#deeply and immovably so

[darkurgetrash]

Could not resist drawing my favourite fluffy scene from @dutifullylazybread ‘s fanfic Deeply and Immovably So 💕 if you guys haven’t read it yet, you absolutely must!!

[dutifullylazybread]

WIP Whenever ✨

Thank you @lemonsrosesandlavender for tagging me!! If you haven't gone and read their work--go do it! The way that they write Rolan is delightful!

And, absolutely no pressure, but if you'd like (and you haven't been tagged already!), @jessfromouterspace, @underdark-dreams, and @my-favourite-zhent. Also, if you see this post and weren't tagged but you want to share something you've written too, consider yourself tagged (the no pressure caveat applies to you as well)!!

So the section below is a bit rough, because I haven't edited it yet, but it is also a part that I am SO EXCITED to share.

OKAY HERE YOU GO--An excerpt from Deeply and Immovably So!

“Wasn’t this supposed to be my celebration?” Tav asked, her lips quirking into a smile.

“The piper needs to pay her dues,” Alfira sang.

Tav looked to Rolan. His eyes glowed in the candlelight, flickering as the fire danced across his irises. “Well, shall we give them a show?”

“One for the ages,” she said.

And they did, much to everyone’s delight. If not for the clangor raised by the tavern patrons below, Tav suspected that Lia’s and Cal’s cheers would have given them away.

Tav didn’t realize that Rolan was so familiar with the choreographing for the magic shows that ran every two hours outside of Sorcerous Sundries, but for each time that she cast prestidigitation or minor illusion, he joined her efforts with his own, and the effect was nothing short of magnificent. And she hoped that she managed the same for his spells.

When Tav cast dancing lights, Rolan would use prestidigitation to change their colors. When Rolan created the illusion of an owlbear, Tav cast her own to give the creature a voice.

Tav’s blue butterflies were swept into the air, surrounded by petals and dancing lights. One of them, she couldn’t recall whom, filled the space with the scent of roses. Perhaps it was her, since Cal appeared shocked that prestidigitation could have that effect. They immediately followed that spell up by shooting bolts of ice into the night sky that, with some modification, exploded like fireworks.

And, for their finale, when Rolan lit the sky with a flash of colors, Tav illuminated his spell with starlight.

Over the sounds of their cheering audience, she looked at him, grinning. And, perhaps caught up in that excitement, he smiled back, glowing with delight.

And they held each other’s stare. The light above them illuminated Rolan, silvering his hair and his horns, and the starlight dripped onto his shoulders.

Despite herself, Tav was lost in the moment. Lost in him.

To think that she had never noticed his freckles before, and now, underneath the glow of their magic, she saw them all. Laugh lines curved around his mouth. Suddenly, it was Tav’s mission to deepen those lines. No matter how long it took.

[six-of-cringe]

Something that is sad but also that I hugely appreciate about CK is that by the end, most of the systems that harmed the crows are still in place, but their relationships with themselves have grown and changed. I find this particularly interesting in the cases of Jesper and Wylan (shocking I know). Their identities still put them in danger of being exploited or harmed - Grisha indentures are still the norm in Kerch, and the auction scene made it very clear that if the Council knew Wylan's illiteracy was true, they would treat him much the same as his father did due to the culture surrounding productivity and ability. This might seem disheartening, but the hope lies in the shift in how these characters see themselves and their role in the world. By the end of the book, Jesper and Wylan are beginning to put away their internalized shame surrounding their identities. They may still have to hide who they are from the world to survive, but they're no longer hiding it from themselves - their true selves are no longer this crushing burden they have to turn away from to function. A general theme of the series is how, in accepting who they are and what has happened to them on a personal level, the crows place themselves in positions to make change on a systemic level - Inej and her ship, Nina and her mission, Kaz and his Barrel empire, Wylan and Jesper with their political, high-society empire. None of them are all the way there yet by the end - they're still healing, and both the loss of Matthias and the weight of those oppressive systems are going to weigh on them for a long time - but we get to see the very beginnings of that process. I'm going to bite someone.

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

[autumnfangirler]

I love the parallels between herald and sidestep so much man,, like look at this shit

both of them were taught how to feel and think by the people around them and they resigned themselves to that role, but when it comes to the people they care about they get Angry

I don't even know how to articulate this properly. but please understand that sidestep and herald are both pissed off at the world and refuse to let the other accept what the world is giving them. Both of them have the same anger and defiance, they just express it on vastly different ends of the spectrum

[anantaru]

i miss xiao

cw. touch starved xiao, playing with your clit, teasing and dirty talk, fem! reader

xiao misses you too, even better, he misses how you feel underneath the silhouette of his vigorous shape— and how exactly was he supposed to organize the hunger he felt the second he saw you?

you're even more tasteful than he could recall in his memories.

in the twinkling of an eye, he claims his long-awaited kiss with a rough growl and you both were gone, lost to a hefty hunger of tasting and touching, his erection hard and impatient rubbing against your naked folds.

xiao exhales through his mouth, yet you notice something deviant in his amber brown eyes, prosperously around his irises— something darker? it's strange, but you could see how excited he was for this, how his bitingly hard cock wasn't the first indicator on how much the yaksha had missed your presence.

you wanted to visit him more, or feel him for that matter. have your bare, exposed body be pressed in between the bed and his muscular body as he worships each crevice of your frame.

a soft moan rings from your throat as he slides his length in between your soaked folds, his hips tenderly moving in keeping with the rest of his weight moving closer to your figure before he lets go of a thick globule of spit in his mouth, to experience the raw feeling even more vividly.

xiao breathes, "i-is that good for you? it feels good to me, ugh, you feel so good," while he places his palms on top of your knees to spread you further apart, "i'm going to make you come apart," his lips brush over your own as he talks, his eyes half opened yet consumed in his own fantasies,

"and eat away the nightmares that wronged you,"

even while xiao was close to you like this, in this moment in time it was almost like you didn't hear him talk to you, you just couldn't concentrate on his voice, not when you were so absorbed on the way he dragged along your folds with every grind of his length smearing your arousal on your pussy, his pre cum too, glimmering of clear white on the delicate skin.

xiao takes one hand and pulls his fingers out to give your clit the stimulation it craved for— firstly, collecting some of your slick to massage it into the sensitive bud as you inevitable moan out, your hips frantically thrusting up into the air. he hums his appreciation to your candid reaction, leaning in to nuzzle at your bare throat, never stopping the circles on your clit.

"xiao, please, i wanna feel you already," your hips arch firmly up at his dripping dick skimming in between your puffiness, your limbs and muscles perceiving an immovable wall of raw lust as you're meeting his own aching body. "fuck me, please…"

it was a tempting line of thought, he has to admit, one that made his hefty cock twitch hard against your willing body. but xiao had only now gotten you back.

the man wanted to indulge in this, in you, as well as ignoring the pressures of his shaft aching deeply whenever he rolled his sensual tip over your hole, noticing how it drips filthily with your arousal.

