#because this is what they feel like when they're starting to surface

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

☆ Silver's Sinful Sunday ☆

Week Four: Azriel

Warnings: 18+ [MDNI], enemies with benefits (mates), fem reader, choking, p in v, reader is kinda a brat, dominant Azriel, no use of Y/N, pet names, slight angst at the end, it's my writing — that's a warning within itself (cringe), all actions are with consent ofc

A/N— Week four was originally Vox (Hazbin Hotel). Refer to this post for the reason why it's not. Azriel was intended to be week five, but he's been moved to week four. The style for this one is also a little different than the others. . . Oopsies. . . Your honor, they're actually in love with each other but they're idiots. . .

Word Count: 2.8K

“Let me in.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine despite the massive argument the two of you had been in less than an hour ago. It was over something so petty that you didn't even remember what it was about, but you were still heated over it.

The anger simmered just beneath the surface, a feeling only he could evoke. It both drove you wild and pissed you off at the exact same time. 

“I know you're in there. Let me in.”

After every argument, Azriel found his way to your door. After every argument, it always ended the same way. There were never apologies. Apologies didn't exist between the two of you. The thought of one alone was highly amusing.

You reached the door with a scowl, twisting the brassy colored knob in your firm grasp. The door swung open, revealing the very male you knew it'd be.

His gaze roamed unabashedly over your form. From your hair to the silken midnight blue nightgown that hugged your curves in all the right places, all the way to the soft glow of your skin in the warm light of your bedroom.

“What?” You hissed, eyes narrowing.

He hummed approvingly, noting how you were still heated from the argument. “Are you going to let me in, or just glare at me?” His voice was deep and raspy, telling you everything you needed to know. The reason why he'd come, just like the other times.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, turning on your heel to return to your vanity. The door was left wide open; Azriel stepped in, shutting and locking the door behind him, watching closely as you walked away from him.

“Do you have any idea how mad you made me out there?” Azriel asked as he walked towards you, his steps quick, but quiet. His body moved with ease, like a prowling animal, every muscle rippling with every step.

“You started it. You pissed me off.” You sharply bit back, stopping in front of the mirror to take off the last remnants of the lipstick that Mor had wanted you to try because she thought it would look good on you. She was right, as usual.

He came up behind you, his large frame towering over you in the mirror. Azriel's hands landed on your hips, pinning you against the vanity in front of you. His hard chest pressed against your back, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear. “I may have started it, but you don't know when to shut your little mouth.”

"I thought you liked my mouth wide open." You snapped with a small, barely noticeable rumble of a growl, glaring at him in the mirror as he pressed against you. 

He chuckled and he slid his large hand up your body, gently wrapping his fingers around your throat, his hand almost covering your entire neck.

"I do. But I also like it when you're a good little princess and shut up and listen. I like it when you're good for me." He moved his other hand, letting it run over your thigh.

He moved his lips over your neck, letting his tongue trail over your sensitive skin, feeling your pulse in his hand. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before you open that pretty mouth of yours to say something you'll know will piss me off, hm?"

His hand on your thigh moved higher, letting his hand slide under the fabric of your nightgown, running his hand over the smooth skin of your hip.

“Don't act like you don't fucking love it.” You growled, fighting the urge to react to his touch. He didn't deserve to see you melt into his touch. Ha. No.

A dark chuckle fell from his lips, his breath warm on your skin. “You're right. It makes it more fun when I shut you up. . . I like it when you can't hide how much you want me.” His teeth grazed your neck. 

“Go fuck yourself.”

A low chuckle came from him again, he didn't expect anything different from you. You were stubborn and defiant. But he liked it, loved it even. You were the only one who dared to talk back to him, to fight and argue with him. It drove him crazy.

"Such a filthy little mouth." His hand fell from your throat and he spun you around to face him, lifting you up, sitting you on the vanity and standing in between your thighs.

His hands ran up your thighs, his hands disappearing under the fabric of your nightgown, gripping your hips and tugging you closer against his front. He moved his lips to your ear again, his chest now pressed up against yours as his breathing quickened.

"You know, for someone who was so angry a moment ago, you seem to be enjoying my touch now. Your breathing, the way your heart is racing, the way your legs are opened wide for me.”

You growled at the clear smugness in his tone, your eyes narrowing into a glare once the brief shock from his quick movements wore away.

"You know, your little growl sounds more like a moan to me, love." He grabbed your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he stepped forward, pressing his hips against yours so you could feel how hard he already was. His mouth moved down your neck again, gently nipping and sucking your skin.

"You can stay defiant, but your body is telling a different story.”

Your slender fingers gripped the collar of his clothes and forced him to look at you as your legs locked around his waist, pulling him closer. "Stop. Playing. Games. Azriel." You snarled.

He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him as he stared down at you with his darkened gaze. He leaned close, his lips hovering just inches away from yours. "Why don't you just admit you want me, princess?” 

"Maybe I should just go ask Cassian if he'd want to —”

The moment you mention Cassian's name, something snapped inside of him. His grip on you tightened, and he let out a low possessive growl. His hand slid up, wrapping around your neck. "Not. A. Chance. He's not allowed anywhere near you, do you understand me?”

"It seems I've struck a nerve." You spat, a dark grin spreading across your face as you stared up at him.

He let out a low growl, his grip on your throat tightening a bit more. "Cassian won't be able to give you what you need, sweetheart. I know how much you want me right now, and deep down, you know you can't deny it. You're mine."

His hips ground against yours, making you feel the further evidence of how much he wanted you. "You're mine, princess. Say it.”

“Choke.” You muttered darkly.

His hand tightened around your throat, constricting it in a way that had you releasing a soft moan despite the glare set on your face.

He chuckled again, watching that expression on your face. "I can tell how much you want this." His voice was low and gravelly against your ear. His hips continued to grind against yours, putting just the right amount of pressure where you wanted it.

You groaned, which turned into an almost embarrassingly needy moan very quickly. You glared harder, hating the way he reduced you to a writhing mess so easily. . . Knowing what was imminent, you reached down and began unlacing his pants at a tantalizing slow pace.

The fabric came loose in your grasp and he immediately shed them, along with his underwear, tossing them somewhere in the room before he slid a hand back under the hem of your nightgown, expecting to meet the lace fabric of your panties. He let out a low growl when, instead of fabric, his hand immediately met your slick folds. 

You gasped softly as he ran a finger through them before gently thrusting two fingers into you, while his thumb rubbed gently on your clit, his other hand finding its way back to your throat as if it was magnetic. 

He moved his hand in a steady rhythm, listening to the sweet sounds you tried and failed to stifle. 

“You're so desperate for me, aren't you? You need me, don't you?” 

You could only moan softly as his fingers curled deliciously within you.

“Say it. Say you need me. Say you're mine.” 

"Yours." You gasped out a moan. "I'm all yours — GODS, I need you, Az. . ."

He loved hearing those words from you, loved hearing you admit how much you needed him. . . Loved seeing you completely surrendering yourself to him. "Good girl. That's it, princess. I'm the only one who can make you feel like this.”

He dipped his head down, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin on your neck, as his hand continued to move in that steady rhythm between your thighs. "You're all mine, princess. No one else gets to touch you, to make you needy and desperate for release like this. Say it. Tell me you're mine.”

"I'm yours." You moaned, your hips bucking slightly, seeking more friction than what he was giving you. 

You hated how in control he was.

You hated the way his fingers alone made the heat within you build, threatening to snap.

You hated the way you didn't really hate any of it.

He grinned as he continued to leave marks on your neck, moving down to your chest. "Louder, princess. I want you to say it, louder. I want you to admit how much you need me." His hand between your legs moved faster, applying more pressure, knowing it will drive you crazy.

You let out a loud, needy moan. "Need you so bad, Az. . . So bad. . . Please. . !" You gasped.

You needed him. You hated how much you needed him, but at the end of the day, the two of you were mates, destined to be, and maybe, just maybe, the harsh words exchanged could turn into soft, reassuring words. . . Unlikely, but possible. . . Maybe. 

"Good girl. That's it, princess. I like it when you're needy like this. I love knowing that you're all mine. I love hearing you begging for me." He says against your chest, his mouth moving down to one of your sensitive mounds. He continued to suck and lick, his hand between your legs still moving steadily, but he could feel how eager you were, how impatient you were getting. "Be a good girl for me, princess. Tell me what you want. You need to ask for it.”

“Fuck me, Az. . . Please. . .”

He chuckled, a low, possessive growl coming from his chest. There was an intense look on his face as he slowly moved his hands away from their placements — stealing his fingers away from your core before you could come around them —  gently grabbing you by the hips and pulling you forward off the vanity. With ease, he pushed you up against the wall next to the mirror, pressing himself against you.

He moved his hips forward, letting you feel how hard you made him, letting you feel how much he'd been wanting you. "I'm going to make you remember who you belong to. Who you've always belonged to." He looked into your eyes, his expression full of desire and possession, a hint of a smirk on his face.

You glared slightly but gasped softly as he pressed forward, entering you inch by inch. 

He let his mouth roam over your neck again, moving down to the top of your chest, gently nipping and sucking on the skin, leaving marks that would be visible in the morning. His hands stayed firmly on your hips, keeping you in place as he slowly moved in and out of you.

"You're mine, princess. You're mine, not only in this room, but out there too. Everyone needs to know who you belong to.”

"Fuck you." You ground out, fighting back a moan at how he was making you feel. But the moan spilled out anyway.

He grinned against your skin, knowing he was getting to you. "That's it, princess. You can try and be defiant, but you'll eventually break. You'll break for me, like you always do. That mouth of yours is always going to end up wide open, just for me, whether you admit it or not." He moved his head up, looking into your eyes, his intense stare holding you captive.

You moaned as he hit a certain spot before growling and capturing his lips in a fiery, lustful kiss. It was new territory, but something within you told you to do it. . . Perhaps it was that taunting golden string tethering your souls together. . . Or maybe you just wanted him to shut the fuck up.

He quickly took control of the kiss, pushing your head up against the wall as he dominated you. His hips moved harder and faster against yours, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, combining with the sound of your and his moans.

"You're mine, princess. No one else can make you feel like this.”

You knew without a doubt in your mind that he was right. No one could. No one would.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you, watching your face twist into ecstasy and pleasure, hearing your moans and sounds fill the room. He loved how shamelessly you gave yourself over to him, how you couldn't fight it, no matter how much you'd tried before. He loved how you were his.

He moved his hands from your hips, one gripping your neck again, his fingers lightly closing around your throat, the other moving to your thigh, hitching your leg up over his hip, giving him a deeper angle to work with.

Your eyes rolled back as you moaned louder. Gods, he knew your body far too well. Your desires. Just the right way to push your buttons — just the right angle to thrust mercilessly into you. 

He loved the sound of your moans, the way your body was responding to him, the way your eyes rolled back when he pushed you right to the edge. He knew you better than anyone else, and he loved that he had this power over you, that you willingly gave into that power, even if you didn't like it a few minutes ago. He knew you needed this, just as much as he needed you. 

He leaned forward, whispering against your ear, his voice low and gruff. "You're mine... say it. I want to hear you say it, princess.”

"Shut up." You moaned out with a slight groan.

He chuckled against your skin. You could always try to resist him, but you'd never be able to win. He loved how stubborn you were, but he also loved being able to take that stubbornness away from you, to make you completely surrender to him.

"You just can't help defying me, can you, princess? But then again, I know exactly how to set you straight, don't I?" He tightened the grip around your neck, his fingers pressing against your pulse point, knowing how wild it would make you. 

"Fuck — I'm yours." You moaned pathetically. "I fucking hate you, but I'm yours. . .”

"That's right, princess. You're mine. Now, and always. You can hate me and fight me all you want, but deep down, you know that you belong with me..” He continued to move against you, faster and harder, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

He moved his hand down, his thumb gently tracing slow circles against your clit, adding even more sensation and pleasure. 

You knew he could tell you were close. He always could. The way your breath caught. The way you subtly met his thrusts. The way you clenched around him so sinfully and your eyes fluttered closed.

"Give in, princess. Let yourself go. Let yourself feel all of this.”

Then pleasure crashed into you as the steadily growing, hot coil snapped and you fell over the edge right into an orgasm, your breathing heavy as you slowly began coming down from the high.

Seeing you completely lose yourself sent him over the edge, his release intense and powerful, his body going taut as he let himself go inside you, his forehead falling against yours as he leaned against you, trying to catch his breath.

He took a few moments to regain his bearings, his body still pressed up against yours as his hands gently held your hips, still holding you in place.

There was some part of you that wanted to ask him to stay, but as he slowly separated the two of you, setting your feet back on the smooth hardwood floor with shaky legs, before going to locate his clothes that he had hastily discarded in the heat of the moment, you knew this was how it was. 

He dressed, sparing a quick glance back at you before leaving your room. Wordlessly. Leaving you with his cum slowly spilling out of you. . . You also knew that you'd have to start another argument with him tomorrow. . . Just so you could have him close again.

Because even you knew that you didn't truly hate him.

[thehigherseekerastro]

Random Astrology Observations (Alternative Meanings Love Edition) 2 🤨❤️🤔

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way, shape or form a professional astrologer, modern or traditional.

I HAVE been studying astrology for a while now, and analysing charts available to me, as well as my own, and noticed a lot of the info you find online doesn't make sense in real life, because it is too reductive, stereotypical or lacks broader context. So I thought I'd share some of my personal observations to see if it resonates with anyone.

This is NOT the end all, be all. Apply it as it makes sense to you.

