#both of these roles needed some polishing

[maddennfl86]

🎶 Now I walk with you, with my head held high

In the darkest sky, I feel so alive

[un-pearable]

i’ve got an essay idea i’ve been noodling around with for a while about heroism and sonic’s perception of it throughout the franchise,,, tossing it on the stack i guess

[beauty-and-passion]

Eurovision 2023: the show of unfairness and the triumph of people’s hearts

My god, this year left me exhausted.

It’s 1:30 am, the Eurovision Grand Final just ended and I am starting to write this post now, because I need some time to calm myself before going to bed. And maybe putting down some thoughts about this year will help me find some peace - at least for a couple hours.

This year has not been what was supposed to be, starting from the show and ending with the winner.

But let’s start from the beginning.

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Ukraine: robbed of their own show

We all know Ukraine couldn’t host Eurovision in their country because of the war, so they asked the UK to do that.

And the UK tried to be a good host. They reminded us of the reason why Ukraine couldn’t do it, they tried to call Ukrainian artists and make the show about them... only to systematically forget it two minutes later and start acting as if they won and this was their show.

I hope now you understand why last year I said to not give them power over anything. The UK has a tiny little problem called “massive ego” and if you give them a little crumb, they will immediately scarf the whole cake down.

This year should’ve been 70% Ukraine themed and 30% UK themed. What we had instead was the other way around: the UK gave us a tiny little interval show in the semifinals about Ukraine, then a massive show all about the UK.

The Gran Final has been the icing on this disgusting cake. It started with a bang, featuring all of our favourite Ukrainian artists in the span of five minutes: Tina Karol (I had no idea she was Ukrainian, what a nice surprise!), goddess Verka, my beloved Go_A with The Only Queen That Matters, aka Kateryna Pavlenko. And, of course, our favourite winners: the Kalush Orchestra. Man Carpet is still an icon and I still wonder what the singer sees behind that pink hat, but I don’t care. It’s perfect, it’s great, I want this but 200x more. I want them to steal the show, I want them in all interval acts. But no worries, I’m sure they will definitely appear more during the final. I mean, there’s no way the UK called them just to appear for 20 seconds, right? Right?

Oh sorry, my bad. I forgot this isn’t Ukraine’s show, this is UK’s show. We should definitely have Sam Ryder in the interval act and we should definitely make it all about English songs. I mean, it’s not like there are four of the most beloved Ukrainian artists in Liverpool. Let’s make it all a huge masturbation session of the UK instead.

I apologize if my metaphor offended someone, but this is what I felt while watching the UK celebrating itself. Like... can’t you do this in a private room? Do I really have to watch it? This is just one step below Portugal’s show, which showed a massive ego as well and tortured me for three nights straight, by repeating how cool they were and how nice they were and how I would’ve done a great choice visiting them.

But even if that was torture, at least Portugal was the winner of the previous year, not a host masturbating over the fact they are allowed to host a show they didn’t win.

The only choice I fully approve of in this show is the postcards idea: that was very elegant and respectful and I want to thank the person who thought about it. The cards show Ukraine’s beautiful places, UK’s beautiful places and every country’s beautiful places. It’s all beautiful and it’s a great way to both honor Ukraine and emphasize UK’s hosting role, since it looks almost like the UK acts as a “connection” between Ukraine and every other country.

Unfortunately for us, this is the last proof of elegance we will see for the rest of the show.

______________________________

Danemark and Poland: robbed even before starting

Do you remember Danemark’s and Poland’s entries? I know, me neither. Bland, forgetful, two huge balls of nothing.

Well, I have a good news and a bad one. The good one is that Danish and Polish people are not insane and their musical tastes are actually way better than this. The bad news is that the two entries we got (Bejba and Tiktokkid) were not supposed to win their country’s competition, because the public’s favourites were different. But, like, VERY different.

Same thing happened last year for Spain, but at least Chanel was able to put on a great show - even if her song was boring. Danemark and Poland didn’t have that either: one gave us a meme, the other gave us nothing. Disappointing.

So let’s clean Danemark’s and Poland’s names, by listening to the artists they were actually supposed to bring. Let’s start with Danemark and please, tell me if the tiktok kid is better than this (if you dare):

And before you think: “oh my gosh, this could’ve been a great entry for Danemark!”, please listen to what Poland was supposed to bring:

I love this song. I love this cute nice boy. I love the classical vibes. And when I played this song for my father, my 70-year-old father told me, with no hesitation: “Oh, this is way better than the other one!”.

So if a 70-year-old can recognize how good this song is, then there’s no generational gap and it’s not true that people are accustomed to the same boring stuff. If a song is good, is good. If a song is bland, is bland.

By now you probably already heard from Polish people about how the voting system of their competition was rigged and how Blanka won thanks to the power of nepotism. So our duty as Europeans (and as people with some fucking taste) is to stream Gladiator, listen to all of his songs and shower this boy with love because he needs to know the world loves him.

And for you all, Polish people: thank you for making us know about your true winner. He really looks like one and we love him too.

______________________________

Germany: robbed while trying

I really cannot understand why people keep hating Germany this much. Is it still because of WW2? What did they do, to deserve the bottom of the chart? I know it’s funny, I know it’s for the memes ah ah ah, but also... come on. Come. On. Are you really telling me that Poland was better than Germany? Are you really telling me that the UK was better than Germany?

I can assure you that if Sweden brought this exact same song, the jury would’ve given this song 300 points. But hey, ThE jUrY iS iMpArTiAl, right?

German people: I don’t know why the world hates you. I think you would’ve gotten more votes, if only the system wasn’t so stupidly rigged and forced everyone to choose one winner only, hoping to defeat the jury’s sheer power. Personally, I enjoyed your song and I enjoyed Lord of the Lost and I will definitely listen to more of their songs to add to my playlist.

However, I also understand your frustration. So you know what? Just go nuts. Choose whoever the fuck you want to represent your country, attend Eurovision whenever you want and do whatever you want, give us insane shit and amazing stuff. You will be treated the same either way, so why give a fuck? Have fun showing your insane side, I will support you 100%.

______________________________

Italy and Israel: what did they ever do to deserve these places?

As an Italian, I am honored people gave so many votes to Italy. Seriously, thank you all, nice to know people appreciate our singers.

But also: why so many votes? Why? I know Mengoni is a good singer, he has a great voice and if this was a real singing competition he would’ve probably deserved to win.

But since Eurovision is not a singing competition, why all these points? Were people really so in love with this ballad? Why? What does he have I cannot understand?

Even more important: why Israel, with their stupid unicorn song, got all these votes? Why? Is it because she’s good-looking? Seriously? Are we still stuck thinking with our genitals, instead of using our brains? I thought Europe moved past the need of thinking with genitals only and started developing some good fucking taste.

Or did her amazing “dance moves” get the public? Ok, she’s very flexible... but do I really really have to remind you of Chanel? A small dance segment is really worth so many points, when last year we had someone who was able to sing AND dance as she did for the entire song? I didn’t even like Chanel, but I am mature enough to recognize that THAT was a show, while the unicorn lady did nothing more than a small dance. Definitely not worth 185 public votes.

At least I know that my country didn’t go insane and the true points (aka the public’s points) didn’t go to the unicorn but to Moldova. Thank god, we are still able to recognize what’s good.

______________________________

Finland: the real winner

When Eurovision started, I was sure Czechia would’ve been the winner. However, their performance wasn’t enough to grant them victory.

Finland, however, had everything a winner needs. And now I will explain to you why, because I love this funky green man and you should love him too.

1) “A little man from Vantaa”

Käärijä is a rare gem, not just for Eurovision, but in general. He’s a simple, genuine, silly guy, who comes from a city few people knew before. He doesn’t speak English too well, but he tries and fails in comically sweet ways. He’s a huge fan of Rammstein, so he’s a man of culture. He became besties with Bojan from the Slovenian band Joker Out and their bromance has been the best part of this Eurovision: these two share one single braincell and I love them for this.

But, most of all, he’s humble. He never considered himself above all others, even after his victory. He knew right from the start that it would’ve been a battle between him and Loreen and yet, he never grew arrogant about it. He always talked about their rivalry in funny ways, through memes and by treating her nicely. But he also never underestimated her: he always put his whole self into every performance, knowing full well he had to give everything, to reach the public’s hearts.

And he did. He reached the public’s hearts and like many others all over the world, I also love this little man. He’s genuine, he’s honest, he’s a fashion icon (Finland changes their flag to green when), his dancers are funky and nice like him. You look at him once and all you can think is: “I want to protect him at all costs”. It’s just impossible to hate this man.

2) His song is a banger

Not only his song is a fusion of three genres (industrial metal, hyperpop and hip-hop/rap), so he’s already serving you three songs in one, but the language he used is Finnish.

I’ve heard Finnish people saying that they never used their language because it’s “too weird”. People, that’s exactly because it’s weird that you should use it! You have this gem and you hide it to us?!

If you don’t know why Finnish is so great, please consider that while all other European languages are part of the Indo-European family, Finnish, Estonian and Hungarian are not. They are part of a completely different family (the Uralic languages).

That means they have nothing similar to any other European language. They are something completely different and new, a whole new world to explore. And they’re here, in our continent!

In addition to that, Finnish is an agglutinative language, which means words are formed by stringing together morphemes. How fucking cool is that? I love this kind of language!

As someone who studied English, French, German and Russian, Finnish is something that gets my attention. I can recognize similarities between Germanic, Slavic and Italic languages and I love them, but Finnish is an unexplored world. It’s made of sounds that well, sound familiar even if they’re not. It’s a constant surprise, you know?

Also, I love that it’s a language full of vowels because it makes me think of my own mother tongue (Italian). It’s a bit like feeling at home, even if our languages have nothing in common <3

3) The best performance of Eurovision 2023

I love the Croatian daddies like the next person (and I’m glad the public gave them the top 10 because they deserve it), but Käärijä’s performance had everything: it told us a story (i.e. how Käärijä slowly emerges from behind his barriers to join the party), he gave us the best stupid dance moves and there’s even a family-friendly human centipede. What else do you need, to start dancing?

Also, another shoutout to his dancers, because I live for those shocking pink dresses and for their immensely creepy expressions. And I live for the public always welcoming them with screams: they deserve it.

I know you already enjoyed it 200 times, but you know what? Let’s fucking destroy the views of this video and let’s watch it again. And also, let’s notice how much the public enjoys it. How much they screamed, how they sang with him, how they enjoyed this party.

Even without knowing Käärijä, you can feel he put his whole self into this. And the public felt it too.

And the final result was astonishing: he got 376 points from the public. It’s the second-highest public score, after Kalush Orchestra, who got 439 points.

If you notice, Käärijä’s percentage is even higher than Kalush Orchestra’s! And such a high result means one thing and one thing only: the public has chosen its winner. He is the winner. People are sovereign and people’s will has been very clear about it. So when I say he’s the winner, it’s not because I want to indulge him: it’s because it’s the fucking truth.

Also, please notice the kind of songs the public chose as their top 3 favorites: songs with nothing mainstream and native languages. All while the jury thinks what we want is the same boring shit we can hear on the radio 24/7.

______________________________

A painful evening

Let me start by making something clear: I don’t hate Loreen and I don’t hate Sweden. It’s not their fault if they win. They are just exploiting the situation, because they learned what the good formula is and keep using it over and over.

Loreen knows that if she sends another song that is just like all the others she made, she will get a high position. And now, thanks to yesterday’s victory, she knows she doesn’t even have to try. Why should she do something different, when doing the same thing twice made her win twice? Why try something different, why step out of her comfort zone? If she does the same thing, she can win. So she will keep doing the same thing.

Same goes for the entire country of Sweden. They learned that if they bring the most boring, generic pop song you can listen to on every radio on planet Earth, you will win. So, they will keep sending it. After all, a bland pop song is what the world is more accustomed to, so why change? Why do something different, when they can be teacher’s pet and always get a high score? This isn’t being stupid, this is being clever.

But is it elegant and fair too? Oh honey, absolutely not. This is the exact opposite of what elegance and fairness are.

On Saturday evening, when we reached the voting part of the show, the crowd literally CHEERED AND SANG Käärijä’s name or “Cha Cha Cha”. Multiple times.

Once the public clearly states who they want to win, then the competition is over. When the consensus is unanimous, there’s no competition anymore. The winner is already here. Everything else is just white noise and bureaucracy.

That’s what I felt, while I was forced to keep listening to a bunch of people loudly kissing Sweden’s ass. The public had already decided, we already have a winner. Why are we still wasting time?

And if forcing us to keep listening to this pitiful charade was not enough, the hosts decided to lose that shred of elegance that was still left on this joke of a show and not only shushed the public all time but even said “just ignore everyone”, as if their voices didn’t really matter. It’s not like this is a music competition and the public is the final receiver of said music, after all.

I don’t know you, but I don’t like to see the sovereign public being silenced and told they do not matter, all while a bunch of people takes the decisions for them. Maybe the Brits are accustomed to being silenced because an old rich man has to decide for them, but other countries don’t work like that. Like, you know, the one they’re hosting the competition for.

There was nothing democratic about Saturday evening. There was nothing fair in silencing the public and pretending they haven’t chosen their winner one hour ago, because teacher’s pet had to win again.

Do you really think Sweden deserved this victory more than Finland? Do you really think that a country that won six times needed to add this victory to their list, so they can say “ah ah we won as many times as Ireland”? Or just because they can do their stupid ABBA anniversary next year? Is this the reason why we choose our winner, now? The past glories of a country? Well, then in 2048 is the anniversary of Dana International’s winning song, let’s all go to Israel! And in 2056 we’ll go to Finland, because it’s the anniversary of Lordi’s winning. And in 2071 will be 50 years from the Maneskin’s victory, so let’s come back to Italy.

What, does that sound ridiculous? Tell that to the jury, then.

I feel immensely sorry for the Finnish people, because I read online how much this victory could’ve meant for them. This could’ve been so important, such a good chance to shine for a country that considers their language “too weird” and who hasn’t won in 17 years. And since they are stuck between that ticking bomb that is Russia and the always perfect Sweden, they really needed something that gave them more positive attention.

