#source: nice argument. unfortunately...

[papermariosuggestion]

[potato-lord-but-not]

“There’s something aesthetically pleasing about the word noon. Its palindromic spelling feels appropriate for the middle of the day, when the sun is directly overhead and the hands on the clock are pointed upward in a straight line. It’s even spelled with letters found more or less in the middle of the alphabet.” (“What Time Is…” par. 1)

Perhaps unfortunately for my argument, this article goes on to explain how the word ‘noon’ originally referred to the ninth hour of the day, that of course being 3 o’clock; because the sun and with it the people rose at six. It is derived from the Latin word for ‘ninth’, ‘nonus’. The word’s meaning apparently shifted during the twelfth century, because of the prayers of monastic orders. The second of three daily prayers would occur at noon, and the time of this prayer eventually became earlier, landing at twelve. This is believed to have been so the monks could break their fast sooner. Of course, this is not universally agreed upon and other theories include shifts in seasonal daylit hours, and European Medieval people’s struggles to have accurate timekeeping.

None of my sources suggest that three o’clock was considered the middle of the day at any point in time, therefore I would like to argue that the word noon did not originally refer to the middle of the day, but eventually, when it was given to the time that is more deserving of that title, came to do so. I believe that the denotation “middle of the day” is something that is both scientifically and culturally awarded, and that for whatever reason the people (however unknowingly) creating the Old/Middle English language believed twelve o’clock to be so. If you wish to create your own cultural norms, by all means go ahead, just remember that the word culture refers to a group, so you’ll need to find some people who agree with you. (Which, hey, maybe you already have, maybe most people agree with you and I’m just being pedantic.)

Anyways um hi, sorry about this, I did in fact make a tumblr account solely to send you this, because the idea of doing so was too funny to me to not.  Also, I just discovered that the Oxford English Dictionary website has a pay wall these days and I am DEVASTATED I tell you, devastated. But yeah, I’ll stop, have a good weekend, I love you, I hope your morning spent on public transit hasn’t been too boring.

Works Cited

“Culture Definition & Meaning.” Merriam-Webster, Merriam-Webster, www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/culture. Accessed 2 Mar. 2024.

“Noon (n.).” Online Etymology Dictionary, www.etymonline.com/word/noon. Accessed 2 Mar. 2024.

“What Time Is ‘Noon’?” Merriam-Webster, Merriam-Webster, www.merriam-webster.com/wordplay/noon-history-ninth-prayer-hour-nones. Accessed 2 Mar. 2024.

OFC you’re leaving citations on A TUMBLR ASK OH MY GODDD anyway I do believe I’m starting a cultural shift because everyone I’ve asked so far has NOT said mid-day is noon they’ve ranged from 11-1 to 1-2 (albeit a bit earlier than my 2-3 answer but STILL)

Yknow what fuck it let’s do a poll bb

anyywayyyy everyone say hi to my girlfrienddd give them a nice warm welcome to tumblr <3

[xclowniex]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by bucket works | Detroit Florist + Flower Farmer (@bucket.works)

Okay so I looked into this because it didn't seem right.

Danzinger sells commercially to 600 customers aka companies. This is on their website and not at all hard to find.

And whilst florists can and some do buy directly from flower farms, for arguments sake, I'm assuming that it's simply just 600 wholsalers and that they don't sell to florists directly,

To get even specific with my numbers, I'm going to look at just one country and how many wholesalers and florists are there and we'll see if it's more than 600. We will look at USA as it's the one I can find data for the easiest

11,593 florists and 500 wholesalers are in the US per the last available data (source at end).

Assuming only 6% of florists buy directly from flower farms which is very much lowballing it as its not rare for florists to buy directly from farms, that is 695.579 florists, but we'll round down to 695 for nice numbers to work with.

695 + 600 = 1,295 companies who could buy from Danzinger. Assuming all 600 customers are from the US, Danzinger doesn't even have the majority of the US market, and he claimed globally! He literally said that Danzinger has a lock on the global market. They don't even have a lock on the US market!!!!!

And that's also assuming all 600 customers buy baby's breath!

Unfortunately this is just another case of antisemitism. It's a common antisemitic trope to claim that jews control the global market. It's still antisemitic when you replace jews with Israel or zionists in a common antisemitic trope

Source for US florists and flower wholesalers below

[justanothersyscourse]

I think this blog is blocked by fewer people that have heard the rumors and lies going around. I hope you'll read this. There are three sides to every story-- yours, theirs, and the truth.

I deserve to get my side out there so people can make informed decisions about who to follow or block, or whatever it is you need to do. It's okay not to support me, but do it for the right reasons.

I also run sysmedsaresexist, and I'm currently being accused of harassing a minor and sending random ass asks left, right and center.

Listen, if you got an ask where the person didn't say, "this is SAS," it's not from me. I HATE asks. On the rare occasion that I send them, I always tell people who I am. I am well aware that I'm a controversial figure. I want people to know who they're interacting with when I talk to them. I am old. It's important that I'm honest with the people I interact with. A lot of people really stepped up to support me, but I would like people to stop. Unfortunately, it's doing more harm than good.

With every one of these messages people send in support of me, the rumors get worse.

I want to defend myself, but I don't know how.

Send a vent to a vent blog that just actively lied about me? They won't post it. (They didn't, I just checked)

So I'll post it myself. You can make your own decision. All posts I've made on the topic are linked here (it's 5, compared to the DOZENS AEV has posted)

This will be my last post on the topic, and I hope that the people spreading these rumors will leave me alone. You've done more damage and harm to me than you know, and without any remorse or apology.

Ask sent to @anti-endo-haven :

I'm SAS and I'm so hurt.

I have not sent ANY anons to AEV, at all, at any point. I have not ASKED anyone to help me in this,

I made 5 posts. They have made about 50 at this point, all cruel.

The first was to AEV on their first post, which was NOT as rude as people say. I said, look webmd and mayo clinic isn't going to hold up to some of the articles that endos are throwing at us. Try some of these. I said, look, you're going to get really tired of hearing the same endo arguments. Here's some points you can throw back at them.

NOT TO MENTION THE MISINFORMATION IN THE POST. Dissociation is only trauma based? Incorrect. Maybe you should reconsider whether you're ready to be in these conversations.

That response was hidden.

The second post, I was correcting an endo that DID wasn't a trauma disorder. I tagged AEV and said, "see, you can be nice about corrections, and these are the kind of sources you should use."

I was blocked.

THIS IS WHEN I CHANGED LABELS. I was so disappointed in the community that I said fuck that, that's not what I want to be, I don't support this behavior. That's another person that AEV turned pro endo. Good job.

Then I saw the anon saying I was an endo. I used my other blog to POLITELY say, "This isn't true, please stop posting about me like this." This post is still on JAS, I didn't delete it like people are claiming

The fourth post was me making my own public post saying, "this child is throwing a tantrum over corrections. Now l'm pissed and I have to make my own public post so people don't believe those lies." This was the first rude post. I called AEV a blemish, and here's why.

I just made a MASSIVE post about dissociation that is actively being spread within the endo community now. All because I changed my label. I don't care if you all want to block me, but don't pretend that you're all doing anything to help by making bad resources for an audience that already believes the same stuff (all these new antis). Now all the new ones are spreading the same bad sources that don't hold up, and we all (yes, you, me, them, the next CDD system in line) look bad for it.

AEV couldn't provide a single source that said DID WAS trauma based, only "usually" trauma based. AEV actually made antis TURN PRO ENDO, because they used so many sources that said "usually". I offered him sources that said it WAS trauma based.

I'm not kidding, you can find the people that changed sides on sophieinwonderland's blog. This is what happened. I don't need to be polite as pie to people inadvertently harming the CDD community, but I certainly wasn't rude about it

My final post, the fifth post, on the subject was the sad one. "My main was leaked." There are people that stalk my blogs. They send me threats and long asks about the things they'd do to me if they found me. When sophie first came to tumblr, I'd get asks about what people wanted ghost to do to me. In the past, every time a new doxxer comes out of their gross hole, I start getting doxxing threats. l've had people get close to my area.

My main being released means those people are one step closer to actually finding me. It means I'm now getting these kinds of messages in my only safe space.

And the anon who sent my main admitted it was done maliciously. We had a falling out like two years ago, because their asks were getting creepy. When I APOLOGIZED TO THEM for ever hurting them because of my own avoidance issues, and told them that on this post, their response was, "well I enjoyed sending them so fuck you." If I ever find that post deleted, I've got a screenshot. You were NOT a minor at the time, you're an adult.

... Nice, really mature. You're definitely safe for minors.

Hey, also, minors, if an adult you just met online calls you "my kiddo", don't respond with an ovo face. Run.

Adults, if you call a minor your kiddo and they're like, owo really, I'm your kiddo? Fucking run.

Anyways.

