#old rug Personalized gifts

[awkward-walking-potato]

A Heart of Adamantium

Valentine’s Day spent with Logan

Like always my requests are open!

Valentine’s Day had always been just another day for Logan. He’d seen and lived through more than most people could imagine, and sentimentality wasn’t exactly his thing. But this year, something was different. You were different. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to make him reconsider.

The day started like any other. Logan was up at dawn, the weight of his usual routine grounding him in a world that often felt too chaotic to navigate. But as he walked through the halls of Xavier’s School, he noticed the little things—the heart-shaped decorations, the laughter of the students, the smell of chocolate and roses wafting through the air. It was all too sweet, too innocent for someone like him.

Then he saw you.

You were standing in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you prepared breakfast. The sight of you, so peaceful and content, did something to him that he couldn’t quite explain. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to do something for you—something that might bring a smile to your face.

“Morning,” you said with a smile as you noticed him leaning in the doorway. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, you too,” Logan grumbled, a little awkward, unsure of how to respond. He wasn’t used to this—these feelings, this softness that crept up on him whenever you were around.

You tilted your head, sensing his unease. “You got any plans today?”

He shook his head. “Not really. Never been much for holidays.”

You smiled, something playful and warm in your expression. “Well, then maybe we can do something together?”

Logan hesitated, the idea of celebrating Valentine’s Day so foreign to him. But the thought of spending time with you—it was something he couldn’t pass up.

“Alright,” he finally said, a small, almost shy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’d you have in mind?”

Later that day, you led him out of the mansion and into the nearby woods, where the two of you found a quiet spot to relax. It was simple, just a blanket spread out under the bare winter trees, a thermos of hot coffee, and the peaceful sounds of nature around you.

“Here,” you said, handing him a small, wrapped box.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at you with genuine surprise.

“Just a little something,” you replied, your eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Logan carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a handcrafted leather bracelet. It was simple, yet rugged—something that perfectly suited him. You had added a small charm in the shape of a wolf, a subtle nod to his animalistic nature.

“I made it myself,” you said softly, watching his reaction.

For a moment, Logan was speechless. He wasn’t used to receiving gifts, especially something so personal. His thumb brushed over the leather, and he looked at you, his usually hardened expression softened by emotion.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice gruff but sincere. “It’s… it’s perfect.”

You smiled, reaching out to gently clasp the bracelet around his wrist. “I’m glad you like it.”

Logan stared at the bracelet for a long moment, feeling something he hadn’t felt in years—gratitude, warmth, and maybe even a hint of happiness. He wasn’t sure how to express it, but he knew he wanted to do something for you in return.

Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, weathered box. He handed it to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What’s this?” you asked, surprised.

“Open it,” he said simply.

Inside was a small, silver locket. It was old, something he’d carried with him for longer than he could remember. But today, he wanted you to have it.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, touched by the gesture.

“Belonged to someone important a long time ago,” Logan said quietly. “But I figure it’s time it belonged to someone else.”

You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words, the significance of the gift. Tears welled up in your eyes as you fastened the locket around your neck, feeling its cool weight against your skin.

“Thank you, Logan,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

He nodded, leaning back on the blanket, his arm casually draping around your shoulders. For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the connection between you deepening in the quiet moments of shared solitude.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the woods, Logan turned to you, his voice low and rough.

“I’ve seen a lot of things in my life,” he said, “but I never thought I’d be here, doing this… feeling like this.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Neither did I,” you whispered, “but I’m glad we are.”

Logan’s hand found yours, his grip strong but gentle. “Me too.”

And for the first time in a long time, Logan allowed himself to just be—no battles to fight, no demons to face. Just a man sitting in the woods with someone he cared about on a day that had always seemed meaningless until now.

[ahllohehn]

Gem's area ,or whatever the Oracle has, has two kinds of decorations cute cottagecore stuff, and spooky stuff like skulls and stuff

An excerpt from the Camp Oracle's Journal:

"I put some fairy lights and curtains around the cave to make it seem homier. I also made a really wide tent filled with blankets and pillows to add up to the comfiness. After all, it was going to be my home for the next few weeks until I had to go back to school. Actually, it’s gonna be my home for the next summers to come!

There’s not much yet, but I hope to add more soon. Grian’s sister, Pearl, came to visit for a while to get a look at the new oracle (aka me). She was really nice! She helped me out on setting up the decorations around my cave and even gave me an old plushie of hers to add to my tent.

It was a well-loved wolf plushie, if the way the seams were already threatening to burst from just how much it’s been hugged, probably.

I didn’t want to take it at first because, you know, sentimental value! I couldn’t just take away her childhood plushie! But she was really adamant about giving it to me. She reasoned that Tilly (the name of the plushie, by the way) would be safer with me than it was with Grian.

Pearl couldn’t take the plushie with her because she’s always on the move with the goddess Artemis, Hunters of Artemis duties and all that. “It’d be a shame if it got lost mid-expedition,” she said.

And who was I to reject after that reason, you know? So now I have little Tilly living with little Gem in the super comfy and cool Oracle cave!"

Thank you for continuing to read! Have a tour of what's inside of Gem's cave:

COMFY CORNER OF THE CAVE

Cat beanbags and plushies - The cat beanbag is customized to look like Jellie. It was mainly put there during times Scar comes by to hang out with her so he wouldn't have to stay for too long on his wheelchair while visiting.

Seawater rug - Personally sewed by Xisuma after hearing that Gem had interest in marine biology. He wanted her to feel happier when resting in her cave since the cave was too far from the shore and the sea.

Aquatic animal plushies - Impulse and Skizz excitedly came over to give her fish plushies as a welcome gift. The clownfish is named Skizzy. The shark is named Impy, named accordingly to who gave which.

Small foldable table - Gem doesn't fold it often as she keeps her art stuff on it. She draws and makes the pins here.

BY THE WALL

Skull-shaped fairy lights - Not always green in color, but she keeps it green to make everything feel creepy. She had normal fairy lights before this but Cleo jokingly replaced it with string lights she bought during Halloween. Gem liked it so she kept it.

Worn out sword / Worn out shield - Not hers to begin with. They're actually normal weapons Etho had forged as practice before. He gifts them to Gem everytime she wins a spar against him to act as 'spoils of war.'

DESK / CURTAINED SIDE

Desk - There's chairs facing each other on each side of the table. This is where she mainly meets the campers for personal prophecies.

A line of potted plants along the wall - Bdubs offered to give her plants he thinks Gem would like to care for. There's mostly small sunflowers and succulents along the wall. One of the potted plants grew a particular one Gem never saw before. It was only when Pearl came over and questioned why she had a moonlace flower in her cave that she realized she was growing a magical plant. Bdubs never answered as to why he gave it to her.

TENT

Where Gem mainly sleeps. In here, you will never feel uncomfy as she's probably got 20 pillows and 5 blankets in there. Pearl's old plushie, Tilly, lives there with her. Grian asks to come in and cuddle with it when he has a particularly rough day.

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[honeyhenry]

Apple Pie and You and I: A Very Happy Seresin

Ignore the fact it has been over a year since the last instalment...I would offer my life story but it has been HECTIC. Anyways, I have never ceased to think of Dad-to-be!Jake Seresin and since it is now the summer holidays, my gift to you is this lovely part 4 of the APAYAI series!

In the calm haze of what surely would be a sweet summer, you found rest in the peace held within the mid-June evening. Jake would return shortly from his quick job out by Mav's old place, helping Rooster refurbish the old skyline beauty Maverick hadn't had the time for lately. A whole stack of them had taken their turn, and while Jake remained a reliable friend now in the squad, he had really fought it internally, not wishing to leave your side.

Not when he could be snuggled up to his wife, on the porch or resting on the sofa, smelling the strawberry shampoo from your hair, or your shea butter moisturiser. Nor could he kiss you as and when he liked from 4.30pm, the second he got home from work, all the way to bedtime and then again in the morning before you both headed off - him to base, and you to your kindergarten class.

No, he wasn't going to be home until closer to 9 - almost 30 minutes away yet - and the worst part was, he was missing more than just you these days. The swell that continued to grow once you'd left Texas had become his new obsession - the slice of heaven that he already adored because they were going to be just like you, and make you look like the sweetest, hottest little thing this side of the States.

Resting quietly on the sofa, you await his return, knowing he'll ache and sweat and smell on his return - you can't wait to soak him all in and show him the newest development. You swear this baby grows dramatically overnight, a claim you state often whilst Jake just smirks because it's his big Seresin baby that he personally delivered, that grows and nestles inside you.

Your living area is lit by a chamomile candle and a yellow lamp that envelopes the room into a warm glow. The scattered pillows across the sofa and rug are perfect to relax on, and your most recent book "Parenting 101" swapped out for Cosmo magazine led to an idyllic evening. A small cup of tea and the night had gone perfectly.

Sooner than expected, you hear Jake's truck pull up into the driveway. Instead of standing to check and then unlock the door, you wait. Jake much prefers you to stay safely in the house, always alerting you if he has arrived - that you shouldnt be moving a muscle if you can help it. 8.36pm - he's early.

"Lovebug? It's me, I'm home!" he hollers into the foyer of the house, his deep voice carrying through to the living room. Pressing your soft bunny slippers to the floor, you call back.

"In the living room, honey!"

You hear footsteps and then a moment later, there he is, basking in the glow of the lamp above you. Or is it sweat? You can't decide for sure, taken aback by the mixed smells of oil and sweat.

"Hey baby," he finds your lips, leaning over the sofa to not get it marked, "and hey little baby." You smile as he extends a warm hand down to your stomach, smiling softly as he soaks in the moment.

"How was work? And Mav's?"

"Fine, fine. Got a bunch of stuff fixed in the back, Bradshaw got covered in grease and oil so if you see him with a black moustache, you'll know why."

You giggle as he stretches and then quirks a brow. "More importantly, how are you? How is peanut treating you? Being a good and upstanding citizen?"

"I think they grew again overnight. Or through the day, really since breakfast - although it might just be breakfast and my other meals.

"Yeah? Lemme see" he pulls you up carefully and you stand, moving past the plethora of pillows you had build a comfortable place to sit. He smooths his hand down his own shorts first, hoping it would be clean enough, before undoing a little clasp of your pyjama shirt to gain access to your stomach. His hand, warm and firm, rests atop your belly and you can't quite tell if its just butterflies, or that the baby is starting to move within you.

"Oh yeah, i feel it." he rubs softly still. "They're certainly growin'. Good job peanut" he speaks in high praise "and good job Momma...makin' us a baby..."

You have a quick kiss before you usher him upstairs to shower, and you turn the lights off, blow the candle out, and head upstairs to bed. You have your routine set - facial moisturiser, nightly stretches, a warm cup of tea, and belly rubs with your new balm.