**************************************************

The 1st House 🙋‍♂️

The 1H in synastry is a tricky one, because the first house itself is related to our individual identity. It is the house of self. So, when it comes to having a love planet here, things can get really murky. You'll often hear that it indicates instant attraction, but also only surface-level. While that is not entirely wrong, it would be a disservice to reduce it to just that. Yes, first house ties back to your physical appearance and external impact. But what does that mean for someone else being impacted and impacting that? Does it even apply in synastry? The answer is: YES. And it goes much deeper than you'd think. It will talk about an immediate recognition. It talks of being mesmerized by someone's look and demeanor, but that comes accompanied with an obsessive need to know more about you, to be around you, to soak up as much of you as possible, as if to aggressively learn you. And that's because you will tickle all the boxes the person had been holding inside (and vice-versa).

(e.g.: having someone's planet(s) fall into your 1st house doesn't just mean they will be attracted to you, if it's romantic. It also means the person feels like you two share a vibe, share interests, ideas. It means they feel like you move according to their speed, and therefore, that could lead to a lot of trust and comfort on their part, because you feel like a safe place. Not in the same sense as the 4H, but in a more "this person will have my back, cause we're the same!" kind of way. It makes the person feel like you are enough, because you fit them. So even if everyone else disagrees with them or doesn't understand them, they'll sort of look over at you, and if you validate them, that will be enough for them. They'd rather have your approval – since you are someone who gets them – than to have the approval of a bunch of people who don't understand where they are coming from.)

It truly is a beautiful thing, but even positive planets with positive aspects can lead to unwanted side-effects. The house person could come to resent the planet person because of how much they like them. Depending on who the house person is – if they have a dominant or prideful personality, for example – they may come to resent and even become angry with the planet person at times, because they'll feel so strongly for the planet person that they could start acting out of character for them, and that can make them feel like they're losing control of themselves. And as human beings, what do we do when we feel out of control? Shift blame and start looking for culprits. This DOES tend to wear off, though, exactly because of how intensely the house person feels for the planet person, but it can burn hot for a minute or two, specially if they end up getting into an ugly fight and the 1H person tries to forget the planet person, but they can't bring themselves to hate them. They'll get angry at the fact that no matter how hard they try to hate the person, they still feel enchanted by them.

(this could also create an unwanted feeling of "nobody else is like them", so the 1H could panic a bit at the thought of losing the planet person because 1H synastry creates the immediate feeling of the "perfect person for me", so imagine thinking you found the perfect person for you... it can make you feel like if you lose them you'll never recover, because no one else will be like them or able to replace them as perfectly)

All in all, though, first house Synastry tends to usually show up good results, depending on the planets and aspects involved. Another aspect of this synastry that doesn't get talked about for some reason is the fact that they tend to obsess over and notice the tiny details in each other. So it creates this effect of falling for them over and over and over again, cause they'll keep finding little things about the other person that they find enchanting, and THAT'S what creates the physical attraction. It's not that the planet or house person are conventionally attractive to everyone – they might not even fit the beauty standards –, but to the house person, those little details will sort of build up the planet person's beauty step by step, and by the time they catch on, they'll be enamored with every part of them, so, to the house person, the planet person truly is the most beautiful thing ever.

(1H house synastry also brings a 1st house energy to the attraction. NO - NOT ARIES. First house. But it will sound like arian qualities because Aries does rule the first house, after all. What this means is that a big part of the attraction for the 1H person is feeling like the planet person is independent, self-sufficient, confident, self-assured and capable. Because it's taping into their 1st house of self, the house person can sort of see the best of themselves reflected on the planet person, which means they feel like all the things they are insecure to show the world, the planet person has and is not afraid to show them. So they feel like planet person not only embodies their attraction ideal, but also the ideal personality they wish they had themselves. Which they do, but they don't realize it until planet person comes along and brings it out of them.)

First house Synastry is a complex kind of Synastry that is much more psychological than it's given credit for. People often focus on superficial physical attraction and gloss over the fact that it's like somebody is literally stepping into your mind and making your inner fantasies come out. It can feel very vulnerable and intense.

The 7th House 💍

Oh, isn't this one a gem?! Perhaps one of the most sought after in synastry. But the idea here is to provide an alternative perspective, so here goes: if it's badly aspected, or there's other challenging factors involved (the person falling into your 7H is problematic themselves), you're gonna run into the issues people often attribute to 1st house synastry, such as superficiality and a "false love" because 7H Synastry, regardless if it's good or bad, creates somebody who's "perfect on paper". They say the right things, they do the right things, they seem to fit into your whole ideals. But that does not guarantee that that's who they truly are. That's just who you think they are. Remember – the 7H is the house of "other". So it's not about you. It's about the other. But it's rather how you act around said other, and also how you perceive them.

(It's tough to say this, but you gotta be real to help some people out there who might have had 7H Synastry and didn't understand why the relationship failed, since everyone online claims it's a guaranteed soulmate. It's because Synastry goes both ways. And all houses have good and bad. There is no such thing as the perfect Synastry. But in the case of the 7H, I'd say it's the real life case of "if it's good, then it will be amazing. Truly a soulmate. But if it's bad... it will be awful. Just not immediately.)

Going off of the previous comment, another grim way this Synastry can turn out is in its binding effect. And I don't mean anything spiritual or abstract here. I mean literally binding. Imagine a relationship going sideways like that AND you are also now married or share a business together. MESS! This is the house of contracts and long-term. Remember Saturn exalts in Libra, because Libra likes things that last, and Saturn is the planet of long-term, so the house of Libra will sprinkle that lasting effect over whatever it touches. And if you're in a 7H relationship, that relationship will last with you, whether good or bad. It will take A WHILE to break off from it, either mentally, emotionally, psychologically, legally or financially.

(e.g. somebody has their moon in your 7H, but it's a moon at fall, in Scorpio, and it's afflicted in their natal chart. Now, at the beginning they will seem like a gift from God directly to you, so much so that you decide to make it official... And then, one or two years in, living together, each day it gets more toxic and draining and the dark sides just oozes out of your relationship. But now you are legally married, and divorcing will take time, bureaucracy, money and emotional energy, not to mention you'll have to uproot your entire life, explain it to your social circles and families... And what seemed like your dream come true was in fact a bitter lesson to learn).

To veer away from the dark twists of the last ones, let's dissect the correlations people make with the 7th house, like "oh, your spouse will be interested in art, and beauty, and music, and sophisticated things!" Why? Are you marrying a Libra? A Libra rising? Somebody with a Libra Venus? No? Then that has nothing to do with 7H Synastry. Houses are not signs, signs are not houses. Libra is one thing, the 7H is another. Venus rules Libra, which resides in the 7H, but Venus doesn't rule the 7H. It merely influences the 7H. It would be a better guess to say you might have met your person while they (or you) were already in a relationship than it is to say you met because of beauty-related things, or art, or music, since the 7H doesn't talk of any of those things, but it DOES talk of committed relationships.

(e.g. you might have met the person right after they (or you) got divorced. They might be connected to an ex of yours. Or another possibility that isn't talked about is how the person you eventually end up with is someone you have liked for a long time, but never got the chance to be with until now. Since this is the house of long-term relationships, having placements here could indicate that the person you ultimately stay with long-term is someone you already knew prior to getting together, but you needed to experience other relationships before you united with them.)

Another final aspect of placements in this house is the fact that it doesn't just deal with your love relationships, but also the way you consciously present yourself with others. How you behave socially. But also the mirror effect of this house, speaking directly about love. This is, after all, the house directly opposing the 1st house of self. In that regard, this is similar to 1H synastry, with the exception that in this one, instead of you coming out of your shell subconsciously, you make a conscious effort to become your best for your person here. You want to live up to all of your potential.

The 2nd House 💆‍♂️

This one is a bit tricky for me, because I'm not materialistic AT ALL. I have a Taurus Lilith in the 2nd house, so, I express it on the other end of the spectrum. When you have that placement, you either put too much value on money and material things, or you are completely unattached from it, and that's me. So the whole "money this, money that!" vibe is not my scene. I don't see a price in life, I see value. With that said, let's get this going.

Yes, this is the house of money and material things. Yes, it will deal with your personal finances. But no, unless other parts of your chart/Synastry agree with it, somebody's placements falling here should not have a lasting effect. It might merely indicate you overspending on dates and gifts. The 2H is the house of YOUR money, which means that the whole "oh, they're gonna shower you in gifts!", "And this is a sugar baby aspect!", "Your person will want to spend all their money on you and buy you expensive things!" is probably not gonna happen, sorry. If it does, it will be you spending your money.

(And if you do spend your money, the whole "gifts" thing is also not that common, because normal people don't just go around buying gifts for others every other day of the week, unless they have some sort of imbalance. Such a consumerist mindset! Not everything is about paying for things or buying things. That's a VERY American culture of dating, specially for women. This nasty idea that a man has to buy you or he's not good. Which is what encourages habits like thinking the man always has to be covering your finances (how old are you, 5? Get a job and pay for your own damn self! You are an adult woman), paying for your food, buying you a house, giving you gifts all the time and affording expensive dates. You are not a product. If your biggest incentive to be with a man is because of how much he pays for you, then that's the world's oldest profession, not a relationship of love. So this should play out more like them helping you manage your own finances. Don't go around thinking a 2H love placement is gonna turn you into Cinderella.)

If you do happen to be a stay-at-home person in your relationship, which is valid, as long as it's not all about money, 2H love placements and synastry will talk more about other material aspects of things. It will talk of stability, sustainability, longevity and security.

(e.g.: it could mean that you allocate your resources towards creating a safe, stable environment for your life together to flourish, such as buying things for your home together, revising your finances to make life goals and plans together more viable, setting budgets to achieve milestones together... as well as the literal physical aspects of valuables, so using your resources towards nourishment (food, shelter, clothing and health). Things that will ensure your relationship lasts and endures through hardships and tribulations. In the 2H of values, Synastry could indicate the relationship itself becoming your prized possession that you take care of. All the Earth houses are about caring for things, just in different ways.)

Another poorly explored aspect of the 2H is values in the moral, spiritual and emotional sense. It's WORTH. Both the causes you find worthy as well as your self-worth. A 2H love placement or Synastry can and will directly affect that. Even if you do happen to be dealing with financial/material things too, that can affect your self-worth directly.

(e.g.: say you are married to someone who is constantly in debt, or say your spouse is the breadwinner of the household and you depend on them financially. That can really take a toll on your self-worth. It can bring feelings of poor self-esteem, can you make you feel undervalued, inadequate, make you feel like a burden, or make you feel incapable of caring for yourself. It can strike your self-confidence and make you VALUE yourself less. Or the opposite. Your spouse may open you up to new possibilities of making money, which in turn gets you into a new passion project that you succeed in and that can make you feel like a worthy person, make you believe in yourself, make you feel important and valuable.)

I would argue that most often, it's the 8H Synastry that will really have your partner's materials affecting you, because the 2H is the house of your PERSONAL gains, while the 8H is the house of OTHERS' gains and possessions. Most often, the biggest impact I'd say 2H love placements have will be dealing with self-worth, self-confidence, shared values and morals, feelings of belonging and acceptance.

General Things ✨

What I see most often is that positive and negative outcomes tend to happen simultaneously. It's not all doom and gloom, but it's also not all sunshine and rainbows all the time. Sometimes it's great, sometimes it's not so great, and those ups and downs come and go. That's just life. Both are there to be worked with, worked for, or worked through. At the end of the day, astrology will not mandate your life events, and you have to always be learning from your life, and working on yourself and the things that matter to you. Astrology is just a guiding light to identify possible themes to be mindful of.

**************************************************

That's it! Thank you if you've read it this far! I might have come off a bit harsh (I hope I haven't), but I promise I'm nice lol.

My whole goal is to try to discuss astrology in as realistically as possible, but while making it clear that any possible outcome is plausible. If most times all you hear are fantastic stereotypical descriptions of placements, such as 7H, the not so great ways in which it can play out will be explored here to help people navigate them. If all you hear are bad things about a house, then I'll try to show the positive ways in which it can come out.

The whole point is to try to bring a wide range of notions to these descriptions, together with the information that is already out there and available by many other creators.

At the end of the day, remember this is all POSSIBILITIES. Your personal life has to be analysed to know what's gonna ensue. And don't be discouraged, because the truth is that positive and negative effects tend to happen together for your best.

Hope you have a good day when you find this!

MASTERLIST

[v7lgar]

What do you think rosestarkillerchasers dynamics are with eachother?

hmmm lemme think. this might get a little bit long.

i wanna start with jarty obvsly. i see some resemblances w rosekiller in a way where two pairs are twin flames. somehow rosekiller make it work but jarty ends up being sickeningly too tangled up and since they're cut from the same cloth it almost impossible for them to set their boundaries w each other. after all james isn't like evan, he doesn't know when to stop when someone isn't there to remind him that he should stop and rest. barty does the opposite, he encourages and pushes his boundaries and he gets off of to it because james is a man with ethics but he just can't say no when it comes to barty? when they are with each other it's like everything around them catches fire and it's probably gonna devour them both.

for evanreg, evan is usually tame w him which is a surprise bcuz w barty he is as batshit crazy as barty but regulus doesn't see that side of them when they're alone, not often at least. barty is the only one who can make evan feel like that. regulus is more like when evan wants to withdrawn regulus is just there with his book, he wants to be there when evan is fighting his demons and he wants to caress his hair whilst. he is playful w reg and sometimes reg can see how much mischieve is in evan's eyes but he doesn't try to dig in and bring to the surface. he is ok w how things are.

i'm not gonna talk abt rosekiller or jegulus bcuz it's kind of obvious so i'm skipping to rosestarchaserkiller directly.

reg is familiar w rosekiller AND jarty so seeing evan w james was a bit wild in his experiences but i'd rather talk abt evan and james later in a diff post. don't ask me why there is no reason lmao.

so, rosestarchaserkiller. imo they cancel each other out. when the four are inside a room and no one else, they either making out or evan is sitting on the edge of the bed whereas regulus is sitting on the floor w crossed legs. he is letting evan braid his hair into little braids as james lays his head on his lap, he is rubbing james' temples a because his head is hurting and barty is sketching the three of them and james is resting his foot on his nap too. form time to time he is giving james' feet a firm massage but he is mostly sketching and it's quiete. idk atp they're cozying like this.

