#combine path function

[viktorthemachineherald]

What actually happened to Jayce and Viktor in the end? And why didn’t Ekko’s Z-drive destroy everything within its blast radius?

TL;DR: the only timeline that could have worked was the one where Viktor gives Jayce the Acceleration rune, where Ekko invents the Z-drive, and where Jayce saves Viktor and gets his partner back.

Something we’ve seen pointed out is that the world rune that worked in this timeline was the Acceleration rune, which has the function of transportation through time and space. 

Ekko’s Z-drive was built by inverting Jayce’s Acceleration rune (this is important later).

We know from his experiments that the limit for reversing time is only 4 seconds. Any further back and it causes catastrophic harm to his surroundings. It’s implied that the further he overextends his Z-drive, the more disastrous the damage and radius of effect.

In the final battle against Viktor, we see Ekko overextend his Z-drive far beyond 4 seconds. Then, he yeets it at Viktor, whose mask is shattered from the impact.

We know that turning back time beyond 4 seconds causes catastrophic destruction of the surrounding areas: Jayce and Viktor, and perhaps countless others should have been caught up in the blast. But instead, we see something different:

Time stands still for a moment, courtesy of the boy who shattered time. 

Now things happen all in a manner of seconds: In the astral plane, we see Viktor comment on the anomaly that Ekko has created.

It’s something that Viktor as smart as he is, couldn’t have conceived— leave it to Ekko (and lest I forget, Heimerdinger and alt-Jinx) to show them all up.

This is debatable, but I firmly believe that Viktor with his awareness of all time and space, could have escaped or even survived the explosion.

It’s only Jayce, the only person who could show him what he showed him, that gets through to him in the end and convinces him to give up his Glorious Evolution.

"In all timelines, only you can show me this". Ekko is the catalyst but Jayce was the key.

Jayce returns the Acceleration rune to Viktor which kicks off a chain of events. The souls under Viktor’s control are freed from his grasp. Back in the real world, and back to the explosion, we see the following happening almost simultaneously: 

The blast from the Z-drive extends from Viktor’s reach to Jayce’s

The Acceleration rune embedded in Jayce’s wrist starts to glow from being activated by Jayce and Viktor in the astral plane

Jayce and Viktor are absorbed into the gem and the gemstone blips out of existence 

Recall that the Z-drive was created through an inversion of the Acceleration rune. To multiply something by its inverse, is to divide it by itself. The Acceleration rune multiplied by the Inversed Acceleration rune, cancels out the effect of the other: nullifying both the anomaly from the Z-drive but also the rune.

This explains why there was no larger explosion. Viktor and Jayce (who chose to stay) sacrificed themselves and took themselves out of the equation. Jayce and Viktor were the anomalies— just like the Z-drive should not have existed, neither should have Hextech.

Through all the timelines and permutations of runes that Viktor tried, the only combination that could have worked was in the timeline with the Acceleration rune. It couldn’t have worked if it was any other rune, if Ekko had never invented the Z-drive, or if Jayce had never convinced Viktor to give up his path of destruction, and got his partner back.

In short: Boy Savior saves the day; Love Wins

[chansdoll]

창빈 ─── let me take care of you

♡ pairing ៸៸ gym trainer!changbin x afab!reader genre ៸៸ angst, fluff, smut ៸៸ cw ៸៸ vanilla , praise kink (if u really really squint), oral (f. rec) , shower sex , there's also a link hidden in the fic c; ♡ synopsis ៸៸ literally no plot just smut a/n ๑ here's a lil bini fic since someone requested this ! [ 3.2k words ] ♡ masterlist

smut below the cut - minors gtfo.

another day, another gym session.

except this wasn’t just any gym session—it was with changbin, your personal trainer, and quite possibly the most attractive man you’d ever met. you first crossed paths a few months ago when you decided it was time to pull yourself out of the post-breakup slump and hit the gym again. changbin had been scanning for potential clients when he noticed you, and from that moment, your fitness journey took an unexpected turn.

from the start, you found him absolutely captivating. his physique was the stuff of admiration—a flawlessly sculpted body that practically exuded strength and confidence. but it wasn’t just his physique; his face was just as alluring. full lips, a radiant smile that seemed to light up the room—it all worked together to make your heart skip a beat.

still, it was more than just his looks that drew you in. changbin’s kindness and patience stood out. he truly understood the challenges you faced, encouraging you every step of the way with unwavering support. and given your single status and lack of intimate company for months, he was the only person who had come to know your body as well as you did—albeit in a very different way.

but lately, things had begun to shift. each training session seemed to carry a weight that went beyond fitness. the tension between you had been growing steadily, layer by layer. subtle touches lingered a second too long. his warm, tender smiles felt more personal. and the compliments—sweet, sincere, and unexpectedly intimate—hung in the air like a charged whisper, leaving you wondering where this might lead.

you had just wrapped up a grueling workout and were now easing into your stretches with changbin by your side. today’s session had been particularly intense, focusing heavily on lifting, and you’d pushed yourself harder than ever. the ache in your muscles was proof of your effort, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. clearly, changbin was proud of you too.

“you did great today,” he praised, his voice warm and encouraging.

he knelt beside you, helping guide your leg toward your abdomen as you stretched. his touch was firm but careful, his movements precise, yet you could sense the restraint in him. his eyes flicked to your form briefly, but he quickly refocused, clearly trying to remain professional. it wasn’t easy, though, considering the snug spandex leggings that clung to every curve of your lower half and the sports bra that, while functional, accentuated your breasts, which were pressed against the fabric with every deep inhale you took.

“thanks,” you replied breathlessly, switching to your other leg. changbin shifted to adjust his position, his pelvis hovering just above your ass as you lay flat on the mat. the closeness of his body, combined with the strength in his arms as he pressed your leg toward your torso, sent a wave of heat surging through you.

it settled deep in your core, and you fought to push the feeling away. determined not to let your thoughts spiral, you turned your head and focused your gaze anywhere but on him, desperately trying to ignore the way his touch and attention was making you feel.

as changbin adjusted his position, his touch lingered just a little longer than necessary. his hands were warm and strong, holding your leg securely as he leaned in to guide your stretch. you could feel the tension in the air thickening, subtle but undeniable. the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the musk of your workout, making your senses hyperaware of his proximity.

“relax into it,” changbin murmured, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. his breath brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine despite the heat coursing through you.

you exhaled slowly, trying to follow his instruction, but the pressure of his hands and the way his body was aligned with yours made it difficult to focus. as your muscles stretched and lengthened under his guidance, your thoughts began to wander to places they shouldn’t.

his hands moved slightly, adjusting the angle of your leg. the contact was innocent enough, yet it sent a spark straight to your core. his thumbs pressed gently into your thigh, massaging the tension there, and you couldn’t suppress the faint hum that escaped your lips.

“you okay?” he asked, his tone low and careful, though there was a hint of something else in it—a slight rasp that betrayed his own composure.

“y-yeah,” you managed to reply, your voice unsteady.

but changbin didn’t move away. instead, his gaze flickered down to you, his dark eyes studying your face. “you’re holding tension here,” he said, his hands sliding down slightly to work at the tight muscles in your hips. the motion was slow, deliberate, and his fingers pressed firmly yet gently, igniting a slow burn deep within you.

your breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him. his face was so close now, his lips parted slightly as though he was about to say something more. but no words came. instead, the moment seemed to stretch endlessly between you, the space between your bodies almost nonexistent.

you could feel the heat radiating from him, the firmness of his hands, the way his body hovered just above yours. and then, as though caught in some invisible pull, your eyes locked. the air crackled with unspoken desire, and suddenly, all the restraint from earlier seemed to crumble.

changbin’s hands stilled against your body, and you felt his grip tighten slightly, as if grounding himself. his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he glanced away for a moment, exhaling deeply. “i-i don’t… we shouldn’t…” he began, his voice low and uneven, though it lacked conviction.

you reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm. “it’s okay,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady. you leaned up slightly, your body arching toward him, driven by a pull you could no longer resist. “i don’t mind, if you don’t.”

and in an instant, you two were in the back of the gym, messily making out inside the employee showers. you had the curtain covering you both as you kissed each other, as well as the water running so nobody could hear the sinful noises of you two claiming each other.

the water was cascading down both of your bodies, getting your workout attire drenched. changbin let out a moan as he pressed you against the tile wall, grinding his length against your thigh.

you eagerly tugged his shirt off, wanting to see more of him.

in the haze of passion, your hands trembled slightly as you pulled changbin’s drenched shirt over his head, tossing it onto the wet floor without a second thought. the sight of his bare torso under the dim, steamy light took your breath away—every muscle, every defined line glistening under the cascade of water.

your hands roamed his chest, fingers tracing his abdomen before sliding up to his broad shoulders. his skin was warm beneath your touch, and he shuddered as your nails lightly grazed him.

“god, you’re so beautiful,” you murmured, your voice breathy and full of awe.

changbin’s lips found yours again, this time more urgent, more fervent. his hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling your soaked body flush against his. you gasped into his mouth as the rough texture of the tile wall contrasted with the heat of his touch. his hips pressed into you, and the friction sent waves of pleasure coursing through your core.

he broke the kiss momentarily, his forehead resting against yours as his hands slid up, fingers brushing over the fabric of your sports bra. “are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice husky but tinged with care.

you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “i’ve never been more sure,” you whispered, pulling him back into a searing kiss.

his hands moved with purpose, tugging at the hem of your sports bra. you raised your arms, helping him remove it, and the cool air of the shower hit your exposed skin before the warmth of his hands replaced it. his palms cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened peaks, drawing a gasp from your lips.

the steam swirled around you both, cloaking the scene in a veil of intimacy as changbin’s lips left a trail of kisses down your neck and collarbone. the sound of water hitting the tiles mingled with your quiet moans and his deep groans, creating a symphony of passion that seemed to echo in the small space.

your fingers fumbled with the waistband of his shorts, eager to feel more of him. he let out a shaky breath as you pushed them down, your touch exploring the contours of his hips and thighs. you could see the outline of his thick, hard cock through his briefs, and your core ached so intensely you could feel a heartbeat between your legs.

the tension that had built between you for weeks was now unraveling, every kiss, every touch, bringing you closer to a point of no return.

changbin’s hands slid down to your hips, gripping them firmly as he pressed against you. his breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this.”

you smiled against his lips, your fingers threading through his damp hair. “then show me,” you whispered, and with that, he captured your mouth again, his fingers curling under your leggings and yanking them down as well as your panties without hesitation.

you blushed, feeling bare and exposed in front of him. it had been a long time since you had been bare before a man, and changbin could sense your anxiety. “you look fucking gorgeous,” he growled, yanking them off your legs fully before kneeling in front of you and lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. you responded with a tiny gasp, realizing what he was preparing to do. changbin's dark eyes locked with yours as he knelt before you, the water cascading over his sculpted frame. his hands slid up your thighs, strong yet gentle, as if reassuring you of how much he wanted this—wanted you. the heat of his breath contrasted with the cool tile against your back, and the intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine.

“you don’t have to be nervous,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing but laced with hunger. “let me take care of you.”

before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. the sensation was electric, a mix of tenderness and desire that left you trembling. his lips moved slowly, trailing upward, each kiss stoking the fire coursing through your body.

when his mouth finally reached your core, your breath hitched. his tongue was warm and deliberate, exploring you with a confidence that left no doubt he knew exactly how to drive you wild. your hand flew to his hair, gripping the wet strands as your head fell back against the wall, a soft moan escaping your lips.

he moaned against your cunt, his tongue swirling and flicking over your sensitive flesh with relentless determination. the wet sounds of his mouth on your skin were just barely audible, driving you to new heights of pleasure. he savored every inch of you, the scent and taste that he had craved for so long.

a sharp cry escaped your lips as he wrapped his lips around your clit, suckling and lapping at it with fervent desire. his face was buried between your thighs, his breath hot against your skin as he devoured you without restraint. your body arched and quivered under his skilled touch, each wave of pleasure building higher and higher until it consumed you completely.

“bin…” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the running water.

he growled in response, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you. his grip on your leg tightened as he pulled you closer, his mouth working you with an intensity that made your toes curl. the sensations were overwhelming, the combination of his touch, the warmth of the water, and the way his tongue moved against you unraveling you completely.

your free hand pressed against the tile, trying to steady yourself, but it was no use. the tension building in your core was too much, too fast. “oh my god,” you gasped, your voice breaking as his name tumbled from your lips like a prayer.

changbin glanced up at you briefly, his eyes smoldering with desire as he watched you come undone above him. his lips curved into a small, cocky smile before he doubled down, his tongue and lips moving with a precision that left you breathless.

your body arched involuntarily, the sensations overwhelming as the pleasure built to a crescendo. your grip on his hair tightened, and with one final, broken cry of his name, the tension snapped, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. your legs trembled, and the one leg you were using to keep yourself standing in the shower was barely holding you upright.

as you came down from the high, your chest heaved, and your legs trembled. changbin stood slowly, his hands steadying you as he cupped your face and kissed you deeply, letting you taste the passion you’d just shared.

“you taste so fucking good,” he whispered against your lips, his voice rough and breathless, as if he’d been just as affected by the moment as you were. you two made out again, lost in the shared taste of each other, until you broke it. “fuck me,” you panted, your voice soft and breathy.

“please, fuck me.”

changbin’s breath hitched at your words, his hands gripping your hips tighter as if grounding himself. he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes burning with desire yet softened by a hint of hesitation. “you want it?” he murmured, his voice low and rough, barely audible over the water.

you nodded, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “please, changbin.”

something in him shifted, the tension and restraint he’d been holding onto dissolving. his lips captured yours again, this time with a hunger that left no room for doubt. his kiss was fervent, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands roamed your body, every touch igniting a new wave of heat.

with a slow, deliberate motion, he freed his thick, pulsating cock from its confines. it was girthy and heavy, throbbing with an almost painful urgency that sent shivers down your spine. just looking at it made you nervous for what was to come, but also filled you with a primal desire you couldn't deny. the veins along its length were prominent and promising. you could feel the heat radiating off of it, making your own body flush with anticipation.

with a fluid motion, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the tiled wall. the water cascaded over both of you, amplifying the intensity of every sensation. you could feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your core, and the anticipation made you gasp.

his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a heated path of kisses as his hands gripped your thighs to steady you. “you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice dripping with reverence and need.

“bin…” you whispered, your fingers threading through his wet hair, tugging lightly as your hips rolled against him, seeking more.

he groaned at the friction of his cock grinding between your slick lips, the sound deep and guttural, as he adjusted his position.

one hand slipped between you, and you shivered as his fingers teased your entrance, his touch deliberate and confident. “i need to feel you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

“then do it,” you urged, your voice trembling with need. “i’m yours.”

his gaze locked with yours for a fleeting moment, the intensity in his eyes sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. slowly, he entered you, the stretch and fullness drawing a gasp from your lips as your nails dug into his shoulders.

his thick length filled every inch of you as he pushed deeper and deeper. the weight of him pressed against your skin, the sensation almost overwhelming but also intoxicating. his fat cock stretched you to your limits, each movement sending electrifying sensations coursing through your body. you could feel every ridge and vein as he plunged into you, claiming you completely.

“fuck,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust.“you feel incredible.” he moaned breathlessly, his brows knitted together as he fought the urge to cum right away.

“so do you,” you breathed, pressing a kiss to his lips before rolling your hips against him. the movement sent a shiver through him, and he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, building in intensity.

lost in the moment and completely overtaken by his desire, changbin's grip on your hips tightened as he began to lift you effortlessly, moving your body up and down on his cock with a strength that made you feel weightless. his motions were powerful and unrelenting, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body as if he was claiming every inch of you.

the sounds echoing in the steamy shower were shamelessly erotic—your bodies colliding with wet, rhythmic slaps, punctuated by the increasingly loud moans spilling from your lips. it was such a stark contrast to the tentative quiet you’d both maintained when you first slipped into the shower, and yet now, the tension between you had unraveled into something raw and untamed.

you couldn’t help but glance down at him, the sight alone making your head spin. the way his strong arms supported you, his muscles flexing with each movement, and the determined, almost primal look on his face as he drove into you—it was intoxicating. the intensity of it all made your walls flutter around him involuntarily, earning a deep groan from his lips that only fueled your desire further.

your back arched against the tiles, the sensation overwhelming as waves of pleasure coursed through you.

your body tensed as his cock repeatedly hit your g-spot with relentless force, causing a deep pit to form in your stomach and your clit to pulse uncontrollably. the pleasure was overwhelming, almost bordering on pain, but you couldn’t help but crave more of his intense thrusts. after a few more thrusts, you were trembling, your core fluttering with impending release.

“changbin… i’m so close,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the tension in your body built to its peak.

“me too,” he rasped, his lips brushing against yours as his movements grew faster, more erratic.

with one final thrust, the tension snapped, and you cried out his name as the pleasure consumed you, your body trembling in his arms. he followed moments later, his groan vibrating against your neck as he held you tightly, riding the waves of ecstasy together.

the water continued to cascade over you both as you clung to each other, your breaths mingling in the steamy air. changbin pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his voice warm and tender as he whispered, “i’ve waited so long for this,”

you smiled, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw as you replied, “so have i.” and as the water continued to fall around you, you knew this was for sure the start of something between you two.

tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek

©chansdoll do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[katelynnwrites]

Here’s To Hoping You’re Worth All My Time (I Hope You’re Worth My Time) | Lea Schüller

warnings: some swear words, description of migraines in detail

word count: 4451

summary: five months after you and lea break up, you’re convinced you’ll never cross paths with her again. life has a funny way of bringing people back together though.

a/n: realised that if i want to read schülli fics, i have to write them so here we are 😊

The headache started somewhere in the middle of your third class.

Rather gingerly, you rub your temples and try to ignore the pulsing pain. Despite your best efforts, the pain continues to grow till it’s clear that you are going to have one of your full blown migraines.

You get migraines every so often but with have gotten better at managing them over the years. The combination of cutting out caffeine, medication and getting enough sleep have worked so that the truly bad ones, the kind that keeps you incapacitated for hours have become few and far between.

One hasn’t happened for a while and you suppose, with a wince that you were inevitably due for one.

Now that it’s happening though, it is all you can do to text your classmate and tell her you won’t be able to make the rest of your classes.

The bright glare of your phone screen makes your head ache more fiercely. With squinted eyes and more than some difficulty that you read her reply in which she hopes you feel better soon and that she will convey your apologies to the professors.

That being done, you try and fail to focus back on your current class. By the end of it, you are desperate to go home and just lie down with all the lights off.

Normally you would take the bus but today even the thought of it is too much. A ride sharing service would be the quickest way back to your apartment.

The ride itself passes in a blur, nausea has begun to affect you and you spend the twenty minutes back to your apartment concentrating on trying not to throw up.

When the driver drops you off at your apartment, you stutter out a quick thank you before you run up the stairs, taking it two at a time to get to your bathroom.

Just in time too because you gag uncontrollably, whatever is left of your breakfast coming up unpleasantly.

You stay beside the toilet, coughing until your stomach somewhat uneasily settles.

With watering eyes, you stand up shakily to rinse your mouth and then reach for the bottle of Eletriptan that usually sits on the shelf above your sink.

Except that your hand closes around nothing. Your migraine medication isn’t there.

You stare at the empty space uncomprehendingly until it hits you.

It’s at the place where you babysit. Sometimes the parents would pay you extra to stay overnight with their kids when they had late night work functions. Last week you’d stayed over and brought your medication over as a precaution.

The family is nice and you know they would have no problem bringing over your Eletriptan if you asked. The problem is that they are currently on vacation in France.

You can actually picture where you left your bottle of medication. On the counter of their guest bedroom.

Blinking back tears of frustration and pain, you bite your lip. You hadn’t gone through a migraine without medication in years. Especially not one as severe as this.

‘Fuck.’ You say out loud.

‘Fuck.’ You repeat and then do the only thing you can do.

Going into the kitchen, you get a glass of water and take it into your bedroom.

Thankfully, the blinds are already closed so you don’t have to deal with the bright sunlight making your head hurt more than it currently is.

You manage two sips of water and then toe off your shoes, collapsing into bed.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you exhale and inhale, slowly counting to a hundred and then eventually to five hundred.

Everything is okay, you attempt to convince yourself as you start counting from one again.

You ignore the fact that even with your pills, your migraine usually takes an hour to subside. There’s no telling how long it will go on without the medicine.

Another deep breath in and out. Over and over again.

Somewhere in between, you briefly entertain the notion of going to a pharmacy and getting some over the counter migraine medicine instead. But none of that stuff has ever worked for you and even if you are distressed enough to try, you know you are in no condition to leave the house.

At the very least, the fierce ache in your head has not gotten worse. It isn’t better either though. It still feels like someone is stabbing you right between your eyes and god it hurts.

It’s nothing short of excruciating but there is nothing you can do except to keep your eyes closed, remind yourself to keep breathing through the pain and hope for the best.

Then you remember.

You have another bottle of Eletriptan. The one you left at Lea’s place.

Against your will, salty tears slip down your cheeks. Fucking hell.

It’s not as if you can get to it. You’re not able to go over and beg. Even if you are willing to go to that length, your pride would never allow it.

Lea had told you to get out. So you did. The end.

Besides, your ex is probably away for international break or an away game of sorts. The chances are high that she isn’t even in Munich right now.

That’s what you tell yourself as another agonising hour crawls by.

It’s been three hours since you first got back and you don’t know if you can take much more. A particularly harsh throb hits and that makes your decision for you.

With a weak sob, you cave and reach for your phone.

The brightness level is on the lowest setting but the sudden glare still has you scrunching your face in discomfort.

Finding Lea’s contact is as much as you hate it, easy. For some unknown reason, you hadn’t yet been able to bring yourself to delete it.

Tapping on it before you can second guess yourself, you put the call on speaker.

It rings and rings. To the point where you think she won’t answer.

Right when you are ready to admit defeat, a voice comes through, ‘Hello?’

‘Lea?’ You whisper.

‘No sorry, this is Obi. Lea’s not here right now. Can I take a message?’

You hesitate. You remember Obi, Lea’s brunette best friend. She’d been nice to you back when you were dating but telling her that you are practically pleading with Lea for your much needed medicine seems far too personal.

A few seconds of awkward silence pass and then there’s some muffled noise on the other end.

‘Hi it’s Lea. Sorry I took a bit.’

You don’t actually need her to introduce herself. The sound of her voice is etched in your memory, as clear as day.

Pausing again, you wonder if you should really do this. Lea could be stubborn and closed off sometimes but she had never been mean. As bad as things had ended between you both, there is surely no way that the striker’s changed so much that she would be cruel enough to withhold your medication.

That is, if she hadn’t simply thrown it away.

You’re taking too long to decide because the blonde tries again, ‘Hello? Is anyone there?’

‘It’s me.’ You softly answer.

‘Oh.’

She didn’t sound angry. Or annoyed. You’d take that.

‘I-I’m not interrupting anything am I?’

Your ex exhales quietly, ‘We’re kinda in the middle of a gym session.’

‘Sorry I wouldn’t be calling but I-I really need your help. It’s sort of an emergency.’

You wait for her to reply but nothing comes through.

Then rather steadily she asks, ‘What’s the emergency?’

Swallowing the last of your pride you say, ‘Um…Could you please run back to your place and get something for me?’

‘You want me to leave training the day before a big game to go back to my apartment and get something for you?’ Lea slowly states.

Wincing, you forget she can’t see you and nod. It sounds far worse when she puts it like that. Resignedly, you accept your fate of burying yourself back under your blankets and trying your hardest to sleep this migraine off.

‘You’re right. It’s stupid. I’m sorry for calling, I shouldn’t have asked. I’ll just-’

Lea cuts you off, ‘What is it?’

‘What?’

‘What do you need me to get?

You blink in surprise, ‘My Eletriptan. The migraine medication I take. I left a bottle of it at yours and um, never got it back. I don’t have another one presently and I need it.’

The forward lets out a breath and it is enough to have you wondering what the hell you are doing. Asking your ex that you had a far from amicable break up with, for a favour?

Quickly backtracking once more, you rush out, ‘It’s alright. You don’t have to. I’ll figure something out.’

‘No. It’s okay. You need it. I’m assuming you’re at home?’

‘Yeah.’ You breathe, hardly daring to believe your ears.

‘I’ll be there in half an hour. Lie down and close your eyes in the meantime.’

‘Okay.’ You manage.

It’s all you can get out.

Like Lea had requested, you stay laying down and let your eyes slip close.

They fly open again at the realisation that the blue eyed woman is actually coming over. Your apartment is in dire need of a good tidy up, the stress of the past few weeks, no doubt a factor into today’s pounding headache have left you behind in your cleaning.

Lea will definitely see the state of your place, a sharp contrast to her own which had always been neatly organised in the past. You think about getting up and trying to get rid of some of the mess but even the mere act of sitting up makes your head spin.

So you lie back down and keep your attention on breathing through the pain. The Bayern Munich player is just dropping off your bottle of pills. It’s not like she is going to stick around so why should you care?

Except that you do. You have always cared when it comes to Lea Schüller. Such is your weakness for her.

But any sort of movement has your body protesting so you have no choice but to stay very still, not moving from your spot as you drift in your own head. One deep breath in…and one deep breath out.

Till a soft, ‘Hey.’

You automatically try to sit up, a sharp whimper tumbling from your lips as the resulting pain shoots through your head.

Lea’s hand grabs onto your elbow, steadying you and she murmurs, ‘Take it easy. Just stay where you are alright?’

Forcing your eyes open, you take her in as best you can.

The same brilliant blue eyes, lean athlete’s build and shoulder length blonde hair. Still absolutely gorgeous.

You blink up at her and she asks, ‘How long have you been like this?’

It’s hard to think but you make an effort to do so.

‘Since two this afternoon?’

Lea’s eyes widen and she curses under her breath in her native language.

‘You’ve been like this for practically four hours?’

You make a poor attempt at shrugging, ‘Did you...?’

The striker snaps back into focus, ‘Course.’

She reaches into her jacket pocket and there in her hand, is a very precious bottle of prescription medication.

‘Two right?’ She asks even though she is already shaking the correct dosage out onto her palm.

You simply nod, struck speechless by the fact that she remembers.

The blonde makes sure you are sitting up and then carefully holds out your pills, along with the half drunk glass of water from your nightstand.

Staying upright just long enough to accept the medicine and swallow it with a mouthful of water, you soon lay back down amongst your pillows.

‘Thank you Lea.’ You hoarsely whisper.

‘You’re welcome.’ She says, with an expression you can’t quite place.

The pain in your head pulses but you know that is not the reason why you can’t read her because if you are being honest, she’s always been somewhat of a mystery to you.

Breathing in once, twice and then thrice, you realise that contrary to your earlier expectations, the German woman is not turning to leave right away.

‘I’m really sorry to have bothered you. I hope your game goes well tomorrow.’ You offer eventually.

Lea just keeps looking at you with that same indiscernible gaze.

After a long minute, she replies, ‘Thanks and it’s fine. We were doing my least favourite core workouts anyway.’

The striker glances down at her phone, obviously taking note of the time before she adds, ‘I should be getting back though. Obi can only cover for me for so long.’

‘Right. Sorry again to have pulled you away.’

Still, your ex doesn’t make any move to leave.

Instead, she twists the ring on her index finger around a few times and then says, ‘I’ll come back after the session to check on you. It shouldn’t take more than two hours.’

Your mouth drops open in shock.

‘You don’t need…It’s okay. Once the meds kick in, I’ll be alright. You know that.’

After all, this is not your first migraine that Lea’s experienced. When you were still together, she would put your head in her lap and run her fingers through your hair. It was soothing and calming and the tiny featherlight kisses she used to press to your forehead never failed to make you feel better.

But that was the past and well…you can hardly ask her to do that now.

‘No I do know. It’s just that…you look like shit.’

Lea’s words are blunt and she folds her arms across her chest, blue eyes seeming rather challenging as she continues, ‘You’re going to need actual food coming off this migraine and I’d bet you don’t have anything of the sort lying around here.’

You frown, thinking of the instant noodles that make up your pantry.

It’s the only answer your former girlfriend needs because she repeats more or less of what she’d verbalised earlier, in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

‘I’ll be back in less than two hours. In the meantime, try to sleep.’

Then she’s gone. Disappearing just as suddenly as she’d appeared.

Too exhausted to try and figure her and what the fuck has just happened out, you bury your head under a pillow to block it all out.

You know the drill now. To get through a bad migraine, you need to stay very very still. Any movement would do you no good.

Count to a hundred, breathing in and out all the while. Reach five hundred, reset your counting and keep taking in deep breaths.

It takes another hour but slowly, the Eletriptan begins to work. Little by little, the headache recedes till you’re able to slip into a fitful sleep at last.

******

When you wake, your room is much darker than it was earlier. Not even the tiniest hint of sunlight peeks through your blinds.

After a few minutes, you decide that the pounding in your head has subsided enough movement to become feasible once more.

Sitting up warily, you catch sight of the time displayed on your alarm clock.

Abruptly, you remember that Lea has said she was coming back.

Wide awake now, you stop only to throw on a hoodie before opening your bedroom door. Someone is definitely here, you can see that your kitchen light is on.

Before you even get halfway down the hall, you smell something amazing…and familiar.

At the doorway to your kitchen, you pause just to look at Lea for a long moment.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if your migraine had been so bad that you are coming up with new symptoms like hallucinations.

Then you dismiss the thought because food has never smelt so good. Not even in your wildest dreams.

She’s standing with her back to you, stirring a pot of what must be stew, made from her mother’s recipe.

She used to make that for you when you’d had a long day. The ensuing rush of nostalgia has you bracing a hand against the wooden frame of the door.

Your former girlfriend hasn’t physically changed much in the five months you have been apart, bar the new tattoo on her arm. Dressed in Bayern’s signature red training outfit and with her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, she’s still all lean muscle, as tall and terribly attractive as she’s always been.

Now that your migraine has dulled, you are better able to appreciate exactly how stunning she is.

You watch her biceps flex as she begins to cut up some greens.

It was those well built arms that you had first fallen in love with. Not because of how fine a figure it gave her but because of how safe you had felt when she’d held you in them.

That’s all irrelevant now, swept to the side due to a more pressing issue. The one that is Lea Schüller standing in your kitchen.

Opening and closing your mouth, you manage to stutter out, ‘W-What are you doing?’

To her credit, the blonde doesn’t flinch.

Her voice is soft but sure when she answers without turning around, ‘Making dinner.’

‘I can see that…but why?’

‘Because you always feel like crap when you don’t have proper food coming off one of your migraines. The one you were having looked especially bad too.’

Two thoughts occur simultaneously. One, is Lea taking care of you? Two, what does this mean?

Detaching yourself from the kitchen doorway, you try to play off the way your heart rate is speeding up. Your head is spinning again, this time because of confusion instead of the headache.

‘You could have just dropped off takeout.’

Now, Lea deigns to look at you, stopping her cooking. Her eyes stay on you as she searches for something you don’t know.

She’s seemingly satisfied after a moment.

‘But I didn't, so here I am.’ She says evenly.

You don’t know how to answer that so you close the remaining distance to your little breakfast counter and take a seat there.

The German woman resumes her cooking and you find yourself questioning her ability to look so composed. How is she looking so at ease here, cooking stew in your kitchen, looking for all the world like the past five months hadn’t happened? Like you two had never broken up?

Neither of you speak again till dinner is ready.

You fetch bowls and spoons from your cupboard, Lea serves both portions.

Setting your bowl in front of you, the Bayern player sits down across from you for the first time in- well, five months.

Then she looks up, blue eyes that are as clear as crystals, meeting yours.

‘Lea…what are you really doing here?’ You barely audibly murmur.

The striker sighs, pushing her bowl away from her and leaning back into her seat.

‘The truth?’

After a long drawn out silence in which she runs her thumb along the handle of her spoon, a restless gesture of hers and you resist the urge to reach across the tabletop to soothe it, Lea admits, ‘I missed you.’

You let her words sink in, trying to work out how you feel about them. Lea had missed you. That means something doesn’t it? Do you want that to mean something?

The answer to that, is so obvious that you can’t lie to yourself. Of course you want it to mean something. You’ve missed Lea like crazy. Every single day since the split.

Your former girlfriend sets her spoon down, gaze downcast as she mumbles, ‘I should leave.’

‘No!’ You start to shake your head, then gasp at the pain that flares up when you do.

Massaging the sides of your temple, you say, ‘Please don’t go. Lea, I-I missed you too.’

A quiet puff of air leaves the blonde, ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d…moved on.’

‘From you?’ Your laugh comes out a touch bitter.

‘I didn’t. I couldn’t.’

Then a thought strikes you and you glance at the German woman furtively, ‘Did you move on?’

Lea blinks as if she had not expected you to ask.

‘I’m here aren’t I?’

Part of you wants to say, ‘Well…for five, nearly six months, you weren’t.’

The Bayern Munich player must sense it because she softens, ‘No. There hasn’t been anyone since. You’re…you. I don’t think there is any getting over you.’

You didn’t know how much you’d been afraid of a different answer till Lea said that. Actually, afraid doesn’t quite cover it, terrified would be a better description.

Relief courses through you so powerfully that you feel lightheaded with the intensity of it.

With how heavy the air is now, you force yourself to pick up your spoon and start on the stew. The last thing you need is to do something stupid like tell Lea you’re still head over heels in love with her.

The blonde takes the cue that you’re done talking for now and the only sound in the room is the clinking of spoons against the bowls.

As expected, the stew is delicious. It had always been your favourite even though Lea never made a meal that you didn’t like.

Like she knows you are thinking about her, the German woman glances up from her bowl, catching your eye and then smiling.

It’s a soft, gentle smile. Reminiscent of old times. Lea making you both dinner, Lea taking care of you after one of your migraines, Lea just being…there. Just constantly there, by your side and looking at you like she never wants to be anywhere else.

You wonder if this is going somewhere. Is this an olive branch or just closure?

Before you know it, your spoon is scraping the bottom of your bowl. The warmth and saltiness of the stew have done wonders and you feel much better.

Lea can see it too because she says, ‘There’s more in the pot if you’d like.’

With a small noise of thanks, you fill up your bowl with a second helping.

Sitting back down, you stir the stew around for a moment and watch the steam rise.

Tentatively, you ask, ‘How’s the football going?’

‘It’s good. The team is doing good. How’s university?’

‘Same. I’m just starting to look for job openings for after my graduation.’

Lea fiddles with her ring, ‘Are you still thinking about teaching?’

‘That’s lovely. It’ll suit you.’

‘I’m pretty sure I want to teach kindergarten.’ You elaborate.

The blonde nods, ‘That suits you too.’

You two fall silent again.

Biting your lip, you try to come up with something to say. It’s strange, almost sad how awkward things feel now. Once upon a time, you had been so comfortable with each other. You’d been open with Lea in ways you never had been with anyone else. It was mutual.

Have things changed so much? Is it possible for a way back?

‘Lea?’

‘Yes?’

‘I just…’ You stop messing around with your food, forcing yourself to look at her properly.

‘I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the things I said. The last time we saw each other, I said a lot of cruel and awful things that I shouldn’t have. I did not mean them and I’m really sorry.’

Lea puts her spoon down, ‘I’m sorry too. You weren’t the only one who said things she didn’t mean.’

Her words are genuine, you can see it in the bright blue of her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you blurt out, ‘I still love you Lea. I wish we’d never broken up.’

Surprise colours Lea’s pretty features.

‘I wish we’d never broken up either. There’s not been a day where I stopped loving you.’

‘Oh.’ You breathe.

The forward goes on, ‘Letting things end after our argument was a mistake. A huge mistake, mostly on my part. I wanted to call. I should have called.’

‘I’m not blameless…I wanted to call too but you were so angry. I-I thought you didn’t want me to call. I thought that you’d never want to hear from me again.’

Lea rests her elbows on the table, leaning closer to you. Your heart begins to beat more quickly, you’re certain you aren’t misreading the flicker of hope in her expression.

Swallowing hard, the German woman murmurs, ‘You called today.’

‘I did. You dropped everything to come over. Made me dinner too.’

Blushing lightly, Lea murmurs, ‘I was sort of trying to make a grand gesture.’

You smile, ‘It worked.’

Lea begins to grin, ‘It did?’

Almost like she can’t help herself she asks, ‘Do you think…Can we give us another try?’

A hundred things rush through your mind. Happiness and relief blooms in your chest.

Eagerly, you say, ‘I’d like that.’

Lea’s smile begins to take on a giddy edge and she reaches an open hand out across the table.

You take it without a split second’s hesitation.

Lea closes her fingers around yours, gaze alight with affection and pure contentment. It is a look you’d never thought you’d see again and it fills you with a sunshine like warmth.

‘Finish eating my love.’ She finally says, gently letting go of your hand.

The term of endearment causes a tingle of joy to spread through you. Enough so that you don’t stop smiling for the rest of the meal.

When you’re both done, Lea washes and you dry. She flicks some soapy water at you, her giggles filling the space.

You’d missed it. You’d missed her. You tell her so and she pulls you into her arms.

Her chin rests on your shoulder and she whispers, ‘I missed you every single second of every fucking day.’

You breathe in her smell, taking comfort in it and the safety of her arms once again.

‘Let’s never do that again.’

‘Deal.’ Lea promises.

Then she seals it with a kiss and oh my…you’d forgotten what it was like to be in heaven.

Lea’s lips are incredibly soft, the kiss slow and sweet. It’s everything and more, better than you’d remembered.

When you both part, there’s a single tear making its way down your cheek.

In a tender gesture, Lea wipes it off with the pad of her thumb.

A small relieved laugh escapes her, ‘I think we’re going to be okay.’

You pull her even closer, mouth quirking upwards against your lover’s lips because you know now that you’re never going to let her go again. This is going to work, you’d do your damndest to make sure of it.

‘I think we’re going to be more than okay.’

[thevalleyisjolly]

I think there's room to say that Bix' character arc has been messy and inconsistent this season and that her character's exit (bearing in mind that there are still three episodes left for her to come back) was only ever going to be death or leaving. She could have been much more active in the Rebellion and she should have been. Even if she didn't take on a field agent role like Cassian, I don't think it would negatively affect the pacing too much to have at least a couple scenes where she's working at the Rebel base or actively participating in rebel activities.

It would have been cathartic to see her go after Dedra when she learned her location; there's equally an argument to be made that the Rebellion isn't about pursuing personal justice or revenge and that the mission was always assassination because of the threat Dedra posed, not because of her crimes against Bix and the citizens of Ferrix. I don't fully agree with that, there's always an element of the personal in revolution (see: the way Bix eliminated Gorst which was a combination of both assignment and vengeance). Then again, we see how hard it was for Cassian to even line up a shot on Dedra; she's learned from the riot on Rix Road, she's not coming out in the open during an active operation. Could Bix have gone to Ghorman hunting Dedra? Yes. Very arguably, she should have. I just don't think she'd realistically get the chance to kill her on Ghorman (although it would have been satisfying to see her try, and also I'm not holding out hope but there are still three episodes where Dedra is alive and Bix is out there). They were only able to go after Gorst in the first place because they had an inside man high up in the ISB who deliberately left him exposed and poorly guarded; Dedra was in the middle of a barricaded Imperial headquarters surrounded by both Imperial troops and angry protesters.

Other people have written about this much more eloquently, but yes, Bix leaving was poorly executed. I don't think, however, that her decision to leave was necessarily a bad one; quite apart from who is canonically around in Rogue One, it reopens the assertion of her independence from Cassian which we saw in Season 1 where she loves him but also has no time for his unreliability and wishy-washiness. What I primarily take issue with is the execution; I think they could have made it much more about her coming into her own as a rebel (maybe a storyline about her inability to kill Dedra making her realize that the struggle cannot just be about the wrongs that were done to her?) and I would have liked to see her directly tell Cassian about it and have that conversation (even argument) properly.

I wrote a bit about it after the episode, but it's not surprising that Cassian is wavering in the Rebellion after everything he's seen and done. On the other hand, Bix is realizing the greater significance of the struggle. What they both need at this point is to step beyond their individual stories and fights and to fully recommit to the paths they've chosen. This could have been a powerful conversation for them to have - Bix realizing that they've been clinging too tightly to each other as a refuge from the demands of revolution, that their rebellions have become too dependent on each other just to keep functioning, and that they need to fight for something beyond their love for each other. And Bix' actual departure could have been more purposeful; working on another rebel base, perhaps, or building up a resistance movement somewhere. It could even have been foreshadowed earlier on; maybe Vel mentions to her that there's unrest on Ferrix, or that one of the Alliance's sector headquarters is lacking good mechanics.

