#and found that it was raining in Granite Falls

[victorluvsalice]

All right, folks -- we have hit Summer Thursday in the Chill Save, and it is VACATION TIME! I think Victor, Alice, and Smiler have earned one, don’t you? And after all, I made them such a nice little cabin last time to stay in -- be a shame not to use it!

Of course, I couldn’t have them leave in the middle of the night, which is when I normally stop my play sessions in-game -- so while Victor and Alice caught up on their sleep, Smiler made another computer chip (getting up to level 6 Robotics in the process) and tried giving one of the specters a zebra fizz they stirred up on their new bar -- unfortunately, the little blob wasn’t impressed. Fortunately Smiler’s silver tongue was able to smooth the situation over afterward and stop anything truly bad from happening. They also took care of the chickens, cleaning out the coop and scattering feed, before taking out the trash. Gotta make sure the chores are all done, after all!

Alice, meanwhile, got up just in time to do a little scavenging (got a time capsule, haven’t opened it yet) and get that last bit of werewolf XP to take her up to Prime werewolf status! She got the Grumpy Wolf temperament, meaning she now needs more naps. *shrug* “Wolf Nap” was one of the first abilities I got her, so hopefully this won’t be too much of a burden! And Victor slept in, did some last-minute recycling, and grabbed some groceries for their trip -- mostly because I was mean and gave the version of “Green Getaway Makeover” in this save the “Simple Living” lot challenge. XD Look, I felt it (and Wild Foxes) made sense for a cabin in the woods! But yeah, with that, they were all ready to head to Granite Falls for the next three days to close out summer!

. . .meaning, of course, when they arrived, it was raining. *sigh* Welp. I promptly tried to make the best of things -- I sent Victor and Smiler inside to amuse themselves while I had Alice transform and brave the drizzle to “Hunt For Food” as per her latest ability. I then started looking for the others to find ways to keep them occupied out of the rain. Victor was inside having a shower --

And Smiler was outside having one. *facepalm* And better yet, as they finished, the local park ranger, Kalama, walked up. She was initially shocked by Smiler’s state, but once they put on clothes and greeted her, naturally they were the best of friends. XD Good thing too, as halfway through their chat, Alice showed back up with a plate of fresh red meat to wolf down. I don’t think Kalama signed up for this in ranger school!

#sims 4 #the lazy save #victor van dort #alice liddell #smiler always #I was so annoyed when I finally got them out the door of the farmhouse #and found that it was raining in Granite Falls #damn it >( #this is their vacation game #at least their three days in the mountains weren't predicted to be a total washout #and it gave you a good opportunity to see everyone's umbrellas #but yeah I'm keen on having Alice hunt for her own meat :) #not only will it keep her belly full #she'll also bring home spare meat for the fridge! #thus saving on groceries #right on #werewolves are fun XD #queued

[cryptidclaw]

Cryptidclaw's WC Prefixes List!

Yall said you were interested in seeing it so here it is! 

This is a collection of mostly Flora, Fauna, Rocks, and other such things that can be found in Britain since that’s where the books take place! 

I also have other Prefixes that have to do with pelt colors and patterns as well!

Here’s a link to the doc if you dont want to expand a 650 word list on your Tumblr feed lol! the doc is also in my drive linked in my pined post!

below is the actual list! If there are any names you think I should add plz tell me!

EDIT: I will update the doc with new names as I come up with them or have them suggested to me, but I wont update the list on this post! Plz visit my doc for a more updated version!

Animals

Mammal

Badger

Bat

Bear

Beaver

Bison

Boar

Buck

Calf

Cow

Deer

Elk

Fawn

Ferret

Fox

Goat

Hare

Horse

Lamb

Lynx

Marten

Mole

Mouse

Otter

Rabbit

Rat

Seal

Sheep

Shrew

Squirrel

Stoat

Vole

Weasel

Wolf

Wolverine

Amphibians

Frog

Newt

Toad

Reptiles

Scale

Adder

Lizard

Snake

Turtle

Shell

Birds

Bird

Down

Feather

Albatross

Bittern

Buzzard

Chaffinch

Chick

Chicken

Coot

Cormorant

Corvid

Crane

Crow

Curlew

Dove

Duck

Dunlin

Eagle

Egret

Falcon

Finch

Gannet

Goose

Grouse

Gull

Hawk

Hen

Heron

Ibis

Jackdaw

Jay

Kestrel

Kite

Lark

Magpie

Mallard

Merlin

Mockingbird

Murrelet

Nightingale

Osprey

Owl

Partridge

Pelican

Peregrine

Petrel

Pheasant

Pigeon

Plover

Puffin

Quail

Raven

Robin

Rook

Rooster

Ruff

Shrike

Snipe

Sparrow

Starling

Stork

Swallow

Swan

Swift

Tern

Thrasher

Thrush

Vulture

Warbler

Whimbrel

Wren

Freshwater Fish 

Fish

Bass

Bream 

Carp

Dace

Eel

Lamprey

Loach

Minnow

Perch

Pike

Rudd

Salmon

Sterlet

Tench

Trout

Roach

Saltwater fish and other Sea creatures (would cats be able to find some of these? Probably not, I don't care tho)

Alge

Barnacle

Bass (Saltwater version)

Bream (Saltwater version)

Brill

Clam

Cod

Crab

Dolphin

Eel (Saltwater version)

Flounder

Garfish

Halibut

Kelp

Lobster

Mackerel

Mollusk

Orca

Prawn

Ray

Seal

Shark

Shrimp

Starfish

Sting

Urchin

Whale

Insects and Arachnids

Honey

Insect

Web

Ant

Bee

Beetle

Bug

Butterfly

Caterpillar

Cricket

Damselfly

Dragonfly

Fly

Grasshopper

Grub

Hornet

Maggot

Moth

Spider

Wasp

Worm

Trees

Acorn

Bark

Branch

Forest

Hollow

Log

Root

Stump

Timber

Tree

Twig

Wood

Alder

Apple

Ash

Aspen

Beech

Birch

Cedar

Cherry

Chestnut

Cypress

Elm

Fir

Hawthorn

Hazel

Hemlock

Linden

Maple

Oak

Pear

Poplar

Rowan

Redwood

Spruce

Willow

Yew

Flowers, Shrubs and Other plants

Berry

Blossom

Briar

Field

Flower

Leaf

Meadow

Needle

Petal

Shrub

Stem

Thicket

Thorn

Vine

Anemone 

Apricot

Barley 

Bellflower

Bluebell

Borage

Bracken

Bramble

Briar

Burnet

Buttercup

Campion

Chamomile

Chanterelle

Chicory

Clover

Cornflower

Daffodil

Daisy

Dandelion

Dogwood

Fallow

Fennel

Fern

Flax

Foxglove

Furze

Garlic

Ginger

Gorse

Grass

Hay

Heather

Holly

Honeysuckle

Hop

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Juniper

Lavender

Lichen

Lilac

Lilly

Mallow

Marigold

Mint

Mistletoe

Moss

Moss

Mushroom

Nettle

Nightshade

Oat

Olive

Orchid

Parsley

Periwinkle

Pine

Poppy

Primrose

Privet

Raspberry

Reed

Reedmace

Rose

Rush

Rye

Saffron

Sage

Sedge

Seed

Snowdrop

Spindle

Strawberry

Tangerine

Tansy

Teasel

Thistle

Thrift

Thyme

Violet

Weed

Wheat

Woodruff

Yarrow

Rocks and earth

Agate

Amber

Amethyst

Arch

Basalt

Bounder

Cave

Chalk

Coal

Copper

Dirt

Dust

Flint

Garnet

Gold

Granite

Hill

Iron

Jagged

Jet

Mountain

Mud

Peak

Pebble

Pinnacle

Pit

Quartz

Ridge

Rock

Rubble

Ruby

Rust(y)

Sand

Sapphire

Sediment

Silt

Silver

Slate

Soil

Spire

Stone

Trench

Zircon

Water Formations

Bay

Cove

Creek

Delta

Lake

Marsh

Ocean

Pool

Puddle

River

Sea

Water

Weather and such

Autumn

Avalanche

Balmy

Blaze

Blizzard

Breeze

Burnt

Chill

Cinder

Cloud

Cold

Dew

Drift

Drizzle

Drought

Dry

Ember

Fall

Fire

Flame

Flood

Fog

Freeze

Frost

Frozen

Gale

Gust

Hail

Ice

Icicle

Lightening

Mist

Muggy

Rain 

Scorch

Singe

Sky

Sleet

Sloe

Smoke

Snow

Snowflake

Soot

Sorrel

Spark

Spring

Steam

Storm

Summer

Sun

Thunder

Water

Wave

Wet

Wind

Winter

Celestial??

