#i don't even want to know how much that store would price those sets at if i were to sell them

[reignpage]

He Gave Me The (Eww)

Content: things the jjk men do that give you the ick, hard read fr, brutally honest, second hand embarrassment, don't tell me they wouldn't...you know they would...they're just men after all

Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna

Satoru

Tells jokes he thinks are hilarious and repeats them when no one laughs. Even explains them. Looks to you to laugh too with manic eyes, begging, pleading. Might even throw in a, ‘Tough crowd, amirite?’

Gets ignored in the group chat and will keep spamming until he gets the attention he wants.

Tries to get discounts at any and every store by flashing a grin and using those baby blues to charm the sales assistant. Shoots his shot with men too. It rarely works and when he gives them his black AMEX card, the sales assistants always get a look in their eyes like, ‘Seriously?’

Sings the chorus too early and plays it off by trailing and then coming in at the right part. Goes, ‘Ay…ay….ay, YEA– oh… ahahah…ay…ayy… yeahhhh…’

Suguru

Spits when he talks. He gets into these long rants about monkeys and whatever so he doesn’t even notice when the person he’s talking to discreetly wipes off the fat droplet. 

You’ve seen him going on spiels to random people, gets so into it that he also doesn’t realise they’ve walked away. Would play it off by taking his phone out and going, ‘Alright, talk to you later.’

Or, he'll say a snarky comment to someone out of nowhere and they didn't even hear him, caught by surprise, so they just awkwardly laugh and hope he doesn't follow up.

Super rude to servers at restaurants you take him to. Clicks his fingers. Confronts those moody teenagers working part time and says, ‘Why don’t you smile? You’ll look so much more friendly if you do.’

Wears open toed sandals everywhere. Dawgs out for free, toenails unclipped and ever so slightly yellow. Could probably cut a bitch.

Choso

At a group setting, a picture might be getting shown around and he isn't being shown the picture. He will say, ‘Can I see? Hey, you missed me. I wanna see. What’s so funny? Guys, come on, I didn’t see. Hey!’

When everyone else is in pairs or groups talking, he’ll go on his phone and open the Weather or Calculator app to pretend he’s doing something important. His phone is on full brightness so everyone can see he’s not actually texting anyone.

Gets left on read quite often. Will double text anyone and everyone. Triple texts even. Asks, ‘You aren’t ignoring me, are you?’ 

Invites himself to functions. If someone mentions a party or a visit to a museum, for example, with their friends, he’ll say, ‘That sounds fun. That’s at 3pm? I’m free. See you there!’

Toji

Boy oh boy where to begin…

Does the broke boyfriend hug. Swings you side to side too and gives you a kiss on the head, talking bout, ‘I’ll get the next one on payday, ma.’

Flashes his ass crack when he climbs out of the car. 

Might even have skid marks.

Asks to remove the service charge off the bill, doesn’t tip no matter how great the server is, and probably puts his own hair in the food to comp the meal. Will even flash you a wink like he’s finessed the system.

Will fart and burp in front of you unashamedly. Doesn’t care how stinky it is. Laughs when you cover your nose. Won’t lie, he probably loves pulling a Dutch Oven on you. Peak comedy for him. 

Shows up to his kid’s school events in his bum ass outfit and goes straight to the food table. It could be his university graduation and everyone’s in their pretty dresses and sharp suits, he will be in a Uniqlo heattech and grey joggers with a stain on it. 

Finds a crumb on his shirt, doesn’t know what it is or how long it’s been there. Will eat it anyway.. 

You point to a bouquet of flowers or a cake you want, excited and wanting to buy it. He'll look at the price and very loudly complain, 'That's how much? The hell? Nah, we're not getting that. If you want flowers, I can pick some up from a park for free.'

Kento

Still gets embarrassed about farting or taking a shit around you. Will make a lame excuse to exit the room like, ‘Oh, sweetheart, I think I left a light on in the next room.’ Doesn’t realise that the walls aren’t that thick and you can hear his adorable toot. If you ask him if he’s okay because he’s taking a while in the bathroom, he’ll lie and say, ‘No, dear, I’m alright. Just fixing a light bulb in here. I’ll be out in a minute.’ The type to not realise you can quite literally smell the evidence after. 

Will throw random slang and use it wrong. ‘You already ate? That’s slaying me.’ Or, ‘She cheated on her boyfriend? That’s so cunt of her. Please don’t entertain her anymore.’

Has built up a reputation to you as being all-knowing. Likes that you ask him first before Google. But when you ask him a question he doesn't know the answer to, he make some sort of distraction so he can go on his phone, find out the answer and give it to you like he knew all along.

Reads so much but often comes across words he knows the meaning of but has never heard anyone actually say. Mispronounces them. Says 'studious' as 'study-yus.' Or 'albeit' as 'al-bayt.'

Sukuna

Crashes out so often that he sometimes mistakenly gets upset for no reason. A servant will ask if you want a drink, assumes they’re talking to him and gets grumpy. ‘I already said no. Can you hear?’ When informed, he’ll tsk to cover up he’s ever so slightly embarrassed but everyone can see his ears going red. If he hears a single snicker though, he’s airing out the room.

Even when you tell him it’s okay and he doesn’t have to, he’ll join in on group dates just because he gets FOMO lowkey. Will stand there menacingly and so super out of place he actually looks like he’s stalking the group. Makes everyone feel awkward and tense. 

Children get so scared of him that he’s been escorted out of premises before. You have to join him, apologising to everyone, otherwise he’ll kill all of your friends. Like children will full on start sobbing and hyperventilating and you’re ashamed to tell your friends he’s actually not allowed within a certain radius of a school. Their mind goes to the worst places.

[pythonmoth]

cw: anxiety. post-traumatic stress disorder (torture). reader is traumatized. reader is a bit unreliable. military inaccuracies. hurt/comfort (I guess?).

simon x f!reader. poly tf141. father figure price.

First | Last | Next

Being home is incredibly boring, especially if you can't move much.

Your brother's been taking care of you, making sure you're eating, that you let your injuries breathe, and soon enough, the cuts on your feet allow you to move around on your own. It takes a whole month for your brother to leave you alone for longer than a few hours. It's a good thing, really, because if you want to spend hours just laying in your bed and crying in silence as you stare at the ceiling, you can. He would only come whenever you needed a ride, anyway.

Despite being able to move around and now even managing to use your sensitive fingers, you dread the idea of going outside. You have to wear sandals and loose pants, because your toes cannot, by any means, be touched by any kind of fabric yet, or else you're grimacing in pain. Feeling defenseless hasn't been a thing ever since you became part of the team. Not even your skills could take down Simon, but you could put up a fight with them all, easily; never won, but you were confident with anyone else on the street.

No doubt you could still beat them up, your skills are still there, but the idea of someone somehow restricting your movements felt like torture all over again. The idea of anyone getting a hold of you makes you want to throw up. Your mind and body betray you, making you remember those awful moments, and you don't realize you're pulling a face.

"You're spacing out".

You look up at the therapist, giving her a little nod as an apology, getting comfortable on the seat. Restless, you can't help but look around for a moment again. The office is incredibly white, clean, filled with mirrors for whatever fucked up reason, and the only thing that isn't grey or white is one of the cushions on the couch on the other side of the room. It's deep purple. It looks awful.

Seemingly realizing you won't be of much help with the question she just asked you, she gives you a smile. "How are your nails? I can see you're using your hands a lot more".

"They're healing" you reply, looking down at your fingers instead of focusing on the cushion. "I can use my hands pretty normally now, but I can't use the stove for long".

"Because of the heat". An affirmation. You've already mention it before, and you're not surprised she remembers that. Probably read it on her notes.

"It hurts, yeah".

"And how are your feet?" she asks, looking down at the way you absentmindedly drag your hands on your pants from your thighs to your calves in slow movements. You only realize what you're doing because you can hear the way her pen drags across the paper, distracting you.

"Well... I can only wear sandals. Doctor said I should be okay to move around with real shoes in three months".

"And what do you think?"

"He's the doctor. I want to believe he knows what he's doing, so I can't really question it. I do hope it heals sooner, though".

The therapist writes down on her notebook. With an uncomfortable feeling, you desperately want to know what she's writing, your eyes drifting to the movement of the pen, but you can't make out a single letter.

"So you trust the doctor, right?" she questions, moving one of her erasers to the other side of her desk. Your eyes are fixed entirely on it, on the little thud the eraser makes when she sets it down.

"He knows best, that's for sure. If he's there, must be a reason" you answer, tilting your head as she keeps moving her things around, making them fit somewhere else on her desk. The pencil goes to the left, then to the right, the eraser from top to bottom of the notebook, as if she's as antsy as you are.

"Do you apply that thought somewhere else? Like... at work? Or if you need help at a store and find an employee, maybe?"

The therapist's eyes are on you all the time, your hands, your anxious feet; your little habits coming to light with a single look. The way you bite the inside of your lower lip, the little double blink you make when she moves something in her desk yet again, even if you don't say anything.

"Of course. If they know their way around, it's only right that I ask for help, and trust that" you answer, frowning. You don't think that question is relevant at all, but she keeps writing, and writing.

"I see. Thank you. Now, you mentioned you've been texting G- Simon. Can you tell me how it makes you feel?"

You go silent for a moment, your fingertips dragging across your arm, so softly you can barely feel it. "It's better now".

During the first three months of being home, Simon would text you nearly every single day. He didn't expect a text back and you knew that, because you told him you wouldn't promise to be responsive. Simon would send you pictures of their plain meals, of Gaz sleeping on your bed, Johnny posing next to Price with their thumbs up, or terrible selfies of himself. Always without a mask.

Tuesday

11:27

"Price scolded Johnny because he had crumbs on his uniform. It was hilarious"

Saturday

03:26

"Just got back. Everyone ok"

Even Johnny would text you from time to time. It was mostly memes, awful stickers or ridiculous, random photos of Gaz mid talking, his face weird, or Price smacking Simon's head, or the entire team posing for a picture, Gaz' arm hovering to the side as if to hug your shoulders. You didn't even need to wonder why Gaz hadn't texted you; that man hated technology with a passion.

Still, you never texted back.

You didn't really pay attention to the texts, or the little voice notes, or the selfies. You didn't feel like reading them properly, always leaving them on seen or just grunting to yourself whenever you heard their distinctive tone. Why you didn't change it in the past few months, you don't know. Maybe that's a question for your therapist.

But then, the texts stop.

Monday

16:49

"Tough job"

"We leave at midnight"

23:42

"Text you when we're back"

Only, Simon doesn't text back. For days. For weeks.

You can't pretend you're not worried. It's impossible, really. You're half-tempted to call him, but you can't, you don't know how it will feel to hear his voice again. He said he'd text you and he hasn't, so he isn't back yet, and you don't want to feel vulnerable by opening up. Yet.

You go through Simon's chat, actually paying attention to whatever he sent you. You realize he sometimes sent you long texts, apologizing, accepting what he did, and even a few voice notes that you didn't notice before. They made your heart race as you listened.

"I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I love you, and you don't have to forgive me"

"Garrick told me to tell you that if you aren't eating he'll go and— shut the hell up, Johnny, I'm talking!"

"Tell her we'll go visit her by the end of the month".

That's Price's voice, you realize.

Feeling incredibly choked up, you check Johnny's chat next. You're expecting to find nothing but memes, as you've seen in passing, but when you see he sent you long, long texts, you finally let yourself cry properly.

He's been apologizing since the day you left, too afraid to face you but his texts are so poorly written you know he was in a rush, or crying, or both. His voice notes, however... they just make you break.

"I'm so sorry. I can't undo what we did. You don't owe me anything, I just... really hope you can at least tolerate me. If not, please know I'll always care for you. I love you. Goodnight".

Something inside of your chest eases, maybe moved to the point of forgiveness, even if just a moment. Your therapist has been helping you unveil whatever you missed during that day— during the torture. It's been a tough process, and she insisted you visited twice a week instead of once, but it helped. You could now understand.

Still, understanding the situation only makes your worry grow.

"Text you when we're back"

For two long weeks, there's nothing, from nobody. Only silence and fear. For the first time since you left, you're scared for them. Scared you'll have to open the door one day and it'll be Price, or maybe not even him, telling you the team is dead.

On the second week, your therapist says you can give them a call, or text them if it's more comfortable. When you say you can't, she advices you to write them letters.

"Tell them whatever you wish to say. If you're angry, write it. If you're worried, write it. There's no good or bad feelings, and it's only right to feel them. Write them for yourself, and then you can choose to give them to your team, or not".

And you did.

A whole notebook of messy writing, some tears staining the paper, and your hate slowly turned to understanding. Real understanding. Not forgiveness, not yet, but it's progress.