Anyways, TL;DR I don't think the decision for Bix to leave was necessarily bad, but it along with her character arc this season is full of unexplored potential and could have highlighted her agency much more.

[ginsdelusions]

hiii! can you do a comfy anaxa fic? anything works rlly

Hi there, thank you so much for your request! I was thinking of watching movies, but didn’t know if they have movies in Amphoreus… so reader (I assume it’s an x reader) is a memokeeper and they are rewatching a theatrical performance on their couch by making the memories come to life again (since Amphoreus’ path is the Remembrance). I’m sorry for it being so short, but I hope you like the concept <3

“Is the popcorn finishing up soon? Otherwise everything is set up”, your voice rang through the apartment. “It will be done in a minute”, the scholar replied, peeking out from the kitchen, wrapped up in his comfortable Droma onesie. “Do we have sufficient blankets?”, he asked, taking out bowls to store the snacks in. “Yes. So, we wanted to watch Electra, right?”, your question was confirmed by a hum as Anaxagoras sat beside you, placing the popcorn bowls amongst the sea of blankets and pillows. “You wanted to watch Electra with me”

Searching the memory fragments you’d gathered during your time watching theatrical plays, you finally found the one containing the performance. In the meantime, Anaxa had already placed himself on the couch, thrown on blankets and fluffed up pillows. “Found it”, you smiled triumphantly as you opened the memory shard. It looked like a holographic screen as you started the ‘movie’. Once everything was in place, you leaned back as well, popcorn on your side, as you laid your head on Anaxa’s chest and adjusted the surrounding pillows and blankets to your liking.

Sharing a gaze, you decided to start the ‘movie’, your arms wrapping around the man next to you as the drama’s exposition began. You felt content, your favourite things all combined — your grumpy scholar, movies and this comfortable warmth among you two. The fluffiness of your surroundings and the warmth radiating off Anaxa was enough to make you happy. The romantic atmosphere was, however, short-lived, as Anaxagoras, the ever-so-confident scholar, commenced his commentary.

“But never will I cease from dirge and sore lament, while I look on the trembling rays of the bright stars, or on this light of day; but like the nightingale, slayer of her offspring, I will wail without ceasing, and cry aloud to all, here, at the doors of my father”, Electra lamented her father.

“She mourns her father, yet he was the one to sacrifice his daughter - her sister - to a goddess to wage war…”, he grumbled, chewing on some popcorn as he blankly stared ahead. “Mhm, well, she loved him very much, so I understand why she’d feel that way.” “Hmph.”

Anaxa sighed, choosing to be silent instead, and held you close, a hand moving to move a strand out of your face. Your eyes started to feel heavy soon, as you relaxed to his even, silent breaths; the steady beat of his heart functioning as a lullaby.

Anaxa huffed, the corners of his mouth raising. He was more than just content. He’d watch these nonsensical dramas for you. He’d do anything if you asked him to. But he knew that he didn’t need to make a multitude of sacrifices for you - because you were just happy with him. And the renowned scholar was happy too. A happy you, dromas onesies and blankets and a comfortable evening like this was truly all he needed.

[max1461]

One thing that was hard for me to get used to when I started learning math was what I call "static thinking". Math doesn't have any time evolution; everything either is or it isn't.

When non-mathematicians think about operations like addition, they think of them as "processes" that "occur": you take 2 and 8 and "combine them" to get 10. The expression "2+8" is like a sort of command, telling you to perform this process of addition. People think of math this way because it's basically how math is presented in schools.

To a mathematician, the expression "2+8" is not a command and it does not signify a process. "2+8" is merely another way of writing "10". They are two expressions with identical meaning. That's what "2+8=10" means, it means "these two expressions signify the same thing". There is no "process of addition" which "happens" and "results in 10". "10" and "2+8" are just alternate spellings of the same number.

For a more advanced example, consider the formal definition of a finite state machine. Intuitively, we think of a finite state machine as a network with various nodes and directed edges and so on, into which we input some string in the machine's alphabet. After inputting the string, it travels around the machine according to the transition functions before finally arriving (or not) at a final node, and by this process a computation is performed. Of course, mathematically, this is nonsense. A finite state machine is a network with various nodes and directed edges and so on, but the notion that you can "input a string" and it will "travel around the network via the transition functions" is bullshit. A string is recognized by the machine if and only if there exists a valid path for that string via the transition functions from an initial node to a final node. The string never actually travels the path, because such a notion does not exist in mathematics.

A finite state machine is not a machine, it never actually does anything. It sits there in the realm of abstractions, unmoving and static. Every string which it "recognizes" it recognizes by dint not of things that it does but of facts that simply are; every string recognized by the machine is so and has been so since the dawn of time, without the machine ever in fact going about the process of recognizing it.

This is philosophically a little bit trippy, but it can also confuse early math students in practice, too. As I mentioned at the top, I was very confused by it. For instance, in the finite state machine example, a perfectly ordinary statement to encounter in a proof might run something like

[Block of reasoning establishing that some string w is recognized by the machine M] [Block of reasoning establishing that all transition functions into a final node F of M have label x] ...since w is recognized by the machine M, there must exist a transition function T whose target is a final node and which sends w to that final node on the last character of w. Thus, since T must have label x, the final character of w is x.

To a mathematician this seems perfectly trivial. To me as a young math student, this kind thing seemed almost miraculous. We don't even know what w is, and yet we can run it through the machine? And from the fact that the machine recognized it, we can conclude things about what w is? We can tell its final character? How is that possible? I felt like this kind of thing involved "reaching into the future", reasoning about processes from the end when we haven't even begun them yet.

But, of course, we can do this, because there is no past or future in mathematics. The machine is simple there, the string is simply recognized or not, its last character simply is x or it isn't x. Nothing has to "happen".

[lilac-5ky]

Holed Up (Husband!Toji x Fem!Reader)

mini kinktober tribute: stuck in a wall/hole

plot: you should've known that asking Toji to help you out of a hole would lead him inside another—or that time you got stuck in the dog house and he bailed on you for KFC.

tags: MDNI, stuck in a wall/hole, pet play (kinda), breeding, doggy style, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, pet names (bitch, baby), established relationship, crack plot, unsolicited kfc orders, i promise toji loves reader, he's just joking guys.

wc: 2.2k

Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“Whatcha doing?”

Sarcasm rolls from your husband’s tongue as he stares down at you. Back arched, knees bent, and head encased by wooden planks. Not the most flattering position to be found in, especially with how the light autumn breeze blows at your dress and parts its layers, opening a window to the pink panties of your choice.

His question feels excessive. He knows exactly what you are doing. It was only this morning that you asked him to dig poor ol’ Mister Stinky’s remains from the dog house and he claimed he’d rather buy his son a replacement. No arguing there, but should Megumi see what became of his favored stuffed animal—fuzzy entrails gutted out of the frog’s shredded belly in a path initiating from his bedroom—he’ll be having nightmares for weeks to come.

Besides, you doubt synthetic is the kind of fiber your vet prescribed for your puppy's diet.

“What you should’ve done instead.” You finally spit out, contempt over what Toji’s long fingers could’ve accomplished without him needing to stick half his body into a hole like your, admittedly, dumbass self did.

“For thirty minutes straight? Damn, seems I overestimated ya.”

Even though your view of him is limited to a pair of overworn black slippers, you can vividly picture his scarred lips pulling over his teeth in another of his complacent smirks that scream I told you so.

“Don’t have anything better to do than time me?”

“Nah,” Toji drawls. “Grew tired of waiting on ya, so I thought I’d come see how it’s going.”

“It’s going great!” You lie through your teeth. Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes could see how non-great this is going. “Anything else you need?”

“Well it is noon.” He points out.

“And?”

“And my darling wife’s out ‘ere, rolling in the mud when she should be having lunch with me.”

A snort flares in your nostrils. He is unbelievable.

“What a cute way of letting me know you’re hungry, Toji. You know, if you’d actually helped, I would’ve had the time to set the table and give Mister Stinky a proper burial, but I can’t do both at the same time, can I?”

“Mhm, so how ‘bout we help each other?” He suggests, undeterred. “I get your ass out, and you cook us somethin’ tasty real quick.”

“Wh-who said I was stuck? I can get out whenever I want.”

“Really, huh? What keeps ya from getting out this instant, then?”

“I don’t want to.” You answer wryly. “I like it here. It’s quiet, and I could use some time for myself.”

“In the dog house.” His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. He’s not buying an ounce of what you’re selling. “C’mon, don’t be stubborn. You’ll end up reeking of dung if ya stay here a minute longer. Lemme give ya a hand.”

You know that accepting his help comes at the exorbitant price of utter humiliation, but he’s got a point. Last night’s downpour emanates strongly from the saturated wood, a dizzying smell that turns overwhelming when combined with the strong odor of what you sincerely hope is not piss. Your knees are on the verge of collapsing, and there’s more dirt in your nails than if you dug a grave barehanded. Right now, a day in the bathtub seems like a panacea for your every issue.

Almost.

Kissing your teeth, you resign with a long-drawn sigh that’s barely audible over the rumble in your stomach. You shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.

A moment passes before you hear the crunch of leaves as they rustle beneath his feet; see a second pair of knees take place between your own. Then it’s two hands gripping at your hips, and eventually, a face—your husband’s handsome face that beams with a smug smile and eyes of mischief.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart.” He greets, though you doubt he sees your face with all the hair that’s curtaining over your eyes while you hang upside down.

“What are you doing, Toji?” You recycle his question in an aggravated tone that fizzles out the second you feel his thumb press against your panties and tug the fabric to the side.

“Nothin’. Just curbing my hunger.” His finger teasingly glides across your nether lips and lands at your clit, while a palm large enough to envelope both your ass and cunt kneads at the tender flesh he’s offered. “Fridge’s empty, so.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“‘m not laughing, but c’mon. You hafta admit it’s pretty damn funny.” Warm air wafts from Toji’s mouth as he inches closer to your thighs. “Y’always whine when I fuck you from behind, but now? Look at you. Bent on all four like a real bitch.”

“T-Toji!”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he slides two fingers in your hole, languidly scissoring them in and out until there’s enough slick to lather your clit with. He circles around the nub while his fingers prod deeper inside, the icy touch of his wedding band clashing with the heat that sparks through your body when he bottoms out. A smothered moan gains echo as it bounces off the walls and into his ears.

“Such a well-trained pup,” Toji praises, retrieving his palm to lick his fingers. “Might win yourself a collar at this rate.”

You bite back your tongue before it can react to his backhanded comment, reminding yourself that you’re still outside, right where your neighbors can peek over the white picket fence for a quick hello and catch you slutting yourself out on your husband’s fingers.

“Can’t we continue this inside? Mrs. Honda is right next door, and M-Megumi—” You stutter when his palm returns to your body, its twin joining in spreading your cheeks further apart.

“Kid’s at school for another hour,” Toji mumbles, his hot tongue parting your folds with a long stroke that has your knees buckling. “So fuckin’ good,” he groans, his nose buried between your two holes while he lazily laps at your juices. “That sweet cunt is the reason why I married ya.”

You keen to his touch, hips bucking into his mouth, and walls clenching for more. “Only reason?”

“Nah. Consider that tight little ass as the second.”

His fingers burrow into the supple skin to squeeze at it, only lifting to deliver playful smacks that cause your ass to jiggle against his face. He growls into your pussy, mouthing all sorts of filth that gets drowned by your moans. It feels so good when he eats you out—it always does—but the probability of being caught in such a compromising position adds to the excitement.

The hand that’s trapped with you inside your pet’s house scratches at the wood, while the other rakes at the soil for grounding. Your orgasm creeps up on you, turning your vision blurry and tinting the darkness of space with colored specks. You are so close; all he needs to do is keep swirling at your clit, swallowing the entire bundle of nerves in his mouth, and sucking hard until—

“Ah, right.” He stops, words slurring from the threads of saliva that link his mouth with your cunt. “You said ya wanted time with yourself.”

Anger washes over you in place of the orgasm you were robbed of, the pleasurable fireworks traded for the obnoxious red alarm that goes off in your brain. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right fucking now, the only lunch you’ll be seeing is KFC buckets for the rest of your life!”

A low chuckle falls flat from his lips. “Three. I love that snappy mouth ‘f yours.”

In an attempt to meet his eyes, you duck between your legs. Your hair mops the floor as you watch him pull down his pants and boxers, the last thing you see before blood shoots up in your head being the hard cock that dangles out of reach. The heat in your stomach stirs at the sight, anticipation building rapidly when you feel him run the reddened tip between your puffy folds.

“Sure you don’t want it here?” Toji taps his cock against your ass hole and your entire body jolts in response, a loud Toji amusing rather than deterring him. “A’right, a’right! Gotcha the first time.”

His profound dream of burying himself nine inches deep into your ass crumbles as he aligns his cock with the entrance of your pussy. You brace yourself, patiently awaiting that initial sting that never goes away; no matter how many times he fucks you or how diligently he preps you, the thickness of his girth always threatens to split you in half.

But now he’s stalling, a complacent smile sitting on his lips while he contemplates your silence. “Bet you’re red as a beet in there, aren’t ya?”

He plunges himself inside before you are given the chance to either prove or disprove him, a silent scream punched from your throat as his cock rams straight into your g-spot. He huffs a deep breath, barely keeping a groan bottled, when he feels your walls tighten around him. It’s suffocating. Wet, and tight—a little similar to what being stuck in that small space feels like for you, but infinitely more pleasurable for him.

"Mm, such a sloppy little cunt. Got yourself stuck in there for this, didn't ya?"

His fingers latch onto your hips, bruising you as his nails dig meanly into your skin. He drags his cock halfway out of your cunt only to snap his hips back in, picking up a pace that ramps up over time. His quick thrusts fuck you further into that hole, your tits bouncing and slapping against the hard wooden planks while your dress rides higher to expose your back.

Toji bends your body into an arch, a heavy palm situated on your stomach until you’re able to hold the position on your own.

“Like it when your husband fucks ya like a bitch?” He grunts, catching the hand that’s squirming on the grass beside him and twisting it behind your back. “Pounded in broad daylight f'everyone to see how dumb you get over my dick, huh?"

Your whimpers don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs at the high pitch your voice has assumed, babbling his name an incomprehensible amount of times that exceeds the frequency with which his swollen cock head kisses your pulsing core. You can't think enough to reply, and you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop.

He smacks your ass loud enough for you to whine, alerting every last neighbor in the block to what is happening in their quaint suburban neighborhood. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Toji—fuck, love how big it feels.” Your thoughts stem from your pussy without being filtered by your brain. All your body knows is how badly it needs to be pushed over the edge, disregarding the scornful looks you’ll definitely be receiving at the next neighborhood watch assembly.

“That’s not what I asked.” Toji smacks your ass again, softer this time—or so it feels because of your numbing skin. “I asked, Who owns this pussy, mm?”

“That’s not what you asked at all!” Your talking back earns you a third spank. You realize you’ve got no agency of your own.

“Won’t ask again. Who. Owns. This. Pussy?” He punctuates each word with a thrust sharper than the one before, his cock twitching when he hears you screaming your answer at the top of your lungs.

“You do, T-Toji. My pussy is yours—ngh!”

“And who’s bitch are you, baby?”

“Your bitch!” You answer willingly, your mind clouded, and your logic dulled. “Fuck, Toji, you know I’m all yours.”

“Damn right, y’are.” He hums in response, hunching over your body to rub tight circles around your clit, jerking the nub up and down, round and round.

You’re almost there, and when he asks you whether you wanna be bred like one, the tension in your gut finally snaps, eyes involuntary crossing as white waves of pleasure overtake you.

He fucks you through your high at an animalistic pace, the thought of filling your belly with a baby that’s half his and half yours flooding his brain before your answer registers, his cum spilling deep within your pussy with a few sloppy pumps that squelch to the sound of your mixed fluids.

His moans mingle with yours, the rough sound of his voice raising goosebumps from where he kisses your back to the resounding ringing in your ears. He wraps his arms around you almost tenderly, peppering your back with kisses that almost convince you he’ll finally pull you out of that miserable hell hole but that’s not his intention. It never was.

A final smack meets with your ass right before he rolls his pants back up and walks toward the house, undisturbed by the screams that follow close on his trail.

“You said you’d get me out of here!” Your fist hits the ground, finges clenching around a tuft of grass blades that you violently root out.

“And you said you can get out whenever ya want. That you needed time for yourself, ‘member?”

“I didn’t mean that!” You object, your tone too squeaky to be taken seriously. “Toji, you’d better help me or else—”

“Or else what? KFC until I die?” He snorts. “Relax, I’ll come back before Megumi gets ‘ere.” You hear his phone buzzing as he—presumably—punches something in his search bar. Hot wings don’t sound too bad; he whispers for himself to hear, speaking up only when he asks you if you want him to order you a twister wrap or something before he closes his order.

a/n: the episode excited me too much, apologies. i was gonna post this later asdfghjkl but toji is back and we cum.

[whimsy-sim-sanctuary]

The Sims 4: Businesses & Hobbies Legacy Challenge

Written by Whimsy-Sim-Sanctuary.

Tag me to show your legacy by using #whimsylegacychallenge

"A family empire, built one business at a time."

______________________________________________________________

Generation 1: Legacy (Tattoo Parlor – A New Beginning)

"You grew up in a tattoo shop, but now it’s time to make your own mark."

You spent your childhood in the buzzing atmosphere of Nordhaven’s well-known family-run tattoo studio, watching your parents and relatives bring their clients’ visions to life. But you don’t want to just follow in their footsteps—you want to start your own studio, your own way.

Business: Tattoo Parlor (A brand-new shop, separate from the family’s!)

Skill: Tattooing

Goals:

Start your own tattoo studio from scratch in Nordhaven.

Master the Tattooing skill.

Achieve a 5-star business rating.

Have at least one artistic child who will be inspired by your work

Generation 2: Clay (Pottery Studio)

"Molding dreams into reality."

Your parents’ world was ink and rebellion, but you longed for something quieter. You found peace in pottery and built a business where others could create, unwind, and express themselves through clay.

Business: Pottery Studio

Skill: Pottery

Goals:

Master the Pottery skill.

Offer Pottery Classes.

Raise a child who loves baking and dreams of making people smile with sweets.

Generation 3: Sweet (Candy Shop)

"Happiness comes in all flavors."

Growing up in a pottery studio, you were surrounded by earth tones and clay dust. But you dreamed of bright colors, sugar, and the joy of a perfect pastry. Now, you run a charming candy shop, baking treats that bring happiness to all.

Business: Candy Shop

Skills: Baking & Cooking

Goals:

Master the Baking and Cooking skills.

Sell handmade chocolates, pastries, and confections.

Have a child who prefers animals over people.

Generation 4: Paws (Dog or Cat Café – Co-run with Parent)

"A place for good food and furry friends."

Your childhood smelled like freshly baked cookies, but you always felt more at home with animals than people. Inspired by your parent’s café skills, you start a Dog or Cat Café, combining your love for food and furry friends.

Business: Dog or Cat Café (Co-run with Gen 3 parent if still alive!)

Skill: Pet Training

Goals:

Master the Dog Training skill.

Offer pet-friendly entry at your café.

Have one sibling who grows up working at the café and later finds a different path.

(Requires Cats & Dogs expansion pack.)

Generation 5: Zen (Cozy Nail Salon & Wellness Center – Sibling Venture)

"Balancing beauty, relaxation, and business."

You and your sibling grew up running the café together, but you always believed in self-care and wellness. You open a nail salon with yoga and massages, offering Sims a peaceful retreat next door to the café.

Business: Nail Salon & Wellness Center

Skill: Wellness

Goals:

Master the Wellness skill.

Offer nail care, massages, and yoga.

Be a sibling of Gen 4.

(Requires Spa Day game pack.)

Generation 6: Spin (Laundromat)

"Rolling through life with style."

Your family built businesses centered around creativity and relaxation, but you wanted something practical. You love fixing things and keeping busy, so you open a Laundromat, a place where everyone in the neighborhood comes together.

Business: Laundromat

Skill: Handiness

Goals:

Maintain cleanliness and functionality of machines.

Offer a small coffee bar or reading corner.

Have a child who spends their childhood gaming on a tablet while helping out.

(Requires Laundry Day stuff pack.)

Generation 7: Pixels (Esports Café – Inspired by Their Childhood at the Laundromat & Cafés)

"Gaming isn't just a hobby—it's a way of life."