Comet

Dawn

Dusk

Evening 

Midnight

Moon

Morning

Night

Noon

Twilight

Cat Features, Traits, and Misc. 

Azure

Beige

Big

Black

Blonde

Blotch(ed)

Blue

Bounce

Bright 

Brindle

Broken

Bronze

Brown

Bumble

Burgundy

Call

Carmine

Claw

Cobalt

Cream

Crimson

Cry

Curl(y)

Dapple

Dark

Dot(ted)

Dusky

Ebony

Echo

Fallen

Fleck(ed)

Fluffy

Freckle

Ginger

Golden

Gray

Green

Heavy

Kink

Knot(ted)

Light

Little

Lost

Loud

Marbled

Mew

Milk

Mottle

Mumble

Ochre

Odd

One

Orange

Pale

Patch(ed)

Pounce 

Prickle

Ragged

Red

Ripple

Rough

Rugged

Russet

Scarlet

Shade

Shaggy

Sharp

Shimmer

Shining

Small

Smudge

Soft

Song

Speckle

Spike

Splash

Spot(ted)

Streak

Stripe(d)

Strong

Stump(y)

Sweet

Tall

Talon

Tangle

Tatter(ed)

Tawny

Tiny

Tough

Tumble

Twist

Violet

Whisker

Whisper

White

Wild

Wooly

Yellow

#cryptidclaw's warriors au #? #Im tempted to use these in the au #some characters deserve some more fun names hehe #rise of change #warrior cats #warrior cats design #warriors #warriors names #warriors naming #warriors prefixes

[ronaldofandom]

Glorious Akhtar

I just saw this fricken amazing artwork about bare-chested Akhtar from @belligerentmistletoe and was transported to a different realm.

In his honor, posting some bits from A Sinful Temptation that fit such a scene. Because that's what he is. Sinfully tempting.

....................................................

At that exact moment, he lifted his wet kurta to wipe his face. And she got a peek at his abs. His toned, chiseled abs. Which seemed to have been carved from granite. With hot, bronze skin stretching over them tightly. Glimmering with moisture. Wreaking havoc on her senses.

She stared open-mouthed, in stunned silence. In her defense, her body was just rooted to the spot. It would have refused to move or look away even if her brain had given the command. Her other senses had taken over, and they wanted to revel in the glorious sight of this hunky, masculine, erotic man. A man who would put even a Mills & Boons protagonist to shame. She continued to ogle as he hopelessly tried to untangle his stubborn hair. He finally gave up and smiled in despair. When he was about to look up at her, she quickly turned away and covered her face with the towel. Hiding in shame was the only reaction she was capable of in that moment.

Bheem looked at her wet form and figured that she would need a change of clothes quickly, or else she might catch a cold. He went into the adjacent room and picked out something from his sister’s cabinet. It was a new saree, her favorite. He figured it would be fit for Jenny, and carried it back to the room. Placing it on the bed, he called out to her, pointed her towards the clothes, and left the room to give her privacy to change, shutting the door behind him. Then, he went to the kitchen to make some herbal tea for both of them.

The tea was ready in five minutes, but Bheem waited for fifteen, giving her ample time and privacy to change. After 15 mins, he knocked lightly at the door. No response. He knocked again and called out her name. No response. He tried one more time, knocking harder. Again, no response. The lashing rain drowned out any other sound; Jenny hadn’t heard him at all. But he didn’t know that, and suddenly he worried if everything was alright with her.

He pushed the door open and went inside. And was extremely amused by the sight in front of him, of Jenny’s struggles with the saree. When she just wrapped the whole thing around her waist and ended up trapping her legs & nearly falling on her face, he couldn’t help but laugh, making her aware of his presence. Jenny turned around to admonish him for making fun of her helplessness but found herself at a loss for words. He was SHIRTLESS. Bare-chested. WET. He had taken off his kurta, making her gawk at his glorious Greek-God-like physique.

A usual, innocent, sweet Akhtar was hard to resist. A shirtless Akhtar was making her see stars and go weak in the knees. But, BUT, a shirtless and wet Akhtar was a Brahmastra. He was the Apple from the Biblical Garden of Eden - the ultimate sinful temptation to tease, taunt and torment mankind. She forgot what she was mad about. She forgot how to breathe, consciously having to remind herself of the motion. Why hadn’t he changed into another kurta yet? Was he trying to give her a heart attack? Her heart was convinced that it was the only explanation. While her brain chided her that she was occupying his room and his clothes must be here.

#rrr #tarak #jr ntr #ntr jr #bheem rrr #bheem #bheemjenny #jenny rrr

[sorcharavenlock]

15. The Camping Trip, part 1.

It is early Friday morning. We've all taken a long weekend off so we have plenty of time to find the hermit.

Bonehilda disappeared the day after Loki summoned her, so he has to do the dishes himself.

"Come on, Loki, it's time to go!"

Nea drives us up to Granite Falls. Her car is packed with camping gear, supplies and Loki's luggage. So much luggage...

It starts raining as we arrive at Granite Falls.

Kitty and I set up camp.

The rain doesn't stop Loki and Nea from having a water balloon fight!

Loki misses...

Very mature, Nea!

Nea doesn't! (I'm sure she'll pay the price for that later!)

Kitty and I finish setting up camp.

Why does Loki need so much luggage? He's a ghost!

The weather keeps changing and the sun comes out for a while. Granite Falls is a big area to cover, so I rented mountain bikes for us.

After practising around the camp for a while, we head off.

We head to the information kiosk.

There is no convenient marker for "hermit" on the map.

Loki and Nea cycle around while Kitty and I try to decide where to look first.

"I really don't know. My sister and I used to look for the hermit, but we never found him," Kitty explains.

There's nothing for it but to keep exploring the woods.

We stop by the lake. "I sense nothing mystical or magical in nature here," Loki says. "We'll have to head deeper into the woods.

We decide to leave our bikes behind and continue on foot.

"I've seen Youtube videos about bears fishing before," Nea says to Kitty, "but this is the first time I've seen one use a fishing rod!"

Loki keeps a brisk pace, we have to run to keep up with him. Soon we are lagging behind.

"We should have brought rollerskates," I say to Kitty. We could have tied a rope around Loki's waist and just let him pull us along."

It is getting dark and the weather is getting worse...

So we head back to camp.

I barbeque some chicken skewers...

...while Loki lights the campfire.

After dinner, Loki entertains us with a story about his past adventures.

From the look on my face here, I don't believe a word he's saying!

We go to sleep early. perhaps the next day we'll find the hermit!

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Luck and Stubborness

** I dusted off my laptop, and with rusty writing skills, managed this **

Being held hostage and the aftermath ...

************* Everything seemed to be moving slow. Her breathing, the gunman’s foot falls, the blood dripping from the gunshot wound inflicted only moments ago on the hapless, helpless bank teller whose hands had been shaking so badly she couldn’t work the key to the cash drawer.

She saw everything with a clarity she’d never known and given the crawling passage of time, she had every opportunity in the world to study the red color of the fresh blood, the gleaming gray marble-patterned granite of the counters, the one ray of sunshine angled across the room, late afternoon prediction of rain delayed until further notice.

She could feel the hairs on her arm move with the subtle breeze created as the gunman paced before them; she could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, thoughtlessly counting down, in steady rhythm, her impending death; she could taste the bitter adrenalin in the back of her throat and swallowed accordingly, only to find a sizable lump sitting there, waiting to create either a gallon of tears or a crescendoing scream.

She’d talked to her mother last night, shared gossip, made plans, told her she loved her before hanging up and then calling back because she’d neglected to tell her ‘good night’ as well. At least her mom would know and have no regrets of angry words or harsh toned judgements should she not make it to the next Sunday dinner.

Mulder had been on his way to pick her up, take her to the dentist, the novacaine she would inevitably get always gave her a headache and she preferred not to drive that way. She’d walked to the bank from work to deposit her check and he was going to meet her out front once his meeting had finished.

She’d seen him through the front doors just as the first shot had sounded to get their full attention.

She’d prayed he wouldn’t storm the doors and fall victim to bullet number two.

The gunman, stopping his walk, told them all to get on their knees. Scully dropped like a rock, her kneecaps cracking on the hard slate-tiled floor. She should have felt pain but she did not; she only felt the fear that one of her fellow prisoners wouldn’t adhere quickly enough and she’d see the second body fall in under nine minutes.