By the third week with no news, you just can't handle it anymore. You press call without a second thought and your heart squeezes painfully in your chest when it rings, and rings, and rings.

Hopeless, you lay in your bed, your mind working overtime as you stare at the ceiling.

A muffled dinging sound startles you awake, shifting on the bed to find your phone because that's Simon's tone. Adjusting your vision, you realize it fell from your hands to the ground when you fell asleep. You dive for it, grimacing when your sensitive fingertips brush against the carpet, but to see his name there is enough for you to endure it.

Thursday

01:22

"Safe. Couldn't text you earlier"

01:22

"You called me. Are you hurt?"

01:22

"Safe. Call me"

"Now"

His name pops up not even a moment later, his ringtone filling your ears. When you pick up, he's barely breathing, and you wonder if you're about to be told bad news.

Simon explains they were on a very tough mission, and that that was why he couldn't text you, or communicate with you at all. You could hear him shift, move around. Restless.

They got caught in enemy territory, surviving the best they could for two weeks, Simon tells you. Johnny was shot in the leg and Gaz was the one who helped him out, since Simon was too busy dragging Price, who was bleeding out because someone decided it would be fun to put a bullet through his left shoulder.

"I wasn't any better. Dr. Wilson called me a dick, and then made me lay down because I was shaking. Ridiculous" he grunts, his voice hushed on the other side of the line. "Got shot on my side, I just didn't feel it, but I was better than the other two".

He doesn't seem to expect you to speak, huffing and shuffling. You can tell he's in the clinic room, the echo incredibly familiar by now.

Of course, he doesn't tell you that the reason why he didn't text you the whole past week, is because he's been asleep, drugged out of his mind because of the pain.

"Everyone's okay. No risk. Garrick's the only one who didn't get hurt. I think—"

"I was worried, Simon. I'm glad everyone is okay".

There's silence for a long moment. Simon takes a deep breath from the other side of the phone, sighing deeply. You could hear the smile in his tone. "I wouldn't let myself get killed, luv. I'm sorry I couldn't text you before. We're safe now".

You two spend the rest of the night on the call, with you mostly staying in silence and listening. You can't believe how scared you've been for all of them, for Simon. You know it's gonna be hard to fully forgive them, if at all, but you can't help the way your body relaxes as you hear him breathing against your ear. You can't help the way your arms curl around the pillow, seeking his warmth. As before.

The call goes on for long hours. When your soft hums as he speaks stop coming to his end, Simon goes quiet, realizing you've fallen asleep. He sighs and shifts to look at the ceiling, holding the phone against his ear. Focusing on your soft breathing, he let's himself fall asleep, the gunshot wound completely unimportant if he gets to listen to you sleeping again.

-ˋˏ✄——————————————————

He just wishes you were there.

im so sick y'all, my head hurts, but I obviously couldn't resist! also, you guys like Marina? her new song is so good! mowgli's road's vibes.

the therapist's room I'm describing in the story is actually my therapist's old room. I hated it so BAD. the mirrors were a terrible decision. also, if you can't relate to this type of therapy, that's fine. it's just my experience.

again, styling is fully intentional. can y'all tell how our reader is feeling?~

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird-deactivated202 @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @clickbait-official @hades--baby @blackhawkfanatic @sirbonesly @saki---chan @skeletonsucker @nnsissys @kukavittu @tessakate @honestlymassivetrash @s-a-v-a-n-a-34

(we're so many now, wow! thank you all ♡)

[littlelovelunette]

HIHI!!!! First I rlly wanna say I love your writing, has me giggling and kicking my feet istg.

IVE BEEN HAVING THIS IDEA FOR A LONGGGG TIME, AND ITS WELDER SEVIKA!!!

I would say like in the beginning the reader has been wanting her own vanity for such a long time already so she has a place to put her stuff like, makeup, purses, jewelry, yk yk etc. and one day Welder!Sevika takes it upon herself to make her beautiful wife her very on vanity made from her hands, and the vanity has its own mirror, stool, compartments, and the little tiny light bulbs. And so one day when the reader comes home from a very long day at her workplace, Sevika surprises her with the vanity she made herself for the reader, and she even paired it with a bouquet of metal Lilies! All fluff fluff fluff and sweet kisses and hugs please!!! I’ve been dying for your requests to open once again for this!!🩷🩷🩷

oh, it's so sweet you've been waiting for my reqs to open 😭😭😭😭 and thank you so much for liking my writinggg

Vanity & Lilies

Welder!Sevika x Wife!Reader

When you and Sevika got together, everything seemed to go right. Absolutely everything.

You both were married before you knew it, and the ring? It was gorgeous.

You both weren't rich, but it didn't really matter.

The small house the both of you shared, you made sure to make it look as cozy as ever.

But there was one problem. You didn't have a vanity.

You'd been wanting one since you both moved in and got married, but never got the chance to actually buy one.

Financially, you both weren't exactly that well-off either so you decided to put that thought on hold.

But Sevika notices how sad you look without being able to keep your purses, jewelry and makeup organised.

Especially because you both were having a fresh start of life, you deserve a vanity.

Sevika saw everytime you eyed the vanity whenever you and her would pass by a furniture store.

Those longing eyes and slightly parted lips, but whenever your eyes met the price tag you had immediately recoiled, and told her, "It's okay, I don't need it that badly."

"As if," Sevika thought, mentally scoffing. She knew you wanted it, and it hurt her ego not to be able to provide it.

And the worst of all?

Sevika couldn't bear the thought of you being sad over a damn vanity.

Maybe it didn't matter to her as much as it did to you, but it did now that she saw how upset you were over it.

You were at work, Sevika knew it. You both shared location on the phone, so she was aware whenever you were not at home.

She had welded a vanity for you last night, and now she was carrying it into the house from the garage.

Sevika gave a once over in the room before she slowly placed the vanity in place.

"Geez, all the things I do for you," Sevika muttered before sighing and connecting the light bulbs to the socket, turning them on to check, "Good enough..."

Sevika then moved all your jewelry and makeup onto the vanity, organising it with ease because she has huge hands, come on.

It doesn't take her long to finish setting it up, she slowly and gently placed the bouquet of metal lilies on the vanity top, smiling at the sight.

You unlocked the door with a tired sigh, entering the house. "Hey," you murmured seeing Sevika, "You're off early today?"

"Yeah," Sevika took your purse and coat for you, hanging the coat on the coat hanger and casually putting the purse in the vanity when you reached the bedroom.

You stopped dead in your tracks, staring at the vanity as if you'd seen a ghost.

"You made this..." you stated more than asked as you took small steps towards your gift from your wife.

"Don't get the wrong idea," Sevika grumbled, rubbing the back of her neck, "I just had too much free time, and didn't know what to do—"

Sevika was cut off, and shocked when you suddenly hugged her tightly with your arms around her frame and face buried in her chest.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank youu!" You said as you gave her a tight squeeze before jumping away and over to the vanity before she could even react.

"Lilies," you giggled and picked the metal flowers up, turning them over and examining them, "Oh goodness, they're beautiful."

You put them down before looking at Sevika again, "No one's ever done something so nice for me before," you took her hands in your smaller ones.

"Tch, it's nothing, just a damned vanity," Sevika tried to play it off cool, but her heart was beating out of her chest.

"It's so much more than 'just a damned vanity'," you pulled her in for a kiss. Sevika's eyes were wide at the start, shocked.

But then slowly she melted into the kiss, hands finding their place on your waist as she kissed you back. Your hands were on her broad shoulders.

Nothing mattered in that moment, as long as you had Sevika, nothing truly was that bad.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

2 Hot Chocolates & a Fortune Cookie

SUMMARY: “Never forget to tell people how much you love them. They may not know.” is what is written on the little piece of paper in your fortune cookie. But maybe the boy who gave you the cookie feels that these two phases applies to him too.

CHARACTERS: Deuce Spade / Kalim Al-Asim

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Kiss

WARNING: Spoilers from "Sam's New Year Sale"

WORD COUNT: An average of 1.180 words per character.

COMMENTS: I like to write things based on the cards and I wanted to write something with the New Year's cards but I never thought of anything good enough. Until I reread the story looking for an idea and here it is.

I hope you all enjoy 🥠 And Happy New Year! 🎉

About the currency in Twisted Wonderland: From what I understand, on the JP server the Madols would be the equivalent of Japanese Yen while on the ENG server the Thaumarks would be the equivalent of US dollars. Which personally makes it easier for me to tell whether something is expensive or not in this world.

P.S.: In the second Sam's New Year Sale event, Vil is the one who says that the Mystery Bags cost 40 Thaumarks.

CONTEXT: You even thought about buying one of Sam's mystery bags, but when you saw all the commotion that there was every day in that store, plus the fact that the bags cost 40 Thaumarks (and it's not like you could afford to spend that much on a simple bag considering the money Crowley gives you), you ended up giving up on the idea and not even going to Sam's store to say hi to Deuce and Kalim.

It was evening and you were in the lounge of Ramshackle Dorm when you heard someone knocking on the door. You open it and see Deuce still in his New Year's Attire.

“Good evening, (Y/N). Sorry to show up so late, but I wanted to give you one of these.” He hands you one of Sam's mystery bags. “I bought one and saved it for you. You never went to the store, did you? Neither Kalim nor I saw you. I thought maybe you were too busy or couldn't make it because it was always full. But I thought you might like to receive one. ...Hm? Oh, don't worry, you don't have to pay me back. It can be a New Year's gift for you. Open it! I'm curious to see what you got.”

You thank him, take the bag and open it. You take out a large box that says ‘Hot Chocolate Kit’. In the box there is a bag of mini marshmallows, a packet of chocolate powder, a bag of cookies and two edible spoons.

“Did you like it? I'm glad. Since it’s random, people often receive things that have nothing to do with their tastes. But who wouldn't like a hot chocolate in this cold?”

You put that box down on the entrance table and take out a second box which is a set of matching winter themed mugs. You suggest to Deuce to use those new mugs with you and taste that hot chocolate together.

“I would love to!” He accepts with a smile. “I'll help you prepare it. I hope we can make a third mug for Grim too, otherwise he'll be mad at us.”

But you see something else inside the bag, it looks like shiny paper. You put the box with the mugs on the entrance table too, put your hand back inside the bag and take out a golden ticket.

“It can't be!” Deuce is shocked! “It’s an Amazing Ticket! So they really are true!” He is very happy and excited for you. “You don't know what it is? The students were crazy about Sam's mystery bags because of this. From what Jamil-senpai told us these are tickets you can trade for any one thing in the Mystery Shop. And there's no price limit. You can trade it for literally anything in the store! This is the first time I've seen one. You're so lucky! That’s awesome!”

You feel a little guilty because it was Deuce who paid the 40 Thaumarks for that bag. So you try to give him that ticket.

“What? No! The ticket is yours. I gave you the bag as a gift. I made enough money from this gig to buy what I wanted, don't worry. If you were lucky enough to get it, it means you deserve it. Really, keep it and buy whatever you want.” He gives you an encouraging smile. “Oh! One more thing.” He takes a small bag out of his pocket and takes out a fortune cookie and gives it to you. “Don't worry, these were free to any customer in the store.”

You take the cookie, break it in half, take out the paper inside, give one half to Deuce and keep the other for yourself.

“Never forget to tell people how much you love them.” You read the message on the paper. “They may not know.”

Deuce chokes on the cookie but quickly recovers.

“Y-yeah, I'm fine. Sorry.” He chuckles awkwardly.

You jokingly ask if he forgot to tell his mother that and he laughs awkwardly again.

“Ha ha, no, I always end my calls telling her I love her." He gets a little embarrassed by this statement, but he continues. "W-what about you?”

You say making Grim's favorite dishes is an ‘I love you’ enough for him. Deuce laughs with you and suggests that the two of you go make the hot chocolates. Even if you seem as flustered as he is, he's too oblivious to notice these things.

He thinks about that message a lot while he prepares the hot chocolate with you in the kitchen, to the point of getting distracted from time to time. When you're already putting the marshmallows on top of the hot chocolate, you make a heart with them and give the mug to Deuce. He blushes slightly when he sees the marshmallows heart, but maybe it was the incentive he needed.

“Hum... (Y/N)...” Deuce starts saying, a little nervous, but then he takes a quick and deep breath and looks at you with renewed courage. “I was thinking about the phrase in your fortune cookie and...” He looks away to the hot chocolate you gave him. “I know I always call you buddy and stuff like that but...” He starts blushing again. “The truth is... I think... I like you as more than a friend.”

He won't be able to say much more than this, it's all still very new to him. So, you are the one who takes the next step and tells him, just as the cookie advised you, how much you like/love him. He looks back at you, surprised and with a sparkle in his eyes.