I haven't said anything since. What can say. My main is out and I'm getting threats on it. Currently. Not "in the future," like the person said. It's happening NOW.

What do all you people want from me? I AM trying to leave you all alone. Stop saying such terrible things about me, godDAMN. I am not harassing minors. I don't want to harass anyone.

WHAT DID I ACTUALLY DO WRONG? I don't understand.

You're not the good guys you think you all are.

Not anymore.

I don't know that you ever were.

[iersei]

okay. let's talk about black terry jr.

-

TL;DR: terry jr is black. that is something that should not be erased. regardless of your access to or willingness to search for the canon material that confirms this, you should not be depicting him as white. whitewashing terry by refusing to think of him as black creates an unsafe space for our black community members, and you should re-examine your personal biases if you choose to insist on continuing to see terry as white.

-

terry jr is black. point-blank. and if terry jr is canonically black, then he should be depicted as such.

i will concede that it is something that you might not spot if you listen through the podcast casually. it's something that i didn't know was actually official in any capacity until recently. and i would like to note that i do not have and have never had access to the dndads patreon. i have not listened to any of the teen talks in full (even the ones released to the public. it's just not my jam.), and any information or spitballing contained within is something that i have either been told second-hand or am completely unaware of. i also didn't look at the official poster (the "everything is alright" poster) that depicted both terry jr and samantha as black.

but the fact of the matter remains that terry jr and samantha are black and have been acknowledged as such within the source material.

once again, i myself didn't seek this information out enough to know it was official canon. so then why have i always depicted them as black anyway?

well when i started engaging with the fandom, i saw what was being presented to me in the fandom was overwhelmingly that terry was indeed black or at least popularly interpreted to be black. and my first and only thought was that that was nice. so i decided to roll with it.

if i really wanted to check if that was canon and it being canon was important to me, i could always have asked around. i could've sought out information from official sources. because if they were black and i just missed it in some way, i would've wanted to check myself. especially because doing so would lead to whitewashing.

but i didn't feel the need to do that because i think that just the added racial diversity was really cool to see on its own.

for argument's sake, there is still the possibility that you'd think it is simply just popular fanon. let's say you chose to not check for yourself whether or not he was canonically black. or let's say that, for whatever reason, you think that what is available isn't enough to sufficiently deem him canonically black. so let's discuss why terry should still be depicted as black even if it was "just" fanon and there were no official artworks to go off of.

i am not of the opinion that fanon in general should be taken as gospel. in fact, there are quite a few things within dndads fanon itself that i personally disagree with and choose not to engage with. the reason why this interpretation in particular is a sore spot is the question of why, after seeing the popular portrayal and recognizing the ability to create racial diversity in a space where a good amount of appearances and identities can be up for interpretation, someone would still choose to depict him as white.

why do you choose to depict him as white? do you have any personal biases that make you think that he would or should be white? do you think that it is unimportant or inconsequential to not depict him as a person of color?

what would be so compelling about making him white that you would choose to go against this interpretation? why is it so important that you continue to see him as white?

who are you ignoring in the process?

i do not think it is deliberately malicious to initially think that terry jr is white. it is the unfortunate truth that white tends to be considered the default. but it begins to rub me the wrong way when anyone chooses to stick with that idea when presented with any evidence or argument to the contrary.

though i will admit that i am not black, i am still a person of color. and i think that creating a fandom space where we can highlight, create, and celebrate racial variety means creating a space where people of color feel safer. and because i would like to uplift the black fandom member who tried to voice their own personal take on this matter, i would like to link back to [this post from vivalapersistence] as the reason why i felt compelled to talk about this in the first place.

i don't want to talk over him, but i want to point out his statement that having this kind of solid representation is important and means something to him as a black person in this community. erasing terry as black means that you would be, intentionally or not, erasing and silencing black voices. it takes away that element of representation within the fandom and does real harm to the black people within when you decide that that representation isn't important. there are real racial connotations to the argument here, and it's frankly a little callous to pretend like there's not.

so maybe let's be nice to the BIPOC in our community spaces, okay?

and i want to make it clear right now. if you want to discuss what i say here, you can discuss this with me.

[doe-eyed-fool]

Prey | Chapter Four

Alastor x Fem!Reader

It was a lovely night, the stars sparkled brightly above, the moon shining it's calm light, even the cool night air was a nice break from the usually warm day. A perfect night for a walk, and that's what you were doing. Walking to Alastor's home, to be more precise. And in your hands, was a dish you had prepared earlier tonight.

The walk to his home took a while on foot, so you made sure to be fast about leaving the house before the meal got cold. You'd hope covering the dish would keep it warm until you arrived. You had made it to his home safely, albeit a but out of breath, you then walked up to his door and knocked a few times.

There wasn't an answer for a minute or two, which worried you slightly. It wasn't too late at night, and you knew Alastor to be a bit of a night owl. Was he already asleep?

It was then you heard a noise coming from somewhere, almost sounding like a door shutting. You looked around for the source of the noise, when it hit you. "Oh that's right." You say under your breath. Alastor had a small shed behind his home, he used it mostly for hunting. He must have just gotten back from one.

You waited another moment, giving him some time to go inside the home, before knocking again. This time, you heard footsteps approaching the door. You smile when the door opened. "Hi, Al." You greet him. "Y/n, what brings you by?" He asks. You hold up the dish. "Made you something. As a thanks for helping me and for being so sweet to me all these years."

Alastor smiled softly and let you inside. "There is really no need to thank me, Y/n. I don't mind helping you out, and of course I'd never be anything but sweet to you. You mean quite a lot to me." Your chest fluttered at his words. He had no idea what he does to you, and if he does, he's cruel to continue doing it.

"You mean a lot to me too, Alastor." You say softly. "Now, let's hurry before this gets cold."

"You walked all the way here didn't you?" Alastor asks. "I did. I wanted to surprise you." You tell him as you walk into the dining room, sitting the meal on the table. "Otherwise, I would have called you over. Don't worry about me, Al. I got here, didn't I?" You chuckle.

Alastor walked to your side, and takes your hand with his own. "Yes, but in the future, just let me come to you. I'd hate for some ruffian to get their hands on you. I'd have to do something quite unsavory, if that happens."

"Always protecting me, Al." You say gently. "When do I get to protect you?" Alastor brings you in closer, placing his free hand on your waist. "You have, don't you remember?" You thought about it for a moment.

"Oh, that's right." You mutter.

Back when you and Alastor were around fifteen, when his father was still around, you had to step in when he and Alastor got into a heated argument. Alastor never did like his father, you didn't blame him, you hated the man too.

He was a terrible man, putting hands not only on Alastor when he was a kid, but his wife as well. And poor Alastor, he had to watch it all happen. Even as Alastor got older, he'd still have to witness his father's outbursts and his mother suffer his wrath. One day, he had enough of it, and decided to speak his mind to his father.

Of course, his father didn't take that well, and quickly became angry that Alastor would take that kind of tone with him. As the yelling from both men started to turn physical, was when you showed up.

You were on your way there to visit Alastor, that's when you saw his father grabbing Alastor by the shirt and raising his fist. You hurried inside and tried to pull his father off of him.

You knew that would most likely result in you getting hurt, but you didn't care. You would not let that brute hurt Alastor, if you could do something to prevent it.

Luckily for Alastor, he let go of him, unfortunately for you, his anger was directed to you now. His father grabbed you wrist roughly and started yelling in your face, saying how you had no business interfering with family matters. That's when Alastor jerked his father away from you, he held you close to him protectively, and threatened his father, daring him to put his hands on you again.

Before things could get worse again, you grabbed Alastor's arm and pulled him away and out of the house. You begged him to come back home with you, or at least calm down. Alastor was beyond furious with his father for what he's not only done to his mother, but you as well. He wanted nothing more than to go back into that house and give him what for.

But you wouldn't allow it. Again you tried desperately to get him to calm down, thankfully he did. As he did, he pulled you into a hug and apologized over and over for what happened. You didn't need to witness such a vicious fight, nor did you need to get involved and nearly hurt because of it.

But you didn't mind. You hated seeing Alastor like this, hated even more whenever you'd see him with a new bruise or busted lip because of that horrible man. You couldn't take seeing him like that anymore.

And it wouldn't stop, until his father finally up and left, with no explanation as to why. One day he was there, the next he was gone. It shouldn't have took that long, it should have never started to begin with. But, the two of you couldn't have been more relived that he was gone.

"I'd do it again." You tell Alastor. "It doesn't matter if it were that man, or ten men just like him. I just wish there was something I could have done to stop you from being hurt."

Alastor planting a soft kiss on your temple. "You have a good heart Y/n, but a weak mind." You furrow your brows and pout slightly. "Hey."

"I'm sorry, but it's true." Alastor chuckled. "You don't need to put yourself in danger for someone like me."

'Someone like me'

What was that suppose to mean?