[glacierruler]

My face and throat feel like I've been crying all day, but I haven't even shed a tear. I think my allergies are starting to act up-

[astronomalyy]

Thinking about the lifespans of Dungeon Meshi elves... The fact that they're completely unnatural alters my brain chemistry, because you can tell just how haphazardly the demon implemented their wish. They live five times the length of tall-men, so they age at a fifth of their rate. It's simple maths and the implications are terrifying. No wonder their birth rate and population are declining - their early development is so slow that at the age of two, they're still unable to stand.

They don't reach adulthood until their eighties. What does the infant mortality look like? How many elves succumb to illness or injury before they're fully mature? It only takes one accident to lose the child you've been raising for decades - and could you bring yourself to care for another? Add to that the implication elf culture has no idea how to process grief... just look at the way the Canaries treat Rin after the death of her parents. They're callous and insensitive and detached - part of that's racism, but there's also an element of pure cold ignorance. They don't even recognise the emotion on her face.

And that's just scratching the surface... does elven memory accommodate their extended lifespan? Once you reach two hundred or so, do the years start blurring together? Kabru mentions that their temporal awareness is remarkably poor.

Two years feel like a few months. Their lives are longer but not fuller. They're older but not wiser than the short-lived races, and most refuse to understand this. Those that do grasp it are interesting - namely Otta, who's ostracised for pursuing half-foot women.

A 30-year old elf is a young child; a 30-year old half-foot has entered middle age. Otta is in the equivalent of her late twenties. She knows that her elven lifespan makes her no more mature than a half-foot - but she also acknowledges that it creates a rift between herself and her partners, and not just in the eyes of society. 'She dumps them as soon as they pass 30', but probably not for the reasons Lycion assumes. For this to be a pattern, decades must have passed - it's possible Otta doesn't want to watch them die as she herself barely ages. No doubt some of her previous lovers have already passed away. In the end, all living 400 years accomplishes is leaving them out of sync with the rest of humanity.

Marcille's perhaps the best example. As a half-elf, she's got 95% of her life ahead and the thought terrifies her. She's going to lose everyone she loves, over and over and over again, and this cycle has barely even started. She runs at a different pace. This context adds so much to her dynamic with Falin in earlier chapters.

Marcille loves her! She's scared for her! Maybe even of her! She's grown attached to a short-lived girl who she met as a kid when Marcille was a teaching assistant! Biologically and developmentally, they're the same age, but chronologically she's twice as old as Falin! Considering what happened to her mother, is history repeating itself? Her feelings towards Falin are tangled and messy and fascinating. They're also more than a little homoerotic, which makes Marcille's infantilization of her friend all the more interesting. It feels like her way of resolving their power imbalance, of remaining a responsible (former!) authority figure... but it's also a coping mechanism. She's frightened by the ways Falin is maturing and changing - aging - and keeping her mental image of her friend as young as possible is her way of denying the march of time that's destined to sever their bond.

Marcille's dream of lifespan extension would remove the need for this obfuscation, render them equal... only, they already are! This desire is imposed onto Falin, but it's primarily for Marcille's benefit. Watching her fight for a world nobody wants, for reasons both selfish and altruistic... it's as tragic as it is understandable. I love this manga.

[fxrheisenn]

Andrus Laansalu talked about making Disco Elysium at EKA (Estonian Academy of Arts)

"Initially, the church wasn't a focal point. There were certain characters that needed to visit this location, and I asked, "Seriously, what do we have in our church?" The others replied, "Nothing at all. Our church is completely bare—just a wheel, really. It's quite basic."

That's when I decided to unleash my creativity in the design. For example, they chose to install a glass structure at the top of the church to create a reflective surface. It was like placing an optical clock up there. Therefore, one of the most crucial aspects of designing the church was ensuring the lighting was just right to create the desired atmosphere."

"Let me show you an example of Baroque architecture, which is rich in detail. We're also designing the interior of the church based on large cathedrals. However, the foundation you use might not yield the expected results, because the church itself doesn't require such intricate details. Sometimes, it's about simplifying the design."

"I used Articy for the initial scriptwriting of Disco Elysium. The image only represents a tiny fraction of the text and choice variables involved. This system was also the reason I eventually abandoned the project after a year of outlining the script and shifted my focus to becoming a sound designer. My mind struggled to keep up with the dynamic graphic rules, but fortunately, a more talented writer took over afterward."

"In terms of sound design, it's essential to develop different layers to bring out the charm of the church as a cohesive space. Although this represents only a small portion of the overall design, each layer actually requires a significant amount of time to compose the whole....... Whenever there's a shift or a change due to the dialogue itself, you need to adjust the background sounds. Each time you modify the details in the dialogue, I have to refine the background audio, ensuring that these elements build upon each other like an intricate layer of work."

"It's funny how many scenes involve characters getting smacked in the face. My job was to recreate those, so I locked myself in the bathroom with a recorder and hit my forehead until it turned red.

As a sound designer, I really dig those unsettling, drill-like sounds. So, I mixed in creepy lectures, metal scraping, moans, and cries of pain—because I just love that stuff! (laughs)

Players will be moving through all kinds of areas, so it's super important to make the sound transitions feel natural, trying to create a more immersive vibe in certain spaces.

With all the scenes featuring big cranes, you can hear them from far away, and I wanted to capture that eerie ringing in your ears. That's going to be a thing throughout most of the game. I've found ways to really mess with players while they're playing!"

"I've come across a lot of old objects (like phones and radios) that I needed to perfectly replicate the sounds. I started to become a bit of a hoarder, buying up different models of old phones whenever I found one to add to my collection. The sound effects I can simulate from them are really impressive."

"Some of the devices don't actually exist in real life—just a mix of architecture and tech. When I need to create sound effects, I first look for something similar that exists in our world, then I try to simulate what the sound and appearance of that thing might have been like a century ago.

Towards the end of the game, there's a character carrying a fuel canister. We needed the sound of the canister, so we dug one up from our garage—it had been sitting there since it was five! I realized this would make the sound perfect. So, it had been there for 50 years, and after 40 years, it finally found its purpose.

In some places, I needed unique sound waves, and recreating them was a real headache until one day I happened to walk by a swimming pool and stumbled upon an old wartime torpedo. You can rotate the torpedo's probe, and it slowly rises up, like a proud zombie head. The sounds it made were exactly what I needed!"

🙋How did you manage to get funding?

"Well, since we're in Estonia, you just need to know a wealthy person. You don't need five people—just two who can network, hang out together, and convince them to keep investing! (laughs) Back then, we constantly ran out of money and would tell them, 'Oops, looks like we spent it all! Can you invest a bit more?' That's how we made it through!"

🙋How did you all come together to make the game?

"Luck. It usually doesn't happen this way, and that's the key difference. It has to be. If not, you couldn't create a game of this scale - well, I mean in terms of budget. But creatively, Estonia definitely has writers and artists who can pull it off. With such a small population, there are a lot of quirky folks who are good friends. We were really lucky, though - lots of fortunate circumstances came together. It brought the right people together, allowing those talented fools to collaborate with us. They had experience but hadn't tackled projects of this magnitude before. So yeah, luck is pretty important!"

Lecture experience shared by 白兔YIYANG SUN on 小红书, reposted & translated by me with her permission.

[feyascorner]

Okay perhaps this sounds odd but imagine Astarion starts to disassociate while intimate with Tav and so he uses their established safe word, only to be bewildered when Tav actually listens to him and stops and asks if he’s okay and tries to comfort him because nobody has cared that much before 😢

OH GODS WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME (i love it) warning for suggestive content :)

For as long as Astarion's been genuinely intimate with you, for no other reasons but simply because of the affection the two of you hold for one another, he has always been in control.

It soothes him, in a way, to be on top. And as much as he enjoys watching you come undone beneath him, there's a more frustrating reason behind why he always feels the need to be the one to push you down onto whatever surface he deems decent enough at the time. From above you, he can see every little twitch in your body, every shift in your expression, and most of all, he can control what's happening, unlike his centuries spent as a seductive tool for Cazador's own needs.

He knows you're not like those fools. He knows you're different, and you're special to him. But the gnawing voice in the back of his head always forces him to pull you in, to hold you closer, to make love to you.

It's fucked up in so many ways.

"I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

But when you look up at him with those imploring, loving eyes, the voice seems to go quiet. He swallows the dryness of his throat, unable to think of anything but how wonderful your touch feels on his skin, and he thinks he could drown in this forever. He's putty in your hands, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Well? Don't be a tease just standing there, darling."

In what feels like minutes, he's a mess. He's making sounds he shouldn't be making, fingertips digging into your hips as if they're the anchors keeping him from finishing too early. He breathes heavily into the crook of your neck, groaning when you caress the sharp tip of his ear between your fingers.

The only thing keeping him from spilling is the impending embarrassment he'd feel for doing so this early on in the night.

Then, everything stops.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper.

They're only words. They're not ones he's heard little of---in fact, he's heard it too much in the past two hundred years. In an instant, memories of the nights he spent under strangers, forced to shove his mind into its darkest corners just to get through their own pleasures, flood his consciousness. The sickening taste in his mouth afterward, and the need to rub his skin till it goes raw were not uncommon. It was routine. A sick part of his life that he'd rather forget.

You don't mean it the same way they did. They only said things like that because that's all they could say. They didn't know him as anything but the husk of a body he resided in. He knows you are saying the words to him. Not to his body but to the very person he is.

But the word comes spilling out his mouth, and immediately, you freeze.

You actually stopped.

Of course, you would. You're you.

"Are you okay? Did I do something?" you reach to cup either of his cheeks, and he stares at you as if you're a star that's fallen from the sky. He blinks, slowly.

"I don't know, I just---" he searches for words. "--you haven't done anything wrong, darling."

You wait for him to finish patiently. Gods, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve you.

"I only remembered something I'd rather not," he plasters a crooked grin on his face. "It's quite alright. We can continue now if I haven't ruined the mood."

You pull away from him, and he fears you'll leave.

Moments later, you return with a glass of water. Wordlessly, you hand it to him, and he only stares at it, confused beyond belief. Only once he notices the way you gesture to the glass does he drink it, and you finally climb back into bed, lying down beside him.

"Come here," you open your arm, motioning him to come closer.

"Darling, as much as I'm all for experimenting, that's a strange position to have sex in."

You smile, shaking your head. You don't explain any further, only continuing to hold out your arm.

Hesitant though curious, he slowly lies down beside you, his head just above your chest and slotted between the space below your chin. With gentle hands, you pull him closer and toss the blanket over both of your bodies.

It's warm. Strange, but warm.

"You don't have to wear a mask with me," you whisper.

His eyes grow wide, and his chest stills. He doesn't have many tears left after 239 years, but there's an unfamiliar squeeze in his chest that tells him if he were still 39 and alive, he might have. Astarion wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into where he can hear the steady beating of your heart.

Later, when your eyes begin to droop, he mumbles.

"Tell me I'm beautiful again."

"You're beautiful," you say softly. "With or without your pretty face."

You might be imagining it, but you feel him smile against your skin.

[luna0713hunter]

Lover,Please stay

CEO!Sukuna is a big shot,every women and men's dream. Sometimes you wonder why he settled for someone like you.

The wine tastes bitter on your tongue as you take your first sip; wincing slightly. You've never been a fan of drinking,but when your rich boyfriend invites you out for some, who're you to say no? So you suck it up,and try to swing the drink around your glass instead of actually drinking it.

And it doesn't help that the liquor is bringing out all your doubts you've been having recently.

Instead,you try to focus on the man beside you; Sukuna is busy downing his third whiskey cause he's an absolute freak when it comes to drinking. His pink hair is out of its usually neat shape, probably because of the rough day he had at work; and you watch with careful eyes as he reaches his nibble fingers toward his tie and loses it while he throws back the last of his drink.

"you're staring."

You hum absentmindedly; hating how lightweight you are unlike your boyfriend. You've barely had a few sips for god's sake.

"and what if i am?"

But now, you're staring at the reddish liquid in your glass; your thoughts running wild in your mind. Because even if you want to; even if you desperately wish to, you cant ignore the whispers and giggles you hear from the tables near you. You cant pretend to not see the lustful gazes of the women all around you as soon as your boyfriend had stepped inside the bar.

And you surely cant not hear them giggling among themselves with nothing but vemon in their tone.

"oh my gosh,look at that hottie!!"

"hold on- is that...his partner?!"

"that cant be- i mean- look at HIM!"

"i know right?maybe he's just doing it out of pity or something?"

And you dont know if its the alcohol, or you own mind, but suddenly the bar feels too suffocating.

