#when the pattern calls for a 5/8

[yourfxllenangel]

50 NSFT questions for May (Ask Game):

1. Top, bottom or vers?

2. Dom, sub, switch?

3. On a scale of 0 to 10 how kinky would you say you are?

4. How many people have you had sex with last year?

5. Bare, pattern or unshaved?

6. When was your most recent hookup?

7. When did you last cum?

8. How often do you masterbate?

9. What is the last thing you touched yourself to?

10. How did you last cum?

11. Are you hornier in the morning or evening?

12. What are your 3 favorite kinks?

13. What are your limits?

14. What kink would you most like to try?

15. What kink have you tried but didn't enjoy?

16. Do you have a master/sub?

17. What's the kinkiest thing you've done?

18. Favorite piece of underwear you own?

19. What underwear would you like to buy/be gifted? (pics welcome)

20. What underwear are you wearing right now and how long have you been wearing it?

21. Have you ever worn a toy to work/class?

22. Have you ever gone to work/class commando?

23. Do you like humiliation/to be humiliated?

24. Do you like dirty talk? What names do you like calling/being called by?

25. Do you like spitting/being spitted on?

26. Do you like being punished/punishing a sub?

27. Do you enjoy receiving/ inflicting pain? How strong?

28. What is your favorite pain instrument?

29. Do you like giving a spanking/getting spanked?

30. Do you like slapping/getting slapped?

31. Have you ever gotten marks/given a sub marks from impact play?

32. How many fingers can you fit inside of you?

33. Do you have any specific fantasies?

34. How vocal are you (playing solo or with partner)?

35. What are you wearing now?

36. Favourite positions?

37. Biggest turn on?

38. What size bra are you?

39. Favourite colour lingerie (on yourself or partner)?

40. Favourite place to receive/give kisses on the body?

41. Favourite phrases to hear/say in the bedroom?

42. What’s the most surprising/unexpected kink you have?

43. What do you do for aftercare?

44. Monogamous or Poly?

45. Wildest Wet dream?

46. When was the last time you sent nudes?

47. 🍃 Or not during sexual activity?

48. Oldest person you’ve dated/crushed on?

49. Favourite part of your/your partner’s body?

50. Truth or dare?

[buddieskitchen]

I was wacthing last thursday's episode and suddenly it hit me. What do you mean all buddie related conversations in 8b happened in kitchens???? Let me break it down cause this pattern is insane and I'm in full clown makeup over kitchen theory

8x8 Wannabes (last episode of 8a): Buck finding out about Eddie moving to Texas in Eddie's kitchen.

2. 8x9 Sob Stories: Buck overhears Eddie saying everything important to him is in Texas.

3. 8x11 Holy Mother of God: Tommy implies Eddie was his romantic competition in regards to Buck.

4. 8x11 Holy Mother of God: Maddie asks Buck if he's in love with Eddie. This takes place in her kitchen.

5. 8x12 Disconnected (edited: as pointed out by anon): Eddie tells Buck about his employment issue with the El Paso firehouse, Buck asks if he's thinking of coming back. The box at the bottom right of eddie's frame has "kitchen" written in it. Could mean nothing.

6. 8x12 Disconnected: When Eddie calls Buck to tell him about Chris finding out he's an Uber driver, Buck walks into the kitchen and grabs a beer.

7. 8x13 Invisible: Buck and Eddie facetime while cooking together. They discuss a recipe involving a slow cooker.

8. 8x17 Don't Drink the Water: Eddie talks to Hen and Karen about his concerns about Buck, his own grief, and slips in calling LA home. Both the words kitchen and slow cooker are explicitly said here, which could mean nothing.

9. 8x17 Don't Drink the Water: Buck and Eddie argue after Buck find's out Eddie has an opening at the El Paso firehouse, Eddie opens up to Buck about breaking Bobby's death to Chris.

10. 8x17 Don't Drink the Water: Pepa and Buck discuss embracing change, in the context of Bobby's death. And listen, i know Bobby's corpse is still fresh but if you just consider for a minute the consequences of 8x11 this conversation is kind of insane.

Anyways uhm. 8b Kitchen theory. Slow cooker theory. I'm in full clown makeup right now but I feel like this can't be a coincidence considering the writers know how much importance we lend to the kitchen. And I mean if you wanted to do fanservice might as well go all in with the hints. Again, could mean nothing.

[wearenemies]

dashboard simulator

mutual 1: *poor quality image of pete wentz* does anybody know where i can buy a crowbar. for sexual purposes

mutual 2: my mikey way tulpa is coming along well

mutual 3: its so over after this mcr is breaking up forever theres no hope for us didnt you see the messaging in their staging. god. fuck its over

mutual 1: *image of patrick stump’s bulge*

mutual 4: im killing myself tomorrow

mutual 5: both of these blog posts may seem innocuous at first, but in fact when considered in relation to one another we can observe several similar phrases, and a pattern emerges in the pacing of his prose that proves without a doubt that he’s having an extramarital affair with his singer. first, the recurrence of the phra

mutual 1: i need to get a man pregnant

mutual 4: *joe trohman image* killing myself cancelled hello gorgeous 😍😍😍😍😍

mutual 6: mcr is releasing new music next week i know this deep in my soul the messaging in their staging is unmissable guys we have never been so fucking back in our lives

mutual 1: *image of patrick stump’s bulge*

mutual 3: *image of two members of my chemical romance publicly beating the snot out of one another* do you remember how we used to run

mutual 1: *image of patrick stump’s bulge*

mutual 7: frank iero is like a delicious steak to me i need to rip him apart like a feral dog

mutual 8: *the most stunning lovingly rendered drawing you’ve ever seen in your life of two middle aged musicians making out nasty style* just a quick doodle :)

mutual 4: my fucking bus was late killing myself is officially back on

mutual 5: *web weave consisting of sections of beautiful niche literature, medieval biblical illustrations, 17th century oil paintings, james baldwin quotations and peterick interviews*

mutual 1: *image of patrick stump’s bulge*

mutual 7: do you guys think i could cite unholyverse in my applied religious literature thesis i cant ask my professor because she blocked my email but idk i think it counts as a good modern text

mutual 2: guys i think my mikey way tulpa might be starting to crave blood

mutual 6: *ray toro image* im experiencing divine ecstasy i need her to [DATA EXPUNGED]

mutual 9: i cant listen to fall out boy anymore guys i had a nightmare where andy was chasing me in the dark forest it seemed really real

mutual 10 (unattached to bandom): out of the beatles john would for sure have the biggest boobs

mutual 1: what if it was called when we were freaky fest

[quietdeparturesarchive]

Tips On How To Get Your Life Together

make a list of your top priorities: Figure out what actually matters to you right now. This isn’t about what you should care about, but what truly takes up your energy—school, your health, building confidence, relationships, etc. Keep the list short (3–5 things max) so you can focus. ‎

create a morning and night routine: Routines give your brain structure. You don’t need a 10-step ritual—just something consistent. Morning = stretch, drink water, check your planner. Night = wash your face, no phone 30 mins before bed, quick journal. That alone is enough. ‎

check in with yourself and journal frequently: Journaling doesn’t mean writing novels. Just note how you feel, what’s bothering you, what went well, or what’s on your mind. Use prompts if you’re stuck. The point is to stay connected to yourself instead of spiraling in your head. ‎

start saving money: Even a small amount every week matters. Start tracking what you spend. Make a savings goal (emergency fund, a trip, new laptop). Try a rule like “save 10% of what I get” or “no impulse purchases until Sunday.” ‎

learn something new every day: It doesn’t have to be academic. Listen to a podcast, read one article, Google something random. Write down one interesting thing you learned to help you remember it—and to remind yourself that you’re growing. ‎

spend time with the people you love: Text them. Call them. Make plans, even if you’re busy. Shared time matters. It’s easy to get caught up in fixing yourself and forget that love and connection are part of being okay. ‎

keep track of your sleep, hydration, nutrition: Start observing how your body feels. Are you getting 7–8 hours of sleep? Drinking enough water (2L/day)? Eating regularly? You don’t have to go full fitness-tracker, but noticing patterns can help you feel way more in control. ‎

list down your stress triggers: What causes you anxiety, procrastination, or overwhelm? Write them down. Knowing your triggers helps you build systems around them. If social events drain you, plan alone time after. If deadlines stress you, start earlier. ‎

clean your room: Your environment reflects your mental state. Tidy up the space where you spend the most time. It doesn’t need to be perfect—just put things back in place, wipe down surfaces, and open a window. It shifts your mindset. ‎

practice gratitude and/or meditate: You don’t have to be spiritual. Just note what’s good. Try writing 3 small things you’re grateful for, or sitting quietly for 5 minutes. It helps your mind slow down and notice what’s okay, even on rough days. ‎

set boundaries: Say no when you need to. Don’t reply right away if you’re drained. Make rules for yourself about how much you give to others. Boundaries protect your energy—they’re not selfish, they’re necessary. ‎

declutter your phone, laptop, etc: Digital mess counts. Delete apps you don’t use, clear out your camera roll and downloads, organize folders. It helps reduce mental clutter and makes everything feel more intentional. ‎

plan 1 self care act every day: Something small, just for you. A walk, skincare, journaling, no-screen time, reading. Doesn’t have to be fancy or expensive—just consistent and kind to yourself.

xoxo, sally

pic1 | pic2 | pic3

[astrologydray]

Part of fortune in the degrees

Part of Fortune in the degrees is like the hidden spice mix in your astrological fortune. The degree can flavor your Part of Fortune with deeper nuance, karmic energy, and even timing.

0° – The Origin Point

Fresh start energy! Your joy comes from pioneering something totally new. You’re here to plant seeds that grow into empires. This is “first on the scene” vibes—trailblazer status.

1° – The Initiator

Action = alignment. You’re someone who taps into fortune when you just begin. Taking the first step (even if you’re not ready) opens the door for magic.

2° – The Sensual Stabilizer

Joy comes from grounded pleasures. Your fortune is tied to patience, beauty, and appreciating the realness of life. Think soft power and quiet luxury.

3° – The Curious Connector

Success shows up when you’re thinking, talking, moving, or exchanging ideas. Your mind is a magnet, and your network = gold.

4° – The Soul Rooter

Your fortune is buried deep—in emotions, memories, ancestry, or the past. When you feel safe and emotionally full, life blesses you.

5° – The Performer

You’re meant to shine. Creative self-expression, fun, or dramatic flair are your keys to joy. When you’re playing or performing, everything clicks.

6° – The Healer Hustler

Service brings success. Whether you’re organizing chaos, helping others, or mastering routines, this degree thrives in the little details that build big blessings.

7° – The Lover

Love, aesthetics, and harmony bring fortune. This is a “soft life” degree—where grace, diplomacy, and connection unlock golden paths.

8° – The Alchemist

Deep transformations = fortune. You’re here to transmute pain into power. This is intense but magnetic—your glow-up is probably legendary.

9° – The Seeker

Adventure calls! Joy comes from travel, study, or expanding your worldview. If you’re bored, you’re blocking blessings. Keep moving.

10° – The Architect

Success comes from structure. You build it, brick by brick. You’re playing the long game—and winning. This degree is all about legacy.

11° – The Visionary

You’re ahead of your time. Your ideas are wild in the best way, and when you trust your weird, you win. Your fortune lies in the future you’re helping build.

12° – The Dreamer

Mystical, intuitive, and creatively charged—this degree feels its way to fortune. If it feels right in your soul, the universe will handle the rest.

13° – The Rebel

Unpredictable magic. You don’t follow the rules—you invent them. Fortune strikes when you embrace chaos and follow your electric instincts.

14° – The Messenger

You’re the cosmic translator. Whether it’s through writing, speaking, or vibes, your voice brings value. Say the thing that needs to be said.

15° – The Magnetic Middle

This is peak attraction energy. You draw in fortune by simply being. Balance, charm, and centered confidence = unstoppable glow.

16° – The Analyst

Your mind is your superpower. You thrive on patterns, logic, and discernment. Fortune favors your sharp eye and strategic brain.

17° – The Soul Climber

You’re here to rise—and you will. This degree blends ambition with intuition. When you align your path with your purpose, blessings rain in.

18° – The Intense Transformer

Like 8°, but with more fire. This degree is intense, karmic, and power-packed. Your fortune may come through radical change—or rising from the ashes.

19° – The Channel

You’re tuned in. This degree has psychic undertones and creative genius. Dreams, visions, or gut instincts often lead you to your blessings.

20° – The Master Builder

You’re here to create something real. This degree carries serious manifestation power. With time, effort, and vision—you will make it happen.

21° – The Muse

Creative, charming, and maybe a little flirty—this degree lives for inspiration and play. Fortune shows up when you’re vibing, not forcing.

22° – The Wise One

This is a “master number” degree—loaded with karmic depth. You’ve been here before, and your fortune often comes from helping or guiding others.

23° – The Charmer

You have it. This degree brings social grace, storytelling power, and a magnetic vibe. You’re luckiest when you’re being authentically YOU.

24° – The Grounded Mystic

Spiritual + practical = unstoppable. You’re in tune with both realms, and your fortune comes when you integrate them. This is “divine timing” energy.

25° – The Phoenix

Massive transformation potential. This degree can feel intense at times, but it leads to deep healing and empowerment. You’re the comeback king/queen.

26° – The Dream Doer

You can manifest the ethereal. Ideas, visions, or creative bursts? You make them real. The dream becomes the empire with this degree.

27° – The Revolutionary

Break the mold. Your fortune lies in doing things your way—even if no one gets it at first. Trailblazer energy with a bold twist.

28° – The Old Soul

You’ve done the work in lifetimes past, and now you’re here to refine and complete. Success comes when you trust your deep wisdom and wrap up cycles with grace.

29° – The Anointed One (Anaretic Degree)

You’re here to master this energy—and fast. High highs, intense tests, but major rewards. This is “last level of the game” energy—go big or go cosmic.

[cursedcola]

ALRIGHT EVERYONE!

Nobody asked - but I broke down the construction of Epel’s cardigan from the sleepwear card as best I was able (aka. Me zooming in on him and staring very intensely).

This is the pattern idea I’ve come up with and a few grid charts. This is not finished, but what I’m going forward with to make his coat this month. My goal is to be done by the end of June.

So. Looking close at his sleeves - the closest resemblance we’ll get in the crochet world is the honeycomb stitch for the argyle diamonds. My plan is to break his sleeve into fourths. Three large panels of honey comb for the diamonds, and two smaller panels of a curved half-double-crochet to create dividers. The cardigan is clearly oversized on him, and even if it’s because of his smaller stature - I want to be SWAMPED in this thing. So the cuffs need to be CHUNKY. I’ll be going in with either a ribbed stitch, or a back stitch of double crochet. When the time comes I’ll test both to see which looks better.

