#wgw

[babayanska]

Grrrls just wanna have fun

[abz-j-harding]

Whitby Goth Festival 28-30 October 2022

[underwaterbatbitch]

IMG_7401 by PeeBee(Baxter Photography) on flickr

dated april 24 2005

[bearys0ft]

Tumtum

What would you wanna do with my belly?

[arctic-oceans]

WIP intro!

( my writeblr intro can be found here )

Wolves Gone Wild ( WIP tag: wgw )

-

There is calm before the genesis of the storm:

It starts on Level Three, from the lips of a sailor and it spreads like a deadly disease. From the hands of farmers in the fields, to the stalls of merchants in the cities to the homes of the wealthy in the Capital.

The citizens sing about it on cold evenings when they gather around the fire, and the workers whistle melodies at midday when they harvest the crops. At the end, it is heard over the radio.

The hymn of the wandering God who ascended from the Well.

Aston had dreamed of the Stairs his whole life:

The sweat on his brow, the hot iron in his palms, and the raging wind whistling in his ears under a sky embroidered with lapis lazuli. So when he finds a boy passed out on the Poppy Hill with the salt of the Ocean etched on them instead of a Marking, a premonition of the impending downpour awakens within him.

That was just the beginning- the smell of smoke from a fire burning miles away. It was the wind of change. Because these things- the good, the bad, and the in-between- have one thing in common. They are made of lightning.

-

Wolves Gone Wild is a NA, low fantasy ( no magic ), queer adventure that is set in a world of my own making that serves as an allegory for capitalism and the gap between the socio-economic classes.

-

Setting:

The World consists of Seven Levels which are vertically connected via a natural phenomena called Stairs. Each Level acts as a continent, and each has its own unique ecosystem.

There can be found two openings for the Stairs on each Level. One, that one can climb upwards to the entrance of the upper Level, and one that one can choose to descend in order to go to the lower Level. Ascending and descending can be proven to be deadly due to certain conditions in each Level, and few attempt it.

The Levels, as they are known, are:

Level 1; a volcanic wasteland. Otherwise known as Hell, it's a place where no man lives.

Level 2; a vast Ocean.

Level 3; this is the Level where most of the population resides. Most residents live in villages amongst agriculture fields which cover about 80% of the Level while the other 20% is a more mountainous area with a couple cities.

Level 4; an unhibited, underground area full of caves and mine shafts.

Level 5; a mountain range found in the arctic. The only people who live there are found in a sole city carved in the mountaintops which is charectarised by its technological advances.

Level 6; a dense forest.

Level 7 is a myth, as far myths go. Often called as Heaven, it can only be a dreamlike place.

Markings: One gets a Marking at the age of seven. It is a tattoo all people are required to get at the base of their neck which states the following information:

Level in which they were born

Name and Surname

Date of Birth

City/village in which they were born

Father's name and surname

Mother's name and surname

Those who are exiled will have their Marking is crossed out with a knife cut, leaving visible only the Level in which they were born and their name, the rest are usually covered by the thick scarring. Markings are used as an id, so by being exiled one can be denied entry in most places.

Those who dare are always rewarded: the highest paying job one could have in this world is being a Supply Runner.

Supply Runners are trained individuals who ascend and descend the Stairs, carrying with them supplies and resources and bridge the distance between the Levels.

-

Plot ( kind of ):

Juno, Aston, Kenta and Rin are united against all odds on Level 3. With different ambitions in mind, they embark together on a journey up the Levels, seeking after their dreams. During their ascencsion, a storm is found and it seems more dangerous than ever. As the group finds themselves interwined with the fate of the world, they can do nothing else than face the tempest head on.

-

Main Characters (and some funny descriptions):

Juno Braudshaw ( 21 y/o - they/them - Level 1 )

Has problems

Has seen some shit and has scars to prove it

Can and will fight you if needed

Someone really needs to feed them, they're always starving

Is the glass half empty or half full?

