#at the october banquet.

[hanzajesthanza]

truly though, i am comforted by the idea of regis being autistic because… consider. he’s been alive for hundreds of years and has been through so much turmoil and has had to commit to self-improvement and self-control and all of these ideals and principles. and in the same process of that, he had to examine himself—take a good look in the mirror, as the saying goes… though it may not be quite accurate in this case—why he faced these insurmountable issues in the first place which instigated and excerbated his vices in the first place. “treat the cause, not the symptoms.”

and the cause was that he didn’t like himself. he only drank to escape… from himself. so he could be a different self, one that others accepted, but one who very quickly became a terrible person—because that version of himself had none of his ever-so-dislikable and aggravating and unrelatable traits: his know-it-all-isms, his philosophizing, his overthinking. his lack of understanding the social cues he was surrounded by. everything that would “spoil the party.” the libation was the symptom of insecurity and disbelief that anyone could truly accept him for the way he is, unaltered, sober.

and even with all of this time, possibly the span of an entire human life, spent working on himself, spent trying to understand others—he learned two things.

firstly—after all this time—he cannot change himself. he has to live with, and possibly embrace, the parts of himself that long ago made him impossible to gain social approval. even if now, he is living a solitary and even somewhat isolated life.

(note: yes, he only spends three months out of the year nearby fen carn, and the rest of the year he lives in dilingen, in a city—while i don’t doubt that he was an important pillar of the community, with his altruistic tendencies, he also never mentions having any close friends in dillingen. he decided in one night to join geralt’s quest. he didn’t worry that anyone from dillingen would miss him…)

secondly—even after all this time spent trying to have a better relationship with and to fit in with society (and even though he’s become, if i may say with modesty, very good at it, exceptionally good at it), it’s still a very intentional factor of his life, something that takes a carefully prepared set of behavior and mental work. it’s still “mimicking.” again, the span of an entire human lifetime put into understanding people and society and he still doesn’t. there’s still much he does not understand, does not agree with, and even ridicules. he has integrated into the society, but he does not innately understand it. he only understands it through his uniquely analytical perspective, the perspective of an outsider trying to understand.

[roomselfcontain2]

Single room for rent near me visit website brand new virgin pop standard room self with stable power available now at adageorge by iwofe road in port Harcourt city rivers state Nigeria

[reasonsforhope]

Legit though, we should start turning ecosystem restoration and work to make our world more tolerant to the effects of climate change into annual holidays and festivals

Like how just about every culture used to have festivals to celebrate the beginning of the harvest or its end, or the beginning of planting, or how whole communities used to host barn raisings and quilting bees - everyone coming together at once to turn the work of months or years into the work of a few days

Humble suggestions for festival types:

Goat festival

Besides controlled burns (which you can't do if there's too much dead brush), the fastest, most effective, and most cost-efficient way to clear brush before fire season - esp really heavy dead brush - is to just. Put a bunch of goats on your land for a few days!

Remember that Shark Tank competitor who wanted to start a goat rental company, and everyone was like wtf? There was even a whole John Oliver bit making fun of the idea? Well THAT JUST PROVES THEY'RE FROM NICE WET PLACES, because goat rental companies are totally a thing, and they're great.

So like. Why don't we have a weekend where everyone with goats just takes those goats to the nearest land that needs a ton of clearing? Public officials could put up maps of where on public lands grazing is needed, and where it definitely shouldn't happen. Farmers and people/groups with a lot of acres that need clearing can post Goat Requests.

Little kids can make goat-themed crafts and give the goats lots of pets or treats at the end of the day for doing such a good job. Volunteers can help wrangle things so goats don't get where they're not supposed to (and everyone fences off land nowadays anyway, mostly). And the goats, of course, would be in fucking banquet paradise.

Planting Festival and Harvest Festival

Why mess with success??? Bring these back where they've disappeared!!! Time to swarm the community gardens and help everyone near you with a farm make sure that all of their seeds are sown and none of the food goes to waste in the fields, decaying and unpicked.

And then set up distribution parts of the festival so all the extra food gets where it needs to be! Boxes of free lemons in front of your house because you have 80 goddamned lemons are great, but you know what else would be great? An organized effort to take that shit to food pantries (which SUPER rarely get fresh produce, because they can't hold anything perishable for long at all) and community/farmer's markets

Rain Capture Festival

The "water year" - how we track annual rainfall and precipitation - is offset from the regular calendar year because, like, that's just when water cycles through the ecosystems (e.g. meltwater). At least in the US, the water year is October 1st through September 30th of the next year, because October 1st is around when all the snowmelt from last year is gone, and a new cycle is starting as rain begins to fall again in earnest.

So why don't we all have a big barn raising equivalent every September to build rain capture infrastructure?

Team up with some neighbors to turn one of those little grass strips on the sidewalk into a rain-garden with fall-planting plants. Go down to your local church and help them install some gutters and rain barrels. Help deculvert rivers so they run through the dirt again, and make sure all the storm drains in your neighborhood are nice and clear.

Even better, all of this - ESPECIALLY the rain gardens - will also help a ton with flood control!

I'm so serious about how cool this could be, yall.

And people who can't or don't want to do physical stuff for any of these festivals could volunteer to watch children or cook food for the festival or whatever else might need to be done!

Parties afterward to celebrate all the good work done! Community building and direct local improvements to help protect ourselves from climate change!

The possibilities are literally endless, so not to sound like an influencer or some shit, but please DO comment or reply or put it in the notes if you have thoughts, esp on other things we could hold festivals like this for.

Canning festivals. "Dig your elderly neighbors out of the snow" festivals. Endangered species nesting count festival. Plant fruit trees on public land and parks festival. All of the things that I don't know anywhere near enough to think of. Especially in more niche or extreme ecosystems, there are so many possibilities that could do a lot of good

[jamesleech]

Wobble Oil on wood panel 48 x 60in 2024

Working from a photo taken by my late father, I painted a moment from an epic banquet dinner we had together with his old friends, their wives, and their daughters. Through painting, through his eyes, I face grief and the memory of a difficult and regretful time. I spend time with him again in a sideways way.

The act of mining nostalgia and personal history is a destructive one. Missing pieces come into frustrating focus, inaccuracies congeal, and old feelings take new shapes. We can find illumination and healing through contemplation, but by re-experiencing the past, its original colour is altered forever.

- I’m proud to share this painting and a few others with the support of Gallery PFOAC at Art Toronto, in the Metro Toronto Convention Center October 25th to 27th. We’ll be at booth A38. See ya!

[juyeoz]

RED AND GOLD — LEE HEESEUNG

SYNOPSIS — decelis was holding their annual masquerade ball and you finally decided to attend. however, who would’ve known that struggling to find your friends would help you find gold?

PAIRING — rival!heeseung x fem!reader

CONTAINS — fluff and slight angst (ending wise), rivals to rivals ??, was supposed to be for halloween…!, kind of rushed as well (fighting writers block rn), and not proofread.

WORDCOUNT — 1379 words

October 31st was Halloween and the day your school hosted their annual masquerade ball at Ju’s Banquet Hall. 

To be honest, this year was your first time attending. You never had time for things like this in the past, but since it was your final year of school, you managed to find some (and with the help of your friends pushing). 

The music from outside the banquet was loud. There was no chance to miss it either. 

“Thank you,” you said with a smile while exiting your mother’s car. 

“Have fun! By the way, you look amazing.” She said as your smile grew bigger.

“Let me take a picture!” 

“Absolutely not—Stay in the car, where are you going?!” You panicked. Your mother was quite the embarrassment when it came to stuff like this.

“Oh, come on! It’s your first year. Let me mark the memory.” She frowned while holding the release button of her seatbelt.

“I’ll send you some, I promise.” You reassured her as she raised a brow.

“100%?”

“Yes, 100%.” 

She smiled at your words and waved goodbye as you took that as an opportunity to leave as well.

Your right hand held onto your belongings, including the dark red mask you were planning to wear while the other pinched at your dress. It was long. You couldn’t risk falling in front of so many people, especially not in your first year of attending.

As you walked up the steps, your phone began to ring. You couldn’t see the contact name but the red and green phone buttons were in your view.

Hopefully it was your friend Eunchae.

“Hello?” You said after swiping right.

“Hey, (Name)! Where are you? Are you here yet?” Eunchae said on the other line.

“Yeah, uh, I’m about to enter the hall.” You replied while squinting at the sign above. You could barely see it.

“Okay, we are at the drinks table. They have fruit punch!” She cheered. She loved fruit punch, it was her favourite drink.

You smiled at her childish tone and told her you were on your way. Once the call ended, you slipped on your mask and walked through the doors of the hall in search of the drinks table Eunchae boasted about.

There were too many people everywhere. You were cramped. It would’ve been better if she told you the colour dress she wore, but she didn’t.

Your brows furrowed as you took out your phone to call Eunchae once more. There was no way you could find her and the drinks table in such a big place.

You unlocked your phone and called her contact, then placed your phone against your ear as it dialed.

And dialed… Then beeped. 

There was no answer. 

Honestly, if you knew this would happen, you would have stayed home. You could’ve been studying during this hour. Studying hard enough to beat your so-called rival, Lee Heeseung, on the next Functions test.

“Great.” You mumbled followed by a sigh of disappointment. You began walking around, hoping she would appear somewhere and soon. Part of you was ready to call your mom back and ask her to drive you home. 

It hadn’t even been 5 minutes yet. 

All of a sudden an arm bumped yours, causing you to stumble due to your heels and land in the embrace of another being. 

A possible stranger and fellow schoolmate.

“Are you okay?” They asked. Their voice sounded quite alarmed. 

“I’m completely sorry, that was my fault.” You replied while regaining your composure.

“Nah, it’s fine. But are you okay? He kind of bumped into you harshly.” 

All you could see were his eyes and lips, and yet, you were able to tell how sincere and worried he sounded. It was almost as if he was the one who got hurt. 

It was funny.

He stared at you in confusion as you began to laugh. He would be lying if he said it didn’t sound pleasing.

“What’s funny?” He asked, clueless. 

“Nothing, nothing. I’m okay, don’t worry.” You replied once you calmed down, a smile still present on your face.

“So, are you here with anyone tonight?” You questioned in an attempt to change the topic.

“Kind of and kind of not?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m here with my friends, but I can’t find them. This place is too big.”

“No way, same! They said they were at the drink table as if I’d know where that was.” 

He laughed at your words. 

“Do you want to keep each other company then?” He asked and you nodded. He seemed nice and not creepy.

It was probably the best temporary choice you had.

You two began walking side by side through the crowds of people in an attempt to find a quieter and less crowded place. 

“What should we do?” You asked as he looked at you in disbelief. Due to the silence, you looked over at him only to be met with his shocked expression.

“What?” You asked again.

“Is this your first year here?” You nodded at his words, explaining how it was your first time as a senior all together.

Out of nowhere, he grabbed your wrist and guided you both out of the crowded hall. You had no clue where he was taking you. Maybe he wasn’t trustworthy after all.

Was this how you were going to die? 

All your thoughts clouded your mind, distracting you from the sudden change of scenery.

“Look,” he said and released your wrist in the process. 

You were brought back to reality as you looked around, noticing the many fairy lights and flower filled walkway. 

“Pretty, right?” 

“Very.” You said while walking ahead of him as he smiled.

