#green apple spritz

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

Bonne Bell Flip Glosses in Rocket Pop, Tangerine Dream, Cherry Zinger and Green Apple Spritz

2000-2001

My personal picture of my collection

I'm so happy to have these again! The Tangerine Dream was my favorite, but all 4 of these hold a special place in my heart. I was using these when I was using Art Stuff, especially Lotta Lemon Lime and Frutie Cutie and then into high school with Black Raspberry Vanilla and the Pleasures line.

[strawberrystepmom]

pairing: Suguru Geto x F!Reader

word count: 9.7k

contents: Canon compliant up to the events of JJK0, cult leader!Suguru, naive reader, slight age difference between reader and Geto (5 years), reader can see curses/has cursed energy but it is kept intentionally vague

cw: dark content | emotional manipulation, dubious consent, voyeurism, oral sex (m!receiving), spit, violence, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of religion and religious imagery, mind fuck-y

notes: so this is a remaster/full repost of unkindness that was on my old blog! i only got up to like the third segment in that post so i figured why not do it all at once. thank you for reading if you do and i hope that you enjoy my little story! ♡ | crossposted to ao3

When you were eight years old, sitting in your mother’s lap as she combed through your wet hair, you remember telling her about a recurring dream you had been having for weeks. You were nervous to tell her, your little hands balled into fists as they rested against your nightgown clad thighs. 

“A raven,” you recount to her as she nods and gently uses the bristles of the comb to detangle a knot. “Bigger than any bird I’ve ever seen is in this dream every night, flying around over my head.” Your mother sighs and reassuringly pats your head. You hear the spritz of a spray bottle from behind you, a synthetic green apple scent filling your nostrils. 

Telling her filled your stomach with anxiety, an issue you didn’t know you had at the time. You figured the world was just scary back then. You wish you could go back and tell yourself how right you were. About how scary the world is, anyway. To tell yourself about how everything will eventually end up likely wouldn’t change the outcome but at least you could say a few things.

“The raven comes to the ground eventually. He doesn’t fly over your head forever, instead he glides by your side.”

“The visions you’ve seen are real, you aren’t crazy.”

The most unbelievable thing of all?

“You end up in love and you end up losing yourself along the way.”

Back then though, you only had your mom and her words to illuminate the darkness you felt lurked around every corner.

“Have you ever heard of omens?”

Shaking your head, you turn to look at your mom who is tapping the edge of the comb against the heel of her hand. She’s chewing the inside of her cheek and you can tell she’s deciding what to say next to comfort you. Your mom has never been good at this kind of thing, a woman who never envisioned she would have a child with so much angst and fear. 

“Sometimes we receive signs that something is going to happen in our lives even if we don’t understand them,” she starts. You hear her mouth open, as if she wants to add something additional, but you hear it snap shut as if she thought better of it. You nod once, signaling your understanding and she gets back to work at the stubborn tangle at the base of your skull without another word shared between the two of you.

You hate that this is the most vivid memory from your childhood.

You hate that you still have the dream.

You wake with a gasp, looking around and blinking as warm morning light filters through the window. Feeling around the bed, you wonder if Suguru is already up and moving for the day as your hands touch the duvet where he should be. It’s cold, as if nobody was there in the first place. Knowing that may have been the case anyway, you sigh and rub your hands over your face. 

“Suguru?”

His name leaves your lips in a tentative manner and you look around the room to make sure he isn’t looking at the early morning sun or standing there watching you sleep. No matter how much of your life you spend with him, you’ll never get used to the feeling of those black diamond eyes following you everywhere you go. But finally, you are seen. 

Four years spent with him and no one sees you like he does.

You were 18 years old, a few months from graduating high school, when Suguru approached you. The sight of a stranger raised your hackles, scared of the world at large at that point in your life, and you were concerned trouble was coming for you. All of the omens in your dreams would finally come true at the hands of this beautiful man, rising to his full height which is nearly towering over you. His hair was shorter then than it is now, just past his shoulders and tied in a neat half bun off of his face.

He looked like less of a god now than he did then but you knew it. The omnipresent feeling of him sticks in your bones. It’s the confidence that makes you stand with your back straight, that guides you through the worst of the days where he’s nowhere to be found. 

Unable to find him, you shuffle back to the futon and lay down amongst blankets that smell like him. You’ve never been able to place the scent but you know it’s his. Wrapping yourself in the duvet, you let your mind wander back to all of those years ago.

“I know this seems sudden but I wanted to ask you about your gift.”

Mention of your gift, not that you’d ever call it that, makes you freeze. He notices your expression, wide eyed and haunted, and he fights the urge to smile at you. Just as he and everyone else suspected, you have no idea what you’re capable of. It would be a failing worthy of death to let Gojo find you first. Suguru couldn’t risk the bird dog finding his canary and dropping her off, bloodied and broken, on the doorstep of the Sorcerer community. 

He wouldn’t allow it.

“M..my gift?” You repeat with uncertainty and he nods, bun bobbing against the back of his head as he does so. The situation is withering, a handsome stranger asking you about a secret you’ve kept hidden for your whole life while the sun beats down and makes you sweat. You wonder if you’re about to be killed.  

“You are an exceptional young woman, do you know that?”

The background noise of the world fades out, the sound of the spring birds chirping disappearing as you blink once, twice, and you notice those dark eyes fixated on you. You blanch and avert your eyes. Were you even allowed to look at him? Dressed in such nice clothing with such a regal demeanor? Shaking your head, you play off the awkwardness with a humorless chuckle.

“You must be looking for someone else, sir.” Bowing your head as a sign of respect, you turn to walk away. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Before you can turn on your heel to walk away, you feel a large palm rest on your shoulder. You take note of the weight of it, the feel against your bones, and you wonder why this is happening to you? You are so afraid but you can’t run, you don’t have the guts for it. What do you do now?

Nothing. You do nothing, just as you’ve done your entire life. You let this strange man grab you, hold you, speak to you. Humiliation rises like bile in your throat and you turn to face him, astounded again by his beauty. The sunlight catches his dark eyelashes, warmth emanating from him. How can you walk away? You won’t walk away.

“I don’t want this to be more strange than it already is,” he starts, voice deep and dreamy. You could get lost in the baritone and the way it wraps around you but you choose instead to focus on his words to try and understand what he wants from you. “But I know you have something nobody else has. Abilities.”

He’s correct but you wonder how he could possibly know about your struggles. You have kept them to yourself for years even to the detriment of your own well being. Your mother and father both assume you’re deranged and there are times where you’ve wholeheartedly agreed with them since you began seeing the things that haunt you at every turn when you were 5. 

“How do you know about that?”

The man shakes his head and holds his free hand ahead of him. “Why don’t you walk with me and we can talk some more?”

How can you say no with his hand on your shoulder? Turning on your heel to face him, you keep quiet and wait for further instructions. Your naturally submissive tendencies are serving you well in this situation and Geto doesn't hide his smug smile. You are perfect and he knew it.

As the two of you begin to pick up pace walking side by side, you anxiously keep your eyes glued to the ground. Being able to visualize each of your steps is keeping you calm and if you look down, there's less of a chance you'll see whatever is out there to scare you.

"Look at me."

He doesn't ask, he commands, and you listen. For the first time, you notice something perching on his shoulder. It's formless for the most part and less terrifying than what you usually see attached to others as they pass by you but you're intrigued nonetheless.

"Do you know about that....thing?" Pointing to his shoulder, he nods at you and you breathe a sigh of relief. "You see them also?"

A chuckle is his response and you ponder what it means while you wait for him to clear up your confusion. "I don't just see them, I control them."

The figure disappears quickly and you gasp, searching around your own feet and your shoulders to make sure he didn't order it in your direction to harm you.

"How?"

Despite your trepidation, Suguru can see the way that your eyes sparkle at the thought of someone being like you. He knows how it felt for him, too.

"I can show you and so can my friends." He watches your nose scrunch in confusion at his words and he laughs, amused. The sound is musical and uplifting and you feel yourself lightening up for the first time maybe in your entire life. Knowing you aren't alone has shifted your perspective more than you realized it would.

"There are more of you?"

"A couple dozen, yeah."

Nodding, you think for a moment. What if he can actually help you? What if these people are actually like you? What if you can find a place that suits you for the first time in 18 whole years?

"How can you help me?" 

The man turns to you, knowing smirk in place across his mouth. “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

You hate her.

Never in your life has such a bitter feeling gathered in the pit of your stomach. Your face flames every time Manami walks by, you can feel it and you know she can see it. Tonight, you are more glad than ever to be on kitchen duty even if it means having to listen to her cackle from the other side of the wall.

“Geto-sama!”

She sing-songs across the tatami with a giggle as Suguru traipses by en-route to have dinner with the group, seating himself at the head of the table as everyone else files in around it. You fight the urge to roll your eyes from where you’re standing next to Mimiko and Nanako, pouring hojicha into tea cups. 

“Geto-sama,” you mock under your breath and Nanako giggles, dishing rice into bowls at your side. The two of you giggle together, a secret shared, as she begins to bring the dishes to the table for service. Sorting your tea cups, you count how many more servings you need as you look around the doorframe to see who is waiting.

Your relationship with Geto’s most trusted inner circle has expanded greatly since you first arrived months ago. 

They knew better than to be outwardly distrustful of you. Aside from the twins, every one of them had set out to find Suguru and his group on their own. He found you. He brought you. He touted your abilities long before you arrived.

“She’s the perfect blank slate,” he gushed over dinner one night as the other members of the group listened enraptured. “We got to her just in time, too. My source says that Gojo was planning on paying her a visit.”

Your arrival was underwhelming. Greeted at the end of the footpath that leads to the front door by Miguel, Larue, Mimiko, and Nanako while Manami glowered from the porch with folded arms, you weren’t immediately made to feel welcome by anyone except for Suguru who continued to guide you along the property with your arm looped in his. She was scoping you out, taking an assessment. She believed you to be no threat. She believed wrong.

Tinkering with the last cup on the counter, you take one look into the dining room again and the realization that your usual spot is full makes you chuckle humorlessly. Not that you’re surprised, Manami has done all but piss all over Geto to mark her territory but the sight makes a bitter, sour feeling turn in your guts just the same. Your nose scrunches as if you’ve smelled something bad and you don’t immediately hear when someone else enters the kitchen to pick up the tea cups you are still filling.

“About ready?” 

The voice you recognize as belonging to Mimiko calms you and you respond with a nod, wrapping your hand around the warmest cup as you take a breath and plaster a smile on. This one goes to the man himself and you feel eyes upon you as you offer it to him with a bow. His hand lingers on top of yours for a moment and you’re glad your face is pointed toward the ground, your flustered look hidden as long as you don’t make eye contact.

“We’re just waiting on you,” he chides lightly, always a stickler for timeliness. You lift your head to his view enough to offer an apologetic half smile. He pats the side of your face with his tea-warmed hand and your smile grows. Your eyes meet his rich, umber colored pair and you feel at peace. “Manami will be out of your spot by the time you get back.”

A small “oooooooh” breaks out around the table but the tension is quickly killed with a sharp look from Suguru. Everyone quietly begins shuffling their utensils and you don’t stick around to watch Manami’s rejection, scurrying back to the kitchen to gather your own rice and tea. 

“I want to share a few moments after dinner, if you’d all like to stick around.”

Suguru’s words inspire nods and happy, affirmative hums and you catch the tail end of them as you settle next to him at the table. Your opposition glares icily from the other end of the table, the same look she kept plastered on her face the day you arrived, and you meet her eyes long enough to offer a sweet smile before bowing your head in thanks for the meal you were about to share.

“I’d especially like for you to stay,” he looks across the table at Manami who nods once before turning back to her plate. Her lips are pursed and her eyebrows are knit together in irritation but smugness glimmers in her eyes. “You too,” he says and you turn your head to see him glancing down at you. Fondness crinkles the corners of his eyes slightly and you shrink into yourself with a nod and a shy smile. “Of course.”

The rest of dinner goes as you’ve come to expect. The twins giggle and joke with every other member of the group and you all sit beneath the watchful eyes of your leader who sips at his own tea with a barely visible over the edge of his cup smirk but you can see it from where you sit. You can see the corners of his mouth upturned just enough it makes your heart flutter in your chest. 

He looks down at you and thinks about how vulnerable you look. How little you hide, your emotions and yourself alike. Were you like this before he met you or is this his influence? He takes credit. He knows the way you flash fake nice shit eating grins in Manami’s direction is for his sake. His sweet little bird isn’t afraid to fight and he hoped that would be the case.

