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justanormaldemon · 8 months

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Waffles and Cleaning Up

After a failed attempt at making waffles, Wylan takes Jesper out for brunch for his birthday instead. Day 5 of Wesper Week (@wesperweek2023).

Prompt: Cooking Disaster

Jesper woke up to banging and clanking sounds coming from the kitchen. He shot up in bed, grabbing his guns and racing down the stairs. He heard Wylan swear. He came skidding around the doorway, causing his boyfriend to swear again, but by the way he had placed his hand over his chest, Jesper had just startled him.

He walked inside, lowering his gun.

"Wylan, are you okay?"

"Um," he said, suddenly looking dumbfounded and glancing from Jesper to the counter. Jesper looked down with him, finally taking in the scene before his eyes.

The kitchen was trashed. There was bits of flour in just about every counter and a little on the floor by the island in the centre. There were bits of raw egg yolk that had been hastily wiped up and left residue on the stone. There were bowls and utensils covered in varying types of ingredients. There was a faint smell of burning.

Then he took in Wylan, who was truly a sight to behold. He was wearing a white shirt one size too big because it was Jesper's, and it was covered in baking ingredients and oddly enough a little bit of ink on the sleeve. Wylan's face was lightly dusted with a white powder that wasn't thick enough to be flour. The ends of his fiery hair was dusted on white as well. A slick sheen of butter coated the back of his hands.

Jesper covered his mouth with his hand, and Wylan pouted at the crinkle of his eyes and slight jerk of his shoulders as he held in a laugh. "Jesper!" He put down the spoon he held. "It's not funny."

"Wy," he cooed, coming over and placing a hand on his cheek, the ingredients coming off very clearly on his skin. "What happened?"

"I sent the staff home," he mumbled. "It's your birthday this weekend so I wanted it to just be us." He gestured to the bowl of what certainly wasn't something edible in front of the. "I was trying to make waffles." He looked up, biting his lip briefly. "I'm sorry. It was supposed to be a surprise."

"Oh," he said, and he smiled wider. His hands were on Wylan's arms holding him gently. He leaned forwards and placed a kiss on his lips, which tasted faintly like sugar. "Don't apologise. This is lovely." He looked over his shoulder and spotted a plate containing a chared waffle. Wylan clearly knew he saw it, because he flushed and looked down. He tilted his head up with two of his fingers and kissed him gingerly again until he pulled out a smile. "Albeit a lovely mess. But I love it." He smiled softly, and Wylan seemed to relax into him. "Thank you."

He nodded, glancing at his mess again. "Can I take you out for waffles instead?" He suggested, looking back up.

Jesper laughed and pulled him to him. "I would love that. I think we should clean this first, though," he said.

Wylan nodded, laughing again and turning around. He made for a closet off to the side, starting to pull out rags. "I like that idea," he looked over his shoulder. "Go get dressed first, I can clean."

He raised an eyebrow at the counters. "Are you sure?"

"Jesper!"

He was ushered out of the kitchen, laughing. He bound up the stairs, and he could hear Wylan humming until he reached their room.

They went to some specialised waffle restaurant Nina had been on about when she came to visit. It was a small shop off the corner of Barter street, right between the Geldestraat and what could be considered a middle ground travelling into the Barrel. Jesper held the door open for Wylan, and he was glad that even after a year together something so small would still make him blush.

When they sat down and the waiter brought them their respective waffles Jesper wouldn’t stop noting how unburnt they are just to stir a refraction out of his boyfriend. Wylan put a rather big chunk of waffles and strawberries in his mouth to keep from saying anything the next time he did it, and Jesper laughed. He swallowed and rolled his eyes when Jesper keeled over. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

He righted himself and smirked. “I’m very funny.” He leaned on his palm where his arm rested on the table. “You think I’m funny.”

Wylan smiled. “I wouldn’t admit it.”

He felt a familiar fondness spread through him, and he leaned over and reached for his hand. Wylan, startled, let him take it and another flush started to lighten his cheeks. “Thank you,” he said, lifting his hand and pressing a soft kiss to it, “For surprising me.”

“Jesper,” he said, glancing away and smiling sheepishly, “they didn’t even come out right.”

