#anyway yeah it's not very interesting but it just crossed my mind so i'm sharing it

[purplelea]

Something that just occurred to be is that is isn't extremely weird for Neku and Sho to only be allowed to use one pin at a time? Because we know for sure that in the og Neku was able to use six of them and we can easily guess that Sho could as well, given his Imagination level. It's likely that Beat could, too, but I'm not well versed enough in the og's gameplay to tell.

In any case, neither Neku nor Sho can use more than one pin at once. Another piece of dialogue from Sho also reveals that the level caps on the pins have been removed, making them usable by any player regardless of their level.

Those two factors are some pretty big changes—we see how surprised Sho is when he realizes the latter. My question is: how were they made possible?

There is no reason why Kariya or Uzuki, when in control of Shibuya, would make those changes. Joshua wouldn't have either, because they make no sense in Shibuya's Game. So that only leaves Shiba, who probably made them to fit Shinjuku's rules better. Only thing is, that Sho has been Conductor before, so he should have been aware that this was a possibility. Yet his reaction makes me believe that he never considered it possible (it is possible that he didn't consider it simply because he didn't think about it or because it wouldn't have helped him with his plans anyway, but I think he genuinely didn't know it could be done) which then leads to the logical conclusion of: only a higher power could've done this.

I believe Kubo's the one who made those changes to Shibuya's Game, or Shiba, but thanks to Kubo's powers—in any case, it's a intervention of the Higher Plane. Sho isn't stupid and probably guessed it right away. I am thus adding this to the list of hints he got in order to guess who was behind all of this

[stxneflxwers]

duckies.

⋯⁂ summary. you seem to have found a kindred soul over loving rubber ducks.

⋯⁂ a/n. short and sweet, barely edited, etc. just rubber duckie bonding time! i have a very small collection of my own, so this felt partially warranted to write hehe.

⋯⁂ characters. dr ratio. gn reader.

⋯⁂ cw. fluff...? yeah sure whatever it's just fluff. ratio is a cw of his own. reader works at the intellgentsia guild.

dr. ratio.

💫 he visited your office once – once – only to find you nowhere in the room, but also spotting a rather fashionable-looking yellow rubber duck on your desk... it's dressed in a black and white tuxedo with a little bowtie and top hat.

💫 and, needless to say, he didn't stop himself from picking up the duck and observing it up close. he presses it between two fingers, forcing an airy squeak from it. his eyes narrow further into dangerous slits while he hums in contemplation – he was entirely unaware of your shared adoration for rubber ducks.

💫 although, he can't say he's one for various designs – the simple, classic yellow one is enough to satisfy him. but now he finds himself rethinking that. maybe he could get more... but where would he even purchase ones with such blatantly silly designs?

💫 and then you scare the living hell out of him by entering the room – he gasps and visibly jumps in surprise, the duck tossed between his hands before getting safely caught between both his large hands.

"...hi, veritas." you snicker, "do you like my duck?"

"you–" he sputters, slamming the rubber duck back down on your desk and quickly crossing his arms, but the blush that permeates on his cheeks is undeniable. "i was merely observing."

"a rubber duck? you didn't strike me as the type to have interest in rubber ducks." you grin. "but, anyway, i'm not here to shame you over our adoration for the cute little duckies!" he glares at you, "i have more at home! they're fun to collect."

"...you collect them." he says, sounding more like a statement than an inquiry.

"yup." you nod firmly, "should i...maybe commission one that looks just like you~? mind if i take a picture–" you howl with laughter when he storms out of your office with the reddest blush you've ever seen on his face – if you didn't know better, you would've asked if he has a fever.

how adorable.

and now you're sure you can find a staff identification picture to use to your advantage...

[errihaienx]

part two !

Rintarō Suna reminded himself that he needed to be more patient with the miyas because you'd been so very close to them. He's been keeping his biggest crush on you hidden for years, and he's not going to tell either of the twins about it.

you initially met and became friends with osamu, but his twin, atsumu, was a bit closer to you now because of his more cheery nature. suna was aware of this, which is why he continues to keep up with 'atsumus shits'.

like now, atsumu's been whining for ten minutes now and it seemed like it won't end anytime soon. suna glanced at you, your bright smile made his heart thump. he's well damned annoyed to atsumu's nonstop talks but seeing you laugh and make fun of the blond guy erased his inward curses towards the older twin.

"been tryna get her digits but she friggin' ignored me?!?" atsumu whined.

"hey don't be too upset 'tsumu, maybe you're not her type? we girls have types, you know.. "

suna listened intently to everything you said; he's interested, so very curious. he looked at you again, and this time you caught his gaze.

damn she's lookin' at me, can we just kiss already? were his first thoughts. still staring at each other, he slowly gave you a nod, and you smiled in return. he planned on making the eye contact last longer but atsumu-the-forever-interfering-bastard got in his way, he snatched your attention, well he better say something interesting!

"oh what's yer type then?" atsumu curiously asked, and suna can't believe it but he's actually praising atsumu for asking that. his intervening was a bit helpful after all.

although he's eager to know your 'type' he's nervous as hell, many variables have been crossing his mind. what if you're too specific on your type and it seems like you were describing someone? how could he handle that? or what if he's literally to far from your standards?

"uhm.." you sucked in a breath before your gaze went to suna, he was staring back so you looked away.

"you're literally the opposite of my type 'tsumu," you responded, stealing some glances to the fox-eyed boy.

"like suna?" osamu interrupted.

atsumu gasped, your eyes widened, suna coughed, and osamu deadpanned.

"what?" osamu added, his brow shot up.

no one dared to talk so atsumu laughed, "'samu yer such a mood killer" which made the younger twin show up a middle finger.

suna couldn't look at you and so are you, the twins are really troublesome. suna's thoughts were bombarded with many questions and what ifs.

after a little while had passed and you had decided to walk a different route from the other three, you waved and bid them farewell. suna's eyes were fixed to the ground, refusing to look at you as atsumu hugged you. osamu waved in response.

atsumu smirked and whispered, "hey yer such a sly fox, ya been crushin' on her don't ya?"

"shut up douchebag" = yeah bastard, it's been fuckin' years

"how can ya be noisy 'n nosy at the same time?"

"fuck off 'samu! ya know damn well that i'm ^@#^@#^@#&^#^&#@"

suna disregarded atsumu's following litanies because he was preoccupied with you—with your soothing voice, your beautiful face, and the sparkling eyes he was able to capture looking back at him.

to get closer to you, he'll have to increase his patience with the twins from now on.

this was just another random thought since I'm inlove with Sunrin lol. Anyway, I'll be reaching 100 followers very soon and I can't wait to share the content I've been working on for this milestone! Thank you very much. Always be careful, my loves!

[princessasmosprincess]

I saw your asks were open and I ran right here! Could you write something about Asmodeus finding out that adult!mc is inexperienced in love and still hasn’t had their first kiss yet?

I’m not very experienced in the romance department myself, so this is something I’ve thought about quite a bit since Asmo is my fav. It would be so intimidating to be with Asmo, just because he is so experienced and he’s probably done EVERYTHING. At the same time it might be nice to let him take the lead? I think he'd be very gentle and reassuring as your “first,” whether that means kisses or something more intimate. I also don’t think he’d be judgmental, he’s been with all different types of people so nothing would surprise him.

I don't know what spirit possessed me, Anon, but I saw your ask and the words just kept coming. I do hope you like it ^ ♡ ^

***

Taboo

Genre: A little fluff, a little angst.

Warnings: Nonsexual nudity, not really suggestive but it does dance around the topic of sex, MC is a virgin and has never been kissed and feels embarrassed about it.

***

“...And can you believe, no one had ever told Marchosias that he was a bad kisser! Now, I don't mind if it’s a little rough but I’d prefer any hickies to be lower than jaw level, do you know how hard it is to cover them up even with magic? I swear, it was like making out with a suckerfish.”

Asmo slipped off his robe before folding it and setting it at the edge of the tub, smiling when you laughed at his description of the kiss. He did love an audience, and you hadn't heard most of his stories yet.

You were already in the tub, basking in the warmth and the light floral scent that wafted up with the steam.

Every once in a while Asmo would invite you for an evening bath to relax and gossip. Before you knew him well, you’d been wary of his intentions, but eventually you figured out his motives were relatively pure. He never once crossed your boundaries or made you feel uncomfortable. By now, you barely even acknowledged each other's nudity.

Asmo stepped into the tub, sinking into the cloud-like froth of bubbles, “I know he’s got that whole innocent 'I only give true answers to all questions’ thing going, so you don't want to hurt his feelings, but someone had to tell him.”

“Poor guy.” You laughed.

Asmo was usually the one who did most of the talking, but you didn't mind as long as you were able to get in a word from time to time. He always had a lot to say, so unless something particularly interesting happened to you at RAD, you’d let him go on for as long as he wanted.

“Oh, don't worry, I was gentle with him. I even gave him a private lesson, if you know what I mean.” He smirked, “But we never really talked again after that.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… I'm pretty sure he was just trying to use me to get to the Celestial Realm anyway, as if I wasn't disgraced and cast down. Like, Solomon probably has more sway with my Father than I do at this point.” Asmo sighed and stretched, leaning back against the tub. “But that's enough about me and all of that… What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Asmo's amber eyes brightened, “I wanna hear about your romantic escapades, so spill.”

You hadn’t quite gotten to revealing many of the intimate details of your past to him or any of the brothers.

