#four generations of mud

[obsessivevoidkitten]

A Day In Blood-Swell Swamp

Yandere Frog Hybrid x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon, non-human genitalia, oviposition, general yandere behavior, misunderstanding, reader stuck in mud) Word Count: 1.7k (The yandere in this is a cinnamon roll. A real sweetie. Needed another one like him. He misread the reader's intent and is not at all a bad guy. Really hope you guys like him)

You were an artist on a mission. You were traveling all over your country to sketch the flora, fauna, and landscapes of various habitats. You had already visited several different forests and a couple of prairies.

Now you found yourself in Blood-Swell Swamp. The waters of the swamp were a deep red color. Many people in nearby towns were superstitious about the place and its odd colored water, but you knew it was just a combination of iron filled water and algae.

You rowed the tiny boat you had purchased and found a dry outcrop of trees overlooking the water logged scenery.

When you looked at the impressive sanguine waters and wetland forest sprawling out in front of you, you knew you had made the right decision.

You got out and tied the boat to a tree, the waters were still, but better safe than sorry.

Once you decided on a good spot to look at you pulled out your sketchbook. The first thing you sketched was a frog on a lily pad beside a blooming water lily. The next thing was a cluster of unique purple flowers.

After that you began the larger task of drawing the landscape as a whole.

You had just about finished when you heard a splash and then an enthusiastic male voice behind you.

"HI!!!"

You turned around and almost fell over. If the sudden presence of an unknown man behind you hadn’t been enough to scare you, the fact that he wasn’t human would have.

He was crouched down on very athletic looking legs, wearing nothing but a loincloth. He had long webbed toes and fingers that matched, though he only had four fingers. His mouth was a bit too long and his eyes were large and purple. He was a bit shorter than you but he clearly had a strong and compact body.

But the most odd thing was the color of his skin. He was a deep cherry red with the color transitioning into blue on his arms and legs past his elbows and knees.

His medium length black hair dripped as he tilted his head and spoke again.

“Hello? Are you okay? What are you doing?”

You collected yourself, still frightened by his appearance despite his so far friendly demeanor.

“Uh…”

“Are you okay??”

You flinched backwards as he stepped towards you. He stopped approaching as he noticed you were uncomfortable.

“I just… never saw a… what you are before…”

“Oh! Well I am a frogkin. I have seen a human or two before, but only from a distance.”

You were about to respond but he cut you off, he seemed to be really excited to have someone to chat with.

“My name is Cobi, what’re you called?”

You mentally scolded yourself for your rude and frightened demeanor and forced yourself to calm down and introduce yourself. You were in his territory after all, and he had been nothing but polite to you. You gave him your name and explained to him that you were an artist there to sketch the beauty of the swamp. You showed him your sketches.

“Oh wow, we don’t have any artists here. I have never even heard of sketches. We have some wall paintings in some of our huts, but nothing like this!”

The frog man was clearly impressed.

“Oh, I couldn’t live without being able to draw all the beauty around me. Hey, could I draw you? Just a quick sketch!”

If the skin on his face wasn’t already red you would have been able to see that he was blushing. If you drew beautiful things then that must mean you thought he was beautiful. The notion made his heart flutter.

“S-sure!” Cobi said in his ever chipper voice.

You spent some time sketching him, despite your original plan to get just a quick one in, he happily let you get a couple extra. One with him in the water and one of him crouched on a dead log.

When you finished your sketching you fished some sandwiches out of your backpack and offered one to Cobi. He took it and sniffed inquisitively trying to figure out what it was.

“It’s food, it’s called a sandwich.” You took a few bites of yours and then he took a few cautious nibbles before his eyes lit up and he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth at once. You had to stifle a laugh.

"Thank you, that was super yummy!"

Cobi was blushing more. You drew him because you thought he was beautiful. Attractive. And now you gave him food. Surely that meant you were interested in him right? People of the swamp didn’t just give food away! You gave food to those you liked. Friends, family, and potential mates you were courting!

Even if it was subconscious you probably were trying to court him. And he really wanted to explore the possibility of being your partner too, you were so kind and interesting.

But he didn't want to jump the gun and assume before he had a bit more solid evidence. So instead of asking or acting on what he felt all the evidence pointing to he just hung around and chatted with you a bit more while you finished your meal.

You finished your food slowly, enjoying your time getting to know the inquisitive frogkin. You answered all of his seemingly inexhaustible supply of  questions.

When you finished and said your goodbyes he seemed sad, but you were a traveler. You couldn't really make lasting friendships. And then, when you started to get up, you fell right over your own feet. Your arm stuck in some thick mud with your face low to the ground and your ass pointed up.

And that was all the confirmation Cobi needed. Ass up and presenting. The universal signal to breed!

If you had been able to see his face you would have seen that he was flustered beyond measure. You were also far too preoccupied to notice what Cobi was muttering.

"Oh... well I thought that maybe you just wanted to c-court and get to know one another better... I thought.. I j-just um... well it's just that... I-I have never even done it before... but... it seems like you really want to..."

Despite it being a bit fast he supposed he had become quite smitten with you. And, well, maybe humans coupled faster than frogkin. And he really didn't want to hurt you or offend you!

"O-okay, I'll do it!" He exclaimed loudly.

You were finally almost out of the muck and were about to ask him what he was going to do when he suddenly pulled your pants down and slid his huge tongue right into your entrance. You shuddered in shock and ended up with both hands stuck in the mud.

"Wh-what are you doing!?"

Cobi wasn't paying any attention to your words, not as lost in his efforts to loosen up your hole in preparation for the main event as he was. He gripped your legs with his webbed hands as his tongue probed you as deeply as possible, kneading and throbbing and gently stretching out your insides.

The pleasure was indescribable. You wanted Cobi to stop, but time you tried to articulate a protest the only sound you managed to produce was a loud moan or gasp.

And of course the only possible reaction Cobi could have to that was to think that he was doing a great job making his new mate nice. And he wanted to feel good with you.

He removed the slimy tongue from your entrance and removed his loincloth. Cobi then aligned his engorged cock and drew circles against it with before tip before slowly sinking into your tight heat. He had held reservations about making love to you so soon into courting, but now that he was inside you the last of them had melted away.

"Oh, oh, ooohh, you feel so amazing! I-i think you were meant for this pretty artist~"

Much in the same way that your resolve had melted away under the burning flood of pleasure Cobi was drowning you in. Judging by how it felt it was no human cock. It was much longer, a little thicker, and felt a bit slimy. With every thrust you lost a bit more of yourself until you were moving back against his movements, desperately trying to chase the orgasm you were building up to.

You had just come here to help along your art and now here you were in the mud mounted like a bitch in heat and enjoying it. It would have been humiliating if you had the capacity to dwell on such matters.

There were more important things to think about right now. Like the cock breeding you. The feel of unnaturally heavy nuts smacking into you. The soft and attentive lips kissing up your backside, straining to reach your neck.

You arched your back as you had the most mind shattering climax of your life.

"I can't hold back anymore. You sketched for me. L-let me just paint your insides for you~"

And then you learned why his nuts felt so heavy as they slammed against you. As he filled you he deposited much more than just normal cum. Over dozens of small round objects flooded into you and adhered themselves to your walls.

"Wh-what the?"

Cobi plucked you out of the mud with ease and pulled you into his lap as he sat down, with his prick still buried snugly inside of you. He held you close to his sweaty body and caressed your belly lovingly.

Now that you had a moment to process your predicament and the events that had just transpired you were completely dumbfounded. One moment you were trying to get out of the mire and the next you were being fucked.

"I'm so glad you wanted to be mates~"

Your mind was reeling trying to come up with a response to such an outrageous claim. When had you expressed anything resembling such a des-

"Mmmm~" Instead you could only reply with a pathetic pleased whimper as Cobi began rolling his hips, grinding into you and very slowly fucking you for a second time.

"Don't worry, I have plenty more eggs just for my sweet artist~"

You could only lean back against him and drool as he wrapped his arms around you possessively and temporarily fucked your mind away once more.

#yandere #yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #male yandere #yandere boyfriend #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #x reader #male yandere x gn reader #My ocs #My OC Cobi

[literaila]

cuddle time

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru's mood is disrupted by some quality family time

a/n: a little fluff for you all because i've been trolling too much

last part | next part

*

year four.

you're working on a report from a mission last week when the two of them appear, simply out of thin air. 

it's early sunday morning, light shining through the windows, the world beckoning you outside--even though you know you need to be in here, working. honestly, you shouldn't have put it off for this long. 

but it's so easy in this house. with satoru lounging around, and both of the children to entertain you all of the time. honestly, if you never checked your phone again, you might forget that the rest of your world existed completely. 

it's nice. easy. 

but not this morning. this morning, just walking into the office felt like surging through a tub full of mud, disgusting and slow. 

and you feel that way now when the kids show up. 

they both peek their heads into the office, the door slightly cracked, and you don't dare look at the two of them--knowing that they'll distract you (and that you would very much like to be distracted, at the moment). 

tsumiki creeps into the room, and you can feel her smile at you from ten feet away. her general aura of benevolence and good. she radiates happiness, your secret drug. megumi follows, not as bright but still pleasant enough, accidentally bumping into the desk, but you still don't look at either of them. 

you can see them in your peripheral, though. you can't imagine what they need at the moment. 

but neither of them says a thing, they simply stare at you, standing on opposite sides of the desk, their eyes darting from the computer screen to you with an obvious frequency. 

you don't know what they want, but you've known the two of them long enough to know that it's something. 

you still don't look at them, but you can't help the smile on your face. 

“yes, children?" you ask, teasing, after a minute of this has ensued. when you just can't hold it in anymore. "am i bothering you?”  

tsumiki leans her head on your shoulder, her face amazingly warm, frowning. “gojo won’t get out of bed.” 

megumi is just standing there, still staring at you, with his arms crossed. clearly, this is a dire statement, and they all need your immediate attention. clearly, your presence is impertinent.

you check the clock. it’s only ten in the morning, and god knows with the children, that is not late. they both wake up with the sun, ready to start the day before you get the chance to blink.

you were up two hours ago, helping megumi get breakfast together, making sure that they both slept well and that no one broke into the house in the middle of the night and stole them. breakfast was a bleary-eyed, silent sort of thing. the three of you basking in each other's company, and not attention.

but you don't really mind waking up that early. because, unlike satoru, your fragile mind doesn't pause for a good night's rest. these days, you'll get a few hours at a time, at the best. a couple of minutes to yourself, at the worst. 

caffeine is a wonderful thing.

so you don't blame the man for hiding in his room all morning. besides, he is the worst when he misses out on his precious beauty sleep.

“we all agreed,” you say, knowingly, resuming your typing. “satoru can sleep in as long as he’d like on sundays.” 

“he’s not sleeping.” 

megumi nods. “yeah, he’s just moaning in bed.” 

you quirk a brow. “is he sick?” 

“no, just a baby,” megumi answers. he says this with such an obvious attitude that you almost snort. where he got the sass, you're not sure. 

(you're sure. it's your fault.) 

knowing he has no good information for you, you turn around to tsumiki. “what’d he say?” 

“that he wasn’t getting out of bed. ever.” 

you roll your eyes, familiar with this act. “just give him a couple of hours. he’s probably pms-ing.”

they both give you confused looks. you make a mental note to pick up parenting books at the library.

“he’s fine, guys," you say, instead of explaining. "just dramatic.” 

tsumiki shakes her head. “something’s wrong with him.” 

“could’ve told you that,” megumi mutters, under his breath, and you attempt not to laugh. and fail. 

you grin at him, nudging tsumiki's cheek, a bit fond of her concern. her sincerity. “just let him sleep.” 

tsumiki leans on your arm, still pouting—you should’ve kicked satoru out three years ago. he’s rubbing off on her. “but he's sad." 

"sad?" 

"i think he's crying." 

megumi snorts. 

you blink at her. "are you serious?" 

she nods, sullenly. 

you sigh, looking back to the computer--where work and every terrible thing in the world (besides satoru) awaits you. you could sit here for the next four hours, doing stuff you should've done weeks ago, or you could deal with an emotional toddler. 

there's really no winning here. 

you sigh again and look back to tsumiki. her face is enough to break your composure completely. "fine," you say, "let's go see what's wrong with him." 

tsumiki smiles at you, grateful, and megumi rolls his eyes but begins to trail out of the office. you shut your laptop, knowing that you won't be back for a while. 

(or the rest of the day, if you have it your way). 

the two of them follow you to satoru's room, where you don't knock--because the door is already partially open, and because you don't care. 

the blinds are still shut, the entire room a stomping ground for candy wrappers and files that satoru definitely shouldn't leave lying around. 

but this is nothing new, so you ignore it. 

"hey, kid," you say, stepping over to the bed, leaning down to look at him. 

or, rather, an expanse of grey sheets. all you can see is a lump of covers, and a pillow thrown on the floor. satoru sleeps like someone's trying to hold him down, failing all the while.

you nudge him with a hand, sighing again. you got lucky with tsumiki and megumi, who are notoriously easy to wake up in the morning, unlike someone else in the house...

there's no response. 

fortunately, you can see a puff of breath from beneath his blanket, so at least he's not dead. 

there's a tuff of white hair peeking out from the sheets, and you pull it, albeit gently. because you actually do really love his hair. 

(it's irritatingly soft). 

"i already know you're awake," you tell him, dryly. "are you crying? tsumiki said you were crying." 

the covers are quick to move, two large hands pulling them down with surprising efficiency, and a red-eyed--though not teary--satoru glares at you. "i'm not crying." 

"oh, great, then i don't have to comfort you. i don't think i have it in me today." 

he pouts, naturally, and throws the covers back over his face. at least this is no different. 

you turn around, looking at both of the children helplessly. see, you want to say to them, he's fine. but tsumiki waves you forward and megumi's got a little quirk in his lip, which is answer enough.

you nudge satoru again. 

"c'mon, you're scaring the kids." 

