#dark lakewater

[tofreezetime]

you're always on my mind

when will you be mine?

[obsessedaizawa]

About; Crystal Lakewater - Hazbin Hotel OC

Basic Information

➤ Full Name: Crystal ‘Rose-mania’ Lakewater ➤ Birthday: July 9th 2000 ➤ Death-day: May 15th 2022 ➤ Age: 22 Years Old ➤ Cause of death: Drowned forcefully by ex-husband ╳°»｡ ∾･⁙･ ღ ➵ ⁘ ➵ ღ ･⁙･∾ ｡«°°»｡ ∾･⁙･ ღ ➵ ⁘ ➵ ღ ･⁙･∾ ｡«°╳ ★ Likes: Singing, playing the piano, reading, creative writing, poetry, photography, walking around bare-foot, playing in puddles, sledding, rain clothing, snow clothing, taking long baths and showers, camping + s'mores, fruity alcoholic beverages, roses, dark chocolates, positivity, organization, and bluntness. ★ Dislikes: Humid weather, unnecessary drama, surprises, liars, malicious intent towards the weak and helpless, makeup, massive parties, loud noises, bright lights, tail being pulled forcefully, and drunken confessions ★ Sexuality: Heterosexual _____________________________________________________________

Characteristics

✿ Gender: Female ✿ Born: Michigan near Gull Lake ✿ Ethnicity: Mixed with German and Irish lineage ✿ Species: Deer Sinner Demon ✿ Formally: Human ✿ Status: Active

Appearance

✦ Overlord Name: The Storm Demon ✦ Eye Color: Turquoise, Bondi Blue, & Viridian ✦ Skin Color: Marian Blue ✦ Blush Color: Indian Red ✦ Hair Colors: Palatinate Blue And Yale Blue ✦ Ear Colors: Electric Blue And Steel Blue ✦ Hair Style: Wavy ✦ Hair Length: 24 Inches Mid Back ✦ Eye Lash Type: Deep Set Eyes ✦ Eye Lashes Length: 13 Inches ✦ Eye Lashes Color: Black ✦ Freckles Color: White ✦ Freckles On: Face, Shoulders, And Tip Of The Ears ✦ Bra Size: 34B ✦ Underwear Size: Medium ✦ Shirt Size: Medium ✦ Preferred Shirt Size: Large ✦ Pants Size: 12 ✦ Weight: 172 lbs ✦ Height: 6′2 ✦ Shoe Size: 11 and a half ✦ Nickname’s: • The Lady Of The Lake, (Rosie) • Doll, Young Lady, Goddess, (Platonic Valentino) • Tempered Ice, A Pain In My Ass, (Vox) • My Alcoholic Buddy, Kid, Partner, (Husk) • My Energetic Bundle Of Joy, Sunflower, Sunshine, (Charlie) • Sweetie, My Organized Twin, (Niffty) • Fae Fawn, My Dear, My Darling, Dearest, My Love, Sweetheart, Little Doe, (Alastor)

Clothing

➤ Casual Outfit:

➥ Hair Style: Down and wavy ✦ White sweatshirt with black kanji written on both of the sleeves saying 自分を決してあきらめない = Never give up on yourself. In the middle of the sweatshirt a black and white silhouette of a rose losing its pedals while in a glass container. Inspired by Beauty And The Beast. ✦ Light blue jeans with a whitish/grayish belt ✦ Dark blue jean jacket with lots of stars embroidered on the flaps and frontal pocket’s ✦ Aegean blue sports bra and boy shorts set no lace ✦ White crew socks ✦ Black leather combat boots with thick laces ✦ A mood ring for the aesthetic  ✦ Three club coil bracelets on two on the right arm and one on the left. Ranging from glittery silver, light blue, aqua, dark blue, navy blue etc. ✦ A silver magical heart-shaped locket with Crystal’s initials, written on the front in black cursive handwriting, with a silver chain. Every-time Crystal wants to see someone she misses or is still living out there lives, She can see them through the locket through photographic slides. (Gifted To Crystal From Alastor For Valentines Day)

➤ Work Attire:

➥ Hair Style: In a pony-tail with some of the curls falling on the sides of her face. ✦ White buttoned downed dress shirt ✦ Black leather slacks ✦ Black leather gloves ✦ Black trench coat with red roses with light green vines embroidered over the coats flaps along with dark green thorns embroidered over the cuffs of the sleeves. The backside of the coat towards the middle a green vine with roses are visible ✦ Black ankle socks ✦ Black non-heel dress shoes ✦ Black bra and panties with a little lace ✦ Aesthetically pleasing silver pocket watch with a silver chain. Numbers are written in roman numerals. ✦ Charm bracelet with the following charms: Silver Treble Clef Music Note, Golden Sun, Silver Camera, Bronze Star, and a Silver Owl ✦ A full moon necklace with one side of the pendent being silver and the other half being a midnight blue color, Making a crescent shaped moon followed by a silver chain ✦ A golden ring with a dark green butterfly crowned on top. (Gifted to Crystal from Alastor) ✦ Wooden light browned clipboard with a shiny silver clip and a dark blue tipped pen

➤ Rainy Day:

➥ Hair Style: Down and wavy ✦ Helox yellow rain jacket with a hoodie attached ✦ Black rain pants with big Velcro pockets on the thigh side of the legs ✦ Matching shiny yellow boots ✦ Black knee socks ✦ Pale yellow sports bra with a white outline ✦ Pale yellow boy shorts with a white outline ✦ A sunflower umbrella (Gifted to Crystal from Alastor) ✦ A waterproof digital watch that has white numbers and a black stainless steel strap + black genuine leather

➤ Swimming And The Beach:

➥ Hair Style: Hair up in a very high pony tail ✦ Two piece bathing suit ✦ Top piece is black with soft ruffles in front of it ✦ Bottom piece is black. The top of the bottoms is slightly see through while the further down you get it turns into solid black ✦ Black sunhat with a white bow wrapped around it ✦ Bath towel aquatic with different colors of fish ✦ Big dark blue and clear googles

➤ Sleepy Clothes:

➥ Hair Style: Messy bed head + hair down wavy ✦ Light pastel rainbow socks ✦ No bra and underwear on ✦ Soft light blue pajama pants with a white silhouette deers patterned on them ✦ White tank top with a silhouetted sonic the hedgehog with black bold text above it stating “Snooze, you lose!” ✦ Alternative to the tank top, She has a soft dark blue long sleeved pajama shirt

➤ Tis’ The Season:

➥ Hair Style: Down and wavy ✦ Ms. Clause suit complete fit ✦ Instead of a Santa’s hat she wears dark brown antlers to match her boyfriend’s already present one’s ✦ Black leather choker with ringing yellow bells around it ✦ Along with bracelets on each wrist that are made of black leather with ringing yellow bells ✦ Dark red lace bra and underwear set ✦ Black stockings with black shiny boots

➤ Fancy Soiree:

➥ Hair Style: Low braided bun with a silver hair clip holding it up with dark blue roses ingrained into it ✦ Navy blue and silver ball gown ✦ Back style are crossed straps ✦ Embellishment are Appliques, Backless, Beading, Silver Glitter, Silver Lace, Ruffle, Sequins. ✦ Hemline / Train are Floor-Length / Long ✦ Material is Tulle ✦ Neckline is Off-The-Shoulder ✦ Sleeve is short sleeved ✦ Occasion is for dancing ✦ A silver ring with a moonstone as the head (Gifted to Crystal from Alastor) ✦ A silver chained necklace with a sapphire as the pendent (Gifted to Crystal from Alastor) ✦ Two silver bangle bracelets on each wrist ✦ Navy blue push up bra with a little lace and underwear to match

➤ Social Gathering:

➥ Hair Style: Hunny bun style with a tan hair tie holding it together ✦ Outerwear trench coat masquerade coat (Gifted to Crystal from Alastor For Christmas) ✦ Red on the outside of the coat and black on the inside of the coat ✦ V neck lace shaped with three vertical shiny black buttons down the middle ✦ Black lace cuffs ✦ Black leather boots with vertical silver buttons that go across the boot ✦ Purple / black lace bra and black boy shorts with a purple bow around it ✦ Silver ring with a purple rose diamond as the head (Gifted to Crystal from Alastor) ╔═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╗

Professional Status

➥ Occupation: • Serial killer (formally) • • Lyricist and Playwright • • Overlord • • Social Media Coordinator for the Hazbin Hotel • .•° ✿ °•. .•° ✿ °•. .•° ✿ °•. .•° ✿ °•. .•° ✿ °•. .•° ✿ °•. .•° ✿ °•.

