#soul cake thursday

[pratchettquotes]

Well, it didn't matter. He'd had enough. He wasn't going to try to understand anything anymore. He was going home.

Except that wizards can never go home.

This is one of the ancient and deeply meaningful sayings about wizards and it says something about most of them that they have never been able to work out what it means. Wizards aren't allowed to have wives but they are allowed to have parents, and many of them go back to the old home town for Hogswatch Night or Soul Cake Thursday, for a bit of a sing-song and the heart-warming sight of all their boyhood bullies hurriedly avoiding them in the street.

It's rather like the other saying they've never been able to understand, which is that you can't cross the same river twice. Experiments with a long-legged wizard and a small river say you can cross the same river thirty, thirty-five times a minute.

Wizards don't like philosophy very much. As far as they are concerned, one hand clapping makes a noise like "cl."

Terry Pratchett, Sourcery

[just-jordie-things]

[part seven] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 3.3k warnings: !!manga spoilers!! swearing, jjk-verse style fighting series summary: when (y/n) (y/l/n) catches wind that the notorious sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro, has children, she makes it her personal mission to find them. the catch being she couldn't tell a soul about them- the risk of the zen'in clan learning about them was too great. keeping the secret isn't the hard part, it's lying to her friends, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, and of course gojo satoru, that she struggles with. especially when satoru has suddenly become so keen on keeping an eye on her lately.

series masterlist

[part seven] : "Shikigami" ___

The next month, (y/n) thinks, is the best month of her life.  She finally relaxes, even with everything on her plate, she seems to fall into a decent routine to balance it all.  Somehow, everything seems to work out.  And she enjoys her time of peace.

She’d thrown a small party for Tsumiki’s tenth birthday, complete with a homemade two-tower cake that might have been a little slumpy but she and Megumi enjoyed it nonetheless.  (y/n) had spent most of her earnings from her tutoring on a smartphone, and when Tsumiki had shred the glittery pink wrapping paper from it, she’d screamed so loud that Megumi had clamped his hands over his ears.

It was expensive, but it was about time that they had an easier way to communicate with each other.  Ever since, Tsumiki always made sure to keep her updated on what she and Megumi were up to, and she also sent plenty of pictures.  (y/n) particularly enjoyed the ones with Megumi’s hands in front of his face- which were most of them.

She visited them more regularly, and always held herself to that schedule.  Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and the weekends, were reserved for them, and then only.  After a while of this being a normal occurrence, her friends seemed to stop wondering where she went.  They never asked what she was doing, or where she was going.  She did find this odd, but she decided to accept it as a sign of things working out.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” 

Gojo Satoru was sitting on the common room’s sofa beside her.  The movie they’d been watching together long ignored as he propped his elbow on the back of the cushion, resting his head in his hand to better look at her.

(y/n) looked up from her phone, clicking it off as she met his gaze.

The lights were off, and with only the dim light of the television screen, Satoru had his sunglasses hooked into the collar of his shirt.  It wasn’t often that he left them off.  (y/n) felt a sense of honor, that he was comfortable enough to sit before her, exposed.

She had a feeling that if she reached out to touch him, she’d be able to.

“I guess nothing” She replied, the message she’d just received from Tsumiki still on her mind. 

It wasn’t the usual picture of Megumi.  In this one, there were two small puppies on either side of him.  One white, and one black, with shikigami symbols on either of their heads.

[(y/n)]: i’m so proud! i can’t wait to come and see in person tomorrow.  Be safe <3

Her response hadn’t been a lie, she was incredibly proud that Megumi was starting to get a grasp on his cursed energy.  Summoning shikigami wasn’t an easy feat, and (y/n) had never really tried her own hand at it.  So a part of her felt insecure in her ability to help young Megumi hone this skill.

But more than anything, she was overwhelmed at the realization that he was growing up, growing into his cursed energy.  Soon she’d have to figure out a way to teach him how to use it.  She’d have to teach him properly about curses, and about jujutsu sorcerers.

She gnawed on her lip.

“Really?” Satoru asked, quietly.  “Cause it looks like somethin’s bothering you” 

(y/n) dropped her gaze to her lap, at the black screen of her phone.

“No, I’m alright,” She feigned a smile.  “Hey, you know much about shikigami?” 

Satoru’s brows furrow, and there’s a slight smirk on his lips.  What in the world did she need shikigami for?

“You want a pet, sweetheart?” He jokes.  “You could just ask, I’ll get you something” 

“No, I don’t want a pet” (y/n) laughs at his instant desire to buy her something.

“You sure?” Satoru checks.  “Kitten? Turtle? Parrot?” 

“No,” (y/n) repeats between her laughter.  “When would I have the time to take care of a pet? I’m too busy taking care of you” 

He gives her a toothy grin.

“Well then what’s with the shikigami?” He asked.  “Not like you need ‘em” 

“So you don’t know anything,” (y/n) sighs, defeated.  “That’s fine, I’ll just ask Suguru or something-” 

“No no no, no need, I’m your mentor, aren’t I?” He cuts her off, making her chuckle.  Of course he’d jump at the opportunity to help if it meant she didn’t go to someone else.

“I wouldn’t say mentor-” 

“Summoning shikigami is all about your own cursed energy,” He speaks over her.  “Think of it like play-doh!” He adds, scooting closer to her on the cushion as his hands move in front of him, making a ball shape.  “It’s all about having an image in mind, and using your cursed energy to make that image reality!” 

(y/n) nods, twirling her phone around in her hand as she thinks about it.

Megumi didn’t just summon one dog.  There were two.

“Why the sudden interest?” Satoru asks.

(y/n) shakes her head.

“Got a paper on it” She mumbles out the lie, the gears in her mind occupying all of her thoughts.

If Megumi were able to summon even more… 

She doesn’t want to think about it.

Then the Zen’in Clan might start looking for him.

“Boring paper,” Satoru scoffs, leaning back on the couch.  “You should write about something cooler.  Like me,” 

(y/n) chuckles, he’d effectively distracted her from her troubled thoughts.

“What?” He asks, offended.  “I’m interesting! I’m the most interesting thing that’s happened to this dying community in decades! Maybe even centuries, (y/n/n)”

(y/n) rolls her eyes at him affectionately.  He always had a way of condemning the jujutsu society, even though it was the very society that practically crowned him.

“Sure you are” She deadpans.

He gapes at her.

“You don’t think I’m interesting?” He asks, holding a hand over his chest in mock offense.

“Satoru-” 

“I can’t believe this!” He cries out, throwing his head back.

“Satoru-” 

“You’ve wounded me, (y/n)!” He gets louder each time she tries to make him shut up.  “I can’t believe I trusted you- you’ve broken my heart!” 

“Satoru!” (y/n) grabs him by his shoulders, and just as she suspected earlier, he’d let her touch him.  

He’s cackling, laughing at his own jokes.  It’s almost annoying, but he’s grinning ear to ear as he brings his head back up, meeting her gaze, and she can’t find it in herself to be irritated with him.

For once, his stupid mouth is shut.  He’s just staring at her, intently, like he was waiting for something.  (y/n) raised a brow, in silent question, but he still didn’t say anything.

“What?” She finally asked, eyes flickering between his.  

Despite herself, she gets lost in the deep oceans of his irises.  She knows that he knows they’re beautiful, but she wonders if he knows just how trapped in them she could get.

They were his greatest weapon, in more ways than one.

He still doesn’t answer, but his grin softens, and her heart flips over in her chest.

Was Gojo Satoru really reducing her to this? 