They're the first to arrive and the last to leave

They makes up conspiracy theories

They will lie down and sleep next to you and there’s nothing that can stop them

Was adopted by Rin ( not officially but as a bond )

Too good for this world, has suffered too much

If you smile at them or hold a door open they will die for you no question asked

Their entire existence can be summed up with the “this is fine” meme

Lovestarved, touch-starved but mainly, food-starved

They like to count ocean waves

Aston Metcalf ( 23 y/o - he/him - Level 3 )

Problem causer

Your problematic fave

Also that dark haired angsty boy(™)

Is an orphan and mad about it

ADHD(™)

You wish you had a haircut that looked as nice as his

Really just needs a hug dammit

Flirty disaster

Will fight you

A bit loud

Omg, he’s so loud

Quiet? Never heard of it

In reality, he tries a lot

Family is of great importance to him

Kenta Hayes ( 22 y/o - he/him - Level 3 )

Is problem

Have you ever heard of Shots by Imagine Dragons? That’s his theme song

Exiled from the Capital and couldn’t care less about it ( he does care about it but for other reasons )

He cuts his hair on his own and he’s not always successful

He has many piercings that cost at least two months of rent

Actively cares about three things and three things only: loving his mother, hating capitalism and being ripped as hell

Dummy thick/buff

He likes archery and carving small wooden totems

Vegetarian

Anxiety (™)

Scheming face 24/7 but in reality he's just trying to figure out what to have for breakfast

Let this good boy get some sleep, he is too stressed for this shit

Mutter mutter mutter mutter mutter mutter

Rin Nguyen ( 20 y/o - she/her - Level 3 )

Problem solver

Mum friend but don’t try her

Doesn’t have time for anyone’s bullshit

Brutally honest

Has seen some shit

Money(™)

She will light up a fire and cook a warm meal while the other three ( more likely two: Aston and Kenta, Juno is a babyboy they would never actively cause harm<3 or would they?? Hehe ) are fighting, but she will also dump the plate of soup on their heads if they tire her out too much

Her smile can destroy anything on her way

Sarcastic lil shit

Lives for the memes

Knows her way around

Connections, connections everywhere

She likes to collect herbs and flowers

She will let you vent to her about your problems but she does not promise that she will help you

The glue between the four of them

-

Side Characters:

Ioh Park ( 20 y/o - he/him - Level 2 )

The Creature ( 27 y/o - they/them & it/its - Level 5 )

Blythe Anderson ( 25 y/o - he/him - Level 3 )

Sorn Do ( 19 y/o - she/her - Level 5 )

Alcar Do ( 19 y/o - he/him - Level 5 )

-

Taglist ( ask to be added! ):

@serenanymph

-

[ks-caster]

What's Good for the World (Might Not be Good for You)

Chapter 3: Justice

Being bitten by another vampire could be either an intensely pleasurable experience - powerfully intimate, the perfect thing to add to a long night of sex - or a horribly painful and demeaning one. Being attacked and reduced to a food source wasn’t something that most vampires dealt with on the regular, being designed as predators, and not prey. 

Klaus had been bitten plenty of times, usually during foreplay or between rounds. The small pains of fangs in his skin would turn to blinding pleasure in an instant, and he’d learned to relish and even crave it in short order. But before today, he’d never had his throat torn into, his blood spilled on the sheets under him as the vampire on top of him fed in frenzied desperation. 

Caroline’s hands went from gently holding onto him to gripping his arms for dear life to actually holding him down as her strength returned and his waned. His healing was fast, but was having trouble keeping up as she raked her teeth across his skin, searching for more. He’d shed his jacket as she’d approached his throat - a wise choice, as she’d fisted a hand in his shirt and torn it to shreds in a second.

If Caroline had only erred on the side of harming people in her first 24 hours of vampirism, then she’d probably never done this before, he realized. Feeding like this would kill a human, after all. He’d threaded his fingers though her hair early on, and was stunned to realize that his arm was going numb. She must have been truly desperate. And to think, there was a refrigerator full of blood bags not three feet away, taunting her as she was unable to consume them.

“Darling,” he whispered, gently placing his free hand on her hip. She bit down harder, clearly lost in her hunger. “Caroline, stop a moment. Stop—” She sat up abruptly, fangs still extended, staring down at him with dark eyes filled with unquenched bloodlust. Had she ever truly shown this self to anyone else, he wondered distractedly?