You are finishing up your routine, rubbing small shapes into your belly as the smell of coconut fills the room. Jake adores watching you, from the doorway of the en suite. You sit back a little, scooping the balm onto your palm before ever so carefully applying it in small circles, then larger, deeper strokes while still taking tender care of your body. His favourite part has to be when you start whispering sweet words to your belly, realising you aren't alone in this routine. He's caught you a handle of times with; "We love you so much"; "Have you had a nice day in there, hm?" and tonight is no different.

"You're gonna be nice and relaxed in there hm? Me and daddy love you little baby pie. Could just eat you up..."

Moving from the door, he speaks up, hoping to not jolt or surprise you too much.

"Hey, don't go eating up my legacy now"

You giggle, a sound he knows will only ever be beaten by his child's first cry, before halting your laughter at the mere sight of him.

Leaning against the doorway, dripping wet, with a towel barely clinging around his waist. It would be a lie to say that your husband had never looked so good, because this was his standard. Anything he set his mind to, he would accomplish. It just so happened that having a body to die for was the collateral. And here he was, gazing into your soul, heart soaring while watching you treasure and love upon his biggest achievement yet.

"Don't you worry an inch Lieutenant. But I just know they are the cutest, I mean look!" you gesture to his side of the bed. All that sits there is his watch, his alarm clock, and a framed picture of the sweet blob sonogram. "You agree!"

"Yes honey, they're cute I know. Cause they're half you. The other half? Well they'll be the best Top Gun 2050 graduate if they get anything from their Pops."

"You know what, I want them to be all of you."

"Oh really?" Jake shucks off the towel before grabbing his pyjama shorts, grinning cockily as he stretches and flexes, much to your amusement. "I mean I get it, who wouldn't wanna go for a dip in this gene pool?"

"I'm serious, you goof! I have dreams, and the baby...they have your eyes, and that one little dimple like you have your cheek, and, and I don't know. I feel, when I feel the baby, that they're just like you. They feel like home. And-"

You're halted by his physique pressing up beside you, kissing you as if he'd been on an infinite deployment and that holding you was the only sure sign that he was really back home; alive, safe, loved.

"You make me the happiest man alive. You both do. Now, lemme check the house and I'll be right back to hear more about these dreams you're having about me." He winks and you groan, knowing your confession will fuel his ego that little bit more.

As he heads downstairs, you begin massaging your belly again before crying out;

"Oh, Jake!"

You hear the clatter of the teacup he'd taken downstairs, and 5 loud thumping footsteps before he reappears at the door.

"What?!"

With big doe eyes, you smile sheepishly.

"I forgot to tell you, the baby is the size of an apple today."

Jake's expression shifts from one of panic, to utter relief. His chest visibly drops and he runs a hand through his drying hair.

"Baby....don't do that...y'just scared me to death. I'll be right back and then y'can tell me all about it."

On his return from locking up, checking the lights and ensuring he had his uniform laid out for the next day, Jake quietly moved into the bedroom and clicked the door shut. In one hand, he had a glass of water - one you'd never ask for but he knows you'd need through the night. In the other, is a thick, wooden book covered in a multitude of colours and shapes.

You quirk an eyebrow, curious about whatever Jake was holding.

"No Aviator's Digest or Fatherhood 101 tonight?"

"Actually, Bradley gave me this, wanted us to have it at least for now. Something' bout reading to the baby. Then they know my voice... if I'm away." Jake looks down at the book as he shuffles into bed, doing his best not to disturb how comfortable you have made yourself during your nightly routine.

You know that being away now means a great deal more to Jake than before. The issue is sensitive, of course. He doesn't want to be an absent father in the way deployments and time on base can project. You haven't spoken about it too much, but you know it will bother him. Simultaneously, giving up the job he has worked so hard for to be more present is a big sacrifice. One that would also be financially risky to your growing family.

Instead of diving deeper, you keep it light. Jake has no plans to go anywhere anytime soon, or even for very long. It's best to focus on what you can control.

"Oh? What book is it?"

"Something about a hungry caterpillar. Looks a bit demonic on the front, but Bradshaw swore his cousin's kids loved it."

He rests up against the headboard, curling one arm around your shoulders, intertwining his hand with yours atop your belly. Certain that he has you safe and warm in his arms, he unpops your shirt again at your tummy "so they can hear" which has you rolling your eyes. He holds the book right by your belly, and begins.

"Good evening, baby Seresin. This is your father, your Pops. Now you gotta listen - there's a test at the end of this story and we don't tolerate anything but top marks here."

"Jacob Seresin!"

"All right, all right. Now, are we ready? Then let's begin. In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf. One Sunday morning..."

By the time he had turned to the middle page after his soft southern drawl had recounted a feast of apples, pears, and plums, you - and baby - were fast asleep. Closing the wooden book, he pops the button back into place carefully, sorts your pillows, and turns off your bedside lamp.

He'd finish the story tomorrow evening.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The Language of Wolves, a Fairy Tale

There is a wolf with the voice of a person up on the hill. Travelers were sent there, both the lucky and unlucky sorts, if they could not speak the common tongue. The wolf had mastered any language he had ever heard and the people of the valley were both reasonable and warry. Send the travelers to the wolf, they said, bound by hospitality, and ask him who taught him how to speak or else whose witches throat he tore out and stitched into his own.

Many unsuspecting pilgrims, soldiers, merchants, and wayward souls, found themselves on the doorstep of a creature wearing silks and smiling in fangs. He knew their local songs though, every bit of story, and they woke in the morning with their lives intact and bags un-stolen. So the wolf remained even as borders shifted and languages died, even as scholars arrived and the wolf refused all questions on the nature of its knowledge. A humble beast it said, wearing coats of finest red only as the lords allow it.

Monks whispered of a miracle, nuns gave a pilgrimage of fresh goats and blood to the wolf at his doorstep, holy wanderers said perhaps even wolves had souls–even wolves could be saved. Others, of course, only asked more questions. 

Finally, there came a tricky man. Aged and silver, unwed, a scholar and a soldier both, coming from afar and very close all at once. The Scholar Soldier came in the downpour and the night, shed his muddy boots on the poor beast’s rug, and spoke in guttural tongues. The wolf’s eyes narrowed, and he used the voice of every person to ask where the Scholar Soldier came from. And the man spoke in tongues until the wolf’s ears laid flat against his head.

Do you not recognize it? said the Scholar Soldier, how can you not? The Scholar Soldier threw back his head and let out a howl–for he had fought in fairy wars, on the side of beasts, and knew the language of the wolves from the very first. The wolf tore off his fine red coat, tore at his beautiful cravat, and wept upon his floor. Can you take it back? he cried, can you make me whole?

Not a gift, of course, but a curse. As a mother turns away from her cub, placing a thorn in his throat that made him able to practice every language in the world but his own. Thrown out. The Scholar Soldier took pity on the old wolf and took him as a groom. They could be happy, he said, even if they were speaking with words never their own.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Under a Star-Flecked Sky

Author's Note: This was supposed to be some Rhysand x Reader fluff, but the depression brain-rot got the better of me and I wrote some angsty, post-UtM Rhys moments instead (don't worry there is some fluff at the end). My baby just needs a hug, and honestly I think SJM did him dirty by brushing his trauma Under the Mountain under the rug.

Warnings: Mentions of Amarantha, Rhys' Post-UtM Trauma

Summary: You're Rhys' mate, having already been with him before the Mountain, and are navigating Rhys' healing journey as best you can.

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

The bed was cold; the realization jarring you from the deep clutches of sleep. Your bed was never cold, not when your mate was in it. Rhysand ran warm, your own personal heater, usually spending the night curled around you, cocooned inside the safety of his wings, but those great wings and the male attached to them were nowhere to be seen. His side of the bed empty, the sheets rumpled, blanket haphazardly clinging to the side of the mattress like he'd flung it off in a hurry, even though you hadn't heard him get up.

You sat up, shivering in the chill coming through the open windows, the satin curtains billowing in the autumn breeze. It would be too cold to leave them open soon, a fact you knew often put your mate on edge, especially after...

You called for him down the bond you shared with your mate, worried. It had been a couple months since Rhys had returned home to Velaris after Amarantha; the nightmares had been constant the first couple of weeks, at one point they had gotten so bad he'd started spending the night at the Moonstone Palace, claiming he had work to do to avoid you and the rest of the Inner Circle from seeing him like that, but with some help from Madja and some other healers in the city he'd been able to get a handle on it. Usually. Some nights were worse than others. You'd tried to be as supportive as possible, even going down to the Library to read up on ways to help. There were calming teas you'd started making for him before bed, the recipe tucked in one of those old books, but you suspected Rhys drank it just to make you feel like you were helping, the cup still half full on the bedside table. You'd drifted off shortly after handing it to him last night.

When there was no answer down the bond, you crawled out of the bed, dragging the blanket with you. The black silk slip you wore did nothing to stave off the cold, you'd worn the birthday gift from Rhys down to its threads over the years he was gone. He'd offered to buy you a new one--multiple in more colors--but you'd refused. It was your favorite, you'd find some magic to keep it held together if you had to. Still, it was the wrong time of the year for it, and you opted to stay warm under the blanket instead of pausing to change into something else as you left the room in search of your mate, still calling for him down the bond.

He gave no answer, his end silent. As silent as it had been for the last 50 years, that great, formidable wall of adamant shielding him from you.

You bit your lip as you checked each room in the house, all empty, save for the one Cassian was snoring in at the end of the Hall. They'd started taking turns sleeping over, keeping an eye on their brother. Azriel had stayed the night before, Mor the night before that. They stole your wine and played old board games until the early hours of the morning, trying to get Rhys' to laugh, or smile at the least. He didn't do a lot of that these days.

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. He'd been through so much and half the time he'd just shut down and shut you out, unable to explain what had happened. What she had done to him. Most nights you wondered if there was a way to let you into Hell, just so you could kill her a second time. You'd had a long time to think about what you'd do if you ever had the chance to get your hands on her. Not that it mattered in the end, you'd never been able to get into the Mountain. You'd failed him then and it was starting to feel like you were failing him again now as you all but sprinted through the house.

It took longer than you would like to admit to notice that the balcony doors in the living room were open. Rhys left the windows open, never the doors, even if Velaris was the safest place in Prythian, he'd never leave you vulnerable like that, not unless he was nearby.

Tears pricked your eyes, your lower lip bleeding from how hard you'd been biting down on it as you stepped out into the frigid night air. The lounge chairs and tables along the edge were all empty, no glass of Rhys' favorite whiskey in sight.

Your heart thundered in your ears, thoughts racing. Where the hell was he? Had something happened? Was he in danger?

You were about to start calling his name in desperation before a shifting tile on the roof caught your attention. One of the pieces had been knocked loose--a new occurrence because you'd had to replace them after a drunk Cassian had tried to do a back flip off it last week.

Clutching the blanket around your shoulders with one hand, you used the other to pull a chair over to where the corner of the roof hung over the balcony, and carefully climbed up. The townhouse roof was not as steep as the Palace roof, or even the cabin in Illyria, where you and your mate used to sit and talk about all his plans for his city and his people.