“Don’t care,” he mumbled, kissing his hand again. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, Wy.” He smiled, and Jesper couldn’t help himself. “Even though you can’t cook.”

He groaned and lulled his head back, and Jesper laughed again. “Jesper!”

“It’s my birthday! Let me have a little fun.”

“I’ll give you fun when we get home.”

“Oh?”

“We can clean the kitchen again.”

He pointed a finger. “Don’t you even think about it.”

And if Wylan insisted he was going to try making waffles again, Jesper was perfectly fine with that. Next time they could do it together.

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@iammadeofmemoriesforlife @justanormaldemon @violets-and-books

#awwwwww #living up to your name here fr

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justanormaldemon · 8 months

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Tysm for the tag! <3

Open tag, do it!

picrew chain!

Tagging: @aro-manita-muscaria @gnomeantics @angel-of-fallen-dreams @lemon-lime-slush and anyone else who wants to make a little guy I mean come on. Look at it

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justanormaldemon · 9 months

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I did!!

Ugh, work, that sucks :( hope you get some free time soon!

Hello 🤗

How are you????

Hey Lore!! I’m good, just got back from my mysterious disappearance era, hbu?

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justanormaldemon · 9 months

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22 for the ask game bestie 👀

I do traditional and digital art, a bit of painting, I used to do pottery, I write, and I really like collaging!

#asks #lore! 🧡

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justanormaldemon · 9 months

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Sure, let’s do this! 💖

Writer (& Artist) Ask Game

Reblog this and let your pals ask about your OCs, stories, or about you! Remember to check your inbox, and feel free to tag someone you want to see play :)

* Who was your first ever OC? Do you still “use” them? How have they evolved over time?

Who is your newest OC? Why did you make them?

Biggest self-insert OC?

What kind of music do your OCs listen to?

What are some of your OCs biggest fears?

Do you have any OCs without stories? Will you ever create one for them?

What are your favourite relationships between your OCs? (romantic or platonic!)

Do you have any OC family trees?

Favourite OC?

OC you most struggled to make?

* Sum up one or more of your wips!

Which story took the most research?

Which story has the most lore?

Current word count of all your main wips?

How many projects do you have going on right now? Are there any that you doubt you’ll ever finish?

What was you first major project? How far along is it?

What are some tropes and character dynamics found in your wips?

Describe the setting of one or more of your wips

What are some things that inspired your stories? Real events? Maybe a dream?

What story are you the proudest of? Why?

* When did you start considering yourself a writer/artist?

What are all the “kinds” of writing/art you do? (short stories, poetry, screenplays, digital, painting, clay, etc.)

Are you in any writer/artist groups? (Ex: discord server!)

Do you have/want a career in your medium? If not, what do you do/want to do instead?

What’s your favourite genre to write? Is it also your favourite genre to read?

What are your favourite books?

What are your favourite movies?

Favourite songs at the moment?

What was your first fandom you were in? Did you make any art/fanfic for it?

How are you doing? <3

Ask away!

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justanormaldemon · 9 months

Note

Hello 🤗

How are you????

Hey Lore!! I’m good, just got back from my mysterious disappearance era, hbu?

#asks #lore! 🧡

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justanormaldemon · 9 months

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Ty for the tag bestie!!

Open tag, go wild (:

hey so what if i started a picrew chain i've always wanted to do that

tags (no pressure!!): @cornmazehater @r-r-raf @they-thespian666 @emptymilk-bottle @redminders

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justanormaldemon · 9 months

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For personal reasons I will be disappearing under mysterious circumstances btw 💖 see y’all when I get back

#/lh

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justanormaldemon · 9 months

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Not me having to look up who Dolores is—

I vibe w her tho, she’s pretty cool 😎

Cym as encanto characters✨

Ooo anon I like 👀

@life-through-the-eyes-of - Pepa

@luciehercndale - Isabela

@justanormaldemon - Dolores

@melanielocke - Luisa

@thomastaircompassrose - Antonio

@heavenwontbethe-same - Bruno

@myangelbach - Julieta

@bookishperfection - Augustín

@alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer - Abulea (end Abulea with her lovely character arc 🤍) but I also get Camilo vibes so 👀

@wesperbrekkered - Maribel

@rinadragomir - Félix

@laylax13s - Camilo

@grace-lightwoodd - Also Antonio

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justanormaldemon · 10 months

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Hiii, I love your posts✨

Could you please write prompt "I'm here, It's going to be okay." for Jordelia? ❣️

Thank you for this anon I am an absolute sucker for Jordelia so this was a lot of fun! Sorry this took a while <3

(Traumatised)Nerd

Jordelia One-Shot

Prompt: "I'm here, it's going to be okay."

