#and love them all dearly and will stick up to their right to exist

[menlove]

every time i am around older queer people the more i am convinced i was meant to be an older queer person. not bc i have this fantasy of living in decades past that were much worse but bc i get along with and agree w them so much better. so much of modern queer discourse is painfully white, binary, and completely regressive while painting itself as revolutionary and i just want to crack jokes w some cool older butch lesbians every time i encounter discourse that makes me want to bash my head into the wall

[fatuismooches]

(x) As the Second Harbinger, one would think Il Dottore would be wholly disinterested in something like White Day. And it was a perfectly reasonable guess, after all, have you seen the Doctor?! But no, they would be wrong, having not seen how Dottore and his segments carefully procured their own little thing for you as a reciprocal gift for your previous presents on Valentine's Day.

Was this odd behavior for the scholars? Most definitely. Even for you this was uncharted territory. What could have prompted Dottore, who largely ignored the existence of holidays, to take the initiative? You believed it to be him finally deciding to be a cutie again. (As the banker once said, if Dottore didn't put more effort in, he may just sweep you off your feet instead - and as joking as the Ninth may have been, it had served to push Dottore forward (as planned).

Prime Dottore does the best thing he can for you - spend quality time with you. Sure, as much as you like all the neat gadgets he makes you to pass the time, it gets to a point it can no longer replace his presence. And so you two have dinner - whether you prefer it to be fancy with a romantic atmosphere, or something more relaxed with you two munching in bed. The day ends with lots of talking and rambling from both of you, a much needed break and reminder of your love. And don't worry, he didn't try to cook this time.

Alpha gifts you a pack of the very best pens Teyvat has to offer. They write flawlessly and it's genuinely breathtaking. After all, he remembers very well those days you spent in the Akademiya, and how you grumbled about only having cheap pens, but had all these essays to write. And since Alpha knows how much you love being fancy - don't worry - he got them in different colors too. Just don't draw on his notes (please do). And don't bother sharing them with him. He will probably end up breaking them eventually and get grumpy at you, as if it's your fault ink splattered all over him.

Beta is very proud of his gift and was secretly itching the whole time to see the look on your face once he finally gave it to you. Of course, it's machine related. As you've probably guessed, the gift in question is a Ruin Guard... customized to resemble... you? See, he had his agents give it a new coat of paint that is similar to you, and he's added a few small articles of your clothing that could go on it! It's majestic! Yeah... it may be a bit impractical, seeing as how huge it is, and you have to walk all the way to Beta's lab to play with it, but do you see his big, sharp grin right now? It's the culmination of his work for his dearly beloved, his two favorite things combined!

Delta isn't really a stellar gift giver, being as serious and unemotional as he is. But he still does believe in returning effort, especially when it came to you. However, that doesn't really change the fact he's unsure of what to give you, so he just sticks to the way he best communicates with you - actions - seeing as when he talks he isn't the most fun to listen to. Just expect to see a lot of your favorite things popping up throughout a very stress-free day.

Zeta presents you with a collection of books he's been storing that he'd think you'd like. Although this segment never seems to be around, and seems to talk even less, it doesn't mean he doesn't know what's going on in your life. Zeta listens to everything with interest and almost an uncanny precise memory, noting everything down. And of course, when he happens to hear agents speak about things you're also interested in, that is also noted. Sure, these things may not always be his sort of thing, but if you want the extraordinary rare first edition of "Shogun Almighty: Reborn as Raiden With Unlimited Power" or "Pretty Please, Kitsune Guuji?", he'll get his hands on it... even if it raises some eyebrows.

Though still a child, Zandy would never dare to miss out on gifting you something! He shares with you one of his plushies - a simple blue teddy bear. It's honestly quite out of place considering his other toys and his most treasured Ruin Guard plushies, but it reminds you of the boy - cute, tiny, huggable, and blue. If you wear earrings, he'll also somehow get his hands on a matching pair, so you're always carrying a piece of him! After all, as much as you'd like to be cool and wear Dottore's blue vial on your ear too, it's not as comfortable as he makes it looks...

Sigma's gift is as sweet as he is, combining two of his interests - plants and sweets - and what does that get you? Chocolate roses of course! The segment gifts you the bouquet all romantically, before one rose is suddenly plucked and promptly devoured, of course while he watches you laugh and munch one right after. It becomes a tradition of sorts afterward, and you learned to make them yourself to surprise him too! It's such a shame he can't grow chocolate flowers in his greenhouse...

Phi leaves you with a nice perfume/cologne, nothing too overpowering, with a lovely designed bottle with the patterns of her clothes. Somehow it never runs out (she refills it when you're not around). The trick is that the smell is quite similar to hers, so whenever you wear it, the other segments get slightly annoyed as they're practically smelling her on you - completely unfair of course. Before they can try to cover you with theirs instead, Phi always whisks you away.

Omega, for once, has a bit of trouble deciding what your gift is, surprisingly. He's pondered over it for a while, catching himself idly thinking about it. He believes it must be the perfect gift, the best gift - the gift you like the best. Being the observant person you are, you notice his thinking and inquire, and so he just bluntly asks you what you would like the best. You can't help but let out a laugh, claiming that although you think his thoughtfulness is cute, there was really no need to think that hard into it - you'd appreciate and love anything because he was the best lover you could ask for! And then it hits Omega - that's right, he is the best - already superior to his other selves. And so, that night, you had your gift all to yourself, every inch of him.

[lunasanguismusic]

Seeing a lot of LGBTQIA+, especially trans and nb youth, getting suicidal today and just wanted to make a post to reach out to anyone who needs it. First and foremost you are not alone.

I came out as trans/nb right around the start of the first Trump term (in a rural red community too). It was scary af then too honestly. My neighbor just recently came out to me last month too. I understand your fears and they are completely justified with all we've heard/seen over the last few years. That said, please do not harm yourself over these fascist fucks. Do not stop being yourself over the fear they are trying to spread. Most of this country is not them.

You still have a massive community that loves you dearly and the vast majority of us will be there for you in need. We will always exist. We will make it though this dumb shit one way or another. Resilience is hardcoded into our roots. Do not give up hope just yet. The world needs you, especially now. Death is definitely not the answer. Living happy, out (when/where safe) and proudly is. Our futures are still there and quite bright as long as we stick together.

Build a community and keep each other safe. Much love to all my LGBTQIA+ family. Sorry we ended up in the stupid timeline though.

[cherrybomb107]

Okay, so, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now and I think I’m finally able to articulate my feelings about Vi becoming an Enforcer. Stick with me, cause this’ll be a rant, but I promise it’ll all make sense (I hope).

As I’ve said before on here, I feel like the Arcane fandom across different platforms is COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. Here, vs the subreddit is a whole world of a difference. That difference being so large is part of the reason why I feel how I feel about Vi becoming an Enforcer. It’s not so much that I don’t like it(cause it’s not that I don’t like it; I hate it actually. REAL BAD). But, if I tried to talk about WHY it bothers me so much, some dude bro with a superiority complex and 0 class consciousness is gonna be like “Um ackshully, Vi is trying to protect her community. Why are you mad about that but not mad about Jinx being a TERRORIST?! Huh? Huh?” Then I’ll be accused of being a moron who didn’t watch the show . And then if I tried to defend myself I’d get dog piled and downvoted to oblivion.

So, first of all, irdgaf about Jinx being a terrorist. So what? What goes around comes around. When she burns Piltover tf DOWN, Imma sip on an ice cold beverage and watch, cause fuck em. Secondly, I understand WHY Vi is joining the Enforcers. Just like I understand why women can be raging misogynists. And why immigrants become Trump supporters. And why poor people join the military. And why Black people perpetuate respectability politics. I understand why members of marginalized communities join the opposition responsible for their marginalization. I understand that at its core, these people understand, at least on some level, that the powers that be are punishing them for existing as themselves. So, in an effort to take some of the heat off, they’ll internalize the messages they’ve been force fed since forever. They’ll try to change. Try to be “better”.

But see the problem with that is, trying to become “one of the good ones” and “rise above it all” doesn’t work. For the simple fact of no matter how hard you try to assimilate, you’ll never be one of “them”. You can parrot all the talking points, you can change your hair, the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you dress etc. But no matter what, you’ll never be accepted wholly. You’ll always be on the outside looking in.

I say that to say, the thing I hate most about Vi becoming an Enforcer is that I’ll have to see a character that I love dearly fall victim to this mindset. In a show full of tragedies, is this not yet another one to add to the list? Piltover took Vi, a scrappy kid from the Lanes, slaughtered her family in front of her, locked her up and threw away the key, and convinced her that the only way to save her sister was to put on a uniform, and enforce the will of the crooked politicians who don’t care about her or her people.

That’s what’s got me somewhat scared for season two. I really hope they frame Vi’s reluctant decision to join the Enforcers as another tragedy in and of itself, instead of just “a necessary evil” or worse “the right thing to do”. Cause it wasn’t the right thing to do. It was just the only thing Vi felt she could’ve done.

[rottenpumpkin13]

To AGSZC

What was the scariest prank that any of you guys have ever pulled on each other?

Once again, from your admirer Lambdadelta 💕🎃🍬

The Scary Clown Prank On Angeal

• Angeal doesn't think clowns are scary, a sentiment which pisses Zack off, as he believes there is nothing scarier than clowns. Angeal enjoys poking fun at Zack for it, so to teach him a lesson, Zack hires a clown to follow Angeal around all day and stare at him menacingly from a distance. Zack then instructs everyone to gaslight Angeal into thinking he's the only one who can see the clown.

*Angeal corners Sephiroth in the hallway (the clown is right behind him)*

Angeal: You see creepy clown too, right?

Sephiroth: I have no idea what you're talking about.

*The clown takes a swing at Angeal with a wooden mallet*

Angeal: THIS CLOWN.

Sephiroth: We are too old to play pretend, Angeal.

*The clown is actively attempting to murder Angeal*

Angeal: HELP

Sephiroth: You're seeing things.

The Broken Tastsebuds Prank On Sephiroth

• Angeal directs his rage over the clown prank towards Sephiroth by making a lasagna that tastes absolutely disgusting. He instructs everyone else to pretend it tastes amazing so Sephiroth thinks there's something wrong with his taste buds.

Sephiroth, having an existential crisis: The taste has changed for me. I can no longer enjoy the lasagna and feel that instant rush of dopamine that numbs the pervasive drudge of existence clinging to my mind. The one good thing I had on this earth is gone.

Genesis: What about our friendship?

Sephiroth: I would sell you for a single stick of uncooked spaghetti.

Genesis:

The Hot Sauce Prank On Genesis

• Genesis loves to claim he's unaffected by a particular hot sauce that's always available in the cafeteria. Sephiroth is still enraged over the taste bud prank, and decides to prank him by switching that hot sauce with one that's 10,000x hotter and watching him squirm.

Genesis, pouring hot sauce on his food: I'm constantly amazed at my endurance. While others whine and complain, I can eat this hot sauce with no problem. I should win an award.

*Genesis eats his food, immediately he starts sweating, his face turns red and the "oh shit" expression becomes etched on his face*

Zack: What's wrong?

Genesis, dying: ......

Zack: Shall I go get your award?

Genesis, literally dying: ......

Zack: What's should it say? #1 Lying rat?

The Death Prank On Zack

• Zack laughed the hardest at the hot sauce prank, and for that he must pay dearly. Genesis has everyone act as if Zack has died.

*Everyone is dressed in black and sobbing as Zack walks up to them*

Zack: Hey guys! What's going on?

Angeal, wiping away his tears: He was so young! He never even made First before he died.

Zack: Woah! Who died!?

Sephiroth, shedding a polite tear: Zack will be dearly missed.

Zack: I DIED? WHEN?

Genesis: If only he would've heeded our warning. The poor boy died after completing five thousand consecutive squats.

Zack:

Zack: Nice.

[areallivegirl7]

a mission of liberation. 1995. part one

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Red Guardian

Warnings: none, so far.

Summary: Four years after meeting the Winter Soldier, Alexi Shostakov finds himself face to face with the man he once knew. SHIELD assigns him the mission to find and liberate him.

Word Count: 1k

notes: I don’t know where exactly this is going, I usually don’t do this, but I’m so excited about this ship I had to do something. I'm shrugging right now but in a way that i definitely know instead of what the shrug implies. tee hee. because it's so clear they should fuck so it will happen, trust. also this is unedited. i don't have time for that.

edit: why didn’t any of you tell me I was spelling Alexei wrong? I am betrayed and hurt. next chapter postponed.

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Alexi had a good life, doing what he loved. A nice house, a dog, a job that he loved more than anything in the world, students that maybe hated him, even a potential girlfriend. Everyone knew him to be a kind spirit, maybe annoying at times with his loud personality, but after he walks through the doors of his beautiful house, feeds his dog, eats his homemade all american meal, and lays down to sleep in his goose feather bed, he thinks of someone he misses so dearly. 

Someone he knew as his best friend. 

And it didn’t feel good to think about him , like Alexi would die for it to be. His chest eroded anytime his existence was uttered by his subconscious while his mind was at rest. His “good life” kept the thoughts of him at bay, but every night, the guilt only made it worse. 

A smile shouldn’t haunt a man. Often, when the Red Guardian thought of the brutal brainwashing his lost friend had been subjected to, he couldn't help but think of his smile when he resisted it. 

The worst part, somehow, was that he didn’t even know his name. Neither of them did- but at least “The Coney Island Hero” wasn’t subjected to remembering that someone had given him that nickname. Alexi was left to suffer that. 

But there are many distractions from this- one being that he now leads a double life, working for SHIELD, doing hero-work, an umbrella term to describe anything from shutting down Nuclear Cold-War weapons and saving people from burning buildings- sometimes even cats. The bastardly things. 

Until one day, on a mission, he saw someone he’d been dreaming about. 

Alexi never went a day without seeing the shadow of The Coney Island Hero, which is why he almost brushed it aside, but then, he slapped him right in the face- which proved nothing. He was seeing The Winter Soldier now. The Shadow of The Coney Island Hero laid in him, even if he might not remember it. 

There’s one who does though, and Alexi knew that this time, he wasn’t going to lose him. He was going to liberate him, in a true American fashion.

 Brainwashing goes both ways. Alexi was going to brainwash the winter soldier back to the man he knew. The man that deserved to live a life free. 

And for reasons unknown to him, there was something deeper stirring under the surface of this fundamental belief. Something… personal. 

MISSION REPORT. 1995. 

“Get that crying baby out of here, I’m trying to talk to the woman,” Alexi ordered, slamming a fist on Peggy’s  desk with a scowl. “This is important, little girl!”

The baby mirrored his scowl. “I’m thwee,” she said, sticking out her tongue and holding her Dad’s hand a little tighter.

“You are a  very cute baby, I cannot stay angry for long,” Alexi gave in, waving as she walked out, grinning ear to ear at the sight. “Goodbye baby.”

Silence wavered between them as Alexi smiled silently, staking in the sights of the stuffy brown office that overlooked the streets of New York City, various noises fading into white noise as he let himself drift away to another place. It was subconscious at this point. 

Coney Island. He’d been there several times hoping to run into its hero. 

He stayed there until a British accent woke him back up. “Alexi, you came here very passionate about something, would you like to… elaborate further on what you saw?” 

“Uh, what?” Alexi stuttered, “oh, yes. The Winter Soldier. I saw him there, Agent Carter. I knew him, yes I knew him well. He liberated me.” 

“The Winter Soldier? He’s a myth.. An urban legend. What makes you think you know him?” Peggy inquirered, grabbing her reading glasses from the desk in front of her, holding her files out far enough to see. 

Alexi laughed. “You cannot fool me, Agent Carter. I know you know what you say isn’t true. You may be the supreme leader of SHIELD, but I was a supreme leader of the Red Room. I knew of the Winter Soldier. But then, I knew him. He didn’t know himself though.”

She looked at him through her glasses. “Alright, fine. He does exist. But you aren’t supposed to know that. It’s what we’d all like to keep a secret.” Peggy became somber, setting down her files. “What do you mean he didn’t know himself?” 

“I mean,” Alexi began. “We bonded. He got us French fries, we had jokes, and I tried to help him remember what his name was. The best he could do was Coney Island. That means he was the hero, no?” 

“The hero? I doubt he was ever a hero. I don’t know who-“

“But he doesn’t remember. He used to be someone! Someone who is no one wouldn’t remember Coney Island,” Alexi said in confidence, his eyes traveling to outside the window once more. “Even if he wasn’t, he deserves to live free.”

“You’re saying that the Winter Soldier was brainwashed?” Peggy asked, practically in disbelief as her soldiers squared, only slightly looking down at her feet when Alexi earnestly nodded his head. 

She got up and walked around the room, seemingly deep in thought about something, in such a manor that made him twist his fingers anxiously in wait for whatever she was going to say next. Perhaps “you’re crazy, we’re taking your job and your money.”  or worse, “there’s nothing we can do.”.

 Finally, she said, “Alexi, I’m giving  you a mission.”

Alexi shot up like lighting to his feet, turning around the face Peggy, who had her hands neatly clasped behind her back, a serious look of final determination on her aged face. 

“Yes ma’am?” Alexi asked, his heart practically breaking through his ribs. 

“Find and free The Winter Soldier.” 

<> part 2 out now

[lullabibi]

HIIIII i (raven) drew some of our sparkle on raven ocs!!!!!!

these are gene (she/it, left) and lucky hapigo (he/him, right)!!!! theyre our special little mipys and i love them dearly <33333333 we have an art acc but im posting this to our main idgaf LOL ill just rb it there

anyway info on them in the read more!!!!!

---

about gene!!!

we made her for the purpose of an unfinished fic. shes supposed to be the "maidler" (maid+butler) of ai seeyu, who we hc is fiiiilthy rich. she and ai are best friends, and they have this sort of symbiotic relationship?

ai does all the talking when guests are over, and generally does anything that needs any sort of Smarts, because gene doesnt like to speak much and isnt very book smart. on the other side though, gene loves to do house chores and take care of ai, and do basically anything that needs heavy lifting, which we hc ai cant do due to disability.

theyre around the same age id say? im not really sure. gene doesnt attend the school as of the fic, but i like to think it starts attending after the events of said fic!!!!! she hangs out with the one star students pretty much exclusively. shes really shy.

also yes her design and name are a vague nod to the jackbox character gene! we conceptualized her first with the idea of a maid/butler character that we could make a fesh pince joke out of, so we started with the nickname "g" and bibi just went uhhh GENE for its actual name LOL

---

about lucky!!!

lucky we first thought of with the concept of "sor oc with a voiceclaim of skullvolver" that i THINK came right after the godgame stream with the iconic payphone bit?? cause we were like oh skull is the only one on this stream not in sor. thatd be funny to make as a joke. ...it was quickly no longer a joke. the voiceclaim part isnt super serious though LOL he sounds like that annoying ppl as spiderman bit

we came up with the name lucky hapigo because name puns are very fitting with sor, and it kinda fit well with the personality we wanted to give him!!!! lucky is basically as his name says!!! happy go lucky!!!! hes in the hero club, a very small club of two tokusatsu type heroes who get no work because raven is saving the day all the time before they get a chance. hes pissed at her for it.

initially i was gonna make raven and lucky cousins? im still on the fence about it. currently not canon to his lore but idk it still could be LOL