Too crowded. Too loud.

And its not really your fault; you've been having a shitty week, and you just wished to spend some quality time with you boyfriend. You didn't want to spend your Saturday night in a shitty bar,with some rich ass girls talking shit about you and your relationship.

And its the last straw when you hear their next words.

"oh screw it; I'm gonna hit on him! I'm sure he'd bored out his mind and need a break from his lame ass partner!"

"obviously they're not doing well; they haven't talked much since they walked in!"

So without a word,you suddenly stand up from your sit; slamming you glass hard on the wooden surface of the bar. Sukuna immediately looks your way, lips parting to say something, but you dont wait to hear what it is.

You just grab your purse and rush out of the door, almost stumbling to tables on your way out.

You think they might be laughing at you, but honestly you dont care. You just need some fresh air to cool your head.

And to stop the tears from falling on your burning cheeks.

You turn sharply in the alley just next to the bar; pressing your back to the cold wall behind as you slide down on the ground below. You hug your knees close to your chest as the first sob breaks through your lips.

God,you hate crying; specially because of what others say.

And you know; you know Sukuna's way out of your league. You know a hotshot like him can have anyone he wants,yet he settles for someone like you. You know all this, but that doesn't make it easier to hear it from others.

When you hear heavy footsteps inside the alley,you immensely start to brush your cheeks and eyes harshly; but your hands are immediately stopped midway by a pair of rough ones grabbing onto your wrists.

When you look up through teary eyes,Sukuna sighs at the sight of your red rimmed eyes and blushed cheeks.

"you're such a lightweight. How much did you even drink?"

"it's not because of the drink," you mumble, pulling at your hands to which Sukuna doesn't let you, "i didnt even finish my wine."

"then why are you crying,huh?" He sighs again, raising rough fingers to brush your tears away with such care that has you tearing up again. Sukuna 'tsks' and wipes your cheeks once more, ”tell me what's wrong."

You bury your face in your knees to avoid looking at him.

"you must've heard what those women said,Ryo. Dont play dumb."

"so what?"

You snap you head up.

"so what?! doesn't that bother you??"

Sukuna scoffs, shifting slightly. His dark eyes shine even in the barely lit alleyway,and you swallow upon seeing the look on his face.

He looks utterly pissed.

"why the fuck would it bother me what a bunch of good for nothing losers say?" He hold your chin and lowers his face until you can feel the his hot breath on your lips, "nothing in this world matters. Nothing. Except you,me,and us."

When your eyes water again,Sukuna sighs presses his forehead against yours.

"the world's gonna talk shit anyways; whether we like it or not. And i dont give a shit what other's think, because nothing will change the fact that i love you."

When you look up at him with wide, bleary eyes,Sukuna scoffs and pinches your cheek rather roughly.

"dont give me that look; I've said it before."

"Well!" You grumbled through pinched cheek, "you dont say it enough!"

An evil smirk makes way on his pink lips,and your face heats up when his fingers dance across your hips.

"then," you shiver as he pushes at the hem of your dress; taking hold on your upper thigh with a dangerous glint in his eyes, "guess I'll have to show it to you, don't you think doll?"

Your eyes flutter close when he finally presses his lips to yours; and right there and then,you know Sukuna never lies about loving you. After all, he's been always a man to show his love through his actions rather than words.

[prokopetz]

In my own tabletop games I typically start with a particular sort of game-mechanical procedure to explore, then work backwards to figure out "okay, what sort of narrative framing do these procedures imply?", but when I read other people's stuff I have to confess that I love games that are so high concept they're barely playable.

To be clear, I don't necessarily mean games whose core conceit is anything particularly esoteric (insert obligatory sidebar about what the term "high concept" actually means here): I mean games which prioritise game-mechanical fidelity to that core conceit over all other considerations; i.e., games where textual clarity, structural coherence, even the basic physical practicality of enacting the procedures of play are all secondary to the Vibe.

Like, would I ever play Mist-Robed Gate as written? Absolutely not – but I feel strongly that a game whose text advises you to play it on a surface you don't mind putting holes in because the escalation procedures for player-versus-player conflict resolution involve stabbing your opponent's character sheet with a knife is something which needs to exist in the world. I once read a game whose mechanics at one point instruct you to go outside and search your neighbourhood for discarded bird feathers. Fantastic.

[rcmclachlan]

8x06 fix-it fic: Amnion

Buck doesn't bounce back from Tommy the way he did with all his other breakups for reasons he can't articulate or even look at. He thinks of how long it took him to recover from Abby, but even that felt different, because he'd had hope carrying him through most of it. He doesn't have that now.

The worst part is it's bringing everyone else down. It's starting to affect the job, and he can't take any more of Bobby's pity dinner invites or the kid gloves Eddie handles him with. Then one day, Chimney (in an attempt to lighten the mood) asks Buck if he's pregnant, and it awakens some primordial rage in Buck that he never knew he possessed and damn near rips off Chimney's head about it.

But once the blood levels in his adrenaline start rising and he calms down, he starts thinking about it. Before he knows it he's thinking about it day and night, and now that's starting to affect the job more than his heartbreak had been.

Then one night Maddie invites him over to watch trash TV and eat junk food until they can't feel feelings anymore, but instead of the patented Maddie Hug he's expecting, she hands him a First Response test stick the second he walks in the door.

Five minutes later, he comes out of the bathroom pale-faced and dripping tears because there are two lines in the test result window, and Maddie leads him over to the couch where they curl up and cry together. Just like the old days.

Maddie asks if he's going to tell Tommy, but there's no judgment in her voice, like she's behind him no matter what he decides, and Buck tries to make her laugh when he says, "How do you know it's his? I could've been living it up for the last month. New person almost every night. Exploring myself."

She just gives him a Look. Also patented.

Under the weight of her scrutiny, Buck thinks about Tommy's face before he left the loft that night and how ''Buck'' looked and sounded so wrong coming from him. Like the shape of it was so painful he could barely move his mouth around it.

Finally, he shakes his head. His eyes well up with more tears, which feels impossible, because the human body can't possibly produce this much liquid. He's going to drown them both. "I thought... I thought we had a future, Maddie. I really did. I guess I still get one... but only with part of him."

A couple of months pass and Buck's entire world shifts. The 118 have rallied around him in a way that almost feels like they're closing ranks to every other firehouse. Eddie becomes especially protective and devises a 5000-point care plan that makes him twitch if Buck so much as thinks about deviating from it, but he also keeps telling Buck that he needs to tell Tommy about the pregnancy.

"If only to get his family history," Eddie says reasonably, but there's something pleading in his voice every time, like there's so much more under the surface that he's trying to keep under wraps. Like there's more about this that he thinks Tommy should know.

Chimney's in the middle of explaining why he's stealing the cool uncle crown from Buck and sitting pretty on the throne when Buck asks him about it.

"Is there something about Tommy that no one's telling me?"

It trips Chimney up. Literally. He just barely catches himself from going headfirst into the kitchen counter.

Buck's heart starts pounding. "Chim, does he know?"

"No," Chimney says, firm and almost a little offended. "We promised you we wouldn't say anything. But Buck... you should tell him. You should talk to him."

Part of him wants to whip his phone out right then and there and dial Tommy's number. He could do what he did the first time: ask to meet somewhere and laugh about bad coffee and plead his case for a second chance. He could reach across the table for his hand, but this time, he'd stand up and walk over to Tommy and place it on his belly. "I don't care about firsts or lasts," he'd say. "I care about only's. And you're the only one I want."

But the other part of him, still licking its wounds, hormones in flux and forcing organs to shift and bend as it makes room for the thing he and Tommy made together, bares its teeth and snaps, "He made it very clear that he had no interest in hearing what I had to say."

Chimney never brings it up again.

Meanwhile, Hen goes a little overboard with forcing him to undergo random physicals—she pops out of the shadows twice a day to ambush him with the blood pressure machine, and he keeps threatening to avoid rooms that have doors—but he loves it. His body is a complete stranger to him for the first time in a long time, but the changes he's experiencing are interesting and he's having a blast cataloging every new one. He and Hen have a spreadsheet with like fifty tabs, and she helps him navigate every test his actual OBGYN sets him up for.

He's over her house at least once a week, although pregnancy talk at the dinner table is verboten.

"If one of you says the word 'amniocentesis' one more time, I will start a food fight," Karen had said, finally putting her foot down. Across the table, Denny perked up.

As much as he hesitates to even think the Q-word, it's a pretty quiet pregnancy. The cravings are kind of wild, though, and he goes most of his first trimester feeling like he's going to die if he can't eat rice krispie treats with cottage cheese. Every time Bobby sees him cracking open another container of Hood, it looks like he's seriously reconsidering sobriety.

But as incredible as they are about the pregnancy, they're all tiptoeing around the other elephant in the room: when Buck is going to stop working scenes. He and Bobby have a series of discussions that satisfies neither of them and resolves nothing, and it builds to a big blow-out that ends when Bobby tearfully begs Buck to stop risking his own life and the life of Bobby's grandkid.

After that, it's like some stone thing in him dissolves into sand and he finally eases back a bit in his fifth month. He doesn't put up a fight when Bobby orders him to only handle the winch or stick with hose duty, and if he stays a little closer to the engine because he gets winded so easily these days, no one comments on it.

In his sixth month, the inevitable happens: there's a call out at Palos Verdes and it's all hands on deck, which means the 217 is there too. At first he thinks he might make it through without running into Tommy at all, but he turns a corner and—there he is. Smudged with mud and looking like a drowned rat because of the downpours, but in his turnouts he's big and capable and, for a second, he's walking into First Presbyterian and apologizing for missing the ceremony.

But the memory is easily wrestled back into the past the second Tommy's gaze fixes on Buck's belly.

Buck wants to stage a retreat that would make the Allies at Dunkirk stand up and applaud. He wants to throw his arms open so Tommy can get a better look at it, say something cool and mean, like, "Did you know that INNOTEX makes turnouts for carriers these days? Pretty progressive of them, if you ask me."

He wants to be weak and ask if Tommy will spare him a hug. Just one. Nothing greedy. Just—a moment to soak in his warmth, to inhale the smell of his skin. Enough to carry him through the rest of it.

But he does none of that. He inhales through his nose, lifts his chin, and says, "Firefighter Kinard."

At that, Tommy smiles, and it's completely awful. There's no joy in it. Not even amusement. He looks like he wants to be sick, and Buck feels like a monster.

But Tommy swallows and says, earnest as anything, "Congratulations. I-I knew you'd find it. I never doubted for a second that you'd find the person who'd be your last."

Even as he says it, Tommy's face does something indescribable, but it rips through Buck's chest and shatters his ribs, tearing through pericardial layers until it scores the vulnerable muscle of his heart. It's so shocking that it almost knocks the truth right out of Buck's mouth.

Someone comes over the radio and requests all available first responders with flight experience to report to the B-zone, and Tommy straightens up and locks whatever it was away.

With an unsteady hand, he tips an invisible hat to Buck and says wryly, "Firefighter Buckley," before jogging away.

And Buck stands there like an idiot watching him go. It's that night all over again. It's Buck instead of Evan.

"See you around," he whispers, and then runs back to his post in the A-zone.

+

Tommy gets the call when he's halfway through a burrito foisted upon him by Dana, who had taken one look at him and said, "You look like a flood victim. Eat something before I get HR involved."

He'd taken a mutinous bite and couldn't argue with her. Months later and it still felt like he'd watched everything he loved wash away with a tide he couldn't fight. Except he'd sent the tide himself. He had no business feeling like this.

But they send him to the site of a car accident where a pregnant driver had been T-boned by some asshole who ran the red light, and the RA unit called to the scene didn't have the right equipment to assess the fetus. But the victim's belly was hard enough to warrant a med evac.

By the time Dana gets the victim loaded on the backboard and inside, Tommy's already on with both First Presbyterian and LA General to see whose neonatal surgery team is available.

The door on Tommy's side slides open and Tommy turns in his seat to ask what the hell Dana's doing over there, but it's Hen who's pulling herself inside.

His stomach clenches with dread. "Hen?"

"I'm riding with you," she shouts, taking the headset that Dana gives her.

He looks just beyond her and wishes he'd had the presence of mind to listen to the manifest when Dana had read it aloud to him, because Evan Buckley is strapped to the gurney and looks like he's on a completely different planet.

"Hen." Tommy can't hear him say her name, but he sees Evan's mouth shape the word. Evan reaches clumsily out for her with one hand while pressing the other to his belly.

Hen murmurs something to him that the comms can't pick up, and Tommy wonders if they've notified Maddie, if they've notified the father, whoever they are. If they're already at the hospital waiting for them. If Tommy will have to see them, talk to them face to face.

Tommy bites the inside of his cheek until he feels the hot wash of blood over his tongue, then forces everything down to join the burrito from earlier that really wants to make a reappearance. It isn't his right to know any of it. That went out with the tide, too.

He locks it down tight enough that he gets them into the air so easily they might be a feather on the wind, then he heads in the direction of First Presbyterian. The real start of it all.

They're maybe halfway across the city when Evan shouts, desperation and fear carrying his voice over the rotors, the words sliding together, "Hen, check Nora! Y-Y'need to ch—"

"Nora's fine, Buck," Hen says, her voice clear as a bell in Tommy's ear.

Staring at a skyline he can't see, Tommy says, "'Nora'? Was someone else in the car with him?"

When Hen comes over the comm, her voice is as inescapable as a flood. "Nora's what he decided on for the baby. It's her name."

