#i has so many of these window stickers

[cuntwrap--supreme]

I've been doing a lot of grocery delivery in the country lately, so I ordered myself a nice bumper sticker so I fit in with everyone else's stuff :)

I've seen a lot of these lately, but they were all of a pride flag I don't recognize. Not sure which gender/sexuality has the red and white stripes with the blue with white stars in the corner, but I guess it's an ok design. The rainbow is the traditional LGBT flag, though, so I feel it symbolizes the collective queer community a little better and will be a little more noticeable/recognizable than niche flags, like this stars and stripes guy.

[shadeslayer]

I'm growing the Three Sisters and I feel so unbelievably NDN and connected to my ancestors every time I tend my garden.

WAAA ... i love that so so so much for u anon im so jealous omg... the yard/garden im working on is at my parents place where im staying so i dont get a say in it but my mom is designing it and is purposely making it like, all plants native to the area and we just had the tree cutter guy out to cut down all the invasive and sick trees so we can plant healthy native stuff in its place and it feels so fucking good to be out there in the dirt knowing that this is all good stuff

my dads doing a lot of the work bc im busy having depression in my room KJNDFS but i love helping with it when i can. the soil in illinois as well is so insanely rich it still feels so special when i dig into the dirt at all.. im used to the oklahoma dirt thats just. pathetic. red clay and post-dust bowl plains dirt. but here gets so much rain and has so much life the dirt is so richly black and wet i just want to bury my face in it....

[olessan]

I am stressed :(

[wanderingcritter]

Friendly reminder to never EVER let losers on the internet convince you that alterhumanity is wrong or will never be accepted by general society.

I went to my city's local renaissance faire earlier this week and I had genuinely such an incredible experience. I went with my tail, theta delta necklace, and mask (which I may post here once Im fully done with it lol) gear and received so many compliments. Not only that but I saw and talked to quite a few other alterhumans, like at least 10 and that was after only being there for 1 of the 2 days for less than 2 hours. Also please keep in mind that this was by no means a large ren faire (at least compared to others in the region) and the area I live in is very mixed in terms of progressiveness. But at one point I was walking past some vendors and an older lady running one of the booths exclaimed how much she liked my mask and asked to take a picture of it, and explained how her granddaughter was just starting to learn how to make some of her own. And then told me that the booth next to hers was "selling some therian masks" (yes she actually used the word therian completely unprompted!) and sure enough the couple in there were selling some masks made by their 11 year old daughter (which were absolutely gorgeous btw). Afterwards, as I was out near the parking lot waiting for my ride so that I could leave, I was practicing quadrobics and some 5-6 year old kids walked past me with their parents and looked absolutely awestruck. Shortly after another woman approached me and told me that her young granddaughter was completely overjoyed when she saw me me running around and had wanted to come play with me, and had said "Ive never seen a creature play like that before!!"

Not only was the ren faire itself super fun and cool to be at (I can't wait for next year omg), but it was unexpectedly the most positive alterhuman related experiences Ive had maybe ever.

There is a future where we are normal, where others see us as who we truly are and where we don't have to conceal ourselves to avoid judgement. The road isn't always going to be smooth, especially as we grow in numbers, in fact I fully expect things to get a whole lot worse for us in the years and decades to come. But one day, maybe even in our lifetimes, you will walk through a pride parade and see someone enthusiastically waving a massive theta delta flag through the crowd. You will hear strangers casually use species neutral language like it's the most normal thing in the world. You will sit down with your family to watch the newest popular tv show that includes a character who has received species affirming medical care. You will walk past a cozy locally owned business that has an "all species welcomed!" sticker on their window next to their lgbtq+ and poc welcoming signs.

We are everywhere, and we're not going away. There will always be those who refuse to understand us, but there will be more who choose to love and accept us in our entirety, I have absolutely no doubt about that <3

[cowgirlcherrie]

florist! abby Headcanons ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

a/n: something quick n sweet you knowwwww got this random thought and had to write it I couldn’t resist I couldn’t. I also saw that no one done florist! abby(?) so I wanted to be the first to hop on! plus I missed writing for Abs — my baby, so enjoy ♡

warnings: 18+, MDNI, some fluff, gets smuttier halfway in, strap, blowjob (strap), eating you out, mentions of obsessive behaviors, polaroid nudes-ish, fingering, edging, public-sex-ishh, soft dom! Abby, tatted! Abby. Hinted at smoker Abby if you squint, petnames, fingers in mouth, masturbation, use of the word mommy, use of the word pussy, fem reader.

divider creds here

ೀ florist! Abby wears a basic white cropped t-shirt and black dickies under her beige apron. Her apron has a rainbow flag pin, with black pliers in one pocket. Doc Martins on her feet, tied miserably into a bow, it’s a miracle she doesn’t trip around the flower shop. She has a carabiner on her belt loop that jingles every time she walks. 

– apart from smelling like the flowers (obvi bc of where she works) smells like heavy pine and fresh soap, like forget the additives – just clean if ykyk

ೀ florist! Abby gets little patchwork tattoos in random places: a dainty lavender tattoo on her wrist, a little crescent moon behind her ear, paw prints on her bicep for her late dog Alice, a ‘gentle artist’ in bolded times new roman font – but dainty on her forearm. Her knuckles are tatted spelling out “FUCK YOU”.

ೀ florist! Abby that has a ��Save the Bees!’ sticker on the back of her phone case. Super Bee activist.

ೀ florist! Abby who spends all day in the floral shop, playing music from her playlist on the shop’s aux, slightly swaying to the music as she works on a bouquet. She works with such prestige, god her hands work so quickly at building arrangements but the outcome is so beautiful and that’s why she has many customers. She definitely uses any leftover flowers as bookmarks for her books.

ೀ florist! Abby who’s aux will go from Lauryn Hill to Boy Genius to Mac Miller — she gets compliments on her music taste by customers all the time.

ೀ florist! Abby stops working on a bouquet when you walk into the store because of how confused you look. Wanting to save a damsel in distress. Abby moves from her place at the counter walking over to where you stood looking at the different types of flowers, creeping behind you. You smell divine to her, driving her head crazy knowing that your scent alone will be stuck in her head all day. The floral shop is a slow yet steady business, so Abby definitely doesn’t forget a face or a smell. The form-fitting dress you wore that day, the way your hands bunched at the fabric in confusion had her head spinning!

“Beautiful aren’t they?” Abby whispers from behind you,

Actually scares the living shit out of you when you see her standing behind you, but the way the sun was hitting her face from the big window panels made you less nervous. Rather in awe at the beauty in front of you. Her sunkissed skin, and silky blonde mane, were raveled in a delicate braid with wispies around her face. The raspiness from her voice – which honestly sounded like a smoker's voice now that you thought about it. 

ೀ florist! Abby who makes small talk with you while making your boquette for you (taking her slow sweet time), asking you where you’re from and what you’re doing in town? Absolutely praying that the flowers aren’t for some significant other of yours, Abby letting out an exhale when you say that they’re for your mom who you are visiting for dinner. When you mention you are unsure of what flowers to get don’t worry Abby will help you!

“So pretty girl, are you more minimalistic, talking Lilies, Gardenia’s, Jasmine – which is over there...or colorful? Which I think your beautiful self enjoys a nice Orchid, Camellia, or Begonia?”

Definitely shocks you with how well she knows her stuff

ೀ florist! Abby zones out when you are speaking and stares at your lips for far too long, looking at the way your pink gloss shines wondering how your pretty lips would look taking her strap. Percase covered in spit, from your saliva that has built up from blowing her off. Abby wanted to do nothing more than take the pretty little fabric ribbon from your hair and tie it around your hands as she went down on you while you beg her to touch you in all the right places – it was all a dream to her. Wet dreaming with you right in front of her.

Undeniably horny and touch deprived…she spends so much time in the floral shop she doesn’t have time for dating apps and finds shit like Tinder CORNY LOL. 

Meanwhile, you are trying your hardest not to stare at the way her arms are flexing or how her fingers are paying delicate attention to your bouquet, mentally laughing at the “FUCK YOU” on her knuckles, it contrasted her soft nature so much.

ೀ florist! Abby who slips in a little note into your tote back when you’re not looking, with her number on it, hoping that you would find it and call her soon, Which you do find when you are scrambling for your keys on your way back to the car. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to give the overly, steaming attractive florist a call. 

ೀ florist! Abby when the two of you start dating, she would teach you how to make a bouquet, standing closely behind you – her body right up against your back as you feel her breath tickling your ear as she whispers to you what to do

“Atta girl, look at that my sweet girl – woah! watch your hand there’s a thorn baby.”

Will definitely put her hands over yours as she works with the knife to make sure there isn’t any thorns so you don’t prick yourself. 

ೀ florist! Abby fucking you in the flower shop, when the shop is closed. Having her head in between your thighs, as her jaw slacks – the sound of your juices sloshing against her mouth as she sends hums into your pussy making you let out low mewls. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth but she slaps it away so that she can see you

“Don’t hide from me baby, I wanna see you…look at how beautiful you look whining for me doll”

ೀ florist! Abby who kept your lace underwear in her pocket after she fucked you in the floral shop keeping it for safe-keeping (pft…we all know what she is doing with that)

ೀ florist! Abby who shows you her small pocket-sized notebook full of different flowers and arrangement ideas she had. Even the sketches of a flower bouquet that she made inspired by you and all your favorite flowers.

ೀ florist! Abby definitely tucks flowers behind your ears, specifically a white or light-pink Carnation. Especially loves putting one behind your ear as she fucks you with her strap, missionary style so she can see your face – just loves your face honestly. Bending down to kiss your lips, her cheeks dusted red with the pressure she applies.

Tucking her head into your neck swiftly smelling the carnation that she put behind your ear driving her even further insane as she drills into you — makes her go faster.

ೀ When she starts teaching you more about flowers, Definitely uses sexual enforcement to get you to remember it. Will have you sat on her counter as she stands in between your legs – locking you in as she lunges two fingers into you, edging you and not letting you cum until you say the right name of the flower that she taught you. But you could hardly focus staring at her inked knuckles as they pump in and out of you which only makes you reach your climax even further. 

“You wanna come don’t you my sweet girl? I know you want to…just say the name– awh don’t whine at me…I know you know it dollface, I don’t buy that you don’t.”

Sometimes she’ll give you a hint if the flower starts with one of the letters on her knuckles she will stick the corresponding finger into you, working at getting you just about there as her finger curls into you. Your vision is blurry as you can hardly tell what the letter is, moaning out as you try to focus on the order of the letters on her knuckles to catch the hint.

“C’mon baby I’m giving you a hint…pay attention sweetheart– focus!”

ೀ florist! Abby when you get it wrong and she finally lets you come — is fake-mad at you, shoving the lettered finger down your throat as you gag on her fingers covered in your juices.

“Baby the hinted letter was C, and the other finger was U, flower: Curcuma. You’ll get it right next time right sweetheart? You won’t let mommy down hmm?”

ೀ florist! Abby is definitely a soft dom just saying… soft as hell, loves when you hold her – kiss her, and skin-to-skin contact is important as hell she just wants to feel you and loves when you baby her. 

ೀ Definitely keeps a Polaroid of you holding flowers in pink floral lingerie in her beige apron and another one of you in her wallet, that way she has you on her at all times (honestly probably touched herself to blow off some steam after a hard shift while looking at it)

ೀ Depending on how far the relationship goes, especially if y’all start talking marriage will get your favorite flower tatted and not tell you until you see a dainty tattoo of your favorite flower on her collarbone slightly above her heart as she is filling you up, you questioning her in between moans about it.

“Mmhm…fuck is that new? Shit..abbyplease – wait is that my favorite flower?” You ask, as she grinds into you – your finger dragging against the tattoo

“Yes baby, you’re all mine. Mine…mine…mine” As she pounds harder into to you each time she says mine. Obsessive, possessive + territorial, let’s talk about it 

ೀ florist! Abby is overall just a sweetheart who loves you so much and just wants you to be her pretty flower – her muse, you definitely inspire most of her bouquets and she is so happy you ran into her shop looking for flowers that day.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

lips of an angel

pairing: married! leon x marriage counselor! reader

cw: infidelity, p in v, oral, over-usage of 'good girl', regret, leon is an asshole (like, he's really a dick), reader is also not a good person (so, hopefully it's ooc for u lol), not proofread enough

summary: leon is married to ashley (she deserves better) and he cheats on her with reader who is the marriage counselor

a/n: based on a reddit post lol. also, it's time for us to admit that lips of an angel is such a fucking good song and leon would listen to it. (imagining this is id! leon and that song came out around that time so actually it's perfect. anyway, bye)

wc: 2.7k

[edit] taglist

@rigorwhoring

@dilfprayers

@porcelainseashore

@dollita-fawn

@xoxoloveless

@admirxation

@pawrincss

@onlyasimp4-2dbitches

@pr3ttyd0llie

It starts like many horror stories do: with a knock at the door. He's tall, dark, and handsome, standing in the doorframe. Except not that dark, not very tall at all, but incredibly handsome and you've come to find over the sessions you've spent together that his looks are your weakness. His weakness is you. And many other women. Including his wife, who usually attends these sessions, but tonight, he comes alone. Maybe it's the rain that's beating down on the windows - thought it should sound like a warning - that makes you feel sympathetic enough to let him in when you know you shouldn't.

You let him sit on your couch, but make him hang up his leather jacket on the coat rack so he doesn't ruin the furniture. So you can see his biceps better. And his forearms when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The first two buttons are already undone, but that's how he always dresses. You know this because you spend too much time looking at him. What does his wife wear? Skirts? Dresses? Pantsuits? She could wear a goddamn clown costume to every session and you'd be none the wiser because you're staring at her husband like he's a piece of meat.

"Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but why are you here?" you ask him. "Your appointment isn't until Wednesday."

"I'm having marriage troubles. I thought you might be able to help."

It's in the job title: marriage counselor.

"Where's Ashley?" It's a loaded question, and the gun is pointed at your entire fucking career.

"She couldn't come. Plus, I don't think she'd like to know about these problems I'm having."

You take a deep breath, contemplating absolutely nothing because you've already made your choice. You made your choice months ago when you had your first appointment with the Kennedys.

“Remember when I said I had a history of cheating?”

“I do. Has this become a problem again?”

“Not exactly,” he says with a slight chuckle that you later find is ironic in nature. “But I’ve been having thoughts…”

“Are these thoughts sexual?”

“Very.”

“Have you tried taking care of it yourself?” You make a hand gesture to signal ‘if you know what I mean’ and pray he knows what you mean so you don’t have to say the words ‘jerk off’ explicitly.

“Yes, but it hasn’t worked.” He looks directly into your eyes when he says it.

"Are these thoughts about a specific person?"

"Yes." 

His answers, which are limited to only a few words at a time, make you feel like you're shaking up a magic 8 ball, and the blue goop reveals a die that has little to say beyond 'It is certain', 'My sources say no', and 'Try again later'. 

“Is there a way you could distance yourself from this person so you don’t have any potential ‘slip ups’?” you ask.

“Sure, but I’d have to stop counseling if I did.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Kennedy-”

“Leon.”

“Right. Leon, I’m not trying to be presumptuous, but are you insinuating that these thoughts are about me?”

“That they are.” His smile gives you a golden star-shaped sticker for guessing correctly.

You give him a scowl. "I'll set you up with a new therapist, then."

“Let me ask you something,” he says, leaning forward, staring right into your soul. “Are you attracted to me too?”

“I’m not comfortable answering-”

“That’s not a ‘no’. Is it?”

You try to wipe the look of shock arousal off your face.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to admit it. I remember you asking a lot of questions about my sex life, especially the parts that don’t involve my wife, and getting visibly flustered when I answered them.”

“Of course I asked questions like that. I’m a therapist. It’s what I do. I’m sorry if you-” 

You should ask him to leave, separate yourself before you explode in frustration. Getting defensive is not a healthy way to argue. You know this. You've told him this.

“If I remember correctly you asked me about how I touch myself, when I do it, if I watch anything.” He doesn't wait for a response from you, but it wouldn't have come anyway. “And, the whole time you were sitting there chewing on your pen, pretending not to imagine it. And then writing it down in a hurry, making sure you got down every little detail.” He taps on your pad of paper.

“Can I see this for a moment?” He snags it from the table beside you and flips through the pages. Without thinking, you leap forward and try to snatch it from him, falling into his lap.

The embarrassing part is when he lifts you off of him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s highly confidential!”

“Mr and Mrs. Kennedy,” he begins to read imitating your voice.

“Enough.” You use your sternest voice with him - which is far from stern.

“It says right here that Mr. Kennedy is 'a total dick’ but ‘totally fuckable’.”

“It does not!”

“You’re right. It doesn’t. But you were thinking it. Weren’t you?” He looks up with a smile on his face that’s both charming and cruel.

"I'm not playing whatever game you're trying to play with me right now, Leon."

It's the devil's edition of 20 questions, it seems.

He flips the pad closed, and says, “I’ll leave right now if you answer one question truthfully.”

“Fine," you huff, snatching the pad of paper and stashing it out of his reach.

“Did you go home and touch yourself while thinking about me?”

You shake your head vehemently. "No. Absolutely not."

“You couldn’t even make it home, huh? You did it right here, didn’t you?”

You don't have to answer - the look on your face gives it away.

“Was it on the couch? Right where I was sitting? Where I'm sitting right now."

“Fine. You win, you got it right. Are you happy now?” You concede because you want to end this conversation as quickly as possible, so you can go hide your face and die. 

You want him to fuck you within an inch of your life and then you'll die happily. La petite mort? That's what they call it, right? You want that.

Leon just hums in response, giving you no insight into his thoughts. Though it doesn't take a therapist to guess that he's mentally fucking you. To your surprise, he slaps his hands on his thighs and stands up.

When he gets to the door, you say, “Wait-”

“What?” He asks, nonchalant to such a degree that one might believe the events of the previous few minutes never transpired at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving. Like I said I would.”

“You’re just gonna leave? Do you get off on embarrassing people? Is that it?”

“No. I get off to you, and you know that." He's oddly defensive despite having the upper hand. "I also know that a large part of you despises me, but it’s because there’s a part of you that wants to fuck me.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He shrugs. “You’re the therapist, not me.”

“I’m telling your wife.”

“You’re going to tattle on me?" He laughs. “That wouldn’t be very HIPAA-compliant of you, would it?”

“Why are you doing this?" It feels like a nightmare that you can't escape where a terrifying shadowy figure is chasing you while you're screaming out for help and no one's listening. Except, this is more horrific due to the fact that you like it. Your thoughts about the man in front of you are downright depraved. You are both the monster, mirrors of each other. 

"I thought you wanted to fix your marriage," you say.

“My wife wants to fix our marriage. You and I both know it’s doomed. But you’re not allowed to say that, are you?”

You shouldn't be saying half the things you are right now, but it's too late to turn back now. You are the sunk cost. And the ship that was the concept of 'fixing Leon's marriage' has already sailed.

“You want the truth? I’ve known since the moment you opened your mouth that your marriage was done.”

“Then why did you keep having sessions? Was it for the money?” He pauses. “I doubt it. You’re a good therapist. You could get other clients. There was another reason. And, we both know what that reason is, but I won’t make you say it. I’m not that mean.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And that’s what you like most about me.”

“It is not.”

“Then what is it?”

“Fuck you!”

“Do you want to? I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Convince me.”

“Haven’t I already?”

“No.”

“Then why are you asking me to convince you instead of telling me to fuck off? You just want me to come up with a reason that doesn’t make you feel bad about doing it.”

“And there isn’t one.”

“No, there isn’t," he says with a bit of pity, knowing he's dragging you down into the second circle of Hell with him.

“You have to swear to tell your wife.”

“Is that a yes?”

He did not swear to tell his wife, but Leon is a cheater and a liar already. If he swore to tell his wife, you'd only be an idiot to believe him. 

“Lock the door.”

He turns around and flicks the lock. “Done.”

You stand up and his mouth is on yours. He’s the best kisser. Silver-tongued, you should've known it. You can fucking taste it too. Metallic. No, that's blood. You bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

You’re the one who starts undressing him first but he doesn’t make fun of you. He helps you out of your top instead.

“Goddamn you have perfect tits. It’s a shame you always keep ‘em hidden.”

“It’s a professional environment.”

“Yeah, it’s so professional that you fuck your clients in it.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

"Don't worry. You’re not the first therapist I’ve fucked. I’ll lead.” Leon lays you down on the couch  - roughly, but cradling your head so you don’t knock it on anything. 

You gasp. "Leon, the couch is damp from your wet clothes," you whine.

"I promise it'll be soaked by the time I leave."

Before you can open your mouth, he’s kissing down your chest, making his way to your panties. His tongue is good at more than just talking. He has you unraveling within minutes, moaning obscenely.

“As much as love your pretty moans, baby, we’ve gotta be quiet. Don’t want you to get fired.”

“I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t. You’re a good therapist, and a good girl.”

“You think I’m a good girl?”

“So good. And you taste amazing.” He places a kiss on your clit and you nearly cry, having forgotten the feeling of his tongue in the mere seconds you spent without it. “I want you to come in my mouth.” He sucks on your clit until you do.

Leon's lips are dark and puffy when they meet yours - the ones on your face. He asks, “How did you imagine us doing it?”.

“Mostly me on top of you.”

“It’s a good idea, isn’t it?” he says, placing featherlight kisses from your jaw down your neck.

You shake your head. “None of this is.”

“I know. You've got morals. You’re a good girl.” He pauses before whispering into the shell of your ear, “That’s why you deserve to have me however you want me.”

His right hand is busy holding you steady so he fingers you with his left. You watch as his wedding band slips in and out of your pussy along with his middle finger, giving a double fuck you to his wife with each movement.

He seems fascinated by the squelching sounds, no longer focused on getting his dick inside you. The heavy rain outside covers up some of the noise but not enough to save you the embarrassment.

"Jesus. Just fuck me already." You try desperately to avoid sounding desperate, praying he takes your irritation at face value.

But you're too obvious, you wear your sick, sick heart on your sleeve. 

"You want my dick that bad and you haven't even seen it yet."

"I hope it's as big as your ego."

"No you don't. That'd be painful, medically concerning probably."

You want to laugh because he manages to be funny and charming as hell despite being an absolute dick, but that fact makes you hate him more. And the blood that courses through you has nowhere to go but south.

All the while, his fingers refuse to leave your aching center. "Leon," you whine, pushing his hand away, "you're gonna make me cum again."

"I know," he purrs. "I wanna make up for all the months you've spent here by yourself, with your fingers inside you instead of mine."

"I was pretending they were yours." There's no point in saving the confession anymore.

"I'm sure you were, but I've got somethin' better for you, baby."

And, abruptly, he removes his fingers. You watch him unbuckle his belt, and despite this being your fantasy, you look at him like he's betrayed you.

"What?" he says, coyly, "I thought you wanted this."

"I do, but I was about to cum, and you just took your fingers away. You're such an asshole!" You pout like a bratty child.

"Yeah, I know I am," he says - his words are muffled by the square packet he tears with his teeth. He slides on the rubber barrier before he picks you up and sits you down on his cock, disregarding the obscene noises you make as he shoves himself inside you all at once.

You're wet but there's a stretch. His dick is big, maybe not as big as his ego, but bigger than any you've taken before. This is how he gets away with it, you think.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans. His hands have an iron grip on your hips. "You've gotta learn to loosen up and relax. You're too high strung. This is probably good for you."

It's not, you'll find when the orgasm wears off, but right now it feels really fucking good.

His thumb circles your clit while you bounce up and down, working well in tandem. Ironic, as you've made so little progress in your weekly sessions. As expected, the dual stimulation makes you slick with arousal, opening you up for him.

His voice sounds distant, droned out by your own moans which get even louder as his words get filthier. "Bet all your advice didn't work 'cause your brain was all fuzzy thinking about what my cock would feel like inside you. Or maybe you did it on purpose 'cause you wanted me all to yourself."

"No… n-no-" you say, voice trembling just as your thighs do.

"S'okay, baby. Girls with messy pussies like you can't help it. Just need to get some dick in you and then you can go back to being a good girl."

Can you? Maybe you can a 'good girl' in the bedroom, but a morally-upstanding woman? Even in your own eyes, he's corrupted you.

Still, you call out for him, "Leon," you cry, the singular syllable drawn out. You are lucky that the thunder from the storm is louder than your voice could ever be.

"I know," he says, "I'm close too."

The way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. 

You are oddly dissatisfied at the fact that he spills into the condom, not into you. It feels so impersonal. Because it is. It doesn't escape you that he didn't say your name - not even a pet name - just a simple 'fuck' when he came.

You point him in the direction of the trashcan where he can throw away the physical evidence of the mess you've made.

His pants are back on in a second while you remain naked on the couch.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," he says. "Ashley's making dinner. Don't wanna keep her waiting."

"You're gonna go home to her?" you say, more disappointed than surprised.

"Yeah. What did you think I was going to do?"

Truly, you weren't thinking. If you were, you would not have had sex with Leon. 

"I'm surprised you're not happy. I'm gonna go spend some quality time with my wife. That was your advice - wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but-"

"But what? You're our marriage counselor. I'm just trying to fix my marriage."

"You're doing an awful job."

"I know," he says, with his hand on the doorknob. "See you on Wednesday."

[chamomiletealeaf]

Olderbf!/kinda Sugardaddy!Price brainrot

Thinking about olderbf!/kinda sugardaddy!Price who buys you anything you could ever want. You grew up in a pretty money-tight household, feeling guilty when anyone spent money on you because you were so aware of how much things cost at such a young age.

But if you look at those shoes on sale you thought were cute for a little too long? It's wrapped up all nice for you by your door the next day when you get home from work with a cute lil note on the box.

"Saw you looking at these <3"

You mention craving your favorite food? He's taking you out immediately.

"Ugh __ sounds really good right now." You say as you walk into the kitchen to try and find food already in your fridge.

"Take out or dine in?" Price asks.

"What?"

"Do you want me to order it as takeout or do you want to eat there?"

You pause and look at him hand still on the open fridge door, taken a bit off guard. "I-"

He's already picking up his phone and wallet waiting for your answer. And when you don't answer, he does for you.

"Put some shoes on, let's go out hm?"

You try to hide your smile and blush as you make your way to the door where your shoes are, and where your boyfriend stands too, helping you put your jacket on.

Or when you two go shopping together and you get distracted by a section with CDs and vinyls as you see a deluxe vinyl of an album you've been wanting to get for your record player.

"Oh John look! Wow I didn't think they'd have this here! I've been meaning to try and get around to buying this!"

You pick up the deluxe album and turn it over to check the price, and your giddy smile fades a bit seeing it. You put it back, visibly a little upset as you furrow your brows a little and go for the regular album that's a little bit cheaper, which you note as you turn that one over and see the price.

"Hm. This one's a little cheaper." You say to yourself quietly, not thinking Price can hear as you go to put it into the cart, but he stops you.

"No." He grabs the album from your hands before you can place it in and you look up at him wide eyed. He doesn't make eye contact with you as he swaps the regular album for the deluxe one you wanted and replaces the empty spot in your hands with it.