That ache in your chest returned tenfold as you spotted your mate, sitting at the highest point of the roof, knees to his chest, wings wrapped around himself to fight against the cold. His head was tucked against his knees, ebony hair covering his eyes. This was not his spot to stargaze. This was not like all those times you'd sat together, whispering your dreams to the stars, so hopeful and eager for the future. This was not the ambitious and hopeful High Lord who had swept you into the glittering world of the Night Court and mapped out a future among the stars with you all those years ago. You had gone to the cabin in Illyria only once while he was away, and the loss of him, the bond so quite and empty and cold in the place you had formed it had been so devastating you'd almost ripped the place apart one wood plank at a time. At the time you had been so sure you had lost him forever that you'd nearly ripped everything you had built together apart in your grief. You had left all those dreams you shared in those woods and vowed that you would never whisper any prayers to the stars ever again. Not if their heir was gone and their reflection in his violet eyes would never look your way again. You had stopped dreaming in his absence. Nights like this you wondered if he had too. Perhaps the Mountain had taken more from both of you then you dared to admit, even to each other. What good were dreams if the stars no longer listened, if they would no longer answer you?

It was an easy climb to him compared to all the other roofs you had climbed to sit with him in the past, even with the blanket still clutched around your shoulders.

Rhys didn't look up. You weren't even sure he'd heard you. Still, you lowered yourself to sit next to him, the worry swirling in the pit of your stomach only beginning to settle as you took in the jasmine and citrus scent of him. This was the part where you said something witty, threw the blanket around him and chastised him for leaving you alone, but maybe those were games for the people you were before. The last time he hadn't heard you coming, too caught up in his own head to hear you, he'd flinched so hard his powers had knocked a bookshelf over, panic flooding the bond. He accidentally showed you a flash of red hair and pointed nails, scratching at his back before he'd ripped the memory away and locked himself in the bathroom. You'd been trying to find ways to avoid doing it ever again.

It was a long, tense few minutes before Rhys lifted his head off his knees just enough to look at you. "Did I wake you?" His voice was raw, like he'd been screaming.

You wanted to touch him, to hold him in your arms and stroke his hair and make it all better, as his touch had always done for you, but everything was so different. Sometimes you were sure he let you hold his hands because he knew you wanted to, not because he wanted to.

It had been a long couple months, you'd been weighing and measuring every word, trying not to startle him, trying not to make him feel any guilt or shame. He had saved you, and your family, had given everything he'd had to ensure that she didn't taint any bit of your home, you owed him a solid front, a shoulder to lean on. You had not spoken of how scared you had been, how cold and empty and wretched you had felt for every moment of the last fifty years. You'd crafted a nice mask for the court to see, holding steady in his absence, not taking it off, even after his return in hopes that it would ease his burden. But the words came tumbling out of you, the tidal wave of emotions bubbling up and bursting out in a rush, "You scared me."

He sat up a little straighter, pain flashing across his star flecked eyes.

"The bond was quite," tears pricked your eyes. "Cold. You wouldn't answer me. You'd shut me out." It was that last bit more than anything. You could handle the nightmares. You could handle this new version of your mate, because truth be told there had been times you weren't sure he was ever coming back, whatever shape he was in was irrelevant in the long run as long as he was alive. All the newness, the unease and uncertainty, the new quite version of him was easy to handle. But the quiet, knowing he'd shut you out again...

"I know that you need time, and space, and I'm trying to give that to you, Rhys, but..."

He unfurled his wings enough to wrap one around you, an arm sliding around your waist to pull you against his side. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered against your temple, planting gentle, feather light kisses against your skin as you buried your face in he crook of his neck.

He was here. He was safe. This was real. All things you often had to remind yourself of.

"Please don't shut me out like that," you whispered, the tears falling freely down your cheeks. "Not again. I can bear a lot, Rhys, but not any more of that."

His wings came back around to cover both of you as he stroked a hand through your hair. Still, aside from a few more whispered apologies, he didn't speak, didn't attempt to explain himself. You tried to tell yourself it was fine, he didn't have to explain, he'd earned the right to keep whatever he needed to to himself, if he wanted to tell you he would. But he still had not lowered his shields, did not project anything down the bond. A part of you wanted to scream, grab onto that tether that linked your souls together and shake it like you could somehow force life back into it. Maybe things would be better if you could. Maybe they'd be worse. You tried to tell yourself this was enough.

"There are things," he said finally, his voice pained like he was having trouble putting it together, no sign of that silver tongue of his. "Things I can't... can't talk about."

You laid your hand over his heart, feeling the uneven beat. It was rare for Rhys to be so obviously anxious.

"Things I won't talk about."

"It's not healthy-"

"No," he growled, tightening his grip on your waist to keep you from pulling back to look him in the eyes. By the uneasiness of his breathing you thought he might be crying himself. "You do not need to know. You will hear enough of my sins from everyone else."

Sins, as if he had done any of it willingly, as if he'd had any choice in it.

"You didn't have a choice," you began.

"It doesn't matter," Rhys countered. "That is not the story they will tell."

He would be the villain, the little lackey that did her dirty work, the monster that ripped people's minds apart for his evil queen. You'd heard the story in the High Lord's meetings over and over again--and worse, especially from Beron and Tamlin. "I don't believe anyone else's stories. I don't care what they think you've done, or why you'd done it. I don't care, Rhys, because it's not true."

He buried his head in the top of you hair, a shuttering breath ripping out his chest.

You shot as much understanding and love down the bond as you could, hoping some of it would eventually break through that wall between you. "I love you, I'll always love you, Rhys, nothing will change that."

His wings tightened around you, soft moonlight shining through the soft membrane, highlighting centuries worth of nicks and battle scars. You longed to run your fingers over them, familiarize yourself once again with the patterns and feelings you had forgotten in the last fifty years.

"But how are we supposed to move forward if we don't talk to each other?" You whispered. "I miss you. I miss talking to you. You're my best friend, my mate, we promised to always be honest and open with each other."

You twisted to be able to look at him, pulling away just enough to catch the glimmer of tears in his eyes. You reached out gently to wipe one off his cheek and he shuttered at the contact.

"It doesn't have to be tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week. I know that you need time, and I am not asking you to give me details you don't want to, but there's gotta be some way for us to talk to each other again, isn't there?"

He tilted his head to kiss your fingertips. "I'm sorry, I know I've hurt you," he murmured against your fingertips, his lips soft and warm against your chilled skin. "I'm trying." He moved his lips to your palm, placing featherlight kisses on the way down, his offering of another apology, as if to tell you he was sorry you had to be there to wipe away any tears. He'd been like that before, but not this bad.

"I know," you said, "but in the mean time, can I at least have a thought for a thought?"

He hummed against your palm. "You first."

"I'm thinking we really should have put in more comfortable roof tiles," you said, twisting against the tile that was biting into the underside of your thighs.

He shifted and pulled you to sit in his lap with a huff of what was almost a laugh. The shift in conversation was good, kept you both from spiraling further into all the uncertainty the future still held. If you couldn't talk about the past, at least there were things in the present to talk about.

"And I'm thinking," you added as you settled against his strong chest, his heartbeat a bit more steady against you now. "That you make a very comfortable seat."

"That's two."

"First one was free," you say, resting your head against his shoulder.

He was quiet for a long moment, just the two of you wrapped in each other under the stars.

"I'm thinking..." his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands finding yours so you could intertwine them. "That I clearly need to get you some new socks, your feet are freezing!"

He was clad in nothing but his underwear, you only now realized, and you had instinctively wrapped your legs around his, seeking any kind of warmth you could find. There wasn't a full sleep set between the two of you.

You couldn't help but laugh, even if this wasn't how you'd hoped the conversation would go, at least it was a conversation. "You know I hate sleeping with socks on, that's not fair."

"Slippers than," he conceded.

You intentionally brushed your cold feet up the side of his leg. "Fuzzy ones. And only if they're bright pink."

"Ridiculous," he huffed, "but if you insist."

"I want them to look like cats too."

"Pink cats?"

"Pink cats."

"Pink cats it is then."

You grinned at that. "We can go to the Rainbow tomorrow for them?"

"First thing in the morning," he promised as he settled his chin on your shoulder.

"We should go for breakfast. There's a new bakery on the Sidra. Well, new as in neither of us have been there, it's technically been open for awhile."

"You didn't go?"

You two had met in a bakery in Illyria, had fought over the last chocolate croissant until the shop owner had kicked both you out for scarring the other customers, it had become something of a weekly tradition to find which shop in Velaris had the best ones since. "I was waiting for you."

The arms around your middle squeezed a little tighter.

"I have a list of things for us to do, actually. A lot changed and I thought if, maybe I kept making a list it gave the Mother a reason to bring you back to me." It felt stupid, now that you'd said it aloud that you had hoped depriving yourself of a chocolate croissant would somehow force the Mother to bring your mate home, but you had been desperate, you weren't always thinking clearly.

Rhys nuzzled into the side of your neck. "Thank you, for waiting." You knew him well enough to know he wasn't talking about the bakery or the croissants.

"I would have waited a thousand years for you," you whispered.

"That's a long time without chocolate croissants," he teased.

"They're worth the wait," you replied, hoping he knew you well enough to know you weren't talking about croissants either.

He merely hummed understandingly as he settled against your shoulder, his breathing evening out against your back. You relished in the rise and fall of his chest, of his warm breath against your throat. He was alive, he was here, he'd made it home.

"What else is on this list of yours?"

"There's a new dinner cruise around the Sidra, an art exhibit in the Rainbow, three new plays," you counted them off on your fingers, trying to remember all of them now. Sleep was beginning to beckon again, your eyes heavy, speech slowing. "The Night Orchestra is coming back into town, you missed them twice. There's a new ice cream shop to try..." there was something else, but your mind was growing hazy. A yawn escaped you.

Rhys tried to stand, but you grabbed frantically at his wrists. "I'm ok. Wanna stay here with you."

He settled back against the roof, laying back now with you tucked into his side. The blanket had gotten twisted between the two of you, doing little to keep out the bite of the roof tiles. You didn't care.

"Oh! There's a new place that sells some lacy things I think you'd like," you mumbled as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck and breathed in deep.

"For you or me?" He teased.

"For you to rip off of me," you said.

He kissed your temple, "We'll definitely have to stop there then."

You were trying your hardest to keep your eyes open, really you were, but they were growing heavier and heavier, the stars over head blurring in your vision. Maybe you had been wrong to stop wishing on them, despite all your pain, your mate had still returned to you, that dream had still been answered.

"We're gonna be ok, you know," You murmured into his neck.

"You think so?" He whispered.

"I'll wish it onto every star I see until it's answered," you vowed.

Rhys gripped you a little tighter, you gripped him back, eyes drifting shut fully now.

"Maybe I'll start making wishes again too," he said in your ear. You hoped, as you drifted off, that the stars heard him and would answer this wish too.

[itsblasttothepast]

Since most press and F1 pages hate Checo, he barely gets acknowledged when he gets nice things or others actually think he deserves praise. So I'll share this that made my heart swoon and be so happy for pookie.

Today it was posted that Checo got a gift in Azerbaijan:

Translation:

HONOR THE KING OF BAKU WITH AN AUTHENTIC WORK OF ART!

The traditional Dragon carpet was given to Checo Pérez, in tribute to his victories on the Baku circuit.

"I present to you the unique reinterpretation of the traditional Dragon rug, which combines centuries-old symbolism of Azerbaijani culture with modern design"

"This piece is made even more special by incorporating the colors of the Mexican flag with a tribute to Sergio Pérez's victory in Baku. A fusion of history and personal history, this unique design brings meaning and beauty to any space"

It was a high honor, unfortunately still got hate comments, I can't believe people!

Anyway, this is so nice, he totally deserves it, and tomorrow when he wins for the third time, it will be amazing!

Video: Here and Here

[gilverrwrites]

Their Perfect Dates HCs [Demon Edition]

Well.. demons + Benny

Rating: General

Angel Edition | Human Edition

Please remember: you can do hard things!

Belphegor

No gift, he’s from a time before that was a thing and does not care enough to check what the current trends are.

If you ask nice enough, he might bring you something next time.

Weirdly obsessed with humans however. (Just not in a ‘I wanna be like them’ way)

Find a cafe with outdoor seating in a highly populated area, and people watch.

Laugh at his jokes, and don’t be precious over your food/drink cause he’s gonna help himself.

‘Hot, not, not, HOT, extra hot.’ ‘This is so good, have you tried this?’ ‘It was yours? Oh shit, sorry. At least you have good taste… in multiple ways’ (he’d wink at you then, if he could.) ‘Ew have those pants ever in fashion?’ ‘Haha, did you see that kid face plant the side walk?! Get rekt’

Benny

He’s an old traditional man really, he’ll bring you a bouquet of daisies. Legitimately, if he could, he would ask your father for permission to take you out.

Cooking as has always been, and continues to be a big part of Benny's personality.

It doesn’t matter that the food no longer sustains him, because it keeps him connected to his home, and his history.

Plus, the way to any person's heart is through their stomach,

You’ll be in the kitchen together, cooking gumbo or jambalaya, and bananas foster for dessert.

If you don’t know how to cook, don’t worry. Benny is gonna take the lead anyway, he’ll teach you as much as you think you can handle.

He’s very respectful, but if you just so happen to brush against each other while working in the same space, well, that just can be helped now can it?

Or if you’re slightly in his way, sometimes he just needs to rest a gentle but firm hand on your hip and guide you to the side.

Or if you accidentally get something on your cheek? Your lip? He’ll have to get that for you.

Crowley

I’m picturing a rustic but sophisticated cabin in the woods.

Somewhere private, a safe space just for the two of you.

Something with a big, roaring fireplace.

A big, plush, velvety sofa, and an array of fluffy blankets, pillows, furs, rugs.

A fully stocked bar. ‘Don’t worry darling, you won’t have to lift a finger.’ He or a lesser demon will make all your drinks for you.

Just some real, 1 on 1 quality time together where you can both be vulnerable.

Whether you spend all night in deep conversation, cuddling, or getting even more intimate is your choice.

Meg

Would forget to bring you a gift, but if it goes well, she’ll likely give you one of her many pieces of jewelry, ‘Whatever you like most hun, just take it.’

I feel like she would actually really enjoy something creative, the messier the better.

Like finding a big open space, lowering the lights, laying down a big canvas, cracking open a bottle, and getting busy with some paints.

No brushes, just hands (or other body parts if you like).

Rowena

Gracing you with her presence is gift enough.

If anything, you should be bringing her a gift. Jewelry is always best, but she will settle for roses or red wine.

Rowena knows her worth, and if you don’t, then don’t waste her time.

She deserves nothing less than to be wined and dined somewhere very nice.

Followed by a show. The ballet or the opera.

Just imagine, the both of you dressed to the nines. Holding hands over the table, good food and drink, Rowena sharing stories from her time on earth.

Coffee or dessert? Both. Please and thank you.

Ruby

Would bring you candy, but you have to share.

Also a big foodie, but more eating, less cooking.

Like a street food market, or a boardwalk.

You can compete on the water guns and ring toss games to win each other prizes.

She’s only letting you win if there is something in it for her. – Particularly a prize that she wants.

Regardless of who wins what, you’re gonna be the one carrying everything.

Then stop at every food stand on the way.

Bonus points for somewhere that has proper french fries in large portions.

Afterwards, you can chat at the end of the peer, and/or make out under it. 

[theclaravoyant]

bucktommy + 29 kiss on the back of the hand

AN ~ (from this prompt list) this idea started as cute regency ball flirty vibes but then the spirit of Tucker compelled me and it was replaced by Crying About Animals In the Sky and I'm sorry . hurt/comfort . it's cute i swear

-

The number one rule of any aircraft, Buck has learnt, is that you don't distract the pilot during critical flight times, like taking off. Yes, even if that pilot is your boyfriend and you're on a date and he's just argued you out of bringing the champagne because he's being responsible and it's never been so thrilling to call yourself a law abiding citizen.

He tries watching Tommy work the controls instead, but even that is a little bit too fascinating: there are so many buttons and switches and stuff in here, it must have taken him a lifetime to learn what they all do, but he moves with ease like it's no different to riding a bike. All Buck wants to do the whole time is ask, and what does this do, and what does this do, and what does this do. So he searches for something else to look at instead, and his eyes fall onto a photograph tucked between dials on the dash.

It's not a particularly good photo; the camera that took it is probably twenty years old by now, and the sun glare in it is atrocious, but Buck makes out that the person taking up about half the image is a younger, rugged-looking Tommy. He looks to be wearing maybe fatigues? Something khaki, with a chain from dog tags disappearing out of frame around his neck. He's got one arm slung around an equally rugged-looking, not nearly as young German Shepherd, who looks to be smiling at his master or maybe about to give him a big old kiss on that dusty face.

The tone in his earpiece changes, then, indicating the communications line has opened back up so he asks;

“Is he yours?”

“Ha, I wish,” Tommy says. “She belongs to the Harrison Airfield. But she's one of my favourites to hire on my off time. Flies like a dream.”

Buck frowns, and then realises Tommy's eyes are still on the skyline.

“No, I mean-” He holds up the picture, waving it in Tommy's periphery. The man does a momentary double take.

“Oh.” His voice gets tight. His eyes move back to the horizon and stay there.

There's a lot we don't know about each other, Buck recalls.

“That's Tucker,” Tommy says, after a moment. “He was an EDD over in Iraq serving with a friend of mine. Retired same time I did, but Bailey stayed on so she asked me to take him. Got me through a lot, that dog. Osteosarcoma got him in the end. I scattered his ashes at Big Bear – me and Bailey fly out every year to say hi. That must have been when I left the picture. Sorry, I- I wasn't expecting that to be there.”

“I'm sorry,” Buck offers. “Sounds like a good boy.”

“Yeah. He was.”

Buck wishes they weren't in a helicopter right now, so that he could pull Tommy in for the bear hug to end all bear hugs. But they are, and he can't, so instead he bumps his shoulder against Tommy's and the man relinquishes one of his arms. Buck takes his time; intertwines their fingers slowly, and lifts Tommy's hand up to his lips for a gentle kiss. He holds on for a long time after that, admiring the scenery and honouring the memory in the silence gifted to them by vast blue skies and craggy mountain forests. Buck resolves to get out of the city more. He's not gone for a decent hike in so long. Maybe there's just something special about sailing over it all like a hawk, but it feels like he's forgotten what beauty lies beyond the vim and vigour of the concrete jungle.

“I can see why you like it up here,” he says. “Everything kind of falls away. It's beautiful. Reminds me of horse riding, now that I think about it.”

“You ride?” Tommy asks.

“Oh, no, not for years. But I used to be a ranch-hand, back in the day before I joined the 118.”

“I thought you used to be a bartender?”

Buck laughs. “Yeah, I used to do a lot of things. Feels like I had the world's longest gap year.”

“Tell me about it,” Tommy offers.

So he does.

[underthecrazy20]

Always with you ~ Yang Jungwon

Genre: Vampire!au, Soulmate!au, fluff, angst.

Warnings: Asylum esk themes, blood and some horror esk moments.

W/c: 4k

A/n: None of the actions/personalities portray any of Enhypen in real life. It's just for entertainment purposes.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You sat in the window seat of your room in the orphanage, reading a book on animals of all kinds. The stuffed animals were perched along the ledge as well as on your rocking chair and the bed. They were the selected few the orphanage caretakers provided to keep you entertained, even though you were 'almost' eighteen, you wanted to keep them with you. A wardrobe stood up on the north wall–the same as the bed–at the foot of the bed frame. In the corner your body faced, was a cabinet with drawers and a few unimportant dusty objects that were on top. A simple faded green circle rug sat in the middle of the wooden floor with books of all kinds laid out open to the crisp air. Your plain light blue dress was spread out around your legs keeping your pale skin covered, and your waist long hair was pinned back nicely in its normal half up half down style you were always instructed to wear. 

     A gentle breeze came over you through the crack of the opened glass pane window, causing you to look down at the big front yard. Other kids played with outdoor games or dolls in the grass under the great oak trees; but you stayed inside in your personal assigned room for two reasons: one, the kids were frightened of the cold behavior you possessed around them and two, you were a vampire and was afraid they would be suspicious of how you did not behave like them. But you, out of everyone who stayed in the orphanage, only knew of your dark secret and had been determined to keep it that way. The sun was blocked behind the gloomy sky in the afternoon sky as the day went on; today was the day that no one had to go to the medical room for a check up. 

     The rain stopped thirty minutes ago, allowing the kids to play outside. Most kids that arrived here were sick and went under special treatments. But rumor has it that the treatments didn't turn into anything else but death. The caretakers favored treating you because of your dead like appearance and no matter what they put into you it would never make a difference. Of course you knew exactly why and the caretakers were slowly beginning to exploit what you were with each test. Something they injected into your neck did weaken you for a few minutes and made you lethargic which you did not like. But because you were a vampire you came back to your senses quickly and the caretakers would act as if nothing happened and that you were healthy.  Not really fitting in and being the weird freak out of the bunch of kids that come and go here was beginning to feel stressful without anyone to relate to in this place. 

Your abilities are to speak with any type of animal as well as take control of their mind and body. You tried your best to hide your gift as it previously caused trouble and damage to you back at the old orphanage you stayed at.

~Back at the previous orphanage~ 

     Outside near the kitchen side of the building, hidden in the forest trees, you hunted for your next meal. All the other kids could eat freely with each other, while you took your food that the kitchen maids prepared for you to the woods where you could properly dispose of it and eat your kind of food. When you had gotten a rabbit to eat, one of the newcomers that arrived two days ago took interest in you and secretly followed you into the forest without you knowing. He didn’t find anything suspicious until you turned around freezing in place.  Finding him standing a few feet behind you brought panic into your mind. Jungwon, who was also a vampire, was not surprised or scared like you had thought he would be. He only told you to be careful of how you hunted and then left without another word. But you ignored his warning and continued to live the way you wanted, Jungwon being with you every step you dared to take.