Tommy's hand tightens on the cyclic so the way it starts shaking won't be so obvious. "Nora was my grandmother's name."

He'd told Buck about the woman who was basically the only family he could stand, who was responsible for not letting him become his piece of shit father, who accepted him when no one else would. She'd meant the world to him. She'd been the world to him. And for Evan to give his kid her name—

Realization hits like a levy breaking, and he turns to look wide-eyed over his shoulder at Hen, because it can't—he couldn't be—

"Patient, male, 33, prenatal course complicated at 8 months gestation," Dispatch had said.

The timeline is right.

Hen stares right back, as good of a confirmation that he could get outside of a DNA test.

Without breaking her gaze, Tommy tells Dana to take over. She gives him an unreadable look but says nothing except, "Copy that," and smoothly resumes their journey while he squeezes into the back. There's hardly any room next to the gurney and his knees are compressing his lungs, but he takes Evan's' hand and stares blankly at the shiner forming around his right eye until Hen breaks the silence.

Why didn't you tell me, he wants to demand, but he knows that if he so much as opens his mouth, he's going to start screaming until someone sedates him.

"For the record," she says, "I hate what you did. I hate what you took from him. But I understand why you did it."

Tommy rolls his lips inward and wants to suffocate himself to death. She understands? Does she? Does she know a life can be obliterated in the span of a minute? Does she know what it is to live a half life, to walk through the world like a five-year old drew a scribble on a blank sheet of paper that was supposed to be a person?

Does she know what Evan looks like when his joy is sucked away? Because Tommy does. She hates what he did? No one hates what he did more than him. No one hates him more than him.

Shakily, he lifts his other hand and touches the tips of his fingers to Evan's birthmark, which used to know the touch of his lips so well that Evan would joke that it was actually in the shape of Tommy's mouth print. Like a brand.

He forces himself to inhale. It seems impossible that Evan's here, carrying their child, their Nora. Evan used to say the lightning strike gave him super powers, made him invincible, and Tommy's ashamed to admit that he almost believed him. It seemed like nothing could ever bring Evan Buckley down, but here he is in Tommy's sky, halfway to Heaven already.

He glances at the LifePAK—where Evan's life has been concentrated into a series of lines and numbers, the reading strong despite everything—and then looks back at Evan, who is still the most beautiful man Tommy has ever seen even now.

"Evan," he chokes out.

There's no answer. At least not from Evan.

Across from him, Hen breathes through her nose and then quietly says, "I'm only going to say this once, Tommy, so I hope you're listening. If you can't trust him to know what his own heart wants, then this flight will never have happened. When he wakes up, you will not have been here. I'll change the manifest myself."

Tommy closes his eyes. Something hot spills down his cheeks.

"I know things haven't been all sunshine and roses for you. Lucy's said you've basically shut down since it ended. I know you're hurting just as much as Buck is... which is why I'm telling you: be sure. He's going to have enough on his plate without worrying about whether or not you're going to swan out of his life again. You need to be sure, Tommy."

Tommy doesn't say anything, but he opens his eyes and holds her gaze without flinching, and he tightens his hold on Evan's hand.

The rest of the flight passes in the kind of silence that feels like a cyst was lanced. Or maybe a boil, as it were.

+

Buck wakes up in stages to find he's in a hospital bed, and when he puts a hand on his belly it's smaller and almost deflated beneath his palm. He is just starting to hyperventilate when suddenly Tommy's there, murmuring to him, "You're okay. Everything's okay, I promise, she's fine. She's fine. Look."

And Buck, heart racing, forces himself to breathe slowly while he follows Tommy's gaze down to the bundle in Tommy's arms. Then he stops breathing altogether.

"She's fine," Tommy says. "A little early, according to the doctor, but absolutely fine."

Buck collapses back to the bed and weeps in relief, because she's fine. She's here and she's fine and she's perfect. Tommy gently places her in Buck's arms before retreating to the chair next to the bed which has a dent in the vinyl in the shape of his ass.

But Buck is enraptured with Nora, who smacks her lips in her sleep, and he marvels aloud, "She has my mouth."

"Thank God for that," Tommy says with a laugh. "It'll help take the focus off my nose. Poor kid."

It hits Buck like lightning that Tommy is here. He's in this room and talking about Nora like—like he knows. And there are things Buck should probably be saying, like apologizing for not telling Tommy about her as soon as he found out, or asking why he's there at all, but the words are crowding in his mouth and he can't figure out which ones should go first.

Tommy's lips twitch in a smile that is awful to look at, like he completely understand Buck's struggle, but his voice is soft and even when he says, "I need you to know that it wasn't about you. Not you personally. It never was."

Buck stops trying to speak and just stares at him, because that is bullshit, and oh, he knows which words should come first, and he opens his mouth to release them into the wild but Tommy holds up a hand.

"I know," he says. "I was a coward and an asshole, and I'm more sorry than I can possibly say. I won't ever be able to make up for what I did. But I need you to know why I did it."

And, in fits and starts before he finally finds the thread, Tommy tells him about Jeremy.

After Tommy ended things with Abby and then finally came out, he dated around for a long time before he met Jeremy, who was brilliant and fun and new. Tommy was the first man Jeremy had ever been with, and Jeremy was the first person Tommy saw a future with. He'd been so sure about Jeremy. He'd believed that Jeremy was it.

Until, almost two years in, Jeremy ended it. He'd sat Tommy down and said kindly, cruelly, "You're amazing, Tom, but you're just the first. You can't be my last." And then he'd left Tommy completely shattered in the rearview.

"That night, when you asked me to move in... it was like I was watching him put on his coat all over again," Tommy says shakily. "But what I felt for you was lightyears beyond anything I felt for him. I'd fallen so hard for you that I knew if I had to watch you walk away I'd never get up again."

Buck stares at Tommy, eyes rimmed red, and says, "So instead you made me watch you walk away."

It must land like a fist because Tommy exhales sharply and hangs his head, bowing around the pain. He sits like that for a moment, absorbing it, before he lifts his head and nods. "Yeah. That's exactly what I did."

There are deep, dark circles under Tommy's eyes that speak of a hundred sleepless nights, and his body is sharper, leaner, trimmed entirely of anything soft. He's made entirely of angles. He's so unfairly hot. He's miserable to look at.

Buck swallows and murmurs, "You look like there's no love in your life, Tommy."

Sucking in a trembling breath, Tommy smiles weakly and sketches a shrug. It looks like the fatigued steel of his edges are starting to crack.

"I left all my love with you that night." His gaze darts down. "Among other things."

Buck looks down at Nora, who's sleeping the sleep of someone already exhausted by existence, or maybe just by her fathers' drama, and thinks that maybe he really has been carrying all his love plus Tommy's around. Because otherwise he has no idea how he's so full of it.

"She's absolutely perfect," Buck says, smiling dopily.

"She's... more than anything I could've ever dreamed of."

He looks up in time to see Tommy drop his gaze to the floor at the same time his shoulders lift and lock like they're bracing for a blow. And in a voice so thin it's barely a sound, Tommy says, "I know I don't have... any right to ask, but is there any... any chance I could be part of her life?"

The tears that have been languishing at the edges of Buck's eyes finally see an opportunity. He doesn't think he could've held them back any longer if he tried.

Mouth trembling, he whispers, "Just hers?"

At that, Tommy looks up, eyes wide, disbelief and hope chasing each other across his face like dogs. He jerks a little in his chair but he doesn't move. He doesn't move.

Buck stares at him, a tsunami pulling everything back from his shoreline, and bites out, "Thomas James Kinard, if you don't get over here and kiss me, I swear to Christ—"

But Tommy's out of the chair and at his bedside, cupping Buck's face and tenderly smearing a kiss over his open mouth, licking the relieved gasp right off Buck's tongue.

Between them, Nora makes a tiny noise, and Tommy startles away just enough that he can press the side of his head to Buck's and gaze down at her with a tremulous smile.

"She really is something, huh? Sorry about the nose, kiddo," he says softly.

Buck knocks their heads together and says, "I happen to love that nose, thanks. And like you said, my lips will help balance it out."

Huffing a laugh, Tommy kisses Buck's lips. And the side of his nose and the bolt of his jaw. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to Nora's little pink and blue hat.

"I'm sure if you are," Tommy murmurs, tilting his chin up so he can flash a brave smile up at Buck, who smiles back.

"I was always sure."

[oxymorayuri]

❞𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐬?❝

Headcanons/Scenarios with my favorite boys [ Ace | Kid | Law | Doffy ] Content » Imagine you are pregnant with their child! How will they react? How will they prepare? just cute things ;3 Warnings: In Law's story, we experience an unpleasant birth with a few feelings that could be triggering. NO PROOFREADING

A/N: Not really headcanons… Kind of a mix of HC and scenarios. They're sometimes shorter or longer lol. ^////^

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: all images are by vasan5555

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃. 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰

Telling him you're pregnant: You don't really tell him. lol.

You don't even know how to tell him. On the one hand, you know he'll be really happy, but on the other hand, you're afraid that it won't fit into his plans.

You sought advice from Ikkaku, but her words weren't really helpful. She suggested throwing a little surprise party because she's really happy for both of you, but you know that wouldn't be a good idea. Announcing to the whole crew that you're pregnant without Law knowing beforehand? Better not, that would overwhelm him.

You had already thought about just leaving the positive pregnancy test in the bathroom, but before you could, Law pulled you aside.

“Hey y/n-ya, are you okay? You've been acting weird lately.” You look around a little panicked, trying to think of an excuse.

“Weird? Ah no, it's probably just because… we haven't been on the surface for a long time… The air in the Polar Tang is getting a bit thin?” you mutter.

His gaze rests knowingly on you. He inhales deeply and rolls his eyes… he knows that something is wrong with you.

He gently grabs you by the shoulders and speaks in a calm voice that makes your heart flutter.

“Don't lie to me… There are clear signs, you know?” You look up a little anxiously without saying anything.

He groans a little. You're not usually so secretive… Now he has to do all the talking. He doesn't really like that, but it's about you after all. He tries to argue with facts he's noticed on you.

“You throw up quite often in the morning. At first I thought it was because you might have been drinking with the others, but then I saw for myself how you didn't take a sip of alcohol. You even refused when Shachi wanted to pour you a drink!” You get smaller and smaller under him as he states the obvious but Law is far from finished…

“According to my calculations, you should already be 6 weeks overdue with your period… Besides, I've seen you raiding the fridge at night, eating the strangest combinations. Cheese and chocolate, are you okay?” - “You stalker!” You're blushing… When you saw those two things, you just had to try them together…

The tears started to fill your eyes when he asked you if you were pregnant. With a small nod, you agreed to his assumption and Law wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumb.

“I didn't know how to say it and I didn't know what you were going to say… I was scared, Law. You have your plans and…” Your words spilled out a little hysterically and without hesitation he took you in his arms. With his hand on the back of your head, he tried to calm you down with a few gentle strokes while you sniffed in his tight embrace.

“pshhh. It's okay y/n…” His soft voice against your ear calmed you down and as your breathing relaxed he looked firmly into your watery eyes.

“Plans change sometimes and I'm ready for any adventure.” He smirks at you with a sly expression.

His behavior / During pregnancy: Well, let's say he has 'studied' all the books about pregnancy.

You will spend most of your time with the Polar Tang underwater, as Law finds this safest while you are pregnant. However, he is aware of the importance of fresh air and sunshine, so you are regularly on the surface to breathe in the fresh ocean breeze and feel the sun on your skin. You're more than happy to be pregnant because normally you don't surface that often…

-

As your partner and doctor, he personally ensures that you have a balanced diet. He has even asked Sanji for advice. It was only a small call with the Den Den Mushi, but Law doesn't like Sanji very much, as he always fawns over you without any shame. Law knows which ingredients are nutritious but are they tasty? That's where Sanji is a big help.

Law passed on Sanji's greetings to you while you were reading a book on the sofa. You looked after him in surprise as he sat at his desk.

“Um, thanks… Sanji? How come you're on the phone with him?” You know what Law thinks of him. In his eyes, he's a perverted womanizer.

he froze a little when he realized that he had unintentionally told you that he was in contact with Sanji. But now it's too late to talk his way out of it.

“You know, I tried a few dishes that are supposed to give you strength, but they were awful… so I called Black Leg-ya…” He scratches the back of his head as he tries to avoid your gaze.

Belly round, you get up to walk over to Law and rest a hand on his shoulder. Law leans back a little as he looks you in the face. His cheeks turn a soft shade of pink and he makes room for you to sit on his lap.

Without saying much, you thank him and give him a loving kiss on the lips.

“Thank you for always being so thoughtful, Law.”

-

You are freed from your daily chores on the Polar Tang, but sometimes you get so bored that you find yourself doing little chores like washing and hanging up the laundry. No big deal, you think to yourself, but Law sees it quite differently.

“But babe, I'm so bored! It's just laundry…” you pout.

“If you're bored, then do something else, but not housework.” - “How about spending a bit more time with me?” You put your hands on your hips. You're the only one on the ship who has nothing to do while the others are busy and you can't keep them from working all the time…

Law wanted to say something but decided to close his mouth to think.

“Yeah, you know what? You're right. Meet me in the library at noon, I've got an idea.” Determined, Law set off, leaving you dumbfounded. You were expecting a little excuse, but not this. Law just has a few things to do and then he'll make time for you.

You wait for him in the library, a little excited, wondering what Law has prepared.

With a pile of books, he came into the shared library right on time at 12 o'clock and took a seat next to you on the huge sofa.

