#and WOOD??? HAS SO MANY DIFFERENT COLORS ITS SO BEAUTIFUL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

byeuijoo · 5 months

Text

spring things 𐀔 boynextdoor

genre : mostly fluff ⋆ warnings : none ⋆ word count : 0,5k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ୨ ✩ ୧

park sungho ⭒ a bike ride down the lane

on a beautiful spring afternoon, under a sunny sky, with birds singing in the wind, there's nothing better than a romantic bike ride around the lake not far from your home. sungho was ready to follow you everywhere, so he didn't hesitate for a second before following your lead. after a few minutes of preparation, you're off into the wind under a bright sun, rolling side by side, beautiful and radiant smiles on your lips, the scent of budding flowers tickling your nostrils in this new spring season.

lee riwoo ⭒ making flower crowns

the advantage of living in the countryside is having a big garden full of little flowers of all colors. a sunny afternoon of boredom, sanghyeok and you set up outside, filling a basket with a bunch of different little flowers to make flower crowns together later. after settling down on the outdoor table, you busied yourselves making your wreaths while chatting about anything and everything in the spring sunshine. just as you had finished yours, you felt something on your head — and when you looked up, you saw the crown your boyfriend had made in your hair.

myung jaehyun ⭒ picnic dates

even if the wind was against him, and prevented him for a good 3 minutes from putting the picnic tablecloth on the park's fresh grass, jaehyun finally succeeded in getting the latter into the right position to carefully deposit the many dishes you had prepared together beforehand. the return of spring and sunny weather means the return of romantic picnics during your free afternoons — listening to music with one headphones in one of your ear, eating, chatting and laughing out loud, you often end up dozing off against each other, his warm hand playing with your hair, while you can't take your eyes off his angelic face.

han taesan ⭒ walk through the woods

there's nothing better than the first walk in the woods in early spring, when the trees regain their color and flowers begin to bloom here and there. your hand clinging to dongmin's, fallen branches crackle under your feet with every step, but this doesn't disturb the birds returning from their migration. their new song mingles with the scent of greenery, nature and the renewal of this sweet season. and the soft, fragile wind settles on your skin in a pleasant veil that simply makes you want to enjoy this walk with the boy who gives you butterflies in the stomach. he seems interested in every new flower specimen that crosses his gaze.

kim leehan ⭒ lying under the sunny sky & watch the clouds

lying on a blanket in your garden, donghyun was at your side, his arm tucked behind your neck. the sun shone high in the sky, flowers showed their buds on the trees, colorful daisies grass, and in the blue sky, pretty white clouds forming all sorts of patterns that let your imagination run free. occasionally pointing a finger at the sky, outlining your drawings and arguing your ideas, the atmosphere of springtime renewal and the gentle breeze caressing your skin could be felt. especially when you felt donghyun's hand lightly caress your hair.

kim woonhak ⭒ jumping in puddles after a rainstorm

every teenager has a childlike side to him — and you and woonhak are no exception to the rule. after watching the rain fall violently for hours, slightly spoiling the afternoon you had free, the spring sun was finally showing its face, despite everything still being wet outside. putting on your rain boots, the boy pulled you by the hand outside, great bursts of laughter leaving your lips every time you jumped in a puddle. you were bound to end up soaked and your clothes full of mud, but no matter — the euphoria of the moment was far more important.

⠀

reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated !

taglist ౨ৎ @leehanist @wtfhyuck @florainnie @dazzlingligth @yuma-is-mine

178 notes · View notes

legiblyloathed · 1 year

Text

Ain’t He Darling? (Chapter 2)

Yandere! Wally Darling x Reader

A/N: This has gone from a oneshot to a twoshot to what’s now shaping up to be at least a five chapter story and for that I apologize. The “date” with Wally was only meant to be half a chapter and now it’s a full one. I will, in fact, learn nothing from this and will continue to accidentally increase my workload in the future. Many thanks for the kind comments on chapter 1, and I hope you enjoy chapter 2!

People who requested to be tagged; @whynot5243 @tikosan @itsyellow @twerkingnutella18 @azoart Y’all keep me going, I wish you the best.

Prev ——— Next

You know, maybe it was hasty to imagine Wally killing me as the worst case scenario. I think I’d take getting murdered in the woods over the uncomfortable silence I’ve been stewing in all afternoon.

Or at least, the silence is making me uncomfortable. Ever since I dragged myself out of the house to paint with him like I promised, I’ve spent damn near every minute avoiding eye contact like it’d kill me. Not that it seems to be working, as every time I glance up from my painting, I can see him out of the corner of my eye, and without fail he’s always focused on me. How he’s managed to finish his own drawing in between these moments is beyond me, but the way the easels are laid out, I can’t see his canvas anyway. There’s every chance it’s blank, and he just coerced me out here to stare at me without interruption.

But now, the sky is shifting to a myriad of colors, and I send up a silent thank you to the heavens for the excuse to leave. “Well, this has been fun,” I start, wiping the excess paint on my hands onto the apron he loaned me. “But I don’t wanna have to walk home in the dark, so I’d best be off.”

“It has been fun, hasn’t it?” After who knows how long of complete silence, his voice makes me jump slightly. Wally takes a few slow, measured steps in my direction, stopping just a little too close to my personal bubble. His eyes glued to my messy painting of the woods, and his eternal smile seems to widen. “You’re good at this.”

I manage to let out a laugh. “Not really, but I appreciate it.” I glance over my own art at the back of his easel, morbid curiosity eating away at me. As much as I want to see what the resident weirdo drew when he wasn’t trying to burn a hole in my forehead, something tells me it’s better not to know.

Wally’s head turns slightly, following my gaze to his own artwork. “Oh, do you want to see mine?” he asks, not waiting for my answer as he walks over and grabs it off the easel. He stares down at it for a moment, as if ensuring its quality, then turns it around and holding it up for me to see. “I worked hard on it. What do you think?”

Upon examination, I think I should have chosen a different neighborhood to move into, one with less terrifying residents. Staring back at me is a portrait of none other than myself. I’m sitting on a bench, which, after a moment, I recognize as the one under the apple tree where Wally had been the day prior. I look relaxed, leaning back and resting my weight on my hands behind me, my attention drawn to something off to the right. As I scan it over, I note that I wasn’t drawn with the clothes I wore today, but the ones I had on yesterday, down to finest of details. It’s beautiful, and I hate it.

I’m left frozen in place, gawking at the perfect recreation of my likeness in silence. The man doesn’t seem to mind, content to let me take in the details of his piece as he in turn observes my reaction. When I manage to pull my attention back to his face, I stammer out, “That’s…” A hell of a red flag? My worst nightmare on a canvas? A fear I’d have deemed laughable before this moment? “…incredibly realistic.”

Wally turns the painting back to himself, looking down at it with an air of fondness. “I suppose it is. I can’t take all the credit, though.” His eyes look up at me, his head unmoving. “I had a very inspiring model.”

At this, I can feel the two sides of my brain start to feud. The optimistic side makes a good effort to insist that this explains the staring, that he just wanted to get the details right and I was wrong to treat it like a problem. The more realistic side then slaps the optimistic side upside the head and points out that no amount of staring could explain the sheer level of detail in clothes that I’m not even wearing today.

My thoughts continue to conflict with each other, the turmoil so strong that I don’t even register Wally getting closer until he’s barely a foot away from me. I jolt back, nearly falling over. He seems unbothered. “Say, neighbor, would you mind helping me carry all this back to Home? The paintings are delicate, I don’t want them getting crushed.”

Part of me really wants that painting getting crushed, but I don’t dare admit that out loud. Instead, I nod. “Alright, but we gotta hurry. It’ll be dark soon.” Already the sun is casting long shadows, obscured by the trees to the west. Wally and I pack up the paints and fold up the easels, and I balance them all in my arms while he holds the canvases to his chest. Together, the two of us set off towards the house in the center of the neighborhood.

No words are exchanged as we journey through the town. He seems content with the silence, and I’m content to not have to talk to him. It seems the rest of our neighbors have called it a day, Wally and I being the only two people out and about. The weight of the supplies makes my arms ache, but if the alternative is carrying a piece of art that feels just a little too haunted for my taste, I think I can tolerate the discomfort. I don’t know how the hell he managed to drag all of this junk out in the first place.

The sun has sunk down past the horizon by the time we make it to Home, painting the sky a myriad of purples and deep blues. It takes all I have left in me not to collapse upon the porch, made all the worse by Wally’s continued nonchalance as he opens the door and beckons me inside. I brush past him into the living room, dumping my armload of supplies onto the coffee table. With a weary huff, I throw myself down onto his couch to catch my breath, my eyes drooping shut.

“You feeling alright, there, neighbor?” The sofa sinks ever so slightly as he settles down beside me. When I don’t reply, too busy staring at my eyelids and regulating my heartbeat, he speaks with what almost feels like genuine concern, “If you were getting tired, you should have spoken up. I’d have been happy to take a break.”

I shake my head. “Fine, I’m fine. Just need a minute before I head home.”

There it is again, that damn laugh. “What do you mean? This is Home.” The sound of a door squeaking registers in my periphery, and I let my eyes open, squinting against the bright colors of his house. I take a glance out of the corner of my eye, and sure enough, his own are glued on my face with a smile that registers as a little too suspicious for my tastes.

An increasingly familiar sense of unease overtaking me, I push myself up and lean away from him, hoping he didn’t notice, yet knowing he did. “I mean yeah, it’s your home, Wally,” I say, “but I have my own home to get back to.”

He lets out a soft hum, and I swear his smile wavers for just a moment. “I suppose you do,” he murmurs, sounding like he was talking to himself more than me. Risking another glance, I’m surprised to see his eyes not on me, but focused on the paintings that he had leaned against his armchair. My portrait, with its flat, distracted gaze, seemed to be staring back at us from the angle at which it stood.

With this newfound distraction from his observation, I move to push myself up off the couch, snapping him out of whatever stupor he’d been wandering in. I make sure to speak before his mouth catches up to his brain. “Well, today’s been… fun, but I think I’m gonna head out.”

I feel a hand clasp around my forearm, and I barely bite back a yelp at the contact. “It’s pretty dark out there, neighbor. Are you sure you don’t want to just sleep here tonight? I think you’d be safer.”

Nope, nope, nope nope nope. I pull my arm away, praying it didn’t look as panicked as it felt. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ll have to pass. It’s not that long a walk, I’ll be fine.” I step away towards the door, and my stomach sinks when I hear Wally get up as well.

As I prepare to head out, the same hand settles upon my shoulder instead. “Well, if you’re sure, I won’t stop you,” he drawls, a trace of emotion I can’t quite name evident in his tone. He slips past me, opening the door himself. He tilts his head, eyes locked on mine. “Let’s do this again sometime. Won’t that be nice?”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a challenge. Straightening up, I stand in the doorframe and meet his stare as evenly as I can. “I’m sure it would be.” The evening chill washes over me as I exit Home. “Good night, Wally.”

“Good night, neighbor. Sleep well.” My steps are steady and even as I walk down the porch stairs, and the light still pouring out as I walk away tells me that the door is still open. That he’s still there, still watching me. I hurry along towards my house, being sure to break out of his line of sight as soon as possible. It doesn’t help with the paranoia, but I pretend it does.

Tears nearly stream down my face in relief as I enter my own home and close the door, leaning back against it and sliding down to the ground. I don’t bother getting up, not to eat, not to shower, nothing. I just sit there, alternating between keeping my eyes closed to try and relax and opening them when I see those horrible eyes taunting me in the inky black. As I feel myself drifting off, one final thought crosses into my mind:

I never got my painting back from Wally.