He looks down at you and sees you cutely staring at him with wide curious eyes.

"I'm getting you the one you want bunny." He says with a smile. "Plus the deluxe version has more songs that I can watch you dance to in the kitchen so it's a win win." He says with a wink and your wide eyes fail to conceal the love for your boyfriend in that moment as it lights them ablaze.

Or on one particular bad day when you come home and do some online window shopping on your couch in your cart on Etsy to make yourself feel better. Your cart is filled with cute stickers, jewelry, fanmade merch for your interests, and cute trinkets to decorate your house with that you look at hoping one day you'll be able to afford to get them all. You definitely had money, but it was just enough to get you by with little left over. As you log into your account, you realize that your whole cart is empty.

"What?" You try and refresh the page, panicking a bit as you had so many things in your cart that you don't really want to go searching for again. It took a while for you to find them after all.

ding!

your laptop makes a noise as an email notification comes up

"Thanks for your order!"

You panic, thinking maybe you bought everything by accident, which you can't exactly afford right now, until Price comes up from behind you, leaning over the couch to nuzzle his face into your neck.

"Surprise bunny." he whispers into your neck smiling.

"John, what? what did you do?"

"You're always on that website looking at those things. Got tired of seeing you not have them. Plus, I'm always looking for a way to spoil my little bunny hm?" He smirks into your neck, bringing his hands around to grasp yours.

"How did you-"

"Shhh don't worry about it. I got you express shipping too. You'll get everything this week." He places a hand on your chin and gently turns your face to him and he kisses you, making you feel a warmth that no fire could ever provide nor compare to.

You're not selfish, both you and John know that. You don't need the little or big things he buys you, but boy does he love spoiling you with them, as it helps to heal the part of you that always felt guilty as a child when it came to spending and saving money on you, as your family never had much.

And there's nothing else John would rather do than spoil his pretty girl rotten just to see her smile.

[sabrondabrainrot]

Bring back LAES!

I'm steadily making progress on catching up on sun and moon show along with foxy and monty etc etc but it's pretty difficult when one of the main key plot lines is gone. I know a few spoilers thanks to fanfiction but I want to see the drama in person.

Here's some outfit ideas for tsams cause I'm a sucker for fashion and redesigns!

Order is, SolarFlare - Lunar - NewMoon - Old Moon - Sunny (Solar's dimension) - Sun

closeups and more brainrot under the cut!

Explaining my redesigns! Lunar - he's not really a redesign and more so an overdesign. I love adding tons of little details to him to really hammer home his star-ness. He's such an interesting little guy, like yes he acts childish but I can see he's really growing (SAD I CANT WATCH MORE CAUSE THE SHOW IS GONE). I saw the ep he killed Eclipse and homeboy revived. The entire time I was like "Waaahh Lunar??? Waaahhh???" but I love the drama ngl.

SolarFlare - Same as Lunar, not really a redesign I just drew him with no dirt. I really love his base design it's so neat it makes me think of like sci-fi concepts from the 80's. Something from fallout really. I think it's kind of funny Eclipse's aesthetics for SolarFlare when you compare him next to say Jack who Solar designed.

OldMoon - I just wanted to give him a sleek mad scientist cool guy suave vibe. I saw the more recent thumbnails of him with a turtle neck and idk that's just peak character design for me. I'm a simple woman put the dumb-dumb in a dark turtleneck. I want him to kind of look like the BadGuy TM (he's not actually) so he gets all edgy and hard edges and stuff.

NewMoon - I wanted to do a similar color scheme but instead he has lighter colors like more white incorporated into his fit. To give him the whole 'reborn' aesthetic. He's all like "old moon wore black well I wear white now I'm nothing like him so hah!" kinda thinking. I gave his cap a fur texture cause of that one ep he turned into a furry. I drew rounder stuff on him cause he's a big ol' softy sweety pie.

Sunny - Sunny is my headcanon of Sun from Solar's dimension. I think it's really interesting his default with no personality was theater performance and not say...doing daycare stuff? I feel like honoring the FNAF books with this design by leaning heavily into the theater performer look. I like to think in Solar's dimension Sun and Moon were originally made for theater. (so far in the show I've noticed Creator says 'they needed a daycare attendant' something like that so it comes off more like they were intended for the daycare from the start VS. Solar's dimension where Sunny's core seems to be more so for the performing arts.) I also wanted to make Sunny look different from Sun for the extra angst potential of "They're similar but not the same" so I leaned more into a blue palette for him.

Sun - I just wanted to give him big puffy everything. I took away the tutu. nothing against the tutu I just hate drawing the damn thing. I like to think Sun in main has white eyes because he's so burnt out from within. *badum tish* (eyes are the window to the soul-) I also covered him in stickers because he totally would just be covered in stickers from the kids. I also decided to give some of his rays cracks because I think he's extremely sentimental and even in a newly upgraded body (after using star power to defeat Eclipse the first time) he'd keep rays from his original body? I also put the cracks ones on the side of his face where Old Moon hit him. Why? Because it just seems like something Sun would do. I love him so.

Ok just some brainrot stuff, look away to avoid spoilers .

RUIN DESTROYED HOW MANY DIMENSIONS?? SOLARS DEAD. LUNAR KILLED ECLIPSE. DARK SUN IS PLOTTING??? MOON BE CRYING??? Also Francine just had a birthday! ONE OF THE BLOODMOON BOYS ARE DEAD AND SAME WITH ONE OF THE STITCHY BOYS??? HELLO?!?

I love the drama.

Also, I love how every single kid vibe checks Sun and he passes every time. Francine? She loves Sun and learns from him. FC? He ONLY feels safe with Sun for a bit. Barry? He hugged Sun after gonad checking him (a right of passage for the bunny kid). Jack? I'm pretty sure he literally is just one room away from Sun at all times (he also calls Sun's cats his master???). I have yet to see Dazzle, but Dazzle 10000% loves Sun (I've seen the edits).

ALSO? When Lunar was first brought into the family the first person he hugged was Sun and then later on when Earth was in danger he ran into SUN's arms for safety/comfort. They're family your honor.

Sobbing and Crying laying on the floor over Solar's death but I think he'll be back.

Also the molten thing with Ruin? I'm excited to see more.

I don't have a youtube account to post about saving LAES but if anyone wants me to draw more LAES just to help the community please let me know. I'm planning to draw my idea of Earth next.

[bunbunlovestowrite]

♥︎𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜♡︎

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙶𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚙 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚙. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏?

𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙱𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚖! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚃𝚘𝚙! 𝙶𝚘𝚓𝚘, 𝙶𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚌��𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜, 𝚗𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎, 𝚏𝚎𝚖! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚀𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜.

"Bye!" You call out to the last bus of kids going home, their faces pressed to the glass and you swear one kid licked the window. Gojo stood next to you, arms crossed with his blindfold pulled down around his neck. His white shirt was soaked from when the kids pranked him with God knows how many water balloons.

The other counselors had headed home when the bus left, leaving the two of you alone. The sun had given a golden glow to the world, tinting everything it touched.

Behind the two of you was the lodge. 2 floors with enough bedrooms for the counselors and a few bathrooms meant for two people. Gojo was your roommate for the summer, you can't count on one hand how many times you smothered him with his pillow to wake him up.

He straightened up and stretched his arms above his head, smirking at you. "You leaving now?" He asked, leaning his head back slightly. "No. I'm gonna clean up a bit." You tugged your sweater down slightly before walking up the lodge steps. He followed quickly.

"What? That'll take all night. You'll be here till tomorrow." He leaned over a bit to reach your eyes. "Exactly. That's one night all to myself. Loud music, a big cabin, I can clean in peace." You sigh dreamily at the thought. Gojo huffed and stuck his tongue out. "Cleaning isn't fun." He poked your cheek. "That's cause you never clean, Gojo." You giggle and poke him back.

He huffed again and rolled his eyes. "I clean!" Defending himself was hard when you opened the door to your dorm. Your side was neat and clean, with most trinkets packed up, while his was messy and you swear you heard his sock crunch when you picked it up.

"I heard your children screaming in here. 'daddy...daddy...help us'" you wave the sock at him. He gagged and swiped at the sock. "I can't pay child support right now." He tossed the sock in the bin behind him. "Broke." You say between fake coughs.

"How can men live like this?" you asked when you grabbed a shirt off the bed and saw countless crumbs fall off it. Gojo looked away in shame, scratching his cheek with a finger. "That's Geto's..." he lied. "I know it's not, because Geto is the cleanest person I know," you teased as you tossed the shirt at him.

You chuckled at his cry and grabbed your speaker. Stickers of various animated characters were peeling off it and its rose gold color was also peeling slightly. You needed a replacement, but this one had lasted so long and new ones were so expensive.

"When are you leaving?" You glance back at Gojo before connecting your phone to your speaker. He shrugged and sat on his bed. "Whenever my mom has someone get me." He laid back. You watch as his damp shirt lifted slightly, revealing his happy trail and an unshaved path of white hair leading below his pants. You blush and look away, mentally slapping yourself.

"uhm..y-yeah that sounds good." You jumble your words slightly and grab your speaker. "I'm gonna clean. Bye!" You practically scramble out of the room and slam the door behind you. Gojo raised an eyebrow but smirked, yanking his blindfold back up before going to sleep.

❦︎༒︎❦︎

It was some time later. The sun had gone down, and you had finished cleaning everywhere except the office. After tossing the broom into a closet, you threw yourself onto the couch to finally relax. The large windows in the main room revealed the high moon in the sky, casting its light on the massive lake, making it glitter.

You were snapped out of your trance when you heard a yawn and footsteps. Gojo walked in. His shirt was gone and he blinked one eye at a time. Shirtless Gojo was a sight you got used to, and oddly grateful to, during your summer here.

"You're up." He looked over at you, rubbing his eye. "Did anyone come by?" He dragged himself over and popped on the couch next to you. He grumbled and rested his head in your lap, cheek resting on your bare thighs.

"No. Sorry." You unintentionally whisper as he nuzzles against you. "Well, good thing I didn't get my hopes up." He grumbled while rubbing his thumb on your thigh. Your sweater's sleeves were rolled up and your skirt was slightly hiked up due to his thumb.

Your heart pounded slightly and his breath hit under your skirt, fading against your panties. You calm yourself and rest a hand in his hair, threading your fingers through it. "Well, now I'm stuck with you." You whisper again, making him chuckle.

His thumb rubbed your skin in circles, his eyes opened to look up at you. You were looking out the window so you didn't notice him. He blushed slightly at the angle. Your breasts were right in front of his face, a simple movement away from hitting him. But he was more focused on your face.

The moonlight streamed in through the window, casting a gentle glow on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. He rubbed his head into your hand, feeling a knot in his stomach at what he was going to say.

The two of you went to the same college, but you never spoke before this summer. He saw you in the halls, a biology major hoping to get into neurosurgery, and you were beautiful to him. But finding a way to speak to you was harder than anything else.

He reached a hand up and his finger brushed your cheek. "You're so beautiful." His voice was barely a whisper. You looked down at him, slightly shocked but he felt the heat on your cheek. "What? Did you hit your head?" You laugh slightly, feeling his forehead.

"No. No, I didn't." He lifted himself and was barely an inch from you. "Don't freak out." His lips hit yours with a gentleness you wouldn't have expected from Gojo. His hand cradled your head to deepen the kiss, his eyes shut. Your own eyes were wide for a second before they fluttered shut. You bring your hand up to cup his cheek.

He grinned against your lips and grabbed your hand, kissing your palm. "I knew you liked me." He glanced over at you from lidded eyes. "You did not." You laugh quietly. Gojo's smile grew slightly and he kissed down your neck, his hands sliding down the edge of your skirt.

"I want you. I want to taste you." Gojo was practically breathless as he kissed the crook of your neck, sucking on the supple skin. "Please. It'll feel so good." His hands tugged your skirt up, your white panties giving your obvious wetness away.

"Fuck Gojo." You gasp softly when his thumb pressed to your clit through the fabric, rubbing weak enough to make you want more. He knelt in front of the couch and held onto your thighs, spreading them more for him.

Gojo leaned in and kissed your inner thighs, nipping slightly at the skin. You didn't know what to do with your hands and you didn't want to pull at the leather so you placed them on his head, sorta grounding yourself by tugging at the white strands.

You shiver slightly when he slid your panties down and sneakily shoves them into his pocket. Thankfully you were too nervous to notice his thievery.

"O-oh God.." you clasp one hand over your mouth when he licked right up your cunt, groaning in ecstasy. You tasted like heaven to him. His cock was rock hard at his point. He ached, yearned, to yank his sweats down and fuck you into that couch, to make sure you couldn't walk straight for month. But he wanted this to be about you.

Gojo didn't waste a second and took your clit into his mouth, sucking on it gently with a few kitten licks here and there. The hand in his hair tugged harder, making him moan against your heat. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and yanked you closer, earning a yelp from you.

He chuckled against you before flicking his tongue against your clit in quick succession. Your hips writhed at this, your eyes widening. "Fuck Gojo! I-im gonna cum!" You yank his hair, pulling his face closer to your cunt. He moaned at this and kept his tongue at that pace.

Your back came off the couch and your toes curled. Heat spread across your lower body and you cum. "Gojo!" Your orgasm ripped through you and sucked any energy you had, your vision blurry with white spots.

Gojo kept his tongue flickering throughout your high and pulled away, slick connecting his lips to you until he licked it away. Your cheeks were hot and your legs trembled.

Gojo stood up, smoothed down your skirt, and then effortlessly picked you up bridal style. You rest against his chest and catch what breath you can.

He set you down on your bed, gently running his hand down your legs and taking off your shoes. He sat next to you and cupped your cheek, smiling slightly. "I would do more but Ms.Luncy took everything from the cabin." He tapped your cheek.

