against his face. She was close, he could feel it in the way she was clenching around him, her wetness dripping down her thighs onto the carpeted floor. He’d never be able to have a meeting in this room again without getting turned on.

“Please Lando, please” She was begging. God he loved the sound, he moaned in reply and bit her clit. It sent her over the edge and she cummed hard. His name falling from her lips in chants as she writhed on the table. He cleaned her up the best he could before standing, dropping her legs from his shoulder. She hadn’t moved, eyes lazily watching him. She went to pull her dress up back over her boobs but stopped when Lando stood between her legs. His once again, hard cock stood proud as he pushed it over her sensitive pussy. She jumped at the feeling but didn’t complain so he looked up. He moved to bend over her so they were face to face, his cock nestled comfortably against her folds, like a silent dare. 

He could feel her fast breathing against his lips, her nipples grazing against his clothed chest. They stared at each other, no one making a move.

They both knew the consequences of their actions, but they didn’t want to deal with them right now. For now, they had each other, and Lando certainly wasn’t going to allow them to think about the consequences.

[anthurak]

Something I’ve been thinking about when listening to ‘Crooked’ is how Ozzie seems to really relate to Fizz with lines like ‘I think you’re messy but I’m messy too’ and singing about his own ‘crooked heart’ and how he finds Fizz’s imperfections beautiful.

And I think this could get really interesting if Asmodeus and the rest of the Sins are fallen angels just like Lucifer. I mean imagine what Ozzie’s sense of self-image is like if he was an angel who left or was expelled from Heaven and took on this new form in Hell?

Like we’ve always wondered why the Sins look the way they do, particularly in contrast to the demons they seem to rule over. Asmodeus rules over the succubi and incubi yet is this multi-headed fire-rooster, Beelzebub rules over the hellhounds yet is some mashup of a fox/canine and a bee, and now Mammon rules over the shark-demons yet is some weird spider/pine-tree thing.

What if the reason they all look like this is the RESULT of them being Fallen Angels? Specifically, the result of their expulsion from Heaven? What if this is the whole reason for them being ‘embodiments of sin’ in the first place? What if it was all originally intended as a PUNISHIMENT by Heaven for whatever transgressions they may have committed? Something meant to ‘curse’ them when they fell.

In which case, I think it’s all too easy to imagine why Ozzie empathizes, relates and connects so much with Fizzerolli and his struggles. Because Fizz is going through a struggle likely all too similar to one that Ozzie may have gone through, what ALL of the Sins likely went through after their fall. Expelled from their home, having their bodies massively changed and told it was BAD. And I think Crooked shows how Ozzie coped with it: By embracing what he had become and finding the beauty in it, something that he now uses to help Fizzerolli, showing that there is no shame in all their crooked, messy imperfections, and that there is even beauty in them.

And I imagine that ALL of the Sins did more or less the same: They embraced and OWNED this ‘curse’ Heaven sought to ‘punish’ them with. Embraced these ‘sins’ they are supposed to embody and made them their own. It’s why Ozzie and Bee are able to express this very positive interpretation of Lust and Gluttony respectively. As a way of making a new life for themselves and also probably a big ‘fuck-you’ to Heaven.

Now that’s not to say that ALL of the Sins were able to do this in a positive manner, Mammon being a clear example. I imagine that as we are introduced to the rest of the Sins, we’re going to see more of a range of positive and negative ways they’ve chosen to express the ‘sin’ they embody. Like even Asmodeus has been shown to have had his hang-ups on Lust and Love being exclusive, leading to him keeping his true relationship with Fizzerolli secret.

Though it’s clear over the last couple episodes that Ozzie isn’t worried about that anymore.

And I think that in particular is REALLY interesting, because it implies that the Sins aren’t actually bound to a particular way of indulging. Rather, the way they express their ‘sin’ is not by compulsion but by CHOICE. Which I think puts all of the Sins’ actions in a pretty interesting light.

Like it means that Mammon being this petty, skeevy, manipulative asshole isn’t some grand, nebulous ‘Embodiment of Greed’ thing, but rather simply a Mammon thing. The product of his own personal issues and hang-ups. Which also weirdly enough implies that there’s hope for Mammon. The possibility that he doesn’t HAVE to be this way. Admittedly it would almost certainly take a (pardon the pun) HELLUVA family intervention to have a hope of making that happen, but you never know. It would certainly be in keeping with the themes of the show.

All in all, I’m finding more and more the possible backgrounds of the Seven Sins to be VERY compelling. Not just for ‘The Lore’ reasons, but because it further develops the Sins as characters. It takes these monstrously powerful and ancient beings and shows them to be far more grounded and, for lack of a better word, human than we might give them credit for.

[fictionstudent]

Why even "show, not tell"?

You must have heard the famous advice “show, not tell” around a hundred times by now. It’s one of the most used writing tools today, I’d argue. Recently in a blog post, I’d even talked about what it actually means and how you could execute it.

But now you must be thinking why it’s even such a thing, you know. Why do we follow this advice? What’s so advantageous about it? Why do even people care? Or do people care?

After much brainstorming, I have the answers to these questions. I hope it can spark some discussions on the issue.

***

#01 - Why yes

So, why you should “show, not tell”? Classic authors didn’t use this technique often. Most of the literature at the time was written in third-person omniscient narration technique, and that means the authors had no means to actually describe how the characters felt or what they thought.

There were a lot of classics that used first-person narration, but maybe those were the only times we could notice the advice actually in use historically. Third-person limited was non-existent, perhaps. Personally, I’ve never read a classic novel that’s in third-person limited narration.

Anyway, time began passing, and people noticed that somehow, this “show, not tell” thingey kinda works. It can convey emotions and information in a lot more efficient way. So editors began searching for stuff like that.

So, one reason can be that it’s simply a superior way to convey emotions. Taking from the example I used in my last blog,

I was angry at Sara. But she didn’t care.

It’s a lot worse than,

She couldn’t believe this. Was this for real? Was this… really happening? Really?

Her fists clenched hard. Her arms were trembling. And her eyes… They tried hard to fight back those tears. But the dam could break any moment now.

How could someone do something like this? And… And to her? What had she done to be betrayed like this?

