#at a mere 32

[quill-of-thoth]

Went to a training that contained mostly undergrad and graduate students today. Trainer: So it's vitally important if you work in biology that you have the Hepatitis B vaccine. However, it's mandatory for going into kindergarten so unless your parents opted out or you have some medical reason, you've probably already had it. Call your parents or PCP to check, next slide... Me, the person who is dragging the average age of the room up by being approximately a decade ahead of anyone: Hey when was it made mandatory, do you know? Trainer, visibly 20: Oh, forever ago, like the 90's

[kagiura-akira]

Eugh joys of being an adult aged kid with peers the same age as and even younger than you who are adult aged adults

[scienceoftheidiot]

You know I knew it right

I didn't even watch ep1 and I was like

Oh no

Oh no he's going to

I'm going to

No please

And then sure as hell yeah, alright, wasn't already past ep1 that it was done.

I LIKE TOM STURRIDGE OKAY

HERE YOU GO SAY IT SAY IT WAS PREDICTABLE

Doesn't help that Dream there is like a scrawny sad wet cat. I mean I remember him as way more of an arse in the comic so I was all wooed too

Anyway. Say it. Say it.

[technofinch]

ohhhhhhhh discogs the website that u are....

[konigbabe]

PERISH

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x gn!reader Word count: 1.6k Tags/warnings: no y/n; manga spoilers (post Shibuya timeline); canon-compliant; angst; death; emotional breakdown; hurt/no comfort; loss; grief Summary: For the first time in a long time, Satoru Gojo, the epitome of strength, breaks. Happy start of JJKS2 writing week.

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

November 2018 8 minutes until Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

"Don’t worry, I’ll make it on time. I’m right behind the corner."

"We can wait," Yuji’s voice carries through the car, the static of the Bluetooth speaker occasionally cracking.

It feels like years have passed since you last saw him. Sealed away in the prison realm, Gojo’s state remains a mystery. There’s no telling how being locked in a place where time and space don’t exist can affect even the strongest minds.

That’s what worries you. What if he’ll break? What if he goes crazy on all of you? What if he explodes; wipes you all out with his technique? An endless sea of ‘what if’ swirls inside your mind as you take another turn, the mountains on your left with an ocean view on your right.

"Don’t," you reassure the youngster, "don’t wait any longer."

"You should be here, though," Megumi jumps into the conversation, "You’re closest to that idiot. He’ll want to see you."

His words draw a smile on your lips. It’s finally happening. The sleepless nights are coming to an end with the arrival of your lover.

"Then I’ll just opt for a dramatic entrance while you keep him busy," you respond before tightening your hands on the wheel. A familiar feeling washes over you; sudden knowledge of a new presence. Heart picking up, your eyes search the road for the source while the car’s speed slowly drops.

32 seconds; that’s how long it takes you to locate the source. A curse spirit manifestation stands in the middle of the road, blocking you. Its small hunched build stands a mere meter above the ground; four arms decorated by translucent fins hanging by its body, the prehnite skin glistening in the last rays of today’s sun, giving off a wet, moist appearance.

"Boys," you announce, stopping Yuji’s and Megumi’s bickering while still keeping up the cheerful, light voice in an attempt to not raise suspicions about your current predicament, "don’t wait any longer. Unseal Satoru and stop worrying ‘bout me. It’ll be fine."

Bringing the car to a slow halt, Yuji’s tone shifts into a more attentive one as your name seeps through the speaker before you hang up after one more reassurance.

As you step out of the vehicle, the curse's malevolence engulfs the air, almost tangible in its intensity. It clings to the atmosphere like a poisonous fog, penetrating your senses with a pungent sulfuric odor that threatens to overwhelm you.

Your hand slips inside your jacket to retrieve a carefully preserved seal, reserved for such precarious situations; just like this one.

"I’m sorry," with every footfall, the curse seems to shrink in size, yet its malicious nature grows stronger, the smell of sulfur almost suffocating, "but I’m in a hurry right now and you," pointing the parchment paper towards the spirit, "are in my way."

Swift and precise, your movements carry an aura of practiced precision. With little effort, you firmly press the seal upon the spirit's head, causing it to stumble momentarily before dissipating into thin air, vanquished by the power contained within the sigil.

Yet, the energy lingers.

Stronger than before. Stronger than a second ago. Its absent defense, non-existent attempt to fight or flee…it all makes sense now —

A powerful grip; a strong hand adorned with talons as keen as the finest blades dig into your shoulder as an inhuman force pushes you to the side.

As you're thrust aside, your vision catches a subtle glimmer of chrysolite, a hue that seeps into your perception; its scales are sturdy, each edge honed to a dangerous sharpness. Driven by instinct and the will to protect yourself, you reach out, your hand making contact with the curse spirit’s scaly hide.

The jagged edges of its scales cut into the delicate flesh of your fingers, leaving trails of crimson in their wake.

— it was a decoy.

Your body collides with the unforgiving side of the mountain, back meeting the rough and unyielding surface. A symphony of pain resonates within your bones, their structural integrity compromised as multiple cracks reverberate through your form.

Gasping for breath, your body instinctively seeks solace, but find none amidst the terrain. The curse doesn’t wait either. Swiftly moving forward, it lunges at you. Unforgiving. With a clear intent to strike. To kill.

During Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

There is no pain. The moment the curse’s hand breaches the barrier of your chest, you expect it. Expect some kind of visceral reaction. But there’s none — a gentle pinch, akin to a fleeting touch when the sharp claws first pierce through the protective layers of your breastplate. A slight discomfort upon the feeling of having a foreign object that’s found its place within the confines of your ribs. The barrier of your rib cage offers minimal resistance, yielding to the relentless advance that seeks to reach the very core of your being. The heart.

It all feels confusing.

"Kenjaku sends his regards," it whispers, the words slurred by the razor-sharp fangs that protrude from its mouth.

October 31, 2018 — 8:09 PM

"What’s the worst that can happen?"

Satoru saunters around the corner of the table, his presence punctuated by the audible slurping of juice from a small cartoon container. All while your palms rest on top of the said furniture, fingernails tapping at the surface.

The news has spread fast through the jujutsu community, faster than wildfire. Whispers of an unknown curtain cast around Shibuya an hour ago, trapping all non-sorcerers, innocent civilians, inside its insidious grasp with only one demand: Bring Satoru Gojo.

"Don’t say it like that, Satoru," you turn to face the man whose casual and dismissive demeanor only adds fuel to the worries setting inside your bones.

"They’re a bunch of curses," his hand finds its place on your hip bone while placing the empty container away, "Some special grades, yeah, but they’re weak compared to me. I’ll deal with them, save some people in the meantime, and bam," he snaps his fingers loudly, "We can go home. Get that sunset date you’ve been babbling about. Life is good," he finishes with a kiss on the crown of your head.

Life is good.

You watch the sun dip below the horizon behind the curse spirit’s back, indulging the sinister being in a halo glow.

Yeah. In the end, life was good.

2 hours and 48 minutes after Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

For a moment, he stands still. Unable to look down; frozen in time. The weight of it all seems to bear down upon his shoulders – now that Sukuna’s taken over Megumi’s body, Nanami’s and Yaga’s death, Suguru’s body being used as a vessel, the slow crumbling fall of the Jujutsu world – and now you; being gone.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of the current time. Yet even his immense power proves futile as the people he loves keep dying on him…because of him.

A burden that threatens to crush him beneath its insurmountable gravity.

The air around him hangs heavy with sorrow, as if the very essence of grief has manifested itself in the atmosphere. A storm of emotions swirls within him; a combination of disbelief, anguish and a gnawing ache that gnashes at the core of his being.

He clenches his fists, fingers trembling with a mixture of sorrow and determination. In that agonizing moment, he finds the strength to finally lower his gaze, to confront the devastating truth that lies at his feet.

Everyone holds their breaths, the weight of his misery echoing in the silence as his eyes meet the lifeless visage of the one he holds dearest.

Of you.

Hand reaching out, his fingers graze the once-soft flesh of your hand; now cold and stiff. It serves as a confirmation of reality. There’s no getting you back, no way Shoko can nurture you back to health with her technique.

You’re gone.

And in that harrowing instant, the façade crumbles. The walls he built to contain his pain come crashing down, and Satoru Gojo, the epitome of strength, breaks.

Crumbling down on his knees, the vulnerability that spills forth from his broken form is raw and unrestrained. Only a handful of those closest to him stand behind to witness the symphony of torment that pierces the silence. Tears stream down his face, each drop carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words, moments you two could’ve spent together.

One hand covering his mouth to silence the guttural sounds, the other reaches out to you, tenderly cradling your lifeless head upon his lap. He clings to the fragile hope that if he could provide just enough warmth and love, you might return to him.

Yuji looks around the room, at the people who silently observe their friend fall apart. Taking a step towards the hunched man, a soft grasp stops him mid step; Kiyotaka shakes his head, pushing his glasses back in place as Shoko looks down. For the first time, she’s unable to figure out her classmate, her childhood friend, the man whose side she’s always stayed by.

"Gojo," Yuji doesn’t allow Kiyotaka to stop him. Believing in what’s right, he stands behind his teacher’s back.

Hand laying on the tense muscle of his shoulder, he doesn’t attempt to comfort Satoru with any words — no words in this universe would bring you back anyway. Instead, his hand just rests there. Unmoving. Gentle.

"Who did it," his words cause Shoko to look back up as Satoru, stone-faced and stoic, speaks in a firm, devoid voice. Imagines of unspeakable horror flashes in his mind as he stands up, towering over the wide-eyed Yuji.

"Tell me now," his eyes search Kiyotaka’s, voice filled with undeniable authority, "I’ll kill them, kill them all."

[natsaffection]

Mafias Mistress pt. 2 | N.R

MafiaBoss!Natasha x CivilianYounger!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22), kinda mean Nat, Daddy kink, BDSM, restraints, Begging, multiple orgasm, strap on (r receiving) rough sex, fingering (r receiving) poor Natty who doesn’t understand feelings 🤲🏼

Word Count: 3,7 K

A/N: Second part is here! More details about the relationship will appear in the next chapter + maybe Natasha’s secret will already be revealed, who knows🙌🏻🙌🏻

The air in the dimly lit room was thick with tension, a palpable sense of danger surrounding the two women seated at the mahogany table. Natasha Romanoff exuded an aura of power and mystery with her piercing green eyes and wavy red hair falling past her shoulders. She tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the polished surface, a subtle yet commanding gesture that spoke volumes about her authority.

Maria Hill, whose steely gaze and unwavering loyalty were etched into every line of her face, stood by Natasha's side like a watchful sentinel. Her clenched jaw and furrowed brow betrayed the gravity of the situation. As she began to update Natasha on the latest developments in the shadow world they navigated with practiced finesse, a sense of unease settled over the room like a heavy cloak.

Maria's voice was quiet and measured as she described the intricate web of alliances and betrayals that threatened to engulf her carefully built empire.

"Dreykov's men have invaded our territory, testing our defenses, trying to find a weak spot," Maria explained, her tone a mixture of concern and determination. Natasha leaned back in her chair, the soft leather creaking slightly under her weight, her eyes never leaving Maria's face.

The crackle of the fireplace in the corner sent flickering shadows dancing across the walls, adding an eerie undertone to the already tense atmosphere in the room. Natasha's fingers closed around the crystal glass of whiskey in front of her, the amber liquid swirling hypnotically as she considered Maria's words. Beneath her calm facade simmered a variety of conflicting emotions, a potent cocktail of concern, admiration, and a simmering undercurrent of defiance.

Natasha's mind was like a stormy sea, each wave crashing against the walls she had carefully built around herself. Maria watched her carefully, her sharp eyes noticing every slight change in Natasha's demeanor. The weight of unspoken words lay heavy between them, a silent understanding that went beyond mere words.

Natasha's gaze flickered from Maria's unwavering eyes to the crackling fireplace in the corner, as if seeking comfort in the dancing flames. The room seemed to shrink around them, suffocating in its intimacy, each breath taken with measured caution.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Last Night ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The room was shrouded in shadow, the only source of light coming from the dimly lit bedside lamp. Natasha leaned back on the silk sheets, her gaze fixed on the woman in front of her, her expression a mixture of desire and dominance.

"Daddyyy.." whispered the woman who was Natasha's nightly attendant, her voice trembling with anticipation. Natasha's lips curved into a predatory smile as she beckoned the woman closer, her eyes dark with desire. "Come here," she commanded, her voice dripping with authority.

The woman obeyed, her movements careful as she approached Natasha, keenly aware of the power dynamics at play. Natasha's touch was possessive, her hands sliding over the woman's skin with a need that bordered on desperation.

In the heat of the moment, Natasha's mind wandered to forbidden fantasies, her desires leading her down a treacherous path. And then, in a moment of reckless abandon, she spoke a name that did not belong to the woman herself, but held power beyond imagination.

"Y/n.." Natasha murmured, her voice animated with desire as she lost herself in her fantasy.

The woman froze at the unfamiliar name, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to understand Natasha's slip of the tongue. "Y/n?" she began, her voice shaking with uncertainty. "Who is Y/n?"

Natasha's expression darkened, her features twisting with hurt as she realized her mistake. "What do you mean?" she snapped, her voice irritated.

The woman took a deep breath, bracing herself for what she was about to say. "The name..." she explained, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. "You just said a different name, Y/n.."

Natasha's eyes narrowed at the mention of your name, her defenses instinctively rising to protect her fragile heart. "That name means nothing to me," she insisted, her voice cold and dismissive.

But the woman saw through Natasha's facade and recognized the pain and longing that lay beneath the surface. "Natasha, please," she pleaded, her voice laced with compassion. "I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you said her name. Who is she?"

Natasha's anger flared, her facade of control fading as she pushed the woman away with a forceful gesture. "Enough," she growled, her voice sharp with frustration. "You're here for my pleasure, nothing more, remember that."

The woman backed away at Natasha's sudden outburst, her heart sinking as she realized the futility of her efforts. "I-I know! But I might be able to help you with that..with her. Sounded like you were caring-"

But Natasha was beside herself with reason, her mind clouded by anger and fear. "Get out of here," she ordered, her voice icy and unforgiving. "I don't want to see you again."

The woman's heart shattered at Natasha's words, the pain of rejection cutting deeper than any physical wound. With one last sad look, she turned and fled the room, leaving Natasha alone in the darkness with her demons.

As the door closed behind her, Natasha was left with nothing but the echo of her own regret, the weight of her choices pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket. And in that moment of loneliness, she realized the true price of her pride and stubbornness.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Now ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Maria cleared her throat, bracing herself for what she was about to say. "Our sources have confirmed that the rival cartel is taking steps to expand its territory," she began, her voice firm despite the tension in the room. "They are targeting our key distribution networks and..."

Natasha's mind wandered, a hint of annoyance crossing her face as memories of the past overshadowed her thoughts. Your face popped into her mind, an unwelcome reminder of a vulnerability she had long buried.

"Natasha?" Maria's voice broke through the fog, jolting Natasha back to the present.

Natasha's jaw clenched as she forced herself to focus, pushing aside the unwelcome memories that threatened to consume her. "Continue," she commanded, her voice clipped and dismissive.

Maria hesitated for a moment, narrowing her eyes in concern as Natasha's sudden change in demeanor irritated her. "Is everything okay?" she asked in a worried voice.

Natasha's mask fell, revealing the turmoil raging within her. "Everything is fine," she replied curtly, her kindness betraying her inner turmoil.

But Maria was not so easily fooled, her instincts honed by years of loyalty and service to Natasha. "You seem distracted," she remarked in a soft yet searching voice. "Do you have something on your mind?"

