#I am one of those people who eat chocolate mostly for the sugar

[nautiscarader]

What the hecking heck happened with me - THE UNNECESSARY (and kinda boring) SEQUEL

So you might have noticed I have been absent for the past 2.5 weeks. So, where have I been? What has happened to me?

Well, you see, I got this magical music box, and when I opened it, I was transported into a different world full of talking frogs, toads and-

Wait, I've done this bit already.

....

Yeah, got into hospital. AGAIN.

Same warning as before applies, regarding medical stuff. Especially if you are eating.

Chapter 13: Wednesday Night's fever

So around three weeks ago I found myself really sapped of strength. Well, as you might recall, I basically had a fall and got wounds on my hip. Or to put it in another words:

Well, something from those wounds got infected or something and started affecting my whole body. The effect? Pretty much daily ~38C (~100F) fevers that drained me of energy.

No, buddy, the solution is paracetamol.

That was helping me daily when I was in hospital while getting some long-term antibiotics.

So, yeah, not to blow the trumpet, it was pretty much that: drips, pills, drips, pills, gastroscopy, drips, pi-wait, what did I say AND WHAT IS THIS THING-

Chapter 14: Gastroscopy

So I had to have gastroscopy done, which, in case you don't know is basically a tube with camera being inserted into your esophagus and-

Yeah, not pleasant. But the whole thing lasted only about 10 minutes, and the worst part was the first 30 seconds. So, no biggie. Now, let's talk about....

Chapter 15: Neighbours

Because they were really an odd collection.

First one was just an old dude who hated when I asked to open windows (and of course just as I was admitted spring temps have arrived)

Second one was a detective! In fact he has just solved a murder mystery that happened in the adjacent room! And the murderer was his roommate!

... yeah, he was pretty out of touch with reality, they took him after a day.

And then comes our star: Typical Janush, or Ordinary Janusz, as the Polish meme goes (don't worry if you don't get it)

This absolute unit of Polishness with huuuuge beer belly, bald spot and moustache has brought with him in his bag of holding:

coffee and sugar (nothing spectacular tbh)

TWO different chocolate waffers packs,

two strawberry chocolate bars,

Toffee sweets,

coffee sweets,

TWO different types of sausages,

home-made chicken wings,

and a jar of pickled mushrooms (fereality-indy DNI)

What else did he have in it? I don't know, and frankly, I am scared of the possibilities. This guy could give Mary Poppins a run when it comes to that bag.

He cursed like a sailor when he watched the news - and he watched all the news, he was funding the TV, so he might as well get what he's paid for.

He was also... really kind. He helped me with everything I couldn't do, sometimes faster than the nurses. Really awesome dude.

And the last one who was admitted JUST as I was leaving, was a 96-year old grandpa with some gastric problems. What problems? I don't know, but imagine a cat coughing up a furball... at a volume of a small steam locomotive. At 2 a.m. Every half an hour.

i only had to deal with him for a day.

He also brought... a flask with him.

The one they usually sell spirytus in. Now, it did NOT contain alcohol, just lemon-flavoured water.... but you had to see the nurse's reaction when he was seen casually drinking from it :) He was politely told to use other vessels.

And as a bonus, there was a guy in adjacent room who sometimes visited us and wore a curious t-shirt.... you know the "how do you do fellow kids" meme, right?

and how they just wrote "music band" in order to avoid problems with AC/DC copyright?

Well, his T-shirt had a generic basketball and words "Basketball Team est. 1992". And that's it. No other allusions to, say, Chicago Bulls, or any other team. Just that.

We have reached singularity, people.

Chapter 16: In conclusion, it was mostly boring

Yeah, I have to admit, this stay wasn't that eventful, which I guess I should count as blessing. What else to add... Oh, all the nurses were h*cking cute!

One even recognised me from my first visit!

So, yeah, now I've done the unpacking, and oh boy, you always collect lots of stuff you then forget about.

Like-

Wait, the heck is that?

It... it looks like I have written a 4k Glitch Techs G-rated fic... on my phone! Which has non-existent keyboard! Wait, that can't be right...

It's mostly done, but not finished... Still, it's a shame if it got wasted, right?

[andywinter16]

Random headcannons because I am feeling unwell, and those actually made me smile :)

- Luche often forgets to eat for a whole day. Always is feeling dizzy afterwards. Lib usually gets him some food while scolding him in galadhian.

- Crowe owns cactuses. Her whole flat is covered with them. (Yes, she named them all)

- Pelna is the one who has ton of snacks on him. (Yes, he shares with everyone, especially Luche)

- Nyx is avid reader ( mostly reads non-fictional, but never says no to good fantasy)

- Tredd is gym rat along with Sonitus, who usually posts it on Instagram.

- Axis drinks his coffee black with tons of sugar. That man is a tired dad of three children and one troublemaker Furia, let him be.

- Sonitus has a cat named Rocket. (It´s orange cat that has ADHD)

- Nyx is cuddlier when he´s tired from work. (Better get beforehand to restroom because Nyx will not let you go)

- Libertus is the type who will wear shorts through all the seasons. And socks in sandals XD

- Axis knows sign language because one of his children is deaf.

- Titus has a little doggie. Glaives are scared shitless of him when he brings him to HQ.

- Tredd loves hot chocolate with chilli ( will deny it, cuz real men don´t drink chocolate)

- Titus drinks expensive bourbon whiskey like a water. He adds it to absolutely everything (coffee mostly)

- Luche usually goes to nature for walk to refresh his mind. People get scared and start looking for him, because he´s out for too long.

- Axis had farm on Galadh with chocobos. Has win few prizes from chocobo races.

- Sonitus is great swimmer and teached younger kids at home how to swim.

- Crowe is the type who immediately sense that something is wrong, it doesn´t matter it´s three am, Crowe is here.

- When is Pelna nervous he bites his bottom lip. Sometimes he bites so hard it´s bloody.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Untenable Situations

I'm trying to figure out how the hell I can explain to my managers (and their managers, frankly) that the current situation is absolutely fucking untenable. And I don't mean from the point of view of "I can't keep doing overtime like this". I mean "my working overtime is insufficient no matter how hard I work". Because seriously? No.

It's not just the fact that Scruffman's away until Thursday. That's a pretty big part of it, because all the lazier habits of my office-bound co-workers are dialled up to 11 when he's not in and they're also picking up some of the things he normally does, but it's not all of it. No, it's the fact that I did some counting towards the end of the standard working day, and calculated that between them, the doctors (however many there were; I did not look into that) dumped a grand total of 301 bits of dictation into the queue. And that's not counting the urgent cases that got done as and when throughout the day. I did all of those, so tack on another ten cases, for a grand total of 311. This is a whole lot of doctors who, between them, are working from just before 8am until just after 6pm every weekday, plus pulling several hours over the weekends. Whereas the secretaries who are in at the moment work at best a standard 9-5 (or 8-4). As it stands, we only have two full-time secretaries devoted entirely to the typing, and they aren't currently, because Scruffman's away. Then we have the two part-timers - one who only works two days a week and desperately wants more hours (but for some reason isn't getting them), and me, who's currently effectively working full-time because of the sheer amount of overtime I've had to pull to keep us from drowning completely.

Of course, it'd be nice if the secretaries that want to meander through the typing queue would just take the longer ones and loaf over those, and leave me to do my speed-demon blitz through the shorter ones, but nope. Nope, they want the shorter ones so they can "still feel productive" because on paper they're doing the same number of cases I am when they meander through short ones and I blitz through long ones as best I can through the mess some of these doctors make of their dictations.

It doesn't help that I am fucking exhausted. My one-hour break between the normal workday and the overtime hours was not spent relaxing or eating or anything, but dealing with my monthly grocery order. Turns out my little intercom / buzzer that lets me let people into the foyer is probably broken, because the grocery delivery guy couldn't even call up to my flat's intercom. He had to call me on my mobile to let me know he was downstairs waiting. And since I couldn't just buzz him in, I had to go hobble downstairs, let him in manually, and then take the stairs to meet him on my floor because I would not fit into the lift with a grown man and a dolly bearing my month's worth of groceries. And then I had to put all that away. Which is a kind of a to-do in a kitchen as small as mine is, I have to say.

I mean, granted, it was a pretty big order this time around. But there are reasons for that. Partly I was running out of a lot of stuff that I don't replace very often - icing sugar, powdered milk, tuna for the tuna broccoli lemon pasta, stuff like that. Mostly it was because there are new recipes. For instance, I have plans in the direction of a white chocolate and raspberry cheesecake - well, assuming that the Amazon guy can get in with the pie plate I ordered. I also ordered ramekins and picked up some ready-made gluten-free puff pastries with a view to making chicken and mushroom pie. And little chocolate dessert pots. And, once my rolling pin finally gets here ... gluten-free pierogis. I have missed pierogis, and apparently while they're a little finicky to make with gluten-free flour, they hold their shape very well while boiling, so hey. Also I found out that gluten-free toad in the hole is pretty easy, so that's another one I got fixings for.

This is very optimistically assuming I have any energy left to me at the end of busy days, honestly. But I do have to make the cheesecake - the best before date on my raspberries is tomorrow and fruits like that have a short shelf life.

So basically all of the everything is fairly untenable just now. Hell, I can't even decide what I want to do about dinner at this point. I had ordered myself a nice steak that I planned to make, but unfortunately they were out of stock so that's my main idea about dinner not going to happen unless I brave the great outdoors. Which I do not have the energy to do, and anyway, I have food at home. It just takes a little more effort than I necessarily wanted to spend at 8:30pm after a hard day and two hours of overtime.

It's fine. I'll cope. Probably the tuna broccoli lemon pasta or something.

[beautifulreflections]

Blog Post 1: "Hurty" Thirty

“Hurty” Thirty

“Hurty” thirty my husband calls the thirtieth year of life. He likes to use the analogy that people are like cars, always deteriorating. In my most Christian voice I said, “I rebuke that lie in the name of Jesus.” Sure, we were getting older, but I didn’t have to claim ailments just because of that. In fact, I refused to claim ailments and sicknesses just because of the increase in years. ‘I claim health and wellness’ I thought to myself.

I used to run cross country. I was terrible at track and way too slow to be a help to my long-legged teammates, but I found out that I did have endurance. I still remember attempting to race in the four by four. The baton was handed to me and I was off, only to literally stop right before the finish line because sprinting was not my thing. There were students in the stands who pointed and laughed. It was an awful day, but I did learn that I was a long-distance runner equipped for slow and steady progress.

So, I found my place with the other long-distance runners on the cross-country team. I never won a race, but I always finished. That had to count for something right? It did for me. As I grew and matured over the years, I learned the value of endurance. Pressing forward amid struggle was a gift, and it was cultivated in cross-country racing. “The mind is the athlete” my coach would always say. So, I am challenging myself, mind, body, and Spirit at the start of this new year to kick some old hurt bearing habits.

During Thanksgiving and all the way past Christmas I overindulged. I had cakes, cookies, pies, Christmas candy, and tons of hot chocolate. Yes, I’m an adult and I love hot chocolate. I honestly even love to put the little marshmallows on top with some whipped cream for good measure. I act like I make hot chocolate for my two kids, but it’s mostly for me. I enjoy our Dunkin Donuts dates just as much as they do. After all, who can say no to a sugar laden drink and donut that keeps you going until your next fix? Not me!

Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You know. Do you also keep your Christmas candy in your room, so no one eats it? I do. And sharing the Christmas candy, well, is it so hard to give up those Haribo gummy bears and Godiva chocolates. I know it is. Because sugar is addictive. Between all the candy, creamers, cupcakes, and Christmas treats that are on sale now, it’s so hard to say no. Right? Exactly! And as I write this to you, I currently have a sugar headache because it’s been seven days of no sweet and addictive treats.

That’s right. You heard me. As I type this out, I am longingly staring at the Santa Claus Christmas bag which houses my beloved cookies, candies, and Hu chocolate bars. As it turns out, just because it’s vegan chocolate doesn’t mean it’s healthy for you. I know. When I found this out, I was so disappointed too. But here’s the truth, studies show that when we eat sugar it releases dopamine in our bodies, which just keeps us coming back to it for the next high. According to Healthy Simple Life, sugar can even be more addictive than cocaine. That’s sobering for sure.

Now that we are on the same page, I want to tell you why I’m what I’m doing. I was complaining to my husband about two weeks ago. “Ugh. These pants are too tight.” And He simply said, “Get new ones.” I considered it for way longer than I should have then said, “I don’t need to get new pants. I need to lose weight.” Friends, I’ve been the same size since I graduated from high school. I say that with overwhelming gratitude, but I also realize that if I keep up these unhealthy habits then I will not remain this size much longer.

My husband ruined me. (It’s easier to blame him that to actually take responsibility.) Before we got married salad was my favorite food and I chose it above almost every other food. Then I got married, and now I love sweets. My husband does too. So, we both have gotten into this unhealthy routine of living life for today, and that includes copious amounts of sugar. Of course, we wouldn’t want to admit that to anyone, but today I’m being brave and telling you.