“I’m going to need to steal some of your blood bags,” he said, sitting up and regretting it instantly. The dizziness was so overwhelming that he nearly fell into her. 

When he looked up, he realized that the veins had retracted from her face, and she was staring at him wide-eyed and horrified, face and the front of her shirt still covered in his blood.

“Deep breaths,” he coached, taking her face in both of his hands. “I’m already healed, see. But I am going to need a drink myself before you continue.”

“Con—” she choked out, eyes moving from his healed but still blood-soaked neck to the crimson mess of her pillow and sheets.

“Hey, breathe,” he repeated sternly, wrapping her in his arms and turning so she wasn’t facing the evidence of her violence. “With me, in… out…” Obediently she took long, slow breaths, and he held onto her until her heart rate slowed.

“I’m going to make use of your blood stash now,” he murmured into her hair, and she nodded jerkily, not looking at him as he let her go, sped around the bed, and pulled a pair of blood bags out, popping the cap off of one and directly into the garbage with unerring precision. Bagged blood wasn’t as tasty as fresh and warm, but it was perfectly fine in a pinch, and he’d sucked down one bag and was starting on the other in the time it took him to walk back around the bed at human speed.

“Feeling any better?” he asked between gulps, relishing the feeling of strength returning to him. She nodded again, the same jerky movement from a moment ago, still not meeting his eyes. 

He finished the second bag, tossed it in the trash beside the first, and took one of her hands in his, gently rubbing her fingers between his. They were warmer, softer, his blood having done its job. She still wasn’t looking at him. He raised her chin with his free hand, and she met his eyes, though she looked like she would have preferred to do just about anything else.

“I do presume that you realize I’m quite a bit more durable than the average vampire,” he reminded her, cocking his head to the side a little and raising his eyebrows. 

“I know,” she breathed, “I know, I’ve just…” 

“Never gone that far before?” he finished for her. She nodded, dropping her gaze when he removed his hand. “Ever been in such a bad way before?” he challenged, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. She shook her head.

“I didn’t expect I’d actually hurt you,” she finally admitted. 

“That sort of frenzy feeding is completely natural when a vampire has been starved as long as you have.” How many weeks had it been since Alaric had her? How many weeks, days, hours, minutes had she been suffering and none of her friends had noticed - and he hadn’t noticed? 

He shoved the pain of that thought deep, deep down and returned to the present. “It’s why Stefan is a ripper; since he never has a proper, healthy diet, when he finally does feed from a human he can’t control himself. Though he’ll never listen to any of us evil villain types when we try to explain that he’s bringing it upon his own foolish self…” he added, and Caroline’s tiny laugh lifted a weight off his heart he hadn’t realized was there.

“No ill-effects?” he checked, feeling her pulse as it slowed. “I take it the loophole is working?”

“Yeah,” she responded quickly. “Yeah I feel much better now. Thank you,” she added, and her eyes were burning into his with something that looked more like guilt than gratitude, and he wanted to kiss it away, wanted to press his mouth against hers until she couldn’t remember why she felt guilty, wanted to sink his fangs into her throat, slowly, gently, and give her an intimate lesson on what feeding from another vampire could be like, should be like.

“Good to know we’ve found at least one way to survive for the present,” he interrupted what he suspected was going to be a long and painful apology. “Now to figure out how to fix you up properly.” She swallowed, and nodded, clearly trying hard to focus.

“You said there was no one to murder - I take it that the hunter’s as dead as Alaric?” 

“Yeah,” she said tightly. “Technically he committed suicide right here in my bed.” Klaus blinked, opened his mouth and shut it again, wondering just what sort of a nightmare he’d missed. “My dad,” she explained, realizing he didn’t have the context to get it. “My dad did this to me. 

“He’s also the guy who taught Tyler how to break the sire bond, and could defeat compulsion by sheer willpower,” she forged on when it was clear that Klaus was going to comment on that. “So, he probably would’ve known how to fix it too. But he was so against becoming a vampire that when he was murdered, he refused to drink, and expired right here where we’re sitting. Human. So, no getting Jeremy to call up his spirit on the other side for a little threaty Q&A.”

“Noted,” he responded, then raised a hand, holding his fingers near her face, but not quite touching. Instantly, her heart stuttered and then sped up, terror gripping her. Her breathing became shallow, and though she didn’t pull away he saw something close behind her eyes. “Caroline,” he said, lowering his hand immediately. “Caroline, breathe, dearest.” She obeyed, shallowly and quickly, clearly trying and failing to control herself. “I’m not going to do anything to you that you don’t want,” he assured her.

“I don’t want,” she choked out, shaking her head vehemently. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or think that you’d hurt me or—” her panicked explanation cut off with a sob.

“Too many people rummaging around in your head is what got you into this mess,” he surmised, and she nodded. 

“I know a witch who specializes in hypnotherapy and guided soul-journeys,” he suggested. “I could arrange for her to come here and take a look at you.”

“A witch therapist?” Caroline repeated, not having considered such a mundane possibility.

“A lot of witches are therapists, love,” he responded with a laugh. “They tend to make rather good ones. This one in particular has worked with some friends of mine to great effect. I’d take Stefan to see her if I thought he’d trust anyone I recommended,” he added a little sourly, and the ghost of a laugh made Caroline’s lips twitch up slightly. 

“Are you done?” he asked suddenly, and she frowned, not understanding for a moment. “Drinking,” he added. “If you haven’t fed properly since Alaric had you—deep breaths,” he added, “it’s not like you can hurt me.”

“Maybe not permanently,” she whispered back. He let his eyes go gold, his fangs extend.

“Would it make you feel better if I bit you back?” he asked, mostly joking. He could see that while she was no longer desiccating, she wasn’t sated. She huffed out another tiny laugh, and he let his face go back to normal. She really wasn’t scared of him at all, was she? He pressed his palm against the back of her neck, pulling her back towards him. 

“Seriously love, you’re not doing yourself any favors by holding back,” he added. “I’m more than willing to supply you with what you need until you’re able to find a way to undo what’s been done to you - but I do ask that you don’t let yourself get into the state you were in last night again. For your sake and mine.” He had her there. She was smart enough to know that after injury or physical trauma, a vampire needed to glut themself in order to heal. Giving in to his gentle pressure on her neck, she leaned into him, her fangs extending, and gently bit back into the perfectly healed skin of his neck.

This time was different. This time was how it ought to be, deep and slow and sensual. He wound his arms around her, and she pressed into him, her hands tangling into his hair and running her hails gently down his back. Unable to bear the space between them, he pulled her onto his lap, and she wrapped herself around him obligingly, not even pausing. 

He knew that this time she could feel it too - with her hunger no longer dominating her, she could feel the way his blood sang in her veins, the way two vampire souls would reach out to one another, but never quite touch, during this act. As she slowed, she retracted her fangs, gently lapping away the few drops that escaped as the tiny wounds closed. 

For a long moment, neither of them moved. He didn’t want to let go, and she didn’t want to face reality again.

Then she sat back, looking down at him from where he’d elevated her, eyes full of a burning, delectable something, and he though staring into them that if he kissed her right now, she’d probably let him. Might kiss him back. Might even let him show her what else their bodies could do together, right here on her blood-soaked bed, until all she could associate his blood with was pleasure and safety and love.

The landline phone rang suddenly, jolting them both back to reality, and she climbed sheepishly off of him, sitting a little stifly on the bed as the call went to voicemail.

“Suppose that’s the universe reminding me I need to give that witch a call,” he laughed a little, and she smiled back, genuine and red-faced.

“I take it from the lack of Bennett witch intervention that you’ve not told any of your friends about this?” he checked, standing up and putting his jacket back on to cover his naked and slightly bloody torso. She shook her head.

“I didn’t want them to worry, I don’t want anyone to worry, I just—” He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head.

“Your secret is safe with me, sweetheart,” he murmured into her hair. “And I’ll happily assist you with whatever you need until we can find you a more permanent solution.”

He took a step back and she looked up at him, her expression a mix of confusion and gratitude (which was at least better than her guilt from before). 