And it broke my heart even more to see Käärijä suffering. He even apologized to his nation. He did something amazing and he still apologized. He literally won and apologized for not winning. That’s unfairness to its finest.

And if all of this is not enough, the results of the public’s vote came out and oh, look, not a single country gave 12 points to Sweden, while almost every country gave 12 points to Finland. Wow, who would’ve fucking guessed that teacher’s pet won because of the teacher.

Again: does that seem fair and democratic to you?

______________________________

Oligarchy masqueraded as democracy

Let’s do a little bit of math, shall we?

Each national jury consists of five people + one backup juror. They supposedly vote for the best singer and performance- AHAHAH great joke, very funny.

But let’s not focus on this, now: let’s focus on numbers.

37 countries participated this year. So 37 x 6 = 222. The jury is made up of 222 people in total.

The entire population of Europe is around 451 million people, but let’s keep it low because Eurovision isn’t watched by all Europeans. Let’s take just the number of views on the Youtube streaming of the Grand Finale: 9.5 million people. Let’s round up to 9 million, okay?

Okay, so now we have 222 people on one side and 9 million people on the other. Let’s pretend that less than half of them voted at least one time.

Okay, now look me straight in the eyes and explain why the votes of 222 people should have the same weight as the votes of 4 million people. Please, explain to me how democratic this decision is, can’t wait to hear it.

But you know what? Even if it was 1 million voters only, that wouldn’t have been fair either. In no universe is fair to put one million voters on the same level as 222 voters.

There’s only one possible scenario in which this is fair: if Eurovision was a talent show specifically centered around performances and voices, with a jury made of vocal teachers and choreographers, and all I have to do is passively watch it on my couch.

But from the moment you gave the public the power to choose who the winner could be, then why do the votes of all the people from Europe (and Australia) have the same weight as what 222 people decided?

This isn’t a democracy. This is an oligarchy masquerading as a democracy: a bunch of people decides what you should like, basing their decision on their own interests. And you have no way to oppose them, unless you focus all your votes on one single artist, hoping it would defeat the one the jury chooses.

But this deprives Eurovision of the competition aspect. It’s not a competition if I have to endure a tug-of-war against the jury. It’s not a competition if I am forced to give all of my votes to one artist only, instead of spreading them out to all my favorites. And even in that case, basically all of Europe should vote for that specific artist to try and overcome the sheer power the jury has. Again: does this sound democratic to you?

Now you may say: but the jury is made of experts. Oh, you mean the same experts that proved multiple times they base their votes on politics, who their neighbor is and who can corrupt them better? Or do you mean the same experts that in the past made their choice even without listening to the songs?

The truth is that we have 222 people who can easily be influenced by anything and their power is as strong as the power of 4 million people at least. Four million people, who got invested and followed the entire show from start to finish, if I may add. Please, tell me about the fairness of this system again.

And before you say “but Eurovision is a music competition and we need experts”... sorry, but no. According to Wikipedia, the jury was present before televoting was born, but once televoting was extended to all competing countries (1997 ca.), the jury was no more. It came back only in 2009, with this unfair compromise of 50/50 between jury ad public votes.

So there was a period of time in which there wasn’t a jury and in that period we had the first win for Estonia, Turkey, Latvia, Greece, Finland, Serbia and Russia. How weird that, once the jury isn’t there, other nations have a chance to win too.

The thing is: Eurovision isn’t a simple music competition. It’s more like a window. A window where anyone can have their chance to shine. No matter if you’re from a well-known country and everyone knows who you are or if you’re from a tiny piece of land in the middle of nowhere and all you can do is speak your native language: if you have the right combination of song+performance+voice, you can win.

And it’s beautiful we have this window, because it allows us to see something we’ve never seen before: rock bands, silly songs, folk songs and straight-up weird songs. In Eurovision, you don’t have to listen to just the same generic bland song, but you are allowed to listen to different artists and different cultures - and if you like them, you are free to choose your winner, no matter how not mainstream it is.

And we Europeans need this. We need to celebrate the diversity of Europe and embrace them. We need to see people from different countries hanging out, having fun and becoming best friends. For a continent that has always had (and still has) a problem with wars, we need something that allows us to look at each other and not see a piece of land to conquer, but a place full of life and culture to learn about.

And since we pride ourselves to be the continent where democracy was born, let’s put this democracy in the show we’re so proud of. Do we really need the jury vote? Do we really need the vote of this bunch of people? Okay, let’s have them. But it’s not acceptable to give them the same weight as the public’s vote. 50/50 isn’t acceptable anymore. 20/80 is fairer. I’m feeling nice, we can even do a 30/70. It’s just not acceptable that 300 people should have power over millions over something those same millions will enjoy. As always, the public is sovereign.

And if the public’s taste is shit, at least we will be free to blame ourselves for something we brought unto ourselves - and not feel sick and angry over something others forced upon us.

Or everything can stay the same and the 50/50 system will keep going. But at least, be honest enough to not waste everyone’s time, by pretending the public can do something more than watch what a bunch of people decide for them. Do not pretend to be righteous and democratic, when you’re not.

______________________________

The triumph of people

This finale drained me. If it were just a little fairer, I would’ve been thrilled to see Luxembourg coming back after years. But right now I don’t feel like watching next year’s show. I know it will probably be amazing, because Sweden is very good at hosting. But I don’t want to see them masturbating over how good they are and how much they deserved to win - even if they didn’t win.

And, honestly, I don’t care about ABBA either. I don’t give a damn about them, nor about their anniversary. I’m definitely not looking forward to that either.

I will listen to the songs as always, then I might give it a try and watch the semifinals. It depends on how bitter my grudge will be, after one full year. If it will still be very bitter, I will probably spend my time better, by listening to the songs more times, watching the performances and making my own personal final chart. I won’t have ABBA or funny interval acts, but I can try my best to make it enjoyable to read. And it won’t be a fucking charade, at least.

Sorry, but I will keep being bitter for some time. And if you feel bitter too, you have every right to be, no matter what people say. Your voice has been silenced and ignored and numbers don’t lie. It’s very understandable you feel bad.

But you know what you can do? Use your anger in a positive way. And no, that doesn’t mean sending death threats to Loreen. You can accuse Sweden of its lack of elegance and decorum if you want, but always be polite. Don’t be like some of them, who are such sore losers they had the guts to be angry at Finland because it didn’t give Sweden any public points. Bo-hoo, may I add.

What you can do instead is make some noise: ask for the jury to be abolished or for this shitty system to change. And, even more important, support your winners. A lot of amazing artists have been wronged this year, so shower them with love.

And send your love especially towards our winner. Stream Cha Cha Cha, check his other songs, shower him with love and support, make a statue for him in Vantaa, pay me a plane ticket because I need to tackle him in a hug and tell him how much the world loves him. Let’s show the world that he slaps, Finnish slaps and we want more of this.

Do you still need more Cha Cha Cha in your life? Good news: Lord of the Lost made a cover for Cha Cha Cha and OH MY GOSH it’s insanely good. It has a lot of Rammstein vibes, it’s cool and it slaps even harder. Check it out because it’s amazing!

Also because the German singer learned some Finnish, just to spell every word correctly and, according to the Finnish people in the comment section, he did a great job. What a wholesome guy, I love and stan him and his band - and you should do the same, because they are amazing and they don’t deserve last place <3

And if you need more Käärijä in your life, there are amazing Youtube channels with great collections of his moments, like Eurovision Is Ambition and Uni Dash Corn. I especially suggest you see his bromance with Bojan - and speaking of him, another shoutout to Bojan! He’s such a nice, wholesome guy with great charisma, you cannot hate him. I am not head over heels for his song, but he’s so fucking wholesome, he deserves good things only.

And I also suggest you see how Käärijä has been welcomed in Helsinki. He has been welcomed like a fucking hero, a national treasure. And of course he was: he is the true winner after all, he deserved the welcome only winners get.

It’s a bit like he said in his apology: the better one won. And so he did.

You know, I think the only good thing that came out from this shitshow that was Eurovision 2023, is the people’s heart. People showed their kindness, their love, the best of humankind. We saw acts of friendship, we saw empathy and appreciation. The hug between Käärijä and Bojan, despite its sad meaning, is also a perfect example of what we all should be: kinder, softer, more empathetic, together, no matter how far and different our countries are.

In a way, I am happy that Ukraine’s message of unity was still carried out, even if indirectly and definitely not the way the UK wanted.

And in the end, the trophy isn’t so important: it’s just a piece of glass after all. And no piece of glass is worth the impact one little man from Vantaa left on so many people all over the world.

I know you will never read this post, but I wish you a lifetime of success, Käärijä. You have everything a winner needs and, in fact, you are one. So don’t be too hard on yourself, because the world still needs to show you how much it loves you. Take your time, relax, have fun and come back when you’re ready - just don’t leave us hanging for too much, ‘kay?

And you, Finnish people: please treat our beloved winner with love for us too. We will do our best from afar, so let’s be together on this as we should <3

[planetsandstarsandstuff]

Synastry Notes - Part 2

Having Jupiter-Mercury aspects with someone can make for some really fun, lighthearted interactions and a lot of laughter when you're together. Conversations can also get pretty philosophical here, you might really enjoy sharing your beliefs and learning from each other. And with the planet Jupiter relating to expansion + excess, and Mercury relating to communication, aspects between these two planets in synastry can make for some lengthy conversations where both people can't get enough of talking to each other. You might leave interactions with this person feeling happier and more optimistic. The easier aspects can indicate that the Mercury person's opinions and way of thinking mesh well with the Jupiter person's moral beliefs and philosophies. The Mercury person can have a real appreciation for Jupiter's wisdom and teachings. The harsher aspects might indicate a slight difference in opinions/philosophies, where the Mercury person might reject or find faults in Jupiter's beliefs. And Jupiter might feel that Mercury gets too lost in the details, is too logical, and is unable to see the bigger picture. You can both work to expand each other's minds and worldviews. The harsh aspects can also sometimes indicate the Jupiter person being too overpowering in conversation, with them not letting Mercury get a word in and potentially being too pushy about their ideals.

Moon in the 7th house can leave the Moon person feeling very nostalgic about their relationship with the house person once it's over. Moon can become very emotionally attached to their connection with the house person and may reminisce about it if the house person is no longer in their life. This overlay can give two people quite a soft spot for each other and their relationship. And because the 7th house relates to commitment, this affinity they share can be very long lasting in some cases. This is the kind of overlay that can often allow for an easy rekindling of feelings and relationship. The Moon person's emotions might heavily depend on the state of their relationship with the house person in certain cases. Sometimes the Moon person takes on the role of nurturer in the relationship, really caring for, and maybe sometimes slightly babying the house person. But it can also be the other way around, with the Moon person seeking this care from the house person and embodying a slightly childish attitude, leading the house person to need to take on the more mature role in the relationship.

Mars in the 3rd house/Mars-Mercury aspects (especially the more challenging aspects) can indicate that the Mars person doesn't approach conversation with very much tact. They can be direct and blunt in their communication with the other person, often bringing an assertive, and sometimes even aggressive energy to conversations. The Mars person isn't likely to try and soften or polish their words before speaking, favouring a more candid and spontaneous style of communication. The house/Mercury person might not appreciate the forcefulness and lack of tact that Mars brings to their interactions, finding them too abrasive. On the other hand, they might actually appreciate that Mars isn't so rehearsed, finding their genuine, off-the-cuff communication style refreshing and even endearing. They can admire the way that Mars speaks when they're passionate about something, and the house/Mercury person's opinions and words can easily bring out this passionate side of Mars. There's a possibility of arguments between the two getting a little heated, with Mars being the fiery, unrestrained planet that it is, and the 3rd house/Mercury relating to communication. Mars might have a tendency to blurt out hurtful things during fights, which, of course, should work to be avoided.

Moon-Venus aspects in synastry are very cute, they can add a lot of sweetness to a relationship and make both people feel really warm and affectionate around each other. The harsher aspects can sometimes indicate a clash in love languages; the way the Venus person shows love may not resonate emotionally with the Moon person, and the way the Moon person cares for the Venus person may not align with the way they want to be loved. But regardless of what kind of aspect is being formed between these two planets, Moon-Venus aspects can create a lot of fondness and care between two people and can contribute to a very loving connection.

The house your Pluto is placed in another person's chart can show you where you have the ability to transform them the most. Having your Pluto in someone's 6th house can indicate that you have the ability to shift their priorities, maybe even becoming a priority yourself, you can change the way they approach their daily life, their responsibilities, you might be able to encourage them to weed out any "bad" habits they have, you can change the way they spend their time, the way they want to live their life, etc. With your Pluto in someone's 9th house, you can transform their philosophy, their morals, their broader understanding of the world, their religious or spiritual beliefs, etc.

2nd house synastry can indicate having a lot of admiration and respect for what the other person values in life, both people can feel like they care about and find comfort in similar things. And even if they don't value the exact same things, there can still be a sense of appreciation for each other's values. Because of this, I could definitely see 2nd house synastry being nice for living together in some cases. It can indicate caring about the other person's comfort and sense of safety and security.

Saturn in the 11th house synastry can indicate taking each other's friendship very seriously. It can also indicate long lasting friendship and an urge to build a connection and sense of belonging with each other, especially on the part of the Saturn person. The more negative expression of this overlay could be the house person feeling judged for their dreams and ideals, and feeling the need to defend them when around Saturn. They may also feel judged for their "weirdness" and might feel like they have to suppress it to some degree.

Neptune trine Mercury can be a wonderful aspect to have with someone, especially if you're someone who struggles with communication. The Neptune person has an almost telepathic understanding of Mercury's mind and what it is that they're trying to convey. Neptune can also denote compassion, and if you're the Mercury person you might feel very supported and cared for in conversations with Neptune. If you're the Neptune person you might feel like Mercury can understand you quite well, even when you're being vague or speaking in somewhat abstract terms. There tends to be an unspoken, intuitive understanding between these two.

Pluto-Mercury aspects can sometimes indicate that Mercury feels slightly intimidated by Pluto in conversation. This is more likely if the Mercury person doesn't have a lot of Pluto/Scorpio influence in their natal chart. Pluto's intensity, and sometimes scrutiny, might make Mercury feel a little antsy. They may find Pluto to be too overpowering and intense in their approach to communication.