After New Year's Eve, I decided that I had to give it a rest. All the sugar was hurting my body, making me dependent, exasperating my acid reflux, and making me feel stiff at music class when I was dancing with the children I teach. Forty days of no sweet treats or delicious donuts sounds daunting, especially when your family isn’t fasting from sugar too.

So, I am doing these forty days without sugar to purify my temple, this body that God has given me. Beauty starts within and I want my body to be a healthy place so that I can radiate without hindrance. After these first forty days, I will be implementing healthier eating habits, introducing less processed sugars (stevia, monk fruit), experimenting with wholesome cooking, and abstaining from sugar (all sugars) one day a week.

Join me in the highs and lows of this new journey I’m on. And, if you feel so led, drop the sugar with me and cultivate your inner beauty so that others will see and join us in making health and wellness a lifestyle. Let’s choose to be truly beautiful inside and out.

References:

Anna Schaefer. Experts Agree: Sugar Might Be as Addictive as Cocaine. Heathline, https://www.healthline.com/health/food-nutrition/experts-is-sugar-addictive-drug.

[iliketrainmen]

Okay okay I have very strong opinions on these so I am allowing myself to express them just this once. There are probably one or two hot takes in here.

Candy corn: I don't understand why it's so hated. Is it a meme? Some sort of sick joke? I don't know, but they're beyond underrated because of it. They have just the right amount of squish, making it satisfying but not difficult or painful to bite into. The texture is phenomenal and there's just the right amount of sweetness. They're also just small enough to let you choose how many you eat without pressuring you to eat a lot within one bite. A little bit of personal bias here due to the fact that they don't contain milk which I'm grateful for because I'm lactose intolerant. What I'm not grateful for is that they're almost entirely sugar, which I am not grateful for as a sugar intolerant. However, the fact that they're small enough for me to control how much I eat mostly negates lost points from that. 10/10 (I've never had a problem with candy corn before and I'm almost convinced people hate it for the bit.)

Licorice: If you have an entire genre of licorice known for being... controversial in taste, I don't think that's a good sign for your entire overall brand. Either way, I suppose I should've taken the "black licorice bad" take as foreshadowing because I actually hate these elongated, over-sweetened mockeries of fusillini. Their taste is horrid, they're way too chewy for my liking, and they're far too long. Just one of these is enough to make me sick for an hour or two. The only redeeming part about them is their texture, which is almost okay enough to justify the taste. 4/10. It would've been a two but I remembered my dad likes these and so I'll give it pity points.

Peanut butter + chocolate: I will never stop eating these, no matter how ill they make me. Like, seriously, its a problem; I get near bed-ridden sick from the sugar and lactose intolerance hitting me at the same time at full force, but I— for some reason— deem it worth it. They're like a match made in heaven for candies. The nuttiness and savor of the peanut butter mixed with the sweetness of chocolate is a gift from the gods I'd reckon. An apology for making humans sentient. The worst practical joke ever played on me by the universe. I feel so bad for people who cannot have these; these rank high if not the highest on my list of candy types. Absolutely heaven. 9/10 (the fact that they melt so easily is a bummer. I hate having stuff left behind on my hands.)

Mint-chocolate: This one is incredibly decisive for me. On one hand: rarely have I ever had a mint-chocolate candy taste good for me. On the other hand: mint chocolate ice cream exists and is my favorite flavor. The candies are just... way too minty and overshadow the chocolate aspect far too much for any enjoyment; if I wanted this much minty I would've gone and drank a cup of mouthwash. The textures of the mint and chocolate don't go together well at all for me; it causes me to writhe whenever I am reminded of it. However, the ice cream variant (and the girl scout cookies. God those are so good) make up for the horrors of the candies. So, I am relatively indifferent here. It entirely depends on the form of the mint and chocolate you're eating. 6/10 (ice cream and girls scouts hard carried this one.)

Sour candies: I don't hate them, but I don't love them. Occasionally I'm in the mood for sour candy or I'm not, the latter being more common. However, I will give sour candy credit, they're very good at the job they do, especially the chewy variants. They have a strong taste of sour that makes your eyes water. They're chewy enough to where you've probably sucked all of the sour out once you've finished chewing. They're small enough to give you a strong hit of sour, but not too much to overwhelm you. They serve a specific purpose in the candy world and I can respect them for that, even if I only rarely enjoy them. (8/10. Only because if you eat way too many you can make your mouth bleed. Not a problem most people will encounter, but I'm docking points nonetheless.)

candy discourse, reblog w/ your opinions on

• candy corn • licorice • peanut butter + chocolate • mint + chocolate • sour candies

[mollymarymarie]

Remus should make some pickled herring chocolates

What what WHAT WHAT WHAT

This is a real thing??? AND I THOUGHT BACON AND CHOCOLATE WAS WEIRD????

[alltooreid]

I Think He Knows

Y/N has a huge crush on Spencer Reid, so huge she embarrasses herself every time she tries to talk to him. She is convinced he is aware to all her pathetic attempts at flirting and just chooses to ignore it, but turns out Spencer may be a little more clueless than she thought.

A/N: Hope yall enjoy this cute fluffy fic! I’ve been having a rough couple of days so writing a fun fluff like this was really comforting :) yes it is inspired by the t swift song, but you don’t need to know the song to read and enjoy! also my requests are open so let me know what you want to see! (also sorry if this is kind of short, but i’ve been super busy and wanted to put something out :)))

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: a cute pining fluff fic

Word Count: 2.3K

Content Warnings: mentions of alcohol, otherwise none.

“He got that boyish look that I like in a man I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands No one understands”

“He has to know Penelope, I’m not exactly subtle.”

You and Penelope spent the majority of your lunch breaks in her office, discussing anything and everything. Recently however, the point of contention had been a certain young genius. One who you had a huge crush on.

“Spencer Reid may be a genius, and one of the best profilers I have ever seen but he most certainly does not know,” she said, as she drizzled more dressing on her salad.

“He has to, it feels like everyone knows. . . Do you think everyone knows?”

She shrugged, “They might, I know my Chocolate Thunder hasn’t picked up on it yet.”

“You haven’t told him? It’s already been a week since I’ve told you! How did you keep it a secret for so long?”

“You asked me very nicely not to tell anyone! Plus this one seems really important to you. I don’t want to go around telling people and for Reid to hear it in office gossip.”

You smiled, “Well you Penelope Garcia are the best, best friend ever.”

“You know it, now I know you desperately want to repay me for my services, and you can by giving me those exact ranch packets you have in your bag,” she said.

“They’re all yours, now let’s discuss something other than my pathetic schoolgirl crush. Like how stupid Kevin’s sweater was today.”

“Kevin? The other internal affairs technical analyst? Yeah what the heck was he wearing?”

“You know, I’m tired of having to carry the weight of the brains, looks and fashion sense out of the two of us,” you said. “Though, that is a good way to gather attention . . . I wonder if Spencer would actually hold a conversation with me if I wore something as ugly as that.”

She laughed, “You know I think that might send you backwards.”

You stabbed your lettuce, “At this point I’ll try anything.”

Before Penelope could respond, someone interrupted your lunch, your only other friend on the BAU team, Emily Prentiss.

“Oh hi Y/N! How are you!”

“I’m good Emily, what kind of gross things are you here to deliver today?” you and Emily joined the FBI at around the same time, and found comfort in the fact that you were both total try-hards. Emily was going to eat lunch with you and your fast friend Penelope, at least on days when she was in the office for lunch, but you and her both agreed that she should eat lunch with the team so that they can get used to having her around.

“Just some paperwork, no cases yet, knock on wood. Also I just wanted to say hello! What are you guys eating?” she asked, pulling up a chair.

“Some salads from that takeout veggie place PG is always talking about. I told you I was going vegetarian right?” “You did not! That’s great Y/N! We need to talk more, like we used to when we first started here,” she sighed, then perked up, “We should have girls night! Remember how fun it was that night at the bar? With Brad the real FBI agent?”

“Yes! We should! You know, Gideon’s replacement comes tomorrow, we should celebrate!” Garcia said.

“You know, I don’t know if the best way to celebrate a new agent is by drinking without them, but I’m down. We’ll toast our girls night to agent Rossi. Someone ask JJ if she’s busy.”

JJ was not busy, but when you and Emily asked, Morgan overheard.

“So am I not invited to the party?”

“Well it was supposed to be girls night . . . but I think PG would throw a fit if I turned down her 2nd favorite person in this building, so I guess you can come,” you teased. “You should come too Spencer!”

“I don’t know, that’s not really my thing . . “

“Oh come on! I know I would love to see you there,” you then realized that you were embarrassing yourself being so forward. “And I’m sure everyone else would too!”

“Alright, I’ll come, but I’m not drinking.” he said firmly. 

Before you could respond, Penelope magically appeared. “Good, you can be completely sober when Y/N gets wasted and embarrasses herself,” she said.

“PENELOPE! I’m not the light weight here! you’ll see Spencer, she’s actually awful. Two shots in and she’ll be on the floor,” this was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Spencer grimaced. “But it’ll be so much fun! You have to be there! You already said yes!”

“I just don’t know if seeing all of my coworkers get drunk while I watch is my idea of a fun evening. . .”

“Trust me! I’ll even stay sober with you, so we can judge them together. It’ll be a blast.”

“Ok, I’ll be there . . . but for now I need more coffee,” he pulled his chair out and walked towards the office kitchen. You silently cheered, forgetting how people were still standing around you.

“Well,” you awkwardly laughed, “um, I guess I better be getting back to my neck of the woods. I’m not a hot shot profiler like the rest of you guys . . . so see you all later!” You tried to escape before anyone interrogated you about your conversation with Spencer. However, a certain profiler followed quickly behind you. 

“So. . . you and pretty boy huh?”

“Shut it Morgan.”

{⋅. ♪ .⋅}

You stayed true to your word that night, Spencer stuck to water and you enjoyed a diet soda. The bartender, who you had grown fairly used to seeing on your many nights out, was shocked to hear you didn’t want any alcohol in it. 

It’s probably a good thing that you didn’t drink, you already embarrassed yourself enough in front of Spencer fully sober.

“So Spencer, you know that new bookstore you said you were going to go to after work a couple weeks ago?”

“New bookstore . . .? Oh yeah! What about it?”

“Well after I heard you talking about it I decided to check it out . . . It’s really nice there! I go like every other night now! We should totally go together sometime.” Luckily, you were sober enough to keep a secret: the fact you were only going so much in the hopes of running into him.

“Oh really? If I’m being honest I wasn’t super impressed with their selection, it was mostly contemporary fiction. And all in English . . . Not really my thing,” when he saw the way your face dropped he quickly changed his tone, “but it’s great if that’s your thing!”

This. Is. Humiliating. The amount of times you had gone and bought books from the bookstore, you were there almost every night hoping to run into him after work and start a conversation. You felt stupid, of course he wouldn’t want to go on a book store date with you. If Spencer Reid didn’t like you so much that he wouldn’t even go to a bookstore with you, there’s no chance at a relationship.

“Oh haha, yeah you’re right it’s totally lame. . .”

“Didn’t you just say you went there all the time?”

“No! When did I say that? You must be drinking Dr. Reid,” you said, quickly hopping off your bar stool, and running towards Morgan and Garcia, not turning around to see how confused Spencer was, but only being able to imagine him as relieved. Relieved he didn’t have to make conversation with you anymore.

“I’m blowing this PG, he totally hates me.”

Morgan laughed, “Y/N, you’re acting silly, this isn’t high school, we aren’t seventeen, stop dancing around it and just go ask him out.”

“Morgan, he doesn’t want to go to a bookstore with me, no way he’s agreeing to a date.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, maybe he’s just not in the mood to go?”

“You go ask him then, 20 bucks he says yes.”

“You’re on Y/N/N.”

7 minutes later Morgan returned and without a word pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and deposited it into your hand. “Sorry, Y/N.”

Penelope then piped up, “I’m telling you Y/N, he just doesn’t know. That boy is clueless.”

You scoffed, “I think he knows Penelope. I’ve made it pretty clear.”

“Have you told him?”

You were thrown off, “Um, no but-”

“Well then you haven’t made it clear enough, have you sugar?”

You almost said something, but you couldn’t really think of a good rebuttal for the argument. So instead, you downed Penelope’s half dranken frozen margarita, and headed back over to Spencer.

“Hey!” he said as you made your way back over, “I was wondering where you went, after you left Derek came over and asked to go to that bookstore with me, isn’t that extraordinary. . .”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” you blurted out.

“What?”

You sighed, “I’ve had a crush on you since like, forever, and I keep planning all these ways to ask you subtly but it’s just not working so I’m asking now. Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“You like me? I didn’t know that . . .”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not, I thought you were just being nice. You’re nice to everyone and I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

You smirked, “Get your hopes up? Does that mean you’re obsessed with me too Dr. Reid?”

He laughed in response, “Yeah, you could definitely say that.”

You dug through your purse and pulled out your keys, “Ok, then let’s get out of here.”

He paled, “And do what?”

“We’re going on our first date.”

He smiled, and you both got up off your bar stools and headed out the door, ignoring Morgan’s snide remarks as you passed. 

{⋅. ♪ .⋅}

You couldn’t help but smile as you drove. Every couple of seconds you couldn’t help but look over at Spencer, getting lost in his brownish hazel eyes, which looked indigo in the night. He would smile, the kind of smile people write silly little romance songs about and spend verses to describe, and tell you to pay attention to the road before you run off of it. You would laugh, tell him to calm down. Although originally you had an idea of where you were going, now you just wanted to drive in circles, to bask in this memory. 

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“Think about it Doctor Reid . . .” you replied, teasing him in the way you’ve imagined since you met him. 

You pulled up to that little bookstore on 16th avenue, the one you couldn’t stop going to out of the sheer chance Spencer might be there, the one that was obviously closed this late at night, but was too perfect not to spend your first date at. 

“Although this is beautifully symbolic, it’s almost 2 in the morning, this place closes at 8. We’re 5 hours, 49 minutes and 17 seconds late.”

You smiled and pulled out your ring of keys, “You know, when I spent hours a night hanging around here after work, hoping that you would happen to come shop for books and see me here too, the woman who owns this store got pretty curious. So I told her why I was here, and after she got done laughing at me she offered me a key, so that if I ever had the guts to ask you out, I could take you here no matter what.” You turned the key and swung the door open, gesturing him inside and locking the door behind you, “but we have to keep the lights off, so no one comes by and tries to get in.”

You and Spencer sit in the non-fiction section, and enjoy the silence for a few seconds before you have an idea, “Read me something Reid.”

He reached up, pulling a book off of the shelf without looking, “Are you sure, A Brief History of 1491: Life in America Before Columbus, is first date material?”

“Although that book is anything but brief, anything you read to me will sound stunning coming from your pretty mouth.”

So he begins to read, attempting to slow down to a reasonable pace but still going abnormally fast. You didn’t care though, more than you listened to the history of the late fifteenth century you watched Spencer’s hands. They’re really nice hands.

His right followed the words as he read aloud and his left helped hold the book. He wiggled the fingers on his left hand unconsciously as he spoke, getting into the words of the book. 

After about 25 pages he glanced over at you, and you could almost hear the gears turning in his head. After a second he went back to the page, and continued reading. You didn’t think anything of it until a couple minutes later, when his hand made its way to your left thigh.

He held it and you leaned into him, and you both stayed like that until you fell asleep hours later, with his head resting on top of yours. 

At 8:30 Mrs. Betts, the owner of the bookstore, found you and Spencer, arms around each other, the book thrown aside. She smiled, glad to know you had taken her up on her offer. She went to go wake you up but glanced at her watch. She didn’t have to officially open until 10. 

She could definitely spare a couple of minutes. 

“I want you, bless my soul I ain't gotta tell him I think he knows”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

ATR’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies​

[pillage-and-lute]

Geralt attempts to bake cookies. That’s it that’s the prompt

Hi Cabbage-with-legs!

This is a Modern AU with Tired Dad! Geralt. + bonus pining

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“Geralt? Geralt what’s all this.”

Geralt’s shoulders slumped and he scraped dejectedly at the blackened hockey pucks on the cookie pan. “Cookies.”

“I’ve seen charcoal briquets less black, dear heart. What’s this about?” Jaskier said, leaning his shoulder against his best friend.

Geralt sighed and leaned into the touch, hardly even registering Jaskier’s neon pink Hawaiian shirt. “PTA bake sale. They need me to bake something so I’m trying but, well...” Geralt shuffled a spatula under one pathetic hockey puck and flicked it into the trash.

“Lucky you,” Jaskier said. “I am a world class baker.”

“You burn water.”

“Cooking and baking are very different, my friend.”

“We aren’t friends,” Geralt huffed.

“Not if you keep up that attitude. How much food does the bake sale need?”

Geralt sat in a creaky chair and looked at the ugly yellow wallpaper of his kitchen. “They said anything helps, but the school is really underfunded, they need to make a lot of money off of this.”

Jaskier sat across from Geralt and bumped his foot against his friend’s boot. He smiled sadly. He saw Geralt almost every day, and Geralt never saw him, not really. He never looked at Jaskier and saw him.

It didn’t matter because Jaskier saw Geralt, and would continue to do so until Geralt threw him from his life.

“Alright,” Jaskier said standing up. “It’s Saturday, so Triss won’t have work, I’ll text her, she can bring by some bread.”

“Don’t bother her,” Geralt said.

“She’ll want to help. Yennefer too, she’ll bring something by the bake sale as well.”

None of them had much money, but baking, well, for Ciri they could all do something.

“You and I,” Jaskier said, “We’re going to bake up a storm.”

Geralt stood. “No, Jaskier. Go away.”

“No, you need my help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Fine,” Jaskier said, hand on one jutted hip, “Then take a bite out of one of those.” He nodded his head towards the blackened tray.

Geralt growled, but it was acquiescence. 

“Great,” Jaskier said. “Now, lets start this again.” He tidied up the kitchen, loading the dirty dishes into Geralt’s ancient dishwasher and pressing start. He knew Geralt’s kitchen as well as he knew his own. When Renfri had died and left Ciri and Geralt all by themselves he’d done all the cooking here. Geralt had just sat in the chair in the living room and wouldn’t let go of Ciri. Jaskier had practically hand fed him.

Triss had called it sitting Shiva, even though she was the only Jewish person among them. From what she’d told Jaskier, though, Geralt had been doing something similar, even if he didn’t know it.

Now, though, they both moved about the kitchen. Geralt measured flour and sugar as directed and patiently took the bowl of frosting Jaskier pressed into his hands, stirring as directed.

Jaskier moved around him, orbiting Geralt like he always did, adding almond extract and nutmeg and an extra dash of salt because Geralt used too little. At one point their little dance messed up and Jaskier placed one floury hand on Geralt’s chest to keep him from backing up against the open oven door. 

He looked at the dusty handprint on Geralt’s black hoodie, right over his heart. Geralt smiled softly.

“Thanks, I would have fallen right into the oven, there,” he said. 

Jaskier chuckled, “Yeah, Hansel, can’t eat you yet I have to fatten you up,” he poked Geralt in his rock hard abs. “You’d be awfully stringy.”

Geralt rumbled a laugh, deep in his chest. “I guess I’m not prime cannibal fodder, huh?” He crossed to the laptop, open to their recipe. “What’s next?”

“I’m sure there’s someone who’d take a bite out of you,” Jaskier said absently. “But we’re done with the cookies now that they’re in the oven, onto the cake.”

“We’re making a cake?” Geralt said. He looked in dismay at the cookies already in the oven.

“Unless you’d rather make the pies first,” Jaskier said. “And yes, we are. You and I are going to nail this PTA bake sale.” He watched the way Geralt sighed, the rise and fall of his shoulders, the little roll they did to loosen the tension. 

He patted Geralt on one such shoulder, looking into a pale hazel gaze. “Drink some coffee, we’ll be up a while.”

Geralt moved to start the coffee. “Is the--”

Jaskier handed him the little scoop that Geralt used to measure out his coffee and Geralt turned around to face Jaskier.

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say,” he said.

“I did, I know you.” Geralt stepped close and looked at Jaskier with lazer focus. 

Please, Jaskier thought. For once in your life just, see me. 

“You have flour in your hair,” Geralt said, then turned back to the coffeemaker.” 

Jaskier held in a sigh and began pulling up the recipe he liked for chocolate cake. “Do you have cocoa?” He asked. 

“Cupboard,” Geralt grunted. There where multiple cupboards in the kitchen, but Jaskier knew which one Geralt meant.

They descended again into their orbiting dance.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Morning dawned to find a messy kitchen and two men asleep at the kitchen table. Ciri looked around, registered the mountain of cookies and muffins, four pies and two cakes, then got herself cereal. Jaskier woke up, the seam of his sleeve had pressed into his face in his sleep.

“Have you kissed my dad yet?”

Jaskier blinked away sleep to see Ciri, still in her Wonder Woman pajamas, eating a bowl of coco puffs while standing in the middle of the kitchen. He made to stand to give her the chair, but she shook her head.

“Stay put, you must’ve worked hard. When I went to bed Dad had just burned his second batch of cookies. I repeat, have you kissed my dad yet?”

“Um, no.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t want to kiss me,” Jaskier said. “He looks right through me.”

“Hmmm,” Ciri said. It was so like her father that Jaskier had to smile.

“Hello darling,” Triss said, closing the door with her foot behind her. “Jas, you’re up, I figured you’d be asleep...oh,” she glanced at Geralt, conked out on the table, then looked at the pile of baked goods. “Nice job, I brought Challah, soda bread, and Irish brown bread.”

Jaskier stood and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, I appreciate it, Triss.”

“Aunt Triss,” Ciri said. “Do you think my dad wants to kiss Jaskier?”

“Of course, why?”

“He doesn’t even really know I exist,” Jaskier said. 

“He does too.”

“He knows I exist but he looks right through me, Triss, I’m a ghost in his life.”

The front door creaked open then slammed, startling Geralt awake. 

“Whazzit?”

“It’s probably Yennefer,” Jaskier said.

Geralt blinked his eyes hurriedly and brushed back his pale hair. 

Yennefer stomped in and set down a tray full of lemon bars. “For the bake sale.” She looked up at Geralt, who was smiling at her. “You have frosting on your face.”

Jaskier stepped into the other room and Triss followed. Ciri stepped out after them, still spooning cereal into her mouth.

“He sees her,” Jaskier whispered.

“You like Yen,” Triss said. 

“I do, she’s terrifying and fun, but I just wish he looked at me like that, like he noticed me.”

“He notices you,” Ciri said. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt called from the other room.

Ciri smirked. “See?”

Jaskier reentered the kitchen. “What’s up.” 

“I’m loading stuff into my car, help.” 

Jaskier promptly took a few trays of muffins and began to walk them out to Roach, Geralt’s ‘84 Chevy Nova. It wasn’t a beautiful car but Geralt loved her, and Jaskier had grown to love her too. The four of them, watched by Ciri, loaded up the baked goods and Jaskier went to get in the passenger seat. 

“You’re not coming,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier faltered but recovered well. “Oh, well of course. And since I’m your very best friend--”

“Not my friend.”

“I’ll stay and clean up the kitchen,” Jaskier finished.

Triss made a sympathetic face at him, kissed Ciri on the forehead, and left. Yen nudged him in a mostly friendly way and swept out after her. 

Ciri watched him clean up, sitting on the counter in the corner of the kitchen. Unusually, neither of them said a word the entire time. When the last dish was put away she said.

“You know, I’m not sure Dad sees many people, not sees them. I’m not always sure he sees me. It doesn’t mean you aren’t important to him.”

Jaskier smiled wanly. “You’re very wise for fourteen.”

“I am. Extremely.”

“He sees her.”

“That’s because he’s slightly scared of her.”

Jaskier leaned with both hands on the counter and stared between them. “Ciri, you know I love you dearly?”

“Yes.”

“And I won’t stop loving you. Not ever. But I might not come around so often. I promise it doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you.”

“Just that you think Dad doesn’t care about you.”

“I know he does,” Jaskier said, looking up and crossing to where Ciri sat. “But he can’t even call me his friend. I can’t do that anymore. I need to...I need to not do that. At least for a while.”

“I’ll miss you,” Ciri said, setting down her empty bowl and hugging Jaskier. “He’ll miss you too.”

“I’m going to miss both of you too, but I need to do this. I’ll still come to every last one of your gymnastics meets. And I’ll still be your Uncle Jas.”

Cir pulled back from her hug, jaw set but her eyes dry. “I wish you could be my papa instead.” Jaskier kissed her on the forehead. 

“Bye Ciri, I’ll see you next week when you get another medal.”

She waved at him as he left.

Jaskier didn’t look up from the bus floor the whole ride back to his shithole apartment. The ugly green carpet on the floor of his room still looked the same. He shrugged and began to work on grading papers. There was no more he could do. 

-- -- -- -- -- --

Jaskier was surprised to find that the day had passed easily. He’d only had to turn his thoughts away from Geralt every time he started to think of him. 

Then there was a knock on the door and Jaskier suddenly couldn’t stop thinking of Geralt. There he was, drenched, from the sudden rainstorm and dripping in his apartment’s doorway. 

Geralt shoved a fist out, holding some supermarket flowers, the daisies they dyed in obnoxious colors. Usually Jaskier found them ugly but these, battered and very, very neon, were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

“What?--”

“We aren’t friends I want to kiss you,” Geralt said in one breath.

“What?!”

“I don’t want to kiss friends. I want to kiss you a lot. All the time.”

“You never even look at me,” Jaskier said.

“I do, just not when you’re looking.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to catch me staring at your lips I want to kiss you, Jaskier.” He stared into Jaskier’s eyes, unwavering. “I see you.”

“Who told you?”

