#peacher

[princess-dc93]

(Left): i won't draw my own since last 2020! I wanted to redraw my own sona so here it go again xD Little change and same colors :3 -------------------------------------------------- (Right): I forget to tell you about last thursday..... I was watched the theater, "The Super Mario Bros movie"!!! It pretty awesome! lol So I decide to want draw Princess Peacher and Bowser with my sona! :3 ----------------- ----------------- ------------------ ------------------ Princess DreamCatcher belongs to my sona princess Princess Peacher and Bowswer from The Super Mario Bros Movie ---------------- ---------------- Like💙–> Reblog 🔁 

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Artist by N.R.  

Used by ✏️ 

[enchantedchocolatebars]

@pokeycub

I love posting out of context stuff for the stuff I'm working on XD This one isn't too spoilery so I'm posting it :p

[endearng]

Distracted

Pairing: Spencer Reid x neighbour!fem!reader Summary: Finding time to date as a single mother is hard. Finding time to date as a FBI profiler is also hard. That's how you find yourself on a reckless date during a remote day of work. WC: 2.8k A/N: guess who failed miserably at trying to update more! me! Anyways so... this is Spencer and his neighbor having an impromptu date and forgetting everything around them as they should <33 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

Olivia had disappeared under the giant umbrella she had to use that day — having forgotten her own at school, you lent her your own, while you let your raincoat try to shield you from the drops of water. Chuckling quietly to yourself, you kept an eye on her as she walked ahead of you for a couple of feet. As she reached the crossing, she waited for you and you tried to pick her up while balancing the weight of your daughter, your purse and her school bag. Once you both crossed the street, you put her back on the ground, sighing.

"Olivia?"

"Yes, mommy?" She asks, small hands gripping the handle of the umbrella, adjusting it so that her big doe eyes would look up at you.

"Remind me not to let aunt Jude ever borrow mommy's car again." You say in a serious-mock tone.

"Heheh, okay."

You both snickered, resuming your walk. As you dropped her off in her classroom, like you always did, you waved her goodbye and she returned the farewell, already searching the room for her friends. It made you smile internally, deadly proud of your daughter.

First days of school had a hint of terror in them that you could never shake off — it didn't matter if your first-days-of-school were all behind you by now, because everything could happen. New people? New friends? Enemies? Bullies? Teachers? Good or bad? Inspiring or dull? The chance to use your favorite notebook. The chance of not seeing a particular friend again. The chance of seeing them and possibly becoming friends. There were too many possibilities. And they were both terrifying and exhilarating.

Today, it was something special. It had made your heart flutter, churn, miss a beat, all within the same 10 minutes that a drive to Olivia's kindergarten school took. You braced yourself for her reaction, not knowing how it would be, even if the school had prepared a welcoming event to new students to get to know the building and the teachers a few days prior to the first day of actual class. Olivia walked the corridors cautiously, one hand holding yours and the other holding her father's. She looked at the two of you, questions behind her eyes that she didn't know how to phrase — or that she was too scared of the answers.

"Excuse me, hi. Good morning! Mrs. Davis, right?" You asked politely to a woman who appeared to be in her 50s in front of the classroom 205.

"Hello, good morning! And you are?"

You hastily held out your hand, a big, nervous smile on your face as you told her your name, that you and your husband were Olivia's parents. Mrs. Davis kneeled to Olivia's height to introduce herself properly. "Hello, Miss Olivia! I am Mrs. Davis, I'll be your first teacher." She said in a sweet tone.

"Hi... My Peacher?!"

You chuckled wetly already. It was an endearing sight, to say the least, Olivia in a uniform that was much too big for her small 3-year-old frame, making a few phonological exchanges — not to say mistakes. She squeezed Mrs. Davis hand, trusting, with a small, nervous smile. "Come in, dear. Your new friends wanna meet you."

Olivia stood in the threshold, looking at you and your husband, as if she wanted to know if you both were coming too. Why weren't you coming, too? You nodded, encouragingly, unable to speak anything as her eyes brimmed with tears. Your husband stood there, equally speechless, gazing at your daughter.

You managed to croak out, "Go on, dear. Your friends... wanna meet you."

Olivia nodded, her bottom lip jutting out. Carefully, your husband started, "Oli, baby, we'll come back... Go... go have fun," he said, a knot on his throat.

