#I thank thee for showing me da way

[kausijuoppo]

No jank in this house

Comic update and democracy

I just finished the first update of my longer comic project 'Your Son Has Never Felt More Alive'.

Regarding the comic, I'm debating between drawing more of the whole project first and then releasing updates bi-weekly, or releasing the first update right away and releasing a new update whenever it's done. The pros and cons would basically be:

1. Get a steady update schedule, but everything is delayed by a few months (prolly all the way to december)

2. The comic releases now but the schedule is janky, sometimes less and sometimes more than 2 weeks in between the updates

So my indecisive ass thought, hey, how about we shift the responsibility on other people and let democracy do it's thing?

And so!

[potassium-pilot]

FFXIVWrite 2023, Prompt 15: Portentous

Beloved daughter...

...long have I awaited thee...

...thou shalt end suffering...

...and shine light on all the land...

...go forth and seek...

...seek...

.

.

.

.

Such was what Dia dreamed that night in her room in the cottage, where Hector and Oliver slept soundly just across the way.

Not that she remembered it when she woke up.

Later that day, her fathers were off collecting samples while she took a trip to Buscarron's Druthers. As she grew older, the concern of whether or not she was left alone and able to explore diminished, especially as she quickly took to the DuPointe method of arithmamncy. All that needed work at this point was her combat skills. In the meantime, she waited at the bar table.

"All right, get yer grub!" Buscarron said upon delivery of a stew.

"Finally! Thank you!" Dia smiled at her beef stew before digging in.

"Ye know, yer father seems to like nitpicking me cookin'. What's stoppin' ye?"

"I like your food. I'm not sure what Oliver's on about. Even if I didn't, it's either I eat here or eat alone in the cottage."

Buscarron sighed. "When the hells are ye gettin' outta there?"

"When I know I've mastered Oliver's magic."

"Ye've got a great handle on it already, Dia. Just use it in combat more."

"That easy, huh?" she asked sarcastically.

"I can help ye if ye want. It's been a while since I've picked up me lance, but I can keep ye alive."

"Hm...well--", she considered before she was interrupted.

A loud cracking noise boomed across the land. "Did you...hear that, Buscarron?"

"Aye, I did. What was that all about?"

The two of them went outside. The skies were cloudy and red with the glow of the lesser moon Dalamud. It seemed to have come even closer to Eorzea, and gods above was it massive. If the two of them weren't mistaken, it seemed to be falling apart.

As the debris sailed along the heavens, it seemed to take on forms close to meteors. Dia watched these meteors, these falling stars of sorts with intrigue. She should have been scared, and she knew that it should have frightened her, but she felt nothing of the sort.

What she felt was closer to...melancholy.

"Dia?!"

She snapped out of her trance and looked back to Buscarron.

"We needa get ye somewhere safe!"

Dia shook her head and backed away. "No...no, I need to find my fathers. We need to get out of the forest together!" She turned and made a full sprint in the opposite direction of the Druthers.

"Dia!"

She ignored his calls and kept running. Even as she was panting for breath, she called out, "Oliver?!"

They couldn't have gone far. They told me they would be in the South Shroud today.

"Da!"

As she called that, she heard another rumble. At first, she thought it was just another piece of Dalamud breaking off, but a look to her right showed something completely different. A mudslide was rushing towards her, rocks and boulders and whole trees falling towards her. She screamed loudly and picked up the pace.

Dia managed to dodge a boulder that fell behind her, ran right when she noticed the shadow of a tree falling ahead of her, then stopped just in time for an even larger boulder than the last to drop in front of her. The mudslide's debris seemed endless. When she looked behind her, she could barely recognize her surroundings anymore. Much the same when she looked back ahead.

Markings she once knew as a way to help guide her about the forest were gone, probably destroyed by the landslides. All she knew now was that she was lost. She didn't know how to get back home.

Dia approached a clearing where she was on the last solid piece of ground left for her to catch her breath. "Where are you?!" she cried out. When she looked up to the skies, the meteors only grew more numerous. As she caught her breath, she gazed to the destruction up above, and without her even thinking about it, she returned to her trance.

Melancholy without reason.

Love without lovers.

Fear without cause.

Anger without passion.

Emotion without ownership.

These were not her emotions. They belonged to someone else, but weighed on her soul like her own. Whose were they? Who did they belong to?

Why do I feel this way?

One emotion she could finally own: that of a deep yearning. She longed for something that she knew not what.

That's when it hit her.

Dia fell to her knees, clutching her heads, groaning in pain.

"Hear..."

"What? Who said that?"

"...feel..."

The pain intensified. She couldn't speak.

"...think..."

There was a connection, but she had no idea what she connected to. All she knew was that she was being pulled away. When she looked to her left, she gasped.

Another mudslide was careening to her at breakneck speeds. She tried to move, but failed as nothing budged.

"Help..."

Just as a tree was to barrel into her, blackness overtook her and she knew no more.

When she awoke, she found herself in an inky blackness, dotted by stars. This was all she could see at first as she floated in this nothingness.

"Beloved daughter..."

Dia looked to her left and right.

"Where am I? Is this...death?"

"Nay, my warrior."

"Warrior?"

"Thou yet live."

Dia couldn't see who spoke to her, despite her attempts to look around.

"Know me now as Hydaelyn, my child. Thou shalt walk a lonely path, but know that thou are not alone. Ever shall I walk with thee, so long as thou continuest to seek."

"What am I seeking?"

"Only you can answer this, my warrior. Follow thy heart and bolster thy courage, for the road ahead is long."

"Will you help me?"

"I shall aid thee as best I can, my daughter. Now, awaken to a realm reborn!"

.

.

.

.

.

She woke with a start, finding herself in a crater. Trees, boulders, dead wildlife, water, all of these things surrounded her.

"The mudslide...", Dia whispered. "Hydaelyn! She...she saved me." Dia stood up, but she didn't feel the same. There was something almost...heavier. She didn't understand it, but there it was. All she knew was that this crater was deep. There was absolutely no reason for the instinct to climb out of the crater to hit her- she was never a climber. Yet there she went running for the edge and climbing as though there wasn't a problem in the world.

She grabbed onto rocks and branches that jutted out and climbed. About halfway up, there was a branch that she almost grabbed, but an instinct hit her, and suddenly, she could see the branch being pulled out, leading to her fall back into the crater and a very painful injury, with an intense clarity. As though she lived it.

She decided against that branch, instead using a rock above her, which seemed to be fine. Eventually, the crater was scaled and she reached the top, bringing herself to her feet.

As she looked around the forest, she asked herself as she gawked dumbfoundedly, "Where am I?"

The land of the Black Shroud changed so immensely, that she had no idea where she was.

She didn't even have a chance to gather her bearings before a vision overtook her.

She found them.

Hector and Oliver.

They too faced a mudslide.

She knew exactly where they were.

And that all that remained to give her any hint of their location was a stiff hand that extended from the dirt.

She still went to them. She still called out for them. She still held onto hope of some sort. That she was wrong. That this did not come to pass.

And if she was right?

Who else loved them enough to give them a funeral?

[lawandordersource]

Just jumpin' in on the Mike Cutter Appreciation here. When it was announced that Fred Thompson was leaving, they were going to make Jack DA, thus reducing his screen time a bit, I was skeptical as all hell about Linus Roache and the new character, where the name hadn't even been announced yet (and nothing against Linus then either, I enjoyed his portrayal of Bobby Kennedy in the TV movie RFK).

After the season 18 premiere, I basically went, "Huh, they might've done the impossible and found a worthy successor to Jack."

And it was done so well. His early relationship with Connie was also great since she had apprenticed (basically) under Jack and clearly respected him that she also seemed rather skeptical of Mike early on. The vibe was, "Okay hotshot, let's see how good you really are."

And it was just great seeing the combative & father/son at times relationship Jack and Mike had. You recently posted those gifs from "Take Out" and I still chuckle at Jack telling Mike, "I don't know how to break this to you, Mike, but yours is not the only case on my plate."

And his ask got so long, sorry about that, but yeah. Mike Cutter was great and I still hold out hope that he's somewhere in the DA's office still.

Here's to earnest civil servants.

hey, it's holly again, the resident mike cutter stan on the blog!

i think a lot of people probably responded to mike initially the way you did—sam waterston/jack mccoy is a ridiculously tough act to follow, and i think that's part of why they didn't do the reshuffle sooner. how do you follow up Thee Jack McCoy??? it's a near-impossible task!

but yes, i totally agree that linus roache knocks it out of the park. he breathes a new life into the show, channeling the firebrand streak of early jack but making it his own with icy rage, and creates a complicated, wounded semi-anti-hero worthy of the series. same goes for the dynamics crafted between him and connie, and him and jack—sure, there are plenty of parallels between jack/claire and jack/adam schiff (which i'm sure is intentional), but they're a well-balanced triumvirate that makes it so easy to root for all of them as a team (i could go on for hours about the mike/jack surrogate father relationship, but i won't—although my personal blog dms and asks are always open, haha!)

i don't know how many people have seen this (or if this was intentional on the part of the set designers) but in season 21 a couple of people spotted this sign in the DA's office (thank you to @scoriasoil for the pics + the original post):

since it says "chief assistant d.a." and not "executive" (mike's original title and jack's title when he first joined the show), it gives the impression that both mike and connie have been promoted (i guess she came back from the feds since that season 15 svu episode!) and are still at the DA's office—i have to believe it's canon! (in a more recent episode from season 22, they changed the sign to read "chief asst. D.A. nolan price" which DOESN'T MAKE SENSE. that's literally not his title!!! ANYWAY...)

this is probably a wayyyyy longer answer than you wanted, but that's the price you pay for mike cutter appreciation from me, haha.

indeed, here's to earnest civil servants! :)

~holly

[demonsandmischief]

Our Moment Finale

Marvel - A Captain America Fairytale AU

King! Steve Rogers x Female Reader

1.8K Words

Here's Pt 1 and Pt 2

-Part 3-

the conclusion

----

You didn't waste anytime getting home, collapsing onto your bed with a sob that you muffled with your palm. It seemed nothing good could ever truly be yours.

You glanced around the small attic space with blurry tears. The house was supposed to be for you. Your father had left it in your name, yet your step-mother was able to work her way around that.

It was the only reason you stuck around, the only reason you put up with all of it. You were over it.

Peaches was the only thing that you felt a connection to. Your father adored her, and you were honored that you got to bond with her.

You made up your mind. It was time to move on. You dried that last of your tears and began packing a bag. You carefully folded your mother's dress and put it back in the box you got it from. One day when the memories weren't as painful, you would come back for it.

You wished things could be different with your life, but mostly with Steve. You should have known better than to get tied up with the king. It was too good to be true. You felt you had done everything you could to win over his trust, but obviously not enough.

You strapped your bag to your horse. The next town was about a days ride, and you could figure out where to go from there.

---

Steve didn't hesitate to saddle his own horse as quickly as possible. He had to go after you - had to explain. He couldn't lose you. You were the only good thing to ever happen to him.

He stalled in his tracks. Explain what exactly? That his biggest fear was being used and never being loved? He shook his head.

"My king, where are you off to?" a guard asked confused.

"I have to leave."

"But the ball-"

"Tell the court I will explain when I get back."

"Wait, you can't leave without someone going with you."

Steve was already racing down the path, his heart racing along with it.

"There's no time for that," he called. He could take care of himself.

He thought of you as he followed the familiar trail. He thought of the first day you met, and all of the moments thereafter. You always made time for him, always listened to what he had to say. You were attentive and doting.

He had screwed up.

The trail became less familiar. He didn't know where he was going, or how he would find you. He swallowed down the panic. He couldn't lose you. It was a constant circling thought.

Eventually the trail ended and he slowed to a trot. He saw a house up ahead, and a royal carriage in front of it.

He slowed, finding Sam speaking to a guard.

"What are you doing here and how did you get here so fast?" Steve asked.

Sam took his horse's reins. "I know something has been up with you lately, but you can explain later. The lady you talked to at the ball is in the house."

Your step-mother. He had some words for her, but first he needed you.

"Thank you, Sam. I owe you," Steve said, heading for the door.

"Your highness, it's a pleasure to have you in our home-"

"Don't act like I don't know what is going on," he said, cutting her off. "I will deal with you later. Is she here? Where is her room?"

The lady paled even beneath the layers of powder on her cheek.

"S-She's not-" she swallowed at Steve's fierce look, before gathering her wits. "My king, she's not here. She's hardly ever here. I'll show you where she prefers to spend her time."

Steve followed her down a hallway to a door with a winding staircase. She guided him up and into the small room at the top. The ceilings were so low that he had to scrunch his shoulders.

He took in the space, feeling upset at your living conditions.

"Leave me," he demanded, unable to look away from the small bed in the corner, one that contained a single blanket and a pillow, folded neatly on the end.

The step-mother was right. It looked like someone hardly lived here, except there was a freshly cut flower on the windowsill, soaking in the low, dusty light. And the books you had borrowed from his own library sat tucked by the bed. Most importantly, the beautiful dress that he never got to say anything to you about was hanging from the sides of a box under the bed. You must have been in a haste to leave.

He frowned, bending down to pick up a folded piece of paper. Were those the things you did by yourself? What had you gone through?

Steve cursed. He wished he could have started the night over. He wished that he had gone through his original plan instead of being sucked into his own insecurities.