CW: Vauge mentions of past suicide, implications of past suicide, implications of abusive/toxic relationship, panic attack, drinking, alcohol. (Nothing is super graphic in regards to the past relationship and suicide so if that's uncomfortable for you know that is really only there if you squint).

Category: Angst, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending.

Words: 2558

A/N: This turned out so much angstier than I meant MY BAD. (I'm answering old requests I never got to and a lot of them are angst so buckle up).

James came into their apartment soaking wet and trembling. Cordelia wasn't home, Matthew wasn't answering his phone. He begged whatever watched over his friend that he wasn't drunk and he was just busy. He eyed the fridge. Speaking of drunk…

He knew he shouldn't. But not even their cat, Samira, was around to comfort him and he felt pathetic leaning on other people anyways. It was selfish, wasn't it? To go crying to his friends every time his heart and his feet felt heavy. His head swam and his legs stumbled towards the fridge. Hands shaking as though the room was of ice, he opened the door and grabbed a pack of god knows what that one of the Thieves had left at their place last weekend. He set it on the counter, shrugging his suit jacket off and tossing it to the other side of the room. Samira mewed from under the couch and James only replied with a sigh.

His head made a thump when it hit the wall. He slid down it, ending on his ass on the cold kitchen tiles and sweat stains under his arm and on his back. Not that he could tell. The rain had soaked him through his jacket and he was wet as a river bank. He shook his head and scoffed at himself before drinking out of the bottle. He would only have one, if only to make him a little sleepy so he could sleep whatever was happening to him off. He was so tired already but he really wanted to not feel right now. Maybe this is how Matthew felt most of the time, under that shiny exterior.

He wasn't an addict, he was just sad. He wouldn't touch anything after this, if anything to not upset Cordelia. God forbid Alastair find out and chase him down. He chuckled at the thought. It wasn't funny, it would make him quite upset, actually. But he was already upset, so what the hell? He drank again. And again. He tipped the bottle up, then swallowed. Then tipped it up, then swallowed. He got a nice burn under his skin and he certainly preferred it to the pressure. He had just done his history paper on the Salem Witch trials in America, and they had pressed a man. They hadn't burned anyone at the stake, but some people certainly had. Was it like that? He'd rather be burned than pressed. Christopher would tell him that medically speaking it would honestly be better to be pressed. Both were bad ways to go, but James would personally prefer burning. Maybe it would be quicker? He scoffed. He didn't want to think about his projects right now, or dying, or quitting, or drinking, or his friends, or his family. So he opened a second bottle.

Maybe it would be best if Cordelia stayed at work late. He pondered it on his third. He didn't want her to find him like this. It would upset her and then James would have to open a fourth bottle because Cordelia certainly wouldn't let him leave. It was so easy to run away from problems. Maybe he should move to Wales. He won't tell anyone and that way he can't disappoint them and no one can disappoint him. No one can hurt him and he'll be fine.

Cordelia texted him. He grumbled and squinted at the phone. It either said she was on her way or that today was the day and he honestly could not tell. His screen was too bright. He put it down, sighing and putting his head in his hands. He felt something brush against him, and he reached out to pet Samira, and she mewed at him. She wormed her way next to him and put her head down. He glanced out of his palms and over to her. Big yellow orbs stared back at smaller ones. She mewed again, and he laughed gently, and the shaking in his shoulders quickly turned from laughter to sobbing. He pulled his knees to his chest. This was what the shell of a man looks like, he thought. Drunk, crying, on the floor, surrounded by beer bottles and a cat. He couldn't stop, after a while. His breathing was so fast and eventually Samira got scared and ran off, a white, fluffy tail disappearing into their bedroom.