ALSO I OC X CANON SHIP HIM WITH ZERO. YKNOW THE GOKU KNOCKOFF ONE STAR STUDENT. THAT GUY. i thought itd be funny and cute LOL. theyre really cute together in my heart. two very nice boys who are kind of dumb and need to spar with everything that moves.

also lucky LOOOOVES idols. hes strawberrys biggest fan and clams up when hes near her LOL hes always cheering for her!!!!!!

his toku fit currently doesnt exist i havent designed it LOL. i dont think he has a Full helmet, just a half one with a visor and lets his ponytail stick out the back. its probably very magical "girl"/idol adjacent though. idk!!!!

can you tell im attatched to him

[cafesweetvn]

HAPPY POCKY DAY 11/11

Artemis: When you first brought the idea up to Artemis, he frankly thought it was stupid. He didn't see the point of playing the game and was confused about how a game like this even came into existence. But...Artemis loves you dearly, and so he indulges you(after you ask like 5 times LOL) He takes the plain side and holds it in his mouth, its only then when he realizes how close you two will be and he quickly backs up before you can get closer. He needs a moment to prepare. Eventually he closes his eyes and allows you to move closer, after all, he can't see you, even though he can feel how close your presence is. He takes small bites and inches closer to you until your lips finally meet. The only reason he'd win is cause he freezes as soon as you two kiss LOL

Sanka: Sanka tilts their head, "Pocky game? I've...never heard of that!" But they perk up soon enough. "It's a game though, so it's gotta be fun! Besides, it'll be with you! My favorite person in the entire world! No, wait...UNIVERSE!! Anyways, I wanna do it!" He rambles before staring at you waiting for you to explain the game. Honestly, she's just really looking forward to kissing you when you explain the rules. She plays your game, putting the pocky stick in her mouth and taking bites. His heart races and he can't help but giggle just a little bit at the fluttering feeling in his stomach. They practically melt when your lips touch. They pull away first, but not for long as they smile and pepper your face with kisses!

Hyun-ae: Oh...Hyun-ae's never done this before. She's been in plenty relationships, but none of them had known about the pocky game and most refused to indulge, causing her to eventually give up asking. She's frankly ecstatic when you ask, cause she had been wanting to do this for so long. "Yeah, I'm down." She answers cooly, yet she can't hide the growing smile on her face, giving away her excitement. She offers you the chocolate, not being the biggest fan of sweets herself(which just goes to show how badly she's wanted to do this) Hyun-ae actually takes the SMALLEST bites to avoid eating too much of the sweet chocolate, plus she thinks it's really cute if you come to her(She'll never pass up an opportunity to tease you <3). She'll let you kiss her and you can FEEL her smirk. She grabs the back of your head and kisses you passionately, she'll make sure she wins!

Davi: Sputters as it's wide eyes look up at you in utter shock cause like...what do you mean...YOU want to kiss HIM??!?!?! Literally Davi feels like it's in a dream right now. Are you an angel? You've been SO nice to him and you just keep WANTING to give him more?!?! He nods along with it, wanting to kiss you. He lets you take whatever end you want and shakily places the other end into his mouth. He slowly takes small bites(bigger then Hyun-ae's, but still small) his heart is pounding rapidly and he can feel your presence getting closer, your scent invading his nostrils, your breath fanning his face, and your warmth radiating off of you. It's so hyper aware that before it even knows it, it's pulled away and covered it's red, overheating face. He stands quickly, realizing he pulled away as he sees your confused face, pocky stick still in your mouth. "S-sorry! It's...it's not that I don't want to kiss you, I...I do...but I can't! I'm gonna ex-explode!"

Valeria: She's surprisingly shy when you ask her, you can see her hands shaking with excitement! She squeals as she hurriedly takes a pocky stick and goes to put it in her mouth. "You are SO cute, y'know that?! I could just eat you up! But really, I'm so happy you wanted to do this with me, because I have BEEN wanting to do this with you for SO long! blah blah blah blah....etc etc" She just starts rambling on for hours about how much she loves you and has loved you, how happy she in you chose her! The pocky eventually gets forgotten cause she just HAS to show you how much she loves you, date, NOW!! She'll remember right before she's about to fall asleep and she'll bolt up and go to your room with the pocky, apologizing and suggesting you two do it now(she's an early sleeper so pocky day isn't over at this point)

Imani: "Like that thing our friends would do in middle school?" Imani asks, looking up from her book. "I never was able to get more then halfway...although...I might be able to do it, if it's with you." She looks up in thought for a few moments before looking back at you full of determination. "Y-yeah! I wanna do it with you!" You two have a little banter, trying to give each other the chocolate end, but in the end you win, letting Imani have the chocolate end. She does a cute, playful little cheer as she sticks the chocolate end into her mouth, getting embarrassed at the close proximity as you take the other end into your mouth. Realizing how overstimulated she is already, she takes a big bite, kind of hoping to get it over with already cause of how suffocating it feels. Tenses when your lips finally touch, she's so frozen she doesn't even pull away. Actually....is she even breathing? Imani? IMANI!?!?

Fritz: Oh...Fritz's brain short circuits for a minute. Fritz has had feelings for you for so long that he's been WANTING to do this since he first found the game. That said, of course he agrees, not even bothering to hide his eagerness, which embarrasses you a little. He lets you choose what side you want and put's it in your mouth for you. He gently holds your chin with one hand and his other hand supports the cracker as he puts it in his mouth. He smiles at you and takes a bite, his smile can't stop growing with each bite you take closer to him. Fritz takes big bites, that way they can kiss you sooner. And in no time, their lips are on yours, their hand sneaked around to the back of your head to hold you in place against their lips as they kiss you passionately. You two pull away, out of breath. "Again?" They look up at you, a teasing smile on their face. You nod and and place another stick of pocky between your lips, only to feel it taken out and replaced by Fritz's lips again before they pull away. "Not the game, silly. The kiss...I want more...and I'm too impatient to wait for your tiny bites."

Archie: "How cute... unfortunately, you didn't come to me covered in blood so I'm not attracted to you in any way. Seriously, learn my tastes already if you're going to be asking me to play stupid games with you." Despite Archie's cruel words, he has a smile of his face, which you know, by now, to be a part of his facade.

BONUS(Killer): You hold the stick of pocky to the killer in fear, horrified that you'd be the next victim. The killer takes the piece of pocky and presses it against their mask, forgetting that their mouth is covered by the mask. They shrug and pull you closer, holding you gently, but firmly, placing the chocolate covered stick in your mouth and they place their forehead against yours. They pull away and ruffle your hair before leaving.

HERE ARE THE REALLY OLD DOODLES!! Minus the killer cause they didn't exist yet LOL(they did, but not their concept or design, they were just kind of the killer and you'd know who it was when you saw em)

also the character at the top was going to be place holder mc, I was going to have a fem, androgenous, and masc MC for the player to choose from, but they're just a blank slate now!!

[avocado-writing]

notes: this turned into a much longer, story-based fic lol. cw for depression. not mentioned: you & aziraphale building a little sandcastle while crowley drinks a margarita. also crowley switches to fem presenting in this fic

pairing: crowley x gn!reader x aziraphale

words: 2.1k

rating: E (smut at the end, minors dni)

Crowley, there’s a problem. Come over as soon as you can. - Aziraphale

Angel, you don’t need to sign your texts off. I know it’s you. 

Usually when he gets these messages it’s because Aziraphale has run out of milk, or there’s a spider in the bookshop. So Crowley doesn’t worry. That’s until he actually turns up and finds Aziraphale staring at the CD rack you put up in the back room, arms crossed and brow furrowed. 

“The Tracy Chapman album is gone,” Aziraphale sighs. Crowley glances over to the calendar hung up on the wall. It’s got pictures of kittens on it. But that’s not what makes him groan, no; it’s when he realises the date. 

“Ah.”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t realise that had sneaked up on us.”

It happens once a year, inevitably. Even when you try to forget it the bloody thing is seared in your mind. It’s almost the anniversary of the day you didn’t die. 

You insist you aren’t sad about it. You insist. But, once when you were very drunk, they got it out of you that for a little while you always feel like you’re mourning. You’re happy with your life how it is now, overjoyed even; and you wouldn’t trade your marriage for anything… but you’re still reminded of the human you couldn’t be. The natural life you never got to live. The children you never had. The family you had to abandon when your death didn’t take. 

Because when it boils down to it you’re not quite human. You’re different. And though Crowley and Aziraphale may not be aligned with their sides any more there are other angels and demons. But there is only one of you. 

And it can get very lonely to think that way. 

So every year you sequester yourself off in your bedroom at your house — since 1988 it’s been with that bloody Chapman CD — and the person they love disappears into a little mist of sadness until you’re ready to be with the world again. 

Crowley slams his hand onto the table, making his husband jump. No. Not this time. They won’t stand to see you like this for another year. 

“I have an idea,” he says, and Aziraphale raises his eyebrows. 

Your house is in quite a nice area of London, plenty of room for three people, but right now you’re sitting in the bedroom all alone. (Of course you have a house. You love your other halves dearly but personal space is a requirement, not a request. Besides you’ve picked up a load of tat over the years you’ve been alive and it’s not fair to make one of them keep it for you). You’ve not seen them for a few days, and that’s fine. You like to marinate in your own misery. Crowley once said people must enjoy feeling sad or bands like the Smiths wouldn’t exist. You couldn’t fault him. 

There’s a knock at your door. Figuring it’s the postie, you drag yourself from your spot in the middle of the bed and wipe the tears from your eyes with your sleeve. You’re a little surprised to find Crowley and Aziraphale standing there, but open the door for them anyway. 

