#i dunno how to draw grassy

[sporadicpotatoato]

You guys seemed to like them so

behold, government computer edition :)

[heartss4val]

"COSMIC FEELINGS."

synopsis: you were supposed to go stargazing with percy, but you get carried away. pairing: percy jackson x gn!reader word count: 1.1k

"isn't this like, against the rules?"

it's an hour past curfew. an hour since percy showed up at your cabin with a picnic blanket under his arm and insisted you come with him. he wouldn't tell you where he was taking you; he just held out his hand for you to hold and urged you to trust him.

"not if we don't get caught." percy replies, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. "woulda brought you earlier, if it weren't for those harpies. you can't even imagine how many times i had to run for my life to avoid getting eaten."

you smile at his comment. a comfortable silence settles between you two as percy continues to lead you away from the chaotic camp and deep into the wilderness.

the night air is cool and refreshing, hitting your skin as the tranquil sounds of crickets chirping and owls hooting echo through the air, creating a serene and soothing ambiance that envelops you. you probably would've been lost in your thoughts forever if it weren't for percy coming to an abrupt stop.

"we're here." percy says, letting go of your hand to smooth out the blanket he brought.

looking around, you realize he's led you to a grassy area that offers you both an unobstructed sight of the stars. the crescent moon shines brightly over the camp, and the constellations are incredibly clear and vivid. you can't help but notice the andromeda constellation standing out in the center of the sky. fitting.

as you were lost in thought, percy's voice suddenly breaks through, prompting you to snap back to reality. "well, what are you waiting for?" he asks, his tone playful yet insistent. you realize that he's already settled himself on the blanket, waiting for you to join him.

you're about to respond when, without warning, he latches onto your hand and pulls you towards him, causing you to lose your balance and fall on top of his chest. a surprised yelp escapes your lips as you try to regain your composure, while percy chuckles warmly beneath you.

"was that really necessary?" you ask in faux annoyance, though you don't put up much of a fight that would match your "complaint."

percy, still grinning, replies, "don't blame me, i was getting impatient."

you sigh, melting into percy as he holds you flush against his chest. you can't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. being a demigod isn't easy; or particularly safe. moments like this are rare and precious. you savor the feeling of his warm embrace as he holds you close, cherishing every second of peace and relaxation that you can find together. despite the chaos and danger that often surrounds your lives, moments like this make it all worth it.

percy draws you in closer, kissing the top of your head, and intertwines his hand with yours as if it was made to be held by him and him only.

as his fingers delicately brush against your skin, percy's voice fills the air with a soft whisper, "you know i'd do anything for you, right?" percy all but muttered as his fingers ran down the side of your cheek, awaiting your response.

"where'd that come from?" you ask, slightly caught off guard by his words. not that you were complaining, though. percy only smiled at you in response, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"dunno. just wanted to remind you." he said, his tone gentle and reassuring. "in case you forgot." grinning down at you with a smile so bright it could light up the night sky.

"oh yeah, 'cause i'd totally forget with you reminding me only like 10 times a day." you respond, and percy only laughs a little.

the atmosphere was peaceful and quiet, but not in an awkward way. it was a pleasant silence. nevertheless, you still couldn't help but gaze at the dark-haired boy next to you, taking in his features. his cheeks were slightly rosy, indicative of the chilly weather, and the reflection of stars in his eyes was captivating. you could stare at him forever.

yeah, a sky full of stars and you were staring at his eyes.

percy seemed to take notice of your gaze and quietly remarked, "you're staring." a smile spread across his lips as he looked down at you.

"you caught me." you admitted, putting your hands up in mock defense.

"yeah, well you you made it pretty obvious."

you swatted his chest playfully, but his smile only grew wider. now that you were "caught", you didn't try to hide your gaze anymore. a faint smile curved up your lips as you tenderly ran your finger along the bridge of his nose, playfully booping the tip. he scrunched his face and snickered quietly in response to your movement.

a warmth spread through your heart that could only be caused by hearing the sound of percy's laughter. his laughter, so genuine and carefree, was, as cliché as it sounds, like music to your ears. you know all too well the struggles and hardships he has faced, so seeing him so happy in this moment was truly heartwarming. his face lit up with pure joy, features softened and relaxed. his laughter, whether loud and throaty at a joke someone made, or soft and sleepy like right now, was infectious and you found yourself smiling along with him. his arms tightened around you in a lazy but needy embrace, a desperate attempt to bring you even closer to his body. in this moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of you wrapped up in each other's arms.

"damn, thought we were supposed to be stargazing." you comment, taking a quick glance at the stars before turning back to percy.

"oh, who cares about stars when i have you? you're a better sight, anyway." he replies, followed by a soft yawn but a surprising amount of energy peppering the side of your face with little kisses.

"tell that to Astraeus." you remark, and percy only rolls his eyes in response, clearly more interested in showering you with affection.

you continue to lie there with percy, your legs intertwined as he kisses your forehead every few minutes. no words need to be exchanged; just being together is enough.

you're aware that you should go back to your designated cabins before the harpies catch you, but the peacefulness of the night, combined with percy's embrace, is too good to leave so soon. the chirping of crickets and other night animals fill the air while the moon and stars shine particularly bright with a radiance that surrounds you both.

suddenly, percy breaks the silence, "i love you." "to the moon and back?" "to the moon and back."

a/n

kinda got carried away with this one and forgot i was writing about stargazing.. had to change the synopsis so it would make sense, work smarter not harder 💪💪

also in no world should writing dialogue be this hard.

xx val

[hannahssimblr]

Not coming anymore

Jen’s text message comes in when I’ve already left the house, and I groan as I pull my phone out to see it on the screen. 

Are you serious? I’ve already left the house, you have no idea wh-

I delete the message and phone her instead. She picks up after one ring. 

“Jen, seriously?” 

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“What the hell? My mom was going out again tonight and I had to sort a babysitter for Ivy. It took me an hour, and now I've already showered and changed my clothes. I'm on the way to the beach, are you seriously telling me I have to turn back and undo everything I've just done?”

A pause, “No, you can go. I just can’t.”

“Wh-” I fling my arm up and sigh. She can’t expect me to hang out with the emos without her. What if they get peckish and start eating me? 

“Michelle isn’t allowed to go, so she doesn’t want me to go either.” 

“Oh I see, so Michelle just asked at the last minute. And was shocked and appalled that she’s not allowed? How stupid is that, my god, she isn’t allowed to do anything. Why would she think her parents would let her do this without advanced permission seventy-two hours in advance?”

“Hey! Stop ranting at me! It’s not my fault! I told her I was going to go out anyway and she gave out to me and now we’re mad at each other, okay?” 

“She’s miserable so she needs you to be miserable too?”

“Yeah, apparently.”

I scoff, “that makes no sense.”

“Yeah well a lot of things don’t make sense in Michelle’s world.”

I sigh and turn to face the sea. The sun has only begun to set and toss colour over the clouds. It’s a nice evening, the kind that makes you guilty about staying in, and so my annoyance at Jen morphs quickly into annoyance on her behalf. “Can’t you just come anyway?”

“No, I’m too upset now.”

“Jen…”

“You should go. I already told Evan you were going to meet him there, and you could probably use the fresh air and conversation… I can’t bear to think about you stuck in your room drawing your own fucking toes on an evening like this.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll still go.”

“Good, I’ll talk to you later, and you can tell me all about what happened.”

“I’ll come over, yeah?” 

“If it’s not too late.”

“Bye, Jen.” 

“Yep.”

Speaking of Evan, I spot him up ahead, dashing over the grassy bank towards the path with his dirty old school bag bobbing on his back. I call out to him but he doesn’t hear me, so stuffing my phone back into my pocket I begin an easy jog toward him.

“Evan,” I do a half jump onto his shoulders and he almost dies with fright, his knees practically going from under him, and twists around combatively to realise it’s only me. 

“Fuck,” he wheezes, “Fuck sake!” He yanks his earbuds out, pulsing with the tinny beats of some pop punk song , “You fucking scared me!” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I need to stop doing that, it’s just a habit.”

“Yeah, God.” He combs fingers through his floppy fringe and sets it in place in a gesture, habitual and a bit compulsive, that he repeats constantly.

I fall into step with him once he has gathered himself and I smirk, “Why are you so jumpy, Evan?”

“I dunno.”

“What do you think I’m going to do to you?” 

“Nothing, I just… This is how I am. I don’t like it when people sneak up on me, it makes me nervous.”

“C’mon, it’s either that you’re afraid of getting beaten up or you’re afraid of getting caught doing something you shouldn’t, that’s what I think.”

“Wow, aren’t you full of theories?”

I laugh, “And related to all this, what’s in your locker, Evan? What are you always guarding it for?”

The corner of his mouth ticks up as he glances at me, “My locker? Do you really want to know?”

It's not like I care that much, because honestly, how exciting can it really be? It's the locker of a seventeen year old boy, so it probably contains a mouldy lunchbox and the crumpled remains of last month's chemistry assignment, but Evan seems pleased that I've asked him about it. I feign interest for his sake.

“Well, yeah, of course I do.”

He swings his bag off his back and fumbles through the front pocket. It’s got a huge ink stain on it and the zip has broken, so it’s just hanging wide open, “I’m showing you because I know you probably won’t tell anyone, you know, seeing as you don’t really have friends anymore.”

“Harsh,” I say, but not untrue. Even since the cowards from rugby took Fitzy’s side in our tussle over Alison’s nudes my lunchtime calendar has looked a lot emptier than it used to. Where there used to be banter at the picnic benches there is now... decidedly nothing at all, save, maybe, for a few unimpressed glances my way, an accidental or not-so-accidental shove against my shoulder in the hallway. Maybe my absorption in art is related to this somehow, but I haven’t been in the headspace to psychoanalyse myself that much lately. My mind is so full of values, tone, shape, and line quality that it has (blissfully) no room for other, less interesting things...

But, as it appears, this is interesting.

Evan pulls out a bag of pills, about twenty, all blue with little batman symbols on them, then digs his hand back in for another, this time filled with green buds.

I look at him and say simply, “You’re a drug dealer.”

“Yeah, man.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yeah, I've been at it a while now, I think I have a pretty good business going with it and all... So if you’re ever looking for something, you know…”

“You sell to Alison.”

“Uh huh,” He stuffs the baggies back into the front pocket after a rather over the top glance around him, like he thinks this empty street is suddenly going to burst to life with guards and sirens coming to hunt him down, throw him in handcuffs with a boot against the back of his neck and toss him in Mountjoy prison, like there are no criminals wanted more in Dublin city than Evan Henley and his fifty bag of weed. “She comes to me from time to time, not lately though.”

“Yeah,” I cough out a laugh, “I took your molly a few months ago. It was shit.”

He shrugs, “I get what I can get, not my fault.”

“Hm.”

“You could go to someone else, you know, but there actually isn't anyone else in our school, is there? I have a monopoly.”

“Fair.”

“You won’t like, tell Michelle or anything though, will you?”

I stare at him incredulously, “Michelle doesn’t know?”

“No, she hates all this stuff, like, she’s really strict about all drugs and shit and I just know she'll blow up at me and start shouting and roaring if she knew about it. I’d just rather not deal with it.”

I pause to consider this. It probably isn’t any real harm keeping this from her, is it? It’s not like she needs to know, and realistically if she did she would only freak out and and tell Jen, and then if Jen knew that someone close to her was in possession of any of this stuff she might-

“Yeah, no worries, I won’t tell her.”

He pats my shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie, so I guess we're real buddies now, “Ah, thanks Jude. Had a feeling I could trust you with this stuff.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[dreemurr-skelememer]

Hi, uh, have a fanfic I guess? I dunno where this came from but here-

It’s not the best but midnight writing is hit or miss lol

(Heavily debated whether to post this on or off anon, anxiety ruled out-)

alsoloveyourartokbye

~~~

“-and it was just so… dreamy! I don’t know how he moves like that!”

Dream had been gushing about his latest crush for the past half hour, his aura pulsing like a solar flare with his giddiness.

Blue and Hearts were listening avidly, cooing and awwing at the way the positive guardian was practically swooning.

Ink had tuned out a while ago, drawing lightly in his sketchbook to the comforting background noise of his friends.

“…Ink?” The artist looked up with a questioning hum, seeing three pairs of eyelights trained on them.

“What’s up?” They asked with a confused smile.

Dream chuckled. “I asked if you’ve ever been in love before.”

Ink froze.

Had they ever…

Been in…

A ringing sound began to overtake everything else as they stared into nothingness.

He barely registered the concerned voices of his friends as the ringing grew louder and his vision grew fuzzier.

Flashes and whispers flew through his mind; a gentle voice, a soft blue jacket, yellow, red, a bright light, dust…

He felt lost.

~~~

“…nk…in…Ink!” He jolted with a quiet gasp, hearing and vision returning in an instant as someone called his name.

A gentle breeze brushed across their face, the sweet scent of flowers accompanied by the singing of distant birdsong echoed on the wind.

He was sitting on a large hill, cushioned by soft grass and surrounded by wildflowers humming with little insects. The sun shone bright in a blue sky, fluffy clouds dotted here and there across the expanse. The shade of a large tree blocked most of the beaming light, keeping him cool and comfortable.

The view was calming; the grassy hill sloped downward into a field that turned into sprawling forest that went on for seemingly forever. The tops of the trees swayed in the wind, and he could see how the leaves flashed as they moved.

“Ink? Are you alright?” The question had him turning his head to face the speaker.

For some reason, he felt like crying.

Gin was giving them a gentle smile, concern poorly hidden in his gaze as he tilted his head slightly.

“You zoned out there for a moment, inkblot. Did I bring up a bad topic?”

Ink blinked, staring into the face of his friend as he fumbled for words.

“Uhm, what… were we talking about?” They asked hesitantly.

Gin chuckled.

“I asked if you’d ever been in love before.”

The patient smile on the other skeletons face made something clench in his ribs.

“I… no, I haven’t. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.” They looked away. “Being soulless and all. My love would be a lie.”

Gin huffed in laughter, and Ink raised a browbone at him.

“What?”

Gin merely shook his head.

“Nothing, it’s just, you seem to love so much.” He turned his body to face Ink, and the expression on his face made their cheekbones heat up.

“H-how do you mean?” They brought their scarf up to cover their lower face.

It didn’t help when Gin awwed at their rare display of bashfulness.

“It’s not always obvious, but you love in lots of little ways. Like how you put so much detail and effort into drawings of your friends and family, how you always bring me and Kin souvenirs you think we’d like from your travels, how you attend to the AUs and keep them safe and protected, the way you talk about the people you care for… you do love, Ink. I’ve known you long enough to tell.”

With every reason Gin listed, Ink felt his face grow hotter and hotter and before long, he figured it would be rather easy to cook an egg on his burning skull.

They heard Gin laughing again and pulled their scarf up to cover their entire head, his words making something churn warm and bright deep in their empty ribcage.

Arms wrapped around them to pull them into a comforting hold, and after a few moments they returned the gesture, burying their face instead into Gin’s shoulder with a wheeze.

“… you’re gonna kill me one day.” Their voice was muffled by fabric. They felt Gin shake with mirth, and a hand came up to gently rub the back of their skull. They melted into the touch.

“That would make me sad. But getting to see you flustered is a treat.” Ink groaned at the teasing, tapping a gentle fist against the other skeletons back in a wordless protest, much to Gin’s amusement.

They sat together for a while, listening to the birds sing, feeling the cool grass brush against their legs, enjoying the shade of the tree they rested under.

Feeling in control again, Ink drew back from the hug and met Gin’s gaze.

His eyes held only softness, and Ink felt both comforted and shy looking into his sockets.

“So, Ink. Have you ever been in love?”

Ink so badly wanted to draw the expression on his friends face, to preserve this moment for all of time.

That pretty grey-blue blush light on pale cheekbones, highlighting the cracks around his socket.

The gentleness in his soft lights, the love and care they held for Ink and Ink alone in this precious sliver of time.

Warmth curled in his chest as the artist felt his breath catch, his own blush reignited.

“… I think I have.”

~~~

Ink gasped as he was suddenly doused in freezing water, snapping out of the memory in an instant as he was abruptly returned to reality.

He sputtered out a “what the hell?!” as his friends crowded around him, shouting their worry and relief.

“Ink! Oh stars, you’re back! I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I had no idea-“

Dream was in tears, bright yellow magic falling from his sockets as he apologized profusely.

Blue had a hand on their shoulder, glancing all over their face with concern in his baby blue lights.

“Are you alright, Ink? You were not responding to us at all, you just sat there staring for almost an hour!”

Hearts sat down beside them, a towel and a change of clothes in hand along with a steaming mug of what smelled like chamomile-lavender tea.

Their head felt fuzzy and clouded, and they brought a hand up to rub at their nasal bone when pain throbbed behind their sockets.

“What… what happened?” They groaned.

“I’m not sure, hon. You looked so lost and out of it. We couldn’t get you to respond to anything. The water was a last resort.” Hearts explained.

“Oh… sorry for scaring you. I don’t know why I...” They rubbed at their skull again as it pulsed.

“Does your head hurt?” Ink nodded at Dream’s question, and soon felt two hands on the sides of his head. Warmth bloomed where they made contact, and Ink sighed as the pain slowly vanished.

“Thank you.” They looked up to meet the guardians eyes.

“Here,” Hearts handed them the clothes and towel, “go dry off and get changed, then come back for the tea. If you want to we can talk afterwards.” Ink nodded again, feeling a shiver run through their body as they were reminded of the cold dampness of their clothes.

He stood up, shakily, and made his way down the hall to the bathroom, ignoring the worried whispers of his friends behind him.

~~~

Ink stared into the bathroom mirror, taking in their haggard expression with slight distain. They felt so weary and tired, even though it was still fairly early in the evening.

He sighed quietly, rubbing at his sockets before turning away from his reflection and throwing his soaked clothes into the hamper.

Making their way out of the bathroom, they jolted upon seeing something out of the corner of their eye, whipping around to stare at their startled reflection in the mirror.

After a few seconds he shook his head and left the room, figuring it was just a trick of the light aided by his exhausted mind.