The latter one actually makes you feel what Sara is feeling—you feel like you are Sara. You can understand her feelings on a much deeper level—you do not just know that she’s frustrated, you know how frustrated she is at the whole ordeal.

Another reason—it’s immersive. Reading in detail how the character is feeling is really a lot more interesting than just reading what they feel and understanding it on an intellectual level. This way, you can relate to the character on an emotional level.

And because it’s immersive, the readers would love the novel. And if they love it, they’d buy more of the author and publisher—and that’s more profits for both of them. So why not?

A third reason—the world is changing. And so are our forms of entertainment.

Today, most of our entertainment is in the form of visual media. When we read novels, we do not always imagine them as someone speaking to us—as readers a century or two ago used to. But rather, we try to create mental images based on the information we’ve gathered. Why?

Because most of our entertainment now is visual. Comics, social media, films—all these widely consumed media are visual. So subconsciously, we all agree that story means visuals. And visuals—along with monologues—are a part of “show, not tell”.

Readers today have a set of expectations that the stories they consume in novels would be visuals, based on happenings. Yeah, there are monologues and narrations, but they sit on top of the foundation that the visuals create. Most commercial fiction does not stand on monologues alone—they need visuals.

Now, I’m not saying that all novels are like this, or all readers are like that. No, far from the truth. I’ve read Murakami’s short-stories that are certainly based only on monologues, with little to no visuals. Or even dialogues, for that matter. And believe me—these stories are just as immersive.

So we can argue that not all fiction needs visuals, but most do. And it’s the same for monologues—read McCarthy.

***

#02 - When to “tell”

Yeah, you heard it right. There’s time you absolutely need to ignore this advice. Writing is subjective, after all—every rule and advice has instances where it needs to be ignored. Exceptions form a big part of learning the application of any sort of rule or advice.

Firstly, time-skip. If you’re writing a scene where you need to have a time-skip, but you also need the reader to kinda know what happened in that time, you can just tell instead of showing.

For example,

And we crossed the seas. The journey wasn’t long, but those days we had nothing to do. We were bored the heck out of our brains. Those days felt like an eternity. Until today, when we finally found what we were looking for—a piece of land in the middle of the Pacific. The Hirohoto Islands.

It's completely fine to write stuff like that if whatever happened in that time phase has little to no relevance to the story whatsoever. If you want to, you could have expanded a chapter or two out of this little paragraph, or even a whole full-length book (lol, really). But if you feel that expanding it would provide no extra meaning to the plot, and you can just skip to the better part, writing like this is extremely fine. In fact, adventure novels are filled with this sort of telling narrations.

Secondly, you can’t show the monologues of the other characters that your narrator is interacting with. Yeah, you can still make use of the visuals, but not the monologues, which is half of the “show, not tell” advice. So you’re heavily dependent on the visuals in terms of showing. But in such cases, remember that you can tell—it’d be the narrator’s interpretation of the emotions of the other characters. It’d be better than head-hopping, I mean. Not recommended, but definitely correct if executed well.

Thirdly, action scenes. You may tell during action scenes because remember that action scenes are supposed to be quick-paced and punchy. This doesn’t really leave you enough space to show the narrator’s emotions and monologues—or the scene would turn up to be slow. And you don’t want an action scene to be slow.

An action scene relies heavily on visuals, though. But if, by any chance, you need to describe anything other than the actual action, you can just tell at that moment to make sure you don’t break the flow and pace of the scene.

Fourthly, you can use tell literally anytime, anywhere. You can use it without restraints. Remember, there’re no hard rules about where you can show and where you can tell. There are gonna be instances where you feel you can apply any one of them—so do apply any one of them. It’s your novel, write it the way you want.

But don’t just keep on telling. It’d be boring. But sometimes, it’s necessary. And sometimes, it’s just a shorter, better thing to do. Use “show, not tell” as many times as you can, but don’t overuse it.

***

Conclusion

I’d said in a recent post that I wanted to talk more about “show, not tell”. And now that it’s over, I guess I’d be doing something else with my life lol.

Anyway, explore the blog if you want more helpful content about writing like this one. Love you guys.

[vlrghoes]

What Once Was | Chapter One

author’s note: I edited and proof read this after coming back from the club so if you see something wrong don’t be afraid to point it out as I’m quite friendly anyway!

I still don’t know if I like this chapter but overall I’m just shy about sharing my work because I’m hyper judgmental of my own work but I still wanted to share this with you guys anyway.

The chapters after this will be set a few years after this (which will be clarified in the chapters)

I’m English so if anything is wrong in terms of America and the health practices please forgive me!

I’m literally yapping now but I do want to say that I can’t promise chapter two will come in under 2 weeks as I’ve just finished my law degree and landed my dream job (not related to my degree) and I start training next Sunday and it’s for 5 weeks, really intense and with exams almost every day and if I mess up I lose my job. (Not sure if it’s obvious what my job is but anyways.) Also it’s my birthday on Wednesday and I’m celebrating Thursday so less time to write!

cw/tw: death, pregnancy complications, heavy angst, references to mental health and body dysmorphia/body image issues

word count: 4370 (I never usually write more than 2k so this is weird for me)

tag list (ask to be added): @trippinsorrows @cyberdejos2 @maeb99 @southerngirl41 @callmekayd @trentybenty @tian-monique @rose-bliss (if your name isn’t in grey, it’s not letting me tag you but I’ll try in the comment section)

masterlist

“You’re choosing that stupid title over your family again.” Ayanna’s voice cracked, the finality of her words hanging in the air as Joe stood frozen, his guilt palpable and his resolve wavering. She had spent all day running around the house and decorating for their special day. She spent hours preparing a nice steak dinner for the two of them, however it had been left untouched, the wait quelling her appetite as she now only felt sick. The dress she picked out now felt too revealing, no longer complimenting her body. Suddenly it clung to all the wrong parts and accentuated her weight gain, making her feel like a whale instead. The candles in the house had melted to the point where the fire had flickered out and the playlist she had queued just sounded like white noise at this point. Nothing matters anymore because Joe is late, late home once again and Ayanna is reaching breaking point. She spent hours waiting for him after she prepared their dinner, but all the effort didn’t matter anymore because instead of romance, the air was filled with tension and dread. “You know they’re due any day now, Joe how could you do this to me, to us. How can you still be wrestling so soon to my due date?” She said, her voice filled with emotion as she tried to steady herself. She didn’t want to cry, she had cried so much this entire pregnancy and she felt miserable. Instead of having that pregnancy glow like Rihanna, she had the life sucked out of her and she just felt lifeless.