“I’ll stick the kettle on,” you mutter as a greeting. They exchange a look as you shuffle into the kitchen. Before you can even begin to get the mugs out, you’re manoeuvred into a chair and your husbands plonk down in front of you. 

“What—”

“Nightingale, we know you’ve been struggling.”

You deflate under their dual looks of concern, and bury your face in your hands. 

“Sorry.”

You suddenly feel very, very small; but you realise they’re taking your arms and pulling your hands away. 

“There’s nothing to apologise for, my dear. We understand. It’s just that we were thinking, we should all go on a little holiday.”

Cautiously you look up. 

“A little holiday?”

Aziraphale doesn’t do ‘little’. That word simply disguises self-indulgence. “Do you fancy a little treat?” (I saw a whole wedding cake in a bakery shop window and immediately bought it, fancy going halves with me?) or “I’m going to take a little nap…” (time to curl up on the sofa in front of Bake-Off reruns and fall asleep for four days straight) are the examples that spring to mind. 

So a ‘little’ holiday might not be so little at all. 

“Look, we wrote down all of your favourite places and put them into a hat. You just reach in, pick one, and we’ll go.”

They’d spent a solid two hours deciding what made the cut. Edinburgh, obviously. Stockholm. Verona. (You might have had a problem with the Roman Empire, but you can appreciate that nowadays Italy has some of the best food in the world). 

Aziraphale holds out a reporter’s trilby full of tiny white strips of paper, shaking it enthusiastically. Their eyes are wide and full of love. Gingerly you reach out, rustle around in the hat, and pull a single slip. They watch you intently as you unfold it, read it, and widen your eyes. 

You hold it up, and excitement crosses your face for the first time that day. 

“Isle of Wight.”

“Isle of Wight?” Crowley repeats. He doesn’t remember putting that one in there and, from the look on his face, neither does Aziraphale. But no, of course - you love that place. The three of you had spent a summer there back in the nineteen-twenties, when you had gone through your fossil phase. You’d spent hours on the beach searching through rocks for ammonites and genuinely enjoying every moment. 

Plus, with that look on your face, they can hardly say no.

“Isle of Wight then,” Aziraphale says, smiling. 

They help you pack and book the ferry that evening, Crowley making short work of the drive down to the docks. On the journey you’re still a little bit quiet, but when you ask, “can I put on Tracy Ch—” Crowley shouts “No!”, reaches into the glove box to pull out the CD the Bentley manifested to try and please you, and flings it out of the window on the motorway. 

It’s so ridiculous you can’t help but laugh. As a compromise Crowley stuffs Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours into the system so roughly he threatens to break it in half. 

Apart from that the drive is filled with happy chatter. And so is the whole holiday, really. They’ve booked a little seaside cottage to stay in, very sheltered and alone so there are no prying eyes on the three of you. That first night you’re too knackered to do much but curl up and fall asleep, but the next day you go into full tourist mode. Shorts, shirt, big hat and glasses. Aziraphale rubs sunblock on your back in the areas you can’t reach — as luckily the three of you have planned your excursion for the four and a half days that constitute British summertime — and you set out. 

And, really, it’s lovely. You go to the little attractions, play mini golf, pretend not to be annoyed when they miracle their shots to hit better (though you still win, their divine magic isn’t a patch on talent). You get a huge ice cream which drips down your hand in the heat. You watch Crowley spend twenty-seven pounds on a claw machine trying to win you and Aziraphale a teddy each “the old fashioned way”, but finally get irritated enough to click his fingers to make it malfunction. Soft toys are spat out of it like bullets to the glee of the gathered children.  

When you arrive back at the cottage they insist they cook, and even though you offer to help you’re told to go and spend the time looking for fossils. It’s quite miraculous that the beach laid out before your front door is suddenly full of them. It’s equal parts sandy and stony and you busy yourself for the next hour, every now and then a cry of “look what I’ve found!” being shouted over the sound of the waves. 

Aziraphale and Crowley exchange a look and silently agree what they’ve never worded: they’ve married a history nerd. 

It’s still hot as the sun sets and they lay out a little picnic on the soft part of the beach. You’ve changed into swimwear and so have they, and it’s one of those moments when you realise just how different your spouses are. Crowley has her long and hair down, slim body feminine so she can wear a tiny black bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. Aziraphale is wearing a full striped bathing suit that you last saw popularised when Queen Victoria was still on the throne. 

You love them both so much. 

Crowley pours the wine and you spend the evening getting a rosy sort of tipsy. You eat the little smorgasbord they’ve laid out in front of you, and as midnight turns to one in the morning, you totally forget the fact that it’s your would-be-death day at all. 

You stand up on unsteady legs and look at the ocean. It’s still unbearably warm. 

“Nightingale?” Crowley asks. You turn to your spouses and make a show of stripping off, leaving your swimsuit on the sand. 

“I’m going for a swim. Are you coming?”

Crowley needs no convincing, her tiny bikini quickly joining the pile of clothes. You take her hand and rush into the waves, laughing wildly as the water sprays your skin. 

“Angel!” Crowley shouts over her shoulder. Aziraphale hesitates for the tiniest moment. 

“Come on angel, nobody can see us.”

Aziraphale loses a battle against himself, finishes his slice of cake and starts to undress too. Soon he’s joined you and your wife in the water. The two of you pull him close. 

“See? Isn’t it nice?” you hum into his ear. His hand skips your bare waist, his breath hitches. You giggle and float backwards on the water, skyclad to the stars above. Crowley keeps a hold of your hand to make sure you don’t drift away, and you listen to the sound of the ocean in your ears while your spouses kiss behind you. You link your fingers through theirs and close your eyes, warm from the wine, and happy. 

Then you splash them childishly. The noise of surprise they make is fantastic. You cackle like mad and begin to run through the water - albeit very slowly - poking your tongue out. 

“Can’t catch me!” you giggle, which is a silly taunt really because Crowley is able to do so immediately with her long legs, and then she sweeps you up in a kiss. 

The three of you find yourselves laying on the beach, Crowley kissing your chest and neck, Aziraphale the soft area of your upper thighs. You melt against their mouths and drag them each to your lips to kiss them properly in turn. 

“Please fuck me,” you whisper, voice strung out on happiness and a little desperate. They don’t need telling twice. Crowley puts one of her beautiful legs either side of your face and you reach to taste her cunt, a heady mix of salt from the water and her own slick. She throws her head back and lets her flaming hair cascade down her back, moaning in pleasure. 

“Fuck, nightingale, your mouth…”

As your tongue presses firmly against her clit you feel Aziraphale manoeuvre you into his lap, spreading your legs to find your entrance. His hands press against you as his fingers slide inside, getting you ready for his impressive girth. You moan against Crowley’s pussy as he sheathes himself slowly inside you and then giggle as the waves lap up against your body. 

“Ahh,” Aziraphale breathes in pleasure, gripping your hips tightly as he begins to move. With every thrust he gives you mimic the motion onto your wife. 

You know their bodies intimately. You have done for centuries. But each time you make love it still feels like your senses are being lit on fire, the best kind of fire, passion burning hot. 

You love them. You love them so much it hurts, and you let this tumble from your lips as you feel them come, and topple over the edge with them. 

That night they hold you close, sandwiched, one of your favourite ways to sleep. Aziraphale tucks his face into your shoulder and Crowley buries his mouth into your hair, giving you a permanent kiss while you drift off. 

You’ve not felt so light in ages. 

When you get home, you decide, you’re smashing that CD with a hammer. You’ve got everything you need to feel better right here in your arms. 

-

Taglist: @angiestopit @dazed-soul  @foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie

[thedarkjerg]

Durgetash and shadowweave offsprings:

I had a dream that durge and gortash had a son. Shadowheart and gale had a daughter. Both children around the same age.

You'd think a tyrant and an assassins offspring would be a total menace right?. Nope he's an absolute saint. Gortash often calls him his 'pride and joy'. Just like his mother, he's gifted with innate magic. Elminster is guiding him.

Shadowheart and gales daughter aspires to be a ranger. Though gale thinks she'd be a great wizard. Shadowheart doesn't mind what she wants to be, just as long as she is happy. Gale is a professor, so most of his time is consumed educating young aspiring wizards and sorcerers which means he hardly has time at home. Their daughter often feels neglected by her father. Gale obviously adores his daughter and would love to spend time with her. He just needs to figure out how to balance his professional and personal life. Side note: their daughter might inherit the werewolf gene.

Just as always, the setting is at the wilderness campsite (epilogue).

And withers having yet another gathering. (This guys loves gatherings)

All companions are there.

Including gortash and the children.

Jaheira adores the children, though she sees shadowweaves daughter less often because they live in waterdeep, But nevertheless she love them equally.

Everything is going great. Halsin crafts durgetash son a wooden duck. Durgetash son loves it dearly. Shadowweave daughter hates it. She then snatched the wooden duck, threw it far outside the camp. This angered durgetash son. Next thing you now everything is shaking. The ground, the furniture etc. And withers comes in like 'breathe child'. And gortash comes running with his walking stick like:

Gortash: gods, gale control your child please. She snatched my sons wooden duck, you ought to teach her some restraint.

Gale: apologies for that, but my daughter does not need restraining. She's just a child, she's allowed to have her tantrums, I did when I was her age.

Gortash: well then, might I suggest she keep her tantrums to herself. Not everyone is okay with it.

Gale: you make a sound like she's a threat. I assure she's fine, she's just being a child. There's no harm in what she did.

Gortash: no harm?, she flung my sons toy like an old shoe, as if it were hers to throw. She upset my son.

Gale: and I already apologised for that. What else do you want?, aside from me restraining my daughter because I'm not going to do that.

Gortash: teach your child that it is not okay to take others people's belongings like its her right.

