#it all adds up to this great bundle of Stuff

[variousqueerthings]

I’m really not over the way that MASH nails on the head the tension between what is technically a terrible and severely limiting situation and place, and the odd freedoms a place like this affords to people. They way these people might never have been friends (family) by geography or interests or ideals outside of here, but now belong together, and the way individual idiosyncrasies afford one another the space to exist as a version of oneself who would get stifled/locked up/attacked/exiled/censored/judged in what one might consider “society”

yeah, that’s... literally what happened -- and happens -- over and over

[tvgals]

RENT A HIMBO !!

synopsis: reader had a pretty gnarly breakup. good thing her good friend hired a himbo for her troubles.

a/n: i couldn’t add the taglist bc it exceeded 50 people

cw; himbo! choso, black! fem! reader, fingering, oral (f) receiving, missionary, ooc gojo, fucking against the wall, this is based off an audio i found the other day.

you sat on the couch bundled up in an array of blankets. you’d just broken up with your boyfriend, gojo satoru. it was one of the longest relationships you’d had in a while, and it all came crashing down. all because his enormous ego came before you two’s relationship.

you heard three knocks adorn your door and you scrunch your face up, you weren’t expecting any visitors. you stood up, taking a single blanket onto your back and walking to the door. you open it just a smidge to see a tall burly man with a black compression shirt on and sweatpants.

“can i help you?” you ask, looking him up and down. he had a black line on his chiseled face along with two ponytails in his head. “yeah! uhm is this apartment 97G?” the man asks. you open your door a bit more, still confused. “yeah, why?” you question. “awesome. i was looking for apartment L6G for the longest time! until i realized it was just upside down.” he smiles. “oh! you’re wondering why i’m here.” he face palms. he grabs a paper out the pocket of his sweats and starts reading off of it.

“th-thank you for choosing ‘rent-a-himbo’, you’ve been gifted 24 ho- horse…hours! 24 hours with me! choso.” the man, now known as choso, grins. “this purchase was made by your good friend…shoko. my hobbies include..baking…drinking p-protein shakes, and going to the gym.” he looks at you and folds the paper back up and puts it in his pocket. your face falters at the reading of the paper, why would shoko do that?! “okay…” you mumble, about to close the door. before you can, choso sticks his foot in the door. “hey, could you maybe let me in? this is my only uniform and i’d hate to get it drenched in sweat.” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. you groan and open the door. choso walks in a sweet grin on his face. “thanks!” choso thanks you, taking his shirt off.

“woah woah, what are you doing?” you ask, moving back to the couch. “i told you, it’s my only uniform.” choso explains himself, neatly folding the shirt and putting it on your glass table you had in front of your couch. you watched as choso’s muscles flexing involuntarily as he walked around your home. “so, do you need me to do anything?” choso asks from the bathroom. “nope.” you say, snuggling up against the biggest pillow on the couch. choso walks into the room and sits across from you. “well then, let’s just talk.” he grins.

“wanna tell me about that breakup? i’m a great listener! i finished an entire podcast in one day!” choso beamed. you grin to yourself. “you totally don’t have to if you don’t wanna.” he says, his hands in his pockets. “well…” you started. “he was a really sweet guy. but his attitude and personality were just unbearable.” you rolled your eyes thinking about it. “and he never went down on me or anything. he only cared about himself.” you say. all the times gojo belittled the way you did things, or how you handled stuff was just…annoying. “but the sex was always good, even though i never really got to cum.” you mumble the last part, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by choso. “really?! he never made you cum?” choso asks, his mouth agape and his eyes wide.

“we gotta fix that, pretty lady.” choso says, pulling your hand so you crash softly into his body. you whine a bit, grinding yourself onto his beefy thigh. “just remember, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, okay?” choso says, pushing you onto your back and shimmying your shorts off of you. “i want this…” you whine once again. “good good..” choso grins. he takes a deep breath before he hooks his arms under your legs and starts eating you out like he’s been starving.

“fuck!” you groan out, arching your back. choso moaned into your cunt, making out with it sloppily. “please…” you whine out, shoving his face deeper into your pretty cunt. “mhm…” choso hummed, rutting his hips into your crème colored couch, his sensitive cock making it all the more pleasurable. “chosoooo! m’gna cum!” you practically scream. choso looks up at you and smiles,

“let go for me, pretty girl.” and you do exactly that, screaming and cumming all over his face. “there we go..” choso mumbles, rubbing soothing circles onto your thighs. he stands on his knees, hovering above you with a shit eating grin on his face. “hope you know i didn’t come here just to eat you out.” choso says, taking his sweatpants off. “i can tell..” you giggle to yourself. choso lines himself up with your hole, slowly pushing in. choso was big almost eight inches. you don’t think he knew he was big, though. due to him putting half his body weight onto you and pushing inside even harder. you scream out in a mixture of pleasure and pain, never having someone fully indulge into you like this.

“shh, shhh…” choso soothes you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. once choso bottoms out in your wet pussy, he starts going harder. he’s moaning and groaning profanities in your ear which he follows up with sorry‘s everytime. choso lifts his head up and looks at your face, glistening with sweat and a dopey grin on your face that spills out your beautiful moans. “you’re so beautiful…he didn’t see the beauty in you…” choso mumbled, almost to himself as if you weren’t even there.

you arched you back and start scratching at choso’s. “‘m cumming!” you moaned. choso smiled and kept his pace, watching as you came all over his dick. he groaned at the sight, getting close himself. “where do you want it?” choso asks, looking up at you. “inside…just do it inside.” you moan out. choso nods at your answer, thrusting into you a few more times before cumming inside your pussy with a groan. choso let you catch you breath for a moment before picking you up by hooking his arms underneath your legs, pining you against the wall. “you’re gonna drop me!” you exclaim, holding onto choso’s biceps with your life. “i don’t have all this muscle for no reason.” choso smirks, thrusting up into you. your head fell back in pleasure, choso’s dick hitting the tight spots in this position.

“right there?” choso asks, pressing kisses to your tits. you nod dumbly, drool threatening to spill out your mouth. “righ’ thereeee!” you whine, clawing at choso’s biceps and chest. “i know, baby, i know…” choso sympathizes with you. “‘m gonna cum again!” you cry out. “do it for me, baby..” choso says, pressing a hot kiss to your mouth. you cum one last time, choso falling not too far behind you with a low groan. “thank you..” choso smiles, laying down on the couch with you on top. “thank you, choso. that was amazing.

choso’s face dusted with a pink hue as he smiled down at you. “it’s nothing for a pretty girl like you.” choso says, eubbing his hand along your back. choso grabs a discarded blanket from off the floor and he throws it over the both of you. “might just have to give you a buy one get one free coupon.” choso winks. you giggle, slapping his chest playfully.

maybe this rent a himbo thing wasn’t too bad.

[gojomerchbox]

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[hughes86-43]

Unexpected Summer | J.Hughes

requested - yes; can I request “Wait- we’re having a baby?” with jack? something unexpected like a fourth of july during michigan summers type thing if that makes any sense? thank you so much

note- love this idea! thanks for requesting! :) Masterlist

warnings: mentions of pregnant stuff.

Michigan summers were the type of summers you had dreamt about when you first met Jack and how he told you about how much fun he had at his lake house in Michigan while hanging with his friends that he hasn’t seen all season. Your first Michigan summer with Jack, his family, and friends was amazing. The amount of love that his family and friends showed you during that time was incredible. Everyday mostly consisted of sunny days, boating around, playing tennis and golf, and then having nights around the fire. It was truly everything you dreamed of.

It was now your fifth Michigan summer with Jack. You loved hockey season and getting to spend it watching Jack do what he loves to do, but you were glad to be back in Michigan and spending time with friends and family.

However, this one was beginning to take a unexpected turn. It all started when you woke up feeling not too great. You accounted it for bad seafood, however, you were still throwing up a week later. Plus, you could feel your body changing practically, with your boobs feeling off and more body aches, that you account for your period, but then realized your period was supposed to be here two weeks ago.

You didn’t express your concern to Jack since it could be nothing. However, it made you weary enough to go out and get two pregnancy tests just to be sure. Although, if you had to guess, all the symptoms did add up, but you weren’t going to worry just yet.

It was around 12pm when Jack and the guys decided to go out on the boat. Knowing that the waves would mess up your stomach even worse, you decided to stay back, but mostly to take the tests.

“Babe, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Jack asked as he put on his swim trucks. “I can hang back if you need me too.” And you knew that he would if you had told him you needed him, but he had already stayed back with you for the past three days.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll be okay. If I need you, I’ll just text you,” you reply as you bundle up under the covers. Jack walks over to you and places a kiss on your forehead.

“Okay, be sure that you do, I mean it! I will turn that boat around to come be with you!” You nod your head as he places a final kiss to your lips.

As soon as he is out the door, and you look at the window to see that they have boated away, you grab the tests from your purse and head to the bathroom. You let out a breathe as you sit the tests on the counter after doing your business. You set the timer and go back into the bedroom to clean up the pile of clothes to take your mind off of it.

The timer going off rattles you out of your thoughts. Since the thought that you could be pregnant first arose in your mind, you had been thinking about how Jack would react and what you guys would do from then on. However, those are just thoughts and it could come out better than what you’re thinking.

You roll your neck and let out a sigh before picking up the test. You turn it over and you’re hit with the results. Pregnant. Two lines. Positive.

Up until this moment, you hadn’t allowed yourself to think too much on if the results would actually be positive. However, now seeing them, it is everything you have ever wanted. You let out a sob as you sit on the side of the bathtub. You have been dreaming of this moment since meeting Jack. He has made you rethink the possibility of having a family. You couldn’t wait to tell him.

-

The boys made it back home around 4. They were all sunburnt but had the biggest smiles on their faces. Finally getting some time to spend with friends. As soon as they got into the house, Jack barreled up the stairs to find you. You were still laying in bed watching Friends like when he left you.

“Hey, baby. You okay?” He asked as he put his shoes away and grabbed a towel.

You look over to him and smile. “Yeah, I’m doing okay. How was boating?”

“It was great! Luke fell off the wakeboard and nearly drowned but he was okay! Sad you had to miss another day out there, though,” he walks over to your side of the bed and sits next to you, moving a strand of hair out of your eyes. “Are up to take a shower with me? It’s okay, if not.”

You smile weakly, you want to but you also don’t want him noticing your body changes yet, because you wanted to tell him perfectly. “I showered a bit earlier,” you lie, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. Also, we’re cooking out later with everyone, so be ready for some good food. You haven’t thrown up today have you?”

“No, I’ve managed to keep it all down today,” you reply as you run your hand over his thigh. “Hurry and shower, you smell. I’m going to head down and see if anyone needs help cooking.”

“I only smell a little!” He laughs. “That’s fine, but good luck, mom and Quinn will probably kick you out, you know how they are.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t hurt to ask!” You laugh as you watch him take off his swim trucks, throw them in the basket, and head to the bathroom.

Well, you couldn’t tell him tonight, since everyone is going to be here you think to yourself.

-

You truly didn’t think your emotional changes would’ve hit you so quickly, but you were wrong. You knew that Quinn and Ellen like to cook, and they don’t want anyone else to bother helping because they have it under control. However, as soon as they said that they didn’t need your help and all was good, you started sobbing.

Ellen noticing this, comes over and wraps her arms around you. “Y/N, honey, it’s okay. You can help if you want, we have it under control.”

Quinn is confused as to what is happening and is trying to stay focused on seasoning the chicken and steak. Just as he decided to speak up, Jack comes down the steps. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

He replaces his mom in holding you. You sniffly respond, “Nothing, I’m not even sure why I’m crying.” Ellen raises an eyebrow at that. “I just haven’t been able to do anything lately, and I wanted to help.” Jack nods as he looks to his mom for help, she shrugs. Ellen has an idea of what is wrong, but she wasn’t going to bring that up.

Quinn finally speaks up, “You can help chop vegetables, if that’s okay? We didn’t mean anything by it, we just didn’t want to bother you.” He offers a smile before turning back to the steaks.

