#Quality hot beverages

[twilightakiishi]

takiishi chika is not a simple man.

he’s hard to figure out. you can’t read him, hardly anybody can, and it makes it difficult to find things you share interest in. the first one is obvious— each other. otherwise, you wouldn’t be sitting across from him every morning, sharing his space. especially not over coffee.

every morning, without fail, a piping hot cup of black coffee will bring him from an impending threat to society, to whatever one peg lower than that is.

you don’t speak much in the morning, but he allows— or maybe enjoys— you to sit across from him with your coffee and breakfast. it’s peaceful, and quiet, if you’re comfortable being stared at. 

he watches curiously as you dip a thumbprint cookie into your cup and take a bite, washing it down afterwards. when you pull the mug back down, your eyes meet his inquisitive ones. tilting your head at him, you glance down to the other half of your cookie, placing it on a napkin and sliding it over to him with a soft smile. he stares at it, hesitating, before he mimics you. 

he blinks as he chews, and glances at you a few times, not used to being the one stared at. you avert your gaze so he feels like he has some room to breathe, and when you glance back up at him, he’s licking his lips. his expression doesn’t change, but you’re quite certain you know him well enough to gather that he liked it. 

your assumption is confirmed the next time you drag him along with you to the grocery store, when he disappears for five minutes only to return with a box of the cookies in his hand. and when you ask him a few weeks later what he wants from the grocery store, they’re the first item on his list. they run out so much faster when he’s grabbing one alongside you every morning, but you don’t mind.

not when suddenly, the two of you have another thing in common.

[dogmataleblog]

Void Update. Seems Nebula is doing a good job taking care of Killer and Blue with that take-out order.

Killer belongs to Rahafwabas; Blue belongs to Underswap.

[sanjisprincesss]

I could fall in love with you

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Synopsis: How I think the one piece men would realize they’ve got it bad for you!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Characters: Monsters trio x fem! Reader

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･cw: fluff fluff and more fluff! Sort of proofread

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ song credit: I could fall in love by Selena

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LUFFY

Realized when he started to feel even more clingy towards you.

With Luffy it’s a matter of whether or not he realizes or someone around him realizes. The minute he realizes he doesn’t hold back on his feelings and tells you immediately.

He realizes when he starts to feel a certain way when Sanji or anyone grazes at you in any other way then friendly. Which is a feeling he never really felt since in any other situation he wouldn’t care about if someone flirts or flaunts over you.

He starts to crave your attention and presence more and everyone around him will most likely notice.

You and Luffy sit on top of the head of the thousand sunny pointing out clouds shapes making stories and backgrounds to them. Watching the sunset a beautiful ray of colors and scenery cover the sky.

“Shishi that one looks like a sea cow doesn’t Y/N!” Your captain said pointing and laughing at a cloud that strangely resembled a giant sea creature. You look to where he’s pointing to see the cloud he’s mentioning. You can’t help but smile and laugh at the remembrance. “ yeah it does look like a sea cow Luffy!”

As the laughter begins to die down, Luffy with an unreadable expression turns to face you without saying a word. As you turn to face him his famous smile returns to his face “Y/N i love you so much! You know that right!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ZORO

Realized when he got a little too overprotective of you even more than he’s willing to admit.

First of all, as soon as he gets the slightest hint that he’s head over heels in love with you he’s denying it and will try to deny it as much as he is possibly able to. DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT.

Which is also why he wouldn’t confess first.

Zoro is known for being the protector of the strawhat pirates, by nature he has his hand on his swords the minute the crew is In danger. It's not that he is more protective towards you than the crew, it's more like he’s more protective of you towards others that have pertenal feelings towards you. Which once again is not really his main train of thought yk.

Of course he would never admit, but he likes to have your company near him. May it be you reading a book in the crows nest while he trains or just being near him while he’s napping.

As the sun shines on the sea and everything in its path. You Nami and Robin were sunbathing on the deck as Sanji came by with fresh drinks for the three of us. Luffy Chopper and Usopp playing around the ship while laughing with zoro training in the crows nest.

“NAMI SWANN~ Y/N CHANN~ ROBIN DEARR~ I'VE MADE YOU LOVELY LADIES SOME REFRESHING BEVERAGES! SO BEAUTIFUL I COULD JUST MELT!”

He says with hearts in his eyes placing the drinks down on a table and hanging them out one by one.

“Aye, curly brows give em a break will ya!”

And that Is all you hear form the green haired swordsman before you and your friends share a knowing glare before smiling towards which other.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ SANJI

Realized he loves you differently than he would other women…

Let’s state the obvious: Sanji loves women. It’s a known fact about him. He has felt infatuation before to the point where he thought he was in love. That infatuation died down when he found another woman who crossed his path.

But with you it’s different. His infatuation turns into something that lasts. It doesn’t fade away when someone else is around him. He lowkey turns into Mr prince.

He goes that extra mile. He’s a gentleman all around and it’s really hot. He can have a conversation with you without any kind of questionable behavior or nosebleeds. No lustful stares of any sort, no signs of dirty thoughts, just quality time with his lover.

The crew had all departed ways to follow their regular duties and routines after dinner. However you stayed after dinner to help Sanji with the kitchen while of course he always insisted that there was no need for you to worry your pretty little head.

You always insisted on helping and how could he ever say no to you. So there you two are, wasting and drying dishes. One by one.

“ I wonder what different types of fish and seasonings are in the all blue?” “What color do you think the water is there?” You ask him while drying a plate. As he passes the next dish that needs to be dried.

“The all blue hm…you know just what to ask me, don’t you? A beautiful girl like you deserves a gorgeous answer.. don’t you think?” You nod while putting the last dish away.

“Let’s see..if I had to think of a color, one that matched the idea of all the world's fish swimming together.. I’d say sky blue. A brilliant sky blue it has to be!”

[sunnimals]

3 Job Ideas for Age Regressors

I know that many regressors, like myself, need jobs. As a permaregressor (Albeit one who stays at a pre-teen age most of the time) who is physically and intellectually disabled and needs an 'easier' job, I also know it can be insanely difficult and overwhelming to work at most places. So here's a list of jobs (and their pay rates) that may not be as overwhelming, taken from interviews with people in my area and surrounding areas, when asked about people with disabilities!! This list is organized by Job Description, Potential Downsides, and Perks. These don't need an education past a High-School Diploma, though the last one requires a food-handlers' license!

Library Assistant -~$12/hour I may be biased, but my job as a Librarian is what inspired this post in the first place! My job includes simple cleaning (mopping the front/lobby area, emptying trash cans, stocking toilets with sanitary supplies), alphabetizing and organizing books and movies, and helping people check out things. Most of the time, honestly, I just sit around scrolling Tumblr. It's a very simple and easy job. I will say though that walking around a lot to do the organizing does hurt my legs and ankles if I don't sit down frequently. Other than that, it's perfect for age regressors! You can spend lots of time in the kids' area too! And job perks can include free coloring sheet printing, and my library even has an employees-only (and anyone else if they ask nicely tbh) snack and beverage bar, stocked with crackers and hot chocolate/coffee >:3 My library is very very lax!

Toy Store Worker - Up to $22/hour My local area has a toy store, and this is the description listed on their page: Cleaning and organizing the store. Helping customers find just the right gift for their loved ones. Developing and maintaining customer relationships. Ensuring that all customers leave happy. A toy store seems like the PERFECT job for a regressor, and I can imagine that it would be easy on your body too, as the most physical activity you'll do (according to a family friend who owns the Toy Store) is cleaning and helping families look for juuuust the right toy. The only downside I can really think of is that it may be loud/overwhelming to have kids come in and play with the toys all day, but if you're alright with that, it's perfect! Lots of toy stores and retail stores offer secret benefits too, like discounts or even free first picks!

Frozen Yogurt/Ice Cream Store Worker - ~$12/Hour, Food Handlers' Needed We have a super neat Fro-Yo store around my area called Sweet Frog, one of those weigh-to-pay places that you can pile toppings onto! The Job description according to Google and supported by the head manager at our local Fro-Yo place is: Frozen Yogurt Makers are responsible for preparing and serving frozen yogurt to customers, ensuring quality and consistency in the product. They maintain cleanliness, operate yogurt machines, and provide excellent customer service. According to Mrs. Head Manager, their perks include an Employee Discount on Fro-Yo, Flexible weekly hours, and an accessible and encouraging environment for many disabled workers, including one of the sweetest people I've ever met who has Down Syndrome and High-Needs Autism. They also give out free employee T-Shirts that have their super cute mascot on them!! Some downsides she mentioned might include having to stand for long periods of time, working with rowdy children, and having to clean and stock finicky machines. Also please be aware if you look into Sweet Frog that they're a heavily Christian brand, though the people I've spoken to are very accepting and sweet!

[suempu]

if you could, can you write sfw/nsfw hcs for senshi with afab reader pretty please with sprinkles and cherries on top

human reader

<3

senshi is a very reliable partner. maybe even the best. you can depend on him and he’s always happy to know that you trust him so much.

he’s very caring, will cook you food and remind you to do healthy things. senshi knows all your favorite dishes and remembers to stock up on its specific ingredients.

very good at listening whenever you’re feeling sad or stressed. he likes to make you sit on a mat and serve you warm, comfy food as he pats your head.

he’s very nice to snuggle with, he doesn’t mind being the small or big spoon, its usually up to you to decide. his head is always tucked under your chin whenever he’s the small spoon, like a giant teddy bear.

senshi’s skill is cooking so you know damn well he’s amazing with his hands. his thick fingers always stretch you out so nicely, its girth making you pleasurably tight.

he’s a service dom for sure, nothing is better than making his lover feel good.

unfortunately not much of a talker during sex, he’s a groaner and a grunter whenever he feels good, maybe even a whimper if you can catch him off guard.

his favorite position is cowgirl. loves seeing you bounce on him, your face flushed and sweaty.

aftercare is calm and fuzzy. you lay on his shoulder, nuzzling his surprisingly soft beard as he runs his hands up and down your hip and ass.

you two usually sleep it in and drink some water after.

being in a relationship with him is nothing but domestic (minus all the monster-dungeon-ey parts) senshi is mature with handling yours and his problems.

he can communicate his feelings and problems to you properly, unless its a particularly traumatic event for him.

it takes a while for him to come around but its only because he’s scared of reliving bad memories.

you two like sitting outside, cups of whatever hot beverage you prefer, while looking at the stars. you spend it talking about nothing and everything at the same time. its one of his favorite past times, spending quality time with you.

100/10 lover, he’s waiting for the right moment to propose to you

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Cocktails

"Cocktail," like many words, has evolved over time, broadening its meaning.

While it once indicated a narrow range of drinks—perhaps originally a single drink—it is now customarily used to cover nearly the full range of mixed drinks available in the bars of the world.

Purists may insist that a true cocktail include at least 3 ingredients, two of which are distilled liquor and bitters. Others may argue that any drink mixed on the spot from two or more ingredients, at least one of which is alcoholic, is a cocktail.

The first known references to drinks called cocktails come from the late 18th and early 19th centuries. At that time, alcoholic beverages were largely served in inns and public houses, and weary travelers and thirsty locals would order concoctions.

LONG DRINKS

Also known as tall drinks, are simply drinks in tall glasses with larger amounts of mixer than short drinks.

Some, like highballs, are simple and straightforward; others are complex concoctions.

What they have in common is a relaxed quality, in that they present a relatively low concentration of alcohol and, often, an easy-drinking accessibility.

SHORT DRINKS

A drink served in a tumbler or old-fashioned glass.

Since they contain a higher concentration of alcohol than long drinks, they tend to be built more for slow, deliberate sipping—but there are no hard and fast rules here.

UP DRINKS

The classic image of a cocktail: shaken or stirred with ice and served, almost always strained, in a cocktail glass.

The most elegant of the cocktails, and not only because of their presentation.

Subtle or intense, austere or rich, they tend to have distinct personalities.

SHOTS & SHOOTERS

The most recreational of cocktails.

Despite their popular image, most of them are actually rather low in alcohol; the danger of shots lies in the temptation to drink too many, too quickly. Given how delicious many of them are, that can be all too easy to do.

HOT & FROZEN DRINKS

Hot cocktails have a long history, having been used for centuries to warm chilled travelers and bar customers.

Frozen cocktails are a more recent development, but they offer a bracing kind of refreshment that is perfect for steamy summer evenings.

Some Cocktails

Classic Cocktails

Some drinks have become timeless, iconic libations of cocktail culture:

THE MARTINI Despite a myriad of variations since its first appearance in the nineteenth century, the classic Martini remains the quintessential elegant cocktail: a cool, somewhat austere drink, not showy, but certainly powerful.

THE MANHATTAN The richness and power of whiskey gives the Manhattan slightly rougher edges than the Martini. It gained prominence in the 1930s as one of the five Borough cocktails of New York.

THE OLD FASHIONED Long before Don Draper of Mad Men revived interest in this classic, adding bitters and sugar to whiskey was a mainstay of cocktail culture and one of the most basic drink preparations.

THE DAIQUIRI The classic rum cocktail, the Daiquiri was a favorite of Ernest Hemingway and John F. Kennedy, and has spawned a host of variations.

Seasonal Drinks

Though most cocktails inhabit the perpetual season known as cocktail hour, many capture—or help create—the distinct mood of each quarter of the year.

SPRING & SUMMER Light, refreshing cocktails dominate the spring. Consider such classics as slings, smashes, lemonade drinks, and colorful coolers. Go-to cocktail: a French 75 Summer is, of course, the season for clear and tropical cocktails. Fresh fruit fills the market stands, the sun pours down through long days, and a cold, sweet-and-tart drink is what you crave. While you could always go for a Gin and Tonic, for a bit more personality try one of the great Caribbean drinks—a classic Daiquiri will keep you cool.

FALL & WINTER As Keats put it, autumn is the “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,” and that vibe is what you’ll want in a cocktail. Deeper, richer drinks come to the fore. Any drink involving apple juice or apple brandy chimes with sentimental visions of autumn. Go-to cocktail: a Sidecar. When winter comes, linger over an Irish Coffee or Hot Toddy; or brace yourself against the cold with a potent whiskey drink—stay toasty warm with an Old Fashioned.

Champagne Cocktails

Occupy a distinct niche in cocktail culture.

At once colorful and elegant, festive and intimate, they lend themselves not only to romantic settings but also to expensive parties.

Source: The Ultimate Cocktail Encyclopedia by Walter Burns More Writing References: Wine-tasting ⚜ Drunkenness ⚜ Drinking

[gazstations]

Come Home, My Darling

CHAPTER ONE

ᯓᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER SUMMARY

John hardly regrets a lot of things in his life. He shouldn’t ruminate and just has to accept the choices he makes. But this one conversation, he can never shake.

♡ Chapter Warnings: Spousal fighting, Price being a bit of a prick, unresolved tension

◇ Notes: I had to add angst, guys. I love conversations that end on a bad note and then shit goes down hehe. This conversation is going to be important. Anyway, love y’all!

○●○ SERIES MASTERLIST ♡ PREV ♡ NEXT

NAVIGATION MASTERLIST

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

JOHN PRICE REGRETTED THE LAST REAL CONVERSATION HE HAD WITH YOU.

He was a man that had trouble admitting to the open air that he was faulted. He despised being told that his lust for blood and honor was infuriating. It was black mold, slipping in through the bathroom grout. The effects of his lifestyle weren't necessarily ones that presented themselves right away. Instead, years of ingesting the spores clustered into the lungs until they were taxed.

He never acknowledged how much quiet patience it took to be the spouse of a military man. His first mistake was believing his wife would always be tolerant of the life he lived.

You herded the kids to your parent’s one morning during his last official leave. He had been home for two days, and he felt the difference in the air quality. Felt a festering tension that exuded from you. He was exhausted and aching, so he ignored it.

You weren't cold, just not as upfront about your happiness to have him home.

John was bred to read people. As captain, he had to find intention in more than just superficial facial expressions. He was designed to pick up on when someone was lying - when their words didn't quite match their actions. So, he knew from the moment he woke up on day one of his leave, that there was an underlying issue within your perception of him.

John was still in the mindset of saving his skin. The whizzing of bullets echoed in his ears. The gunpowder still tickled and burned his nose hairs. He was alert, body rigid with anticipation. He checked the doors were locked ten times, he looked out the window instead of the movie William begged him to watch. He held a possessive hand over your thigh as you curled up beside him on the couch, but he wasn’t fully aware of where he was.

It always took a bit of tender love for him to come into himself again. However, you were just as distant and his mind was spiraling further into the wrong headspace.

When the kids were gone, you came home and joined him in the living room. You perched yourself away from him, finding a spot separate from him. Your spot bathed you in the golden rays of the sunrise. He found himself staring, blue eyes taking in the ethereal being before him. His eyes softened just a fraction as he took a sip of his coffee, eyes blinking at you from the rim of the mug.

“You're beau-”

“I can't do this anymore.”

John lowered the mug quickly, sloshing some liquid out onto his hand. He barely noticed the sting of the hot beverage against his weathered hands. He narrowed his eyes, analyzing you with thoughtfulness. You had him by the neck now. It didn't take much.

“Pardon?” He forced out in a low timbre.

He watched the miniscule flinch of your upper body. Your chest rose as you took a calculated breath to compose yourself. He should've been more sympathetic to the fact you had been figuring out how to approach this conversation for a long time. Yet, his age old, decietful pride took precedence at that moment.

You opened your mouth and then closed it. You were tongue-tied and he was impatient. His tether of sanity was short as of late and that’s where everything started to go downhill - when his job and personal life entwined.

“Well?” He pressed.

You found your voice. You hated when he used an authoritative voice. You liked rational conversations and being heard. It was hard to hear when his ear drums were flooded with cotton, though it had nothing to due with the fact that he was pretty sure his hearing was shot in his left ear now.

“Can I just speak my truth without you getting defensive right away?” You asked firmly.

“I'm not getting defensive,” John was quick to argue. You're proving her point. His foul mood from the last mission wasn't the slightest bit a valid reason for acting this way, but it didn't matter. He was already coiled tight. “You just did a piss poor job of starting the conversation.”

Your lips pressed into a firm line, eyes going blank as you stared at him. If he was a better man he would let a gentle apology. He didn't even know what you were going to say, but he had already drawn his own conclusions. Fucking muppet, get your head on right before you really muck up.

“No, you just don't want to face the possibility that we need to talk,” you answered.

John discarded his mug on the coffee table, crossing his arms over his chest. He fixed you with an unimpressed glare. He waved his hand in your direction. “Well, go on then,” he urged almost condescendingly.

“Can you be nice to me, John?” you pleaded softly. “I don't deserve this.”

John caved then. The despondence in your voice killed him, the way your sweet eyes downturned. He hated himself before his short circuited responses. You were not a rookie in need of correction, nor were you one of his boys. You were his wife, single-handedly the most important person in his life. You, of all people, were allowed to have criticisms.

“Sorry, darling…” he reached across the couch to find you. His hand opened palm up as he willed you to take his offering.

You stared at his calloused skin for a moment. Long enough for him to assume you weren't granting him an inch right now. But then a soft breath left your lips and both of your hands descended upon his. You cupped his hand, silver bands knocking together with whispered promise.

“I hate when you do that.” You muttered.

“I know.” He relented. “I know. I was a wanker.”

You let out a pained snort, amusement flashing in your eyes for just a moment. You twisted the silver band on his finger absentmindedly as you sorted your thoughts. John was silent, relishing in the proximity. You leaned toward him, not away now.

You bit your lip and he noticed how chapped the flesh was - you had small teeth created abrasions, peeling the skin apart.

“I just…” You squeezed his hand unconsciously. “I feel like I'm at a dead end.”

John's heart sank, “With our marriage?”

You shook your head, but it didn't necessarily offer any reprieve. His mind was already slipping again. Was this the conversation other military men had before their wives left them? He wanted to think your partnership had an infinite run, but now he was timid and doubtful. He never felt like that. He had always been secure.

“With your job, John,” you said. “But I suppose it's bleeding into our family. I can't keep it all in anymore.”

John's mouth was dry, “Go on, darling. I'm listening.”

“I'm tired of missing you all the time.” You were opening Pandora's box and now you couldn’t stop. John watched your eyes grow glassy, emotional turmoil ripping up the soil in your heart. “I'm tired of telling the kids you'll be home soon. I don't even know if that’s true. I feel like I'm raising them all alone, and eventually it'll become permanent.”

John admittedly didn’t know how to respond to that. Part of him was offended. He wasn't going to die and leave you alone. Yet the other part recognized that this was your fear. It wasn't far-fetched either.

“Is that how you always feel?” He questioned. Was he just a horrible husband that didn't notice his wife's atrophy?

You nodded slowly, “I dread anytime someone knocks on the door.”

John's heart was withering away. Blood pumped through his body, gave him life, but he felt like a part of him already decomposed. He knew he was gambling his life every second he spent in the task force. The dice rolled, the players made their calls. One day that dice would be an omen. You're going to die on the field, John. People like you don't get the luxury of anything else.

Yet, he'd try. Even if he had to heave himself by crumbling bone to get home.

“Death is a risk. You've always known that.” he replied.

Your hands detached from his and he felt the chill seep in. He knew instantly he said the wrong thing, but he couldn't backtrack now. Pride wouldn’t let him nor would the deep belief of those words. Instead, he watched you lean back in your seat again putting physical and metaphorical distance between you.

“So I'm just supposed to be content in that,” You accused. “Oh yeah, my bastard husband might be six feet under next month. But, oh well! Because I knew what his job was when we started dating. Woe is me.”

“Watch it…” he snapped. Your words were like water to grease fire.

