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[hometoursandotherstuff]

Historic 1769 Colonial style home in Keymar, MD has been renovated and redecorated in a variety of styles. Firstly, they painted the distinctive brick exterior pale gray, with an orange door. It doesn't look bad, but it's not the traditional, iconic look. It has 4bds, 4ba, 5,227 sq ft, and they're asking $3m. If you are a purist when it comes to historic homes, you probably won't like it.

Now, remember- I said that it was done in a variety of styles. The entrance hall has Oriental themed wallpaper. They stripped the newel post and railing on the stairs and left it bare wood, (I like that look, but it needs a flat protective finish, b/c it's going to get very dirty), plus a new floor has an inlaid border.

The light fixture was removed from the ceiling medallion and they did a copper-look design on it.

The sitting room is very non-traditional with it's bright green walls but the ceiling mural has a colonial scene. Above the fireplace they have colored mirror squares.

The next room has a large jungle leaf print and a wooden hippo, elephant, plus a trunk.

This room has a wall of shelving and opens to hall stairs.

The family room has a dark, rustic, nautical look with black and deep green walls. This room has wood paneling that was painted over, plus a brick trim around the top. I wonder if they darkened the brick.

I have seen faux aged walls, but this one looks like black mold. It's well done, but unusual. They left the pocket doors and beadboard, but painted them dark gray. Ironically, the sink cabinet looks very colonial.

The tub has a framed skull print above it and some stuffed animals on the ledge. The shower is modern.

The dining room is gray & black with a French cabinet. The table is a pine colonial.

The large kitchen has a rustic ceiling and 3 different cabinet colors- blue, gray, and colonial red. The ceiling looks like flooring to me. The glassware cabinet looks French.

The open concept space has a dining room with a big stone fireplace and stripped doors on the patio. The gold glassware shelf is a French pastry stand.

The primary bedroom has a traditional look. Nice big fireplace in here. The wood paneling was painted white and there's a mural on the coffered ceiling.

This smaller bedroom has nice wallpaper. It even has a colonial rocking horse in the fireplace.

This is a lovely bath. I like the cabinet and closets.

There's a 2 car garage with a space between that they've turned into a home gym/man cave. There's also a sleeping area.

They painted this beautiful barn-turned-home a dark gray, including this wonderful brick wall on the side.

It's lovely inside with slate flooring.

There's also storage for the big Home Depot skeleton.

This garage has a sitting room downstairs and more of a hangout space upstairs.

The main house has a patio.

Lots of space. There's even another small stone building.

There's also a pond on the 25.02 acres of property.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/11210-Cash-Smith-Rd-Keymar-MD-21757/67480669_zpid/?

[misstycloud]

Unfortunate Love

Yandere childhood friend x taken GNreader

—————

Finn took a deep breath, a poor attempt to loosen his nerves. He had all reasons to be nervous, he was finally getting to see his long-time best friend after so many years. While they did speak on the phone and spent hours sending texts back and forth between their devices, it was nothing compared to the real thing. The blonde's felt his heart thump loudly against his chest, reminding him of all those moments in their youth when he was painfully in love with his friend and they had no clue.

Hah, they still don't! (Y/n), his bestie who doesn't know how they make him feel every time they speak. (Y/n) who had no idea of the lovesick gazes he would send them whenever they weren't looking. (Y/n) who was oblivious to his feelings for years, somehow never realising despite it staring them straight in the eyes. (Y/n) who remained clueless to his despair the day they announced their relationship. (Y/n) who never saw him on the floor in his room, covered with snot and ears, desperately crying for them.

Finn dubble checked his phone to make sure he was at the right address, it would be embarrassing to hype himself up only to be met with an old lady in the doorway. Geez, he knew (Y/n) would laugh their ass of if that happened and he'd rather not be ridiculed during their first reunion in so long. He smiled at the thought, god how he loved that laugh.

His friend always complained they hated it, but he found it cute and always reassured there was nothing to be ashamed of, even if they sounded like a 'dying-elephant-choking-on-its-own-trunk-while-having-a-cold-and-birthing-a-new-elephant.'

After just a few seconds after knocking on the wooden frame, the door swung open and he laid eyes on the most important person in his life.

"Oh my god, Finn!" You exclaimed in joy at the sight. "I haven't seen you like this in ages. It's great that you could come, I can't wait to show you everything I've told you about."

He giggled at your enthusiasm, it was always like this, you lifting him up and making him see the beauty in things he would otherwise pay no mind to.

You pulled Finn inside your apartment, excited to exhibit your home to him. "We've gotten a bunch of plants- to make the air in here fresh you know- and even started our own little plantation on the balcony. There are lots up on the roof, too. It's accessible to everyone in the building so we're not the only ones doing this. Oh, and there's a pool you can use! It's awesome for parties."

As the blonde man was getting sucked into your babble, one word in your speech painfully stuck out to him: We. Oh, right. He almost forgot. Your not alone living in this home.

"(Y/n), have you seen the wine? I wanted to bring it out for when- oh!" Finn looked passed you and saw a tall, handsome brunette make his way around the corner and meet eyes with him. "Why didn't you say he arrived already?" He chuckled and wrapped his arm around your waist. "Trying to make me look bad, are we?" Your boyfriend teased you.

You slapped his arm, "Of course not, just got a bit caught up in the conversation, Eric. And I put the wine in the second box in the fridge, it's behind a bunch of other stuff so it's hard to see."

"Haha, okay, was getting panicky there." Eric stepped forward to properly greet his guest. "Hey, I'm Eric as you probably already know."

"Finn." He responded dryly, but if the other man noticed, he didn't express it. Or perhaps he simply didn't care.

"It's fun to meet one of (Y/n)'s old friends, I know you two go way back." Ushering his partner's childhood friend further inside, he spoke, "I hope the trip wasn't too much of a hassle, wouldn't want this to be of any trouble for you."

Of course it wasn't any trouble, Finn wanted to snap. But he wasn't dumb enough to do that. He understood what would happen if he acted upon his feelings.

“No, there were no issues.”

The three of you sat down in the living room, pouring the liquid evenly and getting the conversation started. Finn found himself multiple times wanting to throw your partner against the wall. It was so unfair. Everything was. Why did Eric get to live with you and he didn't? He knew you way better than your own boyfriend. You two have been together since you were crawling around in diapers. What could possibly beat that?

He was there when you lost your first tooth. He was there when you first learned to ride a bike, when you got that job at the ice cream shop in the plaza, and moved out of your parents house. All the important moments in your life, he had been present. And what the hell has Eric done except watering some plants with you? It was laughable. Anyone could see he was not worthy of being your boyfriend. Finn would do anything for you and he doubted the same could be said for Mr. Gardner.

A part of him was ashamed at the unethical length he was willing to go, but on the other hand those feeling were washed away when he saw you beaming at him. It was all worth it if it was for you.

You and Eric were retelling funny stories of your time in the city while Finn was writhing in envy, glaring slightly in the other man's direction, not that you noticed of course. Dinner rolled around and you served your friend with great eagerness, you have been working on your culinary skills for a while now and it was time to see if the work had payed off. The brunette had endured as your Guinea pig and said it tasted good, but you insisted the true test was giving the food to someone else.

"How is it?"

Finn gasped for added affect, "It's amazing (Y/n)! You're a fantastic chef, this is definitely the best meal I've ever had." He praised, and your ego nearly boosted through the roof.

Your cheeks dusted a light pink. "Haha, well thanks. It's not that good, but I appreciate it."

The blonde man simply smiled in content. The truth was, the dish was in fact not that good. It wasn't bad by any means, however it wouldn't win any award. The past was cooked too long and the sauce had a burnt taste to it. Despite all these factors, it was without a doubt the best meal he ever had. Because it was something you had made for him with your own hands. Even the ingredients were ones you'd grown by yourself. (Partly with your sweetheart's help, but Finn pretended not to know.)

You really were his true love. Which is why it is so sad. He wasn't sure if he could love anyone other than you. After he found out about your relationship status the young man tried to make himself like someone else; not everything works out the way we wish them to and he was therefore forced to live with his unrequited love.

"Actually, there's another reason we wanted you to visit." You joyfully mentioned. "It's pretty important."

Your friend chewed his food and gave you a nod, signaling you to continue your speech. He wondered what is was. It appeared to be a big deal, but he assumed it wasn't anything bad judging from your happy expression, one that was mirroring the brunette's. A dreadful feeling formed in his gut. He didn't like this.

"Well," you started, coyly. "Me and Eric have been dating for a long time now, and we want to take the next step in our lives together."

No, he really didn't like where this was going.

"So, we made the decision to-" you could barely contain your smile, " get married!"

Something in him shattered. Married? You? To someone else. Fuck, he wanted to cry. But that would definitely set you off into a worrying mess, something he'd rather avoid. No, no , no, he thought. It can't be! Although he tried to contain his emotions as best he could, it appeared som e of it slipped passed the mask.

"Hey, you good man?" Eric asked.

This comment attracted your attention, "Huh, are you not feeling well, Finn?" Fretting over his condition only served to worsen the situation, reminding him of what he couldn't have.

In the end he had to excuse himself and lie that he did feel a bit sick, and that he had been for a while but thought he would be fine after a while. You were sad that he had to leave so soon and wished him well. Escorting him to the door, you said to him, "Sad you're not 100% top today."

"Ehehe, yeah...." he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. Technically it wasn't a lie, he did want to go and bury himself in a corner, though it was for other reasons entirely.

"Are you sure you don't want to spend the night here, it's no problem?" Oh how good willed you were, offering up space in your home to stop your friend from having to spend money on a hotel. Normally he'd love to spend the night, this time however, he didn't believe it to be a wise idea for any of you.

"Yeah I'm sure. I'll just get a hotel room not far away and then I'll drive back home tomorrow."

"Okay, maybe we can hangout before you go if you're better tomorrow?" You asked hopefully. "Just you and me like old days."