Your cheeks warmed, “I don't think any of my stories will be as interesting as yours.”

Asmo laughed, “Well of course not, dear, but that doesn't mean I don't want to hear about them.”

“I don't know, Asmo, I don’t really-”

“I won’t ask you to share anything too personal, if that's what you’re worried about,” He lifted a handful of bubbles to his face and blew them in your direction, “Ooh, what about your first kiss, you could at least tell me about that!”

You broke eye contact with him, chewing your bottom lip as you tried to come up with the right words to say, and when they did, they caught in your throat, “I- I can’t.”

A sly grin stole across his lips, “Darling, don’t be silly. Is it that embarrassing of a story? You can tell me, I promise I won’t share it with a soul.”

“That’s not it, Asmo.”

“Hmm?” He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t understand.”

Your voice came out barely above a whisper, “I haven't had my first kiss yet.”

Asmo blinked a few times, the air felt heavy around you, though he didn't seem to notice. He was more surprised than anything.

You’d never had your first kiss?

“Does that mean you're also a-”

You turned your head, willing away the tears pricking at your eyes. It was stupid, you knew. There were lots of people like you. But you felt so ashamed. So unloved.

You knew the question was bound to come up sooner or later, but you still felt unprepared.

“Oh.” Asmo’s gaze softened, not that you could see it. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed-”

This was you, after all, adored by the future Demon King and the Avatars of Sin alike. He didn't think it was possible you could have lived for this long without so much as a kiss.

“It’s ok, Asmo, you didn't know.” You sighed, tilting your head back against the edge of the tub and closing your eyes. You needed a moment.

Asmo sank lower in the water, so his head sat just above the bubbles, his eyes never leaving you.

Asmo’s whole world for the longest time had revolved around himself and sex and carnal desire. That was just what it meant to be the Avatar of Lust. But in the grand scheme of things, experience in those areas didn't matter much at all. Passion was more important, whether it lasted a moment or centuries.

His heart ached for you. From your reaction, this was clearly beyond you simply not having an interest in intimacy. Asmo didn't understand how the opportunity hadn't come about for you. It infuriated him that other humans hadn't seen what he saw in you. How could anyone not love you?

Asmo hardly remembered his first, a face faded from millennia past, a kiss that hadn't made much of an impression after millions more, new and exciting feelings that had overwhelmed his senses at one point but would feel so tame to him now. But he did know that doing something new was always scary at first.

He could offer to help you take that step. To be your first. Of anyone in the entire universe, wouldn't the Avatar of Lust be the best possible first kiss? Wouldn't your first time with an expert make future opportunities feel less intimidating?

And if he was your first kiss, maybe he could be your first in other ways…

His gaze flickered to your lips.

But it didn't seem like the right time. Asmo had made a mess of things as it was. He knew he shouldn't have pressed you, but he had been too curious. Your feelings were already hurt.

He would talk to you about it some other time. Asmo didn't want you to think he pitied you and he didn't want to pressure you either. There was nothing shameful about your situation, whether you felt that way or not. It would do you no good to rush things when you were feeling so vulnerable.

No, he would wait for the right moment, and if you chose someone else as your first he would gracefully accept your decision.

Until then, he would show you how precious you truly were.

***

Cross-posted on AO3

[safficranger]

Fake Scenarios In My Head #24

Alex and Olivia are in the middle of their usual pre-trial hustle, prepping every last detail before heading to court. It’s been a stressful day, with both of them juggling more than a few cases at once. As they run through the final points, Alex accidentally spills coffee over her shirt.

"Great," she mutters, rolling her eyes. "Just what I needed."

"No big deal," Olivia says with a smirk. "Let's head to your office. You’ve got a spare blouse in there, right?"

"Yeah, let’s go."

They walk to Alex's office, chatting about the case until they reach the office and close the door behind them. Being best friends, Alex doesn't think twice about changing her shirt in front of Olivia. After all, they're both adults and they've seen it all before. So, as they continue to discuss their strategy, Alex casually slips off her blouse.

That's when Olivia spots it - a hickey, sitting just above Alex's waistband, just inside her hip. Olivia's eyebrows rise in surprise. Alex hasn't mentioned seeing anyone, and the idea of teasing her friend is just too tempting to pass up.

With a mischievous grin, Olivia says, "Did you bump your hip, Alex?" Her tone is innocent, but the twinkle in her eye is anything but.

Alex's eyes follow Olivia's and her stomach drops. She had completely forgotten about the mark. Quickly, she pulls on her new blouse and clears her throat to buy herself a little more time.

She feels a little uncomfortable being caught in the spotlight like this. Alex is a private person and doesn't like this kind of attention, even though they are close.

"Nothing gets past you, huh?" Alex says, trying to play it off, though her voice is a little tight.

"Well, I have detective eyes." Olivia leans back against the desk, arms crossed.

"Very teenage romance of you, Miss Cabot, showing off your hickey," she adds with a

teasing smile.

Alex rolls her eyes. "Not showing off, it just slipped my mind."

"So... do I know the creator of this beauty?"

Alex hesitates for a moment, genuinely considering. Part of her wants to confide in Olivia, to share this

part of her life that's been a secret for maybe too long.

But as she glances at the files

on her desk-the gruesome details of her current case-she knows now is not the time. This

This conversation deserves more privacy, preferably over a drink when they can actually relax.

"Maybe," Alex says, leaving it deliberately vague, though a hint of a smile tugs at her lips.

"But we'll talk later, when you will buy me a drink."

"Oh, will I?" Olivia laughs.

"If you want me to spill my secret, it would be in your best interest to get me a little tipsy."

Alex says matter-of-factly.

"I would never take advantage of you like that, Alex," Olivia says, sounding serious now.

Alex smiles warmly. "I know, Olivia. It was just a little joke." She looks at her watch again.

"We have a trial to win anyway."

Olivia nods. "Fair enough," she says. "But I'm holding you to it. And, Alex, whether you spill the secret or not... I'm happy if you're happy. You deserve it."

Alex looks up and meets Olivia's eyes. The sincerity there makes her soften a little. "Thank you,

Liv. I appreciate it. I really do."

[kitsune-oji]

I'm tired out of my mind

So I will share this headcanon:

I think Barbatos sleeps in a futon, since we never see a bed in his room full of doors

Ohh yeah

Ok so, his room in general is such an interesting topic. He doesn't have ANYTHING that looks like something you'd find in a bedroom, it's more like a special room for his powers and yet, they say it's "Barbatos' Room" like he doesn't have anything else. Does he just not sleep?? A futon would be one way for him to have a sleeping place but sleeping amongst stairs in a room full of cold stone floors and walls and cobwebs? That just doesn't seem right for a demon who is so adamant on keeping everything clean and tidy. The fact that "his" room looks that way is already strange but imagining him actually sleeping there, changing clothes,... Where does he bathe??? It doesn't make any sense

Therefore, I personally like to imagine that inside his official room full of doors, theres a door that leads to his actual room, with a bed and an adjacent bathroom and everything. I think it would be very elegant and minimalistic. He doesn't spend a lot of time in there anyway and it's easier to keep clean that way

Still, imagining Barbatos rolling out a futon in his staircase room and sleeping on it, probably with his arms crossed over his chest like a mummie is just... So damn hilarious, I can't b39dh39dh3idj

[abyssalpriest]

hi there! sorry for anon (I'm too shy to show myself) but I had a dream involving Leviathan last night I think.

In the dream I was playing a video game that was like a cross between dishonored and stellaris(?), and I was mostly just clicking around trying to figure out how to play, and I ended up in this area that was called a word I don't remember or recognize but the subtitle was "domain of Leviathan". I remember thinking oh that's neat but when I stepped out of my ship in the dream I was constantly taking damage no matter what I did so I panicked and quit the game, and that's when I woke up.

So. Yeah. Thought you might be interested, haha. Hope you're doing well!

Oh hello! No problems for anon, it's there for a reason - also real shit who WANTS to show themselves off anon nowadays on this website, i swear its so hostile lmfao. Anyway!

I wouldn't be surprised if it was him, or some part of him reaching out. I make the distinction of parts because as much as his individual energies and limb-esque bodies are indeed parts of a whole, and I wouldn't say "part of someone patted you on the back, their hand" if. someone patted you on the back, it might just be a case that it wasn't as lucid and obviously him literally talking to you speaking a clear message because it wasn't his straight up conscious mind coming at you.

I can definitely say, especially because I'd just queued on wordpress earlier a meditation with him taking me through a Mental space (same substance dreams take place in) reflection of an area in Bloodborne (and dishonored gives me bb vibes lbr), he uh. yeah he likes his fiction a lot, he speaks through fiction and sound very commonly. He does tend to stick something that stands out related to him in these - dreams, visions, whathaveyou, but especially dreams and hypnagogia - definitely sounds like it could've been him reaching out!

Or. well. I won't say reaching out, could be that he was already there and was making himself known

Honestly all through this ive been feeling like I should say it;s him and im not getting a "its not me" feeling from him, but i like letting people make up their own decisions and i am not infallible so the rest of the reply is staying up lmfao

Definitely interested! Thank you so much for sharing, I do love to hear about him (and honestly I was noting myself earlier that yeah, no one talks about that name of his online so. yes. a little snack for me. thanks!)

[scribhneoirtuirseach]

(in which both Ladybug and Tangerine… propose?)