"Anyhow, tell me, what did you make?" Asked Alastor. "Just an old recipe my mother use to make." You answer. "I hope you like it. I'm not as good of a cook as you are, but, I'm not terribly bad. At least I hope."

"Nonsense, I love your cooking." Alastor says with a wave of his hand. "Now let's dig in."

We had talked for a while after finishing dinner, so long that I hadn't realized how late it was. Alastor didn't want me to walk home at this hour, so he offered for me to stay in one of the guest rooms. I was pretty tired, so I didn't argue.

"You'll have to forgive me, the only thing I have for sleep wear is my own clothes." Alastor chuckled lightly as he opened the door to the guest room. "As you know, it's only me living here."

"It's alright. I don't mind." You say, stepping further into the room. "I'll be right back with something for you to change into." Alastor says before leaving you alone. You take a look around the room. It was clean and neat, untouched. Seems like you would be the first person to sleep in this bed. Speaking of the bed.

You took a seat on it, sinking in slightly. It was really soft, much softer than your bed. You sigh and lay back on it. Gosh, you were really tired.

The sound of the door opening again, made you sit up straight. Alastor walked in, holding some folded clothes. "Comfortable?" He asks teasingly. You roll your eyes with a smile. "Yes. A guest should be comfortable, no?"

Alastor walked to your side and set the clothes next to you. "You have a point." He says. "You can be comfortable like this all the time, if you would just-"

"Alastor, I already told you." You say with a sigh. "Alright, alright." Alastor mutters. "Well, at least you're not walking home right now. Who knows what kind of people are out at this hour."

"You could have drove me home." You brought up. "Why didn't you?"

"Perhaps, I just wanted you here for a night." His answer made your heart skip a beat. Does he have any idea how that sounded? You laugh it off and take the clothes. "Alright, get out of here so I can change." You didn't miss the smirk on Alastor's face as he walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

You sigh before getting undressed. Looking at the clothes Alastor gave you with a slight smile before picking them up. They looked almost too big for him, then again, Alastor had always been a thinner built man.

You put the clothes on and yawn before getting into bed.

Your slumber was interrupted some time later, as you heard noises from just outside of the window, that next to your bed. You tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but it proved to be difficult as the noises continued. You groan slightly and sat up in bed, rubbing at your tired eyes.

You move your legs over the side of the bed before standing, and walking to the window. Moving aside the curtains, and narrowing your eyes, you saw a figure walking inside of the small shed. Your brows furrowed. Was...Was that Alastor? What was he doing out there so late?

After a few seconds, presumably Alastor walked out of the shed holding a large sack over his shoulder. What on earth was he doing? You continued to watch as he moved further away from the shed, and slowly disappearing into the darkness. There was a large stretch of woods behind his home, and looked like he was going right into it.

Why? What was he doing out there?

You couldn't help but feel a little worried. Alastor was a capable man, but who knows what could be lurking out there? Bears or wolves, surely. Maybe even killers...

You shook your head, dismissing the thought. Though, now that you thought of it, it didn't seem to leave your worried mind. You were starting to get anxious now.

Just as you began to move away from the window, you felt a cold brush of air at the nape of your neck. You shivered and moved your hand to your neck. Weird...

You slowly turned around, and quietly walk out of the room, and make your way down the hall. All the while, contemplating going after Alastor. The more logical side of you was against it. Alastor knew these parts far more than you did. You'd just get yourself lost or hurt in those woods, especially when it's this dark out.

But the more anxious side of you was worried for his own safety. Sure he knew the area, but that doesn't mean he still couldn't get hurt.

What should you do?

As you pondered, you felt the same brush of cool air against you. This time, brushing up your arms. You cover your arms in a self-hug, trying to warm yourself up again. Was the heat not on? You kept walking the hall, before stopping at Alastor's door. It was slightly opened.

You knew how Alastor felt about his privacy, he had his boundaries even with you. You of course, respected those boundaries. But right now, your nerves were getting the better of you. You take a peek inside, the room was completely pitch black. But you could make out that Alastor was not inside.

So it was him out there...

You back away from the door and slowly make your way down the stairs. The whole house was dark, only amplifying the chill you felt. You walk towards the back of the home, and to the back door.

Looking out the screen door, a sudden feeling of dread washed over you. And once more, you felt another chill. This one, more intense than the last.

You gasped lightly and turned around, just as you did, you saw something move in the darkness out of the corner of your eye.

"What was that?"

[apocalypse-shuffle]

ALCIDE HERVEAUX (true blood)

—

“Formality” (Alcide Herveaux x Fem!Reader)

| Rikki left you with a task to fulfill: train Alcide how to fight your pack’s way. Unfortunately for you, though, the man is about as irritating as he is nice to look at.

| NSFW, enemies to lovers-ish, training, brief werewolf transformation, reader-insert is shorter than Alcide, UST, pre smut -werewolf!reader

| Pic source: True Blood (2008-2014)

| Happy Halloween Eve!! 🐾

| 1k+ words

“GOD-FUCKING-DAMNIT, ALCIDE!”

Your lungs ache with the force of your shout, throat already sore from just five minutes of arguing.

In all honesty you’ve just about had it. Had it with all of the yelling and name-calling that happened so often when you and this bullheaded-ass man were alone together that always ended with both of you bruised and frustrated.

Today was no different.

The pack barn was empty — everyone had cleared out once they heard you and Alcide start going at it. And to top it all of you can’t even remember what you’d actually been planning to do with him today, you just know that Alcide Herveaux is a pain in your ass and you do not plan on letting up your argument anytime soon.

You’ve been training him in place of Rikki for the fight against y’all’s current piece of shit packmaster, JD. Rikki and you had aligned with Alcide when he challenged JD because you could both see that he was leading the pack down a shitty path.

Rikki had been ready to challenge JD herself, with you as her second, before Alcide came along and y’all decided that since he’d already killed one of his past packmasters and managed to become packmaster of what was left of his own pack that hadn’t defected to the vamps under Cooter, he’d do.

Alcide was doing a good enough job with his pack in Jackson, after his old packmaster up and left when the vampires had indoctrinated the majority of his wolves, so you were willing to back him up in taking control and merging packs.

If only he’d focus less on fucking with you and more on training.

Rikki wasn’t training him because she was dealing with a runaway, a teenaged pup chasing V. So now the duty was on you to be Alcide’s second and prepare him for fighting against a coked up werewolf.

“What’s the matter, Boss, worried for me? I took on Marcus, I can take JD,” Alcide says, smirking.

One brow raised, you roll your eyes.

“Uh huh, I’m sure a werewolf two times as fast and bloodthirsty will be the exact same. Training at this point is just a formality,” your words drip heavily with sarcasm before you shift to come at him with a barrage of kicks.

Alcide takes the first hit like a pro and blocks the rest without much trouble. That is until you get close enough to knee him in the nards, wait until he’s keeling over to grab hold of his junk, then aim for the side of his neck on your next strike instead of his torso.

He doesn’t block your attack in time by a landslide and falls the rest of the way to the ground like a crumpled marionette a second later. You’d have more sympathy for a puppet.

Blinking down at him you watch him struggle on his knees. Kneeling with his hand on his throat, breath wheezing out as his body struggles to heal his esophagus. Supernatural or not, a hit to the throat was a hit to the throat.

Once Alcide gets his bearings he looks up at you with glowing yellow eyes and glares.

“For something so small you sure can hit hard,” he grunts out. He starts stripping out of his shirt.

Scoffing, you shrug; determined to take any injuries he got as seriously as he was your training.

This wasn’t a game and you needed him to start acting like it.

Quickly.

“Mhm.” You drum your fingers against the dark skin of your arm, lips pursed. “Next time throw your forearms up to block a kick to the head or neck, and don’t let yourself get so damn comfortable. You left your dick right open, I was practically invited. And if you're about to get hit in the head pretty much just fall back as much as possible. A hit to the temple or undercut will knock you out.”

And that’s all you give him in lieu of a more clever retort.

Alcide huffs out a breath as he stands, movements slow, “I’ll keep that in mind if JD’s crazy ass pulls out unknown judo skills. Come on, Y/n, he’s not coming at me with anything but wild punches, fang, and claw. So yeah, this is formality.”

You grit your teeth.

“Trained or not, JD is unstable with all that V in him. So formality or not, we’re training so you’re ready regardless of what he throws at you. But since you seem so set on it, we can train with fang and claw.”

You glare as Alcide chuckles, looking you up and down. You’re just about ready to screw it all at this point with his bullshit appeasement routine and walk out when he drops his pants and lunges.

“I’ll take you up on that,” he growls, his shift taking over in the midst of his final word.

Eyes widening, you just barely jump out of the way of the downward swipe of his claws. You don't have time to marvel at the juxtaposition of Alcide, Mississippi lumber man, being an arctic wolf before you’re bursting outside of the barn and into the woods.

