#painting and decorating association

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #28

The Battle of Big Wand

Part 3 of reacting to this episode (spoiler-free)!

They locked the boy who has a darkness phobia in the deep dark pit, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

omfg, OF COURSE the first thing he does is ask for a drink... Good to know that even 8 years ago, I clocked him as growing up to be a guy who relies on the things that get Fairies drunk (sugar and carbonation) to block out his excessive trauma. oh geez, dude...

How long's he been losing his mind down here? He was fine a few episodes ago in "Growing Pains"! D: He was hanging out at his parents' place!

- Oh, I SO called Peri with magical back-up. He's having a rough go of it... Wowza, he's hallucinating about Dev. That's dark. - I really hope they don't send Foop on a bathroom break or my anxiety is going to spike through the roof. Even if Hazel did use her rule-free wish to revive them, would that be f'd up if they killed Peri and Irep off the way the Grim Reaper told Foop he'd die back in "Man's Worst Friend" or what?

I think ginger ale is good for nausea, which is why Peri's asking for it, but it's still funny because... canonically, he can get drunk if he has enough of that.

I like the rainbow sickness. This feels more correct and enjoyable than the rapid inflation and explosion of the OG series. You can tell Peri is sick and gradually expanding as his magic backs up, but I like that we get to see it, especially since it's set up as death in this universe (rather than easy to recover from in the OG).

I like seeing that Peri is VERY clearly ill and definitely not in a mental or physical place to "push through the pain and escape."

I definitely would say "This is dark," and this loops back to what I said watching "Fearless" and "28 Puddings Later" that A New Wish is definitely a tone shift from the OG. I wouldn't say it's Invader Zim dark, but I think the only episode that gave me vibes this dark was "Channel Chasers" during the scenes that were aiming for "gritty adult action with buff hero characters.

I know Poof and Foop got torn out of reality in "Timmy's Secret Wish," but that's still cute and fluffy to me... lmao.

sldkjfsdklfj, I made a joke during my "Lost in Fairy World" liveblog about how Cosmo and Wanda were going to get ants with all that candy in their room. I know Hazel is lying about ants, but I like it.

Her landlord's hair reminds me of Remy's. that's... a unique style.

/glances tiredly and uneasily at my list of Remy's many runaway uncles who scampered off since they weren't their parents' heir and are still pretty messed up...

I enjoy Wanda comforting her dying son while Cosmo's taking it hard off to the side. Cosmo wanting a moment to himself feels right.

Peri and Irep must not be synced up, presumably because Irep is using magic to grant wishes. Or Anti-Fairies don't get back-up.

There he is~ Anti-Cosmo "literally only here because I was told I might score a godkid" Anti-Cosma. I hate him! (affectionate).

Anti-Wanda looks like she would bite me and I would let her.

Something is so very wrong with Dev "Instead of wishing my lactose intolerance went away, I'm going to delete lactose from the universe" Dimmadome.

I enjoy Irep constantly bouncing or lightly kicking his feet as he waits for Dev to give him new wishes. He definitely gets that from his dad.

Absolutely on the floor that I clocked Anti-Cosmo as hanging back while Irep runs the show with Dev. They've literally not changed and I'm so happy!!!!

I spent over a year worried they were going to reboot A.C. into some take-charge, full-steam-ahead takeover villain, and you're telling me the local confrontation-avoider is still avoiding conflict??

Take me out now; it's never getting better than this. (The sequel.) I'm gonna be riding this high for months.

I was expecting to see Tibecuador on that map, but they cleverly have the Americas on the other side of the globe. I assume that disappeared when Timmy aged out of Fairies, though we know it wasn't unwished after Season 5 (It gets a mention in Season 6).

I like that both Dev and Irep enjoy dancing to "So proud of my son" lyrics. They're vibin'. Irep has daddy issues too.

sdlkfjsd, when Jorgen undid Dev's "king of America" wish a few episodes ago, he didn't erase anyone's minds?? I like that the news refers to Dev as "former king of America."

??? Did Dev and Trev break their friendship after Episode 1 because they both like Bev? That's hilarious!

The news report specifically says "couples are breaking up" due to Anti-Fairy influence, without implying that Anti-Fairies caused these two to get together in the first place. WERE they together? That's silly.

I am once again disappointed we were robbed of the Trev-Dev-Bev friend squad. But this is funny too.

Another waning crescent.

I'mma be honest, but Hazel saying she's had her fairies for about a year just makes me even more confused as to why we're doing a "get a rule-free wish after 1 million" instead of the previously established "get a rule-free wish after 1 year."

I... am gonna un-canonize her 1 million wishes in 'fic unless this ends up being incredibly important. Sorry to keep bringing it up, but I just can't wrap my head around this. "Timmy's Secret Wish" was kind of a big deal. It was a movie and not just a one-off episode, and it's been referenced several times in A New Wish already. Timmy took so much flak for being allegedly wasteful, dangerous, or overly reliant on his wishes. He did make some wild ones, but I'm SO curious to know what Hazel wished for. I wish we'd see flashbacks like we did in that movie, but again... recognizing the limits of a 20-minute episode.

I'm so glad Jasmine told Hazel she wasn't shocked by the reveal that Hazel had fairy godparents, seeing as in Post #10, I said she'd expressed suspicions towards Hazel twice but it didn't seem to be going anywhere and I was disappointed. That's a good callback.

Winn: Your apartment was a hotel and then it wasn't.

That's the other thing I was wondering about! Thanks, Winn. You're my favorite.

It drives me wild that Antony's not going to talk to Hazel about whether she has issues because he doesn't have the context to know fairies get assigned to miserable children. I feel like he'd really want to hear about that.

Antony knows Cosmo and Wanda? Maybe they DID have dinner together. I hope he met Peri. I think they'd be friends. I'll have to look back and see if he was introduced to them by name in "Rattleconda Racers," but... I don't think I noticed he'd clocked them as her neighbors.

They probably crossed paths offscreen while he was home for the holidays. I haven't settled on a timeline yet, but he could've been home for a whole month for winter, so it's likely they've met and he saw Hazel interact with them.

There is something so funny about Winn saying they sussed Cosmo and Wanda out as fairies because of their pink and green hair when they look like this:

I enjoy Hazel being familiar enough with Dev, Cosmo, and Wanda to know their clothes by heart, but she blanked on Irep-

- implication being that she remembered his giant square head and not much else. Not even wings.

Hazel 🤝 Chloe Remembering Foop's hair, mustache, and crown, but forgetting he wears clothes

I'm surprised Hazel's friends are ready to go to war against an entire race of evil magical beings famed for bad luck and torture, and they don't have any questions about this? I feel like one of them would want to talk to their parents. Jasmine said she was a fraidy-cat early on, but I guess facing her fears in "Fearless" turned that around more than I expected.

Oh no, Jorgen's in a pit.

??? If we're in Jorgen's office, where was Peri held before the takeover?

I like how Anti-Cosmo clicks his heels.

New shirt design for Anti-Wanda?? That was on my reboot bucket list! I had my fingers crossed for a fancy dress, sweater, or jacket, but I'll take it! This is clever because it's close to her old design.

... I don't look forward to drawing it :'D

I am OBSESSED with their energy. Anti-Cosmo is so fancy and Anti-Wanda looks like she showed up in pajamas or party clothes. And he loves her so much. That's always been their thing, but it's good to get a reminder since he spends so much of their 1-on-1 time in the OG series screaming and running around. I missed him... It's been 11 years...

... Actually, that makes this my first time ever seeing new (canon) Anti-Cosmo content drop since he was outtie by the time I got to the fandom (back in 2016 when Season 10 was just starting). Exciting!

I actually have an AU called "King Me" that I started in 2016 but have never posted anything for, but it's about Anti-Wanda being raised from birth as the leader of the Anti-Fairies and getting betrothed to some nerd, and seeing them new and shiny and dressed like this makes me want to finish it, because I love Anti-Wanda being in charge when she's so casual and silly. It's one of my favorites <3

omg, it's an anti-Fairy shirt... OH, this makes the fact I portray Anti-Wanda as giggly over puns and wordplay even better...

Anti-Wanda shopping, pointing at the crossed-out crown: It's me.

I like how while Anti-Cosmo is bragging that Anti-Fairies are masters of torture who know all their counterparts' weaknesses, Cosmo looks like this:

Anti-Cosmo: I'm a master of torture... I know your biggest weakness~ Cosmo: I don't believe you for a second, but go off I guess

Irep knew exactly what he was doing when he sent Peri to the dark pit... u can't make me believe it was an accident he was hyperventilating and rocking back and forth with crossed eyes when Cosmo and Wanda got to him...

Wheezing at the fact that I'm pretty sure neither A.C. nor Anti-Wanda has been addressed by name because the writers gave us Irep and Lezah... They can't drop the anti-names on us and don't want to call them Omsoc and Adnaw.

I DID wonder where that set-up was going, but I think their names not being not acknowledged at all is the funniest direction.

Like?? POV, New Wish is your only exposure to Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda, but you don't engage with the fandom so you sus out for yourself what their backwards names would be and that's how you grow up thinking of them.

I personally have Anti-Fairy kids using names picked by their parents and they only switch to using their anti-names when they become adults, so... if we were to assume Irep is just slightly too young to use the name Anti-Peri, that headcanon would still track in New Wish for him and Lezah. Which is interesting.

..... If Peri is short for Periwinkle, is Irep's full name Elkniwirep, because ouch. I understand where he was coming from when he complained his new name was "much more difficult to pronounce" than Foop.

I like the implication that Anti-Fairy nicknames would come from the end of their names rather than the beginning. Though looking at that name, I think Noir would also be an appropriate nickname for him.

Irep when he has to sign for a package for his parents: Eh, you can come back next week.

Anti-Cosmo's clothes are spot-on. It's him!! ... Except for his monocle being on the wrong side. I personally made him blind in one eye in 'fics, but I'm pretty sure a real monocle can be used on either eye.

It's kind of funny to me they did that. It must be easier to model this way, but the OG series never depicted him switching to the other eye even when he turned his head. Kind of interesting in an "I wonder if modern fanart will portray it interchangeably or if the right eye is deemed consistent" kind of way.

!!!! They kept his big ol' giant fangs!!! Irep definitely gets most of his personality from his mom, but he's got Dad's fangs <3

This makes me want to practice drawing him more. A.C. is the hardest for me to draw (between his clothes, hat, hair, and having bat-like ears in Cloudlands AU), but I really like his cravat here and would like to take another whack at him, I think.

skldjf, I'm glad Anti-Cosmo is still Mr. "super weird about needing to hold things in his left hand." Nobody cares, but I care

In the OG show, he threw his wand off-screen so he could switch his teacup to his left hand after picking it up... He does this in multiple episodes, shifting things to his left for no reason even if he picks them up in his right. I'm sure it means nothing, but... why did they draw him doing that? He keeps his wineglass on his left despite Anti-Wanda being depicted with hers on her right... Sometimes he'll even stand next to other characters and hold an item in his left even though his neighbor is holding the same item in their right. why.

?? Anti-Cosmo had to look up "discombobulated" in the dictionary? Wouldn't the taunting have been stronger to prove he doesn't have to look it up?

I like Anti-Cosmo bracing his legs beneath the dictionary the same way Peri did when he was looking at Da Rules.

Heavy book; need better weight distribution or it's killer on the back.

sdfkljsd... oh, poor Cosmo... Listen..... LISTEN........ I know there's no way in heck they would bring back the "77 Secrets of the Fairly OddParents (Revealed)" lore that Cosmo's deepest secret is that he's an "author of distinction" who's written oodles of books, including Astrophysics for Morons from the episode "Shelf Life," but...

This is SO MEAN... I have a 'fic ("Repeat") where we learn Cosmo's been erasing his own memories for ages because people wanted him in jail or worse for writing about astrophysics when Fairy culture pushes the idea that stars are ancient Fairies (à la "Wishology") and this is how he's protecting himself. My interpretation of him is that he gets upset sometimes because "He used to know what these words mean," like... that is an actual scene I've written, and I'm dying...

Corporate needs you to find the difference between these scenes... lmao.

"We knew it wouldn't be easy, not following the old beliefs… but we're on enough thin ice with the Fairy Council as it is. Let's… not tip the scales by making wild claims about the stars. But if it's any consolation… You can tell me about astrophysics any time of week." "Mm…" He didn't even know what 'consolation' meant. He did once, though… Didn't he? When he read his old diaries, they made no sense because he used to know so many words. His handwriting. His memories. But not all the words made sense anymore. Robin Cosma would be so disappointed in his son. How funny that your father can be a poet known across the cloudlands… and you can't remember how to spell "tinnitus."

Anti-Cosmo, you are being SO mean in my lore right now... Thanks, I hate it. But I like that physical torture wasn't the option they went for. This feels very right to me (Mental torments, preying on fears and paranoia instead of just attacking... This feels right for their species since they're supposed to be dark and creepy).

-> I mean, I don't know what I expected from Anti-Cosmo "avoids confrontation if he might get hurt" Anti-Cosma, but... lol.

SKLDFJSLDFJSLDFJ??

Anti-Wanda: /shoves A.C. out of the way and takes his book Anti-Cosmo: :(

If Anti-Cosmo has to confront anyone while he's in slapping range, he will die, actually. Wait, what did I write at the start of this liveblog?

OG series Anti-Cosmo doesn't even want to take over Fairy World; he wants a godkid. His shtick is "I will literally do anything for a godkid even if it's stupid and I make a fool of myself." And then he makes a fool of himself; it's great. [...] Taking over means confronting magical people, and Anti-Cosmo doesn't, like... do that. He taunts people IF he holds a blatant advantage (like them being locked up or them being a human who can't jump and grab him), but he's also a huge coward <3 He's Mr. Buddy System. He needs his Anti-Fairies. So... He might be here, yeah! But I do get major Irep vibes. Irep's totally leading, and I don't see Anti-Cosmo's aesthetic here, so I think he's playing a small supporting role if he's here at all. [...] He DOES have smug energy and cool lines sometimes… but he's also a tantrum-throwing brat who's scared to stand up to people, and in this house, we love him for it!! [...] I just want Anti-Cosmo to be an awkward nerd pretending to be confident, but also he likes to run around and goof off, but he should also look at people like he's confused they kicked his puppy.

sdlkfjsfdjkl??? oh my fluffin' gee. This is beat for beat "Anti-Cosmo taunting people when he's trapped them under a butterfly net in "Fairly Odd Baby" and then backing the heck down as soon as H.P. tells him "Yeah, we're not doing that." ... This is the same energy as Jorgen's slideshow when he specifically labels H.P., not Anti-Cosmo, the more influential parent of the anti-fairy child they raised to be evil way back when... He's the same person... He's such a sheep <3

I was so worried they'd change you, my doormat nephew, and for WHAT?!! Go king; give us nothing!!!

They didn't give him oodles of sass? That's what I thought for SURE they'd reboot him with. I'm losing it. He really is "just there doing his best" without being the main villain. He's minimally helpful. Basically not at all. I can finally embrace him without a hint of hesitation... My windblown tissue of a boy has come home!!

This is the best! spitting, crying. I cannot believe this. I can finally stop second-guessing if I even read him right in the OG series. He's so cringefail loserboy and always has been and I can finally stop lying low about it! I LOVE HIM!!

I genuinely could not fathom a world where they brought him back and he was still just Like That... How ?? did they do this?? I was so SURE they'd put him in charge and only present his "smug, confident" façade and I'd just shrug it off and try to squint for the parts of him I enjoy the most… omfg… Our anxious, dorky coward actually made the jump?

He's like Anatole Kuragin... Anti-Cosmo would be flawless in the role of "Okay, sing these two songs like you're the sexiest and most confident man alive. And for this other song, cower on the floor wailing about how you're a man of honor and the old man calling you a scoundrel should take it back because it hurts your feelings. You just tried to kidnap the girl you like, but got spooked and ran away. btw, you're everyone's most specialist boy in the world."

The Natasha, Pierre, & the Great Comet of 1812 AU nobody asked for but we know we deserve:

btw, after years of waiting, I had the opportunity to see this musical (<3) and words cannot express how I felt when - after listening to the soundtrack and always wondering why Anatole backs off so fast when Marya shoos him from the courtyard - I got to experience the shock of Marya bursting onstage with a gun.

I am in such shock that I read Anti-Cosmo right. Like ?? I don't know why that's bizarre to me- I've taken so many notes on him and I was very confident in what I thought about him. I just ?? can't believe he's still set up to be a soggy dishrag?

No one ??? ever portrays him like this ?? We don't do that here! That's not on his Fandom Wiki page, which calls him a "ruthless criminal mastermind" and "far more devious than most other villains in the show." People don't remember him like this... I'm dreaming...

I gotta lie down. What the FLIP do they have written for him in the story bible, if anything?

-> I gotta read the OG series story bible @zachbrightside sent me. I've been putting it off 'til after New Wish, but maybe I'll liveblog my reactions to that too.

-> Fun fact, I collect story bibles due to my days of combing Scribd for early scripts... But the OG series story bible for FOP is one I never thought I'd see in my LIFE. I'm excited.

Okay, I totally got impatient and took a sneak peak at the New Wish story bible for fun (something I glimpsed super briefly about a year and a half ago and then put away because I wanted to wait and see the show for myself, so I didn't see more than a glimpse of Hazel, Winn, and Whispers Fred, but I don't want to look at the OG series bible until I'm properly liveblogging). AND!!!!

Guess who didn't misremember the rumor about the Pixies coming back! I'll talk about that more in a separate liveblog, I'm sure, but oh gosh; oh goodness...

They didn't reboot Anti-Cosmo with sass AND they have a note here about the Pixies "potentially aligning their interests with tech magnate Dale Dimmadome..." Do you understand how close that gets us to H.P. coming back as his sassy, in-charge self... My most beloved character in the series, still snarky... I want him so much... I can taste it... He's one chump door away...

I won't get my hopes up since Season 2 isn't confirmed, but do u understand... Yes I know they might kill him and replace him with Sanderson and it'd shatter me, but do u understand how close we are to the funky guy who's haunted my mind every day for the last nearly 9 years...