Of Fruits and Insects (3/?)

featuring: Tangerine, Ladybug, and a very drunk Lemon

wordcount: 552

my other BT fics!

Months pass and both twins forget their deal; Tangerine opting to pretend it never happened in the first place and Lemon quietly confident that with both his brother and Ladybug's luck combined, their paths would end up crossing again.

When they find themselves in Heidelberg drinking to the success of their latest mission, Tangerine's first back since recovering, it's a thought far from their minds.

Until Tangerine returns from the restroom to find Lemon hanging off of Black-Framed Glasses himself, practically roaring in his face.

"— AND HE'S BEING A VERY USELESS TRAIN ABOUT IT ALL."

"Yeah?"

"Fuckin'— Yes, don't interrupt me, and you need to—"

Tangerine steps in, swiftly dragging Lemon off to instead toss him over to the couch they'd been sharing before he left. Talk about useless trains, he's a fucking embarrassing train!

"Sorry about the lightweight, mate…"

"Don't even think about it."

There's a moment of silence, Ladybug staring intently while Tangerine attempts to find literallt anything of interest to look at. Peeling pub wallpaper, wood floorboard sticky with old spilled alcohol, his brother… already asleep.

"Did you give him—"

"Just a pinch of it, thought he needed the rest. He been taking good care of you?" Ladybug asks, gesturing towards the bar. "Didn't think you'd still be able to talk, I'm impressed."

Tangerine shouldn't feel so proud of that, but he holds his head a little higher on the way to a stool.

"It'll take more than one bullet to shut me up for goos. And yeah, he's been a star."

He makes himself comfortable, and Ladybug sets down his card. Must be paying out of guilt, Tangerine decides. It's the only thing that makes sense.

"What are you doing here anyway? Another job?" "Nah, taking a break. Considering dropping it all together, honestly, packing in."

Tangerine bristles. "That's dumb as fuck."

Both he and Ladybug some equally surprised by that kneejerk reaction while their drinks are served.

"I mean," Tangerine restarts, taking a sip to stall. What does he mean? "Think you're just in the wrong… department. Snatch n' grabs are fine, but you'd make the big bucks in assassination, the way things happen around you."

Ladybug doesn't seem entirely convinced, tracing the rim of his glass and seemingly unaware of his companion watching like a hawk.

"I don't want that crap to happen, y'know? But when life gives you tangerines—" "Lemons," the Brit corrects, "You're shit at phrases, mate."

Ladybug shifts, clearing his throat. "Right. Anyway, it is almost a waste for all that to happen over objects. Kind of like… How Jesus died for our sins, so might as well go all out or he died for nothing?"

Tangerine chuckles, properly chuckles, as he glances away in an attempt to hide a smile. "Not religious, but I don't think that's meant to be the take away."

"Mm, fair."

They fall into an easy quiet as they continue to drink, both deep in thought, and both happening to decide to pipe up at the same time.

"Don't suppose you have an extra spot?" "Could always take you under our wing?"

Seems that's decided, they're on the same page about one thing at least. Tangerine raises his glasses, and Ladybug clinks his own against it.

"You're breaking the news to my handler, though." "Slimy bastard, Ladybug."

[light-lanterne]

hi ✨💖 i love your writing ❤️ can you briefly explain the titles of your stories? they are very interesting! 🥰💕

hello ! thank you so much~! glad you like my stuff :] i'll try to keep it brief~

🌷 the darkest eyes: this is just a random name, tbh. there's no grand message or complex metaphor; it's just a reference to mike's eye colour as perceived by hopper.

🕰️ the trees are growing restless: so, these are actually the lyrics of the 1994 song 'summer dying fast' by cradle of filth, one of my absolute favourite extreme metal bands. to be completely honest, i was just listening to the song as i worked on the first chapter so the lyrics don't fully fit the story. that said, i think they do fit the last scene of the show rather well~

i watch the storm approaching, the darkness calls my name. the trees are growing restless, they feel the season change. their fruit has putrified, forbidden once and bound to die. the thread of life lies severed on the brink of paradise. grinning winds of hate unfurled. dash towers tall that grip the sun. talons stretch her veil. reclamation, our time has come…

🐈‍⬛ maybe i was destined to—: more lyrics! these are for the song 'strangers' by bring me the horizon. these fit the mood a bit more~ if you search for it, please mind the video. it's very creepy :S

break me down, break me down, make me get better. i confess that i'm a mess, some kind of error. well, maybe i was destined to disappear. we're just a room full of strangers looking for something to save us; alone together, we're dying to live and we're living to die. it never stops, can't erase this, so cross out my eyes, tear the pages. 'cause you and i, we're just dying to live and we're living to die. where did we go? we're all alone, all alone. no place like home; take us back to yesterday. sos, save us from ourselves.

🎻 4'33'': this is another musical one, albeit weirder. it's a reference to an experimental composition of the same name, conceived in 1947 by john cage. i think it's best if you look for it if you want to understand what type of song it is; the meaning and correlation to the story should be relatively clear once you listen to it~!

🕊️ sin deep, my darling angel: another reference to cradle of filth! this is a slight variation from 'sin deep my wicked angel', a rather beautiful and haunting instrumental piece from 2001~ i changed it so it fit the theme better :]

🦇 when our hearts lie six feet under: uh,,, another cradle of filth one x.x listen, their lyrics are beautiful, okei? this is from 2021, from their song 'necromantic fantasies'

when the moon is full and the wolves howl in the forest, would you take my hand and lead us both on our final voyage? would we share our dreams, those necromantic fantasies? really, could we ever be apart when our hearts lie six feet under?

fun fact, the title of the song has a double meaning: the obvious interpretation about dark arts, and a play on words! necro (death) + romantic = a romance that can only happen in death~ i thought it fit the vampire theme rather well

💐 how many tears to nurture a rose: ,,,yeah, uh,,, hi. my name is angel and i get hyperfixated on things x.x anyway, more cradle of filth !! the song (also from 2021) has the same title, but this one doesn't really fit the story all that well :( alas, it was a great title for the concept so here we are !

i did try to use some lyric from another song, 'discourse between a man and his soul', but it's far too dramatic of a title for this story x.x these lyrics are very pretty and fitting, thought~

oh my beautiful friend, i will love thee until the end is nigh. and in time, i'll find thee in my arms on the vast other side.

🔪 ...but here is one: okay, we have escaped the hyperfixation~ we're still on the songs, though. this is from the 1995, stunning song 'all flowers in time bend towards the sun', by jeff buckley and elizabeth fraser. it's an unreleased little song, very intimate and tender, and it's referenced in one of my main inspirations for this story, 'the cat lady'.

all flowers in time bend towards the sun. i know you say that there's no-one for you, but here is one.

in the game itself, it's mentioned by one of the main characters, who is trying to get through to our very depressed protagonist. she's essentially letting our protagonist know that some day she will find happiness, and that she's there for her~

🚀 until the stars all fall down: last but not least ! another song one, this is from the soundtrack of the inspiration game itself, it's called 'everything's alright', by laura shigihara. i shan't spoil too much of it; just know it plays at perhaps the most emotional moment of the game x.x

when this world is no more, the moon is all we'll see. i'll ask you to fly away with me. until the stars all fall down, they empty from the sky. but I don't mind, if you're with me, then everything's alright.

edit: the story is now called “telomeres”. it's a reference to the sleep token song of the same name.

and that's that ! i hope this isn't too long x.x thanks for the question and for being so sweet~!

[pineappleciders]

ayoo matchups are open!!

I don't want to like, flood you with requests and all kjfhdsfkdsfhd so sorry if you've got a lot in your inbox. But I just couldn't pass up the opportunity for a fun little matchup! Anyways, here's a little bit about me!

-> I'm mspec, so I'm fine with being matched up with anyone in the OMOgang (however I lean towards men/masc-alined genders)

-> I use she/her/hers, they/them/their, it/it/its, li/lil/lilas, and sometimes voi/void/voids pronouns

-> I'm genderdoe/genderfae (well really a subset of that gender, but people know genderfae better)

-> As for my personality, I start off pretty quiet around most people. I'm neurodivergent, and don't want to risk saying something 'stupid.' So, I keep my mouth shut. But once I learn someone isn't going to judge, I can go on for hours about my special interest, which happens to be character/OC creation. I'm pretty damn creative if I do say so myself!

-> I can get really loud and say some really stupid stuff, and I love it when others can do the same. By stupid, I don't mean 'hot takes' or anything, more so that I forgot the word for grey and called it dark white.

-> I have a very strong sense of right and wrong, even if to some people it's a little skewed (AKA 'murder is okay in some situations'). However, I struggle to actually stand up for myself when people go against me due to an intense fear of getting yelled at. Yippee!

-> Right. Fears. I'm scared of worms. :)

-> I do actually run a few headcanon/writing blogs for different fandoms. I won't be sharing them because they ~suck~ but oh well. I actually really, really love writing and have an Ao3 account for it.

Now for some fun facts that I couldn't flesh out into paragraphs!

-> I love giving and receiving physical touch as a love language

-> I'm about 168 cm (5'5")

-> I'm on my laptop 24/7 (mainly Tumblr)

-> I love space. And Saturn... :))))

-> OLD BALLGOWNS AND NIGHTGOWNS 11/10

-> I have a bob cut, but I'm hoping to get it that hair that curls up at the end. Y'know that old fashioned stuff? Yeah, that.

