#BUT ALSO REMEMBER EVERY BERRY IS ALSO A FRUIT

[iiryoku]

HEY MIMI DID YOU KNOW YOUR A FUCKING BERRY BECAUSE YOU HAVE SEEDS INSIDE OF YOU YEAAAAAAAAAH BITCH YOUR A BERRY TOO

Did you know, that a watermelon is also a berry???

[abbyshands]

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ YOU GOT ME, DARLING 𓄀 part 1

“i- i meant, like, heat-wise. it’s in the, um, 80’s right now,” abby replies awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck like it’ll settle the nerves having a field day in her veins. “but you are pretty hot,” she mumbles under her breath.

series masterlist (coming soon ...) | series document | READ THIS | DAILY CLICK | PALESTINE LINKS | main masterlist

𓄀 pairing: cowgirl!reader x city girl!abby anderson

𓄀 includes: masc!reader, tall!reader, reader has tattoos and piercings and is implied to be muscular, established friendships (abby x ellie, dina, and manny), reader has an established backstory, modern setting, flirting, reader has an accent so read as such!

𓄀 summary: you decide to represent your business, cowboy classics, at seattle’s annual farmer’s market, unaware that the universe would send an angel with blonde hair and blue eyes to your feet.

𓄀 notes: so i had a lil’ idea and i ran with it so i present this lil’ series i’m gonna start <3 i have lots of ideas for it so be prepared for it to be a lil’ all over the place if i’m being honest. also, eventual smut of course! please comment or let me know if you want to be tagged. alright now, enjoy! ♡

𓄀 wc: 3k

every year, seattle hosts a farmer’s market that lasts a week, the hottest week of the summer. for the last, dear god, however many years you had lived here, you had never come to it, much less represented your business at it. but this year, you figured, why not? all your other friends were pooling into the heart of the city to attend the yearly market, so why couldn’t you?

you weren’t the biggest fan of seattle when you first arrived here. it was a stark contrast from where you grew up, a little prairie in rural texas. you remember shuddering each time you passed by a building the first week you lived here, wondering, where the hell are the fields?

seattle was just so different. rainy, cold, urbanized down to the last letter. you had moved here from texas when you were only 18 by your parents’ wishes for you to go to a college, get a degree, and get a damn job. your parents had been hard on you growing up for reasons unbeknownst to you, not like it mattered. not then, and not now.

after studying in college for two years and narrowly managing to get an associate’s degree in business, you decided to not pursue your bachelor’s, instead getting right to work. you earned yourself a job as a construction worker, the closest you had gotten to home since moving to seattle two years prior. the hot days when the sun came out in the summer, the rigorous work outside, the dirt on your skin by evening to show for a job well done. it was all you could have asked for and more.

when you managed to get yourself afloat, considerably well off, you ventured right outside urban seattle and scored yourself a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, far up a mile long dirt road. it was perfect, reminiscent of that old texas charm you had missed so dearly since leaving it. and then, when you finally settled down, you purchased a place bordering the urban and rural areas of seattle to make your own, where you used your associate’s degree and your casual texan charm to open a business.

cowboy classics read the sign hanging off your stand as the hot summer sun beat down on your back, shining down on your skin, which glistened with sweat as you set up your stand. thank god your stall had a roof, or else you’d be a goner for the next few hours that you’d be at the farmer’s market.

the market was crowded that morning, and more people were drawn to you and your stand than you were ready for. you couldn’t say you weren’t flattered, especially when you made a solid hundred dollars in the first hour and pretty girls were all but falling at your feet to buy your merchandise.

cowboy classics consisted of several products right off your farm. fruits like apples, berries, and melons, veggies like corn and peppers, and herbs of all kinds, such as cilantro, parsley, and rosemary, which you had grown yourself. dairy products, like fresh milk in classic milk jugs, regular and strawberry, cream cheese, and smooth butter. jams and jellies that the folks back home and your friends here in seattle could die for. and last but not least, handmade soaps and candles.

one would wonder why your shop was called cowboy classics when you were clearly a girl, if it weren’t for your heavily masculine energy. it seemed to radiate off of you, like the very sunrays shining down on your skin. from your voice, deep and low, thick with a rural texan accent, to your attire, a flannel and jeans, a belt with a big buckle and boots, and you couldn’t miss the cowboy hat, to even your scent, musky cologne mixed with the smells of your farm and all the products you produced from it.

now, city girl abby anderson couldn’t be further from a cowgirl. having grown up in the heart of seattle, washington, abigail “abby” anderson works as a personal trainer at a gym a few blocks away from her house. as tall, big, and muscular as she is, she couldn’t be more awkward. she wasn’t clueless, she just preferred her bed to being so human as to socialize. she was a little shy, but complex in nature, her sweet blue eyes easy to get lost in, her blonde hair shaping her freckled face to flawlessness.

the yearly market was always fun for abby. her dad would always take a few days off his shifts at the hospital just to bring abby to the market, unable to resist the way her eyes lit up when they settled on all the wonders the place had to offer, at least for a little girl. now that she was older, she had grown to adore it even more. it was all so raw, so natural, and the products at the market were inexpensive and could actually be of use to her.

abby was walking through the market with a few friends beside her. her best friend, ellie, her girlfriend, dina, and one of abby’s closest friends, manny. manny liked the market as much as abby did, though it was less for what you could buy and more for what you could take home with you. in other words, the pretty girls. ellie previously just liked to accompany abby to the market, but since having met dina, she came more for dina’s love of it.

“shit, it’s hot,” abby said, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead for the third time in the last ten minutes. her pale forehead glistened with sweat, little blonde baby hairs plastered to it.

ellie chuckled, nodding. “this heat wave’s no fucking joke. we’re going to be liquid by the time we get out of here.”

“ooh, look at that! those shirts are so cute!” dina suddenly exclaimed, causing the group’s attention to snap to a stand of hand knitted shirts and randomized accessories, like scarves, purses, and gloves. before ellie could even respond, dina was dragging her by the hand to the stand.

abby chuckled, having grown quite used to dina’s impulsive nature. when she turned to her side to look to manny, she realized that he had also wandered off, easily finding him chatting up a pretty girl at a different stall. abby rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the amusement off her face. those were her friends for you. looks like she was on her own.

if she was being honest, she preferred to walk through the market alone, at least when she was actually looking through the vendors for good finds. it was reminiscent of her childhood, this little piece of seattle that gave the city girl a taste of what it was like on the other side of urban, even if it only lasted a week.

abby was walking through the market, having yet to find a stand that piqued her interest, when one poked out at her. curiously, she squinted to get a better look at it, her feet approaching it of their own accord. the owner’s back was turned, but abby could tell that it was a woman, one that was a sight for sore eyes, at that. but what interested her, too, was the variety of products at the stand, produce and dairy products, jams and jellies, paired with what looked like soaps and candles.

it was only when she turned around that abby’s attention was hers, and hers only.

who the hell is that?

the closer abby got to your stand, the more intrigued by you she was. you had a face that could bring anybody to their knees, clad in a flannel and dark blue jeans, a brown belt with a huge buckle, and jesus christ, a black cowboy hat to top it off. it was like she had looked one way and been in seattle, washington, than turned and teleported into rural texas. she couldn’t help the way her eyes raked over your body, taking you in in all your glory, tattooed arms and hands with a prominent tattoo on your neck and collarbone, several silver piercings in your ears.

alright, she’d bite.

and she hoped you would, too.

your interest was piqued when you saw her walking up to your stand. the girls who had approached you thus far were pretty, but this girl was a downright stunner. blonde hair tied back in a braid that fell over her right shoulder, exposed by her black tank top, paired with her brown cargo shorts. she had these pretty blue eyes, too, pretty blue eyes that sparkled like sweet diamonds in the burning seattle sun, accompanying the prominent freckles on her nose and cheeks. 

she was muscular like you, only it peaked out in her arms, hands, and thighs, whereas your muscle presented itself in your broad shoulders and chest. you can’t wipe the grin off your face as she approaches your stand, and you set down the soaps you’d just picked up from a crate behind you on the stand, seeing as you had just sold out for the second time since arriving at the market.

“hey there,” you smile at her, and shit, even your voice is alluring, and it matches your face just right. dark, deep and low and thick with rasp, a texan accent to it that was impossible to miss. it was embarrassing for the blonde, just how fast her face heated up, that is, and she gave you a shy smile in response, along with a little awkward wave. “see somethin’ ya’like, baby?”

yes, you.

abby cleared her throat, nodding, trying so hard to ignore the way her stomach flips at the way that last word slipped off your lips. “uh, yeah. your stand is really cool,” abby said, a rosy blush covering her cheeks and nose as she inspected the soaps you had just set down on the counter. before you can respond to her compliment, she asks, “did you make these yourself?”

you nod to confirm, looking down at the soaps she was referring to. “sure did. handmade all day. the folks here quite like ‘em. sold out twice,” you said, leaning over the counter, eyes settled on the blonde girl before you. abby’s battling to ignore how nervous she feels at being in the presence of such a handsome woman, heavily aware of how much taller than her you are.

and she never meets girls who are taller than her.

abby takes one of the soaps into her hands. pine, her scent of choice in cologne, hair products, air freshener, candles, whatever it may be. she would marry the damn scent if she could. reading the label, she realized the scent of the little handmade bar of soap was a mix of pine and vanilla, and she lifted it to her nose to give it a smell, earning the blonde’s instant approval. “well, i can see why. this smells great,” abby commented.

“i’m glad’ya like it,” you chuckle as your tongue darts out to lick your lips, your eyes raking over the girl for the millionth time since she had walked up to your stand. you can’t help but be curious about her. unlike most of the girls you had met at the market thus far, she wasn’t throwing herself at your feet.

though you wouldn’t mind if she did.

“i’m abigail, by the way. abby,” abby said with that awkward grin of hers, putting her hand out for you to shake. abigail. jesus christ, she never introduced herself like that. you were making the poor girl so nervous she couldn't even think right. you take her hand into yours, kissing the back of it before telling her your own name, tipping your hat. shit, even your name made her heart skip a beat.

was there a damn thing about you that abby anderson wasn’t attracted to?

“it’s nice to meet you,” abby smiled, unable to tear her eyes away from you and all the products your stand had to offer. she walked over to a little shelf beside it, stocked with candles of all scents. “did you make these, too?”

“that i did, darlin’. use the same scents as i do the soaps, so if’ya like that pine one, it’s there,” you say. abby nods. you didn’t have to tell her twice. somehow, it only smells better to her when the scent of pine and vanilla fills her nose in the form of a candle. and, of course, because you made it. she sets the candle and soap onto your stand, timid as she slides them over to you, a small mumble of, “just these,” leaving her lips.

you take the candle into your hands, grabbing a piece of brown wrapping paper from the stack of it you had behind the stand. you put it down, setting the candle in the middle of the sheet of paper before wrapping it up and putting it into a little bag alongside the soap. abby would be drooling if her lips were parted, watching the way your muscles flex at even the smallest movements as you wrap the candle up for her.

you give abby a price, to which she takes out her wallet and hands you the bills, graciously telling you to keep the change. you smile at her, more than thankful for her kindness, but not needing the extra money. “that’s alright, baby. i’ll get’ya your change, though i appreciate the gesture,” you return, reaching behind you to fetch a few ones and coins. but not before abby cuts you off.

“n- no, really, i insist. you deserve it,” abby says a little too quickly. an angel this one was, that was for damn sure.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “well, aren’t you sweet. insist, huh?”

abby nods firmly, though the blush on her cheeks betrays the show of confidence. “yes, i insist. you’re going to be here all day, you’re selling awesome products, and you’re hot. it’s the least i could do,” she says, like the fact was common knowledge. you lean in just to tease her, raising an eyebrow.

“ya’think i’m hot, darlin’?”

abby’s eyes widen at how close you get to her face, and how suddenly aware she is of her own existence. she almost can’t hear you over the sound of her heart rattling in her ears, pumping in her chest as the musky scent of your cologne fills her nose. she tries and fails to not let her eyes wander down to your lips and fuck, her head was spinning, spiraling with the handsome cowgirl she could die happy now that she’d met.

“i- i meant, like, heat-wise. it’s in the, um, 80’s right now,” abby replies awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck like it’ll settle the nerves having a field day in her veins. “but you are pretty hot,” she mumbles under her breath.

you sure as hell don’t miss it.

“well, thank’ya kindly, darlin’. you’re mighty fine yourself,” you smirk, and abby’s head was spinning. how did people like you even exist in real life? you were right of of a western movie, the way you looked, the way you sounded, even your energy alone was enough to throw a city girl like abby for a loop. “but you’re damn right. fuck, sweatin’ like a damn sinner in church in this heat,” you say, taking a second to stretch as you do.

abby can’t help the way her cheeks burn at the simple act of you cussing. and she’d tear her eyes from you right now, if it weren’t for the way your flannel rises when you stretch, revealing the lower part of your torso. you make direct eye contact with her and shoot one of your signature smirks her way before speaking. “well, if you’re gonna be such a sweetheart, s’only fair i do a little somethin’ in return,” you say. you reach behind you to the little cooler that’s filled with all the dairy products you make on your farm, rummaging through it. “d’ya like strawberries?”

abby nodded, wondering what you were getting at. “i do.”

“alright, then,” you nod in return, pulling out one of your jugs of strawberry milk and sliding it across the counter towards her. “can’t have a pretty thing like you burnin’ up in this heat, now can we? promise you’ll like it.”

abby cursed the blush on her cheeks, hoping you’d think she was getting sunburnt instead. pretty. you think she’s fucking pretty. “i- i’m sure i will, but i don’t think the change i gave you covers this,” abby said, just about ready to reach into her wallet and give you every last bill in it. but you shake your head, taking her previous words.