"Where would she have gone?" he asked impatiently to the lady who was lounging on her couch.

"If she isn't in the barn with that horse, I have no clue."

There was no sign of a horse or you. He closed his eyes, feeling the anxiety creeping in and swallowing him whole. It was dark and late, and you were somewhere all alone. It was all his fault.

"She might know someone in the next town over," Sam suggested. "We could head over tomorrow."

"That's a days journey. I'll start the route tonight."

"You're exhausted, Steve," he protested.

"Just in case," his words dropped to a hoarse whisper, his mind plunged into the darkest corners.

Sam nodded. "We will catch up with you tomorrow then. Be safe."

He nodded, already going down the dark path, his heart thudding loud in his ears.

---

You were taking a break and letting Peaches rest. The fire you built was warm and soothing on your stiff limbs. Even after the incident in the woods a while back, it didn't scare you to be out alone. The stars and the moon made it seem as though you could feel your parents, and you enjoyed the sentiment, especially after the day you had.

You rested your head on your hand, your eyes fluttering closed. They were dry and sticky from the tears that had fallen.

You gave a shuddering hiccup, unable to give into the heartbreak anymore. You were cried out. Beyond upset - a numbness covered your whole body like a scab on a wound.

You jolted, hearing steps near you and you staggered quickly to your feet.

"Thank god you're alright," Steve said, rushing towards you. He pulled you tight into his embrace, and it took everything in you not to hug him back.

"What are you doing here, your highness?" you asked confused, trying to pull away. He didn't let go, only eased back so his hand remained on your shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I believed her over you. I'm sorry that it took me so long to come after you. I'm sorry for everything," he said the words so sincerely that tears filled your eyes for the millionth time tonight. He caressed you cheek, using the pad of his thumb to dry a fallen drop. "And it's just Steve to you."

"But you still did it," you whispered, voice thick with tears. "You don't trust me."

"I do trust you," he said earnestly. "and I care about you. It has been a long time since I shared those emotions with anyone."

"It doesn't matter," you successfully pull away. His hands drop dejectedly to his side. "You're a king, and I'm me. It would have never worked out."

It was quiet a moment. "Why didn't you tell me what you were going through at home?"

You sat down and Steve followed. "I didn't want you to think I was using you. I guess we both have our own insecurities."

He looked into the dimming flames of the fire. "Insecurities or not, I shouldn't have accused. I'm sorry I hurt you."

He waited, but you said nothing. "We're both exhausted and need sleep. Why don't we head back?" He stood, holding out his hand to you.

You shook your head, "I'm not going back."

He paused, fully expecting that response, but it still took him aback. He definitely wasn't going to leave you alone in the middle of nowhere though.

"Okay," he nodded, heading to his horse.

You frowned.

He turned with a blanket, draping it over you, before tending to the fire. Finally, he sat next to you with a sigh. His body was pressed against yours and you couldn't help but sag in relief at the support.

"You can't stay. You have to get back," you protested.

"Shh," he eased, kissing your forehead ever so softly. "Sleep a bit and then we will talk."

---

Gentle light breaking through the trees awoke you from your slumber. You shivered from the damp cold, curling closer to the source of warmth beneath you. Your eyes fluttered and you realized you were practically laying on top of Steve.

You called his name, shaking him gently.

"We fell asleep," you told him with a yawn, falling back onto his chest. It was the best sleep you ever had.

He hummed, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"I'm sorry. You must be freezing," he said coming to, easing the both of you up. Your cheeks heated and you moved to get off of his lap.

He adjusted the blanket so it was pulled tight over your shoulders.

"Come back with me, please," he whispered, turning your chin to look at him. "You can stay with me. I just want to be with you."

"You want me to stay with you?" you asked.

"We could get married in the summer," he grinned, the first genuine smile you had seen in a while.

"Married?" you asked, biting back a smile.

He nodded eagerly. "I'm falling in love with you."

---

Epilogue:

"Come on," Steve encouraged, pulling you eagerly down the hall to your favorite room in the palace.

Things were working out good, really good, between the two of you.

"What are we doing?"

"Close your eyes," he smiled, taking his large warm hands and covering them for you.

He pulled them off with an exaggerated ta-da, revealing a new shelf next to his in the library.

"Now you have your own spot for all of your favorites."

"Thank you," you smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "I love it. I love you."

And they lived happily ever after.

---

Hope you enjoyed 💕

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[mammonsvulva]

 i personally find it super interesting when writers incorporate their own culture into their work could you do like a head canon of everyone doing something from your culture with MC? F!MC please if you can

Oooh I actually really like that idea ~~I am mixed but I’ll pick something from my Hispanic side and give you this😚

Thank you to Prince Royce and Romeo Santos for existing.

(Definitely will do the Datables soon🥳)

The Brothers learning to dance Bachata

Lucifer❤️

Is actually intrigued and excited to see MC wanted to teach him something from her culture

Literally what the fuck is this)

Doesn’t really like it at first but will try for MC

Practices in secret to show off to MC

Will make direct eye contact just to see her blush

“I will be the only one you dance this intimately with, do you understand?”

Is glad he took the time to learn when MC becomes homesick.

“May I join?” When he catches MC dancing by herself trying to remember what it was like up back home

Hoping that dancing with her in her room would be enough to cheer her up

Mammon💛

Is interested and actually excited to see what MC was hyping up

Literally flips the f*ck out when he sees the intimacy required

“I want to keep practicing to get better”

(“I want to stay this close to you MC”)

Actually, when Mammon finally starts getting good he gains some confidence

Actually gets really into it, hip movements on GOD MODE (making MC ready to act up🚫🧢)

Once when Mammon and MC were at some party he got invited to, Mammon was getting ‘concerned’ for MC

Concerned = Jealous

Thank God MC chose some music cause obviously he had to start flexing on these low level demons

Kinda really actually gets all cocky while dancing cause he’s confident in what she taught him

Gets super embarrassed thinking about it later (💔)

Leviathan💙

MC wants to teach him to dance? Normie shit dude

Does the “WOOOOAAAHHH” noise and immediately burns up when she starts demonstrating on him

MC forces him to learn and he just complains the whole time

(Like man she can see you blushing dude you not slick)

“This is such Normie stuff” and “I could be watching anime rn” while stuttering constantly

(My mans heart can’t take this bruh, he’s gonna pass out)

(Secretly enjoys and asks dumb questions to keep her close)

One day they’re listening to Levi’s play list to hear that he added some of her songs

After some convincing, they end up dancing and giggling around his room for a while

Satan💚

Has read books about all types of human dance but has never actually attempted to do so

Doesn’t take much convincing, is obviously taking every opportunity given to touch MC👀

Is glad to have MC this close so he can tease her, and flex on his brothers

“Your hips make very good hand rests, I wonder how long it takes for you to get tired of swinging them,”

Loves seeing the way she lights up when he goes to spin her or when her favorite part comes on

Is definitely going to learn Spanish so he can say whatever he wants, whenever he wants and only she will understand

When he sees her stressfully studying in their library he knows just the way to help

Just dance away the stress listening to her favorite songs

Asmodeus💞

Down before he even knows what the fuck bachata is

(“Can I teach you how to-“ “Yes.”)

“OOH LALA MC! FEELING BOLD TODAY ARE WE?”

Gets it immediately, literally almost as good as MC and he just learned

Asmo is thee perfect dance partner on Diavolo

Will dance ‘til MC drops cause he won’t

When the DJ at The Fall®️ starts taking song requests and Asmo sees MC go up, oh yeah- shit is bout to go down

Start going HAM with everybody hyping them up, videos went viral on Devilgram

Suddenly everyone wants to learn, especially everybody who crushes on them two- in hopes of getting a dance like that~

Beelzebub🧡

Is happy to learn anything for MC :)

Really likes the music, and also likes how close MC is, (‘She smells nice’)

Since MC is so much smaller than Beel he barely holds her in fear of hurting her (💔)

“But what if I hurt you? :(“

Is just so pure the whole time, genuinely just enjoying the moment

When MC was cooking dinner, she started humming a song she had danced to with Beel

So obviously Beel had to play it and dance around with MC while she was cooking

Stress free, just spinning around the kitchen having fun

“BEEL WAIT THE FOODS BURNING!!”

Belphegor💜

Takes every bone in MCs body to convince him

“Can we da-“ “No.”

Literally makes MC peel him from his bed

Finally gave in and surprisingly had it down in a couple of minutes

Will tease just because he can by making smug comments and pulling MC a little closer than she needs to be

“Who knew you would feel like this pressed up against me? Honestly, you’re making it hard to let go”

Personally LOVES it when MC puts her face in his neck, makes him feel all fuzzy and whatever

Everybody was sitting around listening to stories from MCs home and things she liked to do, when Belphie brings up what they have been practicing

Obviously has everyone heated because he only brought it up to flex on them

(‘Haha you f*ckin wish MC thought you this’)

Mammon is throwing a fit while Asmo is hyping them up, literal chaos with the others too

In the end, is actually very glad she convinced him to learn from her, because now he has every excuse too stay close to her

I hope you guys like this one even though it’s kind of specific :( </3

[script-nef]

#bokutoisblessed | Bokuto Koutarou

Category: crack, fluff

2.2k words; MSBY fans dying over Bokuto and his family

Bokuto uploaded another photo

It seems like just yesterday little Hana was swaddled in his arms and now look at her. Like. Holy [censored] look at the [censored] post. 

Dudes like. She can walk now. Her steps are so wobbly but also so cute and my heart like????? Just exploded when we were gifted with the sight of her??? AND THE WAY SHE GIGGLED WHEN SHE ARRIVED AT HER MUM’S LAP A SAFJAKFDL I CAN’T BREATHE

Comments [Anon]: Honestly we the fans of Black Jackals are so blessed because we get to experience this joy and bundle of life thanks to our lord and saviour Bokuto Koutarou and his amazing wife, who will hereby be named Kami-sama. Because God is a woman I called it.

[Anon]: I agree with 97% of this, except for the Kami-sama part. She said it’s uncomfortable and embarrassing so we have to call her something else. How about Wife-sama. That should be fine, right?

[Anon]: Oh I saw that post Bokuto put up! Saying how much he’s thankful for the support but not to call her that! The upload was a short video of her turning red after he called her Kami-sama and it’s a treasure I will keep for the rest of my life. And into the afterlife. Death can try to pull it out of my cold, dead hand but I won’t let it. YOU HEAR ME DEATH???? YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS FROM MEEEEEE

[Anon]: Bokuto said Wife-sama is fine! Apparently she was still red and it was the cutest thing ever. Bokuto is so biased (*cough cough* whipped *cough cough*) but hey I’m not complaining. I don’t think my imagination will ever come close to the actual reaction but I hope it does.

[Anon]: Do you guys remember, when he just started dating her, how he flooded us with posts of her and her only? Like, practically 95% of my feed was her since he was putting so much of them up. She could literally be doing nothing and he’ll be like “HOLY [censored] LOOK AT MY GIRLFRIEND!!!” Without swearing because he doesn’t do that, but still.

[Anon]: OH AND THEN HE GOT INTO TROUBLE WITH HIS SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER ASKJDSKDJF THAT WAS GOLD

[Anon]: THEY LITERALLY PUT A VIDEO UP OF THEM TRYING TO TELL BOKUTO WHY HE SHOULDN’T DO THAT AND HE CONSTANTLY SAID “BUT I’M DATING HER AND THIS IS MY WAY OF SAYING I LOVE HER!!” LIKE BOI WE GET IT EVEN ALIENS WILL GET IT

[Anon]: And it started up again when she was pregnant with Hana. Like I could make a time-lapse video or whatever of her pregnancy just from the photos he put up

[Anon]: I honestly wonder how many photos he has of her and Hana

[Anon]: Probably a couple thousand. I mean like, I have a couple thousand of MBSY members but my love for them pales in front of Bokuto for Wife-sama, so.

→ Continue thread

Holy [censored] I just met Bokuto

Okay so there was news about a new resident coming into our apartment, more specifically my neighbouring unit. It was previously occupied by this really old couple and we had this small farewell party. They dropped hints that the new residents might be kind of loud but that they were great.

A few days later, my doorbell rings and who do I see? It’s [censored] Bokuto. Like, straight up. In his casual clothes. Exactly the same as the photo on his Insta page where he said he was moving. Which I liked practically a few hours ago.

He was standing there with the biggest smile and saying that he’s the new resident and that they’re giving out homemade cookies because of the baby and Bokuto’s volume. And invited me to a small dinner. And I’m. Like my brain. Literally. Like my brain is even blank now. Bokuto. Invited me. To his house. So I could have dinner. And see his wife. And little Hana. 

So I am here now, raiding my wardrobe to see if I have anything wearable because HOLY [censored] [censored] [censored] I’M GOING TO HAVE DINNER WITH BOKUTO AND HIS FAMILY I’LL REPORT BACK LATER IF HE’S FINE WITH ME SHARING THIS EXPERIENCE OKAY I REALLY GOTTA GO BECAUSE MY HEART IS BEATING WAY TOO FAST AND I NEED TO HAVE SOME MEDICINE

[Edit]: This was riddled with spelling mistakes because my hands were shaking from the aftershock.

Comments [Anon]: ???? What did you do in your past life to be awarded the opportunity of being neighbours with Bokuto???? Did you like, save the country or something? Is that what it takes to be blessed with him?