“Triss. I came home and the kitchen was clean and Ciri was sort of mad at me and you were gone so I called her and panicked,” Geralt paused for breath. “And she told me. I see you. I promise I do. maybe not all the time but I’m not good at noticing people all the time I’m...Renfri could do that. I can’t. You can notice people all the time but I just don’t. I’m sorry. I do notice you though, I see you, I promise.”

“You see me,” Jaskier said. He watched Geralt’s eyes as they looked downwards. At his lips.

“I don’t want to kiss friends, Jaskier,” Geralt whispered. “Please, please may I kiss you.”

Jaskier nodded.

Geralt tasted like the peppermint Chapstick that he bought around Christmas and hoarded all through the year. A kiss had never been so good. 

Geralt pulled back and handed Jaskier the flowers. “You don’t like this kind but I like them because they remind me of you.”

“They do?”

“They’re bright and if you were a flower Ciri said you’d be a daisy.”

Jaskier smiled. “You got her advice, on what flowers to get me.”

Geralt nodded. “She knows these things. There’s cookies, back home. I bought some from the bake sale. Someone made white chocolate macadamia nut and I know they’re your favorite.”

“Fine, Geralt. I’ll go back home with you.”

“You’ll stay?”

“I’m not moving all my stuff in tonight, but yes, eventually I’ll stay.”

“Good.”

“Ciri’s going to have to stop calling me uncle now. It’ll give people the wrong idea.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It got away from me. Whoops. Happy ending for all, though.

[itsclydebitches]

Why do people get hung up on whether a gay person in media is a good or bad representation of them? I'm gay and I can tell you we aren't all the same? Being gay is our 1 common trait. So as long as they're gay then you've done it. Gay people can be kind, mean, racist, open, kinky, reserved, shy, outgoing, sexist, and literally anything else under the human experience.

Because I am perpetually hungry, let's tell a story about cookies.

You are a bright-eyed, optimistic, baker in the making. Your goal is to wow the world with your culinary skills, so of course you head to The Best Baking School for your degree. Over the course of your studies you learn how to perfect a thousand different cakes, an equal number of pies, and more versions of brownies than most would even assume exist. But cookies... oh, cookies are your passion! You can't wait to learn about the wealth of cookies you can make too. Then, sure enough, that part of your education finally arrives.

Funny thing is though, it's just chocolate chip.

Surely there's been some mistake? The cookie experience is vast and nuanced! Why in the world are your instructors — supposedly the best in the world — reducing cookies to a single class about baking chocolate chip and chocolate chip alone? Hell, why are cookies so sparse in the curriculum as a whole? You're never asked to bake them as a demonstration, or practice with them, and they're definitely not a given across everyone else's baking experience. Cakes, pies, and brownies... they're the default. Cookies are comparatively rare and when you do get to study them, everyone is super focused on the chocolate chip.

Then you graduate and head out into the world, only to find that pretty much everyone is as cookie-blind as your school. A few years back you never would have found cookies in the average grocery store and yeah, the fact that there's a cookie section now is great, but it's, uh... all chocolate chip! Many bakeries still don't carry cookies at all, but when they do it's - again - chocolate chip. Chocolate chip out in restaurants. Chocolate chip at the bake sale. Your friend invites you over and proudly presents a massive sweets tray that includes a single, sad looking, chocolate chip cookie. They beam at you in pride. Isn't it so great?

"Uh..." you say. "Well..."

Every once in a while someone will switch out milk chocolate for dark chocolate, or add nuts alongside chocolate chips. One bakery was even crazy enough to exclude chocolate chips entirely! Crazy according to the press, anyway. Because for years now you've been shaking your head, wondering what exactly is so progressive about realizing that sugar cookies exist. You've found other bakers interested in cookies and, by god, there are thousands. So many flavors! Gluten free and allergy conscious! Someone even made a sweets tray that was predominantly cookies, can you believe it? The problem is, almost none of them are mainstream. Your friend baking cookies out of their personal kitchen is doing fantastic work, but their baking doesn't have the impact that those grocery chains and established bakeries do. Their work isn't going to fix your school's curriculum. Too many people still think that cookies are exotic somehow. They're not the default. And when they do acknowledge their existence, it's chocolate chip over and over. Until one of them adds those nuts and suddenly the whole country is losing its mind about how inspired, creative, progressive their baking is. Meanwhile, you're ready to scream because that baker doesn't even know that something as "exotic" as a gingersnaps exist!

The worst part? Most of these cookies are... bad. Like they exist, yeah, but good god most don't taste good. And that's the whole point of a cookie?? What is the point of buying cookies if the cookies themselves are awful? You go to these bakeries, these restaurants, your friend's house, and you try the very limited cookies on offer, only to find that they've been sloppily baked. Doesn't anyone care that the baker burned their cookies to a crisp? That another straight up forgot to add sugar? This one dropped his on the floor and still tried to serve it to you! But the overall sense is that you should be grateful for getting any cookies at all. "That cookie is an offense to my taste buds," you say and people shake their head at you, disappointed. "I liked the taste of it," one says. "If you don't like it, go buy a different cookie!" Well... easier said than done. "It's not that bad," another says, shrugging in defeat. "I mean yeah, I don't really like it, and the baker stopped making them two years ago... but I'm just happy to have had any cookie at all, you know?" You do know, but that doesn't mean it's any less frustrating. You look at the hundreds of cakes available, these bakers spending decades perfecting their recipes, and wish cookies had even a fraction of that work put into them. You find people who agree with you, absolutely, but there's this this prevailing sense that a cookie is a cookie. Any cookie will do. Supposedly.

Except go long enough and you feel like you're ready to lose your mind. You take some poor person by the shoulders and go, "Doesn't this bother you? Doesn't this make you furious? There is more to the cookie world than these three flavors, 90% of which is chocolate chip! And we deserve well-made cookies, not the crap they've been upholding as the next culinary masterpiece!"

But this person just shakes their head. "Well of course there's more to cookies than three flavors. There's a huge variety of cookies! I know that."

"Yes, but the world isn't selling that variety."

"Of course they are! Just last week I had an oatmeal raisin. That's amazing!"

"Yeah and how many years did it take you to find that?"

"Well..."

"And how did that oatmeal raisin cookie taste?"

Your prisoner pulls a face. "Ugh, not good. Oatmeal raisin is definitely not for me. It's hard as a rock! I really don't understand why someone would want to eat that on a regular basis."

"But it's not supposed to be hard as a rock!" you cry, waving your arms. "That's the problem! Oatmeal raisin is so goddamn rare and then the one time we get it, it was badly baked. Of course people are turned off by it. Everyone who already loves oatmeal raisin is getting pissed because their favorite cookie is misrepresented, they're unlikely to see more of them now, and everyone is still serving the most tasteless chocolate chip cookies I've ever had, acting like this is the pinnacle of cookie baking! Do you even know that a macron exists?"

The person pats your hand consolingly. "Of course I do. My roommate's sister's boyfriend used to bake macrons, you know. I don't know why you're so hung up on this. Cookies can be whatever the baker wants them to be. Provided they're a flat-ish sweet cake, they're still a cookie!"

You hang your head, giving up. "Yes, they can be so many things, but they're not. Let me know if you ever find a bakery actually making the variety you keep acknowledging exists. Bonus points if those cookies are edible. My soul if they're delicious, as a cookie should be."

"You know," they say, still patting your hand. "There's a bakery making chocolate chip with dark chocolate next year. Everyone is talking about it. You should think about buying one before they take it off the menu!"

You contemplate just walking into the ocean.

Now, incredibly long metaphor concluded... switch out "cookies" for "queer rep"! The representation matters because no, just making them gay isn't enough right now. You're right that queer people can be anything under the sun, but right now media isn't providing us with that variety. It's not enough to acknowledge that such variety exists, it actually has to make it into our books and onto our screen. Taking just characters who identify as gay and putting aside the HUGE variety of other identities for a moment (of which we are mostly lacking in terms of rep), where are the gay asexuals? The gay people of color? The disabled gays? Trans gays? Did your gay character appear for just a handful of episodes? Were they killed off? Are they nothing more than a stereotype or comic relief? Is this the only gay character in your entire story? We need to ask questions like this because though gay people can be anything under the sun, our media landscape has only shown a miniscule portion of that variety.

Today, even in 2021, our representation of gay people is still pretty limited to:

You are only coded as gay and evil

You are only coded as gay and queerbaited

You are canonically gay, but a cis, ablebodied, white person

You are canonically gay, but were written terribly/killed off/punished by the narrative/generally making the real gay people watching you feel awful about their identity

You are canonically gay, but you're not human. Gotta other the queerness by making you an alien/robot/fantasy being

You are canonically gay and that's your entire existence. There is one (1) narrative of how you knew by the time you were four, never questioned your identity after that, suffered through a family that rejected you, and now all your major arcs revolve around being gay. You are gay and that is it.

Despite being a list of six, that's still incredibly limiting. Are there exceptions to such a list? Always, but that doesn't mean the list isn't still dominating. We can look at any individual gay character and say, "Of course they can be evil/white/killed off/a joke/etc. because gay people can be anything at all," but when we look at the trends, when we look at ALL the media together, we see that gay people aren't actually depicted as being anything... they're depicted as being these handful of things, severely limiting how gayness is represented. Bad rep. If you hit up the bakery and question why there's only versions of chocolate chip available yeah, the baker can go, "But cookies can be any flavor! Including chocolate chip!" They are not, technically, wrong. The problem is not that chocolate chip exists, but that chocolate chip dominates and other flavors are rare, ignored entirely, or baked so badly it's actively damaging to that flavor as a whole. Yeah, your gay character can be mean. Or kinky. Or murdered by the story. But when so many gay characters are mean and kinky and murdered by their stories — when you're not getting other versions to balance that out and gay characters are still rare enough that it's just 1-2 characters trying to carry representation for an entire franchise — you start realizing that the claim of "Gay people can be anything else under the human experience" is an easy way to shut down the conversation of whether that variety actually exists in our storytelling yet.

It's not enough for the baker to acknowledge that yeah, of course there are hundreds of cookie flavors and of course cookies taste great! They've actually got to learn how to bake them properly and fill up their store with them.

[river--ghost]

Parent Guidance Recommended

word count: 3,281

focus characters: Pacifica Northwest, Fiddleford H. McGucket

warnings: child neglect, implications of alcoholism, implications of infidelity, mugging, knives, threatening, generally awful people

summary: On the worst birthday she’s ever had, Pacifica finds herself seeking support from a source she’d least expect; the new owner of the once-Northwest Manor, her own former home.

Pacifica was turning fourteen on the Fourth of July. A perfect birthday. Perfect girl. Perfect family.

Her parents would throw a party. Like any Northwest party, with gorgeous, itchy lace ball gowns and impeccable etiquette, each word in every conversation spoken with flawless flow, with purposeful posture and respect-demanding mannerisms. A perfect party for perfect people, with perfect food prepared.

After claiming her designated ruby-studded chair at the dinner table, she would be shocked when her plate was revealed to her. Deep-fried Roareos. Stacked in a small sweet-powdered delicious heap in front of her, chocolately, cream-filled cookies, dipped in batter and deep-fried to perfection. Sugary. Messy. Pacifica had never had it before. How did her parents know she wanted to try it?

She turned her head to cast a quizzical look to her parents, who’d been watching her, holding each other with loving smiles directed at her. A warm feeling spread inside her like warm butter. She reached for a fork.. but hesitated, and hovered her hand over the plate instead. She casted another glance at her parents to see their reaction. No cold response was elicited so far. In fact, she could have sworn her father nodded in approval.

She delicately picked one of the cookies up with her thumb and forefinger, and raised it to her lips to nibble at it. Her senses were flooded with warm, sweet goodness. Just as amazing as she imagined. She stuffed the rest in her mouth, going so far as to lick her fingers. Her lips were coated with melted cream. She neglected the napkins beside her plate to instead lick the sugar mixture from her lips. Barbaric. But her parents didn’t seem to mind either of the actions. She thought she even heard an amused giggle from her mother.

“Sweetie, would you like your presents now or after you’re finished?” Priscilla— no, this was Mom— asked. Pacifica paused. She had a say? Were they not on a schedule? She supposed if she was given the option, she would love to open gifts while she snacked on the rest of the Roareos.

“Now, please,” the young blond girl responded. On cue, one of the butlers was beside her, placing a neatly-packaged gift box on her lap. A beautiful purple silk ribbon sat on top, holding it together. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt so eager to reveal its contents.

What was inside? Some comfy clothes? Paint, perhaps? A cute animal plush that would contrast the creepy porcelain dolls in her room? The possibilities were endless.

Delightfully, she tugged at it. The box opened. As she peered inside, her excitement dissolved. The warm feeling turned to ice.

The bell. The one her father carried on his person at all times. The one that willed his command in the mansion. The one Pacifica hated. Suddenly Preston was standing over her, slowly picking the bronze item up.

Loving smile gone, replaced with a disapproving, even disgusted scowl. She shrank in her seat.

