Hello Lovelys

and my personal favorite:

and bc it’s worth reiterating:

It’s a mistake—a wrong number, per se. No witch it’s ever known has lived in such an, ah, dated, home. Furthermore, no practitioner that ever summoned it has been absent, as if they’d up and ding-dong ditched it. No, it didn’t work that way. Not at all. Not if they want to survive the encounter.

It hears the clinking of movement in the room adjacent—the kitchen, going by the pungent, bitter scent of cooled coffee and soggy, sweet sponge cakes, but more jarring is the smell of blood. It moves—feels something slip beneath its clawed foot as it does, and sees a crocheted blanket of whites and greys and deep black yarn, wound intricately, perfectly, into a summoning circle. Its summoning circle. There is a small splash of bright scarlet and sharp, jagged bits of a broken curio scattered on top, as if someone had dropped it, attempted to pick it up the pieces and pricked their finger. It would explain the blood. And it would explain the demon being brought into this strange place.

As it connects these pieces in its mind, the inhabitant of the house rounds the corner and exits the kitchen, holding a damp, white dish towel close to her hand and fumbling with the beaded bifocals hanging from her neck by a crocheted lanyard before stopping dead in her tracks.

Now, to be fair, the demon wouldn’t ordinarily second guess being face-to-face with a hunchbacked crone with a beaked nose, beady eyes and a peculiar lack of teeth, or a spidery shawl and ankle-length black dress, but there is definitely something amiss here. Especially when the old biddy lets her spectacles fall slack on her bosom and erupts into a wide, toothy (toothless) grin, eyes squinting and crinkling from the sheer effort of it.

“Todd! Todd, dear, I didn’t know you were visiting this year! You didn’t call, you didn’t write—but, oh, I’m so happy you’re here, dear! Would it have been too much to ask you to ring the doorbell? I almost had a heart attack. And don’t worry about the blood, here—I had an accident. My favorite figure toppled off of the table and cleanup didn’t go as expected. But I seem to recall you are quite into the bloodshed and ‘edgy’ stuff these days, so I don’t suppose you mind.” She releases a hearty, kind laugh, but it isn’t mocking, it’s sweet. Grandmotherly. The demon is by no means sentimental or maudlin, but the kindness, the familiarity, the genuine fondness, does pull a few dusty old nostalgic heartstrings. “Imagine if it leaves a scar! It’d be a bit ‘badass,’ as you teenagers say, wouldn’t it?”

She is as blind as a bat without her glasses, it would appear, because the demon is by no means a ‘Todd’ or a human at all, though humanoid, shrouded in sleek, black skin and hard spikes and sharp claws. But the demon humors her, if only because it had been caught off guard.

The old woman smiles still, before turning on her heel and shuffling into the hallway with a stiff gait revealing a poor hip. “Be a dear and make some more coffee, would you please? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Yes, this is most definitely a mistake. One for the record books, for certain. For late-night trips to bars and conversations with colleagues, while others discuss how many souls they’d swindled in exchange for peanuts, or how many first-borns they’d been pledged for things idiot humans could have gained without divine intervention. Ugh. Sometimes it all just became so pedantic that little detours like this were a blessing—happy accidents, as the humans would say.

That’s why the demon does as asked, and plods slowly into the kitchen, careful to duck low and avoid the top of the doorframe. That’s why it gingerly takes the small glass pot and empties it of old, stale coffee and carefully, so carefully, takes a measuring scoop between its claws and fills the machine with fresh grounds. It’s as the hot water is percolating that the old woman returns, her index finger wrapped tight in a series of beige bandages.

“I’m surprised you’re so tall, Todd! I haven’t seen you since you were at my hip! But your mother mails photos all the time—you do love wearing all black, don’t you?” She takes a seat at the small round table in the corner and taps the glass lid of the cake plate with quaking, unsteady, aged hands. “I was starting to think you’d never visit. Your father and I have had our disagreements, but…I am glad you’re here, dear. Would you like some cake?” Before the demon has a chance to decline, she lifts the lid and cuts a generous slice from the near-complete circle that has scarcely been touched. It smells of citrus and cream and is, as assumed earlier, soggy, oversaturated with icing.

