#maroon creek

[ausetkmt]

The Negro Fort (Florida), a story - African American Registry

The Negro Fort (Florida), a story

Arial Drawing

*The Negro Fort is celebrated on November 13, 1814.  Also known as Fort Gadsden and the Prospect Bluff Historic Site, it is located in Franklin County, Florida. 

It was constructed on the Apalachicola River, 6 miles SW of Sumatra, Florida. The British built the site during the War of 1812.   After the British evacuated Florida in 1815, they allowed the members of the disbanded Corps of Colonial Marines to occupy it, deliberately leaving their munitions behind.  Since the British had not named it, Americans started referring to it as Negro Fort. It was destroyed in a river attack by U.S. forces in 1816. 

The Florida panhandle was mostly wilderness before 1814. Its population at the time is unknown, except for isolated reports. Like the rest of Florida, many Native American refugees from the United States merged into a new ethnicity, Seminoles. It provided excellent cover for escaped slaves, who, since they shared a common enemy, got along with the Seminoles fairly well; "over time, a bond developed between escaped Africans and the Seminoles that only increased with time and white pressure for their return."  Some became Black Seminoles. There was "reciprocal respect and affection"; the former slaves, who knew English, served as interpreters.  This predecessor of the Underground Railroad ran south.  

The biggest issue about the area discussed by whites was how to get escaped slaves back or compensation for them and prevent or reduce future escapes. The return of Native Americans was unwanted, and they were soon forcibly removed from Florida as well.   As was customary before railroads, settlement took place first along rivers. The name Apalachicola derives from the Apalachee who settled along it before colonial invasions. Settlement at Prospect Bluff by maroons (escaped slaves and their descendants), Seminoles, and a few Europeans are documented at the end of the eighteenth century.  

When the British withdrew, they deliberately left all their weapons, hoping the locals would use them to defend themselves from the U.S. attempts to re-enslave them, just as African and Native Americans had assisted the British during the American War of Independence.  Some of the Native Americans (Seminoles and Red Stick Creeks) left; they had more options than the escaped slaves because there were Native American communities in Florida they could go to, and no one was looking for them; there was no other community of maroons closer than Angola, Florida. Some remained, along with many of the trained soldiers of the disbanded Corps of Colonial Marines, a British Army regiment of freed slaves. Over the next year, the fort became a growing colony of escaped slaves from Georgia and the Mississippi Territory and became known as the Negro Fort.  

It was the center of North America's largest community of free Blacks before the American Civil War.  The fort, located as it was near the border, was seen by the U.S. as "a beacon of light to restless and rebellious slaves," "a center of hostility and above all a threat to the security of their slaves," "a direct threat to the slave-holding interests rapidly flocking to the newly opened lands in what is today Mississippi and Alabama."  On April 8, 1816, General Andrew Jackson ordered General Gaines to "take care of the situation" because the Fort "ought to be blown up"; it was only fomenting "rapine and plunder," and he should "return the stolen Negros and plunder to their rightful owners." On April 23, he complained to the West Florida military governor, Mauricio de Zúñiga.  

On May 26, 1816, the governor told Jackson that he could not act; Jackson then proceeded with his plans to destroy the Fort.   On July 27, 1816, American forces entered the opening to the fort's powder magazine, igniting an explosion that was heard more than 100 miles away in Pensacola, and destroyed the fort, killing all but 30 of 300 occupants.  It has been called "the single deadliest cannon shot in American history." It was also "the largest battle in history between fugitive slaves and U.S. forces seeking to re-enslave them." The trading post of John Forbes and Company, storekeeper Edward Doyle, was reestablished following the fort's destruction. 

Fort Gadsden was built in 1818 within the former walls of the former Negro Fort.  The site has been known by several other names, including Fort Blount, African Fort, and Fort Apalachicola.  Listed in the National Register of Historic Places, the Prospect Bluff Historic Site is located in the Apalachicola National Forest and is managed by the U.S. Forest Service. The process of memorializing the site began in 1961, when Florida acquired a parcel of 78 acres (32 ha), including the location.

Ownership was later transferred to the federal government and named a National Historic Landmark in 1972.  The site contains an explanatory kiosk with artifacts, a picnic area with a pavilion, grills, and restrooms.  Four historical markers are Fort Gadsden, British Fort Magazine, Steamship Tragedy, and "Millie Francis." There is no marker for the Negro Fort.   

#florida #Negro Fort #fort gadsden #appalachicola #prospect bluff #The Negro Fort (Florida) #Black floridans #Seminoles #Black Seminoles #Creeks #spanish #Maroons #escaped black people

[valhikes]

White River National Forest, Colorado.

My 3rd day intersected with the more traveled "4 pass loop" and was just a bit too crowded. Eventually, I was left with just the day hikers that came up to bag Snowmass Peak. Then, after crossing the creek on a natural log jam, I was just left with the rabbit. It was willing to try to eat my shoes while I was wearing them and it had another in the wings learning this poor behavior. From July 2014.

#backpacking #White River National Forest #Colorado #hiking #nature #landscape #mountains #lakes #Snowmass Creek #Snowmass Peak #travel #hike #outside #4 pass loop #Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness

[acefiree]

𝗯𝗮𝘆! 𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 | surprise

Raphael ✷ fem! reader ( friends to lovers ) MASTERLIST

ᕦ(๏益๏)ᕥ: this is my first 'insert reader' so I'm still learning. SO PLS DON"T COME FOR ME! With that being said, you are the baby sister of April, and this will be set four months after the 2014 bay! movie. and since the title is called 'surprise' just read to find out the rest :) my warning tags will tell you what to expect!

( this was a chapter from my book ‘pom’ on wp, so if you recognize it, don’t worry it’s not stolen lol. My book is recently being edited and I took this scene out and was just gonna leave it sitting building dust bunnies, but then I was like “why not make it a reader insert instead and let people enjoy it?” so here yah go!! )

WARNINGS: fluff, fem! reader, short reader, size difference, first kiss?, potty mouth reader, pining raph, established friendship, reader wears glasses, pineapple pizza, aged-up characters!, and if you squint NSFW.

╭┈──── ◌ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ YOUR FEET CARRY YOU hurriedly through the obscure alley, the only sounds that can be heard are your heavy breathing and harsh footsteps on the damp concrete below. Your heart pounds in your chest, feeling as if it might break through the cavity as adrenaline courses through your veins. It is the only thing that motivates you to keep going.

You were running for, what seemed to be, your life.

You wore a loose black tank top and a pair of maroon tights to match, feet sporting a pair of black shoes, and your hair was pulled back. It was not your ideal choice of clothing, but it was the only type that was flexible enough for you to move freely without getting in your way, and the dark shades and colors helped you blend in with the shadows of the night.

You nearly slip and fall as you come to a dead-end in the alley and let out a silent curse under your breath. You can hear movement behind you, growing closer quickly. You knew there were only a few seconds before he caught up and finished what he started. You were almost at the checkpoint, and then you’d be home free, safe from this maniac.

You need to act, or you’d be up shits creek without a paddle.

Your gaze scans the alley walls before locking it on a fire escape. Gritting Your teeth together, you bolt for the ladder and begin climbing with a speed you didn't know was possible for your small human form. Just as you reach the top few bars, a harsh 'thunk' echoes below on the fire escape, jarring the whole thing and sending a violent shake up the metal frame.

“Mother fucker,” You whisper, lighting a fire under your ass as you try to hurry the hell up before you get caught. You grip the rooftop's ledge, feeling the brick bite into your palms as you pull yourself up."Shit shit shit," You hiss. 

 Almost there. 

As you scramble over the ledge, your foot snags on the brick which prompts you to nearly fall. With the newfound reflexes you have earned over the past four months, you tuck and roll, jumping back to your feet as you proceed to run like Karen at a black Friday sale. Your steps never falter nor waver, even when you jump on an AC unit to climb up on a different building. Every move was timed and precise and you couldn’t help but feel pride in the fact you haven’t face-planted yet.

The sound of a low grunt came from behind you, the low growl that followed sent a shiver up your spine and caused gooseflesh to rise on your skin. He’s close! And with that thought in mind, you took a hard left, nearly at the checkpoint.

Finally, after what seems like forever, you fixate your gaze on a makeshift pole in the middle of a roof only feet away. It was adorned with a tattered red cloth that flapped in the night breeze, posing as a flag. You quickly run over, yanking the tiny red flag off the pole before you throw your arms in the air, letting out a loud 'hell yeah' as you dance around with the fabric in your hands.

You made it, nothing could stop you—

You were so focused on your celebration to notice the large figure that was moving toward you from the shadows. A rather loud gasp slips past your lips as something solid hits your shoulder, and muscular arms embrace your figure as you roll across the roof, eventually landing on the ground with a thud. The weight of the figure restrained you, locking your hips on the ground as your wrists were pinned together by large, calloused hands.

When you were finally flat on your back, arms pinned above your head. The expression on your face is as sharp as a knife, annoyance bubbling in the pits of your stomach as you glare up at the figure. "Dammit, Raphael! I fucking got the flag, you asshole!"

 The corners of his mouth twitch into that familiar smirk as he stares down at you, his emerald eyes shining with amusement. "Sorry, Sweetheart, didn't see a flag."