You grew up in the laundromat, passing time on a tablet playing games while waiting for customers. But you also spent weekends at your grandparents’ cafés, soaking in the vibrant energy. Now, you combine both worlds, opening an Esports Café where gaming meets community.

Business: Esports Café

Skill: Video Gaming

Goals:

Master the Video Gaming skill.

Start working as a teen, later on helping in the laundromat.

'Host' gaming tournaments and events.

Have a child who is deeply inspired by art and self-expression.

Generation 8: Muse (Artist Loft – Inspired by Gen 1 & 2 Ancestors)

"Art is what makes life colorful."

You grew up surrounded by screens and competition, but you were drawn to the hands-on creativity of your ancestors. Inspired by Gen 1’s tattoos and Gen 2’s pottery, you open an Artist Loft, where painters, musicians, and performers thrive.

Business: Artist Loft (Gallery & Performance Space)

Skills: Painting & Violin (or another instrument)

Goals:

Master either Painting or an Instrument.

'Host' Live Performances and Art Exhibits.

Have a child who loves nature and finds peace outdoors.

Generation 9: Bloom (Florist Shop)

"A flower does not think of competing with the flower next to it. It just blooms."

Growing up in a chaotic artist loft, you longed for simplicity and nature. You open a Florist Shop, creating stunning arrangements for weddings, funerals, and everything in between.

Business: Florist Shop

Skill: Flower Arranging

Goals:

Master the Flower Arranging skill.

Grow your own flowers for the shop.

Have a child who is driven, energetic, and wants to do something completely different.

(Requires Seasons or Cottage Living expansion pack.)

Generation 10: Strength (Gym – Breaking Away from the Family Empire)

"Sometimes, the best way to honor a legacy is to forge your own path."

Your family built a creative empire, but you never fit in. You were drawn to fitness, discipline, and pushing your limits. Instead of following in their footsteps, you open a Gym, proving that strength comes in many forms.

Business: Gym

Skill: Fitness

Goals:

Master the Fitness skill.

Own a fully-equipped gym and mentor sims.

Achieve a 5-star business rating.

Have no interest in the family’s creative businesses.

[yan-randomfandom]

Bruticus x Mech!Reader

synopsis: you, a lone neutral in the middle of war, suddenly find an unconscious combiner on your doorstep. a/n: guess who my fav combiner is (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠) also mistakes are everywhere 'round here,, that's a warning

— 🪫

Being a neutral in Cybertronian war, even if it may seem mundane, is not something to be taken lightly—knowing that you have no guaranteed protection, every mech for themselves, and energon nowhere near a silver platter.

At least, that's how it is for you. Not only are you a neutral, but you also travel alone, avoiding companionship from even fellow neutrals.

— Your cycle had been going smoothly. Supplies traded, objectives met, everything functioning with ease.

That is, until you returned to homebase, and out of nowhere—a gigantic, collapsed combiner sprawled in front of the entrance. Lamely blocking your path. Face-first on the ground too.

Narrowing your optics at the strange sight, your guard rises higher and higher. You listen to the low purrs of their engines, faint enough to be dormant. There is nothing else in your surroundings to be heard but the distant hum of the fallen Iacon. Then it should be safe, you suppose? No other hidden sparks?

You can't see their symbol—but slag, Primus knows you don't give a flying klik on which fraction they came from. Autobot, Decepticon, all the same to you at this point. This isn't a neutral either; there are deep scratches and burns on their frame, the telltale signs of war.

Which is why you completely avoided the sleeping combiner, fast-walking around its frame until you reached your front door.

They will have someone coming for them soon enough. A combiner isn't something to lose so easily.

You look around your base for good measure, deeming it satisfactory in the disguise department. It blends with the structures around it—half-destroyed thanks to the combiner. Whatever. Good enough. No one should suspect a thing. Sure, you do have other bases, but it would be so annoying if they spot you—maybe it'd even the end of your spark.

...

There's a low rumble. Quickly, you turn around, powering up your weapon—

You tense at the combiner's large, red optics. His head now turned, a relentless gaze boring into you.

For a few kliks, he only stares unblinkingly, almost making you believe he’s malfunctioning.

"Don't... hurt Bruticus," he says suddenly, a raspy voice deep and slow, like it's taking everything in him to speak.

Gritting your denta, you shut the entrance close on him. Well, then, you have to start packing this base up. Not safe anymore.

Either way, they should be gone tomorrow.

— 💤

Bruticus is, in fact, not gone.

A cycle has already passed. You opened the door with all hope that he's been retrieved—but no. He's still lying there, head in the same position as when he startled you, optics presently offline. Must still be in recharge.

You bite back an irritated scream; this is nothing but a sign of trouble. Bruticus is clearly in pain, though, so something must be severely damaged to the mechs that make him up themselves. Maybe—you don't really know much about combiners.

Still, you can't afford scrap about whatever happened to them. You step around the frame again and go forward on your cycle—to gather some moving crates.

It’s a quick trip, but maybe he'll be gone once you come back.

— 📦

He's still here.

Stepping around him again, at this point, there's no point in bothering anymore. While your sensors show no one else nearby, that could change in an instant. You have to abandon this base, the sense of urgency skyrocketing in your processor.

Except you slowly take a moment to look back.

His optics are online. You jolt from surprise, your crates fumbling in your arms, suddenly feeling very exposed under his stare.

"You—"

"...Where is Bruticus?"

You pause. The question catches you off-guard. "What?"

"Bruticus can't... move," he says, followed by a long groan escaping his engine.

"I'm sure someone will come find you," you murmur, ignoring the guilt bubbling in your spark.

"I am abandoned," he grunts. "Exiled."

...

... Frag.

You drop everything and walk inside your base.

Then, you come back out, medical supplies in your servos.

— 🪫

(cut-off) bonus:

You were saving these for yourself but nevermind then. Looking up, he's still staring at you with those big old eyes. Slag it.

Slowly, you begin to take steps forward.

The conbiner vents a heavy sigh. "Go away. Bruticus don't want you here—!"

"Relax, big bot," you say calmly, holding up one free servo. "I'm here to help. I won't hurt you. This is a medkit, see?"

— it's short because i KNOW the mistakes and i dont want to expand on it rip

— L moment of me its so skill issue im sorry bruticus i love you

[pathetic-gamer]

Can you say more on The Burning Wheel? The information on the site doesn’t distinguish it much from other TTRPGs that I can tell, aside from being a D6 system. What makes it unique and worth playing? (You don’t have to provide a huge rundown haha I’m just curious!)

Sure! I tried to keep this short and failed miserably, but I'd be happy to expound even more upon specific things later, if people want more :)

(Please note that, as with any ttrpg, it would be hard to claim any of the things mentioned here are wholly original to The Burning Wheel. It would be even harder to claim that no other systems have used these mechanics or philosophies in the 20 years since The Burning Wheel came out. I am not going to claim either of those things - its the combination of them and the play experience they have resulted in for me that make it unique, so that's the angle from which I'm writing this post.)

So. why is it worth playing? How is it different?

I could talk about the skill learning system, the war rules codex, the whole concept of versus tests vs bloody versus tests. But to me, there are two main ways that it stands out from other systems: its treatment of role-play as a mechanism, and the overall philosophy behind the game's design, including the concept of setting clear expectations.

(using section headers to break up the text lol)

How it uses role-play:

The most obvious thing to point out is that there's a whole set of encounter mechanics for social situations or debates (Circles checks, Duel of Wits, etc.) - sort of the epitome of crunchy role play. But thats not what I'm getting at! What I'm getting is the fact that good role play is integral to the way the game functions.

Let's go back, all the way to character creation: When you're burning a character, you selecting life paths (page to squire to knight, etc.) with their associated skills and traits, then tie them in a pretty bow with beliefs and instincts to guide the character's actions. All of these things feed into each other to make a complete character. Easy! Familiar! We all know how to make a character, even if the numbers and labels are different!

What really matters to this engine once you're playing is whether the character you're acting as matches what you built. If it doesn't, the rules nudge you to redefine your character until it does through systems of rewards, penalties, and consequences. You are rewarded for sticking to and acting on your traits, beliefs, and instincts through different types of points distributed and voted on by fellow players, which can be used to alter the course of events or turn the tide of a bad situation later on. If you're not living up to a trait, on the other hand, you can lose it and all its benefits. (Took the fortitude trait, but ran from trouble one too many times? tough luck! the other players voted to take away that trait and now you can't call on it in moments of peril.) The beliefs and traits of a single character can end up at odds with each other, resulting in characters having to make choices that in other systems might seem insignificant or carry few lasting consequences, but here may alter the function of your character.

It's not all punitive measures, btw! One of my characters caused problems for everyone else by refusing to put away a weapon when someone else was in danger, playing off of an instinct that states he draws his weapon whenever his master does. After the session, another player suggested everyone consider nominating the Brave trait for him the next time we update them. As a character-type trait, it has no effect when rolling dice but does mean that henceforth and forevermore, anyone who interacts with him will notice a sense of bravery. Delightful!!

Also, the beliefs of different characters are practically guaranteed to stray from one another at some point, which is the primary source of inter-PC conflict. Because the mechanics of the game encourage and reward sticking to your beliefs or following your stated instincts even when it makes things significantly harder or causes problems, you're much more inclined to do it. As someone who is terrible at not slipping back into the same kind of character over and over again, I think this fucking rules.

I'm playing with a group of people I've been gaming with for almost five years, and this has opened the way for much richer dynamics between our characters than any of the other systems we've played, in part because as players we're less interested in acting on concensus to drive the plot forward. Working as one unit simply isn't the goal, and if it was, we would play a different system that encourages and rewards that.

the game's philosophy, aka setting intentions and also reading rules:

Now we're starting to get at the philosophy behind the game's design: It believes you have to know why you're playing burning wheel instead of literally any other game. This isn't a system you play on accident. It's admittedly a complicated game with a LOT of rules. It asks for a huge amount of engagement from all of the players, not just the GM - something like inter-PC conflict can only work well if everyone is on the same page (figuratively, but also literally lol) and ready to help adjudicate rules, ask for tests, discuss intentions, etc. Dream scenario for a chronic rules lawyer lol.

Obviously any game will be more fun if everyone has actually learned the rules before they start playing, but this is one where it's extremely difficult (if not impossible) to play if most players haven't learned them, and deeply rewarding if they have. It really operates on the expectation that everyone is putting in work, and everyone has respect for the time and effort the others are bringing to the table.

It's hard to put a finger on how this all impacts play other than the obvious elegence of People Knowing What Theyre Doing, but on a purely emotional and meta level, knowing that everyone is investing so much time and effort to play a game with you is just.. idk, it feels special and makes the time itself feel even more valuable. In that sense, the satisfaction of playing the game isn't coming from the game itself, but is still shaped by it.

(In my mind, this is the #1 reason to try the game, but as @thydungeongal alluded to yesterday, finding people willing and able to do it is also the #1 hurdle to, like, actually having a good time. it would be completely miserable otherwise.)

Also, for a game that does not boast a collaborative nature the way some others do, it is honestly pretty fuckin collaborative lol. I don't know that this was Luke Crane's intention in designing the game, but closing out sessions by going through and grading everyone's work and giving each other glorified gold stars, you will inevitably end up discussing and dissecting things, learning from people's character work, and seeing where and how you can improve individually and as a group. It creates a table culture that values honest expressions of discomfort or dissatisfaction, and also of appreciation and celebration. It's after-care. It leads naturally into setting intentions and expectations for the next session. It just feels really nice!!!

That's obviously a table culture that can be cultivated anyway, and it's a practice my group has learned to be very intentional about facilitating, but it's just interesting how The Burning Wheel of all systems manages to support that. I think that's what the website means when it says playing this changes how you play other rpgs lol

So yeah, idk how much more to say and also I'm sooooooo so eepy and was like an hour late for work, so its a weird brain day. but there you go lol

[multidimensionalguidance]

Anuradha - The Bridge To All Paths Pt.1

Services

The symbolism of Anuradha is the deer, an archway, a lotus, and a staff stick. I'll be doing a series of observations for this nakshatra that lays within 3'20 degrees to 16'40 in Scorpio. It is ruled by Saturn and its traditional ruler Mars crating a combination of a disciplined, focused, yet gentle mastermind.

There are parts of the lotus flower that reaches down to the ground in the mud water, where it gets all its nutrients from, and it functions as a sort of plumbing system working made by nature. Anuradha native learns very early on how to alchemize and thrive in difficult environments. The other symbolism of this nakshatra is the staff, which is a mystical weapon that wields in magic powers to destroy the obstacle in front of it. There are many super hero or super villan themes within this nakshatra as well, so the magical themes are heavily present.

Anuradha is also associated to a very famous bird who didn't gain notoriety just for its sounds and songs, but its meanings. In Old English, “nightingale” translates to “night singer. It has appeared in many thousands of poems from Homer to the twentieth century, and even in ancient times it acquired an almost formulaic meaning as the bird of spring, of night, and of mourning.

Nightingales are also often associated with the concept of love, particularly romantic love. This connection can be traced back to the behavior of male nightingales during mating season. When attempting to court a female, a male nightingale will sing intricate songs throughout the night, making their presence known and winning the heart of their desired mate.

Kristin Hannah author of "The Nightingales" has her Moon in Anuradha. A critically acclaimed book for its powerful story and message of violence, love, resistance, and alliances.

We also have to recall through the story of Radha and her "impossible" love. Anuradha individuals tend to run into someone they fall deeply in love with, become devoted to them, but lose the connection and has a hard time moving on from it even after finding the "perfect" partner. This plays out the most in a man's chart, and in women they tend to be the "one that got away". Although, it could of course happen either way regardless of gender.

Anuradha natives might run pretty often into certain people and quickly develop a deep fixations with them, hence why they sometimes end up with a partner/spouse who is overprotective and a bit neurotic. This usually occurs when that powerful sense of devotion is placed upon someone else in a codependent way. They are also the ones who want to listen and resolve problems of others because they feel to a core level that the entire world is their friend.

It is normal for these natives to lose friends and connections along their way, but at the end their close circle and alliances become essential to their development. Saturn ruling this nakshatra gives it enough seriousness and discipline to understand that quality is truly more important than quantity, so having small networking groups is also common.

They seek those who lay behind the shadows and can see the bigger picture, hence why they are often the left hand of Jyestha natives who play the role of the one who obtains it all by sacrificing it all, but at some point one or the other develops an unhealthy attachment that leads to a major karmic point for both.

Their attraction is almost fated because they are yoni consorts after all. If they are able to mutually filtrate all their darkness, they can become a power couple.

It is quite common to see super heroes who rely on a group in order to fight against chaos have Anuradha placements. There is a strong desire to unite above all and bring fruits later on within this nakshatra.

In general, the lighter side of this nakshatra are beautiful, worth knowing, and exploring as well. It tells us the importance of learning to control our own shadow who wishes to use alliances for self gain, and rather use it allow others to connect the collective harmoniously.

In the next part of this nakshatra I will exploring the darker aspects. Continue to Part 2!

[silenzahra]

⚡ An electrical aura ⚡

Ah, it feels so good to be back with a new story after so long! 😌

As I mentioned here, in this fic you will find one of my favorite topics to consume in any kind of fanwork:

✨⚡ Protective Luigi ⚡✨

I would've liked to post this story a couple of days ago to coincide with Mario and Luigi's birthday (even though the story has nothing to do with the date itself) as a way of celebrating their bond as brothers that we all love and adore so much 🥹💚❤️

Still, I'm glad I can share it now as this is one of the many fanfics I've been planning to write... for more than a year 😶

And at long last, here it is! 😄

@pepperycar @bberetd @vulpixfairy1985 @megamagimugi @peaches2217 @zocchini37 @itsavee4117 @multicolour-ink @dragon-fly34 @eleventhhourfactor @stripetkattelalala54-gf @kelbreyworshipper @doodleydoo101 @c-lavanda and anyone else who might be interested: hope you enjoy! 💖

And as always: you can keep reading under the cut if you'd like! 👇

(Please remember that likes, comments, kudos, reblogs and any kind of feedback is always more than welcome 🥰)

EDIT (29-3-2025): Should've edited this post earlier to add that I wrote a second chapter for this, this one from Mario's perspective, and it can also be found on AO3! ❤️

⚡ An electrical aura ⚡

TW: Blood, violence (not too much though)

Luigi doesn't like being separated from his brother.

It was hard enough having to leave him behind when he got sick to go in search of the antidote. Luigi swallows as he remembers how scared he was when he saw Mario's skin turn green after consuming that strange mushroom and how his feet practically flew to the Mushroom Kingdom embassy, carrying his twin in his arms, to take him to the princess and try to get him help.

This time, however, at least Luigi has the comfort and relief of knowing that his brother is safe, even if he’s not at his side.

The moment they came across that first barred door, Luigi immediately understood that his twin wouldn’t have a chance to follow him, that he’d have to go on alone and that Mario would have to find his own way. Luigi gave him a glance full of consternation and, for a very brief moment, his brother returned exactly the same look. Before, of course, forcing himself to hide it so as not to show discouragement in front of his little brother and, instead, give him a reassuring grin.

Luigi smiles to himself as a pleasant tenderness spreads across his chest and warms his heart. That's his big brother: always ready to appear strong and confident to protect his younger sibling and not to worry him, all with the purpose of preventing Luigi’s anxiety from getting any worse.

Looking around, Luigi puts his hands to his chest in some sort of reflex action, trying to keep the warmth that the thought of his brother brings up inside him. For, not to his luck, everything around him is ice and more ice. Joke’s End is an inhospitable, deserted, cold place. It certainly serves its purpose of functioning as a kind of graveyard for jokes, for while the other places in the Beanbean Kingdom that he and Mario have visited had much more cheerful names and were also full of life, this place is far from the mainland and, except for the monsters and that strange blue girl with the scepter that has greeted them, it’s also the loneliest place in the entire kingdom.

Luigi hugs himself as he continues looking at his surroundings with a parched throat and a sense of dread growing inside him. He’s never felt so alone in his entire life.

He only hopes that this ordeal is about to end. He followed the path marked by the place itself, hit the necessary blocks and battled alone against various monsters, despite the insecurity produced by not having his twin with him so that they could perform their combined attacks.

Not to mention the several occasions on which he’s been able to see Mario through a barred door without either of them finding a way to bridge the distance between them. All those times, Luigi has clung to the bars as if he could make them disappear in his fingers so he could finally be reunited with his brother, and Mario hasn’t hesitated to approach him and place his hands on his twin’s, gazing at him affectionately while he gave him words of encouragement and, again, smiles filled with confidence.

“Soon we'll be together, Lu,” he assured him, and Luigi could practically touch the certainty that permeated every word his brother spoke. “We'll soon find a way, you'll see.”

Despite his anxiety and his many insecurities, Luigi has never doubted Mario. He always believes in his promises, unquestioningly, because he knows that his twin wouldn't tell him if he didn't truly believe in them and if he wasn't willing to do everything in his power to keep them.

And he always does. Mario has never, ever failed Luigi. Not once in their entire lives.

Therefore, Luigi trusts. He trusts Mario blindly, just as he has since the day they were born, and he’ll continue to trust him until the day he dies.

So that's what keeps him going: the certitude that Mario's words will come true sooner or later. The assurance that everything his brother tells him is as true as the sun will always rise at the end of the darkest night and the light will shine again. Just as bright as Mario’s smile.

This time, whether they manage to reunite depends on a strange puzzle that, once again, they must solve by working together, even though they’re physically separated. This is not the first time, of course: when they’ve seen each other through barred doors, it’s been because they had to hit twin blocks in unison in order to activate different mechanisms, and there have even been times when they haven’t been able to see one another but have felt each other's presence through the thick walls of ice that make up Joke’s End.

As Luigi hits this last block, he hears a sound coming from outside. Both he and Mario have just crossed walkways that ran parallel to each other and converged at two different doors in the building, and they’ve helped each other to move forward until they’ve reached, at least in Luigi's case, a dead-end room. After hitting the block, Luigi retraces his steps towards the walkway he has just crossed and discovers that a frozen bridge has emerged between the two.

“Yes!”

Luigi can't and won't hold back the squeal of relief and excitement that bubbles up from his throat. Without wasting any time, he runs across the footbridge to cross to the other side and begins to follow the path that Mario must have taken. He wonders if he’ll bump into his sibling, if he too has started running, if he’s as eager as Luigi is to hold him in his arms. The smile on the younger plumber’s face widens, for he’s sure that Mario feels the same way. He’s about to join his big brother in a tight embrace, and this time, he won’t let Mario get away from him again.