-> KEL AND HERO BEST CHARACTERS

Okay I'm gonna stop info-dumping on you now haha. Sorry if this was too much information! Lol.

-🪐

A/N: dont worry i dont mind one bit!! i love hearing people talk about whatever. i honestly couldn't decide who i saw you with better, so i did two characters separately!!

I MATCH YOU WITH...

RW AUBREY and RW KEL!!!!

as for AUBREY, she's also kind of quiet around people she doesn't know well, so it'll take some time for you two to get to know each other

as you get closer, though, she starts caring for you more and goes lengths to protect you

you two both have strong opinions on what's right and wrong, and she really likes that about you

she's sure to not raise her voice around you, and if she slips up or gets angry then she apologizes deeply and feels awful about it

she chuckles in amusement if you say some stupid shit like dark white, that's one of the many things she likes about you

AUBREY relates to the fear of being scared of blurting something out or saying dumb things. but the two of you slowly try to overcome it, one step at a time

if you bring up a blog or your writing hobby she wants to know more about it and potentially read some stuff, but she doesn't pressure you or anything

i like to think AUBREY also really likes space so u guys will just like. stargaze together a lot on the picnic blanket by the lake

likes seeing your characters and hearing about them,, i think she's the type to memorize everything you said and start doodling the character on her schoolwork or something as if it's her own

i personally headcanon AUBREY as about 5'9", and sometimes she uses you as a personal armrest (KEL also does the same, more often on your head than your shoulder cuz he's like 6'0" or something)

as for KEL, i think you two click very well

he's kinda scared to push your or cross your boundaries, so don't be surprised if he kind of separates himself from you for awhile

he's used to being called stupid or pushy, so it'll help if you reassure him (and he'll do the same for you!!)

KEL is similar to you in the way that he has a very strong sense of justice, and what's right and wrong. but, different to you, he's the first one to step up and defend himself/you and state what he thinks is right

you mention anything about your OCs or writing or anything that interests you at all?? he wants to hear everything about it

he might get a lil distracted and space out but he really does want to listen, he thinks ur creativity is incredibly awesome and he's always in awe of it

you two come up with chaotic ideas sometimes together like ur,,, conspiring like evil scientists or some shit. sometimes you both blurt out the same thing on accident like ur on the same wavelength

KEL's love language is also physical touch, so he'll always be leaning on you, holding your wrist, wrapped his arm around you, etc. if you two are cuddling or something he probably has to get up and move around a lot

he's gotten a lot better with staying still (when he was 12 he had to be moving and doing something constantly), but he still needs to get the wiggles out every now and then

[castlebyersafterdark]

(Do yall know how many asks I get requesting details and preferences on the intricacies of anal sex prep? Yall. Suspension of disbelief. There's so many advice and sexual health articles out there to read up on if you're so curious, it's... implied. No offense to the curious mind, I appreciate the genuine approach, but I ain't including all that in a fic hahaha. ANYWAY

you thought you could hide this in the strikeout but vinny dahling, i can read Strike (TM) AAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA CRUELLA DE VIL LAUGH

anyway. so i have never asked for this in an anon lol but i have to empathise with the dear and curious readers (most likely girls but maybe baby gays or straight guys who are curious???? shoutout to all the lurking straight dudes here on vinny's blog lol). i think sexfic can be hot and heightened reality, but its also nice to add some realism and it can be aspirational too. youre kind of a king of realistic sex in hcs and fics in the spicy byler fandom tbh. youre invested in realism and emotion in a way many other writers arent. and ofc, you have life experience.

so i think its just a case of - well, for me, i think its just interest to see how the practicalities could be worked into fic. because yes there is info available, but those articles dont tell you how to incorporate the necessities into an actual scenario or story thats still sexy. i just think it would be incredible and so sexy to read a fic (or see a film!) where the nuts and bolts of everything were included. messy, maybe it fails, but yeah. it makes younger people especially hopeful, because it validates the frequent fails of early sex experiences. and thats byler! i know youre working on a fic of their early relationship so I'm sure you'll grace us with some Very Realistic details about anal sex prep and make it poetic in its realism, too. if anyone can, its you! whenever youre ready, im sure lots of us will be happy to read that.

love you vinny.

HAHAHA well 😉

And it's no shade to those lovely, curious, inquiring minds. It's realistic!! It's obviously going to cross the mind, I get it! Maybe, just getting too nitty gritty and acknowledging all the hyper-real aspects of stuff has a twinge of embarrassment, a sort of mindset where it's like, oh I'm enjoying writing about fictional sex and sharing little hints at personal sexcapades, but there are times where I don't want to be seen as a beacon of real advice and especially not become a go-to sexual health educator hahaha. I'm just being silly or creative most of the time.

But... yeah. I can't deny the fact that I do enjoy having my niche being a little bit of a realistic approach to my fanworks. It's pretty fun, because I've mostly dabbled in the ridiculous or lofty before now - but I switched up styles and approach and what I always wanted was an honest sort of insight and writing style. Found it in this fandom of all places, wild. So, yeah. Authenticity. Love that, strive for that. I appreciate the kind words and faith in me!!

Very true though that more very realistic media in general would be super interesting, and I think more things these days are surprising me in positive ways. We do need more realism for many aspects and depictions of the intricacies of intimacy and relationships. For sure. I will say... I do think you and others will find a lot of this in that fic I'm slowly working on. That's why it's gonna take awhile! I think something like that is gonna be more long form if I want to say what I want to say. Of course here's stuff in the fic meant to be hot, but most of it is just... exploratory and trying stuff through storytelling. Depicting how two young men entering a sexual relationship together with very little reference points might deal. Ohhh, it's got awkward moments, it's got not-so refined sex, it's got realism in what is actually happening - I think you'll find what you and others are looking for there. It's my realism fic while a lot of my other stuff does have that typical fanfic mystical world where things just somewhat... gloss over reality to an extent haha.

Love you too anon ❤️❤️

[deadlysmiles70]

Sharks are so weird, bro. They can reproduce in 4 different ways, and we just pay no mind to that.

You got the sharks who straight out just give live birth, aka viviparous. Bull, hammerhead, and lemon sharks are examples of viviparous species. The babies do start with a yoke, even though this reproduction process is similar to mammalian species. Sharks are Kinda like inverse platypus, platypus still being considered mammals even though they lay eggs.

Ovoviviparous is kinda similar in the way that certain species of shark birth their young. However, this is more a cross between oviparpus and viviparous- hense, the presence of both ovi and vivi within the word. Sharks who are ovoviviparous have their babies in eggs. However, instead of laying them, they keep their eggs within their bodies until they hatch and exit out. Examples of some ovoviviparous species are nurse, whale, and great white sharks. Something that is common in ovoviviparous is embryonic cannibalism, notably in sand toger sharks. This is when the babies will eat each other before they are born. These Sharks develop embryonic teeth, and boy, do they sure use them!

Oviparpus species of shark are sharks that lay eggs. Some species examples of this are catsharks, zebra sharks, and horn sharks. I'd definitely look into what some different kinds of shark eggs look like. They're very interesting! I think I personally I like the spiral shape of horn shark eggs. They're pretty in their own way. Shark eggs are also sometimes called mermaid purses!

The last type of reproduction in sharks is parthenogenesis. This is when sharks reproduce asexually (without a partner). There isn't a group of sharks in particular that do just this, though it is often seen in Zebra sharks within captivity. I'm guessing that is the case due to an easier time observing this kind of shark's actives and the introduced variable that a lack of mate could induce such a function. This type of reproduction can also occur in reptiles too.

Overall, it seems though that a larger number of sharks don't actually lay their eggs. Which I guess is fair in the context that this is the ocean and eldritchian terrors reside there, so if I were a larger fish that had the capabilities to defend myself fairly easily while also having youth that could be way more likely to be eaten by larger things, then yeah I guess I ain't leaving them in mermaid purses.

But anyway! Thanks for reading through my shark rant, and here is my drawing of a nurse and hammerhead shark as a treat! I wish you a wonderful whatever-time-it-is-for-you!

Oh, and if you have a favorite shark, feel free to share about it!

Sources: https://www.fisheries.noaa.gov/feature-story/sharpen-your-shark-facts

https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/do-sharks-lay-eggs.html

https://scubashackcoz.com/shark-reproduction/

https://noaateacheratsea.blog/tag/viviparous/

https://www.judy-c.com/work/sand-tiger-shark-ovophagy

Book I took some pictures/info from:

[papirouge]

Clicked the link for you from that other anon 👍🏾

It highlighted how in the US at least, the number of people who call themselves Christians on these polls are falling faster. Active church membership has fallen below 50% for the first time. By 2070, of this trend keeps up, the Christian majority will disappear.

It’s interesting to read because as someone who grew up Christian many people who call themselves Christian and go to church aren’t really Christian, I believe real number of people who are Christ-like right now is very small. USAmerican Christians often have their priorities set to be more about their ego and nationalism than actually follow Christ’s word. Right now, when Christians make up about 65% of the country already, many are outspoken about how Jesus is too liberal and his message is too weak. They want some overly muscular tattooed warlord Jesus who loves guns, hates socialism and stands for nationalism. When at least in my mind he was a brown Palestinian man who loves to laugh, enjoy the beauty of gods creations, and loved to share the word of God. He didn’t ignore or condemned anyone regardless of their background or profession, because Gods word is for everyone to hear. He is pure and comfort. He wouldn’t separate women from the group for being women, and he wouldn’t ignore children. He gave his word and it was up for the people to decide to follow because God have us free will and wants us to follow him willingly, not under threat of violence.