#yandere wally darling #wally darling x reader #yandere wally darling x reader #yandere x reader #yandere welcome home #male yandere #tw yandere #obsessive yandere #yandere #x reader #horror #ain’t he darling

594 notes · View notes

adrift-in-thyme · 23 days

Text

@telemna-hyelle it took more than an hour (sorry about that) but here it is! The Four/Dot fluff I promised!

I hope it helps you end your day on a good note <33

----------------------------------------------------------

He isn’t ready for this.

Four moves along the wooded path as if in a trance. He knows every step of this place like the back of his hand. But usually, he is much more attentive than this. Usually, he keeps a watchful eye on the surrounding area, scouting for the stray chu or keese.

Today, however, he cannot seem to keep his mind on such things. The sunlight dappled earth beneath his feet, the scent of leaves and bark baked in the afternoon warmth, the breeze that caresses his cheeks, and the chittering of the many critters that scamper about within the foliage – they are all lost on him.

He feels Dot’s hand in his, her palm smooth and warm. He smells her perfume – light and sweet like the cotton candy they spin at the yearly festivals. He hears her laughter, bright and unrestrained and free as she tells a tale from her day. He sees her, radiant, hair like strands of gold and eyes the color of the joyful sky.

She looks at him, says something he can’t comprehend. He nods, conjures up a smile. With luck, it won’t be as strained as he feels that it is.

He has faced beasts one hundred times his size, navigated the pain and confusion of being split into four, saved the world twice. But by the golden three, he is not ready for this.

And yet, he is going through with it anyway. He can’t back down now. Not when his best friend is right here beside him, every moment of basking in her presence strengthening the love he feels for her.

Four squares his shoulders. Yes, this is the right thing to do. The hardest things often are.

The Minish have done a spectacular job preparing the clearing. That much is evident as soon as it comes into view. Everything is as they had planned. Every detail has been attended to with immaculate care.

Vines drape over tree limbs, their slim strands heavy with layered blossoms. Flower petals drift down in lazy pirouettes to join the coat of vibrant pink already lying on the forest floor. The sun glimmers through slightly parted branches. Not far off a fairy fountain casts its soothing glow. Soft notes of magic drift to Four’s ears as he leads Dot forward.

“Link,” she breathes, gazing upward and all around, eyes wide with adoration, “this is beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” he agrees with a calm he in no way feels. “The Minish worked very hard on it.”

Dot turns to him now, head cocked in question. “The Minish? What do you…”

She trails off as he drops to one knee.

It feels as though he is kneeling on a bed of silk. But the sensation in his chest as he reaches into his pouch is about as pleasant as the Big Octorok sitting on him.

The ring is in his palm though, a delicate thing melted and shaped and fired by his own two hands. It had taken countless tries to get it right, to meld the corners into the perfect curve, to carve the designs in the way he imagined them to be. Making jewelry is not quite the same as crafting a sword. It requires a different sort of skill.

But he had found that skill within him. And he had created something beautiful. Something he will be proud to see upon her finger.

“Zelda,” he murmurs and curses the way his voice trembles a bit at the end, “Zelda, Princess of Hyrule, my dearest friend…” He raises his head, gazes into those big blue eyes. The ones that had shone with empathy when the pieces of himself had threatened to shatter him anew. The ones that had glowed with mirth and joy at the festivals, brightened when he told a joke, gone sharp with interest when he told a tale.

The eyes he has gotten lost in so many times before, and hopes to many more times in the future.

“Zelda, will you marry me?”

She stares at him for a long, agonizing moment, hand held to her mouth, emotion surging across her face. Then, she laughs. She laughs and the world sings with the noise. And she swoops down and lands a kiss right on his lips.

“Was…” he croaks when his surroundings have swung back into focus and the dizzying mixture of elation and trepidation have abated somewhat, “...was that a yes?”

“Oh, Link, of course, it was! Of course!” Her hands are on his face. The ring shines on one of her fingers, though he can’t remember placing it there. Everything is a haze, a haze of wonder and joy and fear.

It looks perfect there, though. Almost as though she was born to wear it.

“I’ll marry you, Link!” She cries, visage aglow. “I would like nothing more!”

A laugh bubbles from his lips now, smaller and more hesitant, but overjoyed nonetheless. He stands and suddenly, his arms are around her and hers around him and they are hugging like the world depends upon it. Like if they let go, this moment, this delicate, beautiful moment will solidify and shatter.

Perhaps, it will. But Four likes to think that it is stronger than that. Like they are.

He blinks away the tears and smiles.

As a sword is forged to endure the struggles of time, so is their friendship made to withstand the toughest of tribulations. And that makes moments like this one even more precious.

“I love you,” she says and her very soul is in the words.

Four holds her tighter and makes himself a promise that he will never let her go. He will never allow her to fall in harm’s way again, never leave her to face life alone. No, they will stand tall through it all. Together.

“I love you too,” he whispers. “I love you too.”

#another wild fluff fic appears #two in the span of two weeks??#idk what's happening to me XD #thanks for letting me write this for you tellie <333 #i hope you liked it #and i hope your day gets better #and that tomorrow is easier and brighter #linked universe #lu four #lu dot #zelink #fluff #trin writes

75 notes · View notes

purrsongs · 4 months

Text

games w. species euphoria

please don't spoil any of the games with stories in the replies or reblogs!

Ori and the Blind Forest - felinekin, maybe some kind of fae or angel kin too ori is very good little creature design and it moves around so fluidly but there's zero customization, if you vibe with ori it's great and if you don't, might not be for you. it's a puzzle platformer similar gameplay-wise to hollow knight (but not as difficult)

Hollow Knight - bugkin, ghostkin, voidkin difficult but very pretty and atmospheric. i've played some of it before getting stuck/being unable to progress because i'm not good at video game. hard platformer with boss fights.

Stray - robotkin, catkin this is one i've been meaning to play for ages (and haven't gotten around to pirating yet, cough) Stray is a 3d game set in a cyberpunk/sci fi world. You play as a tabby cat trying to find its way back to its home and it looks stunning. I assume the story is great, too.

Roblox Creatures of Sonaria - there are so many creature designs there you're bound to find something that's youcore their colors can be customized. It's a multiplayer survival game so it's more stressful than the other games on this list, you gotta be trying not to die the whole time

Animal Jam Classic / Animal Jam Play Wild - lots of real world animals you can dress up and change the colors and patterns of your animals. ajc is in 2d and ajpw is in 3d and has more animal options, but i find ajpw really confusing personally.

William and Sly/William and Sly 2 - foxkin old flash games available as a set on steam, a quest platformer where you run around a pretty forest environment as a red fox and find various things. the music is lovely, both games have a great atmosphere, played it a ton as kid on armor games. i dont think i ever even finished either game i just loved running around as sly (in the second game there are also little kitten-fairies that you can collect and that follow you around)

Postmouse - mousekin free on steam, 3d puzzle platformer where you're a mouse that delivers letters. it can get a little obtuse and confusing at times which is why i never finished it, but it's very charming and free to play! you run around all these huge and pretty environments as a fancy-dressed little mouse .

Lost Dream 1 and 2 - foxkin abstract/stylized/polygonal walking simulator where you play as a red fox. doesn't seem to be much story and the reviews are mixed because walking sims like this need to be like, your cup of tea.

Spyro Reignited - dragonkin of course had to mention such an OG dragon game. never played it but like, it's spyro. cartoony 3d platformer in a fantasy environment.

Oneshot - catkin pixel rpg where you play as a cat child and the gimmick is that you only have one life. the steam page tags it as story rich and having multiple endings/story choices you can make, and the graphics are beautiful, the whole game seems to be made of dark colors and poppy accents

Honorable Mentions:

Way to the Woods - an in-development 3d game where you play as a deer and fawn exploring different enviroments.

The Isle - an early access survival MMO where you play as a dinosaur and try to stay alive.

feel free to add more in reblogs, i know i'm missing a lot of classics but i'm getting tired

110 notes · View notes

aris-ink · 1 year

Note

hi this is fear kink anon! 💘 sorry i forgot the member i wanted to choose 😭 but can it be with Jungkook?

baby you deserve a golden medal for your patience, tysm 💖 you said you liked psychological fics.... I tried

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: forbidden romance, steb!siblings au

warnings: mentions of blood, allusions to stalking and violence (not towards the reader), pseudo incest, dub con, allusions to con noncon, dirty talk, degradation, fear kink, choking, mentions of pornographic content and impact play, obsession, manipulation, corruption, hints of dacryphilia

There were many different definitions of art; Jungkook found all of them inside your eyes. He liked to consider himself a good painter, and a few key concepts caught his attention as he worked on developing his skills.

Emotions. There was no point in art if it didn't inspire and make the heart tremble inside its cage. You were the greatest muse of all the raw, vibrant colors exploding behind his eyelids. The most common one always appeared in different shades of red. Something akin to rose petals when you touched him, igniting a fire deep in his abdomen. Something akin to crimson when he saw you with other men, dripping down his swollen knuckles late in the night after he dragged them into empty alleys.

Control. All strokes had to be precise to create the desired effect. And Jungkook found that just as he enjoyed holding the brushes, making them dance on the canvas in his own rhythm - he liked to do the same to you. His vision was his own; it belonged to no one but him. Like you. Every smile and shiver he induced was just as mesmerizing to him as every tear and flinch he caused. It didn't take much; just a little graze of his hand against your thigh, and you were already a beautiful mess of contradicting thoughts and emotions. Trying so hard to stay in line. He knew you too well; your body and soul responded to him in the softest and most primal ways at once, whether you liked it or not.

So why not test your limits? Why not see how much you could handle before you fell apart for him, returned to your barest, rawest form?

It was the only thing on his mind as he sat beside you on the couch, his arm thrown over your shoulder casually. You seemed restless, barely stopping yourself from grimacing at the movie playing on the tv screen. It was your only source of light in the darkness of the living room, providing you with little comfort.

"Jungkook," you sighed, "when are we gonna get to the good part? This movie sucks."

He chuckled.

"It gets better. Don't tell me you're scared already," he teased, tilting his head slightly.

His eyes flickered from the screen to your face fleetingly, noting a small frown forming on it.

"You know I don't like thrillers."

The pout on your lips made his heart flutter. He wanted to lean in and trace his fingertips over your cupid's bow, feel how soft your skin was. But all he did was tighten his arm around you.

"It's a good thing you've got a big brother to protect you, then," he hummed.

You let out a scoff that morphed into a quiet gasp when his hand landed on your thigh. He didn't turn his head in your direction, but he watched you carefully from the corner of his eye. He could see your lips fall open, your back straightening as if you were struck by lightning.

But you said nothing. All this time Jungkook has spent getting you used to being closer to him behind your parents' back was finally paying off. All the nights he took you out to watch horror movies with him, feeling your trembling hand on his chest as you sought protection and shelter in his arms - those were paying off too.

Sighing again, you tried to relax, release the tension in your muscles. In just a few beats, the screaming on the screen would stop and the scene would shift to a different setting, a wild chase through the woods that would no doubt have the hairs on your arms rising when you realized where it was going.

His free hand lifted to your hair, ringed fingers playing with the soft tips, brushing through the strands with a bruising tenderness. With each movement, he counted down the seconds, his sweats already feeling tight when he noticed an outline of trees on the darkening screen.

