#so trying to really commit to it this year!!

[khioneee]

simon acts as santa for your kid.

he was supposed to be the stoic, no-nonsense one. yet here he was, fully committed to the role of santa claus, going above and beyond for your child during the holiday season.

simon took the elf situation very seriously. every night after your child went to bed, he’d sneak around, setting up elaborate scenes. sometimes the elf was ‘caught’ stealing cookies from the jar, with crumbs left strategically on the counter. other times, it was perched on a stack of books with a tiny note saying, ‘reading helps santa know who’s good!’

in the mornings, he’d watch with a barely contained grin as your kid ran through the house, excitedly searching for the elf. the look of pure wonder on their face was worth every second of effort.

‘make sure santa knows what you want,’ he’d say, guiding your child to stick their wishlist on the fridge. of course, simon would ‘check it’ later, leaving behind a trail of flour dusted across the floor to mimic snowy footprints.

‘santa’s magic snow,’ he whispered to your child the next morning, pointing out the tracks. ‘he must’ve had a look last night.’

your kid’s eyes went wide, practically sparkling. ‘santa was here?!’

simon nodded solemnly, his eyes twinkling. ‘he’s keeping an eye on you.’

come christmas morning, the stocking was overflowing, filled with everything from sweets to little toys. santa went overboard this year. your child laughed in delight, and simon, trying to stay ‘in character,’ muttered, ‘guess santa thinks you’ve been extra good, huh?’

late on christmas eve, simon climbed onto the roof with a set of sleigh bells in hand. with quiet stomps and the occasional jingle, he created the illusion of santa and his reindeer making their grand departure. from the safety of their bedroom window, your child peeked out, eyes wide, whispering, ‘i hear him!’

you couldn’t help but laugh softly at simon’s commitment as he carefully climbed back down, boots crunching in the snow.

simon made sure to devour the cookies left out for santa—crumbs and all—and drained the milk, leaving behind a handwritten note:

‘thank you for the treats! keep being good, and i’ll see you next year!’

your kid squealed with joy when they found the note in the morning, clutching it like a treasure.

that night, after all the presents had been opened and the excitement had finally quieted, you found simon by the fire, still in his santa suit, looking exhausted but satisfied.

‘you really went all out,’ you whispered as you leaned over to kiss him.

simon shrugged, his face softening in the glow of the holiday lights. ‘they’ll only believe in this magic for so long,’ he murmured, brushing a hand through his hair. ‘figured i’d make it count.’

you smiled against his lips, kissing him again, the warmth of his dedication making your heart swell.

‘mommy, why are you kissing santa?’

[evie-sturns]

your christmas gift to matt 🎄

———————————————

it was coming to the end of the present opening, matt sits in a pile of teared up wrapping paper with the largest grin you’ve possibly ever seen on his face. his cheeks are a rosy red from the heating, which was definitely cranked up to the max after you kept complaining about how cold it was in this house.

“i love all of it- i mean how did you even think of this! i’ve wanted it for ages but i never said anything! it’s like you read my mind or some shit.” matt laughs excitability, a big smile spread across his face as he holds up the lego batman set you got him. “what can i say- you’re literally batman!” i tease, “i just sensed your aura, had to get the set for you.” i smile.

matt laughs, scooping up all of the wrapping paper around him and stuffing it in the bin bag.

he was just so clueless about what you had in store for him.

you and matt had been dating for 3 years now, you didn’t want kids, definitely not yet atleast, but there was one thing matt wanted, more than anything, which is basically the same concept…. all he yaps about is this one thing, he could never make the commitment to buy it, never. but you definitely could.

“matt- i have one last present for you.” i speak, fidgeting with your hands nervously. confusion washes over him, “but we already unwrapped everythi-“ he speaks, but he stops as i stand up, walking to behind the couch and pulling out a box. loosely wrapped in green christmas tree wrapping paper. his eyebrows furrow, as he stares at it.

i sit down on the floor infront of him, clutching the box in your lap.

“i uhm- hope you’re not too mad at me for this purchase- but you’ve always talked about it and-“ i ramble on and on, trying to downplay the present i just got him. “you’re edging me jesus.” he laughs, running a hand through his hair.

i place the box in his lap, and he instantly starts unwrapping it, to reveal a large cardboard box…

‘meeow’ a familiar noice booms throughout the box. matt’s head instantly snaps up to look at me, his lips slightly parted. his eyes are wide as he freezes. “no you didn’t-“ he instantly speaks, his voice soft and panicked. i gnaw on my bottom lip nervously as i look at him.

he gently lifts open the flaps of the cardboard box, peeking inside.

a cat. you had got him a cat. a fluffy white kitten, with bright blue eyes of course, to match matt’s.

his hand trembles as he reaches inside the box, gently lifting the small animal out. he clutches the kitten to his chest, holding it like it’s made of glass. his hands are fully shaking now, i can’t see his face due to the fact his hair is flopped infront of his as he looks down at it.

he’s fully silent, my heart thumps as i wait for any sort of reaction, but he just clings to the cat. his large hands almost covering the whole thing.

“do you- do you like it??” i speak nervously.

matt nods silently, before looking up at me with tear filled eyes, “i lov- i love her.” his voice breaks as he gently places the cat down in the box. he’s crying, oh my god.

“oh- aw matt-!” i laugh with a smile as he wipes at his eyes frantically. i pull him into my chest as he lets out a loud hiccup, his tears streaming down his face and dripping onto my christmas sweater.

“i’m sorry- i’m just really happy.” he sobs out through a laugh, his arms wrapped around my waist deathly tight. “i’ve always wanted- a cat and- and now we have one and-“ he cries, pulling away from my chest to lift the kitten out of the box. his whole body shaking as he holds it like his firstborn child. “i love her- i love you- thank you so much this is the best thing that’s ever happened-“ he rambles,

i feel my own emotions start to surface as i look at him, god i am so inlove with this man.

——————-

@ilovemymannnnnnn n @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl rl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl l girl @luvr4miya a @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit t @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts s @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 s2 @ev3rgreenxtrees ees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch h @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos s@sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn n @raysmayhem-72 2 @75sturn n @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 1 1 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz 4 @sassysturniolo2008 @sunsetsturniolos ver r @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall

[maykop1010]

Oh sweetie you trying to school me on what genocide and apartheid are, lol. I and my family survived a genocide and ethnic cleansing (one perpetrated by Israel).

But I’m sure this isn’t genocide, or war crimes or apartheid right boo.

"I felt like, like, like a Nazi... it looked exactly like we were actually the Nazis and they were the Jews."

Soldiers expressed anonymously how a discourse of hatred and revenge normalized the abuse of detainees.

"There is total dehumanization here. You don't really treat them as if they are human beings..."

"It's like a drug... you feel like you are the law, you make the rules. As if from the moment you leave the place called Israel and enter the Gaza Strip, you are God."

"I have no problem with women. One threw a slipper at me, so i gave her a kick here (pointing to the groin), broke all this here. She can't have children today."

"X shot an Arab four times in the back and got away with a self-defense claim. Four bullets in the back from a distance of ten meters ... cold-blooded murder. We did things like that every day."

"An Arab just walked down the street, about 25 years old, didn't throw a stone, nothing. Bang, a bullet in the stomach. Shot him in the stomach, and he was dying on the sidewalk, and we drove away Indifferently."

"A new commander came to us. We went out with him on the first patrol at six in the morning. He stops. There's not a soul in the streets, just a little 4-year-old boy playing in the sand in his yard. The commander suddenly starts running, grabs the boy, and breaks his arm at the elbow and his leg here. Stepped on his stomach three times and left."

"I asked the commander: "What's your story?" He told me: "These kids need to be killed from the day they are born. When a commander does that, it becomes legit."

These ppl know NOTHING but propoganda

[starrieangel]

🎄❤️Mouthwashing Crew on Christmas💚🎁

Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday ♡ Here's my present to you all: more headcanons!!

