#I went all day thinking about pomegranates

[canisalbus]

Machete and Vasco are so pomegranate-and-the-hand-that-slices coded. To me.

Pomegranates are seen as messy, bloody, inconvenient fruits. You slice or tear or bite and in return for your effort you come away underwhelmed, disgusted, and stained too deep to wash. The consumption of a pomegranate is a violent act of defilement, for both the fruit and the eater.

But that is because most do not understand how to open a pomegranate. They have little patience for the precise carving. They see no point in coreing the fruit gently, no reason to be reverent as they pull the quarters apart. When done correctly, opening a pomegranate leaves little mess. Your fingers will still stain, your knife will still slick, but there will be no pool of crimson drowning both you and the fruit.

The seeds are only sweet to those who understand the merit of a light hand and intricate slicing. Why put in so much effort for a food so bitter and clearly armored against consumption? Surely it must not yearn to be eaten.

(^insane about silly catholic dogs)

.

[jackoshadows]

Firstly, why is it that Sansa can only be praised by comparing her to Arya? Secondly, in what world is Arya physically strong and more than Sansa?!

The masculinization of Arya Stark by tradfems in fandom has become so commonplace that I suppose many of them imagine this is how Arya and Sansa are in the books:

In case folks don't know this: ARYA IS TWO YEARS YOUNGER THAN SANSA! She's the younger sibling!

Anyone who has read a Jon POV chapter should know that Arya is a skinny, little girl. Jon specifically makes a small, lightweight, thin sword for Arya to handle.

And Arya … he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. - Jon, AGoT

Arya has been on the run for two years, hunted by Lannister men, a slave put to hard physical work and starved for food.

She spent the rest of that day scrubbing steps inside the Wailing Tower. By evenfall her hands were raw and bleeding and her arms so sore they trembled when she lugged the pail back to the cellar. Too tired even for food, Arya begged Weese's pardons and crawled into her straw to sleep. - Arya, ACoK

Often as not, she went to bed hungry rather than risk the stares. - Arya, AGoT

"Lommy's hungry," Hot Pie whined, "and I am too." "We're all hungry," said Arya. - Arya, ACoK

Arya watched them die and did nothing. What good did it do you to be brave? One of the women picked for questioning had tried to be brave, but she had died screaming like all the rest. There were no brave people on that march, only scared and hungry ones. - Ary, ACoK

I knew we should never have left the woods, she thought. They'd been so hungry, though, and the garden had been too much a temptation. - Arya, ASoS

"An inn?" The thought of hot food made Arya's belly rumble, but she didn't trust this Tom. - Arya, ASoS

Rabbits ran faster than cats, but they couldn't climb trees half so well. She whacked it with her stick and grabbed it by its ears, and Yoren stewed it with some mushrooms and wild onions. Arya was given a whole leg, since it was her rabbit. She shared it with Gendry. - Arya, ASoS

The biggest toms would seldom win, she noticed; oft as not, the prize went to some smaller, quicker animal, thin and mean and hungry. Like me, she told herself. - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

We have the contrast of Arya having to trade some carrots and cabbages they picked from an overgrown garden to get some food and the innkeeper complaining about the lack of lemons to the sumptuous 64 dish feast in the Vale with a 12 feet tall lemon cake made especially for Sansa.

Anguy shuffled his feet. "We were thinking we might eat it, Sharna. With lemons. If you had some." "Lemons. And where would we get lemons? Does this look like Dorne to you, you freckled fool? Why don't you hop out back to the lemon trees and pick us a bushel, and some nice olives and pomegranates too." She shook a finger at him. "Now, I suppose I could cook it with Lem's cloak, if you like, but not till it's hung for a few days. You'll eat rabbit, or you won't eat. Roast rabbit on a spit would be quickest, if you've got a hunger. Or might be you'd like it stewed, with ale and onions." Arya could almost taste the rabbit. "We have no coin, but we brought some carrots and cabbages we could trade you." - Arya, ASoS

Sixty-four dishes were served, in honor of the sixty-four competitors who had come so far to contest for silver wings before their lord. From the rivers and the lakes came pike and trout and salmon, from the seas crabs and cod and herring. Ducks there were, and capons, peacocks in their plumage and swans in almond milk. Suckling pigs were served up crackling with apples in their mouths, and three huge aurochs were roasted whole above firepits in the castle yard, since they were too big to get through the kitchen doors. Loaves of hot bread filled the trestle tables in Lord Nestor’s hall, and massive wheels of cheese were brought up from the vaults. The butter was fresh-churned, and there were leeks and carrots, roasted onions, beets, turnips, parsnips. And best of all, Lord Nestor’s cooks prepared a splendid subtlety, a lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance, twelve feet tall and adorned with an Eyrie made of sugar. For me, Alayne thought, as they wheeled it out. Sweetrobin loved lemon cakes too, but only after she told him that they were her favorites. The cake had required every lemon in the Vale, but Petyr had promised that he would send to Dorne for more. - Alayne, TWoW

Arya was already a little, skinny girl smaller than Sansa when they left Winterfell. She has been worked to the bone, sleeping rough and gone hungry. Again, by what logic is this Arya supposed to be physically strong and more than Sansa?!

There is this idea that's often pushed where Sansa is some dainty, fragile princess while Arya is this strong executioner henchwoman and it's just so tiresome and toxic.

Arya is also not Brienne! They are two different characters. If you want physically strong warrior types to compare to Sansa, there is already Brienne. Arya is the smaller, younger sister. In canon and logically, it's the taller, bigger, elder sister with access to good, rich food who would be physically stronger.

The Stark looking Starks tend to be slender and quicker compared to the bigger, stronger Tully looking Starks.

He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast. - Bran, AGoT

The biggest toms would seldom win, she noticed; oft as not, the prize went to some smaller, quicker animal, thin and mean and hungry. Like me, she told herself. - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

"Can't you guess?" Jon teased. "Your very favorite thing." Arya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her. She was that quick. They said it together: "Needle!" - Jon, AGoT

Arya was always quick and clever, but in the end she's just a little girl, and Roose Bolton is not the sort who would be careless with a prize of such great worth. - Jon, ADwD

This is one of the reasons for why Jon Snow is so protective of Arya Stark - he certainly doesn't see her as some physically strong warrior type, despite gifting her with a sword. He's scared for her because he knows that despite how clever she is, Ramsay can kill, rape and torture her - she's 'just a little girl'.

Arya deserves to be protected, same as Sansa. She is not there to be anyone's henchwoman, she does not have super strength and she is certainly not physically stronger than Sansa.

[reds-skull]

CW FLASHING IN THE VIDEO (3rd from the bottom)

This is it. 3 months in the works, the comic (and video) are finally done.

A little over a year ago, I uploaded the first work in Revenant AU, Ghost's origin comic. I never thought I'd write a whole series for this, but I'm so glad I did. I got a whole new hobby out of it, haha.

I already began working on part 2, but this for me marks the start of it. I'm really excited to get back into this world!

Under the cut there are some comments on the comic I thought some people might be interested in (don't wanna make this post longer than it already is lol). I will upload the frames from the video separately, with comments on it there.

Bottom line is, thank you for letting me just go wild with this :)

Okay, I'm mostly gonna talk about the part where Fate shows Makarov the 141+Farah. Makarov doesn't see the Fate of people as literal images, he often has to interpret odd symbolism in the flashes he gets from the Weave of Fate.

I decided to go for a style I saw in a collection of calling cards in MW3, mainly from this one:

You can really see it in the faces and pitch-black cel shading.

I'll be going in order of appearance, starting with Farah.

Obviously, each of the "flashes" shows the Reaping of each person, Farah being crushed under rubble. Behind her is a helo of green gas, which symbolizes the Russian experimental gas. The motifs around her are more interesting imo - they're taken from the Urzik flag (and yeah apparently it's "Urzik" and not "Urzikstani"... according to the wiki at least). Wings, plants (feels to me like a pomegranate and some sort of crop, but I couldn't find what it is specifically), and a moon, upside down.

I'm skipping ahead a bit, but I've had the idea to make a drawing of Gaz in the Hanged Man pose since I started the AU basically. I tried sketching it once, and it went bad so I gave up lol. But I decided to come back to that here, and add some sort of tarot connection to all of them. I know practically nothing about tarot, googled the meanings of each, they fit well enough, I called it a day lol.

So Farah is the Moon, upside down.

Price is next, showing him taking control of the brain of someone. I didn't use the flag of the UK for the 141 (it'd be kinda boring...), instead I took the Taskforce 141 logo, and broke it down to different elements.

I took the laurels for Price, both framing his illustration and sitting above his head like a crown. I decided he will be the Emperor.

Next up is Gaz, the Hanged Man of course. Gaz gets both the wings and the stars (I changed mine to 4-pointed because... I like them better). Pretty clear why, both symbols relate to the sky. The illustrations kinda follow a rough day cycle, if that makes sense. Farah being night, with the moon. Price with his golden and purple color palette, twilight. Gaz being sunrise, and Ghost and Soap, day. This is why Gaz has a sun behind him.

Ghost was fun because he's the only inhuman one out of the group. I'll let you think what that implies, that even in Fate's Weave, Ghost is an outlier... Ghost gets the skull, and the card "Death". That one was easy, but what I did add is blood flowing down the skulls, like tear tracks...

Soap, the problem child, gave me the most issues as always. For once, it wasn't his fucking face, it was the flames behind him, and overall contrast and readability issues. Soap's illustration is probably packed with the most "hidden" details, though they're obvious if you've read the fic and Konchar's side story. The headless man behind Soap is Konchar himself, holding 4 chains with dog tags on them. The 4 soldiers from Soap's squad, who he killed before Soap was Reaped. Soap's pose is from the moment he came to his senses, after getting shot in the head and destroying a large part of Verdansk. He has 4 swords, pointing at him and downwards, so his card is 4 of Swords, upside down.

Between Soap and Ghost is a circle and a triangle. I'll explain that in the post concerning the video, since that's where I got that from.

If you read all of this, thank you so much! There will be another post for you to read in a moment lol

[cottonlemonade]

Hi hi!! I saw your lemonade stand and I LOVE the concept omg. Can I request a medium watermelon lemonade with pomegranate seeds for Asahi?

Thank you so much if you write it !! I hope you have a great day 🩷

Sharing A Tent With His Crush

word count: 1926 || avg. reading time: 8 mins.

pairing: Asahi x chubby manager!Reader

genre: fluff with spice

warning: mdni, spoilers

request: fluffy-spicy, sharing a tent with pining friend Asahi

“One, two, three, four…”

As Takeda counted in the background, Coach Ukai studied his clipboard, listening with a content smile to the hollering and laughter that was carried up from the beach by an easy sea breeze. The kids were off swimming and building sandcastles and trenches, enjoying their hard earned freedom after weeks of studying and practices.

“Oh no.”

Ukai turned to the teacher.

“What is it, Sensei?”

“Oh nononono - no!”

“What? Did we forget a cooler? What?”

“We are one tent short!”

“What?!”, Ukai’s booming yell made some birds fly out of a tree top, “I double checked it! Are you sure?”

The men stood shoulder to shoulder, counting. Again. And again. But even after the fifth time, Ukai had to admit his mistake.

“What are we gonna do?”, Takeda asked, panic rising in his voice.

“We just… gotta rethink logistics.”, Ukai said, grabbing the clipboard once more and flipping to the page of the sleeping arrangements.