Anyway, yeah, I hope more americans study more about the history of the world back then, I hope more people maybe learn the languages and understand the Bible instead of using it to be hateful. Then the numbers of christians in these polls would be better reflected

Also happy Easter 🙌🏾

For context, that anon was a Zionist hater/troll that was pissy at me for calling out genocide.

So in a typical Zionist fashion she tried to used those articles to mock Christianity. She really thought she did something by popping up those articles but she only exposed how slow she is because it's a well documented fact that Christianity is losing influence in the western world, while it's growing in developing countries, such as Africa and Asia..

It's very embarrassing to see people like her think the USA is a relevant compass to grasp the dynamic of the Church. Most Christians on this planet aren't Americans, let alone White or Westerner. This anon stunt screams typical yankee main character syndrome.

I always said that USAmericans Christian were the most degenerate flock of Christians and that we global Christians didn't claim them. Just today I crossed sword with Christians on TikTok about OSAS, and the lot of them didn't even know about the story or Ananias and Saphira. They either thought it was the old testament, when it's in the new one (Ananias ans Saphira were Christian converts who lived in a Christian commune administered by Peter (see Acts 5:1-11) or that I was making this story up🤦🏾‍♀️ Many American Christian are absolutely uneducated about the Bible. They never read it back to back. They are just too lazy to do so and let their (most likely corrupted) pastor spoonfed them with cherry picked passage.

I'm not saying you have to remember the entire bibles, but reading it's entire content will greatly help you having ringing alarms whenever someone says stuff that has absolutely no place in that book. For example, there was a post floating around radblr mocking Christianity and quoting a book comparing women to dogs. And as someone who read the Bible back to back, I clocked that BS immediately bc I knew for a fact that 1) women were NEVER compared to dogs in the Bible 2) the only comparison that's made in the Bible between dogs and humans is in Matthew 15:26 in the mouth of Jesus who's speaking parabolically about Jews vs Gentiles [earning themselves a seat at the feast] - and btw Jesus used the word kunarion which means puppy/little (family) dog and not dog in a regular/lowkey derogatory sense that's rather translated from keleb. You'll also note that the kunarion dog is exclusively used in that scene of Jesus parabolically replying to Samaritan woman and not any other Bible passage that rather featured the keleb dog that has a derogatory nuance into it (unlike kunarion has an affectionate one which is why that word only came from the mouth of Jesus). Sorry for the MASSIVE tangent.

Anyway, it turns out that book was apocrypha (those dumb radfem though Ecclesiastes (in the Bible) and Ecclesiasticus (apocrypha) were the same book...🤦🏾‍♀️) so it was normal I had no recollection of reading in the Bible comparison women to dogs....

Thank you for your commitment by reading these articles though 🫡 i legit felt like it was laced with some malware crap lol And happy (belated) Easter to you too. I'm really showing how slow I am at replying asks now 😅

[agentmarcuspike]

i am eternally grateful that the universe made you a writer and made sure we met over this shared interest because the way this story, these characters, have fully taken root in my cerebrum, core, and cock…

it’s like, i know it’s Joel from The Last of Us, and i can feel that, but he’s also so real as a characters of his own, and i see him and his conflicting emotions and his hopelessness and pain and love so very very clearly

and it really is the most satisfying feeling, when reading a story, to be able to let your eyes just glide across the words and not have to conjure up any images at all because it’s so perfectly descriptive it just happens automatically. my eyes never skip ahead, they never pause or stumble, because the way you write is so poetic and rhythmic and comfortable to read.

anyway, onto my favorite moments:

first of all

“Now how many times do I have to tell you there’s no good Mexican food in New York?”

is this…. just true or have you also seen the interview in which señor pascal says this?

Knew that sometimes her childhood felt like a knife stuck in her throat, and on those days, she had to decide whether to leave it in and stem the blood flow, or pluck out the blade and watch everything turn red.

i love a knife analogy, in general, but, especially for ellie…. joel should read this (re plucking the blade out)

His knuckles feel tight – he wants to pull his hand back and crack them. Wants to feel the joints pop beneath his skin, let the tension slip away like a sigh.

some might say “it’s just cracking ur knuckles”. i show them this. feeling seen and understood. it’s also such a good picture of how he’s so aware of his body. A+

AND THEN—

“That I loved you.”

jessie i literally SCREECHED. out loud. i felt it coming but the slap still stung (alliteration alarm) like a… knife i guess. been thinking about people’s theories about this part of the story, about Joel and Rachel, and you just went THERE. insane behavior, i hate it (lovingly)

and this too, so painful

In his mind all he can think of is every cup of coffee in her office, every borrowed book, every sly joke in the corridor at work. Comforting smiles offered at conferences, snarky notes passed back and forth during faculty meetings. His friend.

like, yeah, rejection hurts but also rejecting hurts

and finally,

A hunger that can only ever be sated like the taking of a sacrament – on his knees, devotion in his eyes.

religion and sex, name a more iconic duo. you know i love to see it

ilysm jessie, i’m your biggest fan, i swear to GOD

ps the fucking right side painting in your header is fucking pain, and ALSO read these lyrics from Taylor’s “right where you left me” and weep:

Friends break up, friends get married / Strangers get born, strangers get buried / Trends change, rumors fly through new skies / But I'm right where you left me

Help, I'm still at the restaurant / Still sitting in a corner I haunt / Cross-legged in the dim light / They say, "What a sad sight," / I swear you could hear a hair pin drop / Right when I felt the moment stop / Glass shattered on the white cloth / Everybody moved on, I, I stayed there / Dust collected on my pinned-up hair / They expected me to find somewhere / Some perspective, but I sat and stared right where you left me

ok bye :)

a lover's pinch | six

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel and rachel have dinner. a confession is made. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, JOEL POV, sexting/nudes, joel has bad restaurant etiquette lmao, descriptions of arousal, references to past smut, the guilt and shame that sometimes go so neatly hand in hand with wanting, miller daughter cameo, mild angst, discussion of a car accident. word count: 4.8k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: just a reminder that this is set within ALP5, when joel goes to have dinner w rachel. just a short little peek into my beloved professor’s mind, and some context between j & r. hope you like it x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part six of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five.

Sunday.

“Nina thinks it’ll rain tomorrow. Overcast too, probably.”  

There’s a faint hum through the phone as she speaks. A vague buzz that crackles and pops in almost every beat of silence. Not for the first time, Joel wishes she would let him buy her a new phone.

A gust of wind whips against his face and he cringes, turning his back against the draft.

“Okay,” he replies. “That’s okay, right?”

“It’s fine,” she grumbles. “Wanted to take you to this bar, though. They do these tacos we love. Nina says it’s the best Mexican place in New York.”

“Now how many times do I have to tell you there’s no good Mexican food in New York?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Joel can practically hear her rolling her eyes. He chuckles.

“What time are you coming ‘round?” Ellie asks. “I’ll be in the studio for most of the day, but we normally get home around five. Could do dinner around eight?”

Joel hesitates, and then raises his voice to be heard over the rushing wind. “I was actually thinkin’ I’d come see your studio.”

A moment of humming, crackling silence.

“I’d love to see some of your work,” he continues, peering in through the window of the restaurant. He thinks he can see Rachel through the frosted glass – her mess of dark curls vaguely visible, tucked away somewhere in the corner of the space. He hears Ellie breathing through the phone as he looks. “And s’been too long since you showed your old man any of your paintings.”

“Joel,” she huffs, and it’s that smartass, pained tone that has him grinning wider than anything she’s said up until this point.

It’s few and far between lately – hearing that name coming from her mouth. Joel. Something that’s been intermittent for almost a decade, and has been steadily decreasing since she moved to New York five years ago.

Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad.

Joel for years, and then one day—Dad.

It was Summer; Ellie was eighteen and he was thirty-nine, and this word that he’d grown so accustomed to hearing suddenly felt like a fist squeezing around his heart. It became something new, something different. Because Joel knew that, for her, family had always meant mistrust. Had always meant loneliness. Knew that sometimes her childhood felt like a knife stuck in her throat, and on those days, she had to decide whether to leave it in and stem the blood flow, or pluck out the blade and watch everything turn red.

And then one day, years on, it seemed that she’d drawn that dagger enough times. The blood stopped, the mistrust fell away, and—Dad.

Dad to Sarah and now, finally, Dad to Ellie.

��Ellie,” he imitates her tone, well-versed in mirroring her attitude after so many years of practice.

A voice rears up directly behind him and Joel stiffens, glancing over his shoulder to watch a couple exit the restaurant. Coat collars dragged up to protect their necks, arms linked as they smile and start down the street. He imagines Rachel sitting inside, alone, and his smile falters. He knows he should go back in soon, but can’t quite bring himself to cut this short.

“Yeah, okay,” Ellie answers finally, and he can feel the weight that rests in those words.

The admission, but also everything that goes unsaid alongside it. A silent acknowledgement of years spent reading between the lines, trying to know each other; years of her locking her bedroom door, hiding her journals, her artbooks, her pencils. Anything to keep someone else from seeing the way she expresses herself – from understanding that she feels anything. And this yeah, okay – well, it’s as close to I love you as the two of them ever get.

Joel says, “I’ve been missin’ you, kiddo.”

