#ale is beyond disappointed

[cod-dump]

Alejandro: You're DATING Graves!?

Price: ... yes?

Alejandro: *angry Alejandro noises*

Price: Don’t try to lecture me, I'm older than you

Alejandro: I'm 38

Price: ... well shit-

[pigidin]

OKAY. Am I the only one fascinated by how much Alastor in s1 has interacted with other demons and built a potential for considerable amount of different, broad and unique relationships? With All of them being non-romantic/sexual?

I really don't wanna dive into the discourse of shipping coz honestly, I do think that erasing Al's aroaceness is not cool at all. Personally, I don't see him wishing any romance/sex at all, and well. Considering how platonic he actually is throughout the season, it kinda seems like people forget that friendship (or basically anything non rom-sex) exists in the first place.

Coz, like, let's see what we got::

Vox -- probably one-sided (psychosexual) crush from Vox with possible past friendship between them, them hating on each other yet having (used to have) some respect as well. The ANGST, the drama (for both of sides). Insert aroace troubles (possible aphobia from Vox? Or not? He may be biggest ally as well!) and Vox's petty feelings that are insanely interesting to explore (and laugh at).

Lucifer -- immediate hate that (with a course of events) can turn into forced bonding. The potential of queerplatonic parenting of Charlie is HUGE here. Insecurities from Al? Forced care? Banters? SHENANIGANS? Luci patching up Al after battle, prolly discovering his deal and them slowly bonding on shared interests? Hey.

Rosie -- literal established queerplatonic partners, married for tax benefits, spending their evenings gossiping, hating on Susan and Al rolling his eyes on another romance-rel drama Rosie was trying to help sb with. Rosie can have insane influence on him whether it is understanding modern things or just being with him when he needs it. It also gives off mom/son to me.

Husk -- fucked up master-pet not-friendship with probable care rooted since they were closer in past. Is it toxic? Yes. Is it giving off some problematic dynamic? Sure. Yet it's fucking complex on its core considering pilot, bits and pieces of their interaction and how easily Husk used to insult Al until he overstepped. Them two are quite similar if you think about it and if Al got over his ego it could benefit him a lot.

Niffty -- daugther/father dynamic with them sharing one sadistic-psycho braincell and genuinely enjoying each other's quirks. Protective Al? I just need more Niff and them two being partners in the most outrageous crimes.

Mimzy -- friendship going since they were humans, with them having an amazing (potential) backstory of sharing evenings on two. Al enjoying her company as well as being protective and helpful to her with nothing in return.

Charlie -- manipulated into trusting you as a dad figure? Don't tell me there is nothing below Al's creepy plans or that he wouldn't grow to care for her. He already is proud of her and finds amusement in her inspiration-skills (also, performance is his thing for a reason)

Angel -- I was honestly kinda upset we didn't see any interactions between them except one sex joke, coz my past era of Hunicasts was a fuel to their duo. Them bonding over how different they are is the best description of their dynamic. Also banters and body-puns.

You can't just erase Alastor from interacting with people, but putting him inside boxes of allonormative relationships while he has such a fucking huge potential for everything beyond just that - is quite.. disappointing. People turning a blind eye to a wide variety of relationships he can have (potential to which is set in canon) for the sake of just romance/sex is low key sad.

It's AWESOME to see ppl actually understanding it and.. damn THANKS to everyone who explores Al's relationship with others without it involving final wish to stick tongues into places. Dynamics can be interesting and exciting without it.

I really don't wanna project my romance-aversion onto Al, but when romance and sex is one thing you see everywhere.. it's hard to just let it slip.

You are allowed to do whatever you want, exploring physical intimacy is fun as well, and having Al, well, there are bunch of ways to show it with respecting his orientation and the fact that IT AFFECTS RELATIONSHIPS/ATTRACTIONS but please just don't make it the center of your attention, the one thing relationship revolves around, coz sadly it's just exactly how it looks like from some folks.

[sp00kymulderr]

Well here we are, nearing the end of another year. 2024 has been…something. But it has been made much easier and nicer thanks to the wonderful community we have made here, resilient and welcoming and full of love despite everything.

I haven’t read half as much as I wanted to (I still have things on my tbr from October 23 🫣 I blame my new job and my adhd okay) but what I have read has been so simply fantastic and inspiring, and the art I’ve seen this year has been absolutely wonderful. I’m constantly in awe of the talent in this fandom 💕

So I just wanted to take a moment to shout out some of my absolute favourite creations of 2024!

✨first of all I have to continue to scream about this Dieter & Alien art that @yopossum made for me 🥺🩷 a print of this lives on my mantelpiece and it makes me happy every single day. This means so much to me.

✨The stranger the better by @seventeenpins Dieter & tentacles - I don’t even need to explain further. You get it. It’s perfect. I reread this a lot

✨Seeded & Propogation by @covetyou *Staring at these fics with dreamy eyes*. Lo just gets me tbh, I’m very lucky. Dieter having weird dreams and then an even weirder and extremely sexy time with a new alien pal… yeah 🫠 I would happily live in the brain that created this.

✨Sweet Dee by @yopossum Sub Dieter wins every time, and this is such a special version of him. This is the kind of love Dieter baby deserves 🥺

✨Kinktober 23 by @gasolinerainbowpuddles Puddles I am forever grateful that you continued to work on and post on these throughout 2024, because everything came out with blew me away (and awakened some things in me 😌). So many absolute treasures here.

✨Rebirth by @perotovar THE Javi G fic. The most fucking gorgeous, heartfelt, sensitive and sweet piece of writing. I love the idea of Javi being genderfluid, and I love how Erin presented this coming out story so beautifully

✨What means to you, what means to me by @qveerthe0ry I rarely read Max P, but I couldn’t resist another genius fic concept from Tings! Gender fuckery at its best, and just a truly affirming piece of fic to read

✨Me on you by @luxurychristmaspudding I mean…WOW. Gorgeous, poetic work from a gorgeous, poetic writer. This one really stuck with me

✨Go your own way by @schnarfer oh, fuck boy Javi P you’re so god damn hot. No one writes like Al. Her style is so unique and so fun and so clever and this was no different. An absolute horny, emotional treat

✨Tool time by @covetyou Joel in a tool belt. Bulge nuzzling. Lo gives you everything you didn’t know you needed and then some. Every time I see a tool belt now I have a Pavlovian response.

✨Letter to an old poet by @party-hearses Mish writes with so much emotion, so much depth, and this is no different. It’s heart wrenching and emotional and says so much, even in 600 words. That’s talent.

✨Fade into you by @chronically-ghosted Daddy Dieter is my favourite. Taylor is my favourite. This is my favourite. I seriously love everything from this extremely talented writer but the daddy Dieter fics will forever live in my heart especially.

✨Let me get what I want by @for-a-longlongtime H O T 🥵 I had to take breaks reading this because JEEZ it’s insaaane 😵‍💫 I’d like to live right in this fic

✨Someone who calls me baby by @missredherring We saw this thought spawned in the brainrot club and I was beyond excited to see Rachel give us this gorgeous piece of very sweet Javi G x Dieter. I really love your brain.

✨Diana by @demonsandbullets i saw the warnings for this and had a meltdown 🫠 the fic did not disappoint. An initiation for the new Roman general which gives us Sub Bottom!Acacius and pegging. Holy fuck. Some of the best writing I’ve read ever.

🌟Thank you all for sharing your talent and making the year something more special for me

This list is incomplete, I don’t think I could ever compile a complete list of every wonderful creation in the Pedro fandom in a year.

So to everyone else, and everyone in this fandom (everyone who isn’t a bully or a troll trying to ruin the fandom space, at least) :

[showtoonzfan]

Also yeah this new Hazbin cast is not it man. I’m sorry. Most of them either sound flat, don’t fit with the character design, or are just not as good as the original. Angel and Alastor I especially don’t like, Alastor sounds so nasally and Amari just can’t top Bosco’s performance, with Bosco not only was he good but when Alastor was threatening, he SOUNDED threatening. I may have made fun of Al’s design, but Bosco’s voice is what made the character interesting and threatening for me. With Amari’s voice he just sounds beyond silly and I can’t take him seriously.

Blake Roman is literally just intimidating Kovach, except this time Angel just sounds forced and awkward. It makes you wonder why Viv just didn’t get Kovach back since it’s obvious she wanted to find someone so similar to him, and then you realize…oh yeah, Kovach wasn’t on Broadway or is a big singer. Micheal was really good at what he did as Angel too as everyone has already said so Viv fumbled the bag SO hard with these two it’s sad. I’m especially pissed about Alastor cause Bosco was the reason he was my favorite character and now he sounds so cringe.

Husk and Vox are played by two very talented actors/singers but their voices just don’t fit with the character design, though I’m not that against Christain Borle as Vox, the voice doesn’t fit the twink design but at the very least they got a man who sounds like a full grown adult playing a full grown adult lmao. Husk is a different story however, because it feels like Keith was picked to play him just because he was famous and nothing else. Back in the pilot, Viv had a specific voice in mind for Husk and she found it, aka Mick. He perfectly came off as an old washed up grumpy alcoholic, and Keith’s voice kinda just…erases all that personality. Sure Keith’s voice sounds cool but that’s it, it’s style over substance.

