#its basically my wedding guest dress

[docholligay]

Jetty and I adding flavor to a local wedding

[the-writer-arrived]

Wedding Bells Underwater

Synopsis: after things have finally settled down in fontaine, wriothesley can finally fulfill the promise he made to avice and faissolle. watching their dream come true makes the duke think about his own future, one with you, he hopes.

Character: wriothesley.

Warnings: gn!reader; established relationship; spoilers for wriothesley's story quest.

A/N: i got so happy that they were included as a nice easter egg on wrio's birthday art 🥺

"...I'm sorry, you want me to do WHAT?"

"Help me organize Avice and Faissolle's wedding."

You stare dumbly at Wriothesley, the faint music coming from the gramophone the only sound in his office while you try to gather your thoughts. Has the workload finally taking its toll on him? Surely he knows that you have zero experience in organizing a wedding???

"It's nothing too complex like you're thinking. I just want you to act as a 'bridge' between the couple and me, since I have other matters regarding the Fortress and can't focus solely on them."

You make a 'ohhhh' expression, now understanding what is expected of you.

"Why didn't you say so from the very beggining?"

"Because I wanted to see what kind of face you'd make. And I must say, you never disappoint sweetheart."

Like the mature adult that you are, you decide to not say the snarky remark you thought and simply leave his office to look for the said couple.

(It's a lie, you stick out your tongue childishly and rushed out of the room before your lover considers cuffing you for disrespecting authority. Not that you would mind it that much).

----------

For someone who knew basically nothing about planning a wedding, you got into it pretty quickly... Maybe a bit too into it, if you were being honest.

The decorations, the location, the order of the events, the dress! Blame it on your perfectionist side, but really, after everything Avice and Faissolle went through in the Beret Society incident, they deserved a perfect wedding.

Even if it wasn't going to be a large scale event, due to all the limitations that comes with choosing the Fortress of Meropide as the venue and the couple's own wish for keeping it simple, there still was a lot of work to do. Knowing that, Wriothesley announced that those who help with the preparations would be awarded with double Credit Cupons. Suffice to say that you got all the workforce needed pretty quickly for the preparations to go smoothly.

After many meetings, headaches and shipment delays, you can now admire the results of yours, Wriothesley's and all the volunteers' hard work.

"Didn't know you had a secret talent for this. Ever considered changing careers?" The man beside you asks quietly while the bride and groom are giving their speech.

"Archons forbid! Do you have any idea how stressful that was? I have a newfound respect for professional wedding planners." You whisper back, remembering the way you basically passed out in bed the day before, all the stress and sleepless nights knocking you out.

Before he could say anything else, the spotlight shines above him and all the guests turn to look at your table.

"Your Grace, words are not enough to properly thank you for everything you've done for us. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be standing here and be able to call Avice my wife." Faissolle's words falter, him and his bride trying hard to control the tears. Wriothesley smiles at them, raising his glass in appreciation for their words.

"Of course, we can't forget the one responsable for turning our ideas into reality." The spotlight is now shining on you as well and you feel your face warming at the sudden attention. "Thank you so much for creating such an incredible wedding for us, we'll never forget this day."

Everyone raises their glasses in a toast for the newlyweds, cheers running through the crowd of guests when the couple finishes their speech.

----------

"...A penny for your thoughts, Your Grace? Or does it require Credit Cupons as well?"

You nudge your lover's arm to get his attention, seeing his faraway look.

"Oh yes, at least 500 Credit Cupons for such information." He chuckles when you roll your eyes. A beat of silence falls and you wait patiently for him to continue, if he wishes to do so. "I was just thinking that, in all the years I've been in the Fortress, I've never imagined I'd one day have it decorated for a wedding, of all things."

Wriothesley's eyes run along the tables of guests, the other former members of the Beret Society and others who became friends with Faissolle and Avice, all smiling happily and having a good time. A peculiar sight to see when you remember this merry ceremony is taking place inside a prison.

His attention returns to you at the feeling of your hand slipping into his, fingers entwining themselves with his easily like two puzzle pieces.

"That means all of your hard work is bearing fruit. The Fortress of Meropide can also be a place of good memories and new beginnings. The proof of that is right in front of you."

The Duke knows you must have meant the event, but, to him, his good memories and new beginning are you, always have and hopefully always will be.

Throughout the process of organizing the wedding, Wriothesley had wondered what kind of ceremony you would wish for. A big and impressive one? Or maybe a more low-key one, with just your close friends and family? What kind of attire would you like to wear? From Chioriya Boutique, of course, nothing but the best for his darling in their special day.

"Everyone! I'm going to throw the bouquet now!" The bride announces, causing a buzz among the excited guests.

"So? Should we go too?" Your boyfriend asks with a smirk and a playful glint in his eyes.

"Why not? Since we're here, we might as well have the full experience!"

There's already a crowd gathered in front of Avice when you and Wriothesley decide to join them. You both don't really mind though, choosing to stay at the back and observe the enthusiasm of others.

One could think it's funny how excited someone could be at the chance of getting the bride's bouquet, a chance of getting married in the future. Or maybe, it's not about marriage at all, but actually for the idea of having a better future after their sentence time is fulfilled.

Or maybe it's all just a projection of the Duke's own feelings about this.

...Who knew a celebration like this would make him think about things he's never considered before?

He shakes his head to clear his mind. You both weren't there to try and catch the bouquet for real, so there's no need to think too deeply about it.

Unbeknownst to him, fate had other plans.

It all happens too fast. At one moment, you watch Avice throw the flowers high into the air; at the next, you feel someone bump into you from behind, causing you to stumble forward. Thanks to Wriothesley's quick reflexes, he manages to prevent your fall by wrapping a strong arm around your waist. And then, you find yourself staring at the bouquet that had landed right into your arms.

What in the world?!

"Ohhhh they caught it!"

"Man, I wanted that bouquet..."

"Does that mean we're going to hear news about the Duke's wedding soon?!"

"It's about time for His Grace to tie the knot!"

The comments, cheers and the sheer craziness of this unexpected twist makes you laugh, both in embarrasment and disbelief.

In amidst of all the excitement around you both, Wriothesley can't help but think that that must have been Celestia's sign for him to stop wasting time and go after the bright future that awaits him.

Now, what would be the best ring to buy for his future spouse?

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

pink wriothesley banner (fluff) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

HII!! Its my first time requesting here!! But i have thought about this idea just a minute ago while daydreaming

So, mc was back in the human world and basically, lucifer or satan was forced to get married to maddi. And when mc came back it was the wedding day, and mc was so surprised, scared, angry qbout the news she heard and she feels betrayed so she immediately went to confront him about it and yeah. Idk how will this go but you can decide the ending!!! Thank you so much and have a good day/night/afternoon when u are reading this

Lucifer would not put such a responsibility on any of his brother's shoulders. While conversations of the Wedding Day come about, and your visage dances around his mind, his decision remains the same. "It's gonna break their heart, you know?" Asmodeus, might not be the person responsible for your upcoming heartbreak, but the thought of your sorrows gut him all the same. "Is there really no way out of this?" There's not. Had there been he would have made it so. But it looks like everyone's hands are tied in the situation.

"What would you have me do?"

"Do what you always do and figure it out!" There was nothing left to figure. The ceremony is in a week. Supposedly, The Great Witch has invited all of the guest, picked the venue, and her dress. He'd already been measured for his suit. You already knew, not that he told any of the others. He had gone to the Human World himself to inform you, it was the right thing to do.

You'd been furious. Tears streamed down your face, as you continued to ask how he could do this? His response of that he had to, did not console you, it instead made you all the more irate, sentencing to leave and wishing him a happy life. His only regret, was that in that moment, he could do nothing to soothe you. That after all the times you'd brought him comfort and joy; he brought you misery without any means of alleviating the pain.

The night before, Lucifer dreams of you. Dreams of your smile, of your humour, of the precious memories that he'll keep with him for centuries down the road. Only to awaken with a start upon watching it crumble. The image of you crying and asking how he could do this to you, haunt him right up to the altar as he stands awaiting for it all to end.

"Should anyone wish to object, speak now or forever hold your peace." It's like something out of those movies you'd used to sit and watch with Asmo, the doors slam open, followed by your angry shouting.

"I object! I seriously object!" Lucifer takes a good minute to get over the shock of seeing you.

"How did you get here?" When a certain white-haired demon, who had been missing for a suspicious amount of time, stumbles in behind you, Lucifer can't even prevent his name from falling out of his mouth. "Mammooooon!" Mammon, just hides himself behind you.

"It doesn't matter. You can't stop this, it's for the betterment of the Devildom after all." Maddi, isn't bothered by your interruption, merely shrugging at your presence.

"What if he's already my husband?" The whole room turns to you, Lucifer quirks a brow, surely you don't think your lie is going to convince an entire room of nobles? Especially while, Diavolo sits in the front row, who would have known straight away if this was the case.

"Excuse me?" Maddi now seems to be very irked.

"You heard me, we're already married!" He's got no clue where your confidence is coming from, or how you even concocted this whole idea, but he wants to laugh. "You'd really break the first ever human-demon marriage for something that's been done time and time again?"

"And why was no one of aware of this?" Lucifer thinks your lie has come to an end, especially from how shrink ever so slightly at her questioning.

"You'll have to forgive me Maddi, but I requested the pair to keep it a secret." Only for Diavolo to chime in. "In fact everyone will have to forgive me, because I can't allow for this ceremony to continue, especially given the importance for the Devildom's future that these two remain together." The room break out into murmuring, and Maddi is outraged.

"Lord Diavolo, what about-"

"Yes that agreement, Barbatos found something most interesting about the information you presented me that I believe requires a private discussion." There's not much time for Maddi to react, while Barbatos comes up beside her dragging her through a portal.

The events that follow are almost a blur, until it's just Lucifer, Mammon, Diavolo and yourself in the room. Diavolo lets out a loud laugh, turning to you with a signature grin. "I must say, you're always full of surprises! I had a feeling you were going to appear, but I didn't think you'd be bold enough to tell an outright lie in a room full of Demon Nobles."

"What can I say it's part of my charm." You match his grin with one of your own, something that amuses the prince even further.

"Indeed." Lucifer chimes in almost immediately, and the two of you exchange a wordless glance. There's several words that linger on both of your tongues, eagerly awaiting to be said. But as you both stare at each other neither of you are entirely sure where to even begin.

"...so you guys aren't actually married, right?" Mammon does not help. Neither does Diavolo as his laughter starts up again.

[ravenflorals]

forever , and ever

rating: explicit

word count : 2671 words

Pairing: hermione granger / draco malfoy , mentioned Pansy/Neville, Theo / Ron, Ginny / Harry, and Blaise / Luna

authors note: The Wheel has assigned the following; Secret Marriage, based on a song, body worship, Malfoy Manor, and pregnancy, for the "based on a song" I chose the song "Lover" by Miss Swift. I typically don’t write secret marriage fics, because I haven’t been able to work out the basics. Yet, I think I managed to work this out enough to be enjoyable to read.

warnings: this fic is semi smutty. it isn't as bad as what I usually write but it does have those themes. Don't read if you're underage. Another warning over mentioned body shaming. Its not severe, but its there

In the corner of the library sits a photo on a shelf. Taken on a muggle camera loaned to them by Arthur Weasley. In the frame, a bride dressed in a simple white lace sundress, looking at the love of her life who wore a white button-up and green tie with his standard black slacks. It was a domestic photo, but one that changed whenever guests came by. One that hid its true form as Hermione would do whenever friends of his mother’s would stop by.

The wedding bands they wore on their hands were simple, little black diamonds that engraved hers. A DM is carved into the underside. On his the same black diamonds in a masculine sense. HM engraved into his. They were simple enough to illusion, making them look like any standard ring. But she still wore hers around her neck while at work. Carrying it as close to her chest as possible.

Whenever she got that familiar guilty feeling in her chest. She’d be reminded we agreed together. They agreed they needed time to themselves. To go through the honeymoon stage before they came clean. It should have been easy enough to come clean when it was time. A simple advertisement in the paper says just married. A postcard sent to all their former friends and let them spread the word. Yet none of it seemed right.

Their marriage had been a secret since it happened two years prior. They’d decided on the secrecy aspect, other than letting in a few friends. Narcissa, Pansy, and Neville had been their witnesses, and Ron and Theo had helped make sure nothing got to the press by acting even more brash in their behavior than usual. Luna and Theo had announced their courtship. Harry and Ginny decided to conveniently announce their pregnancy on the day it happened. All eyes were anywhere but on them. They’d had a quiet ceremony, binding their magic together that night. Hermione pressed against deep green satin sheets as he trapped her frame under his much larger one. Elbows planted on both sides of her.

“You’re my wife.” He had said. Between each word pressing a kiss to her lips.

Breathless, she nodded. “I’m your wife. I'm yours. Just as you are mine.” She’d say, letting her hands rest against the side of his face. They’d had sex plenty of times prior, in every position they could find. But this time, this was making love. True love that now would bind their magic together.

After a short honeymoon by the lakes in Ireland, they’d come back to the manor. Ready to take on the world. The last two years had been pleasant. Of course, they’d shared their fair share of arguments. But just as they’d promised in their vows, they didn’t go to bed angry. They talked, they made up, and they made each other feel good. His hands would trace her frame as her lips would place delicate kisses across his scars. Each one had a story behind them, and she didn’t like that it had happened to him. But she loved the man it had made him. With dark stormy eyes that roared whenever she called him her beautiful boy. There were the nights she’d trace her fingers around his cock, playing with the head and the precum that leaked. Patiently waiting for Hermione’s attention to be drawn to it.

