#i am routinely described as a 'very sweet person'

[74olala]

Fascinated that this just came up on my dash when I was just talking to my mom about tradwives yesterday. By some metrics my mom could be considered a "trad wife" or at least that's what I thought when I first heard about tradwives.

Mom was a stay-at-home mom from the time my sister was born to the time I went off to college. She homeschooled us, and took care of the house and all that. Dad is a Baptist pastor [also a maintenance worker for a park because the church was super small and independent so he didn't get a pastor salary]

But then I started looking into the tradwife stuff and I realized it was.... a little out there, and not at all remotely the same. And I was trying to explain to Mom yesterday how it was weird and how it differed, and I couldn't fully explain it.

But I think the difference is that even when Mom was stay-at-home mom she wasnt... Idk how to explain it. There is a level of subservience in the tradwife movement that I have never seen from my mother or any of the other women of the church I knew [yes, even the ones who reheally didn't believe in birth control and had the very extreme stairstep amount of children]

And I think it's the expectation of equality.

See, in the tradition I was raised, women are taught to submit to their husbands, but husbands are also given the expectation that they are to treat their wives as they would themselves.

A while back, I was reading Rachel Held Evans A Year of Biblical Womanhood and I remember being struck by her discussing how in the churches she had grown up women had an expectation of "gentleness" that was overemphasized greatly. I was struck by it, because it was completely different in the church traditions I grew up in.

When I heard of the tradwives calling their husbands "Sir" to "honor them" my first reaction was a snort and the thought that if any of the church ladies I know had been told by their husbands to call them sir... well, let's just say there would have been alot of very uncomfortable men.

I never grew up with the expectation that a woman was to be gentle. I grew up with the expectation that a woman was to be strong. And I don't know how to explain fully how that is different. But I do think the reason the tradwife movement comes off as Weird with a capital 'W' to me is because I was raised with that expectation of strength and the equality of partners who bring different 'strengths' to the partnership.

Was it really equality, I don't know? I've never been in the position of any of those women, and I am highly unlikely to ever be in that position. but from the way it looked to me, any couple with tradwife ideas would've been looked at as strange and uncomfortable with the man too mean and the woman too mild.

Found this on pinterest had to put it here

Tradwives need to realize the seriousness of the shit they are getting themselves into.

The society isn't all that kind to women.

[fanaticsnail]

"Good Boy"

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,200+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.

Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams

Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine

A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles. 

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward. 

Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines. 

What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket? 

Because he was a good boy. 

And you always informed him as such.

While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need. 

Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper. 

Well, his exploits at least. 

Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him. 

“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed. 

That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most. 

And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.” 

He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips. 

You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved. 

And you said it. 

You finally said it today. 

His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind. 

Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand. 

“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you. 

“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”

“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find. 

“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”

“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”

He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own. 

“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”

After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words. 

“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either. 

With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence. 

“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound. 

You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return. 

“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?” 

A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet. 

Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for. 

Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step. 

At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him. 

A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude. 

“Good boy.”

From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words. 

“Good boy.”

They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips. 

Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips. 

He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’

Until the day you didn't. 

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture. 

Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles. 

The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor. 

This was the reason for his intense rage.

After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.  

“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart. 

Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment. 

A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime. 

“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe. 

“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted. 

“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, “I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”

“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”

After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles. 

“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”

“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”

“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”

“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”

“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sigh in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”

Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into. 

“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye. 

“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”

You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface. 

The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention. 

He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words. 

Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders. 

“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office. 

“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.” 

The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone. 

Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor. 

Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you. 

“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”

“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess. 

He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming. 

“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”

Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat. 

“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”

Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.

“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more. 

“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence. 

“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment. 

He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze. 

Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading. 

He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves. 

Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”

And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile. 

“Good boy.”

[dinogoofymutated]

Okay so like,,,,I usually never make requests (I’m a lurker fr fr) but your writing Is god tier, so I gotta ask:

Could you do a fic for Hank/Beast? He’s my personal fave but I never see any content for him ever, like the fic scene for this man is a ghost town. he’s underrated as hell. My man is ripped, highly intelligent and respectful of the arts! Yet he doesn’t get any attention.

I would love to see some general headcanons (SFW & NSFW) if you’re up to it. no problem if you don’t write for him or something, I just thought i would ask.

Thanks!

SFW!Beast/GN!Reader

To be honest, I actually wasn't really sure about writing for Hank at first because I've never really had a connection to the character, but he grew on me!! Plus, I'm here to serve lolol we've been starved of fics as a Fandom for basically forever and it would be a disservice not to fill the Hank void out there! Hope it's okay that I only wrote Sfw headcannons, I have a separate req for NSFW for him so I decided to split it into two to save my sanity lol. Finals are gonna be hell for me.

-ps- Should I be writing right now? no. Am I doing it anyway? Yurp. Also, I'm basing his history off of the fandom wiki, so I'm sorry if anything is off.

Tws: none that I can think of atm. As always, reader written while picturing fem but no pronouns mentioned.

Hank, despite what some would think, was most definitely a heartthrob, particularly in his college days!! I mean, a man who's confident, smart, respectful, and also an athlete? Who wouldn't swoon? He was 110% the guy that everyone wanted to take home to their parents.

And He's such a sweet, attentive lover too!! Acts of service almost definitely is a love language for him. He cooks for you, fixes the broken things that you didn't even realize were broken, even organizes your notes before a difficult exam.

He loves to surprise you with flowers, even if it isn't any special occasion, and if you ask, he'll help you preserve them as well!

He loves to kiss your forehead, temples, and hands. On top of that, he's very touchy. The two of you were most definitely seen as the parents of any friend group.

Things changed a little after he took the serum that mutated him further. His confidence had taken a blow, and he just didn't quite know how to approach you anymore.

It took a hot minute to reassure him that you didn't really care if he was blue, or furry, or beastly, he was still Hank Mccoy, wasn't he? He was the man you were in love with, and you certainly weren't going to stop now. Besides, you still thought he was handsome. With the kinds of books he's seen you read, you're a bit surprised that he didn't think you would find him attractive.

Things gradually got back to normal, but for a while, he didn't kiss you as often as he used to. Well, he didn't kiss you period. Even though he knew the incredible extent to which you loved him, the shape of his mouth had changed. Hell, he had fangs that he would rather die than mark you with.

You practically had to tie him down into a contract to get him to kiss you again. He was always one to experiment, why not treat this the same? If you kiss, and it goes well, you do it again. If it goes well a second time and a third, you have a pretty reliable test. Validity shouldn't matter when he knew that you loved him to bits already.

He felt like he was falling in love with you all over again, and yet he still hesitated. It wasn't until you had grabbed him by the collar to drag him into a kiss that he actually relaxed, and what do you know, it was a pretty reliable test after all. A predictive one too, with how often you continued to kiss him afterwards.

Domestic was the best way to describe your relationship with Hank.

    You yawned as you made your way down to the lab, still in your pajamas and slippers. Just a few hours previously, after a shower and self-care routine, you had settled into bed with an eyebrow-raising book as you waited for your husband to come to bed. This was a normal routine for the two of you, you immersing yourself into a book to stay awake until Hank entered, kissed your temple sweetly, and began his own nightly routine. It was a set of events you were used to. 

    Today, however, you felt like you had done a lot more reading than usual. When you finally pulled yourself out of your book and checked the time, the clock by your bed read 11 pm. A rather late time for Hank to be out, but you already knew where he would be. The lower levels of the mansion were extra cold at night, and you find yourself rubbing some warmth into your arms as you approach the lab. 

    The doors open with a swish, the light of the lab having all been darkened exempt for the lamp on Hank’s desk. He’s so immersed in what he’s doing that he doesn’t even realize when you come in. You walk up behind his chair, running your hands through his hair softly when you reach him.

    Hank isn’t surprised, sighing at the pleasant sensation as he tips his head back to encourage you. You giggle a little, leaning down to press a kiss to his head as you begin to massage his scalp.

    “It’s late.” You say gently. Hank hums in response, eyes closed as he appreciates your touch. 

    “I’m sorry, my love. Seems I was a little entranced.” He says. You huff at him playfully.

    “You say entranced, I say you’re overworking yourself. You’ve been working on this project all week. Don’t let it cut into your rest time.” Your scolding always sounded too nice, but he knows you mean it. Hank sighs again, this time sounding a little more tired, but he doesn't argue. He rolls around to face you, pulling you into a tired hug from his chair. 

     “Perhaps it is time I go to bed. What time is it, my dear?” 

    “Eleven.” Hank lets out a quiet chuckle at your quick reply, finally standing up. He doesn’t let go of you however, choosing to rest his head on your shoulder as he sways the two of you back and forth.