I wish I could say more about Charlie and Vaggie but I’m not sure what to say other then they kinda sound forced and awkward too, and I hate saying that cause they’re also played by two very talented actresses. Stephanie B played Mirabel from Encanto, she’s had voice acting experience before so I hope she ends up sounding good in the actual show. Erika meanwhile…I hate to say this but other than her singing voice there’s nothing really special about her as Charlie compared to Jill Harris, though even with Jill I never felt any strong feelings towards her performance.

Adam meanwhile, dear GOD I was right about him looking bad in animation form, his design sucks so fucking much. Fans were right, that’s Alex Brightman’s voice, he seems to be using his normal voice but just a tad deeper. He’s the only one who’s a fine choice, though I really wish we got to hear him as Pentious here!

But yeah in terms of the voice cast I’m just disappointed man, really disappointed. It makes you really realize how talented the pilot cast was. They were so good cause they were all chosen for a reason that wasn’t just “they’re famous” and it fucking sucks how bad Viv fumbled everything.

[bebravedearheart]

mergwaine + 48, for that ship+number prompt!

This has made me so happy! Sorry it's taken me so long, life has been busy, but I hope you like it!

Merwaine kiss ...out of habit

As first meetings went, theirs made for a good story at least. Although, when Gwaine told it he would of course add more heroics on his part, and leave out the fact he was unconscious with a knife embedded in his thigh.

He'd been grateful to Merlin since then, and Merlin had patched up far more scrapes and cuts since then, though luckily none as serious. Each time he'd woken in Merlin's cot in the anteroom of the physician's chambers he'd wanted to smile and flirt and show his appreciation, but he could never quite bring himself to. He feared ruining their friendship, couldn't bear it if Merlin turned away, or tried to say something to make him feel better in that awkward, endearing way of his.

Gwaine had never had a true friend before, and he valued it beyond measure. He took care to check in with Merlin when he looked glum, really listened to everything Merlin told him and felt chastised in a way he was not used to when Merlin was disappointed with him.

Merlin for his part seemed to be able to see through Gwaine; to pick apart his glib remarks when asked how he was. Gwaine hated it, and was more thankful for it than he could say.

And gods he wanted Merlin. Not just for a tumble. To wake up with each morning and kiss softly in the dawn. To fall asleep wrapped around, bodies entwined into one entity. To whisper in the dark all he couldn't say out loud when he was being looked at.

He would not breathe a word of this to anyone, of course. Merlin deserved far better than him, deserved someone beautiful, someone who knew how to say the right thing, someone who didn't cause so much trouble--even if Merlin didn't mind that.

To celebrate the King's coronation a feast was thrown--the first in many months; Arthur had been too preoccupied with his duties as regent and worrying about his father to keep up with anything more than the bare minimum of the courtly calendar. Now though, he seemed freer, like the shadow of anticipation was no longer weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Merlin was invited as a guest, not a servant. Gwaine grinned at that news, clapped him on the shoulder and told Merlin he'd have to come and borrow something nice to wear (though added that Merlin was the only person he knew who looked good in rags).

Merlin declined his offer with a laugh, giving him a playful shove and telling him Gwen had it well in hand.

Gwaine did not think a great deal of it, standing between Leon and Percival in the hall when the celebration came around with is customary cup of wine--sweeter than the usual vinegary swill they were served but still somehow better than the ale. He glanced up as the door opened to admit a latecomer, almost dropping the goblet. He saved himself from embarrassment, though he did not take his eyes of Merlin as he walked in with all the regal bearing of a man born to nobility. He wore an unspoiled white linen tunic, over which there was a jacket in pale green silk, belted at the waist and flaring out at the hips, falling to mid-thigh. On his legs Merlin wore deep, forest green breeches in velvet, fitting tightly to accentuate his slender legs. His hair was oiled back, smoothed and swept back from his head, far from its usual wild waves.

Gwaine was not the only one unable to tear away his gaze but he was the first to reach Merlin, bowing low. His noble manners came easily; old habits die hard, as they said. Gwaine did not think twice about taking Merlin's delicate hand in one of his own--too rough, calloused palms--and pressing a kiss to the back of it as if he were a lady. He heard Merlin's sharp intake of breath at his surprise and straightened up, catching a glimpse of the pink tinge high on Merlin's sharp cheekbones. With his usual grin, Gwaine snatched another goblet of wine from the tray of a passing servant and downed it without pausing for breath before he pulled Merlin in by the collar of his ridiculous coat and kissed him properly; deep and filthy. Old habits died hard, after all.

When they broke apart, Gwaine made to leave, to go and find something else to drink, someone else to bed to avoid any awkward conversation beginning with the words "I'm flattered but..." He got no further than a single pace when a hand curled around his wrist to stop him, pulling him back into a much gentler kiss. Merlin tasted of spices and smelled of herbs. "You scrub up well," Gwaine said against Merlin's lips. "And you had manners hiding somewhere."

[bloodyjuls-blog]

WHAT IF I LOSE YOU (part 3)

(I will fight to not lose you) - Alexia Putellas

There was a moment in my life where I wanted to give up, where everything was beyond me and what can you expect from a girl who grew up in Sutton running around with a soccer ball and who is now a super star? Life has never been easy, when you reach your teenage years and your social life overlaps with training, match day, recovery days? The only thing left was to do everything from home, from parties to drinking. Everything was easier without my parents at home, to be honest I grew up having everything, a big house, money, freedom and what I loved most after alcohol.... Football. When you become a professional nobody tells you the responsibilities and the exposure you bring with that and even if they say that women's soccer lacks attraction then they should have it checked because the pressure I felt playing for arsenal or city was very high and brought with it the expectation of the Barcelona soccer club to bring a star, to speak on and off the pitch. My younger days I remember with the talks with my parents for not being good enough to be in a professional league, which then when I achieved it would break me little by little because alcohol never left me, the faithful companion of my adventures.... Everything became a problem, I drank until the wee hours and made sure I got enough rest to perform the minimum in my club. Then my sister brings us the news of her pregnancy and I don't deny it, I always wanted to be a mother but there was a moment when my world came crashing down and I rejected the idea.

Flashback

It was the decisive league match for arsenal. We were facing Chelsea for the FA cup and the pressure from above forced us to win. But things always go wrong, that day I think I had one of the worst games of my life. I missed a lot of chances, I was always out of position and the worst thing is that my family was watching me from the stands.

At the dinner with my family, my father very disappointed tells me: "daughter I do not understand you, they tell us to come to see you and you play a shitty game" to which I a little upset I tell him: "if you are not interested then do not come, this is soccer" at the end of dinner the mood is lowered but my father there is something that does not fit, since I tried the first shot of vodka has made me bad faces. While I approach to take Ruppert, already 5 years old, my father takes him away from me and tells me: "I don't understand how they can want you in a club if you are an alcoholic, and much less I am going to allow you to take care of your nephews being in the conditions you are, do you think I didn't notice your flash of whiskey you had in your backpack or that you are going back home drunk, if something happens to you don't even bother to call me because I am not going to come and save your ass, you understand? " My tears were falling from my eyes, he had hurt me in a way I never thought he could. After all he was my father and I was his not so favorite daughter.

End of the Flashback

Alexia pov

"Hello, Ana. Do you know where y/n is?" I ask through the line in a worried voice. "No Ale, the only thing I know is that she had been drinking and left driving the car, I guess I'm guessing she's already in her apartment" Ana replied calmly. "Fuck this can't be" exclaimed Ale as she tried to call you back. "Ah I know who to call, maybe she has information" she thought calmer.

"Hi Leah how are you? It's Alexia" said Alexia calmly "Hi Alexia, well to what do I owe your call?" Answered Leah quizzically "I was wondering if you know anything about y/n, she called me a while ago and left me a little worried" you could tell from Alexia's voice that something wasn't right. "Ale the truth I don't know where y/n/n could have gone, what I do tell you is to please take care of her, and help with the alcohol issue she is not having a good time, and I am worried that something might happen to her" said a little more concerted Leah. "Of course, come on I'll leave you, I have another call coming in."

She answers the other call....

"Hello, is this Ms. Alexia Putellas?" A calm voice asks on the other line. "Who is calling?" answers a curious Alexia. "Ma'am this is the receptionist at Egarsat hospital speaking, I was speaking to inform you that Miss y/n y/l has been involved in an accident and you are listed as the emergency contact" Alexia at that moment felt tears fall from her eyes "yes this is her, tell me how is she? Tell me how is she?" says Alexia desperately "Ma'am the only thing I can tell you is that if you can, please go to the hospital as soon as possible, the emergency reception will tell you where to go" "thank you" says Alexia with an agitated voice.