“I’m guessing you’ve been here often.” You said and brushed your fingertips against the petals of the flowers.

“Not at all, it’s my first year too, but this is where my friends and I met up.” You paused at his words and turned around on your pivot foot.

“And you were shocked at me saying this was my first year? You have no room to talk.”

You narrowed your eyes as he chuckled, muttering playful apologies.

“At least I got to show you this place, right?” 

You remained silent. He wasn’t wrong. Without him, you wouldn’t have found out about this place anyways.

“Oh, by the way, I didn’t catch your name—”

“Can’t. Rules are rules.” He said, interrupting your incomplete sentence.

“Ah, right. I forgot.” You mumbled. That was a pretty stupid sentence anyway. What was the point of a masquerade ball if you were going to reveal each other’s identities?

“If anything, I’m sure we would run into each other tomorrow at school?” He questioned, part of him hoping you two would. You seemed sweet and were dressed beautifully. 

“Of course, I’ll remember you as…”

You analyzed his outfit; he was dressed in a white and gold tuxedo and wore a black masquerade mask which only left his eyes and lips uncovered. 

“As Gold? It’s pretty basic, but that’s the best I’ve got.” You said, quite embarrassed.

“It’s alright, I could remember you as Red as well.” He smiled. 

To you, he was something you never met before.

However, for him, he knew who you were. You were his rival and he was Lee Heeseung. 

To him this was funny, you two were arguing over your assignments at least 5 hours before tonight. 

Now, his heart fluttered at the sound of your voice, the sight of your smile, and your laughter. There had to be something in the air, but he couldn’t bring himself to get away from you. It was his first time seeing you dressed up so formally. It was different from the school uniforms and atmosphere. 

See, he knew if you were to find out about him being ‘Gold’ you would be quite disgusted. Or at least that was what he thought. So, to keep the night alive, he kept it a secret. 

Even the next day he didn’t mention anything. To you, he would always be the boy you wanted to win against, and unfortunately, he was okay with that.

Although Red and Gold went well together, that didn’t mean you two did as well.

© JUYEOZ

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @kxppachu

[tiaramania]

TIARA ALERT: Queen Mary of Denmark wore Princess Louise's Pearl Poiré Tiara for the banquet during the state visit from Iceland at Christiansborg Palace in Copenhagen, Denmark on 8 October 2024.

[conundrumoftime]

My Haladriel fics

I haven't grouped all these together before, so here's a collection of all the complete Haladriel fics I've written so far since October '22. Cannot believe it's been almost two years!

(Some of these fics also feature Celeborn/Galadriel, Celeborn/Sauron or all of them together, because I like a) Celeborn b) multishipping and c) mess. I'll make it clear here which stories those are, so if Celeborn is not your guy or if multishipping confuses or distresses you then that's! fine! just please don't read those ones and then be weird to me about it in the comments.)

Multi-chapter fics

Shadow-Bride (E, 265k words): This is my long long longfic, started in December of '22 and now complete after 43 chapters. Canon-divergence from the middle of s1.

Banquets have burned for you (M, 24k words): Written for eastwynds for the spring '23 Haladriel fic exchange, where the prompt was "one thing happens differently on Númenor, and everything changes." Went heavy on the Greek tragedy influence for this one because it felt fitting for Númenor.

A man is a god in ruins (E, 21k words): At the time this was the longest story I'd ever written and the first multi-chapter story I'd finished since the LiveJournal days. How things change! Canon-divergence from the very end of s1; what if Halbrand decided to leave Eregion before Galadriel got suspicious?

All the kinds of alive you can be (E, 13k words, also Celeborn/Galadriel, also Celeborn/Sauron/Galadriel): so loads of us have written "what if Sauron shapechanged into Celeborn to seduce Galadriel"; this is "what if Sauron shapechanged into Galadriel to seduce Celeborn, because he's furious with her and obsessed with her and sort of wants to be her all at the same time"?

So Wide a Sea (E, 6k words, also Galadriel/Celeborn): After Sauron's final defeat in the War of the Ring Galadriel remembers a long-ago day on Númenor.

One-shot fics

Five times Halbrand's secret got revealed (T, 6000 words): the first Haladriel fic I ever wrote, of five scenarios of Galadriel learning his name. 'Shadow-Bride' is a continuation of one of these five; 'A man is a god in ruins' is the '...and one time it didn't.'

Tar-Mairon of the Shire (G, 3000 words): entire fix-it fluff, probably more '&' than '/', Hobbits make everything better including Dark Lords.

Tempered (M, 3600 words): written for @thecoziestbean for the spring '24 Haladriel fic exchange.

And white winter, on its knees (M, 1800 words): written for the Haladriel Winter Solstice '23, a what-if Galadriel said yes to Sauron's offer story.

Weakened like Achilles, with you always at my heels (M, 4000 words): written for Haladriel Week '24. A little moment after the Tirharad battle and before the volcano.

I have loved flowers that fade (M, 1700 words): they deserved to have at least one nice time in Eregion before she found out who he was!

Weighed Against Our Future (T, 1800 words): A delirious (or is he?) Halbrand on the road to Eregion.

Shine (T, 3300 words) and its sequel Lady of the Seas (E, 3700 words): Halbrand makes Galadriel's armour on Númenor.

Silver Queen (M, 3600 words): my first 'what if Celebrían was Sauron's daughter?' story, sort of a Haladriel fic and sort of a fix-it for Celebrían.

Civil Twilight (M, 10k words, also Celeborn/Galadriel): for Haladriel Week '23. A 'what if Celebrían was Sauron's daughter?' and 'what if Galadriel finds her missing husband?' story combined.

The turn of the tide (T, 1700 words): For Haladriel Week '23. In the Fourth Age after travelling back to Valinor, Galadriel still feels called to the sea.

Though I sang in my chains like the sea (T, 3000 words): For Haladriel Week '23. They were on that ep2 raft for a while; so this is a gapfiller of them getting to know each other better. Or not.

Blood Sugar (M, 7000 words): the only time I've ever done a modern AU, and even then it doesn't really count because he's still literal Sauron in it. Anyway: Glasgow, professional disillusionment, and difficult relationships with your history.

Ficlets under 1000 words

You built a nest inside my soul, you rest your head on leaves of gold (M, 800 words); Numenor alleyway smut.

How shall summer's honey breath hold out (M, 600 words): and why shouldn't Galadriel get to command an army and have a nice time with the enemy general while heavily pregnant.

Gilded (G, 550 words): another 'what if she said yes on the raft' fic

Not for all my little words (T, 775 words) s1 ep8, Elrond-POV on Galadriel and her weird new friend in Eregion.

Miscellaneous fics:

Half-Maia Celebrían short fics: Suo Gân (G, 1000 words), Arda Sahta (G, 1100 words), As Little Might Be Thought (T, 2600 words). All these are Galadriel/Celeborn (and the last one is also Celebrían/Elrond) and Sauron isn't really in them, but they're all about the impact of that being his child.

To hold all the promise of blue-velvet dark (T, 1700 words) - another 'what if Sauron impersonates Galadriel?' fic, this time featuring baby half-Maia Amroth.

Silmarillion rather than TROP: As certain dark things are loved (M, 8000 words, also Galadriel/Celeborn, also Galadriel/Celeborn/Sauron), for @softlighter for the Sufficiently Advanced '24 exchange. Annatar in 2nd Age Ost-in-Edhil.

[charlotte-of-wales]

Queen Mary attends a State Banquet on the first day of the two day state visit by the Icelandic President to Denmark, at Christiansborg Palace in Copenhagen | October 8, 2024

[hanzajesthanza]

i think it would be really funny if regis had a kind of fucked-up haircut

“he could save everyone except himself” but like with regard to the barbery, and not the surgery. kind of like when chefs don’t cook very well for themselves. or when fashion designers wear sweatpants all day.

but moreover. i think the aesthetic effects of a bad haircut would help to dampen his natural lugosian allure and good looks. to reduce any potential suspicions

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

What’s your prediction for the second slice of the shit sandwich?

Something involving the Waleses or Edinburghs. I lean towards it being the Waleses, since the Edinburghs were the second slice last time (the 2023 shit sandwhich, which confirmed Archie and Lili were using Prince/Princess titles) but since they're keeping lower profiles, it may be the Edinburghs again.

I think it may be one of these:

A new royal patronage for Kate from The King, probably something sentimental to Charles or one that used to be Her Late Majesty's. I'm on the fence about it being cancer-related...I feel like it could go artsy.

A declaration from Charles about William and Kate having authority to issue royal warrants. The right for the Prince of Wales to issue royal warrants isn't automatic. He has to be given permission by the monarch. It's assumed that William and Kate will someday be granted this ability, but Charles hasn't announced it yet. I do feel like maybe Charles would grant Anne that authority too, in recognition of her work as The Princess Royal (and that would actually be pretty big news).

Announcement of a state visit to UK in November and at the banquet, Kate, Anne, and Sophie have Charles's family order. The BRF traditionally receives a state visit in October or November each year. Since Charles is traveling in October, if there's a state visit in the autumn, it will probably be November. (November state visits are typically announced towards the end of September.)

A state thing happening while Charles is down under that requires the Counsellors of State, which William and Edward would do together because it can't be avoided or delayed till Charles returns. (If Counsellors of State are called while the monarch is away, they need two Counsellors to attend the matter.)

And it's very tinhatty (like 3%), but something involving a Sussex loss - maybe their titles get taken, maybe something with the bullying/staff reports, the lawsuits collapse, or some other kind of exposure that cancels them in a way we haven't seen yet. I don't usually give tarot and astrology a lot of weight, but when different readers in different circles on different platforms are seeing the same thing, I do consider that something to pay attention and right now, a lot of people are saying October/November looks very problematic for the Sussexes.

[runnning-outof-time]

More Than Charm | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - part two of Actions Speak Louder … inspired by a comment from @holacia3

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy’s got a lot of making up to do, both to (Y/N) and her parents. To anyone else, this would be a challenging feat….but Tommy Shelby isn’t anyone else.

Warnings: drinking, language

Word Count: 2493

A/N: I’m sorry it took so long for this second part to be written. If you’re still interested enough to see what happens next, thanks so much for sticking around. I’m not 100% sure it came out how I wanted it to, but I’m happy with it nonetheless. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: oh and what a better time to post this than on the day they got married? - thank you to @eatdirt420 for suggesting I pick a day in between the two seasons that won…I hope this day is considered to be that!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

- December 12th, 1920 -

If you told (Y/N) that this day would finally come around, she probably would have laughed in your face.

Tommy proposed to her in October of 1913. They were planning to have their wedding in August of the next year. But no one had anticipated the fact that Tommy and his brothers would have been shipped out to fight a war in France just one month prior.

The wedding had to be postponed due to the conflict, and it stayed postponed for seven long years - both due to the war continuing longer than anyone could have imagined, and also because of the ‘mess’ that Tommy and the family business got themselves into just shortly after they returned from the Western Front in 1919.

(Y/N) thought it’d be better to wait, to allow their wedding to have the spotlight that she felt it deserved. But she’d by lying if she said that the prospect of her walking down the aisle got bleaker with every year that passed.

But today it finally happened. She finally walked down the aisle, took her fiancé’s hands, and vowed herself to him for the rest of her life. He, in return, vowed the same for her, and she and Tommy then walked back down the aisle as husband and wife.

Now it was time for the reception.