“Look baby, I'm sorry.” Joe began, trying to figure out mentally how to get himself out of the trouble he was in. It wasn’t his fault, the media day for Wrestlemania was meant to finish much earlier but they took longer to set up, in turn making Joe’s interview (which was last) late. He had intended to be home earlier but it just seemed like the universe had other plans.

“Don’t even bother” Ayanna sighed, playing with the ring on her finger which now felt like it weighed a tonne. When they first got together, he gave it to her as a promise he’d marry her and whilst he did deliver on that promise, since getting pregnant and no longer being able to join him on the road she wondered if it was worth it sometimes. It’s not that she didn’t love Joe, hell sometimes she thinks she loves him too much. However she now isn’t sure if he loved her more than that title. He used to be so romantic; he’d bring her flowers every single day no matter what, he’d take her on dates, even small ones that weren't as lavish and she loved it. But the more he climbed up the ranks of WWE, the less the romance was there. Then shortly after he became champion everything stopped. Their marriage hit the rocks as he was never home and he started to miss things such as birthdays and christmases, so to save their marriage Ayanna gave up everything and joined him on the road. It was all going great until her later stages of pregnancy which stopped her from travelling with him but the most important thing for Ayanna was that he never missed an anniversary.

Well that was until now.

“Do you even know what day it is?” Ayanna asked, her voice quiet as she watched his mind tick, the cogwheels visabilly spinning with his face scrunched up in confusion, dull eyes squinting until it all finally clicks and he looks at her horrified. “You know, as bad as you’ve been lately, I always used to say ‘at least he’d always remembered our anniversary’ but it seems I can’t even say that anymore.” She spits, her heart breaking as the words leave her mouth.

“Yana” he started, feeling dizzy as he watched her flinch, a look almost of disgust flashing within her eyes. The nickname didn’t bring the butterflies it used to bring anymore, instead it forced a swell of emotion that made her feel like she could spew her guts any second. She used to look at him in adoration, but as the years passed the glimmer in her eyes decreased daily until they were fully extinguished. “Baby things are going to change after wrestlemania, I promise. Just one more match, after this I promise I’ll ask Vince again for some time off, I’m sure he’ll give it to me this time.”

The both of them knew that he was telling her what he wanted her to hear, the same conversation being repeated so many times to the point where they felt like they were in limbo. The last time Joe had asked, Vince told him he couldn’t have time off as he was their top star and Joe simply didn’t ask again. He always seemed to lack a backbone in situations that require him having one, but is happy to have a backbone and be stubborn when he doesn't need to be. Ayanna was exhausted, carrying one baby is hard enough but of course Joe carried the twin gene so she was carrying two instead and it felt like they were draining the life from her body. “I just want you to be present Joe, I feel like a single mother despite being married.” She pleaded, her voice filled with desperation. No one ever mentioned how lonely pregnancy is. She had lost many friends as she couldn’t go out to the club or drink anymore which meant that she spent days on end staring at the four walls of her bedroom watching the time pass as she waited up for Joe to come home. She sighed, tears threatening to well in her eyes which made her mentally curse. Stupid baby hormones. “You made the same promise last time, I don’t think you understand that one day I may not be here. You’ve missed so much already and you will never get this time back.”

She waited for Joe to say something, anything that could save the situation and at some points she felt like he was. But he’d then swallow the words back with a bitter taste and instead just looked at her in defeat. Nothing could save Ayanna for the despair she felt and she felt stupid even having this conversation with him. Instead, she gives him one more look over, a silent plea to say something or do something but the window of time closes as soon as she opens and she ends up turning on her feet and going to bed. She kept her room door ajar, hoping he’d come and knock, give her the tight hugs he used to give her and shower her in kisses and apologies but it never happens.

Joseph himself didn’t know what to do. They had the fairytale romance all their friends envied when they were younger, he was the promising D1 football player and she was a shoe-in to be a future Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. They looked good together and spent years in their honeymoon phase, yet somehow as they grew older the fairytale had started to wear off. He looked around the room with a frown, his stomach twisting and his heart aching as he realised exactly how much effort she had put in for their anniversary dinner and in that moment he felt like a horrible person. He knew he needed to pack as he was leaving at 5AM to get a jet for Wrestlemania but a large part of him wanted to go and fix the situation. But he knew nothing could ever fix it. They promised each other that they’d never go to bed without resolving an argument but that promise got broken several times to the point of which it no longer had any weight. So instead, Joe went into the walk-in closet and packed his things, believing that there’s nothing he could do to fix the situation.

That night, for the first time in their marriage the couple slept in separate rooms. Joe in the guest room tossing and turning in his own guilt, whilst Ayanna tried her hardest to muffle her sobs in the pillow. Her tears soaked the case through and her heart shattered in the pieces.

The next morning, Ayanna woke with the worst headache. Her head was pounding so intensely it hurt to open her eyes, however she put it down to the fact she spent all night crying and didn’t sleep. She called out for Joe, hoping he’d be home still so they could make up after their argument and wish him luck tonight as no matter what she loved him and didn’t want to continue on with another argument. But as she made it to the guest room, she realised it was too late and he was already gone. Her heart splintered like fragile glass, and she wept until the well of her tears ran dry, leaving her hollow and desolate.

“Fix your face uce.” His cousin Joshua says with a nudge. Joe having a face like a slapped ass and a snappy attitude had become too common these days and the twins, Joe’s only confidants, knew exactly what was going on. They’d grown up with Joe and practically spent their whole lives with Ayanna through her association with Joe, meaning they had been privy to almost all of the couple’s relationship issues.