Note: sorry I know had passed a couple of month but I'm near to graduate and that makes me full time persone and busy schedule. Love you all loads

[spiriteddreams]

because my love for you / is higher than words. / i have decided to fall silent. (nizar qabbani) or, the unspoken question he asks to himself, is he truly worthy of your love? ft. xiao, cyno, gojo satoru, kaveh, okkotsu yuta, al-haitham, inumaki toge cw: just angst :D

xiao, who wakes to nightmares still dancing in his vision. he doesn’t jolt awake or fall into a visible panic. he’s had years of practice to neutralize his expressions even when he is far from calm. next to him, you rest peacefully, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you dream. you and him are opposites, he thinks to himself, and not in the way that would make for a blossoming relationship. no, you are good and warm and kind and xiao? xiao is dark and worn down and believes himself to be undeserving of all you have to offer. he has tried many nights before to get up and go, because should the night come when you wake to his nightmares, he would never forgive himself. he grimaces at the thought of you seeing him so weak. so he gathers himself and forces himself to slip out of bed. he tucks you back in and swallows hard. if he knew you were awake and watching him go, would he still have left?

cyno, who doesn't turn around to look back at your figure in the window when he leaves on missions. if he turned around, like every cliche, he wouldn't be able to go. so instead he keeps his head up and continues to push forward. he can hear your prayers to the wind, asking him to look back, to give you one last reassurance that he will be okay and will return safely to your arms. cyno thinks that's unfair to ask of because he cannot even promise that himself. so perhaps this will be the last time he walks away. he’ll return to sumeru city with a successful mission behind him. he’ll be hailed as a hero by others, just as he always has been and yet he doesn’t feel he deserves their kindness. because when he returns to sumeru, will you be okay if he doesn't return to you?

gojo satoru, who hates the way you look at him. he does not deserve the softness in your eyes, can't you see all the pain he has caused others, the pain he has caused you? he grapples with grief in the first degree, mourning for those long gone, and those who are still alive. his web of lies extends far beyond his reach and even he has begun to lost sight of where it ends. when he gets caught up in his own troubles will he meet his end too? so to him, to end things now would cause less pain in the future. the thought of breaking up is like grief, and while you are still here, holding onto his heart with such tenderness it makes his own heart ache. he can only wonder, how can you grieve something that is still there?

kaveh, whose emotions run high and wild and he worries about every little action and word that has gotten him thus far. he is an over-thinker, and when he retreats into the darkest pockets of his mind, he replays every conversation he has ever had and asks himself why he couldn’t have said something different. he feels the shattering weight of disappointment on his shoulders, squeezing his chest as he stares at the melting candle on the table. was being an architect worth his time? has he done enough to prove his worth or will he find himself caught up in this cycle of mistake after mistake until they nail him six feet under. what happens when the light of kshahrewar begins to dim?

okkotsu yuta, who is guilty that you are caught up in this game of push and pull. he doesn’t mean to lead you on, no, yuta is a good person and he is so desperately trying to prove this. and yet he can’t help but let his fears slip through, and he hates the way they tear into you. the events of the night parade of a hundred demons has come to a close. he and the others are working slowly to rebuild their home, rebuild relationships, rebuild themselves in the process. he grieves a girl, a childhood crush who has haunted him for nearly all his life and he feels guilty. because you are right there, with your hand outstretched and waiting, just as patient as you always have been. he wants to ask why you still try. he loves you, oh he is so utterly in love with you and your warmth and patience and kindness but he doesn’t think he’s ready for your love. please, would you wait for him?

alhaitham, who swallows down the blunt words that threaten to spill out. he bites his tongue when he catches sight of your reaction, tense and ready to deflect against what he was going to say. was this how you felt, always putting up your defensives when you spoke to him because of the fear that he would tear you down? he wants to curse himself because when did he let it get to this point, when did silly banter become actual hurt? he doesn’t think he wants to know, because you stare at him with such unnerving silence that it begins to eat at him from inside out. words are powerful tools, of course he would know that, he’s a researcher of linguistics and yet he can't even reflect upon the weight of his own. “i love you” feels heavy on his tongue. he means it, wants to hold you and whisper it in your ears forever, but why is it so hard to say right now?

inumaki toge, who values the beauty and comfort silence. there is peace in the lack of words, but there is also the looming feeling of dread that stirs in his chest. he doesn’t know what to say, or write, or sign. threats are closing in, the imminent disaster upon the horizon. he has a feeling that shibuya will be a blood bath of physical and emotional hurt and yet he doesn’t know how to comfort you. his hands are glued to his side as he sits with his head lowered, trying to ignore your uneven breaths that are riddled with anxiety. he wants to tell you he loves you, that no matter what happens you will in his heart forever. he wants to tell you that everything will be okay and that both of you will return in good condition. in this moment of quiet, he hates his cursed speech more then ever. he wants to know, can you hear him screaming out his declaration of love amidst the silence?

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 a/n: write angst or write finals? i think you've figured out which one i've chosen this has so many tags wtf oh the things i do for the characters i love

[basilone]

A dose of Darlene to combat the winter blues, a dose of Benny/Darlene because softness is what I got right now, and a dose of Lottie being Lottie because that's how this gets kickstarted at all. I don't think any warnings really apply, beyond some innuendo, but I hope this is something that heals.

to be moved

Lottie loves out loud. Her affection drapes arms over shoulders, rests lips against cheeks and hair and brow, and holds hands no matter the occasion. She flirts without meaning to one minute and flirts with full intent the next, somehow managing to make neither version sound too serious. If you fall for the idea of it being serious anyway – and people often do, hook-like-sinker for that cocky smile and can-do attitude – she’ll let you down as easy as she can, which is to say that she’ll enforce a no with her fist if she has to and adopts a disappointed I thought we was havin’ fun tone if you can’t help but cry about it some.

She doesn’t often apologize. Darlene thinks it’s one of those things Lot just hasn’t been taught, same way she had to be told how to wash her clothes to keep ’em from shrinking. Same way she had to be told how much value really is in a dollar – you can only spend it one time, Lot, goddamn – because she was out here buying presents with cash that would’ve gotten them groceries for three months. That had taken a few solid weeks, looking back, and Darlene doesn’t doubt it’d take even more weeks for Lot to learn how to say sorry proper. Not that kinda glib sorry ’bout the mess she’s perfected – something that flies all right with her fellow pilots – but the kind of sorry that comes outta her toes and tells you she won’t do it again.

That poor ol’ sucker, she almost says out loud, eyeing Lottie’s easy smile at one of the English fellas. They’re on second drink only because Lot palmed her ginger ale off to Major Cleven and managed to make it look like an accident, which is already more than she woulda gotten away with back home. It’s like England’s not really prepared for the eventuality of a Lottie, who descends upon pubs with the air of a tropical storm battering against politely-offered umbrellas. Jesus Christ, Darlene wants to hiss, recognizing that casual flip of hair well enough, he’s already down, will ya stop kickin’ his teeth out?

She shakes her head. It’s one of those nights when she’s not my sweet girl for Lot, tucked away under the woman’s arm and cheek burning with all of Lottie’s kisses. It’s one of those nights she lost Lot’s hand the second the door swung open – it’s for the best, it’s okay, it’s what happens when you’re both girls and can’t sell the we’re just friends very well – and Darlene’s not sorry for it the longer she looks at what’s going on. Lot’s back is pressed against Major Cleven’s side, which Darlene’s sure she’s managed to excuse away as being stuck in a crowded space. Lot’s foot is on the other fella’s chair and her necklace glints up in the light, peeking out from underneath undone shirt buttons. Her smile’s unwavering, as is that little tilt to her head, and Darlene’s seen this work one too many times to not know how the rest of the night’s gonna go.

I don’t like the look o’ him, she’d still say, if she were close enough to Lot’s ear to be heard. He’ll be like that fella we brought home time before last – that one had wanted a picture of them kissing each other, as if that’s the kinda thing to stuff into one’s pocket – and ya know how much of a letdown that was. Darlene supposes maybe it’s different when she lets Lot go alone this time, though this fella don’t look like he knows the first thing about how to make Lot’s legs tremble at all. And Lot ain’t tricky about getting to that stage – though she says she is, but Darlene thinks that’s a special kind of balderdash she just says to make Darlene feel good about getting her there every time – but she’s gonna be catapulting off the walls of her bedroom in the mornin’ if she ain’t gonna get her fill tonight all the same.

Darlene’s just going to clean it all up when that happens. Won’t need to show the English fella to the door, because Lot’ll have gotten rid o’ him just fine after seven minutes of fumbled trying. Won’t need to hold Lot’s hair while she pukes, because she just pawned off her next glass of liquor to a passing Curt Biddick and knocked her water back instead. Will need to tut at Lot about poor choices, sure, and will need to kiss her until Lot sighs and says she’s really done trying this time. Will need to grin and tease and bear it a little longer until Lot forgets her jagged edges long enough to become soft and pliant and needy in a way Darlene understands better than she gets this broken funhouse mirror image Lot keeps trying to pull up. Will need to poke at this wound until it smarts worse than it does now, because she’s just never going to be enough for Lot but there are still moments when she undoubtedly is Lot’s entire universe.

“Hey,” she hears, then, and it sounds like this hey is just meant for her because of how soft-voiced it is, “mind if I sit?”

Darlene makes the mistake of glancing up. Is met with the full force of Bernard DeMarco’s tentative smile directed solely at her. His dark eyes are crinkled up in a way that makes his gaze look even friendlier. It’s warm in this corner of the pub – heat flushes her cheeks now that she feels it unfurl in her chest – and yet he looks unbothered by it enough. It probably helps that he’s not in a bulky flight jacket the way half these fellas still are, but in that leather one she’s always liked the look of far better.

“Uhh,” she says, which isn’t the smartest way to start a conversation. Blinks at him in an effort to gather her thoughts, which seem to have wandered off at the sight of his slightly undone collar. “S-Sure,” she nods, then, patting the empty chair beside her, “yours if ya want it.”

She doesn’t fully know why he wants that. Most of his crew’s keeping entertained near the game o’ darts – ain’t that where she saw him last, too? – and the rest of the folks they know are mostly stuck in that crowd around Major Cleven and Lottie. She’s already said bye to George, who begged off with a headache after first round, and the rest of the girls she came in with are either fanned out across the pub or gone back to base. It’s just her in this corner now, and she’s not really the kind of easy company a pilot like him might want.

“Thanks,” he says, and she flushes a little crimson when he settles down beside her with a sigh that sounds like it came deep outta his belly. “Had to get out of that game before Dickie and Curt took me to the cleaners”– he nods at the darts, where Biddick’s crowing victory –“and Buck’s not great company right now.”

“Major Cleven looks all right ta me?” she questions, glancing over at the man just to be sure. He certainly don’t look different – hand curled around his glass, toothpick between his lips – but she doesn’t really know him all too well. “I trust your judgment, though,” she amends, turning her attention back to the man who’d requested she call him Benny. “If ya say he ain’t, then he ain’t. You fly with him, not me.”

“He’s not all right while Ace keeps flirting with the guy he is most annoyed with,” snorts Benny, and it takes all of five seconds for Darlene to realize he means Lottie and the English fella with that comment. He glances to the side a moment before looking back at her. “I could almost swear she does it on purpose just because Buck doesn’t like him.”

“Yeah, that’s her all right,” agrees Darlene, because it does sound like a Lottie sort of thing to do to her new commanding officer. “And she knows all them English fellas because they been working with our fighter squads more than with y’all,” she elaborates, “so she don’t really think twice about flirting with them any. They know she used to fly them fighters before she went and got herself reassigned, so…” She shrugs. Smiles at Benny. “It’s just some itch that needs scratchin’, for her, and ya can tell the Major that if ya like.”

He makes no move to vacate his seat. If anything, he sinks a little deeper into it – his knee knocking against hers, his jacket brushing her arm – and seems to settle down beside her. He makes a little harrumphing sort of noise in the back of his throat, as though the suggestion of telling Major Cleven that little tidbit about Lot is one he’s wholly discarding for reasons unknown to her.

“Don’t you think this place is a little… weird?”

Darlene blinks at the question, which he managed to make sound earnest somehow. “What d’ya mean, sir?”

“Please,” he says, brow furrowed, barely containing his wince, “I’m just Benny. Not a sir.”

“All right then, just Benny,” she laughs, tucking her leg under her knee and getting comfortable in her own seat, “why do you think this place is weird?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs in a way that tells her he might yet know, but isn’t sure on how to say it. “It’s such a… Back home there’d be more dancing. And singing.” He lights one of his smokes. Offers her one, which she declines with a smile. “There’d be some games, sure,” he admits, “but all these tables… My cousins would make quick work of these, putting them up on the side and the chairs on top of that. Clear some space.”

“Space for dancin’?”

“Yes ma’am,” he grins, already gesturing at which tables they’d clear, already conjuring a hazy vision of it for her mind’s eye. Traces of smoke linger in the air, almost forming dancing shapes of their own where his fingertips were before. “The proper kind, too.”

Darlene can’t help but rest her chin atop her hand at that. “Now what in the world d’ya know about proper kind o’ dancin’, Bernard DeMarco?” she asks, smiling at him like she can definitely keep that secret if he decides to share. “And don’t you ma’am me now, ya hear? I won’t have that when ya got me callin’ ya Benny.”

He raises his hands in clear surrender. “Can’t tell you what I know,” he says, even though he’s leaning forward like he wants to share. “Would need to show you, and this place is not ready for that.” His grin’s as quick as his wink. “It’d be as proper as we make it, Darlene.”

Darlene. He remembers her name without being prompted to. Doesn’t try to make it sound like Arlene or Charlene the way folks do back home when they can’t quite recall the name her mama gave her. He says it the way it ought to be, except somehow he makes her name sound soft and wanting and…

“I ain’t that proper,” she warns him, grinning back now that she’s made a decision. “But there ain’t a reason why ya can’t show me, either. We got outside, don’t we?” She nods at the door. “Ain’t anybody in here that’ll miss us, not with your fellas caught up in their game and Lot caught up in her stupid flirting.”

And it is stupid, now that she really thinks about it some. It’s something so perfectly Lottie, sure enough, because a girl who’s rich enough to make bad decisions with her money sure ain’t gonna fare better making decisions about her life any. She knows all the reasons why Lot goes and plays that kinda game over and over again, but Darlene’s told her time and again that it don’t mean she’s gotta play it with Lot any. It’s certainly not something worth sticking around and ruining her own night for.

“C’mon, Ben,” she coaxes, rising to her feet and offering her hand to him. “Let’s make this place less weird.”

She doesn’t look back once his hand wraps around hers. Does give herself a little shake – that was not a jolt of electricity, no sir – when he holds on to it for longer than she’d thought he would. When his fingers actually tangle with hers, squeezing down just a little, and he guides her to the door as though she’s his actual date for the night. If you was Orpheus, she suddenly thinks, I would be doomed to the underworld because you’d glance at me every time, you’d not walk all that damn way without wanting to see me following you there.

Darlene doesn’t mention that, though the thought makes her draw even closer to him once they pass through the door. She’s always loved the story – of course you’d look back to see your beloved, of course you’d want to – and thinking of that makes her think of how tonight would look to an artist. She’d paint herself in shadows, even her red hair barely catching glints of the light. She’d paint him in warmth – the pub had made him look tanned and full of sunshine – just to translate the feeling she gets from his hand tangled with hers. She’d draw them separate first, then winding together in a flurry not unlike the one she’s battling on the inside now.

He releases her hand just to turn around and bow to her, which is the most ridiculous thing of all.

“Ben–”

“Darling Darlene,” he interrupts, smiling at her like he already knows all the next steps, “will you please do me the honor”– and he makes it sound so sincere, so believable, that she stands and simply gawks at him –“of giving me your hand so I can lead you in our dance?”

He calls me darlin’. Means it, too, because he ain’t the type to say something he don’t mean. “I dunno about honor,” she hedges, fingertips already brushing his knuckles, “but I’d love to dance with ya, beautiful Benny.”

His laugh is instantaneous. Warmer than any paint or pencil of hers could ever hope to catch. “Beautiful, huh?”

“Gotta say it one time,” she admits, “in the hopes that you don’t get too big for that plane o’ yours hearing summat like that.” She grins when he ducks his head. “Seems I just got you shy instead, huh,” she teases, though his hand fastens around hers and his arm wraps around her waist in a clear negation of such a statement. “I did ask George who that handsome fella with the dog was when y’all landed, ya know”– and she’s done pretending she never did, done holding back on that –“so it ain’t like I changed my mind between now and then.”

“God, you just…” He laughs again, warm and full and buzzy against her ear. There’s a gentle sway to his steps that she follows without thinking, leading her further away from the pub’s door. “You’re making things hard, Darlene, you know that?”

“I’ve been told I do,” she grins, unapologetic, and lets out a giggle when he casts his eyes to heaven. “Come on now, ya knew I was gon’ say that. There’s a reason why folks at home call me tacky and shameless.”

His hand tightens around her waist. “Folks at home are wrong about you.” He says it with such quiet conviction that it almost makes her grow too still, too incapable of following his next motions. “And jokes that are also true aside,” he murmurs, “what I meant was that you’re making it hard for me not to fall in love with you.”

“You…”

“Sorry,” he says, guiding her into a spin that takes her out of his arms. “I wasn’t gonna say that part.”

“But ya did,” she says, ignoring his outstretched hand and making up a few swaying steps of her own. If she thinks about anything other than the next move, she knows there’s not gonna be anything left to hold back. “So now we’re dancin’ with that, too.”

“We don’t have to, it’s just some… something I feel. It doesn’t have to…” His hands find her waist. A small curl’s escaped his perfectly coiffed hair. “It doesn’t have to matter.”

She reaches up for that curl before she can stop herself. Brushes it back, then rests her hand against his cheek. She doesn’t think anyone’s claimed to be in love with her before. Lot’s come closest – love ya, Dar – but even that didn’t quite feel like… Didn’t feel like Benny. Didn’t feel as earnest, as honest, as open.

It does matter.

So she kisses him. Winds her arms around his neck and pulls him so close that they simply fit without trying. Meets his mouth with hers because that’s what she’s been wanting to figure out for the better part of a few weeks now. Lets him muffle a sound of surprise in her kiss, lets him press back and squeeze her to him so tight, lets his hand tangle in her curls that have already escaped their past confinement. They’re still swaying to music unheard – to Orpheus’ lyre, or their own hearts – and he makes no effort to spin her out of his arms again.

He winds her closer to him, kissing back, kissing her like she thinks people kiss in those love stories that were never hers. Kissing her with so much care that she definitely falters in their dance. He catches her missed steps with a smile against her lips, a stray touch of lips against her cheek, a murmured I got you that feels safer to her than any plane’s landing.

Darlene doesn’t love out loud. Doesn’t think she knows how, not yet, not in this way she’s feeling right now, in that way that’s entirely too big for her. Thinks she’ll learn, sometime, when she follows his steps right, and memorizes him as he is now. Silhouetted against the horizon, with a smile just for her, holding her like she is something dear.

She thinks she’ll paint him in warmest colors, like the setting sun.

[eretzyisrael]

by Lionel Shriver

Although some say we’ve passed peak woke, the modern left’s authoritarian impulse to push other people around is alive and well. It’s just that a memo must have gone out to the faithful that the agenda has switched, and now instead of black lives mattering or the climate changing, they’re all to lose their wits over Israel and stick it to the Jews. These are very obedient disciples.