“ah ah ah. i insist. alright?” you say, and there’s a no nonsense way about the words that leave your lips, like you won’t take no for an answer, so firm that it sends chills down abby’s spine. she pouts and she’s fucking adorable as she does it. and when she gives you a reluctant nod, you smile. “attagirl.”

jesus christ.

“i’m going to pay you back for this. somehow,” abby says, a hint of brattiness to her voice. you can’t say you don’t like it, especially when it’s accompanied with that cute pout of hers. you chuckle as she asks, “what do you want?”

“hm,” you pretend to think about it, putting your hands on your hips as you push your tongue into your cheek. abby’s trying and failing hard not to look at the sweat dripping down your tattooed arms. you make up your mind, then look down at her. “why don’t’cha come back tomorrow? late, when the market’s ‘bout to close. i’ll show’ya how to make it up to me,” you say with a wink.

abby’s heart skips a beat at your words. she doesn’t think she’s ever been more happy to hear a promise like that one. her smile is equal parts coy and shy as she responds to you. “i’ll be here.”

no matter how confident you look on the outside, butterflies are swarming ‘round your belly within. a pretty girl like this one, shy and sweet, generous and kind, was going to come back tomorrow to see you, no convincing needed. had you died and gone to heaven? you smile, blowing abby a little kiss. “alright, then. take care now, abigail,” you tease, just as she’s about to walk away. abby playfully rolls her eyes at you.

“abby.”

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ taglist! @aouiaa @plutolovesyou @soupycloud @xayn-xd

[deadghosy]

hear me out, really little sibling reader and older sibling boy go fruit picking, be it strawberries or oranges or what have you. piggy back rides to reach the high fruits just really sweet sibling bonding -🦇

˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐁𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞.

Warning: very fluffy small little imagines and how strawberry picking with Lorenzo is.

Details: age of reader is 5 years old while Lorenzo is 17 in this.

A/n: thank you 🦇 anon for this request! This was my favorite thing to write about 🫶🏾 enjoy

You always wanted to go strawberry picking with your brother. But with him being in Hogwarts and doing work, you thought he wouldn’t have any time for you.

Only for you to be wrong when he shows up during the holiday to spend time with his beloved little sibling.

When you asked what he wanted to do after unpacking his things. He remembered how you wrote to him about how you always wanted to go strawberry picking. He smiled picking you up. Lifting you up like the lion muggle movie called "lion king". “Let’s go strawberry picking love.” You were immediately struck with a wave of happiness and excitement. You started to squealed of delight. Lorenzo smiled at your excitement. You both told your parents about what you two were gonna do tomorrow as Lorenzo had secretly packed some hats to blind you both from the sun.

As the morning rolled, Enzo sprayed you up and down with sunscreen. He did himself afterwards whilst you grabbed a sun hat he bought for you. You two soon rolled out. Making it to the strawberry fields was an amazing sight as you gripped the hand they held yours. “Bub! Bub! Look at all those pretty berries!!” You said jumping up and down. Enzo smiled softly at you. “Yes love, look at how juicy and sweet they are.” Your mouth started to water, and Lorenzo knew as well. “Alright lovely, let’s get to picking!” Enzo pulled out two baskets. One large for him, and a small one for you. You immediately let go of his hand and started to hand pick every single strawberry you seen. Seconds turned into minutes into an hour. Lorenzo was by your side picking the fresh strawberries beside you. He loves that innocent glint in your eyes, he loved making you happy and making sure you had a good holiday with him. To him, this was making up time for how he didn’t spend much with you. He also hated how he couldn’t see you much. You two were stuck to the hip ever since your birth.

A squeal broke his train of thought when he sees you running at him with a big strawberry. “Enzy! Enzy! Look what I got!” Lorenzo kneeled down to your height to take the strawberry you held out to him. “Oh my! This is a big one!” “I know right!” You were proud to find a big one. “Guess this means we can make a strawberry cake, won’t we?” Lorenzo had a grin, a grin with a big thought as he held it up to your face. “Yes!” “Well let’s go!” Lorenzo picked you up and put you onto his back. You laughing out loud made Enzo smiled harder. He starts to make airplane noises and run through the strawberry field. You both didn’t care for the weirded out looks. What only mattered was you two getting some time together as family.

And you two were loving every moment.

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬!: 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

Imagine Lorenzo making you a small strawberry shortcake after an hour of picking strawberries. A well reward for picking the biggest strawberry.

You and Lorenzo making a mess of the kitchen, laughter thrown around as you splash Enzo with flour

You making a smile face out of a flour pile. Enzo moved by you to almost make his own smile face out of flour.

Imagine Lorenzo making sure you don’t get a big piece so you don’t choke on it. He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t watch what you ate.

You and Lorenzo watching some muggle cartoons he got from a store with the strawberries. He knows you liked comic books and visual things, so he got them for you.

You bragging tonight about how you picked the biggest berry before him.

You flicking a small strawberry into Lorenzo’s shirt, making him arch his back and try to get it out.

Lorenzo throwing a bigger strawberry at your face making you two go into a strawberry fight

Imagine you and Lorenzo playing with the strawberries like Barbie dolls to pass a little bit of time.

You eating the last few strawberries and being full as Lorenzo laughed at how you hiccuped from eating all them. He soon picked you up and laid you down as you usually sleep after eating.

[alotofpockets]

Unexpected gestures | Beth Mead x Reader

Where your son learned something you aren't too happy with

And a happy birthday to our Meado!

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.1k

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You hear your son waking up in the other room, so you quickly get up to make sure your wife can sleep in on her birthday. After placing a soft kiss onto Beth’s forehead, you sneak out of your bedroom and into that of your son.

“Good morning sweetie.” His eyes light up when he sees you, “Mommy!” His arms reach out for you, and like every morning you wake him up, you lay down in his bed with him for some cuddles. You’re cuddling for a bit when all of a sudden Lucas sits up, “Mama’s birthday!.” 

“It is!” You were amazed by the fact that he remembered. Over the past couple of weeks you had been trying to teach Lucas the concept of time. To aid him learning the days passing, you had made a calendar where he would cross off every day that came to an end before he went to bed. He had also been using it to count down to Beth’s birthday, which he had seen last night was going to be the cross for tomorrow. 

“Do you want to help me make some breakfast to surprise her with?” Your sweet angel loved to help with everything. He was the kindest soul, Lucas truly was the best parts of you and Beth combined. The loving personality of your wife, and your caring one. Lucas nodded eagerly and was out of his room before you knew it. His little feet against the floors never failed to bring a smile to your face.

Once you make it downstairs yourself, you see Lucas had already found his favourite apron. You help him tie the dinosaur apron in the back, and get his step stool ready. You gather the ingredients together, Lucas loved making pancakes lately, which was probably because they were his favourite food over the last few months, but you happily went with it knowing that Beth would love anything her sweet boy made. 

You measure out the ingredients together, and place them in separate bowls to the side, so that Lucas could do all the pouring into the mixing bowl on his own. After telling him which ingredient went in next, he poured all the contents of the smaller bowls into the big mixing bowl. Snapping a quick picture of his focussed face with his tongue sticking out in concentration.

After mixing the batter you put the batter into the pan, and flip them together with Lucas. You loved watching your smiley boy’s face light up when another pancake was done. When you had a big enough stack, you cut up some fruits, while Lucas put some berries in a bowl. He thought you didn’t notice him putting a few handsfull in his mouth instead of in the bowl, but of course you had seen, you were just not going to stop your kid from eating fruit. 

When everything was ready, you put it on a tray and walked up to your bedroom to surprise Beth. Your wife had woken up a couple of minutes ago, but pretended to be asleep when she heard the two of you whispering in the hallway. 

Lucas jumped onto the bed and fell on top of Beth, leaving you chuckling from the doorframe. “Mama wake up, it’s your birthday!” He was gently shaking her body. The next second his giggles fill the room as Beth holds him close and starts tickling him. “Mommy help me.” He said between giggles. 

You set the tray with breakfast on your nightstand, and sit down on the bed. Instead of taking Lucas away from your wife’s grip, you decided to tickle Beth back. “Okay okay, I’m stopping.” Your wife was just as ticklish as your son was. 

“Happy birthday, my love. We made you some breakfast.” She takes in the meal that you present to her, “Thank you so much, it looks amazing.” She kisses you and then kisses Lucas on his cheek. “You two are the best.” Lucas shakes his head, “No mama, you are the best.” Your heart melted instantly. 

Breakfast was spent in bed together, as well as Beth opening both your presents and cards. Lucas had insisted on making his own card, and you had taken him to the store to pick out his own present for her. She loved everything that the two of you got her, and cuddled you both as a thank you.

In the afternoon Beth’s teammates would come over to celebrate, since it was a nice day out, you were setting up the backyard for it. Lucas insisted on hanging up decorations outside, and you agreed that it would make the backyard look more festive. You hung one side of the decorations, while Beth had Lucas on her shoulders, tying the otherside. 

It was a nice quiet moment with your family, before your backyard would be filled with the footballers that were basically a part of your family as well. 

The festivities were well underway when Lucas walked up to you. “Hi sweetie, what’s up?” With a devilish smirk he lifts up his middle finger at you. You look at him in disbelief, “Who taught you that?” He points back to a group of the girls, “Auntie Katie.” 

You get down to his level, “Sweetie, what Katie taught you is not a very nice gesture. We don’t do that, okay?” He nods his head in the form of an okay. “Sorry mommy.” You kiss his forehead. “It’s okay sweetie, go back to playing. Mommy will talk to Auntie Katie.” 

With a couple of steps you are standing in front of Katie with your arms crossed. “Ooooh you’re in trouble.” Kyra chuckles, you send her a warning glare and she lifts up her hands in surrender. You never got angry so Katie knew that whatever it was, you meant it. “If I hear you taught my sweet boy any more gestures like that or swear words, you will lose the honour of being his Auntie, do you hear me McCabe?” She nods, “Yes ma’am, I’m sorry.” 

You find the birthday girl in the kitchen, grabbing a few drinks. “What’s wrong, baby?” She immediately notices the slight frown on your face. “Katie taught Lucas how to flip people off.” Beth tries her hardest to keep her laugh in. “It’s not funny.” You shove her slightly, but fail to keep your laugh in yourself. “Yeah, it’s not funny at all.” Beth replies. She puts her arms around you, come on, let’s get back to the party. 

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[hedgehog-moss]

Salut madame hedgehog moss!

Maintenant je me prépare à déménager à une toute petite ville au nord-est des États Unis près de la frontière avec Nouveau Brunswick (donc une ville peu peuplée et très rurale). Maintenant j'habite dans une grande ville alors je suis certaine qu'il y aura un peu de décalage au début. Je sais que t'as déménager de Paris vers une très petite village donc peut être tu as des conseils pour comment je peux m'intégrer dans une telle communauté?

Désolé pour des fautes de grammaire. Le français n'est pas ma langue maternelle.

Hi! Your French is really good! :)

I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask for advice on how to fit in with a small rural community, as I chose to live in the woods a few km away from the nearest village because I moved to the countryside in search of solitude. I only leave my lair for groceries once every ten days or so—I'm on a solid "easy friendly small talk" basis with most locals, but I'm only better acquainted with a handful of them, the ones I interact with regularly by force of circumstance (the librarian because I'm a devoted library-goer, the postwoman, the farmer who owns the pasture next to mine...) and that's a level of integration in the community I'm happy with.

I suppose the main thing is to show curiosity and appreciation for the local way of life, rather than expect to live exactly the way you did in the city, but the specifics of what this entails vary a lot depending on locality. Participating in the local small economy, if there is one, is good—I try to attend the yearly events and fairs at the village, like the potter's market; I bought a jumper from the wool shop in town rather than ordering something online, and I buy fruit at the summer market and seedlings for my garden, and some cheeses, from the local farms that sell them, rather than getting stuff from the supermarket even though it would often be more convenient. But I'm glad there are still family farms and local artisans so it's important to support them. There's also a thriving informal gift economy in my village, I offer eggs from my chickens and homemade jams or syrups and later down the line neighbours reciprocate with seedlings or firewood, etc, the more you'll participate in this sort of thing (if it exists) the more connections you'll make.

Another thing re: being appreciative of the local way of life—I know the city people who are disliked around here are the ones who buy land and use it like they would a suburban plot, e.g. build a swimming-pool, mow the grass, remove all 'weeds' indiscriminately (I know brambles are annoying but birds nest in there and eat the berries, you've got to leave some...), or cover their dirt road with asphalt instead of just shovelling some gravel when it gets muddy, etc. Again the specifics vary depending on locality, but people are attached to their local landscapes and way of doing things and as someone who owns some land and has seen the way locals reacted to other people who bought land around here, you're clearly perceived differently if you have a spirit of maintaining and repairing and appreciating the place for what it is, rather than remodelling and innovating and adapting it to what you want it to be.

Also you've got to accept that it can take a very long time to become part of a close-knit community, and try not to take things personally—I remember someone commenting on one of my posts a few years ago that she felt rejected by the people in her village because she was still seen as an outsider, and not allowed to take part in the organisation of some local events, several years after moving there. I wouldn't see not getting to help organise an event as a hostile behaviour towards me, I don't really expect to be included on every level, if locals feel like some things are for people who've lived here their whole lives, okay. I know rural communities are not the most diverse places and I'm not saying to accept discrimination due to bigotry of any kind, but in terms of "being kept out of some things or treated differently because you're not from this specific place", I do see it as something to be accepted. If I'm still seen as a city person and an outsider twenty years from now, so be it, as long as people aren't outright rude about it. I don't think of not being welcome to everything as rude, there are just boundaries that exist and so be it. I'm not saying someone would be wrong for being hurt by this type of exclusion, just that it helps to have this "don't take it personally" attitude when moving to a rural village.