Tommy and (Y/N) decided to take a moment to themselves before going out and greeting all of the people who joined them on their special day.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her as he shut the door behind them, making sure they were alone in one of the rooms just of off the large banquet hall. He noticed that something had been eating at his wife since the ceremony was finished.

“Nothing,” she quickly responded, noticing instantly after she’d answered him that her haste had given her true feelings away.

“You’re picking at your nails, love,” he nodded at her hands, catching her in the act, “something’s bothering you. What is it?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. “My parents, Tommy,” she answered, her response only scratching the surface of what she wanted to say.

“What about ‘em?” he asked with furrowed brows.

“I’m worried what they’re thinking…how they’re taking this,” she divulged.

“Fuck what they’re thinking,” he was quick to brush it off, and he promptly earned a glare from his wife in response.

“Seriously? You can’t just say that,” she said, looking at him with wide eyes. Tommy stayed silent. (Y/N) turned from him with a huff, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes in hopes to alleviate some of the stress and worry she was feeling. “You can be so crass sometimes, Thomas,” she sighed, shaking her head as she looked at the ground.

“I’ve got this covered, love,” he responded, moving to stand behind her.

“I’ve heard that before,” she remarked, snorting after she spoke.

“I’ve got it covered,” he assured her, wrapping his arms around her midriff so he could pull her flush against him.

“Please don’t mess this up,” she whispered as she placed her hands atop his forearms.

“I won’t,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips to her neck.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but lean into his touch, her eyes slowly closing as she got lost in the feeling of his lips pressed to her skin. “We’ve gotta get out there, Tommy,” she finally spoke after a few moments had passed.

“They’ll be fine for a few more minutes,” he disregarded her statement, continuing his ministrations.

“Tommy,” the repeating of his name came as a breath this time.

“Just wanna spend some time with me wife,” he mumbled before spinning her around so that he could kiss her lips.

The reception was in full swing now. Tommy and (Y/N) had been playing host, going around to all of the guests and thanking them for being part of their big day. (Y/N) was so happy to see Tommy back to acting like his old self. Usually his smiles and lighthearted behavior were reserved for her eyes only but today, while in front of family and friends, his guard had been completely lowered.

Her parents hadn’t yet made a scene, which (Y/N) was thankful for because they very well could have if they wanted to. They stood off to the side and watched with smiles as their daughter celebrated her wedding day. (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or worried that Tommy hadn’t gone over to them yet.

“Don’t look now, (Y/N),” (Y/N)’s sister, Josephine, started while looking over the younger woman’s shoulder, “but Tommy’s on his way over to mum.”

(Y/N) looked as soon as her sister finished speaking. Sure enough, Tommy was now talking to her mother. She held her breath as she watched the two conversate.

“What is he going to do?” she wondered aloud, frozen as she silently hoped that this wouldn’t be the time where the train got derailed.

The two talked for a moment longer before Tommy offered his hand to her. Time seemed to go slow as (Y/N) watched a smile form on her mother’s face before she accepted Tommy’s hand and allowed him to lead her to to the dance floor.

“He got her to dance,” Josephine pointed out, grabbing hold of her sister’s arm as a look of shock formed on her face, “no one gets mum to dance.”

“And it looks like she’s enjoying it,” (Y/N) remarked, feeling an immense relief wash over her as she caught the wide smile that was present on her mother’s face.

“Leave it up to Tommy Shelby, right?” Josephine grinned as she looked over at her sister.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but blush. She tried to play it off, but the fact that Josie’s grin grew made it obvious that she had caught her initial reaction. “Yeah,” she conceded with a slight nod before adding, “but mum’s the easier of the two to convince. I’m interested to see what he’s got planned for dad.”

The evening had gone as swimmingly as it could have. There were many laughs and smiles, and the love could practically be felt in the room.

The dance seemed to do the trick: (Y/N)’s mother had decided to put her feelings of hesitance in the past and accepted Tommy as her son-in-law. Her only qualm now was that the two hadn’t gotten married sooner.

Much like (Y/N) predicted though, her father was going to be a harder person to sway. He stayed at the table for most of the evening, watching the event happen around him. She tried to get him involved a few times, but to no avail. The only time he stepped away from his seat was for the father-daughter dance.

“Is your father still here?” Tommy asked (Y/N) as the evening was drawing to a close.

“Let me see…” she trailed off, peering around his shoulder to find the table her parents had been sitting at, “he is,” she affirmed when she found him in the same seat he’d been occupying all evening. “Why do you ask?” she couldn’t help but question the reasoning behind his concern.

“I’ve not gotten to talk to him yet,” he answered.

“He’s not going to be as easy to sway as my mother was,” (Y/N) warned.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try, eh?” he cracked a grin. (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile at his determination.

“Please don’t make things worse,” she said before he could leave her side.

“I won’t,” he assured her, leaning in and pressing his lips to her forehead before he turned and walked away from her.

“(Y/N)!” she then heard from behind her. She turned to find Ada approaching her with Freddie in tow. There went the plan of watching Tommy try to smooth-talk her father. “I’ve been looking for you,” the Shelby woman stated as she pulled her new sister-in-law into a hug.

“You’ve found me,” (Y/N) smiled once the two ladies pulled away. She made sure to also acknowledge Freddie, who sent a smile back.

“I wanted to let you know that we’re leaving. It’s getting late and we don’t want to keep Karl’s sitter for too long,” Ada informed her.

“Oh that’s fine. Thank you both for coming,” (Y/N) smiled.

“It was absolutely lovely! We’re thrilled to have you as part of the family now,” Ada said with a smile before asking, “would you happen to know where my brother has run off to?”

“He trying to have a word with my father,” (Y/N) answered, watching as Ada’s eyes widened slightly.

“Best of luck with that,” she stated, “but knowing Tommy, he’ll be able to settle the score.”

“I can hope,” (Y/N) smiled softly, hoping it hid her true emotions. “Thanks again for coming tonight.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Ada smiled before pulling the other woman into one last hug.

By the time the Thornes had left her side, (Y/N) turned again to find Tommy sitting at the same table as her father. They were talking, and by the looks of it, her father seemed to actually be interested in the conversation. (Y/N) felt a smile creep onto her lips as they both lifted their glasses in unison for a drink.

“Whiskey…it sure does help men forget their differences,” the voice of her mother came from beside her, making (Y/N) jump at the sudden company.

“Mum,” she couldn’t help but gasp, her reaction making the other woman laugh. She shook her head and let out a sigh, her smile returning as her mother pulled her into her side. “Tommy really brought whiskey over for him?” she asked.

“He did,” her mum answered with a nod, “was really polite in asking if he could talk with him privately.”

“I can only imagine what they’re talking about,” (Y/N) stated, silently hoping that whatever it was wouldn’t ruin their chances at married life before it even began.

“Oh horses and betting, I’m sure,” her mother threw out a few ideas. “So long as he doesn’t coax him down to Watery Lane, we’ll be grand,” she then added in a nonchalant manner.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as they found her mother’s. She’d never explicitly told her about the business that Tommy and his family ran. Right now she felt like a child who’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. That was why the smile that formed on her mother’s face made confusion wash over her. Why is she smiling? she couldn’t help but think to herself.

“The Shelby name is spoken all around Small Heath, darling. It’s hard not to know about the business they’re involved in,” her mother explained her reaction, making her daughter immediately go into panic mode.

“You’re not upset about that, are you?” (Y/N) asked in a weary tone.

“I’m not,” the older woman started, shaking her head softly, “you’ve been with him for a long time now, and he’s not once shown that he wants to be anywhere other than by your side. He’s a good man to you, (Y/N), anyone can see that. I’m happy that he’s the one you married because I know that you’ll be safe with him.”

“I’m so happy to hear that you think that, mum,” (Y/N) said with a wide smile. She couldn’t help but wrap her arms around the older woman and hug her tightly. All of the worries she was harboring had now vanished.

“You’re going to have a lovely life with him,” her mother whispered as she held her daughter tighter.

“I’m not sure what you did, but you made them love you, Tommy,” (Y/N) said as she worked on making sure all of her jewelry was removed.

“You should have trusted me,” he responded, standing from the bed after he’d taken his shoes off. He then moved over to where she was standing so that he could wrap his arms around her waist from behind.

“I should have,” (Y/N) mumbled as she tried to fight the smile that was threatening to form on her face.

“What was that?” Tommy asked as he lifted his chin from her shoulder so that he could look her in the eyes through the mirror. His eyes were wide now and there was a grin teetering on his lips also. He definitely caught what she said…he just wanted to hear it again.

“Oh nothing…” (Y/N) trailed off, playing coy as she bit on her bottom lip.

“Did you just say that I was right?” he tried to coax the answer out of her.

“I said nothing,” (Y/N) held steadfast, although her grin was peeking through despite her attempts to keep it hidden.

“Fine…I’ll just have to use another means of getting it out of you,” Tommy decided, not giving her a moment to process what he said before he was dragging her backwards and - gently - pushing her onto the bed. “What was it you said, love?” he questioned between the kisses he was peppering all over her face, his hands finding the sensitive spots on her sides.

“Tommy!” she shrieked, trying so hard to catch her breath through her giggles. Despite her attempts to either stop his hands or take hold of his face, Tommy continued his barrage of kisses and tickles. “I should have trusted you!”

“What was that?” he stopped all at once, holding himself above her as their eyes met.

“I should have trusted you,” (Y/N) repeated herself once she caught her breath. She took hold of his cheeks with both of her hands and searched his eyes for a moment before adding, “I must’ve forgotten how much of a charmer you are.” She couldn’t help but smile as she watched a grin crack through his composure. If only she could have photographed this moment or found a way to freeze time.

“I managed to keep you for all these years somehow, didn’t I?” he countered, his grin growing, “that wasn’t because of luck alone.”

“I think it was more than your charm that made me stay, Tommy,” she admitted, her smile widening.

“Oh yeah?” his question sounded like he was challenging her.

“Yeah,” her quick response told him what she was up for the challenge.

“Wanna tell me all of those other reasons?” he asked then, one of his eyebrows raising as he spoke.

“Gladly,” (Y/N)’s smile grew more, if that was even possible. Her eyes then flitted down to his lips before returning to his again. “I think I’ll start with your kisses,” she stated, leaving him with no time to respond before she pulled his lips down to match hers in a passionate kiss.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[twister-sister]

With October coming around the corner, is Halloween celebrated in JK au? If so, who gets the most into it? I see JK wearing the best costume of Jack Skellington~ P.S. Love your art and aus! hope you have a great day/night wherever you live at!

"If I am Jack, will you be my Sally ?" - JK

Yes!, Halloween is celebrated through the entire month of October each sector hosts an array of festivities Week 1 - Home, sector, business decorating, and setting up for the month.

Week 2 - Spooky Halloween-themed music festival and carnival, singers from all around including other dimensions perform 💎 and ❤️ territory

Week 3 - Terrifying haunted rides, houses, walk-throughs, and horror movies/slasher films projected in a stadium, all-night swimming, and bonfire by Songbird Lake ♣️ and ♠️ territory

Week 4 - Quiet hay rides through the autumn landscape, animated and not-so-scary films, such as Scary Godmother projected on the side of Clover castle, campfire with spooky stories and s'mores 🍀 territory

Week 5 - A week-long banquet in the center of Jester Square all are welcome to attend and camp in the fairground, on the day of Halloween there is trick-or-treating and a costume ball at Jk's Manor, his children are required to participate in, much to Hearts dismay 🎭👑 territory

Awww thank you so much!! >//w//<!! I'm so glad you enjoy them and my art!! <3 <3!!

