#deer head wall art

[decorhomeau]

Resin Art Deer Head for Wall Decor

Majestic Deer Head Wall Decor - Decor Home

This Resin Art Deer Head for Wall Decor is the perfect aesthetic room decor that will make even the plainest room look more magical.

We offer free Australia-wide shipping and easy return for peace of mind. This deer head wall decor makes a lovely addition to any space.

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 6

pairing: Lance Stroll x Reader, Grid x Reader

summary: you and lance have a talent for traumating the grid *insert emotional damage meme here*

requests open masterlist

———————————

It was safe to say that that you and Lance were still very much in your honeymoon phase when you got to testing. Both of you very tan from your weeks spent on the beach.

“Y/n! You surprised the world when you announced your marriage and name change, Anything you want to say about it?” One of your favorite interviewers asks you as you walk hand in hand to the paddock with Lance.

“Sure, yeah. Lance and I have been together for a long time, so getting married was just the natural next step. It was a small wedding with close friends and family. Regarding my new name, alittle over a year ago, Kimi offered to mentor me and we forged a very close bond. He is basically my father and his kids are my siblings, so with the blessing of the family I wanted to honor the relationship the best way I knew how. Racing under the Räikkönen name is such a huge honor and I can’t thank my dad and family enough for the honor,” you beam, more than happy to talk about your family.

“How did Kimi react when you told him you were taking his name both legally and when racing,” she asks, your joy infectious.

“He was so happy, I told him at the wedding, yeah. We are such a tight family, I can’t thank them enough for bringing me into their family and allowing me to take their last name. And Lance has been wonderful about it, he actually suggested hyphenating the names,” you tell her. Usually you are pretty tight lipped, but you with happily talk with her.

“Alright, onto what actually matters. How are you feeling going into testing with Red Bull?” she asks and you take a step back into your normal interview style.

“Good. I certainly miss Checo here, but the car feels good. We will see how testing goes and work from there,” Lance gives you a look that says you will be late and the journalist notices.

“Thanks for chatting, and congratulations,” she says and you nod in thanks before walking away.

“You look very hot today, Mrs Räikkönen-Stroll,” Lance says kissing the side of your head.

“Maybe so, but nothing compares to you post race,” your cheeks flame a little. Lance pulls you into a small alley between motorhomes. You are pressed against the wall as Lance kisses you, hands tangled in each other’s hair.

“OH MY GOD!” you hear Daniel shriek.

“MY EYES!” Valtteri screams. Lance quickly pulls away from you as the four of you look at each like deer in the headlights. Daniel and Valtteri quickly walk away, leaving you and Lance giggling like school kids.

The club atmosphere was off when you walked in, taking a seat beside Logan. Valtteri can’t look you in the eyes while Daniel isn’t sure whether his is proud or scarred for life.

“Fernando, I was not aware of your taste in books,” Nico says, a little flushed thinking about what they had to read.

“Yeah, a smut book? We do have innocent eyes here,” Kevin looks at you and Logan.

“Innocent?” Logan asks, a breathy laugh behind it.

“The beach scene?” Lewis suggests you all start on.

“The writing was phenomenal, the author really captured the emotions and sensations. It read so raw, so lifelike. It was one of the few times that art imitated life. She captured every intimate thought and feeling that a woman gets when she is having sex. I remember during the honeymoon when Lance and I did something similar on the private beach and wow, the author really nailed it,” you say, not quite realizing what you had just revealed to the group.

“Damn, Y/n, I didn’t realize you and Lance were freaks like that. Respect,” Daniel says, never being one to shy away from sex. Your face twists in mortification at what you unintentionally revealed. The guys look at eachother mortified as well.

You were an adult, they knew that, but in their subconscious mind you haven’t done anything more than kiss a boy. That’s how you end up following them as they storm across the paddock.

“Logan! Help me stop them,” you look at him with panic in your eyes as the group nears the Aston Martin garage.

“Hell no, this is so funny,” he says and you huff. You see the guys cornering Lance.

“YOU RUINED OUR DAUGHTER?!” Fernando yells at his teammate. You just want to sink into a corner and die, similar to how Lance appears.

“Our precious, innocent, child. What’s next? Logan has slept with a girl?” Valtteri says.

“HEY!” Logan yells in offense. The guys’ faces drain of more color.

“You too? This isn’t ok,” Kevin says and you spot Max and Lando trying not to laugh, the two of them having seen the commotion and wanted to check it out.

“I think you guys are forgetting that the three of us are consenting adults, we aren’t kids anymore,” you say softly, Logan and Lance standing by you, the latter still scared.

“Tell that to Kimi,” Nico chuckles and you groan at the mention of your dad.

“Alright, stop harassing my teammate, we have meetings,” Max breaks everyone up, leading you away.

“Thanks, Maxie,” you let out a breath of relief.

“Do I want to know?” he laughs.

“No, I don’t think so,” you return his laugh. You just hope that your book club meeting will be smoother tomorrow morning.

The next morning, you walk into the room happy and perky as usual.

“You okay, Fernando?” Logan asks when he notices Fernando on his third cup of coffee and the tiredness in his eyes.

“The hotel has thin walls. My hotel room shares a wall with Lance’s,” Fernando says, giving you a look that makes you blush in embarrassment, wishing the earth would open up and eat you whole.

“It is natural. They are young and in love, maybe we will have a baby Stroll soon,” Lewis says and your eyes light up.

“We will!” you say, quickly pulling out your phone. The older drivers hearts sink, all slightly panicking. “Oh my god, I’m not pregnant guys, we are just getting a puppy,” you laugh at their faces.

“I would like to make a motion to kick Y/n out of the book club due to the amount of emotional distress she has given the members this weekend,” Valtteri says, and your jaw drop.

“Alright alright, but you don’t understand the almost of trauma I went through having rooms that neighbored all of you during my first year here,” you point your finger at all of them.

“Motion denied,” Daniel sighs, knowing he was probably one of the main culprits.

“So, this dog?” Nico says, changing the subject.

instagram

y/username EVERYONE MEET MY BABY!

since I’m too young to have a baby (according to the club) here is my baby holding our baby, Milo Stroll ❤️🐾🐶

logansargeant look at how big his paws are! he’s gonna be a big boy 😍

y/username his favorite uncle 🥰

danielricciardo @y/username I take offense to that

user1 y/n really had me in the first half

nicohulkenberg she had us too the first time she brought up Milo in conversation

lancestroll what a hot mama 😮‍💨

y/username nothing compared to the absolute DILF holding my sweet puppy in the picture

georgerussel MY EYES! MY INNOCENT EYES

[princessbrunette]

the first time deer!reader introduced pope to her parents, she almost couldn’t control herself.

you had no idea what you’d been so nervous about, everything had been perfect. as much as you loved the other pogues, you couldn’t imagine them behaving themselves the way pope did. he was big on etiquette, even bigger on respect — having ‘meeting the parents’ nailed down to an art. he was well educated, polite, loveable — the exact type of guy you want to bring home. you couldn’t be happier.

but something about watching him interact with your family, so eager to please them in order to keep you happy — made you eager to please him, watching him chat away with your folks over the table with your chin in your palm, barely touching your food. as soon as the meal was up, you couldn’t wait to drag him away.

“i think we’re going to go hang out upstairs for a while.” he feels your hand shyly tugging at his pinkie finger and his head whips round to him.

“after that meal i think i gotta do the dishes, atleast. please, sit.” pope whips back round to your mother with a charming smile, making her fawn over his politeness.

“i can’t ask that of you pope, it’s fine i swear — i’m sticking it all in the dishwasher anyway.” your mother refuses as you sway impatiently on your feet behind your boyfriend.

“oh, then i’ll help clear the table.” he shrugs, beginning to pile up plates. “the food was fantastic.” he compliments, following her through to the kitchen. you slump down in the dining seat once more, awaiting his eventual release.

once you finally got your hands on him, you were tripping up the stairs trying to get him to your bedroom faster. “woah, careful.” he catches your waist and it only makes your need worse, shutting the door firmly behind him once he was in. he takes a few steps into the room following you to stand near your dresser, the ghost of an amused and confused smile on his face as he watches you hurry to your speaker, tapping on the first playlist to come up on your spotify — that being his playlist.

as soon as the first note plays, you’re back infront of him, practically diving on him pressing your mouth to his. he lets out a quiet grunt of surprise and confusion as you pant against him, the first song off his playlist loudly obstructing anyone outside the four walls from hearing anything inside them.

“talk to me, what’s going on? brought me up here to kiss?” he pulls away, leaning back making a tiny whine escape the back of your throat. you would have thought you were on borrowed time from the way you gripped his shirt urgently.

“more th’n kiss.” you slur needily, leaning in trying to catch his lips once more. “you were perfect. they love you. you’re perfect.” you whisper and his brows jump up, leaning back once more.

“woahwoahwait— me impressing your parents is what’s turning you on? like actually?” you watch his eyes dance between yours. you pause for a second, catching your breath before nodding violently.

“uh-huh, yes.” you border on a whimper. his face flattens in thought, nodding his head once as it’s clear he’s taking mental note.

“interesting.”

“shh.” you silence him once more with another jump, hands all over him and lips successfully back on his. he melts more into the kiss this time, but before he even has the chance to fully get into it, you’re unlatching — choosing to kiss through his clothes instead, down his chest, down his tummy, sinking to your knees.

he puffs out an exhale through his cheeks, leaning on the wall and bracing his hand on your shelf clumsily, causing a blythe doll to fall from her stand but he effortlessly catches her in his palm, carefully placing her back on the shelf. this somehow made him ten times more attractive and you bite your lip, violently working his belt off as bryson tiller sings, covering all heaving breathing from room.

i say you don’t need nobody else, feels like you don’t got me so you feel like you’ve been by yourself —

you start to mouth at him through his pants, and he’s suddenly bending down to pull you back by the shoulders, wide eyes — like he’d been snapped out of a trance. “holdupholdup— your parents are just downstairs. are you sure this is a good idea?” he stresses, and you combat this by massaging the stress out of his cock through the fabric of his pants, squeezing him with those big bambi eyes that got him so weak.

“just need to suck it, popey.” you plead and he tilts his head back for a second, eyes rolling back.

“oh jesus.” he returns his gaze, brows still knitted in worry. “wait — your mom said dessert would be ready soon.”

“well, i want mine.” you pout your lips, undoing his zipper more to kiss through his boxers. he looks in pain, holding back. “i don’t want anything in return. it’ll be quick.”

he tilts his head with a knowing smirk. “well you already know i have to return the favour. i got manners.”