His smile grew when you held onto his wrist. He laid next to you on his side, cradling you close to his chest.

"Goodnight, Gojo."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

[666writingcafe]

Top Secret!!!!!

A Group Chat Involving Everyone but MC and Luke

Solomon: It's nearly time for me to give MC their preliminary exam. How many stars is MC up to?

Mammon: you serious, bro????

Mammon: you haven't kept track of mc's stars????

Mammon: old man alert

Satan: Four.

Solomon: Thank you, Satan. What other three virtues have been rewarded?

Diavolo: Gratitude from me.

Simeon: Patience from me and generosity from Luke.

Solomon: So, chastity, diligence, and humility remain. I was thinking of having us play Tail Thieves.

Asmo: I love you, Solomon, but no.

Solomon: What's wrong with Tail Thieves?

Asmo: One, it's a childish game.

Lucifer: ^

Asmo: Two, do you not remember how MC behaved the last time you tested them? They were BORED OUT OF THEIR MIND, and it impacted their performance as a result.

Beel: That's true.

Asmo: Any twists you come up with are going to be too predictable.

Solomon: *glaring crow sticker*

Solomon: I'm SURE you have a better idea.

Asmo: I do, actually.

Asmo: It involves testing their chastity.

Solomon: Go on...

Asmo: We'll seduce them.

Mammon: that's a stupid idea!!!!

Levi: youre just saying that because youre jealous

Belphie: *laughing emoji*

Beel: *gif of someone doing a spit-take*

Asmo: I'm being serious.

Asmo: During their last stay in the Devildom, I managed to charm them, which gained me access to their deepest desires.

Asmo: They have fantasies involving all of us. Tempting them with those will be the ultimate test of their chastity. If they're able to resist, then they earn the star.

Lucifer: That's actually a well thought-out idea.

Barbatos: ^

Diavolo: ^^

Solomon: *glaring crow sticker*

Solomon: Fine.

Solomon: Who's participating?

Levi: mammon and i are out

Mammon: speak for yourself!!!! the fuck???

Levi: if this is meant to really test mc then everyone has to commit to the bit and you and i both know that youd tap out the minute mc looks at you sideways

Mammon: *glaring crow sticker*

Levi: while ive gained some confidence i still wouldnt be able to maintain my composure long enough to complete something like this

Asmo: I will provide the necessary information, but I myself will not be seducing MC, as much as it pains me to say.

Satan: Of course it would pain you to say that.

Asmo: *eye roll emoji*

Solomon: Do you want to judge with me?

Asmo: I mean, I kinda figured we would, so...

Barbatos: My participation will depend on what I'm meant to reenact.

Asmo: Are you afraid it would conflict with your duties?

Barbatos: Yes.

Diavolo: Well, if you're worried about me stopping you, don't. It wouldn't be fair of me to expect you to sit this out if I'm planning on participating.

Mammon: WHAT??????

Levi: bro

Levi: he literally jumped out a castle window to be with mc

Levi: he's THIRSTY

Belphie: Unfortunately.

Asmo: Not to be the bossy brother, but Lucifer, you aren't allowed to back out.

Lucifer: Wasn't planning on it. I know where I stand in MC's mind.

Satan: You know, I think I might chill with Mammon and Levi. I thought about joining in the fun, but I don't think I have it in me to see things through.

Satan: And before anyone chimes in, no, it's not because Lucifer confirmed his participation.

Belphie: We know. If it was, you'd be trying to one-up him.

Satan: Thank you, Belphie. I TOTALLY wanted that out there. *eye roll emoji*

Beel: I'm in.

Belphie: Quick question: would it be fair of me to participate?

Asmo: Actually, you'd be PERFECT for this. You can argue that you know MC more intimately than ANY of us. You'd know what buttons to push to make them really sweat.

Belphie: Okay, cool. I'll do it, then.

Simeon: Me too.

Levi: lol what

Mammon: ayo, do you even KNOW how to seduce someone, simeon?

Simeon: How do you think I'm able to write some of the scenes in TSL?

Levi: well okay then

Solomon: So, to confirm: Lucifer, Beel, Belphie, Diavolo, and Simeon are definite participants, Barbatos is a maybe, and Mammon, Levi, and Satan are sitting this out?

Nine people liked Solomon's message.

Mammon: the three of us can keep an eye on luke. we can either help him run the cafe or take him out someplace fun.

Levi: you know you seem awfully chummy towards luke lately

Mammon: we bonded during our fairy hunt.

Asmo: Then that settles it. Solomon and I will meet with the volunteers for further discussion.

[000-pawz]

I NEEEED MORE DAD BONEDO HEADCANONS THEY ARE SO SILLY

OKAY OKAY (more under the cut cause i got carried away HELP) also this is my new universe guys so if u see more dad bnd posts, THIS IS THE REFERENCE I LOVE DAD BND

sungho

⭐ sungho girl dad agenda! no arguments!!! i also think sungho would have the most kids for some reason??? maybe 3? elementary age twins and then a baby (i will hold on to this for as long as i live)

⭐ he always wears the baby harness everywhere he goes

⭐ brings all the snacks to every single game. he's the cooler dad with all the caprisuns and cheese sticks

⭐ wakes up super early to make breakfast for everyone and pack lunches

⭐ helps his kids with all their homework and art projects. if his daughter shows up in your doorway in the middle of the night saying they forgot they had a project due tomorrow, he will run to the store at 1 am to buy glue sticks and cardstock to make sure his baby has a project to show for tomorrow

⭐ can be a little overprotective, but he just wants his babies to be safe!!! always reminds his kids that he'll come running whenever they need him

riwoo

⭐ i think riwoo would be a toddler boy dad!!! literally like an even minier riwoo

⭐ when his son was a newborn, he spent most of his time doing skin to skin contact, just soaking up the new feelings of being a father

⭐ supports his kid through EVERYTHING like if he wants to dress up as a pretty princess, he'd buying two tutus on his way home

⭐ very gentle with his disciplining. if his son draws on the wall, he'll show him how to clean it up and then softly explain why it's bad!

⭐ has a hard time saying no and WILL give his kid cake for breakfast if he asks

⭐ loves loves loves cuddling while watching animated movies, sharing a big blanket and snacks with his baby <333

jaehyun

⭐ girl dad to two girls!!! they're a year or two apart

⭐ #1 family guy and the leader of the neighborhood dad group chat

⭐ spoils them so so so so much!!! you literally have to tell him to stop buying them new clothes every other day because you're running out of closet space ><

⭐ shows off his kids to EVERYONE and always adds "they look just like their mama <3" with the biggest smile on his face

⭐ organizes all the barbeques and picnics, invites all the kids in the neighborhood (yes, even sungho's gremlin twins)

⭐ cries every time his kids make him a gift and gives them the biggest hug ever

⭐ also cries on every single birthday because why are they growing up so fast!!!!

taesan

⭐ i see taesan as a girl dad tbh </3 he'd probably only have one daughter too

⭐ reads his kid the most outrageous bedtime stories like why are you reading "1984" by george orwell to a four-year-old

⭐ would let his daughter record a silly intro for one of his songs and show her how he makes music

⭐ takes soooo many pictures of his daughter, like half of his camera roll is his daughter and the other half is you

⭐ his daughter always has the best outfits!!! would love matching outfits too

⭐ i think his daughter would subtly adopt his opinionated nature and then he would be confused as to why she's so sassy and opinionated >< the apple doesn't fall far from the tree taesan

leehan

⭐ boy and girl dada!!! <333 i think the girl would be older too?

⭐ is super annoying during drop-off and probably yells out the window how much he loves them just to embarrass them a bit

⭐ lets his kids do the most random things to his hair... you'll come home and leehan will have a head full of bows, cars, and stickers (you have to help him get the knots out later that night)

⭐ the easiest dad to talk to ever. never gets upset at his kids for confiding in him and always gives them the best advice

⭐ falls asleep in one of the kid's beds every night because putting them to bed is the most exhausting task ever

⭐ teaches his kids how to care for fish and lets them redecorate the take every now and then

⭐ takes his kids on random trips to aquariums, parks, museums (and no, he never asks for permission from you so you always find out in the most random ways, like your son showing you his new shark plushie from the gift shop)

[kedreeva]

I went to mcdonald's the other day with @redbirdblogs and when I got to the window to pay, the man behind it looked at me and noticed my Hellfire Club raglan, and he goes "Oh, I love your shirt!" and I said thanks, and then when he went to hand me my card back, his eyes went wide and I knew he'd noticed the Jurassic Park decals on my jeep, so I said "And the car?" at the same time he says "I love you." He handed my card back to me and repeated "I LOVE you." and then called it again after me as I drove to the next window. I was slightly concerned he might come around up to that window too and get in trouble, but he did not. Anyway, I hope that guy has a great day today. I love my silly little stickers, they have brought many smiles and joy into the world so far.

[riverianepondsims]

The Sims 4 to The Sims 3 - LittleDica Rise & Grind Coffeehouse Set

Quite some time ago, I mentioned that a café themed set was on the horizon - here it is now! ☕ Important info and download 💾 below:

About a year ago, I worked on several projects, but many things happened that prevented the release of them. This set was one of them - primarily, I make things for myself and my own use and post later. However, when it came to posting these, some items needed a little extra attention as I wanted them to look a little better, and I ended up adding more than I originally had. It's here now, so it all worked out in the end :) Some of you may have spotted some of these items in my Target set previews 🧐 bonus points to you. Most of LittleDica's sets are my absolute favorite from TS4, and I'm already working on more. Plan to see more of these and others soon! Here's what's included: Aroma Sensations Mural - Wall Deco Professionally Scribbled Chalk Drawing - Wall Deco Dracaena Lemon Lime Plant - Deco Splash of Coffee Mural - Wall Deco Artist's Café Mural - Wall Deco Napkin Holder - Deco Café Bar - Deco Surface with many slots Counter Straw Holder - Separated deco from café bar mesh Counter Menu Sign - Separated deco from café bar mesh Coffee Shop Wall Sign (Text) - Wall Light Coffee Shop Wall Sign (Round) - Wall Light Coffee Shop Wall Sign (Large Backlit) - Wall Light Preparation Station - Display/Miscellaneous Surface, has many deco slots for holding items Coffee Beans Bin - Floor Deco Coffee Bags Bin - Floor Deco Coffee Bean Silo - Deco Wall Menu Sign - Wall Deco Iced Drink Tumbler - Deco Coffee Machine Pods - Deco Coffee Mug - Deco Espresso Powder - Deco Corporate Window Stickers - Wall Deco Syrup Bottle - Deco Spice Shaker - Deco Reusable Hot Coffee Cup - Deco H&B Smooth Pro Blender - Functional food processor appliance Barista Professionista Coffee Grinder - Functional coffee machine appliance Functional EA Edit by Me - Separated Barista Bar - Fully functional version of the barista bar coffee machine without the counter. It is "floating" and does not require placement on a counter or surface. May want to use moveobjects and/or alt placement to place around objects and surfaces, but is very versatile and works just like the original! Dunkin' - Lot file, modified version of TKL4EVR's Great American Eateries Baskin-Robbins Lot. Around this time last year, Dunkin became my favorite go-to coffee, and mocha cold brew has got me through the rollercoaster of this last year! ☕️ I edited this lot for me, but figured I'd share. Place in: The Sims 3 > Library Collection File - collection file to find the items easy in build/buy mode. Place in: The Sims 3 > Collections > User 🔍 Search: You can search for riverianepondsims, LittleDica, or 2023 to locate the items conveniently using a catalog search mod.

- You can find all of my previous uploads conveniently by clicking “Navigation” on my blog and going to “Downloads” or visiting riverianepondsims downloads

My downloads will always be free, but if you would like to say thank you: Ko-fi ☕

💾 Download: SFS - Archive file ☕️🍩🥐

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

Zagan NSFW alphabet

This goes to my friend @katy-the-same-as-tsuki who's the biggest Zagan simp.

Aftercare

what they're like after sex

Sweet, as always. He'll help you take a shower and give you a quick massage to make sure that you didn't strain any muscle. He always carries a water bottle with him, because hydration is key, and gives it to you to drink a bit.

Body Part

their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's

He likes legs. His legs, your legs, anyone's legs. He's favorite work out excercise (other than sex with you) is running on the traidmill. He takes you out to gym dates where you both run together. He enjoys how the motion of running looks like, on him or you. If you squeeze him between your thighs, he will cum instantly.

Cum

anything to do with cum, basically

He's very scared of cumming inside because Astaroth told him way too many stories of unplanned human pregnancies. Even if he's fucking your ass or you're giving him a blowjob he'll pull out and cum on your back or face.

Dirty secret

pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs

He wants to get stepped on so much but he's too shy to say it out loud. Just, the thought alone of seing you from above as you put pressure on his chest or his back turns him on to an emberassing degree.

Experience

how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?

He has had his fair share of sex. Of course, Solomon, duh, but I think he also did it with Paimon. I have no explination, I just feel it in my balls. Maybe Paimon got really interested in Zagan's charms since they're kind of stickers and Zagan showed him how he does it. And long story short, at some point they fuck. Like all good friends do.

He only had sex with people that took the lead and told him how to do it (or fucked him, let's be honest) so he still needs guidence during sex for at least the first few times.

Favorite position

this goes without saying

He likes to top since he enjoys moving. Anything where he has to move is fine by him, though he does prefere changing positions every so often. It's not good to only work one set of muscles.

Goofy

are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous?

Once he opens up to you, he starts being more goofy in the moment. Maybe cracking a few jokes here and there or booping your nose during aftercare. His laugh is deep yet so adorable, you get cuteness aggression from it. If you make a joke during sex, he'll stop and laugh before slowly picking up pace. He can be serious as well, don't get me wrong, but having someone he can be more open to is also nice.