This made him smile. Just you and him. That sounded good. He agreed to your request and hugged you goodbye for the night. You waved to him from the window when he'd made his way outside and into his car. Watching Finn drive away, you felt a hand sneak itself around your waist.

"Think he'll be alright?" A deep voice sounded from behind you.

"Yes, it'll be all fine. Nothing a goodnight's rest can't fix." You assured. Though, something about your friend's reaction didn't sit right with you. He should be over the moon of your engagement, he seemed nothing like that. If anything, he looked...pained?

//////

Back in the car, the volume from the speakers were loud enough to burst one's eardrums. But that didn't matter the the driver. No he had a lot more to think about. The blaring music did nothing to ease the pain or distract him, which left him misrable.

Why the hell did you have to get engaged. Couldn't you have been fine as it was. Now, it was more serious than ever. In the beginning, he had actually hoped that you would eventually break up. That wouldn't happen now. Now it was legit. Legal papers and documents and everything. What was next on the list, kids?

Finn heaved a heavy breath, releasing a mix between a gurgle and sob. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he slowed the vehicle to a stop by the deserted road. The darkness kept people from seeing his sorry state; not that there were any out to begin with. Slamming his fist on the dashboard, he yelled his pain.

Why do love hurt so much?

[silverhart-makes-art]

I think this week's Bestiary Posting is pretty fascinating. I especially like the animal being described as having 'mercy', as I feel like many people would consider that a distinctly human trait. I kind of assumed this idea of animals being like machines incapable of emotions was an old idea, but this and other bestiary entries really seem to humanize the animals listed in them more then I expected.

Anyway, I think what the Zomargon actually is, is pretty obvious, but the bit that stood out to me the most was: "it strikes fear into bulls, yet fears the mouse", and my mind immediately went to my dog. He likes to put on a lot of bluster when confronted with larger dogs or animals, but show him a bug and he runs behind the couch and cries until someone comes to save him.

So, it had to be a poodle. There's no other animal it could possibly be. Lively intelligence, scared of mice, works with people, if one of them falls over they have to gather around and make a big drama about it - that's a poodle for sure.

So this description lists a lot of different traits, so I'm just gonna go down them all and explain my thoughts.

"His nose is called a trunk because he uses it to put food in his mouth."

At first I went with an elephant shrew-type nose, but that's not so great for grabbing, but you know what would be? A hand. And what has a hand on the end of it's nose? That's right, a star-nosed mole. So combination trunk/star nose situation.

"The Persians and Indians, carried in wooden towers on their backs..."

So we know it's a big critter, to able to carry people on it's back.

"...lively intelligence and a long memory..."

Gave them a bit of a big skull to accommodate those big brains. I can also confirm that poodles never forget and hold onto to grudges for years.

"...she goes out into a pool, until the water comes up to her udders."

For sure a mammal this time, so good to know.

"If the Zomargon finds a snake, it kills it..."

This explains why my dog's favorite toys are the ones made to look like snakes and why they are the first to get torn to shreds.

"if it falls down, it cannot rise."

For this I was thinking about how this happens to sheep quite often, when they're pregnant or their wool is too heavy, so I gave my Zomargon a broad back and thick woolly fur that can grow out into a big poof-ball (as I doodled in the bottom).

"...it has no joints in its knees."

This one was tricky to figure out. The knee is a joint, so how can a joint not be a joint? I had to sketch up a couple of legs off to the side just to try out some ideas. Ended up going with the middle one, and just adding a big fleshy pad on the back of the foot to support it, since there's no mention of hooves. It looks weird, but I guess they make it work?

"They possess the quality of mercy."

If a creature possesses mercy, it of course must have soft, gentle eyes, so I tried to give them a sweet dog-like expression. This is a beastie made for cuddling.

"...they make their way carefully and peaceably lest their tusks kill any animal in their way."

Just throwing in tusks in at the last second, huh? I honestly almost forgot to include them, they seem like such an afterthought in the description. And if Zomargons don't fight each other, the tusks must be used for something else. I decided to give them something like a Thylacosmilus fang situation, where these big saber teeth are supported by this crazy lower jaw. Seems to be some debate about whether these teeth were used for scavenging carcasses or killing prey. The Zomargon also eats fruits according to the description, so maybe these tusks are in fact just for opening coconuts.

[yrluvjane]

| 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 |

Chapter One: The Night it Bled

Warning: Angst, self-hate.

Summary: 8 years after the haunting incident of Lord and Lady Potter on 31st of October 1981, Harry and Jean finally visit their parents, However, Harry's feelings towards the trip are concerning .

Harry and Jean were met with the familiar smell of soaps and cleaners and the triggering scents of — well hospitals; which, ironically, made them feel sick as they walked into St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

They were in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests.

The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises... Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards. Jean noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.

They followed through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with more portraits of famous Healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds.

More witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of the doors they passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as they passed one door, and every now and then they heard distant wailing.

The fourth floor housed the Janus Thickey Ward, which was for the treatment of spell damage. It addressed unliftable jinxes, hexes, curses, incorrectly-applied charms,

"This is our long-term residents' ward. For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement." The nurse introduces. "We usually keep the doors to the door locked to stop patients from wandering about."

"We do, however, allow patients to surround themselves with their personal possessions to make them feel more at home and, in many cases, to help remember who they were." She says, and Harry doubts that anyone other than Remus is listening to her.

His uncle Sirius is busy trying to cheer his sister up with jokes that he doubted was appropriate at a hospital and evidence of that is when a passing nurse gaped at Sirius and immediately rushed to tell another nurse.

Though Harry did appreciate Sirius trying to put a smile on Jean's face, and he was sure she too was grateful. "Mr. Potter, Miss Potter..." The healer calls and faces the siblings with an unsure look, wandering her eyes to the two adults with them before crouching to their level.

Jean crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at the Healer.

"This is the first time visiting your parents, no?" The latter asked. Both the ten year old and eight year old nodded. "Your parents were hit with a rather strong charm... when they came here, they were very hurt, and they were missing -"

"We know what happened to them." Jean says with a harsh edge to her tone. "Jean! Don't be rude." Harry stated, looking at his younger sister in disbelief. "Thank you, Mr. Potter, but it's fine. We expect this from everyone. I just want to warn you that they may not recognise you and to ask you not to mention anything related to the events of that night or your relationship with them." The healer asked, and Harry stared confusingly at his uncle Remus, then faced the healer.

"Why not?" Harry asked, sharing a worried look with his sister. Jean finally let her arms down. "Lord and Lady Potter seem to experience an unexplainable surge of pain whenever one brings up that fateful night, and sometimes these surges lead to excruciating mental pain or seizures."

"Why?" It's Jean that asks, her voice is soft and barely audiable with sadness, and Harry can see her chest rise and fall rapidly as she tries to prevent herself from crying. Sirius puts a hand on her shoulder and leans down to whisper something in her ear. Whatever it was must have worked cause the next thing she did was playfully push Sirius and send him a narrowed look.

Harry doesn't appreciate the pity he sees the mediwitch gives them, but he understands where it's coming from. After a rather long and partially unnecessary pep-talk from Remus and Sirius, Harry pulls his sister aside and takes her in a hug. The younger girl stares at him sadly before poking his face, "You're too emotional, y'know that right."

"Pads says I get it from dad. And you're too quiet. It's okay to hurt every once in a while." Jean only raises her brows, Harry grins they had only been arguing the other week on how he could lift one brow at time and she couldn't.

"Remus says I'm like mum, I'm taking that as a compliment." She says as she pushes his glasses back up his nose and smiles. Harry looks over her shoulder where the mediwitch is talking to their uncles in hushed tones and wary glances. Remus looks up and catches Harry eyes, he sends the raven-haired boy an encouraging smile.

"If you don't want to go in, we can come back some other time." Harry states, scratching mercilessly at his palm, his sweating in his clothes even if though the room they're in is spelled with cooling charms. "I can handle it, I'm not a baby, Harry!" She hisses at him. "I'm not! I– I'm not–" Harry can feel tear stinging in his eyes as he looks at the small creak between the ward's doors.

Behind those are his parents, his parents. Harry doesn't know what’s worse, this or not having parents at all. At some point in his life he forgot he even had those. It doesn't feel like he has parents. Remus and Sirius are his uncle's but Lord and Lady Potter were like fictional characters to him, they were heroes in the eyes in the wizarding world and for some reason everyone need to make it sound as though they were dead. And he has to wait, wait for that wave of emotion to hit when he realises they may not be buried in a coffin but they don't exist anymore, they don't even exist to each other.

He has to go in, he decides, next year he leaves for Hogwarts and he can't have—He can't have not met his parents! And he knows Jean wants to see them, she's stuck on it too. He doesn't blame her but Harry doesn't want go, he—

It's my fault Harry wants to say. The Dark Lord wanted him. Why did his parents and Jean need to suffer. He'd rather die than let his sister go through this. "I'm scared, Jean." He blurts quietly, and it's clear on his face and in his voice. Harry feels as though his under veritaserum. It comes out of him like a secret, and he feels a bit relieved when he says it. Jean's demenor immediately changes.

Despite Harry being the older one, his sister has always been the mature one. There it is, pity and sadness in her eyes, and Harry wants to hit himself against the wall. He can't handle it, not from her.

"Harry, why didn't you say anything?" She asks, pulling him closer and further to the side. She looks at him as though he's a wounded bird as though she might break him if she looks hard enough. "Because I'm not supposed to be scared!" But he is, he's scared they'll blame him. He knows it he's fault he sees every time Remus or Sirius or Jean look at a picture at mum or dad. But to hear it from them, the thought enough makes him feel sick.

He realises he's been for too quiet and Jean turns around towards their uncle's, no doubt about to ask them to leave. Harry manages to get there before her and declares they're ready.

He ignores the look of shock and disbelief from his sister and pulls his hand back when she tries to reach for him. The mediwitch puts an unnecessary hand on their back and whispers in their ear where they are. But Harry doesn't need her, he's already spotted his mum and dad the moment his stepped in.

