#dove does stuff

[plantswithme]

was thinking about sam and bucky having the locket app and using it to send photos to update each other on their day :’)

it gets used a lot when sam’s busy with cap stuff and away on missions, they love the app cause it’s fast and easy bc they don’t always have time to facetime, so getting updates like this from each other is comforting

(if you don’t know what locket is it’s basically an app where you take a photo and send it to someone you have added on the app as a friend and it appears on their homescreen like this, it’s actually very fun, i use with my best friend who lives in canada)

things sam sends bucky

things bucky sends sam

[clay-pidgeon]

the cunt servitude emanating from carol...rachels gayass little bowtie...jos whole ensembles giving such insane rich widow vibes...im obsessed w this picture and will not be able to rest until i get to watch this episode

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

ohhh for the event can I get Vil and prompt 3 with reader as the ghost? ^_^

Words Unsaid; Vil Schoenheit

Content; Gender-neutral reader, angst, pining

Content Warning; Reader death (not described)

Word Count; 700+

A/N; Hi Haru! ... I decided to lean more into angst; I am so sorry Vil.

Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!

Vil’s hands were shaking, and he tried to make a sound but his voice was caught in his throat. 

His breath came out in white puffs, the Pomefiore lounge had become freezing cold as the fire died out. Dim light from the filtered moonlight cast everything in silver and greys. Long shadows crept across the floor like they were reaching out for him.

Vil.

It was barely audible, but Vil could hear the gentle hiss of his own name whispered into his ear, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He took in a deep breath though, trying to calm his racing heart which betrayed how affected he was by his current circumstances.

He closed his eyes, shutting out everything else and focused solely on what he could hear. And with how on edge he was, he could have heard a pin drop. But he didn’t hear anything. That was the issue, alongside everything else.

Normally he would have been able to hear the muffled snoring of his fellow dorm members, or the gentle ticking of the clock, or even the standard sounds that an older building may make. But he heard nothing. Only the steady thump thump of his heart in his ears.

Vil opened his eyes again, and he stared at the figure that was now standing within arm’s reach of him.

It was you, but not as Vil knew you.

You floated closer towards him, and Vil dared not to move.

Ghost, spectre, phantom. That was what you now were.

But he had seen you that very day. Still very much alive. Still breathing.

“What happened,” he whispered, taking a step forward, trying to close the distance. 

You moved back, and looked him in the eyes as tears fell down your cheeks. And then you vanished, the fire coming back to life, and all the sounds coming back.

Vil raked his hands through his hair, trying to come to some reasonable answer for why you were here, why you were a ghost. And he found himself running as fast as his legs would carry him, coming to a halt at Ramshackle.

He knocked at the door, but there was no answer. He knocked again and called your name. But all he was answered with was silence, and a sense of dread taking hold.

Please forgive me.

He knocked the door down with his magic, and made his way into the house. Vil looked in every room of the mansion, but all he found was dust; even Grim was nowhere to be seen.

This is a nightmare— No it isn’t, you know that. But how he wanted this to be nothing more than just a simple nightmare. If only it were as easy as that.

His breath came out in white puffs again, and everything stilled like time itself was frozen.

“Please,” Vil could barely recognize his own voice, desperation was something he was not well acquainted with, “tell me.”

You stayed out of sight though and stared at Vil, wanting nothing more than to embrace him. To feel his warmth one more time. To tell him something that had been weighing heavy on your chest for months.

You never had the chance, always being pulled in every which way or dealing with one problem or another. And now? 

… it would not serve either of you any good. It would only cause more heartbreak, a tragedy that belonged in a play really, instead of reality.

Vil clenched his fist and rolled back his shoulders, “You’re still here, so you have something left that must be important. Let me help you.”

Something left, was in fact, someone.

Vil had always been outside of your reach, a star high up in the sky, and that distance was now further than ever.

That’s why you said nothing of your own feelings about him.

That’s why you said nothing, leaving the words unsaid.

“You can’t. Please, forget about me.”

Vil wouldn’t forget you. He would never forget about you, the person that he could be his entire self around.

Perhaps it was friendship, but something that screamed from his chest that it wasn’t.

And he would never get the chance to see what could be.

~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @bloomstruck @eynnwwyjth @ithseem @moonsoup01637 @lucid-stories @syrenkitsune @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[keeskiwi]

Avian August day 11 - Pink-headed fruit-dove

[softguarnere]

Not to sound overdramatic, but my ADHD is being treated for the first time in my entire life, and I genuinely did not realize that there were this many hours in the day. I've written three fics in a row, completed paperwork I needed to fill out, started setting up my journal for 2025, and there's still time left in the day! Amazing. I think I can get used to this

[doodlingwren]

Every now and then I always find myself wondering. What if I made a Saint Seiya fan character. And I always end up realizing I don't really want to bother. I'll keep drawing my usual bunch of idiots that already exist in the franchise and bye bye

[another-clive-blog]

I simply love Clive Dove, his character is a poem to me. His parents died in a fire ten years ago. Every plan and success he's achieved ever since- they are all means to causing destruction. It's not even despicable means for a greater end, it is just atrocious and fortuitous destruction. He does this because he can and he feels like it, and if he could do more he would without a second thought. He doesn't even cause pain because he likes it, he does it because he's hurting therefore others should be hurting too. Everything he touches turns to ashes. His parents died in a fire ten years ago.

[mirrors-writing]

After about a month of writing just random scenes in a nonsensical order as they came to me, I've finally nailed down exactly what I want my Cerulean Seas fic to be and have a proper outline.

It's definitely gone a few steps more on whump side of things, and I've given up on trying to match the tone of the books, but! I do find myself thinking of Little Miss Sunshine (2008) a lot while planning out scenes, to give you an idea where it lands tonally. While all the characters get a little moment via phone calls or something along those lines, the fic features (only) Arthur, Linus, and Sal as main characters on an impromptu road trip.

Getting the outline finished today!! I'm so excited to have a focused vision with this project now!!!

[plantswithme]

[clay-pidgeon]

straight up smoky it. and by "it", heh. my emperor moth

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

I'm not sure if your event is open just yet (potential time differences) but may I request Lilia, as the ghost, with the prompt 6.Bump in the night with romantic, fluff and maybe a bit of horror cause we know Lilia likes to scare people please?

I'm so sorry if I didn't do this right 😅

Bump in the Night; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, implied romantic feelings/pining

Content Warning; Swearing, light fear

Word Count; 700+

A/N; I hope you like what I came up with, Lilia will always be a little imp. And don't worry about formatting, you did everything perfectly!

Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!

You were grumbling to yourself as you lit some candles while holding a flashlight under your chin.

The power had gone out due to a blizzard, right when you were in the middle of catching up on your favourite show. But the weather didn’t care about the plotline or the barely warm soup that was now sitting sadly on your stovetop. No show and no dinner, you were shit out of luck tonight by the looks of it.

So instead, you grabbed all the candles you could find, a small horde of blankets, and hunkered down.

You fidgeted around, picking at some loose strings, and tapping to the beat of the battery-operated clock. 

… bored bored bored THIS SUCKS bored bored bored …

You dragged your hands down your face. Why couldn’t the power go out while you were asleep? Why did it have to go out on one of your only quiet nights to yourself? Why couldn’t the power wait until you had your dinner? 

The wind howled outside as if it were mocking you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and the candles snuffed out, one by one. Not by a draft, or wind, but as if someone was pinching off the flame. The room was cast into darkness, only the pale blue light from outside lighting everything up in a dim silver cast.

Face the issue at hand that had all levels of nope nope NOPE written all over it? Or, hide under the blankets like you were a kid again?

… you hid under the blankets. You reasoned it wasn’t from fear, but rather to conserve your body heat, since hey, the candles died out due to some unforeseen and totally normal reason.

But then you smelt something burning.

There was no power though, nothing was working so why was something burning?

You shuffled to the kitchen and peered out from your blanket cocoon.

The soup, which was barely lukewarm, was now a charred mess of black sludge.

“The hell,” you hissed, eyeing the baffling liquid. Part of your brain was screaming DANGER DANGER DANGER!!! And the other part? It was mourning the loss of your dinner.

A breathy chuckle was in your ear.

You wanted to move, but you couldn’t. You were frozen in place by some unseen force.

You felt delicate fingers trace the back of your neck before they came to a stop at a pulse point, which was easy enough to find since your pulse was beating like a trapped bird trying to escape a cage.

“You always look the same,” the voice whispered, the chuckle and playfulness long gone.

The voice flitted closer, and you could make out a hazy figure in your peripheral vision, but just barely.

The figure, a petite figure, came to a stop in front of you. The only thing about them that felt physical, that was the most clear, were their magenta almost red eyes. They bore down on you with a weight; of knowing, of countless years, of longing, and a mix of grief and mischievous — an odd combination.

“What do you want,” you asked, fighting your mouth to spit out the words.

The man, you assumed the spectre to be a man at least, gave you a soft smile.

He took your face into his cold hands, or at least tried to, and rubbed circles into the apple of your cheeks. “Many things, dearie,” he sighed softly, “but only if you want them too. I’ll leave if you want me to. I just want to see you happy.”

An odd thing to say when you nearly gave me a stroke. 

Despite that near stroke though, you didn’t sense any malevolence from the ghostly figure who held you softly. And despite his cold touch, he was nothing but warmth, but in the sense of a weak candle.

One must just take care of the flame to see it grow.

Time after time, Lilia would find you, his spirit drawn towards yours.

I love you.

Never really said, but it would end in the same way. Him quietly loving you from the sidelines until he found his opening. An opening into your life, and your heart.

~~~~~~~

Taglist; @afunkyfreshblog @bloomstruck @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @moonsoup01637 @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[canid-sys]

Doves new single is incredible- it's also reminding me of how in descendants Mal follows Gilmore Girl naming conventions (how Rory is a nickname of Lorelai and Mal is probably a nickname of Maleficent)

[pingo1387]

at this point i'm going to start tagging all my fics "dead dove: do not eat" regardless of content

[sycamorality]

You are a very awesome sauce 👍

maulks you. you too

[micechicken]

She was the smartest girl in school. And I had an incredible sense of fashion.

--

A bi woman and a lesbian walk into a bar, they say ow

Nicole and her bestfriend from high school Joceline! She was also known as Linn and Ghost (online).

She was the girl that she was closet to in high school and shared all here secrets with. Joceline's family was not very wealthy but Nicole liked buying her things (with her dad's money of course). Linn also helped Nicole realized she was bisexual which she was VERY enthusiastic about.

Together (with other students) they would make short movies or skits for their film class and just for fun. Linn was very skilled with a camera which she owned, even taking photos on the side, which Nicole loved staring in.

Joceline was supposed to be introduced when I made Nicole but I never did until now. She is the species of bird Nicole almost was; a Kiwi!

They keep in touch from time to time but aren't as close anymore. Nicole's ex husband didn't really like Linn so Nicole stopped talking to her. Also Linn helper her deal with the murder.

[softguarnere]

The should really invent clothes that don't feel atrocious against your skin when you wear them