Hair

how well groomed are they?

He trims himself, but doesn't wax. If the hair was too long it would itch and if it was too short his skin would become irritated from sweat and running, so trimming it is. He's quite stubborn about this so even if you asked him to wax he wouldn't.

Intimacy

how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect

He's sweet and once he gets to know you better, he likes to leave small butterfly kisses all over your face. Before sex, he likes to first slowly strip off your clothes and he let's you do the same for him. He kisses every inch of skin he can while caressing your cheek and staring in your eyes lovingly. He's still shy, but he likes being romantic in the moment.

Jack Off

masturbation headcanons

When he unexpectingly gets a boner, he slowly retreats into his room. He closes all windows, doors, covers every nook and cranny to make sure nobody can see him jerk off. He fucks his hand and he's very rough because he wants to have it done and over with as soon as possible. Once he's done he cleans everything off and runs back outside like nothing happened.

Kink

one or more of their kinks

Praise kink, Dom/sub dynamic and masochism. He gets very mushy if you praise him. He likes knowing that he's serving you well. He likes subbing most of the time because he enjoys getting ordered around and being told/shown what to do. He, like everyone in Gehenna, likes getting hit. He can endure a lot, so don't hold back.

Location

favorite place to do the do

Always inside. He's too shy to try and do it somewhere where he could get caught. His favorite is inside the room you summon during the H-scenes. It's a lot better since nobody can get in.

Motivation

what turns them on, gets them going

Seeing you at the gym would instantly give him a boner. Especially if you're wearing short clothes. He'll probably try to keep it together until he finally snaps and rubs your arm to get your attention. He has a problem and he thinks you could solve it. He won't force anything on you, but at least let him take a photo to masturbate to.

No

Something they wouldn't do, turn offs

He's not into domming that much. He feels very uncomfortable being put in a possition of power and he'd much rather you tell him what to do and how than the other way around. He's also against getting tied up. The main thing he likes about sex in general is the movement, and if he's tied up that kind of ruins the fun.

Oral

preference in giving or recieving, skills, etc.

He'd much rather give. He likes serving and being ordered around, so having your thighs wrapped around his head and using his horns for support as you hump his face is his own version of paradise.

If you tried to suck him off, he would, at first, try to push you away. Yet he won't you if you persist. He get really mushy while being given head.

Pace

are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?

He's the one setting the pace more often than not. It depends on his mood that day, but he usually starts of slow so you two can both adjust to the feeling before picking up pace. If you tell him to slow down or move faster, he'll oblige. He's very considerent of your comfort so he doesn't want to overwhelm or underwhelm you.

Quickie

their opinions on quickies, how often

He wouldn't do them unless you asked him to. I mean, of course, if you almost fainted from lack of devil energy, he'll find a dark corner and do it there, your life is more important than his anxieties. But he wouldn't go out of his way to have them either.

Risk

are they willing to experiment? Do they take risks?

He is willing to experiment as much as possible. He's very flexible both in body and mentality. He might be shy at first, but he'll get into it quickly. Just tell him before hand. He would feel very confused if, in the middle of sex, you started calling him "daddy". He's not against it per say, whatever makes you happy, just tell him so he isn't caught off guard by it.

Stamina

how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?

He has infinite stamina, but each round is quite short. It's not his foult that you're so pretty and so tight and you tease him so much he just can't last for long with so much stimulation. He'll go for as many rounds as you can, because he doesn't want you to wake up sore all over, but each turn lasts about 3-4 minutes.

Toys

do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partener or themselves

He doesn't own toys, but once his partner introduces him to them, he'll constantly ask to use them. On himself, mostly. His favorite is a butt plug with a bunny tail attached to it. He might ask you if he can keep it.

Unfair

how much they like to tease

Not that much. He would rather be teased by you. He would at most show off his shooting abilities when he notices you staring, but nothing more. You have an important job to do and he can't be the reason you get distracted. Go save the world and than you can ogle at him as much as you'd like.

Volume

how loud are they? What sounds do they make?

He's very quiet only occasionally letting out chocked moans and groans. If you tease him, he'll whimper and if you don't let him cum he'll whine. He's non-verbal, but he will thank you for the oportunity once you're done for the night.

Wildcard

a random headcanon for the character

Once Satan kicked him so hard that he came on the spot and now he's constantly trying to annoy Satan enough he does it again.

Yearning

how high is their sex drive

When he's with you, he does tend to get flustered and think about more impure thoughts, but he can focus if need be. Sex once every two weeks or something along those lines is enough for him.

Zzz

how quickly they fall asleep afterwards

It's very unlikely that your human stamina will outlast his, and even then he's careful not to fall asleep before you. He needs to protect you, and he can't do that if he falls asleep too swiftly. Also, he sleeps with his eyelids half opened (like a rabbit) and he doesn't want to freak you out with that.

[rel124c41]

GOT YOU (WHERE I WANT YOU) (AS HEARD IN THE MOVIE DISTURBING BEHAVIOR). jade leech

In Jade’s logical mind, there is only one concrete truth: You are getting bored of your boyfriend.

1/3.

tags: no grim AU, established relationship, social criticism, piercings/tattoos, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort, punk!jade leech

word count: 9,684

It is hard to pin down when it started. 

For a man who likes to keep himself organized – his books, his shoes, his bedsheets, his life, his mind – it should not be this difficult to pinpoint the start. Perhaps because this change can be attributed to a number of variables, it puzzles him so. In his mind, he tries outlining all of them: Is it because your three month honeymoon phase has passed?; is it possibly an underlying issue he has never noticed?; or, could it be — well, Jade would rather not think about that third option. 

Perhaps it is not really important to pin down when it started. Does the beginning matter when already so deep in the middle? Besides, there is a more pressing matter at hand: “How about this one,” Jade holds it up to his brother, “if you do not use it, I’m throwing it away.”

What he holds in his hand is a long sheet of glistening paper. A tattoo sticker measured to be a full arm sleeve that depicts a lion head at the top, prayer hands, and three crosses at the bottom like headstones. Not Jade’s style. “Naaaah.” And apparently, not Floyd’s either. Jade tears it down the middle and discards it in his trash. 

As he flips through the other choices, the same question winds itself around in the train station of his mind, stubbornly refusing to halt. It is hard to pin down when it started. When did it start?

Maybe it started in the prologue. Or perhaps it predates the prologue, starting in the preface. The preface where his stomach twisted itself into the most complex, intricate sailor knots when you looked at him. That awful preface where he had to hold a hand to his heart to muffle the sound of it when you smiled at him. 

If he was trying to pin down when his attraction towards you emerged like some parasite, there are so many prefaces to start upon. For example, there is the time when:

You sat perched on the cobblestone wall in the main courtyard with a pocket-sized copy of Animal Farm in hand, balancing it between your fingers like teacup ceramic. Dark, heavily mascaraed eyelashes flutter as your eyes slice up each sentence and devour them on your tongue like greasy, hot pink stripes of bacon. Then, those cold marbles – that looked at him fleetingly, glossed over like he was not worth dissecting – caught him beyond a window and held eye contact undeterred. 

– or –

You sang with a microphone in hand, caught in a spin with one leg tucked up so your skirt fluttered with your single circulate, “Exhibitiiion is the name! Voooyeurism is the game!” Pinched between forefingers, you lifted up an edge of the box pleat skirt to cheekily reveal a lace pair of coconut white thong panties. In the back, Floyd — who Jade was sent to retrieve after he abruptly left his shift at Mostro Lounge — hammers away on the drums, taking up the spot for an ill Kalim at your pleads.

– or –

The time you had piqued the eel-mer’s interest by stumping and finding a flaw in his land knowledge due to a simple misunderstanding. Jade – who admittedly still had a lot to learn about the current world above sea – had heard in the rumor mill he frequented that you wore a two-way. He had assumed it was something less than innocent until you flipped open a prehistoric device not even talked about in Land Boot Camp and told him excitedly it was cutting-edge technology from your world.

– or – “I like that one.” 

Snapped out of his reminiscing, Jade blinks down at the tattoo sticker he has not fully been paying attention to. It depicts an oceanic scene of a Poseidon made of water rising from the waves where a doomed ship falls into an octopus’s grip. It also ends with a sunken statue head of Poseidon where Jade’s wrist would be.

The one that Floyd likes, Jade does not find himself sharing the sentiment. Bit too on the nose. Besides: “I don’t think (Name) would though.” Which is why he goes to place it back down. His bones jolt in surprise before he can pick up the next one.

“AHA! I knew it! ‘Just wanted to change my own aesthetic’ – knew this was for Shrimpy.”

On Jade’s desk, sixteen more of the remaining tattoo stickers lie. Fifteen remain on the desk when Jade pointedly analyzes one to ignore Floyd’s revelation. He subtly grits his teeth in annoyance, upset that by slipping into memories, he also allowed his words to slip.

“It is not for her. I am simply keeping her preferences in mind. We are dating after all.” 

Those concrete words – dating – help to alleviate a small sliver of Jade’s anxiety over his current situation. That despite the feeling of everyone wanting to have a piece of you, he had been the only one to succeed. He got the whole pie and he would not be sharing a slice with anyone. He is impossibly greedy to the end.

Yet, it seems his disdain for this situation (because it is so hard to pin down the start of it) must show on his face. “Aw poor Jade.” His brother’s voice is more mocking than sympathetic. “Trouble in Shrimpy paradise?”

“Nothing of the sort.”

Floyd hums as he leans back into bed. “It totally is. I can see it ya face.”

“Please, keep talking. And I assure you will soon find out what talking while missing a tooth feels like.”

“Hehe. Yeah, you wish.”

“Wishing is for people afraid to act. Let me remind you, I am very much a do-er.”

The laugh that escapes Floyd is genuinely amused. Jade drops fake malice from his grin into something softer. At least, Jade can count on his brother for when matters in life get too complicated, both can retreat to this small dormitory and rely on the other.

Matters of dating are so complicated and unnecessary. For moray eels in the Coral Sea, the equivalent of dating involves typically half a decade of elaborate gifts and proving themselves as a fierce protector before a kiss even happens. On land, it has proven to be much more complex. Friends can evolve to lovers; they can vary from lasting three months to two years to the rest of their lives. How fickle. Cater Diamond had mentioned that phrase humans go through, a three month honeymoon, before the other partner ‘flakes out’ (Cater’s words) with their affection. When a child grows bored, they find a new toy under the Christmas Tree to tear into.

Jade likes to think you would not be the type … but, as observative as he is, he knows better. It is almost scary how similar and identical the disposition between you and his brother is. You two are always chasing the next high. Fluttering through life, you refuse to be bored ever. 

Which is why, perhaps, Floyd is finally able to pinpoint the start. After an interlude of silence, shuffling through a few more prints, Floyd breaks the quiet with a contemplative sentence. “It’s because of that time ya went to that record store, ain’t it?”

Hooked like a fish, Jade only gives his acknowledgement of Floyd’s response by tearing a lightning bolt through the sticker. A faultline forms through a pinup sitting cheekily on a pair of dice and a heart with a king’s crown hovering over it. As the casino-themed sticker is casted aside into the trash, his twin knows he hit the nail on the head. 

“Pike Cichlid again? That guy’s so lame. He’s got nothing on you, Jeido.” And though his twin’s encouragement is genuine and coming from a good place, it is like a teaspoon of water thrown with intent to douse out a forest fire.  

That had not been the start. It had been when Jade had already found himself waist deep in this situation. So rarely caught off guard or unsure of where the start is, this whole situation seems to be the equivalent of a trap. Is love not one of life’s most fantastical imprisonment? Covered in saccharine sentiments, love can hide the worst and best in one’s self. It certainly seems that way when Jade found his ankle crunched between love’s many bear traps.

He had only noticed at the record store. Numbness worn off. Pain crashing in. And, after watching you laugh so genuinely and talk so animatedly and dance so freely, Jade realized he had fallen into an emotion that he thought he could avoid for his entire life with demure logic.

“I love that band!” Before Jade realizes what had happened, your hand had slipped out of his. The clunk of your platforms sound like ricocheting gunshots on the floor. “I thought I was the only one that knew about it.” 

You glow a bit brighter with your excitement. As a frequent observer, Jade knows when the zenith of your excitement floods through each of your veins like lightning chords of gaiety. It shows so clearly on your face. You have not glowed in a while because of your concerns of filling Cater’s and Lilia’s spots in the band. A band to you is family. So, seeing someone across the store pick up a record you know fairly well, it causes each synapses of joy in your veins powers on; you glow a bit brighter, smile a bit wider. 

Before he can even cover the distance between the rows of records, your mouth is moving a mile a minute. You are asking about their favorite single off the album, diving into history you know about the makings of the album, and (simultaneously jumping in place and swaying back and forth on the balls of your heels) talking about the chords you like the most, imagining yourself fully dancing along to them. Your energy is infectious. Like a sun in a solar system, everyone turns their face to you to feel your warmth. It is because of this bewitching nature of yours that Jade is late to revealing who you are talking to. 

Until he notices the macaw feather that dangles from the stranger’s left ear and the golden bracelet wrapping up the stranger’s wrist, that odious laugh falling from the stranger’s lips and disrupting your laugh … Insecure is an adjective that poorly describes Jade; it is not synonymous with himself. 

Other people have made you glow: Cater, Kalim, Floyd, Lilia, the list can go on. It has yet to bother him with those people. Watching how you glowed at that time was somehow different. It is different than watching Floyd bind himself around Riddle Rosehearts or Azul suction himself to Jamil Viper. The glue between the three of them is tighter than a breakable bind or a suction; their new friendships are insignificant and do not worry Jade. However …

“Nothing on me? I am assured that that guppy is irrelevant. I am hardly worried.” 

