#but i know that sometimes it really is time to let go so i'm going to try to do that <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[harrysredroom]

Playing With Fire

word count: 4.5k

summary: 18+ content! basically just smut with loads of angst. enemies? lovers? who knows. they sure don’t. dominant/switch harry, submissive/switch y/n…they don’t discriminate. Harry and Y/N just can't seem to decide if it's love, hate, or lust.

a/n: hiiii, this is my first time posting something i’ve written. It’s not something i ever thought i’d do, so go easy on me lmao. let me know if you want to see more! 

"Hello?"

"We're doing pleasantries now? I'm here."

"I'm home."

"Then buzz me in."

"I'm watching a new episode of Criminal Minds."

"Jesus. You can watch it while I fuck you from behind. Buzz me in, Y/N. Now. I don't have the time -or the patience- for your attitude tonight."

That's about as long as their phone calls ever got. The pair sighed in unison before the call ended, the tension bubbling beneath the surface from the second Y/N saw Harry's name pop up on her phone screen. She hadn't seen him or heard from him for the past three months. 

Her and Harry had a complicated, long-standing situationship…and that was putting it lightly. A friend of a friend, a few drinks, a few months of connecting, heartbreak, and a mess of blurred lines. They were the kind of almost-couple that never quite got the timing right. 

Every goodbye was temporary, every reunion accidental but inevitable. The inability to stay away from each other? That was the real reason things never worked. Too much chemistry, not enough clarity. It was passion tangled with pain, affection mixed with avoidance, like trying to hold onto smoke.

Incompatible. 

Harry was consistently gone on tour and afraid of commitment. Y/N never left her tiny bubble of life and was emotionally unavailable. 

They didn't see eye to eye on most things. 

But...their sexual tension? 

It buzzed consistently like a live wire, twisting, crackling, and sparking to life. 

Harry was a constant thrum beneath her skin, rooted deep in her veins like a heartbeat she couldn't quiet. He had this way of making her feel like she mattered even if it only lasted a second. When he'd breathe into the curve of her neck, voice low and ragged, whispering how she was his, her walls would crack just enough to let him in. In those moments, she wasn't cold or closed off. She wasn’t numb. She could feel—really feel—something other than the dull ache that usually lived inside her. It was fleeting, sure, but it was real. And sometimes, that was enough to pull her back under.

Y/N was like a drug to Harry. He was always twitching, in desperate need of a fix. Being inside of her was addictive, his head in the clouds and far away from everything. But the comedown from the high? Brutal. The crash after they were done, after the kisses cooled, after the silence settled in, always hit harder than he expected. Each time left him hollow, questioning everything. Why had he stumbled back into her life again? What part of him kept confusing chaos for comfort, or her bed for safety? He’d lie there, heart still racing, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. But it never did. Just the same ache, the same regret, curling up beside him like a second skin.

Y/N adjusted the sleeves of her oversized jumper, fingers fidgeting for a moment before she stood from the couch. Padding toward the front door, she hesitated for just a second before pressing the buzzer to let Harry in.

The soft buzz echoed down the stairwell, but to her, it felt like a warning siren.

She had to stand her ground this time.

She couldn’t keep letting him drift in and out of her life like a tide she had no control over, especially not after this long. Usually, it was a few weeks, a handful of texts, and a night that bled into morning. But three months? That was different. That was silence she’d almost started to believe in.

Almost.

Harry’s lips curved into that familiar devilish smirk the second he heard the mechanical whirl of the front gate unlocking. That soft hum, the one that granted him access, always felt like the first drop on a rollercoaster. He pushed the door open once the metal gate slid back into place behind him, shutting it with a click that echoed in the empty hallway.

He practically jogged up the two flights to her flat, his pulse quickening with each step, a boyish eagerness he never could quite shake when it came to her. But when he reached her door, any fantasy he’d built on the way up hit a wall. Literally.

She was already there, standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, hips tilted, gaze unimpressed. No soft smile. No warm welcome. Just that unreadable expression he’d seen too many times before.

His grin only widened.

Of course she wasn’t amused. He couldn’t blame her.

But he was already in too deep.

“Aww, s’my sweet Bunny girl angry?” Harry crooned, voice dripping with mock concern as he looked down at her, eyes glinting with mischief.

Without waiting for a response, he brushed his shoulder past hers, slipping into her flat like he owned the place. The scent of her hit him instantly, intoxicating, wrapping around him as easily as her silence did.

"No." Y/N's tone was sharp and low, giving her away.

Harry clicked his tongue as he slipped off his shoes and hung his coat on the rack. Y/N followed him inside, closing and locking the door behind them. 

"Now, now, now...s'that what we're doing? Lying to each other? Thought we both agreed it’s just easier to be honest, did we not?" He tutted as he turned to face her. 

Before she could protest, his hands were grasping at the plushy flesh of her hips with rough vigor, tugging her frame flush against his own. Harry hummed, the sound gravelly and guttural as it rumbled through him. Y/N let loose a shaky breath, her lashes fluttering against her cheekbones.

A simple touch.

Just one very simple touch. 

That's all it took for them to fall back in head first. 

That’s all it took for their resolve to crumble.

Harry leaned in slowly, his movements unhurried and deliberate. His nose brushed against hers, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver down her spine. He breathed her in, sweet and familiar. That scent always did something to him, settled low in his gut and curled around his ribs. He could feel her heartbeat, rapid and erratic, thudding so hard in her chest it might as well have been echoing in his own. The corner of his mouth twitched. "There's my little Bunny, so nervous and jittery around me. S'addicting, y'know that? God, three months without you has been fucking torture."

His voice held the kind of yearning that made her lips itch to feel his own. 

His words were a plea, needy and desperate. 

Her hands moved up to hold the sleeves of his t-shirt, curling around the fabric, trying to ground herself.

"Need you t'use your words for me, love. S'that what's the matter, hmm? Been too long without me?” 

His thumb and forefinger came up to gently grip her chin, tilting up her head. “C'mon, sweet girl. Y'know I can tell if you lie. You wanna be good for me, don't you? Bad girls don't get what m'about to give you." 

Her entire body felt like hot molten lava, and she looked up into his eyes. 

Harry blew out a breath. Those big doe eyes of hers were going to kill him someday and he was certain it would be a happy death. “Fucking hell. I missed you. There. I said it.” 

Now it was her turn to tsk and chuckle, her cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink. “I don’t even have to speak and you’re a sputtering mess for me, Harry. It’s pretty desperate, don’t you think?” 

She watched the way his jaw clenched, felt the way his fingers dug into her sides, and how his pupils blew out, his eyes darkening. “You’re playing with fucking fire, Y/N.” He growled, low and primal, before driving her backward until her spine hit the front door with a quiet thud. In one fluid motion, his hands gripped her hips and lifted her, catching her beneath the thighs. She gasped as he pinned her there, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

His body pressed hard into hers, firm and unrelenting, holding her in place like he had every right to. The force of it stole the breath from her lungs, but it wasn’t just the impact. 

It was him.

It was always him.

Their breaths tangled in the charged space between them, shallow and uneven, like they’d both run miles only to stop just short of the finish. Their lips hovered, barely apart, neither willing to surrender first, both waiting, daring the other.

“Good thing I’m not afraid to get burnt,” she whispered, her voice low and velvet-soft, brushing against his mouth with every word. “I missed you too, by the way.”

That was all it took.

Harry closed the distance, crashing into her like a wave pulled too long by the tide. His mouth found hers with a heat that trickled through her system and she met him there, fingers threading through his hair, the other hand locking around the back of his neck to hold him close.

A quiet whimper slipped from her as his tongue slithered past her lips, insistent and hungry, tasting the sugary remnants of the candy she’d had in front of the tv before he arrived. He groaned low in his throat at the sweetness, and the sound of it unravelled her, hips moving instinctively against him.

They acted with fluid precision, like two pieces made to fall into place. Her fingers tightened in his curls, pulling just enough to draw another sound from him, and before she knew it, she was back on her feet with Harry pressed against her and his hands grasping the dip of her waist to lead her.

She didn’t remember the walk to her bedroom.

Maybe it was because her frame never left the wall of his chest, or maybe because Harry’s mouth never once left her body—trailing down her jaw, along the curve of her throat, kissing and nipping at the skin until her legs turned jelly. She walked backwards, trusting Harry to lead her in the right direction. The door creaked open behind her, and the next thing she knew, her back was pressed to her velvet comforter and Harry was hovering above, his eyes hooded and stormy with want. Her jumper rose up to her midriff, just a pair of plain pink cotton panties with a bow on beneath. She wasn’t expecting company, not that she’d have dressed differently even if she knew he was coming.

“Look at you…” he murmured, more to himself than to her, tracing the outline of her collarbone with a calloused fingertip. “Laid out all pretty for me, like some dream I haven’t earned the right to wake up from.”

She arched towards his touch, her breath hitching when he leaned in and pressed a slow, reverent kiss just beneath her ear. “Maybe you haven’t,” she whispered, breathless but teasing, her voice trembling with the effort not to beg. She said she wouldn’t crack, yet here she was.

Harry’s grin was all sharp teeth and wonderment, but his gaze softened as it swept over her face. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick, “I’d spend the rest of my life tryin’.”

Then he kissed her again, slower now, deeper. It wasn’t just need anymore. It was months of silence, of missing glances, unanswered calls, aching spaces where the other used to be. It was apology and forgiveness, grief and hunger all tangled into one breathless moment. His hands moved with purpose, mapping out the skin he’d gone too long without, relearning every dip, every scar, every shiver he could draw from her with just the brush of his thumb.

“I can’t wait, I need you right now, Y/N, can you feel my cock? It’s fucking aching.” Harry grunted out, pressing his hips down against her core to prove his point. She could feel the outline of him, rock solid for her, straining against his jeans. 

She whimpered at the friction, a damp spot already present against the fabric of her panties from the second he walked through her front door and looked at her with those eyes of his. 

“I’m going to indulge in you properly later, take my time, bury my head between your thighs like your pretty pussy deserves after bein’ so neglected. But right now? I just need to fuck you.”

Harry’s hand slid beneath the back of her thigh, pulling her leg around his waist and tugging her panties to the side as he breathed heavily into her neck, his lips trailing hungry, greedy kisses along her skin. 

“Then fuck me already.” Y/N bratted through deep breaths, her hands finding the hem of his shirt and tugging, needing him unclothed and fast.

Harry’s jaw clenched as he sat up just enough to look down at her. She was absolutely sinful like this, her pussy glistening with arousal, her eyes hazy with that smug, lustful expression. He scoffed out a breath as he ripped his shirt off from over his head, tossing it across the room as his fingers nimbly found his belt buckle. “Get it all out now, Bunny. S’not gonna be so funny when I’m pounding into you so hard you can’t breathe, and you know it.” He growled, his eyes meeting hers with stern warning. 

The metal clinking sound of his belt coming undone echoed in the small space, and he pulled it from the loops of his jeans with one smooth tug. He looked into her eyes as he looped the leather in half before snapping it together, the sound crackling the room. “Behave,” he warned.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her mind flashing back to the time that Harry had tied her wrists behind her back with that exact same belt. She gulped, a glimmer in her eyes as she nodded, deciding this was her time to be quiet if she wanted to get her way.

A devilish smirk coated Harry’s lips, the dimple in his cheek protruding. “That’s my girl.” He murmured as he tugged down his boxers, his hard cock now resting heavy in his palm. He leaned down, the head pressing against her entrance. He slicked through her folds, each of them sighing in relief at the feeling. Without warning, he thrust in, hard and deep. She cried out, her back arching, her head tipping back against the mattress as he tore through her without remorse.

“That’s my fucking girl.” He growled as his body rocked into hers. The pace was unhurried but purposeful, like he was trying to relearn her from the inside out. Their sweat-slicked skin was sticking where they touched, their breaths loud and shallow in the dim light of her bedroom.

Every move he made felt like a question. Are you still mine? Do I still fit here?

And every answer came from the way she held him, close and needy, her nails dragging angry red lines down his spine, her hips rolling to meet his like she was trying to etch the shape of him into her bones. She wanted him to remember. Each time he caught a glimpse in the mirror, or the hot water of his shower cascaded over his back, he’d remember her and the marks she’d left him with.

It was messy. A little unsteady. Every shift, every gasp, threaded with the weight of what they were too stubborn to say out loud. She whimpered when his mouth found that sensitive spot beneath her ear again, the one that always made her body quake.

“Fuck,” he groaned, dragging his teeth across her jaw. “You feel the same. Still so tight f’me. Still so fuckin’ perfect.” Harry thrusts his hips forward, burying his cock deep within her. Each movement had her bed creaking, the sound of her arousal gushing around the base of his cock obscene and lewd in the best possible way. It coated his pubic bone and thighs, sticky and wet.

Y/N bit her lip, her head lolling back against the pillow, exposing the long line of her throat. “You think saying shit like that makes this less complicated?”

Harry didn’t stop. Couldn’t. “No,” he admitted, voice rough and low, “but maybe it’ll make it easier when I leave.”

Her chest hitched, a shiver rolling through her—not from his words, but from the ache in them. That aching little crack in his voice that sounded like regret finally catching up to him.

She shouldn’t have answered. She knew she shouldn’t have. But her voice came anyway, soft and breathless. “You’re the one who always comes back.”

That struck somewhere deep within him. His rhythm faltered for half a second, just long enough for the truth to land. But then his mouth crashed into hers again, hungry, silencing the sting with his tongue. He kissed her like he could steal her words, bury them inside his lungs so they wouldn’t echo back at him later.

And she let him.

Because she needed to feel something that wasn’t heartbreak. Something real. Something alive.

Her legs tightened around his waist, and her back arched into him, her body shaking under his touch as her release crept closer, hot and consuming. Y/N’s moans were nothing short of pornographic, breathy and sultry whines. 

Harry cursed under his breath, the sounds she made unraveling his restraint thread by thread. He reached his hand between them, two fingers finding her clit with ease, puffy and swollen for him. He hissed at the way her jaw dropped open, immediately moving his fingers in fast, tight circles around the bundle of nerves. He knew how sensitive she was, her thighs trembling in their position around his hips. His thrusts never stopped, the sound of wet skin slapping wet skin echoed her bedroom as he fucked into her. Harry watched the way her tits bounced beneath her jumper, each of them still half clothed, having been too caught up in the moment to worry about undressing fully. He didn’t need her nude to know how her body looked, how she felt. Her soft, blissed out features and the warm squeeze of her cunt around his cock would be plenty for him.

“C’mon, Bunny,” he murmured, voice shaking, forehead pressed to hers. “Wanna feel you. Let go f’me.”

The weight of him pressed down, grounding her, anchoring her to the moment, where nothing else outside the walls of her flat existed. Just Harry, just Y/N, and the quiet crackle of something neither of them dared name.

She could feel every inch of him, his breath against her collarbone, his fingers rolling over her clit with eagerness, the slow, torturous grind of his hips as he buried himself deeper, like he belonged there.

Maybe he did.

Maybe he always had.

“Say it again,” she whispered, her voice a velvet thread in the darkness.

Harry blinked, chest rising and falling against hers, lips ghosting over the curve of her jaw.

“Say what?”

“That you missed me.”

His throat bobbed with the swallow. His voice, when it came, was rough with more than just lust. “I did. I do.” His forehead pressed to hers. “Every fucking day I miss you, Y/N.”

That admission cracked something open inside her. Not all the way, just enough to let the ache bleed out, soft and messy. Just enough to let him in again.

She arched into him, her arms circling around his back as if she could pull him beneath her skin, as if she could memorize the weight of him and keep it when he left again. Because he would. That much she knew.

Everything about Harry was too much yet perfectly enough. His teeth nipped at the column of her throat before his tongue soothed the ache, his panted breaths hot and heavy against her neck as he fucked into her. 

Y/N was practically mewling, whimpering and trembling as she got closer and closer. Her stomach coiled up tight with each deep thrust, the head of his cock punching through her walls, rough and gentle all at once as if he couldn’t decide which half of himself to give into. Harry’s cock twitched inside of her, a telltale sign he was close. 

“Fucking hell…this pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, Bunny? C’mon, tell me who’s pussy this is and I’ll let you cum.” His voice was shattered, deep and sultry as his fingers slowed against her clit to a barely there pressure.

Y/N whimpered, the noise near pathetic as she tried to roll her hips upwards, desperately chasing her high. “It’s yours, Harry. I belong to you.”

Harry puffed out a breath as if her words were too much to handle. 