One of the boys was supposed to sleep alone anyway. And one of the girls, too, because both numbers were uneven.

“Maybe we can squeeze Nishinoya, Hinata and Yamaguchi into one and then have y/n take the free boys’ tent.”

“Sensei, we can’t just sort them by size. I think… hm, y/n is a third year. If we put her with one of the other third years they should have the presence of mind not to try any funny business. The first years won’t get a wink of sleep having a girl so close to them at night and the second years are as girl-crazy as they come.”

“How about Sugawara then?”

“Don’t be too trusting, Sensei. I don’t think he is as innocent as he seems.”, Ukai said with a frown, “And Sawamura might do something without even realizing he is flirting. - I hate to say it but … Azumane will be too chicken to even go near her. I think he is our best bet.”

Asahi went pale when the news broke over dinner. He looked at you and was quite relieved to see you equally as shocked.

“It‘s just for one night.“, Ukai said quickly, “Not a big deal.“

Both the ace and third manager would very much beg to differ but the coach already made his way back to Takeda and his plate of chicken.

“No big deal.“, you repeated under your breath.

“No big deal.“, Asahi agreed.

It was, in fact, a big deal to Asahi. He didn‘t know exactly when he started to be hopelessly in love with you but if he had to take a guess, it was probably somewhere around the time when he noticed all of his sketches and doodles of various outfits becoming chubbier until they eventually matched your figure. Skirts for a lovely Sunday date, pantsuits for eventually kicking butt at an office where you undoubtedly would end up as CEO sooner or later, dresses for imaginary galas you‘d attend and even an elaborate gown for a daydream of a royal ball he had during a boring physics lesson. (He also came up with his own outfit for that occasion to match you.)

Noya was the only one he confided in. The libero had sworn on his honor to never hit on you and ever since tried to push his best friend to make a move before graduating and possibly losing sight of you. And after much pushing and pestering and strategizing, Asahi, under threat of violence, had agreed to confess his feelings before graduation - as an out, Asahi didn’t tell his friend that he hadn’t actually specified whether it was graduating high school or university so he still had time either way.

After dinner the team gathered around a bonfire to roast marshmallows and make up completely ridiculous, yet confident, remarks about constellations in the clear night sky.

Asahi was torn between wanting to play for time until curfew or savor every second of the increasingly appealing mishap - to share a tent, all night, alone, side by side with his crush.

But of course, as with every good beach episode, there had to be a game of truth or dare involved.

Daichi was forced to admit that he was deadly scared of mice, Hinata had to sit still for a whole minute and, in the meantime, Tsukki was dared to not insult him once. It was fun until Noya turned to you and the glint in his eyes made you gulp.

“So, y/n-san. Truth or dare?”

Quite frankly, both of these were dangerous coming from him but maybe truth wouldn’t be so bad.

Noya gave a victorious grin.

“Who, of the people here, do you have a crush on?”

Asahi wasn’t sure if it was the light of fire that made your cheeks look so pink. His heart quickened. You stammered, kneading your fingers in your lap.

“Alright everyone.”, Daichi said when an alarm went off on his phone, “Let’s get to bed. Lights out in 15 minutes.”

Noya groaned and began to argue but one look from the captain had him crumble. So instead, he and Tanaka pushed each other out of the way, eager to be the one to accompany Kiyoko the few steps to the tent she shared with Yaachi.

Suga and Daichi gave Asahi a nondescript nod Goodnight before heading to bed themselves.

It was quite miraculous, you thought, how Asahi’s massively tall frame could fit next to you, when your plump form occupied a good part of the truly pathetically crammed tent already.

You sat cross legged on your sleeping bag, in your pyjama shorts and oversized t-shirt. Given the sleeping arrangements you decided to keep wearing a bra.

“Just for one night, right?”, you said in a (failed) attempt to make your voice sound light and airy.

You pumped some oil into the palm of your hand before running your fingers through your hair. The pleasant smell filled the tent. You caught his eyes and smiled, then both of you looked away again. The atmosphere was somewhat stiff, even though you’ve been on friendly terms with the fellow third years ever since you switched over from the Sewing Club about a year ago.

“Do you think-“

“So what would you-“

You said at the same time and broke off, laughing awkwardly.

“You first.”, he said.

“Do you think it’s okay if we keep on a light?”, you asked.

“Sure. Do you have one? Cause otherwise, I brought-” Asahi reached for his backpack and so did you.

After a moment’s rummaging you produced a small panda bear figure and turned to see a thing in his hand that looked suspiciously like a round little rabbit with a leaf umbrella.

“Is that… is that the official Totoro night light with 8 different color options and dimming function??”

Asahi nodded and you clasped your hands in delight, leaning closer to inspect it as he held it out to you. You let out a small gasp. This was one of the best night lights on the market right now after all!

“I wanted one of those for ages! But they're always sold out! How did you get it?”

“I set myself an alert for when they’re back in stock.”

He basked in your impressed “Ohhhh” and a few minutes later you both lay on your stomachs, looking at the two soft glowing figures in front of you.

Outside the tent, Ukai nodded approvingly on his last checkup before turning in himself in the room he shared with Takeda in a guesthouse on the border of the camping grounds.

“What was your question?”

“Hm?”, Asahi turned to look at you.

“Earlier when I asked you about the light. You wanted to say something as well. What was it?”

“Oh, not important.”, he said and moved the Totoro night light a little closer to your panda.

“Come on, I wanna know.”, you lightly pushed his leg with your foot to encourage him.

“I was just… I-i was wondering what you would have said if Daichi’s alarm hadn’t gone off.”, he mumbled.

“When? Oh, the game. Uhm.” The pink from earlier returned to your cheeks. Now would be as good a time as any, you thought and after a deep breath you replied, “You.”

Stupidly, Asahi rolled around to check if there was someone else behind him in the tiny tent before moving his attention back to you.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”, you laughed.

“I- I don't know what to say.”, Asahi stammered.

You regarded him with a thoughtful smile, still somewhat hopeful that what Kiyoko and Suga told you was right.

“Well, you could tell me if you feel the same or not, maybe?”

“Oh right! Yes!”, he said, much louder than intended and ducked his head a moment later, “Yes, I do like you. A lot.”

You beamed at him.

“Nice.”

The following giggles were suppressed in your respective pillows.

When you came back up for air he brushed a few loose strands of hair out of his face and cleared his throat, “Would you like to go out with me once we’re back?”

“I’d love to.”

“Great.”

You both looked at each other, unsure of what to do next.

“So…”, you began, weighing your words carefully, “Do you wanna make out?”

If Asahi had been drinking water, he would have choked on it. His face immediately turned bright red and he needed a minute to put a coherent word together. You waited patiently.

“Yes.”, he croaked eventually.

He didn’t move.

“I’ll be right there.”, he assured you, his voice and face still not quite back to normal.

“That’s alright.”

Asahi’s eyes widened when you scooted closer and your noses almost touched.

“Hi.”

“H-hello.”

It started out with a peck. You pulled back to check if he had any objections but you didn’t get very far. His lips followed yours as if magnetic. He sighed into the kiss and your smile widened if possible even further. His large hand came to rest on your waist and you slotted your leg between his. The kiss soon became open mouthed, your tongue slipping back and forth to test the waters.

You hummed happily against him, making him squeeze your pillowy hips. He was losing his mind. How could one person feel this good? Your hand brushed down his muscular arm to lay on top of his and began to move it. He was so engrossed in your taste that he didn’t notice until he cupped your breast.

“Y/n…”, he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. He stared at his hand, how it went up and down along with your panting. You, in turn, felt him throb against your thigh that was pushed between his legs.

Your chubby fingers closed around his much larger hand, easing him into the idea that he was free to touch you.

“Y/n…”, he whispered again and was met with your lips on his once more. He had never been drunk before but he was sure this was exactly what it must feel like.

Asahi groaned into your mouth when his palm pressed against your hardened nipple, pushing through the fabrics.

____________________

Picking up a piece of omelet with his chopsticks the next morning, Asahi grinned down at his bowl of rice like an idiot. You sat right next to him, so close that your heavenly thighs touched his, just as dazed from the previous night.

Tsukki frowned and said to no one in particular, but loud enough for you to hear, “Do they realize that tents aren’t soundproof?”

a/n: this one got so away from me xD thank you for your request and your kind words! I hope you enjoy it 🌟

Also I apologize for being so inactive. It’s a mixture of writer’s block, summer heat and a twisted back 🥲

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you're not just friends, but you're not more than that either. he's the epitome of unreadable and unavailable, leaving you confused, hurt, and lost.

★ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: xavier

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: first person pov, really angsty, like REALLY angsty (i chose violence my bad), college au, situationship plot

★ 𝐰𝐜: 4.3k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: before i say anything im so sorry. like i was not expecting it to be this angsty but then it was and...well i couldn't stop it. i will for sure write a happy ending for this if someone would like that!! i think xavier would be a situationship final boss cause bro cannot manage his feelings. also can you tell i really like college au's... anyways, enjoy!!

His hands rest on the curve of my waist, firm and possessive, as if his fingers might weave through my ribs and anchor themselves there. His touch lingers with a quiet desperation, a reminder of everything we’ve shared. Once you’ve seen so much of someone, their fears, their desires, the way their eyes light up in the smallest moments—walking away feels like tearing apart something sacred, like committing a sin against the universe itself.

I stare at his sleeping face. I could protect him, my heart a sanctuary warm enough for him to find peace. He’d never have to wander again, never ever need to leave. The softness of his skin could soothe the ache buried deep within me, erasing the sickness with a quiet, tender touch.

He has my heart trapped like a bird.

Part of me wonders if he knows how he’s holding me, if he finds comfort within his slumber and dreams with my body pressed against his. Or if he’ll stir and realize, turning away and leaving me to stare at the muscles in his back that flex as he sleeps.

I trace circles onto his bicep, like the circles he runs around us.

I had met Xavier a little over a year ago, he was a friend of a friend, and we met at a small house party that a few mutuals of ours had thrown. He was like a star, shining so brightly in the room it drowned out everyone else. He was standing in a corner talking to Jeremiah, a good friend of mine that I shared some classes with. The way Xavier shyly smiled at me when Jeremiah introduced us made my heart feel like King Arthur’s sword, and someone had finally managed to capture it.

We talked the rest of the night, never leaving that spot in the corner. I paid no mind to anyone else I knew in that house, all that mattered was the beautiful cosmic boy I was encountering.

He found me again in the library a few weeks later, lightly tapping my shoulder and asking if he could study with me. Xavier was an astronomy major, ever so fitting for the star-boy who sparkled like constellations no matter where he went. The way his face lit up when asked about space was a vision I wanted to replay behind my eyelids every time I slept.

Xavier quickly became one of my best friends, and every second I spent with him was a second closer to my demise.

With him, I had tunnel vision. It didn’t matter how many guys my friends tried to set me up with, none of them were Xavier.

He was all I ever wanted.

I had never wanted anything as bad as I wanted Xavier. In my eyes he hung the moon and the stars. My love for him was an insatiable hunger that only he could cure; if he was Hades I would’ve taken that pomegranate from his tree, sacrificing my life to spend the rest of my time in hell just so I could spend eternity with him. I’d put myself on display for him so he can play God on judgement day, I’d let him carve his name into me so I’d remember what to say, I’d do anything he asked.

He’s the serpent and I’m Eve.

