#basket stand varies

[espionn]

LeafWing tribe sheet!

its over, i finally did them all. sorry this one took a while, ive been losing motivation, but at least its done!! honestly i love leafwings, so im glad i could get them out.

Physical Appearence + Traits:

-LeafWings are arboreal dragons, living in and relying on trees to hunt, shelter and sleep. Their talons are perfectly shaped to comfortably climb and hold onto branches, and their narrow wings allow them to swoop and weave through the trees without crashing.

-LeafWings’ colors, physical traits, and even demeanor shift and change with the seasons. During the summer, their frills and wings are rich green, and scales bright and glossy. They have higher energy and sleep less. During the fall, their colors shift to a warmer spectrum, their leafy frills start to flake off, and they start to prepare for winter. Once winter arrives, they lose their frills, tail-leaf and wing membranes, as well as turning duller and darker. They spend the majority of winter asleep, relying on the trees’ bare branches for camouflage, now rendered flightless. Finally, during spring, they wake up, their colors brighten, and their wing membranes return. The buds that grow along their backs open up and form their spine frills before summer begins.

-LeafWings are lithe and agile, and are very quiet fliers, especially when compared to HiveWings and SilkWings.

-During the summer, with their wings at their fullest, they can actually photosynthesize. They still need to eat food, but anytime they sleep during the day with their wings open to the sun, they wake up energized and not needing to eat for a while after. 

-The coloration and shape of LeafWings’ wings varies both by region and individual. Some LeafWings mimic specific types of trees.

-Some LeafWings also have Leafspeak, an ability which allows them to communicate with plants and even control them if powerful enough. 

Life Cycle:

-LeafWings hatch in clutches of one or two. They take around 5 months to hatch, and they are deeply reliant on their parents and their wider community. LeafWings are strongly protective of their dragonets. They also grow up somewhat quickly, reaching physical maturity quickly, but they continue to grow in size their entire lives.

-They partner for life, but often only raise one clutch of eggs (sometimes only a single egg) in their lifetime. The tribe is somewhat small as a result.

-LeafWings don’t have an official education system, instead relying on parents, peers and older, more experienced dragons to teach them what they need to know. LeafWings can then go on to pursue whatever tribe role stands out to them, using a sort of mentoring system.

Society and Culture:

-Before LeafWings were split into two groups, the tribe was quite peaceful and unified. The queen, by tradition, always had a council, and they lived nearby and alongside SilkWings. The tribe was known for being friendly and knowledgeable, and deeply dedicated to caring for the forest. 

-LeafWings are also very resourceful. From various leaves, grasses, bits of wood, flowers, and insects, they could create baskets and rugs, thin slats of wood to write on, dyes, storage objects, and various weapons and food preparing tools. Learning to make and control fire meant they could progress faster. They were also talented woodcarvers, weavers and artists, sometimes trading not only supplies, but also various art pieces to and from the SilkWings. 

-They were expert foragers, and had records of every type of tree, plant and animal in their forest. Many had  small gardens of their own - medicinal herbs, spices, and plants they simply found pretty. 

-Those with leafspeak were beloved and respected in the tribe, not dissimilar to animus dragons. Sometimes they would mould the shape of trees’ growth to create proper homes and nests for dragons to spend the nights, especially in winter.

-They have tribe-wide celebrations to mark spring, when they all wake from torpor, and the summer solstice, when they are at their highest energy and fullest lives. 

-The SapWings, after the tribe was forcibly split, remained very similar culturally, though they lost their ability to trade and had to concentrate on survival in the poison jungle. The PoisonWings, meanwhile, changed dramatically. They became distinctly aggressive and warlike, taking their understanding of plants and animals and weaponizing them. They used the many venoms, poisons and sharp, dangerous objects throughout the jungle to their full advantage. A number of dragons died in the process, but those who survived became stronger.

-LeafWings believe that plants hold some level of consciousness, and some believe that they are animated by fully conscious spirits, each with its own unique consciousness and opinions. Trees are unanimously believed to be extremely wise and benevolent, and as deserving utmost care and respect. They are treated as if they were tribe elders themselves. It was once agreed upon by all leafspeakers that if a tree resisted a request, they were not allowed to make any attempt to force it to do what they wanted. Leafspeakers would also be used to make requests before cutting off any part of the tree to use - if it refused, it would be left alone. (It isn’t hard to imagine the way they felt when the entire forest was cut and burned down by the HiveWings.)

Diet: Omnivorous. LeafWings eat meat (birds, rodents, sometimes large mammals and reptiles), sometimes raw, sometimes cooked, and also a wide variety of plants, fruits and nuts. Because of the versatility of their diet, they have a great number of meals they like to prepare, usually garnished with herbs, spices and sweeteners like honey and certain types of tree sap.

[seiwas]

for your ask! kita and farmers market au where he has a little stand and sells his rice :)

heids!! thanks for playing with me 🥺 this is an adorable au!! shoutout to @mieiri for helping me find pics 🥹

kita + farmers market au

kita joins the farmer’s market on every other sunday of the month.

his rice stall is quaint, barely even a full stall if he’s considering the technicalities. the display on his table consists of baskets of rice, all in varying grains and types, along with a few spices from akane-san, the middle-aged lady he agreed to partner with to help her cut booth costs.

it’s a good partnership, he thinks—he’s learned a fair bit about spiced rice.

business today is as usual: slow in the early morning, but bustling once it reaches 8:30 a.m.; he’s become familiar with the locals just as much as they trust him and the quality of his rice. and everything is as it usually is, except—

“hello,” you approach his booth, your smile a little shy as you gather what to say.

akane-san glances from the side.

in your hands lie two jars of jam, one a deep purple, and the other a bright orange.

he tilts his head slightly to acknowledge you, “good morning.”

you offer the jars of jam while chuckling nervously, “we’re neighbours,” you gesture towards the booth beside his, “this is my first time here, so…”

akane-san rises from her seat, smiling at you graciously, “those look delicious, my dear. you made them yourself?”

you look at her, flustered as you nod. akane-san nudges kita closer, his feet nearly stepping over yours as he inches forward.

“this is very kind of you, thank you,” kita offers his palms for you to place the glass jars on. akane-san reaches for the purple one and pops it open, the scent of wild berries filling the space between you.

she hums, long and delighted. kita smiles softly, “welcome to the market. i’m sure your jams will be a hit.”

.

it’s your sixth farmer’s market now, the fourth one you’ve spent as kita’s stall neighbour. and it’s been nice, having your company around, he thinks.

you are sweet, just as the jams you make are, and you never fail to give him a jar or two before selling even starts.

in exchange, he gives you rice, different grains and different types; he learns about your cooking schedule, and what you intend to cook for the rest of the week, just so he can give you the correct ones.

akane-san tells him that he should ask you out.

“you smile a lot around her,” she mumbles to him as you walk back to your booth. you’d just finished grabbing some lunch with kita during your break.

“it would be rude to frown, akane-san,” he settles back behind the display, hiding his smile.

she tuts, jokingly hitting him on the arm, “don’t be all smart ass with me.”

kita laughs, its sound echoing down to your booth. you turn to his direction upon hearing it and end up locking eyes. much to his surprise, he doesn’t turn away, and instead settles into giving you a smile.

it’s not like he denied what akane-san said anyway.

.

something is different the day kita walks up to your booth with a carton of eggs in his hands instead of rice.

(you’d mentioned something about wanting to try your hand at a quiche—that must be the reason why, you tell yourself).

he stands in front of your booth, shirt tucked in a little more properly than it normally is, and hands over the carton.

“fresh from the farm,” he starts, “thought i’d bring you some.”

“you didn’t have to,” you reach for it gently, your fingertips grazing the dips between his knuckles as you lower your head slightly.

“thank you for your sponsorship,” you add on, teasingly, “i’ll have to let you try the quiche now, once i make it.”

he laughs, waiting as you take your time opening the carton.

and when you do, the look on your face makes him wish he captured the moment. maybe with that polaroid camera atsumu gifted him last christmas.

inside the carton of eggs is a small cluster of flowers, handpicked (you can tell) and joined together by knotted grass.

(it’s sweet, you think, that there are even a few stems of a rice plant in the mix.)

the expression on your face is a mixture of confusion and surprise, and kita has never been one to be flustered or nervous for anything, but—

“i,” he clears his throat, “have been meaning to ask, actually,” another cough. your stare shoots straight into his nerves.

“would—“ you begin.

“would—“ he manages to say at the same time.

you both giggle, and he clears his throat again, reaching his hand out, “sorry, please go first.”

(the sentence forms itself in your mind, and you stare at the flowers again, a glimpse of courage, before you speak—)

“would you want to make some quiche with me?”

and kita smiles. is ‘no’ even an answer to anything you ask?

[florencemtrash]

Flame, Shadow, Beast : Flame

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Fluffy Eris x Reader and our favorite monster, Bryaxis, makes an appearance.

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was a cruel irony that winning a war was the easiest part of ruling. Eris thought about it often, doubts invading his rare moments of quiet; Maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe the lives of thousands of Autumn Court members - both those loyal to him and to his father - hadn’t been worth the weight of the crown now sitting on his head.

The wood and gold had been harvested from the body of one of the Old Gods to whom some of the rural folk still owed their ultimate allegiance; the rubies had come from a land beyond the western seas as a declaration of war back when they’d been ruled by a more ancient race of beings - the predecessors to the Blood Rubies the Summer Court was so fond of doling out. Eris wondered if he’d ever get used to carrying so much history on his body. 

The sun had barely crested over the treetops, blanketing the forest floor with streams of liquid gold, when he came across your village. The first fae he saw - a female with short elk horns extending gracefully from her temples - nearly dropped her basket at the sight of him. Eris gently bowed his head in greeting and her face flushed as crimson as the red garment dye that stained her hands. 

“My High Lord,” She breathed out, dropping to her knees despite the prickling straw that perpetually littered the roads.

Heads of varying shades of chestnut and scarlet appeared behind closed windows like candlights. During the harvest months everyone woke and slept with the sun. 

One by one fae streamed out of their homes, each of them carrying tribute in the form of freshly baked bread, baskets of apples and peaches, sheepskin cloaks, and barrels of mead. 

“Stand.” Eris gently commanded them as they fell to their knees, “We’re just passing through.” He could see the hesitation in their eyes. They feared disrespecting him. 

Eight years of being High Lord and he had yet to perfect the delicate balance between distance and familiarity with his people. 

Halvor coughed from beside him, eyes raised from beneath the shadow of his bronze helm.

Get off your horse and talk to them. His eyes said, repeating the mantra that you liked to say around the royal pair.

Eris understood and dismounted with grace and power. With his scarlet and gold riding cloak, flaming hair, and ruby crown he looked like the spirit of Autumn come to life - all sharp edges and burning stoicism. He was a living fire.

But fire could give warmth as much as pain - nurture and grow as much as it could raze the world to the ground. So Eris took his time to speak with the people. He sampled their mead and ale, complimented the pixies who wove threads of warm oranges, yellows, and reds with their nimble fingers, and visited the rolling fields of corn, barley, and wheat that waved in the brisk breeze. The gray-tinged sky above tasted of power and freedom. 

Under Beron’s reign, the fruits of the fields would have fallen entirely under the purview of the High Lord with little remaining for the people who tended the long grasses. Now that they were allowed to own their own land and keep what was due to them, the air was lighter here, happier. It was the first harvest in a long time where they’d feel comfortable enough to celebrate properly.

The mask ebbed away, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in ages as he walked through a town.

A familiar face stared out from behind the small crowd that had gathered by the wheat fields. Talk of this year’s harvest festival rose in the air until everyone could taste the spiced rum, roasted pistachios, caramelized apples, and pumpkin with fresh cream on their tongues. It was still months away, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get excited now. 

Eris broke away - an easy task when they parted ways for him like a hot knife through butter - and approached your smiling figure.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long.” You said, clasping your hands behind your back and smiling at Eris.

“So you came all this way just to investigate?” Eris arched his brow. You were no stranger to these people (and much beloved), but you preferred to keep to your little cottage beyond the town.

“Surprisingly, yes. For you, I would come all this way. And,” You shook the small parcel in your arm, “For Aliona’s candles.”

He grinned and offered you his arm, which you accepted, and quietly began to walk back to where Halvor had been dutifully waiting with the horses… and taking more than a few samples of drinks from beside his stead. 

“I also wanted to make sure he hadn’t killed you in your sleep yet.” You said, tilting your head towards his brother. 

“Careful, Y/n.”

Halvor was the youngest of Autumn’s trueborn sons, and had grown to become Eris’s second over the course of the war and the years that followed. Cruelty was still hammered into his bones - a disfiguring mark left by their father - but disloyalty was not one of his many negative traits. He’d been the only one to come to Eris’s aid in the war, and subsequently the last of Eris’s brothers to survive. That counted for something in your book.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it seriously, but I could’ve poked fun in a better way.” You said softly, gently leaning into his side. He forgave you quickly. He could never stay angry at you - he wasn’t even sure it was possible.

Halvor tipped his head towards you, eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee staring at you with mischief.

“My Lady.” He said half-mockingly, sweeping out his arm into a shallow bow. 

You rolled your eyes. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“Why not? Is my brother not a good enough romp for you? If you want better company I could-” 

Eris cut off his words with a growl of warning. Halvor only tipped his head back and laughed - a grating sound that eight years of peace under Eris’s rule still hadn’t managed to file away.