[the-jewel-catalogue]

The Delhi Durbar Tiara

This tiara was made for Queen Mary to wear to the Delhi Durbar on 12 December 1911, a ceremonial gathering which marked King George V’s succession as King Emperor of India.  The tiara was originally surmounted by 10 large emeralds to match the suite of diamond and emerald jewellery which Queen Mary had made to wear at the Delhi Dubar.

In later years the 10 emeralds were removed, and Queen Mary continued alterations of the tiara, each time commissioning Garrard to allow the tiara to have jewel swapping capabilities.

The tiara was even sometimes worn with the Cullinan III and IV diamonds – 94 carats and 63 carats respectively.

The Delhi Durbar tiara was given on permanent loan to Queen Elizabeth, later the Queen Mother, who wore it on the family’s tour of South Africa in 1947.

Upon her passing, the tiara was inherited by Queen Elizabeth II and today is one of the largest tiaras in the royal collection.

In 2005, the tiara was loaned to her daughter-in-law the Duchess of Cornwall, who wore it in October of that year at her first official State Banquet at Buckingham Palace as a member of the Royal Family.

[tiaramania]

TIARA ALERT: Princess Benedikte of Sayn-Wittgenstein-Berleburg wore the SWB Fringe Tiara for the banquet during the state visit from Iceland at Christiansborg Palace in Copenhagen, Denmark on 8 October 2024.

[adore-laur]

DAD HARRY: PART THREE

— part one | part two

October—Flashback

The leaves on southern California’s oak and cottonwood trees are changing colors at last. Various shades of green bleed into marigold and maroon to commence the beginning of autumn. The weather is pleasant when it nears the end of the year, with temperatures never dipping below seventy degrees. Brisk winds blow by the Pacific Ocean, and migrating clusters of monarch butterflies flutter around orange milkweed with their stained-glass wings, looking similar to the plants they feed from.

Driving alongside the premature sunset, you press your foot on the brake pad and pull into the crowded restaurant parking lot. Harry has been bartending for a wedding's cocktail hour, which he seldom does under his title of head chef. Before he left, he mentioned that he wanted to talk to you about something important after his shift, so he reserved a table in the dining area where both of you could discuss it over dinner. Luckily, he doesn't have to work his way into the early morning since someone will replace him once the reception officially starts.

Today is Harry's last shift before he'll be home for an extended period of time. He managed to save all of his annual vacation days and is free from work for the last month of your pregnancy, as well as being allowed twelve weeks of paternity leave once the baby is born.

It's difficult to imagine how much convincing it took and the scheduling difficulties Harry had to face to get everything sorted. You're worried that the restaurant will crumble without his supervision, but you shouldn't judge his expertise on the matter. He knows what he's doing.

You stroll through the front doors while smoothing the chiffon fabric of your dress over your baby bump. Frequently, you’ve been wearing Harry's shirts ever since your bump has gotten too large to wear your own, but you wanted to look nice tonight. It’s been grueling trying to accept your changing body, which is why you strive to do little things to take care of your mental health. Even though you've been more concerned about your physical health as of lately, if something as simple as putting on a pretty dress can boost your confidence, you'll take advantage of the opportunity.

Carefully weaving through round, decorated tables, you peer at the bar area operating against the farthest wall. Harry's back is turned to you, broad and familiar, as he washes cocktail glasses. His defined muscles shift under the tight, black button-up he wears, and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the array of tattoos on his forearms. He's also sporting fitted slacks with matching suspenders attached to them. He's been growing out his hair during the last couple of months, with curls now flourishing past his ears. He always keeps them pushed back with a bandana or headband so that they don't fall in his eyes while he works.

You don't want to be a nuisance and steal a seat from any guests, so you stand off to the side and wait for Harry to finish his cleaning duties. His bulky rings clink against champagne and wine glasses as he dries them with a rag and sets them under the counter. You can hear him faintly whistling along to the jazz music coming from the connected banquet hall.

Once Harry finishes wiping his station clean, he sneakily takes out his phone and starts typing—you assume he's texting you to let you know he's done. He then washes his hands as another bartender walks behind the counter to clock in. They must be the one replacing him. You're not too knowledgeable about the rotation of bartenders since Harry is almost always in the back running the kitchen. It’s intriguing to see him adjust his skill set in a different environment.

He gives the employee a friendly squeeze on their shoulder before clocking out and heading in your direction. He nearly brushes past you while taking his phone out again, completely oblivious to your presence, and you laugh before stopping him with a hand on his chest. It makes him stumble back with a confused frown, but he quickly smiles in surprise when he recognizes you.

"How'd you get in?" he asks breathlessly, kissing your cheek.

"I told the security guards at the gate that I’m picking up my husband. If they said no, I was going to tell them my water broke."

He smirks proudly. "Clever. How are you feeling? Baby's good?" He holds your upper arms, and his eyes scan your body as if you've changed drastically since you saw him only four hours ago.

"All good. Just a sore back like usual." You toy with one of his suspender straps. "What about you? It's your last shift for a while."

Exhaling happily, Harry clasps your hand in his and says, "I feel fantastic. Let's go eat, yeah? I'm starving."

He guides you through an open doorway leading to the restaurant's dining area, where your reserved table is. In the back of the room, you spot a candlelit booth with plates, silverware, and two glasses filled with ice water. The water doesn't go unnoticed, considering Harry set a goal for himself to stop drinking alcohol along with you.

On the windowsill, a stout vase with beautiful red roses catches your eye as you sit down. Harry slides into the seat across from you. Only a few other booths are occupied—otherwise, the room is serenely quiet, with the occasional clink of metal and a sprinkle of chatter.

"You look angelic, by the way," Harry says before taking a sip of his water.

"Thank you," you whisper, nudging his foot with yours under the table. "I like your suspenders. They remind me of when you used to be a rookie assistant chef that I'd visit. You wore them under your chef coat with a fancy little neckerchief. I thought you looked so adorable."

"Now I'm old and weathered," he replies wryly.

"Well, you're turning thirty soon. And you'll be a dad in a month. Isn't that when someone officially becomes a DILF?" You're not sure why you casually mentioned the racy acronym over a romantic dinner, but it's too late to retreat now.

Harry's eyes gleam, and he fails miserably at hiding a smile under his scrunched nose. "Pardon? What are you trying to insinuate, darling?"

"Nothing! Never mind,” you say, embarrassed that you ever spoke. "I was only trying to bring up a nice memory. Reminiscing, if you will. Forget I said anything."

"I'm definitely not forgetting that. That ugly neckerchief, however..." He laughs at himself. "God, it feels like forever ago. Time flies."

"I thought it was kind of attractive," you mumble around the rim of your glass.

He raises his eyebrows as a warning to not start something you don't want to finish, then clears his throat and rests his forearms on the table. "Speaking of work, that's what I wanted to talk to you about tonight. I want you to keep an open mind, okay?"

Your lips downturn in curiosity. Just as you're about to reply, a waiter arrives at the table with a tray of steaming dishes and places them in the center. You texted Harry what you wanted from the menu after he left this morning, and since he's the boss, everything is free, cooked to perfection, and served promptly.

"Thank you," Harry says before focusing on you again. The waiter leaves, and you begin picking at your food to distract yourself from your increasing heart rate.

"Um, did you say work? Did you get a promotion? Is that even a possibility for a head chef?"

You can physically see the color drain from his face. "So," he says nervously, ignoring your questions, "the baby's coming soon, yes? Obviously."

"Right," you reply with suspicion.

Shifting in his seat, he sets his fork down and runs a hand through his tousled hair. "Listen, the restaurant during autumn and winter isn't as busy as the summertime. You know that. And because of that, I want to be home with you and the baby as much as possible. And I will with paternity leave, but once I go back to work, my hours will pick up again, and it'll be—"

"Harry, just tell me," you interrupt gently. He has a bad habit of running circles around topics.

He blows out a long breath. "I'm demoting myself. It's in the works that I'll be the sous chef when I return, so that means fewer hours and more time at home."

You're glad you don't take a sip of water yet because you nearly choke. Demotion? He’s never mentioned that before.

"Can I ask why in the world you would do that?" you ask. You don't mean to sound snippy, but pregnancy hormones, mixed with Harry's revelation, cause a pit of unwarranted annoyance to simmer in your gut.

"Love, let me explain." He reaches his hand across the table and squeezes yours. "This is my choice. It's final, all right? I'm not going to work ten hours a day, six days a week, while you're at home with our baby. That's ridiculous."

"But what about—"

"Stop while you're ahead, because you're going to overthink it," he says calmly. "If you're worried about money, don't be. It's only a slight decrease in my wage. Everything will be fine."

Your annoyance wins as you slide your free hand down your face. "You realize that we'll need more money when the baby comes. It's common sense. Why would you think cutting your hours is a smart idea?"

Harry scoffs like what you're saying is illogical. He leans in closer so that the impending argument doesn't disrupt anyone's dinner, his voice hushed yet stern when he replies, "Would you rather have me come home every day absolutely knackered and then spend a maximum of four hours with our child before I have to get up to do it all over again? Hmm?"

You shake your head in irritation and remove your hand from his. "It's called adapting. It may be tough at first, but it becomes second nature. We just have to wait until the baby gets here to figure out a schedule that works."

Harry falls back against the booth. He throws his hands up in frustration, and they slap against his thighs before he says, "Do you realize how stupid you sound right now? You're talking about money and scheduling like we're—"

"I'm leaving." When you stand, Harry's mouth instantly clamps shut. You don't care that you barely ate your food—you can't listen to him anymore. You're awfully close to lashing out.

Heading the way you came from, you hear Harry's footsteps scuffing the floor behind you. Once you're in the parking lot, you groan when you remember that he has to ride home with you since you dropped him off earlier. While you struggle to unlock the car, you see Harry in your peripheral, striding to stop you from going any further.

"I didn't mean it. I'm sorry." His shoulders sulk, and he looks genuinely distraught. "Can we please talk this through when we get home?"

Your eyes dance over his defeated expression. You can’t say no since you live together, plus you promised years ago never to go to bed angry at each other. So, you nod your head, and he shoots you a timorous smile before withdrawing to the passenger side.

As you drive, you give Harry the harrowing silent treatment. He deserves it, considering he's looking out the window with his arms crossed and pouting like a child. The only sound in the confined space is the air conditioner running and cars whooshing past on the freeway. Your stomach grumbles, and you feel terrible about leaving two five-star plates of food untouched at the restaurant.

After several minutes of dreadful silence, Harry finally breaks the tension when you park in the garage. He grabs a white envelope tucked in the center console and asks, "What's this?"

Oh. You forgot about that.

"Nothing," you mutter, unbuckling your seatbelt.

Harry rolls his eyes and flings the envelope onto the dashboard, then reaches over to take the key out of the ignition. Seconds pass before you hear him open the front door and then shut it harder than necessary.

You swallow down vexation. There have been tiny arguments more often since you got pregnant, and you blame your hormones every time for getting irritated so easily. Usually, Harry isn't the sole reason for those heightened emotions, but there are situations when he can be so stubborn that you just want to shake him out of it.