"not yet, you shouldn't be so greedy," he purrs softly at you, his rushing blood quickening as he asserts control over his own choice, as if he needed to manipulate himself into being able to taunt you a while longer, "this is just a taste of what i will give to you later,"

xiao's full lips twitch into a smirk when you nod your head obediently at him, both of your arms lazily dangling on his shoulder.

the yaksha decides to take his hand from your clit before wrapping his palm around his pulsing erection, a low grunt, clearly broken but entirely focused— crumbling from past his plump lips.

he slides his tip up and down your folds before nudging it past the protective flesh that hid away your pearl, listlessly ghosting over the sensitive bud until you're presenting each and every twitch of your body signalizing the lust.

he was there now, toying with your clit, you can feel him, right?

pressed up so tight against your sensual nerves as your hole flutters around air, pump pump pump, it's like you're developing a second heart beat on your sex. your nipples turn hard of lust, your skin revealing in a scorching hot fire when he continues, expertly groping his cock while working his tip on your delicate clit.

preparing you for what's about to come.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 5: CLOTHES ON

joel miller x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.1k words

summary: trapped inside a wardrobe whilst hiding from infected, joel ups the ante of survival.

cw: f!reader, forced proximity, threat to life, mentions of gore, quiet or die kind of vibe, unprotected sex, p in v sex, cream pie, autassassinophilia – arousal in the fear of being killed.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 6: NIPPLE PIERCINGS ⇾

The curve at the base of your skull cracks against the decaying wall of the wardrobe as Joel smothers your startled gasp with his palm. His life-line stifles your heaving, fearful breaths as the croaks and moans of the infected seep beneath the rotten door. Shuffling feet stumble down the corridor, bodies bumping into each other and snarling as they chase the promise of a pulse. Joel forces your eyes to focus on him, silently urging you not to look at the hoard slowly staggering by.

You can make out the image of your horrified expression reflected in his glassy eyes, see the way you shudder and flinch when a body bumps into the door. Joel leans his bodyweight against you, crushing your chest with his own and offers you a stiff shake of his head; a wordless ❝don’t❞. In truth, you don’t need his caution. You wouldn’t dream of it. 

Still, fear continues to coagulate in your gut, the awful stench of the infected creeps between hinges of the wardrobe you had both frantically crammed into in a desperate attempt to avoid the advancing numbers of animated corpses. They weren’t quite like the smell of the rotten carcass of Bill’s friend, Frank, hanging by his neck and emanating a putrid odour that threatened to bring up the rations that you had halved and then halved again – precious calories and nutrients so hard to come by now. No, the infected had a base scent of something similar, but mostly reeked of damp-mould, as though wood had absorbed water and had begun to rot from the inside out. It wasn’t quite retch-inducing, but what they lacked in rancid scent they made up for in threatening numbers and horrifying looks. 

Joel breathes deeply, and the sound wrenches you from your spiralling desire for survival. You watch as his eyes mutate, shift into something much darker. It’s thrilling and horrifying, sets your arm hair on end as you feel him lean forwards, the tip of his nose brushing your temple. 

Stranglers of the hoard of infected runners continue to lumber down the hallway, rasping and snapping at anything that moves– but the chilling sounds are drowned out by the thumping of your pulse in your ears when Joel’s teeth scrape at the curve of your neck. 

“J-Joel,” you squeak, the single syllable barely audible. Fingertips bury into the flesh of your hip, brand your skin with purple, blotchy bruises in warning. He wants you to be silent. An image flashes in your mind's eye; the museum, Joel’s index finger pressed to his lips as the ticking echolocation of a Clicker pulsed through the room. You’d hardly survived then. Tess hadn’t. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you feel your heart leap when he takes the flesh above your pulse-point between his teeth. He bares down on it, tendrils of pain sparking out across the nerves in your neck– enough to mark. A precarious round of Would-I-Lie-To-You when you inevitably stumble upon other survivors who would demand to know where the bite came from. How would you even begin to explain? “Oh, well, me and my partner were chased by a hoard of hundreds of runners into a hotel where we hunkered down in a wardrobe and he decided he wanted to take the chance to fuck me while the runners passed by.” 

Yeah, you wouldn’t believe you either. 

You’d seen Joel before the hospital in Salt Lake. Before he lost Ellie to a lie. Seen the ruthless, immovable survivor who did everything by the book and never once flirted with danger for the sake of a ridiculous thrill– just to feel something. But that was before “I swear.” Before “Okay.” 

The clink of your belt between Joel’s fingertips is the crank of a gun’s hammer pulling back. His own, slow suicide. 

The blunt head of his cock spears your cunt slowly, a shuddering breath buried in the crook of your neck as he sinks into your velvet heat. Thighs crushing his ribs, you rock your head back against the wall of the wardrobe and swallow down the wail that bubbles in your throat. 

Then he’s grasping the backs of your legs, just below the crook of your knees and folds them back against your chest. Joel’s practically folding you in half, exposing your glistening cunt before beginning a pace so devastating that it obliterates the primal fear settled deep within your gut and reinstates a carnal arousal that has you clawing at his shoulders. 

Again, his palm smothers your shrieks before you manage to ring the dinner bell. Joel, however, works in utter silence. Easing back before cracking his hips back into you, the most he offers in return is a soft groan of relief. Perhaps the jolting thrusts of his pelvis had shaken your very being from your body, but you’re almost certain you feel a smirk dance against your pulse. 

Dampness clings to your skin, fear and delight, horror and bliss drawing the perspiration from your pores. Joel loves it– lathes his tongue against your throat to taste the salt of you as he buries his cock deep inside of you. He’s bruising you. 

You try to say his name, but it dies in your throat before you even mouth it. Joel hears it anyway– he always does. Listens to the tremor in your thighs, pays attention to the tightening of your abdomen beneath his palm, takes heed of the strain of your leather boots when your toes curl. He responds likewise, roughly pushing his thumb into the throbbing swell of your clit.

It rocks through you, materialising so quickly there’s no way to halt the faint cry of bliss swallowed by Joel’s palm. He halts his thrusts suddenly, each muscle in his body stalling in fear as you come apart around his fat, throbbing dick. Tears well and stream from your eyes, bleeding into your hairline as you thrash against the seering pleasure. 

“F-Fuck–” Joel chokes quietly in your ear, and suddenly he’s pulsing, painting your pretty pussy with his cum. There’s so much of it, seeping from your folds and streaming down the inside of your thighs as he fucks it into you, face contorting with bliss as he overstimulates himself through his orgasm just to draw out the sensation a little longer. 

When the dust settles, no infected claw at the door. There’s no runners who have heard your cries, silence falling on the corridors of the hotel beyond the hinges of the wardrobe. Instead, an altogether different monster rears its ugly head and sinks its teeth into your flesh. Neither of you will admit it– can admit that the fear of being found, of being torn limb from limb and devoured had been enough to force a mind-shattering orgasm from Joel. No, you can’t admit it, but you can’t forget either. 

The cum leaking from between your legs as you both continue your journey back to Boston makes sure of it. 

pedro pascal/kinktober masterlist:

@xwing-baby , @mybugboy , @pansa-1-san , @pedrosprincess , @cosm1c-babe , @lil-stark , @heart-atttack @crybaby-blue-blog, @ssimelttilgniht @2pacacabra @pauldanosgf @leithatnight @kirsteng42 @dindjarinsmut @s0ftgabby @milly-louise @aynsleywalker @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @uncassettodiricordi @howellatme @mortallyuniquepeach @maviee @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @stvrlights-world @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @girlofchaos @s-u-t @pintsizedsunshine @djarin-dreams @solidly-indulgent @bii-aan-ckaa @casa-boiardi @maelstrom007 @nikisfwn @levi-llama @haunt3dh3art @lundenloves @rentaldarling @cyberpr1m3 @jedi-in-crocs @yunggoblin @spideyman-peter @iaur @cool-iguana @paleidiot

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh

[irisintheafterglow]

volleyball player bf!suguru never lets you drive anywhere. ever.

the silver volleyball charm clinks against the rest of the items swinging tauntingly above your head. it was the charm you bought him while your family was off on vacation, and now you were silently cursing the recipient's stubbornness.