Xavier was hard to read, it was like trying to understand the plot of a book in pig latin. One moment he’s sitting so close to me I can smell his shampoo, looking me in my eyes and smiling so widely I thought his cheeks would hurt, as he twirls a strand of my hair around his finger. He’ll cut me off mid sentence and tell me I look beautiful, and watch me as if I’m a movie he’s been waiting years to see.

The next moment? I don’t see him for days; I don’t get texts, no photos and complaints about his astronomy homework, no little alien gifs, no hellos or goodbyes. He disappears without a trace, and the only proof I have that he ever existed is the ache in my heart when I realize he’s pulling away again.

I’ve never gotten anything I’ve ever wanted, but once, I got close. Xavier had showed up at my dorm on a storming Saturday night at 1 AM like a sopping wet dog in the hallway, his first appearance in a week. Slurring his speech, blubbering about how Jeremiah and their friends dragged him out to the bars.

“M’sorry I just showed up, I wanted to see you…Just see you…”

Drunk off his ass, the pity for him overcame my anger. I gave him a change of his own clothes, hoodies and sweatpants I had borrowed and never gave back, the only pieces I had of him when he would turn into a ghost again.

Xavier watched me as I maneuvered around the room, grabbing him a glass of water, his eyes bleary and lips mumbling breathless words I couldn’t catch.

“Hey.”

I turned to look at him, his cheeks and ears red from the alcohol. He was sprawled out on my bed shirtless after refusing the hoodie, declaring the room was too hot. Xavier gestured for me to come closer, and as I approached the bed, he yanked my wrist down causing me to collapse onto his bare chest. His half-lidded eyes scanned my face, hand snaking up my waist.

“Is this okay?” He said through breathless kisses on my shoulder. Holding my body very still, I thought if I moved I may wake up.

“Xavier, you’re drunk.” I whispered, my words betraying my thoughts. He stilled, and I internally punched myself. Pulling back far enough I could see his eyes again, he smiled and placed a kiss on my palm. I couldn’t help but smile back, as my heart lurched out of my chest and into his hands for good. Xavier slowly and awkwardly flipped me onto my back, stumbling a bit through his inebriation. He mumbled words of adoration, planting kisses that burned like the fire of a star all over my face and skin.

“Perfect… So perfect… You’re like Venus, so full of love… Beautiful girl…”

Xavier kissed me like I was broken and he was thread, trying to sew me back together. The moment was holy, his heart singing to mine like a psalm. I memorized the movement of his lips against mine, cherishing the taste of cheap beer on his tongue.

“I love you.”

He fell asleep next to me, as I stayed awake staring at the ceiling, wondering what this meant for us.

Nothing, I suppose.

Xavier never mentioned it, and I never felt the courage to bring it up. It was only a fleeting moment, but it stuck with me like a plague, hanging over my head. It left the soft moments with him more confusing, the compliments more intimate, the feelings more frustrating.

I stare at him asleep holding me, face gentle through dreams, and I want to cry. Falling asleep next to me was nothing new, crashing in my dorm after movie nights or study dates. ‘No it’s okay, don’t sleep on the floor. We can just share the bed.’

I am a ticking time bomb, and I’m going to explode.

My heart is trapped like a bird.

-

“Honestly, I really think you should just confront him,” Tara flips through the pages of her textbook, “it’s not getting you anywhere not knowing what he thinks.”

I throw my face in my hands, letting out a groan and tangling my fingers in my hair, “It’s not that easy. What am I gonna say? ‘Hey, we kissed once so what are we?’ Do you know how crazy that sounds!”

“You forgot the part, ‘you also spend the night in my bed a lot’ or, ‘you told me you loved me’.”

“Friends do and say stuff like that all the time!” Shuddering at the thought of rejection, I hold up a finger to silence Tara, “Plus I’m not sure I even want to know. I think staying in the dark is better for everyone.”

She rolls her eyes, slamming the textbook closed, “Right. Okay, fine, that’s fine. Just quit complaining, I’m gonna tear my hair out.” Walking over, she places a kiss to the top of my head, “You know I love you, but I’m gonna kill both of you if I have to hear about it one more time.”

Tara leaves for class, and I’m left alone in the library with my thoughts and an exam to study for. I feel the pads of Xavier’s fingertips against my skin leftover from last night, and the feeling of emptiness when I woke up and he was gone. No text saying he had left for class, just radio silence and his body imprinted in my sheets. It’s moments like this, when I’m convinced I’ve got him right outside my grasp, he’d fall back out of reach.

I’m about to put on my headphones and tune the world out, when I hear a man's voice.

“Are you studying for the exam?”

I look up, and I see the boy who sits next to me in my stats class, Rafayel. His hair is a mess, and his black sweater has a few paint stains on them. I assume he’s just come from the studio, as his satchel is hanging loosely over his shoulder, his portfolio book sticking out. Rafayel’s an art major and never fails to complain the whole time about how the class is required for him, but he’s ‘never even gonna use this stuff’.

I huff, staring at my laptop screen, “Yeah, trying to at least.”

Rafayel slips into the seat Tara was just in, throwing his satchel on the floor beside him, “Oh good, you can help me then!”

I'm grateful for the distraction, as Rafayel is a sweet guy and a good break from the chronic thoughts of Xavier. His glances at me in class while I try to work on a concept with him don’t go unnoticed, or the way he doodles me on the corner of his paper, flashing me a grin when I point to the drawings. He would be so perfect, the artsy goof who showers me in attention, clingy, comedic and kind;

But he’s not Xavier.

“How am I supposed to help you with this if you’re busy drawing?” I tap his sketchbook with my pen. Rafayel looks up from his work with a frown, “I’m getting bored!”

He snatches my pen from my hand to stop my tapping, “Hey, why don’t we go to the cafe for a quick break? My brain could use it.”

“You’ve been studying for fifteen minutes.”

“So? You’re supposed to take breaks after twenty minutes, it’s been like, scientifically proven or whatever.”

He stares at me with a big smile, and I know I can’t say no to him. Literally, I wouldn’t be allowed.

When we got to the cafe, the place was packed and I internally groaned. Looking around the bustling coffee shop, it was uncomfortable just how busy it was. Waiting in line practically squished next to Rafayel, I rested my head on his shoulder as I had done many times in class before. He draped his arm around my shoulder, going on about how one of his professors gave him a bad grade on a painting because he used the wrong shade of blue. I thought about how nice it would be to stand like this with Xavier, but I never felt as if I could get close enough to try.

Trying to shake off the thoughts about him, I thought about Rafayel’s arm around me. The way his finger would poke my shoulder as he talked to put emphasis on his words, or the way his bicep flexed on the back of my neck as he moved. It was comforting in a way, secure. It was protective. Safe.

“Oh my God, I hate that dude.” Rafayel scoffs, looking at a table in the corner. Following his eyes, I caught a glimpse of tousled platinum hair. Meeting his blue eyes, my breath hitched in my chest, body freezing against Rafayel. I couldn’t read a single ounce of emotion on his face, just feeling his stare bore into me.

My first instinct wanted to rip away from Rafayel, let Xavier know I was still his. Yet-

I’m not. I’m not his, and he’s not mine.

I remember the feeling of defeat this morning when I woke up, body tired from staying up and watching the rise and fall of his chest, mind exhausted from the push and pull, chasing after him and never quite catching up.

Leaning farther into the boy beside me, I look away from Xavier and look up at Rafayel.

After all, the key to moving on is finding someone new.

“Which one?” I ask him, not sure if he’s referring to anyone else at that table. It was a group of Xaviers friends, people I had met briefly.

“The blonde one, he’s in one of my gen ed classes and he’s a total prick.” Rafayel stares back at Xavier, and I try to avoid his piercing eyes, focusing on picking at a piece of lint on Rafayels sweater.

“Oh, yeah. I know him.” I don’t want him to be introduced to that part of my world. Rafayel is pure, untainted by the chaos. I didn’t want to drag him into the hurricane.

-

After that, I didn’t hear from Xavier for a while. Though his silence wasn’t uncommon, I couldn’t help but think this time it may have been provoked by the moment in the cafe. I saw him around campus a few times, in his usual spots, but when he’d notice me he’d just look away.

Saying it hurt would be an understatement.

I started seeing Rafayel more to fill the void that Xavier was leaving behind. Every tear Xavier had ripped into my heart and soul, Rafayel was taking bandaids and patching them up. While it was nice, it wasn’t a permanent solution to the wounds.

I felt guilty, like I was using him, doing the same thing to Rafayel that Xavier was doing to me. Though, despite whatever was happening, Rafayel was content. I don’t think he minded the situation I had imposed. From little dates to holding hands, to kisses on my cheek when he’d drop me off at my dorm, I was getting the attention I craved and Rafayel had someone to keep him company. It’s like we had this silent, mutual agreement that whatever was happening was okay, and this is all it had to be.

Rafayel never knew about Xavier, and I would never tell him.

The incident at the cafe was the first, but not the only time Xavier saw us together. Whether it was the library studying, or the student union building, Xavier would see us and almost always stare. Rafayel always had comments to make about it too, muttering things under his breath about him being a creepy stalker.

I was sitting on the floor of my dorm with Rafayel, scrolling aimlessly on my phone as he sketched the fake plants I had sitting on my desk. My phone started to blow up with everyone texting in our group chat, something about a party happening this weekend.

Tara: Please tell me you guys are gonna be there!

Jeremiah: i have to go, one of my friends is in the frat and he’ll kill me if i don’t

Tara: Okay that's 2 of us! Who else???

“Who’s texting you so much?” Rafayel says, clearly annoyed by my phone's insistent text tone going off.

“This group chat I’m in with my friends,” I sit my phone down, “there's a party this weekend and they’re trying to get everyone to go.”

“Are you going to?”

“I dunno, are you?”

Rafayel laughs, “You know better than anyone I couldn’t be caught dead at one of those.” He puts his sketchbook aside, grabbing my hand, “You should go though, you don’t really do much besides go to class and see me, and as much as I'm happy with the attention, this is a really sad look for you.”

I pull my hand away, offended, “I am not sad!”

“Then prove it, go to the party.”

“I’m pretty sure this is peer pressure, hazing even.”

“That’s most definitely not hazing.” Rafayel picks his sketchbook back up, going back to his drawing with a smug look on his face.

I text back in the groupchat, upset that I agree with Rafayel. Ever since I started hanging out with him and Xavier started giving me the full blown silent treatment, I haven’t really gone out much. I see Tara here and there for lunch or a quick study session, but it’s been a while since I’ve taken the time to do something fun.

Me: yea i’ll be there, lmk what time

Tara: OMG YAY!!!! I’ll send you the details

Xavier: I’ll see U guys there

Seeing Xavier text that he was going to be in attendance sent a lightning bolt of anxiety through my chest.

This was the longest we had gone without talking. Usually, his moments of silence only lasted a few weeks at most. With due time he’d come back with a post he sent or ask me to hang out, announcing his presence and waltzing back into my life; and I'd let him in.

Every. Single. Time.

The distance he created between us this time around made me anxious to face him the upcoming weekend. Would he say hi? Ask how I was? Would he look right through me like so many times before?

After Rafayel left, I sat in bed cocooned in one of Xavier's hoodies he had left behind, watching the stars through my window. I thought maybe, if I stared hard enough, they could make a constellation of his face.

-

Friday rolled around faster than I had hoped. Per Tara’s request, we showed up fashionably late, so the old beat up house was packed by the time we arrived. It was the first time in months I had put myself together, doing my hair and makeup. Taking a couple shots of whatever Tara had given me, I was feeling mildly prepared for the night ahead.

Walking in, my hand gripped hers tightly as she maneuvered gracefully through the crowd. Grabbing a drink from the makeshift bar, I cracked open the can and started chugging. I was going to need as much alcohol as I could to get me through this night. We found a couple girls that we knew, chatting loudly over the music, as I pounded back a few more drinks.

Before I knew it, the man I was dreading seeing the most appeared beside Tara with Jeremiah.

“Ladies!” Jeremiah shouted, wrapping his arms around Tara and I. Xavier’s eyes could have burned a hole through my skull with the intensity that he stared at me. Internally I was at war with myself, half wanting to shrink away because of how small his look made me feel, but also feeling powerful thanks to the liquor coursing through my veins and the hot outfit I had on.

One voice on my shoulder screamed, “Get out of here! Go home! Never show your face again!” While the other danced around, “You’re such a sexy bitch, show him what he’s missing!”

I chugged another drink.

“Wait- Tara, I want you to meet one of my friends, come with me.” Jeremiah gestured for Tara to follow him, and I flashed her a panicked look. She shrugged, squeezing my hand before following behind Jeremiah.

I stood alone with Xavier, the rest of the group disbursing where it just left us.

“I’m gonna get a drink, come on.”

I looked at him, “What?”

“I’m gonna go get a drink? Let's go.” He raised an eyebrow at me, like I asked a stupid question.

“Okay, but why do I have to come with you?”

“Because I’m not leaving you all by yourself-” Xavier pressed two fingers to his temple, “nevermind it’s fine I don’t need another one.”

“I was just asking-”

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He cut me off, his question catching me off guard.

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you having trouble understanding tonight or something? How much have you had to drink?” His words were venom, and I was appalled. Not once had he ever spoken to me this way, not even in arguments.

“I just don’t know who you’re fucking talking about, my bad.” I spat back at him.

“The guy who’s always up your ass, where is he tonight?”

I laughed, shocked, “You mean Rafayel? He is not my boyfriend.” I wasn’t sure if it was the liquor or his jealousy, but his attitude was a loaded gun.

“Well I couldn’t tell, seeing as how you both practically eye fuck wherever you go.”

Stunned, my jaw dropped. His eyes softened, and I could tell he knew he hit a nerve. With the blaring music in my ears, and the alcohol coursing through my veins, I was suddenly convinced that if I didn’t get out of that house I was going to fall apart to pieces.

“I don’t have to take this.” I shoved past him, pushing my way through the crowd and out the front door, until the cold air hit my face.

Xavier called out my name from behind, but I continued walking down the sidewalk. I wanted to be so far from that party, from him, that I thought I may just walk back to my hometown and away from this stupid place; to somewhere he didn’t exist anymore.

Calling my name again, he caught up, grabbing me by my shoulder. His face was switching through emotions every second, and I was getting whiplash.

“What the hell is your problem!” I shouted at him, tears threatening to spill, welling up in the corner of my eyes.

“Hey, wait-” His hand that was on my shoulder went to my cheek, and I jerked away.

“No, you don’t get to do that anymore, we’re done playing that game. I give up!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You- This, us! You kiss me, you tell me I’m beautiful, you tell me you love me, you sleep in my bed and I’m in your arms, then you don’t text me for weeks! You don’t acknowledge anything you do, and I don’t know what any of it means,” I don’t realize I’m crying until I taste the salt in my mouth, “You’re so confusing and I don’t know what’s happening, and it hurts so fucking bad and you don’t even care.”

Xavier stands there dumbfounded, my vision blurry and spinning. I think I might throw up, and I’m not sure if it’s from the situation or the liquor.

“Then you have the audacity to be mean to me over some guy that I’m friends with,” I start to sob, my voice becoming weak and small, “you don’t get to do that, you have no right.”

He doesn’t move, and I stop talking. The only sound between us is my quiet crying and hiccups, mixed with the faint music from the party down the block. He says my name, and I barely hear it over the roar of my own ears.

“You’re my best friend…” He whispers.

The words cut through me like a knife, and I think if I look down I’ll see I’ve been gutted. If you could die from a broken heart, I’d already be six feet under. I swallow thickly, and nod. His words were enough, it told me everything I needed to know.

“Can I walk you home?” He asks.

I shake my head.

I started walking down the sidewalk.

He didn't follow.

When he was out of sight, I sat down on the curb and broke down again. Everything I had felt over the past year of knowing him came out at once, my body ejecting all of it. I cursed him, his name, his future wife and family. I prayed that he was destined to stay up at night, regretting that the woman asleep next to him isn’t me. Distraught, because I believe I myself am cursed to love him forever.

I called Rafayel, and asked him to pick me up. I threw up in someone's yard before he did, and when I finally got back home I closed my curtains and locked my window, hiding under my blankets; convinced the stars in the sky were out to get me. I never wanted to see them again, I’d avoid going outside at night for eternity if it meant I never had to face a reminder of him and his devastating beauty.

The next morning, I blocked him.

Well, I blocked him on all social media, even the ones we didn’t use; but I didn’t block his number. For emergency purposes, I thought.

Or I guess for the slim chance he came back; haunted by regret, choking on apologies, and falling to his knees to plead for forgiveness. I told my friends I was finished with him, swore it with conviction, but I’m starting to think those words were as empty as his own promises.

I won't text him first, I’ll just wait.

I’d wait until he misses my laugh, the sound of my voice, or the songs I’d sing to him as he fell asleep, my fingers through his hair.

I won’t text him, but I won’t shut him out entirely. I’ll close the door behind me, but I won’t lock it, not completely. I won’t hand him the key, but maybe I’ll leave behind a clue, something subtle, something only he’d recognize. Just in case he decides to come back, he’ll know where to start searching, know there’s still a way in, even if I pretend there isn’t.

I’d keep the house behind the door clean, buy a welcome mat, and even build a porch.

Just in case;

But he never called.

(divider by cafekitsune)

[junabuggy]

Hi! I love your writing! Would you be up for writing a fic where reader has super bad separation anxiety from Al, but he has to go somewhere without them and either Angel Dust or Husk is in charge of taking care of them/keeping them calm while he’s gone? Thanks a bunch!!! ❤️

Separation anxiety! GN! Reader x Alastor/husker?

A/n: Of course !! Honestly this has been super fun and I’m more than grateful for all the people who seem to enjoy my silly little fanfictions/headcanons, many thanks everybody ♥️♥️

Also, if you couldn’t tell from a lot of my writing, I’ve taken quite a liking to Alastor… So I get it, I love him too y’all ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Warnings: Mentions of separation anxiety, Mentions of alcohol, Alastor being Alastor so light mentions of blood and cannibalism (doesn’t actually happen)

Fluff✔️ Comfort✔️ Angst❌ Smut❌

Hope yall don’t mind a few headcanons first about this :33

📻𖤐 it’s hard to tell how Alastor would realistically react to someone being attached to him in that way..

📻𖤐 Like do I think it would bother him? No, he wouldn’t mind you tagging along wherever he went as long as you didn’t bother him too much or get in the way of things but there are just times where he requires or wants to be alone. Which is where Husker would come in lol

📻𖤐 He probably wouldn’t leave you with Angel, even if Husk wasn’t available for whatever reason he’d just get Charlie to look after you while he was away.

📻𖤐 I feel like he cares/loves in an odd way.. like he wants to tear you apart and lick up all your delicious, sweet blood but in an affectionate way??? If that makes sense?? Remember that pomegranate cannibalism metaphor that went around on TikTok for a bit there? Think that.

📻𖤐 of course, he wouldn’t do that, he wants to keep you around.

Okok I’m done yapping about silly radio man lol, onto the fic

Unfortunately, today was one of those days you couldn’t tag along with where Alastor went, he was attending an overlord meeting and obviously you not being an overlord it meant that you couldn’t go with him despite all of your protests and begging.

Before his departure, he sat you down at the bar with Husker and gave you a little pat on the head, telling you that he’d be back shortly and walking out of the hotel doors.

The grumpy cat demon poured himself a drink as he stared at you, this wasn’t exactly the first time Alastor had left him on “babysitting” duty with you and he didn’t exactly mind it. You were quite sweet for somebody who landed themselves in a place like hell.

“Where’s he off to this time?” Husker asked before taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage he held in his hand, attempting to make some form of conversation with you.

“Oh.. just some kind of silly overlord meeting…” You mumbled out a short reply whilst looking a bit glum. He simply nodded in response, setting his glass down on the bar countertop to mix you up a little something as well.

Husk didn’t understand your attachment to the Radio Demon to be completely frank with you. He and a lot of others viewed Alastor as something to fear, respect, and try to avoid contact with the best they could… so seeing someone who enjoyed his company was a foreign idea to him. But he wouldn’t judge you for it. It wasn’t exactly his business anyways and at least he seemed to treat you decently.

“Don’t stress it kid, he’ll be back soon. He keeps his promises I’ll give him that much.” Husk attempted to reassure you, giving a slight smile as he slid a drink down to you.

You smiled back weakly and nodded, taking a deep breath as you grabbed the drink he had slid over to you. You took a sip and it tasted like a screwdriver, not too bad of a drink and it would probably take your mind off of things a little bit if you had a few of them. Which was probably the goal Husker was trying to reach.. he couldn’t imagine separation anxiety to be very fun.

Later into the night once you got a few drinks in you, you started to forget all about why you were upset and/or stressed out in the first place. Chatting with Husk about random stuff and occasionally mentioning and talking about a person or two.

Husk wished there were more nights like this, more time spent with you… and who knows? Maybe you’ll be visiting the bar more often for him after tonight if he was lucky. He was pretty good at playing his cards right, after all.

(Sorry this was kinda short !! I wasn’t sure what else to write. Lmk if you guys maybe want a part two with Alastor coming back from his little meeting, I might do that :3)

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐲

[honey-crypt]

a/n: a request from the lovely @fuerrziah! the rest of my drafts are smut requests and i've been anti-horny soooo... have some short but tooth aching sweet fluff!!

word count: 892

warnings: none

summary: a surprise dinner has elliott questioning what you have up your sleeve. little does he know, you have hidden a mermaid's pendant somewhere at the table.

★ honeysuckles and pomegranates - elliott x farmer ★

Elliott clutched the ornate letter close to his chest, as he approached the entrance to the local farm. He recited the contents of the letter by heart in his mind, as if it was a mantra of good luck. Over and over again, the writer repeated to himself, Meet me tonight at 9pm. I have a surprise for you. Dress up. 

And- oh, boy- did Elliott dress up. His day to day appearance reflected nothing but sophistication and charm in his neatly pressed shirts and bold accents, but his “dress up” attire blew that essemble out of the water. Elliott wore his hair in a low ponytail, secured in an emerald green ribbon. He dressed in a flowy white shirt and paired it with relaxed red slacks, his overcoat shrugged off his shoulders like a shawl. His brown Oxfords echoed against the dirt ground, as Elliott approached his beloved’s farmhouse. 

Outside, the farm was illuminated by bronze lanterns, the core areas sporting at least one. Fireflies filled the remaining darkness out with the occasional flicker of dim light. Elliott knocked on the door and awaited for his beloved. A few footsteps rang out from behind the door, closer and closer until the redhead came face to face with you, his love. 