Abilities

✙ Water Creation Black Magic ➡️ She can create anything out of water and ice particles.   ✙ Weather Control ➡️ She can control the following; Rain, Snow, Hail, and Mists. She could even pin-point the location of the change in weather. Lastly she can determine how heavy or soft the weather gets. ✙ Tempature ➡️ She can control how hot or cold the liquid in question is. She could easily turn water into ice. If she evaporated the ice quickly it could leave serious burns on the opponent. ✙ Water Teleportation ➡️ Water rushes up from her feet, Covering her whole body till she arrives at her destination. ◤ Limitations: Dehydration. Lack of imagination to create. Lastly her emotions flow like water so if she is not in the right head space she could easily lose control of whatever she casts.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Family Tree

 ♡ = Good relationship ❌= Bad relationship

♡ Deceased biological mother to Crystal & Albert; Iris ‘Chrysalis’ Lakewater ♡ Father; Hendrix ‘Quinn’ Lakewater ♡ Younger brother; Albert ‘Coy’ Lakewater ❌ Ex-husband; Jaxon ‘Draco’ White ❌ Deceased Step mother; Eva ‘Cornelia’ Paloma ❌ Deceased Step eldest sister; Eloise ‘Celeste’ Paloma ╰━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╯ ╰━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╯ ╰━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╯

Afterlife Relationships

╰─▸Significant other; Alastor. ╰─▸Friends; Charlie Morningstar, Valentino, Rosie, Husk, And Niffty. ╰─▸Enemies; Vox, Velvet, Mimzy (Rival) And Sir Pentious. ╰─▸Others; Angel Dust, Cherri Bomb, Lucifer, Lilith, And Vaggie. ━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━

Fun Facts

➡️ Crystal’s hands are black that enhance all the way to her elbows. ➡️ Crystal’s nail color is forever black. ➡️ Crystal has PTSD and Insomnia trauma that never fully healed. ➡️ Crystal can speak broken German due to her father being from Germany. ➡️ Crystal has a very loose Irish accent due to her deceased mother being from Ireland. ➡️ Crystal wears glasses for reading even though she doesn’t need to. She claims it’s for the aesthetic when asked. ➡️ Crystal’s favorite alcoholic beverage is an Aperol Spritz. Which Husk is always fully stocked on. ➡️ Crystal’s favorite holiday is Christmas. Crystal is always starry-eyed whenever the holiday is mentioned. Crystal has enough holiday spirit through the entire month of December. Which Charlie is always pleased to see. ➡️ Crystal’s favorite genre of music is Soft Rock. ➡️ Crystal’s least favorite genre is Heavy Metal and Dubstep. Never really got the appeal of such things. ➡️ Crystal’s favorite food is pot roast with potato’s and carrots. ➡️ Crystal’s least favorite food is anything spicy not because it tastes bad but because her mouth physically can’t handle it. Alastor had to learn that the hard way. ➡️ Crystal’s favorite movie is anything Disney. ➡️ Crystal writes poetry about Alastor but doesn’t tell him due to embarrassment. ➡️ Crystal’s favorite song is Landslide by The Chicks. Her mother would sing this song while pregnant with her. It holds a very sentiment place in her dead heart. ➡️ Crystal is not a morning person unlike Alastor. Polar opposites for sure. ➡️ Crystal either sleeps on their stomach or on their side. ➡️ Crystal doesn’t snore or make any noise while sleeping. She is a very quiet sleeper. ➡️ Crystal desperately tries to decorate Alastor’s antlers for Christmas but fails miserably. One day maybe.

[sugucidal]

# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!

CHAPTER i. [3k words]

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: with winter break having rolled around the corner, you’ve decided to spend it with your family back at home. it felt nice being back after 2 years away at university. you just wish your mom had told you that a certain guest was visiting. one that you hadn’t expected to ever have to face again.

୨୧‬┊warnings: fluff! + age gap (reader is 19 and toji is 34) + taboo content (cause what’re u doin tryna get tojis middle aged ass in ur bed smh) + slice of life kind of (??) + suggestiveness + humor + reader is in her winter bimbo era + toji is…toji. + no smut yet sorryy + slight slowburn + everything is legal! no ones going to jail!

୨୧‬┊a/n: first chapter woohooo !!! second chapter will finally be coming out on [redacted] <3

‪MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part iii.

Tugging at the sleeves of your jacket further down your hands, you let out an exhale, nerves set ablaze. The typical cool spring air was colder than usual this particular night out, sun having already set and moon shining up into the dark, starry sky.

Fiddling with the hem of your mini skirt, you gazed up, doe eyes glinting heatedly up at the man you've harbored adoration towards.

You were finally gonna confess.

"I want you."

The simple words that held so much weight filled the space between you both.

A sigh in response. Oh no. You already knew what was coming, but you hoped to any deity or god from above that it wouldn't turn out this way.

"Kid, you're way too young for me." The smoke blowing past his lips wafted through the stiff air, his scar pulling at the corner of his mouth in dismay. "If you were older maybe I'd consider it. Wouldn't bet on it though, since you're such a pain in the ass to deal with."

You let his words hang momentarily, trying to come up with a sufficient rebuttal. You knew he was only playing when he said you were a pain to deal with but it still stung your heart to hear it coming from him. But you weren't gonna give up that easily. You've had a crush on this man ever since he moved into the neighborhood years ago!

What started out as innocent puppy love slowly built its way into this desire, stemmed deep at the heart the older you got. You'd watch as he invited women into his home late into the hours of the night, clinging onto him like a leech in a body of lakewater. God, how you wish it was you he'd have brought into his home on those late nights. Lustfully gazing down at you with promises of this being the best you'll ever have, one you'd be thinking back on until the day you die.

He knew exactly just how much you craved for his touch. It wasn't hard to see that he felt the same, you could see it in the way he'd glance in your direction whenever you purposely wore something revealing, hoping to catch his eye. He told you that you shouldn't wear things like that at your age around men, that they were dangerous, intentions impure. As if he wasn't one of those men he was warning you about. But despite it all, he always looked the other way. Kept a boundary of barbed wire up, no way of climbing through. Frankly, it was annoying.

You hate when people play hard to get.

"So...you mean once I'm 18, you'll take up my offer?" If he couldn't get with you because you were 'too young' then surely he'd concede if you were legally an adult...right?

"Not exactly what I said, but sure," Taking one last final drag of his cigar, he stomped it out onto the pavement, sharp eyes gazing at you discerningly one last time before turning the other way.

"Whatever gets you off my case."

That was the last time you spoke with Toji and almost 2 years have gone by since then. The rejection after the confession hurt no doubt, but the avoidance of Toji towards you afterwards, hurt like salt to a fresh wound.

You rarely saw him after that, suddenly out for weeks to months at a time for work. Sometimes he'd come by when he was free and have idle chats with your parents any time they saw him down the neighborhood. Not bothering to spare a polite greeting or glance in your direction whenever you were present. What used to be a strong bond between family friend and their doting daughter, having met him at an early age, quickly turned awkward and tense, distance overtaking whatever there once was.

You regret talking to him that night every single day.

Unfortunately, you couldn't bring back the past and fix your fuck up. On the other hand, the days of being immature and bratty were long gone. Having been replaced by someone more mature and less dense.

Living off pre-packaged noodles and staying up till 6 am finishing up assignments for your university classes due the next hour, does that to a person you suppose.

Now with winter break finally having rolled around the corner, you were able to get that good night's sleep your exhausted ass had been craving for. And the home cooked meals your mother had waiting for you was certainly appreciated as well.

Lugging your bags up the front steps to your parents' quaint home, you took a quick look at the classic 'welcome home' mat under your feet that you were sure still hid a key underneath. Lifting the corner of the mat your suspicions were confirmed.

You'd think they'd realize how unsafe this could be one of these days.

Before you could place the key through the silver lock, you were instead met with the distinct sound of hard, oak wood doors being unlocked and swung open.

"Baby, you're finally home! Get in quickly, come on now." Your mother hastily ushered you in, calling over your father to help carry your bags further inside the warmth of your home. The key you held was quickly dropped on the small table near the entrance, and the door kicked shut. The signature smell of a vanilla sugar cookie candle being burnt filled your nostrils, the rest wafting through the air. Anyone would think your family baked with the way they always seem to choose that particular scent regardless of season or weather. Further glancing around, you watched your family's pet cat prance towards you, its furry face wide eyed and complaining to be held. You swear he acted like a dog sometimes.

Guess some things never change.

You just hoped that would've stayed true for a certain someone.

Before you had any more time to dwell on it, you were taken out of your thoughts by the mention of the name you had barely begun to ponder over.

'Speak of the devil', you sighed.

Walking over to the living area, you followed your father picking up your cat on the way, butting in, "Hm? what was that?"

"You remember Toji right?" Nodding your head, your father continued. "We invited him over for dinner tonight."

You paused in your step. "What? Why?" The confusion in your voice was surely noticed. You couldn't exactly say you were unhappy, hell you felt giddy at just the mention of his name, but you were still hung up on the past and weren't ready to face the man that blew off your poor naive, little heart. If you saw his handsome face in person again that's been embarrassingly haunting your dazed mind whenever you're busy writhing and whining atop your soft, cozy sheets—at that dinner table, you might just take the 2 hour car ride back to campus dorms.

You were just a pussy like that. One that couldn't face the culprit of those lingering feelings that had never ceased to falter throughout the years, dead in the eye.

The two quietly glanced at each other at your sudden change in demeanor, eyebrows raised. Before he could continue your mom piped up first, "What do you mean by 'why'? You haven't seen each other in so long. He misses you and I'm sure you two would like to catch up."

"Misses you" You swear your heart might've actually stopped beating. In what world would Toji Fushiguro have missed their friends young daughter after being told straight to their face that they wanted him to fuck her.

"He..misses me?" It sounded a little unbelievable saying it outloud.

"Mhm, after you left for University he asked about you a couple times, wondering when you'd be back to visit," Turning around to walk into the kitchen to get started on dinner, she smiled over her shoulder at you once more, "You must've really left an impression on him."

Nervously laughing you settled your cat down, watching him stride over to sip some water from his bowl.

"Yeah..quite some impression alright."

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Okay. Okay it's fine. Yeah you haven't seen him in years but it's fine! He's just coming over for dinner. You'll greet him with a friendly smile, he'll ask how you've been- or shit, maybe he won't. Maybe he'll just ignore you again like he's already done. Toji mentioning to your parents that he misses you was probably just a misunderstanding and he meant to say the weather has been misty- yeah. Totally plausible.

