#host keeps wanting us to watch it to understand it

[zorange13]

— love island, enhypen edition: for jake, xoxo (teaser)

this is a teaser of jake’s story in my love island, enhypen edition “series.” (ig lmao??) so i highly suggest you read that first to get an understanding of what’s happening here!

wc. tba. (1.5k for this teaser)

release date. also tba... (but here's sumn to keep y'all fed for a minute!)

pairing. islander! jake sim x reader

author’s note (please read): i just made up names for the girls (aside from y/n ofc) i’m sorry, i just really didn’t want to use “[member’s girl]” because that would be annoying to keep doing. but of course, you’re free to imagine them as you like.

— Two months later

Since the reunion, things have been great. Steady, yet invigorating and every single day has been something new. Fortunately, your brand has grown exponentially and you’d been collaborating with companies and brands you had never imagined. 

You were an ambassador for one of your favorite skincare brands, Topicals. Attending women’s panels, Alo and Aritzia have been dressing you. Encouraging people to take part in positive causes around the world and communities. With the platform you gained, you truly did want to use it for good.

Very quickly did you become a princess and so beloved by the Love Island fanbase alongside other people that didn’t even watch the show. 

You were comfortable and slowly but surely things were easing up. You did have to filter your comments to fully let go of any and all mentions of your prior connection with you know who. It just got so irritating having people constantly mention such a traumatic moment in your life. Imagine you post something about your workout routine and someone still finds a way to make it about the person that did you wrong.

Nonetheless, you were coasting through life and you haven’t heard from thou who shall not be named. 

But speaking of that!

Jake has sort of disappeared off the face of the earth. 

His socials have had very minimal activity, not so much to make one worry. But whenever he did post, it would be travel posts or fun little stuff. Nothing too insane but he’s done a good job at staying out of the way because that’s the best thing he could’ve done for himself. 

His comments still had you all over them, he didn’t have to heart to filter them. He loved your name. Fuck, he loved to see your name and in some way, he felt that he deserved to constantly be reminded of his wrongdoings. Jake felt he deserved punishment and part of it was ensuring he had a reminder. 

He followed you, you didn’t follow him back but he kept up with you consistently and was heavy in your likes. And of course fans noticed. They always did.

But this fateful day, you were hanging out with Nina and Amani at Amani’s apartment, legs curled under you on the couch as a candle flickered in the center of the coffee table. You were scrolling on your phone halfheartedly when Nina suddenly gasped, nearly knocking her smoothie over.

“Oh my gosh. Oh my—dude what the fuck.”

Your head whipped around. “What?”

Amani leaned over her shoulder. “What is it?”

Nina looked up slowly, eyes wide with disbelief and a dangerous glint of amusement. “Jake. On a podcast. Talking about you.”

You blinked. “You’re joking.”

“No,” she said, spinning the screen to face you. And there it was—Jake’s face in a thumbnail for The Soul Tied Podcast, a popular show known for dragging Love Island alumni into messy little therapy sessions disguised as interviews. It had been posted three hours ago and was already trending. The caption?

“I’d do anything for her.”

— Jake, on his Love Island regret

You swallowed. Your throat suddenly dries. Amani was already clicking play.

The video cut to a dimly lit studio, Jake sitting across from the host with his leg bouncing like he wanted to run out the room. But it was the look in his eyes that made your chest feel tight. Soft. Vulnerable. Real.

The host leaned in, elbows on the table. “So if you could fix anything or take anything back during your experience, what would it be?”

Jake exhaled slowly, like the words weighed too much. Then, simply: “I’d say that…I’m sorry again. That I wish I can make things right and there isn’t a day that I don’t think about her. Really…even now knowing everything that I did to Y/n, I’d do anything for her. Not even to be with her. Like if I had the chance I would but I just want to make this right. If she’d let me.” 

Silence. Then, the host, brows raised:

“So…her?”

Jake didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah.”

Nina burst out in laughter. “What the fuck, yo he’s insane. This boy is still in love, it’s so sad.” She tossed the phone to the side, her laughter dying down as she realized she was the only one laughing. “Wait…sorry,” she exhaled sharply, closing her eyes to stabilize herself. “Are you okay, mama?” Her voice softened as she reached for your hand.

You squeezed her hand, forgiving her because this was just how she is. Nina laughs at all the things she shouldn’t be. But this was her way of trying to break up the awkwardness. In her mind, as long as someone’s laughing it’s going to be okay. Simply her coping mechanism: she was hurting for you and the best way to not make it seem so bad or stir up negative feelings, she tried to laugh to not make it as big as it was.

You saw that, and you still loved her for it. “I’m good, just weirded out.”

Amani rested her head on Nina's shoulder. “You sure? You’re allowed to be upset.”

“Not upset…I’m over it and I’ve sort of healed from it. But I just think he might be fishing, I don’t know.” You scoffed as you leaned back into the couch.

Nina scooted closer, slowly so Amani can move with her—and rested her hand on your arm. “He is. He’s an asshole that can wallow in his misery because he fumbled the most gorgeous and phenomenal woman in front of everyone. His ego can’t let him live it down.” She adjusted herself to lean her head on your shoulder and lock her arm around yours. “He’s a dick.”

Nina was always the one to write people off. Quickly. Prior to her relationship with Jungwon, she had undergone a very toxic, one-sided relationship that ended in cheating. Once she had gathered herself from that, she signed up for the show and met the most amazing guy. In a way, she got lucky. She won (no pun intended) in her heart and to see someone she got so close to, you, one of her best friends leave so scarred and hurt, really fucked her up. Because she was not one for second chances and she would be damned if one of the closest people in her life got hurt by the same guy again! 

Amani sighed, feeling like she was stuck in the middle. Her loyalty was with you absolutely, but she was nothing if not understanding and perceptive. She saw the bordering desperation in Jake’s eyes and she, however, didn’t want to just write him off completely.

You looked at Amani, waiting to hear her opinion. She always balanced very well and did her best to ensure everyone saw all sides, very diplomatic. But right now, the cogs in her mind were spinning, turning like a well oiled machine and she was seriously at war within herself. 

“What’s up with you?” You whisper with a sympathetic frown. 

Amani looked at you with a furrowed brow. Taken aback that during this moment that was about you, you still looked at her with care. As if she was the one that needed support. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you.” She shook her head. “I…I don’t really know what to make of this either.” She huffs as she adjusts her shiny Cartier bracelet that Jay got for her, sliding it down her wrist and fumbling it in her fingers. “It’s like I want to side with Nina and say screw it, he doesn’t deserve you—because truly he doesn’t. At this point, no one does—no one will ever be good enough for you in my eyes. But…I just—” She pauses and huffs again as she’s doing her best to find the right words.

You nod in anticipation. “It’s okay, just spit it out.”

She nods, “I can’t even fully tell if he’s being genuine. My intuition and affinity for body language tells me he is and he’s been very apologetic verbally. But I really don’t want to risk you getting hurt or even getting your hopes up only for him to possibly let you down again.”

You sat quietly, processing Amani’s words. Her honesty was very apparent—because if anyone could read a situation, it was her. Always level-headed, always watching. But that was what scared you. If she wasn’t sure, then how could you be?

“I don’t even want him back,” you said, not quite convincingly.

“Mm,” Nina mumbled, unconvinced herself.

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t. I just…I don’t want to look back on this one day and think I didn’t at least consider the possibility that he changed. That maybe…I didn’t need to hate him.”

Amani gave your arm a light squeeze. “That’s valid. Just don’t let him talk his way into your heart again without proving a damn thing.”

“Exactly,” Nina added, “because ‘I’d do anything for her’ sounds good and poetic in a dim-ass podcast studio. Or even a YA novel, or some cheesy Tumblr fanfic. But love isn’t performative. Love is action, though. And if he means it, then he'd be showing you.”

Copyright: © zorange13. 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, copy, or distribute without permission.

[protective-green-shells]

why is rise so flashy

[jellyfishsthings]

The Gravity Between Us

navigation , dc navigation

Summary: Dick yearning for a nerdy girl who constantly talks about her new books or new science inventions, he doesn't understand shit and they have to look stuff up constantly trying to keep up with her

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

Dick didn’t believe in love at first sight.

He believed in proximity. Shared moments. Laughter over mismatched socks and long nights spent brushing teeth in silence. He believed in the slow build—accumulated glances, casual touches, the way someone’s name sounded when said too softly, too often.

But if there was ever a moment that could challenge that belief, it was the first time he saw you.

You were arguing with the Dean of Gotham University’s Applied Sciences Department in the hallway. Over orbital velocity.

You weren’t angry, not really—your hands moved too freely for that. You were passionate. Bright-eyed. Electric. You rattled off calculations like poetry, numbers and terms Dick didn’t understand but wanted to memorize anyway.

She’s speaking Latin, he thought. No. Star-language. This woman is built of solar flares and syllables I don’t know how to pronounce.

He was there for a guest lecture on criminology. You were late to a meeting. You brushed past him, eyes distant, your bag slamming into his side without apology.

Dick fell in love with the sound of your thoughts.

He asked Barbara who you were.

“She’s scary smart,” Babs said, smirking over her coffee. “Don’t get your hopes up, Grayson. I tried to get her to help me debug something once and she built a better algorithm in ten minutes while eating a croissant.”

So of course he pursued you.

Like any normal person, Dick decided to attend your public seminars. Which meant sitting in the back of overcrowded rooms next to grad students who whispered things like Did she really reverse-engineer a nuclear model for fun?

He didn’t understand 70% of what you said. But he liked the way your eyes lit up when you talked about gravitational wave detection or microbial communication. You swore like a sailor when you explained things and always had chalk on your hands, like your mind spilled out of you faster than you could contain it.

He wasn’t your type. That much was obvious.

You liked brilliant, slightly aloof, lab-coated types who forgot to eat dinner because they were too busy decoding the genetic memory of fungi. Not acrobats who carried grappling hooks and read crime scene reports for breakfast.

Still. He wanted to know you.

You met properly during a blackout in the city.

You were in the lobby of your building, trying to coax a neighbor’s ancient cat out from under the vending machine with a laser pointer and tuna.

“Need a hand?” he asked, half-laughing, crouched beside you in the dark.

You looked at him. Really looked at him. Something shifted.

“I’ve seen you before,” you said. “You’re the guy who keeps showing up to my astrophysics lectures and pretending to take notes.”

Dick flushed. “Guilty.”

“You looked very confused during the part on dark matter.”

“To be fair, I was still trying to figure out what the Standard Model was.”

You smirked, tugged the cat out gently, handed it off to a grateful neighbor, and turned to him.

“Buy me coffee and I’ll explain it to you.”

He did. He also fell in love with the way you dunked your biscotti and talked about string theory like it was a romance novel.

Dating you was like orbiting a star.

You were radiant. Intense. Impossible not to be drawn to. You had ten books on your nightstand and a half-finished whiteboard formula in your kitchen. You wore socks with chemical structures on them and got distracted mid-sentence to scribble ideas on napkins.

And Dick—he tried.

God, he tried.

He watched documentaries. Asked Babs for help. Subscribed to every science podcast with a halfway decent host.

You’d curl up beside him, humming as you flipped through papers, occasionally whispering things like, “Did you know Venus rotates backwards?” or “There’s a protein in tardigrades that basically makes them immortal.”

He didn’t understand half of it.

But he loved listening. Because you came alive when you spoke. And every time he saw your hands moving, sketching new ideas in the air, he swore the rest of the world went quiet.

It wasn’t all stardust and poetry.

Dick had his own shadows. Long nights. Bruised ribs. The part of himself that couldn’t always talk about where he was or what he saw.

You didn’t push. But sometimes he saw the questions in your eyes. And sometimes, when you were halfway through explaining a recent breakthrough in bioluminescent engineering, you’d stop, tilt your head, and say:

“You’re not really here, are you?”

“I am,” he always said. “I’m trying.”

You’d nod, but the distance would settle in like fog.

One night, you found his emergency burner phone in the couch cushions. The message on it: “Warehouse raid at 2 a.m. Bring backup.”

He expected you to yell. Or leave.

Instead, you said, “You’re him, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Nightwing.”

Dick froze.

You looked calm. Tired, but calm. “I’ve cross-referenced your injuries, time away, and your avoidance of any real explanations. You’re either a spy or a vigilante. And given your gymnastic abilities and the way you keep bruising your ribs…”

He blinked. “You figured that out from my rib injuries?”

You shrugged. “The pattern matched a common trajectory of reinforced police batons. I ran the math.”

He laughed. Then kissed you. Then cried a little into your shoulder when you said, “I still want you to be safe. But I’m not leaving.”

One night, you were on the phone with your lab while cooking stir fry with your free hand and explaining CRISPR to Damian, who’d just dropped by to borrow a biology textbook.

Tim was there too, sitting at the counter with a furrowed brow and an empty notepad.

“Wait—wait, can you say that again?” Tim asked, already flipping through his calculus workbook.

Dick walked in and stopped in the doorway.

There you were—hair messy, glasses askew, hoodie half-tucked—and two of the smartest people he knew were hanging on your every word.

Tim scribbled notes while you corrected a theorem. Damian asked about mitochondrial DNA. You didn’t even pause while plating dinner with your foot.

And Dick?

He leaned on the doorframe and watched you—half in awe, half jealous.

Because he used to be the one who lit up when you talked. He used to be the one who asked all the questions, tried to keep up. Now the boys were stealing your brain, your laugh, your look at this cool thing I just discovered!

He sighed a little too loudly.

You turned, eyes wide. “Hey, babe. Hungry?”

“I could eat.”

Tim looked up. “She just explained the Schrödinger equation using scrambled eggs.”

“Of course she did,” Dick muttered, kissing your temple. “Because that’s sexy now, apparently.”

You grinned. “Oh? You jealous?”

Dick looked at your two very eager pupils.

“…Maybe a little.”

Later that night, you found him in bed with a beginner’s book on astrophysics.

You laughed. “Babe.”

“I need to catch up. I don’t want to lose you to Tim and Damian.”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“They understand your brain.”

You crawled into his lap, took the book from his hands, and kissed him softly. “You don’t have to understand everything I say. You just have to listen.”

“I do listen.”

“I know. That’s why I love you.”

Dick paused. Blinked. “You love me?”

You smiled. “Was that not obvious?”

He pulled you into his chest and whispered, “I’m in orbit, sweetheart. Always have been.”

And you?

You curled up against him, heart steady, mind quiet for once, knowing that no matter how fast your thoughts spun, he’d always be right there—trying, listening, loving you through it all.

[moon-fics]

Movie Projections

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader Summary: After finding an old projector, you decide to host movie nights in your room. Just for Bob. A/N: I wanted to write a short comfort.

"Wait, so the giant just eats metal from that guy's yard?" Bob interrupts the movie. Ever since finding a projector in the storage room, you've been having movie nights with him. You had to tweak the projector to be able to hook up to your computer, but it only took a few shocks.

You've found that pointing it up at your ceiling and lying on your bed is the most comfortable way to watch. Plus, you can be close to Bob the entire time and blame it on the small screen.

"Yes, he eats scrap metal. You're focusing on the wrong thing," You groan. Tonight, you've convinced him to watch the "Iron Giant", which you haven't seen since you were a kid. You don't remember most of the plot, but you wanted to relive your childhood for just a bit. "He's a giant robot who is friends with a child! He's like, super cool!" You point out.

"I'm not saying he isn't. I just find it weird he eats the same material he's made of," He shrugs. You roll your eyes and shush him. You can't hear the movie over his jokes, but you enjoy hearing his laugh. You try to find comedy movies to distract his brain, and oftentimes he falls asleep halfway through them.

"Listen, I'd prefer he eat metal instead of humans. That would be a bigger problem," You say. "He's just a kind robot who is judged too soon."

Bob turns his head to look at you. Half his face is pressed against the covers. You decide to return the favor by making eye contact with him. The projector gives him a twinkle in his eyes, and it makes them seem even softer. His lips are subtly turned upward, and you only see it during brighter moments of the movie.

"Do you think we could do this every night?" He asks in a soft tone. "I like being around you. I have fewer nightmares when I sleep here, and you don't tiptoe around me." He rubs his eye nervously. Even after spending so much time together he still worries about rejection.

"You can hang out here any time you want." You take his hand in yours. Physical affection is something that soothes him, but only from specific people. From the team, he enjoys hugs and being near them. With you, everything is on the table. You've cuddled, held hands, and even fallen asleep together. Anyone else outside that small circle is not as welcoming.

"You don't have to be so worried about intruding. You're welcome in my room whenever." You assure him. This warrants an approving grin.

He turns his focus back to the movie, and you didn't realize how much time had passed. The movie is almost over, and you realize why you hadn't rewatched it sooner. The Giant is blown up after a devastating reminder of his friendship with the boy.

You hear a sniffle and glance over to see tears forming in Bob's eyes. You're on high alert now and sit up to see him better. He's wiping his eyes before you can get a better look. He's aware you've caught on to him crying.

"Sorry, I just- the movie hit a bit close," He mumbles. His eyes and nose are red as tears continue to form in his eyes. He keeps swiping them away, and you know that won't stop them. "With the whole judging the giant off his appearance and then choosing who he wants to be," He chuckles through his cracking voice.

You gently take his wrists into your hands to stop him from rubbing his eyes. It forces him to look at you and realize you understand. Maybe tonight's choice wasn't the best.

"Well, I think you chose to be a better person," You hum. "No matter what you do, I will always see that."