"they weren't scared when they poked me awake and tried to steal my socks." 

you turn back with raised eyebrows. tsumiki looks away guilty, and megumi's smile widens. but your eyes gleam, because satoru deserves at least that. and because all of them are terribly amusing. 

you roll your eyes when you turn around and there's a single blue eye looking into yours. "well, you're scaring them now. and obviously," you answer. "socks are criminal in bed." 

satoru tries to pinch you from under the covers, and you smack his hand away. "leave me to die," he says. 

"they're quivering, satoru," you say, trying not to laugh. "do you want them to cry? because they will. it's probably the bedhead. or maybe the morning breath. seriously, do you make out with your pillows when you sleep?" 

the covers move once again, and satoru's glare is vicious. "i do not have bedhead. or morning breath." 

"yeah, yeah, you're perfect." you pull the covers back down, even when he tries to initiate a brutal tug-of-war match, which you win, obviously. "grandpa, come on, it's almost ten-thirty." 

"i thought we made a rule that none of you can wake me up in the morning." 

"the rule was that we let you sleep in on sundays. and you're already awake. the kids want breakfast." 

"i know they already ate," satoru's eyes are blinding, "tsumiki told me." 

"well, i want to eat. get up." 

"go cook." 

"get up." 

"can't you see that i need to rest?" he gestures to his face, which looks typical and annoyed. "don't i look sick?" 

you pinch his arm. "i recall someone saying that they were impenetrable, and trivial illnesses wouldn't affect them." 

"i was wrong." 

"as usual," you give him a sweet smile. 

tsumiki and megumi have both crept up on the two of you, watching as you poke his cheek, trying to get a rise out of him. 

it's really not your fault that he looks cute with his hair smushed against his face, slightly sweaty. 

you always have preferred a disheveled satoru. when he's forgotten to put all of the pieces together. 

actually, grumpy, just-awake satoru might be your favorite. your teenage self certainly had a fondness for him. 

though you choose to believe that your tastes in men have since improved (they haven't, nor have they changed). 

"i just wanna sleep," he whines. "please?" 

"no. get up, because i don't want to hear your moaning while i'm trying to work." 

"you can't hear it from the office," satoru hisses, "and it's sunday. go take a nap." 

"i'll be sure to do that, right after i shove a toothbrush in your mouth." 

"go away," he moans, childishly, and turns on his side. "i feel like someone cut me in half. am i bleeding through the sheets? i don't think my organs are intact." 

you make a face. "that's disgusting. please don't talk about your organs in public. i thought this was a safe space." 

satoru huffs, but doesn't say anything back. 

"aww," you coo, while tsumiki climbs up the other side of the bed, putting her face right next to his. megumi lingers at your side. "is our baby sick?" 

"yes." 

"what does a sick baby need, guys? i don't remember." 

"a lobotomy," megumi whispers. 

you turn to him, eyes wide. "who taught you--actually. i already know," you look pointedly back to satoru, who's frowning. 

"i shared those thoughts with you in confidence," satoru hisses to megumi, and covers his face with a pillow this time. 

"cuddles, right? that's what you do when we're sick." 

you smile at tsumiki. "what a wonderful idea, miki. cuddles are exactly what baby needs." 

and so, with the grace of a thousand kangaroos, you jump on satoru, your body molding to his as you come face to face with the man, legs over his side, arm wrapping around his neck. 

satoru is very close, close enough that you almost can't tell that he's glaring at you. 

he's pretty like this, with gleaming skin and dull eyes. 

"was that supposed to hurt? because it didn't." 

it doesn't escape your notice that you can finger his cheekbones while he says this, no space between the two of you, and neither does the slight twitch of his lips. oh, yeah, you know satoru like this. with his attitudes and his lies. 

and you know, really, that this is exactly what he wants. attention, as per usual.  

"oh, good." you tug at his hair a bit with your other hand. "we've still got room. come on, children, we have to help our baby." 

tsumiki giggles, and she joins you, her face on your back as she lays on top of the two of you, barely a leaf in the pile. you can feel her smile against your muscles and you sigh out. "i think it's working." 

you tilt your head to look at megumi, who's staring at the three of you with a look of distaste on his face. "c'mon, megs. we need you." 

he gives you a 'really?' look, to which you respond with a nose scrunch, but eventually, he sighs. and then he promptly sits on satoru's feet, setting a hand on your legs so you know that he's there. 

"how are you feeling now, baby?" 

"smushed." 

"good. exactly how we like you." you nuzzle into his neck, breathing him in. he actually smells quite nice--and not that you'll admit it, but he doesn't have morning breath, the bastard. 

"are you sad?" tsumiki asks, softly, still concerned, but brighter now. she likes this almost as much as satoru. 

"yes," he huffs, again. 

but you all know he's lying, and when you dig your finger into his side, tickling him, the kids are quick to follow. 

work will have to wait. this is much more important. 

*

next part | series masterlist

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

[barrenclan]

PATFW: Animal Name Systems

As more non-Clan characters get introduced to the story, I’ve been having fun coming up with the naming systems for various animals. In real life there would probably be more natural variety within a whole species, but also making up little systems is fun so I don’t care. Also, as a technical note, obviously none of these names are in “English”. They’re in whatever language animals speak. So, like, Hacksaw is not literally “hacksaw”, it’s the animal word for that object. 

Cats - with the exception of warriors (who obviously have an incredibly specific naming system), cat names tend to be more loose, and can be named after many things. In general, they are shorter. House cats are also an exception, as they are named by people and so their names can be very different. Ex. Cashew, Summer, Rowan, Egret, Thrasher, Jackalope

Wolves and coyotes - like cats, wolves also have a more loose naming system. Often wolves are named after someone else, to honor them. Coyote communities are heavily linked to wolf communities, so their rules are similar. In general, they are longer. Ex. Coldbreath, Nightshade, Lucky-Foot, Antlerhorn, Ranger

Deer - deer are always named after plants. No exceptions to this. Often the plants are ones that the parents admire or enjoy. Ex. Wild Rose, Juniper, Hyssop, Maple, Lingonberry

Mountain lions - they are named after some kind of aspirational trait at birth that their parent is hoping they fulfill. Sometimes this leads to funny, ironic circumstances, but usually the kitten is shaped by their name and strives to embody it. Ex. Ferocity, Swiftness, Cunning, Power, Caution

Porcupines - for the first year of their life, porcupine kits are named after the order in which their mother gave birth to them. Ex. First, Second, Third, etc. When the porcupine has come of age, they are given their adult name. These names are short and functional, usually no more than four letters. Ex. Mud, Snap, Snow, Blue

Falcons - chicks are never given names by their parents, and are generally treated as indistinguishable when young. Once they leave the nest, falcons name themselves whatever they like. Frequently these names are inspired by human artifacts, as falcons (and many other bird cultures, as well as raccoons) value their liminal relationship to humans. Ex. Hacksaw, Highway, Black-Wing, Perils, Artemis

Bears - at birth, bears are given short, silly names, meant to be inconsequential. Ex. Fuzz, Seed, Bug, Baby. When they come of age, they are given an adult name by the eldest bear, whether it’s a large group or just a family. These names are structured as some kind of brag about the individual’s qualities, to impress others and display dominance. They are composed of two words in the trait separated by a hyphen. Ex. Longest-Claws, Fiercest-Roar, Strongest-Jaw, Thickest-Pelt. However, if the bear is disliked or considered weak, they can be also be called a version of this structure that is an insult. Ex. Dullest-Mind, Weakest-Strike, Softest-Heart. The greatest shame of all, though, is an adult bear forced to keep their childhood name. 

#lore

[steviewashere]

Rhetorics and Bad Days

Rating: General CW: None apply! Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Has a Bad Time, Steve Harrington is an Ugly Crier, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names, Forehead Kisses, Slight Love Confessions, Getting Together (Sorta Kinda/More Implied Afterwards)

Tripped and fell last night and wrote 3.2k words. Inspired by @scoops-aboy86 idea and my stupid little headcanon from this post!

💕—————💕

It seems like everyday was a bad day when you were somebody like Steve Harrington. Considering the good majority of his life the last four years, give or take, has been a cartwheel of nightmares and torture and blood and injuries—And, well. Obviously he has bad days.

Though, typically, it can be resolved and done over with a hot shower, maybe some stupid movie that he honk-laughs at, a warm blanket and a freshly dried pillowcase. Little things. Little good things that are able to calm him some, at least. Give him something else to think of, at most. He doesn’t have to do anything like cry or breakdown or yell until his voice is hoarse, that’s what he tells himself. Because, what’s been ingrained in his head, men don’t cry. Men don’t get hysterical. Men don’t break that emotional mold.

Though those words are definitely booming and deep and flat like his dad’s. That’s not his brain. Those aren’t his words. But it sure as hell is what he’s been exposed to for far too long.

And maybe that’s why, standing in the barren living room of his brand new (albeit worn down, caulked heavily, all too warm) apartment, he finds the rhetoric silenced. In a fresh space. With crooked blinds and awfully filled tack holes. A kitchen fit for a (former) king. Little breakfast nook that only allows for two dining chairs under the south facing windows. Barely any sunlight able to stream through. His bedroom cramped with just a queen sized mattress placed haphazardly on the floor, definitely crushing some well-loved Playboy magazines, crooked to the wall at his head because the movers carrying it were too tired from the recently odd mid-fall heat, and a decently sized freshly made spiderweb in the corner—he shivers at the thought of something alive and crawling watching him sleep at night. And the glorious bathroom—preemptively marked with darkened piss stains on the floor and a smell birthed from over-indulgence on alcohol. 

It’s his, though. Well, his and Eddie’s.

Eddie has his own bedroom, similar size to Steve’s (think of a shoebox used to bury that poor hamster from your youth, dead from eating too many baseball cards), ceiling light stained with god worshipping moths, and a window that half-opens if he jiggles it the right way. They share that grimy bathroom. And he brought the living room couch, something that had been sitting on his and Wayne’s back porch for some time, definitely a little mud stained and mildew smelling from rain, but it’s not the worst. Not the best. Not even good. But it’s their space, freed from the confines of Hawkins, new and shiny for all of Indianapolis to see.

The rhetoric is gone in Steve’s brain. Like skin shed from his sunburned body. Peeling and crackling to every surface he finds himself on or leaning against or standing with. It evades him. Leaves him with something viciously young and terribly hungry.

Steve Harrington is prone to bad days. Bad weeks. Bad things.

The unfortunate luck begins anew an exact week from when they move in.

October 20th, 1986 is his first day back at Family Video. He’d been transferred, referred much to Keith’s dismay, but probably his pleasure, too. (Considering how immediate his response had been to Steve’s question.) But it was his first day back. Didn’t need to be trained. Just hooked like a fish to deceased worm bait, thrown out to the river that is their block’s neighbors and strangers and mere acquaintances that feel no better or worse about having new people take residency on their street, but he’s also not reeled back in at the end of his shift. If anything, he’s tangled in his own wire, flopping, gasping for water, drying to the gravel by the shallow give of the river’s flow. He is stranded behind the register. Returning customers telling him he should know what they like, or what discount they need, or how many movies they’ve checked out previously. That he should know that a particular customer is friends with the owner of the Family Video he so sorely resides in. But he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. So he makes do. He powers through it. Feigns mundane annoyance like gum flavorless between his teeth, though he’s biting his tongue to not sob.

That’s not where the bad ends. No. Of course not.

He’s within walking distance to their apartment. Which should be fine. In fact, it’s incredibly handy because even if he were running late to work, he could blame it on something stupid. (‘My key broke off in the lock, had to bother the landlord.’ ‘Yeah, had a leak in the bathroom this morning, have to report it just in case it tries to flood the downstairs neighbors.’ ‘It’s odd, seems like the lock loves to devour my keys.’ Nervous laughter.) But just because he’s within walking distance does not mean that life is plainly simple. No, what happens is he gets soaked with dirty road rain water. Was it mentioned that it’s been raining all day? No? Well, it has been. And it’s a downpour. Forecast said it would happen tonight, not midday, not while he’s trying to power walk home so he can make the peanut butter and jelly sandwich of his dreams. But it does. Because of course. And some asshole, screaming out their window to tell him that he should’ve worn a raincoat, speeds by. Coating him from collarbone to toe in the mucky rainwater of a city that’s too busy for a place like bumfuck Indiana. At least in Hawkins everybody knows your name; at least they have the common decency to let you stroll on by before they make a major move like that. But in a city bustling with busy, selfish, awful people—because aren’t all city inhabitants like this, should he have realized something like this was bound to happen? Well, he did. Just didn’t think it would take less than a month for it to occur.

Sopping wet. Exhausted and burnt out. Hungry like a rabid stray dog. He walks briskly. Skipping over the cracks and lines in the sidewalk, no matter how much disdain he tastes for his mother. Missing freshly spat out gum by mere centimeters. Shoulder checking a few too slow pedestrians, their sneering faces burning into his back. And the next awful thing comes in like a planned prank on some mocking little sitcom show. Dog shit. Pure dog shit, brown and putrid and soft on the sole of his right Adidas Superstar. His brand new shoes. The shoes he got himself less than a month ago. Shoes that he had been eyeing for years, but couldn’t muster the courage or the reason to buy them. And now there’s dog shit on the bottom of his shoe. He smears it on the concrete, squishing it further into the ridges of his sole, scraping it against the harsh ground. Tries his best. Checks the bottom of the shoe precariously. And without missing a beat…topples down onto his ass, thankfully away from the smeared shit, but down onto the ground nonetheless. He prickles, stands up on his shaky legs, dusts off his ass, and storms the rest of the way home.

Maybe he shouldn’t slam the door. But it’s barely anything in comparison to the rest of his day. He shouldn’t do it. He knows that it could get them a noise complaint. Though, the way it vibrates against his back, settling deep into the wood, stepping out of his sneakers to wash in the tub in a few—it’s all too good. 

The anger begins to dissipate from him in just that small action.

Then, again like a well-mannered sitcom scene, in barrels Eddie from his bedroom. Arms crossed over his chest, hip popped to the side, harsh scowl to his face. “Man, are you fucking serious?” He spits.