A wolf-like snigger and the pounding of paws hitting the earth is what you hyper focus on as you run, throwing bits and pieces of clothing off as you go. You don’t bother trying to take off your socks as you toss your T-shirt overhead and rip the shorts from your body.

Fuck it, you’re not losing to Alcide of all wolves.

Alcide nips at your heels once playfully and you growl low in your throat, eyes flashing to life. The glow casts the land in front of you a faint yellow as you whizz by, speeding up and putting a couple feet of distance between you and the other wolf. Your own wolf pulls at your control as Alcide growls behind you in a goad; clearly you’re taking too long to engage for his liking.

Smirking, you speed up even more before jumping and grabbing a hold of a low hanging branch. You swing yourself up and perch atop, watching in amusement as Alcide blows past you and then skids. He kicks up dirt as he turns around with a high pitched yip. It has you laughing while you shed your underwear and socks, letting them fall to the ground below.

Your panties land directly on top of the other wolf’s head and you watch him struggle to paw them off long enough for him to start getting irritated and growl to himself before you push yourself off the branch and book it towards the swamp.

Hardly skipping a step, your shift takes place, and with the switch everything is so easy.

Your paws pound on the earth and your lungs fill with the essence of the swamp as you howl and charge straight for the water.

You’re maybe part of the way there, going so fast you’re well on your way to flying, when you’re veering left completely absent of your own accord.

Yelp caught in your throat you go crashing into the brush, the full brunt of Alcide’s arctic wolf ramming into your side and bowling you off your path.

With brief flashes of shimmering light you both transition back to “human”, your brown skin getting peppered with sticks and sand and flora without your wolf’s thicker skin and lush fur as a barrier.

Instead it’s the tight curls at the top of your head that snag against leaves and twigs as you tumble with Alcide’s skin sliding against yours, but you don’t even mind, a new weight falling from your shoulders bit by bit with every roll.

When you both come to a stop you’re splayed on top of him, hands locked around his tanned arms and both of your legs tangled.

He chuckles and it’s a boyish lilting thing, still gulping for air as he looks you up and down, a wave of desire rising in his warm brown irises.

It isn’t until then that you notice just how close you are to each other. You drop your head closer to him and gaze your own bright eyes into his. His bare chest, surprisingly not hairy, heaves up and down as he grins at you. You match his energy, breaths just as labored as Alcide’s.

His gaze is all wild and sharp. Filled with a wolf’s playfulness.

“You’re a pain in my ass Herveaux,” you pant, pupils blown wide with lust as you glance down at his mouth.

You have been working hard, you muse. A reward would be nice.

He licks his lips.

“You love it.”

“Occasionally,” you counter, a growl rumbling in your chest, and then you’re both crashing into each other again (just a little to the left this time).

The kiss is all vigor. Teeth clacking together and tongues battling for dominance, another race all on its own. Alcide eventually makes you lose ground and gets you on your back. You both break apart to gasp for breath.

“You gonna let me fuck you?”

His hand goes to squeeze around the side of your neck and you find yourself baring it for him, a tiny whimper pushing past your lips.

“Take a break?” You blink up at him, eyes soft, but hold a finger up so he doesn’t move on you just yet. “—So long as you get it together when we’re done.”

─────

Your airy voice and soft noises make his wolf tremble with the urge to claim. To mate. Alcide pauses to take a deep breath, ease the way his beast rattles, but it doesn’t do a damn thing but make his cock twitch and fatten. The other werewolf smells like straight arousal.

Brimstone and something earthy, inherently woody and unquestionably you, fills his nose and whatever inclination he had to pace himself firmly slips to the back of his mind.

“Yeah, Babydoll, let’s take a break. I’ll be as good as I can be afterwards.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

Mind any typos, I will get to them later. And, yeah, I did give a little nod to Monster Squad (1987) with that ‘nards’ bit.

There’s also a high possibility I might rewrite/repost this later with more story due to the time constraints of trying to get this out today not allowing for as much expansion as I would’ve wanted, but yeah.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[a-dragons-journal]

not everyone experiencing a delusion recognizes it’s a delusion. nice to know you’re just sanist tho.

I assume that this is about the “so endels are okay but p-shifters aren’t?” ask from the other day?

Assuming so: I recognize that, and it’s unfortunate, but you (general you, not you specifically) can’t get away with making whatever claims you want by saying “but some of the people saying it might be experiencing a delusion about it without realizing,” because then no one can criticize any claim ever, and that’s not a sustainable world.

If you make a claim about objective, physical, shared reality, then people have the right to challenge that claim, and you should be able to provide evidence - and if you can’t, you’re either lying or you’re just wrong, whatever the source of the wrongness is (which might be a delusion, or might not be). And it is not morally wrong to be wrong, but it’s still incorrect. This is especially important when the claim is associated with beliefs and/or behavior that’s directly harmful to other people - which is demonstrably true of p-shifters, both in the sense of the history of using p-shifting claims to manipulate people by promising to teach them how it’s done, and in the sense of untagged unreality directly harming delusional people. You can’t, for instance, excuse someone claiming the COVID vaccine is actually dangerous and a conspiracy theory by the US government to kill [x group of people] by saying, “well, but some of those people might be experiencing a delusion that that’s real, so challenging their belief and pointing out the harm it’s doing is sanist!”, or at least I hope we agree that that’s a bad plan. (P-shifting isn’t quite as directly harmful as that example, but it illustrates my point.)

EDIT: And just for the record - if you (general or specific, as appropriate) have a constructed counter argument here as to why I actually am being accidentally ableist here, please do hit me with it, genuinely. I am not immune to errors and I’ve misstepped on the front of how to handle and talk about delusions before. I am not immune to “get his ass” when appropriate.

[my-deer-friend]

Hi! :) I Have a New question!

Did John Laurens wore a wig frequently in his youth in Geneva or England? Do you know something about that?! or where to look for such information about the appearance and clothing of the historical figures? I Mean not the period clothings, but the records, descriptions of the look of the exact person? Unfortunately John did not have many of them, as far as I know. I saw once people describing him with different hair colours, but on not verified websites so I do not much believe them but it is so confusing!

Answer Of course if you want to share with them! Have a nice day! <3

Unfortunately, I have exactly the same question regarding wigs, and I haven't managed to find an answer.

I don't think he would have worn one in Geneva, and it's also unlikely in England, since he never finished his law studies and thus did not join the bar (where a wig was mandatory dress). Wigs were fairly expensive, and John does mention many of the pricier purchases he makes to his father, so if he was investing in one you'd expect to find it brought up there.

In the army, as far as we can tell, John wore his natural hair powdered – a wig would have been a nightmare to maintain, and unnecessary anyway. That's also how he has it in the single contemporaneous portrait we have of him, so it's hard to be sure of his hair colour.

The other time he might have worn a wig was during his trip as special envoy to Versailles in 1781, but it doesn't get mentioned either way in any of the correspondence I've seen. Most likely, to me, John would have shown up to court in his military uniform to enhance the arguments he was making (and to provide a ready excuse for his often unsubtle advances), so a wig would have looked out of place. And I'm sure Franklin would have advised him accordingly, to appear more 'authentically American', like Franklin himself was doing.

The best source for someone's appearance is portraits done from life, but even these can vary considerably. Descriptions by people who knew them personally can be helpful, but these are less reliable (see the endless arguments about Hamilton's eye colour).

[lgbtlunaverse]

Just read your post about Nie Mingjue not understanding Jin Guangyao’s excuses not to throw Xue Yang out of the Jin window. I love your insight!!!

May I ask what, in your opinion, was Lan Xichen’s view on all this? Because he is the peacemaker, he seems to side with jgy always, but also can’t possibly know about the demonic cultivation…

(that’s the post, btw. Don’t know if you’ve made more than one) https://www.tumblr.com/lgbtlunaverse/744152124570697728?source=share

I'd argue that lan xichen doesn't really always side with jin guangyao, and related to this exact incident we can later hear him telling jin guangyao not to "provoke" Nie Mingjue anymore, while assuring him that things with da-ge are fine. He's a peacemaker, like you said. His ideal solution is getting everyone to just be nice to each other. And because Nie Mingjue is the one most outwardly angry, his first instinct in any fight is to get him to calm down so they can have a civil discussion or, even better, just drop the subject and pretend it never happened. Since jin guangyao is usually also eager to drop the subject, this means they end up agreeing. But it's more of a sign that their methods of conflict resolution are compatible than a sign that they always agree. (There are certainly times lxc genuinely agrees with jgy and disagrees with nmj! But i'd say it's not as universal as fandom makes it seem)

Indeed, since Xichen also doesn't know about the demonic cultivation, I kind of believe Xichen sort of agrees with Nie Mingjue that Jin Guangyao could get away with killing xue yang– he just thinks da-ge's way is the wrong way to go about asking that of him– because as far as xichen is concerned, jin guangyao actually was planning on killing Xue Yang!

Remember, after the fight, jgy tells nmj that he'll bring him xue yang's head. To Xichen, this is a satisfying solution, because it gets da-ge what he wants so he can calm down, which is always xichen's goal. If he believed doing this put jgy in serious danger, he might have objected a bit more. But he evidently thinks the risk is minor enough to be worth it for the ultimate sake of peace.

Him stopping nmj is about just that, making sure no one gets killed. And reminding nmj that jgy's family mistreats him, in that light, sounds less like an argument that he can't do it and more of a plea to give him more time to figure things out. (Again, Xichen is always eager to delay or avoid confrontation)

To Xichen, here's what happened: Jin Guangshan refuses to kill xue yang, nmj got really mad at a-yao over that, xichen de-escalated the situation, and a-yao promised to kill xue yang, he just needed time to do so. Yay! Solved! Except then da-ge died. (Yes, jgy killed him, and was never planning on killing xue yang, but xichen didn't know that) And xue yang was freed, but a-yao and he were busy grieving their oldest sworn brother! They kind of had other things going on! And then, some amount of months later, Jin Guangshan died, A-Yao became chief cultivator, and promptly killed xue yang! (He wasn't dead, but xichen didn't know that) Everything worked out in the end, it's only an unfortunate tragedy that da-ge died too soon to see that a-yao really was dedicated to him. 😔

We don't know what his exact reaction was before the nieyao stairs confrontation, but it was probably in the rough shape of xichen very politely asking jgy if he could at least try to convince his dad, and jgy saying he would but he wasn't sure if it'd work. That seems like something they'd do.

[autumnmobile12]

When people say, 'You can't ship that! Those characters have never met!'

Those characters have never met.

...and???

...

I found a tiktok the other day where a bunch of people in the comments were going on about how stupid it was that people were shipping X with Y because those characters never met in canon or only shared one interaction in canon and how '...the fandom is unfortunately like that.'

So here's the thing:

My sister and I used to play a game where we would come up with ships based on names pulled from a hat and judging what random pairings came out of it. Didn't matter the fandom, didn't matter the characters. (Except age gaps that were too wide for comfort and underage-adult ships.) The crazier the better, and we came up with some pretty weird but wholesome ones. My sister also has an entire fic of one-shots featuring Soul Eater rare-pairs that are so rare, they are unicorns in that fandom.

Crossover ships (platonic or romantic or otherwise) are my jam.

One of my favorite ships is a crossover ship. Shizuo Heiwajima (Durarara!!) and Adult!Mai Taniyama (Ghost Hunt) sure as hell have never met, I’m pretty certain I’m the only one here, but I didn't let that stop me.

I've shipped Seras (Hellsing) and Lenore (Castlevania Netflix). No particular reason, I just like it.

The cast of D. Gray Man is so diverse and insane that you can put any two characters together and you'll get either an interesting ship, an interesting conversation, or at the very least, a very entertaining argument.

The My Hero Academia fandom likes to write fanfiction where Mirko and Hawks are besties. Those characters never talk in canon. They share maybe one or two scenes together and they don't directly interact. It's just vibes.

And 'just vibes' is pretty much the entire essence behind some ships.

The Castlevania Netflix fandom loves Trephacard so much that I once saw a post here on Tumblr where someone admitted they legitimately forgot it wasn't a canon ship. Alucard and Trevor interact quite a bit, sure, but the point still stands. It's fanon, people love it, deal with it.

The Harry Potter Drapple ship was a thing. (Or maybe it's still a thing, I don't know, I'm not in the Harry Potter fandom.) So don't tell me I can't ship X with Y because they've never met in canon when there is a literal person x inanimate object ship floating around the internet.

I. Don't. Care that X and Y never met. Maybe they have some niche thing in common was worth exploring. Maybe they have similar personalities. Maybe they're total opposites and that was the appeal. Maybe I just woke up and felt like it. The whole point of fanfiction is that does not have to be canon-compliant. Did you expect a word for word document of the source material?

X and Y have certainly never met. But what if they did? Is that not what fanfiction is for?

We're here to have fun, express ourselves, and maybe work through personal issues we got going on in private.

Personally, after coming from some smaller fandoms that primarily work with only one or two ships and nobody mixes it up, I like the variety of a multi-ship fandom. Or no ships at all. It’s nice to also avoid the drama when you don't feel like reading the shipping material.

At the end of the day, don't go shaming/harassing people for shipping what they like, whether it's a mainstream ship or a rare-pair that's so rare it's got an audience of one. If it's a ship you don't like or find problematic, just don't read it. Go find something you do like. (Trust me, there's a part of the Black Butler fandom I stay far away from.)

Let people like what they like, let people be weird, let people build their ships from scratch if they want.

Tag everything properly.

Have fun.

Or Reepicheep will pay you a visit.

And to anyone who says, 'You can't ship that, those characters have never met.'

[666writingcafe]

Arriving At Serenity Manor

"Welcome to Serenity Manor!" Asmo exclaims. "What do you think?"

There are a lot of things on my mind at the moment.

First, I hope Solomon doesn't destroy anything in my home as he's house sitting, because he did seem a little too eager when he offered his services.

Second, there are a lot of words I would use to describe what it's like living with the brothers, but 'serene' is not one of them. Not by a long shot.

Finally, there's the property itself. I've certainly driven past it before, but I don't recall it being quite so...big. Perhaps there's some magic involved that has increased its size to accommodate extra things, but still.

"It's a bit overwhelming. Beautiful, but overwhelming."

"You'll get used to it," Asmo responds. Our conversation gets interrupted by a basketball rolling towards us. I stop it with my foot before leaning down and picking it up.

"Thanks, MC." Turning my head towards the voice reveals Beel jogging up to me, followed by a casually strolling Belphie.

Beel's in a pretty typical workout outfit with his black tank top and camo sweatpants, although he's sporting a tattoo on his upper arm that I don't recall seeing before. Meanwhile, Belphie is surprisingly stylish with his matching jacket and shoes. I wonder if Asmo had anything to do with it, because Belphie usually values comfort over fashion.

Belphie sighs, bringing me back to reality.

"Once again, Beel, I'm not nearly as tall or as athletic as you. I can't keep up with all the rapid movement." He glances over at me and jerks his head up in acknowledgement.

"I can take that." Before any of us can protest, Beel grabs my suitcase and walks away from us, presumably to head inside.

"I didn't know Beel was into basketball," I tell Belphie, tucking the ball under my arm.

"It's more of a hobby for him than anything else. Plus, he's kinda banned from playing it competitively at RAD." Asmo nods his head in agreement before adding,

"There's definitely more rules in basketball than in fangol. I love Beel, but he's not exactly concerned about other people's safety when he participates in sports. Right kind of attitude for fangol, not so much for basketball."

"I see." The three of us begin walking up the driveway towards the front door. "So, Asmo mentioned that you guys adopted human alias?"

"Yeah. It was Lucifer's idea." Belphie rolls his eyes. "Beel's 'Ben', and I'm 'Beau'."

I can see Beel being a Ben, but Belphie being a Beau? Not exactly a common name, for one. I mean, there's Beau Bridges, but Belphie's nothing like him.

Asmo must have noticed the confused look on my face, for he exclaims,

"Belphie, I told you to pick a different name!"

"What's wrong with Beau? It's a nice, quiet name."

"We're supposed to be young adults in the twenty-first century! Tell me, when was the last time you saw a Beau, huh?" The bickering continues as we enter inside the manor, and I tune it out as I take in my surroundings. Unlike the House of Lamentation, everything's very bright and open. I wonder if this is what the manor looked like initially before the demons began tinkering with it.

Figuring it best to let Asmo and Belphie handle their argument themselves, I walk down the corridor to further explore the manor. Unfortunately, before I get very far, my little adventure gets interrupted by the sound of someone...crying? Pleading? It's too soft for me to tell exactly what it is, but in any case, it sounds pretty sad. As I walk closer to the source of the noise, I begin making out specific words.

"Heeelp...someone get me down from here."

Of course.

It's Mammon.

What did he do this time?

[legally-allowed-to-slime]

thoughts on the final girls alliance as of ep 2?