Nine minutes.

How had only nine minutes passed? Unlike Oregon, where nine minutes had gone by in a literal flash, these nine minutes had dragged on for millenia, minimum.

Bullet number three caused body number two, this one beside Scully, covering the side of her face with a splatter pattern of warm sticky blood. She hadn’t caught up to reality yet and wasn’t sure why the man beside her was now dead but she realized she’d better begin to pay better attention.

Moments and decades later, she’d lost track of the clock after they’d been moved to the other side of the bank, she heard the gunman talking on a landline cordless to what had to be the police. Mulder must have called them immediately from the street. He was out there, trying to get in, trying to save her, trying to …

The fourth gunshot echoed off the walls and victim number three, another teller, found the ground.

They were down to six now, two employees and four customers.

And then the strolling legs stopped in front of her, “who do you work for?”

She’d been asked that earlier, when one of the other hostages had been told to pat everyone down and hand in anything of interest. The man had mouthed an apology when he found Scully’s gun and turned it over. The gunman had asked then, in a screaming fit, who she worked for and replying ‘security for the Air and Space Museum,’ he had let it go.

Now, wracking her slugging brain for her answer, she hesitated a moment too long and was pulled out of line for her trouble, yanked by her arm, falling flat on her face, being pulled back upright with a shoulder pop that would ache for weeks–provided she lived long enough to feel it–, then spinning to face him, the whole time being screamed at, “don’t lie to me! I’ll kill you if you lie!!”

“Security. For the history museum.” The moment the answer left her lips, she realized her error and before she could take another breath, his hands were groping her, searching then finding her badge, which the original man had neglected to mention when his hand skimmed over it in her inside pocket.

That man’s head exploded moment’s later, then, as the body lay twitching a few feet from her, Scully realized her gun was now in the madman’s hands, and swallowing hard, she answered his quiet question of, “who do you work for?”

“FBI.”

And that’s when everything shifted from low gear to high, the swearing, the gun waving, the pistol butt connecting with her cheekbone in a spectacular crunch, the searing pain, then one gun pressed into the bone above her left eye and her own gun pressed above the right, “I should see if I can use you to get what I want. Sure as shit, an FBI agent ought to get me a little more; then again, might be fun seeing what’ll be left of your head once I fire both of these.”

She was going to die.

Shutting her eyes, she asked God one final time to please let it not hurt and to take care of her family and Mulder before sighing out a small breath and letting go, accepting the inevitable and removing herself from any connection to it.

Her hair moved as the bullet flew past her and, given the gunmen had, for a split second, been leaning over for a closer look at her, it cracked his skull wide open.

Some sharpshooter had been waiting for a clear shot and had taken whatever he could get, even if it meant singeing off some of the hostage’s hair. Scully wasn’t going to argue.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder was the second person through the doors and the first to slide to a stop on his knees beside her, scramble around to get in front of her, his hands on her cheeks, thumbs by her ears, holding her head steady to look at him, “Scully.”

She wouldn’t open her eyes.

“Scully. It’s me. Can you look at me, please?”

With effort, she shook her head.

“Scully … Dana … Honey, I need you to look at me.”

Shaking it again, she managed to get her hands up to grip his wrists, nails digging in.

He moved his forehead to hers, knowing she’d recognize the gesture if not the voice, “Scully, please, I need you to look at me right now; I need to know you’re back with me; I need to know that you’re alright.”

Her eyelids fluttered, opened once, caught sight of him, closed again, “it’s not my blood.”

Whispers couldn’t cut it right now with all the chaos surrounding them, “what?”

Voice an octave higher, “it’s not my blood.”

One mystery solved, he moved on to another, “you’re already bruising up. Did he hit you?”

Single nod.

“Fist or gun?”

Back to near silent words, “gun.”

“Okay. We’re going to the hospital. Can you walk?” Mulder started to stand, to help her up but when she didn’t budge, still kneeling amidst the insanity, he went back to her level, “can you walk?”

“He had … he had two guns aimed at my head.” Finally opening up her eyes to look at him, blue rings thin around dilated pupils, “are you sure he’s dead?”

Leaning forward, he kissed her quickly, “I promise you, he’s dead. His head’s in two pieces behind me. Humpty Dumpty will not be put back together again.”

Scully reached out, one hand on either of his arms but trying to stand, she cried out, her left leg twisting under her, “fuck.”

This she said loud and clear but everyone ignored it, except for Mulder, “what hurts?”

“Knee. He made us … I dropped down on it.”

“I can carry you.”

Already checking out of the whole situation, she shook her head, “just help me up.” Finally standing, gingerly testing her knee and finding it holding her weight, she didn’t know what to do or where to look, but, on accident, her gaze landed on what remained of her captor, and her stomach turned, “I need to go outside.”

Without question, he put one arm firmly across her back and under her arm and half-carried, half-guided her through the crowd, telling uniforms with questions that they’d have to wait. Outside, however, was no better, cameras, reporters, news vans, and tourists all craning to see who was the first to come out.

She should have stayed on the damned floor.

“Go back in! Go back in!”

He knew the feeling and turning them, he split the difference and sat her on one of the benches in the foyer, out of the roving eye of the media but a double set of doors away from her personal hell.

“Scully-”

“Just … just don’t talk to me for a minute .. just don’t say … just don't say anything.” Her hand was on her forehead, finding it still sticky with someone else’s blood but not knowing anything else to do at the moment, she kept it there, rubbing the two spots the gun had pressed against, with thumb and pointer fingers.

Her other hand was clenching and squeezing the air in a random configuration of digit  twisting, nail digging repetition and not able to handle it, Mulder reached out, touching her wrist, “let me see.” Taking the hand, he wrapped his two around it, bringing it up to his mouth and bumping his lips over and against each knuckle and dip in turn.

Skinner didn’t help by suddenly appearing, having been at the bank since Mulder had raised the cavalry some two hours earlier. “How is she?”

Mulder looked up at him, “not real good.”

“Can she answer some questions?”

She had drifted off again, blocking out pain, blocking out fear, blocking out everyone around her. It took Mulder saying her name three times and finally tightening his hold on her wrist to get her to respond, “Skinner wants to know if you can answer some questions. No one else is in any shape to talk.”

One, two, three deep breaths in and out, she mashed every feeling, every ounce of herself down before finally looking at Skinner, who was by now crouched in front of her, “what do you need me to tell you?”

It took another ninety minutes for her to finish her account of things. Mulder was, by then, crawling the walls, itching to get her the hell away from all this … get her someplace quiet, safe, get her off the adrenaline that continued to course through her veins and show itself in her still dilated eyes. About to step in and tell them all to go to hell, Skinner announced she was done and turning to Mulder, “I suggest you get her to a hospital.”

Belaying that order with her own, “Take me home, Mulder,” she stood and walked slowly towards the outside doors, where the crowds had thinned somewhat.

“She needs to see a doctor.”

Mulder could only shrug, “it’d be easier to bring the hospital to her. She’ll go if she needs to and I sure as hell can't make her go before then.” Scrubbing his face with his hands, Mulder gave his boss one final look, “make sure no one bugs her for a few days.”

“Let me know if she needs anything.”

Nodding, he headed after his partner, who, once he caught up with her, never even noticed he was there.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Are you sure?”

By now, she was down to nodding, the quiet car and Mulder’s hand on her arm serving to slow her heart and begin to empty her system of the fight or flight drug that she’d been flooded with since the moment she saw the stranger’s gun. Her eyes kept slowly shutting, stuttering back open, unfocused closing yet again.

He had just asked for what would be his third and final time if she’d like to go to the hospital, just to have them check her out.

“Where do you want to go then? Your place or mine or your mom’s?”

“Mom’s at Charlie’s tonight with the kids.”

Executive decision to go to his place, simply because she was going to be asleep way before they got to hers, he navigated around corner and down straightaway, his hand on her wrist the whole time, until he parked once again.

Getting her upstairs was easy, but she stopped just inside the front door, quiet but unmoving. Skirting around her, he locked the door then, hand on her upper arm, “are you awake enough to go get changed, then go to the bathroom so I can clean you up?”

Her eyes were rolling again as she watched the room fade and reappear, drift sideways and back upright, wobble and calm, “what?”

Repeating himself, he added, “I can help with whatever you need.”

“I need clothes.”

She managed to undress and redress herself while he went and found a bag of frozen vegetables for her face. Hearing her footsteps towards the bathroom, that’s where he headed, finding her seated on the closed toilet, staring at the wall. Without a request for permission, he soaked a washcloth and began cleaning the blood from her face, avoiding the blossoming bruise on her possibly broken cheekbone. Pulling crusty bits from her hair, he told himself they weren’t brain fragments but simply clumps of dried blood.