“Good fucking girl. My girl.” He whispered against the shell of her ear, his tongue flicking out to lick a strip against her jaw before, without warning, he sat up, his hands gripping the backs of her calves and pushing her legs up towards her head for an entirely new angle. 

She gasped, feeling his cock slip out to the tip in their shift. Harry smirked down at her, his grin devilish. He knew how much she loved this position, how perfectly it let his cock hit that spongy, sensitive spot inside of her. He didn’t waste a second before he tightened his grip and pulled back his hips before slamming them forward. 

Y/N cried out his name as he rocked into her with fervent need, groaning at the way her walls clamped down around his cock, desperate to milk him dry. He let one of her legs fall from his grasp, only to slip his hand between their bodies, his thumb rubbing messy, relentless circles over her clit. He drove into her again and again, burying himself to the hilt, never letting her forget exactly how perfectly she took him. His breaths were mixed with shattered low groans as he watched the way her chest rose and fell, how her cheeks had pinkened and her lips hung parted in a perfect, petal pink pout of pleasure. The headboard slammed against the wall in a frantic rhythm, just barely drowning out the filthy wet sounds of his cock plunging through her slick, stretching her open and claiming her in every way. He found his home deep inside her pussy—exactly where he belonged, exactly where he was meant to be.

His Bunny let out a string of whined moans, her thighs quaking, and he knew she was right on edge. “That’s it, sweet girl. Cum all over my cock, show me how much you missed me.” He panted.

Between the desperation in his voice and the way he slammed into her, it only took seconds for Y/N to come crashing down. Her pussy pulsated around Harry’s cock as she let out a low, breathless moan, the sound like music to his ears. The way her walls clenched around him had him thrusting in as deep as he could possibly go, his body surging forward to capture her lips in a hungry kiss. His orgasm hit him hard, pouring into her in long, hot spurts that left him whimpering against her mouth. Sounds of raw yearning and need spilled from him, muffled by their kiss, as her nails dug into the muscles of his lower back. His hips stuttered against her, his body desperate to stay as close to hers as possible, every last drop of him filling her completely. He rolled forward, pushing his cum impossibly deeper as if it would keep it there, keep him there.

Harry stayed buried inside of her, his forehead dropping to press against hers again as they both struggled to catch their breath. Their chests heaved together, sticky skin sliding, the heat between them nearing unbearable. He pressed a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then the hollow just beneath her ear, murmuring sweet nothings too soft and slurred for either of them to really understand.

“Fuck, Bunny,” he panted, voice rough and wrecked with pleasure. “Missed you. Missed this. Missed being inside you.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, still feeling every delicious throb of him, every aftershock rippling through her sensitive body. She tilted her head back just enough to meet his blown, dazed gaze, smirking despite the lingering tremors in her thighs. She’d missed it too, but she wasn’t about to say it, not now, not when she hadn’t gotten her chance to have the upper hand and remind him why he kept coming back here, back to her.

“You better catch your breath, pretty boy,” she whispered against his damp temple, her voice a low, teasing purr. “Because it’s my turn.”

Harry blinked slowly, still half drunk off the high she had just pulled him into. “Your turn?” he repeated, the lazy smile that tugged at his mouth making her want to kiss it clean off.

Y/N grinned, sliding her hands down the damp, muscular plane of his back before giving his hip a playful little squeeze that made him grunt against her. “Mhm,” she hummed, shifting her hips beneath him just enough to make him hiss, his sensitive cock twitching inside her pussy. “You think you can just come in here, fuck me like that after three months, and not deal with the consequences of your actions?”

He let out a rough chuckle, his body still twitching with sensitivity, but his hands found her hips again on instinct, holding on like he already knew she was about to wreck him.

“You’re playing with fucking fire.” She murmured in a mock of his earlier words against his jaw, nipping at his scruff with her teeth, loving the low growl it dragged from his chest.

“Is that right?” Harry rasped, the words barely a thread of sound. “Well…It’s a good thing m’not afraid to get burnt.” He mused, humming out her own response to the same question. 

“Mmhm,” Y/N purred, and before he could say anything else, she rolled her hips up into his with a slow, devastating grind. His whole body jerked, a broken moan escaping his throat. “And you, Mr. Styles, are about to find out exactly what happens to bad boys who don’t think they can be outmatched.”

She tightened her legs around his hips, flipping them with a surprising surge of strength and adrenaline that made him grunt out a startled, breathless laugh. He fell back against the mattress, wide-eyed and grinning even as he tried to process the shift.

Y/N straddled him now, hands splayed on his chest, hair wild around her flushed face, a gleam in her eye that promised nothing short of absolute, blissful ruin.

“You think you can handle it?” she teased, rolling her hips again, slow and purposeful, making him gasp and clench the sheets beneath him from the overstimulation.

Harry let his head fall back, the cords in his neck straining as he fought for control. “Fuck, Bunny,” he groaned, voice breaking on the nickname. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She leaned down, brushing her nose against his before catching his bottom lip between her teeth and tugging gently, making him groan again.

“Good,” she whispered against his mouth. “That’s the idea."

[blueivyy99]

Sylus? No ... Skye?

Sylus x NonMC

summary: you didn't know that your lovely sweetheart is the most wanted man in all of Linkon. you knew him as Skye. one year with him was bliss, then suddenly he ghosted you.

tags: fluff, angst, sylus as skye, non mc reader more tags to follow

taglist: @animegamerfox @lazypostfandomer @mentaltrouble2201

note: ACKKK new series hiii! Hope you enjoy this

Masterlist

"How is my darling?"

Destiny cafe is particularly busy during this time of the day. Chatters from friends and the sound of the coffee grinder fills the place. So when you heard a familiar voice talking in your direction, you tear your gaze away from your laptop and looked at them. It's your very adorable boyfriend -- Skye. You immediately shoot him a smile. He's finally here.

"You're just in time. I'm actually loading up my cart for skincare products. Come and help me choose."

He groaned before plopping to your side and looked at your screen. That made you giggle. He doesn't really like doing all of these and in his own words he can "just help pay for it" but he tolerates you anyway.

"Sweetie, didn't we just bought some a few months back?" he asked while still scrolling through different brands of facial masks looking for the ones you two already tried and tested.

"Months. It's been months, Skye. We already went through all of them. We only have a week's worth."

"Fine. Go and check out this one. I like the scent."

Your afternoon went on like that. Nothing new. Just a fun and light moment with your long term boyfriend. It has been a blissful year since you two got in a relationship and so far, he did nothing but make you smile. Although he is stubborn at times and makes your head ache with his sudden disappearances, you didn't question him for it. You wanted to, but it seemed like he isn't ready to tell you where he goes and as an apology when he returns he gives you a bouquet of peonies.

Skye tells you that he is just a lowly fruit vendor whose income depends on how his fruits sell and that he got lucky supplying a few bigshots costumers here in Linkon, but sometimes it's hard to believe that. His motorbike collection alone is enough to pay for your year's worth of salary and so far he used at least five different big bikes around you. Not to mention his cars that's another puzzle that you cannot wrap your head around.

And the way he spoils you is out of this world! You're not one to police someone's spending habits but if Skye is telling the truth and he is just living off of his fruits, then he should start cutting back on the amount he spends on you.

"Skye, if you ever think of paying for this, I'm telling you now: don't." you said trying to be stern. "Let me cover it this time."

He raised a brow at you, "What kind of boyfriend am I if I let my lady pay for the things she loves?"

When he is like this it's so easy to just give in and do what he wants especially when he looks so offended that you don't want him to pay for you. It might no be obvious to him, but he has this little pout whenever he doesn't get his way and his eyes looks so disappointed that it makes your heart clench.

But no. You will not be swayed.

"You will be a responsible boyfriend who will be mindful of his spending habits so he can maintain his lifestyle." you answered him looking directly in his eyes. "You have been spending wayyyy too much on me, baby. It feels like for a week alone, you already managed to gift me an entire month's worth of my salary."

"Fruit sold so well it's fair that my lady gets her share."

There he is again. Using his charm and sweet words to get to you.

"I love that you had such a provider mindset, that's very husband material of you." you said emphasizing your last phrase because you know you get him to listen to you when that kind of topic is brought up. "BUT you have to spend wisely. It's not everyday that you will sell well. What if a competitor comes and you lose all your costumers, then what? I would happily provide for us, but if we can avoid being broke then by all means let's avoid it."

Skye knows you and your history. You didn't come from a rich background and you had to work your entire high school until college just to finish studying so you know hard work and how important it is to be mindful of your purchases and seeing Skye just burn his finances like it doesn't hurt his pockets is something that you would just watch.

"What I'm saying is, you need to save up for your future. You never know what might happen."

He took your hand and laced it with his, bringing it up his lips and kissed it.

"Don't worry about that 'kay? I'm not spending more than what I can lose. We won't go broke." he said and smirked, "But I think I would spend more on you. I like it when you get so ... wifey. Makes me wanna put a ring on you."

You blushed hard. Feigning irritation, you took your hand back and crossed your arm.

"Well, I won't marry someone who doesn't care about our finances."

"Hey! Don't say that!" He made you face him but you won't budge.

He sighed defeatedly when you didn't speak further. "Fine. I would spend less."

You smiled and finally looked at him. "Promise?"

"Promise." he looked like a kicked puppy it's adorable. You kissed his cheeks to mend his broken heart.

"Love 'ya. Keep that up I might propose to you myself."

He was wide eyed when you said that.

"Don't you dare, sweetie. Let me do the proposing." he said.

"If you are gonna spend a couple of thousand dollars on it, then I would say no." you stuck your tongue out just to piss him off.

He chuckled at you and your childish antics, "A man don't kiss and tell about the prices of their gifts, sweetheart. You wouldn't know."

You just pinched his ears lightly careful not to hurt him. "Take me seriously, Skye. Don't spend too much on me. Save some for yourself."

"I know, baby. I hear you. I will try, okay?"

You nodded your head. That's good enough to hear for now.

==

You walked out of the cafe planning to chill in your home and watch movies when Skye received a phone call from his shop assistant Luke. He answered it while keeping his hand on your waist to guide you to the front seat of his car.

"Hello?" He shut the door to his side and started driving putting Luke in speaker mode.

"Boss Man, we're on our way to deliver watermelons. The client wants to meet you. It's important."

You can hear Skye grumbling under his breath. He hates it when these kind of things happen especially when his time with you gets cut short. You two only see each other once or twice a week and it really pisses him off when he can't spend it like he intended to. You took his free hand and held him nodding for him to go.

"But -"

"Do it. Visit me tomorrow or the next day. Just text me and I will take a day off." you said. You really missed him too but his business needs him and you won't be the one to cause it's downfall.

He just sighed and answered Luke, "I'll be there. I will just take Y/N home."

"Copy boss!"

==

He pulled up in front of your apartment. You can see that he hesitates to leave because he doesn’t even look at you and he has that little pout on his lips again. When Skye is like this, you really want to kiss him silly.

“Skye,”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Tsk.” He turned off the engine and went out to open the door for you. “I will be back as soon as I can, okay? I love you.”

You gave him a sweet kiss on the lips. You need your fill for when you wait on him.

“I love you too.”

You watched his car leave. Feeling hollow on your chest.

You went inside hopeful that he will see you in two days tops.

But then a week had passed and no message from him. You tried to call but it only rings.

It made you worry and you don’t know any way to reach him.

If you had known that it would be the last time you would see him after a very long time, would you have let him go?

note: how was itttt? i hope you enjoy. this will be at least 3-4 parts only. love you!!! reacts, comments and reblogs are much much welcome 🤗

[girlfromflor]

went through hell yesterday and now I'm thinking about kyle garrick who takes care of you so tenderly when you're feeling sick – at first, at least. | gn!reader, kyle is like a daddydom(?) but there's no use of daddy in this one

he doesn't even question why that night, he just asks "what are you feeling, my love?" concern taking over every feature of his beautiful face.

to which you answer "headache... feel like throwing up," with a big pout and shaky hands from nausea.

he makes something salty and light for you to try and eat at least something, but as you shake your head and say with trembling voice that you "really can't, kyle", he nods and helps you walk all the way to your bedroom where he sets you down on the bed and gives you a pill to help and soothe the headache.

he watches as you drink it grimacing and he can only say "i know, baby, but you can sleep now. and you'll wake up feeling better tomorrow, eh?"

he let's you hide your trembling, cold hands underneath his shirt. you forehead tucked in chest as he hugs you until you're asleep. and when you wake up, he's still there – by your side, holding you like you're the most precious thing he ever came across.

when he wakes up, the very first thing he does is make sure you're feeling 100% better. once that's out of the way, he asks "now, tell me what happened yesterday, love."

you, as guilty as you could feel, answer him with a mumble. "forgot to eat dinner yesterday..."

you can feel the way the soothing brushes of his fingers in your skin halt for a second, before he's questioning "did you, baby? what was it that you were doing that made you forget to eat?"

he knows you get caught up in your own head sometimes, that you get so entranced in your hobbies that you forget to do the most basic things for your own comfort. you tell him that you were just distracted with a new tool you got that would help you finish your project of the moment, to which he answers with a sigh.

"baby, i know you were having fun and distracted, but what is the rule for when you have a new project you're working on?"

he waits as you take your time to answer. he's always so patient with you, it makes tears well up in your eyes. "i have to set up an alarm and always prioritize things related to my health and comfort..." you answer firmly, you had to repeat that a lot of times for you to not know it by now.

"hm, that's right. so, if you remember that, how come you forgot about it yesterday?" he's not mad, you can tell, but he's worried. worried something else got to you and that you actively neglected it other than just forgetting.

"'s just that i didn't have my phone close, so i couldn't have heard the alarm go off. 'm sorry, it wasn't on purpose..." you rush to answer, voice slowly being enveloped in anxiety, but he just sushes you with a kiss to your cheek.

"c'mon now, baby. you know it's okay. this isn't for me, is for you," he says and pull you closer in his embrace. "go on, say it, baby. you don't have to be sorry."

"it's okay... it's okay, and this is about me, not you," you take a deep breath and that works for calming you down. kyle always knows how to keep you grounded.

"yeah, that's right, love." he plants another kiss in your cheek, and then one to your nose. "but you cannot neglect your meals like that, can you?"

"no, i can't..." the response comes automatically, you feel so safe with him knowing he's taking care of you that you don't mind whatever punishment he'll give you for not following the rules.

he hums in agreement, deep tone of his voice rumbling in his chest. he's already moving out of your arms and finding his place between your thighs, holding them spread to his liking.

"'m gonna use my mouth on you, and you'll feel really good, baby," he points out, matter-of-factly. "but just when you're about to cum, i'll stop," he adds, and you can feel yourself squirming already. kyle is too good with his mouth, and he knows that.

"and you'll take it. my good, precious baby can do it, yeah?"

fuck, this is going to be a long morning.

[puck-luck]

omg your celly is so cute! i’d like to order a cappuccino with cold foam for luke hughes. i just really want something cute or playful with yearning from luke. maybe friends or friends with benefits? i hope this makes sense and i did this right, thank uuu

thank you!! i hope this was enough yearning for you, i'm thinking that luke really does want something more with y/n. i think y/n just doesn't want anything to change between them. we'll see if this blurb continues in the future (i might add a pt.2 in another celly request<3)

“Oooh, Y/N and Luke are going in the closet,” Kayleigh chirps. Rutger sits next to her, arm slung over her shoulders. He sticks out his tongue, grinning widely. Similar chirps echo through the room as you and Luke stand up, rolling your eyes and making a face at all of the onlookers. They’re making a big deal out of this game and the fact that you and Luke are going into the closet for seven minutes. What they don’t know is that you and Luke started hooking up in his first semester at UMich and it has continued through each of his visits back to the state.

“Oooh,” Luke mocks as he closes the door, plunging you both into darkness. He turns around and faces you, grinning widely.

“I can’t believe I have to be in the closet with you,” you bemoan, pinching your lips together and scrunching your nose fondly when Luke rolls his eyes and shakes his head, his whole body sagging. As he stands back to his full height, though, his smile is wider that Rut’s.

“I know,” Luke responds. “It’s such a joke. You and me in the closet? As if anything would ever happen between us.”

You chuckle, biting your lower lip lightly as Luke locks the door behind him. The click sounds and your eyebrows twitch, daring Luke to come closer.

He does. He approaches you with his tongue poking through his bite, giggling breathlessly as he cradles your face and sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. He consumes you whenever he kisses you, always treating it like it’s the last time he’ll get the chance. 