Features: Curly x Reader, Anya x Reader, Daisuke x Reader, Jimmy x Reader

rb's appreciated! 💚❤️

Curly☃️

I think Curly would love surprising you..!

He's up before you, already has the coffee (or hot chocolate or tea) ready for you when you wake up. 

When you finally get out of bed, there's extra presents under the tree, and the tree is even more festive and beautiful than how you left it!!

(Is Curly Santa..??)

He's not materialistic in the slightest, but a good gift means a lot to Curly if it shows you put a lot of thought into it..! It makes him feel special that you are thinking about him ^u^

He's a good gift giver, but bad at wrapping them XD He's trying his best ok !!!

After opening presents, you guys cuddle and watch your favorite goofy christmas movie while cuddled up in your new sweaters/socks/blankets :)

His favorite part of Christmas is Christmas dinner tho, and you guys whip up a big feast and invite all your friends and family !!! 

He’s the classic “my boyfriend only cooks meat” stereotype, like he cant cook but he will fuck up a christmas ham or a thanksgiving turkey or a barbecue.. let him cook fr

Bonus: Curly is definitely the Santa at the office Christmas party..!! Maybe you get to sit on Santa's lap ;D 

Anya❄️

Panicking because she's bad at getting gifts..!! 

She gets to the store and.. oh no there's too many choices

“I'm not sure what candy Y/N likes... I'll just get one of each.. oh dear..”

She would try making handmade gifts like sewing or knitting or crochet but she doesn't get them done til the last minute...

She dang near cries when you see the itchy, raggedy sweater she made you and you beam at her “I love it!!!” and you do! because she made it ♡

I feel like she likes peppermints and candy canes... just her vibe

You two make a gingerbread house together !!

Yes it falls apart a little, but it doesn't matter because you both had so much fun making it :) (and decorating it with all that candy she bought !!)

Bonus: She is a based eggnog drinker. And maybe she does spike her and Daisuke's eggnog at the office Christmas party ;D

Daisuke🎁

Ugly Christmas Sweater Party Winner 3 years in a row

(I like the popular headcannon that Daisuke likes thrifting, so) He loves going to the thrift to find ugly christmas sweaters (so you can match) and even finding cool antiques/retro items to give as gifts!

Always gives at least one prank gift, but otherwise he is pretty thoughtful! 

He doesn't get you a present unless it really reminds him of you! I feel like he gifts thrifted vinyls and jewelry, secondhand designer, like his gifts are honestly peak and they're always perfect for you

He's in charge of the Christmas party!! and he's committed to packing as many christmas themed activities into it as possible

Dedicated Christmas Movie Showing, gotta watch all the classics!

Hot chocolate bar, christmas cookie buffet, pin the nose on the reindeer, ALL OF IT 

Strategically ties mistletoe to ensure highest occurrence of Kissing You ;3 “Uh, oh, Y/N! Looks like we're caught under the mistletoe.. again! How unlucky.. guess we'll have to.. you knowww..” >:3c

Bonus: He would get tipsy at the office christmas party and would try to hug you or kiss you the whole time, and you’re like “plz ur embarrassing me”

Jimmy🎄

Jimmy is actually really good at getting gifts. Like, really good. Like, you mentioned this thing in passing 6 months ago, and he either remembered it or bought it for you and hid it for 6 months. He knows exactly what to get you!

He's not really a huge fan of the holidays

That being said: He enforces Mistletoe rules like it's his job

Everyone thinks he's a grinch, so he doesn't usually get the best presents from others. It doesn't help that he never makes a christmas list or tell anyone what he wants 

(mostly because he doesn't want to be disappointed when he asks for something and doesn't get it, or he's afraid to ask for something “dorky” that he actually really wants)

When you ask him what he wants for christmas, he just kind of shrugs and says he'll like whatever you get him

So it's extra special when you return the favor and get him a gift just as thoughtful as he gave you :) You get him the video game or album or band tee (idk what men like) that he offhandedly mentioned weeks ago :) He can't hold in his surprise that you remembered!

“Woah, babe! I can't believe you remembered.. This is perfect, thank you baby” And then he wraps you into a tight hug!

Bonus: Yea, Jimmy had to fill in as Santa one year when Curly was busy/sick....... He made a kid cry.

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know in the replies what you think, send an ask if you have a request, and rb if u liked! Thanks for reading!💚❤️

Merry Christmas!! ☃️💚🎄❤️❄️❤️🎄💚🎁☃️❄️❤️❄️❤️🎄💚

[sleepynoons]

SANTA TELL ME BY ARIANA GRANDE – sunday (hsr) x f!reader, guardian angel!au + college!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~2,700 warnings – explicit language synopsis – to put it quite simply, you have horrible taste in men. you're more than aware of it, so this year, you really, really, really want santa to hear you out because god definitely hasn't. but what you don't know is that someone does love you very dearly – you just can't see him.

Sunday ought to change positions. In fact, his sister, Robin, had notified him of an opening two weeks ago, no doubt confidential information that still somehow made its way through the Department, and he really should have brought it up with his manager. But more than likely, the position has already been taken, and even if it was not, no one gets to transfer at such a dire time in the year.

Holidays are what the Department calls “High Risk Periods.” In other words, during these trying times, humans are more prone to injuring themselves, usually from their own idiocy and recklessness, and that means Sunday and his guardian angel colleagues have to work overtime to prevent any major accidents or incidents, unless instructed otherwise in the Book of Fates. After all, humans seem to have found a plethora of ways to amuse themselves – getting drunk till they black out, doing parkour across the roofs of buildings dozens of floors tall, having disastrous sociopolitical conversations at the dinner table that devolve into screaming matches, the list goes on. Robin says she finds them entertaining, while Sunday constantly wonders why he was assigned to the Department in the first place.

Regardless, there is one truth about humans that Sunday wholly believes in. Out of all the humans he has been assigned to, you, especially, are stupid.

–

For the first time in weeks, your phone’s silent. No texts, no phone calls – not even a single email notification! Even your college seems to have decided to leave you alone when you least want it to. You lift your head, taking one last peek at your screen, and wail in disappointment and sadness despite knowing nothing will have changed within the second since your last glance.

Your girl friend grunts in response. She’s been sitting beside you in your room for the past few hours, having fallen victim to your post-breakup breakdown.

You yell into your pillow. “Why isn’t he reaching back out!”

“Because he’s a man,” she deadpans. 

You flip over so that you’re lying on your bed, face staring up at the ceiling, before letting out a pathetic moan again.

With teary eyes and trembling lips, you choke out, “I really thought he was the one.”

Bewildered, your friend drops her phone onto the floor. “What in the fuck are you saying, darling.”

“No, really! He’s so sweet and has this impish smile –“

“Sweetheart, you’ve been reading too many YA novels. No one fucking calls a smile ‘impish.’”

“– and he always bought me flowers when I least expected it.”

You release a dreamy sigh, with a slight undertone of frustration and envy. Since you started college three years ago, you haven’t really had any luck with long-lasting relationships. In your defense, first year’s meant to be spent frolicking, meeting different potential partners, and not really holding any expectations. Second year’s when you’re supposed to start settling down and finding an actual boyfriend, but sometimes, you just don’t meet someone who clicks. Unfortunately, even though you’re already halfway through your third year now, your misfortune seems to be nowhere near ending.

But you’re really trying! During the school year, you made sure to do your makeup and wear cute sets to class every day. You even got a new perfume – a little sweet, a lot more floral – to make sure your presence was known and committed to memory, and the new hair oil you rubbed through the ends of your hair had been giving you that extra healthy sheen and glow. And to your best judgment, your personality isn’t that bad either.

Your girl friend knows what you’re thinking by the downturn of your mouth. “It’s not you, love. You just don’t have the best… eye for men.”

“But aren’t you supposed to date men who can at least do the bare minimum?” The more you think about your now ex, the more you want to shrivel in a corner and question yourself. After all, you were hoping to spend all winter break long with your ex, but now you’re totally, completely, definitely alone for the holidays.

