#continent cake shop

[cake-shop-rarepair-bingo]

❄ WIP-mas ❄

Do you love bingos? Do you join bingo events just to hoard cards? Do you have a ton of WIPs you never found the time to return to?

Then this event is for you. Presenting:

The Cake Shop WIPmas Bingo!

What is it: A friendly event to encourage folks to finish off their past bingo cards.

When does it take place: From today until the end of February, 2024!

How to participate: It's simple, just fill in a prompt from one of the many bingo cards you have laying around. Digital art, traditional art, stories, prose, poetry, and songs are all welcome. If you share your creation, don't forget to tag us so we can reblog your post!

Are there any special rules: None! No word counts, no creative restrictions. We only ask that you tag all content responsibly.

As a hoarder of bingo cards, I require a bingo card to complete this challenge: Well, good news! We've got you covered!

Feel free to use any of our Stamps to check off your completed squares!

We’re super excited to see what you all created! And remember to tag us, we’ll do our best to reblog every post shared!

Now go forth, and conquer all the bingos!

[sxsilly2]

ed distractions

all of this is from distractions.carrd.co!!

out and about - ☆ people-watch ☆ sit outside ☆ go window shopping ☆ try out clothes w/o buying them ☆ get a mani/pedi ☆ cloud-watch ☆ make a shopping list ☆ go on a shopping spree ☆ find a new location in your city to visit on google maps ☆ go stargazing ☆ go to the library ☆ go thrifting ☆ pick flowers ☆ go to a new coffee shop you haven’t been to ☆ go camping ☆ go to a museum ☆ go to a park and draw people walking by ☆ see a movie in theaters

moving - ☆ play tennis ☆ ride your bike ☆ go swimming ☆ make your own workouts ☆ swing ☆ make a playlist of workouts ☆ climb something ☆ go for a jog ☆ take a walk ☆ go hiking ☆ do some yoga ☆ do your work out routine ☆ pilates ☆ stretch

creative - ☆ draw, add a pos over it and draw all over again ☆ make a collage out of book pages ☆ make flower arrangements ☆ style your school uniform ☆ copy celebrities’ signature looks w things in your closet ☆ draw many puzzle pieces ☆ make your own zentangles ☆ create your own signature symbol ☆ dry flowers and make a flower diary ☆ learn to crochet ☆ make gift cards for your friends ☆ make a google docs template ☆ copy tattoos w a marker ☆ make stickers ☆ create your own digital museum ☆ make friendship bracelets ☆ make a diy bath bomb ☆ make a movie ☆ tye dye a t-shirt ☆ make playlists for moments ☆ write a letter ☆ decorate an envelope ☆ write jokes ☆ scribble and turn it into a drawing ☆ splash paint onto paper ☆ try to recreate art ☆ recreate notion/carrd pages you see online ☆ make a graphic novel ☆ build a fantasy world ☆ draw a map ☆ draw a webtoon ☆ decorate a notebook ☆ collect dried leaves ☆ make tattoo ideas ☆ do commissions ☆ draw pixel art ☆ make powerpoint templates ☆ make a subliminal playlist ☆ make edits of ppl ☆ make a notion template ☆ write a cringey wattpad novel ☆ write fanfiction ☆ decorate flower pots ☆ paint your phone case ☆ make diets for your fav characters ☆ write a love // hate letter ☆ make lyrics out of random words ☆ paint rocks ☆ decorate a hat ☆ cut out your clothes to make new ones ☆ up-cycle thrifted clothes ☆ draw on your wall ☆ make a bullet journal ☆ doodle on anything around you ☆ memorize a poem/song ☆ come up w original thread ideas ☆ make jewelry ☆ make soap ☆ crochet // knit ☆ draw a self-portrait ☆ draw w your eyes closed ☆ scrapbook ☆ paint some cloth ☆ animate something ☆ start a dream journal ☆ start a blog ☆ bake a cake ☆ cook something new ☆ create new outfits ☆ color ☆ learn origami ☆ draw an original character and give them their own backstory ☆ color-code your google calendar ☆ draw your dream home in detail ☆ paint on a canvas bag ☆ make a jar filled w movie titles and pull one out randomly to watch ☆ start your own private instagram account as a digital diary ☆ write a screenplay ☆ direct your own movie ☆ make lists

educational - ☆ research a random topic (then make a presentation on it) ☆ learn all the countries on a certain continent ☆ learn all countries’ capitals ☆ educate yourself ☆ catch up on current events ☆ go on a study space and study ☆ join a google classroom ☆ take a masterclass ☆ sign up for a course ☆ practice public speaking ☆ finish your assignments ☆ improve your memory ☆ memorize things ☆ organize your notes ☆ learn a new study technique ☆ learn morse code ☆ annotate a book ☆ learn curse words in other languages ☆ learn how to play an instrument ☆ pick up a new skill ☆ learn some psychology tips ☆ learn some cool facts ☆ learn a new language on duolingo ☆ learn about finances

hang out with yourself - ☆ induce a glow-up ☆ induce your honeymoon phase ☆ choose a signature smell ☆ interview yourself ☆ write about your day ☆ figure out a crisis you’ve been having ☆ romanticize your life ☆ get a signature look ☆ get on another twt side ☆ use subliminals ☆ put all your thoughts on paper ☆ decorate your personal journal ☆ watch a childhood movie ☆ go through your old playlists ☆ discover a hidden talent ☆ ask yourself weird questions ☆ write a love poem to yourself ☆ make a goal list ☆ create a vision board ☆ make a time capsule ☆ look at old photos ☆ write a will ☆ practice gratitude ☆ declutter your phone ☆ practice meditation ☆ make an online quiz about yourself ☆ create a five-year plan ☆ plan out your week ☆ write three short-term goals ☆ work on current goals ☆ use a body scrub ☆ do a hair mask ☆ take yourself out on a date ☆ plan YOU days ☆ journal your feelings ☆ write letters to your future self ☆ make a top-10 list of your fav anything ☆ examine your birth chart ☆ color or cut your hair ☆ start a happiness jar ☆ write down your manifestations // affirmations ☆ watch self-improvement videos ☆ give yourself a spa day ☆ update your resume

social life - ☆ facetime your friends ☆ interview someone ☆ do a virtual meet-up w friends ☆ get a penpal ☆ learn about recent drama ☆ boost your socials ☆ talk on spaces w your moots ☆ volunteer ☆ contact an old friend ☆ plan a meet-up w friends ☆ call a relative ☆ plan fun outings // themed nights for you and your friends ☆ hug someone

at-home - ☆ take a cold shower ☆ re-organize your bathroom ☆ try on your clothes ☆ take a bubble bath ☆ visit a digital museum ☆ paint your nails ☆ do a movie/book/game marathon ☆ clear out your closet ☆ drink water ☆ put together a skincare routine ☆ go through your emails ☆ use a bath bomb ☆ do a face mask ☆ plan your meals ☆ re-arrange your books ☆ clean your room ☆ have a picnic on the floor ☆ stick pictures to your walls ☆ organize your drawers ☆ redecorate your room ☆ clean your makeup brushes ☆ declutter your makeup ☆ organize your photos ☆ clean your electronics ☆ do your laundry ☆ take a nap ☆ make a fort ☆ clean your desk area ☆ print posters and decorate your walls ☆ brush your teeth ☆ back up your laptop and phone ☆ update your passwords ☆ clean your car

just for fun - ☆ pretend you’re vlogging ☆ plan a trip ☆ copy ppl’s insta stories ☆ pretend you’re a model ☆ plant a flower/tree ☆ play uno or another card game ☆ play scrabble ☆ make a tournament of a game like “true american” in new girl ☆ make an amazon list ☆ learn dances ☆ do a makeup tutorial ☆ play loud music ☆ do buzzfeed quizzes ☆ read a webtoon ☆ look at memes ☆ look at thinspo ☆ make a youtube channel ☆ watch vlogs ☆ count your money ☆ discover new makeup styles ☆ tweet something stupid ☆ google yourself ☆ read fanfiction ☆ find new music ☆ write online reviews ☆ read shein reviews ☆ sing karaoke ☆ play never have i ever ☆ play with bubbles ☆ try to rap ☆ recreate your fav movie scenes ☆ make a shrine ☆ make a treasure hunt ☆ play chess // checkers w yourself ☆ start a controversy over a stupid topic ☆ donate some money ☆ learn to hula-hoop ☆ do a sudoku ☆ save tweets to your bookmarks ☆ make a tbr list ☆ go through old ana forums ☆ take a survey ☆ make a wishlist for when you reach your ugw ☆ make an elaborate conspiracy theory ☆ play w legos ☆ start a new show ☆ make a new playlist ☆ listen to a podcast ☆ surf pinterest ☆ read a book ☆ make a bucket list ☆ shop online ☆ sell clothes online ☆ test out a new hairstyle ☆ look up recipes online ☆ watch true crime ☆ watch a rom-com ☆ play video games ☆ redo your phone layout to a new theme ☆ watch a yt documentary ☆ start your own cult ☆ try dimension shifting ☆ record your own videos of you talking to yourself ☆ re-organize your pinterest account and all your boards ☆ scream into a pillow ☆ go through the app store and look for cool apps

[twst-drabbles]

Vil 24

Summary: Vil’s very particular about the colors of his makeup. So, to make things easier with yourself, you got him some paint.

(See what I mean about my mind being a rebellious teen? I tell it no, and suddenly I can write.)

“So? What’s my little King of Poison doing now?” Rook sighed, almost sounding forlorn over the phone as though missing his lover over the wide, wide ocean.

Well, he is away, in a different continent entirely for an abroad study but he could stand to be less dramatic about it. Though, not like you’ll actually say that. It’s entertaining to you, in a way. You can practically imagine his fake-and-not-so-fake tears.

“Well,” you switched your phone to your other shoulder, “he’s making a mess, actually.”

“Really?” All fatigue and night-brought feelings of loneliness suddenly vanished from his voice. You can hear the shuffling of his sheets. “My beautiful Vil? Making a mess?”

“Yup,” you popped.

Vil dipped a clawed foot into the red paint, splattering the generous dollop around his feathers and paper but he didn’t care much for it. He flapped his wings, keeping his balance steady as he hopped to the center and smeared the paint into the glittering mound of violent paint. He began ot mix it.

The edges of his trailing tail feathers have been marred by various colors of paints ranging from white to green. In his concentration, he even had smears of blue all over his face, like he messily ate a blueberry cake. All from Vil experimenting with what colors look best on him. You did say you were going to go shopping, so you figured this would be the best way to ask what color he specifically wanted for himself.

He doesn’t exactly have the finesse of a well trained human hand, so the mess he’s been making reminds you of a toddler discovering the wonders of hand painting. The Vil before your influence would be screeching up a storm at having even juice spilled on a near him. So this sight was fun for you to say the least.

“I can send you pic, if you want.” You said as you already opened your camera.

“Please do. I must have this. Though, do tell, why is he making a mess?” The touch of excitement in his tone had you smiling.

“It’s a sales day at Sam’s shop and I’m gonna buy some things. You know how Vil gets with colors and I always mess up with that. So, I got him the paints to help the both of us out. Kalim had too many palettes from his last birthday so he lent me one.” He’s too generous, truly.

A loud tweet almost pierced your ears. Vil was flat on his butt on an unblemished part of the thick paper, shining with satisfaction as he pointed to his final mix.

“Ah, burgundy this time. Gotcha, gotcha.” You took a wipe out of the container and began to get at his face. You’ll bath him in a bit. “Did you get the photo, Rook?”

You didn’t get a verbal response. Only a mess of barely contained snorts and cooing noises.

Yeah, he liked it alright. You're glad you can make his night.

[nikethestatue]

Elain's Potatoes

Elriel Month: Happy Solstice

Summary: It's Solstice and Elain Archeron is suffering from her cycle. Azriel sneaks out to see her, and cooks her Solstice dinner, and some potatoes, with a twist. He is also on the forefront of the advances of menstrual pad design. Romantic fluff ensues.

(what book was Elain reading?)

Nobody dies in this one, but it's a biggie--8K words

“Elain cancelled on me.”

Nesta’s lower lip jutted forward, and even though she attempted not to show that she was upset, Cassian could see that she was in fact, upset.

“Elain cancelled?” he peered at his wife in confusion, “Elain never cancels,” he argued and Nesta sighed and sipped her coffee from her huge cup, which Azriel brought her from the continent–along with this new drink, called coffee. Cassian’s had it before, because Azriel was a fan, but coffee was bitter and strange tasting. Personally, he preferred tea. Nesta found a kindred spirit in Azriel, and they liked their coffee as black as their souls. 

“Did she say why?” he asked, taking a bite of his eggs.

This was a busy week–Solstice week. It was possible that Elain was running around, preparing, buying gifts and all that, but still, it was unusual for Elain to cancel on anyone, let alone Nesta. The two of them have been looking forward to a day together–shopping, buying mantle ornaments and tinsel, and then they were expecting to meet Feyre for afternoon tea at one of the Tea Houses. Cassian had no say in the matter, but he frowned upon these afternoon teas, because it was just an excuse to eat unhealthy things such as scones and pastries, but it’s not like anyone would listen to him if he told them to indulge in a nice salad. So he kept his mouth shut. At least the three sisters were happy(ier)--nicely filled out, all three with a purpose, one a mother, two mated, the third…well, she was a head-scratcher that’s for sure, and Cassian didn’t exactly know what was happening with her. Elain, so very beautiful, soft, likeable, kind, good natured, and sweet, had way too many men problems. 