And this is how the last four months were spent. You hated how weak you felt that day when Shredder nearly destroyed New York, and possibly the whole world. So, stupidly, you asked Master Splinter to train you — what you didn't expect was for the old rat to assign his second eldest son to train you himself. It made sense, Raphael was more versed in hand-in-hand combat with his itty-bitty forks, but he could be such an ass sometimes.

At first, it was terrible for you. For the first few weeks, you’d come home bruised and sore. April was always fussing over your well-being, saying you were too young to die. (a little dramatic even for you), But as time went on you started to grow stronger and more agile. You were juggling college and also made time to visit the brothers. To say Raphael wasn't impressed with your drive would be a lie. 

You were determined, he'd give you that.

But on the days that you weren't training, you’d be in the lab with Donnie. The genius turtle was nice enough to help you study for your upcoming tests that would determine if you were ready to move on with your life and get the job you so longed for. You only had a few years of college left, and you were working hard, finally taking your life into your own hands and molding it into what you wanted. 

"I still beat you this time — you didn't catch me." You panted as you wriggled in his firm grip.

He was holding you gently enough not to hurt your smaller wrists, but hard enough so you couldn’t escape.

Raph just stared down at you for a moment, his eyes taking in the bead of sweat that was forming on your neck and collarbone. Your hair now sticking out from your up-do in some spots, and your eyes, which usually held a storm, seemed to glow in the dark lighting around them. You weren't wearing your glasses, which was something he liked because it gave him a chance to see your beautiful eyes better.

You stare up at him, head tilting to the side as Raphael studies you silently. It was times like these when you wondered what he was thinking. This wasn't the first time he stared at you like that.

Another second passed, and that was when you realized his grip had been lost, so you took this as your chance to turn the tables. You knew you were too small to do any damage or cause much force for his hulking form, but if there was one thing Raphael made sure to teach you, it was obstructing your opponent's balance. 

With as much strength as you can build up, you jerk your arms down, effectively knocking your elbows to his large knees. Raphael lets out a grunt of surprise as you thrust your hips up, causing him to fall forward from the unexpected move, his three-pronged hands snapping out to catch himself. During his shock at the fact, you somehow managed that, he feels two arms slip around his lower waist before you start to climb his body. 

Just as Raph went to reposition himself, he felt you plant your feet on the ground between his legs, your smaller body still pressed against his plastron, before you kick your legs up and push off the ground with your dominate side, the sudden action causing him to lose balance and fall over. 

Now straddling him, Raph had to take a moment to process what had just happened, not realizing all the training they had done had given you that much strength to be able to roll his bulking body. It was an obvious indicator that you’ve been holding back this week. 

You lean closer to his face, a sly grin slipping on your lips as his eyes widen up at you. "Pinned ya," You quote, internally giggling at the thought of using a Lion King reference in this position. 

Raphael felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest at your proximity, and he was sure if you got any closer, you’d hear it. He opens and closes his mouth for a moment, unable to form a proper sentence as his heart thumped in his ears, blood rushing through his veins and causing him to grow hot. Before he could die from sheer embarrassment at the fact you had this effect over the tough-guy front he held, a loud beep came from his shell.

You took a moment to process he was now staring at you expectingly, and with a rushed apology, you climbed off and adjusted your take top that had risen. Raphael made you messy, and messy made things dangerous. It took a moment for you to settle your heart as you inhaled deeply, eyes drifting to the brute as he sat back up and pulled out his T-Phone.

Raphael stands as he clears his throat, eyes locked on the screen while typing a quick response to whoever texted him before looking back at you. Back was his usual confidence as a wolfish smirk twitched at the corner of his scarred lips, "Hey Doll, how 'bout we call it a night and head back to the lair?" He glances over your form as if he has no control over his own eyes. "Mikey got yer' favorite pizza,"

That last comment had your eyes rounding in delight, a grin forming on your face. "Pineapple?" 

Raphael grimaces, "Yeah, Pineapple," The terrapin still couldn’t understand the thought of pineapple on pizza. It just didn't sound appetizing, though, he's never dared to try it. 

You were now smiling so big, it made the skin on your face glow in the light from the moon, reflecting the soft light of the stars. It was like a heavenly vision of perfection. Raphael felt as though his brain short-circuited for a moment as you said, "You don't have to tell me twice,"

Raphael could only blink as you quickly ran off, heading to the ladder so you could indulge in your strange choice of Pizza. 

"Red, I don't understand why I have to wear this stupid thing just to get a slice of pizza." You complained about the millionth time since you entered the sewers, your nose scrunched underneath the stinky fabric of the pillowcase. You had only got to the fire escape before the bara of a turtle stopped you, claiming if you wanted to eat your lovely pizza, then you had to follow some rules.

Which was ridiculous, but you wanted that damn pizza, and you’d do anything for it. Food was the way to your heart.

Raph rolled his eyes, catching your shoulder when you almost tripped over your own feet. "Jus’ trust me," Is all he says.

Upon entering the lair, his green eyes lock on his three brothers. Donnie stands beside Leo, knowing grins on both of their faces while Mikey is practically buzzing on his feet, his lips rolling into his mouth as he tries to suppress the chortles that are building up. They all watch silently as Raphael escorts you across the lair before pulling you to an open door, and nudging you inside a room with his knuckles.

Raphael could feel the nerves start to web around his heart, turning his attention to his brothers as they entered the room with you both. He felt so out of his element here, never being the type of guy to give someone a surprise that he had worked so hard on. Raph’s eyes slowly drift to his older brother, looking for an out but was only met by an encouraging nod and knowing smirk from the leader as they locked eyes.

Shit. Raphael swallows thickly, his palms feeling sweaty as he reaches over and grabs the top of the pillowcase, pulling it off in one swift movement.

It takes a moment for Your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you instantly start scanning around, taking in the room as Mikey throws his arms in the air with a wide grin on his face, "Surprise, Babette!!"

Your mouth slacks in awe at the sight, forehead creasing in confusion as you turn to look up at Raphael. An anxious look is on his face as he stares down at you, watching your reaction, lips flat.

"I-Is this for me?"

The largest terrapin nods, "Yeah..."

You can’t believe what you were looking at. The room was a rather cute setup, which looked like an attempt at a teenage girl’s bedroom. There was a stack of box palettes in the corner of the room, multiple thick blankets folded as a makeshift mattress, and pillows neatly leaning against the concrete wall (which looked oddly similar to the ones back in your bedroom). A few other things, like your stuffies—fucking embarrassing—and your bean bag chair, you recognized.

They made a room for you, and you had the inkling idea that your sister helped.

You felt a smile on your lips, knowing the guys most likely took these things from the apartment to set this up, but you honestly didn't care. You were more touched by the fact that they took the time to even do this for you.

Your eyes followed Mikey as he rushed around the room, shell nearly knocking a few things over as he spun around to face you with his candid grin, his blue eyes twinkling.

"So whatcha think, Babe?"

You didn't know what to say, "You guys did this for me?"

Leo smirked across at Raph, who was seeming to have trouble answering for himself at the moment, to caught up in the endearing look on your face, "We helped, but it was mainly Raph who planned it, and April gave us the stuff –  We all agreed that since you spend most of your time here, you need a room of your own so you're not sleeping on the couch."

Raphael lets out a long breath that he didn’t know he was holding as he watches your face brighten with a smile. He tries to gather his bearings as you slowly turn your attention back to him, the smile on your lips only curving higher, and he feels like one of his Sia’ pierces his heart at the sudden ache of wanting to touch overwhelms him.

Leo shares a silent look with Donnie, jerking his chin toward the kitchen before motioning for Mikey to come with them, and the three leave to give you both some privacy. You pay no mind to their departure as you glance away and walk deeper into the room, your eyes wide as you take everything in. It honestly wasn't bad, and it was honestly way better than your room topside. You can’t stop the smile that continues to grow on your face.

Raphael, who tracks your every move, takes a seat on the bed carefully being mindful of his weight. His eyes watch as you pretty much touch everything, your expression looking like a kid shopping for candy. It isn't until your gaze locks on a movie that you snap out of your reverie state.

You snatch up the movie and turn to face him, holding it between your fingers as a smirk replaces your smile, "Batman?"

He gives you a crooked smirk, gaze playfully sharpening only a little. "I only watched it once,"

You let your eyes dance around the room for a second, a mock look of curiosity growing on your face, "Did you bring breath mints too?" You question, referring to your first encounter with the brute. That night you and April discovered their existence; not only did you make a jab at his breath, but you also said he sounded constipated when attempting the Batman voice. It was a moment that was forever burned in both of your memories.  

A chuckle vibrates from his chest, "Shut up," His face shifts as he looks down.

You felt like a mess as you stood beside the shelf, the movie lying limp in your grasp as your heart went thump, thump, thump. All you could do was inhale through your nose as a new mood filled the atmosphere, and your heart started to insist on beating out of your chest the longer you stared at Raphael. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze finding his tattered shorts more interesting as he played with a drawstring that hung from the waistband. You made a mental note to get him some new clothes for his upcoming birthday.

Maybe it was the hit you took tonight, or the fact he had done something so, so sweet for you, but you couldn’t explain the feeling that suddenly takes hold of your body as your feet decide for you and begin moving in the terrapin's direction.