   >>>

     The forest was beginning to become dusk as you walked back to the orphanage after drinking your third animal that day. As you stepped over a fallen log, a sudden twig snapped behind you. Pausing, you stayed still using your hearing to detect anyone around. After a few seconds of waiting, you heard nothing happening, so you continued to walk on. But not even taking two steps forward, a hand catches your wrist turning you around mid-step. You were then standing face to face with Jungwon. He was holding his index finger up to his lips to tell you to be quiet. Your defense cleared your mind once you figured out it was him who grabbed you. 

"What are you doing out here at this hour?!" he whisper-shouted. You huffed pulling away from his strong grip. 

"Eating," you replied, with a shrug. He sighed in frustration, glancing at the forest cautiously. 

"If you don’t be careful someone will notice," he warned you. You rolled your eyes and began to walk again in the direction of the orphanage. 

"I will be fine, you worry too much Wonnie," you teased him. He caught up with you and grabbed your hand. 

"I worry because I care about you," he explained, sternly. “Do you remember what I told you that day by the pond?” Jungwon asked you. You sighed, turning to face him.

“We will protect each other for eternity,” you recited to him. He nodded, bringing his hand up to brush your hair behind your ear.

“I meant it, I want you to be safe, okay?” he spoke gently.

You smiled with a short nod and gave him a sweet kiss on his lips. Then continued to walk with him to the edge of the forest where you both could see the big stone house. You both walked up the side of the building rounding the corner to the front door. Reaching the great double doors, he stopped you from continuing into the orphanage.

"I love you, you know that right?" he asked in a whisper. So that any prying ears didn’t hear.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, giving his hand a squeeze.

     Jungwon and you connected immediately after your first encounter, it did take a few days to talk to each other after the incident in the forest, but you two were inseparable after that. You both did everything together in secret to avoid suspicion. Jungwon was caring, protective, and loyal to you. He was your best friend and soulmate, the very strong bond was growing the more you two were around each other. It would be unbreakable soon enough.

     Unfortunately the bond went to ruins in a matter of hours, the next morning very early when the days began to stay dark longer. You were in the upstairs living room reading a book by the fireplace using the light to see the words on the pages. Some footsteps brought you out of the world of ink. Before you could process any action, you were grabbed by two males that were much bigger than you, they pulled you up and dragged you down the stairs. You did not dare to make a sound as the other kids were fast asleep. The men took you outside down the dirt path to the front of the gate to a wagon that was parked close to the road. 

     The dawn was still far from peeking over the horizon, the only light was the lanterns on the wagon. All the while in the distance stood the headmistress who watched you be taken away with relief. The wood scraped your back at the force they used to hall you up into the wagon. Taking one last glance at the house, fear and pain filled your heart as you realized Jungwon didn’t know you were being taken. He would be so worried and heartbroken. You can’t just leave him.

“Jungwon!!” you suddenly shouted out, startling the men in the wagon. They quickly silenced you before you could call once more. As the world around you went dark and the sound and movement of the wagon began to drive away from the orphanage leaving your heart clenched in pain. Your bond ached for the presence of your soulmate.

     In the later morning, Jungwon made his way through the whole house trying to find you, the confusion and fear blocking his mind was making him dizzy. As he entered the family room, he noticed a book turned over on the floor next to the fireplace. He came up to the book and picked it up, finding that it was the same one you had been reading. 

“They took her early this morning,” a soft voice spoke behind him. Jungwon looked over his shoulder seeing a boy with black hair and pale skin around his age standing in the doorway holding a teddy bear. His name was Sunoo.

“Who took her?” he asked, he could feel his own eyes turn at the thought of someone hurting you. Sunoo shrugged.

“Someone, who doesn’t like vampires,” he responded. Jungwon stood up rushing up to him, getting up in his face.

“What makes you think there are vampires here?” he questioned as if it was a threat. Sunoo let out a giggle. 

“You're not the only vampire who lives in this building,” he whispered. Jungwon backed away in shock. What? He is a vampire too? How is that possible? Just then another guy much taller than Jungwon and Sunno came in. His name was Heeseung, Jungwon remembered.

“Sunoo, leave him be,” he ordered. “The others are waiting,” Was he also a vampire? 

“I'll be around if you need our help.” without another word Sunoo left the room. Jungwon sighed looking at the open window. 

“I will find you," he vowed, speaking aloud as if you could hear him. 

~Back to present orphanage~

     You had not seen Jungwon since that early spring morning, leaving you to fall into a depressive state, everyday the pain in your heart grew as the days dragged on without Jungwon. But about two weeks ago, it was going to be your three year anniversary of your stay at this orphanage. One partly cloudy afternoon, you were outside when a hummingbird flew down to your figure, who was placed in the middle of the garden, squatting down to the plants picking the required daily rations of herbs for the kitchen. At first you were not interested and irritated with its presence, but after a few tries to grab your attention, you finally looked up at the bird sitting on the little wooden label stuck in the ground. You had found a little skinny white ribbon in its beak. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you gently took the string and plucked a basil leaf tying the ribbon around it then gave it back to the hummingbird. Sending it back where it traveled from. 

     Another week went by, around eight o’clock in the morning the same hummingbird came back this time to your window with a little note tied to its foot. You rushed to the window, opening it letting him come in. Once you retrieved the note it said, 'Wait for me.' Jungwon. You sat all day long with butterflies in your stomach trying to understand the message. A call from outside by the headmistress broke your train of memories. The boys and girls got called inside for afternoon tea and snacks making you mentally cringe. As for you, the thought of food other than blood did not peak your interest. Speaking of snacks, it was almost pre-feeding time, which was only one hour. 

     Closing the book on your knees, you began to stand up when a sudden movement came from outside of the window down in the trees. You looked to the distant trees near the edge of the forest immediately spotting a tall male around your age leaning against a tall tree. He was looking right at you with curious eyes, he had chestnut brown hair and his clothes were a different style then the boys who stayed here. His eyes were like a doe's and he also had a soft handsome face and seemed to be fairly tall. Your eyes remained on him until a few kids came back outside to collect their toys distracting you for a second. When you looked back at the male he had vanished. Humming in confusion, you shrugged it off walking away from the window.

     Right around supper time, you finally needed to eat. Placing the last book back onto the shelf, you straightened up moving to the closed door reaching out to the door handle. When you opened the door however two female caretakers stood at the door blocking the way out. Their faces looked soft and friendly.

“The headmistress wants to see you, come with us,” the first one informed you. Feeling nervous and uncertain, you nodded slowly and followed them down to the left of the hall, but instead of moving more to the left to go downstairs to the office, they moved to the right. So you continued to walk past the entertainment room then down another hall reaching the end of it to the last door on the right. A feeling of dread came to your mind as the door opened and your body began to retreat from it. The second female caretaker caught your arm before you could rush back to your room. Quickly, she silenced you by covering your mouth with her hand, she then had help from the first caretaker and together they dragged you down the wooden flight of stairs down into the basement. The treatments were held down here, only, it was not a new month, so your treatment was already completed. 

     Fear clouded your mind as the stairs became more and more less, you did not know why you were being brought down here, but you did not like it.

“Please, my treatment is already complete! Why am I down here?” you asked as you fought their grip. Of course you got no answer. As your feet touched the cold damp stone floor, a male caretaker met the three of you at the end of the steps to help control your erratic behavior.   Fighting the attempt to use your full strength, the door to the hallway leading to the room was in view now. Unfortunately, it was not an examination hall, no, it was an experiment hall with the metal chairs in the center of the room. The dimly lit hallway showed the headmistress of the orphanage standing with her arms folded neatly in front of her. A fierce look of determination and disgust plastered on her pug like face. 

"Why am I going to the experiment chairs?" you frantically questioned her. She smiled reassuringly, which you saw right through. 

"Just a few extra tests we need to do," she simply replied. You panicked by stuttering out noises  of confusion. She gave a blank expression before giving a small nod to the door to her right. Without another moment to spare, the male caretaker began to drag you to the hallway. 

"No! Please! Call it off?!" you cried out. "I don't want to be tested!!" No one listened. You tried to break free without using your vampire strength, but it didn't work as well as you wanted. The door opened and the hallway came into sight. Your body was forced forward; there were small windows above the doors on both sides lining the hall, the sun was beginning to set giving the atmosphere an orange hue. 

     A door, five rooms down from the main door, opened and a few female nurses surrounded the small box-like room working on setting up medical equipment. In the center a chair with leather straps was standing. Something in you snapped as soon as your eyes came in contact with the metal chair, shoving your arm hard to the right, you sent the male to your right into the wall making it cave in slightly. A different male to your left immediately grabbed your free arm only to struggle shortly after to keep his hold on you. Before any more damage could happen from you, a sharp sting came from the nape of your neck. You screamed in pain, then reaching back to your neck gripping the object, you pulled it around to your eyes, it was a syringe with a blue residue left in the tube. No! Slowly you began to lose control of your surroundings, slumping to the floor as your vision faded into darkness. 

***

     You woke up in a forest full of trees, it was dull and misty outside around early morning. The birds sang sweetly in the trees and life in the forest was starting to wake up. Looking around the surrounding area, you noticed someone standing off in the distance. Walking closer, the person was wearing a gray blue sweater that had a hood, it was a strange style and looked from a different century. He seemed to have been looking around like he was lost until his eyes fell upon you. It was Jungwon. You felt as if your heart jumped to your throat, he was standing in front of you. Dashing a few feet ahead to close the distance between you both to touch him; a sudden invisible glass like wall trapped you from going any farther. You screamed out his name but he couldn't hear your cries. 

   Then the scene changed to a warm homey living room you had never seen before, but it wasn't the one that looked like a home, more like a boarding house. There were seven boys entertaining one another with a piano or dancing while some of them sat on a sofa laughing. A certain boy in the corner caught your eye immediately, it was Jungwon again. He was also watching the others play before his gaze turned straight to you. A smirk came along his face as he tilted his head to the side slightly, giving you a peek of his fangs. Found you.

***

     Jerking awake on the experiment chair, your body felt like led, it was only limited by the leather straps buckled down along your fatigued figure. The room was dark except for the small spotlight above you; to the right in the faint light was the door and a rolling table that had surgery tools displayed. Your senses heightened when your nose smelled something intensely sweet. Your mouth started to feel dry and tight, glancing to the table next to you was a bowl that held a deep crimson red liquid. Blood. But it smelled different, it was much more sweet then the blood you normally consumed. It was human blood.

     One nurse was present in the room, but she was busy taking notes at the desk in the nearby corner to notice you wake up. With a powerful pull you tried to break free from the buckles, but to no avail nothing helped. Your voice could not bring aid either, you were stuck until the other nurses would come finish the work of the test, now that you were awake. But the blue liquid would soon wear off and you could officially escape this place you once called home. Your baby blue dress is replaced with a plain white dress as well as your nicely pinned hair was now down in a tangled mess from threshing around.