Now - we’ve got the granny squares.

Looking at my little dude - we can see that they’re not just the front panel. They’re going on the back as well. Since I can’t see behind him, I’m going to take creative liberty and make one large panel of honeycomb stitch to be a central strip on the back. The front panels and side panels are going to be made of jumbo cranny squares.

For those of y’all who don’t crochet - the average granny square is about 25x25 stitches. Except oversized cardis use 8 of these bad boys per front panel. So since Epel has only four on each side, that means those squares gotta be JUMBO.

Zooming in - we see that the patterns are more embroidered. They’ve got texture. Since we’re crocheting, the best way to achieve this is to do pixel crochet for the squares and then go over the designs with a basic embroider stitch. This can be any of your choosing - I’ve yet to pick but will note what I want when the time comes.

There are THREE types of squares on Epel’s coat. I’m just calling them blossom, diamond, and apple. Since there are only three, it would have been difficult to make an entire back with them without having two of a kind touching or diagonal from each other (this is personal preference. I hate how this looks) which is why I’ve decided to go for that middle panel of honeycomb stitch.

The rest of the cardigan seems simple enough. The collar and trim is likely a simple ribbing, and those look like classic farmhouse wooden buttons if I’ve ever seen them.

EDIT (5/6/25): So. Complete change of plan for the sleeves now that I’ve gotten some sleep and thought on it. There’s a cable-knit stitch in the crochet world that closely resembles knit cables. Also lattice stitch or Tunisian crochet can be used for the diamond pattern. So if you want simple/beginner then do the honeycomb with a twisted hdc. If you want advanced then mix the cable-stitch with lattice.

Now - let’s talk materials.

I’m going with acrylic for this. Would it be absolutely divine as wool or a nice, dense alpaca blend? Definitely. I bet that’s what Epel has since his family runs a farm.

I am broke so I’ll be going in with a medium - weight acrylic, hook size 6, and all the granny squares will be done with basic hdc. Although acrylic is a bit itchy - id any of y’all choose to do this? Soak that finished product in a fabric softener solution. It’s a few dollars and your project will lose that scratchy texture. Just don’t let it hang out in the bath too long or the fibers will loosen more than you’d like.

^^^^ This is my general eyeball for how I’ll be constructing this piece. There aren’t any measurements since I’ve get to get my yarn and do a gauge…also, I’m not too sure how oversized I want this. I want to be swamped but not weighed down so hmm…

-

I don’t know how many of y’all like to crochet or do fibre arts - but I fell in love with this coat the moment I saw it and knew it had to be mine. I’m the impatient sort, and already ordered my supplies despite telling myself to wait. Pixel crochet does take a hot minute, so I’m hoping for June but the finished product will likely be more around late-july or august. Just in time for fall and market living where I live!

I could go quicker - but uh, I work as a bridal tailor and Run my own small shop off this app. I spend most of my day sewing lol. It’s been a hot minute since I made something for me, but dang it Epel made it look so cute. I just have to.

No one’s asking, but I’ll be updating. I’m literally so excited and my package of supplies can’t get here quick enough

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (cunnilingus, piv, choking, degradation, slight sadism), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: again the high valyrian is internet translated so lol. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. might make another poll for next chapter stay tuned. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat

Taking you to the hidden stream was simultaneously the best and worst decision Erryk's ever made in his life. The look of you was holy. His intense focus on your form was to ensure your safety, but, by the gods, it felt sinful to behold your dark hair and light fabric ebbing in the water.

He had hoped a swim would lift your spirits, just as flower picking did, but he did not know it would draw such a tempest out of you. It was as though you were reborn. You plunged into the water and shed all your inhibitions. Your voice became brighter, as did your eyes. You were flooded with more than a dozen memories of you and your twin swimming in the river near your home in Oldtown, and you recounted all of them so excitedly to Erryk.

"Oh!' you exclaim, flipping in the water to get to your feet. You point to something behind your ward, making him turn around. In that split second, you hold in your laughter and grab something from the mossy rocks. Innocently, you say, "that reminds me of something."

Erryk turns back to you, brows knit in confusion. When you you make your way towards him, he clenches his jaw and averts his gaze. The shift you were swimming in was stuck flush on your body, leaving little to his imagination. He was glad to have the foresight to bring you a change of clothes and a towel, and, my, was the pattern on the said towel so very interesting.

"What is a frogs favorite game?" you ask so suddenly.

Erryk turns to you, brows furrowing, "pardon?"

"Tell me the frogs' favorite game, ser," you repeat as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Frogs favored game?" he repeats slowly, realizing now that your expression was mockingly innocent. He hums, "I cannot say I-"

"HOPSCOTCH!"

A frog comes leaping into Erryk's face, nearly causing him to topple as he dodges it. He's so flabbergasted by the turn of events, he calls out your name in offence. He is doubly offended by your laughter. His eyes go wide as you hunch forward, leaning on your knees.

"Villain," your ward mutters, scoffing far too many times.

You can barely catch your breath. You fan your face, "frog-ive me."

Erryk's face only contorts further.

"I could not-" you gasp for air, "could not help it."

In truth, if it was any other who did such a childish thing, he'd have shoved them in the water. Alas, you appeared only more beauteous as you made him a fool.

"Forgive me," you repeat in more serious manner, "Gwayne used to scare me this way often. I wished only to know how it felt, and now..." you giggle, "I can't say I blame my brother for constantly pulling tricks on me."

He huffs and shakes his head, "well. I'm glad to have pleased you, my ever-so-kind princess."

You offer him a guilty smile, "apologies."

Erryk shakes his head, "no. Truly. I am glad to see you in such a state."

You fidget with your fingers as a shiver runs down your spine.

He is quick to unravel your towel. He places it on your shoulders, "perhaps we should go back. The sunset is nigh."

You nod, taking your change of clothes from him next.

He turns around offering you your privacy. It takes a while, but you manage to dress yourself. Once you had your shoes on, you dry your hair with your towel and take his arm, "would you please lace up my dress?"

He nods, avoiding your gaze as he feels his face burn. He quickly laces you up then you return to the Keep.

You both had been laughing, up until you made it past the castle gates, promptly being silenced by the loud shout, "PRINCESS!"

Arryk runs over, charging for his brother. Their steel plates collide as Arryk yanks his twin, "where in gods name did you take her?"

Erryk furrows his brows, "we visited a stream-"

"The Keep is in disarray!" Arryk grits his teeth, hissing under his breath, "everyone's looking for her. Everyone."

You watch the twins huddle close and bicker. As it escalates, you try try to come between them, "Arryk. I was the one who asked him to take me outside the keep."

Arryk does not hear you at first, dead set on arguing with his twin. When you repeat your words the second time however, he turns to you, face softening a fraction. He knits his brows turning back to this brother, whispering something that makes Erryk turn to you with wide eyes, "fuck."

"Why?" you look at them in concern, "what it is?"

Arryk opens his mouth, but Erryk grabs his arm and says, "wait."

"There's no other way to say it," Arryk snaps, ripping his arm out his grip.

"Say what?" you knit your brows.

Arryk turns back to you, then lowers his gaze, "the queen... the queen has passed."

Your jaw drops. Your eyes widen. Your hand immediately covers your mouth. The three of you do not speak for a prolonged moment.

You feel your stomach roll, "w-what happened?"

"She could not deliver the babe herself. The maesters... had to intervene."

Intervene? You could not possibly understand what that could mean, and you find that you do not want to. You shake your head, "and her babe? Is- is her babe well at least?"

Arryk clenches his jaw, "she sired a prince named Baelon... he apparently grows weaker by the hour."

You feel bile rise up your throat.

"Your father and your siblings have been looking for you since news broke."

You shake your head, and gather your skirts.

"As has the prince."

Your face twitches at the thought. You do not delay and make your way inside the Keep.

As you tread the halls, you think about what the queen told you just mere hours ago. There is a sharp twinge in your belly as simultaneously remember how Aemma told you to go cheer for Daemon at the tourney and realize you will never hear a word from her ever again. The thought washes over you like water on the beach, sobering but thankfully not overwhelming.

You hadn't realized you had your head bowed until you hear your name called. You still as you look up, the twins halt behind you.

Otto marches over, brows and jaw tight as ever, "where in gods name have you been?"

You straighten your back as he stops before you, "I-"

"Your wards are double," he turns to the kingsguards, "and doubly useless, it seems."

"Father," you step into his line of sight, "do not relieve your rage on them."

Your father turns back to you, expression softening a fraction at your referral. You had not called him father since your argument in the maester's office. He looks at you— takes a good look at you and your sad eyes, your knit brows, your frowning lips. Your hair was darker than it was normally, and as he reaches out for it, he found it was, in fact, damp, "where have you been?"

"I..." you gulp and take a deep breath, "went swimming."

He releases your hair, tilting his head, "with whom? Gwayne has gone."

You pull your head back, "G-Gwayne's gone?"

"The tourney is over. The road is long. He has no reason to stay," Otto says.

Your brows tighten as you shake your head, "he... he didn't... wait for me?"

Otto watches your lips quiver. He watches your nose twitch. When your chest begins to visibly rise and fall, he shakes his head, "what did I tell you?"

You stare blankly at him.

He takes your hands, "what is it I always tell you?"

You clench your jaw and huff through your nostrils, "do not waste your tears on things you cannot change."

Otto rubs your knuckles as he shakes his head again. He gives the Cargyll brothers a look before walking off with you. They make sure to keep their distance before following after.

You turn to your father as he links your arm into his. You are certain, with how he cannot look at you, that he means to tell you something grave. You look front and mimic his demeanor— distant, cold. You are his daughter, face and temperance.

"You enjoyed your swim at least?" he starts, "you are calm?"

You gulp, mentally preparing yourself for what will surely come next. Your voice still falters though, "ye-s."

Otto nods, still not turning to you, "many has occurred since your marriage to Daemon. You admitted you did not consummate your marriage on your wedding night and I was deeply concerned you would fail your duties in producing heirs, especially if your husband was not interested in you."

Your jaw clenches.

"But with the apparent... change of heart your husband has shown, you should know I've had the maesters closely monitor your state."

You knit your brows at that, "you mean my affliction?"

He speaks your name slowly before continuing, "as of yesterday, they have confirmed to me that you are with child."

You whip your head to him and pull away.

Otto does not look at you with the same sense of urgency.

"W-what?"

He sees the fear on your features. He offers a solemn expression and takes your cheeks when your eyes water, "this is good. You should delight, not tremble."

You try to speak but nothing coherent comes out.

"The Queen is dead. Go to your husband and comfort him with this news."

Your mouth goes dry and your father wipes the tears that fall from your eyes. He your name softly. Your sad face looks the exact same it did when his wife died. My baby is having a baby. He frowns and pulls away.

You try to take his hand, but he slips away.

"See her off," the Hand instructs your wards.

Erryk is quick to go to your side, whereas Arryk stares at the back of Otto's head, his lips curling as he did.

"Princess," Erryk says, cautiously reaching your arm.

You turn to him with wide eyes before scratching your tears away, "I-"

"Perhaps you should sit down first."

You pull away from him before he can touch you. The action makes Erryk pull back, an unsavory sensation spreading in his mouth and belly.

"I want to- I—" you take a breath, "I need to find-" you shake your head and begin speeding down the hall.

You were nearly about to break into a sprint, and your wards had to jog up to your side to keep up with you. You don't really know where you're going, but you're getting there, fast.

"Princess, please, slow down," one says.

You can feel your breath and your pulse in your ears.

"Princess."

You find yourself in the halls near one of the gate of the keep. The only reason why you stop is because you hear the voice of your twin. Your breath catches as you lurch towards the window. Gwayne was laughing with one of the guards, already on his horse. Your brows furrow, he couldn't possibly be well enough to be riding on horseback.

You realize quickly this is your last opportunity to go be with your brother, to pull him into an embrace, to worry on him, to tell him your worries, to kiss him goodbye. You know you have to act now and swiftly, but you cannot seem to move.

Your mind is heavy as you think about how your brother is set to leave regardless of your desire to keep close; he said it himself, his place can never be at your side. Though he is the only person who've ever relied on, you know now— you rub your belly, that can no longer be the case. There is only one person you can rely on now... yourself.

It is painful to pull away from the window, but you do, clenching your hands into fists before walking away.

You don't really walk away however, because then, you're frozen in place at the sight of your husband standing a few paces away from you, "Daemon."

He stares at you wordlessly.

You walk towards him, careful as you drag your feet.

He tilts his head and clenches his jaw, "he's leaving any moment now."

You nod, "I know."

"Go to him," he says softly.

"I-"

"Go to him!" he snaps.

You stiffen at his expression. You were adept with anger but he did not look angry. You stop in your tracks, trying to make sense of his restless figure.

Daemon watches you fidget with your fingers.

"If it is your command, I shall obey."

He chuckles dryly, pacing around his spot. He wipes his mouth then charges over, stopping just in front of you. He scoffs when you do not flinch, in disbelief of your constitution. His nostrils flare, "you know my feelings towards your twin."

You slowly shrug, "then you'll be glad to know I came looking for you."

Daemon does not move.

"You know how I feel about my brother..." you mutter, "but..." you lower your gaze, "I'm coming to terms with the fact I can no longer rely on him... it will be better this way."

It takes a moment, but Daemon chuckles. When you look up and his smirk fades. Your beady eyes make it hard to find satisfaction. "So, you will not go to him?" he asks.

You stare.

"You do not want to go to him?"

Your lips part.

He raises his brows.

"I... I do."

Anger rises up his belly, but as if on cue, the sound of horses and carriages moving is heard. You clench your jaw and lower you gaze to prevent yourself from looking back at the window. The prince cannot seem to win, for he should be pleased you did not see your brother off, and yet your sadness leaves sour jealousy in his mouth— he was your husband.

The Cargyll twins look upon you both, appalled by the cruelty of the prince to keep you here as Gwayne leaves for good. Erryk in particular feels restless, unable to stop shifting and fidgeting with his scabbard.

"Shall... shall we go?" you mutter, slowly looking up.

Daemon watches you place a hand on his bicep. He responds only by following you after giving your wards a dismissive look.

The brothers turn to each other, each as unwilling as the other to leave you, but they do anyway.

Daemon is acutely aware of the warmth of your cheek against his arm as you tread down the halls. When, you arrive at your marriage chambers, Daemon opens the door and you notice the bandage wrapped around his hand. He struggles because of this. Once you're inside, you take his arm, eyes trained on his injury, "what happened to your hand?"

Daemon's eyes are fixed on the line between your brows.

"Did you break it?" you turn to him with furrowed eyes.

He pulls away slowly. He wants to know what you'd do next.

"Did you wrap it yourself? It's badly done."