“Is this all we’re going to do in our seven minutes?” you ask between kisses. 

Luke hums, tongue stroking yours sensually. “Consider it foreplay.”

“You confident that you’ll get to home base tonight?”

“You think I won’t?”

Now it’s your turn to hum, tilting your head to the left and reconnecting with Luke when he tilts to his left. “Hmm, I don’t know. Don’t you have to leave soon? Go back to your parents’ house since you don’t live here anymore?”

Luke makes a wounded noise, his hand trailing down from your jaw to cup your tit. “Are you making fun of me?”

You giggle. “I’d never.”

Luke’s kisses turn softer. It’s probably been four or five minutes now, so your time is coming to an end. You’ll have to separate soon, but it’s so hard when Luke’s entire palm is sealed over your breast comfortably. If you had more time, Luke would brush his fingertips beneath the underwire of your bra or reach past the cup to thumb over your nipple. 

“You should meet them,” Luke murmurs. “I think they’d like to meet the girl I’ve been sleeping with for a couple of years now.”

“Careful, Lu,” you warn in your sweetest voice. You twirl a curl around one of your fingers, tugging gently. You brush his lips again. “One of these days, someone will start to think that you like-like me.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” Luke ponders aloud. He smiles into the kiss and moves his palm from your chest to your behind. He smooths over your ass, digging his fingers into the meat there before letting go. “I feel like someone has been saying that for a while now.”

“Oh, but he only says it when he’s having sex,” you tease. “It really confuses a girl.”

“Well if the girl comes to meet my parents…” Luke trails off. He fills your mouth with one last sweep of his tongue and plants a kiss on your neck. “It’s not really just when we have sex, is it?”

“Maybe sometimes when you’re on the road, but then you usually start jerking off.” You beam up at him, hands removed from his body and clasped behind your back. “But I don’t mind.” You let your eyes roam down his figure before your friends outside open the door and catch you and Luke in a situation. “You should wear looser pants next time we play Seven Minutes in Heaven. Inviting me to meet your parents really gives you a stiffy.”

He grins at you and tries to adjust himself into a position less noticeable. “Better?”

You shake your head, snickering. “It’s just too big, Lukey…”

“Don’t– talk about how big my dick is,” Luke says through gritted teeth. “You’re going to make it worse.”

You brush past him towards the door, cupping his cock through his pants. “Size kink?”

Luke hisses at you, sucking air through his teeth and circling his fingers around your wrist. He pulls your hand away, holding it in front of his chest, far away from his crotch. “Stop it.”

You wiggle your fingers at him and unlock the door with your other hand, twisting the knob and leaving Luke to sort out his big problem.

[midnghtprentiss]

the favorite - jack abbot x f!attending!reader

pairing: jack abbot x f!attending!reader

a/n: this is my first jack story and i'm really excited. as a former healthcare worker (nurse!) the pitt changed a lot of things for me and it's my favorite show so far. hope you all like this idea of mine. sorry for any spelling mistakes. english is not my first language.

summary: all the times you were everyone's favorite person and one time you were jack’s person. 

one. 

you're a ray of sunshine. 

that's your thing.

you’re nice, intelligent, competent, kind and still the best part of the day for some people. and you’re smart as hell. she loves it. 

your calm energy it’s the reason why you work at the emergency department. people need your calmness around to work. which means you’re the favorite doctor beneath the staff, especially the nurses and med students - you’re their golden girl. 

dana loved you for different reasons. your sense of humour, your energy, the way you pay attention to the details. and most because you stay out of trouble. 

she never had a problem with you, actually, she was glad they put someone sane and kind to work in that shithole. every shift you showed up with something for the team. 

maybe homemade cookies, a cake and even a bread if you feel inspired baking for your people to show how grateful you are for them and to keep the spirits up. thank god it worked every time. perla and princess waited for you in the parking lot a few times just to make sure you got something good. 

what they admired the most about you was your strength to defend the nurses from the crazy patients. it doesn’t matter the shift, if someone is fighting with them, you’re the first one to show up and say some things. perla remembered how you got beaten up to defend princess from a perv that was touching her and how you ended up laughing about it with blood all over your nose (jack almost died when he saw you covered in blood - your blood). 

“it’s nothing, dana. he was touching her and i don’t appreciate it when men do that. she asked him to stop and he didn’t.” you shrugged and smiled at her. “don’t worry, alright? i would've done it for any of you.”

“kiddo, one of these days you’re going to kill me.”

“no i won’t.” you bolwed her a kiss and she laughed. a relieved laugh. “it’s not my fault i would take a bullet for you guys.” 

no one ever questioned your loyalty with the team, everybody knows exactly where’s the limit between respect and bullshit with you. from this day on, she put you under her wing and swore to herself anything that could ever happen to you during a shift was her full responsibility. some days the funniest part of her shift was explaining to abbot how you almost went home with a broken arm to defend them.

two. 

robby was his own person and you knew that. he loved the space, the warmth of his own heart and the loneliness. of course you were worried a lot of times. 

but for him you were like a breath of fresh air. the way you cracked jokes when you noticed he was this close to snap, when you distracted him for a few minutes with some picture of your cat, even taking him to the morgue just to swear bad words, or when you brought him coffee and chocolate. even when you covered for him for a few minutes so he could cry in peace. 

and he loved you a lot for that (and a lot of other reasons, but let’s focus on the main ones).

you never said a word about any of the things he never asked you to do and you've done it either way. he could count on you any moment of the shift just for glancing different at your direction. sometimes you have conversations with your eyes, sometimes you just cursed him under your breath and that was it. 

you even scared him a little. 

“i don’t want to see you for at least twenty minutes, robinavich. don’t make me yell at you.” you don’t even gleaned at him from the computer. “i got this. go grab something to eat while you cry, i don’t know. call your boyfriend, go watch some babies at peds i want you gone. the kids are my responsibility now.” 

“i need to be grown up now, i am literally their boss.” he tried to argue but one look from you was enough.

“if you don’t disappear in the next thirty seconds i’ll call jack and things will be worse.” you got up crossing your arms like a mother. 

“jezz, fine. please don’t ground call papa” he rolled his eyes, laughing and walked away from you, disappearing from your sight. 

“that’s how you teach grown men to be normal.” you winked at dana who was watching everything mesmerized cause she begged robby to take a break and he didn’t listen. 

robby was gone for thirty minutes and no one noticed his absence. when he returned to the nursing station he saw you teaching the med students how to do a proper examination on a normal patient, listening and answering all of the questions they had like a pro. 

you got everything covered and he felt good to have someone to help without needing to ask. 

that’s why you were his favorite. 

three. 

the med students loved you. the absolutely worship the ground you walked on. they loved your patience, your mind and especially how you treated them like people. in your mind they were there to learn, which means they'll make some mistakes and that's partially fine as long as they don’t kill anybody. 

“she has a masters and a doctorate, guys!” javadi once exclaimed like she found gold at the ED. 

at some point you became their confident. you knew every little detail about their life. how withaker was living with santos, how javadi was crushing mateo really bad even how santos struggled with the loss of her friend. mel learned how to open up about her sister's situation and mohan was navigating through the loss of her father even after all this time. you even helped mckay with the legal proceedings for her to have her son back. 

you knew everything. 

during your shifts you did your best to rotate between them. each day you choose one to watch from close and teach what you know and everyday they fight to decide who stays with you but after dr santos and whitaker dared to start a fist fight robby and dana choose for them. 

robby and jack were a little jealous of you, especially because you’re a smooth talker and you charmed everyone who listened. 

“it’s unfair how they follow you around like some sort of queen bee.” robby almost cried with his words. 

“i heard they have a groupchat with you, is it true?” jack nearly jumps from his seat. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you sipped your coffee. 

“oh you know exactly what i’m saying.” he shots back and you laughed hard. 

“are you jealous of them? from what i’ve known you don’t even like interns, abbot.” 

“yeah, but i like to know what they say about my girl.” 

“they call her mama bear, brother.” robby looked at his hands trying to hold a chuckle. 

they’re definitely jealous. 

you use your time to teach them some valuable lessons. you help them navigate in the transition of becoming a doctor. smoothly and nice, just like you learned. 

“you know, santos, i’ll be honest, you need to review your way of talking with people.” you were beside her with crossing arms, watching her stitch a patient. 

your voice was hard and soft at the same time. 

“i’m only rude to the jerks.” you hold your laugh. 

“at one moment you’ll start to see all of them as jerks and this can’t happen.” you warned her softly. “imagined if you’re the one in their position. would you like to be treated like that?” 

she stared at you and nodded gently, sighing at your words. 

“what if i can’t do that?” 

“you will call me and we’ll try a different approach.” you touch her shoulder and squeeze. “i don’t want you to be cold and indifferent. the medicine needs to make you feel something. you’re doing a good thing for someone you like or not.”

they listen to you and they care. if you say something immediately they’ll do it and will make it like their life depends on it. 

at your birthday, for example, they made you a cake from scratch and even decorated it with pink frost and a glitter candle. you burst out laughing just for them to do that for you. no one else got a cake, just you. 

they even wrote you a small letter. 

“thank you for being the best teacher for us. we loved you, mama bear.  lots of love and hugs from your students.”

you were really grateful for those kids and they were grateful you’re their teacher. 

four. 

langdon was a problematic guy. it was no secret. he knew it, you knew it. but he was an exceptional doctor. no discussions about that. it was a fact. 

when he first started struggling with his addiction he came to you. something was happening to him and you got it in your heart that in the right moment he would talk. 

and he did.

he always talked about his problems with you. he came to talk about his marriage and how scared he was to broke things off with abby, how scared he was of being a shitty father. he viewed you more like an older sister, a protector of him. he liked how you never judged his fears, he liked the way you listened and tried to put some sense into his mind to do the right things. 

but this time it was different. it was worse. eating him alive. 

you were working a double shift when he found you in the stairs eating a burger in peace. you offered him some and he denied it. the air around him was thick, heavy and sad. he was a broken man and the sight almost broke your heart. 

“talk to me, frank.” 

“i fucked up.” you nodded, putting your food away to hold his hand.

“heard about it.” he sighed and you could see how embarrassed he was. “you need to get some help. i can’t see you struggling and acting like nothing's wrong. i like you too much to close my eyes and pretend.”

“i’m going to rehab. eleven months.” you smile. “robby is pretty pissed at me.” you both laughed. 

“good for you, frank.” your hand find his shoulder “you’re gonna get better. i’ll be there to help you whenever you need someone to talk, to eat burgers or talk shit about our job.the world is pretty fucked and i’m pretty sure you need a chance to make things right from your mistakes, you hear me?”

he nodded feeling a little less lost knowing you’ll be there to help. he wasn’t alone anymore and when he understood he had you by his side, the journey was smoother. 

five. 

jack abbot was a man of darkness. he worked so much better at night. it was his comfort zone. 

until you showed up years ago and messed up this whole dark theme he had planned for himself. 

working doubles wasn’t strange to you. you have bills to pay and things to accomplish and no time to waste. you two get along pretty well. more than well, actually. you were unstoppable together and everybody knew that. even walsh recognize you were good. she liked you (a miracle in jack’s view) a lot. 

you knew better than to date another doctor. you did this once and ended up in a pretty bad divorce. and with jack? you didn’t care anymore. 

he also knew better than to date another doctor. to date anyone actually. but no one was you. no one had a contagious laughter like yours. no one had a brain like yours. 

he was pretty sure god, or whatever divine figure, sent you just for him. 

the whole ‘soulmate’ story was a lie to him, until it wasn’t. you definitely was his soulmate. his favorite person.

his person. 

from the quiet drive home after a shift. from the warmth of your body curled around him. even your cold feet touching his feet in the middle of the night. 

falling for you was so easy if you like to observe things from a closer perspective. he noticed how you always have something red when you work the night shift and how you have something green at the day shift. he noticed you liked your coffee sweet for normal shifts and how you drink your coffee black at night.

he observes how you treat everyone, how you greet them with a bright smile and the coziest hugs even on your worst day. he could spend hours watching you talk (he does that everytime you pick an online class to teach) or breathe (he watched your sleep like a crazy psycho). 

you’re his person when you grab him coffee without him asking, when you sneak a sweet in the pocket of his scrubs. when you catch his gaze from across the room. when you start rambling about some gossip you heard through dana. when you talk to yourself trying to remember the article you just published.

to be loved is to be seen and he sees you. 

 you’re his person when he knows you’re his. 

he knows you are his girl when you’re sitting in his bed with his shirt and his socks, messy bun, glasses, computer on your lap, cup of tea in the nightstand and his dog laying at your feet waiting for you to move. the comfortable silence. the white noise of the television playing something he lost track of what it was. it’s when he looks at you like you’re his salvation from the darkness. it’s the words that come through his mind when he writes you a letter or a note. 

“i think i’m going crazy.” you whisper looking at him for a second.

“where is this coming from?” he chuckled. 

‘just checking if you agree or not.” you winked and he laughed hard. 

“pretty funny until you start accusing me of madness.” 

“i could never! it was one time, c’mon.” he took your glasses and held your face. 

“you’re the most gorgeous thing i’ve ever seen.” love. that was love from him. 

he doesn’t feel bad showing you who he really is. you’ve seen him, really seen him. you love him for who he is, good baggage or bad. you love his mean remarks, his type of affection. you love how he is quiet. you love how he balances his life going to therapy, talking to someone. you find it funny how he tries to hide a smile when you compliment him. how he flustered when you kiss him in public. how he loves when you bake cookies for him. 

“i loved your brownies. did you put some coffee this time? best one so far. love you. -j”

to be loved is to be seen and you see him. 

it’s the hope of a future he know it’s worth fighting for because you’re his person. you’re his present.

the kind of love that doesn't need words to be there (but he has a ring in his drawer waiting for the right moment). 

[marsprincess889]

Astrology observations

Part 10

1. An interesting difference between Rohini and Mrigashira that I have not seen pointed out is in what they enjoy (in any way): regarding food, for example, Rohini might go for heavier food, meat, sticky sugary sweets, lots of fats, things that are rich with ingredients and are generally of that nature. Mrigashiras might prefer leaves and salads over meat. I think they like dairy but love moderation, and eat way more lightly than Rohinis.

Rohinis don't have much morality when it comes to enjoyment (generally), that might manifest as them not being ashamed to indulge in stuff that might be considered ulhealthy. Mrigashiras, being extremely alert and sensitive to things that Rohini just takes in, wants to analyze what they take in. That's why they might go for "the healthy" options. They also love feeling "light" in a sense of feeling free to move how they want to. That lightnes can sometimes make them feel anxious though, and then they start to crave stability.

2. Jyeshtas are very pure-hearted (let me explain).

As we know, it's a discharging and active placement, so it's free from the "extra" and the unnecessary. It's one if the nakshatras that can be considered "pure" due to its self-reliance and refusal to depend on others. There is a sharpness and a mobility to their essence that stems from deep within their souls, and everything that they touch has that "epic " feel to it.

I'm personally a big fan.

3. To return to a point from my previous observations, Jupiter and Ketu nakshatra people need to be wary of getting swept up be their own "grandiose", especially in serious subjects like guidance, morals and spirituality (in any sense of the word), especially because people tend to naturally listen to and trust them.

Jupiter nakshatra natives love everything "big" and meaningful. Even if they have the best of intentions, they should be mindful to not throw big statements around. They might love to attach meaning to everything, and I mean, anything. Jupiter is endless growth, which can be dangerous when not checked, contrained and/or directed. They are also the "supporters" of others, and their acceptance might lead them to support faulty things.

Ketu people might be prone to ignorance and similar to Jupiter people, they have people looking up to them. While Jupiter is endless growth, Ketu is an endless void. That unwillingness to see past their judgement gives them a self-posessed energy that can be interpreted as superior by the masses, they are often put on pedastels. As always, other influences in the chart play a huge role, as this tendency is significantly reduced when a Ketu person also has Venusian influence (Venus is the materialization of Ketu's spiritual essence, making it grounded and of value), while it can be increased with added Jupiterian influence (this is based on my observations of real-life people).

4. Tiger yonis should try to control their impulses and preserve their energy more. I don't know what the coorelation is, theoretically, between them and that behavior but I've seen it many times in real life. I'm not even saying this in an accusatory tone, because that harms tiger yonis themselves, first and foremost. They might be scattered and all over the place, not knowing what to do with their energy. They're not geared towards natural integration, energetic stability and unity like cow yonis, so they should use their drive to build to control their own impulses. If implemented, I think that they can achieve a lot (they have a drive to provoke, change, build or fix things).