Dale, I have GREAT NEWS for you... The prophecy... H.P. and Dale together... My 7-year dream fulfilled at last...

what are Ben Stein's rates and can we get him for another movie. I think Pixies & Dale would be the thing that does me in; it's never getting better than that... Can you even IMAGINE if we had Musical 2.0. for some inexplicable reason...... My favorite episode, oh goodness... Just let H.P. dunk on Anti-Cosmo again and I'm done; I'm out. retired. deceased.

It's SO over for y'all if they do bring back the Pixies. Unfollow me then because it's all I'll talk about for the rest of my life.

Hey wait a sec- I'VE BEEN ROBBED!!!! They WERE supposed to be here! Dale WAS supposed to be the finale antagonist!

?? I was RIGHT in my initial assumption that Dale had been set up for this plot. I'm totally justified for going into this finale thinking we were gonna fight Dale. That's... way funny, because I have a whole note over here I was gonna address when I'm done watching about how I don't feel like Dale stalking Hazel and all those notes about Fairy World left on his board even went anywhere...

Did they drop the "Dale stalking Hazel" plot point & this Pixie route because they figured Anti-Fairies would bait viewers in and Pixies wouldn't? So, like... did we only have that scene to upset Dev, and now we're not following through with the implications? :'D I am dev-astated on both accounts...

I probably would've done the same thing in their position (Write the finale for Anti-Fairies instead) because the Pixies aren't as well known (I think) and don't have the same opposite vibe as counterparts (which makes for dramatic storytelling), and maybe increased excited viewers increases chance of Season 2, but...

I've been robbed blind!! D: OH, this hurts so much more than when it was "just a rumor" to me that the Pixies were meant to appear "in the latter half of the season." skdljf, I shouldn't have looked at this; what've I done... PLEASE give us a Season 2 with Pixies in it... I'm beggin'... I've seen behind the curtain and I cannot be reborn in my innocence.

- Extremely funny to me that the Pixies not showing up implies they're not making a move because it hasn't been 37 years since their last big takeover plan. It's the OCD... - HEY WAIT A MINUTE, back at the start, I told y'all taking over Fairy World wasn't Anti-Cosmo's thing and it was actually H.P.'s... oh, this is FUNNY... I wish I had someone I could rub this in the face of. Oh my feathers, I'm SO glad I know H.P. and Anti-Cosmo well enough that I nailed them both like butterflies on display and didn't make a fool of myself [in my mind], sldkfj... #Not a fake fan... You don't spend 8 years writing 1 million words worth of 'fics about each of them without knowing your boys!!! I'm sorry, I just... This has been extremely funny to liveblog. I didn't peek ahead... I didn't know for sure if Anti-Cosmo was gonna be here to take over Fairy World - I really thought they'd reboot him to be confident and suave because why would they read him as an anxious coward?? nobody does that - but I sure as heck knew an Anti-Cosmo based closely on the OG wouldn't be leading the charge! He's a pushover <3 And the fact the Pixies were supposed to be here is KILLING me. Of course it was a plot meant for Pixies... because Anti-Cosmo doesn't do this and H.P. does. That's SO funny... I can't believe this... I'm dying, squirtle... I can't breathe... Please let me infodump about how despite everything I've said about H.P. going against the Pixie stereotype, he is actually implied to have OCD, and by his own admittance seems to want to take over Fairy World because Fairy World's disorder just drives him up a wall... I miss him... I lied about loving Anti-Cosmo; please come back, beloved... Please send him on a time travel vacation so he can come back feeling like he waited his obsessive 37 years... oh my glory, he's within my grasp... It's been 16 years... - The file name on this thing is "FOP Reboot Series Bible Draft 7..." oh, my boys lived up to 7 drafts... oh, my babies...

Oh my GOSH, they pitched an episode where Hazel's parents come over for dinner game night and Cosmo and Wanda are struggling to appear normal... That's the exact kind of episode I was sad we hadn't had yet back when I was saying post-Episode 1 Cosmo and Wanda were giving me sexy lamp vibes! I'm sad we didn't get this one.

Okay... I've seen too much. I won't read anything else in here and I'll save it for a future arc of liveblogging all these resources. Oh, this stings. The finale's cool and all, but I just miss my boys so much, and I want them to come back as their glorious, snarky, finger-gunning, drunk-on-the-job selves so a new generation can fall in love with them like I have, and they are SO CLOSE...... D: Nobody knows the trouble I've seen... nobody knows my

Ooh, what?

Big Daddy!? Mark Chang? Mama Cosma? Juandissimo?? omg-

IRVING?? They found you too?

No one is safe...

[unstable-samurai]

Instructions

Irene x Male Reader

word count: 3.2K

—

You drive up to Irene's mansion, where every inch of the lawn looks meticulously manicured, and the fountain at the entrance shoots water in a pattern that can only be described as "obscenely expensive." You still can't believe you were hired to train a woman who doesn't seem to need a single day in the gym, but money is money, right?

You step out of the car and walk to the front door, a massive wooden structure that probably weighs more than your car. Before you have the chance to knock, the door opens as if the house has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Irene appears, and the first thing you think is that the photos simply don't do her justice.

She's like an upgraded version of a classic diva, someone with a beauty that would be admired in any era of humanity, now enhanced by all the improvements time could offer. Black hair cascading in soft waves, feline eyes that devour you in a fraction of a second, and a posture that makes you wonder if you're standing before a queen or a trap disguised as a woman.

"Oh, I was excited to finally meet my personal trainer," she says.

"Ms. Irene," you reply, offering your hand in a gesture that feels outdated in her presence. Her hand is soft and firm, and the grip is just enough to make you feel that you are, without a doubt, in foreign territory.

"Come on, I'll show you the house," she says, turning quickly without waiting for a response. You follow her, walking through a house that is a maze of marble, stainless steel, and glass. Every piece of art on the walls screams in a flamboyant way, "I have more money than you can imagine," and the faint scent of fresh flowers lingers in the air, as if even the aroma of the house was custom-made.

"This here is the living room," she says, passing through a room larger than your entire apartment, and you pretend not to be impressed. "And over there is the kitchen. You might need something to drink after the workouts. Or during, if I decide to tire you out too much."

She smiles again, and this time you can’t help but smile back, with that kind of irony that only arises when you know you're in trouble.

"This is the bedroom," she says, stopping in front of a closed door. You feel the tension rise a bit, and she notices it. "Not that you’ll need it, but I thought you'd like to know where it is." She opens the door and reveals a room that looks like it came straight out of a decor magazine: an immense bed, silk sheets, and a view of the garden that seems hand-painted.

"Nice place," you say, more out of politeness than anything else.

"Thank you. Now, the gym," she says, as if this was the true purpose of the entire visit. She leads you to a room where all the exercise machines seem to shine with newness. "I need to stay in shape, after all," she says, leaning casually on a treadmill, her posture suggesting that the idea of sweat is something completely alien.

"Shall we begin, then?" you ask, already pulling out the water bottle from your bag, trying to appear professional.

You decide to start the session with the basics, which seems like the best approach when dealing with someone whose idea of physical effort probably consists of reaching for the remote control.

"So, Irene, have you trained before?" you ask, but in your mind, she doesn’t exactly look like the type who frequents a gym.

She smiles, that smile you're already beginning to associate with trouble. "Only if you count marathon shopping trips and half-hour Pilates sessions with my instructor who told me to breathe deeply and think of happy places. Does that count?"

You smile back. "Well, let's start with something simple. A warm-up. Just to prepare the muscles."

"Oh, I love a good warm-up," she replies.

You guide her through some basic stretches, and of course, she starts asking for help. "Can you show me how to do this one? I've always had trouble with it," she says while trying to touch her toes.

You approach, placing your hands on her waist to guide her, trying to ignore the fact that she’s perfumed for a workout. "Like this, push a little further forward... That’s it."

She lets out a soft sigh, almost inaudible, but you notice. "I don't think I've ever had someone help me like this," she says, making you realize that "help" has multiple connotations for her.

"Practice makes perfect," you respond, trying to stay focused.

After the warm-up, you lead her to the weight machines. "Let's start with something simple, like the leg extension machine. This will work your quadriceps."

She looks at the machine as if it were some kind of medieval torture device. "Quadriceps... Right. And this does what exactly? Makes me gain muscles?"

"Exactly. You sit here, adjust the weight, and lift your legs to extend the knee. It’s great for toning the thighs."

She sits down, but instead of following your instructions, she just pretends to be confused. "I don't think I'm getting it. Can you show me again?"

You lean in to help her adjust the position of her legs, and you feel her gaze fixed on you. "Like this? Is it good now?" she asks, her voice softer than it should be for a simple exercise instruction.

"Yes, it's perfect," you reply.

"So, have you been training for a long time?" she asks as you guide her through the exercise. "It’s noticeable, you know... by your physique, the way you explain…"

"I’ve been training for a few years. It’s a passion of mine."

"Passion? Interesting," she says. "And are you single? Or is there someone waiting for you at home after you spend the day helping women like me stay in shape?"

You hesitate, realizing that the conversation is veering off course.

"I'm single. I guess my work takes up most of my time. What about you? You told me your husband is always traveling, right?"

"He's away most of the time, yes. His work is... demanding. But luckily, I know how to take care of myself," she says, lifting her legs on the machine with a little more enthusiasm. When Irene was done, she paused to drink water, then walked between the machines until she chose the next one. “Hey, help me here. I don't want to mess up the movement, I need your guidance." She says, standing in front of the lat pulldown machine.

"Oh, great. This one’s for your back and shoulders," you explain, adjusting the weight. "You hold here, pull the bar down, and then release slowly, feeling the resistance."

She looks at the machine as if it were an abstract art piece.

"Looks complicated. Show me how it's done?"

You demonstrate the movement, feeling her eyes on every motion of your body. When you finish, she positions herself, but instead of pulling the bar, she holds it for a second, looking at you with a false expression of confusion. "I think I’m not doing it right. Can you guide me?"

You approach again, this time placing your hands on her arms, helping her execute the movement. "Like this," you say, your voice a little lower. "Pull with your back muscles, not just your arms."

"Since you’ve been working out for a long time, you must be very strong," she comments as she pulls the bar, her muscles tensing softly under your hands. "And you must be used to lifting heavy, right?"

"It depends on the workout," you respond, trying to ignore the fact that every word she says seems to have a double meaning. "But it’s always good to vary, to do a bit of everything."

"So, how many of these should I do?" she asks, as if she’s genuinely interested in the answer, but her eyes say something else.

"Let's do three sets of twelve reps," you reply, trying to keep a professional tone. She does the first set with you close by, watching every movement, and then asks for your help with the next machine.

The dynamic continues until, by the end of the workout, she’s sweating, but in a way that looks more like a healthy glow than discomfort. She stretches, her muscles relaxing, and looks at you with that same smile that started everything. "I think you made me work pretty hard today. Maybe I’ll need a massage afterward," she says, her tone provocative.

You smile, unsure whether to take her seriously or laugh. "Massages aren’t part of the package, but we can talk about a relaxation stretch."

"We’ll see," she says, stepping closer with that smile that always precedes trouble, the kind you should have learned to avoid. “It seems like I’m the only one sweating here,” she says, with a sweetness that’s pure venom, before leaning in and, without warning, licking your cheek.

You take a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. "Ms. Irene, what is this?!"

"I told you, you’re not very sweaty. And I licked you to prove it," she responds with the casualness of someone asking the time.

"But what the hell does that mean? I came here to work—"

"And you’ll get paid at the end, of course!" she interrupts, her smile widening in a way that only makes things worse. “I just want… to have a little fun with you. Include that in the deal. You could earn a bonus for it, if you’d like.”

She takes another step forward.

“Irene, you’re married. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not a good idea.”

“No one needs to know, sweetheart,” she whispers, as if it were a secret you truly wanted to hear. “You’re too young to be so worried about life.”

You try to speak, but the words come out jumbled, as if your mouth forgot how to work.

“I-I… This isn’t right.”

She laughs, a sound that makes you feel like a mischievous boy caught in the act. “I bet I’ll make you change your mind once you see what you’re missing.” With a quick, decisive movement, she removes her top, revealing small, pale, perfect, and provocative breasts. Her smile widens, and you feel your face flush with heat. Worse than that—you feel your cock pulse in your pants.

“What do you think?” she asks, each word dripping with irony and certainty.

“Cover yourself, please!” Your voice comes out louder than you intended, but the plea is almost pathetic.

“Oh, don’t play the saint with me,” she retorts, suddenly stepping closer, grabbing your hand with firm resolve and placing it on her breast. The touch is warm and soft. You swallow hard, but it feels like the lump in your throat is stuck there for good. And the worst part? You can’t pull your hand away.

“What do you think? My boobs are small, but they fit perfectly in your mouth,” she teases, her voice lower, more intense.

“This isn’t right, Ms. Irene…” you try, but your resistance is fragile.

“Shh! Just call me Irene,” she orders, and before you can protest again, she seals any chance of escape with a kiss—warm and commanding, as if she already knew you wouldn’t say no.

Before you could even process what was happening, Irene had already wrapped her hand around your cock. With force. With a desire that you felt reverberate down your spine. “You’re so hard for me,” she whispers, her lips pulling away from yours, but the heat of her proximity still clinging to your skin.

“Irene…” you murmur, the name escaping as a whisper, almost a plea, but for what? For her to stop or to keep going?

“That’s right,” she continues, giving you no room to regain control. “I want to hear you moan my name while you fuck me good.”

Before you could refuse—or worse, agree—she pulls you toward a weight bench like she’s practiced the move a thousand times. It’s astonishing how a woman so small, so delicate, can exert such absolute control over you. You feel like a toy in her hands, powerless to resist.

You take off your shirt while she kneels to untie your shoes, making sure every detail is perfect, that you’re comfortable—but not for you, for her. When she asks you to take off the rest, you comply without question, feeling the cool air caress your exposed skin. She compliments your physique, her words sliding over your skin like hot oil. Her hands roam over your muscles, her fingers tracing the contours of your biceps.

“You’re so hot,” she murmurs, kissing your chest, her lips warm and soft. The excitement builds within you, uncontrollable, wild.

You sit back down on the bench, Irene kneels between your legs, her smile a mix of wickedness and pure desire. She takes your cock with a confidence that makes you hold your breath, her touch firm, almost possessive. “Wow… you’re much bigger and thicker than my husband,” she murmurs, licking the tip, teasing, while her eyes remain fixed on yours. “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to have something like this… I’m going to love gagging on this cock.”

She slowly opens her mouth, her lips stretching around the head of your cock, and the sensation is mind-blowing. You watch, mesmerized, as she starts to take you in, inch by inch, until her mouth is completely full. “Oh, yes,” she mumbles with difficulty, her words muffled as she struggles to accommodate your size.

She begins to move her head up and down, faster and faster, the wet, warm sound of her mouth creating a steady rhythm. Her small mouth adjusts to your cock, fighting the instinct to pull away, but instead, she pushes forward, making it clear she wants more.

The sight of her, drowning on your cock, is almost unbearably arousing. You can’t resist, your hands go to her hair, pulling to gain more control. With a decisive move, you push deeper into her throat, and the muffled moan she lets out is a mix of pleasure and challenge. “Just like that,” she moans, tears welling in her eyes from pleasure and effort, but with no intention of stopping. She wants this as much as you do.

You feel her throat tightening around your cock, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you as she takes you as deep as she can, not giving up even when her air becomes scarce. The mix of pain and pleasure on her face only fuels your desire further, and you continue, deeper and deeper, until she finally has to stop to breathe, gasping, but with a satisfied, lascivious smile on her face.

Irene stands up, her gaze burning with a desire that mirrors your own. She starts to take off her leggings, revealing she’s not wearing any panties. The sight of her like this, naked and ready, is enough to take your breath away.

Without a second thought, you grab her firmly, your hands holding her slim waist as you lift her off the ground with an ease you didn’t even know you had. Irene lets out a low, sensual moan as she wraps her legs around you, locking her ankles behind your back, pulling the two of you even closer. With a decisive movement, you press her against the nearest wall, the cold concrete contrasting with the growing heat between you.

“Ohhh, yes,” she moans as you penetrate her for the first time, her head falling back, hitting the wall, but she doesn’t seem to care. “You’re so thick!”

With each thrust, Irene responds with louder, more desperate moans. “Just like that, baby… more, please, more!” Her voice is a mix of command and plea, her nails digging into your shoulders, pulling you closer, as if she wants to merge with you.

“That’s it! Oh, God! You fuck me better than my husband!”

That somehow spurs you on, every movement becoming deeper, stronger, as if you’re trying to shove every inch of yourself into her. Irene bites her lip, her face in pure pleasure, and then she starts babbling, as if facial expressions weren’t enough to describe what she’s feeling. “Yes… fuck me… fuck me hard… do what my husband never could…”

But she’s not the only one on the edge. The heat of her body, the almost painful tightness around your cock, every moan and sigh, it all makes you want more, makes you lose control.

After what feels like both an eternity and an instant, you feel like you need more. With a quick move, you pull away from the wall and carry her to the bench. Irene drops to the floor, turns around, positioning herself on all fours while you sit down. She positions herself, slowly lowering onto your cock, moaning as she feels you stretch inside her, filling every inch.

She leans back against you, her head resting on your shoulder, her body sinking even further into your lap. Your hands immediately move to her small breasts, squeezing them, while your lips find her delicate neck, biting and sucking the soft skin. Irene lets out a loud moan, the sound of pure satisfaction, and arches her body, pushing herself even deeper.

“Yes… leave a mark… mark that you were here… that you fucked me like no one ever has,” she pleads, her words breathless, interrupted by moans that only grow louder as you squeeze and thrust into her.

You don’t hesitate, biting harder, leaving a visible mark on her neck, a testament to what’s happening. Irene shudders in response, her pussy tightening even more around you, each of her movements sending waves of pleasure through you, making you forget any shred of morality. She moves against you, her rhythm frantic, the need for more, always more, evident in every gesture.