    “You’re most certainly right, it is late. Much too late for a man to leave his lovely spouse waiting. Oh, whatever shall I do to make it up to you?.” His words come out as a purr, and you let out a curt laugh at him. You pull away a little, taking his large hands in your own as you lead him to the door. He smiles widely when you stop for a moment, remembering his glasses and placing them on his face before starting to drag him to bed. 

    “I’ll let you decide that, Love. As long as you make it to bed, that’s apology enough for me.”

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"dance recital" - hotch x mom!reader!

your family attends your daughter's dance recital

1480 words, domestic family fluff

cw: none? unless u hate kids then don't read this xD

a/n: i am looking at requests and actually have a couple of them started! inspiration just struck and i needed dance dad hotch xD plz keep sending requests i love getting them

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

Lizzy had been practicing for weeks, at home, in the car on the way to school, even in the waiting room at the dentist’s office. If there was a free moment, she was up on her toes, practicing her dance routine.

When she turned four, she was so excited to sign up for dance class, and now her very first recital is later today. She takes it very seriously, and you attribute that entirely to her hardworking father. 

You’re standing in the kitchen, packing the picnic lunch you’ll be sharing as a family after her recital in the park. PB&J, no crusts, for Jack. Even though he’s nearly ten and he should be eating his crusts, you can’t help but to baby him a little. He’s been such a good big brother to Lizzy. You were anxious about that when you were pregnant with her, since Jack was so used to being the only kid. And there would always be the looming presence of Haley and the family he was a part of before you came along.

But Lizzy became the center of Jack’s world when she was born. He’s so doting and always playing with her, from when she was an infant to now. 

Nutella and peanut butter sandwich for Lizzy, because she has a sweet tooth just like her mother. Turkey and cheese for you and Aaron. “D’you want mayo, honey?” You call out to wherever Aaron is in the house. He was in the living room just a few minutes ago, but with your two crazy kiddos, he could have ended up anywhere. 

“Just the mayo, no honey,” Aaron jokes and nearly makes you jump as he enters the kitchen, padding silently behind you despite being the largest person in the house. Must be that fancy tactical FBI stealth training. 

He stops at the counter, leaning against it and facing you. Your eyes meet his and his voice is low when he speaks to you. “You need to make a big deal out of this,” he prefaces, nodding to the doorway. You don’t fully know what he’s talking about, but you understand enough, so you set your butter knife down and turn around to face the doorway. Aaron makes a drumroll on his thigh. “Come on in, kids!” 

Jack enters first, in a bright orange t-shirt that is definitely a size too big. Written in blue, puffy fabric paint, no doubt by Jack himself, are the words PROUD BIG BRO. Jack’s also holding Lizzy’s hand, escorting her into the kitchen. She’s in her violet tutu and has her hair up in two haphazardly pulled-back pigtails that could only be described as the work of her father. She’s walking on her tiptoes, with her free hand arched up in a semicircle shape, mimicking all the ballerinas in her books. 

You’re beaming, and take the sight in silently for a moment before bursting into uproarious (for one woman) applause. “You guys look so great!” You exclaim, grinning at the kids, and then back at your husband. He’s got this sly look on his face and you want to smooch it off. “When did you make this shirt?” You ask Jack, stepping forward and grabbing his face with both of your hands. You kiss his forehead and ruffle his hair.

“Dad and I did it while you were at the store last night,” Jack explains. 

“I love it, baby,” you tell Jack, and he beams. You stroke the apples of his cheeks with your thumbs before releasing him. 

Lizzy lets go of her brother’s hand and leaps for you. “My big girl is all dolled up for her first recital,” You lift her up, hugging her close. “Did Daddy do your hair for you?” you ask.

“Yes! He sang our song and I didn’t cry!” she says. You always sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star to Lizzy while you brush her hair because she’s very tender-headed. It makes your heart soar to learn that Aaron did it, too. 

“I’m so proud of you!” You kiss Lizzy’s face all over until she squeals and wriggles to get away. “Why don’t you guys go play in the living room for a little bit, and we’ll get going soon,” you suggest. Jack races Lizzy into the living room, leaving you and Aaron in the kitchen alone. 

“You did her hair,” you say as you smirk up at Aaron. 

“Yeah, I know. It's not as good as when you do it,” he settles back against the counter and you roll your eyes. He’s holding his palms out, wiggling his digits. “I’ve got sausage fingers, and she cries if you pull the twist-tie too hard. It’s heartbreaking.” 

“And you made a shirt with Jack,” you say, ignoring his self-deprecation. Your smirk has turned into a full-force, Category Five Grin. 

Aaron realizes what you’re doing as you inch a little closer. He takes your wrist delicately, tugging you toward him, and you kiss his lips three times in succession, each a quick thank-you for all he’s done. “You’re the one driving her to classes twice a week,” Aaron deflects. “And Jack to school, and to soccer practice, and doing all the shopping and-“

“Aaron,” you roll your eyes in warning. You hate when he butters you up like this. You’re just doing your job, just like he is when he’s away on cases. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” he holds his hands up in defense, and you snatch them like they’re precious jewels. You kiss him again, this one longer and lingering. 

You finish packing your family’s lunch into the cooler. Lizzy’s recital is at a small amphitheater in the park, and after you drop her off with her teacher backstage, you and your boys find a good spot on the green to set up your picnic blanket. 

Aaron makes this small grunt when he squats to sit down on the ground and you hold back a snicker. Jack does not read the room and calls him an old man. 

You’re giggling as you sit down, Aaron tugging you to sit between his legs. You affectionately run your hand through Jack’s hair a few times before the first class comes up onto the stage. 

You watch the first class, and the second, clapping politely. Then, the four-and-five-year-olds are announced, and you are on your feet immediately. You hear a bit of rustling and Jack and Aaron are standing up, too. You grin when you see Lizzy with the other little kids, holding the hands of the boy in front of her and the girl behind her as they all walk in a line. 

Their dance is simplistic and whimsical and joyful, set to a light, poppy tune that makes you think of spring. You’re grinning and watching Lizzy float across the stage. She’s not the most graceful, but she hits every move at the right time.

You hear rustling behind you and turn over your shoulder to see Aaron and Jack subtly performing the dance with the class. They’re not moving nearly as dedicatedly as the group on stage, but they’re helping Lizzy from the audience. It’s so sweet you want to cry. 

When Lizzy’s group is finished, the three of you on the lawn explode in applause. Aaron wolf-whistles behind you and Jack is cheering, “that’s my sister!” 

After the other classes go, you’re allowed to head back and pick up Lizzy. She’s giggling with the other kids in her class, but she freezes and grins like it’s Christmas morning when she sees you. 

“Mommy!” she squeals, and runs to you. You lift her up off the ground in a hug and spin her around, before passing her off to Aaron. He does the same thing. “Dizzy! Dizzy!” She’s squealing, and Aaron finally sets her down. 

“Dizzy Lizzy, huh?” Aaron teases, running his thumb and his forefinger down one of her pigtails. “You did so good, sweet girl!” He was never the best at baby-talking to Lizzy, but now that she’s a little girl, he speaks to her so excitedly and she always beams when she learns her father is proud of her. 

“You got the leap at the right part!” Jack exclaims proudly, and you watch as Lizzy hugs her big brother. 

You point out the picnic blanket with the cooler and tell Jack to take Lizzy ahead to it. Jack loves being responsible, so he takes Lizzy by the hand and leads her towards your family’s setup. 

Hanging back with Aaron, you look up at him and brush his dark hair off his forehead. “You learned her dance?” you ask with a small smirk on your face. 

Aaron’s dark eyes gaze into yours and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close to him. “She was doing it every chance she got,” he shrugs, like it’s totally no big deal. “You’re telling me you don’t have it memorized?”  

[skyeslittlecorner]

Asmo's Selfie Reflections

First I'll have a little cry about the fact that there are no comics in the new cards. We've been robbed. Best part of the cards, along with the stories, is gone…

At least the prologue, with the presence of the kings and their right hands, was simply wonderful (Bael and his instant killing spree when he saw Beel <33)

I waited so long for Asmo that when he showed up it seemed unreal. He got everything. Most of my favorite physical features - checked. Glimmers of depth in behavior - checked. Being a dark and shady bitch - checked.

Plus, it's my personal thing, but seeing that nearly all my headcanons and assumptions for him matched reality made me squeal like a little girl.

Finally.

It doesn't surprise me at all that one of the the most powerful weapons of Hell is not so much physical, but mental force. Feelings that neither devils nor angels can resist. Love and desire have long been portrayed as some of the most powerful things, I have come across Greek motifs quite often, where the most powerful yet hidden gods were Eros or Aphrodite. As long as the spirit wants to fight, the body will follow, but without the spirit, what is left?