He nods hesitantly and allows his tears to fall. There are only a few, but it's enough to calm him down. He sniffles one last time and then uses your grip on his arms to pull you down onto his chest. Without thinking twice, you wrap your arms under his shoulders to get as close as possible to him.

"You're a good person, Bob. Everyone on the team knows it, and soon the world will, too." You say against his sweater. You can smell his cologne on his sweater, and it makes your eyes feel heavy.

You let out a yawn and nuzzle your face against him to get comfortable. His hands wrap around your waist to keep you stable against him. You can hear his breathing, and it's a lullaby.

"We're definitely watching something with comedy in it tomorrow," He whispers.

"Oh, no, I agree. I don't think I can handle another movie where a character dies," You say. "Maybe we can watch 'La La Land'," You suggest. You haven't seen it yet, but from what you've had spoiled, it looks like a romance movie. Maybe it'll be more upbeat than "The Iron Giant".

"Whatever it is, I'll watch it as long as you're here," He says with a slurred speech. You can sense his body growing heavy as sleep calls to him. You slip one arm out from under him and reach for the projector. You shut it off, and the room goes dark.

---

You're sitting on your bed scrolling through movies to watch, because it turns out "La La Land" is not an uplifting story. Bob is sitting next to you with his head on your shoulder as he watches you scroll. You are on a mission to find a movie that won't shatter both your hearts.

You can sense something is off with him, but you're waiting for him to tell you first. Eventually, he pokes your thigh to get your attention. You stop scrolling and shift around to face him. With your full attention on him, his confidence has decreased.

"W-when I asked if we could do this every night, I, uh, I was kinda asking it to be more like..." He says sheepishly. "Like a date." He finishes his sentence. "I didn't know if you understood that, and by the time I was going to explain, I chickened out," His voice lowers the more he speaks.

It makes more sense that he asked such a question with romantic intent. You just assumed he was worried he'd be intruding or bothering you. His eyes flicker between you, and his hands fidget with the sheets.

"That can be arranged," You say. The moment you agree, his eyes light up like the moon. "Only if you start bringing snacks." You warn.

"Well, there goes the date idea," He fakes a sad expression as a taunt, but quickly returns to a smile. "I'll make sure to bring the snacks next time."

[nebulablakemurphy]

Horn Of Plenty

Summary: The Capitol sends a very special gift for Y/N and Haymitch’s son on his first birthday. Set in the Moves & Countermoves universe, can be read as a stand alone. SoTR Spoliers

Warning: SMUT 18 + ONLY, mentions of trauma

Today is a big day.

Through all the diapers and sleepless nights, they made it. One year of being parents to this perfect little boy. Haymitch is still in awe of him.

“Vanity sent clothes.” Y/N tells Haymitch, watching as he turns to her with their son in his arms. “Cameras will be here later.”

“Surprised she’s not here.”

“She’s got a show,” Y/N inches closer, enough to tickle Everest’s little belly. “High fashion waits for no one.”

The boy squeals, hiding his face in his father’s shirt.

Haymitch smiles, keeping hold of the wiggling child. “On a scale from ugly to hideous, how bad are they?”

“They’re pretty tame,” Y/N shrugs.

I love you. Haymitch has to bite his tongue to keep the words from escaping. He just can’t risk it.

————————————————————————

Y/N’s family joins them for the festivities and cake of course. Though there is only so much a one year old can do, Caesar Flickerman is hosting live from the Capitol. And they’ve sent Everest a very special gift.

“Now, we’ve sent this all the way to district twelve.” Caesar narrates, as the cameras in their living room move of their own accord. “I do hope it’s to your liking.”

“I’m sure it is, Caesar.” Haymitch says, “you know us all so well.”

Everest, in his white collared shirt and powder blue overalls, claps his hands, watching his father remove the lid of the box. The sides fall free, revealing a black rocking horse.

“Oh,” Y/N gasps. “This is beautiful!”

Haymitch wants to play his part, to smile and admire the craftsmanship, but he can’t move. He can barely breathe.

Y/N carefully seats her son on the horse, keeping hold as he begins to rock. Drawing the camera away from Haymitch, to a tight shot of the birthday boy.

‘Oh, Horn of Plenty. One Horn of Plenty for us all. And when you raise the cry, the brave shall heed the call, and we should never falther. One Horn of Plenty for us all.’

The anthem ends only to begin again.

Everest babbles, toying with the horse’s mane.

“He loves it!” Y/N rejoices, and through the camera’s speaker she can hear similar applause in the Capitol.

“Ahhaha! We are so pleased to hear that.” Caesar’s voice booms through the camera speaker. “As much as we hate to see you go, I’m afraid it’s time for our next segment.”

“Of course, we understand, Caesar.” Y/N says. “Thank you all for your generosity and for celebrating Everest’s birthday with us!” She waves. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, bye.” The little boy coos.

“Bye, bye!” Caesar replies, tearfully.

The cameras power down and wheel themselves out the open door, leaving the birthday boy and his family.

“Get him off that horse.” Haymitch demands, slamming the front door closed and turning the lock.

“Why?” Y/N’s father laughs, “surely we don’t need to be so strict about bedtime. It’s my grandson’s birthday.”

“Dad,” Y/N whispers, taking Everest back into her arms. “It’s been a long day.”

“Haymitch?” Madge waves a hand in front of his glossy eyes. “Are you ok?”

“I need a minute, Maysilee.” Shit. Fuck. “Madge. I’m sorry. I meant Madge.”

Too late. Y/N’s mother bursts into tears, clutching at her head.

Madge’s face crumples, “it’s ok, Haymitch. I know you didn’t mean to.” This happens a lot, not with Haymitch, but her mother. Maysilee or Merrilee. I’m whoever you want me to be.

He wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole.

“They took them all, they took them!”

“Melodiee, please my love.” Y/N’s father sighs, stepping around his daughters to his wife. “Where’s your medicine?”

With the commotion, Everest begins to cry.

“It’s ok,” Y/N forces a smile, looking down at her son. “You’re ok.”

Haymitch moves, as if in a trance toward his son. Oh my baby. My poor, sweet baby. What have I done? Can I spare you? He says nothing, caressing the back of Everest’s head. No, I fear, they will not let me spare you.

One might find humor in the fact that a rocking horse could cause a family to collapse; splintering apart on what should be a happy day.

The Undersees clear out, leaving only Haymitch, Y/N and Everest. Who still needs to be rocked to sleep, despite what the morning may bring.

Y/N sits with Everest in the rocking chair of his nursery. They’d hoped to wean him off of nursing, but tonight he is too restless. And Y/N is too tired to be in this chair any longer than necessary.

She hums and sways until the little hand fisted in her shirt releases. He’s out like a light.

Haymitch watches from the doorway as Y/N eases their son into his crib. Waiting until she closes the door to his room before speaking. “I took it to the other house.”

The ‘other house’ had once been hers. Now plagued with unwanted cameras and haunted horses.

She nods, before taking his face in her hands. “Haymitch, I know that after everything we’ve been through, things can seem worse or bigger than they are. It happens to me too. But if anything, Snow just wanted to rile you up. I don’t think the horse means anything.”

“We got thrown off the chariots. Louella died and I took her body to him using a horse that looked just like that.”

“I know,” Y/N nods, “I hear you.”

“Tributes are drawn by black horses in the parade while the anthem plays.” Haymitch snarls, “Snow wants him for the games.”

“Then we have eleven years to change his mind.”

“Beetee had twelve.” Haymitch’s heart is beating itself out of his chest. “We’re raising a lamb for the slaughter.”

“No,” Y/N stops him. “No we’re not.” She passes her thumb over his cheek. “We can learn from Beetee. We’re gonna play our parts, we’re gonna do whatever Snow says.”

Haymitch knows he should object, this isn’t what Y/N wants. She longs to be wild and free, to storm the Capitol, guns blazing. But he needs her, like air, to breathe. “It’s too late, Y/N. He knows.”

“He knows what?” Y/N breathes.

“That I love-” Haymitch tries to stop it, to stuff the words back down, but he can’t. “You! I love you and he knows.”

“Oh, Haymitch.”

He presses a hand to his mouth to contain the unbidden sob.

Y/N wraps her arms around him. “I love you too.”

He clings to her, as though she will slip right through his fingers. “I love-” he wants to tell her a hundred, thousand times, but the words burn, like acid in his throat.

“I know,” Y/N strokes his hair, the same color as their son’s. “You don’t have to say it. I know.”

He holds her and weeps. For his Pa, Ma and Sid. For Maysilee and Louella and Lou Lou. For Wyatt and Ampert. And for Beetee, who surely lives in unimaginable pain. For Lenore Dove, who despite her own untimely death, surely sent him an angel. “Everyone I love is dead; except for you and that little boy. Everyone I love.”

“I’m so sorry, Haymitch.” Y/N buries her face in the junction between his neck and shoulder. Kissing him and kissing him and kissing him, doing everything she can to ease his pain. “So sorry.”

Even she can’t stop it. He is broken, defeated and tired. I cannot lose you.

“We’ll be alright.” Y/N promises, “I’ll do what it takes to stay right here with you and keep Everest safe.”

He brings her impossibly closer. I cannot lose Everest. “He’s ours.”

“It’s like you’ve always said, if we make the Capitol fall in love with him, they won’t be eager to watch him fight to the death.” Y/N believes that, she has to.

She’s right, he knows she is. But he’s at the point of no return, words cannot calm him.

“Here,” Y/N snakes a hand between them to unbutton his pants. She knows it is wrong, to comfort him this way. To place a bandage over a bullet wound but she can’t stand his tears. Or the sound of his ragged breathing, cannot bear the thought of him in any kind of pain.

Haymitch helps her shuck his pants down around his ankles, knowing they stand no chance of making it to the bed.

“Ask me again.” Y/N pants, against his mouth. Gentle fingers find the waistband of her panties, forcing them to the ground.

“What?” Haymitch can’t think of anything beyond shoving himself inside her, as deep as he possibly can, on the hallway floor.

“It’s real,” Y/N gasps, welcoming the feel of his length stretching her. “Ask me again.”

“I wanted to do something special.” Not now, within an inch of losing his mind.

“This is special,” Y/N assures him. “Ask me again, I want to be your wife.” If we’re running out of time…I want to be your wife.

“Marry me.” Haymitch says, tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth. “Marry me and you’ll never be alone. You’ll be mine and I’ll be yours. I want to be your husband.” He admits, “I want you to be my wife. Marry me.”

“Yes.” Y/N nods.

Haymitch kisses the side of her face, the corner of her mouth, relishing her little whimpers. Rutting against her harder, faster, until he feels the familiar flutter of her walls around him. Milking him dry.

Y/N sighs contently as Haymitch’s arms give out and he rests his full weight against her.

“I wanna do a toasting.” Haymitch tells her.

Y/N yawns. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, angel,” he smiles, “tomorrow.”

————————————————————————

Haymitch wakes to the sound of Everest fussing in his crib. The noise used to send him sprinting from bed, to see what danger had befallen his son, but he knows better now.

“Sometimes babies cry, Haymitch.” Y/N reminds him, “he’s alright. Just wants a clean diaper and milk. Or to be held for a while; he’ll calm right down.”

Haymitch sits up, stretching both arms above his head. Y/N is sound asleep beside him. He presses a kiss to her head before padding down to their son’s room.

Everest leans against the pristine, white slats of his crib. Peeking out to see who’s come to his rescue. “Dada.”

Haymitch grins. “Good morning.”

Everest squeals as he’s lifted from the confines of his bed.

“Well, kid, I’ve got bad news.”

Everest babbles, shaking about the rattle laid beside him on the changing table.

Haymitch tosses the soiled diaper into the waste basket. “Your mama is still sleeping and we need eggs to make breakfast.”

“Mamamamama.”

“Which means we have to raid one of those wild goose nests outback.”

Everest only smiles as his father dresses him for the day.

“They don’t like me very much, so I’m hoping to distract them with your cuteness.” Haymitch tells him. “Not sure how well it’ll work, given that you look like me and all, but it’s worth a shot.”

[linnlarsnhansn]

SKAM 10 year anniversary podcast -

English translation

NRK is celebrating a decade of Skam (😭) with a nine episode podcast. You can listen here

I'm collaborating with @kosegruppie who will be posting my translations and make subtitled videos with them. Make sure to follow them here on insta for all the latest!

Below the cut you'll find the transcript of the first episode (I've skipped a few summaries, the radio hosts watching the show etc, but all cast and crew interviews are there!). Enjoy!

From 03:50 

Torkil Risan: It’s hard to measure that kind of thing, but Skam has to be Norway’s biggest tv show success. It was a small productio with low budget, had unknown actors and no traditional marketing. But the show would go on to break streaming records, set the agenda for public debate and take part in changing the language both in Norway and abroad. It would change the lives of many young people and entertain hordes of adults, and not only in Norway, no. There were people using their free time to translate the Norwegian episodes to a steadily growing international audience. Episodes were downloaded both illegally and, well only illegally really. But whatever. People all over the world were watching Skam. Skam has, up until this point, nine international adaptations, with Sram in Croatia as the latest one - it came out in October 2024. And all of this, that is the Norwegian original version, is created, written and directed by one person - Julie Andem. 

JA: It became very difficult after a while to film and keep the storylines secret, because we were recorded wherever we went. Especially the outdoor scenes. Like at Nissen there were suddenly hordes of fans from all over the world when we were supposed to film, so that made it a bit difficult.    

TR: And you can’t picture what it would become like when unknown 16 and 17 year olds get cast in a new show at NRK.

JA: Before these actors got their roles, at the last round of auditions, I had a talk with each one of them where I said: “I don’t know how big this show will become, it can become nothing, but it might become big. And if it becomes big and you become famous, you give away part of your freedom - the freedom to be anonymous to people. Today, when you’re on the bus, having a bad day, no one bothers you. But after you’ve become famous, people will walk up to you and want to talk to you and you can’t get away from that. When I call you next week and give you the role, if I do, I’ll ask if you’ve thought that over, and what you think of it - because you have to think that over now.” And I said that to each one of them before they got their parts. And then I think it was Josefine who said, we talked later about what I had said, that she thought “that lady is delusional. She’s making a small P3 show”. My talk went in one ear and out the other. 

JA: It’s hard to imagine things like this for people that haven’t experienced success like that, and what it demands of you afterwards. And the freedom you lose to be anonymous. It is a really difficult pressure and it can be challenging. We thought a lot about it throughout and one of the main reasons that we ended Skam when we did, was because of that pressure on the young actors.

TR: Is this an ongoing conversation with the cast? 

JA: I always think - there’s no one outside of it who understands what we experienced with Skam. So the best ones to talk to, always, about these things are the cast and the production team, who understand it and have the same feelings. 

TR: That Skam also changed the lives of those who created it, we’ve established. I am curious about how Julie Andem, who has no clue how big the show is going to become, created these characters?

JA: As I remember it, I did loads of research with the target group to understand what that group, girls in Norway aged 16, needed, what stories it needed. And I think my goal was to develop 10 characters who could fit into a universe about them. That’s where I started. And the plan was that all the characters would develop in a way that they could carry their own season. So all of them were developed as main characters. I created them before the seasons, before the storylines. 

TR: In September it’ll be ten years since Skam was released. It was released more like an event than a traditional tv show. Short clips could be dropped at any point during the week and people in the show posted on social media. It was Mari Magnus who was responsible for these digital updates. 

MM: All the characters, even if they don’t have open accounts on social media, have a bunch of email addresses. I have a box full of sim cards and burner phones. Everyone had a facebook account. They were private, but it was so that it would feel a little real if you searched “Isak Valtersen”.

TR: Someone else that became well known to the audience, was media professor Vilde Schanke Sundet. She saw the format as unique enough that she had to start doing research on Skam while it was still possible. 

VSS: I binged the entire first season one night. I remember laying in the cosy corner at home, watching on the ipad. I went to bed at 2:30 am and thought “now I understand what they are talking about”. I was interested in analysing it the same way researchers have been interested in analysing multimedia storytelling - how the story is built, how you make the different components, what it is NRK wants with this show, what it is trying to tell. And you become so drawn into the story that the ability to analyse goes a bit up and down through the different seasons. 

TR: What makes Skam different from other tv shows?

VSS: There’s both things that make it very different and things that are very similar. Because the dramatic curves are similar to other dramas we know of. It’s love triangles, good vs evil, the struggle to find yourself, all things similar to the high school/coming of age genre. And it’s well made, but that’s not what’s groundbreaking. The groundbreaking part is how the story is told. You're doing it real time, so if you’re following the blog it will appear very close. You never know when something is coming. It’s unpredictable, it drags people in. It’s based on the needs of the audience. They did loads of research when developing the show and it appears closer when the setting is a Norwegian high school than an American one. That makes it different and innovative. I think all the fans know they are fictional characters, but they feel much more real because we are not sitting down in front of the tv to watch, they are just there in your everyday life. It’s much more at the top of your mind than other things you watch and put behind you until the next episode is released. 

TR: The way Skam was created made it special. But that was not the most important part for Morten Hegseth. 

MH: The format has been given too much credit. It was a good format to post clips in that way, but the reason it was so good was that the content was amazing. It wasn’t the publishing strategy that made Skam an international phenomenon. 

(Skip to 13:26)

TR: Before they created Skam, the show creator Julie Andem and a few others made in depth interviews with young people in the target group. And the challenges Eva has in season 1, was pretty common with the group. 

