#we'll see what does sprout

[doomspaniels]

I was distressed that I didn't get many wildflowers this spring & summer. I got an area cleared specifically to plant native perennial wildflowers, so that doesn't happen again. I think it about broke the landscaper's heart to think of leaving the newly cleared flowerbed bare when he was done; we ended up with several live plants in there while we wait for the seeds to sprout. Some are milkweeds, and we have monarch caterpillars on them!

I can't begin to tell you how *helpful* the Spaniels are. They're helping to sniff all the plants, to verify the foot traffic resistance claims of the seeds, and to dig where it's absolutely not required. So helpful. I don't know how anyone does gardening without their assistance.

[eupheme]

— are you mine?

joel miller x f!reader

rated t - 4.4k

tags: over-protective and soft jackson!joel, partners-to-lovers, mutual jealousy, secrets, miscommunication and rumors, light angst, valentine’s day

a little valentine’s day gift for the lovely @sweetercalypso - I was so thrilled to get you for the Space Sister’s exchange! I really hope you like it! 💌💕

A change in your usual patrol schedule, a dash of over-protectiveness, and a gossipy partner leads to you desperately wish you could turn back time.

Because how can you face Joel, after this?

"I don't like it."

His voice comes from next to your shoulder. Rough and low - your eyes drifting over heavy, muddied boots, then up. Trying not to linger where his strong arms cross over a broad chest, the pull of fabric against skin where the sleeves are rolled up to elbows.

"Don't like what?" You ask, as your plate and mug join the pile of others in the bin to be washed. Finishing up a quick breakfast in the mess hall before your patrol shift begins.

A second lingers, before Joel answers.

"Don't like the thought of you out there without me."

His answer makes your stomach flip, butterflies already sprouting at the unexpected encounter. You hadn't thought you'd see Joel until later - an unexpected change in last night’s schedule. Sending him out from evening until dawn, and leaving you with a new partner for this morning.

"You're the one that swapped shifts." You point out, finally glancing his way. Seeing the pull of his brows, the shift as he leans against one of the heavy wooden support beams, "Anyways, I won't be alone. They have me with William."

The mark between his brows deepens, "Don't know if I like that, either."

Your own eyebrows raise, "What's wrong with William?"

He doesn't answer - the dark pull of his gaze breaking, as his eyes drop.

"Heard rumor there might be someone in the woods," Joel changes the subject, "Dirt kicked over the ashes, footsteps leading off to the east. No sign of anyone, but that don’t mean they ain’t hangin' around.”

He's worried, you think. Your hand reaches out, hovering for just a moment before you're clapping his bicep, instead of his bare forearm.

"Just because there was someone there, doesn't mean they're bad." The touch lingers for a moment, before your hand is dropping - shoving into your jacket pocket, "Besides, it’s daylight now. We'll be fine. Always are."

His look is dark, at your words.

An optimism lingering in you that has long been leached from his system. An uneasiness that lingers in his blood and bones - a shift of his his as he reaches to draw something out of his back pocket. Pressing it into your hand, when you reach for it without thinking.

"Know how to use this?"

It's a knife - his knife -  the folded handle fitting his broad hand but feeling more like a dagger in yours.  

“Joel, please-” You all but huff, torn between annoyed and touched. Reaching out to hand it back, but he’s shifting sideways to dodge you. 

“Humor me, alright?” He’s grumbling - but he's not done - fishing something else from his jacket pocket. Holding it out for you to take as well - heavy and plastic in your other hand.

You flip it over, seeing the small antenna fit above the speaker, the buttons worn bare and smooth beneath. A gleam of red, the light already on and winking.

"Ellie's got the other. I'll get it from her this morning." He explains, "Two-way radio. You need anything or run into anyone, I'll know."

It would be stifling, if it were anyone else.

Insulting, perhaps. 

But knowing that Ellie does this for Joel soothes you, teeth biting into your lip to hold back your smile.

And you can’t deny that you did feel a little uneasy, heading out without your partner.

"Fine.” You tell him, with a sigh.

“But just this once."

The ground crunches beneath your feet, a frost and thin snow freezing and blanketing the green pokes of grass overnight. 

You’re already ready for spring, even though the world has just creeped into February. Missing the crunch of leaves instead of ice. Yearning for the daffodils and crocuses to pop up, as the earth thaws.

But for now - you’re content to concede that it’s easier to do your job, at least. The only damaged grass around you, the only marks in the dirt, are your own. 

Quiet, idle conversation with William passing as you take the usual route - your rucksack a familiar weight against your shoulders. Padded with the faded and patched feather-down of your coat as you weave between trees.

Checking traps for food, finding nothing. Not unusual when the rest of the world seems to be sleeping.

The sun is nearly overhead when you reach the watchtower, the spindly legs that hold the narrow room high in the sky. The rungs leading up are wide, but you still hold your breath as you climb. Only exhaling at the top, when both your feet are firmly on the metal platform - cold air sharp in your lungs with your inhale.

It's pretty up here. A clouded blue sky above, a suggestion of snow. A wistful hope that it will hold off until tomorrow, as your patrol partner unlocks the door - checking the inside before you follow.

Your rucksack lands with a thud just inside the door, which closes behind you. The windows are cracked, spider-webbing from the corners, but still holding firm enough that it shields you from some of the chill outside.

Looking out above some of the trees, giving you a peek of Jackson when you stand in the southern corner. 

Here, you can take a minute to breathe. To talk, while keeping watch and warm.

You can’t remember the last time you've been out with William. You didn't run in the same circles - he had a regular rotation of patrol partners. You had Joel, and sometimes Ellie, and you never found a reason to stray.

That thought, the change, had kept you busy on the patrol. Your mind wandered as your feet moved on your own, through well-known paths. Eyes seeing but your thoughts elsewhere.

He had seemed worried, at the mess hall.

Or - on edge, at least. Distracted.

There had been a quick rap on your door, a mumbled excuse about them needing him last night. Letting you know you'd be with someone else for your shift in the morning. A glance over his shoulder, nodding towards the figure that was waiting for him, before he was off.

And although he had made the switch, he sure didn't seem happy about it this morning.

William was friends with Jesse, who was friends with Ellie and Dina - you couldn't think of a reason for the ever-present mark that had deepened between his eyebrows.

You wonder why - because surely, a set of trained and fed partners would be more than a match for anyone drifting through the woods on their own. Even you weren't so nervous, and you didn't have the years and grit of someone like Joel.

And it wasn't like William was unprepared. He'd been doing patrols just as long as you had, maybe even a little longer.

It's here that you're drawn away, your companion’s voice breaking through your thoughts. His foot tapping yours, where you both sit on the old, wooden floor.

“Been a while, huh?”

You nod in agreement, offering the slightest lift of a smile, “Yeah. Been couple months, at least.”

“More than that. Bet it’s been close to a year.”

“Oh.” You blink, thinking back.

Wondering if that’s why his gaze has been on you so often this morning - that he’s nearly forgotten what you look like, “Guess I hadn’t noticed.”

You hadn’t realized it’s been that long. And at the same time, only that long.

Joel had drifted for a while in Jackson - untethered, but never far from the nearest door, the nearest wall. Content to watch from the fringes, to stay unnoticed. To slip out, when he’s had enough.

It still took a few months until he was rotated into the patrol. Until you met him, fully. Needling conversation out of him in these morning walks, or when the stars stretched out in the inky night.

Fully expecting him to trade out, when he could. Others often did - preferring a variety of company.

He never did. And neither did you. 

Things worked with Joel. And more than trust had bloomed in those lone hours together, something that had planted in your first days of seeing him. Carefully tended, nourished by the slivers of traded secrets and shared looks and moments where you had thought that just maybe…. maybe… you weren’t alone. 

"Don't know how you can stand patrolling with him. He’s a scary dude." William mutters, the sound low as you hunker down below the rim of the metal railing.

You frown. Joel's not scary. Not really. Not to you.

A grouch, for sure. All bark and bite, but it's never once been directed at you. 

“Joel?” You ask, clarifying.

“Yeah, Miller.” He gives you a sideways look, “You know he's killed people, right? Like, not just infected. People, people.”

The stories and rumors aren't new to you, they cling to him like ghosts. The whispers when he came into town had never stopped - but with time, they had lessened.

He had intimidated you, at first. A low voice and an angry look that would send anyone scurrying, but in the two years since he's been here, it's all faded at the edges. Gone soft. 

Looking back, knowing now how he looks after Ellie, looks after you - you’re not sure how you ever saw him that way. 

And you think, you hope, that deep down - he does care. That a part of him might feel the same.

It’s there in the way he sought you out this morning. More than a dislike in the change of his schedule - that wouldn’t have loosened the knife he carried.

It was there in your patrols. In the way you felt safe, with him - in how it flowed from outside those wooden walls to inside the town, inside his home. 

"We all have." You reply, with a sharp finality.

You didn't really remember the days before. Your life had been filled with spoken memories, but they weren't yours. The days of lawfulness are akin to fairy tales - merely stories, in your mind.

Who were you to judge, when your own hands were stained?

The infected weren’t the only monsters in this world. You’re sure he had his reasons, as did you.

William makes a sound of agreement, before dropping the subject. Content to watch the sparkle of snow, caught in the wind where it drifts down from tall branches.

That silence is broken a little later, with another question.

"You goin' to the dance later?"

Your legs stretch, toes wiggling in the chill of the room. Even enclosed, the cold seeps in through the cracks and thin panes of splintered glass.

"Of course."

Everyone would be.

The dances in Jackson were few and far between. Even more rare in these cold months - people preferring to stay warm, keep out of the snow that gathers in the alleys, the chill that whips down the rows of buildings. 

The day before had been spent decorating the church hall. There was an ache in your arms where you had helped Wendy roll out the dough for cookies - watching as the younger folks cut hearts out of recycled paper in the mess hall, to be strung along the walls. 

Underneath the stars above and in the glow of the lights, it would be beautiful.

There's a steadying breath next to you.

A moment, before he's asking, "You goin' with anyone?"

The rest comes in a rush, "I mean, do you wanna go with me?"

He turns your way, as you slowly go still. Too surprised to form an answer, trapped in his gaze with your wide eyes and parted lips.

"I-" You begin, and then falter.

William was nice. A little older than you. Showy, when he was with his friends, ready to do anything for a laugh.

Nice, but not Joel. No one was.

And deep down, you know that it's not like Joel thought of you that way. Returned those feelings, despite your wishes.

But you knew he'd be there. He'd go for Ellie, who would make sure she was there to see Dina.

And you'd go for Joel.

Even if just to see him, even if only for a moment.

The silence has stretched too long, an uneasy shifting next to you as he waits for an answer.

"There someone else?" The lilt of his voice has turned sharp, accusatory. Slicing through your thoughts, demanding your attention.

And again, you stumble. Still unable to form words, still too caught off guard - tongue twisted in knots. 