Especially since his order turns off your brain and tells you to follow, no matter how absurd it may be.

Asmo and his mind-fucks can help his own as well as his enemies. Especially since it seems that devils are quite traumatized after meeting him, and if they don't, they are locked up in Abbadon.

Although, it seems that he can control his abilities perfectly. He was able to blend in with the crowd and no one knew who he was.

Ahem I just have to stare at him every five seconds. My equivalent of breathing. And speaking of breathing…

*Grabs bottle of sanitizer and a mask* My dear, I know your (not)bathing routine and I still have pandemic supplies with me.

I love that the kings cover the entire spectrum of their specialties, especially the extremes. Satan is the avatar of anger, but he can keep his cool like no other when he needs to. Mammon is the avatar of greed, yet he is the most generous of demons. You get the idea. Same here, Asmo is both the lust and the love, the ultimate playboy and a loving husband.

And not only that, but complete lack of emotions and cold calculation too.

Oh yes, one of your sons is pretty famous, Vox Akuma as i heard. I really confused them when I saw Asmo for the first time-

Knowing how dark the rest of this is, I'm afraid of what you mean.

What follows is pure madness, and not really in a positive sense. Real madness and exhaustion. I had high hopes that he would take away any senses and twist in every direction, but he does it in such a beautiful way. And what's better, he loses himself too.

I only remember Satan, who at the end of Ch1 gave in to his anger so much that he almost killed Sitri and Ppyong. Asmo seems similar to me, completely lost in lust - only for a long time, without Mammon to calm him down, and without any scruples or limiting his power. If that's the case, then the devils of Abbadon must be damn strong. Crazy, but strong.

It's hard for me to describe anything after that, because it's hard for me to put six days into just a few words??? Literally. I have no idea how to describe it. I've read it a good few (a dozen) times and my brain turns off and goes into fangirl mode instead.

He seems as sweet as he is cold… which intrigues me even more, because so far he gives me the impression of a third party. He is not with the angels, and he is with the rest of the demons because it pays off for him.

At least one thing doesn't change.

Everyone loves to piss off Satan <3

I know that was a very polite analysis. That's not how I planned it, but just, just want to shove my phone into each of your hands and tell you to read it yourself because it's indescribable 😭

I already love this guy, and if he wants to sacrifice me in some twisted way, I'll even pour oil on myself to make the flames smell nice. Am I crazy? Yes. Am I ashamed? Absolutely not. Abbadon, here I come.

[cielelyse]

Favourite 5 Saezuru Scenes

I recently reread Saezuru for the umpteenth time and just needed to gush about it like a crazed person who constantly hallucinates about Yashiro being happy and soOooOOooo.................

1. Why now? (Chapter 25)

These 3 panels kill me always... although it's the entire chapter 25 actually, and not just these panels. This broke me when I first read it nearly a decade ago, and it breaks me every time I reread it. I recently just listened to the drama CD for the first time and wanted to hear how this scene played out (a.k.a. wanted to hear Yashiro moan wkegh;ghwle) and I did not expect to start bawling and sobbing uncontrollably when his flashback appeared. WITH THE MUSIC AND EVERYTHING. THEY DID NOT SPARE ME. FUCK. What was supposed to be a tender and gentle and loving and intimate scene between them turned into Yashiro facing the effects of his childhood trauma -- that will never cease to hurt me. Doumeki saying "kashira, kashira, kirei" right before that broke me in a way reading that scene in English couldn't. I WILL NEVER GET OVER THIS and if I keep writing about it I'm gonna cry again so:

2. Car ride back from Kageyama's clinic (Chapter 4)

This is mostly for nostalgic reasons, really. I first read Saezuru in 2013, and I wasn't used to Yashiro at first. I didn't know what to make of him.

So what happened was that I read "Don't Stay Gold" first and was like... there's a manga about this mildly threatening and unreadable yakuza dude who's Kage's friend…? Who played cupid for him in a weird way? HMMMMM dubious, dubious. Would I even like him? It took me a while, but I finally gave Saezuru a shot anyway, and I remember feeling uncertain about Yashiro up until those panels. I remember it so starkly, because this was the instant I fell in love with him. I think it was because this was the first time I understood the depth of his loneliness (since I hadn't read his high school oneshot yet at this point).

There's just something about how Yoneda Kou-sensei draws these kinds of pages that just resonates with me so well. I CAN'T EVEN DESCRIBE IT. It just connects with me the way Yashiro connects with me, and that was pretty much it for me. Obsession sealed. Life signed away. For the next 10 years I would follow the story closely and routinely check every few months for updates. Yashiro became one of my only 3 comfort characters, and rereading Saezuru always gives me a catharsis and sense of peace that I didn't know how to find elsewhere.

3. "To go on living this strained existence... no longer holds any meaning to me." (Chapter 34)

This scene is one that I come back to every time I'm down. AM I A MASOCHIST? I really like the June translation too: "To go on living this strained existence no longer holds any meaning to me." I think the way the panels divided up those thoughts were brilliant!

This especially hurt me because for the entire manga up to this point, Yashiro has stated that he completely accepts himself and he's happy with who he is. It wasn't until his realization during the sex scene with Doumeki and how much he's said/done hurtful things to Doumeki afterwards -- who he considers pure and sweet and good -- that he thinks this.

4. "Falling in love feels like this" (Chapter 33)

The first time I read this, I had to set my PC down, go out to my apartment balcony, and just silently stare out into the night and resist the urge to smoke (that was half a joke) (I did feel a pang in my chest though) (and I did have to fight very hard not to smoke lwkehg;hge). I love the dialogue right after these panels too, when Yashiro said, "Your sister was lucky that you were there." That, along with Doumeki's reaction, hurt.

This was such an intimate scene between them. Yashiro was so vulnerable. So was Doumeki. I hadn't realized this until I reread Saezuru this year, but these two have always had such intimate scenes right from the start. It was a slow burn, yes, but they had always been instantly drawn to each other: Doumeki thinking Yashiro was beautiful and captivating, and Yashiro doing something he doesn't normally do with his subordinates the first time he met Doumeki. And it didn't clue in for me back in 2013, but their conversations with each other were much more intimate than the conversations they'd have with anyone else, right from chapter 1. I find that so precious.

5. Dream (Chapter 40)

I couldn't not include a scene from post-timeskip, BECAUSE I LOVE POST-TIMESKIP. I love Darkmeki and I love Yashiro and I love that the theme of post-timeskip centers around "change". Wish I could include that conversation Yashiro had with Tsunakawa about it, because I thought that drive-home was brilliant. I really appreciate that Yoneda Kou didn't have Yashiro and Doumeki get together right away after they have sex, and I really appreciate that the question was raised of: Do people change? Can people change on their own, or would you have to force them? Or are we always the same at our core? And I think the answer is of course a mixture of all of it, and that it's very much circumstantial and subjective, but I love how we're able to see the shifts in both Yashiro and Doumeki. How both men aren't quite the same people we knew pre-timeskip. Ten years ago I didn't think I would meet a version of Yashiro that wouldn't talk about sex 24/7, but here we are.

(Not to say that they're completely different now. They're still our Yashiro and Doumeki of course; I just wanted to gush about how well Yoneda Kou were able to flesh out her characters in such a complex, multidimensional way.)

ANYWAYS, I went on a rant without even mentioning these panels of Yashiro's dream. I love everything about it: Doumeki's face not showing, Yashiro running away and turning back to see Doumeki not there anymore, and that last panel of him standing in the middle of nowhere, lost and empty and lonely -- all of that was so incredibly told in pages of no words. UGH YONEDA KOU IS A GENIUS. It reminds me of that page of Yashiro looking at a mother and child in the rain; it's one of my favourite scenes too.

Honourary Mention (Chapter 4):

I should end with a more light-hearted one. THIS WAS CUTEEEE. I remember reading this for the first time and thinking Yashiro was just salty that his roleplay got ruined. But upon second reread (and maybe I'm delusional here), I thought he might've been happy to hear Doumeki say that.