Finally, as clean as he was going to get her, he focused on her bruise, holding the towel-wrapped bag to her cheek, noticing not so much as a wince from her when the cold met her skin. Taking one of her hands and placing it so she could hold the bag herself, he then wiggled up the pant legs of her/his pajamas to check on her knees.

Two large bruises were forming, the left knee looking swollen as well. Catching her eye, “how are they feeling?”

She had to think about it but eventually an answer of ‘I don’t know’ came back.

He didn’t dare touch them in case one of the kneecaps was cracked but that would be a problem a minute, an hour from now. “Let’s get you in bed then. I think you need to lay down.”

“Couch … please.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Complying with the couch request, he settled her in the corner, legs propped up on pillows on the coffee table–pulled forward to accommodate shortness–, blanket tucked around her, head resting where the cushions met. “You hungry?” Hand still holding vegetables to face, he could just make out her head shake of ‘no’ so he continued, “Would you mind if I eat?”

“Go ahead.”

Sandwich in hand, he carefully sat on the opposite end of the couch, back to the arm so he could watch her. He stared quietly while he ate until Scully finally shifted her eyes in his direction. He expected her to yell at him for staring but instead, she stared back, eyes blank and flat. Not about to push her yet, he waited, swallowing his last bite, then shifting a little to rest his head on the soft back of the couch, never blinking, never deviating from her gaze.

Ten more minutes they sat like this until Mulder reached his hand out, “time’s up for ice. I don’t want to freeze your face off.”

Surrendering the now malleable bag of barely frozen peas, “I’m going to need a haircut. The sharpshooter bullet singed off some of my hair.”

He’d smelled the burning hair when he got to her in the bank but hadn’t said anything, “I didn’t realize you knew what happened.”

This avenue of thought died then and there for another, “was I really in there almost two hours before … during …” she couldn’t find the end of that sentence but Mulder understood.

“Yeah. Longest two hours of my life.”

He had the kind of eyes that women locked onto, vibrant green to muted hazel depending on light and mood. The first victim has an emerald green pin whose color had mesmerized her, made her think of him, thank God he wasn’t inside, thank God he wouldn’t be hurt. His eyes now, however, were paled to dark sea glass, shadowed by the gathering clouds and graying skin of exhaustion.

“Scully?”

The room was noticeably darker than it had been a moment ago … or was it an hour … would time always work like this for her from now on? “What?”

“You haven’t blinked in five minutes. You okay in there?”

“Time isn’t working.”

He sat up, concern instant, “what?”

“Nine minutes felt like a lifetime in there, then two hours passed, I only started looking at you a moment ago and you say it’s five minutes.” Swallowing hard, she could feel her hands beginning to twitch, “something’s wrong.”

Thinking back to the aftermath of August Bremmer, “the shock’s setting in. Tell me what to do.”

Her hands were beginning to jump and she was getting cold. Forcing her memory to sort through med school detritus, “I need to lay down. Put my feet above my head.”

Mulder did as told, gently sliding her legs around and then her body down the smooth leather. Legs over the opposite end of the couch now, he then covered her with the blanket once again, running to fetch his comforter as well. Once she was buried, “do you need any water?”

A sheen of sweat had broken on her forehead and he could see the blankets move as her hands rattled and shook, her arms joining in, “no. I … just hold my hand.”

Doing more than that, he first found her hand, holding it under the covers and against her belly while his other hand reached up, stroking her forehead back and forth with his thumb, palm resting on the top of her head, “do you need a hospital yet?”

His hand shook with hers.

“No. I’ll tell you if I need to go.”

“Well, I’m reserving, right now, the right to override you if I get too freaked out.”

Quiet for a minute, he noticed that she visibly turned green, then grey, then white. Already moving for the trashcan by his desk, he had it beside her just as she leaned sideways, the words ‘sorry’ passing her lips before the vomit did. Sitting up before the second round shook her soul, she leaned over, back arching, pain in her face exploding, knees protesting, pulled shoulder pinching, blood vessels breaking across her face and chest.

He had to swallow hard to control his own gorge from rising.

But he held her thigh and the can in front of her, waiting until the universal all-clear sign of head nod/lean back/I need to get away from the smell shift in posture. Once she’d made it all the way back to cushions, he stood up, “I’m going to go clean this out. Will you be okay for a minute?”

Suddenly, exhaustion took over, and opened her eyes to find him, feeling empty and drunk and weightless, “can you get me to bed first?”

Really wanting to clean out the nastiness in the can in his hand, he set it on the coffee table, reaching out to help her, “yeah. Hand me the comforter on your way up.”

Shuffling her to the bed, he got her in, thick covers back in place, and thankfully, her hand shakes back down to minor twitches. Resting his hand on her shoulder, he leaned in, “do you still feel sick?”

“No.” Her eyes were already closing, “just come back when you’re done.”

Kiss to temple, he went and cleaned up, trying his best not to puke himself while he scrubbed the can. Finally, all clean, he went back to the bedroom to find her fast asleep. Setting down the can, he retrieved the book he was reading, opting to quietly climb up beside her on the bed, hearing the faint sounds she was already making in the back of her throat, the nightmare already forming in the forefront of her mind.

She’d be awake soon enough.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It came out of nowhere, the lightning unnoticed but the booming clap of thunder loud enough to shake the room. He jumped at the sudden noise, but Scully bolted up, arms flying out in both directions, catching him on the chest with one while smacking the edge of the nightstand with the other. Shaking, eyes tightly squeezed shut, she began moving her lips in what took Mulder a moment to figure out … she was whispering the ‘Our Father’ as she quaked, caught in a waking nightmare.

“Scully, it’s me.” His voice was barely louder than her offered prayer, and he said it again, “it was just thunder. It’s just me and Mother Nature, I promise.”

No response, so he reached over, tentatively scooting to sit beside her, legs vee-ing around her, hand running lightly up her arm, mouth on her shoulder, “I’m right here. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, I swear.”

If that sank in, he didn’t know but soon, she turned her head to look at him, her cheek swollen, skin bruised and tight, “is it still today?”

“It’s only been about a half-hour since you fell asleep so yeah, it's still today.”

Taking in deep breath after deep breath, she scooted out of bed, away from him, her knees protesting as she tried to stand and ended up leaning on the mattress, shoulder a dull ache. The breaths came faster now, her fist pounding the pile of covers, “God Dammit! It needs to be tomorrow so this can all be over and done with!”

He moved to sit in front of her, pressing her hands against his thighs, “it’s not going to be over for a long time, you know that.”

“I just want today to be over …” switching from anger to heart wrenching sobs, “I just want today to be over. Just … can it be over? Please?”

“The only way to do that is to go to the hospital and get those ‘happy’ pills they like to give people for pain.” Critical look aimed at her, “why don’t you want to go? Just get checked out?”

Defeat was now evident and as the fight left her, however miniscule it had been, she made her way painfully back onto the bed, “because they’ll make me talk to someone. Skinner will need to know and he’ll call in the trauma psychologist and they’ll make me talk to them about what happened and I don’t want that and I don’t need that right now and I just want to sit here with you and,” her voice wavered, “just be here with you.”

Tapping his index finger against her foot, “give me two minutes.”

He reappeared with a granola bar, a spoonful of peanut butter, a bottle of Ibuprofen, and a glass of water. Taking charge, he held drugs and water out to her and after she swallowed without argument, he unwrapped the granola bar, dipping it in the peanut butter, “eat this. It’ll settle things down.”

Not sure she cared which way was up anymore, she did as told, handing him the empty spoon a minute later.

Taking it, he set it on the side table, “why don’t you come back out to the couch and we’ll find something to watch and we can watch for lightning so we’ll know when the thunder’s coming. We can prop your legs up like before and if you’re upright, maybe your face won’t hurt and while we’re out there, I’ll hold you really tight and nothing will be able to get you and you can sleep if you want without worrying.”

Honest to God, she relaxed a little, “that was a lot of ‘and’s.”

“Just come on.”

They first perused the weather channel to find that storms were lined up one after another until well into the wee hours of the morning. Forewarned, Scully gingerly held the refrozen peas to her face, “what would you like to watch?”

“You.”

He said things like this at times, just to mess with her and it worked, half a genuine smile ticking up the unswollen side of her face.

He then grinned himself, “or we could just flip through until we both agree?”

They did and as the next storm knocked on the door, they watched reruns of ‘I love Lucy’ and ‘Three’s Company,’ interspersed with ‘The Flintstones.’ The rain and thunder made it loud at times, the TV no match for the lashing of wind and water against the windows. She searched for and found his hand under their blankets, holding tight until she came back to reality, to the understanding that he was still there, the only one in the room, the one who would never hurt her.

Once another episode of whatever had ended, Scully reached for the remote, clicking the TV off, sending them into relative darkness and quiet, the latest storm having rolled past and the next not here quite yet. By now, she had her head in his lap, lying on her side, pillow between her knees to relieve the pressure on the now noticeably less swollen but still painful joint. Given the pillow under her head, her face was still elevated, the drugs having kicked in to bring all her pain down to manageable, except for one …

Mulder’s hand had been playing absently with her arm, running up and down, starting at shoulder and moving to wrist, in slow, steady rhythm …

And it took a moment for him to realize she was crying.

One sniff gave her away.

Moving his hand from arm to neck, he began stroking his thumb over her ear, behind, along her jawline, not saying a word, waiting on her for all eternity if he must.

It didn’t take quite that long.

“I gave up … at the end. I never tried to fight him or overpower him and … I gave up at the end.”

He hadn’t expected that.

“What do you mean, ‘gave up’?

She didn’t move to blow her nose or swipe at fast falling tears, instead gripping his thigh, kneading muscle, “in those last seconds, with both guns to my head, I asked God that it might not hurt too badly; that he would take care of you and my family; and then I just … floated away.”

“Floated?”

“I said goodbye to my life, then, accepting that I was going to die, I retreated.” Rolling to her back, carefully, painfully, she looked up at him, eyes still streaming, “I watched him pointing the guns at me from outside of … myself.” Going quiet for awhile, thinking, debating, the tears slowed while Mulder watched her, studied her, before she continued, “I saw the body on the floor on the other side of the counter, I saw everything … from … above. I think … I think maybe God was already taking me but then decided to shove me back in my body once the bullet left Harper, it was Harper, right?” Mulder nodded, “Once the bullet left Harper’s gun.” Shutting her eyes, another tear ran out and down through her ear to disappear into her hair, “am I crazy? The FBI trauma guy would have gotten that out of me and I can’t …you’re the only one I could ever tell that to.”

A few moments later.

“Mulder?” She slowly sat up, fear in her eyes, “why are you looking at me like I’m crazy? You’re not supposed to do that.”

“I’m not. I promise.” Standing, he motioned for her to lie down again, pillows back in place, then, kneeling beside her, “you didn’t give up. You accepted your fate. They are two very different things in my opinion.” Toying with the flyaway hairs framing her forehead, “you’re kind of running in familiar territory right now.”

In the decades she’d lived through today, she had forgotten about Bremmer and that field, “What did you think about?”

“At the end or the whole time?”

“Both, I guess.”

Shifting his other arm up beside her so he could rest his head on his hand and continue touching her, “at the beginning of the walk, I thought about your laugh and how it always makes me smile, and as I kept walking, I thought about you in that blue dress you have hanging in your closet, and by the time I was kneeling in the dirt, gun hovering, sweat pouring off of me, all I could think of was that one time I danced with you.” He didn’t look embarrassed at his declarations, statements of fact more than deep confessions, but he turned pink anyways, slight shrug and smirk, “can’t control what goes on in your head.”

They had somehow missed the lightning, and the corresponding thunder made her jump, whimpering when her teeth clenched together and put pressure on her cheekbone. Leaning forward, he ran his lips lightly over her forehead, “I’ll go get another round of Ibuprofen.”

“Thanks.”

&&&&&&&&&&

He’d coaxed her back to bed around midnight and at her request, had slid in beside her. No idea how long he’d been asleep, he woke up to something. Listening carefully, he only heard silence but reaching over he found Scully gone, the sheets still warm but cooling fast. Looking around, he saw the bathroom dark so she had to be in the living room or kitchen. His feet hit the carpet a moment later and shaking his head to wake up, still feeling mostly asleep, he headed out of the bedroom.

Living room was also dark and empty so walking around the corner to the kitchen, he found her stockstill in the middle of the floor, standing amidst the wreckage of what had to be at least two of his cereal/soup bowls.

And she was shaking.

“Scully?” Sliding his feet along the floor, he pushed luckily large ceramic chunks aside, “Scully.”

He watched her chest rise and fall, grasping for any bit of oxygen that floated by. Fists balled and pressing into her temples, she had her eyes shut, caught in her own little world of terror. Not sure if he should touch her or not, he instead said her name again, “Scully, it’s me. You’re safe. It’s just me.”

No reaction on her end so he finally reached out, hands on her wrists, trying to pull her arms away, down, but there was a fight, her muscles locked on one task only and they’d be damned if they’d quit now.

“Fuck.” She began swaying forward as he pulled so giving up that route, he instead put his hands on her neck, thumbs back at her jawbone in a reflection of earlier and leaning in, kissed her, saying her name every time he broke the connection.

After a good fifteen times, she finally responded, her hands moving to hold his head, the veneer cracked, the tears falling, the air moving, the muscles relaxing. Holding him to her this time, she kissed him back, then, whispering into his mouth, “I thought about you. I thought about my family, too, but mostly, it was you.”

“What did you think about me?”

Tears were flowing now, her voice becoming soggy and slurred, “about how I would never get to tell you how much I love you; that you mean the world to me; that I should have kissed you years ago when I first realized I wanted to.”

He kissed her again, this time with a purpose other than distraction. Knowing he had to let her breathe, he pulled back, moving her head so she could see him and understand him without question, “I love you  and you mean the world to me and I should have kissed you years ago when I first realized I wanted to.”

With a wet chuckle that made her cheek hurt, she winced but smiled, “those are my lines.”

“No they’re not.” Kissing her again, “I didn’t only think about you in that blue dress.”

Even though her shoulder protested, she wrapped her arms around him, being careful to rest the unbroken side of her face against his chest, “we’re so stupid.”

Maneuvering, he picked her up, “yeah, we are. Come on. I don’t want you walking through here and slicing a toe off.”

He could only make it to the couch given he discovered he had a piece of bowl embedded in his foot after all. Putting her down, he sat on the coffee table, trying to use the streetlamp reflection to dig out the shard. “Do you want me to turn on the light?”

“No.” Holding up a piece so small she couldn’t see it, “I’ve got it.”

“Do you need me to go get you a bandaid?”

He grinned at her, “you’ve slipped into doctor mode. I think you’re gonna be okay.”

Not smiling back but giving him a good look, “you think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Twenty minutes later, the kitchen floor was clean, Mulder’s foot was Neosporined and Bandaided, and they were both on the couch, Scully’s knee propped up yet again.

The rising sun was just beginning to turn the sky purple-gray and Mulder, his hand wrapped well around hers, “you made it to tomorrow.”

Tightening her grip for a second, “I honestly never thought it would get here.”

“But it did and it will be infinitely better than yesterday was.”

Another moment or three passed before, “I'm sorry I broke your bowls. I was debating which one to use then one must have slipped and hit the floor and …” shugging, “the next thing I knew you were kissing me.”

Turning on the cushion, he gave her a long look, “there were several minutes in-between.”

She heard his silent request, “give me a little while, okay? If it keeps happening, I’ll go talk to someone.”

“Deal.”

“Also, if you wouldn’t mind, could we maybe go to the hospital later on? I think my knee is worse than I thought.”

A second smile in her direction, he leaned forward, kissing her again, “you are a mess, young lady.”

“But still here … held together with luck and stubbornness but still here.”

“Luck and stubbornness, indeed.”

#msr #MulderNScully #x-files #x-files fanfic #still here #held together #with luck and stubborness

[violettduchess]

A/N: This was an ask I got a few weeks ago. I wanted to wish them happy birthday right away so I answered with that and then took a screenshot of the request so I could refer to them as 🎈Birthday Anon🎉 when I was done!

🎈Birthday Anon🎉: Your request is finished. And I think it comes at a good time when some Gilbert fans (myself included) are a bit shaken by what we saw recently concerning his actions. I wasn't sure if or when I should post this but then I got this ask today:

Alright, palate cleanser it is. Here is Gilbert, the way I still imagine him

Gilbert x f!reader

a bit of angst, a bit of comfort, a bit of spice

Word Count: 1161

The letter is still laying on the desk in front of you, Sariel’s small, slanted handwriting like black ants marching across pale parchment. You already know what it says. You’ve read it a dozen times and each time the barbed missive rips out a small piece of your heart. You knew that leaving Rhodolite to join Gilbert in Obsidian would cause a reaction. What you didn’t expect were the waves of hostility from the newly-appointed king, Chevalier Michel, the man you had selected, to reach you here. The force of his anger, his utter disappointment in you, is crushing. 