Gale: oh! so kind of like what you did, you know, when you tried to become the archduke of baldur's gate, even though duke ravenguuard held the position, you went ahead and tadpoled him, declaring yourself the non existent title.

Gortash: why are you digging up ancient history?

Gale: I'm not, I'm just pointing out hypocrisy.

Gortash: hypocrisy huh?, Mr. 'The gods are useless, now I want be a god'.

Gale: so who's digging up history now?

Gortash: the both us obviously, are you dense?, do you not remember the conversation we just had?

Gale: my question was rhetorical. But thank you for the clarification. Not sure how this conversation led here, but perhaps we should stop.

Gortash: of course, right after your daughter apologises to my son.

Gale: I've already apologised on her behalf.

Gortash: that you did, but you weren't the one who threw the wooden duck.

Gale: that's a little childish, don't you think?

Gortash: I'm still waiting for that apology.

Gale: pity your son is not getting one then.

Gortash: pity that you fail to control your child.

Gale: my child is not a displacer beast, that I should tame. Besides I could say the same for your son. He's a bhaalspawn after all.

Gortash: how dare you!, you common conjurer!. My son is an angel.

Gale: although he holds very powerful magic, your son almost caused an earthquake over a wooden duck.

Gortash: 'powerful magic' something you wished you had?.

Gale: I was a child prodigy, powerful magic is something I already have, there's no need to wish for it.

Gortash: you're not a sorcerer though, are you?

Gale: magic is magic, what difference does it make?, I shouldn't expect you to know, it isn't your area of expertise.

Gortash: that's what all wizards say.

Gale: there's absolutely nothing wrong with being a wizard.

Gortash: I never said there was anything wrong. You misunderstood me.

Gale: no, I understood you perfectly. Not really fond of wizards, are you?

Gortash: you mean power hunger magicians? No. Whats to dislike like about them?.

Gale: I assure you, not all wizards are power hungry.

Gortash: no, just the majority.

Gale: you speak as if you weren't power hungry.

Gortash: I never-

Karlach: EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

[t3rritorial-piss1ngs]

The End of the World | John Marston

A/N: This sht is like the first kind of ff I´ve ever written so be gentle + english isn´t my first language :(

Summary: Things seem to come to an end. The Van der Linde Gang isn´t what it used to be. Everyone seems to be under some kind of pressure, waiting how things will eventually turn out. Between this mess, how can love bloom?

Days at camp have been feeling lonelier than ever. Everyone seems to have a stick up their ass since the boys came back from Guarma. Late at night, I’ve caught myself thinking, wouldn’t it have been better if some of them had just found their end there?

But oh, how I’m happy Arthur is finally back. Arthur... where would we all be now if he weren’t with us anymore? Him and Sadie are two of the strongest people I know. I just hope they both come back safely-

"(Y/n)." Oh, I know that voice... and how I missed it.

"John." I looked him directly in his eyes, maybe even staring. How I missed those eyes. For a moment, we did nothing—no fighting, no bickering. Nothing. The only thing you could hear was the flowing river next to us.

"Aren’t you happy to see me?"

Oh, I definitely am. But I’m sure a certain person would be even happier to have you back.

"Yeah, definitely. A good-for-nothing who does nothing around here, finally being back. Aren’t I the luckiest woman in the world?" He shook his head in disbelief, his hands resting on his hips.

"You know, I... I want to be a better man. Being in Sisika gave me a lot of time to think—"

"You? Thinking? Don’t make me laugh. You’re too brain-dead to do something like that. I’m surprised you didn’t break the law of nature by overworking the one brain cell you’ve got."

I really didn’t want to talk to him like that, but in my despair, I just didn’t know what else to say. After we finally got Jack back, things suddenly changed in John. He wanted to sleep with Jack and Abigail in one room, like a real family.

Needless to say, I was jealous. In my defense, John and I had gotten very close after he left the gang for a year. We acted just like a couple, but there was always something between us—his not-so-serious role as a father and his almost non-existent relationship with Abigail. But we both loved each other dearly, right?

"(Y/n)... please, just let me finish, alright? Lend me your ear for just a minute, won’t you?"

I said nothing. He took a deep breath and came a step closer to me. I couldn’t bear it anymore.

"(Y/n), I hope you know that when I’m with you, I’m the happiest man alive. But things can’t go on like this. All of this," he gestures around, at the river, the camp, and at me, "isn’t going to last forever. I realized that. And because of that, I’ve been thinking about the future, about our future. And I... just... honestly... I can’t imagine us growing old together."

He took another breath. "With me having Jack and Abigail, I just... I can’t..."

Oh, how I wanted to scream at him, yell at him for even thinking like that. How things will turn out fine, like they always do. That we’ll find a way. But that isn’t how I feel about this situation at all. I understood him, because I’d been thinking the same thing. I knew things would come to an end—the gang, us. But so soon?

"I understand. I don’t want to stand in the way of you and your family, John. Please, take care of Jack and Abigail. They should be your biggest priority in life. Treat them well. Abigail is a fantastic woman, and Jack is such a sweet little boy." I shook my head, fighting to keep my tears hidden. "Don’t you dare hurt them."

He didn’t say anything. Hell, he didn’t even look at me.

I could feel my tears swelling in my eyes. No words were said. No looks exchanged. Nothing. I started walking down the path that led to the camp. I turned around one last time, just to see him turn his back to me, looking at his feet. I sighed as I continued my way, wondering what I should do now. But in the back of my mind, I knew exactly what to do.

That night, I packed my things and left. Riding wherever the path would lead me.

I left nothing behind except a piece of my heart that I’ll never get back.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

MAC. OH MY GOD. HEAD IN HANDS. HOLY SHIT. ashe is in college (normal college i think??) VYCNENT IS IN SUPERHERO COLLEGE!!!! wiwi fucking around in the woods..... dakota also in college i think??? idk that wasn't super clear 2 me but i think he's there IDK I WAS JUST SO EXCITED FOR ALL OF THEM TO BE LIKE. EXISTING IN THE SAME PLACE!!!! ashe oughhh ashe i missed u ashe <3 i like to think he still has the trickster's wings. thats canon 2 me idc. oh my godd they're doing like. relatively normal shit!!!!!! aaaa!!!! oh i need 2 write a fic about them in college. i got 2. i MUST. even just a oneshot idc i wanna do it!!!

THE IRL MARIOKART AGAIN!!!! LE FROG!!! WILLIAM'S FUNERAL!!!! THE SILLIES ARE BACK!!!!!!!! SHENANIGANS!!!! oh that was so good. that was SO GOOD!!!!! oh im going 2 cry. i didn't cry and then it got to dakota with his aunt and i teared up a lil and then it had william falling off the cliff and landin gin the dirt and just. holding the soil in his hands and feeling it and i actually cried a lil. man. also CANTRIP IS NOT IN THE SPIRIT WORLD!!! WHERE IS SHE!!! DOES THIS MEAN SHE'S ALIVE OR IS SHE A GHOST I DON'T KNOWWWW GOD I WANT 2 KNOW. I WANT 2!!!! and atlas being killed. an X being carved into him. XAVIER VILLAIN ARC????? 👀👀👀👀 PERHAPS??? god i hope so. i would love to see him as a villain. i rly like xavier actually and i think he deserves to go a little apeshit <3 SO EXCITED FOR WHATEVER THE FUCK IS GONNA HAPPEN WITH MAL!!! GUY WAS ALREADY FUCKED UP AND NOW HE'S EVEN MORE UNHINGED!!!!! i like mal a lot. he fucking sucks. terrible horrible awful little man. i love him so much he's such a cool fucking character i want to throw him out a window <3 idiot shit bastard man!!!!!! and william asking vyncent if he would come to ghim funeral. bro was like THIS CLOSE 2 asking him out. i am telling u. and btw william's fucking "vyncent did you realize anything while i was gone?" right ebfore vyncent just passes tf out in ep39 was so fucking. yeah. that's ghostknife!!!!!!! it always almost happens and then it fucking doesn't!!! i love that for them i hope they're ten times as gay and awkward in s3 <3

GOD. that was so good. finales always fuck me up dude. im so fucking emotional. i feel like my entire being is vibrating like a lightning rod or some shit. ALSO u gotta send me more trivia abt the episodes!!! i think the last one u sent me was for episode 15 of s2. GOD PLS SEND ME GREYSCALE AND DEADWOOD TRIVIA!!!!!! I WANT IT!!!!! I WANT 2 KNOW WHAT THE HELL CHARLIE WAS THINKING DURING GREYSCALE. WHAT WERE UR THOUGHTS KING!!! TELL ME MR SLMCL!!!!!!!!

man. im gonna listen 2 bitb next but i feel like i gotta take a few days first yk??? i gotta let that shit sink in. i hope ur havin a good time reading worm <3 i wil start worm soon!! i just wanna get thru jrwi first bc if i try to get into more than one thing at a time that i know will inhabit my entire brain i feel like my brain is melting. too many blorbo thoughts i gotta stick to one thing first. anyway yeah that was. fucking wild <3 ty for getting me into jrwi i regret nothing

HIIIIIIIIIII WHISKEY. SORRY I LET THIS SIT IN MY INBOX FOR SO LONG I LOVE YOU.AUGH. PRIME DEFENDERS MY LOVE. every day i think about yakko showing up in cosplay . that made me so happy. ashe winters i love you so dearly. i have so many thoughts about post s2 ashe. if ashe isnt in s3 im going to fucking riot.

when i tell you that fucking part with the cliff made me UGLY CRY . like full on. "and you stay there" lives in my head forever.