(I saw you asking for open ended questions and ngl I thought about sending you one that’s just straight up “give me your Scott thoughts” but then. That might be Too Much)

you’re right about the scott part but it’s funny how much i talk about him considering i don’t even watch his pov (just me, i can’t stand the editing and him repeating the same thing to different people. chronic yapper unfortunately)

honestly i feel like although their relationships are obviously strained, the alliance is going to stick mostly together. idk if this is a hot take but people always say pearl is chasing the conflict, but imo both pearl and scott are very conflict-avoidant.

i don’t count double life because that was cc!pearl deliberately putting on a persona that was very different from how c!pearl would naturally act (though, of course, still within reason)

now obviously for scott because he explicitly tells his audience and tells other players that he’s not here to make enemies, even a surface-level viewer can tell that he doesn’t usually instigate. but because pearl doesn’t do any of that meta commentary in the life series and just goes along regularly her interactions go more unnoticed and it’s far easier to just believe it when scott says “pearl’s trying to make enemies”. i have no idea why he’s still seen as a reliable source but whatever he says automatically becomes entrenched in fanon. as you might expect this is aneurysm-inducing for a pearl main

now i’m being subjective when i say pearl doesn’t actively seek enemies, at least not like joel or scar. my most persuasive argument is that people often bring up that scott places high because of the way he plays the social game. the thing is, pearl places higher. and she’s not distinctly better at pvp than scott.

“the social game” isn’t just making allies with everyone. it’s knowing your limits. scott indiscriminately makes friends with everyone, but pearl doesn’t bother with that. take SL. pearl didn’t try to have friendships with everyone, but she stuck with mounders, and she stuck with gem, resulting in both alliances having a shared advantage. the end justifies the means; if pearl makes a few enemies along the way, but she still places high, doesn’t it show that she’s clearly careful about her chances of survival? it’s the same with scar: he may act oblivious, but if he wins the season, you can’t really say anything.

anyway, i don’t think pearl does try to make enemies. she’s just a mirror, in that if you wrong her she’ll wrong you a thousand times over. but if you’re nice/neutral to her she’s not going to try and anger you for no reason, which is a strange characterisation for her

as an aside: ever since DL pearl has been treated like a ticking bomb in general so her actions undergo a lot more scrutiny (in-game) than scott’s. so unless she treads really really carefully there’s always bound to be someone calling her insane, and pearl is not the type to tread carefully.

back to the topic at hand. like i said, since pearl and scott prefer to avoid conflict, neither of them would be the type to pull something as dramatic as a betrayal. yes, they would snark each other constantly, but they’re both trying to upload the status quo (one more successfully than the other), and they’re both so desperate to be seen as loyal (again, one more successfully than the other). that’s their problem. they’re both the “good guys” in their heads (the validity of this is up to interpretation), so they probably wouldn’t pull a “bad” stunt like deserting or betraying.

as for cleo and impulse, they don’t really have direct beef with anyone else in the alliance. it’s mostly pearl and scott. if you squint maybe pearl/cleo? but they’re actually pretty civil if you take scott out of the equation. so yeah

[onyxrosess]

Pain is My Hometown

vergil x reader [multi-chapter series]

Chapter III: Only Fools Follow Their Heart

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III [you're here!] | Chapter IV | Table of Contents

・warnings/tags: some mature topics.

( cross-posted on ao3 )

A few days have passed since going out with Dante and the girls, after your conversation with Nero— well it was an argument. You apologized to him the morning after, still feeling a little guilty for your delivery of your concern. Nero of course did not hold a grudge, just brushed it off and resumed life as normal. Later that day Kyrie shouted at you, someone was calling asking for you. Secretly, not really a secret at all, you hoped it was Kane. It had been radio silence since two nights prior. 

And as luck was in your favor, Kane’s voice spoke through the landline. It was different hearing his voice so clearly instead of being suppressed by blaring music and shouting. The conversation went well, giving him Devil May Cry’s number. Since the city had far more job opportunities than Fortuna, you had already started looking at job listings passively, not having to rely on Kyrie’s endless support would be nice for a change. Relying on Dante felt more morally correct, two negatives make a positive right?

Currently, you sorted through a package Kyrie received as a gift for her help in the orphanage. Most of it was household items, as Kyrie never accepted money, she barely even let you help around the house. Selfless woman, but it’s admirable to give without guarantee of something in return. Making a pile of unopened letters addressed to Kyrie for her to read, some of the return addresses had names you recognized, there were a few kids in Fortuna who came to Kyrie for help after a small hell gate had opened. Luckily it had happened when Nero and Nico were in town. It was nowhere near the scale of the artificial hell gates that had opened in Fortuna when The Order was around. But enough to leave kids without parents, or parents to grieve their children’s lives. 

Ringing filled the room as the landline was the clear source. You walked over and held it to your ear as your other hand still had an envelope in it. “Hello?” “Hey party animal.” You rolled your eyes, you had one drunken night in the past 6 months and now you’re the party animal. “Shut it, what did you call for?” “You said you were looking for jobs right?” Your interest was now piqued, instead of just being playfully annoyed with Dante. “Yeah, I am.” “Well, your dearest friend has an offer for you.” Why does this sound like it’s not gonna end well? Back to being annoyed with him. You reluctantly hummed a response. “How about you come help with some of the shop's legal papers. I’ll pay ya.” “I thought you were short on work, where the hell are you gonna get money to pay me?” “I have my ways.” Last time you checked this man was far deeper into debt than you could even imagine. “It won’t be all the time, the stack of papers does end eventually. Plus Trish and Lady will be there sometimes. I’m not a very strict boss.” A sigh left your lips, it wasn’t a bad deal. Filing papers and calling companies didn’t seem that bad. “Fine.” “You’re amazing, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Yeah yeah, whatever old man.” Dante shouted at you through the phone but just as quickly as that started you hung the phone back up with a satisfying click and a smile on your face.

The sun peaked above the horizon, filling your bedroom with a warm glow, unfortunately waking you up from your slumber. Stretching your muscles in an attempt to also wake them up. Very uncoordinated this morning you swing your legs over the edge of your bed, bashing your ankle into the metal box spring. A prolonged curse left your gritted teeth, at this point, you needed a padded room. You’d probably still manage to nick yourself. 

Putting on something simple, but still comfortable— it’s not like your job for Dante was anywhere near professional, he’s the opposite of professional. Walking down the hallway, passing Nero and Kyrie's bedroom, Nero’s snores seeped through the walls. Into the living room, Kyrie was already up, her hands wrapped around a coffee mug. She was always a morning person. She sat on the couch, the kids must still be asleep too. “Morning, Kyrie.” You addressed her, she turned around somewhat surprised, “What are you doing up so early?”  Admittedly, it was pretty abnormal for you to be up at the ass crack of dawn.  “Dante offered me to work for him. Just temporarily I think anyway.”  Kyrie smiled, “Well, I won’t keep you then.”  “It’s not a worry, he didn’t give me a time to be there.”

Getting a quick bite to eat and snagging some of Kyrie’s coffee, you asked about the kids with Kyrie, and she talked about some returning faces. Chatting back and forth you bid her farewell, leaving into the garage. Pulling your arms through your jacket, you zipped it up before putting your helmet on. It wasn’t too early that your motorcycle would wake everyone up, it wasn’t that loud—or maybe you just are losing your hearing.

The drive over to Red Grave was peaceful, besides the few drivers who you questioned how the hell they got their license. Driving through the gravel alley, you kicked your stand up, like many times before. Turning the backdoor handle, you stepped into the shop, your eyes on the ground while you took off your helmet. As your eyes scanned for life, they landed on Dante. With a towel around his waist and another making a feudal attempt to dry his hair. A little surprised, you hopped up on the bar stool.  “You know Dante, this is your business office too, not just your house.”  “You’re the one who decided to show up at 7 in the morning.” Dante’s voice was still groggy, but that never stopped him from bickering. Rolling your eyes, accepting your defeat, this time. You set your jacket and helmet down on the counter making your way to Dante’s desk, trying not to trip over random objects and trash that littered the floor. How does he live like this? You sigh as you pick up the piles of paper that were not so neatly set on the ground. Dante better pay you well for having to put up with this level of disorganization. 

The first couple hours of your day consisted of organizing which papers were what. You’d assume they would end up sent to collections, after all, the charges were just sitting here for god knows how long. Then again, that never stopped Dante. A pair of footsteps descended the stairs. Almost in perfect timing, Lady barged in the door.  “Why didn’t you tell me (Name) was gonna be here?” Lady took great offense, after all, you maybe saw her once a week or every other week. Dante shrugged, “Dunno, forgot I guess.” “Jerk.” Lady leaned against the desk, looking over at all the papers you had scattered about on the wooden surface. Her head tilted trying to read the papers, the text was upside down to her.  “You got her to do your paperwork? Did he blackmail you?” Lady leaned over to observe you, no amount of money could get her to do his paperwork either. But you aren’t like her, not nearly as badass.  “No, I willingly accepted this offer. I need to start looking for jobs anyway.” A sigh left your mouth, it became a habit whenever you admitted you were broke as shit. Lady stood back up with a hand on her hip. Still skeptical, her eyes scanned your face. As if Dante stuck a device to you that controlled your every move, like in the cheesy sci-fi movies.  “I’m not forcing her, though blackmail’s not a bad idea.” Dante scratched his scruff on his face, a smile lightly tugged on his lips.  “Dante.” You warned him, staring at him, solidifying your warning. “You know I wouldn’t do that.” Dante crossed his arms over his chest. “Let's go, Dante, I gotta make our score even.” Lady tugged her weapon’s leather strap over her shoulder. A smile spread across her face, you suppose they always had the competition. Hearing about young Dante was always interesting when Lady graced you with stories.  “Bye!” Lady waved at you, running out of the door before Dante, as he quickly followed suit. Not without a nod and a smile in your direction. A silent goodbye.

Another few hours drag by. Going through a section of papers, looking at the clock in between. What felt like 45 minutes in reality was only 10 minutes. Now was when you took your unpaid break. You walked over to the white fridge, the jukebox adjacent to it lightly illuminated the surrounding area. The fridge was surprisingly clean, maybe just because there was barely anything in it. A pizza box of course was put into the fridge, classic Dante. There was a carton of milk and a few random take-out boxes. Before completely abandoning ship, you moved things around a little to find a box of strawberries. Picking it up, you eyed it suspiciously, checking for mold. At first glance, they seemed okay. Washing them in the sink, you were still cautious of them, after all, they were in Dante’s fridge. 

Back at the desk, you snagged a recent newspaper, unfolding it in your lap, you took a bite of a strawberry. Better start looking for job ads. Idly eating the strawberries that luckily were still edible, you bounced your leg. Most of the job listings seemed pretty boring, or simply too much work for what they were likely offering to pay. Plus it’s far too late in your life to pick up devil hunting like Lady, so a boring salary job it is. Flipping the yellowing paper, you scanned the other side. The shop was quiet, besides the muffled sounds of people walking by outside or an especially loud car. You filled the silence by humming the rhythm of a song.

“Dante did not tell me he hired someone.” A voice from around the corner spoke, nearly making you jump out of your seat. You had completely assumed you were there alone when Dante and Lady left. You looked over your shoulder to see Vergil standing there. Vergil. The conversation you had with Nero did not leave your mind so easily, you are sure your expression had turned a bit sour. 

“Apparently not.” You turned back around in the chair, resuming what you were doing. You would rather not discuss your utter hatred for him and what he did to Nero. You try not to completely despise him, it is difficult not to, having the experiences you do. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him sit on the red couch against the wall, pulling out a book. Your eyes returned to your paper.  A few silent minutes passed, no longer feeling like you were allowed to make a peep in his presence. What was it? You suppose Dante was quite strange like that when you first met him. Though oppositely, brimming with strength but rather using it to make himself look flashy. This was more of a suppressive strength. Anyone in his presence should think lower of themselves just to lift him higher.

The rotary phone on the desk rang as it lightly vibrated the desk. You picked up the phone, putting it to your ear.  “Devil May Cry.” You tried to imitate Dante’s voice when he said it. Your words did not come out as effortlessly as his does. ��Hey, office girl,” Kane spoke through the phone. A smile tugged at your lips, a little giddy from the compliment. “Not for long.” Letting out a small laugh through an exhale.  “Oh really?”  “It’s just temporary, I’m looking for other jobs right now.” You glanced at the newspaper, your pen marks littered the paper. “Maybe I’ll still get to call you office girl. Maybe a secretary.” You could hear his smile through the phone, silly man. You chuckled at his comment, “Whatever your sick fantasies desire.”  “I was calling to formally ask you out on a date, I would’ve called sooner but you know how life gets.”  Your finger twirled around the phone wire while you listened to him. “So you are a gentleman after all.”  Kane’s laughter seeped through the phone, as you couldn’t help but smile a little. “What about tonight then? When do you get off?” Kane asked, and you thought, when the hell do I get off? “I’m not sure actually, probably 5 at the latest.”  “What about 6 then, it’s not formal, so don’t worry about that.” Kane soothed your worries before it even crossed your mind.  “That works for me, I’ll give you the shop's address.” 

The conversation ended after you handed over the information. Now you sat at Dante’s desk with a giddy smile. But, you have to get back to work, or… you could slack a little. A sharp snap of a book being closed pulled your attention to where Vergil sat. He stood, still with the thin book in his grasp. He is such an odd man, but you still see his blackened heart through his exterior. His steps were almost eerily silent as he made his way to the front door, his head turned to look at you from the corner of his eye.  “Do not trust that man.” His words were sharp, but what confused you more was… why? And before you could even defend Kane or yourself that you’re a grown woman and you can make your own decisions, he left. The bad taste that the encounter left in your mouth refused to go away for the rest of your shift. 

The roads were lit with a warm glow of the streetlights, the architecture of Red Grave was always so beautiful. Not nearly as impressive as Fortuna, especially the building the Order once resided in was a sight to be seen. The faded white lines on the pavement passed by you with each dash mark. You hadn’t spoken a word to Kane since you both got into the car. The silence was not suffocating, it was pleasant. It’s been a while since you’ve been able to relax, the radio played quietly, some music you didn’t know but it coaxed you into closing your eyes. Your date with Kane went very well, thinking about it made you smile. His easygoing personality was nice, though unfortunately, Vergil’s warning made you think about what details you shared with Kane. You have no history with Vergil, and you have no idea if his judgment is sound, but it still affected you. And that irked you more. However you started to get lost in your thoughts, and eventually, you did fall asleep, hand holding up your cheek as your elbow rested on the car door.

“Hey, we're here.” Your body jolted awake as you surveyed your surroundings, you were still in Kane’s car. You turned to look at him, and he looked a bit surprised that you were woken so easily. Your body once tense, relaxed. You leaned back against the leather seats of his car, whispering an apology under your breath. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to take you back to Fortuna, but even then I didn’t know where you were staying so-” “It’s okay, thank you.” You interrupted his rambling, and a slight red color rose to his cheeks. His dark blue shirt matched his tan skin, his collarbone peaked out of the neckline. A few strands of his dark hair fell out of the bun he had put it in. You silently wondered what his hair would look like down, the thought made your body pull itself closer to him. His breath fanned over your face as he remained motionless, his eyes were half-lidded, analyzing the curves of your face. You caught yourself doing the same. Leaning over the center console of his car, which was an awkward position for your body, it was all worth it when his lips clashed with yours. It was slow, your hand held onto his forearm as your other played with the baby hairs on the back of his neck. You slowly opened your eyes to take a peek at his face, you wondered if his eyes were squeezed shut or if he had color on his cheeks once again. Instead, you were met by brown eyes looking at your own, his eyelashes cast a shadow over his irises, though this close you could see a ring of orange within the deep brown. Trying to summon your ‘nothing phases me’ facade, was a miserable failure. Your cheeks heat up like a pouring lighter fluid on a raging bonfire, you break away from his lips, trying to hide your face but you are only met with a laugh from Kane. “Shut it.” Once again your tough guy act was not very convincing as you tried to look at him with a stern face but he was met with a different expression. Trying to fight a war with your smile that you didn’t actually want to win, though you would appreciate it if your entire face didn’t feel like it was gonna explode. This only caused Kane to laugh more.

And you were left with no other option but to tug on the collar of his shirt, clashing your lips together in an embarrassing attempt to free yourself from your current position. And your solution did work, as his hands managed to find purchase on your back. The kiss was not as soft as earlier, but you did not dare open your eyes. Instead, through your closed eyelids, the dark lighting inside his car was lit up like the sun suddenly appeared right next to you. Both you and Kane froze, as you struggled to look out the windshield. As your eyes adjusted, you recognized the front of the vehicle that rudely interrupted your activities with Kane. But then annoyance morphed into horror as you realized who was in the driver's seat of that van, Nico. And who was next to her in the passenger seat? Nero. And once again, you fear your face showed your embarrassment. Kane's hands still clung to you as you slowly slipped out of his grip. And even worse, a figure stood outside of the van, Dante. This embarrassment has you praying to whatever god exists. Kane only recognized Dante, he was not so sure why you were so embarrassed, but he relaxed back into his seat as he watched Nico unfold into laughter, which could be heard through the closed windows of Kane’s car. 

You quickly got out of Kane's car, almost stomping over to Nico’s van door. You opened the door with such vigor you could care less if it flew off the hinges. “You shut up!” You pointed a finger at her, through laughs she could barely even speak. “You two love birds!” Then she kept hysterically laughing, but behind her in the passenger seat, Nero just awkwardly smiled. God, this was awful. Kane snuck up behind you as he tapped your waist with his hand, and he looked like he was about to burst out laughing too when he looked at your reddened face.  “You gonna have to apologize to Nero for traumatizing him like that-” “He’s 26!” Yes, Nero was very close to a younger brother to you, but he was an adult! He had a girlfriend and practically kids too, but it just made you boil with unbridled embarrassment. Kane stood next to you, he pulled you close by your forearm. Which surprised you but Nico got out of her car, fanning her face like she was the one who had just been making out with a guy, with an unexpected audience. 