“There is, isn’t there?” Another verbal nudge, and it’s here that you find your voice. 

"There is... uh, someone." You manage - not ready to spill your guts, but there’s no chance you’ll agree to go with him.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he scoffs, "Who, Joel?"

He laughs at his own joke - and it's only now, as it's turned on you, that you notice how cruel it can sound. 

Your own eyes drop, head turning back towards the wall. 

And it’s here that your eyes snag on the cherry red gleam that peeks from the outside pocket of your rucksack. 

The radio. 

Forgotten entirely, in the long walk over. 

Panic courses through you.

Can he hear you, from here? Is he listening now?

You send up a silent wish, hoping that perhaps he's stepped out. That if you're lucky, the radio doesn't quite reach this far.

The silence gives you away, before you can brush it off - too caught up in the fear that twists in your stomach. A look had crossed your features that William had caught, the laughter dying as he pushes to his feet.

"You can't be serious." There's the mocking curl of his lip, a look of incredulity, "Miller? Are you out of your mind?"

There had been a flicker of thought - thinking that you could go over, switch it off. Or change the subject, tell Will to just shut up - but there’s something in his tone that distracts you - igniting your dread and embarrassment into anger and irritation. 

Making you slip up.

"So what if it is? It's none of your business-" You begin, but he cuts you off.

He’s fully turned your way now. The melting snow of his boots soaking into the hem of your jeans, with how he close he sits. Close enough that you can see the grit of his jaw, as he flings another barb at you. 

"You think he's going to treat you right? Do you even know where he was last night?”

It feels like a slap in the face - the way you flinch, cheeks burning.

“He… he was on patrol.” You stammer, unsure where this is headed.

“Could be. It’s easy to change logs when you got a brother out at the same time.” He shrugs, as if it’s nothing. As if your world hasn’t tilted on it’s axis, leaving you off-kilter.

Your heartbeat thunders behind your ribs, in your ears, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean… Fred said he saw him at Esther’s house. Last night and this morning.”

Rumors spread like wildfire in a town as close-knit as Jackson. It wasn’t hard to see where he was going, even if it pained you.

Esther, who tended the greenhouse.

Esther, who Joel had once been set up.

Esther, who split last month with her husband. 

Esther, who kept the house.

You’re frozen. As if the cold has sunken into your skin, bonded with your bones. An aching weight settling over your heart, stealing your breath.

Because in this moment, you truly realize how much you’d been thinking about him as yours. Suddenly realizing the depth of you feelings for Joel - how much he’s come to mean to you.

It’s devastating, thinking about him being someone else’s.

It just can’t be true.

But… 

But wouldn’t it explain his actions this morning?

Did you misread worry for guilt? Or secrecy?

“Look.” He says, after a pause. Giving you a pitying look, his hand reaching out to touch your shouler, “All I’m saying is that I’d never-”

It was all too much. 

You’ve had enough. 

"Can you just drop it?" You hiss, suddenly, "I'm not going with you."

The focus of his gaze still rests on you, as you push yourself to your feet. Grabbing for your bag - it's still a little early, but you're not about to stay stuck up in this tower with him.

"Where are you-" He's asking, as you shake your head - slipping past him, through the door.

"I'll see you back at Jackson."

Letting it slam shut behind you.

It's stupid, to wander off by yourself. Even if you weren’t too far from home, no more than a thirty minute walk. 

The rifle left in William's possession, where it still rested against the railing. Joel's blade heavy and cold in your hand as you fish it from your jacket pocket.

Matching the stone-heavy weight of your heart, as you follow your footsteps back towards town. Your thoughts twisting, as you silently bargain with whoever might be listening.

Wishing foolishly that you could turn back time. 

Content with even just not knowing.

Because that’s the worst part, right? That you know he knows. And that he knows you do. That surely - he heard it all.

If you were alone, if you hadn’t taken that radio, you’d still have your secret.

Maybe Joel wouldn’t have his, but you’d try to bear it. Find a way to put the pieces of your heart together, and try to move on.

Cherish those few more days, weeks, before he would have told you. Maybe by then, you could’ve acted happy.

But now, you’re certain he won’t want anything to do with you. Certain that you’ve ruined a good thing - not just the patrols, but your partnership, and friendship.

Because who would want to stick around with a girl with a stupid little crush?

It leaves you feeling flayed open. Grateful for the whip of the wind, giving you an excuse for the tears that spring to your eyes. 

For a moment - in your embarrassment - it leaves you even thinking about running away.

You'd survived for this long. It would be harder, on the outside. But perhaps, you could start over.

With a sigh, you crumple the thought up, and toss it away. It's no more than wishful thinking. No different than hoping the world would crack beneath your feet, and swallow you whole.

No…

You would have to bear it.

You're less than a mile from the wooden border around town, when you pick up the crunch of boots on snow. Fear prickles down your spine as the blade clicks open in your grasp, your pulse leaping beneath your skin.

The waver of a shadow, moving between the trees in front of you. You go still, squinting, tucking yourself behind one of the thick trunks.

They're alone.

It could be someone from town, but you'd heard there was only one set of boots near the fire they found, the night before. A quick glance over your shoulder - wishing you hadn't split off.

Wishing you had taken the rifle.

They move closer, and your breath catches as they call out.

Not just a greeting, but your name.

A wave of relief washes over you, you know that voice. This figure. The cock of his hip as he stands, the shoulders that slope when he sees you - a hand raised in greeting.

"Heard you leave. Shouldn't be out here by yourself."

The warm glow in your belly chills, at his words.

The acknowledgement that he had been listening souring your mood. It has you bristling at his tone, misreading his worry. 

"I'm fine." You wiggle his knife at him, the blade glinting in the afternoon sun, "Didn't have to come all this way."

In the path you take to skirt around him, you miss the pull of his brow - the frown that forms. The way he breaks into a jog to catch up behind you, staying a few steps back as he does a visual sweep of the woods behind you.

Your strides are long, focused on the crunch of grass beneath your feet. Eyes fixed ahead as he follows, until the tall wooden posts loom up ahead.

Above, and then through. 

If you can just make it home, you think that would be enough. The little house is only a few streets away from the edge.

Something that he hated - how it wasn’t safe enough.

Something that used to please you. 

He’s still following, your silent companion. Chivalrous, you suppose, to make sure you get home okay. Even after everything. 

You’re nearly there - feet taking you up the rickety steps for your porch - when that silence is finally broken.

“You know it ain’t true, right?

For as quiet as his voice is, it still seems to cut through the air, halting your step. Your eyes still fixed on the door ahead of you, but you find yourself stopping - waiting.

“There ain’t anybody else.”

There’s a weight in the way he says it. A confession, layered in the low pitch of his voice.

It has you turning. 

To where he stands, where your shadows meld together. And it’s only now that you see him - the intensity of his gaze. The mis-matched buttons on his coat, the cold that burns at his nose and cheeks until they’re pink. 

He’d been outside for a while.

Searching for you - leaving hat and gloves behind. 

“Where were you last night?” You ask - and he watches you like you’re about to bolt. Palms facing you where they hang at his sides, finger stretching out and then curling.

Reaching up now, to scrub through his hair in frustration - loosening dark, peppered-gray curls. 

“I was there.” Joel admits, and there’s the acid ache of jealousy welling up in your chest. Picturing him with her instead of with you - like in your wishes, your dreams.

“But-” His hands raise, when he sees your expression, “But I just stopped by. I was on patrol with Tommy, you can ask him.”

You want to believe him. But you know you’re both thinking the same thing - thoughts flickering back to William’s suggestion. 

“Or, you can ask Maria. You know she won’t cover for me.” He adds - and that softens you, just a little.

“Why did you trade?”

The moment hangs, where you’re left staring at each other. Your heart gallops in your chest, as he fights an internal battle - before his eyes slide across your cheek, over your shoulder. 

But then there’s the smallest, rueful smile. His dark eyes flipping up to yours.

“Didn’t think it’d be like this.” Joel sighs, moving closer - to the bottom step. Enough to where you could reach out and touch him. Enough to where you see the weariness etched in his face, from where he stayed up all morning to keep watch over you.

“Got some roses for you. They’re at the house.” The words come slowly, “Was gonna give ‘em to you tonight. Wanted to do this right.”

Wanted to do this right.

The words echo in your mind. Pieces of a puzzle starting to fit into place, but you still feel like you’re behind - forever out of step and catching up. 

“That’s why I was out last night. Esther is… rekindling things with her husband.” He manages, “Traded his shift last night for ‘em so they could be together. Went back to pick ‘em up this morning.”

“Roses.” You echo, “Why?”

“Why?” Joel frowns, as hands brace on his hips. Looking flustered, looking like he wishes you could just understand.

And suddenly, you do.

Your own words come slowly now, “For me? For Valentine’s Day?”

Relief crosses his features, those dark eyes going soft.

“Yeah, darlin’.” He smiles, “For you.”

Emotions swirl and surge through you. Relief yes, but also something stronger, something that flutters behind your ribs and threatens to burst free. 

“I didn’t-” You begin, and then stop. A tightness in your throat, as you gaze at him, “I was so worried that you heard what he said, that it was real-”

“I heard.” A dark look crossed Joel’s features, a grit of his jaw, “Heard what you said too. Made me hope, ‘til he opened his mouth again.”

He’s on the top step now, no more than a few feet away. Irritation prickling at him from the memory of you in that tower, tucked away with someone who wasn’t him.

Until his hand is scratching at the scruff of his beard, his look changing.

“But if I misread this-” Joel starts - almost hesitant, if a man like Joel could be.

It makes you want to laugh, after everything. Because you get it, now.

Just how foolish you both had been.

“You didn’t.” You’re quick to cut him off, “You... you heard right.”

There ain’t anybody else…. but you.

It’s always been him.

He kisses you under the eaves of your little porch. 

Stepping into you as your head tilts up - cold fingers tracing your chin, cupping your jaw just as his lips skim against yours.

The lightest brush, as something electric sparks - radiating from that point of contact, skittering down your spine. A soft moan that slips from your throat, before he’s pressing closer - before your hands are slipping, gripping onto his shoulders beneath the thick canvas of his coat.

Everything fades - growing hazy. He’s all you can feel, as your eyes close. Something finally clicking into place, as your lips part for the brush of his tongue. Another moan as he licks into your mouth - stumbling footsteps in both of your haste. 

Until your back is bumping against wood, and his arm is wrapping around you. Surrounding you, leaving you breathless as the frame of the door digs into your hip.

Finally sated, in your need for him. 

And yet more hungry, than you’ve ever been.

The grip of your fingers loosen, as you reach for the door knob. Fumbling for a second before it’s loosening, and you’re stepping back - bringing him with you, your other hand still fisted in the fabric of his coat. 

He groans into your mouth, a hand wrapping around your waist so you don’t stumble, as he follows you inside.