“Hello, honeysuckle,” the term of endearment rolled off his tongue effortlessly. You beamed up at Elliott, “Hello, pompom~” your tongue, meanwhile, teased out the pet name for Elliott. He let out a snort, uncharacteristically poignant of his usual prim and proper self. Yet, with you, Elliott allowed himself to ‘let loose’ and forgo any formalities. 

“You said in your letter-” he unfolded the precious paper of parchment and double-checked its contents, “That you had a surprise for me?” you nodded and held out your hand, “Lemme show you,” the writer graciously took your hand and followed you towards the surprise. Nested within the lushious orchard on your property, fairy lights shined upon a magnificent scene. A small table with two chairs stood proudly in the center, as soft instrumentals hummed from the radio. A bottle of chilled pomegranate wine rested in an ice box on the table, a plate of freshly steamed crab cakes on each side of the chairs. Elliott could only gawk like a dumbstruck fool at the sight before him.

“What do you think? I got this all set up for you,” your voice brought him back into reality. Elliott blinked and turned to you, “What do I think?” he pulled you close and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips, “I believe you have outdone yourself once again, my dear.”

“I’m glad you like it!” you giggled, your smile ever so bright in Elliott’s eyes. You then gestured to the grand dinner, “Let’s eat,” the redhead nodded in agreement and took a seat at the table with you, his mouth salivating at the sight of his favorite meal. 

Goodness, this must have cost them a small fortune, the writer thought to himself while he dug into the heavenly assortment. As the meal went on, the two of you exchanged recaps of your day, the latest town gossip, and so on. It was just like every other dinner date, but in his heart, Elliott knew something was slightly off about this date, as his nose twitched throughout the dinner. 

“I propose a toast,” his ears perked up at the sound of your sweet voice. You held up your glass of wine and Elliott followed in suit, “Just like old times,” the writer mused. Elliott smiled fondly at the memory, the night he felt the spark ignite in his chest, as he proposed a toast to your friendship. The way your smile lit up the saloon, the way you merrily drank your ale, it was no surprise that Elliott fell head over heels for you. 

“I wish to toast to…” your eyes darted to the ice box, “Our love,” you lifted up the ice box, revealing an all too familiar necklace. Elliott’s jaw went slack at the necklace, the vibrant blue pendant glistening under the moonlight. You grasped the Mermaid’s Pendant and held it out to Elliott, “The moment we shared that drink in the saloon was the night I fell in love with you, Elliott. Underneath your elegant persona, I saw a man full of wonder and laughter,” tears began to swell up in the writer’s eyes, “Elliott, will you do me the greatest honor and marry me?”

“Yes!” he nearly shrieked, forgoing any restraint and practically throwing himself at you. The two of you shared a deep kiss, your hands playing with Elliott’s long ginger hair while he held you as close as he possibly could. When you finally pried yourself off one another, Elliott flashed you that million dollar smile of his and hummed, “Do you want to know something funny?”

“Of course,” you answered, eyes twinkling with curiosity. Elliott rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a small box, “I planned on proposing to you, too,” he opened the box and revealed an identical Mermaid’s Pendant. You broke out into a grin and kissed your fiancé feverishly, pulling away only to put the engagement token around Elliott’s neck. He returned the favor and stared down at your neck, his chest bubbling up with excitement. 

Guess my nose is never wrong about these sorts of things.

[thereraigoes]

“how to make millions before grandma dies” through my own lenses.

these days, the internet is filled with people recommending this film to be added in everyone’s watch-list. 1) asian family themed 2) people said it’s tear jerking 3) it’s available at the nearest cinema from home— those three points intrigued me to give the film a toss to try. a moment after i went from the cinema, i know well that people who keep recommend this film is not lying at all.

reviewing a film is never my forte but this film makes me want to write something after watching it. i guess it’s the bond of similarity that this film has to me, especially i’m an asian as well.

i would like to give the five stars to,

the color grading.

i am always a big fan of films that have pretty color grading. htmmbgd has a really pretty, i would even say it’s the prettiest color grading from all the movies that i’ve watched lately. if you look closely toward color grading of each film, sometimes several places have its own colour— so does this film, somehow you can know exactly where the film is located just by looking at its color. i don’t really know how to describe it but when i saw that warm, sunny that sun can sting your skin but someplace is kind of shady.. somehow it really screams asia, and it feels so homey.

also a plus point that it is neither over saturated nor under saturated. it’s unpleasant to watch the artist’s skin look so orange where they are not meant to be a tangerine or look so grey where they are not meant to be someone who hasn’t eaten for a week.

it just.. chef kisses. a lot of scenes that show scenery around the setting and it doesn’t lessen the plot, it makes the audience know about the place without too much movement from the camera.

the sound choice.

it adds drama and spices to the films so much and without them, maybe people can survive this film without crying. it plays an important role as well to the plot since we know that m is known as a scaredy cat and amah’s lullaby is the one who relaxed him down and vice versa (i’m not mentioning that scene okay!)

“you can’t leave this cinema without crying buddies.. it’s okay you can cry, okay cry now” that would depict how the sound’s role in htmmbgd.

the plot.

i won’t say a lot about this but kudos to the filmmaker because it’s really good! the plot doesn’t always go like the audience prediction but somehow it’s relieving.. that’s just the same as how the real world does right?

the highlighted-scene and little details that i care for,

a heads up. i might mention some scenes and maybe some of them are spoilers to everyone who hasn’t watched it. so feel free to stop reading if you feel the spoilers are too heavy for you. i’ll try to lessen it!

amah’s paperbag

while watching the film, i realize that amah never wears a proper ‘bag’. we only see that she always wears paperbag that m always carries for. in my interpretation, it symbolizes the humbleness of amah. we know that amah only sells congee for living— three children and herself. those moneys that she get from is always prioritized for her children needs, not her needs— especially for secondary and the tersier one. if it’s enough to carry, then let it be. but we know, there lies a thing that meant a lot for her family inside it.

m and amah talks when m asked why amah always wanted to have a great land of cemetery for her soon.

i can’t help but cry in silence when this scene appears because it’s just so.. ironic. amah always wants to have her children coming together with her, even when she is passed away so she thinks if her children don’t want come when she is alive— a good cemetery would probably help her desire to have a nice gathering without an argument.

pomegranate and amah’s implicit love.

just like common asian themed poem, there will always be mom cutting fruit to symbolize mother love. but i never read (this could be i am the one who never find it, send me one if you ever read it!) a grandma who is cutting the fruit.

even for her own son, amah forbade him to eat the pomegranate because it was meant for m only. she has kept that pomegranate tree for years, water it everyday, cut the rotten branch, wrap the pomegranate with plastic so the caterpillar won’t eat it– she cares it just like she cares m.

even though amah is grumpy toward m (she knows since day one that m is hiding something from her), she still loves and cares for him.

“sons got the assets and daughter got the cancer”

i want to hug ma so bad. she is the most hardworking one between amah’s children yet she assumes that she never receives amah’s love. it just.. i want to hug her so bad.

and finally, the deeds.

i don’t really know about other families but mostly i reckon that this issue is really controversial. family can separate to each other because of this issue only, they highlight the importance of inherited parent’s wealth. i know it is their right to have it but neglecting the fact that their parents need their children’s time and only wanting their wealth is so sickening.

we know that m cares amah only for her deeds at the first but slowly he knows that it is not always about the deeds, it’s about cherishing the memory with her while it lasts.

it’s bearable that m is mad to know that soei is the one who got the house– i mean who doesn’t mad though if the one who got the house is the one who never helps to care about amah, never have a job and a burden to amah, even steal amah’s money. it happens commonly in asian family, my family as well. sometime i don’t really know what on their mind.

but through this, i realize that how old we are, our parents still look at us as a child. that’s why amah apprehends soei, she’s worried that if she doesn’t give soei her house then he could never solve all his problems.

but that mindset is a fatal flaw as well, by then we can see that soei only rely to his mother. he could never stand on his own. i’m relieved that m scolds for him even though soei is much older than him.

conclusion and rating from me, rai,

it’s worth to watch, at least once in a lifetime. you can always rewatch it though but beware running out of your eyecream because it really makes your eyes swollen right after you leave the cinema.

cherish everyone in your life while it lasts. don’t be so bitter to people, sometimes they need help but they are afraid to reach you out.

lastly, it’s a solid nine out of ten.

[takenbypeter]

Helllloo!! I absolutely love your Todd stories. Could I request a self care day with Todd? He's very stinky so I would love to help him. I love all of your stories, and I would be so grateful if you wrote for him!

Self Care Day

Todd Tolansky x reader

Words: 519

“Face sheets, what’s that?” Asked the green tinted boy. He agreed to do a self care day with you, of course without knowing what it meant exactly. 

“You’ll find out, just come with me.” You instructed holding your hand out towards Todd who he was more than happy to take it.

Guiding him to your bathroom you hold out a fluffy headband for him to take and he watches as you put your own on.

He tried to do the same as you, placing the headband over his hair that was still wet from his bath earlier, you reach over pulling his bangs out from the headband. And then dove your arm into your drawer to pull out a variety of sheet masks. 

“I have honey, good for nourishing and moisturizing, pomegranate, for firming and antioxidants, and green tea for refreshing and pore cleansing. Which one do you want?”

He looked between his options, his face unsure, “which one do you want?”

“Hmm,” you turned them back towards you reading all the descriptions before pulling out the green one, “green tea.”

“Then me too?” You shot him a smile while he returned it with his own goofy twist. 

Pulling out another green tea you handed it to him. And he watched you again, copying your movements as you ripped the top portion off and pulled the sheet out. 

Unfolding the sheet you look in the mirror and lay it on your face, gently pressing the sides down with your fingers until it’s well rested against your skin. Then you turned to him. He was staring at the open sheet in his hand looking a bit confused. 

“Here.”

Spreading the sheet out, you hand it to him again, “hold it like this in front of your face.” He does as instructed while you hold onto his wrists and push them back until it reaches his face. 

With gentle hands you push it to his skin, watching closely and making sure you press every part. You’re so focused on making sure it sits right that you don’t notice the way he’s staring at you with his lovesick eyes. 

“How does that feel?” You ask once done. 

“Good. Cold but good.”

You begin to grin before you straighten your face, your hands going up to fix your own mask, “don’t make me smile.”

It was at that moment that Toad noticed something about your mask, “it’s a cat,” he pointed out before looking in the mirror, “a panda.” He said after viewing himself. He stood staring at his reflection, finding this all actually hilarious. 

“Now we wait for about twenty minutes then we can take it off.”

“Twenty minutes? That’ll take forever.”

“It’s shorter than you think, trust me.”

He stood in silence, doubting your words while you grabbed onto his arm, “c’mon let’s go do something while we wait.” 

And together you went off to find a way to pass the time quicker. Although Toad didn’t care much for this self care day, he did care for you and honestly he’d do anything for you because man was that boy whipped. 