Now knowing that you feel the same way about him, he no longer needs to hold back and attacks you with a hug that lifts your feet off the ground while kissing your cheek.

He puts you back on the ground but continues to hug you. He doesn't have the courage to kiss you on the lips even if he wants to. But if you do it, he'll try to reciprocate with the most affectionate kiss he can muster.

After that, you two will go to the lounge with your hot chocolates. Grim will start complaining that you didn't make him one and Deuce will reveal a third mug of hot chocolate for him.

While Grim burns his tongue because he tried to drink the still-scalding chocolate right away, you and Deuce sit on the couch together with one of his arms around you.

“Happy New Year, (Y/N).” He wishes you with one more kiss.

It was evening and you were in the lounge of Ramshackle Dorm when you heard someone knocking on the door. You open it and see Kalim still in his New Year's Attire.

“HI (Y/N)!” Kalim greets you with his huge smile. “Happy New Year!” He reaches out and hands you one of Sam's mystery bags. “I didn't see you at the store, so I thought maybe you didn't want to get in the meddle of all that crowd. These have been some really crazy days. Ah hah. That's why I bought a mystery bag for you. Here! I'm so curious to see what you've got!”

You thank him, take the bag and open it. You take out a large box that says ‘Hot Chocolate Kit’. In the box there is a bag of mini marshmallows, a packet of chocolate powder, a bag of cookies and two edible spoons.

“Wow! So cool! You have everything you need to make hot chocolate. It tastes so good in winter. Did you like it?” You say yes. “That's great! I saw many students who were disappointed with the things they got. It's great to see that it was a nice surprise for you.”

You put that box down on the entryway table and take out a second box which is a set of matching winter themed mugs. You suggest to Kalim to use those new mugs with you and taste that hot chocolate together.

“Really?! I would love-!” His overly enthusiastic smile fades, giving way to a sad one. “I... would love to... but...”

“You cannot eat or drink anything that has not been approved by Jamil first.” You finish his sentence.

He gives you an apologetic smile.

“Yeah... But I can keep you company and help you prepare it if you want. I'm sure it's great.”

However, you have another idea. You pick up your phone and search for something while asking Kalim if Jmail knew he was there. He tells you yes, that he told Jamil that he just wanted to give you a New Year's gift before going to Scarabia. You find Jamil's contact and call him. He answers immediately.

“Did something happen to Kalim?!” It's the first thing you hear Jamil say.

You say no, that everything is okay, and tell him about the mystery bag and the hot chocolate to ask if you prepare it and taste it before Kalim he can drink it with you.

“Hmm... I don't know...” You hear Jamil's uncertain voice say. “It's not that I don't trust you. I know you would never hurt Kalim but...”

“No one needs to know.” You add.

There was silence for quite a while.

“*sigh* Okay. But only because it's you. And if this came in one of Sam's bags it could have gone to any student, which makes it difficult for it to be something directed at Kalim... Still, be careful you hear!”

You thank Jamil and consequently Kalim also shouts a ‘thank you’ to him. Kalim's sunny smile returns and he is now more excited than ever to make this hot chocolate with you.

But you see something else inside the bag, it looks like shiny paper. You put your hand back inside the bag and take out a golden ticket.

“WHAAAT?! IT CAN'T BE!” He sees you looking at him perplexed. “Sorry. But you got an Amazing Ticket! Deuce and I were wondering if they were even real. And now you got one! Hm? You don't know what they are? It seems that it was because of them that so many people were buying Sam's mystery bags. Jamil told us that these are tickets you can trade for any one thing in the Mystery Shop. And there's no price limit. You can trade it for literally anything in the store! Isn't it amazing?! You’re so lucky!”

You would feel guilty for being the one who got that ticket and not the person who paid 40 Thaumarks for the bag. But Kalim was filthy rich, there was no reason for you to feel bad.

“Oh! Speaking of luck, I almost forgot to give you this.” Kalim takes a small bag out of his pocket and takes out a fortune cookie to give to you. “Sam was offering them to all the customers in the store.”

You take the cookie, break it in half, take out the paper inside, give one half to Kalim and keep the other for yourself.

“Never forget to tell people how much you love them.” You read the message on the paper. “They may not know.”

“Aww. That's a really nice message.” Kalim says as he eats his half of the cookie. “I love you, (Y/N)!” He tells you smiling.

“Aw, I love you too, Kalim.” That's what you felt was the best response back.

He said it so naturally that it seemed like something he would say to any friend, like Jamil for example. So you kind of responded the same way, even though you may really meant it.

You and Kalim went to the kitchen to prepare hot chocolates. Kalim looked like a child with a new toy, he was so excited to do something like that with you. He commented that the cookies were cute, the mugs were pretty, asked how to make chocolate with that powder, read the instructions on the back of the box with you, etc.

He was very happy to see the hot chocolate made, and all that was left was to put the mini marshmallows on top. He made a heart with them and gave you the mug with a cute smile. You do the same for him and he is very happy with your gesture, but something seemed to be bothering him a little.

“Hey, (Y/N)... When you said you loved me back, did you mean it? Because I did!” He smiles at you, blushing a little. “You didn't realise that? Why not?”

You explain that since he is always very affectionate with everyone, it is difficult to realize when he is not just being nice or considering the other person just a good friend, or if it’s something more than that.

“Really?! Ow, I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to confuse you. Looks like your fortune cookie was right. Well, I need to fix that now!” He comes closer to you and holds your both hands with his warm ones, looks you in the eyes and smiles affectionately. “You are the best friend I have ever had. Every second with you makes me happier and more loved than I could ever imagine. I wish I could do the same for you, if you'd let me. I love you (Y/N).”

He's not afraid that you'll reject him. Will it hurt him? Sure, but the most important thing is that he was honest with you and you deserve to know that you're loved.

You confess that the feeling is mutual. He is so relieved and extremely happy to the point of hugging you and lifting you off the ground while doing a spin. He gives you all the kisses on the cheek he's ever wanted to give you and can't stop hugging you.

He doesn't want to go too fast so he lets you kiss him on the lips first if you're comfortable with that. And if you do, you will feel all his love and passion for you in response.

After that, you both go to the lounge and sit together on the sofa. Grim appears, attracted by the smell, and starts complaining that you didn't make him a hot chocolate too. Kalim starts to apologize but that's when you reveal a third mug of hot chocolate that Kalim hadn't even realized you had made. Grim thanks you and Kalim praises you.

While Grim burns his tongue because he tried to drink the still-scalding chocolate right away, Kalim puts one of his arms around you and starts imagining and talking about possible dates and that he should give you the best quality hot chocolate in Twisted Wonderland next time.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[mushies-stories]

Our home

Drabble -Fluff

John Price X GN!Reader

Summary: your newly moved in and John has been spending a lot of time at work, so much that you were starting to really feel neglected. John will make it better though, he has too.

Warnings: crying?

Authors note: hiiii i adore super sweet and adorable price :D thats it, this is comfort and fluffy.

John had been working later the past few weeks and you were really starting to feel abandoned. He would come home after you were already fast asleep. Though you had tried to stay up later the first week, it became evident he was not going to be coming home anytime soon. He woke so early you barely get to have a sip of coffee with him in your plush robe and messy hair before he's out the door. Leaving you with a kiss to the forehead and a little pout on your lips. 

You were growing more and more fed up with not having a moment with him, you had moved in to be closer but he's been working so much you feel like you're living alone again. You try to convince yourself you're being dramatic, that he’s a captain and he's busy. His work was important and you shouldn’t feel like he's ignoring you… he’s not leaving you behind, no, never… right? You can't help but have those thoughts, that he has already grown tired of you. 

It was when you noticed it had been nearly a month, he had stayed late every night, came home to you sleeping and left before you hardly had time to wake up. The whole day you couldn't help the moping. You shuffled around the house on your day off with nothing to do. You had no motivation to call up a friend or even go to a store. All you wanted was for John to come home early for once or even on time.

You finally got tired, watching a dumb movie on the couch and fell asleep. A blanket half haphazardly slung over your middle while you curled up into a little ball. 

Hours later John was quietly closing the door and taking his boots off when he looked over and saw you. You were asleep on the couch with the movie's home screen lighting the room.

He smiles softly when he crouches in front of you, a hand coming up to stroke your hair. “Love.” he says softly, making you stir in your sleep. “C’mon love, lets get ya ta bed, eh?” his thumb strokes your cheek gently.

You shake your head a little and swat his hand away. “D’wanna.” is all you mumble. 

John cocks a brow at you. “Why not, what's wrong with our bed lovie?” he asks, his fingers continuing to try and soothe you awake.

You nuzzle into the couch a little. “To empty.” your voice is quiet, justice above a whisper. 

Confused John shakes his head before sliding his arms under you then lifting you to his chest. You let out a squeaky yelp and cling to his shirt. He takes you to the bedroom while you try and blink your eyes awake. “What ya talkin’bout? Cause yer pretty self ain't in it, that's why.” he retorts and sets you down on the bed. 

You can't help the tears that immediately form in your eyes when you look up at him. He didn't get it…”No that’s… it’s empty because of-” you hesitate a moment, a tear rolling down your cheek and look down at your lap, avoiding John's eyes.

He doesn't like that. Slowly long fingers are tilting your chin up so your eyes are locked with his. “What is it love, what's wrong?” he asks, voice smooth and calming. He didn’t understand why you were so sad all of a sudden but he didn’t like it.

You blink a few tears away which he swiped at with the pad of his thumb. You let out a shaky breath. “You… it's so empty and you aren't here John.” you finally confess. Your tears fall uncontrollably now and you can’t help the little hiccup that escapes you. You hadn’t even realized you had been this affected until you couldn't stop crying. 

John hates seeing you this way, he never liked when you cried and the fact that he caused it? No he couldn’t have this. You were his world, how could he sit here and watch you suffer because of him.

“Love, I'm sorry, ya know I don't mean to be gone so much.” he sank to one knee in front of you and placed his hands on your thighs, looking up at you. “I love ya so much doll, ya know i do, don't ya?” he asks, eyes focused on your blurry ones. 

You nod a little. “I know…” You tell him, voice hushed and shaky.

He mirrors your small nod with a little smile. “Sometimes i need a little remindin is all. Need you to tell me to slow down sometimes because my work has always taken everything over.” he lets out a short breath. “But i need ya too love, i think about you all day. Been trying to finish up this last bit of preparation and paperwork before this next mission. I'll be gone for a while and i just want to spend as much time with ya before i go.” he explained, the exhaustion and stress written clear across his face.

The way John looked at you, so much care and concern, you knew he didn’t mean to make you feel this way. You smile a little and bring a hand up to his jaw, caressing the softness of his beard. “I'm sorry, I just started to really miss you.” you admit. “i know you work hard, i don't want to add any more stress an-”

“Dove, please dont say stuff like that.” John cuts you off before your head can spiral too fast. “Ya’ve done nothin wrong. Ya need to tell me these things, tell me when yer hurting so i can help. I need ya to be okay above all else, got that?”

Your smile widens a little. “I will, I promise.” you say and lean in to press your soft lips to his, giving him a gentle kiss. “I love you John.” you tell him when you pull back to look into his eyes again. “I don't know what I'd do without you.” 

With his hands now traveling along your thighs, John smirks up at you. “Probably better off.” he jokes, a little. 

You swat at his shoulder and shake your head. “Don't say that.” you scold with a half-hearted scowl. “You're good for me John, you can't tell me otherwise.” you say adamantly. 

He smiles at you, big and genuine. “Well, how’sbout this, tomorrow i'll go to the barracks, delegate a little and come home early?” John offers, his hands now kneading your plush thighs. His calloused fingers

Your eyes light up. “Really?” 

He nods. “Really, the boys can handle it for one day.” He says.

You wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle a little into his neck. “I'd really like that.” you say, voice going shaky again. Your tears were from joy and relief however. John was so kind and he listened to you, never blamed you and treated you so wonderfully. You were glad you were here with him, in his home and his life. 

John welcomed your embrace by wrapping his own arms around your back, pulling you into his lap on the ground. You giggled when he peppered the side of your head with kisses. “So, what do you want to do tomorrow, whatever you want, love.” 

You think for a moment but only one thought comes to mind. “I want to stay here, at home. I want to spend that day relaxing and enjoying some peaceful time together… maybe we could make dinner together too?” you offer, pulling back enough to look up at him a little. 