Your friend scooches over to the head of the bed and pats your arm with gentle thumps of her palm. “Yes, but they have to be consistent, too. Your ex may have been nice, but only sometimes. Remember how he forgot about your dates and always showed up late? Or that time you asked him to get painkillers, but he totally forgot because he went to the gym for four hours instead?”

You can only nod, unable to refute these instances of your ex’s incompetence. And by the knowing look on your girl friend’s face, it seems she has a laundry list more.

“I was just trying to give him the benefit of the doubt,” you mutter. You know you sound so naïve, but truly, you can’t help it. You don’t like it when others find fault in you, so you’re just doing the same for others – that’s the golden rule, right?

She gives you one final pat before standing up and stretching.

“Enough about this douche,” she says, with a sense of ultimatum to her tone. “Our Christmas party’s still happening, and who knows, maybe you’ll find a cute guy there.”

That’s true – at least there’s one good thing you can look forward to this winter break. You’re not returning home, so you’re celebrating Christmas with some other students who have also decided to stay on campus. You don’t know any of them, with the exception of your girl friend, well, so this party will be a good opportunity to meet someone new and outside of your usual circles.

Though you still feel sluggish, you do your best to follow your girl friend’s lead and drag yourself out of bed. When both of your feet are planted on the floor, you feel slightly more grounded. With a deep breath, you glance at your friend, and when the two of you lock eyes, for the first time since the breakup, you feel like there is a way up.

–

There’s another thing that humans do that Sunday finds incredibly odd: they never dress properly for the weather. Whether it be forgetting an umbrella or wearing shoes that’ll easily get soaked through by snow or dressing so bare and scantily in the dead of winter, Sunday simply cannot wrap his head around it.

He’s hovering above the edge of your bed as he watches you and your friend chatter about. He does not usually clock in at night out of respect for your privacy and space – which is, in reality, a moot point, since you do not know that he is there in the first place –, but you previously had a fiasco where you knocked over a glass cup in your drunken stupor and left a deep gash in your hand. That gash was not supposed to be there, and Sunday has learned his lesson to always supervise you when you are out and about, socializing and mingling and making out with strangers.

Sunday sighs as he watches you fidget with the end of your dress. As always, you seem to try to wear as little as possible when it is literally freezing outside. The ponds in your neighborhood have frozen over. The weather forecast reported an intense cold draft. Yet your jitters are not from the chill or wind – they are solely from your excitement. When your girl friend tells you to fold the dress up by another inch, to show off more of your arse, something in Sunday’s temple jumps unpleasantly. But of course, you nod enthusiastically in agreement, and he blocks his sight with his wings as you lean over your dresser in search of a safety pin.

Sunday knows your only singular goal tonight is to find another “catch of a guy” to satiate your needs. He wants to scream at you – to wear more? to keep it in your pants? something else? maybe all of the above? –, but guardian angels are forbidden from appearing or interacting with their humans. He also reminds himself that he is not your mother, so there is no need for him to worry over you when he does not need to. He should only be stressed if he has to intervene.

He sighs as he follows the two of you out of your apartment. He really hopes your idiotic antics will not cost too much of his patience, and if they do, he swears he will put in a transfer request next year.

It does not take long for you to find your prey for the night. You arrived at another student’s apartment where a small crowd had already gathered on the floor, all exchanging drinks in red plastic cups and hiccuping with veins full of vodka and whisky. You join, naturally finding a spot beside who you deem to be the cutest in the room, while Sunday miniaturizes himself so that he can sit on top of your head.

The room is so loud, and woody cologne, gingerbread, and hair spray do not go together. But what he hates most is the direction in which your conversation is headed.

“Never seen you around,” your prey comments with a flash of a toothy grin.

You hum and nod your head vigorously. “Yeah! That’s so odd, since we’re in the same year and all.”

“For sure,” he continues, tone already a little too bold for a pre-game, “I definitely wouldn’t forget a face as pretty as yours.”

Guardian angels are supposed to be ambivalent towards humans in general, but even that poor excuse of a pickup line wants Sunday to abort his job. But you still eat it up, and he feels his blood pressure rise.

The two of you continue to make small talk before the majority of the group decides to relocate to someone else’s unit, which is larger and has freshly baked brownies resting in the oven. But because this apartment is bigger, you and your partner manage to find yourselves a comfortable corner, distancing yourselves from everyone else to have more “privacy.”

You ask, “Why are you staying back on campus?”

With a shrug, he responds, “Flights are expensive. I was upset at first, but…”

You cock your head to the side, look up, and flutter your eyelashes. Sunday’s eyebrow quirks, but he is not sure if it is out of annoyance or something else. That is your signature move, your flawless routine to pull boys in, and he has seen it over and over again before.

“But… what?” you ask, voice shy yet tinged with coyness.

He shakes his head. He needs to remain calm, vigilant, and most importantly, neutral. As a result, he decides the best thing he can do is abandon his post as an eavesdropper and entertain himself with other matters. He stands up and flutters down to reach your shoulders. As he descends, he watches as one of your eyelashes falls to rest on the apple of your cheek. He would move it out of the way – obviously to assist your efforts in getting your prey, not that the guy has noticed it in the first place –, but he knows he cannot. He then observes your earrings. Although he tries, the metal does not reflect his person, and he does not understand why he reacts with a drop in his stomach.

Frustrated with all these questions and indeterminants, Sunday perches on your shoulder.

At some point, you excuse yourself for another drink. Sunday follows closely, occasionally intervening so that you do not bump into other crossed students and experience another catastrophe. However, once you get your cup of punch, instead of returning to your partner for the night, you head over to the bathroom. Sunday is not sure if he should join you, but there is a glint in your eyes, something that triggers his intuition that you are planning something reckless and most likely desperate, so he stays rooted to your shoulder.

And lo and behold, his intuition has never failed him, and it does not tonight either. You down the juice in one go, slap your cheeks with your hands quite forcefully, and look at yourself square in the mirror. Sunday wishes he could have slapped his hands over your mouth.

You say, with feverish determination and promise, “I will not screw up! I think he’s the one, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure we work out! It’s Christmas, too, so I should be extra lucky!”

Sunday cannot resist the urge to roll his eyes. It is more than obvious that that guy is only in for a good time, not a long time. This is why Sunday insists you are one of the stupidest humans he has ever had the misfortune to work with.

But whenever he explains how much of a lost cause you are to Robin, rather than believing him, his sister questions him instead.

“Are you sure, Brother?” she once asked.

“Yes, absolutely! How can one be so blind!” he proclaimed as the feathers of his wings ruffled with displeasure.

“Well, I think your human is just dense, and I find that quite adorable. Is it not?”

Sunday quieted immediately.

Even to this day, he chalks his failure to respond up to the sheer shock at his sister’s reaction. It is not surprising in that his sister finds a human adorable – many of his coworkers often express their never-ending fascination and curiosity towards human nature, behaviors, and quirks. Rather, it is unjustified to find your idiocy, your denseness, your ignorance cute, and that makes him seethe.

Now, though, he is not sure his original conclusion or feelings are right or appropriate. As you head back, a strong desire to prevent you from finding that man stirs within his gut. Of course, Sunday does not act on such unreasonable urges, but truly, he would be lying to himself if he said he was neutral when it came to matters concerning you. Again, perhaps he is just impatient, perhaps he does not want to deal with your grief-stricken self – especially when your state is caused by an inconsequential man’s actions –, perhaps he simply does not want to see you unhappy.

But neither of your wishes come true. 

You return to the living room, only to find your desired partner cozying up with another girl. Sunday can only watch, looking up as he sees tears, droplets so large relative to his miniature size, stream down the sides of your cheek and chin. When you are not looking, more occupied with scampering back to your apartment as quickly as possible, he catches one of your droplets in his hands, observing it as it hovers in front of him, still failing to show his reflection. He lets it go moments later, but how he wishes he could hold onto it for longer.