It was a nice thought, though, that Gin was still watching out for him.

~~~

Surrounded by the soft breathing of his friends, (and snoring from Dream), Ink, despite his weariness, found that sleep was evading him.

He was still stuck on what had happened earlier, when he’d awoken to icy water being dumped over him to snap him out of… whatever state he’d been in.

There was a large blank spot in their memory. Dream had asked a question, and then what felt like seconds later, they were doused in cold water.

The question… what was the question?

‘Have you ever been in love?’

Oh.

Right.

They remember now.

Their answer was swallowed up by the darkness of the living room.

“… I think I have.”

ANON DO YOU GET SICK KICKS FROM RUINING MY NIGHT LIKE THIS ?? ? ??s f???!?!?!?!?!????

THIS IS SOOO....SO SO SOooooo BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN. I FELT THIS IN MY VERY BONES AND CRUSHED THEM WITH THE WEIGHT OF THE WORDS.

the gentle scenery, the two settings, the comforting feeling while i read.......oh anon.....................how could you do this to Me

you did it......youve fully captured them in my eyes.............you did it.......................

[dzamie-oc]

Cynder's Spyro Picnic

AO3 Link: Cynder's Spyro Picnic Furaffinity: Cynder's Spyro Picnic Fandom: Spyro the Dragon (Video Games), Legend of Spyro Rating: Explicit Relationships: Cynder/Spyro the Dragon Characters: Spyro the Dragon, Cynder (Spyro) Summary: Cynder and Spyro planned a picnic. Spyro ends up being the food.

cw: NSFW (or nsft for filters), vore, dubcon, femdom. If you are a minor, or any of these are upsetting to you, DO NOT READ THIS FIC.

Once again, MINORS DNI

Spyro woke up to the feeling of a comforting presence moving away from him, then the unmistakable sound of his girlfriend getting up. Though hesitant to wake up, himself, the purple dragon cracked open his eyes to get a look at Cynder’s stunning, sleek form. The dragoness grunted as she stretched like a cat, arching her back as though to show off her flexibility and curves. Her wings, too, extended as far as they could, then flapped a couple of times, blowing some air in Spyro’s face. He smiled, and as a yawn from Cynder set off one of his own, he pictured the view from behind the dark dragon.

And then, in spite of the rest of his body, one part in particular stood tall, ready for action. Cynder turned to look at him, smiling. “Well?” she asked, “you ready to join the waking world with me?”

Spyro grunted. “Can’t the serial savior of the Dragonlands sleep in on occasion? The temple won’t get much dirtier with just another hour...”

“He could,” Cynder conceded, “orrrr, he could remember that he has no chores today, leaving him and his mate ample time to have that picnic they planned.”

“No chores? That’s great!” the purple dragon said, grinning, “that means even more time to sleep! See you in a couple hours, Cyn!” With that, he closed his eyes and laid his head down, then made exaggerated snoring noises that almost covered up the sound of Cynder’s claws clicking against the floor with her approach.

Suddenly, a quick, sharp pain in his tail sent a jolt through his system. Spyro immediately shot to his feet, nearly tripping over himself and his wings in his panic. He swung his head around to look at his tail, where he spotted a smug-looking Cynder holding the tip in her mouth. “Looks like Malefor’s influence hasn’t entirely left, after all these years,” he said, tugging his tail free.

His mate dropped the tail and stepped up against him, ducking under his orange wing. Her body was always a bit cooler than his, which he attributed to his firebreath and her lack of it. Subconsciously, Spyro extended his wing over her, hugging her black scales against his purple. “Then maybe some cute, purple dragon should show me what’s so nice about being on the side of good!” She winked and slipped from his light grip, using the shadow of his own wing to keep it open. A deft swish of her tail hooked their empty picnic basket.

And then started their game. Cynder was easily first to the door, and flicked her tail to the side, wiggling her hips to give Spyro a tantalizing view of the pink slit hidden below. Spyro rose to the challenge, and as he stepped through the door, he affectionately nipped at her horns. A light jolt of electric breath sent a shock down her spine. Cynder gasped and let out a small “eep!” as she stiffened; that was just the reaction the purple dragon needed to know he’d struck home. He dashed through the door before she could get her revenge that easily, and a glance behind him showed his mate hot on his tail. Nonetheless, Spyro was first to the next door. With a smug smirk, he spun around and sat while he tugged the door open, hind legs splayed slightly to show off his member like she’d teased him. Cynder slowed to a trot as she approached, then gave him a quick peck on the muzzle. Wind magic flowed from her jaws, swirling around the male dragon and sending pleasant tingles all over... just enough to make him miss her taking off to the next set of doors.

Back and forth, the dragons raced through the halls, stopping only to flirt with each other; the other occupants, Spyro reasoned, must have either been away or knew to avoid the duo while they were in this mood. Eventually, Cynder burst onto a grassy area, with Spyro soon barreling after her. And although the black dragoness soon slowed, her mate was not so lucky. Spyro shouted a warning, and Cynder turned just in time for him to plow into her side, sending them tumbling through the field.

“Ugh…” Spyro groaned, shaking his head, “did someone get the number of that train?”

“You WERE the train,” Cynder replied, her voice muffled from her position partially under his body.

With some effort, Spyro got up and shook himself, then offered a paw to help Cynder up. “Because I’m an unstoppable powerhouse, right?”

For his help, Cynder gave him a quick lick on his snout. “Oh, I dunno, I think I can freeze you in your tracks easily enough,” she teased, twining her tail around his. Spyro felt himself blush hot as his mate sidled up next to him, her flank against his and her tail twisting further around his. To make matters worse, the dragoness draped her wing over his back and purred low in his ear, “my, it seems I forgot to put food in the basket. It’s just us here, all alone, with no food.”

Spyro wasn’t about to be outdone, however. He nuzzled her neck and gently lapped under her chin and cooed back, “we’re clever dragons. I’m sure we’ll find something to do to occupy ourselves.” With their tails still entwined, he raised his and took hers with it. By the sound of Cynder’s breath coming slower and heavier, and the familiar scent of her arousal reaching his nostrils, Spyro’s play had worked.

“A-and what do you suggest we do, my love?” Cynder tucked her chin down, pinning Spyro’s head between it and her neck; surrounded by her scales, the male dragon smiled and sighed.

“Good question.” He unwound his tail from hers, strutted ahead of her, and laid down on his side. With a confident smile, he shifted his hind legs to show off the pink shaft poking out from his scales. “Maybe take a look around and see if anything catches your interest?”

Cynder’s dark scales tinted ever so slightly red, and her tail whipped behind her. Spyro’s smile became a grin when he saw it stay slightly raised as she approached him. The dragoness set one paw against his chest... and then shoved him. The world spun as Spyro rolled once and landed flat on his back under the shade of a nearby tree. Cynder stalked closer, licking her muzzle; when he tried to get back up, her forepaw was there again to hold him down. A slight weight crept up on his legs and wings, with a gentle coolness to identify it as Cynder’s shadow magic. From experience, Spyro knew he could only break free with his own powers, but he also knew he wouldn’t want to.

“Ah… I love this view,” Cynder said, grinning down at him. Spyro’s heart raced in his chest, the purple dragon unable to stop a hot blush and a broad smile from creeping onto his face. “The purple dragon of prophecy, pinned under me. Forelegs bound nice and snug-” she gently batted at his paws; Spyro tried to take her paw in his, but all he could do was strain against the shadows. “...and, more importantly,” the dragoness continued, turning around, “his hindlegs open. Everything on view, to browse at MY leisure.” The male dragon shuddered as she spoke, eager for her to “browse.”

Still, Spyro managed to push his libido aside to crack a grin. “So this is the plan of the dark Cynder! You won’t get away with this; even if it looks like I’m pinned down, my friends will hear me call for them!” He licked his broad muzzle, and when Cynder ducked her head down to look at him, they shared the same, sly smile.

The black dragoness didn’t respond for a few seconds, and Spyro followed her gaze to stare at her shapely, scaly rear. Her thighs and tail swayed back and forth above his head, dark scales framing the ruby ones between them, themselves drawing his gaze to the wet sliver of pink flesh visible in a slit in her scales. A drop of Cynder’s arousal fell onto his muzzle, and with an idle flick of his tongue, he lapped it up. Too small to taste, but he knew that wouldn’t be a problem for long.

“And how will you call for them, Spyro, when you cannot speak?” This was all the warning he got from his mate before that alluring sight drew swiftly closer, filling his vision with her ruby-red belly scales, and he felt her scales against his lips. The soft, smooth sensation soon gave way to a squishy heat as Cynder shifted her weight and ground her pussy against him while her tail slid against his - recently dulled - horns. Spyro once more poked his tongue out, only this time, it was not a drop of her juices, but enough to coat his tongue and more. It was a familiar, mildly sour taste, at once both sticky and slimy in his mouth, and one which he had grown to love for what it meant.

As his tongue probed deeper, filling his ears with wet smacks and squishes, Cynder added a new sound to the mix, a shaking exhale, audible even though her tail and thighs surrounded Spyro’s head. And when he tilted his head down to get at her clit, swiftly finding the sensitive nub of flesh with his tongue, his mate’s very un-villainous squeak was music to his ears. He swirled around a few times while Cynder kept grinding on his nose, then went back to probing the depths of her pussy, while her warm, slimy juices trickled down his muzzle.

As Spyro continued to explore Cynder’s soft snatch with his probing tongue, he became vaguely aware of her pressing against his belly-scales. A moment later, he was suddenly made MUCH more aware of his mate when a soft, wet sensation wrapped around his hard shaft. The dragoness suckled on his draconic pride, making him moan into her slit; out of habit, Spyro tried to reach up and grab her ass to get even deeper into her. Naturally, however, her shadows held him fast, reducing his efforts to a mere wiggle.

With an audible, wet pop, the heat around his cock vanished, followed by a playful giggle from his mate, one which only grew when the needy male tried to buck his hips up to meet her, only to once again find his body bound by shadowy restraints. “Oh? You want more?” Cynder purred. Spyro grunted in affirmation and nodded his head, rubbing his snout against her drooling slit.

To either side of his head, Spyro saw her powerful, black thighs shift positions, just before the dragoness dropped her hips down hard on his face. He closed his eyes as that soft, hot embrace slid against - no, around - his snout. The heat of her netherlips stopped just before his eyes before retreating. Rather than pulling off of his muzzle, Cynder instead grinded her drooling snatch against him; Spyro could hear her moan even over the wet "slck... slck..." of her inner walls clenching around his snout.

Breathing through the corners of his mouth, Spyro got back to work, exploring his mate’s insides and twisting his head back and forth. Cynder gasped, and this time, she muffled her moan with Spyro’s cock, turning into a low, guttural groan. Her own tongue, warm and slick and oh-so-talented, swirled around the male dragon’s member. With his vision surrounded by scales of ruby and obsidian, his snout held in place by the tight grip of Cynder’s netherlips to dominate his smell and taste, and his ears filled with the repeated squishes of her well-lubricated pussy walls and her needy, desirous moans, Spyro could barely take the sensation of his lover’s maw and tongue wrapped possessively, hungrily, around his rock-hard member. Each time he felt himself tense for his orgasm, however, Cynder drew away, leaving him straining helplessly against her shadows, and his cock twitching, close but not quite to his limit.

After what felt like an eternity of carefully-controlled bliss, the weight against his face increased as Cynder sat back with a cry of ecstasy; Spyro leaned into her, shutting his eyes once again and feeling her soaking-wet pussy walls slip over his face. Her hot, soft snatch took the base of his horns before everything went tight. His lover clenched around him as though she would never let go, forever claiming him for her perpetual pleasure toy. A brief moment - a split second - was all the relief he got before the quick, repeated spasms of Cynder’s orgasm tugged, squeezed, and kneaded at his snout, and although he would’ve loved nothing more than to taste her at that moment, trying would have had him bite his tongue off when the dragoness forced his muzzle tightly shut.

Finally, the weight around his head and snout vanished, and Cynder’s heavy breaths became the loudest sound around him. Still covered in her juices, Spyro didn’t dare try to open his eyes, but could hear her footsteps in the grass nearby... and just like that, he remembered where the two of them were. Well hopefully, he thought, nobody else in the dragon temple had seen them. He tested his limbs again, hoping to wipe her arousal from his face and “repay” her for the intense facefucking; to no avail, however, the cool and light-but-strong grasp of solid shadows still held him fast.

“Oh! I made an absolute mess. Here, let me help with that...” Something soft, warm, and wet pressed against his face - doubtless Cynder’s tongue - but only managed to replace her pussy juices with her saliva. “How’s that, Spyro?”

Unable to tell if she was asking seriously, Spyro decided to answer seriously. “Probably better, but it’s hard to wipe off my eyes with my paws bound.” A moment later, he felt warmth creep into his scales. Or, rather, the slight chill of Cynder’s shadows left him. Immediately, Spyro wiped his eyes clear and blinked them open to stare up at the gorgeous visage of the most lovely dragoness he knew. He grinned at her. “Some picnic, huh? You got a nice mouthful of cock, and I ate my fill of pussy.”

Cynder dipped her muzzle, and the warm touch of her tongue glided up the side of his muzzle a couple of times. “Mm-hm. We should have these picnics more often. I rather like the available meat!” Then, she changed sides, her forked tongue lapping gently at his scaly lips.

Spyro laughed. “Oh, by all means, feel free to have as much of the available meat as you want! Especially with a tongue like that.”

“Believe me, Spyro, I thoroughly intend to.”

Cynder licked just under his chin, then a bit lower, and lower still, working her way, tiny lick by tiny lick, down his lower jaw and neck. Spyro’s heart beat faster in anticipation of the dragoness reaching her destination between his legs, still standing proud and waiting for the much-needed attention. So he raised his head, brow furrowed, when she suddenly stopped mid-chest. However, when she started going back up, inching her way back to the tip of his snout, he set his head back, groaned, and smiled, his paw covering his face.

“Oh, you tease. One of these days, you’re gonna skip this charade and just blow or fuck me, and I’m gonna be too surprised to cum.”

The dragoness’s tongue glided achingly slowly up the underside of his neck and chin, warm drool quickly cooling in the air as she left it. Spyro felt her paw against his chest, where he knew she could feel his heart race from her affections. “Well, you’re in luck, my love,” Cynder said in a low, husky voice, “because I really, REALLY want you inside me. Right now.”

As he stared down his muzzle at her, she playfully nipped at his snout and gently held it closed between her jaws. Spyro’s smile at the cute display soon faded and fell as she continued to watch him with an increasingly smug look on her face.

“Oh no,” was all the purple dragon could make out before Cynder opened her jaws again, wider this time, and treated Spyro to a clear view of the pink inside of her maw, before her head darted forward and swallowed his snout in one go.

He groped blindly at her head and neck, but her paws swept his forelegs back along his body, and another swallow introduced his whole head to the grip of her throat. It wasn’t as tight as her pussy was when she came, but almost as hot, and the pressure didn’t let up. A number of firm points pressed into his neck scales; Spyro’s hide was tough enough to resist her teeth unless she really wanted to hurt him, and, as she tugged his head up and forward to bring him into a sitting position, it was clear that she didn’t.

Nonetheless, the dragon struggled. Twisting left and right to free his forelegs, unfurling his wings, anything to brace against her hot, gentle jaws and stop - heck, even slow - her feast. To his relief, she released his limbs, but before Spyro could push her head back and away, the dragoness wrapped him in a tight hug. Chest to chest, the purple dragon felt her heartbeat and breath against his own, and her warm breath ran down his neck and back, punctuated by a soft, tender grunt. The intimate display relaxed Spyro slightly, just enough for Cynder to stretch her jaws wider still and fit them over his wing-wrists and chest. Inside her snug throat, Spyro’s own neck was similarly made to bend along with it; as the dragoness’s drooling jaws slid down over a purple-and-gold torso, Spyro’s muzzle dipped past her collar, the magical metal expanding to let her prey in.

“Nnf, Cynder, please, I was gonna hang out with Sparx and stuff!” Spyro protested. The constant squeezing made it difficult to open his mouth, let alone speak, but Spyro managed. His mate-turned-predator once again freed him from her scaly grip, but that was little comfort, with his scaly chest now only a large bulge in her usually-slender neck. Again, he tried to move his trapped limbs, but all he got for his troubles was another swallow. His snout squeezed through a tight ring of muscle and into a more open, and somehow hotter, chamber.

Just then, a familiar soft, wet feeling slithered down his underbelly, ahead of Cynder’s jaws. As his head slipped fully into her gut, his other “head” sent spikes of pleasure up his spine when the black dragoness’s tongue curled around his tip. Spyro let his legs and tail go limp as she tenderly swirled the warm, wet muscle around his shaft, and Cynder eagerly took the opportunity to lift him up and tip her head and body back, sticking Spyro’s scaly purple ass towards the sky.

Her tongue ran up and down his needy cock even as the hard length slid into her jaws proper, carefully protected from her teeth. Distracted by this strange variation on a blowjob, Spyro hardly noticed as, bit by bit, he slid deeper, his cock slipping from her tongue to her throat while he helpfully curled his neck and body around to conform to the shape of her gut. Each swallow squeezed his cock between his drool-slicked, scaly underbelly, and Cynder’s soft, wet, squishy throat. Some part of his mind registered the heat of her insides creeping over his legs and tail, or the sensation of her tongue wrapping leisurely around the yellow, cone-shaped tip of the last appendage before it, with the rest of his tail, was finally slurped inside, but Spyro was far more focused on trying to thrust against the throat above his curled-up form.

Finally, his pink tip slipped into Cynder’s stomach, granted a reprieve from the constant stimulation. Spyro pants, catching his breath as his hindlegs and tail tumble in with the rest of him. It’s a tight fit, but Cynder seemed to have no difficulty taking all of him. With some careful wiggling and creative limb placements, the male dragon manages to right himself as well as he can while curled tightly into a ball of scales. “Alright, very nice,” he grumbled, “now let me out. I had plans for later today!”

Her stomach squeezed a bit more firmly against his body. As the pressure moved around, Spyro realized Cynder was rubbing her swollen belly. “Mm, once I’m ready. You feel good in there. But... I’ll give you some kind of release, if you know what I mean.”

“Cynder, c’mon! I know we took awhile here, I’m sure Sparx is gonna be waiting for me!” Cynder’s paws rove over more parts of her gut, and after a few seconds, Spyro splays his hind legs apart as best he can, giving in. “...lower and to the right.”

Aided by her paws, Spyro found her hot, slimy stomach walls pressing against his dick, shifting slightly as she tried to stroke him off through her gut. He braced himself against her stomach, awkwardly squirming against their soft embrace. The two dragons soon worked themselves into a rhythm, Spyro panting in the already hot, humid air in Cynder’s gut as he grinded his twitching, sensitive cock against her insides, and Cynder kneading between his legs, through the layers of muscle, scale, and fat. Deep in her body’s embrace, surrounded by slimy flesh grinding back against him, tension built in Spyro’s body, driving him closer and closer to climax.

With a lustful groan, Spyro gave himself over to pleasure, thick, white cum spurting from his cock, only to immediately land on Cynder’s stomach walls, rubbing against the purple dragon’s scales - not that he could tell, with the dragoness’s heat and slick stomach juices all around him. Spyro breathed hard, recovering from the release, and affectionately rubbed his partner’s belly from within. “Thanks, Cyn...” A few seconds later, he pushed out again, firmer, and reiterated, “but seriously, I was gonna spend time with Sparx today. How long are you keeping me?”

“Oh, I’ll let you out for dinner. And if you really want to spend time with your dragonfly friend, I can always go get him for you.”

Spyro was silent for a few seconds as her words sunk in, then he groaned. “Please don’t. I like your stomach better as the sole occupant.” Cynder’s gut shook with laughter, before starting to slowly sway back and forth as she walked away to spend some alone time with her tasty partner.

[vannahfanfics]