“He’s right, every day you walk around here with the face you used to have when my dad used to whoop us all for breaking the window with the football.” Jonathon adds on, a small chuckle escaping from his twin brother as the memory of that day flashes through him. The twins and Joseph had grown up together due to their parents living next door to one another. Rikishi, the twin’s father and Joe’s uncle would say the twins were a bad influence. However everyone who knew them knew that it was actually Joe, he always managed to get away from it all by snitching on the boys before they could save themselves. Which is what led to all of them getting chased with a broom stick as children after Joseph broke the window as they were all playing football, but instead of admitting it he blamed the twins whilst the twins blamed him so the punishment was collective.

“Are you fighting with Yana again?” Joshua asks, earning him a dirty look from both his twin brother and Joseph as the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. The two of them somehow manage to fight more than Joshua and his baby mother, and the pair of them were never even together, just a stupid one night stand.

The pair wait for Joseph to say something but it becomes more and more obvious that he has nothing to say, but the situation is clearly bothering him. Jonathan, the self-labelled “mature” one out of the twins, felt it was best to offer some advice, even if Joe didn’t ask. “Man, I don’t know what���s going on but I know you two have been together since you were both thirteen, whatever it is you’ll make it through it. You guys have always found a way.” The advice, albeit sweet, doesn't really make a difference for Joe. But thankfully he gets called for his press conference anyway so he doesn’t have to engage in the conversation further and he shifts from vulnerable ‘Joe’ to the formidable ‘Roman,’ like a Jekyll turning into Hyde, shedding his worries and fears to become the stoic, unyielding figure everyone dreads.

Joe never really cared for press conferences, however since he was the face of the company he was obligated to fulfil every duty in his contract. He was always used to giving the cookie cutter answers to the usual questions like “what are your expectations tonight?” and “how do you feel about your opponent?” However, he gets caught off guard when someone in the crowd asks "with the demands of your career, how do you balance your professional and personal life, especially with your wife expecting?" The question then places a pang of guilt in his stomach once more as he’s forced to remember their argument from last night. He really wanted to speak to her before he left but he didn’t want to wake her up and his flight was too early for him to stay. He took a thought and tried to compose an appropriate answer before taking a small breath.

“It’s a challenge, no doubt.” He began, slightly sounding defensive whilst making sure to try and make eye contact with the journalist in the crowd to make sure he appeared engaged in the topic. “But I’ve always believed that if you’re committed to something, you find a way to make it work. My family understands what this career means to me, and I make sure to be there for them as much as I can. After tonight, I’m looking forward to some quality time with them.” The words feeling hollow knowing his home life isn’t in a good place.

At home, Ayanna rubs her temples trying to quell the headache that has seemed to intensify from earlier on. She sits on the sofa, her head spinning from the pain when a sharp, twisting pain in her abdomen causes her to shift positions. “It can't be.” she mumbles, it was too early. The twins were not meant to be due yet, she had an entire plan for Joe’s mother to come down and stay in the guest room and help her for the last week of her pregnancy up until the babies hit six months, this can’t be happening. Her phone lay on the coffee table, just out of reach. She stared at it, debating whether to call Joseph or not. But he was probably in the middle of his press conference. She didn’t want to worry him—she could handle this.

She bided her time, until the pain suddenly intensified, radiating from her abdomen up to her chest. Ayanna’s breath hitched, panic creeping in as she realised something was seriously wrong. She forced herself to stand, but her legs buckled beneath her. The room spun, and she fell back onto the couch, gasping for air. She gave in and phoned Joe first, his phone going straight to voicemail as she thought before hanging up, her hands trembling as she dialled 911.“Please” she began with a gasp, struggling to even breathe, “I think something’s wrong I'm pregnant, and I—” Her voice broke off as another wave of pain hit her, harder this time as she screamed, the sound of her pained yells bouncing off the walls.

Joe, pleased with his answer to the first question, felt like he was in the clear and that would be it for the interview but then another question hit him. "There have been rumours that you were considering taking some time off after this match. Can you confirm or deny that?" The question made him feel hot under the collar, he didn’t want to give a definitive answer as Vince had already turned down his request and he didn’t want to put himself in a position that gets him in trouble. He hated it about himself and in a way he also hated Vince for putting him in this situation, however deep down he knew that he was at fault. No matter what, he was a coward and tried to avoid rocking the boat at work but all that has done is cause problems in his marriage.

He once again flashes that million dollar smile that he knew the ladies loved the most before positioning his answer. “Right now, I’m focused on tonight. Whatever comes after, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I’ve heard the rumours, but my priority is to go out there, put on a hell of a show, and take care of business. The rest will fall into place." He was cool and composed, everything a champion should be, however, the answer in itself was very evasive. It was as though he had mastered the art of saying much while revealing nothing, leaving everyone guessing what truly lay beneath.

Ayanna’s vision blurred as she tried to focus on the operator’s voice. “Stay with me, ma’am, help is on the way,” the voice said, but Ayanna could barely hear it over the pounding in her head. She doubled over in pain, clutching her stomach as the baby kicked wildly inside her. Her thoughts were a jumble of fear and regret. She should have told Joseph—should have insisted he stay home. But it was too late now. The darkness at the edges of her vision crept closer, and she knew she was running out of time

Joe looked at the crowd, wanting to go backstage and get ready for his match, a sigh of relief leaving his body as he’s told this is the last question of the conference. "Any plans to celebrate after the match, or will you be rushing home to be with your family?”

Joe smiled, the question feeling so bittersweet as he’d love to have Ayanna in the crowd like she usually is tonight, but that isn’t the case. "We’ll see how the night goes. My family’s always been my anchor, so I’ll be getting back to them as soon as I can. But first, I’ve got to take care of business in that ring."The reporters nodded, satisfied with his answer. Joseph glanced at the time—just a few more minutes, and he could get back to his routine. But he had no idea that his world was about to shatter.

Ayanna’s strength was fading fast. She clutched her phone, the operator’s voice a distant echo in her ears. “Hold on, ma’am, the paramedics are almost there,” but Ayanna’s world was already slipping away.

The last thing she felt was the sharp pain in her head, then—darkness.

The crowd was electric as Joe stepped into the ring, his face stoic as he played with his wrists to loosen them up. The glamour and feel of Wrestlemania never gets old, but he stayed focused, his mind locked in on the match and his eyes focused on his opponent. He couldn’t afford any distractions - not tonight.