[Anon]: No you gotta at least save the entire Earth for this damn dude thanks for your service I guess

[Anon]: But if you gotta save the world to be neighbours with Bokuto, then what the hell did Wife-sama do to be married to him?

[Anon]: She saved the universe

[Anon]: But I think Bokuto will be the one to say he saved the universe to be with her that cheesy dork ugh I love you

[Anon]: LMAO I CAN HEAR HIM SCREAMING THAT

[Anon]: Are you back yet? Are you alive? Are you blinded by the magnificence that is Bokuto Koutarou and his family? I know I would be. So in order to kill me as well, TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED YOU CAN’T KEEP US OUT LIKE THIS I AM KNEELING ON THE FLOOR AND BEGGING FOR THE INTERACTION PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I BEG OF THEE I WANT SOME MORE SIR

[OP]: That’s really weird so stop that. I’m just about to go out now! I’ll spend the dinner over there, experience heaven, hope I don’t die of heart failure and possibly come back with a war story. If they allow me. Wish me luck guys.

[Anon]: GO BRAVELY SOLDIER AND MAKE US PROUD I AM PRAYING THAT THEY’LL BE KIND ENOUGH TO LET YOU SHARE THIS WONDERFUL EXPERIENCE

I’M BACK

Okay so that could only be described as one of the best moments in my entire life. Don’t worry, they said it’s fine if I share this. #actualsaints

So I finally found an outfit and took the chocolate that I was saving for myself, but since I can give my arm and leg for Bokuto what the [censored] is a chocolate, right?

I’m greeted by Wife-sama herself. Like. Less than a metre from me, saying “good afternoon” and smiling like the saint of tranquillity. (A side note but how do you have that when you live with Bokuto? And a child? My brother wants to know your secrets.) And she’s wearing what I think is Bokuto’s shirt since it’s way too big for her, I mean the end comes to her thighs. Sharing shirts is the most romantic thing a couple can do I don’t make the rules I’m just the messenger.

Anyway she invites me into their house, their amazingly aesthetical and cozy house. There’s a display case for all of Bokuto’s trophies, awards, certificates and everything. There are photographs of them together all over the walls, hung from strings spanning the entire house. There was a wall section dedicated entirely to Hana-chan. I felt like an uncivilised cave gremlin there.

Wife-sama was still making dinner and I was going to help her but little Hana-chan came to me. Like, she tottered over to me in the blue frilly dresses and tugged on my pants, babbling and smiling. Y’all I nearly died. I literally saw the gates of heaven and had a foot in but Wife-sama saved me by pulling me back into reality. By asking me if I wanted to play with Hana-chan. Which killed me again. And she was apologetic about it too? Like she doesn’t think I would give my kidney to spend time with her?

So I was playing with Hana but sneakily looking at the two of them being cute as hell in the kitchen. Bokuto was attached to her at the hip for the whole time except for when she asked him to get some ingredients. He was a puppy incarnate. They were sneaking kisses, whispering to each other and it was honestly so cute like I was getting diabetes just from one night. 

The food was amazing, the dinner talk was so fun and delightful, Hana-chan was the cutest little angel ever, this was probably the best day of my life. AND WHEN I LEFT FOR THE NIGHT, THEY BOTH HUGGED ME AND IT WAS LIKE BEING HUGGED BY CLOUDS BUT THEY SMELLED SO NICE!!

I shall never forget this day. Mark my words y’all.

Comments [Anon]: How beautiful was their place? I feel like she would go with a pastel tone or black and white. And have cute things littered around everywhere.

[OP]: The house was really unique in the sense that it felt like two houses smashed together. Like they took turns decorating each section of the house. Looked like polar opposites. It was kind of weird at first but the aesthetics flowed well the longer I stayed there, if you can understand what I’m saying.

[Anon]: The fact that Bokuto and Wife-sama are practically opposites in many things but still formed a romantic relationship with each other and the fact that their taste or preferences complement each other perfectly is proof that they are soulmates. In this essay I will

[Anon]: Where’s the essay. Dude where’s the [censored] essay

[Anon]: HEY MAN COME BACK WHERE’S MY ESSAY

[Anon]: NOOOOOOOOOOO THE SACRED TEXTS

[Anon]: Bruh just a kidney? Take my [censored] liver. Take my heart. Oh no wait, she already has it in her squishy widdle hands.

[Anon]: I bid my left arm

[Anon]: Right arm

[Anon]: Lungs

[Anon]: I really love my brain but I barely use it so off it goes I guess

[OP]: ???? Guys? What are you doing? Stop this illegal organ trade in my post.

[Anon]: Shhhhh we’re showing our love

I saw Bokuto shopping and it was so cute

I do not do clickbait, it was genuinely adorable and my cheeks are about to fall off. As was everyone else’s in the entire mall.

I was just doing some shopping, getting some snacks and popcorn for the movie marathon I was going to have and who do I hear? Yeah, it’s Bokuto. And little Hana-chan whining to Wife-sama about how she’s not getting the snacks they want. It’s from memory since I didn’t take a video, I’m not a creep and I understand boundaries unlike some of you assholes, but it went something like this.

Bokuto: But think of all the caramel popcorn we could eat! Hana: Mama, sweeties. Sweeties. (What an angel, am I right?) Wife-sama: I already said no, it’s going to ruin your dinner. Hana: But it’s tasty! Bokuto: Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase? I’ll do all of the dishes and cleaning today! Wife-sama: You already do that every day, Kou. It’s not much of a bribe. (Husband goals) And Hana, we have other snacks at home. Caramel is bad for your teeth. Bokuto: But babe! Wife-sama: I said no, and that’s it. Hana: Mama!

It was just this repeated for like 10 minutes with Bokuto and Hana-chan alternating their whines. I would have snapped after 5 times but wow, this lady has the mental fortitude of Fort Knox.

They both sulked and followed her around as she finished her shopping. I can tell Hana is Bokuto’s daughter because her hair droops down like his and a cloud forms over her head. It was practically magic.

In the end, they bought one (1) salted caramel popcorn because Wife-sama is too soft-hearted and they literally clung onto her for 5 minutes peppering her with kisses. And Bokuto actually lifted her in his embrace. In the middle of the sweets section. Where everyone was looking.

Needless to say, she was very very red.

Comments [Anon]: Conspiracy theory: factoring in Bokuto’s godlike physical ability, inhumane and endless sunny disposition, his hair’s ability to reflect his moods, it can be concluded that Bokuto is, in fact, a God.

[Anon]: Well someone has a big brain

[Anon]: Wait then Wife-sama would be a Goddess. Gasp SHE DIDN’T WANT PEOPLE CALLING HER KAMI-SAMA BECAUSE IT WOULD BLOW HER COVER

[Anon]: Oh yeah, it’s all coming together

[Anon]: I can kind of see Bokuto and Hana sneaking in sweets and snacks into the trolley while Wife-sama isn’t looking lmao

[OP]: THEY ACTUALLY DID THAT I nearly ran into them again and heard her berating Bokuto for sneaking in chocolate and shoving it beneath all the meat so she wouldn’t notice. My man, please. You can never outsmart your wife.

[Anon]: Next time I go to the MSBY fan meeting, I’m bringing all the sweets I can for Bokuto and Hana. It’s the least I can do.

[Anon]: They’re so cute and I can’t wait for the MSBY match in three days where Bokuto’s family is going to attend. I promise I’ll post about it afterwards.

[hermit-pistol]

Guido Mista Fluff Alphabet:

Okay Mista fans, here’s your food. Only one more alphabet and this series will be one! Make sure to show love and read under the cut!

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Mista has a super adventurous personality and this also shows in the activities that you two take part in. He always likes to do things that others would usually think of as silly, like going to the zoo. But! He always finds a way to make it entertaining and unforgettable. (Who wants to hold the baby kangarooooo)

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He loves your laugh, and whenever he gets to hear it, it feels like the best reward for him. While he may have flirted with his fair share of girls in the past, looks aren't most important to him. In order to get you rolling around on the floor, he'll have to pull out the big guns, of course. Sometimes he'll tag team with Narancia to pull pranks just to get a rise out of you.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Mista absolutely hates when you're sad because that also makes him feel sad. When he sees you sulking on the couch, he joins you, wrapping his large arms around you. He'll keep asking you why you're sad while sticking out his lower lip, (which was absolutely lethal for you). Soon after, you forgot why you were down in the dumps, which was Mista's main goal the whole time.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He's a romantic, so he's always thinking about the future and what it will bring in regards to his love life. Within a few years of dating, he'll already want to move in and get a dog. Maybe two dogs, who knows. He sees marriage, children, grandchildren...all of it.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Mista can be pretty stubborn in certain situations. He will make the plans for dates and activities that the two of you can enjoy. He'll always ask you for your input, of course. Overall, the balance of power in the relationship is equal.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Mista can be a little childish when disagreements are involved. There's a possibility that he'll use humor to get out of a sticky situation, but don't let him get away with this all the time. If he's in the wrong let him know, or else things can get blown out of proportion easily.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Mista thanks you for the companionship and happiness that you've brought into his life. You are the longest relationship that he's had in quite some time given his current line of work, and he loves that you have the patience to stick around with him. Even though his stand keeps him company most of the time, he's glad to share time with another human.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Mista is very honest with you. Whether it be where he's going on a mission (sometimes, Bruno yells at him for telling you this), or telling you about his past before joining the organization, he's very transparent with you. You appreciate this, and make sure that you do the same. Hardly any secrets are kept between you.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Like R mentions 👀, you inspire him to keep himself clean. Of course, a normal person would want to keep up with appearances but Mista is a very special guy.... While he was cheerful before the relationship he's over the moon when he sees you and prioritizes your time together.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Mista will be quiet, which is very uncharacteristic of him. His stand will always manifest and say whatever he’s thinking, probably along the lines of taunting and verbally harassing the person you’re talking to before they eventually grow frustrated and walk away. The Pistols would cheer, celebrating their victory.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Mista's kisses are very eager and wanting. In addition, he doesn't care who's around and has absolutely no problem with kissing in public. Even if you blush and get embarrassed this only give him another reason to hold you tighter and go to town. Prepare yourself... 😳

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Mista will literally confess to you on the street. The first time he tells you that he loves you is actually in casual conversation. You had to do a double take, and he merely shrugged in response. It would take some getting used to, but you were elated that he felt the same as you!

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He'll want to get married after his time in Passione is over, or at least has settled down to where he can live comfortably with you. The ceremony will be small, with only a few family members attending. Even if you haven't yet upgraded to a larger living space, he'll want to start a family right away. If you decide you're not ready you remind him that the Pistols are already his children.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Every name invented is fair game. He loves using stupid niche names too that come up after a few months of dating. Examples include but are not limited to: "green bean", "lil mami", and "bicycle crusher" (the last refers to your thighs in a related incident).

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He tells the gang that he's crushing on someone all the time, so when he first reveals that he's in love they really don't believe him at first. Although he "always says that", it's the Pistols that escalate the situation even further. Whenever you're along with him they'll come out and start egging him on with kissy noises and the like. He'll turn as red as a tomato when you grant him his wish.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Mista LOVES to show you off in public, and he loves watching the reactions of the passerby as he has an arm slung around your waist traveling dangerously close to your butt. It drives him nuts that out of all of the guys in Italy you chose him, and now that you two are a couple he wants to show the world.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

While many other guys may hate the concept of hugging, Mista loves it wholeheartedly. Whenever you're having a bad day, a good day, or are just walking around he won't hesitate to wrap his arms around you and smile. Sometimes the Pistols will even join in for a group hug! He's basically the hug king, and you're not opposed to that role.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Very romantic babey. Since he’s so smelly he would suggest taking a bath or shower with you. This will take some extreme confidence from both of you. Whether it becomes sexual or not, just being intimate in this way is so special to him.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He believes in you like nobody's business. Also, he loves seeing when you follow through with your goals and sees your dreams coming to fruition! It's extremely exciting for him, and you love seeing his reactions to watching you succeed.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Mista loves the thrill that life and living provides. There's something new that arises every day you spend with him, and you never get bored. Loves booking hotel rooms for trips and the like and not telling you until the night before, which can be stressful yet cute.

U nderstanding - How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Mista is stupid but means well. Sometimes you can quiz him, and he'll still forget something as simple as your favorite food, or your favorite color. In time, he'll learn more about you and your emotions, but for now every time you tell him a fact about yourself he'll write it in his phone so he doesn't forget. 🥺

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Mista will be so cheesy about telling you how much you mean to him. -"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...."- <-- If he pulls anything like this he usually givers you permission to slap him. You're one of the only partners that's stuck around with him for this long, and he's not planning on letting you go any time soon.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Mista insists that he should help around the house at times, and this means that he's going to help with the chores in any way that he can. You end up assigning him grocery shopping (a big mistake). He is so unorganized and claims that he doesn’t need a list to go off of, and this usually results in him buying whatever he wants. Watch him get all the way home and still manage to forget the milk and bread. Good thing he bought the family pack of ice cream sandwiches though.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

If you look up affectionate in the dictionary, there's a very good chance that you'll see Mista's name. He loves to cuddle with you and especially loves to nap with you because of the intimacy. Mista can nap anywhere, anytime, but he prefers falling asleep with you in his arms!