The Simple Honor of Domesticity

Category: Family Fluff

Characters: Rukia Kuchiki, Ichigo Kurosaki

Requested By: @deliazeedork​ (Tumblr)

Rukia held the flat of her hand against her forehead as she gazed up at the brilliant azure sky stretching above Karakura Town. Her indigo-hued eyes beheld the bright landscape dotted with fluffy white clouds moseying along, occasionally masking the intense luminescence blooming from the burning white-yellow sun peaking at the atmosphere. The time had just reached the height of noon, and to celebrate, the life-giving star blasted all its heat down onto the welcoming earth. 

“The perfect time to dry the laundry!” Rukia chirped blissfully, dropping her arm so she could stoop down and scoop up the laundry basket resting by her feet. She scurried across the threshold of the front door and into the freshly-cut front yard, where the clothesline strung from the side of the house to the wooden fence outlining the small suburban property. Humming pleasantly, Rukia dropped the basket so she could begin plucking clothespins from the taut wire gently swaying on the afternoon breeze. One by one, she pinned them into her shirt so she would have easy access to them when she began stringing up the clothes. She paused when she heard the front door rattle, eyebrows knitting in confusion. Her expression then melted into soft affection as her five-year-old son, Kazui, carefully held the door open so his three-year-old brother Takeshi could waddle through the doorway. 

“Mama,” Takeshi boy purled as he spotted her with his round, warm brown eyes. Cooing, he gestured at her with grabby hands, while Kazui regarded Rukia with a serious expression so like his father that she almost had to do a double-take.

“Mom, I tried to keep him inside, but he just won’t,” the orange-haired boy complained. Takeshi squatted down so he could cautiously descend the stairs, going down backward by lowering his feet while grasping the ledge of the stair above. Rukia smiled warmly as her baby boy settled on the pathway and then hurriedly whipped around so he could begin running toward her. 

“Oh, it’s all right,” she sighed contently, crouching down to embrace her son with her slim arms as he plowed into her. Rukia chortled as he nearly threw her off-balance with his eager embrace, only managing to stay upright by pushing the balls of her feet into the dirt. “Takeshi, would you like to help Mama with the laundry?” The little boy peeled away from her to look curiously at the mound of fabrics piled into the plastic bin. 

“Okay!” he chirped in agreement. He toddled forward to plunge his chubby fists into the pile of cloth, digging in to drag out several articles of clothing at once. Rukia hastily lunged forward to keep the freshly-washed clothes and bedsheets from tumbling into the dirt, allowing Takeshi to cling to the bottoms of the fabric while she carried it over to the line. The boy screeched delightedly, apparently very amused at the way the damp material wiggled in the wind. Rukia regarded him affectionately before instructing him to hold the fabric still so she could secure it to the wire. Takeshi watched her with rapture as she plucked up two clothespins to clamp the bedsheet onto the clothesline. 

“Kazui!” Rukia called over her shoulder, holding the sheet at bay as it attempted to ripple into her person. The boy was sitting on the stoop, watching the two hang the clothes with a blank expression and fists pushed into his cheeks. He perked up as his mother addressed him, straightening and dropping his hands onto his knees. “Would you like to help?” 

Rukia smiled in amusement as his internal debate reflected clearly in his expression. After a few seconds, he called, “Okay,” and trotted over. Rukia watched him in endearment as he gently stopped his brother, who was growing frustrated at how the wet clothes were tangled together, and showed him how to pull apart the clothes properly. Kazui gifted Takeshi two socks; the boy squealed in excitement and stamped his feet in elation as if he had won first prize in a race. Giddily, he ran over to Rukia to hold them up proudly. 

“Thank you,” she praised as she kneeled. “Let Mama show you something fun!” She took one of the socks from him and slipped it over her hand, ignoring the way the water within cooled her skin. Grinning, she thrust the sock into his face and began flapping her hand like a mouth, making nonsensical noises. Screeching laughter and high-pitched cackles exploded from his small body as Rukia nuzzled the damp sock-puppet into the side of his face, squirming away at the odd sensation of the wet sock in his jet-black hair. Still giggling, he shoved his short, stubby arm into the sock (which was one of Ichigo’s and therefore covered nearly up to his shoulder). He waddled back to Kazui, who was watching with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. 

“Ha-ha! I got you!” Takeshi screamed and began mimicking Rukia, bouncing up and down as he paraded the puppet in Kazui’s face. Rukia held her free hand over her mouth as she laughed mirthfully, pleased by the flush of delight rosing his round cheeks. Kazui flinched away from the wet sock, snorting in laughter and batting at his brother’s hand. As his big brother took off to begin running in circles around the yard, Takeshi chased after him, chubby legs stamping through the grass as he tried his best to catch up. Rukia resumed hanging the clothes on the line as the two boys frolicked through the grassy space. A serene smile graced her face, and her cheeks shone with a rosy hue as she listened to their gleeful laughter and spotted their forms flitting through the gaps in the clothes. 

If you had asked her ten years ago, Rukia would have abhorred the proposition of settling down and resigning herself to domesticity. She was a Soul Reaper, for crying out loud- a fierce warrior, a fiery spirit who lived for rising through the ranks and hunting down the Hollows. Where was the honor of being a housewife? Now, however… As she paused to peek around the fluttering bedsheet and watch as Kazui allowed Takeshi to clamber on top of him and pinch his nose with the damp sock-puppet, Rukia couldn’t imagine her life as anything else. 

There was a simple honor within domesticity- the honor of watching young lives bud into maturity under her careful attention and care… Now, after all this time, she understood Hisana’s devotion to her adoptive elder brother and deep desire to have a family. Rukia already experienced more love than she ever thought possible, and yet it grew every day as she watched her boys slowly navigate their shared childhood. Her heart swelled, enjoying them tussling in the grass, with Kazui being gentle so as not to unduly hurt his sweet and energetic younger sibling. I’m so grateful…

“Rukia!” The woman turned to see her husband walking up the path, clutching a plastic bag from the convenience store down the road. A gentle smile brightened his angular face. Rukia dropped the piece of clothing that she had been clutching back into the basket so she could skip over and press a kiss onto his cheek. “What’s that for?” he laughed. 

“I missed you.” 

“I’ve only been gone ten minutes,” he reminded amusedly. Rukia puffed out her cheeks, displeased at his disregard for her affections, and lightly hand-chopped him on the crown of his head. 

“I missed you for those ten minutes, dummy!” she scolded, striking him several more times. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, so he only chuckled and reached up to grasp her hand. Her face flooded pink as he brought it to his lips so he could kiss her palm. 

“I missed you, too.” Rukia hurriedly turned away; even after years of marriage, she still hated for him to see her blush. Ichigo laughed at her cute embarrassment, pressing little butterfly kisses across her knuckles to fluster her further. Though the temperature of her face rose several increments with each passing second, Rukia could not bring herself to retract her hand. She was both grateful and disappointed when Takeshi and Kazui charged through the drying sheets, simultaneously screaming “Daaaaad!”

“Hey, hey!” Ichigo grunted as they slammed into his long legs, making him stumble back a bit. Rukia laughed at his crooked smile and the way he leaned over to bear-hug them each with one big arm. “You’ve been helping Mom with the laundry, I see. Good boys. I love it when you help out your mother,” he praised as he ruffled their hair, Kazui’s bright orange and Takeshi’s midnight black. After a second of nuzzling his children, Ichigo let them go, and they immediately ran back to the laundry to play around in the damp clothes. It was only a few articles, so Rukia was content to allow them to slip them on and dirty them up; she would have to rewash them eventually, after all. As she watched them affectionately, Ichigo sidled up to wind his arm around her hips. 

“Ya know,” he hummed, pressing his lips into her fluffy black hair, “sometimes it still surprises me that you adjusted to all this so easily.” 

“Huh?” she blinked, pulling her head away to look up at him in surprise, though she’d basically had the same line of thinking just a few minutes ago. He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“It’s just… I dunno… You’re such a firecracker, ya know?” Rukia huffed haughtily and crossed her arms. As soon as she looked at her two boys chasing each other around the yard, Kazui bogged down with one of Ichigo’s hoodies and Takeshi chasing him with one of Rukia’s cardigans wound around his neck like a cape, the tension melted from her body like snow. 

“What do I have to miss, Ichigo? I have everything I need right here.” Ichigo remained still beside her for a moment. He then huffed in amazement. She could feel him smiling as he pressed his face back into her hair to press a lingering kiss into her scalp. His big arms enveloped her smaller form, drawing her into his body to cover her in his gentle radiating warmth. 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

Together, they continued to watch their two bundles of joy play around the clothesline; together, they simply enjoyed the product of their union, the simple honor of domesticity. 

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[purplesurveys]

1102

survey by joybucket

What color are your eyes? They are dark brown. They’re actually really more of black because of how dark they are, but that sounds creepy so let’s just go with really really dark brown.

What's your favorite type of milk? I don’t take a lot of milk and am not familiar with most of them.

What's your passion? What a deep, introspective question three questions into this survey lmao. My interests are always changing so I don’t really give much thought into this. I don’t let myself be bound to just one thing.

What's your favorite color? I really like the way baby pink looks on everything.

Are you shy? Sure, but I’m trying to break out of that shell. Based from hundreds of past experiences, being shy is the easiest way to be forgettable and I’m tired of people never remembering my name or anything about me.

What is/was your favorite school subject? History. Anything about it I will surely enjoy.

Do you celebrate Christmas? Yes.

What's your favorite quote? I don’t keep track of quotes.

What is your natural hair color? It’s black.

Do you like it? There’s nothing to complain about. I’d love to have it dyed just to try out something new with my look, because it’s been black and untouched for 23 years; I guess it’s just a matter of when I’ll push through with it.

Are you happy with the way you look? I wish some aspects were different, like my hair to be less frizzy, my front teeth to be straight, my eyesight to be clearer, etc. But it’s also whatever; I don’t really focus on these things too much as I’ve never been the type of person to concentrate on my physical looks.

What would you change about your appearance if you could? ^ Well, those things I listed. Also, to have boobs?? Puberty never did anything for me in that department.

What would you change about your bedroom if you could? I’d move the bed up against the wall because that’s always been more my vibe. If I had the energy, I’d buy a storage container and place all Gab-related stuff in there so I can finally hide away those things (but not entirely throw them out). I would also fix my closet, all three sections of it. I’d also love to get a homey and soothing night lamp and be able to regularly buy scented candles to de-stress at the end of the day. In other news, my room has remained stale for so long and needs a revamp HAHAHA.

Are you rich or poor? I’d say we are in the middle, but our financial situation throughout Covid has been making me increasingly worry.

Are you double jointed? Nope.

What's the most physically painful thing you've ever experienced? The time I ripped my ear piercing, and my foot infection from snorkeling. Also getting my blood drawn, but that’s only because I’m a big baby when it comes to sharp things.

Do you like shots? See above.

Are you afraid of spiders? Our spiders are never too large or look menacing where I live, so not really. I’m aware of how big they can get in other places though so I totally understand the widespread hatred for spiders lol.

Have you ever had an allergic reaction to something? Not sure if it’s an allergy, but my legs quickly get irritated if they’re exposed in a grassy area for too long. My face also doesn’t seem to appreciate face masks, (the skincare kind), but I’m not sure if that’s an allergic reaction or if face masks are meant to do that.

Name a food that you like that's green. Green curry, or broccoli.

Do you like to read? Yes. More of non-fiction, though. I haven’t read a fiction book since I wasssss probably in middle school or early high school.

Do you know what your purpose in life is? No. I don’t stress out over stuff like this lol, I just make sure I’m happy where I am and at the same time, still feel fulfilled with the things I’m doing. 

Are you lonely? I can be, but I guess it’s just meant to happen sometimes.

What's something you are good at? Reading people. Sometimes to my benefit, sometimes otherwise.

What's a color that looks great on you? Olive green and maroon are my favorite shades.

What's something you would like to improve at? Being creative. My work requires a lot of it and I end up being a shitty teammate whenever we have to do brainstorming, because I literally just stay to the side, unable to think of anything.

Do you believe you have great potential? Yes.

What's one word to describe you? Right now? Tired.

Are you spiritual? Nope.

What's one thing that you get a lot of compliments on? My writing.

What's one hidden talent that you have? I dunno if it counts as a talent but I memorize a great deal of songs from Jay-Z and Kanye’s Watch the Throne album, which has always been a fun ‘talent’ to whip out and surprise friends with when we’re partying at a club/bar and a song from the album is suddenly played.

What are three girls' names that you really like? I love Olivia, Mia, and Harper. I’ve probably listed those names a thousand times on these surveys by now.

What are three boys' names that you really like? I like Liam, Mason, and Lucas.

What is the most beautiful scenery you have ever beheld?  The prettiest place I’ve been to was probably Palawan.

What is your favorite pizza topping? Just cheese is fine with me. If that doesn’t count, bell peppers come second. I can definitely live without the other usual toppings like pepperoni, beef, etc.

Name a food that you like that's red. I said green curry in the green foods question, and I’ll answer red curry here, haha.

Are you color blind? Nope.

Have you ever had a crush? Yes.

Can you type fast? I can and I do on a daily basis.

What's your favorite type of cereal? Erm, I’ve never tried them before but I’m drawn to cereals that are rather sweet lol, like Reese’s Puffs or Hershey’s Kisses cereal line. The thing is, they’re classified as one of the luxury imported brands over here so their prices are very unreasonable for a box of cereal, and I never get to have them as a result. Otherwise I don’t enjoy cereal too much.

What is one of your dreams? I would love to have a family.

What are your top three favorite colors? Baby pink, white, and mustard yellow.

What is your favorite book? I don’t have one.

What is your favorite amusement park ride? Ones that would provide enough thrill but won’t make me pass out, like the octopus.

What are three middle names you wouldn't mind having? Idk, I’m fine with my second name. I actually really like the name Isabelle and at one point I unsuccessfully tried to make it my main name, back when I still hated Robyn.

Are you flexible? Not really anymore. I used to be, kind of.

Do you consider yourself religious? Not at all. I haven’t been in around five years. I’ve been atheist since I was in the 4th grade, then I had this very sudden (but very brief) change of heart back in senior year when I started praying a lot. I went back to atheism as soon as I started university.

Are you bold? I can be, but it’s not one of my principal traits.

Are you spontaneous? It’s nice to be every once in a while, but I’m not always.

Do you have a significant other? No.

What's your pet peeve? Lateness.

How tall are you? Just a little over 5 feet, which does not classify me as tall at all.

What's your sexual orientation? Demi. I’ve also been increasingly self-identifying as asexual, so let’s go with that too.

Can you sing? Nope.

Can you dance? Nope, but I still do it when I’m alone.

Can you draw? No.

Do you play an instrument? I mean, just the recorder, but I don’t know if that counts.

What school subject do you hate the most? Chemistry. I struggled with it both in high school and in college. I hated physics and geometry too, but at least I got better at them as I got older. Chemistry is just far too complicated for me to appreciate.

What's your least favorite color? Most shades of yellow and neon green.

Do you eat healthy? I wouldn’t say I exclusively eat healthily, but I do keep a good balance in the food I consume. I enjoy my junk food as much as I like eating vegetables.

Do you think you look better with short or long hair? I’d say short.

What's a color that doesn't look good on you? White.

Are you passionate? Sure.

Are you doing the most you can with your life? Right now, with the world falling apart around me? I definitely try to. I have a great job, I spoil myself and try out new things for myself every now and then, I’ve pulled myself out from the rut I used to be in a few months ago, etc. I guess I can say I like where I am.

Are you proud of yourself for the way you are living? See above.

Do you love yourself? I've started taking a couple of steps down that path.

Do you have regrets? Sure.

Do you have wishes and dreams? Of course.

Do you have a huge secret you are keeping from the world? I suppose so.

Do you have neat handwriting? Yeah, I get quite a lot of compliments on my penmanship in general. I liked practicing my writing as soon as I learned how to properly hold a pencil, so I guess all those times served as good training.

Name a current favorite song. I dunno but Hayley is set to release a new album by tomorrow so a couple of songs from there will most definitely end up being a favorite.

List a song lyric that you like. “Can you live with what you know about yourself when you're all alone, behind closed doors?”

Are you happy? I think so. I’m definitely not as sad as I used to be.

Are you a generally optimistic person? I try to be, but I allow myself to be negative or realistic sometimes.

Have you ever had something horrible happen to you? Between deaths in the family, depression and other mental health issues, and personal life events that were less than nice, absolutely.

Have you ever been abused? Sure.

Have you ever been harassed and/or bullied? I was bullied as a kid because of my name, and as a result it was difficult to make friends for years. I’ve never been harassed though.

Do you love nature? Yes, I love being around nature when I get the chance.

Are you free-spirited? I wouldn’t consider myself that. I like being on the careful side when it comes to many things.

Are you carefree? Not really. 

Would you say you are an overcomer? Yup.

Are you a good friend? I hope I am.

Do you like animals? Love them, except insects.

Do you meditate? No. I actually tried yoga for the first time yesterday because that’s what my workout app had planned for me, but I quickly learned that I am way too impatient for it, lmao. The whole session was meant to be I think 30 minutes? but I quit by like the 14-minute mark and did another program. Idk, I guess it’s just not for me.

Do you pray? No.

What month were you born in? April.

What's your favorite season? We don’t have the usual four seasons but I’m gonna go ahead and say winter because it’s what appeals to me most.

What's one place you've been to that you want to visit again? I want to keep coming back to Sagada.

What's one place you want to go that you've never visited before? Thailand.

What's your favorite type of tree? I don’t have one.

Are you laid-back? I tend to be uptight most of the time, actually.

Are you hard on yourself? Yes.

How's your self-esteem? It’s been getting better, but sometimes I still can’t help but feel insecure.

What medical conditions do you/have you had? Scoliosis.

What are you allergic to? I have had itchy, irritable reactions to face masks and grass before, but not sure if they’re allergies.

Do you like to try new things? For sure, as long as it’s not a crime or if it involves my fears lmfao. Like I would be willing to skydive or dye my hair a strange color, but I’d never scheme a burglary or jump in a tub of cockroaches.

What's one word to describe your style? Chic.

What's one word to describe your bedroom? Plain. I definitely need to mix it up so that it can feel more like who I am.

What's one thing you like about yourself? I like that I’ve always been able to surpass difficulties and come out a better person from them, instead of letting them consume me.

What's one thing you dislike about yourself? I need to stop blaming myself for things out of my control.

Are you competitive? To a fault.

Are you faithful? Sure.

Can you cook? Hell no.

What's your favorite restaurant? Ramen Nagi.

[alstanfordart]

No One Really Dies In Derry

From The Bradley Gang chapter of Tales From Neibolt

The lightning pulses across the gray October sky as Arthur, decked out in his spectacles he seldom wore, leans under the hood of the broken down LaSalle. George and Al stand beside him, restless eyes switching between the car's innards and the moonless cloudy night sky, with the storm just beginning to gather momentum. George has a small flashlight raised just above Arthur's head, highlighting the smoking engine.

George's wife Kitty remains inside the vehicle, fingering her compact mirror, trying in vain to powder her nose in the less than adequate lighting.

Parked just behind the LaSalle was a Chevrolet, with Joe's arm hanging out the driver window, cigar smoke clouding from his thin lips, elbow rested along the door. His brother Cal sat in the passenger seat, leaning on his hand, looking thoroughly bored with the situation. In the backseat are Marie and Patrick, with Marie leaning against his thick brown coat.

"Think we can get it going again?" George queries as he nervously casts his gaze around them, his timorous visage briefly made visible in the crack of light that splits across the sky. Marie nuzzles closer to Patrick, tucking her head down as thunder rolls above them. Patrick pulls her closer, stroking her brown curls.

"The engine's blown..." Al offers, ducking down to inspect closer.

"Aye. Seen better days, I'm sure," Arthur slams the hood down and wipes his hands with a stained white handkerchief from his pants pocket. "This ain't goin' nowhere, lads."

"Shit," George straightens as he switches off the flashlight. "What we gonna do?"

"Dunno." comes Al's simple reply.

They were safe, far away from the Lafayette city limits. After dumping the body of the banker they'd kidnapped in a swamp after collecting the thirty thousand in ransom money, they were on Route 2 in direction to a town called Derry after a brief stop in Augusta. Arthur, however, had his sights set on Bangor. When the LaSalle broke down just short of them reaching the Derry welcome sign along the shadows of the trees on the outskirts of the town.

A hush falls over the group as Al saunters out onto the middle of the road, sniffling and kicking a pebble aside. That's when he sees, in the far off distance, a pair of headlights appearing almost out of nowhere. He rushes to the driver's side of the LaSalle and reaches for his Colt .38 revolver-small and discreet, so as to be presented at the first sign of trouble.

He stands and waits as George tosses the flashlight in through the back window of the LaSalle and stands alongside Al, arms folded, not nearly as alert as his big brother.

Inside the Chevrolet, Patrick rests his hand on his Luger laying on the seat beside Marie that he'd stolen off the body of a Lafayette officer.

Meanwhile, Joe and Cal also ready their weapons, with Joe craning his neck out the window to view the car drawing closer.

Arthur casually strolls to the passenger side, eyeing his own much larger Remington 22. Al preferred a sneak up and get them approach. Arthur preferred things more direct. If whoever this was coming up the road was going to give them trouble, they would be dealt with accordingly before they even knew what hit them.

The car, a Ford Roadster, quietly comes closer, eerily serene, the headlights taking on a more orange tint as it draws near. It comes to a stop alongside the Chevrolet, the silhouette of a driver, a man with hat, is barely visible.

As he shuts the engine off, he sits a moment, George tightens his grip on his revolver as Arthur keeps watch on his Remington. Then the man leans over to the passenger side, rolling down the window.

"You needing some help there?" a gravelly voice drifts out of the Ford, a hint of a lisp making the 's' sound more like 'shum.' Al snatches up the flashlight and strolls over, shining it in the man's face and is a little taken aback by what he sees.

Scars. Thin pale scars, ever so faint, threading up the man's creamy cheeks, beginning at the corners of his mouth and ending just under the rim of his Homburg hat.

"You needing some help?" the scarred man repeats. "I've fixed a car or two here and there. I could take a look-see."

"Yeah, yeah...sure." Al replies, studying the man's features, with his square jaw and intense round eyes.

This guy looks like he knows where some bodies are buried.

Al tenses as the driver side door pops open and the man emerges, revealing an incredibly tall frame in a sleek gray suit. Certainly taller than all of the men in their group.

In fact, he was a good foot taller than Al.

No matter. If this fellow pulled any funny business, they outnumbered him.

"Here," the man saunters over to the LaSalle, popping open the hood. He reaches his long arms in and begins tampering with the wires. Not long after there's a loud 'pop' sound and the engine roars back to life, taking a few minutes to struggle before running smoothly. Arthur gives a pleased nod of his head.

"Thanks mate!" He gives the man an enthusiastic pat on the back as Al looks relieved, exchanging glances with George.

"What's your name , my good sir?" George inquires.

"Robert. Robert Gray. Although folks 'round here call me Bob."

The man shuts the hood and returns to his car, before he removes his hat to give his scalp a quick scratch, revealing a shock of auburn.

"You folks needing a place to stay for the night? Something tells me you'd rather not be in a motel. Gotta place just a mile up the road. Nice and cozy," he gazes at Kitty and Marie. "The ladies can clean up. Sit by the fire, get warm. Maybe a hot meal."

Arthur looks at both George and Al, who in turn glance to Joe and Cal, with Patrick keeping his eyes on the strange man, sizing him up.

Something not right with that fella.

"I'm pretty knackered," Arthur whispers as he tilts closer to Al and George. "And if this chap thinks he's gonna pull something, we'll handle it. At any rate, we'd have a place to lay low. If he oversteps, we'll teach him a lesson."

"Looks like somebody already did." Al retorts before turning on his heel to face the man. "Alright. One night. We'll be outta your hair come morning."

"Great!" the man replies, grinning as he retreats back inside the Roadster. Patrick is watching the man from behind the foggy glass of the backseat window, brows knotting together as the man begins to drive ahead. Arthur, Al and George retreat back into the LaSalle and follow, with the Chevrolet right behind.

Patrick taps Joe on the shoulder. He grunts in response. "What's it now, Caudy?"

"That guy, he don't look right to me. Got a feelin' in my gut," Patrick says, keeping his dark eyes fixed ahead on the Roadster. "He's bad news, I can feel it."

"And if you're right, we'll put a bullet in his melon. No big deal. Guy seems kinda dopey to me anyhow," Joe says breezily as he chucks his cigar out the window. "Not really a threat. Doubt he's ever fired a gun in his life."

Patrick is not convinced. "You saw his face. He looks like a blind man tried to take a whack at him," he glances at Marie. "And I don't like how he was lookin' at her."

Joe chortles softly to himself. Doubt she'd mind it.

At this, point, both he and Cal had secret trysts with her behind Patrick's back. He suspected she'd also been fooling around with Arthur too. An assumption born out of her comment about his "sexy" Irish accent.

Funny, Patrick was suspicious of total strangers, but not the men he'd grown to call friends.

Maybe it's because he'd never had any before. His paranoia was off-putting but also what made him so kill crazy. Handsome to look at, but underneath was a volcano. Always ready to erupt at the slightest provocation.

Not tonight. Joe would see to that.

"Don't go pulling any of that shit. We don't wanna be drawing attention to ourselves here. Not in this hick place. You know these small towns. Everyone knows everyone. Just keep quiet. We don't need a repeat of Toledo."

Patrick had gone ballistic on a gas attendant he'd thought muttered some smart-ass comment under his breath. They'd sped out of there after Patrick splattered the man's brains along the smooth concrete with a single clean bullet to the temple.

Patrick sits back, roughly pulling Marie to him as Joe glances at the street sign; 29 Neibolt.

The Roadster parks in front of a large Victorian house. With the LaSalle and Chevrolet lining up right behind.

"Whoa," Cal mumbles as he peers around his brother to glimpse the place. "Seems this fella might have some serious dough."

"Looks like a dump to me." Joe replies, shutting off the engine and swinging open the door. He was not a man who was easily impressed and he'd robbed much more grander mansions than this in Danville.

"Kinda gammy looking." Arthur mutters to himself as he slides out the LaSalle.

Patrick steps out, followed by Marie, who looks dazzled, her hazel eyes wide and her ruby red lips breaking out in a smile. It was the style of house that had always struck her fancy.

"This place is gorgeous. Just look at that architecture! It's a palace!" she exclaims as she rushes ahead, making her way to the front porch, past sunflowers sprouting from the grassy front yard. Robert reaches down and plucks one, handing it to Marie.

"Sunflowers symbolize healing and good luck." he elucidates as she tucks it behind her ear. Patrick stands glaring as Joe touches his shoulder.

"Don't. It's harmless." he growls.

"Thank you. That's really very sweet, sir." Marie touches the flower.

"Sweets to the sweet, I say." Robert replies.

Patrick shakes Joe's hand off before he stalks towards the porch as everyone begins to pile into the home. As elegant inside as out, with a lovely red Victorian chaise lounge, matching camelback sofa and parlor chairs, each one sitting across from each other in front of the fireplace. The mantel boldly read 'Good Cheer, Good Friends.'

George smiles and playfully swats Robert's arm. "We're good friends now, eh, Bob?"

And friends help each other.

Too bad we don't have the means to clean this place out. The furniture would make a buck or two.

Robert merely smirks. A slow, deliberate smile as he looks at George. "Sure thing there. Why don't you all have a seat. I'll be right back."

"That's what my ex-wife said." Arthur quips as he collapses on a parlor chair, sprawling his legs out. It takes him a moment to notice; there's a fire now crackling inside. He stares at it, puzzlement blinking across his mien.

Huh, when did he do that? It wasn't going when we arrived and he didn't go near it...

No matter. Just enjoy it.

Kitty approaches the mantel, running her long shiny nails along little figurines of clowns, each made of delicate painted porcelain, juggling, balancing and one holding a bundle of red balloons.

"These are beautiful figurines." she says, tucking a tendril of sandy blonde behind her ear, bringing her blue irises closer to examine the fine details.

"Take one. Just throw it in your purse. Might as well." George blurts out. Kitty whirls around.

"We're his guests. He was kind enough to let us in here-"

"Come now, lass. Let's not pretend this bloke is an average citizen. You saw his face." Arthur offers, stretching his arms and folding his hands behind his skull, giving her an amused expression. "Looks to me like he may have been in a wee bit of trouble. He was probably acting the maggot and someone decided enough was enough. Could be a right eejit."

"Yeah," Al cradles his chin in his left fingers, massaging the dark stubble. "There's something...I gotta feeling he wouldn't rat us off. There's no way he wouldn't of recognized me, at least."

He's hiding something himself. Al could always sense them. His fellow ' bad seeds.' The people who ran in the gutters. The lowlifes. He could always pick them out.

The wanted posters were scattered across the midwest, plastered along buildings, hanging in post offices and police stations baring Al's face; wanted for bank robbery kidnapping and murder, with a reward of five-thousand dollars offered. He'd taken up with his old childhood friends the Conklin brothers Joe and Cal, who were small time, with but a few petty theft arrests between them. Patrick had killed a cop in Lafayette during their last raid and prior to that had just a few arrests for assault. He was a friend of Joe and Cal from their early gang days and they'd reconnected with him when Joe briefly did time for robbery, knocking off a small liquor store in Bloomington. He and Patrick had shared a cell.

As for Arthur Malloy, also known as 'Creeping Jesus' because he was nearsighted, he'd fled Ireland after killing a man he claimed insulted his dead sister who'd just passed away from tuberculosis. ("Kicked 'em square in the plums, then put a bullet in his brains, I did.")They'd met when Arthur was attempting to knock off the same liquor store as them and offered his LaSalle that he'd stolen as a getaway.

Patrick's girlfriend Marie Hauser had inadvertently joined the gang, initially trying to persuade him to leave, but soon became an active member. But her role was mostly cooking and washing linens, hence her much-despised nickname, "The washerwoman."

George's wife Kitty Donahue was another matter. She entered the gang enthusiastically and without hesitation, but Al has never so much as seen a gun in her hands. Not one for shooting, she'd say.

Patrick sits on the camelback, with Marie beside him, still happily fingering the sunflower. He glances up as Robert emerges, hat and coat discarded and hair combed back. He points towards the kitchen.

"This way," he says, gliding down the stairs. "Let's eat. Got some stew heating on the stove. Some wine on the table."

Arthur pauses as they all stand, the edges of his brows coming together in rumination.

When did he get that going?

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he continues on with the others, with Kitty quickly swiping one of the figurines from the mantel and tucking it into her purse. The one with the balloons.

They all settle around the large rectangular mahogany-carved table with Robert dumping a hefty spoonful of a rather unappetizing red slop into each bowl. Patrick suddenly rises.

"Where's your bathroom?" he queries curtly.

Robert points. "Third door on the right."

Patrick darkly glances at Marie, then Robert before exiting. The murmuring of the group's voices fade as he stomps up the stairs, making his displeasure with the situation known. Of course, his real intention was to inspect this place. Make sure no one was hiding anywhere. He makes his way along the house's arteries, looking in various rooms, until he hears a door loudly creak. This makes him halt, glancing over his shoulder

The door to a room across from him is ajar, the lights inside faint, but enough to showcase what's inside.

Clown dolls.

Patrick charily begins to edge towards it, his boots stepping lightly as he sneaks up. He knew that man was strange. Something off about him. This could be an ambush. Nobody is this gracious. Not in his life experience. Everyone is always wanting something from you.

"Ah-ha!" he shouts, throwing open the door all the way and leaping in. He stands a moment, surveying the area with the clown dolls of all shapes and sizes along the wooden floor. Framed along the walls; more clowns of the sad crying variety.

"Jesus..." Patrick strolls over to the windows-also baring clowns-the circus-themed stained glass were partly obscured by thin brown cloths layered thick with dust.

Heh,heh.

Patrick spins around.

Who was that?

He reaches inside his coat and grips his Luger. "Hey, who's there?"

It had sounded like a man's voice inside the room with him, but before he could comprehend where a possible attacker could be hiding in here, he sees that the heads of the creepy dolls are now all turned towards him. Watching.

Whoosh.

The cloths covering the windows plunge to the floor and Patrick flinches as he turns to face the sound.

Hee!

Patrick does another turn around to face the clowns. That one sounded like a child. Specifically a girl coming from somewhere within the clutter of the room.

In that moment, Patrick feels something he hadn't felt in ages, since he was a boy running from his father's belt; fear. A powerful, overwhelming sense that he needed to leave this room now. The instinct to protect himself had kicked in.

He dashes towards the door, coming to a skidding stop before it slams shut. His breathing heavy, his heart hammering against the cavity of his chest.

Back in the kitchen, Patrick storms in, returning to his seat, sweat pearled along his large forehead. Marie touches his trembling hand.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, fine," he breathes, wild pupils directly on Robert. "Got a thing for clowns there, Bob?"

Robert slowly chews, staring back, before loudly swallowing. "Yes, sir. You could say that...I see you found my collection. "

"And it's a lovely one. I saw your figurines." Kitty interjects.

"Pretty fuckin' weird to me. A grown man..." Patrick grumbles. "What you hidin' in here?"

Robert sniffles, nibbling on his food. "Nothing, I assure you, Mr. Caudy-"

"Oh bullshit! What are you hidin'! What's in that room you freak!?" Patrick shouts as he stands, with Marie trying to subdue him and Joe mouthing curse words, when Kitty shrieking at the top of her lungs shatters the tension.

All eyes are drawn to her as she stares gaping at her spoon. "It's a finger!" she screams, holding it out for George to take a look. Upon inspecting it, he chuckles.

"It's a carrot honey." he pushes the vegetable slathered in red sauce around on the spoon.

"I swear, for a moment it looked just like a finger! A child's finger." Kitty pants, her palm clasped to her chest.

Patrick sinks back down to his chair, not taking his eyes off Robert, who chuckles.

"No fingers. Just an old family recipe, you could say."

"And what of your family Mr. Gray? Do you have a wife? Kids?" Marie chirps, trying to calmly rub Patrick's forearm. Robert considers a moment.

"No wife. No kids."

"Had to think about it huh?" Patrick cuts in. Joe gives him a swift kick to the shin under the table. Patrick glowers.

Unfazed, Robert continues, "I live alone. Just myself. Seems I've been alone for an eternity." he chortles that last line, as he sips his wine.

"I'd die from the loneliness." Marie replies.

"Nah, no one really dies in Derry." Robert says, to which an awkward silence falls over the table.

After a few beats of quiet. "So, uh, swinging bachelor huh?" George grins. "I kind of envy you..."

At this, Kitty scowls, gently, playfully swatting his arm. Al then stands, pushing his chair out. "Well, we best be getting to bed. We got an early start tomorrow." he announces.

Robert shows them to their rooms, pulling blankets from the closets for makeshift beds on the floors of the bedrooms to accommodate all of them, with Arthur opting to sleep downstairs on the camelback. Patrick keeps Marie locked in his sights as Robert bids them goodnight, shutting off the lights.

The house falls dark, with no sound, not even the thunder could be heard. Just deathly cold silence. As each member of the Bradley gang dozes off.

Patrick, having fallen asleep with troubled thoughts, realizing the man knew his surname when he'd not offered it, is soon awakened by a pair of hands on him. Small hands, shaking him violently.

"The Hell?" he mutters, wiping the sleepiness from his eyes as he looks up. Nothing there. He sits up, glancing at a slumbering Marie as he is pulled, almost hypnotically, to that odd clown room again. Almost as if waiting for him, the door swings open. Hearing the beckoning of a little girl's voice, not very audible before, but crystal clear now.

"Molly..." he whispers as he sees a miniature coffin now on display between the stained glass windows, the clown dolls forming a pathway as he approaches.. The door quietly shuts behind him as the coffin lid creaks open. He glances down at his hands, seeing he is now smaller, childlike, around twelve. The age he was when Molly drowned.

In her coffin, her eyes are closed, her face sweet. Her skin a pale blue and her brown ringlets held by pink ribbons. Sniffling, Patrick leans in to kiss her cheek. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save you." he whimpers through stinging tears. As he hangs his head, Molly's eyes burst open and she draws in a sharp breath.

"Ah!" Patrick stumbles backwards as Molly bolts upwards scowling, mouth sneering in contempt.

"Sorry for what? Hitting me in the head with that rock and accidentally knocking me into the river or running off like a coward? You didn't even try to save me, you fucking wimp."

She steps out of the coffin and leaps to the ground as Patrick watches her features distort, growing more white, her lips redder. She spreads her arms out, grinning maniacally, her angelic voice now raspy and insidious.

"Beautiful fear." she grins as she runs at him, roaring as she displays quill-like teeth, growing taller, her brown locks turning orange, her frilly pink dress becoming a gray-white. The clown dolls hiss with laughter as Patrick is backed against the door, which suddenly opens and Marie is there, screaming as the Molly creature, now a lanky tall clown with a striped face, comes at them. Patrick, now an adult man again, staggers up, terror gripping every inch of his being as he slams the door, yanking Molly away.

In the next room, George, Al and Kitty are awakened by the screams, as Kitty flips on the bedside lamp, standing just before them is the banker, covered in blackened mud and slime, his jaw dangling as he reaches his dislocated right limb out towards them. A deep otherworldly moan emitting from his misshapen mouth.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" Kitty screams hysterically as George and Al reach for their guns, finding they are unable to fire.

"What the Hell! My gun is jammed up!" Al yells as they scramble for the door. Thankfully the banker zombie was nowhere near their escape route and they dash out, meeting Marie and Patrick, both holding each other. The lights above them flicker off and on, with a hideous high-pitched giggle echoing through the walls as Joe and Cal burst from their room, both looking pale.

As if they'd seen a ghost.

"That gas station worker Patrick iced? He's in our fucking room! Looking like he crawled straight outta his grave!" Cal yells.

Just then, they hear Arthur shouting. They all make their way downstairs, where Arthur is in the kitchen, his scrawny frame cowering against the wall, yelling as he points at a large boiling pot on the stove.

"I woke up and heard someone in the kitchen then I-I saw..." he stutters as he points a shaky finger at the pot. George steps over and gags at what he sees.

A head. Too disintegrated to tell the gender or age, boiling in blood. The sight and smell of rotting flesh sends George gagging and choking as he falls backwards, covering his mouth.

"Jesus fuck!"

"What is it?" Kitty demands.

"Never mind." George coughs.

Huddled together, they run towards the front door, The lights still flashing, the ugly laugh still reverberating. They all jump into their cars and by the grace of God, the LaSalle starts, engine blaring as they speed away. Some only barely clothed, with Marie wrapped in Patrick's coat that she often slept in to keep warm.