Then there’s low husk of his voice, the barest curve of a smile, “What about your dance, sweetheart?”

Teasing, in the way he spins you around. In the way you’re caged in against the door again, tucked away safely from the other side.

No prying eyes except for his. 

Your answer close to a whine, with the way his fingers find the zipper on your coat, drawing it down.

“I think…” You manage, distracted by the press of his lips against your neck. In the fingers that dip beneath your layers, seeking bare skin.

“I think we can be a little late.”

happy valentine’s day, friends! 💌💕 and especially to elaine - these were such fun prompts! you are the sweetest and I hope you have such a good day!

[carolmunson]

love language five

another sunday another slay -- ft. dad!eddie love language blurbies are back in action -- again, these are just vingettes into a relationship with eddie no chronological timeline, no story -- just mini moments

love language set list

the cry is quiet on the monitor, wayne says he cries just like eddie used to. you both stir under your comforter, neither one of you running on much more than fumes while the baby sleep trains. you both know you're supposed to let him self soothe, but every time -- eddie caves.

"hm," you hum while you push up a bit onto your forearms.

"hm," he says sleepily, rubbing your back to keep you in bed while you feel him start to move. he presses a kiss to your temple before sitting on the edge of the mattress and rubbing his swollen eyes. he sniffs loudly, a sound that makes your shoulders hunch up to your ears before you sink back into the warm sea of your blankets -- the blue blackness of the room. the hum of the fan resettling you while he gets off the bed and heads to the small storage room turned nursery -- 'we'll get a place with two bedrooms before he's one, i promise baby. i'll get us out of here.' 

eddie takes the scrunchie he stole of yours from around his wrist to pull his hair back. nothing quite like the pain of sticky baby fingers wrapped up in your tresses when you want nothing more than to go back to sleep. eddie pouts back at him when he opens the door, seeing his wet tear stained face in the dark through the bars of his crib. "shh, shh," he eases in softly, shutting the door behind him so the dim light from the hallway doesn't shine in. the night light teases a warm yellow glow in the corner -- his eyes adjusting enough to see his son reach for him with grabby hands. a grin pulls on his lips -- his boy. "c’mere little guy," he coos quietly, hoisting him up out of the crib and onto his hip, he checks for anything physical -- no cuts or scrapes, diaper is dry, pajamas untwisted. he pulls the baby close to his chest, feeling his little nose bury into his neck. eddie chuckles airly, letting his free hand run over the boy's small sprouts of hair while he bounces him up and down, soft 'choo, choo, choo's whisper through the tiny room while he does. the soft cries continue into his neck, spit starting to gather at the top of his shoulder. eddie sighs in the darkness of the room, rubbing his back. “think you’re hungry,” he mumbles, taking him to the kitchen. eddie was surprised at how often and how much the baby would eat during his feedings, guilt sliding over his face when he asked you if maybe he’s been overfed.  

it was painful for wayne to explain to eddie that what he thinks is overfeeding is just what regular homes would call normal feeding. babies were supposed to be chubby, big cheeks and bellies, rolls in their thighs. and boy did wayne’s grandson have so many rolls. ‘you should start callin’ him pillsbury, son.’ the kitchen glows green when he turns the light on over the oven, keeping the big light off in case the baby decides to fall back asleep. one handed skills show themselves off to no one while eddie perfectly scoops out enough formula into the donald duck printed bottle on the counter. ounces became easy to measure in dark corners before he met you, so loading up four ounces of warm water without looking was nothing. another quiet cry mixes with the low buzz of the oven light and eddie’s eyes shoot over to the partially open door of the bedroom at the end of the hall. he listens for your footsteps but they don’t come and that’s okay. you’ve really needed this sleep. 

"almost ready," he murmurs softly, kissing the top of his head. he screws the top on and shakes it to mix, sleep still tugging at his eyes while the baby squirms against his chest. he shifts, another one arm wonder of laying him down across the length of his forearm, head in the crook of his elbow. his son looks up at him with big brown eyes that match his own, expanding his baby world with recognition, admiration. his boy. "there we go," he sighs with relief. baby had gotten good at holding the bottle himself, but tired eyes up at eddie's let him know that he wouldn't be able to. the bottle almost drops, eddie making a face to catch it that makes a loud peal of laughter escape your son's lips. “oh is that funny? giving daddy a heart attack?” he coos in a whisper. the squeaks and squeals get a little louder and eddie looks toward the part way open door again, darkness looking back at him. another few bounces and he makes the decision to step outside into the summer air, sitting on the old leather couch he put outside of the trailer before he met you. he looks down at his son, hands reaching toward the bottle while his eyes lull a bit as it’s eased into his mouth. eddie sighs again, the soft sucking mixing in with the sounds outside – crickets hiding in the brush, the way the warm breeze shifts the trees around the park and down the street. the stars aren’t out tonight, they aren’t really any more – too many lights outside in the park, street lights fogging up the shine. they weren’t out the way they were when he was a kid, but every few days eddie tells you about how the baby will know all the constellations before he’s ten. he’ll take him on all the camping trips that his dad never took him on, all the nights in a tent that wayne was too tired to do. he’d teach him how to use the big dipper to find his way home, to find orion’s belt, to look up every once and a while. 

despite the stars, the moon shone bright tonight. a spotlight on the two of them on the couch while everyone else slept. the humid air hugs his skin while he watches his son drink, big baby eyes getting heavy, and thinks about how the moon is seeing him do the thing his daddy never did. but his momma would take him outside on nights like this, right before bed, have him look up at the moon with her and just sing. he finishes his bottle in record time and doesn’t even spit up when he burps. eddie eases him back down into the crook of his arm, settling the empty bottle next to his thigh. his bare back starts to stick to the leather in the warm air, baby yawns but his eyes are still bright even while half open. his tiny hand reaching up to wrap his sticky fingers around his dad’s index as he slides it over his soft chubby cheek. eddie swallows the lump in his throat while he looks down at his baby with glassy eyes. he looks up and baby follows suit, eyes shining under the pale blue glow. eddie starts to sing – slow and warm like the air around them: “i see the moon, the moon sees me, the moon sees the ones, that i wanna see…” “that’s you and mommy,” he explains, thumb smoothing over his pudgy hand. low giggles bubble from him while his finger ends up in his son’s drooly mouth. eyes half closed, breathing steady. “so god bless the moon, and god bless me, and god bless the ones, that i wanna see…”

eddie keeps him there for a few moments, rocking him softly until his eyes shut all the way. he eases his hand away, humming the song over while they get back into the trailer, air conditioning hugging his warm sticky skin and he quietly shuts the storm door. the house is quiet with night. he clicks off the yellow-green light of the oven, the buzzing falling way to just the fan and ac unit humming in the house. the low rumble of the humming makes his son dead weight in his arms, he huffs a quiet laugh. baby gets laid back down in his crib, pressed like a flower with kisses before eddie leaves the nursery. you don’t even stir as he crawls back into bed with you, too lost in a dream, too far away. your form as slack and cozy as your son’s down the hall – sleepy trailer, the napping house. eddie curls up against you, arm wrapping around your soft and warm body that made your family into three five months ago. he kisses your shoulder while you sleep, your slow breaths lulling him into safety. he looks up between the part in the curtains where the moon shines down on him – his old friend. “so god bless the moon, and god bless me,” he whispers. “and god bless the ones, that i wanna see.” 

[hyacintheros]

Brand New City

4. Art Is Dead

|| (Marauders Era Characters x Fem!Reader)

Series Masterlist Previous Chapter

Pairing: Marauders Era Characters x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mean James

Word Count: 2.1k

P.S: I'm sorry it’s been awhile, going through writer's block :c Anywho, let me know what yall think!

“Y/N, darling? You look flush..” Cissa asks her, as the girl is falling into her breakfast. Cissa quickly props her up, feeling her head. “Oh you're going to need some Pepperup Potion, what happened?” The older girl pulls her up and supports her on the way to Madam Pomfrey. She thinks back to last night. 

—♡—

Running into James, her parchments and books fly everywhere. “Sorry, let me help you with tha-”, James’ eyes scans over who he bumped into, retracting his helping hand with a disgusted look.

“You look stupid down there, just where you belong.” He says with a sneer, glaring while she picks her books up.

Standing back up with her things in order, she asks, “What is your issue? No matter how nice I am to you, it's like I've cursed your bloodline with the way you're acting!”

“You're my problem! A Slytherin! How could you call yourself a good person being in that godforsaken house? Don't you know what your house is known for? What they did to my family?” He pours out to her, anger glistening on his face.

“I have don't nothing wrong! My family has done you no wrong. You hang out with my cousin for Merlin's sake! Why does my house make me different? Why do the colours I wear change your perspective?” She yells out, pent up anger spilling with every word.

He steps forward, getting in her face. “Your house, your people, hurt my family, my parents! You and your cult of Death Eaters! Have you no shame?” He huffs in her face, pushing her back.

“Well if you haven't noticed, I'm a muggle! Why would I tangle myself in those ideals? You're literally best friends with my cousin, who is also a muggle, if you haven't noticed!” She pushes back, trying to move away from the wall.

In a burst of impulse, James pulls his wand out, “Aguamenti”. A jet of water douses the girl, soaking her to the bone.

Before she can retaliate, the boy runs away, likely back to his common room. The water-drenched girl heads to the Dungeons, her own common room awaiting her after curfew.

Padding her wet feet into the dorm, she keeps quiet, in hopes of keeping her roommates asleep. 

She's too tired to run a bath, instead opting to change into her pyjamas and sleep with a tower on her pillow to dry her hair.

—♡—

“Oh look at you dear! Come sit on the bed, I'll fetch something to make you feel better.” Madam Pomfrey instructs, running off to her medicine cabinet.

Narcissa helps sit Y/N down, her shaking and shivering preventing her from denying help. “I'll tell your friend Remus so he can tell your professors that you can't come.” The sickly girl nods haphazardly.

The black haired girl leaves back to the Great Hall, making sure to tell Remus at the Gryffindor table before heading back to her own table.

Madam Pomfrey sends her off with a Pepperup Potion to her dorm, telling her to sleep away the cold. 

She wobbles and trips, using the wall as assistance back to the dungeons. Upon entering the common room, it's empty with the fireplace lit. The girl heads up to her dorm, drinking half of the vial.

—♡—

“Well what do you mean she's sick, Remus?” The redhead persists, not noticing any signs of the cold or flu yesterday.

“I'm not sure exactly, one of her friends told me so I could tell the professors, but that's it.” Remus picks up his bag from under the table, waiting for Lily to follow along to class.

“I guess it makes sense why she told you first, you share most classes with her… should we visit her after classes are over?” Lily asks, her eyes glossy, never having seen her cousin sick before.

Remus ponders, wondering if they should give her privacy today. “We'll see after class? Let her rest a bit.” The two part ways to their respective classes, Remus let's Professor Sprout know that Y/N can't attend.