Then, as he climbs up some latticed platforms, a high-pitched scream rings in his ears and is suddenly cut off.

Due to the surprise, Luigi almost stops in his tracks as he feels how the air escapes from his lungs and an icy fist grips his heart. And it has nothing to do with the cold prevailing in the place.

It only takes him a moment, however, to resume running, giving his legs more speed.

“Mario!”

He leaps over some ice blocks and manages to reach the next room. He skids across the ice when he realizes that he’s at a high location and that, to his right and left, there are two sets of steps leading down to the bottom of the room.

And down there, right in the middle, is Mario.

The blood runs cold in Luigi's veins as he discovers his brother lying on the ground, completely motionless, with traces of dirt on his clothes and a red stain crowning his forehead, his hat fallen just short of his head. With a horrified gasp, Luigi doesn't give it a second thought: he runs to the edge of the step, bends down and jumps, landing in a crouch a short distance from where Mario lays. He moves practically on all fours towards his twin, his heart pounding in his chest and his eyes so wide that he thinks they'll end up popping out of their sockets.

“Mario,” he mumbles in a nervous whisper.

He carefully places a hand under Mario's head and slowly lifts him up as he slides his knees under his body to try to give him some comfort. He pulls him closer as he continues to whisper his name, but his brother does not respond. There’s blood on his neck and one of his knees, Luigi notices. Feeling the anguish growing inside him, he examines the crimson stain on Mario's forehead, as it seems to be the most serious wound. His white glove is immediately covered in red. Wheezing, Luigi raises his hand in front of his face and stares at it, blinking in awe, as if his brain is having trouble processing what his eyes are seeing.

Mario's blood coats Luigi’s fingers.

The distress that floods him begins to transform, little by little, into something different. Something that causes small sparks of electricity to sizzle around him.

It is then that he becomes aware of their presence.

Luigi blinks a little to focus his eyes, as they’re blurry, he doesn't know why, and lowers his hand without any haste. He places it protectively on Mario's chest, which, fortunately, rises and falls, evidence that he continues to breathe, albeit slowly and heavily. Luigi pulls him a little closer to himself, his hand still holding his twin's head with extreme care. His breathing is getting more and more arduous and laborious, and his cheeks are getting wet, but he’s not even aware of it.

In front of him stand three of the many monsters that plague the place. Luigi has faced several of them before, both alone and in the company of his brother, so he recognizes them immediately. A Glurp, which spews toxic clouds that have on occasion poisoned him or Mario, causing his sibling to be extremely grateful for Luigi's efforts to carry extra Refreshing Herbs in their luggage. An Ice Snifit, whose spiky chunks of ice have frozen his soul and against which only his brother's Firebrand has been effective enough to eradicate its effects.

And lastly... a Clumph.

His green skin makes Luigi think of a nurse’s uniform. His purple hair reminds him of a bunch of grapes.

And finally... that huge club that he carries everywhere.

In all likelihood, this Clumph is the main reason why his big brother is lying unconscious in his arms.

Out of pure instinct, Luigi squeezes Mario a little tighter as his brow furrows. How dare that damned Clumph hurt his twin in such a way. How dare he stand there, in front of him, carrying his club on his shoulder as if he hadn't just dealt it with all his might on Mario's forehead. How dare he give him that goofy look with which he pretends to be completely innocent.

How dare he.

“How dare you,” Luigi mumbles without even being aware of it.

The particles of electricity around Luigi have increased in intensity and power. His breathing has accelerated so much that snorts escape from his mouth, and the hair on his arms has bristled under his green shirt. The plumber hears the roar of thunder, but he can’t tell where it comes from. He does take a glimpse of a glow that illuminates the place green, though. Without taking his eyes off the Clumph, Luigi reaches an arm over Mario to grab his brother’s hat and places it under his twin’s head as he lays him extremely gently on the ground. Then, taking his time, he stands up. His enemies don't miss his every move either, the Ice Snifit and Glurp ready to attack.

Luigi, however, is not going to give them the slightest chance.

His veins burn so much that he feels like he's going to explode at any moment. Rage has invaded every inch of his body and is spreading through his nerve endings like a thunderstorm that threatens to burst and destroy him in the process.

Luigi is more than willing to let it out.

He can't remember ever feeling this way, either before or after acquiring his Thunderhand, but he's not going to hold back. These enemies dared to touch his brother. They dared to attack him when Luigi was finally on his way to reunite with him. They dared to inflict Mario a wound that has robbed him of consciousness. They dared to spill his blood.

It will be the last thing they will do in their lives.

Anger controls his every move when Luigi unhurriedly steps over Mario's body and walks heavily towards his rivals, as if he were nothing more than a puppet in the hands of the strongest wrath. Although they try to look determined and ready to fight, the monsters sense the aura that surrounds Luigi, the aura of someone who is willing to do anything to get revenge, the aura of someone who will stop at nothing to protect what is most precious to him in the world.

An electrical aura that brings thunder at lightning in its wake.

As he walks, Luigi clenches his fists at his sides and rebellious sparks escape from them. He feels that both his mustache and his hair under his hat have bristled, and his cheeks are now so dampened that he feels them cold, but he doesn't care. He continues to move, his breathing harsh and uneasy, his heart pounding in his chest, and he feels an unexpected surge of satisfaction sweep over him when he realizes that his enemies, cornered, have bumped into the icy wall of the building surrounding them.

They have no escape.

Luigi's fury, on the other hand, does.

Growling under his breath, the plumber closes his eyes and allows the energy pulsing in his veins to take complete control.

His arms rise up, his palms pointing towards his enemies. Electricity courses through his body, surging from deep within him and rushing to his hands. Against all odds, a sense of warm calm invades Luigi as he feels his electric magic dance up and down, flooding every inch of his body, reaching every corner of his essence and causing a fleeting smile to play across his lips.

He has never felt so powerful.

Before the first streak bursts from Luigi's fingertips, his eyelids part, but there’s no trace of pupil in his gaze.

There’s only room for electricity.

Luigi's eyes are entirely white as his power begins, at last, to be released. Jets of light, sometimes blue, sometimes green, emerge from his hands, lethal, deadly, and it takes Luigi a moment to realize that he’s begun to emit a low snarl that, gradually, turns into a scream with which he frees all the emotions that boil inside him. The fear of losing his brother. The rage for what they’ve done to him. The thirst for revenge, which had never before blinded him so much.

In fact, Luigi realizes that everything he sees is white. An immaculate white, dotted with sizzling green and blue flashes, which prevent him from checking what his magic is doing, what his hands are causing. Nor is he able to perceive any sound, as if his ears were underwater, in a completely silent limbo that has cut him off from the outside world.

However, he quickly decides that he doesn't care. He doesn't care, because he feels invincible. He’s filled with fierce drive that fuels his power and begs him to go on, to not stop, to continue giving it free rein. The euphoria of the moment is so strong that it becomes addictive, something Luigi clings to with all his might.

It's all for his brother.

Mario deserves that and more. Mario deserves the whole world.

Despite Luigi’s blindness, which, he hopes, is temporary, the image of his twin appears clearly in front of him. His beloved Mario, always so cheerful and smiling, always ready to fight for those he loves, always ready for battle. Always determined to protect Luigi and spare him all harm, but also full of unshakable faith in his little sibling.

A faith that has always been Luigi's driving force throughout his entire life.

If it were not for Mario, Luigi simply wouldn’t believe in himself. If it were not for Mario, Luigi wouldn’t have learned to fight, both for himself and for those he loves. If it were not for Mario, Luigi would not be who he is today.

If it weren't for Mario, Luigi wouldn't be here right now.

So he's not going to give up. He’ll continue to defend his brother the same way Mario has always defended him. He won't let those damn monsters get close to his sibling again. He won't let them get a chance to hurt him again.

He won't let them get away with it.

However, as he unleashes all his power and his unstoppable energy travels through his body and gushes from his hands, Luigi empties himself. He empties himself of the fear of losing Mario forever. He empties himself of all his anger, of all his resentment against the beings who have dared to harm his twin. He empties himself of all his thirst for revenge.

And he empties himself, also, of his electric magic.

Which carries with it a great part of his vitality.

Luigi blinks several times as the sparks around his vision begin to dim and the blinding white gradually fades. Before he can see anything, however, he notices his knees hit the icy ground, his legs unable to support him, and he begins to become aware of the noisy panting he’s emitting. He closes his eyes again and squeezes his eyelids tightly shut as he brings a hand to his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart and regulate his rapid breathing. His entire body trembles violently, and he continues to see sparks, only, this time, there’s no trace of those green and blue flashes in them. All he sees is blackness and darkness.

A darkness so enveloping that it threatens to drag him into the deepest and most absolute unconsciousness.

Despite his exhaustion, Luigi can’t afford to faint now. This is no time to rest. He has to check what has happened while he was in that kind of electric trance, what has become of his enemies. He has to check in on Mario.

His brother needs him.

But the darkness is so tempting... What if he only lets himself be dragged along for a moment? Just enough to rest and regain his strength. Besides, his eyes are already closed. What's the difference if—?

“Lu?”

Luigi's eyelids flutter open as he lifts his head with a jerk. He only takes a moment to gaze at the frozen wall in front of him, empty, which makes him imagine that the monsters must have fled, frightened by the fierceness of his power.

But that’s not important now.

His head turns at lightning speed as he compels his exhausted limbs to move. In the midst of his wheezing, a wide grin blooms on his face as his eyes meet another pair, of the same limpid blue, gazing up at him in awe.

“Mario!” he exclaims.

Not wanting to waste any time, he propels himself onto the icy ground to stand up, only to drop to his knees again two seconds later, this time next to Mario. His brother watches him with half-opened eyes and a tired smile glistening on his lips as well. Luigi places a hand in his sibling’s hair, careful not to touch his wound so as not to hurt him more, and his heart fills with joy as he notices how his twin reaches for his hand.

When their fingers intertwine, they join with a force more sweeping than that of a hurricane and more intense than that of the most devastating thunderstorm.

“How are you feeling?”

“Was it you?”

The brothers share a few knowing laughs when they realize that they’ve spoken at the same time. They look at each other fondly, amused, and Luigi, feeling his heart calm at last, gladly gives the floor to his twin.

“I'm a little dizzy,” Mario confesses, his voice a faint murmur. “It hurts...”

He attempts to bring his free hand to his forehead, but Luigi gently restrains him.

“Don't touch it,” he asks, concerned. “You’re wounded, but I'm sure this will help.”

He begins to rummage in his pockets without letting go of his brother's fingers. He doesn't notice that his twin can’t take his eyes off him.

“Was it you, Luigi?” he asks again.

“What do you mean?” Luigi asks, pulling the fabric of his right pocket to try to get a glimpse of its contents.

“The electric shock,” says Mario. “I woke up and saw... Lightning bolts. Electricity. Blue... Green. And... I heard thunder.”

Luigi notices that his brother struggles to speak. Stressed, he begins to rummage in the chest pocket of his overalls, ignoring the fact that he feels exhausted too. Where the heck did he put them?

“Luigi.”

His twin's voice, tinged with a certain urgency, as well as the squeeze he gives his hand, cause Luigi to finally look up. He’s speechless when he notices the fixed, penetrating glance, bursting with curiosity, that Mario is giving him. He can’t help but be slightly startled and even blush, and immediately resumes his search.

“I-I don't know what happened,” he mumbles nervously, and he’s not lying.

“Lu, did you...?” Mario takes a few seconds to ask his question. “Did you just unleash a thunderstorm?”

As his fingers finally grab the 1-UP Super he was looking for, Luigi closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath.

The truth is that he has no idea what just happened. He only knows that several emotions swirled inside him the moment he saw Mario's blood staining his glove red, and that he experienced them in a more overwhelming and powerful way than ever before. He’s never felt that fire in his chest, that tingling in his arms, that sensation of being unstoppable that has taken over his soul and has demanded to gush from his hands with more force than ever.

Luigi had no clue he was capable of such a thing.

“Lu?”

Mario's voice urges him to open his eyes again. His heart shrinks in his chest as soon as he notices the lingering worry in his brother's eyes, not yet completely lucid, but enough to be worried by his silence. Luigi tries to smile and shrugs as he holds out the mushroom.

“It's nothing,” he assures his twin. “I'm fine, but you're not. Eat this.”

“Luigi.” Mario lifts his other hand to push away the shroom. “Tell me what happened. Please. What did I see?”

Luigi will never cease to be amazed that his brother, even with a bleeding wound on his forehead, can still display his innate strength. He knows Mario too well to know that he will never give up, that he’d still want to talk to him about what happened even if he were on the verge of unconsciousness. So, defeated, Luigi offers him a deal.

“Eat this,” he repeats, “and we’ll talk about it.”

Fortunately, his suggestion seems to appease Mario. After watching him for a few seconds, his brother eventually lowers his hand and allows Luigi to give him the 1-UP Super. Luigi knows how much his sibling dislikes the taste of mushrooms, but by now Mario has learned to tolerate it: he closes his eyes and swallows them almost all at once, and always lets out a little whimper of protest that warms Luigi's heart. Mario may be his older brother, he may be the bravest and most capable person he knows, he may have always protected him since they were little, but in some ways he still reminds him of a child.

And yet Luigi admires his sibling for being able to eat something he doesn't like. He struggles every time.

Within seconds, Mario's wound begins to heal. Luigi watches, dumbfounded, as the blood recedes and the skin practically regenerates, eliciting a small grunt from Mario that causes Luigi to squeeze his hand and stroke his hair in an attempt to comfort him. His brother purses his lips as he squeezes back, and Luigi smiles as he witnesses Mario trying to contain the pain and not show himself vulnerable despite the fact that, here and now, it's just the two of them.

To Mario's relief, the shroom soon completes its magic. With his forehead completely healed, Mario opens his eyes, once again glowing with his distinctive energy and vitality, and rests them on his twin. Luigi, however, is so relieved to finally see his older brother safe and sound that, as soon as he begins to sit up, Luigi throws his arms around Mario’s neck.

He doesn't even realize that he’s started to cry until he tries to speak and the lump in his throat prevents him from doing so.

Mario's laughter is like a balm that warms his heart. His brother laughs fondly and puts an arm around Luigi while he raises his other hand to pat him affectionately on his head. Still hugging him, Luigi smiles, and a strangled chuckle escapes his system as he swallows to try to quiet his crying.

“It's good to see you too, little brother,” Mario whispers.

He presses his cheek against Luigi's and Luigi closes his eyes, his heart fluttering in his chest. There's no telling where his smile ends and Mario's begins. He could stay like this forever, clinging to his sibling and feeling his twin's arms around him, providing him with a warmth more intense and comforting than that of the most blazing fire as they protect each other from any evil coming from the outside world.

Luigi needs nothing else to live.

After a few seconds, Luigi notices that his brother tries to pull apart from him to look him in the eye, but the younger plumber finds himself unable to stand up straight. His whole body feels strangely limp, as if it didn’t belong to him, and it’s impossible for him to do something as simple as opening his eyes.

Luigi then realizes that the fatigue caused by the force with which his electric magic has emerged from his body is causing the upper part of his body to slip to Joke’s End’s cold, icy floor, as both him and Mario are still on his knees, and he finds himself unable to break his fall. Mario's voice, full of alarm at his little brother’s condition, reaches Luigi’s ears muffled, and he just can’t make out his twin’s words. He does feel how Mario holds him tightly with one arm, trying to ground him, and Luigi finds himself clinging to him with what little strength he has left in his body. He rests his head on his twin's shoulder while he closes his eyelids, just for an instant, to rest for five minutes, nothing more.

For this reason he’s unable to resist when he notices that Mario brings something to his lips. Without hesitating, Luigi opens his mouth and allows his brother to give him what the green clad plumber immediately distinguishes as a 1-UP Super. He’s barely swallowed it when he begins to feel its effects: a small spark of energy springs up in his heart and starts to spread through his body in slow but intense waves, finally giving him back the vitality that the magnitude of his power had taken from him. Soon he’s aware of how Mario's arms support him while, in Italian, his brother whispers soft words of encouragement, waiting for the shroom to take effect with the little patience that Luigi knows his sibling has, but which he always displays when it comes to him.

Luigi lets out a small moan as he regains control of his body, holding on to Mario's shoulders to slowly sit up. He immediately hears his twin greet him as if he had just woken up, which, in fact, is not far from the truth.

“Hey,” Mario says softly, his tone full of gentleness. “Can you hear me, Lu? How are you feeling?”

Luigi notices Mario's fingers cupping his cheek and can practically feel the concern that tinges his voice. Still clinging to his twin's shoulders, Luigi hastens to smile, looking at him, and nods, wishing he could wipe all traces of worry from Mario's blue eyes in one fell swoop.

“I feel wonderful,” he declares.

His tone must be more convincing than he thought, because, in front of him, Mario's face begins to calm down: his frown relaxes, his eyes recover their usual spark, and a smile blooms on his lips that mirrors Luigi's, as if his brother were an earthly representation of the sun and he, the moon that feeds on his glow.

“Thank goodness,” Mario replies, giving him a gentle pat on the back.

Both his voice and his face are brimming with relief. Luigi instinctively closes his eyes the instant he notices how his twin begins to tilt his head towards him. Warmness bursts in his chest as his forehead meets his brother's, and the smile that spreads across his face at the contact is wide, serene and placid. Despite the ice that surrounds them, despite the coldness that reigns in the place where they are, far from any trace of civilization, Luigi could almost swear that never before, in all his life, has he felt more wrapped up in the warmth provided by the mere presence of his older brother.

When, seconds later, the twins separate, they give each other wide and calm smiles, both filled with joy at being together again. Mario's expression, though, gradually turns into one full of curiosity.

“So...” he says before patting Luigi's back again. “It was a thunderstorm, right?”

Luigi can't help but cringe a little. How is he going to tell Mario about something he doesn't even know how it happened? In fact... should he? What if his brother starts to see him in a different light? What if...?

What if Mario stops loving him?

“W-well...”

He doesn't realize that he's started to fiddle with his hands, as he usually does whenever he's nervous, until he feels Mario's palm, warm and pleasant, resting on his fingers before gently squeezing them. Raising his head, Luigi meets the equally sweet and affectionate gaze of his brother, radiant with all the love he feels for him.

The sight is more than enough to soothe Luigi’s racing thoughts.

“Lulu,” Mario says, still smiling, “you don’t have to be ashamed. What you did was amazing!” he exclaims, chuckling smoothly as his eyes sparkle with excitement. “You unleashed a thunderstorm all by yourself, little brother. Do you realize how incredibly powerful you are?”

Luigi stares at him in silence for a few seconds, trying to process the reality of his twin's words.

Or, he corrects himself, trying to process the fact that Mario doesn't seem at all horrified by what his younger sibling just did.

“In fact,” Mario continues before Luigi manages to come up with a response, “you're so powerful, Luigi, that not only did you get me to wake up even though I had just been hit in my head, but you made the monsters run away. Or at least,” he adds as he looks to and fro, “I don't see them anywhere.”

Looking at Luigi again, Mario winks at him as he holds both of his brother's hands in his, Luigi's fingers resting on his left palm while his right continues to tap him lightly. Luigi blinks slowly and closes his mouth at last, for he wasn't even aware of having it wide open. A shy smile begins to bloom on his lips.

“They fled like cowards in the face of the bravery and courage of my mighty little brother,” Mario then says, imprinting his voice with a proud tone that causes Luigi's smile to widen and his cheeks to start burning. “Do you hear me, monsters?” Mario suddenly shouts, turning again to one side and the other, and grabs Luigi's wrist with his right hand to raise his younger sibling’s arm in the air. “Don't even think of coming closer if you don't want to suffer the wrath of the Green Thunder!”

Luigi can't contain the laughter that escapes from the depths of his soul at the nickname his brother has just bestowed upon him, as well as his enthusiasm when boasting about him and the vigor with which he shakes Luigi’s arm. Luigi doubts that any monster is going to be scared by that, but, maybe, just maybe, what he just did is not... bad. Maybe his power has gotten out of his control, but, after all, he hasn't caused any harm.

And, besides, he’s achieved his purpose: to keep those monsters away from his big brother and prevent them from ever having a chance to harm him again.