Sariel’s cool, neutral wording of the way Chevalier publicly denounced you still stung, acid rain burning holes into the thin canvas of your heart. You had hoped he would be more understanding. You didn’t choose to fall in love. You thought you would remain in Rhodolite, take Chevalier’s offer to become the royal librarian, and build a life there, in the palace with the princes you had come to know and grow deeply fond of. But Fate had different plans, sending delegations from Obsidian, Jade and Benitoite on Coronation Day, and placing Gilbert von Obsidian right in your path. You were two elemental forces headed for one another on a collision course mapped out by the stars. He was your destiny, you were his. There was never going to be another outcome. It was always going to be Gilbert.

And yet.....Sariel’s words scalded still, the force of Chevalier’s anger blazing across the lands like a firestorm.

This is how Gilbert finds you, slumped back in the ornate wooden desk chair with its clawed-feet, staring at the letter even though the words have long since run together, your vision swimming in unshed tears.

“Häschen,” he says gently as he moves behind you, his gaze scanning the desk. He spots what he expected, another letter from Rhodolite. Anger, white-hot and forged in fires of hate that were burning long before he met you, runs through him, zig-zagging across his body like lightning. How dare he cause you such pain?

“Come.” The word is light but there is no denying the command in it as he curls his fingers around your wrist and pulls you away from the desk, from the smolder of the king's anger. You follow but your steps are wooden, stiff. You don’t want him to see how the King’s displeasure affects you. You don’t want him to blame himself for your feelings.

Your faint words of protest are ignored as Gilbert takes you out to one of your favorite places, the private balcony off of the study that overlooks the gardens. While they do not compare to the cultivated roses of Rhodolite, you have found beauty in the wild, thorny growth of those stalwart flowers that manage to blossom in earth that is too dry, air that is too cold. You walk to the granite railing, palms running over the cold, gray stone as you take in the garden filtered through the dusty light of evening. A part of you wishes you could disappear into the shadows below, let them wrap themselves around you and shut out the world, even only for a little while.

Gilbert places his hand over yours. “You should no longer open those letters.” 

You want to borrow some of the granite’s essence, allow it to soak into your hands and then bleed its way through your body, granting you strength. Drawing in a breath you shake your head. You shrug one shoulder. You become beautiful, polished stone.

“Words don’t bother me. Sariel can write what he likes. Chevalier can fume all he wants.” You aim for neutral but somehow, your tone doesn’t quite hit the mark. There is a fluttering edge to your words that betrays the true fragility underneath.

He knows you too well. He knows your mind and the paths of your heart. He has walked them himself. Conquered them. Loves and cherishes them. His hand leaves yours, rising instead to capture your chin and tilt your face up so he can see you. So you will look at him.

“Liebling,” he says in a voice as soft as the evening breeze. “Schau mich an. Look at me.” 

You raise your gaze to him and see nothing but warmth and concern in his eye. “You are allowed to be sad. You can miss Rhodolite and the friends you made there. You can even regret the way that,” he pauses, searching for a word that isn’t too violent, too incendiary for your house-of-cards mood, “that....Trottel....is feeling. But do not try to hide your hurt from me.” The hand on your chin tilts and cups your face, his thumb running over the sensitive skin of your cheek. “Do not ever hide things from me.”

Unbidden your lips begin to tremble and the unshed tears reemerge, this time spilling down your cheeks, over his fingers.

“I’m sorry-“ you start to say but the words are taken from you by Gilbert’s kiss. He steals them before you can release any more, melts them in his mouth and returns them to you as affirmations of love, of acceptance delivered by his lips and tongue. Those hands hold you against him, press you tightly against the length of his body. You tried to pull the essence from the stone railing before but now you feel it crumble, a mountain reduced to mere pebbles by the man you couldn’t deny from the moment you saw him.

He breaks the kiss, touching his forehead to yours.

“No apologies either, Häschen.”

Miraculously, a small laugh escapes you, a tiny glowing thing in the face of what seemed like insurmountable darkness.

“If every ‘I’m sorry’ results in you kissing me, I may find myself feeling extremely apologetic. And often.”

He leans back slightly to look at you, his beautiful mouth lifting in a grin.

“Is that so?” That voice, that richer than chocolate, smooth as cream voice.

 You wrap your arms around his waist, locking him in place.

“I’m sorry but it’s a fact. I’m sorry if that is going to cause problems, but it’s just unavoidable. I’m sorry to say that so bluntly but—” You’re cut off by Gilbert managing to lean down and literally sweep you off your feet, lifting you into his arms while at the same time capturing your mouth with his, a low growl springing from the back of his throat and landing to ignite the sparks of heat running through you.

Against your lips he murmurs something about women with smart mouths and putting those mouths to better use as he carries you back inside, making a beeline for the red velvet couch in the study.

As he lowers you down, you sink not just into the soft material, but into the knowledge that with Gilbert, you don’t need to encase yourself in stone. He will always hold your butterfly-wing heart safely in his hands. 

📜

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @gilbertvonobsidian

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen gilbert #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #gilbert x reader #angst #comfort #kisses #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #violettwrites #he does it all

[lamentingwclf]

🐈 Lean against my muse’s side

Nonverbal RP Starters

It's a rarity for them to find an evening that is as still as this. The windows of the cabin are open, creating a cross breeze that smells thick of honeysuckle and earth right before rain starts. It mingles with a small fire crackles in the hearth, not for warmth, but something to fill the space with sound. He doesn't startle anymore, when a log cracks and the pieces break apart into ash - a small victory he keeps just to himself. Between it and the constant buzzing of insects outside, he's found a peace in the constant ambient sound.

Here, it is silence that worries him.

For once they are not fighting, or trying to steal moments of peace. Neither is bruised or battered. And the quiet that settled between them as he finished cleaning up from their small dinner was comfortable.

It's all so domestic, he can't help but think as he comes around the counter, slinging a towel over his shoulder and rests his hip against the granite top with crossed arms. His gaze rakes over her, the long legs tucked up beneath her, hair wild and untamed. He's too openly fond of the image of her clothed in his shirt and boxer briefs - stolen out of necessity the first night here - and what he knows lurks beneath the fabric. She'd apparently found a book in his endless stacks that has grabbed her attention, but it's the unguarded expression that stops his heart.

It's easy to forget how young she is, with all the power and wisdom she radiates. That she is, in fact, just a woman. It is these moments of candidness that prove how undeniably smitten he is.

The towel is tossed aside, and Bucky is crossing the room in a few long strides. He falls onto the couch beside her in an almost amorphous way, and it groans beneath his weight. It is a testament to how often he has done this that it still holds its integrity. Temple and cheek meet the cool flesh of her arm as he nuzzles in and takes to reading over her shoulder.

@writteninscarlet

#writteninscarlet #s : of a heart that's filled with fear #if she'd chosen to dance - i'm not responsible for what feelings ensue #q. the white wolf rests

[adamantinetower]

Gerbilgod Year 3: Mausoleums

I’m next in line for the Tumblr Succession Fort, with @proudautisticcomrade having preceded me. The game is overseen by @dorfposting​. I’ve had my attention split quite a bit these past few weeks n’ days so I admit I’m not as well versed in the Fortress’s history as I probably should be. But its an angle I can make work.

This ended up being quite a long post with many images, so here’s a readmore for everyone’s sake.

First of Granite, year 153 in the fortress Ërtongnòm: Gerbilgod

Well this is a right mess I’ve found myself in. The latter end of the past year has not been kind to this fortress, so much so that I - a passing stranger - have found myself thrust into the role of overseer for the time being. As shocking as this is, I am loathe to turn my back on my fellow dwarves.

My first order of business is to carve out a place to put all those poor souls to rest. Monuments for those wholly lost, and coffins for those whom we can still find some remnant of. No dwarf will go unhonored. It is the patience, or rather the lack of it, of the dead that has me worried.

The design is something concocted in quick desperation to appease both the living and the dead. A central hall for monuments, large enough for our immediate needs. Off of this will be dug space for coffins. The rooms are meager and the hallway narrow, but I’m afraid that such spaces is the limit of luxury we can presently afford.

After all, a vile force of darkness is upon us.

 It hasn’t even been one day yet.

8th of Granite:

Praise the Gods, the siege was short. The small band of invaders swiftly dispatched by visitors loitering outside the gate. With that settled, I’ve ordered it lowered. I hope to gather what wood we can.