“Okay, again I don’t why I’m crying. I’ll chop the vegetables.” You say as you turn to look at Jack. He wipes the tear streaks from your face and pats the side of your thighs.

“You go do that, I’m going to find the others and talk to them.” You nod as you go find a knife.

After a while, Ellen comes up to you when Quinn leaves to put the meat on the grill. “Now I don’t want to think I’m calling you anything, I’m just asking, because I care a lot, but is there by a chance that you’re pregnant?”

You swallow and place the knife down and turn to look at her. “Yes, I’m pregnant.” You give her a second, trying to gauge her reaction.

Less than a second goes by, and she’s jumping up and down. “Oh my gosh! My babies are going to have a baby! How long have you known? Is there any problems?”

You shush her before someone walks in because of the commotion. “I just found out this morning, I took a test. I haven’t told Jack yet. So you can’t tell him anything!” She nods as she pulls you into a hug.

She whispers, “Oh my gosh, I’m so excited!”

Just as she says that, Quinn walks back in holding the finished steaks. “So excited about what?” He looks between the both of you, waiting for an answer.

Nervously you blurt out, “We’re just so excited that everyone is here for the cookout!”

He doesn’t fully believe the answer, but he wasn’t go to question it, in fear you’ll break out in tears again. “Okay, awesome,” He places the steak down and turns back around. “Oh, Jack told me to tell you that when you’re done here, he is sitting on the back patio with Alex, Trevor and Cole.”

You nod and reply a thanks. You finish up your vegetables, grab a beer for Jack, and head to the back patio.

-

“Y/N! So good to see you!” You hear Alex say as you make your way out onto the patio. He just arrived last night, but you were passed out asleep by then.

“Alex! Great to see you too!” You give him a hug.

Letting go, you hear Cole say, “Y/N, you bring that beer for me? I needed a new one!”

You laugh as you make your way over to the seat next to Jack. “No, it’s for him,” you answer as you pass the beer to Jack. You can hear Cole pouting as Jack opens the beer.

“Thanks, babe. You aren’t drinking?” Jack asks, looking at you skeptically. He doesn’t care if you don’t drink, it’s your choice, but you usually do in these settings.

You shake your head, “No, I’ve been sick enough, I’m not letting beer destroy me.” Jack nods and places a kiss on your temple.

As you lean back in your chair, you hear the sliding door open again. Trevor yells out, “Y/N! How are you?!”

He sits across the table, you reply back happily, “I’m doing okay, feeling better than I have in the past week!”

Trevor nods, and then blurts out, “For some who has been sick, you can’t even tell!”

As soon as he said that, you can feel the tears coming back. You try to swallow your emotions, not wanting to make a scene, but it’s no use. You start sobbing again in front of everyone. You can feel the eyes suddenly on you. You can feel Jack placing a hand on your back.

You sob out, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Trevor hurriedly speaks out, “I was just saying that you look great!” He’s looking at Jack, begging for help. Jack doesn’t even know why you’re crying.

“Y/N, he was just trying to compliment you, it’s okay,” He’s never been this confused by your sudden emotional outburst, and he’s trying his best to help you. He’s grabs your hand and helps you up, “Come on, let’s go inside and cool down.”

You’re still sobbing into your hands when he pulls you inside and upstairs to your shared room. He walks you over to the bed and helps you sit down. He’s rubbing his hands through your hair, as he knows it calms you down.

Once your sobs lessened, he decides to ask again, “Babe, what happened back there? I get that he can be awful with words, but he was just trying to compliment you.” He tries to reason with you to get an answer.

You know you have to tell him, if not it makes you seem like you’ve lost your mind. “I get that he was trying to compliment me, and I know that earlier that Quinn and Ellen just didn’t want to bother me in helping, but I gotta tell you something, I’m just a bit nervous.”

Jack is rubbing circles on your thigh as he nods, “Baby, you know you can tell me anything, especially if it has you crying all of a sudden.”

You let out a breath and reach over to get the tests out of your nightstand. Holding them, you finally say, “I’m pregnant,” you pass the tests over to him to grab. “I took them this morning. I mean I was throwing up a lot, and my body had some changes. So yeah, I’m pregnant.”

You hold in your breath as you wait for him to respond. He looks at each test before looking up at you. He grabs your chin to get you to look at him before you start crying. “Wait- we’re having a baby?”

You slowly nod your head, scared to speak incase you let out a sob. You finally let out that breath you were holding as soon as Jack gives you the biggest smile.

“We’re having a baby!” He’s instantly pulling you into his arms, not caring that the tests dropped to the ground. “I can’t believe it, we’re going to be parents!” He stands you both up and spins you around.

You grab onto his arms. “Okay, okay! I know we’re excited, but I’m going to puke if we keep spinning!” You laugh as he places you back down with so much concern.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, are you okay? Do you need anything?”

You shake your head and lean in to kiss his lips, smiling you say, “I’m okay, I can’t believe this happening, I’m so happy!”

“Babe, happy doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling, there’s no one else I’d rather do this with,” He leans down to kiss your lips. Pulling apart, he bends down to your stomach.

You ruffle his hair, “I’m not showing yet or anything, but it’s still crazy that it will be growing in there.” Jack leans forward to press a kiss on your stomach.

“I know, so crazy.” He stands back up and pulls you into a hug. You both savor the moment, until you hear knocking on the door.

“Um, guys, I hope all is okay. I just wanted to make sure that Y/N wasn’t going to kill me for what I said, even though I was just complimenting her, but still!” You both laugh as you pull open the door to a scared Trevor. You just pat his arm before walking down the hallway. Trevor looks at Jack to try and decipher if he should be worried, but Jack just shrugs his shoulders and follows in your direction.

When he catches up to you, he puts his arm around your waist, “He’s going to be so confused until we tell him.”

You laugh, “Yeah, he is. That’s what he gets for trying to compliment a pregnant woman!” Jack just shakes his head at your theatrics and kisses your forehead as you make your way back to the patio.

[awkwardoutsidely]

What do the Hazbin Hotel residents smell like??

Alastor: The obvious would be blood, because of his eating habits and activtes, and I agree there would be a metaltic tinge to him, but I personally thing he smells like a fireplace, smoky, maybe a speck of tabacco, also being the radio demon I'd like to think he has an air of ozone to his person, with all the that static going around him. 100/10.

Husk: He drinks, yes and he spend majority day around alchchol, so yes that high octane is def around his person. but with the terroity that comes with being a cat demon, comes with the stight musky scent of cat fur, pleasant in my opinion. very cuddly boy 10/10.

Angel: I acutally think Angel would smell great, probably wears a great perpume, a some floral notes, for sure maybe some sweet notes too! they're miight me and undertone of cigerette smoke from a certain overlord. 8/10

Charile: Sweets, and sugar, gumdrops and rainbows, bursting with pure happiness, and of course sulfur, fire and brim stone. 7/10

Vaggie: In short she probably smells alot like Charile, because she spends so much time together with her, and probably share some of the same products. However being an ex-angel probably adds some resudial 'celestial essence', very clean, very good hygiene too. 7/10

Sir Penious: This master of engineering and inventing , probably smells, a lot like motor oil, and ink from drawing up blue prints for his inventions, he is a little old fashion victorian boy so probably does everything by hand, when it comes to document his inventions, and the obvious snake demon sssscent that come along with it ie musk etc. 6/10

Nifty: The murderous lil bundle, probably smells of one thing. Cleaning supples. Bleach. Toliet cleaner. Mop water. Glass cleaner. She practially bathes in the stuff, On top of the blood of her enemies, I suppose she may smell like what ever Al is cooking in the kitchen when she helps him. 2/10

**********bonus************

Lucifer: This short king of hell, like his daughter probably has alot of sweet undertones, very syurpy, apples etc, on top of having the scent from his workshop, paint, glue, gaseoline. On top of the usual fire and brimstone. 9/10

Rosie: Welcome to Cannibal Town! This dame smells of the latest perfume that's popular around town, a subtle smell of flowers, and maybe something citrus-y, along with the smell of baked goods and tea. Yknow to mask the the smell of the blood and organs, but you know that adds to her charm.7/10

[abbyromanoff]

first of all, hiii :]] I really adore your writing and how you take Marilyn requests because my girl rarely has anything written bout her !!! I also just finished watching Wednesday and got really attached to Ms. Thornhill but wanted to forget what happened in episode 8 for my own sake.

Is it possible if you could write g¡p Marilynxfem!reader where reader is in Ms. Thronhill’s room and they kinda just had too much to drink so reader starts to wander her hands around Marilyn, but she thinks that it’s a bad idea, but gives in to reader when she starts to palms her crotch? could you also maybe add in Marilyn using keywords like ‘hun, sweetheart, darling’ and stuff like that when doing the deed with reader? Also having praising and degradation mixed in? Mostly degradation :]

Thank you and have a good day !!

Temptations

Pairings: Marilyn Thornhill x reader

Word count: 1231

Warnings: Marilyn has a dick, blowjobs, degrading, praising, slightly public sex, crying kink (kinda),

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

“So, what do you think of the party so far?” Marilyn inquired, attempting to put an end to the tense quiet between the two of you.

You looked over at her, her head hanging low in embarrassment. “It’s great, I think it’s amazing they’re doing this stuff for the kids.” She nodded along, agreeing with your statement. She moved a tad bit closer to you, trying not to make it obvious.

“So, would you like a drink?” You thought she meant punch until she showed you a flask she must've been hiding all this time. She pointed further back in the room with her head, placing her hand on your lower back to bring you with her. Neither of you could have the students seeing you, you could get fired. Even if most students were doing it themselves, you couldn’t risk it.

You both stood there, occasionally letting each other have sips before handing it back. Marilyn tried not to stare at your lips, but it was so difficult. The thought of kissing you was unbearable, she wanted to feel your lips against her own.

“Would you want to head back to my room? You know, to discuss work.” She nervously asked. You knew there would be no talking there, she wouldn’t invite you to her bedroom just to talk about work.

“Well, why don't we just discuss work here? Why go to your bedroom for that?” You teased further, holding back your smile at her blushing face.

“Well, it is deafening in here, mine as well go somewhere quieter.” She waited for your response, only to feel a hand tugging her towards the exit. She smirked lightly at the thought of what was to come. You were halfway to her room before you pushed her up against the wall, licking your lips while staring at her. You leaned in, giving her time to back away if she didn’t want it. She met you halfway, connecting her lips with your plump ones. Her fingers went under your chin, holding it delicately as her tongue entered your mouth.

The two of you stood there, making out in the hallway like horny high school students. Her hands went to your hips, her knee going between your thighs. You grinded ever so lightly against her, moaning when the clothing hit your bundle of nerves. Suddenly, it all stopped. You stared at the woman with confusion, only to see her looking around worriedly.

“What’s wrong?” She sighed, looked down, and removed herself from you.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, anyone could catch us. And, you’re my coworker, it’s probably best we don’t make things awkward.”

“Mars, if you really don’t want this, I won’t force you. But, I don’t think that’s actually what you want.” You palmed her crotch, using the pads of your fingertips to rub over her bulge lightly. She hummed, her eyes shutting softly.

“I knew you wanted it. C'mon, no one’s around, let’s have some fun.” Your knees buckled as you dropped, your face lined up directly with her confined length.

“Y/N, we can’t! What if a student walks by? Or Weems?” You only chuckled, continuing to remove her pants as only her boxers were left.

“They’re all at the dance. And if someone does, I’ll just stand up and you can put your clothes back on like nothing ever happened.” You reasoned, smiling when she nodded. Her hands were behind her back, picking the skin near her nails. You removed her undergarments, leaving small pecks all over her throbbing cock.

“Wait.” You stopped, ready to repeat your words from earlier before she spoke once more. “I’ve never gotten a uhm, a blowjob.” You smiled warmly, grabbing one of her hands and kissing the back of it.

“If you’re not ready, we don’t have to.” She shook her head, keeping you down when you tried to stand.