“we’ll figure it out. stop talkin’ P.” you whine, pulling him out his boxers and drooling on his tip, beginning to massage it down his shaft. he leans against the wall once more, letting out a shaky breath and squeezing his eyes shut.

“i’m dreaming.” he states in disbelief as you get to work, trying to ignore the time ticking away before the two of you would be called back downstairs. you took this as a challenge. you don’t get to be an ex-academic weapon and not enjoy a little time restricted fun.

[small-sinclair]

Hii!!

Sinclair brothers react about it's time to wake up but S/O don't want to get up just want to stay in bed and sleep

Thank you and have a good day!!!❤️

Hewo, friend! Thank your for the request :3

I'm also going to add Reggie and Brahms, too.

Slashers with an s/o that doesn't want to leave bed.

Bo: Snuggles

"Darlin', I know ya hate mornin's but ya need to let go of my arm," he drawls, tapping your shoulder to let go. "I got things to do, an' I need your help wit' puttin' up a new welcome sign."

Y/n's hand takes Bo's arm and pulls it back into their grasp. They sigh tiredly and drift back to sleep. Bo just signs and lays back down with them and nuzzles into their chest. "Okay, honey. Twenty more minutes an' we move."

Bo said this about two hours ago. Now, he and his s/o are snuggled under the covers once more, Bo kissing their head and hands. Maybe it's a good idea to take the morning off.

Vincent: Works anyways

He knows you don't get up right away, and he's okay with that. Vincent is already dressed and working on his art when you stumble out of the little bedroom off the side of the basement and lean against him. Vincent knows you stay up late sometimes with your own work, but he just wants your to feel well rested with everything. He looked over as you rest your head on his shoulder. Both of you listen to the opera music play as you watch him work with his hands.

He puts his tools down and pats his lap, motioning for you to sit. You do, and he holds your waist as you play with his hair.

"Sorry I slept in later," you whispered, sleep still hanging in your voice.

He shakes his head as he starts rubbing your back. At least you're somewhat awake for him to give you some loving by kissing your hand and cheek, his lone eye admiring your sleepy-filled eyes.

Lester: Passenger Royalty

He was able to wiggle out of your grasp and get dressed to leave for work. He normally leaves before the sun comes up, so he knows you won't be awake. Today is different, however.

Lester wakes you up with kisses and nudging your gently like a puppy. "Sweet pea? Do ya wanna wake up?"

"No," you murmur as you started back to sleep.

He raises a brow and kisses your forehead. "How 'bout ya come wit' me today? If we leave now, we can get that fast food breakfast ya lik'?" He kisses you again. "An' Starbucks from the next town over? Headin' 'at way anyhow 'cause I gotta report from the sheriff two deer down."

You think it over. "C'n I be in my fuzzy pants all day? And not leave the truck?" You asked, blinking some sleep away.

"Be my passenger royalty, darlin'," he conformed. "Deal?"

You smile sleepily and kiss him sleepily. "Grab my blanket and pillow, too. I might sleep."

Brahms: The Nervous

Brahms gets scared when y/n doesn't get up at their normal time. He moves from his room and goes through the wall tunnels to find them still in their bed with the covers over their head. He saw this once when he was younger when someone was sick and dying.

Brahms comes to y/n's side of the bed and shakes them slightly. "Wake up," he whispers. "Please, wake up? Get up?" His child voice fills the dusty air as his nerves take over. "Why aren't you getting up?"

Y/n stirs and parts their eyes. Without saying anything, they pulls Brahms into their chest and lay them back down in bed.

"Y/n sick?" Brahms ask.

"No," they answer as they start going back to sleep. "Just a lazy day." Y/n looks down at Brahms and carefully takes off his mask to steal a kiss. "Does Brahms wanna join y/n on this lazy day?"

Even though it doesn't go in his normal schedule, Brahms nods and snuggles into their arms, sighing softly. They should have more lazy days.

Reggie: Comes back and Joins

Reggie wakes up and kisses your forehead. You normally wake up with him, but he noticed that you were extra tired today from last night's date. He smiled in your hair and kisses you once more, causing you to follow his lips to kiss him back.

"Go'morning, honeydew," he says lightly. "I gots some deliveries ta do. Promise 'll be back by lunch."

"Bring food?" You murmur, kissing his arm. "Please?"

He smiles and rests his head against yours. "Reckon so, beauty." HE looks at the clock then back at you. "I promise ta bring bac' sum burgers and curly fries from 'at dinner yous like." Reggie squeezes your head the sits up to leave.

When he comes back and sees you still in bed, he'll smile and place the bags on the counter. He takes off his boots and hands his hat before climbing in bed and pulls you into his chest, kissing your head. Soon, he joins you and drifts back to sleep, holding you close.

[swagatron9]

hi! do you take requests? if so, what if the slashers see the reader dressed up as them for halloween? i’m wearing a michael costume today and its all i can think about lol. ignore this if ya dont do requests though^^

Slashers Reactions To You Dressing Up As Them

Pairings: Brahms Heelshire, Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Art The Clown. Authors Note: I do take requests and will be happy to do them depending on what it is, so feel free to request.

Brahms Heelshire:

While it wasn't Halloween, you still felt the need to dress up as the stinky wall boy. So after coming across Brahms' discarded mask, you decided that today was the day. You took Brahms' mask and went to your own room, where you searched through your wardrobe in search of some similar clothes. The white tank top was the easiest to find paired with some dark-colored trousers. The rest of the clothes you made up with whatever was possible before finally adding on the mask. "Y/n, I lost my mask-" Brahms walks into your room and is surprised to find an almost identical copy of himself. You look at him in the mirror, standing like a deer caught in headlights due to not being ready to reveal yourself to Brahms. "Y/n?" His head tilts as he takes you in. "What are you doing?" At first, Brahms is a bit upset to find out that you stole his mask, but then he insists on creating a mask for you to wear so that the two of you can look alike, but his only rule is that you have to take it off when he asks you to so that he can see your pretty face.

Michael Myers:

It wasn't uncommon to come across a Michael Myers outfit in the Halloween costume section, so after seeing it one too many times, you decided to finally purchase it. Your friends had insisted that you join them in dressing up as different slashers for Halloween this year, and you made your claim on Michael. After purchasing the white creepy mask, you headed back to your empty home, where you rummaged through Michael's closet. You checked through the sizes of Michael's coveralls and found that they were all the exact same size, so you chose the cleanest one that you could find. You struggled to hold the sleeves up on Michael's coveralls, so you decided to pin them up; only when you went downstairs to find some pins you ended up walking into Michael. "Oh- Michael! Hello." You smiled underneath the mask but then remembered that he couldn't see you. You removed the mask and awkwardly stood in front of Michael. "I'm you." You stated the obvious. Michael shook his head before walking into the kitchen. You weren't entirely sure what he meant by shaking his head, but you brushed it off as nothing. That was until Michael returned. A knife was placed into your hand, and Michael then nodded his head after seeing your completed look. He couldn't deny that you looked adorable in his overly large-clothes.

Jason Voorhees:

Jason wasn't keen on allowing you to leave the camp, fearing that if you left, something could potentially happen to you without him there to protect you. But Jason was aware that you had taken a liking towards holidays like Halloween and Christmas, so when Halloween rolled around, he gathered an outfit for you to wear. After going for a walk around the camp, you returned back to the cabin to find Jason's clothes laid out on the bed. "Jason!" When Jason entered the room, you questioned why his exact outfit was laid out on the bed even though he was already wearing it. "Where did you get these? And why are they out?" He pointed to you in response before pointing to one of your Halloween decorations. "You want me to dress up as you?" You asked in confusion. Jason nodded his head. "Okay!" You instantly began stripping out of your original clothes right in front of a flustered Jason and started putting on the clothes he had on the bed. Like Brahms, Jason wants you to only wear this for Halloween as the only reason he wears it is because of his own insecurities.

Art The Clown:

Art would be the happiest man in the world to find you dressed up at him. The day that you show him your outfit completely inspired by his own, he's already come up with an entire list of things that you must do. He insists that he gives you lessons on how to mime in order to act like him. He's overjoyed at the thought of tainting you with his own evil ways and can't wait to teach you. "Art, do you-" You would be cut off by Art pretending to zip your mouth closed and throw away the key. He would sign to you that there is no speaking before continuing on with his class. What you originally planned to be a fun experience to dress up as him, turned into an entire lecture where you were no longer allowed to dress up in your own clothes.

[bimbodoggie]

cybersex • (simon “ghost” riley x camgirl!reader)

contents/warnings: fem reader, consensual filming, toys, mean!dom simon, impregnating mention, face sitting, yourself on the shelf position, reader is plus sized, size kink, hair pulling, also simon is an asshole, oh also simon has a jacob’s ladder teehee :3

a/n: i started school and this semester has been beating my ass, MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI!, all art is by @ave661

your job was way easier than simon’s, you’d play dress up and take pretty pictures and videos for thousands of people on the internet….but simon he didn’t mind it because he knew that you were untouchable.

sometimes it did bother him tho, the fact others got to see what was his on the daily, but you could quit anytime you wanted, but this particular day it was different. the way simon was acting was kind of….strange, but then again he’s a 6’2 1/2 man who parades in a skull eggshell mask and the occasional balaclava with gunpowder or charcoal to match

all day your mind was filled by your thoughts of how he’s probably on the verge of breaking up with you right now, but then again this is the same man who spent his free time on base using your photos and videos as jerk bait….the front door creaked open and the sound of his boots and duffle bag hit the floor, its like this man had no trace of sound because next thing you know you two were eye to eye staring at each other.

it was embarrassing to say the least because well, you were naked and vulnerable…the only noise that came from his mouth was a satisfied grunt followed by a quick kiss on the mouth, you decided breaking the silence first was the best thing to do considering…

“are you leaving me?” was the question of the day, he froze, like a deer in headlights…if only you knew that was the complete opposite of what needed to be said from his mouth…once again silence filled the room as he walked over and shut off your camera which made you wonder even more about what his next move was

“you know, i’ve been thinking…that maybe instead of being being the director i get my role of the old pervert, something we can both remember yeah?”

what the fuck…is this the big secret he was storing away in his file cabinet? a fantasy, your mouth opened and closed, simon’s reaction was pretty expected, a hearty laugh a booming one at that…

“cmon use your words i know somewhere in that empty brain of yours you can conjure up a couple words yeah?”

instead of a verbal response which he wanted you just shook your head and ignored him which you would have to pay the price later but who cares at least him leaving you isn’t in the equation.

without warning simon picked you up and put you on the bed, looking you in your eyes to indicate that you either was going to break or he was going to break you.

he lifted his mask and started kissing from your neck all the way down to your malleolus bone, this man knew your body like the back of his hand, all the sensitive spots, where to lick, bite and touch he knew it all. he paused to turn on the camera.