JA: What is that life like? When you’re coming from secondary school, where you have a friend group and a familiar and safe environment and you’re thrown into a new universe. Everything is starting over and you have to find your place again. But she starts out as a girl who has become totally dependent on her boyfriend. She’s been thrown out of the friend group because of the choice she’s made to be together with her boyfriend, with Jonas, and that makes her dependent on him. 

TR: A successful way to independence is to become friends with a confident, stylish and cool new girl, like Noora. That, despite being good in Spanish, isn’t as crazy about russ as the other girls Eva start’s to hang out with - Jente-Chris, Vilde and Sana, who has concrete plans to fix a spot on a russebuss. And there you have our girl gang. Do you, the listener, think they are cool? Are they supposed to be cool?

JA: Socially, in school, they are not a cool group. That’s what the first storyline is about. The Pepsi Max gang are the cool, pretty girls and the other girls are not so cool. But I think they are very cool.

TR: What about the boys, aren’t they cooler?

JA: Yeah, they do at least have cooler references and masks. I’s more important to them to be cool. So they might be “cooler”.  

TR: To actress Lisa Teige, it was a bit like starting a new school - moving from Bergen and start working as an actor in Skam. How much of Eva is really in Lisa? 

LT: In the beginning I felt very different from Eva, because she went through very different things, I thought at that time. But things like finding friends in high school, I do identify with. I didn’t have that boyfriend drama, at least so early on. But looking back at it now, I would say I see myself in a lot of the things Skam talks about. I’ve also been in girl drama, had partner problems and the vulnerability in finding new friends. But back then, I felt the need to be like “No! I’m not going through the same things as Eva right now”. But really I did eventually go through those things. 

TR: And like Eva, Lisa did find some good friends on Nissens’s school yard. 

LT: I remember I noticed they were a few years older than me. I thought they were incredibly cool. That was my first thought “shit, these are cool people with experience”. It felt very cool to be part of that group. And I have so many good memories from the set with all the girls together. Especially because there’s a lot of humor surrounding the Vilde and Chris characters. They improvised many funny parts and we were laughing so hard on set. The dynamics of the group was really good. 

TR: But Bergen, where Lisa is from, and Oslo are two different cities and they have different accents. 

LT: Some things were difficult for me, as someone from Bergen. Like when I was supposed to say vors (pre-game) for the first time, which I had never said before and I don’t think I had ever been to one. And they said vors in the Oslo dialect and it was so difficult for me. I had to call mum and dad back home to ask how I was supposed to say the word. 

TR: Eva is also one of the characters who is making out the most in the show. And here both Lisa and actor Marlon Langeland, who plays Jonas, got thrown into the deep end from the start. 

LT: We had a workshop before filming, where we got to know each other and we played some games, as warm up. But to start kissing that person is something totally different. I remember dreading that quite a lot, because we were making out the first day of filming. 

LT: And that’s the kind of thing you dread a lot, but when you first get going it’s very mechanical in a way. You don’t think about what you’re really doing and it’s like “can you place your hand there”, “turn a bit that way” and “make the kiss a bit more intense, because it looks good on camera”. 

(skip to 27:19)

TR: Mari Magnus mentioned The penetrators, the coolest russebuss at Nissen. 

MM: Penetrators has a song, that’s on Spotify and I don’t know if it has been said before, it probably has, but *whispers* it’s Tarjei. 

TR: That’s rapping?

MM: Yes. 

TR: So the guy singing lines like “Penetrators cums on your face, the weather report says flooding, it’ll rain cum”, that Tarjei Sandvik Moe, who plays Isak. Tarjei went to Nissen himself during this time and managed to sneak in several references to actual things going on in the school. And to blur the lines between the fictional and reality was one of the show’s goals. To make the show as real as possible they had instagram accounts and could start chatting with each other on friday evenings. 

MM: It was a Friday evening and Julie was probably at work and we posted a photo on Jonas’ account, a Big Smalls reference, that he tagged Isak in. And we are logged into one account each, one on Isak’s, one on Jonas’. And we decided to have some fun in the comment section, hoping that maybe three people would see it, but that these three would have such a weird experience that they in school on Monday would say “You won’t believe what I say on instagram on Friday”. So Isak and Jonas drag Eva into it, but Eva is on a russebuss. And the audience is so cool, there are fans playing along and commenting things like “I saw you in the cafeteria today” “what did you get on your maths test?”. This is week two maybe, and those things we could do a bit more strategically at the start to get the engagement going.  

TR: It’s a bit slow in the beginning, but interest in Skam grows quite fast. So to chat as the characters on instagram becomes too difficult, there’s too many others taking part in the conversation. And some audience members were more engaged than others. One of them was Julian Dahl, who was very active in the comment section. Active enough to get mentioned in the show. 

TR: You’re living alongside these characters and sometimes that creates problems. Because Eva wants Jonas and Isak to go with her to the revy-party but they can’t. Why not?

Isak: We can’t

Jonas: Why not? 

Isak: The tickets to Kindred Fever. 

Jonas: I had totally forgotten that. 

TR: You’re excused if the name Kindred Fever doesn’t ring any bells. They had a mini hype right around the time when this was released and they happened to have a concert the same day as the revy-party. 

JA: The only reason we picked that concert was because it was Oslo that day. We just thought what band could they possibly be interested in that’s playing in Oslo that day?

TR: To make the right references is hard when you’re making a show. How do you know what 16 year old boys are saying, doing and would post? Sometimes Mari Magnus asked the actors to do it themselves. 

MM: In season one we sent Isak, Eva and Jonas out on the town with some phones and told them to make some content as if they were a friend group eating burgers in town. And they came home with loads of nice stuff we could post. 

(Skip to 33:40)

TR: I’m at your disposal - you can ask questions about the show and leave your thoughts and tips. There’s many easter eggs and symbolism in Skam that might be fun to dig deeper into if we come across it. There’s a messaging function on NRK radio. You could for example ask, like I asked Julie Andem, why is the show called Skam?

JA: We had loads of suggestions and we hung big sheets of paper at the auditions where they could write suggestions for the name of the show. And we got a lot of strange ones and Ingvild Marie Nyborg, who was on the team, came up with Skam and no one of us hated it, so that was the one. 

TR: Do you remember any of the ones you hated? 

JA: I remember “the 99:er gang”. 

TR: I’ve found some questions the fans are wondering by sneaking around in some of the many Skam online fan forums: Like, who in the Skam universe is Lisa Teige? 

LT: During the auditions I very much wanted to be Noora. Especially when I was 16 I thought Noora was super cool. But I do feel closest to Eva. I recognize myself in the insecurity and the fun parts and being someone with principles. It’s a boring answer, but it is Eva. That’s why I got to play her.  

[weaselandfriends]

Lucky☆Star (Anime)

How does art age?

There's a joke in Lucky☆Star where the four main characters fill out a questionnaire that asks them what they want to be when they grow up. Konata, the otaku, puts down "Brigade Leader," which draws as punchline an eyeroll from her sarcastic friend, Kagami.

The core of this joke is that Konata has taken a serious question and answered it with a fictional "occupation" from an anime she likes -- specifically, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, which was monstrously popular at the time. Almost everyone watching Lucky☆Star in 2007, when it first aired, would understand this reference. That understanding would then foster a sense of kinship with the work, the feeling of "being seen," the long yearned-for ideal of niche nerd subcultures laughed at by society at large.

Despite its incredible influence on moe aesthetics and anime culture in 2006, Haruhi Suzumiya is virtually forgotten now, unwatched even by diehards and unrecommended by the old weebs who were around in its heyday. I've never seen it myself. It's my next watch, with another friend who is even more of an anime neophyte than I am; our third friend, who did watch it in 2006, refuses to rewatch with us. It's too cringe, she says. The suggestion I get is that, if we were to modernize the what-you-want-to-be-when-you-grow-up joke, Konata might instead put that she wants to become a Skibidi Toilet.

Haruhi Suzumiya haunts Lucky☆Star like a ghost. She is in almost every episode, as either a poster or figurine or manga cover or cosplay or karaoke rendition or even, once, a voiced commercial. She has more presence than most of the supporting cast, the majority of whom do not appear until the 14th episode (but who also haunt the show via their unexplained presence in the OP). Konata is voiced by the same actress who voiced Haruhi, a fact that launches an armada of arcane metafictional injokes, including a scene where Konata sees said voice actress in concert. The sheer magnitude of these references wash over the 2025 viewer. They are meaningless. Haruhi Suzumiya is dead and buried. She is seen more by the shadow she casts in this show than anywhere else.

The inscrutability of this massive swath of the show suggests that Lucky☆Star itself has not aged particularly well. Indeed, compared to its zenith in 2007, it's not faring much better than Haruhi today. The sole advantage Lucky☆Star has, in fact, might stem from the "Out Of Touch Thursday" meme, which keeps some small shard of it alive in the anime community's consciousness. Even if you take the time to research the references, needing to research them at all gives the ultimate impression is that Konata is no longer the trendy otaku she once was, but passe, lame, dated, cringe, Out Of Touch. It's only the thin line of competent verbal skills that keeps her from becoming her dark mirror, Tomoko Kuroki.

But Haruhi Suzumiya is by no means the only obscure reference the show flings out, and some of these references I can only imagine were unknown even to the teenage-skewing anglosphere anime culture of 2007. At one point, Konata makes a reference (Timotei, Timotei) to a Japanese commercial for a Finnish shampoo brand from the 1980s. Karaoke segments feature Japanese pop songs from the 70s (with Kagami sarcastically asking Konata "How old are you?" whenever she puts them on). The entire Lucky Channel bit that appears at the end of each episode is an extended reference to a Japanese-only radio show that ran concurrent to the original airing. Even within that context, the fact that Lucky Channel co-host Minoru Shiraishi is a real person playing himself (and the other co-host, Akira Kogami, is not) is lost on anyone without highly specialized knowledge. That the credits sequences of the show's second half feature the real Minoru Shiraishi in live action is equally easy to miss. The bleeding edge transience of the references culminates with the show recursively referring to its own fame. In one scene, Konata reads a fortune at a Kyoto temple that says "Konata is my wife"; this is a reference to real-life otaku going to a temple in Saitama, where Lucky☆Star is set, and leaving the same prayer.

The show requires footnotes. It had them, on the 2007 anime forums where the show accrued so much buzz, entire Bibles breaking down every reference; it truly wasn't understood even when it aired. It makes perfect sense why Lucky☆Star wouldn't age well.

Yet, watching the show for the first time in 2014, long after its cultural moment, and again in 2025, I have found it extraordinarily timeless. In fact, I liked it better in 2025 than 2014, despite an additional 11 years of watching anime that enabled me to understand exactly 0 things I didn't get the first time around. And there are a lot of things I didn't get. The references I detailed earlier are only the ones, in complete befuddlement, I bothered to look up; so many more continue to elude me.

In many ways, Lucky☆Star is aware of how inscrutable it is and compensates for itself. Wikipedia describes Konata as the "main character" of the show, and to the otaku audiences of 2007 she was the most relatable of the cast and by extension the most popular character by far (something outright stated in one of the Lucky Channel segments, which reveals the results of an actual character popularity poll), but in terms of screen time, she is not appreciably more present than either of the Hiiragi twins, Kagami and Tsukasa. It's not as though Lucky☆Star has anything resembling a plot, either, that would frame a particular character as the "protagonist"; at best the cast can be described as ensemble. This decentralization of perspective enables a wide variety of ways for the viewer to connect with the show. Konata's authentic (in 2007) otakuism made her the darling of that audience, but the show itself does not innately weigh her so highly. In fact, even when her references are inscrutable, it's the confused response of Tsukasa, or the sarcastic response of Kagami (who tends to call Konata the 2007 equivalent of "cringe"), that provide a contextual framework for what the joke is supposed to be. I don't need to know what the SOS Brigade is when Konata expresses her desire to grow up and become a Brigade Leader, because I can understand through Kagami's biting remark that it is some frivolous anime horseshit.

More importantly, the show's equivocation in terms of perspective makes it possible to empathize with Kagami's position over Konata's. The simplest comedy dynamic is the comedian/straight man, but the reliance of most narrative comedy on some form of social stakes -- either in the form of argument, humiliation, physical or psychological pain, or so on -- generally leads to empathy with one of the duo over the other. The straight man might be a put-upon everyman who is unfairly forced to deal with an obnoxious oaf, or a too-serious curmudgeon who is getting what they deserve from a guy who's just having a little fun. In the first case, the straight man is the point of audience empathy; in the second, the comedian is.

Konata and Kagami follow this comedy dynamic to a T, with Konata an aimless slacker and Kagami the uptight perfectionist. But in Lucky☆Star, divorced entirely from anything resembling a narrative -- episodic, situational, or otherwise -- there are zero social stakes to their conversations. Nobody ever "loses." Nobody is ever hurt. Nobody is wrong or right. Nothing happens at the expense of one character or another. As such, it is possible to watch the show and see the joke from the perspective of any given character at any time. If Konata says some arcane reference you don't get, Kagami's clapback becomes the joke. If Konata says something and you do understand it, the reference itself is the joke.

This comedic ambivalence is structurally remarkable (jokes typically have rigidly defined punchlines, moments you are "supposed" to laugh at), but comes with the price of the jokes not really being very funny. What it does do is create comprehensible and even "relatable" situations out of incomprehensible bits of referential information. Not understanding the reference is not an impediment to understanding Lucky☆Star. As such, Lucky☆Star functions as both a hyper-specific time capsule of 2007 anime subculture and a work that can be engaged with on its own terms even when completely divorced from that context.

The advent of the internet has led to an explosion in the spread of information and the ascendancy of the niche. It has also led to shorter shelf lives for information and an increased focus on the immediate. Memes burst into prominence, linger a month or two, vanish. Media is buzzed about in some section of society, is unknown everywhere else. A social media influencer has millions of followers and yet is a complete blank in the wider cultural eye. How can a work of art reflect this reality without rendering itself incomprehensible in a year, ten years, twenty? Is it possible to make timeless art in such a milieu, without stripping away as many signifiers of the world we live in to rely solely on "universal" and thus generic themes such as love, death, etc.?

I've seen many ways of attacking this problem. Infinite Jest's famous footnotes are one, as is the genre of "hysterical realism" itself, which attempts to create the suggestion of information density via massive novels with tons of characters spanning many countries and even time periods. Homestuck builds its own internal language of memes (I warned you about stairs bro!) that the reader will always understand no matter how many arcane applications those memes receive throughout the work. (Hence why an audience of teens in the 2010s were able to laugh uproariously at jokes about the 90s action flick Con Air that none of them had ever seen.) Multiverse movies, from Everything Everywhere All at Once to Into the Spider-Verse, depict the density of information horizontally rather than vertically, with unlimited variations on the same core theme. Even if you have never read whatever obscure comic run Noir Spider-Man comes from, you can understand him immediately based on his relationship to a sort of Platonic ideal of "Spider-Man".

These are all highly controlled forms of conveying the idea of "current day information density" without actually wallowing in actual current day information density. What's remarkable about Lucky☆Star is both that it actually does engage with the incredibly niche memes of its exact moment in time, but that it does so through the complete ceding of narrative control. Lucky☆Star functions because, not in spite of, the fact that it has no protagonist, no plot. It doesn't even have situations, like an episodic sitcom. It is not especially concerned with being funny, or dramatic, or heartwarming, or any particular emotion.

As a sort of thesis statement for the show, its first episode opens with a six-minute scene in which Konata, Tsukasa, and Miyuki discuss various ways of eating different types of food. There is no buildup, no joke, no emotional payoff, not even any of the references I've spent this entire essay talking about. There is no progression. The girls discuss how to eat one type of food, then move onto the next. In a way, this scene is a more aggressive challenge to the viewer than the niche references it employs later on. It is a complete surrender to banality.

Even within the context of the slice of life genre, which is full of comfy shows about Cute Girls Doing Cute Things, Lucky☆Star achieves phenomenal laxity. Other popular examples revolve around a specific theme that creates a sense of progression toward an ultimate goal; in K-On!, for instance, the girls are members of a band and work toward a successful performance, even if they spend a lot of their practices slacking off. Alternatively, without a clear theme, these shows might use surreal characters and situations to elevate the show above the mundane, such as in Azumanga Daioh, where a main character is a 10-year-old genius in high school. Or, in the case of Clannad, there might be a romantic angle to the laid-back character interactions.

This is all gone in Lucky☆Star. It has been stripped down past the basics of storytelling, akin to an abstract work of art that is three colors on a canvas. (Or four, in this case.) In this context, even Konata's deep cut animanga references sink to the level of banality, their impenetrability both an abstract confusion and a level of verisimilitude that other works can usually only suggest or evoke when they attempt to grapple with the reality of subculture. (To this end, Lucky☆Star is massively advantaged by its adaptation, as studio Kyoto Animation also made Haruhi Suzumiya and was able to mine its cultural relevance without the usual fear of copyright reprisals, in a prognostication of Ready Player One/Space Jam 2-style pan-brand media crossovers.) Similar to the best abstract art, there is an odd, ungraspable power to the starkness of Lucky☆Star's composition; also similar, much of this power emerges out of the work's context. Not simply its hyper-specific 2007 cultural context, which I've already discussed, but also the way it contextualizes itself internally.