Having a llama also really helps! The only reason I got acquainted with lots of local people in my first year here was because Pampe kept running away and I kept having to knock on people's doors with like a photo of her and go hi, have you seen this criminal. And then people would stop me at the grocery shop or something two weeks later like, did you end up finding your criminal? And I'd complain about her and they'd sympathise and tell me about their own annoying animals. I can't recommend animal misdemeanours enough as a source of friendly mutual understanding with rural neighbours.

Oh and speaking of complaining—another obvious way to integrate in a small community is to fight together against a common enemy. This is anecdotal but last year a state-owned company started to build a metallic structure (I'm trying not to be too specific) outside the village and it spoilt the landscape a bit, and I hesitated to grumble about it when making small talk because I was half-expecting to come across as an annoying city person, complaining about aesthetics while local people's livelihoods would be improved by this thing—but not at all, people also hated the look of it and were like "they hardly even consulted local authorities on this, they think we don't get to have an opinion on what our land looks like" and we went to the town hall to complain and the mayor agreed with us and eventually we complained enough that the company replaced the metal parts with wooden ones, so it at least looks more natural and more discreet in the landscape. It was very satisfying to come together and have this happen, and I never felt more integrated in the local community than when I was in the town hall complaining with everybody else.

[indubioprocoffee]

“It’s pumpkins everywhere,” Dean exclaimed as they visited the local harvest festival.

“No, Dean. There’s also a lot of wheat, corn, potatoes, apples, berries-”

“Okay, okay I got it, lots of other food,” Dean interrupted. “But man, there sure are a lot of pumpkins too.”

“I guess so?”

“There’s pumpkin carving for kids, pumpkin soup, even pumpkin pie …”

“Dean? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just … a whole lot of orange.”

“Yes, that’s the color most pumpkins have.” Castiel was looking at Dean like he was losing his mind.

“Cas?,” Dean whispered in a high pitched voice. “I’m scared of pumpkins.”

“You …? What?” Maybe he really was losing his mind.

“They carve these weird faces into them and when they light a candle in there … these things become alive. If you look in those pumpkin eyes it looks like hell. It looks like thousand spirits living there.”

“You’ve fought against Lucifer, every monster imaginable, unthinkable evil … But you are scared of pumpkins?” Castiel still couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“Don’t laugh, man. It’s just a … orange flag for me, I guess.”

“I’m um …” Cas said, trying to hold back a giggle. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, at least I’m the first man who rendered you speechless.”

“Actually-“

“Don’t! Give me this one thing, Cas. Damn it! Where are Sam and Eileen? If we don’t find them in the next ten minutes, I’m leaving without them.” Dean’s look wandering searchingly over the premises.

“Dean,” Cas interrupted his anxious gaze, taking both his hands. “You know, you may haven’t been the first man rendering me speechless. But you sure had a lot of other firsts.” Their eyes locked as Cas’ intense look remembered Dean of all the unspeakable things they did in the bedroom.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me forget these hellish vegetables for a minute.”

“Actually, botanically speaking I think they are fruit.”

@wigglebox

[multiwreckedmess]

February Filth Fest - Day 7

Pairing: Wooyoung x fem!reader Kink: Aphrodisiacs/Overstim WC: 3.6k Summary: Thick as thieves you’ve seen Wooyoung on good days and bad days. Both of you have done some admittedly dumb things but you’re young and hot and a little reckless. So why is Wooyoung sitting on the sofa pouring sweat in the middle of February when you come home? TW/CW: Bratty!wooyoung, sub!wooyoung, dom!reader, undernegotiated kink, painslut!wooyoung, aphrodisiacs, dubcon, lots of humping (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), degradation (m receiving), inhuman amounts of climaxes, coercion (heavy amounts underline bold), no pronouns used for reader but fem presenting body parts (vagina, breasts), Wooyoung is called names (toy, slut, dumb, bastard), unprotected penetration, multiple creampies

Additional discussion below the cut of TW/CW

Wooyoung is VERY much under the influence but also pressures the reader past their set boundaries. The reader does “consent” after a bit and has wanted to in the past but neither thing should truly count as consent. Neither party should be doing this and for that I’m labeling as dubcon. Do with that what you will. I wanted to stress again, this is fiction and you should talk to your partner outside of the bedroom before doing ANYTHING like this in the bedroom.

Wooyoung is sweating which is weird because every window in the small apartment you share is wide open with the fan on high. And it’s the middle of February. “Dude, you good?” Your smile is disconcerting despite your best efforts to look casual. Wooyoungs head snaps to look at you, eyes fluttering as he presses a pillow against his crotch. “It was a joke, a funny haha joke.” His eyes well with tears. “You know those miracle fruit tablets? You know when we all took them for fun and then did a blindfolded taste test and Hongjoong ate a radish but he liked it so he asked for more and we all made fun of him and called him radish boy for a week even though we all ate weird things that day and really it was good that he ate a vegetable for once in his life without making a face so I joked I was going to force feed him miracle berries every day?” Your eyes glaze as he rattles on, noting his uncomfortable wiggling and pressing of the pillow, mouth dropping open into a pained whine as he performs his one man show. “Yeah Wooyoung I remember, the tablets.” “Well I got more but I also got these sex gummies.” “Viagra.” “No. Maybe? I don’t know they just said ‘aphrodisiac’ and i thought ‘oh cool like oysters and chocolate covered strawberries I fucking doubt they’ll do anything’ but…” he trails off, eyelids fluttering. “God damn you look so fucking good today.” “Wooyoung is that my pillow?” You cautiously inch towards him. His knuckles are white gripping the blue cotton of your pillowcover. As you get closer you realize he smells like sweat and cum, the room being spared by the copious amount of ventilation. “No but really you look…” his speech is slow and dumb. A hand releases the pillow and grabs the zipper of your jacket fumbling with your outerwear. You swat at his hand, “it’s fucking freezing Wooyoung.” He whimpers like a hit puppy. “If I can close the windows you can take this off of me.” With a snap the living room is sealed shut again, Wooyoungs hands yanking your winter weather gear from you all the way down to your tshirt and jeans. “Do you always smell this good? You smell so fucking good.” Hands wandering everywhere his nose pressed to your chest rubbing his face into you. Wooyoung feels the room spinning, the closed windows allowing your scent to flood the space. He can barely hold onto a sliver of himself that isn’t a hormone filled sex crazed psycho. You stumble as his fingers grab and dig into the flesh of your ass. There's an obvious tent and a damp spot on the front of his sweats, no doubt soaked through by his predicament. “I think I’m going to die. I think my dick is gonna just pop. I don’t want a neo penis I like the one I have! Would you love me if I had a neo cock? People are into those these days, right?” Wooyoung sniffles and burbles frantically. There’s no way to escape his needy grasp so you opt to stroke his back. Endorphins flood his system, knuckles whitening. He shudders and moans, squeezing his eyes tight. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he chants, guilt settling heavy in his stomach. “It felt so good I’m sorry.” “Woo-” your voice low and soft and soothing, “did you just cum?” He nods, eyes cast down in shame. “I’m so sorry I can’t-I can’t-” his chest feels tight, eyes brimming with tears. “No Woo, it’s okay,” you continue to pet his back and speak softly. “Hey we can get through this together okay? Okay. How long has this all been happening?” He tries to think, nose wrinkling cutely in concentration. How long has it been? Honestly it felt like forever but in the scheme of things probably had only been an hour. Available snacks in the apartment had dwindled towards the end of the week and the bag of funny little penis shaped gummies were supposed to be his mid afternoon sugar hit to jolt him into productivity. It wasn’t until an hour or so after that he started to feel…strange. Antsy almost like a pot of coffee had been injected into his veins. “Maybe an hour? I think I ate it two hours ago so…an hour? I don’t know, I've cum three times already and I can't stop. It feels so good like you wouldn’t believe how good. Each time I feel like I’m going to die and piss and shit myself and you’d come home and see me dead covered in cum and piss and shit with my cock in my hand-” “WOOYOUNG,” you grab his face. “I don’t need to hear it, okay?” He mumbles an apology. As he’d warned he was already hard again, hips moving of their own accord rutting against your thigh again. “Let’s get you out of those pants okay?” You help him gingerly remove the pants, soaked with sweat and cum. The sight below makes you regret removing them, his boxers are far worse, the raw stench of sex filling the air. Wooyoung is already grappling back to you, almost physically unable to bear being apart. “JUNG WOOYOUNG,” you snap, “change your FUCKING boxers right now.” You wrench your arm from his grasp, summoning all the sternness in your soul to send him to his room. He scuttles sheepishly away, slamming drawers dramatically. In the meantime you go to investigate the kitchen, looking for the bag. Luckily you don’t have to look hard, the crumpled plastic conveniently placed just beside the trash can, as was his habit. Willy World’s Addictive Aphrodisiacs, emblazoned on the bag in pink bubble letters. A bearded lanky cartoon cowboy riding an erect penis sits in the lower left hand corner. No wonder he didn’t think these were serious. In bold subtitled below the heading “eat no more than four or you might need to get yourself a whore.” You grimace. Wooyoung’s slight but muscular body presses you into the counter, arms snaking up your front, cradling you close to him. “Couldn’t find you, thought you’d run,” he sniffs. “Don’t run okay? Please, I’m scared. You can’t leave me.” “Woo- how many were in the bag?” You try your best to hide the streak of panic in your voice. “I don’t know, many. I ate them all I didn’t count.” He’s rubbing his cheeks and nose all over your neck and shoulders again, not so subtle erection pressing into you again. “More than four?” You try to politely ignore the prodding of his cock as he squeezes your body in his hands. Grabbing fistfuls of your flesh as he groans. “Oh yeah. More than four.” He sighs, dragging his cock over the cleft of your ass. His spindly fingers already helping themselves to the top button of your jeans. “Fuck. Wooyoung.” He sighs dreamily, “yeah?” Sliding your fly down, tooth by tooth. You swat his hand again. “Wooyoung. You had more than four, it says no more than four.” He whimpers, loosening his grip just barely. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t think they were serious,” he whines, slowly reestablishing his hold on you. “You get it now don’t you? I’m so fucked. Please help me. Help me.” His hands return to your fly. “I promise, just let me grind on you a bit and I’ll be good. I’ll let you do what you need to do I just need-” You sigh and roll your eyes, sticking your ass out against him, phone in hand. “Fine. Rub your dumb dick on me. Just shut the fuck up and let me figure out how fucked you are.” Wooyoung thinks he might cum just from sheer giddy excitement, hastily yanking down your jeans and pressing his bulge to your ass, still covered in cute striped underwear. You let him practically drape himself over you as you lean forward on the counter, both elbows anchored to the stone counter. He pants in your ear, jostling your body with each thrust as you try to google reviews of the aphrodisiacs. The first listing is the site Wooyoung bought from, a gag gifts and tchotchke store with no written reviews opting for simple star ratings. The next listing is full of clearly automated reviews lacking substance and information. Your lips press into a thin line. The next three sites are just as hopeless and Wooyoung’s humping is getting more vigorous. He tries to bury his moans in your shoulder, the high pitched whines still reaching your ears. Still you are focused on helping your friend. Trying to hold your arm still to scan the ingredients list for clues you groan in frustration. Wooyoung grabs your breast with a gasp and a grunt, cumming in his boxers, leaving a suspicious damp spot on your ass. His full weight laying on your back relaxed he strokes your breast with his thumb where he assumes your nipple might be beneath the layers of clothes. 

You’d turn around to scold him but you’ve finally found something. A website that looks straight from the late 90s, black background with red comic sans burning itself into your retinas, and it seems to be an older woman’s sex toy review blog. Darla, a 50 year old housewife, reviews her finds on a bi-weekly basis and Willy World’s Addictive Aphrodisiacs is listed. She jokes about her dog accidentally stealing the first bag and needing to buy him four new stuffed plushies over the course of a full eight hours. The vet finally recommended a fertile female mate currently in her care to see if it would encourage quicker cessation of the symptoms which seemed to work.  She gave the product a seven out of ten, recommending both partners take the recommended dosage for best effect.