And she says, “I know.”

More silence. More contemplation of how to respond, how to keep emotions level when he is not Joel in this moment, but Dad.

Plucking out the blade.

“Ten tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the address,” Ellie says after a while. “Don’t be late or I’m not showing you shit, old man.”

Heat blasts his face when he steps back inside the restaurant. He tugs his jacket off as he wanders his way toward their little corner table inside San Vecchio—old saint. A small Italian place that Rachel likes to visit whenever she’s the city, and has slowly but surely grown on him.

When he gets close enough to see the table his stomach drops, face twisting into something apologetic as he lowers himself into his chair.

“Shit,” Joel mutters, staring at their food. Brought out while he was on the phone, sitting untouched; she didn’t even pick up her fork in his absence. A shameful heat rises in his face. “I’m sorry, Rach.”

“Hon,” she just laughs him off. “It’s okay, it only just came out.”

He nods, grateful, and lets her pour him a generous glass of wine. Red. A bottle of the Carignan, please, he remembers her telling the waiter. Although, when he takes a sip, he can’t tell the difference between this and the twenty-dollar cabernet he buys once a fortnight from the grocer.

They press the lips of their glasses together and murmur soft calls of cheers and another conference done, the words all but swallowed up by the raucous sounds around them.

“How is she then?” she prompts, never able to tame her curiosity.

“Ellie?” Joel’s eyebrows jut up, and he sets his wine glass down. “Good, yeah, good. It was nice to hear her voice, I, uh, I’ve missed too many of that kid’s calls over the past few months.”

Rachel nods, and when she smiles his chest feels a little lighter, because it’s the type of smile that says it’s okay, everything is okay, you’re a good dad, you took the call. And she has always had that kind of soothing effect on him, since the day he met her all those years ago. There’s this compassion to her character; a warmth akin to that of a sister. Smarter than hell and kinder than she’s ever been given credit for.  

“Are you seeing her while you’re in town?”

“Mhm, tomorrow.”

“Well, that will be lovely,” she beams and takes a sip of her wine. Carignan stains her mouth. “Is she still with Nina?”

“She is.”

“God, that must be, what, four years they’ve been together now? That’s great, Joel.”

“I’m happy for her,” he smiles, gripping his fork. “They’re renting out this art studio together at the moment – Nina’s an artist too, did I—?”

“Yeah, you told me.”  

“Yeah, they’ve been using the space to work on some new stuff. Ellie was tellin’ me ‘bout this gallery downtown, how they’ve offered her some exhibit space. Gonna have a show down there in March.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” Rachel’s eyebrows raise, top lip quirking into a soft smirk as she twirls her fork through a mess of red pasta. “Do you think they’ll get married? Follow in Sarah and Tim’s footsteps?”

Joel can’t help but laugh at the idea. He tries to imagine Ellie and Nina in a chapel, or on a beach, or anywhere, professing their love for one another with friends and family watching on. Tries to imagine Ellie, all tattoos, messy hair, and gangly arms, tucked into a suit or a dress. The image doesn’t come easily.

“I don’t really think they’re the type,” he admits, and Rachel laughs too then.

“No,” she agrees. “I guess not.”

She asks more questions about the girls, the way she always does. Asks about Sarah’s job at the primary school, if teaching is all she thought it would be.

And something like halfway through their meal, around a mouthful of food, Rachel says, “You know I’m glad we’re here, because I need to ask you something.”

Joel’s hands still, face going slack as he meets her eye. There’s something conniving in them. Something sly in the way she smiles, baring her teeth at him. It makes his stomach twist into a tight, burning knot. What does she know?

“Okay,” he says slowly, lowering his knife.

“So,” she hums. “At the conference yesterday…”

“Yeah?” he rasps, blunt nails digging into his thigh beneath the table.

“I couldn’t ask you about it because I didn’t want anyone to overhear us, but… did you see what Professor Neilson was wearing? That blazer?”

“Jesus,” he deflates.

“Oh, come on,” she sputters, and there’s lipstick stained on her front teeth and he finds himself smiling too, relaxing.

“You’re a filthy gossip, you know that?” he raises an eyebrow.

She grins back at him. Winks and says, “Don’t act like you don’t love it, Miller.”

So, for an hour they eat, and talk, and drink. Don’t stop until their cheeks are sore from smiling and their ribs are tight and aching from laughter.  

With full bellies and rosy cheeks, they scrape their plates clean. Lips purse and pucker around final sips of wine, and then… and then Rachel reaches across the table and places her hand atop his.

And Joel has never noticed that she has sunspots across her knuckles. Never noticed that she wears a ring on her pinkie finger, one with a dark emerald stone in the middle. Never noticed the thin white scar beside the nail on her index. She squeezes his hand, the pad of a finger skimming his wrist, and he remembers how he held someone else’s wrist only hours before this. Felt her skin beneath his fingers – the frailty of the tendons and veins beneath it, swimming with life as his thumb pressed down.   

Joel feels his eye twitch. Works to keep his face relaxed, calm. And when she leaves her hand there, he laughs a little. A choked, wary sound. Turns his hand over so his knuckles are against the table and his palm is against her palm and squeezes once in return. Rachel isn’t smiling anymore.

“You okay, Rach?”

“Do you…” she pauses, mouth twisting into a shy smile as she clears her throat. Joel feels something heavy settle in his stomach. A type of dread that curdles and burns like red sky at morning. “Do you remember when Sarah was in that car accident a few years back?”

Joel swallows. Her hand feels too warm against his, her palm tacky with sweat.

“We were… we were at work, and… and Tim called you and told you she was in the hospital—”

He almost cringes at the memory. Her husband’s name flashing across his phone screen during a lecture. Stomach churning and why is Tim calling me, heart racingand Tim never calls. Remembers hearing those panicky breaths down the line and thinking Texas and Maine had never felt further apart than in that moment.

“You drove me to the airport,” he nods. His knuckles feel tight – he wants to pull his hand back and crack them. Wants to feel the joints pop beneath his skin, let the tension slip away like a sigh.

“You were so distraught,” Rachel sighs. “I’d never seen you like that. So uncomposed, so… chaotic.”

Joel huffs out an awkward laugh and tries to pull his hand back, but she squeezes harder. Keeps it in place beneath her own.

“What’s this all about?” his eyebrows furrow, face pinching into a sort of scowl. He can feel it, he can always feel it when his face does this. So unpleasant, so unwelcoming, and he knows it. Just never figured out how to stop it from happening.

“We were in the car,” she continues, and her eyes are so earnest now. So wide, the whites shining, her lashes darkened and fanned out around them in a way he’s never seen before. She’s wearing makeup. “And you didn’t even have a bag packed, you just wanted to get to your girl. Needed to see her with your own eyes, make sure she was okay.”

His jaw feels tight inside his head; teeth clenched painfully, digging into the gums around his molars as the memory plays in his mind.

Tim’s voice wavering, crying, she was unconscious when they pulled her out.

His hand is numb beneath Rachel’s. She’s fine, he reminds himself. Sarah’s fine, that was years ago.

“I think I knew then,” she says quietly.

“Knew what?” Joel tries to keep his voice level. Ignoring the odd feeling that twists in his chest and has his heart racing faster, so much faster than normal, faster than it has ever raced for Rachel.

“That I loved you.”

It’s almost dreamlike, the way everything seems to blur and fade around them after she says it. Or perhaps nightmarish is the right word. A sharp pain sparks between his ribs and he feels his body stiffen and then loosen all at once. Face, shoulders, hand beneath hers – everything softens. Fuck. His mouth tastes like sandpaper, tongue resting fat and gravelly against the roof of it as she stares at him.

When he doesn’t say a word, she says, “I’d always known you were so kind, so generous to the people around you. But to see the way you love? It’s… shit, Joel, I just knew.”

He’s convinced his throat is tightening.

“And I held it in all of these years, and I’m sorry for that. I was just never sure of how you felt, and you never tried anything with me, never hinted at any feelings. But after the conference yesterday...”

“The conference?” he whispers. He pictures that bench outside NYU. Remembers the nasty wind, an empty champagne flute on the ground, the side of his body going hot where it pressed against hers.

“Walking around that hall together,” Rachel smiles. “You kept holding your arm out for me to hold, and I thought, god, maybe this is it. Maybe you actually feel the same.”

Joel imagines that this must be what people describe as critical velocity. Everything that once was smooth turns turbulent. Every second, every minute, that he’s allowed himself to careen forward, wanton and reckless, on the deliciously destructive course he’s set for himself – all of it just for someone close to him to step directly into his line of fire.

And his silence is so painfully telling. He knows immediately when it’s been too long, too much quiet, too many seconds of nothing said, of no reassurances offered. The muscle in her jaw ticks, and a vertical line appears between pinched eyebrows. Confusion, surprise, hurt. Her hand pulls back, and he tucks his in his lap quickly.

“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh, shit.”  

Joel is suddenly certain that he’s going to be sick. His hands shake beneath the table, a violent tap tap tap where they’re clasped against the inside of his thigh.

“Rachel—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Please, don’t apol—”

“I shouldn’t have said—”

“Rachel,” Joel’s voice raises, just a little, just enough to make her pause, enough for conversation at the table beside them to halt for a second. “If anythin’, I should be the one apologisin’.”

She laughs; a sad, quiet thing. Shakes her head at him.