Every so often new rumors came up on who “the Golden Girl” was dating. Her romantic life, well the lack of it had made the papers. Skeeter called her a spinster and said she didn’t think anyone was coming home with her. It would be a fair judgment if Hermione knew for a fact she not only had someone in her bed. But someone who gave her a million reasons to stay in that bed when the morning came. Whenever her nose would scrunch in distaste at the articles while she sat in the manor’s library reading. He would come in from work, approaching her. Stalking towards her like a lion would to its prey.

Except, she wasn’t his prey. She was more like a rabbit waiting for the day the snake got tired of waiting for another source of food. Swallowing her whole. She was the lamb waiting for its executioner to come out of the barn and find her stalled. But she would trust him through it all. Because she trusted him fully. “All you need to do is ask. And I’ll fucking kill her.” Draco says, taking the newspaper out of her hands and sitting down next to her. He pulls her legs to crossover into his lap. “What is the horrible wench saying about you this time?” he asks, rubbing circles into her feet.

Shrugging, she looked over to him. Her eyes fixated on him “It doesn’t matter what she said about me. I’m used to being the butt of their jokes.” she sadly admits, this had been something she knew would happen when she stepped into her place in the world. Working at the ministry to make sure muggleborn students got the right opportunities. Giving them the resources she had lacked. Proper education on the wizarding world and what the world expected from them. The article wasn’t on her sex life today, in fact, this one had said no one had wanted her because of her apparent weight gain.

“Just because you’re used to it. That doesn’t mean it’s okay.” His tone sounds disappointed. Not in her, never in her. But in the mere fact, she was silently letting this happen. He had seen how much it took from her to be more than what had been presented, that she was no longer the eighteen-year-old war heroine. Now a loving wife, and the hardest worker the ministry had ever seen. She was more than any of those cynical fools with their sharp words could see.

He had his fair share of bad media press. Not like hers where she was being painted one way, but painting him another. A coward still living through his fears. Still followed his father’s reputation even if it hadn’t been who he wanted to be since he had been sixteen. The spinster and the coward, that’s what they’d been painted as. It was a parallel to the queen and her loyal bishop. Always following a few steps behind her. Their image on the outside was as simple as this, in public she was the minister of education, and he was her bodyguard. Making sure she got to events, okay, ensuring she got home safely. At Galas instead of making sure she didn’t go home with someone bad. He made sure she was satisfied coming home with him. In a few instances pulling her into a coat room, tugging the dress she wore to the side, and taking her there. Ensuring no one would catch them in these situations. His hands cupped her ass as he rutted into her.

After he took her home, pulling the dress completely off her frame before laying back against the bed. “Let me see you.” he’d murmur, looking up at her like a man drunk on love as he propped himself up onto his elbow. While she loved it when he took control, she knew he came completely undone when she took the lead. Unbuttoning his shirt, kissing his neck as he slid his pants and boxers off. “Ride me.” he’d say, eyes lust-filled and burning into her. Hermione knew the sounds he made like she knew a favorite song. Knew how to turn things to make him even more smitten for her.

They’d both orgasmed harder than they ever had that night. Hermione’s legs hurt like hell that night, she was also thankful for the silencing spells he’d placed around their bed. Not wanting his mother to hear what they’d been up to. They’d had their fair share as a married couple in regards to the matriarch. But that was a story for another time.

If someone thought she was crazy for him, they should have seen how he was for her. While he was loyal, he also had a wicked possessive streak. Always leaving her with marks she had to cover the next morning. And she’d do equal damage. Scratching down his back and leaving indents with her nails. They were crazy over one another. Something that existed while they were simply dating, continued during their engagement and even now as they were married.

“You know I know how we could shut Skeeter up,” Hermione said, leaning back against the green sofa. Looking up at her husband as his hands moved up her ankles, continuing their pattern of massaging her legs.

He hums, interested in what she has to say. “Do share. I’m all for her learning a lesson on silence.” If it were up to him, she would no longer have a tongue. If it were up to her, the woman would be locked in a snow globe. With one of them occasionally shaking her.

“We could come clean about our marriage,” she tells him. Eyes twinkling with mischief. “Deal with the backlash together just as we said we would when we married.”

Eyes moving up, he settles his glance on her. “Well we said we would sooner or later,” he doesn’t seem as panicked as she had been expecting from him. “You wanted to wait till we had to think about bringing a kid into the pic…Hermione.” he stopped. Eyeing her carefully, his administration to her legs had stopped. “Is there something you haven’t told me?” he asked. Turning his body so he’s facing her entirely.

Reaching over, to entwine his fingers with hers. She moves his hand to her abdomen. Letting it rest there. He wouldn’t be able to feel anything yet, but she wanted him to know she was telling the truth. “We made life. I’m pregnant,” she says to him. Waiting for his reaction. They’d discussed having a kid since their marriage began. Even before then. But then they had just seemed like kids growing up after a war. After three years of dating to get to know one another, and they still didn’t know everything about one another. Now they knew everything they could know. She knew his favorite books, and his hiding spots in the manor when he was a child. And he knew her favorite snacks and how to calm her down after a bad day. They’d seen the good, the bad, and the beautiful in one another. And now they were bringing someone new into this life.

“I’m going to be a dad?” he asks. Mouth agape. It was still evident he was processing this. When Hermione herself had figured out it was in Pansy’s bathroom after a ministry yule event, swearing the seafood hadn’t made her sick the previous year. Neville distracted Draco asking him ‘advice for how to propose’ and Hermione dragged Pansy into the bathroom with suspicion about her state.

After three minutes of staring at the bathroom counter. Those two lines appeared, and Hermione learned that she was carrying Draco’s child. After panicking herself, Pansy had calmed her frenzied spirit. “He’ll be ecstatic. You’re all he talks about.” The darker-haired woman had said. Hermione knew this much was true. Even in their Hogwarts days, she’d learned he had a fascination with her. She must have been as blind as Harry was without his glasses to not have seen it.

But now that they were married. Had that fascination remained? Or now that he’d gotten his fill would he move on? She doesn’t truly know what she had been expecting his reaction to be. Shocked, yes. But she hadn’t expected him to tug her into his lap with a crushing hug. Holding tightly to her, Hermione feels her frame collide with his. Looking into his eyes, she sees those familiar storms. The ones she saw every time she moved across the room. Lightning struck with every move she made. “And you’re okay with this?” she questions, eyes bright as she stares at him. They’d promised forever, was this something that would push that away? If he wasn’t ready to be a dad. If he didn’t want kids after all.

“Okay? Are you mad? Knowing that not only the world will know about us. But know that a piece of me is planted in you… that a piece of us is being brought into the world. I’m more than okay with this.” he says, pressing his lips to hers, softly and tenderly at first. “I hope Skeeter knows after this that not only does someone want you. But that you’re wanted enough that they marked you. Because I did mark you.” he murmurs against her lips. That possessive streak she knew so well made a highly obvious appearance. Their lips collided once again in a deep, almost bruising kiss as he took her bottom lip in between his teeth.

Something about the way he acted especially in moments leading up to their more passionate times had made her feral. She was wet, completely aroused. At this point, if she stood up, she was sure it would soak between her sleep shorts and knickers. At least she knew the horny and hot feelings weren’t hers alone ———

Below her Hermione could feel his cock hardening, he was turned on. Desperately so. Grinding against him, Hermione chuckled at the gasp that escaped his parted lips. Leaving room for her tongue to slide between his lips. Wrestling with his tongue for dominance over the situation. They continue, with Hermione anticipating that her lips would be bruised in no time if they continued. The idea of Skeeter’s first image of them including them both looking thoroughly shagged just somehow turned her on more, Draco’s hips rocking against hers.

Pulling his lips away from hers, Draco looks frenzied as he stares at her. Lips puffy and eyes glazed. “Granger if you don’t stop I’m going to come undone.” he rasps out, sounding just as desperate as she feels right at this moment. He held down onto her hips, trying to keep her on him.

Trailing his cheek and neck with her nose and lips she smiles against the skin. “I haven’t been Granger in two years. I thought you, of all people would know that." She knows she sounds cocky. But it was true. He hadn’t used her maiden name in years, and now that it came out of him, she wanted to remind him just who he married. Wiggling her hips down, ass hitting right against the bulge in his pants she eyes him innocently. Stopping after a moment just to see how quickly she could get him riled up.

“Sorry,” he clears his throat, feeling her lift herself slightly off his lap. “Oh no you little tease. I want you to feel what you’re doing to me, Malfoy.” he corrected the surname. And her innocent eyes grew as she grinds against him. “Take what you want,” he begs, and she thinks her husband sounds so pretty when he lets his needy side show. But she isn’t done playing with him quite yet.

“If you want something Malfoy,” she hotly breathes out against his ear. “I recommend you take it from me,” she smirked, seeing the way he swallowed harshly. They’re looking eye to eye now. And she can anticipate what would happen next. If she wasn’t pregnant now, at the end of this night she definitely would be.

Pulling her off of him, he stands. Not bothering to cover his erection-strained trousers. Throwing her over his shoulder just as he’d done on their wedding night. Instead of a white dress perfect for a bride, she wore a pair of flannel pajama shorts and his old Quidditch sweater. She watched the floor as he went through the library door, and down the halls of the manor. He throws open the door of their master bedroom, and he gently throws her down on the mattress.

Checkmate. She truly couldn’t lose.

[animation-is-my-jam]

Hey ! I meant to send this a long time ago when you were taking asks, but I left for vacation so i never got to. I watched Wordgirl again recently and I have been obsessed with Becky and Tobey !! I saw that you have older versions of them and that's my favorite part of the Ship you made(I love domestic AUS)

Question||

How would you imagine a Becky and Tobey wedding? Who do you think they would invite? The best man? Maid of honor?

Where would they get married? Who would be crying the most? Lol (sorry if thats a lot of questions)

Ah, thank you, that's sweet!! (I live for post-canon Tobecky dynamics, too) And don't worry. Yeah, I'm incredibly busy now, but I'll still take asks. And this one is a very good one, Thanks!!

How would I imagine their wedding?

Besides some ideas of what they would wear/outfits (that I've drawn before, but I might redesign again, ha). I actually haven't given it much thought beyond some things I think would occur. And I'm mostly talking about my future AU versions of Tobecky and characters since that's literally my staple canon here, but that can generally apply to my perspective Tobecky since future au is literally just a time skip story.

So basic ideas. I think they would have two different areas for their wedding. One is inside for it being private with family and another outside for the public or general invited guest. I mostly say this because I think it was a compromise of Tobey and Becky wanting a more occasional smaller wedding versus their family urging for a bigger event. And also for Wordgirl/Lexiconian related reasons. As I think by this point, all her closest friends and family would know her identity and would probably like some Lexiconian traditions applied to the marriage (at this point, she's been wanting to connect to her original planet, but not by much). But where would they actually get married at?

I know it's a bit of a joke to say the city's library, but I think that would be cute since they have a lot of memories with the location. Where they could ask in a favor for miss Dewey and the city to rent out the space and make room enough for a small venue and get legally married. And the bigger outdoor wedding could be in the park or a rented garden venue.

The main colors would be white, gold, blue, and scarlet. (Becky wanted some green in there, but the planner refused--saying the greenery of the plants and outdoors would be fine enough). I have no idea what the dress code or coloring would be on the guest outfits/groom mates. But I could see the bridesmaids having golden/yellow dresses.

Maid of honor for Becky...like if it isn't Violet, then what are we doing!! So yes, of course it's Violet.

For Tobey's best man...I know some would say its Scoops, or Two-brains, or Rex (depends on who they would see as Tobey's best male-adjacent friend), but what if I totally go in the bold direction of saying TJ. And yes--it's mostly because in Future AU, I'm the only one who plays with the idea of TJ and Tobey's brotherly-in-law dynamic to the point where they do see each other as close friends despite how opposite they are and how often they get into conflict. And I could definitely see Tobey only asking TJ to be the bestman for the sake of Tobey not wanting to give Scoops the satisfaction of admitting he's his best male friend, LJDJSSJ (I really gotta make that dynamic/relationship chart).

On who would they invite? Besides already the close friends and family attending (like the Botsfords, Mrs. McCallister (+other family), Violet, Scoops, Rex, Rose, Victoria, Johnson, Bob, and Ect). I think for the public wedding they would extend it to the villains. Becky would be a bit conflicted on it, but hey--if they're all at her wedding, then she can make sure they don't commit a crime during her special day. And idk maybe besides DTB, it wouldn't be strange to only have them invited under the guise of Tobey doing the inviting because of his former status/relationship with them. Like the villains being at the wedding would mostly be a Becky idea (bc wahh I'm still a sucker for her and them getting along 🥹, even if they don't know she's Wordgirl). Other than the villains...idk like the recurring characters that we see? Maybe the groceries store clerk, exposition guy, Tubing, Reginald (I mean, they are going to use his jewelry for the rings). Aside from Tubing, they weren't personally invited, but eh, Becky is happy enough to let them be there.

Other details: Who would do the catering? Well, not wanting there to be a war. Tobey and Becky probably just let both Butcher and Chuck do it. Mostly to help with Bob's appetite. And the baker and candlestick maker provide the cake.

Who would be the wedding planner? I would most definitely say Violet, but she's more of the designer than the planner. So...idk maybe Becky? Who would try to be organized and cautious to the point of a breakdown from the stress? Yeah, so it's her. Becky definitely will need all the reassurance in the world to get through the wedding. I don't think the whole event will go perfectly, when do they for their family? But stuff will work out in the end, and Becky's going get her dream wedding. (Even if Granny May was trying to steal the wedding gifts/lh)

Who would be crying the most? The easiest answer in my life, of course it would be Tim. I can imagine him also being in charge of the recording, but he's so filled up with tears that he didn't do a good job at it, lol. And, of course, he couldn't stop wailing when they exchanged vows.

Speaking of the vows. You better believe that Tobey probably would say a lot, but he managed to make it as brief as he could, while Becky will pull up a 20-page essay from out of where and start reading out loud. (Many are almost asleep when she's done with it) (Not Tobey though, he's just not trying to kiss her immediately when she's reading through).

And last thing. The person who would officiate? There were many contenders on the list... I would have said someone like Professor Tubing, or Leslie, or Beau Handsome, or the exposition guy. You know people who would just totally randomly have an officiant license. Another idea is Bob, but nobody besides Becky would understand him, and he's out there putting his heart out in a speech.

But I thought about it and just went with the idea of them getting ordained by one of Tobey's robot, probably made specifically for it. I say that because Tobey has to have at least one robot doing something significant in the ceremony, but also, it would be the ultimate call back to his drawing.

That's all I think for now about their wedding. Maybe one day, I'll go into it deeper on another post. Thank you for the ask!

[herstoriies]

Now onto the better wedding discussion! :D

The Aristide x Priscilla wedding in Joie de Paris!The Diva is finally tying the knot with who was at one time her former significant annoyance & archrival, discovered to be her soulmate ❤️❤️ (rotfl autocorrect almost wrote soup-mate 🤣!) It is still a fairytale <3 and perhaps better yet a love story in honest reality, a fitting compatibility, companionship, and mutual devotion. As well as their special mutual attraction of course ;)

Anyways! Perhaps one thing that stands out to me is Pris’ surprising want for simplicity & practicality in a wedding (nothing to get stressed over). Perhaps another way to phrase it is, quality over quantity.

Which on the surface seems ironic for Pris who in the pinnacle of her career as an opera starlet always lived life in Paris to its fullest to near exaggeration and kept up with an expensive lifestyle and living off gifts from dandies & stage-door johnies. Then again, it’s a new chapter, and she’s matured & character developed, and I mean, who she’s marrying has certainly rubbed off on her xD ! She is by no means to be mistaken to be miserly, but certainly a more responsible, conscious, and decisive economist xD (plus there’s honeymoon and general married life future things considerations worth spending etc etc all dandy~)

So what are these quality over quantity priorities? Pris’ personal pick would be fashion, food, & flowers (This is Paris, after all!). Everything else can be ‘humble’ xD! The location for the ceremony, the parish, and the reception, are something she is agreeable and open to suggestions. Be it in the country or shining lights of Paris both sound lovely. Surprisingly for someone with a larger than life personality and demands to be is frequently the center of attention, if you asked her, she’d prefer not being one for anything grandiose with numerous attendees. Rather, something more personal and intimate.

Memorable, yes. A great time, for sure. Entertaining & dancing? These are theatre folk, what did you expect. A full page in the newspaper and the talk of the town? No thank you. Whether she wants/likes it or not Pris does find herself in the gossip column often enough, so if there’s a tiny blurb… uhhh fine.

Rather than a spectacle this is a celebration <3

A warm celebration of celebrations she would want spent with those closest to the bride & groom and a most joyous celebration it will be ❤️

Ok some more into the fashion, food, and flowers tidbit!

Naturally, the dress is a statement piece. Of course, the dress will be designed by the House of Worth. Not so much for the status symbol but because she loves their work. Priscilla is a flashy peacock (& let’s face it, she’s a beauty and doesn’t shy to flaunt it!), and she always dresses spectacularly for the occasion and her wedding will be no different. Dressing for herself, and her significant other. And! One of my favorite historic tidbits I’ve learned is wedding dresses in that era would be repurposed afterwards.

That said also there will be something different to this gown’s details & construction compared to her past/everyday “peacock” attire, that’s fitting with her character development and the occasion and elegance. I found something that’s basically it :D might create a collage or something maybe draw it someday <3

The food must also be spectacular. Again, this is Paris. And a most special occasion. Be it for the private dinner, or guest hors d’oeuvres. The exact meal and food courses and cake (who cares about the Victorian tradition of fruit cake here, they can do better than that! xD), again she’s open to, so long as it’s excellent.

Ah yes and flowers too. It’s still being decided, but the bouquet will be fitting. perhaps including white roses & lilies of the valley. Garlands, tiny bouquets for decoration, etc at the wedding will also be present. Here it’s not so much as how exquisite or ornate or rare the flowers are, but that there are flowers. Even if it’s generously buying everything from the local flower girl & making someone’s day.

Oh yes and of course the photograph! (Was it still that era the daguerreotype?)

So! This is what I have so far, always room for revisions :3 more to come soon!

[castlebyersafterdark]

It's the redoing the "getting married" part that's like. Ok but, you've already been married? You did the vows, the officiant, said the words... the second ceremony is a repeat, a pretend. You've already done this. So I just cannot fathom doing that twice. Would some walk the aisle twice? You've already declared your piece! How is the emotion the second time? Why?

yeah... well, for the friends with the second ceremony, its probably because they wanted a lavish outdoor wedding but it's not possible to be officially married like that in the uk. here, to get legally married, you're restricted either to a council registry office with limited guests (an actual office, you get a slot of like 30 mins and you definitely don't walk down an aisle lol) or churches - and even then you have to have been going to church and prove you believe and all that, which is kind of pretending for many folks because its not common to be a religious practising christian who actually goes to church here anymore (can't speak for other religions and weddings of different cultures).

and they wanted this special location! and there was authenticity because they were saying new and different vows (you dont say vowels in a registry ceremony, you just promise legalities), and all their loved ones were there. so it was a celebration and ofc the party followed and it was in the same place, great for guests who only have to travel to one location.

so basically, its not redoing the romantic part because getting married in a registry office isn't romantic lol (well, not in the way most people want it to be).

seeing as millie is british, it may be similar to this where their actual wedding was just in a small place with a couple of loved ones, and she dressed nicely but it absolutely wasn't a 'ceremony'. but i dont know, is she getting married under US law? i dont know how it works. its usually legal reasons - she wants a destination wedding, but getting married in another country might not count for her citizenship etc. and, in a way, all weddings are performances, so even if you just have one, it's still very performative even if the emotion is authentic. i mean, walking down an aisle, standing there... name something more theatrical tbh!

and go vinny about only inviting people who deserve to be at your special day! x

Ok... this makes a bit more sense? It's the hopeless romantic in me who couldn't really mentally get behind the idea of repeating all the "romantic" or devotional parts twice, reciting vows twice, just for a smaller group vs. a different location and extended crowd. I guess I consider a justice of the peace / courthouse situation totally different than what I'm thinking of, but that does make sense to then have the formal "second" wedding. I guess I maybe assumed it was a whole second thing again with chairs set for guests, stand at the front of the group, officiant reading off whatever is decided to be read, exchange vows. I swear I've seen/read celebs doing all that twice for the same "marriage" and ?? That's where it seems odd. But I doubt that's what most mean by "second wedding." That's what confused me. Maybe "official wedding" idk it's all semantics really. Haha

So maybe I'm getting wrapped up in different mindsets and terminology. I guess I've never really referred to a courthouse marriage the same way as a wedding ceremony. But that could just be ignorance on my part, since I've never been involved in that? I've always understood that to be eloping, and then maybe later they have an actual wedding. Getting married without the wedding. Like you don't have to "run away together" to elope. Could be colloquial differences.

And YUP. I know exactly who is getting invited and who specifically isn't and I'm not pressed. We all have our lives. It's about love and family. Bigots and judgemental assholes aren't my family sooo 💁‍♂️

[houseofgerrard]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: TRISTAN BodyCon Black Colour Block Sheath Dress Medium​.

[ryiju-muunie]

What about a Gojo prince x a princess reader and its love at first sight? Then maybe they have some breeding-kink related sex, and perhaps they say I love you?

Whimper Like a Prince!

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!princess!reader/prince!Satoru Gojo Warnings: perverted gojo, heavy breeding kink, arranged marriage, creampie, p in v sex, pussy eating, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, L bomb, gojo will whimper trust, love at first sight, porn with plot or should I say plot with porn :), bathroom masturbation, gojo cums in his pants Word count: 4591 DESC:You and your new husband procreate

Back at it again with the subby gojo

Satoru never thought of himself as a pervert. In fact, he considered himself basically asexual, from how no one had ever interested him. No woman or man ever caught his attention, not even a little bit. There had to be something wrong with him, his parents thought so. They deliberated for days before going to their son and telling him about you. You were supposed to be different. You were supposed to be the perfect woman to marry into the Gojo clan. And you were the one they had signed him off to be married to. 

“Seriously? Not even in a say in my own wedding?” The Prince groaned, throwing his head back and letting white locks flow across his forehead. It was a pain to have to share a room with someone. Become married. All of it. It was a pain! He didn’t want to know anyone, he didn’t want to know you. He couldn't care less if it offended his parents or hurt your feelings; He didn’t want to do it. 

His life was fine! He could do whatever he wanted without a woman bossing him around. This would ruin it. This would make everything all wrong. Satoru said nothing else as his parents continued to lecture about how this would be good for him, a change of pace. How you were calm and reserved and perfect. All that bullshit he was tired of hearing. He didn’t care how perfect or beautiful you were, he didn’t want you. So he declined to see your photos and got up, strolling out of the common room and into one of the hallways. 

What's worse is they didn’t tell him that when he woke up the next morning and got dressed in the white suit they had laid out for him, Satoru was going to be wed. It was a pure white suit, white coat, and white undershirt, paired with white shoes and pants. It was a bit weird, making him look paler than he actually was. He looked like a demon, staring at his own blue eyes in his reflection. Who was that man? Who was the beast before him who was watching with a hungry gaze? A beast who longed to be forever alone. Satoru wasn’t scared of intimacy but he sure as hell didn’t like it. Maybe he avoided it as much as possible, that wasn’t wrong, was it? He didn’t need to be intimate with anyone as long as he had a say in it. So safe to say, he was a virgin. Unless you count fooling around with his best friend, which he didn’t. 

One maid knocked on his door and spoke quietly, saying his parents requested to meet him in the outdoor corridor. Gojo nodded and silently rolled his eyes, praying it wasn’t for scheduling the wedding. What he didn’t know was he was walking into his own wedding. He didn’t pay attention to the loud fanfare outside, it was probably just one of his parent's parties he was being forced to make an appearance at. Whatever, it wasn’t like it affected him in any way to say hi to a few guests. Then he could retreat into his room and hide underneath a blanket until the world disappeared. 

“Toru, honey, in here!” His mother, the queen, called out from a column that lined the huge archway, leading outside. He perked up at the sound of his mother's voice and followed it closely. Although it was hard to hear from all the music and noise, he managed to find her. She was in a long white gown, which didn’t catch him off guard, it was the scene behind her. A wedding. His wedding. Half of the seats were people wearing white, signaling his side of the family. Then the other half wore red, signaling yours. It made sense, his kingdom's colors were blue and white to symbolize a Gojo’s typical eye and hair color. 

His mouth twitched on the edge and slowly hung open, gaping at the scene, “Mom… are you fucking with me right now?” Satoru turned to look at her, with his eyes widening in a newfound rage. He was getting married now!? Now!!! In front of all these people! Oh but the mysterious and perfect you was nowhere to be seen. 

“Now, now… don’t give me that. It’s for the better,” she smiled reassuringly and attempted to put a hand on her son's shoulder blade, to calm him. Instead, he shrugged out of her grasp with a grumble and straightened his suit jacket. There had to be a way to get out of this. There had to be a way to get out of all of this. 

“Introducing!!!” A loud man shouted from a balcony overtop Satoru and his mother, “The crowned prince, Satoru Gojo, and the Queen!” A large spotlight flickered over to the both of them, stopping him in his tracks as he attempted to leave. He stared into the light like a deer caught in headlights unsure what to do. He was fucked. He was totally and utterly fucked. 

He felt his mother nudge his side, with a tense and tight grin upon her frail lips, “You have five seconds to stand straight before I slap you Satoru,” she spoke between her smile. Her son did as he was told and straightened his posture, turning on the perfect mask of a prince who wanted to get married. His eyes turned kind and his smile flashed wide. He looked like the perfect prince about to be wed to some nobody. 

His mother grabbed his hand and pulled him down the aisle, smiling and waving to everyone as she did so. Satoru refused to truly make eye contact with anyone, he didn’t want to exist. He wanted to pretend this was all some fucked up dream he was going to awaken from at any moment. Just getting pinched and sent back into bed was all he wanted. The Queen let go of his hand and signaled him to go on further, standing on the pedestal designated for the two truly participating in this wedding. He didn’t look as the loud man cleared his throat and introduced you by your name, he didn’t care to learn it. But something took over Satoru, maybe it was curiosity or just pure boredom, but he looked over at you. 

And his … his heart stopped. 

You were purely and utterly perfect in every shape of the word. Your face was adorned with jewels and makeup from your homeland, all red. Your hair was the same fiery red, and put up into an intricate style. But he wasn’t looking at that. Your face, your beautiful face. It was unique and something he’d never seen before. Features, that were all different from those of him and his family. Fuck … he liked it a lot. The way your lips jutted out in a regular stance, painted with a deep crimson. Then his eyes trailed down to your chest. 

Satoru never thought of himself as a pervert … until he met you. Your breasts were thick and filled with fat, hanging perfectly against your body. They perked up against your dress in a way that couldn’t have been natural, maybe by a bra of some kind that he couldn’t see. Your dress collar went low, exposing the skin between your breasts. There was something about him he wanted to squeeze and palm until you couldn’t take it. He wanted to rip apart your dress and taste your sweet nipples, feeling you grow wet under his touch. This sudden lust was becoming too much and it didn’t help he took in the rest of your figure. Your stomach lightly jutted out against your tight dress, followed by thick love handles and hips. He caught himself salivating just at the thought of pressing you against the wall and becoming suffocated by the plush, soft skin of your thighs. 