“No, I’m fine. I just wanted to warn you, but you can continue.” You complied, staring up at her as you took the tip in your mouth. You wanted to make her first magical, the best she ever had. You moaned around her, sending vibrations through her shivering body. Her head lurched back and she sighed with contentment, letting out a few whimpers every few seconds. A popping sound could be heard as you released her from your mouth, admiring the way she chased after you. Your hand wrapped around her, stroking up and down to create a rhythm.

“Mm, you taste so good, Mars. Can’t believe I’m the first, I’m so damn lucky.” Your lips went back onto her, sucking the bulbous head as you continued stroking her cock dripping pre-cum. She gained a bit of confidence, gripping your hair to push you down further. She looked down at you, making sure this was okay and she didn’t overstep. Your moan was all the approval she needed, she used your mouth like a fleshlight, forcing you to take as much of her as you could. Your droopy eyes spilling tears made her smile.

“Fuck darling, am I too much for you? Too big for this tight little mouth.” You gagged, feeling her hit the back of your throat.

“That’s it, sweetheart, gag on my dick. Cry for me, you little bitch.” Her soft tone didn’t match the harsh words leaving her, but you found it unbelievably hot.

“My god, your mouth feels so good! Am I the first to fuck this mouth? Hm? Tell me, hun, am I the first?” She let you breathe for a moment, before slapping your face as a warning.

“Y-yes! You’re the first!” It was a lie. You’ve had many encounters like this before, but the way she begged to hear you say it, you couldn’t deny it.

Before you could lower yourself back down, Marilyn stopped you. Her hand replaced yours, her coil snapping as her release painted your face. You opened your mouth, letting some of it hit your tongue before you swallowed. Her hard breaths returned back to normal, she looked at your now covered face and smiled. She stroked your cheek, gathering her juices on her finger. She made you suck on her digits full of her cum, shutting your eyes and basking in the taste.

She picked you up, wrapping your legs around her hips as you were slammed against the wall. Before she could line herself up with your awaiting entrance, a loud ringing came out of nowhere. You both panicked, looking to where the party was as you heard the kids' screams. The two of you put your clothes back on hastily and ran to the room, finding everyone covered in a red substance. You shared a look, acting as normal as possible when your boss walked up to you.

“Where have you two been?” She angrily whispered, seeing your slightly ruined makeup.

“Uh, talking?” Marilyn nodded, her face turning red. She was thankful it was dark, so you couldn’t see how red she was.

“Well, let’s go clean this mess up.” Weems shook her head and walked off, leaving the two of you alone. Marilyn looked at you with a smile, patting your back.

“That was close, we could’ve gotten caught.” You grinned, looking up at her with a smirk.

“Yeah, but it was worth it.” She smiled, kissing your forehead before helping you clean up.

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | Chapter 3

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 3: Puzzle Pieces

Series Summary: When posting bail for Frankie Morales, your former employer and former lover, you unwittingly designate yourself as his third party custodian during his pre-trial release. Your often tumultuous relationship with him is given a new set of rules and put to the test. Can the two of you co-exist peacefully, or will you crash and burn?

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 8.2k+

Content / Warnings: Reader POV, nannying, infant / toddler, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship, flashbacks, awkward conversations, first date, first kiss, platonic (???) cuddling, confrontation, argument

Notes: Yeeehaw hi, friends. I don't know that I've mentioned this previously, but "reader" is like mid-to-late 20's for the purposes of this story, so there's a bit of an age gap there. And there was a power imbalance with their relationship to begin with and stuff so I'm just putting that out there. This chapter gives big "Bike Scene" by Taking Back Sunday vibes if you're into that lol. That's all I have for now! Thank you for reading.

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Finally, it’s quiet. 

You’re not sure if it’s a full moon or what the fuck is going on, but today has been particularly hellish in the Howard household. 

The youngest two children, Ashton and Jaxson, are four and three, respectively. Which can be great when they play together, or when you find activities for the three of you to do while the oldest is at school. But then there are days like this, when neither of them want to do the same thing and both of them want your undivided attention. You can barely finish appeasing one before the other starts crying. 

To add to the chaos, when the eldest Howard child, Emmaleigh, came home from school, she promptly stomped up the stairs to her bedroom, then slammed and locked the door. As Jaxson tugged on your shirt and screeched for you to continue reading names of different species of whales pictured in his animal encyclopedia, you tried to coax her out of the room to tell you what was wrong, but she wouldn’t budge. 

On days like this, by the time Marla gets home, you’re essentially a bundle of nerves with knotted muscles. 

You take another peek into the family room, where Ashton and Jaxson are settled into the cushy microfiber sectional watching Finding Nemo. They both seem content and neither of them notice your presence, so you tiptoe up the stairs to the main level, into the kitchen. 

With a heavy sigh, peel the electric blue post-it note off the dull, cream colored vinyl countertop. The message, written in Marla’s neat, rounded hand, reads: OK to DoorDash dinner. 

“Thank fucking god,” you mutter under your breath, then pad over the dark hardwood floor to a laptop sitting open on the dining room table. As you place an order for food from a local burger joint, you mentally give thanks to Marla again. Not only will dinner from Emmaleigh’s favorite restaurant lift her spirits, but it takes a load off your mind. 

You’ve nannied for about a half a dozen families, and Marla is the most easygoing mom you’ve dealt with by far. Generally speaking, you’ve found your families with two or more children are less rigid than families with one child. You think that Marla is especially lax because she’s a single mother and, as the founder and CEO of an adult toy company, a bona fide hashtag girl boss. She knows that her children can be a handful and isn’t immune to giving in to their demands for junk food and screen time. 

Your last job, with the Morales’s, was much more structured. Angie had very specific instructions, typed up the night before and automatically emailed to you at 6am each morning. Of course, you could have pinpointed her as type A during your interview, when she pulled your resume out of a color-coded accordion file of potential candidates, followed by a pre-printed list of questions she used to jot down your responses. 

Her shiny red fingernails were long and pointed to sharp tips that clacked against the tabletop of a local coffee shop. Round, brown eyes with little flecks of gold looked up from her questionnaire to you as the interview came to a close. 

“The hours are 7 AM to 6 PM, Monday through Friday. My husband gets home at 4, but I would need you to stick around and make dinner while he helps with Sarah.”

“Oh, ok,” you nodded, frowning in confusion at the overlap. 

She leaned forward slightly, as if letting you in on a secret, and explained, “He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. I love the man but he’s useless in the kitchen.” 

You chuckled at this, grinning, “I get that a lot, actually. I just don’t usually get an extra set of hands to help me with the kids.” 

“He’ll stay out of your way, don’t worry,” she winked, then took another cursory glance at the questionnaire before telling you, “Well, you’re definitely the most qualified person I’ve interviewed. I think you’d be a great fit for us. What do you think?“ 

“Is- is that a job offer?” you stammered. After your last family’s mom was laid off a month prior, you were abruptly out of work. This was the break you desperately needed. 

Her cherry red lips curved into a disarming smile and she nodded, “But, if you need time to think about it-”

“No,” you interjected, almost a little too forcefully, then softened and added, “I’d love to.” 

Before noon on your first day working for the Morales’s, you had grown attached to Sarah. The six-month old baby had a chocolate soft serve swirl of hair right at the top of her head like a crown, and it wiggled like jell-o every time her big bobble head would sway and jostle. Her deep brown eyes were round and expressive. Whenever you had one-sided conversations with her, she'd coo and babble in response, raising or furrowing her eyebrows, like she was contributing even though she couldn’t understand a lick of what you said. 

After laying her down for a nap, as you tiptoed down the hallway away from her bedroom, a picture frame hanging on the wall caught your eye. You stopped to examine the photo of Mr. and Mrs. Morales from their wedding day.

Angelica’s pearly, knee-length dress hugged her hourglass shape. A white tulle shawl hung over her shoulders and draped down her arms, rhinestones scattered across the fabric. Her jet black hair was loosely pinned back, save for a few strands of long, wavy bangs left to frame her heart-shaped face. Her makeup was done up as fiercely as it was that morning and during your interview. Razor-point black winged eyeliner painted on behind her long, black lashes. Perfectly arched eyebrows. Her alluring lips were shiny and red, just like her fingernails.

Who you assumed to be Mr. Morales wore a fitted black suit, but no tie. He had bronzed skin and broad shoulders that pulled his posture straight. The man’s brown hair showed the beginnings of curls, his sparse facial hair trimmed close to the skin, save for a pronounced mustache. He had a strong nose and chin. His dark brown eyes and dimpled smile made your stomach flutter. 

The happy couple stood next to each other on the steps of what looked like either a church or a courthouse. Mr. Morales had one arm tucked behind his bride, whose hands were clasped around a small bouquet of white lilies. Both leaned their heads towards the other while they faced the camera and flashed the kind of practiced smile reserved for professional photographers. 

Blood rose to your cheeks when you realized you were staring at the groom and attraction was pooling between your thighs. You glanced around self-consciously, then down at the floor as you made your way to the living room. 

For the remainder of the afternoon, time worked like a garrote, twisting around your neck, tighter with each minute that drew you closer to 4:00. 

When he came home, you were participating in tummy time with Sarah. She babbled and blew spit bubbles at you, careening her wobbly baby head around to focus on your smiling face. The heavy door to the garage opened and slammed shut. Your heart skipped a beat when he ascended the stairs and looked around, doling out a polite smile and wave to you. 

“Hi there,” you greeted, then asked Sarah in baby talk, “Is that your daddy? Do you wanna go see him?” 

She cooed. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you chuckled, then rolled to your knees and propped her on your hip as you stood. 

“How was she?” he asked, tilting his head with a smile to Sarah. The dulcet baritone of his voice reverberated through your chest. You swallowed hard as you realized that he’s so much more handsome in person. 

“She was great! Woke up from a nap about an hour ago, then she ate 8 oz from her bottle. Did a little tummy time, as, um, as you can see,” you handed her off to him. As you did this, his hand slid over yours accidentally. It was rough and warm and made your stomach flip. Your heart was thudding like you had just run a marathon. 

He nodded at Sarah, copying her wide dimpled smile, then met your eyes, “Ang said you might need my help while you cook?” 

When he made eye contact with you, all the air left your lungs and your brain short-circuited. He blinked in anticipation of your response, causing you to snap out of your daze, stuttering, “Y-yeah, sorry, um- yeah,” you winced in embarrassment, “She wanted me to make dinner when you got home, said you could help with Sarah while I do that.”

When you looked back up again he was smirking at you. That did not help the state of your composure. Your face was like a heat lamp and you averted your gaze, “I can get started on that now.” 

While retreating into the kitchen, you pulled out your phone and found the recipe Mrs. Morales sent to you. He followed you into the kitchen, sans baby, heavy work boots clunking against the fake honey oak linoleum flooring. You tried to act as normal as possible when you turned to the fridge and he was already there, bending over to get a beer out of the crisper and asking, “You want one?” 

As desperately as you wanted to say yes, abso-fucking-lutey yes, it was your first day with this family, so you declined. 

“Do you drink?” he questioned further, still hanging over the open drawer in the fridge when he peered up at you. 

You nodded, “Yeah, but…” 

He fished out a second beer, then pushed the crisper closed with his foot and stepped away from the fridge, chuckling, “I think you need it.”

Teeth clenching your tongue flat, you fought the urge to tell him to shut up. You approached the open fridge and retrieved the necessary ingredients before nudging it closed with your hip, “I don’t know. I don’t want your wife to get mad at me. Um, drinking on the job and all.” 

While you told him this, he twisted the cap off of one bottle and put it on the counter next to him, then the second, which he placed on the stovetop for you. As he stepped back and leaned against the counter to face you again, he said, “I won’t tell on you, don’t worry.” 

Your heart was in your throat attempting to strangle you. You turned around and flashed a joking eye roll at him as you accepted the bottle, “Sure.”

He winked, grabbing his beer as he pushed off the counter towards the living room, calling back, “Let me know if you need anything.” 

“Um, yeah, same,” you laughed nervously. 

Frankie slams the passenger side car door shut and you put the car into drive, “How’d the meeting go?” 