“Since we’re all here, I wanted to discuss a few things,” Geto clears his throat and sets his cup on the table in front of him. He basks as he feels every eye in the room turn toward him but none make him feel more intoxicated than yours. When he casts you a glance, you smile shyly. He wonders if you’ll do that forever, look at him as if he’s a savior on a big white horse. He hopes so.

“I want to make some changes in what we’ll all be doing around here,” his voice rings proud and clearly and you fight the urge to prop your head up with your hand girlishly to get a better look at him. A few people shift in their seated positions but you don’t glance around to find out who, gaze fixed upon the person you want to witness the most. 

“Manami, your duties are changing.” Replacing the sound of shifting clothing is small gasping and murmuring. Manami has been Geto’s assistant for close to two years, a coveted spot amongst anyone in the group. “You will still be my personal assistant but only for off compound events and daytime hours.”

Grateful for your own refusal to look at the rest of the table, you can tune out the uncomfortable chatting. “I know this may be surprising but we have many things ahead of us we need to prepare for,” he starts and the noise quiets. “Manami is one of the brightest among us and she will excel no matter what she’s doing.”

Hearing him praise someone else makes your back stiffen, the urge to pick at the seam of your t-shirt making your fingers twist in the fabric idly. You’re grateful your grip is beneath the table, hidden from view. No one will suspect how you feel as long as you’re careful but you gasp as you feel two large, soft hands untangle your fingers from your shirt and squeeze them between their palms. Looking up you’re greeted by the handsome, vulpine smile of Geto and you feel another gentle squeeze of your hands. 

You take a deep breath and ground yourself, focusing on his words as he opens his mouth.

“You will be my new on-premises and evenings assistant.” Despite your shock and the look on your face that shows it clear as day, you nod. “I would love to,” you clarify and he squeezes your hands once more as he rises and drops your clammy fingers back into your lap. 

Standing at his full height, Geto smiles as he looks over the faces of everyone sitting around him. Even Manami is working to hide her pout, looking toward the ground but keeping a smile plastered on her face. You sit with your legs tucked beneath you, a shred of hope illuminating parts of you that you once saw as dark and empty. 

You get to spend most of your day with Geto, most of your evenings too. Perhaps in that time he will finally have the opportunity to tell you about your gift. In 6 months you’ve learned as much as you knew the day you arrived but that may be soon to change. Giddiness makes you smile slightly, your face beaming as you keep it looking up. 

Suguru extends his hand in your direction and your smile grows wider. Gingerly placing your palm in his, he helps you rise as he places his hands on either side of your face. You strain your neck glancing up at him, you’re only chest level or so to his massive form and you can feel him using his grip on your cheeks to lower your head. Once you’re gazing at the floor his lips graze your forehead and you gasp, fire erupting through your limbs. 

“I’m going to teach you so much,” he coos as he uses his grip to turn your face back toward him. His eyes drink in the sight of you - the tip of your nose, the shape of your lips, and he smirks so quickly you swear you only imagined it. His thumbs graze your cheeks before he drops his grip and looks over your head at everyone else. That tall, dark shadow rests directly over you, though.

“You’re all dismissed, thank you for a lovely evening.”

Everyone stands and you stay facing Geto until all of the footsteps have filed out, waiting for his permission to leave next. You flinch slightly when his hands grip your face again, a natural reflex to the surprise of his touch, and he gazes at you silently for so long you stop keeping time. It could have been seconds, it could have been days - you will never know but you will accept it nevertheless. 

“Come see me tomorrow morning,” he whispers and you nod. You can see his eyes flit from your eyes to your mouth and you wonder what he’s thinking. He dips his head slightly and you can feel his lips brush gently against yours, a kiss almost too small to be qualified as one. You shiver, his thumbs digging into the plump flesh of your cheeks. 

“Yes sir.”

“Say that again,” he mutters against your lips. The vibrations of his words are directly on your skin and the heat that erupted in your limbs before has become a full blown fire, your face hot and your palms sticking together. “Yes sir.” 

He presses another kiss to your forehead and releases his grip, straightening his back out as he walks toward the door and offers you a bow of his head. “Get some rest.”

You make certain he’s gone before you touch your fingers to your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as you commit the feel of his soft mouth on yours to memory. You won’t be sleeping tonight.

“Geto-sama?”

The sound of your meek voice alerts Suguru to your presence and he looks up from his usual place by the open sliding door between his room and the porch attached to it, a light breeze blowing his hair off of his shoulder. He looks ethereal and resembles a hero from a book you obsessively read as a child. Rescuing a sweet young woman from a life marred by sadness, the hero hauls her off to a place where she can be happy.

The irony isn’t lost on you.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” you start, clasping your hands together in front of you and he rises to standing, elegance exuding from him even in the most mundane of situations. He approaches you and gently rubs the back of your head and you fight the urge to lean into the touch. No amount of him feels like enough.

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” he responds with a serene smile, one you’ve noticed is just for you. He doesn’t smile at anyone else like that, not even Manami, and smugness rises in you for a split second before he speaks again. “What can I do for you?”

Clearing your throat, you look toward the ground and keep your hands linked. Geto recognizes the posture, something you do frequently when you want to speak, and he waits with his own hands joined inside of the sleeves of his yukata robes. He loves how naturally you submit to him, how you won’t even meet his eyes.

“Why am I here?”

If he’s surprised by your question, he doesn’t show it, but he does take a few strides to your side to place a comforting arm around your shoulder. Against your better judgment, you lean against him. Sides pressed together, you’re surprised when you feel the most minuscule squeeze of reassurance. Your heart threatens to burst as he leads you to where he was sitting and invites you to sit across from him, the two of you looking out at the sun setting on the horizon. 

“Before I answer,” he adjusts his sitting position and turns to face you. The golden hour warmth hits his face and you swear, not for the first time, you are glancing at a deity. Something, someone, greater than yourself. You shouldn’t be this close to him and you start to spiral but his voice brings you out of your own mind and into reality, your gaze shifting from the ground to him. “Will you tell me why you’re asking?”

Twisting your fingers together and sitting your hands in your lap, you sigh. 

You’re uncertain of how much time has passed since you left your old life behind to join him and while you do finally feel at peace with yourself, the natural pull you feel toward the man who brought you here in the first place hasn’t dissipated in the way you expected it to. It feels like an unfulfilled hunger, a need more than a simple want at this point, but how can you begin to tell him that?

“I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll see me differently.”

Your words finally get a rise from Suguru and he quirks one of his dark brows. The crack in his cool headed exterior makes you giddy - is that because of you? You’re dumbfounded when his posture changes and he scoots closer to you, your knees nearly touching his. Should you pick yours up and press them against your chest? To quell your own anxiety, you decide to follow his lead. You will only move if he does.

“Nothing you say will change my opinion of you.” He reaches out and touches your knuckles with the tips of his fingers and you feel heat rise through every inch of your body. The touch makes you feel emotional and you break the intense eye contact between the two of you to stare at the ground, hoping it will hide the tears that are threatening to spill down your lash line. “I brought you here.”

Nodding, you lift your still joined fists together and wipe your eyes and down your cheek with the back of one of your hands. Although you are still looking down, you can see Geto moving from your periphery and you wonder what he’s going to do next. 

Concerned your display is upsetting him, you sit still and try to regulate your breathing to keep from sobbing but errant tears still flow. You feel Suguru’s finger before you realize what’s happening and you flinch slightly beneath his touch as he wipes the wet tracks off of your skin. He wipes his finger along the fabric of your yukata robe before wrapping both of your fists in one of his much larger hands.

“Please be honest with me.”

Thinking back to what prompted this need for confirmation of what you mean to him, you dig your nails into your palm until you’re certain marks will be left. Manami, someone who spends almost as much time around Geto as you do, comes into your mind and you gnaw on your lower lip as you think about the jealousy churning in your gut. Why does she get to be there to help him make decisions? Why does she get to watch while he’s in meetings? Why did you see her leaving his room last week, hours before dawn?

Knowing it should be you is the emboldening thought you need to open your mouth.

“Do I mean anything to you?”

Feeling him squeeze your fists, the palm of his hand warm and comforting, you release the breath you’ve been holding. For better or worse, you’re about to find out and although your mind is racing, willing yourself to be calm comes easy in his presence. As if you needed further confirmation of everything he has done for you at a moment when you’re demanding something you feel unreasonable for wanting.

“You mean everything to me, you’re our future.”

His confirmation makes you weep. Tears flow freely, dripping down your cheeks and they hit the knuckle of Suguru’s thumb. You should feel guilty, you think, for putting him in a position to have to answer to you but cannot bring yourself to do it. You shouldn’t have had to wait more than a year to know but forgiveness is easy when it comes to him. If anyone should be sorry it’s you for questioning him in the first place and so you begin to ask for forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry for asking, Geto-sama.”

You feel him pulling you into his lap, his strong hands wrapping around your hips and the blood rushes into your face. Perching with uncertainty, your bottom rests against his thigh and it feels natural. All of the yearning couldn’t have prepared you for this feeling and you sigh as he brings one of his large hands to cup the back of your neck, his voice so close to your ear it makes goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Call me Suguru from now on,” he whispers, a secret for your ears only. You feel his lips press against the space where your jaw and neck meet, another secret for the two of you to keep. Everyone on the compound would view you differently if they knew this was happening but you don’t care. You can’t care, not when he’s running his palms up your waist and unfastening your robe.

The opened door with a view of the outside doesn’t concern you as Suguru’s deft fingers work at the knot keeping you decent, the same breeze that rustles his hair that has always reminded you of feathers blowing across your bare chest as the robe is worked down around your waist. Your nipple stiffens and Geto reaches to pinch it between his thumb and index finger, making you yelp.

“How long have you wanted this, my little bird?” He wonders aloud and you almost feel as if he isn’t speaking to you at all, he merely wants you to listen and to witness. “Since you met me?”

He knows the truth just as he knows the way you’re looking at him. Eyes lidded, cheeks puffed out, lips wet with your own spit. You’re never going to leave his side.

“Tell me the truth,” he pinches your nipple once more and you arch your back, lip jutting out at the roughness of the feeling. Nobody has ever touched you like this before and the feeling is electric. Despite the fuzziness in your brain, the heady arousal clouding your every thought, you wet your lips with your tongue and speak. 

“So long, Suguru.”

He smirks knowingly and lowers his head to suck your breast into his mouth, his warm tongue lapping at your skin. It’s nothing short of heaven, you think. This is how it always should have been. His hands travel from the dip of your waist to your hips, pulling the fabric of your robe further down to expose more of you to his hungry eyes. You reach out toward his face, your fingers tentatively brushing against his lower lip and he releases your nipple from his mouth.

“Can I touch you too?”

Another whisper, another secret. A predatory gleam shines in Suguru’s eyes and you wiggle against his lap, keeping your fingertips pressed against his mouth. He puckers and kisses them gently, reaching to grab your wrist. He places your hand against the bulge beneath his robes, covering your delicate fingers with his own.

“You can,” he uses his grip on your hand to press the heel against his hard cock and he hisses through his teeth. You admire the way his throat looks when his head is tipped back in pleasure, his Adam's apple bobbing. How is everything he does so effortlessly beautiful, you wonder. Your attention is recaptured by his voice. “But first, how long?”

Your wide eyed, parted lip expression only serves as further fuel for the blood pumping between his legs. You look so innocent, the same as you did when he felt the first of your defenses crumble, the day he approached you to come with him. It strikes him as funny that both times, your vulnerability is because he has put his hands on you. Nervously, you shift in his lap and he presses you closer to his body to keep you from going any further. 

“Since the first day,” you admit, to him and yourself for the first time. He smirks, molding your hand around his bulge and you squeeze. Another hiss from him is all you want, the noise motivating you to offer yourself further. Using your free hand, you slip out of your robe the rest of the way and for the first time, you're bare to his eyes.

"Look at you." Your face heats and you feel your posture collapse in on itself, shoulders slumping after being so seen. "Show me how well you listen."

His command drips with condescension but you’re too awed to notice. When you nod, he gently nudges you off of his lap and you tuck your legs beneath you. Watching as he rises, you stay seated and admire the way those same lithe fingers that were just caressing your overheated skin work at the knot in his own robes.

Those dark eyes glance down at where you kneel on the ground and he gently smooths his hand over the top of your head and slides it into place along your cheek to cup your face. Using his grip to force you to look at him, you do and appear dazed. Transfixed, perhaps, would be better. 

“I’ve always known,” Geto unfastens the knot in his robe fully and you gasp at the sight of his nude form backlit by dusk right outside the door. He’s tall and broad and you can’t look away. “That you would realize.”

Pumping his hand along his impressive length, you bite your tongue to keep from eagerly interrupting him. You want to touch him so badly, you have to sit on your hands like a child to keep from approaching sooner than you should. Before you can think any further about his words, he walks a few steps and the sticky head of his cock nearly brushes your soft, swollen mouth. 