As dawn bleeds through the sky and the gang take refuge in a nearby farmhouse, the extra clothes and guns in the trunks of the cars coming in handy, The women take a calming trip to Freese's with Patrick in tow while the rest of the men went to Machen's Sporting Goods to order some more supplies. Lal, the owner, recognized Al immediately, despite the fake name he'd given; Richard D. Rader, and informed some of his buddies that he was expecting Al Bradley at two in the afternoon the day after tomorrow and just as the LaSalle and Chevrolet came into view on Main Street, the gang of Derry residents, armed to the teeth, opened fire.

As the shoot-out ensues, Biff Marlow, one of the gunmen, spies a scar-faced man in a gray suit with a sunflower tucked in the left breast pocket firing a Remington along with them. In fact, all the gunmen had spotted this complete stranger. They all figured he was an outsider wanting to join the party. Afterwards, as the bodies of the notorious Bradley Gang were on display in the bullet-ridden Chevrolet and LaSalle, Marlow watches as the man strolls away, whistling, one hand cradling the Remington on his shoulder, the other in his pocket.

Marlow could never be certain, and it bothered him for years after. Something he related to his drinking buddies while reminiscing about the killings. He could have sworn that, despite the bright sunlight, the stranger didn't cast any shadow.

No shadow at all.

[standfortheangels]

What song makes you feel better?what’s your favorite candle scent?what flower would you like to be given?say three nice things about yourself (three physical and three non-physical).what calms you down?what’s your ideal date?how are you?what’s your comfort food?do you still love stuffed animals?what’s something you do to de-stress?hugs or hand-holding?morning, afternoon or night?what reminds you of home (doesn’t have to mean house… just things that remind you of the feeling of home)? [for mun

What song makes you feel better?

Ooo, this really depends on a lot of stuff. But weirdly, one song I go to a lot is Tubthumping by Chumbawumba. The names really tell you the vibe of the song >w>' it's silly- too silly to really take much seriously when you're listening to it, so it gradually cheers me up that way. But it's mostly the chorus bit that does it.

"I get knocked down, but I get up again! You are never gonna keep me down!"

Repeated over and over again with pride and happiness like a football chant.

It's the kind of mood that's just infectious, it's a crowd celebrating something, enjoying where and who they are. Pair that with the message in those lines, and, I dunno. It just really helps me~

_

what’s your favorite candle scent?

Oh this one is tough. My sense of smell isn't that great, usually I can smell a candle if I pick it up and sniff it, but when it's lit I don't tend to smell anything. There are very few candles I can light and smell in the room. So I tend to just pick candles based on colour tbh x'D

One thing I do love though is oil diffusers. A few drops of violet essential oil in the water, it comes out as steam, makes the place smell really nice.

_

What flower would you like to be given?

Aww, that's a cute one~ I'd love to be given any flower really, but if I have to pick... I'd say a sunflower. I think it'd be really funny to have someone pull this giant flower from behind their back and hand it over. X')

_

Say three nice things about yourself (three physical and three non-physical).

That's six! You can't fool me there >w> buuuuut fine.

Physical: I like my eye colour, I've got a general hourglass shape that I like, and I'm told I have very comfortable shoulders to lean on? Haha

Non-physical: I'm fairly intelligent, have a lot of patience when I need it, and I'm pretty weird, which is often funny for other people x')

_

What calms you down?

If I'm anxious, I have a few apps on my phone I can use that usually help. 'What's Up' is a great one, it has different tools you can use like grounding exercises and retargeting your thoughts and stuff. I also have games on there like Zen Koi and Alto's Odyssey, which I find relaxing. They're not too complicated to manage but they do grab my attention and have chill music on them.

If I'm calming down from being angry.... Dogs. I find if a dog comes up to me for a hug or something, I have to relax my muscles more, I have to be gentle with them and reassure them that it's all okay, it's like a conscious effort I make for their sake. So it puts a stop to my stressing out long enough for me to just start enjoying the fact that I have a dog. ^^

_

What’s your ideal date?

Ooo good question...

At the minute I can't really date at all with my health being this bad, so I'd probably go for a casual date where we play a low-pressure game together at home. I'm talking battleship, tetris, any Super Mario game that has a multiplayer feature, Snipperclips, Jenga, Wii tennis, anything. Just us chilling, having a little bit of playful rivalry maybe, a few healthy snacks~ that would be awesome. Some of these games we could even play from two separate places with a video call going, which would mean I wouldn't have to push myself to host or leave the house or even force myself to shower in advance; I could even stay in bed and just prop myself up with some pillows if I really needed to, take a laptop and we could go play something online maybe.

In the future though (because I really hope I'll improve eventually and get some of my life back) I'd still love the more casual fun dates, but not stuck inside. I'd love to go minigolfing and be terrible at it so we can both laugh at my awful shots, and I'll do some hopeless ironic trash talk and then lose by a mile~

I'd like to have a dog we can walk together. We could go to a quiet beach, which will probably be cold and muddy because it's England but we'll let the dog loose and smile at how much fun they're having, maybe play fetch or something, and then at the end be so so grateful that we thought to put old towels over the back seats of the car for our very very happy, very very very wet dog~

It'd be fun to go to a theme park together, or walk around a garden centre and plan out a garden we'll probably never get around to. Or a zoo! That'd be a great date place, a zoo, or SeaWorld, both are good.

I'd like to go for ice cream and sit on some random grassy bank to eat it together. To go to an art gallery with a camera and most of my photos would just be of my date seeing something she likes~ maybe I could even take a sketchbook too, and I could draw her in the styles and/or poses of whichever pieces she wants me to, while she poses in ridiculous funny ways and makes me laugh so much that I have to stop and then we move to the next room.

I've been too ill for too long and had so much emotional crap in my life, I wouldn't choose the rigid restaurant dates with all the same rules and the pressure, or strive to try and be the most romantic couple or whatever else.

For me, what I'd value most is being able to get out of the house and enjoy the world, and having a date with a light-hearted atmosphere.

_

How are you?

Tired as always! X') but for real, today has actually been okay. The last few days have been really rough pain-wise, but it hasn't been quite as bad today, so hopefully it'll ease off back to normal from here~ I've also been pretty productive in the last two days so I'm very happy with myself rn ^^

_

What’s your comfort food?

I have a couple! Chocolate, of course, is a classic one (chocolate peanuts in particular are something I reach for for comfort). And also, a hot pasta-based meal like lasagna or, heck just pasta in a nice sauce will do. Those meals are more like the comfort of being warm and homely, the kind of thing I might love if I were really tired and feeling sorry for myself, while chocolate peanuts are the "I'm upset so I'm eating my feelings" food. X')

_

Do you still love stuffed animals?

Of course! I don't have tons all over my bed purely because it's inconvenient, but I do keep two huge ones- a dog and a shark- on top of my wardrobe, and my littlest childhood friend is always in my room somewhere~

His name is Scruffy, and right now he's sleeping in my crystal box (open) on top of all the empty velvet bags. ^^ I used to take him everywhere, cuddle him every night as a slept.. he usually smelled pretty gross because I never wanted to give him up to be washed, haha X) thankfully he doesn't have that problem now~

_

What’s something you do to de-stress?

This might sound lame but, jigsaw puzzles. It has to be real ones, at the table with some music in my headphones. If I can't do that for whatever reason, I go to the bathroom and run cold water over my wrists for a minute or two, over the veiny side. It's kind of a mini cleansing ritual. I sometimes combine that with some deep breaths and imagine the water is literally washing the stress out of me, and it really does help. It's something I can do quickly and easily, I can just do it while or after washing my hands or something and that's that~

_

Hugs or hand-holding?

Hmm... prolonged, I'm not a huge fan of either? Eventually if you're holding hands it's like, when do you let go? What if your hand gets warm and clammy, or sweaty? Same with like a cuddle. Once you're in it, how do you say "hey I'm kind of uncomfortable now, this physical contact has gone on too long"? You don't want to be rude, and it might be hard to explain, so you've probably got to blame on being too warm even if you're not, and then that's a lie, and.. it's just awkward.

A regular hug though, that's okay. It can last longer than usual and still not be a problem, because at least, you know, you won't be hugging for half an hour, at some point soon you'll let go. And it feels nice, you know? From someone I care about and trust anyway~ it's like a physical way of saying "I love you" and it's nice to have someone's arms holding you, to wrap yours around them and just hold them tight.. you both feel warm inside and secure and wanted. I wouldn't be keen on a hug from a stranger or an acquaintance, even a new-ish friend. But someone who's close to me? All the hugs. Give me the hugs, let me hug you back, many many hugs. X)

_

Morning, afternoon or night?

Night! Actually I love those really early mornings, you know when the air still has that kind of... Crispness to it. That is amazing. But I'm never awake for that anymore.

(^▽ ^;)ゞ

_

What reminds you of home?

Thunderstorms, loud planes overhead, chinook noises, soft hugs when I'm upset, mum's cooking, pictures of our old dog Harvey, little fluffy dogs running about.

Most of this is easy to figure out I'm sure, but I do want to talk about the first couple.

Until the age of 11 my family lived on a military air base, so there were always big planes taking off and landing, and I really do mean always. We learned the difference between some of them by sound. I could be sat at home and we'd hear one and know, that had to be a Herc landing (landing always sounded different to taking off), or a teacher would have to stop talking at school to let one go by, and everyone knew that one was a VC10. (VC10s are the LOUDEST thing I have ever heard to this day. I'd probably still recognise one now~)

We also saw and heard Chinooks a lot. Now for anyone who doesn't know, those are the weird helicopters that have two... Fan parts? I don't actually know what they're called. X') (I looked it up, they're called rotors!) They kinda look like the bit of a retro telephone that you'd pick up and hold to your face.

Now having two rotors means that they can carry a Lot of weight, but it also means they don't sound like normal helicopters do. The two rotors are timed out so that the blades from each side can go through the same middle space without hitting each other, Left blade then right blade then left then right then left, and you can kind of hear it happening. Instead of the kind of 'Wubbubbubbubbubbub' of normal helicopters, a chinook sounds more like 'Wokka wokka wokka wokka'.

Where I am now, we only hear some small jets once a week at most when they take practice flights, and sometimes a normal police or ambulance helicopter. It took me a long time to get used to the quiet of most places, and sometimes I miss all the overhead noise we had back then.

And we got so many thunderstorms! Every single summer, usually at night. Now that I think about it the pollution from all the aircraft might have been involved in this too. >w>" But I loved it. We'd all gather in mum's room and open the curtains wide to watch. My little sister was scared of thunder back then so it was better for her to have people around and to make it fun. I was always just excited! And I still get that way if I hear thunder now~

[literallyjustanerd]

Hurts to Try, Hurts to Stop (Nightangel)

Ay, whatup, it’s ya boy, an obsessed fan who writes angsty fanfiction to deal with her own emotional issues. At this point I think Kurt and Warren are officially my emotional support mutants. 

Genre: Romance, angst and daddy issues Word count: 1603 Pairing: Nightcrawler/Angel Rating: T+

The air in Warren’s room is stale, and his lungs fill with a thick, stifling mustiness when he inhales. Head swimming through last night’s beer, he is dragged unwilling from the comforting emptiness of sleep, thrust back into the dull, thudding roar of reality, groaning and reeling and squinting his eyes shut. He has little more than a moment to try and think before he feels something ungodly bubbling up from deep within him, and when he leans forward over the side of his bed, he manages to choke up a good deal of second-hand, second-rate booze. Still woozy, he is only dimly able to wonder how the waste bin that catches most of the putrid mixture got there. A clumsy hand fumbles for his nightstand, catching wood after a few attempts. Vague memories return, a leaky faucet drip-feeding him disordered, nonsensical fragments one or two at a time. The clink of shot glasses. A giddy laugh that fills him with dizzying contentment. A chord struck on an electric guitar. Lips against his, warm and graceless and desperate. Quickly finding the prospect of standing an insurmountable task, Warren allows himself to fall back onto the bed, his head sending him a fresh wave of agony as it hits the pillow, wings crushed uncomfortably at odd angles underneath him. More shards of memory circle him, enveloping him as he sinks back into the void.

When he next wakes, he finds the world a little easier to bear. The scents of citrus and chemicals fill his nostrils, eyes opening to see that the waste basket of the unspeakable has been removed, the carpet underneath damp and scrubbed vigorously, the majority of the stain scraped away. Presently, as he frowns down at the faint splotch, a glass of cool liquid finds its way into one hand, the other pried open by steady fingers and a pair of pills placed on his clammy palm. The same fingers then move slowly up to his face, sweeping stringy, sweaty blond curls to the side and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Drink. You need water.” He obeys without hesitation, downing half the glass before heaving his head up to meet his rescuer’s eye. Kurt is looking worse for wear himself, hair a mess, yellow eyes missing their usual gleam, still clothed in last night’s shirt and jeans. Warren catches the man’s hand as it retracts from his cheek, pressing his lips to the blue skin and smiling weakly. He still feels, to put it most simply, like absolute shit, but the sight of that tired face smiling back at him makes everything alright, if just for a moment before his throbbing head interrupts.

Hours pass in silence, slow and sluggish and sleepy. Kurt has found his place beside Warren, lying on his back, chest-to-chest with Warren. Idle fingers trace abstract shapes into the small of Warren’s back, while his tail curves up from beneath him, straightening the feathers of his wings one by one. It takes Kurt a moment to gather himself when Warren speaks, pulled out of his stagnant thoughts. “How did you… when I woke up,” he mumbles, unable to find the words to finish his question. Nonetheless, Kurt seems to get the message. “Knew you’d need to throw up sometime in the night,” Kurt answers simply. “Figured I should be ready for it. Save some awful cleanup.” “But you still had to—” “It was nothing. I couldn’t get all of it, but I think it’ll dry up okay.” He shifts his weight on the bed, groaning softly. “How are you feeling? Any better?” “I’ll be fine,” Warren dismisses. “Back to normal by tonight. You?” “Just tired more than anything. It was a late one.” Warren makes a noncommittal humming noise, letting his arms tighten around the man beneath him, comforted to find lean, supple muscle under his fingers.

“Shouldn’t’ve gone out,” he mutters, not to Kurt, nor to himself in particular. “Shouldn’t’ve dragged you with me. Shouldn’t’ve left the house at all…” “It’s alright,” Kurt soothes. “It wasn’t all bad. You weren’t feeling good last night, you just wanted a good time.” “I wanted a distraction,” comes Warren’s steadfast correction. “I wanted to forget.” A long pause, muscles instinctively tensing, holding Kurt even closer. “Wanted everything to go away.” “I know,” the voice below him whispers, chest rumbling with the words. Warren finds himself suspended in Kurt’s silence, leaning into his breath as it leaves his lungs. “I suppose I should have seen it, stopped you before it got too bad. I’m sorry I didn’t.” Warren shakes his head against the cloth of Kurt’s shirt. “Not your fault. You just thought we were going out for fun.” “…Some of it was fun, at least. We had some laughs.” “Yeah? Good. Glad my breakdown had an upside.” “I didn’t mean—” “I know. Came out harsher than I meant it. Sorry.”

*****

“Are you going to tell me what your dad said this time?” It’s dark outside now, crickets chirruping in the grassy fields outside the mansion. The air is fresher, feels better with the window open, a crisp evening breeze streaming in like light into a darkened room. The couple are working through a pizza, and Warren pauses mid-bite to contemplate Kurt’s question, finally nodding his head as he swallows. “Yeah, I guess. If you want to know.” “Of course I do. You know you feel better when you share.” He sighs heavily, reluctantly, but he can’t deny that Kurt is right. He hates it when Kurt is right, especially when it means having to spill his innermost thoughts and feelings like some corny after-school special. As much as he loves Kurt for helping him, for forcing him up and prying him out of bed and drawing blood from a stone by making Warren open up, it still doesn’t come as easy to him as he wished it would.

“The basic gist was the same as always,” he says, his tone almost bored but for the slightest hint of bitterness. “Nobody was ready to see a mutant Worthington, you should have just hid them forever and pretended to be a pretty little Homo Sapiens. And—” He freezes, lifting his eyes from his slice of pepperoni to meet Kurt’s gaze. “And there was some stuff about you.” “About me? But—” “Someone posted a photo of us online. Got back to him somehow.” “Oh…” The sound of Kurt’s voice, heavy with guilt and shame, fills Warren with a seething, white-hot rage. “Hey,” he says roughly. “Hey. Don’t you dare feel bad about this. He’s the only asshole here, okay? It’s all him. The homophobia, the mutophobia, all of it.” Kurt nods vaguely, stiffly, eyes glazed over. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way, feel responsible for the tumultuous and deeply unhealthy relationship Warren has with his family, but some small part of him always persists, whispers keenly to him that things might be easier for his Angel if he’d never come along to complicate matters even more than they already were. “Are you still working on trying to cut ties?” he asks, instead of dealing with his own roiling emotions. Warren senses the need to change the subject and obliges. “Yeah. It’s just… hard. Accepting that he’s never gonna be satisfied.” He sniffs derisively, eyes cloudy as he reaches for another slice from the box between them. Suddenly restless, he stands, shaking out his wings with a flutter like a peacock preening. In the back of Kurt’s mind echoes the same thought he has whenever he sees Warren’s wings in their full radiant, elegant beauty: how could anyone hate something so amazing? Warren’s feet move without a destination until he finds himself perching on the windowsill, drawing in a lungful of clean night air. “Part of you always hopes there’s something you can do to just… I dunno, ¬force him to change.” The formless colours in the distance out the window slowly shift to form a line of trees as his eyes adjust, then blur again just as quickly with an unexpected wave of tears. “I know he never will. It’s never going to make sense to him to just love me more than he fears what people think.”

A heaving breath shudders past his lips. He tries to piece together another sentence, but the knot in his throat has choked him off. Mercifully, Kurt’s voice rises to fill the cavernous silence. “I know how you feel,” he murmurs. “I know what that’s like. Wanting so desperately for everything to be like it should be. Wishing you could even be what they wanted. Even though you know what they want is wrong.” He speaks like a prayer, intoning each word carefully and deliberately. Warren sees the glint in his eye, knows just what the distinctive quirk in Kurt’s lips and catch in his throat means. “Mystique,” Warren breathes, not a question and not an accusation, but Kurt nods his confirmation all the same. “…Family sucks ass, huh?” And suddenly, there it is. The high, twinkling laugh that erases the hurt in Warren’s chest, fills him with warm, soft relief. Kurt’s eyes wrinkle when he shuts them, tears pushed from the corners of his eyes down his cheek. He sniffles, raises his head. His tail sweeps across the carpet and catches the side of Warren’s leg, snaking under the cuff of his sweatpants and gliding up and down the skin of his calf. The smile that graces his lips reaches all the way to his eyes, weak as it is. “Not the family you choose.”

[autumn-maple13]

Lost to Time - Chapter 18

Chapter 18: Expectations

Duscae was a region very different from Leide, that much was clear almost as soon as they passed through the blockade and into the region's damp air. There was thick foliage and grass off to either side of the road as the group rode down it, leaving Amara to wonder how a region of wetlands could co-exist beside the dustbowl they had just left so peacefully.

But then again, how could Noct's Armiger and her father's be co-existing so well within her, considering the reactions she kept having to her King's power?