"What the hell am I doing.." Taking a once-over to look yourself in the mirror, you just finished applying the finishing touches to your makeup, wiping off any excess gloss at the corner of your lips with a q-tip for a sharp finish. Was the gloss necessary given the fact that it was going to be smudged off during dinner anyway?

The answer was yes. Yes It was.

Just because you were having a small dinner that was probably gonna be awkward as hell with a man you've been wanting- didn't want to see, shouldn't mean you couldn't at least look cute.

A sudden faint sound of muffled talking took you out your inner monologue. Putting away your array of makeup displayed on the varnished wood countertop of your vanity, you walked over to the door pressing an ear against it trying to discern what was being said.

'Hm sounds like there's someone else down there..' quietly poking a head out into the hallway you just barely made out a deep yet familiar voice before quickly being startled by your mother calling out your name.

"Hon, come down and greet Toji!"

Fuck. "C–Coming!" straightening up, you calmed your blazing nerves, mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of awkward tension that your parents luckily knew nothing of. Bless their complete oblivion.

Walking out into the hallway and down the stairs your eyes immediately locked onto Tojis, gaze shyly looking away and focusing onto nothing in particular. You were better off staring at something near him than at him directly.

Approaching towards where they stood, you tried your best to look as confident as possible. You're a woman now. Not some doe. At least that's what you feel like telling yourself at this moment, as you pick at your nails. Standing straighter, you stood next to your parents, watching as they finished up their talk.

You haven't had a proper conversation with Toji since, well...that night. Not counting the usual greetings you had exchanged with him in the past when you saw each other after. If you could even call it that. If a glance of bare acknowledgement was considered a greeting, then sure. Yet here you were right in front of him, determined to set things right. You had to confront him, it was the only way you'd be able to heal the wound of the past and maybe, even let go.

But first, you'll have to actually talk to him.

Deciding to finally look up at Toji, you were able to make out his features more clearly. He hadn't changed much since you last saw him, still very much tall, and his ever so brooding presence never waned. His jaw was somehow even more defined than before, and he was still rocking the same haircut as he always did.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it I guess.

Overall, he looked good. Better. The best. As he most likely always will be in your eyes.

And you're so lost in your own thoughts that you don't even notice Toji looking down at you in the corner of his eye, trying to hold back a smirk that's beginning to creep up. Silly you, ogling him so openly in front of your own parents. Not like they bothered to ever notice though.

Hearing the three of them laugh about something pulled you away from your stupor, and your attention was immediately latched onto Toji who was the first to speak.

Hopefully he didn't notice you being a creep.

"It's been a while, huh? You still remember me?" You know he's only teasing by asking if you still "remembered" him. The old you would've sassed him up for asking something silly like that, but you don't know if its a good idea to get ahead of yourself and start pulling on his leg this early on.

So you opt for the safest response.

With a polite smile on your lips, you shrugged your shoulders, "Of course. It hasn't been that long."

Toji stared at you for a moment. Shit. Did he not like that answer..?

Then you felt something warm come into contact with the top of your head; it was Toji's hand. Toji was petting you. Or more like ruffling your hair—same difference.

"You barely changed."

You exhaled a breath you didn't even know you were holding. A moment longer in silence and you don't think you'd be able to hold back the urge to run back up those stairs, slam the door shut behind you, and scream into your pillow.

Why were you so nervous!? You're never nervous when it comes to Toji.

'What's up with me??''

Regardless, you felt yourself being left annoyed at his comment. Disappointed that he probably still saw you as some kid despite not certainly looking or being one at all for that matter.

Too bad you didn't realize he meant it in a different way.

Even if you tried to hide it, Toji could still make out the way you held your hands behind your back, most likely fidgeting with your nails. Seems you've changed, the thought amusing him. The old you he knew would've pounced on him by now, batting your lashes, staring up starry eyed thinking you were being discreet about it.

Nothing gets past him, especially not when you make it so obvious. One thing that hasn't changed though, are the clothes you seemed to purposely wear around him, and him only.

The moment he saw you walk down those stairs, he knew you had him wrapped around your finger all over again. The too short skirt and see-through slip on you adorned leaving almost nothing to the imagination, if not for the cream colored cardigan you wore hiding the slivers of skin, leaving him wanting more of what was underneath.

'What a damn tease..' But Tojis eyes averted by the time your parents noticed your descend towards them. He didn't exactly want them seeing him ogle their daughter so openly.

Before any one of you could say anything more, your mother cut the greetings short. "Great, now that we're all finished reuniting again, let's start eating before the food gets cold."

Walking a little ways behind you, Toji catched the way your hips swayed as you walked. Whether you were doing it intentionally or not, he couldn't say for sure.

But one thing he was sure about, is that you were going to give him one hell of a hard time.

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The rest of dinner went by quickly. Once you were all seated, your parents and Toji had no problem talking with each other. They were busy discussing something, but your mind was too occupied to actually listen in on what they were saying. Too busy playing around with the food on your plate as your mind ran aimlessly, and foot twitching anxiously.

The night could've been worse. Really, it could've. Sure you haven't made any progress yet, but you'll get there! Overall, nothing particular happened. Except for one thing.

Toji couldn't stop looking at you.

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

Before you knew it, dinner had come to an end. Toji had already taken his leave and bid you all a 'thanks for the meal' and a goodbye. Finally. Now you can slip away to your room, wipe off your makeup, and lay awake in your bed as you regret everything you could've said and done tonight but didn't without anyone noticing–

"Where do you think you're going?" There stood your mom, looking at you expectantly. Were you missing something?

"To my room, why?"

"Didn't you hear at dinner?"

'Was I supposed to hear something at dinner?'

"No, hear what exactly?"

"Tomorrow, you're going out to buy some decorations for a party we're having."

A beat of silence. Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as you wondered why the hell you would be having a party.

"Mom… I appreciate that you want to host a welcome back party for me, but there's really no need to." It's sweet that they missed you this much, but you weren't one for parties that were centered around you.

She laughed. "No, no, not a party for you. I know you don't like that kinda stuff,"

Oh. Nevermind then.

"Our annual winter get together. We do it every year with the rest of the neighborhood and we're the ones hosting this time. Have all those cup noodles gotten to your head and you suddenly forgot?" She shook her head in disappointment.

Low blow, mom.

"I didn't forget! I just...didn't know you'd be the ones doing it this year."

"If you were actually paying attention at dinner then you'd have heard."

"Sorry. So, tomorrow you want me to go out and buy decor right? Cool, I'll go after lunch."

Thinking that was the end of that, you began to trudge your way towards the staircase. Already almost at the top when your mother called out to you once more.

"Oh! and Toji's accompanying you."

Yup, definitely going to scream into your pillow tonight.

© DIVINEDABI 2023 — All rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[riaki]

an excuse to touch | suguru geto x reader

pt.2 of christmas event! cw: reader is kinda drunk, u and him have a bunkbed but he always sleeps w u on the lower bunk :3

not proofread

"su— guru!"

he knows that pitchy voice; a lilt to it that tells him you've been drinking. a slur that links your breathy words together like the taut strings of a spider's web that's so imperceptible that it would've been impossible to pick up, unless you were him. because suguru knows you better than anyone else.

you say his name weird, which means you've indulged on the bottle of liquor your next-door neighbor brought you that morning, wrapped in a pretty festive ribbon with a snowman drawn into the cork. "my son drew it," your neighbor had explained, and suguru wonders how good of a parent he is, to be letting his 6 year-old doodle on a bottle of wine.

he doesn't have time to concern himself with other people's lives, however. he has his hands full making sure you don't topple into the christmas tree you'd both worked your asses off to decorate last weekend when you stumble into the living room like you're walking on two left feet, threatening to trip over the cord connecting the soft yellow lights to the outlet in the wall. he distinctly remembers the argument you had last night— you thought rainbow lights would look nicer on the tree, but he liked just yellow. in the end, he'd gotten what he wanted— but there wasn't much to gain when you had stolen his sweater and refused to give it back as a vengeance. and now, he couldn't find it.

"right here," he calls, looking up at you from where he's seated on the couch in your living room. the little tv screen plastered to the wall has a fake fire playing over the screen; he knows you love the immersion, even if your apartment complex doesn't have a fireplace or a chimney.

you make your way over to his chair and promptly fall into his already-waiting arms. he pulls you flush to his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting you snuggle up to him in his lap. his callused hand immediately snakes up your back to slip beneath your shirt, massaging your back. his embrace is warm; soft. and he smells good, like pine needles and something gently sweet, a little smoky.

soon, your hands find his hair, winding a trail up his neck to thread into the dark strands and pull out the tie. before you can move any further, though, a hand darts out to catch your wrist, and the other moves to tilt your chin up and force you to meet his stern gaze, warm like amber resin on the tree bark.

"[name], where's my sweater?" he asks, raising an accusatory eyebrow. just like that, you shrink away, and he smothers the snicker of amusement that threatens to spill out like hot cocoa with a hand over his lips.

you blink, and he watches your eyelashes flutter. they catch the fake firelight, glowing like billowing reeds under a bright sun in lakewater that reflects the summer sky. "i dunno." a blatant lie; obviously, you do know, because a bit of the red string has tangled in your hair. it was crocheted for him by a friend; you'd think a doctor would have good needle skills, but operating on a patient might be easier than operating on a DIY crocheting kit and a bundle of old string. nevertheless, he took the ugly christmas sweater and cherished it; the scent of cigarette smoke and faintly sterile tiles that clung to it.

but suguru was pretty sure that would soon be replaced by the scent of you, if you kept it much longer. not that he minded, of course.