He faintly snorts, "it's on my right hand."

"I'll do it for you," you say, walking towards the vanity.

Daemon follows, watching you procure scissors and vials and other things. You turn to him, motioning to the chair. He sits down, gaze fixed upon you as you take his arm again.

Your eyes are focused on undoing his wrap, "tell me if it hurts,"

His are fixed on your focused expression, "you should sit down."

"I'm fine."

"I want you to sit down," he uses his other hand to grab your wrist.

You stop and turn to him. You turn to the chair across the room but Daemon prevents you from doing so and simply spreads legs, pulling you between his thighs. Quickly, you are sat on his lap and tense look at him. He offers you his injured hand again as his other goes around you, clinging to your hip. He pulls you in, leaning his head against yours to say, "it's a cut, by the way."

You furrow your brows at his admission. You allow yourself a moment to relax before continuing your task. You find it is, in fact, a cut, deep and ugly, "did your lance splinter very badly?"

"No."

You furrow your brows deeper as you turn to him,

"This is glass."

"Glass?" you brow raise, "how did you hurt your hand with glass?"

Daemon licks his lips as he looks at yours. He shrugs, "I broke a bottle."

You pull your head back, "on accident?"

"On purpose," he tilts his head.

You huff and start cleaning his wound, "was the violence in the tourney insufficient?"

He chuckles through his nostrils, "I did not fucking win."

You smear balm on his wound. You do not reply.

It makes him clench his jaw, "and you..."

"..."

"You were not there."

You do not tear your gaze from his injury.

He grumbles, "did you even hear me?"

You lift your gaze then raise brow at him, "you did not want me there. Do you not recall how you cursed at me?"

Your gall makes anger rise up his throat.

You continue wrapping up his hand.

"Well, you were being a bitch," he snaps.

"Why?"

His brows furrow.

"Why was I being a bitch?"

"..."

You spare him a quick glace.

He pulls his head back, "... what?"

"Did I not do my duty?" you turn to him, face blank, "I followed you, congratulated you, inquired of your injuries. I submitted to your desires. Where did I err?" You ask in earnest, "what do you want from me?"

His face contorts. Now that he was faced with such an opportunity, he finds himself unable to speak. What did he want from you?

You wait for him to reply. You prepare yourself for preposterous requirements but you are met only his silence. In that moment, you remember he was just a man. Many a man enjoyed making women suffer. You gulp, thinking about your father.

Perhaps your father was lying. Perhaps he wants you to believe you are with child to get even. After all, Daemon never... finished in you. How then could you be with child?

You secure the binding on his hand, "it is finished."

Daemon does not bother looking at his hand.

"How do you feel?"

He feels a strong urge to shake you... to pull you close.

"My deepest sympathies for the death of your cousin."

He freezes. Right. The queen was dead. He lowers his gaze.

You frown and reach for his cheek. You second guess however and bring your palm to his shoulder instead, "I am here for you, my prince."

His eyes meet yours.

"I am here to care and comfort you."

He leans back, taken by the thought.

You drink in his demeanor, the softness in his eyes, the tension that falls of his shoulders. You release a breath, "if that is what you desire, speak plainly, and do not repel me. Do not ask me to leave if, in fact, you want me to stay."

His throat tightens. He feels like he is ensnared in a bear trap. He rips at his collar, "I... I have other injuries." He pushes you off and paces around as he undoes his top. It is a struggle for him, but he cannot stop or stay still, "cuts and bruises."

You watch as he fidgets and slowly walk over.

"I don't-"

"Daemon."

He stills.

You come in front of him and undo his top yourself. You drop it mindlessly, and once he is bare, he feels conscious under your scrutiny for some reason. You brush your fingers on his ribs, making goosebumps form on his skin. He can't say that that has ever happened to him before. You notice and rub his arms, eyes locked on his torso.

He feels himself getting hard.

"Did you tend to these yourself as well?" you brush over a cut on his hip.

Oh. You were still examining him. He only hums in response.

You frown, "did no maester come to your tent?"

"I..." he starts.

You circle around him, inspecting for other injuries.

"...wanted you to come to my tent."

You come to his side. He finds the frown on your face. You take a moment before saying, "you tended to your wounds well at least."

"I want you."

You nod, "I will tend to you—"

Daemon takes your nape, lowering his head to kiss your lips. It takes a moment for you to relax, and his belly burns at the sound you make when you do. Your hands come to his sides and your nails graze faintly into his flesh.

He pushes you back until your laid on the bed beneath him. His kisses trail down your skin as he works to get you naked. He kisses your shoulder, then your sternum. He makes sure to lick your breast and leave a mark on your rib before peppering kisses down your belly.

Your breath grows heavy when he lingers by your womb, sucking kisses on your skin. Your throat tightens think of your father's words again. It makes you tense, and Daemon feels it. Of course, he doesn't know about your conversation with Otto, and thinks your tension comes from your self-consciousness.

You lift your head, pulling a pillow beneath it, and look down at your husband. You reach for him, tangling your fingers in his silver hair, "Daemon."

He hums, nipping your flesh in response.

You try to sit up, "D-Daemon, I-"

He shushes you, pushing down on your hip bone. He looks up at you, muttering something in High Valyrian.

"Please, Daemon, wait-"

"Be still," he says, violet eyes hooded, "do I not take care of you?"

Your breath hitches as he sinks down.

"Do you not enjoy my mouth?"

"I- that's not-"

"Do you or do you not?"

"I... I do—"

You are not able to speak after he buries his face between your thighs. You are reduced to breathy cries and a twisting spine. Daemon, though he continues to hold you down, relishes every second of it and feasts more ardently. He sighs, securing your thighs on his shoulders, nudging his face deeper into you, his nose brushing against your pearl.

He relishes how quickly your wetness builds, and soon, he feels your arousal dribbling down his chin. He moans, nails biting crescent moons into your skin. Your belly rises and falls in sync with the crescendo of your mewls. At this point, both your hands are tangled into his hair, and your pulling and scratching only further inspires his tongue.

You call out his name, screwing your eyes shut as you throw your head back and arch your body. Quickly, your belly tightens and you sequentially dig your heels into his shoulder blades. He squeezes your thighs enough to make them bruise, and yet the pain is what pushes you into orgasm, garnering a lewd and loud sound from your mouth.

Daemon hums, lifting his face just enough to see yours as he brings you to peak. He moans at your expression, grinding his hips into the cushion, desperate for friction.

Your body trembles, unable to settle as his burning mouth persists on your molten mound. You begin to squeak and he catches the moment you open your eyes to look at him all teary. It drives him mad. With a deep inhale, he pulls away, wiping his chin before he undoes his breeches.

You relax and catch your breath, hands dropping to your sides.

Daemon watches you, your trembling legs glistening with the pleasure he's drawn out. He can feel himself throbbing in his pants. You watch as he hastily frees himself. Though your head was hazy and your body was tried, your belly burned at sight of the sticky liquid dripping down your husband's neck.

"Fuck, Daemon," you reach for his belly. You trace his defined muscles with your finger tips. He snatches your hands when he finally pushes his pants down.

You squeak when he pushes you to your side, one hand on your shoulder, another hiking your leg up by the knee. You whine as he folds you into the sheets just before sliding his hardened cock in your wet cunt.

He hisses, leaning down to your neck. His words are hot against your skin, but you understand nothing.

Whatever tenderness he had before was gone, now he was just fucking you like a rabid animal. Daemon could not help himself, he loved how supple and pliable you were, and twists you into a form that keeps you prone. When the bed begins to creak because of his thrusts, he holds you down where your neck and collarbone meet. He puts enough pressure to restrict your breathing, but not enough to choke out your pretty noises.

At some point, he decides your leg is getting in the way and pushes you flat on your chest. He then gathers you by the hip, hiking you up enough to fuck you nicely from behind.

His thrusts are more intense now. You scream into the cushion as you find your elbows. Before you can prop yourself up though, he's pinning you down by the shoulder, saying something in High Valyrian again.

"D-Daemon," you whine, left cheek smushed against your pillow. You could feel your next climax building quickly.

He responds by rubbing your clit, drawing tears and another scream out of you because of your sensitivity.

You feel yourself helplessly clenching and unclenching around him, absolutely boneless under his vigorous intrusion. You could feel your knees slipping but Daemon's grip on you would not see you move from your position. Your toes curl. Saliva drips out your open mouth.

"Māzigon va, riña," he snorts, "sepār mirrī angotan tolī." Come on, girl. Just a little bit more."

You do not understand, so you only whine out, "Daemon."

Daemon growls and rubs one side of your ass, "you're doing so good for me."

He spanks you, but that's not what makes your eyes open.

"Milk my cock with your tight cunny, come slut."

You begin to grit your teeth.

"I want to see my seed dripping down your thighs," he groans, mind unable to focus on anything but the hot, wet slapping of your skin.

It's unsurprising that you come first, as Daemon always assures you do to underscore his control and dominance over you. He yelps out a sharp fuck, nearly coming in your cunt because of how your body seizes up around him. Your orgasm overwhelming, yet your eyes water for more than this reason. His words make you aware your husband sees you nothing more as a vessel for pleasure, and your pleasure is regretfully cut short because of how sharply he pulls out, his load spraying on your already dripping labia and pubic hair.

He strokes himself a few times, feeling his cock twitch in his hand as he watches your mixed come trickle down your legs. He sighs, "fuck," then scoops the cream in two fingers, plunging it in and out your still spasming cunt.

You squeal when he finger fucks you, body unable to remain upright. You are grateful he loses interest rather quickly and crumble into the bed as he stands.

You watch him walk over to the drawer, where he then pours himself some wine. You gulp, remembering your dream from last night. It sobers you out your high. You clench your jaw and roll over to clean yourself up. You head to your vanity and wipe yourself down, grabbing your robe was you do.

Daemon, whose thirst was now quenched, turns back to you with a towel. He is confused to see you standing. He watches you flip your hair behind you, pulling it out of your robe, which you then secure around yourself. He knits his brows as he walks over, "what are you doing?"

You turn to him, sitting on the vanity chair, "getting ready for bed."

Daemon stares, and you take his prolonged silence as an indication to proceed with your nightly routine.

The prince squeezes the damp towel in his hand as he watches you brush your hair. You catch his stillness from the mirror and turn back to him, "oh."

You drop your brush and take the towel from him, "I'll help you clean up."

Normally, he enjoyed this, but right now, he can't. He is offended when you begin to pick up his clothes, so much that he scoffs, "the fuck are you doing?"

You halt midway picking up his trousers. You stand and turn to the closet, "ah. Did you want new clothes?"

He pulls his head back, no longer offended, but hurt, "you want me to leave?"

You are caught off guard by his question. You stare at him for a moment, unsure if he was serious. You could not identify his expression, so you did not know if you should tell him the truth. You would not survive being berated after confessing you wanted to sleep with him. You dodge the answer altogether, "weren't you leaving anyway?"

Daemon's cheeks tense. He huffs, stepping forward, yanking his clothes out of your hands, "no."

You are bewildered by his actions, for to you, his actions are sudden. You are petrified in fear, which is why you instinctively begin to apologize, "f-forgive me, I-I-"

His nostrils flare and his jaw sets.

"I-" you motion with a hand, "- you always leave."

His clenches his jaw, "do you want me to leave?"

"I—" your throat tightens and soon you can no longer look at him. You want to beg him to stay, but you recall how you did that with your father, and your mother, and your brother— begging does not make people stay. You whisper, "I... I'm terrified."

When you lift your gaze, Daemon shirks and decides to dress. He gulps as he pulls his trousers up, turning back to you. He clenches his fist before reaching out for you.

Your heart races as he takes your hand.

"You've served me well. If you are terrified... I'll leave you."

You whimper when he pulls away, holding him tighter than he did before your hands part. Your lips quiver. He knits his brows. You shake your head, "I- I... I do not want you to go."

He is taken off guard by how you suddenly embrace him.

"Please," you beg, though you knew it would not serve you well, "stay."

He turned to stone. He cannot seem to move at all but your arms are determined to stay around him. You begin to weep against his skin and he can feel your breath grow ragged. Only then does he manage to return your affection.

He brushes your dark hair away from your face and cradles you against him.

"Daemon."

He leans into you, enough to be able to brush his cheek against yours, "kesan umbagon." I will stay.

You sniffle then sigh. After a while, you ask, "what does that mean?"

"I will stay."

You sigh again, pulling away to look at him. You offer him a sad smile, "thank you."

He frowns, wiping your tears.

When you go back to bed, you offer him space in case you've made him uncomfortable. He stares at you, awaiting your embrace. You are mere inches apart but it feels like yards and yards. Why do you not wish to hold him like you did last night?

"Good night, husband," you say before turning over.

He chuckles dryly, staring at your dark hair. He turns to the ceiling, "good night."

[astrolook]

🔥💪 Mars As Darakaraka - Lover, Fighter or Probably Both💪🔥

Note: These are just my personal observations and recurring patterns I've noticed over the years from married clients, relatives and friends. Take what resonates with you and leave the rest. Feel free to share in the comments if any of this hits home. This post is based on Vedic astrology.

Mars as Darakaraka - Lover with a plan Your spouse will be bold, headstrong, and fiercely independent. They’re action-oriented and won’t wait around for help, they’ll do it themselves, even if it bruises their ego. Expect quick tempers in fire signs, silent treatment in earth signs, and emotional outbursts or guilt-tripping in water signs. They like things done their way and any deviation from the plan? Cue the irritation. Often tanned or sun-kissed, they love being outdoors. Think horse riding, biking, or just actively doing things around the house. They're not the type to sit still, and laziness genuinely annoys them. Prone to get injuries and vehicle accidents.

Emotional Expression:

Fire signs: Can be physically expressive sometimes breaking things or, in worst cases (esp. with Saturn), showing anger through physical abuse.

Water signs: Emotional manipulation, tears for attention, mood swings.

Earth signs: Calm exterior, silent treatment masters. You may never know when they’re mad... until it’s too late.

When they're down, they can become unpredictable, hot and cold, distant one day, intense the next. In a good mood, though? Total fun. Never boring, always on the go.

Professions: STEM fields, military, law enforcement, sports, tourism, digital creators (YouTubers/podcasters), manufacturing, any field that needs drive, risk-taking, or hustle.

☀️ Mars + Sun: Bold, blunt, no BS. Can come off rude, doesn’t tolerate drama. Highly-educated.

🪐 Mars + Saturn: Age difference possible or mature than you and teach you things, either a mentor or emotionally manipulative depending on signs and house placement. If Saturn is retrograde, they may sulk when upset and find it hard to say no. Often exploited by others. Significant age gap.

🧠 Mars + Mercury: Sharp wit, cutting words. If Mercury is Rx, brutal comebacks, sarcastic bombs, dormant-volcano vibes.