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Mista will be soooo needy when you are away, and so will the Pistols. When you have the free time between class or meetings he'll call you begging for you to come home with his six children screaming in the background. Eventually, it'll get to be too much and you have no choice but to come home, much to his delight. He'll never let you go.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Mista will definitely buy you presents if he has the money at hand. Expect lavish gifts like jewelry and clothes from him, whether it's a special occasion or not. If he could, he'd give you the world, but at times you have to remind him that you have more than enough and you don't need to be impressed by physical possessions.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

FICTIONAL CHARACTER ASK: DON GIOVANNI

TAGGED BY: @princesssarisa​

@draculashaxanbride @superkingofpriderock @notyouraveragejulie @mademoiselle-princesse @tilthenextbluemoon @chansondefortunio @solraneth @solevenus @gravedangerahead​ @smile-at-the-stars​ @professorlehnsherr-almashy​

Favorite Thing Abouth Them: In modern western pop culture, the zeitgeist has been dominated by stories of villain protagonists with tragic pasts and motivations that make them so sympathetic that sometimes we ask ourselves: “Are the studios sure they know how to make villain protagonists, or did they basically made heroes going trough an angsty goth fase”? 

This phenomenon has quickly grown tyring, and most of those stories are not very good. So its enjoyable to go to an old work like an 18th century opera, and watch Don Giovanni be a classic villain of whose past we don’t need to know (since this doesn’t matter to the plot) and who is unabashedly evil, with no simpathetic motivations to be seen: he just wants to satisfy his pleasures at the suffering of others, and we love to hate him for it.

Least Favorite Thing About Them: Not much... just the fact that he is a mysoginist and his “little crimes” of seduction, rape and murder in petty duels. Thank Heavens he is a fictional character, because man like him are more than enough nightmare in real life.

Three Things I Have In Common With Them:

*I enjoy wine.

*I enjoy the comfort of music.

*I sometimes show a goofy sense of humour, like in the scene where Don Giovanni literary invites a statue to dine at his house.

Three Things I Don't Have In Common With Them:

*I am not male.

*I am not an aristocrat.

*I never killed anyone.

Favorite Line:

These lines he says in the famous ACT I duet Là ci darem la mano, where he tries to manipulate Zerlina to sleep with him:

Là ci darem la mano, Là mi dirai di sì. Vedi, non è lontano; Partiam, ben mio, da qui.

Vieni, mio bel diletto!

Io cangierò tua sorte.

Andiam, andiam, mio bene, a ristorar le pene d'un innocente amor.

(Give me thy hand, oh fairest, Whisper a gentle 'Yes', Come, if for me thou carest, With joy my life to bless.

Come, dearest, let me guide thee.

Danger shall ne'er come nigh thee! With thee, with thee, my treasure, This life is nought but pleasure, My heart is fondly thine.)

brOTP: Leporello in the opera itself. Outside of it, the bawd lady Brigida and Don Luis Mejia, from José Zorrilla’s version of the Don Juan Story, the play Don Juan Tenorio, who was his friendly rival in competitions of “Who kills more man and beds more ladies”, and the Duke of Mantua from Verdi’s Rigoletto, with whom i can definitly see Don Giovanni being drinking budies.

OTP: He does not love anyone but himself.

nOTP: Donna Anna, Donna Elvira and Zerlina.

Random Headcanon: Like in Zorrilla’s Don Juan Tenorio, Don Giovanni’s father also cutted ties with his son and disowned him after learning what a cruel and selfish man he was. But Don Giovanni went a step beyond his stage play equivalent, paying someone to poison his father and modifying the dead man’s will so he could inherit his fortune anyway. That’s why he is still rich.

Unpopular Opinion: I think i find him most interesting having the appearance of a middle aged man between mid thirties and forties instead of looking like a conventionally young and handsome twenty something, because, besides adding to the creepyness factor and to the idea that he has sinned for so long in his life he is now beyond redemption, it also gives the idea that his seduction power is more deep, based in how he exudes power and command and talks in a charming way, instead of the superficial “Because his body is hot” reason.

Song I Associate With Them:

Là ci darem la mano

Favorite Picture of Them:

This painting my Max Slevgot

This paing by Alexander-Évarist Fragonard

Nicolai Ghiaurov in the early 60s

Ruggero Raimond in the 1979 movie

Samuel Ramey, with Karita Mattila as Donna Elvira, in 1990

Ferrucio Furlanetto

[write-nerdy-to-me]

Who’s Da New King of the Universe?

Ever since I saw the s5b trailer, I’ve been thinking some Thoughts™ about where the show is going, where these characters’ journeys of self-discovery will lead, so on and so forth. Putting aside my Deckerstar fears (which, hello theme of the season — “that’s all they are, fears”), I want to talk about the plot they’ve introduced with the return of God, and more specifically, who I believe will actually “become God.” (Though can an angel just assume this role…? I’m getting ahead of myself.)

For the first time in millennia (possibly ever), God has touched down to earth. This unexpected visit is fraught with tension and unease for a myriad of reasons: Why now? How come God hasn’t reached out before? What does this mean for everyone? What does this mean for Lucifer? Why did God do what he did? Why, why, why… 

Already, Lucifer is trying to navigate his new-and-fragile relationship with Chloe and deal with Michael, The First Fearmonger, who is still lingering about. There’s no doubt about the inevitable internal turmoil Lucifer will experience with facing the being he curses the most (besides himself). Then, to really top everything off, God announces his retirement. Like, holy shit, that’s a lot to deal with. 

So, what does Lucifer do? Well, in Peak Lucifer Fashion™ totally not avoiding the issues at hand — as there are no issues, obviously — he decides that he’s going to take his father’s place and become G-O-D (or Lod, if you’re feeling fresh. Please don’t call him Lod). He certainly can’t let Michael take their father’s place, that’s for damn sure. But, and this is important, is ruling the universe what Lucifer truly desires?

Lucifer has grown so much since his and Chloe’s first meeting, there’s no denying that. Of course, he’s not without slip-ups, just as anyone else isn’t, but he’s trying and that’s what matters. Before, everything he did was ultimately flipping the bird to his dad (but also to himself, but that’s some other shit), yet he willingly, selflessly returned to the place he vowed to never step foot in — just to protect Chloe, to protect humanity. He had no idea when he would be able to return, if he would even be able to. Would he ever get to see Chloe again? I’m sure the question haunted him for those thousands of years, as there’s no way he’d believe they’d reunite in hell.

Anyway, deeper Lucifer analysis aside, I just… don’t see him actually wanting the responsibility the role of God brings. Ruling hell, being a king, was always a job that was put on him and he met it great reluctance, if not outright hostility. “It was a job, Detective. Something I was forced to do.” Lucifer doesn’t have any desire to rule demons — he was all for the demons themselves to become the new king, just so he didn’t have to go back — but... Lucifer will be fine and dandy to rule... well, everything? Like, if he hates being the king of hell, what’s to say he’s even going to find fulfillment in being Master of the Universe? Lucifer wants to experience humanity, to help them to realize their deepest desires — and, hopefully, understand his own in the process. I believe that he’s latching onto this idea of entering Godhood because he’s avoiding the issues in front of him: Chloe asked him if he loves her back, and he never gave her an answer. He’s distracting himself, doing something dramatic as he’s wont to do — just to realize that he’s right where he’s supposed to be. (Chloe was just getting used to being in love with Thee Devil™, and now he’s... God? Mm, fancy that. The devil doth protest too much, methinks.) So, what does Lucifer want? Well, that’s a whole other convo, which I’m planning to get into later.

Now we have the question: Who is fit to be God?

It’s rather obvious when you think about it. Who is most often ought out, prayed to for help? For guidance?

Amenadiel is known for his strength, his unwavering loyalty, his compassion, and his love for humanity. He didn’t come by the last two easily by any means. Before, he held humanity at a distance by slowing down time and visiting earth without it knowing. It was after staying and experiencing humanity that he began to feel a change in himself. Since his journey of self-discovery, he’s learned that separating himself from people is not what he wants. He’s come to love humanity, and so, let go of the walls that kept him apart. “Look, I wasted so much time keeping them at bay, looking down on them for millennia when they have so much to offer. I’m only now just realizing how lucky that we are that we actually get a chance to connect with them. So I say put up your sign: ‘Open for business. Humanity, come on in.’”

The nuns felt God’s love stronger than ever reflected back at them in the presence of Amenadiel. This had never happened to him before and it couldn’t have happened because he wasn’t ready. After losing his wings, becoming human himself, experiencing loss, he’s closer to humanity than he’s ever been. He’s even a father now, and he finds fulfillment in just being there for Charlie; he doesn’t need anything else. Whereas Lucifer says he’s ~practicing his dad jokes, but has never been too terribly fond of offspring — with the Detective’s being the exception — and has shown no inclination for fatherhood, except, y’know, now that Godhood is dangling in front of his face like the shiny distraction it is. There are the few instances where he’s seen drinking out of the #1 Dad mug, which I think was foreshadowing for God’s arrival and this subsequent idea of Lucifer’s to be God, more than anything. There’s more to being a father than the puns, though. Between these two, I think it’s pretty self-evident who is more fit to carry the responsibility of the universe.

I think, perhaps, Amenadiel will take the universal throne, and Lucifer will continue as he has by guiding souls to their deepest desires. It will be another partnership, the brothers working together instead of against one another — just as they did to light the flaming sword. Someone for strength, someone for honesty. (Who knows, maybe Michael will be in charge of hell — it would either have to be something he’s bound to, or of his own free will. I mean, ~what do you truly fear~ definitely vibes more with the “you fuel your own hell experience with your guilt” thing.)

And now, some visuals and dialogue that make my brain go brrr. 

“Oh well, thanks for nothing.” “Listen, I really wish I could help you find Chloe, but I have faith in you, brother.”

“And what do you need?” “I think I just need someone to hold my hand and tell me everything’s going to be okay.” “I promise you, Linda. Everything is going to be okay.”

“You couldn’t wait to tell everyone up there how all of God’s children create their own fate, how we decide where we belong.”

“I don’t think it’s God’s job to stop the bad. I actually think he’s there to give us the strength to get through it.”

God, thy name is Amenadiel.

tl;dr

I believe s5b will not end with Lucifer as G-O-D, but with Amenadiel. If I haven't convinced you to come over to the Amenadiel as God side, what if I told you that the combined name is Godadiel. God -> Dad -> Amenadiel.

The dots? Connected. The code? Cracked. My sanity? Gone.

[hankwritten]

Lies, Damned Lies, and Valentine’s

Day 7 of the valentine’s day event, Whole Team

“Have the RED team vandalized us in the middle of the night?” Medic asked, gazing around the common room which had been papered with tiny hearts. “What is with all the pink?”

“Ach, it’s Valentine’s day, boyo!” Demo told him with a hearty slap on the back. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

Medic adjusted his glasses, which had fallen out of place with the overzealous display of masculine affection. “My wife and I are…estranged. I have not celebrated a Valentine’s day in a very long time.”

“Well, so long as you made your cards, you’re celebrating just fine.” When Medic didn’t respond, Demo pressed a, “you did make some cards, right lad?”

“Cards for who? I told you I have not spoken to-”

“For the team ya quack,” Demo snorted. “We always make cards for each other on Valentine’s day.”

“…Like kindergarteners,” Medic asked drily.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud doc,” Demo elbowed him. “It’s a tradition.”

Medic crossed his arms, and kicked a small paper heart that had fallen on his shoe. “Well no one told me about it.”

At that, Demo finally paused. “Ah, I suppose everyone forgot to mention it to the rookie. Don’t worry though!” This time, Medic dodged the pat aimed at his shoulder. “Everyone knows you only got here a month or so ago, they won’t hold you to any obligations.”

“What a relief.” Medic rolled his eyes.

He was able to put the ridiculous conversation out of his mind thanks to the oncoming battle, slinging on his pack with a feeling of purpose. Dealing with REDs and avoiding Spies took most of his concentration, as a day that he went about distracted was a day he’d find quite a few Sniper shots through his head. However, as much as he’d dismissed Valentine’s by the midday break that afternoon, it appeared his teammates hadn’t.

He’d followed Heavy to the cover of the sentry nest, but as his partner was filling up Sasha, he noticed that Engie had laid out a few pieces of folded paper on top of the dispenser. Medic wandered closer. It took him a moment to parse what he was seeing, but then he remembered the travesty that had become of the common room and realized Demo had been dead serious about Valentine’s Day. Engineer’s valentines were spread out neatly, all unique, all cheerfully signed by members of the team. Scout had draw a rather good rendition of the man himself standing next to his sentry, a little heart between them. Sniper had written ‘THANKS TRUCKIE’ in block letters. Even Soldier had put in some effort, as he had used red, white, and blue construction paper to make what might have been the shape of Texas if you squinted enough.

Nearby, Pyro was showing off their own collection. Scout had also drawn a picture for them (of Mayor Balloonicorn), which they had delicately set in the grass, their other cards out before them. The one from Engie they were attacking with vigor, since the Engineer had been forward thinking enough to glue tiny pieces of candy to the folded paper.

“They’re all real nice Pyro,” he was chuckling. “Though maybe put them back in your pocket? Don’t want them to get dirty.”

Pyro nodded, and began shuffling them back into a pouch within their chemsuit.

“They take this very seriously, don’t they?” Medic noted absently about the pair.

Heavy, having loaded on the ammo required, turned and saw Medic mulling over Engineer’s cards. “Oh, da! Every year. We do not spend holidays together, so for team, is closest thing.”