Natasha bristled at the suggestion, her defenses ramping up to protect her wounded pride. "I don't have time for distractions," she snapped, her voice sounding frustrated. Maria stood firm, unfazed by Natasha's outburst. "With all due respect, Natasha, this is important," she insisted, her gaze unwavering as she met Natasha's eyes. "We must be prepared for whatever comes our way."

Natasha's resolve wavered, her anger melting away in the face of Maria's unwavering loyalty. "I know," she admitted, her voice softening a little. "I...I just have a lot on my mind."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

As she entered the room, Natasha's eyes immediately fell on the ropes and shackles hanging from the ceiling. She felt the familiar stirrings of power and control, her body already humming with anticipation. When she turned to face you, she could see the young woman's wide eyes and slight trepidation mixed with excitement in her gaze.

"Take off your clothes," Natasha instructed. "And then kneel on the floor, hands behind your back."

You obeyed, your heart beating faster as you removed your clothes, revealing your delicate, slender figure. As you assumed the kneeling position, Natasha stepped behind you and gently ran her fingers through your hair.

"Good girl," she purred, feeling a wave of satisfaction as you shivered under her touch. This has been going on for several weeks now. Natasha was desperate and called you. But her being desperate for you is another story.

Natasha walked over to the table laden with ropes, restraints, and other toys. She chose a piece of soft, supple rope and approached you with it. "Arms up," she ordered. "I'm going to tie you up." You obeyed, raising your arms above your head as Natasha began wrapping the rope around your wrists.

The rough texture of the rope brushed against your sensitive skin, sending tingles down your spine. You closed your eyes and let out a soft sigh as Natasha pulled the ropes tight and straightened your arms.

Now that you were securely bound, Natasha walked to the front of the room where an intricate set of leather restraints hung from the ceiling. She attached the restraints to your wrists, pulled you up, and secured you to the ceiling hooks.

Your body was now spread out, vulnerable and exposed to Natasha. Natasha stood before you, taking a moment to admire her work. She ran her fingers over the curve of your chest, tracing a line across your stomach, pausing just above your aching sex.

"You look so fucking beautiful," she murmured, her voice hoarse with excitement. Your breath caught, your body trembled as Natasha slowly began to lunge at you. You could feel the heat of Natasha's breath on your skin, causing goosebumps. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Natasha picked up a whip from the nearby table and gently ran it along your thighs.

The leather strands caressed your skin, burning gently with each smack. You moaned softly, your body's reaction betraying you. You craved more, wanted Natasha to test your limits and bring you to the brink of pleasure and pain.

And as if she could read your mind, Natasha flicked the whip harder, sending a shockwave of pain and pleasure through your body.

"Please..," you begged, your voice tight with desire.

Natasha knew what you wanted, so she’s smacking your breasts and stomach with the whip, leaving a satisfying red mark on your skin. Your moans grew louder, your body arching in pleasure and pain.

Natasha enjoyed the power and control she had over you, her own desire growing with each lash of the whip. She dropped the whip and moved closer to you. She ran her fingers over your wetness, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

"You like that, don't you?" Natasha teased, pressing her fingers deeper into your core. You nodded and bit your lower lip as Natasha began to stroke your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

Natasha's touch was incredibly skillful, bringing you closer to the edge with each movement of her fingers. "Beg for it," Natasha growled, nipping at your ear with her teeth. "Beg for me to make you come."

"Please," you gasped, your body burning with desire. "Please let me come. I need it. I need you..“ Natasha giggled darkly, continuing her relentless assault on your sensitive flesh.

You writhed and moaned beneath her, your body begging for release. Natasha's own need rose, her arousal unmistakable as she ran her fingers over your clit.

She plunged her fingers deep inside you, feeling your muscles tighten around them as she began to thrust harder and faster. "Oh, fuck, yes.." you gasped, the pressure inside you rising to unbearable levels.

Your hips rose, seeking more friction, more pleasure. Natasha did not disappoint, her fingers moving in a fast and steady rhythm that matched your pace. Your breathing quickened, your heart pounding in your chest. You felt the familiar tingling before the surge of pleasure, the blinding light that was your release.

"Cum for me," Natasha demanded with a low growl. With one final thrust of Natasha's fingers, you break, gasping and moaning as you come violently against her.

Natasha held you there, prolonging the ecstasy as you shuddered and trembled. As you came down from your high, Natasha slowly pulled her fingers from your wetness, bringing them to her own lips and sucking them clean.

"You taste so fucking good," she said, her eyes shining with lust. You couldn't help but blush and squirm as Natasha continued to lick and tease her fingers. "You're so fucking wet and ready for me."

Natasha wrapped her arms around your shoulders, her mouth finding yours in a new wave of passion. You could feel Natasha's hands sliding down your body, grabbing your ass and kneading your flesh.

"I want to feel you i-inside me," you whisper, gasping for air. Natasha didn't need to be asked twice, she was already hungry for your taste. She lifted your legs up and wrapped them around her waist, going deeper into you with each thrust. The room was filled with the sounds of their skin slapping against each other, their moans and groans of pleasure, punctuated by the occasional curse word. It was raw and primal, and both of you reveled in it.

Your body trembled beneath Natasha's as you gave yourself over to the experience. You could feel every inch of Natasha's fake cock inside you, filling you and stretching you to the edge of pain. But you wanted more. You wanted to feel everything Natasha had to offer.

"Beg me to thrust harder," she gasps, your fingers digging into Natasha's back. "Please...fuck me harder...!"

Natasha's fingers dug into your hips, holding you tight as she thrust into you with an intensity that took both of your breath away. "Yebat (fuck), you feel so good," Natasha murmured, her breath warm against your neck.

Your nails dug into Natasha's back, leaving red welts. You were lost in the haze of pleasure, her mind blank except for the rush of sensations coursing through your body.

Natasha's thrusts became wilder and her breath came in ragged gasps. Your own orgasm was already building inside you, each pounding thrust pulling you closer to the edge.

"Fuck, I'm coming," Natasha growled, her clit rubbing against yours with each movement. Your response was only a soft whimper, your muscles tightening around Natasha as the first wave of your orgasm washed over you.

Natasha's thrusts became more erratic, her body stiffening as she followed you over the edge."Oh, fuck!" Natasha gasped, her fingers digging into your hips. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Your orgasm continued to rip through you, leaving you shaking and gasping. Natasha's body fell against of yours, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she gasped for air.

Slowly, Natasha pulled out of your body, freeing you from your bonds. She’s bringing you over to her bed, your legs trembled, still caught in the aftershocks of your orgasm. Natasha wrapped her arms around your waist, holding you close and kissing you deeply.

"You were incredible," Natasha murmured, tracing patterns on your stomach with her fingers. You smiled exhaustedly, your heart still racing. "That was... incredible."

Your vision blurred, every muscle in your body frozen in a wonderfully wild tableau. Natasha pulled you close, their sweat-soaked bodies entwined as they fought to catch their breath. Their mutual satisfaction hung thick and heavy in the air.

Your breaths mingled as you stared at each other, eyes glazed with contented exhaustion. Your heavy breaths formed a synchronized rhythm as you embraced in the dim light, skin flushed and chest heaving. Exhausted and exhilarated, you lay in her arms, still and calm, letting the lulling drum of their synchronized heartbeats sing you to sleep.

As the fog of post-orgasmic pleasure dissipated, tenderness stirred within Natasha, wrapping her heart in an unfamiliar warmth. It was a feeling that reached beyond the boundaries of physical pleasure and crept behind the heavy curtains that normally concealed her feelings.

In those fleeting moments, she wanted nothing more than to surrender to the dreamy cloud of affection that swirled around her. Yet she resisted, clinging grimly to the remnants of her past.

Natasha could barely comprehend the confusing feelings that left her speechless. She had always believed that she was incapable of such vulnerability. You shifted your weight and pressed your cheek against Natasha's chest. Your eyelids were heavy with the impending sleep.

Despite the inner turmoil, Natasha felt her heart swell at the sight. She put an arm protectively around you and traced lazy patterns on your back. Her fingertips left a fiery trail on the skin beneath.

Natasha's heartbeat lulled you into a peaceful sleep, your dreams carrying you to a land free from the burden of reality. Natasha's defenses dropped and the irresistible lure of exploring deeper emotional terrain seduced her.

It was a foreign path, one she had never allowed herself to tread. And yet here she was, rowing the swaying boat through choppy waters, only partially certain of her destination.

She shifted you gently in her arms, maneuvering you so that they were lying side by side on the plush crimson velvet. The dim lights danced on their entwined bodies as you touched, sweet memories of the forbidden fruit they had just enjoyed.

Their limbs intertwined effortlessly and the wry smiles they shared conveyed a wealth of unspoken intimacy. The room was filled with the soft glow of moonlight, casting a halo around your sleeping form as you lay nestled against Natasha's side.

As Natasha's racing heartbeat gradually slowed to a steady rhythm, she lost herself in the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the rhythmic sound like a soothing lullaby. And in that quiet moment of intimacy, as your warmth seeped into her skin, Natasha felt something stir inside her - a stirring of feelings she had long denied.

With shaking hands, Natasha brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, her touch gentle and reverent. And as she looked at the sleeping figure beside her, bathed in the soft light of the moon, Natasha felt a wave of longing wash over her - a longing for more than fleeting passion and desire.

In that moment of vulnerability, Natasha's walls crumbled, her defenses laid bare before the only person who had managed to break through her cover.

With a soft exhale, she whispered the words she hadn't dared admit for a long time, not even to herself. "I think I'm falling in love with you," Natasha confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. And as the words hung in the air between them, she knew there was no turning back.

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🏷️ TAGLIST:

@new-Lee-marvel-fan-blog @taliiiaasteria @kipitou @queen2234 @sgm616 @dorabledewdroop @natsxwife @natashaswife4125 @loneliestafterparty @jenniferjareauwife @maggieromanov @doveromanoff

[celaenaeiln]

who do you think each bats' favourite sibling is canonically? i haven't seen much about this outside of super fanon stuff so i'm curious

Let's start with the easiest one!

Tim - Dick

Tim's favorite sibling but also favorite person ever is unquestionably, undoubtedly Dick. This boy adores his big brother. He's full-on obsessed with him.

His thoughts on Dick are just a compilation of praises about him and his inner dialogue simply consists of a series of hero worship.

Robin (1993) Issue #32

Red Robin Issue #23

Sometimes I ponder about Dick and Tim's relationship because I feel like what Tim wants from Dick isn't just a brother, I feel like he wants him to be a parent which is part of the reason why Tim and Damian don't get along.

Because the truth is, before Damian came along, Tim was Dick's robin first. And Tim loved it.

(This post was on hold for months because I needed that exact panel where Tim says to Dick "It's obvious he wants us to be the new batman and Robin." BuT i CaNt FiNd It. I literally give up, if anyone know what panel I'm referring to people reblog it with the panel and I'll upload it with the post)

Dick was Tim's Robin and everything he did he wanted to live up to him

Batman/Catwoman: The Gotham War: Scorched Earth

Look at what he says about Dick:

Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying

Even before Dick and Tim met again, Tim started working out just so he could be like his idol. Tim literally says to Dick "My grades are okay but I studied because I wanted to just like you."

You know what they say about idols and pedestals and never meeting your heroes? The opposite is true for Tim about Dick. After meeting Dick for the second time, his idol worship grew so much it shattered every ceiling in existence.

Tim loves him so so much. People sometimes misunderstand and think that Tim hated Dick when he fired him from Robin but it wasn't hate that Tim felt. It was jealousy. Jealousy over Dick choosing Damian over him.

Tim even solely used the Red Robin persona for the mere reason that he didn't want to dirty Dick's Robin by stigmatizing it with his less ethical actions.

Damian - Dick

Obviously. The only reason I said Tim was the easiest is because Tim's inner and outer thoughts about Dick can be complied to create volumes of fanbooks of flowing poetry about him. Damian on the other hand is more of a tsundere, but there's still only one person who he loves aside from his father and even more than.

Robin War Issue #1

If there were any doubts, I don't think this panel could be any clearer about who Damian's favorite is.

Stephanie - Cass

Batgirl (2000) Issue #38

Cass - Stephanie

Batgirls (2016) Issue #14

Damn.

Steph and Cass are each other's favorites

Detective Comics (1937) Issue #945

Duke - noone? everyone?

Like actually I can't pick out one person Duke likes the best. You're either on his wavelength or he's snarking you off it. He's the type of guy where everyone likes him and he's chilling by himself, doing whatever he wants.

Jason - Dick

Out of the batkids who did deal with Jason during his worst phase, Dick is unilaterally his favorite. Sometimes when I think about Jason's relationship with Bruce, I'm reminded of how much Jason and Bruce are alike sometimes because Jason's view on Dick is almost identical to Bruce's view on Dick and they even have similar reactions. We all know that Bruce hero-worships Dick. Time and time again, Bruce emphasizes, stresses, and talks about how amazing Dick is and how he's so much better than him, and constantly places Dick on a pedestal. The issue comes when Dick doesn't want to do what Bruce wants him to do because he believes that Dick is an extension of himself, his better half, and he's furious when Dick doesn't follow or accept what he's doing because Dick should know what Bruce is trying to do because he's supposed to be better than him, how dare he stop him, etc.

Jason acts in similar ways to Dick. There's a whole issue where Jason gets fear gassed and one of his biggest fears is Dick. More specifically, it's about how amazing Dick is and never living up to him because in Jason's eyes, Dick is absolutely perfect. There is no one better than him because he is the peak of everything. He places Dick on the highest pedestal there is and he kind of safeguards Dick there in his heart. He used to get really angry because he believes Dick is the best but also refuses to let Dick be anything other than the best. The best way I have to explain them is Jason holding Dick prisoner as a result of his hero worship.

Once Jason is slightly calmer, his relationship dynamics with everyone became really clear, as well as what he thinks of them and it's shown how the way he treats Dick is just different.

Task Force Z Issue #8

Grayson Issue #12

"You don't do that to your--you don't do that to another Robin!"

He was going to say brother 🥺🥺

In this scene, it's pretty obvious that Jason loves Dick a lot but he's obviously not going to be all fuzzy feelings about it because he likes to be edgy. Jason's a little confusing in general for people to understand because they expect him to be nice and open but Jason's not nice, he's just nicer to the people he likes. Once we start understanding that, he becomes clearer.

And to Dick -

Nightwing (2016) Issue #15

-He's exceptionally nicer.

DC's Ghouls Just Wanna Have Fun Issue #1

Another example of why Jason loves Dick the most is because in the comics, Jason doesn't work with anyone in the family unless he has to unless it's Dick because he chooses to work with Dick by choice.

Dick - Tim or Damian

Dick adores Tim so freaking much. He loves him so, so much.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #139

Catch me crying behind my sunglasses at Dick kissing Tim's head lovingly 😭

Robin (1993) Issue #12

I just love these soft touch moments Dick has with Tim. It's so incredibly sweet.

He was Tim's mentor

The New Titans (1988) Issue #65

and a really good one too.

He loves him-

Detective Comics (1937) Issue #696

-so much.

(I'd add more panels but I ran out of image space :'0)

I genuinely cannot say who he loves more at all. I can't even pick. I really do think he loves them evenly because when I think about leaning one side, more evidence comes to mind for the other side like a pair of counter weights.

Damian...I don't really need to say any words because the pictures speak for themselves

Batman (2016) Issue #34

Grayson Issue #12

aldskjdhkdjfhldfah;dh. Look at what he gave his son! A souvenir from the first time his dad met his mom because Dick knows how much Damian loves his parents <333!! There's nothing I can even say more.

Here's my previous post on Dick and Damian's relationship.