Mars in the 4th house can sometimes indicate the Mars person wanting to rush into establishing a close, emotional bond with the house person. But the 4th house, like all water houses, is very private and doesn't necessarily do well with forceful, intrusive planets like Mars. When it comes to revealing our 4th house qualities to others - our most private self, our innermost emotions, our foundations, etc.- we typically need a bit of time before we feel fully comfortable opening up. And Mars isn't exactly known for it's patience. Or sensitivity. This, of course, doesn't mean that if you have your Mars in someone's 4th house you'll just completely disregard their privacy and boundaries, it just means that you likely feel so driven to form an emotional connection with them that you might forget to slow down and be tactful about it. Mars is also quite a protective planet, and the 4th house deals with emotional security, as well as a general sense of safety from the outside world, so this overlay can indicate that the Mars person feels extremely protective of the house person and is determined to keep them safe.

That's all for now, if you have any questions or requests for future posts feel free to comment!

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to A Great House (19th-20th Century)

(I know, I've been slacking but I'm still alive)

When we think of the Victorians, the grand old Gilded Age or the Edwardians, we all think of those big mansions and manors where some of our favourite stories take place. But what and who did it take to run a great house?

Meet the Staff

Large numbers of staff were always needed to run great houses. Every department had its own management and its own teams, all working together to ensure everything ran smooth. There was both an interior and exterior team.

Interior

You can split the interior of the household into three departments: Service, Upkeep and Food Preparation.

Service

Butler: The Butler was the Head of all the household staff. He acted essentially as the manager of a great house, directing the staff on a day to day basis or at events on the command of the lord/lady/employer. Make staff would report mostly yo him and he would be in charge of keeping an eye on them. The Butler had charge of the wine cellars, the dining room, sometimes the pantry as well. As the manager of the house, Butlers were afforded the title of Mr. X. Our favourite examples being of course Mr Carson and Mr Pennyworth.

Valet: The valet was the male servant who handled the dressing of the men of the family. He would be in charge of his master's clothes, ensuring he was always dressed in the right outfit for the right activity (there was a lot) and be in charge of helping him into the outfit in question. The valet would also be in charge of cleanliness, sometimes shaving his master or running his bath. Valets were referred to as Surname and ranked in how their employer's ranked, for example the Lord’s valet would outrank his son's.

Lady's Maid: The lady's maid was similar to the valet. She was in charge of keeping the ladies of the house looking their best and handling their needs. She would style hair, care for jewels, mend clothes, care for clothes and often act as a companion, accompanying her lady on visits or day's out. The lady's maid was referred to by their surname.

Footman: The footman was a male servant who served at table, fetched items, handled heavy lifting such as luggage, opened and closed doors. Most footmen were young men and en chosen for good looks. Footmen polished the silver services at great houses and when called upon would often take on the role of valet to guests without a servant to help. Footmen were referred to as their firstname. Footmen were denoted by rank, the highest being first footman who had charge over the others and would assist the butler in some tasks.

Upkeep

Housekeeper:The housekeeper was second in command but she ran her most of the interior staff, especially those who took care of the house itself. She supervised all female staff. She helped the lady of the house when it came to running events and caring for guests. The housekeeper is always Mrs. Surname even when she's unmarried.

Housemaid: Housemaids clean the house. They would dust, make and strip beds, straighten things up and keep the house looking it's best. The housemaid was a servant that was almost never seen, usually rising early, lighting the fires, cleaning the house as the family moves from room to room. She was called by her Firstname.

Scullery Maid: The scullery maid is the lower ranking maid. She would also have been younger and less experienced. She was in charge of the more unsightly work: laying the fires, scrubbing the floors, emptying chamberpots, cleaning servant's chambers. She may even do mending and washing for other servants. She was called by her first name.

Hall boy: The hall boy was also young and handled the worst jobs. He would polish boots belonging to the family and sometimes staff, cempty the servant's chamberpots and waited on on the higher ranking servants. He was called by his name.

Food Preparation

Cook: The cook or chef was the third highest ranking servant downstairs and they ran their own department. They were in charge of the kitchen staff. All cooks and chefs would meet almost daily with the lady of the house to discuss menus and ordering but would answer to both housekeeper and butler. As with the housekeeper, a female cook or chef is Mrs Surname despite martial status and make cooks/chef are Mr.

Kitchen maid: The kitchen maid helped the cook/chef in preparing the food. She would be one of the first servants up, in charge of lighting the ovens and starting the breakfast for the family and servants. She would clean the kitchen, boil water when needed and bring food up to the servery when needed. She would be called by her first name.

Exterior

The house would needed a team on the outside to handle the stables, the gardens and any outdoor activity.

Gardeners: They would be responsible for the upkeep of the grounds itself, caring for the gardens. There would be multiple at a great house led by a head gardener.

Stableboy/groom/kennelmaster: They would take care of the family's horses and dogs. They would take care of tack, help plan hunts and riding pursuits and handle carriages.

Chauffeur: As automobiles became popular in this period, a chauffeur was needed to drive the family and take car of their motor.

Lives of Servants

Servants were paid very little at this time, mainly because most staff got free room and board. Most of the interior staff would live in the house itself and be supplied meals. Chauffeurs, gardeners etc would live nearby on the estate either as locals or be supplied a house as a staff member. Staff uniforms were also supplied. Days off were rare but not withheld. Permission was needed to leave the house either to visit the shop or take a few days off.

Servants were expected to be obedient, modest and humble at all times. They were expected to stand in the presence of their master's, speak only when spoken to and never question an order. They had to be ready for anything at the drop of a hat. You've set for a dozen guests but now there's five more coming? Tough luck, change the table settings. You get seasick? Nevermind that, your gentleman is going across the sea and as his valet you're going with him, like it or not.

Servants from one house often travelled to with the family to their other residences: the butler, footmen, chef, kitchen maids, lady's maid, valet would all go with the family while everybody else would get left behind. Every house would have its own housekeeper if it could be afforded. Housemaids and other staff needed could be hired locally when needed.

The Daily Routine

The working day of a servant in a grand house was a long arduous one.

Morning: At 6am, the servants rise. The scullery maid gets up and begins lighting the fires, starting with the kitchen. Then she cleans the kitchen top to bottom before the staff get in to cook. The kitchen maid would rise at the same time, helping with the cleaning. She would set for the servant's breakfast and start cooking it. The footmen open the shutters upstairs, cleans whatever tools they will need such as glasses and silverware, tend the lamps and sets for breakfast upstairs. The housemaids go about the house cleaning up after the night before, starting in the rooms that aren't being used (any room that's not the bedrooms). At around 8, the cook rises and starts the day. The kitchen maid serves breakfast to the other servants before returning to the kitchen to eat her own breakfast with the other kitchen staff. After breakfast, the housemaid will change her apron and deliver hot water to each of the bedrooms for the family. At 9, the family rise. Married women have breakfast in bed with all other family members and visitors eating in the dining room. Valets and lady's maids would have dressed them prior, gathering up any clothes to be mended or washed. The footmen and butlers will serve while the housemaids go into each empty room and begin their chores.

Midday: Just before midday, the chef would speak with the lady of the house to discuss menus. At around 11, the staff were permitted their first break, just enough time for a drink usually a cup of tea before they started again. The chef would start preparing for the main dinner of the evening with the lady's approval. Footmen would take their places at entrances or attend the family where he may be needed. At noon, the servants would have their dinner. At 1, the family would sit for their lunch. Once lunch is over, a footman might be permitted to attend personal business (with permission from the butler first) or be sent on errands out of the house such as delivering messages. While the family sit for breakfast, the maids tidy up any room they have been using since getting up.

Afternoon: The family take tea around 4. The footmen clear the tea before heading down to take their tea - a light meal- with the other servants around 5. Afterwards, the footmen will start to light the lamps, close the shutters and draw the curtains. The butler would oversee the laying of the table for dinner with the footmen. The first footman carries the silver, the second the china, while the butler sets the silver and glasses. If a guest is coming, a footman will remain on the door to see them in.

Evening: At 8, the footman or butler signals the start of supper. This is done by the rinibg of the gong or bell which gives the family and any staying guests, 15mins or more to get ready. Valets and lady's maids would already be upstairs at this point, helping their master/mistress. When the family head downstairs, they linger in the drawing room to chat while a footmen keeps an eye on them. Any guests visiting for dinner would be let in by a footman and announced upon entry. The butler announces dinner and escorts the family in. The footman serve the food while the butler pours the wine (chosen by the Lord with the butler's help). The footman stay in the dining room all throughout dinner, excepting when they go to the servery to collect the food from the kitchen maid. They serve and clear the plates for every course. When dinner is over, a footman will stay with the men while they drink their port while another serves the ladies their coffee in the drawing room. While dinner is on, the housemaid would tidy the empty rooms, check the fires and turn down the beds. At 9, the servants eat their supper while the family chill. When supper is over and the family is done for the night, the valets and lady's maids would ready their masters for bed. A footman would wait in the hall with candlesticks for the family and show any departing guest out. The kitchen staff would start to clean up while the butler starts locking up the house. The staff would get to bed about 11:30 - 12.

[thatstonedwriter]

⋆｡˚ 「 Relationship Headcanons 」 ⋆｡˚

Fizzarolli

── ˙•˚∘✮🌙ᯓ🪐˙•˚∘ ──

You in the market for a sweet n’ sassy performer? Fizzarolli is the one for you! My man lives for being dramatic, although he doesn’t always need to be the center of attention. Fizz is more than happy to share the spotlight~.

Shenanigans is the word that best describes this relationship. Fizz will play harmless pranks and playfully tease you constantly. A lot of the time, he’s filming too (but won’t post it to his socials if you don’t want him to). Of course there are times when you'll need space, and in those cases, Fizz just goes to bother Blitzø.

Speaking of- Hangouts with Blitzø are pretty frequent. I hope you can tolerate threesome jokes, because Blitzø will make them. Most of the time, the two bicker with each other, with Fizzarolli relying on you for backup.

One of his favorite activities is singing with you! Doesn't matter if you're good or not- Fizz just loves the thrill of singing along to your favorite songs together.

On that same note (hehe), Fizz loves solos (watching and performing). So whether it's you cheering him on or vice versa, taking a moment to feel like a rockstar does wonders for your self-esteem.

Fizz will often do this thing where he pretends something is a microphone, and he'll act as if you're a celebrity on the red carpet. It's a fun way for Fizz to flirt with you; complimenting your outfit, hair, accessories, etc.

loves pampering you (and himself), so expect lots of self-care supplies to take over your bathroom. Nail polish, cuticle oil, face masks, scented lotions- you name it, he probably has it.

I imagine Fizz suffers from some chronic pain due to his scars and injuries. I also think that his skin is super sensitive because of the burn scars. I also think because of that, he'd be very particular about the skin care products he picks out.

In the beginning of your relationship, Fizz will have lots of reservations regarding physicality. His main concern is that the texture of his burns, and the scars themselves will freak you out, and you won't find him attractive.

Later on, when he's more comfortable, Fizz loves cuddling - though, if you have any boundaries surrounding physicality, he'll adhere to them. If not, be ready to have him hanging on you all the time. A robotic limb draped across your shoulders, his head leaned against yours, a hand caressing your back, fingers tracing your palms- Fizz just loves being in contact with you.

spontaneity, impulsivity, and creativity- the lethal trifecta. Fizz’s mind almost never stops. Some days, he’ll be brimming with ideas, songs, comedy bits- others. Others, his mind is racing with insecurities, and overwhelmed by the need to do everything at once. He has the tendency to bounce from one task to another, so sometimes, you’ll find half the laundry folded, the dishes clean, but not dry, or hastily written reminders on post-it notes scattered on counter tops and mirrors.

He tries not to show them often, but Fizz has a lot of insecurities. They range from him not being attractive enough to full-on crises regarding his self-worth. If you struggle with the same issues, you both can be pillars for each other, offering comfort and support when needed. Regardless, comfort and reassurance are very important to Fizzarolli, and they play a big role in the relationship.

── ˙•˚∘✮ 🔭๋࣭ᯓ🌙˙•˚∘ ──

[andy-wm]

I have thoughts about the Tiktok JK deleted

<<I realise its a few days ago now and you might be wondering 'what tiktok?' but I've been writing in snatches when I have a few minutes so it took a while. Anyway, here it is...>>

A few posts I've read have suggested JK did the silly>sexy Tiktok challenge backwards. That he did sexy>silly instead. That he was being random and funny.

I disagree.

What he did was unexpected, a little left of centre, and for the people who can read subtext, not random at all but very very clever.

I'll tell you why, (It may not be what you think) but first I need to vent about two things:

1. Give the man some credit. He knows what he's doing.

There are some who love JK but who see him as a naive innocent. He is not. He isn't a child or a himbo.

Saying he did the challenge just because it's trending, and he reversed the order of the content for a bit of a joke, is insulting to him as an artist. It would suggest he has no forethought or understanding of himself or his (global) audience, and his decisions are made on impulse with no idea of the consequences.

He's very intelligent and has plenty of experience with digital media and creating content. Besides being involved in producing complex visual narratives as part of BTS for the last ten years, he has directed and produced seven highly polished and professional GFC videos. And don't forget the MVs for Life Goes On. For the October issue of Vogue Korea he took on the role of Creative Director. That's a pretty big deal. So we can assume he knows what he's doing.

If he produces content in a particular way, it's because it enables him to communicate what he wants to communicate.

2. You may not understand the message. That doesn't mean there's nothing to understand.

A heads up to people who can't work it out... your inability to grasp meaning doesn't equate to 'no meaning exists'. Suggesting that people who recognise what he's doing are reaching or delusional is an insult to both the audience who can read this situation, and to Jungkook, who is sharing his message.

Consider a system of writing you can't decode. Lack of comprehension doesnt mean the writing is meaningless, it means you don't understand the language.

Even if you believe you understand what's being said, please recognise that context may play a role too, that it could reveal a richer and deeper message. Don't just assume the easiest (laziest) interpretation is correct.

(You may have guessed, someone suggested I was 'behaving like the cult' when I pointed out that JK's tiktok was more than being funny ... and now I'm mad 🤣)

Vent over. Now back to he topic at hand...