We know Yashiro gets angry and irritated whenever he's happy to hear something sweet from Doumeki (like that extra when they ate together LOL), and that he had the same reaction of kicking the chair when Doumeki said he can't touch Yashiro's hair anymore. Which was cute to say. So I thought Yashiro might've lashed out in annoyance because he was glad that Doumeki doesn't mind. (I tried putting myself in Yashiro's shoes so many times trying to imagine how I would feel if Doumeki had said this............. and somehow came up with "happy" xD)

...........or maybe this was obvious to everyone and I've just been clueless. AAAAAAAA THIS IS WHY I LOVE ABOUT SAEZURU SO MUCH. It never spoon-feeds you information and lets its readers interpret :")

[gluion]

with every storm, i have you. ➵ jacob bae

non-idol!jacob bae x reader

no matter what you may bring, jacob will choose to stay.

general genre/warnings ➵ angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader, lowercase intended (and unedited because i wrote this on tumblr directly), established relationship, very reader-centric because they have a lot baggage, jacob is the most soft and understanding boyfriend ever, kissing, cuddling, little dialogue

word count ➵ 1.5k words

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet@kflixnet@blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl@jenoscafe@sweet-unicorn-world@mosviqu @vernyangel

playlist ➵ a burning hill by mitski // everythingoes by rm // lay your head on me by crush // love. by wave to earth

a/n ➵ wrote this on a whim. i always think of the most gutwrenching scenarios with jacob. but maybe that's because i find a safe place in him. also it's been raining really hard here, so everyone stay safe, dry, and warm! i hope you enjoy my first drabble.

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

you're the type of person who loves when the sky pours. the rain brings everything you cherish; the pattering of droplets against the window; the glow of your vanilla-scented candle that rests on your table; the opportunity for jacob to bring you into his embrace—hold you close until the sun decides to shine.

so whenever the clouds look like they're going to bring showers, you allow yourself to relish in the possibility of going through the routine—light up the candle, leave the lamp by your bedside table on as the overhead lights are off, and get in bed with the guy who does nothing but keeps you close. and as you read the works of poets that describe the joys of love, you know they can only hope to experience what you have now.

but tonight is not like any other—the sky cries not only for itself but for you as well.

you sit in front of him with downcast eyes. on the bed you two share cuddles, laughter, and comfortable silences, you and jacob sit across from each other with a distance unlike no other—almost as if you two were strangers.

when your eyes look up towards him, you notice a frown etched onto his face. you know why he's disappointed in you, and you wish you could be a better person—a good partner that makes it easy for him to love you.

and you want to say you're sorry, that what he first knew you as is nothing but a coverup for all that's wrong—all that's terrible in the world is stored in you.

a shaky breath leaves your mouth. "i'm sorry," your shoulders sag down further.

his eyebrows furrow together even further. "w–what are you saying? there's nothing to be sorry for."

you shake your head at his words. there is so much you need to apologize for. is he playing blind to the mess to protect your feelings?

"i keep shutting you out, spitting out lies right in front of your face," your eyes reach up to the ceiling as you take a moment to breathe—an attempt to keep your tears at bay. breathe in, breathe out. "proving to you that i am nothing like how you first knew me."

and you know you are nothing like who he fell first in love with. he has every right to walk out the door, to leave you to crumble in the space you two used to share. but without his comfort, you know the voices would get louder—that all your tendencies will come back stronger than ever. and yet, you would never beg him to stay because you don't want to trouble him anymore—you hate that you've become a burden to him in the first place.

once you let your eyes trail back down to the boy who sits across from you, you notice that the frown has left his face. his eyes have turned glossy, and you know that you teeter on the edge of a vulnerable dam—that the tears can fall any moment as the storm continues on. you hate crying but this moment makes it seem impossible to hold anything back.

the patter against your window fills the silence. you almost take it as a sign to continue your apologies, to let him know that he can open the door and walk out of the intimate space you two have spent building. because you are nothing but a fraud—a liar to a boy who never deserves to be lied to.

but he beats you to it, almost like he knows the exact thoughts that run through your head. "you–" he closes his eyes for a moment. "don't ever think that."

"but all i've done is trouble you." his eyes finally open to meet yours that hold nothing but sorrow, regret, and every pain that you have kept to yourself. "i'm not good for you, don't you understand? i'm terrible for you."

"no," he cuts you off. the frown has made its way back to his face. "why would you ever think that?"

you let out a sigh before saying, "because i am bad for you. i shut you out unexpectedly and i refuse to tell you why, i never want to talk about what bothers me, and i'm never honest with you." your eyes trail down to the space between you two. "and i would understand if you wanted to leave me."

the sight of the bedsheets that wrap around you and him every night pulls at every piece of your heart—these sheets will not do their designated job once jacob leaves you alone to rot.

your hands grip the cloth. the dam is so close to breaking, and you are doing everything to cover the tracks so that the water may never seep through the cracks. but the sight of his hand reaching out and resting on yours proves that you did a terrible job patching up the splits.

you look up to him, the tears now streaming down your face. the sight of the man who does nothing but show you kindness and love makes you cry even more. you don't want to say goodbye to him, but you have to.

"why would you ever think i'd leave you?" he finally asks. and somehow, his simple words make you wail. his hand that once held yours now reaches out to your cheeks, wiping away the tears that continue to spill out. "i am never leaving you, okay?"

as soon as a soft smile rests on his lips, you cannot help but wonder how someone like him came into your life—why would he still choose to stay with you?

but you can't voice out your thoughts for your sobs are uncontrollable at this point. "i'm sorry i let you go this long thinking that. i should've been a more confrontational boyfriend. i wanted to give you space because i thought you needed it." you want to tell him that he's wrong, that you are the only person at fault—not him, ever.

his hand continues to rest on your face as he scoots closer to you. "but i want you to know i'm willing to carry some of your burdens—i want to carry some just for you," he says with the same soft smile that he flashes you every time you snuggle up to his chest. "because i love you."

and his words continue to make you sob. he is everything wonderful, and you can't believe that you are lucky enough to know him in this lifetime.

"come here," his hand leaves your cheek so that he can open his arms to you. you let your face snuggle into his chest, letting the tears stain his shirt.

it smells of the laundry detergent he introduced to you at your request—the first thing he brought to your shared home. this scent is something you will forever associate with him.

while one hand rests on your back, the other caresses your head. he holds you close despite the flaws that have slowly revealed over the time he moved in. how long will he stay?

and before you can spiral further, you hear him hum a tune—one that is unfamiliar. jacob likes to hum melodies whenever and wherever, whether it may be of artists he seems to play in your shared space or his own. his murmurs of songs always beat the voices of your anxieties.

and before you know it, he drags you down with him. you yelp out at the sudden action and he can't help but chuckle, clearly hearing you despite how muffled it may sound. you let your face leave his shirt so that you can look at the boy who still has the same soft smile on his face.

he moves his hand so that it can wipe the tearstains away. "i'll always be here, you know?" and you finally allow yourself to smile at him. at the sight of you finally smiling, he cannot help but coo, "see, i got you smiling."

the smile leaves your face. you roll your eyes before looking away from him. "you ruined it." he lets out a laugh as he pulls you even closer, snuggling his face to the side of your face.

"i'm sorry!" he says before letting his lips meet your cheek, allowing them to stay for as long as he wants to.

you two now lay on the bed with his arms still wrapped around you—the same one that continues to shelter you both from every weather and every season.

and before you can croak out anything, he beats you to it with words that pull at your heartstrings. "i will always be here to listen to you, okay?" he says as soon as his lips leave your cheek. you turn your head to face your one and only. "i know it will take time for you to grow comfortable with sharing your burdens with me, but i'll be there every step of the way."

his comforting smile is almost enough to rid you of all your burdens. you can't help but think you are lucky to have jacob with every storm that comes.

if you enjoyed this, please reblog and leave some feedback!

[cyclogenesis]

feed my curiosity ✅🧮🌅

✅ list one or two favorite lines you’ve written and explain why they’re your favorite

From Body Count:

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Wade tells him. “I’ll figure out a way. I’ll freeze your ass in carbonite like Han Solo. I’ll taxidermy you naked and hang decorations on your dick every Christmas. And then I’ll leave you in your room in the three bedroom apartment we’re all getting together, where you’ll be living with me and Blind Al and Dogpool whether you’re alive or not. So shut the hell up or get ready to have your jingle balls decked. I realize now that I’m also very hangry and that’s contributing to the problem. Come help me make dinner, the cheese grater hates me and I think you’ve lost your taste for my sweet delicious blood by now.” He turns abruptly and heads for the kitchen.

I'm counting this as one line because I'm the king of this Tumblr account and I do what I want. I read every story out loud as a part of editing and this monologue is extremely fun to read aloud, with the midpoint line So shut the hell up or get ready to have your jingle balls decked breaking it up like a solid landing after a tumbling pass in a gymnastics floor routine. I also think it's very funny. (I also personally have trouble with cheese graters.)

🧮 what are you working on? describe it in 20 words or less

Devastatingly sincere Hugh/Ryan fic that takes Ryan Reynolds seriously as a person with feelings. You hate to see it.

🌅 do you typically know the ending to something before you start writing it?