“Yes… yes, baby… fuck me until I can’t take it anymore,” she moans, her hands reaching back, grabbing your neck, pulling you closer as she continues to move, to lose herself in the sensation.

Irene, breathless, leans in closer, and with a soft voice, almost a whisper, says in your ear, “I want you to fuck my tight ass.”

Her words are like a match striking the box, igniting something fierce within you. Irene rises off your lap and walks to a corner of the gym, where she grabs a bottle of lube. She returns with a mischievous smile, shaking the bottle in the air. “I brought this just for this moment,” she says.

“You had this in mind from the start, didn’t you?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Irene doesn’t bother replying. Instead, she kisses you before lying down on the padded floor, her pale skin contrasting with the dark material, her body exposed in a posture of pure submission, but with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they want. “Come here, you naughty boy,” she calls, her voice like poisoned honey.

You kneel beside her, your hands trembling with desire as you reach for the lube. Irene smiles at you, then gets on all fours and arches her back. With steady movements, you pour the gel into your palm and begin applying it to her ass, feeling the warm, soft skin under your fingers. Irene lets out a low sigh, closing her eyes, savoring the sensation. "That's it... get me ready, I want to feel every inch of your thick cock inside me."

You don’t waste any time. With one hand, you spread the lube around and inside her ass, your fingers gently penetrating to prepare her. Irene bites her lip, her body slightly writhing, a mix of pleasure and anticipation. "Feels good, keep going... make me ready for you."

When you feel she’s sufficiently lubed, you apply the rest to your cock, rubbing it until it’s fully coated, hard and throbbing.

Irene changes position, lying on her back on the floor. You position yourself between her raised legs, and she looks at you with eyes full of desire. "Come on, don't wait any longer," she begs, her voice low and sweet. You press the tip of your cock against her tight entrance, pushing slowly, feeling the initial resistance. Irene lets out a moan of pain mixed with pleasure, and you keep going, advancing inch by inch, feeling the heat and pressure around you.

"Ahhh… yes," Irene moans, her eyes closed, her hands gripping the padding beneath her as you penetrate her slowly. "It's so big… so tight…"

You keep pushing, feeling her ass open up, millimeter by millimeter, her body adjusting to your size. The heat, the pressure, the sensation of filling her completely is indescribable, and the low moan she lets out only fuels your desire. "Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me deeper," she pleads.

You obey, pushing deeper until you're finally all the way inside her. Irene lets out a muffled moan, a sound of pure satisfaction, her body arching with pleasure. "Yes… like that… don’t stop," she begs, her eyes shining with wild desire. You start to move, slowly at first, savoring every second, every contortion of her body, every moan that escapes her lips.

As you gain rhythm, Irene’s moans grow louder, more desperate. "Yes… fuck my ass… do what I never let my husband do… ahhh… harder… please," she moans, every word an encouragement for you to go deeper, to push both of you to the limit.

And you do, increasing your speed and force, your hands gripping her thighs firmly, guiding each thrust with precision, feeling her body tremble with pleasure until it all comes down to heat, sweat, the pure desire consuming you both.

Irene then begins to tremble, her body stiff with imminent pleasure. She looks at you, her eyes burning with lust and urgency. "Mmm, I’m about to cum, babe… Let’s cum together?" she asks, her voice broken by moans.

You feel her body pulsing around you, each contraction almost pushing you over the edge.

"Do you want to come inside my pussy? Fill it with your cum?"

The desire and madness of the moment take over you. “Can I?” you ask, your voice tense, almost disbelieving.

“Of course you can,” she replies with a wicked smile, "I'm on the pill, darling. I want to feel you unload everything inside me."

With that, you both move into the classic missionary position. Irene spreads her legs and bends them, her feet planted on the floor, while you kneel between her thighs, your cock positioned exactly where she wants it. Irene wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you closer. The warmth and tightness of her pussy confirm your decision: you need to cum inside her.

You start thrusting into her, each stroke deeper and faster than the last. Irene moans loudly, the sound of her moans echoing through the gym. “Ahhh, yes… more… harder…” she screams, her eyes closed in pure ecstasy. “Fuck my pussy… Make me your cum dump.”

You’re on the verge of exploding, your entire body tense with the anticipation of climax. Irene feels it and, between moans, murmurs, “I’m almost there… I’m going to cum…”

“Me too… I’m almost there…” you reply, your breathing fast.

She opens her eyes, her gaze burning with intensity. “Have you ever cum inside a stranger before, huh? Ever filled a married woman with cum, you pervert?” She asks, her words hitting you like a wave of heat.

Those words make you lose control. With one last, powerful thrust, you bury yourself deep inside her, feeling your cum release into the depths of Irene’s pussy. She screams as she cums at the same time, her body writhing beneath you, her legs tightening around your waist.

“Ahhh… I can feel it all… it’s so warm… so good…” Irene moans, her words loaded with pure pleasure, her breathing ragged as she feels every hot stream filling her. You keep moving, even as the orgasm leaves you breathless, prolonging the pleasure for both of you.

When you finally pull away, your cock slipping out, cum begins to slowly drip from her pussy.

Irene smiles, a satisfied and wicked smile, as she looks at you, her breathing still uneven. "That was… exactly what I wanted," she says, her eyes gleaming with contentment, as the cum drips between her thighs, and you watch, fascinated, as she uses her fingers to spread her lips, letting the cum flow freely. She collects some of the semen with a finger and brings it to her mouth, tasting the result of your mix.

Irene kneels beside you and leans in for a deep kiss, her lips warm and moist against yours, while her hands glide over your body, caressing you with a certain tenderness.

“So, handsome, what did you think of the workout?” she asks.

You, still with your body pulsing with residual pleasure, respond with a smile, “I loved it. It was… incredible.”

Irene smiles back. “Good to hear that,” she says, with a note of amusement, “you can consider yourself my official personal trainer now. And the best part, you’re still getting paid for it. Isn’t it the best job in the world?”

You laugh, a mix of incredulity and amusement, realizing that your concept of ‘job’ will never be the same. “So that’s it? Daily sex with a gorgeous woman and I’m going to get paid for it? What are the downsides?”

“There aren’t any. As long as my husband never finds out, of course. But that’s my problem. Your only requirement and concern is to keep me satisfied.”

With that, she gets up nonchalantly, and starts gathering the clothes scattered on the floor.

You also get up, and as you’re dressing, you can’t help but think about the absurdity of the job you’re accepting.

When you’re almost ready to leave, Irene approaches, casually adjusting her hair.

“Don’t forget, tomorrow is training day again,” she says, her voice full of light arrogance. “Same time. Don’t be late. I want more of that… energy,” she adds with a smile.

You nod, laughing to yourself as you try to regain some of your composure.

“Sure, I’ll mark it on the calendar.”

[dead-end-draws]

Tribe Banner concept art:

Folks seemed to enjoy my WOF WIPS, so here’s more concept art for y’all! My favorite thing about WOF is the potential for world building. I thought it’d be cool to see a tribe emblem represented on a banner/flag of sorts:

Read below for some of the thought process / headcannons behind the design choices: 👇

Skywing Banner:

Skywings pride themselves on 3 things; treasure, fire, & their enormous, soaring wingspan which steals the sky.

As such, portrayed on the banner, the fabric (often made with dyed cow or goat leathers) resembles draped dragon wings. Two Skywings embrace a goblet, which is spewing golden fire.

The banner is often held aloft with iron or gold poles, signifying to other tribes their wealth and pride.

Mudwing banner:

These banners are fashioned with leather hides from cow or crocodile skin, held aloft with bamboo, and painted with a Talon-print & Reed crest.

The talonprint symbolizes community and the strength of Mudwing sibling bonds. The reed border unifies all Mudwings regardless of their relationship to home; the swamp. Bigwings are often seen carrying these into battle, signifing their status and making it easier for a sib to locate them in the flurry of a fight.

Sandwing Banner:

Sandwing flags are made with camel skins and dyed cactus leather.

A crest shows a Sandwing coiled around a beaming sun, a reminder that despite the revered 3 moons, Sandwings are born to thrive in sunlight.

The fabric is cut in a way to mimic the swooping dunes of Sandwing territory. And the poles of the flags are equally intricate, with scorpion tails and golden ropes which frame the banner.

These flags make prominent appearances in parades, festivals, and markets, and even miniature version are often displayed in homes or as tapestries/carpets.

Seawing banner:

These banners are often seen displayed in royal quarters or councils, or above land to mark territory.

A nautilus shell crest on front echoes the swirl-pattern associated with royal Seawings: The banner’s borders resemble waves and a dragon swimming beneath their surface.

These are crafted with rich materials, strung with seashells, pearls, silver dollars, and deep oceanic color fabric. There is severe penalty for Seawings found plucking treasure from the banners, as they are a direct symbol of royalty.

Nightwing Banner:

These banners emphasize the Nightwings’ relationship to the moon, their source of power and praise. The material, a contrast of white stitching against purple velvet showcases moonlight and night, black scales against stars, magic and mystery.

They are seen decorated with 3 moons at the top and a centered dragon reaching up into the night sky.

These banners were often used during the war as secret code by spies to deliver to other tribes. Prophecy scrolls often came attached, delivering cryptic messages or secrets in the night. These banners all helped add to the secrecy of the Dragonet Prophecy, and kept tribes on their toes around Nightwings.

Rainwing banner:

Rainwing banners are not used for battle purposes like other tribes, most are mere decoration, location indicators, and have no unified design.

However, It is said back when Rainwings left the rainforest to trade pre-war, this particular banner design was often raised above Rainwing merchant tables, and showcases the coiled tail of a Rainwing with leaves, vines, and other sights from the rainforest adorning a bamboo pole. Bright color combinations accentuated the flag to entice curious customers.

Now, only one tattered version of the original Rainwing banner remains, displayed proudly in Queen Glory’s quarters, a reminder that building the Rainwings’ community is their most important goal.

Icewing Banner:

These banners reflect the same standards Icewings hold themselves to.

Like a visual of the rankings themselves, each banner is cut perfectly from an Icewing’s trained, serrated claws to resemble icicles, and crafted with fine blue stitching.

Flags are often held aloft with perfectly polished narwhal horn or bone, and can be inlaid with sapphires or diamond.

Icewing soldiers are often gifted these during ceremonies, and perform training exercises with the flags to test their stance/attentiveness. The crest showcases the swift sharpness of ice through a flying dragon, and a snowflake toward the bottom reminding Icewings that even minuscule snowflakes, small things, should be perfect in form.

[shomatoriashi]

10/27/24; 03:30pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ how they react when you take the last piece of their favorite candy ]

featuring: rin, sae, yoichi, meguru

notes / warnings: potentially ooc.

not known to have much of a sweet tooth, itoshi rin’s diet consisted of mainly foods that helped with replenishing his strength and stamina. with his main goal as being someone who could surpass his own brother, there was little room for error when it came to what he put in his body.

however, one tiny fact was kept hidden from the vast majority of his peers, and that was how he enjoyed eating these strawberry flavored hard candies that were a particular favorite of yours. in fact, he remembers the day he had first tried them.

it was when you had first began dating him, where you somehow managed to weasel your way into his cold, dead heart by flashing him a smile that seemed to mimic sunshine itself. as your bubbly personality melted away the ice that seemed to take over the entirety of his form, you had somehow convinced rin that he needed you, too.

ah, but he digresses.

on this particularly sunny day, rin had taken you out on a picnic date. you were thrilled to be spending the day with him, yet when he showed you the packed boxes of lunch he had prepared for you-

let’s just say, there was a lot to be desired.

sure, the meal prep was a healthy one, filled with just the right amount of rice with some pieces of lightly seared chicken and neat cuts of omelette, but by the end of your picnic date, you were left yearning for something more. as rin takes a swig out of his water bottle, you pulled out your favorite brand of candies from the confines of your bag.

curious teal eyes begin watching you with a fascination, following your every movement as you grabbed one of the cutely wrapped candies and plopped it in your mouth. the way your smile seems to widen at the taste of it makes rin wish to experience the same happiness that you were experiencing.

capping his water bottle, rin extends a hand out to you, silently asking for a piece of your candy. your eyes go wide while meeting his gaze, “rin, i thought you didn’t like sweets?”

“i’ll make an exception.” for you, only for you-

the last part remains unspoken.

with a gentle smile, you pour out a few pieces of candy into his open palm, allowing rin to observe it. he picks up the piece, seeing it wrapped cutely in cellophane that was decorated with pink and red polka dots. unwrapping it reveals a single piece of candy that was a bright red in hue while maintaining its heart shape. letting out a sigh, rin plops the candy in his mouth-

allowing the explosion of sweet strawberries to fill his senses. his eyes end up going wide in response to such an explosion of sweetness, meeting your gaze when he hears the joyous sounds of your laughter.

“not bad, right?”

letting out a scoff, rin looks away from you, already feeling his cheeks heat up, turning a rosier hue while being subjected to your loving gaze.

ever since that day, rin had to have a bag of your favorite candies on hand. now, he didn’t enjoy eating it because of the flavors or anything-

it’s just, he associates you with those special candies.

and more often than not, he would eat a few of those candies before a major game, as a bit of a good luck ritual before his next competition.

so when his game was a mere few hours away, and he had returned home after his usual morning run, he was ready to enjoy some of your candies. as he reaches into the kitchen cabinet, he sees the last bag of candy and was shocked to see it completely emptied.

a deadpan expression paints his features as he takes the empty bag in his hand, seeing the top of your hair settled in the living room. he says your name, and you face him-

with your cheeks appearing a bit chubby, as evidence as to how you were currently eating the last piece of candy. he tilts his head at you and silently holds up the empty bag. your eyes go wide, making you jump off of the sofa.

“i’m so sorry, babe! i’ll go to the convenience store and buy a new bag now-“

“no need.” rin tosses aside the bag, taking quick strides toward you. placing a hand on your chin, rin leans closer to you, perfectly slotting his lips against yours, effectively causing you to melt against him.

he briefly allows his tongue to trace across your lips, silently demanding entrance as you gingerly opened up to him. when you feel his tongue exploring yours, you figured he would simply deepen the kiss-

only to gasp when he manages to transfer the last piece of candy into his own mouth.

a flustered expression was plastered on your face, with your hands covering your lips. your head felt like it was spinning when rin sticks his tongue out at you, revealing the heart shaped candy that you had once snacked on just mere seconds ago.

“this will do.”

since he began dating you all those months ago, itoshi sae became aware of the colorful bag of candies that held an assortment of flavors and how it became a vital part of your life. during those rare moments where he was able to destress and relax with you, he realized those candies never strayed too far away from you.

similar to his brother, sae never saw the benefits of sugary snacks, like the hard candies you seemed to always religiously consume. to him, they were mere empty calories that didn’t do much but add unnecessary weight.

yet, seeing you happily munching on those colorful candies-

well, what was the harm in sharing something that you loved? (especially when he loved you the most in the world.)

letting out a sigh, sae settles himself next to you on your desk, grabbing the bag of your candies. you see him from your periphery and smile back at him, “try one, sae. i’m sure it won’t hurt you.”

“tch, i know it won’t hurt me.” sae tilts the bag downwards, allowing the rainbow colored candies to fall against your desk. he eyes each and every one of them before meeting your gaze.

“pick one for me.”

you hum, placing a hand beneath your chin while giving him a thoughtful expression. after a few seconds spent in deliberation, you pick a candy that was bright blue in hue. “blueberry. this is the last flavor in the pack, but i think it suits you.”

sae picks up the candy, giving you a smirk before offering it back to you.

“i changed my mind, i’d rather see you eat this after all.”

you roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s antics, “come on, sae, don’t be so difficult. i swear blueberry is one of the best flavors in here, and i’m willingly giving the last one to you.”

“if you love it so much, then i’d rather see you eat it.” sae flashes you a playful grin, making you roll your eyes in response.

“fine, suit yourself.”

you unwrap the candy and place the sapphire colored sphere in your mouth, letting out an eager sigh. “mmm, you don’t know what you’re missing out on, sae.”

“is that so?”

suddenly, sae inches closer to you, nuzzling the tip of your nose with his in an affectionate manner. you end up letting out a gasp, feeling sae’s lips connect with yours in a searing kiss. you clench your eyes shut, allowing sae to delve his fingers into your hair, his tongue felt exploring your mouth for a few beats before you felt your candy being transferred into his mouth.

you choked a bit, eyes going wide when sae lazily wraps his tongue around the piece of candy, basking in your expression as his smirk widens.

“hm, it’s not bad, and i wouldn’t mind eating candies like this from now on…”

whenever isagi yoichi felt stressed, or needed just a quick pick-me-up, he usually bought his favorite chocolate candies from his usual convenience store.

these chocolates were nothing short of divine for yoichi, a smooth milk chocolate that takes the shape of the perfect sphere that practically melts in your mouth. in fact, he was the one who introduced you to this heavenly brand of chocolate.

needless to say, ever since you began dating, this specific brand of chocolate had become a staple part of your relationship.

for the last couple of weeks, yoichi had been on a bit of a strict regimen when it came to building up his muscle mass, adding more protein to his usual diet while also adjusting his workout routine in hopes of making his body a bit stronger.

yet now, he found himself craving those same chocolates he had to cut himself off of. those same chocolates that gave him that burst of serotonin as he came to associate such sweetness with your smiles as well.

when yoichi came home from the gym later that night, he knew that he needed his usual fix that comprised of his favorite comfort candies and your kisses-

and once he entered your shared bedroom to see you watching movies on your laptop with the bag of his favorite candies emptied-

yoichi was devastated.

“no…!” he falls to his knees, acting like such a complete wreck that you had to pause the movie you were watching. you get off the bed within seconds and kneel down beside him.

“ichi, what is it, what’s wrong?” he meets your gaze, allowing his lips to thin upon seeing the last piece of chocolate in your mouth as evident from how you were cheeking it. and even though he was pouting a bit, yoichi couldn’t stay mad at you.

