cakes in a jar

the signs as suburban haunts

ARIES: flattened paper boats scattered like the remains of a murdered animal along a dried up river, rundown motels with their blasted neon signs and smashed-in windows, pink streamers from some neighborhood child’s birthday party shuffling across the street like bright tumbleweed, a train rattling off into the breathless night & the trace remnants of a week old bonfire found in the middle of nowhere. 

TAURUS: chipped paint, shattered shot glasses lying across an abandoned pool table missing a few billiard balls, flyers rustling like autumn leaves against the tempestuous tides of the wind, advertising concerts & magic shows that took place in 2005, the sillage of old perfume clogging up the air, still thick as the scent of blood or wildflowers.

GEMINI: the corpse of a cigarette that hasn’t touched a mouth in months, a dilapidated playground where lost souls come out to play, threadbare curtains ripped like the wings of a dissected bird, strange red-brown stains across the hotel bedsheets, a gate grown weary with new-forming foliage & age, whining erroneously whenever maneuvered. 

CANCER: an empty casket, coffee rim imprints across hardwood tables, an old, tattered shoe lying haphazardly on the side of the road, a junkyard littered with ancient cars still soggy with stories, a pick-up with a broken windshield, a cadillac with a massacred paint job, someone’s motorcycle with blood staining the front tire, an askew portrait with eyes that follow you around the room.

LEO: a carnival horse with one eye scratched out, a daycare centre that shut down years ago, plagued with the colorful ghosts of children’s drawings still tacked to the crumbling walls, a spiral staircase that seems to shift direction when nobody’s paying attention, crunched up beer cans rolling across an empty rooftop & lichen kissing the concrete. 

VIRGO: the supermarket, flickering & eerie at night like the shadows unearthed beneath troubled eyes, owls stirring in between the murmuring trees, a single upturned grave in a cemetery that isn’t supposed to be notorious for hauntings, an old fountain still glistening with pennies that are no longer considered currency, a collapsed bottle of wine running the tiles red.

LIBRA: handprints imprinted onto fogged-up windows, red rooms crowded with developing photographs of people whose faces you recognize but cannot quite place, broken doll heads, a necklace that erupted into a sea of pearls, a deflated blow up kiddie pool collecting parched grass and critters, a busted arcade game & the laughter of people long gone still trapped inside the walls.

SCORPIO: books with grimacing yellow pages, someone attempting to sell you a cursed object on etsy, a leaky shower-head, a clock that’s stuck in time, a torn, unravelled couch sitting deserted in someone’s front lawn, candy stores that proclaim sales on expired sweets & ruddy patches of farmland. 

SAGITTARIUS: basements stacked with unwanted toys, a box of thin-mints, footsteps reverberating around the house when it’s 2 AM and you’re home alone, a burned down lemonade stand, that weird alien light in the third window of your neighbor’s house that never seems to get turned off, a certain rattling coming from the kitchen.

CAPRICORN: rain pummeling against damp ceilings, clothes ripped off the washing line, an empty aquarium, obscure little thrift stores that sell leather jackets from the eighties, gas station lights flirting with you from the distance, the alley where they say the vagabonds roam their night countries, sniffing up and dressing down and slitting the throats of angels.

AQUARIUS: those tiny coffee shops that fill you with nostalgia for places you’ll never visit, ‘JESUS LOVES YOU’ spray-painted across the sides of ramshackle buildings, an antique almirah scratched to high hell, a monster in the closet, the tunnel beneath the bridge that half the town believes is a gateway to hell, smoking up in trip mall parking lots. 

PISCES: halloween decor presented in shop windows a couple months early, visiting that lake where you heard that one kid drowned, the garage door slamming without cause or notice, storing fireflies in jars, drugstore makeup, birthday cake flavored oreos, a wheeled desk chair that seems to turn on its own when nobody’s in the office, a candle snuffed out on a windless evening.

Tying the knot

Let me start by saying, it’s not what it sounds like. :P

Didn’t mean to turn this into an actual one-shot, but it just got away from me. @msmanga14 sent her request in a message, so I couldn’t post an ask, but here’s the request: How about 22 & 27? If that’s okay? 22 (tie a cherry stem with your tongue) 27 (go commando) with NaLu! 

Hope you like this! Sorry it doesn’t focus a lot on the commando part, mainly the cherry stem thing. I got so carried away I almost forgot to even add that part. 

Summary: Fairy Tail was known for its teamwork. So, why was Lucy surprised when Natsu asked if she wanted to work together to tie a cherry stem with their tongues? I don’t own Fairy Tail, Hiro Mashima does. 

Rated: T, for foul language and adult situations. 

Pairing: Natsu/Lucy

Genre: Friendship/Romance

Word Count: 2.4K

Read on FF.net or AO3.


“Okay Natsu, truth or dare.”

The dragon slayer tapped at his chin as if he was thinking, but judging by the glint in his eye, Lucy knew he wasn’t going to pick truth.

“Dare!”

Lucy looked around her apartment, wondering what she could make him do. Her eyes landed on her fridge, remembering there was something she always wanted to try. ‘Maybe I should have him try first? See how hard it is…’

Getting up, Lucy made her way over to her fridge to remove a jar of cherries. She brought it over, smiling as she set it on the ground. “I want you to tie a cherry stem with your tongue.”

Natsu snorted, clearly underestimating the challenge. “Piece of cake!” He opened the jar, taking out a single cherry. Lucy watched as he popped it into his mouth, pulling out the stem as he chewed on the small fruit. After he swallowed, he put the stem back in her mouth.

Lucy didn’t bother holding back her giggles as Natsu grew more and more frustrated with the stem, his lips twisting as he moved it in his mouth, trying to maneuver it with his tongue.

She fell backwards in a fit of laughter when she saw fire coming from his mouth, the stem disintegrating in the flame. Natsu let out a roar as he picked out another cherry, trying again.

By the time Natsu went through five more cherries, Lucy was crying from laughing, her stomach cramping in the process. She couldn’t help it. Natsu looked too cute trying to tie that knot.

“H-here,” she giggled, taking a cherry for herself. “I’ll try.”

“It’s impossible,” Natsu muttered, tempted to knock the whole jar over in his aggravation. The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that Lucy would kick him if he messed up her floor… again.

Natsu turned his glare to Lucy, watching as her mouth moved, her lips pressed tightly together. His cold stare slowly faded, replaced with a lazy grin as he watched her struggle. Somehow, knowing Lucy couldn’t get it either made him feel a little better, even if that thought made him feel guilty at the same time. What could he say? Sometimes he could be a sore loser.

“You’re right, this is impossible.”

She pulled the stem from her mouth, seeing the bends along the red line. She was about to get up and throw the stem away when she froze, unsure if she heard Natsu correctly. “What did you just say?” she asked, shooting him an incredulous look.

Natsu raised a brow, as if he was wondering why she was looking at him like that. “I said, maybe we should try to work together to tie it. Isn’t teamwork our best strength?”

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anonymous asked:

Concept: you don't even need the little edible plate. You can just buy frosting and eat it with a spoon. No one at the store will stop you.

i CAN and i HAVE but buying a jar of frosting at the grocery store does not allow me to support small bakeries that put tons of homemade cream cheese frosting on their tiny red velvet cupcakes

“The rustic presentation is losing its luster. This summer, we definitely have seen a movement away from mason jars, wood planks, craft paper, naked cakes, and hair wreaths,” says Kathleen Schaffer of the hospitality company Schaffer. “Chic, elegant tablescapes and more refined menus with clean presentations seem to be the next trend. A return to elegance and sophistication is always inevitable among trendsetters.”

Read more about the top wedding trends of 2017.

The Adventures of Todd and Granny

(Alternatively: “I Saw Granny Ethel with the Devil”)

(Repost for graphic addition)

Part I | Part II | Part III




writing-prompt-sAn old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.




It isn’t uncommon for this particular demon to be summoned—from exhausting Halloween party pranks in abandoned barns to more legitimate (more exhausting) ceremonies in forests—but it has to admit, this is the first time it’s been called forth from its realm into a claustrophobic living room bathed in the dull orange-pink glow of old glass lamps and a multitude of wide-eyed, creepy antique porcelain dolls that could give Chucky a run for his money with all of their silent, seething stares combined. Accompanying those oddities are tea cup and saucer sets on shelves atop frilly doilies crocheted with the utmost care, and cross-stitched, colorful ‘Home Sweet Home’s hung across the wood-paneled walls.

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.”

Well, that settles it. Whoever, wherever, Todd is, he’s clearly missing out. The demon will just have to be her grandson from now on.

Tea Party [Saeran Choi/Reader]

Summary: It’s bad enough that Ray went to the trouble to create and elaborate tea party for you, it’s worse when he wants to feed you.

A/n: i loved him in v’s route, so here’s a little fic. this was inspired partially by a piece of artwork where mc and ray were enjoying tea through the seasons. but, yeah. claps. here were go!


“This was a good choice. Today was a great day to enjoy tea together." 

 You offered your companion a coy smile as you blew at the wisps of steam that coiled in the air from your drink. Undertones of citrus danced on your tongue, meshing well with the full-bodied black tea that filled your mouth. The heat of your beverage singed your tongue and cheeks, nearly prompting you to spit it out yet you resisted. 

 "What’s wrong?” Ray asked, casting you a cautious look that seemed to ease when he noticed you straining a smile as you swallowed your tea. “Oh, you didn’t give the tea enough time to cool down." 

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