“That sounds wonderful love.” He agrees and kisses the top of your head.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough you thought.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Love Quinn + an overgrown garden from the prompt list please

ofc!! thanks for the request for love btw <3

original prompt list can be found here for those who are curious

Grown With Love (Love Quinn x gn reader)

Warnings: very brief mention of murder but fluff other than that <3

The romance between you and Love, your newly-wed wife, seemed to happen in a whirlwind. It wasn't even six months after you'd met that you'd proposed to her, and naturally she'd agreed to it right away. You bought a house together not long after, one on the cheaper side that you could do some renovations on. She had very specific ideas for how she wanted the layout to be, which you of course gave her complete control over.

Where you lived didn't matter much as long as you got to be there with her, and besides, happy wife, happy life. You'd do anything to make her happy, that much was certain.

Plus, it wasn't as if you had to pay for it. She had her parents money to do that, so she could redesign the house however she envisioned it the be. If she wanted to gut the entirety of the kitchen and rework it to be on the other side of the first floor, who were you to stop her? The world was her oyster when it came to your new place, and that carried into the land it sat on, which included the backyard.

She told you she was planning on having a garden where she could grow all of her own fruits and vegetables, not wanting to rely on overly-priced produce from factories that pumped them full of chemicals from the grocery stores in the neighborhood. There were always local markets, but she wanted to try growing food herself for a change. You were never one for gardening, but if that's what she wanted then you were certainly more than happy to help.

(While it was true that she did want a garden, she also needed a fresh patch of land that wouldn't look suspicious for her to be digging up in case a body had to be buried somewhere. Not that she'd ever tell you about her little hobby, as it was her opinion that you didn't need to know.)

"Honey, can you come bring the wheelbarrow over here to me?" Love asked while pointing with a glove-clad hand in the direction of where the wheelbarrow sat on the other side of the yard. She was on her hands and knees trying to get rid of all the weeds and other plants that she was certain would try to choke out the life of her vegetable garden before it even got started.

"Sure thing, sweetheart." You didn't have much of a set job when it came to redoing the house and backyard. It seemed as though you were there for moral support more than anything else, but that didn't mean you weren't happy and eager to help out your wife whenever you could.

She beamed with pride when she saw you bring it over to her, immediately beginning to dump the weeds that were already dug up into it so they could be disposed of later. "Thanks, honey."

You beamed in response before speaking again. "I'm gonna go grab the lemonade you made earlier and bring it outside for you."

The smile on her face seemed to grow wider at that. You always knew exactly what she needed, and when. "You do that, sweetheart. I'll be out here."

While she continued messing with the garden, you went inside the house, making sure to watch out for the several building supplies the workers had left behind as you grabbed the pitcher of lemonade from the kitchen along with two glasses. You quickly returned outside and filled them up before carrying one of the glasses over to your wife. "Here you go, honey."

She removed her gloves and took the full glass from you as she thought about you looked adorable doing things for her. You were always so eager to please. "Thank you, baby. Why don't you come sit with me? I was just about to take a break anyway."

You immediately nodded your head at the suggestion, rushing to grab your own glass before returning back over to sit down beside her. The garden still needed a lot of work done on it, but it wasn't looking too bad so far.

"What do you want to plant?" Love asked you after a moment or so, watching as you gulped away at her fresh, homemade lemonade while she spoke. "I was thinking some tomatoes, maybe some corn and watermelons if we have the space for it."

"Whatever you want to plant is fine by me. I'll be happy regardless," you replied brightly before leaning over and pressing a kiss to her face. "They'll be grown with love no matter what they are."

"Oh, my God, you and your stupid puns," she said with feigned exasperation, rolling her eyes playfully at your words. "You're right, though. They'll be grown with love, indeed. The love between the two of us," she added in a playful manner.

You giggled at her addition before nudging her side with your elbow. "You're such a sap."

"Mm, only for you." She moved in closer and gave you a passionate and loving kiss, the lemonade soon left forgotten as you got swept up in the feelings you shared for each other, your wedding bands glistening in the sunlight. Everything would be done with love as long as you and her were together.

End notes: Love's so sweet when she's not murdering people

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[strugglingfloralclerk]

Socioeconmic Opposites| Headcannons| Todoroki Shoto x Reader|

While I love the usual dating headcannons when it comes to our resident rich boy,  there is just so much uncharted territory for Todoroki Shoto dating someone who identifies as ✨️poor af✨️. Especially if reader isn't impressed with his wealth-that would give Shoto alot room to grow emotionally, romantically, and personally.

Again, thank you to those who read my little fics.

💴💴💴💴💴💴💴💴💴💴💴💴💴💴💴💴

💰Shoto doesn't understand why you have cash stuffed in an old coffee can he found in your room. However, Shoto does have a frequent habit of slipping a 50 dollar note in without you knowing. He always places the coffee can back exactly how he found it, and will never admit to anybody he contributes to your secret-coffee-can-bank.

🪙 Sometimes when you and Shoto go on coffee dates and there is a very cat- ate-the-canary expression on his face when he "allows" you to pay. If you ask him what's got him smiling like that, he'll only shake his head at you: "This tea is extra delicious today."

He'll leave out that the cash you used to pay for the drinks came out of his wallet. Besides, the tea does somehow taste better this way. He likes the idea of you treating him, so it's a win-win.

💰Shoto never paid attention to price tags anywhere, let alone the grocery store until he started to shop with you. He's used to everything being a brand name and not a generic alternative. In fact, he would insist that the generic brands aren't good enough for ✨️you✨️even if they are only groceries. It was sweet at first. Until you inform him how condescending that got after the umpteenth time.

🪙Since then you make it a habit to take Shoto to different sample booths in stores during grocery runs, and to his surprise, he prefers the generic brand teas, rice crackers, and instant ramen.

"Does it taste better because it costs less?" Shoto is sure that must be it.

Now, he is a pro at spotting deals in the produce aisle. Once Shoto and you step into your Pro-Hero careers, the public is pleasantly surprised to see Shoto in such a normal setting and so fluent in deals and savings.  This unknown relatability helps with his ranking on the hero charts. Shoto will always credit you for instilling that in him, therefore, boosting your ranking as well.

💰He absolutely respects and admire your work ethic and is always proud when you win. Sometimes it tires him out how hard you work and push yourself. Yet no matter how hard you've trained, you always wipe the sweat off your brow and smile freely at him. It always makes his heart melt. Shoto will think of your resiliency whenever he needs motivation to keep up with/push past Bakugo and Midoriya. (Which Bakugo takes as a personal insult. How dare you motivate that icy-hot bastard to be stronger than him?)

🪙Todoroki Shoto will absolutely spoil you when he can, if he can. There is a very fine line with you when it comes to gifts.You once told him, "Don't buy me with Endeavor's money. I don't want it."

You're not materialistic either, so it can be hard for him to find the perfect book, necklace, or perfume bottle.  Shoto's smart-he can adapt and learn quickly.

💰So rather than material offerings Shoto will go on walks with you, pick flowers with you and turn them into crowns. Shoto knows your favorite dish and he knows 3 different ways to prepare it thanks to your mom, auntie, and grandma. Shoto is more likely to gift you with vacations as the relationship matures.  As time goes on, the money in his account truly becomes Shoto's  with every late night shift, with every civillian saved, and every villain captured.

He always pitches his vacation ideas the same way just with different locations everytime he asks. "You've been working too hard again. I think we need a break. Do you want to go to Okinawa or Fiji?"

(PS-Todoroki Shoto will be the type of guy who believes the money in the bank is truly 'our' money once he becomes your husband. He will never withhold a single dime from you. Shoto may not always know the right things to say or do but he will damn sure provide for you once you're his partner.)

💰When Shoto comes by your old neighborhood  for the first time because you're housesitting for family-you're nervous. You pray to any entity willing to listen, that this isn't what kills the relationship. Worst of all, you hope Shoto doesn't pity you when he sees where you come from.

🪙For Shoto, he feels honored to be invited to your childhood home. He wants more than anything to understand you better. He wants to know your roots because he knows how it shapes a person.

Shoto adores what a considerate and welcoming host you are.

"I know it's not much but please make yourself comfortable."

Shoto pulls you in close and whispers against the shell of your ear, "As long as you're here, I'm comfortable."

💰Shoto, who at the end of the day, doesn't care about your family name or your income bracket. He's just happy to love and cherish you because he simply wouldn't know what a rich and full life would be for him without you in it.

[bloody-cupcakes]

Blair Waldorf x perv! reader; she finds out you stole her underwear and decides to punish you for it

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, nsfw/smut, perv! reader, panty stealing, degrading, dom/sub dynamics (dom Blair/sub reader), bondage via handcuffs, sex toys/penetration using a vibrator (reader receiving, they're obviously gn so it isn't specified whether it's vaginal or anal), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, the reader gets gagged using a pair of Blair's panties, aftercare (more implied than anything else)

A/N: some bits in this was inspired by this Blair fic by the talented and fabulous @sparklingbutterflies <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're pathetic, do you hear me? Pathetic and disgusting."

Blair's harsh words swarmed around you like angry hornets that came from a knocked over nest as they entered your ears before finally landing themselves deep down in the crevices of your heart. It was hard not to take her criticism personally when you loved her so.

"I- I didn't mean to steal your underwear, I'm sorry-"

Obviously that was a lie. You knew exactly what you were doing when you asked a drunk Serena to take an equally drunk you over to Blair's house so you could rummage around in her panty drawer. What you didn't expect was for her to actually remember what happened and snitch on you.

She scoffed loudly while crossing her arms over her chest. "Pathetic," she reiterated just to put more emphasis on her point before asking, "What, you can't find a girl who actually likes you to borrow panties from, so you decided to take mine?"

"I'm sorry," you loudly sobbed as tears filled up your eyes, making you look pitiful. "I'm so, so sorry, Blair, please, please don't hate me-"

She was quiet for a moment as she watched you, almost as if she was trying to decide what her next move should be. "I should," she stated bluntly, those two little words only assisting in making you cry even harder. "But... I suppose I can forgive you." She sighed, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Really?" Your voice was shaky when you spoke, and it was clear you were in disbelieved shock. Out of everything you'd expected her to say, that was certainly not it.

"For a price, of course," she added with a sly grin, the one she always got to let other people know she was up to no good.

That's how you found yourself laying back on her bed with your legs spread and your hands restrained using a pair of the cheap handcuffs you could get from any kind of sleazy sex store. You didn't dare question why she had them, not wanting to get punished even worse.

"I'm going to put this-" She held up a purple vibrator while she spoke "-inside you, and I'm going to turn it on. I won't be turning it off again until I'm certain you've learned your lesson, got it?"

You obediently nodded your head in understanding, hoping the more complacent and well-behaved you were would convince her to go easy on you.

"Good. Now, stay still." She began to slowly insert the toy inside your already slick hole, and you found yourself grateful she decided to at least lube you up ahead of time.

A soft whine left you the moment she turned it on, the vibrating sensation causing your walls to flutter around the toy as it moved inside you. "Oh..." You moaned while closing your eyes.

"Well, you seem to be enjoying yourself," she sneered while turning the speed up to a higher setting. "Let's see just how long that pleasure lasts before it starts to turn into pain."

Not long ended up being the answer, your legs beginning to shake after the second orgasm you were forced to endure. "Blair," you mewled while wiggling around on the bed as if you were trying to get away from the vibrator. "It's too much-"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you want me to tell everyone about the whole panty stealing incedent?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow, taking out her phone and showing you the tip to Gossip Girl that was already typed in, just waiting to be sent in.

Your eyes widened instantly as you began shaking your head. "No! No, no, I'll be good for you, I swear I will-"

"That's what I thought." She put her phone away before moving over to where her dresser was, opening up one of the drawers and pulling out a pair of her panties. "Open. I don't want everyone to hear the pitiful little noises you're going to make," she demanded.

Opening your mouth, you allowed her to shove the balled-up panties inside. They successfully did the trick of shutting you up, which was perfect giving how she turned the vibrator's speed up to the highest one a mere second later.

Blair watched with glee as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your hands still restrained above you as a trail of drool began to slip down your mouth. You were completely expecting her to keep going despite your third orgasm, but much to your surprise (and delight) that was when she decided to stop, turning the vibrator off and pulling it out of you.

Muffled whines could be heard coming from you as she unlocked the handcuffs before finally pulling the pair of panties out of your mouth. "Next time you steal my underwear without getting my permission first, I'll personally make sure to it that your name is front and center on Gossip Girl's blog for the next week," she threatened even while carefully wiping down your dirty, cum-covered thighs with a damp rag. "Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," you muttered softly in response, far too tired to do or say much of anything else.

"Good. Now, get some rest. I'll be back in here in a little while to check on you." With that, she left, leaving you alone in the dim-lit room as you curled up in the blankets she had on her bed.

Your "punishment" was far more enjoyable than you'd expected it to be, there was certainly no denying that. It made you wonder what else you could do to push her buttons in a way that you'd benefit from.