The door opened and James shook. He was fucked. It could have been Cordelia or it could have been Grace. It could have been his mom or it could have been his grandfather. It could have been Matthew or it could have been Augustus. Either option made him panic more. He felt like he was being stabbed through his chest, over and over but the knife was never coming out. Just staying, burning, piercing, hurting.

"James?" A voice called. It was feminine. He really hoped it wasn't Grace. The voice called again and unwillingly he let out a particularly loud sob. He heard footsteps, but he didn't look. He preferred the darkness between his head and his legs and his arms that swallowed his tears and made sure he never saw the outside world ever again.

"James." He heard a gentle word, and someone's hand was on his head. It ran down his curls, then took one of his hands. He shuddered. He didn't want to see, he didn't want to see anything ever again. It stretched and took his other hands, pressing on his knuckles so his hands were no longer fists. Gently they were guided upwards. He didn't lift his head, but now he could see to the left the tiles on the floor, and to his right the folded dress of Cordelia sitting next to him. His hands were above his head with one of her hands and the other was on his chest, feeling his heart briefly. It went up and down in rapid, ugly motions with his chest. She drew it back, instead keeping his wrists between her fingers and pulling him to her. He let her, not having much fight in him anyhow. He was drunk and panicking, it didn't take much effort to steer him. Some people would take advantage of that.

She put his head over her chest, holding his hands to his own chest. Her arm wound around his back cradled his head, the other resting gently with his hands, her pointer finger keeping track of his chest. Her voice was delicate, an orange leaf in an autumn breeze. "I'm here, it's going to be okay."

She shushed him a few times, cooing gently for several minutes. At one point he thought he heard her humming a Welsh tune his father had taught him as a child, but he couldn't be sure. His thoughts were incoherent at best.

"Jaimie," she said gently, but her voice was not quiet, "What's happened?" His breathing had slowed and he could see now. He was resting against Cordelia still. He looked ahead past the kitchen island and stared at the red fabric of the couch. It was a pretty red, dark. It looked especially nice in the winter. Cordelia hummed above him, the vibrations on his skin as they passed through her chest. "Jaimie?"

"I just," he murmured, "I'm so tired."

"You're drunk."

"Mm."

"Okay, let's get you to bed."

He woke up with an aching head and stomach. On the more optimistic side of things, he didn't feel ready to have a panic attack. He got up and stumbled to the bathroom. He pissed, brushed his teeth, showered, and changed into a pair of pyjamas rather than just underwear and his shirt, Cordelia having taken his pants and shoes before she put him to bed. He didn't remember much. He remembered the state he was in as it was familiar to him, and he knew Cordelia had found him, and he knew what had happened at the university before that. Nothing was that clear in his early and late stages of his drunkenness. He came out of the bathroom, peering through the crack in their bedroom door. Cordelia was on the couch in her pyjamas. The TV was on but no sound came from it. She was looking at her phone, her legs folded to the side and a blanket tucked under her arms. Samira was in her cat bed on the corner end of the room next to the couch.

He stepped out, stepping forwards hesitantly. He lifted an arm when Cordelia's dark gaze locked on him. She didn't look mad, which was a relief. He stepped forwards again. "Cordelia, I'm sor-"

She flung herself from the confines of the blanket and the couch and was to him in two long strides. He stood there dumbly, arms still half outstretched and hands open and confused. Her arms were around his neck, hanging on him, her head under his chin. The maroon of her hair tickled his soft white skin and he stuttered for a moment before bringing his arms up as well. She squeezed tighter, on her toes, and she let out a long breath. He squeezed back, pressing his lips to her head and closing his eyes. They relished in the silence for a moment, simply holding the warm body of the other and it stayed like that until Cordelia's phone buzzed and James moved his head to glance at it.

She drew away first, still keeping her hands on the upper part of his arms, his fingertips brushing her shoulders. "I was worried," she said, and tried for a smile. "Jaimie, what happened?"

He swallowed, opening his mouth and closing it again like a man searching for the answer to protect him. "School," he murmured. "I didn't mean to-" he gestured with one hand before returning it to her, "Have that happen." He straightened and craned his neck over his shoulder. "The bottles-"

"I cleaned up," she said.