Olivia nodded yet again, even though her hand was reaching out to grab yours. You felt a tear on your cheek and you quickly brushed it away, not wanting her to see it. You smiled, trying to give her a bravery that you weren't sure even existed. "I'll see you soon, okay? Mommy loves you so much." You said, squeezing her hand lovingly.

Your husband kneeled to her height, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I love you, baby. We'll see you in a bit." He said, pinching his thumb and index finger together to emphasize the amount of time. Olivia opened a small smile, despite her tears and the crease between her eyebrows.

The memory had, simultaneously, made you smile and tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. Choosing a café close to Olivia's school, you set down your belongings and finally have something to eat (you make sure to get the cookies she likes so much), and get to work, revising yet another chapter of the book you're currently assigned to. As time goes by, the words on the laptop screen start to blur together, so you look up, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear a voice close to you, but you don't acknowledge it at first, eyes still closed, relishing in the feeling of resting them a little bit.

Eyes open, you search your surroundings. There were a few patrons minding their own business and for a moment, you stood there, people-watching. It always gave you a sense of comfort, people just... being. Existing. Sharing ordinary moments. Sharing important moments that a stranger wouldn't be able to totally grasp what was going on, but that it made you feel glad to witness love happening around you.

Glancing back at your computer screen, because of course you have to, you read, and then you read again, and for good measure, revise the chapter about thrice before you distract yourself with the external world again. It's about mid-day when your neighbor, Spencer, comes in, a caramel satchel bag slung over his shoulder and the usual serious expression on his face. Upon spotting you, something gave you the nerve to give him a small smile and raise your hand in a shy wave.

Oh. Quick explanation.

Spencer Reid, your good-looking, nice, gentle, kind, smart neighbor had asked you out on a date. But, considering your busy and unaligned schedules, said date hadn't taken place yet. It made you sad and you kept asking him all the time — it had come to a point where you two would meet at the elevator and after exchanging wishes of a good day, you or him would ask a hopeful "Tonight?" and then the other answer with a sad shake of the head.

It was starting to make you frustrated beyond belief.

Coming back to the present, he beamed instantly and hesitantly made his way to you.

"Hi," he greeted, a bashful happiness on his face.

You smiled back. "Hey... Um, wanna sit with me?"

He glanced at your computer and made a funny face. "I don't want to bother—"

"Please. That is a cry for help." He laughs at your interruption, taking the seat in front of you. "Hi, hey! How, um, how's everything going?" You ask, finally, smiling at the fact that he laughed over something you said.

"It's... going good, actually. Today is a rare, boring paperwork day. I, uh... I'm already done with mine, so I came here to grab coffee." He explains, fiddling with his fingers, hands sitting on his lap.

"It's mid-day," you grinned.

He rubs the back of his head, sheepishly. "Yeah, I, ah... I'm a bit fast when it comes to certain things." He admitted.

"Is that so?" You asked, a bit surprised. You figured that the paperwork would be very complex and that involved many details that one could easily miss if they didn't pay proper attention. "Well, I guess it's safe to say that I couldn't work for the FBI to save my life! I've been stuck in the same chapter for some time now—heh—I'm always scared to miss out on something."

"Really?" He asked, trying to take a peek at your computer screen, even though it was impossible, but his curiosity was once again getting the best of him. "What's the current book you're working on?"

Glancing down at the screen, you made a face. "Ah, an anniversary edition of Dracula. Speaking of which, have you read it?"

"Dracula," he muttered. "Yes, I have. I find the gothic elements and the way Stoker blends them with the horror aspects fascinating. The transformation of Dracula from charming and seductive to monstrous and vile... It's an intriguing character study. I actually first read the book—ahm..." He trailed off, unsure if he should keep going.

"You first read the book...?" You encouraged him.

"When I was 8. For the first time, I mean. I've read it a couple of times by now. I, um, I have a soft spot for Gothic Literature." He revealed, shyly. You smiled.

"I take it that you like it? Dracula, I mean." You asked, curiously.

"I do, as I've said, as a big enthusiast of gothic elements, the foreboding and the slow realizations made by the characters earn a few good points in favor of the novel." He replied, grinning. "Do you?"