The bell rang, and he moved with precision, every punch, every kick calculated. He could feel the weight of the championship on his shoulders, the expectations of the fans, the promise he had made to himself to be the best. Minutes felt like seconds as the match intensified, the crowd on their feet, chanting his name. With a final, devastating move, Joseph pinned his opponent to the mat. The referee’s hand slapped the canvas—one, two, three.

The crowd booed as Joseph was declared the winner, his arm raised in victory, gutted that their golden boy Cody Rhodes had lost the title. The championship belt was handed to him, and he held it high, basking in the glory of the moment. For a few seconds, everything was perfect. But beneath the cheers and jeers, he felt an uneasy feeling run through him, it was almost as if his body was trying to warn him that this victory came at a price—one that would haunt him long after the spotlight dimmed.

After the match he walked backstage, sweat dripping down his face but a victorious smile plastered on his lips. Fellow wrestlers patted him on the back, congratulating him on another win, another title defence. He had done it again—proven why he was the best. But it didn’t feel the same without Ayanna there to give him a kiss and tell him how proud she was of him. He longed to have her sweet floral scent dancing though his nose, he simply missed her and he was going to make it his mission to call her immediately and apologise and make it up to her. In fact, he was going to ask Vince again for time off or just go to Hunter and get him to explain to Vince.

As he headed toward his locker room, he saw Vince stood them with a solemn expression. His heart dropped, usually if Vince looks at you like that you’ve done a terrible job and you’re about to be pulled off TV. “Joe, we need to talk,” he said, his voice tight with urgency.”

Joseph frowned, still riding the high of his victory. “What’s up, Vince? I’ve got some celebrating to do and I need to call my wife.”

Vince hesitated, his face pale. “Joe, it’s Ayanna… She had a stroke during labour. She had tried to call you as she was going into labour but you were in the press conference.”

The words were like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him. “What?” he whispered, his heart plummeting. “No… no, that can’t be right.” His mind scrambled to reject what he’d just heard, clinging to disbelief as though it could keep the truth at bay.

Vince’s eyes were filled with sorrow as he continued, “I haven’t heard anything else, however I would suggest that you take the jet and go to the hospital now. We will cover you in the post match press conference.” The championship belt slipped from Joseph’s grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud. The noise of the backstage area faded into nothingness as Joseph stood frozen, disbelief and horror washing over him.

Joseph’s heart pounds as he bursts through the hospital doors, the sounds of WrestleMania’s victory still ringing in his ears. But as he’s confronted by the white walls of the ICU, his triumph feels meaningless, distant. Joseph’s hands trembled as he pushed through the hospital doors, his mind a whirl of fear and denial. He moved as if in a trance, barely registering the people around him as he demanded to be taken to Ayanna.

“Where’s Ayanna? Where are my kids?” he demands, his voice edged with panic.

The receptionist’s eyes flickered with sorrow, looking around in desperation as she did not want to be the one to be here when the news was broken to him. Luckily for her, the doctor steps forward. “Mr. Anoa’i, I’m so sorry. Your wife suffered a massive stroke shortly after going into labour. By the time she got here, there was nothing we could do to reverse the damage. Her brain activity ceased before we could save her.”

Joseph’s breath catches, his world starting to crumble. “What… what do you mean? Where is she? Can I see her?” His voice wavered, a desperate plea for a reality that was slipping through his fingers.

The doctor hesitates, his tone measured but heavy. “We had to make a decision quickly, Mr. Anoa’i. We kept her on life support long enough to deliver the twins via emergency C-section. It was the only way to save their lives.”

For a moment, Joseph just stares, unable to comprehend the words. “You… you kept her alive just to deliver the babies?” His voice is raw with disbelief and rising fury. He couldn’t believe what was being said to him, Ayanna being reduced to a baby making machine made him feel beyond sick. They could’ve had another baby, but he could never have another Ayanna. “She wasn’t just some fucking incubator! She was my wife! She is my wife, why didn’t you save her?!”

The doctor’s eyes hold steady, though full of sympathy. “She made that decision herself. Your wife signed an advanced directive, instructing us to prioritise the babies if anything went wrong. She knew the risks and chose this course.”

The words hit Joseph like a sledgehammer. Ayanna had known this could happen and made a decision without him—a decision that had ripped her from his life. Anger surged and then ebbed away, leaving a hollow ache where it had been. He had spent his life with her, and now, learning to live without her seemed an insurmountable challenge, a cruel twist of fate.

“Where are they?” he finally whispers, his voice barely audible, eyes vacant.

One of the nurses gently guides him to the room where the newborns lie in their incubators. They’re tiny, fragile, and perfect. But as Joseph looks at them, he’s overwhelmed not with the joy he expected but with a deep, unsettling mix of sorrow and resentment. They’re here, alive and breathing, but Ayanna is gone. She sacrificed herself for them, and Joseph can’t help but feel a stab of resentment toward these tiny beings who cost him everything. He stands over the incubators, his hands shaking as he touches the glass. The twins stir slightly, their small cries echoing in the sterile room, but all Joseph feels is an unbearable, suffocating grief—and an anger he can’t reconcile. Whilst he was angry at the world, he was also mad at himself. What sick bastard resents an innocent child? He thought, trying to force the feeling out of his heart, but it was no use. He just couldn't stop himself being filled with disgust when he looked at them, especially as they both look exactly like her. It felt like some cruel punishment from the universe for his wrongdoing.

Finally, he forces himself to pick up one of the babies, holding the child close to his chest. The warmth of his newborn is supposed to bring him comfort, but instead, it feels like a weight pressing down on him, reminding him of what he’s lost. Tears blur his vision as he collapses into a nearby chair, the sound of the twins’ cries filling his ears. But instead of the joy and love he once imagined, all Joseph can feel is a hollow emptiness and a dark, creeping resentment that only deepens his guilt. The nurse gently touched his shoulder, but Joseph barely noticed. He sank into a chair, the twins still wailing in his arms, as tears streamed down his face. The world had stopped making sense. He had won the match, but in doing so, had lost everything that truly mattered, as if triumph had come at the cost of his very soul.

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Hey, psst. Want to hear about one of my more meaningless pet peeves?