For the most part I tend to structure stories pretty similarly - jokes, jokes, sexual tension, jokes, resolution of conflict, sex, happy little wrap-up scene - so although I would say I rarely know the ending of a story, I basically know the shape of it. It's usually the middle part where I'm like "fuck, what now" until I think of more jokes. I am currently at the "fuck, what now" portion of every WIP I currently have going except for the idfic where the "what now" is generally just Origins Wade getting tortured some more. Which is fun. :)

[gardenerian]

tag game wednesday saturday ✨ in the interest of getting over myself and bursting back onto the dash with unearned confidence, here i am to tag game it up 💓 thank you for continuing to keep me in mind pals @fredheads @skylerwinchester @darlingian @palepinkgoat @gallawitchxx @crossmydna @deedala

name: mel

age: iykyk

location: the biggest of apples

do you own a robe? describe it: i do! but i always forget that i do. it's hanging on the back of my bedroom door right now. it's one of those fluffy bathrobes à la HOS. what i really want is a dramatic silk one. i want to heave sighs and throw myself on the sofa while wearing it.

do you have a favorite mug? describe it: it is shaped like a kitty 🥰

do you have a favorite blanket? describe it: i am snuggling it right now, it was made by one of my very besties 🐱 hand knit! blue and green! so soft!

coffee or tea? i have a daily tea routine, it is a rotation of three different teas. yes, this is weird.

fuzzy socks or wool socks? fuzzies!

gloves or mittens? gloves 🧤

fireplace or campfire? fire!place! one of my all time favorite nap spots is by the fireplace at my parents house. bonus points if there is a christmas tree and/or a cat involved.

sun or moon? i am a lizard person ☀️

chocolate candy or sugar candy? um. UMMM. um? as julia says, many variables at play here. i guess i tend to lean chocolate?

sweet pastry or savory pastry? both. everything should be a pastry, actually.

peppermint or pumpkin spice? peppermint!!! i am thriving this time of year!!!

go to bed early or wake up early? neither! my circadian rhythm hates capitalism!!!!!

cold cereal in milk or hot oatmeal? oatmeal is like my family

potatoes or bread? i won't choose you can't make me

gallagher or milkovich? gallagher (derogatory)

i feel like a baby deer on the dash rn askdfjh so no tags from me this time, but give a go if you like! ily!

[hevexns-realm]

Came to talk about Iris from your previous ask and how she is lowkey relatable (father issues part) and been wondering about the lore with your versions of Nazo and Seekladoom (no really where do I start? I’m only more familiar with Nazo)-—

Sees your reblog with superscourge.

Oh ahaha, well it was flattering you thought it was me for a second, but that was not me unfortunately. If they manage to top Glaze’s and Frontier’s AUs though I will be in awe and very scared….

I think it’s safe to say we Scourge Fans tend to really hurt the poor hedgehog when we can I suppose. 😅

On the other hand, hope with whatever we’re going through that we’ll both heal from it. 

-squeals- I AM SO HAPPY YOU ASKED!! 🖤💙🩵

Okay, I have so much on these two in general, I’m going to try and shorten it to keep things from getting out of hand! Because I’ll be here until 9:00PM the next day if I do- (/hj)

Also, I appreciate you being able to relate to Iris. I try to make my characters at least a little relatable, as we’re all human at the base, no matter what we physically look like. We all share similar feelings, emotions, personalities, and blood colors. Why should we judge on one’s physical appearance when we don’t know their lives? That’s at least how I try to think, even if my intrusive thoughts make it difficult sometimes, I always try my best to make sure they don’t affect my morals and hurt others.

So here’s their physical look to describe them as of now.

Nazo is 21 in this AU. Considerably studious amongst everyone else in the group. (with the exception of mephiles and iblis, because they’ve been around much longer than him in this AU.) His fur and quills are slightly darker in color than how he’s seen in Nazo unleashed, and are arguably more soft and fluffy due to his care routine.

Nazo has this mixed style of Old money, Dark academia, and whimsigoth all in one. Lots of simple yet elegant pieces with lots of accessories. He tends to wear a lot of crystal jewelry when he can, and tends to lean towards gold jewelry rather than silver. As it makes the contrast all the more appealing. That doesn’t mean he does experiment with different styles and designs, as he doesn’t care much about societal standards all that much. He wears what he feels comfortable in, and doesn’t mind the stares.

Despite him being a literal being of negative energy, and still being regarded as a villain by most, he’s considered more empathetic out of him and seelka. We also see him have more morals than most of the other villains you see throughout the story, and that’s due to his ability to sense negative energy in general. (Also through Sonic multiverse mayhem, where Nazo shows genuine concern over seelka wanting to burn down an orphanage, so we know he’s got some sort of morals.) as negative chaos energy Isn’t the only thing he feels, it’s negative energy in general, which includes negative emotions.

This negative energy goes into creating his perfect form, which is still obtainable with or without the chaos emeralds now, he just uses them as a power boost.

He loves classic/dark academia literature and history of humans, the scent of rain and earth when a storm is about to hit, and also likes melancholy type of weather. He loves tea, particularly the more sweeter ones, as he does have a small sweet tooth, and prefers to either stay inside or go somewhere quiet. He prefers solleanna’s cathedral libraries, the ones that are open until the late evenings as he drowns out the world in the great minds of the past. The histories of the world as he sees them form in his head. He also loves classical music, as there’s usually no lyrics to them. If there are, they have no cuss words or slang, innapropriate themes of drugs, gangs, SA, etc. It feels timeless to him, and it helps him relax whenever he is angry, or when he’s in the artistry room in their home, either designing something that came from his head, or drawing something that he saw while out and about.

Seelkadoom is 22 in this au, and is almost the complete opposite of Nazo. While he is also quite intelligent in not only books, combat, and street smarts, he’s also quite loud and brash when in particular groups of people. He’s quite extroverted, and is much more physically active than most of the others!

He loves anything grungy or alternative, this goes for both clothing and music. He loves the smell of metal, roses, leather, and rain. He loves comfort foods like soups, cultural comforts like onigiri, shrimp Alfredo, and just anything that’s warm and soft, warm, and filling. Although he’s not afraid of trying all sorts of culinary tastes from all over the world! He particularly likes music artists like Troy, Johnathan young, etc!

Cozy games from independent developers like lost in random, subnautica, and cult of the lamb are some of his favorites to play. Although he isn’t afraid of loading up overwatch or COD if he’s up for it!

Seelka has less morals than nazo, but not so few he’s considered a borderline monster. Even he has his limits and boundaries, and it’s best to be wise and not purposefully cross them too much, less you wish for death.

Seelka is a night owl. You cannot get this man to sleep at night unless you shove melatonin down his throat, which is why he likes to sleep all day and participate in cool stuff at night!

The only real “family” either of them have outside of the gang is seelkadoom’s creator/father, Dr. Eggman. They actually have a good relationship of father and son, and they tend to still hang around him on holidays.

How do they meet? Well, given the context that Nazo doesn’t die and he isn’t immediately taken into G.U.N’s custody, he’s basically Eggman’s right hand man. He’s the one that’s in control while the doctor is gone doing villian shit as he rests and recovers from the huge fight between him, shadow, and Sonic.

Few days later, seelka comes out of his coma after his fight with hyper sonic. With an itch to fight, he starts heading towards the doctor’s chambers to either get a fight out of him, or figure out where Sonic and shadow are to give them a beating maybe.

That is until the two lock eyes, and then the confusion begins. Who is this guy? Why is he in the doctor’s lab? Is he a friend or a foe? And why does he look conviently attractive?

So after a lot of confusion of the two wondering what the hell was going on, Eggman introduces them to the other and makes them work together.

It’s a slow process, but it’s not like they actively hate each other’s guts. It’s the usual strangers to friends thing with a little bit of awkwardness from Nazo. Eventually he warms up to seelka, and they become good friends.

Then a world pandemic happens, and G.U.N requires not only Dr. Eggman’s assistance, but seelka and Nazo’s help as well.

Then after a lot of soft moments while under G.U.N’s care, seelka finally got the guts to confess to nazo, which leads to a very soft and sweet moment between the two of them!

Once the experiments are done, and the pandemic subsides, Nazo and seelka are both paid generously by the government for their contributions and cooperation.

They both expected to get maybe like, $10-$20k, at most $30k. What they didn’t expect was for Eggman to come out crying tears of joy, showing they have almost $20 million in the bank.

So then Eggman takes on the role of seelka’s dad figure and helps them with the adult stuff. Taxes, bills, credit, investments, etc. In return he ends up being gifted $2,500,000 by the two, allowing him to be able to retire and live his life abroad. Not needing to keep fighting Sonic, as they’re willing to be the ones who cause mayhem for him.

