#how does he actually eat those fish and snakes though

[dark-lunasri]

I had brain rot yesterday and this wouldn't go away till I doodled it.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

in your earlier ask you said that yves is pretty much anti child so is he also anti pet? or maybe anti puppy/kitten/baby animal? when you described yves pretty much conditioning reader to dislike kids it reminded me when i got my kitten when she was three weeks old. it was during the lockdown so although i was there 24/7 i was lacking sleep because she refused to sleep on her own and i had to feed her every two hours and when she got older she got hyper and i needed to play with her so she could chill out a little more. i remember as i put her to sleep in my lap for the third time i thought to myself “is this what babies are like? but worse, dirtier and for a longer time?” as much as i love my little fur baby i don’t think i could go through that again so i wonder yves’ thoughts on pets. he gives off those vibes that he hates fur everywhere and can’t stand barking lol. but then again if reader wants a pet im assuming he’ll accommodate somehow.

Pets that need his constant attention like most mammals and noisy animals like the majority of birds are a big no for him.

However, he doesn't mind having reptilians as pets. As long as they're big enough to not lose them. He is indifferent to fishes, but he sees them more as home decor than actual living beings. Something akin to owning lava lamps.

He especially likes snakes. It fits with the aesthetic of his house and they're one of the lowest maintenance pets there is. He would meet all of its physical needs, but other than that, he wouldn't care to spend more time with it than necessary. The snake will be locked up in its enclosure at all times, unless you want to interact with it and he knows that your personality wouldn't lead to trouble. He knows everything there is to know about the snake, yet he sees it as a mere display piece for his living room.

Yves despises insects, he uses the presence of them as a sign that the environment isn't clean, and he does not appreciate having to think his house is filthy. No matter how much research he does on them and how many results show that insects do not necessarily equal dirty, Yves just could not accept them.

He is not squeamish, though. Yves despises them but he is not afraid of them, he knows how to handle a tarantula gently and keep calm when it decides to crawl under his turtleneck. If you threw a bucket of cockroaches on him he would not scream or flail, he would dodge it gracefully before dusting himself off. If any got onto him, he will just pick them off his clothes as if they're paper stickers. Yves will not beat around the bush and try to find a roll of newspaper or a bug spray, he is squashing that colony of spiders with his bare hands.

The way he could simply grab a handful of mealworms without hesitation makes the world think he loves bugs. He doesn't, not one bit.

You could simply shove him in a vat full of writhing maggots and he would come out as if he took a leisure swim in the pool, combing his hair with his fingers to get rid of any leftovers.

Yves would be annoyed more than horrified, lecturing you that pushing him into ponds of worms is rude while he jerks his head to expel the ones that are stuck in his ears.

Not to say he is inept at taking care of them. Yves can be an excellent caretaker for any and every animal. His research skills are unbelievably godly and he loathes the idea of him being perceived as incompetent in anything.

Yves also has a strangely high tolerance for all things disgusting and vile, he could clean up the most brutal bloody murder scene complete with mutilated bodies, decomposition, faeces, urine, vomit and other bodily fluids without wearing gloves or a gas mask; and still have an appetite to eat lunch immediately after. Vacuuming fur and sifting through the litter box is nothing to him. He just does not find much fulfillment in owning a pet. Hence, a pet becomes a parasite in his life, and he detests all things vermin.

If you wanted a furry companion so badly, he will hit the books and review the patterns in your life again.

Do you really want a pet or are you actually just bored? If it's the latter, he could effectively fill your time and make you forget about your desire for an animal companion. He could also negotiate his way out of this too.

Are you someone who hyper fixate on something or someone, then lose all interest after a few months? Then, he could wait it out. Taking care of your newest breathing toy as he counts down until you finally decide to abandon it and move on to greener pastures.

Are you someone who easily gives up at the first encounter of a problem? Maybe all it takes for you to drop the interest entirely is a meow that's too loud or a nip that's a bit too painful. He's going to train the animal to misbehave around you.

Are you someone who is susceptible to peer pressure? He is going to train your pet to misbehave around your loved ones. Manipulate your friends and family into thinking that you're an abusive or neglectful pet owner. He doesn't have to say a word to you, everyone is doing the pressuring for him.

Maybe you would fold under his dour glare and stern words, he can be quite scary at times. That generally reduces anyone into a shivering, crying mess that will not bring up the things that displeases him. This is usually the second-last resort to anything.

Perhaps you're a fierce animal lover and have a strong portfolio of being a cat or dog owner. You wouldn't give your beloved four legged friends up for the world, you will fight for them till your very last breath. Someone with unbreakable maternal/paternal instincts towards your precious fur babies. Giving them up is not in the equation.

Well, he is not above traumatizing you for life.

When push comes to shove, you might find your trusted non-human companions betraying you by lacerating your extremities to the point of no repair. Puncturing your throat with its sharp canines and claws, leaving you to breathe on a ventilator while Yves takes care of you in the hospital.

Or he could direct the attack to someone else, make you liable for lasting damages and having to put your seemingly rabid pets down. You would also have to live with the guilt of knowing you're mainly responsible for disfiguring that poor child's face, changing his life for the worse, just because you "didn't" train them well.

He warned you not to test him. Yves has been lenient and his patience has reached its limits. He may love you and want the best for you, but he is also very, very selfish.

[dear-alex-chill]

I know Onecest (Onceler x Onceler) was a dark time in Tumblr's history, but when it serves as a metaphor, it actually makes a really good point.

Every movie can be viewed through 'critical lenses' or basically, with mindsets. For example, you can watch The Truman Show (1998) with a focus on 'what roles do women play and do they really have power' and quickly come to the conclusion that a society centered around a male (Truman) really holds no place for women (all the women in his life were easily replaced, cast out, or held no real importance besides keeping him there). With this in mind, you can look at the Lorax (2012) with a focus on the relationship between nature and greed, and money and power.

In the Lorax, we see corporate greed, driven by a thirst for power through having more money, repeatedly disrupting natural order. First it happens with the Onceler who cuts down all the truffula trees so he can become rich, then by O'Hare and his monetization of air, and it presumably happens in other situations like the Oakamatic (fake trees). I'm gonna focus on the Onceler in this though.

Throughout the movie, the Onceler serves as a metaphor for capitalism. He starts out innocent enough, like an entrepreneur, just trying to get his work out there. It's within control and no natural order is really being disrupted, just like the intent with capitalism. He's only taking some of the tree's fluff and nothing is getting consumed beyond any means. However, that all changes when greed steps in. Once the Onceler gets greedy and wants to become rich (his descent documented through the song 'How Bad Can I Be?') natural order suddenly becomes sacrificed. Now overconsumption is an issue, he's failing to replant or replace the losses, factories are being built where they shouldn't be. As far as the movie and analogy goes, the Onceler illustrates how quickly capitalism can descend from being an orderly and effective system, to a breeding ground for destruction, therefore tying back to one of the movie's themes: Corporate greed disrupts natural order.

How does this relate to Onecest? Glad you asked. If we establish the Onceler as a symbol/metonymy for capitalism, it's quickly made clear: capitalism can only love itself. This ship originated because the audience was never given anyone plausible to ship the Onceler with at any point in his story (aside from the Lorax but that was beyond cursed both as symbolism and as something to witness). Similar to capitalism, it can't love anything. It does not benefit the young or the old or nature or humans or animals. Capitalism can only realistically love itself, which is why it survives in a society like the USA today.

We can take this a step further. Since Onecest was based around the young Onceler and the slightly older Onceler, one can further this analogy by saying: Those supporting capitalism under the belief that they can make it (young Onceler), love capitalism because of a deep-rooted desire for money (older Onceler). Then ultimately, at the present time of the movie, the Onceler is old and deteriorating, not shipped with anyone, to show that any relationship with capitalism will not end well. He had the money, he had it all, he was a big flashy billionaire but he still ended up alone because his greed went too far. Like a snake eating its own tail, capitalism eventually self-destructs and leaves nothing but memories and scars behind, like the field of dead trees surrounding the old Onceler. Modern capitalism is a breeding ground for exploitation and greed, and often is irreversible. Look at the declining fish populations, the lack of Old and Mature Growth forests, the exploitation of workers in underdeveloped or developing countries, all of it was caused by greed overtaking the concern for natural order - under the ironic guise of Darwin's theory of natural selection (the stronger wins). Just like the Onceler was in his song, the modern understanding of natural selection in relation to capitalism is sorely mistaken, which may indicate that the two do not actually go together.

Ultimately, the Onceler's drive for money and power, at the expense of natural order demonstrates the effects of corporate greed, and his interesting relationship with himself due to the fandom's need to ship actually serves as an amazing metaphor for capitalism.

[buggie-hagen]

Sermon for Sixth Sunday after Pentecost (6/30/24)

Primary Text | Wisdom 1:13-15; 2:23-24

-------------------------------------------------------

Dear People of God,

          God did not make death. He does not delight in the death of anyone (Wis. 1:13-14). It is God’s desire that you live. That you have life, and life to the fullest (John 10:10). In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth—he created things so that they would exist. More than that even. He created them so that they would shine like the stars like the stars above. A true utopia. The birds. The fish. The cattle. Human beings. All of them God created with delight. When he created them, he stepped back and admired his work. And he saw that it was good. In Hebrew he saw that they were tov maod—exceedingly good.

We might think of angels as beings that God likes more—in whom he takes the most delight. Think about it. Though we don’t actually know much about angels, we know a few things. Angels don’t have bodies like we do. They get to serve God in the realms of glory. They might have a shininess about them. Some have wings. Whatever ways angels are above us God does not deem angels as the Crème de la crème of God’s creation. So, when we say we become angels when we die it is actually a downgrade. It is not angels; it is human beings who are the crown jewel of God’s creation! How fascinating! How can this be? There’s all these strange things about us. We have hair poking out of our skin. We have toenails. We get sweaty when it’s hot. When it’s cold we get goosebumps. Our stomachs growl when we’re hungry. When we are born, we’re not fully developed—so we need our parents to wipe our butts. No matter the color of our skin, red blood pumps through our veins. Some of us are even known to drool on our pillows when we sleep. We do not realize how odd we are because these things are normal to us. We miss that everything about us, from the top of our head to the tip of our toes is a gift and miracle of God. It is we human beings, soul and body—that God says is exceedingly good. He created us to live forever in our good, weird, and messy little bodies.

          Today’s first reading is from the Wisdom of Solomon. Sayings attributed to King Solomon. Wisdom of Solomon is a biblical book. But it is in what we call the apocrypha of the Bible. For now, it is enough to know the apocrypha are a set of books that weren’t written in the original Hebrew language but were nevertheless considered worthy to read by the early churchWhen Luther translated the Bible into the common language, he included the apocrypha. So, we, as heirs of his Reformation, do not dismiss them like others. Though in America we have forgotten this and assume our Bible is the same as other Protestants.

 Now. I’ve spoken about the goodness of creation, and God’s delight especially in human beings. Yet we know by experience, the world as it is, is not how God would have it. As the Wisdom of Solomon says, “God created us for incorruption, and made us in the image of his own eternity, but through the devil’s envy death entered the world, and those who belong to his company experience it” (Wis. 2:23-24). There was one person in particular who did not agree with God. He saw God take his most delight in the human creatures rather than over angels. And he got jealous. The angel of light, the best of God’s angels, was the devil. The devil looked at the messy, little creatures God called human beings, and was disgusted. The devil thought to himself, “How can this be? Humans have snotty noses! They fart. They belch. How gross! I cannot tolerate that God would have them be the crown jewel of God’s creation.” And so, it is the devil who brought death into the world.

          First, he approached Eve in the garden in the form of a snake. God had already told them: “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.” Now in her encounter with the devil Eve started out on the right foot. She did not want to eat it, for she yet believed God’s word. She was yet a person who had complete and full trust in God—which meant nothing could cause her to be afraid. But the devil pressed her. He said, “Did God really say, ‘You shall not eat’? You shall not die. It’s just God does not want you to be like him and know the difference between good and evil.” And with that, the serpent cast doubt into Eve’s heart. It was not her eating the apple that was the original sin. It was that she doubted God’s word—which led her to eat the apple. Soon enough Adam fell in the same way and ate the apple—neither Adam nor Eve are better than the other on this matter. Eve and Adam did not realize this, but now that sin had entered the world, they were dead people walking. And they and their descendants would be cursed with death. Today we die because from conception to our last day we are full of sin. From our mother’s womb we are dying. We do not fear and love God as we ought. We become afraid at the rustling of a leaf. Like Eve and Adam before us, we seek to be our own god, determining for ourselves what is right and wrong.

          Since this time, we, the crown jewel of God’s creation, are unrecognizable from what we were meant to be. We are like zombies in God’s eyes. The walking dead. Nothing good remains in us. Death decorates us from head to toe. Now, in reaction, God could have wiped his hands of us and started the universe over. But hear this. God is gracious and merciful. He did not cause Adam and Eve to die right away. He let them continue even while sin was ever before them. He instead gave them a promise, a promise that someone born of their bodies would crush the serpent’s head. This is called a word from God. And in the fullness of time God sent his Son Jesus Christ to be born of a woman. Mary. It was this God the Son who became a human being like you and me, but without sin. To save you and I in both soul and body. God upped the ante on the devil. You see. God’s heart in Jesus Christ is like a great burning oven. Jesus took your death and your sin and brought it down into the grave with him. By his death, your death is no more. He has chosen to pass over your sin by the blood of Christ. And in so doing, has obtained life for you.