Last week, some 400 writers, including Sally Rooney and Arundhati Roy, signed a letter calling for a mass boycott of the Israeli publishing industry, excepting those who have denounced the “genocide” in Gaza. Now, Rooney, Roy, and their colleagues are certainly well within their rights to get exercised about the gravel pit that used to be Gaza. Because these are writers, you’d think their best route to making their feelings known would be, um, to write. After all, the impulse to form a mob is surely antithetical to the impulse to record your thoughts in text in private and to have your unique voice broadly heard. Me, I’ve never been a joiner, and I used to think my literary brethren weren’t joiners either, much less bullies. But even for writers, this is an age of aggressive groupsterism.

In addition to boycotting Israeli book festivals, literary agents, and publishers, Rooney et al. also refuse to allow their own work to be translated into Hebrew and published in Israel. Ironically, like most Western literary subcultures these days, Israel’s is predominantly left wing, so the Rooney brigade is seeking to punish its natural political allies.

But the intention is not only aimed at punishing Israel’s tiny cultural institutions. The boycott seeks to go well beyond the signatories and intimidate all authors into withdrawing their work for consideration at Israeli publishing houses and refusing to participate in Israeli festivals. That includes writers who disagree with the organizers and do not believe that the IDF’s effort to root out Hamas qualifies as genocide as well as a range of Jewish writers in and outside of Israel whose views on this war may be tortured or finely nuanced. Because we must all speak as one. As ever, a single perspective is permissible. Writers used to enjoy conflict, complexity, contradiction—duking it out on paper or raucously talking over each other on a festival panel. Now we chant in a unified chorus.

I’m not so vain as to imagine that my refusal to have my novels translated into Hebrew would be crushing for the Israeli publishing industry or cripplingly disappointing for the country’s reading public. I’m delighted to learn whenever I’ve secured a translation deal, so in case any Israeli editors are reading this, allow me to go on the record: The Hebrew translation rights to my last novel are still available. And in case you might be reading this, Sally, whether I sell Hebrew translation rights is none of your business. Besides, to the degree that my fiction is the best expression of my own larger political outlook, disseminating my novels as far and widely as possible constitutes the optimal method of promoting that outlook. Publishing in translation sure beats prissily refusing to allow my precious sentences to be corrupted by the language of Jews.

[harunayuuka2060]

Kid MC: Dad? What kind of student gets to be a housewarden?

Malleus: Hmm... I think those who have great magical abilities, smart, and other good qualities that surpass others.

Kid MC: Okay. Then why is the housewarden of Scarabia a housewarden?

Malleus: Al Asim?

Kid MC: Hm!

Malleus: Why?

Kid MC: For starters! He's an idiot. And he always talks about empathy!

Kid MC: And he always causes trouble for his vice-housewarden!

Malleus: Sounds like you have a problem with Al Asim.

Kid MC: I do! *pouts* He ate the ice cream I made for you and he didn't replace it!

Malleus: *laughs* *hugging them* It's alright. Can't you just make another one for me?

Kid MC: I can but— *groans in frustration*

Malleus: *pets their head* I understand your frustration. Knowing you, you might've spent a lot of time making it.

Kid MC: My arms were numb from shaking the bag. Hmph.

Jamil: Kalim, didn't I tell you to replace the ice cream you've eaten?

Kalim: Yikes! Sorry! I totally forgot!

Jamil: *sigh* Listen. The housewarden of Diasomnia had approached me and expressed the disappointment of his child to you.

Kalim: ...

Kalim: They're angry?

Jamil: Yes.

Kalim: ...

Kalim: I'll go there and apologize!

Jamil: Buy them an ice cream first!

Kalim: We're quits now, okay?

Kid MC: *frowning at him*

Kalim: No?

Kid MC: It's not even the same flavor.

Kalim: They don't have the same thing at the store.

Kid MC: Of course because the one you've eaten is home-made. Ever considered of making a new one to replace that?

Kalim: I'm not good with cooking. Hehe.

Kid MC: ...

Kid MC: *grabs his hand and starts dragging him*

Kalim: Um... Where are we going?

Kid MC: In the kitchen. I will teach you to cook.

Lilia: Are you alright, Kalim? You look exhausted.

Cater: No. In fact, he looks beyond exhausted. What happened?

Kalim: MC taught me how to cook and I can proudly say that I know now how to make soup and fried dish!

Cater: ...

Lilia: *starts laughing*

Cater: Lils? Malleus's kid is like that?

Lilia: Why, yes. I bet they think that Kalim here looks hopeless.

Kalim: Huh? Why? Do I give off that impression?

Cater: Unfortunately, man. Yeah.

Kid MC: Dad! Eat some more!

Malleus: Where did you get all these food?

Kid MC: I cooked them with Sir Kalim!

Silver: Please excuse me as I grab some more—

Sebek: SILVER! THAT'S MY PLATE!

Malleus: Are you good with Al Asim now?

Kid MC: *nods* But I still think he's an airhead.

Sebek: Dammit, Silver! Stop grabbing food from my plate!

Silver: I would if you didn't put all Kalim's cooking in my plate.

Malleus: How do you know the food is Kalim's?

Silver: It's barely edible.

Sebek: The little human's food is barely edible too!

Kid MC: ...

Kid MC: *starts pulling his plate away from him*

Sebek: THAT IS A JOKE OBVIOUSLY!

Malleus: *laughs*

[nostalgiclittlespace]

can you write a fic about CG!Rosie looking after Little!Vox for the day but Vox is jealous that Rosie's paying more attention to Alastor?

(Vox''s little age is 2-3 and Alastor's little age is 0-2)

Sure thing, anon! Here you go, I hope you enjoy :). Al and Vox are needy Littles, but we love them 😁. And Rosie is the perfect CG of course. (I definitely didn’t project my longing for affection and insecurity onto Vox, why would you think that)

SFW, PLATONIC AGE REGRESSION FIC. DNI IF NSFW, KINK, PROSHIP, OR SIMILAR. DO NOT REPOST TO OTHER SITES.

Title: Double Trouble Word count: 1316

Pairing: Little! Vox & Little! Alastor & CG! Rosie.

Summary: While Rosie is babysitting two Little Overlords, Alastor and Vox, the latter starts to feel left out. Big feelings, minor tantrums, and forgiveness happens.

Double Trouble

The room over Rosie’s Emporium echoed with the squeals and playful madness of the two Little ones Rosie was currently babysitting.  There, they were protected from the gruesome, Hellish nonsense happening beyond the Emporium.  Even for three Overlords, perhaps the three strongest sinners in all Hell, this safety was beyond welcome.

Well, though it was safe, it certainly wasn’t peaceful.  Both Vox and Alastor had the unfortunate habit of discovering trouble.  Luckily, Rosie had grown adept at wrangling them, and keeping them entertained.

At the moment, random toy cars, rattles, tethers, and stuffed animals littered the shared play area.  Rosie, Alastor, and Vox sat amongst the chaotic, playtime mess as well, the latter two crawling and playing wildly.  Rosie, much more composed, handed Alastor his pacifier (he had been attempting to chew his fingers again.)

“Here you go, hun.  Much better, hm?” Auntie Rosie smiled softly, placing the soother into his mouth.

Alastor mumbled something in reply, immediately crawling closer and clambering into her lap.  His incoherent babbling only increased Rosie’s fondness and grew her smile wider still.

Something Vox noticed very quickly.

Crawling over to her, he tugged on her sleeve.

“I wanna play wit’ you more!” he informed her, holding out a toy car for her to steer.

“Okay, darling.  Just a minute, alright?” Rosie smiled at him before returning her attention to Alastor, who had pulled on her collar the moment she paid any attention to the other Little.

Vox pouted to himself, hugging his toy car to his chest.  He didn’t like it when Auntie Rosie gave all her attention to Alastor; it just wasn’t fair!  She was his Auntie too!

Silently, Vox pouted, watching the way Rosie held Alastor in her lap.  The icky feeling lingered and increased every second he watched them.  He just wanted it to be fair, for him to get the attention Alastor did in equal measure.

Looking around the room, he looked for a way to get Rosie’s attention.  His eyes fell on the train set Alastor had been building together earlier that day.  The railroads had been put together, animals and trees on the sidelines, and even several town buildings had been crafted from colorful blocks.

A haphazard, juvenile plan formed in his mind and he wandered to the toy tracks.  Without thinking of consequence, only that Rosie would finally tear her eyes away from Alastor, Vox gave the toy trains a good kick, thus knocking them over with a clatter.

Vox stood over the newly made mess, and before he could really comprehend whether he did the right thing, an unhappy shriek pierced the air behind him.

“Vox!” Rosie called him, her voice stern but not accusatory.  “Did you tip over Alastor’s trains?”

“Yes,” he replied, seeing no point in lying,

“And was it an accident?” Rosie inquired while Alastor whined in disappointment as he surveyed the disaster area.  His pacifier had fallen out of his mouth, Vox noted, and his permanent smile had turned utterly strained.

“No,” Vox answered stiffly.

Rosie stared at him for a moment.  After a few beats, she managed to give Alastor his pacifier back, and he was momentarily appeased.

“Okay.  Why did you wreck Al’s toys then?” she asked, not raising her voice in the least.