“it’s nothing… i just wanted to eat some chocolate as well, just to treat myself. but… it’s okay if you already ate it.”

your eyes go wide, but you let out a sigh, coming closer to your boyfriend as you met with his gaze. shaking your head, you press your lips against his, anticipating his gasp when you transferred the last piece of chocolate into his mouth.

yoichi ends up choking in response to your bold move, swallowing the piece of chocolate whole without tasting it. scarlet hues were seen settled on his cheeks when he lets out a stutter of your name, “what the hell was that for?!”

yet your cheshire cat grin only widens as you throw your arms around his neck, “what? you were acting like a kicked puppy when i ate the last of your chocolates, so i simply gave it back to you. it’s not my fault you swallowed it whole.”

as yoichi remains a mess of stutters, you continue to cuddle yourself closer to him-

making him finally realize that your cuddles and kisses against his features may be far sweeter than the chocolates themselves.

ever since he was a little boy, bachira meguru was addicted to these hard candies that were tropical flavored (his favorite being the orange and pineapple mix). he often liked to snack on these candies whenever he felt stressed and needed something easy to munch on and lift his spirits.

and once he began dating you, it was clear that you developed an liking to these candies as well. during late nights spent marathoning movies together, you would often snack on these candies with some popcorn, never once growing tired of them as it became almost like a tradition for you to share these beloved candies together.

on a particularly rainy day, meguru was too lazy to go out on a run, sticking his tongue out the window while silently cursing at the weather. running a hand across his hair, he instead gets an epiphany, choosing to spend the day with you.

with a bounce in his step, he lets out a cheerful hum of your name, opening the door to your shared bedroom. his sudden appearance makes you jump from your spot on the bed.

your mouth remains open in a gape, and meguru could see the bright orange candy settled at the tip of your tongue. in your hand was your cellphone as it played some silly cat video on repeat. seeing you and the bag of his favorite candies makes him land atop the bed with an eager laugh.

yet when he takes the bag of candies, only to find them empty-

meguru meets your gaze, with a sense of betrayal shining in them.

“how could you, i thought you loved me…!”

you roll your eyes at meguru’s antics, “sweetheart, you’re overreacting. let’s just go to the store and buy some more-“

“no, absolutely not! it’s rainy and gross outside.” meguru settles himself next to you while still pouting, hands crossed over his chest with his cheeks puffed out. his childish demeanor makes you giggle a bit, with you basking in how silly he was.

gently whispering his name, you settle yourself on his lap, causing your boyfriend to look away from you. with a sigh, you grip at his chin, making him face you before pressing your lips against his in a kiss.

never one to deny you or your kisses, meguru ends up opening up to you, allowing you to transfer the last bit of candy into his mouth. with your goal now accomplished, you had every intention to pull away from him-

only to be physically stopped by meguru when he places a hand behind your head, keeping your lips locked with his in a fervent kiss that takes your very breath away, with the last piece of candy long forgotten now.

end notes: it’s so obvious who my bias is from the sheer length of these drabbles coughsrincoughs (⺣◡⺣)♡

anyways, i have to post this right away bc tumblr keeps messing up when it comes to saving my drafts; i’ll edit and make changes once this is posted 😭😭😭😭😭

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[thealtoduck]

Headcanons for Children of minor Goddesses…

(Nephele, Psyche, Ino/Leucothea)

——

Nephele (Cloud Goddess of hospitality, generosity, loyalty, peace and shyness)

They tend to have hair as fluffy as the clouds.

Their cabin is simple on the outside but very comfortable on the inside. The furniture has a cloud theme and is known to be very comfortable.

Since Nephele was molded by Zeus from a cloud to be in the image of Hera a lot of Nephele’s children share features with the Queen of the Gods. Because of this Hera has a small soft spot for children of Nephele.

Because they are half-siblings with the centaurs they occasionally receive party invitations from them. To which Chiron always advices them not to go because of how… wild centaurs get.

They don’t have that many poweful abilities but their powers are still helpful.

They have the ability to induce a feeling of peace and relaxation with their presence.

They can physically touch clouds and stand/sit/lay on them.

They are known to be one of the most peaceful cabins at camp and are usually not very strong fighters.

They prefer to help out in the infirmary with the Apollo cabin, their powers helping the injured relax through the pain.

Song I associate with them:

——

Psyche (Goddess of the soul)

They are very beatiful, no suprises there…

There’s also not very many of them as Psyche prefers to stay faithful to Eros, though they do show up every now and then… there’s usually no more than one at camp at a time.

When they are claimed a set of butterfly wings show up on their back. They don’t actually work though it’s just for symbolism.

Their cabin is decorated with a stained glass window of Psyche and Eros. The inside has invisible servants, just like Eros and Psyche’s palace.

Speaking of Eros, he loves Psyche’s demigods even if they are not his and sends them gifts on their birthday. Step-Dad of the year.

Putting aside their mothers feud they get along suprisingly well with Aphrodite’s cabin.

They usually wear colorful clothes and accessories to express their emotions or mood that day.

They have empathic powers, and can see the colour of people’s souls as if they were mood rings. And through touch they can stronger sense what might be effecting someone’s emotions.

Their empathic abilities make them basically lie detectors as they can both see and feel when a person is lying.

They are VERY resilient. If you give them a mission they will finish it and come back even if they lose all their limbs in the process.

They are very loving and caring and are willing to go to Hades and back for the ones they love.

Song I associate with them:

——

Ino/Leucothea (Goddess of the sailors)

One of the common feature Leucothea’s children share is that they have dewy skin.

Their cabin is mainly nautical themed on the outside and on the walls on the inside, there’s a wall painting detailing Ino’s transformation to Leucothea. The furniture and beds take inspiration from that of old cruise liners, such as the Titanic.

The floor of the cabin can also open up to a indoor pool, where they can practice their swimming or just hang out if they feel like it.

Compared to most other children of sea deities they can come off as rather arrogant and snobby, no one know specifically why this is.

As for their powers and abilities:

They are all expert sailors, they know how to use any type of boat, just by instinct.

They are all expert swimmers and can swim at very high speeds (using hydrokinesis to boost themselves).

Minor hydrokinesis, they can mainly only control the water around them while they’re actually in the water. They struggle to do it out of water but with pratice they can learn to do that too, though not to the degree of someone like Percy.

They can breathe underwater and are unaffected by any amount of pressure changes.

Like Percy they also have a nautical sense and know their exact location and coordinates when they’re out on the water.

A lot of them chose to use celestial bronze cutlasses over regular swords.

Song I associate them with:

[blueiscoool]

A Blue Painted Shrine is the Latest Discovery in Pompeii ‘Treasure Chest’

Archaeologists have unearthed an intricately decorated blue room, interpreted as an ancient Roman shrine known as a sacrarium, during recent excavations in central Pompeii in Italy.

The Italian Minister of Culture, Gennaro Sangiuliano, visited the site on Tuesday, describing the ancient city as “a treasure chest that is still partly unexplored.”

The blue color found in this new discovery is rare, with the culture ministry outlining that it is generally associated with environments of great decorative importance.

An in-depth analysis of the room, according to the ministry, found that the space could be interpreted as a sacrarium or a space dedicated to ritual activities and the conservation of sacred objects.

The walls of the room feature female figures that are said to depict the four seasons of the year, as well as allegories of agriculture and shepherding.

The new discovery came amid excavations in the Regio IX area of central Pompeii, a residential area that is currently one of the most active excavation sites for new findings.

The excavations are part of a broader project to secure a perimeter between the excavated and non-excavated areas of the archaeological park, which currently has more than 13,000 excavated rooms.

The project aims to improve the structure of the area, making the “protection of the vast Pompeiian heritage… more effective and sustainable,” the culture ministry said.

Other recent findings in the area include furnishings belonging to a house, a bronze kit with two jugs and two lamps, building materials used in renovations, and the shells of oysters that had been consumed.

Last week, it was reported that archaeologists in Pompeii had uncovered children’s sketches depicting violent scenes of gladiators and hunters battling animals.

The drawings, thought to be made by children between the ages of five and seven sometime before Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 AD, were found on the walls of a back room in the residential sector of the archaeological park.

They showed that even children in ancient times were exposed to extreme violence.

By Antonia Mortensen and Jessie Gretener.

[hopeastrz]

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬; 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲🌻✨

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬!! 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝟏,𝟐𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐞!!💛💛

𝐋𝐞𝐨 in the 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° on the 𝐀𝐂

Everyone wishes the best for themselves, and you aren’t an exception, but without doubt you make it your life mission to have the most perfect looks. No one touches your hair, only the most elite hairdressers can, in other words and in a more general sense you’re really picky in your appearance, the way you present yourself to the world, physical body, beauty, presence, ambition, your outward behavior.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Picky in the food you eat or cook, restaurants and cafés you go to, beauty products, perfumes, make up, just how you spend/manage your money in all aspects, you have the most expensive material possessions, like paintings, antiques, and also your music taste is quite unique, you only listen to specific chosen artists and songs!

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Picky in the conversations you decide to take part to or listen to, picky to whom you speak to, picky in the thoughts that swarm your mind, picky in your transportations and your cars?, you may not like going to the subway. the ideas and informations you indulge in, picky in your cell phone brand, social media accounts, gossips and short trips you take.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟒𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐂.

Picky in your home decor, the place where your home is especially if you live alone, the neighborhood/ place of residence you chose may be quite luxurious, picky in your self care products, things that give you comfort, and maybe even with whom you decide to start a family with, also maybe you have a picky mother!.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟓𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟓𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Picky in what gives you pleasure, places you go to for fun, your hobbies, arts, movies you watch, hair products?, games you play, places you go for vacations, concerts, festivals, carnivals, malls and cinemas, just open air places, and maybe even your boyfriends and short-term partners!.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟔𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟔𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Picky in your self care, self care products, strict workout routine/workout place, you only go to the best gyms, picky in your hygiene products, in your workplace, daily routine, tasks, picky in your diets, in your pets, you pick the best food for them etc..

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐂 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

You’re picky in long term relationships, picky to those you chose to marry, picky in everything related to marriage, picky in people whom you’re attracted to, picky in your business partners, in your close associates and love affairs.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟖𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟖𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Picky in sex, picky in your kinks, things you’d inherit, people you’re intimate with, picky with whom you share you secrets with, if you’re into astrology and taboo stuff in general you don’t share these topics with everyone, and if you ever let’s say book a tarot reading you only choose the crème de la crème of tarot readers.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

You probably went to one of the best universities, or like had an expensive college major, you’re picky in your beliefs, philosophies, languages and things you learn, also picky in the books you read, maybe even to where you travel daily too and media you consume.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐂.

One of my favorite placements to have in a chart, you’re picky in the career you pursue, salary, and your public image, meaning you take a good care in what you chose to display to the public, since you catch people’s attention easily, you’re also picky in your responsibilities and your professional matters/long term goals.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Obviously picky with whom you befreiend, your friend group, close friends circle and even people you know on the social media, you tend to attract lots of famous and wealthy friends, I’m talking like meeting princess or actual celebrities. Picky in where you party, clubs you go to, you may be part of exclusive membership clubs or something, Picky in your desires, films you watch too, you have a very high manifestations, ideals and hopes, you dream big!

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Picky in whom you let get close to you, picky in your sleep/ sleep environment, you can’t just sleep anywhere, like you may need the place to be absolutely tidy, only sweet when there’s a sweet calming aroma wafting through the air, and on your silky sheets only too. Picky in your fears, picky in your hidden desires, who you chose to spill your past with.

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟓 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞!.

[witchboxco]

Ostara Altar Ideas & Correspondences

Ostara, also known as the Vernal Equinox, marks the balance between light and dark, symbolizing renewal, fertility, and the awakening of the Earth from its winter slumber.

Ostara Correspondences

Symbols: Eggs, rabbits, spring flowers, seeds, and chicks.

Colors: Pastel shades such as green, yellow, pink, and light blue.

Crystals: Aquamarine, rose quartz, moonstone, and clear quartz.

Plants: Daffodils, tulips, crocuses, and other early spring ephemerals.

Herbs: Jasmine, honeysuckle, and vervain.

Foods: Fresh fruits, leafy greens, eggs, honey, and sprouts.

Altar Decorations

Spring Flowers: Adorn your altar with fresh flowers like daffodils, tulips, or cherry blossoms to symbolize the awakening of nature.

Eggs: Decorate eggs with natural dyes or paint them with symbols of fertility and growth. Arrange them in a nest or basket on your altar.

Rabbits and Chicks: Incorporate small figurines or images of rabbits and chicks to represent the fertility of the season.

Symbols of Balance: Place representations of balance, such as scales or yin-yang symbols, to honor the equilibrium of light and dark during the equinox.

Spring Incense: Burn incense blends featuring floral scents like jasmine or lavender to evoke the essence of spring.

Altar Cloth: Use a pastel-colored cloth as the base for your altar to reflect the hues of the season.

Candles: Light candles in colors associated with Ostara, such as yellow or light green, to welcome the return of the sun.

Seeds and Soil: Display small pots of soil or bowls of seeds to symbolize the potential for growth and new beginnings.

Divination Tools: Incorporate divination tools like tarot cards or runes to seek guidance and insight for the season of growth ahead.

Offerings: Leave offerings of fresh fruits, flowers, honey, or bread as a gesture of gratitude to the Earth for its abundance.

As you prepare your altar for Ostara, infuse it with your intentions for renewal, growth, and the blossoming of new opportunities. May you find warmth in the returning sun. <3

[wisteria-lodge]

JK Rowling & the Color Pink

So I'm working on a thing about queer coding in the Harry Potter books... and first I needed to do a sidebar on how the color pink is used. I’ve made a list of every time a character either wears pink, or is heavily associated with a pink object. We actually get some pretty clear categories that are unintentionally very revealing, and say a lot about how JKR sees "girly" femininity.

Let’s start off with the obvious: 

PINK = VILLAIN (FEMME) 

Petunia Dursley: “salmon-pink cocktail dress," "neat salmon-colored coat." Also paints her walls "a sickly peach color."

Gilderoy Lockhart: “lurid pink robes to match the decorations” 

Pansy Parkinson: “very frilly robes of pale pink” 

Rita Skeeter: “long nails were painted shocking pink” 

Aunt Muriel: “feathery pink hat gave her the look of a bad-tempered flamingo.” 

(Aunt Muriel only shows up briefly at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, but then proceeds to insult pretty much every other character, and give Harry an existential crisis by spilling the tea on Dumbledore)

Dolores Umbridge: “a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan.” 

(Also: has pink stationary, and her pamphlet MUDBLOODS and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society has a pink cover) 

Cho Chang

(Okay. Not a villain per se, BUT. Cho is the reason the mole gets into the DA in the books (and just is the mole in the films.) And given that she is a sort of Umbridge-aligned sub villain in book 5, at least structurally... it IS interesting that the place she brings Harry for a date has this very pink, Umbridge-coded description. 

It was a cramped, steamy little place where everything seemed to have been decorated with frills or bows. Harry was reminded unpleasantly of Umbridge’s office. “Cute, isn’t it?” said Cho happily. “Er . . . yeah,” said Harry untruthfully. “Look, she’s decorated it for Valentine’s Day!” said Cho, indicating a number of golden cherubs that were hovering over each of the small, circular tables, occasionally throwing pink confetti over the occupants.

Fleur Delacour: “[her wand] emitted a number of pink and gold sparks.” 

(Also not quite a villain, and I adore Fleur BUT… she’s written hyper-femme in an intimidating, borderline threatening way. She’s very opinionated, bordering on rude. She’s “full of herself” as Ginny puts it. And when she gets engaged to Bill and becomes an unambiguously good guy, she has this interesting moment of ~Pink Rejection~)

“. . . Bill and I ’ave almost decided on only two bridesmaids, Ginny and Gabrielle will look very sweet togezzer. I am theenking of dressing zem in pale gold — pink would of course be ’orrible with Ginny’s ’air —”

Hermione Granger: “Wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown”

(Hermione wears pink exactly one time, and it is at her most villainous… during Book 1, when she tries to stop Harry and Ron leaving in the middle of the night to go duel Malfoy.)

A voice spoke from the chair nearest them, “I can’t believe you’re going to do this, Harry.” A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown. “You!” said Ron furiously. “Go back to bed!” “I almost told your brother,” Hermione snapped, “Percy — he’s a prefect, he’d put a stop to this.” Harry couldn’t believe anyone could be so interfering.

(She literally does the sitting-in-the-dark, villain-lamp thing. Also, in case you were wondering, yes Hermione DOES get a moment of ~Pink Rejection~)

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of excited girls was giggling enthusiastically. Hermione and Ginny both hung back, looking wary.

Which brings us too: 

PINK = SILLY/FRIVOLOUS (FEMME) 

Sybill Trelawney: “after you’ve broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue-patterned ones? I’m rather attached to the pink.”

(She’s a fraud. Also hides empty bottles of sherry in the room of requirement. (I’m going to have to be uncharitable in this section, so am sorry.) 

Parvati Patil: “robes of shocking pink"

(Often described as “giggling,” thinks Professor Trelawney is amazing, the real deal.)

The Fat Lady: “a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.” 

(Often described as giggling. Drinks too much during the holidays. JRK is unfortunately well known for being fatphobic. Also the Fat Lady has a friend named Violet, and Parvati has a friend named Lavender. Not really going anywhere with that, just funny that they’re both shades of purple.)

Hepzibah Smith: “an immensely fat old lady wearing an elaborate ginger wig and a brilliant pink set of robes.” 

(So… almost identical description to the Fat Lady. And I think we should maybe talk about her more, maybe? Because the way she’s framed… I think she might be Tom Riddle’s sugar mamma?)

“I brought you flowers,” he said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere. “You naughty boy, you shouldn’t have!” squealed old Hepzibah, though Harry noticed that she had an empty vase standing ready on the nearest little table. “You do spoil this old lady, Tom. . . .” 

(Or maybe we… shouldn’t talk about that. Either way, Tom Riddle does kill her, steal her stuff, and frame her house elf so thats… not great.)

PINK = EMBARRASSING 

“Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,” said Professor Sprout. There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn’t pink and fluffy.

(Pink fluffy earmuffs are adorable.)

“Wash out your mouth,” said James coldly. “Scourgify!” Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape’s mouth at once; the froth was covering his lips, making him gag.

(The next two example are 'pranks' as well, I think the pink-colored soap is there to add a kind of insult to injury.)

Shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers. 

(This is a bit from Fred and George’s farewell firework show, it's funny that they’re specifically pink fireworks that Umbridge can’t get rid of.)

“Headless Hats!” shouted George, as Fred waved a pointed hat decorated with a fluffy pink feather at the watching students. “Two Galleons each — watch Fred, now!” Fred swept the hat onto his head, beaming. For a second he merely looked rather stupid, then both hat and head vanished.

(also just, pumping up an embarrassing moment)

PINK = OUTSIDER, WEIRDO

Hagrid

Hagrid’s flowered pink umbrella, which contains his broken wand, is brought up a lot. In this case I think we’re meant to see it as a joke. Hagrid’s so big, and so masc, but the pink umbrella makes him non-threatening. However… the pink umbrella, it’s not a totally positive thing, is it? It doesn’t match, it isn’t *him.* Hagrid wouldn't have chosen to carry this around, totally on his own, if he'd had any other choice. It sets him apart, both visually and socially (because it's a constant reminder that he doesn't have a wand.)

Dobby

Dobby, once he is freed, gets pink-and-orange striped socks, and they’re meant to communicate that he’s… kind of a lot. “Yeh get weirdos in every breed,” as Hagrid puts it. JKR has a very strange, honestly antagonistic relationship with Dobby. He’s the victim of book 2, but structurally kind of the villain? He describes the house-elves situation as “enslavement,” but Hermione’s treated as overdramatic for calling house-elves slaves two books later. And then everything is ret-conned and Dobby is… just kind of weird for liking freedom (and socks) as much as he does.

Tonks

Book!Tonks defaults to “bubblegum-pink” hair. Her hair is described as pink a lot. (Movie!Tonks defaults to purple hair, because they were worried that pink would visually align her with Umbridge.) And this is the oddest one on the list to me, because Tonks is such a universally beloved, fan favorite character. But I really do think that *as written*... we’re supposed to put her in a category with Dobby. The two of them leave (unintentional) destruction in their wake. They’re loud, they’re a lot, they take up too much space. Harry thinks they’re both kind of annoying. (and yeah, Harry 100% thinks  Tonks is “a little annoying at times.”)

[pinksturniolo]

The Candy Room

A blurb from the Switch universe... spooky edition

warnings: mattxreaderxchris [no incest tf], BDSM, smut, bondage with silk, rough sex, creampie, unprotected sex, roleplay, halloween

a/n: happy halloween!! i highly suggest you read the previous parts. each room has a different kind of style and the story associated with that particular room is written with a different tone, so for more descriptions of each room, please check out the other parts :) masterlist here

the red room ✔︎

the star room ✔︎

the candy room ✔︎ (now viewing)

the flower room ◷…

Red latex, leather and lace, glitter and gore. Spooky and sexy costumes adorn the crowd of people in the club tonight. Couples mingle in the hallway, their wandering hands unashamed. First timers linger by the entrance door, hesitant to wonder further inside. The music pulses and bodies move fluidly, the holiday providing an influx of regulars and newcomers curious to see what the buzz was all about.

Amongst the ambience and crowd, you wait patiently in the candy room. Tonight, blue neon lights bathed the room, making the red painted walls purple. The large king-size bed with black silk sheets rests in its place in the middle of the room and you sit in a decorative wooden chair in front of it. Matt told you to sit here and wait for him, which was about 15 minutes ago and you’re starting to get antsy.

Suddenly, you feel a soft touch on the back of your neck as he walks in from behind you.

"Where's Chris?" you asked quietly, Matt standing in front of you now as you sit on the chair. His hand trails down the fabric of your button-up shirt, softly at first and then he rips the front open, feeling the tight corset you wear beneath it. He stares at your chest, smoothing his hand over the material.

You flinched as he ripped it open harshly and he smirks at the rapid rate of your heartbeat, your breath coming out slightly shaky. "Why are you so nervous?" he asks, ignoring your question. The weight of his body hovers over you as he leans his head down, nose nudging your jaw, so you tilt your head, allowing him access to the soft flesh of your neck.

Once you feel the warmth of his lips press against your skin, you squeeze your thighs together in your tight skirt and stockings, scoffing at his question. "Because I have no idea what you guys are up to..." you answer, and his tongue soothes the love bites he's placing on your neck. "Be patient please." he warns.

Now his rough hands are gripping the tops of your thighs, hard enough to make you wince and he kneels down in front of you, pushing your skirt up suddenly and yanking your stockings down so forcefully that they tear. "Matt." you hiss, your tone bathed with annoyance as you glare down at him, on his knees below you. You feel furious from the teasing he's tortured you with so far tonight, and the destroying of yet another article of your clothing but the excitement that runs through you is hard to deny. And the wetness between your legs confirms just how much this turns you on.

A jolt of fear is added to your conflicting emotions as you suddenly spot Chris over Matt's shoulders, in the far end of the room. You gasp out loud, not expecting to see him there. And… he's wearing a ghost face mask?

Okay, this was definitely the last thing you expected.

But he looks so hot.

You start to wonder if he was there the whole time.

Matt chuckles, clearly amused by your shock. He's kissing and licking at your bare thighs, inching closer to your core as he takes one of your legs and wraps it around his large shoulder. Spreading you open so you’re fully accessible to him.

“Happy Halloween baby. Don’t worry, just do exactly what I say and we’re gonna take good care of you…”

He pulls your panties to the side, dipping his tongue into your folds while his other hand runs up the side of your thigh, caressing your knee that rests upon his shoulder. You moan out, and trail your eyes back up to Chris, who watches you squirm in your seat. It scares you, the way he looks in the dark corner of the room, but the adrenaline pumps through your body and you grow impossibly wetter, the sound of it amplified by Matt’s mouth making an absolute mess between your legs.

He groans, his warm breath fanning over your core, and the scruff of his beard on you makes your legs shake around his head. You want to tangle your fingers in his hair, pull on the roots like he likes, but your hands are bound behind your back, the silk straining against your wrists.

It was his only rule for tonight.

“I wanna take it easy on you tonight. Let Chris take care of you… this is my only condition.” He holds up the bondage silk in his hand, eyebrows raised. “You’re not allowed to touch. Hands get tied behind your back.” You agreed of course, and Matt swiftly did just that, tying them tightly behind you and leaving you to patiently wait for him in the chair.

It was hard to be restricted. You wanted to feel, to hold, to touch. And Matt knew that. But he also knew that frustration was a turn on for you, it turned into excitement. That was the core of BDSM. Pain and pleasure all mixed into one.

Matt slaps the outside of your thigh, signaling for you to stop moving so much. You whimper but obey, relaxing your arms behind you. Your try to calm your breathing but he’s going in circles around your clit, and sucking, then dips into your dripping hole again, repeating the motion several times. “Fuck, Matt!” You’re barely hanging on by a thread when he stops, pulling you up from the chair and placing you on the bed, positioning you on the end.

Before you can start whining, he grabs your jaw harshly, staring darkly down at you. He wipes his mouth with his other hand, licking your juices off his fingers. “You gonna be good for Chris? Hm? Or do I need to cover that pretty mouth of yours too?” He asks and you shake your head no. “I’ll be good, Matt. Promise.” Pleased with your answer, he removes his grip from your jaw and crawls onto the mattress behind you, letting you rest against his chest. He holds your arms firmly, securing you as you finally see Chris appear in front of you, stopping at the end of the bed, the mask still on his face.

He doesn’t say a word, but his presence is strong, and when he reaches out to pull your panties down your legs and off of your body, your pulse quickens again. He spreads his firm hands up along your thighs squeezing at your hips before tugging you closer to him and you feel his hardness press against you. He pulls his cock out, teasing your entrance. You can see the muscles of his neck and underside of his jaw and can tell he’s gritting his teeth. You can hear his sharp breaths and know that Chris is just as eager as you are. He swipes the tip of himself through your wetness before prodding at your hole again, teasing you.

 You gasp from his movements, but Matt keeps his grip on you, scooting closer and wrapping his arm around your torso. He’s completely untied your corset so now there’s nothing but naked skin between you and the two of them.

His breath is against your ear, whispering sweet words. “Shh, ‘s okay princess. Relax. He’s gonna make you feel good…” He tugs lightly on the silk around your wrists, his other hand cupping your right breast, rolling his thumb over your nipple. He kisses your neck softly. “Be as loud as you want. I got you.”

Chris can’t wait any longer. The sight of you restrained below him, your legs wide open just for him, is driving him insane. He pushes himself inside you, stretching you out, and his name rolls off your tongue. You can’t see it, but underneath the mask, his face is contorted in pleasure, his lips parted as he breathes out.

You moan loudly, throwing your head back against Matt. Between his words of encouragement in your ear and Chris’s thrusts quickly picking up the pace, you’re in a state of euphoria. You jolt against Matt as he gets rougher, hitting a spot deep inside of you. And then Matt wraps a delicate hand around your throat, making you see stars.

Chris is buried inside you, mesmerized by the way he slips in and out of you. You look up at him and see the sight of the mask on his face and the veins in his arms pop out as he holds your legs around his waist. “Fuck, I’m-I’m- “you struggle to get the words out but you’re already close.

“What was that? I can’t understand you darlin’. You wanna cum already?” Matt says, releasing some of the light pressure he has on your neck, placing it again on the restraint of your hands behind you. You nod, unable to form words. Chris is playing with your clit now, an unseen smirk that you just know is spread across his face. He’s fucked you dumb, and he loves it.

“Aww, you like it that much baby? Does it feel good? You like getting fucked like this?” Matt continues and all you can do is whimper in response. You’re a shaking mess and all you need now is Matt’s permission.

Chris groans as you squeeze around him, your little cries only bringing him closer to his own release. “Please, Matt. Please… ‘so good, feels so good.”

He hums, sticking his fingers in your mouth so he can stop your whining. “Alright, go ‘head. Let go, love.”

As you suck on Matt’s fingers, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes from the intensity, you cum around Chris’s throbbing dick, waves of pleasure rolling through you.

“There you go… that’s my good fucking girl.” Matt reassures you, untying the silk from your wrists and soothing your skin, while Chris releases inside you, his thrusts becoming sloppy. He comes to a stop after you’ve both rode out your high, pushing the mask back, his hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead.

As much as the roleplay turned you on, the sight of his face, fucked out and cheeks colored a pinkish tint, has your heart skipping another beat. He kneels down, still holding your thighs open and uses his fingers to push his cum back inside you that leaks out, his eyes locked on you.

“Holy shit baby… you’re so fucking sexy…” He praises. “Give me that silk rope Matt. I’m not done with her yet.”

taglist!! <3

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @christhopersturniolo @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @inveigledvex @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @eryismum @sturncakez @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @mattscoquette @jnkvivi @h3arts4harry @chrizznmetswife @bambi-slxt @streamermattsgf @mattspolitank @certifiedstarrr @fratbrochrisgf

[brucewaynehater101]

There's Titans Tower but Tim decides to go ahead and set up a Young Justice base as well since someone (it was Jason) ruined his ability to feel safe there and since so many people have the ability to interfere with the security settings of Titan's Tower. Also Damian and his little friends are starting to spend more time there and while Kon doesn't mind spending time with Jon, there is still a significant age gap between Tim's group and Damian's group and neither is interested in one side acting as babysitter for the other. Thus, Tim sets up Young Justice Base. It is a little bubble dome under water somewhere between Atlantis and Themyscira. They have a robot who does the dishes and light cleaning of common areas. Tim calls the robot Mrs. Mac. Cassie calls it Rosie (Jetsons). Kon goes with Rosie Mac to placate them both. Bart goes with BB (for Better than Braniac). Rosie BB Mac is not an advanced AI, she's a tiny bit more advanced than the average roomba. She does, on occasion, have to be pushed out of corners where she's gotten stuck. Bart has to be stopped from taping a knife to her. Bart rips off casinos to help fund the base. Kon goes and mines some asteroids for minerals to sell and use as building materials his part of the funding. Cassie convinces Hippolyta to led them some Amazons to help with the construction. The base may or may not have a blessing from Amphitrite and Hestia. Tim can finally have a place where he feels safe to sleep. Kon and Bart have a place that is their home where they don't feel like they're infringing on the hospitality of someone who feels obligated to them for things that aren't their fault. Cassie has a place where she can stretch and not feel confined or burdened by other's expectations. Anita, Cissie, and Greta absolutely visit. Anita brings the kids. They now have a safe place to retreat to just in case of an emergency. The kids love seeing the fish swim by and think it's just a really cool aquarium.

and if this is the Space Emperor AU then this is where Cassie stores all her ugly dishes with the team's faces on them and where the others on the team store theirs as well. If any of them go missing or get broken then there's a much smaller list of suspects for her to interrogate than if she were to keep them with her mom. Fewer questions as well for any of them to deal with.

Gods, I love underwater bases. Bioshock was a hella fun game to play because it was an underwater city. I've also tried to make a ton of Minecraft bases in the ocean.

Anyways, YJ deserves their own place that isn't associated with anyone else. They deserve either a brand new construction (like this) or a renovated one they found themselves (instead of it being an old space from other heroes). I'd live for the fluff of them slowly making the place theirs (from the weird paintings they hang up, the curtains they bicker over, the plethora of photos of loved ones, the random trinkets each one brings to decorate, etc). This is their home, and they should be able to make it fit them.

I'd also want to see some of the hurt/comfort of Tim finally losing that little bit of tension he never noticed he carries (since he's finally safe. He will be safe. No one can hurt him here).

Kon doesn't have to put on a persona. He's able to relax and simply exist.

Cassie catches herself just watching her friends with a fond smile on her face. She can't get enough of them just being around and being okay.

Bart doesn't have to try to fit himself into what others want him to be. YJ accepts him as he is, no matter what he does or how he acts.

[risriswrites]

Just Roommates

summary: a series of moments between bradley bradshaw and his roommate that prove they're a little more than "just roommates"

pairing: roommate x bradley bradshaw, fem reader

warnings: none, just some mild language and lots of fluff

author's note: this is my second fic and i just wanted to say thank you all for the love on the first one! it made my heart happy :) likes, comments, and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated!

word count: 9.1k

“Okay but hear me out. What if we painted the living room wall a pale green?” you question, gesturing to the beige wall directly across from you with a spoon, that was once being used for your bowl of cereal; which had been discarded five minutes prior in favor of the sudden inspiration to revamp the living room.

Tilting your head to the side you allow your eyes to wander the length of the wall before adding, “Not like a pastel green but more like a sage green. I think it’d compliment the couch…and the wood floors.”

Bradley was leaning in the doorframe of the hallway that led to your separate bedrooms, arms crossed over themselves and letting his eyes trail over the way you’ve perched yourself onto the granite kitchen island, one leg crossed over the other.

It was a Saturday morning, so it didn’t surprise him that you’d foregone pants and settled on an oversized t-shirt, really short shorts, and fuzzy socks. You always complained about how you couldn’t sleep if it was too hot, so he made sure to keep the thermostat at a comfortable 70 degrees, but as soon as you woke up, you’d be freezing and needed socks to keep your feet warm. He’d never understand it.

Dragging his eyes away from you he lazily glanced at the wall of the living room. Honestly, he was fine with the way it was, but he wasn’t an interior decorator, so his opinion didn’t really count for anything in the name of “design”.

“I don’t think it really matters” he shrugs, letting his eyes wander back over to you. Your hair was still a little messy from sleeping, but in way he found oddly, cute.

A huff slips past your lips as you slide off the counter and move to wash the bowl you’d been using, “Bradley, the apartment could use a little bit of color. It’s kind of bland in here,” you grimace, sparing him a quick glance before resuming your assault on the navy-blue bowl.

Sighing, Bradley pushes himself off the doorframe in favor of moving to the granite island you’d been sitting on a few moments ago, “Well, you pay for half of the apartment, so whatever you think will make the place look decent that’s up to you.”

“That’s not how decisions work between roommates, Bradley. We have to both agree with it,” you mutter.

Shaking your head you force a breath out, “Look, we can talk about it later if you want, it’s not a big deal. We can always meet in the middle and bring in a plant or something instead? You keep the neutrality of the apartment, and I can have some greenery to look at.” you negotiate, all while wiping your hands on the hand towel hanging across the bar of the oven, shooting him an awkward smile, doing your best to not glance at his naked chest.

He forces his own smile back at you and nods his head the tiniest bit to let you know he’d think about it.

With that conversation ending you decide to leave Bradley to his thoughts in favor of snuggling into the couch for some warmth and an excuse to binge watch “The Witcher”.

You and Bradley had been living together for a little over a month, having been introduced to each other through your friend Jamie.

Jamie was a landing signal officer for the navy that you had met while you were in college. He was just getting his associates degree to pass the time while he worked on achieving all of the necessary credentials to start training in the navy, and once he graduated, was stationed out in Miramar. He had worked alongside Bradley during a few different missions and had kept in contact with him over the past few years. The two were close enough that Bradley valued Jamie’s feedback and opinion, so when Bradley came to him with his roommate dilemma, he knew the perfect person to recommend.

Based on your first meeting alone you liked Bradley. He was well mannered, reserved, and yet, still had a certain rugged charm to him. And now you were here, laying on the gray couch you had convinced Bradley would look perfect in the small living space, snuggled under a knitted blanket from your grandma, as Bradley fixed himself a cup of coffee.

“I’m going to go out for a run in ten minutes, do you need anything while I’m out?” Bradley called out to you.

You tilted your head back to look at him from the throw pillow you were currently laying on, “No thanks I’m good,” you smiled, quickly turning back to your show, successfully avoiding gawking at your roommate as he maneuvered around your shared kitchen.

Ten minutes came and went, and you never heard Bradley leave the house. Crinkling your eyebrows, you sit up from your spot on the couch and peer back into the kitchen to check if Bradley had snuck out without you noticing. Only to see him sat on a barstool at the kitchen island, one arm leaning on the long piece of granite and the other holding his coffee mug in his hand, casually sipping at the hot beverage while his eyes were glued to the tv screen.

A smirk grows on your lips, “Going for a run, huh?”