They're far enough to not notice them but close enough for Harry to make out their faces. His dad is leaning back on a chair, his feet over the table, playing with a Snitch. His mum on the other hand is writing by the looks of it. While his father gives of an air of friendliness and companionship; his mother gives on of solitude, he head is hunched in her book and when Harry concentrates he can see her furrow her brows every once in a while.

He wants to see her and apologise and cry and be held and he wants her to hug him and tell him it's going to be alright. "I'll see dad." He mutters shamefully. It's truly a shameful Jean deserves to choose who to see first after all she was the one who was a baby and missed the chance to make memories with them then but Harry won't dare look at his mum.

He can't act as though he didn't sit there like an idiot that night and watched his mum and dad march to death just to save his useless existence. Jean is pulled by Remus for a hug, his whispering something while kissing her head, and Harry sees Jean nod. "How do you feel? Okay? Sad? Nauseous? We can get you something to eat. There should be a–"

"I'm fine, Pads." Harry whispers tiredly. He's so tired. He can't even bother to raise his glasses back up. He doesn't need to because Sirius does it for him. Harry smiles. It's mostly forced, but Harry can feel a genuiness somewhere. Contrary to popular belief, Sirius is the mum between him and Remus. Sirius kisses him on the head and ruffles his hair before playfully pushing towards his dad.

By the corner of his eyes, he can see Jean narrow her eyes at him with pursed lips and concerned brows. Now that he is getting closer to his dad, enough to make out the lightning shaped scar on his wrist, Harry gasps in a sharp breath before pushing himself forward.

"Hey!" Harry says awkwardly and is now aware of the itchiness of his hair. His dad, James Potter, turns toward him with a grin and suspicious eyes. He pushes his feet of the table and pockets the snitch. "Can I help you kid?" His dad asks.

Harry notes the dark curls they share, the glasses, the facial structure and it's almost like seeing an older version of himself. Everyone always tells him he has his father's look and grandmother eyes. It's Jean who is a complete copy of mum. Harry chokes on air and faces his dad with a worried expression.

"I'm...ahm...I'm Harry, Uncle Sirius' Godson?"

His dad's confused face almost instantly perks up, "Really? He talks a lot about you, y'know. His proud of you!"

"Oh uhm yeah, I guess...He's visiting someone and said I could come and hang out with you." Harry awkwardly lies. He begins to scratch the pad of his thumb in hopes to stop the bubbling sadness in his throat.

"You okay? You seem quite nervous? I promise I don't bite." His dad jokes and Harry misses the flick of an odd expression that sparks in his face. "Harry," James notes with a confused nod and said boy whips his head up in shock. "Yeah?" He asks unsurely.

"That's a really nice name." James says biting his lip and smiling, showing off his dimples. "So, Sirius tells me you're really good at Quidditch, a seeker right?"

"Yeah, my dad used to play." Harry replies with a small smile. Uncomfortable tears begin to burn his eyes and Harry needs to silently scratch at his thighs to prevent them from falling. "Is that why you play? Cause your dad used to?"

"I guess doing the things he used to do makes me feel as though he's doing it with me? It's crazy and weird. Whatever but I just...uhm...I just really make him proud." Harry admits, staring right back at his dad. The older man stares back it him with a soft smile and leans over to ruffle his hair. "You're a good kid, Harry. You're dad should be proud...I know I would."

"Really?" Harry asks and the tears that he's been trying to bury finally surface as James' scared face begins to blur. "No no no, don't cry. Please, don't cry." James' voice comes as Harry hangs his head down, tears falling freely. He feels his dad's hand over his shoulder and on his back; trying to calm him down.

"It's okay buddy. If it makes you feel any better my parents dead too." However, James realized that does not appropriate to say cause Harry let out a louder sob. "I'm sorry! I'm really sorry. I didn't mean too! I didn't know." Harry defends to his dad. He knows he won't understand what his saying or why he's saying it but Harry doesn't care. He wants to apologize, he wants his parents forgiveness, he needs it. He needs this pain, this guilt, to go away.

Harry's vision blurs as James takes of his glasses and wipes his tears with the sleeve of the red sweater his wearing. "Why don't talk about something else?...Remus says you have a younger sister! Why don't we talk about her?" James muses, hoping it will stop the little boy from crying.

Harry hiccups and almost laughs as his dad trips to get him water. "Here!"

Chapter Three: The Calm Before the Storm

Tagging: @sssstarstruck @cloudroomblog

[dilf-din]

Then I have a request if you don’t mind! Joel x fem. Reader is italian and is in the US on holiday when the outbreak happens. She meets Joel in Jackson, she’s in her 20s and helps the community by teaching kids/teens (also Ellie) foreign languages like Spanish and French.

Joel becomes interested in her even though their age difference. You decide the rest, whatever resonates!! Could you add a bit of fluff like a bathtub scene together after Joel had a stressful day and she’s the only thing to calm him down?

change whatever you think should be changed and would make the story better and if you have any triggers about my requests please tell me!

I hope you have a great day!

Here it is!! I hope you like what I did with her character!! I did make her just a little older just for language competency’s sake.

Bonus: tons of Joel and Ellie banter

WC: 2400

Warnings: none, Joel being a flustered old man

“Vecchio uomo.”

Joel’s eyebrows drew together in confusion as ellie cackled manically. “What in the hell are you sayin’?”

“Vecchio uomo,” she repeated more slowly, “It means old man in Italian,” she finished, bursting into another fit of giggles.

Joel rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips, “And where are you learnin’ Italian?”

“We have a new teacher! She grew up in Italy, she knows like so many languages,” she gushed slinging her backpack from her shoulder and onto the kitchen table. She fished a dog eared copy of the Catcher in the Rye out of the front pocket and grabbed an apple off the counter taking a crisp bite out of it. “Have you ever read this? That Holden guy’s real messed up,” she continued, mouth full. “I like him,” she finished with a smile going to flop across the couch and get lost in her novel.

A new teacher? Joel hadn’t heard of anyone new coming in lately. He’d have to ask Tommy at dinner tonight. They were supposed to join them tonight for Jonah’s second birthday. He continued putting the finishing touches on the wooden elephant he had carved for the occasion, adding two dots for eyes and curling a small smile at the base of the trunk. He sanded it down one more time then set it on the table satisfied.

Ellie was chasing Jonah around the living room while he cackled like only a kid can. Joel smiled over at her. He and Tommy sitting side by side on the couch drinking small glasses of bourbon.

“Hey,” Joel started, “Ellie said something about a new teacher today, did we get someone new in that I missed?”

Tommy’s boyish grin spread wide across his face, “Why are you askin’ me? Did she tell you she’s pretty?”

“What? No, I just didn’t know if it was someone new or someone else that volunteered,” he said, clearly annoyed at the implication.

“She showed up last week while you and I were out on patrol. Spent a while settlin’ in, I guess today was her first day at the school. She’s a real pretty thing,” he said with a cock of his head, finishing off the rest of his glass.

“I don’t care how pretty she is, I care that she’s teaching my kid how to make fun of me in another language,” Joel retorted.

Tommy tried to stifle a laugh but couldn’t.

Joel looked defeated and finished off the rest of his bourbon.

“Why don’t you go down there and give her a talkin’ to, big brother?” he teased.

Joel rolled his eyes once again and reverted his attention back to Ellie and Jonah. They were playing with the set of wooden animals Joel had made him. Ellie going over the sounds they made in an exaggerated voice drawing giggles from the little boy. His tight curls bouncing wildly when he threw his head back. His heart warmed at the sight of them, safe in the walls of Jackson, untouched by the horrors of the world.

Ellie burst through the door with the same vigor that she usually did. Dragging her muddied shoes across the carpet and drawing a sigh from Joel. “Shoes off by the door Ellie,” he reminded her.

“Oh shit, sorry,” she said backtracking to kick them off but doubling down on the set of muddy prints she had already left.

“What’d you learn at school today?” he asked as he diced some potatoes for supper. “Any new insults for your old man?”

“Nah not today, our language teacher started some French lessons with us, but it’s too frilly for me, doesn’t sound right when I say it. Are we going anywhere tonight? I wanna wash this rain out of my hair, but I’ll wait if we have to go out again.”

“Not tonight kiddo, you’re good to go,” he smiled as she rushed upstairs.

Italian and French? Joel had taken Spanish in high school, but that was a long time ago. He couldn’t imagine having that many languages rolling around in his head. That new teacher must be smart as a whip.

They had stopped by the store to pick up a few items they needed around the house. Their washcloths were threadbare and they needed some more shampoo bars. Joel was piling the items into his arms listening to Ellie rattle on about the Catcher in the Rye when she suddenly interjected, “That’s her!”

“Who, what now?” Joel said trying to follow her gaze.

“That’s our new teacher. C’mon I’ll introduce you,” she said grabbing his arm and leading him across the store.

Joel’s heart jumped into his throat at the sight of you. Dark wavy hair framing a face with the prettiest features he might’ve ever seen. Dark, attentive eyes under thick lashes, skin that looked like it drank in the sun’s rays as a hobby, and a radiant smile. You looked to be in your thirties, but he couldn’t quite place it. You were smiling at Ellie as she must’ve been introducing you, your eyes locking with his.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you smiled extending a hand.

Joel shuffled the items he was holding around to free up his own hand and meet yours, it was as soft as sin. Tommy wasn’t kidding when he said you were pretty. “I’m Joel,” he said with a soft smile, “How’d you end up here?”

He listened to you talk hanging on every word. The lilt of your voice was intoxicating and he wanted to get drunk on every word falling from your tongue.

“My family was on vacation here the weekend of the outbreak. We lost my parents several years ago trying to journey between two QZs, it’s just me and my brother, Gio, now,” you explained, a hint of sadness in your voice.

“I’m sorry about your parents,” Joel said, reaching out to squeeze your hand. Your breath caught in your chest a little at the kind gesture. “We’re just up this road on the corner if you ever need anything, I’m real handy around the house,” he offered a small smile.

“Joel can fix ANYTHING,” Ellie rattled on, singing his praises.