Both of Wooyoung’s hands cup your breasts, squishing and massaging their weight between his fingers. “You’re so wet you know. It’s not just because of my cock. I can feel it.” “You humped me within an inch of my life, it makes sense.” He presses two fingers against the crotch of your underwear, a sticky squelch of soaked fabric exposes your half truth. “My dick was nowhere near here, that’s all you. You wanna fuck your poor desperate friend, don’t you. You like that I need your help, that I’m all fucked out and needy for you. C’mon take advantage of me. I want you to. Use me. I deserve it. Use me like the dumb fuck toy I am.” His fingers rub against your clit in small insistent circles as he pleads. You gulp. He’s persuasive. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought of it once or twice before, shamefully in the late night silence of your room. Maybe you’d even thought about cuddling up next to him on the couch, marathoning a drama. How nice it would be to just fuck him like you owned him. Struggling to keep yourself in line you force your brain back into emergency mode. One of you has to be the one in control, even if the other is steering in a dangerous direction. “Woo, you know I can’t. You’re my best friend. You’re my roommate. You’re my partner in crime. I can’t risk-” Sensing your weakness he launches his three pronged attack, hands working in tandem, one at your breast the other at your button, burying his teeth in the junction between your neck and shoulder right where he’s seen you shudder before when massaging you. Everything you fought with crumbles like it was made of sand. Phone clattering against the countertop you mewl, an undignified high pitched whine as you grasp at the smooth surface to ground yourself. “Extenuating circumstances,” he mumbles, kissing the red splotch, pleased with the small shudder he causes. “I could die. I really could.” In reality at worst he’s in for another 4 hours of this, you assume based on previous experiences with his metabolism, unlikely that he dies. But the one reviewer did say that- the train of thought is cut off abruptly by the thrumming of your clit. How the fuck did he get so good at that? This was not how you’d imagined it at all. “You fucker, you bought c minus sex gummies and didn’t even leave any for me,” you turn to face him, having to arch your back over the counter to look him in the eye. “Okay well next time-” You smack his arm. “Bed. Now. You’re going to fucking pay for this somehow.” Wooyoung practically skips to his bedroom, heart light and grinning from ear to ear. Tossing ruined socks and underwear in the approximate direction of his hamper he hears the soft patting of your feet approaching. He could cum just from anticipation. Turning he sees you there in his door. The demon inside of him stills. “Fuck,” he whispers to himself. Wearing only your underwear and t-shirt, hair in a messy bun, smudged mascara fallout coating your lower lash line, you’re so fucking sexy to him. It’s better than any lingerie because it’s how he knows you and he finally gets to have you to himself. Sat on the edge of his bed, eyes half lidded with lust, boxers doing nothing to conceal his prominent bulge. You watch his eyes drink you in and you make up your mind right there. Go with it. Whatever shenanigans Wooyoung got himself into before you’d always been there and you’d be there until the end. A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as his hand clenches his thigh, chest rising and falling with a shaky exhale. Sauntering over you place one leg between his, straddling him to place your other knee on the bed. “You sure about this?” He turns his head to the side and kisses your wrist softly, earnestly, so carefully your heart hurts. Gazing up at your face, your flyaways forming an angelic halo, his eyes clear from the lust induced haze if only for a second. “You won’t regret it.” “Big talk from a man who came from a single back rub.” He tugs on your panties, face buried in your lower belly, kissing and sucking red spots into your hips. “You don’t even know how long I’ve wanted to eat you out. Can’t wait to feel your thighs tremble around my face,” Wooyoung rants like a crazed man, tangling himself around you as you try to step out of your underwear. “You smell like candy and strawberries. Do you know that? Every time after you shower the whole apartment smells like you.” His hands scoop under your ass nearly pulling your legs over his shoulders. Tongue running up your inner thigh he dives in messily sucking and licking your slit, burying his face deep between your thighs, bridge of his nose eagerly grinding into your clit. You grab onto the mop of hair that is Wooyoung to try to steady yourself. “Fuck Woo-what the fuck-” you gasp as he flicks his tongue. “Why are you so good?” The more you wiggle the harder he grabs your ass. His whiny moans vibrate your most intimate parts, tip of his tongue just able to tease your entrance.  Your thighs tense, “Woo-Wooyoung-Woo- I’m- I don’t wanna- hurt you” you grunt,  tugging his hair sharply, forcing him to look up at you. “Use me. Use me to get off.” His voice is hoarse and desperate, your sounds driving him to the brink. “I like it.” His eyes are hazy, slowly pushing his tongue forward to kitten lick your clit, waiting for your next move. “Fuck it, fine,” you groan, pushing his head to you again, his mouth buzzing your mound in delight. Looking down into his eyes you roll your hips against his face, his eyes rolling back to whites, arms assisting each drag of your slit. “You’re right Woo- you got yourself into this mess and you made it my problem. I should get to have some fun from your dumbass mistake.” Slowly trailing a hand up your shirt to play with your nipple you fuck his face with abandon, losing yourself in the loud pops and gasps of your lovers ministrations. Your thighs tense once more so hard you fear you could pop his head clean off but you’re too far gone, walls clenching and pulsing as you cum. Wooyoung whimpers, threatening to topple backwards onto the bed as his abs seize up, cumming untouched in his already ruined boxers. Cupping the back of his neck you roll him back onto the bed, a drunken smile plastered on his ruined face, tongue circling his lips to clear himself of the remnants.

You unceremoniously strip him of his boxers, bunching them and wiping his thighs clean of his fluids. A moment of gentleness. As the gummies had advertised, he’s still impossibly hard and ready to go. Thick and veiny and nearly throbbing purple and red, you see what he meant by thinking it might just burst.

“I’m going to fuck you now Woo, okay? Where are your condoms?” You break your character, backing away from his bed. “NO,” Wooyoung sits bolt upright. “I need to feel you. I need to. Please I can’t. I’ll go insane being that close. I really will. I need to - I need you to let me - please let me-” “Jung Woo Young, do you really think-” “I’m clean, I know you’re clean after that asshole cheated you went to the clinic and I know i wasn’t supposed to but i overheard you and I know I see you take pills every day and I can go buy plan b when this is all over-” he babble just like he was when you found him, lower lip quivering. “I’ll be so good and if you if we-if it takes I’ll be the best dad if you wanna or I can wait in the waiting room and I’ll cook your favorite meal-”

Closing your eyes you sigh, putting the role back on. You push him, both hands to his shoulders, back onto the bed. Crawling over top of him he continues prattling on and on so far into the future it’s nearly nonsense. “Woo-” you speak lowly, looking up through your eyebrows at him. He doesn’t notice. So you slap him. Not enough to turn his head but enough to shock him back to earth.with wide eyes and a moan. ”I’m going to fuck you now Wooyoung, you better watch carefully because it’s only happening once.”

Hovering just close enough to slot him snugly in your entrance you steady yourself with one hand on his side and slide down onto him. Wooyoung pupils dilate with each disappearing inch, veins in his neck bulging as he focuses on where you meet, afraid he might miss even a millisecond. He feels velvety and warm and fills you nicely, stretching your walls from tip to base as you settle with him fully inside you.

“I’m gonna-” “Shut the fuck up Wooyoung.” You grind your hips on him. “Toys don’t talk.” His jaw drops, abs tensing. Two potent drives tear him apart. The need to cum and the need to please. Brows furrowed and eyes closed he tries his best to focus on anything but how good he feels. The second he dares sneak a peek he throbs against your walls, spilling into you. “Sorry.” He squeaks. You both pause, waiting. Worried it might be over just as it starts. Your hips continue swiveling on him in small circles. He doesn’t soften. “You still good Woo?” “Fucking Willy World’s Addictive Aphrodisiacs. Yeah. Very much.” “Can I just- I’m going to do what feels good for me because everything seems to do it for you.” “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

You drag your hips back and forth, one hand holding his thigh, the other on his stomach. Chasing your high you close your eyes and tilt your head back, letting out a deep throaty moan. Sweating and trembling you tug at the hem of your shirt uselessly. Two hands trail up your thighs to help it off of you. “Woo, you feel really good.” You whine, taking his hand and placing it on your thigh, holding it there.

Wooyoung could die then and he wouldn’t care. The softness of your skin, the way your breasts bounce as you rut against him, the pout of your lips in a soft “O” shape, and best of all his cum dripping slowly out around him mixed with you. He can feel another climax on the horizon. Almost painfully cramping his muscles as your cunt milks him for another load. Seeing white it’s all worth it for your choked moan. His fingernails dig into your thighs as his hips thrust up and push him even deeper into you, head of his cock just kissing your cervix as he coats your walls once more with a painful grunt. Deep relief washes over his whole body, like a weight lifts off and his soul floats halfway between life and death. Rest. Finally rest.

“That’s it, my good boy. My Wooyoung. My good little horny bastard. Still there? Still with me?” Your eyes are equally as unfocused as his now. Exhausted but still slowly working down your aftershocks. In the pleasant haze you feel him drop out of you as he softens. Trying to shuffle off him to clean up he flips you onto your side wordlessly and pulls you to him. “It’s over?” “Mhmm,” he buries his nose in your wilted bun. “Your sheets-” “Later.” “Wooyoung.” You flip yourself onto your stomach to look at him, scowling as a glob of cum drips from your used cunt. “I love you. Sheets later. Cuddles now.” His palm rubs between your shoulder blades as you snuggle into his side. “Next time I’ll save some for you.” Because of course there would be a next time.

Okay so yes i let this one get away from be but I’ve been wanting to write some good ol’ fuck or die sort of scifi bullshit for a while.

[lokideservesahug]

Once Upon A Dream

Part of the 𝓕1 𝓕𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓼𝔂 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Fem! Reader (Sleeping Beauty AU)

Warnings: Reader breaks out into song at points and it's kinda cringy so sorry (but it needed to happen).

Notes: This is very short so I'm sorry and Idk when part 2 will come out but I've made a decent start on it. Also Miami was just so amwkwjsnjwuaha so...

Summary: Raised by three women in the middle of the woods and being visited only by a prince in your dreams, your life is very simple. Or is it?

Word Count: 2K

Part 2

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

You were a miracle to your parents when you first arrived. For years, they were under the assumption that they would never produce an heir yet miraculously, you came info this Earth. So needless to say when you arrived, it was a huge spectacle. You climb hears distant murmers of the day but whenever you asked about it, people would redirect the conversation and avoid your question. But you bever gave it too much thought, you were only a baby.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

On the morning of your 21st birthday, your 3 carers randomly tell you that they want you to leave the house to pick some berries ; which is quite odd because you could have sworn that you saw a full fruit bowl this morning. But alas, you see no point in arguing and so you grab your basket, put in some shoes and leave your cottage. "Rember, don't don't too far!" "And don't speak to strangers." "Goodbye dear." At the ladies' chorus you smile and wave before setting off.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Many miles away, up in a tall, dark, ominous castle. A sorceress dresses head to tie in black is shouting at her followers. "It's incredible! Over two decades and not a trace of her! Are you truly sure you have checked everywhere?" The creature nods and begins to hold oit his fingers ready to lost off places. "Yeah. We checked the mountains, the forest uhm, houses and uh- the uh- all the cradles." Malificent turns to face him un shock and (surprisingly) quietly says "Cradles?" The henchman nods happily "Yep. Every cradle." He laughs whilst proceeds to do a rocking gesture. "Cradles?!" The woman all but shouts. She turns to berate pet crow and opts for a more passive tone. "Did you hesr that my dear? All of these years and these imbeciles have been looking for a baby?" More henchman are now stood behind the first snow they're all sporting proud grins. Malificent laughs almost insanicly and the henchmen join in clearly misunderstanding the cause of her laughter.

"Fools!" She snaps. "Idiots!" They jump back at her shouts. "You imbeciles." She begins to wave her staffa round and as it shoots out jolts of energy, the followers scatter and try and leave the room. She makes her way towards her 'throne' at the back of the room and nd places her head in her hands. "They're hopeless..." Malficent sits doen in the chair  "Disrcaes to the forces of evil." The crow flutters to the left armresst and she adresses him. "Oh pet. You are my last hope. Circle far and wide. Search for a maid with Y/H/C locs and lips as red as the first bloomed rose in late spring. Go and do not fail me." The crow flys off through the giant window and Malificent feels her last thread of hope dwindle slightly.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

"Boy will she be surprised." One of your guardians runs away from the door and to the sewing draw. "A real birthday party!" another of the women chimes. "With a real birthday cake!" The last of the women sighs almost dreamily whilst grabbing a recipe book. The woman in red (Florah) sticks her head from the ottoman filled with fabrics and needles with a gorgeous, long pink piece of fabric draped over her arms. "Oh yes. And a dress that only a princess can be proud of." The smallest of the 3 women dressed in blue (Merryweather) trecks up the stairs whilst exclaiming "I'll get the wands!" Florah nods "Yes you g- wait, the wands? No! We can't be using the wands! No magic remember." Merryweather dejectedly walks down the stairs. "But the twenty-one years are almost over!" Florah scowls and places the pink fabric along with a large sewing kit into Merryweather's arms as she walks off and opens a large cupboard. "No. We are not going to take any chances." Merryweather's lips form a small 'o' in shock. "B-but I can't bake a cake! Let alone a fancy one..." Florah closes the cupboard and pulls out another long pink fabric roll. Finally the woman dressed in green (Fauna) interjects. "Oh you won't have to dear! I'll be doing the baking." Merry turns Fauna in shock. "You!?"

Florah places the newer fabric into Merry's tored arm and softly says "Oh, she's always wanted to dear. And this is her last chance!" Merry tilts her he'd he'd consideration before Fauna speaks. "I'm going to make it fifteen layers! Oh and it will have pink and blue forget-me-nots." The shortest of the women stares in horror as Florah adds "Oh! And I'm making the dress." Merry splutters. "But...you can't sew. And she has never even cooked!" Florah laughs and begins to grab things from around the room "Oh how hard can it be? All you need to do is follow the book. Up here dear." She gently nudges Merry onto the stool she just moved. "You can be my dummy." Merry doesn't even think about Florah's words before she objects. "Well I still say we ought to do magic!" Florah throws the fabric onto Merryweather to silence her and begins to cut said fabric as Fauna begins to happily hum and lay out the ingredients for her elaborate cake.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You wander aimlessly in the forest you've become so accustomed to in all of these years. You find yourself hanging along so a song that your carers have sung your whole life. With no need to be embarrassed as you were the only one for miles, you begin to fully sing the song whilst still looking around for some berries (how your household apparently managed to eat them so quickly is beyond you).

Unbeknownst to you, an orange clad man riding on his horse through the forest does in fact hear you. "Do you hear that Samson? It's beautiful." The horse starts at his owner's clearly awestruck tone. Samson begins to trot forward as the man on top of him turns around in attempt to find the source of the noise. "What is it? Come on... let's find out." The man pulls on the reins and forces the pair to turn around and venture in the direction of the noise yet the horse resists once again. Oscar rolls his eyes and leans down so he's level with the horses giant ear. "Would you do it for an extra bucket of oats?" He doesn't even have time to sit back up before the horse is spinning around and fastly trotting towards the direction of the melodic sound. "Woah!" At his owner's voice, Sampson turns around and looks down to find a dreched Oscar sitting in a puddle on the floor. He guiltily moves towards the man on the floor when Oscar wades his hand through the water and splashes Samson. "No carrots for you."

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

After you finish your singing session you found your regular companions, the various wildlife creatures in the forest, make for good listeners. "They never want me to meet anyone." You skim your foot over the pond to your side. "But do you want to know something? I fooled them! I have met someone!" You stand up and put on an elaborate display for the various birds and quires who looked like they were hanging on to your every word. "Well he's tall and handsome and-" You pluck a Berry from a brach above your head. "And ever so romantic." You skip to the trunk of another tree, continuing to pit on a show for the animals. "We walk together. We talk together and before we say goodbye he takes me into his arms." You gaze up at the trees as if in a trance of lovely thoughts "And then I wake up." You hear the animal equivalents of disgruntled sighs at your words. "Yet people say if you dream of something enough, it's sure to come true!" Lost in your romantic soliloquy once again, you fail to notice the shift in the nails attention and a giant orange cloak being hind on a branch not far from you. "And I've seen him so many times." You sigh in longing.

On the otherside of the tree, Oscar begins speaking to his own animal as he removes one of his boots. "You know Samson, there weas something too good to be true about that voice. Too beautiful to really exist."Oscar takes the other of his damp boots, empties the water from it and places it next to the other to dry. "It was probably a figment of my imagination. Or maybe some mythical creature. A forest fairy maybe?" Oscar is the lost in his own thoughts to realise that two small rabbits have waeslesd themselves in his boots and taken off with them. But by the time he has, it's far too late. "Wait! Stop!"

You don't ponder how the animals acquired random clothes (they've done much stranger things). But as an owl approaches you in a thick orange jacket, you can't help but continue your playfully nature from  earlier. "Oh wow, it's my dream prince!" You bow at the prince (various birds with a cloak) "Your highness. You know, I shouldn't be speaking to strangers... But we've met before." You begin to hum a tune whilst dancing with the animals dressed in many pieces of clothing, almost bringing yoir dream prince to life.

Oscar peeks his head out from a bush as he hears that majestic noise begin again and both him and Samson are left speechless at the sight. In front of him is the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen singing and dancing with- wait. Is that his travel cloak?

You spin once again and Oscar jumps behind you to join in with your dance. This time he is the one saying with you as he hums along to your singing. You open your eyes as the song ends only to see the animals in front of you. So who's behind you? You open your eyes widely in shock and pull away from the being and turn to see who you were dancing with at the end. Yet you find yourself at a loss for words as you see the most dreamy, charming and attractive man in front of you ; and you find yourself thinking that he is so much better than the man of your dreams.

You gasp in shock and pull away, your guardians words of strangers ringing in your ears, yet he continues to chase your figure and traps your hand in between his two hands I a gentle embrace. "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." You pull away, trying not to get lost in his presence. "Oh it wasn't that-" Oscar follows you. "It's just that you're a-" He takes your hand with his in an attempt to not let you (who he's beginning to think is the live if his life) escape. "A stranger?" You hum in  agreeance with his words. He gives you a grin and it takes very thing within you not to melt into a tiny puddle. "But don't you remember? We've met before." You furrow your brows in confusion "We have?" He nods and smiles at you again "Oh yeah. You said so yourself. Once upon a dream."

You blush and turn away from the man yet he begins to repeat your song back to you. You slowly duck behind a tree and turn to see if he's following only to be met with his attempts to take your hand into his. You say aways from the touch but as your little 'dance' continues, you can't help but feel your cheeks begin to break out in a soft smile. At this he reaches out for your hand once more and you finally let him take it. You did yourself melting into the embrace as the two if you sing, hum and dance together along the waters age and you truly feel as if you've met this man before once upon a dream.

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome.

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @minkyungseokie

[septimaseverinawannawrite]

Autumn Equinox

Fandom: Tom Hiddleston's Loki

Type: One Shot

Pairing: Asgard!Loki x F!Reader

Summaries: Blissful Autumnal Equinox with your most beloved, Loki.

Content : Establishing Relationship.

Warning: Consuming of Alcohol. Smut Language (from second half part). My English (is my second language).

Rate: T to M

Words: 1,337 (Finally, I can go back on writing more than 1,000 words!)

A/N: Actually, my hiatus is about sorting which fandom I truly love. Tom Hiddleston's Loki has always been. Also, I've met the amazing @lokisgoodgirl. She writes super grande and magnifique Loki's contents, her mini-series made me in tears. No kidding. Annnnnnnndddd, happy Autumnal Equinox! 😊🍂🍁

🌹Click to My AO3

When you have passed through the frame of the high carved golden door of the banquet hall, when the first music note hits your ears, and the completely decorated colossus hall presents ahead. All the honourable guests – not only from Asgard; the allied Realms, too.

Few attendants, carrying trays with glasses of refreshment and sliced-fruits, walk toward you, offering you these appetizers before the feast begins. You pick a glass of deep red liquid and a bowl of sliced berries as a matter of courtesy. With polite deportment, as it is official; you are the second Prince of Asgard, prince Loki’s lover right now.  

Speaking of your graceful grandeur and lover, you expect him to stand beside Queen Frigga, otherwise hanging out with Thor and friends, or mingling with the guests. Since, he has always been a remarkable entertainer, in almost every feast and banquet.

You look around this great hall with keen sight, yet he appears not, even his very own shadow under golden and silver glittering.

You make your way across the hall, searching throughout the crowd thoroughly. Loki still does not stand in presence anywhere or hides amongst them, though.

Sighing despondently, you stroll near the terrace and hope he might appear later due to the present; King Odin and Prince Thor are nowhere to be seen like Loki.

The large terrace outside, the guests did not loiter and linger on that much. You see only a group of young women gathering together to comfort a woman, who was crying and babbling about how her intended had remorselessly refused to dance with her; four, perhaps five courtiers arguing over advanced scientific theory; and a tall figure leaning over a big column at the dim far side.

You smile. Even in such hazy light, no, much darker place one can barely see, you do always remember your only beloved.

Loki is standing alone. He leans on the column with a book in his hand, that pair of symmetry brows knit together, jawline gritted tightly and did not stand the full length of all his elegance and finery; he was still beautiful. Or more, as small brightness, from a few torches, has glowing on his tall figure and ravenous black sleek locks and hair.

Tonight, he dresses in shining ceremonial attire; armour, breastplate, black and green appearance – adoring with golden rims and lines – with an emerald cape that flies behind along the gentle breeze. A glass of high spirit golden liquor sat on the nearest small table.

If you must verbally describe his appearance right now, you could never complete that task and lose yourself all over him, as always, every single time – no matter who has asked.

While you approach closer to him, a tiny soft smile tugged on his lips, before averting his gaze from that book.

“I know what you're thinking.” His smile gets wider, “Come here, my moon.”

He places a book on the table, extends his arm and hand to catch your free hand. Yours and those slender fingers intertwine together, when another pulling you close to him.

“Don’t you have to entertain the guests, both from Asgard and other realms? Leaving your mother alone with her lady-in-waiting, without King Odin and Thor to nowhere avail on significant festivity, likewise?”

“My mother is more than capable to entertain and get this banquet going on, don’t worry and don’t mind them.”

“But if I do mind…?”

You lift an eyebrow, place a glass and a bowl on the same table, as the corner of your mouth is raising. He chuckles delightedly.

“Eager to acknowledge everything and anything as usual…such a perfect queen for me.”

“Oh, you’re praising me.”

You pretend to be surprised, sliding an index finger onto Loki’s chin; up to his jaw, to his cheekbone.

“You haven’t told me yet.” Now your finger is on his pointy nose. “Concerning All-Father Odin and Prince Thor.”

Loki removes your finger down to his chest instead, holds your hand while kissing your temple.

“Also, I’m suddenly and immediately desire to acknowledge the matter you’ve just read.”

“Then you shall.”

His magic brings you both out of the terrace, disappearing from the feast. Currently, you both are standing on the balcony of his bedchamber.

A deep emerald velvet chaise, along with silk blanket, and big pillows are placed together on a golden trimming carpet – facing the vision below and ahead. Besides, is a carved marble and unknown material table; a jar of fine liquor and two delicate – but gorgeous glasses, more luxurious fruits and desserts than everything at the feast – on the very exquisite silver tray, and other pretty ornaments.

Loki pulls you to sit next to him, skilful fingers undid your elegant hairdo and remove a satin shawl out, before holding you closer. You also notice his cape and ceremonial armour pieces have vanished, leaving only black leather attire on, but now your attention is the view before your eyes.

The scenery from this specific point is remarkable and splendid, much more than the usual state you have seen about a hundred times: ten thousand lights illuminate the city below on Equinox’s night and the Bifrost, as glowing and sparkling as numerous stars and the crescent moon above the dark purple sky.

“So, what preoccupies your father and brother?”

You lean your head on Loki’s shoulder, his large – yet soft – hand circling and rubbing your exposed skin, tenderly and fondly. You close your eyes and let a quiet moan slip out of your mouth, feel the blissfulness and enjoyment gradually creeping inside.

“Thor’s Midgardian lover. Seems like she is unnecessary to All-Father’s will and the feast.” He ceases manoeuvring your bare shoulder, sliding down to snake his arm around your waist.

“Why is your father even bothered and upset? She’s a scientist, despite her knowledge compared to ours, she surely wants to see the equinox from Asgard when the great opportunity is right before her.”

“Indeed, she is.” He starts pressing his nose on your hair. “Now you have your answer, haven’t you?”

Loki’s huskily whispers into your ear, his other hand tilting your head away from the view in front of you both to face him.

“Summer is totally gone, but how can you smell like peony?”

You purr and sigh with contentment, for Loki's nose and lips press at the crook of your neck. Goosebumps arise and send chills down to your spine. And, too, sense his personal scent into your nostrils; rose mixing with balsam poplar – his favourite oils when bathing.

These pleasant fragrances remind you of previous intimate and sensual countless times with Loki, especially while you are positioned under his body. All the memories are clearly and vividly playing in your mind. Curiosity of what he read before has been ignored totally, absolutely, and completely.

Nevertheless, albeit you know he needs to get you lying down – as well as you – still, you desire to indulge yourself with a breathtaking night in his embrace, and your dress on a little longer… Before he throws it away later.

Thus, you signal by grabbing his wrist, to halt him from kissing down and downward; telling him with your smooth voice. Loki irritably huffs in his throat.

“If you hold me any longer, before the moon crosses its current cusp, note this…” He bites your earlobe, as light as a feather. You try to suppress your moan, unfortunately, it fails. “You aren’t going to be allowed to leave my chamber until the day after tomorrow…”

Loki presses your back against an upholstery. Your moan changes into a high-pitched squeak, as he crashes his lips on yours, altogether, unlacing the knots behind your dress in slow rhythm. 

Your breath is hitching – you can barely catch it, wherein Loki twirls his lower lip from yours; dragging down along your chin, base of your neck, your collarbone, and above your breast, respectively. As you feel his clothed length upon your thigh and his invisible smirk over the valley of your cleavage. 

“Too late, my dearest.”

[itjazzbicch]

In My Eyes

Pairing: Usopp x Reader 

First time writing for Usopp, so I hope I did well!

Summary: Buying something Usopp wanted out of kindness and their closeness, the reader only wants to dance with him as his way of paying her back and when a man approaches the reader trying to flirt and insults Usopp, the reader's deeper emotions are revealed when they later confess to one another...

Warnings:  Reader is mentioned to like dancing, Reader is mentioned to have a devil fruit power, Usopp being a little insecure

Word Count: 1.1k 

“Man!”

“What’s the matter, Usopp?”

Exploring through a shopping district, it looks like Usopp found something that caught his eye, explaining to me:

“Look at all this tech! I could make some good stuff with it, but I don’t have enough. Dang it!”

Checking the price tag, I had enough berries, and I knew how much Usopp loved to make gadgets, so I double-checked, pointing to the two devices he wanted:

“It’s these right?”

“Yeah, now let me see,” He was counting his berries, hoping he had miscounted the first time, and while his back was turned, I took them and bought them from the store owner.

He was still counting away whenever I returned, gasping with joy as I tapped his shoulder, holding up the bag I placed them in:

“Here you go!”

“Y/N! You didn’t!”

“I did!” I smiled, handing them over, “I can tell how much you want them, and I have the money, so they’re all yours.”

“You’re the best!” Hugging and squeezing me, it felt good to see him so happy, “As soon as I have the berries, I’ll-“

“You don’t have to pay me back, Usopp. Consider it a gift.”

“Are you sure?”

As he asked that question, something crossed my mind. We headed into town together, and while going to the shopping district, I remember seeing this lovely lounge with a dance floor.

A smile found its way onto my face as an idea came to mind: taking his hand and guiding him through the town to that lounge:

“I know a way you can repay me.”

“A lounge?” Confused as to why we were there. Thankfully, we didn’t have to pay to get in or use the dance floor. So Usopp was able to puzzle the pieces together when I brought him to dance:

“Just dance with me for a bit, yeah?”

“Say less!”

Whether we were good or bad at dancing, it was always a way our whole crew could bond. I cherished every moment like that and was always looking forward to more like it, getting just that in our dance together.

We always lost track of time, and after so much dancing, Usopp asked me over the music:

“Do you at least want a drink or a bite to eat?”

He was still trying to pay me back, but I laughed and swatted at him, only playing around:

“I don’t have any more money on me! But I have you, so c’mon! Let’s keep dancing!”

“Seriously! What do you want?” He was persistent, and he did have some berries on him, so I shrugged:

“If they have lemonade, that’d be nice.”

“On it!”

While he went to get me a drink, I was still lost in the music, not paying to the drunk guy who had their eyes on me:

“Want a real man to dance with, young thing?”

“Hard pass. Beat it,” Shooing them away with my hand; I was still swaying and humming, that guy still bugging me:

“C’mon! You have an opportunity for a good night now that loser you were dancing with is gone! Just-“

Usopp was my best friend, and I would never tolerate any slander of his name from anyone, let alone some drunk asshole who was also trying to take me up on top of that.

“I said-“ Taking a deep breath, I knew that this would probably get us in trouble, using my devil fruit powers to send him flying clear across the street, “BEAT IT!”

Everyone on the whole block stopped what they were doing to see what had happened, and after realizing I had destroyed a part of the lounge, I chuckled nervously, running to steal Usopp and bail:

“SORRY ABOUT THAT!”

We ran till we were back at the shore by the Sunny; out of breath, I was hunched over for air, saying to Usopp:

“I am sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Not the first time we’ve gotten ourselves into trouble,” He sighed, relatively quiet but having something for me, “Here’s your lemonade.”

“Woah, you didn’t spill even a drop!” I couldn’t believe it, given how much we were running, surely needing it, and showing my gratitude with a smile, “You’re the best.”

Taking it for a drink, it was so refreshing and freshly squeezed too, but Usopp’s quietness was making me wonder:

“I didn’t upset you by causing a scene or anything, did it?”

“No, of course not,” That was certain, and thankfully, he didn’t hide the truth from me, mumbling out, “It’s just-; What do you see in a loser like me?”

I hated when he talked bad about himself despite all of the things we accomplished on this long, wild journey of ours, keeping my ears open as he vented:

“I heard what that guy said, and I just don’t know what you see in me compared to all the guys in the world that you could have easily.”

He was staring at the ground while I was staring at him, waiting for him to meet my gaze as a cooed:

“What do I see in the guy who’s always been here for me, always makes me smile, has saved me, and protects me no matter what?”

Finally, he looked me in the eye, swelling up with tears as my smile grew, meaning with all my heart:

“I see a lot, and none have anything to do with being a loser.”

“Y/N-“ He was fighting a lot of emotions, so I hugged his head, admitting to him so he knew the only thing that mattered in all of this:

“I don’t just like you. I love you, Usopp.”

Squeezing me tight as he hugged me back, I could feel his passion for me, and I showed all I had for him as I squeezed back.

“And if you still have any doubts,” Taking a deep breath, my lips found his, and it was the cherry on top.

I felt a tear leak from my eye, my confession rattling my nerves a little, but I could feel the perfection between us as we kissed, soft pecks in between long, feverish presses.

Given we were in a hug, I could feel how hard his heart was beating, parting lips with a gasp, turning because of the fluster his reaction gave me.

“I know that was so sudden. I-“

“No,” Shaking his head quickly and taking a deep breath, “Just kiss me again.”

Giving another deep kiss, my heart was pounding like a drum, lost and playing with his curls, only stopping because I was out of breath again.

“You’re a great kisser, you know?” I meant that wholeheartedly; his puffed, flustered cheeks were so adorable.

“They don’t call me great for nothing!” He chuckled nervously, making me giggle, nuzzling against his chest as I agreed:

“The greatest, Usopp.” 

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome 

[sea-owl]

Ohhhh if you’re taking writing prompts how about enemy chefs to lovers Polin?

Before I get into this, let me clarify that I am of the belief that if they don't try to kill each other at least once, then it's not enemies to lovers. Now that that's out of the way, this gives me an idea. Also partly inspired by @thekatebridgerton post of the siblings being embodiments of the 7 (8) deadly sins.

Penelope grew up in a family where every generation, one child would be born to be eaten by the gluttonoust demon whose domain bordered her family's ancestral lands. Well technically they were raised to be the one who cooks for the demon but when it always ends with them being devoured instead it doesn't really matter does it?

Typically, this role should have been taken on by the second born, Penelope's older sister Philippa, but instead, Penelope's mother had convinced her father to make Penelope the sacrifice instead.

"You're smarter than your sisters," Portia had told her the night it was announced. "Clever. If any of you have a chance of killing the demon it is you Penelope."

From that point on, Penelope learned how to make different dishes from things like mince pies, biscuits, and her personal favorite eclairs. She knows how to prep all different kinds of meat from farm raised animals to game to fish. She knows which fruits are ripe and which still need time. Portia made sure Penelope knew how to use a knife and which plants mixed well for flavor and which would end a life if mixed together.

"Remember, Gluttony will always want to consume more," Portia would remind her daughter. "There is no such thing as never enough."

Finally, on the day of her 18th birthday, the day came where Penelope would present her first meal to the demon. She decided to go with a fish covered in a basil and lemon cream sauce. Some roasted potatoes and vegetables. A loaf of dark bread, wine, and mixed berry eclairs for dessert.

All that was left was to bring it to the forest and pray he eats it instead of her. Carefully, she packed everything into a basket. She had to be at there by sunrise after all.

"Pen wait!" Penelope's youngest sister, Felicity, called out. The eleven year old ran down the stairs with a package in her arms.

"Litty!" Penelope exclaimed. "What are you doing awake? The sun has yet to rise."

"I wanted to give you your birthday present," Felicity said, holding up the package.

Penelope set her stuff down and carefully opened the gift. Inside was a beautiful set of kitchen knives. Every single one sharp and ready for use. "Oh Litty."

Felicity hugged her sister. "The blacksmith promised me they are extra sharp. So maybe, maybe you can come home soon."

Penelope hugged her sister tighter. Even if she could get rid of the demon it wasn't guaranteed she live too.

"I'll try," Penelope promised.

That seemed to be good enough for the eleven year old as she gave Penelope one last hug before waving her off.

In the forest, where Penelope was to meet her new master sat a table directly over the border between her family's lands and the demons. It is where her relatives in the past have presented their first and often times last meal to the demon of Gluttony.

It is where Penelope sets up the meal as the first rays of light spill across the land behind her. It is also where Penelope sees her new master for the first time.

Gluttony honestly looks like any other man Penelope has seen, a rather handsome one, but still a man. Penelope would put him at around 6 feet with dark chestnut hair and green eyes. His beauty, though, screamed dangerous to Penelope. Like a poisonous snake whose pretty colors serve as a warning to the venom they carry.

Now that snake sat across from Penelope at the table.

"Ah are you my new mortal?" Gluttony asked.

Penelope bowed her head. "Penelope Featherington, my lord."

The demon picked up the fork Penelope placed and dug in. He let out a moan tasting the food. "Delicious, and thank you for not poisoning it like some of your other relatives."

Well that's one plan Penelope shouldn't rely on.

Gluttony bit into the eclair. "Are you not eating?"

Penelope shook her head. This had to be some sort of test, right? Gluttony doesn't share. "No, my lord, I know sharing food isn't something you do."

Gluttony's eyes lit up. "I don't share huh?"

Penelope found herself on her back, staring up into green eyes. A piece of the eclair was being pressed into her lips. The same piece that Gluttony held in his own lips.

What is he doing? Gluttony always wants more so what is he getting more of out of this?!

Penelope found herself frozen on the grass. She tries to command her hand to reach for anything that can help her. She can't breathe. She opens her mouth to take a deep breath, but that only entices Gluttony to push the eclair further in.

Penelope felt her hand brush against her basket. Somehow, she reaches inside and grabs the handle of one of Felicity's gifts. Her grip firmly secured Penelope plunges the knife into the demon's side.

Gluttony, still on top of Penelope looks down at his side.

Oh shit. Well, she's definitely getting eaten.

"Lord Gluttony I-"

Penelope is cut off by the demon's chuckle.

"Gluttony is my sister," the demon said, looking back down at Penelope. Without even flinching he pulled out the knife. "I'm Wrath."

Penelope's eyes widen. "But the food-"

The demon Wrath only smirked. "I'm a growing boy, and you mortals have such delicious food."

Colin grinned down at the little mortal underneath him. Oh, she had no idea of the courting ritual she just initiated by stabbing him. He's going to have fun playing with her.

[veevz-drawz]

DoaHD | Entry 2: But Tea Time with Friends is the Best

A/N: hey remember when i said i would upload biweekly? yeah so that was a lie LMAO. anyways sorry for literally uploading a month after, i was busy moving and switch to working full time;; (and working on a zine :0!) but i've been getting used to the schedule change so hopefully updates will be more consistent now!

Taglist: @minecraftninjerkid (DM if you would like to be added!)

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The summer months were never Strawberry Tea Cookie’s cup of tea.

It was so oppressively humid. The consistent moisture never failed to soak through her dough, making it intolerably soft and sticky. Her curly locks always flatten the minute she stepped out of Strawberry Mansion, with the glaze holding her hair up immediately dissolving upon contact with the damp atmosphere.

However, on this day, the Great Witches seemed to have taken pity on the former heiress, sending waves of cooling wind across the kingdom after hearing of yesterday’s misfortunes.

The breeze traveled deep within Hollyberry Palace, carrying ballads of rustling leaves and songbird melodies past pristinely kept rose gardens and winding bush mazes. It softly brushed past four cookies huddled around a tea table, careful as to not disturb their conversation.

Strawberry Tea Cookie was situated under the protective shade of a berry palm tree, recounting what happened between sips of refreshing fruit tea. Princess Cookie and Wildberry Cookie basked under the oven-hot sunlight, listening to their friend intently— the former more visibly angry. Knight Cookie stood beside his princess, insisting to keep his post despite the chair offered to him.

“...And now I’m no longer heiress,” Strawberry Tea Cookie sighed, placing her now empty cup back on its saucer. Dread crept through her dough like mycelium across a dish of rotten fruit. If the weight of her parents’ decision hadn’t hit her last night, it certainly did now after she told her friends everything.

“How dare they!” Princess Cookie huffed. “Your parents had no right to do that!”

She turned to her retainer for affirmation, which he gave in the form of a quick nod and a “yes princess!”

“I agree, it’s strange that they would forfeit your position like this,” Wildberry Cookie commented.

“Yeah! You practically launched House Strawberry into high fashion!” Princess Cookie added. “That alone makes you more than deserving of that spot!”

Strawberry Tea Cookie leaned back into her chair, remorse pulling her mouth down into a slight frown. “I… Don’t think that mattered to them.”

The designer agreed that this achievement alone should’ve solidified her place as heiress. She clearly remembered the proud look in her parents’ eyes when FragariA debuted during Hollyberry Fashion Week, its popularity instantly skyrocketing to rival established oat couture powerhouses such as House Blueberry.

A fresh wave of betrayal snapped open the wounds she had stitched up the night prior, her sullen expression digging deeper into her features. “I just… Don’t smile like the rest of my family.”

Strawberry Tea Cookie’s brows furrowed, her previous emotions washed away by resentment. From the moment she was born, House Strawberry’s intertwined principles of creativity and expression were emphasized in every aspect of her life. She studied every immaculately painted portrait lining Strawberry Mansion’s walls, was tutored by the best artists in the Hollyberry Kingdom, and attended the same kingdom’s most prestigious fashion institute.

Yet she will take drawing a naked cookie for eight hours straight in the smallest, most dingiest studio over being forced to smile and laugh like the rest of her family members.

Growing up surrounded by creativity also meant that she was constantly criticized for her lack of emotion, which her family never failed to remind her of. Yet she always believed that forcing expression countered creativity. Acting happy impedes one’s ability to connect with where art fundamentally came from— their true feelings. Plus, Strawberry Tea Cookie would argue that her defiance was still a form of expression, much to her parents’ dismay.

Sure, disobedience was undesirable within her family circle, but what’s the problem if that’s what she truly felt? She couldn’t possibly perform at her best if all her family wanted were soft smiles and saccharine words towards their benefactors.

Then the realization sank in, pulled down by a heavy peach pit as horror blew out her frosted pupils. “...And that’s the problem…”

“That’s not true and you know it!” Princess Cookie practically jumped from her seat, grabbing Strawberry Tea Cookie and pulling her closer from across the table—into the light. “You are perfect the way you are, Peach Jam Cookie’s words mean nothing!”

“They meant nothing until my parents agreed with her,” Strawberry Tea Cookie argued, voice cracking as she retracted back into the shadows, holding herself close. “And what father said…” 

Bare minimum. Incapable of expression. Too spoiled.

“He’s right, I’m far from a good heiress.”

If showing up to family dinners was a rare occasion, then attending parties hosted by other nobles was something that didn’t even occur on a blue moon. She found them to be a waste of time that otherwise could have been used on building FragariA’s name.

Yet they were excellent opportunities to network, as her parents constantly stressed, but Strawberry Tea Cookie found no use in it. She already had strong connections with the royal family and a few notable designers, there wasn’t any use for more besides maintaining the ones her family already forged.

Ones that she has actively destroyed due to her inactivity.

In retrospect, the designer should have put more care into strengthening these precious relationships— she only did when her parents implored her to. Perhaps she naively believed that they would remain static for years to come.

Though, if she were to be completely honest with herself, it was because those cookies weren’t all too interesting to talk to. But that excuse was leagues more fragile than her cousin’s ego.

“Don’t tell me they brought up Blueberry Raisin Cookie too?” Princess Cookie asked heatedly. “Removing him from your life was the best choice you could’ve made!”

“Your aunt already crossed the line by mentioning him.” Wildberry Cookie stated, an annoyed inflection edging his tone.

“No, thankfully they didn’t.” Strawberry Tea Cookie sighed. She would have truly snapped if they did. “But, I think they were referencing other events…”

The fighting finally died down after what seemed like a millennium, leaving the once elegant banquet table an absolute mess. Strawberry Tea Cookie stepped over scattered silverware and shattered plates, grimacing when she accidentally stepped on a piece of sticky cake. She sat down on a nearby chair, watching as cookies regained their senses.

What a great start to the Princess Contest.

The designer was still dumbfounded by the amount of cookies who drank the punch after seeing it turn a different color— they didn’t even listen to her warnings when she made said observation! She was left stuck on the sidelines watching the feast turn into a battle royale until whatever was mixed into the punch wore off.

“Whew! I need a break.” Princess Cookie sighed tiredly, slouching next to Strawberry Tea Cookie. She looked worse for wear, but her dress was still impressively intact— as expected of the true Hollyberry Princess.

“Why are cookies always fighting,” she bemoaned. “It’s not fun, AND it’s exhausting!”

“How dare you, that is an insult to the noble House Raspberry!” Raspberry Cookie proclaimed, pointing her candy cane blade towards the two. “We have built our culture and wealth with nothing but the tips of our swords!”

Strawberry Tea Cookie and Princess Cookie exchanged confused looks with each other. But while the latter seemed only bewildered, the former was growing ever more annoyed with the pompous raspberry heiress.

“And how exactly is that an insult?” Strawberry Tea Cookie questioned, standing up and shielding Princess Cookie. Not only had Raspberry Cookie called her friend “unimpressive” earlier, it now seemed she was just cherry-picking—or rather, raspberry-picking—a reason to confront her.

“Fighting is what molded us!” The noble fencer explained fiercely. “What brought us above the other Cookie Houses!”

“Yet here you are, needing a silly Princess Contest to prove your family’s worth,” the designer shot back, eliciting an indignant gasp from her opponent. “House Raspberry is far past its glory days, it’s evident from the way you’re so desperate to undermine Princess Cookie.”

Now that was an insult, not a harmless comment her friend made.

“You just insulted the great deeds of my ancestors,” Raspberry Cookie furiously cried. “Who risked every speck of flour in their bodies upon their blade.”

Strawberry Tea Cookie had to fight every grain of sugar in her body to not openly roll her eyes.

“I demand an apology, here and now!” The raspberry fencer ordered, pointing her rapier towards the irritated designer. “Strawberry Tea Cookie, I challenge you to a duel!”

“Hold up!” Princess Cookie interjected, standing up and marching towards Raspberry Cookie. “This is MY battle,” she declared with determination, swinging her scepter to match the stance of Raspberry Cookie’s sword. “And it’s time for me to find out what kind of dough she’s made of!”

“You were defending her highness’s honor!” Knight Cookie interjected. “I see nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah! And I really appreciate you supporting me throughout the Princess Contest,” Princess Cookie chimed in. “Plus, you apologized to Raspberry Cookie after, right?”

Strawberry Tea Cookie shook her head shamefully, her mother had to apologize on her behalf. She didn’t miss the way Princess Cookie’s expression shifted subtly.

“And that’s not even the worst of it,” the designer lamented. “I permanently severed ties with House Blueberry after I made Blueberry Cookie cry during that one ball.”

Fate seemed to have it out for Strawberry Tea Cookie that evening, being forced to face Blueberry Raisin Cookie’s granddaughter only a short month after being dismissed by him.

The young blueberry noble looked undeniably nervous under the designer’s scrutinizing gaze, a stark contrast from her usual bubbly self. 

“Spit it out.” Strawberry Tea Cookie demanded frigidly. Cookies began gathering around the two out of concern and curiosity, surrounding them like a blinding spotlight. Blueberry Cookie glanced at the crowd anxiously, stuttering out jumbles of unintelligible words.

The strawberry heiress couldn’t care less.

Out of patience, she walked past the trembling noble, purposely bumping against the other’s shoulder. “Wasting my time just like your grandfather, good to know that it runs in your family’s dough.” She remarked tartly.

That seemed to set Blueberry Cookie off. “Why are you so mean!?” She shakily blurted out, so loud that it cut all conversation and music in the ballroom. “I was just trying to apologize for what Grandpa did!” 

Strawberry Tea Cookie’s jam stilled. She turned around, the hot tears running down Blueberry Cookie’s face biting through the heiress’s hardened expression. Every sob-induced hiccup and whimper pounded more guilt within, grinding it into her very dough like she was trapped in a mortar and pestle.

Blueberry Cookie ran off before the designer could utter an apology, leaving the crowd’s scornful gaze solely on her.

Judgemental murmurs filled the room as Strawberry Tea Cookie’s face grew hot with embarrassment and shame. The sea of ornate ball gowns slowly melted into a tall, amorphous wave of burnt caramel, yet she could still feel the contemptuous heat radiating from each individual cookie.

The spotlight was all on her now.

“Why does Lady Blueberry Cookie have to apologize anyways?” A voice whispered.

Strawberry Tea Cookie glanced at the direction Blueberry Cookie ran off to. If she’s quick, she could probably catch up to her and apologize– she didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of the designer’s frustrations.

“No, no, Lady Blueberry Cookie was apologizing on behalf of Sir Blueberry Raisin Cookie.” Another cookie corrected.

“But he’s such an upstanding cookie!”

That caught the heiress’s attention. All plans of apologizing flew out the window with that single phrase alone.

Upstanding? They can’t be serious.

“I heard she was so difficult to deal with that Sir Blueberry Raisin Cookie dismissed her as his apprentice.”

Strawberry Tea Cookie turned to face the gossiping cookies, anger threatening to boil over. They were glaring right back at her, as if wanting her to hear their absurd rumors.

“I’m not surprised, given how she acted with Lady Blueberry Cookie.”

This was ridiculous.

“Well maybe if he wasn’t such a gross wretch, she wouldn’t need to apologize in the first place!” The words just slipped out of her mouth– a culmination of months worth of resentment and stress.

The entire ballroom collectively, and dramatically, gasped at Strawberry Tea Cookie’s statement. A surge of indignant shouts rose after the brief silence, drowning out all attempts at explaining herself. 

Strawberry Tea Cookie was tired. Tired of this ball, tired of her family, and especially tired of maintaining that geriatric raisin’s reputation for the sake of public relations.

The heiress rushed to get out of the limelight, wading through the massive ocean of angry cookies towards an exit— an escape.

“House Strawberry’s relationship with House Blueberry was already a thread away from snapping,” Strawberry Tea Cookie sighed, burying her face into her palms. “I completely severed it that night.”

She made such a huge mess that not even her family’s extensive connections could clean it up. House Blueberry refused any contact, turning away Strawberry Tea Cookie and her parents when she tried entering their estate.

For months, the former heiress couldn’t show her face in public without hearing the scrutinizing whispers of cookies nearby. She had to endure her relatives complaining about the endless rumors at social gatherings— not to mention the arguments that ensued after.

“Crumbs, and now my cousin is heir,” Strawberry Tea Cookie cried. “That means House Strawberry will belong to the Peach Clan, and who knows what will happen afterwards.” Strawberry Sugar Cookie’s stagnant view on art and Peach Jam Cookie’s… personality were already concerning enough. She couldn’t possibly imagine what would happen if the Peach Clan got their sticky hands on her house. “Great Ancients, what do I do?”

How could she possibly fix this? Would her parents even consider giving back her inheritance? Just how long ago did they decide Strawberry Sugar Cookie would take her place?

“You’ll figure something out.” A strong, warm hand grasped Strawberry Tea Cookie’s shoulder. She looked up to meet Wildberry Cookie’s comforting gaze. “I know you wouldn’t let this go without a fight.”

“Yeah! You’re THE Strawberry Tea Cookie after all!” Princess Cookie added, wrapping her arms around the designer.

“The Princess has her faith in you,” Knight Cookie exclaimed. “You better not fail!”

“Thanks, you guys.” The designer smiled, uplifted by their encouragement.

But what should she do..?

“Oh! Isn’t Hollyberry Fashion Week coming up in a few months?” Princess Cookie perked up. “This would be the perfect time to prove you’re the rightful heir!”

“A comeback during one of the biggest events in the Hollyberry Kingdom…” Strawberry Tea Cookie thought for a moment. “That’s a really good idea.”

If she were to come up with a collection so compelling that it got cookies talking about her again, she could revive FragariA’s popularity and skyrocket the brand back to the top. At the same time, she’ll work on mending those severed connections while also forming new ones. That would hopefully demonstrate to her parents that she’s more than capable of taking over House Strawberry. Determination filled her jam, and for a brief moment, she felt there was hope in this situation.

But there was still one problem…

“What do I base this collection off of..?” There’s a reason why Strawberry Tea Cookie hasn’t participated in Hollyberry Fashion Week in almost two years, let alone released any new designs. She had simply exhausted all sources of inspiration in the Hollyberry Kingdom. Worse yet, it seemed that the more time she spent stuck here, the more creativity drained out of her.

“Why don’t you go traveling?” Wildberry Cookie suggested. “You have been burnt out for quite some time, perhaps a change in scenery could bring new ideas.”

“That’s true, but where have I not gone to?” Strawberry Tea Cookie pondered. She had made collections based on all the nearby regions, and reusing ideas wouldn’t garner the necessary attention for her brand.

“Wait, what about that Isle of Tea collection you made years ago?” Princess Cookie mentioned. “It was so pretty, but you never released it...”

“Considering how much of a fuss my parents made when I showed off just one of the dresses, I doubt they would allow it,” Strawberry Tea Cookie sighed. It was a shame, that collection was genuinely her favorite— her magnum opus, even. “I should refrain from arguing with them anyways.”

This left the trio–or quartet when counting Knight Cookie–stumped. The designer considered writing to Mont Blanc Cookie for some help, perhaps arranging a short visit to the Cookie Kingdom so she could get some inspiration.

“...Her Majesty, Hollyberry Cookie, and I have been invited back to the Crème Republic to celebrate its reconstruction,” Wildberry Cookie brought up. “Perhaps you could join us.”

“Isn’t the Crème Republic on the other side of Crispia?” Strawberry Tea Cookie queried, she was reluctant to travel that far when Hollyberry Fashion Week was just around the corner. It would take a couple of weeks alone just to figure out the logistics. However, she couldn’t deny her curiosity regarding the city-state. The snippets Wildberry Cookie shared of its culture and architecture piqued her interest back then, so perhaps risking the trip could rekindle that spark.

Anything to become heiress again.

“Would Her Majesty allow me to tag along?” The designer asked.

“Of course, she always enjoys the extra company,” Wildberry Cookie reassured. “…And she’ll probably use this as an opportunity to get her hands on more strawberry juice.” The dread in his tone was apparent.

“Then I’ll be sure to procure House Strawberry’s finest bottle,” Strawberry Tea Cookie chuckled. “When are you two planning to depart?”

“A week from today.”

Strawberry Tea Cookie’s eyes widened in surprise. A week? There’s no way she could arrange travel plans that quickly, even with the help of the Strawberry Estate staff.

“I’m aware it’s rather last minute,” the retainer admitted. “But don’t worry, I will make sure accommodations are arranged for you when we arrive.”

“Thank you,” the designer smiled, bowing her head towards Wildberry Cookie in gratitude. “Then I suppose I shall start packing.”

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

What kind of drunk would the villagers of SDV be? 👀

Heh, it was so funny to write the answer to this ask right after my own hangover. Quite the experience, I would say 😅

I hope, anon, you don't mind if I don't write about Evelyn and George and the kids on this ask, because trying to imagine them drunk... is an unpleasant thought for me. But I will describe all the others (if I do not forget about someone). Thanks for your ask! ❤️

Drunk SDV villagers (except Evelyn, George and kids):

Oh what music! After 3 or 4 glasses of sambuca, Emily feels much more energetic (even more than usual) and simply has to find a potential victim partner to dance until they both fall to exhaustion. In the morning, however, she does not remember anything.

In general, Sebastian despises the taste of alcohol, but somehow he decided to try something like Amaretto coffee or Irish coffee (basically coffee with liqueur or whiskey). Yuck, Sebby didn't appreciate it. The taste of alcohol is terrible and now he feels sleepy and weak. And he can't ride his motorcycle in that condition. It sucks, now he's a mischievous and sleepy drunk.

Jodi is always busy cleaning the house and cooking, so she has almost no time to relax. But if she does get a chance to have a glass of wine with Caroline and Marnie, then she will be more cheerful and a little more chatty, nothing hardcore.

Preferring more green tea and coffee, Caroline, however, also agrees to hang out with friends with the bottle of something strong. Being slightly drunk from a couple of glasses of wine, Caroline will chuckle at her friends' every joke, and may even decide to order a stronger drink. True, all the energy leaves quickly and she immediately becomes drowsy drunk.

Cheerful and energetic, Abigail is ready to conquer mountains after a few strong cocktails. A drunk girl teeters on the edge of "noisy party soul" and "I'm ready to get into any fight for my homies." Luckily, she's not drunk enough to stubbornly go into the mines with a sword in her condition.

Marnie, having drunk about 5 glasses of wine, becomes flirty drunk. And Lewis's slightly angry comments about the fact that she can work on their secret relationship does not bother her at all. It's been a long time since she felt so cheerful and carefree, just like when she was young, ah...

Lewis, meanwhile, teeters somewhere between "paranoid drunk" and "sleazy drunk." At his age, it's not very useful to drink so much alcohol, and now to keep an eye on Marnie, who, as he thinks, will now blather everything about the two of them to everyone. Damn it, you can rest calmly without worries, you old fart.

Let's race, who's faster? Or let's fight on the hands? Alex wants the competition to prove that even though he's a little tipsy, he's still the best. Although the next day he will be ashamed if during the fun he broke some dishes or chair, and apologize to everyone.

Shane canonically is a depressed drunk. He sits in a corner of the Saloon and drinks mostly alone. Please don't touch him, otherwise he will transform from a depressed drunk into an angry drunk. And you definitely don't want to see Shane drunk AND angry.

If the Saloon has karaoke, then Elliott will be always there after drinking mugs of strong ale or wine. Apart from his loud singing, he becomes reckless enough to spontaneously do anything. Gus or the others often help Elliott get home before the failed singer (sorry Elliott, but you write so much better than you sing) hurts himself or others. The poor guy would later lock himself up in his cabin for a couple of days when he found out about his drunken adventures.

After an extra drink, Sam suddenly becomes overly affectionate and touchy-feely. In a state of intoxication, it seems to him that he did not hug someone enough, or that he was not hugged enough. Hug him please, he's like a little puppy.

Linus doesn't drink alcohol, but sometimes in the harvest seasons in the forest he often comes across fermented fruits and berries. Linus almost always processes them carefully before eating so that he doesn't get more intoxicated during dinner, but sometimes he can occasionally eat some raw fermented grapes before bed. He perfectly understands which fruits are more fermented or less. But he treats this without fanaticism, because the main goal is to eat, not get drunk.

"What if? No, it's impossible. But what if I use that formula, and... Nah, it still won't work. But what if I... No no no. Or maybe yes? Or maybe..." The constant ebb and flow of ideas for new inventions is a typical behavior for Maru when she has a drink that is quite strong for her. This will continue until she falls asleep. It is good that her brother is nearby and help her.

Ah, for old Willy there's nothing better than a bottle of mead after a hard day of fishing. So to speak, to celebrate a successful catch. He most often drinks alone, even when in the Saloon, but can occasionally tell his fishing stories to Marlon, Gil, or Clint with a few drinks. And no matter how much he drinks, he will remain the same. Honestly, as if in the mug not alcohol, but just water!

Penny will never touch a drink, but there was a case when she accidentally drank Sam's cocktail, confusing it with her glass of juice. She immediately became sloppy drunk, embarrassed by her condition and making haste to get home. Penny doesn't understand how her mother can enjoy such a state.

Oh, the doctor knows that in small doses, wine can even be beneficial to the body. But when, by coincidence, Harvey has to drink more than his body can handle, then this is a complete blackout. He doesn't remember anything and prays that he did not do anything obscene.

Pam is an aggressive drunk. This is even more noticeable when her order for another beer is delayed by more than five minutes. Mostly this is a verbal skirmish, Pam will not show physical aggression (unless it concerns her daughter. For her sake, she will grab anyone by the throat, and she does not need alcohol for this).

Usually Wizard is always strict about alcohol, but there are times when you just want to get drunk. Given that he always drinks alone, he is most often sad drunk, remembering the old days when he and his ex were still together. If anyone (Farmer) wants to console him, then let them mentally prepare for an hour-long story about his ex-wife, youth, and that "the grass used to be greener."

Marlon will also remember the old days with a glass of whiskey along with Gil, but unlike the same Wizard, Marlon's stories are more filled with fun and excitement. Usually he is strict and silent, but when a little drunk, he opens up a little more, with his comrade remembering their adventures when the young guys just embarked on the path of an adventurer. These old people deserve some rest and fun.

Pierre considers a couple of strong cocktails a well-deserved reward after a hard week at work. The alcohol in his blood makes him more talkative, but now his tongue is tangled up so that you no longer understand whether Pierre asked to repeat the order, or somehow insulted you.

The last cocktail was obviously superfluous, but Haley didn't care. She wants to have fun, and why is the music so quiet, and let's all dance, and she already changed her mind don't touch her, and anyway where is her other cocktail? Cheerful, energetic, but at the same time more capricious - this is how it goes.

Kent has been very wary of drinking since he returned to Stardew Valley. After all he's been through, it's very easy to drown at the bottom of the bottle, and he doesn't want to get to that point. He still has his family. So he asks Gus, Marlon or Willy to stop him if he gets depressed drunk after a mug of beer or two.

Ah, the tango began to play in the music machine! Robin will not miss the opportunity to dance with her husband to passionate music. She usually asks her husband, but after a few sips of ale, Robin pulled Demetrius off the table and onto the dance floor with almost one tug.

The same Demetrius, after drinking, was very sleepy, but the whole life flashed before the eyes of the poor scientist, when his dearest wife grabbed his hand and he heard the words "tango". Demetrius loves Robin and will not refuse her a dance, but still, a strong drink affected the scientist's vestibular apparatus, and he dances no better than a rag doll. But it looks funny Maru and Sebastian will definitely film this on camera as compromising evidence for the future.

Clint has a fairly high tolerance for alcohol, so he probably drinks almost every day. Even in the cinema, he manages to smuggle alcohol under the guise of Joja Cola. So you can call him secret drunk: no matter how much he drinks, he does not look drunk. Just like Willy.

[bloodfin]

planning out this menu for next week so of course thinking about the ghouls and their kitchen/food habits

dew loves sweet, crunchy treats. kettle corn, frozen chocolates, chocolate covered nuts. anything sweet that will leave a trail of crumbs will do. what he hates, however, is dishes, so he'll do anything possible to avoid making more, including using a paper towel as a makeshift plate (this of course leads to more mess, and mountain has nearly banned him from the space on several occasions)

rain loves spicy foods. ordering thai? he's requesting level 5 spicy, with extra chili paste on the side. loves to chase spice-intolerant dew around offering kisses after. he has too many teeth, so he won't touch stringy foods like celery. in the kitchen, he will clean as he goes, but never remembers where to put the spatulas or whisks so good luck figuring out which drawer he plopped them in

mountain also has a sweet tooth, but more for cakes and cookies. his baking is rivaled only by sunshine, and they'll tackle the most difficult recipes together to make actual magic. also makes the best ✨️special✨️ treats with his home-grown stash. extremely clean and organized; everyone knows better than to bother him in the kitchen, choosing to sit and observe at the island instead. if they're extra good, he'll slide them a sample

swiss loves savory and crunchy snacks. chips, pretzels, extra toasty cheeze-its. mountain made him savory trail mix once and now he asks for a pound of it every yule. will keep the kitchen pretty tidy, but has an unfortunate habit of forgetting to close the cabinets he opens and has bonked himself on more than one occasion. also known to make anything into leftover sandwiches that have no right to be as tasty as they are

aether is a grill dad. grilling is peaceful for him, plus it keeps his hands warm. loves a good classic burger, or a grilled chicken salad, definitely a savory guy. there could be a foot of snow outside, and aeth will be lighting the grill up for dinner without complaint. he's still learning to use the smoker, ever the perfectionist, but no one is complaining about eating the "messed up" brisket that doesn't quite fall apart when you poke it

aurora is the soup queen. loves eating soup, making soup; all soup, all the time. the den has a lot of mouths to feed so mountain made her a special step stool to help her see more easily into the massive kitchen stock pot while she cooks. her favorite to eat (but least favorite to make) is cauliflower soup, it's creamy and delicious, but every time she uses an immersion blender the ceiling gets as much soup as she does

sunshine also loves baking. her favorite is a classic raspberry french macaron and she has perfected the technique - it's impressive. phantom loves to watch her cook in particular, she's so clean and precise, they hope one day to hold a measuring cup like she does. sunshine is a bit more patient in the kitchen, showing whoever is watching little tips and tricks. wears the cutest floral apron, almost always covered in flour handprints

cumulus is all about fruits and berries, loves citrus and blackberries the best. mountain painstakingly cares for a little tangerine tree, just for her. her favorite foods to make are comfort foods, and she always makes the macaroni and cheese for big group dinners. everyone begs for it (and rain doesn't even add hot sauce), but she is definitely one of the messier cooks. everyone knows she has been in the kitchen when there are wrappers left about, little twist ties on the counter. the pack doesn't mind terribly, not when her dishes could cure any emotional wound

cirrus is all about cold, sweet snacks. loves ice cream and popsicles, the freezer is well stocked. her favorite is orange pushpops, and she will take exactly zero questions about it. works with great efficiency in the kitchen, and will often be the one planning dinner party menus with mountain. that, and which special snack he should make next. her specific cooking talent is bread, in particular sourdough. she made a cinnamon bread once that made dew cream his pants, he still hasn't lived it down

phantom burned water once, never tried cooking again. loves to wear a thrifted shrek shirt, "in the morning, im making waffles." they aren't, they barely use the toaster, but they'll make puppy eyes at mountain until he sighs and starts getting the batter ready. will eat anything anyone feeds them, but has an extra soft spot for those cloyingly sweet white puffy sugar cookies with bright colored frosting and sprinkles. the first time they had one was halloween, and they insisted on saving all the bat sprinkles

[natsuki-bakery]

⁎˚ ఎ CG! Ash Ketchum ໒ ˚⁎

Could I please get an Ash Ketchum (Pokémon) caregiver headcannons please ? (Thank you!! :D)

•"Hey there, buddy! Ready for an adventure? We could explore the backyard and see what cool things we can find !"

•Ash brings his boundless energy and enthusiasm into his caregiving. He’s always ready to engage in fun activities, whether it’s a game, an adventure outside, or imaginative play

•He encourages curiosity and exploration. He loves taking his little one on mini-adventures, teaching them about different Pokémon, nature, and the importance of discovery

•He’s a natural motivator, always cheering you and encouraging yoy to try new things. He believes in the power of positivity and never hesitates to offer words of encouragement

•He’s great at coming up with games, from pretend Pokémon battles to treasure hunts, making every day exciting and fun

•Dada Ash understands the importance of responsibility, often teaching you how to care for your toys or pretend Pokémon, mirroring his own care for his Pokémon team

•While Ash can be excitable, he’s also patient and understanding. He knows that everyone learns and grows at their own pace and provides gentle guidance and support when needed

•He introduces friendly competition through games and activities, teaching the value of good sportsmanship and the joy of participating rather than just winning

•"You’re doing great, love ! Just keep trying, and remember, it’s all about having fun !"

•Nutritious Snacks : Just like how he takes care of his own health during his travels, Dada Ash ensures his sweetheart eats healthy snacks. He might even share some of his own favorites, like fruits and berries he finds on his adventures

•"Time for a healthy snack, sunshine ! How about some delicious berries? They’ll give you the energy for our next adventure !"

•Bedtime Routine: Ash has a comforting bedtime routine. He might share a story about a Pokémon adventures, cuddle up with a plush Pikachu, and ensure his little one feels safe and loved as they drift off to sleep

•Pika-Caregiver would notice right away if his little one was feeling down and would approach you with genuine concern

•"Hey, buddy, you seem a little down. Wanna talk about it ?"

•He would offer physical comfort, like a gentle pat on the back or a hug, to provide reassurance when you feel depressed

•If you're is bored, Ketchum would spring into action with a variety of fun and engaging activities to keep you entertained : Arts and Crafts, Cooking together, games and puzzles

If you're in the basic criteria , are DSMP fans, vivziep0p fans , h0tel/h3lluva b0ss fans, Owl h0use fans, St4r butterfly fans, Ghibli fans, ddlg/abdl blogs, nsfw/k!nk blogs, anti-agere blogs, or anti Christians/Christianity blogs : just dont interact !

[meluiloth]

Just saw your post for the greenwood headcannons (lemme first tell ya, I also love them to a fault, such a shame we have almost nothing on them that is cannon), and do you have any thoughts about holidays or parties they might have? We know of the Feast in The Hobbit book where Galion drinks himself unconscious lmao (iconic of him btw), but seeing as they are apparently a very happy population in general, I'd wager they have more than just that one yk

Thanks for the ask!

I think the Silvan Elves are a very celebratory people, and will take any opportunity to partake in feasting, wine, and song. There are banquets and parties often, sometimes for no occasion other than to make merry (as is seen in The Hobbit, where the Elves host parties for many nights in a row!) That being said, I do think there are also holidays of special significance throughout the year and are commemorated differently than the common feast. Birthdays, for example, are a citywide affair, as are marriages and new babies; the Elves are a very family-oriented community, where everyone pretty much knows everyone. Aside from those, I've compiled a small list of holidays the Silvan Elves would celebrate!

Among the most well-known and extravagantly celebrated holidays are the Seasonal Masques, which are festivals that take place at the height of each of the four seasons. The Elves honor the bounty of nature and the beauty of every season to the fullest, and a lot of preparation is put into these four festivals.

First is the Spring Masque, which is focused on the joy of new blossoms and blooming fruit after winter. They dress mostly in white during this festival, so as to devote their full attention to the vibrant colors around them, and all of the food is found fresh in the wild: berries, fruits, and greenery in particular. There is no meat consumed during this festival, to preserve and honor the new life in this season.

A few months later is the Summer Masque, which is held on the longest day and is a celebration of the lushness of the forest; this day is full of dancing and song to display the excitement of the wild. The outfits of this festival are quite extravagant, featuring a lot of animal and flower motifs.

When the days shorten and the forest is completely covered in the colors of fall, the Autumn Masque arrives, bringing with it a bounty of harvest, changing leaves, and preparation for colder months ahead. The colors of this festival are warm and rich, and there is plenty of hot food and aromatic spices in every dish.

Finally comes the Winter Masque, and the end of the cycle of seasons. The Elves gather inside the Elvenking's Halls, where it is warm, making this a quieter and gentler holiday illuminated with candles, starlight, and snow; the forest is sleeping, so the festivities are quieter to avoid disturbing it. Often, there is a hunt, and the costumes are very fur-based to keep warm, and fresh spiced venison and wine is served.

There is also the Feast of Starlight (or Mereth Nuin Giliath in Sindarin) which takes place in the early winter, when the trees are bare and the stars are clearest; this is the feast that is featured in The Hobbit films, and, as its name suggests, it is a commemoration of Arda's dearest creations.

However, not all of the Silvan Elf holidays are joyful. Lû-o-fuin, or Time of Darkness, is a period of mourning for the Mirkwood Elves; it is a week-long fast in honor of all the lives lost during the War of the Last Alliance. Though the rest of Middle-Earth celebrates this time for the fall of Sauron, the Silvan Elves remember it for the grief it caused to their people - they lost King Oropher and an overwhelming number of their army, and this also marks the time in their history when the Necromancer first came to Greenwood and the trees began to wither. To honor this loss, the Elves do not eat or drink for a week, and wear only ash-colored robes. On the last day of mourning, they go to the Forest River, where they make small boats out of leaves and set them floating in the water, to signify the souls of those who died returning to Faerie (Valinor).

Those are some ideas for Mirkwood Elf holidays! I hope you like them (because I spent a lot of time thinking about these and even longer looking for the right images...), and thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to share this!

If you're interested in my imagining of the Silvan Elves in Mirkwood, check out my mirkwood headcanons tag! If there's a headcanon you want me to explore that I haven't already, my ask box is open!