It was made for a special occasion, for guests, but it doesn’t seem this old woman receives much company in this musty, stagnant house that smells like an antique garage that hadn’t had its dust stirred in years.

Especially not from her absentee grandson, Todd.

The demon waits until the coffee pot is full, and takes two small mugs from the counter, filling them until steam is frothing over the rims. Then, and only then, does it accept the cake and sit, with some difficulty, in a small chair at the small table. It warbles out a polite ‘thank you,’ but it doesn’t suppose the woman understands. Manners are manners regardless.

“Oh, dear, I can hardly understand. Your voice has gotten so deep, just like your grandfather’s was. That, and I do recall you have an affinity for that gravelly, screaming music. Did your voice get strained? It’s alright, dear, I’ll do the talking. You just rest up. The coffee will help soothe.”

The demon merely nods—some communication can be understood without fail—and drinks the coffee and eats the cake with a too-small fork. It’s ordinary, mushy, but delicious because of the intent behind it and the love that must have gone into its creation.

“I hope you enjoyed all of the presents I sent you. You never write back—but I am aware most people use that fancy E-mail these days. I just can’t wrap my head around it. I do wish your mom and dad would visit sometime. I know of a wonderful little café down the street we can go to. I haven’t been; I wanted to visit it with Charles, before he…well.” She falls silent in her rambling, staring into her coffee with a small, melancholy smile. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years. You never had the chance to meet him. But never mind that.” Suddenly, and with surprising speed that has the demon concerned for her well being, she moves to her feet, bracing her hands on the edge of the table. “I may as well give you your birthday present, since you’re here. What timing! I only finished it this morning. I’ll be right back.”

When she returns, the white, grey and black crocheted work with the summoning circle is bundled in her arms.  

“I found these designs in an occult book I borrowed from the library. I thought you’d like them on a nice, warm blanket to fight off the winter chill—I hope you do like it.” With gentle hands, she spreads the blanket over the demon’s broad, spiky back like a shawl, smoothing it over craggy shoulders and patting its arms affectionately. “Happy birthday, Todd, dear.”

demon: you’re not blind here – but you’re not surprised. when…?

anette: oh, toddy, don’t be silly, my biological grandson’s not twelve feet tall and doesn’t scorch the furniture when he sneezes. i’ve known for ages.

demon: then why?

anette: you wouldn’t have stayed if you weren’t lonely too.

demon: you… you don’t have to keep calling me your grandson.

anette: nonsense! adopted children are just as real. now quit sniffling, you silly boy, and let’s go bake a cake. honey, heel!

Goal:

Sneak into Katsuki Bakugo’s room while he is asleep and remain inside as long as you dare without waking him up. Your turn ends when you exit the room or when Bakugo catches you.

Rules:

Don’t wake up Bakugo.

Seriously. Don’t wake up Bakugo.

First player of the round is known as the Risk Taker.

The loser of the previous round is known as the Sacrifice and must take their turn during Bakugo’s afternoon nap.

Each player is required to perform an Initializing and/or a Collection.

Initializing is the act of writing your initials on Bakugo (pen provided).

Collection is the act of taking physical evidence of tactile contact.

Plucking hair is not allowed. Take only hairs that have been shed on the pillow.

Nitroglycerin sweat will be ignited on player to validate.

The timer doesn’t start until the door closes behind you.

The timer stops the moment you open the door.

Don’t tell Tenya Iida.

Points:

10 seconds = 1 point

Risk Taker = 5 points

Initializing (foot) = 3 points

Initializing (arm) = 5 points

Initializing (hand) = 8 points

Initializing (face) = 10 points

Collection (hair) = 8 points

Collection (nitroglycerin sweat) = 20 points

Getting caught = -20 points

Waking Bakugo BUT he falls back to sleep = -10 points

No Initializing or Collection = -20% points

Winner:

Whoever has the most points by the end of the round wins. The prize is having next week’s chores divided amongst the rest of the players.

Loser:

Whoever first gets caught by Bakugo, otherwise whoever has the least points. The penalty is being the Sacrifice in the next game and a guaranteed explosion to the face.

Top Scores:

Eijirou Kirishima - 191 points

Fumikage Tokoyami - 184 points

Izuku Midoriya - 177 points

Honorable Mentions:

Kyoka Jirou - Lulled a groggy Bakugo back to sleep with a song. Successfully escaped.