Being the observant ninja he is, Raphael quickly jerked his gaze upward upon hearing your light footsteps, his mask shifting as you came to a stop in front of him. If his heart was racing before, it was pounding now. With a soft smile, you reach a hand up, eyes searching his own for those walls he tended to build in moments of vulnerability. When you saw no indication of him doing such, you closed the gap and placed your hand on his cheek, your thumb softly rubbing the texture of his unique skin.

Raphael rarely showed his soft side around anyone, but it was times like these when he did, that you took advantage of it. Spending nearly every day with somebody for over four months, you end up learning a lot about them. Especially Raph, who could be really easy to read if you knew just what to look for.

At your touch, His eyes grow slightly hooded as he stares up at you, his breath catching in his throat as the muscles in his neck twitch, "Trouble…" His gravelly voice is surprisingly soft, softer than you’d ever heard from him before.

Raphael usually radiated power, his towering body just demanding attention as he walked into a room. Yet in this moment, all that exuding power was sucked dry the moment you touched him. This gives you the courage to lean in closer to him, gaze traveling over his face, taking in every scar and imperfection as you grow closer to him. You felt your heart rate spike when his eyes dropped to your lips and suddenly, they grew a shade darker, pupils dilating. His large hands slowly reach up and wrap around your waist, tugging your smaller figure closer to him.

The second he brought you closer, a small breathy sound came from your lips and your hands landed flat on the top part of his plastron. Raphael couldn’t help the deep rumble that vibrated out of his chest as your scent engulfed him, the vines of your favorite shampoo and body wash, mixed with the sweet sweat from your workout out was fogging his mind as it wrapped around and squeezed.

He felt the primal instinct to just reach up, bury his beak in the soft flesh of your neck and just taste.

Gripping the loose fabric of your tank top, he felt the tips of his fingers graze the soft skin just under the edge, and that feeling alone made his desires more severe. He licked his lips, intense gaze on your mouth as you mimicked his movement subconsciously. He smirked at that, realizing you were paying just as much attention to him as he was to you. Raphael was never good with his words, actions were more his way of expressing how he felt. That was why he made you a room, so you could have your own space, and maybe want to stick around longer (though you already practically lived there) he wanted you in the lair, so he knew you were safe from anything and everything. He was fucking crazy for you, and the thought made him tighten his hold around your waist as another churr vibrated from his chest.

Your body felt like it was on fire, a shiver going down your spine when you heard that deep rumble. What was that? You had thought when you heard it. None of the brothers had ever made a noise like that before, and you’d definitely be googling it, or asking Donnie about it later.

Even while standing, the hothead was an inch taller, his thick arms flexing as he all but pressed you against him, his legs spread and inviting you in. He hunched only a smidge, bulking form swallowing you as he dropped his snout to your neck as if he could no longer resist. You closed your eyes at the skin-to-skin contact, chills running through you as euphoria filled your brain. Was this what it was like to have him touch? Because if was, you’d get on your hands and knees, begging for him to do it again if that’s what it took.

“Raphael,” You whisper as you place a hand on the nape of his neck, your hands trailing his pebbled skin before stopping where his shell met his back. His body trembled at the touch to the sensitive skin. You crane your neck so he can have better access while he sniffs and nips at your soft skin. There was a tiny moan at the tip of your tongue when he trails up, leaning back just enough to hover his mouth over yours.

Raphael’s mind was reeling when he heard how you said his name in a breathless whisper, and he felt his tail twitch. The sight of your body pressed against him had a rough rumble coming from him once more, and the fact you were so small against his larger form didn’t help in the slightest. The size difference was blatantly obvious, yet somehow, you fit together perfectly.

Minds alike, they both want more. No. You both need more.

And just before your lips meet, a voice stops you both.

"Pizza's ready!"

Dammit Michelangelo.

You both instantly snap back into reality, and you nearly fall on your butt from how quickly you move away. Your mouth parts as you stare at Raphael, not knowing what to say or do at that moment. Your heart was pounding so strongly that you feared it would break your ribcage.

Raphael was your best friend, and you almost kissed him.

Rough features stared back at you, eyes slightly wide as he was unable to form words. He feared that he had just imagined it all. There was no way a girl like you would ever want to kiss a mutant like him, but as soon as a smile began to blossom on your face and you gave him a shy look followed by an amused giggle, he knew what just happened wasn't his imagination.

And so, he did what he always wanted to do from the first moment you opened that smartass mouth of yours and popped off.

In one swift movement, he was standing up and moving across the room toward you, his strong hands grabbing the sides of your face as he bent lower and crushed your lips together in a hungry kiss. You didn't hesitate to return the gesture. You slant your head as lips move quickly against his, hands falling onto the front of his hard plastron. You felt yourself move forward and step on his feet, leaning up on the tips of your toes, trying to deepen the kiss as his hands fell to your lower back, pulling you up.

Raphael began to walk you back wards and when your back touched the wall, that was when you snapped back to reality, and all movement seized as you slowly pulled your lips from his, eyes locking as chests rose and fell at a rapid pace.

Raphael stares down at you, one bulking arm bracing the wall beside your head as his eyes quickly scan your reaction, expecting to see regret and disgust pooling in those pretty eyes he had begun to love so much. Yet, as he stared at you, he realized you weren't looking at him like that at all, no, your eyes were clouded with what seemed to be admiration.

As if you could read his thoughts and hear all his insecurities, you reached up and ran your hands over his masked face, pulling him by the hanging tails to capture his lips in another kiss. This one is a lot softer than the first. And as you pull away again, three words leave your lips that sent his heart into a beating frenzy and made a toothy grin spread across his face.

"I love you,"

#bayverse raphael #reader insert #bayverse tmnt #bayverse mikey #bayverse donnie #bayverse leo #teenage mutant ninja turtles bayverse

[numinousmysteries]

Dancing the Tandava (3/10)

[on Ao3] @today-in-fic

Washington, D.C. 1993

It’s only a few months into her assignment on the X-Files and Scully has made it a point to arrive at the office on time. Still, her perplexing partner always manages to get there first. It’s as if he sleeps in this underground lair or he’s afraid to leave her alone in his sacred space. Neither would shock her.

She doesn’t have a handle on Mulder quite yet. His intelligence fascinates and intimidates her. Trying to keep up with his mental leaps leaves her breathless. His ideas are out there, but his hunches are correct an eerie amount of the time. The unexplainable phenomena she’s seen piques her innate curiosity even though none of it fits into her framework of the coherent, reassuringly knowable universe.

He has every right to treat her with disdain. He had her number as a spy (albeit an unwilling and increasingly disobedient one) from their first meeting, and her doubting nature and innate need to play by the book only slows him down. But he seems truly interested in her thoughts and ideas even if they don’t align with his own. She was mortified when she nearly stripped in front of him on their first case to show him the marks on her back, but he never made her feel embarrassed.

Her job is to keep tabs on him but the more cases they investigate together, the more inclined she feels to protect him and his work. Her loyalty is slowly shifting from the establishments she’s long unquestionably trusted to Mulder and his singular quest.

When she shows up this crisp November morning, he’s already at his desk thumbing through a file. He’s wearing thin, wire-framed glasses and a tie with a dizzying, Escher-esque maroon and olive pattern. She thinks he’s handsome, then pushes the thought away. Getting involved with superiors and co-workers is a habit she’s actively trying to break.

“Morning, Scully,” he says, without looking up.

“Morning,” she replies, coming to sit across from him. “Anything interesting?” She gestures to the file on the desk.

“That depends,” he says, taking off his reading glasses and making eye contact with her. This boyish smile and the gleam behind his eyes are already familiar to her. They’re signs he’s found a case that’ll likely lead them into trouble. It both scares and excites her. “How interested are you in the Fouke monster, a.k.a. the Southern Sasquatch, a.k.a. the Swamp Stalker?”

“I have to admit it’s never crossed my mind,” she says.

“Oh, Scully.” His smile widens. “You’re in for a treat.” He turns the file around so she can read it. The first thing she notices is an amateur sketch of a Bigfoot-like creature with red eyes.

“A giant, hairy creature first spotted in Fouke, Arkansas, in the mid-nineteenth century, the Fouke monster has been described as being over 10-feet tall with glowing blood-red eyes. In 1971, Bobby and Elizabeth Ford of Fouke reported that the creature had broken into their home. A neighbor actually shot at it, and supposedly made contact, but it wandered off into the night. That was the last sighting, until a week ago when a group of teenagers camping out at nearby Boggy Creek say he got into their tent and stole all of their rations, including two family-size bags of Doritos.”

“Is Doritos theft a federal crime?” she asks him with a raised eyebrow. He better have more evidence than the shaky testimony of some teenagers to go off. “Or do you just want to go Sasquatch hunting?”

“By the tone of your voice I can tell you’ve never had the pleasure of goin’ squatchin,’' he says, his hazel eyes lighting up as they meet hers. It’s almost enough to make her blush.

The shrill ringing of the phone on his desk interrupts them before she can respond.

“Mulder,” he answers. She can hear the garbled sound of a male voice on the other end of the line.

“My what?” Mulder shouts into the phone, startling her. “Who is he?...Okay, we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

He hangs up the phone and turns his attention back to her. “Change of plans,” he says. “The Fouke monster will have to wait. We’re headed to Montauk. East End of Long Island.”

While she’s partly relieved she won’t have to interview a bunch of stoned teenagers about their alleged monster sighting, the rapid shift in Mulder’s attention gives her whiplash.

“What’s in Montauk?” she asks.