“Why?” she breathed. “I mean, I’ve given you no hope… I’ve shut you out more times than I can count…”

“Whoever gave you the idea that you had to do things for people in order to be worthy of their help,” Klaus responded, eyes narrowing slightly in anger and sorrow, “should be hanged for it.”

Before she could respond to that - and before he could stay and say worse - Klaus vanished at vampire speed. Caroline sat frozen on the edge of her bed, watching the first rays of autumn sunlight glow through her window for a long moment.

Then she stood up, stretched luxuriously after having been so dried out for so long, and began to strip the ruined sheets off of her bed.  

[samurairobotics]

[hicbiseybilmeyenkiz]

Gönül yorgunluğu ne biliyor musun? Gökte yıldızın kalmıyor. Gölgen bir yere sığmıyor. İçindeki şarkı içinde boğuluyor. Penceren sokağa bakmıyor.

[babayanska]

sketchbook doodles that I keep forgetting to upload (part 1) :]

[quinnfantasy]

content

[underwaterbatbitch]

DSCF0919 by Christine Ticehurst on flickr

dated january 3 2009

[arctic-oceans]

Heads Up 7 Up/ Current WIP

Thank you for tagging me @mariahwritesstuff :)

You can find her post here!

Rules (Heads Up 7 Up): Share seven lines you've written recently and tag seven people

Rules (Current WIP): Post something you wrote for your current wip, from the last week. if you haven’t updated it in some time, here’s your chance!

This is about Wolves Gone Wild!

-

Aston grit his teeth, not knowing how to handle the fondness Crawford treated him with because he was not fragile. He had spent two years trying to contain all of the anger boiling inside of him and today it threatened to spill in violent urges and shaking fists.There was water boiling on the stove, bubbling, steaming, building up pressure and it was at a tipping point at the edge of the pot. Aston couldn’t turn the heat down. Gone were the days people grieved his father. In the village, it was a unanimous vote that they wore black the first month. The Orphanage’s windows were covered in dark panels out of respect, and his grave was to be decorated with flowers each weekend. As things quieted down though, life moved on as it always had, and Oliver Metcalf was eventually forgotten.  

So it didn’t happen as often anymore, that someone would look at him, and see the ghost of his father in his place. After all, it was a strange thing, being two men at once; one dead, one alive. Every now and then though, he would buckle under the sheer weight of it in his consciousness– it was a sick feeling curdling in the pit of his stomach that Aston couldn’t fathom despite his best efforts. Grief took various forms throughout a lifetime; like a broken mirror that shattered in pieces, each sharp edge reflected a point in the past where Aston had hit rock bottom. 

That first day, all it had taken to ease the fire burning inside of him was a punch. The numb disbelief in the way Kenta stared at him right after was unexpected, and it made pure adrenaline rush through his veins. It was almost salvation. Aston had stayed awake many nights studying the memory–the shift of weight in his legs, the swing, the satisfying crunching noise Kenta’s nose made as it broke on impact when it collided with his fist– hoping it would give him the same thrill it once did; but something had changed.

What once was restlessness turned into a drinking problem. Aston would snatch old bottles of aged wine from the cellar and run away at night. He’d race through the wheat fields for hours until he was panting for air, and his limbs heavy with exhaustion, and once he decided he was lost enough he’d drink himself to oblivion. He’d do anything to help him forget. He preferred the little world in his head anyway.

-

Soft tagging @imaginativemind29new @withlovelunette @obviousknife @wolfsong02 @albatris @tabswrites @cream-and-tea @cherrybombfangirlwrites @captain-kraken @faelanvance @bardic-tales @ladyazulina

[unfriendlyneighbourhoodbogwitch]

I tell you what. Even though I feel like this whitby goth weekend wasn't as great an experience as when i went in april (more people, fewer stalls, seemed to somehow get lost more and feel like I missed part of it, and I was exhausted anyway from the last few days) it is still honestly such an inspiring event, I want to dress like that more often everyday, i want to make my own clothes and add lace and ribbons and bats to everything, and I want to cut my hair so I can tease it up better

[walkgleeshwalk]

i get lit n i freestyle

[methyl-on-fire]

apparently I look like a sexy girl version of this guy when I'm blackout & I think that's cool

[samurairobotics]