“the first thing you’re gonna do is get on your knees and tell the audience what you’re doing today, then depending on how good you are i’ll let you be in charge for a little how does that sound lovey”

your brain circuited and was now functioning off of the commands from simon you scrambled from the bed to the floor…your big eyes met his lifeless ones.

“hi- hi everyone today i will be letting my boyfriend ghost be in my- my vids”

this was humiliating but you enjoyed every single moment, your mouth met his tip which was glistening with pre and begging to be touched, his cock was decorated with piercing jewelry which was a stimulant for your cunt, with his free hand he grabbed a fistful of hair and guided you to what he wanted to do, after that nothing but grunts and degrading phrases bounced around the walls

before he was remotely close to finishing he then picked you up and fucked into you, it was too much to bare, thousands of people watching you and how your boyfriend abuses your cunt on the daily basis, simon’s hand came into contact with your ass groping it, and leaving marks which will show in the morning

there was a heart shaped, light pink butt plug jewel which sparkled in the reflection of the light, the sounds of skin filled the room as you cried out for him to be gentle, he ignored your plea but instead moved a little closer to the camera putting your holes on display for thousands to see

user239329849: he’s such a lucky man

anon3453905: i would do anything to get my hands on her

simon laughed at the desperation comments that entailed of men and their sick fantasies, but simon was the only one who could act on them…he then put you down and signaled you to sit on his face, as much as you wanted to tell him your cunt was saying too much, you wanted him and needed him…the way his warm tongue consoled your weeping cunt had you in tears, the whining and crying for him to slow down was non existent to him.

he then positioned you to where your face was in the camera while he spread open the globes of your brown ass, “gonna give you a baby, i always know when you’re ovulating, i always track it on my calendar in my phone to make sure i get you pregnant” he rasped as he increased his pace….so much was going on which made you wonder if you could take him or not

he wanted a view of how your skin turned red at the sight of him battering your insides like it was some sick recipe…. “si baby, please im just please” your replied to him as he looked you in the eyes, a light slap from his hand was to question if you were still there or if you was just brainless, you started babbling incoherent sentences which was an indication to simon you were close, he took his hand pressed it again your lower abdomen…you tried you really did but he knew your body like a map

“you really are braindead, just a hole f’me and nothin else yea?”

that sent you overboard, it was enough with the jewelry that decorated his cock, you felt the band in your stomach pop making you to make a mess, it felt as if he planned this, he was sick but you liked it….he then turn your ass and cunt to the camera to show the cum leaking out of your throbbing hole….a sloppy kiss from simon was all you needed, you felt like he was breaking you

“touch her and i will find you personally and kill you”

he then ended the live stream to give you aftercare but deep down you knew he was serious

[charleslee-valentine]

Sawyer family name etymology:

The Sawyer surname doesn’t have any significant meaning to the family overall. Sawyer is an occupational surname relating to lumber work. This likely came from long before the current generation of slaughterers. Much like the trauma in the family, it’s generational, continuing it’s mark as it’s passed down. Still, each family member’s first name is more relevant.

Starting with the oldest first, is Drayton. Drayton means ‘determined’ and ‘stubborn.’ Besides maybe cruel, I don’t think there’s a word to better fit Drayton than stubborn. He has rules laid out for the family and hurts them if they don’t follow them. His determination is to stay consistent and behaved, upholding the standards that became the standard of their grandparents.

The twins are a little harder since Chop Top wasn’t revealed to have the legal name Robert until the early 2000s by Tobe Hooper’s son. According to him, this name had been in the tcm2 script bible chosen from the beginning. That being said, the name Robert can symbolize ‘shining.’ For a hyper, accessorized, war veteran such as himself, I find that fitting. It’s not deep or psychological like Drayton’s, but it can play into both his bright personality and his various medals, pins, badges and patches he wears to represent his favorite things and his service in the military. Also, his chrome dome. The metal plate in his head is certainly ‘shining.’ Whether a humorous nod or an unintentional (and rather unfortunate) irony, the name fits him well. Other guesses for his name exist, but considering the subtitles on any dvd nor screen recording ever mentioned the assumed name, it holds little validity beyond preference for some.

As for Nubbins, his name is obviously most likely a nickname, but it’s what we have to work with. The word Nubbins has two meanings, being ‘underdeveloped/small’ or ‘growing deer antlers.’ Going with the first, Nubbins may have been a name given to him because of his stature as a child, being a twin who, according to Edwin Neal, was born ill, he was likely premature. Twins were much harder to identify back in the mid to late 40s when he was born and couldn’t really be planned on without a practicing midwife to identify a mother carrying two babies. Thus it’s possible the name Robert was picked out, but Nubbins was simply given a nickname based on his size. Though it’s possible he does have another name that was replaced by the nickname later on. Either way it comes automatically for Drayton to say it when he uses his name, notably the only character to do so, so it almost certainly was a part of his childhood since Drayton would’ve been old enough to remember that. There is the second meaning as well, being ‘deer antlers’ that are in an early state of growth. Because of his interest in animals -as we see when he plays/sews with roadkill, photographs the slaughterhouse, and makes his bone art pieces- it’s possible he had some connection to deer and thus earned his nickname that way. Possibly even in a hunting scenario. There are several pairs of mounted antlers on the walls in the family home afterall.

Finally the youngest, Bubba. Leatherface is a nickname only used in higher pressure situations. Nubbins calls it out when he needs help carrying grandpa, and Chop Top uses it when he’s panicking/angry. Bubba is possibly a nickname as well since it just means ‘brother.’ He’s the last child born in the family, so he could simply have received a baby-ish name to be cute, or the nickname was given to him by his brother’s and stayed. No matter how it came about, it’s a term of familial endearment, so being used as a name is quite sweet and speaks to the family dynamic of caring and staying together through anything, even death. Also, despite his trouble with speaking, Bubba would likely be able to say his own name based on the sounds we hear him make. Even lifelong non-verbal autistics like him may from time to time mimic words that pattern the noises and sounds they comfortably communicate with. Bubba could’ve been chosen for ease as well.

With the game, there are the additional family members of Johnny and Nancy.

Johnny means ‘God is gracious.’ Nancy chooses this name for him after killing his mother Judith. Interestingly, the name Judith itself refers to the biblical figure, who was a woman that fought against an oppressive man to free her people, sort of like Judith rescuing Johnny from her abusive husband. However Nancy sees this as a threat. The biblical story of Judith is that she trusted God, but had to act when he did not within six days. Our Nancy kills her, steals her baby boy, and names him after God’s love. Essentially, she has rejected the entire ideal Judith represents, in name even. Johnny is a gift, and his name becomes significant in the same moment as well.

As for Nancy herself, her name means ‘favored.’ She wants nothing but to be loved more than the memory of the caring woman she murdered. Her desire to be honored and respected by her child leads to her physically scarring his face. Nancy being favored in truth isn’t the case, Johnny, and every other family member for that matter, argues against her strategy and back-talks her. She isn’t respected in the least, and basically in her quest to be the best, lost her own meaning entirely. This downfall is of her creation. Her name is the opposite of her truth because of what she did.

[henqtic]

My Only Girl⋆｡*✩ 

pairing: xavier thorpe x black!reader . word count: 2.1k ( 2180 ).

⊹ summary: xavier finally shows her his makeshift art studio, filled up with what had been consuming him lately and it leads to more.

i love a good clueless best friends to lovers they only have eyes for each other thing so I tweaked the story a little bit also love confessions and sort of miscommunication but not the annoying kind, it get’s resolved quickly — more like momentary confusion :)

·:*₊‧ masterlist . taglist form . request works . ·:*₊‧✩

part two: fluttery.

Maybe I should’ve chosen something a tad more practical for a walk through the woods? She thought. Something that would protect from the harsh end-of-fall winds, and not just the cutest thing that popped out of the closet. Her cardigan had holes all about it, the loose crochet pattern being a little less desirable now.

But, Xavier had finally taken his eye off of that sketchbook and directed them onto her. He carried two, one that he let her have nearly endless access to – bringing to life little birdies and stick fingers that would dance around each other when you were down.

Or he’d even let her give the ‘artist friend’ role of their pair a try and they’d end up with a rather . . . diabolical dog rabbit deer thing running around his dorm in the middle of the night.  

Once. It was once. He hadn’t brought to life anything she’d put on a paper since. He, along with Rowan who woke up to a tickling on his feet, claimed it was a safety hazard.

The other sketchbook that is, he’d only bring out when his mind ran particularly quick. So quick that he’d forget to have a good breakfast and she’d have to bring him one of those weird jam packed bagels that he argued were so much better than a normal breakfast burrito.

Tomato, onion, cream cheese, and avocado. Lightly toasted bread. The lady behind the counter in the cafeteria didn’t even have to ask anymore.

Those moments more often than not, also included times where he couldn’t tell her everything right then and there. Preoccupied with whatever it was troubling him.

But she lived with it. Even if that meant talking to her best friend and the guy she had been in love with since she was thirteen like he was half way there. And feeling inadequate for the periods of time it lasted.

It’s not good for her, she knew that.

But it’s him. She knew him. Behind all of that brooding and mystique, he was just as much of a person with personal problems as everyone else. So, she could live with it. However long it took until he was comfortable with opening up – with as much enthusiasm her attention loving heart could pump through her veins.

“Here, take my hoodie,” Xavier offered, shaking the thick cotton off of his shoulders as he closed the door to the shed behind them, “I didn't notice how much you were shivering until now.”

“Then won’t you be cold?”

“I’m used to the chill. Take it, I need to look for something really quick.”

“What is it? Maybe I can help,” she smiled as she took the jacket out of his hands, taking a step to turn around and replace her jumbo sized cardigan for it instead.

It smelled comforting, like vanilla and shea, the vanilla she knew for a fact came from his shampoo and the shea probably from her own hair product.

“No, you can’t,” he rushed, averting his eyes as she quickly turned around, the sweater just half way on, “Um, it’s a gift. . . sort of, just look around and I’ll tell you when to close your eyes.”

“Okay,” she sang, a little unsure with his tone, pulling the rest of it down as he walked to a pile of papers on the counters lining the left wall.

She took just a second to watch him walk away, the muscles of his back moving together so nicely as he searched for whatever he was searching for. He could hunt forever for whatever, honestly. Maybe even get a canvas to capture his own back profile if that was possible. She knew she’d pay a commission.