But more than that, he knows he would never make you cry like that. If only he was allowed, even one chance, to speak to you, knock some sense into you, demonstrate to you the treatment that you deserve. That way, you would learn your lesson, your true worth, and he would feel like he is actually doing his job as your guardian angel.

In the back of his mind, though, Sunday knows he would never actually feel satisfied – and that he will always worry over you, no matter what. After all, there is a reason why that rule is in place, and it is not to regulate humans. Indeed, humans are fickle creatures. Guardian angels, on the other hand, watch over a human from the time they are born to the day they die. This rule was created to keep the angels in check – to restrain their possession, greed, and lust from running amuck.

Robin is right. You are as downright adorable as you are clueless. But he did not want anyone else to find out, despite knowing there is nothing – nothing at all – that he can do about that.

winter event masterlist

[undertalecookingwithkindness]

A Very Merry Christmas from The Eclipse!

It's that time of the year again! A time of merriment, jolliness and generosity! A time of hot cocoa, candy canes and gingerbread! A time of KINDNESS! It's Christmas!!!!

The staff at The Eclipse is getting everything ready for a big celebration, as you can see! The Christmas cheer is really flowing, though someone should probably go help Luna untangle themself from the Christmas lights... Still, why don't we have a look under the tree and at the gifts... Oh! It looks like one of them has your name on it! I wonder what it is?

Surprise! It's an update on Undertale Cooking With Kindness!

(Hmm, you don't look very surprised, were you shaking the gift box to figure out what was in it?)

UPDATE

It feels like we've been pretty quiet since the Halloween Update, huh? And that's for a good reason. As many of you may be intimately familiar with, the first chunk of December tends to be a time not of holly jolly cheer, but of hellish torture. Yes, I'm of course talking about

EXAM SEASON!!!

Indeed, many of our team members, myself included, were focusing on exams and schoolwork all of December and much of November, so very little progress has been made. Still, that doesn't mean no progress was made. We've got a lot to how off for you all today, but first, we've got a new team member to introduce you to.

Welcome our new artist and spriter: LightMoonCream! They drew Sunny in the Christmas illustration! You may be familiar with them from their work on Nighfell, but they've decided to hop on board the wild ride that is bringing The Eclipse to life! In the spirit of Christmas, let's all give them a very merry welcome to the team!

Speaking of very merry welcomes... It appears there's someone else that needs some introducing, I'm sure you've noticed him in the illustration or in the previous post that teased him, but it's finally time to properly introduce you to...

Courier!

Courier will be helping out with deliveries in the Eclipse. After all, everyone in the underground deserves a taste of the food at the Eclipse no matter how close or far they may live. Mawzz understood the potential in incorporating a delivery service into the business, so he called up one of his debtors goons employees. Courier will be flying you all across the Underground to help you deliver orders put in by customers.

According to Mawzz, and to his uniform, he used to work for the Underground Postal Service, but was fired for unknown reasons. He doesn’t talk about why that happened, but his firing does create a very shady gap in his resume...

Courier is a very outwardly serious and brooding monster. He’s here for business, not to make friends. However… he does have quite a few things that break through that cold exterior. He’s a little embarrassed about it, but he just can’t resist the allure of a shiny coin or of some sweet treat. Give him what he wants, and he may just open up a little bit. Just a bit though. The mask of coolness may be a façade, and perhaps not exactly a convincing one, but it’s one he’s committed to, damn it!

I suppose we should take a small aside to introduce deliveries. Staying in one place in the underground is cozy and all, but don't you feel like you're missing out on some fun exploration? Well, in deliveries, you'll leave the Eclipse and head off to familiar areas of the Underground to try and give a loyal customer their food. Sounds simple, right? What could possibly go wrong!

Do keep in mind, though, deliveries aren't planned to be included in the first demo. Still, that doesn't mean we have nothing to show off related to them.

You know what time it is? Get your carolling books out, because it's time for the

MUSIC SECTION

One of the areas you'll be making an excursion into for deliveries is the quaint and quiet Snowdin Town. The town is even smaller than the one you know in Undertale, so the new remix is even simpler sounding to match. A homely snow-filled paradise where everyone knows each other and is merry... It's quite appropriate, don't you think? It really fits the vibe of the season.

It's cold out there alone... The wind cuts into you and won't let you forget how small you are, won't let you forget the pain of the path you chose for yourself. You had a choice between comfort and the cold, and now your only company is the chill of the flurry.

UPDATED TRACKS!

An updated version of the intro theme courtesy of Venn November (or is December?) It's not an immediately noticeable difference, but once you listen to the old version and the new version back to back, it's clear to see. Close your eyes and imagine the epic intro that could be attached to this song...

Ok, now open them again, we've got one more updated track to show off:

At last, Customer Approaching is finally out of the draft stage and is complete! I hope you enjoy this theme, cause as you work your daily shifts at The Eclipse, you'll become very familiar with this song. Hey, would you rather listen to this on loop for a couple of minutes or the same Christmas playlist on loop for weeks? You gotta give our real retail workers their flowers!

Ok, that's enough music talk for now, it's time to actually talk about the progress on the game!

GAME PROGRESS

As I said before, progress was stunted somewhat during the past few months, but that doesn't mean we haven't done anything. In fact... It is with great pride and joy that I announce that the cooking system is almost complete! Yes, the bones of the cooking system have been all mostly put in place and stress-tested. You can almost complete a full day of work at The Eclipse. We've implemented the timer, customer waves, the functional COOK button, and a handful of minigames. We're currently hard at work implementing the final piece of the foundation of our unique gameplay: Recipes and Reputation/Prestige! To talk more in depth about this, please welcome our resident back-end coding and implementation expert: Moist!

"The primary 'battle' system is underpinned by a custom-built module that tracks Sunny's progress as they prepare a meal for a customer of The Eclipse, keeps a repository of all the recipes sunny is capable of making stored nice and safe their head, and calculates how well they've done afterward. In the final release, You may be able to cook more complex recipes in later days. As it stands, early recipes will be less complex, but the handler seems fairly stable in its current state!"

— moist

There you have it, in the coming weeks we'll finish implementing this final piece, and at that point the cooking system will be complete! From there, it's just a matter of creating the encounters and waves, stress-testing and polishing, and voilá! We'll be able to show off entirely finalized days of cooking, and from there we'll be all set up to start proper work on the demo.

But what about beyond cooking? What's progress looking like on the overworld, cutscenes and etc.?

Well, we've got a lot of the maps from the demo, well, not done, but set up for integration as we move our focus into cutscene and scene creation. In fact, ignoring some unfinished cutscenes, the map for the game's intro area is complete! Hopefully with some elbow grease from me and the rest of the team in the coming months, those cutscenes will be completed, and the demo maps we're still missing will be set up.

In short, while we were slowed down for the past few months, it seems as if these next few months are going to be very productive for us. Everything seems to be coming up Sunny!

One final thing before we sign off... I'm sure everybody's clamouring for some sort of release date for the demo, but despite all the work we've done, we can't promise an exact date. All we know is that we're hoping to be able to release the first demo in late 2025, but we can't confidently assure you that that will happen. As always, though, if you think you can help that happen, do send me a DM on Discord (shadowofroserade) with an application to join the team.

However, we would still like to announce a planned release date for something else. If all goes according to plan the reveal trailer for Undertale Cooking with Kindness should come out in January*, so stay seated everybody! We've got an appetizer to die for coming up!

*while that is the current plan, it is quite possible that it will be delayed into February depending on future circumstances.

Until then...

Kind Regards,

The Eclipse.

[nerdanel01]

No. 7 - the marriage proposal from Love Is A Stranger

Several things—bizarre, inexplicable, and world-shattering things—all happened at once then, in a stupendous and stupefying sequence.

Firstly: that Emmrich let go of Eric— willingly, without fight. Agnes had somewhat suspected she’d never be able to part them without physically prising Eric out of his father’s arms ever again. He unwound their child from his waist, and placed him, delicately, onto his stomach, back on the heavy blanket they had set out upon the floor.

Secondly: that—in fully the weirdest, most off-putting display of necromancy Agnes had ever seen Emmrich commit (and he had done some weird shit)—with a gesture and a bit of wordless magic, he had summoned a macabre joinwork of skeletal hands waving on skeletal forearms, ensconcing Eric with enough room for him to roam on hands and knees, but without the possibility of him wandering far and hurting himself, or getting filthy, or putting something in his mouth he oughtn’t. Effective, perhaps—but also, nightmare-inducing. Eric—who was too young to recognize bone matter when he saw it, and lacked even the cognitive wherewithal to know what a bone was —found the entire trick delightful, and was giggling gleefully from his osseous confines.

Thirdly: that Emmrich was stalking towards her with a look of starved determination, like a wolf in winter on the doorstep of death.

Fourthly—and the last thing she noticed, before her world inverted and shook her about like a piggy bank from which it was trying to extract, not so much coins, but the hope of coins, coins imagined, stuck somewhere in ceramic recesses; and the violence of that shaking was such that Agnes was not entirely sure it had really happened—she swore she heard him muttering indignantly under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like,“what I must do…”

Then he snaked an arm around her waist, tilted her chin up to his face, and kissed her full on the mouth.

She had been prepared for this morning, for this confrontation—this negotiation of Eric’s future—to go any number of ways, but this had decidedly not been one of them. She went utterly limp with shock—like a corpse freshly dead, before rigor had begun to set—and would have fallen to the ground completely, had it not been for Emmrich’s grip around her, holding her fast against him. 

He kissed her softly, gently, and her heart pounded madly against her ribs like a rabbit trying to escape a trap; it made no sense. He had said he wanted nothing to change between them. He had said….

He pulled his mouth away from hers to breath into the space between them, to brush the words against her lips, much too kindly, much too patiently:

“Was that so loveless to you?”

Loveless? Love? Was this love? Her heart afire like it was going to fail, a panicked sweat breaking out across her brow, her stomach performing world-class circus acrobatics. Oh, heavens—would she even know love if she saw it, now? It had been a stranger to her from the death of her mother, through the long and lonely years until the birth of her son. And the love she felt for Eric never made her feel so feeble and frightened, as she did now, like a cornered animal.

“Emmrich….”

Both low warning and plea.

“Nessa, forgive me,” he said—hearing him call her by that old endearment felt as warm and comfortable as sinking into a hot, just-drawn bath—and his long-fingered warm hand came to cup her face, and she thought, ‘what for? It is I who absconded with your firstborn.’ But his next words sent icy chills down what little spine she had left. 

“All this time, I did not see. I have been an utter fool. I had no idea.”

He spoke with such sober, sagacious understanding, and Agnes was terrified: terrified of what he had seen in the blank spaces between her words, in all the things she had not said. Her heart felt as though it was about to arrest. He kept his forehead kissed to hers, and his thumb stroked away the sudden tears spilling down her cheek as he spoke:

“Already you are the mother of my son. Be my beloved; be my wife; and be assured there will be nothing loveless about it. Lay down beside me each evening in this waking life, and let those who outlive us lay your bones beside mine in death, or else suffer my wrath at being parted from you. Agnes Gallatus, my brave and brilliant companion, marry me, and grant me the privilege of loving you for the rest of our mortal and eternal days.”

…Agnes had accused him of insincerity, but now, Emmrich smacked of sincerity. He was the very picture of sincerity. The sincerity and warmth and affection in his brown-flecked green eyes was, quite frankly, both astonishing and a little embarrassing for Agnes to behold, and it rendered her utterly mute.

He had measured the black hole of her heart by its perimeter alone, though she had never made mention of it. He had seen in that pit everything she had never said, so transparent, so see-through, so paper thin was she to him after all these years. He had seen it, plucked it free, and he had spoken it aloud—voiced her heart’s most sacred, impossible desire, as though doing so did not threaten to rend her to shreds—and all but promised her that she could have it. 

After all these years, he had unmade her in an instant, ripped away all the walled protection she had built around her heart to keep her sane, to keep her safe.

And then—with infinite grace, for which Agnes might have kissed him herself if she could have managed to make her mouth obey her thoughts—Emmrich gave it all back to her. He gave her a choice.

“Or don’t,” he said, simply, and stepped away from her, leaving her heady and jelly-legged and propped against the kitchen table behind her. “Tell me no. You owe me nothing, and I will not resent you if you prefer a… different path. I want you, but only willing; and if you do not want me, I will not abandon you to the whims of my father. I will support you in finding a way for this to work for both of us—most of all, for Eric.” 

Agnes felt the world re-solidify beneath her feet, only for the whole if it to go wobbly and uncertain again when Emmrich concluded with his final coup: 

“But do not deceive yourself nor dishonor me ever again, Agnes, by implying either directly or indirectly that I would have married you merely out of convenience. Out of obligation, or duty.” His mouth—his mouth which he had very recently and most unexpectedly pressed against her mouth, her mouth which still burned with the memory of his upon it—twitched beneath his dark mustache into a wistful smile. 

“You are—have always been—much more to me than that.”

…was this love? This roaring of her own blood in her ears, this incoherency? This breathlessness as she fisted her hand in his shirt and drew him near to her again, whispered his name—

“Emmrich…”

—as he whispered breathlessly back, “yes…?”

Agnes kissed him softly—tentatively—almost suspiciously, with her eyes still open; the faintest, most virginal brush of her lips against his. His eyes fluttered closed when her mouth met his; before he could blink them open again she pressed a bolder kiss to his lips; then another.

And he did not run. He did not stop her. He did not change his mind. He did not bargain or plead or try to negotiate with her. When she withdrew, Emmrich only looked at her with infinite patience—looked at her mouth with gentlemanly restraint, with thinly veiled hunger. 

Agnes parted her legs; Emmrich sidled his lean body between them. And she kissed him, then, properly: open-mouthed, eyes closed.

And he kissed her in a way he had never kissed her before—none of the guilt, nor the shame, nor the restraint that had dogged and chained him when they had first collided so many months ago—full-bodied, groaning obscenely into her mouth. Agnes (who had not been touched with desire since that night, and—since Eric’s birth, and the utter mangle it had made of her body—had rarely since even touched herself) felt herself go wet at the sound alone. Her hands gripped his hips, pulled him nearer, and Agnes cried aloud, piteously, nearly undone at the irrefutable evidence of his enthusiasm pressing hot and urgent against her thigh. It did not seem prudent, to be rutting with Emmrich on her kitchen table with their infant son mere feet away... but each incredulous, half-gasped moan of pleasure that Emmrich poured hotly into her ears went straight to her gut; sent tingles down her spine; sent her back arching off the table—it would not take her long, she would not last—

The table shuddered beneath them.

The hot pot of half-burned porridge began to roll off its trivet.

Emmrich was faster than Agnes. With a half-muttered curse, he grabbed the pot, bare-handed—swearing again as his skin made contact with the hot iron, setting the precariously wobbling pot upright before it came away an ugly, raw, red. When he met her eyes again, he did so with an embarrassed laugh, a blush sweetly coloring the high points of his cheeks.

Agnes took his hand between hers, pressed a kiss to his fingertips as her magic washed over him—simple, elementary healing magic, the kind Emmrich had taught her how to master—soothing the burned skin, then repairing it entirely. Long past the point when his hand was renewed, she kept brushing her fingers over his palms, her eyes locked on his.

“When I return to the Necropolis today,” he told her, deep-voiced and throaty but smiling all the while, “do I have your permission to share the good news with Johanna?”

“What good news?” she teased him, pressing a coy kiss to the tip of his nose before ducking out of his arms, sweeping Eric out of the morbid playpen Emmrich had erected to contain him. “And put that ghastly display away, now, will you?”