Nonetheless, Vox slowly realized that maybe this wasn’t the best path to take.  She only felt bad for Alastor, not for him!  Why wasn’t she caring more about him!?

“Because!” he settled on angrily.

“Was it because of a big feeling?” Rosie asked, taking the outburst in stride.  This wasn’t the first time she had dealt with tantrums, and she knew full and well that they could manifest due to overwhelm.

Considering her question, Vox paused for a moment.  Was seeing Alastor get all the attention causing a big feeling?  Yes, it was.  And one he couldn’t very well explain either.

“Yes,” Vox replied stiffly.

“What kind of feeling was it?  Were you scared, sad?” Rosie’s voice maintained its usual compassion.

“I don’t know!” Vox grumbled, pouting and stamping his foot.  He wrung out his hands and rocked back and forth, trying to rid himself of the sticky, infectious feelings that still lingered.

Luckily, Rosie always knew what to do.  Placing a hand on his shoulder, she squeezed it reassuringly—thus keeping his attention on the present.  The familiar touches ebbed away at the bad emotions a little too.

“How about you color me a picture to show me?” Rosie suggested.

Vox thought for a moment before nodding.  Drawing a picture to show the big feelings they really couldn’t explain had become a frequent activity in their safe haven.  The weight of being an Overlord thrust upon a child often left both Alastor and Vox drained, irritable, or even plain sad.  Rosie’s idea to color the feelings made them a lot easier to understand.  And somehow, she could interpret the colors, the strength of their stroke, and the shapes without failure.

Crawling over to their craft table, Vox snatched a piece of paper, then sifted through the crayons.  Rosie, with Alastor held on her hip, approached the table as well, sitting beside and watching him.

Black and green crayons scribbled across the paper in wild, fast lines.  The colors blended together nonsensically—a stark contrast to Vox’s usual care in his art projects.  

Rosie didn’t say anything until he set all the crayons back into their box.  With his pout not quite gone, he slid the sheet over to her. 

“It looks like you were feeling an awful lot, darling,” Rosie said gently as she admired it.  “What made you feel so upset, hm?”

Vox kicked his foot, staring down at the floor.  

“Al gets all the attention,” Vox grumbled quietly.

“I see.  Were you upset when I was talking to Al and not playing cars with you?”

“Yeah,” Vox nodded. 

Rosie thought for a moment before opening the arm that wasn’t currently holding Alastor.  Vox, feeling a little vindicated, accepted the hug.  With a quick adjustment, both he and Alastor fit perfectly in her arms.

“How about, after Alastor goes down for his nap, we can have some play time.  Just the two of us,” Rosie suggested.

“Really?” Vox inquired.

“Yes, really.  But you will still need to take your nap too, mister.  But I think we can delay it by fifteen minutes.”

“Okay.  T’ank you, Auntie Rosie,” Vox smiled, hugging her again.

“You’re very welcome, hun,” she laughed softly.  “But, first things first; you need to apologize to Alastor, then put his trains back together.  Can you do that?”

Vox nodded, knowing the punishment fit the crime.  It wasn’t even punishment really—it was only fair that he fixed the mess he made.  And Vox only wanted things to be fair after all.

Turning to Alastor, who stared right back with wide doe eyes, Vox said genuinely, “I am sorry I wrecked your train station, Al.  I’ll put it back just the way it was.  Do you forgive me?”

Alastor’s expression and ears quirked in thought for a moment before his head bobbed a short nod.  Crawling out of Rosie’s lap, the little Radio Demon snagged Vox’s hand and toddled them both over to the toys.  Plopping down, Alastor patted the spot next to him, clearly gesturing for Vox to sit too.

Vox gladly obliged, and immediately replaced all the wooden tracks and the plastic wildlife he had toppled.  Rosie followed shortly behind them, watching the two play and make up. 

She tapped Vox on the shoulder, saying, “Good job, dear.  And remember that if you feel left out, you just need to tell me.  I’m sorry if I made you feel like Alastor gets all my attention.”

“I forgive you, Auntie Rosie,” Vox smiled softly. 

He gave her a quick hug, until Alastor pulled on his sleeve, wordlessly demanding that he return his attention to the very important business of trains tracks.  

[kanmom51]

Seven JK MV a little sum up

cr./creators of media used in this post.

Who would have thought I'd be sitting here smiling while admitting just how wrong I was with my short analysis of the Seven teaser.

LMAO.

I did admit I was bullshitting though. You gotta give me that.

But man, was I wrong.

Yellow rose, glasses, wtf, chandelier on the old couple's table. Wth was I thinking of?

Let's sum up for a second what we had in the MV:

Doing laundry

check.

Making up in the rain - check.

Same ring and necklace during the rain scene - check .

During other scenes we have just the regular special necklace - check.

Necklace on in opening scene and train scene (hard to see but it's there), laundry scene, stretcher scene, high in the sky scene.

Basically, other then when he's dead, Monday thru Sunday he's got his special necklace on.

Titanic reference...

check.

Also, placement of hands a choice.

And the before and after are not to be ignored either.

JM inspired/mirroring photo shoot check.

Dance challenge outfit - muddy jeans, shirt with print on back that looks like butterfly wings (sue me), special necklace.

Dance challenge backup dancers - male. Period.

One of them Brian Puspos, who happens to be the choreographer of Serendipity, gulp.

Dance choreo also mirrored at points. Backup dancers at the beginning look like JM's serendipity choreo and JK also has moves like JM's from LC.

Boy in luv indeed.

Might come back with more. Still finding something new every time I watch the MV. And I'm watching it A LOT.

Also, GMA starting shortly, can't wait for whatever JK and JM have install for us.

[materassassino]

O or V for Joe and/or Nicky

Took me a while to write this, it required research into something I know fundamentally nothing about, but it's cursory research, so if anyone sees any mistakes point them out. Or don't, exercise discretion.

There are many more things I could write about for this, but it was getting far too long.

Minific prompts!

---

O - the stars or space

“Have you seen this?”

Nicolò careens in, breathless, and almost slams a book on the table. His heart is pounding, the wonder of it all, he knows, is writ large on his face. Yusuf stares at him, bewildered for a moment, before he gets the book thrust in his face.

De revolutionibus orbium coelestium.

He blinks at it. “Astronomy?” he asks, tentatively.

“It changes everything,” Nicolò says, rifling through it. “Look, see here—” he taps an image of many concentric circles, “—look at the centre.”

Yusuf does as he is told, and whistles. “The Sun, hm?”

Nicolò nods, picking up the book again. “This is incredible. It makes so much sense.” He sits heavily in the chair, flicking through to the tables. “We are tethered to the Sun, all of us. It is a great dance, and we are but one of the dancers.”

Yusuf hums, and when Nicolò looks up at him, he has a besotted look on his face.

“When you think of the sciences, you become a poet,” he says, and Nicolò turns pink. He closes his book and sets it on the table, a hand upon it, but his eyes do not leave Yusuf’s.

“There are wonders both down here and up there, my love,” he says. “And we might live long enough to see them learnt.”

--

“Look, see there!”

Nicolò takes the telescope from Galileo’s hands with unhidden reverence, swallowing. With this, he will see further than most other people on Earth ever have, beyond the edges of their own sky into the very firmament they once thought so fixed. All those men who wrote those treatises he devoured five hundred years ago – Aratus of Soli, Aryabhata, Ptolemy, Albumasar, Al Bitruji, a hundred others – would have given their own weight in gold to see what he will see now. He trembles slightly as he raises it to his eye.

The night is balmy, thick with the heat of the Tuscan summer, and the sky is a brilliantly clear mass of studded stars. He has seen those a thousand times before, charted them, he knows the names of the constellations in five languages. The Moon is a crisp sliver, a cat’s claw, and beyond that… Jupiter.

Brighter than he’s ever seen it, and scattered around it, four dots. His breath hitches.

“Moons,” he says, and Galileo rubs his hands together.

“Exactly, my lad!”

Nicolò lowers the telescope, gazing up with his naked eyes. Jupiter shrinks, and its pinprick companions vanish into nothing, merging with the rest of the many, many stars above them. It is a strange contrast, he thinks, how much smaller the vastness looks when viewed through Galileo’s device, and how much smaller he himself feels when the great dome of the night sky is above them, clear from horizon to horizon.

“Wondrous,” he murmurs. Galileo tugs on his beard, clearly pleased with himself, but the compliment was not for him, and not even for his device.

No matter how close the sky might seem, it is still so very far away.

--

Andy had not been pleased when he’d asked.

“You want to interrupt our mission to watch some TV?!” she snaps. Nicky’s heart was thudding.

“Please, Andy,” he begs. “I have to see this. I have to.”

“We’re in the middle of the fucking jungle!” she hisses, gesturing around them. Nicky can see that, it’s where they’ve been for months and months now, border-hopping, skulking, getting themselves burnt and torn to shreds and blown to smithereens over and over and over, every life saved a hard-won blessing. But this…

“Please. Anywhere with a television, I don’t care.”

She turns away from him as if disgusted with him, and that makes his heart constrict. He hates to disappoint her like this.

“He never requests anything, Andy,” Joe says, his voice far more vicious than usual. This meatgrinder of a war has been taking its toll on him, and when Joe becomes bitter, it is a sign things are going very, very badly. “You can at least give him this!”

“I agree,” Booker says, and both Nicky and Joe look at him in surprise. “I want out of this shithole for a moment too, honestly.”

Andy runs a hand down her face. The bags beneath her eyes are deep, and her eyes have a dead-fish look to them. It’s a look that’s mirrored on all of them, and they have seen so much war already, centuries, millennia of it.

“Fine,” she mutters. “We might even get to Hanoi in time.”

Nicky is rarely effusive with anyone but Joe, but he throws his arms around her, holding her desperately tight.

“Thank you! Thank you!” He is grateful in every language he knows, and a miraculous sound occurs to that: she laughs. He can’t remember the last time she laughed. Thin, reedy, a vaporous, ephemeral thing, but it’s still a laugh.

They don’t make it to Hanoi, unfortunately – that was always a fool’s gambit anyway – but they stumble into Vinh Vien. It is mostly ruins, a sight that twists itself like a knife in Nicky’s gut, but it seems some mad luck is with them: they do find a television that is intact, and works, and a generator Andy siphons some of their precious petrol into. Some curious children wander over, bewildered by the sight of these foreigners fiddling with a television, and Booker gestures them over, offering them Russian sweets which they take with bright grins and giggles.

They crowd around it, the four of them on upturned crates and the children clustered in front, and are joined by some adults, desperate for a distraction. They amass quite the audience.

Nicky explains, in his Vietnamese scattered with quaint, ancient words he hasn’t quite gotten rid of yet, what is happening.

“The Moon?” an old man asks, dubious.

“The Moon,” Nicky replies, a lump in his throat.

He watches, transfixed, as the module touches down. The view is monotonous, a flat plain of grey rock to a black horizon, but he almost cannot breathe: this is as far as humanity has ever gone. He watches the man in the bulky suit descend the ladder and touch the surface, and it doesn’t matter that this man is American, just as it did not matter that Yuri Gagarin was Soviet. What do these petty Earthly feuds matter so far away? There is only wonder and mystery, and the breathless revelation of knowledge.

(Yes, he knows well this is a pissing contest between children, but does not care, in this moment.)

The children around them break into shrill cheers. He gasps softly. “One small step for a man” indeed.

Joe, beside him, threads their fingers together, and Nicky’s squeezes them because he cannot tear his gaze away, even to look at the love of his life. Booker whistles, leans over to Andy.

“Did you ever dream we’d do this, six thousand years ago?” he asks. Andy is quiet for a long moment.

“Everything was so much smaller then,” she says, her voice cracking. “And yet so much bigger.”

That is precisely how Nicky feels, though he couldn’t possibly find the words right now. They are sitting in the ruins of a city, years into a seemingly never-ending war which does nothing but tear people to pieces with no objective or remorse, and yet… and yet Nicky feels a kernel of hope within him.

“Do you think,” he murmurs, leaning his head closer to Joe’s, “that we will ever go beyond?”

“Who knows, my love… We have already gone further than we ever dreamt. How much further can space be?”

Nicky chuckles, and squeezes Joe’s hand once more.

[icycoldninja]

Can you write a reader who is a volunteer working at a raptor rehabilitation center with the DMC boys?

She tells them abt her experiences of working with multiple raptors like Bald headed eagles; Vultures; Falcons; Kites (yes the 🪁 was named after the bird, not the other way around); Owls; Hawks;… Her favorites are the Eagles, especially the Harpy Eagle as in her word, relatively docile and its face card does not decline

She also educate visitors abt each raptors and their traits, hunting strategy, habitats,etc

She also gushes to them abt how cute and heavily misunderstood vultures are. In fact, Turkey vultures seem to have a genuine curiosity about people and objects. Roosts are often near humans. In wildlife rehabilitation centers where injured turkey vultures are treated and in the wild, they have been known to bond with a certain individual and follow them around, watching their activities. One story tells of a turkey vulture that found "its person" in a town of 12,000 people. A turkey vulture in rehab will often bring someone an object and then play "tug-of-war." Caretakers who have worked with them have found them to be "...gentle, inquisitive, and very intelligent". Another story tells of a group of turkey vultures playing together every evening with a ball left out in someone's yard.

She even named one of the vultures who bonded with her after the boys because of how affectionate it is, like an oversized stinky feathered puppy.

But mainly; she finds this job to educate people on the importance of protecting some endangered species or species that have a high risk of being endangered, clear up misconceptions abt certain raptors and defend any raptors that got heavily demonized by lots of people

P/S: Do you know that all birds of prey can be raptors but not all raptors can be birds of prey? Also raptors are not a family reunion, more of a description (Jurassic pedicure; god-tier eyesight; sharp-hooked beak)

(This is a Harpy Eagle, they’re cute)

Yes, those eagles are very cute. Looks just like Vergil, really.

Sparta boys + V x Raptor caretaker!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante loves hearing interesting tidbits about raptors and listening to you explain multiple times that raptor does not mean dinosaur, it refers to specific types of birds.

-Visiting the rehabilitation center is always a noisy, smelly experience but it's fun!

-He loves following you and your tour group around, even though he didn't pay, just happy to be there, looking at birds and listening to you ramble on.

-You talk so much about turkey vultures it makes Dante hungry. He ends up eating turkey sandwiches whenever you tell him a story.

-So, a turkey vulture once found its "person" among 12,000 humans? Doesn't that sound somewhat familiar? Didn't Dante find his special person among billions of humans? Yeah, you get the connectoon.

-Thinks it's so cute for you to have named one of the vultures you care for after him.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil had some respect for birds but not much else. He initially didn't want to go see your rehabilitation center, but you talked him into it.

-He ended up changing his mind about raptors after spending the day there. He found that they are mostly loud, smelly, squawking creatures that he does not find pleasant to be around.

-How you can keep your cool and even touch those things is beyond him.

-The only raptor he liked was the harpy eagle, mostly because it looked somewhat like him. You did not hesitate to point this out.

-He grew very bored of your turkey stories very quickly and once dozed off while you talked.

-When you showed him the vulture you named after him, Vergil wasn't sure if he should be offended or complimented. While vultures certainly share some of his physical characteristics, they are filthy carrion creatures. Do they deserve his respect?

□ Nero □

-Nero used to love dinosaurs as a kid, so when you told him you worked with raptors, he immediately thought of Jurassic Park.

-He was rather disappointed but also very interested to discover that raptors to not refer to meat eating velociraptors, but rather specific types of birds with certain characteristics.

-Was very curious to see and hear about kites. Not the toy, the bird.

-You are very enthusiastic about turkey vultures and that enthusiasm has transferred to Nero. Now neither one of you can stop geeking out over them.

-Is filled with this sense of familiarity whenever he's around harpy eagles.

-Can't stop laughing upon realizing you named a vulture after him.

● V ●

-V is very comfortable around birds thanks to taking care of Griffon all the time.

-He is very curious about the different raptors you take care of, and surprisingly, knew what a raptor was without you having to explain.

-He is loved by all the birds. Whenever you take one out of its enclosure to show it to your tour group, it immediately flies over to V's shoulders.

-Griffon tries to start conversations with your raptors and gets upset when they don't respond.

-V is considering volunteering to work alongside you because he really enjoys being around you, and squawking, stinky, constantly defacating birds.

-When he discovered you named a vulture after him, he was so touched. What a sweet gesture!

[ome-magical-ramblings]

An Updated index to my blog

(updated 24-10-2023) (updated 27-05-2024) I figured out people might have wanted a more of a "guide" or "index" to my blog that might be more preferable than just letting someone dig through my blog, I will be updating this blog overtime. I also offer tarot reading and magical spell/ritual service depending on consultation, divination, and figuring out your country's currencies and adjusting my rates and the task at hand, throwing that out of the way if you are thinking about that. I do magical service and readings for pay, you can contact me and ask me about it if you're wondering. Book Review: Greatness of Saturn, A Therapeutic Myth My free publications: Sandalphon: Archangel of Malkuth Sandalphon's spirit portrait by @desdemonasarchives Business and Money Psalms Magic for Traveling Long distance Kefizat Haderech/Tay Al Ard Virtue of Quranic VersesFour Wheels of The Enchiridion

Akshaya Tritiya and A Collecting of folklore Quranic benefits,

Prayers, rituals: Prayer for knowledge/studying(Occult/Mundane Knowledge) Dream Oracle Adam's Prayer Liber Resh PGM-based Qi Ball and Helios Rite Invocation of Light Hagith's Home Sweetening Ophiel's Mercury Retrograde Mitigation Ritual Stick Pad's Divination Affordable 7 days candle where you can't buy it Visualization Advice from Ophiel New Memory Improvement Spell from Grimoire of Pope Leo Prayer of Crowns Arabic Translation The Ladder and Spring for Scrying elemental Kingdoms Kerubic Prayers for 4 stations of the sun. Virtue and Spells to the see the Prophet(Mohammed) Setting Light into the Past, for Spells, Ancestors and Beyond. Magical usage of Prayer of Crowns Incense Series ( Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 ) More new stuff Offering and Salutations to the Teachers practice, outline, and technique. Contacting Ophiel with Pen and Paper.

Praying with Flowers and St Justina

Wish fulfilling power of Verse of Throne

Log and record of practice:

Signs of Witchcraft ( Part 1 , Part 2 )

Spirit Stealing Offerings

Radionics Magical experiments

Elelogap's Purification work

7 Weeks of Arbatel/Olypmic spirits work

Geometric Entities and 3d polygons-like nature spirits.