His seatbelt locks in place with a click. He stretches out in the seat that’s now constantly set to his preference: slid as far back as it can go, reclined to a wide, obtuse angle. His knees settle far apart and he looks out the window, pressing his fingers to his lips as he shakes his head. 

Your nostrils flare at this annoying lack of response, but you try again, “I already ate, do you need me to stop anywhere for you?” 

He doesn’t move when he mumbles, “I’m fine, thanks.” 

You roll your eyes and turn the radio up in an attempt to dampen your irritation with his brooding. 

After arriving at home, both of you trudge inside to your separate bedrooms. You strip off your day clothes and replace them with a baggy, tie-dyed t-shirt and a pair of black cotton shorts. Your skin still feels too tight, muscles too tense for comfort. 

Fuck, you want a beer. Or a lay. Or both. Some kind of release. 

Your phone buzzes from your nightstand, so you grab it and find a new message notification from Tinder. 

> RORY:  > You free tomorrow night? 

With a grimace, you toss your phone onto your bed, then exit your bedroom to find Frankie rummaging through the fridge for something to eat. He has also made a wardrobe change into lounge wear, retiring his hat for the evening, sporting a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, weathered Metallica t-shirt. 

“Did you change out of your crabby pants, too, or are those on under your sweats?” you tease. 

He scoffs and glances over at you, “I’m not crabby.” 

“Sure you’re not,” you tiptoe past him into the living room, where you collapse onto the couch and turn the TV on. 

Flipping through Netflix for a while gives you little inspiration. The chair in the dining room groans as Frankie sits down to eat whatever he was able to find. You holler to him, “Whadda you wanna do tonight?” 

“Besides get hammered?” his response from the dining room table is muffled by the food in his mouth. 

“Obviously,” you snort.

“Mmm,” he hums, pauses for a beat, then sighs, “Fuck, I don’t know.” 

You scrunch your nose up and try to brainstorm ideas. Immediately your mind plummets into the gutter, reminding you how fucking hard he made you cum on Monday. The memory electrifies your skin and sends your heart racing in your chest.

It was so fucking reckless. 

Reckless and perverse and so fucking hot you wanted to tear your own skin off afterwards. 

Whatever the opposite of that is. 

“Do you wanna do a puzzle?” you call back to him. 

At first he snickers, “A puzzle?” But then another moment passes and he asks, “What kind of puzzle?” 

“I have a few. Let’s see,” you squint up at the shelf on your wall that’s lined with boxes of board games and puzzles, “Freddie Mercury, pandas, space, or gnomes.” 

You hear him chewing as he soaks in these options, then he says, “Freddie Mercury.” 

While he finishes eating, you clear off your coffee table and pull the box down from the shelf. 

“A thousand pieces? Goddamn,” he sits down on the floor across the table from you, dusting his hands off before sifting through the box of puzzle pieces. 

“We don’t have to finish it tonight,” you tell him as you scoop some into your hand and pick through them, “Try to find the edge pieces.” 

The two of you isolate all the jigsawed pieces with at least one flat side and spread them, shiny, printed side up across the table. As you click a few together, Frankie’s cell phone rings. 

When he pulls his phone out of his pocket, your eyes flick to the screen and see Angie’s contact photo. It’s a selfie they took together while on vacation in Australia, their smiling faces shiny with sweat and rosy from booze. Your stomach knots. 

“Hey,” Frankie answers. 

His dark eyes scan the room and meet yours. You immediately drop your gaze to the puzzle pieces and hum to yourself as you blatantly eavesdrop. 

“Yeah, does that still work for you?” 

There’s an indistinguishable soprano response from his wife. 

“Let me check,” he says to Angie, then holds the phone to his shoulder and mumbles to you, “Hey do you think you could give me a ride tomorrow morning at 10?” 

You nod without looking up at him. 

“Yeah that works,” he tells her, shortly followed by, “Ok. Yep. Love you, bye.” 

A stake plunges through your heart. 

He puts the phone back in his pocket and resumes his thorough examination of the puzzle pieces, eventually mumbling, “Thank you, by the way. For giving me a ride.” 

“Sure,” you glance up and flash him a quick smile. When you turn your attention back to the puzzle, you ask, “Are you excited to see Sarah?” 

“Yeah,” his voice is lifted and warm, and you can tell he’s smiling, “Fuck, I miss her so much.”

What you want to say is I do too, because it’s the truth. That attachment you had to her never really went away. But it seems pointless. 

“Are you guys doing anything or just sticking around the house?” you ask. 

“We’re gonna go to the zoo, then Ang is gonna throw something together for dinner,” he clicks two puzzle pieces together and hums thoughtfully to himself. 

“Is she still super into penguins?” 

He chuckles, “Yeah. Last time me and Ang took her, she started screaming every time we tried to leave the exhibit.” 

You laugh and shake your head, “Every goddamn time. I always had to bribe her with ice cream.”

“She’s so stubborn,” he grins and sits up on his knees to lean over the puzzle and get a closer look, “Just like her mom.” 

A weight pulls at your stomach. You feel obligated to ask, so you do, “How are things with you and her mom?” 

He’s quiet as he contemplates this, staring at the shiny pieces, thrumming his fingers against the table. With a sigh, he answers, “I don’t know.” 

You try to keep your breaths metered, as to not give away the thudding in your chest. Adrenaline-spiked blood whooshes in your ears. 

Frankie continues, “Things were better when I got arrested, but, you know…” 

Your eyebrow raises on its own accord, but you don’t comment. If things were better, why was he doing blow and driving drunk? Nope, none of your fucking business. 

Not my chair, not my problem. 

“I’m kind of nervous about it, actually,” he admits quietly, “Spending time with her and all that. I really want things to work.”

“Why?” your mouth asks before your brain can tell you to shut the fuck up. 

“She’s my wife. And- and the mother of my child,” he scoffs and shakes his head, “I love her.” 

The sharpness in his tone drives the stake in your heart down further. Your eyes flick to his and see that he’s studying your face, stare hardened to steel. Those three words eat away at you. What he said was: I love her. But you know what he wanted to say was: I love her. 

You nod in response, dropping your gaze back to the puzzle. Your body moves autonomously, clicking a few puzzle pieces together, scanning for matching patterns, while your mind plays it over and over. 

I love her. 

I love her. 

I love her. 

Static buzzes in your chest. Your throat feels tight, so you clear it, then tell him, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to pick you up afterwards.” 

“Why not?”

“I have a date,” you inform him, glancing up to gauge his reaction. 

“Oh,” he murmurs, then frowns, “That shouldn’t be a problem.” 

Silence settles over the two of you. It’s just the scrape and click of puzzle pieces across the tabletop and hums of contemplation. You notice the way he seems to get buried in his thoughts, pressing his fingers to his lips, gnashing his jaw back and forth. A sick satisfaction roils inside you. 

You decide to call it a night when the edge of the puzzle is put together. When you sink into your bed, you open Tinder and send a response to Rory. 

< ME: < Definitely. What’re you thinking? 

The message is opened immediately, and he responds. 

> RORY:  > Wanna get dinner? 

< ME: < Yes please :)

> RORY:  > Pick you up at 6? 

< ME: < It's a date

The BBQ place Rory takes you to is busy and loud, its high ceilings making plenty of space for every noise to ricochet off the wood paneled walls down into your eardrums. You’re seated across from him, resting your chin in your palms, elbows pressing into the wobbly table top as you listen to him talk about his job as a personal trainer. When you shift in your seat, your legs stick to the black vinyl upholstery, and you wince at the sensation.

Your eyes trail his rigid biceps that pull his t-shirt sleeves taught. A faded black tribal tattoo peaks out from beneath the white fabric. From the shirtless pictures on his Tinder, you happen to know he has a whole collection of douchey tattoos lining his sun-tanned, muscular body, but you might be willing to overlook that. 

You mark his tattoos down in the “things you don’t like” column in your brain. 

Rory is conventionally attractive in a very masculine way, his face all hard angles with a dimpled, squared off jaw. Straight, white teeth are almost always visible behind the peak of his thin, bow-shaped lips.

He seems like the kind of person that has a standing appointment with a hairdresser that knows exactly how to trim his hair into a close, neat cut without him giving instructions. You’re willing to bet he takes a shower at exactly 6 AM every day, then applies just enough product to make his golden brown hair stand at attention. He probably food preps and has like six hard boiled eggs or something equally rich in protein for breakfast each morning. 

Every part of him seems disciplined and routine. Stable. You mark that down in the “things you like” column. 

When he asks you what you do for a living, you tell him, and he asks how you got into the nannying business. 

“Growing up, I took care of my younger siblings all the time. I’d babysit for the neighbors and stuff, too. It just naturally evolved after I graduated high school,” you tell him, meeting his stunning hazel eyes with an easy smile.

“Do you have a big family?” he crosses his arms on the table and leans in. The off-kilter base of the table responds, shifting towards him. 

You nod, “I have an older brother and three little sisters. My brother, Ben, is two years older than me. My sister, Marlene, is four years younger. Then there’s Leah, who was born two years later. And Rachel is the baby, who came a year after Leah.” 

“Five kids,” he marvels, “Wow. No wonder you had to help out so much.” 

You smile politely at this, although you know your role as their caregiver had more to do with your parents’ active social calendar than the sheer number of children. 

“Do you want kids?” Rory inquires, his brow furrowing in a way that tells you the answer is important to him. 

“Oh, definitely,” you respond, take a sip of your water, then continue, “I don’t know about five, that seems like overkill, but more than one for sure.” 

This seems to please him. His lips curl into a smile. 

“What about you? Do you have any siblings? Want any kids?” you stab the ice in your glass of water with the straw, then return your eyes to his. 

“Two brothers. I’m the middle child,” he rubs his hands together and smirks, “And, yes, kids are no doubt a priority for me.” 

You smile and nod in acknowledgment. Mark it down in the “things you like” column. 

His eyes linger on yours and you feel blood rush to your cheeks. The waitress appears with two trays of food, placing them on the table. As you eat, you find out that Rory was born and raised close to where you were, in another coastal town off the Gulf of Mexico. He was transferred to Kissimmee about two years ago as part of a job promotion. 

“What brought you here?” he questions, then picks up the ribs on his tray and tears a chunk of meat off the bone. 

You shake your head, “Moved here with my ex-boyfriend. He was from the area originally. I needed to get the fuck out of my hometown, so he suggested moving here.” 

You kick yourself for mentioning your self-exile from Ruskin, and hope to god he doesn’t ask why you needed to leave. First dates are no place to recount the ruthless campaign ran against you until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“What happened with him?” 

A sigh of relief expands your lungs. You answer, “Fell in love with his high school sweetheart.” 

“Wow, that blows,” he frowns, “Been there. Cheated on. It feels terrible.” 

“That it does,” you mutter, pushing kernels of corn around the white plastic bowl on your tray, “He told me about it when it happened, at least. And they’re really happy together. Got married and had kids and all that.”

“No offense, but he’s still an idiot,” he declares with conviction, “I mean, who would do that to someone as gorgeous as you? Besides, cheaters are all scum.”

The compliment warms your insides. You smile demurely and bat your eyelashes at him outwardly, while inwardly you make a mental note to never mention your past with Frankie to him. 

After you finish eating, Rory pays the check and drives you back to your house. The living room is illuminated through the window facing the street. When he puts the car in park, he glances up at it and frowns, “Do you live with someone?” 

“Yeah,” you chuckle nervously, “I have a roommate. They must’ve come home while we were out.” 

“Can I walk you to your door?” His voice is low and sultry. 

You bite your bottom lip and nod. 

He tells you to stay put as he comes around the car to open your door for you. As you walk side-by-side up the cracked sidewalk that leads your house, his hand finds the small of your back. There’s a nervous energy pulsing through your veins, thickening with each step. 

When you reach the foot of your porch steps, he turns to you, meeting your gaze and holding it, “I had a really good time tonight.” 

You face him, and his hand slides to your waist. A tingle spreads across your chest and heats your cheeks, “So did I.” 