"give me the fucking- what the hell are you doing?" curse him and his unnaturally long limbs. you jab a finger at his torso, colliding with immovable ab muscle; he doesn't even flinch, continuing to hold the keys just out of reach. your arm swings hopelessly back and forth, trying to hook a finger onto the keyring. it'd been about six minutes, you guessed, since you were supposed to leave with suguru to meet satoru and shoko at the restaurant. you could already imagine the melodrama of having satoru be the one to ask for a table for four. "babe, please give me the-"

"nope. get in," he states evenly with the slightest raise of his eyebrows. with one hand, he dangles the keys and opens the passenger side door with the other.

"we're gonna be late."

"you better get your sexy ass in the car, then, my distinguished president." he tries to keep his voice stoic and fails miserably, a smirk sneaking its way onto his face. "i'm driving."

"i said i would drive."

"and who's holding the keys?" you roll your eyes and poke his side again, but his resolve is unwavering. his head tilts toward the open side door again. "c'mon, we gotta go."

"you really don't need to do all of this anymore," you concede before stepping into the vehicle.

"yeah, but i still want to," he replies before shutting the door. his pretty mouth quirks in satisfaction and he arrogantly spins the keys on his finger while he walks around the front of the car, sliding into the driver's seat next to you. his bicep flexes next to your ear as he backs out of the driveway of your apartment complex. when he's on the road, his hand finds your thigh and unconsciously rubs circles on your skin with his thumb. despite the affection, your irritation is obvious.

"you mad at me?"

"not mad," you mutter, "just annoyed."

"that i'm driving?"

"that you insist on driving even though i got my license months ago. it's like... you don't trust me." you shrug and stare back out at the blurry cityscape passing by. he exhales deeply and you hear the tiniest "shit" from beside you. his hand leaves your thigh to drag it over his face guiltily before returning to the wheel.

"you know why i insist on driving you everywhere, right?" you nod. even before he officially became your boyfriend, suguru was asking if you needed a ride to a conference or event after just knowing you for a few weeks. he's always on time, always meets you at the door, always waits on your bedroom floor if you're still getting ready. watching you prepare for a date, he said, was one of his favorite things in the world.

"because you're used to it." your face starts to burn in shame, embarrassment rising at the memory of everyone around you having their license while you just kept failing over and over and over. it was even harder and took much longer to explain why you didn't like driving in the first place, how being behind the wheel was a level of responsibility you still weren't sure how to handle. how pathetic, being the administrative head of all the student activities in your school and yet you still needed your parents to give you a ride. it was the biggest weight on your shoulders, feeling like a burden to everybody else, but suguru was adamant that he didn't mind.

"because i want to do it. i never wanna have you worrying about needing a ride or driving somewhere ever again." his eyes shine in the fading afternoon sun, soft and tender as his voice. "you're too incredible to be worrying about shit like that, so let me take care of it. let me take care of you."

"i love you...more than anything."

"i love you too, babe."

"even though you cart me around everywhere?"

"especially because you let me cart you around everywhere," he winks. i'm gonna marry you someday, geto suguru. "can you let satoru know we're almost there and for him to grab a table if he hasn't already?" you chuckle at his earnestness and he raises an eyebrow in question.

"you have too much faith in him, su." his mouth falls open in exasperation and you have to push his face back to focus on the road.

"he hasn't left yet? we said 6:00!" he huffs, blowing a strand of hair from his forehead only for it to fall back into place. your fingers gently brush it away and tuck it behind his ear.

"he runs on satoru time, what do you expect?"

"whoever let him get behind a wheel needs their sanity checked," he concludes as he pulls into a spot and you're trying to stifle your giggles. "whatever," he sighs in defeat.

"it's okay. just gives you more time to keep showing how much you love me."

driving people is a love language, argue with the wall but anyway hope you enjoyed

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

[hausofneptune]

✾ persona chart series ✾ the moon

[astro notes no. 008]

hey y'all! i've been hyper-fixating on my persona charts for the past two weeks and i thought it'd be fun to make a cute lil astro notes post about it, so here we are! these notes/observations are all relative to the placements in one's moon persona chart, not the natal chart. as always, energy manifests differently for everyone, so if it don't apply, let it fly.

the moon persona chart is representative of how your emotional nature impacts your personality and different areas of your life. it's indicative of your feminine/nocturnal identity, and how that part of you is shaped and expressed, as well as how your domestic life is structured. click here to calculate your persona charts!

༄ moon in taurus can be representative of needing physical/material security in order to feel emotionally fulfilled and stable

↝ this placement can also indicate a persistent or "fixed" nature when it comes to one's emotions, these natives may be immovable in the way that they feel at times

↝ they may also have mothers, maternal figures, or family in their households growing up, that influenced them in some way shape or form to care deeply about being financially stable enough to take care of themselves

༄ uranus in the 1H can show someone who’s very emotionally expressive, and may be perceived as being emotionally unbalanced or erratic at times

↝ this may also indicate that one’s home life (growing up and/or present day) is turbulent or unconventional in some way shape or form

↝ this can also manifest as feeling as though people misinterpret your emotions and the way in which you express them

༄ mercury conjunct venus is indicative of seeking and building connections that feel safe enough for emotional expression and vulnerability

↝ these natives could encounter difficulty in their interpersonal relationships if they repress their true emotions and prioritize “keeping the peace” over honest communication

↝ this can also indicate finding ease in processing emotions and expressing one’s feelings through creative endeavors such as writing or singing

༄ mars in virgo indicates a strong emotional investment in one's devotion to their work or "practical" obligations

↝ this can also manifest as the native habitually overthinking their own feelings, or being doubtful that they can reach their goals, despite their achievements

↝ this would be another placement that ignites a deep need for stability in the native, and can even cause physical ailments if that need is not met (i.e. stomach/bowel issues, anxiety, migraines, etc.)

༄ ascendant trine moon can show up as someone who, through the lens of those around them, is defined by their caring and nurturing qualities

↝ these natives tend to be very empathetic and intuitive, and may express themselves in a way that is influenced by their maternal figures/family. they may also view their homes as an extension of their own personal self-expression.

↝ they're typically innately trusted by those around them, as they tend to have an acceptance of their own emotional nature that in turn extends to those around them

༄ sun opposite saturn can indicate a feeling of constraint surrounding one's emotional expression

↝ this can manifest as someone who may feel overwhelmed by their responsibilities, and can result in a strain between emotional vulnerability and their obligations, these natives may struggle with being too self-critical at times

↝ on the flip side, an evolved manifestation of this aspect can grant the native with a level-head in relation to navigating their emotions, and the ability to be more rational in conflict

༄ jupiter in the 9H manifests as someone who feels deeply connected to their spiritual growth and places emphasis expanding their beliefs

↝ these are the type of people who others may lean on in vulnerable moments, as they're inherently very optimistic and are able to offer reassurance and comfort to those around them

↝ their values are typically derivative of their own personal feelings, and they tend to be very enthusiastic about their beliefs as a result

༄ moon sextile pluto is representative of feeling one's emotions on a deeper level than the average person

↝ this tends to be a very spiritual placement, as these natives are able to recognize the subconscious feelings and needs of those around them due to their intuitive nature

↝ these natives may need to work towards instilling boundaries and keeping their cup full before pouring into others, as they're innate healers and instinctively want to help those that they're connected to

༄ neptune in aquarius indicates someone who seeks to protect and nourish those who are unconventional or whose beliefs and self-expression reject the status quo

↝ these natives may have struggled with feeling like outcasts in youth, as a result are open-minded and accepting to those whose identities are unorthodox in some way shape or form

↝ they tend to find emotional fulfillment through aiding humanitarian causes, and may even excel as social workers, therapists, community organizers, etc.