"i, uh. dropped it. in the fire." you said bluntly, stubbornly weaving your hands into his hair and pulling out his hair tie insistently. a few strands caught; even as drunk as you were, you still took the time to smooth out the tangles so you didn't accidentally rip out a patch of his hair. crude as it was, suguru appreciates little things about you like that. not the fire part, though.

"you dropped it in the fire." he echoes, raising an eyebrow. it feels condescending in a very suguru (read: affectionate) way, so you look away, lower lip sticking out. he thinks that just makes you cuter, though; you look like something straight out of his dreams. he can barely bring himself to be irritated.

"um, yeah."

"so.. it burned up?"

"yes."

"you don't have it anymore."

"no, i don't."

"the fire isn't real," he reminds you quietly; softly if you strain your ears.

"but it's so warm over here. and nice, and cozy. what else could it be?" you protested, flailing your arms as if hitting him would force him to reconcile with your beliefs. suguru just opts to lean away from you, an amused and easy smile on his lips. like he's looking at you in adoration; like you're still the one who was molded from clay to fit in his arms even though you supposedly 'burned' his sweater up.

"not sure," he hums, watching as you stand up on two shaky legs like a newborn doe away from its mother's side; the soft glow from the light of the christmas tree gently illuminating your frame. he wishes he could tug you back by the wrist and kiss you breathless, run his hands over you ever lovingly. "you're just like my personal little space heater." he chuckles, soft smooth and melodic, and it snaps you from your tipsiness as you glance back over at him. “fools me into thinking the fire’s real.”

his hair is loose, tumbling over his shoulders and framing his face like a renaissance prince under the soft light; the brown of his eye shines a gentle caramel, soft and smooth as butter and syrup. there’s an easy smile that curves his lips up; he looks unfairly handsome. he thinks he can catch sight of his reflection in the void of your pupil; it looks like there's a birdnest on his head. he frowns, reaching a hand up to muss the tangled black strands. the windows in the living room are vignetted by a frosted glass, a cold world of white waiting outside. it's almost enough to make him shiver, but here, in the warmth of your presence, the snow melts away with the sunshine of your smile.

his fingers catch in his hair and he lets out a pained grunt. he's straightening his bangs when he looks up from his comfy seat on the couch; you're across the room, sitting on the soft wool carpet. there's a stain on the bundles of fluff, constantly hanging over the both of your heads to remind you of how you'd been enjoying a shared cup of hot cocoa with candy cane chunks when your nasty feline sauntered over and promptly jumped into your lap yet again, knocking over the mug and pouring its terribly sweet and sticky contents onto the wool. it had haunted suguru's domestic household nightmares for days after. your evil cat is curled up in your lap, fluffy mitten paws tucked beneath its head as it naps, and suguru doesn't like the flare of jealousy that springs up in his gut.

you catch the look of disdain on his face and shoot him a lazy smile, tilting your head. it's an invitation if he's ever seen one-- deserved, he thinks to himself. that should be him with his head in your lap, your hands in his hair, smoothing out each individual knot, gently massaging his scalp in the way you knew he loved.

...

he shakes his head and stands, brushing the lint (and cat fur— always a pest) off his sweats and saunters over to you; there's that familiar gait in his step from always walking hunched over during his earlier years of youth. sometimes, you'll build a little pillow fort on your bunk bed and settle in his arms between his legs and listen to him tell you stories from a time that seems so long ago but so fresh like new mint leaves in his memory. he'll play with your clothes, bury his nose in your hair and breathe in the scent of home and something like apples and cinnamon in your shampoo. those fun little story nights are always enjoyable, only because he has the best audience.

he squats down, balancing his elbows on his knees as he peers down at you. your cat in your lap lifts its head, looking like the very dictionary definition of judgmental as it squints at suguru. you just laugh, like silver bells clear in a snowstorm, parting the howling wind as if it's the red sea. paving a path straight through the center of his heart like some cursed cupid's arrow.

he doesn’t mind, though, when you scoot your cat off your lap and open your arms wordlessly. he scoots a little closer before settling into you, back flush against his chest as your arms lock around his waist. you rest your chin on his shoulder and he can’t help the rush of butterflies in his stomach; suguru’s never been the type for this sort of girlish, giddy love. but you always bring new things to the table, don’t you? he loves that about you.

suguru settles into your arms, tilting his head to intercept the kiss he knows you’re about to plant to his cheek to instead meet your lips with his, and he swallows and relishes the little surprised gasp that leaves you when he does. a moment later, he hears a pretty little giddy laugh, and he can’t fight the smile that spreads over his lips.

"you're so soft," he whispers, and it's much more exhausted than he thinks it has any right to be, on such a comforting night like this when your laugh smells of sweet liquor wrapped in chocolate and you serve as good of a sweater as any clearance sale item could.

and soon enough, your fingers slide into his hair, separating soft dark strands like you're organizing a collection of seashells. it takes him a while to notice, but he soon realizes you're braiding his hair. the wind howls outside and the fake fire doesn't provide any heat, but your gentle touch and warmth feel like a cozy throw blanket hanging around his shoulders. and he feels okay now; with the way you run your fingers through his hair, delicately gathering the strands from his hair and running a thumb down the length to smooth the knots, weaving them together like a natural crown of holly flowers.

you brush a stray strand from the nape of his neck, and he shivers when your fingertips brush against the tip of his ear. he can't help but smile when you notice the goosebumps on his bare arms and free one hand to reach for his, tangling your fingers together while you untangle the mats in his hair. it's far too cold for him to be wearing that simple, worn white cotton shirt, but he doesn't mind if you'll be the one to keep him warm through this cold season.

it's all fine and dandy until he speaks up again, when you're nearly falling asleep over his head and your arms drape over his chest, toying with the sapphire necklace around his neck. your little cute breaths tickle the top of his head; you've finished the braid. it's a little messy and stray hairs stick out here and there— but at least you didn't settle for pigtails.

when he speaks, it's not directed towards you, though— he's speaking to your cat, with a stern tone you only recognize as the one he uses with you whenever your clothes end up on his side of the drawer or when his jewelry (or hairties) go missing.

and when you open your eyes groggily after suguru shifts to sit up, feeling the dreary loom of a mini hangover after you fall asleep in his arms tonight— you're blessed with the sight of your beloved house pet— a shredded chunk of tacky fabric from suguru's sweater in its mouth, and the death glare that you can only imagine contorting your handsome boyfriend's face.

needless to say, your cat will be nowhere around the two of you when you decide to share a therapeutic cup of hot cocoa again this time.

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[theragethatisdesire]

official excerpt of rage's top secret wip quick bright things - coming to a tumblr dash near you soon &lt;3

i am super nervous to post this for some reason (?!?!) however. please enjoy this blurb of a story i really like that i've been building for a bit. i'm currently sitting around 5.5K and i'm not even halfway there, but we persevere! lil moodboard i posted as well linked here. :) enjoy i missed u guys, i hope u love this small glimpse<3

-

What you can be sure of is that something down the line—between meeting Sasha in that class on Milton and squeezing her hand as the plane landed and the dozens of bottles of champagne you’ve consumed over the last weeks—something led you to this moment, standing in this kitchen somewhere outside Verona with your bare feet against the hot clay tiles, staring at the sharp angle of an unfamiliar, tanned collarbone. 

He’s coated in linen: a half-unbuttoned, burnt-orange drape of a shirt is rolled carefully up around strong forearms, and one large, boyish foot peeks out from his baggy jeans, propped up on its throne upon the opposite knee. A golden cross winks at you from his chest, nestled in the sparsest dusting of chest hair and dripping with the same peach juice that’s sliding down his Adam’s apple, from his strong chin, from the crooked smirk that’s pointed at you like a knife.

You recognize him before he speaks– this must be Eren. Sasha’s mentioned him enough times: the shock of rich, dark hair, the lakewater eyes, the way he leans back in his chair like a king and cocks his head like a trickster. This is Eren, and you tell him so.

“Guilty.” The sun compliments everything about him but his smile, a little too sharp with too much danger behind it. It’s a smile made for moonlight. “And you are?”

A memory surfaces in your mind, a cautionary childhood tale. “You can never let a fairy know your name,” Emma tells you, graver than death, crouched in the bushes beside you, “or they steal you away, and you can never be human again.”

-

yes we are going back to italy!!! for good this time!!!!! i'm dying to talk about this so please drop any questions/thoughts you have in my inbox, this one is going to be chock full of references and lore and just lots of cool symbolism and whatnot. i cannot wait to just finish and drop just so we can all talk about it lol.

pleeeease come hang in my inbox with any questions or thoughts you may have :)) i am so excited !!! i love u guys!!!

[zhongrin]

cruel

◇ characters ◇ albedo

◇ tags ◇ ⚠️ torture, gore, violence, major character death, dark themes, mindbreak(?), angst ⚠️ ⬙ just... don't tell me i didn't warn you haha

◇ a/n ◇ *AGGRESSIVELY BANGS POTS AND PANS* ALBEDO KISSERS WAKE UP I MADE FOOD *serves you a plate of stir-fried bitter gourd with jueyun chilis*

one day, everything will return to the soil of teyvat.

humans, animals, plants, chalks - it matters not who or what you are, when celestia calls for your soul, you have to depart. it doesn't matter how hard you wish to stay. it matters not how determined the others are for you to stay. they say your death is sealed from the day you were born, and just like him who will one day turn into dust, he understands that you will do the same.

all he ever wished for was for the moment leading to your eternal rest to be a peaceful one.