He turned away from staring at you and instead began to worry about the problem brewing in his pants. A very apparent and very erect problem. He was straining against his tight boxers and even tighter slacks, desperately aching for release. He wanted to rip apart his pants and touch himself while watching you stare at him indifferently. He loved it, fuck, he loved you. Was that possible? Was he just so overcome with lust it was blurring the lines of love? Well, he had never felt love before, so maybe it was the same as lust!

You approached him, with an older man on your left. He let go of your hand and let you step onto the pedestal yourself, coming face to face with your future husband. He couldn’t even feign disinterest or boredom, being this close to you was agony. Satoru’s body was purely on fire and he needed you to put it out with your touch. He stared at you, waiting for something to happen. The officiant began to speak her speech, but he heard nothing. All he could do was stare into your wide eyes as you stared into his. Did you feel the same thing as him? Were your souls becoming intertwined with every passing second, or was it just him?

“...Do you take Satoru Gojo to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The officiant asked you, turning your attention away from your future husband. You looked at her, then at Satoru.

Biting your bottom lip, you nodded, “I do.” Your voice. Your fucking voice. He was going to cum in his pants. Your voice was angelic, pure gold sliding into his senses. It was beautiful, you were beautiful! Everything about you was absolutely beautiful.  

“Satoru Gojo do-” The officiant began but she was cut off by Satoru’s abrupt, “I do.” 

Your eyes widened at the sight. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking but he didn’t care about that. He wanted to touch you so bad it was starting to hurt him and his cock. He was throbbing and aching for release, aching for you to release him from these chains. All you had to do was just touch his hand or his arm, and he’d find peace. 

“By the power vested in me by the kingdom, I pronounce you two man and wife. You may now kiss the bride,” she cleared her throat, stepping back and motioning to the newlywed couple. Satoru’s heart jumped from his chest to his throat. Kissing? They were going to kiss? Oh no. That was bad. That was going to be very bad. 

He stared at the officiant to you, pressing his lips in a thin line. Well… she did say kiss. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Satoru quickly began to convince himself he’d be fine, which was a mistake. He stepped forward and put two hands against your cheeks, inhaling to take in your warmth. You were the living embodiment of perfection, the soul of beauty, and the goddess of his life. Who cares if you just met two minutes ago?! Love at first sight can exist! Without saying anything else, he gave you a look which you nodded to, signaling you were ready for the kiss. 

Then your two souls became one and your lips pressed together. Annddd he came in his pants. Satoru didn’t mean for it to happen but the pleasure of being so close to you, smelling your scent, and feeling your body warmth. It felt so good, he let himself slip and found himself cumming into his pants from the sensation. Your lips were so soft and glossed up, molding against his in a very G-rated kiss. Although, he wished for more. He wanted to taste your tongue so badly. You pulled away first, staring at him. His face was red with flushed bits of pink scattering his hazy cheeks. His lips were delicately traced with gloss, and his eyes were fogged over. Small panting breaths came out of him as you both looked at each other.

“Did you…” You mumbled, nodding your head in the direction of his pants. 

“...Nu-uh…” Satoru whispered back, pulling back completely and clearing his throat, “BRB for normal reasons now,” he flashed his mother a winning smile and then promptly walked off the podium. It didn’t really matter, as the families had begun to mingle. So no one noticed him slipping out and wandering back to one of the many guest bathrooms in the palace. You watched him walk away with a different look in your eye that he didn’t have time to dissect. 

Satoru had one goal in the bathroom: clean his underwear and not take too long. He dropped his pants and stared at himself in the mirror, he looked like a complete mess. Nothing had ever made him cum like that. Sure he never felt attraction to people but he was a guy! Morning wood is a real issue. He let out a sigh and assessed the damage, pulling off his pants and underwear to begin to properly clean it. But something else took over him as he pulled out a roll of toilet paper. He could just fuck himself to the thought of you in here and no one would know. He could touch himself and think about how you felt against his touch, your plump skin, and your warm lips. 

A hand trailed from the toilet paper down to his growing and twitching cock. It was aching to be touched. His palm covered the tip and then sank, snaking around the shaft. With a small and gentle motion, he began to rub himself off. His hand didn’t feel as good as he knew yours would. Something about your small hands against his cock, taking him and feeling him in the ways he liked. Then your pretty mouth, gagging on his dick. He could practically feel your lips sucking his tip, and your tongue trailing around his urethra hole. It was too much for him and he had just begun to jack off, quickly cumming into his hand. It was a quick wave of pleasure that ran up his length and shot out his tip, into his hand. Satoru let out a shaky moan and kept stroking himself, cumming against the pleasure. 

Fuck he needed you so bad. 

Satoru had no idea you’d be waiting in his room after he got out of the bathroom. His underwear was completely past saving and he needed to change into something less cum filled. When he saw you seated on his bed, two arms crossed against your breasts he gasped. Two brows raised in confusion furrowed a bit, “Wh… Why are you in here?” 

“Did you cum in your pants?” You raised an eyebrow at him, watching him with your same blank stare. He blinked a few times. Oh! So you did notice more than he thought! 

He let out a small laugh and closed the door behind him, locking it subtly as he did so, “Whaaat? Why’d you say that?” 

“I heard you moan when we kissed. You got all … flustered,” you explained, motioning with your hands. As you moved, your breasts bounced against your skin, exposing them to Satoru’s perverted gaze. He was half paying attention and mainly salivating. He wanted to rub his swollen cock on your nipple and feel it harden, then fuck your tits until he came all over them. Then he wanted to grab them until you couldn’t bear it from sensitivity. 

“Why are you in here?” He asked, a low tone taking hold of his voice. You both were married now. It wouldn’t hurt to get more acquainted, would it? And it wouldn’t hurt to be more bold now, would it? Satoru began to approach you, kicking off his shoes and pulling at his white tie, his eyes on you like a predator on his innocent prey. 

“I… wanted to ask if you were okay,” your eyes met his and you bit your bottom lip. Fuck… just like that. He wanted you to bite your lip as he went down on you and fucked your tight cunt with his tongue. He wanted you to cross your eyes as he pumped you full of his kids, of the next generation. God, just the thought began to make him hard all over again. 

“Then why’re you on my bed?” He tilted his head, shrugging off his suit jacket and letting it hit the ground. You swallowed and moved both hands from your sides to rest behind you, stretching yourself back a bit. All for him, huh? He didn’t know you were a little tease. 

“Satoru,” you began but your breath caught in your throat when he was too close. He stood between your slightly spread legs, using his own knee to spread yours a bit more. The tension was so thick he could practically cut it with a knife. He needed you so bad, to run his hands along your fat skin and taste the wetness leaking from your cunt. He knew you were wet, you had to be. There was no way you’d be in this position and not be even the littlest bit aroused. He was aroused, it was obvious from the boner in his pants. 

He breathed out your name and sunk onto his knees, “If you don’t stop me in five seconds, I’m continuing,” one hand ran up your thigh, up your stomach and grabbed hold of your panties, “One,” he pulled at the hem of your underwear, “Two,” he pulled it down your thighs with one hand, “Three” it was down to your ankles, “Four” your dress was pushed up past your hips, “Five,” his mouth was face to face with your soaked pussy. You were gorgeous, perfect flaps waiting to be spread open by his mouth. 

“Sa..” You went to begin but his mouth was on your spot. You weren’t going to stop him anyway. Two fists balled up against the sheets and you felt him press a hand on your stomach, signaling you should lay down. Your legs found themselves thrown up against his shoulders, so he could be even closer to your wetness. Two hands suctioned against your hips and he did his magic. For someone who had never eaten pussy he was surprisingly good at it, lapping at you like you were the best meal he’s ever had. You tasted like savory heaven, something he’d never want to give up. His tongue rolled around your cunt for a few moments before he latched onto your sweet cunt, sucking like he never had before. He felt you tense up, rolling your hips to the sensation, and he knew he had found the perfect spot to please you. 

“Pl.. f-f-fuck… pleas- hah.. Mmm… please,” you whimpered, gasping and arching your back to the sensation. He wanted you to cum just had he had several times before. Satoru pulled his face back from your pussy, his chin glistening with your wetness, and pulled one hand from your hip. He needed to make you cum any way he could, and he’d heard that fingering made women feel pretty good. With ease, he sunk digit after digit inside of you, filling you up with three fingers. You felt so warm and plush, sticky, and … fuck warm. 

“What a whore, huh? You take all my fingers…” Gojo mumbled, leaning forward and pressing his mouth on your clit. He pushed his fingers in then out, and in then out, in a rhythmic dance to stimulate your senses. He felt your spongey walls clench around him when he hit your perfect spot and kept going, making sure to abuse it as best he could. His mouth helped too, licking your juices up as if there was no tomorrow, in his mind there wouldn’t be. He had to make the best of here and now as if he’d never get this chance again. 

He could tell you were close when your noises got louder, and your voice reached a higher octave. You moaned and groaned his name, begging to release all over his face. And when you did, you did something a bit unexpected. You squirted. Your body tensed and you rolled your hips a few times, going silent before a loud moan escaped your lips. Satoru didn’t stop and didn’t stop when he felt you cum all over him. It sprayed over his face, just getting a bit of his chin and neck but he didn’t care. Fuck, he thought it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen! 

Satoru pulled back and grinned, “I’m gonna fuck you until I can’t cum anymore, kay?” He didn’t wait for an answer, bringing you up further on the bed by your arms then promptly pouncing on you. You gasped when his mouth assaulted yours in a sloppy R-rated kiss. His tongue lapped yours and tased your saliva, moaning for more. It felt so good, building a burning sensation deep in his stomach. He needed to get off, and he needed to get off now. You heard him moan and whine into the kiss as he did exactly what he wanted to and touched your full breasts. He squeezed and palmed the skin just to hear you moan and whimper that it was too sensitive. That’s what made him strain more against his pants. 

He sat up and took off his pants, well attempted to. Satoru struggled against his belt, to the point where you had to sit up and help him. You cleared your throat and pulled off the belt, beginning to unbutton his pants, “So… did you also learn about the marriage yesterday?”

The white-haired male let out a lust-filled laugh and nodded, “Didn’t know it was happening today, though.” Once his pants were unbuttoned he shimmied out of them and his boxers, kicking them to the side and getting right back on top of you, “Mm…” he moaned against your mouth as he brought you back into a kiss, “I’m gonna fuck you till you’re swelling with my kid,” you moaned into the kiss when he said that, joining him in filling the room with your joint noises. 

Satoru pulled back and looked down at his cock. He was throbbing and leaked precum onto the sheets, in between your spread legs. It didn’t take him long before he grabbed the base of his cock and stroked it a few times, “You wanna be bred?” He asked, his voice almost hoarse as he spoke. 

“Mhm,” you cried out, whining like a little sub bitch. You reached out to grab his hand, “Just fuck me already…” You didn’t have to tell him twice. He continued to slowly stroke his cock as he lined it up with your folds, pressing the tip into your cunt just to see your reaction. You were so warm he had to stop himself from cumming right away, but he stayed strong and pushed in. Fuck, a whimper escaped his mouth and he leaned down to kiss you again. The kiss was desperate and messy, just aching to relieve the burning desires swelling in his body. It was electric how he felt about you in that moment, he needed you so bad it hurt. He didn’t just want to fuck you, he wanted to live in your ribcage like a little parasite.

He pulled back, then thrust in again, “F-hah.. Shit.. mm-m fu..fuck,” he threw his head back at the pleasure rising up his cock. He’d never get this kind of sensation from just simply fucking himself. Sure, fucking himself to the thought of you felt good, but this was on a whole other level of pleasure. You were warm like a sauna and he wanted to just thrust in you until you couldn’t walk, until you were full of his cum. So he began, thrusting in you like you were nothing more than a sex object. You gasped and pressed yourself against the mattress, before arching your back and rolling your hips as you did when he reached your pleasurable spot. You both were so sensitive, Satoru more so from the fact he had already cum twice, that he came within seconds of penetrating you. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop when you cried out and came for the second time, or if he was feeling too stimulated, he wanted you full. He wanted to watch you bulge from his cum and carry his kids. 

“F-fuck… I’m gonna.. Mm- fill you.. Hah.. with my- mm.. Kids,” he groaned, looking down at your perfect form. Satoru buried his head in the crook of your neck and bit down as the pleasure was getting to be too much. It was all-consuming, filling his whole body and all of his senses. He could feel his body jerking and spontaneously moving with every jolt of ecstasy. You were the same, crying out and wrapping your arms around his neck. He was balls deep in your wetness, taking in your noises and the plapping from both of your bodies together in pure bliss. He felt himself spill over again into your pussy, cumming to the point where it was beginning to hurt. But he didn’t want to stop, even though his dick was starting to become numb. It almost tickled at first when he kept thrusting through the sensitivity, but then it started feeling good again. So good he couldn’t help but bite even harder on your neck. You were talking it like the good slut you were, soaking up his cum and begging mindlessly for more.

Satoru gasped and kept thrusting, even though he was beginning to realize you might’ve milked him dry. He let out a whimper and pulled his head back to look at your dazed expression. Your makeup was smeared, mascara pooling at your eyes and lipstick against your cheek. He didn’t care, you were still gorgeous. 

So he was surprised when he felt himself cum again and he blurted out, “I ..f- mmshit.. F-.. love… you.. Iloveyouiloveyou.” 

His dick was so tender he was beginning to lose feeling in every motion, so his thrusts began to slow to a stop. He pulled himself off of your sweet cunt and plopped down beside you, taking in gasps of air as if he was going to die at any minute. Now he knew why men were addicted to sex. Sex was amazing! Marriage was amazing! How could he have dismissed it so early on without even giving it a try? If this was how sex and marriage truly were, he would’ve done this such a long time ago! 

“You… love me?” You murmured, turning your head to look at your husband. Gojo looked back at you with wide eyes full of … well tiredness and confusion. He was so out of it that he didn’t even process he had said it until you pointed it out. A few silent moments passed as he tried to think of what to do. Well shit, now he might not have that amazing explosive sex anymore. 

“I love you too… I think. It’s weird, I felt like I did when I first saw you,” you continued, turning on your side to watch him with delicate eyes. You … also loved him? If he wasn’t sore and numb in his dick at the same time he would’ve fucked you again. 

Satoru let out a breathless laugh and outstretched one of his arms to rest on your waist, “Yeah, me too.”

[barbaramoorersm]

October 15, 2023

October 15, 2023

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Isaiah 25: 6-10a

The prophet describes God’s love and care for the people in terms of a banquet.

Psalm 23

Perhaps the most famous of all the Psalms describes God as the Good Shepherd.

Philippians 4:12-14, 19-20

Paul writes about his reliance upon God in all circumstances.

Matthew 22: 1-14

The Gospel parable about the Kingdom of Heaven describes it as a wedding banquet.

At a gathering of my neighbors last Friday, the discussion of proper attire came up in relationship to the US Senate debate about dress codes.  We had different opinions.  The younger men there said that often, certain formal dress attire carries a message of hidden elitism and superiority.  I on the other hand, was speaking about respect for institutions in which these folks serve.  We did not change opinions but I understood their view.  Then the Gospel for this weekend appears and there is a question about proper attire at a wedding feast.  How ironic.

Jesus begins his instruction with a parable and the words, “The Kingdom of Heaven may be likened to a king who gave a wedding feast for his son.”  But there is a lot more to the story than a wedding banquet.  So, let us look more deeply into the parable.  The King’s servants went out to “summon” those invited guests.  But even after receiving the invitation, they refused to come.  How insulting for the King.  But he preserved and a second summons happened and some again refused to respond, and some of the King’s servants were killed.  Then for the third time his servants went out and found “good and bad alike” and the “hall was filled with guests.”   

One basic theme we face today is the power and place of a banquet in Scripture.  The banquet and marriage festivals are themes for God’s relationship with the Jewish people.  Isaiah seems to be making that point when he writes to the ancient Jews, “The Lord will provide a feast of rich food and choice wines.”   These words indicate God’s care for God’s people.

The open table is also a quality of Jesus’ ministry.  He ate with those who were marginal and who were denied a place at a real or symbolic table of life.  The gospel today says the servants were told to bring to the table, “the good and bad alike.”  And Jesus practices that “open table” during his life time. 

The question about the man who came without proper attire has raised concerns for many.  It sounds so harsh. Or is Matthew trying to say that the guest never took the banquet or invitation seriously? Or just dropped in not aware of its importance?  I wonder!

Our world, nation and church and filled with “good and bad” alike and we are all invited to the Divine Banquet, and to be part of the Kingdom of Heaven here and in the future.  But today as we observe our nation and world, the symbolic “open table” and “the symbolic banquet table” are not fully available to the wider community.  But that openness is so central to Jesus.

We have immigrants struggling to get into our “open table” here in USA and while the present influx of people is creating hugh problems, our Congress refuses to establish a fair, controlled, and open system.  A system that allows people to share their gifts, and fill our nations’ needs.

Isaiah writes that “God will destroy the veil that veils all peoples, the web that is woven over all nations.”  Is he saying that God will enable us to remove the veils that close our individual and communal eyes, minds, and attitudes toward the needs and goodness of others?  In other words, Isaiah says that, “God will wipe away the tears from every face.”  

May this coming week enable us to see that even in the smallest of ways we can open the “table of our lives and minds” to another, and symbolically wipe away the tears from the eyes of those who feel so marginal.  This is on the agenda of the Synod in Rome this month and I believe should be on the agenda of all faith communities and governments these days.  Rather than an agenda of anger, lies, superiority, and threats, perhaps Jesus’ invitation to “the good and bad alike” might move us to see all God’s people at the table loved and accepted.  Such acceptance can lead to wonderful things.

[itsdanii]

hii i just read all of your masterlist and i loved it kdjzjsj. Could i request a scenario where Asahi has been working long hours and never gets to see his wife. And his wife is secretly pregnant :o so they get into a scrabble and all is revealed but happy ending coz i cant do sad ending ny heart might shatter

Baby Daddy

hey, bub. thank you so much for requesting! here's an asahi angst to fluff with a pregnant wife. i hope you like it ❤️ stay healthy and hydrated!

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: mentions of nausea, mentions of monthly period, suggestive content

ft. asahi azumane

reminder 1: lashing out on your wife is not a good practice, especially if you're unaware that the said wife is carrying your child inside her womb

reminder 2: never slam the door shut on your wife

With shaky hands, you stared at the pregnancy test you were holding. Tears of happiness were streaming down your cheeks as you took in the two lines signifying that you are indeed pregnant.

You've been feeling nauseous these past few weeks and the moment you noticed that you skipped your monthly period, you immediately bought a pregnancy test to confirm your suspicions.

And so, there you are, now holding the positive test as you let the feeling of hope and happiness embrace your being. You smiled and reached down to place your free hand on your nonprominent baby bump. Sure, it was too small to be noticeable yet but the fact that you knew that there's a life forming inside you made you happier than you could've ever expected.

"Hi, baby. I know you can't hear mommy yet, but I want you to know that she already loves you very much," you whispered while rubbing small circles on your skin.

Once you finally calmed yourself down from the exciting news, you took a shower and put on some presentable clothes, the red silk of the dress you're wearing shaping your body perfectly.

You stared at yourself on the mirror and smiled in satisfaction. Despite how the dress accentuated your curves, it wasn't too tight to suffocate your lower belly. You put on some light make up and kissed your wedding ring as you finished.

The next thing you did was proceed to the kitchen to prepare some fancy dinner for both you and your husband, giving the table a finishing touch with a bottle of wine for Asahi.

You glanced at the clock and noticed that it was already 9 in the evening yet your husband was still out. You decided to send him a message but only frowned when you received no reply. Sighing, you instinctively placed your hand on your lower belly as you felt a sudden distress.

What if he didn't want the baby?

What if he leaves you?

What if he realizes that he no longer loves you?

What if-

The sound of door opening interrupted you from your thoughts and you immediately stood up to welcome your husband.

Lately, Asahi had been coming home late, always overworking himself to the point of exhaustion. To be honest, you were seriously starting to get worried but everytime you tried to confront him, he would only grunt at you and head to sleep.

You made your way to Asahi and helped him with the stuff that he was carrying, making sure that you only took the light stuff in your arms. "Welcome home, love," you said affectionately and pressed a lingering kiss on his lips.

Unlike the usual, Asahi didn't wrap his arm around your waist nor buried his face on the crook of your neck. You frowned at the lack of affection but decided to let it pass.

"What's the occasion?" he asked, finally taking notice of the food you prepared. The smell of steak was still lingering in the air and despite how it slightly made you feel lightheaded, you held it in knowing how much Asahi loved it everytime you cook steak.

"Nothing," you said as you placed some of his stuff down. "I just wanted to make you some nice dinner since we haven't been spending that much time lately."

Instead of answering, he only sighed and flashed you an apologetic smile. He made his way to his seat and waited for you before eating.

Silence enveloped the two of you and you can't help but feel your palms starting to get sweaty. The way he seemed to rush his food made you feel as if he was only eating as to not offend you. As you were about to speak, he downed his glass of wine in one go before standing up.

"I'm finished. I'll go ahead to bed, okay?" your husband said as he placed a kiss on top of your head, the sweet gesture doing nothing to soothe the negative feeling bubbling inside you.

You stood up and wrapped your arms around him from the back, hands gripping each other to lock him to your embrace. "Love, I missed you," you murmured against his back.

"Y/n, I don't have time for this. I'm tired, okay?" Asahi tried to uncoil your arms around him and groaned when you won't let him.

"Don't want to let go yet. I know that if I do, you'll go to bed again and when I wake up, you'll be gone. Can't I have even just a little bit of your time?" Your voice almost cracked at the end as the toll of his absences finally made its way to you.

He applied a little force to remove your arms before turning around to face you, a deep scowl now present on his face as he stared down at you. "Time? You want time? I'm sorry if I don't give you enough. Unlike you who just stay at home and do nothing, I have work. I have priorities so I'm sorry if you think that I'm not giving you enough attention. Geez, y/n. I'm your husband, not your damn babysitter."

"You call yourself a husband when you can't even prioritize your own wife?" you spat angrily at him.

You knew that you offended him by the way his jaw clenched yet you stood your ground because you knew that the problem wouldn't be resolved unless you confronted it head on.

"I wasn't aware that it's a wife's job to nag at her husband nonstop," he spat back. "Stop being childish and maybe then you'll do something productive and not just spending your time sitting pretty."

Asahi didn't let you speak and opted on turning his back on you. Within a few seconds, you were left alone as the door of your bedroom slammed shut.

You felt your blood run cold as you stared at the door in front of you. "I'm sorry," you whispered, not to yourself nor to your husband but to your baby.

Quietly, you began to clean up the table and wash the dishes. You groaned as you felt an upcoming headache starting to form, no doubt due to the stress you're currently experiencing.

You dried your hands and turned off the lights before making your way to the guest room. Your husband basically slammed the door on you which means that he didn't want you to disturb him, right? So if it's space that he wants, it's space that he'll get.

You curled yourself against the bed, the empty space beside you making you feel lonely. You were used to sleeping beside Asahi. Despite him always coming home late, you never missed the feel of him pressing apologetic kisses on your skin.

It wasn't long until a sob escaped your lips. Your fingers gripped the pillow beside you tightly as you burried your face against the soft cotton, silently wishing that it was your husband you're embracing instead of the white material.

Unbeknownst to you, Asahi was just as distressed as you were.

He couldn't stop himself from tossing and turning as he anxiously waited for you to open the door and fit yourself in his arms. He didn't mean to slam the door at you. He only applied a bit of force not knowing that the impact would be that much.

God, he didn't even want to fight you.

But the feeling of stress and exhaustion from his work along with the expectations of people made him irritable which then resulted to him snapping at you.

Not being able to resist you anymore, Asahi swallowed his pride and made his way to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water to wake himself up before he talks to you.

But he guessed that the cold water was no longer needed.

Because there sitting on top of the toilet seat are two pregnancy tests with both positive results. He carefully picked up one of the tests and stared at it with shock evident on his face.

You're pregnant.

You're carrying his unborn child and he just shouted at you, called you childish and disregarded your feelings.

Instant regret made its way to him and he felt his heart rate picking up. "Shit," Asahi whispered to himself as he paced left and right inside the bathroom, hands gripping the pregnancy tests tightly.

Asahi quickly made his way to the living room, eyes widening in fear upon seeing you nowhere. He surveryed the whole house while calling out for your name and only stopped when he saw your curled up form inside one of the guest rooms.

He sighed in relief and made his way to you, gently scooping you in his arms to carry you back to your shared bedroom. He removed the few stray hair from your face and placed a small kiss on your forehead and both of your swollen eyes, obviously the result of crying.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered as he showered your skin with kisses.

"Azumane," you called out with a raspy voice as you woke up from the light feeling of lips trailing on your skin.

Your husband stopped what he was doing and looked at you. "You're pregnant." It wasn't a question, no. It was a statement, one that was enough to bring tears into your eyes.

"I am," you said with a nod and took his hand, placing it on the spot where your bump will soon make its appearance.

Despite being cover by the dress you're wearing, he leaned down and kissed your lower belly lovingly. Pulling away, Asahi shifted himself to lay beside you, his hand reaching for yours to bring it to his lips.

"Im so sorry for what happened earlier," he whispered. He took your lack of response as a signal to continue speaking, one hand sliding around your waist to pull you closer to him.

"Im sorry for shouting at you and for neglecting my job as a husband. I was too focused on proving myself to my co-workers that I forgot the person waiting for me at home." He let go of your hand and wiped your tears with his thumb, his hand cupping your face as you leaned to his touch. "Please don't cry, my love. You know I hate seeing you cry."

"It's your fault," you mumbled with a shaky voice. "It's just... It's so unfair that I'm your wife but I still have to ask for your time and attention when in reality, you should be the one to give those to me without me asking."

"I know. I know, love." Guilt and regret were evident in his voice and the more Asahi watch you let everything out, the more he hated himself for being a bad husband. "But I promise you it won't happen again. I'll be a better husband and the best father to our child. So please..."

You nodded and buried your face to his chest, his scent helping you calm down as you cried everything out. Your hand gripped the back of his shirt tightly as you sobbed in his arms, warmth enveloping you as he rubbed your back soothingly.

"You're okay, we're okay," Asahi whispered, pressing a kiss on top of your head as he held you without any intent of letting you go. "We're okay, right?"

You looked up at him with tear stained cheeks. "We're okay," you said reassuringly.

After a few minutes of enjoying each other's embrace, Asahi slowly pulled away. A whine escaped your lips making him chuckle slightly.

"You dressed up for me?" he asked as he raked his eyes down your figure.

"I wanted to look good for you," you said shyly. "I haven't got the chance to change since you basically slammed the door on me."

"I already apologized with words." Asahi gave your lips a peck before settling himself between your legs, eyes looking up at you as he slowly hiked your dress up, a gasp escaping your lips as his fingertips grazed your thighs.

"Now let me apologize with my actions."

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

question: do you prefer the plain divider or this pink one?

[stupendousgardenunknown]

All of You

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x f!reader

Word count: 4k

Warnings: cheating, implied cheating, extramarital affair

Notes: first time posting on here!! All characters are aged up and this is a SiliconValleyAU for kicks

Chapter 1: Should Know Better

It was your birthday party, and you were already having a miserable time. A flute of champagne in your hands, you consulted the chef as he lamented he didn’t have enough ingredients to make as many hors d’oeuvres as he planned to.

“Too many people! I thought there were only 100!” He said, exasperated. And to be honest, you were too. Your husband, Albert, had pretty much invited all of Silicon Valley to your 29th birthday party, and without so much as consulting you about it. It wasn’t until earlier when he came home from work that he decided to drop the bomb on you as you were sitting at your vanity, trying to decide if you should go with the emerald or diamond earrings that he casually dropped a “Oh, by the way, I invited a few more friends.”

“I know, I know, tell you what,” You tried to calm him, handing him your phone. You still didn’t have your shoes on and guests were expected to arrive in less than an hour. Your husband was upstairs showering. Useless. You loved him, really. But it was all work with him. If your face didn’t have a sparkling new case on it, he didn’t look at you. He was a patent lawyer from Yale and found major success here in California, which was how he was able to afford a 4.6 million dollar house in San Jose. “Here’s my phone, Favor whatever you need from the grocery store. No limit.” You smiled at him, hoping that was going to be the end of it. He looked conflicted, Matthew was a well known catering chef in the area, but he also was a great friend. You were one of his first clients that put him on the map, for some reason, people really trusted what you thought on party planning. And once you suggested Matthew who made “am-AH-zing mini tacos” to your cycling class he gained 20 new clients the next day.

“Fine,” He gave in, already opening the app and clicking on items.

“Fine?” You asked again, holding your fists close to your chest in hopefulness.

“Fine.” He said again, playfully putting on an angry look. “But don’t do this to me again!” He pointed at you and you held up your hands in a fake surrender.

“I’m sorry! It was the husband!” You said and Matthew groaned in annoyance. Not skipping a beat, you turned to run back upstairs, trying to not sweat in your party dress. Count on your husband to have you basically running your own birthday party.

“Oh honey...” You sang, strolling into your shared bedroom. He was out of the shower -Thank God- and trying to decide which tie to go with his suit. Wordlessly, you pointed at the one that best matched your dress color and walked into the bathroom to finish your makeup.

“Work was so stressful today, baby, I’m sorry I was late getting home.” He came up from behind and laid a kiss onto your exposed shoulder. Normally you would take him saying sorry with a look and a returned kiss. He was acting as if being home for your birthday party was a favor, an inconvenience really. But you supposed being married to one of the Top Lawyers in town came with its cons. Such as your husband being away from home almost 100% of the time.

You had met when he came to your start up, you were a young marketing director- although, you were the only one in the marketing department, and he claims he was just absolutely smitten. He just had to have you. So began the wooing. He would send flowers and chocolates to your work even after his business was done there until you would accept a date. Then a date turned into two more dates, and two more dates turned into a committed relationship. Then a proposal in Paris during a “spontaneous trip”. Then finally a wedding in Palm Springs with everything you could have wanted. He was a solid ten years older than you sure, but now you were a stay at home wife who could do anything she wanted. Sometimes you missed working to earn your keep, waking up everyday with a purpose and thinking you were making a change. Now, you woke up, attended whatever new fitness class there was and spent the rest of the day finding something to do. Lately it was volunteering as a board member for a local non profit.

Before you knew it, the doorbell was ringing and you, along with Albert, were greeting guests. Graciously saying “thank you for coming” to everyone, shaking hands, and wearing your signature “Hi, I’m the trophy wife of a famous patent lawyer.” smile. One that never quite reached your eyes.

There were a few local politicians, judges, activists. Girls you invited from spin class, a few from your start up days, a couple of other non-profit board members, even some directors of the bigger activist organizations. After your third or fourth champagne flute, everything started to blur together. After the second “joke” about how you were turning 30 here shortly, so Albert, would have to trade you in for a “newer” model from one of his judge friends you decided it was time for a break.

After waving them off and saying you needed to visit the “powder room” and boisterous laughs from the older men you made your way up the staircase. You could feel yourself sweating, the room suddenly feeling 95 degrees, and checked the thermostat but it lied- saying it was only a cool 70 degrees in the house. You proceeded to the room, nobody would mind if you made a quick outfit change right?

But a figure stood in your way, a taller man. He was staring at a painting you had hung in the hallway to your bedroom, one hand deep in his suit pocket and half lidded eyes taking in the artwork. It was an older painting, back in the early days, your then-boyfriend had taken you to a gallery opening. You had bragged that you were somewhat of an art connoisseur and out of all of the oil paintings that reminded you of the works of Edouard Manet, this one in particular, just struck something in you. It was a mother, being held by a child in a series of some reverse mommy-daddy issues commentary. You had said you liked it, unable to take your eyes off of it and by the time you were leaving the gallery, Albert informed you that he had bought it and it should be delivered within the next two weeks.

He had badly dyed purple hair, and something told you it was more of a rebel-without-a-case statement more than it was a simple lack of money as resources by the way his suit seemed perfectly tailored to him. A sharp, angular nose. From his side profile, he almost reminded you of a Roman God. Deep set eyes, but slightly thin eyebrows. He noticed your presence, straightening slightly and gesturing towards the painting with a hand that held a flute of champagne.

“This is the one piece I couldn’t seem to find.” He started, looking at you, and you couldn’t miss the way his eyes slowly rolled down your body. As if he wanted to savor every bit of you, take you into his memory and keep you there forever. You could feel chills run down your body and you realize it’s been ages since you felt anyone looked at you like that. With such intensity- such purpose.

“Excuse me?” Was all you could muster out, voice cracking slightly. A crooked smile broke out on his face and he shifted, leaning towards you as you stepped closer.

“This piece,” He said and suddenly you were so close you could smell the fruity notes from the champagne on his breath. “I saw this collection when the gallery first opened, I wanted to buy it all, but the artist said that this one in particular was...” He drew back, looking over you once more, eyes noticeably catching on the rock that lay upon your ring finger,

“Spoken for.” Your eyes locked, and you could see how even his eyebrows were dyed the same shade of deep purple. His eyes however, a deep black like obsidian that somehow reflected the light from his hair.

“Uh,” You felt warm all over, if you were sweating before you were in a sauna now. You weren’t blushing from his intense gaze, it was just hot in here.

“Yeah, when I saw this one… It just really spoke to me.” You said carefully, gesturing towards the painting and he followed. “I... have... a complicated relationship with my mother,” What are you saying? You couldn’t stop. Something about him just made you want to open up, you may as well rip open your own rib cage and let him explore everything inside you.

“And, sometimes I felt like I was the one caring for her.” You finished, trying to control your lips from moving but they had a mind of their own. You never told anyone that. Albert was the only one who knew that, your husband was the only one with that information. The purple-haired man nodded, eyes flickering between you and the painting.

“Interesting.” Was all he said, and you were immediately mortified. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die from the embarrassment, but you settled for retreating into your room to change into a more breathable dress. Before you could move, let alone say something a flash of shock ran across the man’s face.

“‘M sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself.” He reached out to you.

“I’m Shinsou, Shinsou Hitoshi.” The name rang no bells, and the more you tried to think of it, you couldn’t even place his face at the gallery opening. It was maybe 9 years ago, a different era. Back when you were still head over heels in love with your husband, blind to literally everything and everyone else.

“Hi,” You said, your hand slipping into his as you stated your full name. His eyes clicked with recognition and he gave another half smile.

“Ah, lady of the house.” He said coolly, and it somehow reminded you of a river. Smooth, and strong. His grip was firm, and he kept eye contact as he leaned down, pressing his lips upon the hand of your hand like this was 18th century Europe. Your heart leapt into your throat as a million volts of electricity ran through you. Your heart was pounding, and nerves coiled into your stomach. It felt like hours in those few seconds, and your mind was screaming at you to yank your hand away. This was no way to greet a married woman, to make her feel things she hadn’t felt in years. His lips felt way too soft, and way too full on your skin. And the way he was looking up at you through those half lidded eyes… you felt as if your lungs had given up.

Suddenly you heard your husband calling your name, and without realizing you snapped your hand back, pulling it behind your back like it had Shinsou’s mark burned into your skin.

“Sweetie- come down and meet these fine folks!” You turned and stepped closer to the railing, your husband’s face was flush and you could tell he was more than a few drinks in. He hardly drank, so when he allowed himself to drink, he couldn’t quite remember his limit. You mentally reeled, already preparing to deal with the fact he was going to be sick tonight if not attempt to pee in the pool again.

“C-Coming.” You yelled down. No dress change for you it would seem. You turned back to Shinsou.

“It was-” Good? A Pleasure? These words were all true, but for some reason you didn’t want to admit them. It was too good, too much a pleasure.

“Nice to meet you.” You said, after a second of hesitation. Nice was safe. Nice meant nothing more. Shinsou looked at you again, those dark eyes taking you in, as if trying to read even the slightest movement. Trying to read you.

“Nice to meet you as well,” He says your name and it flows out of his lips so effortlessly, breathlessly even like he can’t even believe it’s dripping off his tongue. He wanted more than just your name on his tongue, however.

“Happy Birthday.” He says again, raising his glass to toast you and you return the gesture before turning and making your way down the staircase.

…

The “fine folks” Albert wanted to introduce you to were some young venture capitalists from D.C. They gave you their pitch for their firm, and asked if you knew any startups that you saw worth investing in since you were “on the ground” for this area. You told them about your experience at the start up, neglecting to say how you quit since not only it was bought out by Google but because you got married. They listened intently, but you could tell they tuned out when you started talking about what your non-profit was working on, which was bringing technology to the underserved communities in Silicon Valley. Not wanting to waste your breath you set a hand on your husband’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, I’m going to go check on the kitchen and make sure we have enough drinks to go around. Please enjoy yourselves.” You said in your best hostess voice. They didn’t seem heartbroken by your sudden departure, in fact your husband seemed to brush it off. As soon as you stepped away he told them some un-funny joke which caused them to burst out in laughter out of obligation. It echoed in the room and you stepped into the kitchen. Matthew looked considerably less stressed than before, and you eyed the empty grocery bags, trying to guess the amount he could have possibly spent using your account. There were a few plates of hors d'oeuvres left, the catering staff cycling out with their trays of food and drink.

“Better, Matthew?” You asked. Matthew smirked at you, face shining from a thin sheen of sweat from being in a hot kitchen the past few hours.

“$546 better.” He said and you waved it off, walking towards him.

“A drop in the bucket.” You retorted.

“I just wanted to check on you.” You breathed and Matthew scanned the room. Satisfied with the laughter from the entertaining areas.

“And who’s checking on you?” The brunette’s gaze fell on you and you weren’t even sure how to answer. Should you be honest and say you were bored out of your mind, that you didn’t even like half of these people that were here in your home celebrating your birthday?

“I’m okay.” You lied, but the way Matthew looked at you told you that he didn’t believe you for a second. He didn’t fight it though, instead he patted your exposed shoulder and stepped towards the kitchen island, inspecting the desserts.

“Your phone is on the counter if you want it back.” He muttered, you grabbed your device, switching it open and frowned at the lack of notifications. No texts, no birthday wishes, nothing. Before you were married, you had a thriving social life. You would go to the hottest bars with friends, have brunch on weekends with people who actually gave a shit about your day-to-day life. Now? You showed up to events to support your husband, so everyone could whisper and murmur what a hot young wife he had. You volunteered at drives to help the homeless, showed up to shop openings because for some odd reason, people liked you. You were some sort of novelty because you didn’t grow up the same way a lot of these Silicon Valley yuppies did. You actually struggled. You hated the way they would coax you to continue to tell your life story, how you grew up in some small town in the south, took a job right out of college, moved everything here and married up. You were every sorority girl’s wet dream. Sometimes you wanted to point at your lowly Marketing degree that hung just below you husband’s law degree and tell them that you had accomplishments too. You had dreams and goals too.

But you somehow doubted that. As you walked back out in the crowd, mumbling hellos to those who greeted you you tried to think of what you could have possibly wanted besides this. You have a husband who gave you everything- except his time, a house that landed you on Architect’s Digest more than once, and a meaningful career- that doesn’t actually pay you.

“Sweetie-” Your husband beckoned you, knocking you out of your daze. And Albert, the story was that his family immigrated here from Europe with maybe a penny to their name. They opened a butchery in upstate New York back when it was actually affordable and poured everything they had into his schooling. He got his degree in Computer Science before realizing that he just had a knack for debating other boys in school. He took his LSAT and received an almost perfect score, which led him to a full ride scholarship where he decided to go into patent law.

The story was 100% true, it just lacked the tiny detail that the only reason his parents immigrated was because Albert’s 45 year old father had knocked up his 17 year old mother and to avoid scandal- they fled to the states. Seemed the men in his family had a type.

“I want to introduce you to someone,” Albert wasn’t an unattractive man. But he wasn’t going to be on the cover of PlayGirl anytime soon, even in his finest years. He was a pale man, dark brown hair with a hairline that he blamed on stress but you had seen his childhood photos, and bright blue eyes. You took your place next to him, his arms effortlessly wrapping around your waist. You focused and could see that Shinsou was standing directly in front of you. His dark eyes now glittering at the sight of you, his glum features suddenly filling with life as if you had been the one to breathe life back into him.

“Sweetie- this is Shins-”

“We already met.” You interjected. You didn't want his name to come out of Albert’s mouth. Like he would taint it somehow. Shinsou even seemed surprised that you spoke up, so defiant and curt. He decided he liked it. Albert looked at you incredulously, his drunken thoughts trying to keep up with what had happened.