He looked back to her, eyes wide. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" She asked, genuinely concerned as she ran a hand down to his cheek, curling it to cup his chin. "I'm not angry. I just want to know what happened." She shook her head. "I was worried maybe it was because you were supposed to start counselling today."

His eyes widened and he ran a hand through his hair. "God, I forgot."

She smiled sweetly and shook her head. "I'm glad it wasn't that, then."

"Did you call the office?"

"Yeah, I told them you weren't feeling well."

He nodded, looking down. A well of shame pooled in his stomach and he needed a drink. Not alcohol, just, he was so thirsty his throat felt like a desert well. He squeezed her arms before walking away to get water out of the fridge. He felt his eyes on her, and he turned around, leaning on the counter. "It was just stress, Daisy," he said carefully.

"I've seen you stressed, nafasam. What happened?"

He shook his head. "That project," he mumbled. "Someone did it on suicide and then the next person did it on manipulation and I just," he rubbed his hands over his face, "I just lost it on the way home."

"You didn't ask to leave?" She asked, tilting her head.

He understood her confusion. He was in a psych class last year as well and once he'd ask to leave because he was uncomfortable with the video they were watching. "I did. My professor said no." He sighed. "I miss Mr. Bane. He was better."

She nodded. "Just leave next time.” His head snapped up to her. "They can't stop you."

"I-" he thought about it. That was true, no one could stop him if he walked out. He would rather suffer the glares of his professor than what he had just gone through earlier that day. "Good idea."

She nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He sighed. "No, thank you. I'm alright right now."

To his surprise, she smirked. "Your head doesn't even hurt?"

He groaned and she laughed softly. "That's not alright," he said, watching her come around the counter. "Do we have-"

She picked up a few pills already on the counter and handed them to her. He leaned over to kiss her forehead, then popped each pill and finished his water. He set it down in the sink, and once placed, Cordelia dragged him to the sofa. She kicked her phone to the floor, startling a laugh out of James. She laid down and pulled him on top of her. He yelped, but eventually let her adjust them as she sat fit. "Comfy?" She asked, placing a hand on his neck.

He smiled. His head was in her lap, one leg thrown over the back of his thigh and the other dangling off the couch. He didn't know how she was comfortable but she seemed perfectly content. Her hand lay on his neck and the other held the remote near her hip. He tilted his head up at her. "Perfect," he said, kissing her stomach through her sweatshirt.

She smiled. "What do you want to watch?"

He hummed, closing his eyes as he turned his head back to the TV. "Documentary?"

"You're a nerd."

"So are you."

"I didn't say I wasn't."

He snorted. "Find us a nerdy documentary."

She grinned. "WWII?"

"Do I look like my Dad-"

"Okay, okay," she laughed, the motion subtly shaking his head that had moved to her stomach. He pulled his hands up to wrap one around her waist, the other one dangling off the side of the couch. She smiled and flicked through a few things, eventually settling on ancient Rome.

He grinned. "You know they fight the Persians?"

"Persia started it," she grumbled. "Alastair is Persia, I am Rome."

"Pft-"

He started to laugh, hard, into her and she threw up her hands, looking down at him. "What?"

"That's the best comparison I've ever heard," he snickered through wheezing breaths. "You're a nerd."

She threw her head back. "It's not that funny."

"I'm hungover," he said, rubbing his face as he finally managed to compose himself. She grumbled something above him and he looked up, smiling at her.

She smiled back and ran the thumb of her free hand over his cheek. "Speaking of," she said. "Please don't drink away your problems."

He shook his head. "I won't. It was stupid. It won't happen again."

She nodded. "If I don't answer the phone I want you to leave a message. Just talk, even if it's to yourself. Okay?"

He nodded as well, because he had been ready to spill his guts to her when he first called her, but after the fact he felt that talking about it would result in an unpleasant response that he didn't want to handle at the moment. He promised himself he'd tell her the specifics of what bothered him tomorrow.

"Okay." He turned his head to kiss her palm. "Lesson learned."

She smiled. "Alright."

They settled back, Cordelia's head on a pillow propped against the couch side and James comfortably rested on his girlfriend. They watched the documentary for half an hour before James' eyes got heavy and he faded away into slumber. But compared to last time he was sober, warm, safe, and he knew he was loved.