“I knew it was you from the moment we met.” 

He hangs his head just low enough that you feel the words are truly meant just for you and you shiver. As you wait for further instruction, he squeezes your cheek and jaw in the palm of his hand. Your eyes don’t leave him once.

Suguru has always prided himself on his ability to break people down - to their core, their most base selves in every sense of the word. Usually there’s a moment where he can see in their eyes that they have been broken, cloudy and glossy. Yours have looked like that since he met you.

“This is what devotion gets you.” His words make you shiver as he uses his free hand to point the head of his cock at your lips, rubbing the sticky tip along your pouty mouth. Sitting still as stone and waiting for his directions, he gently pulls your face toward his pelvis and his tip pops into your mouth. A long, low moan leaves him and you squirm at the sound. “Just relax for me, okay?”

Suguru releases his grip on your cheek and moves to palm the back of your head, fingers finding an easy and natural grasp on your skull. You take a deep breath and look up at him with watery eyes and he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re perfect,” he breathes toward the ceiling and you tense slightly as he uses his grip to move more of his cock between your lips. “Stay relaxed, baby. It’s okay.”

Your head bobs slightly and he groans again and you wonder what it will take to get him to make that noise again, the deep guttural moan sending shockwaves to your clit. You want to rut against something, to feel the pressure release in your stomach and between your legs, but Geto is your first priority. 

Experimentally, you dip your face toward the dark hair at the base of his thick cock and you gag a bit as more of his length slips down your throat. The grip on the back of your head tightens and he gasps. Lifting your eyes in his direction for just a moment, you whine at the sight of him with his head thrown back in pleasure. Open mouthed, eyes shut tightly, every muscle in his neck bulging - you love it. If you were a more artistic person, you’d find a way to capture this forever but for now you commit the vision to memory and allow him to thrust his hips so that the remaining length of him dips fully between your lips. The tip of your nose brushes his pubic hair and you moan and gag around his length, tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes. Using the thumb of his free hand, Suguru brushes your tears away and it makes you sob and gag. 

“Oh, don’t give up on me now,” he comforts from above, brows furrowed as his hips jerk and your nose continually bumps against his pelvis. Finding a rhythm, he listens to the noises coming from between your lips with every stroke and he feels himself getting closer. His balls tense and his cock twitches and he isn’t willing to prolong the wait any longer than it has already been.

“Open up, keep your tongue out, just like that,” he instructs as he releases his cock from between your lips with a sticky and wet pop, jerking his hand along his spit covered shaft right above your lips and chin and nose. “Stay just like ahhh-,” his words are cut short with a pleasured shout as he shoots translucent ropes of cum across your spit soaked face. A splash lands across your tongue and you note the salty taste - something you’ll associate with just Suguru for as long as you live. 

Wrist pumping until he feels fully emptied, he takes a deep breath and covers himself halfway. His lean torso is visible and you feel your cunt throb at the sight and part of you wonders if he’s going to do the same for you - if he’ll kneel between your legs and worship your pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in days.

“Miguel, Manami, you can come in now.”

The deep voice filling your ears makes you scramble to cover yourself with your arms, your breasts and back bare to the open sliding door. The pair make their entrance and you keep your face pointed toward the ground, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. Suguru pats the back of your head as he walks back toward the tatami and sits, patting the spot next to him for you.

“Had some other business to take care of, please forgive my rudeness.”

You stay frozen in place but you can feel the eyes of your compatriots on your sticky face, remnants of Geto clinging to your cheeks.

Days spent on the compound are simultaneously mind-numbingly boring and some of the busiest you’ve ever had.

Each morning, you rise with the sun and watch her from the window that is on the wall opposite where you lie. Most of the time you are on your side, arms wrapped around yourself, in your bed or Suguru’s depending on the events of the evening prior. He most often has you visit him in his quarters and you appreciate the near luxurious gift of privacy on those evenings. It’s far less private in your own room, thin walls separating yourself and whoever is in the room next to yours, although everyone seems to know exactly what Geto uses you for and has since your arrival.

He honors you by allowing you to love him, you remind yourself while the dark thoughts swirling in you churn. They’ll be chased away by the sun and by his presence when he returns to his room where you lay. His side of the futon is empty, already made up as if he were never there, so you allow your mind to wander. If he’s feeling generous, maybe today he will have lunch with you or even better, he’ll finally allow you to begin training your cursed energy into something more than a never-ending sinking feeling in your guts.

He promised you a very long time ago he would help you learn about your own abilities. It seems ungrateful to still long for usefulness considering you know exactly what your role is, yet you can’t help but wish to find this key to understand yourself that seems to always be out of reach.

Tracking the time fell away from you long ago, not long after the first time you were intimate with the man you so dutifully serve. Autumn gave way to winter which faded into a difficult to remember spring followed by the once again balmy days of summer. Again and again and again. Cicadas ring out across the secluded surroundings of the compound morning to night. You blink as they instruct you to rise, singing a tune even more rehearsed than the mechanical beeps of the alarms you used to set on your phone. How long has it been since you’ve had a phone? 

Does it matter?

Months or years may have passed but you find that you don’t care all that much. Time passes the same without being able to watch it, a voice that sounds a lot like Geto’s reminds you in the back of your head. You are here forever as part of your purpose to serve his goals and time is just a construct.

When’s the last time you felt like yourself?

Last night, when his satisfaction was the only thing you had to be concerned about, you chide yourself silently. You sound ungrateful to your own ears even if you don’t speak, these endlessly appearing questions becoming more aggravating with each second that passes, and you are annoyed and angry when you rise from Suguru’s bed, re-knotting the tie of your yukata. The shoji is open and he stands just outside of it wearing a cotton robe of his own, sunlight silhouetting him. 

He’s a God, you remind yourself, though it doesn’t kill the bitter taste in your mouth the way it usually does. Shuffling toward the door, you take a deep breath and call out his name from inside, his face turning toward you. This makes the bitter taste turn into something sweet you wish to taste again, a soft smile replacing your uncertain frown. 

“Good morning,” he calls toward you, sweeping his hand out in front of you to indicate where he’d like you to be. You dutifully follow the wordless instructions and arrive at his side with a smile, squinting in the early morning light.

“Good morning, Suguru. How did you sleep?” Smiling down at you, he gently takes your hand. “As well as I always do when you’re in my bed.”

The compliment and his touch make you feel girlish, heat rising in your face. To be a God’s beloved concubine is an honor, one you rarely take for granted even in your weakest moments. He has given you purpose, motivation, and an understanding you would not have found in a world with people who are unlike you.

Yet that same pit in your stomach lingers. He can tell, narrowing his eyes when he glances at you again though you avert your gaze.

“What’s on your mind?”

A tight smile slips across your face, measured and careful; similar to the one you always give Manami when she’s swearing her devotion to him at dinner or after the congregation. You want to tell him the truth, to open up and make him understand your need to be useful, but the words stick inside of you.

“Nothing, I just didn’t sleep very well.”

It isn’t exactly a lie but he knows that it isn’t the entire truth and his blood runs cold wondering what you’re hiding. You are usually so placid around him, glassy eyes and subdued smiles with averted eyes, but he can feel the anxiety flaring from your body. Are you unhappy? Is the spell he has held over you weakening? Does he need to scare you into reminding you of where your place is, the way he has with so many others?

Tutting gently, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you to his side.

“Speak freely, I value everything you have to say.”

Lulled into a false sense of security, you look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“May I train with you today?”

Suguru laughs, lifting his hand and gently brushing his thumb against your chin. He’s always touching you when it’s just the two of you, hands rubbing your forearms or fingers pressed against your face. He’s a sculptor and what are you if not simply the clay he’s molding beneath his touch, smoothing out edges and reshaping you from the bottom up into something you aren’t sure you recognize anymore which is how he has always intended things to be. His perfect blank slate, he said so many years ago. There isn’t a time where you haven’t proven it to be true even if you need a reminder. 

“Why?”

The tone of his voice makes you feel foolish for asking and your sidelong glance turns to the ground beneath you. Subservience is a practice and one you tend to be good at, evidence provided in the form of your refusal to make eye contact even when he begins speaking again.

“I’ll protect you from anything that could hurt you. You know that, right?” He furrows his brow, one of his hands wrapped around your forearm while the other remains on your chin. “You are safe here. Nothing here can or would hurt you, not while you’re in my care. Isn’t that enough for you? You demand training so you can, what? Fight?” Chuckling and finishing with a haughty sigh, he shakes his head. “You don’t have a fight in you, little girl. You never have.”

Defenses faltering, you laugh to yourself and up at him, sensitive eyes once again squinting when faced with the grace of the higher being in front of you. Of course he’s keeping you from having to enter battles you aren’t equipped for, isn’t that what he has been doing this entire time? Protecting you from those shadows that have lurked over your shoulder and kept you from sleeping since you were a child, comforting you, blessing you. 

Your rudderlessness isn’t Suguru’s fault, it’s simply your own for assuming you know more than he does.

Nobody knows you like he does. They never will.

“Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”

You call him Suguru in pleasure and Geto-sama in exaltation, raising it to the heavens that put him on the earth. Moving to fall to your knees before him in apology for making him believe his protection isn’t enough, he stops you with a firm hand on your shoulder. His thumb digs into your collarbone, somewhere between painfully and pleasurably, and you remain standing on wobbly feet with a dumbfounded expression. 

“I already have. For everything.”

There is so much you’ve done since you’ve arrived, so much to be forgiven for. Questioning him, doubting your place with him, doubting others, speaking with a jealous tongue and thinking poisonous thoughts. You accept his grace with a smile, tears rimming your eyes. You have always been told that forgiveness grants freedom, the wind at your back and the sun on your face. You feel it on this day, gazing up at a man who has saved you time and time again despite your own folly. 

Nodding and sniffling, you shut your eyes to stop yourself from open mouthed sobbing in thanks. You don’t deserve this and never have.

“I’m going to tell you something I’ve told nobody else, okay?” 

The assertion that he still trusts you despite your disrespect makes you emotional again, eyes opening and tears falling while you nod. 

“I love you.”

I love your devotion to me, he means, though you’ll never read between the lines to consider that the truth is that you are just a pawn to a man you’ve dedicated your existence to pleasing. Your body, your words, even the way you enter a room have all been carefully trained to suit him. You’ve been broken by his hands and he is always in a hurry to remake you, fashioning you into something once again useful.

“That’s why you’re here, little bird. To be safe and loved, not to fight or grow jealous or be angry with me. Are you angry with me?” You shake your head quickly, leaning into his touch with furrowed brows. He drops his hand from your chin and wraps his arm around your waist. “Never, Suguru.”

“Then don’t ask about training again, understood? Trust me to take care of you.”

And trust you do, nodding and finally letting that open mouth sob escape. He does a bit more tutting and his large hands paw at your body, yanking at the knot keeping your robe closed, roughly cupping your breast when the fabric falls open. Tears drip down your cheeks and onto the back of his hand, just how he likes it, and his tongue pokes out from between his teeth as he glances down at you.

“Do you trust me?”

This isn’t even close to the first time that he has asked but he needs to know just how many pieces he has smashed you into. He flexes his hand, squeezing your breast, further punctuating the point he’s trying to make - every little bit of you is his to have, to control, to make, to break, to feel.

“More than anything, Suguru, I swear.” Your legs ache to once again fold and bring you to your knees, the way you best know how to prove your regret, but you remain standing, lower lip quivering. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Your apology is a mantra you repeat as his hand dips lower beneath your robe, grazing the soft skin of your stomach and hip. Roughly wrapping a hand around said hip, he pulls you against his body, cold glance locked on your puffy, wet eyes. Despite himself, he smirks down at you, head tilted to the side. His hair is a black curtain that falls over both of you, soft strands resting against your bare torso and arm. 

“Do you love me?”

You do not have to think about your answer though it shakes when it leaves your mouth, your lungs begging you to gulp down enough air to replace what you’ve let escape through sobs. 

“I love you so much.” You shake your head and sob again. “Please, please believe me”

You feel like a half-formed thing, ready to be made over however he sees fit. 

“I believe you, no need to cry,” he assures you, grip on your hip tightening. You breathe through your open mouth and he takes the opportunity to bring his thumb to your face once again, pulling your jaw down and widening your mouth. You know what’s coming next, heat stirring from deep within you despite your sorrow, before he even commands it.

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth and he spits down onto the muscle.You roll it back into your mouth in an instant, grateful for the opportunity to have even the tiniest piece of him in you, his eyes following your throat as you swallow. Communion, consumption of him to purify yourself from the inside out. The ultimate apology until he can use your cunt to fulfill himself later, although he wants to take you now, right here, inviting everyone out to see the work of a master craftsman.