His idea was to read books with you that you had both bought for the child and so it became routine for you to read the books to each other every day. It was a lot of fun and you had a great time practicing your silly voices and matching it to the story. You are sure that your child will love it when you read to him or her.

Birth/when the baby is around: The birth is turbulent but Law is the perfect man by your side.

He wants to help bring the baby into the world but you are STRICTLY against it! You never want that in your life. He may be a doctor himself, but that's just not for you.

It took a while, but you managed to agree that a doctor from the city would come to you on the ship. A week before your due date, you docked in front of a small island with a peaceful town.

The mood on the entire ship became more and more restless from day to day, because your child wasn't making a move. You're long past the due date and even Law is starting to worry, but you're not making it any easier for him either, because you're refusing any help from Law.

The day you went into labor, the whole ship was on full alert. Bepo, Shachi and Penguin rushed into town to get the doctor on the ship while Law held your hand and did breathing exercises with you.

The birth was slow and you felt like days had passed, the pain was so numbing. Slightly distressed, the doctor began to change the preparations as it turns out your baby hasn't fully rotated yet.

“We have to prepare the operating room for a C-section!” - “C-section???!” Although you can barely hear because of the pain, you have clearly understood 'that'.

“I have to perform a scan while we move to the operating room…”

Things are moving way too fast for you as everyone around you rushes to get your bed and the ultrasound machines ready to head to the operating room.

Law doesn't even leave your side as you scurry down the corridor.

“The umbilical cord has wrapped around your son's neck!” Said the doctor. Desperation spreads through you, you can't relax and are afraid that you will push your son further out of you and strangle him. Wait a minute, a boy? You didn't even know the gender yet…

“Did you hear y/n? It's a boy! Let me make sure our boy gets out of you safely.” the tears run down your cheek uncontrollably. Your emotions are dancing the tango, you are so happy to be bringing a little boy into the world, but you are still afraid of the umbilical cord.

“Please Law, get our Rosinante out of me!” You squint your eyes because you can't see anything through all your tears. Law freezes for a millisecond when he hears the name but quickly pulls himself together.

“Doctor, please move aside.” Somewhat taken aback, the slightly older doctor moved aside and made room for Law.

With the help of Law's devil fruit, he gently extracted your child from your womb and held the crying baby in his arms.

His eyes widened at the sight of the helpless baby and the feeling inside him was as overwhelming as it was beautiful.

You look at him with a weary expression and watch this precious moment until exhaustion overcomes you to the point where you have to close your eyes.

The atmosphere is still very tense and even though you are no longer aware of it, everyone is doing their best to take care of you and Rosinante.

When you open your eyes for the first time, you find yourself in a hospital bed. Your gaze wanders around the room and lands on your side, where Law is asleep holding your hand. The movement wakes him up and he quickly gets up to ask you about your well being. After some time, when Law was sure you were okay, he brought your little boy into the room.

The dark circles under his eyes are nothing compared to the bright smile on his face as he holds your boy in his arms.

“Look Rosinante, mommy is awake. You can finally meet your mother.” The way he looks down at Rosinante… This is how Law always looks at you, full of love. He gently places him in your arms and the little one immediately snuggles up to your chest.

He is so beautiful that it brings tears to your eyes. He has his hair, his wonderful raven black hair. His little eyelids are closed and he sleeps contentedly in your arms. In his mother's arms. In Law's eyes, there is no sight more beautiful than looking at the two of you. He's happier than ever.

“He has your eyes, y/n…” he whispers as he strokes your cheek with gentle fingers.

𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐠𝐚𝐬 𝐃. 𝐀𝐜𝐞

Telling him you're pregnant: You could scream! No wait a minute, that's exactly what you're doing! XD

Every now and then you take a pregnancy test to be on the safe side. Since you both do it like animals in heat and neither use condoms nor can you be trusted to take your pill regularly, it's better to pee on the strip every now and then.

You look impatiently at the screen of the pregnancy test… A child wouldn't actually be such a bad thing. You and Ace have been a couple for a long time and have an unshakeable bond. Even though you're pirates, you're sure that you can lead a carefree life.

You have good cards with the Whitebeard pirates on the Moby Dick and if things get too rough, you're sure that Whitebeard will find an island within his territory where you'll be safe.

It feels like an eternity as you sit on the lid of the toilet with the test still in your hand. You wonder how Ace will react...

Will he be happy? You bet he will! As you daydream, you notice out of the corner of your eye how a second strip appears on the display.

Your eyes widen. I'M PREGNANT!

You scream like crazy, and when I say crazy I mean so loud that everyone on the ship should hear it.

Tears of joy gather as you do a happy dance in the small bathroom.

All of a sudden the door opens with a bang and Ace looks down at you in panic. He must have thought something else had happened because of your loud scream. It almost sounded as if you had been stabbed. At least that's what he must have thought from the look on his face.

“Babe, WHAT happened?!" He scans your body to see if you've suffered any damage, but you're fine.

With a shrill voice, you throw your arms around his neck and hug him tightly. Ace is visibly confused about the situation. He saw that you were crying but you're acting overly happy.

“What's going on?” His voice is a soft laugh as he hugs you tightly and buries his face in your hair. You lean back a little to look him in the face.

“Ace you're going to be a father!!!” At first he doesn't seem to fully grasp what your words mean but as the realization kicks in his eyes widen.

“ARE YOU PREGNANT?!” he grabs you by the shoulders and shouts in your face.

“YEEEESSS!” you shout back as the tears well up in your eyes.

“Please don't mess with me, are we really going to be parents?” His voice cracks a little and you nod silently to him and show him the test you took.

“That's awesome! We have to celebrate!” Just as he was about to leave the bathroom, he stops abruptly and looks at you with a serious face.

“But you're not allowed to drink alcohol!” Even though you roll your eyes, you have to giggle.

“I'm aware of that, my darling.” You go up on your toes to kiss him on the cheek and gently squeeze his hand.

Before you share the happy news, you share a loving moment together and kiss before walking out.

His behavior / During pregnancy: You know he's going to be the dad of the year after how he treats you.

He has taken time off for the duration of your entire pregnancy, with the clear permission of Whitebeard, to be at your side whenever you need him.

You never ask for anything in particular, but he is actually quite attentive and if he sees you putting your feet up with a heavy moan and relaxing on the deck, he comes straight over to pamper you with a foot massage.

-

He once made the extra effort to go to a special island for over 2 days because there was fruit there that you had an extreme craving for.

The funny thing is that he got you so many that at some point you couldn't see them anymore. He had tried to get more creative to avoid wasting the fruits and so he woke you up every morning with a glass of freshly squeezed juice.

He had even tried his luck at baking, but that went terribly wrong… But you found the idea incredibly cute and that's how you found your shared hobby - baking!

Together you created the most delicious things from the leftover fruits and jokes quickly started going around that if you two should settle somewhere, you should definitely open a small bakery.

You don't think that's such a bad idea. A perfect plan B.

-

He is literally glued to your belly and loves to feel your child through your skin. He didn't just cry once, but actually every time he felt your little one kick.

“Oh wow y/n did you feel that?” with his cheek resting on your stomach, he looks excitedly up at your face. You run a hand through his black hair and giggle in response.

“Of course I can feel it, after all, the baby is in my belly.” A little red in the face, he cuddles you and wraps his arms around you.

“Hehe that's true, you're right. I'm just so excited.” - “Me too, Ace…”

Birth/when the baby is around: If one of you is panicking then it's definitely Ace.

You approached him with weak feet to tell him that your water had broken and he immediately jumped up in panic to dash to you.

He definitely didn't know what to do with himself and ran back and forth in a panic to pack some of your things.

You look at him in confusion, not understanding what he is packing all your things for…

“Ace… Ace, stop!” you reach for him as he rushes past you.

“Why are you packing these things, I'm going to give birth on the Moby Dick, remember?” Ace suddenly seemed to remember and dropped the suitcase, which was barely closed.

There were various things scattered on the floor that had fallen out of the suitcase. A short glance at the floor and you burst out laughing.

What on earth has he packed? A few things are halfway understandable, but why would you need a bikini now? Not to mention that you're only going to Marco's infirmary to give birth. If you need anything, then someone else will get it… After all, your room is only a few meters away.

He carefully carried you in his arms to the infirmary and luckily for you, the birth took place without any complications.

When Marco wanted to hand the baby over to Ace, Ace didn't want to hold your little one in his arms at first.

“Oh no, give it first y/n, she had all the hard work so she should be first.” Even though he wanted you to have it first, he gazed longingly after the baby as Marco placed it in your arms.

He sat down on a chair next to you and clasped his hands together, watching you with pure pride.

You can hardly believe it yourself, but you are overjoyed…

“Ace, we're parents now…”

-

Ace loves to play with the child, even changing diapers is no problem. He is already looking forward to running around the deck of the Moby Dick with your child.

-

He always has a few bottles filled with milk on his belt and with the help of his devil fruit he can heat them up. It's like he's wearing a belt with grenades, you know? :D He skillfully spins the bottle in his hand and warms it to the perfect temperature to feed your hungry baby. You don't have to say anything or rush to the child because Ace is a responsible dad and loves to look after the little one.

-

Your child is just as much a ray of sunshine as you are and has the wild features of Ace. A combination that is impossible to resist.

Ace is definitely the fun parent of the two of you. You can already see how difficult it will be for him to stand his ground later on.

𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐨

Telling him you're pregnant: He wants you to bear his child.

You don't need to 'confess' it to him because it's a planned child. You are actively trying to get pregnant and as active as you are in bed, it didn't take long for the pregnancy test to come back positive.

“Wonderful news my little dove… You should be rewarded. What do you say? What does my little dove want, huh?” He leans down to you and lifts your chin with his finger.

There's a slight blush on your cheeks because Doflamingo's voice always sounds so seductive, no matter what he says. For a moment, you think about what he said. You're still a little excited that you're carrying his child.

“fufufufu… Is there anybody home in that pretty little head of yours?” a crooked grin graces his lips as he flicks your forehead.

You quickly regain your composure but your face turns red.

“Ah, I'm sorry my love, I'm just really happy that I've lost my voice.”

His laughter rings deep through the room as he pulls you onto his lap.

When you came into his office, he knew exactly what kind of message you had for him because when he's working, even you can't disturb him unless he calls for you.

He lavishes your hand with soft kisses and travels along your arm with more kisses until he gets past your neck and to your mouth.

You enjoy his tender touch as if it were already the reward, but you know that Doflamingo wouldn't accept this, so you think about it while you kiss sensually.

His big hands run over your figure and find a hold on your ass. He interrupts your kiss and if you pay close attention you can guess where his eyes are behind those red sunglasses.

“Tell me my love, what would make you even happier, huh?”

His whisper tickles your lips a little and in the back of your mind you already have an idea of what you want the most.

“Doffy, I really want to go shopping with you and buy things for the baby…” - “Your wish is my command.”

His behavior / During pregnancy: Hardly any different than before, but you'll be even more pampered.

Doflamingo will provide you with all the necessary servants to look after your wellbeing, and when you go into the city, more bodyguards than usual will follow you wherever you go.

His remark is still stuck in your mind: “…After all, there are 2 people to protect now…” he said to you as you were baffled by the amount of guards.

-

Even if he has to work a lot as king, he will always find time for you. He likes to take you out, and with luxurious appointments at the spa or a private visit to a hot spring, he'll make sure you're always relaxed.

Princess treatment is nothing new to you but since you are pregnant you have at least one professional massage a day besides the other appointments you have for your own comfort.

Manicure, pedicure, hairdresser, face masks, aqua aerobics to relax your tired bones, you name it.

-

The chefs are warned that whenever you are hungry for whatever, they have to prepare your every wish. No matter how late.

You fancy a special dish from the South Blue? Doflamingo had brought someone specially for you who can prepare any specialty with brilliance. He shows you his love through acts of service.

Birth/when the baby is around: He is smitten with the little miracle you have created and is already filled with pride.

He won't be there at birth but he will be the first one you see when you open your eyes. Just when you are at your most vulnerable, he will leave it to no one but himself to protect you.

-

You never thought Doflamingo could be so loving to a baby, but when you thought about it, he was always good to the kids in the gang. From the outside it may look like he's only interested in the skills, but you know for a fact that he respects and loves each of them as a member of the family.

At first you were a bit worried because you gave birth to a girl. After all, you were supposed to give him an heir to the throne.

“My dearest, that you have given me a daughter who is just as beautiful as her mother is like a gift from the gods.” While a few servants took care of your sweet girl to give you a break, he made certain insinuations.

“And who says one child is enough for me?”

His fingers gently stroked your skin while you had brunch on a picnic blanket in the castle garden. You blush immediately because you know exactly what he's getting at.

Another child with Doffy? You look after your daughter as she plays happily wearing a little pink feather dress that resembles Doflamingo's cape.

You shyly confess to him that you would love to have more children from him and before you could really finish talking he took you in his arms, ordered the servant to continue looking after your daughter and whisked you away to your bedchamber.

-

Doflamingo actually loves to dress your child :3

You know… You, him and your daughter in matching clothes… You're always well dressed.

𝐄𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐊𝐢𝐝

Telling him you're pregnant: He thinks you're joking and laughs as he turns his back to you and continues fixing his metal arm.

“I'm sorry Kid but I'm serious. I'm pregnant!”

He turns around because of your serious yet trembling voice.

You're not entirely happy either. You'd like to be happy, but you and Kid? Is that such a good idea? You stroke your arm feeling a little insecure as you stand in his workshop like a lost mess.