“I guess I… somewhere in my head, I thought you knew,” Rachel says quietly. “Thought you….” The unspoken words hang in the air between them. Thought you felt the same.

And it hurts. His skin prickles at the sound of her voice; laced with pain, with rejection. Your fault, he thinks. That pain is your fault.

“Is there someone else?” she asks then, and her voice is so feeble. So small, so un-Rachel that it makes his chest feel tight. Your fault.

Joel sighs, cringes, fumbles for the right words. The words to explain something that he himself doesn’t even fully understand. Words that will make her feel better, that will put her at ease. Put him at ease.

“It’s not….” he trails off, half-prepared to lie. But then he meets her gaze. Sees the tears that have settled on her waterline and knows he can’t. Wants to hate her for asking, wants to beg her to take back the question. But in the end he just admits quietly, “I suppose there is.”

She sniffles, and when she speaks again, it almost sounds like a question.

“You never mentioned anyone.”  

“I know,” Joel nods. “I’m sorry, I think I just… it’s complicated, and it… it’s new.”

“New,” she repeats softly. “And you never… you never thought of me that way.” This time it isn’t posed like a question. There is nothing open ended about it. Instead it’s resigned; final.

The corners of her mouth are downturned, and her lower lip wobbles, a movement so miniscule that he could have missed it if his eyes weren’t trained on her face. Trying painfully to understand this situation that feels as if it has crept up on him in his sleep. 

“I’m sorry,” Joel finds himself saying again, and he thinks his eyes must be wide, unblinking, because they’re dry, and he feels panicked.  

In his mind all he can think of is every cup of coffee in her office, every borrowed book, every sly joke in the corridor at work. Comforting smiles offered at conferences, snarky notes passed back and forth during faculty meetings. His friend. One of the truest, longest, most persevering ones in his life. One so dear to his heart. The idea of all of that being no more seems almost too painful to contemplate in the middle of a restaurant, with your fault thundering in his chest.

Rachel waves a hand. Feigns nonchalance and offers a watery smile.

“I’m happy for you, Joel,” she says. He doesn’t miss the waver in her voice, nor the harsh splash of crimson humiliation that stains the skin of her face. “I am. Really.”

Except he doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know what there is to be happy for. Can only watch her face. Can only sit, and stare like a fool at the way the skin beneath her eyes tightens as she draws back tears.

“I’m—” Rachel swallows. Sucks in a huge breath and flattens her palms against the table. Her napkin, stained with soft blots of red and brown, is pressed beneath the fingers of her left hand. The one with the sunspots and the ring and the scar. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to use the restroom—”

“Rach,” he tries, hand reaching across the table for—for what? Joel isn’t sure. What is there to do? To say? “What can I do?”

“It’s okay,” she stands, holds a hand out to silence him. Steps out from the behind table and squeezes past him. Her fingers brush against his arm as she goes. “It’s fine, I’m fine, I just need a second to freshen up.”

Joel watches her weave through the restaurant, shifting around tables, until her back disappears through a door at the far end of the room.

There’s a minute of painful quiet. A sort of buzzing in his ears that won’t go away. For a moment all he’s aware of is the look of disdain coming from the woman on the table to his left, and the sharp pain in his chest, and then the sounds of the restaurant come rushing back in. Cutlery scraping against plates, conversation, laughter, the sound of a bell ringing. And something buzzing, really truly buzzing this time. Something against his leg.

Joel pulls his phone out of his pocket and tries not to wince when he sees her name on the screen.

Are you enjoying your dinner?

The glance he spares over his shoulder is short, searching, looking to see if she’s coming back yet. Don’t make this worse than it already is.

Yeah, the restaurant is nice.

What are you doing? 

Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed

Something tightens in his stomach, and he knows what she’s doing, knows this game so well. The way she always manages to creep beneath his skin. Knows exactly what to say, to do, to have him hanging on her every word.

His fingers hover over the screen, contemplating a response.

Is that right? he types out, and then grimaces, backspacing quickly.  

Want some company? he types next.

“Christ,” Joel mutters under his breath, erasing that too.

Embarrassment itches across his body. And then guilt, like a tidal wave chaser rushing to cool his inflamed skin, as he notices Rachel walking back toward him. You fucking asshole.

He straightens in his seat, tucking his phone out of sight as she hovers beside the table, eyes darting between him and her empty chair. She doesn’t sit down again.

“I think,” she takes a deep breath. “I think I should probably go. Early flight to catch, you know? I need to get some rest.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

He can feel his mouth hanging open, dumbfounded, ridiculous, as his brain scavenges for something to say. Never the right words, never when he needs them. Not for her, and not for Rachel.

Rachel reaches for her purse, and he holds out a hand. “Hey, let me… I’ll cover this.”

She pauses, nods. “Thanks.”

“Course,” he says gruffly. She pulls her coat from the back of her chair, wraps it around herself and does the buttons up slowly. Her mascara is smudged. “Hey, Rach, can we… should we talk about this some more? I don’t want to—”

“Not tonight,” she interrupts sharply. “Please, Joel, I’m sorry, just…. not tonight.”

—lose you.

“Sure, okay.” His throat is tight, your fault lodged heavy against his Adam’s apple. “You need help to get a taxi?”

“I’m fine,” she places a hand lightly on his shoulder, and presses her thumb against the skin beneath his collarbone. “Get home safe, okay? We can talk in Maine.”

“In Maine,” he repeats, and the words split and sour inside his mouth. “Okay.”

He doesn’t watch her leave. Doesn’t want to have to see her retreating from him. Doesn’t want to think about if this will be the last time they get to do this.

The waiter returns and he pays the bill, hastily jotting down a generous tip, and offers the women at the table on his left a tight-lipped smile before standing up.

When he finally makes his way outside, he finds a tax idling by the curb, lights on. The driver notices Joel staring; rolls down the window and raises his eyebrows. Where to?

Joel only shakes his head a little, leans his back against the dank, cold brick wall behind him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before opening his phone, and sends two words.

Show me.

And then, when she doesn’t respond for a moment, he sends another message. Insistent now. Desperate, and even more desperate not to let it show.

I know you want to show me, sweetheart.

And when she does show him, it takes all of his might not to let this guilt consume him. Takes everything not to ruminate on how quickly he can shift from I’m sorry to Show me.

Because her skin.

So much skin.

Soft, smooth; shrouded in a robe that covers more than he’d like, and he knows how it tastes. Knows how it feels. Could press his fingers, his lips, his nose, to every part of it that he’s touched, in the exact same places, from memory alone.

It’s cold outside – windy, the beginnings of tomorrow’s storm twisting through the air. He feels it snake across his neck, curl beneath the lip of his collar, as he takes in the curve of her breast, the stiff point of her nipple, peeking out from behind white fabric. His cock stiffens in his pants.

He gazes at the softest part of her stomach, the thatch of curls that cover her mound, and wants to press his palms against the plush of her thighs. Wants to lay himself atop her, feel that skin against his again, hear her whimper and moan beneath the broad weight of him as he slips inside her. Wants to snatch her finger from her mouth and glide it inside his own. With her slick and her skin against his tongue, he’d sink his teeth in and inhale that warmth, that beating, pulsating force that he’s found himself so intoxicated by.

And to think, only hours ago, he was doing just that. Lowering himself to the ground in a public bathroom and drinking her down. Feeling the muscles in her thighs pull tight and then loose against the sides of his head. Anything to satisfy the craving that only she seems to inspire in him.

Resolute, persistent – a probing, prodding thing that nips at his heels and thrusts him forward at a double time pace.

A hunger that follows him down the nights and down the days.

A hunger that can only ever be sated like the taking of a sacrament – on his knees, devotion in his eyes.

Jesus.

Are you wet?

You know I am.

Are you touching yourself?

Joel’s jaw tightens. He holds his breath and waits. Can’t quite tell what would be worse; knowing that she’s touching herself, alone, thinking about him, or that she isn’t, that she’s waiting for him. He can feel his cock leaking against his thigh.

No.

He exhales heavily, and the faintest hint of a groan slips out with it. Fuck, pull yourself together.

Joel’s fingers float over the keyboard, and for a moment he thinks of Rachel.

Thinks that if he could only bring himself to look up, to look away from her, he might be able to see Rachel still. The back of her coat, the dark scrawl of her hair, disappearing into the night. Joel thinks of the tears in her eyes, taunting him, threatening to spill spill spill, to streak down rosy cheeks and wet the hollow of her throat. Feels something throb and crack in his chest – a painful, resounding ache that hurts so much like fear, like loss. 

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

And wouldn’t that be so much easier? If he were to look away, to chase his friend down the street and tell her that he was wrong, that he wants her, that it makes sense for them to be together. Wouldn’t it be easier if that were true?

But he doesn’t stop looking at her. He thinks of Pothos, of Himeros, and stares at the soft curve of her stomach, the indent of her belly button.  Looks at the way her lower lip rests below her finger and pictures it swollen, slick with a medley of her spit and his. Even notices a small mark, nestled in the crevice between her hip and the top of her thigh. A fading remnant of where his teeth had once pinched – like a tangible little footprint, whispering that he was there.

Longing and desire flame between the cracks of his ribs; a bright white heat that curls itself around your fault until he manages to shake the thought.

What was it that Kaminsky said? There was no mythology: Odysseus hanged himself. Homer drank to death and stank of mud.