          The life you have in Christ is greater than death. Baptism ensures this. God in Jesus Christ has left you also with his last will and testament—the Lord’s Supper. In it you are given forgiveness. In the bread and cup, you have salvation. In the body and blood of Christ that we partake, eternal life is yours. When death causes you to tremble. When sin makes its ugly face known. When your confidence is gone. When you are weak, take comfort in this: God’s love in Jesus Christ is not for those who deserve it, but for real and actual sinners like you and me. Here in the Lord’s Supper, he forgives you again and again. As the woman of blood was healed by touching the hem of Jesus’ robe, you are healed as the body and blood of Christ touch your lips in the bread and wine. The devil in his envy thought it was unfair that human beings should be so highly prized by God. So he brought death into the world. He thought, “Surely God will like me better than them now.” But in Christ God did not count your trespasses against you. God let go of his own godness, by dying, in order to save you. You. There is no greater love than this. That is the blessing and grace of Jesus Christ made known to you. The peace of Christ that surpasses all understanding guards your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

[notmuchtoconceal]

King Belial has informed me that he does not wish to talk about his hot, nerd exes, the Jews. This is a very sensitive subject for Kingu, and if he seems schizophrenic about breaching it, that is simply because he recognizes it is futile to ignore and repress his emotions, though frankly -- it feels equally futile to express them, and yet this comes with it the benefit of unburdening the weight upon his heart, so It Must Be As It Is. To scream into the void and to hear no echo will at least obliterate the sound of the anguish, giving it no concrete on which to echo far.

King Belial has accepted that he will always love the Jews, but he understands the Jews want nothing to do with him, and that's fine. King Belial, of course, would always be open to meeting up with the Jews again, even just for coffee, but he's made peace with the possibility they may never collectively venerate him and know his wisdom again, and that's fine. It's fine that he's been reduced to a footnote in history, known to men of learning only through scant shreds of surviving manuscripts and spontaneous dark revelation. This is no doubt very pleasing to the Jews, who delight in destroying people's souls with complex, mean-spirited puns for they realize their sorcery is doubly affective, not only against those who profess affection for them, but doubly doubly against the father of all their occult arts. The Jews who, for whatever reason, seem to demand on viewing themselves as small and neurotic and mouselike when King Belial will not cease to insist on their strength and tenacity and clear sight and complex ability to collectively negotiate.

It's fine. It doesn't matter how much King Belial sees of himself in the Jews, the Jews decided they only need slavish devotion to their one sole Narcissistic Abuser God Jehovah (you like to call him by his German name cause it makes him sound like a Fat Kid) cause apparently King Belial wasn't vicious and evil and child-murdery enough to deserve their Undivided Attention. You know. King Belial wants you to be happy.

King Belial knows you're a fuckin freak and ya like it rough, but King Belial's on your side, hon. He don't actually wanna treat you like dirt. He honestly thinks it's fuckin weird that it don't feel real for you if he don't actually hurt you. What is this fucking thing festering inside you? How can you think you want that? Do you not see how, long-term, this don't make any fuckin sense? You don't seem like yourself. How can this be you? How can you sit here and look me in the eye and say you want me to do this to you? How can you tell me you wanna be leashed and live the rest of your life as my dog, chokin and spittin and beggin for my cock?

Who the fuck do you think I am? I'll be whatever disgusting thing you need me to be, but I don't think you're disgusting. I don't care if you need to think I'm disgusting after I do what you need me to do to you.

I know if I didn't give you a choice, you'd still be mine. Maybe I do hate you. Letting you get away. Letting you torture yourself without me.

Maybe I never cared about you. Maybe I always just wanted to watch you destroy yourself. Maybe it's all true. Maybe it's always true.

Maybe I still love you cause you're the only one who ever knew the truth about me. You're the only one who knew I was a demon the entire time, and you exposed me and won, and now I just wanna see you ruined.

Maybe it's all just Mutually Assured Destruction, kid.

Maybe I need to destroy all my love for you, cause loving you when you never loved me is just me seeing myself ruined.

There were so few of you. So few of us.

I thought we were so alike.

I am the Sea. All Fish Lie Within Me.

I left you to wander when I drowned my chariots.

I am the One Snake Eating the Other.

When I laugh, I kick up winds.

When I Part, I Raise Up Walls.

[olivedoesmagic]

Olive Brimstone Book 2: episode 1

What is Reality Shifting? [CC] - YouTube

So i’ve started a new journal. One on reality shifting and physhcis again. Time travel has been proven to me over and overa again. Reality shifting is reality so its made up of a few things. ITEMS OF WEAR, how you treat those items, the stories we tell, how we live our lifes, and the feelings of it all. So feelings, clothes, fiction, and ideas. The original four tribes of native america.

8 = timelapse, over 12, plus 52 over 91  10 = 5.7412.32 - (-67) over 52 = fish using the metaphor of how gills work. Reality shifting is apparently just science so like a boss i learned fucking science. Also my friend from brandon hall got plastic surgery to look like me. Please treat her and ask her how she wants to be for it. She needs a small period of being bullied being bullied playfully then being treated as gorgeous like a goddess for it do to a heavy curse on her family. I love these two videos now that ive become an expeiremtn myself from Master.

(1) Grimace Sings A Song (Scary And Spooky McDonald's Horror Parody) - YouTube

Barbie Vs Oppenheimer Rap Battle (Barbenheimer Margot Robbie Cillian Murphy Fun Parody Song) - YouTube

Pop Culture Magick is Cool actually! In defense of fairies, animism, stupidity, disability and dolls - YouTube

Yes adam snowflake is my master. Deal with that shit.In a tight undershirt tank top, but lets get cleaned up and prove dolls are cool and thought prvkng - YouTube i like that he proved im not crazy oaky? I write this from reality 2.8 we just shifted into a world where south korea won the war. It was great all other realities are poked nad prodded here like that yellow snake creepypasta whos always shifting or the life and times of mrbadass dunken.

Some people get trapped in wormholes and theories but science does need to be invented omstimes but given the probability of chance it envelops i had a skin dissorder where my skin was mushy and turning grey i blame by the reality shickeness so i quickly did a golem ritual and it hardened up but i felt soulless like a doll like a toy given the physiological fungus that caused it all, so my best friend gave me surgery with a needle knowing i was going to die but knowing iw as into alchamey carfved Ayraina, Ra, Adam, God, Allah and Da-dah on the goldems chest with teh signia from full metal alchemist and i suddenly lokoed like my profile picture i spent many  time in korea it was good it was nice, but at age 8 since i remember things out of order which is part of my shifts and what skiso is, i fell enveloped and was back to normal with my old face. Yes olive brimstone has had some work done. The fungus is dypresxia lumicis as a dissroder it would be dymeliga phomonias, or limons milega and theirs  alot ot that but reality saved my life. Apparently all reality shifting is is learning of things and seeing them a certain way that actually proves multiverse theory by taking a perspective as though you were there. So yeah bitch im not fuking crazy go eat yourself.

You can now visit these worlds. It has to be true by the probability of chance,. Its it so hard to beelive that my gnawing on technoparts taught me to code a machine with how i clean my room?

Syllables = over -5

A1 2b 3c d4 e  6 732

Now add up what i just said and look at strawberry planting look for the pattern of how you do al that and bam im a goldem

Olive Brimstone

4:29/2023

[hotwings0203]

Dead best husband dabi expects his wife to come home make him dinner and fuck his cock then spends the money she makes on beer

Tw:dubcon, misogyny, food play

It’s a tedious routine, almost like dreadful clockwork. You come home from your 9-5, take off your shoes, throw your keys on the counter, and not even before you make it into the kitchen is when his requests come out.

No, you say requests to keep yourself sane, but they’re actually thinly veiled commands.

“Where’s dinner? I’ve been waiting all day.”

“God, you look like a slut. Were they having an orgy at your work or somethin’? Is that what you were so busy doing all day? No wonder this place is a mess. Clean this shit up.”

“Hurry up, the lights broken. And you smell like shit, go wash-no, after you change the bulb.”

You have to look at your wedding photos frequently to remind yourself that he’s your husband, not some lowlife you picked up.

Except, every time you look at the pictures to evade his harsh insults and biting directions, it feels like the Dabi in your memorabilia sneers more and more rather than smiles.

It’s his permanent look, in fact, you’ve forgotten how it felt to feel a warmth in your heart when he smiled demurely at you. It’s hard to remember how his soft touch across your cheeks felt rather than the usual slap delivered to the sore skin.

When you walk in, he’s sprawled on the couch, a t.v remote in one hand and a beer in the other. He’s wearing a wife beater and shorts, absentmindedly scratching his balls when you utter a small “Hey hun.”

“Don’t you ‘hey hun’ me. Where the fuck were you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes and immediately make your way to the kitchen, with him leaping up from the couch and tailing behind you.

“Don’t fucking walk away from me, what, you ignoring me now?”

He grabs the back of your neck and slams you face-first into the fridge, preventing you from opening the door.

“Ow! No, I was just looking for a snack-“

“-shut up. You don’t get to eat until I do, you cow. Or are you forgetting how this marriage works?”

He crushes your neck and leans forward to take a whiff of your hair.

“God, is that cologne? You cheating on me now?”

“No Dabi, we had a company lunch and I was just talking to some friends. Maybe that’s what you’re smelling.”

He lets go of you and throws you towards the sink. “Good. You better not be. If I find out some douchebag’s been putting his hands all over you I’ll slit his balls and make you eat em’.”

You grimace and wordlessly start putting pots and pans together, ignoring the rumble in your stomach. You didn’t even get a chance to take your suit off, but you don’t dare exit the kitchen until he’s had his fill yet.

He’s just hangry. That’s all there is to it.

Your husband scratches his stomach and ambles back to the living room, belching obnoxiously and running his hands through his unruly hair.

Hours go by as you slave over the stove, making his favorite desserts and dishes as your fingers begun to progressively cramp, your legs begin to burn as you stand and finish up. With him in the living room it’s easy to taste your own food and get some meager meal in between breaks, but you stop yourself from gorging without him.

Knowing Dabi, he’d measure how many cups of food you started cooking with and subtract it from how much remained now.

Even though it was your money that bought this food.

You’re at the sink a while later cleaning spoons when he strolls in again, crossing his arms and leaning against the entrance of the kitchen. He watches you for a couple minutes, sighing and humming to yourself as you scrub vigorously.

He doesn’t take in the copious amount of dishes you made, he doesn’t compliment how spotless the place looks despite all the cooking that went down here, no. Dabi stares at the way your ass wiggles while you work, the way your body bends attractively over the running sink, your tits brushing against the countertop.

You yelp and drop a small plate when you feel hands encompass your waist. His body is pressed tightly against yours, his hips lightly humping you like an eager virgin does. The force of his weight against you pushed you forward and you have to quickly grab onto the sink spout to avoid falling face first into soggy sink food.

“Dinners almost done Dabi, I’ll be out with it in a bit.”

“Mmmh, I’m not interested in eating that kind of food right now.”

He rests his head on top of yours and you barely refrain from screaming. What the hell did that mean? Wasn’t he the one harping on you earlier for not cooking fast enough?

“God, you look like a perfect slutty housewife right now. ‘M gonna fuck you.” He mutters as he begins yanking your trousers off while bending you further on the sink.

Your hands brace on the wet banister as you let him take what he wants. Last time you refused, he shoved one of his beer bottle necks into your pussy and made you ride on it.

“Dabi-Dabi, the food.” You try to tell him to move the dishes being pushed around from him manhandling you up on the counter but he doesn’t listen.

One plate goes crashing onto the floor, your Alfredo sauce mixed with porcelain bits.

“Oops,” he says not so regretfully. When your panties are successfully ripped down, he lifts your waist and lugs you onto the countertop, your upper half plastered on the cool marble.

His patched hands snake their way up your shirt and push the fabric up along with your bra while his now naked hips start pushing against your bare cunt.

Your exposed tits are squished down and you hiss as your body envelopes the cold counter. You try to lift your head up but he pushes you head back down.

“Uh-uh, no moving ‘till I’m finished. This is what you get for dropping food on the ground. In fact-“

His eyes catch a hold of the mini cakes you whipped up, and a sly grin on his face erupts as he looks from them to your quivering hole.

“Why don’t you have a taste of it? One down, a couple more plates to go!” You cry out in frustration as his hand swipes across the bar and sends the cake dish flying onto the floor.

He pays no heed to the defeating crash, just merely inspects his fingers that got some whipped cream on them while he smack the plate.

“A chef’s gotta taste her own cooking right? This cunt definitely looks hungry and oh so greedy right now too,” he pouts mockingly and traces his cream-covered fingers around your labia, roughly circling your clit and mixing the sweet food into the crevices of your pussy.

“P-please Dabi, don’t. We can do this after dinner, I’m so tired right now! I have to clean up this mess too!”

But no amount of pleading satiates the sadistic bastard. He just yanks your head back and shoves his fingers in your mouth when you open it in pain.