5. Speaking of Cow yonis, they are more sensitive than it looks. They are naturally stoic and self-reliant so you won't notice it unless they casually reveal things that confirm that, because of their own natural tendency to be honest.

6. I've seen Ketu nakshatras really hyped up, whether in online spaces from astrology accounts or in real life. And people really like to talk about them and pay attention to them. I though, this can't be a coincidence, and here's my two cents as to why this might be: I think it all comes down the very nature of Ketu, which is absorbing, heated, passive, unresponsive and unaware. As I've said, I think that inspires admiration from the masses because they're percieved as superior, and when I say "superior", I mean that they get admiration because of anything and everything, not just because of one thing. And while many people might disagree with those who admire them and pour energy into Ketu individuals, it's not a question of whether they're actually deserving of it (they may or may not be, I've seen it go both ways), it's about what makes Ketu people get that kind of attention in the first place. Absolutely crediting Claire Nakti here, because she was right when she said that individuals who are not really integrated within themselves tend to rely on and worship Ketu people. Ketu, as a force, can be really dangerous, and I think people tend to ignore that very real danger. This is not to scare anyone, obviously, but I think if you attribute all kinds of positive or important things to one type of energy you might want to think if that's really true, and why you are percieving it like that.

7. Shravana people are interesting and I think that is not recignized enough!! I think their intellectual and intrapersonal or interpersonal abilities are ignored.

[valeelavvale]

Glitter Heart

featuring : Oscar Piastri/reader; Oscar Piastri/family

summary : (requested by anonim) : Oscar wins again an he celebrates with his loved ones.

genre : romance/family

word count : 909

He could still hear the roar of the crowd outside, it echoed in his ears and it was a wonderful sound.

Oscar had started the season with a slip but, once he regained his balance, he started running like a flash. Two victories one after the other, the top of the championship. It still didn't seem real to him.

"It's not a dream," his girlfriend whispered in his ear, hugging him from behind while he was sitting.

"Come on, repeat it with me: it's really happening," she laughed again.

Oscar laughed shaking his head "I'm still not so sure," he joked.

"Well it is, it seems that on the track you are not the disaster you are at home!" Hattie, the eldest of his sisters, declared.

"Nicea s always Hat..." he replied sticking his tongue out at her.

"Kids!" Oscar's mother's voice echoed behind them "You are too good at putting up with all of us," she laughed at her son's girlfriend shaking her head.

"Oh, I'm used to you by now, Nicole, you know, I feel like part of the clan," y/n laughed amused "When I can, I even participate in the arguments!".

"I don't want to have to start scolding you too!" echoed the woman amused "I prefer when you help me put an end to these guys' arguments."

"I still think that we should swap her with Oscar, leave him at McLaren and keep her as a sister, we all gain," Edie commented without taking her eyes off her phone.

"I don't feel appreciated," Oscar exclaimed loudly.

"I appreciate you a lot," his girlfriend whispered in his ear amused without being heard by the rest of the family.

Oscar laughed, when he brought his parents and siblings along it was always a mess, when it was just y/n it was much quieter, but he had to admit that celebrating a victory with the whole clan, as y/n called it, wasn't so bad.

"Come on, we have a table reserved for dinner soon," she said giving him a kiss on the cheek "And I have to help your sisters choose what to wear first..." she laughed.

"All three? You know I'm jealous of my family lately, you spend much more time with them than with me and it doesn't make me happy," he joked turning his face to look at her.

"You should have seen the shopping I did with your mother this morning..." she laughed amused "Come on, from tomorrow it's just you and me again and we'll go out to celebrate without parents, little sisters..."

"... We can’t go out at all, we can celebrate at home," he smiled amused.

"Let's see how you behave tonight... If you argue with your sisters or not," she joked.

"Or what will you do, put me in time-out?" he teased getting up "I'm going to change," he continued giving her a kiss.

Y/n felt at home in that family, the fact that she had never known her mother and that her father had long been such an inconsistent presence in her life had pushed her to love even more the family atmosphere she breathed with those people.

With Oscar she felt at home, wherever she was, in any hotel, anywhere in the world.

It didn't bother her that his family was very present, that sometimes she had to consider sharing her boyfriend even when she might not have wanted to.

There were moments for them, they always managed to escape the confusion, close themselves at home, lying on the couch talking, watching dozens of episodes of TV series ignoring the phones that kept buzzing with messages.

She liked being the older sister that Hattie, Edie, and Mae pretended to desperately want instead of Oscar, when in reality, they adored no one as much as they adored their brother.

They had built the largest Barbie city in Mae's room, even Oscar once, when they were having lunch at his parents’ house, started playing with it (trying to build a city circuit to make Ken race).

Oscar loved that y/n didn't feel the weight of a family to which he, perhaps, was too attached.

Not that he didn't know how to set limits, but it was difficult to keep his sisters at home when their brother was traveling the world racing in a Formula 1.

-

After dinner, Oscar's parents and sisters had returned to the hotel, mainly to give the winner a break from the girls' chatter and to give him and y/n some time to celebrate the victory of a perfect Grand Prix together.

"In Miami, it will be just you and me," he commented passing an arm over her shoulders and stealing a kiss.

"I don't mind the idea at all, nothing against your family but... Sometimes I like having you just for myself," she smiled.

"When it's too much y/n, tell me..."

"...it's not too much, not now, okay? I love your family and I hope you've noticed how much your family loves me," she joked amused "It's okay like this, you're always traveling the world, I have to share you with so many people, the team, the journalists, the family... Then there's this little piece that remains for me and that I love to death," she smiled as he stopped to give her a kiss.

"I love you," the boy said with that simplicity he always had.

"Me too," y/n replied "And your sister stuck a glitter heart on your back," she laughed before kissing him again "I might have cut it out myself, a sign of my love, right?" she whispered.

"You're worse than them..." he muttered hugging her.

He was happy, really happy.

[sereia4skz]

Hey Sereia,

Just wanted to do a check in with you since it's been a little hectic here after Felix picked me up from the airport. The guys are all pretty cool, there's a total of eight of them, eight! It's crazy chaotic when they're all together. But there's one who's been super sweet and super affectionate since I've gotten here. His name is Changbin and he's a bunny!hybrid, we don't have many bunny!hybrids back in Australia so I know you'd love to meet him because he's such a sweetheart. He's big too which is surprising to me because you'd think being a bunny!hybrid he'd be small and cute. Nope this man is buff and built, his muscles are insane and I see the appeal of having a more muscular, stocky, strong man.

But I have noticed that anytime that I'm either standing close to him or sitting close to him he likes to brush up against me. Sometimes it's quick and barely noticeable but lately he's getting more bold and it's becoming hard for me to not be affected by it. Plus I can feel how hard he gets when he takes his time, it's exhilarating but leaves me shambles afterwards. I don't know if I'm going to make it out of this trip sane Sereia, I really don't. I just want Changbin so badly but don't know how to let him know without making him uncomfortable.

Hopefully Sane When I See You Again,

Kait

1k Followers Event | thump against the counter

pairing: bunny!Changbin x reader

genre: smut

warnings: sweaty boy, dry humping, cumming in pants, nipple play (changbin), semi-public sex (kitchen), quick lino appearance at the end

event masterlist: #1kShootingStars

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Hey Kait,

I’m glad things are going well. I did warn you that living with 8 boys, no matter how short the trip is, would be a little boisterous. 

This bunny boy sounds yummy, respectfully, I think you should go for it as long as it would make you happy. No reason not to have fun while you’re on vacation. It sounds like he’s interested, plus I heard bunny hybrids are a lot of fun (if you know what I mean).

Love, Yaya

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When you woke up it was barely light out. You roll over in the large bed, finding the otherside empty, Felix must not have visited last night. You groaned as you got up, going through the motions to get ready for the day, before making your way out the room. You made your way to the kitchen in search of sustenance. 

The first rays of light beamed through the curtains blowing in the light breeze of the open window. You went to reach for a cup in the cabinets, pouting when you saw them being slightly out of reach in the back. Looking around for a stepstool rendered no findings, so you pushed yourself on the counter, your fingers barely brushing the glass when warm palms rested on your waist. 

“Careful,” a voice came startling you, lips almost brushing your ear. 

You grip the cub bringing it to your chest, before pivoting on the counter to look at the person behind you. Finding yourself face to face Changbin. Your voice left you as you looked at the bunny boy in what you could only assume to be a workout shirt. 

“You shouldn’t climb the counters like that… You could hurt yourself,” he said, soft smile adoring his face. 

You stared for a beat too long, eyes tracing the sweat-darkened hem clinging to the sharp lines of his torso.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Changbin murmured, hands still resting against your waist. He didn’t step back. If anything, he moved closer, the heat of his body settling between your knees as they dangled off the counter. The fresh citrus of his post-gym deodorant mixed with the warm scent of musk and salt clung to him, fogging up your brain.

“Back from the gym?” you managed, eyes flicking up from his chest to meet his gaze.

“Mhm.” His ears twitched slightly. You weren’t sure if it was from exertion or something else. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” you said. “Bed was colder than usual.”

Changbin tilted his head, something unreadable flitting through his expression. “Oh?”

Then, reminiscent of other times you’d be alone with him.

He shifted. Subtle at first, but purposeful. The front of his thighs brushed up against yours, then his hips followed. His arms boxed you in on either side, palms firm on the countertop. It wasn’t quite a rut, but the outline of him pressing between your legs was unmistakable. Your breath caught.

“Bin…” you whispered, your voice shaking slightly. “You’ve been doing this on purpose.”

His eyes dropped, watching your lips. “Doing what?”

“Getting close. Brushing up against me like it’s nothing. But it’s not–” Your fingers clutched the cup still resting against your chest. “I can feel you, you know.”

That last bit made his ears twitch again, more aggressively this time. His nose scrunched, but he didn’t deny it. “You don’t pull away.”

“Because–” You shut your mouth before you could spill something too honest. His gaze was burning now, all shyness buried beneath something primal.

“Feels good,” he finished for you, his voice dropping. “To me too.”

Your thighs parted just a little, involuntarily. He stepped forward, and suddenly he was nestled there, between your legs, nose nearly brushing yours. His hands slid along your thighs, thumbs rubbing soft circles over the thin fabric of your sleep shorts.

“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly. You didn’t.

Instead, you leaned in, catching the corner of his mouth with your lips. His gasp was soft but needy, and when you pulled back, your fingers found the hem of his shirt, pushing it up, palms dragging over his sweat-slick chest. He shuddered.

He took it as the green light, moving the cup between you, putting it on the counter, and kissed you.

It was deep, confident, all tongue and teeth and heat. You moaned into it before you could stop yourself, and he swallowed the sound like it fed him.

“You’re not fair,” you murmured, thumbing over one of his nipples. “You walk around with this chest and act like you don’t know what it does to people.”

He whined, an actual whine, and then buried his face in your neck, grinding slowly, almost desperately. The friction made your thighs tremble. 

“You’re cruel,” he whispered. “You’re so mean to me.”

You tilted your head, teasing. “You’re the one grinding against me in the kitchen.”

“Can’t help it.” His voice cracked, and his hips rocked forward once, slow and filthy. The ridge of him slid against your core through both layers of fabric, enough to make your breath hitch. “You’re warm. You smell. Fuck, you smell so good.”

Your hands slid under his shirt, pushing it up and bunching the fabric around his ribs. His stomach taut beneath your fingers, but it was his chest that had you mesmerized, thick, defined, plush in a way that begged to be touched. You rubbed your palms up and over, letting your thumbs catch both nipples, pressing firmly.

His hand slid up your thigh, rougher now, kneading the soft flesh before dragging your hips closer to the edge of the counter. He rocked into you, slow, heavy, unmistakably deliberate.

“Feel that?” he muttered against your lips, his cock thick and hard behind his sweats. “I’ve been walking around like this since you got here.”

Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering. “You’ve been doing this on purpose.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous. “Of course I have. You make the softest fucking sounds when I press against you.”

He rutted into you again, harder this time, and your hands clutched at his back for balance. “Thought I was imagining it at first,” he continued, lips dragging along your throat, “but then you started leaning into it. Let me touch you a little longer, get a little closer.”

“I liked it,” you admitted, voice tight with heat. “I like it.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “Then take it.”

He caught your hips in both hands and pulled you flush to him, grinding against your soaked core with firm, rolling thrusts that had your eyes rolling back. The counter creaked with every motion. His name tumbled from your lips again and again, matching the rhythm he set.

You arched into him, one hand slipping under his shirt to finally palm at his chest, dragging your nails over the slope of his pecs until your thumb found a nipple again. You circled it, thumbing at it hard.

His breath hitched, just a little, his control slipping. He gritted his teeth and kept going. “You’re fucking filthy, you know that?”

“You like it,” you shot back, squeezing his nipple between your fingers.

“Damn right I do.”

The sounds between you were obscene now, the slide of soaked cloth on cloth, breathy gasps, the dull thud of the counter hitting the wall with each thrust.

“Binnie– gonna– fuck”

He grabbed your face and kissed you again, messy and hot, his thrusts losing rhythm.

“Cum for me,” he growled. “Right here. Let me feel you.”

And you did, legs clenching around him, hips bucking as you came with a cry, clinging to him like he was the only thing tethering you to earth.

He followed with a grunt and a shudder, hips jerking hard one last time as he spilled into his sweats. He stayed there for a beat, panting against your neck. Then…

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling back to see the dark stain on the front of his pants. “Shit.”

And then, like a startled rabbit, he jumped back, ears upright and eyes wide. “I– I have to shower. Sorry!!”

You blinked as he bolted, his ears smacking the doorframe on the way out with a thwack and a yelp. 

You sat there, stunned, a mess between your legs. The kitchen smelled like sex, downright sinful. 

Then came padded steps. You turned your head just in time to see Minho saunter in, already looking mildly annoyed.

“Oh good,” he said flatly, “you’re up.”

You flushed as the catboy sniffed the air.

“Bunny boy left his scent all over,” Minho muttered, tail flicking as he grabbed a pan. “Next time, tell him to clean my kitchen at least.”

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taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here

[fakeagatha]

Hi, could you write something with more submissive Agatha? Not like sexually as I know you don’t write that, but maybe needing the reader to take control of some aspects of her life and take care of her because she feels like there’s so much pressure on her and doesn’t want to be in control of everything? Thank you!

A/N: Thanks for the request anon! I assume you mean x reader so that's what I did. I hope this is okay!

Summary: During one of the weakly catch ups with your neighbor, you notice she seems off. You let her lose control for the night and take care of her.

Warnings: Intimacy, Romance, Bathing, Massaging

Word Count: 1712

AAA Community

Agatha was exhausted. 

One thing that Agatha was taught, is that she must be able to take care of herself. She should never rely on others, because that would make her weak and easily breakable.

She met you a few months ago after you moved in next door. You were much younger than her, and you claimed to have moved to New Jersey for new life experiences and opportunities.

The house next door was never lived in long term. It felt as in every month Agatha saw a moving truck, taking away furniture, then a couple days later it was bringing new boxes. One unbearable family with obnoxious children after the other.

When she saw you walking in with your suitcase, she was expecting a husband, or maybe a child to follow behind, but when one week passed and she saw that no other people appeared, she was intrigued. Your house was practically identical to hers, meaning there were three bedrooms. Why would you want all that space? She was nosy.

It started when you heard a sudden knock on your door one afternoon, disrupting you from the  shelf you were dusting. You sighed and stood up, looking through the peephole to see some random woman holding a plate.

You opened the door, looking at her expectantly, "Hello?"

"Hello dear, I'm Agatha, I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood." She smiled, handing out a plate of cookies.

You smirked, a week late? You raised an eyebrow, taking the plate from her, "Thank you. Would you like to come in?" You offered, and Agatha nodded.

"Absolutely!"

So that is how your weakly routine started. At least once a week, Agatha would come round to yours, or you would go next door, have dinner with a glass of wine and maybe watch a movie. It was fun, considering that you hadn't really met any people. You went to work in the mornings, and usually spent your evenings at home.

Friday night, Agatha had invited you over. She had cooked a wonderful risotto which must've taken her hours to make, served with a glass of red wine.

"This is delicious Agatha, thank you, you didn't have to do this." You smiled, taking another mouthful of food.

"It's no problem at all dear, my pleasure."

The rest of the meal was pleasant. You and Agatha exchanged short conversations up until she collected your empty plates and put them in the dishwasher. She insisted she needed no help cleaning up, so you waited for her in the living room.