You know the Moomins, right? A few years ago the answer might've been no, but after the popularity of Moominvalley (2019) the Moomin franchise seems to have gained popularity outside of Europe and Japan. In any case, Moomins follows the adventures of hippo-like "trolls" in book, comic, TV show and movie form, animated, stop motion and live action alike. One of my very favourite characters from the Moomins is Edward the Booble.

(First image from here, the rest pulled from the episode Adventures of Moominpappa: Part 1)

My first introduction to him was in the animated Moomin (1990) series, and wow!!! What a creature, I'm sure you can assume why I immediately took a liking! A gigantic, reptilian beast, magnificently suited for aquatic living with his long body and finned tail! In this series it's even implied that he might be a dragon or related to dragons (this is not a feature of other Moomin series or books though) which made him infinitely cooler to me. Despite being the second largest creature on Earth he's always described to be a very friendly guy, if he ever steps on a person by accident he always pays for the funeral costs, they say.

Edward has other interpretations of himself, naturally, given the long lifespan of the Moomins as a franchise and the fact that he made his actual debut in the book Moominpappa's Memoirs. This is him as illustrated in the book:

(Image from here)

In the stop motion show The Moomins (1977) he looks like this:

(Image from The Moomins episode Edward the Booble)

The comics take perhaps the greatest divergence, as in those he looks like this:

(Image taken from here)

...Still pretty similar, usually.

Fortunately for me, despite his rather few appearances in any Moomin property, he gets his own spotlight in the Moomin World park! ...There's a theme park, by the way. Two parks, one in Naantali, Finland, one in Hanno, Japan. I'm talking about the Naantali park in this case, a place I've gone to significantly more than the average person. ^^' As you saw, certain characters (and places) look extremely different interpretation to interpretation, so Moomin World most closely sticks to the 90's animated show if there's any conflicting designs. This is Edward at the park, he floats near the Moomins' "bathing hut":

(Image from here)

Now look at that! Naturally they couldn't have made him a gigantic looming beast, but this is really darn close to how he is in the 90's series. He looks a lot like a long-necked dinosaur, I really enjoy his individually molded scales and hair strands, and his sort of claylike texture. It makes him look like he was brought into the real world straight from a cartoon: a look that's just right for the Moomin World! Just look at his face!!!

(Image from here)

A real big sweetie!!!! He's obviously fake, yet he feels real anyway. It's the way that he's shaped so naturally, how his raised neck and tail and arched back create a shape that flows from body part to part. It’s the way each part of him is textured, even in the parts of him where he lacks scales there’s a subtle unevenness to his surface, and certain features are raised. Despite being a purple yellow-haired reptilian creature he's very much like a real animal! All in all an excellent adaptation.

“Wait,” you might be thinking. “This is all good things. You like the Edward at the park. Where’s the pet peeve?”

You’d be quite right! All of this is indeed well and good, but that’s because I’ve withheld one crucial detail.

That is not Edward the Booble at the Moomin Park.

Not anymore. He was replaced some time ago, with an all new design.

Currently, Edward looks like this:

(Top image from here, bottom image from here)

......

What in the world. Do you see that??? Edward looks like his spine was mangled. I presented you with several different versions of Edward before so you could compare: does he look like any of his adaptations? Certainly not. He has never been a sea serpent!! Nevermind this ridiculously long snake torso, he's always depicted as having a long neck and tail but a normal, plump body. See those things shittily painted on his side? Those are fins! When did he ever have fins!!!?????

All of those wonderful sculpted scales have been replaced with an all smooth surface. His body's surface texture is instead communicated through paint. I do think the paint job is quite pretty as his colouration gets some variation (reminds me of a story book illustration, likely they were going for that look), but see how much the light reflects off of his plastic surface? When his scales were actually there, you'd see their shadows, but now that they went for an all smooth design he looks cheap, like any other theme park plastic statue out there. He looks factory-made. It makes his newly added fins appear like an afterthought, nevermind his hair that shifts from three-dimensional to painted on halfway down his neck. I suppose they just didn't feel like painting his hair all the way down his back like it is in Moomin...

I suppose his quizzical look is pretty cute, but yeeeouch that neck!!!! It has that weird bend right in the middle, and it's so skinny and short compared to his body. It widens so much at the bottom, he's like a watering can, man! His head is far too small and a real weird shape, though I can't put my finger on it. Perhaps his weird bulging teeth? They're awfully big in his mouth when previously they were more in proportion.

They insisted on this weird long noodle body and yet he doesn't even flow nicely anymore. There's an awkward hump between the neck and the body, and at the end of his body where logically his form would rise up, it instead straightens out for a bit, then his tail raises.

Now, obviously this is extremely minor in the grand scheme of things. I seldom bother myself with thoughts of the new Edward the Booble — only now did I get the idea of making a Tumblr post about this, lmao. This is just another case of “man, now why would they do that >:(“ rather than anything big. Because, really… man, now why would they do that!! Had a perfectly good Booble before. Perfect down to every last detail. Now he’s been replaced by some imposter! >:(

[dark-frosted-heart]

The Beast's User Manual - Clavis (His POV)

CLAVIS YOU ABSOLUTE CUTIE

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

In front of my fiancee, I’ve  always considered myself to be an elegant, magnificent, joyful, and loving gentleman.

If Emma feels even an ounce of unhappiness, it’s the loving gentleman’s disgrace—

I plan to keep working hard at it every day.

--

(It’s that time already…)

I’ve been holed up in my room dealing with documents for several hours already—

After the usual breakfast with Emma, briefing with servants, waking Chevalier up, time slipped away as I got to work. 

As I moved to relax my body, which had become stiff after sitting in a chair for so long, a wave of sleepiness hit me.

(Perhaps I’ve been pushing myself to hard lately)

(It’s been a fruitful time, but I still haven’t gotten enough sleep)

(I have a meeting later…I can afford a short break)

I stumbled over to the sofa and sat down, sensing that I’m at my limit with the yawn I let out.

I removed my ascot tie, loosened my collar, and lied down.

(Still, the situation’s calmed down considerably…)

~~ Flashback ~~

Clavis: Several jewelry dealers are scheduled to have dinner with us today. We’re having a small party, but what do you think will happen when we show off our love?

Emma: I think you can get the message across without having to show off.