Bradley’s gaze breaks from the tv screen and snaps to you, his eyebrows pinching together as he shoots you a playful glare, mumbling into his mug, “I’m about to leave.”

“Sure, you are” you snort.

Silence ensues as you continue to smirk at him and he glares at you, before finally he breaks.

“Alright fine,” he huffs, “One episode, and then I’m going for a run.”

You turn back to the tv with a knowing smile on your face before getting comfortable under your blanket again.

Bradley stays put at the kitchen island for the next episode, but once you’ve started the second, he’s gravitated to sitting on the arm of the couch.

You glance over at him every now and then, smirk growing larger with every minute he continues to sit and not leave to go for his run, too enraptured in the show currently playing on your shared tv screen.

Grasping the remote in your hand you pause the show, turning you head and quirking an eyebrow at him, “Soo…still going for that run?”

Bradley huffs and throws his head back groaning, “I need to.”

You stay in your position allowing yourself to let your gaze roll over the scars that litter his neck and along his cheek. Seeing the war waging on in his brain you decide to make it easy for him, “How about you go on that run, and I’ll just pause it until you get back? It’s on Netflix so it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.” You smile.

Bradley turns to face you, moving his arms behind him to rest on the couch, further exposing his naked chest, “You sure? I don’t wanna make you wait to finish the episode.”

You push aside any thoughts about how hot he looks right now and instead focus on his honey brown eyes, letting your smile turn into an easy smirk, “I’ll be okay Bradshaw, I’m a big girl I can wait one hour for you to finish your run.”

Bradley raises an eyebrow while leaning towards you a little bit, letting his tongue poke out to swipe across his lips before he fixes you with a sarcastic smile of his own, “Sweetheart, it’s cute you think that it’s gonna take me that longto go on a three-mile run.”

And with that statement being put out in the air, he’s moving off the couch and heading towards the door, passing the water bottle he set out earlier.

Momentarily dazed from his proximity, you regain your train of thought and call after him, “Have fun show off!”

“Don’t start that episode until I get back sweetheart!” he yells, pointing a finger back in your direction, letting the door swing closed behind him.

A snort escapes you as you take to scrolling through your phone, waiting for Bradley to come back.

And exactly twenty minutes after you last saw him; not that you were counting, Bradley strolls back inside, a sheen of sweet glistening from his chest and abs as he strides towards the water sitting on the island.

Having looked up at his arrival, you quickly force yourself to look back down, cursing under your breath at how heaven sent he looks right now.

As Bradley is unscrewing the cap from his water bottle, he glances towards you propped up on the couch scrolling through the many apps you have on your phone before he slides his gaze to the tv, smiling to himself when he sees that you’ve kept your promise in keeping the show paused.

Allowing himself a few gulps of water, he sets the bottle back on the island and turns his attention back to you, “You mind keeping it paused for a little longer? I need a shower.”

You keep your eyes glued to your phone screen, “Don’t need to ask Bradshaw, I’d rather not have you tainting our clean couch with your sweat.” You snicker, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

He just shakes his head and smiles as he sets off towards the bathroom.

Another ten short minutes had passed before Bradley saunters back into your shared living space freshly showered and wearing a pair of gray sweatpants.

You stare for all of five seconds before becoming conscious of what you’re doing and move to grab the remote that’s been lying dormant on the side table for the past thirty-five minutes, eager to distract yourself from allowing him to take up any further space in your mind.

Bradley, however, has other plans and is picking your legs up off the couch and maneuvering himself under them in order to sit, bringing them back down and settling them in his lap, unknowingly regaining your attention.

Said attention being specifically on his right hand that is currently resting on top of your left leg, allowing a warmth to settle where his hand is, and traveling up through the rest of your body, a flush no doubt currently on your cheeks. Giving your head a small shake, you press play on the remote before forcing yourself to relax into the throw pillow and focus on Geralt arguing with Jaskier.

He's your roommate.

You’re very attractive roommate, but your roommate, nevertheless. And reminding yourself of that fact helps you stay focused on the show before the two of you part ways a few hours later.

He’s your roommate. Nothing’s going to happen.

~

“Pretty sure this is the kinda injury you go to the hospital for, Bradshaw. Not your very unqualified roommate and a first aid kit” You grimace.

Bradley was currently sitting on the toilet seat of your shared bathroom; after what you can imagine was another interesting night at the hard deck, in his typical white tank and Hawaiian button-down combo while you stood in between his jean clad legs, attempting to control the bleeding above his eyebrow.

“I’m serious you might need stitches,” you grunt, grabbing some more gauze and pushing it against the laceration.

Bradley snorts, “I wouldn’t say you’re completely unqualified if you’re gonna stand there and say I need stitches.”

You roll your eyes at the statement and resist the urge to smack him, “Anyone with half a brain can deduce that you need stitches, doesn’t take someone with a degree to know that.”

“So, you’re saying you’re perfect for the job, since you don’t need a degree? That’s perfect, thanks sweetheart,” comes the reply of a grinning Bradley.

A huff escapes past your lips as you mutter out, “You’re impossible”.

Your eyes examine the items from the first-aid kit that are currently scattered across the countertop, landing on a small box that says, “butterfly wound closures”. You light up at your luck before ordering Bradley to keep pressure on the gauze you’ve been holding as you move to get the much-needed bandages.

Once you’ve grabbed two or three bandages from the box, you push Bradley’s hand off the gauze and slowly peel it back to check on the bleeding. Luckily, it’s stopped now, and you can focus on closing the wound.

Grabbing a square packet with the words, “alcohol pad” on it, you rip open the packaging and take out the small piece of moist fabric, before sucking in a breath. Just knowing how much this could burn against Bradley’s wound has you wincing and hesitating to clean the area around it. “This might sting a little if I get to close, so try to stay still” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady as you start wiping around the wound. “How’d this happen anyway?” you question, attempting to distract him from any pain he might be feeling.

Bradley watches your face as you begin to wipe away at the dried blood above his eyebrow, nose scrunched, eyebrows pinched, and eyes focused on his wound. It’s endearing, how seriously you’re taking this.

“Some guy kept bothering Phoenix, she can usually handle guys like that on her own, but this one just wouldn’t take no for an answer. I stepped in to help escort him out of the hard deck with Hangman when the guy swung on me. It’s not a big deal.” He sighed.

You forced out a chuckle at his response, “I wouldn’t say that. Not when you’re coming home with blood rushing down your face”.

Bradley clocked the skip in his heart at the word “home” coming from your lips.

Ignoring that thought he rasped out, “Yeah well, better me than Phoenix. Plus, he definitely looks worse than me, I can guarantee you that, sweetheart.”

And just when you were about to retort back, you made the mistake of brushing the alcohol pad too close to his open wound.

Bradley’s eyes instantly force themselves shut, reaching out to grip your legs as he inhales sharply.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry Bradley” you apologize, moving your hands to hold his head in place. And before you even register what you’re doing you’re blowing air on his wound, applying the same knowledge you have with the reaction between small cuts and hand sanitizer to this scenario.

Bradley slowly let out the breath he’d been holding, muttering out an, “It’s fine sweets,” allowing his body to relax again.

Discarding the alcohol wipe, you quickly grab the bandages you set out, unwrapping them at a swift pace before moving to place them one by one over Bradley’s cut. Gingerly, you smooth your thumb over the last bandage, securing it in place on Bradley’s sun-kissed skin.

“Okay” you let out a breath, “You’re all set to be a hero again” you smile softly. “Don’t get into the habit of getting into fights with drunk men.” You warned, moving your right hand to squeeze his shoulder.

Bradley’s eyes flutter open meeting your soft gaze, and he can’t help but to let one side of his mouth quirk up into a smirk, “I make no promises sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes at his confession you take a step back from him, forcing his hands to drop from your thighs, “You think you can manage putting everything back in the first-aid kit, show off? Or do you need my help with that too?” you smirk.

Bradley scoffs, pushing himself off the toilet to tower above you, “I got it,” he jests, light blue Hawaiian shirt swaying at the speed he moved from the toilet.

With the smirk still playing on your lips you back out of the bathroom, rounding the corner completely before calling out to him, “good to know you’re not completely helpless, Bradshaw!”

~

It’s been almost a year since you and Bradley started living together and somehow, he’s managed to supply endless excuses as to why dagger squad wasn’t able to meet his roommate. No one was more frustrated about the lack of an introduction than Phoenix, as Bradley’s closest friend she was a little pissed and mildly offended at the realization.

So, after some choice words between Phoenix and Bradley and the occasional nagging from Hangman, Bradley folded and told the duo that he’d talk to you about inviting them over for dinner.

Dragging his feet, Bradley opened the door to your shared apartment, taking in the smell of the lavender essential oil you had diffusing in the entryway.

Bradley faintly remembers you educating him on the effectiveness of essential oils when it comes to mental and physical health, and how lavender was best for promoting sleep and relaxation. Something you learned from your “stress management” class in college. It’s funny how that knowledge has him instantly relaxing once he’s stepped into the apartment; or maybe it was just knowing you occupied the same space as him.

“Honey I’m home!” Bradley calls out, tone light and playful.

He rounds the corner to see you propped up on the couch, book in your lap as you glance up at his loud and flashy entrance.

Quirking a brow at the flight suit currently tied around his waist, you watch him move one arm above his head to lean against the doorway, black fitted tee straining as he makes himself comfortable. You shoot him a playful smile, “Have a good day, sweetheart?”

Bradley lets a smirk grace his lips as he watches you, “I’ve had better.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention downwards towards the book in your lap, “Well there’s always tomorrow” you reasoned.

Bradley allows himself to take in your appearance, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he watches a strand of hair fall in your face. He decides then and there that the matching green sports bra and spandex shorts set is his new favorite outfit that you own and there’s definitely gotta be some rule about inappropriate thoughts about your roommate that he’s ninety-nine percent sure he’s breaking.

Breaking his gaze from you he moves to the kitchen, focusing on fixing himself a glass of water when he remembers Phoenix’s words from earlier.

Meandering around the kitchen for a few more seconds he decides to just throw it out there.

“Hey sweetheart, are you okay with a few members from my squad coming by the apartment?”

Hearing his voice echoing through the kitchen into the living room, you allow his words to sit for a second, letting them mull over in your head until you decide to answer him with a, “why not? The more the merrier,” and glance back down to continue reading the murder mystery you’d been attempting to finish for the past few days.

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding; Bradley smiles softly at your focused expression before grabbing his phone and shooting a group text to Phoenix and Hangman to let them know they could swing by later this week.

Only putting his phone down when he got a thumbs up from Hangman, and an enthused text from Nat telling him to send the details when he can, allowing himself to refocus back onto the girl currently sat on the gray couch, with an impressive number of throw pillows surrounding her, and a book he’s never heard of before in her hands.

Smiling quietly to himself, he runs a hand through his curls and decides to head to the bathroom to shower, already hearing you in his mind telling him how you don’t want the smell of jet fuel on the couch.

Once he’s finished, he throws on an old Navy tee and gray sweatpants, heading back into the living room to try and persuade you to put down your book and watch a few episodes of “The Witcher” with him instead.

Maneuvering himself around the coffee table and onto the couch, he quickly grabs your legs and props them onto his lap and shoots you a wide smile.

Peering over the top of your book you fix your gaze on his honey-brown irises and quirk an eyebrow at his disruptive actions.

Bradley nods his head to the tv in a silent question, and you hide the growing smile on your face behind the book you’ve had your nose in for the better part of the last few hours. “Bradshaw, can’t you see I’m reading?” you challenged, quirking an eyebrow up at the man sitting in front of you, puppy-dog eyes on full display.

He nods, “I see that, and I raise you with a much more interesting proposition.”

Lowering your book just a tad, you tilt your head to the side and scoff, “Oh really, and what might that be?”

Bradley bites his bottom lip before shooting you a dazzling smile, “You, me, and at least three episodes of ‘The Witcher’, accompanied by pizza and wings, if you’re into that kinda thing?”

You hum at his idea and look up in thought, biting the bottom of your own lip in the process, “I don’t know Bradshaw, this book is really starting to get good, and I’ve been wanting to finish it for like, a week now” you exaggerate.

He gives you ten seconds, and then he’s reaching across the couch to swipe the book from your hands tossing it behind him, earning a surprised shriek from you.

“What book?” he smiles again, beaming from ear to ear.

Not able to contain your own smile, you let out a soft laugh, “Go order the pizza, show off.”

Bradley stands, sending you a mock salute as he makes his way to his phone.

“Oh! And I want a Hawaiian pizza Bradshaw!” you call out.

Bradley scrunches his face in disgust at the thought of pineapple on pizza, turning back to you phone now up to his ear as he waits for the line to connect, “Still can’t believe you like pineapple on pizza, it’s a crime.”

“It’s really not!”

Pushing yourself up onto the arm of the couch, you bring your knees to sit underneath you, using your hands for emphasis as you argue the point of how perfect the sweetness of the pineapple compliments the saltiness of the pizza, and all Bradley can do is roll his eyes and smile at how enthusiastic you are. And despite him not agreeing with you, he orders the pizza for you anyway. Moving back to his spot on the couch once he’s placed the order and grabs ahold of your left leg, massaging it as you continue to rant about the different universally accepted sweet and salty combinations.

Once the pizza has been delivered, the two of you spread the small feast across the coffee table, as you start the second season of “The Witcher”.

Every now and then Bradley will make a small comment that makes you laugh, distracting you long enough that you’d have to rewind the show every few minutes to make sure you caught everything. And Bradley would just smile in return, taking pleasure in knowing that he’s the one making you laugh.

Once the pair of you have gotten through the third episode, you exit out of the Netflix app and turn the tv off, and before you can make a move from the couch, Bradley brings up the topic of his friends again and you tell him Friday at six should be good for you.

Sending him a small smile you slide your legs out of his grip and stand from the couch, bringing the leftover pizza with you and placing it in the fridge, Bradley close behind you with the wings. Once everything is put away, the two of you exchange “goodnights” and part ways to your separate rooms, lingering looks, and fond smiles left in the shadows of the dark.

Two Days Later

Friday comes quickly, work having been overwhelming and taking up most of your limited time. The time you normally are reading or hanging out with Bradley is almost nonexistent.

Once you’ve made it back to the apartment you make a beeline for the bathroom to wash off the day. Letting yourself linger under the hot water long after you completed your routine, forcing yourself to turn the water off, step out of the shower, and dry off.

Remembering that Bradley invited his friends to come by tonight, you curse under your breath, wrapping the towel around your body and swinging the bathroom door open, stepping out into the hallway, only to crash into a hard chest.

“Shit” you mumble, scrambling backwards towards the bathroom.

Looking up you make eye contact with Bradley, who’s sporting his black tee and flight suit attire from his day working at the naval base. Gulping you tighten the towel around your body, squeaking out a “sorry” as you try to look past his eyes towards your bedroom door.

Bradley ignores the urge to look down past your eyes, willing himself to think of anything other than your naked body, and shuffles back a few steps to let you past.

You take that as your opportunity to scurry to your room in an attempt at avoiding any more awkward moments for the night. Deciding to throw your thoughts into what outfit you’re going to wear instead of the recent interaction between you and Bradley. Coming up with jean shorts, a white t-shirt, and white socks, you give yourself a onceover in your floor-length mirror and nod at your reflection, leaving the safe space of your room to wander around the kitchen.

Since you and Bradley had ordered pizza earlier on this week, you take it upon yourself to order takeout from the local Chinese restaurant. Not having been able to go out and grab groceries to prepare for tonight’s dinner, ordering Chinese seemed better than ordering pizza for a second time.

The bathroom door opening signals to you that Bradley’s finished showering, almost like a warning of his inevitable presence.

Busying yourself with tidying up the living room, you don’t notice him walk out of the hallway, too focused on how to lay your grandma’s knitted throw blanket over the couch.

Bradley lets out a breath, closing his eyes and wills himself to forget about your moment in the hallway, instead choosing to put his shoes in a more orderly fashion by the front door, and switching the diffuser on as he passes it, the smell of lavender quickly flooding his senses and bringing him back to thoughts that all involve you in nothing but a towel.

Shaking his head, he forces the image of your wide eyes, wet hair, and glowing skin from his mind and moves back to the kitchen to unload the dishwasher.

You finally take notice of him and send him a shy smile. He sends you one back and breaks the silence by asking about your day at work.

Thankful for the distraction, the awkward tension dissipates and the two of you fall into easy conversation until three sharp knocks come from the door.

Looking to Bradley he sends a reassuring smile your way before going to answer the door. The sound of two voices arguing back and forth hit your ears and you instantly smile and let out a small laugh at the loud, “Bagman I swear, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to sew it shut with the next toothpick I can find.”

Composing yourself quickly, you tuck a stray hair behind your ear while you sit at the kitchen island, only standing when a woman with shoulder-length black hair and chocolate brown eyes, moves around the corner.

Once Phoenix makes eye contact with you, she’s instantly grinning and coming closer to give you a polite hug, introducing herself with her callsign and then her name, telling you to call her by whichever, and settles in on the barstool next to yours.

A blond with perfectly styled hair and a smug smirk follows shortly after Phoenix and quickly scans you from head to toe, smirk deepening (if that’s even possible), Bradley right behind him with a sheepish smile on his face as he looks towards you.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” the blond drawls, he’s a little short compared to Bradley and you take note of his southern drawl, Texan maybe?

Eyes flitting from Bradley back to the blond, you let a sarcastic smile settle on your lips and hum, leaning your arm onto the counter, hand forming a fist as you rest your chin, batting your eyelashes at him, “Bagman, isn’t it?”

Nat snuffs out a laugh, hiding her smile behind her hand as she looks at you.

“Hangman, actually.”

“That’s not what I heard,” you retort back, smile staying stationary on your lips, challenging him.

“Oh, I like you,” Nat grins. “I like her” she states, turning to give Bradley a pointed look.

Hangman breaks the stare down choosing to look towards Bradley instead, “I like her too.”

Rolling your eyes at the statement you also turn to Bradley, tongue coming out to swipe across your bottom lip as you point a finger towards Hangman, “I can learn to tolerate him.”