Eventually, you get out of the car with the envelope in hand and head down to the beach for some time alone. It'll be nice to sit by the water and cool down, figuratively and literally. You have an inclination that if you try to hash it out with Harry right now, it will only result in more regretful words said.

You reach the private stretch of sand that’s part of your beachfront property, holding your bump protectively as you descend the wooden steps. It's chilly by the oceanside this time of year, so you grab a towel that was left on the railing from previous evenings and drape it over your shoulders.

As the October sunset tinges the sky with orange and pink streaks, you sit down and reflect on the unfortunate escalation of your conversation with Harry. You love him dearly and could never feel an ounce of hatred toward him. He has never given you a reason to doubt anything, but to put his career on the back burner without mentioning it to you is hurtful. You almost feel guilty knowing he made the choice because of you and the baby. Sometimes, you shy away from being the main priority because you don't want to feel like a burden. In retrospect, it's incredibly thoughtful that he wants to work less to spend quality time with the baby when they arrive. On the other hand, you can't help but worry that you won't be financially secure because of it.

"Hungry?"

Your head shifts to find Harry walking toward you with a spoon and a strange-looking fruit in his hand. It's impossible not to smile when you note the outfit he changed into—pale yellow trousers and an argyle knit sweater. All of his rings are off except for his gold wedding band. His feet are bare.

He's the love of your life and has nothing but pure intentions, so how could you not trust his decision?

"What is that?" you ask, pointing to the half-cut fruit as Harry gets comfortable beside you.

"A papaya," he replies with a shrug. "A pregnancy blog said that at thirty-two weeks, a baby is as big as one of these bad boys. So, naturally, I bought one."

You have to turn your face so he doesn't see your irrepressible smile. You're not giving him the benefit of seeing you crack from his endearing ways just yet. "You're an unusual man, Harry Styles. Do you plan on buying more fruit for the last four weeks?"

"I already put pineapple on the grocery list," he says unconcernedly as he scoops out a chunk from the fleshy fruit. "Anyway, I didn't come out here to discuss fruit." His tongue sticks out when he takes a bite, the spoon leaving his mouth with a pop before he points it at you. "Still mad at me?"

You sigh, knowing it's useless to continue acting like he's in the wrong. "I can't stay mad at you. And I don't know why I got so worked up. I was just being overdramatic."

Harry hums thoughtfully as he swallows another bite. "Expressing how you feel isn't overdramatic. Don't apologize for having those feelings, especially toward me. Yell at me if I'm being a dick; kiss me if I'm being a dreamboat. It’s simple, baby." He finishes his little speech by shoving another spoonful of papaya into his mouth, chewing introspectively while staring at the waves.

"Was it Socrates who said that?"

He plucks your bottom lip with the spoon and murmurs, "You're feisty today."

"Back to the topic," you say before he can rile you up. "Money shouldn't have been what my mind first went to. It's still a concern, but ultimately, making time for our family is the most important thing. I apologize for freaking out."

"You're forgiven." Harry scoots closer and holds a spoonful to your mouth. You accept the sweet flavor as he continues, "And I'm so sorry for saying you sounded stupid. Please know that that’s the furthest thing from the truth."

"We all say things we don't mean sometimes," you reply. “There's no use in acting like I haven't done the same thing in the past.”

Harry slings his arm around your shoulders, bringing you in for a warm side hug. "What you said is true, by the way. We have time to figure things out and adapt. Let's enjoy this last month we have to ourselves.”

You nod in agreement. "I also want to thank you for being so thoughtful and putting our family first. I trust you with this new life chapter. I don't doubt you at all."

"Don't worry about it," he says, kissing your temple. "I'm proud of you for dealing with every mental and physical change these past eight months. And I will always be here for you through the good and bad moments, all right? In sickness, in health, and everything in between.”

You smile fondly and take out the white envelope that’s been hiding under your leg. "Are you in the mood for a good moment with me?" Harry looks confused but nods anyway. "When you saw this in the car, it's not nothing like I said it was. It's from my prenatal appointment I went to a few days ago. I know we decided to find out the gender a month before my due date, so I had the doctor write the answer down.” You inhale an anxious breath. “I haven't looked at it yet."

Harry's eyes widen, and his mouth parts as he sets the papaya down. "I am not prepared for this. Wait, hold on. Let me breathe for a second." His head tilts up toward the sky as he takes dramatic, calming breaths.

You laugh and place the envelope on his thigh. "Do the honors, Styles. Let's see if your prediction is right."

He picks it up and carefully opens the seal. Unfolding the paper filled with your clinical notes, he quickly skims the tiny lettering to look for the answer he's been desperately waiting for.

"Holy shit," he says, his voice cracking as his hand covers his mouth.

"I'm guessing you're right," you say shakily, your eyes watering.

"Girl… we’re having a girl.”He wipes away his tears, smiling widely. "Why am I crying? I was confident it was a girl."

"Because it makes things more real," you say, leaning over to kiss his damp, rosy cheeks. "Now we know for sure."

"Come here, honey. Let me take a look at her."

You sit on your knees between Harry’s spread legs. He sets the envelope down and lifts your dress, revealing your bump that puts quite some distance between you and him. His hands splay across the taut skin as he leans down to kiss right above your belly button. He gazes up at you under his wet lashes and smiles against your stomach, his dimples carving pure happiness into his cheeks.

"I love you," he whispers with a sniffle. "I love both of you so much. With my entire soul."

In that moment, everything falls into place.

——

July—Present Day

Everything is falling apart.

Well, not really, but it sure feels that way when you bend over the toilet at seven in the morning and empty your queasy stomach once again.

It's the first Sunday in July, marking the tenth week of your second pregnancy. When you woke up with a wave of morning sickness a couple of hours ago, you noticed something peculiar. As you were rubbing circles on your abdomen to ease the nausea, it appeared that your stomach had seemingly popped overnight. The curve was more prominent and firm—a small bump you must have mistaken for bloating. It’s pretty much nonexistent in any loose garment, but anything tight will hug it nicely and be a constant reminder of baby number two growing in there.

Dizzily standing, you move toward the sink to brush your teeth for the umpteenth time, then gurgle some spearmint mouthwash to diminish the rancid taste in your mouth. Pots and pans clang downstairs as you wipe your lips, and the occasional giggle from your daughter mixes with Harry's theatrical voice, which he puts on whenever she watches him cook.

The smell of sizzling bacon doesn't help the swirling feeling in your stomach as you head downstairs to the kitchen. Their lighthearted commotion grows louder, and you stop in the doorway to soak in your favorite part of Sunday mornings. Harry is in front of the island, and your daughter stands on her tiptoes on a step stool next to him, the two of them watching pancakes turn golden brown on the griddle. He's in full Dad Mode with tired eyes and an outfit that screams: I have a toddler and pregnant wife at home. In other words, a black button-up with pink flamingos on it and grey pleated trousers. They don't match whatsoever, but you know he doesn't care. Clothing isn’t his prime concern—family is.

He voyages around the kitchen, pouring orange juice, dropping chocolate chips into the batter, and ensuring your daughter's little hands don't touch anything hazardous. Your hand subconsciously drifts to your bump as you think about how you'll get to see him interact with a newborn again—cuddling them, rocking them to sleep, and pretending to eat their chubby hands and feet. He still does all those things with your daughter, and it breaks your heart knowing she'll grow out of it one day.

"Good morning," Harry says with his back turned, halting your daydreaming. How does he always sense your presence?

When you don't say anything, he turns to glance at you while sliding a heart-shaped pancake onto a plate. Your smile stretches wider as you curl your pointer finger to beckon him closer. He gives you a confused look before unplugging the griddle and instructing your daughter not to touch anything on the counter. She'll be too distracted by the cartoon playing on the television to even notice that the both of you will be gone for a moment.

"What's up, baby?" Sauntering toward you, Harry sticks his thumb in his mouth to lick some excess pancake batter off.

"I have a surprise for you," you whisper, accepting his slow, relaxed kiss.

"Yeah? S'it my half-birthday or something?" he asks, his voice still gravelly and slurred from sleep.

"No, this isn't about you," you tease with a pinch to his hip. "Come with me."

You grab his hand and lead him to the bathroom just down the hall. Flicking the light switch on, you stand in front of the mirror and say, "I'm ten weeks along. I woke up with a little morning sickness, and look!" You lift your shirt and turn to the side to show him a better angle of your stomach. "It was just pudge before, but it's an actual bump now."

Behind you, Harry rubs his warm hands over the swell and marvels at it. "Well, I’ll be damned. You... fuck, this happened overnight. I was spooning you this morning! How did I not notice?"

"I don't know. I didn't notice either, and it's my own body." You shake your head disbelievingly and place your hands over his. "I read that a woman's second pregnancy will have them showing earlier. I guess that's why I popped so soon. Last time, I didn't show until fourteen weeks or something like that."

He hums lowly, pulling you further back against his chest. "I've missed seeing you like this. It makes you glow more than usual." His mouth is by your ear when he murmurs, "Makes me hard."

"You're so naughty in the mornings," you say, removing yourself from his grasp and pulling down your shirt. "C'mon, let's eat breakfast."

Harry whines in protest, gently grabbing your face and turning it toward him so he can nip your nose and then lock your lips together. After your stolen moment alone, the both of you head back to the kitchen to enjoy another blissful Sunday morning.

——

Takeout pizza is on the menu tonight. The Volvo’s trunk is open, with blankets and pillows strewn about to create a fort-like space for the three of you to sit in. Harry drove the vehicle down to the beach so you all could watch the sunset and feel the ocean breeze.

You get comfortable in the trunk and set paper plates and napkins down. Harry and your daughter are in the nearby beach grass, picking wildflowers that blossom there. They wander, her tiny hand gripping stems while her other holds Harry’s. Her precious strawberry-patterned dress flows in the wind.

Moments later, they come strolling toward the car with content smiles. Your daughter crawls into the trunk with your help and hands you a makeshift bouquet of yellow and purple wildflowers.

"Thank you, sweetheart," you say, kissing her windswept hair.

Harry places his hands on either side of your thighs and leans in for some of your affection. You peck his lips—they're pink from the fruit punch he made earlier. Before he retreats, he glances at your baby bump and then looks at you with a crooked smile, his thumb delicately stroking the curve.

"Kumquat," he says, clicking his tongue.

You laugh, albeit not understanding. "Come again?"

"A baby at ten weeks is the size of a kumquat," he explains, like it's a well-known fact.

"Interesting," you say. "Well, the kumquat is hungry, so get up here and cut the pizza."

Your daughter is oblivious to the conversation as Harry scoots next to you and begins rolling the pizza cutter. His forearm muscles flex, the veins popping out. "Small bites, little lady," he tells her as he puts a slice on her plate.

Reaching behind you, you grab the bottle of sparkly pink nail polish you brought out. "She wants you to paint her nails."

Harry nods and pats his lap. She sits between his legs and waits patiently. While taking the bottle of polish from you and shaking it, his phone’s ringtone suddenly goes off. He juts his lips out as he reaches into his pocket to check the number.

"Hello?" he answers, balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder. He opens the polish’s cap and begins painting her nails.

You observe his facial expressions. He has a serious look and frequently nods as he listens to whoever's on the other end of the line. You pluck a green pepper off the pizza and eat it, feeling a swirl of anticipation in your gut.