Because I lied when I said the first episode of Lucky☆Star opens with a scene of three girls talking about how they eat different types of food. I'm not even talking about the actual first scene, which is a 10-second quick gag where Konata tells Tsukasa she doesn't join a sports team because it would cut into her free time to watch anime. No, Lucky☆Star opens in episode 1 the same way it opens every episode, with this:

The ambiguous 3 cm? Does that mean it's plushy? Wait! The wrapping is a uniform, argh, it's not an act, pooh Gotta do your best, gotta just do it That's time to catch n' release, eek Between sweat (whoop) sweat (whoop) Darlin', darlin' FREEZE! Kinda lethargic, something's kinda comin' out I love you... oh wait, one of those was different Worrywarts, high metal bars Tasty thoughts... and that's enough! The heated body of that flying you-know-who It's what you'd call a normal girlie Am I the only one surprised? Seconds on pork-bone broth ramen with wire-hard noodles Da da da da da! [Several seconds of indistinguishable chatter] Pom-poms cheer squad Let's get cherry pie [this line is in English] Happy fun welcoming party Look up! Sensation [also English] Yeah! Feeling of existence, dot dot small planet Collided and it melted away, in total awe Go all out to sing, shi-ranger! Take it away! I should be the one who'll be laughing in the end Because I have the sailor suit ← This is my conclusion It's only Monday! Already in a bad mood? What to do? I really prefer the summer outfits ← kya! Wah! Good! (cute!) <3 Until we approach 3 pixels, no hesitations please ☆ Do your best, be energetic My darlin' darlin' please!

The lyrics of Lucky☆Star's OP are nonsense, both in translation and in the original Japanese (and if you don't believe that, the English line "Let's get cherry pie" should be evidence enough). At best, they are a mishmash of schoolgirl concepts and oblique anime references, which at the very least is an accurate reflection of the content of the show. But the presentation is frenetic, erratic, aggressively at odds with the show's lassitude, without any contextualizing remark from Kagami to make it make, even in the abstract, any sort of sense.

Likewise, on the opposite end of the show is its concluding bookend, the Lucky Channel segment. This segment also sharply juxtaposes the show's core content, first in tone -- being far more cynical and meanspirited -- but also in structure. Lucky Channel engages in the exact stakes-driven comedian/straight man dynamic that the show eschews. When the Lucky Channel co-hosts Akira Kogami and Minoru Shiraishi banter, the results are either Minoru's physical or emotional abuse at the hands of Akira, or Akira's humiliation as a failed but narcissistic idol constantly upstaged by the unassuming Minoru. Lucky Channel also has another concept anathema to Lucky☆Star: narrative progression. Minoru grows bolder as the episodes draw on, Akira more violent; in a late episode, a mental breakdown leads to the destruction of the set, which remains destroyed in the final few episodes as Minoru and Akira finally and without reconciliation descend into blistering hatred of one another. At the same time, these segments are the location of some of the show's most indecipherable and multilayered injokes, injokes almost defined by their transience as most stem from a real-life radio show lost to time if you weren't right there listening to them as they went live. This segment is probably the most consistently funny part of Lucky☆Star; that's not because its jokes make sense, but rather the blunt slapstick and Akira's dramatic shifts from ultra-cutesy child idol to chain-smoking world-weary industry cynic.

The effect of the OP and the Lucky Channel segment is to sandwich the sedate, relaxed, mundane central content of Lucky☆Star between chaos, nonsense, and irony. Thus, the inner show contextualizes itself as a retreat from the storm of information and self-reflexivity, despite the fact that it deals directly with these topics. The show's indolence renders them harmless, comprehensible, and nonthreatening. Lucky☆Star is a world where the unknown can be easily and pleasantly demystified; the show's fourth character, Miyuki -- sometimes nicknamed Miwiki -- is an encyclopedic fountain of knowledge whose primary role is to exhaustively explain oddities on the fringes of Japanese culture with a polite and friendly smile. Miyuki is clearly secondary to Konata and the Hiiragi twins in terms of screen time, which gives her the feel of a supporting character despite her main cast billing, with an emphasis on the word "supporting"; like a servant, the other three will, after a conversation among themselves, call her to define some term or idiom. (That this obliging sense of service comes from the richest and most aristocratic character of the cast is another matter.) In Lucky☆Star, information is not chaotic and confusing, the way it is at the show's fringes, or in the "real world", but something that stimulates curiosity and kinship. So many scenes begin with a character saying, "I wonder why...?" followed by speculation and finally an answer. In the absence of plot, progression, or even humor, it's this sense of curiosity that renders Lucky☆Star's mundane scenes compelling. And it is their tonal juxtaposition against chaos that renders them so comfortable, so soothing.

As the internet grows older and more central to everyone's lives, as the headlines everyone talked about last week are forgotten today, Lucky☆Star's expression of retreat and reorder will only continue to become more emotionally satisfying, even as its 2007 references become more dated. What I find most potent in Lucky☆Star, though, is the steadily growing sense of wistfulness it fosters, not through any one scene or tone shift, but through a collection of tiny ones. New cast members are introduced in the second half, which dilutes the presence of the main characters and thins the tight-knit sense of friendship that unified the work. The characters increasingly ruminate on their futures (despite the lack of progression, time does pass linearly, and the show ends with the end of high school on the horizon), always suggesting a "real world" of adulthood lurking behind the corner. The show's artifice is explicitly exposed by the Lucky Channel segments, which metafictionally describe the show as "the show" and the characters as "actors." ("They must all hate each other once the camera stops rolling," Akira cynically suggests.) The ED of the show's first half features the four main girls in a karaoke bar; in the second half, though, this is replaced with live-action footage of the real-life actor Minoru Shiraishi from the Lucky Channel segments. Reality infringes on Lucky☆Star at its corners, slowly creeping inward. Its calm fantasy, a fantasy founded on verisimilitude rather than imagination, is gradually exposed as fake, a production. (Which it always was, no matter how real, how relatable it felt. For all the verisimilitude in its tone, these are characters who are more moe than moe, blobs of cuteness and distorted proportions beyond even the average CGDCT anime.) It ends, in the final episode, as the characters diegetically recreate the frenetic nonsense OP, with them all arrayed on a stage, the curtain rising to white light. And even more ominously, its final ED ends with Minoru Shiraishi intoning a few plaintive notes as he faces a lone and level plain.

This is Lucky☆Star's final shot. This what awaits outside of the show's dewy comfort. Bye-ni.

[starkenobi]

Seven Minutes in Heaven

masterlist — the pitt x avengers crossover masterlist

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Avenger!reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple charity event to get donations for the ED, so how did he end up trapped in a room with a deadly beautiful woman flirting with him as if she hadn't been stabbed?

tags: romcom; explicit make out; jack abbot here is a warning.

word count: 2.3k.

It was supposed to be a simple charity event hosted by some stupid politician. Jack, Robby and Dana were the unlucky chosen ones to go and get donations for the ED. Gloria didn't accept anyone but them, unfortunately, but at least she gave them the monday off, which didn't mean much to them. 

However, Jack could understand Gloria's concern. That place would have swallowed anyone else up as soon as they had stepped foot in the hall. So the three of them mingled, talking to any potential donor, telling stories like great adventures in the ER.

And then he saw you. Red hair cascading down to your hips, a black dress hugging your body. To attentive eyes like his, you stood out from everyone else in that place. You were like distraction incarnate. Jack lost a bit of focus, watching you move through the crowd. Afterwards, he completely forgot what he was supposed to be doing there.

Your eyes found his staring. But when Jack thought you would ignore him and continue whatever it was you were doing, you strayed from your path and you came closer.

“Hello, mister.” You smiled flirtatiously at him. “Do you mind joining me for a drink?”

Were you some rich bored wife? Jack couldn't find any ring. Maybe a businesswoman? He selfishly hoped not, as he didn't want to risk a possible donation when there was clearly flirting. Dammit, he sounded like a moron. 

Against his better judgment, Jack accepted your invitation. Over a glass of champagne, you talked about the basics. What each person did professionally, why they were there at that event, jokes about certain guests and bizarre situations. You were openly teasing and flirting with him, making it hard for him to keep his distance. You looked somewhere over his shoulder for a moment and then around, before shortening the espace between your bodies.

“Wanna take a walk? This mansion is a museum, you know?”

Jack shrugged, because why not? Whatever were your intentions, he knew he wouldn't regret following you. Fuck flattering these people begging for a tiny donation. After three hours of torture there, he deserved some time off.

He knew the mansion tour was an excuse to be alone with him, but it still took him by surprise how you didn't waste any time in finding a bathroom far enough away from the party room.

You pushed him against the wall, body pressing against him. Your right hand tangled in his curls before pulling it to tilt his head down as you licked into his mouth with hunger. His hands gripped your hips, pressing you further into him so he could push one leg between your thighs. You were like fire, consuming him completely and setting him ablaze. It was like a switch being flipped. It wasn't like him to act this way, so shameful, so lost in desire. A need to unwrap you like a goddam present and devour you like his last meal. 

One of his hands slid down, grabbing a handful of your ass to encourage you to rock your hips. You moaned lowly against his mouth, sucking his tongue in retaliation for his ministrations. Your free hand slid down his chest,

He's the first to pull away, only to trail kisses on your neck until he reached your shoulder, using his mouth to slowly slide off the strap of your dress. With the hand still on his hair, you direct his face towards the valley of your breasts in a silent order. Jack chuckles hoarsely, his hand slowly sliding from your hip, planning to slide the top of your dress even further to have more access to your breasts. But the feeling of something wet on your waist - and your hiss - made him stop. 

Jack raised his hand in confusion, his fingers and palm of his hand were tinted red. 

“What the fuck?” He murmured under his breath, stunned.

Letting go of him, you placed one hand on his shoulder for support and held your bloody side with the other. You groaned in amusement, “Well, I guess it wasn’t superficial in the end.”

“Were you stabbed?” Jack looked at you, incredulous. 

He was quick to move you around and lead you to sit on the sink counter. Looking closer, he was able to make out what the black dress was hiding. A deep, bleeding cut. He didn't know how the blood didn't get on his clothes with the way your bodies were pressed together, but that was the last problem on his mind.

“Please, don’t panic.” You pleaded, hands coming to his face and holding him in place. Your thumb stroked his cheek, as if you were trying to calm him down. “I need you to listen to what I'm going to say.”

Jack held back his the desire to ignore your request and proceed with basic aid. Nodding once, he rested his hand on each side of your body on the counter. A frown on his face.

You drew in a long breath, whispering cautiously, “It's obvious that I don't work for a hospital, like you said earlier. That's because I work with the Avengers. People call me Mayhem.”

He didn’t answer right away. Gaze fixed on you, studying you. “The one with a cyberpunk mask?” 

He's asking you that not because he can’t believe you, on the contrary, his question is aimed only to confirm if his thoughts are right. He got the feeling since his eyes landed on you that something was different with you. The confidence you emanated as you walked, even if you were trying not to draw attention. Sensual steps but ready to strike at any moment. You were like those femme fatale he once believed only existed in James Bond movies.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Are you in danger?”

You shook your head. “No one really saw me, just one lucky fucker that had the bright idea to throw a knife in a dark room.”

“So, I'm, what, your alibi?” Jack asked bluntly, he wasn't offended, just curious. 

“No, silly,” you smirked, booping his nose. “You're my reward.”

Jack's lips twitched ever so slightly, arching an eyebrow. “Oh? Did I make that good of a first impression?”

“Hmm, handsome with an edge. You're like a cowboy in a suit.” You were such a flirt, but he knew you were just trying to distract him.

“I'm a cowboy in scrubs, sweetheart, don't forget that.” Jack corrected you, bending over to pick up one of the folded hand towels on the shelves of the counter. Then, without breaking eye contact, he pressed the towel on your side to stop the bleeding. “I have a first-aid kit in my truck, let's go.”

It wasn't a request. It was an order. He took off his suit jacket, depositing on your shoulders and thus concealing the bloodstained towel. You bit your lower lip, eyes fluttering. Obeying without a fuss.

“Wait,” you stopped him close to the door, grabbing by the collar of his shirt. You kissed his jaw, neck and even his collar, then you ran your thumb over the corner of his mouth. “Alright, now we'll look suspiciously fucked.”

Jack, that stayed put waiting for you to finish what you wanted, smirked cocky at you. “Just needed to claim me as yours, huh?”

"And what about it?" You raised a eyebrow.

Shaking his head, Jack chuckled. His hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the bathroom. “We’ll discuss this another time.”

“Alright, cowboy.” You agreed easily, stepping closer to him and making him hold you close to his body.

Sensing your intentions, Jack didn’t shied away from you as you two walked down the hallway. Walking past some people who were at the charity event, a bearded man and a blonde woman were the only ones who stared at you and Jack. A surprised look on their faces, indicating that they knew Jack. However, he ignored the existence of the two and continued walking with you. Oh, they were his friends. You smiled at them.

“Behave, sweetheart.” Jack warned, tilting his head to murmur the words into your hair.

“Oh, I’m behaving.” You started, but your attention was pulled towards the politician's security guards whose information you stole. One of them with a terrible bleeding nose. “We need to go.”

“Hm, thought you said something about not having been seen?”

Despite his words, Jack pulled you closer and kissed your neck before increasing his steps. To anyone looking from the outside, it just looked like a possibly drunk and horny couple. Leaving the mansion quickly, Jack led you to his truck. In the dark parking lot, you ripped off the wig you were wearing and threw it under a random car. Jack did a double take when he noticed what you were doing.

“You never cease to amaze me.” He joked, opening the passager door and helping you get inside the truck. “Let's go to a quieter place so I can take care of you.”

You nodded, watching his every move quietly. He didn’t mind your staring. Both of you sighed in relief when you were far away from the event. Jack quickly found an empty parking lot to stop, getting the first aid kit before turning to you. Without saying anything, you took his jacket suit off and threw to the back seat,the towel was quickly discharged to the truck’s floor. Then, you slowly slid the straps of the dress off your shoulders and let the fabric fall to your hips.

Jack watched everything mesmerized. Swallowing hard, he forced his eyes away from your nipples and began to patch you up. The cut wasn't as deep as he had imagined, but something seemed a bit off. Again.

He felt your fingers find his hair once more, tugging slightly at his curls.

Your stab wound suddenly seemed shallow. Jack blinked. Closing and opening his eyes a couple of times before he slowly raised his head.

“You-”

“I’m sorry, cowboy, left out a silly detail. Yeah, I’m a super soldier.” You interrupted him, tilting your head to kiss the corner of his mouth. Smiling when he didn’t pull away. “But in my defense, I was horny and just wanted to get out of there with you.”

Jack drew in a long breath, closing the first aid kit and throwing on the back seat. With his hands free, he held your hip with one hand and the other he slid up your neck. A faint smirk crossed his lips. “You don't like easy, do you?”

“No, I like it hard and roug-”

He didn’t let you finish the sentence, kissing you hungrily and demanding. With agility and grace, you pushed him to sit down as you climbed onto his lap. Your lips still glued to his, breaking only when you ripped a moan out of him. Trailing your kisses down his jaw and neck, you bit possessively and rocked your hips against his hardening cock.

Something vibrated in your thigh, that you initially tried to ignore, but then groaned when it kept vibrating. Breaking the kiss, you pecked his lips before pulling a cellphone that was stuck to your thigh from the slit in your dress. Cursing under your breath as you saw who was calling. You answered with a hiss, then you started speaking in a language that he had no idea what was going on. Was it russian? Well, it was sexy to watch at least.

You ended the call after ten minutes, slumped shoulders and a tired expression on your face like the conversation didn’t end well. “I’m sorry.”

“Let me take you out another time.” Jack stated, putting your dress in place without saying anything about it. He knew how to read the room.

You sighed, tilting your head to rest your forehead against his. “Are you sure you want another time?”

“All the time you want to give me.” Jack wanted to kiss you again, but opted to offer you a sincere smile.

Which you responded with a mischievous smile. “Oh, be sure that from today on I will always want to give it to you.”

“You’re impossible.” He grumbled with no heat.

A knock on the window made both of you jump apart. Standing next to the truck the one and only Winter Soldier, an expressionless face. “Hello, perv citizen. Mayhem, we need to go.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him your middle finger until he disappeared into the darkness of the parking lot.

“Sorry, cowboy.” You whispered, kissing Jack’s lips and sighing. “See you on our date.”

Jack held your face, so he could kiss you one last time. “Try to keep out of trouble.”

“No promises.” you kissed back, not wanting to leave yet.

“Mayhem!” Bucky howled like a weirdo in the dark.

Knowing there was no way to postpone the farewell, Jack opened the door of his truck and nodded his head. “Go.”

And just like that he watched you disappear into the night. It felt like a cruel erotic dream in the days that followed. But it was real, damn real. Dana and Robby tried in vain to get some information from him, but he kept everything close to his heart.

Was it possible to fall in love in a single interaction? Jack felt kind of stupid to be going through this at his age. Days became weeks, and for a moment the thought that you wouldn't come back crossed his mind.

And then, after one tiresome night shift, he came home to find you inside his kitchen. Making breakfast like it was something normal. Like it was a fucking routine. Saying shit like welcome home and kissing him good morning. It was a cliché he never imagined he would be a part of, but if it was with you… He didn’t mind one bit.

Thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated!

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Natal-Synastry: Loving, Good & Nurturing Moms Placements & Aspects “ I Love My Mommy”

There’s no feeling quite like the love of a mother who feels like home—a mother who didn’t just birth you into this world, but who built you year by year, shaping you into the person you are today. There’s nothing like a mother whose presence is steeped in memory—the sweet scent of her baked goods, the warm aroma of her cooking.

Nothing like resting your head on her chest, where her body becomes a cushion—a soft place to land. There’s nothing like a mother who holds you as you cry, watching your tears fall with care, gently wiping them away as she looks deeply into your eyes.