"Eh, it's fine, yeah... it's a classic for a reason, right?" You say, a bit dismissively. He chuckles and you look up at him.

"You don't seem all that sure."

You chuckled. "It's just... When you have a different opinion on a classic, everyone is ready to throw rocks at you. It's not my cup of tea, but what can I say? It's... decent." You finish, a hint of humor in your voice.

"Mhm... Favorite character?" He asks, amused by your answer and forwardness.

"Mina Harker. She's the closest thing to a brave person in the book, not to mention that she was the one who found out all about Dracula. These men were just..." You trailed off, shaking your head, even though your tone was of pure mockery.

"Can't argue with that."

At that time, everything else had just... disappeared. Spencer was thrilled, to say the least, that someone was taking their time to listen to him. Not just someone, her. And it meant the world that she had basically dropped her job to talk to him over something so intricate and dear to him. His heart fluttered as he looked down on his lap, biting back a lovestruck smile. He was absolutely gone, to say the least.

By not looking at you, he missed the soft, adoring gaze you threw his way. Say something. Say. Something!

"Speaking of Mina, something that makes me a bit controversial is..." you start, and he glanced back at you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, "I think that using the 21st centry lenses we have from our own age is not the wisest approach to a century-old work, whether poetry, of any kind, music, scientific records, novels, you name it. Anachronism doesn't always work, especially if you're thinking of older authors or artists. It's only going to lead you to disappointment." You say, shrugging a bit.

"That's for sure, actually. Some people are a product of their time. Writers are not an exception to that affirmation." He remarked, grinning. "It's nice to hear you have such a... clear view. I find it refreshing when I meet someone who doesn't try to... cancel... I hate that word... old authors just because their views don't align with the ones that are most common today. They were written almost a century and a half ago."

"That's right. And literature is also a form of documenting the thoughts of a certain era. Of course, there are authors way ahead of their time, and I do prefer to read them, of course, but human history so far is full of challenges and overcoming of such problems. With all that being said, Stoker was terrible at writing women other than Mina."

With your final sentence, Spencer laughed so heartily it almost sounded like a dream. Throwing his head back, even. It made you think that he was somehow exaggerating, but the humor and the hint of something in his eye told you that he was being genuine. You bit back a smile, looking at him fondly.

The glance was entirely disarming, the way your eyes crinkled at the edge as the prettiest grin spread on your face was too much to take. Spencer chuckled, totally flustered, by the fact that he had made you look at him like that.

"Yeah... I do read for a living. And Dracula is not my favorite because, in my humble, insignificant opinion, it is just too slow."

"Ouch."

"I blame it on the male characters."

"But you've just said that—"

Cutting him off, laughing, you defend yourself from the coming accusation. "No, I didn't. Pfft."

"But..."

"Nuh-uh."

"Okay, then, what's your gothic of choice?"

"Poe."

"Of course."

You hit your palms on the table, playfully. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He raised his own in mock surrender. God, this conversation was having an effect on him. "Nothing! It's just a safe choice. A good one." He laughs when he sees the skeptical look in your eye. "Favorites?"

"The Cask of Amontillado. The wording choices are just to die for," you giggled, "pun intended."

Spencer laughed, once again. Every time felt like the first that you made him laugh, not because he was shy or nervous, but because he had found something funny. Not only that, he had found something you said funny. It was silly, but mentally, you tapped yourself on the shoulder for the good job. You couldn't stop the endeared smile spreading across your face at the sound of his laughter. Your heart also beat like crazy.

Time stopped. As his laughter died down, you two stared at each other, almost as if analyzing each other's faces, just like the first time your eyes first landed on his figure. Had his eyesight not been this fucked up, Spencer could've probably be able to map out all the freckles of your face, so much was the intent on his gaze. You could feel your heart beat increase and your palms start to sweat, strong indicators of your rising shyness, but you didn't have it in yourself to look away, not when he looked at you like you meant something. Like you were something worth seeing.

"For God's sake," one of the baristas muttered in the background, clearly annoyed, shouting next, "SPENCER! ARE YOU STILL HERE?"