༄ mercury in scorpio shows someone who is extremely intuitive and emotionally stimulated by exploring the deep, psychological depths of those around them

↝ they seek emotional connections where they're able to bare the deepest parts of their soul with the other person without any judgement or shame

↝ these are the types of people who are deeply dedicated to the things that they believe in, and refuse to let any challenges get in the way between themselves and their passions

disclaimers | masterlist | ask

[nihilnisiluna]

Pitiful

They noticed he was acting out of character again, it can be so weird to see him try and earn their forgiveness. Though, they highly doubt that they would ever forgive him for what he had done. He was immovable as a mountain, strong and could be seen as a protector of Liyue. It's so weird to see him trying to play with kids to make him look meek. Playing with their toys and engaging in their imagination, it was a sight to see.

However, despite what he did, the creator left the scene as quickly as they didn't want to stand next to their murderer.

He craves for forgiveness as he is so full of guilt, but everything he tries is met with an even more disgusted look on his creator's face. Why can't he get them to smile like the others?

They make the creator smile so brightly, it hurts. The ones that have earned the right to stand next to his grace, something he deeply yearns for. To stand tall and proud, as they were the ones that didn't try to hurt the creator when everyone else was trying to hunt to kill them.

They get trinkets made from the creator, whether it was a simple doodle or some arts and crafts. How he yearned for the creator to acknowledge him with a smile and maybe with a gift like that.

He knows it is his punishment, deep down he knows. Yet, he has dreams of the past where the creator had blessed him and used him to their heart's content. He would like to be used like that again. Iit felt like he was loved by his creator even though that was the time where he couldn’t see their face. While he knew that the creator didn't give him his gifts due to the fact they liked him, rather so he can protect someone else. Even if that had irritated him, he would rather take that than the creator avoiding him completely. He knows that there are others that get treated like he does, but even so, he is willing to try to get the creator to look at him with love. 

Despite the looks of disgust he gets from the creator, he continues to try. Last week, he tried to show he was harmless by flying a kite with other adepti. He knew that they favored the yaksha, which would increase their chances to stay. 

He had brought the idea with Xianyun and she agreed, wanting to help the former geo archon and creator to bond. Bring along her apprentice so they can fly kites close to Wangshu Inn so that she may have fun along the way. Though, Xiao was the one to invite the creator and brought it all together.

Desperate for the creator to look at him in a different light and that this silly plan would work. Yet, when they arrived with a plus one with their hands linked together, he was frozen. This wasn't supposed to happen, he didn't even notice how hard he was holding the spindle. Watching from the distance that they had their bright smile as everyone greeted each other, not noticing him yet. 

Making his move, he walked over to their side and held out his spindle. Not realizing that Xianyun was telling him to not engage just yet, he asked the creator with his warmest smile he could give, “would you like to try?”

They released a surprised noise as they backed up onto their partner and he saw their eyes changing as they noticed the situation change. They had slipped and almost fell into their partner. Once they recovered and stood tall, they gave him a reply, “No, Mr. Zhongli. If anything I'll be taking my leave first.”

True to their word, they had left first with their partner, but he just stared as they left. Frustrated that another plan didn't work. He barely notices Xianyun words of comfort or Xiao excusing himself.

He just wants his creator to look at him without disgust, without them trying to leave the second they noticed him.

Though, nothing is working.

[cloudcountry]

the kissing experiment

Genre/Tropes: Practice kissing?

Summary: The Leech brothers request something of you. Won't you help them learn what kissing is?