💜💛

What was he was really doing? And why is it not at all random?

Let's take a step back to recall what army has been saying about this...

Almost every interpretation i read suggests he reversed the order (silly>sexy becomes sexy>silly). The reason given is that his tiktok only makes sense if the order is reversed, and this idea is backed up by the caption saying "I go the other way".

But the 'reversed order' theory is based on a hereronormative perspective of what's sexy (and a stereotypical perspective of silly.)

So consider the content of his tiktok from a queer point of view...

For a man in a relationship with another man, the idea that he's with all those women is silly.

It's silly to believe he's got a girlfriend - or several. It's silly to think the womens' names in the song are relevant to him.

He posted this tiktok at a time when he's releasing music that fits the western pop norm of boy + girl, and when rumours of him dating several women at once are rife. The timing is not a coincidence and nor is the choice of background song for this.

All these assumptions and rumours are pretty silly, JK is telling us.

Now let's talk about the second part, the sexy part. Yes it may look silly on the surface, but we have seen him and Jimin make dorky faces at one another when they're flirting. It seems to be the visual equivalent of calling Jimin 'Jiminssssi'.

It's just another way they create distance and avoid 'getting caught'.

Maybe sexy for Jungkook actually is lying on the couch in your sweatpants making corny faces at your boyfriend.

Remember that he puts out 'stereotypical sexy' on command as part of his job so maybe that doesn't feel very sexy to him. Maybe that's work.

In my view (I know this is subject to interpretation) they've been together for years now. This is not the first flush of love. When you've been with a partner for a while, sex is (hopefully) more fun and less serious. Maybe it's about having the confidence to be wholly unselfconscious.

(My partner makes a Pepé Le Pew face at me when he's goofing. No, i don't know why either... 🤣🤷)

But wait, what about that caption?

What about 난반대로 간다?

My beautiful Korean friend (who sadly has zero interest or care about jikook) confirmed the literal translation:

"I go the other way"

"I take the opposite direction".

It's not "it goes the other way" or "this goes the opposite direction". He's referring specifically to HIMSELF.

Jungkook goes the other way.

But it's more than that according to my friend.

It's a bold statement:

"I don't follow the mainstream."

It reminds me of his tattoo ...

RATHER BE DEAD THAN COOL

He doesn't do things just because everyone else is doing them.

"I don't follow the mainstream."

OK. HOLD UP.

This is where it gets interesting.

Then why would he do something as mainstream as a trending tiktok challenge? Especially something as vapid as this challenge?

And why would he tell us DURING that Tiktok challenge that he DOESN'T follow the mainstream?

And then delete it.

Creating content takes time.

And we know he's a busy man.

He's about to release an album. He's doing live performances. He's prerecording for music shows. He's overseas right now... for the fourth time in a month! Does he have time for this??

And he DELETED it...

Did he just WASTE all that time?

No, he did not.

He deliberately chose to do this.

He did it knowing ARMY studies every action, every video, and every media release.

He did it knowing ARMY would already have copied the video before he took it off his profile.

He said on Stationhead that he knows ARMY has it, and is sharing and posting it. He's FINE with that.

So he took the time to create and upload that video. He wants it out there.

He just doesn't want it on HIS page. That's an important part of the story.

So lets go back to the caption.

"I take the opposite direction"

"I go the other way"

"I don't follow the mainstream."

*Said boldly* remember. It's a loud statement, captioning an otherwise pointless very mainstream trending challenge.

So if he's not referring to tiktok itself, or to uploading challenges, what could he be referring to?

...

...

There's only one thing left: Himself.

I take the opposite direction

I go the other way

I don't follow the mainstream

Essentially... I swing the other way.

There's no way a queer man would make that statement and not fully recognise the message he's sending.

As for deleting the video, I'd say he knew it was too risky to leave on his profile, being a celebrity in Korea. He's managing his brand. Deleting it also gives him plausible deniability. He can say he made an error. As I said, he's very intelligent. He knows ARMY will see it and share it. He knows that those of us with a queer eye will hear the message loud and clear.

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 And we do hear it. 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

[alonetimelover]

M A S T E R L I S T

hello!

welcome to my full masterlist. i hope you'll find something just right for yourself, and maybe you'd like to stay for more.

have a nice time reading,

mila xx

♡ Fade To Black ~7,3k words

YN loved Joel more than anyone ever. Joel was selfish and scared. They both made mistakes. It all led them to Bill's town and aftermath of what had happened, understanding something very important - love isn't always forever.

♡ ...deserved to experience ~4,3k words (part 2 to fade to black)

YN, Joel, and Ellie try to settle down in Jackson. Over the years, they have navigated their lives through all happy moments. Family expanded, and new feelings and roles were accepted. Joel has never been happier. Or is it just a movie?

♡ 10 essentials - social media - photographer!reader

Over the years YN did several photoshoots of Andrew for different magazines. When the pandemic began fans started to speculate. Finally, Andrew spills the tea during the '10 essentials' video and let people inside his life - very changed life.

♡ BRIT awards - slavic!reader ~7,2k words

After years of being together, six months of being engaged - YN and Harry are letting people know they're in love - it just happens to be BRITs 2023 award show.

♡ Easter Monday - slavic(polish)!reader ~1,3k words

Harry and YN spent their first Easter together. He wants to surprise YN with celebrating it the way she does in Poland - but Harry gets his knowledge from the internet, not the best source.

♡ Warsaw show - social media + blurb - slavic(polish)!reader

Harry plays one of the most important shows during the European leg of HSLOT - show where YN's granny is in the audience.

♡ to feel fulfilled - polish!reader ~ 3,6k words

During the day of the last Love on Tour show Harry intends to do three things: satisfy his fiancée, make granny's dream come true and put on the best performance for his fans.

♡ ...marry me? - polish!reader ~ 1,2k words

Harry is drunk and YN is the angel that he dreamt of.

♡ Let's play tennis! - social media - tennis player!reader

Harry's dating WTA no. 1 tennis player - YN YSN.

♡ Can't hear haters when you're slaying - social media - tennis player!reader

Harry and YN (WTA no. 1 tennis player) are still going strong despite all the bullying they receive.

♡ BLURB - YN and Harry go for a run in London - tennis player!reader

♡ My love, we were in Paris - tennis player!reader ~ 1,7k words

Harry surprises YN after her third win in French Open.

♡ Wimbledon - tennis player! reader ~ 0,9k words

YN lost at Wimbledon, but Harry is still proud of her.

♡ Winning - social media - tennis player!reader

In which YN won Wimbledon, people think they broke up and internet breaking.

♡ Daylight - social media - equestrian!reader

For filming Daylight MV, Harry needed some horse riding lessons.

♡ 'The Higgs professor' - social media - physicist!reader

After being sent a video of Dr YN YSN, explaining Higgs mechanism with Harry's music, Harry finds himself infatuated. Then he meets her at Oppenheimer's after party, and the rest is history.

♡ Dispersion - social media - physicist!reader - part 2

NYC is welcoming one of the most famous physicists, and things seem to look great. More physics in pop terms and more of the sweet couple. For some time.

♡ Fired? - social media - physicist!reader - part 3

The leak is hard on everybody, especially YN. Internet wants to fire her from Oxford. And Harry, Harry is like always there for her.

♡ Recommendations - social media - booktuber!reader

The new series on ynrecommends channel on YT caught Harry's attention. After some time, they are joined at the hip. As friends. Right?

♡ If he doesn't have books, don't sleep with him - social media - booktuber!reader - part 2

The rumours are swirling around Harry and YN on whether they are together. In their usual style, they are confusing, so nobody knows. Till, YN posts that one picture on her IG.

♡ Music videos - social media - famous!reader

Harry and YN have been together since 2013. And from the moment Harry started his solo career, YN is there, in the music videos, or behind the scenes. And if it's not her, it's one of their two babies. Soon to be three.

♡ Third baby - social media - famous!reader

Harry and YN have their third baby and some people still don't know how to behave around a breastfeeding person.

♡ Daddy's house - social media - famous!reader

New Pleasing drop comes with new ambassadors - quite little ambassadors.

♡ Love language - boyfriend!Harry

Harry's love language is physical touch, especially kissing you. Here are just a few types of them. !contains suggestive content!

♡ Kisses - boyfriend!Harry

After establishing their love language, YN and Harry are not shy about it. And YN loves smothering Harry in kisses after his first LOT show.

♡ Popstars - social media - popstar!reader

YN and Harry have been together for years. The problem is, even after being spotted kissing, they won't admit it at the beginning. Oh, there also is Judie and Teddy - their cute, little kids.

♡ Goldie - social media - swimmer!reader

Harry follows a competitive swimmer, YN on IG, and (lies you can imagine) it breaks the internet. YN attends his shows and their relationship just grows.

♡ Happy birthday, rockstar - social media - director!reader

YN's social media posts over the years wishing Joe a happy birthday. (part of an Action! series)

Harry x (ex)director!reader x Joseph Quinn

A story, where Harry and YN fall in love at Sign Of The Times music video set, challenge their relationship over the years, eventually fall apart and the aftermath of that break-up.

social media:

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

written parts:

▪︎ first date ~2,8k words

A short story about two people being nervous on their first date.

▪︎ tolerate it ~3k words

YN sees how much Harry is distancing. Confrontation happens, unfolding cascade of events and feelings YN has buried within herself. Is this the end?

▪︎ champagne problems (part 2 to tolerate it) ~3k words

YN thinks Harry wants to save their relationship after the argument they've had. He thinks that, too. But the definition of saving can differ.

▪︎ heartbreak anniversary ~3,4k words

Harry holds an emotional conversation with his therapist, and then his family. If it wasn't heart-wrenching enough, Anne and Gemma have some news to share - something to tip the scales at the breaking point.

a/n: headers are made by me. if use, please give credit.

[tyrantisterror]

Alright, some more Godzilla monster sketches. First, a batch of polished designs for Anguirus, Hedorah, and Gorosaurus. If you're thinking, "Wait, did I miss Gorosaurus sketches?", the answer is you did not...

...because I figured him out pretty quickly. Retrosaurs come easy to me by this point. Varan's going to need some more work, though.

I think I got my approach for Titanosaurus pretty quickly, but had to spend a while refining the details. The original Titanosaurus's head has all these details fighting for prominence - the big fin, the fin ears, the horns, AND some catfish barbells, all clustered around the eyes. It's a lot! Figuring out how to work them all in elegantly was difficult, and I ended up shifting things around. Even then, I think I'm probably going to cut the barbells in the finished design.

You might notice that both Titanosaurus and Gorosaurus (and Varan's unfinished sketches) have some details in common with my Godzilla. I'm kinda taking a page from Singular Point and making them part of the same clade of fictitious prehistoric reptiles - Goro's species lost the gills as it took on a fully terretrial existence, while Titano's gills are more prominent to enable her almost entirely aquatic lifestyle.

Baragon gets to join the Godzilla relative train too, mainly for meta reasons. He's somewhere between Godzilla's branch of the family tree and Gorosaurus's - because his role in Frankenstein Conquers the Role was at one point pitched to be Godzilla's, and his role in DAM was ultimately taken by Gorosaurus, you see. I didn't change his design very much beyond skewing some proportions to make him seem more mole-y - I mean, I tried to, but Baragon's hard to improve upon, he's already weird as fuck as is. Baragon's... kinda perfect?

Stepping away from prehistoric monsters, I had fun with Orga, mainly by playing with elements of his Godzilla Unleashed: Double Smash incarnation. He's gonna getcha with his big ol' grabby hands, you see. God I wish I could find that tumblr post. EDIT: There it is!

Finally (for now), I'm... still figuring out Gigan, honestly. Not really sure what angle I'm going to end up with, he's proving hard to pin down. Will require more sketching.

[linkemon]

Fatui headcanons 1

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.

Warning!

Some Fatui have yet to appear in the game, so the characters may deviate from their later canon versions.

La Signora

✧ It's not like she was your mother. The best part of her character died with her lover. But it was hard not to feel anything for the woman who had been your mentor for several years. She personally chose you as her protégé. She gave advice and trained. Always saying that she doesn't know what it's all for because she can never be stopped so that someone like you could take her place.

✧ I let you go with me only because Tsaritsa told us to train recruits. She repeated these words and the like very often. But when anyone dared to question you, she always stood up to them. If any of Fatui's lower ranks dared to talk back to those above them, she would eliminate them without batting an eyelid. But she let you talk back, telling you to know your worth. Her student can't let herself be pushed around. That would be bad for her.

✧ When you heard he was dead, you didn't want to believe it. Perhaps many would have rejoiced at your position but you just felt empty. You knew you could do everything you were supposed to do and you would be honored to serve her majesty but joy was somewhere on the side. The first thing you wanted to know was how and where she died. You promised yourself that one day you would slay Raiden Shogun. It was your duty to avenge La Signora.

Pantalone

✧ You met him before he climbed to the top. He was a poor man with no vision. Over time, he developed an unhealthy obsession with the gods. Why did so many people have visions and the two of you didn't It was unfair.

✧ Together you tried to survive on the street. It was a strange time. Sometimes you starved to death. However, your relationship was not based on trust. Some shared food when it was scarce. You shared the spoils according to the amount of work you put in, with no reduced tariffs. Sometimes you went so far as to steal from each other, bringing less than you needed.

✧ Pantalone was usually better at planning jumps and actions. He taught you some nice tricks, including how to manipulate people. He usually chose easier targets. You were a proponent of force solutions.

✧ When given a chance to climb to the top, he abandoned you without hesitation. You always knew he was capable of this. But it wasn't until it really happened that you realized how hurt you were anyway. So when the Fatui asked you to join their ranks a year later, you agreed. Also to face Pantalone one day when you've achieved a lot.

✧ You first saw him again at your mentor's funeral. He was rarely in your area, so you only heard about him. Everything you wanted to tell him slipped out of your head. You only responded to his polite smile and handshake, then walked away.

Tartaglia

✧ As the youngest member of the crew, he often talked to you. He was very popular with recruits. There have been many occasions when Fatui's seniors have charged him with taking care of you during your training. You were always ranked number one, so naturally he wanted to challenge you. It was an honor, so you didn't even think of refusing.