“I saw him earlier admiring that magnificent Arlo you had bought me back when we were dating.” You saved, gripping his bicep in your hand assuringly. You flashed him your pearly whites- thanks to a Dr. Richardson and you could feel Albert switching gears, appreciating that you were steadying him as well.

“Right, beautiful painting isn’t it?” Albert joked, and Shinsou smiled back- a soft smile, although his eyes were unnervingly focused on you.

“The most,” Shinsou said, sipping from his glass and you couldn’t help but notice the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with each sip.

“Well, my lovely little wife here,” You hated it when he called you that. “She’s a board member at this cute little non-profit,” And he only called it the “cute little non-profit” when he forgot what it was called. You had memorized each patent case that he won, mostly because each time he would tell the stories for weeks on end. But you did, and he couldn’t even remember the name of the organization you had dedicated 75% of your time to. You were little. Your non-profit work was little. Everything, compared to him was little. If you were annoyed, you hid it well underneath a polite smile.

“She has lots of ideas for events she wants to host,” It was his way of lumping you off to go be busy. So that you would stop harping on him to spend more time with you. He tended to do this; introduce you to powerful and wealthy people, collaborate with them on some event that would take you roughly 4 months to plan. 4 months where you would be hyper focused, and too tired to want to go to dinners. 4 months where he didn’t need to text you to not “wait up” because you would be calling venues and corporate partners, not even realizing it was 10PM and your husband was still at his office.

You never suspected he was cheating. For some reason, that was worse. At least that would be a good reason to divorce him and you would be able to collect a nice sum as stated in your prenup. He was just… busy.

“Oh?” Shinsou’s voice rang out like a bell, awakening you from your slumber of ordinariness. He had the ghost of a smile on his lips, like you were the most fascinating thing he’d laid eyes on. Before you even had the chance to say anything, the taller man reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a card.

“Tell you what- let’s grab some lunch at my office tomorrow and we can talk about it.” The words came out smooth like butter- like this was a line he said several times a day. You had to tell yourself that. That you weren’t special- he said this to a lot of people. A lot of women. Women who were probably a lot younger and more beautiful than you.

“Th-Thanks.” Your eyes met his, and you could swear they were the same shade of purple as his hair. You could feel your heart stop, blood had stopped flowing throughout your entire body. Your hand was extended, open, inviting.

“No,” He breathed life back into you as his fingers grazed over yours, and an electric current ran through your entire body. Jump starting every single cell, igniting each strand of muscle. Was he lingering? You wondered. He was, because immediately his lips formed a tight line and he quickly glanced at your husband, as if checking to see if anyone else saw the obvious spark between you two. His hand quickly drew back into his pocket, like he couldn't trust his hand out in the open anymore. Because he was sure it would be drawn to much more than just your hand if left unattended. “Thank you.” He gave you a low nod and you returned it with a strained smile, so tight and forced you could feel your cheeks hurt. Something must have switched off in Shinsou’s mind because he suddenly turned to your hand, bringing a hand back to securely squeeze Albert’s shoulder.

“Well- it’s about time I turn in for the evening. Thank you and your-” He glanced at you, noticeably gulping nervously. “Lovely wife for a fantastic party.” Albert laughed as he said his usual “get home safe, hope you don’t wake up with too bad of a hangover!” Haha- so funny, Albert. Shinsou didn’t hesitate to turn on his heels and walk out.

Don’t leave yet, you wanted to say. The words were on the tip of your tongue. You could taste them. You had just met Shinsou Hitoshi, and he already stained your soul. You knew there would be no way to remove him from your life, and honestly? You didn’t want to.

...

Your last guest left at exactly 2:09 AM, you made sure to see them into an Uber and stood on your porch until you saw them turn the corner. Hugging your cardigan, still unused to the way the temperature dropped here in the dresser after sundown you turned and armed the security system in your house.

Albert had already headed upstairs around 1AM, saying he wanted to “check a few emails” and there was a 50/50 chance he was already asleep, suit and all, in the bed you shared. You could hear the way your bare feet padded up the tiled stairs, an echoing reminder of your lack of children. Passing the painting without even a second glance, you entered your room and leaned against the doorway at the sight. Just as you thought. Albert laid face down, snoring away and face still flushed from his drinking. Like a procedure you had grown too used to, you made your way to the bathroom, coming out with an adderall, two tylenols, and a glass of water.

The tylenols and water were for now, as you gently shook your husband- eyelids flickering open and incoherent speech as you nodded along with whatever he was saying. He understood as he gestured towards the water and he sleepily downed the pills with water. Your hands, gentle yet stern, worked to take off as much clothes as possible. A few years ago this would be more erotic, and he would have taken the bait. You would have made love and you both would have fallen asleep in each others’ arms. Maybe it was because you had already been married for nearly a decade- far past the honeymoon phase where it was all sex, all of the time. Maybe it was age. He was well heading into his 50’s, and his stamina simply wasn’t what it used to be. You yourself were not as toned and tight as you used to be either.

“For tomorrow, sweetie.” You whispered, gesturing towards the little pink pill and he nodded before shutting his eyes again. You patted his arm, and you couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming need to cry. Heading into the closet you allowed yourself a few tears to fall, quietly sniffling as you undressed and changed into your silk pajamas. Why are you crying? You asked yourself.

It wasn’t until you slipped into bed, switching off the bedside lamp that you realized.

Shinsou was the only one who had wished you a happy birthday.

[a-lil-perspective]

AHHHHSKSKFNJDJFND YES THATS SO PERFECTLY ACCURATE IN EVERY SINGLE WAY Of course, though, we have to dive into their more chaotic sides of their personalities lol. So we have the soft colors and flow-y dresses for Cyare and the turtlenecks and layers for Auntie, but they're mamied to members of Clone Force 99. They've gotta be a little crazy.

I think one of the defining things about Cyare that made Hunter fall in love with her is that despite having this overarching maternal feeling, she's not afraid to get dirty. The best example of this that I can think of is frogs. Hunter hates them, but having lots of little girls running around means a frog or two is gonna come into the house. Cyare, on the other hand, has no problems with frogs. I mean she's still in these beautiful dresses and white blouses, but she will pick up a muddy frog with one hand and her equally muddy daughter with the other. She doesn't care if her skirt gets dirty, covered in mud, whatever. A frog got in the nouse and she’s going to save her husband who’s on top of the counter from the scary frog.

(Extending off of that as just an afterthought. Cyare has a garden, and everything in their noodle shop is homemade, garden grown, and healthy. Of course that also means their "psychedelic mushroom soup" might literally be psychedelics lol.)

Now to Auntie. Layers are a big part of her outfits period. Lots of jackets and blazers and whatnot, but one thing that sticks in my mind is her wearing a band tee over a turtleneck with a pair of converse. Or ripped jeans with a striped button-up and pencils in her hair. And so many rings. Obviously her very simple and basic wedding ring (for obvious reasons). but also rings with snakes or zodiacs or JUST RINGS TEHEHE! Lots of plaid.

Anyways! Love you Lil

SYDNEY you’re giving me so much life with these holy heck thank you. The serotonin rush I got with this is unreal I love you.

Okay okay this is (once again) perfect and accurate in every way.

Cyare has a bit of combat medicine under her belt AND she worked part-time as a mechanic when she met Hunter so she’s no stranger to the manky, foul, and grimy. Then incorporate motherhood into the mix. Pretty much nothing phases her. Whereas it’s the polar opposite for Hunter, because of his senses. The main attraction the Batchers have to their wives is their versatility, how adaptable and multifaceted and resourceful they are. How they aren’t easily dissuaded and are able to “take charge” —as the Sergeant, Hunter can appreciate this about Cyare. From one leader to another. They make for a strong duo and even stronger family.

Anyway she would LOVE to sit in the garden in her pretty dress with all her babies and play with frogs. Their pure and unbridled joy can be heard all the way to inside the house where Hunter paces and talks himself through a sensory overload. As a soldier he’s acclimated to less-than-favorable conditions but things like fresh mud and slimy smelly frogs and wet grass just set his sensory receptors ablaze and honestly I think probably a lot of us can relate to that. We all have our “squicks.” Cyare is very understanding.

So yeah it’s Cyare to the rescue when a frog leaps jovially into the house from their nearby pond. Yeah Hunter’s on the counter shouting and grumbling but his competence kink is able to fully appreciate his fearless wife ushering the disgusting uninvited guest out with ease. XD

OMG THE NOODLE SHOP MAKES ITS RETURN KFJKFJDJDK

“PSYCHEDELIC MUSHROOMS” I lost it.😂😂

-

A u n t i e.

She always be wearing sneakers/lace-ups/converse and as a notorious sneaker hater, Crosshair is like “why.”

Auntie: I do what I want.

Crosshair: I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.

Her aesthetic is phenomenal. It’s like incredibly bold/dark yet somehow keeps her under the radar. She’s probably got a tat. Probably a piercing or two. All in subtle places.

R I N G S for days. She’s got some pretty cool ones. All gifts, mostly from Crosshair although Tech and Wrecker have pitched in at some point; they know she likes to collect. So she’s got steampunk gears and her favorite gemstone. She’s got a lot of fun designs like a snake or skull (obviously) or a four-leaf clover or ace.

She’ll tell you she has a hands-down favorite.

An onyx gemstone with “Heartfire” engraved in the center that is specifically coded to Auntie, heat-activated based on basal body temperature (thanks Tech) and can only be revealed/read in the light where the words glows a deep red/orange flame. All of her rings are of heavy-duty metals, brass and titanium and gold and durasteel etc, that can come in handy if she ever gets in a bind (physical or financial) because Crosshair is a thoughtful husband.

She’s also got a pair of brass knuckles.

Not from Crosshair okay she used to do a bit of ring fighting but we don’t talk about that—

Crosshair’s reaction the first time he found them was pretty priceless. XD

[benevolentbirdgal]

“Thirteen″ Tips for Writing About Synagogues / Jewish Writing Advice / Advice for Visiting Synagogues

So your story includes a Jew (or two) and you’ve a got a scene in a synagogue. Maybe there’s a bar mitzvah, maybe your gentile protagonist is visiting their partner’s synagogue. Maybe there’s a wedding or a community meeting being held there. For whatever reason, you want a scene in a shul. I’m here as your friendly (virtual) neighborhood Jewish professional to help you not sound like a gentile who thinks a synagogue is just a church with a Star of David instead of a cross. 

Quick note: The are lots of synagogues around the world, with different specific cultural, local, and denominational practices. The Jewish community is made up of roughly 14 million people worldwide with all sorts of backgrounds, practices, life circumstances, and beliefs. I’m just one American Jew, but I’ve had exposure to Jewishness in many forms after living in 3.5 states (at several different population densities/layouts), attending Jewish day school and youth groups, doing Jewish college stuff, and landing a job at a Jewish non-profit. I’m speaking specifically in an American or Americanish context, though some of this will apply elsewhere as well. I’m also writing from the view of Before Times when gatherings and food and human contact was okay.

Bear in mind as well, in this discussion, the sliding scale of traditional observance to secular/liberal observance in modern denominations: Ultraorthodox (strict tradition), Modern Orthodox (Jewish law matters but we live in a modern world), Conservative (no relation to conservative politics, brands itself middle ground Judaism), Reconstructionist (start with Jewish law and then drop/add bits to choose your own adventure), and Reform (true build your own adventure, start at basically zero and incorporate only as you actively choose).

Synagogue = shul = temple. Mikvah (ritual bath) is its own thing and usually not attached to the shul. Jewish cemeteries are also typically nowhere near the shul, because dead bodies are considered impure.   

A Bar/Bat/Bnai Mitzvah is the Jewish coming of age ceremony. Bar (“son”) for boys at 13+, Bat (“daughter”) at 12+, and Bnai (“children”) for multiples (i.e. twins/triplets/siblings) or non-binary kids (although the use of the phrase “Bnai Mitzvah” this way is pretty new). 12/13 is the minimum, 12-14 the norm but very Reform will sometimes allow 11 and anybody above 12/13 can have theirs. Probably a dedicated post for another time. Generally, however, the following will happen: the kid will lead some parts of services, read from and/or carry the Torah, and make a couple of speeches. 

Attire: think Sunday Best (in this case Saturday), not come as you are. Even at very liberal reconstructionist/reform synagogues you wouldn’t show up in jeans and a t-shirt or work overalls. Unless they are seriously disconnected from their culture, your Jewish character is not coming to Saturday morning services in sneakers and jeans (their gentile guest, however, might come too casual and that’d be awkward).  1a. The more traditional the denomination, the more modest the attire. Outside of orthodoxy woman may wear pants, but dresses/skirts are more common. Tights for anything above knee common for Conservative/Reform/Recon, common for even below knee for orthodox shuls. Men will typically be wearing suits or close to it, except in very Reform spaces.  1b. Really, think business casual or nice dinner is the level of dressiness here for regular services. Some minor holidays or smaller events more casual is fine. Social events and classes casual is fine too.  1c. Even in reform synagogues, modesty is a thing. Get to the knee or close to it. No shoulders (this an obsession in many Jewish religious spaces for whatever reason), midriffs, or excessive cleavage (as I imagine to be the norm in most houses of worship). 