Daimon of Sodom's Apple ( Part 1 , Part 2 coming soon )

Hagith's Flower

Grimoire of Sixfold star's Series: The Method Elnafi( Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , finale ) Rimori( Part 1 ) halting 44 days of Psalm 119

Scrying The Elemental Kingdoms Method ( Air , Earth , More Air , More Earth , Water! , FIRE ) Meeting Angalaparameshwari! Thoughts and contemplations:

In Praise of Mistakes and Mishaps

craft on oil/consecrated oil

Magical results and time scale.

Variance in magical languages and Pronunciation Circumambulation Magical Rings Closed Practices, Initiation, and gate-keeping practices. "the most powerfull exercise you did", Stacking prayers, and praying with spirits and entities. Concept of Werd/Daily Recitation or prayers.

ABLANATHANALBA's formula breakdown and experiment ( Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 ) At a Crossroad The power of the Cross The Crossing of Magical Currents Purification Practice Sincerity and Severity and advice for spirit communication. Being Hard on oneself and other. Sadness, Disappointment, and 3 of Swords God does not burden any soul beyond its capacity. The Golden Chain, lineages, egregores...and the open secret to initiation Linguistic Breakdown of Prayer of Crowns In Memory of Dr Leon Wright. By Letters, Words, and Names. Prophets, Mounts, and Open Secrets/ initiation To Be Silent and Pearl Clutching. Good Deeds, Virtues don't sell. Lineage of Spirits(A rope from spirits and a rope from people) Enjoy your Practice. Wisdom, Torah, Tear, Tarot. Shem Angels, Guardian angels, and Natal spirits.

Restitutionism: Praying For and with the Spirits.

Love Elemental-astrological Talismans

Chaldean Oracle 147, Gate of Man and Immortals, Cancer/Capricorn and Daniel in the bible. Retrospective: Practice from a length and at a length.

Previously public services: ( I might make more in the future, stay tuned ) St Expedite Work Ganesha's Working ( Part 1 , Part 2 ) St Cyprian and Aratron

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

RotG and HiJack Recs

Alright, I'm building this list because some of these fics are just a tad dusty, and they could use more love. (A lot more love, I am literally dying from how much I adored these.) But note that a good few are incomplete.

Let's start with:

INCOMPLETE FICS

The Long Road:

Presently Gen, but Hiccup very much falls for Jack. He does however retain his feelings for Astrid, so bear that in mind. There's the classic Viking mindset when it comes to homosexual relationships that's pretty much giving Hiccup like a lot of anxiety.

But beyond that! I cannot shower this fic with enough praises! It gives me the same sort of excitement that the RotG movie does. Jack's characterization is Spot On. He's friendly and outgoing and also incredibly secretive and flighty. It balances out Jack's blunt mannerisms with a joyous charm and just that hint of vulnerability (which he keeps so well hidden lol).

The plots take place after HttyD, during the Riders of Berk TV series. Jack is folded into the Dragon Rider group who considers him some kind of Elf. Yes, this is Jack Frost in all his frosty glory. The way the story builds on a solid foundation of camaraderie and friendship, giving plenty of scenes to show how Hiccup and Jack became great friends, lends well to the Hiccup's realization of: "Oh I'm into him". Without giving too many spoilers, that "oh" moment is forever ingrained into my memory because of how PERFECTLY timed it is.

This blends Guardians of Childhood book verse with HttyD book verse, mostly via cameos over lore. Overall, a beautiful, fun, and simply enchanting read. I cannot recommend this enough.

A Story about Ice, Dragon Fire, and Belief:

Another gen fic. Mostly, it's about North looking at Jack and going, "he's my son now", and Jack having absolutely none of it. When placed together with Stoik and Hiccup's relationship, it becomes an almost interesting study of contrasts. North is the guy who's trying to prove something to a boy that he disappointed. Hiccup is the guy who's trying to prove something to a man that he disappointed. But ultimately, it ends up the same with a schism forming between the two pairs the harder one of them tries to breach it.

Also, it talks about how Jack is a force of fucking nature? And his blizzards can kill and have killed in the past? There's a little bit of trying to reconcile that with his new ID as a guardian. North is not doing a great job helping here.

But really the Crown Jewel of this fic is North and Berk's reactions to North (and by proxy his relationship to Jack). We go a little into the historical Viking side of things (like the pillaging et al), and apply that lens to this jolly old man. Let's just say some troubling (hilarious) assumptions are drawn. Also...

Everyone loves the sleigh.

I think this is one of the few RotG and HttyD crossovers that really do a good job of merging the two movies. Primarily because it's not just Jack in Berk. And this just made me hungry for more fics where more of the RotG cast arrive as Berk, and be just 100% fantastical and strange as the bedtime stories they are. Put some respect on the Guardians name, if you know what I'm saying.

In the Shadows of My Mind:

This one is an RotG only fic. No pairings except for whatever's going on between Pitch and Nightlight (and by proxy Jack). It's not a for real pairing. That said, it's such a complex and intricate relationship that doesn't resemble a romance but remains markedly intimate. Basically, this fic takes advantage of Pitch and Nightlight's ridiculously long history then throws Jack into the mix. Alive, human Jack in an early 18th century colonial town wherein he very recently did not drown (and boy, isn't that suspicious?)

My favorite thing about this fic is how spot on the dialogue feels? The lexicon, the syntax feels true to the time its set in. Although, I can't say that it is accurate as I'm not an expert of this time period in this region. Regardless, it certainly appears that a good stack of research went into this.

All that said, this fic has captured Bill Joyce's writing style the best, but with a deeper, more complex, more mature layer underpining that bedtime like vibe. There's a good host of OCs but genuinely, I didn't notice them as OCs. I could really believe they were characters of Joyce's books. Not to mention, they feel like fully fleshed out individuals even if they have like maybe two paragraphs of screentime.

The entire premise hinges on the idea of "what if Jack survived the skating accident" and everyone's reactions to that, as well as... the hidden secret thing that involves Nightlight. GoC spoilers are hinted so beware. But the little interplay between Nightlight and Jack is such a delicious little mystery, and also makes me so sad. These two boys deserved better.

Then we throw in Pitch for fun, because Pitch is always fun, and he just makes the whole thing even more complicated or as Jack calls it, "unnatural". But he's not even the main villain. It's Christianity. JK. That said, the fic does explore the idea of well, how would a fairly backwater colony be able to explain how Jack survived or... the powers that's slowly revealing itself from within him. There's a particularly nasty boy (around Jack's age), who is an OC and I believe an exceptionally well placed one. The OC understood his role to play and he plays it fantastically. Everytime he shows up, I too feel scared and indignant and excited all at once.

Speaking of great OCs, shoutout to Jack's Da. His appearances are brief but the impact is maximized with each appearance. He has that sense of realism and whimsy baked into him that I could gush endlessly about.

Overall, just a pure delight to read. Will re-read again and again.

Zastruga:

Total Gen fic. And a classic in my opinion.

I started reading this when I was in college - note the publish date. Nevermind the update date. Because even after all these years, this story? Still good. Still very very good.

This takes the original RotG plot and makes it more epic, and also more sad. RotG was very joyful at its core, which this fic somehow manages to retain. But it's just under a layer of sad. It's not overwhelming angst though, just enough to really pinch your heart.

Also whereas the movie has a few epic battles before things go really wrong, this fic stretches that out into a proper war against Pitch (and Jack). That's right. Jack is with Pitch ala Mother Gothel/Judge Frollo style. Jack isn't locked up entirely. He's given just enough rope to hang himself with. Mind the Jack whump is what I'm saying. But also do note that Jack's character remains as steadfast and loyal as he ever was in RotG, so the whump just hits nicer since this Jack isn't so irrevocably changed.

I have re-read this before. I will re-read this again. Nevermind the incomplete status. There's plenty of chapters that simply give me great joy.

COMPLETE FICS

It's the Great Spirit Sleigh, Hiccup Haddock:

Gen fic, in that there's no pairing actively getting together. But remains faithful to the original canon's hinted love interests. So Hiccup has a big crush on Astrid and Jack leans towards Tooth. That said, the relationship between Hiccup and Jack is just plain adorable and also heart-wrenching. They care about each other. So Much.

Now this is just a good holiday cheer. It literally has the Hallmark movie template, which is the point really. You know, the whole "oh no, a holiday is ruined" followed by "clever and charming ways to fix the holiday". With Hiccup and Jack taking the starring roles.

If you know your Hallmark movies, then you know that the leads get together in the end. And they don't in this fic. But the amount of "Gosh do I care about you" is so good. It's a lot of hurt and a lot of comfort. And I am here for it.

Also, this fic was completed way before the HttyD 3 movie so it doesn't have a canon compliant ending. That may be a bonus for some of you.

Scary Monsters and Super Creeps:

Pre JackRabbit (Bunny/Jack). But honestly the pairing isn't the main focus, mostly that Jack and Bunny admit to liking each other (but not to each other). So their dynamic remains in the best bros category. The pairing mostly shows through the plot machinations.

So long story short, Pitch opens the Guardian-Verse and recruits the other versions of the Guardians - the corrupt versions. And it's good, action/adventure fun. There's some gore, so mind that. Because the corrupt versions are nasty little things that fight dirty. Which makes the action feel like there's legit stakes. Also makes for a quick read because you must know what happens next? Did they get out of this sticky situation? Are they going to be okay? That sort of thing.