As he spoke, he reached into his front pocket. Something with Demo’s handwriting dashed all over it appeared in his hand, obnoxiously saccharine with its copious hearts and overuse of the color red. Yet the Heavy Weapons Guy displayed it proudly, and Medic offered him a wry smile.

“I had no idea,” Medic mused.

“…Team forget to tell you?” Heavy rumbled. “Heavy see. Heavy wondered why doctor did not give him one.”

Medic coughed lightly into his hand. “I wasn’t aware until this morning-”

“No, is alright. Heavy’s little joke.” He patted Medic on the shoulder, which was (surprisingly) more reserved than Demo’s attempt at the same. “We kill RED babies, that is gift enough, da?”

Medic agreed, and followed him off into battle. However, this time the threat of the loving spirit stuck, and Medic found himself skewered on the end of the Spy’s knife more than he was comfortable with. He tried to shake himself, to forget his teammates’ foolish obsession, but one thought kept rankling him: he might have not known to send out cards, but why hadn’t anyone gotten him anything?

They returned to BLU base with an embarrassing loss on their collars, though you wouldn’t know by looking. Everyone was in the common showing of their haul, passing around heart shaped cookies that someone had made last night and stuffed in the fridge. Medic tried one, and nearly gagged on how much sugar had been crammed into such a small package.

Apparently everyone had gotten the same memo about Demo’s cards, as each one came with a tiny novel vodka attached. Demo peeled off the last one (from Soldier with a picture of a shovel on it, saying simply I Dig You) with the utmost care, lining them up next to his whiskey bottle.

“Look!” he grinned to Soldier. “Me scrumpy’s birthed a litter!”

Soldier, who had taken to taping his own cards to his helmet, slapped him on the back. “Congratulations! You’re a grandfather!”

Scout, like Pyro, couldn’t help but flaunt his, claiming that he got the most out of anyone. When Sniper pointed out that everyone got seven cards, he pivoted to say, “yeah well mine are the best, quality over quantity Snipes.”

Medic shouldn’t have been irritated. He didn’t care about Valentine’s Day, not in the slightest, so why was he getting so terse about his teammates’ holiday cheer? Of course they didn’t get cards for the rookie, they probably would have gotten cards for their old Medic, not him.

That thought itself would have put anyone in a sour mood, but the tipping point was when he walked the corner and saw Spy delicately arranged bits of red-hued paper into a manila folder, smiling slightly as he set the last one down. Medic was close enough to read, saw Sniper’s handwriting, and also that the poem it was quoting was incomplete. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. / I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. The next two lines were missing— Medic knew enough of poetry to glean that—which meant Sniper probably had the other half. All shuffled always with the other ones he’d gotten from Scout and Engie and Demo and whoever, but the most important thing Medic could determine from the display was all those people had given Spy valentines too. Spy. Medic’s eye twitched. Before he knew it he was barreling past Spy, out past the others in order to get to the hallway. There were a couple exclamations of confusion, a few calls asking what was wrong, but Medic ignored them all.

He didn’t need their obligatory attempts to include him, he could see when he wasn’t wanted.

“Doctor! Wait!”

He considered not stopping for the deep voice behind him, but unless he wanted to go charging off onto the battlefield, his path would eventually take him back around base. He sighed, and turned to face the man behind him.

“Can I help you?” Medic snapped. There was no use pretending he wasn’t miffed.

“What is the matter?” Heavy asked. “Have not seen you this angry before.”

“Well that is not a big surprise considering we barely know each other, apparently.” Medic crossed his arms.

Heavy furrowed his brow. Always a man of few words, he either didn’t know what to say, or figured it was better not to antagonize Medic further, and so he settled for waiting for his teammate to elaborate.

Medic relented eventually, shoulders sagging as he exhaled. “I realize I am not…part of the team so to speak. I understand I am not as close to you all as your old Medic was, and I do not blame you for not including me, but it is still…difficult to watch everyone open cards and…not receive any myself.” God it sounded so childish when he said it allowed. He was a doctor for god’s sake! He should be above such petty jealousies.

As his self consciousness closed in, he hunched, and failed to look at Heavy. It took the man saying, “doctor did not get valentines? Is not possible,” for Medic to turn back around and see him shaking his head. “At very least, Heavy give card.”

“You…?” Medic unfolded his arms. “When?”

Heavy raised an eyebrow. “Did doctor not check locker?” When Medic blinked, Heavy added, “is where we put at start of day, so none get lost.”

“…Just like in kindergarten,” Medic finished the thought and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God I am such a dummkopf.”

Heavy chuckled, clearly glad to have resolved the situation. “Medic is far from. Come, we look now.”

So Medic did come, entering resupply and walking to his locker, taking a moment to brace himself as he grasped the handle. He turned it. Immediately, he was hit with an avalanche of purple, pink, and red, an absolute tidal wave of valentines rushing out to greet him from where they’d been conglomerating inside his locker like a clogged artery.

There were so many, decorated all with his class symbol or words of thanks. Pyro had made at least four, decorated with crayons and rainbow drawings, sticking slightly where the paint hadn’t dried. Medic picked one off the floor. Scout had drawn Archimedes beautifully, which was astounding considering the two hadn’t gotten along since the Über incident, and it must have been quite a strain to sit still long enough to capture the bird’s likeness. Engie had detailed out a list over every time Medic had saved his bacon in the past month, Spy had written something long and oddly heartfelt, Soldier had gifted him a coupon for one free haircut. The list went on.

It took Heavy gently touching his shoulder while he read Sniper’s uncharacteristically kind letter to realize he was holding his hand over his mouth. He cleared his throat, but despite that still couldn’t find words.

“Medic is part of team,” Heavy stated, matter of fact. “We appreciate. Do not forget that.”

Medic’s eyes fell on a large card, tucked behind the Quick-Fix in the back of the locker so it hadn’t come tumbling out with the rest. This one was unquestionably from Heavy. Medic wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did.

Delicately, he reached out and took it, seeing it was nearly the size of a proper book, made out of two pieces of paper tied with a string. He gently gazed over the words inside, drinking them all in, and then softly spoke, “thank you mein friend.”

“Is no trouble.” Heavy squeezed his shoulder, and Medic could tell his friend was smiling by the chuckle in his voice. “Now! We go. Back to party, doctor should get to show off his cards too.”

“Yes, lets. But ah…not this one though,” Medic finished, softly folding Heavy’s card back up. “This one I will keep here.”

Heavy smiled. “If doctor likes.” With that, Medic followed him back to the party.

[therealmintedmango]

Interview Tag

Tagged By: @joheun-saram! Thank you so much Mars! You are the sweetest! 💕

Rules: Answer questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better!

Name/Nickname: Mango 🥭

Gender: She/Her

Star Sign: Pisces sun & moon// Cancer rising 

Height: 5′3 

Time Currently: 11:08AM

When Is Your Birthday: March 10th

Favorite Band/Groups: BTS, NCT (and all sub-units of group), Monsta X, Seventeen, K/DA (and most artists associated w/ them), BlackPink, KNK, ACE, VAV, Ateez, Stray Kids, SPYAIR, BURNOUT SYNDROMES, Z-Girls, KARD, Panic At The Disco, Fall Out Boy, MCR (RIP), SISTAR (RIP #2), EXID (RIP #3), Caravan Palace, Too Many Zooz, Beach Boys, Astro

Favorite Solo Artist(s): Ariana Grande, Troye Sivan, Lauv, Lana Del Way, Marina and the Diamonds, Lady Gaga, Dua Lipa, Sam Smith, Megan Thee Stallion, Nikki Minaj, MAX, Lizzo, Cher, Doja Cat, Harry Styles, Jhené Aiko, Taemin, Elvis Presley, Dolly Parton, Britney Spears, Joji, Takayan, TOPHAMHAT-KYO, pH-1, Crush, punchnello, jeebanoff, Cosmo Sheldrake, H.E.R., Hippy was Gipsy, offonoff, Plastic Patina, Alina Baraz

Song Stuck In Your Head: Levitating by Dua Lipa ft. DaBaby 

Last Movie You Watched: Soul...and - you guess it - had to question my existence after watching it...

Last Show You Binged: Spinning Out on Netflix for ice skating research // though I didn’t get much from it :( 

When You Created Your (Main) Blog: This year, but I’m unsure of the exact time/month!

Last Thing You Googled: “How old do you have to be to become president?” Because my roommate and I have a deep need for AOC to be president after Biden and we couldn’t remember if it was 35 or 45 you had to be. 

Other Blogs: N/A

Why I Chose My URL: Mangoes are the only thing that matters in this life time lmao not really but I wanted something really catchy and mint is a pretty color (also mint juleps are delicious) so “mintedmango” just makes sense to me!

How Many People Are You Following: 77

How Many Followers Do You Have: 305 (thank you all for being here!! 🥺)

Average Hours Of Sleep: 6-8 hours

Lucky Number: 12

Instruments: Vocals and Alto saxophone that I probably don’t remember how to play...

What I’m Currently Wearing: Black legging and a black sweatshirt that has a crescent moon on the front that says “La Luna”. Oh don’t forget about my fluffy blue “mom” slippers that I wear everywhere because hardwood flooring is cold. 

Dream Job: Doing hair “shows” and educating people on stage. 

Dream Trip: Visiting Japan again and going to Thailand! Iceland? Korea? Poland? Brazil? I want to travel the world!

Favorite Food: Pizza, Ice Cream, Cheesecake, Anything Caramel, Sushi, Thai food....So many things lol

Nationality: American (I’m half Polish and then mixed bag of various other European backgrounds.) 

Favorite Song: So many! But right now I’m obsessed with Suffocate by Hayd.

Top Three Fictional Universes You’d Like To Live In: Harry Potter (I agree with you Mars - I hate JK Rowling but like Harry Potter universe is so cool!), Haikyuu because I just want to cheer on all my husbands, and Runescape because I’m a true nerd now?! (Or Animal Crossing?!) 

Tagging: @justanothergirlfromeurope, @crytaeby, @foxybread, @shadowsremedy, @def-sol, @heoniebaby, @btsaudge, @yoonia, @letfabbri, @xotoosweet, @lilacdreams-00, @roses-ruby, @psycho-slytherin, @chimchimsauce, @nomnomsik, @wwilloww, @haylo4ever, @mygsii, @moononthejoon, @jinpanman (Let me know if ya’ll don’t wish to be tagged! 💖)

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 5 Part 1

Words: 1561

TW: Death, violence, blood CW: vampires, assassins

R:

His blush at her calling him “luv” was quite satisfying. Smirk widened. He was quite cute like that, hmmm, strange feeling there. Maybe this is why Arthur had fun making the ladies blush? 

Her ears were good enough to be able to hear them while she dispatched their enemies. The banter between these two suggested they were rather good friends. Good, that would make the transition easier. Certainly, it would be some time before Cal was able to make friends with the residents at the mansion, given what he had done to her. Arthur would likely be the least forgiving of them all, since he had treated her wounds personally.

<<Yes, I am one. Figured out yet I haven’t exactly aged since you got here?>>

Ah, now there was the answer to a question she had. She had suspected as much but left such things to the proper time.  Good to know she was escorting two vampires rather than a human and newly sired vampire. Next question would be who his sire was, but that would have to wait. 

They made their way through the citadel, she dispatching anyone that stood in their way. Even in the council room, she had worked with surgical speed and accuracy. Now, they stood outside what remained of the assassin’s league. She turned around and listened intently to both of them.

<<You will have my unwavering loyalty for the rest of my life, this I swear.>>

“I thank thee for such an expression of devotion, brave sir knight. Remember though, I am no queen, my domain is but a small part of the world. And to answer your question, I can tell by the way you speak. I remember the courts of old.”

<<So dramatic! But yeah, what he said. Obviously, I don’t have an issue not fighting on the side of the angels, but if there were any such thing, I’d say you come the closest. Avenging angel, maybe.>>

Laughter, this time short and to the point, more like a scoff but without the derision. A somber tone and expression took hold. “You will learn soon enough that I am no angel, I have never deserved such admiration. An angel of death more than an avenging angel, darkness and despair is all that has followed me for hundreds of years. There is a reason that I am called to the battlefield, and it’s not to make the place art worthy. But, if you wish to think of me as such, I cannot stop you.” Gaze met his, eyes wavering, telling tales of old, death, and destruction, of unimaginable loss, all in an instance. 

She uncased her wings, slowly, her eyes glowing for a moment. “Time to go home.” Wings stretched and flapped a few times before she took off, the two of them flying right behind her via her abilities. 

Over the countryside they flew, the small lives of those below unable to be seen but able to be felt as their tiny figures moved about. Over rivers, forests, and ravines they flew still. A good time later a castle came into view, situated on a cliff, its defenses rivaled by few. 

Landing gently in front of two large doors, she glanced back at them both before knocking. Door creaked open to reveal a man dressed as a butler. 

“Ah, M. La Comtesse, glad to see you’ve finally arrived. I have dinner set for our newest gue-” He stopped, there were two men with her, not one. “M. la Comtesse? Two?” A slightly exasperated sigh. “A little warning next time would be nice. Now the dinner service will have to be adjusted. You are also late. Did something happen?”

A chuckle at his sass, something that she had found endearing over the years. “A few unexpected things happened, including bringing our second guest with me. He was in a predicament that I could not ignore.”

“Ah, very good. M. la Comtesse. I shall have a second room arranged immediately. You know, this reminds me of when you brought the Van Gogh brothers here. Are they brothers?”