She suddenly notices how close she is, with her hands frozen on his shoulders, and her face just inches away from his.  If someone were to walk into the room right now, it would surely seem like a compromising position.

Was she losing her mind, or did he just look at her lips? 

Sure, she’d had a few more than platonic thoughts about him in the past, and surely he’d known this too.  Gojo Satoru lived to be a charmer, a flirt, a tease- he collected phone numbers (and probably other small trophies) left and right.  

(y/n) had seen it first hand, and it used to frustrate her to no end that he would distract himself from an assignment just to throw out a cheap pickup line and a wink.  It was more frustrating that it worked.  But now she wonders if she was annoyed by this behavior for other reasons.

All at once, Satoru took her wrists, dropping her hands from his shoulders, and moving back to his spot on the couch to put distance between them.

It wasn’t right, he told himself, looking back at the television and pretending to suddenly be interested in the movie he’d barely watched.  She was seeing someone.

Maybe he hadn’t proved it yet, she hadn’t given him any tangible evidence that it was a boyfriend she was visiting in Tokyo, but the odds of it being anything else were growing thin  For the last month he’d been giving her the space to do as she pleased, and she had chosen to use that space to go into town more frequently, and on a regular schedule now, too.  This led Satoru, and Shoko and Suguru as well, to believe it had to be a guy she was visiting.

There was a knot between (y/n’s) eyebrows, as she regarded Satoru’s sudden distance.  She’s not sure why he’d recoiled away from her, as if she’d somehow done something venomous.  She tried racking her brain to figure out what it could’ve been to make him do such a thing, but she didn’t dare ask why.

Instead, she gave him his space.  They sat in complete silence until the movie ended, and as soon as it did, she stood and excused herself to her room.  Satoru didn’t protest, he didn’t say anything.  Just sat on the sofa while she walked away.

When she was gone, he dropped his head back against the cushion, letting out a groan of frustration.  For some reason, his mind wandered to the little spat he’d had with Nanami, the day he’d punched a wall.

She doesn’t belong to anyone, the blonde man’s voice was dry as he’d spoken, but somehow it made his words all the more harsh.

The white haired sorcerer dragged a hand over his face, shutting his eyes and wishing he was able to distract himself from his own ridiculous angst.

She doesn’t belong to anyone.

Satoru wasn’t sure that was so true. ___

“It was just weird,” (y/n) shook her head, happily snatching the cigarette from Shoko’s hand as soon as she’d slid it from it’s carton.  “I’ve never seen him be so quiet for so long.  Honestly, I didn’t know he was capable of it” 

The brunette chuckled, producing a lighter from the pocket of her white coat, and leaning over to light the cigarette that hung between (y/n’s) lips.

“You must have stunned him to silence” She mused.

“I don’t know,” (y/n) shrugged, taking a drag once the cig was lit.  “I think he was just… upset” 

Shoko hums.

It wasn’t smart to be smoking in the dorms, and surely if someone smelled the distinct scent of smoke, (y/n) was going to be in grave trouble for it.  But it was a little chilly outside, and the pair didn’t feel like shivering in their usual spot on the roof.

(y/n) leans back on her bed, kicking her feet towards her pillow, and hanging her head off the edge of the mattress.  Shoko sat opposite of her, with her back to the headboard, and her legs crossed at her ankles.

“You two have been spending more time together than usual,” The brunette comments, “Somethin’ I should know?”

(y/n) lets out a short chuckle, blindly passing the cig back.  Shoko leans forward to pluck it from her fingers.

“Absolutely not” 

“Hm,” Shoko hums around the cigarette between her lips.  “Doth protest too much,” She says with a small giggle.  “You used to despise one on one time with Satoru.  Remember when we first met?” 

(y/n) smiles fondly at the memory.  A few more trickled into her mind.  Their first year together at Jujutsu Tech had been a fun ride.  Messy, but fun.

“Of course” 

It’s quiet for a few beats, both girls lost in their own memories.  (y/n’s) not sure if she thought so back then, but life was so, so much easier.  It seems now she carries the weight of the world, of her choices, consequences, regrets, a heavy chain that binds her of every mistake she’s chosen, every wrong path she’d walked.

Back then, all she had to worry about was exorcizing curses, getting stronger, getting her homework done on time.  Her eyes fall shut, and she lets out a sigh as she remembers the old days that were a mere few years ago.

“Shoko,”

Her voice is barely above a whisper.  Her friend hums in response, and hands the cigarette back, feeling like (y/n) needed it more in that moment.

“You asked me once what I think I would do if I wasn’t a jujutsu sorcerer” 

Shoko hums once more.

“You’ve finally thought about it?”

She wonders if (y/n) was finally about to admit to her rendezvous with her secret lover.  

“Yeah,” (y/n) replies.  “I think I’d like to be a mother” 

Shoko doesn’t reply right away, a bit stunned.  That wasn’t anything like she was expecting, and as she wrapped her mind around the thoughtful choice, she felt a pit in her stomach begin to grow.

“You could still be a mother” She informs.

(y/n) tilts her head up, peering at her friend from the end of the bed.  There’s a smile on her face, but Shoko can see as plain as day that it was empty.

“I could never bring children into this world” She says.  Her voice is solemn, final.  As if the notion would be the cruelest thing she’s ever heard.

“Too selfish?” Shoko muses.

(y/n) drops her head again.  Her hair hangs low, almost touching the ground.

“Something like that” (y/n) agrees in a mumble.

“What makes you think of that now?” Shoko asks, flicking the cigarette over the ashtray on (y/n’s) bedside table.

She’d had it for some time, a little ceramic dish with a pretty, flowery design.  It was almost perfectly clean.

“I don’t know” She murmurs back.

Her eyes shut as she raises her arms over her head, letting them hang down towards the ground until her knuckles rest there.  She knows fully well why she thinks of it.

“Liar,” Shoko purrs.  “We’ve been friends a long time.  Not once have you learned how to lie to me” 

(y/n) chuckles, dragging her fingers over the rough carpet on her floor.  There, she traces designs mindlessly.

“Not once have you been bothered when I lie to you” She whispers back.

Shoko lazily shrugs a shoulder, smiling to herself.

“I’m not one to need to know everyone’s business,” She says honestly.  “I like a little mystery.  Keeps things interesting” 

“Guess you’re right” (y/n) mumbles.  Her fingertip drags in a straight line, watching the short fibers of her carpet be spread apart.

“And I know if something was important, you’d tell me,” Shoko adds.  She waits for a response, patiently.  Asking (y/n) to open up was a difficult task, but if anyone was able to make her crack, it was Shoko.

(y/n’s) finger halts on the ground, and she stares at the spot for a moment.

“Right?” Shoko’s voice is smaller than before, almost uncertain.

(y/n) lays her palm flat against the ground, leaving it there for a second before sliding it over the line in the carpet she’d made.  With her palm, the fibers stand straight together again, erasing any evidence that she’d separated them. “Of course,” She says, as confidently as she can.  “You know I would” 

Shoko nods, chuckling awkwardly to herself.

“I know,” She replies.  “Just making sure, I guess” 

You’re getting better at lying, Shoko thinks, looking at her friend who couldn’t even look her in the eye.  But still not good enough for me to believe you.

“Shoko,” (y/n) whispers after a beat of silence.  “What do you know about the Zen’in Clan?” 

Finally, she lifts her head, propping her elbows on the bed to keep her body angled up just enough to properly look at her friend.  Shoko looks utterly confused, her brows furrowed and her lips pressed into a line.

“Not much…” She trails off, her head tilting to the side as she regard (y/n) with clear and utter concern.  “Why?” 

(y/n) shakes her head, turning to stare at a spot on the wall so she wouldn’t have to lie to her face again.

“Just wondering”

“(y/n)...” Shoko leans forward a bit, just off the headboard, enough to bring her friend’s gaze back to hers.  “What business do you have with the Zen’in Clan?” 

(y/n) gulps as Shoko’s eyes prod into hers worriedly.

Only a child that’s rightfully theirs, she thinks.

“I thought it was more interesting to not know everything” (y/n) throws her words back at her, but there’s no tease in her tone.  She’s quiet, hesitant.

The reversed cursed technique master chews on her lip, troubled.

Was she seeing someone from the Zen’in Clan? She wondered.  Is that what all this was about? It would certainly explain the sneaking around, the sudden need for her to keep things private.  If she was hooking up with a Zen’in, it was definitely wise of her to not have told Satoru.

But a question still remained in Shoko’s head.

Why?

“They’re a force to be reckoned with, (y/n),” Shoko cautions.  “If you do have business with them…” 

“Cut it off, right?” (y/n) lets out a bitter huff of a laugh.  She drops her head to stare at her lap.  She’d known that since day one.

“I was going to say, tread carefully,” Shoko says, and (y/n’s) eyes meet hers once more, surprised.  She’d thought for certain that her friend would try to pry, to talk her out of what she was doing.  “I don’t want you to get hurt” 

“I won’t”

“When it comes to the Zen’ins, you probably will,” Shoko says, a bittersweet smile tugging on her lips.  “They’re bad news, (y/n)” 

“Trust me,” (y/n) sighs.  “I know” 

The subject was dropped after that, both girls curling up in (y/n’s) small bed as the night grew near.  Shoko smoked one last cigarette, scrolling mindlessly through her phone.  (y/n) laid with her back to her, staring at her wall as she processed what the next step for her had to be.

She’d known for a while that as he got older, it would be harder to hide him from the Zen’in Clan.  The growth of his cursed energy was bound to happen.  She’d just never thought it would happen so soon.  And now she was backed into a rock and a hard place.  Training him to properly hone his ability, while also concealing it, was going to be quite the chore.  She wasn’t sure if she was the right sorcerer for the job, if she was strong enough to protect him alone.

Her hands gripped the edge of her blanket, pulled close to her chin.

Even if she wasn’t strong enough, she’d have to be. ___

Gojo Satoru glared at his reflection in the mirror, or more specifically, glared at the bags under his eyes.  It wasn’t unlike him to have a bad night’s sleep, most nights he was lucky to get a couple hours, but the dark circles were not a welcome addition to his otherwise perfect face.

The knock on his door disturbed his thoughts, but it was welcomed.  He needed a break from focusing on the only physical insecurity he’d had in a while.

When he swung the door open, Shoko stood there, and instantly invited herself in.  She spoke before he could say anything, or react to her sudden visit at all.

The brunette plopped herself down in his desk chair, crossing her arms and staring at him with a serious look in her eye that Satoru didn’t often see.

“It’s time to talk about (y/n)”  ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[talesofesther]

birthday girl

Wednesday Addams x Reader

This story belongs to the Sweet Calamity universe

Summary: Wednesday tries to make something special for your birthday.

A/N: A sweet little thing for my favorite universe. And also as a birthday gift for my dear friend @eviekensington. <3

Masterlist 

It was a day like any other; the sun was peeking through the clouds, your colleagues had sour faces in the morning, your girlfriend's hand was warm in yours.

Just a normal Thursday.

Or at least you hoped it would be.

You were walking out of your last class with Wednesday, talking with her about the upcoming test. Well, you were talking, she was listening and humming along.

The day went by as normal, the sun just a few hours short of setting, and no one had acknowledged it was your birthday yet.

Just how you liked it.

Honestly, it's not that you don't like when people remember your birthday, you do — it shows they care. Yet the sometimes overwhelming attention that comes with it is not exactly something you love.

One person wishes you a happy birthday and suddenly there are people you don't even know pulling you into a hug to do the same. It feels like the spotlight is on you for the whole day. That, you don't like.

To avoid things like that, you preferred to keep it a secret. Though this year there's something different; you had your soulmate with you. A soulmate who's very good at uncovering secrets.

"I happened to forget my hunting knife at the ballroom," Wednesday suddenly interrupted your rambling, "would you accompany me to get it?"

"Uh-" you didn't know what she was doing with a hunting knife at the school's ballroom in the first place, but there was no reason for saying no to spending more time alone with her, "yeah, of course."

Wednesday gave you a barely there smile and squeezed your hand before pulling you along.

Maybe you should have expected it, what with the way she was being all secretive today, dodging your attempts at making plans for later and sending texts to someone whilst in class — you barely saw Wednesday touch her cellphone on a normal day; that should've been reason enough for you to guess something was off.

You pushed open the ballroom doors and were immediately greeted with chantings of happy birthday. Enid, Ajax, Bianca, Yoko, Divina, Xavier, Eugene, and many others of your friends occupied a small portion of the big ballroom; there was a table with a cake and drinks on top of it and a haphazard cut-out birthday sign taped to the wall along with a few balloons.

Placing a hand over your racing heart, you looked at Wednesday beside you, she had a glint of pride in her eyes.

"You weren't assuming I was unaware, right?" She smirked, then motioned for you to walk further into the ballroom, "you can thank Enid for the party."

You didn't have much time to answer before Enid was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug; "happy birthday, Y/n." She pulled back, half-heartedly glaring at you, "I can't believe you weren't going to tell me it's your birthday."

"Well, I-" you started with a timid chuckle.

"No matter," the werewolf kept going, a bright smile on her lips that you couldn't help but copy, it did feel nice to have people who cared. "Wednesday found out just in time."

Enid was also the first to give you a present after all of your friends hugged you; it was a large pink box that had a knitted sweater inside it, the fabric unbelievably soft, in shades of purple and lilac — it was bound to become your favorite.

For what felt like hours you ate, drank, received gifts, and celebrated with your friends. It was nice — until the attention became overwhelming, until you were craving some fresh air.

Luckily, you had someone who apparently could read you like an open book.

You were putting away your empty cup when you felt nimble fingers touching your elbow. Her presence so familiar to you that you didn't even need to turn to see who it was — your soul knew the shape of hers already — but you did anyway, pursing your lips in a smile.

"Are you not enjoying your festivities, mi flor?" Wednesday spoke with a softness reserved for you only.

"I am, really I am," you reassured a little too urgently, biting your lip when all you got from her in response was a raised eyebrow telling you to be honest. "It's just- I don't like much attention on me as is, and here, I feel like all eyes are on me."

Wednesday hummed, her brows scrunched in thought, "Enid said to me that's what you'd like when I told her I wanted to do something for today. I apologize."

You could swoon. You wanted to kiss away the little pout on Wednesday's lips — so you did, you cupped her face with one hand and gave a peck to her lips; "don't apologize, I loved it. Just the fact that you thought of doing something already means everything to me."

The dimmed lights of the ballroom almost hid the blush on her pale cheeks. Almost. Her fingers trailed down your arm, creating goosebumps on your skin until her hand found yours, "come with me."

"What about them?" You glanced at your friends. They were laughing with each other and stuffing themselves with cake.

"They won't mind."

With her hand in yours, Wednesday took you all the way to the lake just outside the school walls, its water was glistening with the fading sunlight and the few leaves on the trees were rustling with the cold wind. It was gorgeous, straight out of a painting.

She sat down with you on the wooden deck, both your feet just short of touching the water.

"This better?" Wednesday asked, her eyes expectant on you.