EXTREMELY EXCITED ABOUT A POSSIBLE XAVIER VILLAIN ARC. LIKE. THATS GOTTA BE HIM RIGHT. THAT CANT NOT BE HIM. i wonder if allen is with him. fuck. AND WHERES CANTRIP. GOD. i miss her :( i think she deserves to go full vengeful spirit on williams ass and haunt him like a fucking poltergeist. god forbid women do anything.

dude finales fuck me up so bad too. god. 39 hurts me just a little bit more than 40 but 40 is still SOOOO insanely good to me. 40 was like the breath of fresh air we needed. i dont think 40 hit me as hard as a finale because i know we're getting a 3rd season so its not OVER yet. but something about it just made it feel so much more impactful than a regular season finale. god. i miss them so much.

IM SO GLAD YOU GOT INTO JRWI !!!!!!! ITS BEEN SO FUN SEEING YOU GUYS REACT TO EVERYTHING!!!!!! jrwi has been like. HUGE main hyperfix for me since like. last october. so im having sooooo much fun forever. hehehehe. me when my beloved mutuals and i are all into the same piece of media again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[thesealantern]

Okie so here’s a very unorganised rant about my pink corruption oc Pearl! :3

(@astronic-fr sorry for the ping but I saw you ask about her in the tags of my previous post so yeah-)

I briefly went over her personality before but I’ll go into some more depth.

Pearl’s an introvert, she’s not that good at reading the room or socialising so she tends to just stick to herself most of the time. However once she does get emotionally attached to someone she’s a very loving and loyal person, does she disappear into the woods for a few weeks? Yeah, but Pearl will always come back to you. (If anyone here knows the Moomins she’s kinda like Snuffkin in that regard)

Pearl’s also a very adventurous and easily excitable person, she likes travelling around paradise and seeing new places. (Barracuda ended up inheriting this endless curiosity- for better or worse) She’s easily distracted by things around her and so conversations with Pearl are doomed to trail way off topic.

Now as for her lore with Pyrare:

Pearl and Pyrare met through a mutual friendship with Ajacenus.

The two of them ended up becoming close friends themselves. They’re both more on the quieter side and Pyrare didn’t mind her occasional eccentricity. Pearl was always fond of his kind-hearted and patient nature.

As Pearl got older her family started putting pressure on her to settle down with someone (partially since they believed it would get her head out of the clouds), she never really liked the idea of marriage and starting a family but it didn’t really seem like she could do much else with her life.

So, since Pyrare was one of her dearest friends Pearl thought I’d be only logical for the two of them to get married.

Pyrare himself wasn’t against the idea, he did want to start a family even if his relationship with Pearl didn’t feel quite like how others had described romance.

And so they got married.

It took both of them a good few years to slowly realise neither of them were really romantically interested in one another, for a while they still tried to make it work but in the end they both wanted very different futures.

Pyrare always craved stability and peace, he wanted to start a family and spend the rest of his life in a small comfortable house.

Meanwhile Pearl finds the idea of settling down and staying there agonising. Not to mention the thought of being responsible for a child terrified her.

So they eventually came to a compromise of sorts, they had Barracuda but split up right after. Barracuda stayed under Pyrare’s care, and once he got the hang of being a parent Pearl left. The two of them stayed in contact and Pearl still visited them frequently, being a sort of “cool aunt” figure for Barracuda.

Now, during the events of the first corruption and Barracuda’s death Pearl wasn’t nearby. So she only learnt of the whole incident after it had all already happened from Pyrare when she came back.

Pearl was devastated, even if she hadn’t been a mother to Barracuda for most of his life he was still her baby. She still loved him dearly. In her initial shock and grief Pearl said a lot of things to Pyrare she didn’t really mean, he didn’t take that well.

After Cuda’s death Pyrare isolated himself from pretty much everyone other than Gold (whose existence Pearl didn’t even know about, Pyrare didn’t intentionally hide him but Pearl snapped way before he could begin explaining the caretaker ordeal to her), Pearl herself went into mourning for a few years but unlike Pyrare she soon was back in touch with her loved ones.

Pyrare practically disappearing worried those who knew him. Particularly Ajacenus, even when Pearl still didn’t want to talk to him Ajacenus tried to reach out to him several times. After a while even Pearl grew concerned, but despite the many letters she sent to Pyrare over the course of several years she never got a response.

And so life had to move on.

Pearl has managed to somewhat cope with the whole ordeal but she still blames herself for both lashing out at Pyrare at a time he needed support the most and a part of her also blames herself for Barracuda’s death, maybe if she had been more present in his life she could’ve prevented it somehow…

Also some random lighthearted fun facts so I don’t end this on a depressing mood:

•Pearl has tried to learn how to knit before and despises it with her entire soul, she likes watching Pyrare knit though

•She has a lot of random acquaintances all over paradise

•Both her and Pyrare love physical affection

•When they were younger she used to constantly drag Pyrare out to go on silly adventures or to go exploring with her

•She lived with Ajacenus and her sisters for a short while after Cuda’s death

[vulgrados-best]

For Zacian, how do you feel about Zamazenta?

How I feel about my brother is something I struggle to put into words.

Forgive me if I sound rather annoyingly poetic but how does a Vivillon's wing describe its reflected other half? The pattern is incomplete without it, but how can it exist without the other? I suppose in this metaphor our chosen humans, our heroes who wielded our power, are the body of this Vivillon. The connection between the two wings that then make them whole.

But to extend that metaphor would be to bring in the question of how I feel about my Hero.

So I suppose the more relevant question is simply: How does a sword describe its shield?

Do I talk of my own capacity for violence, and thus of my brother's capacity for protection? Do I talk of the way a sword can be just as much a defense as a shield? Do I talk of the way a shield can harm just as a sword can?

And what if I told you he was not in fact my brother but my sister instead? What if I told you that all of the myths and legends of us stripped us of who we truly were and presented us both as pillars of masculinity and strength? A hope to quell the ideas of would be Joan of Arcs. Of course... they failed. She still happened, and she still burned bright on the pyre. Patron Saint of Kalos they call her.

Zamazenta, quiet soul of the Southern Woods, made to be the Brother, the Prince, the Protector. I too was once considered a Prince, but they have made me Princess. And if not a Princess then I must be the Witch. The one who does not conform into what I am made to be. They once made us into King and Queen, forced my sister to be my brother and made us Gods.

Perhaps I took up that blade not just to defend the right to our country but to fend off all who would try to force my sister into who she is not. A sword taken up out of love. Love for the land. Love for my sister.

In texts they name me eldest, but I reject that notion. Fundamentally, Zamazenta must be the eldest... for what is an older sibling if not a shield? The one who takes the brunt of the mistakes and mishaps of their parents.

Equally, what is a younger sibling if not a knife? The knife in your side, the knife you take out of the hands of a child before they stick it in the toaster, the knife that is pointed at you during an argument over fruit.

Of course, an elder sibling can be a sword. But a younger sibling can never be a shield, it is not the position they were born in to.

I suppose to answer your question: I love him. Very dearly.

[sacredstarcatcher]

Cruel Summer - Part 8

Jake x Reader x Sam

Warnings: Shower sex, alcohol, language, angst, fluff. Not in that order.

A/N: Thanks for being here if you've made it this far. Mondays are the best day of the week because of all of you. <3 Special shoutout to my reader/editor/biggest fan, I love you dearly.

Your return from LA left you with three weeks of summer before school started again. You spent most days with Sam, enjoying as much as you could together without parading around Nashville and being noticed, either by a fan or one of his own numerous family members. The guilt was still hanging heavy in the air over the two of you, the stress of sneaking around ever-present. Still, you didn’t speak about it.

The guilt aside, days with Sam were peaceful and easy. Once the pickles you made together were ready, you watched him as he pulled the first jar of pickles from the fridge and popped open the jar with impressive strength, the veins in his hands showing the strain as he twisted the lid. That paired with the loud pop echoing through the kitchen meant there was a good seal, and they had come out just right. He held out the first bite to you, letting you taste test. It turns out he was absolutely right; you would miss him and his secret pickle recipe you didn’t listen to if he just so happened to end up getting struck by lightning or whatever he said. 

Sometimes, you would spend the day at home. There was the afternoon you decided to paint in the backyard. You watched as Sam stood around in the #1 Dad shirt you thrifted, dripping paint on it while mixing colors, spilling paint-water in the grass as he held the cup out of Rosie’s reach when she tried to drink it. He pulled his hair back in a low bun as he knelt down and worked on something a little abstract, his brow occasionally knitting in concentration. He held the tiny brush between his fingers and delicately added brushstrokes, and sometimes he took a bigger brush in his entire fist, letting his creative genius take over. His painting got weirder as he went on, but it all made sense when you realized how drunk he had gotten drinking seltzer in the sun. He abandoned the masterpiece halfway through and the two of you took an afternoon nap. 

Then there were days you would adventure together. Your favorite was the day you rode bikes- taking a trip out about an hour from home and renting a pair of them to drive around the trails. Eventually you got to the waterfall, where you cooled off and shared more than a few sweet kisses in the little cave behind the rushing water, his ears sticking out through his wet hair, giggles echoing in the space that was all your own; as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Watching Sam’s skin get tanner as you spent the summer days with him made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Between evenings in the hammock looking at the sky, mornings tangled in the sheets as the sunlight made his eyes shine the sweetest honey brown, and afternoons eating sandwiches with a pickle on the side, you were the happiest you had ever been. 

It wasn’t lost on you, however, that Josh, Jake, and Danny had completely fallen off your radar. You were so wrapped up in each other that you didn’t spare a thought for them over those two weeks. They were all but radio silent until Jake texted Sam, asking him to water his plants when he went out of town for the weekend. 

That’s how you ended up in Jake’s house with Sam on a Sunday afternoon. 

-oOo-

“We can’t drink his wine while he’s away. He’s definitely going to notice,” you say, admonishing Sam. “That’s the good stuff. He likes his reds. Put it back.” 