💘 Mars + Venus: Sky-high chemistry and libido. Can indicate extramarital affairs if placed in 6th, 8th, or 12th houses.

🌍 Mars + Jupiter: Foreign spouse likely, especially if in Sagittarius, Aquarius, Pisces, or houses 7, 9, 11, 12. If Jupiter is Rx, you might move in to their hometown and settle down with them.

House Placements:

1st: Obsessed with you (for good or bad) and your goals. Ride-or-die energy. Can be nosey at times like checking your phone or calling you 5 times a day.

2nd: Makes money, spends it faster. Budget? What's that?

3rd: Possible sibling tension (yours or theirs). Either best friends or beef.

4th: Clashes with family or feels unwelcome at home.

5th: Unplanned pregnancy, in some cases. Romantic chaos included.

6th: Both partners working, time management and compromise are keys.

7th: Young at heart. Their moods mirror yours. Big impact on your public life.

8th: Seductive. Uses charm to win fights. Heated arguments = steamy makeup sessions.

9th: Opinionated. Preaches unsolicited wisdom.

10th: Career-driven. May see you as the trophy. Big spender on lifestyle.

11th: Social butterfly. Has 20 friend groups and rotates through them like wardrobe.

12th: Calm on the outside, storm inside. When they blow up? Run. Holds grudges long after "forgiving."

Next Post will be about Jupiter as Darakaraka!

Wanna dive deeper into your chart's layers? ✨🔍 DM me for a full astrology reading, a 5 or 8-year marriage report, or a detailed synastry breakdown 🌙💬 Check out my pinned post for pricing and more info 💫💸

Let’s decode your cosmic chaos together ⭐💖

[todays-xkcd]

Hint: If you ever encounter this puzzle in a crossword app, just [term for someone with a competitive and high-achieving personality].

A Crossword Puzzle [Explained]

Transcript

[A square 15x15 crossword puzzle is shown. Only 21 of the 225 squares are black. The black squares are in a pattern that are 180 degree rotationally symmetrical. Three black squares down from the 11th column and similarly three black squares up from the 5th column. Three black squares out from the right in row 7 and then two more black squares diagonally up from the end. Similarly three black squares out from the left in row 9 with two more black squares diagonally down from the end. A single black square is three above the first black square on the diagonal going down to the right and similarly there is a black square three under the first of the diagonal squares going down to the left. (Row 6 column 12 and Row 10 column 4). Finally there are three black squares on a diagonal crossing over the central point by going up from the left through the central point (Row 8 column 8). There are numbers at the top of every column (except the one that is a black square) and similarly at the left edge of all rows (except the one that is a black square). There are also numbers at the bottom of every black segment (except the one that reaches the bottom) and all rows after black segments except the one that reaches the right edge. In total all numbers from 1 to 51 is written. They are written in reading order from 1 to 51.]

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

[Below the square there are two rows of clues for each number that belongs to across (rows) and to the right there are one row of clues for each number that belongs to down (columns). Both segments have an underlined and bold title above the clues. ]

'''Across'''

1. Famous Pvt. Wilhelm quote

11. IPv6 address record

15. "CIPHERTEXT" decrypted with Vigenère key "CIPHERTEXT"

16. 8mm diameter battery

17. "Warthog" attack aircraft

18. Every third letter in the word for "inability to visualize"

19. An acrostic hidden on the first page of the dictionary

21. Default paper size in Europe

22. First four unary strings

23. Lysine codon

24. 40 CFR Part 63 subpart concerning asphalt pollution

25. Top bond credit rating

26. Audi coupe

27. A pair of small remote batteries, when inserted

29. Unofficial Howard Dean slogan

32. A 4.0 report card

33. The "Harlem Globetrotters of baseball" (vowels only)

34. 2018 Kiefer song

35. Top Minor League tier

36. Reply elicited by a dentist

38. ANAA's airport

41. Macaulay Culkin's review of aftershave

43. Marketing agency trade grp.

44. Soaring climax of Linda Eder's ''Man of La Mancha''

46. Military flight community org.

47. Iconic line from ''Tarzan''

48. Every other letter of Jimmy Wales's birth state

49. Warthog's postscript after "They call me ''mister'' pig!"

50. Message to Elsa in ''Frozen 2''

51. Lola, when betting it all on Black 20 in ''Run Lola Run''

“Down

1. Game featuring "a reckless disregard for gravity"

2. 101010101010101010101010 [sub]2→16

3. Google phone released July '22

4. It's five times better than that ''other'' steak sauce

5. ToHex(43690)

6. Freddie Mercury lyric from ''Under Pressure''

7. Full-size Audi luxury sedan

8. Fast path through a multiple choice marketing survey

9. 12356631 in base 26

10. Viral Jimmy Barnes chorus

11. Ruby Rhod catchphrase

12. badbeef + 9efcebbb

13. In Wet Let's ''Ur Mum'', what the singer has been practicing

14. Refrain from Nora Reed bot

20. Mario button presses to ascend Minas Tirith's walls

24. Vermont historic route north from Bennington

26. High-budget video game

28. Unorthodox Tic-Tac-Toe win

29. String whose SHA-256 hash ends "...689510285e212385"

30. Arnold's remark to the Predator

31. The vowels in the fire salamander's binomial name

32. Janet Leigh ''Psycho'' line

34. Seven 440Hz pulses

37. Audi luxury sports sedan

38. A half-dozen eggs with reasonably firm yolks

39. 2-2-2-2-2-2 on a multitap phone keypad

40. .- .- .- .- .- .-

42. Rating for China's best tourist attractions

43. Standard drumstick size

45. "The rain/in Spain/falls main-/ly on the plain" rhyme scheme

[eden031]

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Pairing: Jack Abbot x intern!f!reader

Warnings: fluff, kissing, everyone at the Pitt being nosy bitches

Summary: A slow evening is turned into pure chaos when they come to the Pitt

A/N: The next part is finally here! I am so sorry for taking so long writing this, but I kind of got kicked in the butt by uni and needed to make sure I didn‘t fall behind in the first two weeks :), I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next chapter will be the last chapter of this story, though there will be more Jack Abbot coming your way in the near future, but also some more Robby content. Please be patient with the updates! The second part of ‚Sweet boy‘ is still in the works, another Jack Abbot fic that is going to be a lot more angsty is also in the making, as well as two more Robby works. Lots of love <3

The blaring of an alarm woke her from the best sleep she had probably had in years. A soft goran escaped her as she stirred, a warm hand resting on her stomach, shoved under the hoodie. The warm breath of Jack tickled her neck. It was like she was still dreaming, but she knew it was reality, the warm hand on her stomach, the feeling of someone pressed up behind her was real. The hand stirred slightly as the blaring continued, Jack hummed softly, nuzzling his face into her neck.

The fuzzy blanket of content she had felt before when she was around him settled over her mind, like it was just right for her to be laying there with him. His scent enveloping her, the unscented soap, the smell of his shampoo that also clung to her hair, that warm and earthy tone she was not sure what it was, but she loved it so much. She wanted to stay like this forever, to wake up like this every single morning.

“Can you please turn off that alarm,” she groaned softly, her peace disturbed by the blaring that didn’t seem to stop. A low groan from Jack followed as he turned slightly, his hand leaving her stomach, a small disapproving grumble came from her, though a clack followed and the alarm was turned off. A relieved sigh escaped her. Jack’s hand settled on her stomach again, gently stroking the skin, drawing small patterns on it

“What time is it?” she hummed as she snuggled into the blanket further, pulling it tighter against her chin as she buried her nose in the pillow, taking deep breaths, trying to keep the moment going forever.

“Half past five,” he hummed as she felt him nuzzle his face into her neck, placing a soft kiss there. Another groan escaped her, that meant they would have to start getting ready for the shift soon if they wanted to be on time. Tommy would probably be worried if she was late. Tommy probably had been worried when she didn’t show up to the apartment in the morning.

“Shit!” she was suddenly wide awake as she practically fell out of bed. This was bad, this was really bad. He and Maise probably freaked out when they firstly couldn’t reach her anymore and when she didn’t come back to the apartment.

“What is wrong?” Jack asked as he also rolled out of bed. Practically running out the room she headed towards her backpack, almost tearing it open she dug around for her phone, pulling it out she saw over sixty missed calls from Tommy, about the same amount from Masie and a bombardment of text messages. Groaning, she dropped the phone back into the backpack. Sitting down on her heels she put her face in her hands, feeling the stress ebb away as a mean thought crossed her mind, telling her that it served them right. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Jack leaning on the crutches in the doorway, his expression a mixture of worry, confusion and if she was not mistaken hurt. His curls a whole mess, all ruffled and tousled, squinting slightly as he looked at her, an imprint of something on his face, it looked like it could be the hood of the hoodie she was wearing.

“I didn’t text Tommy or Masie that I wouldn’t be coming back to the apartment.” she muttered as she remained seated on the ground, giving him an apologetic look. Jack just shrugged, a soft smile on his lips as he looked at her. The expression shifted to pure amusement as he nodded his head.

“Just call them now, but that's what they get from keeping you away from your bed,” he sounded amused, a huff came from her as she got up from her awkward position on the ground. Walking towards him she grinned as she stopped closely in front of him, her chest touching his as she tilted her head to the side.

“I think I actually need to thank them for that, don’t I?” she had to suppress a grin as Jack let out a small huff.

“I don’t think you should,” he titled his head in the same direction she had hers. Now their eyes met again and she saw that hunger in the hazel eyes again, they were blown wide as he looked at her.

“Yeah?” she leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips, he pressed back, their mouths moving against each other in a perfect rhythm. It was more desperate this time, there was more urgency in the way they moved, the feeling of his tongue in her mouth, the way they moved together sending tingles straight down her spine and right to her core.

Jack let out a low groan as she nipped at his lower lip. Feeling his hands tense against the handles of the crutches she drew back slightly, her breath heavy, the feeling of his warmth close to her making her dizzy.

The spell over them was broken when her phone began buzzing in her backpack again. A low groan escaped her lips as she drew away from Jack. In his face she could see that if he was not dependent on the crutches at the moment he would have grabbed her and thrown her over his shoulder.

Quickly heading over to her backpack she fished out her phone and saw Tommy on the caller ID. Taking a steadying breath she picked up the phone, feeling like she might actually combust as Jack slowly made his way through the hallway, towards the kitchen, probably getting some coffee ready.

“Yeah,” she picked up her phone, still sounding a bit breathless as she spoke. Her eyes followed Jack, who had paused in the doorframe when she had picked up. His eyes wandering over to her, then slowly drifting back, a soft smile on his face as he fully moved into the kitchen.

“Thank fuck you picked up! We were worried sick” Tommy sighed, she could hear Masie sighing as well in the background. A soft laugh escaped her lips as she slowly got up from the kneeling position she had been in.

“Sorry, I kind of forgot my phone in the backpack when I fell asleep,” she muttered as she followed Jack into the kitchen, watching him sitting on one of the chairs while he was grinding down the coffee beans for the filter coffee. He looked up from what he was doing as she entered, giving her a small smile.

“So you are okay?” Tommy sounded guilty as he spoke softly, usually he would probably be joking about her falling asleep in the park, but she knew that it had happened far too often in the past few weeks for it to be okay. Tommy would tell her that he and Masie were in the middle of something and she would go and sit in the park until he called her. Usually she fell asleep on the bench and she thought that it was a small miracle that nothing had happened to her yet.

“Yes, I am fine. Someone let me crash at their place,” she explained, keeping it purposefully vague, she knew that that would get Tommy’s attention. Jack huffed as he gave her a small smirk, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he continued to grind the coffee. Giving him a mildly humorous glance she pulled out two mugs from the cabinet, setting them down beside the filter carafe.

“I am…” Tommy paused, he sounded like he was about to start crying, “I am sorry, we shouldn’t have…” he trailed off again, a soft laugh came from her. Glancing at Jack who gave her a warning glance she continued to talk.

“Apology accepted, Tommy,” she spoke softly,”Just let me know in advance if you an Maise want to have some time to yourselves,” she paused, giving Jack a small smirk as she continued to talk, “Then I can plan my sleepovers in advance and don’t have to do that spontaneously,”

Jack snorted slightly at the comment, though as she winked in his direction he smirked softly, tilting his head to the side. She could hear soft murmuring in the background of the other line, probably Tommy asking Masie something. There was a beat of silence then Tommy spoke again.

“Do you need me to pick you up before the shift or will you manage?” his voice sounded a lot more curious now, a lot more interested in what had occurred. Probably because Masie had pointed out to him that she would not have crashed on just a random person’s sofa and be in this good of a mood.

“I will manage. Thank you, Tommy. See you later,” she hung up before Tommy could say anything else. A quiet satisfaction grew in her stomach as she pushed her phone into the pocket of Jack’s sweatpants.

“Planning our sleepover, as in?” Jack asked as a small smirk grew on his lips. The corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, a fond expression on his face as he slightly beckoned her over to where he was sitting. Slowly walking over him she stepped between his legs again, the feeling of being this close to him while the soft scent of coffee filled the air was calming. He had finished grinding the coffee, placing the mill on the table as he looked up at her.

“Oh, you know…” she shrugged, a small smile on her lips, “Bringing some stuff with me, like a toothbrush and you know,” she grinned slightly. Jack reached out, placing one of his large hands on her waist, gently running his thumb over her stomach.

“What do you think about dinner?” he asked softly, his eyes gleaming in the yellow light of the kitchen, the hazel almost appearing golden while the sun shone through the windows, illuminating his face beautifully.

“Tonight?” she was slightly taken aback by the question. Jack sounded like he was not sure if she was real, like she might disappear any moment if he didn’t continue to hold on to her. The hold on her waist was tight, but not painful.

“No,” he shook his head slightly, a small smile on his lips as he tilted his head back to look at her better, “Saturday, I know you have your night off on Saturday nights, seven thirty, what do you think?” His voice was gravelly as he spoke softly.

“That sounds good,” she smiled at him, leaning down slightly she gently pressed her lips to his in a longer peck. Even if she wanted to do very different things now with Jack she also knew that they would be late for work. Jack gently pressed back, not moving, just staying in that position for a few moments, like they were meant to be like this. Carefully she drew back, feeling like all her breath had been robbed from her lungs as she smiled at him.

“Mind making the coffee?” he asked, his voice still slightly rough from sleep. Nodding softly she took the mill, turning around to walk towards the counter and make the coffee. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Jack still sitting in the same spot, his eyes fixed on her.

“Are you checking out my ass?” she asked, a humorous tone in her voice as she started heating up the water in the kettle sitting on the counter.

“Always,” Jack mumbled, a low hum of what sounded like appreciation came from him as she laughed, shaking her head slightly. A comfortable silence settled between them while she started brewing the coffee. In between every pour she did other little things, getting out the plates, something Jack protested, though she had insisted that she wanted to do this, that she did not feel obligated to do this for him. For her it was a comfort, a kind of way to show him that she cared, to show him that he mattered to her, just like the granola bar had been.

“Here you go,” she said softly as she placed the plate with toast with cheese and cucumber and some scrambled tofu with tomatoes in front of him along with a cup of steaming hot black coffee. As she was about to draw her hand away completely Jack caught it with his, gently pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Thank you,” he spoke in a low tone. Her heart fluttered slightly as she squeezed his hand gently.

“Of course,” she was hesitant, but leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, smelling his shampoo in the salt and pepper curls. Slowly drawing back she went to get her own dinner, sitting down across from him she gave him a small smile as he took a bite of the scrambled tofu. His eyes fluttered closed as a soft moan escaped his lips.

“I will never get how you get it to taste like eggs,” he hummed softly as he continued to eat the food she had made for them. Laughing softly she gently nudged his foot with her’s, a soft smile came to his lips.

“What?” he tilted his head to the side, eyes solely focused on her as she studied him. The lines around his face were as evident as always, set deep with worry and the weight of everything that had ever happened to him, of everything he had seen and done. Though there was more to it now, there had been more to it for a while, she knew as much. There was this soft fondness that had grown into something bigger with each passing day, with every shift they spent together.

“I just wanted to tell you that your little snores are really cute,” she teased softly as she grinned at him over the rim of the mug. Jack let out a snort as he gave her one of those disapproving looks he was so good at.

“I don’t snore,” he spoke so confidently that it made her want to laugh at him. He did snore, it was not loud nor was it often, but from time to time during the night he would let out one of those cute little snores, the kind someone would expect from a cat.

“You do snore,” she grinned into the mug as Jack huffed again, like he was deeply offended by the statement. As she looked at him over the rim of the mug she could see his eyes fixed on her, the hazel gleaming with adoration as he slowly ate the food she had made for him.

Breakfast and getting ready for their shift had been a quick affair. Both of them had changed into their work clothes, Jack had put everything in the dryer overnight and she could change into a pair of clean scrubs. The second pair that had been drenched now found its way into the now also dry backpack while she packed everything. Jack had insisted on her taking the hoodie she had been wearing during the night, the temperatures had dropped a good bit due to the rain and he had been persistent that her jacket was not thick enough along with her scrubs and undershirt.

The walk to the hospital had been nice, Jack had held her hand, at first she had not been sure if he would do it, but while they walked together his hand wrapped around hers. The feeling of his fingers being intertwined with hers was comforting, even if the walk was a short one. They had chatted quietly the entire way to the hospital, speaking in a soft tone while they walked. As they got closer to the PTMC she had to admit that she was glad Jack had made her wear the hoodie over the scrubs while they walked. The smell of him was comforting as the nervousness rose, she was not sure why she was nervous, no one knew that she had slept at Jack’s place, though it would probably become very obvious once she walked into the PTMC wearing his hoodie, while he walked right beside her.

They had let go of each other’s hands as they started winding through the waiting room packed with people. There was a lot more backlog than usual, people with minor injuries that should have long been seen and discharged were still sitting there, the mood seemed to be sour and while she and Jack walked through the throng of people some tried to grab them, talk to them, get them to explain to the people why they had to wait so long to be seen by a Doctor.

One patient in particular had grabbed the side of her jacket, he was not angry, but he seemed to be in a great deal of pain as he grabbed her. Freezing up she felt the hand around her throat again, the hand buried in her scrubs while she was being shaken violently. Nausea rose in her stomach.

“I need you to let go of her,” Jack spoke in a calm, yet firm tone with the patient one of his hands was placed in her back, trying to comfort her. His eyes flickered between her and the patient, “Once we are inside we will make sure that you are seen as soon as possible,” Jack was firm with his words, the patient looked at him with wide eyes, suddenly seeming to realise what he had done.

“I am so sorry,” he apologized, shame growing on his features as he suddenly let go of her, the feeling of tension disappearing from her shoulders as he did.

“It’s alright,” she gave him a gentle smile as she felt Jack’s hand run down her back, carefully grabbing her hand as he led her away from the patient. He did not have to say anything as he looked at her with a certain measure of concern in his eyes.

“I’m okay,” she spoke softly as they walked towards the staff entrance. His hand still interlocked with hers as he practically dragged her along. Lupe saw them coming and luckily buzzed them in quickly. As they entered the chaos of the Pitt Jack let go of her hand, heading towards the nurses’ station while she made her way towards the lockers, shoving in her backpack and Jack’s hoodie.

Looking over her shoulder she could see Princess glaring at the hoodie like it had personally offended her. Perlah standing next to her with a smug grin on her lips. As the two women saw that she had spotted them they exchanged a few quick words in Tagalog, then disappeared down the hallway. Shaking her head slightly she thought that this was going to spread like wildfire.

Heading towards central she saw Princess and Perlah talking to Dana and Mateo, these two women worked quicker than any national news hotline. She could see Bridgit leaning against the counter beside Dana, both of the charge nurses wearing a satisfied smirk as Mateo looked mildly disappointed.

Ellis was already there, leaning against one of the work stations while Collins was talking to her in low tones. Slowly she approached the two women, hoping to catch some parts of the transfer. Usually Collins always did these thoroughly and Jack always said that there was a lot she could learn from Collins. As she approached she heard Ellis speaking.

“Yeah, did you see that pepp in his step? Either he got laid or something else happened because I am telling you that this is not normal for him,” Ellis sounded almost as invested in this conversation as she had sounded when talking to Olsen about the bets being placed about her and Jack knowing each other before she started working at the PTMC.

“Do you think the pool might start emptying soon?” Collins asked as she grinned slightly. Leaning against the workstation as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Ellis hummed at that, letting her head fall from side to side in contemplation.

“Honestly if it does, whoever hit the jackpot is going to be rich! Hell surgery even started betting some time ago,” Ellis paused, shaking her head in what appeared to be amusement, “I think there are well over a thousand bucks in that pool, probably close to two thousand,”

Collins nodded, slowly she decided that maybe it would be best to change direction, turning she looked around trying to find someone she could talk to and at least pretend to do something productive. Squinting slightly she looked around for Jack, who was nowhere to be seen, probably on the roof talking to Dr. Robby. Finally she saw someone she could talk to, Tommy, who had just walked into the Pitt, hands shoved into his pockets as he looked around.

“Tommy!” she called out, a grin on her face as she walked over to him. As a few heads turned she realised that this had probably been the stupidest idea of the entire day, calling out to him just confirmed that they had arrived separately, something that had not happened in ages, practically since her second night on the night shift.

—————————

That thought had proven right, the second she had called out to him Collins and Ellis had practically kidnapped her. Dragged her towards the workstation and pretended to explain something to her, though it was obvious that the two women were inspecting her. Suddenly Ellis leaned in closer, like she was trying to get a whiff of how she smelled.

The older woman squinted slightly after she had taken a painfully obvious deep breath as she leaned in.

“You out of shampoo?” Ellis asked in a playful tone as she nudged her with her elbow. Raising her eyebrow at Ellis she decided that maybe it would be fun to play a little cat and mouse when they were already trying to get information out of her.

“Oh, no,” she shook her head, looking at the chart Collins had put in front of her, “I just crashed at a friend’s place yesterday. He sadly doesn’t have a more feminine shampoo,” there was a slight hint of humour in her tone, “But I will probably change that in the future,”

That comment made Ellis’ and Collins’ head snap in her direction, their eyes wide as she shrugged slightly. A small smile in her face as she looked at the two women.

“Sooo, this friend of yours…” Collins paused, glancing at Ellis with a conspiratory smirk on her lips, “Do we know him?”

“Hmm,” she pretended to think about it for a second, though suddenly an idea popped into her mind, wanting to keep them on edge and not tell anyone anything in case Jack did not want people to know.

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” she winked at the two senior residents as she turned to head towards Bridgit who seemed to be in a heated conversation with Shen, who looked like he might actually start throwing things, though Bridgit didn’t look better.

“You have a minute?” Tommy asked softly as he appeared beside her, a soft smile on his lips as he saw her. There was some guilt evident on his features as he approached.

“Of course,” she gave him a soft smile as they continued to walk towards central. Tommy fiddled with his hands.

“I know that you said that it was okay for you, but Masie and I wanted to apologize again,” he paused for a moment, looking like he might actually sink into the ground, “We were also wondering if you would prefer for me to move out of the apartment again,” Tommy spoke so softly that it made her heart clench.

“Listen, Tommy,” she paused, taking a deep breath. “I am in too good of a mood for a conversation like this, but I really don’t mind it. If you want to move out, I will not stop you, but I really enjoy your company.” She tilted her head to the side, trying to be a bit reassuring, when suddenly a loud cheer came from central. Robby and Dana had high fived as Jack stood there, his expression mildly pissed off as Robby and Dana held out their hands towards Princess who looked mildly pissed off as well.

“Come on, that’s just rude!” Bridgit laughed as she leaned against the desk, “Leave the old man alone,”

Slowly they approached the nurses’ station, all eyes turned to her as she glanced at Jack with a raised brow. He did not seem to notice her while glaring at everyone else standing around them.

“I swear to god, could you not have waited until next week!” Princess looked so annoyed at Jack, who gave her an even angrier glare, then looked at Robby with an expression that basically spelled out that he was going to kill him.

“No one can do anything in peace in this place without you people betting on it,” Jack sighed, sounding rather annoyed as he shook his head.

“The woman of the hour,” Dana grinned at her as she saw her and Tommy approach the nurses’ station. Jack's head snapped to the side, a small and fond smile growing on his face as he saw them coming towards them. Princess let out a sigh as she saw his line of sight, like she was completely done with this entire day.

“What’s going on?” She tilted her head to the side, having a very good idea of what was going on. A fluttering grew in her stomach as she saw Jack’s hand twitching slightly, both she and Tommy settled into the nurses’ station, she leaned against the desk, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Trying to settle what is going on so we can finally close the biggest betting pool we have had in years!” Princess crossed her arms in front of her chest, tilting her head to the side, tapping her foot in annoyance, “And Dr. Abbot won’t tell us the whole story,”

She let out an amused snort as she looked between everyone gathered around them. Trying to see how much they knew and how much Jack had already told them. His hand twitched again, the need to simply grab it and hold on to him growing in the pit of her stomach as she glanced between Robby and Dana, who seemed to know more than the rest of the Pitt crew.

“What is going on here?” The loud voice of Gloria made everyone scatter as quickly as possible, not wanting to be the reason for the CMO’s bad mood.

By the shift change from night shift to day shift Ellis held a thick envelope stuffed with cash in her hands, a satisfied grin on her face, Robby was the victim of disapproving stares by Jack and more than enough people were interested in being told the whole story in great detail.

—————

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[band--psycho]

Poly!141 x Reader - Stop The Wedding (Part 8)

I hope you all enjoy this part 💛 just to warn you all in advance, this chapter is quite long!

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you for all the continued support 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

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Catch up on the previous part here: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 /Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 9

Warnings: Feelings of anger, confusion, jealousy, brief mentions of death/being killed/being shot, angst

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You didn’t know what to do. 

You couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard you tried to, your mind just wouldn’t shut off. 

You didn’t know who to believe…you didn’t know who you wanted to believe. 

You should’ve wanted to believe Phillip, you were going to be his wife after all; but if you believed Phillip it meant that he was right about your exes. 

Jealous exes. 

Bitter exes. 

It was a narrative made sense, that they were just twisting the facts to favor themselves, to put themselves in a better light. 

Meaning that they were happy to hurt you all over again. 

But there was something about how Phillip had reacted that caused you to doubt him…

You’d never seen him so defensive, so angry; so avoidant of answering a question. 

He went from not knowing who Johnny and Simon were; to knowing that they were your exes, but he would’ve known them before that. 

He lied to you. 

Did that mean that his version of the situation was a complete lie?

Did they try to kill him in retaliation for what he’d done to them? 

Did they just go round killing his men to get revenge?

Or was the only reason his men were killed was because your exes felt threatened. 

Or did the truth, as it so often did, lie somewhere in the middle of both parties' story. 

But if so why would he leave you here alone if they were so dangerous?

It didn’t make any sense. 

An aggravated groan fell from your lips as you grabbed your phone and typed a number you’d memorised by heart; a number that you thought you were never going to text again. 

"We need to talk; come to the house. No one else, just you" was all you typed out; blunt and concise; somewhat like the very man that the message was going to. 

You weren’t entirely sure why you texted Simon: maybe it’s because you’d already messaged and called Y/f/n and had no reply…and you just needed to talk to someone.

Someone who you knew wouldn’t lie to you. 

You didn’t even know if he was still going to be awake at this hour, though you doubted his sleeping patterns had changed that drastically. 

But you did know that he was there that night. 

That he’d be able to give you a detailed explanation of what had happened that night; a factual one. 

Void of much, if any emotion, unlike Johnny who you could tell was just a bundle of rage and hurt,Simon knew how to shut off his emotions in a way none of the others did. 

You were worried if they were all present again that you’d just get angry as they tried to persuade you out of marrying Phillip. 

That’s not what you needed.

You need to know what happened. 

Once you had Simon's version of events; the full version, not just a snippet like he gave you earlier, then you’d try to talk to Phillip again and get his version. 

And hone that your gut would guide you into knowing who was lying and who was telling the truth. 

~~~~~

Simon wasn’t surprised often, but your text, that had caught him off guard a little.

He was certain that you weren’t going to want to talk to any of them ever again; so when your name flashed on his phone with a text message, e had to blink a few times, to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, but it was real. 

He considered waking the others, but it was their first night home and they were all fast asleep. 

Johnny was snoring loudly next to him; he was pretty sure only a bucket of cold water would wake him up from the deep sleep he was in. 

John was lying on his back; one arm wrapped around Kyle who was lying on his chest, light snores leaving both of them. 

So much had been happening over the last few days; he wanted to let them rest. 

Especially seeing as you had specified in your message that you only wanted to talk to him. 

They’d have questions, wonder why they hadn’t been messaged and he had…of course he had suspicions as to why that was, but it wouldn’t be fair on them to tell them something he wasn’t sure was true. 

He could tell them everything when he came back. 

He wondered if Graves was there; if this was all a setup but that thought soon fell from his thoughts, this was his personal number. 

Not just anyone had it.

Only the people he cared about. 

And Graves certainly wasn’t one of those people; so unless he’d got it out of you somehow, Simon was certain the person that had messaged him, was you. 

He quickly got dressed, throwing on the black t-shirt and black jeans that he’d bunched up and thrown on the chair near the bed; and made his way out of the house. 