“Not to my knowledge, though they banter like they are. Suppose you’ll have to ask them when you’re not pretending they aren’t right behind me. Can we move on? The smaller gentleman is in need of rouge.”

“Of course, M. la Comtesse.” It was then that Sebastian figured out that it was Cal who had done the unthinkable to his mistress. Though he hid his displeasure well from her in tone, the look he gave Cal was as cold and furious as a blizzard. “Might I have their names?”

“Oh, sorry… the larger gentleman is named Derrick, the smaller is called Rapscallion, though he also seems to go by Cal.” She stepped past Sebastian to be met by the prying eyes of the castle residents. “Good evening everyone.” She motioned at their new guests, “These two, Derrick and Cal, will be living here from now on. No harm should come to either of them, or you’ll be answering to me personally. Now, can we have a normal dinner, please? It’s been a long day.”

A few more steps into the castle and she faltered. A grunt and she began to fall, only to be caught by Arthur. “Now, luv, what have I said about overexerting yourself?”

“Mmmmm, I don’t need a lecture now….” Her wings went back into her back and she began to breathe heavily. 

Quietly, he spoke to her, “You know, dove, you didn’t need to bring him back here, let alone two. Seems like it may not have been worth the effort.” Arthur shot both men a look, his eyes showing of his vampiric rage. All that left him as he picked her up and carried her off. 

“Apologies gentlemen, introductions of your fellow residents shall have to wait till dinner itself.” Sebastian chimed in, “My name is Sebastian. I am the head of staff here and am the butler that serves M. la Comtesse personally. Now, let’s get you two cleaned up so you are presentable. Can’t have you dressed like that for dinner with everyone.”

He ushered them both to where they could bathe and get their choice of finer clothing. 

……

“What happened out there, luv?” Arthur inquired, his eyes looking over her exhausted figure. 

“I’m not used to having to carry so much weight with my powers for so long. Seems I need to train more. Not used to flying while using my powers either. The battlefield usually doesn’t call for use of my wings. I had been planning on just carrying back one, not two.”

“And why are there two? Who do we need to watch out for…. Who…. who did those horrible things to you?”

“Ask Jean, I’d rather not tell everyone so as to give them a chance to make their own impressions.”

“Ever the mystery with you, luv. What am I ever to do with you, hmm?”

She scoffed, “Suppose you’ll stay with me, as you always have. I’ll be fine Arthur, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Mmmm, the blood on your clothes tell enough of the tale.”

Eyebrows quirked, “Damn, guess I wasn’t as focused as I usually am. Apologies to Sebastian and the staff.”

“Get some rest and change, maybe take a bath. Till dinner then, luv.” With that, Arthur left her alone, all the while hatching a plan to figure out which of the two had tried to kill their beloved Comtesse. 

…...

Having scrubbed all the blood off her, a bath had felt refreshing, especially for her sore wing muscles. Sheesh, that was a long flight. Ah, yes, dinner. Time to look nice and make pleasantries. This was going to be interesting. Never before had she brought anyone to the mansion with as much issue with the other residents. Even Theo, resident tsundere, or Mozart, resident grump had been this much of an issue. She only hoped her warning not to harm them would stick. Didn’t mean they had to accept them, or be nice for that matter. Oy vey this was a mess. 

…...

Heels clicked on the hard floor as she entered the dining room. Starry dress flowed with each movement, it looking like it was the sky just as the sun had decided to finally sleep. Everyone seated now rose to greet her. Sebastian pushed in the chair with her as she sat down, ever the lady of elegance. A soft smile graced her lips as she raised a glass of rouge, “Welcome, Derrick and Cal. Introductions are in order, so I shall go around the table.”

Taking a sip from the glass, she set it down. “Derrick, to your left going ‘round the table we have, William Shakespeare, Vincent Van Gogh, Theo Van Gogh, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Napoleon Bonapart, Isaac Newton, Leonardo da Vinci, Dazai, Jean de Arc, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is to your right Cal. And yes, these are the actual men of their namesakes. I specialize in bringing back people from history to help with current predicaments. Gentlemen, please enjoy dinner. I can now also take any of your questions, as promised before we left that accursed place.”

Glares ‘round the table were at both Cal and Derrick, but no one said anything to them, they all starting to chatter among themselves.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Of Poetry and Valentines

I’ve decided that even though I may not participate in every day of @ineffablehusbandsweek I might as well at least write a story for prompt #1.

1. Valentine’s Day -- (3,400 words)

Chocolate Love-A Cake.

Million Heart Cheesecake.

Mint-To-Be Chocolate Candies.

Some sort of cupcake simply titled Heart of the Batter.

Crowley had been standing in Aziraphale’s favorite bakery for over forty-five minutes. He’d stopped even trying to hold up the queue, which now simply flowed around him

Even the pastries without disgustingly twee names were covered in little frosting hearts and other nonsense. Not to mention all that pink.

“Are you ready to order yet?” asked the girl behind the till, handing yet another customer an absurdly elaborate confection that represented exactly six pounds and thirteen pence worth of I love you.

“Nh,” Crowley said, glancing at the coffee list. The flavors of the month started with Cupid Cappuccino and it went downhill fast from there. “Euh.”

“I’ll give you five more minutes,” she said, with far more chirpy good cheer than was strictly necessary.

--

The streets of Soho had been transformed. Paper hearts and cupids in every window; massive displays of roses, orchids, tulips and lilies spilled out in front of every shop, regardless of what they sold; even the nearest pub was covered in bright pink garlands and little red fairy lights.

Did no one in this district have even an ounce of self-respect?

Crowley stepped up to the Bentley and groaned. Someone had tied a red heart balloon to the wing mirror of every car on the street. Someone else had stuck little pink animal and flower shapes all over the windscreens.

The Bentley now sported a paper rabbit with Some bunny loves you! scrawled across it, as well as a large paper flower reading:

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Here’s a Valentine

Just for you!

He pulled them both off and shredded them to confetti, yet all the tiny pieces still managed to look like little hearts. The balloon he transformed into a pink-and-red football and kicked it as far down the street as he could.

Crowley slammed the door of the Bentley as he climbed in, and angrily shoved one of his favorite Wagner CDs into the player. Of course, what emerged was not the prelude to Das Rheingold but Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”

He slapped the radio off and glared at the dashboard. “Cut that out. I swear to Someone, if you even try and pull that on me today…”

Leaving the threat to hang in the air, he turned the radio back on and skipped to the second song, which was now “March of the Black Queen.”

“Better,” he muttered, and pulled away from the kerb.

--

Aziraphale had never taken to Valentine’s Day, no more than any other saint’s feast day, in any case. He hadn’t commented at all when, almost six centuries ago, it had been co-opted by certain European courts as a day of romance.

Crowley, on the other hand, dove right into it, reveled in it: the poetry, the elaborate tournaments, the sighing tales of courtly love. He was in his element.

After all, a celebration of love might be considered Heavenly, but a day devoted to pageantry and dramatic empty gestures? With an undercurrent of lust masked by a noble myth of pure adoration? That sounded downright demonic.

At least, that’s what he told Head Office. Humans, as always, did ninety percent of the work. Crowley simply observed and dropped a few well-placed suggestions. The poetry got worse, the eloquent love declarations more empty.

By 1800, the exchange of awful verse and sappy greetings in mid-February had become so entrenched in English society that printers had begun to mass-produce cards for the holiday. By 1835, thousands of Valentines – store bought or handmade – were sent through the post every year.

A few more whispered words into the right ears. In 1840, postal rates across the kingdom dropped, and the first postage stamp was introduced. The next February, four hundred thousand Valentines Day cards were mailed all around the country – and, thanks to the changes in the postal system, they could now be sent anonymously.

--

On the thirteenth of February, 1841, an envelope was delivered to A.Z. Fell & Co. Bookshop – there was no sender’s address, no salutation, just a number and street name, hastily scribbled. Inside was a simple piece of white card, covered enthusiastically but inexpertly with white lace; pasted in the center, framed by a heart, was a printed image, a bouquet of red roses and blue forget-me-nots. Below, a bit of gold ribbon surrounded a single word: Devotion.

“I don’t know, Angel,” Crowley grumbled when Aziraphale showed it to him. “Could be anyone. Could be one of your customers. Maybe one of them has a thing for rude shopkeepers.”

“I don’t think so,” Aziraphale said, turning the card over to study the pattern of the lace. “There’s something very familiar about it…”

“Familiar?” Crowley demanded sharply.

“I mean, the sender is being very familiar with the recipient. As if they’d known each other a long time.” He ran his finger across the single word. “Perhaps it was misdirected?”

“Nrg.” Crowley shrugged.

In 1842, another envelope arrived. This one held a pre-printed card, a single flower on a pink-and-gold background. A bright red heart, tucked behind a pink ribbon, carried the message:

Paeonia, symbol of happiness sublime

Wilt thou be my Valentine?

More pre-printed cards followed.

In 1843, two birds built a nest, filled with hearts instead of eggs.

In 1846, a couple strolling through a watercolor landscape under the words Valentine Greetings.

In 1849, a little girl in a white dress with a basket of roses, and the words With True Love.

In 1852, the angels started appearing. The first was surrounded by morning glories and gold filigree. Loving Greeting.

1853 brought back the lace and forget-me-nots, surrounding a winged figure wrapped in lace and gauze and little else. With Love and Devotion.

In 1854, a chubby cupid crossed a serene lake in a white-and-gold boat filled with pink roses; a line of white swans bridled with more roses pulled it along. Love’s Message to my Valentine.

“They’re just pre-printed messages,” Crowley pointed out in 1856. “They don’t mean anything. Whoever sent it probably just picked one that looked nice.”

“Oh, no, there’s real feeling behind it, I’m sure. Look at this.” It was the most elaborate yet: white lace, roses, hearts, a dove delivering a heart-covered envelope to a little angel, white ribbon framing a poem, tied in a perfect bow.

Crowley rolled his whole head in an exaggerated gesture. “Trying way too hard,” was all he said.

“Are you jealous?” Aziraphale asked with a grin.

“Jealous? What, that you get sappy misdirected mail? No, I’m fine without.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, studying first Crowley, then the card. “Sixteen years? Without missing one? Surely it must be intentional.”

“Angel, a million of those are sent every year. There has to be some mistakes in all that.”

“Perhaps you’re right…” His eyes ran across the poem one more time.

May this bow of white

Which gives delight

And which I send to you

A token be

Of love divine

Oh, will’t thou be

My Valentine?

“Truly horrible verse,” Crowley muttered. “Does that even scan?”

1857 saw the return of the hand-made cards. Skillfully cut paper, lace, ribbons, flowers – sometimes painted, sometimes embroidered onto linen. Pre-made pieces, painstakingly glued together with endearing imperfection. The messages were short, but hand-written: To My Star. Valentine Greeting. Love Always.

“They have different handwriting,” Crowley pointed out. “Different senders.”

“I suppose,” Aziraphale conceded. “Unless the sender is disguising their handwriting.”

“Wh-what? Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know. But look – all the ribbons are pasted on exactly the same way.”

Crowley squinted at three different cards. “I don’t see it,” he said flatly. “I think it’s your imagination. Do you want a secret admirer?”

“No,” Aziraphale started slowly, glancing at Crowley from the corner of his eyes. “No, on the whole I’d rather have an admirer I knew.”

“Mh. Why do you keep those, anyway?”

“Oh, I love a mystery.” Aziraphale felt the grin slide across his face. “Anonymous cards, mailed to my shop every Valentines Day for almost twenty years? Simply irresistible, wouldn’t you say?”

Crowley, apparently, had nothing at all to say.

In 1862, the poetry returned, pre-printed again but at least somewhat better verse. Around a watercolor that was possibly meant to depict Romeo and Juliet:

I may wander over land and sea

Pass many days away from thee

Yet my heart can never rove

From thee, my own, my love.

Aziraphale professed it was his favorite yet, but Crowley only scowled.

--

The greatest shock was the card that arrived in 1864.

Aziraphale had not expected anything that year. The envelope sat in his hands, as simple and anonymous as all the others. Inside, a heart-shaped card framing an almost embarrassingly cute cat.

This little kitten,

Valentine,

Has come to ask you

To be mine.

He suddenly realized he had made a grave miscalculation. If these cards were still arriving after…after certain recent developments…that could only mean…

Well. At least Crowley was no longer around to realize what a foolish conclusion he’d jumped to.

Another print arrived in 1865, a young lady holding a tulip to her nose.

Oh! Would I were the flower that sips

The honied kisses from your lips.

My Darling Valentine.

The card tumbled from his trembling fingers.

Why? Why did he even bother opening it? Why did he keep them even now?

Aziraphale grabbed all twenty-five Valentine’s Day cards and thrust them into a box. He found a spot on the highest shelf of the bookcase furthest from the door, tucked the box into a corner so gloomy even he could barely spot it. He was absolutely determined to forget any cards had ever arrived.

The envelope that arrived in 1866 was tucked, unopened, into a thick volume of Greek philosophy and pushed back onto a dusty shelf. Aziraphale swore no matter how many more arrived, he would never look.

But, as if a spell were broken, no more Valentines were delivered after that. And the last one remained unopened for over seventy-five years.

Until, two nights after a certain incident in a church, he found it again, hands shaking from the exertion of the search, from the unnamed emotions racing through him.

The card inside was gold and silver lace, simple yet elegant in a way he hadn’t remembered the others being. There was an earnest charm to the way the edges didn’t quite line up to the white paper underneath. In the center, a printed poem, surrounded by hand-painted flowers in more varieties than Aziraphale could name.

Valentine –

Fain would I guard thee through life’s desert drear

And fling around thee love to soothe and cheer

For thee I live might I but call thee mine

I’d be forever thy own Valentine.

He didn’t know how it was possible, but only one being in all Creation would send such a poem.

Aziraphale sat down on the floor of his shop. The tears he’d been holding in for two days finally began to fall.

--

After Crowley woke from his extended nap, he was disgusted to find how the holiday had spiraled out of control, how it only grew worse with every passing decade. Chocolates. Jewelry. Mass-market commercialization. It became a million-pound industry, and eventually a billion-pound one. Where once hopeful lovers could send a chintzy greeting card for a few pennies, the fools now spent a week’s pay – or more – on useless trinkets, somehow convinced it would ensure a return of affection.

And the engagements! The diamond rings, the elaborate proposals.

It was an absolute mockery of the cheap, empty exchange of sentiments he had spent so long cultivating. Was nothing sacred?

He was sure the Americans were to blame.

And yet now, when the holiday was devoid even of the anti-meaning Crowley had worked so hard to endow it with, now Aziraphale took notice? Now he began decorating his shop with angels even more absurd than the ones he usually collected? Now he put vases full of dried flowers on every table – roses and carnations and tulips in pink and red and white?

Every year, the traditions grew worse, yet Aziraphale only embraced the holiday more.

--

The Apocalypse had come and gone. The world had changed. For eight months they’d stood on the cusp of…something.

It was absurd. They each knew how the other felt – there was no denying it at this point – but somehow, after six thousand years, Crowley suddenly couldn’t find a way to say the words. Now it was Aziraphale waiting patiently on him, and if that wasn’t embarrassing, he didn’t know what was.

He just needed the right time. He’d hoped Valentine’s Day could be it.

But here it was, the fourteenth of February, and all Crowley felt was fed up. He couldn’t bring himself to buy the overpriced flowers, the punfully-named treats, even a racy gag gift (of which there was never any shortage in Soho). It just felt…empty.

He walked into the bookshop and prepared to disappoint his angel.

--

Aziraphale had set up a garland of sorts, too, but not paper flowers or bright red crepe paper. Across the two pillars nearest the door – where no one entering the shop could miss them, let alone Crowley – hanging from a string, were twenty-six Victorian Valentine’s Day cards.

Some were handmade – clumsy and uneven. Some were pre-printed – cheap, mass-produced. All were just a little tacky, but in the light of the shop, they seemed to glow with love.

“Ah! You’re here.” Aziraphale emerged with a pile of 19th-century romance novels, which he proceeded to arrange on the front table, to more easily chase customers away from them. “How do you like my decorating?”

“Oh. Uh. You. You kept those.”

“Naturally.” He didn’t even turn away from his task. “They were sent by someone very important to me.”

Crowley gulped. “You worked that out, then?”

“Yes, dear, in 1843.” Aziraphale chuckled, standing a copy of Wuthering Heights on the top of his display.

“Uh…Nh…” Crowley felt his face getting very warm. “You could have said –”

“I assumed, at the time, this was the beginning of some very elaborate prank on your part, and I was curious to see where it might go.”

“You – you said it was a mystery!”

“Yes, that was me playing along.” Satisfied with his display, Aziraphale turned back. “Now, if we’re finally going to talk about this, I do have a question.”

Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet. No avoiding this, it seemed. “Fine. Right. I wanted to tell you how I felt, but it was…it was too much. Too big.” He looked at the ceiling as he talked, the walls, anywhere but at the angel who was now watching him with rapt attention. “You’d just reject it, and I didn’t want that kind of…y’know. So I just – I devalued what it means to say…that…on Valentine’s Day. Made it cheap and easy and meaningless so that when I told you, maybe it wouldn’t seem so big. Maybe you’d be able to accept it. Or at least maybe the rejection wouldn’t hurt as much.”

Soft footsteps across the floorboards, and Aziraphale’s hand on his cheek, drawing his face back down to meet that blue gaze.

“I know. I worked that out, oh, seventy years ago.”

“You what?”

“Once I understood how you felt, well, it seemed rather obvious. I also know why it never worked.”

Crowley hadn’t felt this completely lost since the night the world had almost ended. He reached up and grasped Aziraphale’s hand for balance. “Please…enlighten me.”

“Crowley, dear. A meaningless bit of frippery bought for a few pennies? A quiet I love you disguised as a joke? That’s not who you are. You need a big, grand show of affection, a blazing banner across the sky, or it won’t ever feel real to you. So even when I told you I liked the cards, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. The holiday was all wrong.”

“Thanks,” Crowley grumbled.

“Well, I was going to say something when you next sent me a card, only you never did. And so I, well, I decided to encourage the humans to, as you say, ‘go bigger.’ I thought you wouldn’t be able to resist a culture of grand romantic gestures. Only I’m not very subtle and it got rather out of hand.”

Behind his glasses, Crowley blinked.

“So…all – all that,” Crowley waved a hand at the window. “All that was you?”

“Oh, yes.” He smiled apologetically, though the bastard had probably never been sorry a day in his life. “The holiday generally, and also more specifically the state of Soho just now. I’ve been rather giddy lately and it seems to have gone contagious.”

Crowley thought of everything the day had come to mean – the heart-shaped sweets, the over-the-top dinners, flowers that cost as much as an outfit, jewelry that cost as much as a car. Piles of gifts of every description, sky-diving marriage proposals, holiday getaways to Paris or Florence or tiny cottages in snow-filled forests.

“Aziraphale,” he laughed, found he couldn’t stop laughing. “Angel! You…you made a whole holiday of big, stupid, over-the-top romantic gestures for me?”

“Only because you started it.” He slipped his arms around Crowley’s neck, pulling them together, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s hips, pressing their bodies close. The words he wanted to say danced on the edge of his tongue, waiting for the right moment.  Not yet, not yet. Instead he asked, “Didn’t you have a question?”

“Ah, yes. How did you do it?” Aziraphale pulled back enough to look up at his eyes. “The last three cards arrived while you were asleep.”

“Oh! That’s easy enough.” His hands found their way into Aziraphale’s and, without anyone needing to suggest it out loud, they walked together to the back room and the well-worn sofa, where a bottle of wine waited for them. “I didn’t want to lose my nerve, so I would buy and send the cards five at a time. I gave the post office instructions to mail them one per year. I told myself each time, ‘After the last card, I’ll say it out loud.’ But, well, I always wound up buying more cards.”

Aziaphale froze two steps away from the sofa. “Are you saying you haven’t bought me a Valentine since 1861? This is outrageous.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, flinging himself down and pulling Aziraphale after him. “Have you seen what passes for romantic verse these days? Pathetic. I’m not going to pay…five pounds or whatever it is for that nonsense.”

“Mmm.” Aziraphale shifted to lean against him, flashing another bastard smile. “I suppose the card selection has been disappointing lately. Still, an angel likes a little poetry now and again.”

“Poetry, is it?” Crowley pulled off his glasses and tossed them aside so he could meet that breathtaking blue gaze straight on. Caught one of Aziraphale’s hands and held it to his chest.

Women have loved before as I love now;

At least, in lively chronicles of the past –

Of Irish waters by a Cornish prow

Or Trojan waters by a Spartan mast

Much to their cost invaded – here and there,

Hunting the amorous line, skimming the rest,

I find some woman bearing as I bear

Love like a burning city in the breast.

I think however that of all alive

I only in such utter, ancient way

Do suffer love; in me alone survive

The unregenerate passions of a day

When treacherous queens, with death upon the tread,

Heedless and willful, took their knights to bed.

“Oh,” Aziraphale murmured. “Well, that’s hardly appropriate for a card.”

Crowley tried to raise Aziraphale’s hand to his lips, but discovered he was shaking too much. “It’s – You’re probably right. But it’s how I’ve felt. For a very long time.”

Aziraphale pulled his hand back, then leaned in to softly brush his lips against Crowley’s. Hesitant. Shy. But when he finished, he didn’t pull back. Crowley could feel the trembling of Aziraphale’s breath, mirroring his own.

“I love you, too,” his angel whispered. “I hope you know that.”

-- end --

Inspired by the pastries at my local bakery, and by a conversation with @angel-and-serpent 

All the Victorian Valentines described are actual cards (I tried to do all vintage, but some may have been replicas/modern cards in “Victorian” style), slightly altered to be easier to describe. I also changed a word or two where the poetry was especially bad.

The final poem is by Edna St. Vincent Millay. I’ve said many times I default write the Husbands as asexual, but then Crowley goes and picks one of the sexy sonnets, so I guess interpret where things go from there as you see fit. (I’m ace myself and not going to try and deny the power of Millay’s sexy sonnets. Look at that thing. I become 5% more allo and 8% gayer every time I read it.)

[wondersofdreaming]

Because I love you

Characters: August Walker x Witch!female character

Word count: 1.611

Warnings: Cursing. Magic. Time travel. Ancient languages.

Author’s note: This is for @littlefreya​

Everything in this short story is a figment of my imagination, with inspiration and snippets from the movie ‘Mission: Impossible - Fallout’ from 2018, and some inspiration from the TV-show ‘The Originals’. This is pure fanfiction! Nothing is supposed to make sense. The Latin and Ancient Greek used in this drabble are my own translations, if it’s not correct, let me know and I will edit it.

I do not own any of the characters in this short story besides the reader, who is a figment of my imagination.

Dictionary: Evocatio Saturnum (Latin) - I call forth Saturn

κᾰλέω Κρόνον (Ancient Greek) - I summon Kronos

Mihi alas da (Latin, ‘da’ is the imperative of ‘do’) - Give (to) me wings

Laxa (Latin, ‘laxa’ is the imperative of ‘laxo’) - Open/Release

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

Tag: @littlefreya 

Everything was prepped and ready. The circle on the floor had been drawn with salt. Your coven had told you not to do the spell that you were putting your own life in danger, just for a man. A man you loved more than anything. Nothing was going to stop you. And you were the damn head of that fucking coven, they had to obey your orders no matter what.

You had researched the different spells to get him back. Awakening spells, how to bring someone dead back to life, how to summon their soul into someone else’s body - there was always a consequence. Magic always had a price. If you brought him back from the dead, you needed to sacrifice yourself in the making. You had contemplated that a few times, better have him alive than you, but then you knew he would be furious. He would find a way to bring you back to life, only to punish you so bad, not that you would be complaining.

No, you finally found a way. Your witch ancestors were behind you, even though they had given voice to their concerns, but they prayed that your plan would work. You had put it to work months ago, by having found the Fountain of Youth, which was where you were now, setting your masterplan in motion.

You sat down in the middle of the circle, cross-legged. With a flick of your wrist, you lit all the candles that filled the cave. You started the incantation to borrow power from your coven, from the dead in the graveyard, and from your witch ancestors. You felt the energy surge into you. The room shaking from the power surge.

“Evocatio Saturnum, κᾰλέω Κρόνον, I summon thee, God of Time. I sacrifice the fountain of immortal life. Come forth and lend me your power!”

You opened your eyes. The power from your coven and ancestors fell away. Nothing. The God of Time was nowhere to be found.

“FUCK!” You screamed.

Before you could get up and figure out what you did wrong, a strong wind went through the cave and blew out all the candles. A blue light appeared in front of you. The candles were re-lit, now with a blue fire instead of the soft orange glow from before.

A massive man stood before you. He had silver hair and a beard to match. His eyes, the colour of steel, bore into yours with curiosity. He wore a deep burgundy three-piece suit. He held out a hand to help you up.

“Nobody has been able to summon me in aeons.” He whispered into your ear.

“Good for me then.” You mumbled, accepting his hand and stood before him. He was towering over your smaller form. He had an intimidating height, and those eyes were sucking out all your courage.

“Now, my dear, how can I help you?” He walked out of the circle and looked at his mirror image in the fountain.

“I need a portal to right before my beloved was killed.” You answered confidently. His back went rigid.

“You are playing with time in a way that will disrupt the timeline. If you bring him back to this time, his future, you could bring doom to your people, your coven, your ancestors.”

“I will sacrifice anything to be able to hold my beloved. Besides, aren’t you the God of Time? Aren’t you supposed to protect the timeline?”

“By helping you bring chaos to it?”

“You let one of your children create this fountain! You do not have a choice in this, Saturn, Kronos, Father Time, whatever it is that you call yourself. I offer you the fountain, to correct a mistake you made, when you let your child create this. I will even help you eradicate all immortal beings from this earth to preserve the timeline from now on.”

That got his attention. He turned around and let out a low grumble.

“I could take your life and give your years to someone more deserving.” He growled.

“If I die, my ancestors and coven will protect this place from you. They will move it across the universe, to someplace where you will never be able to find it.” You hissed.

He massaged his temples. Even gods could get headaches.

“Fine. But I want to see you destroy this first, and your help in destroying immortal creatures. Demi-gods excluded.”

“Deal.”

You moved towards the fountain and poured in a red liquid. It was a concoction you had created only for the Fountain of Youth, having been studying it ever since you found it. The water started boiling. It kept steaming until all the water was gone. It left a deep hole in the ground; you couldn’t even see or sense the bottom.