✧ Over time, private training in the form of sparring entered your blood. When you came under La Signora's wing, you stopped. You already had a new teacher and Tartaglia didn't like your mentor very much. Still, he used to pick on you when he came back to Snezhnaya. He loved teasing you. Especially if you've been sitting on paperwork.

✧ At La Signora's funeral, he sided with you and Arlecchino. He himself knew what it was like to be away from his homeland and the vision of death outside of it was terrible. When he supported you, he looked at you the whole time. After the ceremony, he came over to ask how you feel in your new role and if you want to face him. You knew he wouldn't ask about your mentor but you knew his approach to family. It was kind of his attempt to comfort you, so you went to the training ground.

Il Dottore

✧ You never expected that one of your first assignments would involve working with this man. But Tsaritsa's will is sacred and you were the new Harbinger. You had to adapt. You didn't miss him. It would even be safe to say that he scared you. All the rumors you heard about him were nasty. And, as it turned out later, true.

✧ You were tasked with overseeing the security of his lab in Liyue. He produced machines there but not only. He was fascinated by Abyss. What's worse, he's taken it upon himself to keep you informed of all his steps. For some reason, the Dottore thought he'd do what he could to interest you in the subject. Like it or not, you had to listen. Over time, you noticed that you saw meaning in his words and it scared you.

✧ One unlucky day you had to leave the factory with the entire crew. There wasn't much time. You saved his life when several Ruin Guards rioted at once against him. He just laughed the whole way, running away. He said it would be too weak of an end for a genius like him. You've said a few things that would make more than one of the higher-ups try to kill you. But he just laughed again. You're stuck with him now.

[nxathyx]

Fyodor

This is a mixture of crack, slightest angst and some light smut!!

I love Fyodor but I also love insulting him

Trigger warnings: suggestive themes, mentions of murder, swearing, insults, mentions of religion,he's lowkey toxic asf, Fyodor is a discord moderator and a roblox sugar daddy with lice😕😕

°I legitimately believe Fyodor wouldn't be able to love or find the mental capacity or motivation to care for anyone (unless he actually needs that person for their plan)

°that being said, we'll just pretend he does love and care for you, Kay? (stay delusional💋💋

°Fyodor never talks about his family because he has a bad relationship with them and he legitimately wouldn't enjoy hearing you rant about it neither

°honestly he has a pretty bad temper and can easily snap at you for the smallest mistakes

°afterwards he makes himself out to be a victim as he manipulates you 😋😋

°I feel like Fyodors ideal way of spending time with you would be just sitting in silence enjoying a book or just the both of you mind your own business

°he likes recommending you books and then hearing you talk and rant about them, talking what you enjoyed, what you didn't enjoy, ect. (especially if it's one of his favorite books that he wishes to re-read but can't due to his entire attention and time keeps going to his plan)

°I feel like Fyodor would be attracted to fur coats like idk why (NOT LIKE THE COAT ITSELF BUT YOU WEARING THE COAT YKYKYK???)

°Fyodors fangs are sharp because I said so???

°I don't know why but he gives me biter vibes

°like he just bites shit

°he hasn't washed his clothing for like 5 months

° he used to have a full skin care routine (more so like creams so his skin wouldn't dry and then crack) but he stopped due to the lack of time

°he cares a lot about his oral hygiene

°his lips are a pretty dark red or at least look really pigmented because his skin is incredibly pale

°he brushes his hair with a broken hair brush Nikolai got him from goodwill

°once he dyed his hair purple with a sharpie

°he scams kids

°he definitely had a YouTube channel when he was like 8 (that's his villain backstory btw)

°he's an average twt user

°he had extremely sensitive hearing but can now barely hear on his left ear

°he used to pray really often when he was a kid but after time he started backing away from that and does it on occasion

°he has really bad eye bags

°he can't walk up stairs without gasping for air

°once he tried looking for some guy he needed for something through tinder

°he doesn't enjoy vodka (he prefers wine imo)

°once he got into an argument with a polish citizen about WW2 (I'm polish therefore this is cannon now)

°he got banned on roblox after calling some girl a cunt

NSFW

°his body is skinny asf yet his abs are the slightest bit toned

°his nipples and tip are really rosy

°very good hygiene regarding his dick

°he prefers taking you from behind because his family used to shame sexual acts of desire

°very long fingers yet he doesn't know exactly how to use them

°he lights candles and actually tries to have a mood setup

°he's super into hair pulling

°loves getting sucked off

°doesn't do foreplay nor does he try to hard with aftercare

°always showers after sex to wash his "indecency" off

°he wouldn't mind getting his dick crushed by your heel

°he prefers receiving cause his anemic fragile body doesn't have energy for a lot

°pants a lot

°is a smooth talker yet he isn't much into degrading just prefers to stay silent

°interested in wax play and role play

[luna-writes-stuff]

Promises, Ahsoka Tano

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Reunion fic, resolved angst.

Word count: 3291

Tw: This is inaccurate because the sapphics would never be so oblivious and patient. So much pining and heartbreak. Slow burn but make it one fic. Mentions/descriptions of injuries, battle and the aftermath of a war. Probably inaccurate timelines even though I’ve been a Star Wars fan for over a decade. All these series are messing with me.

Summary: You and Ahsoka knew each other since you were both younglings and traveled with each other for a long time after order 66. But when something happens one night, you part suddenly. Now, a small amount of years later, she comes to seek you out.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Two hearts that shouldn't talk to each other become close In a town much like a prison cell.”

When one thinks about the aftermath of war, they’ll often recount the lives lost. Who won and who lost, and what was won and what was lost? How will the new society function? One thing that often gets forgotten are the survivors, more specifically those who cannot partake in whatever role the world has to offer them yet.

After the Empire was destroyed, thousands of children lost their families, lost their reputation- lost everything, but they weren’t old enough to help restore anything. They were left behind, forced to pick up their broken pieces together.

With the old rebellion, you had established a camp on Coruscant, giving shelter to those who had lost everything. You gave them a roof, food and schooling. Something to help them when they were old enough to go out on their own.

Coruscant had been the centre planet of the Empire, and there were many out there who believed everyone kept alive there were Empire sympathisers, when in fact the opposite was true.

“People speak our names on the street in hushed tones. Oh, the stories they'd tell if anyone would listen. If anyone would listen.”

The camp had been built in the old Jedi temple, where none really dared to enter again. It offered enough space and enough freedom for the children, regardless of the bad memories it might have brought you. Though the emperor had turned the temple into his own palace, there were hidden places still intact. You would come there often to simply sit and think.

You hadn’t even been a full adult when order 66 was issued, still serving as a padawan under your Jedi master. After the fall, you had left everything you had learned there - in the desolate Jedi temple where you had once swore to keep the peace and maintain the balance of the force.

Every time you sat there, you recounted your action, your memories. Everyone you knew and everything you had learned. Your saber had been long buried. Your aid in the rebellion laid within the medics, helping those who had already fallen. It was a good alternative for you. You saved lives of those already deemed dead, and helped the rebellion remain strong. That had been your strength. And once peace was restored, you knew your job was far from over yet. There were still many out there who needed your help.

“You come from a town where people don't bother saying "Hello" Unless somebody's born or dies.”

It had been ten weeks since you set up camp here, and the bond between you, those you worked with, and the children had grown incredibly strong over time. Regardless of the number of people in the temple, you knew all their names and got along with all of them. When you weren’t teaching the children, you occupied yourself in the med bay, though most injuries now extended to scraped knees and bruised skin. In your free hours, you’d run outside with the children, even offering some a handful of defence classes to keep their guard up.

At the end of the day, you’d always find yourself back in that small hall that had remained untouched by the empire. The walls still their marbled gold with white floors, though they were long from polished and shining now.

A month ago a young boy had been practising with a stick, claiming he wanted to one day wield a lightsaber. You knew he had been force-sensitive, but you were reluctant to teach him. Sure, you kept up with your abilities from time to time, but you hadn’t held a saber in years. You couldn’t teach him what you knew, because you simply knew too little. But he was adamant - and surprisingly skilled as well. Thus, you decided to practise your wielding skills again. But now, with a steel pole, roughly the size of a regular blade. It was heavier than usual, but it would work for you.

“And I come from a place where they drag your hopes through the mud. Because their own dreams are all dying.”

You had been practising for weeks, but it was hard when there was no teacher. You were struggling with your footwork when you were suddenly highly aware that you were being watched. You spun around gently, suspecting a child had followed you here, but you were proved the opposite when a familiar voice sounded: “Your footwork is sloppy.”

Turning around the corner, you were faced with a figure that caused your breath to simply remain stuck in your throat for a second.

“Ahsoka,” you breathed, dropping the pile immediately before running up to her, wrapping her in a hug. She was keen to return the gesture, a happy chuckle leaving her as her arms wrapped around your body. “Maker, it’s been so long.”

When you parted, she looked at you with a smile. She had aged, but so had you. She looked more mature, yet that childlike glint was still so visible in her eyes. She looked good.

“And when we walk down the street The wind sings our names in rebel songs.”

“I’ve heard of what you’ve done,” she hummed. “You did good.” You sighed at her words, somewhat grateful for her words, even though you didn’t need them. In your head, you were just happy she was standing in front of you, fully alive. You hadn’t heard from her since the two of you parted, and the silence had been killing you every single day.

“I was worried you had been lost in the war.” You voiced aloud, a remark that caused her smile to broaden just a little bit. “I’m fine,” She assured, nodding her head slightly. “You look good, too.”

Though the words brought just a little heat to your cheeks, you tried to shake it off, teasing her as you twirled your hair. “No grey hairs yet?” You asked rhetorically. “You’d think they’d begun to grow now, considering the stress these children bring me.” Ahsoka laughed at that, crossing her arms before gesturing towards the door she had just came from.

“It’s an admirable thing, taking care of those who are forgotten.” She mused, her face falling slightly. She knew how difficult it had been for children after the war. “Yes, well…” you trailed off. “We used to be a part of them.”

“The sounds of the night should make us anxious. But it's much too late when the fear is gone.”

Silence struck the pair of you as your words laid heavy on your mind. After order 66, you and Ahsoka had been alone, still children, though older. Everything had relied on those around you, but with the gone, the universe had seemed bigger than ever. Where you and Ahsoka still had each other, these children didn’t have anyone. You weren’t going to let them wallow in their own misery, and you - luckily - hadn’t been the only one who refused to let that happen.

“Don’t misunderstand,” you began, breaking the silence. “I am happy you are here, but why?” The togruta seemed to think about that for a short second, though the answer came quickly: “I came here to seek you out.”

Deep dread immediately settled into your system. Usually, when someone would come along, claiming to ‘seek you out’, something had been terribly wrong, or your help was needed for something of grave importance. You couldn’t help but feel slightly panicked at the revelation: “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she quickly denied, as if sensing your stress. “No; I feared there might be, but there isn’t.” The small amount of new adenine in your body slowly died down, confusion now settling in: “What do you mean?”

“I will meet you in the Next Life, I promise you. Where we can be together, I promise you.”

“A few rotations before the falling of the empire, I lost contact with the rebellion.” Ahsoka confessed, rubbing her upper arm in discomfort. “I didn’t know if you were safe.”

Part of you was flattered - happy that she was checking up on you. Even after you went your separate ways, she still wanted to make sure you were safe. However, you never realised she had been doing this, which left part of you even more confused: “You checked on me?” She merely shrugged at your words, even though her facial expression showed slight sympathy. “We went different paths, but it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t care.”

A heavy sigh came from you, trying to repress the memory of how you two left. That was something you didn’t wish to discuss. But the disappointment was still very clear in your words: “You could have called me.” You mumbled, your voice hurt, but not accusing.

Ahsoka formed her lips in a thin line at your words, lost sentiment lingering on them. “I was being hunted,” she defended with a gently voice. “I didn’t want to risk dragging you down with me.”

“I will wait till then in Heaven, I promise you. I promise, I promise.”

When you didn’t respond to it, other than the empathic smile on your lips, she continued: “I heard about this place only days ago. Figured it was worth a look.”

You didn’t have it in you to get mad at her. You had been concerned about her for months now - arguing be damned. It was pointless anyway. If there was anything you had been feeling, it was relief. Anger would be forced, and not only did you refuse to show it as an obvious consequence of your training, it simply wasn’t worth the energy now.

“Well, I am glad you were worried about me.” You confessed. “I’ve been worried about you too. Only, I had no way of checking up on you.” She hissed slightly at the words, humour laced within her tone: “I’m sorry.” “No, it’s okay,” you deny, even though the words kind of hurt. “I understand.” Considering the way we split.

You didn’t say those last words. They were just painful reminders in your head. “I’m just glad you’re still alive.” “Yes…” Ahsoka lightly trailed off, somehow knowing the words that had been going on in your mind. You didn’t linger on it.

“Will you stay here? At least for the night?” The sun had already begun to set, and dinner had long been served. In truth, you were ready to turn to bed after your ‘training’.

She seemed to hesitate to answer, but gave in after seeing your pleading face, another gentle smile tugging on her lips.

“For the night.”

“There's so many fighting to get past the Pearly Gates, But nobody ever wants to die or get saved.”

The last time you saw her must have been a little over a year ago. Since order 66, you had been travelling together, taking comfort in the mere company of each other. Growing up in the Jedi temple and groaning together had strengthened your bond significantly, but it was after the empire had risen that either of you began to realise that there might have been more than friendship there.

None of you ever dared to act on it, still convinced of the Jedi ways. It took years for that to fade, and even after that, the reluctance had been clear between the both of you. It didn’t help that neither of you dared to show it. It made the impression of unrequited feelings much stronger than they needed to be.

The last time you saw her was after you had gotten ambushed by a group of bounty hunters. Ahsoka would have usually handled them themselves, after you had gotten around with the blaster and medical supplies, but they had been too great in number. In the end, you had them cornered, and managed to get away, but this was not without a scratch.

“Their intentions aren't that good and I can smell the asphalt. That's their personal road to Hell being paved.”

“Next time I tell you to go left, you go left.” You scolded, kneeling beside the bench Ahsoka had been laying on. You had returned to your makeshift camp shortly after the attack, tending to Ahsoka’s injuries before you’d relocate. The smell of burning flesh penetrated the small tent, and the angry red mark on her side seemed to scream for attention.