~~~~~

You saw the headlights of a car shining through the curtains in your living room; an unwelcome wave of anxiety washing over you as you rose to your feet. 

You were going to be alone with Simon in your house….it was only now that the thought dawned on you of how bad this would look if Phillip came home. 

‘What are you doing?’ You questioned yourself; like there was another person inside your head who was going to give you an answer. 

You could just not answer the door. 

Send Simon a message saying that you’ve changed your mind.

You could just believe your fiance. 

A knock at the door pulled you from the thoughts racing through your head and before your mind had even fully caught up with your actions, you were opening the door, letting Simon in. 

“Do you..uh want a tea?” You offered; trying to act like this situation was normal, in an attempt to try and ease your own anxiety. 

Simon raised an eyebrow, from where he stood in the hallway, “Depends? You gonna give me that berry infused shit again?”

You couldn’t help but snort at his words, “No,”

“Then yes,”

A few quiet moments passed as you both made your way into the kitchen and you made a tea for him, exactly how you remembered him liking it and a coffee for you

“Here you go,” you said, handing over the cup to Simon, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over you as you did so. 

You remembered the quiet mornings or extremely late evenings you two would share when he came back from a mission. 

“Thanks,” he replied, the two of you falling back into a familiar and comfortable silence. 

Both of you trying to work out what to say.

“What did he say? Simon asked, breaking the silence.

“That you’re twisting the story,” you began, looking down at your tea, avoiding his gaze, “Said that things only started going bad after you and Johnny got hostile, that you killed his men….that you tried to kill him.”

Too many images of people you loved lying dead on the ground filled your mind. 

Phillip. 

Johnny…

Simon…..

“Is it true?”

“We did kill his men and we did try to kill him, yeah, and we’d do it again,” Simon confirmed, honestly, taking a sip of his tea before placing it down on the counter next to him, “But we only started getting hostile after he betrayed us and detained people we were working with from another team.”

“He had his orders,” you repeated John's words from earlier, your eyes meeting his. 

Phillip was a soldier, he followed orders, that’s his job.

A scoff fell from Simon’s lips, “From another man who betrayed us,”

You wanted to ask him what he meant; find out what other man had betrayed them. 

But you knew that there were some things that Simon couldn’t talk about, that none of them could talk about and you knew that based on the look in his eyes, that he could say no more than that. 

“Do you believe him?”

His question making the ring on your finger feel heavier than it did earlier, you set your tea down on the counter next to you.

“I should,” you whispered, fiddling with the ring on your finger, “I shouldn’t even be having this conversation with you.”

“Why are you?” Simon questioned, genuinely curious about why you were here; unable to stop his heart from feeling a flicker of hope. 

Hope that you weren’t going to go through with the wedding. 

Hope that somehow, someway, you could come back to them….

He could see how conflicted you were, could see it in your eyes and the dark circles that were under them. 

But he could also see it in your demeanour, nervous, worried, confused, like your mind was trying to process a million and one things at once.

“There are just certain things that are making me doubt him…” your started, with a sigh, leaning back against the kitchen counter “he knew you were my exes, but I’d never told him about our relationship, he said Y/f/n told him…which I can’t really imagine.” 

You took a deep breath before continuing, “He also couldn’t give me a straight answer about what happened,”

“Does that not answer your question?”

“No,” you answered quickly, because as much as you had your doubts, his whole story wasn’t a lie, Simon and Johnny did kill Phillips' men, and they did try to kill him too.

That was a truth that Simon had already confirmed. 

A truth that you couldn’t help but feel was purposefully left out of their original explanation of what happened in Mexico.

You love Phillip; you had to at least give him some benefit of the doubt. 

“I love him, Si, I can’t just turn that off.”

Part of you wished that you could. 

That you could just close your eyes, snap your fingers and shut off your feelings. 

Your feelings for Phillip and the feelings that were still lingering in your heart for not only the man in front of you, but for all of the others too. 

“We wouldn’t lie to you, love, not after everything we put you through,” Simon answered softly; and you were unable to call him out on the nickname he used for you, just like you had been earlier in the evening when he said it. 

You don’t know why you didn’t tell him to not call you that, when you were so quick to correct John when he called you sweetheart. 

Maybe it was simply because John was the one who broke up with you; his words, his voice, that replayed in your mind the days, weeks, months after the breakup. 

Whereas Simon; Simon just stood there, like Johnny, like Kyle not saying a single word, just watching. 

“So I should just blindly believe you guys over him?” Your reply to his words was harsher than you wanted; but your mind and heart were just at a loss of who to believe. 

And as much as you doubted Phillip; the man in front of you, as well as your other exes, had more of a reason to lie to you.

“Why should I believe the people that broke up with me without a single tangible reason over the man that loves me?”

The sting of your breakup was raw in your voice as you looked at Simon; he pushed away from the counter he'd been leaning against and walked directly to you. 

“We love you,”

His words cut through your heart like a knife, winding you in a way you didn’t expect. 

In a way you remembered dreaming about hearing days after John ended things with you; in a way that made your heart ache now.

“You don’t get to do that, Si,”your words weren’t angry now, just sad, hurt.

“You wanted the truth didn’t you, that’s why I’m here, to give you the truth you want,”  

So you dared to ask a question that had plagued your mind for so long, hoping that Simon would continue to tell the truth. 

“Why did John end things?”

Simon was silent for a few moments, a few moments that felt like an eternity before finally saying, “He was worried people were gonna try to use you to hurt us.”

He was closer to you now, closer than he was upon his previous visit.

“What?” The disbelief was clear in your voice; his words not giving you the closure you sought, but simply adding to an already overwhelming confusion growing in your mind, “What people?”

“I can’t tell you anything else…” his voice was low as he raised his hand to your face, his hand hovering just inches away from your cheek as he waited for you to move. 

But you didn’t. 

Couldn’t. 

Your mind was too busy processing his confession. 

“But we never stopped lovin’ you, Y/n, not for a single second,” he continued, allowing his hand to touch your cheek delicately, as though you were of glass and he was scared you might break, “Leaving you was one of the hardest things we’ve been through, which, considering what we do for a livin’ is pretty a fucked up thing to say, but it’s the truth,”

You were in complete shock. 

His words. 

His confessions. 

His touch; a feeling that until now, you had no idea you’d even missed.

“Si-” 

You realised how close he was to you now; closer than you should’ve let him be. 

Simon knew he was close to crossing a line he shouldn’t; a line that he couldn’t come back from. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss you, he did, badly. 

But he couldn’t do that to Johnny, John or Kyle, and he couldn’t do that to you. 

He knew you were already confused on what to believe, but now you had the truth. 

Well, as much truth as he could give you. 

You knew the most important truth, that they still loved you. 

You needed time. 

Time to process everything. 

“I should go,” he said softly, but he didn’t move an inch. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, your eyes gazing up his his, unable to not notice how quick your heart was racing inside your chest, “you should,”

He nodded at your words, turning around and grabbing his cup from the counter.

He quickly drank his tea and walked back over to you, placing his empty cup in the sink behind you.

“Thanks for the tea, love,” he breathed, placing a featherlight kiss on your cheek as he leaned past you, “We’ll be home for a few days, if you need us,”

That was all he said before he walked out of the kitchen and left your house.

You raised your hand, your fingers ghosting over your cheek where Simon’s lips had been moments before. 

He’d kissed your cheek. 

And you’d let him. 

You’d just let your ex kiss you on the cheek…

Simon’s confession shouldn’t have changed anything. 

Shouldn’t have changed how you felt. 

You love Phillip.  

But now, knowing that all this time that they’d done what they did to protect you….how could it not change things in some capacity. 

How could it not make you question things? 

They’d never stopped loving you. 

Simon’s admission made you question things about yourself.