With a gesture, the bone crumbled to cremains. Lovely. Agnes would have to beat the blanket out in the sun, to launder it heavily before she let Eric anywhere near it again. Before she could berate Emmrich for this, he slipped his arms around her waist, tucked his chin over her shoulder, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and told her the good news:

“That you are to be my wife.”

Agnes quirked her lips in a bashful smile, glad for the way his head was tucked against her shoulder, for it hid somewhat the girlish look she was wearing from gaze. 

“I don’t recall agreeing to your offer.”

“Are you refusing, then?”

“...No.” 

Agnes turned in his arms, Eric nestled safe and warm between them. And her cheeks were really aflame now. And she could not help it; and she did not care.

“Andraste preserve me, I don’t know how I’ll ever have the heart to refuse you anything now, Emmrich Volkarin,” she told him, in a tone that might have been chiding, if it were not so saturated with fondness. “You have won. I will love you; I will be your wife; I will gladly be wholly and utterly yours.” [read full chapter] --- I’m really proud of all the writing I did this year! So for the last ten days of 2024 I’m going to be reblogging my 10 favorite pieces that I wrote.

This is excerpted from my accidental pregnancy/Dad!Emmrich fic. I'm proud of Love Is A Stranger in general—I basically wrote it on a whim because two people enabled me—but this is probably one of my favorite passages in the whole fic, where all the miscommunications are finally getting resolved and Emmrich finally gets to be full devastatingly passionate and charming.

[jtl-fics]

I’m sorry about your seasonal depression. The lack of sunlight really gets to me too. I hope you’re finding ways to cope. Pretty Boy please.

12/18/24 WIP Wednesday (CLOSED) | Pretty Boy

Andrew stands up and gestures towards the kitchen and Neil gets it without words as he also rises up from his seat and the two head into the kitchen to grab dessert. The chocolate cake is good, but having eyes on Aaron is better as his twin talks with Allison about something. He listens in and realizes that he’s trying to figure out a good quality but not break the bank piece of jewelry to get Katelyn for Christmas.

“I want something that says I’m committed but like…not a ring. Kate’s been clear that we’re endgame but she’s not accepting one until we’re at Med School at minimum and I wanna get her something really good, so I’m okay with waiting.” Aaron rambles as Allison sips her martini but nods along.

“Get her a necklace, something that’ll dangle by her heart.” Allison says, “You and I can look for something that’s part of a general set so that you can buy her pieces of it for the next couple years and it’ll be a complete set eventually.”

Merry WIPMAS! Check out what is on offer: HERE

[adviceformefromme]

A little personal note and advice as we wrap up 2024!!

Finally getting some time to myself...Currently in the process of moving apartments so just finding some time now to write and share. It’s been another crazy year. I am always amazed at my life and the things I accomplish each year. The theme for 2024 was definitely healing and wellbeing, and for that I have made transformational change. Some things I did that really made 2024 transformational.

Moved overseas, moved into the apartment that had been occupying my vision board for years. The process to moving overseas started 12 months prior, I went ghost for a few months prayed and meditated every single day asking God for where I should move to (I didn’t know where my vision board home was), I was guided to a location, trialled living there for almost 3 months fell in love, returned home to sort my visa and finally made an official move 1 year later. This was a process of listening to Gods direction and being obedient. I tried to move abroad before and it was truly not in God’s plan, I wasted time, energy and money seeking something that was not for me. Lesson learnt. Listen for God’s direction always. Take action from that place.

I went from having the worst birthday of my entire life last year, to having the best birthday of my entire life this year. The reason I share this is because those dark places you’re in right now can literally be a catapult to your dream life, just like the previous story. In my darkness last year, I swore to have the very best birthday this year. A yacht, girls trip, amazing food, music. I imagined it all, and I did it all. It was incredible. I loved being on the yacht, I loved that I arranged it and I loved that my dreams were possible. I planned this trip from January with friends and at points I thought it wasn’t going to happen, the boat prices were super expensive, the boat I loved didn’t allow food.. But I persisted. I convinced the boat to make an exception. It was truly a magical birthday. And the lesson is to dream big and make plans, even if you don’t have the funds, even if it’s seems wild. You can experience your dream life if you stay focused and committed (time and planning makes this a lot easier).

Walking away from people you care deeply about, for your own wellbeing. There was a particular person in my life who actually transformed me, this connection was one of those that shift the entire direction of your life, they lift the veil and open your eyes to a new way of thinking, of seeing yourself and loving yourself. But these people are like angels that come to help and heal  you, but sadly have to leave when that season is over. And this was the case, I did try to hold on for longer but, every part of me knew my season with this person had past. As painful as this is, walking away means it’s back in God’s hands. By doing this I allow space for alignment, I allowed myself to trust, and stay true. You always know in your heart when you are going against yourself, when you are wanting more than someone can give you, when you are holding on when it’s time to let go. And by being brave, and remaining graceful you can appreciate what was, and welcome more truth.

I invested in my health on a new level. Infra-red sauna and ice bath spa weekly. Removed carbs from my diet. Green juices daily. High protein. Blood works every 12 months. Health checkups. Supplements. Homemade goats milk kefir. Low-tox living. Gym membership. Bi monthly acupuncture. Chiropractor adjustments. Dry body brushing. Weekly bone-broth. Only buying clothing made from natural fibres (linen, cotton, wool). No polyester. Downloaded Yuka app to ensure I am checking the harm rating of products I buy. This transformation has resulted in  a deeper self love and care. I have no desire for alcohol, for anything toxic in my body. This journey started with a health scare last summer and resulted in a complete holistic lifestyle change. It didn’t happen overnight. It’s been a process, and there is still a way to go. But my key takeaway is to continue to educate myself and learn about living better, because every change I have made has enhanced my life on a new level. 

As I wrap up this year, I am reminded that I am responsible for creating the life of my dreams. It’s the efforts I make, the choices - daily. The books I read, the conversations I have, the risks I take. The vison board I stay close to. Listening to God, prayers, actions. The actions are KEY. Next year I plan to go braver and bolder. No dream is too big. 2025 I am coming for you! 

[blackpearlblast]

Eight Nights of Hope

Last year, I didn't really celebrate Hanukkah, at least not in an emotional sense. I was too busy grieving as I witnessed merciless killing in the Gaza strip, along with my religion being used as an excuse for that killing. And this year, depressingly little has changed. In many ways, things are worse than ever, while changes in my own physical health have impacted the methods with which I can fight for change.

This year I want to celebrate Hanukkah, and I want you all to help me. Hanukkah is, to me, a holiday about hope. Specifically, it's a holiday about not giving up hope when everything looks utterly impossible and hopeless, and putting forward what little you have to try to spark some light in the darkness. It's an assertion that you can never know what is truly hopeless until you've tried, and that the fragile act of trying can bring forth an inferno of light and warmth that can last far longer than you could have ever imagined.

Using Tumblr is still hard for me, but I've set up a queue that will post once for every night of Hanukkah so that I don't have to log in more than once. Each post has a campaign for a family from Gaza who is either trying to survive amidst the genocide or managed to flee before the border closed and are now trying to survive in a new place with their lives entirely uprooted. It would mean so, so much to me if you could try to give a little bit to each of them. I know times are rough, so if giving the minimum amount to each campaign is still too much, you could try alternating and giving to every other campaign. And even if you can only donate to one campaign, the candle that stands alone-- the shamash-- could be considered the most important candle of all; after all, it is responsible for lighting all of the other eight. And if there's nothing at all you can give- well, wipe that thought out of your mind because sharing this post and the posts with the campaigns is something! Personally, I will be committing to donating ~20 USD per campaign (a little inexact due to GoFundMe requiring you to donate in the currency the campaign is hosted in and not your own currency). I really hope you can join me with whatever you can give, whether it's 20 USD per campaign, or 5, or a reblog and telling a friend. Let's try to use what little we have to shine some light into this cold, empty night we are witnessing. We never know how much impact it could have until we try.