Sobs gradually give way to less powerful sniffles, you squint up at him with your skin exposed and his touch and his hair and his scent and wonder what you were even wishing would happen in the first place. That he’d train you to do what, exactly? This is what you were meant to do.

“Do you feel better?”

You nod and he smiles down at you, the same measured smirk he always wears. He leans down and kisses your forehead, pulling up the sleeve of your robe to give you some semblance of modesty but leaving it open as he ushers you back inside, sliding the shoji shut behind him. Suguru crowds you into the room, leading his nearly lost lamb toward the futon while untying his own robe.

“Now, apologize like you mean it.”

Now, you fall to your knees, grateful he’s allowed you to show how sorry you are in the shadows of his room instead of by the light of the sun.

“War is on the horizon.”

Sitting with your legs tucked beneath you at Suguru’s side on the elevated platform at the front of the room, you keep your eyes downcast while he addresses his congregation. This is your role, it has been for a very long time now, and you’ve learned to ignore curious onlookers or newcomers who will never be able to fathom such fanatical love. 

You love him so much you silence yourself. You sit by his side, so quiet you may as well be nothing but air. You have never learned how to defend yourself or even delved into the curses that used to weigh you down; freedom from these responsibilities came in the form of surrendering yourself fully to him. Body, mind, soul, all tied to his whims. You are a puppet on a string and he is free to move you in whichever way he chooses.

Just the way you like it.

“I’ve officially made the declaration to Satoru Gojo himself.”

For the first time in years, you look up when you are meant to look down, the anxious murmuring of the crowd making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You know what happens when the congregation disagrees or questions their leader and he rises with a flourish, petting the back of your head gently before stepping off of the platform.

“Do I sense disagreement?”

Looking every bit the apex predator that he is, you dare keep your gaze trained on his back rather than the floor. His head swivels from one prostrate form to another, seeking out anyone who dares disagree with his plans. Foreheads touch the ground below them, the ultimate show of devotion, yet one head remains raised and Suguru chuckles as he approaches the newcomer.

You don’t know their name, you realize. You stopped bothering to learn the newcomer’s names given how little interaction you have with them. They’re nothing but faces to be forgotten about after they have spoken out of turn and met their end at the hands of the man standing with his chin held high.

“Is there something you’d like to say?”

Whatever boldness was previously etched into the face of the man kneeling before Suguru has very clearly disappeared but tension flares through the room regardless. You know that whatever choice he makes, however he chooses to deal with this foolish man, is exactly what he deserves. To spit in the face of God is bold and everyone has to learn their place eventually.

You certainly have.

“N-no, no. Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”

Suguru clicks his tongue, turning to face the rest of his family with his arms spread wide, face turned toward the ceiling. Your eyes are to be trained on the ground but you drink in the sight of him standing amongst the mortals who have always believed they know better than he does. 

“What do you think I should do to the non-believer today?”

The question is rhetorical. At least, the silent room treats it that way, no one rushing to answer. Everyone knows to only speak when spoken to, even the inner circle who welcomed you years ago keep their foreheads pressed to the ground. He quietly pads through the crowd again, headed back toward you, and your eyes meet the ground swiftly to avoid being punished for looking at him out of turn.

“Look at me.”

Yours are the only pair of eyes he ever truly cares to have on him. Following the command, you glance up at him, remaining with your knees tucked beneath you and your hands folded in your lap. The way he looks down at you is as tender as he will ever get, even his softness is cold and harsh, but he speaks loudly enough that even the room behind him can hear that he values your opinion above the rest of them.

“What do you think I should do with him?”

Smiling back at him, your glassy eyes meet his and you say exactly what you know he wants to hear.

“Kill him, Suguru.” 

Smirking, he reaches down to pinch your chin between his index finger and thumb like he always does when you are performing as expected. It isn’t a performance anymore, if it ever was, it’s simply the way you feel when it comes to those who oppose him. He wags your head back and forth before dropping the touch completely, turning around and leaving you facing his back. 

Your eyes dart toward the ground once more. You were not instructed to look at him.

Geto walks through the rows of people once more, reaching to touch the backs of each of their heads while he passes, finally stopping in front of his target. His hands rest in the opposite sleeve of each of them and he bends at the waist, offering the same smile he gives to all of his victims.

“Well, unfortunately, your fate has been chosen. You may as well speak now while you still have the chance.”

A curse materializes, brought to this realm by the man in front of you, and you keep your eyes trained on the ground while screams and the sound of the rending of flesh fill the congregation room.

You’ll only look up once you’re instructed, as always.

[charliespringsleftconverse]

Sweet Love Beneath The Christmas Tree - Chapter Two

Word Count: 3007 | Read on AO3

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Write's Notes: Here is Chapter Two of this little holiday trip! Can I just say, I also would like Azriel a man to put me on his shoulders so I can put the star on the tree?? What's a girl gotta dooooo! Anyway, hope you enjoy! @thevalkyriesshadow @acotargiftexchange

Warnings: This three-chapter story contains mature content such as smut in the third chapter. Reader discretion is advised. Age advisory 18+

The trunk of Rhysand’s sleek black Chevrolet Suburban overflowed with an impressive array of high-tech baby gear, a clear sign of new parenthood. She and Azriel fell into a comforting rhythm. They made quick work of unloading everything in just four trips. Once inside, they joined the others gathered around the inviting warmth of the fireplace. A train of elf shoes in every size and color was lined up in front of the hearth, while an array of musty socks—bright and bold—hung out to dry on the small brick step in front of the crackling warmth of the fire, to which Gwyn and Az added their own pairs.

Laughter and lively chatter filled the spacious open room with a ceiling high enough for a tiered ring chandelier to comfortably hold several layers of lighting. The rich, sweet scent of hot cocoa wafted from the kitchen and curled around them. Mor spritzed an apple pie air freshener, infusing the air to clear the room. In the kitchen, Emerie tended to a bubbling pot of hot chocolate, its chocolatey aroma mingling with the evergreen fragrance wafting from the elegantly adorned Christmas tree. For Gwyn, the moment felt like stepping into a postcard, a perfect snapshot of holiday cheer.

Nearby, Feyre and Rhysand stood side by side by the towering Christmas tree, framed by large glass windows that offered a dazzling view of their front yard, now transformed into a sparkling light show and a vibrant carnival. At their feet lay an old storage box brimming with ornaments, remnants of previous decorating efforts. One by one, Feyre and Rhys began filling in the few remaining empty spots on the tree that Nesta and Cassian had left earlier in the day. With all the preparations that had needed to be done throughout the day both inside and outside the house, the Christmas tree had been left partially decorated. Nevertheless, Feyre and Rhysand were content to pick up where the previous decorators had left off. 

The tree was adorned with sparkling lights from top to bottom and decorated with a blend of traditional nutcracker and ballerina ornaments, classic glittering Christmas ball ornaments, and souvenirs from individual travels from the group, including a small red and green trolley from Mor’s summer escapade in San Francisco last summer. Each ornament telling a story of its own. As they worked, the tree transformed into a radiant spectacle, a true testament to the joy and spirit of the season.

Though Gwyn had poured her festive spirit into the outdoor decorations, stuffing the yard with a delightful array of inflatables, she was still yearning for the chance to participate in something that felt truly special: decorating the Christmas tree in the living room. It was the one aspect of the holiday she had been eagerly anticipating. As she reached out for the final strand of garland—a beautifully crafted red rustic ribbon—she felt excitement bubbling inside her as she began to unwrap it.

“Here, let me help you with that garland,” said Azriel. His deep and warm voice came from behind Gwyn as he reached around her body, helping her unravel the ribbon. Being 6 feet tall had its advantages for Azriel, one of them being he could stand behind Gwyn and still see over her head. “Unless you want to end up tangled in it again."

Gwyn paused, soaking in his presence as he enveloped her, his chest pressing against her back. She peered up at him and chuckled, feeling completely at ease. She loved everything about this moment—his body wrapped around hers, the scent of Christmas in the air, and the sense of family with everyone she loved in the room. If she could capture this feeling, this sense of belonging and joy, in a photograph, a tiny bottle, or even in her mind forever, this moment would have been it. “Oh, now you’re just teasing me.”

Azriel bent down and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. It sent delightful sparks down Gwyn’s body and ignited her with warmth. 

Pulling the string from his fingers inch by inch, Gwyn took a step forward from Azriel’s embrace and began walking around the tree wrapping the garland. Azriel mirrored her and walked in the opposite direction around the tree, concentrating on the high branches that Gwyn couldn’t quite reach.

In the cosy living space, Rhysand and Feyre had joined Nesta and Cassian on the soft, enormous L-shaped champagne-colored sofa that occupied most of the living room. It was big enough to fit every single one of them on it, and it had many times. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Emerie and Mor were pouring hot chocolate into the festive-themed mugs that decorated the cabinets. For the most part, the mugs were decorative pieces, but once a year they would serve their true purpose and hold hot cocoa.

“I hadn’t even realized we were missing the star,” said Feyre, her head on her husband’s shoulder.

“I think it got lost last year after the boys took it into town on New Year's,” Mor replied without glancing up from her work. A popping sound came from the kitchen, yet not a single head turned. 

“I want what you’re having!” Yelled Nesta from the sofa. Mor was undoubtedly spiking her own drink with something from the bar.

Cassian and Rhysand exchanged glances as if communicating telepathically.

Do you have the start topper? 

No. 

Did we leave it at the bar? 

Oh shit. Didn’t we place it on the town Christmas tree while drunk? 

No, that was before we went to the bar and I know I carried that in—

“Found it!” Holding high for everyone to see, in her right hand Gwyn held a big bright golden star-shaped tree topper. It glimmered and sparkled even brighter beneath the lights of the glowing chandelier. Lights reflected off it and danced across the room like tiny dancing fairies as she turned the tree topper.

A collective sigh of relief was felt in the room.

“Alright, let’s get it up there before it goes missing again.” Azriel declared, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. 

“Let me get a step stool,” Gwyn suggested as she turned toward the kitchen.

“You don’t need a step stool,” Azriel replied, stopping her in her tracks. He turned her toward the tree and knelt behind her.

“What are you—” 

Gently nudging her legs apart with his hands and head Azriel was quick with his movements. Soon after, Gwyn found herself on his shoulders. Her feet instinctively wrapped around him wherever they could, and her hands grasped the top of his head for balance. After a moment, feeling a bit more stable, she relaxed into his touch when his hands came around her legs. Gwyn could feel her cheeks warming—she wasn't sure if it was the lights shining down on her or the surprise of the moment that was making her blush.

Azriel continued rubbing his hands up and down her legs. She was still cold from being outside, and that friction felt good. Trying not to think about heights, she focused on his touch. “You’re not going anywhere, Gwyn. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Gwyn took in a breath and giggled. “Ready.”

Azriel walked toward the tree, getting as close as he could for Gwyn’s torso to reach the placement point. Hands shifted higher, moving gradually closer to her thighs. In response, Gwyn squeezed his head slightly, but his grip remained steady. She instinctively sat up straighter, coming closer to the back of his head. Gwyn bit her lip, momentarily losing her focus. Breathe, and just focus.

Stretching her hand out, Gwyn reached toward the tree. Almost there… Her body let out a huff when she missed. Just a little to the left next time. She just needed to focus and stretch out a little more. Taking a breath in, Gwyn gave it another try. This time she felt Azriel’s thumbs rubbing circles on her thighs. Was it soothing? Yes. Was it distracting? Also, yes. Unclear what his goal was, Gwyn nudged him with her foot. 

Azriel chuckled. He was certainly being intentional and now Gwyn knew for certain.

“I’m trying to focus, you know,” Gwyn whispered.

“Am I distracting you? I thought I was helping,” said Az, low enough for the two to hear. She could hear his smile through his voice.

“I can’t concentrate when you do that,” she whispered.

Azriel hummed.

“You’re very lucky I love you,” Gwyn said.

Gwyn nudged him again with her foot before focusing back on the tree. With another big stretch, the star was back on the tree. Perfect. The Christmas tree was finally decorated from head to toe, figuratively speaking. Patting her on the leg, Azriel gently placed Gwyn on the ground and they headed towards the sofa with the rest of the group. 

“There’s glitter in my hair, on my clothes, and somehow, in my hot chocolate,” said Nesta. 

“I figured you all might need a little pick me up or just something warm in your body,” said Emerie handing Gwyn a mug in the shape of a Christmas tree. Sitting right next to her was Nesta holding a mug in the shape of Rudolph the red-nose reindeer. The kitchen cabinet had always been full of holiday coffee cups, courtesy of Rhysand’s mother, who had started the tradition of buying interestingly shaped mugs once a year during the winter. Now, they just drank from them. Rhysand had mentioned once that, according to his mother, a holiday house could never be too cheerful or cheerful enough. Hence, the excess of cups of cheer.