“A historic lighthouse, the shark hunter who inspired Jaws, and actually decent surfing for the East Coast,” he says, grinning at her.

“And yet why do I suspect you aren’t going to ask me to pack a wetsuit?” she asks.

He gives her a shoulder shrug and a pouty lower lip. “I wouldn’t stop you.”

“Seriously, Mulder,” she says, starting to lose her patience. “Why are we going to Montauk?”

“A disoriented young man has appeared at a decommissioned army base and specifically asked to speak with us.” He’s already up out of his chair digging through a filing cabinet.

“Did he mention what he’s so desperate to talk to us about?” she asks, trying to see what files he’s gathering.

“He says he’s from the future. The year 2023 to be exact.”

Scully laughs. “Mulder, that’s ridiculous. He’s probably some UFO fanatic who wants to meet you.”

Mulder shakes his head. He’s taking this seriously. “I think you overestimate my popularity,” he says.

“What about Max Fenig? He said he’d been following your work for years and that he’s not the only one.”

“Well, no one else has ever claimed to be my son before,” Mulder says. “Or that you’re his mother.”

She’s immediately taken back. Mulder has proposed a lot of improbable theories and ideas during their partnership, but this one might be the most ludicrous. He’s already grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair but Scully raises her hand to stop him.

“Mulder, wait,” she insists. “I don’t have to tell you how ridiculous that is. While I can’t speak for you, I know I don’t have a child, and I can say with total certainty that we’ve never had one together. Besides, you said ‘young man.’ How old is he?”

“I don’t know,” Mulder responds. “The officer said early 20s. He didn’t have any identification with him.”

“We were children ourselves 20 years ago,” she says, barely resisting an eye roll. “I can all but guarantee you this is someone pulling a prank.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Mulder says. “But I have a feeling we should check this out. It’s not just what he said, it’s where he turned up.”

“Montauk?” she asks, confused.

“Not just anywhere in Montauk. At Camp Hero.”

“Yes, a decommissioned army base as you said,” she repeats.

“A supposedly decommissioned army base,” he grins. “CIA operatives at Camp Hero have reportedly been using extraterrestrial technology for experiments on everything from mind control and weather manipulation to the creation of wormholes for time travel. The project allegedly shut down in the 1980s when the base closed, but I’ve heard rumors that the work never stopped.”

He flips a file open on the desk facing her. Inside is a black and white photo of a giant radar tower and a hand-drawn blueprint of a building with rooms labeled “hypnosis lab” and “carrier oscillator.”

She tilts her head at him and squints. This is a lot, even for Mulder.

“So your theory is that you and I have a son who’s traveled back in time to—what? Come say hi?” she asks.

Mulder shrugs. “You said it yourself in your thesis: ‘Although common sense may rule out the possibility of time travel, the laws of quantum physics certainly do not.’”

If she did believe in time travel, this would be the perfect moment to return to her undergraduate days and choose a new thesis topic for her future partner to one day quote back to her.

“I know what I wrote, Mulder,” she says. “But that was a theoretical argument not a practical one. I was discussing the possibility of time dilation, an expanding or contracting of relative time as it’s experienced. There’s no science or technology that would actually allow someone to move forward or backward in time.”

“No science or technology that we know of yet,” he counters. “Let’s see what our boy cooked up in 2023.”

There is always the option not to leave with him—to stay in the office and write up a report while he goes chasing what is almost certainly a dead end—but she knows she’ll never choose that door. Instead, she retrieves her coat from the hook on the back of the office door and follows her frustrating, beguiling partner.

#xfiles #txf #xf fanfic #msr #xfiles fanfic #x files #the x files

[qvincvnx]

conrad @obeetlebeetle tagged me in a 10 songs / tag 10 people meme so here

1. Staring At The Sun - TV on the Radio (link)

lyrics -> I am the conscience clear in pain or ecstasy

2. Thirteen - Garbage (Big Star cover - link)

lyrics -> won't you tell me what you're thinking of?

3. I Want You - Marian Hill (link)

lyrics -> i've been so tired on the weekend / i've been holding on too tight

4. Take You Back - Orville Peck (link)

good banjo. good bass. lyrics -> I don't know that much, but I know about keeping score

5. You Keep Me Hanging On - The Supremes (link)

really good bass also. lyrics -> why don't you be a man about it and set me free?

6. The Love Club - Lorde (link)

lyrics -> "what about the kid?" / it's time the kid got free

7. Rich Girl - Lake Street Dive (Hall & Oates cover; link)

lyrics -> don't you know / that it's wrong / to take what is given you

8. Green and Gray - Nickel Creek (link)

lyrics -> he wonders aloud why feelings so strong make the body so weak

9. June Hymn - the Decemberists (Link)

lyrics -> heaven sent this cardinal maroon to decorate our living room

10. Right Moves - Josh Ritter (link)

lyrics -> am i making all the right moves? / am i singing you the right blues? / is there a time when i could call you / just to see how you are doin?

sorry if i tagged you earlier also. but! @sophelstien @pseudotsugas @persephones-flowers @deermouth @morhath @creekfiend @opold @faewaren @beatriceportinari @chaumas-deactivated20240115

#this was fun.

[thiefofcrows]

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 !!

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑(𝐒): Maroon, magenta, purple.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑(𝐒): Pumpkin and banana flavored things are my absolute favorite.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂: I really love alternative rock / alternative metal, R&B, and various pop genres ( especially the darker ones ). Some of my favorite artists are I Prevail, Linkin Park, Twenty-One Pilots, Nine Inch Nails and Billie Eilish.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄(𝐒): The Lion King, Encanto, Inglorious Bastards, Godzilla: King Of The Monsters, Jurassic Park and Peter Pan ( 2003 ). To Name A Few lol.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: Shadow & Bone, Person Of Interest, Elementary, Lost, The Good Place, Lucifer, Legally Romance ( 才不要和老板谈恋爱 ) and Schitt's Creek.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍: Drafts and a starter I owe ofc and learning German on Duolingo.

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: Stay open by Z.TAO, Diplo, MØ … bc it's my notification ringtone 😂

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: I'm watching several at once with @feilien, so … Person Of Interest, 99.9%, My Precious and Hot Blooded Youth.

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄: Pretty sure it was Guns Akimbo, again with @feilien lmao.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆: The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo and The Wicked King by Holly Black.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆: Nothing right this moment, but in general ... same answer as "Last series".

TAGGED BY: @shieldagentnatasharomanoff

TAGGING: @cruelprincae, @veitsia, @draconisa, @noblehcart ... and anyone else who's so inclined, feel free to tag me 😊

#you have confused me with some other thief. ( 𝐎𝐔𝐓. ) #what game was kaz playing? had he expected this? ( 𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒. ) #Thank you for tagging me these are always fun 😊

[lawliet-ryuzaki-ryuga]

Chapter 9

H X H ( ILLUMI ZOLDYCK)

CONTROL

WC: 1918

TW: some blood. 

masterlist

chapter 8 

A/N: HEHE I hope y’all enjoy the small parallelism!! Hehe..

Noa (pov)

It has been over 6 months since the last time I’ve come near any zoldyck. I’ve been busying myself with missions to occupy myself. 

“ I’ll kill y—.” 

I pass by him and quickly jab my hand right into his chest and pull out the individual’s heart. I watch the bodyguard of my target fall to the ground, landing with a small *thump.*

When I say that I’ve been busy, I mean I’ve been on my little bloodbath spree. 

I’m used to just isolating my target and getting rid of them, but I’ve decided to now just get rid of anyone and everyone involved with the target, not that I get paid any more… I simply do it for pleasure. some call me the queen of hearts, I hope you know it’s not because of my loving nature… oh no my dear, it’s because I love the color red… the red that pulses through your hearts… and because I love hearts..

“ What was that? You’ll kill me? Well, it looks like I killed you first.” I throw the little heart to the side and wipe my hand against my outfit. I look around and notice that the floor I’m on is beginning to pool around with a bunch of blood. I guess I can jump into the puddle of blood.. too bad it isn’t raining blood. 

*splat*

*splat*

I jump around until I hear a small creek in the distance… someone’s here, I jump to the corner of the room and wait for my new target.. 

“ Hm, what a mess.” The figure speaks.

Silva?! What is he doing here? I come out of the shadows to reveal myself to the intruder of my little play ground.

“ if you’re looking for anyone in this building they’re all dead, so I probably already got to who you needed already, just go take your picture of proof.”

“ Noa, what a pleasure it is to see you. Did you make this mess?” Silva questions while folding his arm across his large chest. 

“ A mess? More like my playground. And I can't say the same. I’ll be on my way.”

“ hmm, I see. If I may ask why you haven’t visited in a while with your family.”

“ I’m busy with work, trying to dethrone your family from the title of the best assassins.” I sarcastically comment

“ and you think you’ll beat a Zoldyck.”

“ Without question, now Goodbye.”

I kick the small puddle of blood on my way out with a loud *splash*. I walk out and climb out of one of the windows, and jump my way down from balcony to balcony until I reach my getaway car. 

Once I reach home I’m greeted by my 3 brothers who give me a small side look but turn back to whatever it is they were doing.  

“ Noa, come with me, I need to have a word with you.” My father speaks, instructing me to follow him. I follow and match my fathers pace until we reach his office. His office is covered in maroon silk curtains, each chair and table made of mahogany wood. With cushions covered in elegant and soft designs that represent small flowers, each embellished with some gold threads on the side. 