'He does not know yet the extent of the power you have laid out before you, child.' another king's voice overshadowed her thoughts, making her head start to hurt.

'Who is 'he'?'

But no response came. Shaking her head, Amara refocused on the road, noticing a gas station up ahead. Realizing it would still be some distance to their destination, she flicked on her blinker to signal the guys of her intentions and listened to them pull up behind her at the pumps.

"Excellent idea Amara, we still have some ways to go yet," Ignis remarked, turning off the Regalia as the guys hopped out.

The duo set to fueling their respective vehicles as Noctis stepped away from the others, his phone buzzing in his pocket.

"Who could this be?" he asked himself more than anyone as he pulled the device out, answering it as Gladio and Prompto moved in to eavesdrop. He tried to wave them off. "Hello? Oh, Iris?"

Amara and Ignis both turned their attention to the raven-haired man now, staring holes into him as he listened to the girl talk.

"Yeah, will do." Almost as soon as he had put his phone away, the others were surrounding him.

"Was that Iris? Hmph. Can't even call her own brother." Gladio was clearly trying to sound annoyed, but his amusement was too obvious as Ignis leaned towards him.

"In all fairness, yours wasn't the obituary broadcast all over Lucis."

"What about me? She say anything about me?" Prompto's mind was clearly all over the place, judging by the unchecked emotion in his voice before excitement seemed to take over him, making Amara remember the sign they had just passed.

"Prompto, not right now."

"What?"

"We'll make a trip to the chocobo farm later."

"But chocobos!" he whined. "Lestallum's still ages away, c'mon – just a quick visit?"

Noctis shook his head. "First thing's first, Lestallum."

Though defeated, Prompto still put on a grin. "Fine! But next time we're checking out the chocobos, no questions asked!"

"Deal."

Amara shook her head at her friends' antics, looking out at the sky as it started to rain. "Oh, shit."

"Indeed." Ignis's agreement seemed to pull the other's attention to their friend's dilemma. "I'd say it may be best to wait it out, but I doubt it will do us any good."

"I don't mind getting wet-"

"But the risk of you hydroplaning is too high." Ignis interrupted.

"Fine, then let's head over to the Crow's Nest and get some lunch, and hope the rain eases up by the time we're done." The woman didn't want to argue with the guys, instead heading inside the gas station to ask the clerk if it was alright for her to leave the motorcycle up by the building where it wouldn't get wet. Ignis put the hood up on the Regalia as he moved it into a parking spot not far away, leaving Amara to move her bike before she and the guys made a dash for the diner next door. While the younger guys busied themselves with the pinball machine, Amara and Gladio slipped into seats at the bar, listening to Ignis talk with the guy working the counter before he came to claim the seat on the redhead's other side.

"He says there are a few havens near here, should we not make it very far before nightfall."

"I dunno Iggy, I think Amara might prefer the caravan again." Gladio's smirk made his point clear enough, earning him a hard kick to the shin from the woman. She watched with a smirk of her own as the brunette hopped up from his stool, nursing his now surely bruised leg with a grimace on his face.

Ignis chuckled beside them, turning his attention back to the menu. "I seem to recall that you are usually the one who ends up in that position Gladio. On Noct's couch, in the tent the other night, when else? Hm…"

"Ignis!" Amara's voice was pleading, but her face held a threat that only disappeared when the owner approached them.

"So, you ready to order?"

Noctis and Prompto were happy to rejoin them to order, though everyone ended up ordering the salmon meal, before returning to the game to wait for it to cook. Amara and the guys decided then to shift over to a booth to wait, with Amara and Ignis sipping on their ordered coffees on one side while Gladio tried to sit against the wall on the other, keeping his legs firmly in the corner as best he could.

"You know Iggy, I think you had her trapped more than I did the other night."

"Can we not talk about this now?!" the woman was started to turn red in the face. "For the love of the Six not in public like this at least! People'll think the wrong things hearing you say shit like that!"

"Oh please."

"Gladiolus Amicitia, in case you haven't noticed I'm a young woman clearly traveling with a group of guys. That alone is enough to start talk since I am obviously not related to any of you, but if you keep saying stuff like that it's only going to make it worse."

"Why do you even care what everyone else is saying?"

"Because it draws attention. The fact that I'm still in my uniform is bad enough, the fact that all of us are decked out in all black and traveling in a super unique car is bad enough – but all that pales in comparison to the way people scrutinize you when they think they've found a piece of juicy gossip, and believe me, having a slutty sounding rumor attached to an already stand out group just makes people look for them more." She felt like she was back in high school almost, burying her face in her gloved hands while she took in the fact that she just had to explain something like that to Gladiolus of all people: the man who's lap it fell into when a paparazzi got too close to Noctis. "How did you keep Noctis out of the tabloids so long if you don't even realize the basics of the gossip circle?"

"Ignis." Gladio shrugged as if it should have been as obvious as her own explanation. "Guys with cameras, yeah I keep them off his case, but the guys with the pens and papers? Not so easy to keep in line."

"For you." Ignis was the one smirking now, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't get a chance to say anything else though, with the guys rocketing over to join them the second the owner started plating their food. The older man laughed, bringing everyone their plates and drinks.

"Y'all enjoy!"

And they did, taking their time to eat as Amara kept an eye on the weather outside. It didn't seem like it was going to lighten up anytime soon, so once they were done, she turned her attention to the people who were still moving about in the rain.

"I really hope we can at least make it part way before tonight."

"Yeah, 'specially with Iris waiting on us." Gladio agreed, looking out the window himself before something caught his attention. "Hey, I think I know someone who can help us pass the time."

"Huh?"

The others were left to follow as Gladio forced his way out of the booth, heading outside into the rain. "That woman over there in the red hat, Sania."

"Someone you know?" Prompto was looking curiously at the woman who didn't seem to know they were even there.

"Spoke with her just the once, back at Hammerhead."

"Now that you mention it, you were chatting someone up." Noctis didn't seem too impressed.

"She's real knowledgeable about wildlife, could teach us a thing or two. Go on and introduce yourself."

And so Noct did as he was told, after a gentle shove in her direction, only to return a few moments later with a grimace. "She wants us to head over to the Slough and catch her some red frogs."

"Frogs?" Amara deadpanned, shrugging in confusion. "Really?"

"Yeah, 'the quicker the better'." The king rubbed his neck, pulling out the map to look at and pointing across the road a moment later. "Looks like it's just down there."

"Alright, let's get going then." The group wasted no time in getting across the road to the grassy slope that led down to the slough, though Amara was less than thrilled about the slick surface that she knew was a disaster waiting.

"Be careful not to fall guys. The garula won't bother us if we don't provoke them, but in this rain, there's no telling if a giant toad is hanging around. They will attack us with no warning if we don't see them first."

"Garula?"

"Giant toad?"

"Never mind, just watch your step."

Taking her warning to heart, the guys did pay a bit more attention to their footing, even soon spotting the garula she had mentioned. The beast herd paid them no mind, even as Amara led them straight through their grassy patch, leaving them to wonder momentarily if just what it might take to invoke the wrath of such gentle seeming creatures (and if they might be added to the menu if they could take one down). The woman had noticed something else up ahead though, as the water of the slough came into view, a water tower standing beside an overgrown shack of sorts.

"Hey guys, if this storm decides to pick up even more while we're out here, we can use that place for shelter until there's a break for us to leave."

"Sounds good." Noctis agreed, though he nearly slipped when she came to a sudden stop in front of him – surveying the area.

"The water is going to be too deep on this side for us to find frogs. We'll have to walk around it and see if we can find a better spot."

"Walk around that?" Prompto was clearly concerned by the size of the water hole.

"We might not have to go all the way around, but if Noct's already agreed to do this for Sania, we can't go back empty-handed." So, they kept walking, until they reached a marshy area that was off the side of the lake, with several large stones in and around it. "Hey, this should be a good place to look!"

"We might need to hold off some though." Ignis was looking off at something above them, moments before a familiar buzz filled her ear.

"Imperials?!" the group watched from the cover of the few trees of the area as the dropship came in close, descending to a few dozen feet above them before its hatch opened and allowed a small patrol of Niflheim Axmen to drop down. "How the fuck did they even find us in this weather?"

"I think we should figure it out later." Gladiolus had already summoned his sword before the dropship had begun to lift away, and the others followed suit. This time it was Noctis who made himself busy warping around after the MTs while the others covered him, leaving Amara thankful that the patrol was made of a weaker few of the Empire's mechanical soldiers. As they watched the wrecked 'corpses' disintegrate, Prompto soon pointed out another detail.

"Hey, the rain's stopped!"

Distracted from the fight of only moments prior, the group exchanged a few smiles but were quick to follow Amara when she started for the marshy area once more.

"Then let's go ahead and find these frogs so we can get back and leave!"

Now there was a sight – Noctis in his fatigues walking straight into the marsh with the Glaive on his heels while the rest of the guys watched in mock horror, fanning out along the more ground. Unfazed by the grassy muck that was threatening to steal their shoes, Noctis soon found a frog, Amara finding another not far away. Prompto let out a squeal when he found a rather slippery one after to dive back after it when it squirmed out of his too loose grasp. Ignis fared much better, finding one that all but leaped at him from its rocky perch. Gladio was the last to find one, but they soon saw him going after something moving through the taller grass near some of the large, mossy rocks they had entered the area by, holding up a rather large frog a few moments later with a grin on his face.

"Hey Amara, I'll buy you a coffee if you kiss it."

"Hey Gladdy, I won't pay any medical fees if you try to make me."

"Worth a shot."

"Let's just get these back to Sania before they escape us again." Ignis clearly wanted to get back to the station, though with the looks he was giving Amara and Noctis they figured easily he had more than one reason for the rush. The redhead laughed, realizing how filthy her boots (and pants) were before she motioned for everyone to get a move on once more.

Without the rain making the walk all the more treacherous, they found themselves back in the parking lot fairly soon and held their nabbed froggies carefully as they followed Noctis over to the woman who had sent them on the hunt. The woman's face lit up as she looked at the creatures, holding out a special container for them to be placed in.

"Look at all these lovelies! Thank you, now my research can spring along."

"Research?" Amara couldn't hide her curiosity, wondering just what the strange woman would want to research that involved frogs.

"From longer nights to earthquakes, there's been a lot of strange phenomena of late. The world's out of whack, and there's no end to the mysteries that want for solving."

"Mysteries like… frogs." Noctis was clearly trying to put the pieces together, standing there with his hands on hips and a look his school friends recognized from their chemistry class all that time ago.

"Yep. You see, red frogs only appeared recently. We don't know what gave rise to the mutation. But this tiny critter could the key to the world's mysteries in its webbed feet." Sania poked gently at the largest frog with a smile on her face. "Fascinating stuff, right? Maybe I'll be able to tell you more if we run into each other again."

Taking that for a cue, the group was quick to exchange goodbyes with her and hurry back to their vehicles. Amara took a moment to examine her own map while she waited for the guys to load up, meeting them at the lot's exit.

"Let's try to make Lestallum."

"We should be able to reach it just before dusk." Ignis nodded and pulled out onto the road behind her. It was a scenic drive as they left the station, driving through more lush grassland and under some of the region's famous stone arches until finally reaching the spreading forest. It was already getting darker in the sky, with the sun painting the horizon in brilliant reds – making the woman in front hit the gas. They soon reached a blockade gate that marked their entrance into the Cleigne region, a long, high road stretching out in front of them over the massive canyon below, curving off to the side somewhere ahead. It led them directly into a tunnel carved into the cliffside, and with the sky still growing steadily darker, Amara was happy to see city speed limit signs up ahead. They entered the city limits as darkness truly fell over them and found parking down below the main street as the lights began to turn on to keep the city illuminated.

"Hey, Noct, where are we supposed to meet Iris?" the Glaive called from chaining up her motorcycle next to the Regalia, retrieving her bag from the car's trunk as the others did the same.

"The Leville."

"You know how to get there?"

"Can't be that hard to figure out."

[cryptidhill]

IMRE

Synopsis

Life was simple for Arabella Imre, a young witch with the tendency to feed homeless creatures at night. Then it wasn’t.

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Keep reading for Chapter One

Chapter One

It was another chilly winter night that left the windows fogged from the inside out, frosty on one end but steamy on the other, and the heat that circulated throughout each room had made its rounds to that of Arabella, a thin girl of small stature who lay in her bed with a decorative looking book in her hands. Propped up on her elbow, her eyes danced along each line of words as her warm, fleshy hands caressed the smooth leather cover of the novel. A bedside lamp on the desk nearby provided a gentle, warm light that enveloped her and illuminated her pale beige bedroom walls. It was a peaceful feeling, almost euphoric, and it kind of reminded her of memories of staying warm by the fireplace downstairs as a young child. She could almost smell the sweet, grassy aroma of her aunt’s renowned herbal tea. Witches from all over their small forested community knew of Aunt Willow’s homemade beverages and potions. Imre’s Elixirs was practically a household name.

Their warm cottage rivaled the brisk, biting coldness of the winter season rearing its ugly head outside. Fresh, powdery white snow covered the frozen ground from the storm that had rolled in and out within an hour or two earlier that day, and though there was something beautifully romantic about the purple sky and silence it brought with it, Arabella always felt something eerily off about the winter storms.

The book she was reading was really starting to strike her fancy. She hadn’t expected to like it so much, seeing as it had been a gift from Aunt Willow after a trip down to Barnaby’s Books and Trinkets, but it was growing on her. It was a story about a young witch on a journey to find herself, and it was written in the language that most witches used when speaking to each other — a formal language often referred to as Scireic that had been developed by one of the first witches many eras ago. Though it wasn’t common for modern witches to interact with creatures outside of their covens, on the occasion that it did happen English was their next go-to. In spite of this, some older generations of witches knew little to no English and chose to keep to their covens with no interest of associating themselves with any foreign creatures. As a kid, Aunt Willow had taught Arabella to leave it be. She’d always been the daring type, to her aunt’s dismay, but if there was one thing she wasn’t ever going to test it was tradition.

Arabella’s dive into witchy fantasy was interrupted by a curt tap on her windowpane. The girl looked up from her book and over at her windowsill. No longer was the bright, blue moon glaring down at her exposed room and lighting up her wooden floor with fluorescent, natural light like it had been only moments earlier, as now there sat a lumpy looking shadow in its path of trajectory. Her porcelain skin that had been blue in the light of the vibrant moon was now only yellow in the light of her bedside lamp. She set down her book of reverie and swung her legs over the side of her bed. Getting to her feet, Arabella felt the cold wood under her toes and brought herself over to the windowsill. Pulling back the curtains of lavender lace, the girl breathed a sigh and twisted the lock to push open the pane of glass. “Come on,” she spoke softly, trying to ignore the icy nip of the winter wind.

As Arabella stepped aside to welcome her nighttime visitor, the figure crawled through his entrance as if he’d done it plenty of times before. He made himself at home on the girl’s bed as she pulled her window shut and drew the curtains. The creature breathed out a frozen cloud. “Whooph. S’rough out there tonight, Belli. You’ve got it pretty easy in here.”

“If you came to bring me another one of your rat heads, I don’t care whether it’s on a string or in a jar — I’m not taking it.”

“You kidding? I’d be lucky if I could find any rats out there tonight. Unfortunately even they’re smart enough to go back home and get warm. Sucks, man. A guy’s gotta eat.”

“Jarv, I don’t really know what you expect me to do,” Arabella huffed. “I can’t exactly sneak downstairs and bring a whole deer platter up for you to gorge on.”

“You have deer? Shoot Belli, there’s no way that’s fresh. How long have you had that for?” the Jarv boy asked.

“Dunno. Not that long. Don’t act like it’s that big of a deal. My aunt got it from the butchery in town. I’m sure you could go down there and get some.”

The boy just cocked a sideways grin. “You’re funny, Bel. Get a load of that one. ‘A vampire walks into a butcher shop...’”

Arabella was getting annoyed. “Jarvis, I’m trying to help you. I know you’re hungry but you can’t always come to me in the middle of the night and expect me to be able to feed you. How often do you come around here when I’m sleeping, anyway?”

Jarvis hesitated and glanced down at Arabella’s desk. “No idea. Hey, what’s this you’re reading?” He picked up the book and flipped open the cover, but before he could get a good look at any of it it flipped shut again in a hurry. Jarvis let out a startled yelp. “Ah! Your weird book just cut me!”

Arabella leaned up against her windowsill. “It’s a witch’s book. It’s not going to let you read it. It’s enchanted, mouse brain.”

Jarvis was sucking the blood from his hand where he’d been struck. “Yeah, well it didn’t need to cut me. Someone should throw that thing in the pond. It’s gotta be like fifty eras old, it’s doing nothing but collecting dust!”

“Oh, stop it. Keep your voice down. Do you want to be thrown out into the snow? Besides, I’m actually reading it, so it’s not collecting dust. It’s kinda good. You wouldn’t be able to understand a word it says anyway. It’s written in Scireic.”

“You mean that fake language I hear the the shopkeepers yelling in? Didn’t know you could fill up a book with that many curse words.”

“Cut it out, Jar. Look, forget the book. Did you only come here looking for food or was there something else you wanted?”

“I mean it was mostly for warmth and food because that snow storm was gnarly. Did you see that stuff coming down? It was heavy as bricks to fly in!”

“Why were you up so early?” Arabella questioned, one eyebrow raised.

“Huh? Oh. I’m an early riser.”

“No, you’re not.”

“As of tonight, I am.”

“Jarvis,” Arabella groaned in growing agitation, “as much as I love having you over when I should be asleep, you’re starting to waste my time. I know this is your afternoon, but this is my midday. You’re making me sleepier the longer you sit here and chat with me.”

“Yikes. You’re in a funk tonight, Bel. I get it, though. You want me gone. I get it. I’ll go.”

“It’s nothing personal, you know? It’s just super late for me. Like, a witch needs her beauty sleep. I’ll tell you what; come back tomorrow night and I’ll have some snacks waiting for you. I’ll go out and buy some meats just for you, okay? Then we can talk forest gossip and all that fun stuff.” Arabella was still sitting on the windowsill awaiting Jarvis’ response. The boy sat staring at her in contemplation.

“Belli,” the boy finally started in reply, “the moonlight really brings out that red hair of yours, you know?” He smiled a toothy grin. “I’ll be back tomorrow night. If I don’t see any rabbit’s feet, I’m gonna be pissed! Remember, keep ‘em as raw as possible!” He got up and eagerly bounced over to sit beside his friend. Jarvis sighed. “It’s getting harder out here for us ‘creatures’, ya know? These witch shops keep popping up faster and faster nowadays. Sooner or later we might not have much land to ourselves. Food is more scarce because of the storms, and the little that there is is being trapped and sold by the shopkeepers. Look, I get it, witches are trying to make a living and all, but us carnivores gotta eat too! Those fauns have it easy. Man. Anyways, I’ll get going. Rest up, Bel. We’re gorging ourselves tomorrow!” He turned and gave the girl a peck on the cheek before he turned halfway and pushed the window open. One minute he was next to Arabella, but the next he was taking a dive head first out the window. It unnerved her every time to watch him take such a risky move, but she knew he was used to it so she had no clue why she always worried so much. As she started to close her window pane and place the lock back where it was, she watched the bat whose fur was black in the moonlight fly off further and grow smaller against the sky.

