#Another Side Hollow Creek | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laurfilijames · 1 year

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Pairing: Fili x female reader

Words: 2,181

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Smut. Dry humping.

Summary: You set out alone at night in search of water, straying far from where the company has set up camp. Fili follows you and you're forced to hide from a group of orcs, the fear and adrenaline sparking something else in both of you.

A/N: It's day one of Deano Bingo, baby!!! This little fic was inspired by a scene in Rings of Power that I loved and couldn't resist! Prompts used were Fili, Accidental Kiss and Dry Humping.

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He was cunning, you thought, knowing Fili was following you deep into the quickly darkening forest, thinking he was sly and quiet but really neither of the two. You could easily hear branches and dried leaves that had fallen and been forgotten about crunching beneath his heavy boots, blanketing the ground from an autumn that had long since passed. You smiled as you continued, your own footsteps careful and calculated, aware that many unwanted creatures could greet you at any moment.

It was a risk, setting out in search of fresh water at such an hour, not to mention by yourself, but there hadn't been any orc sightings in days and in all honesty you were in need of a break from the company if even for a few brief moments.

It was evident that Fili was tracking you simply for your protection; constantly concerning himself over you and making sure you were safe in as many ways as he could control, but part of you hoped another reason had sent the heir out to scout you as well.

Tension had grown between you since day one of the journey, and you were happy to steal little moments away with him whenever you could, even if the threat of danger lurked ahead.

The creek that the company had passed a day earlier was not far off from what you could recall and with what little light the moon offered you, and you focused hard to pick up on familiar landmarks you had noted as you passed, your hands touching the rough bark on trees as you skimmed past them.

Unexpectedly, a hand grabbed your arm and easily turned you around, your free hand instinctively clutching the hilt of your dagger that was strapped to your waist, freeing it from its sheath to land on the throat of the smiling dwarf now in front of you.

"Did I not tell you to be careful out here?" Fili chuckled, not moving away from your blade but instead leaning slightly into it, the sound of the stubble on his neck scratching against it mixing with your breaths as you tried to calm your racing heart and burning lungs.

His blue eyes twinkled; glowing from the silvery light shining into them from above as well as what seemed to be his amusement of your knife pressed on his pulse, the addition of his crooked grin not helping to lower the combined fury of nerves and arousal that was stirred up in you in a mere matter of seconds.

"Fili, you can't scare me like that! I'll have your head!" you whispered in a tone so laced with anger that if you had not needed to keep quiet, your voice would have chased the birds from the trees.

He dared to chuckle as you finally brought the glimmering blade away from his thick neck; the urge to press your lips to it and suck and nip until he growled with pleasure raging through you even more so than the adrenaline from him surprising you.

"Don't pretend like you didn't know I was following you," he said confidently. "I could tell by your gait you were fully aware of my presence."

Giving him a sideways glance, you tucked your dagger back into its holder and began marching forward again, partially hating how obvious your want for him was, the other half of you flattered he paid close enough attention to know your desires.

"I think we're far enough out," he stated, the sound of his steps halting behind you, making you stop as well and turn around to face him.

"Far enough for what?" you quipped, watching his inviting lips curl into a devious smile once more, his dimples becoming hollow shadows on each side of his cheeks. "I came out here for water."

He hummed as you turned back and continued walking forward, and with a few long strides you felt him directly behind you, his pace prideful as he kept up, an occasional brush of his arm against your side filling you with excitement. Maybe the opportunity for a dip in the creek would present itself…

"Hey, wait." Fili spoke, his voice dropping to be low and serious.

Matching him, you paused on the spot, listening intently for what he might have heard. Footsteps that appeared to be made by numerous sets of feet echoed in the distance, and your heart leapt in your throat when Fili took your hand and quickly and quietly led you to a dense thicket of trees. He squatted and tucked himself against a fallen trunk; the circumference of the log large enough to shelter you both, and pulled you down beside him. Slowly, he rose up on his heels, carefully peering over the top of the dead wood whose only sign of life was borrowed from the moss that grew on its shell, and then quickly sat back down.

A distressed look drew across the parts of his features you were able to see, making worry and fear that had started out small explode within you, and you had to clench your teeth to stop them from chattering together.

Orcs marched not one hundred paces from where you sat barely hidden, the pummeling of their feet making the ground shake beneath them, their calls and grunts so clear it seemed like they were creeping up directly behind you. You jumped slightly when Fili's hand reached for yours, the warmth from it and his thumb running over the back of your hand helping to calm you, and you did your best to focus on his face as he kept his eyes fixed on the area above your head.

His chest heaved and his nostrils flared as he tried hard to keep his breathing as quiet as he could, his own fear evident as a bead of sweat trailed slowly down his brow and threatened to fall in his eye.

It seemed like forever that you sat there, and still more and more orcs trudged by, their numbers not appearing to fade. Your leg began to fall asleep; tingling with pins and needles and completely numb from your knee down, and you adjusted slightly to relieve the painful ache, only to have a small branch slip out from under your boot and roll down the hill you sat on. You made to speak; to apologize or gasp, you weren't even sure, but before you could, Fili's hand flew to cover your mouth, his eyes wide and staring at you pleadingly.

You breathed in his scent, watching as he brought his index finger to his lips to encourage more silence from you before you closed your eyes and a paralyzing fear began to take over.

Two orcs heard your disruption and moved to investigate closer, the light from their torches spreading out over your surroundings as they came nearer. Tears stung at your eyes and one fell to slide between your cheek and Fili's palm that remained securely over your face as you squeezed them shut tightly, not daring to reach out to clasp your shaking hands onto him no matter how badly you wanted to.

One orc lingered, hovering over the very spot you were sure you were no longer concealed by, each sniff he made to track a scent teasing you into thinking you were discovered. Bravely, you opened your eyes and held your breath, watching as the foul creature swept the arm holding his torch back and forth above your heads, somehow oblivious to your presence. You glanced back at Fili, watching him watch the orc, and for a moment you worried his blue eyes would reach out like a beacon and reveal you.

The orc turned and quickly scampered off, his companion following him closely, and you could visibly see Fili relax, letting out a quiet, but long sigh as he slowly withdrew his hand from your mouth.

"I'm sorry, I just tried t-" you started in a desperate whisper, shifting yourself fully to get into the more desired position you had intended to before, right at the same time Fili leaned forward to move off the stick that was digging into the back of his leg. You couldn't have been closer to each other before, and now as you moved simultaneously your faces met, noses brushing as the corners of your lips grazed, the braid on the left side of his moustache dangling to hit your chin.

Flinching as if you'd touched fire, you retreated back slightly, but not before Fili could grip the back of your head and pull you against him again, his lips crashing against yours with purpose.

You whined as his tongue prodded for access to your mouth, and you happily granted his wish without hesitation, the taste and scent of him overwhelming and immediately drowning out the fear you'd felt just moments ago. You leaned into him, wiggling ever-closer to achieve contact with his body that yours had longed for for too long a time, his warmth and buzzing charge from the thrilling experience radiating onto you.

His hand fell from your head and carded down your waist, gripping at your hips and finally your thigh where he gave a squeeze to encourage your own thought of swinging it over his lap to straddle him.

A whimper left you as you settled onto the hard bulge in his trousers, forcing him to kiss you harder in order to keep you quiet; the threat of being found not eliminated quite yet.

Your hands wandered into the opening of his fur-lined jacket, finding the neckline of his tunic where his chest hair always peeked out to tease you, and you squeezed at his flaming skin as a dizzying yearning washed over you like never before.

"Fili…" you whispered as your lips briefly parted, wanting to praise him and tell him how long and how furiously you had longed for him.

His lips turned up into a sated smile, looking at you briefly with a burning need that seemed to match yours.

"We still need to keep quiet, amralime," he murmured, his eyes flickering from yours down to your lips, and even further to your breasts that heaved in his sightline.

You couldn't risk undressing, needing to be ready to flee or fight at any given moment, so as much as both of you were crazed in the desire to feel your bare bodies against each other, you settled with what you could do.

The friction of his hardness was boundless as you steadily began to rock on him; the slow, rolling motion satisfying your need to feel him on your most delicate parts, his cock straining against the leather as it pressed up against you.

It was quiet now; the orcs having made their way through without noticing the needy, panting breaths shared between you and Fili or the noise of the material that kept you separated shifting and rustling as your actions became faster and more feverous.

It felt divine, and even though you would have preferred to have the silky, veiny flesh of his member sliding between your folds, soaking him until he pushed inside, you knew he would help find many other opportunities to allow for it.

The thought of having to sneak and steal away moments with Fili helped spike your arousal, your slick lubricating your clit enough to make you shudder as your climax bellowed deep within your core.

Holding tightly onto your hips, Fili aided your rocking as he bucked up into you, lifting his hips while forcing you down hard onto his barriered cock. A feral need overcame him; crazed in his desire to feel your wet flesh encase him so much that the earlier danger vanished from his mind completely, and he dug his face into your flushed neck to stifle his groans as his engorged and heavily leaking head fell victim to the persistence of your body. There was no way to hold back, and knowing you were at the peak of ecstasy with him, he came with an unforgiving force that left him clawing at you in an attempt to bring him back to reality.

Your fingers weaved in his tresses and pulled, signaling your arrival to your end, your mewling becoming uncontrollable and slightly louder despite your efforts to muffle them. Fili slotted his lips with yours again, swallowing your moans, feeling you explode over him as your body shook and quivered and crashed against him.

He held you as close as he could, your kissing becoming more languid and sweeter as time passed, and finally you convinced yourself to break away from him enough to look at his contented face.

"Should we head back to camp?" you asked, quietly still, pressing your forehead against his while praying to Mahal he would disagree with your suggestion.

"Hmm, no, not yet," he said somewhat cheekily, tilting his head to the side to catch your gaze before brushing his nose back and forth on yours. "We should stay a while yet, just to be sure."

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Taglist:

Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea @enchantzz @blairsanne @legolaslovely @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @sketch-and-write-lover @jotink78 @medusas-hairband @feeweeeee @missihart23 @fortheloveofdurin @i-am-still-bb @roobear68

Fili:

@shethereadinghobbit @ragsweas @faeriefics

#deanobingo2022 #deano bingo #fili #fili x female reader #fili smut #the hobbit #fili durin #dean o'gorman #fili x reader

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hyperfixat · 8 months

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sun and moon rpg au that i forgot to post here for like a year >.< ~4000 words

this was written at the peak of world of warcraft hyperfixation btw

Healers are vital to parties and guilds. It’s rare to find one on their own, unclaimed. Priests and Druids tend to be weaker when it comes to fighting, seeing as it wasn’t what they trained for.

You’re a Priest, on the low end of the average level of the humans and beasts around you. In the Hollowed Woods, beasts range from the thirties to the fifties. Your current leveling placed you at a thirty-five.

Your base is set up in a secluded area of the edge of the woods, near the beginning of a small creek. The only beasts you had to deal with were in the lower thirties; Vengeful Sprites, Were-Hounds, and the stray Fiery Spirit. Very rarely did parties run through your spot in the woods, with their numbers they charge into the deep.

There is safety in numbers, you knew this, and you had previously been in a small guild. Three Paladins, two mages, a warrior, and you. During an adventure in the Barren Lands, you’d failed as a healer. The party fought a Dessert Tumbler, they fought well, but you couldn’t heal them quick enough. Both Mages and two of the Paladins fell before the three of you remaining turned tail and ran.

After the monster had cleared you went back to the spot of the fight and tried your hardest to resurrect your friends, but your Mana kept faltering before you could bring them back.

From there you’d fought your way to the Hollowed Woods, a place you knew you could probably survive alone.

You’re too scared of failure to join another party or guild. At first there were offers from groups of humans traveling through, but soon word traveled and some became resentful that you were greedy. A Priest keeping their oh so desired Magic all to themself.

But humans like those tend to be far and few between.

Morning comes with sunrise and the shuffling of forest critters rushing around, scavenging for food and avoiding their predators. The sounds of the woods wake you as always.

Your morning routine consists of filling your flask at the creek’s edge and splashing some of the cool on your face. You don your usual armor, a simple cloth cloak, and you tuck your dagger into the small sheath in your pocket.

There’s no point in carrying a wand with you, Magic comes from within. Besides, wands are expensive. It would take a month's worth of pelts to get you the money that you’d need to buy one. Money gets spent on supplies and repairs, important things.

The weather is pleasant, warm spring air. Sunlight shines down through the tree branches creating intricate patterns on the floor of the woods.