“Well, we won’t keep ya here, let her finish her shoppin’ Ellie,” he said nudging her with the toe of his boot.

“See you on Monday!” Ellie chirped with a wave goodbye.

You smiled softly at Joel and mouthed “bye” as he retreated.

You watched the pair walked away and thanked the Lord that you had made it here safely into the company of so many kind people. Your hand still felt warm from his touch and you tried to shake the feeling. You had only been here a week, you didn’t need to be getting all these romantic ideas in your head.

Jackson had been a godsend to you and your brother. You had never settled in one place for longer than a few years. You learned at a very early age the nature of people, how they would feign loyalty then turn on you when someone or something they desired was as stake. You hadn’t made many allies over the past 25 years. So to be in a place where everyone was genuinely caring, they all worked together for the good of the whole, no one went without, you felt like you could finally breathe. When you offered to teach language at the school, you felt like it wasn’t much, but the parents and students alike were ecstatic. It was something new, something novel. You had taken a liking to the kids you worked with. Teaching the younger ones basic things like colors, numbers, and family members’ names.

You had also joined the group of women who made the weekly batches of soaps and shampoos for the townsfolk. As a child in Italy, you had spent many afternoons pouring candles and filling soap molds with your nonna. You were the youngest of the group, but they all welcomed you with open arms. They gossiped about the residents, but not in a mean way. More things like, “Tommy said they found an abandoned settlement on their last patrol, they’re going back to look for supplies later this week,” or, “Janet said the kids are going to put on a play in spring,” or, “I think Helen is pregnant.”

You were doing your best to piece together the people who lived there without seeming too nosy. You didn’t speak much as you worked except for to share different herbs and flowers you remembered your grandmother showing you and the remedies they provided. They drank in the knowledge and asked you an abundance of questions that you didn’t always have the answers to.

Your days stayed pretty busy as you tried to find your place in those wooden walls. It wasn’t until several weeks in that you started to notice all the things wrong with the little home you shared with your brother. The bannister was coming loose, the kitchen faucet had a slow leak, and the screen door was coming off its hinges. You had entertained the idea of borrowing some tools from your neighbor and doing it yourself, but this was one of your first days off, you had laundry to catch up on, and you were just tired. Tired from years of running. Tired from sleepless nights. So you decided to ask for help.

Joel was just coming down the stairs from a shower when he heard a small knock at the door. He had spent the morning at the stables getting the horses ready for patrol and had just gotten done cleaning up. His hair still slicked back, beard freshly trimmed. He was buckling his belt when he pulled the door open to see you there.

“Well hi,” he said shyly, “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

“I need some help,” you said with a mix of a smile and a grimace. “But if you’d rather do it another day, it’s nothing urgent!” you quickly explained.

“I’ve got time,” he smiled genuinely. “Let me just grab my tools,” he opened the door wider for you to step in.

“I’ll just be a second,” he said heading into what you assumed to be the kitchen.

You took a moment to look around. The frames that once held pictures of the family who lived there now filled with Polaroids of him and Ellie. The bottom shelf of the bookshelf was filled with board games. A sketchbook with a pencil tucked inside sat on the coffee table. Small pictures of their life together.

Joel re-emerged with a red tool case in hand. He sat at a kitchen chair to pull his boots on his feet, grimacing a little as he leaned forwards to tighten the laces.

“I brought a little bit of everything,” he explained, “But I can run back up here if we need anything more specific.”

“None of it should be too complicated,” you replied cheerily.

You didn’t share many words on the short walk down the dusty road. Just remarks about the weather and the produce that was coming in season. They were about to pick the last squash crop of the year, setting a good bit aside to freeze and add to soups later in the winter.

The first stop was the screen door on your porch. He actually kept a spare pair of hinges in with his tools that he was more than happy to give you. Taking the old rusted ones and swapping them for the new ones. He then made quick work of fixing the bannister, adding some new screws to anchor it back into the wall.

“Last stop is this leaky faucet,” you explained, leading him into the kitchen.

“I’ll have to get down and look underneath,” he explained stiffly lowering himself to the floor with another groan.

“You know,” he said from inside the old cabinet, “You taught my kid how to make fun of me.”

“What?” you asked in confusion.

“Ellie came home calling me an old man in Italian,” he chuckled.

You pressed your face into your hands with a groan, “That’s why she asked me how to say that, I’m sorry Joel,” you started.

He liked the way his name fell from your tongue.

“S’alright, it’s harmless,” he assured peeking out to send you a smile. “There, that should do it,” he said tossing his wrench on the floor and slowly easing himself up, the pain on his face evident.

You offered him a hand and he gladly took it. His fingers holding yours just a few moments longer than necessary.

“Back pain?” you asked.

“Just getting old,” he shrugged, “All the time I spend on those dang horses doesn’t help.”

“Hold on,” you said disappearing down the hall.

You came back holding a few bars of soap. “If you run these under the water and soak in the tub, it should help your sore muscles,” you explained, “Dried lavender and mint so you’ll smell nice too. Not that you smell bad,” you quickly tried to cover up.

Joel chuckled, “I know what you meant. Thank you darlin’, this is very kind of you.”

“Well it was kind of you to let me bother you on your day off.”

“You could never bother me, mean it,” his rough hands cradling yours. You felt your heart quicken at the touch, already longing for more when he pulled away with the soap in his grasp.

“Well, I should get goin’, I’ll think of you when I’m soaking,” he said, cheeks instantly flushing, “Well, not like that, I mean-“

“Please think of me,” you almost whispered, placing a hand on his bicep. You allowed your fingers to trace the contour of it under his flannel.

This time it was his breath that hitched.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and felt his mouth pull into a grin.

“Please don’t hesitate to come get me if you need anything else, I might’ve unscrewed your kitchen lightbulb just a bit so I have an excuse to come see ya again,” he said with a boyish grin.

“Joel Miller, you are cruel,” you said in mock outrage.

“Ciao, bello,” he waved in the best Italian accent he could muster. “Asked Ellie to teach me,” he winked.

You crossed your arms over your chest watching him from your doorway. A smile so big you couldn’t hide it if you tried.

This place got better every day.

[centipedelightning]

Hi! This is v silly and feel free to like... ignore it but. How would the skelebros react to a monster reader? Specifically an elephant monster. I love elephants n my oc is one :,)

okie my surprise month-long hiatus is over and I get to start with one of the cutest ideas ever!! genuinely love this mousy. You can stay on anon but would you consider showing me your oc??? I don't even need to post the ask or anything, they just sound v cute. anywho since you didn't specify who I'm gonna just go down my list and write until I run out of ideas lmao.

| UT/UF/US Skelebros x gn!elephant monster reader || platonic/non-specified || fluff |

Sans

He thinks you are so so amazing

Elephant puns of course, but I don't need to tell you that.

You are bigger than him naturally and he finds it kinda funny. You have never heard more "How's the weather up there?" jokes in your life.

He also loves naptime with you. Just laying on or next to you and doing nothing. Very chill and relaxing.

He will make you carry all his stuff for him btw. Elephants have incredible strength and Sansy-boy will exploit that.

Shopping? You're carrying all his bags.

Comedy routine? You're carrying all the equipment of course.

Bookstore runs? Science junk? You guessed it.

Papyrus

Let me hear you say "Workout Buddies"!!!

Y'all will suplex random objects for the fun of it.

Elephants aren't really known for their stamina or running abilities, so you probably aren't jog buddies.

Pick him up if you can he loves it.

I am an average hight (5'7" - 5'10") Papyrus truther so if you are taller than him, he loves that as well.

My crafty Papy once again makes a return. He lovesss to make little friendship bracelets and stuff for you. If you have tusks, he likes to make especially big versions to make the decorations more obvious.

Body paint too!! He really enjoys when you two have your more relaxed hang-outs where you just throw on some MTT and chill. You sit on the floor and do your own thing while Papyrus paints your ears, trunk, or back.

Red

Another bitch that will shamelessly mooch. "oh woe is me, I can't reach. :(((((" and it's just the top shelf of the cabinet.

You get hearing jokes. So many. I hope you aren't insecure or something about your ears bc Red has a lot of material. If you are he obviously will stop. but god help you otherwise.

He really likes walking around local parks and public gardens, so you and your superior reach are quite welcome.

He's surprisingly good at making flower crowns and Trust that you will be decked out during the Spring.

He will also carve a little wooden figure of an actual elephant for you for your birthday. he has a matching one that he keeps on his vanity.

Edge

Intimidated by you, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing.

I hope you know the basics of puzzles and trap-making because Edge will be enlisting your help. If not he's more than happy to teach!

I see Edge as someone that likes to do jewelry-making (like charm bracelets and the like), so you will defiantly be getting cute items that look amazing on you.

Great grasp of color theory when it comes to clothes and skin color/tone btw. He loves to go shopping with you and will make a whole day of it. You now have a personal stylist congrats.

Workout buddies of course. Though you will be doing more cardio than you might have initially signed up for.

Blue

Swim buddies!!! Blue has a pool membership and beach access, y'all will be in the water on the regular.

Where Papyrus does friendship bracelets, Blue makes Kandi! He makes you a lot of fun matching pieces all the time.

Loves going on hikes with you. He will info-dump about all the edible, inedible, and deadly plants found on the local trails. Y’all will also be foraging the whole time.

He tries not to make you haul stuff for him but please offer anyway, he's gonna trip.

If you have piercings, Blue loves to shop around for stuff that will complement you. And there's a lot of room on an elephant's ear!! He has space to be creative!

Stretch

Photos photos photos!

You are his favorite model for sure. Stetch's usual photography subjects are small animals or landscapes, but he's learned portraiture just for you!

He loves naptime with you more than Sans btw. You two can be hanging out watching a show when all of a sudden you have a weight pressing against your arm. He's just comfortable around you! so please don't move him.

For any situation that might call for it, he lovesss getting on your shoulders. It also means he can be even more obnoxious about his own tall ass + yours. Blue hates y'all (he doesn't).