Taking a deep breath, she shook her head, snapping out of whatever trance he had unknowingly put her in.

It looked just like his dorm, his side of it at least.

From ceiling to floor, he had pieces scattered all over. They were all so beautiful, she hadn’t realized he’d made things outside of black and white. They all stood out against the dark wood of the shed, pink, greens, reds, yellows, all shining bright from the artworks.

Faceless people reaching out to each other, hearts molding together, beautiful depiction of nighttime from a view that seemed familiar, peonies, cornations, and orchids all in the same bouquet. Dozens of swans in a pond under the stars, but only two stood out amongst them. Everything was of the same genre, as though it was. . . love that had been troubling him.

She scanned the room five more times, from the paint brushes, and the smocks, the mason jars of water, and the canvases uncompleted. Up and down, left to right, three-dimensionally if that was even possible. It was a wonder how a mere shed could somehow contain all of Xavier Thorpe’s life, heart, and soul.

She made sure to shy away from the whole romance thing, or at least she made the conversation never lead there. To keep your feelings in tact. But this, this was different. This wasn’t just him calling Bianca pretty in ninth grade, this was —

Had he fallen in love with someone else? She couldn’t even accuse him of that, it wasn’t like she was ever in the running of someone he was in love with. But was she the reason he’d been so preoccupied? Because his best friend wouldn’t let him talk about the person who was taking up his mind?

She focused on one in particular, a canvas bigger than all the others and some paint still wet.

Moonlight was painted from the sky, the moon was more of a rose if you looked at the highlights, a white rose. And her head was turned to it, she had the type of beauty where you didn’t even need to see her face — the essence of her was just enough.

Just like all the other things she was featured in.

Who even was she?

“Do you like it?” He asked from behind her with a grin, a box wrapped with a pretty ribbon held in his hands, “I’ve been working on it for a little bit but it was too hard to get the face completely right. . . I guess I needed to see it up close again.”

“So is this where you bring all of your girls?” She asked shortly, a little shake in her voice as she didn’t bother to look up at his green eyes she could feel staring a hole into her.

“All of my girls?” He questioned, a slight offense in his voice, “Come on, [ your name ].”

“I mean, just look at all of this, obviously there’s some girl who provoked all of this and you haven’t felt comfortable telling me about her.”

Some girl, was an understatement. For weeks since they’d gone to the dance together, it became harder and harder for him to keep his feelings about her just tucked to the bottom of his heart. But it was something about moonlight, the way it bounced off of the white crystals of her dress and reflected right to her eyes.

Beauty was an understatement for [ your name ], and to attempt to get it all out had presented itself as more difficult than he thought. She’d been the subject of his drawings before but drawing it, dreaming of her was something different this time.

Like he could feel something clawing its way out the heart valve he’d pushed it down into.

Day in and day out, he sketched sharp and soft, attempting to get all that was on his mind out of his head and onto some paper. Push back the thoughts of his friend, his dearest, loveliest, most enchanting friend.

Was she even interested in him? Was he mistaking a healthy friendship with someone who made him happier than ever, for something romantic? Was he one of those guys who did that? Had he been ignoring her for the last month?

He figured he had, judging by the sad puppy dog eyes that would settle on her soft features when he’d finally look up at her. So, he finally took Rowan’s words of encouragement and manned up about it. He even used an extra amount of the shea butter lotion she gifted him after he complained about how dry his skin was.

He never knew how her skin was so soft but apparently, lotioning straight out of the shower was a part of a lot of people’s normal routine.

A walk through the woods surrounding Nevermore, just when the sun started to rest. A note he left by her room door. So, they met with music and some snacks tucked away in her tote bag.

It made for an easy way to get out of actually doing it if he inevitably chickened out, and a way to make it up to her nonetheless.

And now, somehow, with everything surrounding them, she was just as clueless as he was.

“You don’t have to lie Xavier. There’s literally fifteen, probably more actually, drawings here that have her as the center of attention. You shouldn’t have to feel like you in order to protect my feelings you have to hide yours.”

He stayed quiet, confused. But then he smiled.

“Protect your feelings?”

She sighed, feeling a little defeated, “I’m so sorry,” she groaned, hiding her face in her hands.

“You just brought me to this beautiful makeshift art shed, like literally with neon letters saying how much you love whatever girl this is — and I’m telling you that I love you.”

“I brought you here, because I wanted to apologize for how I’ve been acting. And share this place with you because you mean a lot to me. Not to, rub yourself in your face,” he clarified, letting go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“What?” Her voice was small as her eyebrows furrowed beneath the cracks of her fingers.

“I’m really, really sorry that I’ve been ignoring you these past few weeks [ your name ].”

He sat down the gift and wiggled her wrists until she gave up resistance. Slowly, he lifted her head back up to look her in the eyes.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you and me deciding if I wanted to show you all of this doesn’t excuse me being a dick. I treated you like a second thought. And I’m sorry. And this isn’t the first time I’ve done this, yeah?”

She hummed.

“Well, this is me promising to not close you off about things anymore. If I can’t tell you right then and there, I’ll let you know — I won’t just leave you in the dark.”

“So what are you saying Xavier?” She asked with a small smirk, voice leveling out.

“Well I’m confessing my love to you for one, and also saying that doing that shouldn’t start with you feeling like I’m ever gonna treat you like that — ever. And it’s not fair that I’ve been doing that.”

He redirected their attention to the painting that had started it all.

“This painting was after the rave’n when you needed to take a break outside. You said that it was too bright, and took off your corsage to hold it up to the moon. It’s been on my mind for weeks,” he breathed, a weight on his chest lifting as her smile grew and grew at his explanation.

He took both of her soft hands in his, not sure which of theirs was responsible for the clamminess.

“I’m telling you that ‘this girl’ is you. You’re my only girl [ your name ].”

“Oh. Wow. Oh my gosh,” she laughed, her face warm and burning as she hid it in his chest, “I’ve never been so jealous of myself before.”

“I think you were on the verge of crying.”

“A little, yeah.”

“But apology accepted. As long as you can acknowledge your acting like a dick and work on not being so dickish, it makes me happy and means a lot that you’re working to do better.”

He bit the inside of his check nervously, giving her a look of ‘what’s next’?

“I’m gonna need you to actually ask me Xavier,” she whisper teased, stepping so close that their heartbeats could sync together.

“Will you. Let me be your boyfriend. [ first name ] [ last name ]?”

His face dropped as she grimaced, “Oh I don’t know Thorpe, I’d have to check with the others. I’m a very popular lady this year, busy schedule, full happy planner— ”

He cut her off with an abrupt kiss, just wanting to close that painful space. But slow, and innocent in nature — hesitant as he chose where he wanted to go.

With such tenderness, he enveloped her top lip, consuming the crisp taste of a strawberry wafer in her mouth and from his, the three cuties he'd just stressed eaten on the way. They waited there for a moment or three, before breathing into each other's mouths.

They shared light smiles on each other's lips before she leaned in for a second.

“Are you free now?”

a continuation is being written ( headcanon form ) where he gives her the gift :)

thank you for reading, every like and reblog is appreciated  🌷 !

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

Vee: (wakes up at 2 AM to get a glass of water)

Masha: (drawing a pentagram on the wall with a red viscous material)

Vee: W-what're you doing?

Masha: Oh, good morning! I just thought I'd get a head start on the Halloween decorations.

Vee: Please, tell me that’s not real blood.

Masha: Pfft, where would I get blood at this time of night?

Vee: ... Masha, sweetie, I do not like the implications of that response.

Masha: What do you mean?

Vee: Well, where would you get blood at a reasonable hour?!

A butcher’s shop, or from some deer hunters that you know, or the more popular corn syrup and red dye. There’s a bunch of ways to get some blood, while I personally haven’t done that or needed blood for something (like an art project or movie/stage prop), it’s still a good idea to know

[lathalea]

WIP Snippet

Thank you @fishing4stars for tagging me in this little challenge! Your snipped motivated me to work on something I haven't been working for quite a while now.

Remember All Is Fair in Love and Trade? If you do, this snippet comes from a new chapter I'm working on. Yes, really.

“Hey, Balin, What about the third reason to drink?!” Lord Dain slams his ale mug on the table. “I’m gettin’ thirsty here!” A sturdy-looking lady who sits next to him tugs at his tunic. A scar runs across her tattooed face, and you recognize her at once. Ulfhild. One of the fiercest warriors in the Iron Hills, her war hammer crushed many Orc skulls in countless battles. My bonnie wife, as Dain fondly calls her. “The third reason to drink?! You mean the third reason for you to get hammered and have a week-long hangover?!” Dain’s bonnie wife interjects, causing a wave of chuckles. “Only if ye’ll drink with me, my dove!” her husband places a wet, loud peck on her bearded cheek. Lord Balin nods politely after the chuckles subside, “Ah yes, the third cause for our merriment. I am greatly honoured to announce a joyful event. I have known our King since we were but wee bairn. That is why it warms my heart to share wonderful news with you. We are to…” “I’m dying of old age here, Balin!” Dain jumps from his chair onto the table, kicking some plates to the side and stepping right in the middle of a roasted deer on a platter. Needless to say, the aforementioned deer gives way with a soft crunch under the heavy iron sole of Dain’s boot. You can’t stop yourself from chuckling discreetly, and neither can Thorin. “Listen, everyone!” the lord of Iron Hills exclaims, his voice echoing against the walls of the chamber. “My dearest cousin, King Thorin II feckin’ Oakenshield,” he gestures at the dwarf you are madly in love with, “had the audacity to steal my best advisor right from under my nose!” he sends you a wink. “Isn’t it outrageous?!” Lord Balin clears his throat and says with a benevolent smile, “I’m not getting any younger either, dear Dain.” Some of the guests chuckle.  “I’m gettin’ to the best part! I’m talking about Ragna, the poor lass!” Lord Dain points at you, and all the eyes in the chamber turn to you once again. “I have no bloody idea what she was thinkin’, but she agreed to wed King Oaken Head here and now she’ll have to see my cousin’s ugly mug every single day!”

Hope you liked it! :) Special thanks to @legolasbadass for your invaluable feedback :)

Tagging (no pressure!) @legolasbadass @littlesweetdressmaker @sverdgeir @fizzyxcustard @asgardianhobbit98 @sotwk @frosticenow @katlime @middleearthpixie @shrimpsthings @evenstaredits. I tagged you, dear mutuals, because you're the ones we've interacted recently, but if you're not on the list and you'd like to join this challenge, you're most welcome! I'd love to see your creations! Any artwork counts, no matter if it's visual art, music, a story, a poem, or anything else you'd like to share! And of course I simply need to tag some of my lovely regular Thorin readers: @kirenia15 @peachoasis @go-wonder-boi @licensedcheek @frozenhuntress67 @yazzzmints @ruthoakenshield @justfollowtheroad  @sherala007 @jotink78 @rachel1959 @xmly-xo @mrsdurin @quiall321 @lilith15000 . I wish Tumblr allowed me to tag you all!