"Yeah," you intertwined your fingers with hers and brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles, "it's the best."

Wednesday knew you loved all things nature, she reprimanded herself for this not being her first option. Though you genuinely looked happy, with a soft smile permanent on your lips and the golden sunset reflecting in your eyes.

You watched in blissful silence as the sun slowly disappeared behind the mountains, your thumb gently tracing the skin on your girlfriend's hand.

"Thank you, this really is the best birthday," you said quietly so as to not disturb the atmosphere around you.

You felt Wednesday's eyes on you, "because you're here," you told her. Despite being true, your own words made you smirk as you waited for the reaction you knew they'd cause.

"That's nauseating," Wednesday grumbled, tugging at your hand so it would rest on her lap.

"You love it," you bumped her shoulder with yours, stretching your feet to kick the water underneath you.

Wednesday held back a smile. She did love it.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany

[angelmush]

having horrific insomnia so here is what im cookin this week:

- tonight for dinner i remade an easy meal from a few weeks ago w smokey caramelized salmon, rice, and a limey mango avocado salsa

- i also made a ball of pasta dough that is chilling in the fridge for tomorrow’s dinner which will be little squiggly noodles with hot italian sausage and clams and a sort of brothy lemon wine sauce

- wednesday is my five year anniversary w my angel gf and we have a picnic planned! i am making an entire menu to bring to the park. i feel deeply in my heart that picnics are many many courses, meant to be enjoyed one at a time over a lazy afternoon. so we will start with focaccia smeared w whipped butter i made, slices of radish, + salty anchovy filets. then a bright arugula salad with crispy prosciuttto and sweet tuscan cantaloupe and mozzarella. after that, focaccia sandwiches with pan seared chicken thighs, burratta, peaches, homemade spinach basil pesto, and arugula. and finally, a cornmeal olive oil cake w a wild blueberry + lavender sauce. putting all my heart n soul into this meal. :-)

- for thursday i will make some buttermilk fried chicken sammies and french fries ! i will also meal prep a pesto asparagus snap pea pasta salad w the rest of the pesto and other green things i have laying around that can withstand sitting in the fridge for a day.

- friday my gf is going to make a puff pastry pizza w some pie dough i made and froze, mushrooms, a gorgonzola cream sauce we got, and the leftover prosciutto

- saturday i work late so will likely grab something at work

sunday - my pre-planned pesto pasta salad bc i’m a meal prepper now

[palepinkgoat]

weekly tag game Wednesday Thursday

I'm trying to return to Tumblr after feeling like garbage (sick and depressed) so here I go. Thank you for the tags @celestialmickey @mybrainismelted @francesrose3 @heymrspatel and @energievie!

name: karen

do you drink coffee? if so, what’s your coffee order? I love coffee! I drink plain mr coffee-esque drip coffee with just a splash of half and half in the morning. Midday I'm happy to have an iced oat milk latte!

what’s the best thing you ate today? I'm about to eat some lemon cake! But I also ate some spinach quiche today and that was pretty lovely.

tell us about your first pet (or if you haven’t had a pet yet, what’s your dream pet?) I don't really remember most of it, but we had a black cat named Woody when I was very young. He died when I was around 3 and him dying is one of my earliest memories.

if your life was a book, what would you call the current chapter? Sisyphus

what’s something you did recently that you’re proud of? I told my mom how I really felt about something she did. You can be an adult and still clash with your parents to the point where you are proud of yourself and don't just say ok and scurry away.

what was your first dream job growing up? I always wanted to write. Write poems. Write books. It's all I've ever wanted to be. And I always wanted to be a mom.

what’s the name of the latest playlist you made? Numbers. Songs with numbers in the song. For example: The Magic Number - (De La Soul my beloved) Goldfrapp's Number 1 (obsessed) , Edge of Seventeen (Stevie forever), Four Letter Word by Gossip (that voice!), etc. It's one of many themed playlists I work on with my old pal Nick. No tagging because my brain is exhausted. I'm sorry.

[jess-the-reckless]

So happy to see a renewal announcement for S3 of Good Omens. Have some useless lesbians to celebrate.

It was hard not to like Olga. Like Crowley, she had spent too long in the childcare trenches, at the mercy of an unpleasant employer. Over morning coffee the two ex-nannies would swap war stories, while Olga peered through the Situations Vacant pages.

“I never could do this at the manor,” she said. “She always seemed to know if I was trying to find another job. I would hear her coming – squish, squish, squish.”

“She squishes?” said Crowley.

“ Да. She covers her feet in Vaseline every night, then she pulls sandwich bags over her feet to keep the Vaseline from getting everywhere, then she pulls sock over the whole thing and walks about like that. It goes squish squish squish between her toes when she walks.”

“Interesting,” said Crowley. “Why?”

“Dry feet.”

“Huh.” Crowley made a mental note of it, both impressed and annoyed that she’d never thought of the same thing sooner. Her toes had an unholy tendency to slough even harder in the summer. In winter they simply dessicated. “Did she often…you know…shed her skin?”

Olga shrugged. “I don’t know. But she definitely has dandruff. I’m surprised she doesn’t have chemical burns from all the bleach.”

Something went crash in the kitchen, followed by a muted swear from Aziraphale. Crowley, now a veteran of such crashes, identified it as the sound an electric hand-whisk made when it slid off the side of the bowl and splattered cake batter all over the surface, the floor, and the nearest highly-strung celestial messenger. She usually left Aziraphale to it, not knowing enough about baking to be able to help, but this time Aziraphale came out of the kitchen. She wore a fraught expression, and a large splodge of lumpy buttercream on her left tit.

“Darling,” she said. “Do we have any cigarettes around the place? Or ketamine?”

“Ketamine? No. And don’t start smoking again. What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale wrung her hands. “My buttercream has curdled,” she said. “It was supposed to look like plaster-of-paris, but it’s…it’s woodchip.”

Olga was already up out of her chair. “Let me see. It sounds like your butter is too cold.”

Crowley sat back and finished her coffee. She had been hesitant about having company at first, but it was nice to have someone around who knew how to deal with Aziraphale when she was having a baking meltdown. Crowley herself could take or leave cake, but between The Great British Bake-Off and whatever was going on in her kitchen she had come to the conclusion that cake was a hobby for drama queens. Funny, really, because what could be more decorative and serene than a wedding cake, with its sugar flowers and delicate swirls of icing? At first glance you would never have looked at such a thing and thought that its production had involved more wailing and gnashing of teeth than went on in any given circle of Hell on your average Thursday.

Accomplished as she was in the ways of causing soul-tarnishing levels of misery, Crowley couldn’t feel as though she’d missed a trick somewhere when she’d failed to open a patisserie.

“…you bring the temperature up slowly,” Olga was saying, in the kitchen. “See? Stand the bowl in hot water…”

The electric whisk whirred loudly, but this time when it shut off the noises from the angel were much more encouraging – “Oh my word…Olga, you’re a genius. Thank you so much.”

Presently Aziraphale emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands. She had that purposeful look that made Crowley wonder – and quietly dread – what might be coming next.

“I need you,” she said.

“Who? Me?” said Crowley, looking around the otherwise empty room. “Sorry. I’m not here.”

“You’re being silly. You’re very much here, and I need a favour.”

Crowley took a deep breath. “Come on then. Let’s hear it.”

“I need you to talk to Roger Dunmore—”

“—nyyyyaaargh—”

“—no. Stop screaming. Honestly, Crowley, why does everything have to be so dramatic all the time with you? I need you to ask Roger if he can squeeze one more contestant into the baking competition. I know the deadline for entry has expired, but these are special circumstances.”