"Tomorrow? Are you sure?" he asks. You hear an unfamiliar muffled voice before he says, "Awesome, thank you. Call me if anything changes. Okay, bye." He sets down the nail polish and hangs up before resuming painting her pointer finger.

"Who was that?" you ask while tucking a wildflower stem behind his ear. He looks handsome in the evening light.

"My boss," he says, licking his thumb and wiping a smudge he made. “I don't have to go in tomorrow since there are barely any reservations."

"No sparkles," your daughter blurts before you can reply. Harry freezes and eyes you perplexedly.

"What?" you ask. She points to one of her painted nails and frowns. You gently take her hand and observe it closely—no sparkles are showing up. "I'm sorry, sweetie. It must be icky polish. We can take it off and get another one."

It's almost scary how quickly the waterworks start. You exhale as you take the plate from her so she doesn't throw a fit and make a mess. She's crying and staring at Harry like he's the cause of no sparkles. Well, maybe he didn't shake the bottle enough, but you keep your mouth shut so you don't make matters worse.

Harry grabs her waist and props her in front of him. "Mommy said we can get some more, all right? We’re not throwing a tantrum right now. Behave, or I'm not painting your nails."

You could have predicted what happens next from experience. Her harmless fists hit his chest in frustration, and undried polish smears all over his shirt. Harry has always been good at controlling these minor mishaps, so he inhales deeply before lifting her writhing body.

"Early bedtime it is, then," he mutters while walking toward the house.

You begin cleaning up the short-lived dinner. It isn't anything new you've had to deal with, but it exhausts you, especially when she has a tantrum during family time. You take the pizza box out of the trunk, then close it and decide to clean everything else tomorrow. You drive the car up to the garage and lock the doors before stepping inside.

After putting the pizza in the fridge, you stand outside your daughter's bedroom door and listen for any crying or screaming. A sigh of relief leaves you when only subsiding whimpers indicate her tantrum has deescalated for the night.

Opening the door, your heart softens at the sight you walk in on. Harry sits against her headboard, his feet hanging past the edge of her bed, as he cradles his baby girl. He soothingly rocks her side to side with his eyes closed as he rubs circles on her back. Her heavy eyes are barely open, and her tear-stained cheeks are smushed against Harry's chest. She's in her pajamas now.

You kneel next to her bed, and she extends her arm, reaching for you. Harry jolts awake and opens his eyes. His grip loosens when he notices that she wants you. You stand and take her in your arms, her legs hugging your waist. You then sit by Harry's thighs and quietly laugh when you see the residue of pink nail polish staining his shirt.

Harry grins and clasps his hands behind his head, stretching his limbs. "It's not funny. I bought this shirt because of her, and this is what I got in return. She's a menace."

You squeeze his ankle in good nature and say, "I wonder where she gets it from."

He gasps in faux offense and grabs your daughter's hand, shaking it playfully. "Mommy’s being mean, don't you think?"

She sleepily shakes her head. You raise your eyebrows smugly before smattering her cheeks with kisses until she smiles and tiredly whines into your neck.

Harry yawns before catching your gaze and jerking his head toward your stomach. "Should we tell her?" he mouths.

Your heart rate quickens. You're not worried that she'll be upset, considering she’s asked—as best she could with her limited vocabulary—if she could have a sibling on a few occasions. You think it's time to tell her the news now that you're showing.

When you nod, Harry swings his legs over the mattress and crouches between your knees. You shift your daughter so she's settled sideways on your lap, then nod again to let him initiate the conversation.

"We have something to tell you, sweetheart," he says with a fond gentleness reserved only for her. Her head turns away from the safety of your neck. "You know how you've been asking about a baby brother or sister?" She nods languidly, prompting him to ask, "Can you look at Mommy’s belly?"

You situate her beside you and lift the stretchy material of your tank top. Harry says, "There's a baby in her belly." He guides her hand to your bump. "Your brother or sister is growing in there."

Her expression is unreadable at first, but then she gazes at you with curious eyes. "Baby," she utters drowsily. She's about one second away from slipping into a deep sleep.

"I don't think she'll remember in the morning," Harry says with a laugh.

You smile dotingly and stand before tucking her into bed. You kiss her forehead and watch her doze off as Harry tells her goodnight, whispering his boundless love for her and sealing his truthful words with a feather-light kiss to both of her cheeks.

Shutting off her bedside lamp, you leave the room with Harry hot on your heels. You're in the process of pulling your tank top down on the way to your bedroom, but before you can reach the door, Harry grabs your hips, stopping you in the dim hallway.

"You can't look this good and go straight to bed," he says, his breath warm and intimate.

"Mom needs her sleep before work tomorrow," you reply with a smirk. Although you wouldn't mind staying up a bit longer if he continues complimenting you.

"Please, baby," he murmurs, his hands drifting dangerously lower. "Just a quick one, yeah? I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

Don't give in, you tell yourself. Make him work for it. 

"Anything?" you ask sensually as his fingers begin to brush along your inner thighs, causing your knees to weaken temporarily.

Harry licks his lips, his tongue poking your neck with the faintest touch. "Don't act like I wouldn't let you ruin me, darling."

You clench your thighs around his hand, and he groans against your neck. "But I'm so tired, Harry. It won't last very long if I do what I want with you."

"Like I give a shit." He cups your core with his palm, his impatient fingers stroking over the fabric of your silk pajama shorts. "You could give me the sloppiest blowjob ever, and I'd still worship the ground you walk on."

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing the urge to moan. "Will you run me a bath afterward?"

"We can fuck in the bath instead."

You ponder for a second. "It would be an easy cleanup. We'd have to do it in the downstairs bathroom, though, and you'd have to be quiet. Think you can handle that?"

"I don’t know. Do you plan on making me scream?"

"I could always put those suspenders you wore today in your mouth to shut you up."

He exhales a sexy breath, one that reveals you caught him off guard. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

You hum and grab his hand, raising it to your mouth to nip at the calloused pad of his thumb before walking down the stairs to the bathroom just around the corner. The porcelain tub awaits, and you turn the knob and plug the drain. The bay window it sits in front of exhibits an endless ocean and a sky that’s fading into starlit shades of dark blue.

Once the water is high enough and sufficiently warm, you shut the faucet off and begin removing your clothes. Harry enters the bathroom a few moments later and locks the door behind him. He unbuttons his shirt slowly while facing the mirror, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

You step into the tub and watch him. He's taking his trousers off now, his exposed back muscles flexing along with his biceps as he shimmies the garment down his legs. His body is truly something from a beautiful dream. Every inch blesses your eyes.

He's entirely naked when you break away from your reverie. His long legs gracefully step over the tub's ledge to settle behind you. A muted moan escapes him when his cock rubs against your lower back.

"Already making noise, and I haven't even started yet," you tease, leaning into his touch.

"Can you blame me? I have my wife"—his fingers glide against your pulsing entrance—"dripping for me. Absolutely soaked."

"Then do something about it."

Harry palms your clit, and you instinctively bend your knees. "I thought you wanted to be in control tonight."

"Will you be good? You have a reputation for getting antsy and taking over."

His hands travel to your sensitive breasts, squeezing them. "Yeah? Does that bother you?"

"You know I like it when you're submissive. Especially when you whine for me and try to touch me when you know you can't."

"Go on, then. Take care of your husband."

"I'm going to take care of myself first." You turn around and straddle his thighs—above his kneecap, your name is inked permanently.

"Ride it. You're the only one who's allowed to." His hands try to latch onto your waist, but you slap them away.

"Touch yourself while I ride you."

Harry's tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he grips his cock, squeezing and twisting to satiate himself. You grind on his thigh to relieve the building pressure and stifle your moans into his neck. You’re slick with arousal as his thigh muscle flexes with each motion. He starts pumping, his arm resting on the edge of the tub. Your palm presses against his abdomen, causing him to release a choked moan.

You shush him. "You have to be quiet. What do you need? Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you since you're being so good."

"You," he whispers with a pained look etched on his face. "I need you around my cock. Please, please, please."

His voice dies with each plea, and you cradle his limp head as he fully submits to you. Whenever he begs, you unravel too. Your dominant wall crumbles with his whines, and his deep voice always goes a pitch higher to show his desperation for you. His pink lips form solicitous praises and carnal noises of desire. You want to kiss them until they’re swollen and numb.

"I know," you say, kissing the indent between his eyebrows. "I'm ready."

Shakily lifting yourself off his thigh, you get Harry to sit up more in the tub so he can line his cock up with your entrance. When you slowly lower into him, he stretches your walls and sinks deep. Your fingers scratch his chest, your body leaning into him as you ride him. He moans, and you cover his mouth. His muffled whimpers encourage you to go faster.

Through ragged breaths, Harry says, "Let me come on your stomach. You're so beautiful like this."

Who are you to say no to such a filthy request?

"Are you close?" Your question lingers in the air, and Harry seems to be spaced out from pleasure because he doesn't answer. You feel him throb inside you as he jerks his hips up at a different angle. His glistening chest is heaving, and his eyes are pinched shut.

"Harry." You cradle his cheeks to bring him back to earth. "Are you close?"

He hears you this time, nodding fervently until, little by little, he slips himself out of you and stands up in the tub. You follow his lead and sit on the edge so that he towers over you. He holds his cock and looks up at the ceiling as he comes. You hold his free hand to balance him, his legs trembling and his lips pulled inward to stop any moans from escaping.

Harry’s warm release drips down on you, and once he finishes, he falls to his knees in the water, some of it splashing over the tub and onto the floor. His hands grip your ankles to put them over his shoulders, leaving sloppy kisses on your legs. You spread them more so he can finish you off. You could orgasm in two seconds flat if he puts his mouth on you.

"Fingers or mouth?" he asks.

"Mouth. Can I come on you too?"

He whines against your inner thigh. "Yeah?"

You nod, and Harry immediately latches his mouth on your clit. There's already pressure building in your lower stomach. He moves down to lick inside of you, his nose nudging your clit as his hands splay on your bump. It’s a protective move on his part.

"Feels so good," you say, placing your hands on the tub's edge to steady yourself. "I feel it. Please don't stop."

He licks a long stripe upward, not holding back by going inside so deep that it makes you ache. Your legs tighten around him until you sense your burning climax approaching.

"Harry. Please, I need—" You can't finish your sentence because Harry stands up abruptly and hooks his hand under your knees to lift you, carefully stepping out of the tub and setting you on the rug. It's messy and uncoordinated—however, he's never the one to give you a stagnant sex life.

He cradles you as your body quivers, then lays down on his back so you can fulfill your request. You straddle his torso, your slickness settling on his abdomen in the dim lighting of the bathroom. His thumb presses onto your clit, a move that always makes your orgasm boil over. Your neck tilts back, and you come. Harry's hands are everywhere—kneading your ass, rubbing up and down your thighs, and groping your breasts. You ride out the last of your release. His skin is sticky with your arousal, and you eventually collapse on your back next to him in exhaustion.

"C'mere, love," Harry says, his arm extended. “You're too far away."

You exhale, your hands resting on your bump. "I can't. My legs feel like jelly."

Harry snorts a laugh and sits up. He quickly unplugs the drain and crawls over to hover above you, placing a kiss on your stomach. He blindly finds a towel nearby and begins wiping you clean.

"This is the lamest aftercare ever," you say, laughing tiredly. The dry towel doesn't feel nice on your sweaty skin, and Harry's movements are lazy.