“Pacifica Elise Northwest,” he boomed. “So it’s true. You’re mingling with the common, ignoble crowds these days.”

“No!” she found herself crying out. “It’s not like that! I have to!”

“Have to what? Work a lowly job as a waitress in that slobbish cesspit? At that- that disgusting, sorry excuse for a dining destination? THAT’S NOT ACCEPTABLE EVER. How can you call yourself a Northwest? How can you call yourself our daughter?”

The very first thought she woke up to was that it was too good to be real.

Tangled in her sheets, warm tears trickling down her cheeks. She sniffled and quickly wiped them away before slipping out of bed.

The house was dark. Silent. The clock on the wall read 7:52. Her parents’ bedroom was empty as she passed. It smelled of wine. They would not be back for a while. Pacifica found herself releasing a sigh, her tension easing a little, even if that meant she’d be spending her birthday alone for the very first time. She leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes, trying to recall the good part of the dream, trying to revive the taste of the sugary treat, but it was gone. Soured by the unreality of it. All it was doing was making her hungry belly ache.

When checking the refrigerator, cabinets and pantry and coming to the realization that all that was left was a loaf of bread, a half-empty tube of Bringles and a couple dinner kits. No breakfast food. Not even a single egg. Not even leftovers. Something like despair and disappointment blossomed inside her. She would have to eat at the diner again…

She snagged her wallet from the counter only to find her twenty had disappeared, leaving only a couple measly ones and fives and whatever coins were loose inside. She felt the tears building a little again and slapped the wallet shut to try to stifle them. There was a time she had nearly everything, but now after Weirdmaggedon, she couldn’t even trust that her own hard-earned cash wouldn’t be snagged if left around her own greedy birthgivers. Her strength was being sapped by the will not to burst into a sobbing fit. There was enough in there to cover breakfast at work when she got to Greasy’s, at least.

With her belly still growling, she changed out of her nightwear, threw on her apron and a pair of aviators and began the walk to work.

The day was a bright one, sunny and a little breezy. A pleasant temperature. It did not reflect how Pacifica felt. Despite the summer weather, she pulled her scarf over her head, casting shade over her face. The neighborhood streets were mostly void of people, every house gated off. Just because they lost the mansion did not mean the Northwests were living in squalor, but her spending money was strictly monitored. Her parents now enforced that any money she spent, she’d have to earn. A fourteen year old. A child. Just so her birthgivers could ensure a few extra dollars in their account.

Pacifica couldn’t help but feel the fanciness of the neighborhood was almost deceitful. Her own household was a prime example. Her own rumbling tummy was a prime example. She wondered if there were others who lived in these houses that had similar problems as hers. Unlikely here.. however there were definitely others, people who’d been pushed to extremes just to get by.

Whether that was the reason behind why Pacifica soon found herself being followed halfway through the trip, she didn’t know. The feeling of being watched intensified by the minute, and glances into the reflections of shop windows told her there was a person. They refused to let up for at least a couple of blocks, the likelihood that they were just going the same direction by chance was steadily decreasing. They probably saw her leaving the wealthier neighborhood. The young girl picked up her pace. It did her no good.

The next moments were a blur. Her arm was snatched. When she struggled, a slice put a stop to it. Her arm began to bleed. Something sharp pressed to her throat, stiffening every muscle in her body. Vulgar language was hurled at her, demanding cooperation before her purse was yanked from her shoulder, and she was thrown to the curb. She was left winded, bruised, panicked and hyperventilating. She struggled for her breath back.

Mugged. She’d been mugged for the few measly dollars she had on her. And the fact that her first thought after all that was concern for what her parents would think that she let those precious dollars be nicked in the first place.. it only increased her distraught. Her breaths hastened more and more, and she didn’t realize her tears had finally started to flow until she was already sprinting down the street, her vision muddled. Every step felt like thunder to her ears. Home. She just wanted to go home. Maybe she couldn’t be herself as much, and maybe she was always busy, under constant supervision. But at least there was stability. At least there was certainty of the future. At least it was comfortable, at least there was always food on the table, breakfast, lunch and dinner. At least her father never stumbled around reeking of alcohol while only Lord knew where her mother was. Maybe her parents weren’t the best to other people but at least she could be certain they were true to each other. At least she could pretend everything was fine.

Pacifica wasn’t sure how far she’d gone. She was sweaty, she felt gross and sticky. Her legs were sore, threatening to give out if she went any further. She was still bleeding. She ached everywhere. But she’d reached her destination. She stood at the bottom of a familiar, long driveway, and at the top, sitting on a large hill, towering over the town stood the proud family mansion. Waves of nostalgia and sorrow crashed over her. Everything felt so gross. Every memory tainted by the knowledge of her parents’ true nature. She couldn’t even speak to anyone, not even her parents. Who would listen to a rich brat whine about how she used to be richer? Certainly not any of the townsfolk.

She found herself staring at the manor for a while, not entirely sure what to do.

“...What am I doing here…?” Pacifica whispered, sniffling and reaching for the tissues she kept in her purse, only to be hit with the whirlwind of events that had just happened again. Her arm stung. She could barely hold herself upright. She felt so… so tired. She meekly wiped her nose on her sleeve, and started to turn around when suddenly she bumped into someone.

“Wo-ah there, kiddo, careful, better watch where ya—” a cheerful voice piped, before cutting itself off when the sight of Pacifica in her disheveled state registered. “Huh? Hey.. Ah’ know you.”

Color drained from Pacifica’s cheeks. This guy again.. Why was he here? She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks as she tried a witty remark, but — “Y-y-ea-h, well-, wh-o w-ou-uldn’-t-” — ultimately failing when her quivering body wouldn’t stop heaving sobs. Again she sniffled. Disgusting. In front of the hillbilly too.

McGucket’s face morphed into something like sympathy. He kneeled down to her height. “Ah- hey, what’s goin’ on kiddo? Are ya alright?”

Pacifica parted her lips. She wanted to say yes. Her instincts screamed at her to say yes. She could practically hear her birthgivers demanding her to say yes. She had to be perfect. She had to be flawless. She had to be stoic, proud, happy, for her family.

But that’s not what came out.

“n-NO!” she cried, her knees finally buckling as if the years of abuse weighing down on her shoulders finally came crashing down on top of her. Her face buried in her hands, sobbing violently into them. She wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay. Wails and cries escaped. She couldn’t stop the tears anymore. She was in so much pain, she was so alone. The sobs wouldn’t stop. The raging storm of emotion only continued to demolish her walls, clawing at her pride and self esteem. Everything she pretended to be crashed and burned at that moment.

Fiddleford had been a little stunned by the sudden breakdown, but he started to piece the situation together from the bits and pieces the poor girl was babbling. He didn’t get up and walk away like Pacifica was expecting him to. He stayed put, even placed his hand on her shoulder to try to console her. When she didn’t flinch away from him, the old man started rubbing circles on her back as she cried and cried. Fiddleford never was the best at comfort.. though he could only imagine how long this outburst had been bottled up, and he thought it best that Pacifica let it all out before trying to say anything.

It was a while before Pacifica’s sobs began to calm enough to allow her to speak in more coherent sentences. The story became clearer. She spoke about how her parents had mistreated her, like she was an accessory rather than a human being, a literal child. How things had been getting worse this past year since they were forced to move due to her father’s irresponsible stock market decisions during Weirdmaggedon, to preserve what fortune they had left. How she felt more at home at the diner than she ever did at her own residence. How she hardly saw her parents anymore. How everything had changed for the worst. The way her parents had become about money, even how they scolded her for ‘nagging’ about her birthday the previous day, when it had been the first time she brought it up in half a year. It all hurt terribly to speak of but Pacifica couldn’t help but notice the sudden weightless feeling after getting everything out. She was surprised to find Old Man McGucket was still listening.

“Y’know,” he spoke finally, “Ah knew a fella once who thought ‘e had everythin’ before ‘e lost it all too. ‘Should’a been there for ‘im like he needed.”

Pacifica was quiet for a moment. “..W..ho was he?”

Fiddleford only waved his hand. “Ol’ college buddy. Doin’ mighty fine these days. Now whaddya say we get off’a the street an’ patch up that lil’ ol’ scratch a’ yours inside?”

It tooka moment to register the question through his southern accent, but when she did, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “..I- inside..?”

Inside the mansion. Pacifica almost couldn’t believe it. Old Man McGucket was the one that bought the Northwest Manor. She wondered how on earth a former homeless man was possibly able to afford such a grand purchase, until peeks into a couple rooms along the hallway that had been filled with computers and strange machinery told her she didn’t know nearly as much about McGucket as she previously thought.

It was so strange walking through the hallways again. Everything was the same, but different. Was the grand rustic architecture and furniture always so beautiful? And… were those.. raccoons she was spotting out of the corner of her eyes?

McGucket led her to a room with a couch- a familiar silver-themed room with a certain carpet pattern. It looked nearly the same, except for the banjo leaning against the couch’s armrest, and maybe a few more stains than its previous flawless condition “for guests- that is, for guests to look at”. Despite her emotional state, she found herself smiling at the memory of her adventures with Dipper Pines, trying to bust that ghost… until she recalled the punishment her parents had made for her after that was all over. She began to feel a little sick. Her gaze dropped to the floor as McGucket trudged into the room, plopped onto the couch and patted the cushions beside him. Hesitantly, she followed him and did as gestured. It was.. weird to be back. She wiped her eyes again.

“How’d that’a happen?”

“..What?” the question hit her like a slap.

“The cut.” He gestured to the bleeding injury with a bandaged hand.

“...Oh.” Again, her gaze dropped. Her eyes began to mist again before she shut them. “..I-I.. I was.. um.. mugged on the way here… They stole my favorite purse…” Shame burned at her belly. She didn’t see any sign of judgement in McGucket’s reaction, though. He didn’t ask why she let that happen, or why she wasn’t responsible enough to bring someone with her. There was only concern for her.

“Oh.. ‘Ahm sorry that’a happened. Gravity Falls’s usually safe.. er- ah..” The old man scratched the back of his head. “‘least, it’s not the people ya gotta usually worry ‘bout.”

“Heh.. yeah..” Shrugging, the old man pulled out a full-blown first aid kid, temporarily baffling Pacifica for a moment. “Wai- were you just carrying that—?”

The question went without a response as McGucket went straight to disinfecting the cut. “‘Doesn’t look terri-bubly deep,” he piped. “Should’a stopped bleeding by now but we’ll patch it up ta’ keep it safe while it’s a-healin’.”

“Wait.. how do you know how to do this..?” Pacifica asked, furrowing her eyebrows a little. The old man gave her a cheery grin.

“Well, ‘gotta pick up somethin’ ‘bout it after livin’ in the dump buildin’ evil whatsits and thingamajigs outta rusty metal for a couple’a decades.”

..Oh. Well, that would make sense, she supposed.. Briefly, the question as to why he was being so nice to her after the way she and her family treated him crossed her mind. She wondered if that friend he mentioned had something to do with it… Suddenly she found herself wishing she’d paid closer attention to the details of the relationships between the other people involved in the zodiac. She guessed it could be that hotter Mr. Pines (or.. Dr. Pines?), she recalled seeing some kind of emotional exchange between him and McGucket during Weirdmaggedon.

Occupied with her thoughts, she hardly realized McGucket had completely finished with the bandage until he announced it.

“Done!” he cheered, stuffing the first aid kit back into the oblivion from which it came. Weird. More Gravity Falls weirdness. “...Thanks.”

“Anytime, sweetie. Y’always got’a listenin’ ear right here if ya’ need it.”

Pacifica gave him a small, grateful smile. The old man would never know what that meant to her.

“I.. I don’t know..” she sighed softly. “Today was just… awful… It’s the first birthday I’ll be spending alone, and I guess it’s… getting to me…”

“Yer birthday’s today?? Ah, Ah’m sorry, sugerbun,” McGucket spoke. “Awful break, goin’ through somethin’ like a’this on’a birthday mornin’. Say, ya always got a place right ‘ere if ya need. Plenty a’ empty bedrooms.”

Pacifica raised her head. “...R...Really..?”

McGucket beamed. “Why sure! Ya remind me a’ my lil’ Tator Tot, Ah’ miss ‘em somethin’ terrible. It gets a lil’ lonely in this ‘ere big ol’ mansion sometimes and ah wouldn’t mind a visit from some young folk from a’time ta’ time.”

She could… she could visit. Whenever she wanted? Her old home, without her parents around. McGucket was that okay with her? Even going so far as to compare her to (presumably) his own kid? That was… incredible. Before thinking it through, she threw her arms around the old man, chorusing her ‘thank you’s with a bubble of laughter. Though startled, Fiddleford slowly returned the hug with a warm smile.