Your mocking put his defenses right back up. He knew he said the wrong thing, but he didn't appreciate it being rubbed in his face like that.

“No, John,” You were stronger now, poised with knowledge of what you needed from this conversation. “You're being a bastard. I'm telling you that I am anticipating you dying and dreading it, and you're telling me I just have to suck it up. Just because I married you.”

“Bloody hell…” John pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes in growing frustration. “You're going too far with a simple comment I made.”

You didn't even humor him and that’s what made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. You stood up from your seat and just walked out of room. Normally, you'd dig your claws in and make some remark back. But you didn't. It made his stomach sink.

If he was able to see your face, he'd see the way tears clung to your eyelashes. He'd see the way you swallowed rapidly to push away your melancholy. He'd see the deep, agonizing breath you had to take to compose yourself for just a minute longer.

He had several opportunities to push that conversation in another direction. The plethora of better ways that had been teasing the edge of his tongue was clear.

His knee cracked as he stood, his lower back twinging in pain as he followed after you. He was out of his element. It was a mindfuck to come from the bloodbath to a more domestic environment. Right now, he was struggling with the concept of comforting you.

He could feel the steel cold grip of the wedge between the both of you. There was a chasm that descended into the abyss. If he took a step, he would plummet. If you took a step, he was terrified that would be the last he saw of you.

He found you in the den, looking out the window that glimpsed into the backyard. Your shoulders were shaking, sniffles leaving your nose. John felt guilt stir a bitter concoction in his stomach as he saw this somber state. You were the flowers that bloomed in the garden, you didn’t deserve to wither.

You went stock still when his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into solid chest. You turned your head away when his lips attempted to meet the plushness of your tear-stricken cheek. He let out a low grumble of disapproval at your rejection, tightening his grip. His fingers dug into the grooves of your hips, not resisting the urge to feel the way your flesh shaped against him.

“I can’t give up my position, darling…” he stated softly. He wasn’t trying to back you into a corner enough so you brandished your claws. He was just stating a fact.

That was his truth. John’s blood was made of gunpowder and ash. Men like him were built to always be part of the fight. He had crossed far too many lines to be considered worthy of a civilian lifestyle.

He wondered what you would think of him had he ever confessed that he once took a mother and child hostage to gain the higher ground. You’d be disgusted, surely. As a mother yourself, it would be easy to imagine yourself in that same position. Little Edith or William with fearful eyes as they watched their daddy at the other end of the barrel. He wasn’t merciful. Why would anyone else be?

“When are you going to pick us, John?” You questioned.

John wanted to shake you, make you understand his point of view. He had to get dirty to keep the world clean - for you, for the kids. There had to be someone that was willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. Not many people could blacken their soul like he had. He already had this gestating, molten black wound within him, so he had to at least fight until the end. When he could not ignore the rusted glide of his once flexible being. When his muscles disintegrated into dust.

“It’s not that simple,” John responded.

“It is,” You said. You put your hand over one of his, weaving your fingers between his with a sigh. Even with your heart fiery red, you still wanted to touch him. He took that as something good.

Even if he couldn’t give you what you yearned for.

You were his to keep, though, so he didn’t appreciate the image he pictured of you leaving. The two of you shared kids. You existed in the same house and put up with him for five years. You were committed, just as he was to his job.

Might as well see this through to the end, too.

Yet, he came to regret this conversation. There were too many loose ends that needed to be tied together. There was no true satisfaction. It was also the last true conversation he had where he had the opportunity to assure you to some capacity.

The call came just as he untangled himself from your pliant body.

He muttered a small curse under his breath, answering the phone with a bitter bite. “What?”

“Cap, Soap and Ghost are on their way,” Gaz greeted him, undeterred by the ice in John’s one word. He already figured he would be perturbed considering he was finally on a leave.

John stopped at that, “The reason?”

“Better if we tell you at base, sir,” Gaz said. “Bring the missus and the kids.”

“The kids?” John repeated gruffly. “They’re at their grandparents’.”

You stood up straight, analyzing John in order to dissect his words. You leaned in close, urging your husband to put the phone on speaker. Normally, you didn’t play in his work conversations, but this one you automatically knew you had a right to.

“Kyle…” you spoke.

Gaz went silent after hearing your voice, like the stakes suddenly got real and more dire. It made John suspicious, and he put a comforting hand on the small of your back. You were not accustomed to doomed calls like he was. He knew you had an array of questions just ready to leak from your lips because he was the same. But he also knew the importance of confidentiality. Phones were not safe.

“I’ll tell the others to get the kids first,” Gaz decided after a moment.

“Kyle, are we in danger?” you asked urgently. You at least deserved to know what was at play here.

“I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

°•○●○•°

TAGLIST

@callsignpxnguin @crystal-freak24 @haneybunny @tenshis-cake

If you would like to be added for future chapters, let me know!

[obae-me]

Hello, darling! First of all, I read your post and I want you to know I'll be supporting you from the sidelines!

Second, I'm a big fan of your writing!

Could ai request some writing about having a date with Lucifer in the snow? It could be anything related to winter, really.

Thank you!

Hello, dear! Thank you so much for your support and kind words! It means more to me than you know! I know it's not quite winter anymore- at least it's already getting warmer where I am at- but your snow date is here at last! I hope this is what you were looking for! (Requests always make me a bit nervous, I just love making people happy!) Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.3k

Three whole days it had been snowing nonstop. Not quite a torrent, but not exactly the best event for the Devildom at large. But even as you watched the soft powder pile shockingly high, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be too worried. Maybe it was the comforting fact that snow seemed to appear the same throughout the realms. More likely though, it was the sight of several demon heads bobbing through wintery trenches, attempting to accomplish the task of clearing paths through the thick blanket of snowflakes, only to end up pushing each other deeper in it or throwing it around. Such a sight warmed your heart. It helped that you were staying warm inside though.

It was nice and quiet in the House today. Almost too quiet. Normally, when the loudest of demons were outside and able to scream as loud as they wished, you took the opportunity to snuggle up to the demon you most adored. He wasn’t here today either unfortunately. Hadn’t been for a little while. The snow, for all its beauty, was causing Lucifer and Diavolo a more than a few problems.

Laying down on your bed, you tried to push aside the thoughts about how nice this moment would be if he were here beside you. It’s not as if you were tied together by the wrist. A few days apart was child’s play. But… it was unfortunate that he was missing out on this perfect moment of peace. He might even find the shouting outside marginally endearing. You curled up on your side, rifling through the various scenarios you might find yourselves in if he were here. A movie. A game. A nap… All with the warmth of the blankets blocking out the outer chill in a shield of fluff. It sounded far too cozy.

So cozy, in fact, that in the midst of your daydreaming, you drifted off somehow.

You woke a while later to a gentle knock at your door. Groaning, blinking, forcing your body to sit up, you hardly uttered a word before a familiar frame of a fair face faded into view. It shocked your body into alertness. “You’re home…”

Lucifer quietly let himself inside your room. Weary eyes exposed the exhaustion the days of endless work had caused. It was clear he had only gotten home recently, not even given the time to undo his tie or shake the persistent snowflakes off his coat. His presence was such a pleasant surprise, even your squeaky hinges were speechless. As he stepped closer, you noticed his taut shoulders lowering in small intervals. He held a hot beverage in his grasp with one hand, fingers clamped above the rim, making it easier for you to take by the handle as he raised it in your direction.

"What's all this for?" you asked, one eyebrow raised. As you brought the mug up to your face, the warmth billowing up against your cheeks was telling of the intense temperature.

"Careful, it's hot."

A hum left your throat as you set the drink down to let it cool. "Oh, thank you. How would I have ever known? Hot drink is hot? Revolutionary. What’s next? Cold drink cold?" You gasped. Lips curled into a little grin.

A finger pressed into the middle of your forehead. A few gentle pokes preceeded him bending down to get closer to your face. "Pardon me for trying to keep that sharp tongue of yours from burning." His voice still kept that sterner quality, but his expression betrayed his true feelings of playfulness. You loved being able to draw out that buried personality of his. "As for your previous question," he continued, "is it so unusual for me to show you some affection?"

"For the last few days, yes. I've hardly seen you. Not even so much as a call…" A blunt truth. One that you didn't intend to sound so harsh. He'd been swamped, and you knew that. A brief lack of communication and some space wasn't a problem. He'd always make it up. You were just worried.

Lucifer raised himself back up, his dark eyes narrowing. An intimidating face that would've sent a chill down your spine in times past. Now, you had the knowledge that he was just terrible with expressions. Or perhaps the old adage of "keep it that way for too long, and your face will be stuck" was true for that infamous scowl of his.

"I know," he sighed, his arms folding tight across his chest. His head turned off to the side, eyes flitting around like he was scanning your room for potential threats. ‘Threats’ being his brothers of course. When he returned his attention to you, he took a step closer, scooping up one of your hands in his gloved one. "I suppose you're not entirely wrong in your question. I did come here with an agenda in mind."

"So, this drink is an olive branch, then?"

"In a sense. Do you accept it?"

"The drink or your apology?"

"Both."

For a moment, you slipped your hand from his hold, taking the mug up again. It seemed to have cooled down enough to drink. You sipped on it, making your expression seem as if your answer was hinging on how tasty the beverage was. You quickly hummed with surprise. "It's good." In the background, his posture shifted, puffing up a little with pride. You held it carefully in your lap. “You don’t need forgiveness in the first place, Luce. I wasn’t angry with you. I just worry. And... I miss you.”

The demon’s shoulders drooped fully, their length about twice as long now that they weren’t coiled so tight against his neck. Another clone of a sigh left his lips, announcing that a great deal of weight had suddenly been lifted from his soul. Who knew your potential emotions had such an influence on him? He bent down towards your face, eyes half-closed. His forehead touched yours, rubbing against your skin in an affectionate way before pulling apart. You could tell he was desperately craving more skinship, but was holding himself back. “Tomorrow, if you do not have any pertinent plans, give your time to me.”

“Hm. Say it nicer, and maybe I’ll consider.”

Different shades of red seemed to glow in his irises for a moment. Lucifer scoffed, but then smiled. The challenge was accepted. He knelt beside where you sat, taking one of your hands in both of his. Both thumbs brushed over the whole back of your hand before he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “I’ve deeply desired your company as of late. Fates permitting, will you go out with me tomorrow?”

Damn him. Always one to do too much. “It’s a date… but only if you rest first.”

Two shoes and a heavy coat hit the ground with echoing thuds as the mattress under you shifted. He wasted no more time in wrapping his arms low around your waist. “If you only knew how much I had been thinking about that very thing.”

---

“Is it time to say the classic ‘are we there yet’?”

“If you do, you’ll find yourself thrown in the snow.”

Despite the threat, you couldn't help but grin. Although, you desperately had to know… Were you almost there yet?

You had waken up this morning to your companion already gone. A note had been left by your bedside, letting you know to bundle up for today’s apparent date. While you got yourself inundated with a comical amount of layers, you could only hope that Lucifer had gotten adequate enough rest before sneaking off to prepare for…whatever surprise he had in store. Pride was known for going the extra mile or three.

By the time you were ready, he was here to escort you to… You still had no idea. You’d been walking through the path inlaid in the mountains of snow for what felt like a while now.

“Can I have a hint at least?” you wondered.

He stayed perfectly silent. Then, he second-guessed his decision to ignore you and glanced over his shoulder. “Why would I give you a hint when I could just show you?”

You opened your mouth to return his snarky answer when he stopped. He pulled you around to stand beside him, his hand now clasped in yours. The endless amount of snow gave way to the mouth of a cave. It was true, your sense of adventure had been enhanced ever since being in the Devildom. However, this yawning cave was pushing those limits. It’s glistening teeth quivered with anticipation, and it’s breath chilled you to the bone.

Lucifer must’ve caught your appearance, for he simply chuckled. “And here, I thought you trusted me.”

“I do! It’s just… nothing good has ever come from the caves down here. They’re even iffy in the human realm.”

“Well…” He dropped his hold on your hand. He pretended to think about it for a moment even though it was clear in his eyes he’d already made up his mind. With one swift motion, he scooped you up on his back, his hands holding you steady by the undersides of your knees. “Have faith when I say that you’ll like this one.”

With you propped up against him, he entered the mouth of the cave. Pitch darkness consumed you both, the only sense you could rely on was the warmth of Lucifer’s touch and the crunch of his boots. Your body tensed, ready to have the both of you fall, or run into a wall, or something else predictably terrible. But before you could worry too much, the trail opened up into a much larger chamber.

The inside of the cave suddenly seemed to burst into light. The shift in brightness caused spots in your vision for a few moments. When it returned to normal, however, you couldn’t stop the gasp that followed.

Multicolored icicles, like shimmering iridescent crystals hung low from the cave ceiling. Light cast from various orbs of energy bounced around. They almost seemed like living creatures, moving slowly and gently in various directions, soft whispery vibrations coming from them as they passed by. Different arrays of hues drifted over the snow, arcing in several kaleidoscopic rainbows. Snow? This deep inside a cave? And near your feet, rich indigo flowers lined a path, the petals looking as if they were carved from glowing frost. They led the way towards a pre-set table adorned with lacy tablecloths, golden candles, and platinum silverware. Based off the smell, you could tell food had been prepared and was magically staying warm, waiting for your arrival. Soups, sandwiches, hot teas and ciders, and plenty of sweets tried beckoning you over with a wave of aromatic steam.

Magical would be an understatement.

You were let off the demon’s back to wander on your own. You cupped your hands as one of the wandering wisps drifted down towards you. You gently pushed it upwards, watching it languidly dance towards the roof. “Lucifer…” Your lips mouthed different letters before you recalled the language necessary to form words. “You have to stop doing stuff like this... You’re making the standards impossible for me to beat.”

For a split second, Lucifer almost seemed angry. It quickly transformed into hurt, and then once more into determination. Holding you from behind, chin on your shoulder, he started to stoke the dying embers of your pride. “How many times do I have to try to get it through to you, that you have already far exceeded my expectations? Being with me, talking with me, understanding me, waiting for me, loving me…they are far more than I ever felt like I deserved. This is but a small fraction of repayment towards that debt. No… Not a debt. My love for you cannot be compared to something so negative. A small drop in the ocean of my devotion, rather. If you simply tried to copy everything I did, you wouldn’t be you. I dream of you bringing me coffee in the mornings, of rubbing my shoulders after a long day, of a kiss on my cheek. To you, you might worry they are too simple, but for me, they mean everything. So please, I beg of you to drop all misgivings, and enjoy this time with me.”