[whochromatic]

I want to buy the Ghost Story Working Characters' lost body parts.

If there was a way to buy everyone's body parts, I wouldn't hesitate to put them in my cart and keep them on display. I want to have everyone's lost body parts. The hand, the eye, the legs, the arm, the mind, the mind, the mind. I wish to keep the parts that my favorites have lost. It doesn't matter which one. I want to take them and replace my parts with theirs. I would rather pay for them than just take them. I want to give what's worth of each and every one of them, but I doubt I could match it even if I were to offer every centimeter of what makes up of me. But either way, I want to keep it all. Please give me their body parts. I want to hold them, stare at them, and put them on me. No amount words can express how much I desire them. Why is this one of the only few mediums that can be used for expression? This world setting is so inefficient. But what can I do? What can I do.

Where can I find the entrance to Death Lane? The section with everyday goods? Surely they have Baek Saheon's eye there, right? I want it. It would be nice to have it, but I'm afraid that I may crush it. If I eat it, I won't be able to see it again. Then, if I take out my left eye, I can put his inside of my socket.

Where can I find Eun Haje hand? Surely the teachers didn't just discard it, yes? How wasteful it would be if they did. They'd have no sense of value at all! How could they just leave the decapitated heads and bodies without storing them somewhere safe?? It would be great if they did. I want to hold Eun Haje's cut off hand. The lines on the palm, the length and width of the fingers, the texture of the skin, the state of the nails..

Kim Soleum's, too. I want his arm. It's so dissapointing that his arm was cooked and dissapeared. Did anyone even get to eat it? Honestly, I would prefer it raw. But even if I were to encounter it in it's cooked state, I would be very pleased. No, how could I say just "very pleased"? Do you know why you beg for even a real glimpse of their parts? It's because you can't. It would take more than a miracle to fulfill your delusions. Yes, I would like to have a taste of it. Kim Soleum who diligently grilled and prepared the meat by himself, from himself... it's everything. I have replayed in my head hundreds of times a feast with his arm in my hands. Every slice ends up in my stomach. God can take any of my remaining internal organs but my stomach.

But as much as I'd love to digest Kim Soleum's arm raw, I'd rather keep it and do as much as I can with it without damaging it. Did I already say that? But how could I bear to damage a holy relic such as it? If possible, I would like to use it in my rituals and worship it and bow and pray to it, and, oh, no, no, yeah. I wish to wear his right arm on my body, but it would be too presumptuous, wouldn't it? It's such a shame that I am nothing more than dust in the face of God. Ah, but my worldly desires... no, this is why should cleanse myself of sins and the thought of committing more offenses. But I truly want it on me. What should I do? Insolent.

Even the parts that will be lost in the future. I would like to buy them. I wonder how much it would cost if I were to genuinely buy them. Would it be priced the same way body parts are usually priced? I'm sure there would be some twists. I'm worried that I wouldn't be able to afford them if it happened... it's so sad. I am crying. Do you see the tears rolling off my cheeks? I don't think you can. Me neither. But even as a piece of text, I mourn the inability to purchase such precious goods. Why must our plane of realities be so distant? I thought it would be possible since I too....me too...

How many more tears must I shed for my desire to be fulfilled? Would they all serve as proper payment for their body parts? I wish not to personally dissect my favorites(oh, but I do. I do.) and aqcuire those that they have lost along the way. After all, wouldn't it be more credible if I did? Not taken by the hands of a parasitic intruder, but by natural flavorings dyed from the story personally crafted by the esteemed creator. I want it. It's so dissapointing. Please let me have them. I will buy them. Take my body and life, but return, give me even a single one. Please? Just one. No, I would to have as much as possible. I beg. This, nature,,, nature.... their boddd yyPPPPPPPPPP

I'm sorry.

[sgtcosmo]

under the weather - 141 headcanons

cw: none, just pure (established relationship) fluff <3 only pronoun used for reader is 'you'

a/n: i'm sick as shit rn and i've been laying in bed all day thinking about how the 141 would care for gn!reader while they're sick, so this is a lil bit self-indulgent hehe!! also, thank you for the love on my first drabble that i posted a couple days ago, it makes me so happy :') enjoy these!

gaz:

-he's an absolute sweetheart all the time already, but when you're sick? oh my god

-checking in on you every 10 minutes, even if it annoys you. he has to know that you're doing okay!!

-i hc him as being a great cook, so he definitely makes you some good ass homemade soups

-THIS ONE MADE MY HEART MELT WHEN I THOUGHT ABOUT IT but he would absolutely read to you. it'd either be wherever he left off in the most recent book he's reading on his own, or he'd grab one of your favourites from the shelf and start from the beginning

-lets you use his lap as a pillow while he reads to you, holding the book with one hand and playing with your hair with the other

-rubs your back soothingly when you're having one of those god awful coughing fits

-when he goes to the store to get you medicine and such, he'll facetime you the whole time. he'll show you the medicine and snacks/drinks at the store and let you pick which ones you want (he also wants to make sure that you're alright while he's gone <3)

-gives you his warmest and nicest sweaters to wear, doesn't care if they get dirty

ghost:

-runs you a bath and lets you soak in the warm water while he washes your hair

-will absolutely make you a hot cup of tea with honey to soothe your sore throat

-canned soup kinda guy. he'd still try his best to make it as appetizing as possible though, adding in extra bits that he knows you like

-you're not lifting a finger once he finds out you're sick. your household chores? they're his now. those errands you were supposed to run today? oops, he's already got his shoes on and keys in hand

-will not let you out of his sight. always keeps a watchful eye on you, no matter what. he took over your duty of washing the dishes? he's bundling you up in 10 blankets on the couch in the living room so he can turn around every 30 seconds and silently check on you

-would probably set reminders on his phone so you take your medicine exactly when you're supposed to, even if it's 3 am. he's up and fetching everything you need before you can even complain about the reminder going off and waking you up

-picks you up and carries you around the house so you don't have to walk

soap:

-still cuddles and kisses you, despite your attempts to push him away to prevent him from also getting sick. he doesn't give a shit

-plays video games with you, or watches you play. i feel like he'd be a try-hard at games and wouldn't take losing lightly, but he'd let you win just because you're sick. if you call him out for it, then he'd probably just make some half-assed excuse and say he must be having an 'off day'

-i feel like he's a canned soup-er, like ghost. will make a bowl for himself as well though so he can eat it with you

-pillow fort? pillow fort. makes a huge one in the living room with a big nest of blankets in it for you both to cuddle in. he even makes a little window through the pillows so you can see the tv and watch your favourite movies

-will order your favourite take-out for you once you feel well enough to eat something other than soup

-would make you laugh so much that it sends you into coughing fits (laughter is the best medicine, after all ;))

price:

-much like ghost, he'd keep a very watchful eye on you and check in on you often

-definitely a homemade soup guy. if there's a specific canned soup that you want, he'll make it exactly how it is, but better

-cuddles with you under a pile of blankets as you watch shitty rom-coms together

-lets you lay on him while you sleep, even if it's for hours at a time. he'd keep his arms wrapped securely around you and kiss the top of your head occasionally

-is willing to do anything and everything you need in order to get you back to good health as quickly as possible. just say the word and he's got it

-would buy medicine in every flavour it comes in just so you can try them all and see what one tastes best so taking it isn't such a miserable experience (i feel like soap would probably do this too? but he'd treat it more as a fun taste test ranking kind of thing)

-will go on short walks outside with you in hopes that the fresh air will make you feel better. he's bundling you up like nobody's business if it's cold outside, though

[getvalentined]

The Big Patreon Breakdown

Okay, Patreon's Discord Q&A ended on the 16th, and I've been waiting to see if anything else happened—like maybe a a public announcement from Patreon instead of emails sent exclusively to creators and a video hidden on the CEO's personal YT page—but nothing has happened, so I'm gonna do a breakdown of what we're looking at.

This is an EXTREMELY long post. I am not putting it behind a cut. I'm not sorry.

Short attention span version here.

—

I. The iOS processing fees are a smokescreen covering up the actual devastating changes that Patreon is forcing creators into.

The iOS fees are trash, 30 percent is extortion and we all know it—but that's not the biggest issue at hand here. Patreon is using this event as an excuse to change the entire structure of the creator side of their platform, and blaming Apple to avoid getting backlash.

They tripled their platform and processing fees in 2017, passing it on to patrons without notice, and the subsequent hemorrhage of paying users forced them to walk it back. They tried to force everyone onto their rolling billing model in 2021, and the entire community pushed back so hard they were forced again to walk it back.

This time, they're doing both and insisting it's Apple's fault, and everyone is taking that at face value because Apple sucks. And Apple does suck, but Patreon is getting what they've wanted for years by catering to Apple.

Oh, also, they're forcing creators to notify their patrons of the billing model changes (with a suggested template that explicitly refers to it as a decision made by the creator, even though nobody is making any decisions here except Jack Conte) rather than doing it themselves.

II. Patreon is not going to change course for any reason. This is set in stone.

There are multiple proofs for this, including but not limited to:

One-on-one calls between the platform's top earners and the CEO, Jack Conte, wherein the vibe was apparently not "What can we do to support your business in order to retain your place on our platform?" but rather "We know that the only way this works is if we don't do it, but how can we keep you from complaining about it any more than you already have?" One creator explained in granular detail how they run their business through this platform and why changing their billing model would ruin literally everything, and Conte responded with "Is this an essential part of your offering?"

The Patreon Team on Discord has continued to shut down all discussion of alternative options with assertions that Apple won't allow it, even if those alternatives were suggested based on legal precedent set by lawsuits against Apple, and the declaration that they will not be allowing the app to be removed from the App Store no matter what because it's the single most important and integral avenue of creator growth on the platform. (Put a pin in that.)

The platform's top earner is on the pay-per-creation billing model, the one that is going to be hit the hardest; creators on this model stand to lose literally 90 percent of their income overnight. This creator and his team were as blindsided as the rest of us, and they've been offered no assistance except for a complex math equation to try to calculate how much they should be charging people on fixed-price tiers, and no assurance except "the iOS app is the platform's highest source of engagement and is necessary to help you continue to grow."

Pay-upfront (PUF) and pay-per-creation (PPC) billing is going away for new accounts and anyone who doesn't opt out via Patreon's convoluted backend before November 1 of this year, and anyone who doesn't manually switch over to their rolling billing cycle will be automatically pushed into it on November 1, 2025. This means that PUF creators no longer have the promise of a steady paycheck when they need it, early enough in the month to pay rent and bills, while PPC creators are losing their entire business model all at once, which has resulted in a loss of 75 to 90 percent of income for multiple PPC creators who have tried to switch to the rolling billing structure in the past. They are killing these people's livelihoods and they know it, they have seen the data to prove it, but they will not be swayed.

III. Patreon claims the iOS app is the highest source of engagement on the platform at 40 percent—but will not define what "engagement" means, and staff refuse to share detailed analytics or data on the revenue share coming from the app.

Several creators, some with a couple dozen patrons and some with thousands, polled their audience to get a feel for how many of them used the app. Consistently across every creative industry, genre, and form of media, the answer was 2 percent or less. The average across a dozen-plus polls of actual active patrons, numbering into the thousands, is that around 85 percent of patrons access the platform exclusively via the web, whether on desktop or mobile. The majority didn't even know there was an app.

Further, Patreon would not explain what "engagement" means, but did not deny the possibility that dismissing an app notification on your phone counts as an "engagement."

When Patreon was asked for data on how often people pledged to support a creator via the iOS app, the only response was the claim that information is "sensitive to [Patreon's] business" and can't be shared. In a creator-exclusive server. With the people who bring that revenue onto the platform in the first place. And have our own analytics that we can look at individually, which show an average of 0 to 0.5 percent revenue from the iOS app.

IV. Patreon does not have a refund policy in place to work with Apple, and has given no implications of intention to work with Apple to shorten the time it takes for funds from iOS purchases to be paid out to creators, which is currently 75 days.

Yes, you read that correctly: at the moment, it takes 75 days before creators can cash out funds processed via iOS. On top of that, Apple's refund policy is 60 days, and the creator is not involved in the process whatsoever—if a malicious actor pledges to your page, downloads all your work over the course of a month, and then pings Apple for a refund? Apple gets to decide whether or not they get that refund.

Patreon's general refund policy is that it's up to the creator 99.9 percent of the time, with very rare cases of fraud requiring Patreon's intervention. In the case of pledges and Commerce sales via iOS, the creator has no say, and Patreon currently has no policy to protect them. They've stated that they're working on a refund policy that will work with Apple's guidelines to keep everyone happy, but at this point we all know what that means—they're just going to use Apple's refund policy.