“We’ll be walking to her home from here.” Eris said, slipping into his High Lord voice, “Try and keep your distance and be on the lookout.” Halvor nodded, turning serious at the shift in his brother’s voice. There were countless enemies who would be happy to snatch the crown away from a new, as of yet untested, High Lord.

He followed obediently, keeping his distance as you and Eris both bade farewell to the townspeople. 

You lived on a patch of land too far to even be considered the outskirts of town, but you were a familiar face to everyone. A healer by trade and Eris’s most trusted advisor and friend, you were the one they called upon in the dead of night when evil whispered nearby or sickness fell upon them. 

Evaldre, they called you in one of the Old Tongues. The exact meaning had been lost to time, but it spoke of someone cherished and highly regarded. Some of the bold ones even went so far as to call you “Our High Lady.” 

Ten years ago uttering those words would have meant the swift swing of a sword on one’s neck. If High Lord Eris knew of it, he never seemed to mind.

Bryaxis waited for you on your doorstep, pleasantly lounging in a patch of light and watching the gentle fall of crisp leaves from the trees above. Both Eris and Halvor’s horses groaned low in their throats, hooves pressing into the soil to stop before the clearing. Halvor whistled at them to move forward, but they refused.

“It’s that devil dog of yours,” Halvor said, dismounting and tying off the pair on a low hanging elm branch, “Makes them anxious.”

He whispered words of comfort to them, sliding his hands along their thick necks until they stopped bucking against the reins. Eris had his dogs and Halvor had his horses.

“He’ll stay inside then. Wouldn’t want you to have to walk back to the Forest House with your tail between your legs because you lost the horses.”

Eris smirked when Halvor threw an obscene gesture your way. 

The dog in question, black as night with shining silver-blue eyes, stretched and nuzzled into your outstretched hand as you reached your front door, Eris following closely behind. 

“Will you be long?” Halvor called out to Eris, raising his eyebrows suggestively with his hyena grin. 

“Go home if you’re so impatient. I can make it back on my own.”

“I’ll wait til noon.” If Eris was finished by then, it would mean they took care of business… if Eris wasn’t finished by then, it would mean they were taking care of other business, business Halvor would do no good sticking around for. He snorted at the thought, then lost himself in imagining the other females he might be able to seduce back at the Forest House.

You both passed through the enchantments woven into the wood of your home, feeling a rush of power pour over you like water over stone. 

Eris snapped his fingers and the candles you’d placed on your dining table and mantle burst to life, fluttering about like dancers. The fireplace followed suit, sending a wave of warmth throughout the house. Firelight bounced off the rich velvet and creams that adorned your home - a cleaner mimic of the Autumn lands that existed behind the walls and flooded in through the open windows.

The Forest House was a place of luxury, massive enough that it would take you an entire morning just to walk from one end to another, and filled to the brim with treasures of gold, bronze, and enough precious jewels to sink a ship. It was a palace fit for a High Lord. But this was a home, so he took off his crown and hung up his cloak.

“What happened to him?” Eris said, kneeling on the ground and giving Bryaxis a well-deserved scratch behind the ears. The millennia-old creature closed his eyes in satisfaction. “The last time I saw him he was a cat.”

You chuckled, bustling about in the kitchen for a tea set that would match and piling pastries on a plate. The smell of browned butter and strawberry rhubarb jam waltzed in the air.

“He’s been experimenting with new forms.” You said, smugness and pride warming your chest. Not so long after Eris had freed you from the mountain and given you a new home, Bryaxis had found you, drawn to your power. Twin bargain tattoos snaked up from the bridges of your feet to your ankles like vines up a trellis - the first promised that you would do no harm to one another in exchange for dual protection, the second allowed you to take a portion of his power, giving him to opportunity to mold his being into a form that could experience the world in a more physical sense. 

Gone was the shapeless creature of shadow and nightmares. Enter Bryaxis the wolf-dog (and occasional housecat) who still radiated enough power to scare away any creature (wicked or otherwise) that dared to disturb the peace of their home. But he could curl up by the windows and watch the night sky uninhibited, and in his heart he was a creature of violence and simplicity in equal measure.

“I like this one better than the cat.” Eris said with a grin, for the monster had copied the shape of one of his prized hunting dogs. Bryaxis seemed to growl in appreciation when Eris straightened up.

He sighed in contentment, feeling the stress of his crown melt away when you wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of cedar, smoke, and cinnamon.

“Hello.” He murmured softly, turning in your arms and pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Hello.” You whispered, brushing your lips against his with a sigh, “I missed you. Where have you been all this time?” The finished reports on your desk, much like your empty bed, had been waiting patiently for Eris’s next visit.

He hesitated, pulling away to look at you. He brushed aside a few stray strands of hair that had fallen out of your braid. “The Night Court.”

You stiffened, “Keir?” 

He shook his head, frowning, “Rhysand.” 

You blinked, and he saw darkness pass through your eyes. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.” 

Twelve years. 

You’d been Beron’s prisoner for decades before. Then you’d escaped and managed a couple of years of peace. You’d found a home and a family… or so you thought. And then twelve years ago you’d been betrayed - handed back to the now deceased High Lord on a silver platter and trapped beneath the mountain for four years. It made your blood boil to think about the people who helped put you there. 

“You’ve been dealing with them for years now,” You forced out in a diplomatic tone, “It’s good for you to have allies, especially strong ones like them.”

“Y/n-”

“You should've told me. I don’t want you to worry about my feelings when it comes to these things. Autumn comes first and-”

“I’ll always worry about you.” Eris said, tilting your chin up and catching the moisture gathering in your eyes that you’d furiously tried to blink away, “And there’s no choice between you and my Court. You belong here. To protect Autumn - to protect you - are the same thing, my love.” 

Your cheeks burned at the careful way he spoke, the sincerity in his voice he reserved solely for you in moments like this.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Y/n. I promise it won't happen again."

Fury burned in his stomach, a continuation of the anger that had steadily been eating away at his patience during his visit to the Night Court. To see the Inner Circle look so safe and happy in the bubble they’d carved for themselves in Velaris, naive to the pain and suffering they’d caused you, had made him want to burn The House of Wind to the ground. Alliance be damned. 

He hated them nearly as much as he had hated his own father. 

“I don’t want to think about them.” You declared, setting your jaw and smoothing away the lines of anger that had formed on Eris’s forehead, “To hell with them.” 

Eris smirked, loving the determination that settled in your eyes as you dragged him over to the living room and finished setting up the tea that had started to whistle on the stovetop. You would carve out a space for yourself in this world and be happy, even if it killed you.

“To hell with them.” He repeated.

Business and pleasure. The two were impossible for him to separate, which is why he cherished time spent with you. The pair of you spoke easily together, seamlessly transitioning from discussions of grain reports, treaties, and trade deals to banter about the Harvest Festival and the latest court gossip. Halvor was long gone, and Bryaxis off hunting, when the talking ceased and Eris found himself comfortably spread out on your velvet couch, shirt unbuttoned, and head resting in your lap as you wove your fingers through his hair.

He opened his eyes, lazy and slow, and quietly took in your features - the slope of your nose, the gentle curves of your cheeks and lips as you smiled at him, the contentment in your eyes that shifted into deep thought. 

He waited for you to share them with him.

“I’ve been thinking about your proposal.” You said carefully and he froze beneath your hands.

“You-you have?” Eris swallowed and sat up, keeping his distance even as he dared to hope. You’d both been keeping your relationship secret, visiting each other under the guise of court business and court business only. It had certainly started out that way, but things had quickly shifted into something far more intimate and worthy of secrecy… Then Eris had asked if it could stop being so secret.

You nodded, searching his face for something more than the neutral mask every High Lord learned to master. 

You moved onto his lap, laying your hands on the sides of his face as his eyes widened ever so slightly, “My answer is yes.” 

“Yes?” He asked in disbelief. 

Yes to living with him. Yes to going to court with him. Yes to showing the world that he was not alone in his duty. Yes to being by his side wherever either of you went.

No more hiding in this house on the outskirts. No more being afraid of what had happened in the past. No more loneliness.

“Yes.” 

He shuddered under your touch and suddenly he was everywhere. His hands roamed the expanse of your back, pulling at the fabric of your bodice. Red locks as vivid as flame got knotted beneath your fingers, and his body pressed flush against yours, desperate for any contact as his chest continued to shake with laughter. 

You stayed with him on that couch, neither of you wanting to bother with the effort of walking the extra twenty steps to your bedroom, as articles of clothing were hastily torn off and allowed to float onto the floor in crumples of fabric.

A growl from just outside your front door, low and gravelly enough to shake the ground, woke the two of you up. The sun was kissing the horizon on its way down, lateral rays of light streaming through the window and splashing onto the bookshelves and walls like gold paint. Eris groaned with displeasure, pulling you flush against his chest when you dared to draw yourself up on your arms to look at the door. 

You giggled against him, pulling a rare smile from his lips when he felt your laughter. 

He was all warmth and color beneath you as you shouted at Bryaxis to give you more time alone. He could practically hear the rolling of eyes with the huff that Bryaxis gave out. But he eventually trotted away to find a patch of soft grass from which to watch the sun set.

“It’s good to know a murderous beast like him still has a sense of humor.” Eris quipped, practically humming with pleasure when you melted into him. “You would know. You can be funny sometimes.” 

“Sometimes?!”

“Sometimes!” 

“You must give me more credit than that.”

“I will not.”

“You must. Your High Lord demands it.” Eris said, puffing out his chest and deepening his voice.

“Your High Lord demands it.” You parroted in a silly voice that made Eris chuckle and kiss you again.

You laid in the silence for as long as you could, until the sun was once again buried in the ground and the calls of the Forest House could not be ignored. With every piece of clothing Eris pulled back on his body, the vulnerable joy that came from being with you seemed to dim. 

Was he a lovesick fool for asking you to come to court and be with him? Was the protection of a High Lord worth the dangers that came with it? Lucien had been the first of their brothers to fall in love and he had paid for it dearly. Sometimes Eris had nightmares that you would suffer the same fate.

Eris watched you as you laced up your bodice with quick fingers, fixed your hair, and smoothed your skirts. You looked heavenly in the light of the fire. You were everything he could have dreamed of and more… because you were real… and you loved him as fiercely as he loved you. Which meant he could lose you.

“Y/n.” He whispered your name like a prayer, drawing your attention. You drew close to him, pressing your forehead against his as he took a deep breath, “What you’re agreeing to… you know what it will mean, don’t you?”

You closed your eyes and nodded. This was no light decision and it was why you’d taken three months to come up with an answer for him. 

“It will mean people will come for me, and never stop coming for me, just to hurt you and to hurt this Court.” Eris flinched, but you wouldn’t let him open his mouth to dissuade you. You’d given this much thought, and your decision was made.

“It will mean constant scrutiny from the other Lords and Ladies. A life spent in a house known for its history of cruelty and disloyalty. A life that will never fully be my own.”

Eris was beginning to think he’d truly made a terrible mistake in asking you to be with him. But before that cold mask of his could fall over his features, you grasped his face in yours hands and forced him to look at you.

“But it will also mean a chance to be with you. A chance to lead alongside the first person to give me a real home - a real family. A chance to continue to build and protect what I love. I love you, Eris, and I love Autumn, and I’ll be damned if I don’t protect what I love.”

Eris clenched his teeth, holding back the emotion that threatened to spill out like a ruptured damn.

“I won’t be like this at the Forest House.” He said, hating the truth of the words that fell off his tongue, “I won’t be able to show who I truly am when I’m around others, at least not for now. They’ll call you foolish, or cruel, or wicked for being with me. I can’t promise you an established and worthy court. I-”

“Then we’ll build it ourselves.” You said fiercely, pouring your power into the words, “We’ll build a new court, a new life for ourselves and everyone here. I know you’ll do everything you can to fix things, even if it breaks you.” You whispered the next words reverently against his lips, “Let me help you. Let me do it with you.” 

Eris let the tears run rivers down his cheeks, even as he set his jaw, and stared resolutely into your eyes.

“Let’s do it then. Together.”

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______

Author's note:

*shouts from the mountaintops* I just want Eris to be happy! And I want him to have someone he trusts that can rule alongside him!

That's it. That's the note. Oh and let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters.

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy

[gamma-rae-bursts]

Courtroom Obsession pt.1

y/n is an ADA assigned to Special Victims Unit. She’s been dating Olivia Benson for the past couple of months and despite their crazy workload things have been going great between them. This is until y/n’s office is flooded with mystery flower deliveries that don’t seem to stop.

Pairing: Olivia Benson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: y/n has a stalker, it's mild in this one tho, lil makeout sesh.

Genre: Mostly Fluff, will lead to angst.

Word Count: 1400+

A/N: Would you look at that, I finally wrote something! This is a part 1 of what will probably be a 2/3 part mini series. Covers a square of my bingo.

It started with flowers. You didn’t think much of it, after all being an attorney meant that sometimes you would receive gifts from grateful families for getting a conviction. But the flowers kept coming throughout the week, all kinds of bouquets bound together with ribbons, sometimes even placed in white twined baskets, with no notes attached. You looked at the colourful petals displayed in your office, the white lilies perfectly complimenting the vibrant colours of tulips and irises. The types of flowers varied in each of the bouquets, but it was never roses. You hated roses. 

After a few days you started thinking it was your girlfriends doing, who else would have known this small rose-hating side of you. 