13th of Granite:

I’m convinced this fort is cursed.

A terrible winged beast with the gift of flame has come to us. The thing arrives by way of the muddy caverns that much of this fort is built into. I pray that the hands that this fort was previously in had managed to plug any unsecured holes.

Not making matters any better are the returned spirits of our fallen warriors.

Ah, brave souls! If only you yet lived to protect your home!

17th - 19th of Granite:

The beast has disappeared from sight, and we are out of wood. If there is a way for it into the fortress, I hope it takes it through the monster hunters and poets that live under our roof.

It is not all ill news, however. Despite the goblin attack, we are met with an elven caravan. In the chaos I haven’t had much time to assess any needs trading could alleviate, and with the rain of abhorrent sludge impeding the gathering of plants and trees I have to consider-

What.

This... Odd little warrior has scarcely stepped foot in the bog surrounding the fort before his intention to steal one of our beloved rings was made known.

Huh.

He does not seem compelled to act peaceably, and so I send the militia to contend with him.

24th of Granite:

Tragedy and outrage!

While my attention was elsewhere a deadly brawl broke out between some monster slayers and citizens. Our poor Mayor and one other of our own died in the conflict.

To add to the outrage the beast Ongor had snuck up and, just outside the very tavern, claimed the lives of two children.

The rampage continues unabated. Fire and fang claim dwarf after dwarf.

The hunters continue to do nothing.

Tragedy after tragedy, crisis after crisis. I don’t know if I can salve this.

The beast did fall, its last victim - and opponent - a stray puppy. It decapitated the poor creature, but died soon after. I know not the cause. Did a God finally take offense to this last act? Did it die to its own fire and smoke? I don’t have the time to find out. The dead keep piling up.

13th of Slate:

twice now within the past week two humans have come with ambition to steal Tamemoon, and we are unable to really offer much in the way of resistance.

Damn it all. I’m shutting the gate.

20th of Slate:

Migrants! Oh, praise the miners. A large mass of manpower that brought our struggling population up to 77 from a floundering... 44? 40-something. With all the death I didn’t dare keep count, lest I tempt fate.

I hope we have enough room for everyone.

3rd of Felsite:

The construction of the catacombs is going achingly slow. Not helping matters was our manager having no office. With that fixed, hopefully all will go more smoothly.

The fortress also has a new artifact to its name!

A grate will be useful in some project later on, I’m sure.

2nd of Hematite

Summer graces the land, and some measure of stability has been tentatively achieved. The mood in the fortress is dour and our wood supply has run fully dry. I have assigned some to work as woodcutters, but the lack of action has me suspecting a shortage of tools. Hopefully some new iron axes will solve that problem.

11th of Hematite

A human caravan from Erianthath has come! Bless them. Hopefully they come with tools.

14th of Hematite

The rock itself trembles. Another great beast has come to claw at our walls.

Fortunately for us it lurks in the lowermost caverns, of which there is no present entry to our fort. None that I am aware of, at least.

Unfortunately, that means my plans to breach the cavern for a sludge-free source of wood will have to be put on hold. Without a military proper I dare not face it.

1st of Malachite

Our human guests are still here, and have handily dispatched a prospective thief. Why so many seek Tamemoon, I’ll never know.

The caravan, alas, had slim pickings. I bought two bins of both woolen cloth and leather, as well as some cheese and cheap cages. In exchange we gave them a bevy of stone trinkets and worn clothing. Not the most glamorous of goods, but I made sure to be generous enough to entice them to bring a larger selection in the future.

[breaking character to note that I’m experiencing a bug where the diplomacy menu is unavailable. The diplomacy popup just disappears when I click on it. Hopefully that wont have any lasting consequences.]

There are rumors of a new overseer to arrive by the start of next year. I confess that I hope the rumors to be true. I was an ill pick made of desperation. Still, Hopefully I can stay the course well enough that the fortress will be prime material to be shaped by more brilliant hands.

The catacombs, though rough, are slowly being filled with coffins and bodies. Ghosts are being laid to rest as monuments start to fill the hall.

Outside the fortress our new lumberjacks make quick work of producing lumber for our otherwise idle carpenters.

4th of malachite

A small wave of migrants brings the fortress up to a population of 84.

Tamemoon has also been stolen. It appears that it was held within one of the bins of goods I had brought to the depot. Out of pride I will have the guard investigate this. Privately, however, I am glad if the thing would disappear. Perhaps now we’ll have less trouble with wayward brigands.

24th of Malachite

Our broker accused a human maceman of the theft. Good enough for me, I thought, and ordered the conviction. The man now lies dead.

I should probably care more. Meh.

Unrelated to that I’ve decided to cover up and wall off the pit outside the tavern. There was probably a plan for this, but I’m desperate to avoid another Ongor disaster.

14th of Galena

A monster of the surface, for once!

Thankfully it is one vulnerable to cages. With traps in place in the entrance. I had thought to simply raise the alarm and let the thing stop itself. Unfortunately, a spat of children and one dimwit of a carpenter remained outside. The carpenter, one Urvad Onuculdist, perished. The children, however, seem to have made it out alive. One of our two hammerdwarves slew the beast.

This does bring to mind, however, our woefully sparse defenses. We also lack a water supply within the fort itself. I doubt I have time to fix it wholly, but I can try.

Ghosts continue to rise as we struggle to find corpses and engrave slabs fast enough.

23rd of Galena

The Oily Chestnut has been enclosed!

The drawbridge is linked to one of four new levers I purpose built for new defenses, on the main floor, off to the side of the central stairwell.

It has been labelled for clarity of use. With industry on pause I doubt I can make a fully outfitted death tunnel in time, alas. But perhaps I could get one started...

1st of Limestone

Autumn has come, and with it a vile force of darkness. Raise the gates! Hunker down! We still have food and drink enough down here to last us. What we don’t have is manpower enough to fight them off.

Unfortunately, a Gelder was lost when trying to lower the gate for them. Our outside livestock is also being slaughtered. The herbalist Dumed also didn’t make it back in time, and was slaughtered in a tree.

9th of Limestone

The cheesemaker Olon Cattenbidok is not accounted for, and we can only assume they to have perished outside. Damn it all, if only there was some way we could properly fight back...

18th of Limestone

The raiders have dispersed and a caravan from the Mountainhome has arrived. With them comes news that, yes, a new overseer will arrive in the coming spring. All I have to do, then, is keep the place from falling apart.

For next year I requested an all-around spread of weapons, clothing, trap components, cages, cloth and leather. Toys for the little ones as well.

An axedwarf, meanwhile, has slipped into a depression. This can’t be good.

15th of Sandstone

Another axedwarf has slipped into depression, the both of them being among the monsterslayers currently residing in the fortress.

I have been permitting any and all such warriors to stay, even if there are no monsters to be had. Hopefully they will eventually petition for citizenship as a soldier, wherein they can help quickly bolster our military.

I’ve made a new squad to host two human warriors who have already done so, along with some other citizens that have some skill with weaponry. For now the squad is simply standing by. They’ll need barracks and a place to train, hopefully I’ll remember to get around to it.

In other news, a small band of migrants has come to the fort, bringing the population up to a servicable 92. With some careful management I’m sure much can be done to bring this fort back on track. Straight after that, a stonecrafter by the name of Fikod was possessed by a strange mood, and claimed a crafter’s workshop.

17th of Sandstone

Another forgotten beast has come.

Thankfully, it would appear that the Oily Chestnut is secured enough to keep the beast out. We can hear its rampage outside the walls, and feel the heat of its fire warm the rock. But for now, we are safe.

1st of Timber

Fikod emerges from his mood, holding high the newest artifact to the forts name!

A bright moment amidst all the gloom.

I have also allowed entry to the inactive magma workshops, that the bodies left there may finally be buried. I’m embarrassed that they slipped my attention for so long. Hopefully this will greatly improve our ghost problem. I’ve had to extend out the memorial hall for all the monuments!

18th of Timber

A guild of craftdwarves, aptly named the Company of Crafts, has formed and requested a guildhall.

Following the sensibilities of my predecessor, I have designated for one to be dug out in the shape of a hammer.

1st of Moonstone

Winter is upon us. My tenure as overseer is nearly done. For these last few month’s I aim to get some things cleaned up and smoothed out. Try to finish more bedrooms, perhaps. The catacombs continue to fill up with what few remains can be found.

In hindsight, a few erected slabs may have been made in the honor of those that languished in the magma workshops. Ah well, the poor souls aren’t undeserving of it.