There’s nothing like a mother who doesn’t call you by your first name, but instead uses a sweet nickname that carries echoes of your childhood. Nothing like a mother who anticipates your needs before you even voice them, making you feel safe just by being near.

There’s nothing like a mother who seeks to understand you, not judge you—who is curious about your soul, fascinated by who you are. Nothing like a mother who plants strength within you, who becomes your foundation.

There’s nothing like a mother whose support is unmatched, whose words rise up in your mind when you’re feeling low, lifting you with their remembered warmth.

There is nothing like a mother. Mothers are incredibly important. And there is nothing like a great one: nurturing, loving, supportive, wise, spiritual. But we don’t get to choose our mothers. We are birthed into this world—souls so eager for the human experience that we don’t always mind where we land.

And sometimes, we are lucky enough to land in the most perfect cushion. All our soul’s desires, longings, and yearnings reflected back to us in the eyes of our mother.

Today, we’re going to explore the astrological placements and aspects that symbolize a nurturing and loving mother—the kind of mother every soul hopes to meet upon entering the womb.

Moon in Cancer in the 4th house

This placement exudes a strongly maternal, nurturing energy. Cancer is at home in the womb, making their nurturing instincts feel completely natural. They are natural givers and providers, and being there for others is deeply emotionally satisfying for them. With the Moon in the 4th house, their emotions are closely tied to their home, and the idea of parenthood holds great significance in their lives. It’s a core value for them. They strive to bring emotional warmth, nurturance, and care into their home, making it a sanctuary. These individuals are committed to creating a beautiful, supportive environment for their children, offering nourishing meals, hosting playdates, and inviting family members to their home often. They go out of their way to make their home cozy and inviting, always ensuring it smells sweet and feels welcoming. They’re deeply involved in their children’s lives, constantly checking in and providing emotional guidance. While they may sometimes become overbearing, it comes from a place of protection. These parents never want to let their children go; they keep the door always open for them.

Moon in Cancer in the 5th house

Parents with this placement combine nurturing energy with fun, lighthearted support. They are deeply protective and encouraging of their children’s dreams and goals, supporting their children’s ideals and ambitions. These parents balance playfulness with firm boundaries when necessary, creating a fun, carefree atmosphere where their child’s joy and well-being are central. They are very involved in their children’s happiness, aiming to provide them with a wonderful childhood. These parents place great importance on family and often have several children, nurturing sibling bonds and creating a close-knit, joyful family dynamic.

Cancer Rising

Cancer Rising parents project a nurturing, motherly energy that resonates deeply with children, animals, and anyone in need of care. They create a calm, comforting environment at home, always working to ensure their family feels connected and supported. They are protective, always striving to spend quality time with their children and create a strong family unit. With a natural inclination to provide comfort, Cancer Rising individuals are deeply present and attentive, always focused on creating a loving and harmonious home.

Cancer Stellium

A Cancer Stellium, with three or more personal planets in Cancer, amplifies the nurturing, maternal qualities of this sign. These parents are incredibly nurturing in diverse ways. They provide emotional support, warmth, and loving expression. With the Sun in Cancer, they express themselves lovingly and sentimentally; with Mercury in Cancer, they speak sweetly and empathetically to their children. This stellium allows parents to nurture their children across emotional, intellectual, and practical dimensions, offering a well-rounded and deeply caring presence.

Venus in Cancer

Venus in Cancer represents a deeply loving, protective parent. Venus governs love, and Cancer is inherently nurturing, so this combination creates a mother who is tender, supportive, and emotionally connected to her children. This parent may become enmeshed with their child’s emotions at times, but it comes from an immense love and care. They create a safe haven at home, where their child feels unconditional love and can be their authentic self. This mother provides comfort through meals, nurturing, and physical affection, ensuring their child always feels cared for.

Taurus Moon in the 5th house

A Taurus Moon in the 5th house is the kind of mother who meets her children’s practical needs while also being a source of fun and inspiration. This mother provides security and stability—ensuring meals are served on time, the home is comfortable, and the family is financially secure. At the same time, she is playful, encouraging her children to express themselves creatively and enjoy life. She balances energy and relaxation, creating a grounded yet energetic environment. This mother also enjoys spoiling her children, creating joyful experiences, and nurturing them with love and abundance.

Virgo Moon in the 4th house

A Virgo Moon in the 4th house is the mother who keeps everything in perfect order. The home will always be clean, organized, and efficiently run. This mother takes great care in providing quality food, ensuring health and well-being, and solving any practical concerns her children may have. Her nurturing extends beyond just physical care; she also provides emotional warmth and stability, balancing her practical nature with emotional support. This is a mother who will go the extra mile to make sure her children are taken care of, creating a sense of security and tradition in the home.

Capricorn Moon in the 5th house

Contrary to the stereotype of a distant Capricorn Moon, this placement is about providing structure, discipline, and stability while also allowing for creativity and freedom. These parents are focused on setting their children up for success, ensuring they excel in school and in life. They create routines and instill discipline, but they also embrace creativity and fun, balancing structure with flexibility. This mother will support her children’s endeavors and offer rewards for their achievements, while also guiding them through failures with love and encouragement. She combines a no-nonsense attitude with a deep desire for her children’s happiness and success.

Jupiter in Cancer in the 4th house

These parents are nurturing, enthusiastic, and focused on family growth. Whether they’re stay-at-home mothers or working outside the home, they pour all their energy into their family. They are joyful and optimistic, ensuring their children grow up in an environment filled with love, wisdom, and opportunity. They are focused on expanding their family, whether through having more children or building a legacy. These mothers pass down wisdom and knowledge, offering guidance and encouragement. They want their children to see the world, experience different cultures, and be open to new possibilities. They are their children’s greatest cheerleaders, always supporting and nurturing them with love and joy.

Moon-Sun

When the Moon and Sun are in aspect, a woman’s identity is closely tied to motherhood. She often feels that nurturing others is her true purpose and finds fulfillment in the role of a mother. These individuals identify deeply with their emotions and their maternal role, making them exceptionally nurturing and dedicated to their children.

Moon-Venus

Those with the Moon and Venus in aspect have a natural ability to nurture through love. They are givers, always seeking harmony and comfort in their relationships. These mothers are emotionally attuned to their children, always making them feel loved and protected. Their nurturing energy is infused with deep affection and tenderness.

Moon-Mars

These mothers are fiercely protective of their children. They are not afraid to fight for their kids, whether physically or emotionally. They work hard to provide for their children and will go to great lengths to ensure their well-being. These mothers are ambitious and driven, always striving to give their children the best possible life.

Ceres-Moon

These mothers have a deeply loving presence. They are emotionally attuned to their children and care profoundly about their children’s inner worlds. They feel deeply fulfilled by spending quality time with their children and often express love through acts of service. They show up with unwavering support, pouring love into their children like no other. These are the mothers who make home feel truly like home. They listen attentively, offer constant affection, and create a space of safety and warmth. These women embody the very essence of the mother archetype—quintessential nurturers in every sense.

Leo Venus/Moon

This placement reflects a mother who radiates warmth, high energy, and a joyful, playful spirit. She allows her inner child to come alive around her children, which creates a magnetic and supportive bond. Her presence is inviting, and her children naturally gravitate toward her. She is a beacon of encouragement, pouring belief and affirmation into her children. She instills confidence and inspires creativity, always urging them to pursue their dreams. Family is deeply important to her. She cherishes shared experiences—celebrations, outings, and moments of togetherness. She brings beauty, fun, and cohesion to the family. At the same time, she challenges the status quo and offers a fresh, creative perspective. She shows her children how to think outside the box, adding her own flair and originality to family life.

Earth Sun / Water Moon

This mother blends structure with sensitivity. She knows how to establish discipline and boundaries, yet she’s also deeply attuned to her children’s emotional needs. She is a grounding presence—reliable, steady, and wise. Her children come to her not only for guidance and practical support, but also for emotional comfort and understanding. She has an intuitive sense for when something is wrong, gently probing and offering space when needed, while always reaffirming that she’s there. She often nurtures a connection to nature, instilling in her children a sense of rootedness and presence. She teaches them emotional intelligence and self-regulation, modeling how to stay centered through life’s ups and downs. This is a mother who brings harmony, stability, and enduring wisdom.

Moon-Saturn

This mother can weather any storm. She is the family’s foundation, always looking toward the future. She is a quality-over-quantity type of mother, one who cares deeply about creating a stable and meaningful legacy for her children. At her best, she is nurturing, wise, and disciplined. While she can become deeply involved in her children’s lives—sometimes overly so—it comes from a desire to build a lasting, honorable future for them. She teaches responsibility, commands respect, and is known for her calm, steady energy. Her children may not be intimidated by her, but they understand her boundaries and know not to cross them. She sacrifices willingly, works diligently, and pours herself into the wellbeing of her family. She is the glue that holds the household together, consistently choosing love, duty, and long-term vision over fleeting desires.

Mercury-Moon

This one’s kind of unexpected, but Mercury-Moon can symbolize a relationship that’s emotionally communicative and harmonious. The two people—especially the mother and her children—are expressive together. This could manifest as a mother who gives her children words of affirmation, speaks life into them, articulates her thoughts clearly, and understands where they’re coming from emotionally. Conversations are productive and solution-oriented, often bringing emotional resolution. She may be the type of mother who can intuitively sense her children’s needs—reading their emotions like a book—meeting them without the children needing to ask. This aspect often leads to healthy, emotionally attuned communication between parent and child.

Sun-Ascendant

This suggests a very cheerful, vibrant mother—full of life and light. With the Sun touching the Ascendant, she carries a sense of vitality and a well-rounded personality. She’s exciting and expressive, and the way she engages with her children fills them with warmth. Her presence awakens their playfulness and makes them feel safe being themselves. She’s not only in tune with her own essence but also highly attuned to her children, creating a joyful emotional environment.

Sun-Venus

Venus brings beauty and love, and the Sun adds warmth and expression. Together, they describe a mother who is tender, expressive, and deeply affectionate. She might leave love notes, journal her feelings, give small tokens of appreciation, or decorate in thoughtful ways that make her children feel adored. She verbalizes her love freely, offers physical affection, and is emotionally present when her children are hurting. She’s generous, perhaps even indulgent, and wants her children to feel cherished. She may also be active on social media, proudly expressing her love for them publicly. This is a warm, sweet, and down-to-earth mother who radiates a naturally lovable personality.

Venus-Saturn

This is the mother who is both the heart and the backbone of the family—the glue that holds everyone together. She’s loving and kind, but also protective and grounded. She instills values, creates the emotional atmosphere of the home, and works hard to make life stable for her children. She wants them to feel good about themselves, to experience beauty, and to grow up secure—emotionally and financially. She balances her responsibilities gracefully, coming home from work only to shed her burdens and nurture her family with warmth and care. She’s reliable, affectionate, and emotionally steady. She feels like home. She might be beautiful inside and out, admired for how well she carries it all. She’s not chaotic—she’s a grounding force.

Chiron-Moon

When positively aspected, this speaks to a mother who has done the inner work—who has healed her own wounds and is breaking generational trauma. She brings emotional wisdom to the family, creating a new legacy of emotional presence and safety. She is grounded, emotionally intelligent, and deeply intuitive. She can navigate complexity with grace and wisdom, and her healing presence bonds the family together in a way that feels sacred. She doesn’t just nurture—she transforms.

Moon-North Node

This is a deeply spiritual mother. She may not be religious, but she radiates spiritual awareness and protection. Her parenting style is intuitive, non-traditional, and rooted in wisdom. She views her children not as extensions of herself, but as souls with their own journeys. She feels called to guide them, awaken them, and help them realize how vast life truly is. She brings the future into focus and inspires their dreams, creativity, and spiritual gifts. Her presence expands her children’s inner and outer worlds.

4th House Stellium

This mother is devoted to home and family. She creates a cozy, emotionally safe atmosphere, and deeply nurtures the space she lives in. Traditions matter to her—movie nights, cuddle time, holiday rituals, family check-ins. She’s the organizer of reunions and gatherings, the heart of domestic life. She’s deeply protective and emotionally attuned, often anticipating her children’s needs before they even express them. She might warm up a blanket in the dryer on a cold day or bake your favorite cookies when she sees you’re down. She intuitively knows how to comfort.

5th House Stellium

These mothers are hands-on, joyful, and enthusiastic about parenting. They’re the ones cheering at games, attending performances, throwing parties, and creating unforgettable experiences. Holidays are vibrant and fun. This mother laughs a lot, encourages creativity, and celebrates individuality. She parents in unique ways—through affirmation, spontaneity, and emotional freedom. She may not be strict, but she creates an environment where her children thrive emotionally and feel free to be themselves.

6th House Stellium in Cancer, Taurus, or Pisces

These mothers show up—consistently, lovingly, and with deep dedication. With Cancer, she’s soft-spoken, nurturing, and affirming. She pours into her family daily, making sure everyone feels loved and cared for. With Taurus, she is grounding and dependable. She brings emotional and financial stability. Her children never have to worry about their basic needs—she always finds a way. With Pisces, she is intuitive and emotionally attuned. She checks in often, supports dreams, and adds creativity and magic to daily life. She doesn’t want her children to live average lives—she wants to sprinkle beauty and wonder into everything they do.

[imsogonesposts]

I Only Threw This Party for You

|| ao3 || steve masterlist || requests are open!! || an: based on the song "party 4 u" by charli xcx ||

summary: When the two of you were dating, you would go to every party every weekend with Steve. Now that you’ve broken up, he’s thrown a party in hopes of you making an appearance. (wc: 1429)

warnings: mentions of underage drinking, partying, great gatsby spoilers, i talk about the great gatsby despite never reading/seeing it, king steve, and i think thats it!!

Steve Harrington was known for many things. For his hair, his looks, his endless flirting, his parties.  In fact, the words “Steve Harrington,” and “parties” were practically synonymous.  If someone wanted to find Steve Harrington, one of the first places they knew to check was this weekend’s party.

He never went to parties alone though. He had always brought you along with him, not so he could have a girl on his arm, but because he wanted to spend time with you. And even though you never liked any of the parties Steve took you to (they were always too loud, with too many drunk, uncoordinated teenagers, and not enough space to do much of anything), you always accompanied him to each party because you wanted to spend time with your boyfriend as well, even if it meant being at a party you hated. 

It seemed though that Steve never quite got the memo that you never liked the parties as much as he did, because now he’s throwing a party in his too-empty house, leaning against the counter as he watches everyone around him get drunk, dance, and have fun, as his eyes are trained to the door, willing you to come inside as he ignores every girl that thinks they now have a chance with him now that he’s freshly single. But none of them are you. 

The two of you had broken up almost a week ago, with you telling him how his friends treated you horribly, and you couldn’t deal with being “King Steve’s” girlfriend anymore. That you didn’t like the popularity or the parties or the constant stares whenever the two of you were together in the halls. 

At first, Steve had thought you were bluffing, you always seemed to be having fun at the parties he took you to, but as the hours grew longer, and Steve downed water after water (not beer, in case you showed up, he wanted to talk to you completely sober) Steve started to realize he might have been wrong. Maybe you really didn’t like the parties, maybe this party that he threw for you was all for nothing. You weren’t going to show, not only did you not like parties, but even if you did, why would you go to one hosted by your ex?

Steve felt so stupid. 

He remembers you telling him about “The Great Gatsby,” a book you had to read for your English class, and how Gatsby would throw parties in hopes of getting Daisy’s attention, and Steve can’t help but feel like him. Steve can’t remember if Gatsby’s parties ever worked in his favor, but god did he wish it would work for him. He was slowly starting to understand how you felt at parties, why you probably didn’t like them. Because without you here to keep him company and kiss him stupid, there really was no point. He felt like he could be drowned by the loud music filling the house as he watched the people around him laugh and dance and drink their hearts away. The stench of alcohol reached his nose and it almost made him sick. 

He can’t believe he ever used to think any of this was fun.

***

You had heard about the party Steve had thrown over the weekend. You heard it was fun until something pissed Steve off enough that he had kicked everyone out of his house. 

The selfish part of you thought good, why is he throwing a party so quickly after you had just broken up? While the calmer, still quietly falling for Steve part couldn’t help but question is everything alright? He never turned down a party before.

You had closed your locker with a sigh, only to be startled by a tall figure holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers over his face, slowly lowering it to reveal himself to be Steve. 

“Hey,” he whispered out. 

“Hi,” you replied with a confused look. 

Steve only sighed, leaning against the lockers as he took you in, looking at you as if it was the last time he’d get to see you, and he was scared it would be. That after right now, the only time he would ever get to see you again would be through stolen glances from across the hall. He couldn’t let that happen. 

“I’m sorry,” he started off, eyes now trained onto your shoes as if scared to see what your reaction would be. “I was a shitty boyfriend, and I was stupid and blind, and didn’t realize what I had right in front of me, and I’m sorry for… for everything.”

Steve only risks a glance up, meeting your eyes, when you stay silent for what he thinks to be far too long. 

“I’m sorry,” he quietly repeats. 

“I heard you threw a party,” is all you respond, and Steve feels a part of him deflate at that. He just poured his heart out, apologized, and you want to talk about the party?

Steve nods with a sigh. “Yeah, it was stupid. It was for you, but it was stupid, I know you don’t like that crap. I’m sorry if you ever felt like you had to go to the parties cause of me.”

You furrow your brows at his confession. “What do you mean it was for me?” You ask.