When you finished work on a Friday evening, you headed straight to Olivia’s apartment, hopeful to finally get a free weekend after closing multiple cases during the previous week. Considering the field both of you were working in and the recent increase in cases you’ve barely seen each other outside of the precinct for the past couple of weeks. You’ve only been dating for a few months, although things were official between the two of you, you opted to keep the relationship private from work. You aimed for your professional relationship to remain unchanged and as far as you were aware it was working. After all the last thing either of you have wanted was to become the centre of attention of the 16th precinct and 1 Hogan Place. 

The uber ride, although long, was very peaceful. You looked out the window at the streets of New York City that were beginning to fill with the darkness of dusk, taking in the sight of people rushing down the streets, probably hurrying to their homes before the city was consumed by darkness. After what felt like eternity you finally arrived at your destination, thanking the driver and handing him the cash, with a few extra notes as a thank you for not bothering you too much during the ride. 

You used the key Olivia gave you just a few weeks earlier to open the apartment door, just as you entered the space you smelled the array of scents of what you presumed to be Olivia’s cooking, wafting through the air, filling the space with warmth. You smiled to yourself while taking your shoes off, before following the aromas deeper into the apartment.

Olivia was standing in the kitchen, fully consumed by preparing on of your shared comfort meals and as it turned out, one of her specialties. You always begged her to teach you how to make the signature mac and cheese, but she always joked that if she let you in on the secret you wouldn’t need her anymore, hence keeping the recipe hidden away from you.

 You took in the sight of her, she was wearing a checked apron on top of her comfy clothes, her hair was in a half-up-half-down style, with a little bun on top back of her head. The domesticity of it almost melting your heart.

“You’re staring, again.” she said softly as she turned around to face you, with a warm smile on her face.

“I can’t help it; you just look really cute.” you laughed, as you kept shamelessly staring at your girlfriend. 

“Here, try this.” the detective reached out to you with a forkful of the broccoli she roasted to go with the dish, always adamant to up your vegetable intake. 

 You gratefully accepted the food, opening your mouth and letting Olivia feed you. You practically moaned at the tease of the perfectly roasted broccoli, making her smile. “This is so good.” you added when you finished chewing the food.

“I’m glad you like it my love” she whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead before getting back to cooking. 

You watched Olivia gracefully move around the kitchen for a little longer, before wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your head on the back of her shoulder. She hummed and gently leaned into your embrace, happy to finally get to spend some time with you and you had no plans on letting her go now. 

The two of you stayed like this for a while, Olivia effortlessly finishing grating the additional cheese and you only restricting her movements a little bit.

“You can stop hugging me now, you know?” she laughed while you only tightened the grip you had around her.

“No, I don’t think I can” you giggled and placed a kiss in the crook of her neck. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too sweet girl.” She turned around in your arms to face you, cupping your cheek she placed a soft kiss on your lips. One of your hands moved from her waist to the back of her head deepening the kiss. Her lips moved against yours in perfect harmony, you pulled her closer to you, desperate for the contact as she traced your bottom lip with her tongue, making you smile into the kiss. She reluctantly pulled away “If you keep this up the dinner is gonna get burned”  

You giggled and placed one last peck on her lips. “You know I wouldn’t mind, I’m sure it would still be better than that disaster of a carbonara I made before”

“It wasn’t that bad” she laughed before getting back to the task she was occupied with before you successfully distracted her.

“Oh really? How about I make it again this weekend then?” you asked raising your brow at the detective. The carbonara was indeed that bad and both of you were fully aware of it.

“Okay maybe I’ll stay on the food duty for now, but you can watch!” you laughed at her statement, happy with the offer as you didn’t want to risk poisoning your girlfriend with your cooking.

You moved around the kitchen in silence, while Olivia continued working on finishing the meal, when everything was either fully out of the oven or with only a few more minutes left to go you finally broke the silence in the room.

“Thank you for the flowers by the way.” you whispered looking at her, a warm smile spread across your face. “they’re beautiful.”

“What flowers?” she questioned, not having a clue what you were referring to.

“The ones that were coming into my office the whole week?” you raised your brow, now also confused. “I assumed they were from you since there was no notes and none of the bouquets had roses in them.”

“No, they weren’t from me but now I wish they were.” she looked at you, a slight glimpse of worry in her eyes. “Is there someone I should be concerned about?”

“If by that you mean whether there is some rookie detective or ADA waving their eyelashes at me then absolutely not” you assured her, brushing her through her hair with the tips of your fingers. “I’m sure they were from the families from previous cases, you know they like to show their appreciation for getting the perps convicted.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” she said letting out a deep sigh.

“Hey, no need to get worried.” you gently cupped her cheek as you looked into her eyes. “I’m a big girl I can take care of myself.”

“I know you are.” she ducked her head down a little “But you are also my girl, so I am going to get worried regardless.” Her hand softly rubbed your back as she burried her face in the crook of your neck.

The rest of the evening as well as the following days passed and before you knew it you were getting ready to return to the office on a Monday morning. You and Olivia slept in that day so both of you hurried to get ready and rushed out of the apartment, taking your respective rides to your workplaces.

When you entered your office, a white basket filled with tulips, lilies and dahlias as well as small strands of forget me nots was nestled in the middle of your desk. You examined your surroundings before examining the basket itself. It looked like every other one you received the previous week, although this time it came with a small envelope attached to it. You opened it, finding a rather simple card inside, with a handwritten note. 

“Can’t wait to see you again, V.”

***

Taglist: @bratty-subby-girly @ashbones

Join my taglist here, or DM me to be added <3

[osleeplessflowero]

hi! If it's ok can you do a Reaper sans x reader with fluff and in it they are dating and Reaper can touch the reader and their soul trait would be kindness

hii! an opportunity to use reaper..this'll be fun! thank you for your request Anon! 🌸

💚Flirting With Death🖤

Reaper comes to a stop once he re-enters the mortal realm once more, relieved that no one is aware that he's awake at the moment.. Although he may be the God of Death..he doesn't really feel like killing anybody. No, he'd much rather do literally anything else.

His eyes dart around until he perks up at the sight of a familiar face taking a walk down a path and letting a butterfly rest on their finger. He'd know them anywhere.

A strange figure that appeared in his world out of no where..an unexplained event. They don't know much of their origin themself, but..they're content, living in this world. And he's grown so very fascinated with them.. Someone who managed to slip their way into his guarded heart.

Floating over you, a sly cheshire-like grin stretches onto his face as he grabs your shoulders, spooking you. You jolt as you turn around, furrowing your brows as he lets out an amused chuckle.

"Not funny!" You cross your arms as more butterflies seem to make their way to you, resting on your head. "Quit doing that."

"i saw an opportunity, and i took it. anyway..movin' on from that, how are you today?" He leans down upside down. "haven't seen you in a while..guess we both got too busy."

"Come down here before I answer." You gesture, earning an amused chuckle. "alright then." He floats back upright, before landing on the ground.

The butterflies spread out, flying in varying directions, avoiding the God of Death so they wouldn't meet an early demise. He stands before you, using his magic to put away his scythe, leaving himself open.

"Much better..I like being on equal terms." You smile, holding a small basket in front of you. "I've mostly just been hanging out here..taking walks and stuff. Oh yeah, I've been making a bunch of paper crafts- y'know, like origami? It's pretty fun. ..When I'm not getting lectured for leaving a bunch of paper rabbits out." You mutter that last part, earning a chuckle from him.

"oh my stars, that's so..you." He grins, watching you as you begin walking and following without hesitation. "Creativity is both my blessing and my curse." You smile sheepishly, guiding him along a grass-covered path. He occasionally floats so he doesn't kill any flowers beneath him, listening carefully as you talk about this and that.

"What about you?" You turn to him, snapping him out of a trance of sorts. "oh, well..y'know. your typical scenarios. death, death, more death. this job's killing me." "How is it, up there?" "well..just do my job, talk to who i'm 'sposed to, and do daily tasks. pretty simple." "..You must be pretty lonely up there.."

He turns to you.

"I mean-" "it was pretty lonely, without you there. ..things don't feel the same up there, compared to when i'm with you. tends to happen, heh."

You gently hold out your hand, offering for him to take it. He looks between you and your hand for a moment, gently taking it and intertwining his fingers with yours. Wow, is that a strange sensation.. he's gotta learn to get used to all of this touching. Especially since you're so openly affectionate..

"Well..at least we're here together now, right? We've got plenty of time." You smile warmly at him. His cheekbones flush a light shade of blue..there you go again, tugging on his heartstrings. "..i guess you're right."

You continue leading him along like he's a lost puppy, taking a deep breath as the sun hits your face from above. It's always good to savor it while it lasts..and considering it's going to set soon, that time's limited.

"Now that you're back I wanna spend as much time with you as possible..don't get too sick of me, okay?" "that's what i'm supposed to say to you." "Yeah, right. I could never be sick of you."

He averts his eyes, hiding the bottom of his face within his hood as his face flushes even more.

You smile, stopping and turning to him as another breeze blows through, gently swaying your clothing to the side.

"i haven't..felt like this before, with anybody." He raises a hand, placing it on his warm cheekbone. "it's all so..new.."

"Can I touch your face?" You ask politely, and he nods, appreciating that. You lift a hand, gently touching his cheekbone and letting him lean into it. "..It's new for both of us, really. ..We've got each other, every step of the way, right?"

"yeah.." He smiles, putting his hand over yours. "i don't mind being touched by you. it's something i could get used to." "..You always have such..uncertainty, when you hold my hand. Why's that?" "i guess.. a part of me's scared that my...effect will work on you one day." His eyesockets narrow as he grimaces. "the idea of losing you is.."

You gently hold your hand up so he can see before you put it on his other cheek, turning him so he'll face you properly.

"Sans." You mutter his name, his true name, leaving him breathless. "I doubt that'd ever happen..I'm too stubborn to go anywhere. No matter what, I will always be with you somehow..even when you're up there with the fun police."

He snickers, moving his hand over to touch your hair before it slides to your cheek. Now it's your turn to lean..savoring his gentle touches. He treats you as if you're the most fragile thing in the world..one wrong move, and you could shatter into pieces. But at the same time, you're very sturdy.. you can handle yourself just fine. He knows that.

"You can touch me as much as you'd like to. I don't mind at all."

His face burns. "forward, much?" "Yeah. But I mean it." You smile. "If you'd like me to, I'll give you as much physical affection as you want." "..yeah?" "Yeah." "how so?"

"Well..may I?" You lean a little closer. "of course."

You then proceed to pepper his skull with kisses, getting a few laughs out of him since he's ticklish. Oh, would you use that to your advantage later-

"Mmmwah! There. There'll be plenty more where that came from." You smile smugly, watching as he slowly reopens his eyes, turning to you and..matching your expression? Oh. Oh no.

He gently grabs your wrists, pulling you just a liiittle closer.

"you're not getting away that easily. it's my turn."

Oh heavens.

[dycefic]

Isekai

The story this world was created for didn’t pan out, but I still love it. So I sent a visitor from our world to this one, who is not delighted to find that instead of a clear conflict between good and evil, she is confronted with something very different.

#

The priest led the way into the great hall. “It is strange to me,” he said chattily, “that you do not know the gods. Surely there is no place so far that the gods do not hold sway there.”

The stranger cleared her throat. “I do not… know that I do not,” she said carefully. “By other names, or seemings, perhaps… but I would know them as you know them.”

“Ah, I see. Yes, that I can understand.” The priest smiled. With his long grey hair and beard flowing over a white robe, he looked like a small, spare saint himself, genial and contented. “Then I will tell it to you from the beginning.” He walked up the length of the hall, and gestured to the two statues that stood on either side of the great altar, with the gold-leaf sun and hammered silver moon on the wall above it.

“There are eight gods,” he said, and his voice settled into the cadence of one repeating an old teaching. “And no one of the eight stands alone, but always as one of a pair. First among the gods stand Elu and Surm, whose aspects are those of Life and Death. There are those who say that they are the parents of the other gods, and others who say that they are only the oldest, but all that the others are springs ultimately from them.”

“I see.” The stranger looked up at the statue on the left, who stood by the golden sun. “Elu… life… is perhaps the one I know as the Mother.”

“Yes, for all life comes from a mother.” The priest nodded, also gazing up at the statue. It was beautifully crafted, perhaps twice as tall as the stranger, a vivid portrayal of a woman of middle years, with the rounded belly and hips of children borne, the plump limbs of health and plenty, lines of wisdom and of humour on her face. She wore a loose robe, and a crown of leaves and flowers on her long hair, and fruit and grain filled the basket in her hands. “Elu brings life, and all that lives, from the greatest beast to the smallest, from the richest fruit to the smallest seed, from humankind to a flower that blooms and dies in a single day.”

He turned to the other statue, Surm. This was a man, also of middle years, but he wore armour, and carried a bow in his hand. “And Surm, her opposite and equal, who closes the circle. Where there is life, there must also be death, and Surm rules over all forms of death. He is a warrior, and a hunter, and also a healer, as is Elu, for the healer stands between life and death. Surm is the ending, as Elu is the beginning, but in truth they are the two halves of a circle, for from death life comes again, and from life death is born.” He gestured up at the sun and moon. “Elu is the first of what we name the sunward four, and Surm of the moonward, for the sun and the moon, like the gods, are a pair, opposite and yet united.”

“I see. Who comes next?”

“Of the other three pairs, the order in which they stand varies. They are all of equal status and importance, as gods, but in different times and places some may take a greater hand than others.” The priest moved back a few paces. “Here, the second pair are those we call Kord, the sunward, who represents order and creation, and Kaos, the moonward, who represents chaos and destruction.”

The stranger looked from Kord, a statue of a man holding a chisel and a measuring rod, his robes perfect, his braids as straight as the rod, to Kaos, a woman all disorder, from her wild curls to her ragged motley to her very pose – while Kord stood erect, Kaos was dancing, one foot raised, ribbons flying about her. “Good and evil?” the stranger asked, frowning.

“No, order and chaos.” The priest frowned too. “All the gods have their aspects of both good and evil, of course. Elu creates life, and she is the mother of the devouring wolf or bear just as she is of the lamb or the kid. Surm brings death on the battlefield, but also peace after long life and ease after suffering. Kord is the god of order, of precision, of law and of rule, of measurement and of numbers. But Kord is a sterile god, and life does not thrive under his governance.” He turned to wild, laughing Kaos. “Kaos reigns over destruction, it is true, but not all forms of disorder are destructive. She is the song of the bird and the frisking of a foal as well as the destruction of the earthquake or the tidal wave, and she rules over weather both good and bad. She also rules the human heart, its loves and hates, and she brings both joy and sorrow.”

“I see.” The stranger did not sound as if she saw, but she looked thoughtfully at Kord and Kaos before they moved on to the next pair.

“On the sunward side, Sugulahna, the neighbour, the kinswoman, the ally, the friend, the loyal one.” This statue was young and vigorous, with a cheerful smile. She wore a simple tunic, and held out an open hand. “Sugulahna is the goddess of unity, of trust, of loyalty. When she stands with her brother Kord, they watch over cities and towns, and places where many people must live together in order and harmony. With Kaos, she signifies love and friendship, the ties of family and the bonds of loyalty. In her benign aspect, she is generosity and faith. But turned aside, she is the selfish partner, the treacherous lover, the ungrateful child, the usurper and betrayer. She is all that is best and worst in those around us.”

“One who can give great pain and great joy,” the stranger commented.

“None can give greater.” The priest nodded solemnly. “And on the moonward side stands Vu’uras, who is often called ‘the Stranger’.” The statue could hardly be called a statue, exactly, for no face or clear form could be discerned under the enveloping robes that might as easily have covered a clothing-stand as a human figure. The only sign of the body underneath was a single slender hand extending from a sleeve to clasp a traveller’s staff. “The Stranger is the Other, the traveller, the foreigner. The Stranger, when standing with Kord, is the diplomat, the envoy, the spy. With Kaos, the chance-met helper or kindly passer-by… or the bandit. The Stranger is sexless and unknowable, and yet the Stranger delights in the sharing of knowledge.”

The stranger smiled slightly. “Like me. A stranger chance-come, who knows nothing but wishes to learn?”

“Indeed, just like.” The priest moved on to the last pair of statues. “Here you see, on the sunward side, Teadmised, who is the god of knowledge and learning. Teachers, scholars, and the wise are all in his domain, and he is said to have created all means of record-keeping, from wall paintings and lore songs and tally marks to the written word.” He beamed up at the statue. Like the priest, Teadmised was an old man, long-bearded and a little stooped, with a lean, kindly face. He was wrapped in a long robe with a stole, and carried in his hands a scroll and a brush. “Teadmised is the god of wisdom. His benign aspect brings invention, and art, and joy, but his reverse is deception, and error, and lies.”

He turned to gesture at the moonward goddess. “This is his sister Salahdused, who rules over mystery, and secrets, and the unknown. Vu’uras and Surm’s realms both overlap with hers, for death and the stranger both partake of the unknown. Salahdused is the hardest of all the gods to understand, by her very nature, and thus is most often the one distrusted, or considered ‘evil’ as you put it.” He patted the base of the statue. It portrayed another hooded figure, but unlike the Stranger’s, this hood did not conceal a slyly smiling face, and the sleeves of the robe fell back to show slender arms, one hand raising a lighted lamp, the other cradling a wrapped bundle against her hip. “Certainly the unknown can be dangerous, and secrets can wound. Her domain is darkness and the sea, hidden caves and deep water and secret places, all dangerous to humankind. And yet she is also the goddess of luck, which is its own kind of mystery. She can bring ruin and betrayal and death, but she is also the unknown friend, good fortune unlooked for, and aid when all hope is lost.” His voice softened. “It is Salahdused who brings misfortune, and hope, and to whom we all turn at last, with curse or with plea. And when her father Surm comes, to guide the dead onward, it is Salahdused who holds up the lamp to light the way.”

“A goddess we all need, though we may not always be grateful.” The stranger looked up and down the lines again. “They are *all* the known and the unknown, are they not? On the sunward side, in the light of day, stand Life, Order, Family and Knowledge. On the moonward side, Death, Chaos, the Stranger, and Mystery.”

“Yes, exactly!” The priest sounded pleased. “Not many people see that, without being told. That is why they are ordered so. Some people think it is because the sunward are kindlier, but it is not so. It is only that they stand for what we understand. And under the moon, which waxes and wanes, stand the gods who rule over the unpredictable and unknown.”

“Most people… where I come from… equate light with good, and darkness with evil.” The stranger tugged absently on her braid. “But your gods are… more complicated than that.”

“Good and evil are not real things,” the priest said simply. The stranger looked at him, and he smiled gently. “I do not mean that they do not exist, but they are not… of the world. Birth, life, is real. Death is real. They exist, they have substance. A measuring rod or the wildly rolling debris of an avalanche are real. Family is real. Strangers are real. A story or a written word are real things, as are the sea and caves and deep water, be they understood or not. And all of those things may bring about good or evil, depending on circumstances. They can be used for good or evil. But good and evil are not, in themselves, real things.”

She nodded slowly, looking at the gods. “So to you… good and evil are in the effects. The aspects. The intent. Not… powers, in themselves.”

“Yes, you understand.” The Priest bent to pick up a dead leaf from the ground, which might have fallen from a shawl, or blown in through one of the high windows. “Take this leaf. If it fell on a stony street, it might grow wet, and slip under a foot, and cause injury or death. If it fell on barren ground, in its decay it would render the ground a little less barren. Here on the floor of the temple, it might cause additional trouble to a sweeper… or provide a priest with a timely example, thus doing me, and you, good.” He smiled. “But the leaf’s nature does not change. It is just a leaf. How, in its falling, it affects others… that depends entirely on circumstance.”

“I see.” This time, she sounded as if she did understand, and she took the leaf and held it gently. “And what of people, priest? Are they not good or evil?”

“Of course they are. Mostly one, or mostly the other, or more often a mixture of both in some degree.” The priest shrugged. “But that a matter of choice, and of intention, and even then it is very rare that an action does not have effects both good and bad, whatever the intention. To come upon a man robbing another man, and to intervene – well, from the point of view of the man who was being robbed, that is a good action. From the point of view of the robber, it is a bad one.” He smiled serenely. “As the proverb says, the storm that sinks a ship may bring rain to the fields.”

The stranger was silent for a time, seeming to consider, and the priest waited patiently. When at last she spoke, there was a note of frustration in her voice. “I have never known a faith, or gods, so adamantly to set their faces against certainty.”

The priest laughed. “Oh, if it is certainty you want, Kord is in accord with you. He loves certainty. One will always be one, and a square will always be a square. An arch correctly made will not fall, and a law followed will bring order. There’s great comfort in certainty! But certainty is the enemy of growth, and invention, and change, and so Kaos dances through Kord’s order, bringing destruction and growth and change.” He folded his hands over his belly and looked up at the sun and moon on the wall, his voice gentling. “I think that what you are seeking is not certainty but simplicity. An easy answer. The good and the evil. But what is real is never simple, and the gods least of all. All we mere mortals can do is the best we can, with what we have.”

The stranger sighed. “I know that you are right,” she said. “But the other would be easier.”

“It is not the responsibility of the gods to make your life easy,” the priest said, a little tartly. “It is the responsibility of the gods to make life possible. The rest is your own affair.”

[janitorhutcherson]

hi! can you do a fluff piece with Mike where he expresses his love to the reader through the different love languages? (like words of affirmation, gift giving, physical touch, acts of kindness, and quality time?) I feel like he would be especially great at acts of kindness with cooking :) thanks!

hii omg this is such a cute idea. this is gonna be quickish i’m sorry, i’ll totally do a longer one later. if y’all like it i’ll maybe make a series?!? but for now just a silly little blurb.

i feel like mike would be very loving and showing his love to you would be extremely important. like, extremely important. so he’d def be the kind of guy to take all of these seriously, even if they weren’t… easy… for him since expressing emotions doesn’t come as natural.

words of affirmation: words of affirmation is one of my favorite love languages. this is one that doesn’t come easy for mike — and not because he doesn’t love you, but just because he can’t really express himself well. if you’re like me, being reassured, told you’re doing great, etc, is important to you. mike would do his very best to remind you every day how important you are to him, leaving the occasional note in the morning before you head to work. it may say something like, “Reminder I am so proud of you for everything you do. I love you, baby!” he’s also ramble to you at night sometimes, just telling you how much he loves you. if you were ever down, he’d make sure to sit you down and point out all of the things he loves about you, physically and mentally.

gift giving: okay i feel like this is a big one. money doesn’t come very easily for mike. after he got “fired” (that’s what he pretends happened!😜), he had to find another job that still had shitty pay. his resume didn’t make him a great candidate for anything high quality. with that being said, every month he attempts to scrape up enough money to make you a little gift basket. it varies from month to month, depending on how much he was able to save. sometimes they’d be big baskets he’d have abby help him pick stuff out for. there may be a fuzzy blanket, some candies, face masks, maybe a candle. sometimes they’d be smaller, just a little note and some candy, maybe a stuffed animal from the dollar store. regardless of how big or small, you always appreciated it when you’d walk into your shared home and see it sitting on the table.

physical touch: oh my god i think this one is a huge one for mike. given his past, he is so touch starved. every second he gets, his hands are on you. of course, at night he loves to curl up with you in bed. he’ll have his arms tightly wrapped around you, playing with your hair or maybe rubbing your back. even when he dips down on the bed to tie his shoes in the morning, he keeps his hand on your sleeping shoulder until he absolutely has to move it. he’s the same way out in public. at the supermarket, he’ll hold your hand, he’ll wrap his arm around your waist when you’re standing in line for something. when you’re out to eat, his hand will be on your knee underneath the table. when you’re cooking at home, he will always come and wrap himself up behind you, moving with you to the point that it’s slightly obnoxious, but you don’t mind. as long as he’s with you.

acts of kindness: i so agree that this would be a big one for him that he’d be good at. before you, mike was a one trick pony when it came to cooking, and for that, he could barely do it. he could make something that was edible enough to be spaghetti. once you two started dating, he learned for you. he wanted to be able to make your favorite dishes and desserts. he surprises you all the time when he’s off of work or if he gets off before you, making your favorite dish and having it served up on the table with candles when you walk in the door after work. he’s also big on doing things like running you baths, putting the bubbles in and the epsom salts in. sometimes he’d get into it with you, holding you. i also think he’d like to take showers with you. if you struggle with mental health at all, i think he’d be the type of partner to help you wash your hair. of course he’d do chores for you sometimes, knocking out necessary errands. overall he’s a very loving partner who will do anything to make you smile.

quality time: quality time is something that isn’t easy to get. as much as you love abby, alone time is especially hard to come by. since mike is working day shifts now, you two will do your best to have a late night together at least once a week. you’re both usually pretty exhausted, taking care of abby, working, running errands. but once a week, usually on a friday night, you both stay up until 3am/4am, just talking, snacking, maybe watching a movie. otherwise, for quality time, he makes sure to sneak some time in with you here in there. he’d make sure to run simple errands with you, maybe even to sit with you at the nail salon. i also think he’d love to help you cook, go shopping. any chance he’d get to spend time with you, he’d take it.

[abibliophobiaa]

chocolate

eddie munson x g/n reader.

“you’re going to give yourself cavities.”

he’s on the couch when you enter. hair tied back in a loose ponytail, wearing his favorite pair of gray sweats that always cling to his thighs in the most perfect way. stretched across his chest is a dark, long sleeve shirt, the slightest sliver of skin peeking out from the bottom.

all across his lap are the evidence of his latest indulgences. countless wrappers with varying labels strewn about, another chocolate treat inches away from his mouth as he waves to you where you stand near the living room.

with a laugh, you unzip your jacket and toss it down onto the dining table, shoes already left by the door. your keys fall in a clatter against the wooden table.

“it’ll be worth it,” he mutters, mouth closing around his reece’s.

“should i be aware of any raids that may have happened in the neighborhood? particularly taking place at any local grocery stores?” you gesture to the endless wrappers, and the foil he crumples up in his palm to join the others.

“a heist, really,” he chuckles, cupping a hand around your thigh when you settle down beside him, wrappers crinkling beneath the weight.

“i can see it now: the great candy heist of eighty nine,” you tease, waving a hand over his bountiful — albeit sugary — feast. “what is all of this?”

“there was a sale on valentine’s day candy, so naturally i couldn’t let it slip by.”

he’s halfway to unwrapping another as you pluck a wrapper from beneath your thigh, the remnants of a chocolate bar staining your pants. “didn’t i get you enough candy for valentine’s day?”

you’d gone all out. put together a basket of all his favorites. it had been worth it, hunting them all down, if only to savor that smile which lit up his face that evening.

“well…yeah,” he mutters sheepishly, “but i ate it all, and when i saw the fifty percent off signs i…had to, you know?”

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you laugh, leaning over to grab at a hershey’s kiss resting on his thigh. before you can grab it, he snatches the candy from where it’s sitting. “hey! i wanted a kiss.”