Gendered clothing:  3a. Men and boys wear kippahs (alt kippot, yarmulkes) in synagogues, regardless of whether they’re Jewish or not out of respect to the space. Outside of Jewish spaces it’s saying “I’m a Jew” but inside of Jewish spaces it’s saying “I’m a Jew or a gentile dude who respects the Jewish space.”  Outside of very Reform shuls, it’s a major faux pass to be a dude not wearing one.  3b. There are little buckets of loaner kippahs if you don’t bring your own and commemorative kippahs are given away at events (bar mitzvah, weddings). Your Jewish dude character not bringing or grabbing one is basically shouting “I’m new here.”  3c. Women are permitted to wear kippahs, but the adoption of a the traditionally masculine accessory will likely be interpreted by other Jews as LGBTQ+ presentation, intense feminism, and/or intense but nontraditional devoutness. Nobody will clutch their pearls (outside of ultraorthodoxy) but your character is sending a message.  3d. Tefillin are leather boxes and wrappings with prayers inside them that some Jewish men wrap around their arms (no under bar mitzvah or gentiles). Like with the kippah, a woman doing this is sending a message of feminism and/or nontraditional religious fervor.  3e. Additionally, prayer shawls, known as tallit, are encouraged/lightly expected of Jewish males (over 13) but not as much as Kippahs are. It is more common to have a personal set of tallit than tefillin. Blue and white is traditional, but they come in all sorts of fun colors and patterns now. Mine is purple and pink. It is much more common for women to have tallit and carries much fewer implications about their relationship to Judaism than wearing a kippah does.  3f. Married woman usually cover their hair in synagogues. Orthodox women will have wigs or full hair covers, but most Jewish woman will put a token scarf or doily on their head in the synagogue that doesn’t actually cover their hair. The shul will also have a doily loaner bucket. 

Jewish services are long (like 3-4 hours on a Saturday morning), but most people don’t get there until about the 1-1.5 hour mark. Your disconnected Jewish character or their gentile partner might not know that though. 

Although an active and traditional synagogue will have brief prayers three times every day, Torah services thrice a week, holiday programming, and weekly Friday night and Saturday morning services, the latter is the thing your Jewish character is most likely attending on the reg. A typical Saturday morning service will start with Shacharit (morning prayers) at 8:30-9, your genre savvy not-rabbi not-Bnai mitzvah kid Jewish character will get there around 9:30-10:15. 10:15-10:30 is the Torah service, which is followed by additional prayers. Depending on the day of the Jewish year (holidays, first day of new month, special shabbats), they’ll be done by 12:30 or 1 p.m. Usually.  After that is the oneg, a communal meal. Onegs start with wine and challah, and commence with a full meal. No waiting 4-8 hours to have a covered-dish supper after services. The oneg, outside of very, very, very Reform spaces will be kosher meat or kosher dairy. 

To conduct certain prayers (including the mourner’s prayers and the Torah service) you need a Minyan, which at least 10 Jewish “adults” must be present, defined as post Bar/Bat/Bnai Mitzvah. In Conservative/Reform/Recon, men and women are counted equally. In Ultraorthodox women are not counted. In Modern Orthodox it depends on the congregation, and some congregations will hold women’s-only services as well with at least ten “adult” Jewish women present.

In Conservative and Orthodox shuls, very little English is used outside of speeches and sermons. Prayers are in Hebrew, which many Jews can read the script of but not understand. Transliterations are also a thing.  In Reform synagogues, there’s heavy reliance on the lingua franca (usually English in American congregations). Reconstructionist really varies, but is generally more Hebrew-based than Reform. 

We’re a very inquisitive people. If your character is new to the synagogue, there will be lots of questions at the post-services oneg (meal, typically brunch/lunch). Are you new in town? Have you been here before? Where did you come from? Are you related to my friend from there? How was parking? Do you know my cousin? Are you single? What is your mother’s name? What do you think of the oneg - was there enough cream cheese? What summer camp did you go to? Can you read Hebrew? Have you joined?  A disconnected Jew or gentile might find it overwhelming, but many connected Jews who are used to it would be like “home sweet chaos” because it’s OUR chaos. 

In Orthodox synagogues, men and women have separate seating sections. There may be a balcony or back section, or there may be a divider known as a mechitzah in the middle. Children under 12/13 are permitted on either side, but over 12/13 folks have to stay one section or the other. Yes, this is a problem/challenge for trans and nonbinary Jews.  Mechitzahs are not a thing outside of orthodoxy. Some older Conservative synagogues will have women’s sections, but no longer expect or enforce this arrangement.   

Money. Is. Not. Handled. On. Shabbat. Or. Holidays. Especially. Not. In. The. Synagogue. Seriously, nothing says “goy writing Jews” more than a collection plate in shul. No money plate, no checks being passed around, even over calls for money (as opposed to just talking about all the great stuff they do and upcoming projects) are tacky and forbidden on Shabbat. Synagogues rely on donations and dues, and will solicit from members, but don’t outright request money on holidays and Shabbat. 

Outside of Reform and very nontraditional Conservative spaces, no instruments on Shabbat or holidays. No clapping either. Same goes for phones, cameras, and other electronics outside of microphones (which aren’t permitted in Orthodox services either).  11a. In the now-times an increasing number of shuls have set up cameras ahead of time pre-programmed to record, so they don’t have to actively “make fire” which is “work” (this is the relevant commandment/mitzvah) on Shabbat, so services can be live-streamed. 11b. After someone has completed an honor (reading from the Torah, carrying the Torah, opening the ark, etc), the appropriate response is a handshake after and the words “Yasher Koach” (again, Before-Times).

Jewish services involve a lot of movement. Get up, sit down. Look behind you, look in front of you. Twist left, twist right. A disconnected Jew or gentile visitor would be best off just trying to follow along with what an exchange student we had once termed “Jewish choreography.” Some prayers are standing prayers (if able), some are sitting prayers. It’s just how it is, although a handful of prayers have variations on who stands. 

[castlebyersafterdark]

What happens at a second wedding?!?! I feel so naive!!

allow me to enlighten you in the least arrogant way possible lmao!

jokes aside, i did go to two weddings that were split like this. not celebs, regular folk. one was my sibling!

so they were married at a registry office with only a witness for each present (i was one of the witnesses. never have i been more forced to face the fact that im now an adult and must therefore be responsible). then that weekend, they threw a party for all guests. so it was basically like a reception! the best bit of wedding tbh - cake and dancing. they did wear formal gowns etc, though, so it's just ceremonial, but hilariously they drove into the venue themselves in their regular car hahahahaha i loved how nonchalant it was.

and the second one was a lavish outdoor wedding in the back garden of my friends' parents home in the countryside. huge marquee, trees, canopies, wildflower garden, beside a river etc. they had gotten married officially months before but i only heard about that through hear'say on the day, even though i had designed their invites lol! they went through all the motions - aisle, dress, suits, vows, with the officiant being the groom's sister and reading poetry instead of legal marriage vowels. so it was ceremonial.

you asked who is it for - i would argue the couple, to have Their Moment lol. take that as you will, but most guests will be happy to go and partake; it's always lovely to see people you love declare THEIR love (i mean, we know this - it's why we're trapped in byler tumblr lol) as long as it's not too inconvenient or gauche.

and ofc, a party followed, with - you guessed it - cake and dancing (and other vices). i would argue, though, that destination weddings are controversial. re: millie and finn drama, idc that theyre all rich - its the expectation that someone is going to rearrange their life and splash out on coming to your random far flung wedding that always has me side-eyeing.

I guess my hang up is, after having a ceremony, however small, is then after the fact you have a second ceremony? That's the part that I cannot wrap my head around. If it's just a reception-esque thing a different day than the tiny ceremony, or a second reception - I can kind of understand. Another party for a different set of people - sure, I suppose.

It's the redoing the "getting married" part that's like. Ok but, you've already been married? You did the vows, the officiant, said the words... the second ceremony is a repeat, a pretend. You've already done this. So I just cannot fathom doing that twice. Would some walk the aisle twice? You've already declared your piece! How is the emotion the second time? Why?

I guess I've only ever heard of famous people do this so I just have trouble imagining redoing the romantic part of a wedding? Two parties are two parties. Sure. Fine. I guess now having my own wedding on the far horizon - I can't imagine how bizarre doing that twice would be, with the same person. Having the second be a preformance? Our ceremony will be simple, unlike all my siblings' traditional church weddings (they're not all even being invited tbh 😉), but the standard elements will be the same. Exchanging of vows, most importantly. Writing our own. I know I'll be so emotional, and to think some do that twice just for a different group of people?

I don't know. Maybe I'm over thinking it. I romanticize everything. But a wedding IS peak romance, so am I wrong?

[vaultsixtynine]

its kind of hard for me to codify myrrha's Extremely Bad Ritual for tes bc it's much better suited to my fantasy-ish worldbuild at this point but like. imagine a 16 year old very well educated but very sheltered girl is desperate to avoid a 'marriage' (read: basically just being sold off for political favors at that point) to a stranger who she's met twice and a future she never planned on - and now she's poring over her asshole mage father's extremely restricted books, she finds something she thinks can help her, she goes as far in her research as she feasibly can - but she cannot share this with anyone, cannot ask anyone's opinion or guidance. she wants to, she really does, but she is sooooo paranoid that even her friends (who are all her father's indentured servants, again bc he's an asshole) will rat her out because that's how the world works.

ok i'm actually putting a cut in a post for hte first time in years bc i realized this got longer than intended. anyway ummm body horror ig

the ritual is a meditation on pain, and how pain can empower the caster with greater willpower blah blah blah, your only admission fee is a lot of your own blood, turning your body into a ritualized canvas, and swearing fealty to [entity] (in this case i do think molag is the best fit, because this ritual was absolutely a trap, all things considered) - it's meant to take place over months. she doesn't have that much time; she does it in one fucking night and nearly exsanguinates herself. it Works... obliquely. it does indeed cause something to happen, she does talk to the entity, she does communicate her wishes and a deal is struck - she is too young to have a real grasp on what she's doing, here, but she has a chip on one shoulder and desperation on the other.

her blood payment was rich with suffering and would serve nicely, but power wasn't really the problem here - the suitor was. wouldn't it be better if he was out of the picture? what if [entity] took care of him for you? she agrees, half-unconsciously, because she assumes this entity would take care of it for her without any further action on her part. i tells her more payment would be required later, when she was in a better state, and next thing she knows she is waking up from her bed like the whole thing was just a bad dream. there's no blood, no wounds in her skin, nothing that would indicate the hours-long ritual that nearly killed her the night before.

she's dressed up and made presentable for the wedding, half delirious with joy that her problem is solved - any moment now, someone will come and tell the terrible news that he's dropped dead - and then half-stricken with terror that the entity's end of the deal is not being upheld as the hours tick down towards the ceremony. the music swells, the doors open, the bastard is standing there waiting for her, and all her fear and desperation and anger and hatred broils to the surface and whatever glamour was cast to hide her actions is broken - blood is seeping through the white wedding dress from every now-visible wound she put in herself, every carved ancient letter (in tes, daedric obvs) in the sacred geometric invocations. something vile and black takes over, heaving up and out from her ribcage, spreading along her limbs with the trails of blood and leaving her changed - she rips him apart with hands that no longer look like her own, rips the priest apart, rips any and all wedding guests apart, rips the servants apart, til her wounds are more filled with their blood than her own.

those who managed to flee are screaming bloody murder outside, and the dawning horror that's washing over her combined with the amount of blood she's now lost means that the haze breaks, she is back in her own body rather than the grotesque, elongated facsimile of it she was in just a moment ago, and she flees, trailing blood into the darkness.

it takes her months to successfully leave the country, and she has to kill at least a few more people before she gets her shit together enough to learn how to avoid people altogether. she's exhausted and weak and terrified, and the ritual wounds she carved into herself just keep bleeding - she has to cauterize them with magic to get them to stop, making their already ugly appearance more exaggerated and permanent. her magic runs out so quickly, now, and she has no idea why - it's like it's all running right out of her, and she can only have and use as much as she can catch in her cupped hands, where before there was a whole lake, undisturbed. she can't sleep - she goes days without it, and passes out for a terrible few hours at a time only to see spindly spectres standing over her when she wakes in fits of sleep paralysis.

eventually, she makes her way to a neighboring country, and lays extremely, extremely low. every inch of her life she claws back is 95% done without her magic, because it's next to useless in those first few years after the ritual. her nightly rest continues to be fucking terrible, and she often remembers fleeting moments after sleep that seem like she's a tourist in someone else's dreams, but she'd rather remember nothing than have the vivid and extremely gruesome nightmares she sometimes has - almost all of which are centered around the wedding night, and what she did. but to her knowledge, she's never become That Thing again, and she's never killed anyone else due to it, so that becomes a weary sort of consolation prize.

then myrrha lives the next decade or so of her life by continuing to pursue knowledge and slowly building up a reputation as an appraiser and restorer of artifacts - for legitimate or illegitimate reasons, she doesn't care as long as she's paid. after about five years or so she starts venturing out on archaeological trips for clients, as well, and eventually does additional ones for her own benefit/interest. her magic is still relatively weak, and seems worse at certain times than others, but she's found no real reason or pattern to it. she learns to store extra magic/energy in mineral specimens and occasionally other objects for her to use later, and that expands her options a bit as far as her magic use goes. it's not foolproof and it's not always convenient, but it's better to have that option instead of completely running out.

she DOES want to solve her problem - she wants to 'fix' herself, rid herself of the deal she's made, but all of her subsequent attempts to contact the being that she made the original deal with have resulted in failure, up to the point that she's almost at the point of giving up by the time her father finds her and yoinks her back to her home country/morrowind.

anyway. dumb bitch but also she's valid. can turn into a super scary monster but has thus far avoided whatever cocktail of triggers that made it happen in the first place, and does Suffer from it, generally, but not in ways she fully understands. she covers her ritual scars as much as she can because she doesn't care to answer questions or be scrutinized, and also because looking at them in Full raises some bitter combination of regret and self-hatred in the back of her throat that takes days to dissipate.