“So tell him that,” said Crowley. “Why me? Why can’t you do it?”

“Because buttercream is tricky,” said Aziraphale. “And he likes you.”

Crowley let out a loud snort of laughter. “He hates me. Are you mad?”

“There’s a fine line between love and hate, dear. And I thought you might be able to provide some leverage.” Aziraphale fished in the front pocket of her beige tartan apron, and tossed what she found there to Crowley. “Catch.”

It was the extendable tape measure, the one that Roger had dropped on the lawn when Aziraphale had had her involuntary Old Testament moment. Interested at last, Crowley pulled it from its metal housing and peered at the reverse side. Roger being Roger, he had taken an indelible pen and written his name on the tape. Before retirement he’d been a civil servant, and Crowley could easily picture him as the kind of office worker who was monstrously fussy about his stationary. They had those in Hell, too, like that one desk jockey from the upper circles. Crowley couldn’t remember her name offhand, but she’d gone disproportionately bonkers with a hammer when one of Crowley’s YTS kids had borrowed her stapler without asking.

“All right,” said Crowley, sensing an opportunity for torture. “Can’t hurt, I suppose.”

The Dunmores lived just down the road from the tiny local garage. On her way Crowley was surprised to see the Jag – an E-type-shaped lump under a Jaguar branded car cover – parked outside the garage. Thankfully there was no sign of Louise, so she continued on her way.

Roger Dunmore answered the door. “You,” he said, suspicious as a supervillain meeting his nemesis. “What do you want?”

“Hello Roger,” said Crowley. “I’ve come to ask you a favour.”

He blinked at her for a solid minute. His eyes were small and brown. “Are you mad?” he said. “I know what you did.”

“Oh? And what did I do?”

Roger Dunmore pulled the door half-closed behind him, and lowered his voice. “You threw a grenade at me,” he said.

“I did what?” said Crowley, and then realised this was going to be easier than she’d thought. “Oh. That. Yeah. No, that was lightning.”

 “On a calm night? With no thunderstorms?”

“Yep,” said Crowley. “We’ve had some funny weather lately, haven’t we? That rain the other day – came out of nowhere. I’d get your marrows under cover in case of hail, actually. You never know when it can strike, and it can pulverize a courgette like that.”

She snapped her fingers to emphasise her point, but Roger was unmoved. He narrowed his eyes and lips in the manner of someone who had learned to do so from the kind of thriller novels that infested airport bookshops. “I was in the Territorials,” he said. “I know a grenade when one explodes behind me.”

Crowley nodded in fake sympathy. “Fair enough,” she said. “Although I’d love to know where middle-aged lesbians like me are supposed to procure small armaments. The only bombs I’ve bought recently are those fizzy bath ones from The Body Shop.”

Roger exhaled hard. “What do you want, Ms Ash?” he said.

Oh dear. It was clearly time to break out the charm offensive, and as a long-time agent of Hell Crowley tended to put the offensive in charm offensive. This was Aziraphale’s territory, not hers. She didn’t have any of the weapons at Aziraphale’s disposal. She didn’t have twinkly blue eyes, a dimpled smile, and a cleavage that made men of a certain age want to get wedged between her breasts as thoroughly as that one Utah hiker who had ended up so trapped between two large boulders that he’d had to whittle off his own arm. No hiker was ever going to end up fighting for their life between Crowley’s modest B-cups. Her cleavage was an unchallenging country stroll. You wouldn’t have had to break out the heavy duty boots and Kendal Mint Cake for that one. Shit, you could probably do it in flip-flops.

Still baffled as to why Aziraphale wanted her to do this in the first place, Crowley attempted to look sweet and winning. She puffed out whatever scant chestage she had at her disposal, and smiled a sadly dimple-free smile. “I would like,” she said. “For you to make room for one more contestant in the baking competition.”

This time Roger didn’t blink. “The deadline has passed,” he said.

“I know,” said Crowley. “That’s why I’m asking you. Nicely.” She batted her eyelashes, for all the good it was going to do her behind dark glasses. “Please?”

“Piss off,” said Roger, and started to close the door.

Crowley stuck her foot in it, on much more familiar territory now. “You know, I was hoping you’d say something like that,” she said, reaching for the tape-measure in her pocket.

“Why?”

“Because it means I don’t have to ask nicely anymore,” she said, waving the tape-measure under his nose. He reached for it, and she snatched it back. “I’m sure your wife would be fascinated to learn how this ended up in a strange woman’s garden.”

Roger’s face went studiously blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He did. “It has your name on, idiot,” said Crowley. “And you’ve already more or less admitted to being in my allegedly grenade-strewn garden. Give it up, and do as I say, all right? It’s easier, otherwise I’m going to have to do some stuff you really won’t like.” Her glasses had slid down her nose, and she was fine with that. “With snakes.”

Roger’s left eye twitched. “What do you know about the snakes?” he said, in a terrible, post-traumatic undertone.

“Lotsss,” said Crowley, and smiled. Not nicely. “Do the thing, Roger.”

“Wait,” he said, as she was almost out of the front gate. “Can I have my tape-measure back?”

Crowley laughed. “Nope. You can have it back when you’ve done what I want. Maybe.”

He gawped at her for a moment. “Are you…are you blackmailing me?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” said Crowley. “Have a nice day.”

She wandered off with a swagger in her walk, rounded the corner, and stopped mid-sashay at the sight of the Jag.

The kid from the garage was stripping off the cover. Denuded now, the Jag was yellow. Bright, stupid, buttercup yellow. For a moment Crowley hoped against hope that it wasn’t the same car, but it was. Same number plate, different paint job.

Crowley didn’t stop to ask. She didn’t have to. She knew exactly who was responsible for this atrocity.

Aziraphale was still in the kitchen, attempting to trim a carefully stacked layer cake. “Put it back,” said Crowley.

“Put what back?” said Aziraphale, not looking up from her knife.

“The car. Louise’s Jag. It’s in the garage, and it’s fucking yellow. I know this was you.”

 Aziraphale stifled the tiniest of smiles. “What if it was?”

“It looks like a banana.”

“Mm.”

“Aziraphale…”

“I like it,” said Aziraphale, putting down the knife and spinning the cake on its turntable. “It’s pretty.”

“It’s sacrilege is what it is,” said Crowley. “That is a cherry-red car. She was built to be a sexy little red number. Destined for it, in fact, and you’ve made her look ridiculous. Change it back.”

Aziraphale appeared to consider this. “No,” she said.

[altocat]

question: so if the update drops at 7 pm pdt, how quickly realistically will it take for the brave souls who actually soldier their way through the gacha game to play through it, record, post it on YT, etc? (that is: can i eat my cake for breakfast thursday morning est lmao)

Faz Faz works very quickly when it comes to First Soldier. I'd expect Chapter Seven to be up on yt within 4-6 hours after the update. Chapter eight probably shortly after that.

There are also active streams on YT and twitch during chapter updates so that might be helpful as well. I'd expect Chapter 7 to be up at least around 7am est on Thursday. And parts of chapter 8 as well.

[weepingfoxfury]

The man on the radio tells us it's Thursday (all day) and that some kind soul has sent him a couple of bottles of wine. Pavarotti sings to Lady Diana before the Dream Academy hand out lemonade and sing of Life in a Northern Town. The traffic lady gives out about the usual congested spots and bad behaviour before disappearing with her cuppa to Studio B to prepare for tomorrow morning's mayhem.

Today's groaner: did you hear about the old lady who was carried through the cake section of the supermarket by a strange Scandinavian? ... she went through the desserts on a Norse with no name ;-D badoom tish ... here all week!!