[divinemissem13]

For @25daysofvoyager, day 12 @elephant-in-the-pride-parade, @gijane-7702 Read on AO3

Winter, 2377

My childhood home shimmers into existence before me. Actually, I’m the one shimmering into existence, but it’s all about perspective. 

The house looks exactly like it has in my memory for all these years: two steps up to the wraparound porch, a wooden swing near the door, white wooden shutters that frame each window, and the dark green door that flings wide open as I approach. A reddish-brown ball of fur shoots out of the house, across the porch, down those two steps, and barrels right into me. 

I lose my balance and suddenly I’m sitting on the hard, half-frozen ground, but I don’t feel the cold at all because Molly - my Molly - has her paws on my chest and is licking my face like it’s covered in peanut butter. 

I used to watch those holos - of dogs reuniting with their owners after years apart - with a healthy dose of skepticism. I always thought they must be rigged somehow, or maybe the owner hadn’t really been away all that long. For seven years, I never dared let myself hope that I might be in for such a greeting, and yet here I am, my face covered in dog slobber and my own tears and all because Molly remembers me. 

She starts to settle and for the first time, I realize we are being watched. My mother leans against the door frame with a smile on her face and a steaming mug of something (coffee, I hope) in her hand. I’ve seen her since arriving, of course, at Starfleet headquarters and over com calls, but the vision of her now completes the image of home that I have carried in my mind's eye for so long. My heart swells with gratitude as I stand, brush myself off, reshoulder my Starfleet-issue duffle bag, and walk up the two steps to meet her. 

“Welcome home, Katie,” she beams as she palms one of my cheeks and presses a kiss to the other. In one fluid motion, she has taken the duffle, pressed the coffee mug into my hand, and turned me back towards the yard where Molly waits. “Go on,” she nudges, and I do. 

The sky is a soft gray and although it has not snowed yet, I’m sure it will soon. I can smell it in the air. I’ve missed that smell.

I walk the well-known path that leads around the house and down the hill past my thinking spot under an old oak tree. Eventually, the path will curve back towards the house so there is no chance of me losing my way this time. I stop at the oak and run a hand over its rough bark, grip the worn down knots in the trunk that I used to use for climbing. That tree has borne witness to so many important moments in my life and today is no different. Even the barren branches seem like arms welcoming me home. 

Molly runs ahead and waits in turns, barking to encourage me to hurry up or I’ll miss the incredible blade of grass she’s found or the occasional flake of snow whirling around her head on the breeze. I reach down to scratch behind her ears every chance I get, and not just because her soft fur warms my cold hands. 

The house comes back into view and I see my mother sitting on the porch swing under a blanket, waiting for us to return. I climb the two steps again with Molly close at my heels. Mom lifts a corner of the blanket in invitation and I snuggle in next to her and rest my head on her shoulder, just like I used to when I was little. Molly curls up at my feet and the three of us look out at the yard and watch the flurries that have now started to fall in earnest. Mom wraps an arm around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. 

It is good to be home.

[rodrigobera04]

Third round, this time with dragon type.

Here it is:

DRAGON pure

Small dragons lined up, forming a larger dragon,like wishwash does.

Dragon playing hide and seek, blending in with the landscape.

Kaiju turtle with a draconic skull for its shell.

Imp with huge ears like wings, drinks the blood of other dragons.

Draconic two-headed dog, used as security.

Beast with a long neck that goes around its body.

Tarasque with armored hull articulated like an armadillo.

Robust underground dragon with echolocation, with a bat-like face.

Feathered wyvern followed by her eggshell-helmeted chicks.

DRAGON/GRASS

Cactus lizard, carrying a cactus full of water on its back like a hump.

Nocturnal creature with an intimidating bat-flower face.

Dragon parasite strangler fig, wrapped around trees for steal their essence.

Small pollinating wyvern like a hummingbird carrying seeds and pollen.

Leafy sea dragon orchid, floating through the treetops.

Nudibranch covered in vegetation capturing energy from the sun.

Literal dragonfly with Venus flytraps for claws to catch prey.

Parasaurolophus with a wooden trumpet to whistle.

Vegetable drake blowing fragrant smoke of flowers and herbs.

DRAGON/ROCK

Dragon with rocky skin, pretending to be a cave and swallowing prey.

Beast with rock skin and chipped stone claw that sharpens on its body.

Cave lizard men use pieces of fossils as their weapons.

Comet in the shape of a dragon's head and with its trail of light as a body.

Avian gargoyle that rests during the day, like a pooto.

Devilish-looking monster resembling a stone idol.

Mythical beast with gemstone scales that reflect flaming light.

Hybrid of a triceratops and nurikabe with chameleon camouflage.

Winged beast with dragon wings shaped like a drill to open the ground.

DRAGON/ICE

Polychaete worm opening the ice with its jaws.

Female dragon born from an egg exposed to low temperatures.

Crocodile sleeping on an iceberg, with only its mouth and paws sticking out.

Hairy beast with large tusks, remotely reminiscent of a mammoth or yak.

Monster with a flat body, hidden in the snow and sliding in avalanches.

Polar sea monster, its sounds can be heard from the bottom, for kilometers.

Oni-like creature, blowing blizzards from its inflatable throat.

Polar reptile capable of changing its colors to those of the northern lights/southern lights.

Beast with icy blood that, when injured, freezes the attacker on contact.

DRAGON/FIRE

Pig-nosed drake who shoots like fire like a pistol.

Little dragon running and exploding with its lit fuse tail.

Bird of paradise dragon doing mating dances setting fire to its scales.

Wolf beast blowing fire into houses and stealing cattle, like in fairy tales.

Hybrid between a stingray and a bat that lives in lava, it burns its prey by covering it.

Turtle with soup-smelling breath, which attracts prey.

Pangolin with healing scales, its meat can cure diseases according to some.

Rocket dragon, has holes in its back used as turbines.

Male dragon hatched from an egg exposed to high temperatures.

DRAGON/GROUND

Terrestrial catfish that causes earthquakes.

Draconian vicuña with membranes that blow clouds of sand.

Flat crocodile that hides in the dunes.

Huge sandworm with a converging body of a whale.

Hydra eel, emerging from a mud puddle behind its prey.

Serpent like elephant trunk that blows sand, based on grootslang.

Camouflaged predator imitating a tree, as if it were a stick insect.

Snake with reliefs of footprints on the body, rotating and leaving deceptive tracks.

Lizard sticking out its tongue that is actually its real head.

DRAGON/GHOST

Dragon that has been decapitated but can separate its head from its body.

Parchment with a drawing of a dragon on it, which gives it life.

Diaphonized seahorse, with transparent skin and colorful skeleton.

Crocodilian boogeyman, based on the cuca monster,sings a dreamy song.

Dragon skin bag, gaining characteristics of his living "self", like a mouth.

Ancient monster described in a book, with the haunted ink giving it life.

Giant Dracula vampire bat, haunting abandoned castles.

Dragon hunter wearing the skin of a slain dragon as armor.

Undead kaiju that breathes will-o'-the-wisp.

DRAGON/FAIRY

Griffin laying eggs in other dragons' nests, like a cuckoo.

Chinese parade dancing lion, doing acrobatics,fight evil spirits.

Ruby sea dragon, blows pearls from its mouth like a cannon.

Lamia disguised as a maiden or nymph, swallowing approaching prey.

Carp purifying the polluted rivers and lakes by their magical scales.

Small dragon but can transform into a huge beast in defense, like a spriggan.

Unicorn dragon with magical and healing horn, but very fierce.

Lunar fairy based on vespertilio homo, with bat characteristics.

Shinchu immune to poison, predator of poisonous Pokémon.

DRAGON/BUG

Prehistoric cockroach with features of a dinosaur.

Titan beetle cutting down trees with one bite.

Giant mutant ant, like those from a B movie.

Giant tarantula hidden by its foliage camouflage, considered a cryptid.

Thorny katydid with wings looking like a dragon's eyes.

Huge mosquito stealing cattle to drink blood.

Horde of worms imitating a huge dragon.

Wingless parasitic fly that lives in the caves of noibat and noivern

Mandarin wasp causing destruction in bug-type creations.

DRAGON/DARK

Alien eldritch dragon with tentacles on its face and wings.

Yakuza lizards with scales resembling tattoos.

Dinosaur cryptid with dark skin to camouflage itself at night.

Serpent swallowing solrock and lunatone, alluding to bakunawa, apofis, etc.

Gecko with a false head on its tail to prevent decapitation.

Monster like a peanutbug with a hideous fake face on its wings.

Oviraptor preying on other dragons' nests, stealing eggs.

Two-headed beast, one head sings a hypnotic song and the other attacks.

Dragon in "sheep's clothing", uses its jaws to imitate horns.

DRAGON/STEEL

Heraldic animalistic monster with metallic fur.

Folklore monster who faced heroes, swords are stuck in his body.

Dragon covered in molten metal, using its heat.

Dragon with a chain with a metal ball, pinning him to the ground.

Diabolical creature deceiving the greedy with illusions of coins in its mouth.

Metallic wyrm with a metallic head and body, cuts everything like a knife.

Carnifex screaming and creating sound waves heard from far.

Precious mineral-eating cave creature.

Winged dragon closing its wings like a shield.

DRAGON/ELECTRIC

Albatross/iguana chimera, creates electrical storms.

Alligator with electric bite.

Fast raptor, kills prey with a surprise electric shock.

Sachihoko covering herself with her tail, like a mohawk that attracts lightning.

Duck-billed dinosaur, its beak has bio-electric organs.

Dragons like bats, flying in clouds to catch electricity, personify thunder.

Bichir can electrocute like an eel, with fins in the form of lightning.

Dragon with bioluminescent tail like firefly abdomen.

Ouroboros creating infinite energy by biting its tail.

DRAGON/FIGHTING

Iridescent python twitched and whipped its body.

Monster with mutated arms that form a second jaw.

Dragon knight with scales forming swords.

Massive bullfrog sumo wrestler, crushing the opponent.

Hydra that instead of heads, has extra arms.

Bird of terror with strong legs for crushing and kicking.

Anfisbena fighting among themselves to see who takes over the direction.

Wuxia themed tiger and dragon hybrid predator.

Demon with sharp claws and slashing wings based on devilman.

DRAGON/NORMAL

Monster with three pairs of jaws, looking like a strange dog.

Immense dragon looking like a huge mattress, almost always sleeping.

Little dinosaur with a bait-shaped tail for catching fish.

Small lizard but with a huge roar.

Reptile shedding its skin, which takes the form of colorful and stylish clothing.

Angelic-looking beast with sonic abilities.

Rubber dinosaur capable of inflating itself.

Dragon with a beard of colorful scales, used for display.

Long tatzelwurm coiled over its victim.

DRAGON/FLYING

Flock of birds that form an immense winged creature.

Roc launching its tough eggs onto its prey.

Colorful kite pterodactyl creating tornado winds.

Dragon without wings,but it swallows air to blow and also levitate.

Dinosaur turning into a bird when it evolves.

Amphitera with colorful wings and a body that makes a rattling noise.

Flying turtle, its head is hidden in the shell and comes out like a cuckoo clock.

Symbiotic dragon with butterflies, letting them drink his tears.

Wyvern goose used as a guard dog, very fierce and with a serrated beak.

DRAGON/WATER

Kaiju lobster making water turn to steam.

Kraken sea serpent, covered in tentacles and a beak that cuts metal.

Oriental dragon made of water, always dripping raindrops.

Soft-shelled turtle, its shell is shaped like wings for gliding.

Tiny, seemingly dull fish with the mouth of a sarcastic fringhead.

Monitor lizard abandoning the land and becoming a mosasaur-like monster.

Sea monster in the form of a waterspout.

Gar turning amphibian and looking like a spinosaurus.

Supernatural aquatic horse that runs on water, covered in wet, sticky mucus.

FINAL MYTHICAL:

Pixie dragon dragon/fairy, created from children's imagination of fairy tales.

Wait for more.

[cuttingpenisblackmetal]

tokigail angst yaay

-

Her therapist told her to stop doing this. This time, she's made it two months.

The hotel room coffee-maker gurgles, announcing the completion of its task. Abigail takes the cup from beneath it and carefully portions out the resulting coffee into two paper cups. She carries them to the bathroom, switches the tap onto hot, lets it run until it's steaming. She tops up both coffee-cups until they're full to the brim with lukewarm, watered-down, undrinkable hotel coffee.

Two months. It's progress, she tells herself. Last time she managed to cut him off for a month and two weeks. After this she might go for the big three. A whole fiscal quarter. Six months after that would be manageable enough, then maybe she can manage a year, and surely, after that, the urge will fade entirely.

She stops to look at herself in the mirror. As if she's preparing for a meeting, she takes some time to freshen up: she checks her skin for blemishes, she splashes her face with water, she smooths her loose hair straight over her shoulders, she re-adjusts her bathrobe.

Then, she does the exercise her therapist has taught her: she names five things she can see (a bathtub, shiny white tiles, a hair dryer, a smoke alarm, her own exhausted face); four things she can hear (the flush of a toilet in the room upstairs, traffic from beyond the window, the quiet murmur of the television, her own breathing); three things she can feel (the scratchy bathrobe, her bare feet on the cold tiles, the hard porcelain of the sink she grips onto). By the time she gets to the last items-- two things she can smell (bad hotel soap and his scent clinging onto her), one thing she can taste (the grease from his hair)-- she feels secure in the room. It's seven months after her rescue. She's in a eighteenth-floor hotel room in Chicago.

It's an exercise in futility; she knows that the moment she steps outside of this bathroom she'll be back there, deep underground, in chains and damp and coldness, in the company of vermin and a dying man. But Abigail is nothing if not diligent.

Next time, she'll go for three months. She is well aware that only an addict schedules their relapses in advance.

When she leaves the bathroom, two coffee cups in hand, she finds her co-conspirator right where he left him. Toki is little more than a mound of sheets and blankets in the centre of the bed, a grub weaving a cocoon of starched linen for itself, but she sees the faint glow of a phone in the air above the place his head must be.

"Hey," Abigail says gently, announcing her return so as not to spook him. She puts the two cups of coffee down on the bedside table and then rounds the bed. Toki doesn't look up at her; his phone is held an inch from his face, his fingers twitching sporadically as he scrolls.

Abigail slides into the bed behind him. She wraps an arm over his shoulder, lets her hand dangle around his front, props her chin against his back. 

He’s scrolling through some social media account-- after a few seconds she recognises Dethklok. These photos seem to centre around Murderface. There’s Murderface jumping off a boat; Murderface drinking a cocktail at a wooden bar; Murderface with several bikini-clad ladies, all of whom seem to be trying to avoid direct contact with him. A smear of Murderface’s visage in front of Nathan shotgunning a beer; Murderface, laughing, and over his shoulder the unmistakeable form of Skwisgaar, passed out in the sand. Toki flicks his finger and the feed scrolls onto Dethklok, all sitting astride elephants in colourful regalia; Pickles, face flushed, an elephant’s trunk caressing his cheeks; Skwisgaar again, a brightly-patterned sarong tied low across his hips and a local woman on his arm offering him a coconut. 

“They went to Bali,” Toki explains, and he doesn’t even sound angry, just sad. “I always wanteds to go to Bali.” 

Abigail lets her hand fall, splaying across Toki’s chest. She finds the thread of a heartbeat there, flattens her palm against that rhythm, it had been her favourite place to rest her hand when they’d been captive, a steady reminder that they’re both alive. 

Toki flicks his fingers again. Tokyo, the streets of Harajuku, Nathan begrudgingly in the arms of a giant Hello Kitty. Toki gasps and his finger trembles. 

“I’m tryings to work out,” says Toki slowly, “What was happenin’s on this days. I thinks here was the day Magnus fucks up my eye.” 

“Toki,” says Abigail softly, reaching for his phone. 

He lets her take it. She opens DethTube, types something, pulls up a familiar video. An old news report. ‘Protests erupt worldwide as fans demand news of Dethklok member Toki Wartooth.’ Video after video of the adoring masses, furious, beating that steady rhythm of their own: Where’s Toki? Where’s Toki? Where’s Toki?

“Look,” she says, putting the phone back in front of his face. 

Toki takes the phone and watches in silence. They watch this video every time they’re together. Millions and millions of people, chanting his name-- Where’s Toki?-- a million people who cared, so vastly outweighing the four who didn’t. 

She has looked at the videos in her spare time, too. There were, of course, no masses of people to chant Where’s Abigail?, but there had been a press conference. She’s watched, again and again, as her mother appeared teary-face before a media outfit, begging for Abigail’s safe return. She’s watched appeals by old classmates, college friends; her boss had built a website for her. They’d collected donations and posted a reward for any information that might lead to her being found. How could they have known that it was futile? They had loved her, and they had cared, and it did nothing. On the best days it does nothing. 

It does not make her feel better. It does not ease the terror or the anger. 

The video finishes, and Toki lets the phone fall from his hand entirely. He turns and wraps both arms around Abigail, and the face that nuzzles into her neck is wet with tears. 

Abigail doesn’t really know how Toki copes when he’s away from her. He’s still with Dethklok, so he must have ways to pull himself together in their presence; she guesses that these meetings are as much an outlet for him as they are for her. There’s frantic need in the way he grips onto her, more forceful than he ever clung to her down there. 

Instinct kicks in, and Abigail pulls Toki into her, slipping one of her hands into his hair as she does so. She knows every part of him from memory by now, and she doesn’t need to concentrate for her hands to find a comfortable place to rest. She’s never played any instrument but piano, and she was never good at that, but she imagines this is how professional musicians must feel about their instruments; her hands find a home on instinct. There’s a sense of mastery that comes with it that feels addictively like control. 

“Shh, shh,” she whispers. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m right here, Toki, there, there…” 

She’s always found it strange that Toki doesn’t really cry. Down in the darkness, she saw him cry only once: Magnus had kicked away their bowl of nightly slop, and she’d caught a single tear slide down his filthy face. She’s reminded of a case study she’d heard about during an undergrad psychology class, about a dog locked in a cage and zapped with electricity until it gave up trying to save itself. Toki reminds her of that dog: at some point, long in his past, his body had worked out that crying was useless, and he’d promptly forgotten how to do it. When they have these moments together and his grief overwhelms him, the way he cries is unlike anything Abigail has come across before; he trembles or he goes very still, his face grows wet with tears, but mostly he just pushes himself into her, as if trying to crawl out of the mutilated prison his body has been made into. She’s not once heard him really sob. 

Still, the distress radiating off of him is balm for her own. It’s cathartic and it’s disgusting that she finds it cathartic. She strokes his hair back, running his fingers through locks that are cleaner and thicker than she remembers them, gently rubbing at the place she recalls Magnus yanking a chunk of hair from his scalp (she still feels a bald patch there, a pucker of scar tissue from where his head was smashed into the stone floor). Just as she is consumed by the anger Toki won’t permit himself to feel, Toki feels for both of them the fathomless grief that Abigail is not brave enough to step into. 

“Abigail?” he mumbles into her neck, “Can you tells to me…” 

“About your happy place?” 

“... About what we’ll do when we gets out of here.” 

When we get out of here. Because they’d never escaped, because they’ve both learned that there’s no true escaping this. Sometimes Abigail thinks they’re living in a fever-induced delusion, that they’re both still down there. The trauma, after all, seems more real than their current lives. Maybe that’s what’s so truly addictive about these meetings: it’s the sole moment of honesty in a life that feels more and more like a bad charade. 

“Alright.” 

She gently rubs the scar on the back of Toki’s neck, then slides her hand down to his back. There are rows of old scars there, so old and long-mended that they’re barely discernible by touch, but she lets her fingers dance over them like piano keys. 

“When we get out of here,” she says softly, her lips grazing Toki’s forehead, “I’ll have my lawyer get your money from Dethklok. I’ll help you set up an account. And then we’ll use that money to buy a house, wherever you want it.” 