The way fate sorted out their Unique Magic is nothing sort of an advantageous miracle on Jade’s behalf, what with the way Floyd’s gold eye narrows in skepticism. 

“Sureee.”

The center of the situation is this: Jade could not go back to being nothing in your eyes. A sentence to skim over. A body to ignore in the crowd. A musical chord progression you do not find interesting enough to play. 

So, he pulls out another tattoo sleeve sticker from the pile.

It depicts a scene of engorged, psilocybin mushrooms with fat stems that travel in a mountain trail spiral. Some of the psilocybin will reach up to the skies on his shoulder. Like a giant artifact, a larger-than-life skull is found on this pathway, vomiting up bulbophyllum phalaenopsis. Which are actually interesting species of flowers Jade would love to tell you about as long as your attention persists.

“Help me apply this.” 

“We’re twenty. Why don’t ya just a real tattoo?”

“Pliers or my fist?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I got ya.”

If you put up with him a bit longer, he will prove the rest of the student body is dull. 

With two of your band members graduated, it has been a wild scramble from both you and Kalim Al-Aism to find people to fill those holes. 

This timeline, Jade has outlined perfectly. In September, yours and his relationship was on a rocky tectonic plate. Switching and rolling between the waves of will they, won’t they. Even though you were only friends, Jade had V.I.P tickets to the absolute distress of coming back to practice with only a drummer and singer to make up the formation of a four person band. He has never seen you act so distraught:

“You played bass?” Though the structure of it was a question, it sounds more like an accusation coming from your mouth. Marching into his space, you aim the question slash accusation at him like a knife. Your face and eyes are not friendly at that moment. The expression on your face reeks of perfidy, like he is some knight that committed treason against his King.   

Which Jade finds ridiculous and endearing. The emotion in your voice as you ask him about the instrument he used to play in middle school is just so uncharacteristic that it makes him hum happily.

Not bothering to stop in his trek, Jade says with an artful dodge, “Yes. Floyd, Azul, and myself happened to be a band.” Then, he no longer elaborates. He wonders how you found out. Though, right now, he focuses on making his strides short so you can scurry after and match his pace.

“And you what? Never thought to mention it to me?” 

There you go, faithfully matching his steps. 

“Is it really that interesting to you?”

“I’m in the Pop Music Club. Of course it is.”

“My apologies, I did not anticipate my middle school years would be so interesting to you. Are we to now have slumber parties and reveal our deepest, darkest secrets to each other while watching a romantic comedy?”

“Jade, this is friendship 101! You tell your best friend about your time in a Band.” You say band with the paramountcy as if you found out he has been secretly working undercover for the Mafia. Capitalized importance aside, you look so cute when frowning. He wishes you were his. 

“So did you use a Fender, a Gibson; I think you strike me as an Ibanez man! Oh … wait, those brands might not exist here though, right?” The way your frown morphs into genuine sadness causes something odd – concern? – to twist in his guts. Hoping to alleviate your stress, Jade answers punctually.

“I’m afraid I never heard of those brands. I played a Downton brand double bass.”

“... Double bass?” 

The face you are directing towards him is horrid. It isn’t cute like when you are drawing your lips into a pitiful pout; it does not have him chuckling with satisfaction when you look at him like he has betrayed you. It is something else entirely. He has seen it before at the start of the Entrance Ceremony, where you surveyed the crowd like each individual was a wad of gum on the bottom of your soles, observing everyone’s matching robes; this is some private university, isn’t it, you spat with disgust. 

Is jazz really that disgusting to you? He had never known you hated it so.

As you look at Jade like he is vomit upon your shoes, his heartbeat quickens. Under your breath, you mutter, “Ah … nevermind … that’s not what I meant. Shit.”

“(Name)?”

“Thanks for your help, Jade. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“For that sleepover? I would not miss it for the world,” Jade jokes with his customer service smile. 

Trying to appear unbothered, he beams. It is disheartening because you are rushing away from him, lengthening your strides twice as long as his. At least, won’t you depart on a lighthearted joke and laugh with him? It would soothe some of his worries. Yet, you simply rush away, distractedly muttering, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

Then, you have slipped through his grasp once again.

However, that September night, about three months ago, you did apologize to Jade for your rudeness. As you both took to watering your extensive number of pots housing oleander and planting talismans into the soil to ward off the three, ill-tempered ghosts in Ramshackle, you explained about how you are simply in a rush to fill up the spot that Cater Diamond and Lilia Vanrouge left behind. As the singer, you felt responsible for finding two new players – bass guitar and electric guitar. 

Plucking a straw of sage incense from its paper sleeve, Jade assured you it was of no harm. He understood you felt a little lost without the cement foundation of a band. He knew why too. As wisps of sage incense bloomed the stick’s tip, Jade took to telling you, sincere and quiet, that he would allow you to lean upon him if you needed to.

Still caught between the riptide of will they, won’t they, both of you grew flustered. The rest of the nightly ritual of implanting protection charms and talismans against ghosts was spent in silence. That night in the parlor, you two sat a little closer to each other on the moth-eaten couch.

That had been some time ago. Since then, you managed to fill both of those spots after a lot of trial and error. Cater and Lilia had left some impressive shoes to fill, one the wildcard bass player and the other the mediator guitarist. Those sacred spots could not just be given to anyone who could successfully play a simple riff; those spots were meant for someone who viewed music as a lifeline and chords as their heartbeats. At least, that is how you described it to him.

Forming a band – in Jade’s eyes – is much like forming a business. All the gears need to be oiled and attuned to each other. Where one section is struggling, the others must take up the helm. As Azul, Floyd, and himself balanced each other out, you, Cater, Lilia, and Kalim did the same. Though the new gearheads you have acquired might be a bit too clunky or rusted, it seems that your personal business is going well. 

Jade only wishes you would not mix business with pleasure – despite the glaring fact that your business is your pleasure. 

Jade likes to imagine your pleasure lies somewhere else, perhaps with him.

Right now, Jade is so engrossed and deeply in the middle of business. At least until Floyd barges through the V.I.P door, loud enough that he startles the pen out of Heartslabyul student’s hand. Jade watches, stifling a grin all the while, the delicate roll the pen makes as it falls away from the contact and moves down the marble table.

“Floyd,” Azul barks indignantly. 

Delighted and elevated, Floyd takes no qualms with Azul’s harsh tone. Instead, humming a light tune that Jade does not recognize, Floyd sweeps into the private meeting with a drink in his hand. His twin seeks him out right away, making his way over to the couch he is seated upon, nudging a glass in Jade’s face and repeating, “Try, try, try!”

As Jade takes the milkshake glass in hand and swirls the peppermint patterned straw, the words of Azul’s annoyance at his twin are a great thing to hear. “Floyd. How many times must I remind you not to interrupt these important meetings. I’m terribly sorry …” Jade does not listen to the student’s name, having already forgotten it, as he takes a sip of the ruby red concoction in front of him. The taste of chocolate raspberry floods his tongue.

“But, Azuuul, try this.” The peppermint straw is forcibly removed from Jade’s mouth as his twin bends it towards Azul (who sits on the same couch as Jade).

The housewarden’s face crinkles with disgust. “I would rather not. Sharing food with you two is extremely unhygienic.”

“I’m clean.”

“You wound me, Azul.”

“The both of you,” Azul grunts, shaking his head. He turns back to the Heartslabyul student, noticing the pen at the very least back in the victim’s hand. Anger mulled over a bit, he instructs Jade sternly, “Jade, tell your brother to take back his drink. We have specific times that we discuss menu item additions.”

“But I don’t know the recipe, Shrimpy made it,” Floyd whines.

“Well, quite frankly, I don’t care about that. She can —.” But before Azul and Floyd can get into an argument, Jade interrupts.

“Raspberry Riptide.” He looks contemplatively down at the red slush. Takes a sip so deep that his cheeks hollow a bit. “Hm,” he hums with the taste on his tongue, “or perhaps, Red Sea.” The milkshake glass is about halfway lighter than before when the vice-housewarden stands up elegantly. 

“Huh?”

As Jade starts to speak, musical and low, he methodically takes off his blazer plus scarf and rolls up the sleeves of his lilac undershirt dorm uniform. “I’m quite assured we have everything completed here. Our dear card soldier seems to have come to a conclusive decision. I’ll return shortly.” And even if the card soldier is hesitant, the way Jade’s new tattoo moves as he flexes his forearm should be warning enough. Don’t make a dumb move. 

As Jade and Floyd exit, the sound of a pen scribbling on a contract their departing sound, Jade reflects on how much influence tattoos hold. 

Appearances are influential. One must learn how to construct their appearance to be what they want to be perceived. Perception starts with the linear body, speech and action comes secondary. The beginning there is easily defined and clear-cut. How you look makes all the impact stick, as Floyd has found with shoes and Jade has found with keeping his outfits ironed so neatly that not a thread is out of place. 

Tattoos hold a certain volatile quality about them. Coming in such a wide variety of styles, images, and spots, each tattoo is scrutinized by an outsider’s perspective with so many unpredictable thoughts. Their father has an oceanic canvas of the Sea Witch dragging the princess’s boat down to the watery depths, all done by the extensive method of chisel tattooing. The scene inscribed upon his shoulder blades and spine commands respect. Depending on how a person wants to present themselves, they seek to alter their appearances in the best way to match their embellished image of themselves.

You’re in your uniform. Jade observes it as Floyd and him close the distance with a warm smile. Not an NRC uniform of any sorts, rather the uniform Crowley gave you for your job as janitor. You are not enrolled as a student in this college on account of having no magic.

Your appearance goes like this: the top of your coveralls is tied around hips to expose the tight, form-fitting tank top you have underneath; bumblebee yellow mechanic gloves are gripped in your right hand which you balance on your waist; a pair of thick stereophones hang around your neck (ones you found in the back of a dusty, unused computer lab); and, lastly, there is a smudge of oil on your cheek like a delicate kiss. 

“Try hitting the switch now,” you instruct the Mostro Lounge worker. “Don’t hold it longer than five seconds but don’t do it less than three either. Got it?”

As the worker does as told, Floyd whispers to his brother, “Shrimpy been textin’ ya back?”

Displeasure presses an intimate kiss to Jade’s lips. As he scowls, he says with polite resistance, “As of this moment, no. That is typical though; her communication device is quite primitive and, frankly, faulty on its best days.”

“Hey, if Shrimpy heard you talk about her pager like that, she’d slap ya.”

“Perhaps. But I’d accept any reaction of her’s.”

“Sap. Ya let her kill ya?”

“I would not be opposed.”

And since they are drawing closer to you and the trash compactor you had been fixing, his brother sings one last time, “sap~” before pushing Jade towards you. Not as though he needed the shove, you were his final destination after all. Still holding the milkshake glass, predictions about what you will name it floating around in his head, Jade presses the chilled glass upon your pierced ear.

You jump; you squeak like a mouse; then, you turn your body sharply towards Jade with wide, surprised eyes. How absolutely adorable you are. The hand holding your gloves holds itself protectively over your ear as you stutter, “J-Jade! What was that!”

Giving you a toothy, mischievous grin, Jade pulls the drink so it is eye level with you. “Shouldn’t you recognize your own handiwork?” 

Get it; as you are a handyman of this college? Jade waits patiently as you open your mouth, perhaps to tell him he isn’t funny (he is) or – well, your retort is unknown as the student by the sink’s trash compactor cheers happily, “it’s fixed!” And whatever fleeting amount of your attention Jade was gifted with immediately flies towards your actual handiwork. You are a bird forever uncaged.

“Good,” you say. “Now, be more careful with what goes down there. Pasta and bread, no matter how little of it, shouldn't be thrown out in the disposal. It clogs. Got it?” The staff member nods as you take to slipping your gloves inside your coverall pocket. “Good, good,” you tut in repetition. 

With that, you lean down to organize your suitcase of screwdrivers and wrenches. You are filing away your hex keys by sizes. As you do, Jade steals your attention once more, “Have you ever considered working at Mostro Lounge?”

You stifle a laugh and reply with sarcasm — without turning to Jade’s disappointment — “, of course. It’s been my lifelong dream to work after high school.”

“If you are diligent about it, I’m sure you can secure the position. It would allow customers to indulge in the drinks from an alien race.”

“Alien? Heh.” Focus entirely on your plies, you click and snap each tool back into their proper placement in the suitcase’s labyrinth. “I was thinking of naming that extraterrestrial drink Raspberry Riptide.” Your head then turns and Jade almost anticipates finally getting to see your eyes. Instead, chin parallel with your shoulder, you continue, “or Red Sea. I couldn’t decide.”

“Both are creative choices.” Jade smiles fondly behind you, proud of himself for guessing correctly both of your workshopping names for the drink you made. He thought surely only one of them would be right.

“Too much alliteration in the world.”

“I disagree, you can never have enough alliteration.”

“Riveting Raspberry Riptide?”

“Riveting, Rapid Raspberry Riptide?”

You laugh, hand hovering by your lips, and it is as if all the tides have gently washed over Jade’s body. Whenever he is around you, it feels like he has drunk hundreds of candied milkshakes and smoothies. So saccharine, your mere voice leaves a tattoo of sweetness on his taste-buds. 

“You’ll have all your customers tongue-tied trying to say it,” you chuckle and close your suitcase. The back of your neck is exposed as you latch all the locks. Truly, you do leave yourself too unguarded around him. 

You almost hit him with your thick suitcase as you whirl up and around, giggling happily, “Hey! What’s with you today!” The back of your neck drips with the condensation from the bottom of the Riveting, Rapid Raspberry Riptide’s glass. An appreciative hum bristles in Jade’s ribcage as he catches the scent of dark oil and rich sweat radiating off your body.