“ Yes father, what is it that you need?” 

“ I heard about your last mission.”

“ Is that so, that was quick, was I caught?”

“ Silva informed me that he saw you.”

“ Yes he did, I killed his target I’m sure. You’d expect a zoldyck to be faster.” I laugh.

“Mm, did he tell you anything?”

“ No.”

“ I see…. Very well, you may go.”

“ Okay.”

“ Noa, you have another assignment, it’s in your room.”

“ Heard.”

As I walk back to my room I see my young brother Shaytan, what is he up to? I watch as he walks into my room and closes the door behind him. Hmm, what a little mouse…

well every slytherin snake needs to eat. I walk slowest to my door and conceal my presence. I open the door in one swift motion, being sure not to trigger my brother’s senses. I notice that he begins going through my files.. hm he wants to see my assignments?

“Shaytan, what are you doing?”

Shaytan looks up quickly and backs away from my files. “ Noa, what are you doing here?”

“ Shaytan i asked first, and this is my room, the question is… why are you in my room?” I step closer until I’m a few feet away from him. I rest my pointer finger under his chin and thumb against his chin in grip so that he may lift his head upwards. He stays silent and tries to pull away but my grip on his chin tightens.

“ Shaytan, I said, What are you doing.”

“ I just wanted to see your next assignment.”

“Why ? Wanted to join?”

“ uh yeah…”

“ mmm let me see what the assignment is first.” I walk over to the stack of files and read over the list. 

“ no you can’t it’s a mission that will require combat, and you Shaytan are not ready.'' I close the file and walk towards my vanity to start gathering the supplies I’ll need after my shower. 

“Father says I’ll need to start my own missions soon, so let me go with you!”

“ Shaytan, tell me, what skills do you have? In fact, show them to me. If you can land one hit on any part of my body, I’ll let you join me.”

Shaytan begins his attack by using the assassin skill ‘period deception’, This causes the individual's action or position to be delayed by the perceived individual. Shaytan had already gone for his hit, attempting to give me a punch to my ribcage, but to a normal person or untrained individual, they wouldn't have seen him move. I move to the side swiftly using ‘ cloud motion’ which gives the illusion of me gliding on air. This technique is usually used to help to conceal the sound of steps. Shaytan proceeds with his hits until he’s out of breath and he’s huffing and puffing. I looked at where I stood and noticed I haven't moved around much besides going left and right to dodge his hits. 

“Shaytan it seems as though you have failed, a pity really… This is why you can’t join me because you will be weaker than your opponent. What was the number one rule I always taught you?”

Shaytan looks past his fiery red hair that covers his eyes,” never go against a superior opponent.”.  

“ Bravo, now leave my room.” I clap and point towards the doors of my room.

Shaytan gathers himself back up begins walking towards my door before i stop him in his tracks. “ Shaytan.. Never ask to join me until you're actually ready.”

“ Okay Noa.”

“ I love you Shaytan.”

He looks back at me but shakes his head and continues his way out of my room. I laugh to myself and gather my things to head for the shower of the night, before my next assignment. 

Illumi ( pov)

I stood there taking deep breaths in with needs of sweat dripping down my forehead and torso. I watch killua bend down to catch his breath too. 

“ Killua, I don’t understand why you keep trying to fight me, have I not told you, never go up against a  superior opponent.”

“ Illumi you were trying to kill me!”

“ No, I was going to see if you were going to listen to me, it seems like I will need to use extreme measures. Maybe then you won’t defy me.” I put my hand behind my back pocket to pull out a needle. I focus my nen to the needle to activate my ability. Although it’s not ideal to use a needle on my little brother, this will be the only way that he will listen, where he won’t accidentally kill himself. 

“Big brother what are yo-,” Killua stops speaking once i jam the needle into his head. Small droplets of blood fall from where his skin was punctured. I begin reciting the famous words our father once taught me, making sure he doesn’t defy my words and will always remember these words when put in those situations.  

I pat killua on his head and instruct him to go take care of himself before dinner. He looks at me in confusion, not sure what happened before, as all he remembers is us fighting. He nods and runs as far as he can from me, I walk out of the training room and to my room. I wash myself and make myself suitable for dinner, while doing so I catch a small glimpse of something shiny under my bed. I lean down to see what it is, and I notice that it’s a butterfly crystal stone hair clip. I lift it up to examine it, till I realize it’s Noa’s hair clip.

It has always been the hair clip she wore, she said it was a moonstone, she always loved shiny things. She would always explain how she loved her moonstones, and how it signifies love and passion, too things she’s always wanted. She would go on and on and I would listen, trying to make sense of it all, of all her words.

I carry the clip to my desk and place it carefully in the corner and walk out of my room and into the dining room. I notice that Father isn’t here yet, I take my place in our assigned seat and wait. We were never allowed to eat until father arrived, even if it meant we waited hours.

It’s around 10 minutes when father walks in and we begin being served the meal for the day. Not they it was very appetizing, I believe mother had instructed the butlers to add a bit of arsenic, as the food was a bit bitter.

“Well I do have some very interesting news for today.” Father speaks after he takes his first bite.

“ Oh what is it dearest?” Mother asks.

“ I saw Noa today, quite the assassin she became.”

“ Oh I have heard such interesting things about that girl, I believe she’s known as “ The queen of hearts.” She doesn’t leave any souls after a mission, and leaves such a huge mess after I heard.” 

“ Yes, I walked right into a bloodbath, by what I counted, she killed every single person in the building, 58 to be exact.”

“ Well we only know that it’s her because of the assassin network, but not a single person outside knows what that girl really looks like, let alone who’s the cause of all these mass killings.” Mother jumps in.

“ Ah that young girl that would visit and be with Illumi, A very interesting girl.” Grandfather laughs.

We all continue eating our food and father mentions a new assignment for me,” Illumi son, i think you should do the hunters exam, many of the upcoming cases need some information that you would only be able to maintain with a hunter’s license.”

“ Yes father, I’ll be on it.”

 We all get up finally and go our own way, I go back to my room and the others to wherever they wish. Once I’m in my room I look around at my room and begin to picture all the places I would be with Noa. Yet somehow all I could feel was this empty void. Ever since the day I told Noa I didn’t want to see her again, I haven’t felt anything. Even at the thought of her, I can’t remember the feelings she’d make me feel.. it was like anything and everything I had ever felt was ripped away.

No matter how hard I tried to focus on the emotions and feelings I felt at those past moments, I felt nothing. I shake my head and begin getting ready for bed. Once I’m done I walk back to my desk and grab the small clip, I walk and lay in bed and just turn the clip around, memorizing every little detail. With a last glance I lay it on the side table by my bed and turn the lights off. A small aura of light illuminates the room, which is coming from the small night light that Noa had once gifted me. She always knew I hated the dark.

#illumi #Killua Zoldyck #Illumi hunter x hunter #illumi zoldyck #illumi hxh #illumi zoldyck x reader #illumi zoldyck imagine #illumi zoldyck x you #illumi x reader #illumi x oc #illumi x you #illumi x y/n #Silva Zoldyck #Kikyo Zoldyck #Zoldyck #zoldyck family #illumi fanfic #illumi fanfiction #Hunter X Hunter #hunter x reader #hunter x illumi #anime #fanfic #illumi headcanons #illumi hc #illumi hcs #zoldyck siblings

[angelwiththeblue-box]

clothes sharing ….

i acknowledge that this has been sitting in my askbox for like two years however we're moving on from that (also this is so much longer than intended <3)

.

Chase was very particular about clothes. The texture had to be right, the size had to be right, it couldn't be too thick, and he couldn't layer certain clothes. He specifically re-tailored his mission suit so he could wear it without feeling like he wanted to rip it off. (He did appreciate the almost tank top design, with the leather cutting off at his shoulders to give way to a stretchier fabric. Still protective and more mobility.)

It wasn't like he was insistent about his clothes being a certain way just to be obnxious, he knew how people already saw him, no need to add fuel to the fire, it was just... how he was.

So when Kaz came around and started wearing his shirts (not on purpose or in any sort of malicious way, he just... grabbed the first shirt he saw, whether it was Oliver's or Chase's, and called it good) Bree shot him a look, wondering why he was letting Kaz do this, knowing that the shirt might be different after Kaz took it off, it would feel different, or be stretched out.

Unfortunately, Chase was very gay and Kaz looked really cute in Chase's clothes. (This was, to be clear, long before they started dating. Chase had a tendency to fall fast, feelings slamming into him like a bullet train and Kaz in his shirts was not helping said feelings.)

It was fall. Not cold weather, but cold enough that it warrents a jacket. Chase was the smartest man alive, he checked the temperature before the five of them went out. (It wasn't anything fancy, one of Skylar's friends was having a birthday party, it was mostly superheroes, but a couple of bionic heroes made the invite list, and a few regular people too, normos as the Mighty Med trio call them)

He had a good outfit for the day temperature, but as night fell and Chase and Kaz were heading back to the tower, the cold was starting to seep into his bones. (Oliver was hanging out with a couple of superheroes, and Skylar and Bree had beelined for the dance floor the moment they arrived.) Kaz leans on Chase as they walk down the streets, city life filling the silence the way it never did back in Mission Creek. Their hands brush together and a spark shoots up Chase's arm, and he's suddenly thankful for the darkness so Kaz doesn't see his face heat up.