“shoulda said so,” he murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to yours. it’s sugary and sweet with a caramel undertone. like eddie. like home. “how’s that?”

he leans back, dimple popping in his cheek in a bright smile. a sigh spills from you, pleased, heart thrumming wildly in your chest. “the best.”

[molagboop]

Chozo bedtime headcanons!

Chozo sleep standing up. Most of the beds pictured above are upright cradle frames made from wood, metal, or synthetic material.

Fidgety folks can opt to have half-circle style metal or wood latches installed to lock over the frame while they sleep, preventing them from falling forwards out of bed. They're also useful for keeping known sleepwalkers from leaving the room while at rest, reducing their risk of head injury.

A fancy Mawkin cradle style bedframe. Cradle style frames are concave, like a little sleeping pod.

Beds for babies are nest-shaped, padded with pillows and quilts. They can be woven like a basket or fabricated from slightly less pliable material. Nests for newborn babies can be small enough to hang on their parents' bedframes.

Sketch dump featuring pillows, nest shapes, a parent with their hatchling sleeping next to them, and adult-sized beds with varying degrees of slant. Some Chozo prefer to sleep at an angle.

[greeenchrysanthemums]

Thus Always to Tyrants

Chapter 1: The Start of the Fall

Gem is the commander of the Wintertide royal army, Grian is the leader of a resistance hell bent on taking the crown down no matter the cost. It was only natural that they would become enemies.

Chapter 1 (you are here) -> Chapter 2

Read on ao3 ❀ here ❀

CW: past/mentioned war, non-graphic violence.

Words: 6,493

Pov: Gem

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

The tip of Gem’s sword punctured the dummy’s chest, right through the center of the worn out fabric X sewn into its burlap surface. She planted her foot right under where the blade was buried and kicked it away with enough force to send it crashing to the ground, freeing her sword in the process. The dummy rolled away from her,  it’s sewn on face frowning up at her sadly in an almost comedic way as it went. She panted and stood up straight, rolling her shoulders to release some of the tension they had collected in the muscles. 

Her ears were met with a round of clapping, and she turned to smile at the group of young knights and squires who had gathered at the edge of the training grounds to observe her sword play. She gave an elegant, somewhat exaggerated, bow before turning to look up at the sky. She shielded her eyes from the shining rays as she checked the sun’s position. It was just about noon by this point, if not nearing it. She should be on her way, lest she be late.

“That will be all from me, I’m afraid. I’m in danger of receiving a verbal lashing from sir Impulse.” She joked to the trainees with an apologetic smile. 

“Do you really have to go?” One of the younger squires asked with big, pleading eyes. The others echoed the sentiment, all trying to convince her to stay and show them more.

“Unfortunately, yes, I do,” She said, “It’s a very important day today, as you all know, and my presence cannot be missed. Why don’t you lot work on what I just showed you until you are called to join us, and then you can show me your improvement another day. How does that sound?” There was a chorus of disappointed vocalisations, but they got back to their own work pretty quickly after a stern look was thrown their way.

She walked over to the fallen dummy and took a moment to stand it upright so that it was ready for the next person to use. She jogged over to where she had abandoned her water skin at the edge of the training ring, expertly tossing the practice sword she had borrowed into the designated barrel behind the dummies as she went. She took a few greedy gulps of sweet, crisp water before wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on her brow with the hem of her sleeve. Her clothes were damp with sweat and sticking to her skin, but where she was heading would be just as hot, if not more, so she was not worried about it. 

She really should not have let herself be roped into showing off to the younger knights and squires, but how could she not? She simply could not resist their charms; she had no choice but to say yes when they came to her on her way out to beg that she show them a few basic forms. They reminded her far too much of her younger self, she supposed. Bright eyed, full of admiration, and ready and eager to learn. There had been someone once in her life that was willing to give in to her pleas and show her everything they knew, she only thought it fair that she be the same kind of role model in these kids' lives. She would just die if she didn’t live up to their expectations. If that meant she ended up a little late every now and then? So be it.

She hooked the skin to her belt and bid the young ones an enthusiastic farewell, which they returned with varying degrees of equal cheerfulness and disappointment, and with that, she was off. She darted through the servant's entrance and into the kitchen, where she quickly snagged a bread roll out of a basket on one of the counters, giggling at the indigent shout of “Commander!” from one of the cooks as she did so. She waved goodbye to them, and they rolled their eyes at her, crossing their arms as she rounded the corner into the hall.

She made her way through the corridors with the bread roll secured safely in her bite, the loud clanking of her armor bouncing off of the high walls. As she ran, she took the opportunity to fix her bun, which had gotten rather messy during her little showing off session. She tucked loose strands back where they belonged and tightened the binding holding the bun and the braid together. It probably still looked a right mess, but at least it was a little more presentable. With her hair out of her face, she took a large bite out of the roll, groaning at the sweet, buttery taste of it.

She haphazardly shoved the rest of the roll into her mouth and chewed as fast as she could without choking. She licked the flakey crumbs from her fingers and wiped the rest of the mess off on the skirt of her dress. Not the most polite or proper, and her mama would definitely scold her for doing it, but she had not the time to worry about manners. She was going to be late; later than she probably already was.

She waved to the on duty guard at the main door and he yelled for her to have a good time just as she exited earshot. She lifted up the hem of her dress as she ran down the front steps, trying to avoid tripping over the expanse of fabric. She stumbled a little on the final step, pinwheeling her arms in order to steady herself before carrying on her way. 

She squinted against the sun in her eyes and slowed her pace to a light jog, a smile coming onto her face as she caught sight of her friends and the small group of guards waiting at the front gate for her. Impulse and Scott looked up as she skidded to a stop in front of them. She put her hands on her hips and bent slightly at the waist as she tried to catch her breath. 

“Worry not, I am here!” She proudly declared as she straightened her stance.

“Here, and late.” Scott said from where he was leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and one foot propped against the stone. His long hair was pulled over his shoulder into a braid, a stray stand of the blue locks falling into his amused face. Impulse beside him stood more casually with his thumbs tucked into the belt around his waist. The eldest man stifled a laugh at her expense.

“I will have you know that I am barely late. It is hardly even noon yet!” Gem defended with her hands still on her hips, turning her nose up at him in a playful manner.

“Late is late, Commander,” Scott laughed, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with delight at her defensiveness. Gem opened her mouth to continue the friendly argument, but was halted by Impulse’s hand’s clamping down on either of their shoulders.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you two. Let's be on our way before our absence is missed.” Impulse said. Despite being lower in rank than her, Impulse was the oldest out of them, and one of her best friends, so Gem took no offense when he gave her a light shove in the direction of the town.

Gem took the lead as they exited the front gates, bidding the guards up at the top of the tall wall a goodbye as she went. Truth be told, it really was not too much of an issue that they were heading out a little later than what they expected. She had long ago coordinated and dispatched another unit to go ahead of them early this morning. Not only that, but her presence was not something that was strictly required, it was a personal choice. Technically there was no way for them to be late to this event. Scott simply enjoyed pulling her leg, and she, his.

The journey to town didn’t take them very long - a journey that they could have made shorter had the capital not been too crowded to bring horses on a day like this -  and in the blink of an eye they were entering the crowded city. 

Stands and carts littered the usually empty streets, filled to the brim with rare goods and flooded by customers eager to get their hands on whatever was being offered. The decadent smell of cooking meats and spices filled her nose and caused her mouth to water, the faint hint of baked goods and perfumes lingering just under the surface. Lively music filled the air, as did laughter and conversation. Over the heads of many a passersby she could see a stage set up in the center of the city square, where a band was playing the jolly tune that could be heard. 

If one was to look even further, they would also catch sight of even more booths and carts, designated entirely to games and things of the like. There were even places set up for the trading of livestock and furniture. Buildings were lined with decorations that were vibrant in colour.

The event wasn’t to officially begin for another quarter of an hour, but it appeared things were already in full swing.

The Festival of Good Tides; a yearly occurrence in Wintertide that was first established several years back after a truce had been called to end a three-year war between the kingdom and its neighbouring lands, Coral Crest. What was originally created as a way of boosting post war morale had become somewhat of a national holiday that the people looked forward to with great anticipation. Its popularity was also helped by the fact that the many activities and wares sold brought a large increase of income to the kingdom, something that many now relied on for the coming winter season, where food and warmth was a bit hard to come by without a bit of extra coin.

Though the festivities only lasted one day, the most was always made of it. Events and trading started at noon and extended into the evening until the sun had set and the stars had risen, from which point the king would make his appearance, give a speech and his blessing for the coming winter, and then the feast would begin. This grand dinner would go throughout the night and into the early morning, with more than enough food and alcohol to satisfy the masses provided by the castle.

Though it had only been a few years since the tradition had begun, its rise in popularity had been swift and widespread. People would come from all over the land just to partake in the joyous occasion, and get a piece of the financial opportunities that it offered. 

During this time, Inns would become so crowded that people even took the opportunity to rent out rooms in their own homes to travelers. It was even common for those intending to sell to camp out with their traveling carts and stalls in the surrounding woods during the week leading up to the festival, so common that there were designated areas marked and prepped for them nearly a month in advance. 

Gem never really got to enjoy the festival as the celebration that it was, preferring to act more as security so as to ensure that things didn’t get too out of hand, but it was still something that she looked forward to every year. It was one of many highlights that came from living in the capital. It reminded her of who she was here for, who she spent every day of her life training and fighting to protect.

It wasn’t too long ago that this land would have been rife with paranoia and poverty, the war having taken its toll on the people and the land itself. Gem basked in every second of the happiness that she could, while also remaining vigilant that nothing disturbed it. She would do anything to ensure that this time of peace lasted.

“I’m going to split off here,” Scott said, interrupting her thoughts. He jabbed his thumb over to the left of the path they were walking to indicate where he was going, “I think Jimmy’s stall is somewhere over there. I’m going to go see if I can haggle him out of some of the high-quality leather he sells before it is all snatched up. Assuming it hasn’t been already”

“Alright, we will see you at the feast.” Impulse said, giving him a rough pat on the shoulder as a farewell.

“Don’t forget to actually do your job while you’re at it.” Gem teased, punching him in the shoulder. She then motioned for two of the other knights to break off from the group to accompany Scott, and motioned for two others to go in the opposite direction, where she knew more knights were already patrolling. She didn’t want them too split up lest something happen and they need numbers, but it is never a bad idea to have eyes in more places.

“You know me, I’ve always got an eye out,” Scott replied.

“Give Jimmy and Tango my greetings” Gem cheerfully told him as he began to walk away, only to be met with a grimace thrown over his shoulder at her. She laughed at the expression. She knew that Scott’s relationship with his friend's partner was strained and awkward at best, and it was too much fun to tease him about it.

“I think I’m going to head over to my parents' cart. Would you like to come with me?” Impulse asked, looking around the crowded area to try and spot them over the masses.

“I think I am going to hang around the stage. A vast majority of fights always seem to break out in or around this area, so it is best I stay here for now.” Gem said, crossing her arms and scanning the crowd for anything, or anyone, that might be out of place.

“I know we’re here to keep an eye on things, but do try to have a little bit of fun, alright? This is, after all, a celebration!” Impulse insisted, gesturing towards the festivities with a broad sweep of his arms.

“I will do as I please. Give your mothers' my greetings, yes?” Gem asked, shooing him away and sending an extra knight after him with a gesture of her hand.

“Will do!” He gave her a two fingered salute before jogging away.

Gem would not lie and say she had not been tempted to go see Impulse’s parents with him. They were lovely people who adored her and always “snuck” handfuls of candy into the pockets of her dress when she wasn’t looking, but she had meant it when she said the city square and the stage were where 90% of the festival's problems broke out before the feast began, second only to the alcohol booths. Regardless of how rare issues actually were, though, she really would prefer to stay close so she can break up any altercations before they had a chance to escalate 

She did, however, make a pit stop over to one of the meat carts to buy her and the remaining knights with her a rabbit and potato skew from one of the stands a little ways away from the center of the festival. It was a divine bit of food, and she would be a fool to not get some before it was all sold out. The bread roll she had snagged from the kitchen had done little to satiate her hunger and it would be foolish to work on an empty stomach, she reasoned as she thumbed coins over to the vendor and was handed a couple of skewers in return for her payment. 

She distributed them among her remaining knights and then took a big bite out of the hearty meat as she led the way back towards the stage, just in time to catch the start of the next performance.

A stout young woman in a short sleeved, rose pink dress made her way up onto the stage with a bright smile on her face. A man followed behind her with a staff in his hand, and Gem grew giddy with excitement as she realized where this performance may be going. The man went down onto one knee and offered the woman the staff , which she accepted with a deep bow before he rushed off the stage.

She raised the staff, made of wood old and brittle with a glittering jewel entrapped in its spiraled tip, up towards the sky, and the crowd waited with bated breath. She whispered something under her breath, so quiet that it was sure not a soul in the crowd had heard her, but Gem watched her lips form the words, and she knew what was coming next.

For a moment nothing happened, and then light burst forth from the tip of the staff up into the sky in a coil of glittering gold. The strings of light rippled through the air before coming together to form the image of a bird big and grand, which spread its magneficent wings and flew over the crowd with a brilliant wooshing sound. The crowd screamed with delight and laughter as the bird let out a tremendous caw. It rose high into the sky before turning abruptly and diving straight for the stage floor. It exploded as it made contact with the ground, sending glittering shimmers of light, almost like millions of miniature stars, all across the wooden planks.