The ivy is exploding all over everything and the birds are loving it. Usually it's the moss, but there's little rain and it's taking a back seat for now. The oldest dog is beside herself watching winged beasties soaring overhead before they swoop down and scootle past her at a rate of knots ... and then have the temerity to disappear into the ivy mass on the big shed roof. Where did they go? Are they coming back? Head up, twizzling round, she's deliriously happy.

The shiny metropolis calls. The mice have finally scuppered my cooker. Sorry little critters but your entry holes will be blocked. Killing the toaster was one thing ... now your habits are getting expensive. At least the cafetiere is in one piece and my supply of coffee is assured ...

[evita-shelby]

Happy Thoughts Thursday!!

Is there a quote that you feel embodies your writing? Not one you wrote, but one from someone else.

For instance for @devil-in-the-details-ay, I have found this quote by Anais Nin fits so perfectly with them... "When I saw you I thought, here is a man I could love. And I was no longer afraid of feelings."

So for my writing of Eva fits this quote from Anna Karenina where Kitty describes Anna at her party wearing a black ballgown or when they first meet, i can't remember.

Yes, there is something uncanny, demonic, and fascinating in her.

It is so Eva that it comes to mind as i read back my own work or that of others like @zablife 's Last Supper and @look-at-the-soul toloache cake.

Like yes, Eva is endlessly fascinating to write because i love exploring every facet of her because behind her endlessly charming and confident exterior she is painfully human with fears and trauma, and flaws.

[angelcloves]

okiedokie i got some really awesome requests this week im sorry to everyone i had to turn down but theres seventeen requests in my inbox and i only have time to give five of them a full fic

monday 4/17 - i cant even fully explain this one its from my ballet au that i rarely talk about. five year old bio baby hunter plays patty cake with his mama camilla after she breaks a bunch of ribs

tuesday 4/18 - camila is a substitute beastkeeping teacher at hexside

wednesday 4/19 - hunter has the hiccups and willow gives him a little kissie to snap him out of it

thursday 4/20 - false eyes finale basilisk reunion

friday 4/21 - caleb plays papa titan at chess and thinks hes bargaining with the devil for his soul

[itstimeforstarwars]

Wip Wednesday Thursday, a scene that probably won't make it into Galidraan:

"Can someone please explain what the fuck just happened?" Derry asked.

"Can it wait until Myles and Elmga get back?" Ben asked tiredly. "If I'm gonna get poked at I'd rather it just happen once."

Derry already had his scanners out. "Nope," he said. "If either of you have a chance of collapsing from jetii sickness, or getting your soul eaten or something before they get here, I need to know. Kyrgun help me out here."

Kyrgun made his way into the medbay, closing the door behind him.

"I'm going to collapse from jetii sickness right now," Ben grumbled, and Kyrgun wasn’t entirely sure if the kid was joking. He did seem to be leaning an awful lot of weight on his little brother.

“Onto the gurney with you,” Derry said gently, holding out his arms to help Ben up. Ben grimaced, but offered no resistance when Derry simply hauled him upwards.

“Bones would be disappointed in you,” Jinn said dryly in Huttese, slumping sideways in the way of children to simply sprawl across the floor.

“Bones isn’t here,” Ben said primly in the same language.

“Stick to Mando’a or Basic, please,” Derry said.

“Jinn barely speaks either of those languages,” Ben said waspishly, switching to Basic.

“I guess you’ll have to translate, then,” Derry said.

Jinn snorted. “For three years, the Seppies have wondered, what's General Kenobi’s price?” he teased, reporter-like, in Huttese. "What would it take to convince him to go against his nature? Against his moral code? Well folks, it turns out it's just Mandalorian sweets."

“I can’t,” Ben said, sprawling back against the gurney. “I’m collapsing from jetii sickness.”

Jinn giggled. Derry scowled as he picked up Jinn and set him on the other gurney.

“I will make you uj cake if you stop being a brat and cooperate with me,” Derry said, and that got Ben’s attention.

The kid narrowed his eyes in both recognition and suspicion. He very, very clearly wanted the cake, and he also very, very much wanted to continue being contrary.

“Will you make enough I can share with Jinn? And one without anything that’s got capsaicin for Snips?”

“Absolutely,” Derry said.

Ben pressed his lips into a thin line. “Fine,” he gritted out.

"Oh, hush you," Ben said, in Basic. "You don't even know what uj'alayi is."

[royalight]

hi fauna! well guess what? you’re not yet done to receive love (and will never will be) — you are absolutely one of those precious souls this community has and i feel very happy and honored to be able to have the chance to interact with you and your most precious muse. i always enjoy our banters and random chats. sending you all the delicious cakes! -kisses on your forehead- p.s. thank you for the egg

AHHH... I AM SO SPOILED ON THIS DAY. THIS THURSDAY ..... SOBS.

and YOU, have been so much fun to interact with. I love that we have a similar sense of humor and are able to jump into mini ic banters <333

you're one of the the nicest people I've met in the FF rpc for SURE.... legit.

I ADORE UUU. (You're welcome for the egg. I can lay you another one)

[maddiem4-writes]

Midway

I stayed up a bit later on this one than I wanted too, but I really got into a flow that I didn't want to interrupt. The more I write these characters, the more I like them. It feels like a good sign to me, that I can't advance the plot without naturally writing character development, and vice versa.

Anyways. You know the drill by now. Close your eyes. It's the Fourth of July, 1982, at the New York State Fair. The heart of the fairgrounds is a busy place, even when it's not bannered red-white-and-blue. Teenagers kiss in the shade behind the portable haunted house, and the line to ride the bumper cars feels eternal. And on the border of the Expo Center, a little girl is closing her eyes, just like you...

The smell hit my nose before I even opened my eyes. Animals, farm animals: cow farts and goat piss and pig muck and horse shit. But also hay, and dust, diesel exhaust, and lilting above it all, cutting through it, the deep-fried irresistible smell of funnel cake. The chaos was wild, alive, constantly teetering between enticement and disgust.

I didn't waste my first moments of sight on Alan. Alan could manage himself. Holding a hand was a skill I'd mastered at age 4, and if my math was right, in here? This particular memory? I was all of 11 years old.

I'd dipped into this memory very briefly that morning, just barely enough to grab a snack and go. I was a little too used to my powers, maybe, only appreciating them when I had a guest to interrupt my routine - to put the magic back into the magic. Looking around me now, I felt the wonder all over again, stepping into this big, impossibly big world, with my whole future ahead of me. It was a lost world, and I'd stolen it back, an immaculate archive woven into my soul.

The Ferris wheel loomed over us, and that terrifying tilting thing I'd never had the guts to ride, and to my left, holding my hand, so did Alan. It was strange to see him so tall. Holding my right hand, was my father. Alan turned to see us and froze in shock, jumped, and I gripped his hand insistently.

"I told you, you have to hold on, idiot." I glared up at him, making a point of it.

"Just… what? Okay first of all you are so tiny and a child. That is not a move you pull right after sex, I shouldn't even fucking have to say that. Nobody should have to say that!" He was backed off as far as he could go, our arms taut. "And like, second, is this your fucking dad?" He looked up, bug-eyed. "Sir I swear this is not what it looks-"

I yanked his arm close enough to stomp on his foot. "Can it, dumbass. We're in a memory. I'm still me, and he can't really react to you. Be cool."

He was hyperventilating, which I took as a sign of direct disobedience. "Oh yeah? Be cool, huh? I've never been in a memory before. I don't know what's going on! And he's looking at me!" My hapless visitor pointed repeatedly, although once would have gotten the point across. "Why's he looking at me?"