Denki Kaminari & Mina Ashido - Collaborated on a comic strip that covered Bakugo’s arm up to his neck. Ashido successfully escaped. Kaminari did not.

Hitoshi Shinsou - Brainwashed Bakugo into Initializing himself and returning to sleep. Successfully escaped.

Disclaimer:

This game is played at your own risk.

This game is played with Bakugo’s full knowledge and consent.

Where it’s not your soulmate’s first words to you tattooed on your skin, but the last words they’ll ever tell you

People settling down with those they think are The One, but never being sure

Organic relationships where both people are tentative until the day where they hear those words from the other and it’s too late

People having a happy life with their significant other who they believe is their soulmate until someone greets them with the words inked on their wrist. They make the conscious choice to walk away and ignore their destined partner

People who have generic phrases like “see you soon” or “i love you” living their lives in fear and cherishing every moment they have with their significant other

People not realizing their partner just said Those Words until it’s too late and they’re running out the door. Sometimes it’s just a false alarm, but sometimes they’re already gone

People whose significant other leaves them but not with Those Words so they spend the rest of their life hoping they’ll come back

Conversely, people whose significant other passes away but without saying Those Words so they know have another person they can look forward to in their life

Some people choose to hide their tattoo from their significant other so they don’t have to be scared

Tattoo artists always helping people who want to cover up their tattoos after they’ve heard The Words and lost their soulmate

Ok so basically I have this headcannon that Bakugou has this thing called hyperhidrosis.

It’s this condition that causes an excess amount of sweating and usually in the hands. Everyone knows that bakugou uses his quirk from the nitroglycerin like sweat he works up in his hands and this would be a perfect explanation for how good he is with his quirk! Perhaps “explosion” isn’t as strong as we think it is because it’s hard to work up enough sweat to use, but Bakugo doesn’t struggle at all, as his condition makes him the perfect person for his quirk. This is also how he’s able to randomly use is quirk whenever he pleases, example: flaming up a bit while yelling at deku. He already has sweaty hands all the time and can immediately make explosions at will. Thanks to Bakugo’s condition he is able to use “explosion” like a pro and it has helped him become one of the top students :)

-

Last week, I got attacked by the most painful and persistent hiccups of my life at work. My co-worker heard me hiccuping and said, absently, “Got the hiccups?” and I said miserably, “Yeah.” And she said, “Prove it.”

And I glared at her, because why the fuck should I prove anything to her? And I waited for the next hiccup, which would prove that she was a dick and that I was, indeed, suffering from hiccups. And… that hiccup never came. And she smirked and said, “My daughter calls me whenever she has hiccups and when I ask her to prove it, she never can.”

And that was weird. But later that night, I got hiccups AGAIN, so I said to my boyfriend, “I HAVE HICCUPS.” and he said “Yeah, you do.” And I said, “No, ask me to prove it.” And he gave me a look like I was a crazy person, and I hiccuped again and insisted he ask me to prove it and he did and BAM. I couldn’t do it!

And a few days LATER, I got the hiccups WHILE DRIVING ALONE, and I said, out loud, “DUDE, I have the hiccups.” And then, in another voice, “PROVE IT.” And bam. Couldn’t do it.

The moral of the story? Apparently hiccups are little shits who refuse to perform on command. 

There you go. Hiccup cure. I can’t promise it’ll work for everyone, but so far, it’s worked for me like six times.

Midoriya: [Nervous] What are you doing?

seriously. Baz didnt ACTUALLY show up in the book till page 150 (according to my copy) but i was already in love with him by the time he showed up. why? because simon talks about him SO much it is impossible not to catch his feelings

on the bus to watford (he doesnt even know that baz is missing yet)

(Baz plays for our school. of course. the tosser. He’s the same on the field as he is everywhere else. Strong. Graceful. Fucking ruthless)

he hopes that baz doesnt show up on the picnic and ruin everything for him and what does he do when he gets to the actual picnic? 

(I dont see baz)

(I keep bracing for baz to show up and ruin everything. i keep looking over my shoulder)

baz doesnt show up in pol sci class so what does he do? he fucking corners one of baz’s buddies after the lesson

even agatha notices his pining

(fine simon what did he tell you?)