He stank quite a bit. Pacifica recoiled a little at the realization of what she was doing. Ew. What would people think of her if they caught her doing something so unthinkable? Willingly embracing this stinky old man who…. gave incredible hugs.. Her concern suddenly dissolved. In its stead, a certain safety appeared, and she melted into it a little more. It was the same feeling she craved in her dreams. Dirt didn’t matter at all anymore. The feeling of a parental embrace shielding her from the unpleasantness of the world was all she could bring herself to care about at that moment. It felt so warm… Before she knew it, she was tearing up again.

“...Thank you, McGucket..”

“Heheh, anytime, sugarbun. Say, since it is yer birthday, whaddya say we hit th’ town an’ find somethin’ ta’ cheer ya up?”

Pacifica wiped her eyes with her palm. What an offer... To think a year ago she would never had even considered walking around with the old kook as a possible option, but.. She found herself looking forward to it. “I… I would love that.”

[Part 1 of ??? possibly 2??]

[onetuffbunny]

valentine's day is coming up the bend, here before you'll know it, and it's a bit of a weird one for me because here i sit all neglected and alone with nary a man to hit me up on certain mobile phone applications but you know what, i'm kind of fine with being single right now. there comes a time in every man's (and probably many other assorted genders but i can only speak for the one i identify with but like, i want to make it clear that my gender identity isn't Man, it's Man But In An Ironic Sort of Way) life where he has to dig deep into the recesses of his heart and really contemplate what he wants out of life, the universe, and everything, and that everything includes adventures of the romantical sense. maybe i need to reconsider my chronic need for validation from other people. maybe i need to really reexamine what i want out of my life and by extension, the people i allow into it. maybe more than anything else, i have shit taste in men and need to stop making googly eyes at every fella who looks at me for a half-second at the clubs, which i probably also should stop going to but i'm probably not going to do that because i am building my brand.

anyway, waaaaaaaaaaay more importantly than that, it's a weird as fuck one because i can no longer properly enjoy those big boxes of assorted chocolates they have at the grocery store because i love those. like, we are not talking about the good shit here, i am not talking about gourmet truffles important from france or whatever, i'm talking about those giant boxes the size of your head of generic milk chocolates that go on sale for about $5 the next day. love those. the shittier the better. also like those real shitty cordial cherries they keep in stock mostly for when you feel like you should give a present but you don't know the person that well so you just give them cordial cherries because idk it seems fancy or something but they're not actually fancy. they're garbage. i can eat those all day long.

except i can't taste so good anymore. so it's a bummer. because it's just not the same, man. it's not that i have a complete lack of my sense of taste but it's enough that i'm just like "well this is a mediocre culinary experience, almost makes me want to not eat solid food anymore." i think all in all, i adjusted to the blood diet pretty well once i figured that shit out, like it's pretty alright, blood tastes like tasty instead of what i thought it'd be like, but i still like eating ice cream and realistically speaking, you are not going to stop me from doing that, you're just not doing that, i don't care if this has like no nutritional value for me anymore, i want my fucking ice cream cone and i'm not going to let some guy named John take ice cream cones away from me, so if you're reading this John, text me back.

anyway, valentine's day is a good day for profits for me, so i'm going to be pretty busy regardless, but i'm a little bummed out about the chocolate situation. it's probably for the best though because too much sugar isn't good for your teeth. i am going to put up some decorations though, make it real festive, put up some hearts and streamers or something. i'm going to bust out the pink wig. i thought about putting some pink in my hair, bust out the koolaid like i'm 16 again, but then i remembered that my body is an illusion to make me more palatable in the eyes of others who get afeared of the likes of me ambling about in the middle of the night and i don't think my glamour works like that on account of it basically looking nothing like the flesh body housing my spirit. i tried snipping a bit at my flesh-body-mane to see if it'd make any difference in my illusion-body-hair but it didn't and then i didn't want to fuck around with it any further.

all in all, life could be better sure but it could be a hell of a lot worse. i had a few valentine's days where i couldn't even buy a chocolate assortment at all. sucks, man. it sucks most deeply. but hey, that's the way of it, you know, sometimes you have to not buy chocolate so you can buy other things, that's how it is and you have to take the chocolate days and the no-sugar days in stride. so that's it. being alone isn't a bad thing. i'll just drink some cocoa and watch some anime because i have superb fucking taste in fictional men.

[rodeoxqueen]

SMELLS LIKE QUARAN-NEROKIRI SPIRIT 

Nero/Kyrie

“In quarantine, Nero and Kyrie spend time together.” 

Rodeo’s Two Pieces: 

First time writing for Nero/Kyrie. Tread lightly with my take of their dynamic. 

(I)- Dalgona Coffee and Cookies. 

Despite how everything was shut down and the grocery was found vacant of basic necessities, Nero was grateful to at least be with someone he loved the most. 

“Look, we probably need some time off from kickin’ demon ass anyways,” Nico explained, smoking a cigarette during the video chat. 

“Yeah, not like demons care about being six feet away. People don’t even do that.” Nero looked at himself in the little square in the corner of his phone. Clad in a grey hoodie, he hadn’t even bothered putting on anything over his boxers. No one had come to visit since the mandate to stay inside, what was the point? 

Nico was in her garage again, from what he could see in the camera view. Cigarettes and old cups of coffee littered her desk, warbled country music playing off-view. 

“Who knows, maybe I’ll make something to fix that. I was thinking a mask-gun, rapid-fire reloading.” 

“Artisan of Arms, huh?” Nero laughed, getting up from his bed. 

“You fuckin’ bet. Now I gotta go. Got some things to weld.” 

“See ya, Nico. Stay safe, alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He gave a peace sign before pressing “end video call.” 

The video chat ended and Nero tucked his phone into his pocket. Even banter just wasn’t the same virtually. 

“Who was that? Nico?” Nero made it down the hallway to see Kyrie, bustling about getting things from the cupboards. 

“Yeah, still building stuff as usual.” 

Kyrie had been in their apartment’s kitchen, deciding to try her hand at some recipes she saw online. A bag of flour, too many bowls, and more chocolate than Nero remembered buying, all laid out on the table. 

Just when he wanted something to eat, he’d have to wait or his girlfriend would practically make enough to feed an army and be surprised when he didn’t want anymore. 

He opted for a cup of water instead. 

Nero admired her hair, how it looked when it wasn’t in a ponytail, how it sat perfectly on her shoulders. Seeing how she started to measure some ingredients, he took the hair tie on his wrist, careful fingers bringing it into a low ponytail. 

“Oh, thank you.” She commented, opening her booklet of recipes she had handwritten. Neat, slanted cursive in a smattering of blue, red, and black read out recipes for cookies, cakes, and bread. 

“You look busy, planning to make all of those?” Nero rested his chin on her shoulder, shrouding her with warmth. 

“Well, I don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck at home, might as well try some recipes out. Maybe we can deliver some to the orphanage.” 

“That is if I don’t eat all your prototypes first.” She laughed, birdsong to Nero’s ears. 

“As long as you help me I don’t mind if you do.” Kyrie handed him a measuring cup. Nero sighed, taking it. He always lost count of how many cups of flour he was supposed to put in the bowl. 

A jar of porous dough caught his eye as he sifted some baking soda in his white mixture. He took it from Kyrie’s side of the island. 

“Whoa, what is this? A science experiment?” Kyrie chuckled, watching Nero scrutinize the date on the white tape to the top of the mason jar. 

“No, it’s a sourdough starter! It’s basically wild yeast. We can make bread with it since people bought out all the dry yeast in the grocery store.” 

Nero shook it with curiosity and then opened the silver lid, making an “eh” face at the smell. 

“It’s yeast alright.” 

Kyrie continued whipping up the sugar and butter mixture, Nero helping himself to a handful of chocolate chips. 

“Have you talked to your uncle and father? They must be staying at the shop in Redgrave.” 

Nero shrugged. 

“Most likely, I haven’t talked to them yet. Dante probably didn’t pay the phone bill and Vergil doesn’t know how to use the phone anyways.” 

“Let’s just hope they’re getting along during this time.” 

Nero thought back to all the “family outings” he had since his uncle and father returned from hell, mostly just jobs becoming contests of strength that turned to friendly family fights. Endless banter and elbowing. 

Honestly, compared to that, standing next to his girlfriend while they shaped cookies for the oven was heaven. 

Once the chocolate chip cookie dough was done baking, Kyrie insisted they make some whipped coffee while they cooled.  

“I thought you didn’t like coffee, Kyrie.” She stooped down to find something in the lower cabinets. A robotic hand that was colored dark blue and black, his old Devil Bringer, appeared with a tiny whisk duct-taped to it. 

“Yeah, but that TikTok made it look so good.” Nero handed her the glass container of instant coffee. 

Turning on the Devil Bringer, the tiny whisk spun to life, rapidly mixing sugar, coffee, and water together. With her back turned, Nero popped a thing of cookie dough in his mouth. 

“Honestly, Nico should have patented these Devil Bringers, make a bunch of money, and maybe she’d stop trying to rip me off all those times.” 

“Support local businesses, Nero.” 

He looked over her shoulder, surprised at how an abysmal brown mixture had become fluffy and thrice its previous volume. 

Two cups of milk poured, the practically instantly whipped coffee laid on top like a decadent Mount Everest next to a still-warm plate of cookies. 

“Cheers!” Kyrie clinked glasses with him, stirring her mug vigorously with a spoon. He copied her, taking a sip of surprisingly light and sweet coffee. 

When he lowered his cup, Nero both revealed to the world a mustache of whipped coffee. 

Kyrie snorted into her cup, covering her mouth as she bit back a laugh. Embarrassed, Nero went to wipe it off when Kyrie pecked him on the lips. She drew back to reveal an imprint of the ‘stache on her own upper lip. 

“We match now.” Kyrie giggled, helping herself to another gooey cookie. 

Half a plate of cookies and two mugs properly drained of its contents, Kyrie and Nero loaded up the dishwasher to do the work. 

“This is coffee, why am I tired?” Kyrie yawned. 

The couch was this god-awful IKEA purchase that took hours for Nero to just figure out what the instructions meant. But right now, it perfectly supported both of them while they slept away their food coma. 

(II)- Curl Up And Dye. 

After the second time the mandate got lengthened, Nero could sense that Kyrie was starting to wane in her ever-positive attitude. The news had nothing good to say, and the number of shows they had binged left them indifferent to watching anything more. 

They did a lot of singing during quarantine, Kyrie always being the musical one. Evanescence was one of their favorites to sing together, Nero’s guitar skills and Kyrie’s ability to hit those high notes left many memorable nights of laughter. 

After a while, Kyrie began to just sit on the couch a lot and have Nero pay her company. 

“What’s wrong?” Kyrie sighed heavily, curling into Nero’s hoodie as he opted to stay shirtless. 

“I don’t know Nero, it just feels like everything is the same. We go through the same things every day and I just feel...trapped.” 

Nero kissed the nape of her neck, humming in agreement. 

“Look, I’m usually the one going to you for stuff like this but...it will get better. It’s been a really hard time for all of us, and we’re just watching everything go downhill. It’s not a good situation but, you got me. Always. And there’s still a lot of things we can change up if that helps.” He stroked her hair and rubbed her back, feeling her take a deep breath. 

“You’re right Nero. That really did help. Thank you for listening.” 

“Of course.” 

While he scrolled on his own phone, he didn’t heed all the things Kyrie was watching. She touched her own long hair, seeing the way other people recorded their own home-salon trims. 

“Things to change, huh?” She mumbled. 

So here they were now. 

“It looks so bad!” Kyrie exclaimed, her face in her hands, hair on the bathroom sink. Nero shook his head. 

“No it’s not, Kyrie! You look fine, just let me fix it!” In the mirror, Nero cringed at the way her hair was ridiculously over-layered. 

“Um, what did you try to do-” 

“Curtain bangs! Oh Nero, I shouldn’t have tried to change up my hair!” Kyrie was thoroughly upset, seeing how her bout of bravery lead to her bangs being mauled by her own hands. 

Nero hugged her, noting that she had been wearing his shirt while she trimmed her hair. 

Okay that shirt’s gonna itch for a while until all the hair comes out. 

“It’s okay, let me see if I can fix it.” Kyrie blushed in the mirror, groaning at how bad her hair was cut. 

“There’s no way you could make it worse than what I did.” 

Nero gingerly took the scissors Kyrie put in the sink, a little bit too small for his hands but good enough. Although he was no stylist, he could tell where Kyrie had either cut too much off or unevenly. 

Eventually, they did manage to cut it in a way that hid the previous mistakes. Kyrie took another deep breath. 

“I shouldn’t have been so impulsive.” She murmured, arms crossed. 

Nero chuckled at her rare emotional outburst. He was glad to have been able to be there for her. She always hid how she felt, helping others her way of expressing herself. Now with no one around but him, he totally understood that she felt helpless. 

No one liked being helpless. 

He kissed her cheek and a lightbulb went off in his head. 

“You wanna dye my hair?” Kyrie turned around in surprise. 

“What?” 

“I mean, who knows how long this shutdown is gonna be, it’ll be fun,” Kyrie noted how Nero had forgone shaving, his peach fuzz becoming something more. 