Speechless, you quickly stowed away the part of you that tempted to taint your mind with insecurities. As you nodded, he gave your whole body a tight squeeze, swaying back and forth with you.

“If you really want to do something for me…” He turned you around to face him, chuckling a little as he used his gloved hand to remove some snowflakes from your face and hair. “You can say my favorite phrase.”

“’Stay out of trouble?’”

He rolled his eyes and squeezed your face. “Don’t be coy.”

With a huff, you moved his hands away. “Fine, fine. Here… I will do you one better.”

As if sensing your intentions, the light in the chamber dimmed, the soft glow of magic enhancing the intimacy. You brought your face up to meet his, your lips brushing over his own. His lips were normally soft, but today they were slightly cracked from the cold. The chapstick he encouraged you to put on earlier came in handy as you ensured it coated his own lips evenly. The air in the chamber shifted, and you could almost envision his wings fluttering behind him despite him not being in his demon form. “I love you.”

His entire demeanor melted. It was precious how just a few simple words could affect him so much. Perhaps that was his point he was trying to make earlier. What seemed as simple to you both meant worlds to the other…

If that was the case, just as he gave the world to you, you’d make his world spin over and over and over again.

“I adore you more than anything, my heart... Now… will you join me for a picnic in the snow?”

[sleepymarimo]

𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬

summary: in which the swordsman is painfully unfamiliar with how it feels to be attracted to someone pairing: zoro x gn!reader cw: zoro is awkward and oblivious, mostly fluff an: i had pre-timeskip zoro in mind for this one when writing this hehe... oh and also i love this song sm!! this one was fun to write :) wc: a little over 1.1k, minus song lyrics!  ⤷ based on this song! ⤷ part of this arctic monkeys mini event!

this shithole of a club wasn't zoro's first choice.

too many flashing lights, people and an odd haze in the air that he figures is a mixture of artificial fog, body heat and cigarette smoke.

but alas, he nurses a jug of sake and finds himself tapping his foot to whatever heavy beat is reverberating through the ginormous speakers.

he leans against a grimy wall, his gaze falling upon some of his crew mates before he glares at some drunkard who accidentally bumps into him.

what a damn mess, he can't help but think, finding solace in how the sake burns his throat. "cheap shit." he mutters under his breath, not at all satisfied by the quality of his overpriced beverage.

another con of these shitty clubs? he has to actually put some effort into making sure that there were no threats around.

a song comes on and he rolls his eyes, taking a large swig of sake in the hopes that maybe he'd get so drunk that he didn't have to remember anything by the time the sun rose tomorrow morning.

get on your dancing shoes there's one thing on your mind...

his steel gaze scans the crowd, a disinterested expression marring his face.

it's nothing but sweat slicked bodies and vibrant colored cocktails, the rowdy scene making zoro wonder if he should just bail and take his chances with finding his way back to the ship.

hell, there weren't even any bar fights he could wedge his way into...

hoping they're looking for you sure you'll be rummaging through...

another sweep of the dancefloor with his sharp gaze. his posture is relaxed and confident, until he's looking into the eyes of someone else across the dancefloor.

oh and the shit, shock, the horror you've seen your future bride!

it's only for a split second, a quick glance shared between two strangers, but the effect is pretty immediate. his broad shoulders pull back and his whole frame goes rigid.

within that second, his senses, prepped and primed for battle, hone in on every minute detail about you. your hair, your figure, your cheeks and the unmistakable glimmer of curiosity that shines in your eyes.

what gets him the most is that little polite smile you give him, before looking away and continuing to dance.

he's dumbstruck and forced into a world of intrigue and trepidation.

yeah, but it's oh so absurd for you to say the first word, so you're waitin' and waitin'

did they just use haki on me? he asks himself, painfully unfamiliar with the notion of actually being attracted to someone.

an annoyed growl crawls up his throat, thinking that you were perhaps mocking him, but when he attempts to take a step forward, he finds that he's unable to do so.

his palms get a little sweaty, his grip tightening on his jug of sake.

this isn't right. this isn't him. he's impulsive and fearless, so why did his heart feel like it was just about ready to burst from between his ribs?

...the only reason that you came so what you scared for?

oh, don't you always do the same it's what you're there for, don't you know?

booze. he decides that he needs more booze, because surely the cheap shit he was drinking is to blame for his sudden unease. navigating through the crowd is easy enough, especially when they practically part for him as he passes by with a restless scowl.

the coolness of the bar counter makes him forget how hot and stuffy this dingy club is.

the lights are flashing down in here tonight!

mindless chatter surrounds him, nothing but meaningless gossip and boisterous laughs. the sound of crashing drums reverberates through the speakers and zoro can't help but feel downright annoyed.

he's handled warlords and sea kings, raging storms and things most people couldn't even dream of. so what the hell was his damn problem?

with a click of his tongue, he decides that he won't run. maybe after a cup or two or three of sake, he'd find you again. yeah... he could do that.

and some might exchange a glance, but keep pretending to dance...

he leans against the bar, shaking himself out of his stupor and waiting for the bartender to come over and get him some more damn booze.

his large frame takes up enough room for two people, but it's not like he really cares. so, he lazily scans the assortment of liquors on the top shelf, not really paying any mind to the other patrons.

don't act like it's not happening, as if it's impolite… to go and mention your name…

instead you'll just do the same as they all do and hope for the best!

he hears a voice beside him, practically yelling out an order in an attempt to be heard over the sound of the booming bass. "hey, bartender! two shots of the good sake on the top shelf, yeah?"

zoro's curiosity is piqued, an amused smirk quirking at the corner of his lips. whoever this person was, it sounded like they had damn good taste.

maybe he could share a drink with 'em?

as soon as he looks over and sees that familiar hair, that nose and that damn smile, he almost physically recoils.

the only reason that you came so what you scared for?

your elbows rest on the counter as you wait for your order, stuck inside your own head and not noticing how the green haired swordsman stares at you with an expression of half-irritation and half-wonder.

shit, there it is again.

well don't you always do the same it's what you're there for but no...

the sensation of his sweaty palms and frenzied heart make zoro feel uncharacteristically inferior, almost exposed. one of his hands instinctively falls to his wado ichimonji and he grips the hilt hard, finding some comfort in the action.

flashing lights and the scent of smoke make him feel even worse, his tongue heavy in his mouth. it makes him almost angry with himself, his frustration coming to a boiling point as he struggles to do anything.

get on your dancing shoes you sexy little swine!

out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone else approaching the bar. an ordinary patron, looking to get another drink.

it's no big deal... until zoro realizes that they're about to fill the gap between you and him.

screw that, he thinks. acting on pure impulse, he abruptly scoots himself closer to you and forces the club goer to take a different spot.

hoping they're looking for you… sure you'll be rummaging through...

his movements are a bit too rough, his shoulder colliding with yours hard enough to make you stumble to the side and slip on some spilled booze.

his large hand moves on its own, firmly wrapping around your waist as he catches you just before you could fall.

in a panic, you cling to his shirt. the white fabric bunches into your hands and you let out a relieved breath, then your eyes look up and meet his for the second time that night.

and I said the shit, shock, horror you've seen your future bride, yeah!

the hiss that comes out through his gritted teeth is drowned out by the music, his posture tensing as he silently revels in the warmth of your form against his.

well, damn.

both of you are silent for a second, hearts thumping to the tune of the bass as you observe one another under the neon lights. neither of you make a motion to move, as if the moment itself were made of glass.

the clink of two cups on the bar counter have both your heads snapping down.

oh yeah, those damn shots...

yeah, but it's oh so absurd for you to say the first word so you're waitin' and waitin'!

"m'zoro." he manages to croak out, opting to deal with this shitshow in the only way he knows how to. his head tilts toward the shots, cheeks aflame. "wanna drink?"

taglist: @dimplewonie

[ohmygraves]

there's this cafe near the base that soap likes to frequent. he's a regular, and he goes there everyday when he can. it's a nice, cozy cafe where he can sit back and relax, enjoying the quaint atmosphere away from sweaty soldiers running around the base. sometimes, he even brought price and ghost some coffee or tea, if they so prefer.

now, the base has a pretty great coffee machine, sure, but johnny likes to dabble on some other beverages. perhaps try some matcha latte or some hot chocolate, but if anyone asked him if he's there for the drinks, he would lie and nod at them, saying how the latte or the chocolate was the best thing he's ever tasted.

the drinks are amazing, don't get him wrong. the ingredients were high quality, and the prices were a little bit on the pricier side for a local coffee shop. but it was the cute barista that got him hooked in the first place.

you were the barista on the morning shift, and johnny would walk in at around 9am sharp if he could drop by. he'd always order whatever you recommend, being the lovestruck boy he is, and happily give them a try with your pastry of choice. and then, you'd always ask for his name, but he'd give you some funny names that would make you laugh instead. one time you asked him for his name, he'd say "pope turté the third" and you kept giggling while making his order. when you called the name of the order, it drew a laugh from everyone at the cafe, and johnny would proudly pick up his drink and pastry from you, giving you his signature smile before leaving.

it was just that, your whole friendship with him. he makes you laugh with his ridiculous names, and you'd make his drinks the way he asked you, perhaps give him a few cakes or pastries for free if you're feeling generous. both of you were too scared to go further, afraid of being too forward. but you knew that you adored him, and he adored you too.

so, the next time he comes over for a cuppa, you simply hand him a paper cup with a lid, already made fresh, together with a single croissant by the counter.

"thank ye, bonnie. hoo muckle?"

"seven quid with the pastry." you replied sweetly, a small smile on your face.

he happily paid for it with his card, handing it over to you. you processed it as he wanted, returning it with a receipt and his orders. as he bid you farewell, he took a sip of the cup, finding it to be a delicious hot chocolate, with some spices in it.

turning the cup, he sees his name, john, written on the paper cup with a marker, a heart as the "o". just below his name, a number with a "text me" was written, together with your own name.

somehow, his hot chocolate tasted sweeter than usual.

[dioslesbianwife]

I love your headcannons!

Is it possible to do one on the JoeFoes’ drinking habits or alcohol preferences?

Yes of course! thank you for asking, i’m glad you enjoy my headcannons 🩷

just a quick disclaimer tho- this is coming from a person who doesn’t drink and hasn't actually tasted most of these things lol so please excuse any possible inaccuracies. :p

Drinking and alcohol preference headcannons for jojo villains 🍸

Dio

Drink of Choice: Expensive red wine, preferably aged for decades. Anything cheap or common is beneath him.

Drinking Habits: Dio sips his wine slowly, savoring it like the connoisseur he claims to be. He drinks to show off his sophistication, sometimes lecturing others about wine pairings.

Behavior When Drunk: Dio very rarely drinks enough to get drunk, but if he does, he becomes even more arrogant, loudly proclaiming his superiority and challenging everyone in the room.

Kars

Drink of Choice: Exotic cocktails with rare ingredients. He enjoys unique, complex flavors that provide an interesting experience for him..

Drinking Habits: Kars drinks slowly and methodically, analyzing every ingredient. He views alcohol as one way to explore human creativity.

Behavior When Drunk: I have no idea if he can even get drunk due to his physiology, but if he somehow does, he’d likely become contemplative and critical of everyone around him.

Wamuu

Drink of Choice: Mead or a strong ale, something hearty that feels like a warrior’s drink.

Drinking Habits: Wamuu drinks socially and responsibly, enjoying the camaraderie of sharing a drink. He approaches alcohol with the same respect he gives to battle.

Behavior When Drunk: Again not sure if it’s possible, but if it is then Wamuu becomes even more jovial, perhaps challenging people to drinking contests or arm wrestling matches.

Esidisi

Drink of Choice: Savory cocktails, like a Bloody Mary with extra hot sauce or something infused with peppers.

Drinking Habits: Esidisi drinks passionately and quickly, ordering multiple drinks in a row. He enjoys the fiery burn of alcohol.

Behavior When Drunk: If that’s possible, Esidisi becomes dramatically emotional, crying and yelling in rapid succession. He’s exhausting to deal with.

Enrico Pucci

Drink of Choice: White or red wine, preferably sacramental wine, though he might indulge in a high quality port on rare occasions.

Drinking Habits: Pucci drinks sparingly and with reverence, treating alcohol as something symbolic rather than indulgent.

Behavior When Drunk: I don’t think he is allowed to drink to the point of intoxication, but if he were to get drunk, he becomes uncharacteristically talkative, sharing philosophical musings noone asked for.

Diavolo

Drink of Choice: Espresso martinis. He loves coffee and having it paired with alcohol is perfect.

Drinking Habits: Diavolo drinks alone, never letting his guard down in public.

Behavior When Drunk: He becomes even more paranoid and erratic, convinced everyone is plotting against him. Doppio, on the other hand, becomes more relaxed and flushed.

Kira

Drink of Choice: A glass of dry white wine or a gin and tonic. Nothing flashy, just clean and precise.

Drinking Habits: Kira drinks quietly and moderately, never drawing attention to himself. He often uses drinking as a way to blend in.

Behavior When Drunk: If Kira ever drinks enough to get drunk, he becomes unnervingly talkative, unintentionally letting slip small details about his true nature.

Funny Valentine

Drink of Choice: Bourbon or rye whiskey, something distinctly American and traditional.

Drinking Habits: Valentine drinks slowly and deliberately, enjoying the symbolism of his beverage as much as the taste.

Behavior When Drunk: Valentine becomes even more preachy than usual, giving long winded speeches about the greatness of America while occasionally tearing up with emotion.

[bosphorushop]

BOSPHORUS SHOPPİNG 4

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[prettieinpink]

Urgent ask, how be a baddie as a extremely under confident person

BECOMING YOUR BEST SELF WITH LOW CONFIDENCE

i have no idea what ur definition of a 'baddie' is, so this post may have not been what you've been looking for, but I tried my best

A lot of us struggle with confidence, and it can be the main factor that holds us back from growing to be our best selves. So, I’ve created a guide on improving ourselves even with low confidence.

UNDERSTAND THAT IT IS NOT UNREPLENISHABLE. Confidence is like a cup of water, tea, coffee, hot cocoa, or whatever your favourite beverage is, it can always be refilled. While you don’t have to ‘fake till you make it’, remember that you do not live with a restricted amount of confidence.

ACCEPT IT. Whatever way you have to, crying, journalling, venting, you have to accept that you are a person who struggles with low confidence. However, instead of identifying yourself as that, identify yourself as learning to self-love.