It only took her a few minutes for her to join you on the couch, taking the remote and looking through Netflix for something to watch with you. You looked over at her, and noticed an unusual tiredness in her eyes.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Agatha turned to you, confusion elicited on her face, "Yeah, why?"

"I don't know, you seem tired." You shrugged, your gaze unmoving. 

She chuckled, then paused again, "I mean, I'm a little tired sure, but so is everyone else on the planet." 

Your brows furrowed, shaking your head, "What's going on?"

Agatha went to brush you off again, but her eyes locked on yours. "I just- I'm burnt out. I feel like there's not enough time in my day to do things." She sighed, "Sometimes it feels like my life is slowly falling apart. Almost as if I'm falling into some kind of spiral with no end." 

Agatha looked away from you, but you kept staring, "You could've told me if you were struggling, you know? I could've helped, even if that's doing some house work for you."

Agatha scoffed, shaking her head again, "I'd never ask you to clean my house."

"Then at least let me make you feel better."

Agatha froze, then sighed, "You don't need to, don't worry about it."

"No," You crawled closer to her, "Let yourself lose control for a little while."

Agatha frowned, biting her lip. She hated being vulnerable, and she hated relying on other people. Before she could protest again, you took her by the shoulders and turned her around carefully.

"What are-" She begun, and was cut off as she felt your hands massaging her. She closed her eyes, and let out an almost defeated sigh.

"I've seen how you always like to do everything. Most weeks, you insist on being the one to cook for us even after your eight hour shift."

"You also work eight hours." Agatha replied, and you chuckled.

"Yeah, but I work mornings. I have the rest of the day to relax, and then cook. You come home and insist on cooking right away."

She sighed again, pursing her lips, "I can't win against you, huh?"

"Nope." You smirked.

You kept massaging her shoulders, and she let out quiet sounds of pleasure every now and then. You could feel the tension in her muscles, and you worked your way through each one carefully.

"I know," You started, "I'll run you a bath." You stood up, and Agatha's eyes widened.

"What? No, I can't expect-"

You placed a finger to her lips, instantly silencing her. You shyly took her hand, and lead her to bathroom.

You stepped closer to the bathtub and turned on the tap. "Is this temperature okay?"

Agatha stood next to you and put her hand under the running water, "Perfect."

The tub filled surprisingly fast, but you didn't notice the linger of purple sparks, "That's not fair, your tap must be stronger than mine." You chuckled.

Agatha smirked, shrugging, "What can I say? Maybe my tap is magical."

You laughed again, taking a bubble mix and poured it in. Agatha gasped, "Bubbles? Seriously?"

"Yeah! Why not?" You grinned at her, "Right, I'll step outside so you can get in."

"Thank you."

You walked back into the hallway, closing the door behind you. You took a glance around her house, noticing the minimal and vintage looking decorations. You noticed a child's drawing on the back of a door, and you inspected it a little closer. It looked like two women holding the hands of a younger person, standing outside of a house. You smiled a little, wondering who might have drawn that for her.

"I'm ready!" Agatha called out, and your head whipped back around.

"You sure you want me in there with you?" You asked cautiously.

Agatha nodded, even though you couldn't see it, "Yeah."

You stepped back into the bathroom, and knelt down next to the tub, trying not to really look at her, "You sure it's warm enough?"

"I'm sure." She nodded, "Thank you, Y/N."

You smiled back at her, and your gaze moved to a basket filled with bath bombs.

"Do you want one of these?" You asked eagerly, and Agatha nodded in agreement.

You looked through the basket and pulled out a cherry scented one. You unwrapped it, and held it up to Agatha to see before dropping it into the tub.

Agatha watched as the color began to spread through the water, turning it completely red.

"Jeez, how strong are these?" You chuckled, "It smells great."

Agatha hummed, inhaling, "Yeah. I make sure to get the best kind."

You smiled at her, taking a look the things she had placed along the walls of the bathtub. Agatha bit her lip, looking up at you. "... Could you... Wash my hair?"

You froze for a second and your face heated up, but you nodded. "Of course."

Agatha smiled and turned around as you picked up a vanilla scented shampoo. You placed it down next to you, and you started scooping up some water in your hands and wetting her hair while she leaned her head back. You opened up the bottle and poured some shampoo into your palm, before starting to run the soap through Agatha's hair from top to bottom.

You could hear Agatha's heavy breathing the entire time. Neither of you spoke, and just enjoyed each other's silence. You were convinced Agatha could probably fall asleep with her head up with how much she seemed to like it.

Once her hair was completely lathered with soap, you took the shower head and turned it onto a low power, carefully rinsing her hair. "Keep your eyes closed." You reminded, and she nodded slightly.

You washed everything out, making sure to avoid getting anything in her eyes. Once it was completely rinsed, Agatha turned back around to face you, smiling softly. "Thank you..."

"There's no need to thank me." You replied, your gaze lingering on her for a moment.

Agatha suddenly put her hand on your cheek, leaning closer as if asking for permission, which you responded by pressing your lips against hers. They were surprisingly soft, a sense of longing radiating off of her.

She pulled away looking into your eyes with a slight blush. "Do you want to spend the night here?" Her breath hitched, and you matched her blush.

"Yeah, I'd love that."

Agatha smiled, then signaled that she was ready to come out of the bath. You stepped out of the room once again, and waited for her in her living room. You were smiling to yourself, having a strange feeling that you might have been dreaming.

Agatha came out a few minutes later in pajamas, but she was holding a second pair. "Do you want to change? Or would you rather go and get your own pair?"

Your heart swelled at her, and you accepted the clothes. Your fingers grazed her arm as you took them, and quickly changed out of your clothes in her bathroom.

By the time you came back out, Agatha called you from upstairs, "I'm in here!"

You grinned, walking up the stairs and peeking through each door to find her bedroom. When you did, she was already in bed, a remote in her hand.

"You never said you had a television up here too." You smirked, climbing into the bed next to her.

She chuckled and nodded, shuffling closer to you. She went to wrap an arm around you, but you stopped her, wrapping yours around her instead. She leaned into you, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Thank you for tonight... I needed it."

You silently placed a kiss on her cheek in return, as she pressed play on a movie she had chosen.

Agatha was tired.

Though she tried to stay conscious for the whole film, she ended up falling asleep on your chest. You smiled as you watched her for a moment, and she looked truly at peace. You turned the volume down slightly, and it didn't take much longer for you to fall asleep with Agatha in your arms.

[buckybabybaby]

puzzle pieces

A/N: Just a very short piece of mostly fluff for my favourite new falcon <3 All the avengers are still alive in this au, not very relevant to the plot but I miss them, so.

Can be read as the same relationship as in first and last if you want.

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x reader (gender neutral)

Plot: Joaquín reassures you when you feel out of place at a party.

Warnings: very mild angst

(fluff, established relationship, self doubting reader, reassuring Joaquín, background Sambuckysteve - mentioned once, bff Bucky)

Word count: 1.3k

Masterlist

AO3

***

You have made a mistake. When Joaquín invited you out this evening, to a party, you thought it would be a lot more formal than this, and so you dressed to fit the occasion.

It's an easy assumption to make. Joaquín gets invited to all sorts of events, and the avengers own parties can rival the biggest film premieres and award shows in terms of dresses and suits, so you didn't want to turn up and be mistaken for press, or worse, a crazy fan.

Seeing everyone in their t-shirts and jeans has you stopping short in the entrance, your outfit choice suddenly feeling ridiculous.

You want to leave but Joaquín spots you before you can make a break for it. Waving to you as he takes a last swig of his drink, he claps his friend on the back and makes his way over. As he approaches his smile turns bemused, taking in your outfit.

"You get a better offer, mi amor?" He calls across as he squeezes through the crowd. "Ditching me for something fancier?"

Leaning in to kiss you when he arrives, you struggle not to freeze up and reject him. He takes your hands from where you've crossed your arms and pulls them out to get a good look at what you're wearing.

"Should I buy you a corsage? You look like you're going to prom!" He laughs.

"Don't, Joaquín." You whine, tears welling up in your eyes. "You said it was a party. I wasn't expecting Tony's galas level of dress up, but something closer to that than this."

"Clearly, my pretty pretty baby."

He tries to kiss you again but this time you do pull away. That's when he takes a second to really read your body language, your frown, wet eyes, hunched posture.

His own demeanour changes, softly taking your hand again. "Let's go sit, okay?"

He leads you away from the crowd over to the far side of the bonfire. Pulling you down with your legs over his, he holds you close as you look around the party, at all the carefree people, how different they are from you.

How different you are from Joaquín.

The old doubts come to the surface again and you sigh. "Why are you with me, Joaquín?"

He looks horrified at the out of the blue question. "Sweetheart, what?"

"I'm useless. I can't even work out the dress code correctly for a simple party."

"You're the most beautiful person here, that's not a bad thing."

"But it's more than that." Your voice breaks but you push through. "I always stick out. It takes it all out of me to even get here, let alone interact with others. While for you, it's easy, natural. Don't you want someone who can match that? Someone who doesn't need a weeks notice to prepare themselves to be social?"

Joaquín shakes his head through your whole speech, and as soon as you finish he presses a quick kiss to your lips.

"Nope." He states simply. "The way I look at it, you don't need to be the same to fit together. Like puzzle pieces. We work because we're different. Imagine how tired I'd be if I didn't have someone like you to remind me to chill? To take a break?"

He kisses your forehead this time.

"And I like to think I help you get out of your head sometimes. You always enjoy these parties even if you don't want to go to each and every one, yeah?"

You nod, letting a few tears fall.

"So try to remember that," He finishes, dabbing at your eyes gently. "You keep me calm in this crazy world. I don't want anything else."

Joaquín always knows the right word to say. He also knows when to let you sit quietly, enjoying his company and warmth, admiring how good he looks tonight, skin glowing and curls fluffed out in the way you love.

"Sorry for being silly." You say eventually.

"Never silly, my pretty." He squeezes your waist. "Especially pretty today. If this was a gala you'd be the prettiest, best dressed person there. This outfit is very old school glamour isn't it?" He looks you up and down again, finally clocking your choice of footwear. "Apart from the trainers. I haven't seen these before?"

"They're new."

"I can tell, they are fresh. I need sunglasses looking at them."

You laugh, his efforts to cheer you up working.

"Are you okay to stay?"

Humming in agreement, you add, "Just a little cold. I thought it'd be more inside than this."

"All right, how about this. I get you a plate of all your favourites, and-" Joaquín scans the crowd. "Oh, there's our favourite anti-social super solider. Wanna go keep him company? And I'll find you a sweater."

You look where he's pointing, at Bucky who is sat alone on the opposite side the pit, nursing a beer you know has no effect.

Nodding, you let him press a longer kiss to your lips before he bounces off, making you giggle at how full of energy he is.

Scooting around the edge of the fire, you wave to Bucky as you get near and he stands to pull you into a hug.

"Hey, glad you made it."

You snort. "Only just. And looking like I missed a turn on the way to the Oscars."

"Nah, you look good. Better to be over dressed than under, I think."

Bucky brings you to sit close, watching you carefully for a moment.

"Don't doubt how good you are for Joaquín, okay?" He says, tone serious. "That boy adores you as you are. You don't need to be anything more for him."

You blink at him, surprised. "Did you hear?"

"Not on purpose. Super solider hearing is a curse sometimes, sorry."

"It's okay." You give him a small smile. "Thank you for saying that."

"Only because it's true. Like he said, I don't want to think how much more insufferable he'd be if you weren't able to rein him in at times."

Bucky being playful is a rare sight and you laugh in delight at his faux insult. "Speaking of annoying boyfriends, where's yours?"

"Over there."

He gestures to the ping pong tables, where Sam and Steve are playing some sort of drinking game with a few others you don't recognise. The rules seem unclear even for those partaking, Sam looking a lot more gone than anyone else and half hanging off Steve as he cackles loudly.

"I'm leaving them to it for now."

"Sensible." You say, remembering all the times you've sat with Bucky, watching your boyfriends cause mayhem together before eventually intervening to advert disaster. You wouldn't be surprised if tonight ends in a similar way.

Joaquín returns, placing two full plates on the table and draping the sweater he found over your shoulders. The scent of his cologne washes over you and you snuggle into it, letting Joaquín wrap you up in his embrace and offer you the first bite of food.

"This all for me?" You ask once you've finished chewing.

"Too much? I wanted you to have a bit of everything. Sam's sister Sarah provided a lot so you know it's going to be good." He gets another fork full ready, adding, "Anything you don't want I'll have."

He goes to feed you again and you try to protest, taking the cutlery yourself. He takes it back just as quick.

"Let me, please."

Typical Joaquín, always looking after you. Your heart warms, but you still ask, "Don't you want to go back to your friends?"

"I am with friends. As much as Bucky likes to pretend otherwise."

Bucky looks like he's going to object, giving up and admitting dryly to you, "I'm warming to him."

"Ha!" Joaquín almost jumps out of his seat, only held back by being entangled with you. "From Bucky that is practically a confession of love."

"Don't push your luck kid."

Bucky hides his smile behind his bottle, you own growing as you watch them together.

However this night started, you're glad you stayed. In the glow from the soft fairy lights, Joaquín sends you a look that says he will always be there, like your matching puzzle piece, stuck together through it all.

***

Thank you for reading!

Masterlist

[ro-is-futile]

Okay. I'm also not talking about character deaths as events that happen in a bubble. Also why I said "Rafe's choice to kill Siuan."

I fully understand that there are many variables that go into character deaths. Like Rafe said he didn't want to keep Sophie around just for a limited story line, which...

But we as fans are also allowed to critique writers and not pretend that every choice is a stroke of artistic genius. Sometimes it's scheduling conflicts, sometimes it's a shortsighted decision on the writer's part. And sometimes writers are products of their environment and are re-affirming cultural biases.

Like, let's really get into it...

The finale was well-written, yes. But there are patterns in the characters Rafe chooses to kill off. I'm not the only fan to point out that Black characters are often the first to get the bullet with Rafe. I watched one (1) episode with my mom and she pointed that out lol, she pointed that out so quickly, because she's used to it.

Black and queer fans are allowed to point things like this out. It has to do with the amount of respect the writer has for the actors.

Like if Rafe really wanted to, he could've kept Sophie around. He could've given her at least a couple scenes with Siuan acting as a mentor to Egwene-- a lot of characters had less screen time this season as they introduce more characters and weave in more story lines. Rafe just didn't want to...

He justified it as more meaningful to give her a death that helped Moiraine win her fight w/ Lanfear.

But I'll tell you right now, ya'll can scream at me about how meaningful that death was. I still think her alive would've been more meaningful than her death.

You want to talk about semiotics? Let's talk about Black death. Let's talk about the cultural significance of Black deaths. Let's talk about how Black deaths are more valuable than Black lives. I'm not going to open that can of worms right now, lol, but do not fix your mouth to tell me how the death of a Black character is some divinely inspired writing decision, when it's the most tired trope to still rear its ugly head.

Want to know more about the symbolism of Black death? SHARPE, C. (2016). In the Wake: On Blackness and Being. Duke University Press. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv1134g6v

SNORTON, C. R. (2017). A NIGHTMARISH SILHOUETTE: RACIALIZATION AND THE LONG EXPOSURE OF TRANSITION. In Black on Both Sides: A Racial History of Trans Identity (pp. 139–176). University of Minnesota Press. https://doi.org/10.5749/j.ctt1pwt7dz.8

Kerene, Lewin's friend, Ihvon and now Siuan, these are all characters played by Black actors who Rafe killed off to advance a white character's arc.

Like let's not play dumb. I liked Alanna and Maksim's story line this season. But there's a reason why Ihvon's death was the death to catalyze changes in their relationship, and why Maksim got to stay on, and why he got more screen time than a character in his narrative position should (Maksim's actor is Rafe's boyfriend). Like omg writers are not infallible and above reproach. They are human just like the rest of us, and as such, slaves to their biases.

Like yes Rafe wrote a beautiful and meaningful storyline for Maksim. But Idk, he could've also probably wrote a beautiful and meaningful story for Ihvon. We'll never know now because Ihvon is dead.

I, as a Black fan, am allowed to notice these choices, understand that they don't occur in a vacuum, and critique the writer. Don't cast characters w/ Black actors just to get your representation points off then discard the character when that narrative beat has been hit. That feels worse to me as a Black viewer than to have never casted a Black actor in the first place. It's a lack of respect for Black actors.