Check the #eight nights of hope tag on my blog to see all of the nights that have been posted so far!

[alastor-simp-page]

Tell Me I'm Crazy

Stan Pines x OC (really just reader)

Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Con x Cop, ridiculous weird gravity falls stuff, etc.

Anyways, Stan Pines drives Officer Shepard insane and she does the same.

What little I’ve heard of Gravity Falls is that it's a sleepy town buried in Oregon state. All in all, an uneventful place with minimal crime, which is unfortunately what my job relies upon. So…as I tapped the steering wheel, speeding down an open road in Oregon country, I wondered: what is the point? Well, I know the point that Chief Thompson had drilled into my head for two straight hours. By the time, I’m sure he had even gotten to the meat of the information I probably, actually needed, I was slumped and done. 

So, here I am with the beautiful yet same sights streaming by over and over again. Redwoods, the occasional animal scurrying along somewhere within the woods. The sights that I kept hearing Rachel blabbering about for some odd minutes have grown quickly dull. I should’ve expected it. Sleepy town, in the middle of nowhere, for a favor. A favor, yeah. 

The favor being as much as I love them, Blubs and Durland going on honeymoon. Cute and all, the wedding was tedious as all weddings are. But you know, they’re happy. During the reception, the newly married grooms were already jabbering on about the next step in life: kids. Yikes. My car almost swerved across the solid yellow lines. Can’t do that, right? I rolled my eyes. I’m sure someone going about 200 miles would go speeding down on the dead road as I was crossing the line. 

Police officer. Yup, that’s what I am. The big bad rule follower with a baton and a loaded gun. The said loaded gun had been thrown in the backseat amongst the bags.

I chew the inside of my cheek as the first sign of civilization peeks over the canopy of trees: a water tower. Some pathetic attempt at vandalism is sprayed on the tower and surely committed by some bored teenager in this boring town. I squint at the amatuer graffiti drawn in stark red. A mushroom? I shrugged it off and my tired eyes peel back to the road once again. 

Gravity Falls. Blubs and Durland. Chief Thompson. Babysitting, that’s what this is. It isn’t unexpected. I’m young, inexperienced, called wide eyed by the seasoned smirking older officers. 

And look I’m not trying to be, you know, whatever the word is…ah, attention seeking but goddamn! It is not easy being a woman in the police force. Cuz you know, you get pawed off all the jobs no one else wants to do. 

My fingers tense on the steering wheel. Even that graduate, fresh out of police officer school, was on the drug bust. God, what even is his name again? John or Chad or something atypical of the new beloved newbie. I didn’t exactly get the same treatment in the office either. Fuck, was it two or three years ago? Cities of Angels they said. It’ll be swell, it’ll be progressive. So much for that. 

Because what have I been doing for the past two years of my miserable life? Wasting it away at a desk. Which is, of course, part of being a police officer but even then, it’s not everything. It’s a part of it. Where’s the action? Sure as well not being given to me. And yes, I’ve heard the speech a few million times in person and in my head when I’m hurling the shampoo at the wall, but every police officer is valued. In their own and special way, that same patronizing smile gleams at me in the rearview memory. A memory of every face that’s told me I’ve seen too many police movies. 

For fuck’s sake, I’m not a secretary. I went through the school same as everyone else and all I’m  asking for is to do…something. Anything for crying out loud. 

This is something. A nasty, petulant voice whispers unwelcomingly. It’s better than sitting at the desk. Another unwelcoming yet somewhat more cheerful, dreadfully cheerful voice chimes in. The collar of my shirt seems to be sticking to my shirt. Anger brews unhappily in my gut, spreading heat through my skin. 

Then my unfocused eyes catch something. A flash of color in a bleak misty world. I give the break a gentle tap and slow the pace of my car. Welcome to Gravity Falls! The faded welcome sign shimmers under the grey sky. It’s something. It’s something to do. A little hope lifts my heart despite the mood that’s settled within me. Maybe this is my first step to being taken seriously? Maybe this is a test? I blink. It’s a chance. A chance to prove myself to the Chief. Even if it isn’t a test, I’m alone. No, no, not alone. I’m the order within this town to sort whatever disorder there is. No Durland, no Blubs to tell me no. I have power over this town? Is that what this is? Or are they simply expecting nothing too serious to happen?

I should’ve done more research. But maybe I know enough? Minimal crime rate, a few things here and there. It’s just hillbillies and nature lovers and tourists. How bad can it be? And if something were to happen, which is unlikely, it’ll be easy. Easy to handle and easy to bring back to the Chief on the silver platter. Something to spin into something bigger than it is and maybe, just maybe prove myself. 

***

The office is almost too clean for a police station. However, it’s expected. Again, nothing happens in little old Gravity Falls. And of course, who would? The streets are clean, there seems to be an unusual amount of foot traffic (not the city type), and local businesses are bustling. It’s cute, adorable and endearing. As usual though, cute towns with little action usually get boring fast. 

The police station parking lot was a little cramped for my taste but bearable. At least, it doesn’t seem like I have to deal with other employees. Although…there was a lone car parked in the corner of the lot. And no, it didn’t look anything like the old cars buried in the junk or “abandoned” in other words. No, it was one of those badly made cars that sputtered every second, the seats were worn and it was way too claustrophobic. And is it creepy to check out someone’s car? No. Police officer status here. There’s no rules against peering into someone’s car. Except you may be called a creep. 

The only jail cell in the main office space looks rarely used. A few strange triangular symbols were scribbled on the brick wall. I leave it. I’m not a janitor, that’s for damn sure and it’s not technically my police station. I test out the chairs. Comfy enough. Extra spinny too which is a plus. 

The only plus is that unfortunately there’s only a single door in the whole small station which is locked. Not suspicious, but again my curiousness nags at me. I jingle the door a few times but the door doesn’t budge. I try to throw my body weight against it and again, nothing. I give up after a short while. I don't even have any idea how long I'll be here. I’ll figure it all out eventually. And my guess is it’s a file room or cleaning closet. However a young starry eyed child cried out it’s a supernatural mystery lying behind it: a vampire in his coffin or a cauldron simmering with a potion. I shake the thought from my hand and walk off.

I poke around which is only natural. Annoying for the people who own this place, yes. But are they here? No. And unfortunately for me, there’s nothing much to poke around in. It seems the majority of the budget for the police station was spent elsewhere. Which I learn makes sense. The desks are covered in what appears to be origami??? The shelves where there should be law related books are stacked to the brim with an obsessive amount of snow globes. The books which are supposed to be placed on the shelf are stacked in a dusty corner. A clutter of what appears to be a collage of couple selfies are covering the crime board at the center of the office. Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland sharing sparse and sweet kisses. 

 My eye twitches. What do they even do? 

The file room? Even in worse shape. Only about three file drawers are used and all of them are cases of roadkill??? Hell, at the beginning it seems the officers entertained murder mysteries involving the dead animals. Many remained unsolved (foreseeable). One was solved but went nowhere, of course, since how does that even hold up in court? No murders. No thievery. No arson. No nothing!

Either they aren’t doing their jobs or this may just be the most boringest town in the world. Which, of course, I’m stuck with for an unplanned period of time. I almost dialed the Chief’s number to figure out how long I have to stay here. I probably zoned out during that part. About four digits in, I snap my phone close. It’ll probably go to voicemail anyways. 

I’m by no means an expert cleaner but I do try to make this office, somewhat, presentable. And by, presentable I mean, professional. Not some recreational passion project bullshit center. I find a ring of keys in the drawer of the desk in the office. A little pride flag is dangling from the master key for the police station. I smile down at it before attaching it to my belt alongside my tazer and firearm. 

For a moment, my fingers linger over my weapons. Do I even need these? Despite my better efforts, I just tuck my jacket around them. I pin the sparkling sheriff star to my button up and take a seat. I spin for a bit, glancing up at the clock and then I lean back. My back cracks satisfyingly and I let out a little sigh. It had been a long drive. Sixteen hours in total with stops in between to nap in the car. I’ve done it more times than I’d like to.