Clavis: Yes, they’ll definitely pay us tribute. At any rate, the purpose of the company’s for me to arrange export destinations. I wonder how much jewelry will be collected to gain my favor. I’ll arrange a deal with the one whose jewelry best suits your taste as an honor to the winner.

~~ Flashback End ~~

Originally, the party with the jewelers was a strategy for Emma to gain footing.

(Jewelers' customers are mainly nobles…) 

(The information they see and hear spreads among other nobles)

(The more favor shown, the better the nobles’ attitudes toward Emma will be)

(Nothing wrong with taking measures)

(I also wanted to use that as an excuse to show off my cute fiancee)

~~ Flashback ~~

Merchant: I’ve heard rumors, but it looks like the real deal, Your Highness.

Clavis: Yes. Go home with that image of our wonderful bond seared into your memory.

Merchant: As you say. However, Your Highness must have a lot on your mind…

Clavis: Oh, what sharp ears you have?

Merchant: In our line of work, you’ll need to be well-informed or you’ll miss out on huge profits. His highness comes from a prestigious line that has served the Michel family for generations… I’ve heard that the head of the family is making some kind of move.

Clavis: What, it’s just some stubborn old man trying to play games with me. However, it’s not my intention for my fiancee to hear about this.

Merchant: Of course I’m aware of that. There’s already been rumors going around about Your Highness and the head of the family… People always want fresh rumors. I’ll do my small part to help. This is not just a quarrel between Your Highness and the head of the family… The huge profits coming from paying tribute to Lady Emma are what we merchants are after.

Clavis: Haha, you’re very competent. I also like to choose my business partners carefully, but I think I can work well with you. Can I expect great things…?

~~ End flashback ~~

(That party went well. Doesn’t look like Emma noticed anything was amiss)

(After all, there’s always troubling rumors when it comes to women related to royalty…)

(I can’t forgive such rumors that would wipe Emma’s smile away)

~~ Flashback ~~

Emma: Mhmm…All these sweets are just to my taste!

Emma: Their signature “Rabbit and Leopard love explosion cake” in particular is the tastiest…

Clavis: I see, I see. It was worth asking the owner for some privileges as an investor.

Emma: Ah, so it was Clavis’ idea after all.

Clavis: Haha. I didn’t think you’d notice. Your power of love never ceases to amaze me.

Emma: You’re just easy to understand. Hehe…I’m really fortunate.

Clavis: Hm?

Emma: With you, there’s always something going on every day, but I’ve never felt unhappy. Thank you always, Clavis.

~~ Flashback end ~~

(It’s my duty to protect that smile…)

(Both as a gentleman and as her fiance. I don’t want to be a useless man that causes her trouble)

Suddenly, my eyes landed on a rabbit plushie I had left on the table.

With this I could use as a substitute for Emma for when she’s not by my side.

I reached out for the rabbit and hugged it close as I fell asleep.

I’d be dead if anyone were to see me like this, but this room’s a safe space protected by a lock and key.

(Emma…)

(I wonder if you still feel fortunate at this moment…)

(...)

(...)

(...Mn…)

???: -vis…

(Wha…I think I hear…something)

(No…I’m still half asleep)

(Is it time…for the meeting already?)

(But…the bell hasn’t rung yet…)

Clavis: Nn…It’s not…time yet…

(I’ve been pulling a lot of all-nighters…lately…)

(Outside the rumors and the investments…there’s still more to do…)

(And…huh…)

(...)

Clavis: *yawn* I’m…sleepy…I’ve had enough, good night…

(I don’t want to…wake up…)

(...)

(...Mn…)

(That…scent…)

(Smells like Emma…)

(If…)

(If anyone could enter this room…it’d be Emma…)

(...)

(?!)

It took only a moment for me to wake up from my nap.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Emma right there, smiling at me.

Clavis: …

Emma: G-good morning…

Clavis: …

Emma: Are you still half asleep?

The moment I realized what was going on, I got to my feet.

I hurriedly grabbed my ascot tie hanging on the back of the couch and composed myself as I tied it.

(Damn it, I’m such an idiot…)

(I gave Emma the key to my room)

(If Cyril came calling for me and I didn’t respond, then he would’ve asked Emma for help…)

I casually stuff the rabbit into a corner of the sofa.

Clavis: Emma…

Emma: Yes?

Clavis: What did you see?

Emma: Your sleeping face.

Clavis: Did I say anything strange?

Emma: You said something cute.

Clavis: …I see …

I couldn’t put on my usual smile and hid my face with a hand.

(I talked in my sleep, and she probably saw the rabbit too…)

(...I feel like dying)

Somehow, my face felt hot enough to boil water.

Emma: Are you, by any chance, embarrassed?

Clavis: Haha, there’s no way. It’s just that, you know… Yes, I thought it strange for you to sneak into my room without permission.

Emma: Hehe…You prank me often.

I thought I’d return the favor.

Clavis: I see…you got me

(I never thought someone would try to get revenge at this point…)

(My cool front’s now ruined, isn’t it?)

(Does she think I’m cute or something…? It’s okay, really)

When the heat somewhat subsided, I removed my hand from my face.

Emma’s eyes weren’t filled with disappointmentーThey were sparkling.

Emma: And it’s my dream to become a Clavis master.

Clavis: Hm? What’s with that amusing title?

Emma: It’s a title reserved for those that you know ins and outs, and can hold the reins.

It was a great learning experience today to see Clavis after you woke up from your nap.

Clavis: …

(If you say so, then you’ve already become a master)

(Because you’re the only one that has me completely wrapped around your finger)

Emma: By the way, Clavis. Here.

Emma pointed at a spot above my ear and I quickly smoothed that spot down.

I felt the bounciness of my bedhead and wanted to jump into a hole.

Emma’s shoulders shake and she looks down as if she couldn’t hold back anymore.

(Well if Emma’s enjoying herself then it’s not so badー)

(ーNOT. I need to fix this as soon as possible)

Clavis: That’s a good attitude, my dear fiancee. I like your courage to prank me as part of your journey to becoming a master.

However…

I grabbed her hand and sat her on the sofa before pinning her down.

In the same way, I’ve mastered Emma.

I think about her all hours of the day.

In this case…I could think of one or two tricks.