The yell broke you two out of your reverie, four eyes looking around to find the source of the sound. As Spencer bashfully and ungracefully stood up from his seat, being watched by every single patron and glared at by the angry barista, you couldn't help the chuckle that erupted from your lips. He awkwardly made his way over to the counter and got his order, returning hurriedly to the table he was sharing with you. You tried to cover the fact that you were highly amused by what had happened. It made you way too fond of him.

"Sorry about that," he said as he sat down, "I didn't... I didn't even realize my name was being called."

"It's okay. I didn't hear it either. I would've told you." You replied, smiling.

"I'm sure you would."

Staring contest, again. Your heart hammering inside your chest, again. Getting lost in those eyes which by now you could map at least three different colors—

Beep. beep. beep.

Picking your phone nervously, you answer the call without truly checking the ID. "H-hello?"

"Jesus, where the fuck are you? The meeting started 20 minutes ago!" A coworker, Paul, whisper-shouted over the phone. Your eyes went wide.

Spencer sipped on his coffee, watching your reactions closely.

"Be right there," and ending the call.

Looking at Spencer apologetically, you said, "I'm sorry... I had a meeting scheduled for—" you glanced at your, now, black computer screen. You had been chatting with Spencer for so long that your laptop had entered resting-mode. You blinked, now the one being embarrassed by reality calling you back. Spencer reached out and, during an exceptional display of bravery—nevermind the killers he chased for a living—, he placed his hand on top of one of your own, squeezing it lightly. The touch made shivers erupt on your skin and luckily, you had a long-sleeved top on that day.

"It's okay. I'm... I'm on my way back."

"Oh... okay... I just..."

He blurted out, not even thinking it through, "To be honest, I didn't want to say goodbye."

You smiled, giddily. "Me neither," but...

"Duty calls." He finished for you.

"Yeah."

He stood up to leave, removing his hand from yours. You missed it and the coldness it left was a bit too much to take. You fought the urge to wince, not wanting to look so out of place by his departure.

"Bye, Spencer."

"I'll see you."

He definitely would.

Fighting the urge to stand up and follow him outside to wherever he strayed to, you joined the meeting, silently comforting yourself with the thought that he definitely would. Screw schedules, screw everything. You two would make it happen.

[pizzaback]

why was bowsette even called that, peachette is called that because it’s toadette who looks like peach, shouldn’t bowsette be called peacher or something

[mushroomminded]

Proud to say I’ve been a Peacher since the early comic “peachy fell in a hole and hit her head” days

this guy remembers when peachy was a squid rather than a hedgehog

[midnightscxre]

" Well aren't you a little lady. " smooth baritone, warm and thick like melted caramel, complimented the manners rather than mock them. It did tickle the man under the ribs, witnessing someone uttering ' please and thank you ' so honestly, not from fear or force. It seemed to him, the girl was a pleasant company even before the army of dead conquered mother earth. The realization followed by another, that the chances of them being in the same circles in the life before were slim, very, very slim, odds for even meeting her where 1 in a 100. Sophisticated, polite, calm women did not enter pubs owned by the mob, filled with people arm to the teeth, downing beer and not minding the brute behavior. No, this one certainly would not be in the cards he was dealt -- so somehow, deep inside, for the first time the man saw the bright side of getting that Joker with a decaying zombie face that changed the world order. . . because meeting Eden certainly didn't count as another disaster.

" Does the please and thank you approach work on the corpses as well? Maybe I am missing something here. . . instead of smashing their hissing, ugly mug, I should have just politely ask for them to take a hike. " the laughter continued to spread through the scattered, ruined space of the gas station, until it suddenly died down. Her touch, that is, the squeeze of the sleeve of the leather jacket left him in place, watching the small hand next to his wide one. He allowed contact, left his hand still, feeling the hunger for protection, comfort. . . perhaps most of all humanity, in that act. " No need to thank me sweetheart, we can't all be just savages, killing for a bite of food or bullet that would do more good if we swallow it ourselves, not others. . . " A grim tone to the response, but honesty evident in the sentence.

A thought passed through the privacy of his mind, a realization of hypocritical statement. He killed for less than a bite of food, which today means literal survival -- before he killed for mere piece of land that wasn't even his. A territory, to protect the invisible lines of what the Devil stranglers proclaimed theirs. Gaze wondered to the chain still hanging on his jeans. A weapon taking more lives than bullets ever did or would. A favorite thing to steal a soul with. Clearing his throat, snapped back to the present moment by the melodic tone of Eden's voice, grin appeared under the untrimmed mustache. " Would never say, Irish's that is so polite? Maybe there is hope for us after all. " he joked, knowing well the reality is far from the stereotypes other glued to the Irish. They were friendly, helpful, honest, loyal . . . maybe after a few pints they were just a bit sensitive with the nerves. However, a few firsts flying in a quick brawl and everything is back to normal. " I am a mutt myself, that is why the accent isn't on point. " Jace explained vaguely, unaware of the small chit chat they were having, not very common for this times. " Am from Texas, long way from here. Left when I was 16. " small pause, deafening silence when the never-ending regret cut the beating blood pump on the memory of what. . .who he left behind without even a proper goodbye. " Mother was Irish, died giving birth to me. My father was Texan, and the old man gave his best to convey the bits and pieces of her memory on me, so he copied her accent, until my tongue didn't shape words with it. . . the thing ended tho, he died when I was eight, went to my uncle and aunt. "

History lesson was over as quickly as it began, telling it stirring the graves of too much buried ghost eager to haunt him. " Some valuable skills for sure. Is she still here? " Regretting the question as soon as it fell from the mouth, thick eyebrows lowered. " I mean. . . if your community fell apart, maybe she is out there. " Approach of reassurance not his usual ammo, though he tried. It seemed this fragile woman experienced a turbulent ride through the roads of Inferno, there was no need for the ' hard truth ' yet, telling her everyone she knew were probably dead, and she had a guardian angel getting her this far if she was so merciful and trustworthy toward strangers. Although, he scolded his own self, recalling the words she uttered before, asking only for a quick death. The woman was tired, obviously, tired of living the life on the run and in constant terror or everything around them. Chest puffed, chains of muscles tensing, need to shield her bubbling in his chest. She seemed as one of the very few pearls of purity on this gruesome battlefield of horror. " The thing you said, about finishing you? I think I'll keep you alive, listenin' to my bullshit probably a better punishment, to teach you not to lower your weapon around strangers, ya? " Jace teased, trying to bring up her spirits.

Pushing the callused hand into the back pocket of the light blue jeans, man fished out a crumpled box of cigarettes, biting the bud of one and extending the hand towards Eden. " Want one? " The other hand lighted the tobacco, as he inhaled the delicious smoke almost feeling the muscles fluttering with euphoria. Yes, he was addicted to this sinful pleasure. Next statement of the woman came as a punch to the gut, nearly choking on the grey could lingering in his lungs, Jace coughed violently. The corners of the eyes tuned red, while the eyeballs were glazed with a thin layer of tears. " Damn darlin' , you nearly killed me, I though we were good. " Commenting while straightening himself up, balled fist slammed the stone-hard chest. " A preacher, huh? I assure you, sweetheart, I was quite the opposite before zombies fucking up the society. " As if the patch ' president' on the left side of his chest and the brutal sight on the back, didn't reveal enough.

" And what were you? Professional climber surely not. " Another harmless joke, trying to keep the conversation light, making them forget for a moment where they are. Thick fingers brought the cigarette to the lips, taking another hit. Mention of the radio caught his interest instantly. " Radio, huh? Honestly darlin' been searching for some of those for a while now. Classic radio, song playing one. . . any chance you know where I can get that? " There was a promise, a legend even, passed down from generation to generation of the bikers. An agreement, between the rival clubs. A story so bizarre Jace always thought it was just a joke. But now, he really hoped it was not. The story went that if ever there was a disaster, something so devastating that the world can't recover from it, the clubs will join forces, unite, see the survival of their ranks is secured. And all he had to do to see if that is really true, is find the radio and listen. . . for the tunes of the song The house of the rising sun. Coordinates hidden inside of the lyrics, to the actual house.