[h2llish]

ミ ˖ ✧ from the beginning

notes ─── happy birthday lil bro @nervo-cat ! mwah mwah. finished this two months early. don't you just love me. (i was excited)

ELLIOTT ─ pining for something more.

warnings! fluff, male reader, mutual pining, lowercase intended

moving to stardew valley ─ you hadn't expected a lot of things. the state your grandfather's farm was in, the difficulty that came with farming, the monsters that lived in the mines, the junimos that gathered in the old community center ─ so many things were new, unexpected, odd.

moving off to a small town to immediately start up a farm that once belonged to your grandfather ─ a farm that hadn't been touched in quite some time ─ was a bit of an impulsive decision, you knew that. but your grandfather had paved as much of a path as he could on his deathbed so that settling in to your ─ soon-to-be ─ normal (when if you chose to accept) would be at least, a bit, easier on you.

but despite you having only known the city and a boring desk job, you hadn't expected the change to be so bold. perhaps that was naivety or just plain excitement on your part, but you truly didn't realize that the change from city to small town was going to be such an experience. (a good or bad one, you were still trying to decide). ─ and although your mother did warn you, you had been quick to brush her off with the response; if your grandfather could do it, so could you! but you really should've heeded her warning more, and prepared yourself, well, more (mentally ─ in terms of objective preparedness, you were quite fine).

you struggled at first, finding it difficult to adjust to farming as a new way of earning money, so different from sitting at a desk and typing into a computer. but eventually, you found yourself enjoying, not only your new way of life, but the town itself and the people there too.

the unexpectedness of it all became welcome ─ you'd found yourself making friends with the people in the valley, joining in traditions, and sharing meals with people occasionally. (you'd even found yourself with a cat who loved napping near the barn, and enjoyed chin scratches every morning before you went off to do your errands.)

another thing that was so unexpected about your new life, was the aspiring writer living in a small cabin on the beach. ─ elliott was kind and welcoming, he became a person you aimed to befriend quickly. you'd learned a lot about him over time; how he used duck feathers to make new quills, and he liked to comb the beach for new objects, and he loved crab cakes and pomegranates.

the closer you became with elliott, the more you enjoyed his presence. you'd give him gifts; pomegranates from your trees in the fall, and beach finds you'd discover under the sand, or crab cakes you made just for him because you knew he loved them. you'd created a new stop to your errand runs into town, making a point to visit the beach to see elliott, or run into him just before he left his cabin to say hello and maybe make short conversation.

before you knew it, he was a part of your routine, and anytime you missed a moment with him or you were too busy to make a quick stop at the beach to wave hello, your day would feel odd ─ or rather, not complete would be a better way to explain it.

you like to think (or maybe hope) that perhaps elliott felt the same way. that maybe his day wouldn't feel quite the same if you didn't make that regular visit throughout the day to see him, to say hi or give him a new gift. that perhaps he might look forward to seeing you as much as you looked forward to seeing him

"thank you for completing my request, [name]." lewis said as he handed you the bag of gold. you smiled, only half-listening to him as he went on some rant about the slimes in the mines and a pair of his pants being ruined.

you pulled off the bag on your shoulder to drop the gold into, but as you did, you caught sight of the duck feather safely tucked to the side, and you were reminded of your failed trip to elliott this morning. you'd found yourself so busy that the feather in your bag was pushed to the back of your mind.

you noted the time of day, and decided that elliott was probably at the beach, walking along the pier or getting ready to turn in for the night.

"well," you said, finally tuning back in to the mayor's rambling, and cutting him off, "i have to get going, bye, lewis."

"right, have a good night, then!"

you waved a lazy hand as you closed the door behind you, skipping a few steps as you quickly started on the path to the beach.

elliott was on his way back to the cabin for the night, already halfway into the door as you stepped onto the beach to find him.

"elliott!" you called, and the writer paused, turning to you as you smiled at him, stopping just before the door. "hi."

he returned your smile with that familiar gentle turn of his lips that you so enjoyed seeing, "hello, [name]."

you quickly turned to your bag, pulling out the feather still in as much of a good shape as it could be placed in your bag. you held it out for him with a bit of sheepish smile, "for you," elliott took the feather carefully, examining it as you explained, "i meant to give it to you earlier but i was pretty busy."

"i did see you running around in a hurry," he hummed, chuckling softly, "thank you, this would make for a lovely quill." he stepped back into the cabin, and you clutched your strap of your bag, wishing you could've talked longer (and you curse how busy you were, but you suppose it was also your own fault, for forgetting about the feather).

"goodnight, [name]."

"oh, yeah, goodnight," you quickly replied, adding just before he could close the door, "see you tomorrow."

he paused again, and smiled, and maybe you were imagining, the way his face flustered, but you had no time to think about that as he returned your words, a giddy feeling rising in your chest. "see you tomorrow."

you realize your attention and feelings towards elliott might not have been so discreet as the letter sitting in your mailbox gave way.

a bouquet to elliott? to become something more than just friends, more than just someone you gave gifts to and visited every day because he was someone you always thought about. ─ would elliott accept it? would he return your feelings and accept becoming more than what you were.

you suppose to know the answer to that would be to give him the bouquet.

you don't quite know what the perfect time would be ─ that morning after a visit to the general store, or when you stopped by during the night before you head back to the farm. or maybe when you ran into him during your errands, as you often did. ─ overthinking would get you nowhere, you knew that. but given the topic for the reason of your anxious second thoughts, you think you should be given a pass just this once.

buying the bouquet was the (you hope) beginning to something more, and the interactions it gained as you made your way to the beach was both helpful in giving you confidence, while adding more anxiety to your plate.

upon reaching the beach, you seen him on the pier, in conversation with willy. he didn't see you, his back turned your way, and you were thankful for that as you mustered up the courage to approach him.

it was willy who seen you first, his face shown surprise, before he excused himself from his conversation with elliott. you didn't hear whatever excuse or reason he might've given the writer before he walked off to give you privacy, far too focused on what you were going to say.

"elliott," you said, and the blond man turned to you, he looked ready to greet you, but he remained silent as he noticed the bouquet in your hands. at his stunned expression, you cleared your throat, and held out the flowers, "would you..?" you didn't finish your question, finding it difficult to say anything. you weren't even sure what you were going to say; forgetting everything you'd planned in your head now that you're faced with him. ─ ah, well, way to go [name].

"i didn't know you felt the same." ─ well, maybe you didn't just ruin it. ─ you looked up at him as he took the bouquet from your hands, his face flushed pink as held the flowers to his chest. you were stunned for a moment unable to say anything more. "i feel the same way, i want to get more serious with you too."

with restraint, you tried not to show your excitement through yells and jumps as you grinned at him. ─ you think your experience in the valley has gotten even better.

your relationship with elliott sometimes felt surreal. ─ because now it wasn't just visits to his cabin and gifts you knew he'd enjoy; it was more. you remember all the nights at your home, when he'd stay with you, and you'd talk about your days or his new ideas for books. sometimes he'd lean against you, and you'd sit in front of the fire with a book between you as he read to you.

it was a life you'd wanted to make forever; you think.

and maybe the universe heard that wish as it came to you in the form of a letter and a tradition of a mermaid's pendant.

you don't know what led you to the beach as the rain poured down on your head and soaked you through your clothes. you were all too aware of the way your clothes stuck to you and the way your boots sunk into the sand with an unsatisfying noise. you realized this might come back to bite you, and you may just end up getting sick, but that was a thought hovering in the back of your mind as you crossed the plank bridge, you'd built yourself.

you were glad elliott was back at your house, waiting for you to come back after you'd given a half-thought-out excuse of needing to run a final errand before you could join him for the night in your routine of reading by the fire.

there a man stood, dressed in old clothing; he hardly seemed bothered by the rain that pelted down (he hardly seemed touched by it at all). your bag of gold in hand, and you don't why, but something told you to approach him. you remember him, standing in that same spot as when you stumbled across him one rainy day. he talked of an old amulet he had, that he didn't think you were ready for.

you are now, you think, if the amulet is what you're looking for, and you hope he agrees.

and he does, with five thousand gold lesser in your pocket, you held the pendant with a care and admiration in your eyes. would elliott accept it? you certainly hope so.

the rain hardly bothered you as much as it did when you left the house, now with a feeling of excitement and a little anxiousness in your chest. you don't know when you'll ask ─ but you hope it would be during a time most perfect for the both of you.

when you reached the door to your house, you hid the pendant behind your back, deciding you'd place it safely in your nightstand where he wouldn't see it. ─ although you didn't exactly plan for the moment you stepped inside, and elliott was there to meet you, worrying over the way you were soaked to the bone.

"you rushed out so quickly i didn't have time to give you a coat!" he sighed, while you remained at the door with your hands behind your back and soaking the entrance mat.

you smiled almost sheepish as he wrapped a towel around your shoulders, "sorry, it was important."

"so important, you'd risk getting sick?" he asked, drying off your hair with such care, frowning and rambling about you being impulsive.

"yes." you answered, perhaps a bit too quickly as he paused, and the pendant felt heavier in your hand as he continued to look at you with that worried expression. "it was, really important."

"i can understand if it was important but you need to be more careful!" he scolded, "what if you get sick? you really worried me, running out into the rain like that, without a coat and..."

he was right about you being impulsive, as the plan for such perfect timing was lost to you when you held out the pendant and he trailed off in his words.

drenched from the rain, and shrugging off the chill that ran over your skin, a towel on your head, you realize you probably could've waited a little longer. but the way he worried over you only made you more aware of the pendant you hid behind you and the plans you'd been making in your head for how you were going to propose to him became lost.

"i'm sorry, for worrying you," you said, "but it was really important that i get this. you mean a lot to me, and i probably could've planned this better, but," ─ you smiled, a little awkward and trying not to shiver under the feeling of cold and wet clothes sticking to your skin. "would you..?"

words became lost to you after that as elliott took the pendant from you. his smile was wide, and he was visibly flustered, "i accept."

you would've hugged him, but you were made aware of your state when you shivered and sneezed.

elliott chuckled, and sighed, "maybe you should get out of these wet clothes."

"yeah," you cringed, smile almost embarrassed. (ah, well, you brought this on yourself.)

your actions had consequences, as you woke the next morning with a cold. but you don't regret anything, not when your boyfriend, your fiancé, wore the pendant around his neck as he decided he'd help you get back to better health, with promises to check on the animals in the barn and coop so you didn't worry (and you think you can used to this).

you hadn't expected for things to go the way they did when you moved to the valley ─ to find a routine in the writer who lived in a cabin on a beach. to call him your lover when you were told of the bouquet in a letter. and to run out into the rain so that the writer could lay beside you with a book in hand and a pretty pendant that showed the start of something more to your life in the valley.

but regardless, you held no complaints to it all.

do not repost, translate, copy or run my writing through ai

[astral-cookiery]

Woah! A new writer :0 Welcome and hello! :D

Can I request headcanons/short fic (pick whatever you want!) with Dark Cacao Cookie or Red Velvet? In which Reader decided to braid their absolutely lovely long hair.. thank you!

Hello and thank you for the welcome!

Loved this request~ It took me a little bit to think about!

I'm an overachiever and wanted to do both of them too

Hehehe...

Red Velvet x Reader

You were down in the Cake Factory with Red Velvet, helping him oversee the growth of the Cake Army. You were watching the oven, making sure the tray would be taken out on time. Red Velvet wasn't watching so vigilantly, instead mixing more batter.

He uttered curses to himself, huffing in irritation. looking over, you noticed his hair was disheveled, falling in front of his face and obscuring his vision while mixing. His hands were covered in cake batter, making it so he couldn't get it out of his face.

You shook your head slightly, turning your attention to the oven. It would be some time until the tray was ready to be removed from the oven.