“They would have killed you if it wasn’t for me.” She hissed through her teeth as you began to clean the wound, doing your best to remain gentle. “Yes,” you argued. “But now I am completely fine and you have a blaster wound in your side. The third one since we left Tattooine, might I add.”

Even though her side had been burning, the togruta still seemed to choke out a laugh, grinning at you in assurance. “That was the point.” When you didn’t return her smile, she looked at you more careful, her voice immediately taking a more concerned tone: “You’re fine, right?” “Yes.” You sighed, stopping the cleaning to look at her face. You pointed at her accusingly. “But I’m still mad at you.”

She nodded: “I deserve that.”

“And when we walk down the street The wind sings our names in rebel songs. And it's much too late when the fear is gone.”

Something within you sparked at her words, but you pushed the feeling down. You knew better than to make the best of this. If she really meant anything with it, she would have acted on it by now.

Thus, you turned back to your work, replacing the cleaning supplies with a bacta patch, gently tearing the plaster layer off of the bandage. “You make my stress levels fly out of the roof.” You muttered, not noticing the way Ahsoka’s expression softened as she read the worry on your face. She ignored the tug on her heartstrings.

“Sounds like me.” She merely hummed, squeezing her lips together as you applied the bacta patch. You rested your arms on the cot, checking for any more injuries on her body. When you found none, you shifted lightly to level with her face.

“Just… be careful next time?” You spoke, though it sounded more like a question. “And maybe listen to me for once?”

“I will meet you in the Next life, I promise you. Where we can be together, I promise you.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologised genuinely. You should have left it at that. In hindsight you never should have said anything. But something in her eyes made you want to. There was something vulnerable there and you would have been blind if you hadn’t seen it.

“Ahsoka,” you sighed. “We have lost so many things already. Don’t make me lose you too.”

She had noticed it too, that same softness. Not in her eyes, but in yours. Doubt clouded her mind. If there was a time, it was now. You were so close, so genuine, so beautiful. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest as she was praying to everything out there that you hadn’t heard it. But Anakin did everything for love, and it ended him up some place she never wanted to go. She had to push it down.

“You won’t,” she joked, but went on afterwards in a more serious tone. “I’ll be more careful.”

That was all you needed to hear. You wanted to hear more - of course. But the change in her features was so apparent. She was shutting you out again. Each time you came close, this would happen. You had learned to make peace with it.

“Thank you.”

“I will wait till then in Heaven, I promise you. I promise, I promise.”

“But I might fall sometimes, you know?” She teased. “So, you still gotta patch me up.”

And just like that, that look was back. As if it had never left. It seemed more genuine now, more meaningful. You hated how hesitant you were. Maybe if you hadn’t been, you would have actually gotten somewhere. But when she shifted slightly, you could have sworn she did that just to get closer to you.

And when you leaned in, she made no effort to lean back. In fact, she seemed to come even closer. Heat was flushing towards your face as your stomach suddenly felt very light. If you wouldn’t now, when would you?

Your hand inched closer to her as your lips finally connected. It was hesitant, light - almost not there if you hadn’t seen it. But when your hand found her shoulder, she reached to clutch to it, before returning your kiss with a little more pressure, assuring you that this hadn’t been a dream. The moment you tried to turn your hand to intertwine it with hers, she suddenly pulled back, sitting up as she swallowed harshly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t have.” Ahsoka shook her head, confliction swirling through her mind. “Why did you do that?” “I’m sorry.” You apologised again, cursing yourself for the wrong social cue. “Forget it happened. Impulsive action.”

You didn’t notice the way her face fell upon those words, nor the way her lip trembled lightly. You just continued to rant: “Adrenaline rush. Makes people do crazy things they usually wouldn’t do.” And that was what broke her. Of course; It makes you do crazy things you wouldn’t usually do. Why would you?

She got up from the cot, making her way towards the exit of the tent. “Ahsoka?” You called after her. “I need to get some air.” She managed to get out. “Yeah, no, of course.” You stuttered, now crestfallen on the floor as you watched her leave. “I’ll- uh, I’ll be right here.”

That was the last time you had seen her. You had heard her take off, leaving you at your camp with just a speeder to get you to the nearest village. You lost all contact afterwards.

“I will meet you in the Next Life, I promise you. Where we can be together, I promise you. I will wait till then in Heaven, I promise you.”

The walk to her room seemed somewhat comfortable, even though the memories now came flashing back more evident than ever. You wanted to get rid of them. She seemed fine now - surely it wasn’t worth getting worked up about.

“I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.” You spoke as you opened her door. She seemed to have notice the sudden shift while the two of you were walking, and turned to face you as she stood in her door opening: “I’m sorry if I make you nervous.” “No, it’s fine,” You shook off. “It’s been some time.”

She just nodded at that, shooting a quick glance in the room. “Thank you.” She said as she looked back at you. “For allowing me to stay here.” “Of course.” You smiled. “You don’t need to ask.”

When she didn’t respond, you turned slightly, pointing towards a door at the left end of the hall. “If there is anything, and I mean anything, that door is mine.” Then, you turned to leave, offering her a small wave. “Goodnight, Ahsoka.” “I am sorry I left.” She interrupted before you could set a step. “I shouldn’t have.”

One look was cast over your shoulder, though it wasn’t in sadness or frustration; it was a strange combination of remorse and peace: “You don’t need to justify your actions. Not to me.” “You deserve to know why.” She countered, seemingly adamant on making her point.

“Tell me about it tomorrow.” You smiled, an offer she seemed to be okay with. And with that, you continued your path.

“Goodnight, Ahsoka.”

“Goodnight.”

“I promise, I promise.”

[yandere-wishes]

⋆  ⋆ ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 ⋆  ⋆

Masterlist for newer, more polished stories. You can look up older stories/fics HERE. There’s a wider selection there 

💜Honkai Star Rail

▹▹Blade

ɴᴇᴏɴ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɴɪɢʜᴛᴍᴀʀᴇꜱ

It's late and you're tired. Trapped within a dreamlike trance trying to figure out if you're sick or just in love. Although to Blade you're just confused and need a little more persuading of how much he loves you.  

💜Genshin impact

Racing Au (Wriothesley, Neuvillette, kamisato Ayato)

Some racing snippets from the tracks w/ our fav genshin men.

▹▹Dottore 

1:00 am 

Dottore isn't the best at words, especially when it's past midnight and you both have an assignment due first thing in the morning. Yet as the clock tics onwards, he grows a bit bolder.

Comedic Tragedy

Dottore is lovesick and desperate. Reader just wants a life away from from the Akademiya. Neither get what they expected. 

▹▹Childe 

2:00 am 

The Tsaritsa sends two of her finest assassins to take out the head of the Kamisato clan. It's funny how repressed emotions and forgotten memories resurface at the worst times.

▹▹Neuvillette

Do Not Weep Hydro Dragon

There's a crack in Neuvillette's heart that bares your name. He sheds a tear for you each day. Yet once you return to Fontaine with your fiance. The cracks and tears begin to grow. 

▹▹Freminet

Sinking into the Depths

Freminet is desperate to take you diving with him. You are rather reluctant. 

▹▹ Baizhu

Yandere Headcanons

Just some headcanons setting up a longer story.~💜

Sweet like morning-glory

There's a melody humming within your bones. A tune Baizhu strums with his needles and drugs. The ballade sings of a love more deadly than any toxin.

▹▹ Rosaria

TBA

▹▹ Lynette

Yandere Headcanons

Yandere Lynette is such a conniving sweetheart!!

▹▹ Wriothesley

WereWolf

Heritage pricks Wriothesley like a valley of thrones, it's unnerving to find someone with the same pains. 

Yadere!Werewolf! Headcanons

Wriothesley has a secret...it's a pleasant surprise to find someone who harbors the same burden.

💜 Obey me 

▹▹ Leviathan

Self-loathing

Levi’s caught in a trance, tempted and bewitched by the devildom’s new resident. Someone who’s self hatred rivals his own. Someone who might just comprehend his pain...

💜 Twisted wonderland 

▹▹ Leona Kingscholar

My Queen My Prey

You and Leona are opposites that keep getting in each other's ways. And yet there isn't a single damn thing Leona wouldn't do for you.

▹▹Idia Shroud

Dr.Frankenstein

Idia wants to prove the world wrong. To show that there is more to life than good and bad, villains and heroes. But somewhere along the way, he falls in love with what he is trying to prove.

Just Like The Gods

Idia falls in love, death and destruction soon follow. He can’t really help it, it’s in his blood.

▹▹General 

How To Be A Villain In Seven easy Steps (Riddle, Leona, Azul)

It’s easy to be the villain when life has already casted you for the role from the day you were born...

💜Record Of Ragnarok 

▹▹ Nikola Tesla 

Sleepless  

Tesla doesn't sleep, can't sleep. He has something he needs to finish, something to fulfill. Maybe for once in his miserable existence, his inventions can be acknowledged for what they truly are. You're trying to prove yourself before the world comes to an end. And if that means absorbing every form of toxicity your childhood crush has to offer then so be it.

💜Jujutsu Kaisen

▹▹Sukuna 

MONSTERS

Monsters aren’t born they’re made, but Sukuna stumbles across the rare exception…

💜Marvel

▹▹ Miles Morales 

Imposter Syndrome

Miles is the villain. You are the hero. You two shouldn't be in love...

The Perfect Girl

Somewhere along the line the villain won and the hero lost. Now your life is nothing more than a cautionary tale.

The Spider's Web

You are a hero, you feel it within your bones. Calamity may strike and villains may rise. But you are still a hero, it's time to start acting like one. 

▹▹ Miguel O’hara

Comic Book Love

You finally realize that you and Miguel are stuck inside a comic book romance.

Spider Love Bite

Miguel loves you, this you know. But neither the story nor the hero ever stops long enough to wonder if you love him too.

▹▹Michael Morbius

Late Night Calls

Sometimes Morbius is lucid enough to remember your name...

💜Barbie

▹▹Ken

He's Just Ken

You're just Barbie, perfect on the outside, dead on the inside. He's just Ken, neither perfect on the outside nor on the inside. 

💜Moriarty The Patriot

▹▹William James

Anomaly

Reader is an anomaly. A noblewoman of foreign descent. She doesn't belong here. But oh how she wishes to burn the world down just like William.

💜Star Wars

▹▹General 

Our Pretty Little Girl (Yandere!Anakin Skywalker x Reader x Yandere! Darth Maul)

You try to escape from two fearsome Sith Lords. Surprisingly they take it rather well.

▹▹Darth Maul

Yandere! Darth Maul Headcanons

What's Darth Maul like as a yandere? How does he treat his darling?

Yandere Darth Maul Headcanons (Ft. Darth Talon)

You're Maul's little doll. Trapped between two scary sith lords.

▹▹Anakin Skywalker

TBA

💜Dune

▹▹General

I love you, It's ruining my life

When they realize they love

💜Miscellaneous

Superstar AU

He's the hottest new talent and he's only got eyes for you. Based on the movie Priscilla.

▹▹Dracula

A Confession letter

Dear Dracula...

▹▹ Monster High

Yandere! Monster High Ghouls

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. You're an eldritch creature living amongst monsters. A piece of you lives within each of them. And a piece of each of them lives inside you...

[omarera]

So so proud of Omar. I am so happy he is let in to new types of media. SvD and DN are the biggest national morning news papers in Sweden. He has been in evening papers and might be silly but I am glad he is covered in these papers. And now also Hellenius Hörna and Så mycket bättre. Thank You TV4. Now let’s hope national radio stations let his music in as well.

Here are some bits of the interview in SvD. It resembles his Sommarprat and nothing new for us really but a really nice interview with a nice tone in it and it will reach many households in Sweden that still has morning papers…

He talks about where he was a few years ago from the interview and I think it’s beautiful that he opens up about feeling lost, experimenting and on his journey to get to know himself and feel confident being who he is and that he also dares to vocalize his dreams. Remember that Jantelagen is strong in Sweden and vocalizing such big dreams is not usual. His journey continues!! I so want for him to reach his goals❤️

They start off with his FO&O and talk a out his bringing and his mom and dad and moving to Sweden.

One thing he hasn’t touched so much on before is how being known so young affected him:

“It was the sickest thing I've ever been through. It was both a kick and very scary to break through, especially when you were alone in town or going home on the bus. I was up in Stockholm and felt very watched. It was an emotional rollercoaster.”

He takes a deep breath.

“Every single person my age has known about me since I was 14 years old. It has been very intense and probably affected me in different ways. I've probably become more shy and stick mostly to my friends that I've had for many years.”

(We know he always pick stay home and that he is very close to his friends and has a circle of friends he feels safe with. And then about after FO&O)

“I released a few singles, but then the pandemic came and everything was put on hold. That's when it started.

Omar Rudberg puts one hand in his baggy leather jacket pocket and looks out through the Connection Hall in the Slaughterhouse area, where we met on a cool autumn afternoon.

“I was incredibly lost. Both in my professional role and in myself. I had no idea who I was or what I was going to be, what I liked and didn't like.

He set out on an experimental journey.

- I tried to find myself and started hanging out very intensively with friends. We hung out every day and became almost like a collective. It was incredibly fun and above all nice to see people who were in different ways.”

(I also liked this part where he talks about his creativity: )

“In the new homeland, the song and dance continued to be palpable, as did Omar's wild imagination. By the age of eight, it was so intense that his parents took him to a child psychologist.

- What they reacted to was that I didn't need toys. I could just enter another world, be chased by dinosaurs or have the worst action movie in my head. But I wasn't crazy, the child psychologist noted, just a child.

The creativity and musical gift can be traced to the grandmother and the mother. Early on, the latter ensured that Omar participated in talent competitions, often with success.

(And then more in creativity and using it to find yourself)

- My friends and I started trying different types of clothes. We played music and got dressed up. Some tried to put on makeup and nail polish. I really experimented. Those who are not in the know immediately think that a guy who wears make-up is gay or transgender - that bothers me. Make-up should not have to have an orientation, it should be for everyone. Now I wear black eyeliner when I feel like it without being ashamed.