They also wouldn't say whether or not creators would be on the hook for Apple's added processing fees, as is usually the case with other big payment processors, but it sounds like we are! So if someone pays $14.50 on the iOS app, the creator gets $10, can't pay it out, and then the malicious actor can call for a refund weeks later and the creator will owe $14.50—in spite of only ever having seen $10 and never being able to pay it out because the 75 hold hadn't passed. Sounds great!

V. Patreon's own graphics meant to explain why this is necessary and how the new fees work are not correct.

I'm gonna let these mostly speak for themselves:

The sale price listed on this graphic is $10, but adding together the three fees listed gives a total of $11.35. This is likely a copying error, as 4.35 is clearly not 30% of 10, but the lack of attention to detail on one of the only two pieces of official material that we have which refer directly to the numbers on which Patreon is signing away our livelihoods is slightly concerning.

This one totals up to 103 percent! (Actually closer to 104, since I rounded Android and Mobile down by about a quarter percent each.) The 40 percent figure on the iOS bar is based on the figure given to us by Patreon staff, and was used to place the markers to denote individual percentages on the other three.

Patreon made these and gave them to us with the assertion that they were proof that the iOS app is indispensable—why should we trust anything they say about numbers if the charts they gave us are literally impossible?

VI. Patreon refuses to offer any promises to 18+ creators that they will not be removed from the app in order to adhere to Apple's content guidelines.

Instead, Patreon staff's response to this request for reassurance is "We have no plans to remove 18+ creators from the Patreon app." You may note that's phrased very specifically, and leaves a hole big enough to drive a freight train full of iPhones straight through. They have no plans to remove 18+ creators from the app. When asked for clarification on this, confirmation that they would not be removing us from the platform if Apple pushed them to do so regardless of whether or not they have plans, this sentiment was simply repeated in more words and with more apologies, along with a reminder that Patreon has had to change their terms for 18+ creators several times already in order to keep up with laws and competition.

VII. All the features Patreon is insisting are integral for creator growth are inaccessible to 18+ creators, and questions about this were either dismissed, redirected, or ignored.

Remember how the iOS app is the single most important and integral avenue for character growth on the platform? Well, 18+ creators are not discoverable on the platform, regardless of the avenue of access. We are not visible on the app unless you have it installed, are logged in, are already following us on the platform, and click an external link to be directed to our pages from somewhere else via a mobile web browser. There is no way to find us on the platform itself.

Other features that staff insist are necessary for growth to which 18+ creators do not have access:

Patreon creator search (on web, Android and iOS apps)

Mass post editing (now called the "Library," which reads as "Something Went Wrong" for me and other 18+ creators who tried to get to it)

On-platform video hosting

Built-in cross-creator recommendations

All on-platform "commerce" features (both digital and physical goods)

The ability to market ourselves by linking to Patreon from our social media and vice-versa (we're basically not allowed to do this or risk being banned)

Yeah, about that first and that last point. We're hidden from searches on the platform, and we can't link to our pages from social media or risk permanent suspension. We cannot grow in this fashion at all, and in fact 18+ creators are getting all the downsides of this switch (except maybe for the app fee, since you can't fucking find us to pledge on the app) with none of the benefits. Nothing they are doing here will help us grow, because they've kneecapped us already. Now they're going after our capacity to obtain a steady paycheck at the beginning of the month, too.

VIII. Patreon's iOS app is currently (as of August 18, 2024) in violation of Apple's guidelines for app ratings; staff did not state any intention to become compliant by raising the app's rating as needed to maintain their 18+ creator community.

The App Store guidelines on creator apps state that they must be rated equal to the highest rated creator content on their platform. In spite of hosting 18+ content, which requires a 17+ rating per Apple, Patreon is rated 12+ in the App Store. Increasing the rating to 17+ would cut out the entire market of wealthy teenagers with iPhones, and since everything else being done here is intended to please Apple, it's unlikely this will be the point that Patreon finally gives an inch for its creators. The exact response from staff on this was "We hear and acknowledge your inputs on the app rating and are exploring our options there." Their "options" on this are to increase the rating, or to remove all 18+ content from the platform. That's it. Those are their options. Why do those need exploring, if they really give a shit about the 18+ community?

I know a lot of people out there are going to say that it would be nice if Patreon would "get rid of the porn," but you need to understand something: 18+ content is not all sexual.

18+ content can and does also include:

Horror (particularly body horror, which is explicitly or implicitly banned on all current adult-specific creator platforms, leaving me nowhere to go when Patreon kicks me)

True crime (murder, violence, theft, etc., is all 18+)

Health (blood/discussion of blood is 18+ regardless of context)

Education (what if you learn about war? that's 18+)

Trauma recovery (the word "r#pe" makes everything around it 18+)

Profanity (ko-fi marks creators 18+ for saying "fuck")

Languages (because you might learn profanity)

Weaponsmithing (because weapons are dangerous)

Leatherworking (because leather can be a fetish)

Shoemaking (feet can also be a fetish)

...even more I'm not bothering to list here.

Implying that they somehow didn't know about this extremely important part of the guidelines—which are being used as an excuse to force the top earner on the platform to ruin his entire business model—is absolute nonsense. Patreon knows about this requirement, they haven't taken any steps to comply based on their current creator population, and I will be shocked if they do. Much easier to just kick us all off, since we can barely use the damn platform as it is.

—

The entire thing makes no sense. Patreon is losing out on so much money by doing this—they're crippling all their highest-earning creators to keep the iOS app running, and it's going to hurt everyone except for Apple. The only reason I can think that they would refuse to budge on this is that there's something else going on behind the scenes between Patreon and Apple. That, or the company is intentionally throwing itself into an extremely drawn out death spiral. But we all know which of those is the more likely scenario here.

[jaysgirlx]

Ok so I've noticed you don't have much of dick grayson writing on here!!! USUALLY i go to @kazzattack for dick grayson and you for jason but now that your requests are open, I'm craving a mall trip blurb with dick grayson pls 🙏☺️

you're so right anon but dw bc i have dick grayson waiting to be released in my drafts!! i just don't know how I feel about them rn. anywhooo dick obviously loves mall trips and not so he can shop, no no it's so he can spoil you.

dick loves watching you get so excited over something and plan to buy it at a later time when you can save for it. but he loves seeing how happy you are when he buys it for you even more.

here you are at this huge mall down in blüdhaven, with dick strolling behind you. he watched where your eyes would go, scouting out what the stores had. sure gotham had malls but dick wanted to take you somewhere new. plus he believed that if he were settled down with you anywhere it would be here. it was just like gotham but it wasn't and that gave him the sense of security and relief. that maybe you'd be safe there, with him.

you're still searching until you find this beautiful jewelry store, filled with gold & diamond jewelry. just from the size of the store, you knew they were the real deal. still, you couldn't afford even one item from here, not yet at least. it didn't hurt to look around though.

dick leans against the wall, watching you search all over the store. he expected you to show interest in something but he seemed to back away from everything once you saw the price tags.

there was one set of earrings that he knew would look gorgeous on you but when he saw you putting them back in the rack he gently put his arms around your waist, "why are you putting those back already love? you haven't even tried them on"

"dick these earings cost like-"

"i don't remember asking the cost sweetheart, if you like them we'll buy them"

dick told them out of your hands and placed it in the basket he had been holding, you hadn't even noticed him pick one up. he places his head on your shoulder, her face burying himself in the crook of your neck "now let's go get you one of those bracelets next"

[voraciousvore]

Heey there! Can I ask for a Martin and Candy short story? In the pov of Martin

Miss those two I love them

Of course!

Plot: Martin reveals to Candy his traumatic past and finally comes to terms with it. The events referenced are from The Origins of Martin Maneater.

Word Count: 3.8k (sorry, I know it's long, hopefully it's good, I didn't reread it beginning to end because I'm tired, but I don't want to wait to post)

CW: Soft fatal unwilling vore, trauma, blood/violence

------ Confronting the Past ------

Candy adored shopping. She’d been scraping by on crumbs and secondhand clothes for what felt like an eternity, so to finally have discretionary income was an inordinate luxury. She had fun trying on colorful frilly dresses, fancy shoes, ruffled skirts, and silky blouses. She perused the novelty knick-knacks and tchotchkes with amusement, imagining how they would look next to her giant boyfriend’s model cars. 

Martin, for his part, loved to see Candy happy. The way her eyes sparkled as she skipped through the shelves swelled his heart with delight. She looked absolutely precious in all the outfits she modeled for him, like a perfect little doll. She lit up under the influence of his praise like a beam of sunshine. She was the light of his life, and he’d do anything to keep that smile on her face. 

He took her regularly to Quentin’s Collectibles, a hobby store that sold all sorts of human products scaled to Candy’s size. He lavished gifts on his sweet miniature girlfriend, providing her with cute little sets of furniture, silverware, clothes, and whatever else she wanted. She didn’t cost much, since everything was toy-sized. He liked to spoil her, especially with how grateful she was for the smallest, most trivial little things. Candy wasn’t a materialistic girl by any means, but she deeply cherished every indication of affection that Martin had to give. 

There was one section of the store that Martin hated, however: the dollhouses. They were amazing handmade works of art, ornately crafted and oftentimes furnished with functional appliances. Every time he saw them, his forehead would bead with sweat, his heart would palpitate like he was ill, and his fists would clench defensively. His traumatic past drained him like a hungry leech, regardless of how much he tried to buck it off. 

“Martin, sweetie, can you take me over to the dollhouses?” Candy piped up from her perch alongside the plastic dolls, most of which still dwarfed her in size. 

Martin stiffened, his heart dropping into his gut like a stone. “Um…” He swallowed, though his mouth was dry as cotton. “Let’s not. Those are a bit out of our price range anyways.” 

“Oh, no, I just want to look, silly!” Candy replied with a twirl, full of happy energy. 

“Well…” Martin stalled, fumbling for a plausible excuse. She gazed up at him with eloquent doe eyes that melted him into a warm puddle of sappy love. He couldn’t possibly say no, and disappoint her for no good reason. “Alright. Hop on.” 

He cupped his hand alongside the shelf and Candy eagerly jumped into his soft palm. Martin tried to quell his rising anxiety as he thudded over to the dollhouses like his feet were encased in blocks of concrete. He reluctantly set Candy down and observed while she explored the neighborhood of replica homes. As she disappeared inside one, only to pop her head out a window on the third floor, Martin’s intestines slithered and curled in his abdomen like a nest of snakes. 

“Ooh, this one has an electric stove!” Candy called out from the interior. “And a shower!” 

“Uh huh,” Martin managed to grunt. 

“Gosh, it would be so lovely to be able to bake on my own,” she continued. “Even if my cakes would hardly be the size of your fingernail.” 

“Right.” 

“And if we had one of these, you wouldn’t have to pour me a bath in a cup. You wouldn’t have to take care of my every need.” Her voice dropped into a mournful note. “I wouldn’t be as much of a burden on you.” 

“Oh, Candy!” Martin protested. “You’re never a burden!” 

Candy stepped out of the house with an almost sheepish expression. “If you say so. I just wish… sometimes that I could be more independent. I don’t like having to rely on you all the time, when I have so little to offer you in return.” 

“No, no, Candy, you’ve got it all wrong! You know I love to dote on you!” Martin insisted. He hastily wicked his clammy palms on his trousers before scooping Candy up off the porch of the tiny house and nuzzling her with his stubbled cheek. “You give me a wealth of happiness. I love you, darling.” 

Candy hugged the bridge of his nose. “I love you too. You’re my whole world, Martin.”  

He drew his hands back to gaze upon her tenderly. She looked so small and fragile compared to his colossal palms: She could get lost in the furrows of skin like canyons. To imagine that some giant—a barbaric beast like his father, who shared his flesh and blood—wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her, to chomp her up like a grape, made him sick. 

“You’re so tiny…” he murmured softly. “You couldn’t be a burden on me if you tried.” He stroked her thigh gently with his enormous thumb, marveling that a delicate being like her could trust him so readily. “My responsibility is to protect you.” His stormy eyes grew distant with painful memory. 

Candy studied him quietly for a long moment, examining the subtle muscle movements in the topography of his facial features. “Martin? Are you okay?” 

Martin blinked. “Yeah.” He lowered his hands to chest level, cradling his diminutive lover against his sternum. “Let’s go home.” 

Candy didn’t protest. Though she didn’t press him further, Martin could tell that Candy knew something was bothering him. He’d never brought up his past to her, nor did he ever mention his parents. As far as he was concerned, they were dead to him, an unpalatable vestige of a former life he wished to cut away and discard like a cancerous tumor. 

That night, Martin dreamed of dollhouses. He was back in the store, with Candy. She ran inside one of the houses and vanished. When he opened the roof to find her, she was gone. He began to panic, searching frantically for her. She was nowhere. 

Huge rumbling footsteps rattled the houses as a foreboding shadow wreathed the landscape. All of a sudden, Martin was small, human-sized, lost among the merchandise. He yelled for Candy until his throat was stripped raw, running in the alleyways between the toy structures that now loomed over him. The dollhouses had an uncanny resemblance to real houses, complete with a maze of sidewalks and lawns strewn haphazardly in an irrational tangle. 

The thunderous footsteps waxed louder and more menacing, leaving spiderweb fractures in the foundations and stucco of the houses. The shadows stretched and deepened like black ink spilled across a page. A leviathan boot stomped down nearby, smashing one of the buildings into rubble. Martin jumped with a yelp and spun around to behold a horrific sight. 

His father, Mr. Maneater himself, leered down at him, larger than life. His black irises burned like coals in his sockets, his bright teeth glistened wolfishly, and his dark hair, usually combed down in a neat part, whipped around his face wildly. Martin froze as an icy ball of sweat traced his spine. He was helpless. 

Candy began to scream with an agonizing wail that pierced his eardrums. Martin sprinted towards the torturous sound with desperation. His father stepped over him, crushing houses and splitting the sidewalks in his wake, effortlessly outpacing his son with his powerful long legs. Martin’s own limbs pumped like pistons, but he had no chance of catching up as his lungs pleaded for air. 

The giant reached the house where Candy was screaming and tore it from the earth, lifting the entire structure high into the blackened sky. Martin lobbed threats and curses to no avail as dirt and splinters of wood rained down from above and blinded him. He stared in horror as the house was ripped open like a flimsy cardboard box; chunks of walls and furniture tumbled the ridiculous distance to the ground, where poor Martin scrambled to avoid them. 

Mr. Maneater rummaged about in the crumbling ruins of the house until his fingers grasped his desired target. With a widening grin, he pulled the squirming woman from her hiding spot. 

“Martin! Help me!” Candy squealed. Mr. Maneater licked his lips, opened his mouth wide, and dangled her teasingly over his extended tongue. 

“NO! LET HER GO!” Martin demanded. He rushed over to his father’s shoe, grabbed the cuff of his pants, and began to climb in a last-ditch effort to save her. 

His father watched him with amusement before turning to his desired prey. “Down the hatch,” he proclaimed, before dropping her inside his maw and snapping his jaws shut like a piranha. Her cries were abruptly cut off; the resulting silence felt terribly wrong. Martin filled it with his own invectives, punching the solid tower of the giant’s leg until his fist was bloody and bruised. 

“Delicious,” Mr. Maneater taunted, thrusting Candy into his cheek with his tongue and sucking on her. Martin shrieked hoarsely, incoherent with the lacerations in his throat. He heard the swallow more than he saw it: a revolting, wet, lengthy squelch, followed by a deep, satisfied sigh that sent tremors through the wall of flesh towering over him.  

He had no time to react before gargantuan fingers squeezed around him and ripped him away, raising him high in the sky. With Candy sealed away in her living tomb, he felt feeble and weak. A pair of glowing hateful coals seared into him. His father didn’t have to speak to convey his upmost contempt and disapproval, his condemnation of his son as unfit to uphold the Maneater bloodline. He flicked his worthless son away, sending him flying to his death. 

“Martin? Martin?” 

A soft, gentle, feminine voice cut through the fog of his nightmare with the crisp clarity of a sunrise. Small hands pressed into his chest, tickling his carpet of hair. He opened his eyes and a wave of relief cooled his feverish skin. She was safe. She was okay. 

“Martin, are you alright? Your heart is racing.” 

“Y-yeah, I’m okay. Just a bad dream.” He hesitated. Should he tell her? He didn’t want to frighten her. He didn’t want to dredge up his ugly past, his secret shame. But he loved Candy, and trusted her with his life. He was ready to let her in. “I… I dreamed of my father.” 

Candy perked up with interest. “Oh?” 

Martin swallowed. At least his throat no longer felt like he raked it across a cheese grater. “Candy, I need to tell you something.” 

He spilled his guts. He told her about his first time encountering a human: Emma. How she was given to him on his dinner plate, treated as nothing more than a birthday treat, nutrition to fuel a growing young giant. How he saved her instead, and kept her hidden from his parents. How she was so afraid, and small, and vulnerable, unable to hear or speak. How he tried his best to communicate with her, and make her comfortable around him. 

And the day that he used his birthday money to buy her a dollhouse. Relating the traumatic event was like extracting a porcupine quill embedded deep in his chest, the barbs resisting his pull. But he forced himself to say it out loud. How his father scolded him, beat him—and found her. And just like that, her fate was clinched permanently behind Mr. Maneater’s lips. 

By the time he finished, his gray eyes were stormy with tears. Candy listened attentively the entire time, clinging to every word. Her eyes became glassy as well. “Oh, Martin… I’m so sorry, I had no idea…” 

Martin sniffled, hugging Candy close to his heart. “It’s… hard to talk about. But now you know why I’m estranged from my family. And why I was so nervous about hurting you, when we first started dating.” 

Candy kissed him and patted his pectoral. “I understand. But I never felt I had anything to fear from you, my love.” 

Martin smiled through his sorrow, soothed by her words. “I know it’s not entirely my fault, but I still carry this guilt with me. I atone by being the kindest, gentlest giant I can be, and keeping you safe.” 

“Awwwww, babe, you excel at that! You shouldn’t feel responsible though: You did all you could to protect her. You were only a child, after all. I’m glad to know you’ve always been my sweet Martin that I know and love.” 

Martin raised Candy up to his lips and kissed her. “Thank you.” 

As painful as the retelling was, Martin felt as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, a knot of tension untied in his core. He could finally forgive himself for his failure; he was able to let go and heal. Candy was the center of his cathartic release, his guiding light, his treasure, his beloved. He felt like a proper gentleman, no longer a monstrous giant cursed with Maneater blood, while in her presence. 

He wanted Candy to have the best life she could live with him, unencumbered by her size disparity as much as possible. He decided he needed to overcome his past and get her a dollhouse, or at least the functional set-ups. While they sold individual miniature “rooms” with all the necessary hook-ups, he knew that Candy was entranced by the cute toy houses with all their little decorations and furnishings. Though she never said it explicitly, Martin inferred that she probably found comfort in having a residential space scaled to her for once, a break from living in a world of giants. And they really weren’t that expensive, when he considered how much she would use it. 

He surprised her one fine afternoon after work. He took her into Quentin’s Collectibles and let her browse the shelves for a while. He didn’t feel that same sick dread curdling his innards as much as he did before when he approached the faux houses, though some of the unpleasant aftertaste still lingered. He endured it for Candy. 

She was ecstatic when he revealed his intentions. She settled on one of the cheaper, more modest houses that she found quite charming, and Martin agreed it would make a lovely addition to their apartment. He carried it out of the store under his arm, with a shopping bag full of furniture in his other hand and Candy bobbing eagerly on his shoulder. A warmth radiated through him when she lovingly kissed his neck. 

He was careful not to knock Candy off his shoulder as he stepped through the threshold to their apartment, closing the door behind him with his foot. He hastened to move his model Bombardier Learjet 35 off the coffee table to make room for Candy’s new house. He opened it up and began arranging the fixtures to suit her preferences. His heart soared as he soaked in her enthusiasm, but a small twinge of pain strummed his heartstrings as he was reminded of little Emma. 

Nevertheless, he was glad that he had made this difficult choice. He would do better this time. He was a man, no longer a child. He was strong. He was secure. Candy loved him and trusted him with her life, and he would do everything in his power to uphold that trust.  

As he watched her frolic through the rooms of the tiny house, he heard a firm, heavy knock on the front door. He turned his head, only to see the knob twist and the door open on its own. Since his hands had been full earlier, he hadn’t bothered to lock the door behind him. 

A man stepped in with confidence, a man that he’d had no contact with for years, but one he recognized all too well. His features were unmistakable, despite the advance in years: eyes like coals, black hair neatly parted and slicked down, refined clothing concealing a sturdy build that barely restrained a feral intensity. Martin’s blood ran cold. 

His father. 

Candy peeked out a window. “Martin, who’s that?” she asked innocently. “Do you know him?” She glanced up, only to behold Martin’s face frozen with horror. Fear crept up her throat, choking her. She didn’t know what to do, when her big strong protector looked so scared. 

Mr. Maneater surveyed the apartment, his dark eyes pausing on the dollhouse. He narrowed his lids and curled his lip with obvious disdain. “So it wasn’t just a phase,” he remarked, venom lacing his tone. 

Martin couldn’t move, couldn’t respond. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, the impossible scene unfolding before him as if an infernal pit to hell had split open the carpet in his living room. Replaying in his head, over and over at a dizzying speed like a macabre film, were terrible flashbacks to that nightmarish day: his dad picking up the dollhouse; his dad holding him to the ground, beating him senseless; Emma languishing in a puddle of blood on the ground, barely alive; the poor girl squirming between his dad’s fingers; his Adam’s apple throbbing as he swallowed her. Martin feared he would vomit before he could even do anything. 

His father said something with an irritated inflection, but Martin couldn’t hear through the blaring static in his ears. His heart was pounding into his lungs with a stabbing pain. Panic electrified his nerves. Mr. Maneater scowled, clearly annoyed that Martin didn’t seem to be listening to him, and strode through the threshold into the living room. 

The threatening movement snapped Martin into action. Without thinking, reacting on pure protective instinct, he lunged forward. He couldn’t allow tragedy to strike twice. He would keep Candy away from the dangerous giant even if he had to spill his own father’s blood, or die in the attempt. His heart would not be able to bear another loss, another victim to his tainted bloodline.  

Martin was a large giant, but he’d inherited his genetics from his father, who was also very tall and broad. Where Martin was soft, his father was hard. Mr. Maneater had a keen, cruel edge to him, honed from his earlier life of hardship and grueling labor before he’d been lucky enough to land himself a cushy accounting job. He was not the type to be easily bested in a fight by a gentle giant like his son, even if caught off guard. When Martin swung with a wild fist, he dodged the blow and planted his elbow in Martin’s solar plexus. Martin collapsed to the floor with a breathless gasp and a clumsy thud. His father planted his foot between Martin’s shoulder blades, pinning him down with his weight. 

“This is how you greet me, after all these years,” Mr. Maneater complained with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “I guess I should’ve expected that.” 

“GET OUT!” Martin roared, struggling to recover the air in his lungs. He coughed thickly, pushing up against his dad’s shoe. “Don’t you dare touch her! I’LL KILL YOU!” 

“Look, I’m not here to judge you for your weird fetishes,” Mr. Maneater grumbled. “Or eat your pet human or whatever.” 

“She’s not my pet, she’s my girlfriend!” Martin protested hotly, compelled to defend Candy’s honor as much as her physical body. 

The older man rolled his eyes, clearly even more disgusted. “Whatever.” He heaved a sigh. “I came here to...” He paused, gritting his teeth. “To... reconcile.” 

“Huh?” 

“I want to be in your life again, son. I want to have a relationship with you again. I miss you. Your mother misses you. We... we still love you, despite your flaws.” 

Martin finally shoved off his father’s foot and scrambled back to his feet, dusting off his clothes. “Really,” he said incredulously. “You expect me to forgive you for what you did. Without even bothering to apologize.” 

Mr. Maneater’s gaze, so intense and hot, finally faltered. “I’m... sorry.” 

Now Martin was on the offensive. “No you’re not.” 

Mr. Maneater frowned. “Look. I can’t change the past. What do you want from me? Do you want the truth? I regret that I hurt you so deeply. I’m sorry for what I did, even if I don’t agree with your perspective. Maybe... maybe I don’t understand why you care so much about humans, but... I’m willing to move on from that, and accept your bizarre lifestyle choices. I want my son back.” 

Martin ruminated on his words, unsure how to respond. He crossed his arms. “Hmph.” 

His father raised his hands with exasperation. “Your mother and I discussed the matter. We’re willing to give up eating humans, if that’s what it takes.” 

Martin’s eyes widened with shock. “Seriously?” 

“Yes,” he confirmed resolutely. 

“I...” Martin studied his father for a long moment. His father stared back with flaming coals. “I... I need some time to think about it.” 

“Of course. Of course,” Mr. Maneater replied, slumping with relief. “Come to us when you’re ready, okay?” He glanced down at Candy, giving her an uncomfortable nod, before turning back to Martin. “Right. Uh. I’ll be on my way now.” He backed out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him.  

Martin deflated like a balloon, sitting on the floor next to the coffee table, bracing himself on the surface with his shaking hand for support. “I can’t believe this.” 

Candy came out of the house over to his hand. She stroked his knuckle to comfort him. “Martin...” 

“I can’t risk it,” he declared. “My family is savage. I can’t put you in danger. No way.” 

“Martin...” Candy repeated. “I think he really meant what he said.” Martin stared into the distance, deep in thought. Candy watched him for a minute before poking his finger to get his attention. He carefully flipped his hand over so his girlfriend could crawl into his palm, then cradled her against him protectively. Candy snuggled up to his enormous, warm body, listening to the frightened beating of his elephantine heart. 

“It’s good for you to have your family in your life,” Candy pointed out. “I wish I could have a good relationship with my parents. They rejected me and told me I wouldn’t amount to anything. I wish I could've proved them wrong. But I couldn’t do it, not on my own.” 

“Oh, Candy...” Martin massaged her gingerly with his fingers. “You’re a remarkable, strong, brave woman. If they can’t see that, it’s their problem, not yours. I’ll always be here for you. I’m your family.” 

“Yes, of course!” Candy kissed his fingers reverently. “But, you know, Martin... you don’t have to carry the burden of the world on your shoulders alone. I’m here to support you too. And by the sound of it, so are your parents.” 

Martin smiled down at her, wrapped up snugly in his palm. As always when he saw her, his heart swelled with tenderness. With the love of his life in his hand, small enough to tuck away in his pocket for moral support, he felt that everything would be okay. “Perhaps.” 

[foxsoulcourt]

An unassuming cheese-monger

It's truly amazing how much you can learn by listening and observing.

Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today Javone. Can I get you a cuppa? Why don't you look over the cheeses and pick two or three you would like to try. I'll make us a plate and we can go sit over in that quiet corner.

As I said earlier, my name is Harriet and I’ve been a cheese-monger in this shop for many years. Before you ask me your questions, let me give you some context for why I contacted your office.

I'm worried. Several of my regular customers have not been in the store in over a week. If it was just one or two of them, especially that particularly handsome one with the gorgeous suits, I wouldn't worry. We often don't see him for weeks at a time. But the others? I'm not sure I can convey to you how unusual their collective absence is, especially for this length of time.

How do you like the Port Salut? I'm glad to see you chose it because it's one of my favourites. Understated, but consistently delicious. Such a lovely texture too.

Now, while many different types of customers frequent our shop, we are known by busy professionals in the area. They count on us for a reliable source of high quality meats, cheeses, beverages, biscuits, and breads. You probably know that type of customer. Those executives who work long hours and rarely set time aside for regular meals, yet still want to eat and drink well while working. We show our gratitude for their steady patronage with delicious goods, prices, and hours which match their needs.

Even though we are not supposed to know many details beyond their name, a career retail employee like myself learns to pick up subtle clues about even casual customers.

Therefore Javone, I can reliably tell you several SIS senior staff frequently shop in our store. Partly it's due to our quality merchandise and, frankly, because we open at the crack of dawn and don't close until very late. It also helps we are an easy ten minute walk away from their home office through Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. That's just the right amount of time to clear your head after a troublesome meeting, isn't it?

Excuse me young man, did I say something funny? Oh, is it that name? I know, it seems a bit silly, but no need to snicker. <clears throat> Now, back to our mutual concern. I believe I have information you want, is that correct?

Over the years both Mr Tanner and Ms Moneypenny have become particularly friendly. They're terribly kind, both of them and they work such long hours. It's been through helping them I've learned to separate out which cheeses Mr Mallory prefers from the ones he does not care for, the beverages that gentleman in the beautiful suits prefers, and which biscuits to keep in stock for the often distracted younger man with the ever changing hair styles and glasses. He's always so kind to me. I really like talking with him.

Which explains why when I didn’t see any of them come through our doors this past week, I became concerned. They rarely all come in on a daily or even weekly basis, but not seeing any of them this past week felt downright odd. I knew immediately something horrible had happened.

Now Javone, what can you tell me? What do you know? And how can I help you?

[robygoonn2]

Buying him a gift [TSP Narrator and Reader fic part 1] can be platonic or romantic

You practically skipped home, smile on your face when thinking about how lucky you were earlier when you found what you did, for such a cheap price as well!

Well, finding the main thing part was lucky and made your day, however finding the other bits and pieces to go with your purchase was a bit of a hassle, trying to find certain cords and wires in different electronic stores

Good thing the stores you went to were all more older and had what you needed for an older computer like the one you found, when you showed the workers, most were shocked at how clean and pristine it still looked, and even said you're lucky for finding one so cheap since most would atleast have a key missing on the keyboard, or even a crack in the screen, but it seemed luck liked you today, and you weren't complaining in the slightest

With a hum, you dug out your keys and unlocked the door, yelling you were home and setting your shoes off to the side once you set your bags down with it

After a few seconds you heard him

"UH- JUST A SECOND PLEASE I ERM- I'M DOING SOMETHING RIGHT NOW UH-"

Huh, weird, he sounds panicked in way, but...he does have anxiety, but this was more of a "please don't walk in on what I'm doing" kinda voice, something you never really heard from him until now

"Uh....ok? Anyways, I bought you something that I think you'll like! Think of it as a housewarming present or...whatever people call it, since yknow...you're living with me now"

Walking into the kitchen you finally got a view of what he's trying to do, cook, well you probably should've guessed that since his voice did come from here while you were in the doorway

"Ooo, watcha trying to make?"

You peered over his shoulder trying to see what's in the pot, making him flinch and back off a little, embarrassment was written all over him, looks like....spaghetti sauce? But also you couldn't really tell with all of the other ingredients topping over each other and blocking your view of what's under it

"You..didn't expect me to come home so early, huh?"

He looked down, mouth hanging open to say something but nothing was said, he swallowed and shook a "no", eyes still on the floor

"Why is there so many toppings..? You can't even tell what you're trying to make here"

"I..er, heard you could put in other things to make the taste more rich, but I er- I think i may have added too much"

You smile and chuckled at him

"Well if you want, later i can teach you, i know a bit but I'm no master chef or anything"

He smiled a little as you guided him away from the stove with your hand on his back, bringing him to the table and gesturing for him to sit down, saying you'll be right back as you rushed to the front door to grab your bags, heading back

He sighed and finally spoke, setting down the clothe that was in his hands onto the table and fidgeting with it a bit

"So you said you bought me something hm? Whatever could have made you need to do that? I don't need anything"

You didn't glance over at him, too busy digging through the stuffed bags and setting things down onto the table to clear the bags to look for what you bought for him, curious, he picked up a couple of things and examined it as he waited for you

Finally you found it, grabbing it as a smile grew on your face, now looking back at him, to which his face just showed confusion and a little shock

"Is..that a laptop-?"

"Yup, got it for a really cheap price at a thrift store, thought maybe you could use it to write again! Like you did in the Parable? Uh- That is if you want to-"

He hummed softly and took it from your hands, opening it and checking out the screen and keyboard, you couldn't really read his face but he seemed pleased atleast, which is what you wanted

"Are you sure it works though? If it was in one of those places wouldn't most not work? But to be honest, I'm not quite sure about things like these"

"Well yeah, wouldn't they check before selling them? I dunno.."

He raised an eyebrow at you

"So you yourself aren't even sure but yet you went ahead with buying it? Because you thought i needed a laptop of all things-?"

"I dunno! You just seem bored all the time, and you mostly just lay in bed, but this way you can Interact with more things, like other artists, wouldn't you like that?"

Looking back at the computer he had a contemplating look on his face, muttering something between a hum and a stutter, until finally waving his hand at you while standing up from his seat

"Alright, Alright, I'll try it, if you REALLY think your money was worth it on this...thing, but if it doesn't work-"

He paused, giving you a grin as a mischievous glint in his eyes grew

"You have to return it, get your money back and buy me anything i want, perhaps a cookbook...or even a Rolex.. hmm..."

"HUH?! I doubt you could even buy one of those with the amount I spent on all this, Nar"

"Oh please, you must know by now when I'm teasing you right? You think i ACTUALLY want one of those things? No no....hm...but it might look nice...oh what to choose..."

A mix between a puzzled look stayed on your face as well as amusement as you watched him walk away, you knew he liked teasing you but if it really was something you could afford then maybe he would make you get it for him, as payback for being so careless with your money

After a few minutes of you unpacking all of your purchases, he said he'll take a shower, and will then want to check out the laptop

Surprise was one main thing you felt, because for the past few days he seemed incredibly picky on whatever you brought home, even refusing to eat certain take outs, but he seemed intrigued by this, which you thought was good development and made you a little giddy with excitement

I WILL BE WRITING PART 2 SOON!!

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Miscellaneous Monster Tales 2

This felt a bit more comically purposed than the last one.

Golems

I complained about how golems were only used for combat purposes and this ended up giving a justification for why they aren't used for general purposes. And it's an explanation I felt in my soul.

It was because of programming errors.

This is like the equivalent of writing "if (x = 0)" when you were supposed to write "if (x == 0)". The first will set variable x to the value 0 and then return true because the operation succeeded. The second will check the value currently stored in variable x and return true if the value is 0 and false otherwise.

This also reminds me of a personal story trying to debug an issue I had with a spreadsheet I needed to analyze. I wanted the program to run a certain task for every line in the file but it kept having some odd error where the first line worked correctly, but every other line would act as if there was an extra field at the beginning and shift over by one.

Eventually I found that the issue was certain versions of Windows defined a new line differently from the linux OS I was using. The end of every line in the spreadsheet had a "\r\n" that I could only find by converting the spreadsheet into ASCII and then I had to remove every "\r" in the file to get it working.

Orcs

Kinda strange how orcs have upward facing teeth in their upper jaws. That seems impractical. Also, the teeth sticking out of the chief's mouth when it's closed are the upper teeth.

I wouldn't be surprised if those upper canines were rootless similar to a boar's tusks. In a hand-to-hand fight, orcs probably prefer grappling and then slashing their opponents with those teeth. It would keep them safe from getting something in their mouth they don't want.

I've seen posts of people commenting on Ryoko Kui's artbooks and I have to strongly agree that she knows how to draw women of all sorts of body types. And this section is just her indulging in the beauty of large women.

And Laios being Laios, he didn't realize where the line talking about physical attraction becomes uncomfortable and ended up angering the chief because the chief thinks Laios is leering at his wives. He also made Marcille uncomfortable because he had to bring up people's attraction to ears.

Mimics

All the info we get here is stuff from chapter 0. These things are just hermit crabs that grow to cocnut crab size and will use anything they can find. The one using a bottle cap is adorable.

They probably ambush small bugs and lizards when they're that tiny.

Treasure Insects

Nothing much to say here. Turns out the party ended up not only throwing away super valuable jewels, but they also ate super valuable specimens. Maybe the value of a treasure insect is related to how similar to an actual jewel they are.

Just as a reminder, I offered a hypothetical exchange rate of 1G = $0.05 USD when talking about the price of a book in the last Miscellaneous Monster Tales. Even at that rate, those bugs would go for fairly high prices. The diamond one would end up at $2,500, which is what an actual diamond like that could cost.

Ghosts

I'd heard of the thing Marcille mentioned about the weight of the soul and did some digging into it.

The whole thing comes from a 1907 study by physician Duncan MacDougall who wanted to see if souls have weight. He measured the weight of six patients at the moment of their deaths and found that one of them lost 21 grams when they died. The study is considered utterly bogus since he had such a small sample size and only reported on the single sample that fit his hypothesis. MacDougall himself even said that the results he got shouldn't be taken as conclusive of anything, but the newspaper that released the story did a horrible job actually reporting it as they usually do.

Calling brewing a type of necromancy is definitely a fascinating way to think about it.

Living Pictures

If Living Pictures are just illusion spells, then Laios's attempts to get food from them were doomed from the start no matter what. Even though he got to eat in that third painting, the food wasn't real which explains why he still felt hungry after and why he couldn't pull food from the second painting.

This is supposed to be silly but this one is just an existential nightmare. Laios's self-doodle seems to have all the memories of the real Laios and is just trapped in that painting forever.

Love how bad Laios's artwork is.

Kelpies

This is more informative than anything. I'd heard of kelpies before this chapter and decided to do a quick look into them because I was curious about the liver bit.

Kelpies originate in Scotland and they can shapeshift, though they usually can't transform their hooves.

It's probably just one of those things parents told children to keep them from playing in the deep rivers. "Don't play there. You'll drown" implies that the child's incompetence will kill them. But children are the most overconfident, egoists you'll ever meet. So you instead have to tell them there's a monster that will lure you in and drown you.

Now I'm curious if there were native horses or horse-like animals in Scotland that inspired Kelpies. Maybe the general origin is horse-riders would try to wade through rivers on their horses only to drown when the horse panicked and it spun into the kelpie myths.

I never found anything about them not eating livers.

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