Like if you really had ever stopped loving those men; or if you’d simply closed your heart and persuaded yourself out of loving them because you believed they no longer loved you. 

~~~~~~

Phillip hadn’t gone far; he was parked just down the road from the house; and it was a good thing too, otherwise he would’ve been noticed by the late night visitor you had. 

Simon Riley. 

Simon's visit confirmed what he was afraid of; that he was losing you. 

Maybe if the 141 knew the danger they were putting you in they would leave you alone; just like they were meant to. 

That’s what he’d been told when he took this mission...

All he had to do was marry you to hurt the 141 in a way that didn’t involve anyone getting physically hurt. 

But now they were poisoning you against; making you confront him about things you didn’t need to know the truth about. 

He saw the doubt growing in your eyes when he spoke to you.

Lying about Y/f/n telling him about your exes bought him some time; he thought you might believe that they could do that, knowing how much they hated your exes.

But given Simons visit, that plan clearly hadn’t worked. 

Meaning that he had to start thinking about what happened if you called off this wedding. 

What he had to do to you if you called off this wedding. 

That was a thought he hadn’t thought of in a while; there’d been no need to, up until a few days ago you were blissfully unaware of his connection to your exes, you were simply excited about planning the wedding. 

Phillip noticed his phone flash with a call from an unknown number; unknown to his phone, but he knew who was calling him.

It was the same person he’d messaged the moment he’d left the house after the argument you and he had had. 

“What’s happening, Graves?” An all too familiar voice questioned through the phone. 

“They found out, they’re trying to turn her against me,” he summarised simply; watching as Simon’s car pulled away from the house he shared with you. 

“Is it working?”

“Yes,” Phillip answered; knowing what his answer meant; but he couldn’t lie; it would only make things worse if he lied. 

“If this wedding doesn’t happen, you know what happens to her,” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. 

“Yes,” Phillip repeated; though his voice was much quieter this time. 

He knew what he’d agreed to when he took this mission on. 

He thought that he’d be able to keep his feelings under control, but he couldn’t. 

He fell for you. 

He'd come to terms with that; knowing that the 141 would probably be too worried about your safety to come anywhere near you again. 

But that hope was now gone. 

You’d seen them; multiple times.

He knew that they were intent on stopping this wedding; whether they crashed it and stopped it themselves or persuaded you to call it off. 

The problem was, when he agreed to this mission, to marry you to hurt the 141; there was an additional clause. 

A clause that if you called off the wedding for whatever reason, he had to find another way to use you to hurt the 141. 

He had to kill you. 

But not before making you suffer; until the point that you were begging for the pain to end. 

“Are you still prepared to do what needs to be done, if that situation arises?”

He wanted to say no. 

But that wasn’t an answer he could give. 

He agreed to this. 

Regardless of his own feelings towards you; you were his mission first. 

“Yes,” Phillip answered again, before the call ended. 

He didn’t want that scenario to happen. 

Taglist:

@mermaniaa @sunrise-willarive @imdeadontheinside786 @asterionex @pinkyyoshi @yaradigital @euriiverse @eternallyvenus @littlejoyfulthings @s-void @rivwritesiguess @lilyalone @salemlovespies @amongthe141 @z-wantstowrite @sleepybarnesbby @maryrhodalouandted @uraeus56 @skipping-throughlife @backalleytimetravel @fruitymoonbeams-blog @alejandro-vargass-wife @moon-on-the-crest @dasphinxone @iaozuyiling @magicwriterinspo @lilylovesliterature @tabbslouuformer @disasterofastory @famouspoetrydinosaur @yearninglustfully @therapyneeds @beautifuleaglealpaca @mischievousprincess01 @rite-te-suli-kireysi-ite @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @ontopofthefridge @rosecastiello @bookworm1767 @harrys-ravioli @hypertail @hahaifolded

[kikis-writing-service]

Damage Control (Midoriya Izuku x Reader) Chapter 1

Summary:

You've always been there—Izuku's constant, his anchor, so integral to his life he's never actually seen you. Twenty years of devotion rendered invisible by familiarity. Until his divorce forces him to lean on you again, and a casual revelation about your past with Katsuki makes him suddenly, devastatingly aware of everything he's been taking for granted.

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Parts:  1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |  6  |  7  |  8  |  9  | 10 | 11 | 12 |

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Content Warning: This fic contains divorce, alcohol use, toxic behavior while intoxicated, unhealthy relationship patterns, and implied emotional infidelity.

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The buzzing of your phone jerked you awake at 2:37 AM. You didn't need to check the caller ID—only one person would call at this hour, and your hand was already reaching for it before your eyes fully opened.

"Izuku?" You were already sitting up, shoving your feet into slippers. The soft fabric was a small comfort against the early morning chill.

All you could hear was ragged breathing and what sounded suspiciously like muffled sobs. Your fingers tightened on the phone, knuckles white in the darkness.

"I can't—" His voice broke, thick with tears, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. "I don't—I can't—"

"I'm on my way," you said, grabbing the first hoodie you could reach. Your hands moved on autopilot, years of friendship guiding you through the familiar routine. "Your place?"

A wet, hiccuping sob that might have been confirmation. You were already grabbing your keys, mentally calculating the fastest route at this hour. The weight of them in your hand felt heavier than usual.

"Eight minutes," you said quietly. "Maybe seven."

"She's leaving." The words came out broken, raw. "Yui, she—she wants—" Another sob caught in his throat. "A divorce. She wants a divorce."

Your hand froze on the doorknob. For a moment, all you could hear was your own heartbeat and his uneven breathing. The word echoed in your mind—divorce, divorce, divorce—each repetition making it more real.

"Stay on the line?" You were already heading to your car, voice gentler than usual. The night air bit at your cheeks as you rushed outside.

"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I know it's late, I shouldn't have—but I can't stop crying and you always just—you always know what to do—"

"Hey," you cut him off softly. "You don't ever have to apologize. Not to me." The words came automatically, worn smooth by years of repetition in different crises.

You could hear him trying to steady his breathing, the familiar sound of him fighting to regain control. "You're the best, you know that? Always there when I need you."

"Seven minutes," you said, starting the car. The engine rumbled to life, cutting through the pre-dawn silence. "Six if I break a few speed limits."

A wet laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Don't you dare. The PR nightmare if Japan's number one hero's responsible for you getting a ticket at 3 AM—"

"Then keep talking so I'm too distracted to speed." You merged onto the main road, knuckles white on the steering wheel. The streetlights blurred past in streaks of amber. "Want me to stop for those terrible cookies you pretend not to like?"

"The pink ones?" His voice shifted, becoming smaller somehow, more vulnerable. "With the frosting?"

"The objectively worst cookies in existence," you confirmed with forced lightness, already knowing you'd stop for them.

"...yes, please."

You were already pulling into the convenience store parking lot, the fluorescent lights harsh after the darkness of the drive. "Three extra minutes, then. Think you can handle the wait?"

"I'll try," he said, voice shaky. "Everything keeps replaying and I can't—I can't make it stop."

"I know," you said quietly, killing the engine. The sudden silence felt heavy. "I'm getting coffee too. This feels like an all-nighter kind of crisis."

"You're too good to me," he said, sniffling but calmer now.

You let that sit for a moment as you got out of the car. The convenience store glowed like a beacon in the darkness. "Three minutes. Try not to start any international incidents before I get there."

His quiet chuckle was followed by "No promises" as you entered the store. The bell above the door chimed too loudly in the empty space. You quickly grabbed his horrible cookies, coffee, and, after a moment's hesitation, the spicy chips he always stole from you when he thought you weren't looking. Your hand hovered over the tissues before adding two boxes to your basket. Definitely tissues.

As you stood in line to pay, the weight of the moment settled over you. Here you were at 2:45 AM, buying comfort food for Japan's number one hero while he cried on the phone about his failing marriage. The cashier, half-asleep and uninterested, rang up your items without comment. The mundane normalcy of the transaction felt surreal against the backdrop of Izuku's crisis.

You'd learned to live with that particular irony a long time ago—how the most significant moments often played out against the most ordinary settings.

The rest of the drive felt endless, each red light an eternity with his shaky breathing in your ear. You kept him talking about nothing—the weather, your terrible driving, anything to keep him from spiraling deeper into his thoughts.

"Remember that time in high school," you said, turning onto his street, the familiar route bringing back a thousand memories, "when you tried to prove you could eat ten of those cookies at once?"

A wet laugh. "And choked on the frosting? Recovery Girl was so mad."

"'Young man,'" you mimicked your old school nurse's voice, forcing cheer into your tone, "'there are better ways to die in heroics than pink frosting asphyxiation.'"

His laugh was stronger this time, even if it ended in a hiccup. Then, quieter: "Everything felt simpler then."

You pulled into his driveway, killing the engine. Through his living room window, you could see lights still on—he probably hadn't even tried to sleep. The warm glow looked wrong somehow, too normal for what was happening inside. "You want to tell me what happened?"

A shaky exhale. "Can it wait until you're inside? I don't—I don't want to do this over the phone."

"Already here." You grabbed the convenience store bags, juggling your phone and keys. The paper rustled in the quiet night. "Front door?"

"Yeah, I—" You heard movement through the phone, then footsteps. "I'll get it."

The door opened before you could knock, and your carefully maintained composure cracked slightly. His hair had come loose from its usual tie, dark curls falling around his face in disarray. His eyes were red and swollen, tears still tracking down his cheeks, and something about seeing him like this—Japan's number one hero reduced to such raw vulnerability—made your chest ache in ways you couldn't afford to think about.

Before you could think better of it, you stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, convenience store bags still dangling from one hand.

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, wrapping his arms around you with desperate strength. His whole body shook against yours, and you could feel the dampness of his tears soaking through your hoodie. "Did you really bring the cookies?" he mumbled into your shoulder.

"Yup. And tissues," you said, voice slightly muffled by his chest. "Because I know you."

His laugh was watery, but his arms tightened. "Yeah. Yeah, you do."

You stood there in his doorway longer than necessary, letting him hold on as long as he needed. When he finally pulled back, you both moved inside to the living room floor. Izuku's back rested against the couch, you cross-legged beside him. The convenience store bag sat between you both, crackling as you unpacked its contents. Some of his hair had come completely loose from its tie now, dark curls falling into his face as he stared at his hands.

"She said—" His voice cracked. He swallowed, tried again. "She said she can't do this anymore. The waiting. The not knowing if I'll come home. The constant rescheduling of everything because some villain—" He broke off, more tears falling.

You silently passed him the tissues you'd bought, watching as he took them with shaking hands.

"I thought we were okay," he continued after a moment, voice thick. "I mean, I knew things weren't perfect, but I thought... I thought she understood. About the hero work. About why I can't just—" He gestured helplessly at the air. "Why I have to—"

"What happened tonight?" you asked softly. "Why now?"

He let out a shaky breath, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall with the effort of containing another sob. "I missed dinner. Again. We had reservations, nice place downtown. The kind where you need to book weeks in advance." His voice turned bitter. "But there was this hostage situation in Shinjuku, and I couldn't—I couldn't just leave those people—"

"Of course you couldn't." The words came automatically, because you knew him. Had always known him.

"That's what I said. But Yui, she..." His voice wavered, breaking on his wife's name. "She was so calm about it. That's what scared me most. She wasn't even angry. She just looked at me when I finally got home and said 'I can't do this anymore.'"

You watched as he twisted the tissue in his hands, shredding it slowly. His fingers worked methodically, creating a small pile of white fragments in his lap.

"She said she's tired of competing with everyone else's emergencies. That she knows the hero work is important, but she needs—" His breath hitched, and you saw his hands clench. "She needs someone who can put her first sometimes. Who can promise to be there for anniversaries and birthdays and just... regular Tuesday nights."

"And you can't promise that."

"No." The word came out broken, barely audible. "I can't. I tried to explain that I want to, that I'll try harder to balance things, but she said—" More tears fell, and he didn't bother wiping them away this time. "She said she's done trying to build a life with someone who belongs to everyone else."

You wordlessly opened the cookies, placing the package in his lap. The crinkle of plastic felt too loud in the heavy silence. He gave a watery laugh.

"These really are terrible," he said, already reaching for one. Pink crumbs immediately dusted his fingers.

"And yet." You took one yourself, the artificial sweetness coating your tongue.

You both sat in silence for a moment, the only sound his occasional sniffling and the rustle of the cookie package. The familiar rhythm of sharing bad convenience store food felt like an anchor in the storm of his grief.

"I don't know how to fix this," he finally whispered. "I don't know if I can."

"Do you want to?"

He looked up at you, startled. His eyes were still red-rimmed, but there was confusion now mixed with the grief. "What?"

"Fix it," you clarified gently. "Not can you, but do you want to? If fixing it means promising to step back from hero work, to let other heroes handle some calls, to sometimes put your marriage before saving people... is that something you actually want?"

He opened his mouth, closed it. You watched him struggle with the weight of the question.

"Because that's what she's asking for," you continued softly. "Not for you to stop being a hero entirely, but to be less of one. To choose her over others sometimes. To let some people wait while you have dinner with your wife."

"I can't." His voice broke completely. "God, I can't. What kind of person does that make me? That I can't even promise my own wife—"

"It makes you you," you said simply. "The person who will always run toward danger if it means saving someone. The person who can't ignore a cry for help. The person who—" You caught yourself before adding 'I fell in love with.' The words sat heavy on your tongue, unspoken but somehow still present in the room. "The person you've always been."

"And that person can't be married, apparently." His laugh was bitter, so unlike his usual warmth that it made you ache.

"That person can't be married to someone who needs more than you can give while still being true to yourself," you corrected. "Neither of you is wrong, Izuku. You just want different things."

He was quiet for a long moment, absently reaching for another cookie. You watched him chew mechanically, his gaze distant.

"When did you get so wise?"

"Somewhere between the third and fourth time I had to explain to the press why you destroyed a city block to save a cat."

That startled a laugh out of him, even if it was still watery. "That cat was stuck really high up."

"It was a cat, Izuku. They get down eventually."

"It was scared!"

"You broke a billboard."

"The billboard was in the way!"

You smiled, letting him have this moment of normalcy. But after a minute, his face fell again, reality creeping back in.

"My mom's going to be so disappointed."

"In you? Never."

"In me failing at this. At marriage. At—at being normal."

"You've never been normal," you said, keeping your voice gentle. "That's not a bad thing. Some people aren't built for normal lives. They're built for extraordinary ones."

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment you were afraid you'd revealed too much. Your heart beat too fast, too loud, and you hoped he couldn't hear it in the quiet room. But he just reached for another cookie.

"I really thought we could make it work," he said quietly. "That love would be enough."

"Sometimes it isn't." The words felt like they were being torn from your chest. "Sometimes you can love someone completely and still not be right for each other."

Don't I know it, you didn't add. The words sat like stones in your throat.

You both sat in silence for a while, the cookies slowly disappearing between you. The room had grown lighter, dawn creeping in at the edges of the curtains, painting everything in shades of grey.

Finally, he spoke again:

"I can't stop thinking about the press. The headlines." His voice caught slightly. "Everyone finding out that Japan's number one hero can't even keep his marriage together."

Your fingers were already moving across your phone screen, the familiar rhythm of crisis management steadying your hands. This, at least, you knew how to handle. "The press will be the easy part. We control the narrative, get ahead of it."

"How do we even begin to—"

"We tell the truth." You kept your eyes on your notes, not trusting yourself to look up. "A mutual, amicable separation. Two people who care about each other choosing to end things respectfully."

He shifted on the floor beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. The proximity made your skin prickle with awareness you couldn't afford to acknowledge. "And the hero angle?"

"We acknowledge it directly." A strand of your hair fell forward as you typed, and you tucked it back with practiced efficiency. "The unique challenges of hero life, the toll it takes on relationships. People understand that."

"So what's the plan?"

"First, absolute privacy until we're ready. No public appearances together, no social media." Your fingers paused over the screen. "We'll need to talk to Yui, make sure she's comfortable with how we handle this. The press can be... intense."

His shoulders tensed at Yui's name. "She shouldn't have to deal with reporters outside her office."

"She won't." Your voice softened unconsciously. "I can help her prepare, give her some guidelines." You hesitated, watching his hair fall forward as he leaned to see your screen. "There's one more thing."

"What?"

"The hair needs to go."

He looked up, surprise momentarily displacing the shadows under his eyes. "The hair?"

"A change." You kept your tone professional, clinical. "Something visible. When the public sees you, they need to see someone who's moving forward, not stuck in the past."

"But—"

"It's not about aesthetics." You cut him off before he could finish. "It's about giving people a visual marker of transition. New chapter, new look. It helps them process the change along with you."

He was quiet for a long moment, absently running his fingers through the length of his hair. You focused very intently on your phone screen, not watching the way the curls wrapped around his fingers.

"Maybe I deserve whatever they say about me," he said finally, voice low. "I wasn't... I couldn't..."

"Stop." The word came out sharper than intended. You modulated your tone carefully. "You're someone who saves lives. That's not wrong."

"At what cost?"

The question hung between you both, heavy with implications neither was ready to face. You allowed yourself one touch to his shoulder, brief and professionally appropriate. His shirt was soft under your fingers. "At whatever cost you decide is worth it."

He dropped his head back against the couch, exposing the line of his throat. You looked away. "I should have—"

"You were exactly who you are." You shifted slightly, maintaining careful distance. "Someone who runs toward danger when others run away. That's not a flaw."

His smile was tired but real, and something in your chest ached at the familiar sight. "Always full of wisdom, aren't you?"

"I've always been wise. You just never listen." You set your phone aside, suddenly aware of the hour, the exhaustion creeping in. 

"So..." He watched you scroll through your calendar. "What kind of haircut are we thinking?"

You looked up from your phone, studying his profile with careful consideration. The way his curls fell forward, the shape of his face, what would photograph well but still feel authentic to who he was. After a moment's thought, the answer came to you.

"An undercut," you said decisively. "Professional, approachable. Good for your image."

"Yeah?" Something in his voice made you glance up again. He was watching you with an expression you couldn't quite read. "You think it'd look good?"

"It's a practical choice." You returned to your screen. "Makes a statement while staying on brand."

"What would I do without you?" The warmth in his voice felt dangerous. "Seriously," he said softly, your name gentle on his lips, "you're—"

"Just doing my job." You pulled up your media contact list, ignoring how the words tasted like ash. "Now, about the timing—we should wait a week, let the initial shock pass. Maybe some casual photos of you volunteering..."

He reached for another cookie while you outlined the strategy, and you pretended not to notice how his hand shook slightly.

You had a PR crisis to manage. Everything else was irrelevant.

Even if some small, traitorous part of you was already dreading the day you'd have to watch him change.

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It was nearly 4 AM when Izuku finally drifted off, exhaustion and emotional drain winning out over his determination to keep talking. You watched as his head gradually tilted back against the couch, his breathing evening out into the gentle rhythm of sleep.

The silence felt different now, heavier somehow. You waited, counting his breaths, making sure he was truly asleep before carefully gathering the empty cookie packages and coffee cups. Your movements were practiced, quiet—you'd done this before, cleaned up after late-night crisis sessions, though never quite like this.

When you returned with a blanket from the hall closet, you paused, allowing yourself one unguarded moment to really look at him.

His face was softer in sleep, the harsh lines of grief temporarily smoothed away. Tear tracks still marked his cheeks, catching the dim light. Dark curls fell across his forehead in a way that made your fingers itch to brush them back. You'd spent years carefully not letting yourself stare like this, maintaining professional distance even in private moments. But now...

Before you could stop yourself, you pulled out your phone. Just one photo, you told yourself. To remember his hair before the inevitable PR makeover. That's all it was.

The lie felt hollow even as you carefully adjusted the angle, capturing the way moonlight played across his features, how his curls caught the dim light. You'd delete it later, you promised yourself. Probably.

After gently draping the blanket over him, you settled into the armchair across the room, already pulling up your messaging app.

You: Anyone awake?

You didn't really expect a response at this hour, but typing into the group chat felt better than sitting alone with your thoughts.

You: Izuku just called me crying. Yui asked for a divorce.  You: He's asleep now but  You: I don't know what I'm doing

You stared at the messages for a moment before adding:

You: I took a picture of him sleeping because I'm apparently that pathetic  You: Going to delete it  You: Eventually

Without your laptop, you were limited in what work you could do from your phone. You'd have to wait until morning to start the real crisis management, but you could at least make notes. After a moment's hesitation, you moved to Izuku's desk where his laptop sat. The password - AllMight1234 - was so predictable you almost laughed. Some things never changed.

You spent the next hour drafting potential press statements, occasionally glancing up to check on him. 

Around 5 AM, your phone finally buzzed.

Katsuki: jfc are you still there? You: Yeah  You: He fell asleep mid-crisis planning  You: I should probably leave but I don't want him waking up alone Ochaco: Oh no, is he okay??? You: He's...processing  You: I'm fine before you ask Katsuki: its 5am you disaster  Katsuki: stop working Ochaco: When's the last time you slept? You: I was actually sleeping when he called  You: But now I'm wired on convenience store coffee  You: And there's so much to plan Katsuki: show us the picture you took  Katsuki: you know you want to

You glanced at Izuku's sleeping form before responding:

You: No. Ochaco: Come on, share!  Ochaco: You know we won't judge

After another moment's hesitation, you uploaded the photo to the chat.

Ochaco: Those CURLS  Ochaco: He looks so peaceful Katsuki: you're so fucking gone for him  Katsuki: it's embarrassing You: I should delete it Katsuki: but you won't You: ...  You: I might  You: Eventually Ochaco: Do you want me to come over?  Ochaco: Make it less awkward You: Maybe  You: Let me see how he is when he wakes up  You: He might need space  You: Or he might need people  You: I just don't want him to feel alone Katsuki: you're overthinking again

On the couch, Izuku shifted slightly in his sleep, and you held your breath until he settled again.

You: He's dreaming  You: Should I wake him if it seems like a nightmare? Katsuki: i stg  Katsuki: you're hopeless Ochaco: Just stay with him  Ochaco: He needs you right now  Ochaco: Even if you won't admit why he called you first

The observation sat there, stark and honest. You stared at it, throat tight.

You: I have work to do Katsuki: running away again? Ochaco: We've got your back  Ochaco: Both of you get some rest, okay? Katsuki: yeah what she said  Katsuki: but with more swearing

Despite everything, you found yourself smiling slightly at your phone. You looked up at Izuku again, peaceful in sleep, completely unaware of the conversation happening about him.

You: I'm staying  You: He shouldn't wake up alone  You: Not today Katsuki: yeah  Katsuki: we know

You set your phone aside and pulled his laptop closer, determination settling over you. You had press releases to draft, media strategies to plan, a whole narrative to construct. That's what you were good at—taking chaos and making it manageable, turning mess into order.

Everything else—the way moonlight played across his features, the photo burning a hole in your phone, the weight of unspoken feelings—that could wait.

It had waited this long, after all.

[redgoldsparks]

TAEKWONDO: A fanzine by Maia Kobabe

insta / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my books / print store / bluesky

Full zine transcript below the cut.

Page 1

In 2017, I started working from home full time. I loved having more time to focus on my writing & art but soon realized I rarely left a 100 foot radius of my home office. 

Shrimp posture of someone who enjoys typing in their lap

Maia: I need to move my body or I’ll calcify!

I’d noticed a martial arts gym not far from my house. I couldn’t tell what type of martial art, but I was interested. I did a year of Judo in college, but wanted to try a new sport.

Page 2

Finally, I worked up the motivation to give them a call.

Maia: Hello, I was wondering if you had classes for beginning adults. 

Teacher: We do! Three days a week. 

Teacher: Come to a class for free to see if you like it. 

Maia: Thanks, I will. Um- what sport is it? 

Teacher: Taekwondo! 

That first day I felt like I’d completely forgotten how to exercise. Jogging around the small gym 20 times almost ended me. 

Maia: I shouldn’t have eaten before class! 

(Only one not wearing a uniform.) 

That plus a basic warmup of pushups, jumping jacks, squats, and kick drills left me so sore I could barely get out of bed the next day. 

Maia: My whole body hurts! 

Page 3

But right away there were things I loved about Taekwondo at this gym.

Bowing before stepping onto the mat. 

Everyone wearing the same gender neutral uniform. 

A moment of mediation at the start of class. “I am here.” 

Kids playing at the side of the gym while their parents exercise. 

Kick drills! 

And forms! I love learning forms.

Page 4

Poomsae, or forms, are choreographed patterns of attacks & defenses. There are 8 forms for color belts to learn before reaching black belt with increasing levels of difficulty. 

First few steps of taeguk il-jang, form one. Prepare low block, pull fist back, step & block. Snap wrist with block. Prepare for middle punch, palm facing up. Middle punch, sternum height. Palm facing down.

Form one is made of very basic movements & yet it is infinitely perfectible with greater degrees of precision & skill.

Maia: My fist should brush past my belt before my hand twists… shoulder stay square. 

Maia: High block starts with palm facing up and ends with palm facing out… block should be two fists above my forehead. 

Page 5 

During the first four years I studied taekwondo my hometown experienced three devastating wildfires. I sold, wrote, published, & toured my first book. 

But no matter how much I have in my mind, taekwondo forces me to be in my body. 

And in the moment. 

Present. 

I remember the first time I left the gym & realized: "Wow, I didn’t think about work for an hour." 

Page 6 

When the pandemic hit, my taekwondo classes continued on zoom. 

Practicing kicks over & over in my living room was one of the main things that kept me sane. 

Page 7

I’m heading into my 8th year of studying taekwondo. Wow!

This is the longest I have ever stuck with one sport in my life. 

This year I hope to take my black belt test, a goal that felt completely unattainable when I started. 

I love the physicality of this sport & I’m definitely in better shape than when I started.

But what kept me coming back is how good it is for my brain.

When I leave class, my mind feels so much calmer & more peaceful. 

As we head into an increasingly uncertain future, I’m more & more grateful for this practice. 

Page 8

I love the comforting rituals of taekwondo. 

Lining up in color belt order.

Doing the same basic warmup everyday.

But taekwondo also pushes me outside my comfort zone, especially in tournament season. 

Maia: $200 to register for 2 events? Yikes!

They are expensive; 

Maia: Check-in starts at 8am

start very early; 

Maia: Here we go…

& the closest one is over 100 miles away. 

Maia: I spent hundreds of dollars & I am driving hundreds of miles to go fight a stranger in a high school gym. Whyyyyyy am I doing this? 

Page 9

At my first tournament, as a green belt, they couldn’t find anyone in my level for me to spar. They paired me with a red advanced belt (one level below black). 

She kicked my butt. I fell down multiple times & got a mild black eye from a kick in the face. I lost by 26 to 6.  

As I limped out of the ring, I remember thinking: 

Maia: "That really scared and intimidated me… but I did it anyway. And I lived!" 

Page 10

You should try Taekwondo if: 

You’re interested in a dynamic sport that includes cardio, stretching, endurance training, speed, flexibility, jumping, kicking, & yelling 

You like the formality of martial arts (wearing a uniform, bowing, opening & closing rituals)

You want a sport that is gentle on the hands- everyday is leg day in taekwondo (good for artists!)

You are interested in learning forms & techniques that require memory & patience. 

You want to run around & have a good time in an exercise class! It’s fun! 

Thank you so much to my instructors & the classmates who trained alongside me for all these years. And thank you for reading. 

감사합니다

Maia Kobabe is the author of the award-winning graphic memoir, Gender Queer, the most challenged book in the United States in 2021, 2022 and 2023. Maia’s short comics and writing have been published in The New Yorker, The Nib, The Washington Post, NPR, Time Magazine and in many print anthologies. 

This zine was written & drawn on the traditional lands of the Coast Miwok & Southern Pomo people, where I am grateful to live and work. 

[glowettee]

hi there! im a fan of your page 💕

can you give me the best studying techniques?

hi angel!! @mythicalmarion tysm for asking about study techniques 🤍 i'm so excited to share my secret methods that helped me maintain perfect grades while still having a dreamy lifestyle + time for self-care!! and thank you for being a fan of my blog, it means everything to me. <3

~ ♡ my non-basic study secrets that actually work ♡ ~

(don't mind the number formatting)

the neural bridging technique this is literally my favorite discovery!! instead of traditional note-taking, i create what i call "neural bridges" between different subjects. for example, when studying both literature + history, i connect historical events with the literature written during that time. i use a special notebook divided into sections where each page has two columns - one for each subject. the connections help you understand both subjects deeper + create stronger memory patterns!!

here's how i do it:

example:

left column: historical event

right column: literary connection

middle: draw connecting lines + add small insights

bottom: write how they influenced each other

the shadow expert method this changed everything for me!! i pretend i'm going to be interviewed as an expert on the topic i'm studying. i create potential interview questions + prepare detailed answers. but here's the twist - i record myself answering these questions in three different ways:

basic explanation (like i'm talking to a friend)

detailed analysis (like i'm teaching a class)

complex discussion (like i'm at a conference)

this forces you to understand the topic from multiple angles + helps you explain concepts in different ways!!

the reverse engineering study system instead of starting with the basics, i begin with the most complex example i can find and work backwards to understand the fundamentals. for example, in calculus, i start with a complicated equation + break it down into smaller parts until i reach the basic concepts.

my process looks like:

find the hardest example in the textbook

list every concept needed to understand it

create a concept map working backwards

study each component separately

rebuild the complex example step by step

the sensory anchoring technique this is seriously game-changing!! i associate different types of information with specific sensory experiences:

theoretical concepts - study while standing

factual information - sitting at my desk

problem-solving - walking slowly

memorization - gentle swaying

review - lying down

your body literally creates muscle memory associated with different types of learning!!

the metacognition mapping strategy i created this method where i track my understanding using what i call "clarity scores":

level 1: can recognize it

level 2: can explain it simply

level 3: can teach it

level 4: can apply it to new situations

level 5: can connect it to other topics

i keep a spreadsheet tracking my clarity levels for each topic + focus my study time on moving everything to level 5!!

the information architecture method instead of linear notes, i create what i call "knowledge buildings":

foundation: basic principles

first floor: key concepts

second floor: applications

top floor: advanced ideas

roof: real-world connections

each "floor" must be solid before moving up + i review from top to bottom weekly!!

the cognitive stamina training this is my absolute secret weapon!! i use a special interval system based on brain wave patterns:

32 minutes of focused study

8 minutes of active recall

16 minutes of teaching the material to my plushies

4 minutes of complete rest

the specific timing helps maintain peak mental performance + prevents study fatigue!!

the synthesis spiral evolution this method literally transformed how i retain information:

create main concept spirals

add branch spirals for subtopics

connect related concepts with colored lines

review by tracing the spiral paths

add new connections each study session

your notes evolve into a beautiful web of knowledge that grows with your understanding!!

these methods might seem different from typical study advice, but they're based on how our brains actually process + store information!! i developed these through lots of research + personal experimentation, and they've helped me maintain perfect grades while still having time for self-care, hobbies + fun!!

sending you the biggest hug + all my good study vibes!! remember that effective studying is about working with your brain, not against it <3

p.s. if you try any of these methods, please let me know how they work for you!! i love hearing about your study journeys!!

xoxo, mindy 🤍

glowettee hotline is still open, drop your dilemmas before the next advice post 💌: https://bit.ly/glowetteehotline

[armory-rasa]

COUCH POUCH!! Free Pattern & Tutorial

...called thus because they use upholstery-weight leather for the bag body, that in my case was in fact skinned off a couch. 🤣 Turns out they are relatively quick and easy to make, so I tidied up the pattern for printing and took pictures to document the process when I made another five of them.

First off, print your pattern, 100% scale:

The bag shape was a modified version of the pattern I used for the Morpheus sandbag, but sized to fit in the roughly 11" squares that my couch skin came in. It makes a bag that sits very well on a tabletop, thanks to the flat base.

Though it turned out to not be the most efficient use of material, because that plus-shaped pattern tessellates well, if you're cutting them out of a full hide, but makes a lot of waste when you're cutting them out of squares of material. A more efficient design would have a half-rounded front and back, and a gusset between them, like so:

Ah well. It's not like I have any shortage of couch skin, though for the next round I'm going to experiment with a more efficient pattern.

First step, trace and cut out the bag body from your chrome-tan leather:

Like I said, this was upholstery leather, but anything that's flexible and ~1.5 mm thick will do.

The flap and front need to be a stiffer leather though -- I used 7 oz latigo, but veg-tan would work equally well. (And then you could ✨tool it!✨)

Cut them out, and then use the pattern to mark where your holes are going to be. Mark the holes on your bag body too:

The latigo pieces get hand-stitched to the bag body, so I used a stitching groover to carve out little channels for the thread -- it's not strictly necessary, but it makes your stitches lay a lot more neatly:

Punch the holes shown below:

I used a ~5 mm hole punch for those, and a 1.5" slot punch for the belt loops. Some of the holes on the front piece you're not punching yet, because they need to go through both layers.

I put a dab of contact cement on the pieces (circled in white) to help hold them in place when I go to punch the stitching holes:

(Make sure you're not putting glue between the belt loops)

Wait fifteen minutes for the contact cement to dry until tacky, and then line up the holes and the edges and press the pieces together:

Punch stitching holes:

Saddle-stitch both pieces in place (takes 28" of thread per):

Now you can punch these holes:

(I used a slightly smaller hole punch than for the others, but it doesn't really matter.)

Now press the right sides of the leather together and sew up the seams from the inside:

A regular sewing machine should be able to handle this, though you will need thicker thread, a heavy-duty leather-sewing needle, and a walking foot attachment. (If you don't have a walking foot attachment, it is SO WORTH getting one, even if you don't expect to sew much leather. Seriously, I use it for everything -- once you go walking foot, you don't go back. 💀) Because you can't pin leather without leaving permanent holes in it, tiny binder clips can be helpful for keeping your material lined up.

What they look like when you're finished sewing:

Cut 19" of lacing for the drawstring, and 11" of lacing for the toggle:

I use the 1/8" EcoSoft lace from Tandy, I think it's stronger than real leather would be at that thickness. The only important factor here is that you need something with a bit of texture and friction -- a silk cord isn't going to stay closed, it's going to slip open.

MANY BAGS.

For these I used a wooden toggle -- cut another 8" of lacing, looped it through the toggle twice, and then made a tight square knot on the back:

But another option is putting a concho or a large button on the flap. The bag I copied this design from, in fact, uses a concho toggle:

Thread some beads on the laces to keep the ends from getting lost, and you are DONE! 😁

Happy Bagging!

[cherilightt]

keep your thoughts in check ⋆ ౨ৎ˚⟡˖

most of us have a so called 'manifestation routine', whether it be a subliminal playlist you're consistent with; or maybe you've been doing sats, maybe you just affirm for 5 minutes in the morning whenever you wake up

then how come you're not getting any noticeable results?

did you know the average human has 60,000 thoughts per day? well have you ever stopped to think how many of those 60,000 thoughts actually resonate with your desires, and how many of those are against them?

you might spend a solid 10 minutes everyday affirming for your desired face but you spend the rest 15 hours 50 minutes of being awake (considering you sleep 8 hours per day) sulking over your current face, criticising your appearance.

you're still thinking from that state. the state where you don't have your desired face.

the human brain loves patterns and familiarity, whenever you try to feed it with something new after it's believed one thing for a span of years; doubts arise. and usually when you're not doing your manifestation routine, your mind wanders back to that old state.

that's why you need to be aware. you need to stop being passive and letting your brain go back to your default old state. stop thinking the same old thoughts you used to, if you want to manifest something new. keep your thoughts in check.

make sure you're feeding your mind the thoughts you actually want manifesting, this is called a mental diet.

how to keep a mental diet?

☆ keep a check of what goes inside your head, making sure not to feed your mind thoughts that don't serve you any purpose.

☆ immediately flip the negative thoughts if they pop up, any thought that doesn't resonate with your desired reality should be discarded as false.

☆ the moment you feel you're slipping back to your old state of mind, affirm. because you can't think one thing and say the other. affirming will distract your attention from the negative to the positive.

just know that one negative or intrusive thought doesn't affect you or hold power over you, you get to decide how powerful it is because you're the one with the power.

keep reminding yourself of the power you hold.

you are the operant creator and your thoughts MATTER.

xoxo, chéri logging off