I sighed. "People in memories are like… actors. Placeholders that just kind of wait for cues and lines, so they can do their cues and lines. Watch." I looked up at my memory-dad, and he looked at me, with that soft dopey face of his, the kind of deep-set eyes that are brought to you by the letter Beer.

I looked into his eyes and told him, matter of factly, "Ooga booga woogidee woo." Waved my hand in front of his face, and he didn't even flinch.

I took it further. "Mommy sucks off your brother every Thursday night." Memory-Dad's smile never changed, as peaceful and adoring as ever. Man had the patience of a saint, or maybe more aptly, a golem.

"I'll be damned," Alan muttered in wonder behind me. I turned, and he'd settled down almost immediately. I think if he'd had a notepad handy, he'd be filling it full of scribbles on the spot. "Can you control him?"

I smirked. "Nah. He'll just wait forever until I say my line. This place is halfway between a recording and a simulation. He's not reacting, because none of this is what I said next in '82."

"Obviously not. Although to be fair, you do have a bit of Bad Seed energy. It's not unthinkable."

I chuckled. "There's only one thing that's unthinkable, Alan. Can you guess it?"

He grimaced. "Can I guess the unthinkable thing? I doubt it."

I leaned toward him, with a gap-toothed grin. "THE PSYTANIC!"

He groaned, and I stuck my tongue out at him. "Wow. I didn't figure you for awful puns, Lizzy. That's a clunker."

"Oh, you love it," I said, rolling my shoulders in sweet victory.

"You wish!" But he was smiling. I got him. "Truly, you are full of terrifying and terrible talents." He bowed theatrically.

"Yeah." My smile sagged a little. "I didn't come up with that one though. It was… one of my dad's favorites." I looked up at his automaton. "You would have liked him, I think. The real version I mean."

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Kind of a bold claim, for someone who doesn't know me much yet."

"No, but I knew him. He loved everybody, everybody loved him. Well, I guess there were some exceptions. He sure managed to marry one." His image continued to wait, patient and peaceful. It was starting to hurt, to look at his eyes. "I think there had to be a time when mom and dad loved each other. Like, logically, right? Just… sucks that I missed it."

"Yeah." Alan stared at his shoes as the Midway crowd hummed around us. A handful of people screamed distantly as their roller coaster cars ticked over from lift to descent. The popcorn and cotton candy and overtaxed toilets waged war over the air, and the flies buzzed for all of it. Only we stood still. "…. yeah."

I squeezed my dad's hand. He looked at me attentively. I said, softly, "Hey. Can we get slushies?" I felt very, very small.

He nodded, and brightened up with excitement. "Sure, pumpkin, I got a few bucks budgeted for snacks, and I think a slushie would count." He leaned down, until he booped my nose with his. "Do you want…. asphalt flavor?"

I giggled. "No!"

"Do you want… barf flavored?"

I shook my head vigorously. "Nooo! Dad!"

"Do you want… roadkill chipmunk with a cigarette ash swirl, all topped with-"

"Dad!" I suddenly interrupted. This part… would hurt. "I'm not a little kid anymore. I just wanna see what flavors they have, okay? Don't be…" I didn't want to say this line. I was glad I didn't need to get the tone right, and so I said it soft, a soreness in my throat. "Don't be stupid."

His face fell. "Oh." He stepped back a pace, staring ahead. He nodded quietly. "That's how you… okay." He stood up, peered around over the crowd lifelessly. "It's over there. It's… it's over there."

I followed him, and Alan followed me, and at the cart, I picked lime.

We all sat down at a bench together. We were a quiet pack. Alan obviously couldn't order anything, and I didn't feel much like rewarding myself, so I handed mine to him. Dad got peach. We all sat there and watched the people mill and march around us.

Alan put the cup down after a few long sips. "Hey. Look, I'm… sorry about what I said earlier. The bad seed thing. I hope that's not close to home or anything."

I shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. I mean, I joked about Uncle Irwin, and that whole mess was real. Mom was a skank. It's old news, it's fine." I couldn't mask my voice well. I don't think Alan believed me.

He leaned back on the bench. "If it's fine, it's fine." He tapped the straw to his lips, thinking. "I just don't want to say anything hurtful."

I rubbed my temple with my free hand. "God! Can't you see that's a hundred times worse? Don't pity me. I've got a better afterlife than your actual life, if your life was twenty times better. I outgrew all these shitbirds around me." I waved my hand around at my past. "So stop treating me like glassware. These fucks couldn't break me, and neither can you."

He leaned back. "Okay, okay! Jesus." He scratched his head, and winked at me. "Irwin, though. Your mom hoed out for a guy named Irwin."

I laughed, and tossed my hair back. "Well I hoed out for an Alan, and really, who sleeps with an Alaaaan?" I needled him. "The only thing worse would be being an Alan!"

"Heyyyy, what's wrong with being an Alan?" he feigned a great offense. "I've been an Alan all my life, I'll have you know."

"It's a dweeb name! Alan. Look at us, the cuck, the dweeb and the ho."

"A fearsome triumvarate."

"They'll never know what fucked 'em."

"Hear, hear!" He toasted the air in front of me, since I didn't have a drink. Or, well, he had my drink. After a triumphant slurp, he put the half-full cup back down. "On that note, strategy. I haven't forgotten the conversation we're actually here to have."

"Right. You first, wiz kid. What are you up to, in that basement of yours?" My lips curled up, I was genuinely curious.

"A broad variety of things - the broadest possible, really." He cleared his throat. "That's kind of the point. I'm… curious."

"Curious?"

"Yeah, curious. Every type of magic has a feel to it, and details to know, and catches to navigate. Conventional wisdom is, okay, there's too much magic in the world to know it all. Well… fuck that. I don't just want to know everything in the flat and hypothetical sense that I read some words on a page. You don't really know it until you do it, and I want to know… everything."

I tapped my fingers on the wooden table. "Really?" I was fascinated. "'Everything' is… broad, even to read. But you want to do. You realize that your little project is going to include some real fucked up shit, right?"

Alan smiled thinly. "You have no idea."

I found myself very impressed with Mr. Shaw.

He turned to look straight at me. "I think I've incriminated myself enough for one long-past Independence Day, don't you? Now spill, Miss Elizabeth. What's up your sleeve, that you need a half-amateur sorcerer to make it happen?"

The wood was smooth under my slow-moving fingers, polished by heavy use and greyed by sun-bleaching. "I keep my interests close to my chest. But… well… there's a certain spell I'd like to acquire. It has some interesting potential if you put enough juice into it."

He sucked down another sip. "What kind of spell?"

I smiled sweetly at him. "Love."

"That's suspiciously mundane. What are you expecting to happen by amping it up to 11?"

"I'm expecting it to work, Alan. No maybes. Oh, and I'll need to track someone down, but I think I can mostly handle it on my own, unless you have some very interesting contacts."

"Funny you should mention that…"

I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"

"Because, if you can help me with the teeny, tiny resurrection I've been working on…" He winked, and finished off the slushie.

[alonsolobotomy]

alright usually i put off posting poetry on thursdays but this is special occasion since @walmartfairy69 is threatening the life of my dog so here

there isnt really any theme it's really just a vent in poetry form LMAO

"alive or insane"

i swear that im going insane

i can never  reach the back of my brain

And even if i was tame

still no one would play my game

every so often i struggle with thoughts

With people 

with the smallest things not a single other soul would ever think about

why am i always caught up in my head

There's no one up there but me

maybe if i talked more

Maybe that would set me free

but then again 

Will anyone lure me out of my den?

who will listen?

