#angular 15

[sigalrm]

Urban grassland by Pascal Volk

[kyprogramming]

29 - Place Order Page | Form (Prisma Transaction)- (Next js 15, React 19, PostgreSQL , Prisma, ShadCN, PayPal, Stripe API integration) In this Session we'll be creating Place Order page (server) and Place Order Form (Client) and save data to the Order and Order Item Table using Prisma Transaction.

[penwingstar]

Day 15. Mushrooms

wanted to try a very angular n bright style for this hehe

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[northopalshore]

Rising signs in the Groom Persona Chart: Their features

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The rising sign in your GPC tells you about your future spouse's appearance, physical attributes and how they present themselves. Picture it like reading their birth chart lol.

୨୧ Please do not repost without consent ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠`⁠ʔฅ🔉

In the signs & degrees:

♰ Aries (1°, 13°, 25°):

Your future spouse could have very angular features, perhaps their eyes could be sharp or very striking. They could have an eager look to them, or they could look like a kid in a way. You could think that they're impatient or they may like to rush things a lot. They could have a great physique or look very hot. They could wear a lot of gym clothes, tight fitting outfits or just athletic wear in general. Either a dork (Maximilian Goof aka Goofy's son lol) or a gym rat.

♰ Taurus (2°, 14°, 26°):

They will dress very comfortably, while still looking extravagant. They could look sophisticated and very, very attractive i.e perfect smile, perfect teeth. They could be taller or heavier than you. They will be very calm, down to earth and put together. They could have a well built physique, and tough body.

♰ Gemini (3°, 15°, 27°):

They could have a slender face, pale skin and a narrow stature. They will look very expressive when they start talking, but have a rather dull resting face lol. They could look rather breezy if that makes sense. Not one to wear anything too fitted. They could have great facial symmetry. Something about their teeth will be very prominent i.e straight or very white.

♰ Cancer (4°, 16°, 28°):

They could have very soft, rounded features. Doe eyes. They could have a slight glow to their face and their eyes. Curvy body, soft lips. They could wear a lot of baggy or vintage looking clothes. They could gain weight quite easily. They will look kind and mellow. They could have a very inviting smile.

♰ Leo (5°, 17°, 29°):

Gorgeous hair, and that face card doesn't decline. They will love dressing in old Hollywood vintage clothing, old money or loud and expensive. They could have very wavy or curly hair that will catch anyone's attention. They also have a slight cocky look to them. They are attractive, and god do they know it.

♰ Virgo (6°, 18°):

They are usually very petite/short and frail looking. They could look compacted but not aggressively so. They will look very clean and polished. There will not be a single speck of dust on them nor will you spot an unironed spot on their clothing. They will love wearing comfortable yet elegant looking clothes. You'll notice they tend to lean on a specific silhouette or colour that they like.

♰ Libra (7°, 19°):

" They have the face of an angel and the body of a greek god" Beautiful. Elegant and gentle. Looking at them will leave you at a daze. They look good and know exactly how to dress for their body. All of their facial features blend in harmoniously, could have a symmetrical face too. Oval faces, bright eyes, pretty smile.

♰ Scorpio (8°, 20):

Usually, they will have very striking eyes. They could have eye bags or just darkened eyes in general. Like virgo, they could love to stare at you lol. Every feature they have will accentuate their eyes. They are very attractive ( s*xually) , everything about them will be sensual and seductive.

♰ Sagittarius (9°, 21°):

There could be a significant size difference between you. They could have very long legs, curly or fluffy hair, and animated facial features. They will look very charming, but goofy in a way. One look at them and you know they're somebody fun to be around. They could laugh a lot and look stoic (contemplating) at times.

♰ Capricorn (10°, 22°):

They could look very cold or uninviting. He could have a very relaxed yet also somewhat stern look on their face even with neutral emotions. They could look very mature, their eyebrows could often be furrowed lol. They could have very prominent bone structures i.e nose, hollow or defined cheek bones. They could look very "boney" in general lol. Very masculine.

♰ Aquarius (11°, 23°):

They could be very tall or slender. Their heads and arms could be quite prominent something about them will catch a lot of stray eyes. They likely have features that are rebellious in nature. They could have odd hairstyles/ colours (especially) or tattoos or piercings. They could dress very.. exotically? Strange? Their fashion style could be quite questionable to say the least but never are they boring to look at.

♰ Pisces (12°, 24°):

They will have very sad, sultry looking eyes that look almost sympathetic 24/7. They will seem like they're not really "there" with you i.e lost in thought or deep contemplation. They will have very rounded features. Their cheeks could look very puffy or rounded when they smile. You could think that they're too good to be true. Their skin could have a greyish undertone, almost like the moon is beneath their skin.

Note: If there are conflicting signs of their appearance for example you have Virgo rising (small, petite) in 2° Taurus (bigger, heavier) then it means your fs is considered large for a virgo i.e.gains weight easily, and are very well built or muscular while still not being overly built (lean).

˚₊‧꒰ა paid readings available ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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*** entertainment only, reader discretion is advised***

Thank you for reading ♡

@northopalshore

@northopalshore groom persona chart 2024 all rights reserved. Disclaimer

[nenoname]

How Stan+Ford+Bill refer to each other

Stan

Ford:

Childhood: Stanley (9)

Teen: Stan (2)

Pre-Portal: Stanley (15), my brother (5), S (2)

Post-Portal: Stanley (33), Stan (13), my brother (7), my hotheaded brother, idiot (2), knucklehead, [Dipper's] uncle Stan, hero, stubborn mullet-haired frostbitten vagabond, wrinkly carnival barker, irresponsible shortcut-loving overgrown child, cheater, fraud, "looks like me if I gave up on life"

Post-Weirdmageddon: Stanley (16), Stan (5), my brother (2), Stanley Pines, hero (2), the man who saved the world, "selfish jerk", the most selfless man I’ve ever met in any dimension

Lost Pages: S (5), Stanley (4), my brother (3)

(S is a pre-portal incident Journal only thing + pre-portal incident Journals only has "Stanley" mentioned in code, tends to call him Stan when talking to the kids)

Bill:

Pre-Weirdmageddon: Stan Pines, Stan (6), old man, [D+M's] uncle, you idiot, Stanley

Post-Weirdmageddon: Stanley (7), Stan (10), Stanley Pines (2), fat grandpa, fumbling idiot con man, weaker copy of Sixer, Bootleg Sixer, mouth breathing carnival barker, gambler, lifelong loser, goofus, PTSD Barnum, side character, co-dependent, stupid, tacky, smug, unworthy, resume-inflating cheap trick loving past-denying overgrown child, pathetic excuse for a 5-sensed three-dimensional one-life spanned skin puppet, carbon-copy of a better genetic duplicate, conman clown, Lucky Stan

Non-canon shorts/Reddit AMA/That cut perpetual machine nightmare: Stan, Stanley, Stan Pines, slick

Lost Pages: inferior clone, brother (when pretending to be Ford)

(Most of the post-Weirdmageddon Stan mentions are for the "fun" facts in the Wheel of Shame, Bill spends the How not to Draw short never directly acknowledging Stan which I find hilarious)

Ford

Stan:

Childhood: Sixer (5), Stanford, Ford, Poindexter, bro, buddy

Teen: Sixer, Stanford (2), nerd robot

Pre-Portal: Stanford (5), pal, you jerk

Post-Portal: Stanford (3), Ford (8), Poindexter (2), my brother (11), brother, bro, the Author of the Journals, you ungrateful-, my nerdy twin brother, my dumb brother, know-it-all, dangerous-know-it-all, world's nerdiest old man, show-off, that jerk, stuck up son of a gun

Post-Weirdmageddon: Sixer (5), Ford (3), my brother (5), Stanford, Fordsy, bro, my nerdy bro, Brainiac, Mr Goody Nerd-Shoes

(Tends to use "Stanford" when shit's serious, yes i'm including the two getting traumatised by thrist comments clip come and stop me)

Bill:

Pre-betrayal: Sixer (2), Stanford, smart guy, Stanford Pines

Post-betrayal: Sixer (5), Stanford (2), Ford (4), Stanford Filbrick Pines, Stanford Pines, ol' Six-Fingers (2), Fordsy (2), my old pal, IQ, Mr Brainiac, Brainiac (2), [Mabel's] uncle, our friend, old man, kid, tough guy, pal, Mr Serious

Post-Weirdmageddon: Sixer (20), Ford (7), Fordsy (2), drama queen, fella, sad nerd, genius, idiot, partner, Mr Tabletop Gaming, backstabber, gallant, perfect pawn, pet human

Lost Pages: Sixer (7), Fordsy, Slick, pal, my old pal, my property

Bill

Stan:

Pre-Weirdmageddon: Bill (3), all-powerful space demon, you one-eyed demon, wise-guy

Post-Weirdmageddon: Bill (3), Bill Cipher, little wise guy, Pointy, jerk of the week, narc

Non-canon shorts/That cut perpetual machine nightmare: you creepy triangle, guy (3), nacho, cop

Ford:

Pre-betrayal: My Muse (19), a strange being from a higher plane, being (3), strange whimsical creature, true friend, Bill (2, however!! this is from Dreamscaperers long before J3 was properly written)

Post-betrayal: Bill (default way of referring to him), My "muse" (3) Bill Cipher (10), Cipher (10), the demon (2), my enemy (3), you insane three sided--, The Beast with Just One Eye, the devil, liar, monster, angular psychopath, nightmare in disguise, king of nightmares, the Triangle, a has-been, a needy theater kid

Lost Pages: Bill (17), my Muse (11), Cipher (18) , Bill Cipher (2), extradimensional deity of knowledge, Cill Bipher, this Bill guy

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 32. uno reverse

chapter tags/warnings: aftercare. mentions of cum and creampies. other sexual content. nicknames. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.

word count: 3.9k

notes: the last chapter was 97% smut. oops. plot? literally, what plot? well, here is the plot. also, happy new year's eve and new years! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

With sweat stuck onto your forehead and spit plastered across your chin, you panted like an overheated dog. Such were the consequences of dealing with too many hands, cocks, and men.