Three...

Two...

One.

He felt you stiffen in his hold all over again, your eyes widening. You were uncomfortable; it was written all over you, his proximity unnerving rather than consoling when the prey was caught.

Just like you were about to be. A little fly in the spider's web.

It was worse when the clothes started coming off. As though you just realized that the scene was not going to cut off, and perhaps you should have paid more attention to the movie's rating, you squirmed, flattening your palms against the couch.

"I- I think I'm gonna call it a night."

With a twitch of his mouth, Jungkook boldly placed both of his hands on your hips.

"That's not nice," he muttered, effortlessly pulling you up into his lap. "What about spending quality time together? As a family?"

You blinked, suddenly breathless, his thighs flexing under you, arms a cage of steel when you started panicking.

"Jungkook, I mean it! Stop being an asshole."

Your fists beat against his chest, but it didn't bother him at all. It just made him twitch in his pants. He brought his lips close to your ear, making you halt.

"We can finish watching the movie, or I can put on a different one from my personal collection. Your choice, baby."

He knew he didn't need to spell it out for you. You were a smart girl. Defeated, you meekly turned your eyes back towards the depravity on the screen.

"Can I please get back to my seat?" You whispered.

So easy to put into place. Jungkook ignored your request, focused on the way his cock was straining against his sweats, on how if you moved just an inch you'd be able to feel it. He brushed your hair behind your ear when the moaning started, lowering his voice as he spoke again.

"Do you like it?"

"No," you replied sulkily, though he could hear the nervousness making your tone waver. "This movie sucks."

Jungkook bit back a smile, lips pressing closer to your ear.

"I'm not talking about the movie, baby," he murmured. "Do you like the way he fucks her?"

You almost jumped, trying to turn your head towards him to no wonder ask him what the hell was wrong with him. But Jungkook was quicker, gripping your jaw tightly and keeping you still.

"Don't look away and answer my question like a good girl."

He could feel you begin to tremble, but the clenching of your thighs did not escape his attention, and neither did the hitch of your breath.

"This- this isn't funny anymore," you stammered out shakily. "Please, Jungkook."

He dug his fingers into your jaw.

"I'm starting to get angry, baby. Answer the question."

You winced, swallowing harshly, your chest rising unevenly as you tried to find your voice.

"No."

Jungkook clicked his tongue.

"My bad. Let me be more clear."

He dropped his free hand down to your thigh, skimming the inside of it with his fingers.

"Answer honestly, unless you want me to check myself."

The gasp you let out this time was louder, making his stomach simmer with heat. You were so cute; so small and defenseless in the arms of your biggest protector and nightmare all at once.

A sniffle followed. His lips chased the tear that rolled down your cheek.

"Come on, baby, why are you crying? Just tell me the truth. You know you can tell me anything, don't you?"

You bit down on your lower lip. It was fascinating, right down amusing to watch you struggle, trying to locate the courage to either face your inner self and burn with shame, or face the unknown consequences of his anger. The way you shook in his arms made his cock leak precum in excitement, staining his briefs. Every little part of you was his to love, use and control as he pleased. You could have tried to fight. You could have tried to scream. And yet you just sat there and let him tear you to pieces, and to Jungkook that was as much of a love confession as saying the three sacred words out loud.

"You can trust me, baby," he soothed in a whisper. "No one else will ever know. I promise."

You took a deep breath, sniffling once more before attempting to swallow the lump that formed in your throat, pushing the word out through its tight walls.

"Yes."

It was barely a whisper. Light as a feather and yet heavy with the pain it took to pluck it. Jungkook pressed a kiss into your cheek, releasing your jaw from his hold to wrap his arms around your fragile frame again, keep all the scattered pieces of you together.

"Good girl," he whispered, too, his piercing cool against your heated skin, lips brushing across your aching jaw.

With a deep, pleased hum, he began to rub soothing circles into your hand, trying to steady it in his warmth.

"Did it make you wet?" He questioned lowly. "Telling me you liked it."

"Jungkook," you whimpered his name, as though hoping to appeal to his common sense. Or to the softer side of him you were used to. "You're scaring me."

"I know," he pressed the next kiss into your neck, gentle and teasing. "Does that make you wet, too?"

No answer.

Gotcha.

Jungkook slid his palms down your legs, prying them open forcefully, his jaw set tight when you tried to protest, nails digging into your sensitive skin.

"Stop fucking squirming," he hissed. "I am so tired of this little attitude. I will drag you to my room and tie you to the bed if you don't fucking behave."

A visible shiver ran through you, causing him to groan.

"Oh yeah, I know you'd fucking like that."

He flipped you onto the couch like you weighed nothing, instantly trapping you under the heat of his body. Being able to finally look into your eyes was exhilarating, your pupils wide, the fright in them a burning, living flame that made his stiff cock ache.

Gently, he brought an inked hand down to your face and pressed your cheek into the couch, steering your eyes back to the screen.

"Look. Look and tell me you haven't been rubbing that little clit and dreaming I could fuck you like this."

The little shallow breaths leaving you made his gaze fall down to your chest, the swell of your breasts visible through the low neckline of your shirt. He could feel his own pulse racing, his hand more rough than intended when it enveloped your neck.

"Come on, tell me I'm wrong, baby. Tell me you never made yourself come wishing I'd pin you down and give it to you good."

He leaned down, his hot breath fanning across your face.

You still didn't say a word. Moonstruck. That was how he felt. He needed to make you his more than he needed to breathe.

"Well?" He taunted, choking you harder. "Prove me wrong. Tell me you don't want me to slap you around and fuck you like a little whore, ignore your fucking whining and stuff you full of cum. Say it, baby."

All that left your throat was a weak, breathy whimper that made him want to bury himself inside you and wreck your tight, little cunt until your eyes rolled back and your throat ached from screaming.

But - there was no space for impatience in art. He released your neck in favor of slipping his hand in between your legs, pressing his fingers right into your panties.

A strained grunt slipped through his teeth when he felt the sticky, wet spot on them, your thighs flinching at the contact.

"Fuck."

You avoided his eyes, even though he could feel you seeking more of his touch, hips rolling subtly, chest trembling with each breath you took. He pressed his thumb into your clothed clit, for no more than a moment before he pulled his hand away entirely.

Although you tried to catch his wrist to stop him and get him back to where you needed him, you didn't complain. Like you were too terrified to speak, whether it was because of him or because of your own desires. Most likely both.

Cooing, he kissed your soft cheek.

"Now, there, you know how to be good when you want to, don't you?"

Cupping your face, he made you look back at him, staring right into your eyes when he closed the distance between you.

And yet, all he gave you was a ghost of a kiss, a touch that was barely there. It still made his heart thrum and his cock jump in his sweats.

"I'm gonna take care of you, baby," he breathed into your lips. "I'm gonna make all your dreams come true. I'll catch you someday when you're walking home and drag you into some filthy alley. And you can scream and cry and pretend you don't like it all you want if that makes you feel better about being a messed up, little slut. I hope you cry a lot."

A shiver ran up his spine at the soft sound that reached his ears. A moan. Short, quiet, shaky, full of mortification, but it was there.

The next sound was more familiar, a reminder of the constant ticking of the clock. A car pulling up into the driveway. Your parents were back.

Jungkook nudged your nose with his.

"Watch your back, little angel. I always know where you are."

With that, he pushed himself up and got off the couch, adjusting his sweats. He didn't spare you a glance, leaving you to scramble and try to gather yourself as the keys jingled on the other side of the door, shaky fingers trying to reach the remote to turn off the tv.

Jungkook had a problem of his own to solve for the night. He needed a long, cold shower.

And then just a little more patience. Patience made all the difference in art.

💌 taglist: @wonyuknow @baalsgurl1913 @imnotlauriane @bucketofhiros @osakis-gf @silv3rswirls

#don't ask bc i don't know #jungkook x reader #yandere bts #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts smut

851 notes · View notes

emira-addams · 2 months

Text

Hazbin Hotel - Carmilla x Rosie - The Devil is a Part-Timer

Chapter 01: Hell‘s Gates to City Gates

Miserably, Carmilla opened her eyes. She was lying on the ground, the hard earth pressing into her back and the damp grass soaking through her shirt. The damp fabric stuck to her body. A cold wind stung her skin, carrying the distant noise of shrill sirens and roaring cars to her.

"W-What... What happened?" Straining, Carmilla blinked against the bright light reflecting off the mirrored facades of the skyscrapers around her. A glazed veil blurred her vision and her world was spinning. The silhouettes of the trees hovered above her, their long fingers interwoven to form a protective roof against the dark shadows of the skyscrapers towering all around. Airplanes crossing the dark blue imitated shooting stars. The hellish horizon with its blood-red color was gone, the setting sun bathed this strange world in a golden glow.

Groaning, Carmilla sat up and looked around. "Where am I?" she whispered in confusion. Slowly, the spinning of her world subsided and the silhouettes of the trees grew first into half a forest and then into an entire park. An entire park with trimmed lawns, raked gravel paths and neatly lined up benches. She sat among the wreckage of one of these park benches.

"Ouch..." she grumbled under her breath as her hands brushed splinters of wood from her clothes. Suddenly Carmilla froze dead in her tracks, a horrified shriek followed. "My hands!" Mouth agape, Carmilla stared at her palms in disbelief. She now had a pair of ordinary hands, not giant paws. She had fine fingertips with nails painted black, no sharp claws… Like when she was alive...

"What by Lucifer has happened to me?" In disbelief, Carmilla twisted and turned her human hands in the fading light to take a closer look. Desperately, she tried to remember what had happened. The past few hours were a strange blur, her headache was unbearable and the last thing she could remember was the end of the last Overlord-Meeting. The topic had slipped her mind and all she could remember was that she was already packing up her things with the help of her daughters. With her feet on the tabletop, Velvette had decided to stay a bit longer after the meeting had already ended to annoy Carmilla. Suddenly there had been a knock at the door and Rosie was standing in the frame, this last memory followed blank blackness...

"H-Help..."

A pained outcry suddenly snapped Carmilla out of her thoughts. Hastily, she looked around. "H-Hello?" Carmilla asked cautiously as a bright blonde mess of hair emerged from the shadows of the trees. A woman struggled to her feet, her balance swayed precariously and she had to brace herself against the nearest tree trunk. Carmilla's eyebrows began to furrow in confusion. Strangely enough, the woman's features seemed quite familiar to her. Her hairstyle, her flowing dress and the whole way she moved, everything looked pretty fucking familiar to Carmilla.

"C-Carmilla?"

She didn't recognize her until she flashed her her signature smile. "Rosie!"

Instead of the black depths of her empty eye sockets, two beautiful sky-blue orbs now peered at Carmilla in surprise, while full pink lips curled into a relieved smile. Light blonde tousled curls hung in Rosie's face as she stumbled across the damp grass on clumsy feet and fell to her knees in front of Carmilla. "C-Carmilla? What's happened to you? Y-You look so... so different..."

Carefully, Rosie wiped the wavy strands of the long white hair from Carmilla's face and cupped her cheeks. Rosie turned her head from left to right and looked at her scrutinizingly with a very skeptical expression. "You look so..." She thought for a moment. "You look so human... and you're bleeding all over your face." Concern reflected in Rosie's expression as her fine fingertips ran gently over the many scratches on her face and Carmilla winced startled. "What's happened to you?"

"I bet you haven't had a chance to look in a mirror yet, Rosie," Carmilla whispered softly. A tingling sensation suddenly spread through the pit of her stomach as she gazed at Rosie's human form in entranced awe. She was truly beautiful and the touch of her warm hands left Carmilla's skin burning.

"What do you mean?" Rosie wanted to know, confused, when suddenly the deafening sound of a helicopter, its bright lights flashing over their heads, made her flinch violently in shock and she scooted closer to Carmilla on her knees, the damp grass leaving green stains on her dress. Rosie found the noise unbearable.

"M-Mom?" a faint voice called out.

This time Carmilla flinched, alarmed. "Clara?" muttered Carmilla in sudden shock. That had definitely been her daughter's voice, she was sure of it. She and Rosie were not alone. "Clara!" Carmilla quickly jumped up. Searching frantically, she looked around. "Clara, my baby, where are you?" she called back, her voice shaking.

"We're here, Mother!" a second voice called out.

"Hey, wait for me!" shouted Rosie.

Blindly, Carmilla rushed towards the direction of her daughters' voices, momentarily forgetting about Rosie. "Clara? Odette? Where are you?" Panic filled her voice and she looked around desperately. In the distance, between the dense trees and the growing shadows in the sunset, Carmilla recognized two figures. Her steps quickened more a more and finally she began to run.

"Here, Mom!" With a frightened expression, Clara clung to her sister's arm. Her knuckles shimmered white, so tight was her grip, while her nails dug mercilessly into the rough fabric of Odette's shirt. Her older sister waved their mother towards them.

"My girls, my babies..." Carmilla sighed with relief when she reached them. The worried mother quickly wrapped her two daughters tightly in her arms and hugged them close while Clara and Odette buried their faces in her shoulder.

"Are you both all right?" Carmilla wanted to know as they detached themselves from her embrace again. "Are you hurt?" They shook their heads while Carmilla looked them up and down very carefully under a very skeptical gaze. At first glance, nothing appeared to be wrong with them, but when Carmilla took a closer look, she noticed that both of her daughters were missing the black horns on top of their heads and their sclera was no longer deep red, but white. Clara and Odette now appeared like two ordinary teenagers.

"We're fine..." Odette mumbled monotonously. All her attention was focused on her mother's face. She tilted her head while her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Mother, you have blood all over your face..." she remarked. "Were we attacked?"

"I-" Carmilla's hands carefully wiped the dried blood from her cheeks, the exposed scratches underneath stinging slightly. For a moment, she stared at red liquid on her fingertips. "I don't know..." she admitted in defeat. "The last thing I remember is the end of the Overlord-Meeting and the next moment I'm waking up in the wreckage of a park bench in this place..." She sighed sadly. At least the assumption for the origin of her injury was more or less pretty obvious, but what had happened before that?

"Y-You're... pretty... pretty fast, Milly..." wheezed Rosie out of breath as she finally caught up to Carmilla. Breathing heavily, she propped her hands on her knees and gasped for oxygen. "Hey, kids... Good to see you all safe and sound..." she greeted Carmilla's daughters with a weak smile.

"Miss Rosie? You look so different!" Open-mouthed, Clara stared at the cannibal. "Where the Hell are we, Mom?"

Odette tilted her head thoughtfully. First she attentively examined Rosie's strangely human appearance from top to bottom, then that of her mother and sister. "I doubt we're in Hell at all" she pondered aloud.

"What do you mean, child?" Rosie demanded to know, her face contorted into an look of horror. "Where else are we supposed to be if we're not in Hell?"

"We're stranded on Earth..."

"Who-" Startled, Carmilla caught sight of the slender figure of a young girl struggling to rise from the wet mud of the nearby duck pond. Carmilla's eyes narrowed to slits. She looked familiar, with her voluminous hair, her two pigtails left and right and her smug look and- "Velvette!"

Despite her clothes stained all over with filthy mud and the duckweed hanging ungracefully in her hair, Velvette nodded proudly. "The one and only Velvette of the Vees is standing right in front of you. You are welcome to bow before me..."

"Ugh..." Carmilla groaned in annoyance. Of all the sinners in all of Hell, she had to be stranded on earth with Velvette...

"Hey, I'm also not really thrilled to run into you in this park by any chance," Velvette spat back.

"By chance?" Carmilla's teeth gritted. Her words tinged with spite as she clenched her hands into fists. "It just so happens that you refuse to leave the room only once after an Overlord-Meeting, even though you can't ever wait for it to end and are always the first to storm out of the room, and the next thing I know, the five of us wake up stranded on Earth. In my opinion, that's a very weird occurrence and if I find out that this is actually all your fault, that we're all stranded on Earth because of you, then I'll kill you myself-"

"Milly, please keep your temper," Rosie interrupted Carmilla's threat, while Velvette raised her hands and put on an innocent face. She gently placed her warm hand on Carmilla's shoulder. "Finger-pointing and fighting are definitely not going to get us anywhere now. Unless one of you has found a portal here in the park back to Hell, the five of us are inevitably stranded together. We have to stick together if we want to find a way back..."

Grossed out, Velvette grimaced and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You want me to work with her?" She stared stubbornly at Carmilla.

"Yes, we all have to work together..." Odette quickly intervened between her mother and Velvette before the two could get at each other.

"Stop your kindergarten drama now, apologize to each other and shake hands," Rosie demanded.

"Are you fucking mental?" Velvette tapped her forehead and flipped Rosie the bird. "I'm not apologizing to her."

"Excuse me, Rosie?" Carmilla stared at the cannibal in dismay, but Rosie merely crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave them both a very stern look. "I'm definitely not apologizing to Velvette!"

Rosie cleared her throat. "Come now, I've had enough of you two, apologize to each other and shake hands," she repeated her words, her voice low and her tone threatening and leaving no room for further protest. She eyed them both expectantly.

"Yes, Rosie..." Carmilla was the first to obey. "I'm sorry, Velvette." She held out her hand and Velvette took it.

"Me too... Sorry, Carmilla," Velvette replied. She rolled her eyes in annoyance as Rosie praised them in satisfaction. "What do we do now?" she wanted to know as Carmilla began to lead the small group across the grass to the park's front gate. The setting sun blinded them and Velvette had to shield her vision with her hand. The first lanterns came to life with an electric flicker.

"We'll blend in," Carmilla explained as they circled the duck pond. All of their appearances seemed strangely human in their reflection; they no longer looked like sinners from Hell. "We look like humans, so we'll act like humans. We will act as inconspicuous as possible until we find a way back to Hell."

Beyond the park's heavy iron gate, the main road and the deafening roar of rush-hour traffic welcomed them.

"How... do...?" Rosie mumbled half-heartedly. Fascination glittered in her eyes, overwhelmed, she turned on the spot and marveled open-mouthed at the bright neon colors and flashing lights of the big city, which formed a world of its own in the twilight. She had never experienced such centralization and technicalization in her lifetime.

"Help! We're under attack!" Pressing her hands over her ears in distress, Rosie heard an ambulance speeding down the street in front of them, its sirens blaring. The volume was unbearable. Blinded by the flickering blue light, she closed her eyes shut tightly. If Velvette hadn't grabbed Rosie by her collar in time and roughly yanked her back onto the sidewalk, she would have been run over by the ambulance.

Rosie choked on her collar while Velvette, pale with shock, scolded her. "You'd better watch out!" she complained in a huff.

Some pedestrians shot them skeptical stares.

"But I've never ever seen things like this in Hell!" Rosie croaked out with mixed enthusiasm. "This modern world is really fascinating..."

More and more pedestrians turned their heads curiously in their direction.

"Damn it, Rosie, lower your voice!" Velvette scolded, looking panicked around to the left and right.

"You'd better let go of Rosie before you accidentally strangle her, Velvette," Carmilla admonished the girl, when suddenly a young man approached Velvette with a polite smile on his lips.

"Excuse me, please," he quipped kindly. "I must confess that I inadvertently overheard your conversation and wanted to ask if you might need my help. Are you tourists and accidentally got lost?"

"Fuck off!" spat Velvette. "Leave us alone. We're doing really well on our own, thank you!" Before the young man could reply another word, Velvette had quickly pushed Carmilla and Rosie across the street, putting them out of earshot of an answer. Clara and Odette followed their mother like two well-behaved ducklings.

"What was that all about?" Carmilla asked, confused. She glanced back over her shoulder and the young man stood silently on the other side of the street, watching them dumbly as they quickly turned into a winding alley and followed the gray sidewalk. "You were really rude…"

Velvette shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know..." she grumbled, "But when that guy approached us out of nowhere, I suddenly got this weird feeling right in the gut of my stomach. Yeah, I fucking know this guy looked completely normal and just wanted to offer us his help, but there was this sudden gut feeling... Do you know what I mean?"

Odette nodded. "Yeah, I think I felt it too... It was like a bad premonition or something, like something was wrong with him..."

"Exactly!"

Clara shook her head. "Well, I didn't feel anything at all with that guy," she said, waving it off and calling her sister and Velvette more or less silly. "Maybe you guys simply didn't like him."

"You're not allowed to have a say in this, Clara, because your range of emotions fits on a teaspoon..." Odette grinned proudly, while Clara protested indignantly and Velvette patted her appreciatively on the shoulder for her joke.

"Odette... What was that about sticking together?" Carmilla reminded her eldest daughter in a stern voice as they continued to wander through the dark streets of the city without a destination. They passed a few rancid bars and crammed restaurants, the crowds grew bigger and the pushing and shoving unpleasant. Odette grimaced at her mother, while Velvette stuck her tongue out at Carmilla. Carmilla rolled her eyes.

"Maybe we should find somewhere to crash for the rest of the night," Rosie suggested, when suddenly a drunk man stumbled out of the entrance of a bar and straight in front of the cannibal's feet.

He looked up at her with a swimming stare as he staggered to his feet. "I hear you ladies need a place to sleep?" he slurred. A nasty smile lingered on his lips as he winked suggestively at Rosie and tried to touch her. His sweaty fingers gripped the fabric of her dress.

"Careful..." Carmilla growled lowly, clenching her fists and ready to fight. Clara and Odette quickly dug behind their mother, Velvette taking cover behind her as well.

"Let go of me now..." Rosie snarled viciously. She shuddered as his hand tried to move higher. "Don't you dare!" She grabbed his wrist roughly and twisted his arm behind his back. He cried out in pain as Rosie kicked him mercilessly in the crook of his knees and he fell to his feet in front of her. A dark desire reflected in Rosie's gaze, her stomach growling hungrily. Her fine fingertips ran over his cheekbones, a sharp smile on her lips. "I want you on my platter," she whispered in his ear. "I could make delicious jambalaya out of you."

"Help!" the drunk man shrieked, his voice full of fear as Rosie indicated biting off the fingers on his right hand.

Suddenly a throat clearing stopped her. "Do we have a problem here, ladies and gentlemen?" a uniformed policeman wanted to know as he appeared out of nowhere and posed in front of them. He scrutinized the drunken man at Rosie's feet with a questioning look. "Is everything all right with you?" he wanted to know from Rosie.

Slowly, Rosie glanced back and forth between the policeman and her next meal. "Yes, now that you're here, I am!" she announced cheerfully, flashing a broad smile at the policeman, who was looking at her very skeptically. She rudely let go of the drunken man's arm.

"That man tried to harass us and she merely put him in his place!" Carmilla also pushed Rosie protectively behind her. She gave the man on the ground a hatred-filled look.

"She's insane!" the drunken man screamed in panic. His eyes wide open, he gestured frantically with his arms and hands. "She wanted to eat me! Look, she bit my fingers!"

"Okay, that's enough," the policeman exclaimed, while Rosie shook her head and put on an innocent face. "Stand up, turn around and put your hands behind your back, you're under arrest."

"What?" the drunken man protested. "You can't arrest me! You have to protect me from this insane woman!"

"I promise you that you'll be safe from the lady in our sobriety cell at the station..." The policeman handcuffed the drunken man and led the furiously swearing man to his car. "I wish you ladies a pleasant night!" bid the policeman before forcing the man into the back seat and getting into the driver's side himself.

The white car started to move and Rosie looked after it longingly. "Too bad..." she sighed sorrowfully. "I'm still really hungry..."

Carmilla angrily turned to Rosie. "You'll never try to snack on pedestrians out in the open ever again!" she swore with a hiss. "That's the exact opposite of our plan of being subtle and inconspicuous!"

"Excuse me..." Sheepishly, Rosie scratched the back of her head. "I really didn't mean to get us into trouble, but I'm really hungry and I think your children are in desperate need of sleep."

"I'm definitely ready for bed..." claimed Odette, while Clara yawned demonstratively.

"Where are we going to sleep, Mom?"

"Uhm... I..." Exhausted, Carmilla massaged her temples, straining to think of a quick solution to their sleeping problem. Panicked, her eyes wandered up and down the street, bars and restaurants lined up one after the other and there were no alleyways or abandoned buildings to hide in. "I'm sure I'll find a solution for us before the night is over..." she promised through gritted jaws. She desperately tried not to let her uncertainty slip out in front of her daughters. They were shivering, and as darkness fell, so did the temperature at this season.

"We're sleeping here!" Suddenly Velvette proudly held a key card to a hotel room under their noses, which she had produced from one of the many compartments of a leather wallet.

"Where?" Rosie looked very skeptically at the small piece of plastic from all sides. "What's that?" she asked curiously. "What do you do with it?"

"It's a key to a warm hotel room with a soft bed, which I found in the drunk's wallet," Velvette explained.

"Where did you get his wallet?" Rosie seemed really interested in the plastic card, she took it from Velvette and examined it closely. "How do you unlock a lock with that?"

"Hotel rooms have electronic locks..." Velvette shrugged her shoulders. "The wallet accidentally fell out of the guy's jacket pocket when he dropped it at your feet. He was too scared of you to notice and I just- Hey, are you fucking crazy, Carmilla?"

Carmilla ignored Velvette's protests and took the wallet. "Well done," she praised her softly as she took out the bills and coins and pocketed them. "The cash will certainly be enough to pay for a cheap place to stay for one night."

"Pay for a cheap place to stay?" Velvette looked confused. "Hey, I know you're a bit older, Carmilla, but even you, despite your advanced age, should have figured out that our stay is free with this key card, right?"

Carmilla glared grimly at Velvette. "Your theft is already a high risk for us... I can't take the additional risk of simply occupying someone else's hotel room."

"I really don't want to question your authority as a leader or mother, Milly," claimed Rosie. "But we can't exactly sleep on the street and this guy will have to give up his claim to his room tonight anyway, he's already spending the night in a cozy sobriety cell at the police station..." She suppressed an amused giggle, while Clara and Odette nodded hastily and Velvette continued to ramble on about a soft bed. "I'm afraid you've been outvoted, Milly."

"All right," Carmilla grumbled. "We'll sleep in that hotel tonight..." she surrendered. Her daughters and Velvette cheered. "Traitor..." she sighed with a put-on pout at Rosie, while the cannibal shot her a widening smile.

"You’re welcome, Milly!"

46 notes · View notes

littlemarianah · 2 months

Text

WIP

How Katniss and Peeta chose their children's names

prologue of my fanfic in progress about Katniss motherhood. "The Flower and the Willow"

_________________________________________

My name is Katniss Everdeen.

My parents named me after a long-stemmed flower that grow on the edge of lakes. You will never starve if you find one of them. Its roots are sweet and juicy like a potato. The delicate and small white petals contrast with its arrow-pointed leaves.

My sister got her name from the Primrose flower. Different from katniss flower, primroses are everywhere. It has small petals, but its vibrant colors make it stand out among the undergrowth.

They chose beautiful names to decorate us with.

Beautiful things like the songs my father sang before I went to sleep.

Beautiful things like the colorful dresses my mother wore on Sundays.

Things that keep ourselves alive.

When my father stopped singing my mother stopped wearing her dresses. And then it was like she was dead too. That's when I realized that those things made us live.

Without the laughter, without the songs, without the hugs that my father gave me covered in dust from the mines, without the dresses, without the beautiful braids that my mother gave me and Prim. Without anything beautiful, without anything happy. We had nothing but hunger, cold and misery.

Peeta's parents had a similar idea. They chose their children's names from bread. Peeta, for a wheat bread that's as thin as a sheet and hollow inside. Rye, for a bread made with rye flour and very soft. Bran, for bread made with bran and molasses. Sweet in taste and brown in color.

It was kind of funny for a family of bakers to take their children's names from a cookbook, but they followed the same logic as my parents. Naming their children after the only thing that keep them together: work.

In the Mellark household no one had an empty stomach, but everyone woke up before sunrise to grind the wheat, sift the flour and heat the wood fire and work until night fell. Peeta once told me he never thought he would be the one to run the bakery. Her parents decided to have children to pass on the business to when they got old. The first was planned. The second was accidental, but useful in a world where your son could always go to games. The third was unwanted, but at least one more hand to work with.

Until shortly before giving birth I didn't know what name to choose. Peeta said he wanted me to decide, but nothing felt good enough. When I discovered I was a girl I started singing the lullabies my father always sang. I hummed them when I helped Peeta knead bread in the morning, I whistled them when I walked through the forest. Every time my head was empty, some new song came back to the surface. One day I found myself singing an old song that I had forgotten for a long time.

Deep in the meadow

Under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

For so many years I even banned myself from humming its melody, I preferred it to disappear from my memory completely.

All the little girls I had sung that song to were dead. But I got pregnant and I couldn't stop it anymore. It was a girl, I would have a daughter. Even with the horrible pain in my chest I wanted her to hear that song.

Here your dreams are sweet

And tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you

Deep in the meadow

Hidden far away

I chose Willow after that in honor of the willow tree in the song. Peeta liked it.

Two years later when I got pregnant with my second I gave Peeta a taste of his own medicine and made sure he chose the name. He spent hours listing names for me, looking for inspiration in books, names of important people. Until one day he put down the history books and picked up a recipe book. He flipped through the pages... sponge cake, carrot cake, cinnamon rolls... as if it was the first time he was reading it.

Even the recipes he made every day, like wheat bread from the bakery, he read again. He said he would wait until the baby was born to finally choose a name, but I had the impression he already had some ideas in mind. When Peeta took our boy in his arms he said he saw his brother Rye's eyes on him.

So, following the tradition of our families, our children's names are in honor of what is important to us.

Rye, a bread to satisfy our hunger.

Willow, a tree from an old song.

#WIP #the flower and the willow #the hunger games #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #fanfic #willow mellark #rye mellark #prologue #looking forward to posting this fanfic #some days who knows

28 notes · View notes

shirefantasies · 2 months

Note

Congrats on 300 followers! You’re definitely one of the best blogs and best writers on this site so well deserved! I wanted to ask if I could get a matchup, I have no preference for lotr or The Hobbit and I don’t have a gender preference either. I have short blonde hair, green eyes and I’m leaning on the chubby or curvy side. I love to create anything and everything, drawing, jewelry making, even tried knitting. I love puzzles, riddles and trivia games too. Besides all that I love to have a special cup of tea at the end of everyday.

I hope you recover well from your surgery and have a wonderful day! 🍄

OMG thank you so much for your amazingly kind comments 🥰 I love being here but words like these are definitely a big part of why I stay. Writing is truly a passion of mine so I’m so happy to hear that!

Also sweetheart I had to match you up with…

Bilbo!

This hobbit never expected to find love outside of the Shire…or at all! But fate has its own plans for us all, hence the hobbit choosing to take the adventure of a lifetime. Maybe after all more than one 😏 Gandalf hadn’t just enlisted one player in the big burglary after all. You were well-studied, clever, crafty, many things needed on a journey like Thorin Oakenshield was embarking on. Bilbo wasn’t looking for love, but when you pulled out your knitting needles what else would you expect?

You’re like a figure from a great Shire tale he’d read with that golden hair and those bright green eyes. Hobbits love curves, too, so you know he is blushing around you! His first questions are anything but forward, though, just wondering where you came from and how you know the grey wizard. Cue stories of the man’s fireworks bursting over the lake! You’ve never visited the Shire, but with every word Bilbo speaks your beautiful eyes widen in wonder and you gush that you’d love to see it and before he can help himself he’s blurting out that he could always show you around there after this whole mess is through. He even finds himself getting quite protective of you, snapping at the dwarves if they say anything that remotely upsets you and finding the courage to draw Sting the first time he sees an orc look your way.

Because you both enjoy riddles and puzzles, whenever you have free time or need to decompress on the road the pair of you find yourselves solving any you have and swapping them back and forth. When Bilbo plucks up the courage, he tells you how much of a comfort you are on this journey; he's spent all this time missing home and yet now he feels like he's found a new one. Somehow even being out in the woods is not so terrible! Your jewelry making is fascinating to the hobbit, so expect lots of questions about the process ranging from is it dangerous to what your favorite gemstone is. Perhaps he is secretly fantasizing about purchasing you a piece for you to keep...

The fact that you both love tea! Bilbo one hundred percent commits your special tea to memory, it does not matter how specific the blend is or if you put an odd amount of anything in it. Both of you could make each other’s perfect cup of tea in the dark. If your tastes are quite different, expect some tittering and head-shaking and general teasing, but you will get what you request every single time.

The look of deep concern in your eyes when the hobbit returns, the way you take him by the shoulders and tell him you thought he was lost, well…let’s just say the emotions get the best of you. Before the orcs catch up the dwarves whoop at the kiss you two yank each other into! When he does use the ring, you can sense the panic striking him when he returns and you go right to him, which he appreciates more than anything. One time you even noticed he looked a bit cold, like all the color was drained from him, so you wrapped him up and let him share in the warmth of one of your handmade scarves…and yourself, of course! He often uses the ‘you look cold’ excuse on you so that he can take your hands!

When the journey is up, all you want to do is go to the Shire, the desire burning in your heart stronger than anything, and who is Bilbo to deny what he also wishes? Years can go by and you never fail to make Bilbo’s heart flutter. The way you pull him into your kisses by his suspenders, the illustrations you add to his maps and letters you surprise him with, inspiring him to do the same. Having a wonderful and creative partner means he can have a cozy life at home in Bag End, yet it is still an adventure every day!

Taglist: @mossthebogwitch @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @pirate-lord-of-narnia @ibabblealot @joonies-word @stormchaser819 | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit matchups #bilbo #bilbo x reader #ask #anon #requested #💕 300 follower matchup event 💕#matchup monday

22 notes · View notes

aviationgeek71 · 11 months

Text

Sunset Over the Y Bridge

It's funny to hear residents of Zanesville, Ohio, call the Y Bridge, "world famous," when most of the world has never even heard of Zanesville; however, to their credit, it's a very unique and beautiful bridge. It's so unique, in fact, that Amelia Earhart once quipped that Zanesville is "the most recognizable city in the country" because of how easy it was to identify from the air.

This marvel of engineering was first proposed by the Ohio General Assembly in 1812. Their charter was to build a bridge connecting the towns of Putnam, Natchez, and Zanesville, all of which resided on different banks of the confluence of the Licking and Muskingum rivers. These towns eventually combined to form the city of Zanesville.

While the bridge was finally opened to traffic in 1814, the original limestone and wood structure has been rebuilt many times throughout history because of flooding between the two rivers. The fifth iteration of the bridge was completed in the Fall of 1984 and still stands today.

As the sun continued its descent, shadows gradually encased the beautiful history of my surroundings. Only the sounds of local traffic and the friendly banter of fishermen kept me company.

The final moments of color were my beacon to leave. Since it's hard work chasing sunsets, 😉 it was time for a cherry stout from the local Y Bridge Brewery. 🍻

#sunset chaser #sunsets #y bridge #my photography #my writing #Zanesville #ohio #original photography on tumblr

68 notes · View notes

29625 · 18 days

Text

Forensic artist! Slider x FBI investigator! Mav AU WIP I’ve been hatching for a while.

Inspired by the UID community and its talented volunteers and professionals who contribute to the beautiful, humanizing facial reconstruction of some of the decedents! The case isn’t particularly based on the real event but rather a creation of a mish-mash of many different cases as well as fictional details.

Paring: Slider x Maverick, with forensic sculptor! Ice and FBI investigator! Goose.

Rating: Teen and up for now. Might throw some sexy stuff later.

Warning: graphic description of violence, dead body & suicide (no major character death). Very inaccurate description of how law enforcement works in the US (I’ll fix it later! Sry! Please let me know if there are something you’re familiar with because that’d help a lot!)

In 1991, a case reopens in San Diego, California. The case where a White woman aged between 30-45 was found deceased in a wooded area with a gunshot wound in her head in 1978.

She was not facially recognizable with decomposition and animal activities, as well as the wound inflicted by the impact of close proximity gunshot. A medical examination concluded she had large amount of alcohol and some sleep medicine in her system at the time of her death, possibly making her disoriented, and the purse containing her personal belongings left at the scene had a empty bottle of pills whose label had been scratched off.

She cut all tags off from her clothes which consist of a polka dot summer dress, a pair of white heeled sandals (size 5), blue bra and a white underpants with laces, all found on the decedent’s body except for one of her sandals, possibly due to animal activities as observed in her post-mortem scars on her right leg. She was approximately 5’ to 5’3 inches tall and weighed about 140 lbs. She had fair complexion with chin-length red hair, naturally straight and styled curly, but the advanced state of her decomposition hindered the examiners to determine her eye color.

The location she was found is close to the region where prostitutes and hitchhikers frequent and she is theorized to be particularly familiar with the area, suggesting she had been working in sex trade in San Diego area.

Even though she carried no ID or tax stamps, receipts, or credit cards with her at the time of her death, a possible clue to her identity was found in her purse, which is a piece of paper (approx. 4 inches wide and 1.6 inches long) with the message following:

I love you so much Jannie/Jennie/Jamie (the exact words differ depending on the sources) .

I can’t be there anymore but I’ll always love you & wish you the best.

To people this may concern Im [sic] sorry for every-thing [sic]. xxxx

The message was scribbled with a blue-ink pen, but it lacked her signature and nobody with the name in the letter has come forward after the initial information was released in California region.

It is theorized that the person in the letter is either her friend, family (possibly a sibling or a husband) or her child, who she might have been estranged with at the time of her death.

No foul play is suspected in her case and her death has been concluded as a suicide by gunshot.

“….And we’re renewing her facial approximation, which hasn’t been updated since the initial discovery.” Pete scans the case file containing the composite—a basic photomontage. Her silent face is devoid of any emotions he can tell right away, frozen in time, something he’s so used to seeing. “Right. Well, we gotta contact Tom about this.”

Tom Kazansky from Los Angeles Police Department. He’s a forensic anthropologist who specializes in sculpture. A great contributor of his and Nick’s cases with an ice-cold precision, he’s also been a close friend of them—with his great dedication for his job and his deadbeat sense of humor.

“About that.” Nick interjects. “I don’t think we can, Pete. Or we should, for that matter.”

“Why not?” Pete asks, slightly frustrated but mostly surprised at the statement. “We’re lacking a good reconstruction and he’s the best candidate we’ve ever got.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Nick says with a small shrug. “But he’s on a family leave, remember?”

Oh.

Oh, right. Now he remembers.

“Good for him, yeah?” Nick smiles. “A kid is such a bundle of joy. I still think of the day Brad came home with my sweetest wife whenever I’m feeling low.”

“Shit, Nicky.” Pete groans as he rubs his face with his hand. Maybe two months without a break really does something to his memory. “I can’t believe I forgot that, man. I even sent some gifts for him back in October.”

“Workaholic.”

“Yo, shut up.”

He playfully smacks Nick’s head as they leave. The perk of having a witty partner is he never gets bored at work—with a side effect of never getting a break.

Finding another forensic artist was, to his surprise, a smooth process. Tom has assigned a substitute while he was away, taking care of his wife and his newborn baby girl.

Ron Kerner.

A forensic artist at LAPD, working in Tom’s lab. His portfolio shows a series of drawings of people. He seems to have worked on both the composites of criminals and victims, with him predominantly working on the identification of latter.

Flipping through the thick file, he reaches to the section titled ‘John & Jane Does’. And—damn, how lively and colorful those portraits are.

They are all smiling, some of their grins are wider than others with a more sly-looking expression. There are four comparisons between a then-unidentified person and their living photos, and Ron seems to have captured their unique facial features on point while…humanizing them, however tragic their last moments may have been.

Talented, indeed. Pretty empathetic, he might add. No wonder Tom has assigned his role to him.

“Bradshaw!”

A voice echoes in the hall as they finish talking to the receptionist. Nick turns around and waves back with a big grin on his face.

The man stands in front of them. He’s muscular, slightly shorter than Nick yet still way taller than Pete himself. Towering, but his relaxed stance makes him seem friendly, combined with the toothy grin on his angular face. His curly brown hair complements his tanned skin. Judging from the way he presents himself, Pete assumes he’s not a visitor here.

“Hey bud!” Nick says and shakes hands with the man. “Still dwelling in the lab, huh?”

“Oh you shut your pretty mouth, dickhead.” He chuckles almost affectionately.

“Pete, this is Ron. Ron Kerner from LAPD. Ron, this is Pete. Pete Mitchell.”

Ron Kerner.

The man looks at Pete and reaches out his hand, which he’s quick to shake.

“I really liked your portfolio.”

Pete mutters almost instinctively as he shakes his hand, realizing how awkward he sounds a moment later. Ron looks at him with slightly widened eyes, curiosity flickering in his beautiful hazel irises.

“Uh, I mean…I’m Pete Mitchell. Call me Pete.”

“Thanks.” Ron says with a smile with a tinge of shyness on the corners of his droopy eyes, although well-concealed by his bold voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pete. Tommy always talks about you guys.”

“Yeah.” Pete answers as their hands part, leaving a pleasant warmth on his cold skin. “Pleasure to meet you, too, Mr. Kerner.”

“Hey, Ron’s just fine.” He says. “We’re about the same age, right? Don’t make me feel old.”

“You can call him Ronnie if you want, Pete.” Nick says. “Bet you’ll get along just fine. He’s just as immature as you.”

“What did you say, jackass?”

Their eyes shot at each other as their voices almost synchronize, much to Nick’s amusement.

“Damn it, Nick!”

“Shit, Bradshaw.” Ron mutters at Nick’s smirking face that Pete’s so familiar with at this point of his career. “Let me be cool and act like an adult in front of this guy, alright?”

“Ha! Jokes on you, Kerner. You’ve already said dickhead like you always do.” Nick teases. “C’mon, Pete. You think he’s mature? With his taste in jokes like that? Betcha get along well, darling. Already in synch.”

Ron pouts at Nick with a small pfft sound, a gesture he didn’t think a guy this big could pull off.

“Get along well, huh?” Pete chuckles, lightly patting Ron on the shoulder.

“Great start, I guess.” He grins. “Though I can’t wrap my head around how you tolerate this bastard.”

“Me neither, man.”

Ron barks out a laugh as Nick pokes Pete on the arm, grumbling at how the table has turned.

Ron Kerner.

Today was the first time they’ve met. He’d been faceless to Pete for almost a month, ever since they first called in the most basic business-like manner, talking about grown-up stuff, in contrast to the almost overwhelming amount of portraits he sent him.

“Hey, Nick?”

“What?”

“Can you see an artist in his own work?”

Nick blinks a little, his eyes briefly shot up from the road. They are on their way to go back to their office in his car, idly listening to the local radio as the town passes.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Pete stretches his arms and loops them around the headrest. “It’s weird, I know.”

“I thought you lost your mind and decided to be a philosopher instead.” Nick says. “But I guess you can.”

“How?”

A few seconds of silence filled the car before Nick speaks, absentmindedly stroking his mustache.

“A part of your soul leaves your body to live in the world of your art, forever.” Nick mutters. “I don’t know, Pete. That’s just how I feel. A part of me becomes something not mine, and he dances with the music as I play it.”

Pete can only nod in response. Nick has always been enthusiastic about music. Tom has been artistic, too. He’s a professional artist as well as being a full-time officer, for God’s sake.

“I guess that’s true for Ron, y’know.” Nick says. “Considering the subjects he deals with daily.”

His fingers skim through the pictures. A Black teenager with shoulder-length braids, grinning widely in her denim overalls. A middle-aged Hispanic man with a box of tobaccos in his hand, smiling softly. One of the portraits depicts a woman and a child, possibly her son, chin-up and looking serene together in the wind.

“Ron’s a good guy, Pete.” Nick smiles and shoots a knowing gaze at his partner in the passenger seat. “I wasn’t joking when I said you’d get along.”

“Yeah.” He answers, lowering his eyes in approval. “I suppose so.”

He closes the file and traces the black lettering on the back of it.

Ron Kerner, it says.

Lined in ink, detailed with colored pencils and some markers. Pete can still feel the strokes of his pencils under his fingertips.

#slimav #ron slider kerner #top gun fanfiction #slider x maverick #top gun 1986 #pete maverick mitchell #ao3 writer #Forensic artist! AU #Sorry for any inaccuracies #my parents used to binge watch Criminal Minds and ER and that’s pretty much the only exposure to police/medicine things #also I think Mac Taylor from CSI NY is an absolute sexy king don’t judge me #tom iceman kazansky #nick goose bradshaw #a deep dive into my thoughts on how resentful I am for Rick never getting enough screen time he deserved

10 notes · View notes

sotcwcrp · 4 months

Text

SECRETS OF THE CLANS, JANUARY OPENING!

In celebration of our January 14th - January 28th opening, we're going to be highlighting each of the clans, to give you a better idea of what they're like / how different they are from the books!

Today's clan is...

Thunderclan

ART CREDITS: carnationcarnivore on discord!

❗Important note! Thunderclan is only SEMI-OPEN to new members! They will only be allowing in member whos specifically request TC on our membership application.

A spark comes to life in the depths of your chest. Arcing over a pumping heart and electrifying your very soul. Paws clobber the forest floor as a voltage races through those veins. Looking above, a series of pelts are crawling on trunks and flying across tree limbs after bushy squirrels. The sky rumbles with the admonition of an incoming storm, your ears perk at the chance of being doused by the thrumming rain. Keep up, now!

To be your eyes into Thunderclan Territory, Harrierkit a Thunderclan kitten is here to interview some of his clanmates! Take it away Harrierkit!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"So, what's Thunderclan's territory like?"

"Oh, it's quite marvellous! With so many trees and woods that go on for miles and miles! The sound of birds chirping and singing songs of beauty! Trees so tall you could reach the clouds and stars. And! Oh my, I'm getting ahead of myself little one. For seeing the territory with eyes of your own, is what I call an amazing first experience." - Lionhoney

Thunderclan's territory is an impenetrable woodland, decorated with dense foliage that's easy to get lost in. Ferns and thorny-thickets twist at every curve and low hanging branches promise to snag an unfamiliar cat's pelt. To those who have learned its navigation, the forest floor is an oasis to skittering bugs and nests of curious prey. Above your head lays a maze of tangled branches, rising to towering heights and spanning across the full length of the forest, those daring can venture across abandoned twoleg bridges or find themselves in a nasty fight with sharp-toothed red squirrels. The labyrinth of foliage and the web of branches overhead are so different as to almost be their own territories, but they interweave with one another in a timeless dance. The Hearthborn twisting and turning through thickets and the Timbered flying through branches with the sun on their "wings" have very different experiences with the territory, but both are so characteristically ThunderClan.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"What's the best place in our territory? Go lots' into detail please!"

"My favourite spot on ThunderClan territory is our Sacred Oak. I've adored looking up to it ever since I was a kit. It represents the past and my--our--future. Something magical is in that bark, and I swear it glows beneath the light of the moon. It holds secrets and stories and success. I plan to be part of it one day." - Foxleap

The Sacred Oak truly is magnificent; a tall, ancient tree, it is said that StarClan struck the tree with lightning to symbolize their approval of Thunderstar. All leaders from Thunderstar to Bugstar have had their pawprint carved and painted on the Sacred Oak, and on the reverse side, lovers have left their intertwined paw carvings as well, immortalizing their devotion to each other. The grand tree symbolizes ThunderClan's love, both the love between cats and the love of the leaders for their Clans.

But the Sacred Oak is far from the only notable landmark; ThunderClan has plenty of others across its large stretch of forest. The vibrant grove of berry branches, speckled with vines of multi-colored berries that lay through the trees and litter the ground below. Hidden away, by the edge of the territory lies a secret meadow, canopied by tightly knit trees and lush with tall-standing flowers and untouched grass. Daring timbered warriors can find themselves in the well-structured twisted canopy, an entire separate world above the floor! And to those in Thunderclan more adverse to the risk-taking heights, a muddy coliseum welcomes any cat for a good spar, though-- make sure you don't come back to camp all muddy by taking a leisurely dip in ThunderClan's flooded meadow!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Hey! Can you tell me a story 'bout something that happened in Thunderclan?"

"I remember when Silkshimmer, my apprentice, caught her first piece of prey. She had a bit of trouble gettin' the hang of huntin', and it was really takin' a toll of her self esteem. But, one day, we're out in the trees and the next thing I know she was leapin' through the trees like she had wings. I barely blink and suddenly she found herself with a crow beneath her claws. I'll never forget the way she smiled." - Robinfeet

A mentor is one of the most vital figures in a young apprentice’s life, and apprentices often come to see their mentors as a form of family. Aside from just training their apprentice, mentors offer general life advice, a shoulder to cry on, a sympathetic ear, and an extra set of paws to help with whatever their apprentice is crafting at the moment, whether it’s a present for a loved one or their personal set of bark armor. When apprentices graduate, they wear their bark armor and colorful pawstains up to the highrock, and it’s frequently their mentors that help them put on their festive attire for their big day. When the crowd bursts into thunderous cheers once the warrior ceremony concludes, the mentors will cheer the loudest, and many of them cry. Mentor-apprentice bonds frequently last far beyond graduation, and Silkshimmer and Robinfeet’s connection is no exception. The two of them are still inseparable, even though Silkshimmer’s grown so much since her apprentice days and now has an apprentice of her own: young Ivypaw, who’s missing a foreleg, just like her! In fact, once a mentor’s apprentice receives an apprentice of their own, ThunderClan cats recognize them as a grandmentor. If mentors are frequently as close to apprentices as their parents are, grandmentors are then like grandparents; while not primarily involved with the apprentice’s training, they typically like to take an interest and check in with the youngster from time to time. Cats can often trace their “mentor lineage” just as well as they can track their family lineage, and these mentor-apprentice ties connect all of ThunderClan together, making the Clan feel like one big family.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"M' lucky to be in the best clan in the forest, what's our culture like compared to the others?"

“M-My mentor Cicadaskip just taught me this, and I think it’s really cool… U-Um, Timbered warriors of Thunderclan have a sort of secret code that they use to communicate with one another! We mimic the sounds of different bird calls, and then use them to warn other T-Timbered warriors about things like prey, clanmates, enemies… I-It’s really neat! I haven’t mastered all the calls y-yet, but I will one day! I just need to focus on making the calls more round, like Cicadaskip told me to!” - Amurpaw

ThunderClan loves to delve into the world around them and celebrate every little bit that the forest throws at them. The Timbered language is no exception, as it was born from their appreciation for the complex symphony of birdsong greeting them from sunrise to sunset. In fact, all of ThunderClan’s culture comes from embracing the forest’s gifts and displaying them to the world, with all the pride of a beautiful bird flaunting its feathers. With the abundance of berries, flowers, and other bright natural dyes found in the forest, ThunderClan cats often sport multi-colored looks, especially in certain patterns called pawstains. Their love of painting extends past their fur and onto physical objects as well, especially the bark armor they craft throughout their apprenticeships. Wood is one of the most valuable crafting staples for ThunderClan cats, but not all wood is created equal! After so many years of relying on and studying the trees surrounding them, the tree types grew to have characters of their own, from the quaking yet courageous aspen to the circles of ash keeping each other safe. ThunderClan cats even have their own version of astrology called arbology, which relates to different tree types and is used for light-hearted superstition and fuels many discussions during apprentice sleepovers. All-in-all, ThunderClan cats are spirited, bright, and as loud as the storms they celebrate, and they’ll always be deeply connected to the forest that shelters them.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"I think the council's really cool, what do you think, Withercall?"

“The council of Thunderclan has always been incredible. From the moment that me and my siblings entered the forest, they have been welcoming of us, giving us warmth, prey and kindness. The council do what they can for our clan, keeping us safe and fed… Especially the healers! Please do go see my dearest sibling Lunarlynx if you ever have any ailment. She will fix you right up, and make sure you feel even better than you did before!” - Withercall

ThunderClan's council is as dynamic and interconnected as the forest itself! From Raintansy's rebellious ideals to Lavenderdream's gentle, thoughtful nature, each cat in the council brings unique aspects and diverse perspectives to the table, and their relationships run as deep as ravines. As leader of ThunderClan, Bugstar is known to be reserved in relation to the rest of the council, but he never hesitates to make a quick decision when the Clan is in need, while his deputy, Daisyfang, is known for consulting many before determining her next move. Among the healers, although some may be closer than others, their connection to one another has grown throughout every trial and tribulation they have faced together, and they would trust one another with their lives. Merlinheart and Snowdapple are mates and are currently watching their kits, now apprentices, experience life and grow into their own pelts. Having trained beneath the two in the midst of crisis, Skyhunter and Raintansy have formed an unbreakable bond that travels well beyond words, and Lavenderdream and Lunarlynx—the Clan's newest healers—lean upon one another in every moment of doubt, always trusting that the other will catch them if they fall. Not only that, but all of the healers' kits view the other healers as their healer auncles, always looking out for them at every turn! Overall, while their strong, varying opinions may cause them to butt heads at times, there is no doubt about how much each cat on ThunderClan's council cares for their Clan.

#sotcwcrp #wcrp #discord wcrp #warrior cats #thunderclan #warrior cats rp

11 notes · View notes

jjsuper1 · 1 year

Text

Being Punk

What do you call it when you enjoy aspects of different cultures, but want to blend? Solarpunk seems to be going through some political ideology shakeup, which is unfortunate, and that set me to think about what aspects I enjoy from each punk culture.

Steampunk - My first love.

Years ago, I fell in love with the mechanical nature of Steam, and the punk movement associated with it. Being a mechanic, engineer, and gear head, I naturally involved myself in those aspects of the culture. I even explored some dress from the period. However ludeness crept in, as it usually does. I don’t care for scantly clad damsels with their various body parts hanging out of victorian lace. That’s a problem of the 21st century lens we view things through, not of the culture itself. I’ll stick to gears and turbines, you can have the boobies.

Dieselpunk - my true love

Art Deco, its design langue and use of streamline is a natural progression of technology, and drive for speed. Luckily there is far more clothing in this culture, and while I understand it was born from war, it doesn’t necessarily have to live inside a tank. Steam and internal combustion existed side by side for many years. We all know what killed the steam car, but there’s nothing wrong with the aesthetic.

Cyberpunk - my future love

Neon desperation is great. We currently live in that future dystopia, just less colorful. My generation, the ones that grew up with the advent of the internet, understand how to do tasks without the net, or devices. We can live without electricity, and can usually repair a good amount of found items to accomplish whatever task. While we may not be as fast as the latest generation 12 year old, we can get there. Boobies have returned, and there are far too many aspects of ludeness here that I just don’t enjoy. So many different paths in this culture mix and blend to create that all too prevalent hi-tech, low-life atmosphere. We are all poor.

Solarpunk - the unknown love

I want solarpunk to be something it may not ever become. I want it to be what I am now. I want a steam boiler powered by solar generated electricity, managed by AI, and shaped in a beautiful steel and wood form inspired by Art Deco streamlining. I want to be able to control by steam devices from my phone. I want to be able to generate steam by using passive solar heating. I want my diesel backup generators to be able to run when world war III darkens the sky. And I want my steam boiler to run with the coal made from the ashes of the fallout. I want my digital devices to be able to make analogue content..

But here’s the thing. I want a culture that understands I get up early and go to bed early. Cyberpunk really only works at night, for some reason. Solarpunk really only works during the day. Steampunk has been manipulated into something far beyond what I would have thought, and dieselpunk’s are in perpetual war. Its difficult to find hope in any of that. I want to be able to support people from all walks of life. Come to my farm: we have food, and 480v three phase. We have fuel, can repair your 1902 steam car, and replace the solar cell in your phone

So, what would you call it, blending these different cultures into something meaningful for at least one person. Do you blend cultures, or are you firmly set in one genre? Would love you hear your thoughts.

#steampunk #dieselpunk #cyberpunk #solarpunk #culture #genre #steam #mechanic #cyber rants #hope #humanity #love #thoughts #analog #digital

58 notes · View notes

trytofic · 7 months

Text

In the Woods

Some more on the fairy prompt <3 I will post all of these! I swear it! So I might just be a little into November lol

Ao3

Day 24: In the Woods

The fae are her friends, right?

Her voice was so melodic as she made her way through the woods. There was a friend she was excited to see. The flowers were beautiful this time of year. She skipped through the ring of mushrooms with a heavy bag on her back. As she made her way through the colors around her seemed to shift, almost more of a green hue, unlike at night she had originally met her new friend. She had noticed during the past few months her roses had grown stronger and fuller. The trees in the area that grew fruit were plentiful.

“Oh, Shadow!” Her voice sang out to the trees. She giggled when she felt the temperature slightly dip. “I have some new books! And plenty of snacks!” She walked to a tree and sat the bag down and the shadowy fae appeared before her, slowly forming into his hedgehog form.

“Hello, Miss Rose.” He nods his head.

“Oh, you know the formalities aren't necessary. Come see what I’ve brought this time!” He sat in front of her as she took out coffee beans and cookies. His tail immediately made its way to the beans and he slowly began to eat. She explained the plot of all the books she brought. Several murder mysteries, historical novels, romance, and a few adventure novels. Shadow’s eyes sparkled at every option available to him.

Since their meeting and Amy’s insistence on being friends, Shadow had found a love of literature. Though there were many things Amy needed to explain, he loved to read and have her read to him so he could hear the creativity of average mortal beings. There were a million different scenarios and he was fascinated with it all. He knew of the stars but to see how technology developed to have mobian reach them was impressive.

“Do you have any favorites out of these?” His voice echoed and his teeth made a loud crunch of the coffee beans.

“Hmm. I’ve always been a fan of romance, but the murder mystery genre has caught my attention much more lately.” She grabbed a cookie and pushed a few of the books she had read before toward him. Shadow was enraptured by her summaries of the books she had read and gently grabbed one. He carefully picked it up, careful with his claws.

“Do you suppose you could read some of the romance books to me like last time?”

“Of course! Oh, there are some of these that are so sweet! I love the drama in this one!” She began to ramble, yet Shadow's eyes never left her form. A cookie in hand and excitement shining from his eyes. He loved how trusting she was and how much she shared with him. But when there was a sudden wind in the air Shadow took to his feet and eyed the trees.

“Shadow?” Amy fell back against the tree behind her. “What's wrong?”

“Someone is here.” Shadow let out a soft hiss to try and figure out which of his kind had found him. There was a strong breeze yet the smell of spices permeated his nose. “Enough! Come out Scourge!”

A thud to the forest floor caused Amy to gasp when she saw the hedgehog in front of them. He was bright green in color with scars along his chest. His eyes were bright blue yet there was a red aura around him. There was a heat that Amy could feel coming off his body even several feet away. Shadow’s tail flicked and his eyes narrowed at Scourge.

“Well, well, well!” The hedgehog let out a dry chuckle. “You found a little mortal friend. Is she just a toy or can I have a bite?” He took a step closer and Amy tried her best to shrink into the tree.

“Enough! Why are you here? She causes no harm to our home!”

“Oh, I know that. But our Queen is not happy she is here.” He took steps towards Shadow and the shadows around him began to appear, his size began to change and Scourge finally began to shake.

“You need to leave us now!” His voice growled so much the leaves shook from the trees and his shadows billowed around Scurge. “Unless you truly want to fear my shadows, you will leave.”

As Shadow stared down at Scourge his shadows dispersed when there was a gentle touch to his tail. Yellow eyes trailed downward to see Amy’s hands gently petting him. She was so soft and warm. As his eyes closed he slowly began to shift down and Amy took her hands back. When he was their size Amy put her hand on his arm. He began to calm down and Scourge chuckled.

“Maybe next time, when you’re a little less grumpy.” He covered his mouth and kept up his laughter. “And you” His eyes met Amy’s. “You should be careful while in the woods.” The heat and wind surrounded them and when Scourge was out of their vision, he disappeared just as quickly as he had first appeared.

#shadamy #shadamytober #shadamytober2023 #sonic the hedgehog fanfiction

10 notes · View notes

catierambles · 1 year

Text

Null Ch.1

Pairing: Incubus!Charles Brandon x Anna Williams (OFC)

WC 1747

Warnings: There will be themes of sex and sexuality throughout the entire story. This is a blanket warning. Minors DNI 18+ ONLY. As for this chapter, spicy dreams and non-sexual ghostly touching.

@brattymum96 , @ouroboros113 , @peaches1958 , @summersong69 , @henryownsme , @fvckinghenrycavill

She expected it to be cold. House this size, this old, up on a hill, having been unoccupied for as long as it has, it should be cold. It should be drafty as hell. It wasn’t. It was warm, almost comfortably so, reminding her of a hot bath or a blanket fresh from the dryer. The air was still but not stagnant, there was no smell of dust or rot, and the house itself felt…amused? Intrigued? Hard to say, but it didn’t feel empty, even though she knew it was. Anna had bought the house without ever having stepped foot inside it, having seen pictures of it online and instantly falling in love with the gothic architecture, the many beautiful windows that let the sunlight in gorgeously, and let’s be honest, its isolated location away from the town itself. She liked her privacy and seeing as her job was one hundred percent remote, she didn’t have to worry about leaving her new home unless she needed to. Then again, even groceries could be delivered these days. A bit of a shut-in? Maybe, but that was her life and she was comfortable with it.

Its price had been…surprisingly low. Almost too low and it made her wonder what was wrong with it. Mice in the attic? Termite damage? Crumbling foundation? Faulty wiring and plumbing? The real estate agent she had spoken to had assured her that none of those things were the case and the house was completely up to code and move-in ready. Why was it empty for so long then? That question had been handily ignored and while Anna found it a tad suspicious, it wasn’t enough to make her rethink her decision. Not everyone liked gothic architecture.

The town itself at the bottom of the hill was small, close-knit, an “everybody knew everybody” kind of place so her arrival was quickly noted. She stopped at the diner upon coming into town ahead of the moving trucks to grab something to eat, the waitress asking her if she was just passing through.

“No, I actually just bought a house here.” Anna said.

“Oh! Where?”

“That one on the top of the hill, The Addams Family lookin’ one.” She said and there was a pause.

“Oh.” The waitress said, her professionally jovial demeanor dampening somewhat.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No, nothing is wrong. It’s just…it’s been a while since anyone has lived there, is all.” She said, “Old superstitious stories that it’s haunted, local college kids daring each other to spend the night in it, that kind of thing.”

“Well if they try now, they’re going to get surprised that the doors and windows are actually locked, the hooligans.” She said and the waitress gave a small laugh, her demeanor returning.

“I’ll get the kitchen started on your food right away. Welcome to the town.”

“Thank you.”

The moving trucks had been pulling up right as she was in the circular driveway and she let them in, propping the front door open. Once the couch had been brought in, she sat down on it, propping her feet up on a moving box as she scrolled through her phone, answering questions from time to time on where she wanted things placed. It was a five-bedroom, three-bath kind of place, bigger than she actually needed, but with a price that low and architecture that gorgeous, she hadn’t been able to say no. Lord knew everything in her actual size range was way too expensive. Stupid seller’s market. The warmth of the place instantly put her at ease and she found herself enchanted by the way the sunlight came in through the stained glass windows, casting colors and shapes onto the dark wood floors. Pictures were one thing, seeing it in person had a whole different effect. The waitress's words about the house being supposedly haunted made absolutely no sense. It wasn’t cold or foreboding, things stereotypically associated with ghostly activity. Anna felt like the house…wanted her here, and was glad of her presence if a bit intrigued by it. Whatever, it was just a feeling. She wasn’t a medium and didn’t claim to have psychic abilities of any kind, though she was skeptically optimistic when it came to the paranormal and supernatural.

But as she sat there on the couch scrolling through her phone, she suddenly got the feeling that she wasn’t alone on it and it made her look up from the screen. Looking over, she fully expected to see someone sitting next to her, staring at her, but the couch was empty and she gave herself a little shake, turning her attention back to the screen.

“Ms. Williams?” She heard and craned her head back, seeing one of the movers standing there with a box.

“Yeah?” She asked.

“Where did you want us to put the books?”

“Uh…sorry to tell you this because I know they’re heavy, but there’s a study on the third floor if you could put them there?” She said and he gave her a quick nod. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay, Ms. Williams.” He said with a chuckle, “It’s what we get paid for.”

“Feel free to help yourselves to the case of water in the kitchen!” She said as he walked away with the box.

“Thank you!” He called back as he climbed the stairs, relaying the location to the other movers. Oddly enough, the master bedroom on the third floor had come fully furnished with a massive four-poster bed frame made of heavy wood and matching dressers and armoire. As such, she took pity on the movers and had them put the bedroom furniture from her old place in one of the other bedrooms on the ground floor, only having them carry her mattress up to the master.

It was late afternoon by the time everything was moved in and she settled up with the movers. Game plan: work from top to bottom, master bedroom, and bathroom first, then the study, and then work her way down to the kitchen. Would she stick to that plan? Probably not, but it never hurt to have one in place. They had kindly put the mattress actually on the bedframe instead of just leaning it against the wall and she sat down on it, looking around at the boxes of clothes and other bedroom items. Laying back on the bed, she covered her face with her hands and made a complaining noise, kicking her feet slightly. Her hands left her face, however, as she thought she heard a low chuckle and she looked around, but of course, the room was empty. She lay there for a little while longer and again, she felt like she wasn’t alone. There was a closeness to the feeling like someone was laying next to her on the bed, watching her and there was…something, the sensation of fingertips ghosting down her arm and she rubbed at her skin as the feeling faded.

Okay, maybe this place was haunted.

Shaking herself out of it again, she hoisted herself up and got off the bed, starting to unpack her clothes, putting them in the dresser or hanging them up in the armoire. That took only about an hour, but the study she knew would not be so quick, given the number of books she had. Thank goodness for built-in bookshelves.

Anna unpacked and organized until she felt like she was going to collapse, getting the study done and the bathroom sorted the way she liked it. It was nighttime by the time she called it quits and she thought about ordering food, but she really wasn’t that hungry. She was making the bed, the lamp on her nightstand turned on, and filling the room with a pleasant golden glow. The fitted sheet fought her, because of course it did, and when she flung the top sheet up in the air to lay it out, she thought she saw a figure through the pale fabric, illuminated by the light. Her heart pounded in her chest just once, but when the sheet fell to the mattress, there was no one there.

Okay, this place was definitely haunted. That would explain the price, then, and the agent’s steadfast refusal to say why. Whatever, as long as they stayed in their own lane and realized that she wasn’t going anywhere because of a mortgage contract, they would just be a really reclusive freeloader, and that she could handle. Lord knows she’s had worse roommates.

The warmth of the room seemed to increase a notch as she got changed into her pajamas but eased as she went into the attached bathroom to brush her teeth, and the room was just comfortable again when she came back out, going over to the bed and climbing in under the covers, turning off the light with an app on her phone, internet having been set up before she got there.

The house was quiet as she lay there, staring up at the ceiling. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and shifted slightly to get comfortable, quickly falling asleep.

Hands on her skin, soft lips capturing her own, her naked body pressed against another’s. Strong arms held her in a lover’s embrace and she could feel his breath on her neck as her hips rocked in his lap, the feeling of being filled so strong but not unfamiliar. Stubble scraped across her skin not unpleasantly and dark hair was soft under her fingers. Her dream lover was passionate, holding her close and whispering words she couldn’t make out against her skin. Friction against nerve endings pushed her closer and closer to the edge and she tumbled over it.

The strength of the orgasm is what woke her up and she lay there, feeling as she still clenched and released around nothing, her inner walls trying to massage something that wasn’t there. That was…odd. Sex dreams were incredibly rare for her, but they did happen. She knew that having one the first night after moving into a house she heavily suspected to be haunted should have given her pause, but she had never heard of a ghost doing something like that before. They mostly just tried to scare the living daylights out of occupants to get them out of “their” house, not give them intense orgasms. Closing her eyes again, she slipped back asleep, but right before she slipped completely under, she thought she felt a featherlight kiss on her temple.

#henry cavill #charles brandon #null #my writing

51 notes · View notes