Jace thought through the options laid on the table of destiny. Wounded stranger with probably not one savage bone in her body a bad package to take on. Slowing him down is the least of his problems, after all, he can't fully trust her. " Ok, darlin' this is what I propose. I am heading to a place allegedly not far from here. . . a market so to speak. Vulture's nest, heard of it? " Of course he will decide the opposite, taking her with him Jace got the information from the last guy he joined forces with. . . briefly -- considering Eden was now drinking the water he took from the man after strangling him. But he didn't end the guy's life for liquid, no, it was because the man tried to do that to him. Mistake on his part, underestimating Jace's calmed behavior. " From what I hear, I can get some bullets there, for a price. And medicine, that is certainly a thing there too. . . I just wonder what they will charge for it. " Trade was a complicated thing these days, value determined on the spot by the individuals, depending what they need. But she needed some antibiotic, something to prevent a potential infection. " Can you walk? " Jace asked before she answered does she even want to join him on this path, already approaching her and turning his back. " I would gladly offer you a ride on my Harley, but the flat tire got us separated. So I can offer you my back for a while. Because we have to move. This place? " He looked over the gas station. " Hot spot for unwanted guests probably doing the same things we did, looking for anything they can use. So we need to go. "

"I was running from biters, and.. I mean as obvious as it is I'm little, sometimes it'd easier to climb a floor and pick them off from a height." It wasn't a dumb choice, it wasn't like they'd manage to scale what she could and there was nothing wrong with using your strengths to your advantage. "It was when I was climbing down, there was a bit of metal and I slipped. I wasn't being careful." If she told the truth it'd be that she had that first dizzy spell of light headedness and couldn't keep focus that day. What day was that? What day of the week was it now?

In part Eden knew she was being an idiot, but so help her if he turned on her, overpowered her, murdered her for some bread, then so be it. She was tired, she was worn out, thirsty. Death might be some form of mercy to her right now, or at least she thought so. Maybe it'd all stop being peaceful, maybe whatever lay in the great beyond didn't have snapping jaws and rotting flesh. "When it umm... when it comes to ammo, it's a pain but try the upper floors, the bits that are hard to get to. It's where I find ammo, the places people think will be too difficult now or even too rusted and broken." Her free hand pressed to the warmth she felt bloom against her shirts fabric, crimson now dabbed on her fingertips that she stared down at.

"If I'm wrong, if I'm being a big idiot... if you want to take, everything I have just do me one kindness, and make sure you'd do it quick and make sure I'm dead, I'd not want.." her hand gestured. "I'd not want to be like them." in these times, killing someone was the mercy, the cruelty was to let someone turn, to become a flesh eating monster. It was when he turned, that was when she thought that'd be it and the way her pupils shot showed it, the expectance. Some people would have killed her over bread and berries, some would have killed. her for ammo alone. Then there were the sick ones, the ones that had lost all scraps of humanity and would've tortured the girl for fun. Shamelessly as his expression softened, all she could think was that he had lovely eyes. They reminded her of a storming sea with enraged clouds yet beneath something so gentle, waves that hushed and lulled a sense of security.

"Jace." she repeated and then that, a last name. How very human a thing, and how many people she wondered, had forgotten that type of simple thing? Her blood stained hand touched her chest and in that moment you could see, there was so much love inhabited into the last name she'd never forget, forever her best memories. "O'Connor." she huffed air, a slight amusement. "I know I don't sound Irish right? My grandmother did though she was.. well, her accent was a lot stronger than yours." that didn't matter, but little details like that made them seem more human than surviving animals. Her arm was still, she was stiff.. but as long as she waited in silence for his hands to turn bitter and nasty, for them to squeeze or grip a part of her that was too delicate for rough hands, the moment never came. Those green robs just continued to watch what he was doing, the way he peeled the fabric back to reveal the sore flesh, the blood, wet mixed with dry against pale flesh. "Oh I'll be fine, I'm fine, I'm.." no. She wasn't fine. She barely gasped as he lifted her to the counter and heavens, she was light. Legs dangling freely over the edge freely, her jeans showed signs of the fact she was a good climber, scraps and slight nicks to the thick material but nothing deep enough through them like her shoulder. Eden braced, ready for a sudden sting but what he gave her instead was completely kind, just as she'd been to him.

She didn't seem to timid when she reached to take that from him and she was fully aware she must have looked insatiable when she took three large swigs from that bottle, a gasp following but nothing had ever felt as good, her throat thanked her for the relief of liquid. "Thank you, Jace Catto." she almost panted the words with how she'd drank. She nodded her head, tensed again in preperation but god it did sting, and that instinct reaction was for that first 'f' to roll out, her face scrunching and rather than swear her bodies reaction was to reach and grip, to briefly squeeze what she'd grabbed which by chance, was his arm with slender fingers clutching at his clothings fabric. "Sorry, sorry." she breathed, eased, stopped squeezing her grip. Rare for someone to be polite these days, even rarer to apologise. "Medicine? Hell I'd be lucky wouldn't I? I think I'd be long dead if I had any of that on me." before he moved she reached and rather than take his hand, she took his sleeve again. "Hey— thank you, you didn't have to do that I mean I know how... people aren't people anymore I—" she let go of his sleeve.

Eden remained there, perched on that surface and as if to be disappointed to admit the story, lowered her head. "I'd really love to tell you I have a group but it's more.. I had a group. I was part of this place, there were walls and people, houses, running water." she started to explain, looking reminiscent. "See, I was useful to them because they had a mill and my grandmother was a baker. I learned everything from her so I knew how to make flour go further and how to make bread like that. Bread that'd last and not go stale overnight, how to make a starter for sourd—.. you don't really care for all that part but, it went wrong. Someone hid a bite and came back in the walls and within a few hours it was.. destroyed. I kept some things to the side just incase, made a run for it because.. I guess some people would say I was a coward some would say surviving." a light shrug and she flicked her own hair back behind one ear. She wondered what he'd think, a coward perhaps? Abandoning people like that, or survivor, for not waiting to become one of them. "It might be a little bit stale but it should still taste good." she explained. "There umm.. There was a radio there, they were talking to another group to the west which is why I'm here, looking for this other place. No idea where I'm going." she paused, tilting her head towards him. "Do you think I've more chance of seeing Jesus than finding this place?" Eden pressed her lips together momentarily before flashing her eyes to him again. "See, you're bringing up seeing Jesus and here I was totally thought you were a preacher before the world went to hell." she was joking with him, teasing and that hint of a smile curving the corners of her lips was precious.

[mint-is-here]

so i was watching lmk s4(still not done, will probably finish it tomorrow but i'm 15 minutes in the special of the season so yay!) and, after knowing more about wukong,i have a much deeper apreetiation for him because i honeslty relate to him.

ok so backstory time but when i was younger, i used to be extremely afraid of death(still am but it almost used ot be a phobia, which honeslty still kinda is(i need therapy)). i wanted to be immortal or at least not be forgotten, so when i died people would still know my name. i wanted to be the greatest so my face wouldt just be another face in a family picture

i was such a normal 7 year old but ANYWAY-

so yeah, i relate to wukong's fear of mortality because of that, and its interesting to see a character with that fear and being able to fight the thing that is suppsed to bring said fear but still not being able to win it. i like how it seems like wukong is not simply power hungry like some people say, but he's mortally afraid(ha) of leavign this world for good. because as much as he is immortal, he always has that uncertainty of 'what if this is not enough?'. so he keeps seeking for more, so he can finally live peacefully with no worries about death, his nor his friends, but in doing so, he sacrified so much. he wasnt able to truly enjoy life like he did before discovering death until he had lost so much and was it worth it in the end? because i belive it will never feel like its enough to him. no matter how many celestial peachers or training or anything he does to gain more immortality, it will never be enough

wukong's fear controls almost every action he takes before the journey and even after that, really shows how much it is part of his life and i want to see him fight that fear and win in the future season, if not others. i guess i just want to see him do it so i can look at my life and see a way to fight it off too:D like 'if he can do it so can i' sort of mentality

[kinglao16]

My peacher plush 💖💖💖

[thewither129]

No hate to OP, but im just now learning a lot of people dont actually know what “bowsette” is

Bowsette isnt “bowser but girl”

Bowsette is bowser wearing the super crown, a power up that turns toadette into peachette, who is basically peach in a toadette-style outfit

As soon as the trailer dropped, people made it horny, thus sprang forth a bunch of mario enemies and bosses as a sexualized peach, lead by the infamous bowsette. This spread far and wide to other IPs and characters

Theyre all named wrong too. Its always (name)+ette. The -ette suffix comes from toadette. Not peach. I guess “peacher” or “peachser” didnt have the same ring to it.

Anyway while it was a dumb and very obviously oversexualized trend, a lot of people have completely missed the point.

Again, its not “bowser but girl.” Its bowser as peach.

[worthyprompts]

PREACHER'S DAUGHTER. / prompts from the album peacher's daughter by ethel cain. tweaked for rp. change pronouns & cut & combine as you wish. (repost)

' i put too much faith in the make believe. '

' i feel it there, in the middle of the night. '

' say what you want, but say it like you mean it. '

' just give it on more day then you're done. '

' i don't need anything from anyone. '

' it's just not my year. '

' i'm doing what i want and, damn, i'm doing it well. '

' you and me against the world. you were my man and i your girl. '

' you were my whole world. '

' you came, and i laughed. you left, and i cried. '

' you told me even if we died tonight that i'd die yours. '

' really, i'd kill myself to hold you on more time. '

' it hurts to miss you. '

' i cry every day and the bottles make it worse. '

' you were the only one i was never scared to tell i hurt. '

' it was love, i guess. '

' and i feel so alone. '

' i watched him show his love through shades of black and blue. '

' show me how much i mean to you while i lie in these sheets undressed. '

' i'd hold the gun if you asked me to. '

' but if you love me like you say you do, would you ask me to? '

' trouble's always gonna find you, baby, but so will i. '

' i'm never gonna leave you, baby, even if you lose what's left of your mind. '

' please don't love how i need you. '

' i'm not above violence. '

' i've killed before and i'll kill again. '

' hell doesn't scare me, i've been times before. '

' tell me a story about how it ends, where you're still the good guy. i'll make pretend. '

' i hate this story where happiness ends and dies with you. '

' i thought good guys get to be happy. i'm not happy. '

' i was too young to notice that some types of love could be bad. '

' i'm tired of you still tied to me. '

' i'm too tired to move & too tired to leave. '

' love's never meant much to me. '

' i started to see you differently. '

' you wanna get my clothes off. '

' baby, if it feels good then it can't be bad. '

' you wanna fuck me right now. '

' if you hate me, please don't tell me. '

' i followed you in and i was with you there. '

' you love blood too much. but not like i do. '

' heard you, saw you, felt you, gave you. '

' need you, love you, love you, love you. '

' love you, saw you, felt you, love you. '

' love you, love you, love you, love you. '

' you'd do well to say yes to me. '

' suffer does the wolf, crawling to thee. '

' he's saying i'm the one, he's gonna take me. '

' suffering is nigh, drawing to me. '

' even the iron still fears the rot. '

' i'm hiding from something i cannot stop. '

' you poor thing. sweet, mourning lamb. '

' there's nothing you can do. it's already been done. '

' please don't look at me. '

' what have you done? '

' make it stop, make it stop, i've had enough, stop, stop, STOP! '

' i am the face of love's rage. '

' i am no good nor evil. simply, i am, and i have come to take what is mine. '

' i was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood. '

' i am here now as you run from me still. '

' you can't hide from me forever. '

' god loves you, but not enough to save you. '

' if they strike once then you just hit them twice as hard. '

' the more it hurts, the less it shows. '

' i think it's about time i put up a fight. '

' if it's meant to be then it will be. '

' i forgive it all as it comes back to me. '

' i can't let go when something's broken. '

' in your basement i grow cold. '

' don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love. '

' how funny, i never considered myself tough. '

' i tried to be good. '

' am i no good? '

' i just wanted to be yours. '

' can i be yours? '

' i'm happier here 'cause he told me i should be. '

' you're so handsome when i'm all over your mouth. '

' am i making you feel sick? '

' i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did. '

' don't think about it too hard or you'll never sleep a wink at night again. '

' just know that i love you and i'll see you when you get here. '

[enchantedchocolatebars]

A reminder:

Old Man Philip: ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Beardo Philip: ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Teen Philip: ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Kid Philip: ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ <3

Peacher Philip: ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Monster Philip: ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Hollow Mind Kid Philip: ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Chibi Belos Philip: ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Philip's literal skull at the end of "Watching And Dreaming" : ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Kaiju Philip: ❤️ (Imagine this as a heart a half emoji)

[007-nightfire-yakuza-agent]

good morning preachers and peachers

[partyofthree-au]

i figured it out (icecloud)

good LORD look at these fucking beasts of burden

- mod peachers

[skeezels]

Laios Touden's middle name is Peacher

[green199213]

peacher