"You cold?" Kaz asks, his shoulder nudging Chase's, and Chase shakes his head, trying to hid his shivering. "Chase."

"A little. But it's fine, we're almost at the Tower anyway." Chase says. (They still had about twenty more minutes of walking. Chase didn't mind the walk, he liked hanging out with Kaz. He wasn't as big a fan of the cold. Curse his California blood.)

"It's not fine, c'mon Chasey, you told me you'd tell me things!" Kaz whines. Technically, he told the team he'd let them in when he started feeling like... well like shit, but apparently it can be applied to feeling kind of cold too.) "Here, take my jacket." Kaz pulls off the sweater he's wearing, a dark maroon that complemented the white button up he had on underneath.

Chase immediately protests, "Kaz, Kaz, no, I'm fine."

"Liar." Kaz shoves the sweater into Chase's arms and works on cuffing the sleeves on the button up, one of his burn scars curling down his arm. "Chase, if you don't take the fucking sweater I will light myself on fire, so please just put on the sweater."

"Kaz-"

"Chase." Kaz's voice softens and he rests a hand on Chase's arm. "It's okay to let people help you, you know."

Chase nods, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He pulls on the sweater, preparing for the scratchy feel that certain sweaters have, but it doesn't. It's soft and worn out, and the sleeves are long enough that he won't pull on them. Chase knows, logically, that it was just luck that Kaz wore a sweater that Chase could stand to put on his body, but in his traitorous heart, he can't help but wonder if Kaz-

"I can feel your brain working from here, Smarties. I did notice your aversion to fabrics, I'm not an idiot." Kaz shoots him a smile, one that lights up the city and Chase wants to melt. "Now, c'mon." Kaz holds out his hand to Chase, who takes it with a small smile. "I think maybe we should have a movie night, just us. You warming up, Chasey?"

Chase nods, the heat emanating from Kaz better than any sweater.

#i hope this is good <3 #i got very sidetracked #and made it very cute #sorry its two years late #eli answers #eli writes #kase #chase x kaz #lab rats #lab rats elite force

[allamericansbitch]

Happy holidays everyone! Here’s the newest addition to my Creator Shoutout Series (december 18 - december 25)! For info about the series, I explained it in the first post here, but generally, it’s to show appreciate to editors and their creations that i love from the past week. To track this series or look at previous shoutouts, please check out the tag on my blog *creatorshoutouts. Have a great week everyone!

wednesday: enid sinclair gifset by @este

taylor swift: you’re on your own kid edit by @cruellesummer

barbarian gifset by @wongkarawai

scream: killers first lines post-reveal gifset by @summercohen

taylor swift: ‘tis the damn season graphic by @besavedbytheperfectkiss

schitt’s creek: astrology gifset by @ririvilliams

glass onion: benoit blanc gifset by @tennant

paramore: the news gifset by @jauffre

taylor swift: mine on the speak now tour gifset by @snownonthebeach

scream 2: sidney prescott gifset by @chaoticevils

barbie (2023): tumblr + reddit comments gifset by @robiinbuckley

taylor swift: evermore graphic by @midnightsdeluxe

alessia cara: in the meantime gifset by @usergif @antoniosvivaldi

paramore: the news graphic by @itconsumesyou

taylor swift: out of the woods gifset by @cherryslips

euphoria gifset by @aimeegbbs

abbott elementary x brooklyn nine nine gifset by @justaleapoffaith

taylor swift: bejeweled music video gifset by @ashleysolsen

it (2017) gifset by @kitherondale

wednesday: pantone colors gifset by @sith-maul

ted lasso: rebecca welton gifset by @pugsleys​

taylor swift: gold rush x mastermind gifset by @missegyptiana

paramore: the news edit by @h0peless--soul

wednesday: characters as taylor swift albums gifset by @reputayswift

taylor swift: snow lyrics gifset by @treacherous

euphoria gifset by @kiekiecarrera

wednesday: ‘every tumblr user has...’ gifset by @wednesdayadddms

glass onion: janelle monae gifset by @lousolversons​

taylor swift: holiday gifset by @rogerhealey

f.r.i.e.n.d.s: rachel and monica gifset by @ethanhunt

stranger things: ronance + dates gifset by @nancywheelor

taylor swift: paris single cover concept design by @ohgaylor

heartstopper: nick nelson + yellow gifset by @carloslouwho

the polar express gifset by @chaoticevils

taylor swift: winter symbolism gifset by @antoniosvivaldi

schitt’s creek: alexis rose gifset by @swearphil

stranger things: ‘every friend group should include...’ gifset by @wednesdayadddms

glass onion: a knives out mystery gifset by @haleyatwell​

taylor swift: the 1 x maroon graphic by @thisisustrying

wednesday: season one gifset by @tonishalifoe

glass onion: benoit blanc gifset by @saws2004​

taylor swift: labyrinth graphic by @treacherous​

ted lasso gifset by @castlesrichards​

glass onion: a knives out mystery + paintings gifset by @robiinbuckley

taylor swift: dear reader album concept design by @thefancyshit

legally blonde gifset by @universetopieces

heartstopper: nick and charlie gifset by @thatwasthenightthingschanged

taylor swift: christmas tree farm graphic by @sadbeautifutragic

glass onion: helen/cassandra brand gifset by @tessas-thompson

brooklyn nine nine: jake peralta gifset by @nicknellsons

taylor swift: 2022 wrapped gifset by @thatwasthenightthingschanged​

f.r.i.e.n.d.s: christmas gifset by @buffysummers

olivia rodirgo: sour gifset by @kiimtaehyung

f.r.i.e.n.d.s: monica geller gifset by @stydixa​​

#*creatorshoutouts

[g3minimars]

My Stan Marsh Playlist Pt.2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#south park #g3minimars #south park x reader #stan marsh #playlist #music #Spotify #SoundCloud

[wtf-a-psychoanalysis]

The Devil in the Sewers

Most of Matt Murdock's Clients bring a scent back from every where they've been but the sewers of New York was a rare one, usually from plumbers and city workers but he never would have expected it from an aspiring reporter and college student.

"Miss O'Neal, Its a pleasure to finally meet you in person." Matt extended a hand towards the direction of April O'Neal. " So what brings you to Hell's Kitchen?"

"Its about my friend, Casandra Jones, she was recently arrested for trespassing on private property then you were able to bail her out," said April. While talking, she had an eye searching for finer details that could point her to the direction she needed. And above the blind man's eye and near his hairline were two raised scars, as if something could pop out of them at any moment.

April continued, "Casey was a bit 'sussed' out by your immediate attention to her case, she told me to look into you, and I did. Particularly cases such as Karen Page and Frank Castle from your previous firm and there's taking down the Kingpin. Trespassing seems a bit too small for you."

"Its not about Crime or how big the client's name might be Miss O'Neal, its about defending the city of New York." said the lawyer. If his partners had not been absent that day, they would have backed him up. Judging by the light steps behind his office door. It sounds like Miss O'Neal had backup too.

The door opened, barely hissing a creek, as if the one who'd open it knows that ears are as powerful as eyes. But the smell that wafted through the air, damp, mildewy, mixed with various metals and so utterly New York, gave April's friend away as something not entirely human. Her heart rate starts to pick up, the friend was probably disregarding a possible "don't come in" that was said a couple blocks before.

"Who's your friend Miss O'Neal." Matt asked, this prompted her friend to almost saunter a bit closer to him.

"Othello Von Ryan! At your service!" exclaimed. The pride in his words were nothing to hide the fact it was a lie. It amused Matt, letting out a small laugh he continued.

"No really, what is your name?" Matt said, wanting to know more of this now disappointed character.

"Sigh," He sighed, "Donatello Hamato." Nothing in Matt's initial question pressed for his full name, however there was this mutual understanding that some transparency was needed. The whirrs coming from Donatello indicated he started up some sort of machine. The slight beeps and chirps and the soft "Oh" that followed was not a good sign to Murdock. If only he could see the sparkle in the purple clad turtle's rusty brown eyes, he would have been more understanding. Then Matt's hand made its way to sooth a tingling feeling starting to bubble at his temples.

"I apologise for cutting this meeting so short but can we talk about it some other time, I'm getting a really bad headache, I hope you understand." said the lawyer as the pain started to sting the scars on his head.

The young adults nodded to each other "We understand Mr. Murdocks. Feel free to call us at a better time."said April, making their leave out the firm's door. While the sound of the lock clicking into place gave some comfort, the pain hadn't subsided till the lawyer felt the warmth of his own blood dribble down his face.

A pair of maroon horns now rested on his head, like they had the night before and the nights before that. The horns that cursed him when he was blinded by the ooze that one summers day. As if the devil had change Matts DNA to make him more like himself.

To be continued?

Authors Note: We really need more Rise!Daredevil content. Especially involving the sheep dad of the year, Baron Draxum.

#rottmnt #daredevil #rise daredevil #rise april #rise donnie #matt murdock #mutant!matt #tw blood #tmnt #the devil in the sewers #fanfic

[thewinedarksea]

fox-red

ft. a flower storm, a debatably new witch, some rather hungry trees, and a much hungrier fae 

---

The last of the summer’s storms blew itself out in a shower of lily petals. Thirteen of them, to be precise, each one striking the pond out back at the same time and causing ripples to harass the once-smooth surface. Then the wind died, the light went a shocking clear white, and the clouds scuttled away, rejoicing in the upcoming months-long break. 