“What?” Steve asks, panting, breathless, absolutely done with today. With tomorrow. With the rest of this week.

“I told you this morning that I was going to be studying in my room! All day! Told you that I wanted it to be quiet, and the first thing you do when you get home is slam the door shut?!” He growls. Snarling, he continues, “And what about the noise complaints?! We can’t afford any of those, we need this place! Could you not—“

Steve pushes past him, shoes in hand, work bag slung down like a bomb to the floor. Leaving its contents scattered. A copy of Airplane! on VHS, some stickers reading ‘Be kind, rewind’, measly three dollars, and his Family Video vest. All of it strewn about their place. Pooling murky water on the surface, just as Steve’s clothes were dripping everywhere else. He closes himself in the bathroom, but doesn’t lock the door. In fact, that stupid fucking lock doesn’t even work. Nothing works. He stays in there anyway. Really, they should clean in here. Clorox the hell out of every surface. Maybe see if the piss stains will come up with a harshly gripped mop. But instead of those important things, he tosses his sneakers into the bathtub, and sits with his head in his hands on the closed toilet lid. Mushy socks to the tiled floor. Pants uncomfortably drying and chafing on his legs. Underwear like a second skin to his balls. His polo tight across his back and terribly moist.

Shoves his palms harsh into his eyes and whistles through his nose. “Fuck,” he mutters, lip wobbling with the word.

A tentative knock to the door startles him. “Steve?” Eddie’s voice rings out. It’s murmured, careful, testing the syllables on his tongue. “Hey, can I come in? I’m—“ He sighs, the anger he had before blowing away from him. “I’m sorry,” he sincerely apologizes. “I’m sorry that my first instinct was to get mad. I—“

“Just come in,” he croaks. It’s not very loud, but it must be enough because Eddie pushes the door open mere seconds later.

He sighs, mouth downturning when he sees Steve on the toilet. Meekly holds up Steve’s also brand new messenger bag. Stained like the tiled flooring under their socked feet. It’s sodden and depressing. “Hey,” he mutters. 

Steve just hums in return. Looking up to Eddie from the toilet, he must be a sorry sight. All soaking wet, spine hunched and scrunched in a horrifically twisted amalgamation, hair limp in his eyes. Something has to read on him for Eddie to be gazing at him the way he is. All big eyes and sorry mouth and his shoulders slouched like he’s admitting defeat. Part of Steve doesn’t want him to, wants him to keep getting riled, yelling about their lease and the slammed doors and the forgetfulness that seems to flow through Steve just as easily as blood. Wants to be called names. Wants to have a non-delicate conversation about how much of a screw-up he is, how he should’ve listened to his father and never moved away, why he’s a disaster of a person. Tell Steve all the ways in which he’s deserving of the bad days. Deserving of their frequency. Deserving of misery.

“Are you—No, you probably aren’t, but I’m asking anyway. Are you okay, Steve?”

That—Well, that breaks something in him. The final block on his wobbling tower of everything and too much. Under his skin, like weak twigs, his ribs are snapping. Crumbling beneath him to make room for the way his lungs expand with the need to gasp. The need to hiccup his way through a terrible explanation.

His mouth twitches, lips pursing. Looks away. “I—“ Steve rasps. “No,” he sobs.

Warmth crowds him, all too sudden and all too much. Hands gravitating to his magnetic pull. Squeezing his shoulder and pushing back his stringy hair. Though, immediately and dizzyingly, he is reminded of that stupid rhetoric. He shouldn’t follow it. Shouldn’t even allow it to have the vice grip it does on his brain.

But he shakes Eddie off, standing uneasily from the toilet, walking around him. He paces into the kitchen, hungry and shaking and needed to do something. Get his energy out one way or another. Fight off the tears, no matter how relieving they would be. Clatters through the cupboards. Finds the cheap, shitty, generic white bread. And an already half-eaten jar of peanut butter, odd peaks and valleys in it as if somebody’s been chowing down on it with a spoon. That doesn’t matter, though. At least there’s any peanut butter at all.

Eddie’s not too far behind him. Standing in the kitchen’s entryway, hands floating in front of him, reaching out for Steve. “Hey, Stevie, I can make you a sandwich. Y’know, if you want to change out of your clothes. Must be uncomfortable,” he’s placating.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Steve lies to himself. Because he needs this to be true. Just this one good thing. One thing he can do for himself. Make something he wants to eat. Something he’s been thinking about all day. Something that plasters an easy enough smile to his already half-puffy face, tears encroaching and sobs clawing their way up to his throat. But when he grabs for the jelly, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He slams the door of the fridge closed. No jar in sight. Not a single kind. No marmalade or strawberry jam or even the nasty grape jelly he bought for when Robin visits. There’s nothing. “Are you—“ He groans, huffs, and hiccups.

Attempting to cover himself, he shoves his hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes.

The one thing he can’t let Eddie see, because crying is going to happen whether Steve likes it or not, is that he’s an ugly crier. The ugliest, and he knows that. All bubbled snot and dripping its residue over his top lip. Lips bitten red raw from muffling the sobs. Spit burbled in the corners of his mouth. Choking on wet gasps, hiccuping with his whole body, trying to drink the air around him. Skin going splotchy red and hideously swollen, the swelling still apparent even two hours later.

With the first sob, he knows it won’t be possible to hide this breakdown. Eddie’s already inching closer, hands still out in front of him. Steve is a wounded animal, it seems like. He cries loud and shameful, mouth dropped open, his saliva bubbling between his teeth. Already choking on his first gasp.

“It’ll be alright, Stevie,” Eddie tries to soothe, “We can get more jelly, it’s alright.”

“No,” Steve cries, “No! It’s not—“ A series of short, hiccuping, wet gasps. Followed then by a snotty snort, bubbled and causing his breath to whistle. “Such a bad day,” he attempts to explain, voice keening, high pitched in the back of his throat. “Everybody was so mean—Clothes are—All wet and gross—“ Heavy swallow like trying to consume large shards of glass. He flaps his hands at his sides, scrunching them, trying to squeeze himself back to his ordinary box. But instead, more snorting sobs leave him.

Eddie places a warm hand on the back of Steve’s neck. Thumb digging into a knot that’s forming. He puts his other palm on his bare arm, coaxing him over to one of the dining chairs. Settles him down and crouches in front of his sob-riddled, hiccuping, contorting body. Holding Steve’s face with one hand, he reaches for the crumpled bandana in his back pocket, raising it between them. “Look at me, Stevie baby,” he murmurs, “Let me help you.” Steve drags his eyes away from where they’d been zeroed in on the floor. Locking with Eddie’s own sad and soft gaze. “There you are,” Eddie whispers. He gently strokes Steve’s cheek with the edge of his bandana. Gliding it over his skin, patting at the drying tear tracks. His other hand, thumb wedged near the corner of Steve’s mouth, wipes away at the spittle. “I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he mutters, “But we’ll get it back on track, alright? You’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise you’ll be okay.”

Steve’s lips wobble. “I thought you were mad,” he nasally whispers. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Stopping his slow and careful work, Eddie stares in heartbreaking dismay. “You deserve nice things, Steve. It doesn’t matter that I was mad. I’m not mad anymore.” And then he runs his bandana over the snot trails under Steve’s nose. Looking on with an odd mix of sadness and reverence. Thumb not even wiping anything away anymore, simply caressing over Steve’s heated, swollen skin.

He swallows glass again. Blinks sluggishly. Calmed down, oddly. This is probably the quickest cry he’s ever had. He chuckles, “God, I’m such an ugly crier, man.” Sighs. “Can’t believe you’re willingly wiping at my snot right now. ’T’s nice.”

“Stop being so hard on yourself, sweetheart. I don’t even think you’re ugly.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“What—I’m being honest!” Eddie quietly exclaims. He shifts the hand on Steve’s jaw, palm cupping his cheek, fingers splayed over his ear, holding him in a sweet yet fragile way. “Steve, you’re, like, gorgeous. I hate seeing you so upset, but you’re like an angel or something when you cry.” He draws his bandana away, but brings it back to cover the end of Steve’s nose. “Blow into this,” he instructs. And so Steve does, blowing out whatever didn’t already leave him in his crying episode. Eddie pulls it back again, not even grimacing at what is surely a squelching snot-covered mess in his hand. He massages his fingers into the hair around Steve’s ear. Gazing. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, reiterating. “And you deserve nice things, especially after what a clusterfuck of a day you must’ve had. And you deserve to breakdown every once in a while. Don’t have to hide just because you think you shouldn’t cry or because you’re ‘ugly’ or whatever.”

“Thanks, Eds,” Steve squeaks. Face flushing with heat, gratefully not from tears. He flashes a small smile, modest but there, for the first time today. “You really mean all that? Even when you called me sweetheart?”

Eddie is bashful, smile stretching, going red in the face, tilting his head as if assessing. But the lovesick sheen to his eyes says he’s already made up his mind. “Yeah,” he murmurs, careful and devoted, “yeah, baby. I do mean all that I said.”

“Can I have one more good thing?” Steve tentatively asks.

“What’s that?”

He touches between his eyebrows. “Forehead kiss?” (And sure, maybe he does pout a little, but can you blame him?)

Eddie, without missing a beat, leans forward, fiercely cupping Steve’s cheek, pressing a slightly damp kiss to Steve’s skin. Then under his eyes. The tip of his nose. Corner of his mouth. Pulls back, whispering, “You can have all the kisses you want, sweetheart.” Still caressing Steve, he offers, “How ‘bout I go get you some new jelly while you take a warm bath? And when you’re out, clean clothes and not shivering, we can curl up on the couch and watch that movie you got?”

“Okay,” Steve mutters.

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs back. He presses one more kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Let’s make this a good day, baby.”

💕—————💕

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington is an ugly crier #hurt/comfort

[athena-xox]

Ever After High Slang Dictionary

Just the canon words mentioned in The Story Book of Legends, The Unfairest Of Them All & A Wonderlandiful World by Shannon Hale. Some words might now be perfect translations and some have multiple meanings that I have put down. Anyways I plan to update this with the rest of the books.

Bat wings and slug tails: things of value, typically for witches

Bewitching

Bffa: bff

Big, Bad: prefix to anything in large quantity or ideology

Book-to-school: back to school

Call Of Beauty: call of duty

Castleteria: cafeteria

Charm/charming

Charmitorium: auditorium

Charm you later: see you later

Chemythstry: chemistry

COL: evil LOL. stands for cackle out loud

Crownculous: calculus

Crownglasses

Crowning

Curses: general profanity

Deuce: general profanity

Disenchanting

Enchanting

Fableous: fabulous

Fairest

Fairy: very (also used for just ‘fairy’)

Fairy-fail

Fairy’s sake: I believe in my heart this is equivalent to fucks sake. General profanity

Four-and-twenty-blackbirds-baked-in-a-pie: hot

Grandma’s sake: Pete’s sake, Christs sake etc

Grimmnasium: gymnasium

Grimmnastics: gymnastics

Hatchling: baby/child

Hex/hexes: general profanity

Hexes: taxes

Hexcellent: Excellent

Hexciting: exiting

Hext: text

Hextbook: textbook

Hextreme: extreme

Hocus Focus

Home evilnomics: home ec but evil

Huffs and Puffs: bad and also good? ‘It’s huffs and puffs’ is used for both good and bad things

Hybrid carriage: hybrid car

Just right

Lost and Crowned: lost and found

Lulla-binary: binary

Mani-curse: manicure

Mirrorcast: broadcast

Mirrorize: digitalize

Mirror Lab: computer lab (I think)

Mirror Network/Net: internet

MirrorPhone: iPhone

MirrorPad: iPad

MirrorPod: iPod

Mirror station: computer?

Mother-goosebumps: goose bumps

Muse-ic: music

Newfangled: new but in a bad way

Nice as mice

Nursery rhyme: baby

nursery-rhyme school: preschool/elementary

Pea under the bed: stick in the mud

Pedi-curse: pedicure

Princess pea-butter sandwich: peanut butter sandwich

Royal student council: student council

Spella: hella

Spellbinding

Spells: used as a general ‘oh’. And general profanity

Sticky as porridge

Study Ball: study hall

The End: goodbye

Thronework: homework

Tiara-thlon: triathlon

Toadstools: general profanity

Unfairest

Venus Fairy Trap: Venus fly trap

What-ever-after: whatever

What’s Upon-ing: what’s up

Wicked

Any time there’s an ‘ever’ in a sentence but ‘after’, after it. And any time there’s ‘after’ in a sentence but ‘ever’ before it

#ever after high #eah #eah dictionary #eah slang #ever after high slang #Ever after high dictionary

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Thomas-Alexandre Dumas:

“mustache”

“Tall! Daring! Swashbuckling! A devoted husband and father! Had a personal conflict with Napoleon! Also it was said he could, while holding onto a bar above his head, LIFT A HORSE WITH HIS THIGHS. How is he not on this list ten times already! Vote for General Dumas!”

“He was so hot that he inspired The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, and many more books that his son, Alexandre Dumas, wrote. He definitely looked the part of a sexyman, as he son recounts in his memoirs: "My father, as already stated, was twenty-four, and as handsome a young fellow as could be found anywhere. His complexion was dark, his eyes of a rich chestnut colour [...]. His teeth were white, his lips mobile, his neck well set on his powerful shoulders, and, in spite of his height of five feet nine inches, he had the hands and feet of a woman. These feet were the envy of his mistresses, whose shoes he was very rarely able to put on." He could crush you between his thighs: "His free colonial life had developed his strength and prowess to an extraordinary degree; he was a veritable American horse-lad, a cowboy. His skill with gun or pistol was the envy of St. Georges and Junot. And his muscular strength became a proverb in the army. More than once he amused himself in the riding-school by passing under a beam, and lifting his horse between his legs." He was so badass he could beat 13 men with 4 and take all the enemy prisoner, and defend against hundreds of men on a bridge by himself. He performed these acts of valour numerous times in Italy. He was so formidable that the Austrians named him the "Schwartz Teufel", or the Black Devil, and his feat at the bridge earned him the moniker of "Horatius Cocles of Tyrol". He wasn't afraid to stand up to his morals and protest against unfair treatment. When unjust executions by the guillotine were happening outside his quarters, he closed the blinds of his curtains, earning him the nickname "Mr. Humanity". When in the Vendée, he complained about the wanton indiscipline in his troops. When in Italy, Berthier wrongly reported his actions as one of "observation" in St. Antonio. Dumas wrote to General Bonaparte that if Berthier was in the same position, he would have shit his pants. Dumas abhorred plunder, never exhorted the locals, and ordered the Directory agent who had come to persuade him otherwise be shot if he dared present himself to Dumas again. Integrity and a sense of moral justice is sexy, mark my words. For Dumas' final qualifier as a sexyman, look no further than this Tumblr heritage post (https://www.tumblr.com/petermorwood/133803437020/hortensevanuppity-elodieunderglass), with 300,000 notes and counting. And I quote: "- daddy general dumas was an immense fierce french warrior who was a 6 foot plus, stunningly gorgeous and charismatic Black gentleman - he invaded egypt - the native egyptians said “is this napoleon? this must be napoleon. we for one welcome our majestic new overlord” - then napoleon showed up - napoleon has all the presence of yesterday’s plain Tesco hummus - the native egyptians were like “… no… no, we’ve thought very hard and we’ll have General Dumas actually” - this did not make napoleon happy - in fact it made him jealous - napoleon felt so emasculated that he launched a campaign of revenge against General Dumas, including taking away his pension, that probably inspired a lot of Alexandre’s rather satisfying scenes in which fathers are nobly avenged and the money-grubbing villains are rubbed in the mud" I rest my case. Tl;dr: He was so hot he inspired multiple books, he was a stronk man who could crush you between his thighs or carry you like a sack of potatoes, and he was so badass that he could take on odds of 1 to 3. He had a foul mouth but a heart of gold and his actions were never self-serving. Posts relating to him on Tumblr have had 300,000 notes and counting. He is qualitatively and quantitatively qualified to be a sexyman.”

Bon-Adrien Jeannot de Moncey

“Honesty and integrity (letter to Louis XVIII against sitting for Ney's court-martial, getting imprisoned for 3 months for it). Very sexy. Defending the capital (Paris) is also very sexy.”

[cdragons]

❄️ Imagine Being Luwin's Apprentice & Childhood Friends with Robb, Jon, and Theon ❄️

-> This will include headcanons about all Starks, but focus on these three dorks towards the end.

A/N: There's an utter lack of for our Kings of the North and Kraken, so this is my attempt to add to it. These might be a bit lengthy.

Here's the general dynamic of you, Robb, Jon, and Theon. I put in Hogwarts House Terms, but I in no way support JK Rowling.

Robb - Gryffindor

Jon - Hufflepuff

Theon - Slytherin

You - Ravenclaw

In the simplest terms, you hold the only brain cell.

-> Let's say you were a low-born girl on a trek to Winterfell so you could learn under Maester Luwin. You were a rare kind of low-born who knew how to read, and you wanted to learn more. Your parents didn't approve and tried to sell you off, so you ran away with a small travel sack of your journal, clothes, and some food. You cut your hair and wore breeches to look like a boy.

-> It took many days and nights, but you eventually made it to Winterfell and refused to leave until you met with Lord Eddard Stark. Needless to say, ol' Ned Stark was shocked to find the person demanding his presence was a four-foot-tall dirty child with feet caked in mud and steely eyes. He asked if something happened to your family and you immediately deeply bowed and asked if you could learn under Maester Luwin before fainting from a high fever.

-> While treating you and finding out that you were a girl, Luwin looked through your tiny journal and was shocked to find you knew your letters and could write better than his lord's children and ward. He read the passages you wrote while traveling. You drew pictures of different plants and animals and wrote your observations of them. Luwin decided right then and there that he would take you in as an apprentice. When you woke up, he told you the good news, and you were so happy you jumped in the air with a loud "WHOOP" before tackling the old man down with a hug.

-> Ned was a bit unsure, but he trusted Luwin's judgment. If his oldest advisor told him that he believed that you had great potential as a scholar, he believed him. When you were brought over to meet Lord and Lady Stark, you were shocked at how tall and imposing Ned looked. "ARE YOU A GIANT? DO YOU OWN THIS CASTLE?" were your first words to the man as a huge smile spread across your face. After being shocked for a few moments, Ned threw his head back and laughed harder than he had in ages. He patted your head and ruffled your hair. "No child, I'm no giant. But I am the lord of this castle, and your lord, too."

-> Catelyn was much more skeptical because what kind of low-born child learned how to read? When she led you to your new chambers, she asked you this, and you proudly answered her. "I taught myself! There was a traveler passing through my village one day, and I nicked his books and charcoal!" At her horrified expression, you made sure to clarify that he was already dead and you didn't take his money. That didn't really calm her down, but her husband already decided to let Luwin take you in as an apprentice, so you might as well learn how to dress and speak like a lady.

-> Jon was the first Stark child you befriended. Luwin ordered you to take a break from your lessons since you've been holed up reading and writing nonstop. You found him practicing alone in the courtyard, hitting a training dummy with a wooden sword. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" you shouted to him. Your voice startled him so much that he dropped his sword to the ground and jumped like three feet into the air. "I'm training," he answered, and when you asked if you could stay and watch, he agreed. He was shy at first, but you and he built a quick and strong friendship after a couple more times you watched him train. There would be times you convinced him to take a break from his training, and you two would explore Winterfell's nooks and crannies. Jon didn't expect to like you so quickly, but you made it too easy.

-> Strangely enough, Theon was the second boy of the trio you would meet and befriend. It didn't go as smoothly as you meeting Jon. Theon thought you were one of the new maids-in-training and decided to tease you by tugging your hair and trying to scare you with stories about his Ironborn family coming to raid and burn keeps and steal rude pretty little girls. You just shrugged and told him, "I'll just cut my hair and pretend to be a boy. I'll even not bathe to smell like one - not the first time I did that." You then asked him if he knew more stories about mermaids and if Nagga's bones really made up the Grey King's Hall on Old Wyk. From there on, it became very noticeable to everyone that although Theon was Robb's shadow, he was only really soft with you.

-> Robb was the last to meet you. His mother didn't like the idea of her son meeting and befriending a low-born girl. But one day, he got hurt and went to visit Luwin. Imagine his surprise to see a girl his age sitting with Luwin as she read from books too hard for him to read. Luwin introduced the two of you, and you asked if you could help treat Robb this time since you felt ready. Very quickly, you treated his wounds. From then on, Robb would see you before seeing Luwin. He liked how close you got when you told him what you've learned under Luwin. He liked being close enough to you that he could smell your hair. It upset him to know that Theon and Jon knew about you before he did, but his ire quickly went away when you agreed to be his friend.

-> Ever since you began your lessons under Septa Mordane, you learned the benefits of knowing your stitches since you could use this skill to treat wounds and lower the risk of infection. You didn't care so much as the other stuff, but you quickly learned the most complicated and intricate stitches, which got the septa's approval. Whenever you had time to play with the boys again, you would always carry some needle and thread with you. You'd also carry boiled vinegar if you needed a disinfectant and a balm for wound care. This proved to be EXTREMELY useful as you four continued to play and grow older.

-> Because you were learning lessons under Luwin and the septa, you had to learn how to stitch, dress, act, and talk like a lady. Lady Stark grew very fond of you, as you were surprisingly complacent and took to acting more ladylike very quickly. This was not going unnoticed by the boys, and soon, it was very quickly becoming apparent to everyone but you that the three eldest boys of Winterfell were utterly besotted with you. At this point, Luwin thought you were like a daughter and his family. He loved you very much and warned you to be careful around your friends. He encouraged you to spend more time with Sansa, Arya, and other girls your age.

-> It frustrated you, but you still listened. You didn't know what the fuss was all about. Theon, Robb, Jon, and you were friends. Yep. Just friends. No hormonal teenage feelings emerging.

-> When Bran and Rickon were old enough, you quickly became as involved in their lessons as Luwin had been for the boys. You made their lessons fun and memorable for the young boys. Luwin looks at you with so much love and pride when the boys tell him about your lessons and how happy and excited they always act whenever you teach them something new. You've even made sums and history seem fun! You were also very involved with Sansa and Arya's education. They had Septa Morgane, but they also wanted to learn under you, and before you knew it, you were teaching four children - all younger than you.

-> Rickon and Arya absolutely worshiped you. You always had time to play with Rickon and never sent him away if you were busy like his mother and father had to sometimes. For Arya, she loved how you never thought her strange and weird for being so different from Sansa. These two followed you like ducklings whenever they had free time. The sight greatly amused Ned and Catelyn, as they thought it was the funniest thing to see how two young wolves are so dedicated to following you. And you being close doesn't go unnoticed by the boys.

-> Robb and Jon would stare at you with so much longing whenever you carried Rickon in your arms and sang him lullabies. They'd grow stupidly jealous that you could kiss Rickon and Bran's cheeks and foreheads to wish them goodnight or ease their pains if they tripped or fell. They would fantasize what their lives would be like if they could court you and take you as their wife. But it could never be.

-> Robb must marry a highborn noble lady as his father's heir to continue House Stark's legacy and ensure the North's safety. He knew this fact his whole life, but knowing that you couldn't be the one he took as a wife hurt him so much. To him, you embodied all the necessary qualities to be a Lady Stark: your kindness, beauty, wit, and intellect—just to name a few. Robb would try to impress you by escorting you to feasts held in the Great Hall and remaining by your side to joke and dance with you. After every dance, he'd take your hand and lay a gentle kiss on it as you would laugh and playfully shove him. Sometimes, when the feasts got too noisy and loud, he and you would sneak to just hang out in the kitchens. He would always get a stern talking-to with his mother for not talking with other ladies, but he only wanted you. Besides, how could he regret spending the entire feast beside you with your body pressed so close to his?

-> Growing up with Jon, you obviously knew about his bastard status. But you always told him that his name "Snow" didn't matter because he was among the most wonderful and sweetest people you've ever met. Sometimes, you'd successfully manage to take his mind off it, but there were days when it felt like the entire world was staring at him for it. Either Lady Catelyn said something very cruel and hurtful to him, or Theon poked too much fun at him. On these days, you'd take a few pastries or fruits from the kitchens that you stole, grab his hand, and hide away in the Godswoods. You would share your treats and talk about everything you've learned under Luwin. Sometimes, you'd have a book with you and read him your favorite stories about magic and dragons until the sun goes down. Jon won't really have much to say. He'll nod and smile and laugh, and sometimes he'll sneak glances and wonder how could someone look so beautiful and perfect in the sunset?

-> Theon decided it was better to go about the Ironborn way and "steal" you from whatever you were doing or whomever you were with. He'd go get you whenever you were with Septa Mordane and say that Luwin had called for you or if one of the younger Starks was asking about you. He'd get you out, and two seconds later, he and you were taking walks in Winter Town and goofing off. He'd also pull some dumb teenage boy pranks to get your attention. He'd tease you by asking you questions when you're off guard and make you say embarrassing answers. When you finally realize what you said, you would get insanely flustered and whack him while he laughs. But unlike with others, he'll actually apologize to you and make it up to you by showing you how to shoot an arrow. But honestly, it's just an excuse for him to get close to you. He likes to "help" by positioning your arm and standing extra close.

A/N: I got tons more planned but I didn't want to make it too long! But please comment or reblog to let me know what you think or if you have ideas you want to drop in my ask box!

#robb stark x reader #jon snow x reader #theon greyjoy x reader #got x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagines #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #robb stark imagine #jon snow imagine #theon greyjoy imagine

[psychosith]

Echo

cal kestis x reader

summary: despite being close for years, you and cal go your separate ways after a particularly harsh argument. cal doesn’t see or hear of you for a long time, but stumbles across an old jacket of yours that reveals something to him

warnings: angsttttt, yelling/arguing, injuries, death, perhaps ooc!mean cal

a/n: i’m so sorry to the reqs sitting in my drafts ive had no motivation😭 specifically to the person who requested modern!anakin @ a halloween party it’s a little late for that now i feel like…. but anyways y’all might not know this but i’m obsessed w our boy cal and UGH. this prompt from @fallen-vic just struck me right and i had to get writing right away

the last four months had been a blur.

one second you were stripping an old star destroyer on bracca with cal, and the next he was fighting an imperial inquisitor while you cowered away in the corner. then you had boarded a ship with a lanky woman and abrasive latero. they had taken you to a planet hidden from the empire, a place where you thought you and cal could live safely. you couldn’t have been more wrong.

cal returned from the temple on bogano that first day talking about restoring the jedi order and a holocron? from there, it was all downhill. back and forth between kashyyyk, zeffo, and dathomir, all the while cal was forced to face strong enemies that left him on the brink of death every day. and you were tasked with patching him up at the end of every mission.

too many times have you entered his rooms while he was preparing to leave again and begged him to stay. it was always the same answer- i’ll be back before you know it. he couldn’t know, though, the feelings you harbored for him. he couldn’t understand how it pained you physically to watch him leave and come back beaten and bruised. but you stayed, because you loved him, and because you believed he wanted you with him.

it was all too much for you today. it seemed insane; they were planning to infiltrate the fortress inquisitorius and retrieve the holocron. you had stopped on a small planet to stock up on supplies before the big mission, and you were in your usual position: pleading with cal.

“cal, please,” you begged, tears welling up in your eyes. “this is just- it’s too dangerous cal! i mean, an imperial fort, for fucks sake! cal, if you didn’t come back from this… i don’t know-“

he cut you off with a reassuring hand on your arm. “y/n, i’ll be alright. i’ll have cere with me, and i’m stronger than ever. trust me.”

“you say that every time, you know. and every time, without fail, you come back closer to death than i’ve ever seen you. cal, we’ve found you passed out in the mud on kashyyyk. we’ve found you slumped against a generator on zeffo with a blaster wound in your stomach. no one will be there to find you if things go wrong this time, cal.” you say numbly, vaguely aware that there’s nothing you can say to make him stay.