Is this another vision?

if i painted my brains all over the walls

red and pink just like a cake

would anyone still stalk my halls

or am i just making another mistake

if i sound like an attention whore 

fuck you

These thoughts are hard to ignore

Yet you label them few

maybe one day you'll see 

maybe one day ill just lose it

who knows honestly 

one day i might flip my shit

It could be tomorrow

It could be today

It could be next week

It could be soon, I'll say.

one day

one day everything will be set ablaze 

one day my favorite person will never leave my gaze

 god maybe one day for real everything will be okay.

-end-

so yeah i wrote the original at like the middle of the night last night either in a fit of rage or some secret 3rd emotion idfk

i think this edited version is a LOT better...

don't take it too seriously :')

[gojonanami]

sab sab!! it's been a while ehe <3 in the short time i've been away i heard that the leaks are now forever 1 day late??😭 oooh anyways have breaks!🫶 corporate life is soul-sucking🫠 (but payday is not🤭)

hope you week goes splendidly!!

hi bb!! yes so apparently shonen jump arrested several people in japan who were leaking and so now leaks are back to being on wednesday nights / thursday mornings at 5 AM EST lol - i cannot stay up that long, so i just wake up and see the leaks haha

thanks for the reminder bb :) i'm taking breaks when i can - although i just volunteered on doing a gender reveal cake for my sister haha - so we'll see how that goes :)

how have you been? any fun plans this weekend :)

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Thursday, February 8

Ken: That . . . was not . . . permitted. Buffy: Yeah, but it was fun.

~~Anne~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Between Two Geeks (Spike, T) by Apache Firecat

don't punch the driver (Angel/Spike, T) by bladeinthenorth

Words we can't read yet (Willow/Tara, T) by firemanwhenthefloodsrollback

read between the lines (Giles/Jenny, M) by CallMeVampy

Conspiracy (Buffy/Spike, T) by Joan963z

Want (Buffy/Spike, T) by Joan963z

Pratt’s Coffee and Cakes (Buffy/Spike, T) by firemanwhenthefloodsrollback

Willow Needs Kennedy's Help! (Willow/Kennedy, E) by MCorey1317

Anya Get Your Gun (Anya, G) by AJ Fields

It's Good to be Back (Spike, NR) by Distant_Echo_Of_The_Past

For Thirty Pieces of Silver (Drusilla, T) by genericaces

If Only I Could Feel You (Angel/Spike, M) by Bloody_Willamina

No Souls Like Ours (Angel/Spike, G) by CoffeeHunt

A Sign of Things to Come (Crossover with Hellblazer, G) by NAOA

Welcome Home (Buffy/Spike, T) by Joan963z

Epiphany (Buffy/Spike, NR) by Joan963z

Real (Buffy/Spike, T) by Joan963z

Nightmare on Revello Drive (Buffy/Spike, T) by Joan963z

Idea (Buffy/Spike, T) by Joan963z

Playing Loosey Goosey (Buffy/Spike, T) by Joan963z

Undercover Work (Buffy/Spike, T) by Joan963z

Phoenix (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by EllieRose101

[Chaptered Fiction]

Forgiveness Doesn't Come Easy, Chapter 21 (Buffy/Spike, R) by slaymesoftly

Champions of universes, Chapter 2 (Multiple crossings, T) by Bl4ckHunter

To Uncomplicate The Complicated, Chapter 1 (Buffy, M) by Tweety10

Tunnel of Love, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, NR) by Joan963z

Secret Diary of William Henry Allen, Watcher 1908 – 1912, Chapter 1 (OC, M) by jaybird023

Bonds of Shadows, Chapter 8 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Chewbacha

Agency Has It's Price, Chapter 15 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Desicat

Cinder-Buffy, Chapter 18 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by holetoledo

Keep You Ghosted, Chapter 5 (Buffy/Spike, R) by hydranjenna

Unborn, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Lizzie Queen of Meigas

How to...The manual of instructions every Slayer needs, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, R) by JSBirsa

Beg, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Maxineeden

Beneath The Moon And Across The Sun, Chapter 4 (Crossover with Harry Potter, FR15) by BlueZeroZeroOne

Death Is Buffy's Next Great Adventure, Chapter 117 (Crossover with Harry Potter, FR15) by Sharie

A Breath is But a Soundless Whisper, Chapter 19 (Buffy/Spike, 18+) by Blackoberst

Coming Through, Chapter 23 (Buffy/Spike, AO) by hulettwyo

Anarchy Tour, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Alyot

Love Lives Here, Chapter 19 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Passion4Spike

Other, Chapter 8 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Grief Counseling

Massacre at Carabon Hill, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Myrabeth

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork:Darla and Angel Through the Years by eagle_eyes

Artwork:[Angel & Darla] by genericaces

Artwork:[Spike & Drusilla] by problematic-toast

Manip:experimenting by boopsterliv

Gifset:2x15 "Phases" by clarkgriffon

Gifset:BUFFY SUMMERS IN THE REPLACEMENT || SPIKE IN OUT OF MY MIND by detectivedawnsummers

Video: books to read based on your fave BTVS characters by Shannon

[Reviews & Recaps]

February 8, 2000 by on-this-day-btvs

This is our gift | Buffy the Vampire Slayer 5x21 "The Weight of the World" | Normies Group Reaction by The Normies

"The Freshman" (4x1) | *Buffy the Vampire Slayer* Reaction by cass reacts

My FAVOURITE Episode? "The Dark Age" Reaction & ANALYSIS | Buffy the Vampire Slayer 2x8 by Tyler Alexander

Buffy the Vampire Slayer 5x6: Family Reaction!!! by Pennywell Productions

Buffy the Vampire Slayer S02E12 || First Time Watching || "Bad Eggs" by JabberwockyReacts

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER - S6 EP 16 HELL'S BELLS (2002) REACTION VIDEO & REVIEW FIRST TIME WATCHING by Reel Reviews With Jen!

Life Serial: Buffy The Vampire Slayer 6X05 Reaction by Dakara

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Hot Takes! by Another Booktube Channel

Sunnydale Live #3: The Harvest by The Uncanny Fans

Podcast: More Herbie Than K.I.T.T. - Angel S05E17 - Underneath by Pop Culture Role Call

[Recs & In Search Of]

The great Spuffy fanfic hunt! by Artistic_Jellyfish_2

[Community Announcements]

More guests hosts needed by Comment Fic

[Fandom Discussions]

[What if ask] by jbuffyangel

[Faith's emotional damage to Buffy] by izniaok & nevergonnabemuchmorethanweather

[Iconic Buffy moment season 3] by ratanarchist

more buffems by breezybeej

Songs that fit different verse relationships by multiple authors

Willow and Judaism by hikingdyke

I think folks should stop telling people they need to "endure" the show until mid-Season 2 by the-rules-lawyer and multiple authors

Buffy Oops by multiple authors

Spike using a mannequin to practice interacting with Buffy- endearing or cringe? by multiple authors

Even though they were the big bads I loved The Mayor and Faith so much by multiple authors

Parallels between Faith's and Buffy's depression by multiple authors

People seem to keep forgetting that Buffy is the odd one out. by multiple authors

Tara's magic stance by multiple authors

Faith redemption by multiple authors

Evil 101 by multiple authors

Buffy: The Vampire Slayer and/or Angel Alternate Universes or Episode Scenarios? by multiple authors

Do you consider Buffy/Angel dark shows? by multiple authors

What do you think of this Buffy and Faith scene in season 7? by multiple authors

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)