Steve only shrugs, the flowers in his hand moving along with his movement as he scratches the back of his neck out of nervousness. “I don’t know, I was kinda hoping you’d show up or something, like in ‘The Great Gatsby.’”

“You didn’t read ‘The Great Gatsby,’ you reply as Steve shrugs with a small smile. It was true, he hardly ever paid attention in his English class, and had fallen asleep during most of the class readings.

“No,” he replies, “I didn’t, but I do listen when you talk to me, believe it or not.”

And despite yourself, something inside of you warms at that, and you can’t help but let out a small smile. “You know Gatsby and Daisy don’t end up together right?”

He did not know that. “I know,” Steve replies, eyes moving to the bouquet he was still holding. “Doesn’t mean the party thing isn’t kind of romantic.”

“Is this your way of trying to get back together with me?” You ask as Steve sighs.

“It’s my way of apologizing,” he replies, moving his gaze from the flowers to you, looking at you with nothing but sincerity and sorrow in his eyes. “I’m not expecting you to take me back at the first apology, but I wanted you to know that I was sorry, and that I dropped most of my old friends. Including Tommy and Carol.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in shock at that. “You what?”

“They were a bunch of assholes,” Steve calmly replies with a small shrug. Tommy and Carol had been one of the main reasons the two of you had broken up. You didn’t like how they treated you, treated Steve, or treated those around them, and he dropped them, just like that.

“I forgive you,” is all you can reply as Steve breaks out into a wide grin. 

“Yeah?” He asks, an almost boyish smile across his face. 

You nod with a smile, hesitantly taking his hand in yours before taking the bouquet of flowers in your free hand. “You can make it all up to me by taking me to the diner? Friday?”

Steve interlocks his fingers through yours, like your hands were a lock and key, meant to fit together, as he nods happily. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll pick you up.” He then raises his right hand, the one not holding your own hand, and tells you, “and no more parties, no more Tommy and Carol, none of it, Scout’s Honor.”

You can’t help but laugh at his dramatics. 

“You don’t need to stop going to parties, Steve,” you tell him, as he shakes his head no, squeezing your hand once again with a smile. 

“Are you kidding? Parties are boring as hell without you. I’d rather be doing literally anything else, so long as you’re there.” 

And with that, you move to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling his smile grow as your lips touch his skin. 

“See you later, Stevie,” you reply as you walk in the opposite direction to your class. 

Steve’s smile can only grow even more, if that’s even possible, as he hears you call him the nickname he thought he’d never get to hear from you again. 

[roc-haze]

I have noticed you have a theme with the song titled for chapters… any chance you listen to Lizzy Mcalpine or Phoebe Bridgers? They would be perfect for something angsty

Also pls write for Harry!!

Girl…. I got you.

—

Pushing It Down and Praying | WillNE

Bit angsty. Mentions of reader in an unhappy relationship.

—-

It was just one of those weeks.

Work was shit. Coworkers snapping at each other as the end of financial year rolled around and chaos ensued. Stepping on eggshells around friends as they wrap themselves up in their children, husbands and incredible careers. Your relationship on the brink of ending.

Now here you were, sitting in the shared flat of Arthur Hill, Chris and George. Arthur had decided to throw a small party at their place to celebrate an entirely sold out tour. He’d somehow assembled a motley crew of friends last minute.

George, ever the host, had enlisted you as his guinea pig while he made his way through a “how to: cocktail” book. So far, you’d consumed several attempts at a cosmo and even more so at an espresso martini. George had been keeping a watchful eye after catching you trying to secretly pour a martini into the closest house plant. In doing so, he’d caught the longing glances exchanged between yourself and Will. For the majority of the night, he’d been stood on the opposite side of the room chatting with Simon and Josh.

“Not to sound like a prick Y/N, but where’s Alex?” George pressed. “You guys have been together for what feels like years and he barely makes an appearance. Do you just not invite him?”.

You spun your straw around the mojito George had just slid across the table. “I do invite him. He just prefers to stay at home and relax after work.”

Unbeknownst to you, Talia and Freya had slowly made their way across the room, sensing a sudden shift in the atmosphere between yourself and George.

George pursed his lips. “Do you love him?”.

A sudden warmth spread over your shoulder as Talia squeezed it reassuringly. “Give it a rest, George.. she’s come straight from work. Let her chill before you interrogate her.”

You looked up at Talia. “Thank you.”

“Why don’t we all go sit somewhere and have a gossip?” She suggested, gently pulling you off of the bar stool you had been occupying all night. Talia’s solution was the couch area - which was otherwise empty apart from Bach and Chris taking up residence in the recliners across from you. You sat on the end of the couch, Talia in the middle seat and Freya on the opposite end.

Freya hesitated to voice her thoughts, as though she were trying to tread lightly. “I worry about you, Y/N. I know how tough work is at the moment and I hate thinking that you’re going home feeling unloved.”

You took a breath before responding. “I’ve thought about leaving but it’s not like he’s doing anything to me. He doesn’t yell… or try to scare me. It’s like we just live separate lives comfortably. If I leave, I have to start all over again.”

Talia took your hand in her own. “Just because he keeps you safe doesn’t mean he keeps you happy. You can be comfortable and have someone you’re excited to share it with.”

The girls rationalised for the next 30 minutes, offering their support and solutions. We’ll be there with the moving truck. You don’t have to do it alone.

By this time, Bach and Chris had weighed in, concerned about their friend.

Excusing yourself to the ensuite bathroom in George’s room, Chris followed. As you knelt up against the vanity, he stood in the doorway. “Listen, Y/N. I don’t normally weigh in on your life. I can understand that you keep things under wraps because you don’t want it out there for the world to see. I get that.” He took a breath. “I just think that, when it’s just us, you deserve to have a partner you can brag about. Someone who loves you the way you deserve. There’s a whole group of men in there who’d happily take Alex’s place.”

You laughed in an attempt to dissolve the tension. “You’re full of shit, Chris.”

“Yeah? I’ll send both of the Arthur’s in here to change your mind.” A grin spread across his face, before pulling you into a tight embrace. One of those truly tear inducing hugs. An ‘I’ve got you’ hug. “I’m gonna give you a minute. Seems like you might need a break from all the emotions.”

“Thanks, Chris. Love ya.” You blew a kiss at him as he left the room, making a catching motion on the way out.

You’d been alone in the ensuite for all of 5 seconds when Will’s head poked around the corner.

“Hello, my friend.” He grinned cheekily, standing against the door.

“You look like you’re up to no good.” You had laughed, the grin painting his face looking a little too mischievous.

He pulled a bottle of red wine out from behind his back, presenting it to you. “Might be a silly idea, but why don’t we just sit in the bath, chat shit and drink this expensive wine I copped from Mr Calfreezy?”.

In response, you took your shoes off and jumped into the empty bath, extending a hand to Will.

Once you were safely in your respective ends of the bath, knees touching, he unscrewed the cap and extended the wine bottle to you. “You’ve had a tough week. You go first.”

Taking a sip (or a gulp for that matter), you passed the bottle back. “What’s happening in your world this week, Mr Lenney?”.

“Both of my editors are sick so I’ve gone back to the good old days of editing my own videos. Went on a shit date. Buuuutttt… I set a new PB for a half marathon. And now I’m hanging out with you, so it’s not all bad.” He winked, taking a sip too and passing the bottle back. “What’s happening with you?”.

“The usual. End of financial year causing chaos. Working too much. Going home to what feels like a loveless marriage… and we’re not even married.” You laughed, the weight of your friends’ words heavy on your shoulders.

The room grew quiet. “My intention was to come in here and try to take your mind off of it, but can I just say one thing?”.

You met his eyes. “Yeah. I value your opinion.”

“I’m not going to tell you to leave. If I do, it’s just going to push you away. I’ve done the whole starting over thing and it is fucking scary, but I’m much happier now that I’ve moved forward. So, I just want you to know that I care about you. And when things feel much less intimidating, you just call and I’ll answer.” Will leaned forward, laying a hand gently on her knee.

You hesitated. “This probably sounds like it makes no sense… but I feel guilty for not feeling guilty. Like my motivation for staying with Alex is because it’s familiar and I just don’t feel like uprooting my life right now. Not because I have this desire to be with him forever and wanna work on our relationship. It’s literally just convenient for me to stay in the same flat and not have to do the getting to know you phase all over again.”

Will laughed. “Gonna be honest. I know the whole getting to you know you part is the best bit, but I think I will start throwing tables on dates if people keep asking what my favourite colour is.”

The two of you shared a giggle, before you reached a sudden realisation. “I haven’t been with anyone except Alex in years. I’m gonna be like a virgin again.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Will took a swig in between thoughts. “At least you might get some decent break up sex when you leave.”

You sighed. “I doubt it. It’s pretty underwhelming as is. I think that’s what happens when you transition from partners to roommates.”

“You poor thing… well, do me a favour. Feel free to charm up Freezy so we can have more bath chats on his dime. The man knows his way around a bottle of red.” Will joked.

“I think he’d smell the ulterior motive from a mile away… Freezy and I have had many a night on the red.”

Will’s eyes lit up, holding in his laughter. “I still remember when he stacked it at the tube station and you bandaged him back up with the Peppa Pig plasters.”

Time seemed to pass too quickly. Throughout the night, George’s ensuite attracted a few visitors keen for a gossip - Harry and Lux shared a few sips of wine in exchange for not tattling on them to Freezy. Arthur Hill drunkenly told Y/N how incredibly gorgeous she is, to which she replied with “better write a song about me then darling”. Becky had planned on an Irish goodbye, but stopped in to kiss both of their foreheads before slipping out the front door.

They covered several different topics - flat earthers, Premier League, how to: YouTube Adsense, Will’s weird beef with Chappell Roan, the newest Netflix crime series, The 1975’s best tracks, ultimate routes for marathons. Their friendship had always been that way - easy, kind, forthcoming.

It was about 12am when George came into the bathroom, kicking the two of them out. Though the party was continuing on, the two decided their social battery had hit its limit for the night. Giggling and unable to walk in a straight line, they naturally decided to link arms and walk back to their respective flats.

They were stood in front of Y/N’s apartment complex, hugging goodbye, when Will stepped forward. His eyes flickered to her lips momentarily, before he stepped back and assessed the situation. “Oh fuck. Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’ve made it weird now.”

“No, you haven’t. I just need some time to figure out my shit first. It’s not fair to Alex.” You smiled up at him.

“I know. I meant what I said.” His gaze hardened, looking straight at Y/N, as if to say ‘I really did mean it’.

“Okay. If I call…” she trailed off.

“I’ll answer.” He dug his hands in his jacket pockets, nodding firmly. As she dug her keys out of her bag, he turned back to the path, ready to continue his walk back home.

“Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

“Text me when you’re home safe.”

“I will. Don’t forget to call.” He grinned.

“Don’t forget to answer.” And with that, she walked inside.

A week later, she called.

——

A/N:

A nice little slightly angsty one shot for this adorable anon request and one of my fave moots, @octaneink ⭐️ she and @bethorwhateverr are very much keeping my Will fic writing inspo alive at the moment.

As per, feel free to pop any suggestions in my ask box.

Vibe of the fic very loosely based on this track! Hope it was what you envisioned ❤️ https://open.spotify.com/track/0Exki6SgSuYfWQDP0npFlF?si=eZCA2st4Qme-XVFqbTIPpw

[devswritingcornerorsmth]

Stress. (Dorian/Reader Oneshot)

VERY self-indulgent dorian oneshot work keeps kicking my ass and a hoe cant do this no more

might be a lil ooc so sorry about that

---

"Alright, what happened now? Was it that bloke again?" Dorian asked, sitting next to you on the couch near your legs. You were currently sprawled out over it, still in uniform and face-first into the pillows. Work was... work. Annoying, and filled with stupid people who would gladly give your life for a fifty-cent raise.

You flinch when you feel Dorian's hands on your back, gently starting to massage your shoulders. You sigh and shake your head.

"No... It's both the new girl and the GM. I understand she's new, but you put a person on hold to turn and ask: 'Hey, I keep trying to put in their request but it's asking for a phone number, what do I do?' I dunno, maybe fuckin' ask them for one?! 'Where do I put these papers?' Where have you put them the last seven fucking times?!" You exclaim, becoming frustrated at the memory of their stupidity. "I really, *really* don't mean to be mean or rude, but GOD, just use your brain."

Dorian listens silently, continuing to rub your back. He moves and shifts so that your head now rests on his lap, his hand on your shoulder and holding you close.

"'m sorry, luv. You don't deserve that, no one does." He replies softly. "Why don't I order some food an' we can sit 'n watch the telly while we relax, hm?"

You nod, briefly wondering how Telly was doing at the mention of watching TV. Instead of moving, Dorian stays, eyes never leaving your form as he tries to comfort you with his touch and silence.

"I'm so tired of this job... it feels like nothing I do is ever enough for them." You murmur, turning so that you face Dorian. He frowned, eyes turning to worry at your exhausted expression.

"There's a host position opening up at the club I work at if you want to join me there." Dorian offered, carefully threading his fingers through your hair.

"I don't want to work with people anymore, Dorian... they're all... too much." You sigh, closing your eyes as you lean into Dorian's touch. He hums in response, trying to think of ways to help you. He hated seeing you like this, stressed and exhausted, instead of that lovely smile he'd kill for.

"Maybe you could get in contact with Celia or Volt and Eddie? 'm sure they'd be happy to give you a job." He suggested. "Penelope or Holly might be able to help, too. Hell, maybe even Willi."

You think Dorian's words over, going over every object turned human who would be glad to help you. Nodded, you sit up, leaning back against the couch cushions.

"Yeah... I'll talk with a few of them. See if they have anything better for me." Dorian smiles at your words, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and giving you a half-hug.

"Great. Lemme go get us somethin' to eat an' then we can do whatever ya want."

"Whatever I want?" You question with a smirk, hinting at something more.

"Of course, luv." Dorian replied, a cheeky grin forming on his lips. "Whatever you want."

---

god i suck at writing endings mb mb.

once again VERY self-indulgent but too nervous to write for a s/i or oc lol

anyways thanks for reading, stay safe and happy mwah

[absurdthirst]

Fucking Fungus {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dub con, post apocalyptic world, scavenging, guilt, shame, desire, Joel having a bad attitude, mentions of periods, rough sex, neediness, unprotected sex, cream pie

Comments: Coming across Wymore, NE, you hoped to find some much needed supplies for the coming winter but you find that the fungus has mutated in dangerous and frightening ways. Needing to insure that there are more hosts to infect in a very basic kind of way.

🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉Happy Birthday @storiesofthefandomlovers!!!! I love you and hope you have the best damn day! In thotty tradition, here is a sex pollen to celebrate another year around the sun!🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The world has changed in the past twenty years. None of it for the betterment of humanity. The crunch of the dried leaves grinds under your boots and your head rotates left and then right as you watch, listen. Waiting for any sign of life or more importantly, danger. The weight of your rifle is heavy in your hands, although you hold it down, unassuming but ready to be lifted at a second’s notice. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just hook it over your shoulder.” Ellie snorts, her backpack bouncing slightly on her back from the steps that seem so unencumbered by worry. Why should she worry when there are two fully armed adults on either side of her. Her own personal guard in a manner of speaking. “There hasn’t been anything out here for daaaaaays.” She drags the word out like it's the most horrible thing in the world that it’s been peaceful. 

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes as you glance over at him and then look back out at the surrounding terrain. “Yeah, that’s why we are on guard.” He grunts, even though his own rifle is on his shoulder. His hand gripped the shoulder sling loosely but he had only just put it up there half an hour ago after you had taken your turn relaxing as much as you can. “it’s too fucking quiet.” 

He’s right. After the disasters that had been Kansas City, you had tried to avoid major cities, but even in the small towns, you had come across plenty of cordyceps and clickers. You hate the clickers with a passion.

The isolation can account for a lot of the silence. Miles stretching between remnants of civilization. The crumbling buildings and overgrown roads give the entire midwest a sense of peace. It’s unnerving. 

Your grip adjusts, head rolling around your shoulders slightly to try to loosen the knot that builds up in your shoulders after so long. The weight of your pack isn’t as heavy as it should be, the rations not exactly filling since you had to escape that one clicker in Du Bois, Nebraska. Your pack had been ripped and most of the food you had been carrying was lost. 

You glance over at Joel, noticing the way his shoulders seem to hang, almost a reflection of the way you feel. “We need to risk a larger town.” You murmur quietly, knowing that his first instinct will be to argue with you. You stumble slightly over a rock and hiss when you feel the hole in the sole of your boots. 

“Too dangerous.” Joel snorts, shaking his head even as he watches you regain your footing. “I’ve got some duct tape in my bag.” He reminds you, knowing that you should probably reinforce that shoe before you lose the sole all together. 

“It’s not just shoes.” You protest, trying to ignore the way that Ellie groans obnoxiously loud and stomps her foot. 

“Come on, man!” She throws her own arguments into the ring. “I need tampons! We could find them if there was jack shit out here, but there’s not. Do you want me to attract wild animals?” She presses, glaring at Joel who looks equal parts horrified and unconvinced. She cracks an evil grin. “Circling us in the wild as I just leave behind a trail of blood? Aaaaand tears.” She adds, lifting her brows. “Periods are really emotional things.” 

Biting your lip to keep from snorting, you watch as Joel; normally stoic, no bullshit Joel, can’t seem to string together the words to respond. His eyes slide over to you, almost pleading with you to say something. 

Your brows lift in question and he twitches slightly, his dark eyes unhappy with you not immediately jumping in to save him. “We could use the food if we can find any.” You rationalize, smirking when his brows pinch together and he looks like he had just been betrayed. 

“Clean underwear!” Ellie adds. “Or….cleaner. And a heavier fucking coat.” She shivers slightly and you can see that is the moment when Joel caves. He acts like a prick most of the time, but he’s got a soft spot for the kid. He won’t admit, maybe not even to himself, but he looks over at the faded and nearly rusted out sign. 

You continue walking, not pressing any more and you can hear the grumbling thoughts that are rolling through Joel’s mind. The now half hearted protests about why this is such a bad idea but you wait for the sigh. 

Almost even with the sign is when it comes, heavy and it sounds almost pained. Like he is going against everything he believes in. “Stop.” He huffs, shuffling to pull his bag off his back and kneeling down with a groan and the small pops of fifty plus year old knees. Unzipping the pocket where he keeps the Atlas and flips the worn pages to Nebraska. Glancing back at the road behind you and then at the sign before looking at the map. Tracing the route that you had already traveled before looking ahead at the towns that were on highway 77. 

Ellie doesn’t say a word but she practically bounces on her toes as she waits for his decision. You know that he’s going to agree, it’s just a matter of which town he chooses. He knows the truth of the situation. Winter is going to come quicker than any of you want, your food supply is low, you could probably all use a new set of boots, and all of you would kill for a halfway decent musty mattress to sleep on. Four walls and a hopefully non-leaking roof over your heads would be the icing on the cake. 

“Wymore is coming up in fifty-eight miles.” He taps the map and looks up at you to see what you think. 

Ellie shuffles slightly and instead of grinning, you crane your neck to look at the map yourself. “It looks like it’s bigger than the last few towns, but at least it’s not like we are running into Lincoln.” You hum before you nod. “I say we try.”

“Yessssss!” The teenager pumps her fist in excitement and she grins when Joel rolls his eyes. You’ve noticed that like any normal teenager, her favorite activity is annoying any kind of parental unit and pushing boundaries. This applies to Joel whether or not he likes it. “I want to find another joke book too.” 

Joel groans but you just turn around, grinning yourself as Joel mumbles under his breath, stuffing the map back in his pack and zipping it up. Joel and Ellie are alike in a lot of ways, especially their penchant for mumbling. 

You resist the urge to offer him a hand up, knowing he will be even more pissy if you do. For someone who complains about being older, he gets downright grouchy when he’s reminded of that same fact. “Well then, the quicker we get there, the quicker we don’t have to hear ‘are we there yet?’.” You snort, making Ellie grin shamelessly as she shrugs, knowing she will do exactly that. 

“So let’s get going.” She doesn’t wait for anyone, just setting off down the road and leaving the two of you to catch up with her. 

****

It takes you nearly three days to get to Wymore. All of you are tired, but Joel is the one who barely sleeps, even when you force him to lay down. It’s as if he cannot stop trying to protect Ellie, and also you, long enough for him to rest. He gets upset when he has to sleep, staying up until he is nodding off. The coffee supply has been exhausted and it’s probably a good thing. He would drink it all day to the point where his hands would shake from too much caffeine. Still he just wouldn’t trust you to make sure that no one snuck up on you for a few hours until he was past the point of being useless. 

The first signs of the town are a welcomed relief but it’s also an added source of tension. Each mile that you had traveled had added to the fear that this might be the time that you fail. That something goes wrong and someone else dies. The road here has not been easy and the losses have weighed heavily on all of you. Joel still won’t even mention Tess and you hate it when you wake up in the early morning hours to find him staring down at the broken face of his watch with a look that breaks your heart. 

Every approach into a new area can mean danger, either from the clickers or from humans and honestly you don’t know which one you fear more. Your gun is back in your hand, the weight of it familiar and comforting as you pass the first gas station, the windows busted out and dried fungus clinging to the building. 

“Fuck.” You hiss, uneasy at the presence of the fungal vines, even if they look like they aren’t active.

“I wonder why it looks pink.” Ellie frowns as she squints at the building. “It’s usually an ugly brown color, right?” She looks towards Joel for confirmation, but he’s busy frowning at the building himself. 

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” If the cordyceps have spread this far out of town then there’s a possibility there are still active branches closer to the supplies that you are looking for. 

“Come on man.” Ellie groans, kicking a dirt clod. “There’s nothing for miles. It’s probably all dead.” 

You know that Ellie is probably right, but it’s a risk. You bite your lip, looking over at Joel. “Why don’t we sweep the town and we can see?” You ask, knowing that if everything is dead, you could desperately use the rest. Cordyceps rarely return en masse when the vines have withered and died. It could be a safe place to recharge and for Joel to sleep for more than ten minutes at a time. 

You’ve stopped walking as you talk, Joel looking around as he contemplates your alternatives. To be honest, there aren’t many and both of you know it. Not without a lot of backtracking which none of you want to do. 

Joel sighs and you know that he’s going to agree. He turns to Ellie. “Don’t fucking touch anything until we say it’s alright.” He points at her for good measure, as if his finger would impress the importance of his words. “Got it?” 

“Got it.” She huffs. “Jesus, you act like we haven’t done this before.” You roll your eyes and look away, knowing you shouldn’t encourage her right now. 

It takes hours to make your way into the center of town. Not because you are blocked by clickers or avoiding humans, it’s because you are stocking up. It’s like the fungus took over this town and just let it rot. Nothing inside the first few blocks of town is disturbed. No looting has been done here, plenty of supplies to be had. 

Both you and Joel have been cautious but slowly optimistic as you’ve found boots and heavy jackets, gloves and hats. A new pair of clothes have been rolled into everyone’s bags and you’ve even grabbed another pack to fill with the mylar sealed packs of camping food from the sporting goods store. It was a miracle that nothing had been ransacked, but it makes you wonder exactly what the fuck happened here. Did the army sweep through and round up all the residents right away? It would make sense, but then why were there dead spores of the fungus here? You haven’t seen one body so far and it makes you nervous. 

“This place is a fucking gold mine.” Ellie grins like a kid in a candy store, perhaps because you’ve actually found candy and she has been sucking on the jolly ranchers until the top of her mouth is raw. “Now we just need to find a place to sleep. I want my own room.” 

Glancing over at Joel, you expect him to immediately tell her no, but he doesn’t say a word. Continuing to look around like he is expecting a clicker to pop out from the doorway of the local McDonald’s, now completely covered in that strange pink fungus. It’s like he doesn’t even hear her as he frowns at the building. 

She takes that as approval and immediately starts talking about how she’s going to spread out. Making you snort when she talks about sitting in her underwear for an hour. There hasn’t been a lot of privacy out here on the road, so you can understand that desire. 

“Joel.” You murmur his name softly, knowing that the best thing you can do is to find the motel and get settled down for the night before the sun sets. Even if this town is as safe as it appears on the surface, you would rather not be fumbling around in the dark . He doesn’t look over at you, still staring at the overgrown building as if it’s holding the secret. Maybe it reminds him of the Boston Museum, ominously covered with the tentacles of the fungus and the horrors that you had found inside it. “Joel!”

“What?” His head whips around, body tense as he’s ripped out of his thoughts. Relaxing when he finds you and Ellie staring at him. “We need to find the motel.” You remind him, nodding towards the sun getting lower in the sky. “I think we could all use a good night’s sleep.” 

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes searing your face, looking for some hidden meaning beneath your words before he glances over at an eager Ellie. “Yeah, sure.” He agrees, adjusting his rifle to sling it onto his shoulder and adjusts his now much heavier pack on his back. “Probably on the other side of the main drag.” 

His new boots thump against the cracked pavement. The roads leading deeper into the town is the guide towards what will hopefully be a comfortable bed and at least eight hours of sleep. 

Your own new boots feel pretty good, but maybe a day or so here, going through supplies and really making sure that you can take on the coming winter would be a good thing. Allowing you to break in the shoes without blisters. You’ll have to talk about it with Joel after Ellie sequesters herself for the night. 

It’s about another fifteen minutes before you get to the small motel that looks like it will be a good place to spend the night. Half the building is covered in another large cluster of the fungus, the pink hue looking particularly bright in the fading sun. 

“We’ll get some keys.” It will be better than breaking down doors, especially since the motel wasn’t equipped with the keycards that the high end hotels had started switching to before society came crashing down. 

The bad news is that the motel doesn’t have any adjoining rooms, so Joel and Ellie get into a small spat about her having her own room, Ellie eventually winning after promising that she will block the door with a dresser and he’s allowed to sweep the room before she locks herself in. Half the building is so overtaken by the vivid pink fungus that you swear looks like a big splat of bubblegum thrown over the walls. 

She doesn’t even want to have dinner with you and Joel, making the man go through the room and then telling you both goodnight and shutting the door in your face. Making you laugh as Joel frowns at the door, rethinking this entire situation. 

“Well, you can have a room to yourself too.” You offer, smirking as he cuts his eyes towards you. You know that Joel would rather everyone sleep where he can keep his eyes on them, so you getting privacy is off the table. 

“Shut up.” Joel grunts, walking down towards the next room and kicking it open, watchful even though you’ve both already been in the room and deposited your bags. It’s a nice room, two double beds so each one of you can stretch out and relax. 

You laugh quietly and decide to walk down the railing towards the portion of the building that has been overtaken by the fungus. Your curiosity about this variant is finally getting the best of you and you want to get a better look at it. 

It’s thick. The tendril that is draped over the metal railing of the second floor, wrapping around it and up the support column. You bite your lip, tilting your head when you see the withered remnants of some kind of flower. What kind of fungus sprouts flowers?

You jump when something touches your back, whirling around to find Joel behind you, holding his hands up. He smirks at you, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Fuck you.” You hiss, narrowing your eyes and he huffs. “What are you doing?” He asks. 

Turning back towards the fungus, you sigh. “This is different from any other kind I’ve ever seen.” You comment, stepping closer to it only to feel Joel reach for your arm to pull you back. “It’s dried out.” You remind him, jerking your head towards the husk of the cordyceps. “Have you ever seen anything like this?” You know that he spent a lot of time sneaking out of the Boston QZ, it’s possible he had seen it before. 

He grunts, relaxing his hold on you and he shuffles slightly closer, looking at the flower buds that extend from the tendrils. His own suspicions about anything fungus related is deep, but it’s dried. “I haven’t.” He admits after a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly and trying to think if there is any reason why this pink coloring has the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. 

“So it’s something new.” You bite your lip and lean in, feeling the disapproval radiate off of Joel in hot waves but you ignore him. Tilting your head and reaching out to touch one of the dried flowers. 

“Don’t-”

The second your finger touches the wilted bloom, it bursts open, spurting you and Joel behind you in a cloud of pink dust. You gasp, holding your breath but there’s no hope for not inhaling the pollen. 

“Fuck!” Joel coughs, shaking his head and backing up so quickly he hits the side of the building and reaches out to drag you away from the lingering cloud of dust and starts to practically beat it off the two of you. “We need- we need-” He leans over and starts coughing, obviously having inhaled just as much of it as you had. 

“We’re okay.” You gasp, shaking your head and brushing the dust off your clothes. “We- it’s dead. Right?” You hate that you are asking that, but you hadn’t expected that from a dried out fungus.

“It- we should clean up.” Joel blinks, the pollen making his eyes itch and that has to be the cause of the rush of heat that slides over him. It’s just adrenaline. Fear. Anything that would scare both of you would make the slight nip in the air disappear and make you feel like your skin is superheated.

The water is gravity fed. The large cisterns on the roof are still full and while it’s not warm, perhaps a cold shower might be better right now. Joel drags you both to the room and locks the door, although he doesn’t push a dresser in front of it in case Ellie needs you in the night. 

In the bathroom, you are shaking as you start to strip down, worrying about how stupid you just were and if you completely fucked yourself. The anxious fear covering the way your skin seems to burn and feel so sensitive to everything. Shuddering when your hand brushes over your thigh as you push your jeans down and kick them off before you pull your shirt over your head and remove your bra. 

Clean up. Get the pollen off your skin and cool down. Your body seems to be working on overdrive. Your nipple hard under the cold water and instead of gasping in shock, you moan softly. Enjoying the sensation and reaching for the bar of soap that is still wrapped in plastic. 

Hurry up, hurry up. Joel paces around the room, his hands curled into fists. Practically sweating even though the air is cool as the sun sets. His body feels like it’s on fire, like he is battling a sickness. 

Over and over again, he goes through the symptoms of the infection of the cordyceps, there’s no veining, he’s stopped and checked his eyes and reflection in the peeling mirror about twenty times in the five minutes you’ve been in the bathroom. And he doesn’t fucking think the fungus makes his cock harder than a fucking rock in his jeans. 

He’s not thought about sex in months. Nothing beyond fleeting moments of attraction to you that he swiftly buries under guilt and responsibility. Normally, it is when you’re bent over and your ass is presented to him in such a way that he thinks about sinking into you from behind, or when your shirt pulls tight over your breasts and he imagines cupping them in his hands as you sit on his cock. Immediately dismissed and ignored as he reminds himself of how he had failed Tess, he doesn’t deserve to find warmth and comfort in your arms. 

Now, it’s all he can think about. The urge to palm his cock makes his fingers twitch and he almost moves his hand over his crotch before he flinches back to reality and tries to examine his face in the mirror again, wondering if his eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep or if he is infected. 

Scrubbing your body is nearly painful, wanting to stop and touch yourself, but you can’t. You need to get this done and get out so Joel can shower. Still, despite the cold water, you feel like you are on fire when you shut off the water and realize that you didn’t bring your bag into the bathroom. You will have to go out there in nothing because you can’t put those clothes back on. Not until they have been washed. 

Moderately dry, you hear Joel bang on the door. “Hurry up.” He growls, making you clench your thighs together at the raspy tone and hating how it spears through you. You know Joel isn’t interested in you, hasn’t ever looked at you like that and the crush that you had on the man had been buried deep. 

“I’m done.” You don’t have a chance to be embarrassed as you open the door and Joel practically shoves past you into the bathroom and slams it behind him. “Fuck.” Your annoyance cools the heat for a moment, but it’s only temporary. 

The water is icy, but still, Joel curls his hands into fists against the shower wall. He’s fucking hard. Harder than he had probably ever been in his entire life, even when he was a horny teenager and would have fucked anyone who let him between their thighs. He’s not felt like this ever. The need to touch himself builds to the point where his hips are rocking into thin air against the spray of the water. Want clawing up his throat and pooling in his stomach in a heavy knot. 

You don’t dress, you can’t. Crawling under the covers of one of the beds, you listen to Joel groan in the bathroom, it’s muted over the sound of the shower but it’s sexy. All of his sounds are sexy, from the low grunts he gives when he’s stiff and sore, to the huffs and groans of annoyance. It’s all sexy to you. The rasp of his voice when he’s not spoken for a few hours. 

Closing your eyes, it’s easy to give in, to let your hands drift over your skin. He’s not here, you can take care of this frantic need that is swirling inside you. You just need to slide your hand between your thighs and ease it. It wouldn’t take much more than a few swipes of your fingers against your pulsing and aching clit. 

Trying to fight it, you concentrate on your breathing, in and out. Inhaling slowly and holding it so you can exhale when the burn in your lungs tells you that you’ve reached your limit. It helps, but not much. Not when you’re imagining Joel in his shower. Touching him. Being free to touch him and having his hands on your body in return. 

Your hands slip over your breasts, squeezing them hard enough to moan softly and your legs shift to press together. Clenching around nothing and wishing that you were full while your hands start to move down over your stomach. 

The first touch is almost a relief, your entire core quivering as your fingers press against your clit. It’s overwhelming and not enough. You need more, fingertips pressing and rubbing around the puffed up bundle of nerves. You’re already soaked and can feel it dripping down your slit. 

Spurred on by that insatiable need, you slide your fingers around your entrance and start to press them inside. Biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning. Imagining that it’s more, that it’s a cock that is starting to break you open and fill that void that is aching. 

You are so caught up in the bliss of that first stretch of your fingers that you don’t hear the shower turn off. The quiet curses coming from the bathroom are muffled by the rush of blood in your ears, the feeling of relief coursing through your nerves and taking over. You don’t hear the click of the lock and the turn of the handle. The door opening doesn't even register as you plant your heels on the bed and push your hips up, needing to get your fingers deeper, not quite reaching the spot inside you that craves fullness. 

You don’t hear him until he chokes out a sound that is pained and low, like he’s injured. Your eyes pop open as you lurch up off the bed, your fingers ripping themselves out of your cunt hard enough to make you whimper. Fixed on Joel’s towel draped body, tented over his waist. 

“Joel, I-” “Fuuuuuck.” He growls, his eyes closing and his hands bunches into fists, one holding his towel and the other by his side. “I’ve tried to not think about you, about touching you.” His words are rasped out, strained against his vocal cords. “I’ve goddamn beat into my brain that you aren’t to be thought about this way and now, I can’t stop.” His stomach clenches and his body twitches as he struggles to keep still. 

Your chest heaves and you see his eyes drop down to your uncovered tits. His jaw clenching and his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. “I - I need to touch myself.” You admit breathlessly. “I - it hurts so bad and I need something inside me.” 

Joel groans again, shuddering so violently that you can see him shake from where you are. “I’ve jerked off in the shower twice and it's still hard.” He drops the towel, revealing his hard and leaking cock, making you whimper at the sight and clench around nothing. “I think that- that we- that the flower-” “I don’t care.” You moan, shaking your head and crawling to your knees and shuffling forward. Showing him all of you and so goddamn desperate to touch him that you think you are about to explode. “Touch me, Joel. Fuck, touch me, please.” You beg, your hands on your own body. “We-” He shakes his head and his face changes, morphs into pain.

“Fuck me.” You hiss, watching as his resolve breaks. His cock bounces as he lunges for you, hard and swift, driving you back to the bed with a bounce. Almost as if he is attacking you. 

He’s not gentle. His mouth finding yours in a harsh kiss, your permission unleashing the coils of restraint that he had tried to put on himself. His grip bruises as he hauls you up the bed and settles between your thighs. 

You’ve always attributed Joel with rough gentleness. The type of man who would make you ache and then hold you close. Groaning in pleasure when you find out that is exactly what Joel Miller is like. His hands spreading your thighs with a desperation that proves he is just as afflicted by this fungal pollen as you are. His cock hard and pressing against your folds as he rocks his hips forward to line up. Almost unable to find the hole with his eagerness to sink into you. 

“Joel, hurry.” Your hands shake, holding onto him and urging him closer to you, frantic with need now that you know that you are going to have him inside you. 

“Goddamn, I’m trying.” He hisses, hating to let you go so he can take his cock in hand. Rocking into his own grip as he shuttles his hips forward. “I’m fuckin’ trying, sweetheart.” 

You whimper when you finally feel him pressing against your entrance, choking out a sound of need that is animalistic. Only to cry out in bliss as he pushes inside you without another delay. 

He groans, eyes cinched shut as he slides inside you to the hilt, burying himself in your heat and feeling that coil in his stomach tighten even more now that your walls are around him. Immediately starting to move just as soon as he fills you, driving by that need and burning in his very veins. 

It’s exquisite, the pain and pleasure blending and fusing in your stomach, nerves alight and responding to every small movement. You can’t get enough of him, you need more. Wrapping  your legs around his hips, you rise to meet his harsh thrusts. Clenching down around him every time he hits that spot deep inside you that you couldn’t reach with your fingers. 

He shouldn’t be inside you, he shouldn’t be touching you, but now that he is, he can’t stop. Turning his head, he presses his lips to yours and slides his tongue into your mouth. Needing more. Kissing you like he had imagined a thousand times before. Giving into every urge he has had since the day he met you and repressed before right now. Snapping his hips forward sharply and pulling every groan out of your mouth to swallow down. 

Every thrust makes it better, eases that burning in your core, your cunt slick and squelching every time he drives into you. He absorbs every sound you make, almost greedy for them. His hips jarring as they slam into you. Rocking you both up the bed. 

“Oh god,” breaking away from the kiss, you moan into his ear. Closing your eyes as he pants and puffs while he fucks you. “So deep, so deep, Joel.” Your nails drag down his back, making him hiss in pleasure and pain. 

“Shit.” He groans your name, lost in the rhythm of his thrusts and the building pressure. “You needed this?” He growls, making you clench down around him hard and whimper his name. “Yessss.” You agree, nodding against the pillow. “Needed it so bad.” 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He huffs, burying his face against your neck. Continuing to pound into you, and not letting up even though his back is screaming in pain. His body won’t let him do anything but rock his hips. Driven by a need that overrides everything else. 

His words make you burn, making you even more desperate for him. Your hips rock up and legs tightening around his waist even more. Loving how his cock stretches you out and scrubs against every nerve in your cunt. Lighting up your body until you are gasping on the edge of that much needed orgasm. 

Every plunge into your body brings him closer to cumming, desperate to feel that emptiness, that wrung out filling once he has filled you. He shouldn’t cum inside you, he knows that, but he’s not going to be able to stop himself. He can barely pull back enough to rock his hips back into you. 

His arms have banded around you, holding you into place as he fucks you. Deep and primal, as if he is trying to fuse the two of you into one. His cock punches into the depths of your body that you never imagined anyone reaching, but he touches it with ease. Your body pulsing with that need to come apart. 

“So close, I’m so close, baby.” You whine, body starting to tremble underneath him. “So close.” Your nails dig into his shoulder, grounding yourself to him in desperation. “Joel.” 

“I gotcha.” He groans, eyes closed and his breath fanning against your skin. “I’mma take good care of you, sweetheart.” He promises. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock, ain’t cha? Just like you wanted.” 

His words throw you over the edge, that need built up so tight inside you that it busts on the next thrust. Lights careen and collide behind your eyes, bright and beautiful as your whole body ignites into pleasure like you’ve never experienced before. Crying out loudly and soaking  him in a wave of your juices. Cumming harder than you ever have before. 

Joel growls your name, his hips stuttering as you come apart around you. Unable to hold back any longer. He buries himself deep into your hot passage and paints your walls with sticks ropes of his seed. Panting against your lips as he empties himself body and perhaps his very soul into you. 

Both of you pant, relieved and exhausted from the pure exertion of need as you had taken from each other. Joel presses into you, trying to catch his breath, but the fire is still burning low in his belly, his cock still not softening as it twitches inside you. 

“Oh fuck.” You feel that same desire still curling in your stomach, not satisfied by the intensity of the orgasm that you are still coming down from. “Joel-” 

He huffs and shakes his head. “Don’t-” he presses his lips to your again, body screaming as he starts to move again. “Shhhhhh.” 

The need still burns and both of you are still locked in its fiery grip, not yet free from the desire that washed over you from a burst of pollen. 

****

“What the fuck man, open the door!” The thudding on the door finally penetrates the bone deep sleep you had finally fallen into. You don’t know how many time Joel fucked you, or how many times he had spend himself inside you as you blearily open your eyes. 

Joel grunts, slowly opening his own eyes and unwinding himself from the tangled together position that you had passed out in. The knocking on the door keeps on. “Joel!” Your name is also shouted, Ellie starting to sound somewhat panicked when neither one of you is immediately opening the door. 

“Fuck! I’m coming.” He drags the top blanket off the bed and wraps it around his waist before flinging the door opened to blink into the harshness of the sun. “What?” He growls roughly, making Ellie’s eyes blow wide with shock.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” She demands, pushing into the room and stopping short when she sees you sitting up in the only bed that has been disturbed, the sheet anchored beneath your armpits. “Oh shit, you fucked.” She gasps, turning and shooting Joel an impressed grin. “Way to go, old man, you made a move.” Her grin quickly turns into an expression of mild disgust when she realizes that she’s congratulating you two on having sex. “Uh, I’m gonna go now.” She huffs, wrinkling her nose and pinching it. “It smells in here.” Waving her hand in front of her face, she darts back out the door and Joel just stands there for a moment before he rolls his eyes and goes to shut the door before he thinks better of it. Sticking his head out of the room, he shouts after Ellie. “Stay away from the fucking fungus!” 

You snort, grinning to yourself as your body starts to ache. Fucking fungus indeed. 

[ducksido]

Can I please request the Housewardens (and Sebek because underated) with a Reader who has crystal hair (similar to Idia's fire hair) and can control crystals? They can control what type of crystal they're using (emerald, diamond, ruby, amythist, ECT) and have to eat a lot so they can use their crystal magic.

(SEBEK 💗💗💗💗)

-Riddle Rosehearts

Rules first, awe second. At first, he tries to lecture you about proper table manners when you pile food onto your plate.

But the moment he sees you summon a rose quartz lance midair and shatter it into a glittering mist with a snap, he shuts up.

“I see… your magic is more demanding than I realized. I apologize for assuming.”

He's both fascinated and a little intimidated by your hair. Crystals constantly shifting, humming with magic—he studies it like a rare potion.

Once he learns the logic behind your magic, he’ll nag you to eat before you faint.

“Here. I prepared a snack box for you—high protein and sugar. Do not skip meals again.”

-Leona Kingscholar

“Tch. So that’s why you eat like a beast.”

He teases, but he watches closely when you form a sapphire wall to block an incoming attack in a training match.

He’s very interested in your defensive capabilities—thinks it could be useful in battle.

Leona’s laidback, but if he catches you pushing yourself too far without eating, he gets snappy.

“Oi. Dumb herbivore. Eat something before you pass out and make me carry you.”

Secretly fascinated by your hair—when sunlight hits it, it scatters light like a prism, and he stares longer than he means to.

-Azul Ashengrotto

Business brain immediately turns on.

“Your unique magic could have tremendous commercial potential—enchanting jewelry? Defense applications? Custom gemstone architecture?”

He’s polite and respectful, but you can tell he’s calculating. That is, until you casually eat three full entrees in one sitting.

“...I may have underestimated your maintenance costs.”

If you let him, he’ll work with you to develop a magical nutrition plan that helps recharge your magic efficiently.

Thinks your crystal hair is elegant and rare—he stares a bit too long, then coughs and adjusts his glasses.

-Kalim Al-Asim

“WHOA! You’re like a walking treasure!”

Immediately obsessed. He thinks your hair is the coolest thing ever and constantly asks what type of crystal you’re using today.

He’s rich, so food? Never a problem. He’ll host full banquets just to make sure you’re well-fed.

“You need to eat? Say no more, friend! JAMIL!!”

You accidentally conjure a ruby chandelier once during a magic accident. He insists on keeping it.

Thinks your magic is beautiful, sparkly, and amazing—and his genuine admiration makes your heart flutter.

-Vil Schoenheit

He notices your hair before anything else. “Your look is… ethereal. Artificial beauty made natural.”

You thought he’d think your ever-shifting crystal hair was gaudy, but he loves the way it refracts light—wants to photograph you in golden hour lighting.

He’s critical of your eating habits if they're chaotic, but he understands the need to eat a lot.

“Fine. If you’re going to eat like that, at least eat right. I’ll have Rook prepare a crystal-magic-friendly diet plan.”

Surprisingly supportive of your magic—he views it as powerful and aesthetically stunning.

Secretly envious of your “natural accessories.”

-Idia Shroud

You both have weird hair. Instant bond.

He’s obsessed with your crystal magic—spends hours researching gemstone conductivity and magical resonance.

“W-wait, you can generate amethyst spikes? That’s so OP… Like, SR-level OP.”

You two have late-night snack binges in silence while gaming. He makes sure you don’t forget to eat during long sessions.

One time, you used diamond to shield his tablet when it fell. He’s been lowkey in love with you ever since.

“You sparkle like a Final Boss with a rare drop rate…”

-Malleus Draconia

Sees your magic as something ancient and sacred—he compares you to the old crystal dragons of fae folklore.

“You wield gemstones as if they were extensions of your will. Curious.”

Watches with open admiration as you grow an emerald forest around Ramshackle just to protect a friend.

Offers you glowing fruit from Briar Valley known to restore mana, trying to help with your magical upkeep.

Loves watching your hair shift colors depending on your crystal focus—it reminds him of the aurora.

He’s not threatened by your power—in fact, he wants to see it at its peak.

-Sebek Zigvolt

SHOOKETH. Loudly.

“YOU HAVE SUCH A STRONG AND SHINING MAGIC! AS EXPECTED OF ONE WHO STANDS BESIDE THE YOUNG MASTER!!”

Thinks your huge appetite is evidence of great magical prowess and respects it. Loudly. Again.

He considers your control over crystals as noble and warrior-like. He’s honored to train beside you.

Compliments your hair awkwardly. “IT—IT SHINES AS GLORIOUSLY AS MALLEUS-SAMA’S MAGNIFICENCE!!”

He’s a bit extra, but his admiration is genuine—and he will defend you to the ends of the Devildom.

[lizawithaz-notlisawithans]

The Pitt Crew and their Preferred YouTube Rabbit Hole

Robby: Those survivalist dudes building homes off the grid. Also vintage watch collecting videos. It’s a hobby born from being Dr Adamsons mentee. He has a very small but unique collection.

Collins: Leather handbag refurbishing. She is a vintage bag enthusiast and enjoys watching the slow craftsmanship.

Langdon: He has two under four so he has watched every Ms Rachel video under the sun (his wife strictly prohibits cocomelon but he has caved a couple of times so he could have some peace). On his own, he is watching medical videos cause it’s easier for him to process than just reading journals.

Mel: She is a Trixie Mattel stan. She has watched every Unnnh video and jumps to watch every new Queens Who Like to Watch video that drops. She and her sister love watching Defunctland videos together.

Dana: Live concert footage from 80s/90s artists. She loves reading the sweet comments of people sharing stories about the song being their wedding dance or their passed lovers favorite song. She will share them on facebook with her own stories about seeing Springsteen with her sisters in 88.

Santos: She has the most chaotic Youtube Homepage of anyone at the Pitt. It’s MMA videos, video essays that just recap whole TV shows verbatim that are 6 hours long, music videos from queer artists and knife sharpening videos. Whitaker doesn’t understand a single thing thats going on.

Whitaker: Since moving in with Santos and wanting to earn his keep he has been watching all those internet dad teaches you how to unclog a sink/caulk a tub/fix your fridge videos. Other than that he loves watching soul train performances, npr tiny desks and music history video essays.

Javadi: She watches all the study influencers and has BIG opinions on who is legit and who is a phony looking for a cash grab. She also watches a bunch of lifestyle vloggers to lowkey live vicariously through. She loves Emma Chamberlain and her Paris vlogs.

Mohan: (sry this is so sad) She watches ASMR Hair Brushing/Massage videos to go to bed. She has a hard time falling asleep especially after an adrenaline filled shift. She watched one as a joke but it instantly relaxed and made her think about how her dad used to brush and oil her hair before bed when her mom worked late. (Not sad) Perfume influencers especially ones that focus on indie fragrances.

McKay: She’s watching Mr Beast with her son. She holds no opinion on him.

Abbot: he only watches videos people send him. Samira sent him a Ted Talk hosted by a journal author they were talking about. His therapist recommends guided meditation videos to help with his PTSD but he got bored and stumbled onto those dancing fruit videos for toddlers. He unironically loves them.

Ellis: She plays DJ sets (Chicago House/Louisiana Bounce/etc) while she cleans her apartment. She has few Loc influencers that she follows to find ways to make her wash days shorter and find new hairstyles.

Shen: He is a Dropout Subscriber. But he will still watch the old collegehumor sketches. If he’s feeling nostalgic he’ll marathon lonely island, BriTaNick and good neighbor videos.

Mateo: He is mainlining the most insane Youtube shorts.

Walsh: She ironically loves the dancing fruit videos for toddlers.

Garcia: old clips from the L Word. And she gets into fights in the comments.

Princess: recap podcasts for dating reality shows like Love Island/Bachelor/Love is Blind. The long shifts make it hard to watch every show but she needs to know the tea.

Perlah: She uses Youtube as her gym. Her house is chaos with her kids and pets but she will do her daily Chloe Ting workout!

Donnie: He loves those British guys who are amazed at seasoned food in America. Also grilling videos and reviews of smokers.

Please comment your thoughts on these characters youtube rabbit holes (tell me that im wrong!)

[llamagoddessofficial]

Has anyone requested Fae Dust’s datemate HCs yet? If not, can we have some?

I also saw @owl-bones' Dust art, anon. And I very much agree its sexy

Don't think I need to tell you that he's hard to read

Get used to having no clue how he really feels.

Some wonder why he doesn't speak, when tricksy words are what the fae are known for. But in a world where every word is a trap, there's great power in not speaking at all.

... Also means it feels like there's never any pressure with Dust. You can relax around him. Blurt whatever you like, because he says barely anything in return.

When he likes you, you won't know how you know, but you'll just... know. You'll get a feeling you're being quietly appreciated. You'll get a feeling you're the only person in the room he can stand. He keeps looking at you like you and him are in on a joke no one else understands.

He'll be silent for hours, only to stun everyone in the room by chuckling at something you said.

He frequently looks your way, even if you can't see his eyelights you can tell you're being watched, and when you can see his eyelights they get visibly wider and softer.

Normally, during the rare occasions when Nightmare hosts balls or parties, Dust immediately finds some way to escape. But if you're present, he'll stay. Might even ask you to dance.

(By 'ask', I mean just gently take your hand and wordlessly lead you into it, the other skeletons too gobsmacked at his boldness to intervene)

There's a few clearer signs he likes you. He'll perform random acts of politeness for you, like holding doors and passing you things you can't reach, a big fucking deal considering you didn't ask first. He'll sit by your side, he'll stand close to you even if you're not facing one another. If you're having a conversation with another fae he looms nearby... you might mistake it for jealousy, but really, he's making it 100% clear to whoever you're talking to that if they trick you or take something of yours he's going to ensure it's returned.

..... A little jealousy too, though.

He disappears for several days at a time, seemingly out of nowhere. No one's sure what he does - rumours swirl that he goes out to do Nightmare's dirty work. The first thing he always does when he comes back is give you a small affectionate touch.

He spends a lot of time in Nightmare's library. You might find him there, if you wander that way. You can tell he appreciates the company because he doesn't leave when you show up.

You find him smoking outside, you ask for a puff of his cigarette. He takes a slow drag, then leans in and kisses you.

He'll take his hood down around you.

When he does eventually speak, you'll find that the whole time he's known you, he's been quietly making a dedicated effort to learn about the things important to you. He's very perceptive. He'll learn all about your interests, your hobbies, the things you could talk about forever... if you know another language he'll familiarise himself with the basics, if you like art he'll pick up a pencil, if you like history his satchel will be heavy with scrolls and books he's snatched from Nightmare's library for you.

It's funny how so few words can make you feel so appreciated.

He's quite the charmer, when he wants to be.