Playing with the outside became a way to find home more in one's inner self, and the fact that Omar was named Best Dressed Man of the Year by the magazine Café this spring is something of a receipt for that.

- I have realized that I have to feel comfortable, stable and free with who I am if I am to be able to move forward in life. Clothes clearly play a role in that. They can also help me get into a certain character more easily.

(There is more text in YR and Karusell but he gets back to: )

“Although it is as an actor Omar has become known in recent years, it is the music he wants to focus on the most in the future. A few days ago, the new single Off my mind was released and tonight is the premiere of this year's So much better on TV4, where Omar is one of the participants.

Perhaps the participation will also be revenge for Omar as a solo artist.

- Yes, I hope people are reminded that I'm actually a singer at heart, it's music that I love the most. I'm looking forward to releasing an album eventually and especially to playing live.

A decade has passed since Omar Rudberg first broke through, when I ask what he thinks life will look like in another ten years, he first laughs at the thought of being 35. Then comes the answer:

- I want to have done the sickest gigs, have had several hits and be out on a world tour. I want to be in a Latin American TV series or movie and for my own company to be worth an incredible amount of money. I will not buy a Lamborghini, but a nice apartment for my mother so that she can be free as a bird. I want to give back everything I got from her.

He runs his hand through his slightly wavy hair and walks over to the mirror to get ready for the photo shoot.

- I would never have dared to have it this way a few years ago. Thankfully, I am much more confident in myself now.

You're not as lost anymore?

- No, I have grown a lot in recent years and now I feel stable enough to take myself forward in life. But I'm probably not quite there yet, the journey continues …

Translated bits from: Elin Liljero Eriksson - 23 oktober 2023 SvD Magazine.

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink

Day 4: Shoe Shine (Boot Worship)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairing: Medic x Male!Reader

Summary: You and Medic have the base to yourselves tonight

Tags: Boot Worship, praise, boot kissing/licking/humping, sub/dom, edging, teasing

Word Count: 2.7k

Masterlist

“Medic,” you whispered, barely able to get a word out between frantic kisses.

It had been weeks since your team's last victory, weeks since the rest of the mercenaries had gone out to a bar to celebrate, weeks since you and Medic had the base to yourselves. Of course, the two of you could always sequester yourselves in his private quarters, but you had to keep quiet, cushion the bedframe to keep it from slamming against the wall, and even then there was a chance someone could interrupt, especially since Medic’s quarters were directly attached to the infirmary. Needless to say, both of you were pent up.

“Medic,” you repeated yourself, still trying to get his attention. You finally got a chance to speak when his lips moved to your jaw, gradually making his way to his true target, your neck. “Medic, I want to try something.”

Medic didn’t look up, but he made a soft noise of acknowledgement. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, and he seemed reluctant to leave there.

“I want to try something new,” you went on, trying to get him interested enough to look you in the eye.

“Go on, schatz. I’m listening.” It certainly didn’t seem like he was listening, considering how he immediately began suckling at your neck. You stifled a moan, trying to continue.

“I want- oh god- your boots-”

That finally got him to stop. Medic pulled away to look at you. His grin sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. “Oh?” he said, tilting his head curiously. “What about them?”

“Fuck, you know what I want!” You had hinted at this before. Some lingering glances as he strutted down the halls of the base here and there, not to mention the slight disappointment in your expression every time he took them off before fucking you. You never said anything explicitly, but it was an obvious message to an observant man like Medic. Still, it seemed he wanted you to admit it loud and clear.

“Nein, liebchen. I couldn’t possibly imagine what you are thinking,” he said. His tight grip on your waist kept you from squirming. You were seated on his lap, and he held you there firmly, so simply dropping to your knees and showing him what you wanted wasn’t an option. Your face burned as you looked Medic in the eyes and sighed.

“I want to kiss your boots.” There were many, many other things you wanted to do with those boots as well, but for now you just needed Medic to hear you admit something.

He grinned impossibly wider, baring his teeth in a wolf-like manner. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he crooned, letting you go and allowing you to slide off his lap. Medic moved forward until he was seated at the very edge of the bed. You braced yourself against the floor as you leaned down, now face to face with the black leather you craved. They were shined to perfection after every battle, and you took note of the way the polished footwear reflected even the dim light in Medic’s quarters. “Go on, hase,” Medic said, driving you on.

You had been working up the courage to ask Medic for this for so long, and now you just wanted everything to be perfect. You hadn’t expected him to fall into the strict, dominant role so soon, yet it seemed to fit him perfectly. Now you just had to persevere and let your inhibitions go. Building up your conviction, you leaned down to one boot and pressed your lips to the surprisingly cool leather. Your hands balled into fists as you made your way up to the ankles. You were trying not to shake too much.

The kisses remained chaste. Even though outright licking the boots didn’t seem too far from what you were already doing, you didn’t want to get too ambitious. You reached out to grip his leg, practically digging your nails into his calf as you made your way up the shin. Medic made a soft noise of approval as you finally reached the end of the boot and rested your head against his knee, breathing hard. When you looked down, you weren’t surprised to see your cock straining against your pants.

You felt Medic’s fingers brushing over your scalp, playing with your hair. It was not unlike how one would pet an attention hungry dog. You let your eyes fall shut, hugging yourself even closer to his leg with a happy hum. “Tired already?” he asked, the question sounding completely innocent. A sudden pressure between your legs proved otherwise. You jumped, eyes snapping open to see that Medic had placed his foot against your crotch, pressing down just enough to make you whine. It didn’t hurt, but it certainly wasn’t the most comfortable feeling. Your erection twitched against the sole of the boot despite the discomfort.

“No, I’m not tired!” you said, shaking your head frantically.

Medic chuckled, low and threatening. “Then get back to work,” he said, moving his foot away. You sighed in relief. “You’ve been neglecting the other boot, liebling. Finish your work.”

“Yes sir,” you said as Medic put the opposite boot forward for you. You repeated the same actions, kissing your way from toe to ankle. Your hands were clasped around that ankle for dear life, your grip tight and desperate. You had to keep your hands occupied, knowing that Medic wouldn’t want you to touch yourself. He enjoyed watching you squirm far too much to allow that.

For all his talk of ‘neglecting the other boot,’ he didn’t even let you finish. You were halfway up the shin when he stopped you. “Alright, I think that’s enough for now.” You moved to stand, a bit disappointed that you work had been interrupted, only for Medic to clasp a hand on your shoulder and push you back down. “I didn’t say you could get up, did I?”

You looked up at him, wide eyed and clearly perplexed. You seemed to have forgotten your words, simply staring longingly at the bed. Your gaze darted between him and the mattress, looking for an explanation. All you got was a mischievous smile. Clearly, Medic had something up his sleeve.

“You are so adorable when your confused,” he said, reaching forward to pinch one of your cheeks teasingly. “Don’t worry, I think you’ll like what I have planned. Just spread your legs a bit for me.”

You did so, still kneeling, albeit in a slightly more awkward position, with your knees spread out. It would have been easier if you had something beneath you to support your weight, like a step stool. Well, there was no step stool, but you were soon provided with one of Medic’s boots, his foot now positioned beneath you so that you were straddling it. Now you were starting to catch on, glancing up at the grinning man with eager eyes. “May I?” you asked, not even trying to keep the tremble out of your voice.

“Of course, liebchen.”

You didn’t hesitate after that, grasping onto Medic’s leg and beginning to grind against the instep of the boot. You moaned, shameless and desperate for any kind of sensation. It felt good, even through the thick fabric of your pants. Still, you knew the smooth glide of the leather would feel even better against your bare cock.

“Gott, you are quite the sight.” Medic took a fistful of your hair, craning your neck upwards so you could meet his gaze. That damn smirk hadn’t left his face since you began. He was lucky you found his smug and evil smile to be so hot. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes!” you answered quickly, as if Medic couldn’t already see the pleasure you were experiencing. “Fuck, yes! It feels so good, sir!”

“That’s it, keep going,” he said, ready to encourage you and degrade you within the same sentence. It made your head spin in the best possible way. “Rut against my leg like an animal, mein kleiner hund.”

If you could have seen your cock right now, you were sure precum would be leaking down the shaft. As it was, you were already certain that a tell tale wet patch was forming over your groin. You needed Medic so badly. Simply humping his leg wasn’t enough, and he seemed to agree. Almost as if he had sensed your thoughts, Medic pulled your hair again, forcing you up. You whined at the sudden lack of sensation, despite knowing the best was yet to come, especially when you caught a glimpse of the generous tent that Medic was sporting.

“On my lap, with your back to me.” His order was curt, but the barely restrained lust in his tone was still very obvious. You had barely sat down before you felt Medic’s fingers, already slick with lube that you hadn’t even noticed him retrieve. He must have had it out beforehand, most likely stashing the bottle under a pillow the moment he heard that the others were going to the bar. “As much as I love seeing the expressions you make, I think this position will be more convenient for tonight.”

You felt a finger slip into you, gasping as it pumped in and out at a steady pace. Already you craved more, but you knew you had to prepare yourself. You took deep breaths, staying calm and relaxed until Medic could slip in a second finger, and then a third. Your whines turned to moans. You could barely restrain yourself from rocking back against Medic’s hand.

“You take my fingers so well, taube, as always.” You practically glowed beneath Medic’s praise, your face somehow managing to turn an even brighter shade of red. “Such an eager little thing.”

“Please, please more!” you begged, practically shaking with need.

Medic kept you steady with his free hand on your waist. He didn’t respond, but you felt him withdraw his fingers. You squirmed, instinctively begging him not to stop. “Hush now,” Medic said. “You will get what you want.”

That promise, along with the sound of him unzipping his fly, immediately shut you up. You were just barely aware of his tip at your entrance before he was pushing in. Medic went slowly, letting you adjust and allowing you to feel him inch by delightful inch. It was awkward at first, but you always managed to adapt fast.

Once you were comfortable, Medic wasted no time. You yelped, feeling his hands grasp your waist. With a quick motion, he lifted you and slammed you back down onto his cock. “Ride me, liebchen. Be a good boy for me.”

That was an order you were more than eager to follow. It was slow going at first as you struggled to find purchase on the edge of the mattress. Once you had some decent leverage though, you were frantically bouncing on Medic’s cock. He caressed your body in return, running those large hands up your chest and down your sides, paying special attention to areas that made your breath hitch, sometimes causing you to fall off rhythm for a moment.

The way that Medic worked you up to this moment was calculated. You knew he had long since noticed how you looked at his boots, but now you wondered if he had been planning for the moment when you would finally confess your little kink. You could imagine him fantasizing about the day that you would finally worship at his feet before riding him until completion. That mental image only spurred you on, and you began to feel the familiar buildup of pleasure deep within you.

You bit your lip, trying to keep it together. You knew that Medic liked to have complete control. That included control over when you were allowed to come. You didn’t even need to be told to hold back anymore. The struggle never got easier though, especially when Medic made a point to whisper sultry things in your ear while you writhed beneath him, or in this case, on top of him. You were grinding your hips against his, no longer properly riding him as you were before, and of course, he took notice.

“You’re squirming so much, hase,” he said, feeling the way your hips flexed beneath his hands, hands that would tighten and leave finger shaped marks on your skin. “Are you close?” All you could manage in response was a nod and an utterly pathetic noise, drawn out and high pitched. “What was that? I can’t see you nodding from back here. You’ll have to use your words.”

“Fuck! God damn it, I’m close!” you said through clenched teeth. Medic chuckled, amused by the string of curses that flowed from you, as well as the tirade of desperate pleas that followed soon after. You were working off of pure streams of consciousness at this point, unable to think of anything besides your imminent orgasm.

“Well, I suppose that counts,” he said, reaching over to wrap his fist around your cock. You were arching back against him before he even began moving his hand. Once he did, your mind went blank. You desperately called his name as he stroked you in time with how you rode him, keeping a steady pace even as you began to come. You could feel his breath against your ear as he whispered soft praises to you, easing you through your orgasm. That was up until he changed his tune completely, suddenly grasping your hips and thrusting up into you hard and fast.

“Fuck! Medic!” you cried. It wasn’t a sound Medic was unfamiliar with, but usually you were only this emphatic on the battlefield. He much preferred hearing you scream his name in this context. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Medic thrust into you, barely taking notice of how overstimulated you were. His arms were wrapped around your waist, holding you close until he finally went still. You felt him shudder against you, riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm.

What followed were several moments of stillness and silence. Medic rested his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily. You felt the rise and fall of his chest behind you, slowly evening out to a resting pace. His hands squeezed at your body, mainly focusing on your thighs, massaging the flesh there much like how a cat would knead a pillow.

“You’re so good, liebling,” Medic said, breaking the silence. He kissed your neck, making you sigh and relax, practically going limp in his embrace. “So gut für mich.”

That relaxation wouldn’t last long though. Medic lifted his head, and it was impossible to miss that familiar, devious laugh. You tried to turn your head, craning your neck in vain to try to look at him. “What’s so funny?”

“It only seems fair that since I made you come so hard, you should do a little favor for me.” He took your chin, tilting your head forward and down so that you were looking at his boots once again. You let out a shaky exhale at the sight, your release having landed on the once spotless leather. “You wouldn’t mind helping me clean up, would you, hase?”

Oh, this really was your lucky day. You were being offered an opportunity to lick Medic’s boots, a whole new level of reverence that you were eager to breach. Medic withdrew from you and you practically fell to your knees, legs still too shaky to support your own weight. Your tongue passed over your lips momentarily, anticipation gnawing at you. You held Medic’s gaze for as long as you could before leaning down and tasting his boot from toe to instep. You really had made a mess of it. As you worked your way further up, you were certain you could see Medic’s cock already hardening again. Given that you were also beginning to throb with renewed lust, you had a feeling that this night was far from over. For now, though, you would focus on the task at hand, the taste of yourself and polished leather mingling upon the boots that you had waited so long to worship.

[peachy-panic]

To Steady Your Hand

Do No Harm, still early in the Sebastian Contract. 