Finally, looking at me again. 

“I assure you, I’m acting as I typically do.”

You appear unconvinced. “Mmm, yeah right.” Those seductive witchcraft eyes map a miniature flight across Jade’s visage. “Hey, you aren’t in uniform. What gives?”

He wonders how long it will take you to discover it. Scrutiny is not a labeled weakness or strong suit of yours; your observance skills are perfectly average. However, Jade’s patience for this has been biding a fair enough amount of time until you two collided paths again. He wants to drink your reaction now. Swirling the fountain glass, red undulating in the glass like blood in his veins, Jade waits.

“Well? Is this a guessing g–?” Then, your torpid eyelashes bounce up, suddenly alert. It is good for you that Jade has a .00001 probability rate of ever spilling anything in the lounge, or you would have ended up with a new color on your tank top. “Holy hell! Jade!”

“Fufufu … don’t squeeze too hard now. The skin is quite tender.”

You hold onto Jade’s right arm as if it is a rope thrown out in rescue. As if it can save you from the boredom you must have felt all day without him here at your side. Content to be a helpful hand, Jade allows (perhaps even preens under) your constant ministrations. You are like an unstoppable force. He only has to stop when you attempt to twist his whole arm, which would have surely split Riveting, Rapid Raspberry Riptide all over yours and his shoes.

A mischievous (yet almost softly giddy) smile anchors up Jade’s lips. Silver teeth peek through as he requests, “Would you perhaps kindly indulge me on your … mile-a-minute thoughts?” 

Bouncing on the balls of your feet, tracing the lines, you are full of energy. Each time your nail scrapes across the outline of a psilocybin’s stem or traces along the edges of the skull, it sends a brillant tingle up his spine. You look as if you hope to memorize the new artwork upon his skin like it is enchanting braille.

“Jade.” You squeeze his wrist and he thinks the bones might bruise. “Jade!” A wide smile blinds. “This is so, so cool! And the mushrooms! Oh, I love that it fits you so well. There’s more above your elbow right; does it go all the way up? When did you get this done?”

“Floyd helped me with it last night. The design –”

“He did the design!” You turn your head, waving at Floyd who is pestering and stealing bites from a line-cook. “Floyd!” His head springs up. “This looks so good!” From far away, Floyd’s thumb pops up to get you a positive response, chewing on rosemary bread he stole. Your mouth only halts from shouting out something from across the room again, uncaring of who hears, when something wet touches your cheek.

Like a turtle, you shrink away. Wide-eyed, you turn bewildered to stare as Jade as he removes his thumb from your cheek. “You had a bit of oil on your face.” The material of his glove is slick with his own spit and your oil. It seeps into the fabric like gray moss. 

Those centipede legs of mascara flutter. Your face slowly morphs to a brighter hue, rosing up with a blush, as you suddenly turn your head away. It almost seems like you will continue your conversation with Floyd. Has his actions offended you? He had anticipated a thuggish smile on your face, not a quick, avoidant head-turn.  

Under your breath, you still urge him to tell you more about the tattoo by saying, “It is a very intricate design. You and your brother work well together.” 

“Fufufu, I’m glad you think so.”

You blink hard twice at the floor before remusing being yourself. Looking up at him, you question, “So, how’d it feel to be under the needle?” When he gives you a befuddled quirk of his lips, you supply him with, “during the tattoo?” That does not clear up his confusion.

“It was done with a sticker. The magical properties –”

“Boring,” you mumble under your breath. It is an ugly truth; you never say comfortable lies, too blunt for that. No guilt is your eyes. Perhaps because you thought he did not hear. 

Your words spear through Jade’s chest like a whale-hunting harpoon. Or more appropriately, eel-hunting. Yet, he continues steadfast in his explanation, making sure not to stumble once. “Magical properties make it –” Yet once more, he is interrupted and it is by a student saying that they need you to look at the light fixtures while you are still here, maybe Mostro Lounge blew a fuse somewhere, could you please check?

Everyone needs to disappear. It is the only coherent thought in Jade’s mind as he shimmers silently in anger. If everyone could go away today and forever after, he would not have to play an elaborate game of hopscotch to keep your attention on him.

Always in motion, you reply to the student (who will now be working overtime tonight and receiving less pay too), “Yeah! I’ll be right there!” To him, “ Tell me about it later, yeah? I’m sure it’s … cool!”

Then, you stand on your tippy-toes to kiss his cheek. He imagines the distance must feel like a burden. After such a torturous day fixing areas of the campus, do your toes ache when you have to kiss him?

“Well, I have to shuffle along. Ain’t no rest for the wicked.”

Suitcase in hand, you follow after the student. The glass in Jade’s hand has started to drip, condensation like a dewy rainforest on the shining surface. Love you. He watches you with a forlorn brow, missing you already. Who knows when you two will see each other. It is like trying to keep track of a bus that never arrives on time, always unpredictable.

Until next time, Jade thinks, certain. 

A moment or two pass.

You come barreling back into the kitchen.

You almost wipe down a staff member holding a tray of drinks. Yet, still moving like a train, you push a hand under the silver metal, steady its balance effortlessly, and continue on your track steadfast. Your destination? Well, it is quite clear as you drop your suitcase and tightly interlace your fingers with Jade’s gloved ones.

He blinks twice as you stare with the magnitude of a galaxy. 

“You! Scarabia! Tonight! Will you come!”

The smile you knocked off his face in surprise slowly re-emerges. Too fast for life itself, you often give out invitations at the last moment notice. Not that he minds as he has grown to appoint free minutes and hours for your spontaneity’s usage. 

Slothful and intentional in his words, Jade murmurs for only you to hear, “I would be delighted to come.”

You might as well have bioluminescence with how alight you turn at his mere words. “Sounds razer!” 

Then, like a shooting star, you are gone. 

There is no need for elaboration from you: him, Scarabia, tonight. Those words make a clear outline for what Jade should be expecting. If it is not a concert in Scarbia, this will be a rare glimpse of Jade’s mental prowess growing old with age. 

Imagine that, he just turned twenty last month. No, he is sound of mind. He knows his starts and his ends.

There is a portion of the upcoming Animal Languages exam which he was planning on studying tonight. However, the review can surely wait for another time. It is not often you remember to invite him to one of your concerts. Always racing around, it is a frequent thing for some of your thoughts to slip out your head like cubes of bar soap. An invitation from you is something to cherish. 

Jade is intentional when he chooses an outfit that will show off the full expanse of his arm. Besides the top part of his shoulder that is covered by a tee sleeve, the majority of mushrooms are shown. On pale canvas, spiraling columns of psilocybin paint an eldritch picture, slowly growing grotesque. More frayed like torn curtains and oozing like wounds. 

If you had only waited a little longer, you would have seen that. 

However, one should not fool themselves into thinking a perpetual motion ever stops for one silly person. Jade has always been deliberate when letting Floyd satisfy his impulses. You and his brother match in dispositions. Walking through the maw of a venomous snake with his twin, the mirror shimmering like crystals, Jade knows he only feels so assured of their bond because they are blood. Matching with fingerprints and mirroring irises.

You and him are fragile in a terrarium he is just starting to construct. The environment is so volatile. Jade chews on the words three month honeymoon and the human culture implications of it, as Floyd races away from him, calling out Sea Otter and Sea Snake. 

Late in the night, Scarabia starts to cool down. The pocket dimension’s sun sets and the pocket dimension’s moon rises. That does not mean the light in Scarabia is snuffed out though. Instead, acrid scent coats the air like a thick, overused perfume. Sulfur waves puff up from the campfires placed around like chess pieces and trickle out from the lanterns that hang overhead like bats. 

His nose is not used to the smell of fire. Magical fire is clean without expelling residue. Fires like the one in Scarabia – correct in nature’s chemical code and unheard of in the Coral Sea – irk his senses. 

Still, Jade endures as always. 

Walking deliberately, he takes in the sights of campfire light flickering unsteadily. As expected, there is quite a crowd here tonight. Most are Scarabia students, resting on draped carpets or snacking by the hors-d'œuvre, but there are a good handful of Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, and Pomefiore students. Most are gathered near the empty stage, waiting. 

Some items feel out of place without their owners. Like how uncanny school hallways and mall outlets can be devoid of people walking in them. The desolate microphone on stage seems almost sad without its owner howling and singing into it. 

“Jade! Jade!” But, its loneliness will soon be cured. As will his own. “Jade!”

Jade allows himself to be barreled at. He has been hit harder, but he finds he revels in the weight of your abuse the most. He wishes you would squeeze tight enough to crack a rib (as if it were a mere toothpick) as you hug him and bounce giddy on the balls of your boots. 

As is routine, his nose finds the crook of your neck and inhales deeply as you ramble. “Jade! You’re not going to believe this! I get to have the first hour of the set to myself instead of having to wait the second hour! I’m so excited! Hehe!” 

You pull back slightly to show him all your teeth, grinning and glowing. With your eyes closed like that, Jade memorizes the shade of eyeshadow you have on your lids. The base color is gold and the top layer mimics a tiger skin pattern. Those pretty witchcraft eyes pop open when he asks, “What will you be playing?”

“Ah, I was thinking some Suicide Machines, some Offspring … Oh! I really wanted to do Inside Out by Eve 6 but I don’t know if our new guitarist has the chords down yet.”

“New guitarist?”

“Yeah, our last one said he needed to focus on his studies more. Truth be told, I think he left because he hated how Kalim’s playing dominated over the guitars.”

“Well, Kalim certainly has a unique way of playing.”

“Yeah, but isn’t it more fun when you try out new things!”

“I suppose so. Playing without any variety is a tedious endeavor.”

“Exactly! Better to switch things up!”

After the hypocritical sentence falls out of your mouth, Jade shifts his hands from your shoulders to the swell of your hips. Now, that’s not entirely true, is it, pearl? 

He will not say those words; he does not want to cause you unnecessary pain. However, he lets his hands speak for him as he comfortingly rubs the side of your left hip.

It was a grievous experience to you when Cater and Lilia graduated. You stood before them, bottom lip ceasing to stop quivering no matter how hard you bit it. There were no tear drops hanging on your centipede-leg eyelashes, but your body seemed to be stuck in mid-sob all the same. You did not deal well with band members coming and going. Yet, you slapped on a facade all the same. Perhaps you just choose to rush away from grief in the same manner you choose to rush away from everything. 

“I’m sure he is a fabulous addition. Do I know him?”

“Yeah, you do! He’s actually –!”

“(Name)! Ah, I’m glad I found ya. We’re starting in ten, ya dummy.” 

Jade is not surprised. The face he wears is one of clear anticipation for this very moment, cool eyes and slight smile lifting as his attention moves to your new guitarist. Truthfully, Jade had been prophesying this exact moment.

He would be a fool to not be at least three steps ahead of everyone in this lawless world. So, sliding a bare hand down the length of your arm to interlock fingers, he replies for you, “Sounds like plenty of time. I won’t keep her for much longer than five.” And then the rest of hers and mine life. 

The Scarabia student with the macaw feather earring tears his gaze away from you (good) to look at Jade. His face briefly pinches before flattening out, gruff in his mannerisms yet light in tone, “as long as ya promise to deliver her to me before the show starts.”

“I can assure her punctuality.”

Diverting from eye contact, the Scarabia student looks towards you for your confirmation.  “I’ll only be a few minutes, Iago! I’ll be on stage at five!”

Iago nods. When he leaves, Jade notices how many rings are on his fingers. Would that not obstruct him from playing his guitar? “You’re the boss. See ya, (Name).” 

“I’m not the boss!” Iago smiles mischievously; you start to laugh. “C’mon! You know I hate that!”

“Aye aye, captain.” 

You are giggling up a storm as Iago leaves. Big and toothy, like all the ones Jade adores to see. Soft, you glance up at Jade and there is something carefree in your witchcraft eyes, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. “He reminds me of,” then you say your old guitarist’s name. The one from your original world. 

Sea-urchin quills pierce his lungs like balloons. Jade’s hand tightens around yours as he is going to lose you again. Expression neutral, he hums, “is that so?”

“Their mannerisms are kind of similar! Their playing style isn’t a perfect copy but it is pretty damn close! It’s like … a warped fingerprint of each other … ya know!”

He supposes he does not. Jade never met your old guitarist, probably won’t ever either. Praises, however, were sung loud and often enough to feel he had sat down in a past life and drank tea with your old guitarist. As a retired musician himself, he knows a bit about the DNA residue of other musicians – most intimately he knows Floyd’s and Azul’s musician thumbprint – that he can safely nod. “Similar but not quite identical.”

“Similar but not identical! Yeah!”

How enthusiastic. Cute. Jade opens his mouth to dissect (and maybe exploit the weaknesses) in your old guitart’s playing style with Iago’s when you are suddenly squeezing his hand tightly. “Jade! Wow! This is!” Your eyes are glued to his arm, mesmerized. How enthusiastic. 

It has morphed since the last you saw it. Around his biceps, psilocybin mushrooms come apart like time-lapsed fruits, bruised and decomposing in sunken holes. Like a book-cover or sticker coated in felt, you touch the unique texture of real life bulbophyllum phalaenopsis lying on Jade’s porcelain skin. As you pet the orchid family plant, Jade smiles. 

“Bulbophyllums are one of the worst smelling plants in Twisted Wonderland,” like a child hearing a story, your eyes draw up to observe Jade, “they grow deep in the heart of the Sunset Savanna. Warthogs are the only animal that can digest them and their smell is said to drive men to want to cut off their noses.”

“I would ask how the smell would work against the undead, but I would rather keep my nose intact.”

“As would I.” He taps you on the very appendage. “An adorable feature deserves to stay on an adorable face.”