And back to the bury your gays trope. No, it doesn't always have to be a hate crime. But I can think of shows with predominantly queer casts who have also been guilty of this. What it really boils down to, is is it easier to write this queer character off than to develop the storyline?

Yes the context matters, but having a queer cast doesn't mean a show can't be guilty of bury your gays.

Pose, for example, was a show with an almost entirely queer cast. It still felt shitty though when they killed off Candy, one of the only dark skin queens, just to bring her back for a couple episodes as a ghost. There was no need to kill her. It was just easier for the writers to kill her than to develop her storyline. That can still be bury your gays even in a sea of queer characters. Izzy from OFMD is another example.

Like... again... I'm done debating Rafe's choice to kill Siuan. Schrodinger's bury your gays. But Black and/or lesbian fans are still allowed to critique Rafe's decision and remark that it felt shitty.

Bury your gays isn't just about how the narrative treats queer characters before their death. It's also about how this culture and society values queer characters less than hetero characters, and as such, writers are less willing to put the work into developing queer story lines. Writers will have a queer character and get a cookie, and who cares if the character is killed because at least they showed face. Writers get to be lazy about queer characters and get rewarded for it. Like woohoo, the narrative was so nice and sweet to the gay before it killed them, that's ya'll, that's how ya'll sound.

I'm not just talking about Rafe here, I'm talking about most writers.

It's always been about how queer characters are valued less than hetero characters. Similar to how Black characters are valued less than white characters. It's almost like our society itself values Black people less than white people, and our pop culture reflects that... It's almost like our society itself values queer people less than hetero people, and our pop culture reflects that...

But I point out cultural biases and I'm getting tomatoes thrown at me and booed off the stage. We didn't fall out of a coconut tree, we exist in a context.

I'm over it at this point, but yes fans are allowed to critique writers. And acknowledge that some writing decisions are writers' biases coming through.

My ancestors roll in their grave every time someone suggests that a Black character's death is more meaningful than their life would've been. Like that's a serious cultural blind spot that I need white fans to investigate post haste. How ya'll interact with Black characters is telling. Black lives are actually more meaningful than Black deaths I promise. Unlearn whatever indoctrination that is. And I'm supposed to grovel at Rafe's feet because he killed Siuan in a "meaningful" way. Cool.

I understand that Siuan's death hurt and it's a tragedy, and we all wish she could have a happy ending, but please...

It's not Bury Your Gays if it's a political execution following a coup that had everything to do with power (and the plot) and nothing to do with her queerness

It's not for shock value if it's been foreshadowed through the whole season if you had paid attention to what you were being shown and not just what you want to see

WOT is full of characters who happen to be queer instead of it being their sole defining trait, more than most shows out there, so let's stop reducing Siuan Sanche to her queerness

She was a complex multifaceted character and sometimes characters die

[forsaken-headcanons]

GLITCHED ANON IS BACK AFTER LIKE 800 DECADES

ANYWAYS 007 HCS LETS GO

-He bottles up his emotions. A lot. And by that, I mean he completely shuts down and will not move, eat, speak, anything after bad rounds and literally the only thing that would snap him out of it is either a new round starting or slapping him.

-He has nerve damage in his arms from after effects of hacking.

-His hands and arms have various scars that are coolgui colored.

-Any scars during/post forsaken will scar weird, aka they’ll be coolgui colored.

-Noli WANTS that cookie. BAD. Aka, he’s been trying to convince 007 to ‘talk with him’ and join the killers, as well as regress back into his hacking habits. This has affected his image in some survivors eyes(both good and bad).

-Has HORRIBLE anxiety. During his hacking days it was centered around someone being out to get him or getting banned, when raising coolkid it was about coolkidd getting hurt or his past causing harm to coolkidd, and forsaken its. Basically everything. All of the above.

-His glasses are cracked and missing parts of the lenses, but he doesn’t care. He knows that they don’t have enough supplies and he doesn’t ’want to bother anyone’.

-When stressed, the Coolgui starts to act up, messing with his teleportation in forsaken(on rare occasions, he was sent out of the map.) and his Coolgui’d scars start to glow.

-He had BAD sleep problems, he rarely ever sleeps and when he does it’s plagued with nightmares.

-If needed(aka if they’re running low on food), he will purposely not eat and lie about eating. Its habit from when he was raising coolkidd and food was scarce. To his knowledge, no one has caught on.(Elliot is suspicious, as well as guest, but neither really. See him eat, as he often eats in his room/cabin).

-Sometimes he takes stuff from the generators to help BM get supplies for the sentries and dispensers, as well as fix stuff around the cabin + try and fix the coolgui to get them out of there.

-Noob is the youngest of the survivors(my HC) and sometimes it activates 007 and guests fatherly instincts, aka they both try to protect noob, just in diff ways.

-007 often fixes small things around the cabin when he can.

-eyebags. He has eyebags deeper than the Mariana Trench/silly

-He has a constant burning sensation in his limbs whenever he uses the Coolgui, it gets worse after rounds or if it’s a round with coolkidd.

-The noob on his hat can purr, and often jumps off his hat to try and comfort 007 when he’s overwhelmed or panicking. Sometimes he sends it to other survivors to comfort them.

-He is an EXPERT at fixing/making clothes, it saved money to not buy new ones.

-He’s tried to start a garden pre forsaken, but with a lack of time, the plants started to die, as well as his hacking giving him the downside of accidentally slowly killing plants the longer he interacts with them

-idk if i said it before but, 007 is trying to use the Coolgui in tiny ways the spectre doesn’t care about to make life better/easier for the survivors, as well as trying to grow a sustainable food source. It causes harm to him each time he uses the Coolgui outside of his ability.

-One time, when trying to get the plants to grow, the Coolgui freaked out due to his frustration and killed the plants and knocked him out, maybe even making a small explosion, one of the survivors were sent to check on him and promptly had a heart attack finding a glitching 0l7, this is also when his little gardening attempts were discovered.

-allergic to shrimp

OK GLITCHED ANON OUT

Ohhh!!! These are all so amazing and neat!

These headcanons actually fit so much with 007n7! Really awesome to read through, and some were even close to my very own!! 007n7 is such a little fella, I think I'm actually starting to like him with the amount of asks and headcanon there are of him :~]

See you in another 800 decades, Glitched anon! /j

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 28/04

@worldweary-walker asked: Dad Egbert's genre friction with Homestuck is fun. He is about Serious Business… but he can take a joke! He has the very efficient Wallet Modus, but used a safe to store the note. A man of contrasts. A man of mystery…

Genuinely, the fact that he legitimately was a prankster despite his normie aesthetic is one of my favourite things about the man. Let's hope Dad Crocker is the same.

Anonymous asked: now that you've met her, the final Namco High character is Jane. you still can't play Namco High yet (I think the collection will automatically inform you when it's no longer spoilers) but soon. soon.

The fact that Namco High might actually include plot spoilers for Homestuck is hilarious.

In lieu of evidence to the contrary, I'm going to assume it's the only piece of Homestuck-adjacent media which actually explains the Aspects.

@honestlyvan asked: I hope whatever is going on with you is easygoing, and you don't feel too pressed about this side-project, tbh. I would also rather you take your time with it and enjoy yourself. @marineofthestars asked: 13/04? @gl1tchypyr0 asked: Are you planning anything for 4/13 because Homestuck day? Anonymous asked: so happy you're back! @ramdomartkid asked: Happy 4/13!!!!!!

Thank you - happy to be back!

Don't worry too much about the recent hiatuses - none of them have been prompted by anything serious. Sometimes, I'm just excessively busy, and need to catch my breath a little!

Anonymous asked: rereading your archive, dropping in a couple of my personal miscellaneous voice hc's while im here! John: Abed Nadir (Community) Feferi: Mabel Pines (Gravity Falls) Doc Scratch: The Narrator (The Stanley Parable)

Doc Scratch as the Narrator is inspired, and Mabel fits Feferi surprisingly well.

I've still never seen Community - and, in fact, I'm not sure I even know what it's about. I know about the pizza meme, of course, and I think they play Dungeons and Dragons at one point?

Anonymous asked: Is Sally being introduced to in-fandom memes at the point in the comic where they would have been popular, or are we just going off when they stop being spoilers?

(More the latter. If people want to spread the memes around, then as long as it isn't a spoiler, it gets a pass. And frankly, the two are usually pretty close together. - Vamp)

Yeah, what usually happens with Homestuck's major memes - Pantskat, for example - is that I'll get several asks referencing it immediately after it stops being a spoiler. My spoiler policy being what it is, I'm generally made aware of them during my next ask session after the fact!

@semaphoricwave asked: Hypothetically, if somebody wanted to write a fic about your trollsona's dancestor, would that spark joy or would you rather the hypothetical somebody didn't? The story you've laid out is fascinating and I (I mean, the hypothetical somebody) would really enjoy digging into it, but I also understand if that's not something you'd be interested in people doing with your trollsonas. Also follow-up in case it does spark joy: any other facts about Sahlee Senior that would be of interest to that hypothetical somebody? Either way hope you have a good week!

Absolutely! I'd be thrilled to read any fics involving my OCs. I've DMed you a short character profile on the Hostess that you can use for reference - and if you have any specific questions, feel free to ping me!

Anonymous asked: Just r3ad thr0ugh y0ur liv3bl0g, and I want3d t0 say h0w much I l0v3d r3ading it. Sup3r happy y0u d3cid3d t0 try 0ut th3 3pil0gu3s as well!¡! @heattth asked: I just wanted to say, I've been rereading the whole liveblog and it is a very fun experience. Thank you for having written it.

Thanks a bunch - it's always nice to get messages like this.

Seeing a post's note counter go up is a very abstract way to get feedback. Like, I'm aware that a ton of people are reading (and hopefully, enjoying) the posts, but it's still hard to conceptualize - so asks like this are a great way to make it feel real. I can see irrefutable evidence that people really are having a good time on TheWertsearch dot com, which is all I really ask for.

@mhafanlol2000 asked: Do you think about how Dave and Rose’s prophesied hero’s journeys both ended in suicide. What do you think that says about them? If I have to constantly think about this then so do you.

I think what it says the most is that Sburb loves suicide. It's the default way to achieve the God Tier, after all, and according to Terezi, the game actively wants the children who play it to wrestle with their own mortality.

This, to me, is one of the most explicitly malicious aspects of the game. It's really not necessary to achieve Skaia's stated goals, and I'm unconvinced that traumatizing these children makes them more effective custodians of a universe.

@caliquill asked: dropping in to say - jane is maybe my favourite homestuck character so it brings me great joy to see you cracking at her flaws in a genuine manner. thank you :]

Jane's great so far. She's not a carbon copy of John - and, honestly, she feels like the most unique of the B2 kids so far.

Hussie already had a framework to build on with Dirk, Roxy and Jake, but Nannasprite's main traits were 'grandma', 'ghost', and 'clown', none of which should logically transfer to Jane. She had to be mostly original.

@spiddermen asked: bowman just released a new track for the 16th anniversary! it's awesome and doesnt have any spoilies, it's called on the thirteenth day

Ooh, I'd love to give it a listen!

If anyone can link me a non-spoilery upload of the song, I'd appreciate it. YouTube and Bandcamp are both danger zones, and I'm not sure where else you might find it.

@faggoatquixote asked: “GT: Right o! If a man believes hard enough in imaginary things then i dare say that makes them slightly less fake!” Sounds a lot like talk from another Page boy I know… Rufio anyone?

Which is kind of weird, right?

I assumed Jake's 'belief' schtick was due to him being a Hope Player - but Tavros has said some similar things, and he shares Jake's class, rather than his aspect.

I suppose not every character trait has to be informed by a Player's Title. After all, Jade used to be defined by her clairvoyance, and she's no Seer.

@bellcarved asked: In defense of Jake, he lives alone on an island and has literally run out of people to talk to about this (unless he were to do something like ask Jane to hand her phone to her father and got advice from him)

Oh, for sure. Everything these kids are doing wrong is totally understandable, due to their frankly bizarre home lives - and Jake, in particular, appears to have been living completely alone on that island for some time, which is bound to stunt the guy's social development.

In retrospect, I'm kind of surprised that Jade turned out as well as she did.

@bladekindeyewear asked: And as expected, Kid Bro's hair is ALSO a bird, just a different one than Dave's.

Dirk's just trying to blend in with the local fauna, like his brother before him.

@elkian asked: A fun fandom trend is to give the ectogroups portmanteau names. "Strilondes" was pretty easy, but the Prospit quartet presents some difficulties and is usually an unholy amalgamation along the lines of "Crockerberts" "Harlenglishes" and the ambitious combination of all four like "Harlegbercrockerenglishes" and so on. (I feel like there was a particular one with a lot of staying power but can't recall it exactly.) There's still Reddit threads of the debates around here and there.

This is why I just call 'em the Prospit squad.

I tried to make something that's at least pronounceable, and came up with the Harkersherts. Not a lot of English in there, though.

Anonymous asked: "and I’d bet Boondollars to donuts that Jake and Roxy have 'em too." Come on, 'boondollars to bronuts' was right there.

Damn it! I really do need to step up my bro-punning now that our second Strider has entered the story.

@ben-guy asked: (in regards to your theory about B2 Dave having memory leaks possibly making him interested in Con Air) "something about an old friend" Emphasis on the "old" in this timeline lmao

Oh, good point. It is possible that Dave could have met Poppop Crocker at some point, especially if he was in contact with his Seer sister.

Maybe it wasn't his pre-Scratch memories. Maybe he learned about Con Air directly from the source, after all. <3

Anonymous asked: ”Kneel before Cal” Lil’ dude even if you don’t Know. That’s hella ominous yo

Dirk feels like the kind of guy who doesn't realize how foreboding some of his sentences actually are. He'd do numbers on Tumblr, and you know it.

...I guess, technically, he has done numbers on Tumblr. lmao

@elkian asked: Jane-Dirk is genuinely one of my favorite character dynamics in the entire comic so I'm delighted that they're resonating with you, too! Their conversations are so fun.

Yup! As I said, I'm really happy that Jane, in particular, is not just a remix of John. The way she relates to her friends is quite different from anything we've seen from Egbert - or anyone else, for that matter.

I really hope that this friend group doesn't collapse into some sort of nightmare love quadrangle, because I really am enjoying these dynamics, and I want to see more.

Anonymous asked: Do you think that when you are done for the day you could note that? Maybe as a tag or something? Then people would know to stop checking to see if you add another post?

I would, but the problem is that I never really know if I'm actually done for the day - not until the day is already over. See, I usually just liveblog until I get distracted, and often return later in the evening for a second round - that is, if I haven't fallen asleep before I've had the chance. Perils of ADHD, I guess.

I suppose I could add such a tag the day after a liveblogging session, but that sounds like it'd be too late to be useful for your use case. :/

Anonymous asked: Okay, so Lil' Bro gave both Jake the Brobot, and Jane Sebastian. What do you think Roxy's inevitable robo-buddy will be like?

There is absolutely no universe in which it isn't a cat.

Anonymous asked: Sorry about the spoiler! A while ago, I did some testing on YouTube and incognito mode because I was curious, and I found that, unfortunately, Google isn't fooled by it. YouTube's algorithm definitely prioritizes things you watch in normal mode, presumably to be subtle about this, but it also definitely knows what you watch in incognito. The effect becomes more obvious with an account that watches zero or very few videos in normal mode. (I tested this 3-4 years ago, so I can't say for certain that the specifics haven't changed, but I don't see why they'd have stopped doing this since then.)

Targeting algorithms are just too damn good these days. All I can really do is avoid watching Homestuck videos on my main account, employ a VPN, and hope for the best.

Anonymous asked: More like DORK strider

Fuckin' get him!

@mrjocrafter asked: I mean, you did get this three months ago

Those names were listed in order of likelihood - so yes, I expected it to be Dick. I really did.

Dick Strider seemed like exactly the kind of move Hussie would pull...

@library-seraph asked: Fun fact: when Dirk's name hit the comic, people were upset it wasn't Dick. Hussie still used tumblr back then, so they made a post saying that, as a small dagger, dirk is still a dick joke, and they're annoyed people would want them to go for the lowest hanging dick joke Anonymous asked: You're not alone. A significant majority of the fandom at the time also expected "Dick", enough that Hussie actually addressed it by saying that would have been too on-the-nose. IIRC, Hussie also described "Dirk Strider" as sounding more like a male porn star's stage name, while clearly implying that this is a major upside.

...but I suppose that's exactly why they didn't.

Low-hanging fruit is all well and good, but you can't always choose the path of least resistance, or your story will just keep getting flatter.