“Pregnant women have no place on the Victoria Punk…” - “What's that supposed to mean? Are you kicking me off the crew?!” You interrupt him with a raised voice. Your face is already turning red, but not from anger. You try to suppress your tears.

He grits his teeth in annoyance and approaches you with a pulsating vein on his forehead.

“What the fuck y/n! NO. Of course not!” You should just let him finish before you imagine something stupid.

He grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you close so that your noses are touching.

His eyes are filled with rage. You are always too hasty with your assumptions…

You look a little startled, but you know he's no threat to you when he gets this close because his grip is still gentle... You immediately regret accusing him of something like that. You know he would never kick you out of the gang. You were just too emotional…

His behavior / During pregnancy: He is constantly thinking of ways to do something useful for you and the baby but you hardly notice any of that.

His behavior doesn't really change in front of you. He's still a short tempered dickhead and that often leads to problems between you, especially now that you're having such hormonal swings.

-

It can always be dangerous on the Victoria Punk and sometimes you'll have to fight in the middle of the open sea. If Kid isn't around then Killer definitely is, because you are not 'allowed' to lift a finger.

You found this quite annoying in the first few weeks, after all you are still able to move quite well and you love to jump into the fight with the others.

After your first argument regarding this, you went your separate ways in a rage. A very typical picture after an argument between you; Kid disappears into his workshop and you flee to the crow's nest. What follows is days of ignoring each other until one of you can't take it anymore. But this time Killer followed you.

Killer broke the silence between you by simply telling you that Kid had a valid reason why you shouldn't fight and that you should please let him finish his explanation without butting in. A little offended, you wanted to say something at first, but you drop your shoulder and close your mouth. Even if you're angry, Killer doesn't deserve to suffer your rage. Kid is the one your anger is directed at. Your silence is Killer's signal that he is free to speak.

Your angry face quickly changed to a tearful one. The reason is as simple as it is understandable and you curse at Kid in a sobbing voice.

“Why doesn't he fucking tell me like you just did!” Your masked friend shrugs. That's a question that even Kid himself might not be able to answer.

“I think he's pissed off why you don't just let him do it, like you don't trust his decisions and then he gets…” “…Furious.” you finish his sentence. That's what Kid is like, a hothead but your hothead.

“Yep. Furious.” - “Argh! My fucking goodness no! I just don't want to be a burden and join the fight!” You feel bad.

Kid knows that you don't have a round belly at the beginning of your pregnancy, but Killer told you in secret that he's been reading books about pregnancy. Kid can read? That's the first thing that surprises you and then the fact that he reads pregnancy books of all things!

Not even you thought about it and suddenly you feel like a bad mom. Kid is really worried about you because he has read that stress and physical activity are a risk no matter what stage you are in.

The same evening you two reconciled. You apologized to him and didn't question anything, because otherwise Killer would be in serious trouble. Since then, you've simply accepted your fate.

-

You made an unexpected discovery in his workshop... There was a rather large object 'hidden' in the room, covered up so that you could only make out a rectangular shape.

Kid never covers anything in his workshop, so you got curious and looked what was hidden under the big cloth. You could hardly believe your eyes as you rubbed them in disbelief.

There was a crib in front of you and you're pretty sure he built it. The frame is up for debate, as the crib is made entirely of metal and almost looks like a cage that is open at the top… The metal bars give you prison vibes but your heart melts at his efforts.

On closer inspection, it actually looks quite cute too. He's even made a mobile with small figurines that look like fish and sea kings.

You don't even notice how the door opens behind you as you spin the mobile.

“So you found it, huh?” Startled, you turn around with one hand on your chest. You were so immersed that you didn't hear Kid coming up behind you.

With tears streaming down your face, you throw your arms around Kid's neck.

“I LOVE IT!”

Kid is generally proud of his work but your words are like music to his ears and with a grin he returns your embrace.

-

“What are you doing y/n?” You jolt as you push the furniture around in your shared room. Still standing on the doorstep with his hand on the handle, Kid looks at you with a raised eyebrow. You were just about to push an armchair across the room and in the middle of your movement you stop and grin at him, somewhat caught off guard.

“Uh, I… I'm just making some space…” - “Space?” A little annoyed, you raise an eyebrow; he could help you rather than ask you weird questions, after all, you're heavily pregnant. You put your hands on your hips a little bitchily.

“Yes, space! Don't just stand there and start helping. I'll make room for the baby?” Kid grumbles and sits down on the armchair. Confused, you gesture to him what this is supposed to mean, that clearly isn't any help. Kid's behavior confuses you a little, because his attitude is so different than usual.

Somehow he looks 'thoughtful'… Normally, he would have grabbed the armchair with his metal arm and taken it to where you want it. Why is he sitting down and looking at you with that confusing expression?

You raise your eyebrows questioningly and wait for a reasonable explanation. Struggling to find the right words, he scratches his chin, with his eyes focused elsewhere.

What's wrong with him? He seems to be lost in his thoughts? You don't recognize that from him. He seems to be preoccupied with something, but instead of ranting out loud or speaking rashly, he sits in front of you almost calmly.

His gaze tends to avoid you as he stares absently into space and you lean down towards him, visibly confused. His eyes look directly into yours and he groans a little irritated.

“Listen, you don't have to make room here because the baby's not moving in.” With your eyebrows drawn together, you lean back again and look down at the redhead. Well, not really down because Kid is pretty tall, let's say you're looking at him at eye level.

“Excuse me? The baby's not moving in here? The baby is not a roommate who we don't want to move in with… The…-” You stop your sentence abruptly and look down at your lips, where Kid's hand is resting. Kid doesn't have the nerve to listen to your rambling. You're taking it the wrong way again. But that's more his fault, because he always says things so stupidly, he's aware of that, but he's trying his best.

“Shut up for once, will you?” - “Excuse me?” You let out a muffled voice through his hand.

He growls at you a little as he lets go of you and stands up. Your gaze goes up to him while his goes down to you. There you both stand in front of each other, each with an annoyed look on your face.

“Do you remember that the Victoria Punk is no place for babies?” You think for a moment. You remember that and the fact that you thought he was going to kick you from the crew. You didn't really discuss what he meant by that, but now you're all ears.

“You and the baby will live in our hideaway.” - “WHAT?!” You're so perplexed that you spit a bit at him. Without taking his eyes off you, he wipes the spit off his chin. A little blushed, you mumble an apology.

Kid has no intention of leaving you there alone. He'll stop by often and try to stay as long as he can, but as captain, he has a duty to run his ship. He has made it clear to you in a surprisingly calm voice that it would not be a good environment for your child to grow up on the Victoria... If at all. It's too dangerous and what if something happens to your child? He's made the decision, that's how it's going to be done and there's no changing that.

You can more than understand his thoughts, but it would be nice if he had discussed this with you.

“You know Kid, you may be the captain but I'm still the mother of our child and before you make decisions like this you should talk to me!” You have to tiptoe a little as you point your finger at him. Rolling his eyes, he takes your hand away and gently pulls you towards him.

“You can make all the decisions in the hideout… For example, you can decorate the house however you like. No matter what it costs.” Your eyes light up at his words, “Apology accepted!”

Birth/when the baby is around: You will never see this man cry again. Only in your memories…

When he saw the sleeping face of your picture perfect child for the first time, a switch flipped in him. Who would have thought that Kid would ever have such feelings? The feeling of unfathomable love. The love he has for you is completely different, because he has learned to love you. But this baby? For your child, a love had been born in him that brought tears to his eyes. He will not learn to love this child. No. He will simply love your child more each day!

-

He is a bit reluctant to hold the baby, he even confessed to you that he is afraid of it because of his arm. He doesn't want to crush the baby. Watching him look at you with a crushed look on his face while you hold the baby is making you sad, so you think of something. You wrap a scarf around him and put your little one in the pouch so that he is lying on his chest. The sight is so wonderful. This tall, broad man with a baby carrier! How adorable.

Masterlist

'Hope you enjoyed it <3

[paper-mario-wiki]

Could you explain how Ambrosia is able to come back after dying?

1

Sure yeah, I'll give it a shot.

[Fursona Lore/ Mild Existential Horror presented in charmingly primitive MS Paint style under the cut]

2

[At the top of the panel there is the label "conceptual space (currently being created. The middle is labeled "THE UNIVERSE, REALITY (the other)". The bottom is labeled "CONSCIOUSNESS, REFLECTION (the self). The very bottom of the panel reads "OTHER, FREAKIER BUT LESS IMPORTANT STUFF" ]

To keep it brief, a person is when a certain amount of consciousness slips upwards into reality. Consciousness is, like the laws of thermo dynamics [sic], a fundamental property of the universe.

3

I'm sure you've heard of the sticking-a-pencil-through-paper metaphor for theoretical wormhole travel, right? Staying within that visual metaphor, imagine the moisture in the air around that "piece of paper" as what consciousness is. It creates tiny, imperceivable changes in the surface and makeup of the paper. Imagine a microscopic rain cloud making a tiny fraction of the paper a little bit soggy. That's what you are in the universe. A tiny soggy fraction of a massive piece of paper. (That's why you feel so small btw).

Of course, putting it into that metaphor IS greatly simplifying it, since in real life things like time and space sorta overlap, ya know? Because they're entirely separate dimensions of measurement. Consciousness is the same, it is everywhere in the universe all at once, but only after it seeps in from a place that is exactly where we are, but elsewhere. 4D stuff is complicated sorry if that's not super clear ha ha.

4

Normal people happen when a bunch of that stray potential-consciousness starts stacking more and more layers of reality on top of itself. Sort of like those pastries that you fold butter into and then fold it like 10 times and that makes it so theres like a billion layers of butter and dough and butter and dough and butter and dough and on and on and on. But with, uh. The other stuff. Consiousness and matter from the universe.

Speaking semantically, that's all the little tiny organisms that work really hard to make you alive. Like the biome in your gut, or the bacteria in your tissue and blood cells. Look it up, 43% of the human body is made of bacteria. Like, that's just on google.

Anyway, all their effort culminates in an increasingly complex meat shell that constitutes a person.

5

For the sake of practicality, we can imagine the way consciousness "seeps in" to the universe is like heat coming off the sun. The two overlapping infinite planes radiate into each other like heat radiates off the sun.

That clear? Heat from the sun. Remember that, it's important for the next part.

6

I'm sort of like a solar flare.

My consciousness, in its raw form, was so concentrated that it was like a tiny shooting star straight from the source.

Also kind of like a kidney stone, I guess.

7

Since my consciousness (which, to be clear, is approximately the same "amount" of consciouessness as anyone else, just all smooshed together into a single clump) is smooshed together into a single clump, the shell forms naturally as "reality" settles onto it. The "shape" the consciousness takes is basically the same as your body or anyone else's since the framework of both entities are the "same" on the "outside". Thus the "shells" turn out "similar" too.

Sorry for all the quotation marks, it's hard to talk about concepts outside of the third dimension in third dimensional terms, and like. I also am not super sure about this stuff either. I'm only relaying what I've learned from the scientists but some of it goes over my head.

I like to think I'm clever but like. I'm not a genius.

8

So here's the part where me and you are different: When your shell breaks apart (when you die) it's because the consciouessness had been escaping your shell, like air from a balloon, and the physical structure can't support itself anymore. Or, like, maybe you just fall over and hit your head on the concrete one day and pop the balloon all together.

Either way, the consciousness escapes from the pressure, and either goes back "down" where it came from, or goes upward into conceptual space, which is sorta being constituted through forces exerted in the physical universe. Well, I mean, really it's more of a product of a reaction between consciousness and physical space. Whatever I'm getting off topic.

The point is the shell breaks cuz the balloon pops. I think that was my point.

9

Now that you get all that, you can probably deduce on your own how and why I'm able to keep "coming back".

It's cuz I'm not really "coming back", I'm still here! The shell representing me here was just lost.

10

And while the facade may not look precisely the same every single time...

11

I remain the same.