“The sun should be setting soon. Are you all headed to the village as Mr and Mrs Claus and the elves? Or as normal civilians?” said Rhysand. His violet eyes glanced at each member of the North Pole, one by one truly taking the time to admire the costuming. Rhys chuckled. There was not an ounce of doubt in his body that the outfits had been Mor’s idea. Ever since her time as an Alpha Phi in college, she’d always been one to coordinate outfits and ‘glam it up’ when she could. And this certainly had her name written all over it.

“Are you going to act like you don’t know us if we do?” Cassian smiled.

“I considered it,” said Rhysand with a chuckle.

“As much as I want to keep the spirit of Christmas alive, I’m sure I can still do that in normal clothes. Plus, I would love to take this off,” said Cassian. He pointed to the green vibrant tights that molded around his muscular calves and thighs. “It’s a little too tight for my liking.” 

“Hear hear,” said Azriel, lifting his glass and taking a sip. Pushing himself off the sofa, Azriel struggled to stand straight. He stretched out his legs and wiggled his feet, but something felt off. He placed his cup to the side for safekeeping. Taking one step forward, he felt a brief pain shoot to his ankle. Maybe he just needed to give his body a good shake. He had just been working outside in the cold for roughly two hours, and sitting down might have stiffened his body more than expected. 

Everyone else, save Feyre, Rhysand, and Gwyn had stayed behind. Upstairs, the others could be heard from the shuffling of feet and the opening and closing of doors as they set off to get ready and change into more comfortable and warm clothes. 

“Everything alright, Az?” asked Rhysand. 

“I, uh. Yeah.” Azriel furrowed his eyebrows looking down at his foot. He glanced back at Rhys and shrugged. “I think I’m just a bit stiff from all the work and then warming up by the fire.”

Rhys nodded.

“You could just need to warm up your muscles again,” suggested Gwyn.

“Maybe,” said Azriel. 

He attempted to rotate his ankle one way and then the other. It felt okay. Gently placing his left foot back on the floor, he made sure not to put too much pressure on it. Taking his time, Azriel began placing more of his natural body weight on it. It felt fine. Az let out a breath. At least it’s not broken, he thought. If it had been broken he would have been yelping from the pain by now. Feeling a bit more confident, he decided to take a step forward. That’s when he felt it. Immediately holding onto the sofa, he placed all his weight on his other foot. Gwyn and Rhys were up and out of their chairs in seconds. 

“It hurts to place my full body weight into it,” said Azriel. Both of his hands were on the sofa as he slowly lifted his foot and gently rotated it to alleviate some of the pain. 

“Sit down and let me take a look,” said Rhysand. His voice was firm but still showed concern. As soon as Azriel was seated, Rhysand knelt and lifted Az’s foot. He was slow when inspecting, in case there were any additional injuries. 

“Can you rotate it?” asked Rhys. Watching as Azriel did so, Rhys nodded and murmured to himself. He then began adding pressure with his hands and fingers across Azriel’s foot asking if the fluctuating pressure hurt, to which Azriel shook his head.

“Nothing too serious. Just a sprained ankle,” said Rhys as he stood. “That leg needs to be off the ground for a bit.”

The room was quiet for a bit.

Gwyn could feel the disappointment in the silence. She knew Azriel was a man of few words but she also knew that he didn’t want to miss out on the tradition of going into town on Christmas Eve to see the lights. Placing her hand on Azriel’s, Gwyn smiled. There was always space for new traditions. “I’ll stay with you.”

“Gwy—”

“I’m staying. We’ll drink cocoa, I’ll make cookies, and we’ll watch a holiday movie. Just you and me.” Gwyn tucked a strand of coppery hair behind her ear and gave Azriel a genuine smile. She could tell that Azriel didn’t want to be the reason she stayed behind, but Gwyn didn’t mind. They had the entire trip to go into town. It wasn’t like the holiday decorations in the town center were going to be taken down overnight. They’d be able to see the light show from now until the start of the new year. “Plus, who knows when the house will be quiet again. Or did you forget how many people there’s going to be here for the holiday?”

Azriel sighed. She was right, they would be living with about seven extra people who would be making noise, likely until late in the night for the next few days. There was no getting around Gwyn when her mind was set. “You’re right, and I do think it would be nice to spend time together. Just promise me you won’t put on Elf.”

“The Santa Clause?”

“Only if we watch The Santa Clause 2.”

“It’s my favorite anyway,” said Gwyn, a bright smile on her lips. With a kiss on the cheek, she was off to the kitchen to start baking cookies. Luckily, Emerie had stocked up on sugar cookies and chocolate chip cookies on her trip to the store. Gwyn much preferred these frozen delights that could be popped right into the oven over the ones in the ready-made section of the bakery. For some reason, the ready-made ones always tasted like paper to Gwyn. Had she been at home, Gwyn would have considered making cookies from Scratch but such luxury would have to wait.

After adjusting the oven to an adequate temperature, Gwyn began prepping the baking tray with an aluminum lining and buttering it before layering it with a mix of sugar and traditional chocolate chip cookie dough.

“Why are you making cookies, Gwyn? We’re about to leave,” said Emerie as she popped into the kitchen.

With a spoonful of cookie dough in her mouth, she mumbled, “Az can’t go.”

“Why not?” Emerie asked, confusion dancing in her eyes.

“He hurt himself,” Gwyn explained covering her mouth as she downed another spoonful of delicious chocolate chip cookie dough.

“Why am I not surprised? I specifically TOLD him to use the goddamn ladder when getting off the roof. Did he listen? No!” Mor stomped down the stairs. Azriel slid further down on the sofa shielding his face with a pillow at the sound of her voice afraid she’d chuck a heel at him. Sure enough, he had been warned numerous times.

“She’s going to sing that tune all weekend, brother,” Cassian said, patting Azriel on the back.

“Do you want us to bring you something from the town?” asked Nesta.

“No, but thank you,” Azriel replied.

“I wasn’t asking you. I was asking your girlfriend who kindly volunteered to stay behind, I imagine, given that she’s baking cookies for you both,” said Nesta, zipping up her gray jacket and looking back at Gwyn, awaiting a response.

“Ouch.” Cassian chuckled, tugging on his fleece chestnut gloves. 

Biting the inside of her lip, Gwyn tried to stifle her laughter and shook her head. She could have asked for a woodcarved pegasus for her bookshelf or apple cider donuts—her favorites. They were a soft, sweet treat that she could only find during this specific time of the year. Her mouth watered at the thought. Tempting, so tempting. The reality was, she wanted to experience the holiday village and markets herself. It simply wasn’t the same otherwise. Besides, there was always tomorrow. “I’m good, but thank you, Nes.”

“I’m gonna bring you something anyway,” said Nesta winking as she walked out the door. 

Gwyn chuckled. “Love you, Nesta!”

“We’ll be back late. Don’t burn the house,” Rhysand warned. He was joking, right? Waving goodbye to Gwyn, he closed the door on his way out. Gwyn waved back with one arm as she placed the tray of cookies inside the oven. He doesn’t actually think I could burn the house…does he?

[vilevexedvixen]

Inscryption cocktails

Each Scrybe would have a menu reflecting their three minions (increasing in size - a shot, a squat drink, then a tall drink) and then the main cocktail based off of the menu's titular Scrybe.

Each scrybe also has a dish relating to them and how they play their cards.

Thank you @dariusblake for your suggestions on different flavour profiles and placemat details.

Leshy's menu:

"The prospector"

A caramel whisky shot rimmed with golden nugget cereal crumbs. Modelled after the gold nuggets the prospector can transform cards into.

"The Angler"

A salted liquorish cocktail using anise flavouried liquior and fish-shaped gummy salted liquorish hanging over the rim of a bucket shaped recepticle. Modelled after the Angler's bait bucket card.

"The Trapper/Trader"

A rich, blood-red velvet cocktail made with red grenadine and a chocolate liquior. Served in a stein with a fake bit of pelt padding embellishing the handle. More modelled after his trading role than how he plays cards.

"The Scrybe of Beasts"

A botanical gin-based cocktail comprised of rhubarb gin, elderflower tonic and red grenadine seeping in from the top like a drop of blood, garnished with a sprig of elderflower. Served in a tall tiki mask glass (ideally etched to look like his masks, but a normal tiki glass would work) Playing into his tree-like appearance, emphasis on blood sacrifice (thematically and mechanically), and because he's an old man (hence use of elderflower specifically).

"Eight Fucking Bears"

Technically more of a food challenge than a regular dish of eight very spicy pork ribs with a thick, blood-like sauce.

Grimora's menu:

"Royal Dominguez"

A limoncello and triple sec shot rimmed with crushed sherbert. Based on his death from scurvy at sea.

"Sawyer Patel"

A stout Sheep Dog peanut butter whisky and ginger ale drink served in a tumbler lined with a dash of peanut butter drizzle.

"Kaycee Hobbes"

A refreshing blueberry vodka and fireball slushy served in a tall glass and garnished with blueberries and cinammon caramel drizzle.

"The Scrybe of The Dead"

A black forest espresso martini made with Kaluha, cherry vodka, chocolate liquior and a shot of espresso. Served in a china teacup with a pitted black cherry skewered on the teacup's rim.

"The Lord of Bones"

Fried chicken drumsticks and wings served in a coffin-shaped basket.

Magnificus' menu:

"Goobert"

Lime jelly(jello) shot. The shot glass would have little googly eyes stuck to it and an edible paper wizard hat instead of an umbrella.

"The Pike Mage"

A sweet and spicy chipotle-orange syrup, bourbon and vanilla liquior cocktail served in a martini glass and garnished with a skewered glacie cherry donning an edible paper wizard hat.

"The Lonely Wizard"

Black Sangria (made with dark wine - blackberries, black grapes and black plums) imbued with green edible glitter. Served in a wine glass and garnished with a lime slice donning an edible paper wizard hat.

"The Scrybe of Magicks"

A colourful tie-dye milkshake of creme de menthe, mint ice cream and strawberry cream liquieur embellished with edible glitter. Served in a tall flute and garnished with a swirl of whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles and a spherical marshmallow made to look like Magnificus' missing arcane eye in place of a cherry.

"Mox"

A dessert made of blue raspberry, orange and apple sorbet scoops. Sprinkled with crushed sherbert and gemstone-shaped hard candies.

Po3's menu:

"The Inspector"

A simple blue raspberry sour shot with a blue raspberry popping candy rim.

"The Melter"

A vibrantly fire-coloured chocolate orange spritz. Mixing chocolate liquieur with aperol and prosecco. Garnished with curled orange rind and dark chocolate shavings.

"The Dredger"

A boba blue gin fizz. Made of bombay sapphire gin, lemon juice blue curaçao and soda water with lemon boba. Served with a silver coloured straw.

"The Scrybe of Technology"

A bright blue bubblegum cocktail topped with sweet sparkling wine and lemonade. Served in a tall, angular glass. The most boring of the Scrybe cocktails tbh.

"Kilo-bites"

Byte-sized sharing platter of savoury pastries and square pizza slices made to look like floppy discs.

I'll be honest, I was drawing a blank for Po3's menu. Dude's Vox if Vox had self-control, which takes away a lot of vibrancy to bounce off of for flavour profiles and visual ideas.

Bonus Mycologist dish:

Roasted ox-tongue mushroom, stuffed with mushroom paté and blue cheese with a creamy but sharp cheese sauce.

Ngl, Leshy's is my favourite menu. Definitely tempted to make it, maybe for an Inscryption themed party?

[blitheringmcgonagall]

list 5 things that make you happy, then send this to the askbox of the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers! <3

Thank you @creeppiest 🥰🥰🥰 I usually say my family and friends so today I’ll change it:

1. Sunshine on a rainy day

2. My garden - it now has tall grasses, blue, white and pink flowers - scented roses, verbena, lavender, foxgloves, echinacea, anemones, hydrangeas, rosemary, butterfly bush, agapanthus; yellow and orange poppies & a few other wild flowers; two giant ferns, an apple tree, holly tree, wisteria and two Japanese acers that turn red and orange in the autumn. Okay so I’ve turned into Mia Potter, sue me!

3. Aperol Spritz outside in an Italian Summer

4. Sea swimming off the West of Ireland

5. Colours - slate green, mint, fern, sea green, slate blue, sky blue, teal, petrol, navy, dusty pink, mauve, ivory, mushroom, dove grey

[ladybuggirlxox]

6.1 ♡ finding my aesthetic pt 2

color: blue musician: lana del rey genre: alt rock/oldies art movement: impressionism - JMW turner, baroque - Bernini, realism - stephen sinding gemstone: pearl precious metal: gold time of day: dusk in summer, 11 am in winter alcoholic beverage: cosmopolitan, hugo spritz non-alcoholic beverage: green tea, hot chocolate fashion designer: Chloé, the row, luisa beccaria food: ham and cheese croissant dessert: vanilla ice cream, dark chocolate snack: apple and peanut butter article of clothing: jeans kind of technology: headphones style of undergarments: thong? place to hang out: my bedroom style of makeup: glowy, blushy, bright accessory: heart locket necklace perfume: YSL libre smell: vanilla+musk plant/flower: lily of the valley country in the world: italy city: NYC number: 16 movie: lost in translation tv series: sex and the city, parks and rec book: Inseperable object you own: elvis and marilyn lighter thing to do when youre by yourself: music + reading things to do with others: drive around listen to music actress: elle fanning, taylor russell actor: Bill Murray, Andrew Garfield time of year: summer, december time period: 1990s? climate: warm sunny southern architectural style: french country style? bar: no favorite restaurant: local italian restaurant

is this gonna be helpful? idk

Miss Ladybug ♡

[phoenixculpa]

soft flex

green ambroxan amber lavender aquatic, a

spritz where sway followed a mimi[cry] to

see what it’s like to-[“i can’t even”] there’s

a show to flutter, endless blue on your publicly

displayed apple watch one’s name unblocked

unlike her snapchat, brittaney thought one

had chicago-thick accent and we haven’t

spoke since it’s all cool to remember melting

pots of chocolate and modest lips sinking

hazel flippant, all too self conscious always

painted ink dripped amid glitter, read one

unfelt now and forever, a home owner

associative karen of talked — what was

that, substantive contemplation unrushed,

hardly skidding without much traction,

organized big ‘A’ feeling more solid

despite their shared namesake, i’ve

a blood pact without attachment

[icycoldninja]

Please come home (Genesis x Reader angst)

You awoke to the sound of your alarm clock blaring loudly; disturbing your slumber. Sighing, you rolled over and slapped the snooze button, eager to get that annoying beeping to go away. With a groan, you slowly sat up, rubbed your eyes, and found your eyes wandering over to a framed picture of you and your lover, Genesis, that you'd kept by your bedside ever since it was taken, demonstrating how dearly you treasured that memory. Feeling a wave of sad nostalgia wash over you, you picked up the picture and stared at it, somberly taking in every detail.

You and Genesis had been sitting under a Banora White tree, dark green leaves surrounding the ground around you two. You were lying on Genesis' chest; he'd had one arm draped around your shoulder, caressing it, while his free hand held LOVELESS, that book of poetry he adored so much. Both of you were smiling at the camera, looking so loving and peaceful in that moment.

You turned and looked back at your messy bed, seeing that the sheets were rumpled from where you'd been sleeping. Normally, Genesis would be lying on the other side of the bed; the sheets there would have been ruffled as well. But not today.

"Not anymore." You mumbled sadly, wiping your teary eyes with your hand. With a deep sigh, you placed the picture back down on the nightstand and stood up, trudging towards the window to pull back the shade and let some much needed light into your room. Despite the bright sunlight that soon flooded your room, you still felt as if the world was gray. Ever since Genesis deserted Shinra and left you all alone, the world had lost its shine.

"Why'd you have to leave, Gen?" You whispered, knowing full well he couldn't hear you.

"Don't you have any idea how lonely I am?" You sighed and turned away from the window, heading for the bathroom to freshen up and start what was sure to be a dreary day. As you entered the bathroom, you spotted some of Genesis' things--little possessions that reminded you of him. Two bottles of shampoo sat on the shower caddy, one (f/s) and one apple scented. Two toothbrushes sat in the cup by the sink, one (f/c) and one red. A bottle of your cologne/perfume sat on the bathroom shelf next to all your personal hygiene supplies, next to it was a bottle of fruity cologne. Genesis' cologne. Occasionally, during your loneliest nights, you'd spritz some of that cologne onto one of his old coats and snuggle with it, pretending it was him.

But even though it had his sent, it was not the same. Nothing was ever the same. You went through your morning routine monotonously; carrying on like a robot, going through the motions of the day as if you were programmed to do nothing else.

Later that night, after a long day of boring, soul-sucking, automonous work, you made yourself a cup of (f/d) and stared out the window, gazing down onto the bustling streets, watching couples as they walked together, holding hands and chattering away cheerfully. How you wished you could do the same with Genesis. How you wished he was there in that moment, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, clasping you against his body as he always did, nuzzling your neck and pressing kisses to your cheeks. You'd give absolutely anything to be able to experience all that again.

"Please," You whimpered, your voice cracking as tears rolled down your cheeks and the beverage you were holding crashed to the floor. You dropped to your knees, buried your face in your hands, and broke down into wailing sobs.

"Please, angel, please come home."

[azareeart]

Once upon a time, on the 2nd of March, amidst the green & rustic atmosphere of Barndoor beer garden in Osu, Accra, a litty time was had- Plant and Sip with Azaree. This love affair was a fusion of mixology and plant care, a carefully crafted experience.

We started with the Mix and Sip sessions, where participants made their own cocktails under the expert guidance of yours truly. Two delicious cocktails graced the menu: the Sweet Berry Lemonade and the Ginger Lemonade. The Sweet Berry Lemonade is a burst of flavors with sweet and sour notes, muddled fresh mint leaves, apple liqueur, berry gin, and a touch of mixed fruit jam, all topped off with a spritz of sprite. Our favorite thing about this girl is her deceptive sweetness, it's sneakily sweet yet packs a punch!

The latter, an original Azaree fan favorite but now with a local twist, featured homemade ginger syrup, zesty lemon juice, coconut vanilla syrup for a hint of sweetness, and the bold essence of ginger liqueur. What set this drink apart was its alcoholic base - the renowned Ghanaian spirit, Akpeteshie, made from fermented Palm wine adding a distinctive depth to the libation. This combination was to die for, and we absolutely loved hearing all the great reviews!

Transitioning from mixology to horticulture, we switched the conversation to plant care. Fresh cuttings of pothos and monstera were our green friends for the day, teaching us about nurturing new roots and ourselves. Sourced from Ahaban (ahabangh.com), these cuttings require a very simple routine; changing the water weekly until they sprout roots fit for replanting in soil.

Our favorite twist was that this nurturing ethos extends beyond plants into self-care rituals. Each water change becomes a gentle reminder to indulge in personal rejuvenation. Participants opted for diverse self-care practices, from long walks to soothing body scrubs, highlighting the importance of reconnecting with yourself no matter how crazy life gets.

The laughter-filled photos captured the Plant & Sip essence perfectly - great vibes, new skills, and a whole lot of fun. It was so clear that the experience fostered a deeper connection to nature and self-care.

We’re still savoring the amazing event, & we can’t wait to see you all at the next one, ‘See Thru My Ice,’ a nature photography and cocktail tasting experience. It will be an amazing evening celebrating the natural beauty of Ghana & the rich flavors of our Culture on the 30th of March at Buro in Osu. Hope to see you there 🥂

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Pherusa (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- The Golly Goddess, Bearer of Fruits by the people of Olympius

Mom by her daughters

Age- 37 (immortal)

Location- Arcadia, Olympius

Personality- She's a bubbly goddess with a carefree aura. She's creative, free-spirited, & close to nature. She's a lesbian and is casually dating.

She has the standard abilities of a goddess except shapeshifting. As the goddess of substance & farm estates her other powers/abilities include karpokinesis (fruit manipulation/generation), juice manipulation, limited photokinesis, being able to telekinetically control farming equipment, limited chlorokinesis (as it pertains to hay & grass), and limited atmokinesis.

Pherusa is the mother of the seasonal goddesses- Thallo (goddess of spring & new growth), Auxo (goddess of summer, vegetation, & plants), and Carpo (goddess of autumn & fruits).

She lives in the state of Arcadia in a french style cottage. There's a few acres of farmland along with a LARGE orchard (meant for fruit production). The interior design of the cottage is very romantic and provençal with a mix of vintage and country furniture pieces, a color palette of cream, beige, tawny, pale blue, & pastel yellow, artwork with pastural or natural themes, natural hardwood flooring, and toile de juoy patterns on wallpaper & curtains.

In addition to the farm animals, she has an animal companion- a female griffin named Honey. Honey is Pherusa's usual mode of transportation when traveling great distances, like visiting her daughters in New Olympus or visiting faraway friends. She mostly gets around in her classic 70's style bright orange VW beetle.

She always starts of her mornings with a session of yoga.

Instead of lotion, she moisturizes her skin with coconut oil.

Pherusa loves her "chickadees." She doesn't play favorites and loves her daughters equally. Pherusa not only makes it a priority to spend time as a family, but also individually- whether it's surfing with Auxo, bike riding with Thallo, or going to the farmer's market with Carpo. They also play music together with Pherusa being a featured artist on The Gypsy Belles' bonus track "Prairie Poets" on their album A Vintage Year.

She can play the acoustic guitar, autoharp, & the dobro!

A typical breakfast for her is belgian style whole grain waffles topped with cottage cheese, sauteed apples, maple syrup, and cinnamon sugar along with a fruit salad parfait & scrambled eggs added with sausage, onions, peppers, and tomatoes. She also likes several slices of lightly toasted white bread topped with butter & different kinds of fruit marmalades. From her own cereal brand her favorites are the summer berries flavor, the vanilla spice flakes, the apple cinnamon o's, and the oatmeal peanut butter.

Pherusa keeps her red hair in a neck length lob. She likes the Glory's Crown citrus and herbal musk shampoo & conditioner as well as the apricot oil hair spray.

Instead of perfume, she prefers to use fruit essential oils (behind her ears, inside her wrists, on her ankles, between her bosom, and on the side of her neck). Her favorite essential oils are the pink grapefruit, passionfruit, cherry, & apple.

Pherusa's closet consists of form hugging dresses, wedges, platform sandals, flowy mini skirts, bright colors, bold patterns, high waisted flare pants, and peasant blouses.

A go-to drink for her is her homemade carrot juice. She also likes coconut water, watermelon juice, citrus infused mineral water, iced tea, peach lemonade, ginger ale, pomegranate tea, lychee-passionfruit boba tea, red sangrias, aperol spritzes, orange soda, appletinis, cherry sazeracs, seabreeze cocktails, and champagne. Usuals from The Roasted Bean include a large iced green tea & an olympian sized fruit punch splash.

Pherusa's favorite makeup products to use is the Olmorfia blush powder in "strawberry crush", the plumping lip glaze in "persimmon" (a bold reddish brown), and the Museology UV liquid eyeliner in "electric shock", a bright neon yellow.

Her ultimate guilty pleasure is a large pizza topped with pineapple, yellow peppers, & jalapeños.

Pherusa's primary source of income comes from her cereal brand Golly Grains, the 2nd most popular after Earthly Harvest. Golly Grains' animated commercials and online ads are quite popular as well as its slogan- "A golly way to start your day!" To help out her daughters, she models for their clothing brand Treis Epochés.

From The Bread Box, she likes the chicken salad sandwich along with a watermelon feta salad.

Some of her favorite frozen treats include pineapple coconut ice cream, mango sorbet, and pomegranate sorbet.

In the pantheon Pherusa has a deep friendship with most of the agricultural deities like Demeter (goddess of the harvest & agriculture) and Eunostos & Promylaia (goddesses of the flour mill). Pherusa is the noná to Krysothemis (Kristy), the daughter of Karmanor (demi-god of the harvest). Her best friend is his sister Karme (demi-goddess of the harvest). Pherusa loves traveling to Eleusis to see her, looking forward to her delicious corn pudding! She even views Eubouleus (god of the swine & ploughing) as a father figure.

She's also friends with Kéfi (goddess of mirth), Apheleia (goddess of simplicity), Oeno (goddess of berries & wine), Thilasmós (goddess of nursing), Anatole (goddess of sunrise), Damia (goddess of naturalness), Elais (goddess of oil), Spermo (goddess of grains), Nymphe (goddess of self-care), Rhapso (goddess of sewing), Hestia (goddess of the hearth), Philotes (goddess of sex, friendship, & affection), Pan (god of the wild, satyrs, shepherds, & rustic music), Livádi (goddess of meadows), Eváeros (goddess of air & the zodiacs), and Záchari (god of confectionery).

She loves snacking on plaintain chips.

Her and Thilasmós often bond over about the attention and comments they get due to their ample chests.

Pherusa went to New Olympus Fashion Week for the first time last year when Rhapso got her & Eváeros exclusive front-row tickets.

She appeared once in a nude spread for Zeus' mens' magazine. Her photoshoot "broke the internet" for a few minutes when the images made its way on Fatestagram.

Some of her favorite desserts are Záchari's honeyed fig crostatas (dusted on top with an extra helping of powdered sugar), Eváeros' ambrosia salad, Karme's peach bourbon upside-down bundt cake, and the orange lemon pound cake from Hollyhock's Bakery.

As for her love life, Pherusa is enjoying her singledom and meeting new people. Her last serious relationship was with an anthousai named Amaryllis. Pherusa has a few dating apps on her smartphone- also having gone out on more than one date with a maenad named Rhiannon.

A couple of months ago Pherusa flew to Cyprus to hang out with Philotes. They had fun at a nightclub, got a bit tipsy, and ended up making out on the dancefloor. Things got steamier when Philotes went down on her in the nightclub's bathroom. Days later, Philotes reached out to her to "clear the air" with them admitting their attraction to each other. Pherusa was taken aback when Philotes offered up the idea to sleep with each other while her husband Priapus (god of fertility, vegetable gardens, livestock, sexuality, & masculinity) watches, without participating. She hasn't given her an answer yet.

Pherusa has a growing collection of Diamond Ave. fruit themed jeweled clutches. She herself was able to get the orange slice one (which costs 4,000 drachmas) while Karme got her the peach shaped one. As a summer solstice gift last year, Rhapso got her the pineapple shaped one!

In her free time she enjoys sunbathing, gardening, swimming, cooking, baking, bike riding, reading, shopping, spending time with her daughters, golf, fishing, and spending time with her friends.

Her favorite meals include chilled peach soup with fresh goat cheese, roasted lamb chops with a cherry glaze, and coconut chicken curry with white rice.

"If you eat today, thank a farmer."

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

OMG THEY'RE HERE!! TANGERINE DREAM AND ROCKET POP!

I also had the Green Apple Spritz, but I don't care about the purple and pink one cause I didn't have those in high school. If anyone wants the purple or pink one, I would be willing to try and send it to you free of charge. As long as it doesn't cost me much to ship it, I just want someone to have them that will appreciate them like I appreacite the fuck out of the TANGERINE DREAM AND ROCKET POP!!!

Bonne Bell Flip Glosses (I only know the green is Green Apple Spritz, the orange is TANGERINE DREAM, the blue is Rocket Pop.

2000

My personal picture from my collection

[officialluvmilk]

Slightly better news than my last post, but these are the new scents coming to the General Catalog on January 26th, 2023 💝🐰

Bubble Tea Sprites: Honeydew, strawberry, and white rabbit taffies with taro bubble tea.

Clowning Around: Fresh, buttered, caramel popcorn, salty peanuts, tufts of blue cotton candy, and taffy apples.

Enchanting Blood: Refreshing lime, lemongrass, grated ginger, and green tea.

Floralia: Sweet magnolia, peonies, acai flowers, fresh arugula, and basil.

Hinokami Kagura: Burning wood, cool spearmint, fir trees, incense consisting of ginger, clove, lavender, anise, and sandalwood.

Moon Dust: Peach nectar, tart raspberries, buttercream frosting, magnolia blooms, sponge cake, whispers of honeysuckle and jasmine.

Set Your Heart Ablaze: Fresh orange, peppercorn, toasted rice, a cinnamon glaze, aged oak, and vanilla musk.

Sun Breathing: Sage, apple, pecan, blooming magnolias, a hint of persimmon, nutmeg, grated cinnamon.

Wisteria Crest: Fragrant wisteria, bamboo, green tea leaves, moss, a spritz of grapefruit, and mellow ube.

All of these were previously available either as Patreon scents or for exclusive collaborations with other brands. Now, you'll be able to grab them in any product (including Perfume Oils) any time, starting at the end of January.

Please note that these scents are NOT available until January 26th and this is just a heads up on what to look forward to.

[nancypullen]

Countertop Eve

 I’m as excited as a kid at Christmas. We get our countertops tomorrow! After nine months in this house the kitchen will be finished! I spend a big chunk of my time in that room and it will finally feel like mine.  I cook a lot, I mean a lot, and I like my work space to be pretty and functional.  I don’t think that’s asking too much. These new countertops will stand the test of time. Since we’re on the topic of kitchens and cooking. I have decided that I am part elephant...or maybe panda. They eat tons of veggies and stay plump, and I am living proof that humans can do that too.  Most of my snacks and meals are made up of fruits and veggies.  This is what my cart typically looks like when I’m shopping -

Top to bottom - a bag of apples, blueberries, bananas, broccoli, green beans, romaine, 2 packages zucchini, carrots, celery, there’s a bag of basmati rice, two pounds of lean ground turkey, chicken breasts, and salmon.  Those two cans are extras to go into a big pot of vegetable soup.  Did I also cruise down the candy aisle and pick up a bar of dark chocolate with sea salt? Guilty.  But that cart usually feeds us for a about a week.  It’s not keeping me thin, but it is keeping me healthy. Knock on wood!  I guess I’ll have to be content with that. Quick snack - just cukes with a tiny sprinkle of Maldon salt. I love baby cukes and a big bag is usually under three bucks.

Those green beans? I’ll roast a bunch and eat ‘em for lunch. I spritz just a little olive oil, a sprinkle of sea salt, and then a few shakes of this black urfa chili.  It creates a deep, almost smoky flavor.

I roast them until they’re blistered then I squirt a half tablespoon of garlic aioli (yes, I know I could make my own, but this is soooo easy) into a dish for dipping. I swirl it around to make it look like more - who do I think I’m fooling? It’s delicious.   So 45 calories for the aioli and whatever is in that spritz of olive oil. I probably burn 45 calories loading the dishwasher. 

  Here’s a more fattening veggie dish, but not by much. Slice some zucchini lengthwise, lightly salt it, and leave it to sweat for about 20 minutes. Dab off the water.

Spray a pan with olive oil and plop them in face down until they’re nice and brown.  

Turn them over and pop them into a 400 degree oven for a few minutes. While that cooks, grab some fatty and flavorful toppings.  I chose reduced-fat feta, red pepper flakes, and my bff, garlic aioli.  No, I don’t eat it every day. Only on days when I want to be happy.

A schmear of aioli on the plate is enough.

An extra  sprinkle of red pepper flakes doesn’t hurt either.  When your zucchini is done (we’re talking just a few minutes, you don’t want it mushy!) plate it and give it a crumble of feta and more flakes.

This was a delicious and filling lunch.  Just because I followed it with a square of dark chocolate for dessert doesn’t negate the fact that my lunch was less than 200 calories; 45-ish for the aioli, about the same for the feta, and then the olive oil.   One medium zucchini is 33 calories. I probably burned that while cooking it.  The feta is a good source of B vitamins, calcium and phosphorus - so it’s almost medicine, right?  Like I said, I’m round but very healthy.

That said, it’s time for more water and something yummy for lunch.  Dinner tonight is salmon and roasted broccoli.  Lunch is probably going to be veggies.  Mostly because it’s good for me, but also because my husband can’t stay out of Craft Bakery!!

I think he’s trying to kill me.  He went out this morning to take photos and came home with a haul from the bakery.  My only real weaknesses there are her quiche and the blackout cookies.   This plate doesn’t tempt me.  The quiche is roasted potato, caramelized onion, and cheddar and it’s sitting in the frig calling my name. Pray for my salvation.

Me too, Mae, me too. With that in mind I’m going outside in the sunny 46 degree weather to try to clean up that scraggly tree line and pull some ivy off trees.  I can’t hear the siren song of the frig out there.  I’m thinking of spring and what I want to see when I look out the windows to that back yard.  My itty bitty Jane Magnolia has buds, it survived the winter!  In a few years I’ll have a pretty pink tree out there.  If I want to live to see it I’ll avoid the quiche.  My good genetics can only carry me so far. I hope that you’re having a lovely Thursday and can get outside and turn your face to the sun. We’re already seeing longer days and I’m a fan.  There are daffodils up all over town and that always puts me in a sunny frame of mind. March up here came in like a lamb, so she may exit like a lion - but her sweeter sister, April, is waiting in the wings.  Here comes the sun, folks!

Sending you love & sunshine! Nancy

[hartfox]

Best Vape Flavors in Nairobi, 2024

In Nairobi, vaping has become more popular, particularly among young people seeking to have a good time socializing and using them as an alternative to traditional cigarettes. The trend has been fostered by the availability of premium vape devices and a wide range of e-liquid flavors. The vape market in Kenya has made it easy for enthusiasts to browse a wide variety of vape products. This article delves into the best vape flavors to purchase in Nairobi and the best-selling vape flavors in Kenya. 

 

Best-selling Vape Flavors in Nairobi

The best-selling vape flavors in Nairobi include;

 

Fruity Vape flavors

Vapers in Nairobi appreciate a good fruity blend. Popular fruity vape flavors include;

Watermelon Ice: as a vape flavor combines the juicy sweetness of watermelon with a refreshing icy finish. This combination makes it a popular choice, especially for those who enjoy light and cooling flavors. It is likely favored by users in Nairobi for its balance of sweetness and refreshment.

 

Strawberry Cosmo: A sweet and tangy strawberry mix with hints of citrus flavor that has a balanced and refined taste, appealing to those who enjoy a more nuanced and layered vaping experience. It's likely a popular choice for vapers who appreciate fruity blends with a slight twist of complexity.

 

Peach Ice: It’s a sweet and juicy essence of ripe peaches with a cooling icy kick. Peach ice flavor offers a refreshing and flavorful vaping experience.

 

Blueberry Razz Ice: It describes a vape flavor that combines the sweet and slightly tart taste of blueberries and raspberries, enhanced with a cooling effect. This flavor is likely popular among vapers who enjoy fruity profiles with a touch of iciness for a smoother and more invigorating sensation.

 

Pineapple Ice: A tropical delight that pairs juicy pineapple with an icy finish. It describes a vape flavor that highlights the vibrant, sweet, and tangy taste of pineapple, enhanced with a cooling menthol or icy sensation.

 

Grape Ice: It describes a vape flavor that delivers the sweet and slightly tart essence of grapes, complemented by a cooling menthol or icy effect.

 

Spritz: A vibrant blend inspired by the classic Aperol Spritz cocktail, offering citrusy and slightly bitter notes with a sparkling finish. It describes a vape flavor crafted to emulate the taste of the Aperol Spritz cocktail.

 

Mint Vape Flavors 

Manhattan Mint has to be the best-selling mint vape flavor in Nairobi. It describes a vape flavor that combines a rich, refreshing, cool sensation of mint that leave you with a fresh and clean finish. 

 

Exotic and Unique Vape Flavors

These particular vape flavors are for vape users who are adventurous. 

Ice Appletini Vape: A cool and zesty apple blend inspired by the classic cocktail. It describes a vape flavor that takes inspiration from the Appletini cocktail, blending the tartness of green apples with a refreshing and icy sensation.

 

 Polar Energy: This vape flavor combines menthol with a burst of energy drink-inspired flavor for a unique vape. It describes a vape flavor that mixes the cool and refreshing sensation of menthol with a taste reminiscent of energy drinks.

 

Main Takeaway from Best Vape Flavors in Nairobi

Nairobi's vaping scene is flourishing, with a remarkable array of flavors to suit every taste. There is something to fit every taste, whether you prefer fruity, minty, or exotic blends. Vapers can find options that precisely suit their tastes. The best vape flavors in Nairobi can be found in most of Nairobi’s vape stores such as the Hart Vape store. With so many intriguing flavors to choose from, vaping in Nairobi is sure to be a tasty experience.

[sweatytyphoondinosaur]

DIY Solutions: Home Remedies for Dry Skin on Dogs

Is your furry friend scratching incessantly? 🐶 Dry skin on dogs can be a real pain, but don't worry! Natural Home Remedies has got you covered with some paw-some solutions to soothe your pup's itchy skin. 🌿

The Itch That Won't Quit: Understanding Dry Skin in Dogs

Dry skin in dogs is more than just an annoyance – it can lead to discomfort, infections, and even behavioral changes. Common causes include:

Allergies

Nutritional deficiencies

Weather changes

Excessive bathing

Underlying health conditions

Fortunately, there are several natural remedies you can try at home to provide relief for your four-legged friend.

Oatmeal: Nature's Itch-Buster

Oatmeal isn't just for breakfast – it's a powerful skin soother for dogs too! Here's how to use it:

Grind plain, unflavored oatmeal into a fine powder.

Mix with warm water to create a paste.

Apply the paste to your dog's dry patches and let it sit for 10-15 minutes.

Rinse thoroughly with lukewarm water.

This treatment can help relieve itching and reduce inflammation[1].