Clavis: You should be more careful.

It’s too naive to be satisfied with a prank. You have to expect payback.

I kissed Emma’s forehead before sliding my lips down to her cheek and then jaw, turning her face a bright red.

(Good…)

Continuing my attack, I placed a hand on her smooth leg and let it crawl upward.

I fiddled with her skirt, which had hiked up from me pushing her down.

Emma: C-Clavis…It’s almost time for the meeting!

Clavis: I know.

Emma: But your hands are still wandering…!

Clavis: Thanks to you, I woke up ahead of schedule. I have plenty of time to tease you.

(If I want to call myself an elegant, magnificent, joyful, and loving gentleman, I’ll need to forget what just happened)

Any protest is silenced by a kiss.

This usually sweeps Emma awayーor so it would seem.

However, just as our lips parted, my cheeks were caught between her hands and pulled back in.

(Wha…)

Emma took the lead and kissed me. It wasn’t a sweet peck, but an adult kind with a lot of tongue.

I was taken aback, not expecting this kind of retaliation.

Emma: Don’t underestimate me.

I’ve been poisoned by you to the point that Cyril side-eyes me.

(...)

(Ah…Forget it)

(In front of such a lovely thing, my mistakes are not important)

Clavis: When did you get so good at handling me?

Emma: Hehe, does that mean you approve?

Clavis: Yes, I’ve lost.

(Emma is so much better than me)

Emma: You can leave yourself to me.

With Emma, my fatigue’s washed away by happiness.

(At the end of the day…I’m working for myself, not my lovely fiancee.

(To make this happiness eternal…)

(Let’s go the extra mile)

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

love like you & rose’s love for pearl

i love relating love like you to pearlrose. particularly, from rose’s perspective. here is how i’ve always looked at it.

the war

do it for her + love like you are exactly how pearl and rose felt about each other during the rebellion.

“You have nothing but the way you feel, your strategy and a sword, you just think about the life you'll have together after the war.”

“If I could begin to be half of what you think of me, I could do about anything! I could even learn how to love… like you!” 

“Deep down, you know you weren't built for fighting but that doesn't mean you’re not prepared to try!”

“I always thought I might be bad… now, I’m sure that it’s true ‘cause… I think you’re so good! And I’m nothing like you!”

“And then you do it for her. That's how you know you can win.”

“Look at you go, I just adore you, I wish that I knew what makes you think I’m so special.”

[Image description: Pearl’s blue hologram of Rose is depicted in this image as she reenacts a memory. She wears a dress with a star emblem at the chest, and she looks down, her expression appears to be one of concern. The background is a soft purple.]

a single pale rose

remember the night that they escaped from the other diamonds ?

“When I see the way you act, wondering when I'm coming back, I could do about anything.”

“When I see the way you look, shaken by how long it took, I could do about anything… I could even learn how to love like you.”

to fake pink’s shattering, she obviously vanished for a moment. in a single pale rose, we see a shapeshifted pearl crying and holding the diamond in her hand.

eventually rose came back, then, you know, “endless honeymoon” as rebecca described it. rebecca continues this in the book “end of an era” by adding, “pink is gone and pearl is free to love rose.”

meanwhile, rose saw how much pearl cared about her that night. she admired her so much–her courage, how much she meant to her because she definitely saw someone who was shaken and wondering when she was coming back after she reformed as rose.

[Image Description: this image depicts a pink flower in Pink Diamond’s palm. She wears a pink glove and there is dirt underneath the flower. Pearl’s hand is taking the flower from Pink]

after rose’s death

the final line of the song is: “love ME like you…”

i like to interpret this as the… truth, really. rose loved pearl more than pearl knew. sapphire had to remind her that she swept her off her feet.

rose loved pearl just as intensely, just as strongly and deeply as pearl loves rose.

rose could love pearl the way pearl loves her.

… but she could never love herself.

pearl knew rose the best. she lived with pink and then she lived with rose for the rest of rose’s life.

the only other individual who knows rose entirely like that… is rose herself. and yet, she hated herself.

“Her lack of respect for herself makes it impossible for her to respect everyone closest to her. She reveres them instead, because they are better than she could ever be, and that reverence is so honest and intoxicating that it draws everyone closer to her, without them understanding the deep self-hatred that pull is coming from.” — Rebecca Sugar, End of an Era, page 88.

meanwhile, there’s:

Interviewer: “Pearl obviously has some unrequited love for Rose, you know, and…”

Rebecca: “I don’t know if I would call it unrequited!” — Comic News Insider Episode 679

and there’s:

“Rose falls in love with Pearl's surprising boldness that comes out of left field.” — Steven Universe: End of an Era, Page 86

all of the flashbacks with rose are told to her son from the perspectives of others. they were either from the perspectives of people who didn’t know pearl or pearl / rose very well. sometimes, pearl would tell a story, but the focus was on how much she loved rose. there are also a few times in the show where her friends remind her that rose loved her a lot more than she knew.

if you think about love like you from rose’s perspective, the ending is meaningful.

the story didn’t end because she couldn’t feel the same love for pearl. the story ended because she couldn’t love herself. it was never about choosing anyone, if anything, she chose steven. pearl’s protectiveness, garnet’s wisdom, amethyst’s playfulness, and greg’s kindness made rose believe that her child would grow up in such a wonderful environment and she was “so excited for everyone who’s going to know [her child].” she didn’t realize that her death would hurt people, she thought they would be better off without her. and besides, she didn’t want to live with herself.

pearl barely knew that rose did love like her !! she was in awe of her; she would blush and show vulnerable parts of herself and smile all the time around her.

the problem is, she never loved like pearl in a way that she could see herself through pearl’s eyes. if she could, then maybe she would have been able to love herself.

[Image description: The Crystal Temple, a gray stone statue of a fusion between Pearl, Rose Quartz, Amethyst, and Garnet with long curls and four arms. In front of the statue, at the bottom, is a house. In front of the house is a sandy road leading to a beach, and the background is a soft purple sunset.]

i know that this song isn’t about any character in particular, but it also fits so many characters. i love relating this to many others—ame & the crystal gems, pearl + rose with garnet, sapphire with ruby, and steven with connie. here’s the pearlrose perspective !