WARNINGS: BBU/BBU-Adjacent, past surgery, lingering medical issues, nerve damage, maybe the closest I’ve come to some genuine moments of fluff (sprinkled with some pain)

Sebastian is going out on a limb. He can recognize that. But even after several weeks in the house, Jaime gives very little outward indication of what he genuinely enjoys. What he likes. In no particular order, he seems to derive joy from exactly three things: running outside, cooking with Sebastian, and cleaning. The last one makes Sebastian nervous, because it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to infer that he might be feigning some of that enthusiasm to fall into the role he thinks he’s here to fill. It does, however, seem to bring Jaime a sense of peace sometimes, so he tries not to interfere.

Still, it’s not enough. His goal was never to give Jaime a place to survive in stasis until the next bad thing comes along. He wants him to be happy here. He wants to make him feel like he has the space to be a person, and that means knowing what he likes. So when Sebastian finally catches a glimpse, he latches on with both hands.

They are in the checkout line at the drugstore when it happens.

It had been a precarious trip, both of them a little on edge after their first attempt at a store-based outing went to utter shit. Thankfully nothing of note happened, other than Jaime hovering a little closer than normal, his eyes scanning their surroundings every few seconds as if they were being hunted for sport. By the time they’re ready to pay, Sebastian is so eager to get them both in the safety of his car, he almost misses it: they way Jaime’s eyes catch on the end cap closest to the register and stay there.

Jaime, who has been flighty and anxious since stepping foot through the door, is suddenly engaged and… curious?

Sebastian does a double take, then follows his eye line. He doesn’t know what he expected, but a flutter of endeared surprise catches in his chest as he looks at the display of nail polish.  

After a brief, internal tug-of-war, he decides to sit on the information for now. Buying it now might draw attention to the fact that Sebastian caught him staring, and he doesn’t want to embarrass him or worse. So he pockets his change from the bored-looking cashier, grabs his bag, and they head home.

A few days later, on his way home from work, Sebastian swings by the store to pick up more lunch meat, fresh strawberries, and a bottle of Essie sky-blue nail polish.

He places it on the countertop as he’s unloading the bag. Jaime, who is perched in a barstool across from him, blinks down at it. He is quiet for a long time.

Sebastian does his best attempt at casual. “The color caught my eye.” He shrugs. “Have you ever painted your nails before?”

Color blossoms in Jaime’s cheeks, and Sebastian feels the first pang of doubt. Maybe this wasn’t the right move. Maybe it’s too soon after the pharmacy and he thinks Sebastian is calling him out. But Jaime doesn’t look away from the small bottle as he shakes his head, so Sebastian barrels forward.

“I used to do it sometimes. In college, mostly,” he rambles. “I wanted to before then, too. I tried it once, in high school, but my dad—” Oop. No. Nope. Go back. Abort mission. “Well. Anyway, I haven’t done it in years, and I saw this and thought… Maybe we could try? Together? If you want. Only if you want to.”

To his distress, Jaime frowns. “I…” he starts, then stops, looking down at his hands all of a sudden. He places one over the other, his fingers delicately hiding what Sebastian knows to be an incision scar. “I can’t promise I’ll be very good at it. My hand. Sometimes it’s hard, with… It’s not always very steady. I have trouble, sometimes.”

A rising dread creeps up on Sebastian, one he cannot will away. He swallows. “Jaime.” His voice comes out a whisper. “When did that start?”

He knows. He knows the answer, and he’s terrified of it, and he needs to hear him say it out loud, all at once.

Jaime ducks his head, drawing his shoulders up half and inch, and Sebastian knows he needs to tread carefully. Needs to pull himself back before he upsets him even more. But he needs to know.

“It doesn’t get in the way, mostly,” Jaime says in lieu of an answer. “I hardly notice it anymore.”

Almost definitely a lie.

Sebastian notices his own hands are shaking now, so he presses them flat against the countertop. He just needs to rip the bandaid off.

“Jaime. Was it after the surgery?”

The surgery.

A piss-poor fucking euphemism for the institutionalized, medically-sanctioned torture that it was.

The surgery that Sebastian himself performed on a patient who was strapped down and screaming to the point of unconsciousness.

The surgery he performs over and over in his nightmares.

Jaime gives him all the confirmation he needs when he says, “It’s not your fault.”

A surprised laugh sputters out of Sebastian, but it sounds more like a sob. Feels like it, too. Because of course Jaime would say that. Of course his first reaction is to show Sebastian undeserved grace. Of course his first instinct is to take care of Sebastian’s feelings first.

“Can you…” He swallows, trying to be professional. “Can you tell me what it feels like? Is it painful? Numb?”

“It almost never hurts,” he says quickly, like he’s dying to reassure him further. “It’s…” He runs his fingertip over the inside of his opposite index finger. “I can’t really feel this part anymore, but really, it only affects me when I’m working with small stuff. I just don’t know how precise my work would be with painting nails.”

Sebastian is still caught in his own private tunnel of horror. The way Jaime is speaking about it so casually only twists his insides tighter. He is living with permanent nerve damage from a scalpel that Sebastian wielded. He had volunteered—insisted—to be the one to perform the surgery under some misguided notion that he would somehow be sparing him further pain and dehumanization, but his inexperience or his nerves or Jaime’s rightful panic or… or something had caused him to slip and sever a nerve, and he didn’t even know.

How did he ever expect Jaime to trust him? Or even like him?

He doesn’t know how to make this right. He doesn’t know if it’s possible to even come close.

“Jaime, I—”

“I’d like to try,” Jaime says quietly, looking up at him through earnest eyes. “Painting our nails. If you still want me to. If you don’t mind that it's a little shaky.”

Sebastian blinks away the burn in his eyes. These aren’t his tears to cry, anyway. And if Jaime doesn’t want to talk about this now, as he very clearly does not, the last thing he should do is force it.

He smiles at him, and it’s only a little bit forced.

“I don’t mind at all.”

****

Jaime really does want to do a good job.

He is a little more than suspicious about where this idea sprouted from, but at least Sebastian is kind enough not to admit that he found Jaime looking at the store.

He doesn’t really know why it caught his eye in the first place. It’s not like he’s ever been overly into nails before. The only association he has is a distant memory, almost completely faded with time, of him and his mother at the kitchen table. It was summer, he’s pretty sure. He can remember the natural light coming in from the bay window and the faint scent of his mother’s favorite peppermint tea mixed with the sharp, clean smell of nail polish. He would watch her paint each hand, and she would sometimes offer to do his, but he could only even sit still long enough for one or two.

He blinks away the half-memory before it can take him, resettling himself in Sebastian’s living room. They’ve each taken one side of the coffee table, legs folded under them on the soft carpet. The little blue bottle and a box of tissues sits between them.

“So,” Sebastian says, drumming his fingertips on the wood. “Who wants to go first?”

This catches him off guard. Jaime studies him for a moment, making sure he’s come to the right conclusion before speaking it out loud. “You… want to paint mine, too?”

“Oh.” Sebastian’s eyebrows raise a fraction, as if he hadn’t realized it wasn’t obvious to both of them. “Only if you want to! I was thinking we could paint each other’s, but if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, too. We don’t have to even do this at all. I can return this. Or just throw it away. I can dump it down the toilet and we can pretend this never happened.”

Jaime has lived with Sebastian long enough to start to recognize his nervous humor, and he’s fairly certain this is it. It’s strange, the feeling that he might be able to laugh at something his Keeper says, but he has to press his smile into the side of his hand to keep it contained.

“What?” Sebastian laughs, seeming genuinely relieved by his amusement. He picks up the bottle, waving it between them. “You think I won’t go pour this down the drain right now? Because I will.”

Jaime nods, humoring him. “I believe you,” he says. “I… Yes. You can paint mine, if you want to.”

Sebastian’s smile falters, just a little. “You’re sure? You really don’t have to do it just for me.”

Jaime folds his fingers over his palm, studying the pink-pale color under his nails. Then he nods. “I want to try.”

Jaime offers to go first. He figures if he can study Sebastian’s technique, he might be able to emulate it when it’s his turn and do a better job. He watches as he shakes the bottle, a small clicking sound rattling around the bottle. Sebastian starts to reach for him but stops before he comes close to touching Jaime’s hand.

He looks up at him, smiling apologetically. “Is it alright if I touch you? Just here,” he says, tapping the table near Jaime’s fingers. “Just to steady your hand?”

When Jaime takes a moment to respond—not out of any real hesitation, but perhaps caught off guard by the request for permission—Sebastian pulls his fingers back an inch.

“You can say no. We’ll make it work either way.”

Jaime clears his throat, suddenly thick with saliva. “I think it’s okay.” It’s Sebastian who hesitates this time, so Jaime tries again, more confidently. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Yeah?”

Jaime nods.

“Okay.” Slowly, slow enough to broadcast his movements, Sebastian slips two fingers under Jaime’s, pulling his hand toward his side of the table. He checks in with a glance at least twice before he gets to work.

And this is… Jaime doesn’t know what it is. Sebastian’s skin is warm and soft under his, his touch so gentle and undemanding that he doesn’t know what to do with it. It’s not the first time Sebastian has touched him. A slew of memories from the clinic—most of which he would rather not revisit—come to mind. He had always been kind, both in spirit and in touch, but something about the tenderness he is showing Jaime now knocks him off balance.

He watches, a bit hypnotically, as his long fingers drag the brush over each nail, leaving him spotted in blue. Small flecks smudge onto his cuticles and the skin around his nails, but it still looks good. The color was a good choice, he thinks.

“Still okay?” Sebastian asks when he finishes the first hand.

Jaime nods and surrenders his other hand easily. Sebastian’s eyes only linger on his scar for a second or two before he sets his focus on the job at hand.

“I was thinking,” Sebastian says after a stretch of quiet, “maybe we can set you up with a physical therapist. Someone who… well, who works with…”

“Companions,” Jaime offers.

He winces. “Yes. Under the table, though. Someone who would treat you kindly. That would be non-negotiable.” Jaime looks up at him and Sebastian looks up from his work long enough to scan his expression. “Would that be something you’re interested in?”

“For my hand,” Jaime surmises. Sebastian nods. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

“Well, the matter of my responsibility to you as a human, a doctor, and the person whose name is on your contract is a whole other debate.” He flashes a smile that looks more like a grimace. “But all that aside, it wouldn’t be out of obligation. It would be because I genuinely want to help you. And this might be a real way I could do that.”

A few seconds pass. There is a strange sensation in Jaime’s chest, like stretching a muscle he hasn’t used in a long time. His first instinct is a collection of pre-conditioned responses that were hammered into him in training—polite agreement, smooth avoidance, gratitude. None of them feel right at this moment, and the indecision chokes him up.

Sebastian saves him by speaking again. He drops his freshly painted pinky finger and meets his eyes. “You know, Jaime,” he says, “I think maybe I haven’t done a good enough job of making that clear to you.” In anyone else’s voice, in any other inflection, the words might have set him on edge. The words don’t scare him now.

“Making what clear?”

“That I really want to help you.”

“You have,” Jaime is quick to assure him.

“No, but—” Sebastian pauses, breathes. “I want to do more than the bare minimum. You deserve more than the basic necessities it takes to survive. I know this is… I mean, I can’t even really imagine what it’s like for you to try and talk about this, so we don’t have to linger. But what happened to you? What keeps happening to you? You don’t deserve to live like this, Jaime. There is nothing about you that makes you any less of a person.”

Jaime knows, somewhere buried deep beneath layers of toxic conditioning and learned behaviors, that there is truth in what Sebastian is saying. He believed that once. But Jaime knows now that things aren’t so simple; that justice and righteousness are only as fair as the systems that uphold them. And in the eyes of this governing body, this law, this society, he is less. And ultimately, one man’s objection to that isn’t enough to change anything.

But maybe Jaime can let it be enough for this moment. Maybe he can let it be enough for him, just for a little while.

“You know someone?” Jaime asks tentatively. “A physical therapist?”

“I could find someone,” Sebastian promises. “There are people out there. Networks of them who feel the same way I do. I know people who—” He stops suddenly, the tips of his ears going a little pink. “Well. Anyway, yes I could find someone. You would have a say in it, too. I wouldn’t force you to see anyone you weren’t completely comfortable with.”

Jaime’s answering silence is heavy with ingratitude, he knows it is, but his head is spinning. This privilege that would have, should have, once been a right doesn’t feel like it belongs to him or that it ever could. Despite all that Sebastian has done to prove otherwise, the smallest part of him still bellows out in warning: Lie, lie, lie, trap, trap, trap. But it isn’t either of those things. Jaime knows it isn’t, deep down.

“You don’t need to answer me now,” Sebastian assures him softly before he can respond, and Jaime feels a little bit relieved and a little bit like a failure. “In fact, we can let this drop completely. This—” he waves the tiny paintbrush between them “—is meant to be fun. But… You know, just something to think about. Yeah?”

Once again, Jaime substitutes a nod where his words fail him, and they ease back into the task at hand.

When it comes time to paint Sebastian’s nails, Jaime does an okay job. Neither of them mention the slight shakiness in his grip or the way his precision sometimes veers off course. When he goes out of line, Sebastian just hands him a tissue, he wipes the polish from his skin, and they move on.

He mirrors the position that Sebastian took with him, sliding two fingers under his. As he works, he can’t help but study the hands in front of him. There is a faint pinkish-white to the flesh around his nails, and slivers of peeled skin beside his cuticles. Jaime thinks about the times he’s seen him biting his nails, usually when he is nervous. He always seems to be a little bit nervous around him.

He also notices a stillness in him that can’t be anything but intentional. The way every movement is slow and careful, and the way he keeps his contact overly gentle, convincing Jaime, reminding him, over and over, that his hands are not to be feared.

When they each have two coats of sky-blue at the tips of their fingers, they stay on the floor but lean back against the couch, side by side.

“Can I take a picture?”

Jaime blinks at him. “Of… me?” He doesn’t remember the last time anyone asked him that. He’s had photos taken in the last couple of years, of course, but always in much different contexts, and never with his permission.

Sebastian looks a little sheepish, pulling out his phone. “Of our hands. Would that be okay?”

“Oh,” he breathes. “Sure.”

They hold their hands out in front of them, close enough to fit into frame but not enough to touch, and Sebastian snaps the photo. Jaime doesn’t ask to look at it, but Sebastian shows him anyway.

A week later, when Jaime spots a four-by-four print pinned to the refrigerator with a smiley-face magnet, he finds himself smiling right back.

**

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