Coconut Oil: The Multi-Tasking Miracle

Coconut oil is a natural moisturizer with antimicrobial properties. It can be used both internally and externally:

Add a teaspoon to your dog's food for a shiny coat and improved skin health.

Gently massage a small amount directly onto dry patches.

Remember, a little goes a long way – too much can lead to greasy fur[2]!

Apple Cider Vinegar: The pH Balancer

Apple cider vinegar can help balance your dog's skin pH and fight off yeast and bacteria. Try this simple spray:

Mix equal parts water and apple cider vinegar in a spray bottle.

Spritz onto affected areas, avoiding open wounds or raw skin.

Allow to air dry.

This remedy is particularly effective for dogs with yeast-related skin issues[3].

Chamomile and Green Tea Soak

These calming teas aren't just for sipping – they can soothe your dog's skin too!

Steep several tea bags in a quart of hot water.

Allow to cool completely.

Pour over your dog after bathing or use as a soothing compress on irritated areas.

The antioxidants and anti-inflammatory compounds in these teas can provide quick relief[1].

Vitamin E: Nature's Moisturizer

Vitamin E is a powerful antioxidant that can help heal dry, damaged skin:

Break open a vitamin E capsule and apply the oil directly to dry patches.

Add vitamin E-rich foods to your dog's diet, such as leafy greens or fish oil supplements.

Regular use can improve skin elasticity and promote healing[2].

The Power of Prevention

While these remedies can provide relief, prevention is always better than cure:

Brush regularly: This distributes natural oils throughout the coat.

Balanced diet: Ensure your dog is getting enough omega-3 fatty acids.

Proper bathing: Use dog-specific shampoos and don't bathe too frequently.

Humidify: In dry climates, consider using a humidifier to add moisture to the air.

When to See the Vet 🏥

While these home remedies can be effective, it's important to know when professional help is needed. Consult your veterinarian if:

The dry skin persists despite home treatment

You notice excessive hair loss, redness, or open sores

Your dog seems unusually uncomfortable or in pain

There are signs of a more serious skin condition

Remember, these remedies are meant to complement, not replace, professional veterinary care.

Wrapping Up

Dry skin doesn't have to be a constant battle for your furry friend. With these natural remedies and a little TLC, you can help your dog feel comfortable in their own skin again. 🐾

Don't forget to subscribe to Natural Home Remedies for more paw-some tips on home remedies for dry skin on dogs keeping your pets healthy naturally! 🌟 And remember, a happy dog means a happy home. So let's get those tails wagging and those coats shining! 🐕💖

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[crulwrld]

Fly Chick

I put on a new skin-tight peony pink spaghetti strap from Salvation Army. The girls were sitting nice today, it really always depended on the day. Luck of the draw. Shimmied into black denim cutoff daisy dukes, a brown leather cowboy belt with an ornate buckle, grey Uggs without socks. I never wore undergarments, I was a free bird. I spritzed on some Nicki Minaj Pink Friday perfume while checking my reflection. Put on a crucifix necklace. I had written “Fly Chick” in orange Expo through the dust on the mirror. I massaged my bleach-scorched scalp with my acrylics in spiral formations, then straightened my locks with them, careful not to break off any of the tangles. They ended coarsely at my collarbones. I puffed them up at the roots and they stayed that way.

“What a Jagged Little Pill,” I said into myself.

I took two Klonipin and pocketed my concealer, my cotton candy Chapstick. Hit the road.

I had few plans for today. Priority was to get my meth from the dealer. I had dinner with my daughter for her twentieth birthday. That was it.

I love to blast Fiona Apple with my big square sunnies on. I am forty and I am a bad bitch, two things can be true. I own a torn-up convertible, it fell into my possession after my husband passed from an overdose. I grabbed the wheel and screamed into it, I felt like a singer in my car, and felt good about the drivers around watching me. They wish, I thought. It’s been my dream to be a performer. Since I can remember I’ve been a little extra. I’d flick my cigarette in the wind with a straightened upward arm and swing my head around on my neck until the light went green. I imagined myself as a Kesha character with a hint of Bjork. A badass brooding fly chick. 

My dealer was only available via Snapchat. He lived in this rinky dink house behind the movie theatre, which looked like it was collapsing on itself and into the ground. A blue tarp veiled the roof à la hurricane damage. Once, before I was widowed and got paid for it, I let him fuck me because I had no drug money. A wet spot in the roof leaked rhythmic drops onto the back of my skull as I lay there, stone cold, letting out genuine grunts of pain. Skinny guys always have the lankiest dicks. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but, hey, the ends and the means are one. 

He sent out an old wobbly man to do his dealing. His skin was burnt to a dark crust and he wore the same, increasingly sour wife-beater that hung off his bony torso and crinkled at his wide hips, I never made direct eye contact. Those were cursed, sad eyes. He looks like a person that someone just left on the side of the street to crawl out of a Dr. Pepper can one day. He’d shake my hand, we got very good at exchanging the crystals and the money in one slick movement. 

“What you got going for you today, sweetheart?” He asked.

I started pulling out of the gravel driveway. 

“Watch out for them opps,” He said, flagging his hand above his head. 

Gross me out, I thought.

I had this extra-large styrofoam cup I kept in my car that had one dollar refills on it at the gas station by my trailer. I’d fill her up three times a day with Coke and be on my merry way. I wouldn’t even acknowledge the workers, just drop four quarters or less and get out of there. 

There was one worker though, named Deep. He was Egyptian and had eyebrows that looked like they were made of black silk and a thick nose with frizzing in the nostrils. I saw that sniffer and knew I needed to pop a squat. He had a neck tattoo that said “2000,” I would click my snake eye tongue piercing at him on the front of my teeth and he’d swoon. He was shorter but I didn’t mind. 

“You’re like a princess,” He said one day.

“Prove it,” I said, and wrote my phone number on a napkin then slid it across the counter. Flexed my mouth around the straw of my extra-large Coca-Cola. 

He immediately got to his phone and called me.

“My number,” He said, smiling, cat eyes wide and perked, head nodding, whole body jittering.

Deep, my husband, and I all had a threesome. That was the first time I fingered a man. It was funny to do with a sharp nail. Almost clinical. My husband was a bitch about butt stuff. He was fucking strange, he kept this Tupperware container of semen from the condoms of all the dudes we’d fuck within the freezer. Like, what do you need that for? I was relieved when he left this Earth, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t choreograph it. The day he died was the day I found out I had a tolerance of steel. His lips started to turn blue and I was all like, 

“Oh yay, oh yes! Yes yes yes!” 

It was like watching the clock strike twelve on New Year’s. A breath of fresh air. Finally. 

Today, after I got my Coke, I had all this time to kill before I went to eat with my daughter. There was a horrible storm falling outside. I sat cross-legged on the trailer carpet and ate some of the meth. Took some shots of Jack. So warm, so cozy.

I spread my hands around the floor in oval patterns and it felt like it was crawling right back at me. I tugged and felt the carpet lift, the space of levitation in between carpet and whatever wood was underneath, I wanted to tuck my body in that liminal space and rest, feel the micro threads weasel their way into each of my follicles. I imagined what I might look like from above in that state. Carpet woman. I prayed the rain got harsher so I could do this for hours and I wouldn’t have to go to dinner with my daughter. I wanted someone to go on a date with me, but it not be my daughter, and the date be here, clawing the carpet together. I ate some more meth. My lips got to smacking and chewing. 

I wondered how many years were lived on this carpet, and if the energy of lives past were slithering from the ground and up my arms. It could be possible that I was transmitting something. Becoming super all-knowing. 

Think of a family, now think of how long a family stays in one place, five to ten years, yes? People who have moved out and in, people who have visited, on average that’s probably one hundred people. Multiply that family times five hundred years. Now, who knows what? If two people with opposing perspectives stood in the same place, where I’m sitting, and I focus on alchemizing that opposition, bringing Fire and Water together, pointing towards the past, pointing towards future, I do it now, outstretching my arms to perfect balance like a scale, I can harmonize that frequency, be a conductor, a flash of temperance, I could reach God consciousness if I keep at it. 

Oh God, I love you God, thank you for saving me from that terrible, ugly man. You could’ve given me a brain-damaged paraplegic boy to nurse, but you didn’t. That wasn’t my burden to bear. I’m no mother. You gave him into the fold of hell. I can’t explain my gratitude for the divine plan. 

Now I say it, I scream it like a banshee, I Love You, Father! Our Father! Who art in Heaven! Hallowed be thy name! I smash my body and vibrate on the carpet. I smear around as though I’m melting, I feel I’m liquid, the thrust of the divine warming me over and pulsating from within, I am flow state. I drool into the carpet and suck it back up, the flavor of a million walks of life soaked into my spit. I touch myself. I clench my breasts as though they could burst like heirloom tomatoes. I drag up and down with my knees until I can feel the burn.

I feel the incubus leak from me. My soul-cleansing ritual manifesting in the real world. I twitch and crank, I grunt with hot ferocity and let all the darkness out. I fizzle softly. Catch my breath. I put my hand in my shorts to inspect. I pull out a hand covered in black excrement holding a fetus-sized blood clot. 

After I clean with baby wipes, I lay in bed and finish the bottle of Jack. I still smell of evil. I finally change my Facebook status from married to single. I delete my Instagram account. I call my drug dealer on Snapchat and ask for his number. He tells me he can’t do that. I delete my Snapchat account. I’ll just be solely an alcoholic from now on, it’ll be better for everyone. I text my daughter that I won’t be making it to dinner. 

She texts back.

“I expected that. You would’ve just blown cigarette smoke in my face and talked about yourself the whole time anyway. #sorrynotsorry” 

Jesus Christ.

“Doors unlocked if you still wanna hang out, I love you,” I sent. 

I feel a great tragedy has happened, but I can’t put my finger on it. I feel humiliated. Under the comforter, I take off my spaghetti strap, I take off my cowboy belt, my shorts, my Uggs. Fling them to the end of the bed. I cling to my crucifix. I hum to match the sound of the box fan ripping through the air, I close my eyes and watch patterns pass on the back of my lids. I’m so tired. Tears stream like the rain smacking the trailer’s exterior, for once, I cry. I sleep. 

-

My eyes peeled open.

My brain was like a heavy chunk of metal, shivering outward—skull buzz. I held the headache, and felt my head had been shaved in wild patterns. 

I clenched my lids and pressed my skull into the pillow, tried to reflect. All I could gather was my dream. In it, my daughter was bedside standing ultra-stiff above my head, smoking a vape with enormous puffs, the clouds emulated whole-bodied ghosts. The ghosts, I somehow understood, were the holy ones. They started filling the room and solidifying, like so many glittering ice sculptures. They each came to my bed in single file, knelt on the ground, and I fed them sacramental bread from under my blanket, one after the other. My daughter would leak altar wine from her mouth, all globbed and mixed with her spit, separating in strings and bubbles, dropping way down to where they were, as mother does to bird. That had to be wrong, I thought.

They all swam like seahorses out of my room through the window. She just stood, eyed me—she looked like she wanted to cut me. Like she was so fine to do that honor. So I fixed my fingers into the configuration of a gun. I thought it would scare her off, but she wouldn’t budge, she just stared deep. 

Pop, I went with my thumb. Silence, she wobbled then hit the ground. I heard glass shatter. I felt a huge wave had been lifted, like I had been trying to breathe underwater and now, there was icy oxygen. Clarity. The dream drifted. 

Here, awake, I wiped my greasy forehead and checked my hand, random sticks of minute hair here and there. Where had all the hair gone? There were slits up and down my forearms in cross formations, yellowed and peachy centers with crumbly blood tracing them. My lip ring was sore, inflamed. I pressed into my under eyes and they felt like petals filled with fluid. I rolled onto my side in bed and one empty bottle clinked into the next. I counted, there were six clear pints of Jack nested in the comforter, shards of glass refracting about. 

Had I driven to get these? I don’t remember. I looked to my nightstand stand and there was a vape, an exacto-knife, and clippers, all red in a dark brown pool, finger lines smeared through it. The clippers were on, splattering the gloop liquid. I couldn’t hear them through the box fan.

I leaned towards the floor and there was all my hair, lightly shifting upwards in the air and chained over my dumped-down lamp. To the right was a woman face down, her arm splayed, fingers soft over the base of the lamp. She wasn’t breathing. Wasn’t expanding and contracting like a breathing person would. I reached my foot to flip her head. 

I put on a black lace nightgown. Another crucifix necklace.

I lugged my daughter into the backseat of my car. I was soaked in blood. I drove around town barefoot. I didn’t know where to go. 

There was a Christian coffee shop on the corner of Thirteenth Street. I thought they maybe could help me. 

I entered and raised my arms receptively. Everyone stopped and stared. The cashier covered her mouth.