Sam laughs and ignores you, twisting the opener. The cork pops from the bottle and there’s no turning back. He smirks as he pours each of you a glass.

“It’s not like he keeps a catalog. He won’t notice.” He slides the glass towards you. “I’ll even take the bottle with me when we leave.” Sam holds his up by the stem, gently clinking it against yours. You roll your eyes and take a sip, realizing that there were some sibling dilemmas you could and should stay out of. Though the dilemma you were actually in dwarfed the wine issue infinitely.

“You know, I really think this house is haunted,” Sam muses, taking another drink as he waits for the watering can to fill with water. “I mean, don’t you feel that?” He scrunches up his shoulders as if he’s got the creeps. “Something just feels off.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.” You shake your head with a smile, affectionately looking at Sam and his goofy display. He makes his way around the first floor of Jake’s house, watering the plants. You meander around too, trying to avoid remembering the things that happened on the kitchen table, or against the front door, or right up the steps. Your mind is in another place when you turn a corner at the same time as Sam, knocking into each other. The wine in your glass ends up in your hair and all over your white t-shirt. 

“Oh fuck, sorry. Oh my god.” He runs into the kitchen to grab a towel as you stand where you are, burgundy wine dripping from your hair and shirt. He zooms back in and cleans up the excess, mumbling to himself. Once he pats your hair dry, he throws the towel over his shoulder and cups your cheeks in his hands.

“Sorry.” He kisses you gently, once. “I’m sorry I ruined your shirt.” He gives you another, his lips soft and lingering just a little longer. “I’ll buy you a hundred more.” He comes in for another tender kiss.

You can’t help but smile against his lips as he expresses his dramatic remorse. It’s not the end of the world, but you let him kiss you anyway. You pull him closer, slipping your hand just under the light fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, pressing your fingertips to his tan, warm skin.

“I don’t need a hundred more.” You mumble against his lips. He deepens the kiss and you can’t silence the moan from the back of your throat. His tongue, so gentle as it meets yours, tastes of Jake’s favorite red wine. It makes your stomach flip. 

“Fine. Just one then. Maybe two.” Sam moves to press gentle kisses to your throat, his voice low and meant just for you. You cling to him in the front room of Jake’s home, the blinds open to the street outside. It’s wrong. But you can’t resist when he holds you firmly by your waist, bringing you snug to him. “Do you forgive me?”

“Sammy..” you chide, because you were never mad at him in the first place. As if calling him by the sweetest name spurs him on, he immediately kisses you again, this time with more urgency. He groans softly against your lips, and if you had any reservations about doing this in Jake’s house, they were all erased the moment you heard it. Your body curves up to his as his tongue slips gently against yours and he pulls you in tighter by the small of your back.

He sighs against your lips between kisses, his hand coming up to push your hair behind your ear and cup your jaw. He reacts a bit when he realizes it’s wet and sticky with wine.

“Why don’t you come upstairs with me… and let me wash your hair, huh? I made a mess of you, didn’t I?” He gently kisses the shell of your ear after whispering to you. You shake your head gently against his, letting out a little laugh. “He doesn’t come back until tomorrow.”

“You’re pushing your luck,” you say, knowing what he’s up to. “Not here.” 

Sam, the ever persistent and quietly brilliant man he is, knows exactly how to magnificently weaponize himself against you. He pulls you in for one more kiss, tugging your body towards his. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and when he releases it, he lets out a breathy, slutty whine. The way it changes your mind immediately is something that scientists should really look into- it’s the most powerful drug that’s ever hit your system.

“Okay,” you say breathlessly into his mouth. “Okay, yeah. Upstairs.” 

It’s a minute before you’re all hands and mouths inside the guest bathroom of Jake’s house. Sam holds you and leans over to turn on the shower as you keep yourself busy, kissing and nipping at his neck. You can’t get enough of the taste of him, and you latch on to the skin below his collarbone, sucking and biting. He didn’t have a show for weeks. Nobody would see. 

He hisses at the pain, chuckling and standing up straight again once the water’s on. He makes quick work of tossing your stained t-shirt across the room. You watch him as he undresses you- his eyes taking in every inch of skin they can find, his lips curved into a soft smirk.

His shirt, already unbuttoned, slides off with ease and hits the floor to lay with the rest of your clothing. He steps out of his shorts and is soon navigating the two of you into the shower. The warm water runs over both of you and you pull him in for another messy kiss.

You break for a moment as he pulls your hair over your shoulder, and then you take a look at your surroundings. You had only ever seen the shower in Jake’s room. This one’s different. It’s tiled with white on the walls and blue on the floor. The corner has a bench built into it, the shimmering navy terrazo of the seat glistening as water runs over it. The moment you lay eyes on it, your eyes dart back up to Sam’s with a devilish glint in them.

“Oh, he never showed you this?” he says smartly, and you pinch at his hip bone as if to silently tell him to shut the hell up.

“Sit,” is all you say instead, and he obeys immediately. You crawl into his lap and he holds you close, the warm water running down your back and over your hair, your body shielding him from the spray. The angle allows you to look down at him and you see his warm, pleading eyes. You lower your hips, feeling the length of him slide easily against you, pulling a moan from both of you.

“Mm, yeah,” he lets out, his hands on your hips. “Do that again.” 

Just like that, he’s back in control, even from below. You oblige, rolling your hips again, a slick, lewd feeling that makes your cheeks flush. His head falls back and you can’t help but be pleased with yourself.

“Feel good?” you ask, snatching back control. He lifts his head, looking down at what you’re doing. He nods, sparing a glance up at you through his dark lashes.  

“Want it inside, hmm?” he asks, a little breathless, the tug of war between you two waging on.

“Yeah,” you let out, letting him have this one. Your voice is whiny as you hold steady on his tan shoulders. 

“Yeah you do,” he croons, a smug look on his face now that he’s won. “Go on.” 

Without hesitating, you listen, lining him up and sinking down easily. 

“Oh,” he lets out, and you smirk, butterflies in your stomach over the way you can make him do that. He breathes heavily as you begin to move your hips, bouncing slowly. His eyes are raking over your chest, your neck, your face. His expression is a mix between amazement and hunger.

Wanting, needing to see his reactions as you work to please him, you sink down a little quicker, moans coming from both of you at the feeling. 

“Like that. Keep going.” He remains in control as he adjusts the way he’s sitting, his hips lifting a little higher as he slouches just a bit for you. You keep your balance on the towel bar and his shoulder, starting to move faster and harder. You could get drunk off the way his eyes roll back slightly in his head every now and then as you carry on. It makes a fire burn in your belly, your heart racing as you ride him. 

As if he can read your mind, his hand moves down to swirl lightly over your clit, immediately sending your eyes rolling back, your face and chest flushing scarlet with the heat of your oncoming orgasm. It’s almost criminal how good he looks when you lay eyes on him, his mouth in a soft, almost starstruck smile as he watches you. 

“Give it to me,” he whispers, and there’s no way you could have stopped yourself. You fall over the edge, crying out his name, your hand gripping to his shoulder so tightly you’re sure there will be scratches later. He chuckles in amazement, murmuring praises as you come down. 

“There you go…,” he praises, his hand moving from your hips now that you’re not at quite as big a risk of falling. His thumb grazes your nipple, adoring you, admiring you as you catch your breath. “Slow down for me,” he says, still holding the reins. 

Your eyes come back into focus, moving slowly and a little shakily. Something about the sight of him- the way his ears stuck out in front of the wet hair pushed behind his ear, the few strands stuck to his forehead, the droplets running down his bicep and chest… it unleashes something in you. 

Completely disregarding his request, you speed up, enjoying the feeling of him slick and fast inside of you. His eyes go wide as he scrambles to grab your hips, trying to steady you, but it’s no use. You carry on, watching the way his brow furrows in concentration.

“Slow down, pretty girl,” he warns, his voice cracking, an overwhelmed laugh leaving his chest. Smirking with heavy eyes, you tilt your chin up, watching him down the bridge of your nose. A soft whimper escapes your lips at the sight of him almost desperate beneath you, his hands trying to hold you still. The sight of him flustered, his sweet eyes begging you to slow down only fuels you. 

“I’m- Oh, fuck…” he groans, his eyes squeezing shut. He takes a big deep breath, trying to keep a grip on his slipping composure. You slow down for just a moment, giving him a break to breathe, and he gives you a look that says, ‘wait, what are you doing?!’ with his thick brows. Your eyes roll at his bratty attitude and he makes up your mind for you. You were going to let him win, but not anymore.

He gasps as you pick up the pace again, fucking him with quick, short, punctuated movements of your hips. It’s only seconds before he’s gripping your hips and ass so hard you’re sure there will be bruises. His voice is thin and hoarse as you listen to him groan, starting curses and not finishing them, squeezing his eyes shut. 

You watch with determined eyes as his abdomen flexes, the muscles in his sides rippling as he comes undone, fucking him through it until he’s completely spent inside you. 

Pushing the strands of wet hair stuck to his forehead aside, you offer him a sweet smile and eyes full of adoration. All he can do is shake his head and chuckle, pulling you down to him for a loving kiss. 

“What are the chances I can convince you to remodel your bathroom?” you ask, standing up to actually take your shower.

“No convincing necessary. I’ll start making calls.” Sam laughs a bit as he helps you wet your hair, finally washing the wine out.

-oOo-

After successfully using all of Jake’s hot water, the two of you step out and get dried off. Sam wraps a towel around his hips and takes a smaller one for his hair. 

“What time is it?” you ask, seeing the sky getting darker. You towel off, standing in the shower.

“Dunno. I left my phone downstairs.” He opens the bathroom door and you hear him pad down the steps. Grabbing the blow dryer under the sink, you wrap a towel around you before giving it a quick dry. You don’t hear another sound over the whirring around your head.