"That's enough out of you," he replies through his exhaustion, gently cleaning your stomach.

"Should I take off work tomorrow?" you wonder aloud. "I want to sleep in."

"Yes," he whispers, grabbing your hands to position you upright. His eyes take in every bit of you. "Look at you. You're going to be the death of me."

Every nerve of yours seems to tingle at his words. "Remember when I was pregnant last time, and you nearly broke my back during sex?"

Harry cackles way too loud, and you hush him as his hands slap over his mouth. "I was so scared when that happened. But I could only take you from behind because you were ready to pop, so it's not entirely my fault."

"Excuse me? How is that not your fault?" You yank the towel from his loose grasp and begin cleaning him. "I'm surprised my water didn’t break with how hard you were going."

"Jesus, you've got a dirty mind. Save it for later, would you?"

A comfortable silence ensues while you both wrap towels around your bodies and then head to the bedroom. You pick out one of Harry's shirts and a pair of underwear. He slides into some black boxers. While you ruffle your slightly damp hair, he sneakily picks you up and lightly tosses you on the bed, making you squeal in surprise.

"Are you really going to take off work tomorrow?" he asks, kissing along the column of your throat.

"Yeah. I'll lie and say my morning sickness is bad."

His kisses move to your cheeks. "And what if it actually is?"

"Then my husband will wait on me hand and foot," you say with a grin. "He’ll feed me soup in bed. Massage me. Kiss me better."

Harry tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "You know I'd do that anyway, right? Just say the word, and I'll do anything."

You stare at his kind eyes and inviting lips. The shadow of his dimple even when he's not smiling. His perfect nose that resembles your daughter's. His cheeks that were meant to be pinched fondly. His simple smile that made you fall in love from day one. The love of your lifetime, with a soul that shelters his heart that overflows with love.

"I love you,” you say.

A whispered reciprocation is spoken, and it's all you need in the world.

——

[fisheito]

Crimson Phantom: the one that gfkion got me

Flashback to my old yakutier list: in the top tier, you'll notice that one of these is not like the others:

SO WHAT IS IT DOING THERE????????

Perhaps the reason Crimson Phantom R5 ranks so high is cuz of the PERSONAL HISTORY i got with it. The straw that broke the fish's back? the last drop of water that makes the cup run over and spill onto my socks MOST iRRITATINGLY?Hm. Maybe. Prepare yourself for the longest post yet:

Let me give you a timeline...

May 2022: start playing nuca during Mystical Banquet. First SSR is Endless Banquet Garu. I am intrigued by his musculature and adorable puppy eyes. July 2022: Idol Fest. I only care about Olivine. Captain Oli is the one SSR i get, and i am exceedingly happy. October 2022: Eerie Escapade. I pull for Garu, but get 3 Yakumos. I am bitter and ignore him entirely. November 2022: I don't have many SSRs, so I consider building my 2-star vampire yaku. This would involve unlocking his rooms for the stat boost. I ask Friend A, who also plays nuca, what his rooms are like. Friend A says "it was roleplay cringe but free' I respond, "i expected as much" and do not build up vampire yaku. December 2022: I get Friend B to start playing nuca. Since we live together, it is very easy to spark impromptu , impassioned nuca discussions in the middle of the kitchen. February 2023: Friend B discovers the main menu- Past Events and Galleria, most notably. Their eyes sparkle as they look thru the events they missed. "When did you start playing?" they ask. "Since THIS event." i say, pointing to the Mystical Banquet banner. "Can I see who you have?" I give them my phone. They express mild awe as they scroll. We continue life as usual. March 2023: Friend B gets Spring Chaos Edmond and i am JEALOUS. I say so- regularly and loudly. During one such griping session, this occurs:

Me: you JUST started playing . you cannoT be destroying me in the rolls like this!!! i'm getting NOTHING!! Friend: but you have so many units that I don't! That I didn't even have a chance to get!!! Me: none of them are Beautiful Bride Edmond??!!! Friend: BUT YOU HAVE VAMPIRE YAKUMO Me: ?????????? so??? Friend: GOD HE'S SO BEAUTIFUL AND I'M SO SAD I MISSED HIM Me: you can have him. he's not doing anything over here. i wanted garu!! Friend: YOU HAVEN'T EVEN UNLOCKED HIS ROOMS? THAT'S NOT FAIR. GIVE HIM TO ME. I'LL TREAT HIM RIGHT Me: i wish i could dude i wish i could

Please imagine the utmost confusion on my face the moment my friend equated Bride Edmond's beauty to Vampire Yakumo's.

Because,, from the moment I started nuca, I had zero interest in yakumo's general aesthetic. I was long soured off the vibes due to an extensive history of dating sims shoving a Certain Guy into my face:

"Certain Guy AKA 1st potential love interest is imperious red/black guy who's also kinda the True Ending so we're only giving you the illusion of free will and you will be disappointed by the lack of care we give to other routes compared to this guy. You wanted a character that wasn't him? HAHAHA nah that nobody dies in a ditch offscreen. You were SUPPOSED to fall in love with the 1st guy we showed you and find his attitude problems attractive for the rest of your blissfully coupled life." (The freshest wound at the time was Nobunaga from that Specific branch of the ike series)

Butbutbut!! Yakumo is not imperious??? He's nothing like what you're describing??

Yes, dear reader, your assessment is fair. UNfORtUNATeLY, I'm a shallow ho and just the LOOK of his redblack skeleton embroidery was enough to repel me. The only thing that kept Yakumo in the Neutral zone was that his story self was Wibbly.

Looking at VAMPIRE yakumo, however... This was not wibbly. Here, with his hair slicked back and his torso seemingly widened and his generic bishonen-vampire-halloween-cosplay ...... it irked me. I did not like it. This look was everything I hated about those redblack domineering types haunting my past. The one interesting thing about yakumo (his wibble. his personality subversion of the aggro trope) and they GOT RID OF IT? Nah. I'm not into it. I refuse it out of principle.

I was steadfast in my dismissal of vampyaku for months.. But that was because I played alone- without outside influence.

Then that March conversation with Friend B happened.

SUDDENLY, SOMEONE introduces the POSSIBILITY that YAKUMO in THIS form can be attractive? Huh? Seriously? People think that?Legitimately never occurred to me. Unfortunately, my friend's words are in my head now.

During that convo (a convo which, unbeknownst to me, caused the first cracks in the healthy moderation i held for this game), i jokingly offered to unlock vampire yaku's rooms so my friend could watch them. A peace offering. "PLEASE!!!!!", they yelled,, with effusive sincerity.

Ah... well now I had to commit...

Determined to give my friend a Nice Thing, I threw excess knives at yakumo in my spare time. "I might as well unlock these rooms, and see how bland they are, and maybe sorta achieve vindication when I show them to my friend and they find out how Not Worth It vampire yakumo is compared to bride edmond" (I am fueled by spite and pettiness.)

thus, with time... ROOM 1 UNLOCKED!

Yakumo is wallowing again. Nothing new. He's handling the new cooking duties well, though. Good for him! Eiden is perceptive and wonderful, as usual... ah, eiden, beloved eiden.....i adore him and all the Sense he brings to these traumatised clan members ☺ Oop, there they go! initiating the cliche roleplay! Biting. Blood. Yep. Guess we're doing this.

AND NOW WE'RE GONNA TALK ABOUT ROOM 2

I was so self-satisfied when i unlocked R2. I mean, i wasn't going to show my friend until i unlocked EVERYTHING, but so far? From what I saw? this ain't it. this is SAD. this is... so very unsexy.

the only thing anchoring me to the present while watching this room was eiden's cheeky self. As Friend A remarked long ago, this was indeed cringe roleplay (but eiden is free).

I'm not very adept at voice reading/recognition, but i still felt something was up with yaku's voice. Meaning, it was different. he was REALLY laying it on heavy... It being the Role? Where was his tremulous soft voice? Naaaaaah, here in R2 we got yaku DROPPING octaves like they're on fire and affecting a drawl that...i think... is supposed to add to the seductive dangerous mood? i think? i'm really not good at parsing the horny from the Not fjkdrhgdu

with every extended vowel leaking thru yaku's fangs MY ANTI-NOBUNGA DEFENSES ARE BRISTLING yaku is REALLY playing it [Count Drakumo] up and he is NOT himself and, wait, he's spiralling? ooohhhhhh ok this is not good this is not fun he is not having fun

yes ok we've been over this my boner is dead killed by sadness that's just me not everybody is like me and i should let ppl like what they like MOVING ON

ROOM 3: OOOh Girl How they gonna react after THAT disastrous scene Woah!

Yakumo, angry???? Standoffish???? REfusing to be near Eiden? Interesting.... I mean. No! Not interesting! There's nothing interesting about vampire yakumo! Cliche as hell!!! Conventionally decent-lookin whatever-man is growling and hiding his face in a shadowy corner while saying things like "oh i'm a horrible monster .who could truly love me?!" and "stay away!! i'll only hurt you!!!"

Eiden: starts spouting truths about how the perception of "bad" and "undesirable" traits don't negate an entire person's positive traits and that someone's value can't be determined by such rigid thinking

Me: dammit eiden. stop making sense. i'm trying to hold a grudge here .............i'm starting to get hungry...

ROOM 4: OOPS I LOVE EIDEN AGAIN

I LOVE YOU EIDEN AND READING THIS ROOM MADE ME LOVE YOU EVEN MORE yakumo is, once again, spiralling in his self-hatred. i, on the other side of the screen, am getting weary. tbh, if you asked me to react to yakumo in real time, i would not know how to behave appropriately. i probably would have dismissed his concerns in some way (empty reassurances or bored ignoring).

but eiden??? ebeatutiiful emotionally UNconstipated FULL OF EMPATHY FIBRE eiden? candid... communicative... accepting yet not encouraging the dark thought patterns. . a self-aware king...

so when eiden gets in front of that mirror to demonstrate the self-talk "training":

I AM SO ENDEARED AND IM LO IBVE UHJIJM....

When Eiden gives yaku a chance to try, poor snakey doesn't know what to say. So Eiden whispers all these nice words and affirmations while standing behind yaku, expecting him to repeat them outloud THEN OF COURSE THE SILLY GUY ESCALATES TO HORNY AND I HAVE TO 🤣🤣🤣

ok, i'll begrudgingly admit... pretty cute interaction... and funny... if there's one way to win me over it's The Funny... how dare. how dare this room make me smile. I'm having a little giggle. Over a Yakumo room. THANKS eiden. For injecting humour into anything and making everything seem more tolerable...

After the practice run, Yaku ends up spilling his actual fears about his dual natures... but eiden insists that he can handle both.

yaku: if i think these dark thoughts does that make me a bad person eiden: well we all have layers n stuff so go wild yaku: if. if i. wanna lock u away all for myself and gnaw on your bones forever and keep u attached to my skin like an anglerfish absorbs mates into their flesh. will u hate me??? eiden: girl let your freak flag fly. i can take u ;););)

OKAY. SO MAYBE I CAN SORT OF SEE THE POTENTIAL FOR *NOT-AS-SAD* HORNY. THIS IS QUITE NICE (i comment mildly, gesturing to the emotional catharsis and deepening your understanding of another person). Now that yaku is emboldened in uh, being himself? all versions of himself? let's see how boinking is gonna go. hopefully it will be quite the departure from R2's struggle hours...

FUFIOKIN. ROOM 5: BANE OF MY EXISTENCE

The FIRST thing that strikes me when the room starts is

EIDEN YOU ARE SO HOT WHAT TH BRWOIJAOIEWFSKAESFKJLFEA?

INIPPL?

EIDEN'S HANDS? I'M BITING THEM? LET ME BITE THEM??? Yeah so i'm just staring at eiden displayed proudly in the mirror and a bird could probably land in my mouth with how it was hanging open, thinking, "yall know how to lewd your protagonist, nuca.... respect....." i'm distracted, but i need to move the room along so

.? ⚠! (ALERT NOISE) (ping!) the only yakumo room i've unlocked at this point is the OG SSR/Story H. i may have seen idol r2, too. so my current image of yakumo at this point is: -wet -crying -subby little baby

therefore, him saying he's GOING TO TEASE EIDEN causes my brow to upturn. 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 really? really, yakumo? YOU? are you even capable of doing that? can you do more than one thing [be wet baby]? i doubt it. these games always choose one niche for a character and stick to it... you caNNOT drift into switchery. try it i dare u (<- famously lesser-known last words)

eiden, in line with "i can take all of you", responds that he likes both. and btw, this ain't one-sided. he warns that he's about to weaponise bottoming again. if yakumo thinks he can just lead eiden around, lolollololo l good luck. my boy's gonna squeeze him dry (seriously. i have zero faith in yakumo's ability to stay in control of any situation)

OK! so! they're fukin *mundane hand gesture. rollin it along*

yakumo slows his roll and is all, actually, part of the fun is looking at you confused and needy :3 so he's going at a super lax pace and adjusting his dick angle and some other tactical penis feint that's edging eiden into horny frustration

as if i'm cheering on my fave racehorse, i start YELLING when eiden ~~snatches back the reins~~~~

WEAPONISE! 👏THAT!! 👏BOTTOM!!!!!!!👏🏭🎬ATTABOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!📣📣📣🔊📢🔊🎖🥳📣🔊📢

wait what ........HOW HAS HE NOT LOST IT? if eiden went off on me like that, uhhhhhhhhhhh hahahaha rest in pesis i'm losing immediately but... crybaby.... is holding it together? in fact, he somehow TAKES CONTROL AGAIN??????? THET F ????

idk guess i'm shocked with processing another side of yakumo that i didn't expect,, i avoided yakumo because his look served potential for "2000s toxic seme" energy. but i tolerated him because his ACTUAL personality was NOT That. yet... now he's showing that exact domineery junk and i'm ..ok with it? Is it specifically because i've only seen him be pathetic in every other room?!

i'm just gonna...a. take a moment here to... maybe sort of understand the predicament i'm in along with my growing . something. admiration? for yakumo. uhhh.... hmmmm..........

yeah ok whatever people can be freaks about nipples i guess

SHIT I FORGOT HE HAS COLD HANDS . SHIT. I FORGOT I LIKE COLD HANDS SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'M INTO THAT?

NOT THE NECK BITING AGAIN AHAHAHAHAAHHAHHA FOR REAL?????? VAMPIRE COSPLAY SERIOUS????? (<- my voice has gone an octave higher as i start panic laughing)

i don't know why i didn't expect that here. do i just not think ahead? it's stupid count drakumo. of course he's gonna suck blood. at least twice. maybe the rest of you saw it coming, and rolle dyour eyes. ahahaha, how very trite. how very standard.

did the active shattering of my preconceived yakumo.png weaken me THAT much? was i sudddenly swept up into the revelation thata game was Finally going beyond the yaoi dichotomy? to make someone subby AND dommy? Was i SO swept up that the "cringe vampire roleplay" bypassed my eyerolling sensor?!?!?!

i've got a single nervous bead of sweat making its way down my back and it's cuz of the very simple combo of hole/temperature/neck

so while i'm taking another impromptu wary pause , stewing at how DEVASTATED i may or may not be idk whatever it's not a big deal that the neck bite isn't shown on screen

LOGIC: that makes sense. animating and drawing that separate pose in this setup would be way too much work for 2 sentences. HORNY: TEAR INTO HIM. SUCK HIM DRY. LET ME

SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

yeah for real. I'M feeling attacked right now. eiden trying his best not to splort from the three-pronged feel-up (struggling like an amorous salmon up a waterfall) when suDNDEnly

......?

*RECORD SCRATCH* ?!?!?!?!?!??!?????!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!???!!!!!??????????????????????? ?????!?!?!?!?????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?????E?!?FKFOO>>>>?VFF??A""????":??"??????!?!!??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

👆

WHAT WAS THAT?

*runs into the adjacent room like it's a reality tv privacy booth* *slams the door and stares incredulously at the camcorder* *points toward the room i just left*

IS THAT ALLOWED?

Is Yakumo legally allowed to say "fuck"?????

*falls into a hushed and baffled whisper* i don't have enough Japanese comprehension to parse exactly what yakumo said oh god i wish i had the comprehension is this a translator liberty? is it real? because if the original speech was actually more reserved but the translators were like "bro that ain't sexy. just write FUCK"?? i guess that wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility? but if yakumo legitimately said "fuck" ...... AND dropped the honorific from eiden's name?! .......... huh! ohhhhhhhh *ruffles my hair out of confusion* did he really say that? i mean ok he's a grown ass snan i shouldnt ' be scandalised like i hear d an infant say FUCK as its first word , 11 months out of the womb ....... *deep breath* ok. don't dwell on it. gotta return to the task at hand. *steadfastly turns the doorknob and returns to my previous location*

so eiden looks like what i feel right now (in the key of: !?!?!?) thankfully the surprise doesn't last long in the face of his shamelessness (blessed be eito), so he tries to repeat after yakumo but yakumo's drilling him so hard that brain mysgh muysh can't really... speak..prororperly

SUHUT THE FUCCK UP YAKUMO I'VE NEVER BEEN SO OFFENDED BY SUCH A SHORT SENTENCE GO AWAY WITH YOUR THIRTY SHADES OF COUNT DOMKUMO PARADING IN HERE THINKIN YOU CAN DISH OUT ORDERS LIKE THSI WHEN YOU'R E NORMALLY A SOBBING MESS BY NOW=====----

*pinches in between my brows* uueugh...... eiden doesn't get to finish his task but they go at it until the screen goes white with that powerful SPLOOSH we all know and love

and yakumo FINALLY breaks character getting juiced released a bit of his control i guess we hear an "uhu" at last. he uses his pathetic wibble to ask eiden for more because he's still hard. of course he is...... mans is never done.......dick ouroboros with the way he never ends.......

BUT THEN EIDEN PULLS A FACE THAT GRABS MY ENTIRE BRAIN AND FLOODS ME WITH SO MUCH AFFECTION

I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY JUST LOOK AT HIM SLUTTY BLEP i was having an out-of-body experience i was suddenly going over every BL i've ever played and how none of the protags were ever this unabashedly INTO IT (of course we are only here because we build upon the foundations of our gay ancestors THANK YOU GAYASS SPIRITS OF YORE , ) BUT! i'm experiencing a grand realisation of how far we've come and how eiden being a slutty versatile dweeb enriches my life to untold measures and his stupid cute little ;P thirsty look is going to sustain me for years and also i love it so much i'm going to screenshot it and keep it in my gallery just so i can look at it whenever i think about homophobia existing ever . i love u eiden get that dick and hole forever💖

now that yakumo is all vulnerable and Himself and freed from his edgy persona , he's just pounding into eiden liek 🥺 i'm just a normal snokai right? 🥺😥 so it's ok to act the way i truly want to❓ you'll accept all of me? 😖 i'm not a horrible irredeemable monster ?? 😧💦 you still want me? here?? with you???🥺🥺🥺 i'm allowed to make you feel good??😢?😭?😥 of course eiden affirms all this with a big moany yes (in surprisingly eloquent words despite the state of his anus)

and to top it all off, the room provides a full circle of plot by letting eiden complete his failed "repeat after me" task from before..- with a horny addendum about how he can't get enough of yakumo's dirty expressions, because of course our boy has to get the last word.

ahhh,,, like an epic movie,, it all comes together. loose ends tied and fucklines affirmed. tasks fulfilled; pervert's journey complete;; we, the audience, can go home with satisfied closure.

after-credits sceNe: when the post-nut clarity hits yakuei, i am brick'd with overwhelming concern about eiden's leg. how has it NOT cramped this entire time, being held up like that.? what was that? at least 15 minutes?! of lifting up one leg and spreading it so wide? damn, boy, is ya potassium that powerful? no calf cramps? nothing? eiden your sexual athleticism is unrivalled. i am in awe.

Note!

When i first watched these rooms, I didn't have headphones. Months later, i finally got to watch the scenes WITH SOUND. and i was so very pleased to hear that yakumo's voice in R5 was a nice middle ground between his suuuuper drawly heavy cosplay mode R2 angstvoice,, and his regular uhuu soft voice. it's definitely more himself, but with the added confidence of roleplaying ehuehue so it's just nice!! to hear him being more secure in himself!! and enjoying the situation!! but also teasing eiden and enjoying the power plays?? yay! near the end he returns almost fully to his regular voice due to , you know, whiny pleady 🥺 feels-too-good things afoot and that just .... upped the affection for me.... ugh... so he CAN do both......

in future watches, i eventually take the time to look at yakumo's face instead of eiden's. . .

and i do NOT like where my subsequent thoughts go

oh no he's hot.......................

WE RETURN TO REALITY. IT IS SOME TIME BETWEEN MARCH AND MAY (2023). I HAVE AT LAST UNLOCKED ALL OF CP YAKUMO'S ROOMS. I AM IN MY ROOM AND I AM SHOOKETHED. Shortly, I seek out Friend B, the catalyst for this train of horror and realisation. I tell them the task is done. Eventually, i give them my phone so they can watch their beloved vampire yakumo rooms. I couldn't even hand it over with the derisive scoff I THOUGHT I would show. the look of absolute dismissal that used to appear whenever someone mentioned crimson phantom yakumo. No, i handed it over with thinly concealed amusement . perhaps even excitement, that someone would soon share in something that so pleasantly surprised me. A part of me wished for them to return my phone with a disappointed "tch". to tell me that, oh, that wasn't very good after all. you were right. i could have missed out on vampire yakumo and lost nothing. Unfortunately, they returned my phone later that evening . their eyes glittered with the glee of someone whose hopes were beautifully fulfilled. "OH MY FUCKING GOD I KNEW it was gonna be amazing!", they bubbled. "Yeah." is all i could say... . I spend the following weeks slowly falling victim to yakumo's charms. By June, I am putting up posters of him all over my room while talking about how much i hate him.

SUMMARY: like nuca itself, it started as a joke and now the quences have conned. i'm suffering the cussions, reperfully. eiden did NOT help. he was beautiful and amazing from every angle and that added to the positive associations with these rooms,, and by extension, yakumo. and now? now i hate this snakeboy for what's he's done to me. i'm p sure he's actively moving the goalposts on my preferences as i type. i'm scared. he has too much power . that this mushy noodle would subvert tropes by following the old kabedon-seme script then DO IT AGAIN by hitting me with the SUBVERT REVERSE BEAM #2 and now i dream about railing him under the moonlight.

it was all downhill from that accursed roleplay. eiden's a gayteway drug. he fkoin got me. and now yakumo's got me too