“She has her cycle,” Nesta grunted.

Cassian cleared his throat and buried his face in his tea cup. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss his sister-in-law’s bleeding. But he did ask, “so she’ll be indisposed for the whole thing?”

“I don’t know,” Nesta admitted, “but we won’t make her come to dinner if she doesn’t want to come.”

Cassian took a sip of his tea and turned the page of the newspaper that he was reading. He loved these quiet mornings with his wife, his beautiful mate. It’s been less than a year since they had their gorgeous mating ceremony, followed by a much quicker and quieter wedding, where it was only their families present. Nesta wanted a human ceremony and Cassian didn’t mind it. Since then, they’ve been falling in love. The time’s been quiet, and wholly theirs. They went on their honeymoon to Day Court, where Helion offered to give them a seaside villa, which was absolutely enchanting. Nesta wouldn’t leave the azure waters of the sea, swimming from morning ‘till night, only leaving to eat, nap and make love. 

“Azriel will be disappointed,” Cassian muttered absently, turning the page again. 

Nesta threw him a sharp look and raised a brow at his comment. 

“Why would he be disappointed?”

Cassian shrugged and explained, sounding very casual, “Well, you know how he likes the odd little gifts that she gives him for Solstice. I think he will miss that.”

Nesta hummed to herself but didn’t say anything further. 

Did Cassian finally begin suspecting something?

-

Azriel arrived at the River Estate on time, as usual, but without any enthusiasm or any pep in her step.

The shadows that swarmed him already informed him that Elain was not at the house, and he wondered if she was just running late. That was unlike her though. She was punctual, just like he was. Additionally, he assumed that she would be busy preparing dinner, maybe baking Feyre’s birthday cake. But the shadows confirmed that she was definitely absent.

The moment he opened the doors, he was swallowed up in the glitz of the estate, the abundant and glamorous decorations and the scent of roasting chicken.

Try as he might, Azriel couldn't get used to the River Estate. It didn’t feel like anything to him. A shell. In the past, they’d all cram into the townhouse, and it was tight, but heaps of fun all the same. Sometimes, they celebrated Solstice at the House of Wind, and that was a free-for-all of wild shenanigans. One time he woke up dressed as a cow. Another time Mor and Cassian were betting that they could swing from a chandelier–not surprisingly, both fell on their asses and the chandelier fell on the floor, which resulted in the five of them sweeping a million crystals the following day. Cassian swore that he wouldn’t go barefoot into that room even now. Mother’s tits, those were some fun times!

The River Estate made him tense. Like he was in the presence of his High Lord, and not his brother and friend. The baby and Elain were the only two things that he liked about being here–they softened the edges, and made the vast place feel more homey. There have been a few times when Rhys and Feyre were out, and Elain stayed with the baby. Azriel made sure to ‘accidentally’ drop by on those days, under the pretence of delivering something for Rhys. Or ‘forgetting’ that his High Lord wasn’t around to see him. Whether Elain realised that he was chancing an evening with her, he was not entirely sure, but Elain always managed to see right through him. It doesn’t matter. Those evenings were special. They cared for the baby together–fed him, played with him, bathed him, changed him and put him to sleep. Elain had a terrible singing voice, though she played the fortepiano, as he found out. He, on the other hand, had a very good voice, but he never sang…not in front of anyone. When it was just the three of them though, he felt pretty comfortable, and he sang some Illyrian lullabies to his nephew. Elain sat, with her cheek propped on her knee and listened quietly.

“Where is my beautiful mate?”

It was the first thing that reached Azriel’s ears the moment he stepped into the house. Lucien’s voice. Attempting to school his scowl into something presentable and not frightening, Azriel removed his jacket and then stepped into the large parlour where the family and guests were gathered. His eyes immediately went to the window seat, where Elain liked to sit when there were larger gatherings–observing, being part of the party, and yet, always separate. Much like he did himself. Tonight, the seat was empty, and something broke inside his chest at the sight of it, at the absence of her. That’s all he was looking forward to tonight–just stealing a few moments together, exchanging a few sentences, brushing his hands over hers, maybe the opportunity to wrap his finger around her braid. Between Rhysand and Lucien hovering on the periphery, he knew that any chances of something more meaningful would be impossible, but he was used to living on crumbs of opportunities and affection that were thrown his way.

“She won't be attending tonight,” he heard Feyre answer.

“Oh, what happened?” Lucien sounded concerned.

There was a pause, and then Feyre offered, “she is indisposed’.

“Doesn't she live here?” Lucien pressed.

“No,” Cassian boomed, “Ellie moved out and now lives at the townhouse.”

“So, I won’t see her at all this week?” Lucien inquired meekly.

“I am sorry, Lucien. I don’t think so. I should’ve let you know…”

The shadows immediately peeled away from Azriel’s body and slithered off and away, rushing to investigate further. 

-

Mor was getting a platter of cookies and another bottle of wine from the kitchen, when an iron grip clasped her upper arm.

“Aw, Az, what the Hel?” she hissed, not having heard him materialise behind her.

“I need you to do something for me,” he said quietly.

“Now?” she cried and he squeezed her arm tighter, warning her to keep quiet.

“Get off me,” she growled, ready to go to battle with him. “What do you want?”

“Yes now,” he said simply, and gently, but urgently dragged her into the hallway.

“What in the world is so urgent on Solstice?!?” she slapped his chest. 

It was cute, but not as cute as when Elain did it. 

Sometimes, he did something incorrectly on purpose, so Elain could get all adorably frustrated and huffy with him, and push him or slap his chest. He really loved it. 

“I need you to winnow me,”

Her brows knitted together and she gave him a look of pure incomprehension and disgust.

“Are you drunk?” she demanded.

He wasn’t, but he wasn't so sure about her. 

“I am not winnowing you, Azriel,” she grunted at him angrily, rolling her eyes at him. “You can winnow yourself! Why are you wasting my time when I just want to go and get more ham and drink more wine,”

Hissing through his teeth, he muttered, “you don’t need any more wine, trust me.”

“Fuck you,” she snapped rudely.

She could feel the response on his own lips, but he held back. 

“Mor, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” he said seriously. 

She finally set the bottle down on the counter and he let go of her arm, which she then crossed on her ample chest.

Sometimes, it surprised him that he’d been so attracted to her once in his life. He supposed that when he was a seventeen year old virgin, who barely even spoke to women, let alone saw them in Widnhaven, she seemed amazing. Indeed, she was–brashly beautiful, with her golden hair and big lips and large brown eyes. He even saw something of Elain in her–same intense beauty, though Elain’s was always softer and more delicate. But personalities–-why did he think that this could ever work? They had nothing in common. Their temperaments were polar opposites–she pushed and pressured, she needed things to be done her way, she wanted and if she didn't get it, she demanded it. Azriel did not mind, generally. However, it did grate on his nerves at times, and also, emotionally tired him out. He wasn’t one for endless conflict, acquiescence, and arguments. 

Thinking about all of this, only made him want to get out of here sooner and go where he really wanted to be.

“Why can’t you winnow?” she insisted. 

“I can winnow, but you need to come with me. It will only take 2 minutes of your time. You don’t even need to put on a coat,” he assured her. She frowned, disbelieving, but at least she was listening.

He continued quickly, “I just need you to let me into the townhouse.”

The request clearly confounded her. Her expression was befuddled to say the least, and she just stared at him dumbly.

“Rhys’s townhouse?” she asked at last.

He nodded.

“Why in the world……….oh,” her brown eyes blew up and turned into orbs, as comprehension dawned on her. “Ohhhh…ohh,”

“By the Cauldron, stop it!” he snapped at her.

Thinking, she cried out, “what are you going to do?!? Stalk her creepily?! She has her cycle, and I don’t see why and what you can do for her,”

“Exactly!” he nodded. “It’s Solstice, and she is completely alone. Suffering and in pain,”

“She might be just sleeping,” Mor argued reasonably.

“Or not,” he cut, “and even if she is sleeping, someone still should be with her. Caring for her,”

“And you are the one to care for her?”

“And why not?” he asked defensively, suddenly wondering if this was actually a bad idea. What was his plan, exactly? Barge into Elain’s bedroom, while she was bleeding and in pain? They were…what were they? Friends? Unresolved lovers? Definitely not lovers. He could only wish and hope, but that was in the past. Now, he was to be content with just being her acquaintance. Who desperately wanted to care for her during her cycle. Something that only mates and husbands did for their females. Lucien, certainly wasn't breaking down doors to get to her right now. He was happy to drink Rhysand’s expensive wine and eat the delicious roast. 

Mor looked him over and said, “you aren’t exactly the caring type, Az.”

“I care when I want to,” he said, getting tired and annoyed with this conversation. “Can we go now?”

She hummed and pursed her lips, saying, “I am not sure we should. It’s her personal space, I don’t want to intrude.”

“You don’t need to come in,” his patience was running out. “And if she gets upset, I will take all the blame,”

“Hmm, I don't think so,”

“Morrigan!” she snarled.

“No, I don’t think I will do it,” she concluded. 

“Fine,” he said calmly, but a clear threat was thundering through his deep midnight voice.

“I am glad we agree,”

“I will tell everyone that you are seeing Gwyneth,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

She gasped and clamped her hand over his mouth.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me,” he challenged.  

Azriel was the only one who knew about the two of them. Furthermore, he was the only one who knew about Mor’s ‘secret’, though why the hell she kept it so, he had no idea. 

It was scandalous though–Mor and Gwyneth. Mor was the teacher, regardless of Gwyn’s Carynthian status, and Mor was 500 years older, vastly experienced, and one of the founders of the Library, in charge of the priestesses’ well-being, and identities. A relationship with one of her students would be considered unethical at best, especially since Gwyn still lived in the Library and still served as a priestess there. 

“You asshole,” she moaned. “You are such an asshole!”

He smirked and offered her his arm.

“Ready?”

“I hope she fucking throws you out!”

“She won’t,” he said confidently.

“And I’ll tell Lucien,” she threatened.

Breezily, he waved his hand and muttered, “Oh, I am terrified!”

-

A minute later, they stood in front of the white marble townhouse, which was decorated with pine wreaths and had a crooked snowman standing in front of it from the snowfall that they experienced in the fortnight. The snowman had a carrot for a nose and seven blue dots scattered around its body. Mor blew on her hands and chuckled at the snowman.

“Maybe she won’t throw you out after all,” 

They entered the front garden and she poked at the two giant wilted leaves from some plant, which were stuck in the snowman’s back.

“Wings,” she noted.

He noticed everything as well and was quite pleased with the snowman.

She turned to face him and prodded his chest with her finger.

“You promise you won’t say anything to anyone!”

“I promise,” he agreed. “Though I don’t know if it’s me you should be worrying about.”

“Who else knows?” she exclaimed worriedly.

“No one. But I am curious how you’ll explain getting that pegasus from Helion and gifting it to Gwyn, after Gwyn will inevitably blabber about it to Nesta, who’ll blabber about it to Cassian, who will definitely blabber about it to Rhys. Because there is no fucking way that Gwyn isn’t going to be talking about her new flying horse.”

Mor let out a muffled, pathetic sigh and grabbed Azriel’s arm, turning him to face her. 

“By the gods,” she lamented breathlessly, the seriousness of the situation dawning on her. “Az!”

“What?”

Pleading, she asked, “What do I do?”

He shrugged, still feeling petty over how she almost refused to take him here.

“Azriel!”

“What do you want me to say, Morrigan?” He opened his hands widely. “I can do many things, but keeping Gwyneth Berdara silent isn’t one of them.”

“But if Rhys finds out…” her voice died in a heavy exhale. 

“Yeah, there would be hell to pay,” he agreed callously.

“But I love her,” she murmured.

“Not sure it matters to him.” 

It definitely didn’t matter to Rhysand when Azriel was in a similar situation only recently.

Azriel regarded Mor for a long time, considering whether he should give her advice. 

Azriel held grudges. It wasn’t his finest trait, but he couldn't help it. He was an Illyrian, and a Fae, and his grudges lasted for thousands of years. Could and did he forgive Mor for all the years of incomprehensible rejection? No, not even a little bit. At the same time, he also moved on. There was someone that he was interested in and who reciprocated his feelings and who concerned him much more than Mor ever would again. 

“It might not be the perfect solution,” he said at last, “but use magic. There is a secret keeping spell that you can use, or a Confounding spell,”

“Oh yes, yes…” she was nodding eagerly.

“It’s not ideal, but it’s something. It will tide you over until you figure out what to do. She is young and impulsive–I wouldn’t trust her to keep a flying horse a secret.”

“You are right. Maybe a Confounding Spell, where she’d just forget to talk about it and it won’t be on her mind…”

“We done talking about Gwyn? I want to go inside,” he stomped his feet. “It’s colder than Apollion’s asshole!”

She cocked her brow at him and muttered, “I wasn’t aware that you were so familiar with his asshole.”

-

Elain was in her bed, on top of the covers, curled around her stomach.

Fae periods were atrocious. They were uncomfortable and painful, though not as frequent as when she was human. But her new body still confused her. Why go through so much pain and discomfort only to have to wait years, sometimes decades to get pregnant. It seemed pointless. Why suffer this much, only to wait and wait in vain to have a child?

She couldn’t complain really–her cycle was pretty bad, but not as debilitating as Feyre’s, or even Mor’s. Somehow, she and Nesta avoided being subjected to the horrors that so many other Fae females experienced during their cycles. It wasn’t pleasant by any means, but she wasn’t crying and sweating, or shaking and moaning like her younger sister. However they were Made, she and Nesta were given a little bit of a reprieve from the fate of all other Fae females. 

The pain was manageable, but she was bleeding profusely. It was so abundant, it didn’t allow her the opportunity to leave the house for at least 3-4 days. 

Did she want to go to the Solstice celebration at her sister’s? Frankly, she was glad that she was missing it this year. Because he would be there. And the other he. The one she wanted, and the one who laid claim on her. And she didn’t want to deal with either one of them. She was lonely, but by now, this was something to be expected–she didn't have many friends beside the wraith twins, and she didn’t have a male either. She was almost 27 years old and she definitely thought that her life would’ve been very different right now–she might have had a loving husband in Graysen, and perhaps, even a baby by now. She would’ve been Lady Nolan, wife to a Lord’s son, mistress of the domain, wealthy and respected, and maybe even happy. Instead, now, men ran away from her, knowing that she had the blasted mate bond, which rendered her invisible in their eyes. Even Azriel seemed to have lost interest–why wouldn’t he? He was prohibited from seeing her and to him, she was unavailable anyway. 

She was feeling sour. Unhappy with herself, unsatisfied, unaccomplished. How did Nesta of all people get married before her? Nesta, who never had a relationship in her life, was happily, joyfully mated to a great male, and Elain…well, Elain needed to find it in herself to go downstairs and warm up some soup or something. Nuala promised to bring her leftovers from today’s celebration, but for now, she had vegetable soup to look forward to.

She turned onto her side with a grunt, feeling the blood sloshing between her legs, and wrinkled her nose. Gods. It was so gross. Tucking her nose into the book she was reading, she got lost in the world. She wondered if there was really an academy for the Fae, where they studied and honed their skills and powers? That would be amazing to attend. Not just stumble about in the darkness, not understanding her own capabilities, but actually learn how to harness it and how to do spells and other incredible things. If she had a handsome vampire Professor, she wouldn’t have minded either. He reminded her of Azriel–brutal, brash and solitary. She also liked the other character, the big dragon shifter, who was dripping with raw masculinity. Biting her lip, she turned the page eagerly reading about the angry dragon chasing his love interest across the bubbling hot springs, until they finally finally kissed. Elain’s been waiting for this moment for four books and it was here, at last!

She didn’t know what it was, but she suddenly shifted on the bed, feeling someone’s eyes on her. The townhouse was well-protected, with ironclad wards, fit for Rhysand. No one could get inside. Ever. And yet the feeling of unease spread over her and she lifted her eyes from the pages of the hefty tome. She looked around her bedroom, but there was nothing amiss, except for the unusual clump of darkness in the corner. The shadows typically didn’t gather like that in that spot. And then, to her horror, a figure stepped out of the darkness–a figure of murky gloom–a huge male body, swathed in shadows…

“Aaaahhhhh!!!!!!!” Elain bellowed at the top of her lungs, deafening her own ears with her scream, as she hurled the thick book at the male. 

“Auuuu!” she heard the man’s voice. “By the gods, Elain! What the fuck,” 

Shockingly, it was Azriel who was now standing in her bedroom, the book in one hand, while he was rubbing his forehead with his fingers, where she smacked him with full force. “You could’ve taken my eye out!” he complained.

She scattered back, pulling her robe, her eyes wide with both fear and relief, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

“What are you doing here?” she cried out. “How did you get inside?!?”

He was still grunting and wincing, rubbing his face, “Mor let me in,” he growled.

She began to calm down a bit, but then crossed her arms on her chest and repeated,

“It doesn’t explain what you are doing here? Shouldn’t you be celebrating Solstice with the others?”

“Yeah, come to think of it now, I should be,” he growled. 

“Then why aren’t you?”

His left eye winked a couple of times and she couldn’t help, but giggle. He looked so...defeated. Like she sprung on him and completely took him by surprise.

“I think it’s obvious that I came here to check on you,” he said dryly.

“Oh,” she sat back on her heels and looked guiltily at him. 

His shadows were gone, and he wasn’t wearing a jacket, which told her that he probably winnowed straight from the party.

He walked to the white stone fireplace and poked the burning logs with a poker, adding another log into the fire. 

This was enough excitement for Elain, and she was now feeling exhausted, so she slipped back onto the bed, wincing from pain and discomfort. He caught her expression and turned to her, asking, “how are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” she admitted and he chuckled. 

She wore a comfortable pair of cotton leggings and a hoodie. Her feet were bare and he looked at them, taking in her painted toes and a thin gold anklet, which surprised him for some reason. He looked at her for a while, in complete silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. She watched him too, silent and serious, and then extended her hand to him, and held it there, waiting. He took two steps to the bed and grasped her small hand in his, while sitting down on the edge of the bed. She smelled heady and the scent of blood, arousal, her womb, her skin, her natural scent of jasmine and honey almost made his eyes roll back in his head. It was the most delicious aroma he’d ever scented. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her wrist, feeling her pulse beneath his lips, before opening her hand and kissing inside it. Her breathing became uneven and he watched a lovely pink blush spread over her cheeks and her exposed neck. He loved kissing her hands, small and calloused, and covered in a thin net of various scars. She explained that most were from gardening, some were from burns, knife cuts, splinters, scalding water, from doing laundry in the winter and chopping wood, from weeding, and mending clothes. Gentle, pretty, but working hands. 

“Thank you for coming to check on me,” she murmured, reaching up and tucking a strand of his thick, black hair away from his eyes. “You should get a haircut,” she then decided.

He nodded, “I should.”

His rough, scarred knuckles brushed against her cheek and he admitted, “I wouldn’t have wanted to spend Solstice with anyone but you.”

He looked at her bed, and then smiled, “now, who is this?”

She glanced over her shoulder and then took a stuffed pig that rested by her pillow and handed it to him. Azriel chuckled, stroking the soft toy.

“It’s Darius,” she explained.

“Darius the pig?”

“Yes. I used to have a stuffed pig when I was young and then it…” she stopped talking and swallowed heavily. 

He rubbed the pig’s fluffy head with his thumb and pressed, “What happened to him?”

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears and she murmured, “When the creditors came…they ransacked our house, taking everything and anything that was of any value. They even took our hair ribbons and pins. And I was holding him and crying, because I barely understood what was going on and then one of the men snatched him from my hands. He tore his head off…and then stomped on it, so it wouldn't be possible to reattach it later.”

Two fat tears rolled down her cheeks and Azriel just…moved. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to, and he didn’t want to. He wanted to love and comfort her. He wanted to protect her and cherish her. So when he pressed his lips to her face, gently kissing off the tears, it was not lustful or domineering, but a promise. A promise that he would always comfort her and hold dear what was important to her.

“I found this one here, because he reminded me of my Darius.”

“I’ll always take care of Darius,” he vowed, kissing her soft, beautiful face. “Of you. Of everything that is yours and ours.”

Her arm fell across his shoulders and she looked at him, her eyes wet, her lips parted, the pig squished between their bodies.

“You are just,” she whispered breathlessly, “you are…extraordinary.”

“No,” he shook his head, as his nose slid down her cheekbone, “just a male, who’d worship and adore you if you allowed me to.”

She cupped his face between her hands and pressed her lips to his forehead.

“You may…you know. You will always have my permission.”

He kissed her hand again and then pulled away. Truthfully, he didn't trust himself. Even now. Even knowing that she was bleeding and aching, tired and weak, but also ripe and ready for him, he didn’t trust himself and certainly didn’t want to take advantage of her. Because he knew that he could. And she’d be willing. And it’s not like he cared about blood either…But he knew that this wasn’t the time and she wasn’t ready. Besides, as much as he desired her, he also wanted to court her and taking advantage of her willingness and proximity didn’t seem fair. So, he pulled away, even though he was gritting his teeth. 

“May I take the pain away?” he offered.

Elain leaned on her elbows and looked at him with a perplexed expression on her face. Her hair was a mess, slipping from the knot on top of her head and it endeared him even further.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t heal, but I am able to take away pain,” he explained.

“How?” she was shocked, for this was an ability that only some of the more powerful High Fae possessed. Rhysand, she’d seen Helion assist his soldiers on the battlefield, and perhaps Morrigan was also capable. Elain wasn’t even sure that Feyre could, or Lucien. Feyre was powerful in her own right, but she couldn’t take pain away. 

He shrugged and didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t know.

But…there was always something odd about Azriel. His power was vast. It was like a churning ocean of dark, mysterious raw energy that spoke to her own. It responded to her, drawing her own like a magnet, pulling it to her skin, so it vibrated and sought to escape so it could dance and play with Azriel’s power. They’d never discussed it, but the most acute sharing of power that they experienced was during the final battle of the war. She could sense it: his power of Death, deeper than the swirling eddies of the Cauldron, and her power, bright and calm, benevolent and immense–the power of Life. 

“You can do that?” she murmured, looking at him in awe.

He smiled softly at her and said,

“You know me better than anyone. You always have.”

She supposed that she did. The mysterious shadowsinger was never much of a mystery to her. He allowed her in.

Azriel lifted her hoodie a bit over her stomach. It allowed him the view of a sliver of her flat belly. She lay back, a little tense, and he whispered,

“Think of me as a healer.”

She raised her brow at him, giving him a look. He smirked and then placed his large palm on her stomach. She concentrated, and then her eyes lit up and she grinned, after he pressed and held his hand to her skin.

“It’s working!”

“I would hope so,” he nodded, holding his hand to her belly longer than was necessary. His index finger moved lightly near her belly button, writing something that only he understood. Mine.

“It feels so good,” she almost moaned and Azriel sighed. He wished that she would whisper the same words, only under different circumstances. When it was from the pleasure that he gave her, when her beautiful body opened up to him, and welcomed him inside. Gods, she would love it. He would make it incredible for her, her body bowed beneath his, writhing, begging him for more, needing him, yielding to him, falling for him, submitting to him. 

He smiled softly, mostly to himself. He was going to have a fun time filling his Elli’s belly with his babies. This little tidbit might not have been something that he shared with anyone, but Elli was his. And the desire to create a family with her, make them children, ran almost rabid in his blood. He was a patient male, and he was willing to wait. But the fact that she was going to become his wife, his lady and the mother of his children was all but a guarantee. He was even more careful on his missions now–not because of any sort of fear, but because he wanted to ensure that Elain got what she wanted–and that was him. He needed to be hers just as much as she was going to be his. 

Elain’s slender finger wrapped around his wrist and she whispered, ‘thank you’.

“You are welcome, beautiful,” he whispered and then dropped the hem of her hoodie down. “Now, have you eaten?”

Unenthusiastically, she muttered, “I have soup.”

“That is thrilling. Soup.” He tsked sarcastically, but then added, “it didn’t answer my question though. Have you eaten?”

“Nuala made me porridge in the morning.”

“Alright then,” he got up and then fluffed her pillows, announcing, “I shall tend to you and make us a fine Solstice meal indeed.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked. “I don’t need to eat…I am not hungry…”

He hummed and said, “Keep reading your thick smutty book that you’ve used as a weapon,”

“I am sorry!”

“Good aim, by the way.”

She laughed softly. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“Only my pride.”

“You know,” he jerked his head towards the book, “I’ve read it,”

“You have?” she exclaimed excitedly.

“Yeah, where are you at?”

“The dragon shifter and the phoenix are in the hot springs,”

Azriel’s long whistle interrupted her. 

“They are about to do it.”

“Do what?”

“It. Elli. It.”

He winked and then disappeared, but not before smirking at her blush.

-

In the kitchen, Azriel took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and headed for the basket of potatoes.

In Illyria, produce was often scarce, but potatoes were always available, and dozens, if not hundreds of recipes, included or were dedicated to the humble spud. Females had all sorts of secret recipes for their cycle times, and while Azriel never bothered to find out much about them, he could cook up amazing mashed potatoes, roast them with garlic and rosemary, fry them, smash them with cheese and butter. 

He filled a large pot with water, grabbed the basket and sat down. Considering his options for a moment, he decided on using Truth Teller to peel them. His dagger wasn’t only for killing and maiming–he used it casually as well, but only for himself. Shrugging, he figured that Elain might actually benefit from a mash made with a Made utensil. 

Once peeled and cleaned, he dumped the potatoes into the pot, put it on the fire, and began setting the table–he pulled out the nice china from the cabinet, crystal glasses, and the real silver silverware. Then he lit candles in a large beautiful candelabra and grabbed one of Elain’s flower-filled vases, and placed it on the table as well. 

When Elli was going to be his and they’d be living here together, he was going to make some design changes. The place was a bit stuffy for his taste, and could benefit from fewer walls. He liked wide open spaces, air, lots of light, windows, unfussy furniture. 

“Az!” he heard her yell from upstairs. 

Smiling, he yelled back, “What’s going on, beautiful?”

“I am bored!” she complained.

“I’ll come and get you in a few minutes, gorgeous. I am just finishing up here.”

“Whatchya doing?”

“Preparing Solstice dinner, because we are not savages and we’ll have a proper celebration.”

Azriel found some cold ham in the ice box, pate, smoked chicken, a few varieties of cheese, and then headed to the cellar for the wine. 

-

Elain was feeling hot and heavy. Not because of her menstrual pains–not at all, because Azriel successfully took all of that away–and not even because of her blood, but because of the highly erotic chapter that she just read. And quickly re-read. She couldn’t believe that Azriel read the same thing! It made her tingle in places where she shouldn’t be tingling right now, and brought a wave of heat to her cheeks, and between her legs. Her breasts were aching and her nipples grew hard. It didn’t help that the object of her affection was downstairs, preparing dinner. Gorgeous and red-bloodied Illyrian warrior whose touch drove her wild with lust and desire. And he read this very book–its erotically charged chapters, with the handsome dragon shifter doing things to his phoenix lady that Elain could only dream of. She was so engrossed in the book that she didn’t even notice Azriel, who stood in the doorway, his tattooed forearms crossed on his chest, an amused smirk on his lips.

She blinked at him, pulled back into reality. 

“So?” he asked, “did they do it?”

Elain snapped the book closed and exclaimed, “I can’t talk to you about that!”

He laughed and teased, “but why not? I’d like to know what your thoughts are,”

“Well, you can’t!” she argued primly.

“Well…” he sighed. “Maybe later. When you are mine.”

She looked up at him from the bed and he enjoyed watching her squirm under his penetrating gaze, watching her little bare toes scrunching, as she pressed her thighs together. 

“Azriel,” she breathed, almost frightened by the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s not negotiable, Elli,” he told her firmly. 

“But,”

“It’s all superfluous, you know. All the barriers, real or perceived. You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been, and I won’t let go of the feeling. You’ll be mine.”

Then he tossed her some kind of white lump and said, “for now, go change–I’ve made some adjustments to your pads.”

Elain grabbed the cloth that he gave her and got up from her bed, scurrying to the bathing room. She was still not used to the ease with which Fae males approached menstruation, seemingly unconcerned about it at all, and willing to assist in any manner, treating these messy, violent female cycles as part of their lives just as much as they were part of the females’. Still, at least he didn’t offer to go inside the bathing room with her. 

What she was holding in her hand was her usual cloth, but it was folded and stuffed with cotton balls, as well as a strip of bandage inside, which made the whole thing water resistant. She glanced at it, awed. It was genius!

She washed and changed and instead of stuffing her underwear with six cloths, she only needed the one pad. It was actually perfect–comfortable, provided ample coverage, and Elain was thinking how to replicate the design for further usage. When she opened the door into the bedroom, she found Azriel sprawled on her bed, long muscular legs crossed at the ankles, reading her book. 

“This is quite the scene!” he decided, looking at her. “Ready to go?”

“Thank you,” she said softly, her cheeks rosy. She had rebraided her hair, put some blush and lip tint on, and changed into a different, prettier shirt. “For the pad…it’s very cleverly made,”

He sat up and said, “glad you liked it. I’ve made you a set. It’s downstairs.”

He got up, took two strides towards her and then swiftly picked her up off the floor.

She absolutely didn’t mind it, though she attempted to protest rather feebly and he basically ignored her with a chuckle.

“No, take the bag!” she pointed to a bag by the door and he grabbed that as well, groaning,

“What the hel is in it, beautiful?”

Azriel carried Elain downstairs and into the dining room, and she gasped, as she took in the beautifully set table, resplendent with lit candles and flowers. The fireplace was lit now, and it made all her Solstice decorations glow and sparkle to her great delight. Azriel gingerly placed her down in the chair and filled her glass with wine, knowing that she liked white. He filled his own, and then stood with his glass raised, saying,

To the blessed darkness from which we are born, and to which we return.

“Happy Solstice, Az,” she smiled at him and he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Happy Solstice, Elli.”

“Thank you for spending it with me.”

“Of course, beautiful. I’d rather be here, with you, than anywhere else. Now, let’s eat.”

Elain felt like a queen, being cared for and served hand and foot by a mighty Illyrian warrior no less. It was surreal, but it felt nice, and what’s more, it was obvious that Azriel wanted to do this with her, and for her. 

He brought platters to the table and then a big bowl of some of the creamiest looking mashed potatoes she’d ever seen. Just the sight of them made her salivate.

“You made these?” she gushed, once he sat down at the table.

“Potatoes for my Elain,” he grinned and placed a heaping serving on her plate.

Elain attacked them ravenously, and Azriel had a satisfied look on his face watching her eat.

“Remember our first Solstice?” she asked him, as she helped herself to more mash. It was truly amazing. Not only delicious, thick and rich, creamy and satisfying, but there was something special to them as well, which she couldn’t quite figure out. It’s like every spoonful gave her strength, made her feel better, eased the heaviness of her cycle. 

“How could I forget?” he leaned back in his chair, twirling the glass stem between his fingers. “It was the first time you served me food.”

She swallowed another forkful of potatoes and argued, “it so wasn’t’.

The glass paused mid-air and he looked at her surprised.

“Wasn’t it?”

“Nope,” she popped her lips. 

“So when was it then?”

“The potatoes–which I did serve you directly–were just the first time I fed you in public. So everyone could see,” she explained patiently. “But you’ve been eating my food for a long time. All the blackberry tarts and lemon cakes–I make those for you. They are your favourites.”

“You made them for me?” he repeated, his voice quiet.

“Sure did. So, if you believe in all that mating nonsense, then we’ve been mated a long time ago.”

He raised his brow and asked, “Mating nonsense?”

Elain shrugged and sipped her wine. She was feeling pretty good actually. Normal. Like she felt when she had her period when she was human.

“I mean, you can’t possibly believe that a big pot is somehow able to find your perfect counterpart?” she challenged him. “Someone who fits you perfectly, and will love you forever?”

Azriel was so taken aback by her argument, he didn’t know what to say. His belief in the existence and the power of the mate bonds was so ingrained in him, and so unquestionable, he always took it as fact. But…what if…

“Look at Rhys and Feyre,” he threw back at her. “Or Nesta and Cassian,”

“Yeah, bad example,”

“Why is that?”

“Nesta fell in love with Cassian at first glance,” Elain said simply. “A lightning strike. He was everything she ever wanted, ever dreamed of, ever needed–he was perfection in her eyes. It was cute,” she smiled, remembering, “watching her back then. How besotted she was, how she wanted to talk about him all the time, how she’d look up at the skies to see if he might be visiting. All I am saying is that she fell in love with Cassian long before she knew anything about any mate bonds. Even the fact that we were different species didn’t stop her.”

“They do exist though,” he insisted.

She cocked her head and waved her fork around, looking like she was humouring him and his silly beliefs.

“Sure, I guess explain then why I am eating your delicious mashed potatoes on Solstice with you and not with my mate? Why you came here to care for me and cook and why you wanted to spend Solstice with me, and not him?”

To that, Azriel had no answer.

“I don’t believe in mate bonds,” Elain admitted truthfully. “But if it makes it easier for you, then I will feed you all the food you want.”

Lightning struck me too, Azriel wanted to tell her. I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you as well.

“What did you add to them?” she wondered, changing the topic and pointing to her plate.

“A little magic,” was all he said.

So she could feel the presence of Truth Teller’s magic. It was good to know.

“I want to give you your presents!” she almost bounced in her chair, rejuvenated by the potatoes and Azriel’s healing magic. 

He smiled, “what about dessert?”

“We’ll eat it later. I want to give you your presents.”

“Fine, I want my presents too.”

Impatiently, Elain reached into the bag that she insisted Azriel bring with them.

He wondered what it would be this year. It was always something odd and hilarious.

“The bag is for you,” she said, and sat back, watching him, while he rummaged inside.

Firstly, he took out one book, and then, another.

How to Use Your Words and 10,000 New Words for Your Vocabulary

“Excuse me?” he glared at her, though a smirk threatened to break out on his lips.

She was laughing silently.

“You like?”

“Hmmm…I know there is a message somewhere in there,” he told her, “not sure what it is though.”

“There is one more,” she nodded to the bag.

He took out something soft and then unfolded it.

It was a scarf. It wasn’t a beautiful scarf. It was black, knitted somewhat inexpertly, with a cobalt blue thread running through it.

Azriel’s heart jerked in his chest.

“Did you…” he glanced at her, “did you knit this?”

She nodded, suddenly feeling shy.

“I am not good at knitting,” she confessed quickly. “I know it’s very ugly,”

“It’s not ugly!” he cut her off immediately, feeling the texture of the scarf in his hands, loving it already. “It’s perfect.”

She licked her lips and finally said,

“I think it’s Made.”

“What?”

“I wanted to Make it, so it’s magical,” she wrung her fingers, “it’s supposed to keep you warm at all times. I wanted you to be comfortable when you are out there, on your missions.”

“Elli,”

“Try it tomorrow, when you go to your snowball fight. When the other two are freezing, you should be warm,”

“You are giving me an unfair advantage?” he laughed.

“Umm yes! All is fair in love and war,” she winked. “But then you are expected to win, you know.”

“With this thing warming me up?” he puffed his cheeks, “I will destroy them. They won’t know what came at them.”

She clapped with a nasty little giggle and Azriel couldn’t stop laughing. 

Then he got up and went to retrieve something from his jacket. He  handed her a flat box and said,

“I know you don't believe in mates, but it’s the prerogative of a mate or a husband to give his woman jewellery for Solstice.”

When she opened the box, she found an opulent hair pin inside. It was stunning–large, so it could actually hold the mop of her thick hair, but also…

“I wanted something that spoke to you and of you,” he began explaining softly. “So I made it look like a flowering branch.”

The delicate branch was gold, and leaves were made of various gemstones–mother of pearl, diamonds, pale sapphires, and tiny specks of stones that she did not recognise.

“Azriel,” he gasped. “I can’t…it’s too much…”

Wordlessly, he picked up the pin from the box and then gently, but firmly thrust it in her hair.

“Beautiful,” he marvelled.

A rush of…power suddenly engulfed Elain. It was different from her own, but also familiar–she recognised it immediately. It was Azriel’s.

Her fingers flew to the pin and she whispered,

“What is it?”

“Tiny bits of my siphon,” he said softly. “For luck, and for you to always have someone of mine. And protection. And when you need a little more power, I hope they give it to you.”

“Az…” she looked up at him, her eyes filled with happiness and tears.

He cupped her cheek and his thumb stroked her face, before drawing slowly over her lips.

“I am tired of hiding, Elli,” he said gravely. “You and I–we are written in the stars. I know it’s more than you expected, but I want the world to know that you are mine. I am your man. No one else. You wear my gifts, my jewels. And you will be claimed as mine. The pin took a year to create, for every stone I found myself, in different parts of the world. When you are mine, I will explain the meaning behind all of them.”

His thumb lightly wrote Mine on her lips.

“I might be Death, but you will forever be my gentle fawn.”

[brian-in-finance]

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Finding Serenity AMIDST STARDUST

Celebrity Makeup Artist Mary Wiles

Beyond the dazzling world of celebrities and Fashion Weeks, British makeup maven Mary Wiles enjoys the quiet charm she's found in Sutton.

"I love how quiet and calm it is here despite being in NYC," she beams. "I also love the park at 57th by the water, and the new esplanade is stunning." It's been her serene spot since May 2019, finding a peaceful respite between the city's hustle and her whirlwind career. Mary's a regular at Tenz Coffee Shop on 1st. "They make the most amazing lavender flat white. It's the best in the city, or anywhere in fact," she gushes. "The carrot cake is also divine."

With over 25 years of experience in the makeup industry, Mary's professional journey spans across continents — from London to Paris and now in the heart of New York, for fashion week. "I work mainly with celebrities, so I will be working with clients going to the shows and sitting in the front row," she explains. From dazzling runway shows to rubbing shoulders with A-listers at star-studded movie premieres, her career reads like a glittering Hollywood script.

Celebrities like Naomi Watts, Sadie Sink, Demi Moore, and Diane Keaton pepper her client list, highlighting her remarkable journey in the world of glitz and glam."I love keeping it varied and working with all people of all walks of life," she exclaims, emphasizing her deep appreciation for diversity and individual stories. As much as Mary immerses herself in the world of beauty and high-profile events, her quest for balance and grounding is evident. "I try to be present and have a good balance," she reflects.

Her goals are simple: be present, remain content in her work, and find a good balance. Sipping lavender flat whites in Sutton and cherishing moments of tranquility amidst the city's chaos, Mary epitomizes grace and composure.

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Remember… I try to be present and have a good balance. — Mary Wiles

[moosemonstrous]

So much has built up in the last few days since I started writing this bit that there are parts I'll need to change, but I'm being very brave and not doing proper edits or it will never get posted 😂

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - Beastie Riders

(insert The Distance by All Good Things. Or Cake. Pick your favourite version!)

Robbie doesn't want to be having fun.

He's still beat from training earlier in the day - Brooks seems convinced he's found a way to cheat his systems and had him repeat every course, twice. The muscles in his legs still shake a little every time he stops moving for longer than a few seconds. That isn't much of an issue, though, because the music in the arena thrums through his body like the relay gel through suit circuitry. Between that, the UV lights revealing the intricate paint and tattoos over everyone's skin - there is a lot more exposed skin here than he's used to - and the sheer amount of people, he doesn't know what to pay attention to. He feels like a kid in a toy shop. He definitely can't afford anything on sale, but--

He's about to watch demons tear each other apart for sport. It shouldn't be exciting.

You don't unclench even for a second, huh.

It's much easier to ignore the voice in all this noise. Cho grins at him - or at least he hopes that's Cho, his face lit up in green strokes he can't follow for very long without getting a bit dizzy. His arms are glowing, too, even though he didn't put any paint on them - he didn't strike Robbie as someone who would get tattoos. Shows what he knows. Cho says something Robbie can't hear over the music and pulls him by the arm through the crowd, closer to the edge of the viewing platform. People who don't want to make way get elbowed aside. It's honestly a minor miracle nobody knocks his teeth out.

Cho has his phone out, and what looks like a bank app open. No, it's betting. There's an app to bet on the fight, because of course there is. Cho points to the edge of the square space below, still talking.

"I can't--" Robbie sighs, and lets himself be pulled down to a talk-into-ear level.

"I said we're really damn lucky!" Cho shouts. "It's Sister Grimm versus Ghost Rider!"

Robbie has no idea what either of those names mean, but judging by the numbers ticking up on the app, they're pretty popular. Racing never brought in this much money. It could be something to look into, when the whole jaeger business inevitably blows up in his face. Provided Robbie doesn't blow up right along with it, that is.

He listens out, but the voice either doesn't have a comment, or is too quiet to make out in the growing racket in the arena. Suddenly, all the lights go out, leaving only the glow of the tattoos and a single red beam pointing to the stage in the middle of the arena.

A projection of a tall man in a white suit appears to the general approval of the crowd. He speaks in Cantonese, so Robbie has no clue what he's actually saying, but he can pick it up from context - the fight is about to begin.

"That's Sister Grimm!" Cho elbows him to look to stage left, where a young Asian woman wearing mostly just paint strikes a pose to the beat of the music. She blows a kiss to the man in the white suit, who mimes fainting before picking up his mic to introduce the other fighter.

Some of Robbie’s unease returns at the sight of the Ghost Rider. He's wearing what seems to be a heavily modified drivesuit - it's covered in all manner of studs and spikes, the spinal clasp made to look like it's partially ripped out. What's visible of his skin is painted black to better contrast the skull-like tattoos across his face, like the bones are breaking through to the surface. He has enough metal in his face to build a tank out of, and when the cameras zoom in, Robbie spots a series of painful-looking subdermal implants along his cheekbones.

"He's big back home!" Cho tells him. "I didn't know he even left the continent!"

Wait a second. Not too quiet, then. Wait a goddamn second, it can't be--

Both riders step closer to the fighting pit. The crowd quiets down, and so does the music. The white suit dissolves into a cloud of sparkles. The riders' respective teams are a flurry of well-rehearsed chaos behind them, their gear looking nearly as complicated as anything on the LOCCENT bridge back at the base.

He hears the growl first. It's low, the reverberation standing up every hair on Robbie’s neck. Not quite like facing a Cat 4 - he doesn't think anything quite compares to having The Charger's head locked in the jaws of a monster the size of a skyscraper - but the primal fear it evokes is familiar. The dark shape slithering out from under Sister Grimm's stage reminds him of a bird stuck in an oil spill, its long arms connected to its body with leathery membranes. It drags itself to the middle of the ring and gives out a guttural roar.

The response to the call is instantaneous - the other demon rips into the pit like it was clawing at the gate to be let out and stands on two of it's six legs to scream. It's a chilingly human sound. It looks skeletal and thoroughly alien, like no animal Robbie has ever seen, and he can't tell whether the orange glow on it's hide is paint or something natural.

"He hasn't lost a fight in four years!" Cho yells into his ear. Robbie can believe that. As the demons circle each other in the ring, Sister Grimm looks determined, focused. Ghost Rider seems to barely be paying attention. His demon is similarly distracted, eyeing the crowd above it like it's planning out its dinner.

No, it's the fucking Corinthian Maneuver! The voice groans. He's even doing that stupid half-turn-- What are those idiots in the academy even teaching you?

Robbie really, really hates it when the voice says something he has no way of knowing about. Corinthian sounds vaguely biblical, though, so maybe it's--

Hydra. Hydra Corinthian. It used to run point on... The voice sighs like Robbie is it's single greatest disappointment. Never-fucking-mind, watch the fight.

Sister Grimm attacks first, the monster's claws swiping out with deadly speed, but despite the appearances Ghost Rider is ready - his demon dodges out of the way and up the wall, bouncing off it to land a heavy hit on its opponent's trunk. It doesn't follow up - it backs up and waits for the bird to right itself. At first, Robbie thinks it's some weird sort of sportsmanship, a way to prolong the fight. He's right on the latter, but it quickly becomes obvious sportsmanship has nothing to do with this fight.

Sister Grimm barely manages to get a hit in - Ghost Rider is too fast, slinking under the wing-like arms and taking nips out of the oily hide like he isn't even interested in making them count. He's playing with his food.

Robbie doesn't know how to feel about that. Logically, he recognises he's watching a mostly-illegal pit brawl in the shadiest part of the Bone Slums. It's probably rigged. He's probably the only person in the whole arena not to know how the fight will end, and the combined unfairness of it all starts to simmer low in his chest. When he looks at Cho, though, he's practically hanging over the railing of the platform to get a better view at where Sister Grimm just manages to snag a claw between Ghost Rider's bony ribs. He looks to Robbie with a huge grin on his face before pulling him down to shout: "They're using jaeger tactics! Can you imagine Ivanov's face if he hears about it?!"

And, well, that is a pretty good image to tuck away for the next time the Colonel has an opinion on The Charger's deployment position. Not that he ever will hear about it - not from Robbie, at the very least.

Down in the pit, Sister Grimm has Ghost Rider in a headlock. Both beasts are bleeding from shallow wounds, the black substance oozing out and down onto the concrete. Lesser demons don't excrete corruption like their larger counterparts, but the sight still makes him back away from the barrier.

Don't be a fucking baby, the voice chides. Even the nerd has more balls than you.

The nerd doesn't get sprayed with it on the regular, Robbie thinks sullenly.

Neither do you. Your pod is like a goddamn armored egg now, back in the day we had sea water coming through the vents--oooh, look at that!

Sister Grimm swiped the legs out from under the Ghost Rider with it's wing, and has the beast pinned. The bird creature's beak opens so wide it almost unhinges, and the other monster appears to have given up. Everyone seems to hold their breath at once, but when Robbie looks to its master, the man is smiling, his orange teeth-tattoos stretching with it in a very unsettling manner.

Just as the beak is about to snap shut on his beast's neck, its middle legs--pop out of sockets. The suddenly elongated limbs wrap around the bird's neck and twist, and Sister Grimm screams in agony as her demon drops down, dead. The crowd explodes, people all around Robbie yelling and stomping their feet as once again the music rises to it's previous levels.

"How--!" Robbie has to hold onto Cho's shirt before he topples over the barrier. "Did you see that?!"

Ghost Rider whoops, turning to high-five one of his techs while his beast heaves the corpse off of itself and runs a victorious lap around the ring. It scales its walls nearly to the barrier, snapping at the audience's outstretched hands.

Fucking show-off, the voice grumbles, and Robbie can't help but snort in laughter. Showing off seems well deserved at this point. The man in the white suit reappears on the Rider’s side of the stage, lifting up his arm in victory. He's saying something, but Cho is already dragging Robbie away and down the rickety stairs to pit level.

"Wait, where--?" Robbie doesn't have to resist very hard for Cho to have to pause in his attempted kidnapping. He looks over his shoulder, betrayed. "Where are you going?"

Cho nearly jumps up and down in place, impatient. "Are you kidding me we're going to have a look at that beastie if I have to break into it's paddock!" he exclaims and sprints off, and-- God damn it. This is exactly why Robbie has been reluctant to come.

[nightghoul381]

Licht 3rd Anniversary Event

A Beast's Dream Realized by Beauty

Chapter 2

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Prince. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

I’m very sorry I don’t have screenshots for this translation until the epilogue!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

There are three things we can tell from Licht’s drawings.

The first is that every drawing has a big, round full moon.

The second is that there are no roses in bloom.

And the third is that he hadn’t drawn any people.

Relying on the few clues I had, I immediately headed out to town with Licht, but nothing came of it—

Fruit shop Clerk: “These are wonderful colors but I have no idea where the drawing is supposed to be.”

Grocery Store Clerk: “Miss Emma, is this some kind of riddle? Is there a hidden code or something?”

Passing Soldier: “I do patrols a lot, but I haven’t seen scenery like this… I’m sorry I can’t help you!”

Emma / Licht: “Hmm….”

Licht and I go into our favorite café and take a seat to rest our feet, tired from walking around.

Immediately after ordering our sweets, I let out a sigh.

Emma: “This is pretty tough.”

Licht: “The toughest thing is how bad my drawings are…”

Emma: “No!? I like how unique and creative your drawings are.”

Licht: “You don’t have to force yourself to like them.”

Emma: “I’m not forcing myself.”

Licht: “But it’s true that it’s not good enough to work as a clue.”

Emma: “That’s not true.”

I arranged the pictures on the table to see if there were any clues we may have overlooked.

(We went to all the places I could think of and asked the people in town.)

(Even so, the landscape drawing didn’t trigger any memories.)

Emma: “Maybe this scenery isn’t from Rhodolite.”

Licht: “We’ve searched a lot and can’t find a similar place, so I think the possibility is high.”

Emma: “That’s right. Bu what should we do when it comes to other countries…”

(It’s suddenly become even more difficult to find…)

The store clerk sets the seasonal peach tart on the table in front of me.

I hurriedly set aside the drawing and inhaled the scent to my heart’s content.

Emma: “Looks delicious…”

Licht: “You’re drooling…”

Emma: “You’re lying!?”

Licht: “It’s a lie.”

Emma: “…Licht.”

Licht: “I just wanted to see your cute reaction.”

Licht cut into the tart, putting a slice onto a plate and handing it to me.

After I took the plate and thanked him, he started cutting his own portion of the tart.

Licht: “I want to keep your current cuteness in a picture.”

Emma: “…If you say that, I’ll have to get revenge okay?”

The tart that Licht had cut into pieces had the most delicious parts.

While he had a somewhat melancholy air when he dug up the box, Licht was now smiling.

(Licht’s smile is a national treasure no matter when I see it.)

(…national treasure…)

Emma: “Ah!”

Licht: “What?”

Emma: “I have a good idea.”

(With this you might be able to find scenery from other countries!)

After savoring the seasonal tart slowly, we convinced the staff to package the rest for us to take home.

I took Licht’s hand and headed to a certain place.

Sariel: “You want to see inside the treasury?”

Emma: “Yes.”

I had approached the subject while offering tea and a lightly sweetened cake to Sariel while he took a break.

It was only natural that I got a questioning response.

Emma: “Rhodolite is the land of art and roses, so there are many works of art in the court, right?”

Emma: “I want to see paintings by artists from all over the continent.”

Licht: “… I see.”

Licht: “If there’s a similar painting in the court that would definitely be a clue.”

Emma: “Right?”

Sariel: “Are you looking for something? I’m not sure you’ll find it, but it’s fine for you to look in the treasury.”

Emma: “Eh…it’s okay?”

Sariel: “Why are you surprised?”

Emma: “Well the treasury is such an important place that it’s heavily guarded, so I didn’t think it would be possible to get permission so easily…”

Sariel: “Is it really that strange? You are Price Licht’s fiancée.”

Sariel: “You have the right to freely browse the treasury. Here you go.”

Sariel takes out a key from the desk drawer and drops it into my hand.

Emma: “Thank you—”

Sariel: “However, as you said earlier, it houses important cultural property that is under security.”

Sariel: “Don’t play hide and seek in the treasury and break the artwork like Prince Licht did in the past.”

Licht: “…don’t bring that up, Sariel.”

(That really happened?)

Emma: “I understand, I’ll keep my head up!”

The treasury of Castle Rhodolite was even more expansive than the dance hall.

(Even so, it feels cramped because there are so many things.)

As befits the name of the land of art and roses, countless works of art were stored in the treasury.

I froze… if I should fall, I would crash right into the ceramic vase displayed in front of me.

Licht: “You’re too cautious.”

Emma: “Aren’t you nervous, Licht?”

Licht: “Not really? Guess I don’t understand the value of art.”

Licht: “You are far more valuable to me than the national treasures here.”

Emma: “Ah, thank you…?”

(…Licht’s words are always so sweet and make me smile.)

Licht: “There are a considerable number of paintings alone.”

Emma: “Yeah, it’s rewarding to have this many!”

Licht: “Too excited.”

Licht: “…that kind of thing is cute though.”

Licht casually presses his lips against my forehead and immediately begins to remove the cloth from a nearby painting.

(The treasury…. it’s really warm.)

After hours of quiet work—

Emma: “I might have found it.”

Removing the cloths that were hanging on painting after painting…

That’s when I found one picture that stopped my hand.

The painting was a delicate depiction of a foreign dancer.

The dancer is beautiful, and takes your breath away in admiration.

But what caught my attention was the scenery behind her.

Licht: “Which one?”

Licht came closer to the sound of my voice.

The two of us stared intently at the painting like appraisers.

Emma: “Look. First, here’s the beautiful full moon, right?  Then there’s the stage where the dancers are dancing.”

Emma: “The jumbled masses in your drawings look just like that, and most importantly, this…”

I compared one of Licht’s drawings with the painting in question.

In the picture that Licht drew when he was young, there are parts that were colored with yellow and green.

On the other hand, the painting depicts a beautiful sandy landscape that is almost transparent and green plants that are not seen around here.

(I don’t know if it’s really right, and it’s possible that it’s just a stretch, but…)

Emma: “The picture you drew was a desert, isn’t it?”

Licht: “…a desert…”

Licht: “That means it’s in Tanzanite, the land of divination and illusion—”

I try to recall the information while imagining a continental map in my mind.

Emma: “Tanzanite… I think that was the country neighboring Jade.”

Licht: “Yes. Tanzanite is the only country that has a desert, and it’s famous for its dancers.”

Emma: “So the person who told you the stories was talking about Tanzanite?”

Licht: “It’s very possible.”

Licht: “I heard that the country over there welcomes dancers and songstresses freely.”

Licht: “…and my mother was a songstress.”

I can hear my heart pounding heavily.

Emma: “Wait, Licht…”

Emma: “Who told you the story that made you draw this picture?”

Licht: “…”

Licht: “…my mother.”

An unfathomable shadow casts into his crimson eyes.

Licht: “This is where my mother wanted to go.”

[mays-corner]

(This post is a bit random so if you get it you get it if you don't get it it's fine)

It's 2024. I should be going to the disco, which I dislike.

Instead, I decided to hyperfixate on a Welshman.

One thing that baffles me to this day, and trust me it has happened more than once, is has anyone ever tried to protest at least a bit to still have Matt as John? Did no one try hard enough? Or have the attempts failed?

I mean-

I'm a newer fan (even with content crumbs I am a fan) still, so I can't be sure, but I'm amazed that in all these years that have passed, no one ever did anything, and now he can't even play Constantine (I think).

And now, the only role I've seen is him dubbing John 💀

Ignoring this discourse about John, I've decided to search for other roles, movies, and series, and what I've found was interesting, to say the least.

I am becoming passionate about him for various reasons. Other than wanting to revive pre-pandemic activities, I have noticed a pattern: I enjoy searching for things that I only watch. These are some thoughts I had about some things I could not find in Italy:

Hard to find (for example, I'm still searching for "The Halcyon," and the funniest thing about this is that in Italy, it was shown on TV (on an RAI channel, RAI is an Italian broadcaster) during 2017 and it's not available on their platform.

Region-locked content (the DCAU being region-locked is such a crime; we only have House of Mystery, and that's it) or even trying to watch a simple cameo when the entire series is region-locked (the Harley Quinn one). However (and this is good news), while searching for Away (one of his movies to watch), I found Tubi and used a free VPN. It was slow, but it worked, and I watched it.

Expensive (I paid Assassin's Creed Black Flag in installments, so that wasn't expensive, but still...)

It was a play, so they haven't recorded it, but to see and better understand the role he played (in this case, read), I read Thérèse Raquin by Émile Zola, and it was still effective.

Not even available on Chili (an Italian streaming platform on which you can rent or buy movies), the title only appears but is not available for streaming (lol).

Using Vinted or secondhand shops in general (it’s not the best time for me to go fully secondhand, but I suppose I could find some things there).

At the moment, I've watched just what I could easily find without resorting to piracy (which is ironic, since in Assassin's Creed Black Flag, Matt voices Edward Kenway, a pirate.).

In this list of things I could easily find, we have:

Constantine (thanks to another fan)

Criminal Minds/Criminal Minds Suspect Behavior (I had Disney Plus for a month, so I've watched it from there)

Flypaper, Adverse (Prime Video)

Arrow (Prime video)

Legends of Tomorrow (Netflix and Mediaset infinity)

House Of Mystery (Amazon prime, you have to rent it but still)

While writing this I found that "Layer cake" is on Sky, which I have and Now TV too.

Pocket Money (While watching it I just understood two words out of an entire short and I'm a c2 in English 💀)

Away, Wild Decembers, Armistice, Blood Monkey

So, you might have been asking yourself... Have I gone mad? To search and find for stuff not even available in my own country? In my own continent, too?

But I thought this is what comes with being a fan of someone, even if the career is what it is.

Considering me being unlucky, I was never able to see Matt when he acted and then had premieres at the same time.

Asssassin’s Creed Black Flag? I was 10, a child, lol.

Legends Of Tomorrow? I liked anime, manga and everything japanese.

And the list goes on...

It's nice to see what was like and what I couldn't live, gosh, I'm praying hard that we get to see him act again, I want and I wish to be present, live or not.

I wanted to make a really nice speech but nothing comes to mind, when I get it maybe I'll post it 💀

[piranhaincaps]

They’d all be alright after a night’s rest. The inn was willing, though only just, with the offered space a suitable size for a small child. Nothing they hadn’t managed before. Nothing they’d complain about. --- 2022 continent cake shop’s winter exchange! for the absolute dearest @anonymousblueberry ♥ my delight when i realized i got to make an isometric room puppy pile

[deaddovedecadence]

Uhm hi! I saw you wrote about the purge au and I thought platonic parents, misa, light and l (poly if okay) I thought it might be a cool idea if like their child ran away and they took them back at the purge I’m sorry you can ignore this I just saw you wanted requests I’m sorry

Sharky you are speaking my fucking language. This is great <3.

-

Strawberry Cupcake

You ran from them a year ago. It was, it was a stroke of pure luck getting away from them, almost a miracle and despite the fact that you don’t know whether or not a god exists, you still pray in thanks to them for allowing you to get out that house and somehow, all the way to England.

You live in the suburbs of London now. Your home is with an older couple who needed someone to do yard work and some of the harder chores for them and in exchange you get food and board. Their home is much smaller than the penthouse you grew up in but you like it better. It’s more homey somehow.

So when you get the mail one day, suffice it to say, you’re surprised and more than a little nervous, because the purge in only a month away, when you find a letter addressed to your old name. You run back to the house and open it in the comfort of your room, curtains closed and door locked.

Your dread only grows as you realize what this is. It’s an announcement that you’ve been chosen, a warning that someone coming for you on purge day. The letter reads as follows,

Dear Mx. Yagami,

I am sorry to inform you that a claiming has been sent in for you. On purge day, which is of course july fourth, your obsessors will be allowed to capture you and kill any that stand in their way.

You are dealing with three Class Five Yanderes, and our usual recommendation is to flee the country and change your name.

Best of Luck,

A. Johnson

No, god above, please no. this can’t be real. You’re free from them now, they shouldnt be able to find you, not here of all places. You’re continents away, hiding in a little suberb, they will not find you.

You burn the letter and continue life as normal. They will not find you.

-

As purge day gets closer, you get more and more antsy, constantly cleaning or doing something to keep your energy from affecting the rest of the house. On the day of the purge, you leave the house, intent on getting as far into the city as you can in order to loose yourself in the crowds.

And for a while it works, everyone who hasn’t been sent a letter of warning still has to go about their day and that means most places are crowded. Some of the cafe’s are extra crowds and the people in them look anxious. You avoid those areas just in case. You get lunch out, do the grocery shopping for the week and it’s past day by the time you catch the trains that will take you home.

The street lights are already on when you get to your neighborhood and the house lights aren’t on. It makes sense because you are out rather late but it still makes you anxious, long ignored survival instincts pushing their way to the front of your mind. They tell you to run but you, so very stupidly don’t listen.

You unlock the door and head inside and the iron smell of blood floods your senses. The lights flips on and there they are. Your parents.

Despite getting older in the time you were gone, Misa still looks ageless, her long blond hair cascading down her black like a waterfall and her eyes shining shinigami red. Your fathers sit on either side of her, L leaning carelessly on her shoulder, smiling his eerie smile, and Light sitting primly with his hand in hers.

“You’ve been gone a while strawberry cupcake, aren’t you at least gonna say hello?” L says, leaning forwards on the couch. He’s always called you that, simply because he calls your mother strawberry cake, and no matter how hard you try to fight it, you’ve always been your mother’s child.

“Umma, Father, Oya. I’m aware that I was gone for a long time, Oya. I left on my own without interference from outside parties.”

“That was our deal,” He agrees. Light, evidently annoyed with the conversation and with being ignored coughs. “You forgot to make a deal with me or your umma darling, so it’s all null and void.”

“Come here baby,” Misa coos gently, her eyes still red but her smile gentle. You go to her because Misa has always been the most merciful of the three and your fathers are terrified of upsetting her.

You allow her to take you into her lap, easily arranging you as she wants. “You know baby,” she says gently into your ear, so softly you doubt either man can hear, “I wanted to be merciful, and we were going to be except you found yourself a whole new famil. You forgot us and well, I can’t let that slide now can I?”

“What’d you do?” You don’t really want to know but part of you needs to. “For every month you were away from us, we tortured ten petty criminals to death.”

“That’s over a hundred people.” You said softly. she hums gently, rocking the two of you back and forth. “We killed those nice people you wanted to play house with too.”

“No.” She’s has to be lying, thy)re innocent, you made sure of it

“Yes,” Light answers instead of Misa, his voice a pleased hiss. “They took you away baby, that couldn’t stand. Taking a child away from home is kidnapping and that is a crime after all”

L leans into you, his weight warm and familiar (damming)

“I never had a choice, did I? You were always going to find me” It dawns on you like a tsunami, quick and destructive all at once.

“Of course not, we’d never let you go. You need us,” Light says easily and the world implodes around you.

(REBLOGS HELP MORE THAN LIKES. PLEASE REBLOG THIS POST IF YOU LIKE IT)

[cacchieressa]

Eight Days in April

1. I broke a glass, got bloodstains on the sheet: hereafter, must I only write you chaste connubial poems? Now that I have traced a way from there to here across the sweet- est morning, rose-blushed blonde, will measured feet advance processionally, where before they scuff-heeled flights of stairs, kicked at a door, or danced in wing-tips to a dirty beat? Or do I tell the world that I have got rich quick, got lucky (got laid), got just what the doctor ordered, more than I deserved? This is the second morning I woke curved around your dreaming. In one night, I've seen moonset and sunrise in your lion's mane.

2. Moons set and suns rise in your lion's mane through LP kisses or spread on my thighs. Winter subsided while I fantasized what April dawns frame in the windowpane. Sweetheart, I'm still not getting enough sleep, but I'm not tired, and outside it's spring in which we sprang the afternoon shopping after I'd been inside you, O so deep I thought we would be tangled at the roots. I think we are. (I've never made such noise. I've never come so hard, or come so far in such a short time.) You're an exemplar piss-elegance is not reserved for boys. Tonight we'll go out in our gangster suits.

3. Last night we went out in our gangster suits, but just across the street to Santerello's, waited past nine for wine. We shone; the fellows noticed. "You have a splendid linen coat," Dimitri told you as he sat us down. (This used to be my local; now it's chic.) A restaurant table's like a bed: we speak the way we do calmed after love, alone in the dark. There's a lot to get to know. We felt bad; we felt better. Soon I was laid back enough to drink around the bend. You got me home, to bed, like an old friend. I like you, Rachel, when you're scared, because you tough it out while you're feeling it through.

4. You tough it out while you're feeling it through: sometimes the bed's rocked over tidal waves that aren't our pleasures. Everyone behaves a little strangely when they're in a new neighborhood, language, continent, time zone. We got here fast; your jet lag's worse than mine. I only had Paris to leave behind. You left your whole young history. My own reminds me to remind you, waking shaken with tears, dream-racked, is standard for the course. We need accommodation that allows each one some storage space for her dead horse. If the title weren't already taken, I'd call this poem "Directions to My House."

5. I'd call this poem "Directions to My House," except today I'm writing it in yours, in your paisley PJ's. The skylight pours pale sunlight on white blankets. While I douse my brain with coffee, you sleep on. Dream well this time. We'll have three sets of keys apiece: uptown, downtown, Paris on a sublease. Teach me to drive. (Could I teach you to spell?) I think the world's our house. I think I built and furnished mine with space for you to move through it, with me, alone in rooms, in love with our work. I moved into one mansion the morning when I touched, I saw, I felt your face blazing above me like a sun.

6. Your face blazing above me like a sun- deity, framed in red-gold flames, gynandre in the travail of pleasure, urgent, tender terrible—my epithalamion circles that luminous intaglio —and you under me as I take you there, and you opening me in your mouth where the waves inevitably overflow restraint. No, no, that isn't the whole thing (also you drive like cop shows, and you sing gravel and gold, are street-smart, book-smart, laugh from your gut) but it is (a soothing poultice applied to my afflicted part) the central nervous system and the heart

7. The central nervous system and the heart, and whatever it is in me wakes me at 5 am regardless, and what takes me (when you do) ineluctably apart and puts me back together; the too-smart, too-clumsy kid glutted on chocolate cakes (me at ten); the left-brain righteousness that makes me make of our doubled dailiness an art are in your capable square hands. O sweet, possessives make me antsy: we are free to choose each other perpetually. Though I don't think my French short-back-and-sides means I'll be the most orthodox of brides, I broke a glass, got bloodstains on the sheet.

— Marilyn Hacker from Love, Death, and the Changing of the Seasons

[all-the-things-2020]

Continuing the Way - Chapter Two

Summary: Mariana gets some good news at work and the boys eat cake.

Rating: PG-13

Mariana rushed into Professor Ti’lik’s office. “Sorry, I’m late,” she said as she stashed her bag under the table in the corner that served as her desk. “We had a small meltdown this morning when Cabur decided he doesn’t like his gray pants anymore, and of course, they’re the only ones that are clean right now.”

Ti’lik chuckled. Her own offspring were fully grown but she sympathized. Her species went through its own version of the Terrible Twos, known as “the Years of Anger,” in which young ones wrestled with the emergence of negative emotions by screaming and slamming doors and head butting the walls. Mariana was certainly glad human children didn’t go quite that far.

“Not to worry,” Ti’lik said. “We do have a meeting with the Galactic History Consortium this afternoon, but otherwise you have the whole day for research.”

It was the one day of the week that Mariana did not have any classes, and it was her favorite day. She could get lost in her research and get home early enough that she could take the boys to the park or to do some shopping, giving Din a bit of a break from childcare.

“What time is the meeting?” Mariana asked, pulling out her data pad to set herself an alarm. When she got involved in her work, she tended to lose track of time.

“1400 hours,” Ti’lik replied. “I’ll remind you after lunch … unless I have to remind you to eat lunch.” Mariana shook her head. The professor would not let her live down the day she’d worked straight through until 1700 hours and promptly fainted the moment she’d stood up to go home.

“I have a reminder,” Mariana said, entering the meeting into her daily calendar. “Lunch: 1200 hours. Meeting: 1400 hours. There.” She placed the data pad against the back of her table and pulled out the heavy-duty portable terminal she used to access the university servers. It had a larger screen and a keyboard for inputting data, making it easier to use than her smaller data pad. She logged into the university system and immediately lost herself in the minutiae of Rigellian military customs in the fourth century of the Linomatian Regime on the Outer Rim.

*********************** Ten minutes before she and Professor Ti’lik left for the meeting with the Galactic History Consortium, a comm pinged on Mariana’s data pad. Another reminder from the med clinic that she was overdue for her checkup. She’d already missed three appointments because she was just so busy, but she knew she needed to schedule a time to replace her contraceptive implant before it expired in a few months. She flagged the message so she would see it the next time she accessed her pad, and promptly forgot about it as she and Ti’lik hurried to the meeting.

The Consortium was a group of historians from several different universities across the Republic and being invited to meet with them, even just the local representatives, was quite an honor. Mariana was mostly there as Ti’lik’s research assistant, but she was still excited.

Ti’lik was less impressed. “These things tend to drag on,” she warned Mariana. “Some of the older professors like to hear themselves talk. Just smile and nod and act like you’re taking notes. If there’s anything of real importance, I’ll let you know so you can pay proper attention.” 

The meeting did drag, as Professor Dawwinta from the University of Coruscant, the visiting speaker, gave a very involved and rambling report on his research into the history of the ancestral tribes of the southern continent of Naboo. Near the end of the two hours allotted to the meeting, Professor Ti’lik tapped Mariana’s foot, alerting her to the real business at hand.

Professor Kevit Dane, who was most likely to take over as department chair when Ti’lik retired, was the local member of the Consortium. He stood to deliver his own report. “The Consortium has asked our university to coordinate a bibliographic study of the literature of the matriarchal societies of the Old Republic,” he began. “I would like to propose that we form a task force to work on this project, and I’d further like to propose that Professor Ti’lik’s assistant Mariana Djarin take point on this endeavor.”  Mariana was taken aback. “We have a very good cohort of students in the department who can do the bulk of the work, but I think Mariana would be a good fit as project coordinator.”

The others nodded and Dane gestured at Mariana. “Are you amenable to that, Mrs. Djarin?,” he asked.

“Of course,” Mariana stammered. “I’d be more than happy to help, if Professor Ti’lik can spare me.”

Ti’lik nodded. “I think that can be arranged. We’re ahead of schedule on the research, thanks to your diligent work.”

Mariana felt herself blush a little. “I’m just doing my job,” she said.

“And doing it well,” Dane said. “Which is why I’m offering this project to you and not one of our adjunct professors.” He chuckled. “Quite frankly, our current adjuncts are overworked and under qualified.” The others nodded; it seemed to be a common complaint amongst tenured staff no matter which university they worked for.

The meeting wound down after that and fifteen minutes later, Mariana and Ti’lik were heading back to the office.

“That was a surprise,” Mariana said.

“Not really,” Ti’lik salad. “You’re the logical choice for the job. Technically, it should have gone to an adjunct, but as Dane said, they’re overwhelmed and frankly, you’ll do a better job. You have to know, Dane and I have already discussed hiring you as an adjunct the moment the ink is dry on your degree.” She unlocked the office door and motioned for Mariana to enter first.

“That’s very kind,” Mariana said, “but let’s wait to see if I manage to get that degree first.” She started packing up her things. “Between work, and classes, and the kids, I’m hanging in there, but it’s rough.”

“You’ll do fine,” Ti’lik said. “Like I said, we’re ahead of schedule on my project, so you can concentrate on the bibliography for the Consortium. It’ll look great on your resume.” She winked. “Now, go home and play with your babies … you’ve earned it.”

************************************ “Mama got a new project today,” Mariana said once she’d gotten in the door and dropped her bag on the table. “So let’s go buy a treat for after dinner!” Cabur and Ad’ika started jumping up and down.

“A new project?” Din asked. “That sounds exciting.”

“It is,” she said, digging through her bag for her credit pouch. “I’ll tell you the details later.” She kissed him quickly on the cheek. “I’ll take the boys to the park and then we’ll stop at the bakery for something yummy. I’ll get some of those meat and veggie pies the boys like for dinner, so you won’t have to cook. Just relax.” Just like that, she and the kids were out the door and Din found himself alone in the apartment.

The quiet was soothing at first, but after about fifteen minutes, Din missed the background noise that always accompanied his sons as they played. Even when they were napping, he was always aware of their presence, his ears tuned to listen for the small sounds they made as they woke up. He had been tempted several times to tell Mariana to take these afternoons for herself, to go out and enjoy herself, but he knew she felt guilty about not helping with the boys, and she liked her mommy time with them every week.

Din lay down on the couch, closed his eyes and dozed off for a while. He woke with a start when the door opened, the boys spilling in and filling the apartment with their comforting noise. “Da!,” Adi’ka shouted. “Cakes!”

“My cakes,” Cabur yelled. “Mine, mine, mine!”

Din sat up. “So, did you get cakes?”

Mariana laughed, juggling three carrier bags in her hands. “Yes, Cabur talked me into getting a dozen of those cakes he loves,” she said. “And I got some of those fruit hand pies you like.” 

Din helped her take the bags into the kitchen and unpack them. The boys hopped excitedly around their feet, clamoring for cakes. “Dinner first,” Mariana reminded them. “Remember what we talked about?”

Ad’ika nodded, but Cabur whined. He was still having difficulty with the concept of patience. Din pulled out some plates and plopped a savory pie on each one. “Here, kiddos,” he said. “Eat your dinner and then we’ll dig into the cakes.” He helped Ad’ika into his chair, while Cabur climbed into his own and reached eagerly for his plate. Before Din could even think of getting forks out, both boys had their mouths full.

He handed Mariana a fork but she was already biting into her pie, holding it with both hands like the boys did. “No manners,” Din chided, tossing a napkin at her. She made a face around a mouthful of pie. Din made a show of eating his own pie properly, with a fork, but his family didn’t care. As soon as Cabur had swallowed the last bite of his pie, he started a chant, “Cake! Cake! Cake! Cake!”

Ad’ika joined in, and Mariana tried to shush them. “Wait until Daddy’s finished,” she said.

“Daddy slow!” Cabur complained. 

“Buir n’iviin'yc,” Ad’ika agreed. Father not fast.

“Oh, fine,” Din said, shoving the rest of his pie into his mouth, which made the boys laugh. As he struggled to chew and swallow the wad of food, he brought the box of cakes down from the shelf.

Cabur stood on his chair, half laying on the table in his eagerness to reach the sweets. “Calm down, ad,” Mariana said. “You’ll get your fair share.” Din placed two of the small cakes on each plate, raising an eyebrow at Cabur, who was ready to snatch his before they touched the plate.

“Okay, go ahead,” Din said once they had all been served. Cabur shoved one of the chocolatey cakes into his mouth, nearly choking himself. “Slow down there, son,” Din said. “Enjoy it, don’t inhale it.” Cabur wrinkled his nose and kept cramming the cake into his face. They were his favorite dessert and they only bought them on special occasions.

Ad’ika was slightly more sedate, but still gobbled his cakes quickly. Mariana ate one, then divided the second one in two, sneaking one half onto each boy’s plate. Din pretended not to see her, and the boys giggled, thinking they’d pulled one over on Daddy. Din made sure they watched him eat both of his cakes.

“Buir me'dinuir?” Ad’ika asked. Father share? Din shook his head.

“Nayc,” he replied. No.

Both boys narrowed their eyes at him, looking as fierce as they could. Din glowered back until he finally broke and pulled two more cakes out of the box and handed them to the boys.

“Elek!,” both boys shouted. Yes!

Mariana shook her head. “And you say I spoil them,” she said. Din just shrugged and popped another cake into his own mouth. Mariana peeked into the box. “There’s only one left! I bought a dozen … you boys are too greedy.” She snatched the last cake and delicately nibbled on it, making it last long after their own cakes were gone. “See, if you take your time, you get to enjoy your cake longer.”

“But you only got two and we each got three,” Din pointed out.

“And a half,” Mariana said, pointing at the boys, who both had chocolate smeared around their mouths.

“Three and a half,” Din admitted. “Well, come on greedy boys, let’s go wash our faces while Mommy clears away the dishes.”

Once the boys were cleaned up, the sugar kicked in and they filled the living room with their squeals and giggles as they attempted to play with every one of their toys at once. Finally, they crashed and nearly fell asleep in the bath. Mariana didn’t even need to tell them a story after they were tucked in; both boys drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

“So,” Din said, when he and Mariana adjourned to the couch, “tell me about this new project of yours.”

Mariana rattled on about the bibliography and how she was going to be in charge of a research team of her own, clearly excited about the prospect. “And Ti’lik said we’re ahead of schedule on her project, so I can take some time off from that to concentrate on getting the bibliography project up and running,” she concluded. “Best of all, she said that once I have my degree, they want to hire me as an adjunct!” She snuggled closer. “I think this project is a trial run just to make sure I’d be a good fit.”

“Of course you’ll be a good fit,” Din said, squeezing her tightly. “You’ve been doing an amazing job, from what Ti’lik has told me when I’ve spoken to her.”

“When are you talking to Professor Ti’lik?” Mariana asked, sitting up to look at him curiously.

“She calls now and then to check on how the boys and I are doing,” he explained. “And sometimes she wants to make sure I get you to relax or eat or whatever. She worries about you, cyar’ika.”

Mariana snorted. “I’m fine,” she said. “She fusses too much.”

Din shook his head. “You fainted that one time,” he scolded. “You work too hard, and for too long.”

“I’m making up for lost time,” Mariana said. “Once I get my degree finished, things will slow down.” She nuzzled against his neck. “And we can start thinking about giving the boys a little brother or sister.”

Din hummed a noncommittal reply as she kissed and nibbled at his throat. “I know you want another one,” she said. “So do I, and I’m not getting any younger.”

Din couldn’t argue with that, and he didn’t want to. “We’d better practice, then,” he said, before escorting her to the bedroom.

[vale-isei]

DU SNIPPET #1

The Republic of Aurora’s capital, Anatoli. The sparkling Golden City is situated on the continent of X’altriea. Aircraft flying toward the Eastern coasts are never lost; during the day, the city is a glittering gemstone under the sunlight, at night transformed into a landscape of dazzling lights. It offered the world: shopping plazas, expansive gardens, museums, renowned landmarks, restaurants and cafes, rich residential areas. To reside in such a city was the dream of a man’s dream.

This city of opportunity, extravagance and wealth remained one of the richest cities in the world despite the ongoing war. As an epicenter of civility, it was common ground for allied people all over the world, hosting morale-boosting events. This month’s event was a simple party hosted by the nation’s leader, Enouement---though, it was no simple party.

Parties held in the Republic of Aurora were parties like no other. They lasted throughout the evening and well into the morning of the next day, the clean-up taking more than a week. To receive a golden invitation from Enouement was no small feat in itself. Recognition by the charismatic leader was the equivalent of meeting Life herself.

Of course, that’s what sets the nation of Avalon on fire when their Supreme Leader receives an invitation.

└──═━┈◉┈━═──┘

“They sent it this morning, sir. Enouement awaits for our arrival this Friday evening.”

Great studied the golden card. It shimmers in the lamplight like an actual gold bar, showing off the loopy signature at the bottom. This was no doubt a real invitation sent from his brother’s own hand. He withholds a sigh and sets it back on his desk.

As the Supreme Leader of Avalon---better known as the Daylight Nation’s reigning sovereign---he had an opportunity to uphold. His Operatives served as military propaganda and Force Zero, not celebrities. Festivities under their name could soil their strict reputation as impeccable soldiers. People could think of them as loosely constituted…

Or, on the other hand, it could be good PR. Show the strong alliance between the two powerful nations and let the newsies paint a picture of unity. Heaven knows Great needed the good publicity after Practical’s stunt with General Buchanon.

Speaking of.

Great looked up at the Operative in question; Operative Practical stood at attention before him, waiting for his orders. Without his welding mask, Practical’s face was visible to others now… yet, it was hard to read his expression. A poker face, Operative Dynamic once described.

It was hard to recognize the man that was shouting at him just a month ago.

The office is dead silent until Great breaks it. “We will be attending. Have [OPERATIVE] Dynamic write back to Enouement immediately.”

“Are you not going to write back to him yourself?”

Great’s silence answers him in volumes. Practical nods after a long moment and makes his exit.

The Supreme Leader spins his office chair to the large, one-way glass wall behind him. He watches the sun disappear behind some clouds as he plans for the party.

└──═━┈◉┈━═──┘

“We’re going to the Equinox Party? That’s a huge deal.” Benevolent finishes decorating the sides of his cake and steps back to view his progress. “We never go to parties.”

“It’s a big deal,” Dynamic says. “The Equinox Party is held every decade. To be invited means Enouement sees you as someone important.”

Benevolent, Unstable, Dynamic and Macabre were gathered in the back room of the Bakery. Since Dynamic was a native Aurorian born in the extravagant country, he was well versed with how things were----and since his awareness of the invitation, he was more than ecstatic. He could explain the full scale of things to them so they could try and understand why their leader allowed them to attend the biggest party of all time.

Well, they had their suspicions. It was a complete no-brainer.

Unstable picks up a lemon cookie, inspecting the icing. Once he determines it’s not super sugary, he takes a bite. He swallows. “We’re the Days Union. If he saw us as less important people, I’d be worried.”

“[THE SUPREME LEADER] and Enouement are probably doing this to soothe tensions,” Benevolent replies. “We don’t need the Centauri Powers thinking its two biggest enemies are breaking off.”

“Things would be way easier if Practical didn’t shoot the general,” Unstable sighs.

“But we wouldn’t get to go to the party!” Dynamic exclaims.

“Of course you’re excited for the party---”

“And you’re not?!”

Dynamic jumps off his stool and whirls around the small space. He nearly bumps into Macabre who’s been listening in silence, annoying The Tragedy and earning a warning grunt.

“The Equinox Party is the epitome of all parties!” Unstable mumbles “here we go” as Dynamic pretends to dance with some invisible partner. “It’s extravagant! Imagine lively music, tables toppling with food, guests dressed in all kinds of lavish wear! Every corner is a new adventure, every nook a story to be fulfilled! All kinds of people with their own tales to regale!”

“Not everyone was made to thrive in the social scene,” Macabre speaks up. “I’m sure Benevolent or Radiant or others would have a fun time, but for the rest? We’re soldiers, not entertainers.”

“Then practice speaking to live people instead of the corpses you drag around,” Dynamic replies with a sassy lilt to his tone. Macabre rolls his eye and retreats back into his silence. “I’m really excited to attend the party. I need to convince [THE SUPREME LEADER] to let us wear nice clothes.”

Benevolent smiles, pointing his piping bag at The Artist. “You know he’s going to make us wear our military uniform.”

Dynamic groans. “Please don’t jinx my efforts so early, [DOCTOR].”

“All we know is that things will be interesting,” Unstable says.

He makes an attempt to steal another cookie, prompting Benevolent to whap his hand.

((Notice the names of countries and capitals? Details that aren't quite right? There are heavy rewrites from lore, old and new. I suppose this is my own personal take on lore! I really just wrote what came to mind.))

((My current inspiration lies in The Great Gatsby. A riveting tale---amazing book and beautiful movie. I recommend TGG heavily!))

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

Perhaps 9+36 with Lukas, please?

Throughout his life, Lukas had noticed a difference between himself and others. Ask just about anyone you come across about something they feel strongly about, and they'd be able to give you one -- if not more -- impassioned responses! A hobby, a person, a time of year; most people had something in their lives with which they could devote themselves to.

Lukas...did not seem to have any such passions.

He'd courted a woman for several years, but when war came and distance had been wedged between them, he found his thoughts did not drift to her as was often written about in so many romantic words. Training had been forced upon him at a young age by his father, and much like joining the Deliverance, it hadn't been his choice. While he did enjoy reading a great deal, he was by no means a scholar.

It made him feel quite...out of place, more often than not. Surely it was normal for people to be passionate about something! But he just...was not.

Or, at least, that had been the case for his life up until this point.

Once the physical and political dust had settled from the war, Lukas had been more or less at loose ends. While he'd remained on as a knight for the now unified continent of Valentia and its new kingdom, he was not nearly so busy as during the war. Every day had been a struggle; always worries to wrestle with, always some new life or death experience to get through.

Now, his days were mostly filled with advising. He had been a trusted aid to both Clive and Alm during the war, and as such, was still called upon for his cool head and honest takes on things. He didn't deal much with training up new recruits or the like, and spent a good deal of his time in talks with the new rulers of Valentia.

It was fulfilling, but still...that feeling of passion was lacking from even this.

But one day, as he idly roamed the sleepy streets of the castle town, Lukas stumbled upon a bakery he'd not noticed before. With the land still recovering from the dreadfully lean times just a year or two before, it had taken a while before such luxuries had really returned full force.

And, truly, this place was a luxury.

From the moment Lukas had curiously stepped inside, he'd been enveloped by the warm, sugar-spun wonders of the confectionary. Cakes and sweetbreads, bright candies, and tempting chocolates galore! Anything sweet beneath the sun had been housed in this place, and with the sweet tooth that he had, Lukas was a veritable kid in a candy store.

He didn't indulge at all the first time, simply took it all in with an appreciative wonder and struck up a conversation with the owner. He really only had meant to ask how they were getting on, with everything still on the shaky legs of a newborn calf, but had ended up having a long and engaging talk that ended in Lukas walking out of the shop with a sample of sweets.

A simple cube of chocolate and peanut butter fudge that shouldn't have drawn such unseemly noises from him at a bite, but had him blissfully hooked as he walked back to his duties for the day.

It became a routine after that, so easily slotting into his life. That missing piece, that passion. Every morning, without fail, Lukas would be one of the first in the shop to get his pick of treats for the day. At first he didn't get much, but as the year wore on, this would swiftly change. A handful of hard candies here, a slice of cake there, chocolate covered honeycomb. Throughout his mostly sedentary day of reading over documents and listening in on meetings, Lukas would treat himself to a sweet snack to get through his work.

Every little moment of sweet delight on his tongue was like a solar flare of happiness that only he got to experience. The feeling of finally having something he was passionate about filled him up on the inside.

And so, too, did the sweets. Filled him up and out in no time at all.

Having such a love of all things sugary and rich, it didn't take very long at all for Lukas' attempts at moderation to quickly fall to the wayside; it was easy enough to deny his cravings and gluttony with the salve of putting his otherwise languishing money to use at a local business. What was once a singular visit to the confectionary in the mornings became twice a day, then thrice. A little more each time. Because that was his favorite and it was fresh, or he'd never tried one of those before so why not grab a couple, or if he spent a certain amount the bakers would bundle up some extras for their favorite customer.

With most of his day spent at a desk, Lukas didn't often get in the same amount of exercise he once had during the war effort. He was still diligent in his work, of course, but it was so easy to spend his day reading dull papers when he had tasty treats to dig into at his desk without needing to get up.

His lithe physique softened with every indulgent, lazy day as advisor to the King and Queen. Though he'd never had much of an angular face, it very clearly rounded out into chubby cheeks and a gentle squish of fat beneath his chin. His ass grew soft and pliant, expanding ever closer to the edges of his chair until he eventually grew fat enough that his thighs simply couldn't help but to overflow the struggling piece of furniture. His stomach, once flat and decently toned, bulged against all of his shirts like it had a vendetta against the buttons trying to contain it.

His swelling gut taxed his shirts so much, in fact, that it was rare to not see fat divots of belly poking through the gaps of straining buttons.

One afternoon, as Lukas was just finishing up looking over something, he'd reached for a cookie to treat himself with a job well done. It was massive -- not only wide but thick as well; soft and delectably chewy, with gooey, oozing chunks of chocolate generously sprinkled throughout. He bit into it with reverence, savoring it for a moment before scarfing it down in another couple of bites. As he was sucking his fingers clean of chocolate and crumbs, there was a sudden ping -- followed by the blissful sensation of pressure easing up around the crest of his gut.

That ping was a button finally losing its battle against Lukas' ever expanding waistline, and it was about to be joined by its comrades.

There was another ping, and another after that -- his bloated, overly stuffed belly sagging further into his lap the more buttons gave up at holding his weight back. A curious heat crept into Lukas' chubby cheeks at this, and though he really should have tried to maintain some sort of decorum when anyone could walk in, something possessed him to gobble down the rest of his sweets right then and there.

Hoping to stuff himself so full that his shirt simply couldn't take it anymore, and completely gave up against the onslaught of his stomach. At the end of the day, he'd had to call on some help to fetch a spare shirt that would fit him as the one he'd been wearing was left a torn mess.

People asked plenty of questions, seeing how fast he was putting on weight. It seemed so unlike the reserved, stalwart Lukas they'd known. But, though he kept certain aspects vague, his old friends didn't seem overly concerned at his ballooning weight when he expressed how happy and satisfied he finally felt in life.

And if his chair needed to be swapped out several times due to being too small or collapsing underneath his elephantine ass, it was swiftly done so with a larger, sturdier successor. If he plowed through his goodies before late morning and needed more, someone was always happy to make the trip into town and double his order for him. And if his pillowy gut encroached on his desk space -- so round and fat that it actively forced him to sit further away or risk leaving a reddened mark across the expanse of doughy flesh -- no one questioned the immensely satisfied look on his face.

Lukas couldn't have been more pleased to have found his life's passion.

[doughyduo]

^Makoto after like three minutes in Senti's presence. That was her favorite cake shop. And it was three floors.

But she got to enjoy more cake than she ever had before! And she’ll only get even more for as long as Senti is around!

Sure, she’ll outgrow continents, but that means more stomach space for cake!

[rabbitcruiser]

Apple Day 

Apple Day is mainly celebrated in the United Kingdom, where it was started. Common Ground, a group dedicated to building strong communities, strengthening local distinctiveness, and connecting people with nature and each other, held the first Apple Day in 1990, at Covent Garden in London, England. Their goal was to create an autumn holiday that would not only be celebrated in London, but also in other cities, villages, parishes, markets, and even orchards. They wanted to demonstrate the richness and diversity of apples, but also the diversity of landscape, ecology, and culture as a whole.

Many different activities have taken place on the day. First and foremost has been the buying, tasting, and eating of apples. Other activities have included juicing, pruning, grafting, and identifying apples, and games, songs, and poetry about apples. In England, many groups such as museums, shops, restaurants, horticultural societies, Wildlife Trusts, National Trust properties, and schools organize activities for the day. By the second year of Apple Day, there were over 60 events. There were over 300 events in 1997, and 600 by the new millennium. Not all "apple days" are held on October 21. Some groups hold these celebrations on other days of the month.

Through the day's success, it has not only demonstrated the importance of the apple but the importance of local celebrations as well. The day has germinated local pride and grown interest in local distinctiveness. Apple Day has also led to an interest in raising awareness for the origins of food and to encouraging healthy eating.

The apple tree is a deciduous tree from the rose family and is cultivated around the world as a fruit tree. It originated in Central Asia; its ancestor is the malus sieversii, which still grows today. Apple trees grew for thousands of years in Asia, as well as in Europe—the starting place of Apple Day—before being brought to North America by European colonists in the seventeenth century. They are possibly the oldest tree to have been cultivated. The only apples native to North America are crab apples. Reverend William Braxton of Boston planted the first apple orchard on the North American continent in 1625. Apples were cultivated on colonial farms and spread along Native American trade routes. Johnny Appleseed introduced apple trees to the western frontier. Today apple trees are prominent in Eastern Washington, where apples are their leading product, and more apples are grown there than any other state.

If grown by seed in the wild, an apple tree can tower up to 30 feet, but they are generally 6-15 feet in height when cultivated. The height of the cultivars depends on how they were grafted onto rootstocks. There are over 7,500 cultivars of apples, which are grown for various purposes such as eating raw, cooking, and cider making. Apple tree flowers blossom in the spring, and the leaves bud at this time as well. Flowers cluster in groups of four to six and the center flower is called the "king bloom." It opens first and can grow into larger fruit than the other flowers. The fruit is ready to pick by late summer or fall.

How to Observe Apple Day

The best way to celebrate the day may be to attend an Apple Day event, most of which take place in England. You could visit Covent Garden in London, where the first Apple Day was held. One of the other best ways to celebrate the day may be to try as many different varieties of fresh apples as you can find, identifying them, and noting the differences and qualities each has.

Besides eating fresh apples, you could celebrate by eating apples in some of their many other forms as well. Have some cider or apple juice; treat your sweet tooth to apple dumplings, apple pie, apple cake, or a caramel apple; and find a use for apple cider vinegar. There are so many ways you could enjoy apples. Not only could you eat them, but you could plant an apple tree. Plant a cutting, or get a tree from a nursery.

As the heart of the day is about finding ways to connect with others and nature in your own community, the day can even be celebrated without apples. You could spend the day at any sort of community event, or by doing something to improve the place you call home. You could support small local businesses, join the committee for an annual festival, or work with others to clean up parks and waterfronts.

Source