I begin to drift off with even realizing it. 

***

I wake up to the smell of coffee. It’s soft and tangible, and it smells heavenly. My eyes slowly wink open to the fluorescent lights staring down at me. Greg, makes a good coffee but damn, he must’ve stepped up his game. I let out a little yawn, stretching out my arms and straightening my back. 

I blink, once then twice. Oh, shit, yeah. This isn’t the LA police department.. I’m in Gravity Falls. A groan slips past my lips but curiously enough the coffee smell persists. Was that smell before? A stale coffee smell would make sense but a fresh coffee smell? The smell drags me towards the source. I wander blindly, like a bear to honey through the thin halls. 

And then a sound stops me dead in my tracks. Not a sound but a hum. “Keep smiling through…” I stand lingeringly outside the threshold, listening keenly. That smell. That hum. By the tone of the voice, it must be man. Deep yet slightly lilted. 

An unease sets within me. 

I’m supposed to be alone. 

Continue reading here!

[fumifooms]

Marcille and Chilchuck are that fucking bicorn chapter sandwich where it has sweet syrup mixed into it and Chilchuck starts out like "ewww -mocks it-" but then at the end of the chapter he tries it and he’s surprised that he likes the taste. He just had to try!! He’s been so closed off and passing up on so many friendships because of it out of fear!!! But then he triessss and he opens up and it’s gooood sobbingggg optimism and pessimism are like a surprisingly good sweet and sour sandwich marchil is like a surprisingly complementary sweet and sour sandwich I’m fine…………….

I think the timeline not being mentioned through the story makes it easy to miss that he and his wife haven’t spoken in 4 years since she left and see that’s one itsy bitsy detail Marcille didn’t get while she theorized, it went that far. Imagine your wife leaving you and you start out not reaching out to her because you have a petty cold shoulder resentment, but then you start being actually worried and by then you’re scared to reach out, but she’s still dear to you, and just like that waiting and waiting and waiting four years pass. Without a single word. Get him the clown shoes The universe gave him an idealist persistent coworker obsessed with his life for the express purpose of getting him to consider reaching out to her and open up his heart to hope again it’s great

Quoting a buddy, sometimes it feels like there’s no point in trying to do things because the results may be unfavorable, but you miss out on a lot if you keep to yourself so much. There’s a real social anxiety mindset there too… Shit’s hard and life’s tough and it sucks sometimes but you gotta keep trying, there’s also good you just have to keep an open eye and an open mind. This is why I say sometimes that marchil is the meaning to life to me likeeeee. Ok but it kinda is though…… to me…………..

For as many people think Chilchuck’s demeanor with his family might have been lacking, someone will not let you forget that Chilchuck is a VIRTUOUS HUSBAND!! < Marcille says with the power of bicorn and Daltian Clan on her side. Defend his virtue like he’s a blorbo from your shows marcille go And he is so sure he is an opaque wall he sees her as silly and clumsy, but he’s transparent lmao. She really is so curious about him. And bicorn’s sorta like at her top game on that front— She doesn’t know Chil’s wife so she gets ahead of herself on some things but Chilchuck wise? She gets his pov down so well that it leaves him shaking in fear of her accuracy gdbdg. Ohh the fear of being known, "if we want the rewards of being loved, we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known" is marchil but we been knew that.

Right from the beginning we see Marcille’s more observant with him than she seems, for example telling Senshi that Chil’s "the most mature of the party", but she does idealize him as a young little angel, similarly to Falin even when she knows logically they’re not kids, but still acts like it and oversteps boundaries, and then of course shit happens and the changelings puts the nail in that coffin- but before she can get to the bicorn convo at the top of her Chilchuck accuracy, she also first has to believe that Chilchuck committed adultery. His fall from grace from little angel to dirty old man status. She has to acknowledge he’s very much capable of fucking shit up and not soften it at all, he’s an adult and has to take responsibility for his mistakes, and give him the cold shoulder so Chil sees his life flashing in front of his eyes and goes fuck not again. "Maybe telling people I care about that I did awful things to get them off my back is a terrible strategy actually", and then when she finds out he hasn’t they’re back to being besties, but now Marcille fully sees him as an adult who’s capable of having faults. She can’t idealize him or strip him of depth anymore, him having these two hard to reconcile halves to him is key in teaching her not to judge and categorize people so much anymore.

But then… And this is the key, she saw him as a little guy to always forgive and excuse who can do no true wrong, to glaring at him and being unfriendly when it’s revealed he did something she can’t forgive easily— but when it’s cleared up, she doesn’t lean hard either way anymore, she doesn’t go right back to black and white putting him in a box, there’s balance now. When she gives her wife roleplay speech, she can recognize the faults in him that would have made her feel sad and unloved while still assuring him she’d love him and would want him back, she describes a blatantly unglamorous daily life and presents it as the greatest thing since sliced bread. She goes from idealizing impossible standards like novel princes to romanticizing a mediocre flawed everyday man 😌

And to be clear, romanticizing, not romancing. Focusing on the beauty of it and turning it into a nice aesthetic little thing like how she would a novel archetype, like how Ghibli movies romanticize slow daily life and chores. She doesn’t present it as something it’s not, she just sees the silver lining in all of it, frames it as pleasant and desirable. And isn’t that lowkey so much better like doesn’t that make life so beautiful without dangerously veiling your eyes to reality though…. Sighh marchil is the meaning of life

Giggling kicking my feet 💕 Marcille sees a rain cloud locked door locked heart locked book man and takes it as a challenge, says not on my watch I’ll befriend him, ends up reading him like an open book.

NOBODY DOES IT LIKE THEM!! THERE WILL NEVER BE ANOTHER MARCHIL AGAIN!!! Sobbing into my hands. What if our relationship and our arc examplified the theme of fantasy vs reality in relationships in Dunmeshi what then

You will fuck up and that’s ok… Shit will get tough but it’s worth it… There are still people to love and who will love you even if every relationship ends with loss, wether rejection or death. THE! MEANING! OF! LIFE!

Bad things and good things can coexist and balance each other out the way Chilchuck and Marcille do I need to walk into the ocean. Okay okay okay okay

Dunmeshi prones the importance of balance for both a healthy body and a healthy mind, and optimism vs pessimism is one such case <3

If you were too glass half-full and I was too glass half-empty, maybe together we could make a full glass

[capricores]

happy NYE guys!! wishing you all the best in the new year 🥺💗 are you guys doing any sort of "rituals" or resolutions for the new years?? i'm taking inspiration from some people i saw online, and i'm spending today:

• journalling all the awful shit that happened to me this year, and writing down any limiting beliefs i have/things i want to let go, then i'm going to burn that paper

• writing out resolutions/goals + affirmations/manifestations for the new year in a journal and being so extremely detailed about it so there's no room for interpretation

• making a vision board relating to the life i hope to have in the next year

i think it'll be fun and hopefully impactful in a positive way?! 😭

[deoidesign]

My comic is so pretty...

The hiatus is letting me take a little extra time on these episodes, and I'm definitely putting it to good use!!!

[crrows]

daytrip to a chikubushima

[dykedvonte]

My post about Anya is making like a little ruckus on Twitter and I think it’s crazy how many people like have a problem with it.

Like you don’t have to agree with how I characterize Anya and her actions but it’s more like, why are you focused on only one aspect of her character? Why are you removing nuance from the situation? I don’t see it as giving Curly the benefit of the doubt when it comes to doing better for Anya, but as exploring his character and hers relationship with a the very little authentic facts we get about them. In truth, there’s a lot more I wish Curly did, even if it wasn’t pragmatic but I realize the issue there.

The first psychological horror game in a while that’s real intricate in its storytelling and makes you need to really need to address the morality of intentions and its already getting torn asunder smh 😔