@shelbybunny asked: remember this post you made when you liveblogged jack: ascend, and how you wished they had a poster of that sburb shot? well good news PS: i’m pretty sure you can take a look at the full store now, but i’d have someone double-check just in case

(The store is, in fact, spoiler-free now. - V)

Oh, hell yeah!

I'm not going to pretend I'm not tempted - and not just by the poster, either. Those captchalogue boards look great, too.

In order to preserve just a little bit of hope for myself, I'm not going to look up the shipping costs to Europe until tomorrow.

@clueless-rarito asked: While Dave rambles fells a lot like a stream of consciousness that just spills out randomly in the middle of conversations, Dirk's fell extremely intentional and precisely deployed, make you fell he meticulously choose each word to be as full of complete bullshit as humanly possible.

Turns out, Rose and Dave's vibes blend together almost seamlessly. I could probably have told you they would beforehand, but it's still great to see it in action!

@sanctferum asked: Heiress Sans Parent could just refer to Jane's ectobiological origins as a true paradox rather than the beta kids who have ectobiological parents. (The alpha kids are clones of themselves, after all.) Well, either a reference to that or a hint that Dad Crocker is secretly a funny skeleton man.

It better be something like that. If Dad dies again, I'm ragequitting.

@aceotaku asked: when it comes to Jane's scepticism, while being a product of the Condesce's subliminal messaging IS a possibility, Dirk raises another one: that Jane simply only believes things if she's seen them with her own eyes directly, if she has direct proof of them. She's seen prospit in her dreams, she has no reason to think anything anyone says about it is wrong. The things she dismisses are things she hasn't seen directly and thus just thinks it's not true for reasons. or maybe I'm wrong XP

Nah, that's a good take. Jane's a bit of a cautionary tale, then, about how stubborn empiricism can severely limit your understanding of a concept or situation.

Sometimes, you really do have to take a leap of faith.

@liliflower137 asked: Hello!! I only just started reading your liveblog and I just want to say I love your commentary SO much, I read it pretty late (just between it ending and it being sold to viz media so the old website was still around) so my FAVORITE part of homestuck was always the mechanics of sburb, the alchemy stuff is just so cool!! So seeing you theorize about things and talk about how data structures work makes me so so happy, I hope you're having lots of fun!!!

Thank you! I really hope we get some post-Scratch alchemy binges - but sadly, I don't think it's guaranteed, as we're unlikely to be rehashing everything we've seen before.

Even so, there's got to be more we can learn about Homestuck's alchemy system... right?

Anonymous asked: congrats on finally reaching the end of one of Homestuck's Biggest Jokes. The Gift Of Gab.

I'm still hyped over those Dialoglogs - not least because it removes the main metabarrier which was preventing these kids from hanging out in person.

Let's fucking go! It's time!

@sashonya asked: Oh yeah, just a small aside as I'm sure you're going to realize in a bit. It's better to say the full "Act 6 Act 1" instead of "Act 6.1" since the intermissions also count as "Act 6.1"

Hmm. Well, it's pretty easy for me to edit my organizational tags retroactively, so I'll see what format works the best for me, going forward.

Generally, I prefer for these tags to be shorter, though - so if Act 6.1 Intermission needs its own tag, I might write it as Act 6.1.I, or something.

@jack-off-valentine asked: When, exactly, did AH pull an Aradiabot?

I initially asked myself the same question - but by now, I've learned to treat Hussie interludes as the breaks from canon they are.

We're probably never going to be told what's up with robo-Hussie, the same way that we'll never learn why Falkor the Luck Dragon has Lord English's cueball eyes. It's just Hussie being Hussie.

@pineapple-temporarily-moving asked: "By now, Jade should know why she arranged for herself to grab the Wall - but she's acting like she only did it because Karkat told her to. Maybe I'm just misinterpreting what she's saying." future jade told karkat to tell past jade to captchalogue the window because she remembered being told that by karkat (and karkat telling her that she told him to tell her that). it is simply one of homestuck's ubiquitous causal loops and it ultimately technically was only because karkat told her to LOL

Oh, god damn it, you're probably right.

Damn stable loops and their originless information. As much as I love time travel stories, this still has to be one of the least satisfying ways you could possibly resolve a plot thread.

@sanctferum asked: So, Jade, who just became a god tier Witch with striped leggings and ruby red shoes, levels up to Sayonara Kansas as she and John embark upon the Yellow Ruler Yard. Her god-tier self was formed from her living self and Jadesprite, a version of herself too cowardly to do anything despite her incredible power. Jadesprite used to be Dream Jade, whose physical counterpart on Earth was, thanks to Grandpa's inventions, a robotic version of Jade rather than Jade herself. A tin woman, one might say. Dream Jade herself was, prior to her death, notably absent-minded in a way no other dream self has shown themselves to be. It seems likely Hussie originally intended all dream selves to be this way while "asleep", but in the end only Jade acted like her brain was sleeping along with her body. And said dream self ended up being stuffed, of course. Do I need to elaborate on who Toto is in this analogy? No, I don't think I do. Original waking Jade is Dorothy. Jade's all of the Oz cast at once!

Even better:

The climax of Dorothy's story is her learning to teleport!

[bbina]

pursing your lips together, you push yourself off your desk as you head towards chenle's office

today wasn't going according to plan. you felt like the air has been knocked out of your lungs when you read the follow up email from mark that there is no meeting today but a building tour

you had stayed up working on possible pitches, created a whole new deck to present to upcoming clients. even studied the vision and mission of the entire company because chenle said so

but that's life. sometimes things just don't go according to plan

before you know it, you were already in front of the familiar double doors. your second office basically since you were always in and out of this room now

you were about to knock when you hear voices coming from the other side. you assumed it was just chenle talking to another employee or kun so you just knocked twice and opened the door

to your surprise, it wasn't kun who was chenle speaking to. but it was mark

"you called, sir zhong?" you say, stepping inside his office

chenle nods, motioning you to stand next to mark

"i want you to accompany mark on the building tour today in my place" chenle states, looking between you and mark

you simply nod your head while you take a peek at mark who strictly kept his gaze down at his feet

"next time, double check everything before sending it out to everyone so we don't waste each other's time, okay?" chenle says more of a question towards mark. his voice was stern but he didn't sound angry "i don't like working overtime for nothing. you know that"

mark winces but nods his head. it was a genuine mistake on his part. he didn't do it on purpose

"lunch is on you by the way" chenle adds, attempting to lift the slight gloomy mood inside his office

"... okay" mark mutters. "it won't happen again. i'm sorry"

you take a glance at chenle, wondering why you were even called here in the first place if it's just to witness mark get scolded by him since he could've easily texted you that you would accompany mark at this building tour later

chenle suddenly claps his hands, standing up from his seat

"alright. that's all. dismissed" chenle shoos the two of you away from office

as you walk out of chenle's office with mark, he was still a little sulky. probably because he got scolded by chenle so in hopes to console him, you awkwardly pat his back on the way out

"hey it's okay. mistakes happen" you smile at mark

mark sighs before rolling his shoulders. "i know.. it's just that i felt bad that you stayed up so late to finish the decks and everything in between"

"oh! it's fine! at least i don't have to do everything last minute when we land that meeting confirmation later" you reassure mark, elbowing him a little to lift up the mood

mark laughs but it sounds dejected. "still. chenle's a little mad that your efforts went to waste so i guess my goal for today is that we get that meeting scheduled"

"he didn't scold you, did he?" you ask slowly, just in case it was a little sensitive

mark shakes his head no. "not really. but i can feel the disappointment in his voice. did you not hear him say that lunch is on me? there goes a chunk of my paycheck for this month" mark sighs as he holds the elevator doors for you

you let out a small laugh. a part of you felt bad for him somehow

"between the two of us, i think i can get bossman to pay for our lunch today" you joked

"wait, you call him bossman too?" mark quips, eyes lighting up

"it fits him" you comment before bursting into a fits of giggles

"we call him bossman in our group chat too!" mark shares, laughing at the coincidence

. . .ᝰ.ᐟ

you rush out of your cubicle as you make your way towards the lobby where mark had just texted you that the clients have arrived

by the time you got to the lobby, you could see mark was already talking with said clients. the closer you got to the group, the more you noticed that they were around your age

"anyway thank you for taking the time to visit. i'm mark, a senior business development manager and.." mark pauses, looking behind to see you. the exact person he was looking for

you smile politely at the group as you walk in

"hello. welcome to zhong inc. i'm jung y/n, sir zhong's assistant. i will be accompanying you all in his place for today's tour as he is currently busy attending to his own matters" you introduce yourself smoothly as you stand next to mark

"and the two of us will be giving you the tour around zhong inc." mark smiles, clasping his hands together

the two boys nod as they take a good look around

"it's a pleasure to meet you, ms. jung" one boy steps up and holds his hand out, "i'm jaemin and this is my co-founder and basically the ceo of our little start up, jeno" jaemin introduces himself and jeno who also holds his hand out

without missing a beat, you shake your hands with the both of them politely

"and this is our secretary, winter" jaemin moves to the side to reveal winter who was right behind him

"such a grand entrance. wow" she says sarcastically, giving jaemin a look who just laughs

winter clears her throat before holding out her hand open for you to shake, "like they said hi i'm winter. it's nice to meet you. i think we're going to get along so well" she adds, smiling at you

you almost wanted to laugh at her introduction. you can tell she was also their personal assistant but decided to just guise it with the title of a secretary. you smile at her as you shake her hand

"i bet we will. now shall we start the tour?" you look around at the group who all nod their heads

"great! now if you all could follow me" mark takes the lead and ushers everyone to follow him while you stay right behind them just in case

you could only hope that this tour would end in a good note

BUSINESS PROPOSAL ᝰ.ᐟ . . . GOOD JOB

✎ . . . things aren't going as planned the way you thought it was going to be. especially the part where you find yourself falling in love with your own boss– which was definitely not part of the agreed proposal.

[ PREV / NEXT ]

✎ AUTHORS NOTE . . . this feels like a tv show almost tbh also dont forget to stream tear bridge by the love of my life

✎ TAGLIST . . . @mrkleelvr @jenodigital @https-dandelion @rik0shii @spacejip @yyangj3lly @multifandomania @taroddori @222brainrot @amouriu @defzcl @va1entinaa @carelessshootanonymous @onlywonb @flaminghotyourmom @do-you-remember-summer-127 @grimlinshere @yayayaiheardyouthefirsttime @hoeingthefuckup @meltinghershey @alwayswook @dutifullyannoyingstrawberrie @dudekiss3r @sibwol @planetmarlowe @doraemiz @morklee02 @httpsxnox @firydst @yuyita-rosier @ayukas @cottonjaems @monomya @neocults26 @greenyweirdo

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Could we get some more Dragon!Ford POV sometime? 🥺 I love how you write him and it's so intriguing to get to know what's going on in his head.

Sure! I love dragon Ford and his ability to logic away his insane behavior. Here's his POV from chapter 2!

Ford grumbled as he followed Fiddleford through the castle hallways, eyes locked onto his Stan's wriggling form. He didn't look happy to be tucked under his friends arm, which was understandable. Fiddleford had very uncomfortable metal limbs, nothing like Fords own warm, very strong and protective, scaly claws. Really, he should be the one carrying his Stan around, much more comfortable and safe.

He'd let it go for now. Fiddleford was his friend after all, (and his servant) and therefore could be trusted to take care of his Stan. Plus Ford was still annoyed by his Stan's insistence that he wasnt himself, like six fingers were a normal dragon had.

Eventually they made it to the dining room, and Fiddleford set his Stan down on the chair at the head of the table, what used to be Ford's spot. His brother wasted no time in trying to jump up and run off, and he watched in amusement as Fiddleford grabbed him immediately and put him right back.

“Please don’t make this difficult Stanley,” he said, holding Stan’s shoulders down “Just. Sit tight here, and I’ll explain what’s going on.”

“Fine,” his Stan growled, as Ford came over to stand over him, “but it better be good! I lost my horse to this thing!”

You didn't lose to me, Ford growled back, it ran off. His Stan hunched down in his chair, arms crossed and glaring at Fiddleford.

“Alright, where to begin,” Fiddleford said, as he sat down on the chair to his Stan's left and set his arms down on the table, “Well to start, how much do you know about your brother’s research?”

“Absolutely nothing. Haven’t seen him in a decade.”

I'm sorry my Stanley, Ford crooned, setting his head down on one of his claws so he could gaze at his brother better, I promise, I'll take better care of you this time.

His Stan leaned away from him, resting his arm on the arm of the chair. Poor thing, all alone out there all by himself. Ford would do much better from now on, make sure no one tried to come and snatch him.

Fiddleford sighed, “ That's. Not great. See, Stanford was looking into the source of all magic, and it led him here. I won’t get too into the details, but the past year he’d been looking into breaking curses. He thought there was something here blocking the flow. And there was. And he set it free, leading to,”

Fiddleford waved his hand at Ford, and he huffed. It wasn't his fault Bill turned him into a dragon, he hadn't even known that was a thing Bill could do until it was already done. And Ford had been on the right track, before Bill got too sure of himself and showed his true colors.

“But before he went all scaly, he went into a… fit of paranoia,”

Do you really need to phrase it like that to my Stanley? Ford growled, even as Fiddleford glared back at him.

“Don’t get huffy! There’s no other way to say it!”

You could say I was being threatened! Ford growled, then he looked over at his Stan, willing his brother to understand his feelings. His Stan just glared at him, making those feelings even sadder. His Stan shouldn't be glaring at him while Fiddleford made exaggerated claims about what he was doing.

“Anyhow, the point is he sealed all his research into curse breaking and magic, along with his labs. No one but him can access it, and it’s not recognizing him like this. We’ve been a bit stuck to be honest.”

“That’s where you come in!” Fiddleford smiled at his brother, a large grin that his Stan seemed to flinch away from. Ford glared at his friend, then tried to move his head closer to comfort his Stan.

“OK, say I believe you,” his Stan said, leaning further away , “How am I supposed to get you through Fords magic mumbo jumbo. I don’t know anything about enchantments and crap.”

Well that was a blatent lie if Ford ever heard one. His Stan might not have grasped the more complex aspect of magic, but Ford had blabbered enough as children that his brother should have a rough understanding about how it worked.

“You don’t need to know anything!” Fiddleford said, excited, “See your blood-”

Ford blinked as his brother moved, vaulting over the side of the chair, scrambling over his claw (and his Stan was touching him! Willingly! A part of him rumbled in delight at the tiny points of pressure from his Stan moving across him) then started sprinting back towards the door. Ford watched him for a moment, delighted at seeing his brother look so alive, then used his tail to sweep across the room and gently drag his brother back to him.

Fiddleford had taken the time to stand up and walk over, grabbing his Stan by the back of his cloak and set him back in the chair. His Stan took a few deep breaths (and really, he must be terribly out of shape if sprinting such a short distance winded him) then tried to slide out under the table. Fiddleford, who hadn't moved, grabbed him again, lifting him into the air while his Stan flailed.

His Stan had always been slippery and hard to catch.

“You can’t have my blood!” he yelled, kicking at its chest and trying to push away, “I will not be a part of any more blood rituals!”

More? Ford perked up at that, eyes narrowing as he thought about what blood rituals his brother might have been involved in, before the conversation continued and he was distraced by his Stan kicking Fiddleford in the face.

“Blood rituals? What? No, I just-” Fiddleford frowned, then held his Stan further away so his legs couldn't reach. “There’s no blood rituals happening here. If I set you down, will you listen to the rest of what I’m trying to say? I don’t want to have to tie you to the chair.”

“Sure,” his Stan growled, glaring. Ford recognized the look, one he'd seen many times over the years as his brother lied and schemed to get out of trouble and do what he pleased.

His Stan was always so free, not tied down by the expectations of others. Normally Ford loved that about him, but right now he needed his Stan to at least pretend to listen to Fiddleford so that he could sneak him back to his room later.

He's going to try and run again, Ford grumbled, watching his Stan's eyes as they narrowed and scanned the room.

“I’m sure it’s fine Stanford, he just said-”

Fiddleford barely had the chance to let go before his Stan was gone, sprinting past him away from Ford. That wouldnt do, of course, his Stan should never be too far away.

Ford chuckled as Fiddleford tied his Stan to the chair. It took several attempts, and seeing the expression on Fiddlefords face everytime his Stan managed to wriggle out was priceless. His Stan had always been hard to pin down, even for Ford.