After the sinful fiasco with your sex therapists, your body quivered from exhaustion.

Not to mention, you had been stuffed.

Holding in a potent cum concoction within your womb, you did your best to keep the fluids in, but the sheer volume forced a slow dribble to slide down your plush inner thighs.

You winced from the unwelcome cool against your warm skin, feeling flustered, frazzled, and disheveled.

Sukuna thumbed the dried tears that streaked your cheeks, Geto carded his hand through your hair, and Choso massaged the sore spots on your soft ass, all cooing about how you’ve been an angel for them and that maybe…you all should find time to do this again.

When the three dressed themselves and stepped out eventually for a cigarette, they left you looking at your window reflection, in which you noticed how makeup smudged across your cheeks and how fluids coated your neck and chest.

Never had you felt this...deranged.

Yet, absolutely nothing could be compared to the hot mess that was the Toji Fushiguro whom you straddled.

The man lolled his head back with a low groan and ran his thick fingers through his scalp. His dark strands had become drenched in perspiration and clung to his face's rugged planes. Blistering in his formal attire, he tossed his charcoal blazer aside, undid his knotted tie, and stripped off his button-down. His chest, dusted in a healthy pink shade, heaved. After his pleasure, he still looked like a Greek god in his shame.

Despite all your egregious encounters with him, you still flushed when seeing his bare-chested body. His formalwear might be different from his usual black T-shirt and white lab coat, but he hadn't really changed. He was still fit and subtly edgy with the designs that swirled around his chiseled upper body.

Amid the tattooed tapestry, your gaze once again became drawn by the inked phoenix that rose victoriously from ashes, a symbol that seemed like a parallel to Toji himself. Resilient. Indestructible. Enduring. Both confronting and overcoming challenges, standing stronger and more determined despite their struggles. Each feather branded across his torso held wordless stories about not only his triumphs but also his scars.

“Princess likes what she sees?”

Toji's sudden interjection surprised you. Fuck, he's caught me staring.

After you ogled at his body for too long, the man had naturally taken note, and—with you, of course—he simply had to tease.

"Your tattoos suit you," you had been forced to admit. Not that you lied.

In response, his green eyes held a gentle glister that contrasted with his animalistic actions mere moments ago. "That’s cute. Thank you."

He reached over your shoulder for a tissue and dabbed at your collarbone.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning you up," answered Toji promptly. With the napkin, he soaked up sins, wiping away at the unholy mixture between sweat, spit, and semen as though they never tainted your perfect body in the first place. "That's the least I can do."

He worked in silence, slightly hunched in his seat, the scattered light from the above chandelier casting sharp shadows over his angular face. Wisps of jet-black hair framed his temples as he hung his head in focus, his breathing turning steady. Toji looked so normal, like he wasn't some sex therapist or some important corporate executive or an heir to a multi-billion fortune.

In this one, singular moment, Toji was just...Toji.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked suddenly.

"Doing what?" Mistakenly, he assumed you referred to how he sought another napkin, this time to wipe at the trickle that ran like white lava down your thighs. “We made a mess."

"No, not that. Why did you become my therapist?" Of course, you did not forget your first encounter with Dr. Fushiguro, particularly how Toji ripped your new patient form to literal shreds the moment he noticed your last name. “You could've kicked me out of your office that day and left me miserable, but you didn't. Why?"

He slowed in his motions and his hot breath skimmed over your upper lip.

Then, he smiled faintly. "Can I abstain?"

This was his hint that the answer wouldn’t be something you liked.

"No." You still wanted to know. "Tell me, please."

Despite your reassurance, he seemed reluctant, his jaw working as he trapped his tongue piercing between his teeth.

"Because you were too…innocent," Toji eventually admitted. He sounded earnest, but he gave you a cautious glance like he wanted to gauge your reaction. "A pretty lady coming to see Toji Fushiguro because his little cousin Naoya Zenin couldn't please you properly? Clearly, you've never had a proper fuck. I wanted to completely ruin you, baby. I wanted to use you. And, shit, that pussy made me want to keep you for myself forever. Sure, I also had a two-timing ex, but who cares about my little cousin's mistress when I had his wife in front of me?"

Even though you braced for a brutally honest response, hearing his words firsthand stung.

Yes, you were naïve back then. However, to hear your closest confidant admit his initial, manipulative motives jabbed at your sensitive heart.

From your husband to your therapist, you were constantly a pawn on another person's chessboard. Yet, the worst part was that you didn't notice the game until much later.

"I am sorry," Toji started again. Perceptive as usual, he noticed how your mood suddenly soured. "I had all these shitty intentions because Naoya fucked me over, so I wanted to take my anger out on you. But, when I realized that you’re just an oblivious puppet in his play, I wanted him to realize that he was mistreating you, and," one long exhale, "most importantly, I truly did want to help you."

Mulling over his words carefully, you sank your face into his shoulder. "Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

“No, I am being honest," and the dark green in his eyes reflected that. "I didn't expect to ever see you again after our first session. Thought you got scared off for good until you called me to book another appointment. Honestly, at that point, people suspected you to be Naoya’s lap-bitch and spy. Hope that explains the shitty attitudes from the other therapists and my son." Toji flicked the dirty tissue into the wastebasket. "I defended you, though, if that means anything. I thought you were nice and entertaining and, as I've pointed out numerous times, that you deserved better. What I didn't think was how I would end up bringing you into," and he motioned around with his head, "all of this.”

Breathing in slowly, you took in the man's heavy bergamot scent and allowed his warmth to anchor you.

“So, how do you plan to use me now?”

Among your incessant inquiries, this question must be the most pointed.

Toji, realizing this, gazed ahead. Momentarily, you wondered where his thoughts had wandered off to this time, his focus on the ceiling sharpening for a moment before he reverted his attention back.

"There is no plan to ‘use’ you, sweetheart. Because you mean a lot to me," he still responded with great conviction. "You are cherished."

Beneath the rough edges in his features laid a softness—a softness that you started to become familiar with—as he brought his hands to your hip.

“Live a happy life without Naoya," he added eventually. "You don't need me and the other therapists anymore. Only brokenhearted and anguished people are our clients, so forgetting about us should be easy."

Was it wrong to feel even more hurt when you heard that?

Literally one moment ago, Toji was telling you how much you meant to him. Now, he was telling you to go?

"Client or not, I thought we were friends. You even told me once that I'm somebody special."

“You are," he responded matter-of-factly. "You are very special. Which is why I am not going to force you to hang around or anything. That way you don’t think anyone is ‘using’ you. You're young and capable, and I want you to live your life as you wish.” Then, his voice became uncharacteristically soft. “Because I care about you.”

As nonchalant as he tried to come off, Toji also sounded so...broken.

Plenty of people—plenty of women—came in and out of Toji's life. Megumi had said so himself, admitting that his father used to 'sleep around a bunch' after his biological mother passed.

Since then, Toji had probably gotten used to how the women he encountered only wanted him for his name, his wallet, or—yes, to put things bluntly—his dick. Tsumiki's mom would be the best and most recent example.

But, you wanted to heal Toji as much as Toji had healed you.

"There's something Megumi told me the first time I stayed over at your apartment," you began suddenly.

Toji arched a brow, the tendons by his neck taut. "Is that so?" Knowing his angsty son, he sounded curious but moreso concerned. "Like what?"

'Are you going to marry my dad?'

No, you would die from embarrassment before you could admit that.

"Megumi told me about what happened to his mom, your first wife."

"Ah." Beneath you, Toji tensed up. His tongue darted over his scar like he wanted to continue, but no words came out.

So, he stopped and waited for you to continue.

"I...am really sorry to hear about what happened to her."