Does that stop egghead? Nope, if anything it helps him get started on his empire! But instead of trying to take over the world, he starts with becoming the leader of a small nation, and start from there. Then he uses the money to invest into the people, the country, everything. Plus, unlike in Sonic prime, he’s actually a good and genuine leader, not blinded by the greed of wealth. As he knows wealth builds in the long run, and if he does it right, the world will be his. He just needs to keep a level head!

However, seelka starts getting bored staying inside all night and sleeping all day in their new home. So he eventually decides to take a shot at a night shift job, and is lucky enough to be taken under the wing of solleanna’s most prominent employer in the entertainment industry, Mary Jane the Cat, or MMJ for short.

She teaches him everything he needs to know about being a bartender and a card dealer, and eventually hires him for the job.

And that’s where they are now in my AU! I’m so sorry it took me so long to make this, school has been wacky, so I hope it’s worth the wait anon!

Taglist for any mutuals who want the lore:

@thebreadmeower @hunniegl4zed

[sleepingdeath-light]

blind human s/o hcs ; hunter

requested by ; 🍜 anon (09/01/23)

fandom(s) ; the owl house

fandom masterlist(s) ; main | hunter only

character(s) ; hunter wittebane

outline ; “Hello there! May I request hunter (toh) with a blind human s/o? You can choose if they were born blind or if it was an accident that happened in the demon realm for some of that sweet, sweet added angst.(≖ᴗ≖) — 🍜 Noodle Anon”

warning(s) ; references to injury, but mostly fluff!

note ; i am no longer accepting requests for this character.

if you were born blind…

it’s possible that hunter didn’t even notice your blindness until the two of you got extremely close or until you/luz brought it up around him — after all, as the golden guard he didn’t exactly pay attention to the intricacies of his enemies beyond what it took to fight you and, after that, you were so adjusted to it that he didn’t have much chance to notice it

(well, beyond maybe if you were reading a braille book or using text-to-speech on your phone around him and he realised — though, then again, hunter can be rather oblivious at times)

he still sticks close to you when you’re fighting or just out and about but his protectiveness and presence isn’t overwhelming or anything like that — he’s only really there to keep away any risks that you didn’t notice (e.g. a spell thrown your way when you were distracted by another person you’re battling, or a toddler running in front of you too quickly for you to course-correct around safely without his intervention)

though, still, he mainly just leaves you to your own devices (he knows you’re enough of a badass on your own — you beat him plenty of times, after all — so his only job is to be your backup or bag carrier)

if you became blind due to an injury in the isles recently…

hunter becomes much more protective over you than he would be otherwise as you learn to adapt to your new disability — never being too far from you as you adjust your routines, hobbies, and training to work better for you

he feels a great deal of guilt about not being there to protect you and prevent your injury and, as a result, becomes much shorter with people who treat you unkindly

(e.g. threatening a demon who scolded you for accidentally bumping into them or giving a very unsettling glare to some young witches who went to trip you when they noticed your cane)

he sticks beside or behind you at all times, even when you’ve had a cane crafted or a seeing-eye animal assigned to you, because he’s petrified of you getting hurt or targeted somehow — this fear slowly fades away as you become more confident and adjusted to your blindness, but even years down the line you’ll always find hunter close by when you’re out and about as a couple

he also looks into different accommodations from the human realm that luz has mentioned before — things like braille typewriters and label makers — and will incorporate them into your daily life to make things as easy as possible for you

either way / behaviours he adopts no matter the origin of your blindness….

though it’s a bit of a struggle at first (and he’s not the most fashion-conscious person out there), with the help of your friends hunter slowly becomes an expert at helping you construct the outfits you want to wear — describing each item in detail as he brings it to you, making sure that everything is being worn correctly (i.e. not inside out), and that it suits the style you want to go for that day

if you use a seeing-eye/guide animal then he’s going to make a habit quite quickly of carrying treats for them on him wherever you are — even doing as much research as he can to make sure that they can get a taste of whatever meal you’re both eating without getting sick (he spoils them rotten, quite frankly)

if you use a cane/other inanimate aid, then he’s going to make it his mission to carve/craft you the perfect aid — something that’s the perfect length (but that can also be extended when needed), that has a grip with a texture that isn’t off putting whilst also being difficult to lose grasp of by accident, that is designed in a way that is practical whilst also being suited to your personal style and the life you live, and that can be put away easily and that can be recalled by you when it’s needed (a simple enchantment or glyph or spell should do it — he’ll brainstorm a bit with luz and king the next chance he gets)

even though he knows well just how capable of a person you are, he’s still got a distinct protective streak that isn’t going away anytime soon and he will not tolerate anyone (be they human, demon, or witch) treating you poorly because of your disability — he doesn’t believe you should have to handle all of those conflicts, but he’ll back off if asked and hold your stuff while you give them a very stern talking to or a black eye

(that part is up to you but he’ll support you either way)

[littleracha]

Hii! Hope you’re doing well!

I wanted to ask something similar to the recent Hyunjin fic you did. I loved it sm <3

could you maybe do a Felix version..? I find so much comfort from him <33

Hello Hun! I am a little sick but that is okay! I hope you are well!

I find so much comfort in Felix as well, this is such a lovely ask.

Why Does Sunshine Glow?

Sweet, radiant sunshine was the best way to describe Felix. He glowed when he entered a room and immediately warmed up the atmosphere. A smile from the freckled man would bring comfort to anyone. Some wondered how a person could be so shiny all the time. How does the sun not burn out?

What the outside didn't know was he had a little star that kept him going. A small twinkling star that gave him a reason to smile. You gave him enough fuel to burn bright for days.

Felix snuck into your room early in the morning. He knew his little one needed sleep but he couldn't help himself. Chan gave him the day off so Felix could recover. Overworking himself every day during the comeback, Felix felt awful. He needed a day with his little galaxy. He knew you would make sure he felt like sunshine again.

"Little star? Shhh baby, it's time to wake up" He gently shook you.

"Mommy?" you blinked the bleary sleep from your eyes. "It's too early" you whined and tried to turn away.

"I know little one, Mommy knows. But Mommy has the day off and--"

"MOMMY HOME ALL DAY!!" Suddenly you were in Felix's arms.

Felix hiked you onto his hip and gave you an overdramatic kiss on the cheek.

"All day little dipper! We get to do whatever we want for a whole day!"

Lixie brought you downstairs to make breakfast. He sat you on the counter as he began to pull out some pots and pans. While he was distracted, you snuck your hand over to the cookie jar.

"Little Star, Mommy knows what you are doing." When you look back over to him he isn't even looking at you.

"How Mommy!"

"Mommy is magic baby, He knows everything"

He finished making strawberry creeps with a side of bacon. Felix ate slowly as he watched you dig in. He would never tell you to not be messy when you eat. An hour of washing whipped cream out of your hair was worth the giggles you let out. Like the well-mannered little you were, you held the plate up when you were done.

"Finished Mommy! Thank you!" Felix wiped the ricotta cheese off your nose.

"You are very welcome, Stardust. Why don't you go to the bathroom and wait for Mommy while he puts your dishes away."

Felix found you sitting patiently on the toilet seat lid with a sly smile on your lips. He knew you had something planned, Felix knows all your little tells.

"What's got you all smiley little one?" He began to pull out your morning routine items. You shook your head and stood in your place in front of Mommy.

"It's a surprise!"

"Okay sweetpea, Mommy can't wait for her surprise. Now look forward so Mommy can get you ready for the day."

The two of you washed your faces together, Felix being extra careful not to get soap in your eyes. Then he helped you brush your teeth and rinse out your mouth. Finally, Felix moved onto your hair. He always took extra time with this step. Spending these little moments with you meant everything to him. Felix rarely got to put all of his attention on you. His life was always pulling him a thousand ways away from you, but you always waited for him. You were his north star guiding him back home.

"I think we are finished little star," Felix said with a hint of sadness in his voice. All he could think about was how rapidly the end of the day was coming.

"Mommy?" your voice was soft and sweet, Felix almost didn't hear it.

"Yes, little one? Oh, are you handing Mommy something? Let Mommy see what you have in your tiny hands."

"Surprise!" you placed an assortment of star hair clips onto Felix's palm. "Mommy and I can be stars together!"

Felix smiled wide and began to place the clips in your hair, making sure they were perfect. He grabbed the large-sized star and was about to put it in before you stopped him.

"Wait, Mommy! The big star is for you!"

"Why little one?"

"Because Mommy is the Sunshine! Sunshine is the biggest star!"

Why does sunshine glow? Because it has a little galaxy to glow for.