“Suck on ‘em real good, just like how you suck off your bosses. That’s how you get all this fuckin’ money right? You show a little ass, flash some tits, suck some old geezers off-and boom! You’ve got a nice house, and nice husband.” He leers at you as you choke on his slender digits.

Only when you feel like you’re about to vomit is when he yanks his hand out and wipes up another stray glob of frosting from the side of a testing plate. He doesn’t waste any time in working his fingers back inside you, a different hole this time however.

It feels so wrong with a massive creamy glob being pushed along your walls along with expert fingers that know your body inside out, but no matter how disgusting it is, he still finds your spongy area and begins stroking. The smooth filling glides up and down your g-spot as the pads of his fingers batter your sloppy pussy, and in no time you begin moaning.

“Oh Dabi, oh Dabi, fuck, please,-“

“Oh Dabi, oh Dabi,” he mocks cruelly, pinching your clit and squeezing your squished nipples as he pulls his fingers out right at the tip of your climax.

You try to turn around and plead for release but he doesn’t let you. Without missing a beat he takes his bricked up cock in hand and taps it on your ass before gliding in your weeping, cream covered pussy.

The moan you let out is so lewd that even a pornstar would be proud. You hate him, hate this marriage, hate the way he orders you around and looks down on you regardless of how you shower him with love and money.

But holy fuck, when his mushroom tip bangs against your womb like that and drags up and down your sensitive cavern you forget all the abuse.

Back and forth, up and down, sideways and forwards is the way you feel fucked. For someone who just sits on the couch all day you wonder how someone with such frame could fuck like a stallion, barely missing a beat.

“Hah, haaa fuck, you little whore, yeah, bring that ass back on Daddy, show him what you show those creepy fucks at work.” He pants and strikes your ass as you ricochet off his pelvis, his balls slapping your sticky labia.

You whine and try to wriggle out of his intrusion when he sneers the insult, but he merely cages you in between his arms and hunches over your bare body, pumping into you faster than before.

Your open jaw clacks as your tongue drops out in pleasure, his animalistic grunts and curses going straight into your ear and sending you over the edge.

He cums before you, groaning and dropping his dead weight over your suffocated body, not bothering to aid in your pathetic rubbing against his deflating dick.

“A little bit more, please Dabi? I’m so close honey-“

His fingers twitch next to you as he regains himself, exhaling through puffed up cheeks and yawning widely.

“Shut up. You don’t deserve to get off after the mess you made here.”

He peels his sweat-soaked body off of yours and tucks himself back into his pants, regarding the mess on the floor.

All your hard work, gone within a few minutes of ruthless fucking. Which you didn’t even get off to.

He fishes out a crumpled $10 from his musty shorts and throws it at your face like a cheap hooker would take.

“Here. Buy some Plan B and get me some beer. And you better not leave before serving me some fucking food, useless bitch.”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hello. What about a villain SO who adores animals for Captain Hook, Hades, Dr. Facilier, Bill Cipher, Beetlejuice, and Jafar? Thank you hun😊🍯