[enchantedchocolatebars]

A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human Chapter 3: (Bardie Girl)

Written by 💕 enchantedchocolatebars 🍫 (me lol).

Chapter 1 here.

Chapter 2 here.

Commission cover art here.

Cover art poll here.

Chapter titles here.

Chapter 3 snippet here.

Enjoy ! <3

Once upon a time, in a fantastical fantasy realm that was akin to a small girl's dream, there lived a princess.

One glorious afternoon, as the gentle glow of the sun shone brightly in the mesmerizing blue sky, a single cottage castle could be seen standing tall in the center of the forest.

A pair of bluebirds then fly upward into view from below, holding a white banner between their beaks that reads 'Princess Clara's Castle' for a moment before taking off, a trail of clear magic dust fluttering behind them.

The castle resembled a standard cottage home, with white and grey stones used for its exterior construction, but what differentiated it from others was its royal structure.

Inside, Princess Clara slept soundly beneath the comfort of her soft and woolly comforter, dreaming a lovely dream as a cozy smile rested upon her soft and tender face.

While the princess continues to sleep, her bedroom door creaks open as a small group of critters from the forest enter inside.

These cute critters consisted of birds, rabbits, deer, chipmunks, squirrels, and raccoons.

The fauna were her companions and inhabited the castle with her.

As the diverse group of animals crowd together closely around Princess Clara's bedside, a doe lightly nuzzles her cheek with her nose in an attempt to gently wake her.

As the princess slowly opens her eyes, she gets a glimpse of her friends surrounding her bed and lets out the gentlest of laughs.

"Good morning, everyone," she softly greets with a yawn and stretches as she turns to look at the time on her handmade wooden wall clock.

"Well, afternoon," Princess Clara corrects herself with a sheepish smile on her face, rubbing the back of her head with one hand.

Although the princess didn't mean to be such a sleepyhead, she could never resist the temptations of her warm bed.

"Who's hungry?" she asked her animal friends, putting aside her embarrassment for now.

"I'll make up for sleeping in so late with some brunch. How does that sound?"

The offer caused the eyes of the critters to light up with joy as they accepted with nods, causing Princess Clara to giggle in her hand as she sat up.

"Then it's settled," she said, stepping out of bed and dancing across her floorboards on her tippy toes toward her closet while she hummed a merry tune.

Princess Clara's feathery companions tweeted the catchy melody of the song with her, their voices harmonizing beautifully.

Two of them flew over to open her closet door for her, helping the princess slip into one of her favorite house dresses while tossing her nightgown into the hamper.

Now dressed for the day, Princess Clara dips and twirls out of her room and into the kitchen, her forest friends happily following behind her.

…

"Hmm," Princess Clara hummed to herself in thought, tapping her chin with her index finger as she stood in front of her dainty stove, a frying pan sitting on top, as fresh veggies and oil sat on her counter.

Her animal friends, also in the kitchen, were eating their feed of mixed berries that she had prepared for them and placed in pretty porcelain bowls.

"What goes good with fresh veggies?" she whispered.

Tweet, tweet!

Shifting her sights to her open window sill, Princess Clara spots the pair of bluebirds who were holding her banner in the beginning, fluttering over with eggs well wrapped in silk.

The eggs are gently placed on the counter alongside the veggies and oil as the birds took their place on her window sill.

"Oh, eggs! Of course!" Princess Clara exclaims excitedly, finding the answer to her question as she cracks a smile, just like she was planning on cracking those eggs.

"Thank you," the princess told the two birds, who both received gentle rubs to the skin behind their beaks from her as they happily chirped.

With a gentle clearing of her throat, Princess Clara gracefully twirls in place, placing a hand on her chest, and begins to sing lyrics to a theme.

While singing, the princess twirls for a second time, holding out her index finger for one of the bluebirds.

One decides to flap over and step onto it, joining Princess Clara for a lovely duet.

As the caroling continues, the two take turns.

When Princess Clara hits a high note, she allows the bluebird to do the same.

The princess keeps hitting higher and higher notes, and the bluebird struggles to keep up with her.

As the theme comes to a close, Princess Clara hits an ear-piercing high note that causes the bluebird to gradually bloat up and explode.

The princess's eyes widen in shock at this as her animal companions who had witnessed the small explosion gasp.

The room was filled with frightened faces while a deep silence lingered in the air.

…

"… And there!" Princess Clara said, carefully slipping the small sweater she had knitted with the assistance of her animal friends onto the bluebird who had previously exploded and was now featherless.

The sweater fit like a glove and had a few of his feathers nicely glued on to it.

When the bluebird gazed down at his new outfit, he instantly let out a chirp in delight, hopping in place.

"Yay! He likes it!" Princess Clara cheered brightly, her animal friends joining her.

Placing her index finger under the bluebird's foot, the princess lifts gently as the bird steps onto her finger and proceeds to perch.

She starts to rub her cheek against the side of his face, causing him to chirp softly at the affection.

"I'm so sorry about that," Princess Clara whispered, soft sincerity weaving through her voice.

She believed that his feathers would eventually return over time.

...

Late afternoon, Princess Clara contentedly dusted her wooden organ.

As her flightless animal friends swept the floors with their tails, her winged ones collected flowers in a vase, some of them having to be propped up.

A hummingbird hovered over the pot with a watering can that matched its size between its beak and gently poured a pocket-sized amount of water into the pot.

Upon hearing a brief knock at the door, all those in the cottage stopped their work and gazed forward at the front entrance.

"Oh!" Princess Clara gently went as she set her feather duster down and walked toward the door.

"I wonder who that could be."

Upon opening it, she discovered that no one was present.

"That's strange...," she whispered.

It could have simply been the wind, but Princess Clara saw no signs of it being a windy day.

Setting her sights on the ground, the princess let out a small gasp, bringing a hand to her mouth in sheer wonder.

While gazing downward, her light green eyes glowed with twinkles.

In front of the princess's feet, beautifully bestowed on the ground, was a tiara that was comprised of lightly-colored wood.

The coronet was meticulously carved with so much solicitude and had a heart adorned in the center of it.

Laying alongside the tiara was a bouquet of beautiful flowers that looked to have been hand-picked and a heart-sealed envelope.

After obtaining all three items, Princess Clara returned inside and closed the door.

The flowers were safely placed in the ventilated space of the vase, joining the flowers that were already there, as Princess Clara set the rectangular paper down on the console table and slowly placed the treen tiara on her head.

Her animal friends watched her do so, curiosity shining in their eyes.

"Oh, it fits beautifully!" Princess Clara softly exclaimed, her bright voice bursting with excitement as she clapped her hands and gently jumped in place.

The critters in the cottage cheered in delight at this revelation.

Next, the princess took the envelope, carefully removed the pink wax heart stamp from it, and revealed a letter written on a very silky piece of paper inside.

Princess Clara was completely taken aback by the beautiful text that was perfectly written across the page.

A closer examination from the princess indicated that this was indeed a handwritten letter due to the sheening of the ink.

Princess Clara sat down in a chair and began reading the letter to herself while still making sure her animal friends could hear her, her heart fluttering at every sentence.

Dearest Princess Clara,

Today, I contemplated the magnitude of my love for you and how I've never expressed those passionate feelings that swell inside my soul before.

Thus, I aim to convey my genuine affection for you in this letter.

I vividly remember the day I spotted you wandering around town.

You greeted everyone you encountered with the most endearing smile.

I knew right away that I had to meet you.

I attempted to find the courage to have a conversation with you, but I felt like it wouldn't work out because of my lack of confidence and difference in appearance from everyone else.

I hope to one day be brave enough to meet you in person and properly converse with you.

Eternally, yours,

A secret admirer

The princess's smile remained unwavering after the letter was read.

It warmed her heart greatly to see that someone cared about her so much that they arranged a letter along with florals and a tiara and delivered them to her door.

"Chirp, chirp, twee, twee?" asked one of her birds.

Princess Clara shifted her gaze to the birdie.

"How am I going to meet them?" she repeated the bird's question, an idea forming inside her mind.

"I think I know how."

...

Carpenters from the town lined up from Princess Clara's cottage castle to the forest end, excited by the news that she wanted an exact replica carving of a tiara she had received from a stranger.

They all had crafted tiaras for her to try on in their hands, believing that theirs were identical to hers.

The princess was aware through the details of her diadem that the admirer was proficient in carpentry.

Despite offering a generous currency reward for the replica, her primary goal was to locate her devotee through the long line.

Several tiaras were tried on by her, but none were suitable due to being too big, too small, or incorrectly colored.

Finally, a young man wearing a green cloak and suspenders over his outfit, who was the final contender waiting in line, approached her.

Princess Clara's eyes lit up immediately upon seeing the tiara that he held flat in his hands.

It appeared to be the exact one she had on!

After that, she fixed her gaze on the man's eyes.

His warm chestnut-colored eyes were accompanied by a bright, friendly face, guarded by shy excitement.

"It's you," Princess Clara whispered in amazement, taking the offered tiara and examining it with a keen smile.

She took her tiara off her head and compared the two.

The details matched to a T.

She finally found her admirer.

Setting the handed tiara down and placing hers back on, she asked the man, "Did you really mean what you said in that letter you left at my door?"

The man nodded, a small laugh of delight escaping him as he pulled his hood down, revealing his long golden hair tied perfectly in a ponytail and a set of strangely rounded ears that looked otherworldly.

"Oh, my!" The princess squeaked, causing the man to flush by her surprised reaction and quickly cover his ears with both hands.

"I-I'm sorry!" she quickly apologized.

Now it was her turn to blush as the two both shared red faces.

He was human.

She could have sworn that they only existed in fairy tales.

Regardless, she felt as though her unkind response was highly unnecessary.

"I truly do apologize for my impolite reaction. I've just never seen ears like those before. Are... my ears strange to you?" she asked, cupping both her pointed ears.

The man, gazing at the princess's ears, slowly lowers his hands.

He gives a small nod, hoping not to have offended her with his honesty.

Now stuck in a state of bemusement, they both end up letting out a laugh after seconds of silence.

They then exchange shy smiles as the magic of love leads them to hold each other's left and right hands, interlocking their fingers together.