“Oh good, you are awake,” the nurse said, standing up.

     A few minutes passed of sitting in the chair, the nurse finished not long ago attaching strange wires and needles in your arms. But you could slowly feel your strength come back to you each second that went by. Suddenly, the faint smell of smoke and fresh blood filled your nose. You sharply turned your head to the door. What was happening? Just then you could hear loud breathing and footsteps coming from upstairs. Then the word fire was shouted out faintly.  Looking at the nurse at the desk, she finally stood up after hearing a female cry out from down the hall behind the closed door. She opened the door glancing both ways down the hall before her gaze fixed to the left. The look of fear and terror came upon her face, she then quickly shut the door locking it, after it was secured, she came over to the table of tools grabbing a surgeon knife as a weapon. Your eyes stayed fixed on the door curious as to what was out there in the hall.  You heard slow stocking footsteps echo in the long hallway, before it stopped in front of the door. It was quiet, except for the shaking breath of the nurse who was cowardly hiding behind your chair. Your eyes watched the door’s movement carefully.  

     The lock on the door slowly unlocked itself before it creaked open wide. In dim lighting from the lights in the hall, a figure stood tall, it was a boy with blonde hair. He didn't look but fifteen years of age and held a playful smirk. His eyes were the only thing holding your attention at the moment. They were the color red. Blood red. His peering eyes gazed around the room landing on you and then behind you. As he stepped in the nurse screamed bloody murder and moved closer to the wall. 

"Who are you?!" she squeaked. The boy stocked into the room keeping silent as he made his way to her. She dodged him and ran to the door only to be blocked by his frame in a blink of an eye. Superspeed. He then broke her leg and caught her as she fell to the floor and dragged her out into the hall. You sit frozen as you hear her cries fade into nothing, the smoke is getting worse and you could hear the orphanage breaking above from the fire. Not even a second after the nurse was dragged out a different person appeared in the door frame. He was shorter than the boy you previously saw, he had brown hair and puppy-like eyes. Glancing down the room he spotted you, he looked to his right and motioned his hand in this direction. Was he going to hurt you? Are there more vampires? A sudden strong pull grew in your chest taking your breath away. It couldn’t be. The boy moved out of the doorway letting in another person you didn't expect to see. Jungwon took his friend’s place in the doorway looking in. When he saw you, he didn't spare a second coming straight to you. 

"Good job Jake!" he praised his friend. 

"Jungwon?!" you exclaimed in shock. He gave a small smile, but then frowned at the wires and needles in you. His eyes turned red in anger, he began to take them off. Then he grabs the leather straps, breaking them off your body. As soon as you were free, you threw your arms around him holding tight feeling the ache of the bond heal.

"I'm here," his gentle voice said, returning the hug. He didn't change in personality, but his voice was more mature and smooth since the last time you saw him. He pulled away cupping the side of your face to look at you.

"I can’t believe it’s you, I missed you," you whispered, admiring his face. Even after years of not seeing him you faintly remembered his facial features that strongly return to your memories all at once. 

"I missed you too," he said, kissing your knuckles. 

     Just then the surrounding of the building began to crack and crumble under you guys. Slipping out of the chair, your legs gave out under you from being in the chair without movement for too long. Jungwon then picked you up without a thought and transported you to the outside. When the cool fresh air hits you, you breathe in relaxation, the grass under your feet feels soft as Jungwon sets you down. He did however keep his arm around you to make you stable while you two watched the building go up in flames. 

     Soon six boys came out from the forest in a rush. You realized they were from that fever dream you had not twenty minutes ago. Jungwon's arms wrapped tighter around your frame. Resting his forehead against your temple in relief as your gaze continued to watch the fire consume. 

"You're free now," he whispered. The realization came upon you and your body slumped into his body, your eyes closing in the process. He was right, you were free. 

Two hundred years later, your steps were light as you made your way to the table where the members talked with one another. The business room was completely dark, the only light that was present was the city lights of New York outside. Your long black sleeve pencil dress sparkled in the light making you look like a diamond. You came around the table carrying your glass of red liquid, you gave Jay and Heeseung a smile as you passed them and then slipped in between Ni-ki and Jungwon. Ni-ki playful bumped your arm in acknowledgement, you smirked and repeated the same action to him. Jungwon noticed your presence after his conversation with Jake ended. His arm came around your waist hugging your frame close to his. You wouldn’t have changed meeting him in the forest that day, because as fate would have it, he would be in return your soulmate in eternity. 

“You look beautiful my love,” he complemented. You grinned at his words.

“Thank you Wonnie,” you responded. He smiled, slightly shaking his head at his nickname, looking back at the live city.

“Are you ready for a new beginning?” he asked in a whisper. You locked eye contact with him before leaning in, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. Hearing the countdown of the New York ball drop.  

“Always with you,” you replied in the same tone. Jungwon smiled, hugging you close if that was possible, allowing you to lean into his side. Then you and the boys raised your glasses to the new year of the 2000’s ready for a new beginning to happen.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[starsofang]

Southern Nights

kyle garrick x country!reader

tw: fluff that developed into brief smut. idk how that happened tbh. don’t look at me.

Kyle Garrick was many things, but picky was not one of them.

With food? Maybe a bit, but with women? He’d be absolutely mad to stick to a specific type of woman.

He’d been with them all — thin, chubby, short, tall, pale, tanned. Some were flings, some were girlfriends, and some were just mindless flirtations on drunken nights when he’d seek refuge in a shitty bar after months of grueling missions.

Kyle couldn’t exactly say he’d been with a southern girl, though. Not until you.

All wit and charm, pearly smiles and the cutest accent that made his sound like choked gurgles.

He didn’t know how he landed you. He must’ve done a hell of a lot in his past life to even gain the pleasure of calling you his, because the way you looked at him with that sparkle in your eye made him appear like he was God himself gazing down at you from the clouds.

Kyle knew close to nothing about the south. Fuck, he was british, could you blame him? How did a bloke like him end up with a southern belle like you?

Sure, Kyle had worked for the CIA before turning to John Price and vowing his loyalty to him. Even so, it seemed improbable of him to fall for a woman that accentuated her words with a lick of country charm, who wore sturdy boots on her feet that thumped along the pavement every time you walked beside him, hand in hand.

Despite it being near sinful for you two to pair together, it worked to perfection.

You taught him everything there was to know about your side of the road. He didn’t realize there was so much that went into being a pretty, little bird, but he was fully willing to learn so he could take mental notes of every piece of information that made you, you.

On late night drives when the two of you wanted to clear your headspace while also remaining in each other’s presence, you’d show him your collection of songs. He didn’t know any of them, nor had he taken the chance to listen to the arrangements of fiddles and guitars that poured through the speakers.

Somebody named Chris Stapleton was a repetitive appearance, and he didn’t have a clue who that was.

But the smile on your face as you sang along to the lyrics with your eyes on him while his remained on the road was enough to have him bob his head along and mirror your smile, giving your hand an affectionate squeeze from where he held it on the center console.

Bars were certainly different, too. They were more rundown and rugged than the ones he was used to, and it wasn’t a crowd of young people who were there to fuck and party.

No, it was a mixed crowd of all kinds of beings, sharing laughter with friends and enjoying shots of whiskey and a concerning amount of piss beer.

The music wasn’t upbeat and erratic and instead, filled the bar with a lovely atmosphere that made you want to saddle up with your lady and enjoy the blessing of her existence rather than fuel a desire to grind against one another.

The change of pace was something he hadn’t realized he needed. It was comforting, even more so with you under his arm, talking wildly about past experiences at that specific bar with old high school friends.

He thought you were beautiful like this, your words slurring together in your own form of accented youth, specific words slipping off your tongue in a way that gave him the subtle reminder of your roots.

Kyle had yet to know about customs, and when you pulled the cowboy hat you had graciously gifted him (he personally didn’t think it suited him, but he’d never shy away from your presents) and planted it on your head, he gave you a curious raise of his eyebrow.

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy,” you teased, and when his mouth gaped open in confusion, your sweet laughter filtered through his ears. “You’re the cowboy, Kyle.”

It took him an embarrassingly long five seconds before realization dawned on him. You giggled some more, eyes crinkled into dusty, starlit crescents, and he had to swallow down the rest of his drink to hide his lingering sheepishness.

And when he took you back to his your place, seeing as you practically moved in by now, he didn’t hesitate to ravish you in ways that had that southern drawl drip off your tongue like honeyed nectar he couldn’t get enough of.

Even as you clambered on top of him after he’d spent the last twenty minutes tugging pretty, little moans from your soft lips with his tongue between your thighs, where he’d worshiped you like the sky goddess you were, you made sure to keep the gifted cowboy hat perched on your head.

The hat wiggled with instability on every bounce of your hips, threatening to fall off with every thrust Kyle uprooted to meet yours.

Your baby hairs slicked with sweat against your forehead, right where the brim of the hat met, and by god, Kyle thought he was looking at the loveliest bird he’d ever seen.

“My pretty dove,” Kyle cooed breathlessly, fingers dipping into the fat of your hips as he guided every motion back up, then down, until you were slammed against the plains of his pelvis with every push and pull. “Look so beautiful wearin’ my hat, don’t you?”

You moaned his name with broken fervor, and the sound of it sent shivers down his spine.

“Keep talkin’, birdie. Y’know I love your voice, sounds so pretty like that.”

His words opened the floodgates for your mindless babbling, accent heavier than ever as it laced over with need and desperation.

Kyle was in pure heaven when each and every accented word fell from those pretty lips. They pricked his skin with want, fueling the warmth building in the pits of his abdomen.

Your body glistened with a gorgeous sheen as it continued to bounce and wiggle on top of him, chest rising and falling in erratic attempts to gather air as each thrust knocked it out of you.

The hat laid a bit crooked, but stayed true to its temporary owner, branding you as his from where it loyally stayed atop your head.

When you finally gave in to the tight coil in your core and exploded into a mess of warm, fuzzy pleasure, Kyle took in the sight and engraved it under his eyelids as he couldn’t hold back from finishing inside you.

After Kyle had you successfully spent, body floating on a soft cloud of his blankets and pillows, his hat halfway off your head from where your face pressed into the mattress and sleepy snores left your lips, he basked in the sight of you.

Kyle didn’t have a type before. He’d gone through nearly every course of women before you came along, but now, as he brushed away the stray hairs from the softness of your face, he thought maybe he had a thing for country girls.

Only if they were you, though.

i’m a y’allternative girl from the south who lives in fields of cows so the fact i haven’t written this sooner is surprising but lord have mercy, i’m happy i did because kyle is so 🤌🏻 this was meant to be sweet and fluffy but i got ahead of myself and ending up making us fuck him instead but hey who’s complaining? not me

[ckret2]

👀 I want to hear more about this Bill AU

You were the very first person to send me an ask about the Bill AU, and it was an open-ended question, so I've been saving your ask special for... a fanfic. IDK how often or how much I'm gonna write actual full fic for this AU but for now, here: the first half of Bill's reunion with the Pines family. (Attempted murder included.)

(Edited 7/28/2024 - now compatible with TBOB!)

####

February 25, 2013

The vengeful demon standing in the door of the Mystery Shack possessed only four items in the universe:

Two safety pins.

A time tape tied around his waist like a belt.

And a tunic he'd fashioned himself in the style of an ancient Greek Doric chiton, folded and pinned so perfectly that the wearer must have seen them thousands of years ago when they were at the height of fashion.

Soos couldn't identify an authentic Doric chiton. All he knew was that the tourist who'd just come in looked like a short fat lady with brown skin, curly golden hair, weirdly skinny arms, bulging jaundiced eyes, and a toga made out of a bright purple children's Pony Heist bedsheet.

Soos laughed, flashing the tourist a double thumbs up. "Hey! Awesome toga. That should really be like a thing. Imagine if we all wore togas. We could just wake up, roll our bedsheets around us like a burrito, and go out!"

"Watch out, you can't tell when Big Fashion is listening in." 

"Haha. Who?"

The tourist hadn't looked at Soos once; instead, her gaze was darting around the shop restlessly.

"Are you shopping for something specific?" Soos asked with his best customer service voice. "Post cards? Snow globes? Weird taxidermy thingamajigs? Pants?"

"Where are the Pines?" the tourist asked, casting a sharp look at the "employees only" door, then the vending machine.

"Oh, Mr. Pines! The original Mr. Mystery! Heh—he actually retired a few months ago. The Mystery Shack's under new management!" Soos planted his fists on his hips and puffed up his chest. "It's me, I'm the new management."

"But where are they?" the tourist pressed.

"Uhh, he and his bro are somewhere in South America, I think? Hey, if you wanna meet him in person, his last letter said he might visit for spring break if the family can make it. First week in April."

"First week in April," the tourist muttered. She glanced over her shoulder toward the door, thoughtfully fiddling with the time tape wrapped around her waist.

"Oh, dude! I've tried to use a tape measure as a belt too! Haha! It worked great, until I bumped the button and it retracted. Yeesh. Hey, do you want a fur belt? We sell fur belts now." Soos turned away, rummaging through the new display next to the t-shirts. "They're all sustainably, ethically harvested! I bought a bunch of old rugs from the Northwest Manor to slice up."

Soos grabbed up a fuzzy pink belt. "Check it, I think this is unicorn hide or something. Bet it'd go so good with that Pony Heist toga..."

The tourist had seemingly vanished in thin air. Soos looked around. "Huh." He shrugged and stuck the belt on a shelf beneath the cash register in case she came back and decided she wanted it later.

Once all the other visitors had left for the day, and Soos was left alone to clean up, he thought back to that togaed tourist whose yellowish eyes had never stopped moving—the way she'd looked toward the door as though worried someone was following her. Soos glanced around the shop nervously. "Is anyone there?" He lifted his broom like a samurai sword. "Hello? Big Fashion?"

Nothing answered. He shrugged and kept sweeping.

###

April 1, 2013

A vengeful demon who possessed nothing but two safety pins, a time tape belt, and a purple Pony Heist bedsheet chiton stood in the center of the Mystery Shack gift shop.

Which was weird, because Soos didn't hear the door and she totally hadn't been standing there a moment ago.

"Oh hey! Toga Lady!" Soos turned to Wendy, who was picking up a few bucks working spring break while Melody visited her family. "It's Toga Lady. She came in like a month ago. The toga's cool, right? I think it's cool."

Wendy glanced up, choked back a laugh, and scrambled to grab her phone for a picture.

"So, where are the Pines?" Toga Lady asked, with an edge of impatience.

"Oh, dude, did you come all the way back here to meet them? Sorry, the Mr. Pineses couldn't make it. They couldn't get a flight out of Atlanta." Soos stopped, frowned, and pulled a water-stained letter from his pocket to double check. "Sorry, Atlantis. Something about a giant lobster attack?"

"Daryll would pick now to invade," Toga Lady muttered. "I suppose the children aren't here."

How did she know about the children? Maybe she'd visited last summer and remembered them? Like, early summer, before Pony Heist came out. Soos would have remembered the toga. "Naw, heh. They went to Roswell."

"Oh, cool," Wendy said distractedly, busy texting a picture of Toga Lady to everyone she knew. "Checking out the competition."

"Yeah, Dipper's sending me like a billion pictures of the alien museum."

"Well," Toga Lady said impatiently, "when are they showing up?"

Soos was beginning to get the impression that Toga Lady was less an admiring fan, and more one of those customers. The kind that used speaking to the manager as a threat. All the same, he said, "June first, for sure. That's when the kids get here for summer break so the Mr. Pineses are coming too. Definitely. Promise."

She rolled her eyes—one of them twitched, like she'd gotten something in it and was struggling to keep it open—but said, "All right, fine! June. What's the difference? I've waited this long." She leaned next to the door by the snow globe shelves, fiddling with her belt, as if she was settling in to wait right there for the next two months.

Soos frowned—she might drive off tourists, blocking the door like that—but said, "Oh! While you're here, I thought you might be interested in this belt." He reached past Wendy to grab it from beneath the cash register. "I didn't get a chance to show you last time before—"

He looked toward the door. She was gone. "Huh. Did you see Toga Lady leave?"

Wendy shrugged. "Wasn't looking."

"Huh." Soos replaced the belt. At least he knew when he'd see her next.

###

June 1, 2013

"What's with the belt?" Stan asked.

"Oh! It's for a regular." Soos pointed with both hands at the fuzzy pink belt peeking beneath his suit jacket. "I think she's comin' today. She wanted to meet the original Mr. Mystery."

"Hey, an admirer." Stan's chest puffed out and his grin widened. "Is she cute?"

"Uh... if you like bedsheet togas?"

"Ooh, a party girl."

"These are new," Ford said, inspecting a jar with an alien fetus floating in green goo.

"Oh, yeah!" Soos said, following as Stan joined Ford at the glass display case. "Dipper sent me like, a billion keychains of these little alien guys from Roswell. So I started filling Abuelita's empty spice jars with aliens and green jello. Cool, huh? It looks like we stole them from a secret government lab or something."

Stan laughed, slinging an arm around Soos. "Listen to this! Brilliant! I knew I put the right guy in charge."

Soos grinned goofily. "Aw, gee, Mr. Pines..."

A flash of purple caught the corner of his eye. Toga Lady was leaning next to the door by the snow globe shelves, fiddling with her belt.

Here was a chance to show off his great business instincts with Stan watching. Time to make a sale. "Oh, hey, Toga Lady! I didn't hear you come in! Still rockin' Pony Heist, huh? Hey, I've been trying to show you this belt I think you'll like..."

But she wasn't listening to him. Her gaze was fixed on the Pines twins' backs. As Soos watched, her expression darkened, and her grin widened.

The vengeful demon reached past the snow globes, seized a heavy "mysterious green crystal cluster ($250)" made of glue and broken glass, and heaved it up over his head. "Hey, Sixer!" Face contorted in a snarl of a smile, he turned the cluster over, sharp shards pointing downward. "Welcome home!"

Bill Cipher swung the glass weight down toward Ford's head.

(If you wanna keep reading, all chapters are on tumblr right here!)

[blackcat419]

How different cultures in ASOIAF view cats pt. 1

In our world, culture and religion shape how we view animals, and for this post, specifically cats. An example of how cats a view differently in cultures can be seen in Islamic cultures and Romani Cultures. Because cats clean themselves often, they are viewed as clean by Muslims and can be kept with the family. But for Romani, because of the Marime which states that the genital region is a source of impurity, a cat licking its own lower regions this becomes unclean. Roma still keep pets but they generally don’t let them sleep in their bed or lick them. This is all contrasted by American culture where a pet is viewed as a member of the family and will be referred to as the baby or child of their owners and is allowed to sleep in bed with them.

It’s so interesting and I want to expand this to how Westerosi people see cats and what types of cats they keep.

Dorne

Dorne takes a lot of inspiration from the Arabic would and I think it only makes sense for them to have a similar view of cats.

Cats keeping themselves clean makes them the perfect pets for humans. Cats are also known to pray to the seven if given a seat in a sept (cats love prayer rugs and it’s really cute). Both religious and hygienic, cats are viewed as more sophisticated than other animals and thus are kept closer by their families.

The salty Dornish are best known for their love of cats with many ancient breeds residing in their homes. The green orphans will sail with a cat or two and give them a fish from the days haul. Cats are also seen as omens of good fortune and many shops have a resident cat. Septa also keep cats control pests and because they will sleep at the feet of the seven when their statue is warm. The Turkish Van and Turkish Angora are both old and rare breeds of cats that would flourish in Dorne.

The Sandy Dornish also enjoy cats. Because cats naturally retain more water than dogs, they are fitted to live in the desert. These cats are some of the more wild ones as it’s common for the domestic cat to mix is wild cats. During harsh sandstorms, the Dornish will wrap the cats up in a blanket to protect them from the elements. Cats are known to love this and scene request it when their is no sand storm. The Savannah cat is a cross between wild Serval and a domestic short hair cat.

The stony Dornish are less attached to cats than the Sandy or salty Dornish. Every house hold does have a cat and it’s common for cats to sleep in the room of their favorite person, but the stony Dornish believe that cats have some impurity to them because they lick their own genitals. Families will often perform a cleaning ritual on their cats by wiping them down with a wet cloth to cleanse them of impurity. Cats in stony Dorne are slender and very angular, making them great at slipping through stony hills and along steep walls. The Cornish Rex and Devon Rex are popular cat breeds.

The Iron Islands

Cats were a big part of Scandinavian culture. The goddess Freya had her chariot pulled by Norwegian Forest cats (also called fairy cats) and it was custom for a groom to give his bride a kitten as a wedding gift. For Vikings specifically, cats were kept to control the pests on ship.

Because the Iron Islands is more based on mythical Viking culture than historical Scandinavian culture, we can have some fun with the cats.

Ships are a big part of the iron islands culture, so each ship should have a cat or two. Perhaps to “bless” a ship before it sets off, a kitten is brought into the ship and makes it their own. I also see the Ironman have a very communal ownership of the cats. Fisherman will give the cats some of their catch as part of a good luck ceremony and people will set up small cat houses for them. They could also view a cat staying with you as a sign of good luck. But because of Thai communal ownership, it would probably be taboo to try and keep a cat to yourself. The iron islanders see a cat as not belonging to a person but to a ship or island.

Types of cats I think the iron islanders would have. Because they’re kind of weird, I think some weird breeds would fit. The Selkirk Rex is known for playing in water, being loyal to their human, and also have some curly fur!

The Andal Kingdoms

The Andals had a similar relationship to cats that Europeans had before the Black Death. For the Andals, cats were viewed as mainly pest control for their farms and cities. People rarely tries to socialize kittens when born which led to people believing cats were naturally aggressive.