Hope you like these ^^

~~~

Beetlejuice:

·         I wouldn’t put it past him to make one or two beastiality jokes…

·         But apart from that, he doesn’t half mind animals either! (And he finds it endearing to see you playing with them, not that he cares to identify at all the warm, soothing feeling in his chest when he sees you boop your nose against a tortoise’s.) He’d love a dog, or… a tiger. A dinosaur would be ideal.

·         But actually, its animals that tend to have a problem with him.

·         Cuz of course animals are a lot more sensitive than humans tend to be to ghosts, and demons, and souls. And his soul is pretty damn mucky. BJ has met exactly zero animal’s so far (Since his death) that haven’t taken an immediate dislike of him. They hiss at him, or growl, or try to wriggle away even if they aren’t being held by him; Just nearby to him.

·         He scares them because they can feel his evil and want nothing to do with it.

·         So your dreams of adopting a dog with your new ghostie bf will need to be put on a back burner. Maybe he can lasso a sandworm and y’all can name her Rose and she can be your pet? He absolutely does not want you to be sad because of him!!

Bill Cipher:

·         “ooOOH, what kind? Anglerfish? Clown fish? Sharks? Lobsters? Giant Squid? Wolffish? The Textile Cone Snail’s native to the Red Sea, Indian Ocean and Oceania waters? Octopus? Lock Ness Monster? Mermaids? Shrimp? Koi? M E G A L A D O N S? OH OH- THE KRAKEN?”

·         “Wow, that was a lotta underwater stuff. I mean, yeah, they’re all great but also land animals and birds… And I don’t think all those are actually real?”

·         “Heheh, that’s what you think… “His body loses its colour and becomes like a Bill Shaped screen, like he does sometimes when he’s brainstorming, and you just catch a picture of somewhere under the ocean and a beautiful, purple tale flapping out of the picture and a flash of soft, human skin just above it. Your eyes blow wide open. “Y/N, remember 80 percent of the ocean is unexplored.”

·         SO, yeah. Bill’s really into underwater creatures. It is the most mysterious part of earth and in it lives some of the world’s freakiest creatures.

·         He’ll install a whole aquarium in your house out of excitement, and inside? Nothing but angler fish, giant squids to watch you while you sleep and beautifully coloured sea snails climbing up the glass walls.

·         Land animals though and birds? Very little interest. Birds get points only for being close to dinosaurs (You ask about reptiles in that case and his eye inverts in its colouring. His ‘skin’ goes red. “Those jerks know what they did.”), but still he’d much rather talk about star fish! Get ready to be more educated about the ocean’s weirdest creatures and mysterious happenings then you ever wanted to be.

Captain Hook:

·         He has very confused feelings about this- especially when you act so chummy with Tik Tok who, naturally, loves you and your T-Bone steak snacks.

·         On one hand, if you’re feeding Tik Tok then Tik Tok probably won’t feel the need or be able, to eat him.

·         But on the other- bEtrAyER! How could you feed and love that monster, that has plagued his life for years and made his existence a living hell?

·         But then again, the fact that Tik Tok is now often too full to bother with him rears its head again and he calms down.

·         Because of this, its typical that he says nothing when you have animals around (Any animal. They all remind him of Tik Tok. Scales, fur, or feather). He’ll want to. Gosh, the need to speak will overflow in his throat and he’ll take a deep breath- … but then no words come out. He forces it down. Because he can’t mention his dislike without mentioning his relief also, so speaking at all would really just make you confused and feel bad and leave him frustrated because he doesn’t know how either of you could change to make this better for anyone, so its just not worth it.  

·         So then he just walks away.

·         Its pretty humorous to see, actually. Because he’s just all grumpy and slouching off, maybe shaking his head and muttering, and you’re all wide eyed and confused. Holding, like, a budgie or a snake or something.

·         The other pirates are keeping a tally.

·         Bonus point: He’s not scared (Or allergic) of any other animals apart from Tik Tok, so you don’t have to worry about him being skittish or anything.

Dr Facilier:

·         Frogs are a difficult subject for him so enjoy amphibian cuties somewhere that he is not, please. Also rabbits- there was an incident before you came along that he does not speak of.

·         Other then that, Facilier is basically a normal person about animals. He can appreciate a nice zoo visit every now and then and pet the odd dog or cat but with you in his life he never wants to go to a zoo again. And he’s bored as hell by everyday pets.

·         But he won’t tell you he’s sick of all the animals. Nay, nay. Its one of those things where you love the person, so you put up with the crazy/annoying shit they love. Like ‘Yes, yes. Very interesting, cher… ‘ when you talk about it, while he’s actually reading the newspaper and he hasn’t heard anything you said. After all, you stay quiet when he’s plotting or cackling over something he did to a victim that day. Its only fair.

·         He is fascinated, though, when he’s just watching you (Sometimes he just sits back and observes you doing your thing. Its relaxing for him) and he notices little quirks you’ve picked up from various creatures. Like the way you curl up when you’re lying down on the couch and how you shrink back from things that happened to surprise you, similar to a big cat. Your eyes are focused like a wild animal, too. Very cute.

·         Lots of animal-themed nicknames.

Hades:

·         “You know, some tell me I’m a kinda animal, babe… “He wiggles his eyebrows at you over his mug of whatever-he-drinks (You fear asking, after watching him eat a bowl of worms), offering his best (And funniest) bedroom eyes to you.

·         “Yes, but are you as cute as this snake Hades?? Are you?? Look into these eyes and tell me this snek is not as cute as you are.” You lift the little grass snake gently from the table and onto your arm, letting him wrap its body around you and lift his head to look around; Checking out what’s up. He was getting his scales stroked good; Why has it stopped?  

·         “Pfft,” Hades rolls his eyes, returning to the chess board in front of him (He likes to play both sides and challenge himself).

·         Okay so, Hades can take or leave most animals. But it’s so cute that you love them, so he lets you keep them around. Whatever animals you like (Don’t worry, you also have the proper equipment and enclosures for them, and Hades makes another God, who is an expert on all things animals, come by whenever you have a question), and however many you like. I mean, what’s the good of being a God if you can’t spoil yourself and your preciously excited, human significant other?

·         So you have, like, Reptiles at the west end of his underworld castle, nocturnal animals on the east, more pet-type animals like dogs and cats and rabbits in the living area part of the castle, etc.

·         The animals give Pain and Panic a hugely hard time, which Hades thinks is a great bonus to doing this for you.

·         He really loves it when you call him and yourself the animal’s parents. Yes, call me Daddy, babes. Its fine by me!

Jafar:

·         Oh my god, the disdain in his voice when he looks from you, practically bouncing on the heels of your feet and to the fluffy white kitty you’ve gently shoved in his hands- which he holds at nearly a full arm’s length away from him. “Eugh. Really?”

·         “What’s wrong! ? Isn’t she the cutest?”

·         “She’ll get fur everywhere.”

·         “Oh, that’s rich… “You say, side eye-ing Iago, who’s making a face at the cat from Jafar’s other shoulder. “Iago stress moults- and you stress him out all the time!”

·         A dramatic, offended gasp erupts from one of the two males (Not gonna tell you who). “It is aesthetically pleasing mess!”

·         So basically if the animal doesn’t speak a language he understands, he doesn’t care for it. You’re going to be fighting him on this for the rest of your life, Y/N. (Or his. I mean, I heard evil double crossing sorcerer vizier’s are dying at an accelerated rate these days. Hm, mysterious.).

[hahagiggles3]

I’m bored so heres what i think the ideal pets/animals are for death note characters

L

i think logically he’d get a cat or a big dog like a bernese mountain breed because theyre calm and fluffy

but his favorite animal would probably be the mantis shrimp

they're colourful shrimp but theyre big and predatory and theyre so weirdly cool

he’d love them because of their interesting habits and builds, as well as the way they catch their food

Light

he couldnt care less about having a pet, so he’d get some cool fish that sayu would name Mr. Bubbles or something

like he could have a tank of piranhas and she’d name them stuff like Gertrude, Daisy, Fluffy, dumb fun things :)

he thinks snakes are cool tho!

there are lots of different kinds of snakes and within those categories there are SUBcategories theres so many kinds

i think snakes are cool so Light thinks snakes r cool okay

Misa!!

she’d keep frogs i think

theyre pretty spontaneous every now and then so theyre fun to watch

she likes taking care of small cute things, but she’d also take an interest in poison dart frogs for their vibrant colors and how deadly they are!!

to keep poison dart frogs you cant feed them the usual bugs they eat because thats how they produce their poison, but she’d like them nonetheless

when she takes them out she puts fancy little hats on them and does photoshoots :)

Matsuda <3

He likes turtles!! they’re easier to take care of because they mostly just sunbathe all day

he loves them like his children and keeps a picture of them in his wallet

he’d love something bigger but his apartment is way too small and he could never replace his babies

Aizawa

he has no time for pets ! he’s got a daughter, a murder investigation, and all sorts of stuff with his wife going on :(

but he’d also like a big dog, one who’s calmer and can jump up on the bed and nap with him

he finds comfort in grooming and taking care of things

Mogi

i think he’d like fish

no reason, he just gives me like,,, neon tetra vibes

Watari

he keeps birds in his garden at wammy's house

no one is allowed in there but roger because they are old and need their peace

Mello & matt

big mean dog that is actually really sweet !!!

Mello keeps trying to train her to attack Near when he shows up unannounced but she just tries to lick Nears face

it basically has the same affect, near sits on the desk when they come by

Matt buys her all sorts of chew toys and treats but she just keeps trying to eat Mello’s chocolate

one christmas she got into his stash and had to get her stomach pumped :(( mello was so nervous

he definitely didn't cry in the car and Matt doesn't have a recording of him hugging her and crying on the drive to the vet

Near

rabbits! he has to keep them outside though, its the rules (aka the only way anyone can get him out of the building and into the sunlight)

he has them in a very large pen and they get lots of salad leaves and raw vegetables all the time

he likes lop bunnies the most, he has a sleepy one who’s allowed inside sometimes if he makes a sad enough face

Beyond Birthday

rats follow him around no matter what <3

likes and reblogs are much appreciated :)

[theolsentimes]

Mary-Kate Olsen's Singular Style

She came to fame as a twin, but the actress's cultish look is entirely her own. Here, with Lauren Hutton, she pays homage to another fashion inspiration, Grey Gardens. Written by Laura Brown, with photography by Peter Lindbergh (Harper's Bazaar, 2007)

VIEW GALLERY

Mary-Kate Olsen may be the only young actress who breezes into her local Starbucks wearing towering, fashion-fierce Balenciaga boots, who arrives at her latest premiere (in Mary-Kate's case, for the new season of Showtime's Weeds, in which she plays a devout Christian with a pot fetish) sporting an oversize cross, and whose favorite band is Led Zeppelin. She may, in fact, be the only young actress who knows who Led Zeppelin is. MK, as she is known to her friends and family, is also a punctual and professional sort. She arrives for a poolside tea in Los Angeles 10 minutes early, ordering a hot chocolate while explaining her fetish for all things sweet — "I'm a candy girl, like Tootsie Rolls and Swedish Fish" — and objecting when the waiter tries to take the sugar bowl away. She is wearing a nautical striped T-shirt (her mom's, from the '70s), tucked into two black Wolford slips rolled down and turned into a tight, Robert-Palmer-video-style mini, and multicolored sparkly Christian Louboutin stilettos. She's just had her hair colored, returning to a sunnier shade after some experiments with both peroxide ("I woke up one morning and was like, I want white-trash hair today") and the dark side (an auburn-haired near-Goth moment last year). She's carrying a large black fringed leather Prada tote — she doesn't do small bags — and her fingers are covered with rings, most notably two vintage coiled gold snakes stacked on top of each other. ("They remind me of twins, sort of double headed.") Altogether, the effect is less her famed "bag-lady chic" than an edgy, body-conscious, and, yes, sexy silhouette. If she weren't 21, she could be 40. And French.

Few people need reminding that Mary-Kate — with her twin sister, Ashley — literally crawled into celebrity aged nine months (courtesy of Full House) and has not been out of the spotlight ever since. She has been a celebrity for more than two decades. Perhaps that's one reason she seems as if she came out of the womb worldly, the textbook old soul. "Yeah," she says with a small shrug. "I get that a lot." With all of that attention and all of the money (her and Ashley's company, Dualstar, has famously become a "billion-dollar business"), Mary-Kate could easily have ended up the type who wears pink terry cloth and carries a variety of small dogs. "Could you imagine?" she says with the politest version of a snort. "No way." She credits her exceptionally close-knit family (she has five siblings) and, interestingly, early stardom with helping her keep her perspective. "I think it helped that I started in front of the camera, so it didn't come as a shock. If I was a teenager and was thrown into the spotlight, I don't know how I would react, to be honest." Though the tabloids are all too keen to brand her a skinny, nervous deer in the headlights, in person Mary-Kate is easy in her skin, confident and surprisingly tactile, curling up in her seat and touching you on the arm to make a point. She laments the generic style of most actresses and cites only men as style inspirations: "Heath Ledger, Johnny Depp. Men, they just dress the way they want, and they don't think about Who Wore It Best." She doesn't much care for Who Wore It Best, noting she avoids those pages by "wearing vintage so often. I just dress the way I feel instead of looking for what's the new handbag." If Mary-Kate and Ashley have their way, more people will be wearing clothes and carrying bags the way they do. They have just shown the fifth collection of their ready-to-wear line, the Row, and recently launched a contemporary label, Elizabeth and James, named after a sister and a brother. The Row's holiday collection (in stores next month) is a slick mix of skinny leather pants, razor-cut blazers, butter-soft, slouchy tees, and a destined-to-be-cultish pullover fur. Lauren Hutton, who stars in the Row's Spring '08 look book, says, "The clothes are extraordinary. A man I was with just loved them. The pieces are just so genius, soft like a baby's skin. Simple minimalist stuff, but really spectacular." Mary-Kate, designer, faces an interesting challenge. She has to marry Dualstar — which has made its fortune selling tween-tastic DVDs and pastel Mary-Kate and Ashley T-shirts at Wal-Mart — with her increasingly edgy and subversive taste. Dualstar executives, some of whom have worked with her since she was a child, often nag her, mom-style, about pulling her hair back "or wearing a color," she says with a laugh. "I had this event recently, and I was like, They're going to be so happy that I'm wearing ... purple. I actually have to think about those things, though, you know, so I don't get trashed." Get trashed sometimes she does. Hutton says, "Once in a while, she'll wear something and I'll think, Oh, baby doll, take another look. But to have the bravery, to take the chance to do that, is pretty wonderful. She is making her own way, which is hardly ever done in Hollywood." Of Mary-Kate's penchant for gigantic Balenciaga heels, Jenji Kohan, the creator of Weeds, says, laughing, "I'd be like, 'It's Tuesday. Do you really want to be wearing those shoes?' But she pulls it off." Designer Giambattista Valli, a friend, says, "She likes to take risks, but because she has such strong personal style, she always manages to make it work. Even if she had nothing on, she'd have style." And MK chic is spreading. "Sometimes I'll look at people or at a magazine and I'll do a double take because I'm like, Oh, my God, that's my outfit, but that's not me," Mary-Kate says. Playing with her wire-rimmed aviators, she jokes wryly that she should have bought shares in Ray-Ban. (She and Chloë Sevigny pretty much brought back white '80s Wayfarers.) She tends to fall in love with a look, then wear it until she's done. "If I put together a good outfit, I'll wear it for three days and then switch it up with a blazer," she says. "I still love my vintage jeans, my tights, and my pants, though." She didn't start wearing heels, in fact, until a couple of years ago: "I kept watching Ashley walk around in them so gracefully, and I'm such a klutz. But I ended up loving heels, and I don't usually take them off." She wears precisely one pair of flat shoes: Chanel's knee-high patent-leather gladiator sandals. This season, it's Balenciaga's fall collection — all of it — that has Mary-Kate obsessed. She is close to designer Nicolas Ghesquière and says, "He is so talented, but he's the nicest, most down-to-earth guy, and that makes everything he does more