When his laughter starts to fade, he notices that Mario was laughing too. Now he looks at Luigi with eyes sparkling with affection, and the younger plumber returns a radiant smile that he hopes will convey the same feeling to his brother. Seizing the fact that he’s still holding him by one hand, Mario begins to pull him up and they both stand up at the same time. Mario, however, doesn’t let go.

“Thank you for protecting me, Lu,” he says heartily, giving his fingers a little squeeze.

Luigi can't help blushing and massages the back of his neck with his other hand.

“You always protect me,” he replies, shrugging, “and besides, I don't even know what I did...”

“What do you mean?” Mario sounds both intrigued and confused.

“W-well...” Luigi takes a few seconds to try to find the right words. “I don't know what happened, Mario,” he declares, looking him in the eyes. “I just know that I saw you lying there, and you were bleeding, and...” He sighs, looking away again. “My Thunderhand took control. I didn't even know it was capable of creating a thunderstorm,” he admits, dejected.

Luigi drops his shoulders and massages his arm with his free hand. Mario still holds his other hand, but Luigi senses that it's only a matter of time before his brother lets go and walks away. Surely he doesn't admire him so much anymore. Surely he doesn't see him in the same way anymore. Surely...

“Then,” Mario's voice interrupts the torrent of his thoughts, and a new squeeze on his fingers causes Luigi to turn to him once more. Mario's warm smile disarms him completely. “Maybe we can find a way together that you can do this while maintaining control.”

At first, Luigi isn't sure he fully understands what his twin is referring to. It takes a while for his brain to register what his twin means: that Luigi should learn how to be in control in case he needs, or wants to, create another thunderstorm in the future.

It hadn't occurred to him that there might be a way.

“You’ll see how they will call you Green Thunder then,” Mario adds, amused, and gives him a gentle punch on the shoulder.

Luigi chuckles at his joke, and an idea suddenly comes to his mind.

“Do you think you could do something like that with your Firebrand too?” he asks, curious.

This time it's Mario who stares at him dumbfounded.

“Well... I hadn’t thought about it,” he admits, putting his hand to his chin and tapping his finger pensively.

“Then that’s one more thing we have to research,” Luigi suggests, suddenly filled with a determination that only Mario could have infected him with. “What do you think, big bro?”

“Fair enough, little bro” nods his sibling, giving him another wink.

With no need for words, the two break contact in unison, only to raise their arms and high five. Luigi laughs, feeling not only relieved that Mario still loves him the same way, but pleased that they’re going to further investigate both his electrical power and his twin's igneous magic. He hopes to come up with an appropriate nickname for Mario and his Firebrand in the process.

“I guess we'll have to get out of here first,” Mario adds jokingly. “Let’s-a go!”

“Okie-dokie!”

And, together again, they set off.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

so like. i have a lot of thoughts about monty finch and sexuality and bodily autonomy and they're only half-coherent so like. strap in.

okay, so monty's gotta have some very complicated feelings about personhood/dehumanization/consent/sex/etc. that would take him ages to unravel, whether you slap him in au or in canon. there are just so many things to say about how monty was created to be an object of pleasure, of desire, and that if this show didn't play out in literally exactly in the way it did, with edwin already interested in charles/etc., then things would have gotten so dubious and complicated so fucking fast because sex is literally what esther was aiming for when she created monty. what does that say about identity and personhood and dehumanization of self both on an internal and external level, all of those comments she makes about his "handsome/charming face" and how he was made to "seduce/tempt" combined with the fact that she is his creator.

esther finch is the closest thing that monty has to a god and a mother and an owner and she is telling him that his only purpose is to be an object.

to be created to be consumed. to be created to be devoured, to be an object of pleasure and desire, to be made to be destroyed, to be hungered for but never be allowed to hunger, to be punished the moment you stray off the path, the moment your feelings become true, to be expected to perform romance/sex by the person who created you, made you, crafted you to be pleasing to the eye, to be made to be used up because you were never supposed to be a person in any way that mattered.

i have too many thoughts about the gothic horror specifically of monty and esther finch and the scenes that take place within esther's house that have less to do with "ooh, spooky crow" and more to do with subjects of taboo and the absolutely fucking creepy vibes that esther has because she collects little girls and birds and she makes monty and the fact that that house is a haunted house before charles and edwin ever fucking enter it, it's haunted by the girls it devoured, it's haunted by the magic that it devoured, monty is implied to have already been killed in crow form before in that house, and he is reconstituted into the form of the Born Sexy Yesterday Trope, he is boy and he is bird and he is designed to be pleasing to the eye and he is a trap like the snake pit is a trap, pulling in magic, pulling in death, he is born out of his own vicious, bloody, death with the intention of luring in someone for their own death but the only two characters who actually display sexual/romantic/whatever interest in monty are characters who are either literally a predator (a cat to a bird) or a self-described predator (esther herself) and monty is supposed to be a predator, chasing after his target, but he is only ever prey.

anyway i find it funny how every character on this show seems to be living in a slightly different genre (whether that be a murder mystery, a psychological thriller, a character drama, a coming-of-age-queer bildungsroman, a rom-com- niko and jenny and maxine in episode 5, shoutout to the girls, etc.) and how the scenes between monty and edwin are shot like a rom-com/sweet romantic story of their own but the fucking moment you pan over to esther watching or to the scenes with esther and monty in esther's house or even to the scenes in the forest you realize that monty, more than any other characters (save the devlin house, shout-out to the devlin house), is living in a straight-up gothic horror and for a moment he manages to convince himself that he's not because if he allowed himself to register the truth he would not be able to process it/allow himself to function within the role that esther crafted for him, as he literally admits with his comment about "all these human feelings"

anyway like. i. just. have. a lot of fucking thoughts all the time about the intersection of parental/guardian abuse and monty's experience with romance/sexuality/bodily autonomy and what all of that bound up together means.

[aspoonofsugar]

Vaggie's Design

This is both an appreciation post and an analysis of Vaggie's design! It will combine ideas from other metas and will try to show that not only are Vaggie's looks gorgeous, but also telling of the kind of person she is.

A FLUTTERING MOTH

As many other Hellaverse characters, Vaggie has an animal motif. Specifically, her hair resembles folded moth wings. Even her bow is loosely butterfly-shaped, in a subtle allusion to these insects:

Why is that so? Vaggie's link with moths has a double meaning:

1-Moths are attracted to light. In fact, one hypothesis is that they use bright celestial lights (like the moon) to navigate. Well, our angelic moth has found the brightest star of all. The morningstar to be precise:

Charlie inspires and guides Vaggie with her idealism, hope and kindness. Vaggie is lost, but through Charlie she finds a new path.

2- Moths are associated with the cycle of death and rebirth (just like butterflies). They start their lives as caterpillars, enter cocoons and come out as moths. Not only that, but many moth caterpillars go through their transformations in holes dug in the ground. This is exactly what happens to Vaggie:

She is robbed of her wings and abandoned in Hell, the deepest chasm on Earth. There she heals and grows stronger, until she gains new wings:

Interestingly, these two aspects of Vaggie's story can be found in her design, as well. In fact:

Vaggie's looks are complementary to Charlie's, as a symbol of their strong bond

Vaggie has (obviously) some angelic imagery, which comments her metamorphosis

Let's explore these two visual motifs!

CHARLIE'S PARTNER

Just like moths, Vaggie is linked to night, shadow, moon and the color silver.

Charlie is instead associated to day (she is the morning-star), light, rainbows and the color gold.

The complementarity of their color-palette is even in their respective eyes:

Vaggie has red sclera and golden irisis

Charlie has yellow sclera and red pupils

The girls' interconnected aesthetic mirrors their internal compatibility, highlighted also by their body-shapes and styles. As a matter of fact Vaggie and Charlie are opposites body-wise. Vaggie is short, while Charlie is tall. Vaggie's design has mostly angular shapes, whereas Charlie’s uses softer lines. However, Vaggie's clothes are more loose and comfortable, in juxtaposition to Charlie's which are stricter and business-like. As this analysis suggests, that is because of the two partners' different personalities:

Charlie is kind and sweet, but wants more respect and needs to grow tougher

Vaggie is harsh and distrustful, but wants to be a good person and needs to show her sensitivity more

So, both girls choose the kind of clothes closest to who they want to become:

Charlie wears androgynous tuxedos to appear masculine and self-assured. She wants to be respected as an inspiring and competent leader. So, she chooses power-suits to look professional.

Vaggie instead usually sports a short skirt and loose long hair to appear feminine. Why is she so intrigued with femininity? The answer lies in her past as an exorcist.

THE FALLEN EXORCIST

Exorcists all wear the same gray and black uniform, which resembles pigeon's plumage. Vaggie used to be the same:

Not only that, but Vaggie's hair in the flashback is similar to Lute's:

Both girls have their hair short in a masculine and practical attire. In general, their outfits are functional, but anonymous and their faces are hidden behind masks. That’s because they are not allowed to be people, but are prisoners of a repressive cult led by Adam. The First Man teaches them to hate and kill, so their sense of self gets intertwined with strength and violence. They are trapped in toxic masculinity.

So, the moment Vaggie is freed, she starts expressing her most feminine side. This happens both aesthetically and psychologically. On the one hand she dresses like a girly girl. On the other hand she starts working on her own interiority. Vaggie is superficially masculine, as she is a good fighter and aggressive. However, she has many feminine traits hidden within her. For example, she is very emotionally intelligent and emphatic, even if she masks these qualities with her brash persona. So, her choice of clothing metaphorically represents a deeper transformation she is undergoing.

At the same time, this restyling is an attempt to leave her past self behind. In fact, Vaggie hates who she was:

Vaggie: Those angels' minds are hard to change They're bloodthirsty and deranged!

And wants to become someone new:

Vaggie: When I saw your face You made me feel like a stranger in a brand new place And it felt so good to be understood But there's so much I wished that I could say So I, I'll be your armor Do whatever it takes, I'll make the mistakes I'll spend my life being your partner

Her exorcist side, though, is still there and comes to the surface in the way she looks. Let's consider the X over her eye, for example:

Vaggie: Wait… you know I'm an exorcist? How? Carmilla: You have a giant X over your eye and wield an angelic spear. It's not rocket science.

Vaggie's current appearance both negates and alludes to her angelic nature. Her hair is a great example of this.

Vaggie changes her hair and lets it grow. In this way she reaches two goals. She embraces her femininity and hides both the scar on her eye and her missing wings. It is a way to start anew and to cover up her vulnerability.

Vaggie's hair resembles her angelic wings, both in shape and in color. It even has the two darker stripes typical of exorcists. Moreover, the locks over her eye is similar to a wing. It is a call back to her past self.

So, Vaggie's hair is both a camouflage and a hint of the truth. Both something new and a link to the past. Why is there such a contradiction?

That's because Vaggie needs to accept who she was in order to grow into who she wants to be. A moth starts as a larva before she can gain wings of her own. The same goes for our rebellious angel.

In order to protect her newfound loved ones, she needs to hone her past abilities. In order to redeem herself, she needs to forgive herself and to come to terms with her angelic nature:

Vaggie: It's not her fault. Angels are just-- Angel Dust: Liars? Vaggie: …Difficult.

It is only through this reconciliation that she can complete her beautiful metamorphosis. This process is shown through her wings:

As an exorcist, Vaggie's wings are black and white like her sisters', but she only has one black stripe, while the others have two. This shows how Vaggie is able to resist Adam's brainwashing to an extent. Her leader exhibits two lines, but Vaggie dares to only have one. This makes her different and not perfectly fitting. In particular, the black and white vision she was conditioned to believe is not fully rooted into her. She can still empathize with a sinner.

As a fallen angel, Vaggie's wings are silver because she is starting to reconcile her different parts. She is integrating her past as an exorcist with her present as a demon. She is realizing the world isn't black and white, but gray. Just like she is. At the same time, she still has her darker stripe. It is just that now it has a much lighter shade, which is similar to the one in her hair. She is slowly growing into herself.

This development shows fully in Vaggie's looks in the Finale.

VAGGIE'S BATTLE OUTFIT

Vaggie's battle outfit is a synthesis of her development in season 1, so it is meaningful on all the three levels addressed in this analysis:

Vaggie's complementarity with Charlie

The integration of masculine and feminine

The reconciliation of past and present self

1- During the final battle Vaggie keeps being complementary to Charlie:

The princess of Hell wears a mini-dress with a heart decoration and wields a shield. Moreover she unties her usually braided hair to enter her demonic form. Finally, her color scheme is red and black with golden weapons.

The fallen exorcist fully covers her body with a practical attire and fights with her signature spear. Moreover, she keeps her hair tied, so that her angelic wings can come out more easily. Finally, her color scheme is blue and white with a silver weapon.

2- Vaggie usually appears feminine, but she chooses a more masculine outfit to fight. Her clothes are simple and easy to move in. She even ties her hair, so it won't get in the way. In short, she appears much more androgynous than she usually does. Despite this, she still retains some girly elements, like the red/pink decorations and her signature bow. She is a mix of girlish (pink) and boyish (blue).

3- Vaggie's looks put together elements of both her demon and angel self.

On the one hand several people have noticed similarities between Vaggie's battle uniform and Carmilla's appearance. Specifically, Carmilla has an X motif going on in her design, just like Vaggie:

Moreover, she tells Vaggie to "harness her heart" and in the final fight Vaggie puts a giant "harness" over her chest.

On the other hand it is obvious Vaggie's outfit is a deliberate call back to the exorcists' uniform. Vaggie's boots, gloves and overall silhouette are similar to Lute's:

And she exhibits a giant white X, which makes the reference crystal clear.

Vaggie both harnesses her heart and wears her past on it. She doesn't need to hide her exorcist self anymore:

Vaggie: I mean, personally, I'm excited. It's been a while since I stabbed anyone and really meant it, you know what I mean?

But this is precisely why she is free to change:

Lute: Do it, then. Correct your mistake. Vaggie: Seriously, you're pathetic, you know that? Ready to die rather than accepting mercy? No, live. Live, knowing that you only do because I let you. A failure.

Vaggie's choice to spare Lute is the pinnacle of her character arc up until now:

She chooses to embrace Charlie's ideology over Adam and Lute's (there was no mistake to correct)

She expresses values, which are traditionally feminine (she has mercy)

She lets Lute live, which is metaphorically Vaggie sparing her past self

She doesn't kill Lute because she is strong enough to forgive herself and live on. Her empathy and mercy are not flaws to correct, but traits to embrace. Finally, she has now someone she is free to fly to and that accepts her for who she truly is.

WHAT DOES "X" STAND FOR?

There is still a detail in Vaggie's design to discuss: her "X-eye".

Vaggie's X eye starts as a joke. In the pilot both it and Vaggie's tits are barred because she lacks both:

Angel Dust: Did you ever think maybe she's sensitive about her lack of wings, just like her lack of tits?

However, in the series it becomes a hint to her background as an exorcist:

Exorcists have an X over their eyes because their vision is heavily biased and simplistic. They can't see clearly, but understand the world in black and white:

'Cause the rules are black and white There's no use in tryin' to fight it They're burnin' for their lives Until we kill 'em again!

Still, why does Vaggie truly lose an eye? There are two thematic reasons.

1- Vaggie's loss alludes to the saying "an eye for an eye", which can be completed in two opposite ways:

"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" - Or in this case, an eye for an arm, as Lute cuts off her left one to free herself. This phrase is associated with revenge, which Vaggie deep down desires:

I know you'rе thirstin' for vengeance, Vaggie You're out for blood

"An eye for an eye makes the world blind" - This phrase means that if you answer violence with violence the end result will be bad for everybody. This is Charlie's belief:

Sir Pentious: Who could forgive a dirtbag like me? I don't deserve your amnesty Angel Dust and Vaggie: Can't we just kill him? Shoot him and spill his blood? Charlie: That's an… option you could choose Angel Dust and Vaggie: Works for us! Charlie: But, who hasn't been in his shoes? It starts with sorry!

In season 1's climax Vaggie has to choose where she stands, as she defeats Lute and tops over her. Her answer is to give up hate and to choose love:

You're gonna fight without gloves And when that push comes to shove Yeah, you just might rise above Long as you're out for love

2- Losing an eye is often symbolic of gaining knowledge. This stems from Odin's legend, where the god trades his eye (outside knowledge) for infinite wisdom (inner knowledge).

In a sense, Vaggie does the same. She trades her left eye for a deeper knowledge of good and evil. Her sisters might see better, as they have both eyes. However, Vaggie develops a clearer understanding of the world. Not only that, but she is even given a very special apple to do so. Charlie is Vaggie's very own Fruit of Knowledge. It is not by chance that the Princess of Hell's first action after meeting Vaggie is to bandage the fallen angel's missing eye:

An eye and a halo for knowledge and love.

THE FUTURE

Vaggie's design is deep down all about:

Her bond with Charlie, their complementarity and their parallel integration of masculine and feminine traits

Her journey of death and rebirth, where she heals and forgives, so that she can bloom into her real self

So, I am expecting her future outfits and physical changes to mirror these two aspects of her story. Who knows? Maybe she will even gain some new visual motifs. Here are three examples:

1- Vaggie's design is loosely inspired by Zoophobia Lollygag:

This character has a pirate motif and interestingly Vaggie is seen dancing on a ship in season 1:

Will the ship and Vaggie's pirate influence get some more exploration later on? Could the ship become somehow symbolic of Charlie and Vaggie's relationship? So, of Chaggie as a ship?

2- Vaggie has a dancer motif already, as her fighting practice with Carmilla is nothing, but a dancing lesson:

Vaggie is supposed to learn how to express herself more and dance is set up to become her preferred language to do so. So, maybe this will influence her appearance, as well.

3- Finally, I am curious to see if Vaggie will end up getting a full demon form, similar to Lucifer's:

After all, Vaggie and Lucifer are strong parallels and share some similarities design-wise, as TV Tropes highlights:

They are both very short, but stronger than what they seem

They have retractable wings. Not only that, but their wings mark them as different from other angels. Vaggie's have one single line instead of two, whereas Lucifer's are red instead of blue/light blue

Both of their hairstyle resembles their respective animal motif. Vaggie's hair is similar to a moth, whereas Lucifer sports a ducktail cut. Moreover, both have a head accessory, which is animal-shaped. Vaggie's bow is meant to look like a moth, while Lucifer's hat has a golden snake on it.

So, it is possible Vaggie too will end up transforming herself into a form, which combines her angelic and demonic traits more. This might happen as Charlie instead starts exhibiting more angelic traits inherited from Lucifer. In any case, Vaggie and Lucifer's similar head accessory is especially interesting to me. After all, Lucifer's golden snake turns into a fake halo when he transforms. So, will we see Vaggie gain a bright pink halo made of her signature bow? If so, I am looking forward to it!

[wardenparker]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 8

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 8.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas, discussion of money/finances.* Miscommunication, fluff, flirting, surprises. Summary: The first party you and Javi throw at the house turns out be to much more eventful than anticipated! Notes: As a heads up for next week, I'll be taking Sunday the 20th off from posting. It is birthday weekend for my beloved @julesonrecord and I'll be in VT with her to celebrate. Enjoy your holidays if you celebrate, and enjoy the triumphant return of TLoU!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

Saturday, May 24, 2025

“Sweetheart, did you want the stack of towels outside?” Javi asks. The pool is done, beautiful and perfectly balanced chemically thanks to the pool company that you had hired. Now the moment that everyone had been waiting for. The pool party that you had offered to throw. Combining the celebration of breaking ground on the house and finishing the pool.”

“Will you put them on the table behind where we have the chairs set up?” For all the flirting around you’re doing, the outside observer might think you’re nervous about this party. But in the last few weeks you’ve felt more yourself than ever.

Javi is wearing one of the new shirts you made him with the linen you picked up a few weeks ago, and you made yourself a wrap dress to use as a swimsuit cover up. There are plenty of drinks, tons of food, and a plethora of friends coming over. It’s really the first party you’re throwing at the house, and the house isn’t even built yet — but the excitement is here.

"Did Billie say that she would be able to make it?" Filming is done for the week and he knows that everyone is looking forward to relaxing. Alex joked that he might never get out of the pool and Tamara agreed whole heartedly. The production was close and it was a good time, something that Javi loved. Nick was out of town, but Olivia was coming, so he couldn't complain.

“She said she would be here after work.” You check your watch as you shift pillows on the brand new lounge chairs around the pool. “So that should be around one o’clock.”