—♡—

Madam Pomfrey had given the girl some Pepperup Potion, sending her down to the Slytherin dorms to get some rest, sending her Professors a notice for her absence. Pomfrey assumed the girl she came with, Narcissa, has already told some friends.

In bed, she feels worse than before, telling herself that you have to feel worse before you feel better,  which in hindsight, probably isn't the right mindset. She pulls the jumper tighter, puffing up her blanket more to get some warmth.

She shakes and shivers, restless and hungry, having not eaten as Cissa caught her right before she could grab breakfast when she sat down. That being said, she's too jello-like to fetch any food. Instead, praying that she'll be able to fall asleep soon.

Turning over to the nightstand, the girl rummages through the drawers, hoping to find any muggle pain killers she'd brought with her. Grabbing the case of painkillers and a small vial of night-time cough syrup, she takes it in hopes of feeling a little better, risking the unknown side effects of it being paired with a magical Potion.

Finally, thirty minutes later, the shivering stops and her mind at ease, falling asleep with a jumper on and two blankets resting on her. A dreamless nap overtakes her, soothing the girl mentally and physically.

—♡—

Severus had heard the news from Narcissa, gathered notes for her in the classes they shared, telling himself to visit her after classes are over. 

By lunchtime, Remus had told Lily, Sirius, and a boy named Peter who had recently joined their little group of friends. James had heard through Lily, a twinge of guilt was felt in his stomach, seeing Lily worried for her cousin. He stuck to his act as a comforting friend for Lily, not wanting to see her too worked up over it, knowing he caused the girl to feel sick.

Sirius and Lily had shoved small snacks into their pockets, waiting to visit Y/N after class, while Remus took notes for her in class, grabbing a book he thinks she'll like from his collection. The three Gryffindors meet up in front of the Slytherin common room, now a little stumped as they don't know the password.

“What are you lot doing standing like duc- Ow!” Lucius gets a good smack on the arms from Narcissa. “Here to see Y/N? I'll let you in.” Cissa says with a charming smile. She looks to the portrait, “Anguis”, the portrait opens up, revealing the common room.

Cissa drops Lucius at the couch, then looking towards the red-robed kids. “Come on then. I'll take you to our room.” She grabs Lily's hand and walks to the girls dorms, the two boys following suite.

Pushing the door open, the sound of gentle, yet disturbed snoring filled the room, like something was blocking her nose. They pile into the room, approaching her sleeping form. Cissa opens the door, hearing a knock.

Severus walks in, parchments in hand, scanning the room of its guests, eyes landing on Lily. “Oh Severus! It's so good to see you.” The red-head says, not having seen him in a while. The Raven haired boy smiles, then greets her. 

“Have you taken notes then? I think you're in some classes that I don't have with her, do you think we could combine notes then?” Remus says to him, seeing the stack of parchments the Slytherin boy carries. 

“Some notes are overlapping, but I think we've got everything.” Severus tells Lupin, knowing they have one or two classes together. They sort through both piles, placing them carefully on her desk.

“Do you think we should let her sleep? Don't want to wake her up..” Lily says to Narcissa, wanting her opinion. “Honestly, I think she's slept about three or four hours now.. We should let her sleep more, heard her rustling in bed all night.”

The older girl let's them stay a little bit to leave some snacks for her, Sirius had munched a little through his during class, so it was mainly Lily who put some food on the bed-side table. They leave her dorm, thanking Narcissa for letting them in.

Cissa toddles back to Lucius, “They're not that bad, you know?” The blonde headed boy scoffs, rolling his eyes at her statement, going back to reading his book. 

—♡—

Feeling terribly warm, being covered and layers of heat, she wakes up sweating, pulling off blankets and jumpers in the hopes of feeling coolness on her skin. Panning around the room, she spots a bun with some spreads. a teeny jar of strawberry marmalade and butter.

It's just past the evening, still an hour or two before dinner. She gladly takes the bun, not having eaten since dinner last night. As she munches, she looks at the desk, seeing a stack of parchments. 

Getting up, the girl surveys the parchments flipping through, obviously being done by two different people. Skimming through the notes and titles, she realises it's class notes. Recognising Severus’ cursive, yet not being able to pinpoint the other person's handwriting, yet still feeling a sense of familiarity.

She goes back to the bed-side table, finishing up the rest of the Pepperup Potion- oddly tasting like strawberry cough syrup.

Bella enters quietly, unsure if the ill girl was still asleep. Gazing at the bed, the curly-haired girl perks up, “Darling, how do you feel? Cissy told me you weren't doing too well..” Y/N smiles, grateful she has people who care, like Cissa and Bella.

“I think it was just a small fever, feel almost better now.. D'you know who left these?” She says, referring to the snacks and parchments. “Cissy said she let your Gryffindor friends visit, plus Severus!” Bella responds, not being in the room when they visited.

The girl hums in acknowledgement, a sort of warmth spreading through her chest at the thought of her friends. Although, the reminder of the red house gives her a bad taste, thinking of how she got sick in the first place.

“What time is it? S'it time for dinner yet?” She pouts, still terribly hungry after munching the small bun. Bella nods and grabs her hand, pulling her to the Great Hall.

—♡—

“Now, you look much better than this morning! Keep this extra potion just in case you feel a little tingle of the cold left, right dear?” Madame Pomfrey hands her a small vial for safe keeping. She thanks the nurse, heading back to her dorm.

Travelling through the halls, a few students still linger before curfew, chit chatting with their friends. Behind her, someone calls out for the girl, “Hey! Did you get the parchments?” Remus, looking oddly dishevelled, says.

“It was you! I did, thank you so much by the way, don't know how I would've know about Uric the Oddball… Are you alright?” She points out how in a hurry he looks.

He shrugs it off, attributing it to a late night jog. “You look much better, glad you're doing well.” Y/N chuckles, thanking him once again for the notes. They quickly catch up about the day, Remus telling her about Sirius’ newest adventures.

Remus looks at his watch, his eyebrows pinching a little, “You better head to the dungeons, curfew is about to hit. Have a goodnight Y/N” Remus quickly says, rushing off.

Confused by his behaviour, the Slytherin instead chooses to think about how he wrote the notes for her.. her cheeks flush pink at the thought! Would he think she's slacking off just because she's sick? How troublesome. She goes back to the dorms, promising herself to study the topics before tomorrow's classes.

Briskly walking back to her dorm, she doesn't want to have another encounter with Potter, fearing he'll make her more than just sick. She ponders on what he said last night. ‘Death Eaters?’ What would make him think that she, a muggle born, would be a Death Eater?

Reaching the common room, she sees Lucius and Narcissa first. Plopping down, Lucius tells her the newest drama of the Slug Club, how terribly artificial the cherry pudding tasted. She laughs, finding his choice of topic amusing. 

Spotting a long, raven-haired boy, she greets Severus, thanking him greatly for the potions notes. “S’not like you needed them.” The boy snaps back. In turn, she pats his shoulder, returning to her dorm to get some studying done. He waves her off, going back to his book. But deep down, he feels his head go lighter at her recognition…

[absolutebl]

What would you consider the most swoonworthy BLs?

Personally. Hummmm. I don't consider myself a swooney person so let me unpack the sunset part of my soul and see what is shines it's rosy glow on....

Top 10 Most Swoonworthy BLs

Color Rush - okay I kinda cheated but he does swoon A LOT and they are very pretty and it's all about color so, yeah, I picked this one.

Our Dating Sim - basically I cooed all the way through this show and always had a grin on my face. I guess what we are discovering is that I find cute soft boys very swoonworthy. (Don't worry, we'll get there.)

Semantic Error - still the prettiest

I Feel You Linger in the Air - gah such a stunning show

Jun and Jun - bite me, I love this one, and every last one of them is swoonable

Kiseki: Dear to Me - it was a HOT mess, emphasis on hot

Love Tractor - just the way this one was filmed, very very swoonish

Minato's Laundromat - Shin and Shin alone has my heart, my bean sprout, THE SHEET SCENE

My Personal Weatherman - yeah, is know, swooning is higher up, I do not care, for me this qualified.

Takara & Amagi - it was just SO PAINFULLY CUTE

Honorable Mention

Love is Science? - BL side, OMG possibly the winnders of this list, but they were only the sides, ABSOLUTELY swoonworthy

[sleepyselkiesims]

Simply Lilac

Name: Piper O'Donovan Age Group: Young Adult Orientation: Confusion. She/They Hometown: City native, recently re-located to Mt. Komorebi. Occupation: World-renowned gardener for vampires Traits: Bro, Loves the Outdoors, and Unflirty Aspiration: Nature Likes: Anything outdoorsey, really Dislikes: Anything you have to sit down and focus to do, and cooking. Gifts: Holly, blue milk, and eggplant (literal) Misc: Likes dirt. Other: No CC whatsoever. In desperate need of better party/formal attire (note: they will be covered in mud eventually)

In Depth: Piper's love for gardening first blossomed when they came across their grandmother's rooftop garden. She didn't realise that some plants came from her grandmother's homeworld, nor did she care. It's all about getting covered in dirt babyyyy

Piper's father took her on a fishing trip one time because he wanted to explore the city, and accidentally got his girl utterly obsessed with it. Yeah, it was pretty clear Piper wasn't cut out for city life at all.

The first thing Piper did when they moved out was get her very own garden! Full of only the weirdest and wildest. Had the watcher placed a bed in there, Piper would never ever leave.

But leave they did! To explore new worlds! Gain new skills! Make every day an adventure! End up on their Watcher's banner image thing!

But none of that backstory or skill building matters anymore, after a tragic skiing accident knocked Piper out, depriving them of her memories. She doesn't even remember how to garden! I bet they probably think they just sprouted up from the earth themself.

Will this unflirty gremlin manage to flourish in her new surroundings? Is this reset exactly what they needed to figure out how to love? I guess we'll find out!

Another thing she doesn't know is her sister Sereia already failed at @samssims bachelorette challenge due to being too ace for Mildred! So there's the double bonus of seeing if the lack of love runs in the family!

Oh, and she's a mermaid. So she might water herself along with the plants.

Expect chaos.

Watcher

Are you comfortable with your pixel person:

Flirting with other contestants? (The bachelorette will have the ‘player’ trait cheated and her boundaries set to no jealousy, so it will not impact your sim’s relationship with her.)

WooHooing other contestants?

Flirting with/and or woohooing NPCs?

Flirting with the host?

Changes to traits via gameplay prompts? (ie. Evil to Good, depending on what your Sim does, or adding traits)

(Humans Only) Becoming an occult?