It wasn’t until Maesters discovered that cats help prevent the spread of disease by killing rats that cats became a more popular household animal.

The reach was the first kingdom to become very found of the cat. They were perfect help for their farms and perfect pest control for old town. Old Town holds a celebration of cats each year to thank them for preventing extreme disease outbreaks from happening in the city. The Redwyne family is famous for breeding Persians cats that resemble the pugs they breed with short faces. Rich families have a few Persian cats that they dress up as little lords and ladies as an extra show of wealth.

In the storm lands and riverlands, cats are seen as antithetical to the land. The kingdom’s natural wetness drives cats away. Fisherman are often at odds with local cat populations as they fight over fish. Despite the general population’s disinterest in cats, they are a common staple at inns and bars as they keep rats away from the straw and wheat. Patrons consider seeing a cat with folded ears as a lucky charm that their stay at the inn will be a pleasant one.

I reached the max amount of photos for this post so we will continue with westerlands, the vale, north, beyond the wall, and valyrians!

[kimmiessimmies]

Honeycomb Hills Apartments

Malte's home!

I shared a preview yesterday, but here is the full post. And when I say full, I mean "OMFG, Kim did you really have to write another essay?!" Yes. That kind of full. I'm not even sorry.

I was so happy about finishing these apartments that I plunked down three in a row. 😄

Each building has four apartments, all similar: 2 bed, 1,5 bath.

Currently, I only moved one person in: Mister Malte Nerhus, aka Rachel's... I wanna say boyfriend, but then I might be getting ahead of things... crush! Let's say crush!

Malte came to Honeycomb with not a lot of money in his pocket, happy and eager to start working at the university library. When he started looking for a place to live, a two-bedroom apartment wasn't really what he had in mind, (Malte would have been fine in a studio apartment) but it was the only thing available to non-students in Honeycomb Hills and the rent was quite affordable because these apartments are part of an experimental project set up as part of "Greenify Honeycomb Valley": the tenants of the first apartments get a discount on their rent if they fill out regular questionnaires containing questions on how to make the apartment more sustainable and eco-friendly.

So, Malte moved into a two-bedroom apartment, claiming the smaller bedroom as his own and leaving the larger one empty. If they decided to come over, it could potentially sleep his entire family (his mother, grandmother, and two sisters). He spent his money wisely and using the resources available, soon made a home out of this place.

The large windows are Malte's favourite feature of his home. He built sofas out of old mattresses. The Honeycomb campus has two rather large student dorms and whenever a student graduates and moves out of the dorm, the mattress on the bed they used gets replaced for the next resident. Some of those old mattresses are too filthy to even look at, but many are actually still in good shape. Priding itself on being green, the university actually has a website on which they put up old-but-still-good-for-another-round furnishings, free-to-collect. Malte put new, cheap coverings on the mattresses. Easy to take off and wash when needed.

Malte loves cushions and blankets. You find those all around the house. Some were already his, the others were flea-market and thrift store finds, just like all the rugs in his home. Old crates function as a coffee table and makeshift shelves. Of course there's books everywhere. The lamps are wall fixtures that were already in the house, as were the curtains, and the poster on the wall is the cover of one of Malte's favourite books, gifted to him by his colleagues from the library where he works as a housewarming present. The guitar and the laptop are Malte's own possessions and the plants are the one item he actually spent a bit of money on, because plants are a must.

Malte is a creative spirit. Painting, drawing, writing and making music all keep him sane. The painting easel was a thrift store find, and to protect the floors of his rented home, Malte put down a tarp underneath. The easel faces the window, of course. All the artwork on the wall is made by Malte or his sister Solveig. The shelves he built himself from old wood and on the top shelf there's a picture of Malte and his family. A little reminder of home.

The kitchen came with the apartment. The table consists of a couple of boards on two sets of trestles. That was an easy build.

The two folding chairs (there's a third folded against the wall next to the fridge) Malte brought from home and the other two chairs are old discarded university classroom furniture Malte found on the previously mentioned website.

Malte's bike has a place on the wall. It's his main means of transportation. The car in which he took Rachel on their second date wasn't his, a colleague lend it to him.

In the other corner of the room, there's a little workspace. The desk was another university reject and the chair a thrift store find. The paintings are Malte's own work and the pictures show him and his mother and eldest sister.

Here we have three very similar pictures from Malte's bedroom, but I still wanted to use them all xD. Here we find old mattresses again, although the top one is new. Old crates also make great night stands and a bedroom without books isn't a bedroom. The yellow lamp is a thrift store find and the green one a Swedish furniture store one. On Malte's nightstand there's a picture of his mother, grandmother and sisters. The poster above his bed as well as two on the other wall (see next picture) are enlarged prints of Saarqartoq pictures. Rachel had these printed as a gift for Malte because she knows he does miss home sometimes.

Malte doesn't have a wardrobe, but installed a rod against the wall which does the job perfectly.

In the orignal design of the room, the architect intended for people to place a bed below the high window. Malte thought this idea was no good at all. He wanted to wake up with a view! So he went against the design of the room and put his bed against the wall so it faced the tall windows and the green outside. The watermelon bean bag was his latest thrift store gem. It was just too cool to pass by.

And that concludes the tour of Malte's home. There's also a bathroom, which is just a bathroom, and a balcony, which I didn't take any pictures of at this time, but which will show up in a story post, I'm sure.

[applesaucesims]

Louis had got up early on his birthday morning, so he would be able to enjoy as much time of his special day as possible. The only downside was that now he had to think of more things to do, while his parents were busy taking care of his baby sisters, and they were all waiting for the guests to come.

Just as he was trying his best to create a personal record of balancing atop his rocking horse, he heard his mother opening his bedroom door. In seconds, Louis jumped back to sitting on the horse, as if he had been sitting there the whole time. Luckily, it seemed that Emma had not noticed, but it did not matter anyway. As soon as the promise of a gift was mentioned, it was all that the birthday kid could think about.

Emma sat down on the rug in Louis's play corner and pulled out a neatly wrapped gift box from behind her back, placing it in front of her son who excitedly grabbed it.

Of course, Louis had to throw in a reminder that he was promised a trip to the ballet not too long ago, and he was still waiting for that day to come. Surely he was old enough to go now.

So he would not hurt himself on the paper, Emma helped unwrap the gift for her son. With the wrappings pushed aside, and the box inside opened, Louis was greeted by the small statue of a ballet dancer that his mother had bought for him at the theatre.

Carefully, Louis picked up the ballerina, marvelling at the graceful figure. He spun it around in his little hands, making it dance through the air, his eyes shimmering with joy. One thing was clear, Emma had been right in thinking this was the perfect gift for her son.

[TRANSCRIPT]

Louis: "woah-"

Emma: "Louis?"

*quick shuffling and rattling noises*

Louis: "Yes?"

Emma: "What's my birthday boy been up to?"

Louis: "Nothing at all!"

Emma: "Well, I have a little surprise for you!"

Louis: "Oh! Can I see?"

...

Emma: "It's something I got for you from the ballet, remember?"

Louis: "Yes, and we're going, too!"

Emma: *laughs* "Yes, don't worry, I didn't forget!"

Louis: "Can I open?"

Emma: "Yes, of course. Go ahead!"

...

Louis: *gasp* "It's a ballanina!"

Emma: "Yes, a ballerina. Do you like it?"

Louis: "I love it, Mum! Thank you!"

[thedivineerotic]

The 8th House Experience Pt.1:

(Don’t Bite the Hand That Feeds You)

Case Study: Rose DeWitt Bukater

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” - Anonymous 

“He who feeds you controls you.” - Thomas Sankara

Two old sayings that have colored much of my experience as an 8th house dominant person for a good part of my life. Beyond the sex, occult and transformation themes, one of the most under-recognized signifiers of the 8th house is the connection to other people’s resources. It sounds mundane on the surface, and it is, but growing up and looking at my childhood and adolescence in retrospect I began to understand the depth of how it plays out. 

And one of my favorite movies and characters illustrated it before my very eyes. 

In Titanic, Rose is showered in gifts, presents and jewels bigger than she can handle. She is gifted things from other people, from a lavish wedding on behalf of her mother to the Heart of the Ocean from her fiancé down to the first-class tickets onto the Titanic on its maiden voyage. While she can play it all up and she does appreciate it, one thing is clear; She never asked for any of it. The 8th House is the house of other people resources, opposite the 2nd house of our own resources.

Rose is never consulted for her opinion, takes or even how she feels about any of the things people shower her with. Her mother disregards the lavender color theme she wants with her wedding, talking about her when discussing it but never actually involving her in the conversation. 

The 8th House is opposite the 2nd House, the house of voice and speech.

She’s treated like a child, “meant to be seen and not heard.”

Her fiancé Cal orders her food for her like a child, down to the temperature of the meat. 

Her family and friends have celebrated her engagement and impending wedding. Her mother dotes on her fiancé. Her fiancé has their plans set for when they land. She seemingly has it made with the perfect man, wedding and life. But until Jack, no one ever asks her how she feels about the wedding or if she even loves her fiancé to begin with. She says “it feels like i’m standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming to the top of my lungs and no one even looks up.” And that colors a lot of experiences with the 8th house, being on the receiving end of other people’s resources without being asked if you even want them or having any input in them at all.

And running the risk of being called ungrateful if you don’t want them.

Rose feels trapped. She describes the opulent heart of the ocean diamond necklace that many would have died for as a dog collar. But she still hesitates to leave. When Jack comes into the picture and her mother realizes she may be tempted to throw her plan out of wack, she accuses Rose of being selfish and threatens the idea of a poor, dishonorable, shameful existence with them losing everything they have and working as seamstresses. The 8th House is an extreme house, it doesn’t know nuance, it doesn’t know the middle ground.

The 8th House: you accept all the resources other’s have to give you or they threaten to rip the rug out from under you completely. 

In the 8th House, you run the risk of people gifting you things with the intention of controlling you. 

Dangling their resources in your face like a cat toy.

In the end however, it leads 8th Housers out of the dark into the 9th House, a house defined by independence, adventure and risk. A life very similar to Jack and the path he was able to give her a glimpse of.

The path that she ultimately took for herself.

In the most extreme examples, such as mine, it may even make one hyper-independent but for the better. At the conclusion, Rose was able to give it all up and go live the life she built for herself, based on choices she made for herself and define herself outside of the things given to her, but with things she gave and made for herself. 

As an 8th houser, like Rose, you realize people would gift you with things not for you, but for them. 

Also, eventually like Rose, you stopped being scared of refusing things people gave you if you didn’t really want it. You, cautiously, learn to trust others but most of all you learn to trust yourself and your own resources to get you ahead, your own resources physically and mentally. 

And they worked.

It worked for me

Give it a chance and it will for you too!

Signed, The Divine Erotic (8th House Sun, Mercury, Ketu (South Node), Uranus and Neptune)