"How is the outdoor kitchen working out?" Javi asks. "Martin said he was going to check in with us in a few days to make sure there's nothing we want to change or add after we used it a few times."

“Today will be the real test.” Everything is at least functional, but it will take a party to make sure that it flows well and that nothing needs changing. “It’s noon now, so people should start showing up any time. Is there anything else you need to do to get ready, mi amor?”

"Just to give you a kiss and tell you that I want to strip that swimsuit off of you." He smirks, and moves over to pull you into his arms.

“I’ll let you tonight,” you promise him, moving easily into his side and sighing at the nearness of his soft warmth.

"I love my new shirt," your fingers slide across his chest and stroke the fabric gently. Making him smile as you do it almost unconsciously. "It is probably the best fit I've ever had."

“It probably helps that I know your body better than any seamstress you could have gone to.” Flirting with your husband is more than second nature at this point. It’s as easy as breathing. “But…you really like it? You’re not just saying that?”

"Sweetheart, I love it." He promises, his hand covering yours in reassurance. "Honestly? I was going to ask if you could make me another just like it."

“I’ll make as many as you want.” Starting to design and sew and mend again has brought you so much comfort and joy over the last few weeks that you can’t possibly express it. It’s like someone reached into your chest and held your rib cage open, giving you the space to breathe. “Pants, shorts, anything you want.”

"I just don't want to load you down." He leans in and kisses you softly.

“You couldn’t possibly.” The notebook you carry on set is starting to fill with dress designs just like your notebooks did when you were younger, you’ll be glad to add other things alongside.

"What do you think about making me something to wear to the premier?" He asks. It's still a long way off, but he wants to encourage you as much as he can.

“Seriously?” You perk up at that idea, eyes wide with surprise. “You…on a red carpet? You want to wear something homemade?”

"Why not?" He asks, smiling confidently at you. "All designers were homemade at one point."

The way your heart swells almost makes it feel like you’re floating. “You really have that much faith in me?”

“I really have that much faith in you.” He repeats with a nod and a small wink. “Whatever you want. I trust you completely. Match us too if you can.”

“If I start designing now, I’ll have enough time.” The suggestion — and the support — earn him a grateful kiss. One that you sink into happily and let the world melt away.

“I will help you in whatever way I can.” He promises with a happy smile. The idea was planted and he loves encouraging you. What’s even better? You have true talent.

"Can I show you my sketches when I have a few ideas?" That's the stage you're in now -- ideas and concepts -- and you're not going to claim otherwise.

“You can show me anything.” He shares his pages with you sometimes, uses you as a sounding board when he is hung up or unsure of where to go with a scene, and he would be honored if you did the same thing. “I promise I will never be anything but honest with you.”

"And that is the very best thing that you could possibly be." There is time for a kiss lasting just a few seconds, but the doorbell sounds from inside the house before you can sink into it. "I'll go get that."

“Okay.” You had already set out some snacks, so Javi goes to the outdoor bar to start setting out drinks, ready for the party to get underway.

It's Moira at the door, squealing with excitement and ready to hug. "Hi gorgeous!!" You squeak, throwing your arms around her the second you open the door.

“I am soooooo ready to lounge by your pool and pretend it’s mine.” She teases with a huge grin and pulls back to press the bottle of cheap champagne she had bought into your hand. “Shouldn’t we break a bottle over the grill or something? Like they do ships?”

"Mi casa es su casa, bitch. Get in here." You tug her inside, giggling, and practically fly through the house to the back porch.

"Oh god, it's gorgeous." She's seen pictures, but she's not seen the final product until now. You and Javi had teasingly kept everyone away until the big reveal tonight. "It's- babe- you now live the dream!"

"I've been living the dream for months." Sighing softly – happily – and looking back at your best friend, you grin. "Welcome to paradise, babe. Construction on the house is fully underway!"

"How do you feel about the plans?" She asks, brows raised and her lips twisting into a grin.

"What do you know about the plans?" Her reaction to the final design for the house makes you raise your eyebrow in turn. "Don't tell me you were Javi's consultant?"

Her shrug is just a little too casual. "I don't know what you are talking about." She hums innocently.

"You sneaks!" It's pure blustering, of course, but you had been so excited to unveil the house plans to Moira and your friends this weekend. For a moment you can't tell if you're more touched or bewildered that they managed to coordinate everything without you knowing any of it. "Javi, it was Moira? You got my dreamhouse plans out of her with no effort, didn't you?"

Javi looks between you and Moira and there is a little bit of a conspiring grin that is twisting his lips, but he just shrugs just as casually as Moira did earlier. "Don't know what you are talking about."

"Amor de mi vida." There is already a drink in your hand, as you automatically started pouring for Moira and then for yourself, and you brandish the cold glass at him with fervor. "You sneak!" You repeat, breaking out into giggles.

"I wanted to make sure that I was not doing too much." Javi admits, grinning and moving over to you again to steal a kiss.

"He absolutely did too much," Moira promises you.

"Oh, I know." If you're a little teary, neither your husband or your best friend is going to call you out on it just yet. "I finally saw the plans. I thought I was going to be surprising you with the mini-modified Hazelwood that my soulmate is building for our family. But you knew. Sneak!"

"He wanted to make sure you wouldn't hate it or think he was insane." She throws her arm around you and laughs wildly. "I cannot believe that you are going to basically create history with this house."

When you had at last joined Javi and your architect for the finalization of the plans for the house and seen what your husband had created, you had wept with surprise and love. Javi, who had given up building one dream house already, had swept in and picked up your dream with wild abandon. The big difference, he had said, is that the landscaping he had in mind was from his family's home in Mallorca. Your suggestion of olive trees on the property went along with his wish to recreate some of the gardens from home, and all at once the decision had been complete.

"It still needs a name," you remind both of them, caught happily in the middle of a husband-and-best-friend hug sandwich. "Javi insists it has to have a name."

"Whatever it is, it needs to pay homage to the original Hazelwood." Moira taps her finger on the edge of the glass you had given her and takes a sip. "Why not something like Olivewood or...." She shrugs. "I don't know."

"We thought about Olivewood." It was the first idea, in fact, but it had been vetoed fairly quickly. "But we thought Olivia would hate it. It sounds a little too much like it's named after her."

"Almas Gemelas." She smirks at the romanticism of it. "You can't say no to that."

"Almas Gemelas." You look up to Javi, with the hum of the words on your lips. Soulmates. Surely a house built by love can be named for it, too.

He tilts his head and smiles. "You like it?" He asks softly. "Because I do."

It only takes one step to move into his side again, sliding your arms around his waist and lifting your chin up to place a sweet kiss on his lips. “Then it’s settled.”

“We will have to have it written on the gates.” He’s going to make sure that the property is secure for his family.

“Oo, gates?” Moira grins. “Fancy schmancy.”

“Yes, but you will have a code for the gate.” He promises with a quick smile. “Family is always welcomed anytime.”

“What did I tell you?” You wink, giving her arm a squeeze when you hear the doorbell again. “Mi casa es su casa.”

Jason is next, greeting Javi happily when he comes inside and bringing a bottle of booze that he swears is the best.

Tracy and Tandy arrive not longer after, practically dragging Heather in tow. While the costumer claims not to be much for parties, she does love all of the people here, so she let herself be talked into accepting the invitation. Olivia and Tamara arrive nearer to one o'clock, and then the last arrivals of the day are left to be Alex and Billie.

"If they get here at the same time, my cousin might combust," you joke to Moira, who fully understands the being at a party with your celebrity crush craziness. She seems to be avoiding Jason still but you're trying not to press.

“She likes Alex?” Moira hums, knowing that the man is technically attractive, but she just finds him sweet.

"I think most people in America who are attracted to men like Alex at least a little." But you just grin, shrugging one shoulder in faux innocence. "All I know is that she keeps asking about him and her voice gets all squeaky and pitchy when she does. So am I gonna intentionally throw them together like a meddling old granny? Of course I am."

She rolls her eyes and then freezes for a second before grabbing your arm. “Please don’t throw me with- uh, um—” she stops when Jason moves closer, within hearing. “Never mind.”

The way Moira just about freezes and Jason looks like a kicked puppy fully activates your bullshit meter, and you nab your best friend's hand. "C'mere," you insist. "I need help grabbing something from inside." You drag Moira inside before she can sputter a protest, and close the sliding glass door behind you. "Talk." You insist. "It's been weeks since the boob graze. Is it still making shit weird?"

“No……” she rolls her eyes and huffs before you practically growl at her. “No.” she insists when you look skeptical. “I fucked up, okay?” She hisses, grabbing your arm and turning you away from glass door so no one outside can read her lips. “I humiliated myself in front of him, so it’s best if I just never talk to him again.”

"I can't believe that." You shake your head, but lead her away from the windows to sit down at the table. "I'm sure it was a misunderstanding. Whatever it was."

She lets out snort. “I wish.” She sighs, shoulders slumping as she gives in. She’s been too embarrassed to say anything. “He- he came by the desk a couple of days ago.” She admits. “He asked me out.”

“Oh my god!” The massive screech you have to immediately smother is nothing like her reaction in any way. “I thought you would have been excited! Why aren’t you excited? You’ve had a crush on Jason for years!”

She closes her eyes and groans as she buries her face in her hands and mumbles something you don’t quite catch.

“Babe,” you reach forward to hold her hand. “You gotta use your big girl words and tell me what happened.”

She can’t help but laugh at your comment and sighs again. “Are you sure you want to know?” Her tone is playfully dramatic but you just wait, “I opened my mouth to answer him and guess who had just finished her Sprite.”

"That's it?" That's all? That can't be all! Your wrinkle your nose but tilt your head, trying to fully take in Moira's embarrassment. Because she clearly is. She's mortified just retelling the moment by half. "You burped? That's all?"

“Then I started laughing and ended up snorting.” She groans. “And I just…decided to run away.”

"But..." You lean forward and set your chin expectantly on your upturned palm. "You never gave him an answer."

“Seriously?” She huffs. “That’s what you’re focused on? Not that I completely embarrassed myself? I can’t even look at him, let along give him an answer to a question he has to regret.”

"Why in the hell would he regret asking you out?" Her hand is easy to catch in yours with all of her flailing, and you bring it back to the table to attempt reeling her in. "You're smart, sweet, hot as hell, and oh no! You're human, too. If he regrets asking you out just because you burped and got embarrassed then he's less than a quarter of the person I thought he was and it's him who should be embarrassed instead."

“Don’t be mad at him.” Even though she’s completely embarrassed and not maybe a little ashamed of her running away, she’s defending Jason. He doesn’t deserve you talking bad about him.

"I'm only going to be mad if he deserves it." That part, at least, deserves clarification. "But my bet is, he's either still waiting on that answer or he's mortified that he made you feel bad."

“There’s no way.” She doesn’t believe it for a second but it makes her feel slightly better. “I mean-“ she shakes her head, “he’s famous and gorgeous and smart…..”

"And he likes you, dumb ass." With the hand that isn't tightly gripping hers, you pinch Moira's arm and grin when she huffs at you to smother a laugh. "You should go talk to him. Apologize for being a weirdo and let him take you out."

“And what are you going to say when you’re wrong about something?” She demands, wanting to know when you became so fucking reasonable.

"I will apologize for meddling, and then meddle again very quickly after." As if to prove the point, or at least punctuate it, you press a kiss to the knuckles of her hand that you're still holding and wave toward the door. "But angel, that boy looked like a spurned hound dog out there. He's yearning, Moira Elizabeth Keene. Yearning!"

“He’s not yearning.” She huffs even if it does make her actually look outside at where Jason is staring into his drink like it will give him the secrets of the universe. “Is he?”

“That is not the face of a man who has all the things in life he wants,” you insist. Just because you said you were getting something, you get up from the table and take out The rest you had packed of things to throw in the grill. It’s not too early to start making lunch. “Yearning. Pining. Moping. Whatever you want to call it, he’s doing it. And if he asked you out then my guess is he’s wishing he’d at least gotten an answer.”

“Shit.” She sighs and hangs her head. “So you’re saying I should go talk to him?” She asks, even though she knows that’s exactly what you are saying.

“And more than that,” you wag a finger at her. “You should say yes.”

“Yes mom.” She groans and hangs her head for a moment before she takes a deep breath. “When this backfires, I’m blaming you.” She grumbles, walking to the door to go back outside.

"You're welcome," you hum at her back, waiting two beats before you follow so that she doesn't feel hustled.

Moira bites her lip, happy that she hadn’t had anything to drink yet as she slowly approaches Jason. “Hey…” she murmurs softly.

Startled by what is definitely the first time ever that Moira has spoken to him first, Jason looks around in every direction before pointing at his own chest. "Hey me?"

She huffs out a small laugh before letting it die in her throat and swallows. “Yeah, you.” She nods. “Um—”

"Do you wanna..." He nods his head away from the pool where there is a little privacy. "Walk?"

“Sure, yeah- I mean—” she shakes her head again. “I think we should talk.” She manages.

Jason's normally easy smile has been absent the last few days, and he chews on his lip as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts. He's just going to savor walking beside her and soak up her aura and he'll nurse his surprisingly devastated broken heart in private. "Yeah," he nods his head. "Sure."

Both of them are awkward and Moira lets Jason lead here wherever he wants to out, even though it’s just on the other side of the pool so far. “I-- I’m sorry.” She blurts out after the silence between them starts driving her insane.

"It's okay." He shakes his head, jumping onto the apology like Steve Rogers onto that grenade in Captain America. "You're not interested. I—it's fine. I get it."

“What? No! I mean, not no, I mean that I—” she sighs in frustration. “I’m sorry that I was so gross and just- burped and then laughed about it.”

He laughs reflexively, swallowing the chuckle when she looks genuinely upset about the whole thing. "I'm not one of those 'girls shouldn't have bodily functions' kind of assholes," he tells her, hands squirming where they are still shoved in his pockets. He wants to reach out and reassure her but can't be certain the gesture would be acceptable. "I was more upset when you Road Runner-ed out of the room like a rocket was after you."

Relief rushed through her like a tsunami and she manages to laugh. “I had just made a complete ass out of myself in front of Jason Grant.” She reminds him. “God, I just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.”

The shade of pink that overtakes Jason's cheeks is nearly cartoonish. "I don't see why it should matter," he mumbles, one hand combing through his hair nervously. "I just...I like you. A lot. And I thought maybe you might like me too..."

“You—” Moira frowns. “You still want to go out with me?” She can’t react to that ‘a lot’ part, otherwise she’ll start squealing.

Jason just shrugs. "If I was gonna give up just because we're both human enough to be awkward around each other then I never deserved a chance in the first place." It's the first time in days that a smile returns to his lips, and he blushes even harder because of it. "Plus...ya know...you're cute when you do that laughing-snort thing."

“Really?” It’s her turn to fluster, completely floored by the fact that this man, this gorgeous man, is blushing and thinks she’s cute. “I— don’t—” she laughs nervously and does the little snort, which only makes her laugh harder. “I didn’t— d-do that on pur-purpose!” She promises while giggling.

The full, bashful smile that blossoms on Jason’s face is beaming. “I know.” There is a chance, he hopes, and he gently touches her arm with barely enough fingers to count as his hand. “That’s why I like it. It’s just…you.”

The giggles calm down, sobered by the look on his face that could only be described as yearning. She’s never going to hear the end of this. “I—” she licks her lips and can’t help but laugh at herself again. “If this was a movie, this would be the scene where I don’t answer you, I just throw myself at you and kiss you.” She admits. “But since this isn’t a movie…” she smiles back at him. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“It can be a movie if you want it to be.” He’s teasing — probably — mostly because he’ll do whatever he can to get her to keep looking at him like that. But he’s just ecstatic to have gotten a yes, so he’s not going to push his luck. “Tomorrow? Or is—is that too soon?”

She nods, grinning because she feels a little more confident knowing that Jason still wants to go out with her and apparently wants a kiss. “Tomorrow’s good, tonight is better.” She admits. “What better date than a Hollywood party?” She teases, gesturing around the back yard. “This is my kind of date.”

He had a whole thing planned. A romantic picnic, flowers, stargazing. He’ll save the plan for date number two. “Then this is perfect,” he agrees, opening up the hand that was just touching her arm in invitation. She can take it if she wants — and he hopes she will — or he’ll go as slow as she wants him to. All that matters is that she’s giving him a shot.

It’s like something out of a fairy tale and she presses her lips together to keep from squealing. “If I- uh- pinch myself occasionally….” She ventures. “Don’t think anything of it. Just making sure this isn’t some kind of Inception dream.”

“How about you pinch me and I’ll pinch you?” It comes out just a tad flirtier than he meant it to, but he doesn’t correct himself or apologize. She’s said yes — he’s going to flirt. “Just to make sure we’re both awake.”

“Well you can just pinch me whenever and wherever you want.” She’s bolder now, especially with the way that he’s eyeing her. Now she can let herself believe those looks are actually meant for her.

Jason smirks, scoops her to his side with an arm around her waist, and pinches her side playfully. “Good to know,” he hums, grinning like he just won the lottery.

“I’m sorry I pulled a Houdini and just left you hanging.” She admits. “I should have tried to say something.”

“We’re only human.” He gives her side a squeeze, still smiling. “I’m just glad you said yes, even if I had to wait to hear it.”

“I guess that I just didn’t believe that you would want to go out with me.” She admits. “And I just got stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.” He would argue that point with her if necessary, but for now he shakes his head and starts to lead her back to the party. “But you are cute when you blush. For the record.”

“And you’re just…cute all the time.” She huffs, her arm sliding around his back cautiously. Still slightly overwhelmed that she can touch him.

“Are we going to get into one-ups-manship this early in the relationship?” He raises an eyebrow at her, and suppresses a little shiver of excitement. The early stages are full of the thrills of new attraction and he’s been pining since the very first day of filming. “Noted.”

She bites her lip and hums as she motions towards the bar. “Let’s get a drink.”

Alex is at the bar when Jason and Moira wander over with their arms around each other, and he smirks but momentarily suppresses his impulse to tease mercilessly. “This is gonna be the party house,” he observes instead, waving his hand at the way the full bar is set up. “They really went all out.”

“Yeah they did.” Jason can easily agree and he looks down at Moira. “This is the perfect place to socialize without worrying about paps.”

"And the place isn't even fully gated yet." Moira accepts the glass of sangria that Jason pours for her with a blushing grin. Have you guys heard about the plans yet?" Now that the secret is out in the open, she doesn't mind sharing anymore. Especially since you're so delighted with the house that Javi is building for you.

“Nothing.” Alex huffs, pouting slightly. “I’ve been trying to get Javi to crack, I know the man has taste, but he’s not said a word.”

"He wanted to show her first." Your best friend nods in your direction, where you're laughing by the other end of the pool with Tamara and a woman with pink hair that she's never met before. That must be the cousin you mentioned.

“Who is that?” Alex drops the rag he was holding and leans in, eyes narrowing as he looks at the new addition to the party.

"Her cousin, I think?" Moira's head whips back around to see Alex practically gawping and she has to cover her mouth to cover a snorting laugh. "She ran into her cousin a couple of weeks ago and they've been hanging out again." Is Moira your best friend? Of course. She doesn't doubt that for a second. But she also knows that this friendship is older and complicated, and has been consciously giving you the space to work through any complications.

“Her cousin, huh?” Alex is a flirt, a social butterfly, but this girl just draws him in naturally. “I swear I’ve seen her before somewhere.”

"Do you ever shop at Sew Far, So Good in Burbank?" Moira asks, stifling another giggle at the idea of hulking movie star Alex Powell with knitting needles.

Alex snaps his fingers. “That’s where she’s from!” He snorts before he rolls his eyes at Moira. “I buy my yarn online, Moi.” He teases, looking back over at Billie.

"What fucking yarn?" Jason demands, though he is doing nothing at all to hold in his laughter.

Alex flips Jason a bird and huffs before he mutters under his breath.

"Alex," Moira's grin spreads. "Do you have secret crafty grandma tendencies?"

“No.” Alex crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “I just— I occasionally go down to the nursing home near my apartment and let the ladies teach me how to crochet.” He confesses, blushing furiously.

"That..." Moira and Jason exchange a bewildered look of surprise and she looks back at Alex with an entirely new perspective on the man in front of her. She knew he was sweet, but this is a whole extra level to things. "Is incredibly nice of you, actually."

He looks genuinely embarrassed by the compliment. “It’s fun.” He promises. “They get to teach me something and socialize.” He shrugs. “And they don’t care if my latest movie flopped or not.”

