#trendy glasses on earth

[sashkacobracelets]

This beautiful 𝙀𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘽𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙩 is a breath of fresh air.🌱🌎   

https://sashkaco.com/collections/sashka-original-bracelets/products/sashka-earth-bracelet-p8j

[whoremccall]

Uncovered - Contemporary Deck

[its-all-or-nothing94]

One Night // Tom Glynn-Carney x f!Reader

Summary: Where reader goes out with her friends and meets this charming, sweet (and so fucking) hot guy in a club.

A/N: This is the first fic I have published based on a real person. I don't know Tom, this is just puuuure fiction, thank you very much! It's actually just a short little One-Shot :)

Ship: Tom Glynn-Carney x Reader

Warnings: Language (is it tho?), mentions of having sex, use of alcohol, One Night Stand

You have always thought of yourself as a pretty ordinary person. You had a decent job, a decent apartment, and a group of friends that you could count on for a good time. So when your best friend, Emily, suggested you go out to a trendy new club in London, you thought, why not?

The club was packed, the music loud enough to make you feel it in your chest. You weren't usually one for these kinds of places, preferring a quiet pub or a cozy night in with a book. But tonight, something felt different. You wanted to let loose, to forget about the mundane for just one night.

After a few drinks and a lot of dancing, you found yourself at the bar, slightly tipsy and in need of a break. That’s when you noticed him. A man standing beside you, ordering a drink with an easy confidence. He had a rugged charm about him, with tousled blonde hair and an intense gaze that seemed to see right through you.

“Having a good time?” he asked, his voice smooth and inviting.

“Yeah, better than I expected,” you replied with a smile. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Tom,” he said, extending a hand. You shook it, feeling a strange spark at the touch.

You chatted for a while and you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. He was funny, down-to-earth, and didn’t seem to have any of the pretentiousness you often encountered in these places. He didn’t mention his job, and you didn’t ask. You talked about music, movies, and travel – all the things that made life interesting.

Your laughter mingled with the thumping bass of the music, your body moving freely to the rhythm. Tom's eyes, a striking shade of blue, sparkled under the dim club lights as he leaned in closer. Your conversation flowed effortlessly, a seamless exchange of stories and laughter that felt strangely intimate for two people who had just met.

Before you knew it, the night had flown by, and the club was starting to thin out. Tom glanced around, then leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Do you want to go somewhere quieter? Maybe talk without shouting over the music?"

You hesitated for a brief moment, then nodded. There was something about Tom that made you want to throw caution to the wind, to embrace this rare sense of spontaneity. "Sure, why not?"

You walked through the bustling streets of London, the cool night air a refreshing contrast to the heat of the club. Tom hailed a cab, and you slid into the back seat, a comfortable silence settling between you. The ride was short, and soon, you stood in front of a sleek, modern apartment building. Tom unlocked the door and gestured for you to enter.

You stepped inside, taking in the stylish decor. The apartment was a perfect blend of modern chic and cozy comfort, with clean lines, soft lighting, and personal touches that hinted at Tom’s personality. He led you to the living room, where a leather sofa dominated the space, flanked by bookshelves filled with an eclectic mix of literature and knick-knacks.

"Make yourself comfortable," Tom said, heading to the open-plan kitchen. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Surprise me," you replied, sinking into the plush cushions of the sofa. You watched as Tom expertly mixed two drinks, his movements confident and precise. He handed you a glass, your fingers brushing briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"To unexpected nights," Tom toasted, raising his glass.

"To unexpected nights," you echoed, clinking her glass against his while you were blushing slightly.

You sipped your drinks, the alcohol warming you from the inside out. The conversation picked up where it had left off, but now there was an added layer of intimacy. You sat close, your knees touching, voices low and hushed. Tom's gaze never left your face, his eyes tracing your features as if trying to memorize them.

The air between you grew charged, the unspoken tension crackling like static. You felt your pulse quicken, your breath coming in shallow bursts. Tom set his glass down and leaned in, his hand gently cupping your cheek. He paused for a heartbeat, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, making your heartbeat quicken.

You melted into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you lost in the moment. The kiss deepened, your bodies pressed together, a hunger igniting between you.

Tom's hands roamed over your back, tracing the curve of your spine while your fingers tangled in his hair. You broke apart briefly, gasping for air, your foreheads resting together. "Are you sure about this?" Tom whispered, his voice husky with desire.

"More than sure," you replied breathlessly, your heart pounding in her chest.

What followed was a whirlwind of passion and desire. Clothes were shed hastily, discarded in a trail leading to the bedroom. You moved together with an urgency that bordered on desperation, your bodies finding a rhythm that felt both new and familiar. Tom's touch was gentle yet firm, his kisses searing a path across your skin. You felt more alive than you had in a long time, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

You finally fell asleep in each other’s arms, your bodies entwined, the city outside just a distant hum. The night had been a blur, but one thing was clear: it was a night neither of you would soon forget.

You woke up to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. You carefully slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake Tom. You dressed quietly, glancing back at him, a sense of something deeper stirring within you. You shook it off, knowing this was a one-night stand, nothing more.

You scribbled a quick note thanking him for a wonderful night and left it next to Tom before slipping out the door. The cool morning air hit your face as you stepped outside, swirling within you a mix of exhilaration, confusion, and a hint of sadness.

Back in the apartment, Tom woke up to find the note. He cursed softly under his breath, realizing he had forgotten to ask for your number. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the note in his hand, feeling a strange emptiness. For once, he had met someone who treated him like a normal person who didn’t care about his fame or his job. And now you were gone.

You walked through the quiet streets of London, replaying the events of the night in your mind. You knew it was just a fleeting moment, a brief escape from reality, but it was a night you would never forget, a night that made you feel truly alive.

As you reached your apartment, you couldn’t help but wonder what might have been. But you pushed the thought away, determined to hold onto the memory of a perfect night with no regrets. Life would go on, but you would always have that one night in London, with a man named Tom.

Later that morning, Tom found himself at their usual rehearsal spot, a grungy but cozy studio tucked away in East London. The rest of the Sleep Walking Animals were already there, casually tuning their instruments and chatting amongst themselves.

“Morning, mate,” Joe greeted Tom, plucking at his guitar strings.

“Morning,” Tom replied, his voice absent-minded.

Alex, noticing Tom’s distraction, smirked. “Someone’s got their head in the clouds. Or should I say, still in bed with that hot Y/H/C from last night?”

Tom shot him a look. “Shut it, Alex.”

“Oh, come on, Tommy boy,” Bill chimed in, drumming a rhythm on the edge of a table. “You looked proper smitten when you left the club. She must’ve been something special.”

“She was,” Tom admitted, slumping down onto a battered old couch. “But she buggered off before I could even ask for her number.”

“Savage,” Jack said, shaking his head. “Didn’t even leave a name or nothing?”

“She did,” Tom replied, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N. That’s all I got.”

“Y/N,” Nuwan mused, his fingers dancing over the keys absentmindedly. “Could be anyone, mate.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Tom muttered, frustration evident in his tone. “It’s just... I dunno, she was different. Didn’t give a fuck about who I am or what I do. Just treated me like a normal person.”

“Well, you are a normal person, mostly,” Joe teased. “Except when you’re whining about a girl like a lovesick puppy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tom said, but there was a hint of a smile.

“Can’t believe she just legged it,” Bill said, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “What, were you that bad in bed?”

The room erupted in laughter, and Tom threw a cushion at Bill. “Piss off, Caple. It was great, thank you very much.”

Alex leaned over, grinning. “So, did you shag or not?”

Tom rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, we did. And it was... it was amazing.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it bad, mate,” Jack said, strumming a chord on his bass. “Bet you wish you could find her again.”

“Yeah,” Tom admitted, his voice softer now. “I really do.”

The guys exchanged looks, the teasing dropping away for a moment.

“Look, mate,” Joe said, more seriously. “We’ve got a gig tonight. Maybe you’ll meet someone else who’s just as cool. Don’t get too hung up on one girl.”

Tom nodded, knowing Joe was right but still feeling the pang of regret. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Nuwan started playing a familiar tune on the keys, and the rest of the band gradually joined in. The music filled the room, and for a while, Tom let it carry him away, the notes and rhythms a welcome distraction from thoughts of you.

But even as they played, your face lingered in his mind, a reminder of a night that felt all too fleeting and a connection that was painfully out of reach.

You sat with your friends at your favorite coffee shop, a cozy little place with mismatched furniture and a laid-back vibe. Emily, Sarah, and Jess were all there, sipping on their drinks and catching up on the latest gossip. You knew it was only a matter of time before the conversation turned to you.

“So, Y/N,” Jess started with a sly grin, “anything interesting happen last night? You disappeared from the club pretty quick.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Sarah echoed, her eyebrows raised. “Come on, spill it! Who was the guy?”

“His name’s Tom,” you said, trying to sound casual. “We met at the bar, hit it off, and... well, I went back to his place.”

“Oh my God, Y/N!” Emily exclaimed, nearly spilling her latte. “You had a one-night stand? With a guy you just met?”

“Yeah, I did,” you admitted, unable to hide your smile. “And it was amazing.”

“Details, please,” Jess demanded, leaning in. “How was he? What was his place like?”

“He was... incredible,” you said, feeling the warmth of the memory. “Funny, down-to-earth, and not full of himself. His place was pretty stylish too, very him.”

“Sounds like a dream,” Sarah sighed. “And you didn't get his number?”

You shrugged. “No, I left early, and he was still asleep. I didn’t want to wake him. Besides, it was just a one-night thing.”

“Still,” Emily said, shaking her head, “you should’ve left your number or something. What if he wants to see you again?”

“I doubt it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “He probably doesn’t even remember my name.”

“You never know,” Jess said with a wink. “Maybe he’s thinking about you right now, regretting not getting your number.”

“Yeah, right,” you said, but a small part of you couldn’t help but hope Jess was right.

“Anyway,” Emily said, changing the subject, “my brother’s got tickets to this gig tonight. Some indie band. He asked me to come, and I thought it could be fun. You guys in?”

“Who’s the band?” Sarah asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Sleep Walking Animals,” Emily replied. “Ever heard of them?”

“Sounds vaguely familiar,” Jess said, shrugging. “Why not? I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Same here,” Sarah agreed. “Could be fun.”

“What about you, Y/N?” Emily asked. “Got any plans tonight?”

You shook her head. “Nope, nothing. I’m in.”

“Great!” Emily said, clapping her hands. “It’s a plan then. We’ll meet up at my place and head over together.”

As you finished your coffees and chatted about other things, you felt a strange sense of anticipation building inside you. You weren't sure why, but the thought of going to this gig excited you. Maybe it was just the idea of a night out with your friends, or maybe, somewhere deep down, you hoped for something more.

[o-sachi]

White Hair, White Sand - Drabble for WinBre Week!

ᯓ my dream when I grow up is to live in a house by the beach... with you ᯓ character; togame jo (wind breaker) ᯓ tags; aged up ('cuz GROWING OLD AND IN LOVE DOES THINGS TO ME), fluffy but a bit angsty, sfw, afab reader, no y/n

[🐟]: for day 3 - beach prompt! @windbreakerweek

Never in a million years would you have ever thought that your life would come to this—waking up everyday to the sound of the waves crashing softly against the shore and the scent of salt air permeating your nose.

When you were younger, you told him you'd follow him to the ends of the Earth. You didn't think that meant a idle coastal town in the tropics. Either way, it was a pleasant surprise.

What isn't a pleasant surprise was waking up without him by your side. Well, he must've gone out early to the shore—picking up seashells for you or tending to his prized boats.

You shuffle out of your small house, adjusting your eyes to the rays of the morning sun. Sure enough, he was already hard at work, pulling out his green boat from out the salty water.

He was still as strong as the day you met him—at least that's what you told him. Of course, age was catching up to the both of you. But that didn't mean you had to spoil the fun.

Upon seeing you, a smile appears on his face. Kame waves at you from afar. You remember he used to wear a trendy pair of orange glasses. However, now, he wears glasses by prescription. His vision wasn't as good as it used to be. But when it came to you, he'd spot you from a mile away.

You trudge your way over to him. It didn't matter if the hot sand scorched your feet—you had grown used to that as well.

"You're up early."

He casts his gaze over at the horizon, a sight he could never get tired of. "Eh... you know how it is when you get old. You start waking up earlier and earlier."

You giggle. "You could've woken me up. I would have kept you company."

"How could I? You looked so peaceful," he retorts. "Besides, if I did... I wouldn't have gotten you a surprise."

Before you could even ask, he already held out his hand. His hand that you had held more times than you could imagine. In his grasp was a beautiful white shell. Specks of sand were in its nooks and crannies, but it was of spectacular shape.

Kame liked going out to find you these shells. They're the type that when you hold it against your ear—the wind should blow and it'll make a nice calming sound.

Once he hands you a shell, he expects you to hold it against your ear and tell him what sound you just heard. Although... as time went on, the howling of wind barely made any sound with the shell. It wasn't because the quality of shells on your beach were deteriorating—it's just that your hearing wasn't as good as it used to be.

But you tell him white lies; you tell Kame how soothing and wonderful the sound that the shell makes.

There were times you'd reminisce about your youth together—how incredible it was. Then, you'd tear up at the thought. He would feel a pang of sadness too, but he keeps a strong front and offers his shoulder instead.

Thankfully, this morning wasn't one of those days. Oddly enough, you felt satisfied with your life. It was slow—mostly uneventful—but you spent those days with the person you loved the most. And you'll always be thankful for it, even as the years pass and as both of your hair start looking like the white sand that covered the vast expanse of the shore.

As you continued to hold the shell against your ear, he softly whispered, "I love you."

And you thank the heavens that at least your ears could still hear those words.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[sobfultoast]

Hi! It's me who sent the request a few hours ago. Everyone makes mistakes and it's completely fine that you accidentally deleted it. My bad for being anonymous. 😅

Can I request the brother's reactions to MC who smokes/vapes?

Btw I really love your work!

THANK YOU!

•°~◇ Smoking ◇~°•

Prompt: Here are the demons' opinions on smoking/vaping, do they smoke/vape and their reactions to an MC who smokes/vapes.

+ Them supporting an MC who wants to quit.

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor.

A lot of demons smoke as it doesn't hurt them. It's more of a treat to them; a pack of 20 is the same price as a chocolate bar. Demons can get addicted to it, though, as it is shown demons can get addictions (Example being Mammon's addiction to gambling).

Vapes are a new trend in devildom and are ridiculously pricey. So, lots of demons stick to smoking rather than vaping unless they want to be trendy. Good luck buying a vape in devildom. They're like £60 for a standard vape.

As soon as you came to devildom, Lucifer made the house rule that none of the brothers could smoke/vape in the house. They were not happy.

(CW: Smoking, obviously; mention of health issues; Overprotective and worried demons; Addictions)

• ° ~ ◇ ~ ° •

Lucifer

Lucifer hates the fact that he smokes. He started smoking just after his fall. He and some noble demons were attending one of Diavolo's dinners. Everyone else was smoking. It was a sign of richness and luxury back years ago on earth, and that also translated to Devildom as well. Lucifer's felt pressured to also try them and has been hooked ever since.

He has to deal with 6 trouble magnets that he calls his brothers (7 trouble magnets if including you). Smoking helps relieve the stress of managing that. He is like that type of mum who has a glass of wine in his left hand and a cigarette in the other.

Lucifer isn't interested in vapes. It's nothing more than a trend that will pass eventually to him.

If you do try and hide the fact you smoke or vape, good luck. You can't hide it from him. He'll find out quickly, almost as soon as you arrive. Lucifer has weekly room inspections, and he'll sniff your hidden stash out like a blood hound.

Because he'll find out so early, he isn't really emotionally attached to you yet. All he does is go: "Tch... Not in the house." If his brothers find out the human smokes/vapes, they'll get all annoyed about why they have to go outside to smoke now. So, to at least make it fair, the same rule applies to you.

After a year, he regrets that reaction of his. He knows the risks it has to humans. It's why he made all his brothers go outside. He doesn't like knowing you're constantly at risk of health issues every time you take a puff.

He's worried. Unlike you, smoking doesn't harm him. Lucifer will be relieved if you say you want to quit. He decides he'll quit with you so you can support one another. You don't even have to ask him. Lucifer just wants to make sure you live a long life with him.

Mammon

Mammon smokes often. His go to is cigarettes and also cigars. Mammon is too broke to buy Vapes in devildom, so if you ever see him with one, it's most likely stolen. Probably from Asmodeus. He was in shock when he went to the human world and saw how expensive smoking is. £16 for a pack of just 20! What a rip-off! Grrr...

He had no clue that nicotine harms humans. So when Lucifer made a rule to not smoke in the house, he didn't understand. Mammon was not happy, so he tried sneaking around Lucifer. He was always caught.

Hiding it from Mammon is also very hard but not impossible. Your room is his room, and he has gone through "his" whole room a million times. He'll find it if you hide it in your room so if you hide it outside of your room, there is less of a chance. If he does find it, he won't confront you about it. He doesn't know it hurts humans. He just takes them for himself.

Mammon is always stealing his brothers' cigarettes and vapes, so he is also definitely stealing yours. The only difference between you and his brothers is that he'll actually share his cigs with you. Until he finds out about the dangers.

Smoking can be deadly to humans? And my human is smoking them?! Mammon is overprotective of you so of course he is against you using them! Mammon will pester you to stop it. He'll even help you himself by smoking yours before you! So heroic.

If you say you want to quit, he is very happy with your choice. He'll try and avoid anyone smoking around you, and Mammon never hesitates to praise you for your progress.

Will he quit with you? He'll try. He'll have a lot of hic ups. Temptation is everywhere in hell, especially for an impulsive demon like himself, but if it means he can support and help you? He'll try his damn best.

Leviathan

Leviathan doesn't smoke often. Levi only smokes when on the ships as everyone else is often doing it, and it relaxes him when surrounded by people. You can also find him smoking if his phone or handheld device dies when in public.

Levi doesn't vape, even if he seems like a type of person who would. They're just so pricy and such a normie trend in his eyes. He'd rather save up for merch.

He used to smoke a lot more in the past. There were a few times where he'd boxed himself in his room and went through a whole pack of cigs. When Lucifer opened the door, it was just 💨. Levi only did that because he had a social event coming up that he couldn't avoid but even with his anxieties, Levi soon decided to stop smoking in his room. It started to damage his merch! And because he is always in his room, he rarely smokes now.

Leviathan does know that smoking harms humans. When he found out one of his favourite human idols smokes, he was sending them spam letters to stop. What if your voice drops?! What if you get sick?! He was basically begging them.

Despite that, he does think it looks sorta cool in fiction. Like in those anime scenes where the badass character is smoking in the corner, looking super menacing. It's so edgy of them.

He probably won't find out you smoke/vape unless you deliberately do it around him. Since he is always in his room and there is no smoking/vaping in the house, he probably will never catch you if you hide it.

When he does find out, he is conflicted. He thinks you look sorta cool and totally understands if you're doing it to calm yourself. But, then again, he knows it hurts you! Levi doesn't really know how to respond so he just won't confront you about it nor bring up the idea of quitting. He doesn't want you to get mad or annoyed at him for whatever reason he can think of.

Levi will ask Satan for advice and does support you all the way if you do want to quit. He'll always keep his attention on your behaviour and will give you lots of praise and encouragement! Just look how far you got! He's so proud of you. It's okay to have setbacks, we all have them!

Satan

Satan smoked on the rare occasion. Satan never smoked in the house as well. He knew it was damaged and stains books, so he always went outside if he ever did. But when a certain someone made a rule to not smoke in house, he might have started purposely smoking around the house. Out of pure spite.

Satan stopped smoking around the house after the body swapped situation. He became so much less hateful towards Lucifer after that, and also so much closer towards you. Satan now avoids smoking around you and has always avoided doing it around cats. He knows what second hand smoke does to mortal creatures.

Satan is also another brother you can't hide it from. Satan is basically a certified detective. He'll catch on.

Satan won't pressure you to stop. He knows people smoke for all sorts of reasons. From addiction to coping mechanisms, everyone has a reason, and he understands that it is sometimes complicated.

If you tell him you want to quit or start showing any signs that it is affecting your lungs, he will try to suggest alternatives. Such as a vape that has low nicotine density or nicotine patches. If you're just doing it for the motion like some, he'll show you some vapes that are just flavoured vapour. Satan does lots of research into it, so he suggests the best things to try. He wants to make sure you take the best steps in whatever you want to do. He'll be standing right by your side.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus hates smoking. It smells awful. It makes people look awful as it makes your skin look bad and stains your clothes. He hates it.

Vaping is a totally different thing to him, however. It smells and tastes nice. His favourites are the cherry flavoured ones, but he'll also use whatever is popular at the time.

Asmodeus is frustrated that he can't vape in his room. It's his room! He does sneak a puff with his window open, and unlike Mammon, Asmodeus is rarely caught.

Asmodeus will find out if you smoke/vape from your scent alone. This man can tell you the name of the perfume or cologne you are using just from smell. If you've just smoked, he'll notice. He gives you his perfume. "Can't have you smelling so dreadful, darling! Here. Now you can smell as good as me!"

Asmo won't point out the vape smell as it smells better than tobacco. If it is one of his favourites, however, he'll definitely point it out. You guys have so much in common! He loves that one too!

Asmodeus does know smoking is a risk to humans but he just didn't care. It didn't concern him... Until he fell for you. Now it kinda does.

Out of the brothers, Asmodeus is probably one of the calmer ones if you vape. You both end up having a box of vapes that you hide from Mammon. Asmodeus wouldn't like it if you smoked though. Asmo really does hate the smell of them. Please avoid smoking around him. He gets enough of it from the clubs in his opinion.

Asmodeus is with you every step of the way if you quit. He'll keep his stash as hidden as he can from you and maybe even slowly stop using them as much himself. He pampers you and helps distract you from your addiction. Asmodeus is your biggest cheerleader throughout your journey!

Beelzebub

Beelzebub is the only brother to not smoke or vape. Even if he tried, he'll just end up eating it anyway... They do not taste good.

He thinks vapes smell tasty. Why are they always based as food? They get him drooling. He has eaten one of Asmodeus' vapes. Again, they don't taste good. It's a false advertisement.

It can be easy to hide it from beel. I don't see him picking up on it unless you have started dying after every run, but again, you could tell him it's just a human thing and he'll trust what you're saying.

Beelzebub does know it harms humans because of his body building classes. He has given some humans advice there and learnt that smoking damages your lungs from these said humans.

Beelzebub then began asking Belphie to avoid smoking around you. Beel didn't want you to get hurt at all. Just to find out you smoke/vape yourself. Why??? He just doesn't understand.

Beelzebub does ask questions why and still struggles, understanding why'd you do something that harms your fragile human body...

He will show distaste for it when he sees you doing it. Every time you take a puff around him, he looks like a kicked puppy. Beel doesn't like knowing you are hurting yourself.

If you decide to quit, he is very enthusiastic about that idea. He'll get you foods to distract yourself. He heard sunflower seeds and gum are food a lot of ex-smokers use as a distraction. Beel will also ask all his brothers if they'd also like to quit alongside you. If not, could they just avoid smoking around you. Beel just wants you to be okay.

Belphegor

Belphie smokes. He picked it up as a distraction to cope after the fall and found comfort in it.

Belphegor doesn't know it harms humans despite his knowledge about humans. When he was interested in humankind, we didn't know anything about cancer and etc. After the fall, Belphie lost interest and just didn't learn.

Belphie didn't smoke at all in the attic. Belphie was going mad, especially with the nightmares of Lilith. He didn't have Beel or anything other than nap. As soon as he gets out, he'll smoke in the house. Lucifer scolds him for it but why should he care? He was trapped in the attic for months. He doesn't even hide it. He literally pulled out a cigarette at the dining table during family dinner.

Hiding it from him is easy. When he does find out, he is confused about why you would hide it from him though? Even when he learns about all the harmful consequences, he understands why someone would smoke/vape so why hide it from him.

He is probably the most chilled brother about it. You two watch the stars with the reassuring yet cold breeze as you share a lighter for your cigarettes.

Belphegor does also vape. They're convenient. He doesn't have to roll or light anything, which his lazy self appreciates.

If you wanna quit, of course he'll support you. You can't smoke if your stuck napping with him, right? Belphie doesn't like the idea of quitting. Then again, Belphie dislikes a lot of things but he'll always do them for you.

•°~◇ Have a good day! ◇~°•

I don't know if this is what you wanted??? But I tried. If you have any criticism, just say. I've never done a request but I hope this is what you wanted.

I know I've been gone for a little while but life. I'm back tho 💪

[athousandbyeol]

discussion #11 (only friends): is mew an outcast in the friend group? is it an intentional tactic by the directors/scriptwriters to make mew "less attractive"?

i think, from episode 1 to episode 3, we aren't seeing much of mew because it's intentional.

he's always at the furthest side of the shot, not really in the spotlight (except in scenes shared with top and close-up shots of himself alone). the clothes he wears aren't exactly trendy or fleshy. those glasses. he looks... boring. ordinary. nothing exciting about mew.

(i just have to put this picture because he's as precious as he can be <'3)

(well, hello there, mew.)

i think the directors and scriptwriters intentionally make mew look/feel like an outcast in this messy friend group so that we'll grow suspicious of him. mew is 'hidden' because he has yet unleashed the 'other side' of his. because i think we might have questions now; is he really all this? is that even possible?

side note: even p'force said mew is the flirty/cunning one in this relationship. he knows a lot of things, but i assume he chooses not to let people know because it isn't of importance to mew. he just wants to have fun sometimes and get that degree. that's all. but is that really it?

i see so many people are having strong opinions about mew, but saying mew is boring is where i believe this is somewhat true. i think many of only friends watchers took the bait— mew is so boring— they [topmew] aren't progressing anywhere— what are they even doing? it's so interesting to witness so much disparity when it comes to topmew. some like their story. some hate them. but as someone who enjoys every plotline in the drama, i can only say the six of them revolve around each other. the story won't progress if one character/a couple is pulled out from the circle. all of them are equally important. some relationships progress faster than the other. it's in sync with the build-up of the story (do refer freytag's pyramid to get a better idea of how a story is constructed), and the growth of the characters. they depend on each other. so, like it or not, the six of them co-exist. it can't be five people or only two pairs. it must be six and three pairs to make only friends work.

i regress.

moreover, i guess, p'jojo and p'ninew want us to implant this idea of mew in mind— just a normal person. i think, in that way, it creates tension, suspense and speculation. i think most of topmew enjoyers see this gradual growth of mew's character. as top has grown out of his confident persona little by little (mostly when he's with mew, top shows more of his vulnerable and child-like personality; the smile top gives mew during the silent disco scene was so pure and innocent. it made top look like a kid again; that lost kid in the fire), mew's other side of the coin is waiting to set sail. this excites me very much. because we clearly don't know who on earth mew is. and i'm taking this opportunity to applaud p'book again. he's doing a fantastic job as mew. kudos to him.

additionally, i have a question, don't you think it's a bit off that mew is friends with 1) ray, an alcoholic (i apologise if this term is degrading), 2) boston, a sexually-active person, and 3) chueam, the party-goer (i don't have anything negative to say about her, hehe). mew— a nerd, who likes partying but is still pretty much an average university student— how did he end up in this group? i just find it a bit weird. a bit out of place. he feels like an oddball in this friend group. it's like he doesn't belong here. and that itself is very intriguing.

i have a feeling mew's transformation will shock everyone, and he might be the core of everyone's heartbreak/headache (with nick being the second/main destroyer). i'm excited to see mewnick's revenge arc unfold because both of them will approach their battles differently; nick is going to be more emotionally driven, while mew is strategic and perhaps, heartless.

thus, i think the directors/scriptwriters have succeded in making us view mew as just... a person. nothing special. dull and one-dimensional. but this is just so thrilling to me as i believe (way before the series aired) mew is so much more than what we think he is, and i can't wait to see that mew. :)

//p.s. i don't know what this is honestly so i apologise for even writing this post...

[1 | 2 | 3 | 4 (i) | 4 (ii) | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12]

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Ten (Part 3)

We go to a trendy little bar with eclectic decor like clothing mannequins with lampshades for heads, and bowler hats hanging from the ceiling. In the beer garden there is a decommissioned Dublin Bus that’s been turned into a tiny pizza kitchen, the cooks dealing food out through a hole that’s been carved in the side. I smirk at Dean as we carry our drinks out into the yard and take a seat on a vintage leather couch. 

“You feel like a pizza?” I ask him, and he snorts. “Hardly. If you knew how many pizzas I eat in a week you’d get sick.”

“That’s Primo pizza though.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He leans back into the soft cushions and rests his ankle onto his knee. The places where he’s almost-but-not-quite in contact with me are alive with tingles like my skin is yearning for more of the touch he gave me earlier. I resist the urge to scoot any closer to him because despite the feelings my body is getting, I’m still slightly terrified of the prospect of anything actually happening between us. I convince myself that it would be bizarre and weird and that I wouldn’t ever want it. 

“I remember someone asked me before, if I could choose one food to eat every day for the rest of my life, what would it be?” He says. “And actually, I said pizza. Pizza was a big treat for me and I wanted it every single day.”

“Well, your wish came true.”

“Yeah, and it’s actually a bloody curse, it turns out.” 

I laugh. “Well you know you could just bring food from home.” This makes him look at me incredulously and he says “I’m hardly going to bring a packed lunch into work with me when there’s free food there.”

“Is that embarrassing? To have a packed lunch?”

He chuckles. “I suppose it isn’t, just the idea of doing it is weird.”

“So when you don’t want pizza, what do you do?”

“I smoke for my break.”

I snort. “Do you ever get tired of being edgy?”

He turns his body towards me, an amused look on his face. “You’re saying that you’d like, make sandwiches and put them in a lunchbox and bring them into work with you?”

“Yes!”

“And a little yoghurt and a Pink Lady apple and all?”

“Why is this so strange to you?” I laugh. “Didn’t you ever bring a packed lunch anywhere?”

“No.”

“What about in primary school?”

“No!” He insists. “I went to one of them schools for disadvantaged children. They give you all your meals there in school if there’s nobody at home who’s going to make them for you.”

“Oh.”

He leans across me to put his glass onto the table, which is actually a stack of old suitcases, beside me. “My ma works mad hours so she was never home to make meals. Did you not know I was povo?”

“You can’t say povo.”

“I can say povo. I was.”

“So you grew up…?”

“On the north side.”

“…In the flats?”

He snorts. “No. Not in the flats. We had a house. Have a house, obviously. My ma still lives there. It’s fine, everyone acts like it’s a shithole, but the people up there are real honest, salt of the earth kind of people. They work hard and they do their best with what they have.”

“I’ve never been very far north.” I admit. 

“Never gone to Ikea, no?”

“No.”

“Well that’s all there is, in fairness.”

“That can’t be all there is.” 

“Right, we have a mattress shop and a Tesco.”

“Sounds like it wasn’t the most lively place to grow up in.”

“No, I mean, it was alright like. It’s all I knew so it’s not like I was aware about what I was missing out on. We knew that somewhere down the south side there were other kids who had things that we didn’t, but back then, I dunno. You can’t really miss what you don’t have. It was fine.”

“Was it just you and your mother?”

“I have an older brother and a younger sister too.”

“Where was your dad?”

“Back then? Off. Somewhere. I don’t know, doing dodgy shit. Now he’s dead, so…” He trails off and gets this guarded look in his eye, hands fidgeting in his lap and I regret asking. 

“I’m sorry.” I say. 

“It’s grand.”

“When did he die?”

“July.”

“Oh, no. That must be really hard.”

He reaches over me again to grab his glass and he takes a long drink from it. “It’s not hard because he’s dead, it’s hard because of the will and all that legal shite.” He corrects himself: “Lack of a will. I wish we didn’t have to deal with it. His family…” He trails off and just shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

“What about you then? How fucked up is your family?”

“A little. Do you really want to trade sad stories?”

“No, I just wanted to talk about something else.” He readjusts himself on the couch again. I’ve noticed that he’s very fidgety, and it kind of makes it hard to relax around him. “What’s up with Marnie anyway?” He asks me. “You know why she acts like that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. She kind of has these intense moments sometimes.”

“Hm. It wasn’t anything to do with that stupid question Fiona asked me, you don’t think?”

“Why, you think she fancies you?”

“Hm. Dunno.” He shifts again and his knee presses into mine. It feels deliberate and I don’t move away from him. “I don’t think I’m exactly her type, do you?”

“She usually dates ugly nerds.” I say, and immediately regret my choice of words because it sounds so cruel and I never wanted to be one of those people, but a smile creeps over his face and he rests his arm along the back of the couch as his eyes watch my face carefully. “So you’re saying you don’t think I’m ugly?”

“I’m saying nothing. I’m being very neutral.” I declare, and then casually he brings his fingers to brush my hair away from my forehead. 

“You’re getting rid of the fringe.” He murmurs, his breath feathering over my cheek, and I’m fixed to the spot for a moment, staring intensely, directly into his eyes, which I notice are actually golden brown in the centre and ringed in bright green rather than a solid hazel colour.

“Yes.” I say. “It was annoying, it took so much work to make it look nice so I’ve been growing it out.”

“You look better without it.”

“I thought guys liked girls who had fringes. Doesn’t it make them more approachable?”

“You think you’re intimidating without?”

“No, I don’t think I’m ever intimidating, unfortunately.”

He seems to consider this. “Maybe not. You wish you were?”

“I wish I was an entirely different person with a completely different set of traits, honestly.” I blurt out, and it makes him laugh. “Like what?”

“One of the main ones being that I wish I was able to tell people what I really thought about them.”

“Who would you tell? Marnie I bet.”

“Yeah, sometimes.” 

“Who else?”

I sigh. “So many people, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I feel like I’ve never told anybody what I really feel about them. Ever. Do you think that’s pathetic?”

“What do you think about me?” 

A zing shoots up my body from where his leg is touching mine. “Well, I don’t know you very well. I couldn’t make a judgement.” 

“That’s a lie.” He says. “You made a hundred judgements of me before we even knew each other.”

“Well okay, I thought that you were arrogant and mean and full of yourself, and that you were purposefully trying to tear down my art to make yourself look better…”

“Right, nice. And now?”

“Now I… I suppose I think you’re alright. I came around.”

Slowly, he leans in towards me with his gaze fixed to mine and my entire belly erupts in butterflies. I lean backwards into the cushions of the sofa very aware of how easy it would be for him to kiss me…

But he doesn’t. He just puts his glass onto the table again, but I’m certain he can read my racing thoughts through my eyes, either that or hear the way that my heart is banging in my chest because his brow curls curiously when he passes back over again and leans back into his seat. 

There’s something about the way that he looks at me that isn’t like the way anybody else has ever done it. It’s like there’s something in his gaze… or missing from it perhaps. It’s so hard to put my finger on the strange, heightened feeling I get when I’m around him, something that makes my pulse quicken and the blood rush through my body, but it isn’t in the same way that I’m used to feeling around other people.

I clear my throat. “Well, what about me then? What did you think about me when you met me and what do you think about me now?” 

“When I saw you first I thought you were hot, and now, I still think you’re hot.” He sits back waiting to see what I think about that. 

“Thank you.” I say, beginning to fidget more and more now as he seems to become more still. “So did you really mean what you said back in that pub, that you’d choose me if you had to?”

“Yeah. Did you think I was lying?”

“Well yeah, I kind of assumed it was a wind-up.”

He rests his forehead on his fist. “Do you really not know that you’re good looking?”

“You’re not really meant to say whether you think you are or not.” 

“Why not?”

“‘Cause it’s arrogant.” 

“So you have to wait for someone else to tell you, is it?”

“Sure.”

“Well, you’re hot, so there.”

I blush, my palms are sweaty now and I clench them by my sides where I hope he won’t see them, and he does that thing again, the thing he did on New Year’s Eve, where he lets his eyes run down my body slowly and then back up again and some sort of explosion happens inside me. I know that he can see the way that my shoulders are moving with my breath, there’s no way that he can’t, my feelings are written all over me. 

He lets out this low laugh. “Do you want me to start kissing you now?” He asks me. 

I swallow. “Yeah.”

Slowly, he leans in close and closes the gap between us by catching my lower lip between his and eases me back into the soft couch cushions behind me. My breath shudders against his lips, and carefully I run my hands up his arms and interlace them around his neck. His breath warms my cheek as he presses me further into the cushion. He’s sweet, like the vodka tonics he’s been drinking all evening and I like the way that it tastes. My hands start to tangle in his hair as his hands slowly roam my body, down the sides of my ribs and my hips and resting there, and I’ve all but forgotten we’re in a public place until he draws away from me suddenly and the bar comes back into focus behind him. 

“Happy?” He says, and I nod.

“Good. Can I do it again?” 

“Uh huh.”

Then he slides a hand behind my neck and he does. 

Prev // Next

[zwy01]

Izar doodles!!!

Doodle compilation of my noblesse oc from my Millennium AU, Izar Siriana! After Zarga died without an heir, Izar was born from the air and earth of Lukedonia as the new Siriana heir. Izar is a massive astronomy & mathematics enthusiast, and a giant nerd in general lol.

For my entire nextgen lineup, please refer to my pinned post! Now onto the drawings…

1) Izar portrait!!!! I love painting my beloved nerd boi. His hair is messy because he almost never pays attention to it, and you can almost always find crumbs and… partially eaten snacks poking out from it. Ehhh. If you point it out to him he’ll just say ooh its a nice surprise, he can eat it later on, meanwhile it can keep sitting there haha so convenient amiright. (Plz dont) And… he’s always smiling. Happy boi. Probably thinking about building his 1628th telescope right now. Also his glasses are totally fake and he just wears them because he thinks they complete the “scientist” aesthetic. Humans sure are trendy aren’t they?

2) Izar is a HUGE junk food lover. Chips, cookies, soda, cheap powdery coffee, anything that’s junk by human standards really. Especially the coffee part. He drinks it not because he needs it but because human scientists do that. It’s fashionable!! If only he could get his hands on Luzia’s eyeshadow, he would’ve given himself dark eye circles lol. Anyways he’s always snacking on something, and shares his snacks with his extremely smart pet ferret & lab assistant Charles. Charles can understand everything he says and often fetches his stuff for him. ps Izar sometimes forgets to clean his hands especially his fingers after a snack session. Consequently his books and notes often have greasy fingerprints on then haha.

3) Izar is basically a neet but he does hang out with his friends sometimes!! He’s very good friends with Ludis’ daughter and the Mergas heir, Susanna. These two have a lot to bond over. Susa is also the one who supplies Izar’s massive, ever-growing pantry. For a super snack enthusiast like him, his snack-eating speed is actually inferior to Susa’s snack-supplying speed. Oh, what will he do without Susa haha. He always looks forward to deliveries from her household. Some random Mergas clan member tasked with delivery will be knocking on Izar’s lab and he’d be at the door in an instant. “Excuse me, Izar-nim? Susanna-nim asked me to deliver—” “YESYESYES IT’S ME!!!” And Susa, while she doesn’t entirely understand the topics to a complex level, loves to listen to Izar’s mini lessons on space and stars. They have great synergy lol.

4) just cute chibi Izar sitting on a planet lol. He loves everything space related. Precious boi and his hobby needs to be protected at all costs.

5) Izar has a massive crush on Jia. Jia has no interest in “meteor-whats” or those “fancy rocks” but she joke-promises Izar that she would help him collect these “rocks” and bring them to him if he can provide her with a satisfying spar. Girl just loves her exercise. Izar is a neet but his fighting skills are no joke so they spar, to both of their surprise Jia is happy and keeps her promise. Her bringing him meteorites makes his inner nerd explode with joy. Their casual back and forths with the spars and meteorite deliveries extends over the years and Izar falls for Jia. Jia really just loves to fight though. Izar hasn’t confessed his feelings yet, but if he does it’ll be a straight-on marriage proposal with a six pack soda. Ehhh maybe thats jumping too far ahead at once. If he does he should bring a grill lol, girl doesn’t like sweet stuff. Jia doesn’t know he likes her.

6) While Izar likes Jia, Kaelestis Blerster, son of Karias and Rael, likes Izar. Izar doesn’t know Kaekae likes him. It all started out when Kaekae became a regular at Izzy’s lab (the lab is always open to any guests he just almost never gets any lol) to get a breather from the uptight life he usually lives. Parenting Karias (yes, not the other way around) is always… sigh, difficult. In Izzy’s lab is where Kaekae truly feels at ease. Listing to Izzy ramble about space and formulas, snacking on junk, being handed plushies and toys… Kaekae feels like he’s being taken care of. It’s really refreshing. It’s his safe space, he finally found it; it was right there in Izzy’s lab all along. That’s how he falls for the giant nerd boi. He knows Izzy likes Jia, so he doesn’t confess his feelings… yet. Though he should. For right now, they’ll just be best friends… yep, that’s enough right…?

7. Susa is even more entertained once she finds out about her peers’ crushes. Oh ho their love lives are gonna be a ride. So entertaining. Meanwhile her brother and parents wonder why she’s snickering to herself. You won’t get it even if she explains, trust me.

[silverskull]

Evergreen

Chenford Week 2023

Day 2: TV Tropes Day

I spun the wheel, and this bitch is what I got, okay?

CW: Major Character Death

Full fic below the cut and also here, on AO3.

.

A caveat: I do not want or wish this to happen. I do not think this is reflective of our canon Tim (or at least, I hope not). However, I do want you to cry.

For backing music, I recommend ‘Kevin & Casey’ by West Dylan Thordsen from the ‘Glass’ soundtrack. Put it on…now.

.

Green was the colour of peace.

Peace. Wealth. Health. 

Life.

He loved her in green.

(He loved her in any colour, but especially in green.)

She’d worn a green belt around her wedding dress, and he hadn’t even noticed until Angela sidled up to him, champagne softened, and pointed it out. They’d shopped together for it, searched high and low to find exactly what she was looking for, checked every store from Rodeo Drive to the Santee Alley. It was Lyla who’d found the perfect piece of material, recycling thrifted garments into trendy fashion and disassembling an eighties bridesmaid dress into threads and ribbons.

She’d worn it in her hair the next day, weaving it through a braid that crowned her head - more exquisite than diamonds; queen of his heart.

He’d brought her fresh flowers, as often as he remembered, and she’d moved the vases from surface to surface, pointedly remarking how bright the colours were in the clean but sterile surrounds of his house. 

Of course he’d let her paint.

Anywhere she wanted, any colours she wished. Bright yellow and deep blue and forest green. Masking tape evolving into golden streaks of sunshine, splitting the colours into a rioting kaleidoscope on carefully chosen feature walls.

It quickly became ‘their house’.

Their home.

An extension for Tamara. A crate for their yoga mats. Little Buddhas and succulents and candles - candles everywhere. Tealights and pillars and votives; organic or scented or tapered or wood-wicked. He was forever chasing flickering flames, dutifully blowing out the sparks in hurried puffs before following her laughter into their bedroom.

Then, one day, there were no more flames.

A week - less - awash with unwanted candles and bouquets of flowers, and then…

Gone.

Forever.

He’d placed himself beside one tall candle (a year’s worth of wax in the normal run of things - more like a couple of months if she’d had access to it) and behind a small avalanche of wreaths, and he hadn’t moved for hours.

The mourners poured through the room like an endless river of despair. 

It was Nolan, of all people, that had kept him upright. Fending off the few sympathisers who tried to breach his floral barricade with an unassuming nod and a handshake, and guiding them past the casket and down the line of friends and family. Rounding the barrier and steadying his shoulder with a quiet hand when his breath started to shake or his body started to tilt. Passing him cups of water throughout the day without ever making eye-contact.

He didn’t remember the service.

Grey spoke for him. Genny too.

He never said a word.

What was there left to say?

The end of the world had come - the end of his world - and despite everything in his life up until that point, he still hadn’t been prepared.

The burial was burned into his mind, flashbulb moments in a misty cemetery.

A black-clad crowd, huddled together like a murder of crows.

The minister sheltered beneath a dark umbrella. 

One giant, gaping hole in the clay at his feet. Far too big. Far too long.

Her casket - bamboo woven and speckled with mushroom spores. Her choice. She would sink into the soil and it would embrace her, tenderly entwining her molecules with seeds and roots until she dissolved beyond her mortal limits and became one with the earth.

Beyond his reach.

Evergreen.

The others had taken turns staying over with him. With Tamara. She’d wept and wept in his arms, and he’d had nothing to say to console her. Bailey had taken the lead on finding something to send them to sleep, dosing them methodically and packing them off to bed. Instructions listed and left for whoever was to guard them the next night, and the next.

James played smooth hip-hop low on the living room speaker all night long.

Wesley read, a pile of thick books gathering in the corner beside Kojo’s bed.

Nyla had a games console, the whirrs and ticks of the sound effects punctuating the dark.

Genny brought the boys, all three camping out on the floor in front of the TV screen, her hands looped tenderly into the hair of one and the elbow of the other.

Angela sat in silence, staring into space. Occasionally lifting her phone and scrolling through her photos. Sniffing quietly into a tissue as the reels went on.

Nolan had eventually offered to take Kojo; given him the run of his spacious backyard.

Tamara had gathered her things and folded herself into the embrace of her friends, whittering and fluttering around her like a flock of protective doves as they packed her up and drove her back to college.

And he was alone.

He’d tried to go back to the station, managed three whole days of re-immersive Patrol before it was all too much.

She was everywhere, there.

Her coffee mug clinking in the breakroom. Her fingers clattering over keys in the bullpen. Her pen scratching on paper at the intake desk. Her keys rattling in the locks of the cells.

Her voice, her laughter, her breath, her scent all over his office and the briefing room and in every single god damn shop they offered him.

Pine had agreed to a transfer. ‘Compassionate grounds’. Offered him Hollywood, and when he’d baulked, swapped him out with a willing officer from Central Division.

It was busy there. Probably even more so than Mid-Wilshire. Train lines and homeless camps and tourist traps. Celebrities and low-lifes constantly shoulder to shoulder. He clocked up enough overtime to worry the Captain, and grimly pleaded his case when she’d suggested therapy instead. She’d given in and let him have his way.

Angela visited, routing her cases out of her grid to check in on him from time to time. He could see the calculating look in her eyes, her thoughts flashing back to his years after Isabel.

This was different, though.

He knew it, and she could see it too, and he knew it frightened her more than his past rage.

He was cold now. Removed. Closed-off and stiff and monosyllabic, at best.

Something in him sparked a new fear in his suspects, their defiance withering away at his silent stoicism. Arrests were quick and clean, for the most part, and he never engaged in verbal sparring or articulate arguments anymore.

His team respected him, but kept their distance. Greeted him in the mornings, saluted him at night. Offered perfunctory invitations to social gatherings that he would never attend.

His locker and office were grey. Bare surfaces and the rudiments of his supplies. No notes, no stickers, no photos.

No boots - only his own.

Objects were one thing - easy to cut out and discard and ignore. People were more difficult. Angela and Genny were persistent, sending Nolan and Nyla to Good Cop/Bad Cop him when he refused their approaches. Tamara sent voice notes or video calls at college-kid hours, which, predictably, lined up with his own. Wesley and James tried to badger him into guy’s nights out. Grey cornered him at work and sat him down for a stern talking-to.

But, eventually, his detachment wore them out, and they stopped calling. Stopped messaging. Stopped dropping by.

Bailey stopped sending clips and pictures of Kojo.

Tamara stopped spending weekends at the house.

Genny and, finally, Angela gave up and stopped appearing on his beat or in his office or at his door.

And he was alone.

Completely alone.

Lost, without her.

Their house grew dim, dust gathering in the corners and on the statues. The plants died out, withered bouquets first, then his fern, and at last, her tiny little succulents. The air grew stale, the rooms unlived in and unloved. No candles lit to drive away the small ghosts that clung to the furniture and the dark recesses of the hallway.

It was a tomb, a mausoleum to her memory, haunted each day by his living shadow.

But there was nothing alive here now.

Only on her grave, where he knelt in the soft earth and dug his fingers into the clay below him, was there any life.

Jasmine and lavender.

Warmed in the sunlight and sparkling with moonstone-bright droplets from the sprinklers.

This was the only place he could breath, could feel his heart trip into tangible rhythm.

And he breathed deep.

Jasmine and lavender.

Lush and vital and thriving over her final resting place. Petals smiling up at him with gleaming white teeth.

They know.

Tim is the one who died that day, his soul ripped out and buried there in the ground with her.

But Lucy…

Lucy is evergreen.

[princesslovelymal]

how to act like Disney princess

How to act like Cinderella?

Hi loves sorry for not posting .Here is other of my How to act like a Disney princess series. Cinderella was a kind and loyal animal lover, that she was abused, terribly by her stepmother and her stepsisters. Let’s learn how to act in adopt the habits of Cinderella. Without further ado let’s get started.👠

⛔️ Disclaimer: you don’t need to change yourself and try to act like someone else. This is just a guide of how to adopt Cinderella’s habits.

👠Be kind:I’m going to keep on saying this but please do this .To yourself to when you cry don’t beat yourself up for crying it’s natural and let all those tears out .Be kind to everyone and the gifts you receive.

🧹 Always see the best in others : Believe that your friends can do it .They can reach three goal. be patient and others, and don’t be quick to judge . I need to work on this too.

👠 Dream on : Have faith in your dreams and your beliefs, and believe that you will achieve it. don’t give up now. You have so much far to go to so don’t give up and believe.

🧹 Treat animals in nature with respect:Treat like a gem .It’s part of life so reward it or at least be kind to our Earth.

👠 Don’t let the meanness get to you:Accept your kindness and faith as it is and don’t let people’s opinions hurt your happiness.Because why waste life feeling like you have to live up to people’s expectations.

🧹 Believe in true love :No hookup crap .Real pure love that affects your heart .True love will finds its way to you so believe.

👠Enjoy the little things in life :Baby’s smiling ,The bird’s singing and people helping each other is the real joy in life.

🧹Never talk bad about people and yourself :See the beauty in other peoples life experiences than jealousy.Also you’re beautiful and smart so believe you are .

👠Listen to music you enjoy:Don’t listen to songs that are trendy or popular.Listen to you what even if it’s old fashioned .

Fashion and Beauty

Cinderella aesthetic:Ethereal ,Snowdrop and English Country side girl

Style analysis:Colors:Sky blue ,Pink,Mustard yellow,Teal ,Beige and Silver Materials:Velvet,Silk ,Crepeline,Cotton

Pieces she would wear

Long country dresses

Aprons

Princess nightgowns

Ball gowns

Fur Jackets

Bows

Headbands

Vintage headwraps

Black (or nude) flats

Clear high heels (to look like the glass slippers)

Extra

YouTubers she would watch :

Rising High meditation

The mamas faith

Its a Charming life

Any cleaning youtuber

Thank you loves for reading “How to be like Cinderella “.Have a magical day and remember dream on.❤️💎

Xoxo ,Mal💋

[hwsforeignrelations]

Southern Nights and a Balled Up Shirt

AO3: Leave kudos and and comment! Starved for feedback :)

Words: 2k+

Summary: Queen Arthur Kirkland is joined by Army General Alfred Jones for the centenary Royal Southern Spadinan Tour.

Based on the song Southern Nights by Glenn Campbell for 2023 @usukustwiceperyear Zine: “I Love You Like A Love Song” hosted by the amazing and fantastic TheNarcolepticOne and VerusMayaii II!

Beta-ed by the magnificent @corvussei. Thank you so much friend!!!

Alfred Jones grasped the top of his hat to fan his face, blond eyelashes fluttering blissfully over flushed cheeks. Air sweeping across Southern Spades' dusty earth provided momentary cool. When it passed he pried open his eyes with great reluctance.

Replacing the wide-brimmed hat over sweaty hair Alfred peaked over his shoulder as a crumpled figure adorned with inadequate purple fabric swelled with breath.

"Have you ever felt a southern night like this, Your Majesty?"

"Gmungh." Alfred lazily dodged an unmotivated pinch.

No matter how many times Arthur Kirkland set foot in any of Spades’ southern regions, the monarch of an empire spanning several continents never could appropriately pack for the weather. Personal aids, Alfred himself, and Jack Yao’s cajoling to make the man see reason stood against the latest (urban) Spadian fashion.

They had no ghost of a chance in influencing Arthur’s packing.

Three hundred years of rule made anyone accustomed to prioritizing appearance- a ludicrous endeavor traversing lands like these, not running into another soul for days at a time.

"I know you’ve taken these tours before - the people need to see their leader every once and a while. Why pay taxes if you've never heard of the peeps representing you up at Parliament, amirite? Yao and I tried to tell you- YOUCH"

This time, Arthur’s pinch struck its victim with the invigorated purpose of its perpetrator.

“That’s what you get for being a smart-ass.” Arthur straightened and held his reins with more purpose, sniffing his way past America's horse. Eyes stared down his nose at the road. ”I refuse to be seen, the only Spadian royalty these people might ever meet in their eighty-odd years, gallivanting about wearing anything less than a proper shirt.”

He kicked out the leg closest to Alfred for inspection. Alfred smirked at the pristine pair of jeans Arthur submitted to at the castle, after Alfred took every opportunity they spoke to nail in the supreme importance of denim pants during their tour. “Look at these-these… these things,” the queen’s regal lip curled in distaste while Alfred’s eyes laughed behind his glasses. “You couldn’t understand, Alfred,” he intoned, concealing his amusement at Alfred’s scandalized expression.

Arthur continued, “As leader of my most excellent military, public appearance speaks well for Spades in your creased, town-to-earth glory. You need only slip into a uniform for ceremonies. Not present the best Spadian fashion in crisp, tailored form every waking moment.“

Alfred scoffed, stabbing a thumb towards his puffed chest, declaring, “My taste in fashion is the pinnacle of class and culture. With our Jack and Queen and every Royal Guard maintaining Spades’ image of fancy-schmancy puffs and ruffs, it all comes down on my shoulders to show the people that their government, too, drips hip and trendy with Timeless Togue.” (Famous Spadian magazine equivalent to Vogue).

This is why Arthur preferred summers in the capital. Unbearable heat was less unbearable with flash showers to cool the air and wet cobblestone, with morning fog to beat back the sun a few hours before it broke through. Arthur did not want to be here - would not be here but for Yao and Alfred’s insistence. The affection he felt now started budding years ago. He liked being near his Army General so much, it often frightened him.

Many Christannikas ago Arthur addressed a holiday card to his Army General’s office. Then existed a grudging hope in Arthur’s mind that the handsome and highest member of the Spadian Royal Guard should receive said card - unlikely given the honey blond’s habit of not staying in one place longer than duty demanded. A week later Alfred responded with his own motley card. From there, infrequent casual letters greeted their desks. The now-weathered papers signified their first non-diplomatic interactions.

Never terribly personal, but consistently cordial, their exchanges contained areas which held mutual interest: travel, gossip, which fashion trends were lively to survive the decade. Especially gossip. Which members of the military were boning which of Parliament, which international relationships exceeded diplomacy. Occasionally politics, and the general wellbeing of their respective personnel.

Alfred enjoyed his Queen’s company, his quips and snark and resilience in the face of struggle. He knew Spades stood stronger for their royalty (not always a constant in any monarch’s history) and respected Arthur, cared for his well-being.

Every hundred years, the Queen made tours through the southern regions, Spades’ most rural, sparsely-populated towns and farmland. Alfred spent many decades living in the South. Due to homesickness and knowledge of the terrain, combined with concern for his Queen and a desire to be with Arthur (a desire Alfred wasn’t completely conscious of), he offered early on to escort Arthur through this years’ Southern tour.

The Queen struggled to acclimate to the southern region’s dry, humid, dusty plains. His centenary “cultural tour” was a nightmare for someone accustomed to chill to moderate temperatures. Cowboy camping under the stars, baking under an unrelenting sun and swallowing mouthfuls of dust, and watching Alfred charm small-town Spadians with broad smiles, full pockets and good labor at every wooden welcome sign their horses trotted past was their life during the twelve weeks.

Arthur held town meetings, presented state of affairs with overconfidence, shook hands, handed out stickers designed with the Spadian Coat of Arms, answered basic questions, ate (and drank) well, slept in a proper bed, then left for the next town. It was a dull, sweltering business. On the off chance his neck was exposed, mosquitoes ate him alive.

Between towns the occasional tree, Alfred and the horses’ shadows, and the tall slabs of limestone speckling the landscape provided the only shade to be found. SPF 500 did nothing for Arthur’s cheeks and neck, baked a bright red with not even the beginning signs of a tan.

Alfred’s bronze complexion seems to laugh at him and the freckles which dotted his nose. “Freckles look healthy on you,” Alfred offered once, unprompted.

Within the first week, Arthur was ready to return to the Capitol City. Eleven weeks left.

Arthur would never admit to enjoying the sight of Alfred in his element, broad shoulders stretched out in the unconfined outdoors. If the brown and beige ground existed for anything, it was to provide a flattering background to Alfred’s portrait. An eagle riding the wind cast ethereal sun rays over his General, the light bouncing off his lenses so his expression seemed mature. Capable. His relaxed silhouette upon the horse looked free as a breeze.

It was hard to imagine Alfred indoors now that he’d seen him like this. The landscape, although dry and hot as all Oracle’s worst punishment, was beautiful. The clear skies and uncrowded sounds of nature were so different from the crowded stress of urban living and the rolling Spadian countryside he was familiar with. Plants adorned the land even in this heat. Their survival reminded him to straighten his back and keep his chin up. If these resilient plants wouldn’t be caught drooping in this damned heat, neither would he.

Arthur imagined his countryside estate, the twisting mountain range of paperwork bending the thick wood of his desk. Though he shouldn’t be capable of the sensation from deskwork alone, his back ached at the prospect of pouring over thousands of documents, of the weeks it would take to make up for this damned cultural tour.

“- An’ I had a hotshot blast right past my year just five years ago. Seafaring is hard work, Queen Arthur, I commend your take-over of the Royal Navy from my management. The people you selected to run really know what they’re doing, and it gives me a more comfortable bandwidth- Royal Army’s always gonna be my favorite, y’know. Anyways, after that hotshot tore through the beam over my head I swore I’d never step foot in another boat. Besides awful seasickness, I’d much rather kiss the earth goodbye than some crummy wooden deck.”

Arthur tuned into Alfred’s narrative. He raised an eyebrow, though Alfred couldn't have seen it behind him. “If I didn’t know you better, it sounds like you’re running from danger,” he said it was a slow shoulder roll to tell Alfred he was joking. “But I agree. It’s far better to have the Navy under more specified command, and as you know from my early days working as a captain under the previous Queen, I do so enjoy taking more of a role in Spades’ overseas trade.”

Alfred hummed, considering Arthur’s contribution. In casual conversation, Alfred’s expressiveness meant you could perceive him regardless of whether your eyes were on him. He could imagine Alfred tapping his stubble with a dusty, gloved finger, and he could hear the other hand drumming over his saddle. Arthur found the repetitive action more soothing than agitating. Which was… perhaps a strange thought. Arthur further imaged Alfred blue eyes peering at the back of his head behind their lenses, was somewhat disturbed by the detail in which he could recall the likeness. Lost in thought, an unnatural shifting of dust behind them alerted Arthur’s senses.

Gooseflesh rippled over Arthur’s back and he whipped his head around.

“BLAM!”

In a flash Alfred's firearm was pulled an inch from his nose into the belly of a blue wolf. Arthur's ears rang momentarily.

Silver blood met his tongue in the same moment he opened it in shock. So rarely could anything sneak up on him, much less magical beings. Their auras alerted Arthur miles away. Arthur perceived Alfred’s heightened breathing after the encounter and internally berated himself, so distracted by present company he’d endangered them.

Alfred was fussing over Arthur when he broke the silence. “By Oracle, man! Let’s get a wiggle on before we shoot more poor beasts.” He still couldn’t hear so well and fixed it with a thimble of magic. Much better.

Now thoroughly awake, Arthur took his Stallion round and broke into a trot, Alfred coming up alongside moments later. Both men breathed closely as they surveyed their surroundings, Alfred with his natural senses and Arthur with his magic, exhausted though he was. Whispering wind was equivalent to a scream in an otherwise silent landscape.

Alfred spoke, “Poor buddy musta lost his pack, looked awfully skinny.”

Arthur knew that, of course. Even predators as powerful as a blue wolf had to have been starving to attack two humans. On horseback, no less.

“There’s no town for miles, Your Majesty. I’ll start setting up camp.”

Even for the bureaucratically-resentful Alfred Jones, no one ordered monarchs to perform domestic tasks. As the Army General, a high agent of state, the man wouldn't dare ask Arthur to get off his ass and help.

But he wanted to.

A golden sun cast its remaining specks of heat over the horizon and a breeze picked at their skin - Alfred’s unsubtle eyes ran over their stash of firepacks (self-contained fires) before busying himself with the horses' care, their sleeping arrangement, and supper.

Arthur flicked his index and a spark of blue erupted in a circle of rocks, the fire spitting at the air. Arthur watched Alfred labor. When the sun fully set the Queen and Army General sat close, eating their sandwiches and soup in silence. After supper they laid on cots under a clear Southern sky, stars brighter than anything either man was used to in the light-polluted city.

Neither man said a word when Arthur abandoned his cot altogether and buried his nose against Alfred’s warm neck. A chill swept the land, and Alfred had heat to spare.

–

When morning broke their bags were already packed.

Arthur shrugged into his warm long-sleeved, navy blue shirt (the coolest he’d brought) and felt sweat pouring from his pits before he saddled his horse. They went an hour before Alfred stopped them.

Arthur dismounted without question, already exhausted from the heat, irritated by the warm dampness of his torso, and sleepy from getting up earlier than usual.

He didn’t realize what was happening until Alfred’s hand offered a baby blue, light-weight shirt. Arthur looked up into Alfred’s smiling, slightly anxious face. “No use overheating when I packed plenty of tops.”

Arthur didn’t bother to fight that sound statement. He felt beyond grateful as he took the shirts from Alfred’s hands, but the day he displayed weakness to Alfred-Golden-Chucking-Jones was the day his heart stopped.

“Thank you, Jones.” His fingers reached the button over his collarbone on the queen's damp shirt, and Alfred’s ears turned a funny shade of red. He looked away, pretending to watch a cloudless sky and chattering nonsense while Arthur changed.

“King Ivan and Francis’ dispute over Campbell River’s gone south- well not actually but, like, figuratively, y-know. Anyways, the last town we stopped at had a few telegraphs from General Maisie. She’s got a few squadrons keeping an eye on things and looking after Spadian press- not to mention Francis feels safer with someone other than his and Ivan’s men to back up stories if shit really goes down. It’s worse than when we left, not sure quite how bad but we’re gonna have our work cut out when we return to the capital. Fact, I might be flying right back out. Real glad I was able to join you out here through, Yer Majesty. I woulda been worried if anyone else were out here guarding during your tour,” Alfred flicked one eye down to Arthur, who was just buttoning the last shirt.

“Does it feel better?” he asked.

Arthur moved around a bit. The shoulders looked ridiculous and it was very roomy, but he felt a million times better than he had inside that stuffy dress shirt. The collar smelled like Alfred. He was warm for an entirely different reason now, but he ignored it.

“Much,” he paused before adding. “You might know more than I do, right now. Yao insisted I take this tour as a break from diplomacy beyond interacting with these people. He must realize this forced ignorance only causes me more pain. But… it is a possibility we might be taking a more physical presence as Diamond’s ally if this dispute broadens.”

Alfred nodded, still flustered. For a man who didn’t hesitate to take off his own shirt during sparring practices, he went awfully red at the sight of Artur’s bare neck.

They had, of course, engaged in physical relations once or twice. Perhaps, Arthur admitted, with occasions ranging in the 50s (56 times, he knew. But who was counting?). After working alongside one another for over 100 years, who doesn't want to release a bit of tension after a stressful meeting, then and again? Or after a particularly merry holiday ball, or an unplanned run-in in an otherwise empty meeting room?

The detail that neither of these men knew was that this boning had been monogamous. Neither Alfred nor Arthur had engaged with, nor desired, another sexual partner in all their years of intimacy.

As they continued their ride along the humid landscape, Arthur’s gratefulness for Alfred lending his shirt expanded with every breeze which broke through the loose collar and cooled his skin. By the afternoon, thanks to their early start, they reached the next town and conducted their usual business with its population.

The inn-keeper set down a heaping plate of sauteed vegetables and shredded chicken with a liberal portion of gravy, eaten over corn muffins fresh from the oven and slathered with butter before the Spadian officials. They watched behind the counter with a prideful expression as Alfred tore into it with his usual gusto and the Queen polished his own portion at a slower pace, humming appreciatively.

Arthur didn’t bother interrupting Alfred’s fork romance with conversation and took his chewing breaks to watch Alfred enjoy himself. To see someone as expressive as his General unabashedly taking pleasure in a simple, good meal made the Queen’s breast grow warmer than any spiced brandy could hope to. Once you worked past Alfred’s generally animalistic method of consumption (which didn’t include a whole lot of chewing) it was a gratifying sight to see another human take such delight.

The night’s inn, the Blue Wolf, was better than most Arthur had slept in. The hesitant knock on his door was expected and he opened it in the nude, hand on hip and swung Alfred shirt, held between his two hands, around the Army General’s neck.

“These Southern nights felt so good, Your Majesty,” Alfred breathed against Arthur’s forehead, “Wish I could…”

Arthur pulled him inside.

“Bit warm, luv.” Arthur teased gently, “And… you can.”

Alfred shut the door behind him.

[number-onekidqueen]

𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐀𝐔 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐

athlete!Tedros x physiotherapist!Agatha

angst

Warnings: intoxication, insecurities.

Agatha wondered for the millionth time what she was doing as she slipped from the car, Sophie fussing beside her.

Details Sophie could find about the party had been scarce, but what she did find was that it was a quirky dress up sort of theme.

Agatha was not grateful for the additional motivation, creativity and excitement that invoked from Sophie.

Still, here she was, the product of her hard work.

A princess, 'just as Tedros should call you' Sophie had affirmed when Agatha had complained.

Her usually flat hair, with the help of a can of dry shampoo and generous pumps of mousse had been fashioned into the trendy messy up-do of late, 'collating recent trend and medieval bun in a glorious symphony.'

Navy and gold had been the colours that best suited her pale skin, according to Sophie. So she had donned a smooth, navy party dress obediently, with a slim sash of gold, whose skirt travelled to the ankle with a thigh-high split, and whose neckline revealed a smidge too much for Agatha's liking, but even she admitted looked good.

To distract that view, she had worn the ruby pendant given by her mother, and an old false sapphire bridesmaid tiara she had worn to Kiko's wedding.

She had tried to escape from Sophie's clutches before make up had been applied, but failed miserably. She begrudgingly had allowed her to apply gold eye shadow and rosy lip gloss, that tasted like strawberries, Sophie had cheerily informed her, so Tedros would enjoy kissing her.

Those thoughts and actions seemed the most foolish events on Earth now. Ascending the steps to the glass double doors leading into the large brick mansion, the beat of the deafening music already reverberating through her bones, Agatha's hands began to sweat.

Her anxiety only grew as the doors were pushed open by Sophie, the cacophony of party sounds blasting in her face. Sophie paid the raucous activities surrounding them no heed, only tugging her along with a perfectly manicured hand.

And so began the night.

As Agatha marked a half hour passed and Sophie's seventh glass of punch, she decided to let loose.

She had just been reaching for the ladle when a voice sounded behind them.

"Sophie?"

It was Hort. Sophie's ex, situationship, and occasional archenemy and obsession. They had a tangled history Sophie didn't even know where to begin recounting on most occasions.

"Hort!" Sophie exclaimed, tripping over her feet as she rushed to him, "Darling! I heard you went amazing in your match!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Hort," she slurred as she cradled his cheek, "it's such a long story. But I've missed you, and I especially dressed hoping I'd see you."

"I'm supposed to like princesses?" He joked.

Sophie bristled at that, withdrawing and scowling at him.

"No! She's the princess," She spat, with a gesture in Agatha's general direction, "I'm the flower nymph. I can't believe that you of all people wouldn't see that."

She began shaking her head and stormed away, ignoring Agatha and Hort's exclamations of protest as she set down her punch roughly with a slosh.

Agatha was left alone as Hort swiftly pursued her.

She did the only thing she could think of doing. She drank.

She was pretty sure she drank around five glasses before she forgot to count. Then, it was around twelve. After what she assumed was sixteen, and she was starting to find the splashing in her glass hilarious, she knew it was time to retreat and find Sophie.

Stumbling away, she barely noticed the cuddling couples, vomiting people and comatose bodies, stepping over them somehow and weaving through the remaining dancers and kissing stragglers.

Continuing her search, she yielded nothing, eventually giving up on Sophie and flopping onto a couch, not caring that three half-filled bowls of snacks spilled and tumbled off. There she sat, attempting to brainstorm where Sophie would've wandered, or where she might have taken Hort for a romantic encounter.

That was until she noticed Tedros, alone and surveying the view from the veranda. She blanched as he turned, making to enter the room where she sat.

Scrambling, she jumped off the sofa with a squeak and tumbled behind it, squatting and fixing her dress as she held her breath. Gosh, she hoped he hadn't seen her. If he had-

"Hiding from your boyfriend?" A voice slurred from behind her.

She swivelled awkwardly, wincing, and rose up, avoiding his gaze. He still dwarfed her by a good foot when she straightened to her full height. Guilt blossomed in her as she met his gaze, at the tides of hurt in his azure irises he was trying to rein in.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded.

The guilt evaporated at that tone, replaced by drunken annoyance. Agatha scowled at him, stepping backwards and crossing her arms.

"I wasn't aware it was a private party." She sniped.

"I wasn't aware plans with your boyfriend changed." He bit back sharply.

"Why does it bother you, anyway? Annoyed that I can have fun without you? That I actually have a life apart from tending to Mr. Golden Athlete?"

"No, I guess I just thought you were different. That we both felt something. But apparently not. I guess it would be fun leading on all your patients, wouldn't it?" He laughed cruelly.

Agatha paled at that, at the raw anger that was surfacing in his expression. Tedros was very, very intoxicated.

"Tedros-"

"It would've been a hilarious game for you. Watching me catch feelings. Viewing my flustered words and-"

"It's not like that!"

"-invitation for you. And then rejecting me at the end of all of it. Is that the reason you became a physiotherapist?"

"No, it's not. My motivation was never to hurt you, but to help you." Agatha protested.

"Really? How can rejecting me and talking about a boyfriend help me? And then turning up anyway, without that boyfriend?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I. I really don't understand you. Wanna explain? Or is your boyfriend coming to pick you up soon?"

"I like you," Agatha blurted, "I promised myself I'd never say that to you, but there you go: I like you. And you're supposed to be my patient and we're not supposed to do things like this, but you're funny and kind and charming. And-"

She didn't let herself say more as she noted his expression hadn't changed a fraction.

"You deserved better." She finally said, swallowing her tears.

"What?"

His expression had finally changed; it was now confused, outraged, waiting for her to elaborate.

"You deserve..." Agatha gestured to a dancing and giggling group of tanned and blonde girls in skimpy dresses, in particular Beatrix, a stunning girl who was known to change boyfriends as quickly as mothers changed nappies, "someone beautiful and perfect like them. Not someone insecure, introverted and ugly like me. You deserve better than that."

Tedros looked at her as if she'd grown three heads. Eventually, he sighed.

"For a med student, you are literally the dumbest person I know."

And then he stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her.

"Just so you know," he whispered, "I'd choose you every time."

"Maybe that makes you the dumb one then," Agatha whispered back, a small smile on her lips.

"Impossible," he chuckled, before they kissed again.

[whumpberry-cookie]

could we please have some emeto prompts where caretaker comforts whumpee? its the hot trendy prompt, everyone is doing it!! jump on the trend pal! -🎤🎩 Dapper Mic Anon

Ohhh, like the emetophobia!

For a moment I was wondering "...who on Earth is Emeto?"

Emeto comfort prompts!

But kinda ANGST at the same time. I'm sorry, apparently every comfort prompt I try to write turns out to be angsty. But I tried my best.

(Cw: Sickfic around vomiting. So bodily fluids. Also attemted murder, poison, internal injuires, revenge, forced medicine, morally gray caretaker)

----------------------

Whumpee suddenly vomits, and doesn't even have time to grab any bag, so they stain the sheets. And is soo... soo ashamed that Caretaker sees them like that. But instead of disgust or irritation, Caretaker is so relieved and happy. Because that means Whumpee's body is fighting with the sickness and they will get better soon.

Caretaker treats sick Whumpee. (kind of field medicine doctor?) As soon as they enter the room they decide it needs to be aired, because the smell of puke must be unbereable for the patient. But there's deadly cold outside and all patient beds are already occupied. So Caretaker gently picks Whumpee up and carries them in their arms. Maybe Whumpee vomits with blood and stains Caretaker's apron red. Caretaker lies Whumpee down in Caretaker's own room. (W:) "I'm sorry..." (C:) "It happens. That's what the apron is for after all"

A beggar Whumpee is endlessly grateful for getting a whole loaf of bread from some generous stranger. Until their stomach starts horribly hurting. While they vomit, their gullet burns like fire. And then they see there's blood and pieces of sharp glass in the fluid. Other starnger find them like that, takes them inside their house and treats the internal wounds as well as they can. "How did the first stranger look like? Describe them to me," asks stranger Caretaker. Whumpee does. Caretaker silently leaves the house and comes back some hours later. When asked where they were, Caretaker replies with a mysterious smile, "I just fed someone with their own recipe"

Whumpee got poisoned, so Caretake has to force the vomiting-provoking medicine into them. It's heartbreaking to see Whumpee so pale, wet from the tears, saliva and sweat. So exhausted. They can't even sleep. They vomit the whole night. Caretaker just sits there and holds the bucket for them, sometimes pushes Whumpee's hair from their forehead. (W:) "Please, make it stop already" (C:) "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Whumpee, but I can't until you clean your stomach" Whumpee cries in helplessness. Caretaker hugs them tight. "It will be over soon. I promise"

(C:) "Whumpee. I work as a tanatopraktor for almost five years. Do you really think the pukes are the worst thing I had all over me?" (W:) "....Will you tell me what was the worst?" (C:) "Will you puke again if I tell you?" (W:) "...Probably" (C:) "Then I'll leave it to your imagination"

_________________________

Thank you so much for the ask, Dapper Mic Anon!

I had no idea that's the trend now! Thank you for letting me know! Maybe I should make research in community more often...?

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Sugar and spice

My dear friend @lordoftherazzles has been good enough to submit a prompt.

As Razzy is a known and very skilled Bagginshielder, I have done my best to write a small treat for her with her blorbos.

I love you and I hope this makes you smile!

Words: 1,4 k

Warnings: Cursing and slight sexual innuendo

Characters: Bagginshield

Bilbo stared at his reflection in the mirror and decided that his cream-coloured button-down and the matching tan formal trousers were good enough for the ominous blind date he had been browbeaten into by his dear cousin Primula.

As far as he had understood the good woman – he had to admit that he had not entirely paid attention to her lengthy explanation – she and an unnamed friend of hers had organised what Primula was sure would turn out to be a very successful date.

With a deep sigh, Bilbo admitted that he loved his cousin more than he had ever told her and thus, he finally had agreed – not without putting up a little bit of a fight to keep things interesting, of course – to attend the proposed dinner in a shockingly expensive downtown restaurant that would be entirely financed by her magnanimous generosity.

Naturally, he found it incredibly insulting that she seemed so offended by his single status that she’d rope in not one but two other people to amend said circumstance, but he also knew that she meant well; moreover, he trusted her not to have chosen a complete dud. How bad could it be?

As soon as – upon arriving at the excessively upscale eatery – he informed the stuffy headwaiter of his arrival though and was consequently led to a secluded table – candles, cloth napkins, and the whole spiel in glaring evidence – he had to bite back a guffaw.

“Good evening Thorin,” he greeted casually and stretched out a jovial hand for the other man to shake.

“I should have known,” Thorin grinned with a boyish grimace that made his handsome face light up with mischief.

“I take it that the mysterious friend is Knitting-circle-Ori then,” Bilbo commented as he handed over his coat to the waiting server who did his best not to betray any kind of emotion.

Rifling through his hazy memories, Bilbo tried to recall the exact words Primula had used upon explaining how she had set up this romantic farce.

“You know him?” Thorin asked as he tapped his finger against his empty glass to signal his wish for another beer.

“We are in the same book club, yes,” Bilbo acquiesced without looking up from the wine menu; a dry white wine might do the trick, he thought, and promptly ordered a glass of crisp Pinot Gris from his favourite vineyard.

“He’s distant kin,” Thorin explained glumly. “Who is his co-conspirator?”

“My cousin Primula; she’s very close kin to me.” Bilbo couldn’t suppress his grin when Thorin’s face froze into a mask of shocked betrayal; apparently, Primula was known to him and he – like many a man before him – had been duped by her rosy complexion and her easy smiles.

“We met at a dart championship,” Thorin muttered morosely. “I’d never have thought her capable of such duplicity.”

He seemed visibly impressed with the devious machinations of two of the most placid and easy-going people in their lives, but Bilbo realised just as clearly that Primula and Ori had overlooked one crucial point: if they knew one another as well as their chosen victims, how on earth had they expected Bilbo and Thorin never to have met one another?

It was true that they had never spoken much, but – as two men past their prime who were interested in other men – they had necessarily crossed paths before.

“Well, you strike me as the kind of man who’d frequent this kind of establishment more often than me,” Thorin then said amiably, “so I defer to your wisdom. I cannot make head nor tail of half the things on the menu.”

As an avid foodie, Bilbo was in his element right away and they spent the next minutes sipping their drinks and philosophising about the truly awful names the wanna-be-trendy restaurant had slapped upon the most mundane of dishes.

When the much put-upon waiter finally had secured their orders, Bilbo leaned back in his chair and eyed Thorin with unabashed interest. He had believed himself past the age where bad boys in black shirts made his heart beat faster, but the quick wit and sparkling humour the man sitting across from him hid so masterfully under a thick layer of blasé pugnaciousness made his stomach clench with another kind of hunger.

Despite the silver streaks adorning that raven hair, Thorin could boast cheekbones one could cut cheese with and bright blue eyes that glinted with every word he spoke; he was a handsome man and moreover, surprisingly good company.

Indeed, the dinner ended up being – as predicted by a smug Primula – truly delightful. In truth, Bilbo generally dreaded overly formal settings and Thorin’s outspoken impatience with the pomp chased away much of the breathless, muted tension these establishments cultivated like precious fungi.

“Do you think they’ll check on us?” Thorin drawled, letting his eyes wander across the tastefully decorated room. Mindful of the potential scrutiny of the orchestrators of this date, they had decided to share a platter of miniature desserts – all of them delicious and disgracefully tiny – and were presently fighting discreetly for the last bite of mousse au chocolat.

He might have been an expert at throwing pointy things at cork boards, but Thorin was no match for Bilbo with a spoon and so he had to admit his defeat and withdraw, watching that gooey treasure disappear behind soft, plush lips.

The sound of sensual pleasure escaping Bilbo as he truly savoured his victory made Thorin’s skin tingle and he almost ordered another mousse just to hear it again; it had been some time since he had heard such bone-melting sounds fall like summer berries from the inviting, shapely mouth of another man who was neither an idiot nor a cold-blooded player.

“I guess that Primula will not be able to resist,” Bilbo finally replied, the tip of his tongue tracing his bottom lip slowly to make sure that he had not missed a single crumb of the sugary goodness they had just indulged in.

“Should we…” Thorin fell silent again, but he saw the echo of his own devious plan flare in those vivid, hazel eyes. A ferocious grin stretched across Bilbo’s soft, gentle face as he nodded ponderously.

“Yes,” he said, “yes, indeed, I think we should make them pay for their ill-advised idiocy!”

The restaurant sat at the end of a cul-de-sac like a plump housecat, but there were plenty of pubs and bars further up the street; it did not take long for the improbable couple to catch a glimpse of their respective tormentors, huddled by the front window of a cosy ice-cream parlour.

“What do you propose?” Bilbo asked, tilting up his face adoringly at Thorin while making sure that the yellowish light from the nearby streetlamp fell squarely on his soft features to make sure that his persiflage of an enamoured expression could easily be caught by the two knitting-needle-wielding fiends across the street.

“I don’t know,” Thorin replied without moving his mouth overmuch for fear that either one of their spectators would be able to read his lips. “How far are you willing to go?”

A small twitch of that button nose as Bilbo was pondering the question furiously made him lift his massive paw to cup Bilbo’s soft, beardless cheek and caress it with a lazy swirl of his cool thumb.

“Kiss me,” Bilbo then breathed, getting increasingly caught-up in a fantasy of his own making. “Do it as if you meant it!”

His eyes fluttered shut dramatically as Thorin bent down in slow-motion.

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Thorin muttered into the steadily diminishing space between his own lips and Bilbo’s. “I’ll get back that last bit of mousse yet!”

Before Bilbo could either laugh or protest, firm lips – warm and surprisingly tender – were pressed against his own; his fingers flew up to card through that unexpectedly soft beard while his other hand clawed itself into a solid, strong shoulder.

Who would have thought that playing darts against Primula gave one that kind of body?

As Thorin deepened the kiss, his own hands coming to rest possessively on the small of Bilbo’s back, every rational thought of retribution and vengeful pretence flew apart.

Suddenly, the very same indecently tremulous sound slipped out of Bilbo’s mouth and melted in a cloud of chocolate and sugar on Thorin’s tongue.

“Fuck them,” Thorin groaned, tightening his hold on Bilbo’s soft body. “They might well have been right, damn them!”

“Thorin?” Bilbo looked up almost shyly, his tongue darting out once more to check his lips for overlooked delicacies. “You’ll never guess what is sitting in my fridge.”

“Please say it’s a mousse,” Thorin begged; in truth, he didn’t care one bit. All he really wanted was for this fake date not to end just yet.

“It’s a blueberry one,” Bilbo, pulling himself up by slinging his arms around Thorin’s neck, purred seductively into his ear. “Interested?”

So, @fellowshipofthefics, this was the third for today. @sunnyrosewritesstuff, I'll get onto yours as soon as I'm up and about again tomorrow.

Lots of love from me <3

[blueikeproductions]

I can tell you right now, if this actually happened it’d be suicide. This Chinese spin off couldn’t even get off the ground when Cyberverse was on, coupled with political tensions at the time, what makes you think this is gonna work now?

The Cyberverse toys barely sold as it was. They went to clearance immediately when it came out during Christmas, and Japan cancelled the line outright it did so poorly. Japanese stores were STILL clogged with unsold merchandise after the show ended in America!

So no, until Hasbro actually says so, I don’t believe for an instant they’d be THAT stupid to pseudo revive one of their worst selling toy lines to buy time for a post EarthSpark kids cartoon. They’d have better luck dubbing and repackaging Transformers Go!, the Braves meets Beast Hunters Prime continuation Japan got when Prime was cancelled down there.

I don’t think partnering with Nick or Cartoon Network matters anymore anyway. Nick is so neck deep in controversy it has fully become The Sponge Network: All SpongeBob, All The Time. Cartoon Network has nothing new except Ivandoe, which is just Gumball again like the incredibly short lived Elliot From Earth was, so that’s not helping. Tiny Toons Looniversity sure, but that’s on borrowed time, as that only appeals to Animation Twitter Stans and curious Millenials who grew up with Adventures, and the later has mostly abandoned it.

In my experience, modern kids hate most modern cartoons anyway and are either watching web shows, trendy anime or older cartoons like Tom & Jerry.

Transformers’ best bet now is becoming a Netflix series like Pokémon has become in the west. Paramount+ is a glass house waiting to crumble, that so far most rocks thrown at it have been terrible aims.

And as much as some don’t want to hear it, the best type of show Transformers can be now is pure anime like RiD01 & the Unicron Trilogy. Anime is bigger now than its original boom in the 90’s and 2000’s, and a new kid oriented toyetic Transformers anime is the best thing they can do now.

What that would be I don’t know beyond classic Autobots vs Decepticons with Optimus & Megatron as the hero & villain we know them to be, not shady moronic uncle and still somehow slightly racist but repentant great uncle they are in EarthSpark. (I’ve said once I’ll say it again, MEGATRON palling around with the lead black-Asian family is not the flex people think it is.)

I would also accept Autobots vs Terrorcons as the gimmick of a kids anime, but we need proper hero and villain characters again. Skybound is proving head over heels this is what people want.

If Hasbro has the audacity to revive Cyberverse and force what many outside China will probably think is Astro Boy in heelies, the series outside of Skybound will be even more worse off.

The only thing they can reasonably be tinkering with is a kids cartoon based on ONE, and that can either be telling the story of what happened after the Quintessons on Cybertron, or more likely, they’re on Earth with an original story about the Decepticons & Quintessons doing something, while Optimus and Elita tell vague stories to Spike (white), Carly (Asian), and Chip (black) about what happened on Cybertron relating to the problem of the day so as not to overshadow an eventual TFTWO. And best case scenario that won’t be ready until summer of next year at the earliest.

Bottom line: Cyberverse no, TFONE the Animated Series on Earth yes. Energon Universe anime is preferable but we’re not there yet.

[pxxppet]

Making Happy (Part 2)

Teeth AU Chapter 3

Jameson get some psychiatric help, but it leaves him with lots to process.

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

The psychiatrist barely looks him in the eye the entire appointment, and Jameson finds himself wishing desperately she had let Henrik in. He has to write in a little notebook rather than sign.

"Do you hear or see things that others do not?" Her voice is so clinical. She clicks a pen repeatedly, eyeing the clock. Jameson points to 'rarely' on the page before him. It has happened occasionally, when he does see anything at all that is. Why did she ask a blind man this, again?

"Do you not trust what you think is real?"

His hand hesitates the movement. That seems to be true every single day this past while. 'Often.'

"Do you sense that others might be controlling you? Your thoughts or actions, such as."

Jameson shifts on the uncomfortable grey chair. Someone was for a long time. How would he not? 'Very often.'

"Do you struggle to keep up with daily living, such as showers or cleaning?"

'Often.'

"Do you feel like you have powers that other people can't understand?"

Yes, always, ever since he was born. 'Never.'

"Do you have trouble organizing or keeping track of your thinking?"

'Often.'

"Are you struggling with maintaining your social relationships?"

Constantly. 'Rarely.'

"Do you feel like you're being followed or tracked?"

Static, static, louder the farther from the house he moves. 'Often.'

"Do people have trouble guessing the emotion on your face?"

Jameson's face has been dead aside from forced-looking smiles the entire day. 'Often.'

She regards him at last, looking him over. "Your hands are stiff, your face is emotionless, and you seem to have some odd thinking. I'll start you on paliperidone, a newer medication, and I'll prescribe benzodiazepine limitedly for those freezing up episodes you mentioned. I'll need to observe you in a few other appointments, and get a lab work-up before I'll officially diagnose you and prescribe refills."

And with that it's over; he's standing outside the quickly closed door. Must be lunch time. Henrik comes running from the waiting area, but is halted by the front desk worker. She, at least, seems to pity them, because she sighs and concedes to let him by once she glances back and sees how wobbly on his legs Jameson is. Henrik rushes up to him and offers him his arm. Jameson gratefully accepts.

"How are you feeling?" Henrik mumbles.

"Tired" JJ responds honestly. He brushes across the long hair laying across the back of his neck. "Need to go home."

Henrik smirks. "You'll be as long as Marvin soon if you don't let someone cut your hair." He guides Jameson along to their car on his arm, helping him buckle in, then getting into the driver's seat.

As they drive, JJ keeps his cheek pressed to the cool window. Summer will be over soon and the days are growing colder. He watches the pinpoint spot of colours rush by in the black. Anti used to cut his hair. A razor to the sides and scissors to the top, always matching their hair in a trendy long-on-top-short-on-sides style. Their outfits always looked at least similar, aside from the days he would play dress-up and put him in vests and ties like the day he was born. Jameson closes his eyes, sighing out against the glass. He's overgrown and dressed in the clothes of Anti's enemies. He feels like there's a hairball in his throat, the quiet static coming closer as their home becomes visible in the distance.

Marvin is on the couch as Henrik leads JJ through the door. Henrik starts and glances at them, waiting for yelling or disgust on their face. Instead Marvin just gives them a welcoming nod, and immediately focuses intensely on the T.V. Henrik blinks, but then JJ is tapping him to question why they've stopped. He whispers a 'sorry', then leads him to his bedroom.

Henrik walks back into the room and balks at his sibling. "Going to tell me some earth-shattering secret as to why you are not mad at him still?"

Marvin snorts. "Fuck off, doc, it's nothing like that. I just… sort of realised how much of an ass I was being after even Chase scolded me. It's my own fucking issues, I shouldn't put the shit about Jack on the kid's shoulders, is all."

"Wow, my big sibling, actually admitting to their faults. Did I travel to another universe this past week?"

Marvin shoots him a scandalized look and Henrik laughs aloud. He trods to the sofa and plops beside them, snuggling into their shoulder. Marvin hugs him back, and Henrik knocks their heads together softly. "Welcome back to yourself, my friend."

---

Jameson sits among the gold. He's crying, he has been for the past 30 minutes. He brought a beaded bracelet he made with Chase and one of the muffins Henrik brought him yesterday to the grave with him, gifts for his brother. Before the crying began he had wound the bracelet around the stick below the carving. There, now it actually sticks out in his fumbling darkness. He set the muffin by the stick, like an offering to the distant gods.

He brushes his fingers over the carved name over and over as he cries, letting the name fill his head. Anti, Anti, Anti. Brother, master, captor; all of these things at once. He wonders how Anti saw him. Was he a brother? A possession? Does it even matter now that it's over, a long long time ago? Chilled wind slides across his wet cheeks as he cups his hands over his trembling mouth, rocking in the dirt and flowers. He loves him. Jameson doesn't think he'll ever stop loving him. But Anti hurt him badly. The psychiatrist's blunt words roll in his mind over and over. The questions and how broken they made him feel. It's all his brother's fault - his captor's fault. The damage is forever.

Jameson brushes tear-soaked hair out of his face. If he cuts it, he is terrified of looking like Anti's brother again. But don't Jackie and Henrik have similar hair? Wouldn't he look like them, too? Doesn't he just look like Jack, at the end of it? When did this face become so painful? He used to love that Anti dressed like him and cut his hair. He used to love the small similarities that reassured him Anti loves him. He stares through the black at the colourful beads, and finds himself wondering if Anti can see him, wherever he is. If Anti is laughing at how goofy and childish the beads look on a grave. A small laugh bubbles out through his tears. Anti, Anti, Anti, chants his mind. My stupid big brother.

He cries until the sun begins to set, eventually slumping to the ground half asleep, watching the world darken til his vision is useless.

Jackie walks out around 8 p.m. and finds him dozing off. His heart aches, and with guilty hands he lifts JJ to his chest, carrying him back to the house. Jackie puts him into his bed, but cannot bring himself to leave the room. He ends up curled across the foot of the bed as Jameson sleeps.

Jameson wakes while it's still dark, and finds Jackie in the same place. He could see that bright maroon hoodie in any darkness he faced, he thinks. He rolls the quilt and sheets down, tucking them across Jackie's back. With a smile he can't quite place, he gets up to shower and make tea, leaving the hero to get some well-deserved rest.