(nothing to make me think he’d drop out of school and miss a whole year of making me miserable)

and agatha (bless her) just mumbles (”he doesnt even have to be here to do that”)

and look at this one 

(i have the room to myself, and i cant even enjoy it, because baz’s empty bed just seems sinister now)

he looks for baz during breakfast. everyday. 

he followed Niall and Dev around for “a few days” 

and let’s not forget the time he looked around the football pitch and when he didnt see baz he basically stomped away like a big baby

(Three weeks into the term, i still find myself walking by the pitch, expecting to see him at football practice, and when i don’t, i take a hard turn into the hills behind the school)

he went to ebb just to sulk about his roommate not coming back to school

remember when penny implied that agatha knew baz best? simon just had to disagree so vehemently because he’s the roommate and so HE knows best

who are you even jealous of simon?

his pining reached a whole new level when he decided to consult the mage about it (official business my ass, simon)

he sulked when miss possibelf refused to divulge more information about the pitches and baz’s disappearance 

(now, perhaps you should go to lunch)

he doesnt. instead, he skips lunch and runs to the woods to start hacking at a tree 

simon snow = big baby = tantrum thrower = needs to chill 

when he realized baz wasnt going to turn up at breakfast or football practice, he decides to search the wavering wood every night instead 

(im covering the wood, like im sweeping it)

(I’ll mow the whole fucking forest down if i go on like this)

even the dryad in victorian clothes has had enough of his bullshit

(Fine. if we see your handsome bloodeater, we’ll tell him you’re looking for him)

YOUR handsome bloodeater 

the dryad herself is confused about what the guy really wants 

(What do you seek, Chosen One?) and she asks this twice because she feels that even simon himself doesnt know what exactly he’s hoping to accomplish by skulking around the woods every night

(i walk the woods. i walk the fields. i cover the school grounds between classes, poking through empty buildings, opening long closed doors)

even Baz knows that there’s something up with simon early on when he kept stalking the poor dude in the catacombs

(you’ve been following me, looking for me. it’s not my fault you still haven’t found what you’re looking for)

seriously, even penny’s at the end of her rope

(i really, really hate to talk to simon about baz. it’s like talking to the mad hatter about tea)

the mad hatter really, REALLY likes his tea btw 

at the beginning of the book simon went on about how he likes it when baz’s isnt in the room because then penny could hang around

baz is gone for weeks and what does he do? he literally keeps kicking penny out of the room so he can go out and look for baz 

(i keep having to kick penny out of the room, so she doesnt catch on to how im spending my nights)

and on chapter 27 he goes (”I’m just lying in my bed, thinking about baz”) and this actually fucking happens after his GIRLFRIEND broke up with him

and look at this precious little gem, this piece of dialogue is my baby, my blessing, the light of my life-

(She [Natasha Pitch] looks over his empty bed, and her sadness is so potent that in that moment, I’d do anything to get him back for her. I’d do anything to bring him back)

I’d do anything to bring him back

im not crying, you’re crying

and when baz finally makes his dramatic entrance

(Tall. Black hair swept back from his forehead. Lips curled up in a sneer….i know that face as well as my own)

oh, simon, honey 

he stands up so quickly he knocks his chair over 

and his train of thought just goes

(Baz steps towards us. Baz)

I was clearing the game again and doing chapter 14 and y’all know I love promptis so I noticed that there are two distinct times that Noct is like “well, guess I’ll die” and he hesitates because Prompto says something to him.

The first time plays out something like

[Noct is going to open the throne room] Prompto: Not much farther now… [Noct hesitates and stops] Ignis: Well then, shall we, Noct? Noct: Yeah but…ah….hold on a sec.  Prompto. Can I see your photos? Prompto: Um……Yeah! Noct: I just need one….to take with me… Prompto: Oh!……..yeah, I get it.  Um….you can have whichever you like…

I dunno about y’all but that was so fucking tender to me and I forgot that it played out like that.

The second is after you defeat Ardyn and Noct is going to ascend the steps back into the Citadel.  He’s already on his way when…

Prompto: No turning back now… [Noct hesitates again, and turns around] Noct: Prompto.  Ignis.  Gladio…..I leave it to you.

I’m also gonna point out he addressed Prompto first.