Veritas finished putting her kettle on the stove before she went out to assess the damage. Not much, in her yard, although there was a carnage of bleeding hearts on her tomato plants and the herb garden she’d fashioned out of a few plastic buckets and a refurbished diving helmet was now smothered with rose and marigold, the tips of her basil just peeking through the orangey-red heaps. Already the petals were browning around the edges, victims of time’s passage; next storm it would not be flowers at all but leaves and creek water and stripped-down sticks drumming upon her eaves. 

She made a half-hearted attempt to extricate her plants, leaving the hemlock more or less unburied, and raked most of the flowers up into a riotous pile of color set dead in the center of her lawn. Then she went back inside, took the now-screaming kettle off of the burner, poured herself a mug of ginger tea, reminded herself that she did want to do this, really truly honestly, and went back out to assess the far more important damage.

Storms meant many things in this stretch of Lirkin—that an omen had decided to be an ill one; that a god had gotten rejected by some mortal and was now throwing a fit to rival all else; that warm air had risen into cold. An inflorescent storm meant one thing and one thing only. The fae had been having a revel nearby and their merriment had overspilled its goblet and sloshed out in a thirty-mile radius. And, as self-appointed Witch of the Whisper Woods, it was Veritas’s job to see what sort of revel it had been and, having seen, clean up. 

Bundling her hands into her pockets, she set out into the Woods. They were an expanse of old growth and ancient growth and growth that had just decided one day that it wanted to go this way and not that, and as such paths weren’t paths so much as they were like sketched-out suggestions, winding and weaving through pockets of gossip and snatches of speeches not given and groves where late-night confessions haunted the trees and hollows filled with things spoken in anger that seethed and roiled as she splashed through them. Secrets clustered thick and drooping-heavy on the branches, shining like dark, luring lanterns in the afterstorm light. A solitary bird chirped somewhere in the canopy. She focused on it to keep the words from burrowing their way inside her skull and festering there. This was the trick to navigation—stoppering up your ears and not-stopping your feet. Most people, not knowing this, got about two yards into the Woods and promptly went insane.

Veritas was not most people. She braced her shoulders in the manner she’d perfected in her first (and last) semester of in-person college and forged her way like a maroon cardigan-ed arrow straight through and out into the clearing the fae liked to frequent, the big, elm-ringed one deep in the eastern stretch of the Woods. 

It was all churned up from the festivities, bits of banners and bone confettied as far as the eye could see. Magic hung in a thick haze. Veritas opened her mouth and took a cautious breath in, letting it get onto and under her tongue, swishing it around the pink hollows of her gums, and then she breathed it out—a sharp exhale through her nostrils that singed every hair in its exit. Caramel residue and a hint of crisp apple and decay. Candy corn grit stuck in her molars. 

Autumnal Court. 

A premature celebration, but not by much; the weather had gone a bit brittle around the edges, and the leaves were winding their growing song to an end, the darkbright middle stanzas of late summer ceding way to the lamenting keen of fall proper. And, if the aftertaste hadn’t been enough, there were all the signs scrawled for the world to see: antlers and apples and straw and red-speckled mushrooms and lost spirits hanging round the edges in a white-blue vapor like stressed cats she’d need to herd home again. Pumpkin guts splattered the field in gory orange, slippery beneath the treads of her boots. She moved grimly inwards, past a tattered dress, past scorch marks left by the Kindled King and his Cinder Court, past the scene where a hunting party had begun and another, much messier scene where it had ended. 

At least it wasn’t the Sugar-Spun Duke, Veritas thought as she made her way toward the feasting table. He had a nasty habit of turning up the moment summer started buckling and strewing the trees with tinsel and icicles, and she hadn’t gotten around to buying a new snow shovel.

Just as she reached the table, she saw what she had not when she entered, too busy trying to calculate how many hours this all would take and if she could manage it before dusk, because this was her first solo-revel and she hadn’t thought to bring anything to eat.

“Shit,” she muttered. 

The fae should have swept off with the storm. Should have. Had not. Instead, there was a straggler, sitting in one of the banquet seats—the only one still upright—and warping the tablecloth with their brown leather boots. Their eyes were the color of November skies and cold where they grazed over Veritas’s skin. 

“Who are you, to stand before me without a summons?” they demanded.

“I’m the Witch of the Whisper Woods,” Veritas said, and tried to sound like she meant it. “And you’re not welcome when the storms aren’t active, so I’ll need you to pack up and go right about now, and thank you kindly.” 

When the fae frowned, the world’s backbone bent along with Veritas’s. “There is no Witch in this Woods, child. Not for many years.”

“Yes, well, there is one this year. I’m taking over from Myrtle.” 

“You’re the granddaughter,” the fae said. Veritas had just a moment to be pleased that someone had heard of her existence before the next sentence stuck a pin in the emotion. “You don’t look like her.”

Like a witch, they meant. The observation didn’t sting anymore; just ached, dully, a bruise still yellowing around the edges. 

Veritas shrugged. “What can I say. Must have gotten all the recessive genes.”

The fae looked confused, and Veritas wondered if the faerie realms had discovered the concept of genetics yet. Then she unbent her dignity, shook it out with a sharp crack, and, with a pointed “If you don’t mind…,” kept on with the cleaning up. 

She began by gathering the goblets (still the gold of summer—must have been She Who Sings For the Mountains hosting, she’d always been a turn-season). After they’d been emptied, stacked, and placed to the side for later, she  tossed the leftover food onto the ground—good fertilizer, hearts—and gathered the cutlery into metallic bouquets.  

“How long have you been Witching?” the fae asked as she passed by to get at their bloodied forks.

“Depends on how you look at it. Hand me that plate, please.”

They didn’t hand her the plate. They did lean back in their seat, crossing their legs in a knot that didn’t follow any known rules of human anatomy, and pulled out a knife, spinning it between their sixth and seventh fingers in an idle, toying motion that made Veritas regret the lack of a high neck on her shirt. When she stretched over to grab the requested dish, her carotid pulsed as if it, too, were questioning her sartorial choices. 

“And how do you look at it?”

“Three months.” It was good practice to be honest with fae. They had a tendency to take the tongues out of liars and use them as decor pieces. “Or ten years, depending again. Officially, though, three months, and two days’ change. Might be a few hours rattling around in there somewhere, too, but I wasn’t really looking at the clock right about then.”

Table cleared, she stared at the boots until they swung down with a sigh that made her knees go a bit weak in the middle. Then she folded the tablecloth by hauling it hand over hand toward herself, silken fabric slithering through her grasp, and sort of folding sort of wadding until it was more or less square-shaped. That done, she went and began ferrying people and pumpkin innards from the middle of the grass to the outskirts, where the roots could get at them. 

The fae followed her. They had no shadow, made no sound, and their very presence punished the world, even the air seeming to hold its breath to keep from attracting their displeasure (or, worse, their attention). They also had the uncanny ability to always be standing in the exact right way to force Veritas to keep having to dodge around them  every time she turned around. At least they’d put the knife away. Not that their nails looked much better. 

“Do you know what happened to the last Witch?” they asked after a longer bit. 

“She went missing. Very missing. Trees probably ate her; they like to do that. Do you want to help out at all, or are you just going to stand there and ask questions I don’t want to answer?”

“I am going to stand here.” And then, as Veritas struggled to lift a particularly heavy gourd: “She’s not missing to me.”

The gourd slipped from her fingers, leaving a trail of slimy guts over her shoe. It was just like a fae, Veritas thought crossly, to take a conversation and nosedive it into the ground at a moment’s notice.  

“And why would you know where she is? Like, who are you? Besides spectacularly unhelpful at clean-up.”

Surprised, the fae blinked at her, and Veritas didn’t want to explain all the reasons for the gaps in her fae identification roster so she just stood and waited until the startlement gave way to amusement, bright as a maple branch in full bloom and vicious as the crack of it.

“I am The First Chill of the Year. I am the Eternal Harvest; the Leaf-ed Lady; Splendor, Unending. I am The Keeper of the Winds and They Who Bring the Rains. I am The End of the Middle and The Beginning of the End. I am—”

“You're the Queen of the Autumnal Court," Veritas clarified, and the fae’s amusement went a bit sour around the edges. 

“That is one of my titles, yes. Your kind tends to refer to me as Fox-Red.”

And now Veritas did want snow, shovel-lack be damned. At least that was easily dealt with. The worst the Sugar-Spun Duke did was be a too-early, pompous nuisance that enjoyed turning girls into elaborate ice sculptures and picking fights with other, more respected Lords of Winter. Her spine bent again, comma-ing beneath the knowledge that she was about to be the shortest-lived Witch to ever Witch. Her heart did something rabbit-like and frantic and burrowed its way down further into her ribcage. Her arms crossed in immediate covering of both of the earlier bodily betrayals. Veritas had survived both suburbia and high school—she knew better than to show fear.

“Your Majesty. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Do you know what happened to the last Witch, child?” Fox-Red repeated, and this time Veritas heard the tale implicit in the asking. 