“Norways,” Toki mumbled. 

“We’ll buy a house in Norway. A little cozy log cabin in the mountains, in a forest, by a beautiful lake. And we’ll have cats. We’ll have an orange cat, and a big fluffy white cat, and a little black cat who I’m going to name Sabrina. And she’ll have a very high-pitched miau.” 

She pitches her voice up for the miau, and she hears Toki snort out a little laugh. 

“We can also have chickens. And we’ll have a vegetable garden, and we’ll grow our own healthy snacks. We can have celery sticks, and onions, and pickled mushrooms that we’ll gather from the forest. What else?” 

“Apples?” 

“Alright, apples. We’ll have a whole orchard. An apple tree and a cherry tree and a lemon tree and a lime tree. We’ll make gin and tonics with all our fresh limes. And we’ll have an herb garden where we’ll grow mint, so we can have mojitos every evening. We’ll drink mojitos by the lake.” 

“But the trees can’ts be too bigs… the cats will get stuck.” 

“That little black cat I have is a real rascal. She’ll be the one getting stuck in the tree, I promise you that. You’ll have to get a ladder and climb up the tree to rescue her.” 

“I will, I rescues her right away.” 

“I’m going to buy myself a really nice camera, so you better believe I’ll be filming this. The heroic Toki Wartooth, rescuing a helpless little kitty from a big tall cherry tree.” 

With Toki’s face pressed into her neck, Abigail feels rather than sees him smile. She’s always been envious of how easy it seems to be for Toki to find his happiness. In their captivity it had been terribly simple to console him. In the darker moments Abigail resented him for it-- those were the awful days where she’d leave him sprawled out alone on the cold floor so that she could curl up against the wall and nurse the hole in her chest and seethe with hatred-- and yet she’d always end up holding him eventually, addicted to whatever comfort she could steal from that emaciated body. 

“I’ll rescues your kitty-cat, Abigail,” Toki promises, his breath warm against her shoulder. 

Sometimes Abigail finds herself thinking about Magnus. Sometimes-- the worst times-- she thinks she gets it. Toki is very easy to deceive, wanting to see goodness in everything; he’s never realised why Abigail holds him, why she sings to him, why she has given so much of her precious life to the task of trying to soothe him. How could Toki, wanting for nothing, fathom how intoxicating it is, to have him under her control? 

He is completely dependent on the mercy she shows him and there’s a sense of power on that. Down in the basement, it was the only thing that got her through, he was the only thing she could exert control over, and though she did so lovingly, soothingly, exert that control she did. She’d grown addicted to it. 

She’s still addicted. 

“We can still make it happen,” she whispers, stroking back his hair. “I can get your money from Dethklok. We can go tomorrow, if you want.”

She feels him tense, a little bit, his breath catches. It’s the same way he tenses when Magnus comes down to the basement, the tension of fear coiled deep in his muscles. 

“You don’t need them, Toki. You’ll have me. You’ll always have me, I promise.”

His fingers tremble lightly against the small of her back, and by the way he goes still, she knows he’s lost him to the cavernous inner world he retreats to when he’s scared. After everything, the thought of leaving Dethklok is unbearable to him. 

Sometimes Abigail can’t understand it, the dependency on something that has done so much harm to oneself; sometimes Abigail understands it all to well. 

It’s probably for the best, she thinks, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. She’d been lying anyways. Tomorrow she’ll check out of this hotel and she’ll tell him they can never see each other again, that this wallowing in their trauma isn’t good for either of them, that they need to move on with their lives. And she’ll say despite the fact that it will break his heart again, and she’ll say it knowing full well that she’ll come crawling back in the scheduled three months, resorting to the one thing that’s made her feel better in the quagmire of post-traumatic stress that now defines her life. She understands what compelled Magnus to do this. 

For now, however, there is only their nest in a skyscraper hotel room in Chicago, their mended bodies, the starchy sheets that shelter them from the world, the grounding smell of bad hotel coffee and their own sweat. It is not quite a damp basement, but it feels comfortingly familiar. It feels like a home.

[definegodliness]

Safekeeping

There is a wooden elephant in my hands, which is my grandpa; mother’s side. The carving used to stand on the TV cabinet in my family’s ur-home on a farm, where as a kid I would watch Hannah Barbera and Cartoon Network on Satellite before cable existed. I recall a living room filled with dust and cigarette smoke. The elephant stood out. Quiet. My grandpa was a giant. A family tree’s trunk and branches. The rest of us are all mere leaves, and we knew this when he departed.

I loved him.

I’ve got a silver pendant, which is my grandma; father’s side. I know I have it, but I wouldn’t be able to dig it up if my life depended on it. It was a cross, encircled, and in Latin, the description read: I suffer with Jesus on the cross. And the poor girl had suffered so much that it painfully fitted. 

I couldn’t bear having it in my closest proximity. Grandma always suffered; always giving, never taking; always sought, but never found, and in the end died excruciatingly fighting the fading of the light. You want to know what mind over matter really looks like? See the strongest mind fighting the impossible battle for the light in their darting eyes, and know the toughest suffer. 

The flesh succumbs.

With, or without... whatever gets you sleeping at night when you feel the need for more than nothingness.

I loved her.

I’ve got flaring brown eyes, deep black encircled. Which means my father looks into his father’s eyes when he sees me, and that my grandma looked into her husband’s eyes before she died. I wasn’t aware of this until my 30′s; until in a casual conversation my mom told me I didn’t have her eyes, but his. It’s such a strange thing to have the eyes of a man you never knew. But they see, and they accept, and they empower, and...

Grandpa, I just want you to be proud of them.

You ever so simply accepted your gay son in a time when being gay was ‘not done’, and countered the farizees in a time when church was everything; you kicked a pastor out of your home when he told your wife to restart breeding days after almost bleeding out having her second miscarriage. After four sons. After two girls that could fit in a matchbox. And, oh, how she wanted to have a daughter more than anything. 

I never got to love you, but you loved me to bits, I’ve heard. I can see it in the rare photographs of us together. Tales get told, and you’re my hero. You’ll be pleased to know I still have that switch-knife you nicked from a German soldier. The running gag this act of deviancy literally saved the war will live on in our family.

You are a stranger, much like me. And I wouldn’t let your or mine impact on the world wither in temporality, if I could.

I love you.

Perhaps for being me.

In this strange world where simply accepting and plainly making sense of things is dubbed the most nonsensical strategy. 

Oma. 

Grandma, mother’s side. There is not a single physical memento I have of you. But you are here when I cap beans; when I peel potatoes; when I bake pancakes and make them a tad bit too salty, and thereby nostalgically irresponsibly decadently delicious. You are here when I worry about people. When I hug. When I give annoyingly long-term advice for short-term disputes. You are so much in my heart that you are my heart. Whenever I make the world a better place, just for that one person; that —

Will be the you in me.

--- 29-9-2022, M.A. Tempels ©

[lightningblade1994-blog]

Sonic the Hedgehog/Kung Fu Panda Mash-Up 5 {For © KatarinaTheCat} [Collab by © Lightninblade1994]

Andrew: Grandmaster Ekkletos, You've summoned me? [He looks up, still bowing.] Is something wrong?

[He looks up at a tortoise shell perfectly balanced on a thin wooden staff. Grandmaster Ekkletos, a wise and elderly asian elephant, emerges slowly from his meditative position and climbs down effortlessly.]

Ekkletos: Why must something be wrong for me to want to see my old friend?

Andrew: So... nothing's wrong?

Ekkletos: Well, I didn't say that.

[Andrew looks up, concerned. Ekkletos lifts up his trunk... and blows out a candle. And another candle. And another. And another. Ekkletos opens his mouth to say something, then blows out another candle. Finally, an impatient Andrew uses most of his guardian training to blow them all out.]

Andrew: You were saying?

Ekkletos: I have had a vision... Lord Lancelot will return.

[Andrew looks stricken. Quick, impressionistic images of a large, shadowy figure (Lancelot) flash in his mind. Andrew is rattled.]

Andrew: That is impossible! He's still banished!

Ekkletos: Nothing is impossible.

Andrew: [He stares in horror for a second before reacting.] Bill!

[Bill comes marching in, and Andrew gets in his face.]

Andrew: Head towards the East Gate and inform all to double the guards, double their weapons. Double everything! Lancelot does not enter this city!

Bill: Yes, Brother Andrew!

[Bill runs off, but then hits a column. Then he is off. Back on Ekkletos, as he walks away from Andrew.]

Ekkletos: [to himself] One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it.

Andrew: [He rushes back to Ekkletos.] W-we have to do something. We can't just let him march on back to Echidna Town and take his revenge! He'll, he'll—

Ekkletos: [He looks onto the alter of the Ebonywood Temple] Your mind is like these clouds, my friend. When it is agitated, it becomes difficult to see. But if you allow it to settle, the answer becomes clear.

[Andrew and Ekkletos stare onto the alter. Ekkletos gentlyopens up a window with his staff, letting the sunlight shown on an intricately-polished purple crystal-lie sphere hanging from what appears to be a large scepter.]

Andrew: ...The Ebon Crystal?

Ekkletos: [Looking up with Andrew.] It is time.

Andrew: [Looks at Ekkletos.] But who? Who is worthy to be trusted with the secret to limitless power? To become... the new High Priest of Ebon?

[A short pause.] 

Ekkletos: I don't know. 

[He smiles. Andrew stares at him.]

[downtilts]

totally self-indulgent 900 words of tom and greg post 4x03. i just wanted to write about tom getting a little support from greg. spoilers ofc

Greg does everything Tom asked him to, then goes back to his apartment, changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and morosely smokes a joint. He calls Ewan, who doesn’t pick up, but must have heard the news already. He calls his mom, who does pick up, and has heard the news already. She asks him to tell her when they have a date picked for the funeral. Greg asks her if she remembers an instance from his childhood when Logan came to visit and bought him a pack of Pokemon cards. His mom says she’s not in the mood to reminisce and hangs up the phone.