Meanwhile, Sam makes his way downstairs in his towel, running a hand through his wet hair as he goes. He steps into the kitchen and grabs his phone, checking the time. Waiting for him are three missed calls from Jake. 

Before he hits Jake’s name to return the call, he hears the beeping of the code being entered into the front door. Sam’s head snaps up to see Jake, back early. His heart drops, the blood draining from his face.

“Hey,” Jake says, pulling his duffle bag through the door. “I wrapped up early. Tried to call you and tell you not to bother with the plants.” He steps past Sam into the kitchen, putting the mail down on the counter. “Seems you made yourself comfortable anyway,” he remarks with a chuckle, seeing Sam’s shirtless in a towel.

Sam’s face is unreadable. He’s not sure what option he has here. He chooses to laugh awkwardly, frozen in place, staring at the door, brain working overtime to come up with some kind of plan. 

The clicking of Jake’s boots stops, the room utterly silent. Sam turns around to face Jake and sees his brow furrowed as if he’s listening. He hears the hairdryer. Jake’s eyes move to Sam’s guilty face, then to the counter behind him where the two wine glasses sit. 

Jake’s face has dropped, a scowl now clearly spread across his lips and brows. It feels like an eternity passes as they stare at each other. 

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Jake asks, dead serious. 

Sam just blinks for a moment, swallowing. His mouth has gone dry. 

“Who?”

Jake leans on the counter and his fingers go to the bridge of his nose. He lets out a huff.

“You think I’m stupid?” Jake’s voice is quiet, controlled. “I saw you leave the fucking show together. I tried to write it off as her treading lightly around me but… now… NOW I get it.” His voice raises the slightest bit and Sam frowns. 

There’s a pause, the room dead silent aside from the sound of you upstairs drying your hair, absentmindedly humming.

“So… what? Are you mad?” Sam braces his hands behind him on the counter and crosses his legs. The tone of his voice is a little too nonchalant, and it sets Jake off.

“Am I mad?” Jake’s voice is loud and he pounds a fist on the countertop, his stare incredulous as he shouts. “What the fuck do you think, Sam? You didn’t think for one goddamn second that maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t fuck her? For any reason?” 

Sam doesn’t flinch at the way Jake raises his voice- as if he’s used to the temper that hides beneath the surface. The blow dryer upstairs turns off. You think you hear voices over the white noise so you wait and listen curiously.

Instead of reacting to Jake , he steps towards the fridge to grab a drink. The crack of the can is the only sound you hear, so you turn the dryer back on and continue what you’re doing. 

Sam takes a deep breath before he responds to Jake. 

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t give her what she wanted.” He sips the top of the can, his big eyes giving Jake a look that says, “too bad.”

“I was fucking trying, Sam. You know-...” He trails off, his anger getting the best of him as he pushes away from the counter, a loud, “FUCK” echoing through the house. He turns back to Sam after a moment, his eyes tired and dark. “You know that shit is hard for me.” 

You heard the voices for sure that time. You turn off the dryer in a panic and listen again. This time, you can make out some murmuring as you creep towards the top of the stairs.

“You didn’t tell her that. You told her the exact opposite, actually.” Sam lets out a humorless chuckle, taking another sip. “You told her if she wanted to find someone who wanted to be exclusive… Give her… I believe the terms were ‘a house and a dog’... she could go find them. So? She did.” His shoulders shrug, his wet hair dangling over them.

“I didn’t expect it to be my fucking BROTHER, Sam!” Jake throws up his arms, the frustration in his voice coming through clear as a bell. “Are you not getting that!?”

You hear it all upstairs, frozen where you stand on the top step. You’re completely numb, heart beating out of your chest, every one of your nerves frayed and on fire. 

Sam doesn’t respond to Jake. It’s quiet for another moment before Jake pipes up, his voice quieter now.

“You want to give that to her?” He scoffs, a condescending laugh coming from deep in his chest. “Be honest, Sammy boy. You’ll be cheating again in a year.”

Sam puts his drink down, his face screwed up in offense. He’s defensive, but his voice remains calm. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh yeah?” A cruel smirk makes its way onto Jake’s face. He raises his eyebrows at Sam in disbelief. 

“I love her.” 

You take a step back in shock at Sam’s admission to Jake. It’s then that the worn floorboards of Jake’s old home creak underneath your feet and give you away. Both of their heads turn to look at the stairs as you step down a few and step into view. You see the way they’re looking at you and can’t help but start to cry.

Jake stares at you standing in one of his baggy t-shirts, since yours is laid over the chair in front of him, covered in wine. Your hair is still slightly damp and messy, your makeup long gone, your eyes red. He walks off from where he’s standing, snatching his keys from the table. 

“You better not be here when I get back,” he says to Sam. You’re frozen, unable to say anything, too scared to stop him. He flies out the door, slamming it behind him.  

-oOo- 

The drive home from Jake’s house to Sam’s is silent. You assume Sam can’t be too mad at you, seeing as he picked you up today. He could have very well dumped you off at your apartment and gone home alone, but he didn’t. Once he parks, the two of you get out and are standing in front of each other in the garden, the sun finally setting on the worst day of your life. 

“I meant what I said,” he says, his hands in his pockets. “Back there.”

“Even if I just Yoko-Ono’d your band of brothers?” You can’t help but crack a small smile and laugh under your breath.

“You’re not the first girl to come between a pair of Kiszka brothers.” Sam laughs, reaching for your hand to pull you close. “It’s just usually the twins. I had a clean record until you came along.” He mumbles into your hair, holding your head close to him. You can feel the anxiety and tension melt away from you as the rumble of his voice rolls through his chest. 

“Sorry.” The apology comes out quietly, muffled. 

“It’ll be okay.” He pulls back, gently cupping your cheeks in his hands, bending just a bit to look into your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, Sammy. I’m so sorry.” All of the emotions circling in your head seem to pile up and the tears finally come. “I… I have to talk to him.” You look up at his face, your eyes sad. “I have to.” 

Sam’s expression is pained, but he nods. “Promise me you’ll come back.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips. “Tonight. And every night.” 

“I promise. I just… I have to make things right.”

With that, you gently take his Tesla’s key card from his wallet and kiss Sam one more time before hopping in and driving yourself back to Jake’s. 

@reesetrippingthelight@samstopochico@jordie-gvf-admin@jakesgrapejuice@spark-my-nature@gvfcinema@joshysgirl@hellowgoodbye@ageofwagner@katelynn-gvf@ohgodthefeeling-gvf@fwzco

Part 9

[sororalice]

On The Blessedness Of Fire

A homily for Beltane 2024.

Dearly Beloved,

A very blessed Beltane to all those in the Northern Hemisphere and a very blessed Samhain to all those in the Southern Hemisphere!

The Gaelic word “beltane” means “bright fire”, and historically the celebration of Beltane involved the lighting of the Beltane fire, around which cattle were driven, over which people leapt and danced, and from which the extinguished fires of the community—the fires of their hearths and stoves, lamps and forges—would be ceremonially relit each year. And likewise Samhain, celebrated now by our siblings in the Southern Hemisphere, has historically been celebrated with great bonfires. Given this dual significance to this blessed moment, I am moved to speak today on the blessedness of fire.

As apprentices, we learn that fire is one of the five elements, and that it signifies passion, intensity, and inspiration. Perhaps we learn formulae like that of the Tetragrammaton and the Pentagrammaton, and thus learn that fire is a beginning, a holy place where a spark gives rise to all creation. And like all true formulae of magick, we find that science comes to agree with us, that now the physicists and cosmologists agree with the ancient mages that all existence began with a spark, with an explosion, with fire. The insight of our ancestors into fire was a real insight, not mere symbolism or metaphor: reality indeed began with fire. So what else can we know about fire? What else does fire have to teach us? What is the essential secret of fire?

Fire burns.

Fire, when balanced with the other elements and unified through spirit, provides dynamic motion and action to the gestalt that is the Formula of the Pentagram, thus guiding us in both our magick and our mysticism. Fire is our inspiration, and it is upon our inspiration that the Great Work depends. And fire is our passion, which motivates us and gets us moving when the forces of inertia would otherwise keep us still.

But like all of the elements, fire is a dual phenomenon. It can warm our homes, cook our food, and give us light by which to see…and it can cause devastation beyond all imagining. Within its beautiful flickering lives the secrets of both life and death. Magickally, spiritually, and physically, fire is often the agent of transformation, rendering the fixed fluid and the fluid fixed, and transformation can be painful, even excruciating. For generations, we have lived in fear of atomic fire raining down from the clouds, and the “Book of Revelation” of St. John of Patmos teaches that our universe will someday end in fire. As it was in the beginning, so it shall be in the end:

Fire burns.

But what does fire burn? What is its fuel? As pagans, we believe in a naturalized theology, so what can nature teach us about fire? In nature, fire requires two things to burn: air and fuel. Air, of course, is our reason and our communication, the blade and the bridge, the stick and the rope. But what is the fuel? Well, water can’t be fuel for fire, obviously; water can boil away, but it cannot properly burn. And fire cannot be its own fuel, because left to itself fire just burns out. So we are left with earth…the physical realm, the planet itself, and our own bodies.

That’s right. We’re the fuel. Fire burns. It motivates and transforms and inspires…and it will eventually burn us up. It will give us heat and drive, passion and transformation…and one day it will be finished transforming us. Our ancestors leapt and danced over the flames to take them in, to be inspired and fertile with the power of fire, and we leap and dance with them in our celebrations of this moment, this sacred and blessed moment when the light in the north returns and the light in the south recedes, and we remember the holy secret, the lesson of fire:

Fire burns.

Happy Beltane and Samhain.

In love,

Soror Alice

Art: Walter Crane, “A Garland For May Day”, 1895