You threatened Nico about 20 more times within the span of a couple of minutes, Nero had since joined the four of you on the sidewalk. Kane had to hold you in place or else you’d run away and hibernate for years. Finally, Nico stopped laughing like a hyena, you were able to ask her what they were doing out here. “We have an overnight job,” Nero answered. You nodded, Kane had since abandoned you to talk to Dante. You pray Dante isn’t sharing embarrassing stories about you, but you immediately knew he probably did just by looking at the stupid smirk that was plastered on his face. Silence came over the two of you before Nero spoke up again, “Is that the guy from the other night?” His words came out awkwardly, being able to stomach conversation about Kane you replied, “Yeah, his name is Kane.” “Right right.” Nero just fiddled with the hem of his worn-out shirt. “I’ll be careful Nero.” You told him, but you knew in that moment Vergil was somewhat right, you need to be careful. As much as you want to believe that Kane is a good guy, morally at least, he’s showed no signs of being anyone crazy. But, neither did you expect your previous boyfriends to be utterly insane. 

Nero seemed less tense after that, but the mood suddenly shifted when Vergil appeared from around the corner, you were the first to notice him. You couldn’t stand to look at him, especially with Nero right next to you. Kane had departed from the conversation with Dante and stood next to you, which you leaned on the side of the DMC van. Nico reappeared from the inside of the van, with somehow more grease on her, yet it had only been 10 minutes. And now it was a standstill, Vergil stood a few feet away from Nero, who was standing on the sidewalk. The air was thick, or at least just seeing Vergil next to Nero made you want to punch Vergil. Maybe it was because you couldn’t deny that Vergil was his father anymore when you looked at the two of them side by side and how similar they looked. Dante exchanged words with Vergil, which you didn’t catch as your focus was swayed to Kane. He squeezed your hand,  “I’m gonna go, you have somewhere to stay here right? I don’t want you driving to Fortuna this late.” You smiled, how sweet of him. “No, I’m okay.” You softly spoke as you could hear the conversation behind you between Dante and Vergil.  Kane hummed as he quickly kissed your cheek, which just reminded you of your embarrassment from less than 15 minutes ago, but not nearly as bad. His hand gave your hand one last squeeze before getting in his car. 

Luckily after you watched Kane drive off into the horizon till his car became a little blip in your vision, it wasn’t silent. You had enough of awkward encounters today, and probably for the next year too.  “We’re gonna leave, (Name),” Nero mentioned as he was about to climb back into the van, you nodded, giving him a quick hug, and you spoke over his shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Nero only nodded before Nico stuck her head out the driver’s window,  “Him? Stupid? That's all he knows.” Nico spoke while chewing a stick of gum, Nero glared at her, which spurred her on even more. You only let out a breathy laugh, watching Nero get into the van. Dante and Vergil stood closer to the shop, Vergil’s body was straight, and well thought out like his doctor told him he needed to watch his posture. Though you presume he doesn’t even have a doctor– do half-devils have a doctor…? You pushed your curiosity aside, maybe after a shot, you’ll ask Dante sometime.   “Practice caution, Nero.” Vergil’s voice had less of a demanding tone, though his words were similar to the warning he gave you earlier today. Nero nodded, you stared at Nero for a little too long trying to analyze his expression, searching for a reason to smack Vergil. For good measure of course.

Waving off Nico and Nero as she drove maybe a little too fast for that beat-up van. You turned back around to Dante and Vergil, which Vergil quickly retired to inside the doors below the ‘Devil May Cry’ neon sign. You stood in front of Dante, whose shadow covered you.  “Soooo, that was entertaining wasn’t it?”  Dante’s stupid smile, again. “Oh please, I already heard it from Nico.” You turned away from him, trying not to relive the sheer amount of embarrassment that memory would likely hold for a while. Dante chuckled as he put his hands on his hips, so sassy.  “Can I stay the night or are you gonna kick me to the curb to go drive an hour back to Fortuna.”  Dante let out a dramatic sigh, scratching his white stubble with one gloved hand.  “Kicking you to the curb would add to tonight’s entertainment.” You only smacked his shoulder before walking towards the front door. Dante stopped you, pulling your arm as you stumbled closer to him.  “Vergil didn’t say anything weird to you, right? Before me and Lady left.” You bit your tongue, debating if you tell him or not, and you began questioning why you were holding back. To save Vergil from a lecture? You turned your head,  “He just overheard me talking to Kane on the phone and said something like, ‘Be careful’. It wasn’t anything.” You tried to play it off the best you could, because frankly, you didn’t want to start doubting Kane, you would not listen or even consider Vergil’s words. Only your own, and you’ve had plenty enough experiences to guide you to the right decision. You had a hard time looking at Dante right now, his face was oddly serious, his skin lit up by the neon sign.  “Just… Let me know if anything happens.”  “I will.”

You vowed as you both walked in the door in silence. Your piles of organized paper still sat on top of Dante’s desk, the lamp illuminated the otherwise dark room. You sat down on the couch, stretching your arms over your head, letting out a silent yawn. Dante sat down in his chair, moving papers so he could put his feet up on his desk. Thankfully he did not disturb your organization too much. “You can take my room,” Dante spoke as he found another magazine to flip through, how does he not get tired of those?  “You sure? I’m scared I’ll get devil coodies if I sleep up there.” You stood up from the couch. “I can still kick you to the curb, you know.” Dante looked up from his magazine, you knew he was joking, thankfully. “Fine, you don’t have devil coodies.” Dante let out a chuckle, his eyes quickly going back to the contents of the paper in front of him. “Goodnight.” You spoke as you went up the stairs, which creaked under your weight. “Night.” 

As always, thank you for reading! -onyxroses

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[spectrechosts]

Misc. Short Magical Girl Stories

On Cohost there was a prompt account for stories about magical girls. Here are some short responses I made to that account, centering on a team themed after... well, it's up for debate.

PROMPT: Magical Girl Who Is Very Confidently Wrong

"Pick a different name."

"Fuck you." Said Sparkle Warrior Pluto.

"We're named after PLANETS-"

"IT'S A PLANET TO ME."

"THAT ISN'T HOW IT WORKS YOU CAN'T JUST DECIDE WHAT IS AND ISN'T A PLANET."

"AND NEIL DEGRASSE TYSON CAN?"

"YES! THAT'S HIS JOB!"

"FUCK HIS JOB!"

"IT'S A TRANS-NEPTUNIAN OBJECT!"

"YOU'RE A TRANS-NEPTUNIAN OBJECT!"

"I'm a trans-neptunian object." Said Sparkle Warrior Neptune, and they had to pause the argument for a moment because like, nice.

~

PROMPT: Magical Guardian With An Unfortunate Source Of Power

"Sparkle Warrior Magical Barrage!"

"Sparkling Icy Blast!" Yelled Sparkle Warrior Pluto.

"Shining Solar Flare!" Cried Sparkle Warrior Sol.

"Glittering Intracranial Hemorrhage." Said Sparkle Warrior Erebus.

The three of them watched as the villain of the week slumped to the ground, blood trickling from his nose.

"Okay Erebus, remember that talk we had? About appropriate uses of blood magic on a magical girl team?" Said Sol.

"Blood magic is only cute when used to heal people." Erebus answered, nodding solemnly.

"Correct! So, what happened here?"

"I am not cute. I am evil's bane."

~

PROMPT: Magical Girl Who Didn't Pay For Her Magical Item With Money, Exactly…

"Okay, putting aside for a moment that you went and bought a forbidden tome bound in human skin, which is again not appropriate magical girl behavior-"

"I don't know what you think the tome is for if not magic." Said Sparkle Warrior Erebus, absentmindedly leafing through the pages.

"Shush. Putting it aside." Said Sol, incredulous. "What, in god's green earth, do you mean you sold Neptune's soul for it."

"I asked first."

"It's true, I said she could." Said Neptune.

Sol buried her head in her hands.

"Why?"

"Ehh, I don't believe in all that. Souls and the afterlife and whatnot."

"YOUR POWERS COME FROM YOUR SOUL GEM!"

"Yeah, they still work fine. 's just a name, isn't it?"

"How can you just not believe souls are real you exchanged yours for goods."

"Yeah, I feel like we got a really good deal all things considered."

[unopenablebox]

got all ready to spend today writing 2-3k of fanfic and gaming out my fffx offers-- ate a nice meal, took a shower, assembled my primary source excerpts, put on my officially licensed lord of the rings yaoi t-shirt, went to a cafe to have a nice drink and write

unfortunately the people next to me at this cafe turn out to be having an incredibly acrimonious argument about the future direction of some kind of nonprofit group entirely through phrases like "please give me space to express my confusion"

which is so distracting even with earbuds that i'm having trouble making this lesbian disillusion this other lesbian about politics