“Is there a reason they smell so bad? Like are the pheromones supposed to protect something?”

“It is to deter most animals looking for a snack. Once past the smell, there is –”

“(Name), Kalim can’t find his drumsticks!” And though your attention was fiercely focused on him, it evaporates like a drop in the summer sun. Your neck almost cracks with the speed you use to turn back towards where your band members are gathered. Iago waves at you urgently.

Lip wobbling, you murmur guilty, “Jade…”

“Go. I’ll be off to the left side of the stage. Perhaps, if it is not too much strain, blow me a kiss?”

You turn with gratitude in your expression. “Thank you,” you breath relieved. Before you race off, you gift him with something even sweeter than a blown kiss from the stage. You press your lipstick painted embrace on his cheek, leaving a mark that is dark as fresh blood. “I love you. Thank you.”

Logical and intelligent, Jade is correct about one thing irrevocably. The microphone stops looking uncanny as you take it in your grasp. 

It is as much a part of you as his sturgeon scale earring is a part of him. An undeniable accessory to your body that you fit into the mold of yourself like a puzzle coming together. Microphone held in your grip, you speak minutes later (rarely without shouting), “This is a song that came out last year in my world before I came to Night Raven. It was September 1998. And, at the start of my senior year in high school, it was all anyone heard on the radio. I practiced it every day after school until I memorized the chords. I decided when I graduated in 1999 that I was going to be a woman like that – a rockstar.”

Kalim, energetic, slams a beat on his drums, getting the crowd hyped. A grin materializes on your face. Fond, you shuffle a few steps back on the stage, looking towards your drummer, before turning to face your beloved crowd. 

You howl into the microphone — everyone … please make some noise!! — as the band starts to play. 

Jade thinks to himself, there are certain places people belong. 

The first time you two officially met, it was after Azul’s overblot.

Too distracted about the success of having two hundred and twenty-five magicless students under his thumb, Azul had not anticipated the slothful Leona Kingscholar deciding then and there would be a perfect time to destroy the contract between the two housewardens. Given Kingscholar’s haughty disposition, it was only natural that he would take to unraveling each and every contract Azul ever made. From there, the spool of Azul’s self control unraveled until he was naked, lying on the floor, come undone like a sweater.

In the aftermath, sprawling among his unthreaded mind and magic, Mostro Lounge had suffered significant damages. 

Smashed plates, broken tabletops, shattered ornaments, and an indoor aquarium leaking out corpses of fishes and intestines of underwater plant-life. Jade himself happened to lose a one-of-a-kind tea kettle that was a family heirloom. However, his grief was a mouse compared to the elephant in the room: the irrefutable fact that Azul had truly lost so much in mere hours.

Not that Jade held any doubts that Azul would bounce back better than ever. There has always been an undercurrent of confidence in both Floyd and Jade that is Azul trips, he comes back sprinting.

A rich image, though, if you imagine a slow, eight-legged Azul ever being able to achieve a sprint; simply, it is all metaphorical.

Hilarity aside, yours and Jade’s colliding paths happened after Azul’s overblot. It is an easy start to label. Puppetered by fate or perhaps coincidence, Jade had found himself unable to fall asleep that night. A teacup, drank down to the granular leaves at the bottom, sat on both the nightstand of Octavinelle’s housewarden’s bedroom and his own brother’s bedroom. Not wishing to usher himself into sedative-induced sleep just yet, Jade slipped into the wreckage of Azul’s restaurant and found you dancing upon it. 

Now, you were not vindictively celebrating a release from contract. Nor were you particularly happy about the overblot in general. At this point in time, you have not even met Azul before, much less held a reason to revel in his misfortune, but still you danced.  

It is a violent twitching and lurching motion like you are trying to dispel a ghoul out of your body. Juxtaposingly, it is a gentle swaying and gyrating like you are performing on the thawing, icy floes of northern waters. It is a combination of motion Jade has never seen before. Some he will later learn have names and rules about how they are done; others are merely the eldritch and true hypnotism of music puppeting your body.

I think I know them; Jade squints. Perched on the stone walls in the courtyards. Caught in the middle of cleaning an empty classroom. Finally, the memory flutters in: you, pitching a fit at the Headmaster, saying you did not want to be attending college, much less a private college.

You are the janitor. He knows you. Not intimately (and he does not even know your name) but he does recognize who you are. Dull and colorless in his world, there is no reason for you to be here when Jade came to the lounge to fight his own insomnia through cleaning up the mess. 

And, you aren’t even cleaning up anything. You might as well be a thousand stars away, a hundred planets, and ten galaxies away from this place right now. 

In hand, you have your trickling mop which you strum invisible frets on. As if determined to wring music out of a cleaning supply, you violently took to dipping it as if caught together in a macabre tango, jerking it like horse reins, and pounding it against your sternum when a particular hard chord is struck. Despite the violence, it would take a blind man to not immediately recognize you know what you are doing with your fingers.

As you strum and pluck at air, the motion in your phalanges reminds Jade of the incessant twitching of shrimp legs as they glide down underwater vegetation. Fluid as if you were a machine constructed for the purpose of playing the guitar until fuel runs out, your programmed raison d'etre. 

Jumping like a restless rabbit, your boots slam upon the lounge floor. Pound. Airborne. Pound. Airborne. It is a repeat that only ends when you plant them both down. Your hip ticks back and forth as if you are balancing on a surfboard. Then, in a mannerism he has seen of many beastmans, you throw your head back and howl.

It is not at all like the cacophony of those beasts. From your pursed lips, you eject a bewitching melody that threads itself through Jade’s ears like a dangerous conjuration. It causes the teapot in Jade’s hands to tremble slightly.

“Awooooouuuuh! Got you where I want you!!” 

What peculiar lyrics. He has never heard anything like that before. Although, with the pair of ancient headphones over your ears, you might as well be as unreachable as the moon. Jade still has to evacuate you from the lounge. Talented singer or not. Holding onto his kettle of sympathy, he makes his way over to you. 

The only reason that there is a .00001 probability rate of Jade spilling drinks in the lounge instead of being a plain 0 is because … well, frankly, it is sentimentally embarrassing. Yet, when you turn around, lyrics like cigarette smoke on your lips, and face him, you perform a spell. Now, Jade knows you are magicless. 

This knowledge is contradicted by the way your eyes instantly cut each of his Achilles tendon and drain all tangibility of his legs from underneath him.

Or perhaps it is because of the spot you left wet from the mop.

“Dude! … Sir! … Um, shit! Whoever you are, ugh! Idiot!” Headphones yanked around your neck, you race forward and leave your mop-guitar behind.

Now, Jade has not had legs for as long as his peers. He got them at seventeen, practiced with them over the summer at Land Boot Camp, and he is now nineteen in his second year of college. So for approximately two years, he has been anchored by hamstrings, calves, ankles, etcetera. He is familiar with them enough to know when he cannot recover from a fall.

It is quite a shock to the walking eel-mer when he does not in fact hit ground – despite the clear, piercing sound of another family heirloom being broken to bits, at least he can fix this one, all the chipped pieces congealed in one place – and it is not an act of magic this time.

“You okay there?”

Starstruck, Jade blinks at your face hovering over his. Briefly, he feels your knobby knee on the small of his back. His body is bent uncomfortably like an abused violin bow; yet he feels no dull sense of pain. The touch of your embrace is irreplicable, as pleasant as home. Into your swirling eyes, Jade stares and recalls a childhood memory from the days that legs seemed an impossible addition to his body.

The bottom of the northern Coral Sea is dark and cold, yet it is home. Additionally, it is not entirely the bottom of the sea where he grew up. There are still depths unexplored before in that great expanse of stretching black sand. 

Jade is seven and a quarter (he likes to count his age meticulously) when he comes across one of those unventured abyssal areas that he has never seen before. He knows he has gone further than ever before because he has never seen such an eccentric trench before. When he is eighteen, he will find that manholes closely resemble the sight. 

It is one giant manhole. It is like some behemoth man carved a circle into the seabed. Where the black sand underneath him is seeable, this sudden descend is full of a nebulous black without any sort of gray or silver shadows. A ring of ineffable ebony. 

It is wide enough that if he stretches his tail across he might be two feet off from measuring out the mere radius. The diameter is twice (and then some) as long as his tail. Approximately, Jade calculates diligently in his head, the trench is 5.282 meters long across. And since it is a perfect circle (this has Jade entranced as trenches do not form like this in the environment) it is a full 5.3 meters in each direction he could swim across it.  

Not that he would dare. No. He is too terrified to even calculate the time it would take to swim that distance.

Yet still: “Goin’ to swim across?” His mother eggs him on.

Young Jade looks behind with wide eyes. A swarm of impish intent is swimming in those violet blue hues. He loves his mother dearly but her errant ways are sometimes too much for him. Now so more than ever. As he feels his sinking stomach drift down and down, he replies dutifully and clearly to her troublesome inquiry, “No, Mama.”

Then, because he is still a child, his eyes mistakenly slide back to the circular trench. His stomach lurches. Jade relocates behind his mother. He tries not to let his chagrin show as she laughs at him, high pitched and musical like a witch. 

She eventually turns her head around, talons delicately placed on her chin which is parallel with her shoulder. Like jellyfish tentacles, her deep black hair sweeps across her nose and cheek much like scars. Jade shivers at the water breeze, not cowering but using his parent as a shield.

“Afraid, baby?”

“No, Mother.”

“Do not lie.”

“... I’m not afraid.”

It is a half-truth from a squeamish boy. But it is spoken with the conviction of a man. So, his mother only turns her head a bit more to glance down at Jade who stays firm behind her back. Her violet blue eyes narrow like they are knives meant to dissect his larynx. 

She likes ugly truths and loathes comfortable lies.

A soft smile graces her face. And, Jade, who was keeping his eyes intently focused on his mother’s slithering teal tail, steals a quick glance up at it. His tense muscles unwind. Then, as his mother does whenever one of her two boys hide behind her, she grabs Jade by the black strand and tugs him hard in front of her body.

She digs her talon in his shoulders, almost draws blood (would if he were anyone else), and pushes his body to overlook the trench. 

His mother does not relent, even as Jade binds his tail around her forearm almost hard even to break the bone (would if she were anyone else). Without a single whimper, he squirms in her harsh hold. His dual-colored eyes are wide in fright. The abyss looks bottomless. If his mother loosens her talons, he will surely fall in and never be heard from again.

Delicate and dangerous like a nightmare, his mother puts her head onto Jade's and whispers, “fear, insecurity, and anxiety are like curses. You’ll learn about curses soon in school. The more power you give them, the worse it gets for you, Jade.

“So,” here her grip relents finally and Jade starts to unwind his tail from her forearms, “banish it.” The cavern swallows like flowing sheets undulating over his head.  

That exact feeling is mimicked by the stare in your witchcraft eyes. 

And those eyes fall all over town.

[dee-morris]

Some Random Thoughts on the Nature of Free Will

Thinking about that conversation from the book that got put into The Resurrectionists. Aziraphale is explaining how he and Crowley are good and wicked, respectively, but they have no choice while Elspeth does. Bc humans can't be truly good unless they have the choice to be wicked.

(This is where I usually end up arguing with someone on Twitter lol bc they think Aziraphale is being Mean to Crowley by calling him wicked. It's just a brand name darling, not a judgment call. He literally said in the same breath that he's not TRULY wicked bc he wasn't given a choice.)

So I'm sitting here thinking about free will and the choices the celestials are given, which are not many. And I wonder if one of the reasons they were drawn to the Arrangement was to give them each the choices that humans were born with. One can't be truly good without the opportunity to do wrong, so perhaps being able to work both sides of the equation helped them develop into truly moral beings and not just extensions of their offices. We see in Uz how they're able to work together and bounce off each other to save Job's family, even though the Arrangement didn't properly exist yet.

I've also seen lots of takes and metas that indicate that people view Heaven and Hell as a class system: Heaven is the upper-class privileged majority, while Hell is oppressed, kicked out, downtrodden. I think people forget that the primary difference between the two is aesthetic. Hell has all the same powers as Heaven, and they both intend to burn humanity to the ground in order to prove their gang is best.

No, if we're going to talk about who's got privilege, it's definitely humanity over heaven or hell. We have free will and imagination, which are more miraculous than anything. Sure they've got all these powers and can work miracles and so on, but where's that gotten them? We can actually change things. All they can do is try and influence us to change things, and their success rate isn't high. Two of the most powerful beings in the universe couldn't convince an eleven year old boy to blow things up. That's. Pathetic, actually.

Which brings me back around to the ineffables. Because they actually DO have free will, but I don't think they're used to realizing that they do, which might be why they act a little bone headed sometimes. The show implies and the book comes right out and says that they picked it up from being around humans. And like I said earlier, I think the Arrangement played a big part. They were actually able to choose to do good or evil, a luxury that normally only humans can enjoy.

And the best part of this, for me anyway, is knowing that everything that they are to each other is a conscious choice. Aziraphale didn't want to be a fighter, so he gave his sword away and made the conscious choice to be soft and silly and get into scrapes. And Crowley chooses to come to his rescue because he likes it, not because he is obligated. It's a way for him to choose to do good without getting in trouble. They are each other's outlet to explore humanity in a way that would be impossible if they were on their own.

Aziraphale speaks French badly and flutters his eyelashes and plans elaborate Balls because he loves doing human things and he wants to do them with Crowley. Crowley drives a sleek classic sex machine with bullet hole stickers on the windows and goes on capers and performs daring moves because he loves doing things the human way and he wants to do them with Aziraphale. The way they interact and work together because they WANT to, and not because it's their Great Bloody Destiny or whatever, is so fucking beautiful to me.