Author's Comments: hi this is an arospec ace person writing about people kissing. it was a fun little (AWKWARD) experiment so the title also applies to me!!

~~~~~

There was nothing you could think of that would have prompted the Leech brothers to ask this of you. Maybe they found out about your attraction to the both of them, or maybe they were just using you as a silly little plaything to experiment on until they got bored. Maybe it was both. Whatever led them to your dorm this late in the afternoon didn’t matter now, as they were standing right there on your porch, awaiting your response to their proposition like a hunter that had just cornered their prey. A chill went down your spine as they continued to stare, lips stretched into wide grins that couldn’t have looked more sketchy if they tried.

“You...want to experiment with kissing?” you ask, flabbergasted at the unexpected question, “Why in Twisted Wonderland would you ask that? And to me?”

“Come onnnn, Shrimpy. It’s a yes or no question.” Floyd giggles, tongue poking out from between his teeth, “We don’t have all afternoon. you know.”

“Indeed, Floyd is right. It would be a shame if we came all the way here with our humble request only to receive an unsatisfactory answer.” Jade sighs, eyes sharp as his expression fills with mock sadness.

“I never said no.” you mumble, eyes darting to an uninteresting crack in the floorboards to avoid looking at either of them, “I was just asking my own questions.”

“Oh?” Jade hums, index finger pushing your chin upwards until you make eye contact with him again, “I take it that means you’re interested?”

“Maybe I am.” you shoot back, the desperate urge to catch them off guard after coming to you with this ridiculous proposal flaring up.

It works. Floyd cackles beside his brother, eyes narrowing as he stalks closer. Jade looks surprised for a brief moment before chuckling politely, letting you go with a gentle brush of his thumb against your cheek.

“Well Little Pearl, it’s only natural to seek out the object of one’s curiosity, is it not?” Jade coos in a voice as soft as a fuzzy, comforting blanket, “We only want a bit of your time. Won’t you offer us the pleasure of practicing land dwelling affection?”

“Yeah Shrimpy! Don't be mean.” Floyd snickers, shoving his face closer to yours and his brother out of the way in the process.

“Besides...we know you’re interested.” Jade chuckles, taking your hand as if it was made of glass, “We’ve seen the glances you send our way. We’ve seen you staring at the Lounge. You’re hardly sneaky, Little Pearl.”

“And that’s why Shrimpy got caaaught!” Floyd laughs, nuzzling your cheek as his arms snaked around your waist.

“So what do you say?” Jade leans closer, thumb stroking the back of your hand.

“There’s no need to guilt trip.” you lean back, the proximity of the Leech brothers almost suffocating, “You already know my answer.”

“Oh, but we don’t. You could turn us away and break our little hearts!” Floyd quips, pulling away from you just to cross his arms and pout.

Finally free of Floyd’s grip, you back up a bit. They allow you a bit of space, but still stand tall on your front porch, an immovable wall. Shaking your head, you sigh deeply. It’s almost exhausting when they decide to play these games, teasing you as if they aren’t painfully aware of your interest in them.

“If it’s kissing you want, it’s kissing you’ll get.” you say, beckoning Floyd closer.

He bounces right over, looking like a puppy about to receive a treat. You cup his face gently with your hands, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead. The touch lingers for a few beats as the tension from Floyd’s shoulder melts away, his wound up attitude ebbing away like the tides of the Coral Sea. The second you pull away his wide eyes crinkle at the corners, all of the excited energy he had before rushing back into his body.

“I got a kiss from Shrimpy!” Floyd cackles, brushing the spot you kissed with his gloved fingers. His sharp teeth are on display as he sticks his tongue out at Jade, wrapping his other arm tightly around your waist again.

“Floyd, be nice.” you sigh, coaxing Jade closer by opening your arms, “Jade, c’mere.”

“Oh? Feeling bold, are we?” Jade coos, swooping into your arms without hesitation.

Instead of answering, you hook your finger under his tie and pull him closer. His body thumps against yours, and if it weren’t for the grip Floyd had on your waist, you’re sure you would have fallen over. Jade looks surprised at how quickly you’d yanked him, and you tried not to let his shock make you too smug. They were known to turn things on people just when they had the advantage (and you knew that better than most people.)

“Can I kiss you here?” you ask, swiping a thumb across his bottom lip.

“By all means.” Jade sighs, leaning into your touch.

You slot your lips against his almost immediately, grabbing Jade’s shoulder with your free hand. His hands find their place on your waist, and he kisses you back with a force that’s powerful, yet gentle. You can vaguely hear Floyd whining beside you, his incessant tugging on your shirt doing nothing to dispel the haze you find yourself in. Jade’s lips are soft—softer than the gentle beams of sunlight caressing your face as the day slips into darkness.

He’s warmer than them, too.

With a shuddering gasp, the two of you part. Eyes wide and lips plump from the kiss, you slowly let your finger slip away from his tie. Jade chuckles at your state, lifting your hand to his lips, and you can do nothing but watch as he presses his lips to the skin while staring holes into you.

“Thank you for that experience, Little Pearl.” he murmurs, kiss-bruised lips still brushing delicately against your skin, “It was most delightful.”

“Heyyy, Shrimpy! I said, don’t forget about me!” Floyd huffs, yanking you more and more insistently towards him, “I want another kiss!”

“If Floyd gets another, I would appreciate another one as well.” Jade smiles, tilting his head as you turn your attention to his brother.

“Yes, yes, sure.” you say, attempting to placate them.

Except it doesn’t work entirely, because Floyd is still grumbling and tugging. You would rather not have him tumble into a bad mood, so you turn to him and yank him into you by the undone tie, just like you did with his brother.

Floyd is far more all consuming, his teeth clinking painfully against yours. You wince but he doesn’t get softer, instead opting to giggle and press his hands into your waist. With the way he holds you and kisses you longer and longer and longer, you’d almost think he was jealous of Jade for taking so much time with you. The thought makes you want to roll your eyes, but you’re unable to spend much more time in your own head as his nails dig into your side and you’re thrown back into reality. That reality being that one of his hands has found its way to your hair, his nails scratching the back of hand in just the right way and for once you actually find yourself relaxing. It’s a beautiful juxtaposition that leaves you smiling against Floyd’s chapped lips.

You pull away with a soft pat on his shoulder and a smile. He smiles back, tongue poking out from between the rows of sharp teeth, but for once you aren’t on edge. Floyd looks so excited, his expression reminding you of the look he has when he dances.

“That was nice, Shrimpy.” Floyd laughs, running his tongue along his teeth, “Gimme another one.”

“Patience, Floyd.” Jade murmurs, whisking you away from his brother, “It’s my turn.”

“No fair! But I want another kiss!” Floyd pouts, reaching to snatch you away.

You sigh, shaking your head at the sibling rivalry unfolding around you.

Oh dear, what have you done?

[multi-fandom-imagine]

«Love Me Harder || King Rauru ||

Warning1: Monster fucking { Zonai x Hylian!Reader }here so if you don’t like that then please scroll on by.

Warnings 2: P in V, Knotting, biting / marking, cream pie, a little rough fucking, Rauru has quite a mouth on him, squirting.

A/n: I apologize if this sucks 😩, it’s 2am.

It felt like it’s been ages since you’ve been with your King, and with the matter with Ganon dealt with everyone was celebrating. Your hand grasping your husbands as you pulled him towards the bed room.

A snort left his lips the moment you were out of sight and it seemed your husband had other plans on where he wanted you. A light shiver running running down your spine already imagining his cock pumping into your pussy, you were preset wet he wouldn’t even need to get your ready.

“This is always my second favorite bit.” Rauru murmured against your neck aligning his blunter cock against your dripping entrance.

Feeling your cheeks grow warm you adverted your gaze for a moment, to curious for your own good. You couldn’t help but ask. “W…what is your favorite?”

“Why, it’s watching my Queen lose their fucking mind.”

A cry slipped passed his lips, his hand muffling the the sound of your voice as his cock slid into your warmth. Your eyes squeezing shut as your nails dug into his shoulders, feeling the soft fur. You’re never quite prepared enough not go almost cum the moment he slips inside of you. Your lower back now lifted from the wall.

“Such a good.” Pressing his snort to your neck you were finally able to find your voice. A cry that communicates your needs in a better fashion that you could ever put into words, you cum for the first time just feeling you love slowly slide deeper inside of you. His claws digging into your plump ass as he pressed you against the wall. Chuckling deeply, Rauru sunk his fangs into your neck, sucking at the skin enough to leave a mark. “I think my Queen is enjoying this.”

It was hard not to miss the look on your husbands face as he held your waist with a single hand. “Do not worry my sunshine. You will be happy in the end.”

Closing your eye, you tried to keep your thoughts coherent but it was like he knew what you were thinking. Perhaps it was written on your face right now, you could see it on his even though it was subdued. Every time your spasming cunt squeezes down on him, you can see and feel him pause momentarily, grunting in pleasure, holding back the urge to ravage your cunt.

Rauru always enjoyed teasing you, on his first outstroke you can’t help but groan deeply arching your back off the wall as the pleasure washed over you. The texture of his cock just rubs you in the most amazing way and with how you’re so fucking tightly wrapped around him that it’s impossible not to have the entire inside of your pussy stimulated every time he with draws and pushes in.

He always manages to steal your breath away as he knows it too. With a firm hand on your waist to keep you in place while he continues to pump into you, it does not take more than three strokes for you to come again, your hips bucking into his immovable grip as you cried out his name not caring who might hear as your eyes squeezed shut in the throes of passion as you felt your King quicken the pace.

You scream. You can’t help but cry out his name, your dress was now in tattered around your shapely hips as your legs were raised higher as he thrusted himself balls deep inside of you, feeling him gore harder as he pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.

Plunging inside your wet pussy, the Zonai brings you to another thundering orgasm, light dancing in front of your eyes as you shudder and buck against him. You did your best to keep your legs wrapped around his waist as your back stayed pressed against the wall letting the tidal waves of ecstasy wash over you with every single thrust.

His free hand reaching up to grasp your breast, massaging the nipple with one of his talons and finally after what feels like hours of having him between your legs you sense he is close to cumming, something you are far to used too.

It is the way he grunts deeply, the measures rolling of his powerful hips giving way to desperate savage thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoing across the castle walls. The closer he gets to his own orgasm the more of a beast he becomes, his speed increasing until you are loudly screaming his name, shaking in his grip.

When Rauru finally cums, both of you give long, loud groans of desperate relief as his thick hot cum begins to gush into your pussy, his knott swelling. A slight soreness hits you and er everything feels so incredibly good. Panting and moaning you slumped against your King, your face nuzzling into his neck as you did your best to catch your breath. “That…was fucking amazing.”

Snorting, Rauru gave the mark on your neck a small lick followed by a kiss to your temple. “It was worth the wait.”

Sighing, you could easily fall asleep like this but knowing Rauru and how long you both waited sleep was going to be for sometime.

“Are you ready for round two Sunlight?”

“Of course I am.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

Don't Move (3 of 4)

John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, established relationship, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), restraints, overstimulation

Word Count: 619

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Every time you try to get away, Soap makes you suffer a bit more.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // don't move masterlist

“John. Please. I—can’t. I—”

“Stop wiggling. Making it worse for yourself.”

Your heels dig into the bed beneath you as John slowly pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy. You’re overstimulated. Completely wired. And John won’t quit. He won’t stop. He is drawing you closer into insanity, stealing your breath from your lungs to consume for himself.

The pad of his thumb rubs circles against your clit, sending sharp coils of pleasure up your spine. Your back arches off the bed, and your hand shoots out to grasp his wrist as you try to separate his hand and your body.

John tuts, and slowly pries your fingers one by one from around his wrist. “Try moving my hand again and see what happens.”

“You’re awful,” you moan as he slides a second finger inside you.

“You don’t mean it,” he murmurs before lightly biting the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

You grin, and then immediately groan as John returns to his previous pace. Other than the noises you make is the lewd sound of John’s fingers pumping in and out of you. The small break did nothing to stifling the returning pleasure. It’s too much, and you’re hardly hanging on.

John kisses his way down your thigh, removing his thumb from your clit only to replace it with his mouth. He sucks on it, and you lose all control, clawing at his arms, sliding yourself away from him on the bed.

John draws away as you drag yourself to the middle of the bed, chest heaving, a few beads of sweat rolling down the back of your neck. Up on your elbows with eyelids fluttering, you don’t notice John until it’s too late.

With one hand, John expertly wraps your wrists up in his belt, tying it off so you can’t escape. You open your mouth, a snarky response forming on your tongue, but John is shaking his head, a mischievous grin on his face.

“I warned you,” he says, shrugging.

Sliding his arms under your bent knees, John tugs you down the bed, tossing each of your legs over a shoulder. He bends at the elbows, and creates an anchor with his forearms. Your lower half is immovable. There is nowhere for you to go, and no opportunity to wiggle away from him.

“Leave me to my meal,” he smirks before places his mouth against your pussy.

You cry out, back arching, but that only pushes you harder against his mouth. John is relentless and unforgiving in the way his tongue slides in and over you. He feasts like a man starved, and you are hopeless to stop him.

The orgasm is immediate and sharp. A hot blade of iron that scorches your skin. With your hands bound, there is no opportunity to grab at him or push him away. The only mercy you have is what John is willing to give you.

Another pass of his tongue over your clit draws tears to your eyes. You’re choking. Begging. Pleading with John as he tongues and then sucks on your clit. The orgasm is unending. It is bright and bold and bountiful.

Even when John unfurls himself from your legs, you hardly notice. You’re a shaking, whimpering mess and it isn’t until his lips run over your thighs, hips, and stomach that you notice John’s new gentleness. They are soft kisses, and he cradles your face with both hands.

“Gonna listen to me when I give you a warning?”

You nod, lips parting as you inhale deeply.

“That’s my good girl,” he coos, releasing your hands from their confinement.

He kisses the insides of your wrists and brings them down to the bed.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf

[honeyshiddendesire]

Pet Name Headcanon List

Doflamingo x female reader- Love

Warnings: fingering, vaginal penetration, pussy eating, reader tied up, misuse of DF powers, dirty talk/degradation, dacryphilia (crying kink), overstimulation

*banner*

“Awe what’s the matter love~” Doffy taunted your immovable form, arms bound above your head in his spider webs, legs spread wide for his long slender fingers to curl inside you despite your overstimulation. Your face was wet and hot with tears, you can’t even recall how long you’ve been like this with him pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you, legs trembling against his dangerous web. It was all a part of his game for you to beg him for mercy but you couldn’t decide what you wanted at this point. The pain edged into pleasure and his words only grew softer as your face grew wetter. “Answer me love…do you want more or mercy~?” 

It was a simple question but Doflamingo wasn’t a simple man and only moved his fingers faster in your spongy soaked cunt waiting for your answer. Your body shook like a leaf in the wind, not realizing he loosened the webs on you to avoid slicing into your precious skin that he loved, as if he’d even admit it to himself. Your eyes rolled back and body bowed toward him, breast on display for his eyes to feast, and before you could think of an answer your pussy did it for you. 

“Doffy!” You screamed loudly and Doflamingo never let up his relentless pace on your juicy pussy, even leaning down to use his long tongue to circle at your aching clit. More tears springing to your eyes that only made him chuckle deeply, “Oh love~ you should know better than to make me wait for anything including your own pleasure.” 

“Doffy p-please~” You couldn’t tell what you were asking for and he only grinned wickedly as he turned his head to bite at your thigh before sucking a mark into it. “Always such a crybaby aren’t you, love.” It wasn’t a question but a fact as he sucked marks on your thighs that were spread open for him like a gift. Doflamingo was many things, a king, deranged, a monster to most but not many knew him as a lover. 

“So pathetic love. You can’t even decide what you want, but don’t worry I’ll make the choices for you.” Doflamingo wasn’t a sweet lover by any means though in fact he was torturous in the way he sucked and fingered your sensitive cunt. 

Using your satisfaction almost like it was an energy source, taking your pleasure like it was something that fueled his days and when he was done he’d leave you for his duties. Spent and laid out on the bed shaking and trembling with not an ounce of remorse as he grinned tauntingly down at your heaving form now unbound. “I have business to attend to, not that you’ll be able to move until I come back.” His laugh made you shiver and he only grinned wider. “Still no words yet? Good, that means I did my job.” 

You barely registered him leaving but heard the faint words that lulled you to dreamland before the bedroom door shut, “Sleep love.”

[nolita-fairytale]