And perhaps he was right; for there is no witness to this. No being over his shoulder, God or mortal, to lay their eyes upon this moment and understand that all he has ever known of love is deprivation. That fondest, blindest, weakest part of his being that has always yearned for, or perhaps grieved over, this love that once seemed so intangible and now, at last, maybe he has been deemed worthy of.

Alone so long, living in a body grown accustomed to such quiet. Familiar with no touch other than that of his own rough palms. And now… the intensity of it shakes within him. The urge to sink his teeth in like a bad dog and hold, hold, hold, to consume and be consumed, and never yield to anyone who wants to take this away from him.

No, there is no looking away from that, from her. Joel feels the noose tighten around his neck the longer he stares – a dog on the leash of its own longing, that need only sharpening with every second that dares to pass.

And Joel knows that nothing has ever been easy. Considers the idea that maybe that’s how it was supposed to be for him. And perhaps he doesn’t want easy, doesn’t want simple. No – Joel was always drawn to the flame.

Good.

Dinner finished early. Where are you?

And that flame welcomes him now in kind. The arms of a lover spread open for embrace; the address of her hotel sent directly to his phone.

Joel looks up and makes eye contact with the taxi driver again. Light still on.

Where to?

**the Kaminsky mentioned in this is Ilya Kaminsky, and the quote is from Dancing in Odessa.

thank you for reading! x

[alltheotherblogs]

Friendships gone sour, and friendzoning an entitled brat.

I'm quite lonely now-a-days, wonder why... (That's sarcasm.) But I oft' find myself reminiscing on the past and friendships I've had and lost. One came to mind this evening which ended on a sour note and it wraps around to something I've been thinking about.

Love this fucking gif. Two life long friends showing they can do something that others may perceive as homosexual, despite having no romantic feelings towards each other. And, ironically, I often find people who ship these two despite there being no hint of romance between them. Sorry to burst your bubble, but guys can be close friends without having an underlying romance. Which brings me to what happened. I was friends with a girl (Wow, a guy friends with a girl, scandalous.) Really though, most of my friends growing up have been women, they seem to connect with me better. Not to say that men don't, I just find throughout many opportunities they've failed to connect on the same wavelength. Rambling. This girl and I talked a lot and as far as I was concerned we were on mutual friendship terms, her and I would regularly discuss previous romantic relationships, her in vulgar detail, which I didn't discourage but honestly it grossed me out. I'll admit, it comforted me that there was no semblance of a line to be crossed in sight, as though her and I could discuss anything in confidence, even sexual encounters. However, sexual encounters were not something I was interested in indulging, so it'd often just be her talking in graphic detail as I sat there and went, "Mhm." or, "Wow." or some other contextual acknowledgement of what she was saying. We had connection beyond just talking, we shared hobbies like Dungeons and Dragons and chat-based roleplay/collaborative writing. In fact, we'd written a few really good stories. I'd like to remake a few of those some day... One day, we'd finished a one on one session of D&D... It was a simple one shot, nothing special. But, that's when she popped the big question, "Liam, do you have any feelings for me? I mean beyond just friendly ones?" She asked this almost expectantly and I was almost too stunned to answer, it's as if she had forgotten about how she'd tell me of her past sexual experiences. It was a genuinely bizarre thing to say, especially since nothing romantic had happened in the session prior. I found the courage to tell her; "Of course not. I'm very happy being your friend." Seems that was the wrong answer for her. She genuinely had the gall to ask "Is it because I'm not a virgin?" Uh, yeah, and also no?! I answered her very clearly, "It's got nothing to do with your past romances, I really just am not interested in you beyond a friendly capacity." Paraphrasing a bit of course. Again, seems like it wasn't the correct answer for her little quiz. She left in quite a huff. We were both part of a greater circle of friends and she seemed to think that my feelings of not finding her romantically attractive to be either sexist or otherwise bigoted, because she began expressing to her friends that I was such. Not that I minded, I didn't really care what people called me and honestly the context flew over my head, as dark jokes were common amongst us all. The friends ended up splitting off into two subgroups and it kind of just gets nasty from there... But that leads me into my point.

He ate that like it was his last meal... Maybe it was. Perhaps in a more philosophical sense. As though he left that building without seeing beyond the delivery he'd be soon to make. Anyways My point; women and girls and even some men of a certain persuasion are very entitled to masculine affection. I couldn't for the life of me guess why... (That's sarcasm.) It's as if my love was entitled to her despite the circumstances. Which, obviously it wasn't. I'm an individual, a human, with free will, and a lot of it. For her to feel so entitled to my romantic affection honestly gets my goat to this day. It's not personal, I understand she was in the wrong and probably recognizes that now. But imagine if she doesn't... Imagine if she doesn't understand that affection is not something one is entitled to, and she goes about life with that philosophy. That's a genuinely scary thing to imagine, but a lot of people (mostly women) seem to hold this belief well into their adulthood. My abusive mother is a perfect example of this, she doesn't even just feel entitled to affection from the men in her life, but affection from her children who she has physically, verbally and mentally abused. It's a bizarre view into the mindset of someone so narcissistic. The woman can't even hold down a job and is still dependent on her parents. What a disgusting dreg. I genuinely hate everything she represents, and wish her dead at least weekly. I can't imagine wishing this on half the earths population, and thankfully these narcissistic types are primarily political leftists in western society. I'm not kidding by the way, in europe and the east, this kind of mindset is not as common as it is here. Guess I was just born in the wrong country... Not really, lol, I'm happy with my freedoms. If I was born in japan I cannot imagine how pissed off I'd be that I couldn't buy and own a Galil. (Balashnikov really did his best on that work of art and you can tell.) I guess I feel entitled to my human rights in the same way these entitled women feel towards the affection of men. Hell, lesbians are guilty of this too! I was friends with a lesbian and distinctly remember having a conversation similar to this blog post. I think to wrap this all up, what I really wish is that this bizarre mindset would just end. It's ruined a lot of friendships for me and has caused me a great deal of pain in my life. This most recent one isn't even the most painful or noteworthy. I'll not get into it... I've been surrounded by these types my whole life and it all just comes down to the way women are treated in the modern west. They really aren't given enough reality checks and I personally think things like this should be taught in school, what else is it good for? (Boy, my education experience is another barrel of worms that I'll save for the next post.) Imagine if not just women, but everyone was TAUGHT in school, the morality of expecting affection from those who don't owe it to you. Sure, your mother and father may owe you affection, but the men and women in your life don't, and you shouldn't expect that of them. Great lesson!

Jackpot. Finally landed on a conclusion to this mostly incoherent post.

I've even found that people are so narcissistic and entitled that the moment you reveal a story like this to them, they not only DON'T BELIEVE YOU, but find your reality and life experience to be offensive. It's such a coddled world we live in that we have that privilege. If you feel offended by my story, go drink used toilet water please. No, seriously. DO IT! DO IT NOW!!!

May this post serve as a life lesson and a story. Don't take your friends for granted, and don't feel entitled to anything from them. The only thing they owe you is the bare minimum. Politics are really dumb, and are making you dumber the more you indulge them. Also, I just find that I don't like people who voluntarily associate themselves with the left, I can at least appreciate the honesty of right wingers, but the leftists kind of sicken me with the beliefs prescribed to their party. Here's a tip! American democracy is a fucking sham! Don't associate with any party! YOU ARE BEING SCAMMED BY A CORRUPT SYSTEM!!!! AHAHAHAHA!!! Goodnight everyone! :)

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

Do you mind sharing why you moved around so much in your youth? I find it very interesting bc my parents only moved houses in the same small town before I was born. And then they never moved. I grew up with the same friends from primary school, parted ways in highschool, still run into them sometimes when we visit our hometown at the same time. I really wonder how different it must be for you, making friends and moving away, not crossing path with them anymore, distant memories and loves.

i don't mind sharing! and i do think most ppl are more like your case, with ppl living in the same place/around family their whole life, and my parents did decide to do that eventually lol. we first lived in a city where my grandparents lived too, went to school there, but then we moved from belgium to the US bc my dad went to study there. it was an amazing time where i truly felt i had a great community, despite being so young. amazing school, i played soccer, did ballet, went swimming, gathered at the playground like all the other neighborhood kids... oof. it gets a lil emotional if i think about it too much. what the rest of my childhood could've been yk? anyway, my dad finished his studies and my parents were getting nervous living in the states bc politics were getting more intense back then (it was 2003) and so they moved us back to belgium. not too far from the initial city we lived in, but a village rip. even tho i was still pretty young i remember it as a culture shock lol. i'll just say school sucked. i could never adjust. i had friends all throughout and into high school but i don't remember it fondly, and i just have some friends left from that time. after hs i lived in finland with a host family, ig you could say i tried to escape something, and then i moved to another city in belgium for my studies. and tbh bc of my uprooted weird early childhood i can tell i'm uneasy living somewhere for too long and it sucks. during my studies i changed dorms every year. after my studies i moved to brussels and only stayed for two years bc i got sick of it. then i moved to berlin, which didn't work out in the end, so now i'm back in belgium again in the city where i did uni jhsrkjfr

feels weird to list it all out like that. ig that is also waaaay too much info but yeah. these are def things i've been thinking about more lately bc i never fully realised how it shaped my life to the core. there's def a lack of feeling "at home", a feeling i come close to feeling when i visit where i lived in the US and then it's not even full bc i haven't lived there since i was a kid so. i don't really know it anymore. yeah. here's to making the city i live in now my home, right?