(Werewolves Only) The Fated Mate mechanic? (If a werewolf ends up winning the challenge, I will cheat out that sentiment)  

@ethicaltreatmentofcowplants If any of these happen I will be delighted

[olderthannetfic]

It has to be one of the biggest scam in stem tubber history that potatoes are somehow viewed as a completely white thing and treating that like an insult. Like, you're calling someone a potato, that's a compliment, have you see then cool shit you can do with those things? Starchy fucking magic. You got a "New world" crop, and whom'st does it get attributed to? White people. Sure I get the history white people have with it, but no denying, so many cultures have adopted and learned to love potatoes, and it's still "white people." Especially since some people think that this makes potatoes bad? White people like them? What a shitty excuse by non-believers in the potato supremacy. Potatoes here, potatoes there, everywhere potatoes. Potato is universal. Potato is love. Our starchy overlords.

In other news: I stuck a sprouting tato in some leftover dirt because I was to lazy to throw it away, and it's literally thriving. Have re-potted it, and added some more dirt. We'll see how it'll do and if it'll create more glorious potatoes.

--

[nothing0fnothing]

The characters in the show do a lot to draw comparisons between Beth and Morphy. The American champion Grandmaster who went too insane to play and ended his own life decades before her. Harry Beltik especially can't help but issue the tragic life of Morphy as a cautionary tale to Beth. Keep taking the drugs and see where you end up.

But is Beth really comparable? He's clearly an idol and an inspiration to her, but was his sickness in any way comparable to hers?

From what we know about Morphy and his struggles with mental illness we're told his suffered from some kind of mania "he'd sit up all night chatting to strangers in cafés then play the next day sharp as a knife" that soon gave way to paranoia, and eventually into some kind of delusion where he "feared people were trying to steal his shoes."

I'm not sure if I missed something, but that doesn't sound like Beth to me. Beth is a drunk and a tranquilliser addict, but she's never really shown to be disconnected from reality or paranoid for no reason. In fact we know she drinks and takes the drugs because she's traumatised and is self medicating to numb the pain.

Nope to me, the paranoid, extroverted anxious chess genius sounds more like Benny. With his extravagant fashion and his extroverted personality.

We know Beth can't play having not had a good night of sleep given how her second match against Borgov played out, shes not staying up all night and and playing like a shark the next day. You know who does stay up all night in the university cafeteria drinking coffee and talking shit with the other tournament players, then plays so well hes in the finals the next day? Benny.

Beth is consistently shown to be introverted, preferring to socialise in small bites than constantly around people. Benny is the one who loves to be surrounded on all sides in a chat about chess and theory, him in the center of course.

Then we have the scene, it's so quick it's barely touched on. Where Beth asks Benny about the knife. And he tells her it's for protection... idk that seems like a peek into the sprouting start of Bennys paranoia to me.

Remember Morphy had an entire chess career before falling off the deep end. He was probably a little bit disconnected from reality as a young man, but he wasn't really noticablely unwell until we'll into his life and his career. Benny is only young himself and showing these minor cracks of paranoia already. Beth is like 23 at the oldest and EVERYONE knows she's not okay. She's struggling openly and publicly and she has already been almost completely incapacitated by her addiction.

Basically Beth isn't Morphy, Benny is.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

How Magic Works in Harry Potter? And More Specifically What is Dark Magic?

So, Dark Magic in Harry Potter's Wizarding World is really vague. Like, it's loosely defined as:

“The Dark Arts, also known as Dark Magic, or Dark Side was a term that referred to any type of magic that was mainly used to cause harm to, exert control over, or even kill people and creatures.”

(From Harry Potter Wiki)

Yet, Spells like Obliviate, are not considered dark, even though they compromise free will and exert control. Diffendo, incendio, decendo, and the like are not dark, even if they can be used to cause harm. The resurrection potion from Voldemort's resurrection is considered Dark Magic even though it itself only heals.

So, what actually is the definition of Dark Magic and what is it? How does it differ from other spells?

Well, I think I have a possible answer.

I started trying to figure out what dark magic is, by collecting what we know about it from the books:

What We're Told

“The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible.”

(Severus Snape, Half-Blood Prince, page 177)

We actually don't have a legal definition for the Dark Arts in the books. Just the words of Dumbledore and Hagrid of how corrupting they are and how Dark Wizards don't feel love. Even though the Malfoys clearly love each other, Snape loved Lily, and Harry is capable of both love and two out of three Unforgivable Curses. So clearly, that isn't the case.

I've seen the fandom try to define the magic by its intention, like in the quote from the wiki above. But, if we look at what spells are defined as dark and those that are not, solely based on their goal and intention — the water gets pretty murky.

As I mentioned before, Diffendo and Incendio can cause harm, and Oblivate always takes away someone's free will. Hurcruxs are considered Dark Magic, but they don't harm anyone in themselves. The creation of them does, but they themselves don't (at least, that's not their intention or main use). Feindfyre, a spell considered Advanced Dark Magic, while can be used to harm beings, is mostly depicted as harming property, hence deviating from the definition as well.

Many jinxes, hexes, and curses are for some reason are not treated as Dark and are treated as legal (reducto, jelly leg jinx, dancing jinx, etc) even though they are only used to cause harm and aren't versatile in their use cases like incendio, for example, that can be used for light or cooking as well.

Most illegal Dark Magic (including the three Unforgivables) are only illegal against unwilling beings, therefore, using Avada Kedavra on a mouse or spider is perfectly legal. Same as using the Imperious Curse on a person who gave you permission to use it. As we see with Moody (Barty) in Goblet of Fire.

So, clearly, the difference between Dark Arts and any other magic isn't in its intended use, since this is far too inconsistent. Besides, casting a Jelly-Leg Jinx is the same as casting an Expelliarmus Spell, you need the same things — wand movement, incantation, and magic.

"Ah, but what about the Unforgivables, you need to mean them, don't you?"

Yes, you do, I'm getting to that:

How Magic Works in Harry Potter's Wizarding World?

So, if it isn't the use of the spells that defines them as dark, maybe it's how they are cast.

After all, it makes more sense to define spells and magic by the how of it and not the what. Especially when new spells keep getting created.

So let's look at the average not dark spell, for our example, we'll take Harry's favored Expelliarmus (even though he casts many other spells and we only see him cast Expelliarmos 12 times in the books).

Like all spells we see, the Disarming Charm requires 3 components to cast:

Intent - What - The intention and will of the caster to disarm their opponent.

Form - How - The way the spell should do it, make the wand fly from the openent's hand.

Energy - Magic - the power to fuel the spell.

Intent is what always exists, it's wishing for your magic to extend your will into the world. This is the main component of childhood accidental magic. It's what makes accidental magic so unpredictable. Like in Prisoner of Azkaban — Harry wished for Aunt Marge to shut up and a glass blew up in her hand (later she blew up too). He didn't consciously choose to do it, since there was no form, just intent and energy:

Outside in the hall, he [Harry] leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. It had been a long time since he’d lost control and made something explode.

(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 26)

The form is defined by the wand movement and the incantation for the spell but can be accomplished by enough focus without (silent and wandless casting). Hence, why silent/wandless casting is harder, without a wand you need to focus on directing your magic to the right task, and without an incantation you need to rely on your mental focus to tell your magic how to accomplish the task.

And magic is just that — the wizard's magic.

Actually, potions in the wizarding world work like this too, except the incantation and wand movement are replaced with ingredients and the brewing process. (The ingredients for potions take a bit after some theories from irl Alchemy that I might delve into at some point)

Most spells, including jinxes and transfiguration spells, work the same way. They have intention, form, and energy and that is all they need to be cast.

But, as we mentioned before, the Unforgivables are different, they aren't just any spell:

“Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy? You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain — to enjoy it — righteous anger won't hurt me for long — I'll show you how it is done, shall I?”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 810)

Emotion as a Component of Spellcasting

That extra oomph missing from Harry's Crotiatus Curse is emotion. I mentioned how emotion is a component of certain magic and effects certain spells in this post. I'll expand on this here.

Accidental magic is affected by emotions, we saw it with Aunt Marge and with Dudley, Harry noticed it himself:

every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry

(Philosopher's Stone, page 44)

Harry's magic reacts to his emotions. It acts up when he is angry or upset and he noticed it even before he knew about the Wizarding World and magic.

“What does a Patronus look like?” said Harry curiously. “Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it.” “And how do you conjure it?” “With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory.”

(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 237)

The Patronus Charm requires happiness as the emotion. The memory is to get the emotion, but when we see Harry casting the charm later, he rarely focuses on a memory. No, he just focuses on feeling happy.

And we see emotion effecting other spells. Remeber Expelliarmos, a spell that doesn't require emotion? Well, the books actually answer on what happens if you cast a spell that doesn't require an emotional component with emotion:

Harry reached his wand just in time. Lockhart had barely raised his, when Harry bellowed, “Expelliarmus!” Lockhart was blasted backward, falling over his trunk; his wand flew high into the air; Ron caught it, and flung it out of the open window. “Shouldn’t have let Professor Snape teach us that one,” said Harry furiously, kicking Lockhart’s trunk aside. Lockhart was looking up at him, feeble once more. Harry was still pointing his wand at him.

(Chamber of Secrets, pages 275-276)

Harry casts Expelliarmos at Lockhart when he's furious, that anger, that's what causes Lockhart to stumble back. A regular Expelliarmos disarms, and an angry one also pushes the opponent back.

Harry made up his mind in a split second. Before Snape could take even one step toward him, he had raised his wand. “Expelliarmus!” he yelled — except that his wasn’t the only voice that shouted. There was a blast that made the door rattle on its hinges; Snape was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall, then slid down it to the floor, a trickle of blood oozing from under his hair. He had been knocked out.

(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 361)

An emotional Expelliarmos can even knock someone out completely. Snape's wand wasn't even disarmed.

And of course, the unforgivables require emotion, they require the true desire to harm — anger:

“I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”

(Deathly Hollows, page 502)

So, we can see very clearly that emotion affects magic. Some spells require it (like the Patronus Cham and the Unforgivable Curses) and even spells that don't require it, change when casting them with emotion.

A Clear Mind as a Component of Spellcasting

But, when I started thinking about emotion as a component of spellcasting, I realized there was another one — A clear mind.

“Only Muggles talk of ‘mind reading.’ The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter . . . or at least, most minds are. . . .” He smirked. “It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in his presence without detection.”

(Order of the Pheonix, pages 530-531)

Occupancy requires the opposite of the Crutiuatus Curse. It requires shutting down your emotions and clearing your mind alongside the three basic components I mentioned above.

“Clear your mind, Potter,” said Snape’s cold voice. “Let go of all emotion. . . .” But Harry’s anger at Snape continued to pound through his veins like venom. Let go of his anger? He could as easily detach his legs. . . . “You’re not doing it, Potter. . . . You will need more discipline than this. . . . Focus, now. . . .”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 535)

It requires focus and letting go of emotion. This is exactly why Harry struggled so much with Occlumancy because he is a very emotional character (mostly angry).

I'd argue magic like Legilemancy and Divination also require a clear and focused mind. Along with Fiendfyre:

“Fiendfyre-cursed fire—it’s one of the substances that destroy Horcruxes, but I would never, ever have dared use it, it’s so dangerous—how did Crabbe know how to—?”