try a little tenderness | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader one shot

summary: on the anniversary of mikey's death, you help carmy find a way to grieve. (set in the make my heart surrender universe, but can be read as a standalone piece)

warnings: swearing, grief, mild angst, mentions of death & suicide, second person pov, no use of y/n

wc: 2.3k

a/n: i wrote this as a way to process my own grief over the loss of a close friend to suicide. i fell so deeply in love with 'the bear' because i saw myself in so many of these characters: how they responded to losing mikey, the nature of the loss, and the ways they fought their grief. i see so much of myself in carmy in the show and this ended up being really cathartic to write, even though it's been three years now. anyways, heavy shit ahead so don't feel obligated to read but thank you if you do.

(banner made by @allthefandomstogether)

Grief is a funny thing. 

For Carmy, most days it’s something easy to ignore – like an old friend that he’s managed to cut out of his day to day. He’s stopped calling, stopped picking up the phone, eliminated any and all thought about this thing that feels so foreign yet, so familiar at the same time. 

But now he has you – and he’s never been able to bullshit you for shit. Some days, he feels like you see right through him. He knows he’s been irritable, short, impatient at the restaurant (and sometimes at home too). It’s something you handle better than he expected – better than he thinks he deserves. 

“Honey, can we take a pause from this conversation? I just don’t think either of us are in the right headspace,” you’d asked him the other day when he’d tried to pick a fight with you. Completely caught off guard, Carmy had stared at you blankly in response, as if you’d suggested you both run naked down the street.

“If you wanna fight, we can fight. I just… don’t think this is what you’re upset about,” you’d explained, before slipping into the bedroom with the book you were halfway through. 

And today, after he’d tried to pick another fight with you, you’d stopped him again, like a tornado hitting an immovable wall. 

“Carmy, I’m not going to fight you about the dishes,” you’d sighed, shooting him a sympathetic look. “I’m gonna take a walk and pick some things up at the store for dinner. Is that still something you’d like to do?”

How could he forget when he’d been making his brother’s family recipe earlier that day, setting the braciole-filled dutch oven in the fridge to be put into the oven for later? But he almost has – another symptom of how checked out he’s been all week. 

He’s not used to this. He’s used to his siblings – his mom – picking fights over the smallest things that usually escalated into a screaming match. And while you were willing to fight over things that felt worthy to go to bat for, always quick to call him out when he’s being a dick, you don’t engage in his smaller, more frivolous attempts at starting something over the smallest, nitpicky things. 

It’s a whole new pattern for him, and he’ll admit, it’s harder than you make it look. 

Earlier in the week, he knew he’d been in a trash mood. Then he looked at the calendar and saw what date was coming:

2/22/23. 

Oh. 

No wonder he’s been such an ass. 

And now wonder you’ve been such a saint.  

“Oh, um…” he stammers, as he realizes his memory has failed him again. “Uh… yeah, we can still do that.”

He’d forgotten you’d made plans for dinner in preparation for today, and truthfully, he’d been so absent-minded all week that he’s forgotten – forgotten about the plan, forgotten about what day it was, forgotten that that day was now today. Thankfully, you’d had the sense to make sure he was off that day, coordinating with the staff of The Bear to make it happen. While you knew everyone would be grieving today, you weren’t interested in a repeat of last year when the both of you were still in New York.

Sydney, the real hero of this story, had moved mountains to get everyone’s schedules nailed down for this week – knowing it’d be a hard week for everyone that knew and loved Mikey. 

“No, we do not need a repeat of last year,” Sydney had agreed, as you’d explained to her the shit show that was Carmy going into work that night, one year ago. “Don’t worry. I’ll run the kitchen. Tap as many newer staff as I can to work too.”

With the recent press about The Bear (not to mention Sydney’s official James Beard finalist status) there’d been a huge increase in applicants lately. You couldn’t thank Syd enough. 

“Okay. I love you, Carm. I’ll be back in a bit,” you reassure, before grabbing his keys and your coat.

“Yeah,” he mutters quietly, as he watches you go. 

*

After lighting up a few in the apartment, he lays down on the couch, turning on something mind-numbing to not pay attention to on the TV. He’s not sure when or how long it takes him to drift off to sleep, but one minute he’s blinking his eyes closed, and the next he can hear the sounds of pots and pans clamoring around the kitchen. 

He feels guilty: guilty for being an ass, guilty for trying to start something, guilty about what Mikey did.

You’ve told him time and time again: “I don’t think it’s fair to yourself to carry this much blame, Bear.” While normally, he’d love the way his familial nickname sounded coming from you, he’d winced at the mention – just because today, it hits a little too close to home. 

He knows it’s not fair to himself – or to you – but it’s something he’s just not ready to let go of yet. 

He can smell the braciole he’d prepared earlier that day; you’ve already put it in the oven, letting it braise slowly like it was meant to be. He recalled the conversation you both had had about this a few weeks ago. 

“Let’s make a meal he’d like,” you’d proposed, wanting to be a supportive 

“The braciole. Or maybe his spaghetti,” he’d suggested, so matter-of-factly that you could tell he was trying to mask his emotions.

“Maybe both?” you’d countered him. 

“Yeah,” he‘d agreed, quick to put himself out of the discomfort the conversation was causing him. 

“How do you feel about maybe asking some of the others to stop by, Only if they want. Only if you’re up for it,” you’d continued, cautiously. 

“Can I let you know?” he’d asked. 

“Sure,” you’d agreed, even though you knew he wouldn’t be bringing it up again. 

As Carmy sits up from the couch, his mind drifting back to the present, he sees you posted up in front of his little apartment’s stove top, working on his brother’s spaghetti sauce. Pangs of guilt fill his chest, and he feels like absolute garbage for being a dick earlier. He can’t picture doing anything else tonight and he’s glad you had the foresight to do this. Carmy rubs the sleep out of his eyes, watching you move around the kitchen. You’ve got a window open just in case that tricky little smoke alarm goes off while you’re steeping the garlic in olive oil. 

You’re busy trying to maneuver the largest saute pan Carmy owns over the burner for maximum heat exposure when he approaches. The sun’s already set, and the heat from the kitchen leaves a fog on the windows right near the stove, as you shake the saute pan by its handle. 

“Hey,” Carmy says, his voice rough with sleep. 

“Hey,” you reply, a soft smile on your lips as you turn to him. “Sleep alright?”

His unruly curls seem exceptionally messy this evening, and you can smell the remnants of the cigarettes he smoked while you were out. You hate how sexy you still find the nasty habit, even though you’ve tried your best to get him to cut back, citing lung cancer as a top reason. As much as you hate to admit it, you’re eager to taste the cigarettes on his lips, wiping your hands on your jeans because, unlike Carmy, you could care less to wear an apron at home. Framing his face with both of your hands, you place a gentle kiss on his lips, breathing him in as he kisses you back. 

“Sorry I was an ass earlier,” Carmy says, in between kisses. 

“Thanks. You’re kind of allowed to be an ass today though,” you say back. 

He can’t believe you’re letting him off the hook this easily. 

“And what about tomorrow?” he asks, taking a more playful approach this time. 

“No, definitely not. Cut off. Ass privileges? Revoked,” you’re quick to banter back, earning a dry laugh from your boyfriend. 

As you return to your post in front of the stove, Carmy slaps your butt playfully from your earlier comment, eliciting a giggle from you as he does it. He watches you work, adding salt to the tomato, onion, and butter you’re reducing in the saute pan, while the saucepan-filled olive oil/garlic/basil mixture comes up to a simmer. 

“I know you’ve always said that Mikey’s pasta was over-sauced and under seasoned… but it sounds like he just needed a little extra salt and a few little tweaks here and there,” you continue, tasting the tomato sauce. 

He’s not ready to taste the sauce just yet, even though he’d suggested you make the spaghetti in the first place. He watches as you use a spoon to check for salt levels, tasting the sauce first. You throw your head back as the salty tomato mixture hits your tongue. Carmy watches you carefully as you remove the sprig of basil with a pair of tongs, tossing it into a deli container for the trash later. Placing the deli container on the counter next to the rest of things you need to dispose of, his eyes linger on the 28 oz San Marzanos. 

Because the small ones taste better…. 

You busy yourself with straining the oil, setting it aside to add to the sauce towards the end of the process. Carmy checks his phone briefly, seeing a few texts from Richie, Syd, and Tina – all just checking in. 

“Silly question, I know. But how are you doing?” you ask him, having found a good stopping point. 

Carmy thinks about it for a second. He’s not sure how he wants to answer – how he’s supposed to answer this question. 

“I’m… I don’t know,” he managed to get out. 