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Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from my TSC taglist! 💙

@lightwoodsimp @life-through-the-eyes-of @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @melanielocke @justanormaldemon @ddepressedbookworm @thomastaircompassrose @starlight-in-my-eyes @livingformyself @bookishperfection @herondamnn @myangelbach @sanibond @readwithlivvy @grace-lightwoodd @spearsandcarstairs @imherongraystairstrash @sapphic-in @astriefer @the-ethereal-aura @yozinha-z @artist-in-soul @laylax13s @amchara

#another banger!!!!! I’m gonna go cry now

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justanormaldemon · 10 months

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Pentagrams in YA Fantasy and Fiction Literature:

So it’s time I made a proper post about this because it’s bothered me for years. And just a forewarning, the reason no one talks about this much is because part of a lot of pagan religions is being secretive and keeping our stuff close to our chest and staying in tight knit circles with each other, but this can go on no longer. For starters, I was raised wiccan and I am a deep follower of my religion and I have nothing but respect for it. I’m a large advocate for religious freedom and I will always fight against the hate witches and pagans receive.

Anyways, here’s the actual problem. You’re all reading this because I have seen countless amounts of pentagrams and other pagan symbols used incorrectly in fantasy and supernatural books or TV shows and movies. This is unacceptable. One, no one does their research on the correct use of pentagrams and specific versions of it before putting that out into the world. For example, everyone thinks the pentagram is a satanic symbol (also, satanic as in the christian satan, which is bullshit but that’s a post for another time). The pentagram in its most original form is very specifically wiccan:

The satanic pentagram looks like this:

And I’ll have you know that the satanic church does not associate with christian satanic beliefs, so just erase that entire idea for your mind. Here’s a really well done paper from the University of Vermont on wiccan and satanism.

Furthermore, a lot of very popular stories and shows have used pentagrams. I’m not upset over a couple small time authors or show directors not bothering to do their research, I mean big names. For instance, supernatural. Now, I watch supernatural for up to ten seasons and I do really love that show. But I have always had a problem with the (hopefully) unintentional disrespect for pagans and wiccans in that show. They have done the following to warrant a mention in this post:

Season 3: Cannibalistic pagan gods. (What the fuck?)

So many episodes: The use of pentagrams to summon/expel/trap demons or whatever monster. (That’s not what they’re for.)

4x7: There was an episode where they had to fight the demon/god “Sam-hain”. (I can’t ever tell you how angry this makes me. They found something involved in paganism and they were like “let’s make it a bad guy and let’s mispronounce it to shit”). (It’s pronounced SAH-VAYN and it’s a holiday, specifically halloween. You know, the one that rivals most major christian holidays across the globe).

How popular halloween is in America

Halloween overall

People in “pagan cults” sacrificing people. (Stop with the human sacrifice stereotype, I’m begging you. Someone asked me if I did human sacrifices irl when I told them I was wiccan when I was still very young and it makes me shudder to this day).

There are many more examples I could share but I think you get the idea and I don’t want to seem like a hater, it’s just that all of that is so disrespectful to pagans.

Moving on to my next primary example. The Shadowhunter Chronicles by Cassandra Clare. There is so much improper use of pentagrams in this series, especially in the Mortal Instruments, that drove me bonkers while reading it. Often they’re depicted being used by warlocks to, once again, summon something or cast a spell that has nothing to do with actual magic or paganism. What else are authors supposed to use, you ask? Well, I’m so happy to tell you.

Hey this is pretty cool. Could be used for sci-fi or fantasy.

Ooo very fancy. Reminds me of the shadowhunters tattoos, actually.

So cool. Just look at the very unique and non-religious symbols available to the public.

Another option, which is my favorite. Make it up. You’re a writer/artist. Pick up a pen and scribble on a paper until something cool pops out of your head. If I can do it, so can you, bestsellers and or creative writers. Stop using pentagrams or I will personally find you and bonk you on the head.

A couple authors guilty of this are Stephen King, Margaret Stiefvater, Cassandra Clare, and a few others I can’t think of right now but you’re welcome to leave some in the replies if you can think of any and I’ll add them. (This is not a diss on these authors by the way, what’s done is done, just stop it in the future).

And I should say, the reason no one does their research is because they don’t care about us. Like I said, we’re secretive and we prefer to keep to ourselves, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to spread false ideas that are harmful and dangerous to pagans. People play with other religions because they’re widespread enough that no one’s going to watch “Lucifer” and be like ‘oh my gosh the Christian god is awful’. It simply won’t happen because it’s a play on Christian myth and people know christians and at least a little bit about christianity. Pagans, however, have always had paranoia and hate and misinformation around them and it’s caused so much harm. People get hurt because some heretic thinks we’re eating babies over something as simple as a sentence describing a pentagram in a spell. No one bothers to check what it does and how we feel about it because they don’t even think about us outside of popular media and news conspiracy. If we’re all evil or weird or abnormal, then who cares if we’re disrespected? We do, we care very much, and we hope you do too, because we’re actually very good people and we’re human just like you.

I’ll probably write another post about the misuse of the word “warlock”, witch and magic stereotypes, and a little more, but this is my primary pet peeve. I’ve accepted that the media will never stop using “witch” in a system of magic or to refer to a certain person in a book/show who is essentially just a sorcerer or a wizard. It’s okay, I’m over it. That being said, I like seeing pretty, kick ass, no-shit witches, not green, wart covered, cackling witches. Stop it. I will bonk you with my broom if I see one more evil, ugly witch taken seriously as an antagonist. And black cats are not bad luck, I have one in my lap right now and she is a baby and she loves people and she is not bad luck.

If anyone has questions feel free to ask. If any pagans (+2 years of practicing, if you’re new I don’t want to here any advice) or religious experts (and I do mean you studied, not you hopped online for five minutes) have anything to add, please feel free to add anything I missed or correct me if I’ve made any mistakes. I especially invite any druids, hellenics, or heathens to add to this because I know very little surrounding these branches and I don’t know what applies and what doesn’t. This post is to educate and if I see any hate you will be blocked and reported. Please feel free to like and I beg of you to reblog this. It’s so important to a community that’s a lot larger than most people think. Thank you for reading.

Mutuals rb please, but no pressure 🤍: @rinadragomir @life-through-the-eyes-of @melanielocke @justanormaldemon @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @thomastaircompassrose @grace-lightwoodd @ddepressedbookworm @imherongraystairstrash @heavenwontbethe-same @starlight-in-my-eyes @drunkonimagination @fatilightwood @astriefer @laylax13s @amchara @zoya-nazyalensy-supremacy @delightfullyterrible @luciehercndale

#DAMN I just learned something!#very interesting give it a read!#my eyes have been OPENED

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justanormaldemon · 10 months

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justanormaldemon · 10 months

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Sweet Secrets

Wesper One-Shot

Prompt: “Your shirt is inside out.” “Can you help me fix that?”

CW: None

Category: Fluff, humour

A/N: Just flirty Wesper fluff because I wish I could read six of crows for the first time all over again <3

“Wylan,” Jesper called, poking his head around the bathroom door frame. Wylan was doing his hair, and he looked up to see his husband’s hair in a state of disarray.

“Jesper,” he said warily, raising an eyebrow. “What did you do?”

He ran a hand over his, seeing Wylan look up at it. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

“We have to leave soon, Jes.”

He held up his hand, the sleeves of his tight shirt a nice navy on his shiny, dark skin. He wore grey pants, lighter than his eyes, but darker than the silver rings on his fingers. “It’ll be fine. Should I wear the purple vest or the red vest?”

“The red,” he said, turning back to the mirror. Jesper grinned and disappeared around the corner. “It looks nice with the blue.”

He called a ‘thank you’ and Wylan heard the ruffling of clothes and snapping of buttons. He sighed happily and set his brush down, making sure his own overcoat and sweater were well adjusted. Thankfully this meeting wasn’t particularly formal, and he could get away with a nice sweater and long coat and would still end up the best dressed there next to Jesper. They both had to meet a few assistants who worked for some council merchers, and it was a small dinner to discuss transactions. One mercher had asked Wylan why he didn’t send his assistant, who Jesper was considered, to both their displeasure, in his place. He had replied he liked to be present for all things involving his business because things were easily “misplaced” or “confused” when one didn’t do it themselves. That had shut the man up, and even gotten him to actually show up to a business meeting himself that Wylan hosted a few weeks ago.