[roosterforme]

How Old Are You? | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob only gets one birthday every four years. When his wife, Molly, realizes it's almost Leap Day, she throws him a party any nine year old would love. And it's the perfect celebration for a thirty-six year old, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, implied smut, 18+

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC!Molly (this story accompanies The Curveball)

Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Bob was half asleep in bed, post orgasm, when the weird conversation started. "So technically you're about to turn nine? Even though you'll be thirty-six? Is that right?"

He cracked his eyes open again as he watched his wife stretch her arms above her head, her nipple piercings glinting in the soft candlelight that had their bedroom aglow. She was nibbling on her lip, and he could practically see her mind working.

"Yeah," he answered cautiously. "Why do you have that expression on your face, Mo? Like you're plotting something scary?"

"I've never plotted something scary a day in my life!" she told him before leaning down and gently biting his bicep. "I was merely considering what I should get you for your special day."

"I don't need anything," he replied quickly, remembering the naked cowboy statue wearing glasses that she gifted to him last year.

"Well," she said, drawing out the single syllable. "That's where I think you're wrong, Bobby."

"Molly, I don't even want anything." Then he had an idea that he hoped would throw her off. "How about you get some pretty new barbells or rings and let me play with them?"

She rolled her eyes. "That would be a gift for me."

He shrugged as she draped herself across him. "Kind of for both of us when you really think about it."

Her soft lips found his jaw as she whispered, "But it's not every day you turn nine, Coach Cute Glasses. You deserve an extra special treat."

He shook his head in exasperation and said, "I'll really be thirty six though."

"Not according to the calendar." She kissed him sweetly before climbing over him to get out of the bed. "I'll go check on Charlie and Flora one last time before we go to sleep." Bob watched her slip his discarded undershirt on and smooth it down over her gorgeous body, perhaps a little more filled out now that they had two kids.

He reached for her hand and said, "Mo, we really need to sell the condo and get a bigger place. They can't share that tiny room forever."

Even though she told him all the time that she loved the condo and didn't want to leave it, she was finally starting to come around. "I think I'm ready to admit that you might be right about that, Uncle Bob."

"Really?" he asked, jolting up in bed.

She nodded and hummed. "Yes. Besides, your birthday party would be a lot easier to plan if we had more space to accommodate all the guests."

Bob groaned and flopped back down again, and Molly removed his glasses for him. "I don't need a birthday party," he insisted. "I just want a nice, quiet evening with you and the kids. Maybe your sister, Ev and Bradley, too, but that's it."

"We'll see," she replied before leaving the bedroom with a wicked smirk on her face.

----------------------------

"Can you get to my sister's house by noon on your birthday? For your party?" Molly asked as she watched Bob feed a mashed up banana to their one year old daughter. 

"I thought we ended that discussion with us both accepting the fact that I do not need a birthday party."

"Yeah... it's too late for that," she replied easily as she and Charlie both ate their own dinners. Molly's favorite hobby was keeping her husband on his toes. She figured his life would be sad and boring without her in it, and since he chose to be with her, he must have a deep-seated love for nonsense. She always made sure to bring it out for him, especially for his birthday. 

He gave her a stern look. "It's just a small party, right?"

"Sure, Bobby."

"I don't believe you."

"Oh come on," she whined. "This is your first real birthday since we met!"

She knew he would crack. He gave her what she wanted the vast majority of the time anyway, but when she whined for something harmless, it was always hers. 

"Fine."

And with that single word, Molly executed the most epic ninth birthday anyone could ever have. She called the vendors. She ordered the piñata. She invited the guests. She procured a balloon arch. And on Bob's birthday, her own sister and brother-in-law were looking at her with shocked expressions from their back deck when she started setting things up at eight in the morning. 

"I thought this was going to be a small party?" Bradley asked as he watched her assemble the red and yellow balloon arch. 

Molly just laughed. "That's just what I told Bob. I lied. The pony should be arriving soon."

"Pony?" gasped her sister. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard. Did you say a pony is arriving?"

"Yes," Molly said, speaking a little louder now to make her point. "How the hell are we supposed to have a cowboy birthday party without pony rides?"

Then Everett came tearing out onto the back deck, still in his pajamas, shouting, "Someone is bringing a horse around from the driveway!"

"See?" Molly asked as the pony and handler appeared in the backyard. "Ev is excited. He has good taste."

"He's ten!" Bradley snapped as he went running across the yard. "Is this thing going to tear up the grass that I spent months watering so it looked this nice?" But as soon as he saw how excited Everett was to pet the cute animal, Molly knew her brother-in-law would be on her side. It was just her sister glaring at her now.

"Whatever you mess up out here, you need to clean up. That includes the horse poop!"

"It's just a pony," Molly assured her, although the animal was a lot bigger than she expected. And yes, it was actually pooping. "It's fine. It'll be fine."

She was hoping it would be fine.

--------------------------

When Bob buckled Charlie and Flora back into their car seats in his truck at Myers park, he checked the time. It was almost noon. "Oh god," he groaned as he opened the driver's door. He had no idea what to expect, but the text from Bradley about how he was going to need help filling in the hoof prints in their yard next week had him on edge.

"Birthday party!" Charlie cheered from the backseat as Bob pulled out onto the main road. Molly had been talking about it so much, their son kept saying it over and over.

"That's right," Bob told him calmly. "But I'm pretty sure Mommy went bananas over the entire thing."

"Nana!" Flora crooned before she burst into tears. He should have known better than to mention her favorite food right in front of her like that. So he drove to his sister-in-law and brother-in-law's house with one delighted child and one who was crying hysterically. When he pulled down their block, there was absolutely nowhere to park, and there was a horse trailer parked right in front of the house. 

"Oh, no. No no no. Molly, no," he whispered. When he got closer, he saw the massive banner hanging on the porch that said Happy Birthday, Cowboy Bob. He had to squeeze his truck into the driveway behind the familiar blue Bronco while he gaped at the sight before him.

"Horse!" Charlie screeched. He wasn't wrong. There was some sort of pony walking around the backyard with Everett perched on top of the saddle wearing a cowboy hat. "I want the horse!"

"Okay," Bob told him as he shook his head and climbed out of the truck. He walked around to the back of the house with one child in each arm, and thankfully when Flora saw the pony, she stopped crying, perhaps out of fear. 

"Bob!" Molly shouted over the classic country music that was playing as she popped out of the enormous rodeo themed bounce house and ran to him. Literally everyone he'd ever seen in his life seemed to be here, and they were all wearing cowboy hats. Everyone from work was here. Like everyone. Cyclone was wearing a cowboy hat and drinking a beer. Bob thought he saw the doctor that Molly worked with who delivered both of their children. His parents and both of his sisters were here. His niece Piper was taking a turn riding the pony. There were indeed hoof prints in the yard.

Then Molly was somehow in his arms along with both kids, and she was kissing his neck as she said, "Happy birthday," in a voice that would have been a lot more appropriate for their bedroom. 

"Mo," he said, shaking his head. "There's a pony. It's making Bradley look constipated." 

She just rolled her eyes in response. "He'll get over it as soon as I offer to watch Everett for a few days over spring break so he and my sister can go away and do nasty stuff to each other."

Bob just smiled down at her and said, "You told me this would be a small affair."

"I guess I lied. Oops. Come say hi to Phoenix." She dragged him up onto the deck where Natasha took both kids from him with a kiss to his cheek, and then Molly was yanking his shirt over his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked, standing there in his undershirt with his glasses askew. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, she was pulling another shirt over his head. It said Birthday Cowboy, and there was a number 9 that looked like it was shaped out of rope.

And that's when everyone started hugging him and running around to get him drinks and chat with him. Mickey was wearing cowboy boots and a cow print vest. Maverick was teaching the kids how to line dance. Bradley's scowl had started to ease up since Everett seemed to be having the time of his life. 

"Happy birthday, Uncle Bob," Everett said when he walked over. He hugged Bob and added, "Your birthday party is my favorite birthday party ever, and I can't believe it's in my yard!"

"Thanks, Ev," he replied with a laugh as he watched Molly and Flora dancing with Javy. "It is pretty cool."

"Happy birthday, Bob," his sister-in-law said, handing him a card. "You can open it later. We got you opening day tickets for the Padres. Also, I'm so sorry that my sister is so chaotic, but you should have known what you were getting into when you started dating her."

Bob accepted another kiss on his cheek. "She really can't be stopped once she gets going." 

"It's a waste of time to even try. Might as well sit back and enjoy the show."

He did, and the looser he got, the more fun he started to have. He pet the pony while Piper rode around on it. He smashed open a cowboy piñata with one of Everett's baseball bats. He jumped in the bounce house with Charlie and Everett, and Bradley even joined them.

"I'll help you fix your yard next week," Bob promised as Everett did a backflip. 

Bradley just laughed and said, "It's hard to be mad about it when Molly just wants everyone to have the time of their life. You're very lucky. Also, I don't know how you deal with her on a daily basis."

Bob laughed, too. "Sometimes I just take it one hour at a time."

"Get ready for cake!" Molly shouted, and it took five people to carry out the biggest sheet cake he'd ever seen in his life. It was cow print and decorated with boots and spurs, and said Happy 9th Birthday, Cowboy Bob!

After he blew out the nine candles he reached for Molly. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing her softly. "I didn't know I needed a ninth birthday party, but I guess I really did."

"You're only a kid once, Bobby," she replied, smiling against his lips.

"You do know I'm actually thirty-six, right?" he asked, pulling her snug against him as her sister started to cut up the cake. 

"Not according to the calendar," she responded, patting him gently on the cheek. "Your mom and I had a lovely conversation about how terrible you look for your age."

He tried not to smile, but it was useless. "I'm actually having the best day, Mo."

"I knew it all along."

---------------------------

Both kids were sound asleep as soon as Molly tucked them into bed. Charlie went on a sugar high and then crashed, and Flora was played with and held by seemingly everyone at the party. They would probably sleep for a solid twelve hours. Which was good, because Molly wanted to give her husband the rest of his birthday presents. 

She found him in their bedroom where he was opening up the cards he got with a soft smile on his face. "You have so many friends," she told him, and he turned to look at her. "Everyone loves Bob Floyd."

He actually blushed which made her want to rip all of his clothing to shreds and have her way with him. He shook his head slightly and said, "Everyone loves the amazing Molly Floyd and her beautiful imagination."

"Bobby," she moaned softly, taking the card from his hand and wrapping her arms around him. "Tell me more about how amazing I am."

He laughed and whispered, "You threw me the equivalent of a kids' ninth birthday party, just because you could. My dad participated in the pie eating contest. My mom learned how to line dance. Bradley almost popped a vein in his forehead. It was wonderful."

She sighed in contentment. "In four more years when you turn ten, we'll be in a bigger house, and we can host your party there. But we'll have to wait and see if you're still into cowboys or if your interests change, Kiddo. Now will you please open your present from me? And put on your cowboy hat? I've always wanted to suck a real cowboy's cock."

Bob grinned. "Molly, you suck my cock when I'm wearing my cowboy hat all the time."

"But you've never had assless chaps before."

Bob let out a strangled sound, and when he opened the box that was wrapped in cowboy paper, there were in fact assless chaps inside. "Please, please, please put them on," Molly moaned. "God, I feel like it's my birthday."

As soon as she started whining, he always gave her what she wanted. It was impossible not to. Five minutes later, Bob was standing in the middle of the bedroom wearing the chaps, his birthday shirt, and his old cowboy hat. Molly was panting and biting her knuckle, already obviously raring to go down on him, which just made him harder.

But she took a step toward him and then stopped, a devilish smirk on his face. "Now wait. I'm having a bit of a moral dilemma with you in that shirt. How old are you again?"

"I'm thirty-six," he replied blandly. 

"You sure about that, Cowboy Bob?"

"Molly! I'm thirty-six!"

"Okay, okay. Just checking," she said, reaching for the bottom of his shirt. "But let's just remove this anyway."

------------------------

I had a blast revisiting these two! I'm so deeply in love with Molly. I hope you enjoyed Bob's birthday celebration. Thanks for reading! And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

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[cubfan135-facts]

cubfan135 fact #21:

Hermitcraft season 6 featured an unknown individual known only as The Jingler, who conducted a series of pranks on several hermits. Those who fell victim to the Jingler's pranks were often referred to as being "#Jingled". Some pranks included (but are not limited to) vandalizing Grian's map room to say "You have been J-J-Jingled!!!", and leaving a mysterious book in Hermitville with coordinates that merely led to a sign reading, "GG You've been had! #Jingled".

The Jingler's identity was never revealed by the time Season 6 had concluded. Fans and hermits alike speculated their true identity for years. Many fans believed them to be Grian, however it was unlikely as Grian already had two prankster alter egos in Season 6, Poultry Man and The Salmon Ghost. GoodTimesWithScar was revealed to be the Jangler, a different entity entirely with no official ties to the Jingler. Rendog was suspected of being the Jingler for asking his viewers to "jingle that [notification] bell" at the end of his videos. Tango was also suspected of being the Jingler, as his returns to the server coincidentally aligned with the Jingler's pranks.

The most in-depth search for the identity of the jingler on the Hermitcraft server appears to be from Joehills. Upon checking the community mailbox, Joehills discovered a message from the Jingler left in every hermit's mailbox. Deciding that he could not let this devious behavior continue, he set out to follow a trail to reveal their true identity. He initially asks for the help of his viewers to gather intel from other hermit's videos, however this effort would prove fruitless as the Jingler carefully made sure to never reveal themselves on camera. Joe suspects a parrot by the name of Jingles to be behind the pranks, claiming that the parrot works for ConCorp. However, it is possible he was actually thinking of Captain Jack Sparrow, the CEO of ConCorp, and the lead seemed to come to a dead end.

The Jingler's identity was still unknown by the end of season 6, leaving both fans and hermits to speculate on their identity for years. Many began to believe there was no one true Jingler, but the hermits as a collective conducted a multitude of pranks under one common alias.

The Jingler's identity was finally revealed on April 23, 2022 on the Hermitcraft 10-year anniversary livestream. Cub admitted to being the Jingler, notably only after being asked directly by Jevin. Grian in particular was so distraught by the revelation that he joined the discord call from his mobile phone to comment on the situation.

Hermitcraft season 6 began in July of 2018, meaning that the identity of the Jingler was kept a secret for roughly 4 years. It is possible that this is the longest-kept secret in all of Hermitcraft history. The only known "evidence" of Cub being the Jingler is when he is seen during Impulse's Season 6 episode 32 asking if Grian has completed the infinity room. It is likely Cub was inquiring either to see if he could vandalize the map without Grian noticing, or to see Grian's reaction if the prank had already been carried out. Besides this small piece of circumstantial evidence, there was virtually no proof of Cub being the Jingler prior to April 2022. The most concerning detail in this story is, perhaps, the fact that the identity of the Jingler was only revealed when Cub was directly confronted by Jevin on stream. It is unknown if Cub ever planned to reveal the Jingler's identity on his own, and he very well may have intended to take this secret to the grave.

[thementalshawty]

PAC Who Is Your FS? Pt.1

Hey I am back with another PAC but I’m going to do something a little different this time. I will be doing 6 piles but they will be in a 2 parter because I want the energy of the 6 to be separated. So at the end of the day you can read this one and get the gist and the sec on part is confirmation or even extra information, the others can and will find their answers in one of the piles in either part one or two. This is a general reading so with that you know the deal, take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. So Picc an Emoji and let’s begin now.

Disclaimer: Tarot is not final but is a mere suggestion, don’t you depend on the opinion or suggestions of anyone to make your own decisions and judgement calls.