(Deathly Hollows, page 537)

Hermione calls this dark curse incredibly dangerous, and for good reason, it's incredibly hard to control. So fickle and hard to control it killed Crabbe who cast it in that scene. It makes Fiendfyre seem closer to Occlumancy than to the Unforgivables in how it is cast, since it requires a focused mind to control it, and not to become emotional.

So what does all this have to do with the Dark Arts?

Well, simple, clearly magic in the Harry Potter universe can be divided into three categories:

Regular - spells that require only intent, form, and energy, like Expelliarmos, Alohamora and Diffendo. Almost all spells fall into this category.

Emotional - spells that require a strong emotion to power them besides the three components of regular magic. Like the Patronus Charm and the Unforgivable Curses.

Focused - spells that require a clear and focused mind besides the three components of regular magic. Like Occlumancy and Fiednfyre.

Great, so we have some spell categories, but Dark Magic doesn't really fit in any of them, as all three categories include spells considered legally dark. Well, like with anything in Harry Potter, I decided to go into the linguistics of the word "dark" in the English language.

Well, if we go back enough, the word "dark" comes from the Proto-Indo-European word "dʰerǵʰ" meaning (among other things): "firm", "strong", or "robust". This can definitely reference the strong emotion required for certain spells.

But what really sold me on this, is the linguistic origin of the word "light", which came from the Proto-Indo-European word "lewk", meaning: bright, to shine, and to see. It was used interchangeably with the word "beh" that is used to mean: "bright" or "to glow" and in literature used as the word "focus" or "clear".

Conclusions

So, my headcanon/theory was that dark magic, once upon a time just referred to the magic that required a strong emotion. Over the years with language evolving and words changing their meaning, and political agenda it became the dark magic we are familiar with from the books. A lot of how dark magic is treated seems to be political though and has very little to do with the actual components of the magic or magical theory.

The fact the Unforgivables were only defined as such and outlawed in 1717 suggests that the views the characters in the books have on dark magic are fairly recent. It means that Dark Magic, at least, by the time the books take place is more of a legal definition than a magical definition. It's basically an umbrella term to define harmful magic the ministry outlaws or regulates.

Honestly though, if I lived in their world I'd be more concerned with love potions than with supposedly dark petty jinxes, but, what can one do.

[colourful-void]

Thoughts on Splatfests Affecting the Next Game

so we've only had two so far, but i think the way these wins are framed in game and how they're treated narratively is important in terms of making splatoon 4 predictions.

The way that Final Fest results affect the future of splatoon is Culturally and In Universe, while also having out of universe elements.

As the playerbase, we repersent the opinions of the Inkfish! And when a choice wins, that means that in canon, that choice is more popular. that is how it works. so when it comes to final fests, what does that mean?

For spaltoon one to two, it became so that Marie was more popular than Callie. And they both went off on solo careers, etc etc. The effect of Splatoon in universe was Marie's popularity, which influenced Callie's mindset in Splat 2, etc. Out of universe, it meant Marie was liked more, so they put her in the story mode as your guide. Callie is still central, she gets a cool boss fight. Callie as a concept does not cease to be, nor is she suddenly like, hated. She's just slightly less popular.

For splatoon two to three, it became that Chaos was more popular than order. And culturally, that became the case for Inkfish! The entire Splatlands didn't suddenly become (inuniverse) bcs chaos won, it was already a chaotic place and that love made it become more popular. Yes, out of universe it influenced the setting and design of Splatsville, but in universe, the splatlands have existed for ages. We still got side order DLC, the entire concept of any order wasn't entirely thrown out the window.

In both cases, it's not that things took a massive change from how they were or suddenly sprouted into existence, its just that, that's how people felt, thats what they trended towards. Chaos winning didn't make all of Inkcadia into a lawless wasteland with no structure at all. Marie winning didn't kill Callie.

We can't be sure of what'll happen with Splatoon four, but I think some predictions aren't really in line with whats happened before. A remake? that's a whole new stucture, and also just like. not really an ideal selling strat for a game like this? a turf war/legends arceus game? I can't be sure on that, but so much of splatoon's identity is wrapped up on it's EXCELLENT use of pop culture and how well it aligns to our real lives and the modern world. I trust the team wouldn't do that.

But i think we'll see in splatoon four that the inkfish of today start to care more about their history and their past. While some people have pointed out how important it is to live in the moment, and look to the future, i dont think acknowleging the past is a bad thing! i think splatoon four could do some really cool stuff with inkling and octoling histories while still being a modern game. Having everyone think more about how they got here, that's big for inkling culture! i like that!

and hey, maybe I'm wrong. but i think most of all, I'm jsut happy yo see where it goes. so i hope we all can enjoy what comes next together!

[ladykailitha]

Buckle up, there is a topic I want to rant about today. A few days ago this came across my dash and it reminded me of someone I knew from high school.

There was this kid at my high school everyone thought was a douche. He was good looking, popular, could sing, dance and play an instrument (I think it was guitar, but I don't remember it's been 20 years). He was getting lead roles in the plays as a sophomore (we didn't have freshman in our high schools out here in hick Utah where the running joke has always been we're behind the times by at 20-40 years), he got duck classes because he was getting acting jobs while in school.

We'll call him MH because those were his initials.

He was in my biology class and our science teacher had four groups of four debate creationism vs evolution (you shouldn't debate established fact but whatever). Two groups would be for creation and the other two would be for evolution.

I picked creation because I was a contrary child and wanted to debate the opposite of my actual views. (I was like thatTM) He picked evolution.

We got up and gave our arguments. Now our teacher wasn't a stupid man, stupid assignment aside. He knew his classes. He knew teenagers. He gave them two voting slips. One for who liked the best. Popularity wise. And the other for who gave the best arguments.

Now for some added context, this is Utah. Mormonville. Creation is basically hardwired into our psyche from birth. The chances of EVOLUTION winning was as likely as a pig sprouting wings.

But I was not well liked in high school, I was an epileptic, ADHD, anxiety riddled nerd. So MH's team got the votes for both the best argument and the most popular, because fuck me that's why. (And yeah, this sounds like my anxiety talking, but no these little shits told me that to my face.)

I can't remember how long exactly it was. Long enough that I got over it, but fresh enough I knew what he was talking about. But shortly after this shit show we have a fire drill. It was cold, it was miserable and I was ready to start cussing for the warmth.

MH comes up to me and the two friends I was with and tells me "Hey, I think it was crap that you lost. Your team had the better argument and was better articulated. I just wanted to let you know." And then melted back into the crowd of students.

I didn't think he knew what my name was, if I'm honest. But he came up to me and told me that I should have won. Even my friends were shocked. Now of course I was bitter about losing, because how could I not be? But the fact that the hottest guy in school came up to me and said that? I felt vindicated.

From that day on though? I was a staunch MH supporter. I was tell people that he was probably shy and very busy (you know with the whole acting jobs thing).

TL;DR: high school douche goes out of his way to tell me that I should won the on merit side of a stupid debate and I find out not a douche after all.

So why do I bring this up? Because of Steve Harrington. He has literally everyone saying he was an ass in high school. That he has to atone. But other than some instances where it was absolutely warranted we never really see Steve be a douche. Just typical teenager shit. And every time he does something "bad" he apologizes for it.

But all his friends are still giving him shit about it three years later. But not Jonathan who was an actual fucking criminal. Like he didn't have develop the sex pictures if he was looking for evidence of the thing that took his brother. I've developed film. The negative, while small gives you a pretty good indication of what would develop.

And yeah Nancy forgave him, but no one asked Steve if he forgave him. Because he was in those pictures, too. Steve was just as violated as Nancy was. And if the scene we see is any indication, Steve was probably more predominately featured than Nancy was, because he was on top. Meaning he would have covered her most of the time.

So no, I don't think Steve was a bully. No, I don't think he has anything to atone for that he hasn't already atoned for in fucking spades. I think he was always that same lovable dork he always was and Nancy had nothing to do with his "hero arc". But I have my own thoughts about Nancy that are way too long for this already massive dash stretcher.

/rant end

[crackishincorrecthp]

*When Harry "dies" he recieves a third option, which is go back in time and he does that. And when is time for old Voldy to return-* Harry: Cedric, I would love if you could win this shit, but I have to take this fucking thing alone or else you'll die. I'm not even kidding. Been there, done that and it wasn't fun for either of us. Cedric: Cedric: So, you used a Time Turner? Harry: Nah, I died at 17 and recieved 3 options; move on, go back to the moment I died or go back in time...I chose go back in time, sounded more fun and I could fix some shit up. Cedric: Cedric: Okay, I'll just send the red sparks for me then...Good luck, I guess? Harry: I'll need that. *In the graveyard, after Voldy has a body* Harry: *Stuns every Death Eater* Harry: It's just me and you now, Tommy. Voldemort: What the actual fuck? How did you break free?! Harry: That's something that should be between me and Merlin. Harry: And oh, btw? I know about the Horcruxes and I destroyed almost all of them. Harry, putting his own wand on his head: Avada Kedavra. Voldemort: Voldemort, to Harry: Potter? Voldemort, to his Death Eaters: What the fuck just happened? And why are you all useless bitches still stunned if he just committed suicide?! Harry: Because I'm not dead, motherkiller! Voldemort: What the fuck?! Harry: Now you can be killed, but for now I'm just gonna stun you and go back to Hogwarts with you and your little fucked up minions. We'll see from there. *Back to Hogwarts* Harry: I'm back with a few gifts, motherfuckers! The students: The professors: The parents: Fudge: Are those —? Harry, pointing to the DEs: Death Eaters, yes. Harry, pointing to Voldemort: And that's Tommy. Harry, pointing to Pettigrew: Oh and that's the traitor, the one who really got my parents murdered by Tommy, Peter Pettigrew. Fudge: Tommy? Harry: Yeah. Harry, seeing everyone's confusion: Oh, sorry, my bad! I forgot that not everyone knows Voldemort's real name... Harry, pointing to Voldemort: That's Voldemort. Everyone: *Screaming, panicking, fainting, throwing up* Harry: Oh, come on! He's fucking stunned and I could just kill him right now infront of everyone if that makes you all feel better! Fudge: Please, do that. I, as Minister of Magic, give Harry Potter a special permission to use a Unforgivable Curse to kill the one know as Lord V-Voldemort. Harry: Fine. Harry, pointing his wand to Voldemort: I guess it's bye forever now, Tommy. See you never. Avada Kedavra. Everyone: *Relief sighs* Moody/Crouch Jr: NOOOOOO! MY MASTER! Harry: Oh, forgot about you, honestly. That's not Alastor Moody, guys! That's actually Barty Crouch Jr on Polyjuice! Snape: And how do you know that? Harry: I just know. If you don't believe me you can wait until the effect of the potion is gone. Snape: Oh, we will. Harry: Okay, but can I please go to sleep then? I'm fucking tired. Dumbledore: Of course you can, my boy. Harry: Please, grandpa Dumbles, I'm not biologically yours, so don't call me that. Dumbledore: Snape: McGonagall: Flitwick: Sprout: Hermione: *facepalms* Hermione, grabbing Harry: Ron and I will take Harry away now, everyone! He's clearly exhausted... *Gryffindor common room, after Ron & Hermione dropped Harry into the boys dormitory* Ron: Hermione? Hermione: Uh? Ron: Did Harry really called Dumbledore 'Grandpa Dumbles' and got away with it? Hermione: Pretty much, yeah.

[okminer07]

Slave to the Light Pt 7

A Baldur's Gate fanfiction

Lorelai stared up at Gale, shocked and confused, "What do you mean under different circumstances? what possible circumstances are there that would make you travel with a fucking vampire!?"

The vampire, or Astarion as the others seemed to call him, merely scrunched up his nose at her remarks. Gale's eyes fell away from her, clearly pondering something.

"Well, you see" he started, "All of us here happen to be dealing with the same problem that we are all in dire need of rectifying".

She raised a brow, "What kind of problem?"

Gale pursed his lips, as if debating whether he should continue, "All of us.... currently are hosts to illithid parasites".

Lorelai's eyes widened, "What?"

"We basically have these worm-like fuckers swimming around in our brains" chimed in Karlach.

"No- I know what an illithid parasite is, but...." she looked the man before her up and down, "Shouldn't you have.... transformed?"

"Now that, is something we are all wondering about" said Gale, "None of us have shown any real signs of... well, turning into tentacled monsters. So, since we have seemingly been blessed with spare time, we're looking for a cure. Hence the give of us being together."

Lorelai stiffened, "there's more of you?"

"Yes, but you'll meet them later, that is... if you decide to stay." over Gale's shoulder, she saw Karlach grinning down at her.

"You're offering to let me stay? Why?"

Gale chuckled, "Well you're clearly in need of some assistance, and I dare say your presence wouldn't cause much of a hassle" he leaned in closer, lowing his voice, "And to be honest, I don't completely trust Astarion to not.... forget himself."

"I can hear you; you know." grumbled Astarion.

Lorelai looked down. Being with these group seemed to be presenting more risks by the second. First, a vampire, and now illithid parasites. But what about the number of risks if she went it alone? and as dangerous as these big folk might be, they could be of use to her.

She met Gale's eyes again, "Alright, I will take you up on your offer" her gaze hardened, "But if I see any of you begin to sprout tentacles I'm out of here. And if your..... companion tries anything-"

"We'll make sure he doesn't."

"Well, if he does, I won't hesitate to teach him a much harsher lesson than I did last night, perhaps with something much sharper."

Astarion let out a snort of laughter that made her blood boil, "That's cute."

Lorelai's fingers tighten around the needle, wishing she could shove it right through one of those awful red eyes.

Gale straightened, clapping his hands together, "Right, now that's sorted, how abouts we give you some alone time?" the moment he had finished his sentenced, Astarion turned on his heel and quickly made his way out of the tent, shooting Lorelai one last glare.

"That means you too Karlach. I think you may have overstayed your welcome" Gale held the tent flap open and gestured for the Tiefling to follow suit.

"Can't I stay? I know it's your tent and all... but come on" she looked down at Lorelai, "I can stay right?"

Lorelai thought for a moment. She had been deeply looking forward to not being surrounded by towering figures and was about to ask her to leave, but once again Karlach was giving her that hopeful grin.

She sighed, "Yeah sure, you can stay. But just be quiet, alright?"

Karlach beamed at her before smirking at Gale who rolled his eyes before leaving.

To her surprise, the Tiefling was able to stay quiet. She had simply sat herself down and watched Lorelai eagerly as she continued to work. It began to feel a little weird though after twenty minutes went by and Karlach was still staring. Lorelai kept looking up from her work only to be met with the same intense gaze.

After the tenth time of looking over her shoulder to see if there was any change in the Tiefling's behavior, she resigned herself to fully focusing on making something wearable.

Hard to say how much time had gone by when she had finally locked the final stitch and held up her handiwork: A rather small top and a pair of short and baggy pants, both an obnoxious shade of purple.

"Hey, not bad." said Karlach.

Lorelai sighed, "Do you mind staring at something else for a moment?"

"Oh fuck, yeah sorry."

The ground shifted as Karlach spun herself around, so her back was to her.

Lorelai threw the articles of clothing on the ground before going to remove the sorry excuse for a dress she was currently wearing. She had managed to pull it up over her legs before she gasped out, being hit with a stinging pain the moment she tried to pull it up over her back.

"You alright?"

"Fine" she grunted, gritting her teeth. The fabric must have fused itself to her wounds. She groaned before taking hold of her dress again and quickly tossed it over her head. Her back stung with pain that slowly subsided once she had ripped the fabric away from it. Tossing it aside, she reached down and pulled on her newly made shirt and pants.

She poked her head around the pile before stepping out. Karlach peeked over her shoulder before turning back around. She looked Lorelai up and down before an amused smile appeared on her face. The Tiefling let out a snort of laughter, looking away and covering her mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing" she lied; her eyes still upturned, "Just looks a little big on you."

Lorelai rolled her eyes, walking over and heaving herself up onto the plate to snatch up another grape, glaring at it as if it had been the one to make the remark.

She leapt down, tossing the half-eaten fruit aside and began heading for the exit.

"Where are you headed?"

"Outside."

"What for?"

Lorelai groaned, "Does it matter?"

"Can I come with?"

"I don't care."

She continued forward, stepping out into the open. She couldn't help but tense slightly at the sight before her. Four other massive tents were set up in the distance, all of them different colors and had an assortment of items outside their entrances. They all surrounded a campfire that at the moment was nothing but burnt wood and charcoal. But that wasn't what had bothered her, what bothered her was the towering figures meandering around the tents. She could feel through the ground the slight quiver from their steps from here, all of them, lumbering around like big oafs the lot of them.

Lorelai shook her head, focusing back on the task at hand: arming herself. It only took her a moment of looking around before she spotted a patch of trees to the east. She began to make her way over there, her eyes fliting around to look back at the big folk and know where each one of them was at the given moment. She kept an especially close eye out for that vampire, even though he shouldn't have been able to be out in the sun. Being apparently apart of this little team, he was almost certainly still lurking around somewhere.

She had noticed Karlach had left the tent, though she had reframed from following her and had instead gone over to what Lorelai assumed was her own tent. There didn't seem to be too much of a reason to keep an eye on that one, she seemed docile enough.

The grass began to reach up past her waist as she trudged into the beginnings of a forest. The sun was shining down through the many leaves of the trees, illuminating their shape and color, which was exactly what Lorelai had been hoping for.

Her pace slowed as she scrutinized each tree she passed, looking from its leaves to its branches to its trunk. There was a good deal of oak and dogwood, both much too knotty to work with. There was also some hickory, too fragile to moisture, and some elm, too likely to crack. Then she spotted just what she had been looking for, a yew tree.

She hurried over to it, looking over it once more. Yes, it would do very nicely. Looking up, she pinpointed the lowest branch that was the right thickness before she dug her fingers beneath the crevices of the bark. Her muscles strained but ached with an almost pleasant and familiar burn as she scaled up the trunk.

When she was perpendicular to the branch she wanted, she began to shimmy closer over. Securing her feet in the groves of bark, she reached out and took hold of one of the smaller branches. With some effort, she managed to snap it off the main branch, almost losing her balance as she did so. her hands scrambled to grab back onto the bark, stick in hand that she surveyed with a nod.

The trek down was much easier, only made tad harder, having to tow down a stick nearly as long as she was tall down with her.

She jumped the rest of the way back to the ground. Holding the stick now like a great misshapen staff, she looked along the forest floor. Now... all she needed was- that might do.

She bent down and picked up a jagged rock, turning it over in her hand. It would have to suffice. Heading back over to the yew tree, she sat herself down with both rock and stick in hand. Placing the stick on her lap, she turned it over a few times before finding the sharpest side of the rock and getting right to work.

[7sevenrings7]

Young and Menace - Chapter 1 Snippet

Hyperfixating on Hazbin Hotel? It's more likely than you think!

This is a snippet from "Young and Menace" - a reader insert fanfic pairing the reader (AFAB, she/her pronouns) with Alastor, Lucifer, and, eventually, Lilith.

Some at the same time? We'll see...full first chapter to be posted to ao3 next week.

You arrive in Hell with no memory of who you are, where you've come from, or how you got there. Oh well. Might as well settle into your afterlife. There's just one problem...

You're still alive.

Note: This x reader does NOT use Y/N - you are referred to as "Liv," but this is recognized as a nickname as you do not recall your actual name.

“Alright, my ace in the hole.” Rosie’s voice carried before becoming clear as she cast open the door. You shifted nervously as you sat on your bed. “Meet my other ace in the hole!”

Alastor was the worst demon you had seen yet. If your fear had been any less, you would have been able to scream.

As it was, you could only stare at him as if he were the personification of a train wreck you could not tear yourself away from.

It was his smile. A creepy, cheek-ridden smile. Yellowed teeth as large and as pointed as knives sat between lips spread what seemed painfully tight. His skin was darker than Rosie’s with eyes that were as red as blood and just as cold. He might have been Hell itself with how red dominated his person from his fluffy hair to his evening attire. What could have been ears framed two small antlers sprouting straight from his head. 

Later, much later in the quiet of the night still shaking from this very encounter, you would realize that his smile never wavered.

It did tremble, however - at least when he first saw you. The possibly-but-not-definitely-not-ears on his head went flat and you saw what seemed to be the shadow of radio dials turning instead of those red eyes. 

But then you blinked and Alastor’s smile was relaxed and warm…

...and growing larger as he approached you swinging a short-staffed microphone in his hand.

It, like the rest of him, was red.

“So…you’re alive.”

Rosie had implied Alastor had a unique voice. “Like butter!” she had claimed. Only it was far less sweet and far more static and sickening charm laid on thicker than thick. 

“I…seem to be,” you admitted, quietly. Almost reverently. 

Tilting his head at an angle too sharp to be normal, Alastor chuckled. “Maybe you were a comedian, my dear girl. No theories? No rogue memories flitting around in that pretty head of yours?”

By the time he finished speaking, he was immediately in front of you with a crimson-clawed hand patting your head patronizing and popping. 

You didn’t like it. Any of it. He reminded you of a cheap car salesman. 

“I don’t know who I am or how I got here if that’s what you’re asking,” you said, trying to ward the fear from your voice. “I remember life on Earth but…nothing stable. Nothing…nothing that tells me anything about myself.”

“Curious,” said Alastor, rounding you with eyes that were sharp as they were searching. “Very curious.”

“So, you remember that princess that I was telling you about, Liv?” asked Rosie. “The one with the hotel? ‘Member?”

Squinting as if trying to physically see the memory, you grimaced. “Um…it was…Lucifer’s daughter?”

“Bingo!” Rosie shouted. “Well Alastor helps run the place and it just got HUGE upgrades thanks to Mr. Big Man in Damned Demand. I was thinking…since they’re all about redemption…maybe they could help you more than I could.”

With a pause, Rosie turned to Alastor. “I’ve tried it all, Alastor. I don’t know how Liv ended up here but it was something bad done by something even badder. I thought she’d remember something by now but…zilch. And it’s not safe for her to stay here. I’ve done what I could to keep rumors from making it to the mill but she’s a very amnesiac steak in a town of ravenous wolves. Least there’s you at the hotel. She won’t worry for safety.”

At first you thought Alastor meant to remain silent. He merely stood staring at you with those terrible eyes, fingers shifting his microphone staff back and forth. 

But then he glanced to Rosie. 

“If there’s anyone who could get this poor soul her memory back, it’s Charlie.”

Weird, you thought. He kind of sounded sincere there.

Rosie hugged Alastor by his side before releasing him to clap her hands.

“Thank you, Alastor! Oh, you don’t know how happy I am that you’re back! Things are gonna be changing around here.”

Your heart might have stopped when a curl of Alastor’s lip revealed grayed gums. 

“Oh,” he said, static simmering around him. “Yes, they are.”

[strawheart-pirate]

Revelations

Donquixote Rosinante x gn!Reader

December 13th 2023 Words: 888 CW: SFW, Fluff, modern AU, established relationship, food, Rosinante’s nickname is Cora or Corazon

It was Christmas Day and that meant your brother-in-law was coming to dinner. You were worried because he had high expectations and your partner... well, he's a bit clumsy. Let's see if Corazon's wish for a perfect Christmas dinner comes true.

"We'll have smoked salmon with beetroot and vodka crème fraîche as an appetizer, roast turkey with lemon, parsley and garlic as the main course, with scalloped potatoes and cacio e pepe Brussels sprouts as a side dish. And for dessert, we'll have vanilla-infused panna cotta with a pomegranate glaze. How does that sound?" Cora smiled as he read the Christmas menu to you.

"Sounds wonderful, how can I help?" you asked as you tied on your apron.

"You can start with the potatoes while I stuff the turkey."

"All right."  You smiled and began to peel the potatoes. You had a certain routine in the kitchen, so it was no big deal to clean and thinly slice the potatoes. Occasionally you watched Cora struggle with the turkey. You could see that he was very focused on what he was doing because his tongue stuck out a little, and that brought a warm smile to your face.

The two of you worked in sync and finished the preparation in no time. You had already prepared the plates for the starters and dessert, so nothing could go wrong with those dishes. Meanwhile, Cora was already putting the turkey in the oven, since it would take the most time to cook.

"All done, thank you." Cora came over and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

"Anytime." You smiled as you set the table.

The afternoon passed in eerie harmony. Cora didn't set anything on fire or trip over his own feet. It was suspicious. An hour before Doflamingo arrived for dinner, you showered and dried your hair. You were about to put on your favorite Christmas sweater when you heard a loud bang coming from the kitchen. You threw your sweater on the bed, ran downstairs, and found Cora on the floor with the still-raw turkey in his lap and shards all around him. The glass of the oven door was shattered, and he looked like a beaten puppy.

"Oh dear ... What happened?" You helped him up and wiped the broken pieces off him. He placed the turkey on the counter.

"I ... I checked on the turkey and ... noticed that the oven wasn't on at all and somehow ... the door ... broke and I got scared and ... the turkey ... somehow ... flew right into my lap." Corazon stood there stunned, looking at the broken oven door.

You looked at the clock. "It's not your fault, Cora. We'll find a solution," you said, reassuring the big man with a gentle hug. "Go get ready so you're ready when your brother arrives, and I'll find a solution.

"Why is everything closed on Christmas Day?" You complained as you drove around town trying to find a place to get something to eat. After cleaning up the mess while Cora got ready, the two of you decided to get takeout for the main course. The turkey, potatoes, and Brussels sprouts were still raw, and there simply wasn't enough time to get everything ready before Doffy arrived. So, you drove aimlessly and frantically around town while Cora waited for his brother.

After hours of searching for food, you pulled into your driveway and hurried into the house with the food. You were relieved to find Cora and Doffy in the living room, chatting amiably and drinking wine as you sneaked the containers into the kitchen before going to greet your guest.

"I'm back. Hey, Doffy." You hugged your brother-in-law and winked at Cora. "Shall we eat?"

"Ah, finally. I almost had the feeling that Corazon was hiding something from me, but there you are. Fufufufu." Doffy laughed, and I saw Cora start to sweat.

"Oh, are you worried, Doffy?" You teased.

"Of course, I am. I just want what's best for my family." He grinned wickedly.

After serving the prepared starters, you sat down at the table and began to eat. The salmon was delicious, and you complimented Cora on the vodka crème fraîche he had prepared. Even his brother didn't make any snide comments about the food, he even seemed to like it. But you could never be sure because he never took off his sunglasses. You grabbed the empty plates and went into the kitchen to prepare the main course. You were so nervous as you arranged the food neatly on the plates, even adding fresh parsley to make it look home-cooked. You straightened your back and went back into the dining room to serve the plates.

Everyone dug into the warm and delicious smelling food, but you found it hard to eat because you were so nervous. You watched Doffy's every move, and after he took a few bites of his chicken and sides, you were finally able to relax and eat your share without tension.

That was until he spoke.

"Why does this food taste like KFC?"

Silence. You felt like you'd been caught out. Who were you kidding? He was Doflamingo and you thought you could fool him with cheap fried chicken from KFC? Pathetic…

"Because..." You were about to spill everything to him and explain it when Cora interrupted you with a questioning look on his face.

"Wait, how does your gourmet palate know what KFC tastes like?"

The look on Doffy's face was the best Christmas present you could have asked for.

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[dyrewrites]

Order In! Questionnaire tag game

Cooked up by @dearunreliablenarrator over here

I am leaving this one OPEN because I am curious about everyone's answers...so if you see this, do it. =P

--

This is a fun one I had to be specifically picky about, on account of so many of my characters not eating 'food'.

We'll be using 'Pale Blood' characters, wherein two of them absolutely eat normal things.

Delmas, Den, Odea and Ron...take it away.

Oh man did they take it--got long so under a cut.

what is one comfort meal that'll change your whole mood for the day?

"You feed this big, hot piece of--"

"Den."

"I can't help it, he's--fine. You feed him, what was it called? The stuff with the noodles and meat and mushrooms."

"Min throws one fit and the whole pack's gotta shame my shrooms..."

"Stroganoff, Den, that's the name."

"Yeah, that. Give my sweet fang here some of that and he's putty the whole day."

"Is that why you hugged me yesterday?"

"Nah, that was all you, Ron. You're very huggable."

"Who invited the ghoulfriend..."

"Aw, look at the arm candy, thinking he gets a say in where I go."

"Aw, and look at the abomination, thinking it can contribute to a discussion about food. Eat any good dead people lately?"

"Plenty, precious. In fact, just this morning I ate your mo--"

"Nope. Nuh-uh. Not doin' this. Question over."

what is an experience (good or bad) that has turned you off or on to a food completely?

"Ever see a witch fish synth-beef out of a sink drain...and eat it?"

"Once. I did that once, and if you two hadn't been crashing on my fucking couch you wouldn't have seen shit!"

"What about something you saw him eat, hon, maybe go there instead of shrieking."

"Oh, we can't discuss what I've seen Den eat or this little interview will get decidedly more explicit."

"Wait, what was the question?"

"Speak of the entree."

"What I miss. Why's my boyfriend laughin'...Odea, did you break my wolf?"

if you could eliminate one piece of produce, meat, dairy or sweets off the earth what would it be?

"I would like to eliminate dairy, for the sole purpose of making my dear, sweet coworker here less--"

"Ron, if you finish that sentence I'm feeding you to my cats."

"Does the witch not do dairy? Del, Del, why didn't you tell me she can't handle dairy. Even synth? I need ice cream. Or just cream, can we get heavy cream?"

"Den, no."

"But maybe it would loosen her up to be horribly embarrassed and it would please me. Don't you want to please me?"

"I'm not answerin' that. But I will answer the question; brussel sprouts. Even the real thing is like eatin' an old shoe."

and dessert is normally saved for last, but if you could what would you order for your entree at a restaurant?

"Cheesecake."

"Hon, no."

"Hon, yes, get this witch some cheesecake!"

"Three tiered chocolate brownie cake..."

"Oh and I'm being unreasonable with my fantasy dessert?"

"You know you'd be eating it alone, babe."

"I'm aware and I want it."

"I'd eat it with you, Del."

"Thank you, Ron...but no, it's all mine."

and if you'd like a refill on your drinks or a to go box, here are some extras...

what are some food fusions that should never be mixed? "Blood and citrus...it clings." "What, did you have a bloodbag with an OJ chaser, how do you know that?" "Kinda. Whoever I drank left a bad taste, so I grabbed an orange to wash it out. It did not."

Cooking is a life skill, why haven't you started learning yet!? "Oh, but I have." "No, please, don't get him started. You'll be here all night with the 'oh, woe is me a halfie what needs foods and bloods, having to learn to cook just to survive...'" "The fuck, Odea." "What, I've heard it so many times. I can't again. Please." "Fine, maybe I won't cook you that lasagna you've been beggin' me for all week. See how you enjoy my stories then." "No, no, I'm sorry. I love your story! Tell it again, please, please?" "Nope, blood's been spilled and I ain't cookin' you shit. The chef is off duty." "Wait, does that mean I get no omelette tomorrow with all the bits of heart meat cut into cute little heart shapes?" "Mm, of course you get your breakfast, sweetness...you didn't mock my cookin'." "I didn't either! I mocked the reason. C'mon, Del, please?" "Nope." Is there a smell that reminds you of something you never want to remember? "Salt and citrus and no, I ain't sayin' why." "Fucking glittershit's why." "Den." "Right, right, not saying."

->blank for you below!<-

what is one comfort meal that'll change your whole mood for the day?

what is an experience (good or bad) that has turned you off or on to a food completely?

if you could eliminate one piece of produce, meat, dairy or sweets off the earth what would it be?

and dessert is normally saved for last, but if you could what would you order for your entree at a restaurant?

and if you'd like a refill on your drinks or a to go box, here are some extras...

what are some food fusions that should never be mixed? what food spot are you gatekeeping and why? Cooking is a life skill, why haven't you started learning yet!? Is there a smell that reminds you of something you never want to remember?

--

->Taglist for Pale Blood<-

~lemme know if you want on/off~

@rowanmgrey-author @lychhiker-writes