The sound of rustling from a bush a couple yards away disrupts you from filling your flask. Your head flies up at the sound, expecting a deer or rabbit.

A Warrior, brandishing two large silver maces, covered in blood stumbles into your view. They haven’t seen you yet, so you duck behind a tree to observe the warrior.

They’re panting, staring into the direction they’d run from, maces shaking in their hands. When they take a moment to glance around, your blood chills. You know this fighter.

Raphael was once an ally, he was kind to you, and supplied occasional companionship. After a few weeks of friendship, he kept pressuring you to join his party. After you declined about a million times, he grew resentful. Raphael fought you, hurt you. He said if he ever found you again, you’d be dead.

Raphael looks to have lost his party. From the brush a long thin hand reaches through, grasping the thin branches of the bush and pushing them aside to stick a head through.

You’ve never seen anything like the monster. A large circular face with a large, cruel grin, one side a waxing moon, colored a deep gray, the other a dark, midnight blue. Upon the Lovecraftian horror’s head perched a beat up, torn nightcap decorated with stars.

The monster stalked Raphael, its large eyes glowing a bright red. Raphael backed up into the clearing and the monster followed, revealing a long humanoid body. You couldn’t recognize the clothing it wore, too unfamiliar with the deeper woods.

Raphael readied himself in preparation for the attack. The monster lunged at him and Raphael attempted to dislodge the monster’s path with his weapons, but he only threw his own body to the side. He stumbled and in the moment of weakness he was pinned.

You watch with bated breath as the monster’s slender hands wrapped around Raphael’s throat and held. It looked up around the tree tops, and you did too.

In the branches of one of the thicker trees crouched another creature akin to the one currently holding Raphael captive. This monster however was yellow with orange triangular rays shooting out around its head.

The monster on the ground’s head twisted 360degrees unnaturally spinning from its base at the neck. The voice that comes out of the beast is deep and scratchy as it calls to its partner up above, “he’s down, Sunny.”

The beast in the trees climbs down with the skill of an acrobat. As he descends you see that this beast is scratched all along its yellow chest, a thick deep blue oozes out of the gashes slowly. Sunny, its partner had called it, approached Raphael with caution.

Once the solar beast was in Raphael’s line of sight, he began struggling with a renewed vigor. The lunar beast hissed at him and he stilled.

Sunny’s large grin never faltered as he glared down at Raphael.

“You wish to fight me like a true warrior would?” Sunny mocked, voice warbled, yet sweet like honey. “Let him up, Moon.”

Moon stepped up and off of the struggling human, who quickly scampered away and backed against a tree.

Sunny’s head turned to an angle a little less than natural. “Come on, little human this is what you wanted, is it not?”

Raphael’s eyes went everywhere, as soon as he recognized the small shadow of your hut in the woods he cried out desperately for you. His voice was broken and dry as he sobbed your name.

You stiffened at the call. Of course he’d come crawling back in his time of need, begging to not be sent to the Other Side. You aren’t going to help him, and you don’t even feel bad about it. When the humanoids send him away, he’ll waste away into the ground for a week before he’ll resurrect.

From the brush where the fighters had come from, a Mage ran through. All eyes flicked to her, she licked her dry lips and froze as the two monsters stared at her. She quickly began casting a spell, blue magic swirling between her hands. Moon approaches her, leaving Sunny to the Warrior.

The pairs began to fight, Moon and the Mage’s fight was much more eventful, the two seeming uninjured. You were in a daze as their fight distracted you, a whirl of different shades of blues. You hear a shriek from the other pair and see that Raphael had thrown one of his maces at Sunny, hitting him in his chest, dead center.

Raphael was beginning to heal and gain energy the more he sat still and rested, Sunny was going to lose. Moon’s fight wouldn’t end for a long while.

It was a spur of the moment decision as you began a quick Rejuvenation spell to send to Sunny. As soon as the sparkly green Magic appeared around it, Sunny looked around for the source, but upon seeing no one turned back to Raphael.

Their fight continued on a more even playing field and after about ten minutes of the sound of grunting and hissing coming from both groups, Sunny and Moon reigned victorious. They had, to your distaste, consumed some of their opponents' remains after winning.

You continued to stay behind your tree and waited for the deep forest beasts to return to their home, but to your horror, they began searching around for the mysterious source of healing Sunny claimed it had felt mid-fight.

The two separated and began their hunt for you. You were stuck if you ran they’d see you; if you stood like an idiot behind a tree they’d find you. Who’s to say they won’t kill you as well?

Moon was coming in your direction, head spinning a continuous 180, side to side.

The leaves of the forest floor crunched as he wove between the trees, and all too soon his red eyes landed on you.

“Healer?” Its tone was softer than it had been in battle.

You, in a panic, glanced back in the direction of your house before thinking better of running. You nodded at Moon. It’s tall, much taller than you, and deadly as you had seen.

“Thank you. I’m not sure why you did what you did, but you are in my and Sun’s debt.” It bowed at you, silly hat jingling as it did so.

He turned to the direction Sun had gone and shouted for it.

The yellow counterpart quickly ran over to where you and Moon stood. You shrunk back a little as Sun stopped in front of you.

“Thank you, little healer.” Just like Moon, its tone softened and sincerity bleed through his words.

You meekly nodded with wide, shy eyes.

“You’re welcome to our part of the forest anytime, Priest.” Sun began saying as he untied one of the jingling bracelets on his wrist and held it out to you. “Make sure you purposely shake this a couple times and me and Moon will escort you to safety.”

And with that the two were off, not even gleaning your name.

Deep within the Hollowed Woods, Sun and Moon reside in a humble treehouse decked with mere necessities. They lie upon their shared bed thoughts of you in their minds. Why would a human help them? They’re natural enemies.

The Warrior and Mage they’d defeated crossed their minds as well, did you know them? Were you at war with their group? You had been alone, so surely you wouldn’t wage a war by yourself.

They’d help you if you were to fight, a sweet little Priest that helped them out.

Sun recounted his side of the day aloud, describing the cool chill that your healing had done. He said it was like a cup of ice water on a hot summer’s day.

They hoped you called for them soon.

You grasp Sun’s bracelet in your hand, observing it. The red linen was heavy in your hand as you pondered the implications of calling the monsters back to you. They were so large compared to you, easily two to three feet taller than you. The image of their hands bloodied with blood of your kin as they ate flashed through your mind.

What if you called them at a bad time, when they were much too hungry? Maybe turn on you, not that they wouldn’t attack in any other scenario.

With a trembling hand you tucked the bangle into your pocket, securing it. You don’t want to have to call for the monsters, but emergencies will be emergencies.

The next few weeks went by quietly. You managed to hunt a boar down, meat and leather that would provide you with food and money for a couple weeks.

Summer days were the loudest of the year, animals, monsters, and humans alike wandered the woods more in the pleasant weather. With the travelers came enemies, of course.

Rouges are stealthy, quiet, and blend in with their surroundings well. The ambient noise of wildlife is calming and you’re relaxing against the river bank. A small rustle came from across the clearing. You get a sense of deja vu for the incident a couple weeks ago.

You lean up with your hands supporting you as a figure looks around the environment. They spot you and pull a dagger from their waistband. You scramble to your feet. They’re rapidly approaching you, posture hostile and aggressive.

You’re frozen as they charge toward you and grab you by your neck.

You’re pushed against their body with the knife dull against your throat, pressing in. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly.

“You’re gonna come with me and help me out a little, okay? This can be easy or hard, Priest.” Their breath is hot in your ear and you repress a shudder.

You nod your head rapidly, fear coursing through your veins. “I’ll do what you need.”

“Good,” a curt response and they pick you up by your waist and throw you over their shoulder. Temporarily out of breath you stare at the ground as the Rouge begins walking back into the deep of the woods.

The trip isn’t long, maybe five minutes. The sounds of battle greets you and you struggle to look up and see what’s happening around you. Unceremoniously you hit the ground as you’re dropped. The Rouge looms above you and gives you a simple command.

“Heal them.”

You look at the fight, two Warriors, a Hunter, and a wolf (probably the Hunter’s pet). The humans look rough, but the large bird-like Screecher they’re fighting doesn’t look much better.

With the command and still standing threat holding you down, you begin to cast heals onto the fighters. The fight goes on and with your help the party manages to take down the bird.

You stand to your feet, legs shaking a bit from the Mana excursion it took to keep the group in good health. You turn from the fight, in the direction of your home, but before you can even take another step the Rouge reaches out for you.

“Ya know we’ve been needing a healer. You’re mighty useful, Priest. Might just need to keep you around for a bit.”

You shake your head side to side, no, you don’t want to join these people. You don’t know them and one of their party practically kidnapped you. “Thank you, but I really-,” you can’t finish your nervous declination.

“We weren’t asking, Priest. Make yourself useful; we’ve seen you hoard your Magic to yourself.” The Hunter sneers at you, the wolf sitting by his side, staring you down.

“Greedy bitch (and or) bastard.” One of the Warriors jeers at you. The other warrior, a tall, busty woman sneers at you and walks closer to your shaky form. She grabs the back of your neck and inspects your face. Eyes emotionless as she does so.

You stare back at her long face and she leans back from you to return and sit next to her fellow Warrior.

As you fill with dread, you remember something. Sun’s bell.

The ribbon is still in your pocket!

As inconspicuous as you can manage you slip your hand into your robe’s pocket and grab the small metal bell and as quiet as you can shake it a couple times.

Luckily none of your captor seem to have realized you did anything. They’re sitting around the corpse of their kill, some holding pieces of bread or bottles of water. They chat mildly like they aren’t in the middle of kidnapping a healer.

You aren’t sure how the bell in your pocket works or how soon Sun or Moon will get to you, but God you hope it’s soon.

It’s been almost a month with no call from you, no summon, no nothing. A few times Sun felt the bell with you jingle, but he always deflates when he realizes that it wasn’t a call, merely a jostle from you. Moon can’t feel the bell, but his chest aches for a call from the strange human healer.

Sun shoots up from his bed and Moon flinches back at the sudden jump.

“They called!”

Moon quickly gets to his feet, and stares at Sun.

“For real?”

“For real.” Sun’s permanent smile seems even brighter if possible.

“Lead the way, lead the way,” Moon urges quickly.

The duo make their way into the forest, heading in the direction they had found you last, at least that’s where they assumed they were going. About a quarter mile from the place you had met Sun stops. He tilts his head to the side, sensing where his bell is. Moon hesitates.

Nevertheless they head where the bell called from, slowing as they approach a group of humans. They know you’re there, but can’t recognize the other people with you. You’re shifting uncomfortably as an outcast from the group.

Sun and Moon felt a surge of wariness. Not at you, never at you, but these other humans… they seemed mean. You didn’t look like you wanted to be there, surely that’s why you called for them.

A bit hurt that you would only call in a time of dire need, a bit happy that you felt they could help you. Sun walks broad into the clearing as Moon slips away to get to you.

Sun bursts into the clearing where you stood, turning to face the humans with a snarl. Relief floods you as you realize he came. A hand on your shoulder makes you flinch and you turn to see Moon. He’s staring down at you, eyes emanating a soft red. He scans your form checking for any injuries. His gloved hand reaches to your neck.

The knife must’ve bruised you, you thought mildly as you get lost in letting Moon check you over for injuries. The sound of Sun fighting in the background isn’t on your mind as Moon rubs his thin fingers over your marks. To check on you, he has to crouch to reach your height, and it’s a bit embarrassing.

Too soon for your taste Moon pulls away to join the fight. You don’t seem to mind the humans destruction.

The whole group is yelling at you, shouting curses, and other foul things, telling you to heal them. Your mana is pretty low, but you weren’t going to help them in any way.

Sun and Moon are holding up well against the humans, which is good. You take the time to sit and try to regain what Magic strength you can.

After about five minutes you split-cast a Rejuvenation spell on Sun and Moon. From there their movements get stronger, and the fight quickly ends.

They’re dirty, the both of them, covered in blotches of blood, but they’re grinning at you so joyously. Like dogs expecting praise from a master.

You’re still cross legged on the ground and you have to look up to meet their eyes. Sun and Moon are ungodly large, at least nine feet tall. Sun is swaying in his place and he’s breathing heavily as he stares right at you.

“Did we do good to you, little healer?” Sun prompted.

You gaze up at them with mild disbelief, but you manage to respond. “Thank— Thank you for coming for me.”

“Oh, we’ve been dying to see you again!” Sun responded, dropping down into a crouch so he was at about half his height, still a foot larger than you. His hand, still with some tiny splotches of blood on it, reaches out to cup your face. He’s staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

After a moment of just letting your face be held, Moon drops down to your level as well.

“You’ll come with us for tonight, right? We’ve missed you so.” Moon speaks up. His voice is at the meekest you’ve heard from him.

You bite your lip, in thought. They saved you, spared you. Yet you know nothing of these two. They ate people. Their level wasn’t known to you, and they showed such strength in battle. They’re kind to you.

“Okay.”

They both brighten immediately. Sun and Moon each move to grasp one of your arms and assist you to your feet. You’re grateful for the help, still weak from lack of Mana.

They help you through the depths of the forest, reassuring your safety. It gets darker and darker as you travel. You’ve never been this far away from home nor so deep into danger. Without Sun and Moon you’d be dead meat. Mild fright grips your heart as you’re gently led through the dark.

At some point a Wild Thorn Beast attempts to attack you and your friends (maybe allies, what were you to them?). Sun and Moon growl at the beast and their grips on your upper arms tighten, not looking to start another fight. When the Thorn Beast realizes you won’t make an easy meal, it quickly scampers off.

Your heart is still thumping wildly in your chest from that encounter.

Sun and Moon reside in a large treehouse, small star shaped bots line the way up to the front door like decorative lights. You’re passed back and forth between Sun and Moon as they climb their way up to the entrance.

The inside of their hovel is dim, and slightly dirty, but better than most monsters have.

“I’m sure it’s not as nice as your home, but I hope it’ll be enough for now.” Sun spoke sheepishly.

“Thank you, for a lot of things,” you spoke quietly. “This is quite wild from my point of view. I don’t quite understand what’s going on.”

Moon grabs your hand and leads you over to one of the two discolored mattresses on the floor. Both him and you sit down on the soft, limp thing.

“You helped us, and that is… rare. Never have we met a human quite like you. For your help we wish to thank you, and you’re one of a kind. We don’t wish to lose you.”

Sun sat across from you on the other mattress. “Besides, you’re such a lovely little human, and the others out there don’t seem to appreciate that.”

“You don’t have to heal us if you don’t wish to,” Moon added. “However I do hope you stay in contact with us.”

“But why not just get rid of me? I'm at such a low level compared to you two.”

Moon and Sun shifted uncomfortably at that suggestion. “That means nothing to us, your level. And I wouldn’t dream of hurting you when you’ve helped us so.” Sun counters you quickly.

From beside you, you can sense Moon’s own Mana at work and when you look over you can see he’s revealed all of his stats to you. Health, Mana, Level, and Energy. His Health is about ninety percent full, along with his Mana. His Energy is about three quarters of the way full, and his Level you can’t even decipher.

When anyone or anything’s Level is over ten levels higher than you own, you can’t figure out what it is, and in place of a number simply a skull lies.

“I can’t read your Level, Moon.” You’re shy to say it, but his hand simply comes to lay on your shoulder.

“I figured as much, it’s a fifty.” Moon is as quiet as you.

Oh, that’s… high.

“But that’s good, right, little healer? We can defend you against any beast in the forest.” Sun’s face twists one-twenty degrees as he asks.

“You’re protecting me.” Spoken like a question, but a statement. Fact.

You’re in a bit of a trancelike shock. The rest of the night, you’re treated with care and soft hands. Cuddled up in Moon’s arms like a rag doll, you fall asleep.

The adventures of tomorrow are unknown, yet you know you’re going to be just fine with Sun and Moon on your side.

#fnaf sun #fnaf moon #moon x reader #sun x reader #dca x reader #dca au #daycare attendant x reader #fnaf au #rpg au #verified hyperfixat post #sundrop x reader #moondrop x reader #sun x y/n #moon x y/n

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scorpiongrassfield · 8 months

Text

Theo asks you to walk with him

Start | Prev | Content warning for transpobia and major character death

“Of course,” you agree.

He smiles again, still hollow.

He walks to the front door, and you follow. Pat hesitates, trying to stand without disturbing Concrete.

It doesn’t work. The cat skitters off their lap and off into the kitchen.

Lap free, Pat follows you and Theo out of the house.

Theo leads you out into the woods in a familiar direction.

Once you realize where you’re headed, you drop back to whisper to Pat: “Is it safe for him to go there? He won’t… you know…”

Pat shrugs. “I don't think we could stop him.”

They've got a point. Theo seems... kind of determined.

“It… looks like summer here,” Theo marvels.

“It’s been summer for a while,” Pat reminds him.

“Oh. It was spring last time…” Theo says, surprised as he surveys the verdant greenery around him.

“Summer is almost over, now,” Pat says, a gentle sorrow in their tone.

“So it would seem…” Theo says with a sigh. “I won’t see another winter, will I?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, continuing towards the creek like it’s magnetized.

It’s a little difficult for you and Pat to follow him, as he is unhindered by any of the obstacles in his path, while the two of you have to avoid tripping on tree roots and snagging on bushes.

Eventually you get there, though.

Theo is standing on a flat rock, looking into the stream.

“It was an accident, wasn’t it?”

“We weren’t there, Theo. We have no way to answer that. Do you think it was an accident?” Pat asks. They keep their tone soft and low, like they’re trying not to spook a startled animal any further.

“It… had to have been. She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t leave me like that if she knew,” Theo says, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Do you remember what happened that night?” Pat asks.

“I don’t want to,” Theo says, shaking his head.

“Why?” you ask.

“I don’t. I can’t,” he says, shaking his head again. His voice sounds rough. You think he’s holding back tears.

You move to stand next to him. “It’s okay, Theo,” you soothe. You put a hand on his arm, a comforting gesture.

It was a mistake.

Your vision whites out for a moment, and when your sight returns, you are no longer standing next to Theo.

“Where are you going?” A girl asks.

“Somewhere calm. I think it might help,” you say. It’s not your voice. It’s Theo’s.

“I don’t need to calm down, I need mom and dad off my case,” the girl complains, crossing her arms.

“Ah. I will just… go by myself then,” you-as-Theo replies. He continues walking into the woods. A similar walk to the one you just took.

“Hey! We’re not done talking!,” the girl says, chasing after Theo.

“Okay. We can talk as we walk. You said you’re having trouble with Mother again?” Theo says evenly.

“No shit. She’s so annoying. There are more options for me than just going to school or becoming a house wife, for fuck’s sake,” she complains.

“I thought you wanted to go to college?” Theo asks.

“Not for business. That stuff is so boring. And it’s not like I need to go to school to learn how to sing. I already know how!” She whines.

“It wouldn’t hurt to learn a little more though, would it?” Theo says, tilting his head to the side.

“Ugh, you’re so dumb. Of course you don’t get it,” the girl huffs.

The two of you reach the creek. Theo stands on the flat rock and looks out into the water.

“This is what you wanted me to see?” the girl asks, indignant.

“It’s nice. I find it… calming. And beautiful,”Theo says with a shrug.

“Yeah yeah it’s very nice. It’s stupid to come out here when it’s getting dark though,” she says.

“I know the way back. And we have flashlights. I just thought…” he pauses, unsure of what to say.

“You should really stop trying to do that, Dot. It doesn’t suit you,” the girl snaps. She kicks a few loose rocks into the water.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” is all Theo says.

The sound of the creek fills in the silence.

“So. You’re having trouble. Did you come here to ask for advice? Or just… complain?” Theo asks. The question is genuine.

“I don’t need your advice, I already have a solution,” the girl says.

“Oh?”

“If you come home…” she starts in an expectant tone.

“Ah. I’m sorry. You know I can’t do that,” Theo says, cutting her off.

The girl rolls her eyes hard. “Ugh, don’t say that. It would be so easy for you to come home and you know it.”

Theo rubs at the back of his neck, seeming uncomfortable. “It really wouldn’t.”

“Yes it would,” the girl says, throwing her arms out in frustration. “All you have to do is stop pretending to be a boy and apologize for your little college stunt, and I’m sure they’d be happy to let you come back,” she says, like Theo is the dumbest person in the world for not understanding.

You want to wince, but Theo doesn’t. He just… droops. Not surprised, just sad.

“I don’t… I can’t,” he says, his voice soft.

“I don’t even know why you insist on doing all this anyway. It’s not doing you any favors. You have no friends, your family hates you, you have no dating prospects… you’re practically a crazy cat lady already, and you’re not even 30!” she says, her voice rising as she picks up steam.

Theo closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“That all may be true, but… I want to live as myself. I don’t want to be what other people decide for me. I think. I think you should be able to understand that,” he says. There’s a bit of an edge to his voice. Like a fire waking up from the embers.

“Oh that’s rich. It’s so not the same thing as me wanting to be a singer. I’m good at being a singer. You can barely pass for a boy,” she laughs.

“Courtney. If you’re going to insult me, I’m going to ask you to leave,” he says, sharper.

“Oh no,” she says, mocking, “You’re going to ask me to leave, that’s so scary.” She laughs again. “Why don’t you make me, since you’re such a big strong boy,” she says, shoving at Theo. The rock is slick with water, but he manages to stay upright.

“No, Courtney. I shouldn’t need to use force to get what I want. I don’t need to hurt people to be listened to. Unlike you,” he says. It’s the most unkind thing you’ve heard him say. But you aren’t sure you disagree with him.

Courtney’s laugh turns ugly. “You’re such a bitch,” she curses.

“No, I don’t think I am. I think it’s very reasonable for me to be upset when someone I care about is unkind to me,” he says, his voice rising in volume as he goes on, “You on the other hand, invited yourself to my home with the express purpose of being cruel to me, insulting me, and asking me to give up my life so that you can go have fun chasing your dreams.” He stands taller, and takes a step closer to her. “I think that you are being an incredibly rude brat, and I think that I want you to leave and not come back until you’ve realized you can’t always treat me like dirt, okay, Courtney?” he says, almost shouting by the end.

Courney seethes. “Oh fuck you Dorothy. I was doing you a favor but it looks like you don’t deserve my help. Die alone for all I fucking care,” she says, shoving Theo as hard as she can. The rocks are slick, he loses his footing and falls, his head hitting a rock hard.

Theo is face down in the creek, unconscious and drowning.

Courtney has already run off. She didn’t look back once.

Theo may be unconscious, but you are not. The sensation of drowning is familiar to you by now.

“Okay, are you two going to stare off into space like that all day, or…” Pat shouts, and you’re pulled back into the present.

You’re standing next to Theo with a hand on his arm.

Pat is looking between you and Theo, trying to figure out what’s going on.

Theo is blinking back tears. “I… I just said I didn’t want to. Why did you do that?” he half-sobs.

You pull your hand away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize- I had no idea that would happen,” you apologize. You were just trying to help him.

“I’m missing something. What happened?” Pat asks.

“I think I made him remember how he died. All of it,” you say.

Pat winces.

Theo is still crying. “She was right. I did die alone,” he whispers.

You rack your brain trying to figure out how to salvage this.

“You aren’t alone now,” you say.

He just looks at you.

“It’s true. You might be dead, but you aren’t alone. We’re friends, aren’t we? And you have the people at the diner, they’d care they knew you were dead. And Concrete still loves you just the same as a ghost,” you say, grasping at straws.

Theo sniffles. “I… I suppose that’s true,” he says.

“You’re a good kid, Theo. We’re sorry this happened to you,” Pat adds in.

Theo is still crying, but it seems like he’s winding down.

“I… I’m not sure why I wanted to come out here. It just seemed… right…” he says.

“It happens. Ghosts that remember how they died are typically drawn to the place,” Pat explains.

“Oh. I really am dead... I. I don’t want to be dead,” he says.

“We all gotta go sometime, though,” Pat says.

#choose your own adventure #interactive fiction #writeblr #original writing

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ofwrxth · 8 months

Text

+ ISLA / THE BAR

Elliot exhales as he sets down another beam inside the bar, going back to his repair task. It's been several weeks since the run to Nelson and even more since his and Hunter's run to Cache Creek. There've been half a dozen runs since then, and hundreds before, all fruitless. They all leave Elliot with empty hands and a hollow heart. But he keeps on because if he stops, he knows he'll shatter. Already held together by the thinnest of threads, he wakes up each morning feeling like Atlas. The world settles on his shoulders as his last bit of hope seems to sustain him enough to see each day through to its end. Even as he does shifts that keep him in town, that take him away from his search, he gets through them. And when there are days he's certain that small flame has gone out altogether, his family fights to keep it burning. To keep him going. It's why he can be here now, helping his brothers with the bar, focusing on the moments when things don't feel so heavy.

The repairs had started a few weeks back, but they'd been unable to complete it with other needs in town. Elliot recalls Wolf's words about how fast the town is growing, how many homes need building. He might've felt regret before for how the supplies are being used now, but he can't bring himself to feel remorse. Not really. Not when the fight had let him feel something other than his own despair. The pain of each blow, the satisfaction of doling out his own – it had all blocked the ache in his chest. "Who's call d'ya think it was to separate our repair shift from theirs?" Elliot asks aloud, jerking his chin in the direction of the west side and the vampires who resided there. He wipes his brow with a rag and continues to help repair the beam his head and Wolf's body had nearly bulldozed.

Working alongside his brothers is a good distraction, even if he'd rather be out searching. The only thing Elliot found on his last run that week was disappointment. So this work becomes a solace of sorts: actually accomplishing something helps him feel sane. Elliot hears his brothers talking around him as he hammers away, but his mind is somewhere else. H's running over routes and turning over maps in his head, thinking of the next run, the next search, the next stop. Nail. Hammer. Town. Nail. Hammer. Facility. Nail. Hammer. Another map. Nail. Hammer. Elliot. Nail. Hammer. Town. Nail. Elliot. Hammer. Elliot! He freezes, hammer hovering over a nail and he looks around for a beat, at his brothers working, at the beam before him. At the hammer in his hand. He waits for a beat. And then another before he takes another nail from between his teeth, going to hammer again. Nail. Elliot! Elliot drops the nails and hammer in a clatter to the sawdust covered floor. Before he can think, his feet are already moving and he's tearing out of the bar. He'd know her voice anywhere.

#elliot.#aaaaaaaaaahhhhh #bros can cameo and tbh anyone else we dont care #elliot x isla 001.#elliot x cross brothers 002.

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kendsleyauthor · 1 year

Text

Eleven Hours: Part Three

Dark Future AU (Shot in the Dark)

~4800 words

Warnings: Mentions of violence and dehumanization

Summary: With food and water running short, it quickly becomes clear that Cliff and Oliver’s journey will not be an easy one. As things turn desperate, Oliver struggles to keep painful memories at bay.

Co-written by the lovely @marydublinauthor 🌸

🌿 Eleven Hours Masterpost 🌿

It was strange, the feeling of toddling security. He was with Cliff Everett. He had made it out. They just had to walk out of these woods.

Eleven hours. To think it had only been a few minutes.

It took a while to get comfortable in Cliff’s grasp. While he appreciated not being stuffed into a bag or clutched in a fist, Cliff’s urgent stride was jostling. Oliver was thrown forward every time the human climbed a sharp incline in the path, and his entire body lifted up if Cliff landed indelicately.

Eventually, he figured out that molding against the base of Cliff’s fingers with one arm slung around the middle and ring fingers was the stablest way to ride. After that, it was immensely more tolerable.

His heart rate began to slow, allowing him to look around without a lens of utter panic clouding his senses. It was a relief to see the forest from anything but the ground level. He watched the length of each of Cliff’s steps and wondered how long it would’ve taken him to cover the same distance. Stones that would have been mountains to a fairy, impossible to climb, Cliff avoided with scarcely a glance down.

The math made him queasy.

Cliff seemed to have a sense of what direction to head in, though he paused every so often to consult a digital compass. The terrain was beautiful but treacherous. The earth was steeply sloped on the side facing the mountain, packed with rocks. Delicate moss cascaded many stones, catching moonlight in gaps between dense fir branches. Ferns sprouted like each plant was competing with the others to be the most extravagant. Bullfrogs sang—and again, Oliver was immensely grateful to be off the ground.

Cliff had just crossed a muddy creek when Oliver’s stomach ached, hollow again. He patted Cliff’s hand and twisted around.

“Do you have any more food?”

Cliff nodded, breathless from the hike, and found a dry place to sit and remove his pack. He set Oliver down next to him. After all that time pressed to a hot palm, the cold stone was a relief.

Oliver made a noise of appreciation as Cliff handed him another fairy-sized bag of food. Nearly ripping it in his haste to open it, Oliver dug in while Cliff pulled out a couple of protein bars for himself.

While they ate in silence for a few minutes, Oliver glanced up every so often to see Cliff surveying the environment around them carefully. There was something distinctly unnerving about the intensity of the human’s stare, and Oliver was glad to not have it pointed at him. Still, Cliff’s ever-present tension had him worried.

“You don’t think another crew could catch up to us this fast, do you?” Oliver asked.

“Doubt it. They wouldn’t be able to bring trucks this far in. As long as we keep moving, they won’t have much of a chance tailing us.” He nodded at the surrounding woods. “I’ve just been in enough places like this to know that humans aren’t the only things to worry about.”

Oliver scoffed into his bite of bread. After what he’d been through, the thought of any creature so much as bothering Cliff was laughable.

“I think it’s safe to say you’re the scariest thing for miles,” Oliver said. “You can relax.”

Cliff chuckled, but his eyes looked less than amused. “How long were you at the menagerie?”

The question caught Oliver off guard. He stared up at the sky in thought. “I didn’t have a great view of the moon to keep track of the cycles, but… With the cold nearly killing me a few hours ago, I’d say almost a year. It was dead winter when I was taken.”

“Did you live in woods like these?”

“It was a little flatter. More water. Less bullets.”

The mere mention seemed to make Cliff roll his shoulder from the pain of his wound. “Any chance you know the name of the area you’re from? The state, even?”

Your killer in shining armor is looking for another option to get rid of you, Oliver’s sister scoffed.

Oliver willed her voice away. “It doesn’t matter,” he said matter-of-factly. “My village doesn’t exist anymore.”

Cliff didn’t look shocked in the slightest, but he did murmur an apology.

To distract himself, Oliver dug back into the food. Cliff handed him water and said, “You should slow down. I didn’t bring much. The plan was to tide everyone over for the trip. A quick snack before you could have a real meal once we got there.”

Oliver slowed, jolted by a sting of guilt and frustration. If things had gone right, if Grady hadn’t sold them out, maybe he and the other fairies would be in the passenger seat of Cliff’s car right now. They’d be on their way toward the safe house, eating together and asking so many questions that Cliff’s ears would ring. Or maybe they would have arrived by now and would have been feasting on a hot meal.

Movement flickered in the corner of Oliver’s eye, but he didn’t flinch or even look. He wasn’t surprised when he heard his brother’s voice. Are you going to finish that?

“Fuck off,” Oliver huffed.

“Huh?” Cliff said.

“Nothing,” Oliver said immediately. He thought about the strange looks he always got when he tried to explain his siblings’ lingering voices. Things were fragile enough without Cliff thinking he was out of his mind. He plastered on a smile and looked up. “I mean fuck off, for telling me to slow down and then making me think about an actual meal.”

To his relief, Cliff had a sense of humor. “You this much of a sweetheart all the time?”

“Yeah, mostly.”

Cliff laughed. With the last bite of the bar tucked in his cheek, he balled up the wrappers and stuffed them into his jeans pocket.

“There used to be villages out here,” Cliff told him. “Three of them in this range. One of them used to be right at that peak, there.” He pointed at a dark spot on one of the distant hills.

They watched it for a moment, as though tiny lights might spring back to life in the patch of trees.

“Did you know them well?” Oliver asked.

“Not really. It was a long time ago.”

Cliff contemplated the view stretched out before them, and Oliver followed suit. The wide creek ran along a course on a flat, rocky inset. Branches, wild grass, and fallen logs scattered the hills, creating a smattering of texture and color. Their seat was on the slope, shrouded by firs and trees with barren branches. The water ran towards more mountains that cut against the starry sky.

Treacherous, but beautiful.

Oliver’s arms ached from gripping Cliff’s fingers for so long. Even with his new clothes, the cold made his wings stiff along his back. An itching thirst plagued him too—made worse with the knowledge that his supply was limited. Cliff only had one more portion for each of them, and they weren’t even halfway there.

He was tempted at one point to ask Cliff to shuffle him back into the empty holster to catch some sleep during the arduous walk. But that didn’t really feel fair to his companion, who arguably was doing most of the work.

The long stretches of silence were broken by idle conversation. Oliver picked his questions carefully. He was surprised to learn that Cliff had once come from a wealthy family—not birthed from a long line of mercenaries as Oliver had assumed. He didn’t talk to any of them now but his younger sister, Anna.

“How old is she?” Oliver asked.

“Twenty-four.”

“Does she do what you do?”

Cliff’s jaw ticked. “Sometimes.”

“Can you possibly answer in more than one-syllable grunts?”

“Maybe.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, catching Cliff smirking at his expense overhead.

“What about you?” Cliff asked. “Any siblings back home? A creepy uncle?”

His chest tightened. “Sure.”

“Who’s giving the one-syllable grunts now?”

“I mean, yeah, everyone’s got family at one point or another, right? For all you know, I am the creepy uncle.”

Though Cliff chuckled, the beat of silence that followed was heavy. He cleared his throat and asked in a softer voice, “Were any of them in the menagerie with you?”

Of all things, a laugh shook loose from Oliver’s tension. “Um, no. They would’ve been smart enough to get us out of there months ago. And if not, I would have got back for them tonight, or I would’ve zapped you until we went to find them.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Cliff murmured.

Oliver counted his breaths and focused on the uneven rhythm of Cliff’s gait. He desperately sought a change of subject.

When he thought to ask Cliff about the falling out with his family, instead he blurted, “There were three of us. Cyra was the oldest. Fire affinity. Total bitch. She was my best friend.” He swallowed hard, missing every deserved and undeserved lash of flame she’d hit him with. “Then I came along with my lightning. And my parents were nervous about what kind of chaos Hudson would bring when his magic developed.”

“What’d he end up with?”

“Healing.”

Cliff’s hand tensed. Oliver felt it especially in his fingers. Like he wanted to curl his hand into a fist, but was kind enough to refrain, given his passenger. Cliff must have known, then, that a healer was the worst thing to be in this human-dominated reality.

“Is Anna safe?” Oliver asked after another beat.

“I do everything I can to make sure she is,” Cliff said, his hand relaxing somewhat.

“Good. That’s good.”

An owl hooted in the darkness, shattering whatever peace that had managed to gather. Oliver’s breath caught, while Cliff’s hand flinched—and this time, it wasn’t a mere twitch. His fingers curled and gathered Oliver closer, while his other hand shielded him overhead. Oliver instinctively squirmed, flashing back to every time he had been snatched up against his will.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of owls,” Oliver said as he recovered from the shock of the sudden movement. He pushed pointedly against two of Cliff’s fingers. “Because I don’t think things’ll end well if I’m the one that has to scare it off.”

Cliff exhaled a scoff. “You can stay put. I just… Sorry. Force of habit.” He pulled his other hand away. “Had a friend that would lose her shit if she heard an owl, even miles off. She wouldn’t let me take another step unless I covered her.”

“Smart.” Oliver didn’t comment on the strange, controlled tone that Cliff took at the mention of this friend. Seeing as Cliff hadn’t pried further about Cyra and Hudson, Oliver returned the favor. “I know you’re out of bullets, but you didn’t happen to bring a gun to throw at it, just in case?”

“I always have a backup.” There was something just as chilling as it was comforting about the smile he sent down. “You wouldn’t know it, but I used to be a real sharp-shooter. One of the best.”

“You seem decent enough,” Oliver said, recalling the bodies strewn in Cliff’s wake.

The human shook his head, brow furrowing deeply. “No. I used to be able to pierce the center of a falling leaf from thirty yards away. That’s gone now, too.”

A faint tremor entered his hands, making Oliver falter. He grieved it like the skill had a soul of its own. “I don’t mean to be insensitive,” he called up. “Like I’m sorry and all, but that also sounds fucking scary and I’m kinda glad I don’t have to see it. Don’t hate me.”

He was worried he’d struck a cord again, but Cliff just laughed. “You’re brutal, you know that?”

Oliver decided he looked far less scary when he smiled like that.

Conversation dwindled to only necessary, clipped exchanges. Pausing for water, or a piss break. Explaining a shortcut through a canyon. Realizing they were out of food.

It was four hours later when Oliver suddenly noticed that they were moving much slower. Cliff was exhausted. Craning his neck, Oliver felt another pang of guilt and embarrassment sweep over him. He found himself wishing Cliff was fairy-sized, so he could return the favor and carry him for a time.

You wouldn’t make it two feet with the state of your back right now anyway, dummy.

The last half hour was almost entirely uphill on rocky terrain. Finding a dry area, Cliff stopped for water. His bottle was nearly empty—he’d been taking these ridiculous, tiny sips all night. He downed the last of it and shoved the empty bottle into his pack. He looked so tired, Oliver couldn’t help but shoot to his feet.

“Hey, have mine. I have two left.” Oliver thrust one of the fairy-sized jugs of water out. Cliff shook his head. “I mean it. Not really helpful if you pass out.”

Cliff pushed it back with a fingertip. “It’ll last you longer than it will me. I’ll be fine.”

“What about the creek? Moving water should be safe.”

Cliff looked around, listening to the sound of rushing water. “It’ll take us a little off-course,” he said, but he was already moving to investigate.

A little was an understatement. But then again, Cliff covered far more distance than Oliver could dream of, and if they wanted to ensure they survived the journey at all, the detour was necessary. Still, Cliff’s long strides were competing with the sound of his labored breathing—something he couldn’t hide while Oliver was held so close to his chest.

“How’s your arm feeling?” Oliver asked.

“Still attached. How about your wings?”

“Hm. They’ve gone from feeling like they’re quickly disintegrating to slowly disintegrating. I’ll take it as a good sign.”

“Sounds like you won’t be needing me soon.”

When they reached the creek, the faintest touch of gray was spilling through the night sky. The dark waters looked less treacherous now that Oliver had a giant with him, but he was appreciative when Cliff set him down on some rocks a safe distance from the rush. Relief was evident in Cliff’s broad shoulders as he pulled out his water bottle and stepped toward the creek.

While Oliver stretched his legs and peered around, a glint caught his eye further down—something that wasn’t rippling like the water.

He might have written off the strange feeling it gave him, if not for the weird smell in the air. Fanning his wings, he took flight. The soreness made him wince, but he took it slow as he wandered a little further upstream.

Oliver wrinkled his nose, then gasped and pulled to a hover when he spotted the source of the stench.

“Oh, ew,” he moaned.

Dawn light reflected off the eye of a deer corpse, which was laying halfway across the creek, bloated and rotting. He stared for another beat, watching the way the water passed through and around the carcass. Then he jolted.

“Cliff!” Oliver croaked. He wheeled around and zipped back the way he came.

The human was lifting the water bottle to his mouth, oblivious to the sound of Oliver’s calls over the sound of the creek. Pushing past the protests of his wings, Oliver closed the distance, putting himself between Cliff’s mouth and the rim of the bottle.

“Don’t!” Oliver shouted.

In his agitation, sparks flew from his hands—some of which jolted Cliff’s lower face. Cliff reeled back and dropped the bottle into the mud, rubbing his cheek where the sparks had hit.

“What the fuck, man?” Cliff boomed, looking at Oliver like he’d lost his mind.

Oliver struggled to right himself in midair from Cliff’s recoil. “C-contaminated,” he wheezed. His flight swung haphazardly left to right in front of the human’s chest. Avoiding an embarrassing sink to the ground, Oliver landed on the branch of a hearty bush and let his wings sag, his lungs burning. “There’s a-a dead deer upstream. The water—it’ll poison you.”

Cliff stared in shock. He looked for himself, seeming to notice the dark mass when his spine stiffened.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “Thank you.” There was something so defeated and pitiful in his voice. His green eyes drifted to the crystalline, rushing water. Mocking them.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said.

Cliff shrugged, rubbing dirt off his hand before offering his open palm. “Better dehydrated than dead.”

They made it another hour and a half before Cliff had to stop again. This time, he selected a covered space within the steep incline.

“Are you okay?” Oliver asked. Seeing his giant savior so ragged panged him with fresh anxiety. If Cliff died out here, he wouldn’t know where to go. He may as well lie down and die with him.

“We need to rest for a while. It’s still a long way,” Cliff said.

It was little more than a narrow cave, scarcely large enough to fit three adult humans side by side, crouched down. After ensuring there were no poisoning insects or animals nesting inside, Cliff removed his pack and settled on the ground.

“The sun’s coming up soon. It’ll warm up,” Oliver commented, mostly just to have something to say while watching Cliff close his bloodshot eyes and tip his head back against the wall like he could sleep for days.

“Yeah,” Cliff answered. “In a few hours. Sunlight will make it easier to find the route. But it’ll dehydrate us faster.”

“Hm.” Oliver looked out towards the woods: dark and ominously silent. “You’re sure we’re not being followed, right?”

“They got what they wanted for now,” Cliff grunted. “You’re safe.”

Oliver swallowed—no matter how much he swallowed, it didn’t patch his dry throat. The cold wind funneling through only heightened the scratchy sensation. He ran his tongue around his cheeks to try to trick his body into believing he was supplying it with sustenance and swallowed again, anyway.

“You can sleep, you know.” Cliff’s hand rooted to his bent knee.

Oliver shook his head, pulling his knees to his chest. “Not yet.”

Even in his exhaustion, Cliff had the energy to look exasperated with him. “What are you waiting for?”

“What if a fox lives in here? One of us should stay awake and keep watch.” Oliver squinted at the woods.

“You think a fox is going to maul me?”

Pursing his lips, Oliver glanced at Cliff’s height—unable to see all of it. “Okay, okay, maybe not. But still. One of us should watch, just in case anything—or anyone comes. You sleep. It’s only fair.”

Cliff groaned. “You were an exhibit in a menagerie. Fair doesn’t exist.” A frustrated, pensive look clouded his gaze. “Humans have taken enough from you, haven’t they? I’m not taking away your sleep.”

Oliver could speak for hours about what humans had taken away from him, and he was tempted to. Instead, he sighed and traced a finger along a line on Cliff’s palm. “For a human, you really seem to hate humans.”

“Only because most of them suck.”

“True. But… you don’t seem to suck. That much.”

Cliff gave a small, rumbling chuckle and fell silent for a time. After a few minutes, Oliver was certain the human would fall asleep, but his breaths remained uneven, and his eyes wouldn’t seem to close all the way as he gazed at a random spot on the earthen wall.

Just when Oliver was thinking about the hollow pang in his gut, Cliff’s stomach gave a vicious growl. The blood drained from Oliver’s face. With no regard for subtlety, he opened his wings and found a new perch closer to the opening of their shelter. He shivered from more than just the chill when he glanced over his shoulder at Cliff.

“Are you serious?” Cliff said, rolling his eyes. “What happened to me not sucking that much?”

“Hey, desperate times,” Oliver said with a shaky laugh. He pointed at Cliff sternly. “I know I look delicious, but you better not. I’ll be really pissed.”

“Scrawny thing like you? I’d be better off chewing on a handful of twigs.”

Oliver’s jaw dropped indignantly. “Well, you don’t have to be rude about it.”

“It’s just a fact, honestly.” Cliff’s smirk softened. “Hang in there a while longer. Rainie will get you feeling like a king when we make it. She probably already has a stew and some kind of fresh bread started now. As many helpings as you want.”

Cliff closed his eyes and inhaled peacefully, as though he could smell the food from here.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Oliver asked.

Another shake of the head. “She leads the kitchen staff at the safehouse. Rainie’s a five-inch angel.” Cliff smiled, a memory flickering. “She makes the most incredible boysenberry tarts.”

The safehouse. “Wait. You’ll let me stay?” Oliver blurted, eyes wet.

Cliff gave him a soulful look in the darkness—scarcely enough light creeping into the cave to illuminate the fond glimmer that entered his eyes. “There’s a space for you as long as you want it.”

Maybe it was the dehydration or the crippling exhaustion, or the fact that he’d had to kill a man with his bare hands, but Oliver buried a sob into his hands.

“What changed your mind?” Oliver asked.

“I figure, if you had a trick up your sleeve, you’d have shown your hand before being fucking miserable in a cave in the middle of nowhere.” Cliff paused in thought before adding, “I told you, you’re different from a lot of fairies. I'm not used to your folk wanting to be anywhere near me. Even most of the safehouse residents keep me at arm’s length. And here you are, practically jumping into my hands. You’ll forgive me for being cautious.”

Oliver moistened his lips and looked at Cliff—really looked. From this perch, he could finally see all of him. “I think you’re bullshitting a little. The safehouse must be head over heels for you. You’re like, a hero.”

Cliff smiled sadly. “I’m a human.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

“Oliver… You’re just saying that so I won’t eat you.”

“Shut up.” Oliver choked on his laugh and blinked back more tears. “T-Thank you.”

Another silence settled, far more content than the last. For a short, blissful time, Oliver didn’t think about how empty his stomach was or how sore his wings were. But before long, it became impossible to ignore the cold. The sun’s warmth wasn’t moving fast enough, and it didn’t seem to be in a hurry to reach beneath the overcast sky.

Gravel and dirt shifted as Cliff adjusted himself. Oliver figured he was trying to find a more comfortable position, but then Cliff murmured, “Hey.”

Oliver turned and found a palm offered beside him.

“Can I pick you up?” Cliff asked.

“Why?”

“Your lips are turning blue. I’m gonna hold you by my neck for a while.” When Oliver hesitated, Cliff raised his eyebrows, goading. “C’mon, your goal is to get to the safehouse alive, right? You’re not gonna last long in this chill.”

Already feeling the familiar heat radiating from Cliff’s hand, Oliver was in no position to turn him down. He crawled aboard, breath catching as Cliff immediately lifted him higher. He worried for his wings—the last thing he needed was to have them smushed in a tight clutch. As Cliff cupped the hand by his neck, Oliver found himself in a snug—but not uncomfortable—hold.

At least, it wasn’t meant to be uncomfortable. Cliff seemed perfectly at ease handling a body the size of his finger, but Oliver was stiff and awkward as he tried to adjust himself.

“Relax,” Cliff told him. “Feels like you’re getting ready to strike.”

Oliver didn’t think it was possible for Cliff’s voice to have even more reverberation than before, but it was pleasant instead of frightening. Focusing on the warmth around him, Oliver all but melted against Cliff’s neck. He could have fallen asleep, but the more relaxed he became, the guiltier he felt. Once again, Cliff was doing everything to keep them alive, while Oliver could do little but mooch off his exhausted assistance.

The sting spurred him to blurt, “I’m sorry. I… I’m sorry I got us noticed back there. It just—I saw Grady, and… What he did, it still hurts. Even now.”

For a moment, he thought Cliff had fallen asleep. A gusting, sympathetic sigh came out. “You wanted someone to trust. He was supposed to look out for you.”

“He started off by giving me extra food—he didn’t do that with the others. Then he started talking to me like… like I was a person. Eventually, he started letting me out of the enclosure to really stretch my wings when I promised that I wouldn’t fly off.” Oliver pursed his lips. Anger made electricity want to surge to his fingertips; sorrow doused it. He tried to laugh it off, but the sound that came out was pitiful. “I thought he liked me. But, you know? I’m starting to think he chose me because I could keep his phone charged all day.”

“Fuck that guy.” Although Cliff said it with intimidating conviction, his voice sounded pained—weaker than before.

“Fuck me,” Oliver mumbled. “I’m the reason you got shot. You’re really hurt. What if you don’t make it? I’m sor—”

“Shh.” Cliff's hand pulled back slightly. Oliver stayed huddled against his neck while warm fingertips stroked his wings. “I’m gonna make it. We’re both gonna make it, so stop apologizing.” His touch faltered. “That doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“It feels nice,” Oliver mumbled.

Does it? Cyra hissed. Does it feel nice to have another human win you over like this?

Hudson gave a disappointed sigh. Do you ever learn?

Oliver went rigid and peeked behind him, past Cliff’s fingers. He could see his siblings perched by the exit of the shelter, untouched by cold. Untouched by anything.

“What’s wrong?” Cliff said, straightening alertly.

“No, it’s… Nothing’s there. I’m just hearing things.” Oliver ran a hand against Cliff’s neck, as though he could soothe anyone so big. “I know you’re so sure we’re gonna make it, but… Still. In case we do die a horrible, slow death, I want you to know about what happened to my brother and sister. They deserve to have their story told.”

Cliff said nothing, but the way he sat back and slowed his stroking told Oliver that he was listening.

“Cyra was killed when our village was raided,” Oliver said softly. A little chuckle of admiration escaped him. “She was burning off their faces. Seriously, have you ever seen eyeballs melt? She was so cool.” His laughter faded. “A human cornered me. Cyra swooped in, badass as ever, and distracted him long enough for me to escape. But th-then… while she looked away for one moment to make sure I was safe, she was grabbed. I don’t think the human could even see anymore. He just… crushed her. Just like that. I still remember the sound.”

Cliff stopped stroking altogether. There was hesitance to his touch, as though the memory might make Oliver have an aversion to human contact.

“Hudson and I were rounded up and separated. I didn’t have any fight left in me—not when the iron came.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I have no idea where they took him, but I know things don’t turn out well for healers—especially for ones who say ‘fuck you’ to being forced to heal. And Hudson would never agree to be used. He’s… he’s got to be dead.”

Oliver didn’t realize that tears were leaking out until drops landed on his arm. He drew in one hitched breath and broke down sobbing.

“I-I still hear them and see them,” he croaked. “All the fucking time, like that’s what I get for not fighting harder for them.”

After a pause, Cliff’s hand pressed harder against him—firm, but pleasant. It took a moment to register the motion as a hug. Cliff’s thumb brushed his muddy, matted hair as his hand adjusted around Oliver and he took a shuddering breath.

“Sometimes, everything you have in you isn’t enough,” Cliff said. “That’s the worst fucking thing, but it’s not your fault. I bet they know that.”

Oliver’s eyes drifted toward movement at the entrance of the cave. He could see his brother and sister hovering there again. They looked at him, Their faces were soft, sympathetic, almost pitying as though they could feel his grief just as poignantly.

“Yeah, maybe,” Oliver mumbled.

The heat of Cliff’s body had warmed him sufficiently. No longer shivering, he let his breaths become steady. The deep, gusting breaths of the giant beneath him slowed to match.

As the first golden specks of sunlight filtered in, Oliver closed his eyes.

((Author’s note: We hope you enjoyed the penultimate chapter! Cliff and Oliver trauma-bonding is what keeps me going <3))

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madeofcc · 1 year

Photo

CHAPTER 7 : Welcome (back) (part ¾) / Then part 1

Main page/ Previous / Next

[TRANSCRIPT]

2008 – The Behr arrive at Hollow Creek

CAN : This is worst than I imagined …

MISA : Come on Candace, you know it's only for few months

CAN : As usual …

ANTON : I thought you wanted to travel around the world baby girl !

CAN : Not if that means having no friends …

MIS : Come on, you're not alone

YUKI : Hum … Excuse me ?! I'm your friend !

CAN : You're my sister … Way different

YUKI : Nevermind …

ANTON : What do you think hon' ?

MISA : We're going to be very happy here

#Another Side #ASHC #Another Side Hollow Creek #ASHC CHAP 7 #ts4 story #sims4 story #simblreen story #enjoy #next chapter is the last of ep 1

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dankusner · 1 month

Text

Starck contrast

The year was 1984.

A rich kid from Preston Hollow created a Studio 54 for the landlocked on a dicey stretch of McKinney Avenue.

The stories were legendary: People had sex in the bathroom. They did ecstasy, which was legal, and cocaine, which was not. The place was designed by Philippe Starck, aFrench architect who’d given his name to cool chairs that were wildly uncomfortable (the place had a few).

Stevie Nicks was part owner, though people rarely saw her during the club’s five-year run.

They did see Prince, Oliver Stone and Rob Lowe.

Clubgoers lined up to get inside. They wanted the scene, but they needed the music.

Punk, post-punk and new wave, spun on vinyl by real, living humans who knew more about obscure artists and B-sides than Casey Kasem could ever hope to learn.

The live shows were epic: Australian noise band SPK, New York art monster Grace Jones, the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Video was projected onto the walls, because avirtual dreamworld still felt like a novelty.

Nobody knew screens and media would rise up like atidal wave and swallow us whole. You should have been there. And for one night only, May 12, you (sort of) can be when the Starck Club returns for a 40th anniversary party, thanks to the good folks behind the Longhorn Ballroom and the Kessler Theater, which is the far more civilized setting for this bash.

Of course, the event is already sold out, giving wannabe clubgoers the familiar experience of getting shut out ofthe best party in town.

Details: 6-11 p.m. May 12 at the Kessler Theater,1230 W. Davis St., Dallas.

Stalling for time FROM THE ARCHIVES In 1985, the now-acclaimed Texas Monthly writer Skip Hollandsworth contributed astory toThe Dallas Morning News about how men's rooms in Dallas were having amoment—avery opulent moment. He noted the upholstered walls ($70 per square yard) inside the gentlemen's lounge atCafe Pacific inHighland Park Village. He praised The Mansion on Turtle Creek's "hand-cast sink fixtures and commodes with comfy seats."Buthewas most gobsmacked by the facilities at the city's hottest dance spot: "The newly opened Starck Club downtown may be the only nightclub in Western civilization that has gotten national attention for its bathrooms. The facilities look like a combination video game, church parlor, hair salon and somebody's idea of a great practical joke. "The mirror-encased lobbies of both themen's andwomen's rooms arecoed. Everybody sits around high-tech couches and talks and smokes cigarettes. Occasionally,someone may get up to actually use the facilities. "There is a television monitor abovethecathedral-likedoor thatleads to the stalls.Likearrival-departure screens at the airport, the monitor tells you which stall is occupied. Each stall is setoff in its own separateroom large enough to startan impromptu game of handball." Hollandsworth spoke with valet attendant Herman Babers, 60, who worked the men's lounge at another showy nightclub, Mistral, inside the then-Loews Anatole Hotel. "I always thought you were supposed to pop inand out of abathroom," Babers told him. "But these men today like to come in and brush their hair and think about things, I guess." Christopher Wynn"The facilities look like a combination videogame, church parlor, hair salon and somebody's idea of a great practical joke."

For One Night Only, the Kessler Theater Turns Into the Starck Club The infamous night club in the West End opened its doors 40 years ago. The Kessler Theater is bringing it back to life, briefly. The scene at the Starck Club during its peak.

New York City had Studio 54, London had the Hippodrome, and Dallas had The Starck Club. The West End venue, named for its Parisian designer Philippe Starck, defined the nightlife scene in Dallas throughout the 80s and reveled in the excesses of the decadent decade, powered by a new and curious drug called ecstasy. DJ Mark Ridlen says there’s more to The Starck Club than meets history’s narrow eye, a cultural touchstone that meant far more than the unchecked libido of the clubgoers. “All they talk about is the drug busts, ‘Who shot J.R.?,’ and the 80s but you’ve never seen a club with such an eclectic lineup over the years whether it was a band, fashion shows, plays, performance art,” Ridlen says. “You name it. They had it.” The Kessler is bringing back The Starck Club for its 40th anniversary reunion by transforming into the venue for five hours on Sunday May 12 into a new version of the influential Dallas nightclub. Kessler Artistic Director Jeff Liles said the event sold quickly: it took less than a week to sell out. It is not dissimilar to the venue’s tribute to the long-gone Video Bar, a room that was influential in the avant-garde scene of the 1980s. “We love paying homage to the venues that made Dallas culture what it was,” Liles says. “It was happening right at the same time as the emergence of the Deep Ellum scene.” Club founder Blake Woodall opened his vision of a hip, technology-filled nightlife spot in 1984 under a Woodall Rodgers overpass near the West End in a converted warehouse space. The first official show for the club’s investors brought Grace Jones and Fleetwood Mac’s Stevie Nicks to its stage. They were the first of many celebrities to walk through its doors, early adopters before Rob Lowe and Princess Stephanie of Monaco. Talking Heads’ David Byrne dropped in while in town to film his movie True Stories. Members of the famed Brat Pack who starred in movies like The Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink spent evenings there. Prince even hosted an after party at Starck one night that went “well into the morning,” according to David Hynds, who ran the club’s video and art department with his then wife, Suzie Riddle. Word of mouth spread mostly by hairdressers to their clients helped build the club’s reputation as a fashion hot spot for the late-night partier. The Starck Club’s popularity started with some exclusivity but eventually, it wasn’t a place where you had to argue with a bouncer to convince them you were important enough to go past the velvet rope. “Initially, it seemed to have an upper-end feel to it but as time went on, we attracted a much broader range of customers,” Hynds says. “Part of the design and desire was to have a complete mix of all spectrums of people.” The space wasn’t just used for live music, dancing, and the occasional hit of what we now call Molly. The Starck Club was one giant canvas that a got a new coat of paint every evening. “We had these funky theme parties,” Ridlen says. “We would make it look like a grocery store or we would make it look like a rodeo. We’d have these fun themes with appropriate music. We’d always have video exhibits, people showing their art videos. We had events just for that.” ADVERTISEMENT

The club’s first theme party took on the psychedelic. Hynds asked Ridlen if he would create a band that fit its far-out theme. Ridlen’s band was named Lithium X-Mas and the group stayed together long after the club’s closing. “It was only meant to be a one-time deal but a few months down the road, they decided they would carry it forward under that name,” Hynds says. The Starck Club served as a kind of zeitgeist thermometer for its time that reflected changing trends and new sounds. “It was the beginning of the DJ culture in Dallas,” Liles says. The events on the club’s calendar weren’t just concerts. The Starck Club would host fashion shows, plays, and all kinds of performance art. “It was a hotbed of all kinds of just really cool activities under one roof,” Ridlen says. “You would come and see that and then, of course, stick around the music.” No ideas was too off the wall for the Starck Club. Hynds had everyone on the staff pitch ideas for shows, theme nights, and artistic expressions. “One of the things we did was a furniture fashion show,” Hynds says. “It had the basic design of a fashion show instead of clothing, we had people dressed as furniture movers bringing up furniture. Me and Suzie and [Greg Snyodis] from Lithium X-Mas had the idea of doing a band but instead of audio or music, it was visual. Instead of musical instruments, we used visual instruments.” So no recreation of the Starck Club would be complete without a reconstruction of its eclectic style. Camron Ware, the owner and founder of Lightware Labs who provided the visual tech for The Kessler’s recreation of the Video Bar, will work with Hines to turn the Kessler into a visual recreation of the Starck Club. “It’s going to feel like it’s all really immersive when you come in,” Liles says. “There’s going to be a red carpet and everything. We’re really gonna trick out The Kessler that night.” The Kessler turns into the Starck Club for one night only, from 6 p.m. to 11 p.m. on May 12. Tickets are sold out, but keep your eye on this page. 1230 W. Davis St.

youtube

#Youtube

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appelia · 1 year

Text

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ He Gave Me The Stars

Craig x Tweek

IMPORTANT: all my characters in my fics are aged up to 19-24. Side note: excuse my poor English.

Warning: NSFW

Genre(s): Fluff, Smut

A/n: This is sort of like a separate segment from a chaptered Creek fic I'm currently working on called "He Thinks He Took The Train To Mars"! Depending on how well this does, I might post the fic to both Tumblr and AO3 :)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The morning brings sweet guinea pig squeals to the ears of those closest. It brings soft sunlight peering through the open part of dark blue curtains. It brings feather-light kisses on cheeks, noses, foreheads, and lips. It holds a sliver of a guarantee that you survived yet another night with your lover.

But, as happy as all that made Craig, he still preferred the night. Because the night brought arms wrapped tightly around waists. It brought sensual touches paired with deep kisses. It brought deep conversations with the person lying next to you.

Craig genuinely believed he loved the night sky so much, not only because of what it brought, but also because his blond haired lover hung the stars in the sky for him.

Tweek preferred the morning sky, but that didn't stop Craig from being smitten to the idea that Tweek was his universe. Every kiss, every touch, every movement had Craig seeing stars. Tweek was his StarBoy.

And, in the night, Craig's StarBoy would find himself sat on the floor, in between his lover's legs. He'd work his stardust in order to take Craig apart, in order to have him whining Tweek's name.

With one hand on Craig's base, and the other slowly teasing his tip, the only sound that could be heard in the dead of the night was soft moans and heavy breathing. Tweek's thumb rubbed circles into the tip, smiling with pride at the way precum leaked out of the slit. He bent down to lick it up, enjoying Craig's loud whimper.

"Please, honey," he whispers.

"What do you want, baby?" Tweek teased. He knew what he wanted, but he wanted to hear it put into words. He kept giving kitten licks to Craig's tip.

"You... I want your mouth, please," Craig muttered, looking away from where the blond male sat pretty in between his legs.

Tweek smiled before engulfing Craig's dick into the warm heat of his mouth. Everytime the two found themselves in this position, Tweek's usual twitchiness ceased almost entirely, as if his mind replaced the feeling of anxiety with arousal, allowing him to give his utmost attention to pleasuring his boyfriend.

And pleasure his boyfriend he did, his head bobbing up and down on Craig's dick, his cheeks hollowed. Craig reached down to tangle his fingers in the mess of light hair, pulling as he groaned into the sensation of the warm, wet mouth around him.

He looked out the window, which had the curtains pulled back to reveal the clear night sky. All those stars, and yet, the only one that mattered was currently sucking him off.

He loved Tweek more than anything. He couldn't ever imagine being in this situation with anyone else. Tears welled in his eyes, from both the ethereal feeling of Tweek's mouth, but also because he couldn't contain just how much he loved his lover.

Tweek pulled off when he noticed Craig's tears. "Is everything okay, babe? Should I stop? Was something wrong?" He internally panicked. His boyfriend was usually stoic, and certainly never cried when receiving head.

"No! No, of course not," Craig wiped his eyes and cupped Tweek's cheek in his palm. "I just... love you so much. Please keep going, you're so perfect."

Tweek kissed Craig's palm before latching his mouth back on the dick in front of him. All it took was a couple of tongue flicks to the slit to make Craig break. He loudly moaned Tweek's name repeatedly, like a mantra he'd never been allowed to say until now. Hot, salty liquid shot into Tweek's mouth. He happily swallowed all of it, even lapping up the bits he may have missed on the tip.

When done, he pushed himself up onto Craig's bed, pushing the other back so he can wrap his arms around him.

"I love you, Craig," he said softly, pressing a kiss to his lover's nose.

"I love you more, my star."

#south park creek #sp creek #south park #sp fanfiction #craig x tweek #craig tucker #tweek tweak #tweek x craig #south park fanfiction #creek

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hickorythorne · 3 months

Text

A Good Dad

My intestines

Spin loops

And tighten into a knot

When I hear the words

'Oh come on, I was a good dad.

Right?'

My mouth is frozen

My tongue

Suddenly so heavy,

Anchored to my bottom jaw.

I sit still as a stone

As if every fibre inside

Is on fire,

My mind spiralling

And I can feel the world

Fall away

Then there they are.

There are the paddocks,

There is the trough

Like a well,

There is the long fence

Snaking through the grass

Like the spines

Of a great dragon,

Dipping through the green

That long, wet grass

Numbs our bare feet as we run,

The cow pats warming our toes

In a miss-step

Over the little hill we go,

Hearts racing

Minds reeling

Ears burning with the words

You'd roared

So strong they propel

Our legs faster,

Never stopping

To the hollow tree

On the other side.

How cold we are,

Breath escaping warm bodies

In tiny puffs

A backpack slinging

Side to side, jingling,

Loose spoons against beans in cans

Enough for a day.

One to stand watch,

Neck long,

Eyes wide,

Taller on the tips of toes,

Ushering the others

Under the fence that would bite

If it found skin.

Barbed wire snagging

On clothes and hair as we crawl

Making use

Of the Kangaroo passages

Under the wire.

The morning mist hangs heavy,

Shrouding the paddock

Like a wall that can hide us

Promising we never

Have to go back.

The house, a smear on the hillside,

Your rage

Just a note on the breeze

Too far on the horizon

To sting our ears now,

Too far to think about

What would be waiting

When we have to return.

We hide.

Like tiny fugitives,

In the string of shaggy paperbarks

Along the marsh

Where the house on the hill

With it's angry, watching eyes

Can't see,

And our freedom

Is finally our own

Beans and corn thins,

Half a loaf of bread,

Steel water bottles,

Matches,

Pocket knife,

Her precious

Forbidden spoons

Stolen from the draw.

We sit, hearts begining to slow,

All four

On the rotting log.

Numb, dirty feet dangle

In the ice cold creek

Until the feeling has gone

As if it can erase

The pain

In other places.

We talk.

We are angry

We are guilty

We are ashamed

We are confused

We are sad.

We carve holes

In the white sand

Of that empty dam,

Angry cold fingers

Scratching at the banks

As if it could dig a tunnel

To another world

We stack rocks to slow the creek,

Flatten reeds into burrows,

Raise sticks to make shade,

And catch leeches on our ankles

Each of us talking without pause,

Of our plans to stop it.

To stop you.

To rid the house

On the top of the hill

Of the anger

And pain

The fear that resides

Inside it,

Inside all of us.

We'd rescue the brave,

Beautiful maiden,

Who is trapped inside

And take her far,

Far away.

To the land through the tunnel

In the dam.

We talk

About the guilt

That built a great wall inside us

Knowing as we'd run,

We'd left her behind

Alone, she defends

All that she has,

Her offspring

Bounding on thin legs

Across a paddock far away

To make camp

And hide

Amongst the reeds

For as long as we can.

But then

I hear a ringing

And the mist seeps away

As it all rushes back.

The table is stuck into my stomach

And my nails

Ache

As I release their grip

On the seat of my chair.

The knots in my stomach

Now so tight

I hardly remember

How to breathe.

Then the question

Is repeated

'But I was a good dad, right?'

And from behind my own eyes

I hear myself say

'Oh, of course'

#poetry #trauma #siblings #childhood #personal #life #poetry by me #life experiences

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caithyra · 10 months

Text

Horse Ranch Quick Impression

As a simmer and former horse-obsessed girl, I guess I should talk a bit about it.

First, when I heard that they would do a “Horse Ranch” expansion pack, I first thought “welp, that should be a game pack” and secondly that the theme would either be boring American world again (wild west) and reuse plants and other things from Oasis Springs (base game) and possibly even Strangerville (the game pack) or Australian outback (marginally more interesting), since we haven’t any Australian world yet and those two are the only two possible themes with “ranch” in the title. I put my money on the boring option, since it would allow them to reuse assets even though it is an expansion pack (and they did, several of the plants are very familiar in the trailer). Aaand I was right.

Second, I like Native American rep, but I do not believe for a second EAxis cares about any minority rep, given that we have Louisiana and Arizona and American suburbs in the base game with no NA rep, not even added in an SDX patch.

Third, the side-braid is just an updated version of the Get Together side-braid. It will be interesting if they begin updating old EPs’ hairs after the base game and it ends up looking near identical...

Fourth, goats and sheep should have been in Cottage Living (as should horses, unicorns and fairies).

Fifth, even when trained to an expert level of riding, the sim in the trailer refuses to hold the reins properly (reins should be between thumb and index finger, and between ring finger and little finger, not like a toddler holding sporks and banging the ends against a table).

Sixth, nectar making to lure those with TS3:World Adventures nostalgia, instead of, y’know, putting it in My Wedding Stories where it would make sense (on the other hand, maybe EAxis is making fun of the high alcoholic rates among Native Americans? Yes, I am reaching, but they put a bisexual woman leaving a man at the altar for another woman in MWS! I no longer give them the benefit of the doubt, and even if the connection never occurred to them, it is awfully strange to put the alcoholic game mechanic in the same pack as their first NA rep in TS4 when they had many, many other packs and base game to introduce both in separately. It’s awful optics, in any case).

Seventh, no mechanical bull to ride. No rocking horse to be seen to be used by children/toddlers. Lets hope that they’re holding back unicorns as surprise, hm? But how they’re going to get unicorns to fit into this world rather than the lush greenery of Cottage Living will be interesting...

Well, that’s my immediate negative reactions out of the way.

Here’s the thing, this is a game pack with a few extras added (nectar making, goats, sheep) that should have been in other packs, and those extras are not enough to tip it over into an expansion (that’s supposed to affect everyone’s gameplay in all/most worlds in some way). If it was a game pack, it would be a nice game pack from what the trailer has shown us with a few out-of-the-left-field elements thrown in (nectar making).

Like, lets say that you only get the Base Game and Horse Ranch, but you don’t want to have horses in a dusty old wild west, but in the lush greenery of Willow Creek.

Sage Estates are pretty much the only lots that are large enough to accommodate a stable, paddock and house without being cramped. Sage Estates is also a TINY neighborhood. Like, imagine trying to ride around there? Yeah.

They should fix it by making larger parts of the neighborhoods playable and routed (Foundry Cove in Willow Creek, for example, has that whole street beyond the main road that’s out-of-bounds) through an update, but given how they haven’t been able to update for swimable waters where there should be swimable waters (Granite Falls, Forgotten Hollow etc.) it might be impossible to update the neighborhoods at all (possibly because it would break existing saves/not apply to saves).

Eh, I’ve collected all the packs of The Sims since TS1 (including all the Worlds from TS3′s store), and I have collected the whole of TS4 up to now (including Grim’s guitar), so I’ll probably buy it, but this reinforces my decision not to get The Sims 5 at all, never mind any DLC. They’ve just completely destroyed any good will that the previous three iterations built up with me, and that was A LOT of good will.

I’ll just mod TS4 extensively once the updates are done and I wont have to worry about mods breaking and destroying my saves (I’m still modding it now, just more conservatively with a few mods that either leave no trace if removed, or that are regularly updated after every patch).

#the sims #the sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4: horse ranch #horse ranch #I'm being a negative nancy again #I'll seriously skip ts5 at this rate

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hsubeans · 1 year

Text

The Tiger who breaks the Dawn

#002 The Encounter (2)

Jjaeng-geulang!

A sharp sound hit his ears. Cheon Ryubeom remained still, his head bowed, staring down at the shards of pottery rolling by his side. A ferocious roar of rage fell from overhead.

“Worthless! Don’t you have shame, coming back to the family looking like this!”

“Didn’t even catch a single fox, tsk tsk.”

A stream of verbal abuse poured down on him as soon as he stepped foot into the large tiled-roof house. He had entered through the back door and was heading straight to his room when he unfortunately ran into the elders.

The elders of the Tiger Clan were very strict and demanding. And there were also those who didn’t like Ryubeom very much. When they saw Ryubeom’s face, they immediately frowned and clicked their tongues.

Judging from the contents of their scolding, it seemed that they had already heard from Cheon Yeongdo. Ryubeom remained silent, his head bowed. When dawn came, his cousins set off for the mansion first, leaving him behind, so he had to trek back alone. He washed off all the dirt and mud by the creek, but the torn clothes couldn’t be helped.

“I’m sure even the foxes laughed at you. Those sly animals must have watched your unsightly fall from hiding.”

Biting criticism and disapproval came one after another. Accustomed, Ryubeom let them pass through one ear and out the other. If you listened to too many things, it eventually became white noise at some point. Rather than purposely ignoring it, it was close to subconsciously shutting out.

Was it really such a big mistake, or were they just using it as an excuse to berate him? Ryubeom knew the difference well.

The cousins walking down the hall noticed the commotion and threw annoyed looks this way. The stares that said, ‘I knew it’. Irritated looks that clearly said ‘the mansion is noisy again today because of that guy’. Chattering whispers faintly reached his ears.

“What’s all this fuss in the morning?”

The seemingly endless stream of criticism was immediately cut off.

Silence came upon at the words uttered by a soundless presence approaching them. In an instant, the atmosphere changed, and everyone’s attention was turned to him.

A person dressed in a dark red long over-coat, his hair white as snow, and with a face full of wrinkles. His eyes nestled in the deep hollows of his wrinkled sockets were as shapely and sharp as they were, and not a hint of senility to be seen at all.

The existence exuding a sharp and lofty air, like an old pine tree perched atop a sheer cliff, was the patriarch of the Tiger Clan. Cheon Gun. A tiger who had protected the family for centuries and raised its prestige. A being close to god.

“My, my lord.....”

All the people gathered in the hallway greeted and bowed respectfully to the head of the family. Ryubeom also bowed his head deeply in greeting, but he could clearly feel his cold gaze falling on him, prickling even his skin.

Tsk. Soon, he heard a short click of a tongue.

“Pathetic.”

.....It was a remark infinitely shorter than the elders’ who preceded him, and although barely a single word, it cut exceptionally deep on Cheon Ryubeom’s heart. Ryubeom bowed his head a little deeper.

Soon, the patriarch moved on, no longer paying attention to Ryubeom. The tigers in the hallway swarmed after him. It was a very natural progression.

The patriarch rolled up his sleeve and massaged his right arm. A long, jagged, ugly scar stretched across it, as if a severed arm had been forcibly reattached.

“My right arm is sore from all this rain. We have to catch that damn traitor this time.”

“Yes. Everything will be as father wishes.”

“How’s the chase going? Still wandering abroad?”

“For now.....”

Their voices faded as they headed down the hallway on the other side. Ryubeom raised his head only after the surrounding movements completely disappeared. He’d had his head down since the moment he entered the mansion, and his neck was already stiff.

He quickened his steps towards the attic.

The mansion used by the tiger family was a spacious tile-roofed house with a 600-year history. Renovation works were carried out according to the trend of the times, and some of the annexes were extended to two floors. Ryubeom used the attic of the annex farthest from the center, among others.

It was a warehouse-like space, but Ryubeom liked it. It was far from the main building, so if he stayed in the room, it was less likely to run into other family members. He still had to attend family meals regularly, so he had to walk a long way every time he ate, but the space where he could be alone was so precious that it didn’t really feel like a drawback.

Ryubeom immediately washed himself when he arrived at the narrow attic. He bathed thoroughly for a very long time, as if trying to wash away all the words he heard and the glances he received yesterday and today.

Ryubeom came out after a while, and was about to flop down on the bed in a much refreshed state when he found something that had fallen out of his pants he had thrown it over a chair. It was a leaf.

Slowly, Ryubeom’s mouth fell open. He had completely forgotten about this. It was the leaf he had received from the fox last night, and the situation at the time was so urgent that he just shoved it in his pocket and completely forgot about it. He still didn’t know why the fox gave him the leaf in the first place.

He could see a few holes punctured here and there. Did he tear it when it was in his pocket? What is this.....

“.....a phone number?”

Confusion flooded Ryubeom’s eyes. It was clearly a phone number, as it was engraved with a hyphen in between so that it would not be mistaken for a simple series of numbers.

Engraving a phone number on a leaf to give someone. It was a fusion communication, a mix of tradition and modern. Ryubeom couldn’t take his eyes off the leaf even though he wasn’t unfamiliar with them. The moment the water drops from his hair hit the leaf and burst, the memories of last night clearly flashed past his mind like a vision.

It had been a bit of an impulsive decision.

If only he had hunted the foxes he found then, if only he had dragged them here, even if he hadn’t hurt them. He wouldn’t have to listen to the verbal abuse like a moment ago, and he wouldn’t have been scorned and insulted.

He knew it for sure even at that moment. He knew what would happen if he didn’t bring in the foxes.

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to reach out to them.

The fox cubs trembling in fear, the fragile appearance of the children. Terrified to the bones that they couldn’t even hide their ears and tails. And the adult fox hugging the children tight, his guard up.

The sight of it triggered a flash of memory.

‘Mom, dad.....’

Ryubeom squeezed his eyes shut, and forcibly cut off his thoughts. A wry smile crept onto his lips. It was kinda funny, he managed to save them, but not himself.

Perhaps it was just mercy in passing. Did he want to be looked at with envy by those weaker than him? They must have seen him being ignored and thought he looked funny..... Ryubeom shook his head again when he ended up continuing his cynical thoughts like a habit and to kill the confused emotions.

He just washed up and came out, he didn’t want to do it again to calm himself down. Even though he failed the regular exam yesterday, and even though he failed to follow the order to hunt foxes, and even though he was called pathetic after rolling down the mountain.

‘.....They won’t kick me out of the family just yet.’

Thinking it would be okay since the Head didn’t say anything, Ryubeom finally flopped down on the bed. The leaf was still clutched in his hand.

To engrave a number like this, you would need to know how to use your spiritual power quite delicately.....

It shouldn’t have been hard to escape from the mountain if he had this kind of control over his spiritual power, but was it difficult since he was injured and had little foxes with him?

The extent of his injuries must have been quite severe. It was dark, so he couldn’t get a good look at his condition.

“Ah, I keep thinking again.”

Ryubeom shook his head. The words of the elders that there was nothing good about being entangled with foxes lingered in his ears. He had to get rid of the leaf quickly before anyone else found out.

However, just as he was about to put it on the bedside table, the leaf tore.

“.....!”

It wasn’t just torn, it completely crumbled into pieces. Instead of trying to piece it back together in panic, Ryubeom reflexively picked up his phone and entered the number engraved on the leaf. He knew he had to write it down before he forgot it. Ryubeom absently stared at the number listed on the screen when he was done.

The Tiger Clan and the Fox Clan didn’t get along very well. Tigers were the apex predators of the ecosystem, reigning over all animals, but most oftentimes, the Fox Clan liked to pick fights with them. The elders despised them intensely, always saying that they dared to attack without knowing their place.

Even the patriarch had warned that no one should get involved with a fox. There was no one in the clan who didn’t know that the wound on his arm was caused by the Head of the Fox Clan.

Even though he knew that the number should be deleted immediately, Ryubeom couldn’t bring himself to move his hand. The little foxes he saw last night flickered before his eyes.

Maybe I should text him.

Their guardian was injured when he found them, so wouldn’t it be okay to check if they had escaped well to the end? He knew none of the cousins who went to Gwanak Mountain together with him succeeded in the fox hunt, but he wondered if they were safe.

Ryubeom moved his hand. His thumb, which was supposed to head to the Message app, impulsively moved towards the Phone. The reasoning behind this was completely absurd.

‘I’ll definitely repay this kindness.’

He thought the voice he heard yesterday was especially nice.

Ryubeom’s tension rose as the sound of the call went on and on. His heart pounded with guilt and a strange sense of anticipation, as if he was doing something wrong. He even had a crazy thought that if he could confirm that they were safe, he might be able to forget the verbal abuse he had to receive today.

The other side finally picked up the phone.

Ryubeom unconsciously sucked in a breath. He could see the call duration displayed on the screen slowly increased, but there was no word from the other end. Not even a simple hello. Ryubeom hesitated and opened his mouth.

But before he could speak, he heard the other person’s voice.

- Uung, who is it?

It was a clear, ringing voice. He could tell by the tone that the other person was a child. Bewildered, Ryubeom narrowed his eyes and asked a question. Normally, in a situation like this, you could ask the other person’s name to confirm the owner of the phone, but unfortunately, he didn’t know his name.

“.....is this phone yours?”

- Ung? Mine is broken.

- What? This voice! It’s the tiger yesterday!

- Oh oh, yes! The good tiger who helped us!

The voices of the three little kids were heard, chattering back and forth. After confirming that they were the little foxes he saved yesterday, Ryubeom let out a sigh of relief. Fortunately, all three of them were fine.

“Yes, the tiger from yesterday. Where did the owner of this phone go?”

- Hiya is sick.

“.....Hiya?”

- Ung, Yeohi.

Was the fox’s name ‘Yeohi’? The child’s pronunciation was a bit slurred, so he wasn’t really sure, but Ryubeom nodded and replied.

“Is he very sick?”

- Ung, so he went to the sky.

“.....what?”

Ryubeom was taken aback for a moment, but since the child’s tone was lighthearted, it was probably not serious. Does that mean he went out for a while? Of course, it would be a big deal if he actually went up to the sky, but Ryubeom decided to ask another question.

episode 1 | episode 3 | episode 4 - | request access here

#the tiger who breaks the dawn #hsubeans translations

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shaydystheshadowqueen · 2 years

Text

All Hallow: Croaker Creek

Midnight Midway

Dark Sea Cove

Cursed by a terrible incident one year before the town’s founding, this tragic town is host to all kinds of spooks, both friendly and not so friendly…

Coming off the back left corner of Pumpkin Acres (opposite of Goblin Woods entrance), a dusty cart trail lead through the woods to an open dry land with a seemingly abandoned late 1800’s frontier town nestled in the middle. After passing through a cemetery listing the dead folks of the town (see Characters), a worn old wood sign sits in the dirt near the entrance with “Welcome to Croaker Creek” scrawled on it. Inside the town, wild west buildings stand like old tombstones, their side worn and windows dirty and cracked, in a long straight line. Past the main town, the path branches two ways; one way leads left towards a rocky landscape and a dried-up creek, while another leads right to an open dusty farmers field with ghostly glowing teepees set up and an old large farmhouse in the background.

In contrast to Pumpkin Acres, which is filled with the bounty of a good fall harvest and has plenty of life and vegetation, the entirety of Croaker Creek is dead and dry in a literal sense. Wilted plants and dead trees line the dusty road and there are no signs of anything living…at least in the mortal natural sense.

Signs of spooks and curses can be found all over the town of Croaker Creak. Along with the appearance of the residents in ghostly attire, you can also hear and see other eerie sights. Voices croak from seemingly nowhere and the sound of water can be heard from the dried creak. Objects move on their own and the player piano will stop playing sometimes when a stranger walks through the door or play certain themes in accordance with certain spirits appearing. It’s pretty clear that the town is haunted by some old wild west spirits but luckily most of them are quite nice! Background music for the town would be mellow and slow county instrumentals.

Characters:

Every character in Croaker Creek has a corresponding gravestone in the cemetery with the exception of Shaman Poloma

Sheriff Leroy Hollow: The old sheriff of Croaker Creak. Although he might not seem like the most efficient lawman, when there’s trouble, he’ll do what’s needed for the community. Died by a gunshot. (It’s unclear whether it was Harry Van Terrior or Snakebite that shot him, but that’s up to the visitors to decide)

Mayor Harry Van Terrior: The mayor and founder of Croaker Creek. Although many praise the mayor for his charitable work and leadership, some suspect that the mayor may hide a dark secret. Died by starvation.

Isabelle Van Terrior: The mayor’s beautiful daughter. Many men tried to woo her into marriage, but suspiciously some who dated her died in mysterious ways. Died by strangulation (again, it’s unclear who killed her, but suspects include Snakebite, Evelyn Sellers and Bo Blackwater.)

Ezra ‘Snakebite’ Crane: An outlaw that brings terror wherever he and his gang of crooks go. A slippery and dangerous thug that delights in scaring individuals and has a wicked fast shot. Died in a shootout with Leroy Hollow and several town folks.

Evelyn Sellers: The mother of one of Isabelle’s suitors that died. A crooked old woman that spites and despises young beautiful woman and one of the suspects in Isabelle’s murder. Some believed she was a witch and tested her by drowning her in a dunking pool. Some think it is because of her death that the drought happened.

Bo Blackwater: A wheel-chair bound cripple that used to drift from town to town. He can often be heard playing his old banjo and singing old western songs. Died when he was hanged for the crime of murder. (He knows he’s innocent, but the rest of the town thinks he’s a filthy liar)

Shaman Poloma: Native American shaman and storyteller. She and her tribe once lived on this land until they were tricked into eating poisoned food.

The Horseman family: A farming family that lives near town. Near the end of their lives, they became haunted by unknown spirits and slowly became insane thanks to the drought ruining their crops and starvation and the incidents in town. (their graves are near the family home or cremated in vases inside)

Other characters that make an appearance in the graveyard and in Croaker Creek are Isabelle’s suitors that gather around her, Snakebite’s gang, some of the shopkeepers (see Shops and Eateries) and the miners in Howl Mine

Attractions:

Howl Mine: A rickety mine cart ride within a mine that suffered many deaths over its lifetime. You can still hear the moaning of miners and see their ghosts as you fly by quickly on this hair-raising trip!

The Bloody Pit: A terrifying drop ride into the depths of the mine shaft, where 13 miners died in an explosion and suffocated on gas.

Storytelling Circle: Gather in the large white teepee and listen and watch as Shaman Poloma tells Native American stories about monsters and evil spirits. Complete with special effects and shadow puppetry on the tent walls.

Tale of Terror: The Horseman Tradigy: An immersive horror show set in the home of The Horseman’s. Intense 14+ A performance that technically isn’t a haunt maze, but will leave you haunted.

Van Terrior Hotel and Scalawag Alley: The actual haunt maze of Croaker Creak, this claustrophobic maze starts in the hotel, where Isabelle’s suitors haunt the halls looking for their love, to the back alley where the pain of starvation and thirst turned the town folks insane, to the secret hideaway of Snakebite and his villainous gang of crooks.

Shops and Eateries:

Nannie’s Outfitters: Owned by a shopkeeper that died in an accident that twisted her head, this costume shop sells more variety of western outfits beyond just cowboys and cowgirls. This includes mining outfits, saloon jobs (barkeep, dancer, musician, etc), and even outlaw costumes.

The Deserted Skull Saloon: Every western town needs a saloon, and The Deserted Skull is the spookiest saloon you’ll ever enter! Barbeque dishes and sasparilla and root beer pair well with the theatrics that plays on the stage inside. Sometimes, the famous ghosts of Croaker Creak show up for a visit.

The Native Outpost: A small stand just off the path to the farmland serving Native American frybread and pemmican

Thomas Peterson’s Photography Studio: Connected to Nannie’s Outfitters, this photography studio run by a burnt ghost offers both single and group photos, with the option of renting western outfits to wear. The shop also has some old newspapers and pamphlets telling a bit of the history of the town. There is also a surprise in the photos; each photo comes with a hidden ghost in the pic!

Side path: A path in the mine leads to the Western Exhibit in History of Horror

Visit @allhallowsthemepark for more Halloween horror!

#all hallows #all hallows theme park #croaker creek #this was actually quite hard to figure out attractions and shops #primarly because I didn't want to copy anything Pumpkin Acres had #I'm happy with what I got though #shout out to #Catch The Keys Production #for the horror show idea

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