P1: 🍩

P2: 🍉

P3: 🥘

🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩

FS 1:

Animal that represents your FS: Crow Spirit. I feel like your FS off top is taboo, well for some of you here I’m hearing witches and warlocks as spouses in this pile, or maybe some of you are? Something about counting crows idk if they do that but I know that they definitely associate with crows in some way? They Cocreate with their spirit guides whether it’s aware to them or not. I told you some of them are witches and warlocks or are very powerful manifesters. They’re hella creative and they may have a Loud yell or call. They may have bird like features some of them. Something in them is Sharp? Like a sharp nose or a sharp stare??? Numbers: 1,7,8 & 17 may have some importance

Auset describing Your FS: Hapi Water Spirit. Numbers 1,3,4 and 13 could be of importance. I feel for some of you, your FS are water signs, mainly Scorpio and Pisces. They’re the type of person that needs to work energetically and with thought before making any moves. They’re definitely a planner and I’m hearing analyzer. This person wants nooooooo fuck ups! NONE HONEY!!! Baboons may have something to do with them too?? They need to visualize the moves for themselves before they do it. I’m telling you this is my alchemical pile right here, very very magical spouses, maybe you guys delve in magic too or should try it. If not you definitely them!

Describing Your FS (Oracle): Here & Now. Numbers 3,2,5 & 32 could have some significance. Some of your spouses are 32, I heard that not all but for some. They are not one to worry about the future or worry about the past, I heard they gotta plan for that already, they are just worried about executing the plan for today. They’re a very live in the moment and present kind of people. I see that they’re the type of person to get caught up sometimes and forget that though, cos being the planner that they are they do have worries about the future I feel in the past they weren’t as prepared and that shit caused them so much struggle and so from that day they wanna be prepared. This is a person who has plan b-Z if A doesn’t work. They are always present though, even when they worry about the future or the past they manage to always bring themselves back to the present cos they don’t wanna miss a thing. (Ha now I’m hearing that song by Aerosmith).

Your FS (Tarot): 9oPentacles, 6oSwords,Justice. You already know numbers 9,6,11,& 2 may have some importance to them. I feel that your FS are very accomplished, I feel it’s fairly new, they just acquired their success and blessings, they worked their goddamn asses for it! They aren’t a lazy person, they hate procrastinating but I feel they may do it sometimes which is why I feel they worked their asses off to get where and what they needed and it’s finally starting to pay off for them, matter of fact every single one of these cards sort of represent that, instead of telling me who they are it’s almost telling me what they’re going through, or what they’ve been going through and I think it’s because it’s a transformative time for them, they will be ascending and a lot of things that could describe them may be falling off so maybe your guides don’t want to fully share their personality because they’re experiencing their own experiences that’s showing them who they really are. I feel like they may like birds, crows, hawks Ravens etc. spiritually and materially they have just been blessed and they are enjoying every minute of it! They’re not missing a single second for the world! They have gone through way too much shit for them to not be anything other than present for this. They are FINALLY coming out of a dark place in their lives, they were in some drama mama! Some straight up chaos and that shit was so unhealthy it began to shut them down I’m hearing for some the others sort of just reacted angrily and it was so toxic they became spiritually and physically sick. I feel that they got some help to come in, and they were helped out by someone who moved them away from their toxic environment. I feel your FS are like that and I feel it’s cos they are compassionate, they know and understand struggle and they hate to see it. They could be a Libra due to the justice card of have Libra placements. They are the mediators of their group, I don’t see them having many friends, a selective few maybe some acquaintances that they laugh and joke around with but other than that nobody really close to them, I’m getting Lone Wolf and ranger type of vibes from this pile. They are someone who’s going to stand up for what they feel is true and fair and equal! They cherish and crave mutuality, if it’s imbalanced they not a fan. They honor equality and respect for all! They see everyone the same they don’t do favoritism and hatred towards anyone. They suffered. Some of your FS are Black, White, Some Asian/Korean/ Hispanic even too. I feel especially if you’re looking for women those ethnic backgrounds apply. Your FS has an ugly side tho, when unfairness or anything they feel is wrong or unjust comes out they are unmerciful. They can be ruthless if needed. Long hair for some, curly fros for others, black and brown hair colors I’m seeing. Gentleman and gentlewomen. Very soft but sharp features. True knights. Diplomatic and tactful, Hella charming. Playboys and women, they know how to bag a person! They’re very good looking, handsome, stunning, I’m even seeing gorgeous to some of you. It’s a very classy kind of beauty. Innocent and beautiful. They are quick to help out anyone they feel needs them and they’re not the type to swoop in and save the day assuming that needs to happen, they will always approach and ask “you need some help?” “Can I help you?” Perfect customer service representative honestly. They’re very sweet and kindhearted. Great smiles. They may be gardeners some of them, they like organic shit, they may not eat meat, or anything that has chemicals and toxic ingredients in food. They are very sensitive about what they put into their bodies. Smokers for some? (Weed not cigarettes or anything else). This person is a catch, a true victorious winner and they will treat you amazingly. Earth and Air placements especially Libra and Taurus! This person is Venus personified! Congrats! They’re hella seductive! I’m trying to find something bad on them honestly but it’s not working. They just fuccin rocc! Acts of Service is their love language.

I feel that. Congrats p1 you deserve it.

🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉

FS II

Animal that represents your FS: Bee Spirit. So I’m seeing that 7 could have some significance, as well as the colors Yellow and Black, which leads me to think that some of your FS are mixed races. They’re very hardworking and some of them are the queen bees lol. They have been striving towards something and sweet results are about to roll in for them. I feel like they’re very goal oriented, tunnel vision. This is my workaholic pile I feel, they are workhorses some of them, others are spoiled by others. They have stingers but only use them if they absolutely must. They work like a well oiled machine, no rest. They are around the clock nonstop movers and shakers and they’re about to be rewarded if they aren’t already.

Auset Describing Your FS: Set. Numbers 3,7, 10, 1 & 37 could have some importance to your FS. Set is the god of chaos and war, dirt and sandstorms. I feel your FS have dealt with a lot of challenges and they have some negative traits that you will not like, I’m getting Aries vibes from this. The color red is coming to my head, something about rage. They may have anger issues, they are a jealous person. Some of your FS are bitter from all the challenges they went through, life gave them shit and they kind of internalized it and became dreadful, survival mode on lock, they are so paranoid, they may have or had beef with a sibling. They could have jealous family members. Some of them could have just been dealing with some shit. They can be the youngest sibling or the issue is with the younger sibling. People are intimidated by them. Their demeanor is don’t fucc with me and people heed that shit. They could be 37 some of them, or 10 years older or younger than some of you? They’ve seen some ugly shit in their lives in love, family, career etc. I’m seeing drug addiction for either them or someone they loved and they dealt with that shit. This person is strong but it tainted them in the process I feel.

Describing Your FS (Oracle): Treasure Island. The number 9 could be of some importance to your FS. I feel like they’re the type to see the beauty in things others may not. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, they may have that mindset. They’re beginning to see the results of their own actions, they’ve been moving slow towards this goal that they’re about to receive. This person is a treasure and you’ll definitely see them that way! Great at manifesting, they’re right now working with the law of attraction. They just received a financial windfall from out of nowhere to them. They’re very abundant right now or they’re definitely about to be.

Your FS (Tarot): The Empress, 3oSwordsRx, & The HermitRx. I see that the number 3, 9, & 7 are frequent in this reading so I feel like those numbers in particular are very important to your FS. They can be a Virgo or a Pisces. They’re very intelligent and intuitive. Your FS is beautiful you’ll be blown away by their beauty. Especially if it’s a woman too! They can have braids or locs some of them. They’re very sweet and loving, nurturing and parental. They could have kids. They may love moon bathing some of them, or they should. They are of the world; hella creative and open to whatever the universe/god is bringing them. They are always coming up with new ideas and projects they are the type of people to have plenty of hobbies, a jack of all trades. They are very blended in their energies, and elements. I feel whatever they went through shaped them and helped them become whole but I just think that they can’t see it. They are the type to not know the magnitude of how much they rule!! They may shit on themselves heavily! They are the type to be there for everyone except themselves. They put themselves on the backburner. They are so amazing but they are the type to wallow in their pain and own ignorance. They don’t want to face what happened to them or they don’t want to take accountability for their part in it, so maybe they had an outburst but they will always come up with excuses for it. They are jaded over this pain, I feel it makes so much impact with how they live, move and make decisions. They are so strong but they are so blinded by this pain or by this anger, they really see nothing but that. It overpowers everything that they are and do. They need to do some shadow work. They procrastinate when it comes to it, they may avoid those feelings because they don’t want to relive that hurt but what they don’t realize is that they’re replaying this pain on a loop subliminally in their minds so they’re technically always reliving that pain! That’s why they’re so jaded, it’s like getting sick of a song but you’re leaving it on replay. They need to get out of their head. They’re in isolation, this person I feel has little to absolutely no friends. They were in some kind of abusive relationship. I don’t really wanna get into that. If they don’t have kids, they’re very fertile!! They barely go out, a homebody and I feel to a scary point and I don’t wanna get deeper into that cos it’s reminding me of myself and what I am having to break out of and baby that shit is no joke and putting that business on here without knowing them personally is just fucked up so I won’t. They have been through some shit but they are beautiful person, their heart is being pulled in so many directions and it’s so hard for them to catch a break and they are dealing with it in a toxic way for them and they need to face their demons. I feel they just need someone to talk too, but I have a feeling this person is locked tighter than a bank vault after a robbery. They aren’t into letting anyone see them, not even themselves, Ugh my heart goes out to them. Words of affirmation I feel is their love language. Fear avoidant attachment style, they’re Virgo like, the highs and lows of the sign honestly, I feel like some are Pisces and some are Virgos. Very feminine energy. They want love but they’re afraid of rejection and getting hurt cos that’s all they know, so they’re afraid to dream bigger and want better for themselves.

🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘

FS III

Animal that represents your FS: Pig Spirit🐽: The numbers 4,7,11,2,& 47 may have some importance. This is the kind of person who is quick on their feet, they give me air energy. They’re very intelligent. They’re not a messy person even tho they have messy moments. They’re fun loving and just want to enjoy themselves while they’re still on this earth. Happy go lucky type of people. They believe that pigs can fly, they dream big but they’re not delusional they understand the concept between reality and fantasy but they have a great imagination and they have big goals and aspirations for themselves. They wanna own the moon one day. They wanna fly the highest they can possibly get. They live on cloud 9!

Auset Describing your FS: Anubis. 3. He’s one of my guides!!!! I love Anubis he’s amazing! Your FS is such a great person! They’re very wise and give amazing advice. They take care of everyone, no favoritism with them, they treat everyone fairly, they judge by action, they feel like your hearts intention is based on how you move. You can protect on them to guide you whenever you need it, anyone who needs help, they are the one to call. So reliable and trustworthy, they may have a lot of people depend on them. Helping them transition from one state to the next. They can even be a therapist some of them, or the dr Phil/oprah of their group. They stand up for what they believe in and who they believe in. They’re a great protector. You will feel so safe, they feel like everyone should feel that way, “has the RIGHT to feel safe.” I heard that. Guard dog lover, they aren’t jealous but they won’t let just anyone get near you. They could’ve been abandoned by their parents (maternal esp if you’re looking for guy). They believe in healing of the soul by living out their passions. They believe that freedom to be yourselves is the best medicine. They want to get to know people for who they are at a soul core level. I feel they have GREAT FRIENDS. Certain LGBTQ 🏳️‍🌈 energy here, they created their own family! They love caring for others, they feel it’s part of their purpose, some nurses and doctors here. Therapist just doctors or medicators of some kind.

Describing your FS (oracle): A Leg Up. 3,4,7, & 34 could have some significance to your FS. They can be 34 some of them. I feel like they are the type of person to definitely lift others up, they aren’t selfish or greedy about shit, they will share their plate, cos they’re confident in their position. They themselves have received leg ups in life from people and they’re just passing on that energy. They’re not a jealous person at all they’re about progression. Sagittarius energy HEAVY! Sag and Aqua energy HEAVY! They’re very free loving. They’re very authoritative and they know how to delegate, they know how to both give and receive help. They’re not hyper independent they believe in teamwork! I love your FS! They’re my favorite! Shhhhhh don’t tell!

Describing your FS (Tarot): PageoSwords, 6oWands,& Judgement. They’re hella inquisitive and always asking about everything, they love to learn, very Gemini energy. They love to gossip with their friends, I also think that they’re the topic of gossip. Reading is everything to them. You’ll always catch their face in a book. Great conversationalist. Young at heart. Playful. They know how to multitask and juggle many things at a time. Their mind is always racing and they can’t turn it off. They’re a student of the world! They want to learn everything. The type who’s learning how to speak different languages. 6,2,& 20 may have some importance to them, some of your FS in this pile is 20. Some of you????? If that’s the case this is confirmation that you chose the right pile! I am seeing that your FS for some 2-3 maybe are celebrities like well known celebrities! No K-pop I don’t sense that here but I’m seeing some notoriety and some household names being here. The rest your FS is known in their field. Wildly successful and part of that has to do with their success story, how they came up and what they went through their hustle to mask it out of the “hood” or bad circumstances so to speak, they have brown hair, long, wavy, curly and straight, it varies I’m seeing. They are hella influential and inspirational to a lot of people, they’re extremely popular. An important person I’m hearing VIP. The it boy/girl. Everyone wants them, everyone wants to be them. They’re not cocky though, they’re all smiles and laughs, very joyous, I’m hearing for the celebrities, once you meet them and get to know them a little you’ll understand why they got fame. They’re so fun to be around. Fun and bubbly personality. They have loud voice. They’re very in demand. They know how to control a room. How to perform. They’re hella entertaining and I think they’re funny cos I’m feeling the urge to laugh and giggle. They may laugh a lot or giggle. You will find that cute. They’re not all about themselves, I see confidence but I also see that they’re a bit insecure too. They dress nice. They dress and look expensive. This is my glam and glitzy but humble pile. They’re such a fuccin joy. And they’re themselves regardless of what’s happening or who’s around. They are the essence of them and that shit is untouchable. They feel like people should see who they are, to love them and experience them to a full extent. They do enjoy the spotlight on them but I’m hearing they deserve it. They’re so litty. They remind me of me! I’m still feeling giggly and giddy, I feel this is how people feel around them (especially them celebs.). They are accepting too, they don’t judge, they’ve faced a lot of backlash and judgement from being who they are so this is the smack in their faces to your FS, their whole image can be about fuck society and their standards etc. I’m getting rocker energy from this pile so some of them can be famous rockers? I was getting the older numbers like 47, so some of you may have a FS in their 40’s, so what??? You’re all over 18 & you will know this person is your person, I feel this connection between you guys is that of a spiritual one. You can feel their spirit, it’s strong! Their presence is very powerful! This person is electric and everyone loves them! Nothing bad to say about this pile! Not really!

Alrighty my dearies! That’s it for part one of who’s your FS! Thank you for taking this ride with me and stay tuned for good ole part two coming soon!

Hope you have clarity!

Now Spread Love and Light!

EeeP Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 👋🏽

Heka 🕊️🏆

[ventismacchiato]

32 behind the lens — sad quotes bot !

scaramouche x g!n reader

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Almost a week has passed and you haven’t spoken a single word to Kuni in that time. You’ve been rather busy doing streams with your camera on but pretending to be okay with millions of your fans watching was beginning to look difficult. You received a few confused texts from Jean when she saw your reveal, but she didn’t question you further than that.

Class became burdensome as you could only stare longingly at the back of Kuni’s head. He arrived right on time and left without bidding your farewell. He never even turned his head in your direction. He wasn’t being outwardly mean but you’d rather have him yell at you then pretend you didn’t exist.

Childe had texted you that morning updating you on Kuni. He was in the same boat as you, ignoring his meals and plunging all his energy into work.

You follow him out of class that day.

It took you a while to find him, his monotone outfit blending in with every other student. But you eventually caught up and grabbed ahold of his backpack, causing him to stumble before turning back. He flinches at the sight of you.

“Hey,” you greet, “Can we talk?”

He reaches out to remove your hand from his backpack and shakes his head, about to turn around before you speak up once more. Desperate.

“Please?”

Kuni stares past you for a few seconds, an unreadable expression adorning his face.

“Didn’t I ask you to leave me alone?” he eventually says, his voice lacking any warmth it once held before. How could the same lips uttering such cruel words be the same ones that were on you skin mere days ago? Your stomach was sinking.

“Yes,” you lamely answer. It felt like you were being scolded like a child, “I just thought I’d check on you.” Screw Childe for giving you false hope.

“I don’t need you to check on me,” he spits, “I don’t need you.”

Now you were the one who flinched.

“You don’t mean that,” you eventually say as students mill past.

Scara opens his mouth to say something else but quickly closes his lips shut.

“I said give me time so I don’t say something I regret,” he sighs, “Bye,” he mutters and shoves past you.

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

typo in slide 1: toasting a poptart*

childe changed scaras wallpaper to nayeon to cheer him up :3

author’s notes — if you rmbr when i accidentally posted this no u don’t (gaslighting)

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @ins4nebish @stxrgxzxr @lilneps @uma-umie @kcbenis @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos [1/3]

[mxtxfanatic]

Just posting some svsss quotes from the extras:

After Luo Binghe finished reading, he said, “As for this disciple, he never could have forced you like this. If Shizun merely furrowed his brow, this disciple wouldn’t have been able to continue. How could I let Shizun sob like this yet still not stop? The depiction here is a bit unrealistic.”

Not only was it unrealistic... It was OOC. Completely OOC— OOC all the way off the map!

—Chapt. 29: Regret of Chunshan and Song of Bingqiu

Just for funsies:

“Luo Binghe, even though this master has allowed you to... I never allowed you all this variety,” Shen Qingqiu said in a warning tone.

Luo Binghe started. “Oh. This disciple understands.”

He looked a bit disappointed, but he didn’t push the issue. Now Shen Qingqiu was the one feeling uneasy.

Luo Binghe had never made any requests of him when it came to these matters. Because of his lackluster skill, he was always cautious in the extreme, and he even somewhat capitulated to Shen Qingqiu. Now he had finally acquired some instructional materials and found a bit of self-confidence, hoping to try them out together, only for Shen Qingqiu to toss a basin of cold water over his head...

Shen Qingqiu squirmed in his seat. After a while, he finally picked up his fan to cover his face and said with some reserve, “How do you want to do it?”

—Chapt. 29: Regret of Chunshan and Song of Bingqiu

And wow, would you look at that:

Their limbs were intertwined, both of them sticky with hot sweat. Luo Binghe’s waist and back shone with moisture, and Shen Qingqiu nearly couldn’t hold on with his legs alone, so he hooked his arms around Luo Binghe’s neck to stop himself from sliding down. This drew them even closer, until the space between them was practically nonexistent, and he left a smattering of passionate kisses on Luo Binghe’s face in encouragement.

—Chapt. 32: Wedding

It’s almost as if… Shen Qingqiu is an active participant in wholly consensual sex with his partner. As if… Luo Binghe isn’t coercing him into sex.

When he woke up the next morning, Shen Qingqiu’s first thought was that he wanted to smash himself to death against that extremely well-developed short-haired beast on Qing Jing Peak.

He swore up and down that he’d lost his entire life’s worth of face last night. He absolutely couldn’t suffer another moment more embarrassing than that!

—Chapt. 32: Wedding

It’s almost as if Shen Qingqiu’s only issue is that he thinks the loss of control he experiences as a result of his passion for his husband (!!!) is embarrassing—but an embarrassment he’s willing to live with in exchange for unconditional love.

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 28. perfect timing

chapter tags/warnings: therapist! toji. manipulative! naoya. toji defends you. naoya 100% has anger issues. infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.

word count: 3.8k

notes: hugs to everyone! been a while, and my busy days at work (plus straggling mental health) have not been doing me favors. writing, reading, and interacting with you all have been bringing me joy. i spent extra time on this chapter to make this piece what i hoped it would be. enjoy. 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.

Toji loved working on Sundays.

With his colleagues off, Sundays were the only day in the week when Toji could be the sole person in the therapy office. He appreciated the slowness that came with working on the weekends, allowing him to balance his time for scheduled appointments with unoccupied windows used to strategize and decompress.

He relished in the lull. The tranquility. The peace.

But alas, the serenity was cut short on this particular Sunday, as someone barged through the entrance like a wild boar, causing a rambunctious racket as the front door flung open with immense force.

The doorknob clanged against the wall, and Toji—sitting behind the reception counter—looked up from a patient file on his computer screen. 

With both curiosity and annoyance, he peered above his monitor. 

The black tips to blond hair. The sharp brown glare. The permanent frown. 

Who else could this have been but Naoya Zenin, presenting himself in the flesh?

The incomer’s expression consisted of nothing but antipathy as he bared his teeth at the doorway, his hands balled into fists by his sides. Based on how he glared upon seeing his older cousin, anyone could safely conclude that this man was beyond livid. 

Must he pester me on the weekend? Toji thought as he mentally shook his head, clucking his tongue faintly in disapproval. He had not seen Naoya ever since his official departure from the Zenin Corporation and household, which was months ago. From his recollection, the manchild before him had a fickle personality, bursting into immature fits that easily made someone younger (like his son Megumi) seem like the actual adult around. 

Given this, Toji legitimately did not understand how you had been putting up with Naoya as your husband. 

As for himself, Toji did his best to ignore the new presence, clicking his mouse as he resumed analyzing the file on his screen. He did not wish to spare a moment longer than necessary tending to the human tornado on his way. If Toji had wanted to deal with Naoya in person, he would have confronted him long ago. Rather, he had decided strategically to watch his cousin wreak havoc from afar to avoid interacting with his burdensome family. Everyone in the Zenin household, except for Mai and Maki, was not worth the aggravation that came with mere association. 

Now, especially with today’s booked schedule, Toji would not be able to make an exception to soothe Naoya’s upcoming tantrum.

On the other hand, Naoya had no better choice than to drag himself to his older cousin’s doorstep.

Had circumstances been any different, he also could not bother to see Toji again. He hadn't talked to Toji in months. Why would he? After many years of neglect and inferiority, Naoya finally achieved everything he wanted. 

Or so he thought. 

This was why, to face his estranged relative again—after recently learning that you had been seeing him for weeks—was a grand ego blow to Naoya, who could not accept the possibility that he was losing his reputation’s very foundation to the man he had envied all his life.

Recognizing the indignation that fumed from the current Zenin heir, Toji seized the opportunity to inveigle his cousin and greeted him with a cheer.

“Good morning!” he beamed, raising his hand in salutation. The scar by his lips flexed from his grin. “Do you have an appointment?”

Naoya scowled awfully.

"Great to finally see you again, Toji Zenin."

Immediately, the said man’s smile fell at his cousin's overly casual tone. "Woah, there,” he shot back. “Show some respect, will you? First, my last name is Fushiguro. Do not refer to me as Zenin. Second, calling me by my first name is bad manners. I'm older than you, kid."

Without question, the comment irked the blonde. Of all people in the universe, this was Naoya Zenin in question, a hubristic man who hated humiliation and the need to concede. His demeanor hardened with resentment while he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Fine, Mr. Fushiguro."

Toji quirked another smile.

Theoretically, he had no problem demanding more but decided to be nice by saying, “That’s better.” He locked his computer as he shifted his attention, crossing his arms as his back rested against his chair. “I haven't seen you in a while. Remember the days when you used to work here, too? Good times, hm?" All rhetorical chit-chat and pleasantries and, as expected, there was no response. "Well, I have only a few minutes to spare, after which I have business to attend. So...what brings you to visit?”

Another ironic question, as Toji already knew the answer. 

Over the phone, he had spoken with an irate Naoya who demanded to speak to his wife and have her back home. Despite his insufferable treatment toward you, the Zenin CEO could not stand how his apartment remained empty the past few nights, meaning he hadn’t gotten his dick soaked by his lawful spouse like he should be doing.

But then again, Toji thought, he already has a mistress to satisfy himself with.

Meanwhile, Naoya might as well be digging holes into his cousin’s skull from how his glower fizzed with malice. He opened his mouth, only to promptly purse his lips again to choose his reply carefully. 

“Did you make her see you?”

Quite a question.

Toji blinked rapidly through an empty stare. 

Where did that come from? 

“‘See me?’” he had to clarify.

In one smooth motion, Toji stood from his seat, his chair bouncing back slightly when he did. With his arms still folded over his chest, he meandered around the counter area that separated the client and employee zones in the reception area, stopping mere steps away from the younger man. 

Then, he repeated, “See me who?”

Naoya did not appear amused in the slightest.

His hazel eyes all but narrowed from vexation. The paroxysm of negative emotions on the blonde’s face made him appear ready to snap. Like a button ready to blast everything around him, he was close to letting his wrath take over. “Did you send my wife your therapist information just so that you could talk to her and figure out how to get revenge on me?”

What an oddly specific accusation.

“Why would I do such a thing?” It was more of a statement than a question, and Toji could see how his nonchalance profoundly irritated the other man. “She found me like how all my other therapy clients find me. But me reaching out to her personally merely to spite you? No. That's only some shit you would think to do. Unlike yourself, I'm not that petty."

Toji was blunt in his response, he knew.

In his defense, he would rather cut to the chase than beat around the bush. 

He no longer headed the Zenin conglomerate, but he still had a therapy practice to manage and a family to look after. With his packed schedule, every second mattered and he wasn’t the type to waste his time lingering around and dealing with non-important business matters, such as the grouchy kid with him.

His observations definitely blew a fuse within Naoya, though. 

"Excuse me?!" In two sharp steps, he closed the distance between Toji and himself, jabbing a finger into the other's chest. Bold. “You’re fucked, you know that? You’re so damn fucked," he hissed, and the edges of his mouth contorted into a derisive sneer. “You…You’re goddamn obsessed with Y/N, and you don’t even realize that! Give me a fucking break. You only give two hoots about the bitch because she’s my wife, but you don't actually give a shit about the woman herself.”

At that, Toji immediately swatted the hand from his pec.

“Incorrect, I do,” he retorted, his tone firm. “But do you care about her?” and he didn’t need to hear a response for that one, so he went on. “No, you do not. You know what? I found her situation sad because every time your wife talked about you, she told me about how you neglect and can’t satisfy her. This entire time, I was sorry for her precisely because I know the person you are. Fine, you call her your wife. What that means is she's not just a pussy for you to play with. You can’t just pick and choose different parts of her. But where were you when your wife was crying?” He paused briefly, letting his words sink into his silenced cousin’s head. “Where were you, hm? Where were you when she was upset? Anyone with eyes could’ve seen that she’s been having a hard time! But where?” and Toji gave Naoya one pointed glare. “Where…was her husband?”

In the sheets with an older woman.

Of course, that very husband would not admit that aloud, especially since he had yet to realize that his older cousin already knew about his affair with the other’s ex-wife. Instead, Toji saw Naoya twist his lips into a deeper frown.

“I have a company to lead,” was the excuse he spat out, and he ran both hands through his light strands in evident frustration. “I can’t believe our family thought that you were a capable leader. I, however, saw right through your facades, alright? Despite all your fucking degrees and licenses, you left the Zenin Corporation as a shithole for me to manage.” 

“No, I had set the company to run efficiently,” Toji retorted, keeping his levelheaded demeanor. “You turned the Zenin Corporation into—in your own words—a shithole. You decided to fire everyone I had hired. So currently, your managers are inept, your shareholders are unhappy, your daddy is getting angry, and the most convenient person to blame is me.” He shrugged dismissively. “Rookie mistakes. E for Effort, I guess. Luckily for you, Y/N is a good way to cover up the competence which you lack. Thus, she’s only useful when you deem her as such.”

Naoya scoffed, and his shoulders rose and fell with each enraged breath. “Because you don’t understand what a burden she can otherwise be. Besides, I can treat and use her in whatever way I please!”

He might not display this visibly, but Toji felt disgusted. 

“Don’t talk like you own her. That’s disrespectful. She's a person, not an object.”

"What—" Naoya paused, and his eyebrows creased in annoyance. "Who the fuck do you think you are? That woman is my wife.”

“Then treat her like one,” Toji shot back. While matching Naoya's hostility with his own, he could see the latter's eyes widen at the remark. Not that Toji paid him any mind, and he continued staring at his younger cousin with an unfazed demeanor that showed how willing he was to defend. "She might be your wife, but she is not your property.”

As if Naoya would care. 

Rather, he clenched his hands into tight fists by his sides. “You need to stay away from her. You’ve had your chances with marriages. Y/N is mine and not yours. I swear, if you talk about her with your gross lips again, I'll—" He stopped, as he wasn’t quite sure what would be a good threat. “I’ll—”

“You’ll do what, kid?” Toji interrupted, knowing just how pissed Naoya would get from every reminder of who the older person was and who the actual successor to the Zenin inheritance should be. “I’ll keep her since you can’t. You call her a burden, but I don’t find her to be one. I don’t know about you, but I like her. Have you ever had a civil conversation with her? She's sweet and quite interesting to talk to.”

The continuous comments unsurprisingly make Naoya bristle further.

“I said don’t talk about her like that!” he snarled. “Here you are, bossing me around and telling me to treat her better, but listen to how you talk about the woman! Holy shit, you're such a fucking creep.” 

“Me?” Toji repeated, appalled by his bravery to say those words. “Mind you, boy, she is the one who wanted to talk to me first. As her concerned therapist and the more mature adult, I believe I must listen to her complaints and make her feel better, especially when she keeps whining she’s not being fucked good.”

Naoya breathed heavily, his chest undulating while he boiled with rage. Yet, as the younger, more naive, and less physically adept challenger, he could not make himself fight back against the other man. “You...You don’t know shit, Fushiguro.”

Immediately, Toji arched a brow. 

“Really?" Was that supposed to be an insult? "I don't know shit?" This was hilarious! "Oh, boy. I know a lot of fucking shit alright. About ‘your wife’ or whatever you want to deem her, there is not a single chance in hell that she’d ever think about calling you her husband anymore.”

Naoya stared back, rather stupefied. 

In any other situation, he would simply take the remark as a cheap way to rouse him. Of course, talking about you would be the easiest route to do so. This time, though, Toji’s suspiciously happy visage as he retraced his steps to the counter and positioned himself comfortably against the surface had him uneasy. 

He did not like what the other man insinuated. 

"What...do you mean?" As much as he tried, Naoya could not hide how affected he appeared. “Our marriage is none of your damn business.”

Toji shrugged. "Marriage? What marriage? I don't see the rings on her finger, kid. Heard she tossed them. Apparently, you made her upset enough for her to take them off."

Without a better way to retaliate, Naoya clenched his teeth to signal his displease. “Ring or not, she’s still my wife,” he spat. “Plus, I do not want my wife around a womanizer like you.” 

Instead of taking umbrage from your husband’s words, Toji tossed his head to the side and let out a deep, harrowing chortle. “Wow! You’re one to talk," he rebuked. "The whole household used to joke about how you brought a different girlfriend to each of our family dinners. At the moment, you’re married, and what? You want your spouse to come home, but you then drive her away. You want her to be a good partner, but torment her when she does. Please, you are embarrassing yourself. Why don’t you make up your fucking mind?” With his emerald gaze returning to the younger man, Toji then added, “Now, if you excuse me. My next client is arriving and I have an appointment."

Still, Naoya was not ready to let the conversation end. “We’re not done. You think you’re all ‘high and mighty.’ But, you’re low, Toji. So, so low. Your last wife was a divorcee, and now you’re a motherfucker into married women, huh?” 

"So were you." 

"What?"

"Baby?"

And, in one go, all signs of life drained away from Naoya swiftly at the new voice. 

No fucking way, his expression seemed to read as he craned his neck around in rigid and robotic motions. Naoya had to blink twice to confirm the woman by the door before he placed his arms down and froze.

Mari, who returned the man’s aghast expression with perplexion, had her dark brows crinkled. “What…Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Even with Naoya’s face presently angled away, Toji could see his eyes widen at the ludicrous question. Yet, they both thought the same thing: did she forget where she was?

“What are you doing here? I did not expect you,” she continued. “But, I’m here for an…an appointment.”

Her voice trailed off.

When the woman finally seemed to remember that Toji was also there, her dark eyes rounded in alarm. Wait, her expression seemed to say as she very, very slowly dragged her sights to the man by the counter. Once her eyes met Toji’s, her jaw fell slack before she promptly slapped both hands over her gaping mouth. 

With the two visitors transformed into Medusa's stone statues, Toji took great gratification in the perfect timing. This coincidence far exceeded his expectations because he honestly did not anticipate ever being in the same vicinity as Naoya and Mari, yet here he was. Presented this chance, Toji pushed his bottom lip out in fake thought and furrowed his brows, pointing at Mari then Naoya then at Mari again. 

“Seems like you two know each other?” he asked in mock confusion, his finger swinging between the pair. “How come I didn’t get invited to the party? Has something been going on between my baby cousin and my ex-wife?”

No response.

So, he continued.

“What? Were you two spying on me or something?” (He knew the answer was yes.) “Or…wait,” and his voice dropped to a dangerous low, “Don’t tell me that you two…have been having an affair?”

Naoya—realizing the trap they had been set up in—swung his arm forward, prepared to defend them with whatever good lies he could spin (which Toji knew that he had a talent for), only for the woman to speak up first.

“We’re acquaintances.”

The manner in which Mari snapped caused Toji to pop a brow in surprise.

Oh? he noted. His suggestion on their illicit relationship appeared to strike a particular nerve. Even Naoya could sense the danger in his mistress’s overreaction as his eyes widened in horror. He tried to give her a warning expression, but she failed to see him. 

By the way, did Naoya, know that Mari—well—wasn’t very streetsmart? 

Maybe, but he likely prioritized keeping her in his bed to pay her absent wits any attention.

At this, Toji could not pass on the excellent opportunity to simultaneously provoke the two people who betrayed him. 

“Just acquaintances?” he pressed.

“Yes.” 

In another curt response, Mari pressed her lips into a firm line and shot Naoya a ‘shut the hell up and play along’ look, thinking she was slick when Toji only felt second-hand embarrassment from how utterly blatant the communication had been executed.

Pretending to nod along, Toji added, “Interesting. Because I never knew acquaintances called each other ‘baby.’”

Checkmate.

But the woman must not be thinking, as she sensed her inevitable defeat but hurriedly explained herself by saying, “It’s not what you think, Naoya and I haven’t had sex since—”

“Stop,” Toji interrupted before she could finish her sentence. That statement truly crossed the line. The lady must be inane. To talk about her dirty deeds with his relative as if that was appropriate! Clearly, she was oblivious to common sense and proper etiquette, given how she was desperate to try to save some face, resorting to the most crass justifications as if that would ameliorate the issue. Toji felt ashamed to think that he used to be married to this woman for years. While he noticed a fit of pique boiling within him, he ultimately let the ill feelings go. “I never asked about your sex lives. I don’t want to hear about what you two have been doing.”

Plus, the tabloids have shown him enough already.

Nonetheless, Mari’s face brewed with annoyance. She folded her arms firmly and tucked her chin outward. “Well, if that’s the case, then when and where I’m riding your cousin's dick should not matter!”

“Oh my fucking lord, stop talking already!” and this time, it was Naoya who spoke, shouting into his hands and cupping his face from sheer exasperation. He had been stunned speechless for a while but could no longer contain himself. When he picked up his head, he growled with rage as he raised a shaking finger at the woman. “You,” he seethed. “You’re saying all the wrong things! Holy fuck, bitch, how fucking blind are you? Unbelievable!” He leered to the side as if shaking off part of his rage, only to add on, “Just…Just shut the fuck up!”

The sudden, scathing comments soured Mari's mien in seconds. “Wait, but babe—”

“No.” Naoya cut her off right there. “Don’t ‘babe’ or ‘baby’ me with your bullshit anymore. Can’t you fucking see the atrocities you have fucking committed in the last ten minutes? You’re literally ruining my life! Even Y/N wouldn’t be stupid enough to say all the crap you just said! I should’ve never approached a dumb whore like you.”

While Toji had his eyes widened from silent bewilderment, tears began to roll down the woman's cheeks.

“That’s a lie!” For what must be her first time, she had to face the reality that, despite all the pleasure and company she offered Naoya Zenin after his tough days at work, he was an egotistical sociopath and a married man. "That's not what you've been telling me. You know I’m the only person who can make you happy, not the actual whore whom you have at home! These last few months, you would’ve been absolutely miserable without me!”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a reminder,” she hissed harshly. “You had said so yourself.”

At this point, Naoya found himself in the middle of a living nightmare.

To think about his wife who had been avoiding him for days, to see his loathsome cousin watch the scene like this was some sort of Netflix episode, and now to witness his mistress ridiculing him like a fucking fool.

“God dammit!” he roared. With animosity overwhelming his sanity, Naoya—who was already on the verge of destruction—only saw red as he lurched forward. He used his arms to sweep everything, all things, anything he could reach from a nearby tabletop onto the floor: a ceramic vase that shattered into shards, magazines that flew in all directions, a framed photograph that clinked upon descent. He didn’t stop there. Like a mid-tantrum toddler, he kicked angrily at the mess, sending paper and broken pottery flying in all directions without much regret for his actions. 

In fact, this was cathartic for him. Because the very thing he wanted was to make his cousin's world wretched, just like how the latter had done to him. 

“I'm going to find Y/N and bring her back to me, but if either of you…” the blonde warned several moments later, regarding the therapist and the woman with a deathly fire burning in his auburn eyes, “if either of you do more shit to ruin my life in the meantime, I...I will make you regret.”

With that, Naoya stormed off in a huff, releasing all the profanities that have manifested his anger throughout his life. Mari followed soon after, chasing after him in sobs.

Finally, as for Toji, well, he...was stunned.

He blinked thrice in the same second, processing what he had just seen.

He drew in a deep breath...

...and he chuckled.

He knew he looked crazy, laughing to himself in an empty and currently deranged parlor. However, Toji had not felt this triumphant and optimistic in years. He saw a hopeful gleam for himself, for his family, for his colleagues, and for you.

He picked up his phone with a languid grin, scrolling through his contacts and sending over a quick text when he found your name: Guess what?

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Throughout this fic, Toji and Naoya obviously have a very complicated and terse cousin-ship. For weeks and months, I have been thinking about how to orchestrate this scene, where we see them together for the first time...and with Mari too. Likes and reblogs are appreciated, and let me know in the comments how you all are doing!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @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 @arizzu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[strawberrystepmom]

repost - nsfw. cw alcohol, cw marking. f!reader, gojo and reader are in an established relationship.

The morning feels almost painfully bright as you lift your hand to your eyes to shield them with a defeated groan. Your temples pound and your eyelids still feel heavy, certain you could sleep for longer if you wanted to but the bedroom curtains are open, fresh warm light pouring across the bed.

You feel around your suspiciously empty bed before reaching to grab your phone and glancing at the time. 9:32. You’re supposed to be meeting Kento and a few of your other friends for brunch in two hours, a thought that makes your temples pound again, and your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. Closing one eye and keeping one open, you sit halfway up before flopping back down onto your disheveled pillows.

“Baby?”

Your mouth is dry and your voice rasps while pathetically calling out for Satoru who pops his head out from around the door frame with a smile so beautiful it hurts almost as much as the brightness surrounding you. He’s naked, of course, and your cheeks flame despite having lived this exact moment more times than you can count.

“Good mornin’, sunshine.”

Opening your eyes fully to take in the always welcome sight of his natural, nude form while he strides toward the bed, a gasp leaves you as your eyes fall on the purplish bruises around his neck and chest.

He chuckles, flopping down onto the bed and resting the back of his head on your thigh. Tipping his head back you see a pink bite mark on the column of his throat and embarrassment boils in your gut remembering exactly how that got there.

“You have to heal those before we leave,” your voice sounds not merely raspy and pathetic but whiny now as you reach down and stroke the damp strands of his hair off of his forehead. He has obviously been awake long enough to have showered, there’s no reason why he should not have already used his reverse cursed technique to fix himself up.

“That’s not what you were saying last night, princess,” he flips onto his stomach but places his cheek to your thigh so he can watch your reaction to everything he says. You’re never more his than when he’s flustering you and he likes to see the fruits of his labor. “I seem to remember something along the lines of ‘fuck I can’t stop’ and ‘you’re mine’ but correct me if I’m wrong.”

You simply cannot correct him because he isn’t wrong.

The evening started with opening a bottle of wine and pouring two glasses - one for you and one to sit in front of Gojo to keep him from feeling left out that would inevitably be finished by you.

After that, the memories of last night become tinted with the hungry haze of want. Heat in your belly, heat in your chest, heat through all of your limbs - the wine took over quicker than it usually does but he would be a silly man to complain about being wanted like a predator craves her prey.

You climbed into his lap on the couch and rode him until your thighs shook, his face pressed against the side of your neck and the beautiful plushness of your ass spilling through his fingers while he kept you steady.

This wasn’t enough to sate you, though and he knew it. You were already whining and begging for more before he could even soften inside of you.

“Starting to think I’ve spoiled you,” he tutted while standing and helping you wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him inside of you for the short trek back to your bedroom. It took him only a moment to place your back on the bed, his big hands spreading your thighs and his tongue flattening over your open, warm, wet cunt until pure fire coursed through your veins.

“Satoru,” you whined, pulling his body down until his chest pressed against your tits and you nuzzled your face in his neck. “Still want you, baby.”

Burying your face against his neck, you began to suck little bruises into his soft skin, biting little visual reminders of your love for him into his body. He didn’t even have to fuck you again to cum, instead spilling all over your stomach as you growled various delirious chants about him belonging to you and wanting to make sure everyone knew it.

The memory makes your thighs squeeze together with want, your tipsy haze forcing you to speak the truth that lives in your heart, but you look down at him again, a necklace of purple across his skin and you whine.

“Please,” you beg. “They already think I’m a degenerate.”

Satoru smirks, wiggling further up the bed to rest his cheek on your bare stomach and inch his fingers up your side. He isn’t the slightest bit embarrassed about the swath your lust left across him, if anything it’s the proudest thing he has ever worn, but he’ll let you have your way yet again. Denying anything you ask for just simply isn’t in him even if you do end up a little overindulged.

“You are,” he raises his eyebrows suggestively and you scoff, “but I’ll let you pick which one stays because I’m a nice guy.”

He slides further up your body until his chin rests on your bare tits, big hands cupping each of them and making you hiss through your teeth. He presses them together with a pout, looking up at you through his lashes.

“Don’t let your hard work go to waste.”

You lift your hand and run your index finger down his neck and collarbone, or at least what you can see of it, before stopping on the one you think he can hide the most. The bite mark on his neck. He feels the pad of your fingertip linger over the spot and smiles, releasing your breast from one of his hands to wrap his fingers around yours.

“How’d you know that’s my favorite one?”

Giggling, you shake your head and try to pull your finger out of his grip but he only tightens it playfully. You tug with an exaggerated groan and he lets go, letting his hand drop to your side where he tickles your ribs once and sits up. The bruises begin to fade in a second and you laugh despite having seen him do this dozens of times.

There’s something so specifically surreal about a man who can heal his own bruises insisting he sport the indentation of your teeth on his skin, the mark pearly and pink even this morning. You can’t fault him for wanting to show off how badly you want him at least a little bit, knowing you’ve done the same on more than one occasion.

It feels special to be wanted by him and it’s near ecstasy to be needed.

By the time you rise from the bed yourself, wobbly but otherwise fine, he is looking the same as he always does and relief washes over you as you head toward the shower.

As predicted, three cross glances are directed at you after you sit down, each of your friends catching the way Satoru has kept his shirt unbuttoned just enough to make sure the bite mark is completely visible to anyone who would dare to look.

[munsonthings86]

we've been celestial even before this

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after she has a particularly rough day, steve takes his girl stargazing

warnings: cursing, fluff, soft!steve, established relationship (but still fairly new), oversimplified summary, reader depicted to be nineteen, these two being the biggest lovesick idiots for each other

an: i've been having a lot of fun writing about these two. they own my entire heart. hope you guys enjoy this one * don't copy my work *

wc: 6.1k

steve and sunshine's timeline

The trembling flame of the Coffee House scented candle illuminated your messy bedroom in a flickering, warm, honey light. The smell of the candle resembled nothing of coffee, more like hot cocoa or caramel you thought, but it did its job of calming your rattled nerves, nonetheless. Most of your wooden floor was hidden beneath neglected pieces of clothing that you'd pulled from your closet in a hopeless attempt to string together a decent outfit that morning. I'll tidy up tomorrow, you shrugged, though knowing you, there was a high possibility that "tomorrow" would turn into next week.

Procrastination was a terrible habit of yours, and the tension that the day left you with was doing very little to diminish it. Your early morning shift at Family Video was borderline torturous; Keith saw to that when he scheduled you sans Steve and Robin and had two inept new hires shadow you. Sure they were nice and all, from what you can recall anyway, but you were too out of it to bestow on them the patience you typically had.

Once the stint came to its much desired end, a dreadful date at the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles awaited you. In your venture to become more of an independent and responsible "adult" (being merely nineteen, the word made your blood run cold), the goal of obtaining your permit was set in stone. The written test was passed with flying colors, but like any classic BMV nightmare, you'd forgotten a required document to actually get the damn permit.

Nearly plunging to your knees, you begged the grumpy old woman behind the counter to let you run back to your apartment that was “just down the street”. Truthfully, it was a thirty minute trip on foot, but she didn't need to know that. If you ran, you could make it back in twenty.

But, again, like any classic BMV nightmare, all she left you with was a hardly sympathetic, "Sorry ma'am, but if you don't have all the required documents, I'm afraid you'll have to come back tomorrow. The office closes in fifteen minutes." Through clenched teeth, you thanked her for her time, though she neglected to return the gesture, squawking "Next in line!" in a tone that was poles apart from her customer service voice.

Mercifully, your day wasn't all terrible. On the way back home, you stopped by the library to return a week's long overdue book and, instead of crucifying you for it, the lovely librarian recommended a novel she thought you'd appreciate. Rose in Splendor by Laura Parker. Unbeknownst to her, you'd been dying to read it ever since it was published last year. The grouch over at the BMV could definitely take a page out of her book. No pun intended.

Curled into bed and tucked under your beloved ivory crotched blanket, you thumbed along the pages through gravelly, blurry eyes. You kept promising yourself "one more page", but that was well over ten pages ago.

The male love interest was recounted having perfectly tousled brown hair with a body to die for, and you couldn't help but to think of your Steve. You missed him terribly in that moment and the one thing that kept your woe at bay was the anticipation of you two's nightly phone call. It was the selling point of all your days spent without him, truth be told.

The chime of the landline in the hallway between your kitchen and bedroom pierced through the otherwise silence of your apartment, prompting you to glance at the clock on your wall. 9:32 p.m.

Speak of the devil.

Folding a little doggy ear onto the page to preserve your place, the blanket keeping your legs warm was tossed among your strewn out clothes as you nearly slipped, scurrying to answer the phone. You couldn't bite back your smile as you pressed the receiving end against your ear, hearing the music that was Steve's voice, fill your mind.

"Hi, sunshine."

A breath that was unknowingly caged, freed itself at the sound. "You're nearly on time," you teased, referring to earlier today when Steve promised to call you at 9:30 sharp tonight. Usually, he called you earlier than this, but he was jammed with babysitting duties for the six kids you were considering adopting for yourself at this point.

"I know, I'm sorry," he chuckled. "They finally fixed that game at the arcade that's been down for the past few weeks. Gaga, I think it's called."

"Galaga," you corrected, giggling to yourself. It wasn't a rare occurrence whenever the kids would drag you along on one of their many hangouts, so you were rather well-versed in their nerdy recreations. "Yeah, that's the one. I could barely pry their grubby little hands off the thing. Especially Dustin."

Based on his tone, the roll of Steve's eyes as he spoke was nearly audible. As much as he complained about constantly having to be the one to look after the party, there was a part of him that covertly loved the fact that they depended on him so much. Not only was it somewhat of an ego boost, but he's always dreamed of having little nuggets of his own to protect and guide and treasure.

The daydream of Steve being the ideal father, unlike his own dad ever was, reeled your bottom lip between your teeth as the cord of the landline fell into the trap of your twirling fingers. It was so vivid; a shirtless Steve wearing blue jeans that hugged his bottom so perfectly, driving a rackety lawn mower along the wild grass of the front yard to the house you may or may not have pictured the pair of you living in.

In that utopia, the children that you may or may not have pictured parenting with Steve, sat behind the lemonade stand that was built by their father, giggling and toying with a leaky hose as they awaited customers. You'd be watching your little family from the boxy window of the kitchen, fixing them an afternoon snack, unable to contain your laugh when the hose goes haywire, soaking your lover from head to toe.

The imagery made you giggle out loud, head falling against the wall as your stomach cramped. "What?" Steve asked, laughing along with you though it's purely out of instinct, because of course he didn't know what you were laughing about. But hearing your audible delight was contagious. He couldn't help it.

"It's nothing," you assured, smiling softly before continuing, "just hoping your day was better than mine was."

"Well I don't like the sound of that," he frowned, sneakers squeaking against his floor as he shifted his weight onto his other leg. He watched as the days worth of dirt that'd found solace on his shoes, abandon patterned scuffs on the wood. Memories of the pointed sound of his mothers voice demanding no shoes in the house rang through his head like a siren at the sight. He would've ditched his footwear at the door, but he knew he was running late for his phone date.

"What happened?"

Commencing your response with a weary sigh, you shrugged, laughing dryly, "A lot. It's not even funny how exhausted I am right now."

Steve's chest tightened. He hated when you had a bad day; it left a bad taste in his mouth. Even worse, whenever Steve would make an effort to get to the bottom of what ailed his girl, he had a less than impressive success rate, seeing as vulnerability was one of your shortcomings. Steve knew better than to pry. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to do his damnedest to make these final hours of the day your best.

"I'm sorry to hear that, honey," he lowered his head, offering a comforting smile that though you couldn't see, you could hear in his voice. "'S alright," he heard you murmur.

It fell silent for a beat before Steve inquired, "When are you comin' home?", to which you furrowed your eyebrows, letting out a confused chuckle. "Uh, I am home."

Jokingly, the boy scanned his apartment and though he saw some of your forgotten belongings from previous visits, he couldn't seem to pinpoint you. "That's weird, I don't see ya. You hiding somewhere?"

The laugh that erupts from your core at your sappy boyfriend is inescapable. Your shoulders quake as you snicker and Steve's never heard a sound so sweet. Mission accomplished. For now, anyway. "You're an idiot."

"For you, yeah," he retorts, "thought we already established that." The apples of your cheeks are growing sore as Steve's honeyed words denies your smile the chance to falter. Any inconvenience that was precedent to this very moment was long forgotten by virtue of the prince charming that was your boyfriend.

"I'll come see you soon, lover boy," you quipped.

"You makin' fun of me?" He was completely unoffended. Prior to the few weeks of you dating, Steve spent the better part of the past decade containing his cascading love for you behind the dire dam of the friendzone. Despite delay, the dam was broken and there was no playing "Mr. Cool Guy". Steve was crazy about you. And he'd be even crazier to not show it.

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't," you teased. "I'm gonna head to bed, though. I have another shift in the mornin'. That damn Keith," you rolled your eyes, groaning as Steve laughed through his nose.

"Alright, sunshine, I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," you glowed. "G'night, Stevie." You waited for him to respond with a "goodnight" of his own before returning the phone back to its base, already pining for your boyfriend's presence again. Though you poked fun at it, what Steve said about you not being "home" wasn't just him being sappy. You were feeling the same way.

No matter where you were, whether it was school, work, the arcade, shit, you could be in the Upside Down, but as long as Steve was there, you felt at home. It made you reflect on the times where you'd be lying in bed, unable to slip into a slumber as you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to go home, though geographically, that's exactly where you were. It was because you missed Steve. And any place where he was absent, was no home of yours.

Sauntering back into your bedroom and kicking away garments to clear a path, you cocooned your body into the blanket that was now stained with the scent of your burning candle, and continued from where you left off in your book. You figured you'd make some decent progress to hopefully avoid another late fee at the library.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It'd been forty minutes later, give or take, when you stood on sore legs, cleansing and moisturizing your face before calling it a night. Your dull eyes wore dark and heavy circles like a hideous skirt, a clear manifestation of the fatigue you were weathering. You rubbed at them unkindly with the hopes of looking even a little more lively, but to no avail.

The bulb of the bathroom went out like a flame once you flicked the switch off, and you abandoned the journey back to your room at the sound of a series of knocks to the front door. Clasping the opening of your robe with shaky hands, you wondered who could be here at this hour. You weren't expecting any visitors. Approaching the door with hushed footsteps, a miniscule view of none other than Steve Harrington could be seen through the peephole of your door.

The tension in your shoulders dissipated, ribs doing their best to cage your fluttering heart. You squealed, fingers fumbling with the lock and you could swear the metal thing had something against you, the way it stalled to unlatch. Steve smiled from the other side of the door as he watched the knob twist and jangle, warmed to know that you were just as eager to see him as he was to see you.

The brown lettering that labeled the white entryway '2F' swung out of view and Steve made eye contact with you for a split second before stumbling back a bit when you threw yourself into him.

Elevating yourself with the tips of your toes to reach him, you trapped his neck between your arms as he returned your hug with one arm, the other remaining properly tucked behind his back. "Hello to you too," he laughed breathlessly before briefly stamping a kiss to your shoulder.

"What're you doing here?" you buzzed, pressing little pecks to as much of his dotted skin as you could. You were suddenly a ball of energy. Finally at home. "When you said later, I thought you meant, like, tomorrow or something."

"Well, I missed you," a kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Wanted to come see ya."

The smile he wore carved thin lines into his cheeks as he spoke, walking your tangled bodies back into the quietude of your apartment. He stopped at your cutesy welcome mat, kicking his shoes off before revealing his arm that held a bouquet of just about the prettiest flowers you'd ever seen.

"Steve," you pouted, releasing your hold on his shoulders, "they're gorgeous." Cradling the peach hued roses dressed in a newspaper-style wrapping paper, your eyebrows scrunched together as you reminded yourself of the time. "What florist is open at 10 p.m.?"

The boy chuckled, locking the door behind him. The plaid pajama pants he wore swung loosely on his legs as he approached you. "There isn't," he ran fingers through his disheveled hair that was long overdue for a trim, "I saw them while I was out with the kids and I thought of you, so I got 'em." He shrugged like it was nothing.

"I was gonna surprise you with them at work tomorrow, but I figured I'd just give 'em to you now, ya' know, all things considered."

Heat rushed to your chest and face as you ogled him, filled with an overwhelming sense of luck to be his. Your feelings toward him felt so immense that at times, you could barely articulate yourself. Words of love and adoration raced through your mind a million miles a second yet you always found yourself terribly speechless.

Steve was so open with his affection for you. It’s a love people pray to experience at least once in their lifetime. And what a heaven-sent gift it was to earn that kind of love from Steve.

These would look perfect by the living room, you thought, turning to the kitchen to retrieve a vase after slipping him a fleeting kiss.

Scouring the white cabinets, you almost failed to remember that you didn't particularly own a vase, given the fact that you'd never actually received flowers before. The realization dejected you a bit.

Steve trailed behind you mindlessly, a frown weighing on his lips as he watched your shoulders droop. Leaning against the space on the counter next to you, he slid down a little, leveling with you, "What's wrong, honey?"

A mumbled, "I've never gotten flowers before," left a pang in his chest, your eyes never leaving the shelves of your cluttered cupboard. "Never needed a vase before."

It was now Steve's turn to slump his shoulders while he gazed at you with sad eyes. How could someone so lovely, so divine as you, not be treated the way you deserved? He would buy you flowers every day if you wanted and he had to bite his tongue when he almost cursed himself for not doing it already. But it's okay. He was here now.

Luring your waist into his body with those burly hands of his, he spoke with assurance laced in his voice, "Well, that's okay," he cooed. "Here, use one of these for now," he pulled a mug that you would've otherwise had trouble reaching, as it sat on the very top shelf, "and tomorrow we'll pick out a nice pretty vase for ya'."

Filling the black cup with water, he planted the roses down as neatly as he could. The flowers sat in the mug awkwardly, all splayed out with the stems way too long for your liking. But somehow, it still managed to be nothing short of perfect. "Cute, a little weird," you shrugged, a smile teasing your mouth, "but cute."

Steve chuckled lowly, situating himself between your legs once you sat on the surface of the tile countertop. "That's funny."

"What is?"

"I said the same about you when I first met you," he laughed, unable to contain his smile before getting the joke out. The face you made didn't help. "Shut up, Harrington," you jab at his shoulder softly, cracking a smile of your own.

Though there was a newfound romance, the typical banter that was mutually exchanged wasn't going anywhere. You were glad that nothing changed between you when you started dating.

Toying with the drawstrings on Steve's Gap hoodie, you began zoning out, the thought of going to bed while cuddled up with your boyfriend, sounding all too alluring. Looking up at him, he was already intently staring at you with painfully adoring eyes and you couldn't help but melt under his heated gaze. "Hi," you muttered, shyness clouding you.

"Hi, sunshine," he smiled, adjusting the collar of your robe with careful fingers. "I'm sorry your day sucked."

"It doesn't, anymore," you replied, sincerely. Steve's eyes lit up at that. It wasn't a secret to anyone that his presence alone seemed to be the antidote for some of your worst days. You'd even admitted it yourself, once or twice. But it never failed to ignite the nerves in Steve's body with fervor.

Although you were completely honest that your mood had gone up about ten octaves since he'd been there, Steve didn't want to just be there. He wanted to do more. It was what you deserved.

"You up for a little adventure?"

"Depends," you squinted. "What kinda adventure are we talking about?" He shifted his weight onto his other leg as his eyes veered off to the ceiling, thinking.

Steve happened to have a few tricks up his sleeve.

"There's somewhere I wanna take you," he drummed a rhythmless beat on your thigh with his fingers. The sneaky expression on Steve's face told you everything you needed to know. He was up to no good. As much as you wanted to go on a late night escapade with your boyfriend, you had to be somewhat, even a little, responsible.

"Steve, it's late and we both have work in the morning," you huffed, losing your grip on the strings you'd been distracting yourself with.

Steve playfully rolled his eyes, flinging his body out of your clutches dramatically. He was going to get you to cave. Whether you already knew it or not. "Alright, grandma, I promise to have you back home at a reasonable hour. Deal?"

The internal battle on whether you should stay or go was evident in your features, though, realistically you had already come to the conclusion that you'd humor him. The "grandma" bit is what really did it for you.

"This is a dumb idea."

"I'll be waiting by the car," he smiled an accomplished smile before leaving the kitchen. Letting out another sharp exhale, you hauled your body off the counter and headed towards your bedroom, discerning that a robe probably wasn't the dress code for wherever it was Steve was taking you.

Concealing your underlying tank top with a hoodie almost similar to Steve's, you threw on some sneakers before snuffing out the diminishing candle. Giving your appearance a once-over in the mirror, you wondered what you'd just gotten yourself into. Though any time with Steve was time well spent, you couldn't help but to look at your bed longingly as you shut off the lights to your apartment, meeting Steve outside.

He stood by the passenger side of the car, fiddling with a loose thread by the end of his sleeve. The fall season brought a night frigid breeze that blew his hair over his eyes like a curtain, making him pout. You hugged your body as you neared him, brushing his brown tresses from his face, though the wind reversed your efforts in no time.

He pressed a kiss to your palm as he became a puddle under your touch, appreciating the way your toasty hand felt against his icy skin. Steve took his own turn rubbing at your arms when he saw you visibly shiver, teeth nearly chattering. "You wanna tell me where we're goin'?" Misty clouds left short-lived trails in the air between the two of you when you spoke.

"Now where's the fun in spoiling the surprise now?" He opened the car door to punctuate his sentence, gesturing you inside. You could only rebut with a roll of your eyes as you entered, though you and Steve both knew you were loving every bit of this. It warmed your heart knowing he was so keen on saving your day from the horror it started it out to be.

Digging through the glove compartment, you sifted through old receipts and other rubbish that really needed to be thrown away, searching for the mixtape you and Steve made for little times like these. Moments that may now seem small, but would soon become memories that you'd cherish for years to come. It served as a little time capsule; hearing the songs you two carefully picked, easily transporting you to these times even when you'd become gray and old.

As Steve began driving off, your fingers found the sneaky cassette that was scribbled with yours and Steve's initials along with doodles of suns, to represent you, and poorly drawn anchors in honor of Steve's Scoop Ahoy era, to represent him.

Regardless of Steve's slight disdain for that period of time, it was one of your favorites and obviously that was due to the fact that the uniform he wore, showed off his legs in the best way possible. It was the perfect eye candy that summer.

The low sound of Bob Marley singing Could You Be Loved floated through the quietness of the car, easing away any tension within you that might've still been trapped. You admired the way the town was so still. The time was hardly 11 p.m., yet there wasn't a soul to be seen; only lonely litter that drifted through the breeze, aimlessly. It was a stark difference from just a few hours ago when you had to dodge shoulders as you cut through the crowded streets on your way home.

The sky was dark and empty apart from the glowing crescent moon that seemed to be chasing you as you drove. It was the only light source you had aside from the street lights that lined the sidewalks. You started counting them and even got to as far as nineteen, but soon lost count once Steve picked up his speed a bit.

Your eyelids threatened to close as the calming drive coupled with the music, fought to lull you to sleep. But instead, bright neon lights stung your sensitive eyes that grew accustomed to the darkness. Squinting, you read the colorful sign labeled "Darling's Diner", and nostalgia strikes you. It had been years. Too many years since you and Steve had been here last.

"Holy shit," you glimmered, hurriedly unbuckling your seatbelt. Steve's hand that found comfort on your thigh during the ride gave it a squeeze before he put the car in park, rushing over to open your car door. He took your hand in his, adoring the way your stunned face gleamed under the glow of the pink and blue neon bulbs. "Surprise," he cheered in a low tone, lightly bumping his shoulder against yours.

The smile you had burned your cheeks but the elation you felt made it all too easy to ignore. The feeling you got whenever you came to Darling's was something indescribable. There were countless fond memories attached to this place and it left you all soft and gooey inside to know that Steve planned on making more with you here. Instinctively, you practically dragged Steve behind you as you rushed inside, the homey scent of burgers, fries, and shakes wafting to your nose.