The crowd erupted into raucous cheers, which Gem joined in on, holding the now bare wooden skew in between her teeth in order to do so. The woman, her smiling face now red and shiny with sweat, bowed once more, holding her staff out to the side of her and placing a hand over her heart as she did so. She took a moment to wave to the crowd before rushing off stage to make way for the next performer. 

What a brilliant performance, Gem thought. Magic in this day and age was a rare sight to see, so even simple spells like that were enough to leave most in awe. 

Gem couldn’t even imagine what it had been like back in the day, when magic was rampant and widespread across the lands, when things like this were commonplace and about as impressive as someone tying their boots. Gem was well versed in what little there was to be known about magic, and it wasn’t a lot. There were very little records of that time long past, only a few books here, the odd fairytale there. There was barely even enough to tell the people of today that there was once a period of time where magic ruled the lands, and no one exactly knows what happened to it.

Now there were barely any folks left with any sort of magical inclination about them at all, and those who did had so little of it that they were barely able to do simple illusion spells like the one Gem just saw without being left utterly exhausted by their efforts. 

She watched several more performances after this, ranging from a man who juggled an armful of colourful balls, a woman who balanced herself on the tip of a tall, slim poll, a woman who sang a beautiful song accompanied by her husband’s lute, a man who did a magic trick involving balls of fire, and many more.

Hours had passed and the next performer was just about to come up onto the stage when Gem caught something out of the corner of her eye. A swish of red fabric that was all too familiar to her; one of the reasons she always preferred to stay on her toes. 

She inhaled sharply through her nose, sparks of anger already kindling in her chest as she whipped around to ensure it was who she thought it was, and without a doubt, it was him. There he was, standing there so close to the stage it would be no problem at all for him to climb upon it should he so wish to. He was eyeing the performer with an almost bored expression. Even with what little anonymity that stupid hood of his offered him, she would recognize him anywhere. 

She marched towards the person, her hand moving towards her sword despite knowing she could not, and would not, use it in such a crowded space. Not when so many innocent lives were at risk of getting caught in the crossfire.

His head turned in her direction, his inky black eyes lighting up with amusement as he spotted her, a smirk spread across his bird-like face. He turned away and took off into the crowd, and Gem gave chase without a second thought.

He weaved through the crowd faster and faster, seamlessly avoiding bumping into people as he moved in a way not too dissimilar to a snake in the grass. She shouldered past people, yelling quick apologies to those who shouted in protest as she tried to keep up with the smaller man, his distinctive red cloak being the only thing that allowed her to keep sight of him through the tightly packed crowd.

He led her all the way towards the bustling merchant’s area. This part of the festival was full of richly coloured fabrics that were folded neatly along the surface of the carts that sold them, and there was a large variety of rare clothing article, which hung from racks in tidy rows on either side of her, easy to knock down and cause a fuss should she not move carefully. The air was thick with perfumes and the smell of dye, the scent thick and almost overpowering to her hard-working lungs as she ran through the area with delicate movements. He threw her a devious smile over his shoulder as he ducked under a rack of brightly coloured scarves, which she darted around, knowing she would not make it under. 

She wasn’t a fool, she knew this was a game to him, and she wasn’t going to let him keep playing it.

The crowd was beginning to thin the further they got away from bustling city square, giving her the opportunity to increase her speed at last. Her armor rattled as she pushed herself to catch up to the nimble man, her blood rushing through her ears and her heart racing loudly. He attempted to duck into an alleyway, but she followed after before he could escape, turning sharply on her heels. She grabbed the back of his cloak, pulling him backwards and his hood down.

She ducked as a set of razor sharp talons ripped towards her face, messy pieces of her hair whipping past her field of vision as she grabbed the man’s wrist, bringing her palm up swiftly into his gut. He gasped as the air was knocked out of his small body. She took the opportunity to swing around into a kick, and her boot would have connected with his neck had he not raised his arms into a protective position in order to block the blow in the last moment. It was still enough to send him to the ground, however, and he hit the cobble with a bounce that sent him rolling.

He used the momentum to flip himself up into a crouching position, blood running down his chin from where he had presumably bit his tongue. His expression was still somewhat playful, but now had a much more serious glint to it. He kept his talons at the ready to counter Gem’s next attack, his body tense with anticipation. His sharp eyes were taunting her, waiting for her to make the next move as he always did.

“Grian.” She said, her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it at any moment.

“Commander” He said in turn, tilting his head unnaturally to the side, much like the owl he shared his attributes with.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, looking down her nose at him, her thumb inching her sword out of the sheath.

“Is it a crime to enjoy a national holiday like every other citizen in the kingdom?” He questioned in an almost teasing manner.

“Enough of your games! It is no mere coincidence that you would show up today of all days after months of silence.” Gem snapped, her shoulders rising in turn with the bubbling anger in her heart.

Grian, a slippery, troublemaking avian that she had been butting heads with on a near regular basis ever since she was a bright eyed squire fresh off of the snowy mountain she called home, eager to prove herself in her search for glory.  

He had made his entrance into her life in a flashy and grand fashion that was bound to leave an impression on just about anyone; an explosion in the castle's courtyard. It had been small, only enough to take out a tiny portion of the wall. It had been so clearly a distraction, but after years of war, it had been enough to cause a panic that only Gem had been levelheaded enough to power her way through. It was her quick wit that allowed her to act swiftly in the face of potential danger, and her friendly and outgoing personality that let her realize she’d never seen his face around the castle before and clock that he was an intruder. She’d taken him down before he was able to do whatever it was that he was planning to do inside of the castle, but he’d still managed to escape in the end.

Along with an increase in security and guards stationed on the outer walls, the royal army gained another knight that day. Ironic that it would be the man who would come to torment her any chance he could in the near future that would see to it that she was promoted early in her career.

They met many times after that first initial encounter, and with each one it only became obvious that his goal from the very beginning was to tear down the Wintertide royal bloodline at any cost and destroy the peace she tried so hard to protect. 

He sought to create chaos and disorder within the kingdom, and he would stop at nothing to see these goals met. It was only natural that they would become rivals, enemies that would be at constant odds with each other until the end of all things. Time and time again he would make his move against the royal family, and she was always there to put an end to it. It was an endless dance that they seemed to be trapped in indefinitely, for better or for worse.

As the years passed, he shifted his focus from the castle and the king to something else, something more attainable. He would commonly be found in the streets, yelling about injustices to anyone who would give him an ear. 

At first, no one would pay him any mind, and he would always make a break for it the second Gem showed up to put a stop to his public disturbances. Over time, however, as taxes were raised to cover the costs of damages done to the land and economy by the war, and tensions between their neighbouring kingdom rose yet again, his ideals slowly but surely gained more and more popularity. People were moved by his cause, rallied by a hatred for a monarchy they felt provided them very little protection or surety in their time of unrest. 

Suddenly he wasn’t a single person acting alone anymore; he was the leader of a group they had no way of knowing the scope of. 

They had tried to take him and his mysterious resistance down for years now, but by some feat of the gods they had managed to avoid detection, as well as capture, the entire time. Even now, it is unknown just how large his resistance is, or the names of those who operate within it, making it difficult to do anything in opposition to the group. They had only a few names for certain they could connect to him, but they have all been as untraceable as he. Every tip and clue that came Gem's way only led to empty houses and cellars with nothing but clearly fake plans and documents within them that led her and her men right back to where they had started; with nothing at all. 

All of this to say that he and his group are dangerous, effective people who should not be taken lightly, and his presence at The Festival of Good Tides bore nothing but ill tidings. 

The avian sighed in an overly dramatic, fake manner, no doubt playing it up to get a rise out of her. She was ashamed to admit that it worked.

“Fine, I suppose there is no point in hiding it from you,” He said, his face once again breaking into a wide smile, “I was looking for you, actually. I knew if I showed up to the festival you would find me within seconds and pursue me until you had me in your grasp.”

“And, why, in god's name, were you seeking to put yourself right into my hands? A bit of a foolish thing to do, if you ask me. You know as well as I do that you are no match for me, birdy.” She taunted. 

She swiftly pulled her sword from its sheath and put the tip of the blade to his unprotected neck. It was just long enough for her to close the distance between them without having to take so much as a step closer. His expression remained unbothered and playful, despite the obvious threats to his life.

“I wanted to give you a fair warning,” He replied cryptically.

“What in the hells does that mean?” She questioned, hackles once again rising.

“Something big is coming, Gem.” He answered. His eyes were wide and excited, almost manic even, as he said this. She had never seen him like this before in all her years knowing him.

“Something big? What in the blazes are you on about?” She asked, unease settling in her stomach like a heavy stone at the words

“You would do well to prepare yourself while you still can.” He said instead of giving her a real answer, “For all of our back and forth, I do not hate you. It would sure be a shame if something were to happen to you that could have been avoided.”

“Your mad rambles make little sense. Explain yourself before I have your head!” She threatened, pushing the tip of the sword against his throat further.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anymore than I already have, but you’ll find out in due time, believe in that. The end might be closer than you think.” He said, and her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. 

He took advantage of her brief shock to sweep his leg out faster than she could react. The hard, scaly part of his taloned foot grabbed a hold of her sword’s blade and wrenched the weapon out of her hands, sending it to the ground with a metallic clatter. She shouted in alarm and leaped towards the fallen sword in an attempt to regain control of the situation, but before she could even get close, Grian pulled a bottle out from somewhere within his cloak and smashed it against the ground at her feet.

There was a flash and a popping noise following the shattering of the glass, and thick smoke billowed out around them, obscuring her vision and filling her nose with the overbearing smell of sulfur. Her eyes burned, watering fiercely as she coughed, trying to clear her lungs of the smoke.

She waved the air in front of her, looking around frantically for the avian but seeing not a single sign of him. There wasn’t so much as a feather on the ground, nor where there any footprints in the grime showing where he’d taken off to. All there was in the now vacant cobble alley was her sword, flat against the ground where it had fallen. 

“Gem!” She heard someone call out to her from behind.

She turned to find Impulse rushing towards her. He looked frantic, out of breath. A few other soldiers trailed behind him, visibly on edge as they looked around the smokey alley. Her old friend hurried to her side, grabbing her face and brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes as he turned her side to side to check for injuries. 

She pulled away from him, wordlessly moving over to her abandoned sword and picking it up from the ground. She examined the blade before turning her eyes up to the sky, where the smoke was still spiraling up towards the clear blue expanse. 

“The men that were stationed with you came to me in a frenzy and said you took off in a rush. They said may be in need of some help, and the thought of you of all people needing help against something on its own is a frightening, so I came as soon as I could.” Impulse said from behind her. “What happened?

“It was Grian.” She said, turning towards him. Then, as an afterthought, she tacked on, “And I didn’t need any help. You know me.”

“It hardly matters to me how strong you are, I will always worry for you regardless. It is in my nature.” He said with a smile, which dropped into a more serious look, “But, Grian, you say? Has he not been off the radar for months now? What’s he doing back in the capital on today of all day? Surely he is up to no good.”

She sheathed her sword, taking a moment to wonder if she should share the cryptid warning that the avian had given her. Her eyes flickered over to the nervous knights standing behind her friend. They were clearly new, fresh out of being squires if she had to take a guess. It was highly probable that they would panic upon hearing information such as this. Besides, anything pertaining to Grian and his resistance was more classified than what she was willing to share with just anyone. She would prefer to inform the king of the news, as well, and it was almost nightfall anyway so his arrival to the festival site was fast approaching. It was best she not have to repeat herself when handling such delicate information. You never know who may be listening.

“I think it would be wiser if I don’t share that with so many ears around. This is information better shared to a smaller group.” She informed him. He glanced back at the soldiers behind him and nodded in understanding.

“Let us return to the festival, this time with eyes and ears more focused.” She said, "If he shows his face again, he will not be getting away so easily a second time."

She turned on her heels and deftly made her way back towards the crowded square, the others following after all. She held her head high, posture straight and professional, but underneath the facade was a twisting feeling of unease that she couldn’t get rid of, and which threatened to force her lunch to make a second appearance. 

Her mind was racing, her chest was tight. What could her longtime rival have meant with that threat? No, that had been more of a promise than it had been a threat. But a promise of what, she didn’t know, and that is what scared her. Whatever it was that he had in store for the kingdom of Wintertide, he was so incredibly certain of its success that he was willing to seek her out to personally tell her of its existence. 

Either he was a fool, or there was something to truly worry about afoot, and something told her it was the latter since she had never known Grian to be a stupid man.

In fact he was quite the dangerous person. 

A harmless person could not gain the following and influence that he had over people in such a short time as he had. Even when the people above her had thought of him as little more than a fly buzzing in their ear, she had always taken every move he made seriously. She would be a fool herself not to treat him as the treat he really was. 

If anything, she was surprised it had taken so long for him to make his move. With the reach and numbers he seemed to have within the capital it was a wonder something “big��� had yet to happen. Why now of all times? What was his game?

She looked over her shoulder at the abandoned alley one last time, her expression hardening into a determined glare. Even with her worry, she knew one thing for certain; whatever it may be that he was planning, she would put an end to it. 

He would not succeed. 

                                                ❀     ❀     ❀

“Was it necessary to toy with her like that?” His hooded companion asked from beside him, tone high and amused.

Grian stood upon the roof, the smoke bomb having given him just enough time to escape out of view. His cloak fluttered in the wind behind him and his hands clenched into fists, his sharp nails digging into his palms. His expression was blank, his black eyes watching as the commander of the royal army grew smaller the further she got from them. She’d almost seen him when she glanced back. Almost, but not quiet. 