“you’re being dramatic.” he says plainly. “you have no reason to be worried. i always come back, y/n. this time will be no different. you need to calm down.”

you groan in frustration, at his naïveté. “no, cal! you don’t understand… how much it hurts to watch you go. and who knows where you would be without me to put your pieces back together.”

you hear him scoff and look down at your hands as tears finally fall down your cheeks. you can tell he’s stressed by the tension in his shoulders.

“without you? y/n, i don’t need you to do this.” his words hurt, but you try to tell yourself the mission is getting to his head, that he doesn’t mean what he’s saying.

“y/n,” he says, waving a hand in front of your face, “did you hear me? i. don’t. need. you. if you’re so worried about me, maybe you should just leave. then i wouldn’t be bothering you so much.” he stood up angrily and marched off.

was he being honest? did he really want you to leave? all these years you had told yourself that he needed you with him, but maybe you had been mistaken.

you didn’t give yourself time to think. cere and greez had both made it clear that your presence on the mantis was unnecessary, and now that cal had said the same you had to go. you only packed the bare essentials: a canister of water, a couple weeks of rations, and a thick jacket for cold nights. you left through the front entrance without a word to anyone. cal simply watched you go.

a year later - cal's pov

there was no use in trying to hide it, it had been a hard year for cal. a year made much harder by your absence. he had tried to tell himself that you leaving was your decision, that it wasn't his fault. but as he played the argument over in his mind he found himself regretting everything he'd said. cal had been nervous, scared even, of the upcoming mission in the fortress. he'd let trilla and the empire get in his head, and it had cost him everything.

even after he'd retrieved the holocron - and ultimately destroyed it - he never searched for you. he didn't know why. the urge had struck him many times, but he never knew where to begin looking or what he would say to get you back.

it hurt even now, as cal lay in his bunk on the mantis weeping silently to himself. the mantis was empty, the engine humming softly as it flew through hyperspace. all the lights were out and cal's pillow was damp with tears. he hesitantly rose from his bed, staggering to the navigation panel in a sleep-deprived stupor. his cheeks are stained and his hair is tousled as he falls back into the pilot's chair, and he plugs the coordinates to a forgotten outer rim planet into the navigation system.

cal was exhausted, hungry, and mentally drained, but he managed to make it back to his bunk before he passed out.

. . .

something in the cockpit beeped quite loudly, waking cal from his sleep and alerting him that they were nearing their destination. the royal blue color of nez peron was pleasing to the eye, but brought back painful memories for cal. this was where they had made their last supply run before heading toward the fortress. this was the last place he saw the love of his life.

landing the mantis was the easy part; finding you, not so much. cal started in the sparse cities, scanning cantinas and shops, asking about a y/n l/n at every apartment complex and inn. he began to lose hope as he neared the edge of the latest city. just then he remembered you talking absentmindedly as he worked on his lightsaber, saying how it was your dream to live in the forest and live off the lands. it sounded crazy at the time, but now it made sense.

with a newfound passion, cal began searching the forests and plains for you. each dead end made him want to find you more and more, but there were no signs of life anywhere he looked.

one day, he was scanning the ground for any human tracks when a piece of fabric caught his eye. it was dusty, black, and oddly familiar. there were pieces of the same fabric just a little further up the trail he was following. up ahead, cal could just make out the shape of your thick winter coat on the ground.

his steps picked up into a light jog as he neared the jacket. as he examined it closer, he saw a dark stain had dried down on the stomach, and when he bent over to pick it up he was flooded with a powerful force echo.

_______

you had misjudged how hard life in the wild would be. the coat you wore did almost nothing to keep you warm, the water you brought only lasted for a few days, and the rations you thought would last had gone bad within the month. you were cold and hungry, and had only a pairing knife to ward off any threats in the forest. this would be a crucial mistake.

it was a particularly cold day and you were resting against a tree when you heard the crunch of leaves and the distinct mechanical whirring of an electrostaff. raiders. well, just one this time. it was a difficult feat, but you managed to ward off the raider not without sustaining many injuries. you had garnered a deep wound in your thigh and a large gash in your shoulder, luckily most of your vital organs were intact.

you hardly had time to catch your breath before a large mammal had sprung up from a ditch and pinned you to the ground. you screamed and struggled for your knife. your wounds had impaired your fighting skills, and you didn’t last long before the predator had beaten you into the floor. it was so, so cold. you must have lost your jacket at some point. you supposed the animal had lost interest, as it wandered off back into the trees, leaving you in a pool of your own blood.

the sun set behind the trees and you were still laying there, unable to move, slowly succumbing to the cold embrace of death. you could form only one coherent thought in your adrenaline crazed mind, and thus it became your last word.

“cal”

_______

the memory was like a knife to the heart for cal. he was helpless as he watched you draw your last breath, only to utter his name before closing your eyes for the final time. it finally dawned on him.

you were dead.

cal fell to his knees beside your tattered coat, a broken cry escaping his lips. it was all his fault. if’s and should’ves ran circles around his mind, but he understood the depth of this. you were gone, stolen from this world far to soon. cal mourned. he sobbed into his hands for hours on end, cursing you for leaving, cursing cere and greez for letting you leave, and cursing himself for letting his love for you blind him. of course he needed you. he always would. but he couldn’t have you any more.

his mind was blurry as he frantically followed the path he was on, searching for your body. he tripped and stumbled down a leaf covered hill, where he saw you. you were exactly as you were in the force echo, but your cheeks were hollow and your skin was sickly green. you had been dead for a long time. cal ran to your body, crying your name. he hoisted you into his arms and wept into your dirty hair.

“i love you” he muttered softly, hoping that perhaps you could hear the words he was to cowardly to speak when you were alive.

a/n 2: BYE the ending is so rushed. sorry.

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #jedi survivor #jedi fallen order #star wars #star wars x reader #angst #hurt/no comfort #i'm sad #din djarin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader

[vanteguccir]

The right love for me | M.S.

Matt Sturniolo x fem!oc (Elena)

Summary: Where Elena and Matt grew up together, fell in love as kids but realized too late. Will there be any hope for them?

Warning: A little angst and mentions of cheating.

Word count: 4.5k

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Part 2

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Elena was born and raised in Boston, in a two-story house, next door to one of the most beautiful houses in the city, but not because of its external beauty, but because of who lived inside.

Elena grew up being the next-door neighbor of the Sturniolo triplets, she also studied at the same school as the three of them, these two factors made her and the trio become almost a fantastic quartet.

The four of them grew up together, ran down the street every day together, got dirty with dirt and mud on rainy days together, played cooking together (they were forced by her) and, best of all, they made mini "vlogs" together throughout their childhood and pre-adolescence, becoming literally inseparable.

Nick was Elena's confidant, always there to listen to her and give faithful advice to the girl, giving her a shoulder to cry on and a company to laugh when needed. Nick trusted Elena with his eyes closed and loved her with all his heart, so much so that she was the first one he came out to.

Chris was her partner in crime, the two grew up playing pranks on their parents, brothers (on his side) and neighbors. Chris saw Elena as his anchor, losing count of how many times he entered the girl's room through the window in the early hours of the morning to vent or just to be able to sleep with her company, dispelling his biggest fears.

Matt was a different case. Matt was the boy who took her as his date to every school dance and accompanied her to every friend's party. Matt was the boy who bought Elena flowers every week and took her to the city's summer amusement parks, always making sure to get her a different teddy bear. Matt was the boy who made her heart flutter, but also stay in a sacred calm; that made her body freeze, but also warm with affection. He was the one who introduced the feeling of love to her...

But who said he did anything about it? Despite acting almost like her boyfriend, Matt was afraid of rejection, after all, his heart belonged 100% to Elena and he couldn't bear having it completely stolen from him if she denied it. And that's why, out of a silly but genuine fear, he lost her.

At the age of 17, Elena moved to New York with her parents after her mother received a job offer that she couldn't refuse and that would open doors for her career. Seeing her leave was one of the hardest things Matt has been through, but the most painful was seeing her post on Instagram, 6 months after she left. Elena was dating, and it wasn't him.

Over time, things changed, the triplets moved to Los Angeles and grew dramatically on social media, becoming extremely well-known and loved on the Internet.

And Elena... well, Elena finished school and started International Relations at NYU, working at a coffee shop near her house so she could save money, since she was engaged. That's right, her boyfriend, Jeremy, of almost 2 years had asked her to marry him. It was a big shock and Elena had to think a lot before accepting, but it was her dream, to have a successful career and raise a family. Right?

Elena and Jeremy were in the middle of a month of decisions for the wedding, decoration, food, cake, clothes, etc., so Elena was feeling overwhelmed, it was a lot on her mind, and she found herself wondering if that was really what she wanted. Therefore, the girl (now woman) decided to pay a visit to her grandparents, who still lived in Boston. Cooling down in a place more than familiar to her seemed ideal now.

Elena just didn't expect that her grandmother would tell Mary Lou, and that Mary would tell Nick, who would tell his brothers, generating a secret collective trip to Boston. The triplets were dying to see Elena, after all, it had been 2 years since they had seen her best friend, or, in Matt's case, crush.

It was a Saturday morning when Elena landed in Boston, quickly grabbing her small suitcase and hailing a taxi at the airport's main pedestrian entry and exit gate, giving as her destination address her grandparents' house, which coincidentally, was on the same street where she grew up.

Elena planned to stay in Boston only until the next day, Sunday, since Monday she had classes again and she was going back to work, besides she knew that if she stayed much longer away from home, from Jeremy, he would lose his mind.

It didn't take long for Elena to arrive at her destination. The girl got out of the car after paying the taxi driver and took her suitcase from the trunk, thanking him once again before she knocked on the front door, waiting.

It was a big surprise for her when her grandfather opened the door and behind him were her best friends, Nick was holding a sign that said "WELCOME BACK, ELENA! WE MISSED YOU ♡", while Chris was holding three packets of her favorite candy in his hands and Matt held a bouquet of flowers that almost hid his red face, Elena wondered if it was from embarrassment or the heat from the summer.

The girl dropped the suitcase, bringing her right hand to her mouth, covering half of her surprised expression. She felt her eyes fill with tears, God, how she missed the three boys.

Next to her were her grandparents, with big smiles on their faces and bright eyes, watching her with a mix of affection and pride.

"Oh my God, you guys are crazy! What are you doing in Boston? I thought you were in LA!" Elena exclaimed, her voice cracking mid-sentence with high emotions.

"We were, but Grandma told our mom that you were coming here today and I couldn't handle missing my best friend anymore." Nick said as he placed the poster on the couch. He turned quickly and ran to the girl, hugging her tightly. The action seemed to wake Matt and Chris, who quickly moved and formed a mini line behind the oldest.

"Damn, you look old" Chris joked when his brother got out of the hug, laughing loudly when Elena hit his forehead. "Here, to sweeten your life." He scoffed, handing the candy packets to her.

"I have to check if these aren't sour candies, coming from you I expect everything." Elena joked, taking the candies and placing them on top of her suitcase. She opened her arms and hugged Chris momentarily.

Chris pulled away as they separated and positioned himself next to Nick, the two exchanging glances before turning their gaze to Matt.

"They're pink tulips, I hope they're still your favorites" Matt stepped forward, showing the full bouquet before handing it to her.

"Oh Matt, they're beautiful! Thank you" Elena received the bouquet, smelling them quickly and mentally punishing herself for blushing.

Matt smiled widely and watched her for a few seconds, only breaking out of his trance when he heard Elena's grandfather make a fake cough. The boy shook his head and walked away, lowering his gaze to the ground.

Elena quickly placed the bouquet on the coffee table and finally greeted her grandparents, placing kisses on their age-marked cheeks.

"Let's take these things to your room and make plans for the weekend!" Nick spoke loudly, throwing the candies to Chris and taking the small suitcase in his hands, before starting to climb the stairs without waiting for anyone.

Elena laughed loudly as she heard Chris swear at Nick as he bent down to pick up the packages that fell at his feet. Matt shook his head, smiling as he saw the girl take the bouquet with extreme delicacy.

The three following the oldest up the stairs.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Hours later, the quartet found themselves in the triplets parents car, parked at the Mc Donald's they grew up going to, while eating their favorite burguers and catching up on conversations. They spent the afternoon driving around the places they went when young, which made Elena's heart warm, she missed that, that feeling of calm, without any burden, without obligations or responsibilities, just the interest of being happy.

During that early morning, Elena woke up to the sound of rocks hitting her window, which she quickly recognized. What surprised her was that when she got up and approached the window it wasn't Chris there, but Matt.

"What are you doing here?" Elena asked in a whisper after opening her window, squinting her eyes as she tried to better see Matt's silhouette in the pitch black night.

"Let me in." Matt whispered back, ignoring her question as he looked down to check if he wasn't about to fall off the edge of the roof.

Elena sighed and walked to the side, giving Matt space to enter through the window, closing it shortly after to stop the night wind of entering the room.

"What are you doing here at this time?" Elena asked again, sitting on the edge of her bed and watching him.

"As if I didn't pay you visits in the early hours of the morning before." He responded smiling, sitting on the bed and dragging himself until his back was against the headboard and his legs were stretched out on the mattress. He slapped his hand on the space beside him, looking at Elena.

The girl sighed but smiled, following his silent request.

"I missed you" Matt commented. "It's strange to live life without you with us"

"I miss you too" Elena replied, looking at him. "It's strange to only keep in touch on the phone and find out about some things through social media" She continued, receiving a nod from the brunette.

"You still have them" Matt realized as he noticed all the teddy bears he got for Elena piled up on top of the dresser next to the closet.

"Of course I have them, why would I throw them away? They're cute and remind me that you're actually good at something" She scoffed, receiving a light push from the boy.

"As if you weren't rooting like crazy for me while I was trying to hit the game targets" He mocked back, seeing Elena roll her eyes with a big smile on her face.