She shook her head. Of course the Whisper Wood Witches had a tendency to meet sudden, swallowed ends at the branches of their own trees, but Myrtle had always been one of the cannier Witches. Her vanishing had surprised even Veritas, who thought she was quite surprised-out when it came to her grandmother. 

“I’m going to assume you did something.”

A quirk of a crimson lip. A flash of a needle-d tooth. Fox-Red moved closer, closer, and if their eyes had been cold their skin radiated it and they smelled of river water and bonfire smoke. Every bit of Veritas went hot with the flush of adrenaline, prey instincts unearthing themselves from where she’d buried them.  

“I made her love me. Months and years and decades I wore on her, unceasing, unrelenting, until that iron slip of a thing she called a will gave way beneath my might, and then I left her in her cottage to feel the lack of me. The seasons rolled past and she heard nary a footstep. Not until she grew sick from want of me. Not until she wasted and withered and left her post and sought me in those places where Witches should not tread and begged to hear me speak one more word, just one, so she might warm herself ‘round the memory of it when the winter came cutting its teeth on her windows frames.

“Look, child. See what power I have caught for myself.” 

At Fox-Red’s command, the earth unstitched itself, the meadow yawning hungry-wide. Down its loamy throat, held fast by roots that resembled nothing more than white twine rope, Veritas caught a glimpse of the woman who hadn’t raised her, because raise was a strong word, but certainly gotten her through the tricky early years of childhood in mostly one piece. 

Bones. Myrtle—her grandmother—she of the frog-croak laugh and a glare that could stop a giant in its tracks— was bones, and flesh in rotting strips, and blooms of fungi. Her hair hung wild and wispy white around her shrunken face. The many-colored often-patched coat she wore in all of Veritas’s memories of her had been reduced to a uniform brown and that, more than anything, more even than the rictus grin, made her vision blur around the edges. Then the earth swallowed her back down and knit itself back to shape and there was only the mostly uncleaned ground and Fox-Red and the memory of what had just been there, hanging around much more menacingly than all the ghosts. 

“I keep all the Whisper Wood Witches I ensnare here,” Fox-Red said, and alongside the shock sitting cold in her stomach sprouted up a sick interest about how many other of Veritas’s predecessors were beneath her feet, moldering as the fae wheeled overhead in their dances. “I have the largest collection of Witches in all of the Courts, you know.” 

What was one meant to say to that? Veritas grabbed blindly for words, managing to cram some into order. “Oh. That’s…very impressive.”

“I will keep you here when I catch you,” they continued. 

“You won’t catch me.”

“Myrtle said the same. I do not think she believed it.”

Veritas didn’t think she believed it, either, not really, but there was no rule about being unsure around fae so she didn’t take it back.

With a knife’s cut of a smile Fox-Red leaned in, bending so their eyes were level with Veritas’s and she could see herself in them: a small maroon dot stranded in an uncaring sky. When their hand found her cheek, blood beaded in vicious little kisses. 

“I think I will enjoy hunting you, child. I rather like the bossy ones.”

And then they were gone in a swirl of yellow leaves. Veritas stood still a moment longer, trying to make her fingers be fingers instead of white sticks wrapped around each other. Then, shakily, slowly, she bent to the task of cleaning once more, trying not to think too hard about who was under her feet. 

#fun fact fox-red is basically the polite way witches say That Bastard In The Woods #wrote this for the first week of october in which i was meant to write a scene a week and managed it for one week before wandering off to do #a bunch of prompts #my writing #mine

[valhikes]

White River National Forest, Colorado.

Dipping and rising through more amazing landscape, the trail got so faint that I was following the imprint of the last passer by through the grass rather than anything certain. Maroon Bells, the subject of the crazy popular "4 pass loop" came into view. Camp was hard to find because it was too close to that loop. From July 2014.

#backpacking #trekking #hiking #White River National Forest #Colorado #4 pass loop #Capitol Peak #Maroon Bells #landscape #nature #travel #hike #outside #mountains #Avalanche Creek #Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss

Time to get the motorhome back up and ready

WISCONSIN DELLS, WI: "Getting marooned at the Sand Bar"--something of a coy slogan for a tourist-town bar bound to attract as much locals as tourists, and bound to recall in Crazy Claws' mind the time he was driving the Original Wisconsin Ducks tour, and pulled off a corny number about "crossing the [sand] bar" entering Dell Creek off the Wisconsin River heading towards Lake Delton. "Which I meant as a coy little plug," CC was quick to add, "in the spirit of the Ducks' corny narration."

"Explaining, no doubt, its popularity," Huckleberry Hound was quick to add.

"Is it any wonder that the Ducks have this 'must-see' sort of charm even before the waterparks came along?" was how Crazy Claws replied as all three of us were having the Sand Bar's celebrated steakburgers for lunch.

"Oh, and just as reminder, CC," remarked I, "we were going to get our motorhome out of storage after all this time--"

"Diving with Peter Potamus and crew; I couldn't help but resist just how irresistable the diving experience can get with such a likable-looking hippo." (Brief pause) "And believe you me, the dive videos he shared with me couldn't help but be IRRESISTABLY ADDICTING ... especially wearing just yourself in a coral reef off the Virgin Islands and trying not to look embarrassed!"

At any rate, it came down to the business at hand: Getting the motorhome out of storage, getting rid of any storage-related smells (such as mothballs) and getting such in readiness for the summer ahead. "Starting, I'll have you know," Huck remarked, "Easter Sunday as guests of the Cattanooga Cats in Gatlinburg."

"And let me guess," Crazy Claws asked, "the Easter Parade."

"Which the feline quartet who never purr or meow," remarked I, "will be laying on. Literally impromptu, mainly in some of the back alleys of downtown Gatlinburg and the Parkway towards the National Park Entrance ... and returning to Cattanooga Klatsche."

"Their coffeehouse," Crazy Claws chimed in. "I thought I knew as much."

It took a modest little drive through wet and borderline slushy streets of Wisconsin Dells to find the storage shed where our motorhome was in storage since fall, as turned out to be on the south side in a somewhat ratty-looking metal pole building some yokel hath for the sake of vehicular and camper storage over the winter, and it took about ten minutes to get the manager of the storage building over to assist in unlocking and reclaiming the motorhome. After having to endure quite the garage-in-winter smell and getting some paperwork out of the way, the motorhome--that which we now share these adventures moving forward since last spring--was ours again.

But not without the inevitable smell of mothballs, bound to require some airing out just to make it sane enough to drive in. After an hour and a half or so of having to open the doors of the motorhome in a municipal parking lot just to air things out, as well as get some initial provisions for a couple days' on the road--not to mention air freshener simulating a "new car" smell, and the obvious refuelling with diesel fuel accompanied by the legendary Kwik Trip chicken tenders--

"Why not stay a couple days with me?" was how Crazy Claws parsed it. "Then, we could be on our way ... but not before I find some comfort with a lady bobcat like myself."

"I take it that it's mating season with your kind," Huckleberry Hound remarked.

"How did you come to that conclusion?" Crazy Claws added.

*************

@warnerbrosentertainment @ultrakeencollectionbreadfan @iheartgod175 @jellystone-enjoyer @funtasticworld @archive-archives @screamingtoosoftly @thebigdingle @themineralyoucrave @thylordshipofbutts @warnerbros-blog1 @theweekenddigest @groovybribri @zodiacfan32 @indigo-corvus @warnerbrosent-blog

#hanna barbera #fanfic #huckleberry hound #snagglepuss #crazy claws #wisconsin dells #lovethedells #getting a motorhome out of winter storage #over lunch #back on the road #hannabarberaforever

[powerfulblob]

Daily Entropic Float Post

the monarch is here!

CROWNPRIMROSE is at the core of the mystery of @nicohverse’s Entropic Float 2.

As the Anomalous Monarch: They are the sole ruler of the Pine Creek Anomaly, and seem to harbour a mysterious past...

To see more about Entropic Float 2, visit the Kickstarter page!

[ID: A digital fanart of CROWNPRIMROSE from the upcoming game Entropic Float 2. They are a person with dark skin, maroon eyes, and black hair. Their curly black hair is styled in bobs: Three on each side, with the hair between them tied in maroon wire. They wear two connecting pieces of gold on their head that are connected by a similar piece of maroon wire. They look calmly at the audience. They wear a red cape trimmed with white fur, and wear a grey, yellow, and white outfit beneath. Their cape is tied with a bow with a red jewel in a gold setting. end ID]

#CROWNPRIMROSE #entropic float #entropic float 2 #blob's art

[infernalrampage]

3 - 5 things your muse can be identified by

emotions / feelings. 

hope

anger

spite

joy

colors. 

deep red kind of like a maroon

black

yellow

orange

green

scents. 

cigarette smoke

citrus

warm vanilla

 fashion.

ripped jeans and chunky sweaters

gold jewelry

chunky doc martins and leather jackets

cropped t-shirts / sweaters/ chokers and tight mini skirts with fishnet stockings and tights

objects.

a key on a necklace

the keyboard in her childhood bedroom

a pack of lucky strikes

a record player and big headphones

her first cd

body language.

sitting with knees pulled to her chest

arms crossed impatiently

a sharp but confident smile

rolling green eyes

aesthetics. 

sunshine after a rainstorm

feet splashing carefree in creek

big frightened eyes

roller skates

an unmade bed

a sewing machine

#ʙᴇᴠᴇʀʟʏ ᴍᴀʀsʜ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴs