#CARETAKER DECK

[publishinggoblin]

The Return of the Normal Tarot is imminent, my friends.

@normal-horoscopes@cryptotheism's original deck, the Normal Tarot, upended the form of tarot. Seasons in place of suits, a trio of Knights and a Lady, Queen, and Mother in place of courts, not to mention the reimagined Major Arcana.

The first edition with art by @worm-dark had great success, then the second edition featured two new decks, one in gold foil by @charminglyantiquated, and another in silver, updated from the first edition. And all three of the first and second edition decks are going to see reprints in 2024 with the Return of the Normal Tarot...

But we're also going to see an all-new, full color third edition, illustrated by Ezra Kimbell. This brand new take will be the final iteration of this incredible deck, and I'm very excited to announce we'll have a fantastic and attainable price point for all the decks.

If you're excited for this massive return, please, follow the link above or below and follow along for our launch in early-mid 2024!

[quasi-normalcy]

It's kind of weird when you consider that having Boimler and Mariner on Strange New Worlds will only be the first crossover between ongoing Star Trek series in 28 years.

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - Here and back again

CW: Elliot's mother having a tough time, guilt, stalking

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The bags had piled up outside the building now, a cluttered mess between a yard sale and bulk trash, and Evelyn still wasn't done yet. Done with the packing, the cleaning, the endless calls to that son-of-a-bitch landlord, but not this. Box by box she lifted out of the small apartment and with the rabbit long gone, it was soon left empty.

What now looked more like a wasteland made from drywall used to be Elliot's whole pride, the first station of his new life.

Even though the neighborhood was more than shady and the rooms overpriced, they had been ecstatic when he finally could afford to live on his own, not only because it was about time he freed himself from their two-room fleabox, but to also give him back some confidence. It had worked, sure, at least until now.

She was quick to organize the change in housing, it wasn't even New Year's Eve yet and everything had gone smoothly so far, before the double rent continued to eat up the money they didn't have.

Evelyn was told to watch out, so illuminated by neon lights she struggled to carry all the weight at once, her back twisting and bending into grotesque angles to safely maneuver down the staircase. Spine against the rail, feet searching carefully for the next step, she was at least useful for something.

Elliot's mood had taken a dip in the last few days. Every hour, the nurses checked up on them and every hour he seemed to give up all the strength left in him. 

Not that it was hopeless, no, she knew she could help. She, of all people, understood what was stashed deep down inside of him. She was there to help if her boy would just finally talk.

When he did, he begged her not to go alone, to at least ask her brothers to aid her. So much fear didn't fit her son. Nevertheless, it was practically pouring out of him, every waking second he-

She caught herself, again. Feet placed firmly onto the dirty concrete, she had nearly slipped down the few stairs that kept her from leaving.

This won't be forever, we didn't lose him.

Maybe his father had more luck. The days he was out on the road now grew into weeks...

Keep it together, just a bit more. We have no space for self-pity.

Mountains of clothing, all neatly folded and stacked into the cardboard, joined each other. Evelyn had saved the trip to her car for last, uncertain how risky multiple rounds would be for her. Maybe her son's warnings weren't in vain, even in broad daylight, nobody knew for sure.

The world had become a madhouse, but that didn't mean she belonged in one.

What couldn't be sold and given away was free to take; and why not: any shirt with tight sleeves was out of question now. Zippers, gloves - even his favorite sweater with the buttons at the front - they had to go.

She hoped to keep it stashed away somewhere, all his stuff, so she could return it to him again. No space for that either.

Piling the boxes on top of each other, Evelyn stepped out onto the cluttered sidewalk, the rough edges of the carton already digging into her fingers. She only had to make it down the street to her car, followed by a half-hour drive home.

Maybe there was time to decorate before they could bring Elliot home; his room had to be a gentle welcome after weeks between drips and resident physicians.

Whatever came next, she had to make it easy for him.

"Oh, ma'am, let me help you with that!" a bright voice suddenly called to her from behind.

That's how people get robbed, probably.

"I'll manage," she responded dryly, not slowing down for even a second, "don't worry!"

Just a few more steps kept her separated from her destination; the stomps echoed up to the back of her neck, but she was nearly done with all of-

Accompanied by a smack, the upper box slipped down onto the wet cement and what had been so carefully wrapped up now soaked in the dirty excrement of the city.

Not even this she could do right.

As Evelyn came to a stop, she fought to keep the tears back, tried to think of the happy moments, not what waited for her after she locked the remains of her son away. Through the veil of blurred tears, she made out the person who had caught up by now, already bent over the pavement and started to place the worn-out books and few shirts back together.

"Thank you," she mumbled weakly, not sure how much she trusted her voice.

The head full of wild curls looked back up at her, a friendly smile on the lips: "No problem, ma'am. I can carry this for you, my pleasure!"

He was tall, not as tall as her, but that rarely happens anyway. It'll be fine, she supposed, and felt the urge to hit herself for being so rude, mistrusting or whatever gnawed its way through her chest.

Evelyn returned the smile and signaled the stranger to walk the last few meters with her.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, it's quite slippery out, so I guessed you could use a helping hand. We look out for each other here."

"Ah," she continued to chit-chat, too tired to stop herself, "you live around this place too?"

He walked right next to her, as if he already knew where to go... Come on, don't be like that. Besides, enough people had arrived at the street meanwhile, so what was there to worry about?

He looked pensive for a short second, then explained how he stayed just a few blocks further down. It made sense to Evelyn, he did look like he belonged. Between bald treetops and dirty snow, she questioned how she had become so bitter.

"Well, you don't seem to stay for long anymore," the man ripped her back to reality, as they stopped in front of her car, "I hope the move is not too far, the fuel prices are going crazy lately."

The quick glance he took at her license plate betrayed him, though.

So you do want to rob me, boy, just not right now.

He was free to do so, honestly, nothing more to get here besides scrap metal.

"Very far, actually, upcountry. I'll miss the sea."

"Oh." The stranger looked like she just slapped him across the face: "Well...good luck, then."

He let his eyes wander back to the building, as if he just detected the pile of leftover plastic bags laying next to some kind of alley. All carefully placed down in the last hour.

"Thank you, truly. Maybe you find something useful in there," Evelyn shrugged the exhaustion away, "The smoothie maker behind the ironing board, if you like. I don't know if it's still working, couldn't get it going."

With him distracted for a moment, she took the chance to bring the car door between them and the boxes onto the backseat. Enough small talk for today.

"Thank you, ma'am. Have a safe drive...", the stranger whispered vacantly, before taking another intense glance at the back of her car. A weird man, yet helpful. Whatever.

She was done, at least for today.

As she pulled out of the tight parking space and onto the street, the tension eased from her jaw and hunched shoulders. Evelyn knew her family had to weather through what would follow, one step at a time, they could make it work - together.

--------

Plenty of clothes, nothing flashy or with print. All the wool sweaters felt very quaint, but he could help him with that too. Put something nice on that body.

One or two high-school textbooks were stuck between them, geography and history of all things. Flipping through the trash bags on the side of the road, he hoped for a more...personal discovery.

A diary? Maybe old photos, if he was lucky.

Upcountry, huh? The pressure under his heart made him swallow thickly. Please give me more time.

His thumb slipped over a stack of old piano booklets, bound by a frail rubber band. To use again soon, he hoped.

Rearranging the bulk trash and fitting everything that appeared worth it into his own bag, he knew how this looked in the long run. Nobody had to know that they had met today, it would only upset Elliot even more.

He really is that delicate, he thought with a smile, not intending to stop his scavenging until he had the most valuable treasures gathered in one place. Anything to keep him close.

Morris would give them back, eventually, maybe, when he finally got his hands on what he was looking for.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24

[anthonyreadsthecards]

My take on The Empress. I chose a more gender neutral term because it's my deck and I can do whatever I want with it and also because this card usually talks about feminine energy and a lot other gender stuff that never really resonated with me. So I picked another meaning to focus so now we have The Caretaker.

[thewhumpening-thesequel]

Whumpee silently patrols Whumper's property, a muzzle tight on their face. It itches underneath the straps but Whumpee isn't allowed to touch it. They've been stripped of their humanity, as if never human in the first place. Whumpee trotted like a well-trained dog, alert for intruders.

A thick shock collar encircles their neck, pinching the skin around the clip. Squeezing their throat like a consistent reminder of their entrapment. It took years for Whumpee to become like this, an aggressive guard dog that could be left unsupervised for weeks without any attempt to run.

Whumper would always tell they how well they did, even letting them inside for a couple of hours if they caught a trespasser. Early on, Whumpee wasn't appreciative of that. It took them being left tied to a stake in an uncovered part of the property for a whole year for them to learn that lesson.

They were not a pet, they were not an art piece, they were not meant to be loved or given luxury. Yet, Whumper would give them scratches on the top of their head, stroke their cheeks and praise them. They gave them sweets, once in a while, treated them like a thing to be cared for and not a tool.

Whumpee's feet are rough and cut up, freckles fleck their skin, and their hair bleached by the sun. Dirt clings to their skin, gravel dust colouring the ends of their limbs. Scars litter their skin like little reminders of their failures and slights.

They curl up under the house's porch, some nights. Right at the edge, so they can watch from someplace covered. Whumpee looks up at the stars. Those little lights, twinkling up in the sky, oh so free, call to them. And, yet, Whumpee knows they'll never reach the sky. They'll go with the ashy dust, settling into a random corner, trapped.

One day, there's a trespasser. However, this one seems... familiar. It bugs Whumpee but they push past it. It's not their job to think about things like that, it's their job to protect their master and their property. Whumpee growls, ignoring the person's worried and confused facial expression.

Caretaker didn't recognize Whumpee when they first saw them. It's like an animal had taken over Whumpee's body. The sounds they were making nothing short of animalistic. Caretaker stumbled back when the other lunged. Their eyes glance to the deck, where Whumper stands with a smug grin.

[alisonwritesimagines]

I Was Enchanted to Meet You ~LA!Shanks x Reader~

Summary: Shanks comes back to you before he leaves your village once again. Except this time, it may be your final goodbye.

Author’s Note: I just watched the live action One Piece show and I have to say... I am a slut for Buggy, Shanks, and Mihawk.

Fluff Ending | Angst Ending

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of smut, reader and Shanks being Luffy's adoptive parents in a way

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

You were Luffy's caretaker and teacher. While his grandfather was a high respected Marine, he entrusted you with his grandson whenever he wasn't available to take care of him.

"I'm bored of this," Luffy said as you two were going over some reading.

"A good pirate should know how to read."

"Yeah but I should be preparing to set sail when Shanks comes back," Luffy said.

"How about this? We can go see Shanks today since he is suppose to be back today after we finish our lesson?" You asked him.

"Alright!" Luffy smiled before looking down at his book.

True to your word, you both headed over to the dock where you saw Shanks's ship. You watched as Luffy rushed over to the deck before helping out.

"Luffy! I was wondering when you'd pop up," Shanks said as he finally noticed the small boy. You leaned against the edge while Shanks looked around before finally seeing you. His smile widen a little more before walking over towards you.

"And how are you, my dear Y/n?" Shanks asked as he raised your hand to his lips.

"Nice to see you again Shanks," you smiled at him.

"I'm not joking! I'm ready to join your crew," Luffy insisted to Shanks.

"The sea isn't a child's game. It's dangerous. The scars on my face are proof of that. Besides, I need someone to watch over Y/n and I trust you," Shanks told Luffy as he continued to help his crew unload their ship.

"I can do it, Shanks. I swear," Luffy said.

"You're not ready."

"I am. And I'll show you!" Luffy said before rushing off in the ship. You walked over to Shanks before placing your hand on his. He looked over at you as you gave him a look.

"You really need to be more easy on him. You know how he can be," you tell Shanks.

"Better a disappointed kid now than a dead one later."

"I blame you for being a good pirate and influencing him," you tell him.

"I missed you. Let's celebrate my return tonight together shall we?" Shanks asked you.

"Hey, Shanks!" You heard Luffy. You quickly turned around to see Luffy standing on the top of the view port making you gasp once you saw the knife.

"Luffy! You better come back down here and put that knife back where you found it!" You tell him.

"Listen to Y/n, Luffy. Before you hurt yourself," Shanks called out.

"I'm not afraid of getting hurt. And I'll prove it to you," Luffy yelled before stabbing right below his eye.

"Luffy!" You screamed in shock and horror.

"Get the first aid kit! I'll get him down," Shanks told you. You nodded before rushing out of the ship to grab your first aid kit.

"Why would you do that to yourself?!" You asked Luffy as you stitched him up.

"You could've stabbed your eye," Shanks told him as he sat next to you.

"I was aiming for it, but I missed," Luffy told you.

"Ow," Luffy said as you tightened the stitches a little.

"I thought you said you were tough," Shanks asked him.

"I am! Y/n is just being a little too rough. I want everyone to see my scar," Luffy said.

"Scars don't make the man, Luffy. It's the lesson behind the scar and you didn't earn this one," Shanks told him before tapping his cheek.

"Then let me earn it. I'll be the best pirate ever. Look, I've been practicing what my face is gonna look like on my wanted poster," Luffy said before making a face. You shook your head at him as you gathered your things.

"You are going to give me a heart attack, Luffy," you tell him as you ruffled his hair. You stood up and walked away to put your first aid kit back.

When you made it back to the bar, you saw Shanks walk up to your with your favorite drink. You sat on the chair next to the bar as you faced Shanks. He raised the glasses to you with a smile.

"Have a drink with me," Shanks told you.

"I need to look after Luffy."

"One drink. Then later tonight, you meet me at my ship and we can have our little reunion?" Shanks insisted.

It was no doubt that the two of you had feelings for one another. Shanks loved how soft and caring you were while you loved his gentle touch when it came to you.

"Fine. I hope I don't find anything that belongs to another woman in your ship again," you tell him, remembering the last time you went to his ship after Luffy was asleep.

"It was one time and you know I changed my ways for you," Shanks said as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You took a swing of your drink before giving him a light kiss on the cheek.

Once it became nightfall, you got Luffy ready for bed so you could meet with Shanks. After finding out that he ate a devil fruit, you were livid but you knew that Luffy didn't understand what power and weaknesses the devil fruit had affected him.

"I don't know why you won't let us go with Shanks," Luffy said as you tucked him in.

"You know that the sea isn't for me and you aren't ready to be a pirate. Even if you did eat a devil's fruit," you tell him.

"But you and Shanks love each other. Why can't we just sail with him? I can learn how to be a pirate and I'm stronger now," Luffy said.

"Your grandfather will kill me if I just took you away. And like I said, I am not too fond of the sea. Now it's time for bed for you," you tell him.

"Fine. Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight, Luffy."

Once he was fully asleep, you walked over to Shanks's ship where you could see his quarter's lights on. You walked over to his room where he lied on his bed with his shirt off.

"Getting straight to the point now are we?" You teased as you closed the door behind you. You locked the door before walking over towards his bed. Shanks sat up so you could stand in between his legs.

"I missed you, my love," Shanks said as he pulled you down on the bed with him.

He cupped your cheeks as he kissed you passionately. You cupped his cheeks as well, smoothing your thumb against his scars below his eye.

"I missed you too," you tell him in between kisses.

"Let me have you for tonight," Shanks said as he undid your dress. You sat up before slipping it off of your body.

"You're as beautiful as the day I met you," Shanks praised as he sat up to kiss your body.

-

"How long are you staying this time?" You asked him as you both lied in his bed. Your naked bodies was covered by the thin blanket as you both held onto each other.

"Till tomorrow," Shanks told you.

"How long will you be gone?" You asked. Shanks stayed quiet making you look up at him.

"Shanks. How long will you be gone?" You repeated.

"We're not coming back this time, my love," Shanks told you.

"What?"

"Come with me. I'll take care of you and-"

"Shanks, my home is here. And I can't leave Luffy. He's still a growing boy and I could never forgive myself if I were to abandon him," you tell him as you sat up.

"My love-"

"Shanks, I'm not joining you in the sea and you know why. I'm sorry," you tell him as you got up and put your clothes back on.

"Stay the night. Please," Shanks said as he held your hand.

"I can't. I think it's best if we ended this," you tell him.

"I don't want this to end. Please, Y/n. Come with me to find the One Piece and we can live our lives out together," Shanks told you. You shook your head at him before giving him one last kiss.

"I love you, Shanks. But I can't leave here. Not yet at least," you tell him before walking out.

-

The next day, you watched as Shanks says his goodbye to Luffy. You stared as he gave his hat to Luffy before making eye contact with you. He walked over towards you before taking something out of his pocket.

"I saw this while I was away and wanted to give it to you," Shanks said as he held out a beautiful ring.

"Shanks-"

"I just want you to know that I want you, my love. Will you wait for me?" Shanks asked.

"You need to find that one piece soon so you can come back and get me," you tell him with a small smile.

"I'll come back for you. I promise," Shanks said before sliding the ring onto your finger. He quickly gave you a kiss before walking away.

You put an arm around Luffy as you watched Shanks's ship sail off. You both waved at him as he stared at the two of you.

"When I become King of the Pirates, I'll give you a nice home where you and Shanks can live the rest of your lives together," Luffy tells you. You smiled down at him before ruffling his hair.

"I'll hold you to that," you tell him.

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

Pick a Card: Message from your Inner-Child

Your inner baby needs you to listen. This reading will help them speak their mind clearly. Will you hear them out? Take what resonates and let go of all the rest but be willing to accept new experiences.

☀️Donate to my CashApp🌙

(fund my inner child's joy)

Feel free to drop any reading suggestions in my inbox. I'll keep them in mind when divining the wisdom that needs delivered to y'all's lil ears. Thank you in advance for all your help and support!

Decks used are The Kawaii Tarot, Pure Magic Oracle, Romantic Lenormand and The Karma Cards.

_____________________________________________________________

PILE ONE

Astrology: Capricorn, Aquarius, Libra

Song: Pantsuit Sasquatch by Molly Lewis

Vibes: Green, red, night sky, thorns, bouquet, red flowers, chess, star gazing, alligator, aroma therapy, herbal remedies, apothecary, rabbits, snake skin, olive branch, Zues, Demeter

Cards: 6 of Swords, Saturn, Tower, Lilies, Herbal Craft, Hallowed Heart

Hello, pile 1. Your inner child is really tired of having to be the adult for people who are older than them. They are tired of playing mentor for those who should be mentoring. They want to be done with those people. They are holding up a building with their tiny arms and their shaking frame. As if someone put the world on their shoulders and asked them to carry it with bones that were not developed enough to hold it and without the mental fortitude to withstand the pressure. They wish to rest. They wish to lash out at the adults who relied on them before they were ready or willing. I see your inner child resembles Alice in Wonderland. After the wicked adults in your inner child's life grew white flowers, they demanded it was your fault and made you paint the white roses, red. They took their purity. They hurt you a lot.

The main message I am hearing from them is, "Please be gentle with my little heart and my small frame. I was treated harshly purely for being alive. I need healing. I need time to rest and recuperate. Please do not yell at me for my mistakes. Please do not hurt me for my shortcomings. I did not ask to be here. I only wish for it to get better than it is now. I'm sorry I wasn't mature. I'm sorry I've been impatient but I have been patient for so long. I've spent so much time waiting for my caretakers to do their jobs. Please. I don't need structure. I need relief."

They do not hold you accountable for everything that happened to you, my dear. They are reaching their little hands out for you to help them up. They want to be more present in your life. They want to have fun again. They didn't have enough of it as a child. They want to play outside. The last message I'll leave you with is some advice I find very important.

"Play is the psychological opposite of Trauma."

____________

PILE TWO

Astrology: Scorpio, Gemini, Cancer (maybe libra)

Song: Burn Your Village by Kiki Rockwell

Vibes: Grey, pink, purple, corvids, pinecones, sage, lavender plant, grizzly bear, spider, scorpio, eagle, hummingbird, long hair, video games, D&D, law, Zephyr, Eurus, Callisto, Artemis, Hecate

Cards: Justice, Clouds, Bear, Hecate's Path, Songbirds, 8th House

Hi, pile 2. Your inner child is full of vengeance. I see that without the vengeful energy they are very respectful and kind. Their anger is extremely understandable and a reaction induced by the environment they grew up in. Your inner child has an intense sense of justice. They know they have been treated unjustly by the authority in their life. Those in control of their circumstance took their autonomy and right of trial. The authorities judged you harshly for no good reason and were unpredictable. The authority would explode at random instances making them hard to anticipate. They were dangerous. Purely because they wanted to make your life miserable to cope with their own miserable life. Your inner child did not deserve that. Your inner innocence was corrupted into a furious and resentful person. They are aware they deserved better. They were conscious of their mistreatment. I see they could have been mistreated because of their race or gender.

The message I am hearing the loudest from your inner child is, "Those filthy horrid people deserve to atone for their wrong doings. No one helped me. They didn't even listen. They took that authorities word for truth and no one heard my side of the story. I am not a liar. I am not guilty. I did nothing wrong and now my older self doesn't even believe me either. The people who did this to me will pay. They will face justice if I have to be the one to dish it out. I hate them. I hate what they turned me into. I was pure. I was innocent. Now look at what they have made me. This isn't fair. This isn't right! Why was I treated this way!? Why does no one believe me?! I will never abuse power like that person did. I will end this cycle of abuse. I release and remove everyone who blamed me without learning the whole story. I am letting go of the pain they put me through. They do not deserve me or my kindness. They only deserve my hatred and resentment. I hope they burn."

Your inner child begs you to protect them from the people who did this to you. I can feel they are still in your life. It might be a father or a brother or an uncle. I also see it could be a pastor. Your inner baby will continue to lash out at random times because they have no where to aim all this negative emotion. They want to be free of guilt that shouldn't be theirs. They want to be free of judgmental eyes. Free them from the illusion that this authority laid over everyones eyes. I leave you with one last message.

"The weakest link will target the strongest link to avoid that they're useless."

_________

PILE THREE

Astrology: Virgo, Leo, Sagittarius

Song: Heart of a Dancer by The Happy Fits

Vibes: Blue, pink, forest green, androgenous, duality, 2b hair texture, robins, blue jays, coffee mugs, sculpting, yin/yang, balance, rose quartz, pearl, magnolia tree, gardening, bonfire, 3rd eye, Aphrodite, Hermaphroditus, archangel Samuel, Lucifer Morningstar, Baphomet

Cards: 8 of Cups, Birds, Woman, Pyro-kinesis, Closing Circle, Virgo, 7th House, North Node

Hey there, pile 3. I feel many complex emotions from your inner child. I see how they were conditioned is much different than how they genuinely are. They were conditioned to be quiet, serene and passive. But when they are acting genuine it is exact opposite. They are loud, angry and active. There is a need to walk away from their conditioning and those who conditioned them. They don't know how to ask that of you because of how they were taught. They do not speak unless spoken too and this makes it difficult for them to communicate with you. They are anxious they will be punished if they ask for anything of you. Invite them forward and allow them to speak their mind. They hold back a lot of emotion that needs to be expressed. You need to be open to hearing what they have to say.

The important message I need to tell you from them is, "You will benefit from our collaboration. I'm sorry for speaking up but you are not following your heart anymore. You are following what you have been told. This is not authenticity that you display. It is fake. Even if it is well-meaning you are not yourself. You are pretending to be someone else. Please let me express my rage. Please let me express my heart. I can't hold it anymore. I don't wanna feel this way anymore. Let me chatter and chirp and yell and scream. I wasn't allowed to when I was young. I need the freedom to do so now. Allow me to open doors I was never allowed to enter. Please see me in my full complexity. I am more than just a pretty face. I am more than my body. I am a person. I have personality. I have beliefs. I am a benefit to society when I can speak. I am not a waste. I am good as I am. I don't need to bottle my true self to make others comfortable. Free me, please."

They are asking you to allow yourself and your inner child to be themselves. They deserve space to exist freely without having to hide themselves away. I honestly don't need to say much more but I will leave you with one more piece of advice.

"Authenticity is the most powerful way to exist."

___________

PILE FOUR

Astrology: Taurus, Aries, Pisces (maybe aquarius)

Song: If My Heart Was a House by Owl City

Vibes: Muted colors, yellow, orange, fairies, sunflowers, barn owl, cat mint, raptors, vase, eyes, beards, lotus, candles, chimneys, diamond, playing cards, hobbits, anime, Apollo, Athena, Aphrodite

Cards: King of Pentacles, Sun, Owls, Ancestors, Gnomes, Aquarius, Venus

Hello and welcome, pile 4. Your inner child is asking me to tell you that you won't find the love you are looking for in other people. You won't find it in romance. You won't find it in friendship. At least not until you can find it in them. They didn't have the luxury of building their life on an identity that was theirs. They don't even know who they are. You need to explore them. Discover yourself in them. Be friends with them. They long for connection and the only one who can give that to them is you. They spent their whole life just trying to survive that they found identity in the pain they experienced. There is so much more to them than victimhood. So much more than their trauma. They are bright as the sun and immensely smart. They are funny and creative. Let yourself and your inner child grow beyond your collective pain and become something more. Your family isn't the pinnacle of humanity. I have a feeling that your family might have a narcissist among them. They are only a facet of humanity, my friend. There is so much more to your life than being approved by others. You are made of magic. You need to see that.

The message I hear from your inner child is, "I'm done striving for love from people who never intend on giving it to me no matter how perfectly I perform. I'm tired chasing something I'm never going to catch up too. I've always known I'm better than that. They made me feel so small though. They made me feel so pointless and useless. I worked so hard for their love but they will only ever love themselves. They will never have enough room in their heart for me. They make me feel like I'm not enough. I want to give myself the love they never could afford for me. I want to be loved so much. I want to be held and cherished the way I deserve to be. I am enough even if they say I'm not. I've always been enough even though I'm small. They are a giant black hole of emptiness and nothing. They are jealous of my light. I wish my older self could see that. I'm not selfish for wanting to be loved. I'm not wrong for wanting to be adored. I'm worth the effort. Please, see that it's true. I want to be known for who I am. I want to be discovered. I wish so deeply to be seen and appreciated. I'm the only one who can do it."

Your inner child is asking something of you. They ask you to take the role of mother and father for yourself. A role that was never filled even if you had your parents in your life. They neglected you. So much so you felt like you didn't deserve love but you desperately craved it. My dear, I will leave you with one last message and then the rest is up to you.

"You are worthy of being loved by you."

[urhoneycombwitch]

sick days

foreword: first proper fic for dad!Steve series!! thanks for requesting, anon. happy mother’s day to those who celebrate, and to those who don’t (cheers)- I hope this fic is a comfort. hair texture and skin color of the kids in this series will not be described- any physical descriptors will be of their likeness to Steve. if you want to read the origin story/meet-cute of this version of Steve + reader, you can read that here!

{for every ear a flower: series masterlist}

cw: mom!reader, R wears Steve’s shirt, the whole fam is sick in this one (no emetophobia warning tho!), fluff and parental caretaking

wc: 1.6k

___

There’s a soft noise around the corner, and Steve dog-ears his novel to scoot forward on the couch, voice soft and inviting. “Hey, buttercup. That you?”

His eldest daughter, JJ, peeks out from the entryway of the living room. “Me.”

“It’s you,” Steve confirms with a hum, setting his book on the coffee table to open his arms. “C’mere, babe. Your stomach hurting again?”

JJ gravitates towards her dad’s lap like a magnet, dragging her yellow flower-print baby blanket behind her. She’s already three and a half, but Steve hopes she never grows out of it- or the tiny socks with ruffles, warm in his big hand as he holds both her feet in a comforting squeeze.

“Head hurts,” JJ says, in a heartbreaking whine, settling her weight against the contours of Steve’s chest.

He sighs in sympathy, rocking his first baby in his arms like he did when she was even smaller. “Your head hurts? That’s no good.”

JJ makes a noise of agreement and burrows into Steve’s neck, cheek warm where skin meets skin. Steve slides a hand up her back, over her pink cotton nightie, to feel for lingering fever- her forehead is warm but not overly so.

In silent thanks to the wonders of Baby Tylenol, Steve kisses the crown of JJ’s head and pats the side of her leg. “Tell you what- it’s past bedtime but you’re not feeling so good. Wanna watch a movie out here with me ‘til you fall asleep?”

Normally this news would be cause for a screech of delight and some couch jumping, but on the tail end of a long week of sickness, Steve’s little girl just plucks absently at his shirt collar. “Mommy too?”

“Mommy’s putting your sister down for bed,” Steve says, and then (because he always tries to be mindful of where blame could land, knowing full well that disappointment can breed sibling rivalries, and he doesn’t think he could stand seeing that sisterly bond turn contentious)- “But I’ll go see if she needs some help, and then maybe we can all be cozy on the couch. Sounds good?”

JJ hums in response, sounding faded and fatigued, and Steve moves carefully to keep the jostling to a minimum as he stands to re-situate his kiddo on the couch. After tucking the blanket in yellow swaths around her body, Steve turns to the nearby VHS stack above the TV. 

“You want Ariel?” he asks, already reaching to free The Little Mermaid from its plastic confines. 

“Yeah. But no Urz-la,” comes the reply from the couch.

Steve kneels to load the tape into the deck, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose where they’d slipped. “I promise I’ll be back in time to fast forward.”

The VCR whirs, opening credits coming to life on the screen with a colorful overture to match. After lowering the volume, Steve backtracks to the couch again, dipping to place a kiss against the dimples in JJ’s hand where it curls around a fistful of fabric.

“Be back in a few, buttercup.”

The cheery music fades as Steve moves down the hall; the first door on the right is partially open, and he leans a shoulder against the frame, quietly observing, not wanting to interrupt your rhythm.

In a pair of comfy sweatpants and Steve’s old Hawkins High tee, your form moves smoothly around the darkened room, tracking a short loop from the crib to the changing table on the opposing wall. You’re walking with a gentle bounce, swaying the baby in your arms with each step, a constant murmur of nonsensical soothing as you rock your youngest to sleep.

“That’s it. You’re a sweet girl. Just close your eyes, ‘kay? Shh shh shh. Sleepy time.”

Steve can hear the exhaustion in your voice, even low as it is, and feels a twist of guilt- the college where the two of you work only allows librarian staff one day of sick leave per month, which Steve considers a crime (JJ gets sick at least that often from whatever germs her preschool provides). 

Thankfully, his professor leave is slightly better, a generous three days a month, which he’s unintentionally blown in a week with this last bout of mystery sickness that’s been passed through his little family. 

You, on the other hand, were only afforded a three-day weekend, and not a very restful one at that: on top of trying to recover from sickness yourself, a fevered baby Birdie has been overly fussy while JJ has been desperately clingy to both you and Steve. 

It’s been a long weekend of rotating in and out of three bedrooms, disrupted sleep schedules, and speedy trips to the local pharmacy; a blur of constant motion as Steve and you have tried your best to stay afloat and tend to your sick kids. 

Steve’s grateful the worst of it is over, now that everyone’s fevers have broken, and he’s glad you’ve still got a whole Sunday to recover. But by the looks of it- hovering uncertain over the bars of Birdie’s crib, unwilling to lay her sleeping form down- you’re not giving in to recoup time yet.

Steve moves in behind you, quiet still but shuffling his bare feet against the carpet a bit to let you know he’s there. “Hey,” he whispers into the curve of your neck, hands coming to rest at your hips, joining the rocking motion you’re keeping up for the sake of the baby. “How’s my girl?”

“Better, I think.” The arm that isn’t holding the weight of your six-month-old comes to rest against the fat of her cheek, Birdie’s closed eyelids fluttering while you feel for fever, just as Steve had earlier. “Hopefully she’ll sleep through the night, with this medicine.”

“Mhm. She’s a lot better, babe- I meant you.” Steve molds himself to the contours of your back, swaying to the tempo you keep, nosing up the line of your neck to place a kiss behind your ear. “Can’t pour from an empty chalice. Or whatever that saying is.”

There’s a soft stutter at your ribs as you exhale a laugh, hand still on the face of your sleeping baby. “Think Eddie’s wearing off on you.”

“God forbid.” His arms wrap around your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, smiling when he feels you lean some of your weight against him. “You can put her down, honey. She’s gonna be okay. Come watch Ariel with me ‘n buttercup. I’ll even skip past the scary parts for ya.”

“Well, in that case,” you whisper back, a tinge of amusement in your sleep-scratchy voice that hits Steve in his soft spot of love for you. With reluctance and practiced ease, you slip forward from his arms to lay Birdie in her crib, pausing to make sure she’ll settle without your warmth and movements. 

She stays asleep, and you stay watching her, corner night light illuminating the steady rise and fall of her footy-pajama’d body with each breath until Steve takes your hand, gently coaxing- “She’s golden, honey. You did great. I’ve got the monitor by the couch, so we’ll hear if she’s up, okay?”

Your gaze stays on Birdie even as Steve leads you backwards towards the door, even leaning to catch one last glimpse before he pulls the door to a near-close. In the light of the hallway, you blink, looking more worn out than Steve’s ever seen you.

He brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing across the knuckles, tortoiseshell-framed eyes on your half-lidded ones. “Ariel?”

This seems to resonate in the fog of your mind; with a nod, you squeeze his hand. “Ariel.”

On the living room TV, Ariel and Flounder are exploring a shipwreck, and JJ’s watching from her snuggled spot with glazed eyes until she sees you in the doorway. “Mommy,” she says, with feeling, trying to prop herself up but getting tangled in the process.

“Hi, baby,” you greet with equal verve, kneeling to give your eldest baby some untangling and a kiss. “Can I watch Ariel with you?”

In response, JJ musters all her three-and-a-half-year-old strength to pull you on to the couch cushion, and Steve chuckles in tandem with you as you go easily, shushing gently- “Okay, JJ. Don’t strain yourself, angel, just rest.”

There’s nothing like your touch. Steve knows it, and so do both his kids- under the circular pattern you trace against JJ’s face pressed into your leg, her lashes flutter, lulled to calm again by the caress of your fingertips.

After Steve makes sure that the baby monitor on the windowsill is crackling with life, he eases into the spot beside you, draping his arm around your shoulders- you nestle into his side out of habit. JJ’s nearly asleep, but your hand doesn’t waver, generous and tender even though sleep pulls at the edges of all your movements.

A shark snaps at tailfins across the screen, volume low enough to not shake JJ from the sleep she’s fallen into. Steve kisses that same spot behind your ear, then whispers, “Perfectly good shoulder right here. Wish you’d use it.”

He’s rewarded with a dreamy smile as you give in, head dropping to rest in the hollow of his waiting shoulder. Your hand stops its tracing, instead landing to rest securely over your daughter’s arm.

Soon, Steve is eased to sleep by the quiet breaths filling the living room, head tilted back against the couch, glasses tilted to one side. He’ll have a killer neck crick in the morning, but it’ll be worth it.

And luckily for him, you’ve got the most healing hands in the world. 

[not-wholly-unheroic]

I recently found a copy of the graphic novel version of Straight on Til Morning at my local used bookstore and got a great deal so I wanted to share a few of my likes, dislikes, and general observations. I’d been meaning to write up a proper review of the book for awhile now but have been SUPER behind. Anyway, the graphic novel follows the book pretty closely and I’ll be sharing some images from it, so this WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS for those of you who haven’t read it.

First off, the artwork for the graphic novel is beautiful and some scenes are illustrated in a really creative way. For example, I love the depiction of this particular scene where Wendy is writing her stories and Hook sort of…comes to life off the page.

I also really love that while (most of) the characters are still recognizably Disney’s version…they also look a tad more realistic and have some of the illustrator’s own personal interpretation mixed in.

George Darling is a great example. In the graphic novel he is slimmer than in the film and looks remarkably like J.M. Barrie…which I have to consider was probably intentional.

And then there’s the Lost Boys in their animal costumes…Tootles, Skipper (excuse me, this is Nibs erasure—you can add Skipper but don’t just eliminate Nibs!), Slightly, Cubby, and the Twins.

The pirates, however, are a totally different story. Who the heck are these guys???

Anyway… at least they get Hook’s personality right. I love this bit, in particular, where one of the pirates gets a little rough with Wendy and Hook is having none of it. Also, the idea of Hook capturing Wendy to be a mother to the crew is a nice nod to the book.

One big complaint I do have is that the characters are, on occasion, a little TOO self-aware. Like in this scene where one of the pirates makes a sort of on-the-nose observation about Hook’s feud with Pan.

But I will admit, I did cackle at Hook’s reaction.

He said would you please stop trying to psychoanalyze me and look for symbolism and just let the story be about a boy and a pirate? (Hook, how do you even know who Freud is??)

You may have noticed by now that I haven’t said anything about Peter… That’s because Peter barely features in the story at all and honestly when he does show up, he’s…kinda useless and clueless. Now, admittedly, Wendy is meant to be older in this (around 16) so of course, it’s reasonable to think she might not quite view him the same way she did at 12…but in having her team up with Tink to do all the heavy-lifting of the plot (because, ya know, girlpower and all that), Peter sort of ends up not really doing anything. I’d almost rather have an evil Pan, as annoying as that trope is because at least then he actually does something. In this story, it truly feels like Wendy has just…outgrown Peter altogether. And that hurts.

Speaking of which…ya know what hurts even more for me as a Hook fan? THIS.

This poor man is curled up on the deck in the fetal position, terrified of a crocodile who has been long-dead, crying out for a best friend who never even existed except inside his own mind because he was so alone that he made him up.

O W !! Why would you do this to me, Disney?!

It ends for Hook with the crew deciding to drop him off somewhere with enough gold to pay for his keep and hire a caretaker because he’s so mentally unstable they don’t trust him to live by himself.

I hate to say it, but honestly, watching him die would be less painful. At least that would be over with fairly quickly. This just hurts.

But everyone else lives happily ever after, so it’s okay, right? Right??? 😫😭 (Don’t mind me, I’ll just be over here in the corner, crying over my pirate boy.)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This house is crazy and I want it so bad! It comes with Manatees! The 1960 house in Crystal River, Florida has a spring that goes thru the property that's a Manatee rescue and refuge protected by the Dept. of Fish and Wildlife. It's currently being operated as a bed & breakfast, but it doesn't have to be. 5bds, 5ba, and all the cool furnishings stay! $3.3M - it's pricey, but Manatees! Look at them all, right in the yard.

Bear in mind that all this great stuff conveys and look at the painted floor.

Check it out, a blue fireplace.

The kitchen's cute and it's quite large.

This is a main floor bedroom and look at the manatee mural. They even have manatee bedding.

There's seaweed painted on this bathroom wall. The murals are professionally done.

The rest of the bedrooms and baths are on the 2nd floor.

The upstairs bedrooms are just as cool. This is so pretty and it has bedding to match.

The en-suite.

The owners really went all out with the decor.

Small pirate bedroom is adorable for a child.

This is another residence on the property and could be a guest house or caretaker's house.

It's currently used as storage.

Has a nice bath- love the shell sink.

And, there they are, the manatees swimming by in the heated spring- the water temp stays around 72 degrees year-round.

Even the chimney on the fireplace has a mural and there's a roof top deck on the house.

Seating around a fire pit.

I thought that this was an outdoor fireplace, but I don't think it is.

All of these boats convey so guests can take them out on the river.

The property is .45 acre.

I would say that there are so many homes around that they're probably private residences, rather than bed & breakfasts.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/244-NE-2nd-Ct-Crystal-River-FL-34429/43637328_zpid/?

[publishinggoblin]

In just one week's time, we are launching the 3rd edition of the Normal Tarot on Backerkit! You can signup to be notified of our launch here!

We are firing off a brand new 3rd edition to the Normal Tarot, in gorgeous full-color by Ezra Kimbell!

We are also re-printing the 2nd edition Gold and Silver decks by Sam Dow and Amy Smith, as well as the deck that started it all, the 1st edition black and white deck by Amy Smith!

The new guidebook will feature art from all three editions, so it will be usable with any edition of the deck, and oh yes, there will be art prints!

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Achievements (spoiler warning for link) -image files from Steam.

these are cool pieces of art, some with references to previous pieces of DA art. ^^ there are also black and white versions of these image files.

Post is under a cut due to length and spoilers.

This post is Part Two of two.

[Part One link]

A Memory of an Old Friend Witnessed the sixth memory of Fen'Harel.

A Rook Likes Shiny Things Found at least 20 Mementos and returned them to the Caretaker.

A Rook Really Likes Shiny Things Found at least 80 Mementos and returned them to the Caretaker.

Across the Imperial Highway Visited every district possible throughout Northern Thedas.

The Talons of Vengeance Aided the Crows in sending a message to any who claim Antiva from its people.

The Light in the Dark Aided the Grey Wardens in finding what remains after hearts turn to ash.

The Soul of a City Aided the Shadow Dragons in their fight to reveal the corrupted soul of Minrathous.

Annihilation in Arlathan Aided the Veil Jumpers to avert disaster in Arlathan once again.

Call for Coin and Company Aided the Lords of Fortune in seeking valor, glory, and companionship.

The Supernatural and the Strange Aided the Mourn Watch in tracking down anomalies demonic, undead, and dangerous.

A Most Esteemed Purveyor Few people are worthy of an invitation, you know.

A New Look Changed the look of an item for the first time.

Between a Rook and a Hard Place Performed five takedowns.

A Faction’s Favor Upgraded a faction merchant for the first time.

Rune For Improvement Socketed a rune for the first time.

Falling For You Defeated an enemy by knocking them off a ledge during combat.

Nostalgia Trip Tested for fall damage and survived in the Lighthouse.

Clear Minds and Open Hearts Let fly your voice to Mythal.

Enhancements! Fully upgraded a weapon, armor, and accessory to their highest level and rarity.

Stacking the Deck Spent at least 52 points in Rook’s skill trees.

Bringing Down the Sky Defeated all high dragons across northern Thedas.

The Unbound Broke the seals containing an ancient threat and faced down what lied inside.

[source: Steam]

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - PART 9

CW: regretful Whumper, Lima syndrom, trauma, paranoia

PART 8 ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 10

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Things had gone worse during the short break they took from each other. Morris came back to look at him, silent and frantic, while gathering his luggage.

Everything went by quickly after that, Elliot being lifted from the mattress and stashed away in the Civic's backseat, waiting to be picked up. He couldn't overhear the mysterious call Morris made in the next room, but whoever he spoke to made quite an impact on his behavior. Amber; she had to be it this time. He deserved to live after all, the high court decided.

Wordlessly, Morris had joined him in the car just moments later. Quiet curses roamed through the space between, his eyes always fixed on the man in the windshield's reflection. 

It felt like a dream, entering the daylight again. Melting snow coated the meadows and industrial structures that slipped past them with anxious pace, hinting at the first signs of winter. It's Sunday, he realized, the first Advent.

Just a few more rehearsals, and their performance would be flawless. He couldn't wait to see the joy they always brought to the audience, the more reserved admirers of their art had their own way to express that.

Suddenly, the car came to a stop. Elliot faintly recognized the area, a few miles away from suburbia; he was closer to home than he imagined. As he admired the gentle blanket of white that glazed the street, an ice-cold gust of air surprised him. Morris pushed himself out of the driver's side to open the rear door, with a firm grab on his coat collar, he was pulled out to stand.

"Up you go, Ell!"

The soft crunch of snow underneath felt surreal, like it didn't belong there. Swaying lightly in the frosty breeze, boiling up from the inside but breathing out nothing more than little clouds, Elliot was held up by strong hands.

It was Advent Sunday in the deserted wilderness, nobody in sight. A perfect place to get rid of someone.

With a painful frown in his features, Morris continued to search for eye contact and was rewarded with a glassy stare. He prayed to never meet him again, to be something else than the stopgap.

"Ell, you're a decent guy. I wished we had met under nicer circumstances."

Silence. Elliot thought about spring, and his mother. He doesn't call often enough.

"I will end your life, if any of this gets to the authorities."

Nodding synchronously to his heartbeat, he didn't dare to take the chance.

It's a trick, he's going to put a bullet into my head the second I turn around. The fact that Morris was way more fond of everything that could stab didn't convince him otherwise. It's a trick.

"I thought - you know, I had this whole plan made up... Fuck! It's going to be okay." Pulling the sad piece of dried up cotton out of his pocket, Morris began draping the scarf around Elliot's neck, back to its original purpose. Fingers plucked at it, fluffing it up and around to offer the best protection.

"Listen, it doesn't matter how you feel about me right now, the second you're downtown, you need to go to a hospital."

"Yeah." A caw was all he would get out anymore.

"Nonono, listen. You go to the ER and tell them you, I don't know, slammed your hand in a car door. They won't believe a word, but that doesn't matter. Stick to that story, and they will stop asking eventually." 

Morris had other worries right now, planning to delete all his unnoticed messages before anyone would lay an eye on it, a witness to his failure.

"Don't call her, okay? That's not your problem anymore."

Amber didn't use to be his problem for quite a while, actually, not until two days ago. He had pressed her and the little quirks she brought far away, the walls had ripped open now, bleeding inside and out.

Brown eyes dead focused on the asphalt, skin red with infection.

"Okay?"

Only nodding, again.

"Two miles, this way," Morris whispered closely and pointed to the steeple in the distance. It was a fast gesture, nearly over in a blink of an eye, but Elliot could still sense the firm hug Morris gave him, pressing into his shoulders to send shockwaves down his spine.

"In another life, I'm sure we would've had a great time together, right?" Putting the phone back into Elliot's pocket, Amber's number deleted just in case, he held the weak figure at his waist to keep it upright. There was a lot to say, an apology or maybe just a lonely goodbye, but nothing came over Morris' lips.

The pressure left Elliot, standing on his own. It would happen any second, he knew that now, a quick stab between the ribs to let it all out. Morris wouldn't drag this out, he was a decent man too, after all. Watching the sky, blues and grays mixing together in the morning sun, he waited for the end of his suffering.

The motor that never stopped running sounded so far away suddenly, just a buzz in the shell of his ear. He waited.

I don't call mom often enough, really.

Through the back mirror, Morris traced the abandoned man at the edge of the road. He looked so tiny against the open nature, vulnerable to the forces of nature.

Even if he had the nerve left to look at the license plates, he seemed to pass on this opportunity. They would be changed in the near future anyway. Before making it around a curve, he could see how his legs started to stumble forward, too bruised and stiff to bend correctly, but still going. He was expected back home; at least that he had to get right, the rest was irrelevant.

--------

Elliot couldn't remember how he made it back to his apartment building, the world drifted around him in a blur of colors. At one point, he carried himself into a subway station, leaning against the handrails like a wasted lunatic. 

He heard laughter far away, normally anxious it could be about him, but these thoughts were nowhere near. He was glad nobody spoke to him, no help, no nervous interest. Morris would be back, and everyone who suspected foul play regarding the injuries put themselves at the same risk he lived through.

Just me, just me and nobody else. Nobody can know-

Struggling to get the door open, his forehead pressed violently against the wood to keep balance, until the keys finally slipped in to enter the only place left untainted. With a clumsy kick of his foot, it slammed shut again.

Elliot would have fallen asleep, if a silent hop hadn't greeted him near instantly. It felt wrong to have Ginkgo's soft hair next to his agony-ridden body, her noiseless presence coming over him in a wave of peace. She must have been starving by now, neglected for days.

What am I even good for?

Silently apologizing over and over again, he let his unmarked hand pet over her back, smearing wayward fluids all through her precious gray-brown fur. Any minute now, it's not safe.

So caught in his fear he tasted at the back of his throat, he tried to remember something that was promised just a few minutes earlier.

The rabbit's tiny snout nibbled and licked at his elbow, kissing away some scattered drops of blood. Oh, I forgot the yogurt drops.

Half of him wasn't present anymore, gone with time. He was a stain on the mattress, a pool on the bathroom floor. It's a trick, he will come back again. Lost in the feverish heat of his own grimy body, he continued to lay still, only being roused by Ginkgo from time to time. 

I need to feed her.

Acting on autopilot again, his body moved towards the pantry. He watched himself fill her bowl up with fresh water along with hay and her usual muesli, ending the basic task by sitting next to her on the floor, breathing heavily. 

"You're okay," he gasped, not sure who of the two he meant, "you're going to be okay!"

The whole left side of his body was numb, its mere existence scrapped from the mind's perception, like it didn't belong to him.

He needed to prepare for his captor's return: barricade the door, get a knife - a hammer, anything to protect himself. Later, his screaming muscles dictated, letting the husk of a person sink into the ground beneath.

Elliot was allowed to rest now, although his suffering was for nothing. Alas, that's the nature of it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2023 Masterlist]

@febuwhump, @whatwasmyprevioususername

[brittle-doughie]

Not gonna lie, this has been on my head for WEEKS now after I read Tales of Sweetness (Valentines Special) over and over again even though Valentines day is already over-

And I read the part where Pomegranate Cookie and Red Velvet Cookie are argueing if Y/n will like their Valentine Chocolates or not (anddd of course, Y/n likes it in the end), and it made me very interested on the title of Y/n Cookie if they join the Dark Cookies Team;

"Lord/Lady of Darkness"

So- I was thinking...

May I request of What is Licorice Cookie, Poison Mushroom Cookie, Dark Choco Cookie, Strawberry Crepe Cookie, Pomegranate Cookie, Red Velvet Cookie and Dark Enchantress Cookie Opinions or Reactions to Lord/Lady Y/n?

And how does these dark Cookies treat Lord/Lady Y/n Cookie, as well as what these Cookies respect obsess/love Y/n cookie?

Also, I won't forget that I read the part where Lord/Lady Y/n Cookie rides a frikin' Cake Dragon- add that part of how these cookies react that Y/n cookie can tame a Cake Dragon too.

I think some of them will go 😲 or 🤯 or 😱 at Lord/Lady Y/n taming AND riding a big Cake Dragon, of course- 🤣🤣🤣

Cookie Details - Lord/Lady Harbinger Cookie (Y/N Cookie) - (CoD Ver.)

“Am I a joke to you?”

In comparison to the other members of the CoD, Lord/Lady Harbinger Cookie is considered the strongest among them, acting as Dark Enchantress Cookie’s enforcer of her will.

They’re slightly larger then the average cookie, Dark Choco Cookie being able to reach up to where their neck is located. Their main weapon of choice is a halberd as they’re decked out in tough chocolate armor while wearing a dinosaur-like skull for a helmet.

One skill Lord/Lady Harbinger Cookie pertains to is their beastmaster capabilities, not too different to Red Velvet Cookie, but cranked up ten-fold. When given enough time will have Harbinger Cookie tame even large beasts such as Cake Dragons.

Dark Enchantress Cookie has complete faith in Harbinger Cookie carrying out her orders, something that the other members caught onto. Did the both of them perhaps remembered each other before?

Relationship Charts Amongst the CoD

Pomegranate Cookie

[Admiration] “I would gladly serve under their reign..”’

Pomegranate Cookie grew to admire Harbinger Cookie to the point where she treats them similarly to Dark Enchantress Cookie, never would any disrespect head their way with Pomegranate Cookie around.

Has a rivalry with Licorice Cookie over favorites, leading to arguments over who gets to do the tasks Harbinger Cookie brings up. It leads to Pomegranate having to be around them often to prevent Licorice from swiping them from under her. You’re often annoyed at their bickering.

Has a portion of her room dedicated to you. Photos, old weapons you won’t miss, the damn body pillow she keeps tucked in her bed. Others may find it a little creepy, but Pomegranate could care less, she was just showing the extent her devotion goes.

[Admiration] “You can depend on me, I’ll never fail you!”

Licorice Cookie is all about trying to be a better cookie then Pomegranate with whatever you want him to, getting your praise and approval is his main motivator!

You get Dark Choco to handle whatever you need, you’re tired of having Licorice and Pomegranate butting heads with frequent arguments over their perceived achievements over one another.

Will have his licorice servants be at your beck and call, ready to take any orders you would like to request. May or may not summon some of them to swipe things from your room.

Red Velvet Cookie

[Trust] “My Lord/Lady has plans for the new world, I’ll be behind them until the end.”

Harbinger Cookie is a valiant fighter in the eyes of Red Velvet Cookie, training him under their wing. It’s an added bonus that you’re considerate of the cake hounds and other critters that you come across.

Nothing gets him more happy then seeing you being a loving caretaker to the cakes, playing around with them and giving them their treats. Endearing these creatures has only made him endear you more in return.

There is this lingering hint of jealousy he has when you’re too busy playing with the cake hounds with not enough time spent for him, then it would be a situation where he has to shoo them away so he could get to you!

Dark Choco Cookie

[Trust] “Me and them are not so different..”

You’re the only cookie Dark Choco could confide in with the darkness that lurks within his very soul. That trust only goes deeper that you understood him with his past…since you used to be a hero yourself, now having your fate lie within darkness.

Like Red Velvet, he respects your strength, believing that any cookie who could challenge you were simply foolish in their efforts, either ending up being crumbs or utterly defeated.

When he eventually leaves the CoD, he feels a sense of sorrow, knowing that your once pure soul has been tainted and corrupted by the darkness all around you. He wants to believe that you can still be saved and be the Cookie you once were, but as time goes by, that hope diminishes…

Poison Mushroom Cookie

[Friendly] “Have shroomies, they’ll make you feel better…!”

Harbinger Cookie can have their off days, this is where Poison Mushroom Cookie steps in. They never fail to put a smile on their face, offering shroomies to them to lighten up their attitude.

This is returned by Harbinger Cookie playing around Poison Mushroom, lifting them up and allowing them on their shoulder. It strikes the heartstrings of Pomegranate and Licorice Cookie watching Harbinger be a parent to Poison Mushroom!

Strawberry Crepe Cookie

[Friendly] “I can’t seem to pinpoint their ingredients, I’ll need further analysis on them!”

Harbinger Cookie was such an anomaly to Strawberry Crepe…and that’s what makes them so interesting to Crepe! The sheer mystery of what lies in Harbinger’s dough means Crepe is always ready for any opportunity to get a closer look.

You did find Strawberry’s shenanigans a little annoying, but you couldn’t fault the young cookie, they were only curious about what you’re made of, hell, you were to. Dark Enchantress wouldn’t allow it though and you couldn’t exactly go against her…

There’s also the squabbles between Crepe and Mushroom, both wanted your complete attention and neither were willing to cooperate with the other for your care. It leads to you and the others agreeing to never keep them in the same room for too long with you, a fight is the last thing you needed with the two cookies on your shoulders…

Dark Enchantress Cookie

[Friendly] “It’s good to welcome you home, my dear Y/N Cookie..”

Dark Enchantress Cookie, the cookie whom you’ve pledged your loyalty to, the cookie who’ll bring forth a new world, the cookie who brought you in when you were at your lowest..she gave you a second chance and you couldn’t have been more thankful for that.

The only cookie to know your “real name”, or at least she claimed it was. It made the interactions between you and her a lot more personal, as well as how touchy she could be with a hand on your arm or shoulder as she spoke to you.

The life you have now was better then the one you had, she’ll tell you. Just stick to her and she’ll give you the world and so much more, all you have to do is take her hand and never let go..

[jpitha]

The Long Way

This is an edit of an old one of mine.

"No" Cellmenian's voice rose in pitch. She was trying to hold back the rising tide of panic. "No." Her fur bristled and stood out straight, making her look fluffy. Without knowing why she did it, humans might call it cute. It was not.

The blast had only happened about an hour ago. They were en route from Sol to Parvati, a ferry flight of the Starjumper City of Troy, when three of the four reactors had oversped and exploded. If that wasn't bad enough, they were just about to engage their wormhole generator and link over when it happened. The explosion had caused an overload of power to flow to the wormhole generator, and they mis-linked. THe wormhole generator was sheared in half, with the other half somewhere else in space. Deep in interstellar space, Troy was able to triangulate their location from known pulsars, but that was a small comfort when they calculated how long it would take to cruise to where they could be rescued.

"I'm sorry Celle, It's the only way." Kat said, shrugging. "We're too far from the warp gates; we lost most of the reactors in the blast. Hibernation is the only way to get back. It won't take that long. Maybe a decade."

The humans had explored space for a long time before they found other sapients in the galaxy. Long enough to try out just about every different kind of way they could think of to shrink the distance between stars. Most other sapients think the humans insane for the different ways they made "canned mammal" and flung it into the abyss.

They assumed it was some human thing; a desire to leave their planet by any means necessary. They thought the humans were trying to escape. They were right, but not for the reason they thought. It wasn't escape the humans sought, but exploration. The need to see what was out there with their own eyes. The need to go somewhere new.

Among the more gossiping sapients were whispers that there were still human generation ships, soaring in the interstellar darkness between stars. Ships where whole cities of people grow up, live, love, and die just to be caretakers of their hibernating colonists. Being born, living, loving, creating the next generation, and dying not even knowing that their compatriots back home can now warp between stars in days and (for the truly in a hurry) punch holes in spacetime and link between planets with a wormhole. When asked, the human authorities get quiet and make noises that make it clear that this line of conversation is done.

Only the humans make wormholes, the other sapients shudder at the insanity of it, yet, will still use their systems when they need to be somewhere right away.

"Cellmenian?" It was City of Troy, the ship. "I do not have the printable mass to repair the wormhole generator, and even if I did, the reactor's destruction severely limited my power producing ability. I can thrust towards Parvati, but at this distance, it will be... a while before we get there. I am sorry."

"No!" Cellmenian was screaming now. "You can't consign me to spend however many years it takes for us to get to a place where we can be rescued when I...when I..." She broke down, sobbing. "When I have my family to get home to." She slid down to the deck, sitting rather than passing out, tears streaming from her large eyes. "This was supposed to be a one month trip!" She cried "One month!" Kat couldn't help but notice that the K'laxi cried just like humans did. She didn't mention it though, Celle was going through enough.

Kat sat down next to her friend and said nothing. After a while, she put her arm around the smaller sapient. "I'm sorry Celle." She whispered. "If I could wave a hand and fix it, I would."

They sat in silence together, the gravity of their situation pinning them to the floor.

"What about everyone else?" Celle asked.

"Unfortunately, many of them were caught in the blast." Troy said. "You, Kat, and a few others are all that is left. They are all preparing to enter hibernation as well."

"And you're just okay with this?" Celle's ears and tail were flicking in irritation. "Most of the crew is dead, and you're all being entirely too calm about it."

"Well, for one thing, we've had training." Kat said, gently. "We understand that even though we've been a spacefaring species for a long time, accidents still happen. Any trip we take could be our last, or could take so long that everyone we know is gone by the time we return." Kat sighed. "And for another thing, if we stop, we'll die too, Celle. We will mourn them when we're safe. For now though, we have to put it aside for our own survival."

"A beacon!" Celle stood suddenly, unsteady on her feet. "Why don't we link a beacon to Parvati for help?"

"Our supply of beacons was destroyed in the blast." Troy said. There was a touch of sadness in their voice. "I am making a note to recommend that emergency beacons be placed in other areas of the ship for future revisions."

"So that's it then." Celle said, sitting back down, her eyes welling with tears again. "I spend decades in a box, and when I awake, everyone I know is old or dead."

Kat said nothing, she just sat with Celle.

"Okay." Celle said, with a sniff. "If we're going to go into hibernation, I want to do it now. I want the shortest possible time conscious before I see my... family...again." as she blinked, more tears ran down her cheek.

"Well Troy?" Kat addressed the ship. "Are the hibernation berths printed?"

"Almost, Kat." the ship replied. "Luckily, I had some data from Contact about K'laxi needs in hibernation. You can both hibernate safely for the boost home. You'll climb into the cabinet, close the door, and before you realize what happened, the door will open, and you'll be at Parvati."

"Let's go then. No time like the present."

[silverskye13]

Ooooo it was so hard picking just one prompt, but for the Situation Game- Could you do #48? Enemy caretaker fic with Tanguish and Wels? Tanguish finds Wels unconscious and (against his better judgement) takes care of him until he wakes up. (Alternatively, you could do Helsknight and Tango, if that first prompt doesn't click. I've been drawing those two interacting so they've been on my mind lol)

He hadn't expected to find him there, was the thing. Tango had asked him to go check through Decked Out while he was gone -- some meetup with Impulse and Zed, it sounded like it would take awhile. Tanguish had heard rockets and wisely hid, and then the rockets left. He assumed someone was dropping something off, or maybe had planned to see Tango only to realize Tango wasn't there. And maybe that was exactly what happened.

The important thing was: Tanguish didn't hear what direction the rockets went. He didn't hear the Warden caged downstairs growl or shriek. He didn't hear a crash, or a scream, or any other indication that an accident had happened. So when he stumbled on Welsknight on the lowest floor of Decked Out, unconscious, it had been... Well it had been a shock. He hadn't even known it was a person at first. He saw a bundle of something on the ground, and he placed down the shulker box he'd been carrying and went over to investigate. When the pile of elytra and armor resolved itself into Welsknight, Tanguish froze, heart racing.

(He should leave him here.)

It wasn't a kind thought, but Tanguish was, rightly, he thought, terrified of Welsknight. If their situations were switched, and it was Welsknight walking up on Tanguish crumpled and unconscious on the floor, he was sure the knight would kill him and he done with it. Just one less problem to deal with. Simple. And while Tanguish was far from able to kill in cold blood -- or killing in general -- leaving the knight here would serve a similar end. Not his problem. He would wake up, or he wouldn't. Tango would find him, or he wouldn't. Whatever happened, it didn't have to be Tanguish that dealt with it.

Except, standing over Welsknight, Tanguish was struck by how much he looked like Helsknight. Their differences were unmistakable up close. He was an inch or two shorter, his hair a sun-gilded auburn, and even bruised he looked gentler, like the world had been kind to him. Their resemblance was brotherly, something about the build and the set of the jaw. But it was enough that Tanguish imagined Helsknight crumpled on the ground somewhere, and how terrible it would be to leave him behind. So, lanced with guilt that made no sense, but compelled to act on it regardless, Tanguish set to work making sure the fool knight didn't die.

Tanguish didn't have much on his person to help with healing, and even if he knew where Tango kept potions, it would be a long climb back up to the Decked Out storage room. He did his best to check for broken bones, looking for odd angles or swelling or crooked joints and finding none. He had to take off the knight's helmet to check for a head injury, found a pretty decent welt, but nothing that suggested blood or breaking.

Tanguish glanced around. They weren't really in the safest place. Beneath the unfinished game, scaffolding blocks and incomplete redstone lines cast long shadows where creatures spawned and congregated, and it wouldn't do to get them both killed by a spider or a zombie down here. Tanguish tentatively explored around, and managed to find a suitably defensible crevasse (a hole in the wall really, probably dug out while Tango was measuring something or other to do with the game). He circled his arms around Welsknight's chest and, as gingerly as possible, tried to drag him in that direction. Then less gingerly, when the knight barely budged. And then Tanguish slumped to the ground because, gods and saints, were people always that heavy? He knew he wasn't the strongest, but he could carry his own weight up the side of a building. Surely he could drag a knight a couple dozen blocks?

Tanguish huffed out a sigh and stared down at Welsknight thoughtfully. "You're more trouble than you're worth, you know that?"

(That was mean. Even enemies were worth saving, so long as they didn't do something mean to make him regret it after.)

Tanguish took another pensive look around, and content nothing was about to attack him for his efforts, knelt and began taking the knight's armor off. He had a little knowledge of all the different buckles and bracers and how they worked (he'd seen Helsknight take them on and off a thousand times). It took some fumbling, especially around the chest plate, where he had to gently turn Welsknight over and prop him up, and support his head because flopping around on his neck like that couldn't be good for him, and, gods, this was stupid and awkward and terrible. He really, really should've just left. But then he was done, and when he slipped his arms around the knight to drag him again, he actually managed to move him a few steps without his back breaking, so he took that as his sign from the universe to keep going.

Tanguish wanted the universe to know he tried to be gentle. He wasn't big and strong like Helsknight (and probably Welsknight too). He couldn't casually pick up people and carry them around, or throw them over his shoulders. And if Welsknight were conscious enough for a piggy back ride, Tanguish was pretty sure he would just fall over if he tried to take a step. So dragging the knight two dozen blocks to a little hidey hole in the wall was the best, safest, and really only option at his disposal. Once inside, he scurried out to his shulker box, snatched it up, and dropped it in the entrance to the hiding place so anything that might want to come in would have a harder time. He wished there was something useful inside. He had planned on mob proofing while Tango was gone, stringing around glow lichen so his double would have a safer time working on his game. He had a few snacks, some water, and about a stack and a half of lichen left. That was all he'd bothered to bring with him. Now he wished he had brought something actually helpful.

Tanguish weighed his options, staring down at the still unconscious knight. Leaving sprung to his mind first -- Welsknight was reasonably safe now. The chances of something finding him was relatively small, and if he hung up some glow lichen before he left, the light might ward off anything that did notice him. He thought about maybe bringing the knight to hels, where he might find some help. But that help would probably be Helsknight, and he didn't know how much he trusted those two together. He was... Reasonably sure Helsknight wouldn't kill his double while he was unconscious, but he had no idea what he would do when Welsknight woke up. And Welsknight probably wouldn't take kindly to waking up in hels anyway. He could try to get help? Wander around the server just hoping he stumbled upon Tango, alone? No. No he wasn't going to do that.

Tanguish sighed, rolled his eyes at his own powerlessness. After a few more moments of deliberation, he pulled out his water and a few clumps of lichen. He had a half-remembered thought from somewhere that lichen could be medicinal. He had no idea if this lichen was, but he at least knew it was spongy and could hold a bit of water. He made himself a little ball with the stuff, soaked it, and gingerly placed it against the lump on Welsknight's head. He knew his hands would chill it, and frost crept around his fingertips the longer he held his makeshift compress. He pillowed the knight's head in his lap -- it seemed the most comfortable for both of them in the combined space -- and settled in to wait until Tango came back, or Welsknight awoke, and he hoped the knight would either be too incoherent or too grateful to kill him if the waking came first.

Outside his little hideaway, Tanguish listened to the sounds of monsters crawling to life. The tip-tap-skitter of spider legs. The moans and grumbles of the nearly sleepwalking dead. The occasional croaking mutter of an enderman. He didn't hear creepers (He didn't think anyone could hear creepers.) They crept around on quiet claws, a breath of fur and dark, glaring expressions. One snuck up to his hideaway and peered inside, gazing at him with bottomless black eyes. It hissed, smelling or sensing him and trying, vainly, to threaten him. It couldn't come through the wall, and it didn't give off its tell-tale flashing. Tanguish narrowed his eyes at the thing and hissed back, a keening noise that sent a shiver down his spine, and echoed off the walls of his little hideaway like a sculk shrieker. The creeper lurched backward (most natural things feared sculk on an instinctual level) and it scuttled away into the dark. Tanguish snorted in the general direction of the fleeing creature, and looked down at Welsknight. He gently moved his compress, and felt some satisfaction at seeing the swelling had gone down.

"You know, you knights really are strange sometimes," Tanguish informed the unconscious Welsknight, as though he could hear. "All the armor, and the oaths, and reckless danger -- and you're just as mortal as the rest of us." Tanguish leaned his head back against the wall behind him. "Do you have tenets like Helsknight does? Stuff you swore to do? You've got to, right? That's what makes you a knight, instead of just a guy with a sword."

Tanguish's tail twitched thoughtfully. "You and Helsknight feel the same way about technicalities, so you probably can't truly lie. You just dance around the truth a little, like he does. Let people come to their own conclusions... You shouldn't do that."

Tanguish readjusted his compress. "It makes people feel patronized, like you think they're too stupid to figure out what you're saying. And it makes us feel stupid for trusting you. Like on the aqueduct. I didn't really have a choice but... I really did believe I was safe. It was... Cruel... To take that back."

Tanguish felt nervousness reignite in his stomach, a turning and writhing at the danger he was in, implicitly.

"That would be like me waiting for you to wake up, just to hurt you," Tanguish said quietly, his free hand dipping down to the dagger on his hip. The cold metal, the waiting intention the weapon held, felt almost electric and alive against his fingertips. "All this trouble and effort to keep you safe, discarded over something as petty as who the universe likes best." He thought about Helsknight, and the importance he placed on time. "What a terrible waste of time."

Tanguish sighed and studied the ceiling, tracing the textures in the stone overhead with his eyes. He could see the pickaxe marks where Tango had tunneled this out, long gouges and sharp-edged chips.

"I think I understand why he feels the way he does about you. About all of you. You don't understand what you have." Tanguish looked down at the knight, who, despite what had surely been a terrible fall, merely looked like he slept. "It isn't just death that's a mild inconvenience. Everything is. Eternity is sitting in front of you. Even the largest problems, miseries that could span decades, will be nothing in the blink of an eye. There is no such thing as wasted time. There is no discomfort in doing something badly, or even passably. There's just... The endless possibility to try again. Even my saving you right now is, at best, a very odd, kind gesture, because you don't have a limited number of times to come back. There's no fear in the universe deciding this time it will just swallow you. What I'm doing is meaningless, so meaningless it might not even change your opinion of me, unless it's impressive to you that someone who shouldn't have bothered, did. Impressive, and not terribly stupid."

(He was starting to feel terribly stupid, all things considered.)

Movement caught Tanguish's eye, and he sat quietly as some monster or another passed their hiding place, shuffling off in the dark.

"There's no urgency for change." Tanguish whispered. "There's no pressure for legacy. It's like building sand castles in the desert, with no waves to knock them down. There's no reason to find them precious, no urgency to finish before the tide comes, no cherishing the seconds before they're weathered away. They'll just be there tomorrow, or the next time you get around to paying them attention. It's a beautiful gift, and you have no context to appreciate it. I understand why. You've never lived anything different to give you perspective... But I also understand why he hates you for it."

Tanguish blinked out at the world beyond his little keyhole, where danger stalked, undisturbed and wholly uninterested in him.

"No wonder the universe makes us," Tanguish said. "Why else would you have any reason to change?"

Tanguish looked down at Welsknight again. He studied the knight's face, all the things about him that stayed steadfast and unchanging, uncaring that his existence weathered Helsknight away everyday. That he was a wave, and Tanguish and Helsknight and everyone like them were just sand castles waiting.

"You probably won't," Tanguish murmured, "but I hope someday you figure out how to love him. Love the parts of yourself you hate so much right now. Helsknight is terrifying, and overbearing, and too strong for his own good. He walks through the world like he wishes he could bully it into being fair." Tanguish let out a breath. "But he tries so hard to be good, and any goodness I've learned, I think I learned from him. In spite of him. Because of him."

A sadness washed through him then, and Tanguish spoke soberly. "Someday it will be just you and Tango. A month from now. Or a year. Or whatever our lifetimes amount to. When that day comes, I hope you'll look at each other, and somewhere, me and Helsknight will glimpse each other again. I hope whatever the end looks like, it isn't lonely."

Tanguish fell silent, waiting with infinite patience for Welsknight to wake. He must have dozed off, because he roused to the sound of a groan, and Welsknight slowly rolling over to reach the sore spot on the back of his head. Tanguish held his breath. He probably should have figured out what he was going to do when Welsknight woke up. He had no plan, no idea-- hels he was trapped in a confined space with him! Wait -- his coin. Right.

Welsknight's eyes fluttered open. He frowned first in confusion, then recognition, and then Tanguish's coin was in his fist and he was gone.

In hels, Tanguish leaned against the front door of the house, eyes closed, trying to calm his breathing. It really shouldn't be a big deal. Welsknight hadn't even had the time to threaten him. It was just the residual terror of past bad experiences, the adrenaline rush of realizing he was trapped in a room with a tiger. But he was home now, and he shouldn't be afraid -- didn't have to be afraid.

"You're home early," Helsknight said, sounding concerned, and very close by. He must have been writing at the table. In the time Tanguish had been forcing himself to calm, Helsknight stood and cautiously crossed to him. "Did something happen?"

(Did Welsknight happen?)

"N-no," Tanguish said unconvincingly. And further discredited himself by stepping forward, and hugging Helsknight. He could feel Helsknight's concerned frown in his posture, in the slow way he hugged him back, offering confused comfort.

"Are you... sure?"

"Just glad you're still here," Tanguish said.

"Ah." Helsknight hummed, as though he understood. His hug deepened a bit. "Still here. Are you?"

"I think so."

"Good. I guess I'm glad too, then."