You focused your eyes on the appliance, your back turned as he kept grumbling to himself. You snickered at his predicament, covering your mouth to muffle the sound. Yeah, you should probably stop standing there and do something. A few beats of silence passed, the only sound being that of the oven's flames.

"...I can braid your hair out of your face if you want." You offered offhandedly, not looking back at him. That might've pissed him off more, and you didn't exactly want his anger directed toward you.

Instead, you only received a sigh for an answer. "Make it quick." He muttered.

You walked over, standing behind him. Moving carefully, you pulled his hair out of his face, then started parting it, your hands moving as delicately as possible. Red Velvet Cookie set the oversized spoon he was using to mix the batter down, now just resting his arms against the counter.

Slowly, as if trying to be subtle, Red Velvet started leaning into your hands. Of course, you noticed right away, the extra weight making it harder to work, but it was kind of cute, so you didn't mention it. It was like his inner cake hound had come out, seeing how he was acting like one.

It was comfortably quiet now, as opposed to the pressing silence from before. Apparently, braiding his hair had the secondary, unintended effect of calming him down.

"Is this what you do when you're unattended?" Pomegranate Cookie said in an impassive tone. You jumped, and you both glared at her simultaneously. Since you were almost done braiding his hair, you quickly tied it so that the braid wouldn't fall apart, then stepped away. "It's not like we were doing anything weird. I was just braiding his hair so it stayed out of his way." You defended, turning to pull the tray out of the oven.

Pomegranate huffed, brushing your comment off. Before she could make any further comment, however, a wave of Cake Hound Puppies was unleashed onto the room, filling the air with yips and barking. Pomegranate got the hell out of there, leaving you and Red Velvet as you were mauled, and you both went down in a pool of hounds and giggles.

Apparently, cake hounds were an excellent Pomegranate repellent.

Dark Cacao x Reader

Dark Cacao Cookie has been stressed lately, all of the pressure on him causing him to push exhaustion. In other words, he has not slept in two days, and he is concerning those around him.

"Come on~ Please?" You asked again. Unfortunately for him, you were one of his most persistent servants in the kingdom.

He sighed, trudging through a deeper drift. He lacked any energy required to argue with you right now. It appeared that his tactic to get you off his back (Aka losing you in the snow) was not working as he had hoped.

Before you were able to badger him any more on the topic, he finally gave you an answer that wasn't silence. "For a short period of time, fine."

You cheered triumphantly, then continued panting as you jumped through the snow. How on earthbread were you keeping pace with him? Neither he or you could say. "If you walk through my tracks, it is less tiring to walk through the snow." He advised, setting his path back towards the castle.

You took the advice, and found it easier to keep up on the long trek back.

‗=‗=‗=‗=‗

Evening had come, taking the light of day with it by the time you had returned to the castle, your clothing coated in ice. If Dark Cacao was at all bothered by the cold, he didn't show it at all.

You had quickly retreated to your room for a change of clothes, then found him in the throne room, now without the heavy armor and cape. You followed him to his quarters, standing by as he took a seat on the edge of his bed.

Internally triumphing, you kneel behind him, and tackle the task of dividing his hair into parts, making sure to be gentle.

Dark Cacao hummed, closing his eyes. "I enjoy your presence, [Name]." He commented. You sort of froze for a second, entirely unsure of what to say. What do you say in that case?

"I'm aware you do, too. You're one of the most persistent cookies I've ever seen, I'm sure you'll be a great warrior one day." It was probably the lack of sleep making him like this, because any other day he wouldn't have said anything even close to that.

Soon after, he starts slouching, and you quirk an eyebrow slightly. "Your highness?.." You mumble softly. Did he really?..

You quickly realized that yes, he did indeed just doze off while sitting upright.

Sighing, you finish braiding his hair, making sure that the intricate braid wouldn't slip out in his sleep with a rubber band.

Huffing quietly, you help him properly lay in bed, then quickly sneak off, the door quietly shutting behind you as he was left to sleep.

(I'd like to imagine that you sat guard outside his door to keep visitors away until he woke up, then slipped away before he knew you were there, but that doesn't have to be so if you don't want it to be.)

Put him to bed like a child. Great success.

[vidavalor]

The latest wackiness from my brain:

Do you reckon the Ineffables (knowing every language in the world, as they do) would take an interest in research into deciphering ancient languages and scripts (e.g. Linear A, Indus Valley script, Etruscan), possibly writing anonymous letters to various relevant publications with subtle hints/nudges, or coded puns/innuendo that only they'd understand, or both?

Rome, 41 CE, the morning after: Aziraphale sprawled on a couch, munching grapes, while a blissfully melty puddle of snek is draped over his torso. Crowley: I don't wanna gooooo... Aziraphale: But if anyone catches us... Crowley: Don't want to think about reporting in... Wanna stay here an' have more oysters... Aziraphale: [raised-eyebrow facial expression filled with enough innuendo to sink a trireme] (and yes, my choice of opening line for Crowley was entirely deliberate >:D Mwahaha!)

A customer in GMC/GMD with a slight problem with the concept of 'indoor voice' is speculating about the appearances and present-day activities of the Angel of the Eastern Gate and the Serpent, and being wildly off-base about it, when Az and Crowley walk in arm-in-arm, trying not to giggle about how wrong the person is. Nina catches sight of their expressions, puts a lot of things together very quickly and if anything has to work even harder to avoid busting out laughing; the Ineffables therefore have to place their order via sign language

One of the most surreal images yet from my brain -- Good Omens in the Aardman Animations stop-motion style! So far, I've got the wall-of-Eden scene, steely-badass!Az in the Battle of the Bookshop, and Az talking to the Metatron in S1...

I love your brain. 🤗 I just went grocery shopping so there are all the snacks. You know where everything is in the kitchen, my dear. 💕

1-- For sure, though, also just openly bashing the stupidity, too. You know that Crowley lives to troll the websites of religious zealots posting challenges to their dummkoffery.

2-- Ah, the first night of many, many ones of being together in the night and gone by dawn to avoid being caught, as immortalized by "William Shakespeare" 😉...

Juliet: Will thou be gone? It is not yet near day/It was the nightingale and not the lark/That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear/Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree/Believe me, love, it was the nightingale...

Romeo: It was the lark, the herald of the morn/No nightingale... I must be gone and live or stay and die.../Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content, so thou wilt have it so.

3 & 4-- *giggles* Very cute images! Nina strikes me as one who could probably handle the truth. The most adept is totally Mrs. Sandwich, though. Completely unflappable, that one. She already thinks of them as angels as it is so it wouldn't even be stretching the truth.

(TW: rape mention below).

It's just truly statistically amazing how many of the clients of her establishment who tried to take advantage of her or her girls in any way just seem to meet with unfortunate accidents after she kicked them out... I can't be alone in thinking that Crowley & Aziraphale are the mysterious, "robbery"-avenging angels known as The Agony Aunts from Pratchett's Discworld, can I?

Maybe so but, say, actively facilitating them being sent to Hell by way of putting them directly in the path of guillotine-wielding humans is an example of quite a good little workaround for that rule, know what I mean?

A few of Mrs. Sandwich's tossed out customers just didn't see that somehow perpetually loose cobblestone right next to the river on the way home. What a shame.

I hear there's a writer those agony aunts are targeting next.

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

rape tw (implied)

Then, at the worst time, they met again.

It was only days after Vivec had shaved hir head-- months after the thing in the desert, the thing that ze had not yet named and could not stop thinking of. Ze was still in a fog in those days, going about as if hir face was held under deep water. The tragedy had rendered the world unreal and pale as hir own violated body; ze was like a ship whose anchor-line had been snapped, all ze could do was drift. Ze prowled a lot, walking up and down the streets of Mournhold with no particular direction and no particular hope. So it was a hot day, a muggy summery day, and ze was foggier than usual, wandering up one of Mournhold's wealthiest streets, a hand on Muatra and sweat beading over hir bare head, when ze saw her.

The Daedric Prince had stopped to rest under a Moril tree. She was pretending not to notice Vivec; she held a piece of paper and she read furtively. Her scant clothing left her hard, brown body bared to the warm air, and she had only four limbs: two wiry arms, two long bare-thigh legs. But her eyes betrayed her, always betrayed her-- when Vivec drew towards her she looked up and her eyes, red as pomegranates, narrowed.

She said nothing when Vivec approached her. Her hands, dyed black, twitched against the parchment. She watched with quiet curiosity as Vivec came to a stop only a feet from her, and those bloody eyes darted only briefly to the spear.

"Mephala," said Vivec.

The daedroth blinked once but said nothing.

"Do you remember me?"

"Hm…"

She cocked her head, her dark hair fell loose before her face. The shadow dappled her-- it suited her-- she was oddly real, for a dream.

"Ah, yes." Her lips twitched upwards. "The netchiman's wife."

A chill went through Vivec, who had felt nothing in what seemed to be months. The water over hir mind grew thicker; ze twisted Muatra in hir hands and the movement caught Mephala's eyes.

"Vivec," ze said. "I'm Vivec now."

That bloody gaze went back to hir face.

"No," Mephala's judgement came at once, "Still the wife, I'm afraid."

"I shaved my head. They call me he. I am no-one's wife. I stopped being her."

The corners of Mephala's mouth raised-- Vivec remembered, as if from a million years ago, the fangs behind those lips, and the cool taste of her tongue. Ze had to take it as proof. The netchiman's wife had never kissed her, only Vehk, and yet--

"What do you want, wife of no-one?"

Her hands, too, would be cool and metallic, if Vivec were to grab them. Those inked-black palms always seemed vampiric, drawing energy from other people's skin. Vivec found hirself staring at them-- hir own hands on Muatra hot-- hir head swam in water, in the heat of the day, in the horror of it.

Mephala sighed. Her letter disappeared inside her tunic and she slipped off of the tree like a shifting shadow.

Then she was by Vivec, as cool as she'd been when ze was just fourteen, and she even smelled the same. Her hand, too, was cold despite the heat of the day, and her claw-sharp fingernails pierced through the fog of hir head with barely a graze against hir cheek.

She cupped Vivec's face and turned it upwards and then those eyes were the world. Hir own blood, the juice of pomegranates, the red of a desert sunset, the violent passion of the worst thing that had ever happened.

Those eyes engulfed hir and in one blazing-head moment of clarity Vivec realised that Mephala was very sad.

"Didn't I teach you how to survive your marriages?"

She asked it, and then she released Vivec, with no answer expected. Vivec blinked-- ze stepped back into the sunlight and it hurt-- but Mephala, too, had stepped forwards, out of her place in the shade, and for the very first time Vivec realised that she was a mortal woman. She was black-hands Mephala with the blazing eyes, ally of Molag Bal; she was a hard-bodied mortal woman with tattooed palms and scars that ran as deep as Vivec's own. She'd seen into hir. And she'd been sad.

The water came back-- Vivec walked on-- and it was only later that ze began to think of it as hir marriage. That violent thing in the desert. And only the netchiman's wife remembered why.

[vlovann]

People think Satanism is a “cult”, but don’t know that it’s one of the most humane, recognized religions you could be a part of in the USA. People think paganism, Hellenism, and Ásatrú are cults, but these practices religions are entirely nature-based and older than most Abrahamic religions.

Note how people calling anything other than Abrahamic religions a “cult” are usually Christians (I use as an umbrella term, I know they’re different, I don’t care in this context). And Christians who don’t respect and protect sex workers are not real Christians, Christians who wish ill or worse on queer people, indigenous people, disabled people and people of color are not real Christians. Because in the religion itself, it states that Jesus was chill with those people.