“And when their granddaughters visit, they try to set you up?” Jason guesses. “I used to go play chess with the grumpy grandpas in Central Park between shows when I was on Broadway. They started bringing their granddaughters around after a while. It got slightly uncomfortable.” He shrugs. “Hopefully your thing doesn’t get like that.”

“Hope not.” Alex shakes his head. “I think a lot of them don’t talk to their family. Or not a lot.” He sighs, hating that for them. They are a good group of ladies.

Jason nods solemnly, as if he knows that situation all too well, and Moira reaches out to give Alex’s arm a tender squeeze. “It’s even sweeter, then. That they have someone to come and visit them.”

“Let’s uh, just keep that between the three of us, okay?” Alex isn’t ashamed of what he does, but he doesn’t want it interrupted.

“Sure.” Moira and nods at the same time Jason says, “Of course.” They all know that if any media outlet got ahold of that portion of Alex’s life it would be ruined with unwanted attention, so mum’s the word.

"They probably should." Alex admits. His laughs is heartier this time. Fuller. "Alright. I guess I should give it another go, huh?"

“Yeah.” Javi grins. “Apologize first. Then explain.”

"Sounds like the right order to me." It sounds like it's going to be fumbling as hell, but that's okay. If humbling himself in front of that goddess is what it takes to talk to her again? He'll do it.

Javi stands when Alex does and he dutifully takes the empty beer bottle after the other man finishes it. Smirking slightly as he tells Alex that Billie is in the bedroom and walks with him just as far as you are standing.

Billie is adjusting the tie on her bikini when a knock sounds on the door. She's inspecting herself in the mirror to make sure that everything is tied properly and she didn't miss any smears of sunscreen, and wonders if you've come up to talk about Alex some more. "Come on in."

Alex opens the door halfway, poking his head in. “Hi.” He clears his throat. “Can I, um, come in?” He asks, wanting to make sure that she didn’t want to talk with him somewhere else.

"Oh!" That is a hundred percent not who she was expecting, and considering she was planning on spending the rest of the afternoon avoiding him? She's not really sure what to do now. "Uh...if you were looking for my cousin, she hasn't come upstairs."

“I know.” He doesn’t come into the room any more, but he does push the door open a little wider. “I came to talk to you.” He tells her, “to apologize.”

"Oh..." The same small word but with such a different meaning behind it this time. Billie looks around, but it's just them up in the bedroom you and Javi share. Probably better that there are no witnesses for this, she reflects vaguely. "Yeah. Okay. Go ahead..."

“I wasn’t trying to hit on you.” Alex promises before he immediately takes it back. “I mean, I was but I was trying to flirt with you. Playfully, um- and my stupid manager said that women liked the character voice so I figured I would give it a shot, since I was nervous.” He doesn’t rush through his explanation, but he is talking fast like he’s racing a teleprompter. “That being said, I’m sorry that I caused any hurt feelings or upset.” He switched orders on the explanation and apology, but Javi doesn’t have to know that. “I got nervous and stupid.”

“I walked away because I have no interest in being anybody’s one night stand.” Billie hears him. She does. And frankly she appreciates the fuck out of an actual apology even if it’s a little twisted around. “From the way you were starting out, it sounded like — or it felt like — that was what you were going for. So I apologize too, if I assumed wrongly.”

“I don’t…really…like one night stands.” Alex admits. “They feel a little dirty? Like I’m shorting myself of getting to know someone.” He shakes his head. “No excuse, except that I was trying to make a good impression.” He chuckles, flashing a small smile. “Fucked that up.” He sighs and wipes his hands on his trunks. “So, yeah. I’m sorry, and I’ll leave you alone now.”

“Hey Hollywood.” It’s a little trite, but a treating cliche every now and then never hurt anybody. Plus, he turns around so the little tease did its job. “You could get to know me now, if you still wanted to.”

“Yeah?” His face lights up, eyes widening in surprise and gratitude that she is willing to talk to him for another moment. “I’d like that.” He promises.

"Did I miss any sunscreen on my back?" It takes a small act of bravery to ask him to possibly touch her when she knows full well that the last time he did, it almost turned her legs to jelly. But she's feeling bold now that things have been cleared up between them.

He hesitates before he nods. “There’s a big patch missing right in the middle.” He admits. “Do you want me to—”

"Can't very well do it myself," she pauses a second after saying it and laughs. "Obviously. Or it wouldn't be there." She turns slightly, willing herself not to freak out, and waves him over. "Would you mind?"

“Yes madam.” He nods and flashes another grin as he rushes over and grabs the tube of sunscreen. “Hold still, I’ll get you all lotioned up.”

"Thanks." Billie swallows thickly and turns her face away from the mirror, telling herself not to watch. That feels a little too much like the beginning of a porn.

Alex squirts some of the lotion on his hands and rubs them together to warm it up. He knows he hates cold suntan cream. “Here we go.” He murmurs softly, so she can expect to feel him. He bites his lips to keep from groaning at the innocent touch, but her skin is so soft and warm that he has to remind himself that she thinks he’s a tool already and not to embarrass himself.

For her part, Billie feels like she’s about to spontaneously combust the second he touches her, but she hides her face and manages not to make a sound and frankly? That is top notch self-restraint in her book.

“You have soft skin.” Alex comments, before he huffs at himself in annoyance. “I mean—”

Billie barely stifles a giggle. “It’s okay. I mean— I know you’re not a dick now.”

“You make me nervous.” He chuckles softly, relaxing because she isn’t stiffening up or taking it in offense.

“Any particular reason for that?” Her hair isn’t long enough that she needs to move it out of the way, but it gives her something to do with her hands. Something besides twist her fingers around each other over and over again because she’s nervous too.

He snorts softly. “You’re gorgeous.” He tells her, “but you know that. More importantly? You have this…aura.” He never talks about this kind of thing, since people will look at him like he’s crazy. “You seem like you are an amazing person and I – I don’t know.” He admit. “I just know I don’t want to fuck up - again.”

“Hell of a way to flatter a girl.” Her cheeks are as red as they can possibly get when she glances over her shoulder at him, and she wonders if she’s imagining that he’s blushing as well. “Should have led with that, gorgeous. Then we could have skipped the awkwardness.”

He hums, grinning slightly and shrugs. “Hopefully there’s no lasting harm from being a dumb man.” He jokes. “You know we are simple creatures.”

“I might tease you about it a little,” she admits, smile blossoming a little wider on her face. “But that’s only funny if we like…actually end up dating or something. Then it’s a cute story.”

“So why don’t you go on a date with me?” She opened the door and he’s gonna bust through like the Kool-aid man if possible. “Make it that cute story.” His hands are still rubbing her back, even though the cream is worked in.

Billie’s eyes widen and she swallows a hiccup of surprise. “Seriously?”

His hands still before he reaches up for her shoulders to gently turn her around. “Seriously.”

“But—” The protest is inarticulate, practically tripping over her lips as she lets it tumble out. “You—you could date anyone. Literally anyone you wanted to?”

His brow furrows slightly, confused by her reaction. “And I would like to go on a date with you.” He stresses. “Unless you aren’t interested?”

“Oh no, I am.” That probably came out way too fast, but there’s nothing she can do about it now. “I just…it’s a little…” Billie blows out a sigh. “It’s a little surreal, honestly? Like I’ve got a magazine with your face on it in my kitchen table at home and actual you is helping me with sunscreen and asking me out in my cousin’s bedroom.”

“Have you ever seen someone and just…instantly knew they were going to be important to you?” Alex asks, staring at her seriously.

“Once.” She nods slowly. “But it felt…silly.”

“Why is that?” He frowns and wonders if she’s had her heart broken.

“Well…” Even though she’s standing right in front of him with his hands still on her shoulders and the smell of whatever cologne he favors hanging in the air, she feels embarrassed enough to spontaneously combust when she admits, “because you were on a movie screen at the time. It’s not like I’d ever met you. Not…at that point, anyway.”

“Really?” Alex’s eyes widen in surprise before he breaks into a happy smile. Looking just like that human Labrador that you had claimed he was.

“Don’t get cocky on me again, Hollywood.” Billie huffs, but it’s clear now that that little sound of impetuousness is just for show. “I like the sweet, silly version of you a lot better.”

“I can be sweet.” He promises. “I’m just really happy.” He confesses easily. “Happy I didn’t completely bomb out.” He chuckles at himself now.

“I am too.” It would have been a hell of a disappointment, if she’s honest. And she wasn’t looking forward to living with that. “But we should probably go back down? Swim a little? Have a bite?”

“That sounds good to me.” He nods and smiles again. “We can decide when and where we are going on the date later on.” He tells her before stepping back and opening the door. “After you.” He offers.

When they make it back down to the patio, the air smells like grilled meat and there is dance music playing — something pop-ish with a salsa beat that Billie doesn’t recognize but people seem to be enjoying. Frankly she doesn’t really care. She’s just floating on a happy little cloud right now and not too much in the world could ever hope to pop it.

Alex meets both Javi and your concerned looks and gives a small nod and an even smaller wink. His hand drifting to Billie’s back as he guides her towards the outdoor kitchen. “Thirsty or hungry?” He asks.

“Thirsty,” she decides, mostly because she can see the grill from here and the burgers look like they just went on. “Is that okay with you?”

“Perfect.” He decides to grab a bottle of water since he’s already had two beers. Not wanting to spend the day getting wasted. “What do you want?”

“I think I saw iced tea earlier?” From past his shoulder she can see you trying and failing not to spy on them and she flashes you a thumbs up.

“Tea sounds good.” Alex moves over to the drinks and spies the pitcher with the lemons and ice in it. “I think this is it.”

“She used to dream about throwing parties like this.” Her tone is a little wistful but she’s smiling when Alex hands her a glass of iced tea. “And bigger. The bigger, the better.”

“And from what Javi’s told us, he’s thrown some huge parties.” Alex chuckles. “So I expect they will have people over all the time.”

“Good.” Billie likes the sound of that, still of the mind that you deserve nothing but your dreams. “That’s exactly what she loves and she’ll have so much fun.”

“They are perfect for each other.” Alex’s pang of jealousy isn’t quite as pronounced as it normally is. Excited for a date with Billie overriding that.

“Soulmates.” She smiles and sips her tea. “They’re lucky that they found each other.”

“Yes they are.” Alex sighs softly, wishing that somehow he would just know when he met his soulmate. If it could just be that easy, it would be amazing.

"It's not the only way to be happy, though." She sees the look on his face. It isn't hard to tell that that is what he wants. And for a second she wonders if dating is a waste if they don't have matching marks.

“No, it’s not.” His gaze shifts back to her and he’s hit with that same certainty that she is important to him. “Tell me, what’s your version of a perfect date?” He asks innocent enough except he’s grinning.

“Live music.” They start to wander toward the pool. “Food that’s either not good for you or something totally new.” She thinks for a second and grins guiltlessly. “Has to at least end with a kiss. But preferably that part starts somewhere in the middle.”

“Good food and live music.” He hums. “Sounds like a good dive bar and a band.” He turns his head and winks at her. “Kissing is always acceptable.”

“There’s something to be said for enjoying life—” she starts to say, but finds herself cut off by the unexpected and complete change in the mood of the party after a shriek sounds from the far edge of the pool.

Alex’s head snaps up, but it’s not in anxiety. That shriek is one of happiness and joy. He sees Jason and Moira, touching and kissing frantically and he shakes his head. “Holy shit.” He huffs. “I did not see that coming.”

“What happened?” Billie missed it, whatever it was, but hears you squeal in equal joy just a second later.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!”

“They are soulmates.” It’s the only logical conclusion and he chuckles at the starstruck look on his friend’s face.

“Two sets at one party?” Billie half-laughs, but feels a sting regardless. Quiet jealousy, but it’s still there.

He hears the undercurrent in her voice. The same longing that was probably in his own if he was honest. “Only thing that could make it better is if it was three.” He jokes.

Billie hums, sure there’s no chance, but offers him a smile anyway. “That would make it a hell of a party.”

“Yeah it would.” He feels like she’s not interested in discovering that, so he touches her back. “Why don’t we go say congrats?” He asks. “You know Moira, right?

“We just met today, actually.” She takes his hand when he offers it. It’s a sweet gesture that she appreciates. “But we should still go and say congratulations.”

“You are just meeting all kinds of new people today, aren’t you?” He squeezes her hand gently.

“I seem to be,” she agrees with a small laugh, ready to be swallowed up by the celebrating.

Alex guides her over to the group, not letting go of Billie’s hand, but he throws his other arm around Jason when he reaches him. “Holy shit! I knew it!” He lies, laughing the entire time as he pounds his costar on the back.

"I'm glad someone did!" Jason is crying ecstatic tears, refusing to let go of Moira by accepting the hug as easily as the whirlwind around him. "Because I sure didn't!"

Alex laughs and lets go of his friend to move towards Moria, still holding onto Billie as he folds her into a hug. “Congratulations, beautiful.” He murmurs. “He’s a good man.”

"It's just so crazy." Moira's tears are more of a watery eyes situation and she's sniffling away anything more as she laughs in continuous disbelief. "it's completely crazy."

“Crazy and perfect.” Alex insists with another quick hug before he steps back and draws Billie into his side. “Just like this entire movie has been.”

"I knew I had a good feeling about you guys for a reason." After ducking back into the house to grab champagne, you have reappeared by the pool with the bottle in hand. "This is absolutely cause to celebrate."

“Ohhhh! Let me go get the glasses!” Billie volunteers, wanting to help with the festivities. Maybe it will squelch the tug of jealousy in her.

"Cupboard to the left of the sink!" You call after your retreating cousin's back, just in case she's forgotten.

Alex watches her walk back into the house before he turns back to Jason with a wide grin. “So are you getting married today?” He asks them with a chuckle.

"This group of friends has already had one on-the-spot wedding." Jason laughs, though he leans down and kisses Moira's forehead softly. "Maybe next week."

“It worked for us.” Javi chuckles, taking the champagne bottle from you when you want him to open it. “But I like to think we are special.”

"Very special," you hum, leaning in to kiss him before he fusses with the champagne.

Billie comes back with the glasses while Tamara scoots next to Alex. “Sooooo.” Her voice is dripping with humor. “The cousin, huh?”

"Yeah." Alex smirks an raises an eyebrow at her. "And?"

“Nothing.” She shrugs innocently. “Nothing at all.”

"C'mon Tam-Tam," Alex laughs. "You can say it. What's on your mind?"

She rolls her eyes playfully, but she reaches out to touch his arm. “You look like you’re halfway in love already.”

Unashamed, Alex casts his eyes back toward where Billie is handing out glasses of bubbly with you while Javi pours. "Maybe," he admits dreamily. "She's...I can't explain it. She's special, Tam."

“Wow.” His confession makes her eyes widen and even if she is cautious, she won’t try to dim the light in his eyes. “Good for you.” She murmurs honestly.

"Besides," Alex laughs, nudging his friend. "At this rate, we'll all have met our soulmates before filming wraps."

“Oh I doubt it.” Personal doubt had her scoffing, but like everyone else, she wants to find her person. Soulmate or not. “But it’s a nice thought.”

“You’ll find your person.” Alex loops an arm around her and hugs her to his side. “Or people. Who knows? Maybe you’re lucky enough to have two.”

That makes her laugh. “No one has two.” She huffs. “Not at the same time at least. And I’ve only ever heard of a few cases where someone gets another soulmate after their first one dies.”

“My point,” he nudges her again. “Is don’t give up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She knows he’s meaning well, but it makes her uneasy. With the billions of people on the planet, how is she supposed to find her one? “I won’t, but I’m not gonna focus on me, tonight.” She nods towards Jason and Moira. “My guy looks like he just won an Oscar.”

“He feels like he did.” Or, at least, Alex knows that’s how he would feel if he was in the same circumstance. “Good for them. They’re sweet. And they’ve been dancing around each other for months.”

“I’ve been telling Jason to ask her out.” Tamara rolls her eyes. “He doesn’t listen.”

“You know how he is.” When you appear beside your friends with glasses of champagne for them, you’re all smiles and good cheer. “He’s shy when he’s not sure of something. But he doesn’t need to be shy anymore.”

“No, no he doesn’t.” His eyes are on Billie, smiling as she talks with Moira. “He’s lucky.” He admits, hoping that he could be as confident as Jason with her, even if she isn’t his soulmate.

“He’s not the only one, ya know.” The meddling grin on your face is unmistakable. “You guys like a lot of the same music, but the way.”

“That’s good.” He shrugs innocently. “So I can hope I pick a good live band when I take her out.”

Immediately, you light up with excitement. “Did you already ask??”

“Yeah.” He blushes a little. “When we were in your room, and I was groveling.”

“Good boy!” You squeak with happy approval and practically dance from all the excitement today. “She’s the best. You’re going to have such a good time.”

“She doesn’t understand why I was nervous, but she accepted my apology.” He hums, grinning at you.

"Be as good of a date to her as you are a friend to the rest of us, and you'll be just fine."

“Oh, I will be better.” Alex winks at you. “You missed out.” He teases. “You coulda had all this but you had to find your soulmate.”

"You'll have to make it up to me by being amazing to my cousin." He gets another squeeze from you and a beaming smile. You have a good feeling about this.

“I have to be.” He huffs, shooting you a wide eyed look of terror. “You’ll kick my ass if I don’t!”

"Damn right!" You flash him a wink and stride away again, ready to hug the shit out of your best friend all over again, then tuck yourself under your own soulmate's arm.

“I can’t believe you are my soulmate.” Jason murmurs again, his thumb sweeping over the small patch of skin that tells the world the two of them belong together. “We’ve been around each other for weeks and wasted so much time.”

"It wasn't wasted," Moira insists, though her arms are up around his neck like they never would have been even yesterday. She'd taken off her suit cover and slipped into the pool and Jason had seen the lily tattooed on her hip, the small memorial of her grandmother that she had had for years. And now here they are. "Because we had that time we know things about each other. We know we get along. We have mutual friends. That's not a waste at all."

“Not a waste.” He concedes, albeit a bit begrudgingly. “I want you to move in with me.” He tells her quickly. “We can wait for sex, however long you want, but I want to sleep beside you. Hold you.”

Moira laughs, not because anything he said was wrong or necessary funny, but because she can feel the change in the air already. "You think we're going to be able to sleep next to each other and not have sex?" She poses, smirking at him.

“No.” He admits, grinning even though his voice is a little raspy. “But I didn’t want you to think I expected it.” He shrugs. “I was just hoping you’d jump me in my sleep.”

“If I’m going to jump you, I’d vastly prefer you to be awake,” she laughs, but she’s pulling him in for a kiss all the same.

His own laugh is cut short by her lips. Serious when he draws her closer, feeling like he will never get enough.

Even the little kisses so far have been deep and sweet, and this one is no exception. It’s like the little part of her that’s been missing was in him the whole time and she doesn’t know how she didn’t see it before.

Jason pulls back after a moment and presses his forehead against hers. “This is the best day of my life.”

“Already?” She teases. She’s breathless every time she gets to kiss him but now that they’re real soulmates she feels lighter than air. “The day is barely half over. There’s so much more to go.”

“It feels like it can only get better from here.” He laughs. “But how? When right now is perfect?”

“I guess we’re just going to have to see what happens next.” Moira says. But really? It would take a hell of a lot for this day to get any better.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

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[spookberry]

Just spent a very enjoyable half hour exploring your color guardians universe! How much flexibility is there in their color palettes? Like could a blue end up leaning more teal or indigo, or darker or lighter shades? Or are they pretty much locked in on the palettes you've given them so far? Also has Anita ever accidentally crossed paths with her family since coming back from the timestream and how did that go? (Angsty, I assume.)

wait firstly, Anita did track down her family upon returning and she does gently stalk them. Generally she avoids them cuz it hurts too much to think about. She doesn't have plans to reveal herself to them until she knows the Colorless are completely gone.

secondly

the colors can absolutely go darker and lighter, but the hues don't vary all that much from what you've seen. This is true for all the Color Guardians. They can't really combine colors, based purely off how they were created. However they can wear each other's colors as accents!

-some examples! Red has healing abilities, and if an injury is severe enough Red can leave a healing star which functions like a magic bandaid

-Orange can force people to tell the truth and whenever she does so it usually looks like the affected is wearing orange makeup

-Pink has mind controlling abilities, but can embue this into objects however she sees fit