....

why can't the cruel monsters gods at least grant him that single wish?

he's never hated alchemy in his life, but he's starting to think he does, now.

now, when bruises and cuts are blooming across your body, like some sort of a sick painting that constantly changes when touched. your eyes are unfocused, and you've long since abandoned the efforts to keep quiet, yet your screams have long since settled into silent hisses and breathless whimpers.

"feel like talking yet, chief alchemist?! now tell us where you're keeping rhinedottir's potion of wisdom!!"

"i-i don't have- there are no-" he gasps, voice thin and desperate and weak, "please-"

albedo rarely stutters - his words are always calculated and precise, and he's always been able to articulate himself perfectly, always able to unknowingly flaunt his intelligence without any conscious effort on his part. but it's like something in his brain has switched off completely.

he doesn't even know if you're conscious anymore. if you're even still alive at this point, because your blood is everywhere: the cold stone floor, the fatui mages' clothes, his tied-up hands (they had allowed him to hold you at first but they took you away out of his arms' reach when he kept denying their accusations), his clothes (they've all dried up and they clung to his skin and he felt sick from how cold they felt), and his cheek (how long has it been since you two were taken? how long until the knights of favonius arrive? how long until you decide to give up? how long until his sanity breaks?)

he thinks he hears a sickening crack when the battle boots slammed onto your palm. one of your legs twitches, but no sounds escape your throat, and there was no indication that the action has hurt you, but he knows it has to be - your pain tolerance might be high but anyone would at least respond when their bones are smashed to bits. instead, as if it was albedo's own hand that received the brutal treatment, he's the one who yelled in pain.

"i don't have it!! i don't have it i don't have it i don't have it please-"

"hmph.... hey, maybe we should've picked the kid instead."

cold blue eyes widen. teeth gritting, albedo trashes against the shackles, feeling his eyes sting even more after all the prolonged raw crying and lack of sleep for who knows how long.

yet once again, his movements halt when the female cryo mage who had just spoken shrieked in shock as your other hand suddenly grabbed her ankle. relief flooded his chest - you're alive. you're alive and conscious and there's still hope left-

an ice shard

materializes on top of you

and plunges straight onto your back.

....

......

.........?

"ugh, gross! i thought you broke their arm!!"

"i'm pretty sure i did-"

radio static fills his ears, muting the conversations between the agents as his gaze falls towards your eyes. your eyes, where the stardusts should be sparkling and shimmering under even the dimmest light, are empty. devoid of everything, a dark pool of the color it used to be. like charred fishes floating on top of lakewater. the dead rats ransacking his 'supplies' laced with poison. the bird carcass he dissected for anatomical research.

meaningless. insignificant. fragile. 

so many hours,

days,

months,

seasons,

he has spent with you.

and yet your death was so quick.

the whisper of your name is soft and tender against his lips. fresh tears fill his eyes, even though he's qute sure he's already far too dehydrated at this point. he weakly tries to scoot over, just to get closer to you, just a little closer-

the agent beside him moves to kick your body away from him, and gloved fingers dig onto his scalp, pulling on the disheveled strands, his usual braids long since gone, his- no, your hair tie already missing since a long time ago. he realizes you were the one who helped him tie it last, and he's lost that, too.

albedo realizes that he misses your touch already. your voice your smile your laugh i miss you i miss you i miss you-

he doesn't even hear the fatui talking to him. doesn't feel the sting on his cheek and his busted lip when they slap him for being unresponsive.

doesn't realize who just came into the cell and causes everyone to tense up and bow respectfully.

"so the puppet still refuses to talk even after their fixer perishes? how amusing."

his throat constricts when this new person flips you over with his polished shoes, scrutinizing your body from behind his odd-shaped mask. he's seen the reports of this very person, though he doesn't exactly look the same as the old photo attached to the papers, but this has to be him.

he's struggling to breathe and all he manages to say is a short plea, "don't-"

one of the man's arms reaches down to hoist your limp form slightly upwards, and the way your head lolls lifelessly like a broken doll makes him choke back a sob. the doctor turns your face this way and that, as if he's inspecting a new specimen to experiment on. his stomach churns when he realizes that... that's all you're reduced to, right now, in this madman's eyes.

"acceptable, i suppose."

"don't you dare!" the guttural and low growl scratches his throat painfully. he thinks he can taste blood - oh, wait, he did injure the inside of his mouth long before while watching your battered body accumulate more and more wounds - "LEAVE THEM ALONE!" please please please don't desecrate them any further don't hurt them even more don't no no no no no no n o please-

"don't worry, kreideprinz."

dottore chuckles as he drags your lifeless body by your hair towards the door, further and further from him, only leaving a heavy trail of blood in its wake, the doctor's last sentence ringing in his ears as he feels the last bit of his sanity leave with you.

is he not even permitted to hold you and kiss you goodbye? can't he just look at you properly just one last time?

"even if they wake up, they won't remember your weak, pathetic self anymore."

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @paintingsofdragonspine | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer

ps. if you want to be removed/added from the taglist, just send an ask!

[mercuryclan]

MercuryClan's Beginnings.

When the storms hit DaisyClan, the thriving group was thrown into disarray. The territory became damaged beyond any known repair, a minefield of debris and hazards so unlike the lush landscapes they had known for generations. Lives old and young alike were snuffed out....such is the fate of a single disaster. The effects were devastating, but their leader, Beetlestar, insisted they could rebuild and thrive.

When the quakes came...few believed her words to be truth.

They had never thought it possible, but the state of DaisyClan had worsened. It was near unrecognizable, its already damaged fields marred with uneven cracks and scars, the few lingering prey animals all but vanishing.

Beetlestar tried to rebuild, but to some, her efforts were weak. No patrols searched for clean water or fresh food beyond their borders, a means that only had a meager end, and she refused to seek help from the neighboring BurrowClan. Could she not see her clan was starving and suffering?

Palestripe, a senior warrior of DaisyClan, took note of Beetlestar's insufficient actions and, growing ever tired of waiting for a solution the younger molly couldn't give, stood upon the Leader's Branch and announced her own dissent:

She could not die here waiting for a magical cure from StarClan that would never come! She would leave to find a new place, one that would provide in their time of need! If any cat wanted to live, they could join her.

Some, including Beetlestar, called her ridiculous, claimed she would never find what she sought - DaisyClan would rebuild with time and effort. Others joined her without a second thought.

It took a good while, but outside of the territories Palestripe knew, she and her ragtag clan found a place to call their own. It was by no means beautiful, with twoleg trash littering the place and the occasional odd, stagnant puddles. But shelter was abundant, and prey, while not abundant, was present. It was the best home they had, and by the Stars, they would make it work.

And so, blessed by StarClan when she went to meet them, Palestripe became Palestar, founding leader of MercuryClan. She would fix what Beetlestar could not.

ALLEGIANCES:

Leader: Palestar - A short-furred silver classic tabby molly with silver eyes. (138 Moons, 135 @ Start. 9 Lives Remaining)

Deputy: Frostyfeather - A long-furred silver classic tabby tom with blue eyes. (100 Moons, 97 @ Start.)

Healer: Lakewater - A medium-furred dark gray ticked tabby tom with yellow eyes. (42 Moons, 39 @ Start.)

Warriors:

Rainbowpath - A medium-furred brown and white molly with green eyes. (110 Moons, 107 @ Start.)

Glowfish - A short-furred dark gray ticked tabby molly with sunlit ice eyes. (88 Moons, 85 @ Start.) [apprentice: Mistlepaw]

Snailshell - A medium-furred masked light brown mackerel tabby molly with gold eyes. (56 Moons, 53 @ Start.)

Cherryleaf - A medium-furred black and gray classic tabby tom with blue eyes. He wears a pink nylon collar. (40 Moons, 40 @ Arrival.)

Apprentices:

Mistlepaw - A short-furred masked gray mackerel tabby molly with pale yellow eyes. (10 Moons, 7 @ Start.)

Elders:

Swampstripe - A short-furred orange and white sokoke tabby tom with blue eyes. (151 Moons, 148 @ Start.)

Kits:

Currentkit - A short-furred orange and white mackerel tabby molly with emerald eyes. (4 Moons, 1 @ Start.)

Asks are OPEN!!

[indie54-98]

This is Ritual by Poesie Perfumes

Ritual is a beautifully crafted atmospheric scent.  It transports you to the edge of a pine forest, sitting next to a cold, moonlit lake.  It makes you feel as if you had just finished performing a ritual under the full moon.  A stick of dragon’s blood incense has just finished burning, you’re about to light a clove cigarette to decompress.  The cold lake water is splashing against the rocky bank, the smell of the forest envelopes you.  The crisp breeze is stirring fallen leaves and pine needles. 

The pine in this is really lovely, it’s not overpowering and mixes with slightly damp, earthy fallen leaves, and the clove really well.  The incense is present only in the background, the smoke is light on the crisp fall air.  The aquatic note isn’t stagnant at all.  This lake isn’t dirty.  It’s clean and fresh and dark and cold, but still distinctly aquatic.  The leaves also aren’t musty or mildewy.  They just add a nice earthy quality to the bottom of the perfume.

Ritual is, in my opinion, the pinnacle of atmospheric perfumes.  I gave it a 3.8/5, which is, admittedly, rather low for what this perfume is giving.  I’m not a huge pine fan, so this one isn’t for me, but I urge you to try it if you can find a bottle or sample of it.  If you like pine scents or atmospherics this one is literally the most perfect scent I can recommend to you.

It's no longer available on Poesie's site as it was a part of their limited edition Dark Academia collection, but I'm sure you can find someone reselling it, possibly on the Indie Makeup and More subreddit on Sundays.

[scribblesforthemad]

There and Back Again - Part 16

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part sixteen warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, stressful situation, animal death? (demobats)

a/n: OOF writing this was a TIME. I promise more soft romantic fluff is coming, our heroes just have some supernatural battles to fight first!

taglist: @superflannel @kaitebugg03

Lover’s Lake was murky and dark, the moonlight penetrating only a few feet past the surface. You kicked downward anyway, forcing your muscles to move through the frigid water, scanning your surroundings for even the faintest glow of red.

Where is the gate? You thought as Eddie swam beside you, the fear on his face apparent even underwater. Strengthening your resolve, you dove further, your lungs starting to protest at the lack of oxygen. Where is it?

Suddenly, you spotted it—a glowing red oval the size of a bathtub sitting on the lakebed several yards below. Gotcha. You kicked with more force, the movement catching Eddie’s attention. You knew he would be questioning you, wondering what new circle of hell you were dragging him to, but you couldn’t afford to spend any more time reassuring him. Your air was running out.

Bubbles fell from your mouth as you neared Watergate, your head pounding from the pressure and the lack of air. You couldn’t tell if the haziness invading your vision was due to the dive or the invasion of ashy particles that floated up from the gate. You weren’t sure you wanted to find out.

Making one last, desperate kick, you propelled yourself through the gate, your stomach churning as gravity reversed and your head broke the surface. Coughing and spluttering in the ash around you, you hauled yourself onto the shore, careful not to touch any of the vine-like appendages surrounding the gate. You took deep breaths, gulping in the foul air of the Upside Down. At least there’s oxygen, you thought, though you were sure this air couldn’t be good for you. You stared anxiously at the gate as you recovered, waiting for that wonderful head of curly hair to appear.

Just as you were getting ready to dive back in after him, Eddie surfaced, gasping and choking just as you had done. Reaching for him, you helped haul him onto the bank, both of your arms shaking with exertion. It had been a hell of a night.

“Eddie,” you croaked as he wiped the water from his eyes, his chest heaving. “Are you okay?” He took a moment to answer, an almost maniacal laugh escaping from his throat.

“I’m just fine, Siren,” he said, the fear and exhaustion in his eyes giving away the lie. “I take it this is the…what did you call it? The Upside Down?” You nodded, wringing the lakewater from your hair—not that it mattered, seeing that your entire body was soaked. “But how did you know that—that thing would be there?” he asked, his teeth chattering from the cold.

“A new gate forms at every death site,” you explained, shivers wracking your frame. “When I heard the—” you winced, unable to speak the words. “When Patrick died, I knew there would be a gate at the bottom of the lake. A bunch of you went through it in the show.” Eddie nodded, considering.

“Wait,” he said, lifting his head suddenly. “Does that mean there’s one—”

“In your trailer, yes,” you said, your voice clipped as you remembered what would happen there. A concert, shrieking demobats, and—demobats. Your eyes opened wide, and you looked wildly up at the grey sky, scanning for any flying creatures. To your great relief, there were none in sight.

“What is it?” Eddie asked, scrambling back in alarm. “Did you see something?” You shook your head, the rush of fearful adrenaline too much for you to handle. You tried to take deep breaths, focusing on small things: the chips in your nail polish, the patches on Eddie’s jacket, the vine wrapping itself delicately around his wrist.

“Eddie!” you screamed, but it was too late. Sensing it had been caught, the vine pulled taught, lashing Eddie to the ground with a force greater than you would’ve thought possible. You tugged at it to no avail, screaming his name over and over—that was your big mistake. Hearing all the commotion, a horde of demobats came out of nowhere, hurtling toward you like a hail of bullets. Just like the nightmare, you thought, trying desperately to pull Eddie free of his bonds. He struggled too, but even your combined strength was no match for the murderous vine. You swore you could hear a low, cold chuckle as your throat grew raw from screaming.

As the demobats approached, you realized that you needed a weapon. Racing toward the pile of capsized boats around the gate, you grabbed an old oar. Testing it against your hand, you were grateful to find that it was sturdy, not sponge-soft from rot or age; it made a satisfying thwack against your palm. Running back to Eddie, you stood over him protectively as the swarm of bats attacked. They came at you from all directions, leaving you unsure of which way was up—an easy thing to lose track of in the Upside Down. You swung at them like baseballs; though your aim was poor, there were so many that more times than not, your strikes were rewarded with a shriek of pain from the evil creatures.

Suddenly, a piercing pain ran through your shoulder and you screamed. It burned and ached and stung and throbbed all at once, thousands of tiny, needlelike teeth piercing your skin and sinking deep into the flesh. With a wild cry, you tore the bat from your shoulder and threw it to the ground with more force than you thought you were capable of, accidentally breaking the paddle off your oar in the process. Desperate, you stabbed downward at the thing with the broken end of your makeshift club, impaling it completely and pinning it to one of the vines running over the ground. A shriek rose from the swarm around you, and they began to draw back—but not for long.

“Y/N,” you heard Eddie choke out, and you looked down to find that the vine you had stabbed was, in fact, the one holding him down. Scrambling to take his hand, you thrust viciously at the weakened vine until it released him, curling indignantly back on itself. “Thanks,” he panted, and you handed him your oar before running back to the boats to fetch another one.

“Keep them busy!” you shouted, turning away from him just as he hit what surely would’ve been a home run on a pair of bats diving for his face. Reaching the boats in record time, you snatched up another oar and sprinted back to Eddie. Standing with your backs together, you fought the swarm of beasts, each suffering bites and scratches in the effort, yelling wild battle cries and hoping, praying, that you would make it out of this alive. Time seemed to stop, and the violent dance of oar and bat and limb became your whole existence. Blood rushed in your ears, and you didn’t have time to think beyond the next strike. Sweat poured down your faces, but adrenaline kept you upright. You had no other choice.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the onslaught slowed; many bats had turned tail and flown away, and the bodies of several more littered the ground around you. You and Eddie slumped to the earth, utterly spent from the effort.

“Fuck,” he whispered, then louder, “Fuck! Jesus H Christ!” He ran a bloody hand through his sodden hair, spraying you with droplets of water and bat gore. You were too tired to care. He turned to you, the wild look in his eyes lessening as he took in your soaked, bloodied, and exhausted appearance. “Y/N,” he said, the urgency in his voice increasing. “You’re hurt, did one of them—”

“I’m fine,” you said hoarsely, waving his words away. “Just a small bite. We’ll fix it—later,” you said, still breathing hard. Eddie frowned, but said nothing, knowing that such an exposed location was no place to take a rest.

“Where can we go?” he asked, looking around hopelessly at the desolate lakebed. Thunder crashed in the distance, red lightning illuminating your surroundings in a dim, gory light.

“Skull Rock,” you said firmly, remembering the group’s flight from the second group of demobats. “Oh, fuck,” you said aloud—the second group of demobats. “We have to leave now. Right the fuck now.” Eddie stood, looking around frantically for the source of your fear.

Another flash of lightning filled the sky, and his eyes widened as he saw an enormous swarm of bats—dozens, maybe hundreds—making straight for the gate. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up.

“Run!”

You stumbled after him, forcing your tired limbs to obey your terrified mind. Why had you come here? You were going to get both you and Eddie killed, coming through Watergate alone, without weapons, without even telling anyone where you’d gone. Idiot, you cursed yourself, running beside Eddie for all you were worth.

“Come on, we’re almost there!” he yelled, glancing behind him at the approaching horde. “Shit shit shit shit shit!” Trees shot up around you, and at long last, you could make out the hulking form of Skull Rock twenty yards ahead. You redoubled your speed, sprinting for all you were worth before dropping into a baseball slide for the last few feet. You panted for air, looking up at the underside of Skull Rock above you—until Eddie slammed into you, knocking the wind from your lungs. You both coughed and wheezed, limbs tangled in the dirt underneath your makeshift shelter.

You could hear franting screeching and flapping outside, made louder by the echo on the rock. You held your breath, hoping against hope it would pass. Please, you prayed silently, begging for a break. Let them go past. Miraculously, they did, the sounds of angry chittering fading into the distance as they flew past Skull Rock to seek you elsewhere.

You and Eddie lay still on the forest floor, breathing heavily, too tired to speak, the intake of oxygen your singular and all-consuming need. After nearly five minutes of this, your heart rate was finally starting to slow, and your mind was beginning to process the horrifying images of teeth and wings and blood from mere moments before. Without your knowledge or agreement, a laugh began to bubble up from your gut, escaping from your mouth like a mad prisoner fleeing a dungeon. Eddie raised his head at once, looking around for the newest danger—but, finding none, he dropped back to the ground, and to your astonishment, began to join in your laughter.

It was a broken, messy sound, interrupted by coughs and wheezes and grunts of pain from your abused and exhausted bodies. Under any other circumstances, it would’ve been terrifying; you were sure the maniacal sounds leaving your mouth wouldn’t have been out of place in a horror movie. But there, after all the fear and trauma and adrenaline of the past hour, you couldn’t help but revel in it as if it were the sweetest sound in the world.

After several minutes of this, your laughter began to die down, your stomach muscles cramping in protest.

“I guess I got to take you to Skull Rock after all,” Eddie said, sending you both into another fit.

“Stop it, stop it,” you begged, wiping the tears from your eyes with a dirty hand. “I can’t laugh anymore.” Eddie took your hand in his and squeezed it in agreement, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, still breathing heavily. You lay hand-in-hand for several more minutes, recovering, utterly overwhelmed by the events of the evening. Finally, you squeezed Eddie’s hand and let go, making as if to stand.

“Y/N, wait,” Eddie said, voice rising with concern. “Where—where are you going?”

“We have to get out of here,” you said tiredly, your muscles protesting loudly at your sudden change in position. “Back to the Right Side Up. The normal world. Whatever.” Eddie’s face fell.

“I don’t—Y/N, I don’t think I can,” he said, his voice breaking on the last word. You frowned down at him, worrying that one of his wounds was more serious than it had seemed. As if sensing your thoughts, he spoke again. “I’m fine, it’s just—I can’t run anymore, I can’t fight anymore. Not without some rest. And much as I believe in you and all that sentimental crap, I don’t think you can either.” Your shoulders slumped, disappointed but knowing instinctually that he was right. If you tried to push your body any more, it would give out.

“Okay,” you said resignedly, flopping back on the ground. “We’ll spend the night here. Rest. Get out tomorrow.” Eddie only nodded, relief evident on his face. You lay down next to him, and he opened his arms to you. You nestled into them gratefully, the shared body heat warming both of your damp, shivering forms. It was going to be a long night.

[tofreezetime]

that, I always knew

[offwilds]

      Close to the Belleteyn, the sun barely rises, skims the heads of skeletal trees, and drops— its faint light a summon to the old blood of the sacred night; a summon to Maiden, Mother and Crone.

Mother gathers the terrors of the night in the curve of her palm, stretches her arms toward the sky, over rivers of blood and the dark woods, singing with all her skin and bone and sacred body, ancient chants and invokations, her body brimming with arcane powers; when the moon is blood and she, no more than a white shadow, bloodless as a moon on lakewater, she brings her to the woods, to the altar they have made— the both of them— to worship and do Frigg and Freya homage— her, Maiden, daughter of Chaos, her, borne of a bloodless womb, brought to the Goddess wreathed in starlight, in whistling winds; fear her, always — Morgante, whispers, lays her down amid the grass, wet with dew and ice-cold, the dark, rushing river that spills like threads of silver moonlight under the grove in which they pray, in which they spill their blood and make themselves an offering to the Goddess — Mother, bright-coiffed and tall and terrible, whispers in ancient, forgotten tongues, brings out her silver knife— the ceremonial blade they have too oft in the past used to make their offerings; Nereinne offers her hand in quiet devotion, bows her head over the shrine; a tomb-shrine she will later call it, that dark, cold place ablaze with a cold, white fire that burned in the middle of the glade,  a cairn of bleached bones, and as Mother chants and whispers ancient spells, as she spills her blood into a phylactery and binds life and death together, she stares blindly ahead, at the stars rising cold above the hills. The world seems narrowed to the tug of the knife in her hand, the faint scraping noise it makes as it slices through the flesh of her palm; she gasps, and pulls her hand away- only, she cannot move now, she realises, some thing cold and dark holding her down, its touch hollow, and she, a nothing, a gatherer of death, only, laying there, unfeeling, numb and cold as Morgante looms tall and  dreadful over her, spills her wisps of magic over her body,  something fragrant with rot coming to rest near her - and Goddess, she thinks, a frantic, wild thing - Goddess, I come to you wreathed in tears, shield me, your daughter, from The Mother, shield me, your daughter from The Crone -  and as Morgante moves and spills more of her blood into that sacred phylactery, Nereinne begins to feel her senses blur and fade; she screams, but neither voice nor sound comes out, her throat a tight, heavy thing, and, my pulse is hers, my water is hers, Morgante chants into her ear, and she feels her blood go rushing deep beneath her, a river of darkness, her heart beat pounding in the ground and it feels as though she is no longer flesh and bone, only a white shadow, brimming with death, that rot, that growth, the decay - death, her death or another’s, she does not know, she only knows, she is dripping in that blue-white fire now, she is howling but her mouth is shut, her bones are dust and light, she is leaving, she is going away, and then- then all is bright and then smolder-green black, a crow’s cries filling her ears- a woman, she thinks - a hag. Her voice is like nothing she has ever heard before. It seems to be coming from miles away, lacquered and greasy, and she feels it coursing through her like her own blood, feels her eyes burn with the sudden burst and blaze of lightning, rising in her again and again, burning her face. And then - she is gone, and Mother with her.

She lays there, from dawn to night fall, she, cold ancestor. Bloodless daughter of Chaos.  

When she wakes again, she is laying on the banks of a river, half naked and ice cold, her body wreathed in wisps of the pale blue mists moving across the waters. When she awakes, her blood is on her mouth, red and terrible, and she is flying through the trees, energy and magic both rolling off of her slight form in frantic and kinetic waves that have the skies rumbling with the promise of a storm and rain ready to pour down from the heavens. 

And she, no longer Maiden; she, only daughter of Chaos, touched by bright, endless Death, a frazzled, tragic mess of a creature - eyes shining and cheeks uncharacteristically flush as she runs and runs and runs, and never stops, 

Has never stopped, shall never stop, until Mother is given that which she desires, that which she is bearing for her: until that bloodless womb is filled once more with that which she shall summon for her— dry rot and everflowing death, the pulse of the Maiden inter-weaved with  that of the Crone's.

[arcstral]

🌅- A memory associated with a certain location.

     (  🌅  ;  memory associated with a certain location  )

               "I had a nursemaid,” he tells her, squinting, catching a spot that the stewards missed. While his hands thresh out the sleeping curtains and free them from a rigor mortis of two years worth of untouched dust. Seeing but not really seeing. Remembering. The sunlight settles heavily on one side of his face, etching the faintest outline of it in fire as he leans back on his heels.

               A moment later and his arms drop to his sides with a laugh. “She was named Rosemary. Not for a flower, but for a herb. Because her mother was sensitive to smells and that was what she liked. She hated her name, really, because she felt that something like magnolia or dahlia would have been better! Even just rose would do.”

               The cobwebs hung on the spandrel sway gently overhead on an invisible draft. Marth considers them for a single moment, eyeing the ceiling for the source, then shakes his head. Later, he’ll have the stonemason check the roof for holes.

               His steps sweep past the beautiful woman, fingers stretched out, drifting along the tops of the canvassed, shroud-covered furniture; a chipped dresser filled with spoiled powders that now smelled of mold, a wooden cradle missing a dozen rungs that either loyal soldiers or royal heretics had used for firewood in the previous war, and a rocking chair that had - by some miracle - remained blissfully intact. His feet halt here, not daring to disturb even this single evidence of life withstanding in a cemetery filled with old, broken, long dead things.

               “I remember she would seat me on her lap in this chair and tell me stories of the great heroes who lived a hundred years ago. I liked hearing about Anri and Iote the best. She had a way of spinning those tales... like the men who existed in them lived only a room over—”

               He stops to catch her words, before he can speak too fast.

               “What happened to her?” he echoes.

               A darkness clouds his eyes, some nameless sediment collected in the depths of lakewater blues; a shade of fury that would only ever truly fade away with a year or ten to soothe it. At least now there was no need for vengeance anymore. “She died. When word spread of my father’s death and my mother’s capture, I hear she begged the authorities to have the prince and princess found. A knock on the door and she hadn’t realized it was Dolhr colors that greeted her. A handful of words in and their swords bid her goodbye.”

               Eventually Marth straightens, fixes his steady gaze on her anew, and holds out to her his hand. “Let's move on, Caeda. I’ll show you the other rooms next.”

[odett3]

@detectivechandler said ; ❛  pull  yourself  together .  ❜

odette remains where she is, stooped by the side of the water. she looks for all the world like she might never move again. face is obscured by a curtain of damp, pale hair and this posture is chosen precisely because of that fact. as she peers down at her reflection in the unnervingly still lakewater it is with the knowledge her sad, sallow face is unseen by the man speaking. at least her shoulders do not shake anymore, her hands remain still by her sides rather than fluttering with nerves or fear.

"i have no more tears over it," is what she says after a long moment wherein she stares at her own dark eyes and her own unblushing cheeks, "and i do not believe embracing the reality of a situation is something that - - - creates the need for someone to pull themselves together."

[oflostinfound]

A familiar figure looks into the lake. Having been summoned at its bottom. By eath’s actions.

Myth by the deamons actions. But very used to human thrill seeking.

Having hoped that it’d skip Eath. The behavior did not. She merely chuckles at the display.

Her void-like eyes pinched by her laughter. Before staring down at eath.

(Look you’ve inspired me.:))

Cliff Diving

She twists around as she's submerged in the lake. Hair flowing around her, seemingly unaffected by the pull of gravity, flowing with her movements and the current of the water. She's laughing, the sound echoed through the dark before she's resurface.

Her head shakes quickly to free it of the weight of the water, ears flicking in turn as hands would rub her eyes clear. Greeted, then, with the familiar sight of the glass being staring down at her. Meeting dark void-like eyes with her bright white ones as at first she freezes- then smiles.

|| 🔷 ||: ❝ Hello again. ❞

The tone is mirthful, ears trying to raise in delight- though due to her recent swim they remain mostly lowered. The daemon freeing herself from the water's grasp as she walks ashore.

She would have to find a change of clothes when she got home, get dry before she'd grab the necklace she'd left on her nightstand when she smelled the oncoming storm. Hax would most likely have a fit at them being dipped in lakewater... but she had fun.

She truly had fun.

|| 🔷 ||: ❝ I didn't think I'd find you here. ❞

Or that there would be a witness to her recklessness, but she doubted this one was going to tell. Or she hoped.

[jovialtorchlight]

Exert from my short story, The Witch

Days, as they often do, turned into weeks. We kept circling each other. Sometimes I noticed her, sometimes she noticed me; at least three or four times a week. In gas stations, waiting rooms, checkout lines. It became a bit of a joke shared by two near strangers; we were always together, by complete accident.

It was a hot July day, and I was at the town beach, lying on a towel. I had been reading a book, but I closed it, and laid it on top of my eyes so the beating of the sun wouldn’t blind me. 

I could feel my skin tightening into a sunburn, so I sat up. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw her. 

“Again?” I said, smiling.

“Yep. looks like it,” she said, grinning. 

“I’m starting to think you’re following me,” I said, making a half-baked joke. 

Her grin faded. She was wearing dark sunglasses and a sunhat, so I couldn’t really make out her face, but I got the immediate sense that she was very, very serious. 

“I’m not,” she half whispered. “Are you following me?”

“Uh...no,” I said, unsure of what to say. I couldn’t tell if I had spooked her, if I had crossed the line from an extremely coincidental almost-stranger to a full blown, call the police stalker. 

Awkward terror crept into me, and I wanted to run. I was tempted to get up and leave, and maybe move out of this spot somewhere far away, where I couldn’t be taken for an accidental creeper. 

“I didn’t think so,” she said, easing a little bit. “What’s your name?”

“Jonny,” I said. ‘What’s yours?”

She didn’t answer. Her voice fell to a whisper. 

“That boy is going to drown,” she said, pointing out, towards a floating dock. “Things are about to fall into place.”

Six or seven children were standing in the corner of the floating dock, trying to sink it. They did; and the other half of the dock rose into the air. 

A boy who looked to be about ten was standing on a particularly pitched part of the float. As it rose sharply, he slipped, smashed his face off of the wood, and, before his friends could catch him, slipped off into the water. 

Before I knew what I was doing, I was in the water, running, as fast as I could; diving into the water, stroke after stroke, kids screaming, parents from the beach yelling, jumping in behind me; but I was first, I was swimming quickly  and I was at the dock, and I dived under, opened my eyes, stinging, I couldn’t see anything, just a chain attached to the slimey underneath of the dock to the bottom of the lake; breath running out, I followed the chain to the rocky bottom; he wasn’t there either; I looked back up, and saw him, face down, stuck under the dock; I pushed from the bottom upwards, running out of breath—

I grabbed the boy’s limp body, and dragged him out from under the dock  with a final push before I inhaled a lung full of lakewater.  I felt the fire hit my lungs, I pushed his body up above the surface of the water and some hands grabbed him and while I wheezed and coughed—

I heard screaming from the shore; ‘oh god, he’s not breathing’ no, I thought, I just saved him, just grabbed him, I should have saved him, and I thrashed as I lost strength and before I lost consciousness I felt hands grab me and pull me— 

Everything happened fast. Everything should have been fine. EMTs were having lunch at the hotdog stand up the road; they heard the screaming and came on the d

scene while I was underwater. The boy was under the dock for just under a minute. The guy who jumped in right behind me was a lifeguard. The guy swimming behind him was a former Navy S.E.A.L. 

On that hot July day, everything lined up. We should have been able to save that boy—I’d learn later, from his mother, that his name was Jacoby—and he should have been the one, blue lipped, shivering, on the back of the ambulance, having his vitals monitored, coughing up water. 

It wasn’t fair. The calculation was wrong. It should have never played out like this. A 24 year-old man was alive and a ten-year-old boy was dead. I would have done anything to switch places with him. 

While I was unconscious, I had a dream.  The EMT said I was out for three minutes, still breathing. The dream could have been my mind responding to the influx of trauma and the lack of oxygen and the exhaustion. 

The boy was up to his ankles in the water, looking out towards the empty shore of the beach, spare the witch on her purple lawn chair. I was out on the floating dock. 

The boy was sobbing. The witch rose from her chair, and slowly walked to the boy, embraced him, and reached out to put a hand on his head. 

“Where’s my mom?” the boy asked, sniffling. 

“She’s not here now, but you can visit her later. Why don’t we go take a walk? There are some people up by the hot-dog stand who would love to see you, Jacoby.”

“Oh...okay,” the boy said. He took a step out onto the beach, before he threw himself around, and stared at me. 

I felt my chest tighten as his eyes fixed on me and I felt the way his smashed face felt when it hit the dock and scraped against the wood and how his head pounded and he slipped and the way he tried to swim up before he lost consciousness and the way the water filled his lungs—

“Who is that?” the boy said, eyes widening with fear. I wanted to say who I was, that I was a friend, that I tried to help— but I couldn’t, and I realized, with horror, that I was witnessing something that I shouldn’t—

“Jacoby,” the witch said, sternly, motherly, “You need to turn toward me. Please. You don’t have to be afraid.  He is a friend.”

Jacoby, still turned to me, began to writhe, skin crawling, energy bursting out of him; light coming from his skin, from his head; blinded by the heat radiating from his formlessness, I felt myself burn into him, felt my consciousness blend into his—for a moment—I had to stand—had to stop this—I saw the writhing and the fear, the red open sore of the sky, the dark hue of the beach suddenly vast and endless, a void, drawing me and the boy in like a magnet, like we were being pulled; I had to stand up, do something, anything. I stood up.

The pulling stopped. Jacoby was sobbing again.

“WHO ARE YOU?” he screamed. 

“I’m a friend, bud.” I said, “I saw you under the dock and I tried to help you out—”

“Oh. That was you?” Jacoby asked me, the sobbing easing. 

“Yeah, it was,” said the witch. “Now I need you to get out of the water, Jacoby.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he said, his skin beginning again to jump up and down like a flame.

“You can,” she said. “You can, Jacoby.”

Jacoby turned to me. 

“I’ll get out if he jumps in.”

For the first time, the witch turned to me directly. 

“Friend,” she said carefully, like she was choosing each word with care. “You don’t have to jump.”

“Yes, he does!” said Jacoby, with the petulance of a ten year old. “I won’t do it if he doesn’t!”

I looked down at the water. It was black, oily, bubbling. 

I glanced back at Jacoby. I didn’t know what was going to happen to him if I didn’t jump. But the fear in my chest told me he would be lost, swallowed up by whatever this oily water was. 

I looked at Jacoby.

“Alright,” I said, “On the count of three.”

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

I jumped into the water. 

[togescents]

small poesie review roundup!

Gingerbread Kittens: gingerbread cookies sandwiched with marshmallow fondant and dipped in citrus glaze, fluffy kitten fur, a glint of amber eyes 

god i love this one. primarily it’s gingerbread, though more of a cake-y gingerbread than the hard cookies i associate with gingerbread. when it was fresh i got more the citrus and marshmallow, but now they’ve blended back into the gingerbread beautifully, creating something more complex than straight gingerbread. i also get more of the amber (and possibly whatever musk poesie uses for cat fur?) which adds depth, elevating this perfume from generic gingerbread to something more mature and enticing.

i believe this is a winter/holiday seasonal, so i HIGHLY recommend picking up a 2ml at least if it comes back this year! i assume it will, since it’s popular.

Mysterious Fossils: smoked black tea with creamy vanilla oatmilk, cashmere sweater, tortoiseshell glasses with clear, shiny lenses, and a warm cedar chest that contains fossils encased in amber, sandstone, and limestone

this is from their dark academia collection, and this one in particular is being added to their permanent collection in late september.

i wasn’t sure about this one due to the amber and stones and also the cedar (me and cedar are not friends) but i LOVE poesie’s tea note, so i decided to try it. and it... yeah. i should have listened to my gut. i bought it last year so it had nearly a year to rest and age and i STILL do not get any tea. maybe a hint of tea at most. there is something creamy that i assume is the oatmilk, but the amber and stones make it. odd. it literally smells like dusty rocks you’d find in a museum, which is very impressive! but i don’t enjoy smelling like it.

i have another perfume from this collection, Ritual (dark lakewater, dragon’s blood incense, wet stone covered in ivy, dried pine needles and leaves, remnants of melted beeswax candles, clove cigarettes, crisp air) which is a lovely mysterious and deep combination of poesie’s fantastic lakewater note and sweet dragon’s blood, with everything else serving to add hints of depth. if this one comes back i highly recommend it!

Cardigan: creamy Mysore sandalwood spiced with cardamom pods & pimento berries, French vanilla, white chocolate, comforting sweater musk 

a member of their permanent collection this time! i asked for my free sample to be cardigan during an order last year when i started to realize i like sandalwood (my only experience with sandalwood at that point was the cheap scented soaps and wax melts dad would sometimes get from amazon) and i KNOW i love cardamon. it smelled ok in the vial when i got it, but i bust it out again last night and oh man it’s incredible

first of all, the cardamon is LOVELY. it’s not too overwhelming but is clearly there, bringing a wonderful warm spiciness. the sandalwood is indeed creamy, probably helped by the vanilla and white chocolate. i don’t get much white chocolate, which i’m happy about because i don’t really like the smell of it. this perfume truly is warm and cozy, and i think i’ll be picking up at least a 2ml, if not a full size, to set aside and age while i continue to enjoy my sample.