Bradley lets out a chuckle moving to grab a set of beers from the fridge huffing out an, “We all do that, Sweets” the room erupting into laughter at the expense of Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Somehow over the course of the night you and Nat had made your way over to the couch, her sipping on a Heineken and you on a coke, leaving the boys to their own devices in the kitchen.

“So, how long did you say you’ve been roommates again?” Hangman questioned, nodding over to you, toying with the perspiration sweating off his beer bottle.

Bradley brings his beer up to his lips slowly, “About a year now, were good friends” taking a sip after he answers.

Jake hums, “And how long have you been lying to yourself about that second part?”

Bradley whips his head towards Jake, eyebrows pinching at his suggestion, “What?”

Huffing Jake turns his attention from the couch where both you and Natasha have started gossiping about some picture on your phone, back to Bradley, “Bradshaw, when’s the last time you went on a date with a girl, or even hooked up with one?”

Jake is met with silence from the naval aviator, and takes a sip from his beer, “That’s my point. You like her man.”

Bradley leans on the countertop, eyes focusing on the way your eyes light up at something Phoenix says, your giggles filling the space of your shared apartment and making him suppress a fond smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, we’re just roommates, Bagman.”

Jake watches Bradley watching you, a knowing smile breaking his smug façade, then he moves to sip at his beer, glancing back over to you and Nat, “Whatever you say Bradshaw.”

~

From the way the wind and rain were whipping against the windows of your apartment, you’d think you were dealing with a stage three hurricane, but according to the weatherman it was just a bad storm. Maybe someone should double check his certification.

Every few minutes thunder would rumble, ricocheting off your apartment complex, shaking the building, and sending you into another gathering frenzy. Moving around the apartment in a flurry, you grab the collection of candles you’ve been hoarding and any lighters you can find.

In your rush, you don’t hear Bradley enter the apartment, too busy with collecting all of the necessary items.

Bradley smiles as you pass by him, oversized tee flowing behind you, socks making you skid on the hardwood floors of your apartment as you spread the abundance of candles throughout the living space.

“What are you doing?”

A shriek escapes your lips, narrowly avoiding dropping three candles as you recompose yourself, straightening your back you let out an exasperated breath. Placing the remaining candles down onto the side table you huff, “What does it look like I’m doing?” You turn to face Bradley, who looks like he’s soaked from head to toe; he must’ve left his flight suit at the base today since he’s sporting just a black tee and his workout shorts, “I’m preparing for our inevitable demise.” You exaggerate.

Bradley chuckles at your dramatic opinion of the weather, “I don’t think fifty candles are gonna help us sweetheart.”

You give him a reprimanding look, groaning as you say, “No but they’ll help with our vision whenever the power goes out. And some of us, are afraid of the dark.”

Bradley’s smile softens at your admission and angles himself toward the foyer table, reaching into one of the drawers and pulling out the flashlight you’d been looking for. Turning to you and giving it a little wave in an effort to make you feel better.

You smile at his thoughtfulness, “I’ve been looking for that everywhere.”

Giving the flashlight a light toss, Bradley chuckles, “And looking in all the wrong spots apparently.”

Another round of thunder rattles the apartment, making you jump, eyes flashing with fear for a moment. Bradley raises his eyebrows at your reaction and sets the flashlight on the kitchen island.

“You okay?”

You turn to him, giving a small nod, “Yeah, I’m fine. Storms don’t normally bother me but this one just feels like it’s closer to a hurricane than a regular storm.”

Bradley nods at your statement, “You gonna be okay if I take a quick shower?”

Throwing your hand up nonchalantly, you wave him off, “I’ll be fine, probably gonna light a few candles and start a new book.”

His eyes wander the expansion of your face, looking for any cracks in your calm and collected façade you’re putting up. Not finding any, he rationalizes that he’ll only be gone for ten minutes tops, and can coax you into cozying up on the couch to watch another episode of “The Witcher” once he’s finished.

Shooting a reassuring smile your way he side steps out of your way to head to the shower, “I’ll be out shortly sweetheart!”

Shaking your head, you force yourself to move again throughout the apartment, huffing as you grab a case of water and set it on the island.

Standing at the entryway to your home you play with a strand of hair nervously, studying the progress you’ve made throughout the space, giving a decisive nod of approval, before heading off to your room to pick a book and grab a few extra blankets to set on the couch.

The wind has picked up even more now, making the patter of rain on the window hit with a force you thought for sure resembled hail. Shivering at the thought, you clutch your collection of blankets closer to your body and make your way back out to the living room, throwing yourself down on the couch and cuddling into your favorite throw pillow, snuggling under the blankets.

Another loud boom of thunder rattles your building, making you let out a soft whimper in response, snuggling further into the couch for comfort. In an effort to calm yourself down you reach across the cushions to grab the pink book peeking out from the collection of blankets, totally abandoned in your haste to hide from the thunder.

You thumb through the first few pages until you see the intricate curvature of the words “Chapter One” typed at the top of the page and immediately immerse yourself into another world of fiction. And within five minutes, you’ve completely forgotten about the raging storm outside, the sharp beating of the rain on the window turning into a dull thumping as your eyes scan the pages in front of you.

Bradley curses to himself at the amount of time he’s spent in the shower, quickly stepping out and drying himself off, throwing on a white tee and his favorite gray sweatpants. Hanging his towel back on his hook, he swiftly opens the door and takes long strides to the living room, reaching his hand around the hallway entrance and poking his head out to see where you’ve scurried off to.

Momentarily panicking when he doesn’t pinpoint your exact location, until his eyes zone in on your blanketed figure on the couch. A grin splits his lips, and he bites the bottom one to contain his chuckle, you’re reading that new book you were talking about, but the way you’ve huddled into the blankets reminds him of the alien from E.T. all wrapped up with only your head being visible.

Sidling up to the frame of the hallway he folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head as he calls out your name. Actually, letting out a chuckle this time when you don’t acknowledge him.

“You good over there, sweetheart?” he tries again.

This time you do look up, and his heart clenches at the sight of your wide eyes, “Shit! I’m sorry Bradley, how long have you been trying to get my attention?”

“Not long sweets, don’t worry about it.” He juts his chin towards the tv, “What do you think about a few episodes of ‘The Witcher’?”

Glancing down at your book you think about it for a second, it was starting to get interesting but you could never say no to Bradley or “Geralt of Rivia”. So you smile and push the blanket off of your head, “You know,” you clicked your tongue, “I’m starting to think you like this show way more than I do.”

Bradley scoffs, “Definitely not, I’m only suggesting it because there’s nothing else worthy of watching on that godforsaken streaming service.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “just admit it Bradshaw.”

And just as Bradley opens his mouth to give you some smart retort back, a loud crack echoes throughout the room, and the power flickers off. You suppress a scream and instead resort to a quiet whimper.

“Shit sweetheart, are you okay?” Bradley calls.

You bite down on your lower lip and close your eyes to avoid looking into the void of darkness that’s encompassed your apartment, “Not really,” you breathe out.

Bradley goes quiet for a second, trying to make the moment lighthearted in an attempt to make you feel better, “All those candles and you didn’t light any of them huh?”

An offended scoff that closely resembles a whine leaves your lips, “Seriously Bradley.”

“Hey, I’m just pointing out the obvious, sweets” Bradley teases.

“At least I thought about this happening and got us prepared,” you sputter out. “Some of us were too busy washing their mustache to care” you sneer, eyes still screwed tightly shut.

Bradley pinches his eyebrows, “Hey now, no hating on the stache.”

“Bradley I can’t see anything and it’s really loud so I’m sorry, but the feelings of your mustache are not on my list of priorities right now” You huff.

“Okay well then how about we try to find the lighter so we can actually see in here?”

“Fantastic idea Bradshaw, best one you’ve had all night,” your tone exaggerated, moving your hands to aid in pushing yourself up from the couch.

Letting out a puff of air, Bradley ignores your comment and starts using his hand to navigate through the living room, hoping he’s getting close to the couch, bumping his knee into what he thinks is the side table, letting out a low groan.

“You okay over there, showoff?” you call out, taking a few tentative steps forward.

“Yeah,” he grunts, “I’m fine.”

You nod your head in understanding and mumble out a quiet, “Okay, good.”

Bradley moves forward again, maneuvering around what he thinks is the coffee table. He can hear your shaky breaths so he’s almost a hundred percent sure he’s a few steps away from the couch.

Growing a little bolder you take two steps forward, which proves fatal as you end up tripping over what felt like a shoe, forcing you to stumble forward in an attempt to catch your footing, throwing your hands out to avoid crashing into anything, only for them to land on Bradley’s warm and hard chest.

Not quite balanced yet, you stumble forward a bit more, Bradley grabbing your wrist in hopes to help steady you, pulling you closer to him in the process.

You haven’t been able to see since the power went out, but having him this close allows you to see the outline of his face and the sparkle of his eyes, your breath hitches in your throat at your proximity and it all becomes overwhelmingly intimate.

Looking away from his profile into the darkness, you momentarily forget about the fear of the storm and instead are distracted by the very muscular, very attractive man; that is your roommate, currently holding you.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” Bradley whispers.

Closing your eyes, you turn your head and force a shaky breath out from your lips, “Yeah, just tripped over a shoe or something.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He mumbles, voice a little raspier than normal.

 Shit.

Your eyes shoot open, your head tilting back to face him, “If you’re referring to the fact that it’s darker than a black hole in here right now, then no, I’m not okay, I would really appreciate at least one of those candles being lit right about now.”

Another roll of thunder crashes into your living room, echoing along the walls and through your chest, making you press further into Bradley’s firm hold.

Closing your eyes again you huff, “I’m sorry.”

Bradley moves the hand that doesn’t have a grip on your wrist around your back, tugging you into his warm embrace, “You have nothing to be sorry for sweetheart,” he reassures, resting his chin on top of your head as he speaks.

You sigh, allowing yourself just for a moment, to enjoy how close he is right now. Just roommates you remind yourself.

“I swear I’m not usually this bad with them,” you mumble against his chest, referring to the raging storm outside.

Bradley’s chuckle rumbles through his chest, nodding his head in understanding, “Where do you think that lighter is right about now?”

“I have no idea, maybe on the island? That’s where I put the majority of stuff.” You mumble, placing your hands flat against him to aid in inching yourself away from his chest.

Bradley hums, keeping a firm grip on your wrist as he steps back slowly towards the kitchen, pulling you with him. “Okay,” he nods, “Lets focus on getting the flashlight and then the lighter. That sound okay with you?”

Feeling the way his thumb is rubbing small circles into your skin, you whisper out a “Yeah,” gulping down your nerves that are so frazzled you’re not sure if it’s from the storm, or from how tender he’s being.

Taking a few more short steps; with Bradley leading the way, the two of you eventually make it to the kitchen island. Bradley letting your hand go in favor of roaming his over the countertop, blindly searching for the flashlight while you focus on finding the lighter. After what seems like hours, Bradley announces his accomplishment and flicks the button on the metal piece of the flashlight, a beam of light hitting your pupils making you flinch and close your eyes. Bradley cursed under his breath in apology, moving the light down towards the countertop in search of the lighter, allowing you to reopen your eyes and get accustomed to the new source of light.

Eyes scanning over your pile of necessities, you spot the lighter peeking out from behind one of the candles.

“Found it,” you sigh in relief.

Bradley’s eyes pan over to you from where he’s standing, watching as you reach past an emerald, green candle that has a picture of the woods wrapped around it; the words “sandalwood” in some typewriter font scribbled at the top, and pull the lighter out of the dark and into the beam of light coming from the flashlight.

Meeting Bradley’s eyes you shoot him a soft smile, giving the lighter a little wave, “Lets light these candles.”

A soft chuckle rumbles through Bradley’s chest while he shakes his head in amusement, “Leave it to you to make a ‘The Boys’ reference.”

You smile, turning away from him as you grab the same emerald, green candle that he was just looking at, clicking the lighter on and pushing it against the wick, “It’s not my fault okay, there’s some great one-liners in there. I just so happen to be capable of altering it to fit our scenario.”

The sky rumbles shortly after your statement and has you kicking into gear, setting the newly lit candle back down onto the island and moving swiftly throughout the apartment, lighting as many candles as you can to brighten up the room, but also not enough to be a fire hazard.

Lighting the last cream-colored candle by the couch, you straighten up and turn towards the room to look at your handiwork, Bradley standing next to you doing the same as he clicks the flashlight off. A soft yellow glow has settled in different areas of the living room and kitchen, the areas surrounding it darker, the further away you get from the candles. “I think that’s good enough.” You murmur, arms crossing over themselves while you scan the space.

Bradley hums in approval, moving an arm around your shoulder and tugging you closer to him.

“What do you wanna do now sweetheart?” Bradley’s voice is soft as he asks his question, allowing his thumb to rub small circles onto your deltoid. It’s comforting.

Allowing your guard to slip, you lean further into his body, turning your head up to look at him, whispering, “Can you sit with me on the couch while I read?” Eyes flickering towards the darkness of your room before returning to his gaze, “I just don’t want to be by myself right now.” You mumble.

And for what feels like the millionth time in the past year, Bradley’s heart skips at your confession, his mouth wanting to grin at just how cute you are and pull you into his chest. Instead, however, he settles for a soft smile and a, “Anything for you sweetheart.”

Gripping your shoulder tighter, he pulls you back towards the comfort of the couch making himself comfortable as he settles into the cushions, allowing you to leave his embrace to grab your book. But once you try to sit back at the opposite end of the couch, Bradley immediately grips your wrist and tugs you back to him.

“You’re gonna end up here anyway, sweetheart, just sit with me.” He rasps out, his warm breath hitting your ear, making you shiver.

Not trusting your words, you hum in response, letting him guide you back into his chest, propping your knees up to rest your book on them as you open it, conveniently landing on the page you had last read.

Somewhere in your brain a little voice was screaming at you that this isn’t what normal roommates do, getting a little louder once Bradley hooked his left arm around your waist, but an even louder voice was telling you just to enjoy it while you could. And in the end, what did it matter anyway? You were going to read and the two of you would part ways once the power came back on to your respective beds and everything would go back to normal. So, what’s the harm in lying here with him now?

The thunder was still rolling outside along with the sharp gusts of wind, but now that you were reading in Bradley’s arms you honestly couldn’t hear it anymore. And what felt like a few short minutes, turned into three hours, your eyes growing heavy, almost dropping the book on your face once you started to nod off.

Becoming mildly alert, you shift your body upwards to set your book on the coffee table, turning to tell Bradley you were going to bed, only to see him peacefully sleeping with his head tilted back onto the throw pillow, right arm flexed behind to support his head as he slept.

Smiling softly to yourself you shake your head and move to get up to go sleep in your bed, only to be anchored down by Bradley’s arm.

Frowning, you grab his hand with yours and begin to try and peel it away from you, Bradley’s grip only growing tighter and successfully pulling you back against him, your hand promptly landing on his chest to avoid faceplanting into it.

Just when you were about to make a second attempt Bradley’s raspy voice rings loud in your ears, “Stop trying to leave me.” He grumbles. Eyes still closed he brings his second arm around your back and pulls you tight against his chest, “Just stay.”

Biting your bottom lip at his drowsy statement, you try to pull your body away from him again, his arms only squeezing tighter around you. “Bradshaw, I need to go to bed,” you huff. Bradley pushes his body further down the couch, keeping you in place as he makes himself comfortable, “Sleep here” he mumbles.

Jesus Christ he’s gonna put you in an early grave.

You allow your eyes to examine his face, the way that his eyelashes touch the tops of his cheeks, sweeping over the tiny freckles littering his face, and stopping at the curve of his lips. Goddamnit. Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes shut, you can’t do this.

“Bradley” you whisper, voice shaky as you break your gaze from his face and focus on the flickering candlelight, “I really can’t sleep here.”

This pulls him from his drowsy state almost instantaneously and has him fluttering his eyes open, blinking a few times to bring his gaze into focus.

His thumb has a mind of its own it seems, since you feel it push under the fabric of your t-shirt and rub your skin in small circular motions, biting your bottom lip to refrain from doing anything rash, a small “Bradley,” slips past your lips, tone warning.

He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he brings his other hand up to your face and forces your gaze back to him. It’s quiet as the two of you stare at each other, blood rushing in your ears over the silence that’s only broken by the distant roar of thunder.

 Sighing, you start to move your body backwards to put some distance between the two of you, “Bradley, I need to go to- “, your sentence is cut off by Bradley, who’s pulled you down and collided his lips with your own. Your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of his lips on yours, a moment passing before you understand what’s happening and push your lips against his.

The hand that Bradley has resting against your cheek pulls you further against him, fingers curling around the nape of your neck to keep you close, as you melt into the kiss, his lips caressing yours, mustache tickling your upper lip as they slot together over and over again, until you pull away to catch your breath.

Your eyes flutter open, reconnecting with Bradley’s. His honey-brown eyes have a certain glow behind them as he takes you in, leaning forward to recapture your lips with his own, “Stay.”

Closing your eyes again, you push your lips against his, letting them linger there for a moment before you lean back, and whisper out a breathy, “Okay.”

A soft, adoring smile pulls at Bradley’s lips, giving his head a short nod as he leans the two of you back, settling himself into the couch cushions while you pull your grandma’s knitted blanket off the back of the couch and over the two of you. Nuzzling yourself into his neck, placing a few chaste kisses along the scars that have made homage there. Slipping your hand under his white t-shirt while you mutter, “Just so you know,” another kiss, “I will be milking the fuck out of this.”

Bradley lets out a chuckle, kissing the top of your head briefly before closing his eyes, “Wouldn’t have it any other way, sweetheart.”

Two Weeks Later

Nat and Jake had come over again for another dinner night. This time, you chose to make dinner, a simple “lasagna roll-up” recipe you found on pinterest that has never failed you when it came to impressing guests.

Bradley and Jake were sitting at the kitchen island, mulling over the salad Bradley had just finished tossing while Jake gave him “pointers”, occasionally stealing glances at the two women sitting on the couch, deep in gossip.

Every now and then you’d look over and send Bradley a soft smile, until Natasha grabbed your attention with another story of the shenanigans that had taken place earlier on base. Jake watching the love-sick expression on Bradley’s face, and stewing in the knowledge that Bradley Bradshaw had it bad for you; just like Jake had told him he was several weeks ago.

“Took you long enough Bradshaw,” Jake poked, bringing the beer he’d been holding up to his lips and taking a sip, smirk prominent on his face.

Bradley spared Jake a glance before returning his attention back to you, clicking his tongue, “When are you gonna tell Phoenix how you feel, Seresin?”

Jake’s eyes flicked to Nat’s figure currently relaxing on the gray couch, not giving anything away, keeping his expression in his traditional cocky smirk, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Rooster.” Taking another sip of his beer, Jake moves his body off the stool and towards the living room, sitting himself down ungracefully next to Nat, her throwing an irritated look at him.

Rooster suppresses a chuckle at his teammates and shakes his head before moving himself to sit next to you, easing his arm around your shoulder, you relaxing into his embrace immediately.

Jake leans onto the arm of couch, permanent smirk etched onto his lips, “Okay I gotta know. What got you hooked on our very own ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw?”

Nat smacks Jake’s wrist and immediately reprimands him with an annoyed “and this is why we only tolerate you, Bagman” while you sit there, a blushing mess, as Bradley rubbed small circles into your shoulder.

You mull it over in your head for a second while Nat continues to reprimand Jake before you speak up, “Honestly?”

Everyone goes quiet at your consideration of Jake’s question, apart from Jake who lets his famous smirk return to his face, “I’d love to hear the honest answer.”

You look up at the ceiling briefly, cheeks flushing as you mumble, “Definitely the mustache.”

The room immediately erupts into laughter, Jake and Nat rushing out questions at a million miles a second, while you cover your face in embarrassment.

 Bradley just chuckles to himself and pulls your face into his side, kissing the top of your head, emphasizing the rub of his mustache against your forehead, making you burrow further into his side.

“Just Roommates my ass!”

[atsadi-shenanigans]

A Misuse of Potions 1- Hill Giant Strength

Wrote it, thought I should sit on it to better edit, then decided I ain't patient. Bon appetite.

Rated VERY E.

Astarion has a plan. A nice, simple plan. His love has been gone for almost a tenday, but now she's back, and he needs her to obliterate him in the best way possible.

Night has fallen. Apprentice spellworkers dart through the streets to light the lanterns as the pale wash of sunset fades into purple, and then black.

Astarion stands near the window overlooking the front street and the small, rather overgrown garden his love has been somewhat tending to.

She’s late.

She’s actually two days late, but he’s inclined to blame the wizard for that. No, she should have been here thirty minutes ago, right as the last curve of the sun sank behind the distant buildings and released the creatures of the night to their nefarious doings.

To which he would happily add his own misdeeds. Except that she’s late.

Something happened. They were waylaid by pirates. A kraken rose from the deep to smash Waterdeep and pulled that wizard tower down on top of them, and her body is so human and so, so mortal. He needs to go. Needs to check—

Magic stirs below. The scent of cinnamon and licorice he always associates with Gale’s spells. A glimmer of purple flickers in the space right before their front gate—she painted it teal and seemed quite pleased with herself—before a shimmering, purple cloud unfurls taller and taller and…

His breath sighs out of him. She emerges. Eleanor. His former leader, his friend, his love. She’s back. She’s home.

He lets the curtain fall back into place.

They’re plush things, and heavy. Purchased with him in mind and enchanted to boot. Usually, the moment it’s safe to do so, he throws them open to catch the fading light still painting the sky.

But not tonight. He doesn’t care about the sky, today. And he doesn’t want an audience.

Well, aside from one, anyway.

She unlatches the little gate and steps through. Her footsteps sound heavy. She must be tired. He hopes that won’t alter his plans. Because he did. Plan. He’s getting better at that. But now she’s late and it’s thrown him so he hurries down the stairs, soft as a sigh.

Not that he needs to. Her hearing is awful (she says it’s quite good for a human and he feels a twinge of pity at that). Plus their townhouse is enchanted against noise. Can’t have the neighbors (he has neighbors) complaining about the screaming (it’s not even bad screaming; usually involves a lot of “yes, yes oh god” even).

He hits the ground floor and surveys the room. It’s nothing grand. Nothing like the mansion he still gets dragged to in reverie sometimes. But it’s bright and tidy (they pay someone for that, because it turns out neither of them is particularly good at housekeeping). The wooden floor is well-swept and decorated with colorful rugs and potted plants (dearest Eleanor says her people were farmers). The walls are covered in patterned wallpaper and bookshelves and trinkets, tapestries and paintings she should have haggled better for, but didn’t because “good art is worth the artist.”

It's very her. And, he thinks, it might possibly him, as well? Part of him? They change things as they need to as he figures that whole mess out.

But he’s really here to check that everything is in place. No elaborate staging, though. He chose his own clothes for his own reasons, for his own purposes. He’s in their home. And it smells of them.

Or it did smell of them, And that’s the problem.

Oh, his scent is everywhere. He can’t escape that. But she’s been gone the better part of a tenday, and it’s her that’s beginning to fade.

The first, few nights were tolerable. He could nuzzle into her pillow and remember to breathe. The bedding smelled of her: rich blood, the linden soap she favors, and that wonderful, clean scent she carries on her skin. It was nearly enough for him to imagine he held her as he rested.

But the bedding wasn’t warm, like her. And though the late, summer sunlight warms the stone walls of their home and chases away the burgeoning chill of autumn, there was no living body within the walls to fill it with heat.

She wasn’t there. He was alone.

He’s been alone before, of course. Was practically alone for two centuries before he threatened her on that beach (he sighs fondly at the memory: her on her back, staring up at him with what he initially mistook for a simpleton’s vacancy, but later learned was a vicious cunning) (when she wasn’t tired) (and when what she calls her “brain chemicals” were correctly balanced).

Then they were together (he feels himself smile) for a little over a year, now. And in that time, they’ve never been apart as long as this expedition of hers.

And now their home is too cold. Too quiet. And nerves twist his stomach.

It’s almost hilarious. Centuries at seduction, and he’s now reduced to fussing over his clothing as he waits. Second guessing: where he’ll stand, how he’ll position himself. It used to be as effortless as, well, not breathing, but blinking, perhaps (even that’s a stretch). He barely thought about it. Wasn’t entirely present for more than half of it.

But now every moment drags. Her steps up their walkway. The way her lungs draw air. The beat of her heart and there’s no one to witness the slight stumble as his knees go stupidly weak.

He ought to sneer at the thought. A little over a year ago, he would have done far worse. Probably stabbed someone. But now, it’s Eleanor and he missed her, gods help him, and he smooths his hands along his front and takes up position at the door. Waits until…just…there.

Opens that door for her.

Her hand is raised to grab the knob. Now it hovers and slowly falls to her side as she boggles.

He chose well, it turns out. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he looks good. He’s retrieved his heels and laced them up. Unpacked another purchase he kept from her: a long, blood red dress of embroidered silk. It’s a slim fit, meant to hug his form. Would be tight along the legs if it wasn’t for the slit up one side.

The sleeves fall off his shoulders in a way he knows highlights them. She does love his shoulders (loves to clutch them as he works between her legs) (curl her head upon them as he reads to her) (dig her fingers in to try to ease the tense muscles when that blasted joke of an editor at the Baldur’s Mouth throws some feeble counterargument back at him).

But it’s the way her eyes follow along his collarbones to the dip that leads down his chest. It’s his chest that’s her favorite part of him (well, second) (alright, third because she says disgusting things like “your eyes” and “the way you smile” and “but if you didn’t have a mouth, I couldn’t hear you talk about plagues”).

(And she means all of those statements; she’ll just…sit there and listen to him prattle on—)

“Good evening, lover,” he purrs.

She almost drops all three bags she carries.

***

The rest on AO3 so no tumblr horny jail for me.

[meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender]

Deity! 141 AU HCs

A/N: Just some ramblings about the 141 as deities in my poly AU

(18+ only)

Please comment and reblog!

Captain John Price

God of the East Woods, who is represented by winter. He is known for his leadership skills, analytical abilities, and good faith in his men.

As he is known for leadership skills, he is known as the god most worshiped by leaders who seek guidance in their ability to command others. He is also known for being the one sought out by outcasts who are looking for community. He’ll help you find your way, don’t you worry. You belong somewhere; we just have to find where.

Contrary to popular belief, John does not participate in assisting those who force their command over others. He believes in leading by example and earning the privilege of leadership.

 He is most closely associated with cold metal, with his altar decorated in winter wreaths, warm spices, and delicate metalwork.

Kyle Garrick

God of the North Woods, represented by Spring and water. He is courageous, knowledgeable in the social and environmental climate, and can foresee the cause and effects of many actions on the battlefield.

He is worshiped by those beginning new endeavors. As the youngest and newest god (which, how new can ancient beings really be?), myths range from his grand displays of courage to self-doubt. His stories paint imagery of humbleness and of an eager learner. To those seeking new starts, he is the perfect divine being to guide you to ask questions and be courageous in the midst of change.

Kyle, while known best for being the god of changes, is also the patron of mystics for his foreseeing abilities (and beauticians. He likes his skincare and pretty things). As the foreseeing one, he knows all the outcomes and can assist divination practitioners in seeking knowledge of the future.

Just because Kyle can help doesn’t mean he will. Many fortune-tellers have reported trickery and confusion trying to get answers from him. He likes his jokes and finds seeing humans guessing about the future amusing. Won’t they find out eventually?

 His altar is decorated with bowls of water representing spring rain and winds. As spring flowers bloom, they are also decorated upon his altar. The seed of each planted crop is represented on the altar as a blessing for a productive sowing season.

Johnny McTavish

The god of summer and of the southlands. McTavish is known for quick, fiery actions mirrored by a thunderstorm's quick turn or a wildfire's spark.

While he might have fiery emotions, the god is methodological in his delivery of quick actions. For this reason, if you need help finding passion, McTavish is the god for you. He is the patron of athletes and artisans who harness passion into practice and dedication to their craft.

The god of summer is precise! If you seek his help, be specific and think about what you need versus what you want. His help will come on his timing, but it’ll be exactly what you asked for. He finds it funny when mortals get upset by this. Usually, if he is going to be helpful to the mortals, it is on his terms and conditions, and you’ll know by a sudden splash of warmth on your skin or by the way events just so happen to align that it could only be the work of a god.

His altar is decorated with an always-lit candle. There are summer fruits in bowls and an icon of a thunderbolt descending from the sky to represent his passions.

The one they call “Ghost”

The god of the south and autumn season, mortals know the least about him. His mythology is sparse, usually featuring him as a supporting character in someone else’s myth (usually Johnny’s) with a dry sense of humor.

He is the god of the ground that is transitioning into hibernation, the god of intelligence, knowing when to take ground and when to give ground. He is the wisdom gained from remembering the bones and dust from whence you came. He is the patron of the elderly and wise, of those who understand the power of listening before speaking to the aged ideals that came before you.

Hidden by shadows of the unknown, protected by the bones of the dying, Ghost is not a death god, but he represents the bridge between mortals and the spiritual, helping those who are dying.

Ghost is not a god you call upon lightly. He will make you search your shadows, forcing you to gaze upon those fearsome things that hide in all mortal souls. If you ask to see the divine, he will show you it when you are ready. But it will not look pretty or neat or holy. It will be sacred in its raw, awesome terror, a power unleashed that mortals cannot grasp.

Ghost’s alter typically has a buck skull on it- the first buck killed of the season. Black and grey altar cloths are laid beneath the walnut bowls holding the nuts and acorns offered to the god.

Once upon a time, there were four gods. Together, they took turns helping the mortals. But what spirit connects them all, centering their efforts? Of what clear mission banner do they unite under? To whom is the focal point of life’s great mysteries? It had always been assumed human mortals as a collective to be that focal point. But the myths do not end with the death of the old. They continue and will grow with the next generations and generations next.

[psychopomp-recital]

🔥Subtle Brigid Worship⚒️

Completely inspired by @khaire-traveler ‘s subtle worship series!

➤ Light candles in your home

- (bonus points if the scent matches her associations)

➤ Read poetry books and blogs

➤ Build lego sets

➤ Clean your house or space + keep up with repairs

➤ Have bonfires with your community

➤ Swim in lakes or rivers

➤ Write poetry or creative writing

➤ Keep a grief journal

➤ Visit farms/care for livestock

➤ Donate or volunteer at animal shelters

➤ Have a picnic at sunrise

➤ Make your house a home with decor you love

➤ Share a warm drink with her

➤ Make your phone wallpaper something associated with her/art of her

➤ Sit around a fire

➤ Take regenerative baths or showers

➤ Create jewelry or sculptures

➤ Wear clothes or jewelry that suit her energy

➤ Learn a home craft like knitting, crochet or embroidery

➤ Make and mend your clothes

➤ Hang a Brigid’s cross by your door or kitchen

➤ Bake or Cook and share the meal with others

➤ Simmer pots with associated herbs

➤ Volunteer with domestic violence or queer shelters

➤ Work towards and embrace self love

➤ Help mothers & new parents in your community

➤ Grow your own food

➤ Sing songs that make you happy outloud

➤ Show hospitality wherever you can

➤ Have confidence in yourself and your worth

➤ Take care of your body and mind

➤ Go to therapy

➤ Aide the grieving and the dying

➤ Volunteer at a children’s hospital

➤ Do small acts of kindness

➤ Have honeyed or cinnamon toast

➤ Tell folktales, especially to the next generation

➤ Share stories of ancestors, not just those who are blood related

➤ Light a match

➤ Keep a stuffed sheep, cow, ox or other livestock in your home

➤ Wear perfume that reminds your of her

➤ Research Irish history & culture / Gaeilge

➤ Keep artwork of her by your door or kitchen

➤ Keep iron around your space especially your kitchen

➤ Wear iron jewelry

➤ Learn to Blacksmith or Invent something

➤ Create a community either online or irl

➤ Take care of your hair

➤ Go to a cooking or baking class

➤ Take a pottery or quilting class

➤ Foster animals

➤ Befriend your neighbors

➤ Smile and embrace life

➤ Cry and embrace death/grief when it comes into your life (more then just physical death)

➤ Read books and educate yourself

➤ Keep first aide in your home

➤ Get CPR/AED/First Aid certifications

➤ Learn herbalism

➤ Go on walks outside, especially during spring

➤ Make a wish at a well

➤ Embrace your authentic self

➤ Be an ally of or attend LGBTQIA+ events

➤ Eat fruits like apples and blackberries

➤ Learn self defense

➤ Research your ancestors, not just those related by blood

➤ Play ttrpgs or larp

➤ Keep a journal or a commonplace notebook

➤ Support small business and artists

➤ Plant native yellow flowers around your house

➤ Wear shawls, especially when you’re sick

➤ Learn grounding techniques

➤ Washing your face

➤ Eating / Drinking dairy

➤ Create collages

➤ Paint your nails with associated colors or symbols

More to be added later!

[thealtoduck]

Being the Son of Calliope, headcanons…

PJO x Male Reader (No romantic pairing)

Warnings: None…

Summary: You’re the son of the goddesss of epic poetry and eloquence and One of the Nine Muses…

(A/n: I know I was meant to work on other stuff but I got distracted.)

(Song is unrelated to the story but it felt Muses coded so…)

——

You were the only half-blood at camp related to one of the Muses, specifically Calliope, the Goddesss of Epic Poetry and Eloquence.

When you had gotten to camp you used to stay in Cabin 11, even though you’d been claimed, there was no cabin for you. So you ended up bunking with Travis Stoll.

But after the war with the titans and Percy’s demands to Zeus to the gods, a cabin dedicated to the Nine Muses had been built.

You being made the counsler… not that there were any other options…

The cabin was great tho, it was decorated with statues and carvings of the muses and their symbols. There were paintings hung of their famous demigods too such as Orpheus, Hyacinthus and Linus

The cabin had a big book case with novels, plays, comedies, tradgedies, poetry. A soundproof dance studio, a soundproof music room with a bunch of instruments, a sky window to study the stars.

Basically everything associated with the Muses.

——

If you had a nickel for everytime someone had tried to pick you by saying ”you were their muse” or that ”you had inspired” the poem, song or novel they wrote… you’d be richer than Hades.

You were particullarly popular amongst the Apollo cabin who seemed to think you were some kind of key to overcome creative blocks. Will Solace, their counselor, needed to keep them in check since they all seemed interested in you in one way or the other.

Athena’s and Hephaestus’s cabins were also drawn to you for your creativety.

——

You would however end up being paired with the Apollo cabin to lead the campfire sing-alongs, you usually end up with a solo song telling the dramatic story of some greek hero.

Imagine something like ”The Gosphel Truth” from ”Hercules”, with the Apollo cabin acting as you back up singers.

——

As for your powers, you were far from the strongest of demigods, but you were by no means weak.

You had a natrual talent for the arts, singing, dancing, poetry, instruments, etc…

As the son of the goddess of Eloquence you could cast minor short lasting curses on people that would effect their speaking, that could for example cause them to only speak in rhymes and limericks or make them unable to finish long sentences before drifting off.

Your swordfighting style would be noted by the other campers to be quite different, while they fought normally with their swords, Percy described your style more as a ”VERY deadly and sharp dance”.

Being related to the muses you also had an aura that could induce inspiration and creativity in someone (so maybe the Apollo cabin was on to something with their interest in you).

Though that power worked both ways as you could also curse someone with creative block.

——

Unlike most demigods, you’re mother showed up quite often to advice you whenever you had a problem… and she didn’t come alone.

Let’s say you’re in your cabin and you’re sad after having an argument with a friend.

Well… then all the 9 statues of the Muses in the cabin come to life and start singing a pop-soul number about why friendship is important and you should make up with your friend.

It’s was quite terrifying the first few times it happened but you get used to it after a while.

Being one of the Muse’s son is pretty much like being all of their son.

(A/n 2: Sorry, this is shorter than i usually write and is more so a collection of small headcanons for a Son of Calliope!Reader than a full on fic.)