...

After a time skip, this song begins to play.

Inside Princess Clara's cottage castle, her organ is being cheerfully played by the young man who is now her friend.

She happily claps along to the tune while her animal companions are dancing and do-si-do-ing with each other.

In the evening, the two engage in a slow waltz together by a small lake, gentle smiles on their faces as they step and spin.

Upon nightfall, the pair sit side by side with their legs criss-crossed in front of the same lake under a flowering tree while peacefully observing the fishes inside the water who spurt water trickles from their lips.

Love was literally present in the air as those trickles took on the shape of hearts.

When the princess lets out a sigh, she slowly leans her head against the man's shoulder as he looks down at her with a soft smile.

Leaning down, he presses a kiss on her forehead, and a light show of fireflies appear around the couple, forming a massive heart around them.

A swarm of fireflies then fly by, and the scene transitions to a snowy winter wedding taking place in a meadow as Princess Clara and the man, now her husband, are joined in matrimony.

After the groom and bride's lips meet, the wedding guests, Princess Clara's animal companions, cheer as flower petals and confetti are merrily whisked into the air.

After taking their first steps together into a new life down a small staircase, the newlyweds began their walk down the aisle, approaching their awaiting carriage, which was entirely made of gingerbread and decorated with frosting and various colorful candies.

Princess Clara's husband opens the carriage door for her with a gentlemanly bow, and she curtsies to him to show her appreciation before entering.

After both partners are aboard the cookie-candy carriage, it begins riding off into the woods as the animals wave them goodbye with hankerchiefs.

...

The carriage arrives at a large gingerbread house.

Being the first to step out of the carriage, Princess Clara's husband helps his new bride out bridal style.

Trying to enter the open entrance of the house with his wife, the husband bumps into its sides.

He makes another attempt to get in, but the outcome remains the same.

It seems that he and the princess are too big to fit through the small entrance.

However, an idea comes to the husband's mind as he positions himself sideways.

The initial plan was to go inside that way, but he ended up simply walking forward with great force, causing minor damage to the sides of the cookie house when he finally managed to get inside.

Gently lowering his beloved down, the two are about to lean in for a kiss when suddenly a mistletoe on a string comes between them from the ceiling, making the romantic moment even better.

This causes the couple to giggle as they continue leaning forward. Just as they are about to kiss, the solid chocolate bar door of the house shuts on its own.

The words "The End" are displayed on the door in pink frosting with a heart around it as the medieval melody comes to an end.

Their honeymoon was going to be wonderful as well as the rest of their days together.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Expensive Tastes: Noctis Caelum x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Lingerie, teasing, dirty talk

Some foreplay and teasing in this one uwu

He could feel the bruises forming silently all over his body, he could feel his muscles slowly tightening from overworking himself during training. Gladio had made it very clear in training today how easy it was to fling the young prince everywhere as if he were a dog’s toy. The number of times he had to warp to avoid colliding with the walls or the floors had run him exhausted and sore. He was utterly drained, left to trudge to his chambers as he dreamed of his bed.

A soft hum radiated from his chest, pale lips flicking up into a very slight blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile. Soft, clean silky sheets that smelled of lavender and a hint of sylleblossom the maids had just laid down on his oversized bed. Overstuffed pillows made of the finest materials sitting, waiting, fluffed up waiting for him to rest his head and slip into the realm of unconsciousness. He wanted to feel your presence next to him, feel your weight pushed up against him, hands balled up in his shirt, your warmth mixing with his under the soft covers.

Only, when he opened up the large doors to his bedroom, he didn’t see you sitting on the bed waiting for him. You normally did when he had training. You were always there waiting, almost as if you knew it would’ve been hell, like you knew Gladio would throw him around like it was nothing or Ignis outsmarting him at every turn. It was even worse whenever he would need to train with Cor (or even worse, the two times he had to train with Clarus). You would always be there at the foot of the bed, waiting for him to come in and start ranting about training, sometimes with a book in your hands from the grand library or sometimes with your phone idly waiting.

But you weren’t there. Not at the foot of the bed, not looking out the window to watch the city from so high up or watching the rain clouds pass by, not in the chairs off to the wall.

Instead, he saw the door to his bathroom closed, the gap under the door light up with the pale yellow lights from inside.

Upon closer inspection of the room, he noticed something by the side of the bed; Your clothes, all pooled and kicked to the side with your shoes. Noctis swallowed, glancing to the bathroom door where he realized there was music playing softly from behind the door.

Noctis stepped inside the room and made sure to close and lock the door behind him. He slowly stepped forward, closer to the bed, keeping his eyes glued to the bathroom door.

It was almost like you hear him in the bedroom as you opened the bathroom door. Light spilled into the dim bedroom. Noctis stood there light a deer in the headlights, eyes suddenly glued to the feminine form standing in the doorway.

He felt his pale cheeks heat up once more, but it wasn’t from exhaustion.

In the doorway to the bathroom stood you.

You had a black silken robe held closed by one hand, long expensive silk draping down your legs and stopping by your ankles. Your hand only protected your chest and stomach from being exposed, it hung open slightly, just enough to create a slit and expose one of your legs.

And boy was it a treat to him.

Your exposed leg was wrapped in skin-tight black lace. You were wearing knee-high stockings, and the hem was frilly and flowery. Black lace against your skin was an art to him, to hell with the paintings and portraits lining the hallways of the Citadel. You had makeup on, eyelids painted dark and lips glossy. He wanted to mess up that gloss.

“I heard training today was rough,” you acknowledged. No doubt you could see the bruises on his hands. You leaned against the doorframe and eyed him from under painted eyes, eyelashes fluttering. “I thought I’d do something to cheer you up.”

Noctis stood there, just staring at your one exposed leg wrapped in expensive Altissian lace, lips ever so slightly parted and his pale cheeks set ablaze.

“And what- how would you do that?” he stumbled over his tongue.

It was as if time had played in slow motion. He saw you let go of the front of the silken night robe hiding the rest of your body from his wanting eyes. The Silk fell back, and with a soft roll of your shoulders, the silk had suddenly found itself pooled to the floor like the rest of your clothing from earlier. Noctis felt his starlit blue eyes widen, felt his jaw unhinged just a bit more, he felt his heart suddenly start sprinting like the time he and Prompto pranked a raging Gladio.

The expensive black Altissian lace didn’t just stop at pricey stockings, you were wrapped in it so elegantly, he would have thought you were a present sent from the Astrals themselves. A present he almost didn’t want to open, you were wrapped too perfectly.

But he couldn’t let such a present go unopened.

Your bra was solid black, lace frilling underneath the cups. The straps were lace and thick and wrapped up behind your neck. In between the cups laid the littlest bow, a shiny stone weaved into the knot. Noctis briefly wondered if he could undo that little bow with his teeth to free your breasts. He wanted to massage them, kiss them, squeeze them; Worship them like one would an Astral.

You wore a pair of hipster panties. The middle was solid material, a shiny black. The sides were lace and hung high on your hips, hugging your hips and showing all of your curves. And just like your bra, the hemlines were lacey and there was a matching bow that sat right below your belly button, same glittering stone and all.

A present sent from the Astrals indeed.

“Wow,” was all Noctis could say, but it was just a mere whisper.

You slowly strolled towards him, swaying those hips of your, your eyes pinned on him. Your pupils were blown wide with lust. Noctis backed up with every step you took towards him, the music from the bathroom suddenly raging in his ears like it were a dream. With every step you took forwards towards him, he backed up one until his knees hit the mattress and he lost his balance, falling back onto the bed. You were standing there before him not too long after, watching him as he sat up on the bed. He was suddenly no longer exhausted from training all afternoon anymore.

“I could use some of that cheering up,” Noctis murmured under his breath, chest heaving at the sight of you standing above him.

Without a second thought you had reached up to behind your neck and unclasped the strap, letting the expensive bra you were wearing fall to the floor like it was some cheap thing.

Your breasts were free and out there on show to him, but something of his wasn’t. He could feel the electric shocks running all through his body, and he could definitely feel his pants getting slowly tighter in the crotch.

You had suddenly caged him. You propped one knee up next to his hip on the mattress, then the next. You placed one hand on Noctis’ chest and pushed him down, trailing a finger along his collarbones and down his chest. He really hoped you couldn’t feel his heart pounding against his ribcage as you stroked him through his shirt (but he really hoped you felt the tent in his pants).

You leaned down slightly and smiled at him. Noctis was sure by now that his face was beet red and he wasn’t sure he could keep a hold of constant eye contact with you. All he could think to do was to grab ahold of you, to steady you for whatever you were planning in that devious head of yours. He loved sinking his fingers into your hips, he wrapped his fingertips around the waistband of your panties.

He couldn’t handle it anymore; The teasing, the soft music still radiating from the bathroom, how the lighting just hit your body just right, how perfect you looked in black lace and silk.

He couldn’t handle the strain and tenting going on in his boxers and why is it so hot in here?

He was suffocating sitting there, looking at you, watching as you coyly smiled, looping your arms loosely around his neck, feeling you move around on his lap. His fingertips dug dangerously deep into your thighs and hips, nails biting into the material.

It was when he felt you grind against his erection did he finally snap.

He didn’t know he could move that fast, all of that training with Gladio and Ignis (and he shuddered as the brief thought of Cor stabbing at his feet with his sword) helped his reflexes, he had suddenly pinned you to the bed by the shoulders, a short gasp escaping your glossy lips.

Noctis’ fingers wrapped even tighter around the waistband of your panties and yanked them down your legs.

You flushed at the outline hidden inside the confinements of his underwear. Cock straining, erect, yet tortured to be stuck into tightening underwear.

Without a second thought, Noctis’ sweatpants dropped to the floor, the young prince quickly kicking them out of the way.

“You drive me crazy,” Noctis growled above you, hands snatching at your bare hips.

Your eyes held a sly shine to them, lips cheshire, loosely locking your stocking ankles behind his lower back.

“I’m just catering to your expensive tastes.”

[r0zez-in-bl00m]

A new au which has been rotting my brain all day- A serial killer Riddle having a bad day.

(warnings- mentions of blood, gore, murder, gutting, alcohol.)

In the otherwise quiet town situated at the heart of the Queendom of roses, mysterious deaths have started to plague the residents almost at the end of every three weeks. Bodies mutilated, found in bizzare places and a single motif to distinguish this kill spree- a rose carved on the body. The police had their heads in hands with no leads but angry complaints from the grieving families.

The town is drawing breaths, anticipation of the next kill keeping it on its toes, and do is the killer himself as he downs another bottle of whiskey bitterly (he isn't a whiskey guy anyway).

Riddle comes from an affluent family of magical doctors, has a good post at the hospital as a magical doctor (which he became reluctantly), has a good home at a walking distance (his mother never even wanted him to buy a house), and everyone admires him, respects him or are jealous of him. He even gets marriage proposals every week (curtsey of his mother). Then, why is it that he indulges in the thrill of the kill, of their fearful face chock full of snot and tears moments before their misfortune, and carve them up with roses? What does he gain by doing this? As the main culprit himself he has no idea. He tries to quit, or so he thinks while he sharpens his knife that still has blood on it. Even rationalising such a terrible crime puts a pit in his stomach, but no one has ever suspected him, the sweet doctor who is a great mage, as a cold blooded killer so he keeps on dying in self-loathing.

Riddle wears a mask of a confident and a respectable doctor. It’s a meticulously crafted piece of art, one that Riddle is not proud of but has to maintain. He is a perfectionist, he wouldn’t have anything less than that. He maintains it in front of his family, his best friend, his colleagues and patients. But, then comes you.

He has no idea why, but he finds you fascinating and annoying enough to kill at the same time. You aren’t like the other sinners he has gotten rid of (yes, so much for rationalising when he totally rationalises it). But still, you also couldn’t be far from them. He greets you everyday with that practiced, confident smile and you reciprocate warmly.... Only to grumble later on how much of a stick in the mud he is back in your office. And of course he hears you every time, his veins about to pop out of his forehead as he works his documents. Don't you know that walls have ears? Or are you doing it deliberately so that he can punish you as well. Then he hears you ranting about your ex to your unfortunate friend, and all the details he didn't need to hear. His poor chair might as well break from the pressure. Yup, he ought to kill you sooner than later.

But, imagine his surprise when he finds you and you find him in an awkward, compromising and gory situation where a heart is clenched tightly in his first and you staring at the sliced open corpse of his latest freshly hunted victim. Your eyes continuously flick from his hooded figure fo the corpse, shaking like leaf. Riddle sighs in annoyance. He knows. He knows he has to silence you, kill you and open you up like the gentleman beside him, but doesn’t. He can’t. He is like a deer caught in headlights. His slate eyes never leaves yours, and he wonders what will you do. You slowly back away, never breaking eye contact, your purse clenched tightly in one arm, and dash out of the crime scene.

Oh, you ran. Riddle should chase after you to stop you but you must have covered quite a distance or told someone about already about it by now. Priority of escape comes first. He quickly covers up his tools, checks for anything that might direct back to him and runs for his home. Riddle had anticipated that this day would come, but he imagined cops cuffing him, not you finding him in a dark alley.

His once safe haven feels more like a prison cell. He paces all night, his eyes boring holes into his phone screen. No calls, no messages, no pounding of the door by police. Riddle's heart beats so fast that he thinks he might collapse. Is this what apprehension feels like? He imagines the look on his mother's face, on his friends and the colleagues he works with. A talented magical doctor a serial killer. A wolf in sheeps clothing. He never sleeps that night.

Come morning he becomes sure that you didn’t see his face because he kept on checking in for more calls and messages but all he found was the new headlines of his sloppily executed kill. He was wearing a hoodie after all, so you didn’t report about him but the murder itself. He breathed out, and jump out of bed. Now, to get ready for work.

He arrives earlier than usual, carefully greets the faculty as his legs carry him to his office.

Riddle expected a cup of nice tea, biscuits and his usual long stack of papers when he entered his office, not you scrounging around his office like a thief. Then you ask the most sour question that Riddle was expectant of since last night- “It was you right? The one who committed the murder last night.” Riddle feels like ripping out his hair. Now, what should he do about this?

[dc-said-bi-robin-rights]

Joey’s never liked the cabin.

He doesn’t hate it, not like Rose does, but he’s never liked it. Never. No matter how much Slade and Grant called him a wuss for it, Joey never quite warmed up to the concept of living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, isolated and with no one around for miles, for large periods of time with only his fucked-up family for company. And if he didn’t like the idea of it, he disliked the execution even more—disliked the animal heads Slade mounts on the walls, disliked the deerskin rugs that decorate the floors, disliked the pretentious mythological artwork hung up in the bedrooms (Slade liked Achilles, even though he didn’t understand him), and specially disliked the way it felt like his Pop’s domain, like the rest of them were just guests in someone else’s house despite the fact he had supposedly built the cabin for them.

The things he disliked most about the cabin, however, were also the things that had brought him the most joy as a child: the statuettes.

Slade had never liked art, and he had called Joey a garden variety of words that would now be considered slurs for not being made of the same stuff as him and Grant more that once, but he had never begrudged his son his love for art or his gentle nature. Rather, he had prized it, encouraged it even, holding it up for anyone who would listen as irrefutable proof of the fact that he was capable of making something good, that Slade Joseph Wilson’s only legacy wouldn’t be violence and death and broken things. The statuettes had been part of that.

It had been Joey idea, of course. Slade had no mind for painting, but his hands were steady and his fingers precise—too precise, far too precise, even hiding it, specially hiding it—and he had taken to woodcarving like he had been born to it. The two of them had developed a system, eventually: every time Slade went on one of his “safari trips”, he would carve a statuette of the biggest animal he had managed to hunt on that trip and bring it back with him when he returned home so Joey could hee and haw over it for a little while before moving on to something else. Sometimes the statuettes were normal things, like deer (antelope, his father would correct him sometimes, or moose, or gazelle, but to Joey they were all deer), but other times they were stranger animals, fiercer animals, things people weren’t supposed to hunt in the way Joey understood the word, like sharks or elephants or even bears. He would ask his mom about it often, while his father was gone, but Adeline would only laugh and say Slade made those hunts up so he wouldn’t get bored of the statuettes… if she was feeling particularly kind that day. Otherwise, she would scoff and reply that Slade “had an active imagination” for achievements he felt he was owed regardless of whether he had earned them or not. Joey had always gotten the feeling she wasn’t talking about the statuettes anymore when she would say that and would quickly extricate himself from the conversation as soon as he could, leaving his mother to her mutterings, which would often continue long after he had left the kitchen.

Joey hadn’t believed the statuettes were fake valor then and he still doesn’t believe it now, even knowing what he now knows about his father’s “safari trips”. The stuffed shark head that once sat in the closet but now hangs above the fireplace is proof enough that not all of his father’s hunting trips were invented, if indeed any of them ever were. More likely he took the opportunity to indulge in both his hobby and his actual occupation while he was away from home, leaving his wife and two kids alone in a world in which he had painted a target on their backs. It would certainly fit with his actions up until that point.

One day, Joey had gotten the bright idea to try and replicate his father’s work while the man himself was away, just for the fun of it, and that had been incorporated into the system as well when he came back: Joey’s replica would stay in the family home in Vermont from now, and Slade’s original would have a place of honor on the mantelpiece of the cabin. It was a perfect arrangement, and it suited the imperfect father just as perfectly, so much so that Slade had once joked that he would have to go on safari trips more often, so eager was he to witness his son’s often superior replicas of his work. They had all laughed, then. Now, just the thought of that makes Joey feel likes he’s going to be violently sick.

Had he—had his innocent wish to impress his father by creating better replicas of whatever he had carved on his trips—been responsible for someone’s death? How many people had Joey indirectly killed by giving Slade Wilson a reason to hurry home every time he left? One? None? Many?

Joey doesn’t know, and it makes him want to take a knife to his own arm whenever he thinks about it, so he pushes the rogue thought aside and concentrates on navigating his vehicle through the trees ahead of him. He’s wearing long sleeves, as always, but Rose isn’t stupid: if his knife is even a centimeter off and his cut begins to bleed, she will notice, and there is no way in hell he can play off preferring to keep his sleeves rolled down when there’s an open cut on his arm. Joey has kept his cutting a secret from the rest of his family for a good decade, he isn’t about to be discovered on the one day that should only be about her little sister and her mental health.

Speaking of his little sister…

Rose is leaning against the cabin wall with her arms crossed, clad hair to toe in motorcycle leathers next to the sleek shape of her Harley. She looks up as his beat-up van struggles into the clearing, and Joey exhales in disappointment when he sees the cigarette wedged between her bottom and top lip trailing smoke into the air. He really did think she’d quit for good this time when he’d suggested she keep an unlit cigarette in her mouth whenever she felt stressed just to ward off the temptation. He had read about it in a book somewhere, how it apparently helped smokers in the process of quitting feel at ease without giving them the temptation to actually smoke. Evidently, he needed to read better books.

Shaking his head, he shifts the stick into its ‘park’ setting and climbs out of the van, nodding at Rose when she flicks her gaze over to him and raising his hands to sign. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Rose mutters, taking one final puff of her cigarette and leaning her head back against the wooden wall of the cabin with a sigh, closing her one eye a moment after as if in indifference.

Joey knows better, though, is maybe the only person in the whole wide world who knows better, so he simply waits until Rose is done gathering herself before speaking again, his lips curling into a smile. He knows Rose is wearing her motorcycle leathers instead of the sweater and beanie combo she would usually wear to an excursion such as this one because they feel more familiar on her skin than the alternative, but he can’t resist to urge to tease his sister a little over it. “Nice outfit.”

“Shut up,” she retorts, opening her eye and letting the cigarette drop onto the porch, stomping on it a moment after to ensure she doesn’t accidentally ruin their plans for the day. She pushes away from the wooden wall and walks up to the back of the van, quirking an eyebrow at him when he walks around to stand beside her. “Slade?”

Joey raises his hands to sign… before lowering them when he remembers that full conversations are still past his sister’s understanding of ASL and turning on his subvocal transmitter on instead. He doesn’t like using it much on account of the excessively robotic tone it assigns his voice, but… well, this is a special occasion, after all.

“He thinks we’re gonna have a picnic.” Joey dips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a keyring, twirling it around his finger with a smug smile. He doesn’t hate the cabin, but he does hate Pops a little, and that’s reason enough for him to smile about what’s about to happen. “Even gave me the emergency keys so we wouldn’t have to bother him about setting up the new biometrics.”

“Of course he did,” Rose snorts, shaking her head at their father’s complete lack of awareness regarding his children before looking back at Joey and putting a hand on her hip. “You got the stuff?”

Joey rolls his eyes at the dramatic, tv-like phrasing and walks forward, unlatching the van’s safety mechanisms and pulling open the door to reveal several gasoline containers in sizes that have been illegal since the 60’s. Joey still thinks it’s overkill, but if Rose wants this place gone from the map, who is he to object? “Yep. You owe me, like, half a grand, by the way.”