“Not that I am complaining,” His companion pushed further upon not receiving a response, “It is rather funny, I must admit.”

“I am not toying with her,” He stated, not daring to take his eyes off of the commander until she was well out of view, “It was a real warning.”

“Even worse,” Was the reply, which was then followed by a laugh, “Now she’ll be wary, more prepared than she would have had you said nothing at all. I have to agree with the Commander on this one, Grian, this seems an odd move to make so early into the plan. After all of the work we put into this, it seems entirely counterproductive. Are you not worried she could put an end to this all before it has even begun?”

“Let her try and interfere,” He said, a smile spreading across his face as the wind picked up speed, “There will be no stopping what is to come.”

[literary-motif]

Hiiii!~ :DD I just can't believe no one has asked for this yet, but ISAAC AND PICKLE GARDENING TOGETHER!! <333 I think they would be just ADORABLE!! Maybe both of them will have a little picnic together near the lake... (I think Saku mentioned that he owned one...) Pickle making a flower crown for Isaac :33 And Isaac reminiscing about his mother!

Enjoy The Silence

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

Warnings: grief

Isaac was a little nervous. He was very nervous, actually. 

There was a strikingly clear reason why he always hired a gardener. There were two reasons, buried in the ground under the little blue flowers that grew by the headstones. 

Why he had agreed to this, he did not know. The thought of having you in the garden — the garden, the one where he had lost half his heart and the majority of his years alive — made his stomach clench in painful knots. It made him anxious, threatening to pull him into the very depths of a panic attack because only the possibility of losing you to a shot fired from the trees beyond made his eyes tear up as a painful lump formed in his throat.

You had asked him for it, though. You had suggested tending to the delicate blue flowers together — with your eyes glinting in compassion, begging him to allow you this grand gesture of affection that would ease his pain like the first time you had visited their graves together. 

His blood had frozen. The firm, absolute, and forever unchanging ‘no’ stuck on his tongue as he took in your expression of gentle hope. 

I can’t live my life trapped in this house, Isaac. I can’t, no matter how much I love you. 

He swallowed thickly and conceded. 

You had been so happy, turning the whole day into a little event to ease his mind from the heaviness of tending to the flowers growing on his family’s graves. There was a picnic basket, complete with a blanket, standing by in the kitchen for when you were done. The very idea of sitting outside — waiting like sitting ducks to be shot — made him shudder. 

He dreaded this day. He hated that he did. 

“Ready?” you asked, smiling brightly at him as you pulled on gloves for gardening. You had had many occasions to demonstrate your varying skill with plants, although you supposed ridding the flowers of weeds and trimming the bush a little was different from tending to houseplants. 

He stood staring at the front door, trying to hide the shaking of his hands. 

“Isaac?”

“Do we have to?” he whispered, the vulnerability seeping into his tone wiping the smile from your face. He sounded close to tears. “Do we have to? I— I’m so scared something might— might—”

You pulled off the gloves, letting them fall to the ground. “Hey, look at me,” you said, resting a hand on his cheek. Isaac turned to face you, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears of fear and, you supposed knowing him, shame as well. “We don’t have to do anything if it hurts you this much, sweetheart.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into your touch. “What if I can’t?” he croaked, tears escaping his eyes. “What if I’m never ready? What if this always happens? What if I can’t keep it together at the thought of us going outside? I— I don’t want to lose you. I can’t—”

“Isaac, look at me,” you requested, raising your other hand to his cheek as well. Your fingers played with the strands of hair at his temples, thumbs wiping away the tears trailing down his cheeks. When he slowly opened his eyes, searching your gaze with eyes full of sorrow, you continued, “It’s alright if you’re not ready. It’s okay. Overcoming trauma is hard, I get that — I know that. Healing takes a lot of time, love. The important thing is that you try, and I know you do. You’re so brave every day for me, love, and I will never leave you because of this. Alright? Never, Isaac. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, I know you are doing your best.”

“My best is not enough sometimes,” he admitted quietly, the words tasting like defeat. 

“Don’t even think that!”

“But it’s true! Look at me,” he cried, stepping away from your soft touch to bury his face in his hands. “I can’t even keep my word because I’m so scared. I— the fear feels like it’s eating me up, gnawing away and keeping me paralyzed. I’m forever stuck in this— this house because they are outside and I can’t— I can’t tear myself away and nowhere else is safe.”

Your heart shattered. “Come here,” you said, keeping your voice airily light. It cut through the spiral of his thoughts like a knife, and he crashed into your open arms as if they were his lifeline. You held onto him tightly, running your fingers through his hair in a gesture you knew helped him calm down. “Small steps, Isaac. Yeah?”

“Steps?” he asked incredulously, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “I’ve been immobile for years!”

“That’s not true, love. These things take time,” you said, listening to his breathing slowly even out. The tears stopped, although the patch of wetness on your shoulder would remain a moment longer. 

Isaac slowly raised his head, wiping at his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, his voice strained. He hesitated before retrieving his phone and checking the CCTV. “Just give me a moment, yeah?”

You blinked in surprise. “A moment for what?” you asked, already knowing the answer. 

“A moment to make sure nobody is there to— to hurt us. I checked already, but I want to make sure again before we go out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Pickle.”

“I don’t want to push you, Isaac. Maybe it’s best if we put this off—”

“No! I need to do this,” he said, his tone firm despite the tremor in his voice. “I need to! I can’t stand this anymore. I need to face this. I— I don’t feel ready, but— but I want to.” His eyes roamed over the footage, analyzing every rustling of leaves, checking for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing. Isaac swallowed, closing his eyes to compose himself before plunging into his deepest fear. “You’ll stay by my side, yes?” 

Your gaze softened. “Of course,” you said, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “I promise.”

He bent down, picking up your gloves. “Alright,” he breathed, waiting for you to reappear at his side with the picnic basket and gardening tools in hand. “Alright, alright.” His hand hovered above the doorknob.

I want you to know your parents would have been proud of the man you have become, little one.

There was no big event. There was no gunshot — thank god. There was no sound out of the ordinary.

The birds continued chirping. The sun, although occasionally hidden behind a cloud, did not change color. Nothing changed at all as you both stepped outside. Isaac was weary, his eyes darting across the garden in search of something. He barely realized that he was outside at all, that he did it, with your hand tightly clasped in his while his other rested on the gun he couldn’t feel safe without.

“They don’t look so bad. I think a little trimming on the sides is all they need. Look, there are barely any weeds.”

Isaac looked down. After all these years, reading the names on the headstones still knocked the breath out of him. It was also the instance in which he realized — fully and without argument — that he was outside with the love of his life. The realization made him squeeze your hand harder, the feeling of having something incredibly valuable in a place where they were not safe was nearly enough to plunge him into a panic again. 

But he had also faced his fear. He had kept his word, well, half of it. The first step was done, now he only needed to follow the path. 

“You alright?”

He thought for a moment. “Yes,” he replied, surprised that he meant it despite his heart racing. “Do you want to trim or free them from the weeds?”

Gardening was surprisingly relaxing. You were carefully ridding the beautiful bush of flowers from its outreaching branches while Isaac plucked at the weeds growing beneath it on his knees. The conversation turned light, and for the first time in a decade, he forgot the overwhelming fear that came with being beneath a clear sky and allowed himself to chuckle fondly at something you said. 

He paused, practically feeling the flower petals glow with happiness. 

Yes, mom. I miss you too. It hurts every day that you’re not here — I miss you so much it burns a hole in my chest when I breathe. It has gotten easier with them. I love them, and I wish more than anything that you could have met the person who fills the void in my chest with love. I miss you every day. Tell Dad I miss him too and give Grandpa a big hug. I think I missed my chance when he was still here. I love you, take care.

“Isaac?”

He had not even realized that he was crying. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks in rivers that felt like they would never end. His hands were balled into fists, clutching at the earth beneath the flower bush, reminiscent of the time you had prompted him to talk to them for the first time. 

God, it still hurt so much. Why did it still hurt so much?

“I’m fine,” he said, wiping at his eyes. It was useless, the tears would not stop falling. “I— I haven’t— the flowers and— I miss them. I miss them so much.”

You knelt beside him, gathering him into your arms again. Isaac slumped against your side, his blurry vision rising towards the headstones with the names of his family. The sight made his lower lip wobble, the feeling of drowning in his grief and sorrow overwhelming. He thought he would have if you had not been there to hold him together. 

There was a reason he had never allowed himself to feel the extent of his pain when he was alone. He could not have born it. The misery and grief of his life would have crushed him, leaving him untethered in an unforgiving world with people who relied on him, expecting him to carry on his grandfather’s legacy like he had promised he would. 

He had never allowed himself to feel the extent of his loss, and now that he knew he could — no need to hide from it behind whiskey glasses and ceiling-high towers of paper — it devoured him whole. He let it because he knew you were there to anchor him.

The flowers were done, and once the sun had begun its descent and noon turned into late evening, you found yourself spread out on the picnic blanket by the lake, plucking the daisies with the longest stems as Isaac’s head rested on your thigh. 

He was eating one of the chocolate muffins you had baked, his tears long since dried. There was a slight downturn to his lips, betraying his somber thoughts despite the peaceful scenery around you. 

“She hated baking,” he admitted quietly. 

You halted your weaving, glancing at him. Instead of the bleak, sorrowful expression you had been expecting, there was a fond smile on his face. 

“I used to make cookies with my father. We would— we would spend hours decorating them with icing and putting little designs on them. My mother liked cooking. She— she tried teaching me, but I wasn’t very interested. I mean, I was a kid. I preferred baking, but— You know, I wish I would have listened to her more. I wish I— I had appreciated them all more and now—” he broke off with a sigh, the fond memory charing at the edges as he was reminded of the harsh reality that they were gone. He would never again roll out dough with his father, or listen to his mother’s gentle instructions on how to make the perfect Goya.

You finished the flower crown, turning it around in your hands before placing it on Isaac’s head gently. He looked up at you, the expression of melancholy fading as he gave you a sweet smile. 

“We’ll make the most of our time as well, love.”

[hero-israel]

hi, fellow Jew here

what's antisemitic about the genocide claims? i've heard this a lot, and aside from being Horrific Misinformation, i don't... see why this is antisemitic? like it's bad and wrong but i don't know if it comes from Jew-hate if ykw i mean.

sorry, this could be a stupid question-

When it comes to Jewish institutions, all misinformation, false accusations, and conspiracy theories are inherently antisemitic. Charging Jews with "genocide" in these circumstances - when they are shooting back in a two-sided war, aimed at an armed group, taking steps to encourage and allow civilians to flee - requires a false accusation and a minimization / inversion of terms.

David Schraub:

"For thousands of years, for much of the world, part of the cultural patrimony enjoyed by all non-Jews—spiritual and secular, Church and Mosque, enlightenment and romantic, European and Middle Eastern—was the unquestionable right to stand superior over Jews. It was that right which the Holocaust took away, or at least called into question: the unthinking faith of knowing you were the more enlightened one, the spiritually purer one, the more rational one, the dispenser of morality rather than the object of it. To be sure, some people were better positioned to enjoy this right than others. And some people arrived onto the scene late in the game, only to discover that part of the bounty they were promised may no longer be on the table. Of course they’re aggrieved! The European immigrant who never owned a slave but was at least promised racial superiority is quite resentful when the wages of Whiteness stop being what they once were. Similarly, persons who lived far from the centers of Christian or Muslim power where Jewish subordination was forged are nonetheless well aware of what was supposed to be included in modernity’s gift basket. They recognize what they’ve “lost” as acutely as anyone else.

“The Germans,” the old saying goes, “will never forgive the Jews for Auschwitz.” And not just the Germans. Many people deeply resent the Jews for what Auschwitz took away from them—the easy knowledge that their vantage point was elevated over and superior to that of the Jews, the entitlement to be able to talk about Jews without having to listen to Jews. The desire to neuter the Holocaust is a desire to return to that old state of affairs. And so it shouldn’t surprise anyone that Jews exhibit a special ferocity over the meaning of “genocide.” As noted above, the controversy of this MBL language has in large part played out in terms of whether it is even proper for Jews to register an objection. Are we valid contributors to the conversation? Are we equal players in this struggle? This is no coincidence. When people charge the Jewish state with genocide, part of what they are doing—with varying degrees of explicitness—is telling Jews “this concept which obliged us to listen to you no longer can underwrite that duty.” And in that brave old world, they can return to the baseline that had existed for thousands of years—where it was unthinkable, outrageous, blasphemous, for a Jew to have the temerity to contest a non-Jewish articulation of Jewish experience."

[harrywavycurly]

Hi Sarah can I ask for a tiny little update on Eddie’s wish? I want him to just say he’ll keep us🥺

Hiii babes!! I will happily give you a little update for Eddie and his “person” so I hope you enjoy this🥹💖

Masterlist: here

Tag List: @miss-celestial-being @edsforehead @starrywhitenight @mrsjellymunson @5sosjay @emma77645 @akiratoro420 @elegantkoalapaper @squidscottjeans @mikromoon @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @niallerlover8022 @twilightsfairie @pausmoon @pauphs

*Eddie just really wants you to stop randomly appearing places*

“Why don’t you get enough groceries for the whole week so you don’t have to come here every single day?” Eddie nearly drops the can of soup he’s holding as he hears your voice and feels a small breeze behind him letting him know you’re here. He turns on his heels so he’s facing you but you’re too preoccupied with all the different types of canned ravioli flavors to pay him any attention. “What’s pizza flavor taste like?” You ask as you eyeball the can making Eddie run a hand over his face, you had told him you’d stop popping up in public places but clearly you lied because here you are in the middle of the canned vegetable and soup aisle of the mini mart.

“What are you doing here?” He mumbles making you laugh but he doesn’t see your mouth move he just hears the sound in his head reminding him that when in public he can communicate with you without actually speaking since he’s the only one who can see you at the moment.

“You’re upset.” You answer simply as you continue walking down the aisle looking at all the canned goods. “I see why…this aisle is kind of depressing…you can get potatoes in a can?” Eddie rolls his eyes as he drops another can of chicken noodle soup into his basket.

“I’m not upset.” He thinks making you stop walking so you can face him. He lets out a sigh as he looks down at the floor as you slowly take a step closer to him.

“Look at me.” Your voice isn’t demanding by any means but for some reason Eddie does what you ask and looks you right in your eyes. He feels a sense of calmness overtaking him as he slips deeper into your stare and he knows this has to be one of those weird things you’re able to do, make him relax when he’s on the verge of a breakdown. “What’s wrong?” You ask as your hand comes up and rests on his cheek making him close his eyes as he leans into your touch but it only lasts a minute because then Eddie remembers he’s in the middle of a grocery aisle and probably looks crazy standing there with his eyes closed.

“What’s wrong is you keep popping up in public and making me look fucking crazy.” He snaps making you let out a huff as you twirl around so your back is now facing him.

“Well then just tell me you want to keep me and everyone will be able to see me.” Eddie raises an eyebrow as he watches you pick up a jar of pickles and he wonders if to anyone walking by if the jar looks like it’s floating or if they can’t see the jar since you’re holding it. “It’s that easy…or we can wait the final two days and then they’ll be able to see me.” You explain as you put the jar back on the shelf.

“So…if I just saw that I want to keep you that means the trial run is over and you’ll be…around all the time?” He asks as he rubs at the back of his neck all of a sudden feeling nervous at the idea of you being around all the time because what if you don’t like him or get annoyed at how often he needs you.

“You can’t annoy me just because you need me Eddie…don’t be silly.” Eddie feels his cheeks get warm because of course you know how he’s feeling and what he’s thinking, it’s your job.

“Uhm…okay so when you appear that’s when people will know you and uh everything?” You turn so you’re looking at Eddie and you can’t help but smile at how nervous he is.

“Yes everyone will have at least a faint memory of meeting me…minus the people in your life like your family and friends they will all share the same memory of meeting me it’ll just vary by person but usually it’s…like I met them at a party or something that’s easy to use for several people.” Eddie just nods as you explain it all to him and he has to admit it’s pretty genius. “And they’ll know that wherever you go…I go it’ll be set into their memory as well…they’ll just get it.” You explain as you take a step so he’s only a few feet away from you.

“Okay…then uhm…I want to…keep you.” Eddie mumbles out loud because he’s not sure if that’s something he can just think or if he needs to actually speak it. You smile as a slight breeze blows his hair around making you reach up and brush it behind his ears making his cheek get warm at the feeling of your hand brushing across it.

“Hi Eddie.” Your voice is extra warm and soft making Eddie’s shoulder relax a bit as you look into his brown eyes for the first time as his now permanent person. “Come here.” Eddie doesn’t even hesitate as he drops his basket at his feet and wraps his arms around your shoulders as you pull him into a hug, you begin running your hands up and down his back.

“It’s been a rough day.” He mumbles as he rests his head on your shoulder not caring that’s he’s on the verge of crying on your shoulder in the middle of the mini mart.

“I know.” You whisper in his ear as you pull him in a little closer. “But don’t worry…I’m here.” With that you just hold him for as long as he needs and you just smile at the people who walk by and give the two of you weird looks, you know in their mind they just know this is how you and Eddie are sometimes.

[melbatron5000]

The fruit of the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil

When Gabriel first arrives to Whickber street, a truckful of tomatoes dumps its load at his feet, he even squishes one and almost trips.

@scottishmushroom asked what this means in this post here, and I have some thoughts.

Every scene in this show is doing double duty, every image has symbolism attached to it. The symbolism needs to either be funny, or serve the narrative somehow (often both). And this season is lousy with Clues.

What twigged me to my thought was the further note that there seem to be baskets of tomatoes in the Job minisode. They seem to be a throwaway prop, except that they are placed exactly between Aziraphale and Crowley in the shot they appear in. The placement of objects matters, as it tells the audience what's important, whose POV we're seeing through, etc.

(Oh, hey! I just noticed that the plants in the shot with the pomegranates appear to be dracaena trifasciata -- common names include mother-in-law's tongue, SNAKE plant, and DEVIL'S TONGUE. Native to Nigeria, so not out of place here. I have a six-foot one of those in my sunroom! Hm!)

Back to the tomatoes.

Tomatoes in the Middle East during Bibical times? @docdust pointed out that those aren't tomatoes, they're pomegranates.

Aha.

Tomatoes used to be called "love apples" back in the day, and the Greeks referred to pomegranates as "grainy apples."

Apples, Bible, something something Eve ate something . . .

Eve ate of the fruit of the tree of knowledge, then offered the fruit to Adam who also ate it. Then both were cast out of Eden, because God was worried they would also eat of the tree of eternal life and elevate themselves to Her own status. (That part of the story gets left out a lot, I wonder why . . . )

There's actually no Biblical reference that we know of to any particular fruit. Some translator at some point labelled it an apple, and it's been thought of that way ever since. But apples weren't found in the Middle East during Biblical times, either, so it's unlikely it was actually an apple Eve ate. Pick a fruit to stand in, any fruit.

(In the TV series Lucifer, Eve jokes that it was always a metaphor, there never was a "fruit" of any kind. Unless maybe a banana? (She grins at Lucifer.) But I digress.)

So pick a fruit to stand in for apples. Maybe a tomato (love apple)? Or a pomegranate (grainy apple)?

In both scenes where these fruits appear, important characters are having a big crisis of faith. In both cases, their first crisis of faith. They are learning that Heaven isn't what it's cracked up to be. Gabriel has eaten of the fruit of the tree of knowledge, and has been cast out of Eden (Heaven). (Though we don't know that yet when he first shows up -- the tomatoes are A Clue!)

Aziraphale has eaten of the tree of knowledge and been cast out of Eden -- though in his case, Eden is simply naivete, his ability to go along with Heaven unquestioningly. ("What am I?")

Aziraphale's crisis of faith seems more clear -- even my bestie, while watching the show with me, got kind of upset at the Job minisode because of her own religious trauma. Job is touchy story for a lot of people. It's an appropriate place for Aziraphale to lose his confidence that Heaven is light and truth and good. It's a story that a lot of people lose faith over.

And Crowley, in this instance, is Eve. The one who's already tasted the fruit, and is offering it their partner. "Let me show you what you don't even know."

And so we have "apples" present at the moment of both characters gaining knowledge of good and evil. Or at least, gaining knowledge that Heaven isn't Good, and going against Heaven isn't Evil.

That's my take on it, anyway, and how I would interpret the symbolism of those two fruits present at that those two points in the narrative. Your mileage may vary.

[fereldensheroes]

@fallesto asked:

A comprehension of change struck him like lightning. Focused vision slid sidewards, giving him views of his flanks which usual peripheral vision only teased at. The varying pongs of woodland life rose to prominence in nostrils which now pulled heavy breaths as if even walking pace demanded air usually afforded for continued exertion. The gentle sound of wind blowing upon the branches and the endless titter of birdsong filled ears which alarmingly moved toward the source of sound. His abruptly hunched disposition now seemed like the only position he ever could have been arranged, the idea of standing straight relegated to a passing novelty. He looked upon himself and saw a chalky barrel chest draped in previously crimson clothing now turned a sickly yellow, blue robes below strewn upon the muddy ground near his alarmingly hoofed feet. A flick of something beyond locked his focus rearward, alarm surging into his altered self. Watching carefully he he could just about catch a glimpse of a thick haired tail sweeping past his plump posterior; his entire body keeping its amble girth despite the alarming and wondrous changes on display. A breeze was felt by his underside and helped reinforce his new found indigent nakedness. The obvious conclusion laid itself bare in his mind but acceptance denied it, his mind spinning endlessly for some sort of mundane conclusion like a mill wheel endlessly churning water. He threw his head around and snorted, attempting to cast off this feverish dream or drunken hallucination; its persistence burning away comforting possibilities. He looked back at himself, mouth parted in shock -- he was no longer man but a beast. The tales of this woodland were true, and by some sort of enchantment or curse, he walked not as a man of nobility, but what would be considered a fine steed for nobility instead!

She had felt something... a stirring in the Green. Someone it did not seem to trust had entered the forest, a forest she was a more... welcome intruder to. Dryads, they did not like outsiders. They disliked men even more.

Gwen was allowed passage as a respectful sort. A witch who looked out for things like the old growth, the old ways. Not like those pretentious sorceresses, no. A druid, one of few that still wandered the Continent--- outside of Skellige, perhaps, but Skellige had kept many old traditions and beliefs alive. She respected that.

Flowers, herbs, were tucked gently into the basket she carried. A little luna moth that shone like a sun-dappled autumn forest settled at her shoulder. The witch stood, wandering towards the source of the growing magics---

There, just past the brush, she spotted him. Red hair like her own--- that was the most she noticed before the change took place. It was akin to stories she'd heard as a child. Gods turning those who wandered where they should not into animals--- typically to the death of the mortal who had done so.

Fearlessly, she stepped into sight once the transformation completed. "Quite th' curse... you're lucky it wasn't arrows. That tends t'be th' usual for dryads." She could be a curse breaker, certainly, it was within her ability. Not here, though. Not within the still angry boughs.

[anonymouspuzzler]

taking a break from the wall of Lobotos to provide some miscellaneous Psychic 7 doodles!!! wait no there's one Loboto in there oops. oh god he's broken containment

(alt text/image IDs under cut!!)

[Image 1 ID: A black-and-white drawing of Ford doing a V-sign with his right hand, wearing baggy high-waisted shorts cinched with a belt and a checkered flannel with the sleeves rolled up, over which is a t-shirt reading "GOD CAN'T KILL ME!"]

[Image 2 ID: Two black-and-white drawings of Ford. In the first, he is posing with one hand on his hip, wearing shorts with a belt and a button-up under a t-shirt. The t-shirt reads, in a flaming text box, "MY FATE IS MY OWN NEITHER GOD NOR THE DEVIL CAN SAVE OR DAMN ME". The second drawing shows him from behind, gesturing to the back of the t-shirt with two thumbs; it reads, "BUY DREAM FLUFFS TODAY!"]

[Image 3 ID: A bust-up black-and-white drawing of Ford, wearing a life vest and giving a thumbs up, wearing a hat that reads "THE ATTITUDES OF WOMEN AND FISH TOWARD ME ARE TOO VARIED AND COMPLEX TO BE ACCURATELY DESCRIBED ON A HAT".]

[Image 4 ID: A black-and-white drawing of Ford and Nona in a rowboat being propelled psychically. Ford is on one knee with one hand on his chest and the other gesturing outwards, singing, "WHENNN THE MOOONNN HITS YOUR EYE LIIIKE A BIIIG PIZZA PIE THAT'S AMOOOREEEE". Nona, leaning on her cane and smiling placidly, thinks, "ohh I can't NOT fuck him".]

[Image 5 ID: An extremely tiny traditional pen drawing of old Bob Zanotto. He is just stood there.]

[Image 6 ID: A black-and-white single-panel comic of Cassie and Ford. Cassie, towering over Ford and leaning with her elbow propped on his head, tapping his forehead with her other hand, smirks and says, "If she's your girl why is my stamp on her plot-important letter". Ford, looking frustrated, replies, "We are in the same polycule".]

[Image 7 ID: A black-and-white single-panel comic of Loboto and Cassie. Cassie is standing behind Loboto, holding his left arm in one hand and holding up a butter knife near his head in mock-threat, smirking mischievously and saying, "Not gonna snitch and tell anyone we broke you out for dinner, right?" Loboto, toppling backwards and looking horrified, replies, "I AM SO SCARED OF YOU".]

[Image 8 ID: A drawing of Puzz, wearing a turtleneck sweater and overalls with her hair in a sloppy bun, smiling and waving lovestruck up at Cassie, who towers over her and looks down with mild interest. Cassie is nearly twice her height.]

[Image 9 ID: A color illustration of Cassie, wearing a long orange dress patterned with ants crawling in lines, a peach shawl patterned with black-and-white illustrations of bees, black flat shoes, a choker and necklace patterned with a bee charm and honey-colored hexagonal gemstones, and a warm yellow beret with an embroidered bee. Her hair is in a bun at the base of her neck and held together with honey-wand styled hairpins. She is carrying a wicker picnic basket, with a bottle of wine and a green-and-yellow checkered cloth sticking out of one side.]

[Image 10-13 IDs: A greyscale four-panel comic. In the first panel, young Bob is talking to Otto at the latter's workbench; Otto is removing a pair of goggles, looking over his shoulder at Bob and smirking knowingly. Bob, blushing and shrugging, avoiding eye contact, says with a nervous grin, "I just think Helmut's cool! It's not like I lie awake at night, thinking of him". The next panel cuts to Bob, doing just that; the third pulls in closer on his face, and the final shows him blushing furiously, saying, "Uh oh."]