[pathologicalreid]

𖤓 margotober masterlist 𖤓

in an act of insurmountable indecisiveness, i couldn't choose between flufftober, angstober, and kinktober. naturally, the only solution was to find a way to participate in all three. previews will be posted a week at a time because my indecisiveness extends to my inability to choose what fics to post.

fluff 𖤓 angst 𖤓 smut

october 1st - caretaker

↳ in which you take care of your fiercely independent boyfriend after he gets shot in the knee

october 2nd - always, i'll wait

↳ in which Spencer dedicates himself to pulling you out of your depressive state

october 3rd - wake me from this dream

↳ in which you've been struggling to come to terms with the kiss between Spencer and Cat, and you've finally reached your breaking point

october 4th - with your hands tied

↳ in which you and Spencer continue your kink education, with a hands off approach

october 6th - the build up

↳ in which you and Spencer spend an entire day just waiting to make it to the hotel room

october 7th - what to expect

↳ in which you find yourself frustrated at the end of your pregnancy, and Spencer talks you off a ledge

october 8th - kryptonite

↳ in which all roads lead to Spencer's apartment, at least they do for jareau!reader

october 9th - don't get dark

↳ in which you disclose an attack to Spencer, and he assures you he's not going anywhere

october 10th - cocoon

↳ in which your life is put in danger during an otherwise routine case, and you haven't even told Spencer about the baby

october 11th - diphenhydramine

↳ in which reader has a hard time getting to sleep at night, leading to Spencer's step by step instruction of which hormones help you fall asleep

october 12th - all we ever do is talk

↳ in which Spencer and wife!reader fear they're getting boring, so the BAU sets them up with a hotel suite for Spencer's birthday

october 14th - sanctuary

↳ in which hotchner!reader reunites with the BAU after her time in WITSEC

october 15th - pyrophoric

↳ in which Spencer seeks the help of a chemist to help with his research into white phosphorous

october 16th - wavelength

↳ in which your son ends up in the hospital on one of the BAUs busiest nights of the year

october 17th - heart to heart

↳ in which hotchner!reader is set to have heart surgery, and Spencer can't help but be concerned for her

october 18th - love song for lady earth

↳ in which reader has her first experience with munch!spencer

october 19th - home run

↳ in which Spencer and jareau!reader finally get the opportunity to take the next step in their relationship

october 21st - ode to a conversation stuck in your throat

↳ in which Spencer tries to talk you out of taking a job across the country

october 22nd - here with me

↳ four times Spencer feels out of place in your house after being released from prison, and one time it's like he never left

october 23rd - burn notice

↳ in which your workplace is targeted by a group of extremists, and Spencer tries everything to keep you safe

october 24th - lock and key

↳ in which an act of violence - and subsequent serious injury - brings the truth to the surface and initiates a change

october 25th - in an arrow heart

↳ in which Spencer finds himself distracted by you during an otherwise routine outing to O'Keefe's

october 26th - come a little closer

↳ in which you and Spencer have sex for the first time since his release from prison, and more importantly, since Cat told him what happened in Mexico

october 28th - little duck

↳ in which Spencer is too excited about his first Halloween as a dad to remember he's supposed to be celebrating his birthday

october 29th - missed calls

↳ in which Spencer answers Hotch's daughter's phone when he calls to check in after a case

october 30th - prisoner

↳ in which you and Spencer conduct a custodial interview with a death row inmate - Spencer's first since he was released

october 31st - hysteria

↳ in which the BAU is called into a case in rural Appalachia when bodies start showing up in an abandoned insane asylum

[devilfic]

you know what. I think battinson is such an enthusiastic kisser

both his kisses with selina were kind of this dreamy, almost out-of-body experience where selina had him under her spell and he was just sort of helplessly in love with her so he could do naught but follow her lead,,, but I like imagining what it'd be like if HE initiated kissing his partner

like there's the more confident bruce, a few more years into being batman bruce, where he leans in during a lull of good conversation and he's smiling and suave and controlled but like. bruce in year 2? bruce fresh off selina and realizing he could maybe make time for a relationship? realizing how much he missed being touched? somebody call animal control cause this bat is in heat

before he leans in, he watches you like you'll disappear. his eyes are wide open!! he doesn't want to miss a thing!!! I think he's more likely to grab for your waist instead of going for your face or something.... I think he bubbles with the desire to touch you so bad and he just wants to feel you against all of him, and I think he can't help being a manhandler,,, he needs to move you just so because like he cannot let you slip from his fingers when he's aching to kiss you so bad

he doesn't make a lot of noise when he kisses but he breathes Heavy. I think once he's kind of really winded that's when he starts whimpering really low in his throat... nothing too crazy... little grunts and whines but they're so quiet. if he's kissing you and gets disturbed tho I do think he will full on groan and groan LOUD and it's both funny and super attractive because his face screws up in this petulant little scowl like. can't you see he's busy

he 100% leans fully into it which is a lot because he's a BIG man. he's going to have to push you up against something every single time because he is chasing you every time you part for air, almost mindless and eyes half-lidded as he mouths at you. he's so into it that I can guarantee it's gotten you two kicked out of a gala or two when people inevitably find him devouring you in a dark corner or a hallway you both assumed to be empty

if you wear lipstick/gloss he is not wiping that shit off either oh my goooood. don't let me think about you leaving marks all over his face and him proudly walking out into a swarm of paparazzi just. cheeky

it's really hard to just give this man a quick, chaste kiss. everything has to last at least a minute with him. it's why he literally cannot kiss you when he's busy because it'll be a minute and then five and then he's behind on work (oh no..... so sad.... anyway) because he's got you laid on the nearest surface sucking bruises into your neck

bruce will kiss any part of you but I think he's just so obsessed with your lips that it's where he inevitably fixates each time. it is so so hard to kiss him anywhere else because he will be like wow nice. kiss from my lovely partner. not on my lips tho.... and when he turns around for a kiss on the lips you can't just refuse! he's got such kissable lips and oh this is a time loop that never ends isn't it

[petermorwood]

More on pre-electricity lighting.

Interesting to see this one pop up again after nearly two years - courtesy of @dduane, too! :->

*****

After experiencing a couple more storm-related power cuts since my original post, as well as a couple of after-dark garden BBQs, I've come to the conclusion that C.J. Cherryh puts far too much emphasis on "how dark things were pre-electric light".

For one thing eyes adjust, dilating in dim light to gather whatever illumination is available. Okay, if there's none, there's none - but if there's some, human eyes can make use of it, some better or just faster than others. They're the ones with "good night vision".

Think, for instance, of how little you can see of your unlit bedroom just after you've turned off the lights, and how much more of it you can see if you wake up a couple of hours later.

There's also that business of feeling your way around, risking breaking your neck etc. People get used to their surroundings and, after a while, can feel their way around a familiar location even in total darkness with a fair amount of confidence.

Problems arise when Things Aren't Where They Should Be (or when New Things Arrive) and is when most trips, stumbles, hacked shins and stubbed toes happen, but usually - Lego bricks and upturned UK plugs aside - non-light domestic navigation is incident-free.

*****

Here are a couple of pics from one of those BBQs: one candle and a firepit early on, then the candle, firepit and an oil lamp much later, all much more obvious than DD's iPad screen.

Though I remain surprised at how well my phonecam was handling this low light, my own unassisted eyes were doing far better. For instance, that area between the table and the firepit wasn't such an impenetrable pool of darkness as it appears in the photo.

I see (hah!) no reason why those same Accustomed Eyes would have any more difficulty with candles or oil lamps as interior lighting, even without the mirrors or reflectors in my previous post.

With those, and with white interior walls, things would be even brighter. There's a reason why so many reconstructed period buildings in Folk Museums etc. are (authentically) whitewashed not just outside but inside as well. It was cheap, had disinfectant qualities, and was a reflective surface. Win, win and win.

*****

All right, there were no switches to turn on a light. But there was no need for what C.J. describes as stumbling about to reach the fire, because there were tinderboxes and, for many centuries before them, flint and steel. Since "firesteels" have been heraldic charges since the 1100s, the actual tool must have been in use for even longer.

Tinderboxes were fire-starter sets with flint, steel and "tinder" all packed into (surprise!) a box. The tinder was easily lit ignition material, often "charcloth", fabric baked in an airtight jar or tin which would now start to glow just from a spark.

They're mentioned in both "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings". Oddly enough, "Hobbit" mentions matches in a couple of places, but I suspect that's a carry-over from when it was just a children's story, not part of the main Legendarium.

Tinderboxes could be simple, just a basic flint-and-steel kit with some tinder for the sparks to fall on...

...or elaborate like this one, with a fancy striker, charcloth, kindling material and even wooden "spills" (long splinters) to transfer flame to a candle or the kindling...

This tinderbox even doubles as a candlestick, complete with a snuffer which would have been inside along with everything else.

Here's a close-up of the striker box with its inner and outer lids open:

What looks like a short pencil with an eraser is actually the striker. A bit of tinder or charcloth would have been pulled through that small hole in the outer lid, which was then closed.

There was a rough steel surface on the lid, and the striker was scraped along it, like so:

This was done for a TV show or film, so the tinder was probably made more flammable with, possibly, lighter fuel. That would be thoroughly appropriate, since a Zippo or similar lighter works on exactly the same principle.

A real-life version of any tinderbox would usually just produce glowing embers needing blown on to make a flame, which is shown sometimes in movies - especially as a will-it-light-or-won't-it? tension build - but is usually a bit slow and non-visual for screen work.

*****

There were even flintlock tinderboxes which worked with the same mechanism as those on firearms. Here's a pocket version:

Here are a couple of bedside versions, once again complete with a candlestick:

And here are three (for home defence?) with a spotlight candle lantern on one side and a double-trigger pistol on the other.

Pull one trigger to light the candle, pull the other trigger to fire the gun.

What could possibly go wrong? :-P

*****

Those pistol lanterns, magnified by lenses, weren't just to let their owner see what they were shooting at: they would also have dazzled whatever miscreant was sneaking around in the dark, irises dilated to make best use of available glimmer.

Swordsmen both good and bad knew this trick too, and various fight manuals taught how to manage a thumb-shuttered lamp encountered suddenly in a dark alley.

There's a sword-and-lantern combat in the 1973 "Three Musketeers" between Michael York (D'Artagnan) and Christopher Lee (Rochefort), which was a great idea.

Unfortunately it failed in execution because the "Hollywood Darkness" which let viewers see the action, wasn't dark enough to emphasise the hazards / advantages of snapping the lamps open and shut.

This TV screencap (can't get a better one, the DVD won't run in a computer drive) shows what I mean.

In fact, like the photos of the BBQ, this image - and entire fight - looks even brighter through "real eyes" than with the phonecam. Just as there can be too much dark in a night scene, there can also be too much light.

*****

One last thing I found when assembling pics for the post were Folding Candle-lanterns.

They were used from about the mid-1700s to the later 20th century (Swiss Army ca. 1978) as travel accessories and emergency equipment, and IMO - I've Made A Note - they'd fit right into a fantasy world whose tech level was able to make them.

The first and last are reproductions: this one is real, from about 1830.

The clear part was mica - a transparent mineral which can be split into thin flexible sheets - while others use horn / parchment, though both of these are translucent rather than transparent. Regardless, all were far less likely to break than glass.

One or two inner surfaces were usually tin, giving the lantern its own built-in reflector, and tech-level-wise, tin as a shiny or decorative finish has been used since Roman times.

I'm pretty sure that top-of-the-line models could also have been finished with their own matching, maybe even built-in, tinderboxes.

And if real ones didn't, fictional ones certainly could. :->

*****

Yet more period lighting stuff here, including flintlock alarm clocks (!)

[stupidlypregnant]

I'm already two months pregnant when I start dating someone, but I'm not telling him. Nobody wants to be with someone carrying somebody else's pups. So when we're finally in a relationship - I'm almost three months along - I pretend it's his babies filling my belly - oh, the condom must've been broken - and he believes me.

Oh, you know it's just because I'm skinny that I'm showing so early. - It's twins, you can't compare that to a single pregnancy. - They're just really big, it's good, that means they're healthy. And he believes me.

I'm surprised myself when I reach full term, my whole body aching, poor belly impossibly full and the babies inside active as ever. I know I'm due, overdue almost but he thinks I still have minimum two months to go, saying he can't wait to see me ready to pop. What I already am.

He's obsessed with my gravid form, thinking the babies bulging inside me are his makes him posessive, proud. He praises me for doing so well, carrying such big pups. His hands are on me all the time, he's trying to hold back but I know he's so turned on by the state I'm in.

And I loved it all these months, him satisfying my needs, relieveing me more frequently when I couldn't reach around my middle anymore. Fucking me hard and deep, telling me he wants to keep me like this forever.

But now I can barely take it anymore. Everytime he fucks me I'm afraid it'll kickstart labor. The first baby already dropped so low, making it impossibly hard for me to stand - or worse - walk, the pressure being so bad it feels like they'll just fall out of me if I move. But he wants me healthy so we go on torturing walks, just down the street, but I need to lean on him, clutching my heavy gut with both hands.

Soon I can't leave the bed anymore, even sitting becomes uncomfortable. My body is ready, I feel it but I can't go into labor. There's no way he'll let me have the babies at home when he thinks they're coming too early. There's no way I'll make it near the false due date either.

But the involuntary bedrest I'm on is doing wonders. Days and weeks pass and soon I'm almost a whole month overdue, looking ripe and plump - obscenely pregnant. I'm as relieved as I'm concerned, but I can't share these thoughts because that would lead to him taking me to a doctor and the truth coming out.

I've been having irregular cramps for weeks now, the last days they're coming more frequently. I play them off as a stomach ache whenever he catches me whimpering in pain, fingers digging into the tight orb. He coos at me, rubbing his hands all over the sensitive skin, telling me how good I'm holding on.

The days pass in slow agony until I wake up one night experiencing the most painful cramp until now. I can't hold back the groan leaving my mouth, starting him awake. He reaches for my belly in concern, fingers running over the hard surface, asking me what's wrong. I lie, saying they're probably early Braxton Hick's and as always he believes me.

I don't fall asleep again that night, I'm squirming in bed, breathe as quiet as possible through the now full on contractions seizing up my belly, making the babies kick and move violently inside me. As soon as he leaves for work I don't hold back anymore. I moan whenever the pain takes over, massage the sore muscles of my tummy, the pups sinking lower and lower, making me spread my legs to make room for them.

Hours later the truth hits me. These babies will come and I can't do anything to stop it. He'll find out and he'll leave me and I'll be alone with two kids. With that thought not only the the door to the bedroom opens, also my water breaks, followed by the most overwhelming contraction yet. It's over.

Finally, he says and comes to kneel between my legs, taking off my soaked pants only to sink his fingers inside me without a warning. Almost completely dilated. He must see the confusion written over my face, so he chuckles softly, placing both hands on my misshapen belly. I was waiting for your body to give out. Let's get these pups out of you so you can carry mine.