[astradyke]

Suddenly I need you to write a dissertation on anything!! You're so well spoken <3 since we're getting into a bit of a character (?) study almost on them, I need you to talk about phil's supposed breakdown when dan left him aka went on tour. These two are so codependent it's adorable!! And now in the context of phil incorrectly (but still sweet) explaining to dan the invisible string theory. I can't!!!!! If it wasn't so sweet, it would almost be toxic but I love them!! They're obsessed with each other, only want each other, cannot stand to be separated for more than a day and want us to know it!

i again need to pause and thank you profusely because i am really happy that there is an interest for my little dissertations ^_^ this is the second to last day i have at home before i move back into university so we really need to maximize this time haha

honestly though, i know i say this every time i make a post but i actually don't know how many thoughts i have about this? i dunno... this is going to be messy but, i guess here are some of my thoughts as to why i don't think Dan and Phil are codependent (ft some tangents and affirmations that they are still crazy insane bc you are right and i'm emotional about it)

Dan is leaving me is actually such a masterpiece of a video because it is really like the loudest thing they have ever publicly released, barring the second pizza mukbang video. it's a little ridiculous in concept because like, come on guys, you're in your thirties and you haven't been apart for longer than two weeks? ever? in like a decade? but also like... i don't know! i kind of get it?

one of the aspects of their relationship that Dan specifically really amplifies in interviews (and throughout Dystopia Daily interestingly enough) is the fact that Phil is essentially a part of his everyday routine so much to the point that it's no longer remarkable. it's heard when he describes their relationship as "two 1,000 immortals/ancient divorced couple", or when he says "Phil doesn't count as a person", or when he calls Phil a piece of furniture (can't snag citations right now but if you are unfamiliar with any of these just ask me and i'll find them for you). a lot of these are done snarkily, but it is actually a massive facet of many close relationships: you become so used to each other that your everyday existence is parallel play, and you are so good at communicating that you know how to flow in and out of each other's spaces like it's breathing.

quick little Mare lore drop, let's talk about university! from January to May at the bare minimum, i would spend anywhere from 2-8 hours a day with my best friend (who comes up in these posts way too much i promise that isn't intentional). we'd study together, eat together, hang out together, etc. we were talking about this recently, because i'm actually not the most extroverted person in the world-- i have spent the majority of my time alone this summer by choice-- but i simultaneously spent literally every waking moment with another person in college, aside from when i was asleep and maybe an hour or two in the middle of the day. the last time i FaceTimed him we both spent it playing separate video games and basically not talking for 1-2 hours straight? yet i am exhausted after seeing another very close friend of mine at the mall for like, two hours. how do you reconcile all of that?

the reason why my best friend's company doesn't drain my social battery is because i have embedded being around him so deeply into my routine that my brain doesn't register it as a social event anymore. i could be in a room with him for literally eight hours and only spent about a quarter of that time socializing. and yet, a few days away from going back to university, that reality feels like a total shock to me, because i spend all my time alone-- how the fuck am i going to go back to being with him from three PM to midnight?

well, that's the exact opposite question Dan and Phil had to ask themselves in 2022! the two of them had been so used to each other's company that it really did become part of their daily routines: a post-social event recharge for Dan might not exclude him resting beside Phil, because Phil isn't a Person, he's just Phil who happens to be a person-- Dan's person. Dan playing the Elden Ring DLC involved Phil being there because yes, Dan was the one playing, but Phil's obviously allowed to be there. so, when Dan decides to go off on tour, and the two of them split apart... that's when the question springs up. because suddenly alone time isn't alone time and also Dan's there, it's proper, actual alone time. the things that you forget to do around the house because you know someone else is able to do them shocks you, because it was never a problem to rely on someone before-- Dan was literally always there! etc etc.

and i actually... okay, i love jokes about codependency and sometimes i do look at them (like with parts of Dan is leaving me) and go holy shit you two that's crazy, but i actually don't see this as a codependency thing! it's a pretty massive shock to anyone's system when you live around another person for that long in such a compact space, right? and like they joked about in... shit, i don't remember the video, might have been the wdapteo 3 (?), the two of them were startled to see the other person in the flesh after Dan's long stretch on tour because that is also a massive adjustment! it's kind of a terrifying one to be honest! just like how university life / home life is a distinction for me, home life / WAD life was a distinction for Dan. and i do take note of the fact that this scenario was unfolding while Dan was the one on tour, because I do think we'd see something kind of interesting if it was the other way around-- like, my point holds, but Phil was right in the video when he said that he has lived alone before versus Dan hasn't because as soon as he moved out he found Phil and, well, not even Dan seems to remember when he proper moved in with him versus when he just crashed in his bed for a weekend. tour life gave Dan structure, and i think that overwhelming reset to his system probably helped with the lack of Phil, versus Phil had experienced living alone but didn't have the same routine that led him to handle the shift in company with the same grace. can't fault the guy.

that being said, while i don't think they were codependent exactly in this period of their life, i do think they were still crazy obsessed with each other because like they really cannot go two seconds without calling or texting or saying each other's names it's so funny. i don't really feel comfortable likening anything they have to toxic because i (like all folks here i think) am very very strongly for the idea that really none of it is, they just kind of happen to be a healthy relationship in which both party is convinced they are soulmates and nobody else has ever had a love like theirs. which... cheers, mate. for sure! can't believe Dan and Phil invented romance, should we throw a party, should we invite Joey Graceffa etc etc

anyway! those are my thoughts <3 this is a clusterfuck of a post SORRY i am very sleepy and also between packing 😭 so not as articulate as usual. but i tried!

[finnothehimbo]

I finally got top surgery and I’m healing beautifully I feel so lucky

And I don’t have the whole depression brain fog etc that people report having. this is incredibly normal to me. i actually feel less brain fog than before. I do really poorly with estrogen progesterone I’m glad I get to go back on T soon.

However I do hate clothes. I usually am exclusively shirtless at home and I must wear my post op binder until Halloween. This is the hardest part. I’m a trans person who hates all transitions. I hate going from dressed to undressed but need to do twice a day nipple dressing changes. It’s such a nucance but will be so worth it.

I got to go with my absolute number one pick for surgeon and I’m beaming. He’s done just as good as I dreamed of. It’s so even and natural. I’m so excited to gain my muscle mass back. I’m not allowed to lift more than 10 lbs for eight weeks. Yuck. Id been working manual labor moving 300+lbs more than eight miles a day. I’ve been getting buff and am so ready for summer 2025.

I feel like I’m just the luckiest man alive.

I’ve got top surgery from my top pick for surgeon.

I’m getting free training to go into my choice job field.

I can see myself in the mirror and am so much more sane that I was just a few years ago.

I have a partner I’d love to marry.

I’m known by name at work and am the popular guy. People flag me down to just chat. I’ve been openly described as smart and interesting. My inner child is screaming to be cool without sacrificing my morals. I just care so much about people and topics that it’s cool. I got an award for caring about the people we serve at work. I just feel like I belong.

My income is comfortable. Nothing flashy but I can eat out weekly without worry.

My person is so peaceful and sweet. Fae continue to improve and go to therapy. I don’t have to beg them to care about me or our relationship.

Poly has been painless when previously I thought I’m just too jealous when in reality I enjoy poly. I just need a partner who’s similarly invested in me as I am them. They don’t sleep with and flirt with all of my friends. Fae have a FWB and it was actually a beautiful thing to see them explore faer sexuality.

I’m seen as a positive male role model.

I go to muches routinely and am confident in my sexuality. My partners libido matches mine and I never feel like a lesser partner for how I exist sexually. I have been working through so much trauma around sex and am a changed man. I look forward to our long sentimental scenes. Faer just addictive.

My therapist is just the best. She truly gets it all. Autistic queer polyam chronicly I’ll person who’s helped so very much with my mental health. She actually found a physical health issue that I think will be world changing to get treated. Just fantastic.

I’m learning Spanish and have gotten good at math.

No one’s laughing at me. No one’s mean to me. My people genuinely care. They’re safe and don’t stir up such instability and lack of safety that I lose my marbles. I thought I was a loud irrational emotional person when that’s just not the case.

I’ve got my own place with a sweet cat. She was given a clear bill of health and is turning 13 next February.

My Person takes Christmas pictures with me and I just love it. They never make me feel dumb for caring. They never make me worry. They are worthy of the care and trust I put in. They deserve the dedication I give and it’s gorgeous. They’re a 20/10 and get flirted with constantly but come home to me. I sing happily and they look forward to my songs.

I have a full pantry and a home cluttered with things i adore. It’s clean and safe.