Honest blue eyes peered at her, wondering what she would think. Her surprise softened to a sort of relief in their solidarity. 

“What color, Nero?” 

“Neon green-” 

“Nico’s going to make fun of you.” Kyrie giggled. Nero shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I don’t mind it.” 

(III)- Can’t Get Out Of It, Get Into It. 

“Nero, you look so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Shut up, Dante.” 

His uncle finally managed to figure out how to work the virtual chat on his fossil of a computer, and Nero was already prepared to end the call. 

His father sat slightly off-camera, not in the mood to entertain Dante’s antics to ridicule his son. Although, he did look oddly radioactive with his washed-out green hair and strong quarter-past five o’clock shadow.  

“Quarantine did not do you a favor, good lord,” Dante commented, kicking his feet up on his desk. Nero flipped him off. 

“Good to know you’re still living in shambles, not surprised neither of you cleaned up after yourselves.” The number of bottles on the floor was a travesty and the couch littered with poetry books Vergil had slowly begun to hoard. 

Nico entered the zoom call, smoking another cigarette Nero was lucky to not have to smell. 

“Nice broccoli head.” 

Nero flipped her off as well. Kyrie came into view, smiling at her boyfriend’s family and their shared friends. Nero decided to get a drink, clicking a few buttons before letting Kyrie have the seat. 

As they discussed how the business would continue with Devil May Cry, Kyrie sat next to Nero. 

It was mainly business, until it got to a certain line that Dante said. 

“I don’t know, it just feels like things are just going to keep staying like this. Hate to break it to you Nero, but it’s going to be tough for a while.” 

Kyrie finally heard enough, scooching Nero aside so she could talk. 

“Kyrie, wait-” 

“We’re going to get past this. As long as humanity still keeps coming together for the sake of benefiting each other, and we keep working to make sure to keep safe, we will get past this. We just have to keep hoping, and sure, hoping isn’t always going to make you feel better. I would know. But in a time where we do feel helpless, we should connect with other people in a different way. That’s why we succeed, we keep moving, we keep adapting! And hope, hope keeps that going.” 

Kyrie took a long breath. Looking at the dumbfounded group, she waited for a response. 

“Um, Kyrie. You were muted.” Nero finally said. Kyrie realized her blunder and how Nero’s hand was attempting to unmute them. 

“Oh.” Kyrie flushed, looking embarrassed. 

“I have no idea what you just said, but that’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry, that was so awkward.” 

“Don’t worry yourself, Kyrie. I bet it was real sweet whatever you had to say,” Nico assured. 

The zoom call was full of laughter since, a business call turned to a time to discuss how each person was doing. 

Dante and Vergil had spent days and nights sparring, Vergil learning more about humanity from Dante, and “making their own pizzas.” 

Nico had continued welding and making weapons for her own curiosity rather than based off of commission-based instructions. The van finally had the vinyl player fixed and she apparently gave herself a stick-and-poke. 

“So what did you two love birds do?” Nico asked, lighting another cancer stick. 

Nero and Kyrie looked at each other, smiling at their shared memories of this strange period in human history. 

“Where do we even start?”  Kyrie said, thinking of all the days and nights that seemed to breeze by and also slowly progress. 

Nero ruffled his longer messy green hair, Kyrie tucking her curtain bangs behind her ear. As they were two peas in the pod, Nero had decided to get another set of gray sweats for Kyrie, matching finally. 

Kyrie bit into a cookie, offering Nero some. 

“Smells like quarantine spirit, huh?” Dante finger-gunned.

Nero chuckled. 

“Hell yeah.” 

[teaboot]

Hey I just wanted to ask you something I don't know if its personal so maybe I'll start with me, my psychiatrist told me that I have asperger's syndrome and like my mom keeps asking me like what does that means because I think she sees people with autism as stupid and I'm at the top of my class so she feels like it's a mistake, I personally go mute for months sometimes except for like oral tests, and idk I forget about having a body and so I hit onto walls when I'm focused on something but *

"...*is not so exaggerated like I'm pretty functional I just forget that there are walls and doors and that I can't just transport me to the other room or so,I mean I feel like I'm just trying to find what my "weird or autistic" traits are to justify the diagnosis,I didn't asked my psychiatrist to elaborate on that and so I was wondering, what would you say that your autistic traits are?Also just in case,I know that autistic people can be hella smart and I think that you are really wise I admire you"

Thank you so much, that's very sweet of you to say!

Honestly, I'm sort of in a similar situation- My parents' reaction was to say, "you're too smart to be autistic" or, "Everyone of ~your intelligence~ is a little weird in the head, anyways", and then. Expect me to live up to all the positive stereotypes without ever getting bogged down by the negative realities?

This might not be very helpful at all of me to say, but as an adult who grew up in a rather unpleasant environment, there really isn't much help for a number of things except getting old and independant enough to move out, and then just accepting that their perception of reality isn't open to negotiation. You can try debating it, or meeting them on common ground with scientific basis, but in my case....

....well. There's just some things I now know not to talk about at family gatherings.

I'm sorry, I know that's probably not very helpful or heartening to hear. 

As for my personal grab bag of symptoms? I tend to hyperfocus on personal projects. When I'm really invested in an art piece, I often forget to eat or sleep or drink, and the only way I've learned to snap out of that is that if my hands are shaking or I'm falling over a lot, I probably need to eat something and lay down for a while, because otherwise- and yeah, not the healthiest motivator- otherwise I might start fucking up my hard work.

I also get overwhelmed by overlapping noises- if two people are talking at once, even if one is on a radio or TV show, I can't hear either of them and it stresses the shit out of me. White noise, like in malls or assemblies, also tends to burn my energy pretty fast.

Things like leaf blowers, people whistling indoors, and emergency sirens are physically painful. Repetitive noises like a bouncing rubber ball, sniffling, dogs licking things, and low-frequency vibrations from massage chairs, earthquakes, distant bass music, and some fluorescent lighting systems are impossible to ignore, which ranges from irritating to distressing, depending on my headspace du jour.

I hate bland food with a passion. It tends to make me nauseaus. I like lots of spice, lots of sugar, lots of sour and hot and acidic. I love strong flavours, and if I'm cooking for friends and family I often have to remind myself to tone down the seasonings for them.

Some textures make me genuinely ill, too- most types of meat, fat, and other animal bits result in.... Bad times for all. Polyester towels suck ass. Microfiber cloth. Thick cotton knit material. Any fabric covering my forearms. Thin, elastic denim. Vinyl. Polar fleece.

On the flip side, I looooove woven cotton blankets. Cotton sheets, cotton bedding- cold, heavy duvets are good, too. Acrylic, so long as it doesn't get damp. I have.... Perhaps a little bit of a problem here, as I do... Maybe, possibly, get a little impulsive with buying rugs, throws, and blankets when I come across one that feels right.

All my cups and bowls are handmade out of clay. I'm OK with smooth ceramics, but stoneware feels happy in my hands. I think of it as a treat, like packing a bit of chocolate with my lunch, or eating a whole bag of popcorn by myself. Again, I.... May go a little overboard when I come across A nice-feeling piece of dishware.

Basically, from what I understand, a lot of folks on the spectrum are under and over stimulated by various sensory inputs.

Me, I gravitate towards taste, inertia, tactile sensation, temperature, and dark lighting, while I find myself avoiding, limiting, or minimizing sound, light, color, oral texture, and smell.

As for more stereotyped behaviors, I find organizing things such as legal documents, filing cabinets, paint swatches, hardware, coins, stones, or colors to be very soothing and almost meditative. I go through special interests fairly often, and have been 'into' things like animals, insects, natural history, and art since before I could walk. I can't explain why they're such alluring subjects, they just make me happy.

I didn't realize until recently that I do stim, as well- I rock, sway, growl, swish water around, hang upside-down, rotate my thumbs, rub fabric, twirl coins, and flex my hands. I also (rarely) seem compelled to jump up and down in circles very fast when I'm particularly excited, or flap my arms against my sides like a penguin.

When I'm overstimulated, I go.... I'm not sure if you could call it 'nonverbal'. I get the feeling I COULD speak, it's just.... Overwhelmingly difficult. Usually I find a dark space or a corner away from people, put a coat or something over my head, cover my ears, close my eyes... Sometimes deliberate eye contact is hard, or I can't say more than one or two words at a time, or I find myself relying more on a hum or a grunt to communicate that I'm listening.

It... Probably all sounds weird to a neurotypical who may be reading, but I'm perfectly happy with myself as I am. I wouldn't change it if I could, except perhaps to minimize some of the more irritating things.

Mostly, my biggest peeve is being treated like a cool new pet or accessory. "Oh, this is my person with Autism- they're great at cleaning, you should get one!"- yeah, that can fuck right off. I'm right here, I can hear you, I'm a person. A little respect goes a long way.

But, whoops, here I've gone on a ramble- you want the best advice I have, though? Become comfortable with the person you are. Accept and seek out what things bring you happiness. Don't get hung up on the negatives. Love your experience, if you can, and don't worry about validating anything- you are who you are, and the words we use to explain ourselves fall so, so short when faced with the complexity of our individual existence.

The way I see it, the day before your diagnosis is the same as today, you just have one more tool to understand yourself with. The decision of how and if you choose to explain this to those around you is entirely yours to decide! 

I know this kind of went off the rail of your question. My answers are a little limited. I hope I could help anyways! Good luck!!

[where-is-my-beheading-ceremony]

I'm too inactive in the nexo knights Fandom. But don't have the willpower to draw anything so I'll just start posting Jestro headcannons!

Starting off strong with angst and trauma 😀

-Jestro has faced malnourishment for how hard it was to find quality food when he was out on the streets

-You cannot look at him and say this boy doesn't have an inch of magic in him. I feel like he's got so much untapped potential, but his magic has a destructive nature, that's why he can't simply do spells that require much control. Summoning monsters without any practice or possession? Yeah he's great at it. Mayhaps necromancy is the answer to him, who knows.

- speaking of necromancy, with what story I have for him, he's always seen people that aren't even there. To others, whenever Jestro addresses emotionless people staring at him from a distance, they think he's just got a wild imagination. The aura of those people that only he can see however is in no way welcoming so he never dared to approach them. He learned to ignore it when he grew, but lol turns out he just sees spirits that still haven't moved on

-the most luscious hair. He's got absolutely beautiful locks. If he took care of them that is. I imagine his hair being black, lightly curly and long, but the knots.... Better to just cut them out than try to brush them at this point. He never put much care into it-

-Rumors have it, he's just a hyena in a trench coat since his laugh is both human and oddly not enough human at times. Mmm freaky laughs

-Another personal hc, yes...he i s that pale though I enjoy the body paint idea too. I have decided that because I gave his father (some tired necromancer) terribly pale skin. And that's just one of the traits that don't make him fully human

-Lance once tried to help him have a little makeover and spent half an hour trying to wipe Jestro's face before Jestro caught on and had to inform him that his pale skin wasn't face paint

-lack of absolutely anything a growing child should have also added to the pale skin thing.

-the older he grows, the more prominent his odd features became (longer ears, palers skin, sharper eyes, lightly more animalistic teeth)

-speaking of which, Monstrox' possession also left some permanent features for him (mostly scars like ones from lightning, eyes that seem to have a certain glow in the dark, some marks that can remind birth marks)

-absolute sweet tooth, Axl had to put him on a healthier diet and thanks to his good cooking, Jestro actually eats whatever Axl makes him

-whenever someone he's with is feeling down. Jestro makes them hot chocolate and sits with them, letting them vent out since he phases out half way through so they don't have to worry about Jestro accidentally spilling something or thinking about them differently. He does at times take mental notes of specific things

-He much more blabbers about others via writing than speaking

-Jestro and Aaron were known as the prank mazterz though Jestro was the one to get in trouble more than Aaron. Luckily Aaron would never leave them hanging. They're also the short duo, but Jestro ever so slightly outgrew Aaron

-Jestro and Clay have a special book in Merlok's library which is labeled as "Jestro's and Clay's heroic adventures" where they as kids would write out the adventures they had together and also stick some type of memento to the pages, if they're too thick for the page, they have an empty box like section to the book to add them.

-it's full of drawings and doodles

-after the first attack in the library, Clay took the book under his care in fear of losing it

-speaking of Clay. After season 2, he would get very anxious if Jestro went off without anyone knowing, but it passed. After season 4, whenever he or people he knows don't know Jestro's whereabouts or he doesn't come back for a bit, he gets bad anxiety, but doesn't usually go off to look for him in fear of invading too much personal space. He does message Jestro pretty often though to see how they're doing and offers them rides

-Jestro and Clay have a shared happy space which is a flower hill

-Jestro is worryingly good at puppy dog eyes and changing other people's decisions when he wants to. Usually uses it against Clay since it's the easiest with them. Though not to worry, he does it for good things, like convincing Clay to take a day off. The other knights sometimes ask Jestro to do it so they could relax a bit too

-He and Lance occasionally have make over nights, usually when the two have a hard time resting or just have had a bad day. It's relaxing.

-Macy is the closest thing to a sister he has since he's been around her often as a royal Jester

-Jestro has got some bad insomnia and sometimes nightmares so the knights catch him at 5 am drinking black coffee with a sickening amount of sugar since that's the only way he can handle it.

-Since Clay has a hard time sleeping too, the two spend a lot of time together at nights. Usually just Jestro keeping Clay company while they do some chores or train

-Even if it seems like Jestro has a bond with every knight, things were often times very tense between him and them. They're close, but still weary

-speaking of relationships being rocky, the most noticeable change of relationship was between Jestro and Clay after season 4. These two barely spoke or could hold conversations. Their friendship had grown apart and the guilt Jestro felt for turning Clay into a stone monster was painfully strong. Same goes with Clay and when he genuinely tried to k*ll Jestro that one time in season 4.

-Jestro's memory of the things that happened during his second possession is quite poor since he was struck in the head a few times and that majorly affected things. It's also one of the reasons he was a bit weary of the knights since he couldn't remember which one was almost responsible for his end, just knew it was one of them.

-He occasionally twitches from the electrical charge his body still partially posseses. Not a lot though since he got rid of most of the charge when he tried to escape the kingdom once

If you want more, I definitely have plenty Jestro hcs so be sure to comment that!!!

[innermort]

*** disclaimer: this is a very long diary type of entry that is probably quite boring for everyone else and may be ignored. it's merely a very lenghty epiphany I just had about my life and myself and I had to type it out for me, to lock in the thoughts, if you will. it was pretty therapeutic tho. 🙃 ***

10/Sept/2021

I just had the realization that I'm in the process of redefining every aspect of my self and my life.

I quit smoking cigarettes from one day to another exactly 2 months ago tomorrow and went from a heavy to a casual party smoker.

I rarely ever smoke weed anymore (plus when I did since quitting tabacco, I rolled with herbs) and now made the conscious decision to take another long break, so it doesn't interfere with my weight loss again. I get the worst munchies and have no self control when I'm stoned. I'm talking "5000+ cals in one sitting" type of binges. I'm not tolerating this kind of self sabotage anymore.

I re-discovered edblr. Yes. I know. Not the healthiest habit to get back into but it's the only thing that has actually helped me gain the motivation and willpower to put a stop to my raging sugar addiction and instead, an actual effort into losing weight again. Besides, I'm doing it in a much more careful and "responsible" way now (high restricting, taking supplements, no strict/exact calorie limit, very light to no exercise (okay, to be fair the reason for that is mainly my injured knee but still), letting myself eat/drink more than planned if I feel my body needs it). And let's not forget that I've literally been binging every day for the past 2 or 3 months. My diet nearly exclusively consisted of chocolate, pastries and pizza. Literally. I've gained 10 kgs (22lbs) during that time. That lifestyle was just as unhealthy, if not unhealthier.

I finally got to hang up and use my calender. Due to my ADHD (self diagnosed for now), I'm very forgetful and unorganized - at least in my private life. That's why I made the decision to get a big calender which I can use as a semi To Do/Buy list and appointment/meeting/bill reminder. Since I'm glueing a sticker to each day I got through without binging, I'm looking at it pretty much every day anyways. Plus, it's a motivater to not binge (reward that inner child)! Overall, it's helping me become more organized and put together which are two areas I've been lacking in in the past years. So far, I've been mostly using my phone notes but I usually write something down and immediately forget about it if it's not a grocery list or a To Do list I'm actively working through on that same day.

I have my first appointment at a psych ward since I was a teen. It's just a phone call and first get to know conversation but it's better than nothing and more than overdue. I'm finally taking the first steps towards getting diagnosed and being eligible for therapy. I'm sick of feeling like a victim of my own brain, I just want to be better. I deserve to be better.

I'm hungry for knowledge again. I deleted Tiktok from my phone because of how big of a distraction it was and because I realized that even though I'm being bombarded with new information everyday, I'm not learning anything. Our brains can't even comprehend the amount of information given in that short time span. Nothing sticks. Sure, you find out about some pretty cool stuff on TT depending on what kinda fyp you have but for me personally, it was just hours and hours of mindless scrolling in the end. It's crazy how addictive it is, too. Even despite the fact that I was already at a point where it didn't even give me that quick dopamine quick anymore. It felt boring and repetitive and I was merely doing it out of habit.

So, I got rid off the app. I started watching documentaries again. Mostly about gut health and mental illnesses like ADHD, Autism, BPD, Narcissm etc. Like TED talks or interviews/discussions by and with professionals/experts/diagnosed people. I'm back to not just craving but actually consuming something with substance, something that gives me more knowledge and insight on a topic. Something I actually want to know more about.

I realized and accepted that even though I am a creative mind, a fully creative job might just not be for me. I'm learning that maybe I'm the type of person who does something entirely different in their free time than what they do at work. And that that's very much okay. I noticed that at my job (this was the case for every job I ever had), my mind seems to work differently. When people expect me to do something, I have the needed pressure and motivation to get it done. I could also observe in myself that at work, I enjoy organizing/sorting stuff, I'm a fast and independent learner while I'm also excellent at training new employees, I'm much more detail oriented than in my private life - overall, it came to my attention that I might not actually be the ever chaotic forgetful mess who can't form a logic thought - or I can at least recognize that this is merely a part of me and not what defines and limits me as a person. I realized I actually like straightforward work, I like working alone and I like working precisely. When I was younger I would have never used any of these traits to describe my dream career. I would gag at the idea of working an office job and now I feel like this would actually suit me very well. Especially the working alone part would mean feeling less drained at the end of a work day and still having the energy to hang out with people I actually want to see. This is an extremely valuable lesson about myself that I finally seem to have learned.

After this big sub- and now concious evaluation about myself I'm also finally taking actual steps towards a possible career. I bought a course and worked through the first 2 lectures today, taking notes and writing everything down neatly for 3 - 3 1/2 hours (in total with breaks in between). I even got a notebook specifically for this new life project. I'm excited to learn. I feel scared, too. This is something I've never done before but I'm telling myself that trying won't hurt. I have my main job as a safety net, financially nothing can happen to me. I can only learn, even if I fail. And time will pass anyways, whether I get my ass up and put in the work or continue to be unhappy with what I'm doing without trying to change anything.

Speaking of finances, I also started taking those more seriously now. I stopped using my credit card (I was in negative numbers constantly, big numbers like -300 to -800€ due to constant overspending). I set up standing orders for my monthly fixed costs to make sure bills are always paid on time. Due to my forgetfulness and ADHD freeze I would often forget to pay or postpone paying bills until the reminder came in the mail and led to me having to pay on top or generating debt. I still have a little bit of debt to pay off but it's thankfully not a dramatic amount. I also have a second bank account for savings now where I transfer 200€ to every month. Even the simple act of calculating my fixed costs to see how much I can use for what was something that was desperately overdue. What I still have to do is sort out my receipts and write everything down in a housekeeping/budget book. And my first ever tax return. I am very much dreading both of these. 😃

Anyways. Wow. I really needed to type this out. I have the very harmful tendency to look at all the negative stuff and only focus on what I don't have and don't do. I really needed to take a long, deep look at all the things I've been changing around in the past couple months. A lot of it really passed me by until now. It's crazy but I really feel like a complete failure when my body isn't looking its best and it makes me blind for everything else. So, thank you to myself for reminding me that I am actually making a lot of progress, even if it has been in areas other than my fitness and looks. They're just as important (from a healthy brains point significantly more important, obviously) and deserve to be noticed and celebrated.

Conclusion: ❤️✨YAY, ME✨❤️

[roguish-gallery]

Can you do a headcannon for the rouges on halloween?

Saved this one for the right time! Also!!! TW for some NS/FW mentions!

Rogues + Halloween HCs!!

Bane:

He might hop around from party to party, just for kicks! He doesn’t stick around any of them for too long, though.

You know those unsourced facebook articles that your aunt and your mom share each year about the guy who apparently lives in every neighborhood in the country who sticks razor blades into the chocolate bars he hands out to kids? That’s Bane, but he doesn’t even give out any candy. Just knives. He tells every child that knocks on his door how they can properly defend themselves should they ever get imprisoned for crimes they didn’t commit, or how to properly gut that one bitch who keeps hogging the good kickball at recess.

He dresses up like a Roman gladiator! It’s cool and gritty, and he doesn’t have to worry about finding a shirt that fits his body. Plus, he looks really good in gladiator sandals.

Catwoman:

She’s either attending some boring Halloween party with socialites she’s planning to rob, or watching some shitty scary movie with the rest of the sirens.

That being said, she makes sure that every child that knocks on her door gets the full-sized candy bars. 

She dresses up like a witch! Classy and simple, but lots of opportunities to add her own creative touches!

Harley Quinn:

She’s out there living her best life, being a grown-ass woman... and still trying to Trick-or-Treat. Anyone who gives her a toothbrush or a bag of pretzels is gonna get a brick thrown through their windows later that night.

She managed to convince Basil to lend her some of the horror films in his collection, and despite the fact that none of this shit is scary, she loses her goddamn mind during every mildly frightening scene.

She’s wearing one of that inflatable T-Rex costumes!!! Mostly because they’re really funny and because she KNOWS that people are expecting her to dress up as something “sexy” and this is her way of giving them a middle finger. (also if she’s in a big t-rex costume then it’s harder for the people handing out candy to realize that she’s a grown-ass woman).

Joker:

He’s the annoying bitch in the morph suit that shows up to every party. He thinks that people won’t be able to recognize him but. Everyone knows it’s him.

Killer Croc:

He has a genuine love for Halloween because it’s one of the few times of the year where he can walk around in public without anyone freaking out.

Fdskjfhskdj he shows up to costume contests and tells judges that he’s “Godzilla” and he leaves with some cool ribbons and a nice chunk of prize money for his “life-like costume”

Like I said, he’s either Godzilla or Kaiman from Dorohedoro. Whatever sounds more fun at the time!

Mad Hatter:

The only person here who made their costume entirely from scratch. It will be a cold day in hell when he gives a cent of his hard-earned money to a Spirit Halloween.

Surprisingly enough, he does not dress as an Alice character (he already does that every other day, and it wouldn’t be fun to do it for Halloween too). Now he’s dressed like a Victorian-style ghost!!

“Boo!! Give me your candy, and complement how dashing, smart, and spooky I am, or I’ll... uh- I’ll haunt you!! Boo!!!”

Penguin:

Surprising no one, he throws an excellent Halloween party at the Iceberg Lounge and he somehow prevents any of the other Rogues from setting any fires. A successful night!

He’s honestly not super festive when it comes to Halloween? At least in comparison to the other Rogues. He decorates the Iceberg accordingly for the party, but it’s more for the sake of entertaining his guests.

Tbh, he’ll just wear one of his regular suits, apply extra eyeliner, and slap on some fangs and tell everyone he’s a vampire. He’s glad that he finally has an excuse to wear one of his capes in public. Might fuck around and go as the Phatom of the Opera or some shit.

Poison Ivy:

Spends the entire month fuckin around with the pumpkins, as one with plant powers is ought to do. If the pumpkin you’re trying to carve into a jack o’ lantern suddenly grows arms and stabs you back with your knife, Pamela probably had something to do with it.

Harley ate all of the candy she bought a week ago, and she forgot to grab more so Pam awkwardly hands out leftover food from her fridge to any trick-or-treaters who come over. Pam hopes that the toddler in the Paw Patrol costume enjoys the hummus he got because Pam was really looking forward to eating it.

She dresses as Demeter! I love Pammy so much and I’m sorry to say this but she is 100% the type of person who gets huffy whenever people (or children) don’t immediately recognize who she’s dressed as.

Riddler:

Jon rents all of the Exorcist films and bets Eddie 100 dollars that he wouldn’t be able to watch through the entire series. Ed promptly accepts that bet… and quits 30 minutes into the first movie.

… He’s dresses as Captain Kirk for Halloween. Ed is a shameless Trekkie and I will die on this hill.

He individually texts every Rogue and officer of the GCPD this exact copypasta, and then he… turns his phone off for the rest of the week and refuses to respond to any calls :) or death threats :) or warrants for his arrest :)

Scarecrow:

Ahhhh…. Do you hear that? The shrieks of terror?  That crisp autumn air? Those Pillsbury sugar cookies with the pumpkins on them? Yes, Jonathan Crane is in his natural element.

Sdasdfsdfkj He sneaks into the local haunted house and corn maze attractions so he can upstage the actual scare actors.

He just wears his scarecrow outfit; if it’s not broken, don’t fix it. (that, and Jervis made him swear to not buy a cheap costume at Spirit Halloween.)

Two-Face:

He’s just chillin!! Having a fun spooky time!! He can buy apple cider back at the store again, and life is good!

Harv will make trick-or-treaters flip a coin, and based on what it lands on they either get a full chocolate bar, or a box of raisins and a toothbrush.

He’s dressed up like a biker! Leather jacket, cool shades, and tight jeans- he and Bruce used to dress up like bikers for past Halloweens!