"Obviously, getting teddy bears is better than buying them, have you seen the prices of these little things?" Elena gave a low laugh when she saw Matt open his mouth exaggeratedly, soon after the two burst into laughter together.

"So, are you really going to get married?" Matt asked suddenly after they calmed down, looking directly at her.

"Yeah, I will" She replied, lowering her gaze to her hands, specifically to the silver ring on her left ring finger.

"You don't look very excited" He commented, making the girl sigh.

"I just... I don't know, I'm so young, you know? I'm only 20, getting married seems a bit drastic right now, but Jeremy thinks it will be good for our future, us having the same last name will help in the office" She replied, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What does he do for a living again?" The brunette asked.

"He currently works at his father's office and studies law," Elena said, noticing the grimace he made at her response. "What?"

"He doesn't seem like your type. In fact, he seems like quite a daddy's boy." Matt commented, regretting it seconds later after seeing Elena's eyebrows raise in surprise.

"And what do you know about my type, Matthew?"

"I'm sorry, ignore what I said" Matt intervened quickly, the last thing he wanted was to fight with Elena now, knowing that after that Sunday, he didn't know when he would see her again. Maybe at her wedding, the boy felt himself shudder at the thought.

Elena sighed.

"You know that my dream has always been to be successful with my career and have my own family. Us getting married would give me both... Having his last name, I will be able to start my International Relations profession within the office that soon will be his, which will make me grow faster on the career, and I'll have my own family." Elena spoke while gesturing.

"Sounds like there's a lot of self-interest involved" Matt commented.

"Matthew!" The girl exclaimed, making him raise his arms in a sign of redemption.

"Sorry, sorry." He sighed. "I remember, you know."

"What?" Elena looked at him confused.

"How you always wanted a family, when we were kids me, Nick and Chris were always messing around and you were playing mommy with your barbies. You wouldn't let go of that damn Baby Alive even if you were paid to, always taking her everywhere." Matt let out a laugh as he remembered, making Elena laugh along as she saw her own smaller figure running after the triplets with her doll in hands.

"You can't say anything, you always took care of my Baby Alive when I asked you to" The girl replied with a wide smile, watching Matt roll his eyes exaggeratedly while she laughed as quietly as she could.

The brunette turned to her to rebut, but stopped in his action, reinforcing in his mind every detail of the face of the girl who had his heart in her hands, details that he had memorized a long time ago and still found himself remembering and tracing in his mind on sleepless nights.

The two stared deeply at each other for what seemed like an eternity, before Elena looked away and fake coughed.

"Just think about your decision Elena." Matt asked softly before getting up from the queen sized bed.

"Where are you going?" Elena looked at him again, her eyes pleading, as if she was afraid he would leave her there, alone and without him.

"I'm going back home, if my mother wakes up and doesn't see me in bed in the morning, I'm sure she'll freak out, and the situation won't turn out very well for us." He spoke with a sigh, going to the window and opening it, looking back one last time, before moving outside, closing it again before disappearing from the girl's vision.

Elena stood still for a few minutes, processing the conversation and that last moment, feeling her heart sink at the thought of not seeing the boy again for a long time after Sunday. It felt like a goodbye.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

On the next day, Elena woke up significantly early as she felt the sun's rays coming through her window. As she opened her eyes, ready to complain about why it was so bright in the room, she remembered Matt leaving and how she forgot to get up and close the curtains.

The girl sighed, before getting up and getting ready for the day. She felt excited to be able to see her friends again, but her heart ached at the thought that that very night she would leave again.

After getting ready, Elena took her cell phone and saw a message left by Jeremy.

"I hope you're having a good time there. I can't wait to have you here again today, I can't stop looking at the wedding catalogues. Do you prefer chocolate or vanilla cake? xx, jeremy"

Elena sighed again, it's obvious she preferred vanilla, how did he not know that? The girl shook her head, deciding to answer him another time.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"What are we doing today?" Nick asked as they found themselves in front of the triplets' door, as they had done years before.

"I thought we'd go to the amusement park, the one that only opens in the summer, you know? Like old days." Matt suggested. Elena looked at him when she heard about the park, quickly looking away when she saw him already looking back at her. She needed to stop this.

"Let's go then!" Chris spoke loudly, running over to his parents' car again, fiddling with the passenger door handle impatiently, begging Matt to unlock it.

Elena laughed at the action, running to the car too and soon getting into the back seat, sitting behind Chris's group, having a view of the driver's seat.

A few minutes later the four arrived at the amusement park and started going on the basic rides, which the four liked, bumper cars, roller coasters and carousel.

"Can we go on the ferris wheel?" Elena asked, puting her hands in a sign of prayer and looking at the three of them with a pleading look.

"I'm not going, it's too boring. I want to go to the arcade area" Chris replied, ignoring the girl who was begging.

"I want to go to the arcade too!" Nick shouted, raising his hand like a child and approaching Chris, making Elena roll her eyes and cross her arms with a huff.

"I'll go with you." Matt said looking at Elena, who smiled big, taking his hand and dragging him through the park to the ferris wheel line, ignoring the taller man's protests.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Wow, I don't remember the last time I entered a cabin like that" Matt commented, closing the small door behind him and sitting on the single bench next to Elena, who smiled as she nodded and looked at the outside view through the cabin's glass window.

Matt found himself watching her, taking note of her profile, feeling himself falling in love with her all over again.

It didn't take long for the wheel to start moving, the cabin swayed a little making Elena let out a surprised sound, holding onto Matt's arm to steady herself.

"Sorry, I don't remember it moving that much" She commented, smiling awkwardly as she took her hand off the boy's arm, watching him wave his hand like it was nothing.

The two focused their eyes outside the cabin, taking note of the people who looked like little ants as the cabin rose higher, the blue sky with few clouds, the light breeze that blew and the birds that passed by in the distance. Elena looked at the cabin ahead and saw a couple cuddling each other, smiling big as they also watched the view, and she found herself trying to remember if she had ever been through that with Jeremy, but her mind came out was blank.

Her chest tightened as she realized that she had never even been to an amusement park with Jeremy, or a park, or a romantic walk. With Jeremy it was always all about work and having the perfect status.

Her gaze changed from the couple to Matt, noticing that he was also looking at the couple, but quickly his blue eyes focused on her as well.

"I love being able to look at you up close like this," Matt whispered, as if he was afraid of speaking too loudly and end what they were having.

Elena smiled, blushing, but forcing herself not to look away from him, she didn't want to miss that moment for anything. Her eyes took in all the little details of Matt's face, his sparkling blue eyes with dilated pupils, his nose perfectly shaped and the right size for his face, his cheekbones slightly reddened by the heat, his big, messy hair, his beard starting to appear again due to the time without shaving it... She felt like she could stay there forever.

Matt moved slightly closer, stopping with his mouth centimeters from hers, seeming to wait to see if she would pull away, which she didn't. Elena held herself in place, yearning to feel him.

Matt, realizing that there was no movement on her part, moved closer until their lips touched, and Elena felt that everything she read in romance books about the sensations of electricity through her body and the fireworks around her when kissing her right person was true.

Matt let out a sigh through his nose at the sensation, feeling instant relief and as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He never wanted to leave there again.

It was just a touch of lips, but it was enough for them at that moment. It was exactly what they needed.

Elena pulled away first, still with her eyes closed, trying to prolong the feeling and sensations in her body and mind. When she opened her eyes, she noticed Matt already looking at her, smiling broadly, and she returned the smile.

"I love you." Matt blurted out, making Elena's eyes widen. "Elena, I'm sorry for not having said or done anything before, but I've loved you for as long as I can remember, since the first flower I plucked from my mother's garden and gave to you, since the first time you gave me your Baby Alive for me to take care of as if it were the most precious thing in the world, since the first day you asked me to kiss your scraped knee to heal it. I've loved you for so long and I was an idiot for not saying it. And it's okay if you don't want me, you're engaged, you have a life in New York and... Asking you to leave all of this is impossible, but I needed to tell you."

Before Elena could process it, the bubble around the two seemed to burst as the ferris wheel stopped and their turn was over, the little cabin door opening again.

Matt cleared his throat, getting up and helping Elena out. When they both touched their feet on the floor, Elena felt her cell phone vibrate, picking it up only to see that Jeremy was sending her a new message about the wedding, and at that moment she fell to reality, she had cheated on her fiancé with her best friend. A bitter taste entered her mouth, her body froze and a horrible feeling took over her heart. God, what did she do?

Elena quickly pulled away from Matt, feeling her hands shake. She put her cell phone in her bag and turned to the taller man, seeing him looking at her with a worried look.

"Matt I cheated on him... I-I cheated on my fiancé with you." She stuttered. Matt looked at her with a weight on his eyes, feeling horrible for having contributed to that, blaming himself for kissing her, wanting to go back in time and not even agreeing to go on the ferris wheel with the girl.

He loved her, but she didn't love him back, not like he wanted her to.

"Elena look, it's going to be okay, you can talk to him, I swear I won't approach you again, I'm sorry-"

"I-I need to go."

"What?" Matt stopped walking completely.

"I need to go Matt." She looked into his eyes, feeling guilty as she saw immense pain in the blue pools. "Don't go after me, please. I'm sorry."

Elena turned and ran away, wiping the tears that fell from her eyes without stopping and feeling an emptiness and weight in her chest, as if part of her had stayed with Matt.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡���﹡﹡༺

The girl got out of the taxi in front of her grandparents house and walked to the door, taking the spare key that her grandfather had given her, trying to unlock the lock with her blurry vision.

"Elena?" The girl heard her grandmother call from the kitchen after closing the door behind her.

"Hi grandma." Elena responded, her voice cracking from the held back cry.

Her grandmother quickly appeared at the kitchen door after noticing the difference in her granddaughter's voice, approaching with quick steps when she saw the youngest's red eyes and wet cheeks.

"Oh Elena, what happened?" The older woman asked worriedly, taking Elena's shoulders and leading her to the sofa, sitting her on the soft surface and sitting next to her.

"Why does love hurt so much, grandma?" Elena asked, letting out a sob. Her grandmother sighed, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Oh Elena, love doesn't hurt dear. It took me many years to learn that, if love is right for you and your heart, and it's reciprocal, it doesn't hurt, it wasn't made to hurt. It was with your grandfather that I learned that love is free, it is generous, it is safe and it empowers you in a way that makes you feel stronger and like you can conquer the world." The oldest explained with a smile. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"I kissed Matt." Elena said, looking down at her hands, quickly looking away from the ring. "We went to the amusement park we went to as kids, I wanted to go on the ferris wheel and he accompanied me, we had a moment and we kissed."

"He always looked at you differently... And you at him, so much so that I swore you two would end up together. I remember all the times you came running here with a new flower in your hands and said it was from Matt, as If I didn't already know that." Elena smiled upon hearing her grandmother's words.

"But grandma, I'm engaged." She whispered regretfully.

"Do you love Jeremy?" The eldest asked, cupping her granddaughter's cheek and lifting her face so she could look her in the eyes.

"I-I... I don't know." Elena desperately tried to feel for Jeremy what she felt for Matt. "I don't feel about him what I feel when I think about Matt, or when I'm with him. Jeremy is an incredible man, with a planned and perfect life... I feel so pressured sometimes, like I have to be perfect all the time to fit in with him and his plans. It's not light, grandma."

Elena cried harder when she realized how heavy her days were with Jeremy, how she always had to have the most impeccable and perfect clothes, with the best posture, the most flawless makeup, the best-groomed hair and the best modes. How she felt about being looked at and evaluated by everyone all the time, especially at Jeremy's parenting conferences or in her father's office.

"Elena, pay close attention to me, what does your heart say if you spend more time worrying about perfection than kissing him? If you spend more time in the day thinking about a thousand things than living love lightly? Do you feel like to run away when with him? Honey, I'm sorry, but that's not love. Not the right one for you, at least."

Elena looked at her grandmother, surprised by her wisdom and how it all made sense.

Jeremy was a perfect man, but not for her. Matt was her perfect match.

God, what would she do now? She ran out of the park and left Matt all by himself after he declared his love for her. And she still had Jeremy...

"I already know what I gave to do."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Part 2

#x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #fanfic #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo fanfiction #matt fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #matt x reader #oc #fem!oc #matt sturniolo au #matt au #fic #fanfiction #matt sturniolo oneshot #matt sturniolo oneshots #matt sturniolo one shot #matt sturniolo writing #writing #matt sturniolo fiction #love #romance #matt sturniolo imagine #friends to lovers

[p1nkcanoe]

the polaroid collection: mountain

this is part six of the polaroid collection, based off of 'picture this'. you can either find the masterlist here, read on ao3, or read below:

Mountain is a predictable ghoul. Detail oriented. A strict schedule follower… 

Every morning he gets up at the same time and puts on the same mud-stained apron over his work clothes, brews himself a steaming cup of coffee with a splash of milk and two sugars, and heads out to the greenhouse. He works for about four hours, sometimes more to ensure everything is growing and green, lifting heavy bags of dirt over his broad shoulders and organizing a million containers of seeds with calloused fingers until he’s sore. Then he’ll head back in towards the den around lunchtime and place his dirt-covered sandals right outside the door, dusting off his clothes on the lawn to make sure he doesn’t spatter the stone slab in front of the door with soil – because it would be so rude of him to leave such a tiny mess for someone else to step in. 

It’s almost infuriating how perfect he is. 

But after he gets a bite to eat, eating the leftovers in the fridge and scrubbing the dirty dishes, he then disappears into his bedroom to cleanse his body of the lingering filth of the gardens. And for the majority of his packmates, they believe that that is where his strenuous morning routine ends; a nice, relaxing bath. What they don’t know is that the earth ghoul always takes a lengthy, less-than-glamorous moment to jerk his rock hard, stress-induced erection to completion before hopping into the bath. 

Always. 

It’s like clockwork at this point. Swiss listens for his heavy footsteps outside the hall, listens for the quiet click of his bedroom lock, and then it’s only a matter of minutes before the soft groans begin floating in through the old vent connecting their rooms. It’s a blessing it’s there, really. It’s like music to Swiss’ ears when he hears him. That big, sweet, considerate ghoul with a huge heart and an even bigger dick… 

Oooh and he really likes it when Mountain works longer hours than usual, because it means that he can smell him. And fuck does he smell delightful. A dizzying combination of sweat and stress and lustful pheromones that drive the multi ghoul absolutely mad despite only being able to imagine what he looks like on the other side. He wants to eat him up, get a taste, and it doesn’t help that he stinks particularly strong today. 

His feet carry him out of his desk chair and through Mountain’s bedroom door before he can fully process the possibility that Mountain may not be alone. Cock already generously tenting the front of his shorts, the sight of the ghoul half-naked on his bed with his fist wrapped around his dick is almost enough to make him forget entirely about the camera clutched in his hand. 

He looks really good – Swiss knew he would. He’s got his tight undershirt bunched up around his chest to keep it out of the way and his dirtied cargos are bundled in a heap around his ankles. The sudden intrusion into his space has the earth ghoul more than surprised, his cheeks pink and his breathing heavy, but Swiss doesn’t care. 

Upon bursting in, Mountain’s scent had hit him in the face like the bus they ride around in during tour. So gross, so pungent, so thick. Swiss watches as his hand struggles to fight between continuing to get himself off or hiding himself away. Nostrils flaring, pupils dilating… Mountain cups his balls with his other hand under Swiss’ intense gaze, suddenly insecure. 

“Hey, big guy,” Swiss says, an unnatural lilt to his voice as he gives the other ghoul a big, toothy smile. 

The suspicion doesn’t leave Mountain’s features as the multi ghoul stalks closer, eyes raking over the other’s form like he’s sizing him up. Then he finds the camera in his grasp and things begin to click into place at the same time that the heavy wooden door clicks into its frame. That look of confusion contorts into something cunning, his lips curling into a smirk as his fingers flex around the base of his shaft, wiggling the tip like a worm in front of a hungry fish. 

Green eyes flit from the camera up to find brilliant gold and a singular fang peeks out from behind Mountain’s chapped upper lip. 

“You know,” he starts and tilts his head to the side, “I heard about this little photography project you’ve had going on and I was wondering when you were gonna finally let me have my turn.” 

Swiss huffs, surprised at the shift towards confidence, his change in demeanor unexpected, but continues to encroach upon the other’s space until there’s only a few steps to separate them. He feels his cock stir again, pre welling at the tip and soaking into the fabric that struggles to constrain him. 

“Well you didn’t think I was gonna forget about you, did you?” 

Mountain shrugs. Much too smug to have his pants around his ankles like a little boy. “I’m not too sure. I was beginning to think that everyone was gonna have their turn and I was gonna be left out in the mud.” 

Swiss stalks a little bit closer, close enough to reach out if he wanted to. He doesn’t. His dick leads him in whichever direction he desires to go. 

“Oh, but darling, you know I love it when you get a little dirty.” A gold-tipped digit extends and begins to trail downwards over a flaky patch of dirt smeared over Mountain’s strong bicep. Swiss watches as his finger descends, Mountain watches his face. “And besides, you smell so delicious, I couldn’t possibly stay away.” 

The bigger ghoul falters for a moment, brow furrowing in slight confusion at his confession. 

“You could smell me?” 

Swiss finally meets his eyes and there’s a dangerous glint somewhere in there as his finger continues to linger on his skin, dragging down, down, down until his touch is feather-light. 

“Always. I know your schedule like the back of my hand, dirt boy.” 

Mountain glances upwards towards the rusted vent in the ceiling and Swiss chuckles in a way that makes him flash hot with embarrassment. He’s certainly heard more than he’d like to admit of Swiss’ late night rides and grinds – as has the other – but he had no idea that he could smell him. 

His eyes darken and he tsks at the multi ghoul, “you naughty ghoul…” 

Swiss’ finger drifts over to flick at a pebbled nipple before pulling away and shifting his weight back onto his heels, arms crossed across his chest. “Keep doing what you were doing,” he says and motions to him with a flick of his hand. “I wanna watch.” 

Now that Mountain knows what is up, he is happy to perform. He jerks his dick in long, slow strokes, kicking his pants off the rest of the way so that he can spread his knees and show all of himself off. Swiss stands just in front of him, so close yet so tantalizingly far away, watching intently with lust-blown eyes as the ruddy head of his cock appears and disappears in his fist. 

His hands are filthy, it’s obvious he’d made the decision not to wash them, and a sticky combination of fertilizer and dirt create a muddy residue that makes his dick all gritty and messy. Something about that is arousing. 

“Not afraid to get a little dirty, huh?” Swiss asks, eyes still fixed on his ministrations. 

Mountain rubs the muddy concoction into the folds of his foreskin and hums all pretty, ignoring the accusation in favor of being a little nasty. He likes nasty. 

“I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked you over a fresh bag of mulch before.” 

“Well we don’t have to get into specifics…”

“A little uncharacteristic of you now, is it not?” 

Swiss rolls his eyes dramatically and tells the other ghoul to scoot back further onto the bed. Then he peels off his own pants, his hard cock springing up to attention and bobbing as he walks forward to crawl into the massive earth ghoul’s lap, camera placed adjacent to them on the bed. It’s on, blinking and ready for whenever he decides to use it. 

Swiss gives himself a few strokes for good measure and to make sure he’s at full mast (he is) and keeps his eyes trained on the way that Mountain matches his pace with his own hand. He glances up and finds those pretty green eyes that are as blown out as his own and surges forward to capture his chapped lips in a kiss. 

It’s less of a kiss that they fall into, and more of a spit-slicked, open mouthed tangle of tongues. They steal each other's air when it escapes from their lungs and drink in each other’s noises that they make in their throat, replacing them with new ones until they’re throbbing in their hands and Swiss is moaning from the fresh bite of mint lingering on Mountain’s tongue. He tastes better than he imagined he would, and he sucks the taste directly from the source, drinking up the saliva that’s laced deliciously with the cool herb. 

“What’ve you been up to in there, hmm? Taste good.” 

Both of their voice’s are breathless, spoken directly into the other’s mouth. 

Mountain tugs at the flared ridge of his head and groans deep in his chest, “come visit me sometime and I’ll give you a tour.” 

Swiss pulls him in again by a hand on the back of his nape, biting on his swollen bottom lip and sucking on the tip of his tongue, and in the heat of it all Mountain nudges his hand away from his cock to slide their lengths together. The feeling of hot, slick skin against hot, slick skin makes both of them shudder all the way up their spines and the noises they make could make a demon blush. 

It’s Swiss who breaks their devouring kiss to peer down and watch as Mountain works their lengths together in one of his overly large hands. Some of the dirt already begins to rub off onto his underside. 

Mountain’s fat tip kisses Swiss’ frenulum with each and every stroke, sending intense jolts of pleasure up his spine with every little touch, no matter how intense. 

It feels way too good just to be rubbing their cocks together, and it looks even better. 

Mountain is so large. The sheer size of his girthy appendage nearly dwarfs Swiss’ own (which is no easy feat), and despite Swiss sitting atop his thighs, Mountain’s tip nearly matches up with him in length. Swiss reaches in to gather up a slick combination of their pre on his middle and index fingers and smears the digits over the other ghoul’s lips. He pushes them into his mouth and Mountain sucks gently, cleaning them with his tongue until they're clean and holding dangerous eye contact the entire time that he does. 

Gold and green, gold and green, gold and green…

They’re lucky it’s not mating season– the sight of him with his fingers in his mouth makes Swiss’ belly flip a million times. 

“The things you do to me…” he whispers, nearly inaudible, and Mountain parts his lips to let out a breathy laugh, carding his clean hand through Swiss’ thick curls and tugging his head back towards the ceiling. Swiss’ fingers slip out past his teeth coated in saliva. Swiss sucks it off. 

When Mountain suddenly decides to use both of his hands to get them off, squeezing an twisting his wrist and creating a pocket for them to fuck in tandem, Swiss feels himself being guided rapidly towards the edge of euphoria – and much faster than he’d anticipated. Both of their cocks are flushed dark and so shiny, and Swiss begins to spit curses through his teeth when Mountain shifts his magic touch to their leaking heads. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Mountain gasps out against Swiss’ jaw. He nips at the skin with his teeth, “are you gonna cum with me?” 

He almost sounds desperate. 

“No,” Swiss forces out. He surprises himself with how sure he sounds. The tightening in his balls begs to differ. Mountain’s brow scrunches together and he drops his jaw, clearly doing his best to stave off his impending orgasm. 

With the last ounce of control he has left, Swiss reaches for the camera, lining up the shot blindly at where they’re pressed so hotly together. 

“Want it just like this,” he moans and Mountain grips them both at the base, “so hard, so flushed, fuck, Mount, you’re so big…” 

Mountain lets out a moan that's so loud he has to throw his head back towards the ceiling to get it out. The muscles in his abdomen ripple and go hard. 

“Swiss– I’m gonna-” 

“Don’t you dare ruin my shot.” 

“Fuck, you’re such an asshole-” 

Swiss bites his lip hard between his teeth when Mountain’s cock jerks and jumps pressed flush against the underside of his own. 

“Shut up and flex it. Do that again.” 

Mountain gives them another tight stroke then holds them firmly together at the base, exhibiting them in all their filthiest glory for the lens. A thin string of pre connects their leaking heads and the realization makes Swiss jerk violently, balls tightening, and he forces his finger to press down on the button milliseconds before he shoots hot and thick all over his own thighs and Mountain’s fingers. 

“So much for not cumming,” Mountain teases, cheeks pink and forehead slick with sweat, but his little poke at the other gets cut short when Swiss wraps his hand tightly around his cock. “Whatever. We got the damn picture…”

#mountain ghoul #the polaroid collection #picture this #mountain x swiss #swiss ghoul #p1nk ficlet

[espion7971]

MudWing tribe sheet!

you guys really liked my last wof art post, and i've been planning for a while to do these more thorough tribe headcanon sheets, so here's the first one! some of these i'm already done with, others i'm not, so when i post them will just depend on when i finish them lol. i'll be doing them in the order that they appear in at the beginning of each book. so that means mudwings are first!

much more detailed explanations of tribe headcanons are below the cut.

Physical Appearance + Traits:

-MudWings are the largest of all tribes by mass. Their legs are not particularly long, and they are quite a bit shorter than SkyWings, but their muscle content and the density of their bones far outmatches other tribes.

-They are the most crocodillian of the tribes; the rough armor along their backs gives them camouflage, and the high-set eyes and nostrils allow them to submerge almost entirely into ponds and mud patches. 

-They can hold their breath for up to 70 minutes; this is helped by the thin, froglike skin on the underside of their bodies, through which oxygen can be diffused, letting them “breathe” underwater for a limited amount of time.

-Large horns, often bull- or ram-like.

-MudWings have wings that, while big, are not large enough proportional to their enormous bodies to fly often or comfortably. They can fly when necessary, but generally prefer not to - more on this in the “society and culture” section.

-Algae and moss that would usually grow on rocks or driftwood near muddy banks will often latch onto large, slow-moving MudWings, especially on their backs. Some old MudWings will become so overgrown that when lying down, it’s hard to tell they’re dragons at all. This earthy, forested look, though, is deeply respected as a sign of longevity and wisdom. (Some queens have been famous for their tremendous amount of greenery.)

-MudWing coloration, naturally, consists mainly of muddy browns, but there is some variation. Amber or reddish underscales, grays, and values ranging from sandy to dark umber tones are not rare. It’s thought that some MudWings may even have a greenish tint, but this may just as easily be algae hiding their true colors.

-They can only produce fire when they’re warm, and while it is used as a weapon at times, it’s less directional and focused than the fire of SkyWings, for example. It’s more often used to barricade off areas, as a threat display, or as a last-minute self-defense. 

Life Cycle:

-MudWings, completely uniquely among dragons, are hatched and raised by almost no one but their own siblings. These dragons are hatched into troops of between four and seven (with three, eight and nine being outliers), and from the first moment, these “sib” groups are deathly loyal to each other. Often, MudWing parents do not even meet their offspring, but the young troops survive by relying on each other. This is reinforced by the Bigwings, the first-hatched and biggest MudWing in every troop. (It is thought that Bigwings are determined not before they hatch, but by hormones during hatching: if a dragonet hatches on its own, it becomes a Bigwings - larger and with more protective instincts - and if it is assisted, it does not. This does, in theory, mean that it is possible to have multiple Bigwings in one troop if they are separated from each other. It’s also why it’s vitally important to not disturb a MudWing egg nest.)

-MudWing dragonets are hatched small, but grow very fast, reaching about half their body size in just their first few years. Once they slow down, though, they slow way down, and their growth is barely noticeable over the years and years that they can live. A hundred-year-old MudWing is visibly larger than a ten-year-old, but not as much as some other tribes.

-They do not partner into mated pairs, and rarely even form strong bonds outside of the sibling troop. Tribe-wide breeding nights, influenced by seasonal breeding cycles, are the only times they reproduce.

-MudWings have lifespans on the longer end - it’s possible, though uncommon, for them to live to nearly 200. A 90-year-old MudWing is considered fairly old.

Society and Culture:

-MudWings are extremely connected to the earth and ground. They believe deeply in its spirituality and necessity. This, along with their heavy bodies, is the reason they don’t fly much, at least when they don’t need to. Some, in fact, scorn SkyWings and other tribes that spend much of their life in the air; they believe that these dragons do not properly appreciate the earth and its soothing nature. They feel no desire to be away from it. Some troops only learn to fly for the sake of military training.

-Because of the tribe’s reliance on their troop system, the majority of MudWing territory is not centralized into towns or regions; MudWings are very thoroughly scattered throughout, either in small communities made up of a few sib groups, or just singular sib groups living alone. The palace is the only area in the kingdom that has a significant dense population. The strength in this is that sibling troops are very self-sufficient and there is no need to waste time overseeing the tribe. The weakness this presents is that news travels slowly and there is simply no comprehensive record of the number and locations of MudWings. This is sometimes a problem during organized war, but it also can be a benefit since these small communities will defend MudWing territory on their own without need for proper military action.

-In a similar vein, there is very little formal education outside of the palace. This has a similar benefit - no resources needed - and a similar cost: some troops are completely illiterate, have little knowledge of external affairs, or even speak different languages with no easy way to translate.

-Naturally, all MudWing queens are female, and they are almost always Bigwings; while royals simply use the explanation that they set aside troops with male Bigwings and try again until they get a female heir, some MudWings suspect that their true tradition is to kill any natural-hatching male Bigwings until the first female to hatch becomes the Bigwings instead. There is no real way to prove one way or another, though, and it’s generally seen as an unsavory topic. 

-MudWings are the only tribe that does not typically wear metal jewelry. On the occasion that they do decorate themselves, they prefer to use mud, moss, branches, and flowers. Clay beads on strings are the only “typical” traditional MudWing jewelry type.

Diet: Omnivorous. MudWings eat fish, reptiles, amphibians, insects, birds if they can catch them, and pretty much any other animals that live in the marshes with them. They also eat a variety of root vegetables and nearby fruits. MudWings care about food quality, and their palace is famous as a place with creative and delicious feasts served regularly. Generally, they are passive hunters that wait for prey to pass by.

BONUS:

There have been sightings of a distinct type of offshoot MudWing, possibly a few communities that have been distant from the proper mud kingdom for many generations. These dragons are short and long, not so different from SeaWings - and like SeaWings, they seem to have adapted to a more aquatic climate, in the coastal wetlands on the very edge of the kingdom. Their amphibian-like appearance has led some to call them “salamander dragons” or, more derogatorily, “NewtWings.” Most dragons who know of them are skeptical that they will branch off into their own tribe, but there is little to no communication with them or way to find more information.

#wings of fire #wof art #mudwings #wof headcanons #my posts

[blogforfauna]

Hyaena hyaena

Each of the four hyena species is in their own genus. This means that spotted hyenas, striped hyenas, brown hyenas, and aardwolves are not closely related and split from a common ancestor a super long time ago.

Striped and spotted hyenas split roughly 10 million years ago, which is around the same time that foxes split from wolves. So comparing a striped hyena to a spotted hyena is like comparing a red fox to a grey wolf-- both are in the same family, but they look and behave very differently because they diverged so long ago.

Striped and spotted hyena distributions overlap in East Africa, but the distribution of the striped hyena extends much further north, even into Central Asia. Striped hyenas in Asia are generally much larger than those in Africa, weighing from 50-90 pounds (22.7-40.8 kg).

Unlike spotted hyenas that frequently hunt live prey like wildebeest and antelope, striped hyenas depend almost entirely on scavenging. This means they eat plants, garbage, and especially carrion, but they avoid live prey.

Most hyenas have front legs that are longer and much stronger than their hind legs, and their necks are also very long and strong. The reason for this probably lies behind their scavenging behavior— with much stronger, taller legs and necks, hyenas can carry larger pieces of carrion more easily without it dragging through dirt or mud.

Although groups of up to 7 have been recorded, striped hyenas generally live alone or in pairs. This is very different from spotted hyenas, who live in clans that sometimes have over 100 individuals. Also unlike spotted hyenas, male striped hyenas actually help take care of their children.

Striped hyenas mark their territories by producing strong-smelling, mushy stuff called "hyena butter" in their anal glands and smearing it on rocks, stumps, and other landmarks around their territory. You probably didn't want to know that, but now it's too late! Similar to a skunk, striped hyenas spray when they are attacked, as well as raising the mane-like hair on their neck and backs to appear much larger.

I rate striped hyenas 13/10. These things are something ELSE

Photo credits:

(1) Rushikesh Deshmukh (2) Joel Sartore (3) Karim Kara (4) Africa Freak (5) Will Burrard-Lucas

#striped hyena dads are better than spotted hyena dads #hyena butter toast #hyena #hyaena #striped hyena #striped hyaena #animals #biology #nature #science #wildlife #zoology #animal #dogs #wild #weird animal #hyena butter

[myemuisemo]

It's week 3 of Letters from Watson, and there is an elephant in the room.

We're going to feel the elephant's trunk, but first I want to crawl into the mindset of a contemporary 1887 reader. It's been a long time since I watched the Jeremy Brett versions of Sherlock Holmes, so if my impressions are shaped by that experience, it's in an indirect subconscious way.

Holmes' explanation of how he spotted the courier as a retired sergeant of Marines indicates that he's storing a good deal of trivia about military services in the lumber room of his mind.

Gregson and Lestrade, the best of Scotland Yard, are blessed with the Victorian compliments of being "quick and energetic." Watson, in his rush to order a cab, is also implied to value quickness and energy over whatever thought processes Holmes is about to introduce. When not humored in his rush to be useful, he falls into a sulk.

Gregson is the whitest of whitely white guys, from pale face to flaxen hair. The fact that he's not the slightest bit red-faced suggests both that he rarely sees the sun (well, London fog) and that he doesn't drink. There's very likely a teeny bit of a joke here in calling him Gregson, since Watson would certainly have been aware of the work of Joseph Gelson Gregson, the Baptist preacher and Army chaplain whose mission in the 1860s-70s was to convert British Indian Army soldiers to total abstinence from alcohol. Will our Gregson turn out to be zealous and self-righteous?

If Gregson did not arrive in a cab, and Lestrade did not arrive in a cab, then likely there are some specific sort of tire marks in the mud.

Now, the house at 3 Lauriston Gardens came close to baffling me. Obviously, when I first read the Sherlock Holmes stories as a mid-sized child, I knew only sprawling ranch tract homes, so the description of the 3-story vacant house was just "ooh, creepy!"

That numbering really suggests its an attached rowhouse, though. That would be consistent with development down Brixton Road in the mid-19th century. There are so, so many terraces of identical attached houses in yellowish brick. Here's Google Maps demonstrating 3-story terraced rowhouses on Handforth Road, just off Brixton Road. These are a little too new, dating from the 1890s, so we've got to imagine a Brixton Road area that's still far less developed -- things that look "old" to us weren't there yet.

These remind us that as London built outward, the rowhouses usually did not have two features that Lauriston Gardens has: a front garden and a center hall. The front garden suggests that the intent of the four dwellings composing Lauriston Gardens was to be a little more suburban and bucolic than the typical urban terrace. Its general aura of mud indicates that it has failed at this promise.

But move on down Brixton Road to the 300 block, and here we are with that garden! These are 3 stories, have a yard, have pillars suggested Greek Revival (1850s-60s), and are depressing af.

Maybe it's my years in the Albany-Troy (NY) area speaking, but these are exuding "we are holding onto middle class by our slipping fingernails." I think that is actually the impression Doyle intends to give: Lauriston Gardens was never quite perfectly respectable, even in its heyday, but it was trying.

That center hall still troubles me. A middle-class rowhouse typically has a side hall, which holds the staircase volume. The parlor is then either narrow (one window) or wide (two). Lauriston Gardens is built with a center hall (pointing to a more lavish lifestyle) but only one "reception" room deep. It has "offices" (butler's pantry or whatever) and a kitchen on the main floor, not in the basement.

Something like this, a titch further out Brixton Road, might be a fit if it weren't for the extra wing on the side. I think the dormer floor is a modern addition. These super-plain houses with only the pillared doorways look so grim, especially compared to the more ornamented Victorian styles.

If the reader is meant to feel uneasy at the mismatch between 3 Lauriston Gardens' pretensions and its actuality, we're there! In any case, the carpet has been pulled up (as was common, you took it with you when you moved), the florid older wallpaper is peeling, the fireplace mantle is a faux finish (yep, aspirations above our proper class), and there is a body on the floor.

Our body is wearing a frock coat, which was the formal daytime wear of a gentleman but on its way out of fashion by the 1880s. Broadcloth of the era had a felt-like feel and was known for durability. So our corpse is respectable, practical, probably conservative in habits, and possibly punching a bit above his social class.

And he has a "simious and ape-like appearance," which worries the heck out of me in a modern 2023 sense. Watson, as the late Victorian everyman, refers to common notions of facial bone structure indicating character. Simian is never good; it's an indicator of primitive, uncouth nature. I'm going to hope hard that we are solely being set up to see the dead man as representative of the worst sort of grasping, self-centered, profit-minded, uncouth American. We're definitely supposed to "get" that, as the house is failing at its pretentions, so too is the dead body trying to be something above its class.

I am nervous for next week, and I'm determined not to look ahead. I'm going to sit with my discomfort like a proper serial-reader, so don't spoiler it for me!

#letters from watson #sherlock holmes

[bonefall]

What was Leopardstar and Carpwhisker’s relationship like?

You know how in Fire Emblem Awakening how there's that side character whose entire existence is dedicated to a running joke that he's the biggest person in the room... but no one sees him, ever? To the point where they even end up thinking an extra goblet at dinner must belong to a ghost?

Face obscured by Chrom's knee on the box art, Mike Wazowski magazine style?

Carpwhisker.

I'm GUTTING Leopardstar's Haggis. It is in the bottom 5 WC entries for me. Leopardstar's childhood bullying was cheap and brainless. How fucking dare they, actually?

How dare they take their ONE confident, intimidating female character, DEFINED by how she was beloved in RiverClan and by her apprentice generation, had no romance, and wasn't a mother figure, and fuck up ALL THREE THINGS???

So. Anyway.

If anyone gets bullied it's Carpwhisker, still by Skyheart.

Brightsky didn't die; she became a kittypet. There were four kits.

Carp, Oat, Leopard, Water.

Mudfur took Carp and Leopard home, due to their resemblance to their famous ancestor, Volestar.

If Mudfur knew what Leopardstar would become... he would have left her there, with her mother. He regrets bringing her back to RiverClan

He feels he should have known better. He became a Cleric shortly after returning because he came to believe that the constant fighting was wrong, and yet...

What did he expect?

Carpwhisker is a nervous wreck who can't stand up for herself despite being as big as a badger, and Leopardstar eventually booked herself a rock appointment

I feel like at some point, Carpwhisker learned the secret about Brightsky... but keeps it to herself.

She can't imagine Leopardstar taking it well, "and um, she's..." (Carpwhisker grasps for words not wanting to outright say she's terrified of her) "...she's a wee bit intense about bad news."

You know that one post about the kid who got severely bullied in school, the teacher put on Dumbo, and they watched every single one of their bullies cheer for the underdog? All the bullies think they're Dumbo.

That's poor Carp. I feel like she used to really like Aftergatherings until Leopardstar told her about the reputation of those events, and that attending them was making Carp look disloyal.

People often take credit for her achievements. She was the one who made the Bonehill practical-- it's not solid bone, it's a mud facade with a layer of bone around it. Tigerstar said it was TigerClan's achievement, and his by proxy.

When Carpwhisker was struggling for breath to correct him, Leopardstar gave her a sideways glance and killed the thought.

So, Carp's relationship with Leopardstar is not great. But Carp defends her, and loves her, and insist she knows best.

Leopardstar is a better friend of Skyheart than she is a sister of Carp. Leopard's beloved by that whole group, and a natural leader from a young age.

I think when Leopardstar dies, Carp is distraught by it. Inconsolable, and it's really hard to tell her in that moment that it sounds like she's a lot better off without her.

She'd probably end up hanging out with Mothwing a lot, seeking spiritual advice. Moth just gives her normal, mortal, nonspiritual advice, but Carpwhisker thinks it's divine.

After all... they both did just lose very toxic siblings that they still loved very much, and are kinda working through that.

In terms of politics, Carpwhisker is a weak-traditionalist. Really, she just goes along with what's popular at the moment, and doesn't make waves. She's conflict-avoidant, and just tries to make others happy with her hard work.

Most of all she just wants peace, really. What if there were no problems forever and everyone was just nice and well-fed and we all took a big nap in this warm den I made. What then.

SO all that to say... She loved Leopardstar. Leopardstar was awful to her. "We're sisters! It's just like that!" (It Is Not Like That.) She was hidden in her shadow. She thought the shadow was normal. She's destroyed when her sister dies. She can only begin to recover once she's gone.

#BB!Carpwhisker #BB!Leopardstar #Better bones au #BB!Mudfur #If BB had book covers I would even have it like Carp keeps getting hidden behind things lmaoo #Like Mudfur leaving the home and the angle causes leopardkit to obscure Carpkit #But then if she had a big role later talking to Mothwing #FINALLY she'd be visible on the boxart and smiling #She's also got like 3 major deaths to go through in TNP #Her dad her sister and a child #Something about RiverClan cats just makes me want to put them through The Horrors i swear #tw abuse

[trickricksblog08]

CONGRATULATIONS TO ALL BORN IN 1930's, 1940's, 50's, 60's, 70's and Early 80's !!! First, you survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a tin, and didn't get tested for diabetes. Then after that trauma, your baby cots were covered with bright coloured lead-based paints. You had no childproof lids on medicine ..medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when you rode your bikes, you had no helmets, not to mention, the risks you took hitch-hiking .. As children, you would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags. Riding in the back of a van - loose - was always great fun. You drank water from the garden hosepipe and NOT from a bottle. You shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this. You ate cakes, white bread and real butter and drank pop with sugar in it, but you weren't overweight because...... YOU WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!!

You would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the street lights came on. No one was able to reach you all day. And you were OK. You would spend hours building your go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out you forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, you learned to solve the problem . You did not have Play stations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no mobile phones, no text messaging, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms..........YOU HAD FRIENDS and you went outside and found them! You fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents you played with worms(well most boys did) and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever. You made up games with sticks and tennis balls and although you were told it would happen, you did not poke out any eyes. You rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just yelled for them! Local teams had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!! The idea of a parent bailing you out if you broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law! This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever! The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. You had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and you learned HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL! And YOU are one of them! CONGRATULATIONS! You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated our lives for our own good. And while you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave their parents were 😎🤙