brilliant. I bought everything, but I haven't got anything yet," she says like a girl impatiently waiting for Christmas. Will she wear the new pieces with her infamous clodhopper boots? "Uh-huh. Wore them the other day, actually." Mary-Kate always goes with her gut, even if some people (back to those tabloids) don't quite get it. "The tabloids say things about me? What do they say?" she asks archly. "People are going to write what they want, and everyone's going to have their own idea of who I am. But I'm not trying to be friends with the people who are reading them, really." After a rough couple of years filled with near-forensic scrutiny of her weight, she'll have you know that she does eat. "This is not going to sound good," she laughs, "but I like making crispy tofu sticks with peanut sauce. I love my sashimi and my salmon and my vegetables." She observes, "Stress plays a big role in how I look day-to-day. I've always been very active — Pilates, yoga. I grew up horseback riding every day for hours. I love dancing. I usually last longer than anyone on the dance floor." A common image of Mary-Kate has her emerging from a coffee joint with an oversize cup. "I always get creamed for having my Starbucks cup," she says, sighing. "But the only time people get photos of me is when I'm getting coffee, when I can't sneak away from the camera." She also resents the pictorial implication that she and Ashley are dilettantes. "They take photos of us going into our offices, and it's 'Mary-Kate and Ashley shopping again.' But I'm going to work for eight hours, and we're working so hard. ..." She trails off. "It just shows how people want to think of you." Mary-Kate is not above celeb watching herself, however. Newly obsessed with Victoria Beckham, she notes she avidly watched Beckham's Coming to America documentary: "She's running around in a bikini and heels, and I'm like, Oh, my God! I do that, too!" How positively Grey Gardens. "I run around my house naked with heels all the time. It's so funny. All my friends will tell you I love running around in kimonos and jewelry or naked with jewelry." More people will be watching Mary-Kate soon, thanks to her role in the Emmy-nominated Weeds. "I am a very good Christian girl," she says with a wink. "She has her moral beliefs — and she happens to smoke pot." Of her newest cast member, Kohan adds, "Mary-Kate is complicated. She's a big celebrity, a huge media icon, but you have to separate the media images from someone who has the same issues, the same desires, as anyone else." Of course, Mary-Kate's image, in all its incarnations — from high fashion to small screen — is her strongest asset. And she has yet to settle on one. "I feel like I've lived 10 different lives already and I'm only 21," she says, almost as a reminder to herself. "But I also feel like I'm entering a new chapter." One thing on which she is clear, though: She doesn't need to be looked at all the time. What would she do for a day if she were invisible? "I would probably go to a restaurant with my friends, who would be able to see me, of course," she adds pragmatically, "and I would sit outside and enjoy a nice lunch with them. Then I would walk down the street." The old soul takes a sip of her little-girl-sweet hot chocolate. "That's what I would do."

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.2

Getting back to your little one story cottage, you can only manage to rush in and run about in a mad dash as you try to accomplish getting ready for work and getting something to eat. Running through choices in your head as you change and freshen up, nothing sounds good. There's not much time since your shift starts at nine and to make it to the store you need to leave by eight twenty. You got home at eight fifteen, and while Nate, your manager, has never seemed to give a fuck what you did at work you're still in your probationary period and would like to keep the easiest job you've ever had.

It's a really simple gig, seeing as the store you work at is actually a front for some illegal activity. The variety of crime you aren't sure of, but you are aware there's no way you guys do no business and yet they can afford to pay thirty dollars an hour. Thankfully just keeping your mouth shut and being nice to little Jo, the owner's daughter, is enough to keep you in the cushiest job in the world. The store's front is a regular old book store, all the books are real, the registers work, you're able to sell books and you've run to the bank to do the weekly deposits twice for Book & Nook. The front is very legitimate or it would be if the amount of customers ever equaled the sales made.

Again you don't ask questions, because for thirty dollars an hour you get to goof off for a couple hours a day, plus you get a bonus when you watch little Jo at the shop. She's a real sweet eleven year old, she's got tourettes and took a shine to you the first time she saw you tic. While you both might not suffer the same disorder she finds the common ground nice, like it's not just her. It's not even hard to watch her or enjoy her company, she'll come bouncing in with her excited chittering and hands clapping spilling all the latest gossip that comes with being in middle school. And boy is there a lot of gossip.

It's really nice seeing that Jo has friends at school and is even considered a “popular” kid. You remember how tough school was because no one understood you and teachers never cared enough about your personality to bring up the fact that it was clear to most faculty members that you had Autism. You excelled academically so what did it matter if you got picked on for oversharing information or for finishing assignments the minute they were handed to you. As bittersweet as the parallels are you're so glad Jo doesn't have to go through that. Never would have thought a southern school could be so accepting, much less a middle school at that.

Tearing through the kitchen you honestly can't find anything that you want to eat right now. And even after a long night of hiking/dissociating you don't think you're that peckish at all. Figuring it's best to at least take something to quell any future nausea you grab a Pedialyte Pop from the freezer. As fast as you entered your home you left, and not before ensuring twice that the door was locked and secured. While living on the outskirts of town saves you from many potential robberies, and worse salesmen, there's still the chance of some lunatic with an ax hiding out in a closet to murder you. Better safe now than sorry later.

Pulling into park behind the shop right at nine is a blessing. You run into the shop to clock in blurting out a quick 'Morning' to Nate, who was carrying a particularly large box, as you passed by him. In a flash you were back at your car retrieving your newly prized deer skull. Lungs burning a bit from the all out sprint you just did you took a little extra time to close the trunk and lock your car up to catch your breath, and avoid any light headiness you might get from the empty stomach workout. Eager to share the wonders of death with your best work friends, and by that you mean Nate your manager...and only other coworker, you rush back into the building.

The shop was quiet as usual as you made your way through the door though you were in the back room where only employees could roam you had the slightest suspicion that the front of shop was just the same. It's there you find Nate, now lugging a medium sized box around to a side table. He did this a lot you suspect some type of smuggling but hey plausible deniability and all those legal matters. The taller dark haired man sees you and just as he's about to wave you over, notices your prize with a raised brow.

“The fuck d'you bring in the store?” he doesn't seem amused by whatever it is he thinks you're up to. “Deer skull.” Lifting it up in one hand and pointing at it, “Found this guy on my hike last night...or rather this morning actually.”

“YN, we talked about this, you said you'd get some sleep last night. No adventures remember.” he's only two years older than you and yet he acts as if he's ten years. He must be an old soul, or enjoys the role of care giver...or you're making him go gray prematurely, anything's possible.

“Eh, I remember saying I'd 'try' and get sleep.” for someone who's body is running on fumes your cheekiness is astronomical, “operative word being 'try', remember.”

It's a long silence as Nate decides if he wants to deal with your bullshit at this moment. After a minute or so he concedes leaning back on the table behind him. “Let's hear it.” and you perk up immediately.

“Cool, so I was walking along the tree line and spotted him, tried to find more but seems there's only one piece. Judging by the size of his antlers I'd say he was nearly fully grown. Now my plan is to do whatever treatments taxidermists do to bones and,” you continue to word vomit at the tired twenty-six year old in front of you, about the joys and wonders of taxidermy and the likely hood of ever finding a skull so nicely preserved.

“I can do that in here right?” even though it's been phrased as a question, you aren't asking permission, you're just being polite and letting Nate know the storage room will house your creepy deer skull antics for today...maybe the week you need to find a taxidermist book to figure out what you need to do.

Nate gives up and leaves with his box of new books to let you have full run of the back to do your weird vulture culture shit. He figures he's just too old to understand the new obsessions with the macabre. He hopes his cousin won't take to shit like this, the kid's weird enough as it is, no need to put another target on her back. Nate sets off to take down the Harry Potter sets in favor of this new comic series little Jo wanted.

Already taking his silence as the go ahead you place your found skull on the table and rush off into the store front to find a book on taxidermy and hopefully more specifically about bones. The set up and organization of the store reminds you a lot of the scene in Brendan Fraser's The Mummy 1997 where Evie is on the ladder and somehow causes all the book shelves to fall like dominoes. So unsafe, yet all book stores and libraries seem to have this set up. With the tall shelves it makes it difficult to accurately get a read on the spines. You don't even know what section taxidermy actually falls under, education maybe?

“Nate, where do you think a book on taxidermy would be?” you called out as you passed by him.

“...hobby?” that didn't sound right but you'd give it a shot anyway.

This should be fun, the hobby section was so disorganized and it took up nearly half the store too, Book & Nook had everything from fishing, to crochet, cooking, the art of film making, hell even had a cryptid hunting book a book that you may have to look into a bit later. You closed your eyes and let your intuition guide you, when you looked up you saw a thin black...vine, no whisp? It undulates in less than rhythmic movements nearly like a snake but it has no head, and not unlike a tentacle but without suckers. It's another hallucination so you were keen to ignore it until it stretched past your head, giving you an added auditory hallucination where you swore you could hear wind rushing past your ears, it swirled around you until it flew to the shelf and tapped on a book. Cautiously you walked over to it, it's never good to play into these delusions. Once you got close enough the black shape was gone but on the shelf was a creme colored paper back titled “Manual of Taxidermy: Complete Guide of Preserving Birds and Mammals.”

Walking to Nate with the book in your hands you asked him to read it and make sure you weren't having an episode and making everything up right now. You'd have to try harder to go to sleep tonight if that were the case.

“Oh you found your book huh?” he said looking down at the title.

Well this is getting weird fast, but you nod nonetheless. Might as well thank the weird hallucination gift right. Leaving him to do whatever it is he plans on doing the rest of the day, you go to the back. And just as the book instructs you set to cleaning the skull by setting it in some water and changing it as many times as the water runs murky. The book is quiet helpful to a beginner like yourself but it does seem a bit outdated from the bits of information you know from taxidermists blogs and vulture culture posts on the internet. Reading it in between water changes is a great way to pass the time though, not like you guys get any real customers anyways.

The bell rings as the front door opens and closes alerting you to someone's arrival on your third water change. Needing a little bit of mental stimulation you walk out into the front where Big Jo and Little Jo are talking to Nate. Little Jo sees you and skitters away from her father to rush you, she stops about a foot away and holds her arms wide open. She's a hugger but upon meeting you had never even thought people could be touch adverse so keeping in mind that you might not want to be touched she's learned to invite you into hugs and it's your choice to allow it or not. Placing a hand on your bicep you give a squeeze, checking your tolerance you find the thought bearable. Placing your arms outstretched at your sides Jo rushes your torso for her hug.

After she nearly body slammed you into the wall, and  let her death grip go she was off on a tangent about so many things. Her excited rapid blinking tic, one she developed after meeting you, triggering your own.

“Ok so you remember how last week I told you that Jessie Kinsleton said that Micheal Saleisa told Gigi B, not Gigi S. that Meghan,” you had no clue the lives of eleven year olds had gotten so complex, from the gossip you heard from Jo it seemed that the school's sixth graders were plotting for a war with an ice cream parlor up the street. No clue why, maybe just to fuck the system, kids are weird, preteens are weirder...and angry.

But you nod to Jo listening to her every word, and trying to calm your eyelids so you could actually open your eyes. After being told the sequence of events that would happen in the Tween Armageddon, something to do with Marco Salvator ordering three dozen donuts and a flock of geese, your eyes finally gained their ability to see back. Black whisps, much like the one from earlier, wandered all around your vision, it looked like a  dark smoke had settled eye level within the shop and was snaking through the isles.

Catching the movement of your eyes Jo looked around the shop too. Seeing nothing she turned back to you concerned, “Hey it's okay, nothin's there.”

Hearing the drop in volume of the normally chatty tween, Big Jo and Nate pause their conversation to turn their attention to you and follow you're gaze.

“Kid, you ain't sleepin' again?” Big Jo can already gauge by the bags under your eyes but he's a polite man so he feels the need to ask rather than state his assumptions.

“Day 6.” You answer simply, ever since you've started at Book & Nook the whole Cowell family became acutely aware of many of your disorders. By their record your longest time spent awake was ten days, you however adamantly say that you were an hour's mark away from ten full days so the longest you've been up is nine days in a row. And those are just the cases they know of since you've moved to Kepler.

Big Jo shook his head as a stern father would, which he is, “I have half the mind to send you home to rest.”

“That won't work.” you really don't mean to sound so coarse but it's so irritating having to go over this at least once a week.

“What about those gummy things Dia got you?”

“Long term that kind of stuff has no effect, sure it'll make me drowsie for an hour or two but even if it made me sleep one night I can't use it all the time. And before you ask the same questions again, caffeine has no real effect on me so limiting my intake will do nothing and weed doesn't do a thing for me either.” you state plainly, monotone as you present facts that everyone in the room already knows.

Looking at the stern face of Big Jo's and the exasperated face of Nate you continue, “I know it must be frustrating for you to not be able to help, but I'm content living like this. I like my late night adventures and when I do sleep it's really pleasant.”you threw in a smile for added comfort.

“Kid tha's not the point, there's somethin' wrong with you, medically I mean.” he's pinching the bridge of his nose, probably counting to ten to calm himself from raising his voice.

“Tons of people suffer from insomnia and there isn't anything a doctor could do for me except look for underlying conditions.” Big Jo's about to retort when you continue with, “Plus my dad and uncle both have insomnia as well so my case is due to the genetic lottery I lost.” You say with a hint of finality of your situation, you had to come to terms with this condition all the way back in high school. Having a decade to get used to your strange condition and the limitations it places on you from time to time. Whereas the Cowell family's only had two months to process this information, and you understand it'll take awhile before they stop being concerned. Same thing happened with you parents and friends back then too.

For now you're only met with more head shakes as if they were saying 'what are we going to do with you'. Leaving your medical issues aside Nate and Big Jo continue to talk shop, when the set up Nate just put on display catches Jo's eye.

Like lightening the tween was away from your side and by the new display shelf it looked like it held graphic novels. That's a first since you've been here, you walk over to join Jo knowing the second you do she'll start on about what's got her so excited. Most people might say you over indulge the child and coddle her but you actually just think it's really important to take interest in what makes kids happy. It helps them find their voices and also shows them that it's normal to get excited and like things.

“We got the TAZ graphic novels in?!” you hate rhetorical questions but smile and nod at her anyway.

“Have you read them? No, well you've listen to the podcast...what omg! Ok so there's these three brothers and their,” Jo begins regaling you with tales from the podcast known as The Adventure Zone and how fun they've made dungeons and dragons seem with their amazing story telling and funny characters.