“Now, dear. Shall we?” He asked and held out his hand. You nodded and took it.

You had closed your eyes. Nauseated you opened them. You stood next to the God of Time on a small ledge into the side of a mountain. You clung to the cold hard rock behind you, not wanting to fall into your death.

“In exactly one minute, a helicopter will fall into the opening on your left. You will have five minutes to touch him before I transport us back to your time.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to reach him?”

“Use your brilliant mind, dear. You found a way to summon me, now use your brain to get to your beloved before time runs out and ruins his pretty little face.”

A loud crash pulled you away from the anger welling up inside you, anger towards the obnoxious time-god. You searched the mountainside for smaller ledges to set your feet and hands. You took deep breaths to calm yourself. Then you remembered a spell your grandmother had taught you.

“Mihi alas da!” You whispered. Huge white wings sprouted from your back. You flew over to the crashed helicopter. There he was. Your beloved. How you had missed him. His face was contorted in concentration, trying to take off the seatbelt that had gotten stuck.

“Laxa!” You mumbled loudly, which unhooked the seatbelt. He turned to see you in the opening of the broken helicopter. His eyes softened. You grabbed his outstretched arm and yanked him away from the burning liquid that would have hit him in the face.

“What are you doing here?” He whispered into your hair. “You are supposed to be locked in with your coven for the cleansing spell.”

“I am. At least in this time, I am.” You told him. He watched you with confusion. “I summoned the God of Time to help me save you.”

“Save me? Save me from what?”

“Death. You will die if you don’t come with me, right this moment.”

“Do you have so little faith in me?” He chuckled, thinking you were joking.

“If you don’t believe me, be my guest and continue on in this timeline. When we meet in hell, the first thing you will hear from me is ‘I told you so’.”

He grumbled something you couldn’t hear, but he took your hand. You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tight and inhaled the scent that was purely him.

“Let’s go home.” He whispered into your hair. You flew him towards the God of Time, who was standing on the ledge with an amused smile.

“30 seconds to spare.” The bearded God grinned at you. You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hands. He transported you back to the future, back to the cave on top of Mount Everest.

“Well, my dear, thank you for this little adventure. Here is a book of the immortals you need to destroy, and it also says how to find them, how to kill them etc. etc. etc. Good luck, darling, and please don’t disrupt time again.” The God smiled and with a flick of his fingers, blue flames surrounded his body, and he was gone in an instant.

“What year is this?” Your beloved asked.

“It’s 2020. You’ve been dead for two years.”

He went to sit down on the bed you had summoned to sleep on all these months. He hid his face in his hands, elbows on his knees.

“What did you have to do to bring me back?” He asked.

“Oh, nothing much. Just forced my coven and ancestors to help me, destroyed the fountain of youth, promised to kill all immortal beings that are left on this planet.” You said nervously and with a small chuckle at the end.

He stood from the bed. The air around him trembled. You felt his lingering gaze. His arms pulling you into his broad chest. His hand lifted your chin, so you were forced to look into his blue eyes.

“If that is your mission, then I will help you.” He grumbled.

“Good. I could use your skills, some of these creatures are pretty hard to get rid of. Now, if you don’t mind. I’ve missed you terribly, and I really need you to kiss me, so that I know you are real. Please.”

“Anything for you, princess.”

Your lips crashed in a hungry kiss. His tongue was dominating yours. Your moans filled the quiet cave. The energy between you was electrifying. It felt so right to be back in his arms. To kiss him, to have him kiss you senseless. You didn’t have to sleep alone anymore. You didn’t have to wake up multiple times at night without him anymore. Your nightmares would finally subside.

“Don’t you dare die on me again.” You murmured.

“I promise.”

“Because I love you, August Walker.”

[youngboy-oldmind]

2019 Remake of “Forever”

In 2009, the world was blessed with one of the most epic collaborations in the modern hip hop era. “Forever” from Lebron James’ Film More Than a Game featured four of the most popular artists of the 21st century: Drake, Kanye West, Lil Wayne, and Eminem. This quartet’s solid verses combined with an iconic Drake hook created a classic in hip hop industry.

11 years later, I’m listening to this track in my car and wondered, could this be done today?

I’m going to create my dream team of collaborative artists that could create a record as iconic as this. I’ll swap out an artist in this song for someone new. Discuss people who didn’t quite make the cut. Talk about strengths and weaknesses. And see if a remake would stand up to the original.

Could a quartet of top hip hop artists of the past 5ish years collaborate on remake if Forever?

I guess we’ll find out...

Drake -> Drake

Drake’s mainstream success started in 2009. Since then he has been consistently praised and critically acclaimed. This pop/hip-hip superstar would remain as the first verse and the chorus. I may not be a fan of some of his more recent albums but there’s do denying his mainstream appeal and success. I don’t see who could replace Drake.

Kanye West -> Pusha-T

Pusha-T and Kanye West have had plenty of collaborations. He would be a great new school addition to this track. His slick delivery, lyricism, and stature in the hip hop community earns this spot. 

Lil Wayne -> Big Sean

This is an easy switch for me. Big Sean is known for his clever wordplay and smooth delivery. And he never hesitates to brag about himself or his status. Toe to toe, I think Lil Wayne’s discography and skills are stronger than Sean’s. However, Big Sean would carry his weight on a track like this.

Eminem -> Kendrick Lamar

Kendrick definitely would be on this avengers-style collaboration. His abilities on tracks like��F***n Problems”, “m.a.a.d City”, “Blacker the Berry”, etc. all show he’s displayed talent that would fit. Kendrick Lamar’s versatility and eliteness with a pen would be an excellent final verse to this track.

Honorable Mentions

J. Cole

I struggled with leaving J. Cole out. But lately Cole doesn’t create music with tones like this. As he’s gotten older, he’s become more mellow and mature. But tracks from his early discography Cole World: The Sideline Story and Born Sinner, along with his single “Middle Child”, prove he may hold his own on a grand beat like this. He’s not as narcissistic or braggy as Kanye, which on a track like this may end up a weakness.

Nicki Minaj

I really wanted Minaj to replace Lil Wayne. The only reason Big Sean triumphed over Nicki Minaj is because of where each artists stood in 2019. Big Sean was off of three great records by 2019: Dark Sky Paradise, I Decided, and Double or Nothing. And he released Detroit 2 a year later. Meanwhile, Minaj released Queen in 2018 which wasn’t as recognized and critical acclaimed as Big Sean’s release. And before that, her previous release was The Pinkprint in 2014. She wouldn’t be the best replacement because I think she was beyond her peak by 2019.

NF

NF isn’t anywhere close to Eminem in skill, lyricism, or talent. But people have done side by side comparisons since NF first emerged. NF has familiarity with grand instrumentals and delivering an aggressive flow Eminem utilized back in 2008-2012. I think NF could be a good addition to this song if he possessed a stronger pen game. Everything on the surface fits, but he has a pattern of unimaginative, bland lyrics.

Other artists I considered: Royce Da 5′9, Megan Thee Stallion, Lil Baby, Joyner Lucas, A$AP Rocky, 2Chainz, Jay Rock

Side By Side Comparison

Old Drake > New Drake

Many of Drake’s hits of the late 2000s early 2010s are still known to this day. Early Gen-Z and Millenials alike rock to “Best I Ever Had”, “Successful”, “Headlines”, “Over”, the list is extensive. While Drake has many hits today, I hesitate to say his new hits will carry the same weight as new hits. Plus, he didn’t have the assistance of Tik Tok and the explosion of streaming services during the beginning of his success with So Far Gone and Thank Me Later. New Drake is greatly boosted by social media and streaming.

Kanye West < Pusha-T

Depending on the song, Kanye may out perform Pusha-T. But as a consistent artist, Pusha-T is the better rapper. Kanye had a few good lines on this track, but I think Push could do better.

Lil Wayne < Big Sean

Don’t get me wrong, in terms of career stats, I believe Lil Wayne is better than Big Sean. But 2009 hosted Lil Wayne’s lackluster project Rebirth, who’s high point on the project was an Eminem feature. I think if we’re comparing 2009 Lil Wayne to 2019 Big Sean, Sean takes the crown.

Eminem < Kendrick Lamar

Kendrick Lamar in nearly every way is better than Eminem. Kendrick doesn’t have the longevity to match Eminem. However, the only project Eminem has that’s better than any Kendrick Lamar project is The Eminem Show. Although Kendrick infamously hasn’t released an album since 2017, Eminem released Relapse in 2009, a painfully bad record. Kendrick is better than Eminem in general, but 2019 Kendrick is especially better than 2009 Eminem. And yes Eminem’s verse is amazing on this track I think he could outperform Eminem.

Final Verdict: Team 2019- Forever ft. Drake, Pusha-T, Big Sean, and Kendrick Lamar

[hello-robin-goodfellow]

A Touch of Kindness (A Mystery and Imagination: Frankenstein Fanfiction)

@superkingofpriderock @princesssarisa @hmmm-what-am-i-doing @mademoiselle-princesse @ardenrosegarden @amalthea9 @teashadephoenix @anne-white-star

(This is an experiment. Months ago, i watched an episode of the 1960s anthology series Mystery and Imagination, adapting the novel Frankenstein and staring the late Sir Ian Holm in the roles of both Doctor Frankenstein and The Creature/Monster. As always, the Creature’s suffering broke my hearth, so i had the idea of how things could turn different in his life if someone looked beyond his appearance, showed him some kindness and even loved him. So my self-insert OC, Olívia, was born. Here is a short story of how they could have met for the first time. Maybe i make a continuation, maybe not. I hope you enjoy, and i will enjoy receiving some feedback to improve my writing).

Sun rising...

Smell of freshly backed bread.

-Oranges!

-Dates!

-Hot chestnuts!

Sanged the marketers.

This was how the morning always started for Olívia.

She loved walking trough the village on her way to the woods, listening to the jolly sounds, feeling the fresh smells, seeing the colors of the flowers and the clothes that were put to dry outside, under the sun light.

-Good morning, Mademoiselle Olívia.

The baker greeted her.

-Good morning, Monsieur Mathieu. How is your mother feeling?

-Oh, she thanks the heavens. Her pain is diminishing.

-That’s good to hear. Tell her i am coming to see her later.

-I will, Mademoiselle. Thank you very much.

Olívia kept walking, until she finally arrived at her destine: the valley with the beehive trees.

There, she started to pick the pieces of honeycomb inside the trunks. She always did it delicatly and slowly, so the bees wouldn’t be scared and try to prick her.

When Olívia have filled four pots with enough honeycombs, she putted them in the basket and walked on her way home.

While Olívia walked, she sanged:

-In yonder castel

On yonder hill

A brave young man is carrying

Listen to me while i tell to thee

His heroic deeds are daring

He vowed to love a maid so fair

To win her troat he is binded

He must win the right to be dubbed a night

And they can be reunited

Ah di doo ah di doo dah day, Ah di doo ah de da-a-why A sword very long And a heart very strong, That win the love of the lady.

With those merry ways she walked, until she heared something.

It sounded like a moaning of pain.

Olívia stopped to look aroung, and saw some hawthorn bushes moving. She camed close to the bushes, to see if there was someone behind them.

And there it was.

-Hot water!

Screamed a very concerned Olívia, carrying an unconscious man inside the house where she lived with her parents, Raymond and Evangeline, who was the one to answer:

-Oh my God! Poor man.

Evangeline and Raimond helped Olívia carry the unconscious man to their bedroom, where he was layed over the couple’s bed.

Evangeline runned away to get the hot water, while Raymond asked:

-Who is this man? And what happened to him?

-I don’t know, father.

Answered Olívia.

-I was picking the honey in the woods like i always do, and found him unconscious and trapped on hawthorn bushes.

-He must have been atacked by thieves.

Tought Raymond.

-Here is the hot water.

Sayed Evangeline, arryving.

-Thank you, mother.

Answered Olívia.

-I will clean his wounds now.

-Alright dear, we will be at the room. And soon i will bring some warm milk.

Evangeline and Raymond leaved, while Olívia started to clean the bleeding woods made by the hawthorns bushes, wetting a cloth on the hot water.

While she was cleaning, Olívia analised the man in front of her, who was aesleep on her parents bed.

His skin was of a pale yellow, wich made her concerned he could be with pneumonia.

He had several sewed wounds, some covered by bandages. Those wounds needed to be cleaned and sewed again, because they were at risk of gangrening.

So after cleaning the more superficial wounds, Olívia tooked away the bandages that covered the more deep wounds. She would exchange them for more cleaner bandages on the next morning.

Them, she started to clean the dirt on them.

After she finished, the man started to blink.

-Where... am... i?

He asked, slowly and a dizzy.

-You are on my family’s house. I found you in the woods. My name is Olívia.

-Olívia...

He murmured, giving a half smile.

-My mother will soon bring some warm milk with honey for you. We will talk more tomorrow, when you start to feel better. For now, rest your throat.

Evangeline arrived with the cup of warm milk and honey and, turning her head, Olívia sayed to her:

-I am of to see Monsieur Mathieu’s mother, now. Can you please keep your eye on him?

-Of course dear.

Answered Evangeline.

-Now go, and fear not.

Here is the link to watch the Mystery and Imagination: Frankenstein episode on Youtube (it is packaged along with another episode called Uncle Silas):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lG3b1o9jzeo

And here is the song that Olívia was singing in the woods:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=696tg5gX8_E