The gasoline had actually been nearly three and a half grand, but Joey is the Vice President of a large company and Rose hasn’t actually charged her clients anything for her “mercenary work”—which, these days, just seems like normal vigilante work with extra steps—in months, so he doesn’t mind footing the bill a bit just this once, even though his sister would probably find his little white lie condescending in the extreme.

“Ask Slade to cover it,” Rose replies flatly as she walks forward and grabs up a container one-handed, pulling it out of the vehicle like it weighed nothing and bringing her knee up momentarily so she can hold it against something as she unscrews the cap. “It’s his fault we’re doing this in the first place.”

Joey can’t argue with that. “Fair enough.”

Rose holds the gasoline up to her nose and takes a sniff, grimacing when it does, in fact, turn out to be gasoline—way to trust a guy, little sis!—before looking up at him with a frown. “You sure you don’t want in on the action? D-Slade messed with you even more than he messed with me.”

Joey shakes his head and leans forward to grab a thick plastic bag from the van, noting Rose’s slip-up somewhere in the back of his mind. “I don’t think competing with each other about who Pops hurt the worst this time is something we should be doing in the first place, for the record, but no thanks. You have fun, though.”

“Oh, I will,” Rose says, eyeing the gasoline container with something like hunger in her eyes. Joey briefly wonders if he made a mistake by agreeing to this before dismissing the thought as too self-righteous by half and giving her a competitive check on the shoulder as he walks past her and climbs up the stairs to the porch, laughing when Rose scoffs in amusement and follows after him, tilting the containers so that she leaves a trail of gasoline in her wake.

As he and Rose walk up to the front door, a panel on either side of it retracts, revealing a square hole with a brand-new biometrics scanner inside of it on the lefthand side of the door and a hollow cylinder on the right. Joey grins and tosses the keyring into the air, catching it by the single jagged, cone-shaped key it contains when it comes down and inserting the key into the cylinder. There’s a buzz, and Joey moves the key around in the cylinder before two sharp beeps ring out and the door unlocks. He turns to look at Rose and grins, making a show of pulling the door open for her with a stiff sweep of his hand reminiscent of Wintergreen’s excessively British mannerisms. Rose rolls her eyes at the bad impression and walks forward, pausing only to stand on her tiptoes and kiss his cheek before walking inside the cabin.

“Come on!” Joey calls after her, his grin widening. “Not even a snort?”

There’s no answer, so Joey sighs and follows after her, stumbling halfway through the doorway when the living room rises up to meet his eyes like a fuzzy, half-remembered memory. It’s a simple space, made entirely of wood, with six windows, a table for four, and a small fireplace above which hang the heads of half a dozen different animals with plaques underneath detailing the exact time and means of their deaths. Everything looks exactly as it should.

Shaking off his sudden disorientation, Joey turns to look at Rose and finds her gaze lingering on the far corner a beat longer than is necessary before looking away. He resolves not to ask, though he has a feeling he knows what happened there.

“Well,” Rose says eventually, giving him a glance out of the corner of her one eye. “What are we waiting for?”

Joey doesn’t need to be told twice.

They go room to room, Joey grabbing anything that stands out to him and stuffing it in the bag while Rose drenches every last inch of the floor in gasoline, making several trips on account of how overboard she’s going. There is a tightness to her face, a viciousness, a kind of hunger in her eyes that she’s doing a bad job of suppressing. She knows exactly how much this place means to their father, knows it is the one place he still considers his beyond its usefulness as a safe house, and not only does she not care, the thought excites her. Look at me, Slade Wilson, Joey can’t help but think she’s saying in her head. Look at me as I take something from you for a change.

Joey doesn’t hate the cabin, but he doesn’t love it either, so all he does is shoot her a thumbs-up and a smile when she turns to look at him. It doesn’t make her laugh, doesn’t even make her smile, though her lips do quirk up slightly when she responds by sending him an eyeroll and walking out of the room, and maybe that’s enough of a victory to still count under the circumstances.

~~

“Hey, Joey!” he heard Rose’s voice call out from outside the cabin. “You coming or what?”

Joey doesn’t answer, focused as he is on the statuettes on the mantelpiece. Should he save them, the way he saved the few family pictures that hadn’t been looted by either Slade or Adeline in the years following Grant’s death? Should he leave them to burn in the coming inferno?

What do they mean to him, really? Does he—

“I’m freezing out here, Joey!” Rose’s voice, again.

“I’m coming, hold on!” Joey responds, quickly throwing the statuettes into the bag and heaving it over his shoulder as he walks out to find the sun already long gone from the sky and Rose waiting for him with her hands in her pockets next to the very last container, which is open and dripping down gasoline even now. It’s an oddly beautiful sight, all things considered, thanks to the way Rose’s milk white hair is backlit by the moon and the peculiar silvery sheen that comes from the thick, oily gasoline doing its very best to reflect the starlight. It would make a good painting, Joey suddenly thinks, digging his phone out of his pocket and taking a picture before putting it away and walking over to Rose, who eyes him and specially the bag over his shoulder dubiously but says nothing.

She looks so much like their dad even in the dark.

“You wanna do the honors?” she offers, pulling out her lighter and tilting it towards him.

“It’s your day,” Joey says, putting the bag down on the ground. “You do it.”

Rose shrugs, her other hand emerging from her pocket with a cigarette. She sticks it in her mouth, lights it, takes a single puff from it, and then tosses it at the ground.

Flame leaps up in front of them and rushes towards the house, and soon Joey’s vision is entirely consumed by flames. He and Rose just stare for a while, before his gaze slides down to the bag still clutched tightly in his left hand by his feet.

He thinks about a lot of things, in that moment. He thinks about the good times. About Grant. About those few times his Pops came home to a happy house that was as happy to see him as he was to see them.

He also thinks about everything else. The way Grant died. The way his mom and dad hit each other all the time and he just had to listen to it happening. How Slade slept with his fiancée. How Slade turned his boyfriend into a monster. And he makes his decision.

He hands a bemused Rose the bag with a smile that looks just a bit too wide to fool anyone this time. “Ten bucks if you manage to get it unto the terrace before it collapses.”

Rose looks down at the bag, then up at him. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

She shrugs and extends her leg, the ghost of a grin coming onto her face at the prospect of some fun to wrap up this depressing, horrible night. “Fine, have it your way. Just don’t come crying back to me when you’re short ten bucks.”

“I didn’t know trash talk improved your performance,” he quips, and there is definitely a glint in Rose’s eye now.

“Oh, you’re on.” Rose tenses her back leg, muscles straining as she rapidly turns and lobs the bag in an arc that goes a good ten meters in the air before ending atop the burning terrace, as Joey knew it would. She grins—actually grins, wide and happy and smug and brilliant, and maybe none of this even matters as long as he can make his sister grin like that. “Ha! In your face, Joey!”

Joey’s smile is soft as he shakes his head. “Don’t get an ego over it, sis.”

She grins wider, more giddy than she’s been in a while. “What? Butthurt I beat your challenge fair and square?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Joey opens his arms, and for once his sister accepts without an eyeroll, squeezing his waist in a quick hug before shifting over to lay her head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and turns to look at the burning cabin. “It’s kinda pretty, isn’t it? The way the colors…”

“Joey?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Fine.” He lays his head on top of hers and smiles. “Happy birthday, Rose.”

“…Thanks, Joey.”

They stay like that for some time, watching the cabin burn.

[myfeelsaboutships]

Steve’s family house is cold and white and modern and sterile. Wide empty flat surfaces that Steve wasn’t allowed to get messy and pristine white carpet he wasn’t allowed to play on.

Steve doesn’t want that in his and Eddie’s apartment, but Eddie’s idea of furniture is a mattress on the floor, but Steve is an Adult (and a bit of a snob). So they slowly fill their place with old fashioned furniture from flea markets and estate sales.

Steve also considers himself someone with Good Taste, so he refuses to decorate with heavy metal posters and wizard figurines. They compromise on spooky fine art prints and framed concert art, with the occasional dramatic flea market oil painting.

Eddie insists on getting everything just right, and constantly rearranges the stuff on the walls, which drives Steve crazy. Steve refuses to let Eddie get a taxidermy deer head, but let’s him have as many ridiculous candelabras as he wants (as long as he doesn’t get wax on the furniture).

[pastel-rights]

whats the most iconic/memorable thing abt ur friends

what ISN'T memorable about my friends tbh. /lh

hmmm.... let me think.

Tae - Well in light of... recent events!! Tae trying to give me roses is right and present in my mind!! /lh/pos

but for most memorable... shit, there's a lot tbh. If I had to choose something though... I'd have to go with either "Move it, pretty boy!" or the day she told me Morningstar can't count/do basic math.

Oh and whenever I hear "I Love You Like An Alcoholic" or "This Day Aria" I will think of you.

Sam - "Is it Sammmmmuelllllll?" [ thanks for that one, mama!! /j ]

There's also the day me and Sam learned there's a KFC dating sim and we just lost our shit. Or them on their [ fake ] marriage counselor/priest/divorce attorney arc.

Or Dan the Divorce Deer!!! We still have tea sometimes, they're the best!

Or Immortalpheus with the questionnaire. Now THAT is the funniest shit I've ever been subjected to.

Navi - I always think of how Navi had that train conductor crisis and giggle. It's just so... Navi!! /lh

Fifi - Timothy has severely traumatized me.

Pins - YOU CALLED ME A FURINA KINNIE IM IN TEARS. IM NOT A FURINA KINNIE!!!! is this how Tae feels when she gets called a Light kinnie /j

Oh and your Jade musing arc was also pretty memorable to me!! Your Jade is so funny /pos

Clown - Clown's stepparent shenanigans are so fucking funny, and I never thought I would have a muse to accidentally become a part of them. /pos

Orange - Anytime Orange would entrust me to be their anon crime messenger was pretty funny yknow I think Orange is funny as FUCK.

Boris - the fool's gold simping arc. But I also giggle whenever I see their art, it lives rent free in my head it's SOOO good.

Klai - I always will think of Narrator Phineas when I think of Klai. I don't know what it is, but Klai loving Narrator Phineas as much as they do fills me with a warm and fuzzy feeling. /pos

Beth - i

i'm so sorry

the tram beth. the tram /lh

But I also will always and forever think of the commission of Susannah and Beth you did for me!!! And the next commission will go right next to it once it's finished🫶I want to get them printed out and put on my walls, will update you if I ever get to it. /gen

Marioguy - Brendan trying to murk Hare the moment they met will never NOT baffle me. congrats.

Emma - "only one monster lover can exist in this server. GET EM!"