You aren't sure if a show where the main group of heroes being called Tres Horny Bois is exactly age appropriate but when you look to Big Jo he kind of just shrugs it off. Turning you attention back to Jo who's now monologing about mongooses you just smile at the weird family you've found yourself in.

Let it be said that a tween with a slightly unhealthy fixation on something can find anyway to drag it back to that fixation. The day flew by with Jo explain the inner workings of dungeons and dragons, fifth edition, to you, her father, and her cousin after you mentioned why she didn't play. Apparently she'd love to but wanted a story fitting for her friend's to adventure. So being the good older cousin, father, and weird family friend you all were you came up with a story plot for her to use with her campaign.

The Jos had a lot of fun bonding over this little workshop and you guys even had food delivered so you and Nate could stay later. What was meant to just be a quick workshop turned into a mini family game night after you made several nearly impossible puzzles that wouldn't be used in Jo's campaign due to no one at the current table understanding how to solve it even after you showed them several times.

Overall it was fun and you think you might actually be tired enough to go to sleep tonight. You tried to stay and help clean up but Big Jo put his foot down and told you to go get some rest, he'd seen the way you occasionally look around the room as if something was moving behind them all. You may have started off as a cashier two months ago for him but his daughter has opened up a lot since meeting you and discovering that tics aren't so uncommon and there are people who wouldn't care or make a big deal out of them. Because of that you've earned your keep in his family, he already has you down on the list for Christmas cards.

Knowing you can't fight the six foot four man you roll your eyes and bid everyone good night, little Jo coming in to steal another hug from you and thank you for helping with her game. Checking on your skull you see the water's clear and dump it in the sink of the break room before leaving the skull to dry overnight, it's for sure gonna make Nate scream tomorrow, you can't help but chuckle at that.

Leaving through the back door and into the dusk colored parking lot you notice your trunk is popped open slightly. You definitely heard it shut earlier this morning. You blink before your head jerks to the right, unsettled by possibility of a break in and not risking it you head back inside.

“Hey, I think my car may have been broken into.” you stand awkwardly in the door way unsure of how to proceed.

Big Jo and Nate are out of the door as fast as they can. They find your car unlocked with the trunk popped, you know they weren't trying to brush you off when they asked several times if you did in fact lock your car this morning. After hearing your affirmative response each time, they began to inspect your car checking to make sure all wires are properly secured under the hood, Nate even retrieved the jack out of his own car to take a look under the car, ensuring the brakes hadn't been messed with. They started the car up just fine and it didn't appear tampered with. Even though nothing looked out of place and Nate's car, sitting in the same parking lot, hadn't been touched you appreciated them checking to make sure you were alright.

Knowing you're perceived as a woman by most, even outside of this small town, makes you uneasy when it comes to terms of abductions and violence. You know the chances and hear the stories whether it's from the victim's mouth or a podcaster's telling the story the dead can't. Nate offered to follow you home and make sure you were ok but you declined and said you'd call them both when you got home. Big Jo said to just call his home phone because Nate would be coming over tonight anyway, and if they didn't make it there before you called Dia was already at home and would pass the message along. You'll probably still try and give the shop a call if Dia answers, it wouldn't sit right with you if you wound everyone up just to not and at least try to settle their nerves.

With one final check of you car, the men even going so far as to lift seats up and feel under them, they sent you off. You drove carefully on the road tonight, ready to pull off into the shoulder at the slightest hint that something was wrong. Not even the radio was on something that you really didn't like driving without, but if there was the chance for you to catch a shift in tone of the machine you wanted to. Eventually you did end up making it home in one piece and you had called the Cowell family home, from the safety of your car, and got a spazztic eleven year old asking if you'd made it home alright. It took a little bit of coaxing but Little Jo calmed down and shouted to her parents that you were on the phone and alright.

“Kid,” looks like Big Jo took the phone away from Little Jo, “Everything ok on the drive.” Big Jo could hear the movement and shutting of your car door, he'd have to say he was relieved you waited until you were on the phone before exiting. He knew you lived out past the quiet zone in Old Lydia's house. A fact that did little for the unease he felt when he thought you were being watched.

“Oh, yea drive was fine, too quiet but fine.” you said simply as you began circling the cottage. Nothing seemed out of place on the outside, even looking above eye level where people tended to get sloppy in stalking or home invasion cases, everything seemed fine.

“Hope you don't mind if I keep you for a bit.” You had just unlocked your door and stepped in.

“Nah, kid 's fine.” you give a hum of acknowledgment as you look through the kitchen in cabinets, under cupboards, and even under the table.

“You're a smart kid.” he's taken that fatherly overtone that makes you roll your eyes. You understand the sentiment of parents and parental figures having pride in their child or ward but it's always been so weird to you when they feel the need to bring it up. Especially when they bring it up in situations that are dangerous, like can you not make it sound like someone's about to die.

Finding nothing in the living room, hall closet or bathroom you make sure all the windows are locked and dowels are in place to keep them from opening. And you double check that both the back and front doors are secured. You can hear the hushed whispers on the other end of the line, Dia must have just found out about your car, as you rustle through your kitchen utensil drawers taking out two forks before you make your way to your bedroom.

Once in your room you checked your closet and under your bed. Finding nothing you  went to the window in your room, the one right by your bed, you checked the lock, secured it in place with two dowels, and then covered it throwing a thick blanket over the curtain rod to ensure no one would be viewing you in your sleep or the precautions you were about to do. Turing around and locking your bedroom door you then jam one fork into the closed door crease, right below the locking mechanism, and jammed the other fork perpendicular through the prongs. You attempted to open the door with all your weight but only could get an inch in before the forks would stop more movement.

“Kid you alright over there?” it's rushed, he probably heard the commotion with your make shift lock.

“Yea, just had to add another lock to the door.” you trust the Cowell's but you understand how stupid it'd be to let them know exactly how you were defending yourself. Even if it wasn't them there's no telling if the person who broke into your car was outside and just good at hiding. You could also be too jumpy from your true crime shows but you figure it's better to be safe.

“I think everything's good Big Jo.” taking a final glance around your room eye's landing on the bed, “Think I'm even ready to go to sleep tonight too.” a small half laugh leaves your mouth.

“Alright kid, you call if you need anything got it.” it's an order not a request.

“Got it, good night.” Big Jo might think that'd been rude coming from anyone else but from you he can only roll his eyes at the brevity and the dial tone he's met with. He has his own sweep to do, if they were targeting his employee there was a reason. He hasn't had any problems since coming to Kepler but someone always eventually comes along who can't take a hint.

Even combing through your home with Big Jo on the line you didn't feel safe having your bed by the window anymore and moved it away and in front of the closet door. You'd rearrange your room later but for tonight this would have to do. By some grace of god you were actually able to shut your brain down tonight and rest. Maybe it was the excitement and merriment from hanging out with the Cowells or more likely the situation you find yourself in of perhaps being a target for something insidious.

Whatever the case may be you are off to the land of dreams before you know it. And unbeknownst to you the same eyes from this morning watch your home. They may not have seen what you did in there but they'd be sure to catch you when you come out. They'll wait all night to catch you if they have to.

[soulmate-game]

Upon further consideration. Even though it is entirely the wrong ecosystem and I know I already said that Merman!Adrien was born in the coral reefs. But. He totally looks like a betta fish. This guy is colorful and has long, beautiful fins and he totally has little neck fins that pop out when he’s angry (but just make him look even more adorable to everyone else). Like, if the mer-community cared at all about photography, he would still be an underwater model. Does everyone forget the fact that he’s one of the fastest swimmers in the School and definitely a vicious fighter when he needs to be? Yes. Yes they do.

Meanwhile, I don’t know you guys caught my little Easter egg before. But I totally want to make the Gotham Sirens all actual sirens in this AU. Because it works, and it’s funny. So here’s the rundown;

Selina Kyle: I want her based on an iridescent shark— which isn’t a shark, it’s a species of catfish. Which is... maybe partly why I chose it. Because of this, her tail is all her black, but in the right light some of her body is iridescent and shines with soft blues and purples. This isn’t bioluminescence like with a deep sea mermaid, it’s just the color of her skin shifting in the right light like glitter. I say skin, because she doesn’t have scales (iridescent sharks have no scales). So her tail is smooth and slippery. Great for escapes. Being a siren, some of her features are exaggerated even on her fish half. So, her tail fin is more flowy and feathery, almost like a beta fish’s but not nearly as long, and the edges of the tail fin are extra thin, so that they shine and are extra iridescent even in dim lighting. She doesn’t have whiskers, but she does have minor control over her hair. She can control how it floats or falls in order to evoke a certain aesthetic, and the tips of her hair do act as weak sensors. She can’t grab anything with it though, it’s kind of like if you can wiggle your ears. You can move it, but you can’t really... do much with that.

Harley Quinn: totally based off a Mandarinfish/ mandarin dragonet. She has a shorter tail than most mermaids, but it’s much wider and rounder. She has a long torso though, with a decently large, rounded dorsal fin on the middle of her spine. She is very, very colorful. You can tell she is meant to be a siren that captivates immediately, whereas Selina is more of a siren that was meant to allure with mystery. Harley is all bright blues and reds and the occasional dash of pink, supplemented by a few black spots and outlines to bring the other colors into sharper focus. She isn’t fast like Selina, but she is small and agile and very hard to grab ahold of. Her fins are very thin and delicate, but soft and incredibly flexible so they are almost impossible to grab and keep hold of. She is also scaleless like Selina, and her tail naturally produces a mucus that is enhanced by her Siren genes. Instead of being a smelly deterrent, Harley’s natural mucus is actually a quick-acting toxin that can be absorbed by the skin and induces hallucinations. She can control when she does or doesn’t produce it. She still keeps her hair up in pigtails (her hair is mostly blonde, but her fish half does color the tips of each side of her hair so she still has the split blue-and-pink look. Only natural this time). Don’t underestimate her just because she is much more compact in size than a normal siren/mer-person. She has a surprising amount of strength in her upper body to compensate for her lack of easily maneuverable tail.

Poison Ivy: I couldn’t quite decide which species I wanted most, but I knew immediately she had to be an eel mermaid. She’s still very environmentalist and all about protecting the oceans, she will straight up terrify to death anyone she catches dumping in the ocean. Litterbugs, beware. But we’re gonna go with a mix of a dragon moray eel and a snowflake moray. Her main body is dark green, but she has black-and-orange spots down her body and tail. Some look like leaves, others look like skulls. Really, it’s like an ink blot test so it mostly depends on whether or not she’s trying to intimidate the people who see her. Scared people will see skulls, people who are on her good side will usually fondly pick out leaf-patterns (Harley). And she still lives up to the nickname Poison Ivy (humans have this name to her, and she liked it) because she entire body is riddled with different toxins. Like Harley, her body can produce a toxic mucus— but Ivy’s mucus-toxin just makes the victim very drowsy and uncoordinated. Her kiss is also toxic, and is boosted by her Siren powers. Anyone she kisses, as long as she wills it, is temporarily mindlessly in love with her and will work to please her even without her having to say anything. This can be as simple as saving her from a tough situation to... more. Ivy is also the largest of the three infamous Sirens, clocking in at right about ten feet long from head to the tip of her tail, and she is the most physically strong. She suffers a bit in the mobility department purely because of how big her body is, but she is still extremely agile and quick-striking. She often hides amongst kept forests and dense seaweed because she likes plants more than people, but also because her body easily camouflages amongst the similar shapes and colors. Both a captivator and a mysterious beauty in her own right, she has skills that match both Selina and Harley in the Siren department, but it’s tempered by the fact that Ivy is the most quick to attack. Harley enjoys playing with her prey much more, Ivy just does what she needs to be able to get to the violent part. She is picky in her prey, however, in that she really prefers only preying on those who harm the ocean.

General siren information for this AU (or my take on it, anyway). Sirens do have a few common traits that solidify them as one distinct race of Mer-people even with each one usually taking on very different fish-traits. The most well known is a siren’s Charm ability, in which they can use their voice to captivate an audience and perform minor hypnosis. This can be done through both singing and regular speech, as long as their voice is in use and they are putting care into the types of tones they are using. The Charm ability becomes entirely ineffective on other mer-people once they realize that a Siren is not a normal mer-person and even if they don’t know, other mer-people are resistant to the Charm effect. It can only be as potent as social manipulation on other sea dwellers, and cannot make a mermaid or merman do something too far out of their normal character. For humans, knowing they are being Charmed allows them to slowly build up a resistance to the charm’s effect. If they build up enough resistance, then they become effectively immune unless caught off guard. A Charmed human will do almost anything the siren demands, as long as it is not drastic enough to shock the human out of the mind control (i.e telling them to kill a loved one or jump to their death knowingly).

Sirens are largely carnivores, where normal mer-people are omnivores. Some sirens (Ivy) do participate in eating humans, but it is known to be fairly unhealthy (like eating junk food) so it is now done mostly in moderation. Sirens have two sets of teeth, but unlike Deep Sea mermaids, neither set is retractable. The set that is visible is human-like, while behind those human teeth hides a set of needle-like teeth that can slightly extend further out of the gums when necessary for hunting but cannot be completely hidden. These teeth are backward’s curving, like giant snake teeth, and it is notoriously difficult to escape a Siren’s bite.

Sirens, unlike other mer-people, actually do have a need for air and cannot breathe under water. They can hold their breath for hours at a time and speak under water, much like dolphins, but they need to break the surface for air at least once or twice a day. This, of course, leads to more contact with humans.

Sirens are the only mer-people who can develop legs. This happens when they let themselves completely dry out, and if they desire to they can morph their tail into two legs. Their legs will never look human however, as their toes will be webbed and everything below their bellybutton will still be the same colors and pattern as when it is a tail, along with any scales or armor plates they might have remaining. A siren can only maintain this shape for a maximum of forty-eight hours before their skin dries out too much and they start to get dehydrated. Immediately upon contact with water over three inches deep, their legs will begin to re-morph into a tail. Splashing the skin with small amounts of water will only delay dehydration for a maximum of an extra twenty-four hours, as the body consumes water faster than it can be replaced by splashing or small amounts of rain.

That’s what I got :) hope you like it!

[musclesandhammering]

Non-Controversial Loki Headcanons for These Trying Times

1.) Loki has had dozens of Midgard-based aliases over the years, for no other reason than the fact that he was bored and it was funny. DB Cooper was one of them. Hank Williams was another. He may or may not have even pretended to be a vampire at some point.