Don’t forget the erasure and reframing that went into feeding these ideas. Christianity wiped out so much information, so they could paint a negative picture. For all we know, what we know about Vikings could be a twisted lie. A lot of what we know comes from the people who did the erasing, who still do a lot of manipulation today.

Note how they’re not supposed to have temples or idols according to their own religion, but churches are more common than McDonald’s around every corner. That they have depictions of a corpse all around them and a false depiction of their “savior” in every painting where his skin doesn’t nearly match the shade it should be. That, religions and practices who have had temples for millennia, now have nowhere to go. Remember where “Christmas” really comes from. Christmas really should be in July because Jesus’ birthday is in the summer.

Jól is the true holiday of winter. Jól is NOT Christmas. It is Yule. One of the deities associated would be Óðinn and Villta Veiðin (the wild hunt). There is Jólakötturinn (the Yule Cat), Grýla and Jólasvenarnir (The Yule Lads and their mother). There is the Yule Log that you keep burning for the whole holiday (12 days long) in remembrance of the sun during the dark winter. There is the dried orange that represents the wheel of the year or the holiday calendar.

There is the pomegranate that represents the story of Hades and Persephone in Greek mythology.

Don’t even get me started on how there are entirely different ancient calendars for both of these regions that, geographically, make way more fucking sense than the Gregorian calendar. Each month with their own lost names and associations and holidays dedicated to their climate and gods.

Don’t get me started on reusing sacred runes (and letters of the Elder Futhark) and symbols meant for family, protection, luck and prosperity and the home to justify committing genocide.

If a group of people took my family and erased who they were, what they believed in, gave them to a priest to brainwash and do whatever or worse, killed them because they believed in “old” deities, I think I would want to start working with war deities too and pillage and plunder in the name of Freyja. What the Anglo-Saxons called raiding, the Norsefolk might have called Justice. What do you call the things people in power today make up about people just trying to live their lives in peace? This is no different.

As a polytheist, I believe Abrahamic religions are real to those who follow the way it was intended, especially about peace, but I choose not to believe in them. My positive energy will not serve them, I do not want to empower them any more than they already are. Even if some deities might be more sane than their “followers”. I will not associate with any of it. I cut contact with Jesus a long time ago and the only remnant of that part of my life is knowing he, the way he was, respects that and leaves me the hell alone.

Frankly, I cower in fear of no god, nor spirit, malicious or benevolent. Would I challenge them? Depends if they’re disrespectful or known to be. I do tell malicious presences to fuck off in their general direction cuz I don’t wanna deal with the bs. Do I disrespect them? Depends again if they’re disrespectful, but I do take note of deities who might be more serious in practice and who isn’t if I choose to follow them.

The real danger is a bigoted human and death follows the gathering of many because hate is their religion. The real danger is men; historically true for men, women, and queer people alike. Bigotry as a concept and the existence of rape in any category from anyone needs to be eradicated. Not a true, harmless identity or group of people.

[d-a-r-l-i-i-n-g]

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚞𝚗 ꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄

Comfort/fluff

You were bored, after coming back from the purgatory hall, you were hanging out with Luke decorating cupcakes with him, scrolling through Devitube on your D.D.D, you came across these stunning paper flowers, it was a tutorial, so you tried it out taking out some old art supplies you didn't use anymore you got to work.

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Lucifer ࿐ྂ

He was in his office doing some work, he had a shitty day constant arguments with Satan and belphie more work from Diavolo, he felt as if his head was going to explode (poor peepaw), you, on the other hand, felt bad, Lucifer seemed extremely stressed, and yes even though it was normal and even though belphie and satan made you join the 'anti-lucifer club' you still couldn't help but feel bad, so you decided to give your flower to him, sadly you knew that it wouldn't take away the shit load of work, knocking a rhythm on the door, you heard a tired "Enter." behind the entrance, opening the door your hair falls in front of your complexion, peeking in you flash the black haired demon a nervous smile. "Ahh, Mc it's so good to see you, what brings you here?" smirking Lucifer leans back, his stray hairs going in all directions, you could tell he was tired just by seeing the bags under his crimson-red eyes, "Here sit." pointing to the chair in front of his desk he motions you to sit down. "Can I get you some tea?" looking up you shake your head "No, it's okay Luci, you sit down and relax, okay?" smiling you look down in your hands placing the paper flower on his desk, "Here, I made this for you." he lifted an eyebrow, taking the paper rose in his gloved hand, looking at the paper rose you made him, he smiled softly, it's a smile you don't get to see much only when you two are alone, or sometimes he is happy with his brothers. "thank you..mc, I'll cherish this, forever, come here." he motioned for you to sit on his lap, as you sat down he placed his arm around you, you leaned on his chest, the smell of pomegranate, and expensive wine clouding your mind, closing your eyes you two sat there, comforted by each others company.

↳˳;; ❝ Mammon ᵕ̈೫˚∗

"Stupid Levi calling me names." walking to his room with his hands in his pocket the white messy-haired demon quibbled to himself about the harsh treatment he got from his brother, upon entering his room, he sat down on his bed and scrolled through his D.D.D, his unhappy expression not leaving his face, after a while he heard a knock before an annoying sigh could leave his mouth he heard a sweet voice coming from the other side. "Mammon, it's me Mc." his eyes gleamed a bit, and he walked to his door to open it for you, he watched as you went into his room walking behind you, he leaned on the pool table, and your hands were behind your back hiding the yellow paper rose you had made for him. "alright..what are ya hidin' behind your back?" he tilted his head to the side looking at you with suspicion, you looked down on the floor, anxious to give him this paper rose, why are you nervous? You thought to yourself, I mean I've known him for quite a while I shouldn't be nervous I'm not always nervous in front of him- "Yo Human?." mammon snapped his fingers in front of you, seizing you out of your thoughts, "i-um I made you this rose." you let out, as you showed it to him, you could see his eyes had slowly widened, "I know it's not an expensive gift..but I know the others treat you like crap and today it's really gotten to your head, so I wanted to make this rose for you." you tried to explain, your heart felt like it had exploded honestly, mammon gaze was on yours, I don't think I've left mammon that speechless before..you thought, chuckling in confusion, he held the rose in his hand gently, "For me? Seriously?" he gaped at the paper rose in awe, it was enchanting it had such small details, to him this rose had more worth than any of the expensive items he had in his room, feeling a slight blush form on his cheeks, opening his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Mammon pulled you into a hug, your eyes were a little wide and cheeks a bit red but you leaned into his comforting hold.

.·:*¨༺Levi༻¨*:·.

Levi always felt insecure, but today he felt even worse, for some reason his mind just wanted to tournament him, it annoyed him he just wanted to play his games but he couldn't, everything was so difficult when his thoughts were loud, so there he was slumped on his chair, wearing his headset, his game console was in his hand, the blue light from his tank illuminated on his face that had a soft frown on it, hearing a knock, he fixed his posture, "Come in.." *he groaned a bit, you entered the room, you hand was behind your back, the pale demon flashed you a warm smile, feeling a bit better by your presence, you could tell by his face something was a bit off, "what's wrong?" you asked making your way to his bathtub and leaning on it, "Nothing, it's just one of those days you know, mind is all over the place." he replied leaning back on his chair, his eyes were now glued on the ceiling, "You know you can speak to me.." you said as you tilted your head to the side, he didn't say anything, feeling bad you took out the orange paper-rose, looking down on it, he shifted his gaze to the rose, blinking a couple of times, "Eh? What's that?" he got up looking at the paper rose, you smiled a bit, placing the flower on his desk, "I made it for you..." his eyes slowly widened, taking the rose in his hand, he looked at it, it was gorgeous, he could feel himself get emotional, a blush crept up on his complexion, his gaze flickerd to the rose and back to your kind ones, you chuckled softly, taking his other gaming console, "I heard a new game came out, do you wanna play it?" still in a little shock he places the rose on the desk taking his gaming controller and nodding his head, you two spent the entire night playing video games, and talking about each others problems, needless to say Levi feels better when he is around you.

umm ik that i only did the older brothers, im sorry if u wanted to see all of them, this idea is kinda sweet kinda boring? Idk, if someone likes this thats cool. Buy i like it :D

Update: I should've read through this cus there were a lot of spelling mistakes..the fact I use Grammarly too..well I've fixed them now-

[duraxxor]

Azerite. I'm dying to know how he reacts to that in his drink. - Azalora

There was a time back in the era of the Fourth War where Duraxxor was known as the Faceless under an organization that he followed alongside Malakortana and later when Myotis was once a group name. This was some time after his second death. He came into contact with the very substance you speak of. Azerite. In all its brilliance, never would he had thought to have come in contact with crystallized blood of the very planet. This world was far more living than it was a husk of elements and magical leylines.

And Duraxxor, being as he is particularly drawn to blood would partake in an experiment. He obtained the liquified version of the element. Various tests showed that it wasn't poisonous at first glance. In fact, what was bizarre was how this essence brought about some of the greater things in people, for better or worse. There was a page in a journal that the Lord had recorded in this experiment as follows.

" When I drank of her blood, I didn't know what I was expecting. The mixture seemed to possess the distinct taste of pomegranate for me. Which was practically impossible as I couldn't even remember what sort of thing it tasted like. And then, it hit me. I felt an energy sizzle through my veins as it worked its through my absorption. It was spectacular. My new -arm- finally felt as though it were truly a part of my body. And my mind began to race with ideas. Ideas that didn't follow a path of domination. No. Ideas that would possess freedom... " - Azerite entry 1

But his deeds wouldn't end there as he would later experiment with Azerite in a similar manner, but he would drink of it as a concentrate rather than a mixture of sanguine fluid.

" The lifeblood of Azeroth has many, potential uses but mine seems more aligned with using it more like a catalyst. I could still feel the effects from before. A high that reinforced my mind. It was like a drug. I felt much like the Wretched coming off of it before. And yet, I didn't degrade. So, I am going to try a concentrate of it. "

" At first, it was similar to the previous encounter. But like a blazing campfire, my stomach was lit aflame with a billowing warmth. It radiated all throughout my body, my veins appeared to have been fissures through my skin. I thought in a brief panic, I thought I had ingested too much. That was, until the golden hues with cyan undertones suddenly shifted, turning a sanguine brilliance in the palm of my hands. I felt... joy. My imagination running wild as the smile on my face solidified. I was in high spirits and my mind was thinking ahead of itself at a speed I wasn't used to. I felt as though I could tear down the walls of Orgrimmar with my strength. "

" Deep inside the core of my being, I felt a shift like no other. As if my body was merely an extension of what and who I was. Like it was a separate entity from the soul of my being. And something took shape in that small pocket. A core. An engine. Ever since, my existence has been altered, and my evolution progressed in a way that I didn't even think possible. It was glorious. " - Azerite Entry 23

And that was the last time Duraxxor had come in contact with Azerite in such a way. It brought this amazing feeling within him and even altered his history forever. If it wasn't for Azerite, he may have never left stagnation or even followed the path he went. And even now, Azerite seems to be peeking back into his life through a certain dragoness that fatefully met him in Silithus one day.

[[ Tagging @azalora-the-azerite-dragoness and @sanguinesorceress for continuity. I would also like to tag @miah-ambershade @gravekeeper-anna and if I missed anyone that is active, I apologize, for the connections with those organizations mentioned. ]]