Eventually his friend managed to do it, tying both of his Stan's arms down and wrapping it around his chest so all he could do was kick his legs. He'd allow it for now, while his Stan was still adjusting to his new home, but once he'd gotten settled Ford would have some words with Fiddleford if he tried it again.

His Stan wriggled some more, then brought up his legs and kicked at the table, pushing the chair back into Ford's neck.

“Ha! Take-Ugh!”

So small you are, Ford crooned, as his Stan yelled and tried to pull away from Fords lick. His Stan was so dirty, and would need a proper bath at some point so that everyone could appreciate him better. Ford licked him again, trying to get his hair to curl nicely, then chuckled as his brother squirmed.

“Are you two done?” Fiddleford asked, sounding tired. His Stan scowled, then flinched as Ford licked him one more time.

For now, Ford clicked, but he'll need to wash up later, when we're done here. He settled his head back onto one of his claws, then went back to admiring his Stan's grumpy expression.

“As I was saying, your blood should be near identical, being twins, so hopefully it should unlock everything. All ya’ gotta do is put your hands on few things. No blood rituals.”

“Uhuh, just touch some stuff, and then I can leave?” Stan said, eyeing Ford. Ford smiled, watching his brother as he tried to free one of his arms from the chair. Fiddleford sighed, shifting loudly before resting his arms on the table and twisting his hands together.

“I’d love to send you on your way, despite your,” he grimaced, “delightful company. But Stanford’s not gonna let that happen, at least not while he’s like this. You should be free to go once we fix him.”

He's not going anywhere! Ford clicked, trying to shove his face into his Stan but only managing to bump the chair. It wobbled for a moment, before Fiddleford reached out and steadied it. Ford glared at the man, offended he'd think Ford would let his Stan fall over.

"Yes, he is Stanford,” Fiddleford said, “you can’t keep him here forever, and you won’t want to when you’re yourself again.”

Yes he would. Ford would keep his Stan with him forever and ever. He was His Stan after all, they were twins! There was nowhere his Stan was supposed to be than safely tucked into their home, where no one could come and snatch him. Being human shaped again wasn't going to change that.

“In the meantime,” Fiddleford continued, giving him a mean look, “we’ll set you up with some rooms and find something to feed you. We haven’t had, ah, human company in a while, so I’m not too sure what’s in the kitchen.”

“Wait,” Stan said, eyeing the Fiddleford even as his arms continued to try and wiggle free, “what about the knights, don’t you feed them anything?”

“They don’t need to eat,”

He doesn't need a room, Ford clicked, reaching forwards with his front claw he wasn't laying his head on and using it to drag his Stan closer, he's staying with me. There's more than enough room in the treasury for the both of us.

His Stan yelled, probably from surprise, then kicked his legs as Ford rested his chair against him.

“No, he’s getting a room,” Fiddleford shot back, sounding annoyed, “He’s a person, he can’t live like that. There’s nowhere for him to sleep in there either. And look at him, you’re freaking him out,”

“Hey! I’m not-”

Ford rolled his eyes, then turned to look at Stan fully. His Stan wasn't scared of him! They were brothers! There was nowhere safer for his Stan than right here next to him.

His confidence wavered as his Stan froze. His brother was staring at him with wide eyes, face pale and shoulders starting to hunch the longer they made eye contact.

Ah. He was afraid. Afraid of Ford.

It hurt a part of him he hadn't realized was capable of hurting. His Stan should never be scared of him, of Ford. Ford was his big brother, the one looking after him now that he was so small and fragile. Anyone who realized how magnificent his Stan was would jump at the chance to take him away, and it was Ford's job to stop that from happening.

But Stan didnt belived Fiddleford that he was himself, only saw a giant dragon who'd snatched him for a horrible reason and not the great reason Ford had. Ford wilted as his brother kept watching him, too scared to move. He crooned sadly, then looked away. Then he wilted more as he heard his Stan let out a sigh of relief.

He gently pushed the chair back, giving his Stan some space, then set his head back down on his claw. His Stan scowled back at him, and Ford knew he'd be crying if he could.

“I know you don’t like it, but it is what it is,” Fiddleford said, patting his snout.

I suppose, he chirped, watching his Stan sadly. Fiddleford kept talking, but Ford tuned him out, thinking. If his Stan was so scared, then he'd have to work on showing his Stan how trustworthy and safe he was. Show his Stan how Ford understood how special he was, and that there was no where he should be then right here with him. They had a truly grand home after all, with plenty of roaming space, a very impressive hoard, and several servants companions for his Stan to talk to and get socialization from, so he wouldn't get lonely.

What other dragons had this kind of set up? None of them. Because they were dead.

Eventually Fiddleford untied his Stan, and Ford followed them as his friend led them through the halls towards one of the upper rooms. His Stan asked several questions, eyed a lot of the different halls, and hummed noncommittally at all of Fiddlefords responses.

Ford had no doubt his brother would be out of the castle before morning.

When they finally got to his Stan's 'room' (and inwardly Ford scoffed. His Stan's room was in the hoard with the rest of Ford's treasures) Ford leaned down and inspected it as best he could. While all of the rooms meant for heavy traffic had been designed with dragons coming in and out in mind, most of the personal rooms had not. More than half of the castle had become inaccesbable to Ford after he turned into a dragon, and it irked him that Fiddleford would put his Stan in one of them.

Not that the larger bedrooms would have Stan sized furniture, but at least then Ford could come in and make himself comfortable.

He watched his Stan inspect the bedroom, then eyed the large window across from him. His Stan was scared of heights, but he was also the sneakiest and most cunning of all Stans. It was possible all the questions had been a diversion, and he'd show off how brave and wonderous he was by climbing out the window while Fiddleford was making dinner.

Part of him wanted to warn Fiddleford, make sure his Stan stayed nice and warm inside.

A larger part grinned at the thought of scooping his Stan up again, then sneaking him back into his room. There was a chance his Stan wouldn't get out after all, and while the thought of finding his Stan outside while it was starting to get cold out made him want to snarl, the thought of having his Stan all to himself in the treasury made a larger part of him grumble in pleasure.

When Fiddleford came back out to shoo him off to dinner, Ford only grumbled a little before making his way back to the treasury. He told one of the knights to bring him all the blankets and pillows from one of the unused halls, then quickly scanned his treasure for a Stan sized chest. It needed to be large enough for his Stan to spread out in, but still small enough Ford could curl around it while they slept.

He eyed a few of them, before finding one that seemed a good fit. Dumping all the gold out, he lifted it into the air and eyed the inside, scanning for splintered wood or rusted hinges. Finding nothing, he set it down on a pile of coins and stuffed it full of pillows and blankets until it was near bursting.

There. Much better than that other chest. That other chest was an embarrassment really, not nearly soft enough to hold his Stan like this one.

He nodded, then spread his wings and took of, careful not to knock over his new Stan chest as he made his way out through the back entrance. It was a series of caves Bill had repurposed to let his hoard of dragons fly in and out of the castle so they could drop all the gold they'd stolen directly into the treasury. There was only one exit, and all the branching pathways were booby trapped. It came out near the back of the castle, in the form of a vertical shaft Ford climbed out of that was surrounded by pitch black walls and had a single large balcony Bill used to stand on and watch all the dragons fly in and out of, as well as toss people into.

A grim history, but also the only way for Ford to easily get in and out of the castle, since the front doors were no longer usable. He'd sort of accidentally broke them from throwing Bill out so many times, and Fiddleford had to strain to push them open even a crack.

Ford climbed out onto the roof, shook himself, then spread his wings. He launched himself off and spread his wings, breathing in the cold air as his inner fire roared. The storm would be here, probably sometime in the next three or four hours. He'd have to fly to the closest farm, eat a cow or two (or three) then get back before it hit, scanning the road in case his Stan did manage to sneak out.

(And if he knew his Stan, he would. His Stan was so sneaky like that)

Aaaaand thats chapter 2!! Dragon Ford continues to be delusional and possessive! Plus an explination on how Ford gets in and out without using the front doors. There's just a big hole that leads down and then bends into the treasury. Intruders that tried to sneak in through it had to climb the castle walls, sneak past all the dragons and Bill, avoid all the false side paths, then huzzah! The treasure! That wouldnt leave the castle and was also littered with cursed items! Giving Bill even more monsters to command or people to laugh at as misfortune struck.

It occurs to me that i should probably put this on ao3 for those non tumblrs. Hmm. Look out for extended chapter 1 and this coming soon.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 180 (Saying Goodbye)

cw: grief, memorial service

With Malcolm's pleas unanswered, Geoffrey Landgraab passed away at just 63 years old. His family felt his loss immediately, crying themselves to sleep for days after his untimely death.

Bridgette kept her grandmother company by filling the empty space in the bed Nancy shared with Geoffrey for more than 40 years, and Malcolm worried about his mother. So stoic and proud, Nancy felt Geoffrey's loss on a level reserved for true love. She was devastated.

But Nancy refused to let her grief stand in the way of honouring the man she loved, and when it was time for Geoffrey's memorial service, she even allowed Ash's mother, stepfather, and sister Lavender to attend in support of her grandson. Their infant in a Spider-Man sweater - Rowan, she thought but couldn't remember - was even asleep upstairs in Bridgette's old crib.

Geoffrey had never really understood Nancy's dislike for Heather, and it was only after the kidnapping that he finally agreed to pursue custody. But inviting the Gordons wasn't an olive branch.

Not that Heather and Conrad thought it was. They weren't happy to be there, but they masked their disinterest in comforting smiles for Ash's sake. And they knew something the Landgraabs did not - while they were here honouring the memory of Ash's grandfather, Felix and Emit planned to meet with newlywed Judge Robin Banks across town.

Heather and Conrad had no clue how the meeting would go, but they knew Felix intended to stop her from ever becoming the time thief. They didn't know anything else, but he'd hinted that it might look like misconduct if he said too much about it. They trusted him, and they couldn't be implicated in any kind of plan he was formulating. Not if they wanted Ash back home in the Bay.

The Zests were all there, too, which made the thought of listening to Nancy's tearful eulogies a lot more bearable. Lavender showed up (in Conrad's hair colour, inexplicably, before it turned back to auburn) and offered her brother a hug. "I'm sorry you lost your granddad," she said sweetly, sticking close to her parents the rest of the memorial.

At one point, she got hungry, and Ash offered her a slice of leftover pizza. "Didn't this Canadian bacon give your granddad a heart attack?"

"Yeah, but no one else will eat it," he said, dropping to do a few sit-ups on the kitchen floor. "And you're too young for a heart attack."

So Lavender happily enjoyed the greasy pizza while Johnny Zest gave a lighthearted eulogy. "Geoffrey turned my sister from a sea monster to your standard sea witch, but everything about him was constant. He always made time for family. He always made time for my wife and I, and he was always encouraging to our kids. I know we're all going to miss having him around."

Johnny and Eva Zest's youngest, son Deven, pulled up a wooden stool and offered a eulogy of his own. (Autonomously! So cute.)

"Uncle Geoffrey was always the funniest. Even funnier than my dad, sometimes. And he always found coins behind my ear whenever he saw us. He was really nice to me and my sisters and he always let us use the pool. We'll miss you, Uncle Geoffrey."

Nancy spoke for a long time about Geoffrey. She talked about how he had always been the secret to her success, and that of their family. He was her compass through every storm, the man who convinced her she was worthy of love. She feared what the world would look like without him in it.

Her words were so vulnerable and heartfelt, it was the first time Heather had ever seen her this way. She didn't realize it was possible to feel a shred of sympathy for her, but as Nancy recollected how Geoffrey enjoyed fantasy epics, Heather thought back to years ago before she and Malcolm split, when she came downstairs to find Geoffrey reading in the kitchen.

She made them a 'second breakfast' of French toast that night, and she remembered thinking Geoffrey would have been a decent father-in-law. But she never could have been happy with his son.

Still, the emotion of the moment overtook her, and she teared up over the loss of her son's grandfather next to his sobbing widow.

The Zests quickly made their way to the pool lounge a floor below, where they danced to the old jukebox stereo and jumped in for a swim. It really was the best way to honour Geoffrey, who loved dancing in his bathing suit around the penthouse, and Nancy was too grief-stricken to give them hell for it, anyway.

Malcolm was struggling with the loss of his father, and didn't offer a eulogy of his own. He asked Conrad how he dealt with the loss of his parents. "Do you feel like you failed them? Like you should have saved them?"

Conrad didn't really know what to say. Some days, he really hated the guy for the custody trial, and he had to hold his fists at his side to keep from punching him. But he'd known Malcolm - and Geoffrey - a long time. "It's not your fault. You've just got to keep living," he said. "But you'll never stop missing him."

After the rainy indoor memorial, guests travelled to Myshuno Meadows in the rain for the burial of Geoffrey's ashes. The rain made Roan a little fussy, so the Gordons were all too happy to step away. With his father's blessing, Ash followed curiously.

"Did you know this is the same cemetery where your parents are buried? My Dad told me they're over by the lake. Can we go see them?"

"It's pouring rain," Conrad protested as Roan fussed. "Your brother's not happy."

"It'll be raining inside, anyway."

"Please, Daddy? I didn't know my grandparents were here, too!"

"Just their gravestones, sweet girl."

"I still wanna see!"

So despite the rain, they made their way to the graves of Conrad's parents, with Heather cracking jokes to get Roan babbling and focused on anything but the wet weather.

Ash lit a candle for Conrad's parents, which stayed burning despite the rain. "I wish I had known you, but I'm glad I know Conrad," he told them. "Rest in peace."

Conrad hadn't visited his parents' graves since the death of his father. He'd never been comfortable talking to stone, but he let himself shed a few tears in front of the people he loved more than anything.

Lavender watched her strong, stoic father with sad eyes. "Daddy, can I play Gramma and Grampa Gordon a song on my violin? I can play in front of an audience that doesn't see me!"

Ash looked at her with surprise. "You brought your violin?"

"I thought I might play at the funeral to surprise you, but there were too many people and your Nan talked the whole time, anyway. But I'll play a song for Gramma and Grampa and your Granddad, too."

"That's a great idea, Lavender," said Heather warmly. "Let's hear you play."

Lavender pulled out her violin, playing a traditional tune and escaping into the music while rain fell all around them. Her family listened intently, and Ash congratulated her when she was done.

"That was great, Lava. You shouldn't be afraid to play in front of anyone!"

"Do you think Gramma and Grampa liked it?"

Ash nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on her. "I bet they loved it."

"Well done, Lavender. You're getting so good at that violin," said her father. Heather proudly concurred, and Roan babbled in her arms.

"Lah goo!"

None of them acted like they saw the two apparitions float from their gravestones as Lavender's violin sang through the rain. Ash could see them, of course, but he could only see their translucent figures.

He was surprised and confused. Why didn't the ghosts of Conrad's parents want to be seen? ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

I really set up this whole arc hoping Malcolm would plead and, whether Geoffrey lived or died, his evil trait might flip to good...no such luck. Malcolm is still evil, which I suppose we all knew anyway. Might try donating a bunch of money to charity next, I don't know what'll do it. (In Geoffrey's name, of course!) The good news is Geoffrey's death will not be in vain, depending whose side you're on, even though his son couldn't save him - or himself, frankly.

NOTE: For the record I did have a height preset on Ash, but I moved him around and it disappeared. I think maybe because the Gordon household has too many people so I can't enter full CAS, it won't stick. But he's pretty close to aging up to teen anyway, so I just let it go. He's taller than Lavender and Bridgette in our hearts.

NOTE 2: This was my first in-game funeral. I'm honestly relieved I could play through one and get some tips before I have to one day do it for my main family sims. RIP though, Geoffrey! But we can only invite 8 sims? If you don't invite the people who live in your household, who are family, to invite more guests from outside, those family members can't give eulogies?! And some of the randomized 'polished black' outfits were ridiculous. Johnny in a sarong and Eva and the Landgraabs' driver, Ray Pierce, in ripped denim? Nancy was probably fuming. I was also not really into moving the funeral offsite because their place is large enough, though I could have done without guests jumping in the pool before the funeral was done!

WCIF: Nancy and Geoffrey's wedding photo was made with the Wedding Portrait posepack by @lucky-content. Nancy, Geoffrey, and child Malcolm are posed with @simmerberlin's Family Picture, an all-in-one animated pose for two parents and two kids that worked well for a family of 3. I also used this pose pack for Conrad's photos with his parents, which now hang on the walls of the Gordon home! Posed them both wayyyyy back when I played out Conrad's childhood flaskback and never properly cited it, so making amends on that now!