2.) Loki can definitely sing. Not just in a funny ironic way, but like.. he actually enjoys singing. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise considering he’s such a fine arts nerd, but yeah. He plays the guitar too. Surprisingly folksy.

3.) Loki’s rooms in Asgard literally look like a witch’s lair. I mean straight up spooky. All dark earth tones, spellbooks strewn everywhere, runes drawn on the walls to keep certain big brothers from messing with things they have no business messing with, vials of poisonous stuff sitting on every available surface, shelves full of strange little trinkets and talismans, a dramatic ass medieval-looking bed, a whole ass cauldron… and then in the corner on a stand there’s his Hank Williams Guitar aasdfghhjkl-

4.) When people call Loki a witch, they’re not joking. He’s. Like. An actual stereotypical, like.. witch. He doesn’t just do finger wavy magic- he mixes potions, he does rune work, he recites spells, he has a cauldron.

5.) He also used to dress super witchy. Used to. Past tense. I’m talking black nail polish, lots of necklaces, rings, eyes makeup (ok maybe I wouldn’t go that far, but Loki in eyeliner would be pretty hot, right?), clothes that were like.. 15% scarier yet more fashionable than the ones he wears in canon. The only reason he toned it down was because someone whose opinion he cared about (it was Thor) made a joking comment about his appearance looking “wicked” or “evil” and it made him feel self conscious, so he changed how he dressed. :(

6.) He was rocking the whole short hair look years before Thor in Ragnarok. In fact, by pre-canon Loki’s standards, his hair in Thor 1 was even a bit too long. He did this because a.) he hates how his natural curls soften him and will do anything to get rid of them and b.) in Asgard short hair wasn’t really worn by noblemen because it symbolised servitude, so this was Loki’s subtle way of being defiant and deviating from the norm.

7.) As Frigga said in Endgame, Loki is very good at sneaking. Even when he’s not trying to. There have been many-an-accident in the Palace of Asgard because he unintentionally almost gave Thor a heart attack.

8.) Loki and Thor weren’t always at each other’s throats. They actually got along pretty well up until Odin started planning for the coronation. Loki was still jealous of the way Thor was treated compared to the way he was treated, but he knew that wasn’t Thor’s fault- not really. And Thor was still arrogant and entitled, but that was mostly directed at other people and not his own family, so while Loki knew about Thor’s character flaws, it didn’t really effect him personally. When the planning started, though, Thor gradually became even more superior and insufferable than normal, and Loki became even more bitter and unsettled, and their relationship just kind of went downhill from there.

9.) Loki absolutely joined the Mile High Club with that flight attendant from the first episode of the show. Her name was Florence and she was adorable, Loki thought so too.

10.) Loki’s the only person on Asgard who can beat Volstagg at an eating competition. He has a giant’s metabolism, after all. And, contrary to his elegant and refined tastes in most other areas, he’s actually a straight-up carnivore. I mean he eats other foods too, obviously, but meats are by far his favourites. Boar, fish, poultry, steak. Just meats. He doesn’t know it, but this is because frost giants are mostly carnivorous.

11.) His relationship with the Warriors 4 was always split down the middle. He and Sif always hated each other. Hogun never trusted him and Loki never had any interest in spending time with Hogun. Fandral and Volstagg, on the other hand, were always much nicer and Loki always sort of considered them his friends as well as Thor’s. This is why they were more reluctant to believe that he’d let the frost giants in in Thor 1.

12.) I refuse to believe Loki doesn’t have at least one tattoo somewhere. Probably more. Probably of a snake. The only parts of his body we didn’t see naked in Episode 1 were his thighs, lower back, knee area, pelvic region, and the back of his neck. So it’s gotta be in one of those places. (Might I suggest: snake thigh tattoo, tiny nape tat, goth tramp stamp lol, rune tat behind his ear, Norse mythos leg tat, badass above-dick tattoo).

13.) Loki’s prickly and insecure and has layers like an onion, but once you get to the point of actually being friends with him, he’s a total sweetheart. I mean a literal smol dork. A bit hyperactive and excitable, but still very very soft. It’s because he’s had so few actual friends in his life.

14.) Sometimes Loki only goes a few days before his gender changes, sometimes he stays one gender for years at a time. And he tends to shapeshift his body to match. That being said, one of his biggest pet peeves is how his other-gendered clothes get all dusty and musty when they have to stay in the closet for long stretches of time. So he’s taken to wearing luxurious gowns around the house when he’s in his male form. You know, just to air them out.

15.) Loki hates sleeping with people. Sex is fine, but he’s just so solitary and paranoid that he’s never been comfortable sleeping in a bed with another person. This may or may not have gotten him in trouble a few times when his partners woke up and found him gone lol.

16.) Laufey is actually incredibly similar to Loki, the way Odin is very similar to Thor. He prefers smaller blades (ice daggers), he’s very analytical and calculating, he’s very calm and non-confrontational even when he’s in a stressful situation, and tbh he seems like a better king than Odin- much like Loki probably would’ve been a better kind than Thor. (Whoopsie this one’s a bit controversial)

17.) Loki adores animals! …But he’s also a bit obsessive about keeping his environment clean. Not organised, per se, just clean. And animals tend to be hairy and slobbery and feathery and slimy and poopy and dirty, so he’s never been able to have a pet. He just takes a lot of nature walks to compensate :)

18.) All jotuns are naturally intersex, including Loki. This is a bit unusual for Asgardians, but because Loki is genderfluid and a natural-born shapeshifter- and has always had a tendency to change his body parts around as his gender changes (male, female, both, neither)- he’s never had a reason to find it very odd. In hindsight, that was one of the many eccentricities that should have made him realise something was a little fishy with his “asgardian” genetics.

19.) The snake + stabbing story from Ragnarok was nowhere near as nefarious as Thor made it seem. What actually happened was: Someone accidentally mixed a real knife in with the blunted practice knives. Thor and Loki didn’t know this, of course, and when they were playing a battle game, Loki ended up with the real knife. When Loki “won” and went to “vanquish his enemy” he ended up actually stabbing Thor for real. They were both hysterical and it took longer to calm Loki down than his brother. It ended up just being a flesh wound, though, so everything turned out fine.

20.) A lot of people think Loki discovered his “secret passageways between worlds” from TDW through some sort of inter-realm questing or magical study or something, but in reality, he discovered them when he was like 16 and desperately trying to find a way to sneak out of Asgard without Heimdall telling his parents.

Tagging @natures-marvel & @little-s-creampuff for expressing interest. Thx for listening to my mad ravings lmao <3

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Pet Owners Part 1

Owning pets is rare for nations because a true nation’s pet has a bond with their owners as much as they do the land. Many of their pets don’t really have something they represent inexactness, it's just they were there when the nation was born, and they bonded. No one can really explain how they come to find their owners, both parties just know.

Some nations don’t have the nation pet, but instead either found a mythical creature or own regular pets that will eventually die.

America – A big black shaggy dog. Allen has owned Makwa since he was a small child. No matter where he went Makwa would follow. This mini mammoth is very protective of Allen and has bitten Oliver many times. This dog has even followed Allen into war zones. Their bond is as deep as man and dog can go.

He is Allen’s best friend and more often than not the wall he bounces off of. Whether he is venting, planning, or just sleepy mumbling, Allen takes the time to talk to Makwa.

England – Flying Chocolate Bunny (FCB) and Flying Strawberry Bunny (FSB). These mythical evil bunnies are downright monsters. Unlike his 1p that has only one, Oliver has two. Both nations discovered their bunny allies together, but instead of taking just one. Oliver decided to take two. They were found when the nations were about 150 yrs old.

Since mythical creatures have longer lifespans, they aren’t nation pets and die much later than an average pet.

FCB has red beady eyes and is the color of dark chocolate. His wings are shaped more like raptor’s wings and have a white chocolate underside to his wings. FCB often twitches and drools and looks like he is about to eat the nearest piece of flesh. He is known for being wilder and more chaotic, he does some of the dirty work for Oliver by getting physically involved. Scratching and biting Oliver’s victims, slowly driving them mad by wounds made from an unseen force.

FSB on the other hand is much sweeter. She is a light red with small yellow spots. Her wings look like a swan's, and have a light green underwing. Her eyes are small beady and green. FSB looks like a toy rabbit, small and fluffy. She is Oliver’s eyes and ears. She spies on whomever Oliver asks her to and takes the time to ensure that Oliver has whatever information that he needs. When Oliver had many colonies she was the one sent to spy on them. She is quick and knows how to use magic to shorten her fly time.

Oliver loves his bunnies and feeds them a lot of cupcakes and meat. He spoils them with fancy beds and toys. Though he does expect them to earn their keep with various tasks given by him.

Canada – A big white polar bear. Kuma is Canada’s oldest frenemy, over the years they have traded blows and saved each other. The amount of trust these two have is unrivaled by any other nation and their pets. Kuma has been with Canada since he was about a week old. Kuma is a typical adult polar bear with a scar across his left shoulder and it splits his fur.

Canada’s scars on his chest come from Kuma. They got really intense in a fight one day and came at each other for blood. That same fight gave Kuma his scar. Both winded up extremely wounded and ignored each other for a week before making up.

Over the years Kuma mostly follows Matt’s orders. But occasionally Kuma acts like a brat and ignores Canada. Kuma has his own little house outside that Canada built, but he also has a huge mat on the floor inside Matt’s cabin.

Japan – Koi. Like it’s been said before, Japan likes koi. They are beautiful and he owns many. He has been keeping them since he was physically about 12 years old. He has a pond that connects to a tank within his home. It is a huge tank that has all the proper fixings that allow for a comfortable space for his fish.

He invests heavily in the industry and always checks the farms himself when he has the time. Many family farms know of Kurai, at least a fake name he puts out, and newer farms hope to receive his blessings. His name carries a lot of respect and honor for the koi industry and those that don’t meet his standards close shop quickly.

Every so often he will enter his koi in contests. He loves to know that his are the best and has many ribbons from the past ones he has either won or come close to winning.

Germany – A small brown tabby. Luther loves his tiny kitty and spends many a nap with this little baby on his lap. His little tabby is called Winzig and her name is literally her size. Winzig was found by Luther one night after making his way home after a night of drinking about a year ago. She was small and hiding under a box by his apartment. In his drunken stupor, he picked up the kitten without thinking and brought her home. She is actually his third cat.

There were two others he had owned in the past. His first was a calico that was named Schnurrhaare (Whisker). She was very aloof, but they too napped together often. She sadly died in the year 1901. His second cat Axel came to him about 1950 and was a gift from his boss. Axel was a big Mainecoon that looked like a burnt cookie. He acted more like a dog than a cat and Luther loved him. They played fetch together.

None of Luther’s cats have been a true nation pet. So, each one has passed, Winzig is still young and very lively so she has a while still with Luther. Though the other two, Luther has kept their collars and buried them behind his father’s house. He leaves little bits of string on their graves for them.

Rome – This old man had a lion. Not just any lion, the extinct European lion. Mars was the name of this old boy and Rome had him from the time he was a child. At first, Mars was unsure about Rome and chased him. Over time the two became close. Mars didn’t have a huge mane it was more of a gentle fluff around his head and down his chest. His body and head were covered in scars. Mars was known to have a light pale coated rather than the deep dusty color of many of his brethren. He had a regal air about him and Rome cherished his lion a lot.

When Rome passed Mars lived on, but not much longer than Rome. He lived about 5 years while being taken care of by Luciano. Mars being old then, didn’t do much and seemed to enjoy the calm final years that Luciano offered him. He got a bigger and cooler grave than his master did.

Prussia – Alvin is an old destrier and looks like a Percheron. Lightly colored with dark grey boots and muzzle. Alvin has been with Wil since he was born, this stocky little foal just showed up outside and has been with him ever since. Alvin has been Wil’s first pick of steed into every battle that used horses and Alvin like his owner is brave and loyal.

Both master and pet love spending nights together riding through the woods. Prussia gives Alvin lots of training and treats. They are so close that more often than not spend many afternoons together. Alvin is also trained for various horse competitions.

Spain – So we all know this man owns a bull. Idiota is special to Armando even though he won't admit it. When Armando is tending to his fields Idiota is there giving a presentation of an old friend. Many believe that Idiota is a nation pet because of how long he has lived and Spain agrees. As much as he gets angry at his bull being stupid he could never bring himself to part with the bull.

The centuries of being petty with each other make it interesting to both parties. Though in times of danger both have each other's backs. Once during a siege when Spain was young, Idiota was all that stood between him and Rome. Though despite losing, it took Rome impaling the bull and beheading it to keep it from defending a young Spaniard.

Netherland – He has a snake. It’s a simple grass snake that often hangs out with him at home. He loves his little snake and named him Hazel. He says his snake looks like a Hazel. Baas and Hazel go on many adventures when the weather is ok for Hazel. He takes him to the store, to meetings with his boss, and other places. They spend lots of time gathering info on people and just pulling pranks. Baas believes that Hazel enjoys it as much as his master.

 Hazel has a huge terrarium with plenty of space, heating lights, and pools of water. It takes up a whole wall in Baas’ home. It also contains fish and other small creatures that make the tank self-sustaining. 

Baas relates to his danger noodle; in that, he sees himself almost the same as his snake. Both are hidden predators that take care of nasty rats. Which happens to relate to his favorite thing to do with Hazel, feed him.

Austria – A Greater Mouse-Eared Bat, I mean what could be better for him. Austria found Krampus around Christmas time when he heard some noises coming from his attic. Krampus had found his way into the attic and freaked out trying to get out. This caused a tear in his wing, and Austria being surprised by this tiny nightmare.

Austria feeling the spirit of Christmas was compassionate and took care of the bat. First, he forced his way into a vet clinic and had his little Krampus looked at. Krampus's huge tear would heal, but it makes it difficult for him to fly again. That was the vet’s opinion and then went off to call a sanctuary to come and collect the bat. Well, Jon didn’t like that and ran off with Krampus.

Since then Jon has done a lot to ensure his little friend was becoming better. Eventually, the wing healed, but not well enough for flying. So Jon has a little bat that can glide short distances and has a little cave in his home. Krampus gets all the proper nutrition and cleanings.

Though shortly after bringing Krampus home, Jon did call Matt. Matt had some words for Jon when he found out what he did.

Switzerland – This man loves goat cheese, so obviously he wanted goats. He and his 1p own a small herd together that they both manage. Vash does most of the physical labor while Hans makes them look good for competition and takes care of their papers. 

They are all Swiss breeds and earn their keep by giving milk. They have a great life with all the latest things for goat care. Hans even personally watches the new items get installed to ensure that it is done right and that his goats are given something nice. 

Hans pets them often and coos to them as he does. He keeps plenty of treats on hand, to the point all the herd runs toward him wanting treats.

Iceland – Mr. Puffin or Puff as Iceland calls him. This is puffin is nothing like his gangster 1p. He wears a small top hat and monocle. He is much more gentlemanly and often speaks about how Iceland could be better behaved. He often says things like stand straight, address the lady with respect, and so on. Unlike most nations and their pets growing up at the same rate, Puff was an adult when he met baby Iceland. Which concerned 2p Norway, because he could have been some kind of monster trying to destroy his new colony. One of the few times Norway showed concern for Iceland.

Though being the typical expectation for nation pets, Iceland loves Puff. They spend time together going about and causing havoc and attempting to win Norway’s attention. Though Puff still tells Iceland that there are better things to do than pursue Norway, but Iceland wants his brother’s love and acceptance.

Puff does his best to keep Iceland under control and professional, but he fails often. Though he refuses to give up and rather would keep on taking care of his young ward.

[beelspillowpet]

Ooo can I request hcs of the bros with an MC who has snakes? Specifically a boa constrictor? Cause... I have one, hes stupid as hell but really chill and I love him fhdkshj

I’m personally afraid of snakes + the sensation of them but I also think they’re very... cute? Not that that’s important lol-- I feel like that’s a nice one, MC having (any pet) is always a fun prompt to read~

MC Has A Pet Snake

Lucifer

He’s pretty quick to tell you that pets aren’t allowed. But he can’t really deny the aesthetic of how you look with it. It’s also not such a troublesome pet as Cerberus is, as much as he loves his own dog.

You’re almost always seen with that snake around you; it sort of reminds him of the boa feathers that Satan has in his demon form. The only time he doesn’t see you with it, obviously, is when you’re at RAD.

He doesn’t exactly try to force you to get rid of it. He doesn’t really see a problem with you having it, if it wasn’t for his brothers pestering him about them being allowed to have a pet. You came here with it, and you were expected to care for it alone.

Aside from all this, he keeps his relative distance with said pet. He’s got his hands full with 6 other brothers, dealing with Diavolo, and a pet of his own. Just please. Take full responsibility of ANYTHING that happens regarding your pet. He’s busy enough.

Mammon

Okay so explain to him why he shouldn’t kill and sell your snake for it’s skin? Give him a good reason, good enough so he actually listens.

It’s probably a good idea to keep your pet with you. Mammon will try to take it from you and make snake skinned boots... or a purse. Or something.

Once he realizes that you have a pet and he doesn’t he’s on Lucifer’s ass about it. How come the human gets to keep a pet and I can’t even get a damn dog!? Biased! Absolutely biased!!!

He doesn’t exactly... take? Your pet. But he’s just as invested in taking care of it (sort of) as you. He wants to prove he can take care of a pet, so he can get his own damn dog! Or maybe a monkey, those are sick. Mm... Nah. Probably a dog.

Leviathan

Snake boi pspsppspspspsps-

He actually loves your pet snake. Sooooo cool! He had another snake before, but now he’s a feral wild thing. Oh, and there’s also Lotan... Lotaaaaaannnn... He has fish though, do you like fish!?

When he finds rats or mice anywhere, his first thought is on your pet snake. He wants to have a good relationship with his henry (and Henry’s “naga”!)

Yes, he sometimes calls your pet snake a Naga. Even if it’s just a Boa Constrictor. A really goofy one, at that. He’s probably the one you want to go to when you need a pet sitter.

Satan

Oh cool, a snake.

WAIT WHY DO YOU GET A PET? THIS IS BULLSHIT? You can keep a SNAKE but he can’t even have a cat? Lucifer is soooo biased?!

He loves your snake though. It’s not noisey, it doesn’t bark at anything, it doesn’t need constant attention (probably). Fitting it around him like it’s his own boa feathers is a bit... strange, for lack of better terms. He doesn’t hate it, but it’s certainly familiar.

He likes your snake a lot too. A long, dumb, noodle boy. Will also be a good person to look after it whilst you’re away. Probably keeping it around his shoulders while he reads.

Asmodeus

Asmo probably keeps his snake-skinned stuff out of sight for you as soon as he notices your snake. It’d be insensitive otherwise, yeah?

While he’s not afraid of your snake, he doesn’t really get too close to it either. Aside from Devilgram photos, he doesn’t want to spend too much time with it. He will admit he looks wonderful with a snake scarf, though. A literal snake as his scarf, don’t worry!

The one time he found snake sheddings, he nearly had a heart attack, though. That looks so gross? Ew. Not that he can complain- it probably is similar to scrubbing dirt off your skin, right?

Don’t ask him to pet sit. He’s probably taking photos with it. But that’s pretty much it. He’s way too popular, and has other things to do! But if you beg nicely, he might just...

Beelzebub

Oh lit. The human food brought a side of grilled snake.

Please don’t let him look after the snake, whatever you fucking do. You’ll never see it again.

When he realizes its like a pet and not food, then he gets it together. He likes pets. They’re cool. He’d rather want a dog, but snakes are alright. He’s sort of indifferent about it, really? He likes wearing it as a scarf, he thinks the personality of your snake is... cute. Still a shame, he can’t eat it.

Because he’s such a good boi, he helps you take care of it- only when you’ve bribed him though. Does your pet snake eat rats? He’s goes to buy rats. He will become a master snake-owner for a few minutes if it means you’re taking him out to lunch afterwards. Just don’t be alarmed when he orders grilled snake.

Belphegor

Oh that’s fucking cool. A snake? Word.

He wants to wear it. He wants to have that snake as his own pet. He put’s it around him a lot and scratches the top of it’s head. He sometimes goes to sleep with it wrapped around him.

You don’t have a pet snake anymore. That’s now Belphie’s pet. He’s a good boi. A good dummy lomg noodle. He’s very excited about having it, even though it isn’t his.

You’ll have to fight him to have it back. Like Leviathan, he’s a good person to look to when caring for the snake. Keeps him warm, full, and happy. That snake is probably his new best friend, honestly...

[philliamwrites]

killing me softly with his song | (Childe / Reader) [chpt.1]

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Childe / Reader

Tags: #fem!reader, #from childhood friends to lovers, #reader is a fatui agent, #slow burn, #unresolved sexual tension, #mature language, #forbidden love

Words: 2k

Summary: "Lybuov zla, polyubish i kozla," sighs your sister as she wipes off the table, but that makes you feel even more miserable. Falling for a goat might save you from an actual heartbreak by Tartaglia's hands.

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Loosely connected chapters about you and Childe finding happiness. Maybe.

Notes: Part 2

Masterlist

***

childe? what a problematic asshole i hate him i- *trips* *thousands of pictures of childe spill from pockets* fuck those aren’t mine i swear i’m just holding them for a friend i- *slips on a pile of pictures* fu ck no they’re not mine i hate him i just- *more pictures fall out as i fall to my knees, desperately trying to pick them up* hang on a sec jUst LISTEN

Chapter 1

     A cold gust of icy wind drives you deeper into the sheets and you swear by the name of Her Majesty Herself once you get up and find Alexei, you’ll smother him with a towel for leaving a window open in the middle of the night.

    Somewhere outside, a rooster crows. Fine, not dead of the night then, but no one cares for technicalities like these when sleep is involved. Especially after a night like this one, when Alexei fucked you into oblivion and back, you need every minute of shuteye you can get before another day of exhausting missions in the Chechnaya Taiga of Snezhnaya claims your last strand of sanity.

    It’s peaceful mornings like these that make it all worthwhile though—the quiet during the early golden hour when people slowly wake up to a brand-new day and get ready to do their chores, their factory work. The sheer number of possibilities stretching out before their hands, and hope rekindled every morning despite the harsh cold waiting at their doorsteps. You love how everything stands still, how even the uncaring universe seems to grant people a sliver of peace, allows them to be soft and vulnerable. To be kind to themselves by indulging in a freshly brewed cup of coffee or tea. Nothing can spoil this for you, nothing and no one—

    An awkward cough sounds from the door. You close your eyes, willing him to disappear by simply ignoring him, but his eyes burn into the back of your head like two smouldering coals and eventually, you turn around to see Alexei standing in the door frame, shifting from left to right. “There’s someone out there who wants to talk to you,” he says.

    Turning around, you try to disappear into your pillow. “Whoever it is, I’m sure they can wait until it isn’t such a damn unholy time.”

    Alexei clears his throat. “It’s uhm … it’s someone from the Fatui.”

    Your eyes snap open. Suddenly the warm, cosy blankets feel like a snake’s tight hold around your body, and you struggle out of its grip, grabbing for the dressing gown you carelessly threw around the back of your chair last night.

    The sun hangs low in the east, painting the city of Kerch that stretches outside of your window a sheen of dusky gold. When the red-brown bricks of the dacha cottages come into view, you think of the gingerbread houses you used to make as a child every year in celebration of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa of the Zapolyarny Palace.

    Cold already seeps into your bones even though the robe is tight around your body. You hiss when your bare feet hit the icy floor but can’t find your slippers. Time to die like a woman.

    You brush past Alexei, who’s scratching his head, still just in his underwear and you think him crazy for walking around half-naked like that even though it’s minus 58F outside and the heating systems inside your barracks only start to work once outside temperatures drop to minus 75F.

    Maybe what they say is true. People from around Noyabrsk in the north of Snezhnaya regularly dip into frosty rivers and you do remember him mentioning ice swimming is his hobby. It was one of the few things you thought attractive about him. Actually, it was the only thing you thought attractive about him.

    Light streams into the floor from the kitchen, flickering once, twice in dangerous foreboding. It’s time to switch the lightbulb. Tomorrow. Tomorrow for sure, because that isn’t important right now. What’s important is Tartaglia sitting at your table, leaning back in a chair, both feet crossed on top of the table, and eating your leftover mayonnaise sandwich you saved up for breakfast.

    His eyes slide lazily toward you, taking in your form—barefoot, shivering even though the fur from your bathrobe is of the finest white wolf fur obtainable on the market.

    Tartaglia finishes your sandwich, smacks his lips and licks mayo off his fingers. He doesn’t even like it, and you know from time to time he can’t handle dairy all that well. He just eats it because he knows how it infuriates you.

    “Alexei, huh,” he says in lieu of hello. “Didn’t know you’re into himbos.”

    Behind you, Alexei makes a sound like a kicked puppy. You glare at him over your shoulder, then jut your chin towards the front door. “Out. Now.”

    He doesn’t wait for you to repeat yourself. Surprisingly fast for a guy this big, he bolts into your room, gets dressed in record speed and leaves your little one-bedroom apartment without so much as a Goodbye or “We’ll hear from each other,” and you prefer it that way. It saves stuff from getting messy.

    Speaking of messy, you really wish Tartaglia would have sent you a note before coming. The smell of icy wind and snowy forests clings to his clothes. He must have come straight from a mission, not unusual in the slightest, yet in most cases he sends a message your way just to make sure he doesn’t run into one of your one-night stands and it doesn’t get ugly.

    Like right now.

    “I thought you had a little more class than that,” he says nonchalantly. His feet keep wobbling from left to right until you make your way over and push them off your table. Not that you actually sit there to take your meals, no. But this is your home, you have to assert dominance.

    “Well, I’m not picky,” you say, taking the empty chair opposite from him. “The nights of Fyrva’snezh are really fucking cold.”

    “I’m sure Fire-Water will do the same trick.” He’s sulking, yet he has no right to it and knowing Tartaglia, that’s why he sulks even more.

    Your relationship can be summarised with one word: complicated. Which is funny, because besides martial arts classes (taught by a teacher that is a real ball of sunshine who could easily snap your spine like a twig) and infiltration tactics courses (led by a grumpy teacher who once woke you all up in the middle of the night to do a spontaneous quiz about infiltration steps and everyone who failed or fell asleep had to run a marathon through the forest in their underwear) you had to take at the Fatui military school of Zapolyarny, they also teach mathematics and molecular physics, and that shit was complicated.

    Growing up in a small seaside village—bless little Morepesok; how much you miss babushka Katya’s refreshing botvinia soup—with only a handful kids your age, gravitating towards Tartaglia was the natural development. He loves ice-fishing, you love eating fish. You gag just smelling solyanka, he wolfs it down like it might be his last meal on earth. Opposites attract each other, as they say, and how true it is for you two—you, the morning person and he, the night owl; his will of iron and your nerves of steel. Your bow, his sword, even though Tartaglia is a masochist who likes to make it hard for himself by trying to switch weapons solely because you’re better at it than him and he is a sore loser.

    His worship of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, your fear of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa.

    “I don’t think you came all the way here just to call me a slut,” you say. He is in no position to do so anyway, because Camilla from the ptychy’moloko shop down the road that leads to the Sarov church didn’t shut up about blowing him for weeks until you sent her a liver of a pig and claimed that was the leftovers from the last girl that thought she could put a leash on the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. Camilla quickly moved on to an inconspicuous merchant who sells matryoshka dolls for a living and all is well that ends well.

    “What do you want?”

    Tartaglia starts tapping a gloved finger against the wooden table, a nervous tick you don’t know he’s aware of.

    “I’m leaving for Liyue first thing tomorrow.” His tone is low when he speaks, his earlier nonchalance replaced by a sense of urgency.

    “Okay.” It isn’t the first time he’s leaving Snezhnaya by order of the Tsaritsa, but every time he does, something inside you leaves with him. “So, you want me to keep an eye out for Teucer and the others?”

    “He’s really unhappy I’m leaving again already.” Tartaglia doesn’t mention the reason he was sent away just a couple of months ago to Inazuma was because he accidentally blew up an artillery factory belonging to a nobleman that secretly shipped orders to Fontain. The fallout from that was easier to handle with him not being anywhere nearby. Tartaglia is like a pair of hot tongues; no one is sure where to put him or how soon he would cool off, but if they just drop him, he might light the world on fire. Kid gloves are put on and a careful perimeter marked out.

    “And what excuse did you make up this time?” You knock your foot into his leg, lingering on his calf just a second too long before withdrawing again. “Another business trip to promote your toys? You can’t hold up this charade forever, you know.”

    “Why, your eyes feast on Snezhnaya’s greatest expatriate toy seller, now extending to the Liyue Branch of our Institute for Toy Research.” Tartaglia’s eyes have taken on a playful glint, and he leans forward as he speaks. “You wouldn’t be so cold to break a little boy’s heart. That’s not you.”

    You want to remind him that you have no problem to put an arrow between a man’s eyes, or rip out his fingernails, one by one, to get the information that you want.

    “You owe me, toy man.”

    “Put it on my tab.”

    Tartaglia looks like there’s something else he wants to say, but as always, he decides to swallow those words even though they must hurt like swallowing needles. You know that feeling, and so you help him sort out his tightly entangled yarn of emotions by figuratively pushing him off the cliff.

    “Don’t forget to bring condoms. I hear the women of Liyue are beautiful.”

    Tartaglia goes a sickly grey colour, like the ashes of a dead fire, but he’s been the leading role of this play too long to fall out of character now. He gets up and stretches like a cat getting comfortable in a spot of sunlight. His jacket rides up, showing a stripe of skin, and you quickly turn your head away before giving into leaning over the table and mark him with your teeth.

    Patting his left pants’ pocket, Tartaglia says, “I’m always prepared.” He carries a grin that is dry, humourless, and for a brief moment, you two lock eyes, trading a look that feels like a dare. You allow yourselves to imagine how he picks you up and carries you to your bed where you two would proceed to fuck without abandon through the whole day and the following night, leaving the bed only to get food until Tartaglia leaves for Liyue and you’d send each other love letters until his return. What an idea. What an utterly stupid, naive, wonderful idea.

    “Well, lucky ladies,” you say, not bothering to hide the jealousy in your voice because jealousy is easier to handle than regret.

    “Lucky indeed,” he agrees and dons his easy-going smile, one that he’s perfected after hours upon hours in front of the mirror until it accomplished what he wanted: to mock people, infuriate them.

    On his way out, he stops to ruffle your hair in an affectionate way, one typical for childhood friends, but the distance between you is like the ocean separating Snezhnaya from Liyue.

    It was on the very first day of your conscription into the military organisation, Number Six of the Ten Laws that the Fatui abide by: Any physical or romantic relationship between Fatui agents is prohibited. As thou would not exchange flesh with thy brother or sister, so thou shalt not with your comrade, for he or she is thy brother or sister in arms.

    And everyone knows Her Majesty the Tsaritsa’s word is law, and though the law is hard, it is the law.

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