His eyes flick to your lips. He leans in. You mirror the movement, eyelids fluttering closed as his lips meet yours. He tastes like peppermint and smells like conifer trees. The kiss is mechanical and his hand is stiff at your waist. It doesn’t awaken anything hungry within you, but it’s nice. 

When you pull away, you look up at him through your eyelashes, “Goodnight, Rory.” 

“Goodnight,” he smiles wide, big white teeth taking up half his face. 

When you open the front door and step inside, Frankie is mid-movement, sitting down on the couch. 

“Hey,” you call as you lean against the closed door and pull off your wedge sandals. 

“Hi,” he responds, sitting up straight. 

It amazes you how much the one syllable says. The slightly panicked upward inflection, the tensing of his shoulders, how out-of-breath he seems. He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward, hands clasped together, knuckles white.

You drop your purse on the ground, “You getting anywhere on the puzzle?” 

He hums and nods, “I’ve assembled quite a few mustaches.” 

You tiptoe across the carpet and kneel down opposite him, scanning the clumps of puzzle that he’s managed to complete. It entrances you immediately, your fingers and brain working in tandem, making the world fade into the background. Some time passes before you feel Frankie staring at you. You look up at him and meet his eyes, “What?” 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head and smirks. 

You blink at him and raise your eyebrows, “Bullshit.” 

His smirk breaks out into a smile that tugs at your heart, the way his eyes crinkle into crescents and his cheeks dimple. He drops his gaze to the table and taps his lips, then shrugs, “You just look really nice. That dress was a good choice.” 

“Thanks,” you mutter, returning your attention to the puzzle, ignoring the flutter in your chest. 

“How was your date?” he asks, trying to seem disinterested, even though his shoulders hunch up to his ears and his jaw clenches. 

“So good. I think for our next date, we’ll get married,” you tease, glancing up to flash him an amused smile. 

“Hilarious,” he rolls his eyes. His knee starts bouncing and he inquires, “Have you been seeing him for a while or is this a… recent development?” 

“It was literally our first date,” you raise an eyebrow at him, then shrug, “He was nice, though. We have a lot in common. I’ll probably see him again.” 

He shifts in his seat, but says nothing, so you don’t say anything, either. You find a few more puzzle pieces that correspond and click them together. 

“How was the zoo?” you inquire, looking up to search his face, noting his far-away eyes and pouting lips. 

“Good,” he answers with strained positivity, “We’re gonna do something next Saturday. Not sure what yet.” 

“That’s good,” you tell him. Your voice is dripping with an overly ripe kind of sweetness that seems disingenuous and repulsive. By the way he blinks up at you with a droopy, blank expression, you’re certain he senses it, too. Blood rises to your face and you bite down on your tongue, pulsing your teeth against the soft muscle, savoring the sharp pain the motion causes.

You take a deep breath in, exhaling through slack lips that make a buzzing pbpbpbp sound, then ask, “What do you wanna do for dinner tomorrow?” 

He frowns, “Whatever you want, I don’t care.” 

“Good talk,” you mutter under your breath, then rise to your feet, “Do you need to use the bathroom before I take a shower?” 

Frankie shakes his head without looking up from the puzzle. His fingers press against the pillowy flesh of his lips. You feel an urge to scream at him, to push his buttons somehow, anything just to get him to react, but you drop it. 

Once you’ve showered and changed into comfier clothing, you return to the living room and find Frankie laying on his side, curled up on the couch, a pillow wedged between his cheek and his hands. Jungle Boogie by Kool & The Gang is playing behind the opening credits of Pulp Fiction on the TV. You approach with caution, “Do you mind if I join you?” 

“Not at all,” he answers and goes to sit up. 

“You can stay there, it’s fine,” you tell him. He relaxes back into his previous position as you grab a blanket and pillow from a wicker basket next to the TV, “Want a blankie?” 

“Fuck yeah.” 

His enthusiastic response brings a smile to your face. You grab another blanket and drape it over his body before settling into the opposite end of the couch and stretching out. He seems stiff when you pile your legs on his over the middle cushion, so you pull your knees up a little further, closer to your body. 

“I wanna ask you a question but I want you to know it’s ok to say no,” he says in a somber voice. Your heart immediately starts sprinting. 

“What?” you furrow your brow and look over to meet his eyes, but he’s staring at the TV with a blank expression. 

“Will you cuddle with me?”

Your stomach flips upside down. You search his face in question, unsure what to say. No, probably. The two of you literally just had a conversation about keeping your relationship platonic less than a week ago. What the fuck? 

He finally glances at you and sees the confusion. His forehead creases and his foot starts bouncing under your calf. 

He elaborates, “I’m freaking out right now and I think it would help. No funny business, though, I swear to god. I just…”

As he trails off, his eyebrows part and face softens. He shakes his head like he can’t explain it further. His eyes are shiny in the light of the TV and he looks like he’s tearing up. You’ve never seen him cry. But the panic can do weird things. You’re well acquainted with the panic, unfortunately. 

You swallow hard and nod, “Y-yeah, that’s fine.” 

There’s a momentary ruckus while the two of you scoot and reconfigure. Your back settles against his chest and one of his arms tucks under your cheek. The other wraps around your belly, drawing you close, “You comfy?”

“Yeah,” you answer. 

“Are you sure this is ok?” he asks. His voice is low and shaky. It vibrates against your skin and sinks down into the marrow of your bones. If you’re still enough, and keep your breaths shallow enough, you can feel his bass drum heart pounding in his chest at a bpm familiar to you. 

“Yeah, it’s fine, Frankie,” you assure him, enveloping his hand at your belly with your own. He takes a deep breath and the exhale tickles your ear.

On the TV, Jules Winnfield and Vincent Vega are chatting about hash, but you can barely pay attention. 

Frankie’s warmth is a sedative. It always has been. Much to your disdain, you hope the feeling is mutual. And you think it could be, because his thudding heart seems to slow. His body relaxes against yours. 

And it’s so unfair how he can make you feel like this. How, one second he makes you so nervous you could puke, or so frustrated you want to scream in his face, then the next he’s holding you and it’s like your soul is finally resting here with his. 

You think about your date with Rory. He was a gentleman and seems like he’s stable and nice enough. The kiss was fine, good even, but not electric. And that’s fine, because in your experience, first kisses are almost always lackluster. 

Your first kiss with Frankie was like lightning, though. 

Months passed working for the Morales family and you came to be more comfortable with Frankie being around while you cooked dinner. Your conversations were mostly functional, about Sarah or things around their house. But you found him charming and your crush only grew more intense. 

Sometimes you would watch Sarah on Saturday nights so he and Angie could go out on a date. One of these Saturdays, they came home at 1 AM, and Angie was hammered. 

She stumbled up the stairs and plopped down on the couch next to you. Her black hair was mussed and she was all giggly. She said something in Spanish to Frankie, and turned to you, “Do you wan’ chicken strips?” 

“You- you don’t have to feed me, that’s ok, Mrs. Morales-” you stammered, going to stand up and get ready to leave.

“Oh hun, call me Angie, I’m begging you,” she grabbed your arm, “And stay, please! Chicken strips! Come on, hang out with me.” 

“Um…” You glanced around to gauge Frankie’s reaction, but he was in the kitchen preheating the oven, so you nodded, “Sure, ok.” 

“Yay!” Angie clapped, then sprawled out on the couch and propped her heels up on your leg, “Do me a favor, hun, take these off for me?” 

You chuckled and examined the shiny silver clasp of her stilettos, working to undo the strap across her foot as she asked, “So what’s your deal, are you single, do you have a boyfriend, girlfriend, what?” 

“Ang, come on,” Frankie chided from the kitchen as he pulled a few beers from the fridge. 

“What? I’m just asking!” she scoffed at him, then tilted her head at you with a hazy drunk smile, waiting for you to answer. 

You managed to unclasp her shoes, despite her wiggling, and they thudded to the floor one by one.  

Frankie walked past, handing an open beer bottle to you, then another to her, before sitting down on the loveseat. He kept glancing over at you and Angie, then up at the TV, which was playing King of the Hill. 

“I’m single, yeah,” you sighed and took a sip of beer, “Unfortunately.” 

“Hey, nothing wrong with that, girlie. Enjoy it while you still can.” Angie said, then set her full beer bottle on the ground and groaned, “Oh my god I have to get out of this fucking dress. I’ll be back, don’t go anywhere.” 

She marched off into their bedroom, swaying gently as she walked. This was all very amusing to you because you had never seen her be anything but intimidatingly perfect. 

You pulled out your phone and scrolled for a bit, sipping at your beer while waiting for her. Every once in a while, you found yourself looking over at Frankie, who was picking at the label on his beer bottle with his eyes glued to the TV. 

A shrill beep from the oven indicated it was preheated. He rose to his feet and walked down the hallway to their bedroom. You heard the click of the door closing, then he returned to the living room and asked, “She’s passed out, do you really want chicken strips?” 

“No, not really,” you chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear and dropping your gaze to your beer bottle. 

“And you don’t have to stay or anything like that, no pressure,” he advised. 

You glanced up at him and got caught in his dark, warm eyes for a moment before you shook your head, “No, I’ll stay and finish this, if that’s ok.” 

“Of course, make yourself at home,” he assured you with an easy smile, then sat down in the middle of the couch, just a foot away from you. 

And you fucking knew what you were doing by staying. That’s the worst part. Attraction hung thick in the air between your bodies. It dampened your skin and condensed inside you. 

Every so often in the weeks preceding, you caught him staring at you, and vice versa. More and more, the eye contact lingered just a bit longer than appropriate. Just long enough to make you wonder. It seized your heart and pumped all the blood in your body between your legs and up your neck. 

The prospect of his affection was on your mind all the fucking time. Every time he’d laugh at one of your jokes, or brush up against you in passing, or find a reason to touch you intentionally, you wanted it to last forever. 

But you didn’t initiate anything. You were content admiring him from afar, wondering if his lingering looks meant he wanted you, too. He was at least fifteen years older than you, married, and your fucking employer. There was no way in hell you would risk your livelihood by making a move on him, no matter how tempted you were. 

If he pursued you, though… that would be different. And you desperately wanted him to. 

“I’m sorry about Ang,” he said, leaning back against the couch, “She drank a lot tonight.” 

You chuckled and shook your head, “Totally fine. We all have to let loose every once and a while.” 

He hummed in agreement, and your eyes flicked to his, and they were so intent on your face that your heart started racing. 

“And how do you like to let loose?” he rumbled, his gaze dropping to your mouth. 

Your lips parted. You managed to quirk a brow and breathe, “Are you sure you wanna know?” 

Frankie sat forward, taking your beer and setting it on the ground. You could smell his whiskey-soaked mouth. The woody scent of his cologne. His hand rested on your knee. A shiver jolted across your skin and you swallowed hard. 

“I think I might know,” he murmured, sliding his hand down further, setting his thumb into motion against your tender inner thigh, leaning closer. 

“This is a bad idea,” you warned him in a whisper, but brought yourself closer to his beckoning lips, insides coiling tight, begging for you to just fucking do it. 

“Terrible idea,” he agreed, brushing his nose against yours, bringing his hand to your chin, holding it as he took the plunge and pressed his lips against yours. 

The kiss was a slow peck that lingered with heat, and when he peeled his lips from yours, murmuring, “Sorry-” you grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him back in, all hot-blooded and eager, savoring the softness of his pillowy lips, the harsh liquor burn on his breath. You couldn’t help but whimper as his tongue rolled wet against yours. He renewed it with hungry urgency, cupping your cheeks, pulling you closer, both of you completely lost and breathless. 

You tried to sit up, to get closer, to crawl inside him if you could, but knocked over the bottle of beer with a sharp clink. Both of you jumped apart at the disruption. 

“Shit,” he hissed and stood up, striding to the kitchen. You stood up, too, trying to catch your breath and regain your composure. The spell was broken. The weight of what just happened crashed down on you all at once. 

You snatched your purse up off the floor just as he came back into the room with a wad of paper towels. 

“I’m sorry-” you faltered. 

He shook his head, “No, no, don’t worry, it’s fine.” 