He waits for Tom to summon him, and gets the call at a quarter past midnight. He takes a car to Tom’s apartment, and makes a list in his head of all the things he should report on when he gets there. Predictably, there was plenty of drama at Waystar after his cousins spoke to the press.

He hears Mondale barking as soon as his first knock lands on the door.

Tom answers dressed in pajamas.

“Look at us,” he observes, “all matchy-matchy.” He looks exhausted, red-eyed and sad. Greg hasn’t been able to cry about it yet and for a fleeting moment he’s jealous.

Tom drifts aimlessly back into the dim apartment and Greg follows.

“Are you— how are you holding up?” Greg asks.

Tom shrugs. Greg has forgotten all the things on his mental list. Or rather, he’s realized this isn’t a business visit, and they no longer seem relevant. They can wait until daylight.

“I— should I get you something? Pour you a scotch? A beer?”

Tom shakes his head. He sits on the couch and rubs his eyes. Mondale barks again.

“Mondale, please stop,” Tom begs.

Greg takes one step toward the dog, then aborts, then almost steps toward the couch, but stops himself. He wrings his hands as Tom starts weeping. It’s silent aside from his quiet, hitching breaths. Greg recalls other times when Tom has cried in front of him, or nearly cried, but this feels less like a precursor to further chaos. Greg doubts Tom will jump up and start tearing the throw pillows apart. His pose signals total defeat. Greg feels useless and uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” Tom says. He laughs. “Jesus. I thought I’d have it together by the time you got here.”

“Should I just leave?”

“No,” Tom says quickly. “No. No, just— stay.”

Greg nods and sweeps his fingers through his hair, fiddles with the hem of his shirt.

“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know,” Tom sniffs. “You can leave if you want to. I’m probably just going to keep being like this.”

“I can stay,” Greg says. He remembers the crumpled packet of Kleenex in his pocket and offers it to Tom.

“What, I’m supposed to dab my eyes with tissues from your portable jerk-off kit?” Tom teases. He takes one anyway and blows his nose so hard Mondale barks again. Greg sits beside Tom, close enough for their shoulders to touch.

They sit together for a moment and Tom cries a bit more.

Eventually, Greg places a hand on Tom’s hunched back and rubs a gentle circle there. Tom makes no comment.

“Is— is this helping?” Greg asks. “I can stop.”

“It’s helping,” Tom says.

From his cage, Mondale heaves an enormous sigh and smacks his lips.

“You know,” Tom says, “back before animal rights activism, circuses would buy baby elephants, take them away from their mothers, and tie them to a wooden stake so they couldn’t run away? When the babies grew up into adult elephants, they were strong enough to pull the stake out of the ground, but they wouldn’t. It didn’t cross their minds to try.”

Greg scratches his head.

“That sounds kind of wrong to me,” he says.

“What do you mean, it’s wrong?” Tom scoffs. “This has been studied, Greg, by zoologists. It’s well-documented.”

“Well, I don’t know. Elephants are really smart, Tom. They have graveyards and visit them and move the bones around with their trunks. They do the— elephant equivalent of crying. Maybe the baby elephant grows up and decides he doesn’t mind being tied up after all.”

“Oh, so it’s a boy elephant, all of a sudden?”

“Look, Tom,” Greg sighs, “I’m sort of tired. We’re really just talking about me, right? Can we just say it?”

Tom sighs right back.

“God, I was trying to be literary.”

“There’s not really anywhere for me to go, anyway. My cousins hate me. Gerri and them all think I’m stupid. So it’s not like I’m going to be, um, swimming in enticing offers? You’ve got like, nothing to worry about.”

“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t blame you if you—shopped around. Things are going to get bleak. I’m in a bad position.”

“Tom. We’re solid.”

“Greg, it’s fine.”

“I swear. I won’t go.”

He might go. If someone did offer him a position in exchange for stabbing Tom in the back, well. He’d at least consider it. Tom’s right. Things are going to get bleak, and fast. It’s natural to want to prepare. To weigh all his options.

And yet Tom shows Greg his back so easily, and leaves himself wide open for attack.

Somehow, selfishly, Greg would rather Tom be surprised when he slides the knife in.

He sleeps on the couch that night, out in the living room with Mondale.

[xtruss]

A bald eagle arrives to steal a perch on a tree log that offers a strategic view of the shoreline at the Chilkat Bald Eagle Preserve in Alaska. When other eagles drag freshly caught salmon in from the water, these bystanders swoop in to take a share. "Hours of observing their patterns and behavior helped me capture moments like these,” says photographer Karthik Subramaniam, a software engineer with a passion for wildlife photography. Photograph By Karthik Subramaniam

In May 2021, the Fagradalsfjall volcano erupted in the Reykjanes Peninsula in Iceland for the first time in over six thousand years. The lava flow continued for six months, spreading hard black rock across the landscape. It was, says Riten Dharia, who captured this image, "an exhibition of the raw and awesome power of nature." Photograph By Riten Dharia

King penguins crowd together in the viewfinder of Rhez Solano on the beaches of Gold Harbour in South Georgia. The island sits in the remote southern Atlantic Ocean, not far from Antarctica, and hosts some 25,000 breeding pairs of king penguins, along with gentoo penguins, and elephant seals. Photograph By Rhez Solano

There are around 4,500 salt wells terraced into the hillside at the Salt Mines of Maras in Peru. The archaeological record shows that salt extraction likely began here before the Inca Empire, perhaps as far back as 500 AD. Today that tradition continues with the families who own wells, each of which produces some 400 pounds of salt per month. “The salt wells receive water through channels sourced by a salty underground spring nearby and once the water evaporates, the crystallized salt remains,” says An Li, who captured this picture. “Here, a salt miner is using a wooden rake to extract the salt." Photograph By An Li

Asiilbek, a nomadic Kazakh eagle hunter, preps his golden eagle, Burged, for a horseback hunt in the grasslands outside of Bayan-Ölgii, the westernmost province of Mongolia. The eagle’s training begins when fledglings are captured from their cliff edge nests and taught how to hunt for hare, fox, and even deer. The tradition stretches back 3,000 years. “For this image, I was lying on my stomach in the prone position looking through the electronic viewfinder at the edge of the stream,” says photographer Eric Esterle. “The ground shook as Asiilbek's horse passed less than a few feet away, splashing me with ice cold water. I remember covering my camera with my body and putting my head down.” Photograph By Eric Esterle

On a road trip through the Austrian Alps, Alex Berger spotted a one-lane road that wound into the mountains and looped back on the map. He followed it alongside a small stream lined with walls of forest when he spotted this golden tree blooming from between the trunks. There’s “a fantasy-ish inspired dimension for me,” says Berger, “which gives me goosebumps.” Photograph By Alex Berger

Sometimes a sleepless night is key to great photography. At approximately 3:40 a.m. on a frigid summer morning, photographer W. Kent Williamson snapped this image from Tipsoo Lake in Mount Rainier National Park, Washington. From across the still water, he could see a line of headlights as weary climbers approached the peak’s 14,411-foot summit—the culmination of a multi-day climb. "The night sky was unusually clear, and the Milky Way could be seen just above the mountain,” Williamson says. “I was surprised to see how bright the climbers’ lanterns were.” Photograph By W. Kent Williamson

From Frozen Memories: Rare Antarctic Expedition images! A royal penguin rookery at Nuggets Beach on Macquarie Island. Photographer and adventurer Frank Hurley went on multiple voyages but his best-known images were taken when the Endurance was crushed in the ice during explorer Ernest Shackleton’s 1914 expedition. Photograph: Frank Hurley

From Frozen Memories: Rare Antarctic Expedition images! The Terra Nova held up in pack ice during Robert Falcon Scott’s expedition to the Ross Sea and South Pole. Photograph: Herbert George Ponting

[sandimexicola]

Elephant festival

Black and white photography of the interior wall texture of an Indian Dolder, covered with thousands of small lights intricately woven patterns. A large wooden abstract tribal mask hanging from above, a big tree trunk is in front of it, surrounded by traditional Indian decorations and hundreds of blurred human figures dancing around it. Intricate details, cinematic lighting, high contrast, hyper realistic, highly detailed photography in the style of an Indian Dolder interior, with a large tribal mask hanging above a tree trunk surrounded by decorations and blurred dancing figures, showing intricate patterns, details, lighting and realism. --ar 8:5 --chaos 37 --weird 37 --s 50 --v 5.2 --style raw

[blacktowbarony]

d100 Spells, part 6 - Greenthumbery

Plant magic, nourishing and making things grow. Known to druids, dryads, and unicorns.

Thicket - A thicket of trees and dense brush up to L × 40ft wide suddenly sprouts up.

Friendly Vine - A long, dexterous vine extends from your sleeve, reaching up to L × 10 feet. It can pick up and manipulate objects.

Control Plants - Nearby plants and trees obey you and gain the ability to move at 5 feet per Round.

Decompose - Plant spores in a dead organism that will consume it in 15 minus L minutes, turning it into a crop of tasty and nourishing mushrooms.

Primeval Surge - An object grows to the size of an elephant. If it is an animal, it is enraged.

Juicy Fruit - In nearby soil, instantly grow a plant bearing a single, tempting fruit. The fruit rots after 8 hours. Roll d6 for its effects when eaten, which last L × 10 minutes: 1. Tripping balls 2. Gullibility 3. Weakened 4. Extreme thirst 5. Deep sleep 6. Can’t form new memories

Tree Conduit - For L × 5 seconds, a touched tree opens its trunk to form a portal to any other tree that you have seen. Both trees must be alive and occupy the same world. The portal’s width cannot exceed the width of either tree’s trunk.

Wood Whisperer - Whisper encouragement to a wooden object no bigger than 10 feet in any dimension to make it as tough as steel. Whisper discouragement to make it as brittle as straw.

Shroud - L creatures are invisible until they move.

Lilypads - A horizontal plane L × 10 ft square at an elevation of your choosing is covered with floating lilypads that support the weight of only those you designate.