The floors were still the black and white checkered tiles you remembered them to be; stained with drops of grease and sprinkled with deserted fries. Walls were not much neater, though they were messy with posters and vinyl records instead.

"Want the usual?" Your nod was immediate and shortly after, Steve approached the busy woman impatiently pressing buttons on the register. Wisps of hair fell out of her ponytail and clung onto the film of sweat developing across her forehead. She visibly shrunk into herself as she heard the bell above the door ring, signaling new customers. It was a much busier night than usual.

Regardless of the surge of patrons, the booth you and Steve usually sat in once upon a time, wasn't occupied. The wears and tears corroding the red leather almost served as a name tag, assigning the seat for you two. It was impossible to forget the days Steve came here with you after school, carelessly doing homework while listening to whatever song played on the jukebox.

The table was tidy apart from laminated menus and coloring sheets scattered across the surface. You smirked thinking of the times you and Steve swore you could be the next Picassos, the way you took those things so seriously. As if they'd be hung in museums, you did your best to color them, but not without the added challenge of switching papers with Steve every few minutes. A fun little game you played.

Colored pencils sat by the condiments and you made yourself busy adding hue to the Back to the Future poster, sliding Steve a sheet with some random sports car you didn't know the name of, when he made his way over. He traded you with a cup of hot cocoa with jumbo marshmallows that threatened to abandon ship. "Thanks, Stevie."

"Anytime," he smiled, biting at the cherry that was kissed with a touch of the whipped cream that sat atop of his strawberry milkshake. His long legs brushed against yours as he sat next to you, knees finding mutual rest against each other.

A waitress on pink roller skates offered a kind smile as she brought over a basket of fries that Steve and you snacked on while you chatted and giggled, coloring your own and each other's papers as time seemingly flew by.

"How long has it been since we've last been here?"

"I couldn't tell you. Anything before senior year is such a blur," you responded, adding finishing touches to Steve's car before taking the last sip of your now barely hot, hot chocolate. "I'm just sad we stopped coming here."

"Me too," he swung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for an apologetic kiss to your temple. "But I promise to bring you a little more often. It was our spot when we were kids and it'll be our spot now."

You looked at him with bright eyes while hugging his torso, despite the awkward position. Trying to understand what you did to deserve someone like Steve was a dead mission, as you could never fully wrap your head around it. How does one try to understand why they've gotten so lucky?

He kissed away the marshmallow mustache idling on your upper lip before tapping your leg twice, "C'mon, we've got one more stop to make."

The spot he sat in was quickly losing its fever as he stood, holding a hand out for you to take, but you just stared at him with a face that was an odd marriage of scolding and amusement. "Steve," you warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you can yell at me about it later. But I promise you'll love it." Waving his hand to urge yours into his, you accepted it with little hesitation at his grin. You wished the woman at the front a good night as you left the bistro, while Steve dropped a tip in the jar next to her.

He didn't let your hand go until you were sat in the passenger seat, subsequently getting behind the steering wheel, inserting the key in the ignition. You could tell Steve was tired too, the way he full-body stretched as he yawned, rubbing at his eyes that were getting a bit red from fatigue. He wanted to go to bed and cuddle and forget about the world just as much as you did. So why were you still out there?

"What's all this for, Harrington?"

He answered your question with another one of his own, "What's all of what for?"

"Tonight. Everything. The flowers, the diner, and now something else. I'm really grateful for it, don't get me wrong," you warmed his hand when you held it, "but why so much?"

Steve shrugged, averting his gaze to the gear shift sitting between you two. He softly rubbed at your knuckles while he gathered his thoughts.

"Well, you told me that you had a shit day. Just wanted to change that. I like when you're happy."

Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself and your chest stung when tears pricked at your eyes. Steve looked back at you affectionately, the voice of his eyes telling you just how much he cared for you. It made your heart so full. It was too much to handle sometimes.

"I like when you're happy too, Stevie," you beamed, blinking away the pool by your bottom eyelashes. Cupping his cheek, you pushed your plump lips against his that were a little chapped, though you didn't seem to mind at all. Reluctantly, you pull away and Steve doesn't think it was nearly long enough as he sneaks in a few extra pecks.

The drive to wherever on Earth it was that Steve was taking you, was much different compared to the one prior. It almost didn't look like Hawkins. For the past couple miles, Steve's burgundy BMW had been the only car on the road. The trees were taller, a darker green and stronger in numbers than the ones you were used to. The street lamps were less abundant and dimmer than usual, and the animal crossing signs told you that you were more than just a little ways from home.

You had almost said something until Steve pulled off to the side, parking the car on an empty hill just off the road that overlooked Hawkins and the neighboring city. It looked so small from here. Steve smirked at the puzzled expression you threw his way as you removed your seatbelt.

"Before you ask, just come outside. There's something I wanna show you."

You didn't bother waiting for Steve to open the door for you, as you stepped out, attempting to conjure up what he could possibly be wanting to show you out here. There was nothing to be seen but dirt and fallen leaves and branches. "What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Look up," he responded, leaning against the hood of the car.

Your furrowed eyebrows relaxed as a gasp fell from your lips at the sight of the cloudless sky, lighting up with numerous twinkling stars, an image you could only dream of seeing for yourself since you were a little girl. The mighty city that sat so close to Hawkins fostered light pollution that made it nearly impossible to see the stars at night. If you were lucky, you were only able to make out about one or two, though you weren't sure if they had been stars or planets, instead. Either way, it ignited your soul to be able to see such a bright and beautiful piece of the universe, making you feel so small in the best way possible.

That didn't nearly amount to this very moment though, where there were more stars that you could count, sitting so prettily in the midnight sky.

Mouth still agape, you utter, "Steve, it's beautiful," and other than that, you were rendered speechless. You couldn't dare to tear your eyes from it, worried that if you did, it would all disappear, proving to be a mere hallucination from your tiredness. Steve adored the way you stared at the heavens, noticing the way it was the same way you looked at him. All he could see was a clear reflection of the stars in your eyes, and it perfectly spoke to the way he felt about you.

He saw everything when he looked at you. The sun, the moon, the stars, the universe, even the galaxy. His past, his present, his future. All of it. To him, you encompassed everything beautiful and divine. He was convinced you were too good for this planet. Too extraordinary. How did he get so lucky?

"Look," you pointed at two stars that sat close to one another, shining impossibly brighter than the others, "do you think that's us in another universe?"

Steve smiled at your question, cherishing how whimsical you could be sometimes. Your voice was soft and full of wonder and he couldn't be more content in this moment. "Yeah," he nodded at you, "I'm yours in every universe, sunshine." He kissed the back of your hand, holding your intertwined hands against his chest.

"Y'know I was thinking to myself the other day about how weird relationships are," he stated, looking down at his feet. You peeled your eyes away from the sky, gazing at your boyfriend for the first time since you stepped out of the car. "Weird, how?"

"I don't know, like how you randomly meet someone and get to know them really well and one day just decide, 'I like this human. I'm gonna spend all my time with them and take care of them.' Maybe weird isn't the word, but it's definitely interesting," he rambled, talking with his hands, even the one that was still laced through yours.

You nodded along, understanding where he was coming from. It was something you'd thought about yourself. He continued, "Like, I look at us and how far we've come and it scares me a little 'cause I see how my parents are now. They were best friends before they got married and now I can count on only one hand the amount of times I've seen them hug or kiss. Freaks me out."

This was one of the few times Steve spilled what was weighing on his mind. You could always tell when something bothered him and though he'd give you bits and pieces when you asked what was wrong, it was never anything as nuanced as this. It made you proud to see him develop so much.

"We're not them, Steve. It's like you said, I'm yours in every universe. Maybe they aren't each others every universe," you sighed, "We won't end up like them, I promise"

You always knew how to reassure him. It was one of the things Steve loved so much about you; your way with words. Nothing sort of a poet, he thought. He engulfed your face with his palms, kissing you with every ounce of passion he had.

Lowly in the background, you could hear the song Just the Two of Us by Grover Washington, as the mixtape was still playing in his car. "It's our song," you smiled against his lips when you pulled away. You took his hands from your face, grasping them when you asked him, "Dance with me?"

He nodded, holding your body against his as your head fell against his chest, looking down at the sleeping town that felt so far away. You swayed back and forth, finding comfort in the near silence, listening to the rhythmic beating of Steve's heart. "Thank you for this, Steve," you whispered. "I'm lucky to be yours."

"Even if you weren't, I'd still do it for you," he admitted, running hand across your back, tenderly.

The little sentence made you think. Steve has been in your life for well over a decade now and he never failed to be there for you even when you didn't know how to ask for it. He was the one who took care of you whenever you found it a little difficult to take care of yourself. The one who never dared to leave your side.

You and Steve were in love even before you were. You'd been celestial even before this.

"I love you, sunshine," he murmured, head resting on top of yours.

"I love you back, Stevie."

💌 1 new message from jojo: pls pls pls comment/reblog (or both teehee) if you enjoyed, it means a lot! inbox is open!

[prokopetz]

Star-spawned

A game of tentacles and self-discovery, for 3–5 players

One unearthly night, a ray of colourless light descended from the stars, and under its warping radiance, creatures unlike any the world has ever seen were born. They do not know the world, and they do not know themselves. Unfortunately for the world, they’re quick learners!

What You’ll Need

Star-spawned requires three six-sided dice, a large sheet of blank paper – or, alternatively, a shared spreadsheet or text document – called the Discovery Sheet, and some way of noting the values of each player’s Facets.

Some rules refer to the player to your left or right; if you’re not seated around a table, work out a virtual seating order amongst yourselves before play begins.

Character Creation

Character creation in Star-spawned is undertaken as a group, and consists of two main phases: generating Facets, and assigning Facets.

Generate Facets

Roll a six-sided die twice, reading the first roll as the “tens” place and the second roll as the “ones” place, yielding a number in the range from 11 to 66. Find the corresponding row of the following table, and write down the contents of the first column. Repeat this process for the second and third columns, and arrange the results in order to find the name of a Facet. For example, if you rolled 23, 41, and 31, this would yield a Facet name of “Desmatence”.

Generate a number of Facet names equal to the number of players, and write them on the Discovery Sheet, each in a separate column with plenty of space under it.

11–12. ab | bles | age 13–14. an | cap | and 15–16. bi | cim | ary 21–22. con | dab | ate 23–24. des | dor | dom 25–26. flam | glan | en 31–32. gen | gov | ence 33–34. gro | kin | ess 35–36. jav | lin | ice 41–42. ka | mat | ing 43–44. pur | ned | ion 45–46. re | nil | ity 51–52. sle | nov | le 53–54. sun | quir | ma 55–56. tab | sped | ood 61–62. tri | sib | on 63–64. ven | tin | ous 65–66. war | tog | yle

Assign Facets

Your character begins with a rating of 1 in each Facet generated in the previous step. Distribute a number of additional points equal to the number of players (or, equivalently, equal to the number of Facets). No Facet may have a final value greater than 3. Try to avoid having two characters with the exact same spread of Facets.

Note: at the time that you assign your Facets, you will have no idea what they mean. This is intentional.

Finishing Touches

No human eye may apprehend nor human tongue express what you are. Roll or choose up to three adjectives from the following table to define the impression you leave upon others – your form is otherwise utterly indescribable. Your nameless name likewise cannot be inscribed or uttered; you may amuse yourself by imagining the epithets that will inevitably be bestowed upon you.

11–12. ancient 13–14. bulbous 15–16. cyclopean 21–22. distorted 23–24. enveloping 25–26. fluid 31–32. grasping 33–34. howling 35–36. iridescent 41–42. lurking 43–44. membranous 45–46. nebulous 51–52. oily 53–54. porous 55–56. refulgent 61–62. squamous 63–64. tentacled 65–66. throbbing

Playing the Game

The sole pursuit of Star-spawned is to discover the world, and in so doing, discover yourselves. Play proceeds without a GM: simply describe what do you and ask the group what you see: any other player may answer.

In the course of your explorations, there must come a time when you are not content merely to observe, but find yourself driven to engage in some fashion. When this time comes, you must essay one of your Facets to work your will upon the world. This can be accomplished in one of three ways: Proposing a Hypothesis, Refining a Hypothesis, or Putting Theory into Practice.

Proposing a Hypothesis

Choose a Facet which currently has fewer than three statements written under it on the Discovery Sheet. (Crossed-off statements don’t count for this purpose.) Propose a hypothesis about what that Facet does, in the following form:

“[Facet name] must [up to six words, no more]”

This statement may freely contradict existing statements written under the chosen Facet if you wish; the ways of the star-spawned are ineffable.

Next, roll a number of dice equal to your rating in the chosen Facet, and sum their values. If the sum of the dice is equal to one of the first seven prime numbers – that is, a sum of 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13 or 17 – then your unworldly intuition regarding the Facet’s purpose has led you rightly, and the hypothesis is confirmed; otherwise, it has led you astray: either the Facet is not what you think it is, or you’ve employed it incorrectly, and in both cases the hypothesis is refuted.

Note: the statistically astute may realise that the likelihood of rolling a prime sum decreases as more dice are rolled, from one in two with a single die, to two in five with two dice, to scarcely one in three with three dice. This is as it should be; the powerful are often overconfident!

If the sum of the roll is prime, find the row corresponding to the highest single die on the following table; otherwise, find the row corresponding to the lowest single die. Do not re-roll.

1. Unthinkable ruin 2. Vile ruin 3. Dreary ruin 4. Subtle glory 5. Stark glory 6. Ineffable glory

If you achieve glory, the player to your left describes the outcome of your overture; otherwise, the player to your right does. Their descriptions should bear in mind whether the hypothesis was confirmed or refuted: glory as a result of pursuing a refuted hypothesis is likely to take unexpected forms!

Finally, if the hypothesis was confirmed (i.e., the sum of the roll was prime), write it down near the top of the Discovery Sheet, under the appropriate Facet’s column, then add a question mark to remind yourself that it is, as yet, only a hypothesis. Otherwise, write it near the bottom, and cross it out to remind you that it’s been refuted.

Refining a Hypothesis

Choose an existing statement from the Discovery Sheet that’s followed by at least one question mark. Roll a number of dice equal to your rating in the statement’s associated Facet.

Next, you may – but are not required to – discard a number of dice up to the number of question marks following the chosen statement. (i.e., if there is one question mark, you may discard zero or one dice; if there are two question marks, you may discard zero, one, or two dice.) You may not discard all of the dice that you rolled – at least one must remain.

After making your discards, if any, sum the remaining dice.

If the sum of the dice is prime, your understanding of the Facet is deepened. Read the highest single die as your result, using the table above, and have the appropriate player describe the outcome. Then, add another question mark after the chosen statement.

If the sum of the dice is not prime, something unexpected happens, and your understanding of the Facet is transformed.  Read the lowest single die as your result, using the table above, and have the appropriate player describe the outcome. Then, choose one:

Modify the chosen statement on the Discovery Sheet by adding, removing, or changing a single word (observing the overall limit of six words following “must”, of course).

Remove a question mark from the chosen statement.

Finally, if the chosen statement now has three or more question marks next to it, erase them and write a period in their place: the hypothesis is now a theory. Conversely, if the chosen statement now has no question marks next to it at all, cross it off the Discovery Sheet.

Putting Theory into Practice

Choose an existing statement from the Discovery Sheet that’s followed by a period. As you’re falling back on well-understood principles, simply roll dice equal to your rating in the statement’s associated Facet, reading the highest single die as your result.

Concluding the Game

Play concludes when every Facet has at least one statement followed by a period written under it. Take what you’ve learned about yourselves and collectively describe the transformation you wreak upon the world.