Jesper was scanning the shoe selection in their closet when Wylan exited the bathroom. He went to get his satchel. He’d never been in danger at a meeting, but the barrel (and Kaz) had made him cautious. Just as he reached for it atop the chest at the foot of their bed, something about Jesper caught his eye. He had wandered over to their dresser near the bed, exchanging a couple of rings for ones he liked better, and Wylan eyed the sleeves and cuffs of his shirt. The seam was overly exposed.

“Your shirt is inside out,” he said.

Jesper didn’t miss a beat. He simply turned and replied, “Can you help me fix that?”

He blushed and cleared his throat, sighing as he discarded his satchel’s strap and walking back over to the taller man. He took hold the buttons on his vest and undid them, ignoring Jesper’s smirk and confident stance. He set the vest on the dresser, then stepped back and crossed his arms, looking up at the other man. His eyes were mischievous, at least.

“Fix it,” Wylan said, gesturing at the material.

“I need help,” he said, mocking a whine. Wylan raised a sceptical eyebrow. “My arms are just so tired.”

“From what?”

“Carrying you to bed last nig-”

“Okay,” he said, holding up a hand. He reached around him and undid the tie on the back of the shirt, pulling it down and off his arms. He spun it around for better leverage to turn it right.

“Why so shy, merchling,” he asked, leaning on the dresser. “You’re not usually so,” he waved, searching for the right word, “Worried.”

He turned it out, holding it up to inspect it, then looking around it at Jesper. “Someone could hear us. The servants are only gone at night and my mom is awake right now.”

Jesper scoffed. “She’s in the art room. Across the building.”

He smiled at him, gesturing for him to come closer so he could put the shirt on. Jesper stepped up to him. “Well, I don’t like anyone knowing what we say when we’re alone.” He looked up with intent. “No matter what it is.”

“How secretive,” he said, looking over his shoulder as Wylan walked around him to tie the shirt. “Who knew you were so private.”

“You,” he said, putting his chin on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him. Jesper placed his hands over his. “And you’re teasing me on purpose.”

“What?” He said in a high voice, and he laughed as he unravelled himself and walked over to his satchel. “I would never, merchling.”

He hummed, checking to make sure everything was inside the satchel. “Right, that wasn’t the base of our relationship.”

“Teasing you? It was less teasing, more flirting.”

“It was a combination,” he said, smiling over at his husband. The glow from the lamp on the dresser bounced off him in a line of yellow, illuminating the sharp lines and edges of his face, his skin shiny like a pearl in the ocean. He looked in the mirror, checking his hair once more, and Wylan came over to part the wild coils sprouting from his head like a cluster of heather. Jesper had been growing it out, and he had never been taught by his mother how to maintain his hair with it longer, and Colm didn’t know much in the way of hair upkeep.

“Are you going to cut it?” Wylan asked, hugging him with his chest pressed to his back again. He admired his hair from behind him while Jesper inspected it in the mirror.

He smiled. “I’m not sure yet. Nina and Inej are coming soon and I suppose they would know best.”

“Why?”

“Because Nina is the sole keeper of Matthias’ hair and Kaz doesn’t have hair advice to give. And have you seen Inej’s hair? She had a secret and I know it.”

He smiled and kissed him one more time, then finally put his satchel over his shoulder and opened the bedroom door, going down to the foyer. Jesper joined him five minutes later, having put his vest on again and finally digging up satisfactory shoes from the closet. He offered Wylan his arm, which he took gratefully, and they bid Marya goodbye as they made their way down the front path. The whole thing was wonderfully domestic.

They got in the carriage and it clattered away across the cobblestone streets of the Geldstraat. Wylan watched street lamps being lit out the window as the sky grew blue and dark. He put his head on Jesper’s shoulder, sighing contentedly. The other man smiled and put his arm around him, a warm sensation settling over him as he closed his eyes. He opened them again when Jesper kissed his head, and he smiled up at him. It was a quiet ride to the meeting, but it was sweet.

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@awesome-fandom-panda @justanormaldemon @life-through-the-eyes-of

#‘Carrying you to bed last nig-‘ OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH #god I wish I could read SOC for the first time again too 😔#this was really cute!!

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