You nod in acceptance, before replying with an empathetic, “That makes sense.”

“It doesn’t feel real, I guess?” he admits, taking his time as the words fall out of his mouth. 

“I can only imagine, Carm,” you sympathize. “Wanna help me out?”

“Yeah,” he replies, a half smile on his face. 

You’re so kind, so understanding, so empathetic, and he can’t picture spending this day with anyone but you. He thinks back to last year – when he got the news. It was the worst day of his life and regardless of that fact, you’d been there: caring enough to show up, to fight with him, to make sure he ate something. And then that night… the night you crossed the line, slept together even though both of you knew it was a bad idea, that there was no way you could start something real. 

He’s not sure how you got from there to here, but he thanks his lucky stars for whatever good deed he’s done in a past life that’s led to it. 

“Thank you for this,” he says intentionally, making sure you hear him as he continues with, in reference to earlier, “... and I love you too.”

You don’t expect anything from him, and he’s grateful, because he’s not sure he has anything to give. Not today. 

You give him the softest smile, something that makes him want to melt right there and then when you reply with:

“You don’t need to thank me.”

You step aside, making space for Carmy as you give him a task to do to help with dinner. You made the executive decision not to scale Michael’s recipes down, making them as written – family style. If anything, you hope to bring some of the leftovers, sharing his food in honor of his life. You wish you could’ve met Mikey, and since you didn’t get to, making his food feels like the best way to get to know the man Carmy loved and admired so much. 

You queue up a good playlist, working in perfect harmony with Carmy till dinner is ready to eat. Between the braciole and the spaghetti, you know you’ll have more than enough leftovers to feed the two of you for the next week. You let Carmy plate – something he’s truly exceptional at – watching him as he creates a perfect twirl of spaghetti before tearing a few pieces of basil for garnish. As you bring the spaghetti to Carmy’s small dining table that is only meant to seat two, he plates up the braciole on one plate for the both of you to share. You set the table, enjoying the sounds of the playlist you’ve set for the night, before sitting down to eat. 

Carmy takes his first bite of the spaghetti, knowing that it’s not going to be an easy thing for him. You watch closely as he tastes the sauce, his eyes closing and face turning a darker shade redder. 

You wait a beat, letting him settle in before asking:

“What do you think?” 

He nods his head, “It’s fire.” You can see that he’s holding back tears, not ready to lose all control just yet. “It’s actually better… than Mikey’s”

You eat your dinner quietly. It’s the good kind of quiet but the air feels heavy. Carmy may not always have the words for what he’s feeling, but he doesn’t need to right now. You try the braciole together, sharing one plate as he tells you about how Mikey refused to use raisins, even though that’s how they grew up eating the beef dish. You listen, letting him travel down memory lane, only as far as he’d like tog. 

Halfway through dinner, Carmy says something that surprises you:

“We’ve got more than enough leftovers to feed a large family of… twenty,” he states plainly. His blue eyes water as he continues with an ask. “You uh… maybe wanna pack this up and take it to the restaurant tonight?”

“Yeah, Bear. I think everyone would love that," you agree, the smallest smile on your lips. "Would you... wanna tell me a little about him? On our walk there?"

Carmy nods, "Sure. Yeah, I-. I think I can do that."

*

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[five-rivers]

timer

@echoghost1 @everfascinated

.

It hovered over the surface of the portal, clearly separate from it.  A large, flat, disk shape, with a pale, luminous face.  More vivid numbers circled the edge, painted neatly.  A single, delicate, metal hand pointed towards the number seven, on the left side of the clock.  It had been pointing there for the past hour or so, ever since it had been noticed.  

Maddie drummed her fingers on the workbench she stood next to.  The timer - because what else could it be? - was, thus far, a mystery to her.  Usually, Maddie liked mysteries.  Exploring the mysteries of the Ghost Zone had been the reason they had built the portal in the first place.  This mystery was fascinating, and Maddie was excited about it, but it was also incredibly troubling.  

Obviously, the timer - hovering, green, immovable - was ghostly in origin.  What else could it be?  But how did a ghost place get in here to place it?  For what purpose?  How much time was left?  What was it counting down to?  It couldn’t be anything good.  Ghosts had no love for her family or their works.  

As soon as she’d noticed it, she and Jack had started taking readings, but nothing they did gave them anything conclusive, or any way to get rid of the thing.  

It was frustrating and troubling.  Frustrating and troubling.  

“Uh, Mom?  Dad?  It’s six and we were wondering if you wanted us to order dinner or anything…”

Maddie looked up to see Danny coming down the stairs.  

“Oh, sure!” said Jack.  “Pizza sounds great, son!”

“Yeah.  What are you even– What’s that?”  

Danny stared wide-eyed at the timer for a long moment, and Maddie moved to reassure him.  Danny was always so timid around ghosts, so afraid.  This timer was doubtlessly malevolent, but she and Jack wouldn’t let it do anything to Danny.  

Briefly, Danny’s eyes gleamed green.  Then, slowly, but inevitably, he collapsed.

Maddie leaped forward, keeping Danny from hitting his head on the bottom step by the narrowest of margins.  “Jack!”  

“What happened?” he asked, hurrying over.  “Danny?  Danny?  Talk to me, son!  Can you hear me?”

Danny’s eyes fluttered open briefly, overly reflective, then shut again.

“I’m setting up the quarantine booth,” said Maddie.  “Will you carry him?”

Jack nodded, grimly.  

They’d gotten the quarantine booth set up after Vlad’s unfortunate recurrence of ecto-acne and the revelation that ecto-acne could be contagious under certain circumstances.  It was sealed, filtered, protected, shielded.  Every precaution they could think of had gone into it. 

… and, yes, they should use those precautions more often, but Maddie and Jack loved getting up close and personal with the subjects of study.  

“We need to get that thing shielded,” said Jack as he set Danny on the bed.  He rushed out towards the timer and started setting up shield projectors around the portal.  

Maddie, meanwhile, pulled the medical scanner free from the ceiling.  Well, ‘medical scanner’ was a very sci-fi way of putting it, when really it was quite prosaic, if you knew how it worked.

She positioned it over Danny’s body and set it to taking data. 

Temperature, low, heart rate, low, bones, intact, nervous system… that part of the scanner didn’t work all that well, ignore that reading…  

Ectoplasm levels were off the charts.  

Maddie inhaled deeply.  Stay calm, stay calm.  They would fix this.  They’d cured Vlad and Danny’s friends, they could cure this, whatever it was.  They would get rid of that timer and they’d save Danny.  

“Mom?” said Danny, weakly.  

“Hey, sweetie,” said Maddie.  “How are you feeling?”  

“Bad,” said Danny.  He tried to sit up, but Maddie pushed him back down.  “What’s happening?”

“You collapsed suddenly,” said Maddie.  “We’re trying to figure out why.”

Danny raised one hand to his face.  Green light reflected off his hand.  Understanding flicked over his features.  

“Okay, but I think I’m feeling better, now,” he said.  He tried to sit up again.  

“We need to figure out what happened before you go running around,” said Maddie, pushing him down again.  She looked over at Jack, through the thick, transparent sides of the quarantine booth.  Jack was now trying to throw a towel over the timer and–

Wait a moment.  

“Stay down,” she told Danny.  “Let the scanner do its job.”  She walked out of the quarantine booth.  “Wait, Jack, wait.”

“But we have to keep it from affecting Danny.  We don’t know if its effect is visual or what.”

“I know, I know,” said Maddie.  “But look at it.  Look at the hand.”

The hand, which had been pointing at the number seven, was now pointing at the number six.  

Jack scowled at the timer and tried to throw the towel over it again.  The towel passed through it.  “Are we sure this is a timer, Mads?  Maybe the numbers are counting down charges or something like that.”

“I don’t know, it still looks more like a timer to me.”

“But why did it affect Danny like that?” 

“I don’t know.  We need to start decontamination procedures right away, though.  His ectoplasm levels are off the charts.  The sudden spike is probably what made him collapse, but I don’t know how this could have increased his ectoplasm levels so much so quickly.”

I don’t know either,” said Jack.  He picked up the latest version of the Fenton Finder (which incidentally, still detected Danny more often than not) and shook it.  “None of the detectors we have pointed at it picked up anything.  Nothing going towards Danny, nothing ambient, nothing anywhere else.”

Maddie had hoped that their detectors had picked something up, but with the continued failures of the Fenton Finder, maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised.  

“We’ll keep looking,” said Maddie.  She was forgetting something.  What was she forgetting?  “Jazz.  We need to tell Jazz, so she doesn’t come down here.  What if it only affects minors?”

“Righto,” said Jack, shoving the Finder at Maddie.  “I’ll do that, you start the decontam procedures!”

Maddie nodded tightly and turned back to Danny.  She could see his eyes gleaming from here.But they could fix this.