I just feel so lucky. The world is in my fingertips. There once was A little autistic queer kid who couldn’t fathom a good life. A sad young adult who felt like no matter how clear he spoke no one believed him. He’d freak out and cry daily. It was miserable to feel so looked at but so misunderstood. That everyone was ready to judge me to the point I just became feral with no fucks left to give. I had spiraled into a point of insanity that I couldn’t figure out a way out of. Now it’s just so easy. My life’s not perfect but the hard outcomes are so easy to stomach. My top surgery has been completely wonderful. I’m just so thankful.

[rantsofamadam]

New Year Thoughts (24-25)

The only accurate way to describe this year, is 366 days of non-stop change. Expected or unexpected, something new was formed, created, or or occurred each day.

Very little breaks or space to breathe, one event after the other, again, and again, and again. This was not a year of rest, 2024.

You were always in the back of my mind. Like a child in December, with Christmas constantly creeping into their thoughts. Holding to hope so tightly in their tiny fists, and letting it all come and go as the holiday passes.

There’s always joy with Christmas, of course. But waking up the next morning comes with a sort of empty disappointment. All that could have been the magic of Christmas, was. The hope has diminished, and next year is now forever away.

All what could have been 2024, was. The hope has diminished- but I don’t feel as empty this year as I have other December 31st’s. Yes next year is forever away but I am not anxious to reach it from where I am.

I needed this year. I needed forceful change, a reason to become the person I’ve wanted to be, and come to the conclusion I am strong and able to persevere on my own.

I have never been without the routine of school, friendships and constant people. Support, reassurance, taking on my self-casted therapist friend role and blending into the background to avoid bothering the rest of this busy world.

What an exercise it was, letting all of that become stripped from me this past year with the nature of time and growth- as well as my own choice.

My hair reached my shoulders as my confidence and willingness expanded as well. 2024 was going to change me no matter what I did- so I might as well control what I can to change with it.

In this current moment where my thoughts are jumbled and self-hate is high, I forget how far I’ve come. I don’t dread the new year anymore, I enjoy grieving what will never be again and reflecting on every new step I made to become who I am now. I have a beating heart, for a start. I did so much more than I ever thought I could.

I stage managed a show, I read an original poem in front of my entire senior class, I turned eighteen, I graduated high school, I won awards in my school art show and literary fest, I broke up with a long-term partner, I discovered my dad had cancer, I published a poetry book, I received two spinal surgeries, I met my current boyfriend and best friend, I grew into my own confidence, style, and creativity- I took action, I tried things, I broke sometimes and got back up again on my own-

I did so many “impossible” tasks this year and more. This is only the beginning.

2024 is not a year of endings, it is a year of beginnings. A year of change, transitions, milestones to begin a new era of life.

There is a bitter sweetness to it. As I reflect on my kindergarten school ID with the words “class of 2024” before I could read or had any concept of how years worked. “2024 is forever away,” almost as if it wasn’t tangible or real for my childhood self, nowhere I could see myself being. 2024 felt like a fantasy, a dystopian dream, something to worry about in the future, light years down the line from kindergarten.

Here I am. A legal adult, alive and breathing, years away from kindergarten with the ability to read and draw better than 5 year old me could ever comprehend. She would like me, she would think I am so cool, and proud of me for drawing, writing and loving what I love just like she always wanted for me.

2024 never felt real for her, it barely feels real for me now, yet here it is, coming to an end. A lost kindergarten ID, a graduation cap behind me, fulfilling my childhood dream of growing in confidence which happens to be mine now as well.

I have a tendency to self depreciate, but I think I will choose this moment to thank myself, for all I’ve tried and accomplished. There are times when credit is due, and I’m claiming this to be one of those times.

I’ve grown so much, I’ve changed, I’ve succeeded, yet this is far from the end.

If you are reading this, you’ve grown so much, you’ve changed, you’ve succeeded and this is far, far from your ending. Thank you so much for being here. For staying. For surviving this eventful year of change and letting your heart remain beating long enough to see the beginning of what this next year could be.

I had hopes, expectations, ideals for 2024. Some came true, some did not, some I forgot about. 2025 is a blank slate. All I know for certain is I am going to stay here through it, embrace every event and step out of my comfort zone just a little more. So maybe I can look back one year from now and thank myself again. If not for growing, then simply surviving. Being. Staying.

Thank you 2024, for all I hoped you would be, all you were and all you weren’t.

And thank you, each one of you, for surviving, being, staying through it all. <3 I’m so proud of you, and I hope we remain in touch through whatever 2025 may bring for each of us.

- C.Joy. (2024)

[tatiejosie]

28 for Bella

ohohhhhh boy thank u for asking!!!!!

28. Top ten things that you love about your blorbo

• She's so pretty uwu <3 Her heterochromia is a really cool touch to her character design, and I love the punk 90s milf look. I'm using this opportunity to point out that Bella is unusually tall for a woman, but you can rarely notice it because Mandrake is the main Tall Bitch of the film, and there are few other adult humans to compare. I also very much enjoy her looks because she is Very Shaped and as much as I'm looking respectfully, I am most certainly still Looking. She's making it very hard not to look. [The film also never uses her looks to demean her character, but that's just Ghibli for you. Respect women juice has been dranken]

• She shamelessly reclaims her unusual appearance. Messy blue hair, mismatched eyes, pointy nose, massive stature and you won't see a hint of insecurity in this woman. She's glamorous and happily high-maintenance (wears makeup everyday, sharp manicured nails, hair-curlers routine), straying out of mainstream beauty standards whenever she feels like it (vibrant makeup colours, mismatched eyeshadow, bright high-heeled boots, skull earrings). Note the high contrast between the orphanage's matron and Bella. That woman sticks out like a sore thumb but she's oozing with confidence.

• She's not afraid of dirty labour and gross things. Look at her holding the damn slug with her bare hands and putting her entire arm into the gross gunk of her table without an ounce of disgust. She's not some dainty wimp who's afraid of chipping her perfectly manicured nails on the carcass of a roadkill. She's part of the primordial soup and she has no fucks to give.

• She is SO capable and versatile. Non-gentle reminder that Bella Yaga has been single-handedly managing the household; daily chores such as laundry, shopping, cooking (the artbook states that Bella is a great cook), probably cleaning to a certain extent; working on magic and the chores that come with it, foraging and gathering plants, processing the raw materials, preparing the spells and potions; and managing her spell business while maintaining her clientele and deliveries? And that's just the chores thing, but there's the whole bookkeeping aspect of maintaining the household and her business. Clearly Mandrake uses the demons card for any possible task, but she cannot do that, and the end credits show that Mandrake is only starting to learn how to cook! Bella is also the one who drives the car, and she seems to have the skills to repair it as well according to the credits. So yeah TLDR Bella is the housewife, the breadwinner, the Mom Friend, the Beer Dad, the Vodka Aunt, and the most reliable person of the house. We love a multitasking queen

• She's hot-headed and seemingly immune to bullshit - you're not getting away with being a treacherous little bitch without experiencing the Smack Of The Century. She also doesn't seem to be receptive to Earwig's manipulative ass trying to sweet-talk her way into practicing magic; I'm on the fence about the morality of Earwig's controlling behaviour so it's nice to have at least one character who doesn't fall for her bullshit.

• She's officially described as a skilled magician, even to demon standards! She has a whole ass notebook with hand-written spells that she probably crafted herself. And considering that the book looks childishly girly and worn-out, we can assume that she started writing in this notebook when she was a child.

• She's considerate and emotionally intelligent enough to live with and manage an unstable demon. Idk if that really counts as a quality because that's very much a fear response from abusive behaviour but hey, Mandrake loses his shit very easily and she's able to interact with him on a daily basis without dying so that's pretty girlbossy in my book. She seems supportive of him and obviously cares for him and his comfort, even if he's difficult. [Note that in the book, she does fight back when Mandrake assaults her]

• She's one of the queerest characters of the Ghibli pantheon. Excentric and glamorous, skilled beyond classic gender roles. She was ambiguously involved with Earwig's mother and Mandrake. Her husband is the twink of all times. She's the gruff drummer who starts the bar fight and WINS the bar fight, she's the blunt auntie who shittalks your parents with her cigarette hanging off her lip.

• She's a professional drummer and Mandrake thinks she's really skilled. Drumming takes a highly efficient coordination and an incredible sense of rhythm. Drummers are human metronomes with the stamina of a beast - they're the backbone of their band along with the bassist and yet they're always placed in the back of the stage bc otherwise they'll be too noisy and drown out the rest of the band. Managing to be both the brawn who bangs like a caveman, and the galaxy brain who maintains the entire song's tempo. Drummers are the unsung heroes hidden in the dark, carrying the weight of the drumline. That's Bella Yaga for you. /lh

• She still gets flustered when she's shown affection. That's it that's the thing I can't be normal about

Thank you so much for allowing me to be cringe about this specific blorbo, I love Bella very much and I feel that she deserves more love <3