E.g. ‘I’m so insecure’ → ‘I am still learning to love myself.’ ‘Why can’t I be like them?’ -> ‘I will learn that I do not have to be someone else.’

CONSIDER NEUTRALITY. You don’t have to live on this odd scale of loving yourself or hating yourself all the time, and letting it define you. Instead of what it looks like, what it can look like, what it can do, see it as a special vessel that homes your soul.

For example, my body can digest the food that nourishes my soul, my hands can write text messages to my loved ones which reassure my soul that they know they are loved etc. Seeing it in this perspective grows a deeper meaning and appreciation for your body.

I like to see my body, traits, and life as a gift from God. Me insulting these things, is an insult to him.

INDULGE IN YOUR STRENGTHS. When we have low confidence, it becomes almost second nature to focus on our weaknesses. Instead, try to actively focus on your strengths. If you don’t know what your strengths are at the moment, just focus on things that make you happy.

It would be beneficial to add one thing that you know you’re good at on your list of what to do. Something that you’re assured you’ll like doing and the outcome.

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. Eat a well-balanced diet, make an effort to achieve good quality sleep, exercise when you can, reach out to your loved ones daily and incorporate things that make you happy.

Just these simple things can improve your quality of life by far, however, our intentions to do these things may be impacted by our low confidence, and therefore we are unmotivated to do these things.

If that is the case, take little steps in doing each thing and remind yourself that intentional self-neglect is a form of self-harm and destruction.

[the-xolotl]

Thundering Rain

Qí Yù | Rafayel x Reader

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You and Rafayel cozy up during a cold storm to enjoy each other’s company when you realize he got up for something but didn’t come back to cuddle you.

—• TAGS: Domestic fluff, kinda ooc Rafayel (? if you squint), no use of Y/N, use of the pet name my love, beta read (imagine that)

A thunderstorm had been raging outside for hours now and you are thankful, for once, about the harsh seasonal changes because not just did you enjoy the rain and the majestic flashing of light that occasionally lit up the otherwise dark gray sky, you didn’t have to go to work. You could enjoy a leisure day indoors, listening to the calming sound of the rain hitting the window and the deep thunder clapping after each rapid flash of light with a warm blanket and hot beverages.

It’s true you loved your job, loved the adrenaline of being a hunter, the thrill of battle, but it was nice to sit back and relax for a bit. And some reprieve was definitely due after these past few weeks, Linkon City had been seeing more and more Wanderers roaming inside the more civilian populated areas, your team along with some back ups had been dispatched as first responders almost every time; it’s been busy to say the least.

And Rafayel had definitely not appreciated your constant absence. You don’t blame him, you missed him too. Because your job wasn’t just turning monsters to dust and protecting innocent people; each attack meant a lot of paperwork, desk work, meetings. It meant time away from home and away from your already clingy, needy lover.

Who, speaking of, had suspiciously gotten up from cuddling you in the sofa and hadn’t come back.

The now cool spot behind you made you realize his absence. But as you were about to get up to look for the purple-head you heard his voice, “Stay where you are, how you are, for another 30 minutes…” Rafa trailed off.

He didn’t even ask politely yet you remained on your spot no questions asked and turned your head back to look outside the large, tall window that gave the perfect view to the backyard. “So that’s where you’ve been the whole time,” you chuckled softly, of course he was.

“Inspiration should never be wasted or ignored. The best master pieces ever created were in spontaneous bursts of creativity,” He stated as if it was the most honest to god truth. Yeah, alright.

Amused you simply retorted, “Is that a fact?”

“Most likely,” he shot back before taking a small pause, “Besides, you barely noticed after almost an entire hour I didn’t come back beside you.”

The last part sounded more begrudging, you didn’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting. You couldn’t help but giggle, “Yeah, my back was getting cold. That’s how I noticed you were still gone.” Rafa let out the most offended scoff, he didn’t even dignify with an answer.

The room falls silent again save for the rhythmic pattering of rain, it’s then you realize he’s actually concentrating and you can’t help the little leap your heart makes. “Are you painting me?”

“As I was coming back from the kitchen the scene and atmosphere looked perfect so I just had to capture it,” he explains, “I haven’t had the opportunity to play around with darker tones or paints in a while and I recently acquired some very high quality materials to produce stunning shades. Very rare finds, honestly.” The Lemurian continued on to explain how and where he’d manage to obtain them, of course pointedly mentioning that he needed something to do in your absence because it was just so so boring.

More than half an hour had past, that’s for sure, as you filled the time with more banter and teasing remarks.

“Rafa can I move now? I’m going to have neck pain and be stuck in this position forever if I don’t get up soon,” you whine loudly, “The painting won’t be needed to immortalize this moment then.” He only tsk’s at you, calling you over to see the painting.

“Holy shit you weren’t kidding, the pigments are so rich!” You know little to nothing about art, any scattered knowledge or artsy lingo has definitely come from listening to your boyfriend talk about art. You study the painting detail by detail, from top to bottom. He really does deserve the fame, not that you’re biased.

Rafayel smiles big like a satisfied cat (ironically) at your praise and expression of awe.

Though the more you steady the painting the more you realize the gloomy tempest going out outside was definitely not the focus of this piece like you had originally thought, despite the fact that the oversized window gave the perfect opportunity to capture it so.

Instead you realize most of the spotlight was you. Rafayel had clearly taken his time; each curve of your features was perfectly drawn and shaded, the way the light made light and dark contrasts against the little skin that was not covered by the quilt, the shine in your eyes that reflected the lighting that occasionally flashed and the hair that framed your face. The content of your expression clearly denoting how engrossed you’ve been on the weather outside, he even included the faintest curl of the corner of your lip. And you looked cozy as hell with the blanket all the way tucked up to your chest and your hands wrapped around the (then) steaming mug of coffee.

A heat crept up your cheeks and chest. Is this how he saw you? Is this what his eyes see when he looks at you? Truly? You must’ve had your thoughts written in your face because he breaks the long silence with in a soft voice, “You are the inspiration of the painting, my love,” circling back to one of his earlier comments. You turn to face him fully, meeting eyes as he was already looking at you, as soft smile that matched the softness of his voice spread across his lips.

“It’s going to be part of the next exhibit, on a very special spot.”

“I’m sorry what?” You lamely ask, astonished but still in a monotone.

Rafayel had the audacity to laugh in your face as he gave the cavas a few strokes with the brush to accentuate some shadows. “It’s not finished yet, of course. I will accept no less than perfection,” he says slowly, words as methodical as his painting technique, “Specially when it comes to you.”

If you weren’t blushing before you sure are now. You shove him gently when he takes the brush off the painting, attempting and failing to hide how much he managed to fluster you.

Another long pause passed, but this felt more intimate, watching him closely add some details, switch between different size brushes for finer details. Rafayel sure went into his own bubble when he worked, yet he is always somehow very aware of his surroundings. At least at the moment he was.

“Not a lot of people get the privilege to watch me like this, so up close, let alone live. Are you feeling how privileged you are?” The tone of playful arrogance brings you back and pops the bubble of comfortable silence. But it does make you giggle.

These little moments make you fall deeper in love with him.

⟢ A/N: feels kinda funny posting my writing for the first time in the internet tbh. i usually only write for my friends/myself so i hope you enjoy my lil rot. it’s been raining so much in my area it gives me a very cozy vibe.

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⤷ dividers : cafekitsune ✰