“No it’s not fine, you’re-” your eyes darted to the closed bedroom door where his wife was sleeping and whispered, “You’re married. And- and- I work for you, I’m an idiot. I just have a stupid crush. An- and I won’t do it again.”

“Hey, no, don’t-” his voice was pleading and soft. He reached out to you but you shook your head and dropped your eyes to the ground, crossing your arms. 

“I have to go, but I’ll see you on Monday, ok?” you pushed past him to leave. 

The whole drive home, the whole next day, you were so fucking mad at yourself. You had never done something like that with your employer. It was unprofessional and wrong. 

Yet… 

The kiss consumed you. It’s all you could think about. You wanted it to happen again. You wanted it to go further. It set you on fire and the flames felt fucking exquisite. 

And now, as Frankie is holding you, nuzzling against your shoulder, and you feel whole and calm and safe like you can’t with anyone else, you wonder for the millionth time if you’ll ever find this with someone who loves you back. 

You drag the silver tines of your fork across the barest section of your ceramic plate just to watch Frankie squirm at the ear-piercing squeak. Family dinner again. A stalemate for who goes first again. 

“I’m gonna keep doing this until you start,” you advise, then make the noise happen again, “I can do this all night.” 

He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, sending his cap onto the floor behind him, “It’s just gonna start a fight.” 

“I don’t give a shit,” you blink and prop your chin up on the heel of your palm, “Not saying anything will also start a fight, so…” 

Frankie just swings his head back to neutral and stares at you, his arms crossed, elbows resting on the table. 

You scrape your fork against the plate and smirk at him. 

“Jesus fucking Christ fine,” he groans, running his hands down his face before crossing his arms again. His eyes meet yours and he opens his mouth to speak, letting it gape for a moment, then admits, “While we’re living together, I think maybe…”

He snaps his mouth shut into a straight line and drops his eyes to your picked over plate. You rub the tines back and forth against the ceramic rapidly, “Just say it, come on, Franklin.” 

He glares at you, half joking, and scoffs, “You know that’s not my name,” then he reaches across the table, trying to snatch the utensil from you hand, “And I’m gonna take that goddamn fork away-”

“The fuck you are,” you laugh as you pull it away from his reach, then try to coax him to complete his thought, “While we’re living together, you think maybe…?”

“I think maybe we shouldn’t have other people over,” he tells you quietly, sitting back in his seat with a sigh, meeting your eyes for a moment before dropping them to the table. 

“What do you mean by other people?” you search his face. 

“Dates, you know, like,” the muscles in his face tense as he clenches his jaw and grinds his teeth together. 

You drop your fork on the plate and cross your arms, “Like the guy I went out with last night? Like you don’t want me to date other people while you’re living here? Really?”

“Like I don’t want to hear you getting fucking railed-”

“This is my fucking house, Francisco, and we are not dating,” you bite off, “Just because you’re jealous doesn’t mean I have to be abstinent-”

“I’m not asking you to take a fucking vow of celibacy, I’m just saying I don’t want to see or hear that shit when I’m here,” he argues. 

“Because you’re jealous,” you state. 

“Sure,” he shakes his head, “Whatever.” 

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” you spit. 

“What?! How?” he barks, throwing his hands up at his sides. 

“Do you know how many times I had to see you and Angie kissing and holding hands and making fucking goo-goo eyes at each other?” you grind out, shaking your head in disbelief, “But I can’t have people I’m dating in my own house? Ok, Frankie.”

“That is not the sa-”

“Bullshit,” you lean into the word as you hurl it at him, then scoff and tell him, “When I went to Australia with you guys, I heard you fucking her every single night. Did you know that?” 

His eyes flick to yours. He’s scowling like a sullen child. 

“Then you would wait until she fell asleep and- and you would come to me,” you feel the pain from this buried memory surfacing in your chest, burning behind your eyes, “And you smelled like her, and I was-” a sob bubbles up your throat. Tears roll hot down your cheeks, and you meet his eyes so he can understand, “I was so fucking in love with you, Frankie.” 

His face softens and his shoulders sag. 

“So I really don’t want to hear how uncomfortable my love life makes you while you’re living here,” you sniffle, then wipe your eyes with your hands. He searches your face, but doesn’t say anything. You bite down on your tongue and hold it for a moment, then ask, “Did you ever think about how it was for me? Seeing you two together?” 

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He shakes his head. 

“I didn’t think so,” you mutter, looking down at your half-eaten plate and pushing it away with a sigh, “I won’t have sex with anyone when you’re here. But I’m not going to ban people I’m dating from my own house just for your sake.”

He nods, “Ok.” 

Both of you stew in this silence, soaking in the words that were exchanged. It’s not uncomfortable, just heavy with the weight of the conversation.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Frankie looks up at you. 

You search his somber face, “Tell you what?” 

“That it hurt to see me with her,” he presses his elbows into the table, clasping his hands in front of his mouth, “I mean, obviously, I should have known, but…” 

“I didn’t wanna lose you,” you shrug loosely, gather all of your guts in a bundle and tell him, “If I told you, it would come down to choosing between me or her. And… you’ll choose her every time.” 

He sits with this information, staring down the hallway to his bedroom, but so much further. His chest expands with a deep breath, and he exhales, “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

You fight the urge to comfort him and tell him it’s ok. Instead, you nod in acknowledgment. 

“I was really shitty to you for a really long time. And- and you’re right. I’m a fucking hypocrite,” he furrows his brow and rolls his head on his shoulders to look at you, “Why did you even agree to this?”

“To be fair, this is not what I thought was going to happen when I bailed you out,” you chuckle, then release a heavy sigh, “But, I mean… I probably still would have done it if I knew. I care about you. And I want you to get better.” 

The corners of his lips curl upward just a little, eyebrows lowering as he murmurs, “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you smile warmly and wait a moment before stretching the smile out wider, “Ralph is gonna be so proud of us.” 

Frankie laughs, his dark eyes folding into crescents, and nods, “He’s gonna put a gold star on my worksheet tomorrow.” 

You push your chair back and stand up, yawning as you stretch your arms towards the ceiling. 

He gets to his feet, too, grabbing his hat off the floor and putting it back on before piling dishes from the table into a stack, “You going to bed, or you wanna puzzle it up?” 

“I’m down to puzzle,” you grin, “As long as we don’t fall asleep on the couch again, my neck is fucking killing me.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” he snorts, taking wide strides to the sink, “I’m gonna do the dishes, but I’ll be there in a minute.” 

With a nod, you tiptoe into the living room and kneel before the coffee table, examining all the fragmented parts of the puzzle still left to put together. Slowly but surely, it’s starting to resemble a bigger picture. 

You’ve always found puzzles to be comforting. 

Something about the heap of jigsawed pieces when you open the box. All of them broken and indistinguishable in their own right. How you put them together, bit by bit. Proceeding even when it seems impossible. How, eventually, they all come together to make something beautiful. 

[ Next Chapter ]

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

Chaeri's masterlist

❒ Requested ✓ you can find the request here

「 A compilation of BTS proving themselves as gentlemen for their Chaeri 」

⠪ Let's say that for the first few years after their debut Chaeri was not a great heel-wearer

⠪ She was young, plus the concept of their outfits did not focus on that style, so she had never felt the need to wear particularly high ones.

⠪ As she grew up and started to attend more and more important award ceremonies and events, the urge and need to wear them became evident

⠪ The first time she had to wear very high heels was preceded by a lot of practice in their company building. She did quite well on flat surfaces, the challenge was the stairs

⠪ And obviously at the event she couldn't avoid them

⠪ Luckily Namjoon seemed to be heaven-sent to make her life easier in everything, even in wearing heels

⠪ He was there, of course, waiting to hold her hand and walk down each step with her

⠪ It is still a habit of the guy to offer her help even though, as the years went by and her skills in walking on heels improved, she wouldn't even need it anymore

"You're making it off the stairs like a pro" "I don't think I could do it without you" "Just doing my duty as your favourite brother" "I will say 'favourite brother' if I'm gonna get down all the stairs without breaking an ankle"

⠪ As the eldest, Jin has a natural inclination to always keep an eye on all the other members

⠪ With Chaeri he seems to have to intervene more often than he would like

⠪ She doesn't seem like it, but when she's really into something she can get awfully clumsy with everything else

⠪ ESPECIALLY IN THE KITCHEN.

⠪ She is a real disaster as a chef, she can cook only a few dishes and poorly.

⠪ That's why, when she tries, she is so concentrated on trying not to burn anything or add too much flavour that she doesn't pay attention to anything else

⠪ In particular, during an episode of BTS in the soop, Jin had to prevent her from hitting the kitchen shelf with her head more than once by putting a hand between her and the furniture

"Maybe next time I'll just wear a helmet in the kitchen" "Or maybe you could just pay attention to where you're going." "Hey, I was distracted by the delicious smell of your cooking" "Flattery will get you everywhere. Now, let's finish making lunch before we have any more near-death experiences."

⠪ Very funny of Yoongi to always move Chaeri to the inner side of the road as he is the first to scold the others for being too protective of her

⠪ It's something he can't help, they start walking and at some point, at the first possible excuse, he shifts to the side of the road

⠪ The others always tease him about this and he pretends not to hear or simply glares at them to shut 'em up.

⠪ He is not the type to show protection for Chaeri dramatically, as other members do. He is for small things like this

⠪ Yoongi is the type to walk beside her keeping an arm around her shoulders

"Ooh, look at you, all responsible and stuff. You're such a good role model" "Aiish, just move to the inner side before I start regretting this friendship"

⠪ Chaeri among them is always the one who suffers most from the cold

⠪ Whether during the recording of a music video, a concert or an event, her outfits are always those with the thinnest fabric

⠪ During the making of music videos, Jimin always carries a blanket purchased with her in the group's early days

⠪ In MV shooting videos uploaded by the company channel, there is always this scene:

⠪ Jimin taking the adventure time blanket and covering Chaeri as soon as the cameras go down

"Let's finish shooting this and go get some hot cocoa" "Sounds like a plan. And don't worry, I'll make sure you're bundled up the whole time" "Geez, you're like my personal blanket service" "Hey, it's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it" "I love you"

⠪ Chaeri's love for snowboarding starts very early

⠪ As her career began, she decided to spend some of her money on snowboarding lessons

⠪ At her first lessons she was accompanied by Jin, who liked the sport and had already been playing it for a while

⠪ As soon as she put her feet on the board, she ended up with her butt in the snow, for so many times

⠪ In the end, Jin was "forced" to teach her to snowboard the way one teaches a child to walk: by holding her hand the whole time

"You know, you're actually a pretty good teacher" "Thanks, I try my best. And you're a pretty good student, for someone who keeps falling on their butt" "Hey, it's not my fault I have bad balance" "Sure, blame it on genetics."

⠪ Of the BTS members, Chaeri steals the most clothes from Hobi.

⠪ And he lets her do it, not caring so much.

⠪ Actually, seeing her with her clothes on only makes him more joyful.

⠪ With her, sharing is the basis of their friendship

⠪ As Chaeri always styles his jacket on crop tops, she is used to holding them open to show what she is wearing underneath

⠪ He, on the other hand, always rushes to close them and remind her that if she's wearing a jacket it's because it's cold and keeping it open doesn't even make sense

"Seriously, it's cold out here, you need to zip it up" "But I like it this way, it's a fashion statement" "Fashion statement my ass. You're gonna catch a cold, let me zip it up for you" "Oh, so now you're playing the protective big brother card, huh?" "You know it. I don't want my little sister to get sick on my watch"

⠪ Chaeri's dress was beautiful, as beautiful as short though

⠪ However, it was never a problem at award ceremonies as girls in skirts were provided with blankets to cover themselves from improper camera angles

⠪ Unfortunately for her that evening, the staff had not been provided with enough blankets for the entire number of women participating

⠪ Looking around, it was possible to notice the girls sharing the same quilt in two

⠪ She, the only female member, could not share it with anyone

⠪ So she did her best to keep her legs tightly closed and look around in case someone was filming her from the wrong side

⠪ It was not for long, because as soon as Jungkook realised that Chaeri would not be receiving any coverage, he took off his jacket and placed it directly over her legs

"Hey there, Miss Short Dress. You're gonna get us kicked out of here with that outfit." "Oh, shut up. You love it" "Well, yeah, but that's beside the point. I don't want you to get in trouble with the paparazzi" "You're such a gentleman. Offering me your jacket like that" "Well, what can I say? Chivalry isn't dead yet"

⠪ One thing Tae loves to do is to stop Chaeri's bodyguard before he can open her car door, to do it himself

⠪ It all started as a game in the group's early days, when the bond between the two was just beginning to form

⠪ Tae pretended to be her personal security guard and Chaeri pretended to be a world-famous celebrity

⠪ Well, over time, part of that game came true.

⠪ Growing up, however, Tae continued to have these attitudes, not just for laughs as they once did

⠪ But he loves giving her princess treatments

⠪ It's really hard to see anyone on staff getting Chaeri out of the car, then

⠪ Her Tae always takes care of it

"After you, m'lady. Allow me to open the door for you" "Oh, thank you sir" "I take my job as your personal bodyguard seriously. I might need to start wearing a suit and earpiece" "I'll make sure to get you a matching tie"

[neristudy]

◦ Lets study some damn German ◦

A collection of my main online resources that have been found and sorted by me for my personal use. Feel free to steal it for yourself, though.

To fully learn a language, you need to know and comprehend:

⊳ Reading;

⊳ Writing;

⊳ Listening;

⊳ Speaking.

But since I have ADHD, I add one more thing: learning through games. This will include literal computer games from German developers with German voiceovers, or just gamification of learning like Duolingo.

Because why the hell not?

°°••....••°° 〘Chapter one: Reading〙 °°••....••°°

➤ LingQ

There aren't as many non-political articles as I'd like (and certainly not enough articles on cooking!), but poor people can't be choosers.

➤ German.net

The site has a pretty decent library of resources not only for reading, but I put it in this category because of the presence of texts with comprehension tests at the end. It's a very nice way to see if you really understood what was written there or not.

➤  ... probably, some german book? Is there a comunity of german writers on AO3....

°°••....••°° 〘Chapter two: Writing〙 °°••....••°°

They all more or less focus on grammar, so I don't see the need to describe each one separately. However, pay attention to the last 3 links - those are  resources with avaliable Ukrainian language.

➤ Learn German online

➤ German with Laura

➤ Deutschbuch.com

➤ FluentU

➤ Easy-Deutch.com

➤ Lingvvozone

The only one that deserves further explanation, for this site is essentially a very thicc online dictionary. Very useful.

❥ Грамматика з нуля ❥ Golernen Akademia ❥ Deutsche Welle

°°••....••°° 〘Chapter three: Listening〙 °°••....••°°

Beware: mostly Youtube, so get your adblock up maties.

➤  Learn Languages With Isa

Cute short german stories.

➤  Easy German

The man, the myth, the legend.

➤ Learn German with Herr Antrim

He’s got whole courses and deserves a watch at least bc of his shiny personality!

➤  Learn German With Falk  

Great, slow podcast with managable pasing.

➤ Listen to German music, playlists are:

    - here

    - and here

    - and also here!

°°••••°° 〘Chapter three: Speaking 〙 °°••••°°

➤ Sing along german songs (even better if you have studied a song before and know what it is about);

➤ Start a voice diary: daily send yourself (on Telegram or wherever it is convenient and / or easy for you) a voice message in which you tried to talk about something (or on a specific topic) for x minutes.

➤ The most scary and/or hard one: get yourself a buddy who learn or already native to German language. Can also write to me, and we can study together!

°°••....••°° 〘Chapter four: Games〙 °°••....••°°

➤ Piranha Bytes & friends

For now the greatest sourse of my active german playing is games from Piranha Bytes & friends, ya can fing their bundle here on steam. Just scroll down a bit.

➤ Duolingo

The infamous legend. Acually quite helpful to study in casheer line, or on a 15-mins break. Not much helpful in other stuff.

For now it is basically all I have. Would add more later!

[theinstagrahame]

Another month and a bit, got some more great games coming through! It's time for the indie/small press RPG mail call round-up!

Die - Bizarre Love Triangles: I generally love Rowan, Rook and Deckard's work, and really enjoyed the roughly half that I read of The Wicked and the Divine by Kieron Gillen. So, the original book was a match made in heaven for me. The promise of a Collectible Card Game adventure for it? Done. Sold. I'm there, and sign me up.

Inevitable: I think a lot of people had similar reactions when they pulled Inevitable out of its box: Whoa, this is big. The last few books have been closer in size to the middle row of books, but there's apparently too much ruined Western Arthuriana for one book to contain. Played this on a stream, it's good.

Yazeba's Bed and Breakfast: I honestly can't wait to dig into Yazeba's, because it seems like the kind of game we need more of. It's that Found Family experience, the whole character-based gameplay that people love, but also designed to really keep things fresh even on repeat playthroughs. I'm really curious to finally dig in.

Wickedness: This was offered as an Add-on to the Yazeba's Backerkit, and I was intrigued by the pitch: You and two other players form a coven, and you do queer witch stuff. It's a beautifully made book, and I've got a lot of friends who I think would dig it.

Songbirds 3e: I picked up an earlier edition of Songbirds in an Itch Charity Bundle, and was really intrigued by the game. Snow does amazing things with layout and vibes, and is a really excellent game designer. I really wanted that edition in hard copy, but never found it, so a third edition was an instant get.

Kids on Bikes 2e: I know KoB mostly through the Brits on Bikes podcast, and I really enjoyed the system. I love systems that make use of all the dice in interesting and fun ways, and I really couldn't wait to see what a new edition would look like.

Apocalypse Keys - Doomsday Delights: I've recently been reading the Hellboy comics, and thoroughly enjoying them. I also already have Apocalypse Keys, which does an incredible job of making the comic even more queer, so completing the set with the fun stretch goal books was kind of an obvious call.

The Wolf King's Son: Vincent and Meguey Baker make amazing games, including the engine that runs so many of the games I like. I've been following their recent series of zines, and this popped up in that feed. I haven't checked out Under Hollow Hills, but even based on what I've seen from this, it's a must-have.

Pitcrawler: Wizards are the 1%, and we Pitcrawlers, disposable adventurers, are here to rob from the rich. It ticks all my boxes, and it looks good doing it. The campaign also hit while I was about halfway through my Magnus Archives listen, so it was an instant back for me.

Outliers: Everything Sam Leigh makes slaps, so yeah. Weird corporate science horror? Solo adventures? Hell, even the Far Horizons Co-op association really got me.

Here we Used to Fly: Picked this up also because of @partyofonepod, who played a really beautiful and bittersweet episode with the creator. I have always been a little too anxious as an adult to consider breaking into an old theme park, but I definitely have my share of fun memories of them as a kid. I'm also starting to envision other games this would pair really well as an epilogue to, should I ever get back into the AP scene.

Another game has arrived in the mail since I started this, but that's gonna be next month's first game, I guess!

[greenplumbboblover]

Hi! Do you think potentially that with this new age if AI, do you think it would be able to create mods and animations for us for games like the sims 3 and so on? I was wondering how amazing it would be if we can use it to our advantage and create all the content we ever desired lol

Hey!! Sorry for not gettting to this in like an entire month! I actually wanted to do some research on it (including asking some people I know who are super into AI stuff right now).

Just a disclaimer: I'm not much of a fan of using AI when it comes to artistic works. Such as Artwork generative AI, or even Photography. Especially when things people worked hours on are being used without their consent for an AI to poop out an artwork/photograph.

With that out of the way, here are my findings:

Textures:

So, as of right now, AI texture generating is something that is actually used these days in games to cut the cost of otherwise purchasing licenses of already made bundles of ground textures and what-not. Indie developers make use of this a lot too. So technically this is already possible, but I'd definetly only use this approach to train the AI on your own portfolio of textures or imagery to make something cool.

Animations:

However, animations, I think would be sort of possible, I just don't know if it would be fully AI though, judging from the industry's development as of right now.

Assuming that the RIG is setup in such a way that it meets the requirements to animate the item from a huge library of movements (think Mixamo, I'm hoping to soon release a tutorial on how to use that for the sims :)), then we really don't need AI really to create animations much. The only thing I'm a bit afraid of though, is that eventually it could feel a bit too "same-y" in mods or even games coming out, if they all used it. AI might change that up a bit though.

Though, as of right now, I don't really believe AI is up for the test though :P Imagine, training a computer that has no limbs and head, to be a human... It just doesn't know how to lol. Here's a great example: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJHQXmOpkUE

Scripting:

Just like I don't think scripting will be fully AI anytime soon, I don't think scripting for the sims will either therefore. And here's the thing: AI takes snippets from Stackoverflow and other sources when you ask it to come up with code for a feature.

For example, if I ask ChatGPT for example to create a commenting system in javascript, it comes up with something somewhat great, but it's also missing a lot of crucial bits. For example, how do I delete replies? How do I edit replies? Etc.

With the sims I think that issue would be even bigger. AI simply wouldn't be able to answer properly how to help you create a, let's say, a grassmower mod. That's to do with the database of mods out there, open source like (think github, forums etc) is just too small for it to do. So unless that library gets bigger, I don't think this will be possible any time soon.

Conclusion:

AI is amazing right now with what it shows us what they can do with it. But once you've worked with it, you also realise how limiting it is right now. How counterintuitive it even can be to teach it something.

Sometimes, it's quicker to learn to do it yourself, than to teach AI to do it, because it takes such odd roundabout ways at times that you scratch your head and wonder "How tf did you even come up with that??". And that's because we're asking a computer to think and act like us in some way. It's like asking a puppy to be a cat. It could work out if you add a lot of energy and time into it, but it also won't 100% be the result you want.

At least, with the current way AI functions and learns.

If there's one thing I do hope would come to the sims, is actually those character language models like Skyrim has, where you can talk to your sim, and train it on that sim's background to give you appropiate answers. But I think we'll have to wait a while for that to come out :p.... I tried my hand at it one weekend but I'm not that well adversed into AI training and stuff yet.

[terriyyaki]

Big ol rant about aj lore and new things with the update I don't think people have seen :)

OKay, so we all have seen the newest update KABOOM Club Geoz is back new bundle night of the phantoms boom awesome update. Amazing update since getting such small updates I think we can agree this is awesome but I've found something else ajhq hasn't told us about. There has been no mention of the notes scattered across Jamaa.

The only notes I've found so far at located at The Lost Temple Of Zios, Appondale, and Coral Canyons. 

There is quite a bit of mention of light and dark throughout this update we've got the message at Club Geoz where Greely is talking about and questioning why Club Geoz is back and makes mention of how its music can be a source of light and dark energy. Then there is the new bundle which contains two recolors of Greely's armor titled Greely's dark side armor and Greely's light side armor. 

Greely is a big part of this at the moment. He's on all of the notes and he's the only alpha talking to us about this (makes sense phantoms are this emos hyper fixation) Even Play Wild has mentioned Greely.

Throughout the notes, Greely tells us about the lines of power and how they work. Greely also talks about the phantoms being able to cross from their dimension to ours and how they might even be able to cross to other worlds. 

Right now I do not know where this is going to go but ofc Ima speculate, just keep in mind I'm going to throw around some stuff I know ajhq can't do at the moment with the state ajc is in. 

I think this is an amazing set-up for a new adventure or event. Throughout the adventures we've gone to the fortress (correct me if I'm wrong) but I don't think we've ever gone to the phantom dimension aside from something like the phantom vortex, what does the phantom vortex even count as? You can access it in ajpw so maybe ajhq wants to do something similar here? 

There is a mention of how the lines of power can be activated in the note from The Temple Of Zios. "These lines can be activated by great astronomical events such as an eclipse, or by the collective, focused energy of many animals working together." We've seen the lines of power work in an eclipse but... many animals working together? again I think this could add to some event maybe an adventure but I see this one leaning towards something just happening in Jamaa. I want to quickly not so quickly touch on Juno. When the lines of power reappeared their statue started to glow yellow showing some activity. There are now items revolving around them in the diamond shop and also in the phantom vortex? I don't know much about the lore of Juno and I'm not about to go check so bare with me and correct me anywhere you like. I questioned the phantom vortex earlier maybe the fact that Juno's armor is there could suggest Juno is in the phantom dimension? which again... IS AN AWESOME SET-UP FOR AN ADVENTURE. Imagine it. Greely is worried about the phantoms and wants us to go into the phantom dimension to investigate and gather information. Using the lines of power or something along the lines maybe even the light and dark energy from something like Club Geoz we make it into the phantom dimension. While searching and finding information we could stumble across traces of an animal or something in here with us. Notes or bits of armor or items, or it could just be a large reveal instantly of Juno trapped by the phantoms! we get them out and return to Greely and the other alphas. TLDR: There are notes in aj talking about the lines of power Juno and Greely are important, we may get a new adventure or event sometime. MORE LORE WOOOOOO!!!!!!

[firespirited]

From yesterday. She loves to sit on the bench like a human and watch the world go by.

Today I got pretty sick so I'm going to have to not do much for the next few days let alone go out (the purpura are intense, I look like I took a spitting pan of grease to the face or measles or something. Also strained the neck injury which is visibly swollen and mighty sore)

I've listed the 9 vintage heads as a bundle and the Monster High bait on ebay (saffyruth)

but so long as there are no bids any dollblr folks can have the vintage head bundle for 8$ (aka free with tracked postage bubble envelope worldwide) or a $30 (aka the price of a kilo) box of dolls: monsters, various barbie/disney, stretch fabrics, fun yarn scraps for reroots, assorted accessories... (see suppi.net/bratz/recap.php for headshots) I'd be delighted to put together a custom package instead of listing stuff on ebay. If you're in the EU, 11€ for 3kilos of assorted doll junk. I'll empty the various drawers on to my bed: take photos and you can pick and choose.

Other stuff on ebay is available to be *added* to a just pay postage box, it's priced by how much it cost and the amount of work involved (glue treatments, bleaching and whatnot). I don't allow haggling once I've settled on an "ebay acceptable" price because the worth in time/effort and my minimum reveals itself. I know, the rules are weird. 😅 Reroots became more precious once I couldn't replicate that again, like sentimental value, I hope that makes sense.

Haven't posted much, had a lot to say but wasn't sure it was appropriate or would be properly understood. Not wording great lately. Having to do an overview of 2023 brought up some really interesting things about what I value and collect that need to be worded in a way that can't be misconstrued "so you hate waffles?"-style.

I've been grieving somewhat for a while and, well, it seems like everyone is going through it, so why add to dash sadness (at a time like this too)? But also had a bittersweet healing moment with mum and got to know my sister a little better as she's been coming on dog walks (Talia is hers, well it's more like she is Talias: chihuahuas bond to their chosen human, it's quite astonishing to witness) and my old lady-baby Lily is in better shape than ever. And some pondering about what kind of hobbyist I'd like to be if I can't use my arms again much this year (arm movements also include photos, editing and typing)

Ok off to sleep, see you in 12-14h. Love to all and special thoughts to everyone I'm seeing having a rough time of it. PS: Dms or emails re "doll clear out" will work much better than replies/reblogs.

[biboomerangboi]

So you want to your local tumblr Creator?

Okay with all the AI art things coming out and also some new users I thought I’d show you all good ways to support creators on this platform.

First you’re going to want to go into your settings click into visibility and manually turn off the third party sharing feature.

Yes even if you aren’t an artist or don’t post anything at all. The more users that turn this on the more Tumblr can see we don’t want AI here.

This is literally the bare minimum of what you can do and if that’s all you want to do that’s fine.

However if you want to support creators more you need to understand that likes don’t do anything on this platform. With a lot of new users I’m seeing more and more ratios like this:

Which is fine all notes are good notes we all appreciate your like on our art but this is the reblogging site. There’s no algorithm! Likes don’t boost our art that much, other than maybe bringing us to the top of the tag. What helps is reblogging. This site is built for that and it is quick and easy.

Literally all you have to do is hit the reblog button beside the like button and hit post. You don’t need tags or anything on your own blog. It really is quick and simple. Literally it only takes one second more than liking alone.

Now you might be saying Zee I want to reblog but I don’t want to spam my blog, I’m only on tumblr at 20 minute intervals I don’t want to to clog up other peoples dashes with my reblogs and that’s fine I got you.

Let me tell you about the queue function. Tumblr has a built in awesome system called the queue.

It’s really quick and easy to use all you have to do is hit the reblog button, hit the three dots to the side, hit queue and boom your reblog is now added to your queue.

Now what does the queue actually do? Basically it allows for your reblogs to go out at random times throughout the day without you doing anything. For example mine posts 10 times a day during the whole 24hr period. This is because as you can see I have a lot of art in my queue, you don’t need to have that much but you can. The queue is literally limitless.

To modify your queue can also hit that cog button and modify it to suit your every whim. And boom there you go a quick and easy way to help creators from your mobile without any hassle.

You can even shuffle your queue so on days when discover a new interest and go through the entire tag liking and reblogging things you can mix it around with the stuff you regularly reblog to not overwhelm your followers with your new special interest! It's great!

Now if you want to push this one step further, maybe you like having tags on your posts to keep your blog organised, but you don’t want the hassle of typing out all those tags in 20 mins. Then don’t worry, I got you.

You see I kinda lied, the like button does have a function. It’s great as working as a bookmark. So if your in public and you want to show love for something then go on ahead and like that thing. Then when you get home you’re going to want to pull out your laptop and boot up tumblr and xkit. Which you can get here!

Once you have xkit up your going to want to go to quick tags and set up your tag buddles. These tags are then autosaved and easy edited making reblogging and adding to your queue incredibly easy. You can even add in your own rambly tags and keep the bundle.

Honestly you don't even need to do it everyday, sure it saves some time but I usually try to update my queue once every two weeks or so (I forgot for like a month this time thats why my queue is so big, I had to go very far back, Don't be a me. It's stressful.) By using your likes as a bookmark you keep all the art and then can backdate everything you've liked in past few weeks, but honestly you don't need to do this. I do because I can be very Type A about running a blog but no one is going to hate you for spam reblogging or for reblogging without tags but please think about reblogging stuff to give a creator a much needed boost of serotonin. Remember that most creators are here for free and just want to share the thing they love with other people so keep the cycle alive and reblog stuff.

[alllinesarebeautiful]

Day 425 Art meditation, August 29, 2024,

”Vote BluePaper Dress of the Tree Ring Art Heart Art Brand Bundle”

Dear You, 

Posting my “Vote Blue” paper dress for my ‘Tree Ring’ Heart Art Brand Bundle!  YAY !!!

It’s 45 days late, but I had some deep, deep stuff to go through. Lots of terrifying honesty and heavy conversations have been happening … Lots of journaling of themes I want to flesh out into book chapters …

It’s a new day. 🙏

The center art piece (much like a logo) of the Vote art is still the abstract tree ring image, but art moves and grows if I stop trying to control it so much. I try to make my idea without over-thinking and see what happens in the stage of it. I am intentionally trying NOT to be perfect.  

Even as I made this dress, I criticized my way through it. Stupid stupid stupid.  The final photos, taken by my in-house photographer G, and who forces me to laugh in the “photoshoot” with his brilliant sense of humor, came out much better than I thought it would.  

The main ideas that I want to convey is what happens to our heart-spaces WHEN we make any kind of art, 

or when we speak up for ourselves, 

or when we vote towards love, 

or when we vote with our Hearts, not our Egos,

or and when we have the courage to stand up for BLUE truth and justice - 

is that our very fragile inner heart space becomes STRONGER, and new ideas come in. 

Love and art creates beautiful things our minds could never have imagined!

The whole point of the Blue Wave right now is to make LOVE bigger. 

And for everything else, let God handle it. And if you don’t believe in God, then all I know is that there will come a moment in your life when you have to face yourself. Honesty has a way of catching up with us…

Two days ago I felt PURE JOY for about 2 minutes. TWO. Although, I will add, last night I made an entire 3 jokes in one night, in part thanks to the big glass of wine, but the fact that I made G laugh so hard, is proof they were good jokes. He only laughs when something is seriously funny. My usual joke rate is once a month, so was this a surge of healing??

This surge of joy made me ponder, I don’t think we know how MUCH we normalize being SUBDUED and JOYLESS.

I want the paper dress to remind us all that there is more joy, love and beauty. No hoarding is necessary. It just isn’t.

If all the men in the world who are creating war-separation-divide, would INSTEAD pick up a glue stick and colorful paper and a scissors, what a different world we would live in. 

This should be a requirement if you want to get into politics. Art has a way of leveling the playing field. Art has a way of reducing your ego, especially since it is one arena where there really are no rules. If you set out to be GREAT, art has a way of having its own will and taking you down a notch. 

For example, I remember when I took my only (blissful) oil painting class at Goshen College as an elective, in a dreamy art department which was a big sunny loft. My final project was to paint “like” an artist I admired. I picked Henri Matisse, and wanted to paint something like his Blue Nude.

What came out was so hideous. I remember being shocked, because some of Matisee’s art looks so easy to recreate / copy, I thought I would easily be able to recreate the joy Matisse creates in my heart. I still got a 90% grade, but I thought that was generous. It took a serious notch out of my ego. I wish I still had it and could show you. 

The point, which I get now, and I could not understand 35 years ago, is that we ARE as unique as the art and heart-ideas that come with each of us. So, again, no stealing, or dominating, or hoarding is necessary. 

My father loved the hideous stuff I made for that art class, plus the 2 art classes I took in high school. A few years ago I threw it all away, which is a shame, I realize now, but that’s my critical brain at work!

Now that this first paper dress is done, I can feel a kind of contentment, which I always try to remember this feeling and not let my sticky mind go backwards. Heart-space expansion!

Sending oodles of love,

Anne ◎

Ⓒ 2024 Anne Hunsicker | All Lines Are Beautiful. All rights reserved.

[football-and-fanfics]

Cold - Darwin Nunez

Who: Darwin Nunez Prompt: "I don't think I'll ever feel warm again." Requested by: anonymous Warnings: none

Snow. It might have been the thing Darwin dreaded most about moving to England. He could stand the most blistering heat, but this ice cold stuff falling from the skies was the absolute worst.

For Darwin, today's snowfall would surely be a good reason to cancel their match, but unfortunately for him, that didn't happen.

He somehow got through the match in one piece, but by the time the final whistle sounded, Darwin felt like a proper icicle. "I don't think I'll ever feel warm again," Darwin complained through chattering teeth as he made his way off the pitch. He shivered in his match shirt and snowflakes covered his hair. "You'll get used to it," Thiago chuckled, watching amused as his teammate made some more complaints about the cold and snow. Darwin shook his head. "I'll never get used to this."

Back in the dressing room, Darwin immediately made way for the shower. He stood under the scalding hot water twice as long as he usually would, letting the water run endlessly over his cold skin and muscles. The cold had settled deep inside him, and it took a long while to finally evict that icy feeling from his body.

As soon as he stepped out from under the hot shower, the shivers returned. Darwin quickly dried himself off, and put on as many clothes as he could find, topping it off with a hat and gloves. He would do anything to keep the warmth of the shower with him.

"You do know we're going home by bus, right?" Thiago smirked at the sight of Darwin bundled up in his clothes and other wintry attire. "You don't have to walk home through the snow." Darwin glared at the snowflakes still falling outside the window. "Even only the sight of it makes me feel cold again." Thiago snickered. "Than you're in for a rough ride, amigo. This snow is supposed to last all week." "Great," Darwin mumbled grumpily, "by the end of the week you can consider me permanently frozen."

Tags: @evie-pr, @auawdo, @meteora-fc, @stonesyyyy, @drizzyreese, @hbstre, @liverpoolfanfiction, @sternennebel2001, @mrswinksy, @themoon-shines PL / LFC tags: @ella33, @candlelitutopia, @percervall

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