In the end, Toji tilted his head, a small but obviously sad smile playing on his lips.

"That's years ago." He tried to sound like losing his first wife in a freak accident didn't haunt him anymore, but you knew that the catastrophe still did.

"Well, Megumi also told me about what your relationships with other women were like since then," you resumed. "Particularly about your second wife."

This time, you truly stumped him. "I see."

"Unlike her, I am not going anywhere," you asserted and tightened your hold around him. "No one is forcing that decision upon me, either. Since you want me to 'live my life as I wish,' my wish is for us to be friends for a long time...and for the same reasons friends want to be friends."

"Is that genuinely what you want?"

"Yes. Truly."

Whether due to your common backgrounds in the Japanese aristocracy or the juxtaposition he offered to your ex-husband, Toji had become your haven. He grounded you after your emotional tumbles and uplifted you with compliments and praise—like an anchor, an unyielding outlet with whom you could share your pains and transform your frustrations into something lesser.

Whenever you had needed him most, Toji had been there.

Always there.

Consequently, you hoped to be the same for him.

When Toji cupped your jaw with a large hand, you slowly pressed your cheek into his palm.

“You care a lot about others but forget to think about yourself,” you went on, criticizing him in a light tone. There was also a question that you had been meaning to ask. “Like, why did you agree to take on the CEO position again after experiencing the Zenin family and your past?”

His fingers flexed slightly into your skin.

“My decision is not about the people who wronged me, but rather the people who depend on me,” he clarified after a beat, his voice lowered like he confided in himself as much as in you. “I look at Mai and Maki, who’ve been treated like garbage their entire lives. I think about Megumi and Tsumiki, who deserve a world with the best opportunities. For them and for others, I want to create a future with something better. ”

Which reminds you.

For the therapists, taking on renewed roles within the Zenin Corporation would be concerning given that they have previously faced accusations of neglecting the business in favor of their own pursuits.

“What will happen to sex therapy?”

Naoya Zenin returned to his apartment lobby tossed (yes, tossed) following a blindfolded car ride home.

To some degree, he wished he hadn’t come back at all since—after retrieving his phone and searching the Internet—he discovered a new reality where media spokespeople, online netizens, and business leaders welcomed his cousin’s return to leadership while denouncing his own.

It was like the universe had been waiting to have Naoya reckon with his misconducts all at once, for he never fully understood the consequences of his sins until his face appeared over news websites, tabloid front pages, and social media feeds.

Even when he had business to attend to the following day, he could hardly push past his apartment entrance without being swarmed by meddlers who somehow had gotten intel on his address. Naturally, many people wanted to hear directly from the businessman who had fallen from grace, especially when the company he once led was one of the largest market players in the Asia-Pacific region. First came the paparazzi, the blinding white flashes from their cameras all seeking to capture his face. Then came the other onlookers, jeering with many insults his way.

‘A scumbag is what you are. A disgusting cheater!’ ‘You don't even deserve a penny of your net worth!” ‘Your company, colleagues, and family deserved better!’ 'Someone like Toji Fushiguro!'

The moment Naoya reached the backseat of his sedan, he smashed his phone in one savage blow, startling the chauffeur as the gadget's screen shattered. Didn’t matter. He had the money to replace that by noon anyway.

Meanwhile, with white-gloved hands on the wheel, the driver tried to hide his tremor.

"A-Are you o—"

"To the corporate headquarters," Naoya ordered. "Put your fucking foot on the pedal or the next thing I'll be blowing up is you."

"Yes."

Well, that shut him up.

Thanks to that, Naoya arrived at the Zenin Corporation headquarters in record-breaking time, but he encountered yet another human barrage. People shouted over one another, some even pushing microphones toward his face, as the crowd followed him like a gaggle of geese while he walked into the lobby.

He frowned when his ID badge failed at the security turnstiles, his access removed from the building's security system already. Just two days ago, he held hours-long meetings in the offices above. Now, two days later, he had been deemed an outsider without access to even the company café on the first floor.

He kicked the turnstile (as if that would change anything), and a steely voice interrupted his anger.

"Naoya Zenin, sir," a woman in a security uniform began, "you are no longer with the corporation and are causing a disturbance. Please, leave."

The blonde snapped his badge back into his palm before tucking both hands into the front pockets of his pressed pants. He sauntered forward slowly, making sure that the woman noticed the difference in their height. "No, I won't. I have an appointment."

"Please," she barged in again, unintimidated by his taller frame. Her voice this time was more stern as she glanced over at the nearby swarm. "You're creating a commotion on private property.”

Did he look like he cared? "My family's private property."

"Sir, I—"

"He’s with me." With a third voice joining the conversation, both turned around as no one other than Toji Fushiguro himself walked over. "I invited him for a private meeting. Allow me to escort him."

The antagonism that the security woman had with Naoya vanished completely as she apologized profusely to the older man, and the blonde found her switch in character fucking deplorable and insulting.

After a brief exchange, Toji looked over. “Thank you for arriving on time. I was worried you missed my text since I sent the message very early in the morning. Let me bring you upstairs.”

Despite receiving a smile, Naoya didn’t like the belittling and patronizing tone that made him feel like a child who needed a chaperone or a beggar who needed a savior.

Nonetheless, he followed in tense silence.

When he walked into the designated conference room, Naoya tried to not look surprised to also see his father and your father in the same vicinity as well (although, given that they were the Board Director and the Chief Operating Officer, respectively, that should’ve been expected).

He had to look away from their cold gazes and instead took the seat closest to the door. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

Toji, on the other hand, settled at the head of the table and crossed one leg over his knee. “This meeting is a courtesy​​. One you don’t deserve but here we are. We’ll be brief.” He leaned across the table, sliding over a sleek black folder. “Later today, the Zenin Corporation will hold a press conference to address our organizational and management changes. In this binder are terms for your settlement. We would like you to accept the proposal, leave, and never associate yourself with the Zenin name again.”

When Naoya saw the documents inside, he wanted to laugh right then and there. “This is a shitty offer that practically gives me nothing.”

What else did you expect? Toji’s unwavering expression seemed to say.

He even opened his mouth to speak, but a much coarser voice spoke first.

"Because you did that to yourself,” Naobito explained. “As of now, your actions have stripped you of everything and you’re still scoffing at someone else’s generosity? You’re a selfish manipulator who has jeopardized our stakeholders’ trust. Our family name will not tolerate your presence moving forward!"

"Listen, Father—"

"Mr. Zenin to you!"

Naoya could not believe he was related to the much older man in front of him. Except for their common features, the duo shared absolutely nothing including warmth for each other.

Which, to the blonde, was ridiculous. Because how could his parent not view the situation from his lens? No one understood the struggles that tormented him since his childhood and the reasons his anguish turned into greed.

"This isn’t fair.” Naoya’s voice rose, trembling with barely contained anger as he shoved the folder away. “I can’t understand you, Fa—Mr. Zenin. Why? Why does everything that Toji touches turn to gold in your eyes? The world welcomes him back like he’s a prodigy, and you hand him everything on a silver platter. But then, why can’t you defend your one and only son in a situation like this? Anything…anything I do, to you, is not enough.”

With his chest heaving, Naoya had to pause and catch his breath. He didn’t want to admit that he was on the verge of another outburst, only to be met with no sympathy in return.

"You and Toji have never been in the same position. Not now, not before, and not ever.” As the Chairman made himself clear, his voice cut through his son’s rant like a blade. “While no one is perfect, Toji—in the past and present—earns respect by owning his failures and proving his worth. Due to his team’s work in the last twenty-four hours, he stabilized the company, helping us avoid an immense drop in our market value and cancellations from our business partners.” In addition to his utter disregard for his son’s feelings, Naobito even mocked him with a scoff. “Meanwhile, you don’t play by the rules, boy. You exploit them to suit your needs, and when something backfires, you blame everyone but yourself. Toji didn’t come back because I handed him anything. He came back because he knows how to make amends.”

Stop.

Naoya wanted this mental torture to come to a fucking stop.

His father’s scorn was bad enough, but the comparison to Toji—always Toji—was like salt ground into an open wound. What made the situation a hundred times more humiliating was how his older cousin sat across the table with a nearly indiscernible smirk on his face.

Yet, what could he realistically do when the Chairman went on?

“In my entire life, I only requested from you one thing,” Naobito added. ‘Power and money did not interest him when compared to his daughter, so the one promise I made is that you would love her.’ “And what did you do?”

Precisely not that.

The pointed change in topic made Daisuke L/N sit forward uncomfortably.

"Be honest with us, Naoya," he said. "Aside from marrying my daughter to legitimize your position in your family and company, what other intentions did you have?"

The man stared ahead with a solemn expression because, in that moment, he wasn’t the Zenin Corporation’s Chief Operating Officer but merely a father.

A father who had been promised a dependable and loving son-in-law, not a cruel and ruthless deceiver.

Naoya shrugged.

"My original plan was to have your daughter for as long as I deemed her useful. Maybe until my old man kicked the bucket and I became the head of the Zenin household? Or, if I liked her enough, maybe longer? I don't know, not that I really cared." Naoya didn't give a shit that he sounded like a total sociopath. As a grown man, he could make his choices in speech. "But, what I did care about is how people only noticed me when I had that…that—"

At that, Toji had to cut him off. “You’ve said enough. We’re done here.”

“I’m not finished.”

“Yes, you are. As I mentioned earlier, this meeting is only a courtesy.”

Toji rose from his seat and adjusted his blazer, the other executives doing the same but with pursed frowns. When the Chairman and the COO left quickly in silent rage, Toji followed them and gestured toward the black folder again on his way out.

"Anyway, all the legal documents are in there. Can read through them, if you care. You have the next hour to inform my secretary of your decision. My advice is to accept our offer since no legitimate company in the Asia-Pacific—or anywhere else in the world—will want you now. You ensured that for yourself."

Toji walked to the exit in precise and confident strides, but just before disappearing into the halls, he paused.

"Oh, but one last request.” Except what he said next wasn’t a request, but a demand. “Never show yourself to us or anyone we care about again. Take this as a warning."

Then, the door clicked shut.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Naoya stood up.

“God fucking damnnit!” he hollered at the top of his lungs like a mad maniac. His hand shot out, sweeping the papers off the table violently, sending them scattering across the floor.

He hissed and seethed. How he hated this feeling. His current ordeal had been his wake-up call to realize that merely being born into status didn't mean he would be invincible.

If only he hadn’t let his unchecked arrogance blind him, then his life trajectory would have played out differently!

…Or maybe nothing would’ve changed at all.

Because perhaps, all these years, Naoya Zenin had been trying to grasp onto something that was never meant to be his.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: This is my final update for the year, and the next chapter will be the final chapter for this entire fic. I'll save my sentimental notes for later because I don't want to get sappy, but I wish everyone love, hugs, and good health forever and ever! Side note: I am very bad at updating the below taglist, sorry!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @sakuraryomen01 @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzuruu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[piscesmerc26]

Short Astrology Observations. 🤎

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

(2 things. Thank you for 400 followers🤎 I appreciate all the support and love AND I haven't posted in a long time, im really trying to get back into posting astrology. Doing this post for enjoyment and as just a bit of a warmup to get myself back into posting again but for now, I hope you enjoy🤎)

🍂 • Having your Sun in Aries/Leo in the 12H can create an internal conflict on the native on how they are perceived by the community. The sun shines naturally in these signs but in the 12H, it can be dimmed, creating a conflicting image on the individual.

🍂• Leo Suns are easiest to notice, they not only have a bright personality but they exude a certain gracefulness and elegance. I notice they have a golden glow to them.

🍂 • Having an Air moon (Gemini, Libra, or Aquarius) at a Scorpio degree (8°, 20°) definitely creates a stoic and mysterious personality, unless other aspects/influence say otherwise. In addition, these people hide their emotions often, they remind me of the "🫥😶" emojis. These individuals also have a great amount of self taught self-control.

🍂 • Having Part of Fortune in 3H/9H or at degrees 3°, 15°, 27° make the individual a born influencer. these people gain the most from using their voice and sharing unconventional ideas.

🍂 • Uranus-Midheaven aspects create individuals who are innovative. Not just in their ideas but how they go about certain situations, they tend to do things the way they see fit for themselves rather than go with what other says they should do. These people are the type to have different pathways in life than most around them, they may pick a job that non-traditional or delve into the science field.

🍂 • Individuals may aspire to or already act more like the sign in their 3rd house. They may possess the traits of the sign in the house, it's how they communicate and how people close to them may view them as.

🍂 • Having Personal Sagittarius placements makes someone naturally charming, something about Sagittarius placements makes the individual witty and exciting to be around, they have a way of joking and talking that makes people around them hooked on them.

🍂 • Individuals with Personal 8H/Scorpio placements tend to easily attract people who hate them at first and will try to upset them, but literally a week later they'll be all up in their face. Bonus points if the individual has placements in angular houses (1H, 4H, 7H, 10H), or in fire signs.

🍂 • Regulus aspecting Sun/MC or Ascendant is a fame aspect. Especially if the aspect is applying. These people may have fame related to their occupation or their image/looks. Effortless fame.

🍂 • Having A mix or Scorpio/Pisces and 12H/8H placements make you a transformation magnet, it's likely these individuals are always changing, when they leave for a long time and return they never come back the same people.

🍂 • Sun/Saturn-Pluto aspects may indicate struggles with a father figure. Moon-Pluto aspects may indicate struggles with a mother figure. These struggles may consist of distance or just a transformative/impactful effect on the individual.

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

That is all for now, have a lovely day.

- J.

[alessiasfreckles]

amnesia (ona batlle x reader)

You wake up in the hospital with no memory of who you are or anything about your life, but a pretty brunette is by your bedside, so it can't be all bad, right?

warnings: memory loss, car accident mention, hospital

a/n: part 2 here!

----------

“She’s awake!”

Squinting against the harsh light, you slowly opened your eyes, taking in your surroundings. You were lying in bed in a room with white and grey walls and bright overhead lights. The bedsheet covering you was soft against your hands.

You blinked, looking around the room. Four people were stood around you, a woman in a white coat, a man in light blue scrubs, and two young women in everyday clothes. The two women looked on the verge of tears, but you weren’t sure why.

Opening your mouth to speak, you gagged as you realised your throat was obstructed by something. The realisation quickly turned to panic, feeling like you were being choked, unable to breathe. One of the younger women turned to the woman in white, who you were pretty sure was a doctor, and spoke rapidly in a language you couldn’t understand. 

The doctor and the man, who you decided was probably a nurse, quickly worked to remove the tube from your throat. Eyes watering, you coughed and rubbed your throat, glad to be free of it. When you opened your mouth to speak again, the doctor interrupted you gently.

“Careful,” she said. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“Wh- where am I?” you asked. Your voice was hoarse, and your tongue felt like sandpaper. “Is this a hospital?”

The two women exchanged anxious glances.

“Yes, this is the Hospital de Barcelona,” the doctor told you. Barcelona, huh. That explained her accent. “Do you remember why you’re here?”

You frowned, shaking your head. Now that she mentioned it, you had no idea what you were doing there.

“That’s okay. It’s perfectly normal not to remember much. You were in an accident. You were hit by a car. Miraculously, you only broke some bones in your right leg, but you hit your head pretty hard. You’ve been in a coma since the accident, 15 days ago.”

Your mind raced as you took in the information. Why couldn’t you remember any of it? Why couldn’t you remember anything? Not even-

“Now, can you tell me your name?” the doctor asked, interrupting your stream of thought.

Not even your name. 

“I- I don’t know, I don’t know my name, why don’t I remember my name?” you asked frantically. You tried to sit up but stopped as a wave of pain radiated throughout your body, crashing over you. One of the women reached out, putting a hand on your shoulder. 

The doctor stayed for a while, explaining to you again and again what had happened. You’d been hit by a car. You’d hit your head. You’d been in a coma for the past 15 days. You’d been hit by a car. You’d hit your head. You’d been in a coma for the past 15 days. Over and over again, until it sunk in. 

She spoke to the two women before she left, again in a language you didn’t understand, the two glancing over at you with worried faces, the doctor’s face reassuring and kind. Once she was gone, the two women came over to your bedside. Tears brimmed in their eyes, but they were both trying to smile at you.

“Hola, mija,” one of the women said. She had blonde hair with dark roots and kind eyes, but she looked tired. 

“Do- do you remember me? Us?” the other woman asked, gesturing to herself and the blonde. Her hair was darker, and freckles were scattered across her nose and cheeks. Your eyes raked over her sharp jawbones, her angular face. Surely you would know if you’d met someone like her before.

You shook your head slowly. 

The brunette swallowed back a sob, the blonde holding her arm tightly. 

“It’s okay, that’s okay,” the blonde said. “The doctor said there was a high chance of this happening. That she wouldn’t remember us. It’s okay.”

“Who are you?” you asked, voice quiet.

“I’m Ona. I’m, uh, we play together,” the brunette told you, and the blonde looked at her sharply for just a second before looking back at you.

“And I’m Alexia. Your teammate and friend.”

Playing together? Teammate?

“Football!” you blurted out suddenly. You’re not sure how you knew, but you had this deep, innate sense that football is important to you. More than important, it’s your whole life. “I play football, right?”

The blonde, Alexia, let out a laugh of relief. “Si! You play football! We all play together, here in Barcelona.”

She squeezed Ona’s arm, who smiled tearfully. 

“So, I’m guessing we’re all pretty close, right? Surely there’s a reason you’re here,” you said bluntly, wincing at the pain in your head.

“We’re your best friends,” Ona said quickly, before Alexia could open her mouth.

“That’s… right,” Alexia said slowly. “I’m the capitana of our team, and we’re best friends. And you and Ona are also… best friends.”

You nodded, feeling exhausted suddenly. “Thank you both for being here, then. I think I’m going to sleep now, if that’s okay?”

“Of course!” Ona said, jumping up. “We’ll be here when you wake up, okay?”

You were asleep before the two had even left the room. Once they were in the hallway, the door to your private hospital room shut, Alexia turned to face Ona.

“What was that?” Alexia asked her, voice hushed, as though you’d be able to hear them through the door.

“What do you mean?” Ona shifted uncomfortably, not meeting the blonde’s eyes.

“Why did you tell her you’re just friends? Why didn’t you tell her that you’re dating?!”

[apod]

2025 June 15

Two Worlds, One Sun Left Image Credit & Copyright: Damia Bouic; Right Image Credit: NASA, JPL-Caltech, MSSS; Digital processing: Damia Bouic

Explanation: How different does sunset appear from Mars than from Earth? For comparison, two images of our common star were taken at sunset, one from Earth and one from Mars. These images were scaled to have the same angular width and are featured here side-by-side. A quick inspection will reveal that the Sun appears slightly smaller from Mars than from Earth. This makes sense since Mars is 50% further from the Sun than Earth. More striking, perhaps, is that the Martian sunset is noticeably bluer near the Sun than the typically orange colors near the setting Sun from Earth. The reason for the blue hues from Mars is not fully understood, but thought to be related to forward scattering properties of Martian dust. The terrestrial sunset was taken in 2012 March from Marseille, France, while the Martian sunset was captured in 2015 by NASA's robotic Curiosity rover from Gale crater on Mars.

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap250615.html

[dumbmusclehypnojockboy]

Audition

Author's note: @transform4u requested a story, so this one's for him. This is kind of a departure fore me. It's mostly done in first person, which I don't usually do. I hope you enjoy it.

“I wish I didn’t have to remember all these lines,” the words came out as a whisper.  A soft breeze blew in the theater.  “Granted,” it seems to say in the wind that chilled you to the bone.  The words on the script faded away, being replaced with a signed contract with a television company.  Something about documenting your life for the next few months.  Leaving your home and going to a time-share with some other people.  You look at the paperwork confused.  A buzz infiltrating your brain. 

“Rocko”, the director calls me.  I’m confused.  Isn’t my name Richard?  “Rocko Salvatori?  On stage please.”  He looks at me and I head up to the stage for an audition? 

The director looks at me and asks, “Hello, Rocko.  Your resume says your favorite hobby is working out?  Can you tell me about that?”

“Working out?  No, I mean,” images of the time I’ve spent in the gym, dedicating time and sweat and tears to making my pecs and bis grow.  Never skipping leg day.  Always taking creatine mixed with pre workout, downing protein shakes and doing endless crunches...  Gotta take care of the “situation”. 

“Yeah,” I say.  “I go to the gym five days a week.  Can you tell?” 

I flex a bicep that seems to grow out of nowhere.  Ten inches around turns in to 12 inches, turns in to 15 inches, turns in to 20 inches.  I flex my pecs.  Since when do I flex my pecs, I ask myself?  My pecs inflate with newfound muscle.  Growing to a whopping 50 inches around. 

I find my body stretching taller…  legs more so resembling long logs, stretching to the sky, torso stretching out, getting rid of the pudge that used to be there, and developing in to 8 separate rocks, an 8-pack of abs. 

My dick growing longer and longer now resembling a beer bottle in length and girth.  “Fuck yeah, I work out, bro,”  I say. 

The director asks, “I also see that you’ve done some modeling?”

Images of past gigs fill my memory.  That time I was flown down to Cancun to appear on a show for MTV Spring Break.  That photo shoot for a young adult clothing brand.  That one time he posed for Exercise for Men Only.  “Yeah, bro,” you find yourself saying.  “I aced modeling.”  Your face reshapens.  Jawline becoming sharper.  Cheeks becoming  accented, less round, more angular.  Eye brows becoming shaped, more perfect.  Teeth whitening, glowing, straightening.  Eyes becoming more clear, turning from blue to a sharp glowing brown.  Stuble growing around your chin and mouth area.  Your thick black hair standing straight up, held up with a precise amount of Spiker hair gel and a 16-second spray of Got 2 B hair shaper and molder.  You give ducklips pose to the director, and bring out your phone to take a selfie and post it on Instagram. 

The director clears his throat.  “Under life philosophy you just wrote GTL.  What does that mean?”

“Bruh,” you say, your brain rearranging information.  Reprogramming your memories, your thoughts, making you a different person. 

“Bruh, it’s a way of life.  A philosophical kind of being.  Gym, Tan Laundry.  You gotta take care of your bod… your pecs, bis, and abs… I like to look fresh, so everything has to go in to it.  You know, you have to go to the gym the whole week.  Tan.  You have to have color if you didn’t go to the beach.  And then the last thing you need to take care of is the outfit.  You gotta look fresh, you know.  If you don’t look good, you ain’t gonna feel good bro, and then you ain’t gonna have a good night.”

 You give in to the words that are coming out of your mouth.   Gym.Tan.Laundry=LIFE, bruh,  Fuck yeah.  Gotta be FTD, Fresh To Death.  Looking for hunnies DTF.  Down To Fuck.  Hell yeah!  The thoughts running through your head.

“Rocko,” the director says, “it says here that you identify as a Guido?  Can you tell me about that?”

The words go through my head.  Guido… Guido…  Fuck Yeah, I’m a fucking Guido.!  I GTL all day and am DTF all night.  I go out FTD, and get all the pussy I want.  I am so Hot, So Fresh.  I’m a fucking Guido.  “I’m a Guido.  What’s there to explain?  I work out, tan and clean up fresh.  I go out and party all night and bring home the PU-NA-NI, you know what I mean?  And I have over three million followers on my social media.”

Red flashes over the director’s eyes, and a demonic façade flashes over the director’s face, just for a second.  “You’ll be perfect for the next generation of our new reality show, Rocko.”

[sigalrm]

One of the many traffic lights for cyclists that forced me to stop by Pascal Volk

[kyprogramming]

6 - PostgreDB and Prisma Setup - Next.Js-15 eCommerce Project (React js , PostgreSQL , Prisma, ShadCN , Paypal , Stripe integration)

5 - Bind Sample Products - Next.Js-15 eCommerce Project (React js , PostgreSQL , Prisma, ShadCN , Paypal , Stripe integration)

4 - Theme & Menu - Next.Js eCommerce Project (React js , PostgreSQL , Prisma, ShadCN , Paypal , Stripe integration)

3 - Project Layout - Next.Js eCommerce Complete Project (React js , PostgreSQL , Prisma, ShadCN , Paypal , Stripe integration)

2 - Environment Setup - Next.Js eCommerce Complete Project (React js , PostgreSQL , Prisma, ShadCN , Paypal , Stripe integration)

1- Introduction - Next.Js eCommerce Complete Project (React js , PostgreSQL , Prisma , ShadCN-UI , Paypal , Stripe integration)

[trapastrology]

12H Synastry Notes

They (Jamie & Landon) are representative of 12H synastry for sure!

The House person is usually the person who "hides" the planet person if any hiding does take place.

The house person is the receiver, and the planet person is the giver. The house person is a reflection of the energy that the planet feels and gives. Planet is the cause & the house is the effect.

Who feels more? Thier usually feeling the same amount. Having a pisces personal plmt or neptune aspecting personal plmts or in the native's angular houses will cause them to feel more intensely.

12H synastry overall is karmic. It's either, after lifetimes of getting it wrong yall are finally getting it right and growing old together in this lifetime or spending lifetimes being toxic and together and finally having to let go.

The planet person will evoke the traits of your 12H which are usually hidden. Libra 12H-become more openly romantic, lovey Dovey and they show that they actually love having someone by their side. Look to the 12H ruler as well. If it's in the 3H, they become more talkative, write poems/songs/sweet messages and likes touching often, hand holding, kissing, hugs, etc.

If there are periods of no contact, it's usually (not always) initiated by the planet person.

In mercury 12H synastry, Mercury helps the 12H person put their feelings into words. As for the mercury person, they are usually good at putting their feelings into words but the roles seem to reverse leaving the merc person not knowing how to put their feelings into words when it comes to the house person.

In venus 12H syn, The venus person is usually going thru some kind of immense hurt and loss, a heartbreak or death when they meet the house person. The house person is usually not looking for a relationship atm.

Venus usually loves all of House persons scars, shortcomings and things they don't like about themselves.

Planet person will always know planet like the back of their hand

To know more in depth about 12H synastry, purchase my $15 ebook about the complete ins and outs of 12H synastry, "Written In The Cosmos". A 30 Page pdf with all there is to know about 12H synastry from a person who's been in mutual 12H synastry, the planet and the house & more! Please support today, It would mean a lot and it would keep me going! I accept payments thru cashapp & apple pay only

[agent-darkfest]

Could we see landscape art of where tale of two jinns sun and moon live and Arabian knights au sun and moon tribal homes before things went downhill?

Oooo, very cool questions, so I haven’t done too much landscape art (mostly cuz I’m pretty bad at it). But I can definitely tell you that besides the temples, the Jinn don’t really have any fixed homes. They are mainly nomadic and travel with tents, most of which fit up to 15 Jinn. They are very communal. The tents, however do differ from each other. The Sun tribe tents are more angular and they like to keep the cloth canvas in tension to provide shade, while they open the tents fully for a breeze to go through them. The Moon tribe tents are more circular and tend to drape, they even bury them slightly to allow the coolness hidden in the sand to seep into the tent.

As for A Tale of Two Jinns, they live in a museum (at least Sun and Moon do). =) Below is a very rough draft, so pardon the mess.

[jjbalice]

Martyr's Folly

Summary: Yunho helps and comforts the reader after they've accidentally cut too deep.

Genre: a hurt/comfort Yunho x reader oneshot

Word count: 4.81k (15-20 mins)

Trigger warnings: semi-descriptive self-harm (blood, cuts, use of blades - nothing too crazy, though, don't worry!), panicking, crying, mentions of relapsing, lots of pet names, nicknames, and physical affection lol, Yunho is a blessing

A/N: This fic is pretty personal since I've been struggling with not feeling valid enough because of the way I SH, which isn't the stereotypical kind you see in movies and such. In a way, it's an attempt at scaring myself from buying any actual blades mixed in with the comfort I crave whenever I slip up, I guess.

Baby cuts. Cat scratches. Damage dealt within the epidermis and the higher half of the dermis. Whatever you want to call it.

For a few weeks now, that's exactly what has been slowly but steadily appearing on your feet and lower calves. Or re-appearing, rather. A bad habit from the past coming back to haunt you all over again for no apparent reason.

No but seriously, what reason for doing this is there? You're happy, you have a stable part-time job on the side of your studies that are also going great, and an incredible boyfriend with whom you've just celebrated a 6-month anniversary. No real issues in your life as far as you can see.

Sure, sometimes you get caught up in a fight with your friends or parents, or even with Yunho, or maybe some of your insecurities hit extra strong on some days. But all of that is normal, right? Just some passing obstacles that get resolved in a few days tops.

So why are you here, at 3 am, staring at the husk of a person in the mirror? Why is your head so empty yet incomprehensibly full at the same time? Why are your hands all fidgety, getting ready to strike any moment?

Truth be told, you have no clue.

This was supposed to be a lovely weekend for you. You got off work early on Friday, securing enough time to pack your stuff at your dorm before heading to Yunho's apartment for a sleepover. He's been trying to convince you to move in with him after your anniversary, saying how it would be both cheaper and closer to your university. Both of those arguments are true, and yet you remain stubborn, wanting to keep your independence for just a bit longer.

Alas, Yunho has no choice but to respect your decision and settle for weekend sleepovers in the meantime.

And even those are great! The two of you get to talk for hours and play games, cook dinner together or order in and watch TV... Mainly, though, you get to cuddle and snuggle to your hearts' content (and maybe even do a bit more than that, if the opportunity and want arises).

That's also one of the main reasons for your hesitance over this whole... relapse thing.

Because of Yunho and his affectionate nature towards you, hiding the traces of your renewed habits became much more difficult. You couldn't cut where you used to before, all of those areas feeling way too exposed now.

And so, you settled on the bottom of your legs. Anything a pair of longer socks could easily hide without too much questioning from your boyfriend. Let's just say your feet are cold all the time now, even though summer's just barely starting to end.

Is it satisfying to harm there? No, not at all. The area is too small and angular, and the pain-to-mark ratio is nowhere near optimal. Everything feels too bony and stings more than other places, and all you get from it are the faintest of scratches.

But anything to at least partially quell the urge, right?

Well, not exactly.

If the razor blade hidden within the confines of your duffel bag was any proof, your methods weren't exactly effective.

You've never used an actual razor blade before, never even planned on trying it since you knew about the dangers of using it and how everything could get out of hand within seconds. Sure, the scissors and other sharp objects you've used until now weren't exactly perfect either, but they didn't put you at as much of a risk of going to the ER.

...So why did you buy the blade then?

Well, it was pretty cheap, first of all. You could just buy it, think about using it, and then throw it out without feeling too guilty about it, right? Not to mention how it helped you feel more valid about harming, even if you haven't used it yet. Self-harm is always depicted as razor blades on wrists, so even just owning one somehow helped you feel a bit more valid amidst the disappointing scratches on your leg.

It's been a week since you've bought said blade (or 5 blades rather, as they came in a pack - what a steal!). During that week, not much has happened to it. Right after you paid and got your receipt, you tossed the paper into a nearby trash can and stashed the pack of blades into your wallet. And there they were even later tonight, as you quietly crept to your bag to retrieve them, careful not to wake Yunho up.

But let's rewind back a bit. Back to where today's misfortune started.

Just like with everything else lately, you don't know why the urge to indulge washed over you specifically tonight. You and Yunho have spent such a fun evening together, lounging around and enjoying each other in whatever way felt right.

And yet, the moment the lights were turned off and your boyfriend spooned you from behind, holding you close while his breathing slowly evened out, it was as if something had shifted in the air. An overwhelming sense of emptiness washed over you, making you feel both completely dull and overstimulated. Yunho's arms around you felt both like an anchor and a vice, the opposing feelings adding even more to the already rising chaos in your mind. You were suddenly overly aware of every part of your body, as if your own skin was calling out to you.

You didn't want to.

You knew you had to.

As gently and quietly as you could, you unwrapped yourself from Yunho's embrace and got up. He let out a soft sigh at the loss of contact, and you had to admit, you already mourned it too.

Sneaking into the bathroom, you closed the door before turning on the lights. Avoiding the reflection in the mirror, you began searching through the cabinet under the sink. You didn't want to see yourself right now. If anything, it would just add to the confusing conflict raging within you, and you really didn't need that.

Rummaging through each shelf one more time, you let out a frustrated huff. There was nothing you could use. Well, save for the expensive-looking razor Yunho owned, but you really didn't have the patience or coherency to take apart your boyfriend's belongings.

It's time, then.

The return to the bedroom was a bit stressful, as you couldn't decide between searching through your duffel bag there or bringing it with you to the bathroom. Both options seemed too noisy right now, causing you to awkwardly loom over the bag for a few moments, chewing nervously on your bottom lip.

In the end, you decided to just risk it, crouching down to begin unzipping the top. Strangely enough, you kind of hoped Yunho would hear it and wake up. Maybe the shock of being caught would stop you for the time being and you could just go back to bed.

To both your luck and dismay, Yunho didn't wake up, his biggest reaction being the slightest stir of the sheets.

With your wallet in hand, you walked back to the bathroom, your steps a bit bolder this time. Now that you knew Yunho wouldn't wake up so easily, you didn't pay as much mind to the noise you were making.

In a weird way, you were upset. Upset he didn't wake up. Upset he didn't magically realize what your new obsession with socks could possibly mean. Upset he wasn't there to stop you right now.

But along with the upset came a strange feeling of calm. Joy, even.

He doesn't know. Nobody has any idea you're doing this right now. Nobody cares enough to find out anyway. You're free to reign over your body as you please, especially if it will finally shut down the confusing mess of emotions boiling within you.

It will, right?

It's 3 am. You're staying over at Yunho's apartment and he's currently sleeping in the bedroom next-door. You finally gather enough courage to look at yourself in the mirror, but it's rather disappointing. The shell standing in front of you doesn't bring up any emotions anymore. It doesn't even look like you, you think. Maybe this isn't you, after all. That's what you like to tell yourself whenever the moment is over, that this isn't actually the real you harming yourself. This is someone else taking hold of you and your upcoming actions.

You sit down on the cold bathroom floor, a razor blade in hand. When did you unpack them? The small paper packaging and 4 other blades are lying right next to you. Huh. Guess you did just now.

You don't bother taking off the socks. A precious thing like this shouldn't be used in such a shitty spot anyways.

Then again, you also don't exactly want to die right now, so the wrists are off-limits. Sure, you want to feel more valid and that place is the most stereotypical one to cut, but you're already holding the blade you thought you'd never dare use, so that's enough "progress" for now.

Now that you think about it, the thighs sound pretty scary too. You've always heard of some major arteries being located in the thigh. Perhaps you shouldn't risk it there then. Not yet, at least.

And so, like a coward, you move back to your lower leg.

To your defense, you do go considerably higher than usual! You pick a nice spot that's vaguely in the middle of the side of your leg, where your shins and calves would meet.

Deep breaths. You can do this. Just brace yourself and-

...

...

Oh fuck.

No, no, no nonono-

You knew the risks, you knew you should watch out for the pressure when using a razor blade for the first time since it's so much sharper than any pair of scissors you own, but somehow even the lessened pressure you put was too much.

Within seconds, blood started flowing to the surface. You dropped the blade, making it fly in a random direction as your hands trembled.

Your eyes welled with tears as, despite the blood, you could see a gash way deeper than any cut you'd ever made until now; you could literally see two parts of your skin split-

You're gonna throw up. Or faint. Or both. Oh fuck.

The first drops of blood fell onto the tiles just as your own tears pooled over. Your chest heaved with your labored breathing. You didn't know what to do.

Should you go to the ER? Will it stop on its own? Should you wake Yunho up? Oh god, you should probably wake Yunho up, shouldn't you.

Wiping your tear-stained face as best as you could with your shirt, you crawled over to the bathroom door. You were too scared to walk, afraid you'd faint if you stood up so suddenly.

As you sat by the door, another sob wracked through you. You couldn't calm down, you were too scared of what might happen if you didn't take care of the gash in time. And yet, you couldn't help but fear what might happen if you woke Yunho up. Now that you think about it, maybe it will just stop on its own and you can hide it for the rest of the weekend and then you'll just make up a story of how you got into an accident at work and-

One look at the trail of blood behind you was enough to get your hands on the door handle, pulling the door open on your second try. The door handle flew back up with a loud bang as you dropped back down, but the door was open at last. You pulled it fully open from where you sat, taking a few shallow breaths once you did so.

"...Y/N?"

Now. Now he wakes up. Not at any point before you could have done this. Now.

In the back of your mind, a strange feeling of anger bubbled up. Somehow, you wanted to blame Yunho for not getting to you sooner. But the second you realized what your brain was trying to do, you felt another pang of nausea hit you.

Yunho was not to blame in the slightest. This is all you. You started this, you went through with it, and now you're crawling back to him for help. Don't even try to put any blame on him, no matter how much easier it would make this whole thing to stomach.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

Right, he was awake. The shuffling of the sheets coming from the bedroom confirmed as much.

You tried to call out to him but choked on another sob instead.

All of your fear of being seriously hurt and needing help immediately shifted, transforming into the most heart-wrenching wave of guilt imaginable. Just what have you done? Why are you burdening someone else with this? Are you really going to make him see this?

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the first footstep. All the raging panic hit you anew, making you speak before you could think.

"W-wait!" You cried, an unknown feeling of desperation clutching your chest. "Please, please don't come here, please."

To your surprise, the footsteps actually stopped.

"...I'm waiting, but please tell me what's going on," Yunho replied with obvious unease.

Well, uh. You haven't exactly thought this far, have you?

"O-okay, I, well, I," you stumbled over your words, trying to work through the mush of your brain to come up with anything even barely comprehensible. "I did something really bad and I think I need your help but you have to promise not to be mad. I don't know what to do but please don't be upset."

Selfish. That's what you were. Even amongst all this chaos and pain you were about to drag Yunho into, all you could think about was saving your own face and evading consequences.

"Y/N, I'm sorry but I'm coming in," Yunho suddenly announced, and the footsteps resumed. "I need to see if you're okay, I promise I won't be mad."

There was no escaping it now. You could only brace yourself for the worst, whatever that would entail.

Two feet stood before your hunched-over form. You didn't dare look up, you didn't dare see what he was feeling.

As carefully as he could, Yunho stepped around you and further into the bathroom. You heard the scraping of metal across tiles before the cabinet doors opened. A towel, a first aid kit, and a medium-sized, colorful box appeared before you, along with your boyfriend in his cozy pajamas. Still, you didn't dare look up.

Wordlessly, he propped your injured leg up as gently as he could, as if he was handling the finest china in the world. Placing the dark grey towel under it, blood immediately rolled down and seeped into the material.

"Okay, this might seem a bit weird, but just- I'm not an expert or anything, far from it, really, but-"

As Yunho rambled nervously, you watched his hands tear open a pack of pads. Ever since your sleepovers became a more regular thing, he'd made sure to keep some in his apartment at all times in case of an emergency. Never had he thought he'd use them in this type of emergency, though.

You watched in confusion as he pulled out one of the pads, opening it and double-checking which side was sticky and which was dry. Unable to hide his worried grimace as he got closer to the wound, he pressed the cotton pad against it.

"I- I probably have something better in the first aid kit to stop the bleeding, but while I look through it, just hold that down to the cut, okay?"

You nodded weakly, deciding not to ask any questions and just let your boyfriend try to fix you. Not that you could say much anyway, not with the way your throat had dried and closed up from all the anxiety.

You silently kept watch as Yunho fumbled through the red bag, noticing the slight tremors in his hands. When you looked at his face, however, it appeared surprisingly neutral.

Ah, so he was trying to stay calm to not worry you any further, but on the inside, he was freaking out just as much as you, if not more. Great. You didn't think you could feel more guilt than you already had, but guess not.

"I'm sorry it's taking so long," he spoke up again, "Mingi would get injured all the time before he'd moved out - you know how clumsy he can get - and I, uh, haven't exactly taken the time to re-organize everything. Sorry."

Your lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, along with a hushed "It's okay, babe".

Yunho's eyes shot up at your words, mirroring your soft smile with his own. Pausing his search for just a second, he leaned over and planted a quick, reassuring kiss on your forehead. "You're right. I'll take good care of you, don't worry. After the first accident Mingi had here, I bought some steri-strips... They should still be around here somewhere, but we threw the original packaging away, so they're just a bit hard to find."

You hummed in understanding, hoping you could ease at least some of his worries by showing him you were doing alright.

Somehow, the moment Yunho appeared in the doorway, all of your previous panic stopped. It was as if through his presence, the jumbled mess of worries surrounding you had split into two. Yunho had graciously shouldered the worries about your physical state, while you focused on keeping his mental well-being in check. All of the fear about his reaction to this situation as a whole was still there, of course, but for the time being, you'd managed to shove them to the back of your mind. It was something to worry about later, when the two of you could calm down and properly talk to each other.

For now, all you had to do was just worry about Yunho while he worried about you.

"Finally!" Yunho sighed in relief, fishing out two small packs of steri-strips. "Okay. Let's do this, then."

But as he shuffled closer to your leg again, he paused.

"Wait, I'm sorry for assuming," he began while opening the first set, "but you don't want to go to the hospital, right? They'd obviously do a much better job than me, but since you said you needed my help, I just, I guessed that- you know. Should we go to the hospital instead?"

You immediately shook your head no, making Yunho smile faintly, glad to have read you right and that he wasn't wasting time trying to play hero.

You were thankful he didn't insist on taking you to the hospital. You knew it would probably be for the best, but right now, in your state, you couldn't even fathom going. You were terrified just crawling to the door to beg for Yunho's help, let alone driving to the opposite part of town to have complete strangers examine you.

"Right then," Yunho sighed, mentally steeling himself for the next step. "Can you feel your leg fine? Feeling faint or anything?"

You just shook your head, slowly easing the pressure you held on the cut. "I'm okay, I think. Just a little shaken up still."

Yunho nodded thoughtfully, helping you unstick the bloody pad from your hand. Luckily, it seemed that most of the bleeding had stopped, at least for now. "It's okay, I'm a bit out of it too."

"Sorry for making you do this," you whispered sincerely, but Yunho quickly stopped you again.

"Don't be sorry, Y/N. I know you didn't mean to do this. You wouldn't have called for me like that if things went down the way you wanted them to."

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything after that, feeling your throat tighten as a fresh wave of tears rushed to your eyes.

You averted your gaze as Yunho began cleaning the area as gently as he could before placing the strips down, helping hold the wound shut. Four strips helped the cut close up, and then two were laid on top of them to help everything stay put. Despite no professional medical training, you swear your boyfriend could do anything like an expert first-try. Well, considering him saying something about treating Mingi's injuries, he might have actually trained a bit already. Either way, you could feel your nerves easing a considerable bit at the sight of the gash finally closed-up.

"There we go," Yunho said contently, giving your other leg a gentle pat. "Just stay put a little longer, okay? I'm gonna clean up a bit in here."

Oh, that's right.

You were so out of it you completely forgot about the blades scattered around, the blood dripping across the floor, the towel, pads, first aid kit, everything.

Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on your breathing. It has mostly returned to normal, but you could still feel a lot of tightness in your chest.

"Hey now, don't go falling asleep on me, okay?" You heard Yunho calling out to you a few meters away, making you peek one eye open.

He was kneeling by the sink, scrubbing at the dirty tiles. When he noticed you looking at him, he flashed you a quick, comforting smile.

"'m not falling asleep," you protested, "I'm just resting a bit, sorry."

"It's okay, I was just a little worried."

Yeah. That's definitely one way to put how Yunho was likely feeling right now.

But that could be dwelled on and discussed later. For now, all you had to do was sit still, breathe deep, and stay strong.

...

"You still with me, princess?"

You opened your eyes again, this time to find Yunho sitting in front of you. You don't know how much time has passed, too focused on pacing your breaths, saying the alphabet forwards and backwards, thinking about your favorite TV show moments - anything to calm down, really.

When he saw you were still fully awake, he pulled out a gauze bandage with a small smile. "We should be fine with just the steri-strips, but let me wrap this up for you to be one hundred percent safe, okay?"

You let him do as he pleased, trusting his judgment better than your own at the moment. As he bandaged your leg, you looked around the room, noticing everything was back the way it was before you'd entered.

"I put the, uh, the blades away for now," Yunho continued, a nervous edge to his tone. "I didn't want to just throw them away without permission, but leaving them out here in the open didn't seem like a great idea either. Sorry if it seems distrustful, it's just... you know."

"You're scared I might do it again," you finished for him, making him nod hesitantly. "It's okay, I get it."

It was honestly surprising how easy it was to talk to Yunho about this. Maybe it's because he already saw the worst of it, maybe it was the way he took such gentle care of you, or maybe it was just his entire attitude about this so far. Caring, non-judgemental, open to listen.

"Alright then, I think we're done here. Let's get you to bed, shall we?"

Before you could respond, you were picked up by a pair of strong, warm hands. You wanted to object for a split second, but on second thought, maybe it was in your best interest not to move too much right now.

A few moments later, you were laid back down on the bed, a soft kiss pressed to your temple before you were shrouded in your blanket. With a whispered promise of returning again, Yunho rushed back to turn off the lights and close the door, enveloping the two of you in darkness. You waited a second, two, and then the bed dipped behind you with a quiet creak.

"Come here." Yunho's arms wrapped around your waist from behind again, holding you closer than before. "Is this okay? Should I give you space?"

"It's fine, Yuyu."

His chest shook with a small chuckle. "Oh come on, don't call me that right now." He somehow snuggled up even closer to you, pressing his face into your neck. "I'm already emotional enough as is."

A beat or two of silence passed between the two of you before he spoke up again.

"Was this," Yunho paused, hesitating for a second, "was this the first time you did something like this, or are there... more?"

You sighed. "Well, this was the first time I've messed up like this and used an actual razor blade, but in general? There's been a few instances, yeah. Most of them happened years ago, but lately, it started up again."

Yunho stayed quiet this time. As the silence stretched on, you began to grow worried. Is this the moment where he gets mad at you?

A sniffle broke through the air, quickly followed by another. The hold around your waist tightened.

"It's the socks, isn't it?" Yunho barely choked out, voice trembling.

Never have you felt so guilty in your life before.

"I thought it was weird, I wanted to ask you about it, I really did," he sobbed, burying his wet face further into your shirt. "I didn't want to make you feel bad about it if it was genuinely just something you preferred, so I held back, but it worried me anyway. I should have asked so much sooner."

"Yu..." You tried to turn around in his embrace, but he stopped you, not letting you see his tearful eyes. "Honey, it's not your fault in the slightest, please don't beat yourself up about it."

"But I should have-"

"Just listen to the same advice you gave me, hm? You never wanted this to happen, you wouldn't be so torn up about it otherwise. It's really not your fault."

With what you assumed to be a watery hum of agreement, Yunho nodded into your back.

You tried to turn around again, and this time, Yunho finally let you. You watched as his silhouette sat up, reaching around for the tissue box on the nightstand before wiping his tears and blowing his nose.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, crumpling the tissue and putting it away, "you're the one hurting and I'm making it all about myself."

You tutted softly as he laid back down, shuffling closer to him to drape yourself over his broad chest. "That's not true, Yun. I know this is really hard on you as well, you have all the right to be upset. Please don't hide it just because I'm also in pain."

"Okay," he accepted, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

The room stayed quiet for another few minutes, save for the faint rustling of the sheets as you intertwined one of your hands with his.

"If it's okay," Yunho croaked in a careful, ginger tone, "could we maybe talk more about this tomorrow? I feel like I have over a million questions right now, but I don't want to overwhelm you when you should be resting."

You let out a small, sleepy chuckle. "Yeah, that sounds good. I think I'll also feel a bit better if we talk about this some more tomorrow. It's a bit embarrassing even now when I know that you know, but I trust you enough to share this part of me, I think."

Yunho leaned down to kiss the top of your head, making you smile. "Thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me. And please, never feel embarrassed about this. Just because this stuff is not talked about enough doesn't mean your feelings are wrong or not valid. We'll figure this out together, I promise. No matter what it takes."

"Okay. I look forward to tomorrow," you said, pressing a quick peck to his sternum before lying down again. "Goodnight, Yuyu."

"Goodnight, love."

Please, don't hesitate to reblog or comment!! Any kind of feedback is much appreciated!! <333

(Also would once again like to say that this was not meant to romanticize SH in any way, and I hope it did not come across that way. Take care, everyone <3)

[danadiadea]

Let's talk about one of the ways Severus Snape created his imposing adult persona in – his walk and body movements.

Harry describes the walk of teen Snape like that: "Harry looked around and glimpsed Snape a short way away, moving between the tables toward the doors into the entrance hall, still absorbed in his own examination paper. Round-shouldered yet angular, he walked in a twitchy manner that recalled a spider, his oily hair swinging about his face."

- round-shouldered – I mean he is reading while walking, that nerd, but also kid Sev is described as standing "slightly hunched" on the 9¾ Platform, so I think it's safe to say he tended to hunch, maybe as a way to make himself smaller and less noticiable;

- walked in a twitchy, spidery maner – which implies certain nervousness and tension, clumsiness, jerky and antsy movements.

He also moves very quickly when there is danger and reacts like that's survival instinct:

Snape reacted so fast it was as though he had been expecting an attack: Dropping his bag, he plunged his hand inside his robes, and his wand was halfway into the air when James shouted, “Expelliarmus’

Disentangling himself from his robes, he got quickly to his feet, wand up, but Sirius said, “Petrificus Totalus!” and Snape keeled over again at once, rigid as a board.

To put it shortly, teen Severus is awkward, twitchy, constantly feeling unsafe and alert, and is immersed into his own world.

Now adult Snape is different. He is never described as hunched in the books – even when he lowers himself to look at something, he always "bends over", not "hunches over", we also have "Snape straightened up slowly and turned to look at her" after he bends over Dean's cauldron, so that was one thing to deal with.

We know he has a recognisable "prowling" walk, even when he's in a hurry:

"A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. Harry’s victory faded from his mind as he watched. He recognized the figure’s prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner — what was going on?"

Severus is described as prowling on other occasions:

Snape prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindors’ work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively.

They sat and made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.

Snape hissed, letting go of his arm as though angry with himself. ‘I have as much right to prowl this school after dark as you do!" (he says it himself, so he does that shit deliberately, the fucker)

The most often used description of Snape's walk is "to sweep" forming different phrasal verbs, tho. It's mentioned at least 15 times through the books, there are some of them:

He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone...

Snape swept past Harry, making no comment about Hermione’s empty seat and cauldron.

Snape smirked as he swept off around the dungeon, fortunately not spotting Seamus Finnigan...

Snape nodded silently and swept out of the room.

he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

“I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your O.W.L,” said Snape with a smirk, as he swept among them, passing back their homework.

Snape strode to his office door, his wand still held at the ready, and swept out of sight.

Which sounds like a continuous, graceful, dramatic movement, as opposed to his hurried teen jerkiness. It's fluent in a way, almost gliding or slithering, if you will. Rather quick than slow, but in a controlled manner.

He also has his famous billowing cloak:

Snape bowed and set off back up the path, his black cloak billowing behind him.

Snape snarled, and he brushed past them, his long black cloak billowing out behind him.

said Harry, who was watching Snape running up the marble staircase in his mind’s eye, his black robes billowing behind him as ever...

There, his black robes rippling in a cold breeze, stood Severus Snape.

It was Snape. He approached Harry at a swift walk, his black robes swishing.

Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward.

etc etc.

Sometimes he walks quickly for practicality:

Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest.

It sounded like Fudge and Snape. They were walking quickly along the corridor at the foot of the staircase.

Snape climbed up the stairs quickly and stopped beside Filch.

And sometimes slowly for dramatic effect:

Snape advanced on Ron slowly, and the room held its breath.

For a moment, nobody moved or said anything. Then Snape slowly lowered his hands.

Hardly daring to breathe, Harry remained crouched down as Snape emerged slowly from the classroom. His expression unfathomable, he returned to the party.

So I believe adult Snape usually walks kinda like he speaks, which is another learnt behaviour of his – softly, with deliberate menacing undertones, elegance, and precision.

Also we, of course, have a prominent occasion on which he outran a Hippogriff, and don't you people forget that. This man's got the range.