Drawing her purple curtains, Arabella sat back on her bed and pulled her feet up onto her mattress. Considering her options, she decided it was just best to hit the sack now. The young witch reached over to her bedside table and fixed the book that her friend had tampered with. With a final glance at the blue moon outside of her window, Arabella flicked off her nighttime light and leaned back in her bed. Resting her head on her comfortable pillows, her eyes no longer fought the urge to close.

[lovelysweetdreamynfg]

Kinda a big progress dump. New stuff has been on and off recently cause I shifted my focus to getting a small update for the game out

Princess, Maiko, Maid and Cat all have full bright ver. sprites with Clown, Hone-onna, Gingerbread and Bunny only having the front sprite but it’s good to figure out how to colour the rest when I get to them

Some old happy town npcs for a new area but i dont think ive shared them on tumbles yet so here they are. The bright characters are my favourite to make, can you tell..? The new area’s gonna be a train station and a street

Japan npcs for a yokai street. I wanted some lsdde ones but i think the minotaur and tennyo are gonna be the only ones, the rest’ll be regular yokai. This area’s gonna be a grassy path with trees, a stream and bridge and hopefully a pretty background that shows the city to the north

Next are some misc npcs for a new area. It’s gonna use the same tileset from the halls before the final room(s). But I wanna make it its own area, a spooky one too. 

And last are things for Touma. I wanna have her house for after her event, with at least her room so the ending of the event isn’t so text heavy. Plus, it’s more of a chance to get to know her. I wanna do Amilia’s apartment too but I dunno where that’ll fit in just yet. The uncoloured npcs are her parents :) Can you tell I was in a drawing and not colouring mood when I was doing these XD

[juniperallura]

The day was hot, oppressive with summer humidity. The sun beat down on his mop of black hair, making it feel like his head was a mud brick being baked into scorched clay. Beads of sweat rolled down the back of his neck, the side of his face. His muscles ached from the weight of the full watering can, which swung in his hanging arms like an unbalanced pendulum. Warm water sloshed over his sneakers as he tipped the can toward the patch of dirt dotted with little mounds that reached up toward the summer rays.

“Careful, Takashi,” his mother cautioned, pushing up the edge of her wide-brimmed hat to watch him pour. “We don’t want the seeds to drown.”

“Sorry.” Shiro tightened his grip on the handle, brow knitting and tongue peeking out from his lips as he concentrated on sprinkling the garden evenly. Finally his mom nodded and he set the watering can heavily on the ground with a huff. He wiped his wet hands on the front of his shirt, already streaked with dirt like the knees of his pants. He gave his mom a wide-eyed look, silently asking what she knew had been on his mind since they had come out to that sunny corner of his aunt’s yard three hours ago.

She sat back on her ankles, surveying their work for a moment before she picked up her trowel and stood with a smile. “Yes, we can be done now.”

Shiro grinned, abandoning the watering can as he bounded ahead of her toward the house. He couldn’t reach the blessed shade quick enough. As soon as he burst into the entryway he kicked off his damp shoes and collapsed against the chilled tile floor. A great sigh of relief escaped him.

A minute later his mom appeared from the now blinding summer light, closing the front door and encasing them in cool darkness. 

“It’s so hot, Mom,” Shiro groaned from the floor. “We were out there for forever.”

She chuckled at him, fanning herself with her hat and sweeping the curtain of dark hair from her neck. “You’ll be happy we put so much care into the lavender when it grows big and beautiful- and your aunt will be happy when she can make her soaps,” she said, holding out a hand for him to grasp, “Besides, it’s honest work. Doesn’t the tired feel good?”

Shiro stood up, considering the ache in his arms with a frown. “I dunno. I guess.”

His mother just smiled, patting him on the shoulder. “Go shower before dinner, you’re filthy.”

“—Shiro, how’s the humidity level now? Is the heat okay?”

Shiro moved off his knees into a crouch, inadvertently wiping his dirty hands (gloves having been discarded in favor of the tactility of palms on soil) on his t-shirt. He blinked, looking around before he remembered that Pidge was up in the rafters, tinkering with the room’s atmospheric levels. “Feels great, Pidge! I’m sweating already,” he called up, shielding his eyes against the modified lights that shone almost as bright and hot as the summer sun.

“You’re telling me- I’m the one up here,” he heard her mumble.

“Thanks again!” Shiro chuckled as a distant reply wafted down before the catwalk door snapped shut. He sighed contently, looking down at the rows of sprouts that stretched happily toward the sky. Some kind of alien herb, what Hunk referred to as ‘space basil,’ was coming in well enough, but Shiro had a hunch that it would really take with a little extra sun.

His mother’s words rang in his ears, talking about the good kind of tired that came from honest work. It certainly had been work; his back ached from bending over with his trowel all afternoon, and sweat beaded on his forehead just like it had all those years ago in his aunt’s garden. But she was right- a warm sense of pride swelled in his chest. All around him, the turf floor, almost as soft as real grass, was spotted with alien plants poking out of their beds of imported soil. They were odd colors and shapes, but there was something so familiar about their orderly rows all stretching and reaching for life that struck a peaceful chord somewhere deep within him.

“-Hey, watch where you swing that thing!”

“It wasn’t even close to you, don’t be a baby-”

Shiro sighed, turning to where Keith and Lance were (supposed to be) hammering in fence posts around a newly planted soil bed. “Hey, hey, you know the rules,” he cautioned them with a smile, “No fighting near the tubers. It stresses them out.”

Both paladins opened their mouths to retort but just then the door slid open and in strolled Coran and Allura, bearing glasses of pink liquid dripping with condensation.

“How’s it going, boys?” Coran called, “What’s this I hear about anxious tubers?”

“Just the usual,” Shiro said, “Another peaceful day in the garden.”

The Alteans glanced over to Keith and Lance, who had resumed their bickering. “Well, I guess we came at the right time. A treat, from Hunk.” Allura snickered, holding out a glass for him. “How are our flowers doing?”

Shiro accepted the drink gratefully, dragging his arm across his forehead and taking a long, refreshing draw to ward against the heat of the room. “They’re great! The Cedarian pansies just bloomed the other day,” he nodded toward the center of the room, where a circular patch of soil blossomed with delicate pinks and yellows. It had been Allura’s idea to add flowers to their collection of herbs and produce; the mice helped her paint the short picket fence that surrounded the bed and came out to help both of them tuck the seeds into the soil. 

“Oh, wonderful!” Allura beamed, “I’m sure it will be just lovely when they all bloom.”

“Yes, you’ve got quite the production going, Shiro!” Coran clapped him on the shoulder, “In a few months we’ll have enough food growing in here for a feast!”

“-If I may, team, a word before we eat-” Allura tapped her knife gently against her glass, raising herself off the picnic blanket onto her knees as the murmurs of conversation faded. 

A soft breeze rolled off the lake that stretched out behind them, its rippling waters reflecting the towers of the Castle, sitting only a short distance from where the group had set up for dinner on the newly liberated planet. Allura looked appreciatively at their surroundings, then turned a warm smile to her comrades. “First, I suggest we raise a glass to ourselves for a job well done. Congratulations on another successful mission, Team Voltron-” 

A cheer of agreement rose from the group as everyone clinked their glasses, Lance adding that no, it was alright, he was a humble guy, the superstar of the mission didn’t need his own toast. Everyone rolled their eyes but no one could resist a smile. 

“Now, as always, we must thank our culinary mastermind for another delicious meal. Hunk, you’ve outdone yourself.” Another clatter of glasses as Hunk waved away her praise with a satisfied smile. “-And lastly, I do believe that we owe Shiro our thanks as well, for providing us with this lovely spread of fresh herbs and vegetables. He- what is your phrase? He is a green thumb!”

Shiro chuckled, shaking his head as the rest of the team raised their glasses and Pidge elbowed him in the side. “Please- thank you, but I can’t take all the credit. It was a team effort, like it should be.”

Everyone exchanged grins, seeming to share the same proud feeling. Hunk called out, “Let’s eat!” and Shiro leaned back as everyone starting digging into dinner, letting his eyes wander over the grassy hills that rolled into the distance. He sucked in a chestful of warm, fresh air, holding it for a moment before exhaling slowly. The grass beneath his hands was soft, the scent wafting from their picnic spread enticing, the laughter ringing among his friends sweet and light. A smile curled over his lips. He sat up and grabbed a plate, digging into the rewards of his honest work.

[kyanmaaaa]

aight heres another dream journal

putting under a read more because this is the most vivid dream ive had in yeaars and i like to go in depth

okay so, my family and i are visiting this cool city type area with my grandparents, its a neat place thats hella popping with people, all the tech is a little outdated so its in need of a rehaul but its kinda cool, on the way to a store i have a stranger talk to me abt shoplifting and i watch someone else get chased down and tackled by a group of men in all black

the entire street of people changes path to avoid that, so we my family and i are at this department store now, its also pretty important to mention i can kind of see faces and hear the actual peoples voices in this dream, rare for one person maybe tops but i think even the strangers had faces in this dream, we dont stay in the department store long and leave to get checked in to the place we’re renting

place seems kinda nice! nice good size, little quieter area, but the whole place is overgrown with plants, and i dont mean like vines growing over the building i mean like theres a literal fucking tree sprouted out of end side and growing into the area above the street, now that i think about it there werent any powerlines. bricks of the buidling where just filled in with well developed flora and the like,

top floor of the building is where we stay but we check out the basement area to the place, i think a friend of my moms or maybe my aunt joins us here? the basement is.... not as in as good of shape as the upstairs

which isnt surprising because the only way into the basement was a set of stares and a ladder right next to the building, the stairs were covered in various plant grime like from when u go to a park thats not picked up as much as it should be. the ladder was just, sitting on the other side of the stairs completely loose , i distinctly remember it being a ladder but it was really more of a tube with no top, all sides of it were covered in extremely soft healthy grass, disturbingly bright in comparison to everything else. I took the stairs.

i can really only describe the basement as decrepid, walls have crumbled away to reveal supports that just look like dust and dirt, aunt/mom friend person tries to pull out a shelf and takes an entire section of a wall. she comments on how she couldnt tell that it was suppossed to be a part of the wall in the first place and honestly? i couldnt tell either. it just feels unnatural and dead in there and i decide to leave immediately. I take the ladder on the way back up and feel refreshed

since we’re all set in we head back into town to explore some more, on the way there we see a a couple dance and play groups and stuff like that performing in the streets, most of the members are middle school age with some adults, we stop at a large one featuring a dance troop performing some thing based on disneys pocahontas, with actual native americans playing the different parts but it still reaaaaaaaally doesnt feel right (i comment on this to my brother)

cut forward to the end of one scene and this dude dressed as a raccoon introduces himself as haaving the very important role of allowing people to kick him in the stomach (he has that cartoon bully voice like, that dude from phineas and ferb or campcamp) and then of course im like WHAT THE FUCK and step the fuck in cause i aint abt to watch this stocky ass little kid get his ass beat

This offends raccoon dude and this next part is really fuzzy, probably because too much happened in this part of the dream and ive been up for abt an hour now so memory of the dream is starting to fade, but during this part one of raccoon kids legs gets broken and i get dragged to the top of a giant fucking dam above where the performance is going to continue. Raccoon kid explains that he has obtained special permission to have people kick his neck instead. He demonstrates this with a drawing of a multicolored striped worm? Like, pointing at one stripe and saying kick me here, (this is played for laughs)

So the dam im on towers above every single building ive seen in the entire area, as even the department store was only 2 very short levels tall, and thats when it really clicks that something is absolutely not fucking right with this area, like, with how many people are here how do they fit in such small buildings?? Etc etc cause it just doesnt match

Before i get murdered or something i dunno, dylan steps in from either the troop or somewhere else? And we fucking book it

Dreams going to be out of order now but essentially what happens is us fucking booking it from a bunch of people, and heres just some bullet points before this turns into a fucking essay

Get back to where i stay thinking im safe

Mom stabs out camera in my phone on accident

Not safe there so me and dylan try to find a safe place in various hotels, every single one we check in this building has people fucking or about to fuck so we book right as those group of men in black break in to try and get us, they arent even in suits or anything theyre really obviously supposed to be undercover but theyre all in black so???? Stick out bad

We leave the city and its the next day by now, next segment of dream is us hiding in various patches of grass and bushes while cops on horses run around trying to find us, (several minutes of this is just them continually jumping directly above where we are, the timing feels like it’s supposed to be comedic)im very scared of getting stepped on, legs are starting to hurt from runninng and we’re getting hungry

Next area is also extremely grassy, less yellow toned as the area before, just feels safe here, i take a nap in a concrete thing, its like.. If u took a drawing of a football and raised the outlines of the shape up like walls, it titled down the hill slightly and ended in water, like a really weird version of the things that we have that let our creeks and stuff pass under  roads

Theres two dudes playing football or something nearby, they seem nice and dont bother us except to make sure we’re okay (i dont like jocks so this surprises me)

Im not sure if this next part was real in the dream or not as my dream self was very disoriented at this point, i fed an enderman a marshmellow and almost drown, this is somehow an older womans fault?

So cops catch up again and we waid through a flooded area of something.. Not sure if im underground or in a city its just dark and cold and wet and feels like death, get out of there mercifully quick, need to rest but cant

I lose my shoes at some point during this and comment to dylan that i have to get shoes or im not going to last, legs hurt a lot at this point, running on adrenaline alone

So we go to target!

We get split up

I keep going to the sports section? Somehow manage to blend in the building at different points so i have a bit to rest my legs as four just, normal cashier type guys keep trying to catch me, i kno im going to collapse soon

I put on some shoes and im about to walk out in them calmly as ive realised i blend in at this point, im recognised either by the bright blue shirt im wearing or my face as one of the target workers is a coworker of mine

He comes across as kinda malicious, i dont remember his name atm but hes the guy who thinks its okay to say ret*rded because its uuuuuur fault for getting offended

I get tackled down and give up, legs were going to give out soon anyway, im not sure where dylan is as we got separated ages ago and adreniline kicks back in but im pinned by 4 people so its hopeless

And then i woke up, heart rate was really fast, i thinkk i slept almost exactly 8 hours

so things that stick out the most in this dream, inclusion of real people, the extreme detail and the consistant use of nature as something sinister, like false hope or something

[pwanch]

Ankko week day 2: Children

“Hey Andrew, I got a weird, hypothetical question for you.”

 Akko turned on her side to face Andrew from her back to see his reaction to her question. They’ve been cloud watching on the grassy fields outside the leyline entrance for Luna Nova on top of a blanket for the past several hours and Akko was starting to get a bit bored. Their arguments around imaginary hypothetical situations never ceased to amuse her.

“Akko I can never tell what’s a weird question and what’s not, especially when it comes from you. But alright- shoot.” He tilted his head towards Akko but didn’t change his position.

Akko glared at him for his comment but then got back onto her earlier train of thought “How different would our relationship be if we originally met as kids?”

Andrew blinked in surprise for a few seconds and then shifted onto his side facing Akko, trying to read her face to figure out where that question came from but was met with his girlfriend’s poker face.

“That certainly is a weird question, and not to mention completely random. Why? What brought this up?” He was always surprised when Akko jumped from one unrelated topic to the next.

Akko laced their fingers together and looked at his eyes “I was just thinking about how you and Diana have known each other since you were a kid, yet only recently you two seem to be on friendlier terms. Mostly I was wondering if we would be as close as we are now if we met earlier.”

Andrew looked at their entwined fingers and lightly squeezed Akko’s hand.

“Hmm. I’m not entirely sure actually. Knowing how entrenched I was in my father’s ideals back then, I doubt it honestly. However, seeing that you’re incredibly persistent, stubborn as hell and naturally draw people towards you, you might have found a way to worm yourself in my heart like you did when we first met. But now I’m wondering, how would we have met as kids? We lived on opposite sides of the globe.”

Akko laughed, seeing she drew her boyfriend into her hypothetical questions yet again. “I dunno dude, maybe your dad had a business trip to Japan or something?”

He looked at his girlfriend quizzically “Why would a British politician take a trip to Japan and bring his only son? Wouldn’t that be too much of a security risk?”

Akko rolled her eyes. “Andrew did you forget that vacations existed for a moment there? But not that you mention it, I’m not even sure if it would have been possible for us to meet because you’d be so close with your dad unless you ran off or something.”

Andrew ended up laughing at the idea of child-him running off from his father. “I know I do have a taste for adventure, but I don’t think child-me would have run off like that. If we did meet as kids and became friends, it might have been a pen-pal kind of relationship for a while until we lost touch, probably due to my father finding out that I was in contact with someone who liked magic knowing his former “anti-magic” stance, and then reuniting like how we first met. But to answer your first question, not much would have changed, probably.”

Akko smiled at her boyfriend. “You put a lot of thought into that, didn’t you? If it did end up like that, I think it would be pretty sad, especially at losing contact after being pen pals for so long. However the reunion miight have run a bit smoother than how we actually met.”

“Well of course, I fully intend to answer to the best of my ability when you ask me something, even if its just a hypothetical question.” Andrew raised his eyebrow at Akko’s last statement. “Really? even in this scenario I don’t think it would have run smoother, it would have started on the wrong foot regardless.”

Akko poked her boyfriend on the cheek with her free hand. “The whole agree-to-disagree thing we do? eh. it’d probably happen. Although the reunion would be happier and would have more catching up vs arguing.”

Andrew kissed the top of Akko’s head “Maybe, but to reiterate that this is completely a hypothetical scenario. Trying to discuss it more drags the both of us deeper down the rabbit hole, so why don’t we end that here?”

Akko blushed a tad feeling Andrew kiss her head but still pouted a bit. “boo. But they’re fun though!”

“You can also come up with any topic on a dime. Also, shouldn’t we start to head back? I think the clouds are starting to darken like it will rain.” Andrew looked up at the sky that was much more gray than it was 5 minutes ago.

Akko ended up sitting upright and held out her hand to check for rain “yeaaaah we probably should. Do you want me to fly you back?” Akko pointed to her broom that lay just outside the blanket.

Andrew pulled out his phone to check the time “No, my ride will show up pretty soon, but thank you.” He smiled as his girlfriend in appreciation.

Akko grinned “Alright, text me when you get home?”

“Will do” Andrew leaned in to breifly kiss his girlfriend and then waved at her when she turned to leave towards the leyline entrance with her broom and the blanket.