9th of Moonstone

Damn it all! The depressive slayer, Zaneg, has toppled the still in a mad tantrum. Hopefully the damage wont go beyond that.

1st of Opal

Better late then never is my motto for these last few months. I have constructed the beginnings of a death tunnel. Though we don’t have much materials as of yet, with enough weapon traps this worm of a passage should defeat most any invaders without us having to lift a finger.

The drawbridges and their levers have both been labelled. The levers themselves being among those Constructed on the main floor.

Along with this I thought to dig out a section of the dirt portion of the mountain to become an enclosed grazing area. It seems that it’s shaping up to be more stone than dirt, but it gives me an idea. Why not expand up into the mountain? After all, just this much into the area has revealed limonite and coal both.

3rd of Obsidian.

Word has come from the Mountainhome that the next overseer is on their way. Looking back, there's much I could have done differently. Hell, there’s much I could have just done.

My biggest regret is not making a special place of rest for our fallen major. Jv rests among the rest of us. But who knows, perhaps that is what they’d want.

10th of Obsidian

One more beast to see me off!

This one, to, arrives via the muddy caves. I wonder if its kin with Paboz? I had hoped the two would kill each other, but Omus would soon fall after a prolonged battle with a blind cave ogre.

25th of Obsidian

My last act as overseer is the designation of digging out an inside pasture further up the mountain.

To you who succeeds me: good luck.

#Dwarf Fortress #Succession fort #gerbilgod

[auroragoth]

The beauty of Granite Falls

Autumn is setting in. Mornings are cold and foggy, it's raining most of the time and days are getting darker by the minute. Still you decide to battle this gloomy atmosphere and start planning a week-end away from home to escape the buzzing city. THIS is where I come into action! Hi everyone, Malik here with the latest recommendations for fun adventures around the globe. Today, I'm taking you with me to Granite Falls for a late autumn outing.

Granite Falls is known for its wild landscape, its verdant flora and its calming and rejuvenating atmosphere. It is one of the preferred destinations for mushroom hunters in early autumn, but there are many other things to do around here later in the season.

We are starting out little trip around by stopping at Grandpa' Joe's, the diner all locals swear by. A little recluse and away from more touristic spots, this is were you'll find Granite Falls' most authentic food and drinks. The diner's run by Joe and his wife Lila, who founded the restaurant before they were even grandparents! You won't be seeing Joe around much, but Lila will greet you with open arms and a mama bear attitude. She's also the one in charge of all the cooking, and you absolutely have to try her speciality, the camper's stew, made with fresh seasonal vegetables and game hunted by grandpa Joe himself! The locals here can be a bit gruff, but they'll make you their own after just a couple drinks and a game of darts (remember to drink with moderation!).

As I stopped for a hearty breakfast and engaged a jovial conversations, one of the locals recommended me his own cabin that he rents out for travellers. Located not too far from the town center, it is a small, cosy place close to all the good hiking trails. It has a small fireplace and rustic appliances in the kitchen, and can fit up to two adults in the bedroom adjacent. It is the perfect lodging for a couple looking for an adventure but not yet ready for the great outdoors.

Now, you all know me, I like a good challenge, so I obviously declined, and asked for a more... adventurous option. That's when they told me of a small campsite lost in the forest, about nine miles away from here. Only the true nature enthusiasts dared set up camp there, so I HAD to go and check it out. After a few more jokes and having refused numerous attempts at making me drink the local pine liquor (it was still morning after all!), I set out to find this mysterious campsite. What I found on the way was absolutely breathtaking. 

Vivid autumnal colours were coming to life around me as I walked through the dense forest: the yellow of birches, the red of maple trees, the orange of barberry shrubs, all splashing against the deep green of the pines. The sounds of bird calls above me was ever present, signalling the preparations for departure of the migratory types. The ground was soft with dead leaves and I could spot mushrooms, both edible and toxic, all around me. Immersed in this magical atmosphere, I soon reached my destination, and what I saw there got my adventurer's senses tingling: a small camping ground, nestled between fallen tree, was standing before me with just the simplest of amenities in view. A couple people seemed to have set camp here already, but no one was in sight.

The place proved to be the perfect hide-out and allowed me to enjoy far more of the nature around than what I could have had I stayed closer to the town center. I even managed to find a morel mushroom spot and had some for dinner that same night! (Remember, when in doubt, take your wild mushrooms to your pharmacist, they'll be able to identify them for you.)

After having spent the rest of my day walking around and enjoying the trails up and down the ravines, I prepared myself for a fresh evening in my tent, but not before taking the time to admire the incredible night sky from a clearing close-by. The area being devoid of light pollution allowed the stars to shine bright in the night and offer an extraordinary sight that seemed to have come right out of a fairy tale. With images of the glittery sky filling my head, I quickly fell asleep, enjoying a great night sleep in the fresh and quiet autumn air.

The peace was broken in the early hours of the morning by an incredibly loud noise: a stag, hidden in the forest, belling to his heart's content. I couldn't find him due to the heavy morning fog surrounding the camp, but those hoarse cries will forever stay with me. Now fully awake, I started preparing for my second and last day here in Granite Falls.

I decided to take a longer trail back to town to see a little more of the place before leaving. The one I chose was more difficult than the path I took on my way up, and I would advise on walking this one only if you have experience hiking in forest and mountain areas.

The path quickly rose up until it reach a plateau above a precipice, giving a clear view of the valley under with its wild nature seemingly never ending. After a couple hours and as the path slowly came to a soft slope, I spotted a little track on the side. Intrigued, I followed and after about ten minutes of going farther into the forest, I stumbled upon a little lake, hidden from the main trails around here. I learned later that this place was mostly used by the locals, with parents and children having set it up to enjoy the fresh water in the summer months. Right now though, the only ones enjoying the place were herons and wild ducks, taking a little dip before leaving on their journey south.

After taking a quick lunch break near the water, I set out again for the last leg of my descent. The way after the lake was the most difficult, with terrain feeling more like stairs rather than a smooth slope, and I was pretty sweaty when I finally reached town again.

It was time for me to go and leave Granite Falls, but not without stopping by Grandpa Joe's for a piece of home-made pie, a great reward after all that walking! I bid farewell to the locals and left, tired of my day but with memories I will not forget.

If you ever need more information to prepare you travel to Granite Falls, you can get in contact with the local rangers' office (all contact info can be found on their website: ganitefalls-rangers.sim.gov). You can also pay them a visit when you arrive in town, they will give you advice on what trails are best for your abilities and give you other recommendations for your stay there.

Have a nice one, and see you next time!

Malik Hafeez, adventurer extraordinaire, quickly rose to fame on simcial media for his travel logs and breathtaking photographs. In addition to his simfluenceur life, he now works as a journalist with SimTalk monthly in the hopes of sharing his love for travelling with a wider range of sims.

Granite Getaway by @lilacmarble​ (on the gallery)

Life is Strange 2 Wood by @alerionjkeee​

Hidden Lake by @nocturne-vi​

Monello Grounds by @pxltown​

Malik Hafeez by @auroragoth​

All pictures by @auroragoth​

Thank you Erin, Victoria, Andi and Victoria for your participation 🖤

#SimTalk monthly #malik hafeez #my sims #lilacmarble #alerionjkeee #nocturn-vi #pxltown #sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims #the sims #simblr #STM1

[bloomingkyras]

Going back alone to Granite Fall and Selvadorada for completing the flower collection. It was rain heavily and it was too dark for Althea to find flower that she want. So, she have to wait until early morning but the rain still not stop and she decide to just find what ever flower she saw to completing the collection. She already found some of the flower collection and already plant them all.

#postcard legacy #the sims4 #postcard legacy challenge #themagicalflorist #gen one #altheakannedy #sims4 legacy #sims 4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 challenge

[aturnipsingularity]

Turnip, what's YOUR album of the year if you had to pick one? Pitch it to me, infect me with ur music taste

Okay, so I can't pick just one, so I'll throw a handful of my faves that I discovered this year into the ring. The most recent would be Eternal Blue by Spiritbox. Underrated alt/prog metal band, and I haven't heard a whole lot of others talking about them. I really like the way the first couple of tracks blend together, and the lead vocalist has an amazing voice. She has this really melodic singing that meshes well with her death growl. I also really like that there's a good mix of slower songs with the harder music. There's a lot of good variety, and the pacing is really nice.

Favorite song: Silk In The Strings

I also finally listened to The Death of Peace of Mind by Bad Omens this year. I had heard a couple of their singles before, but I hadn't checked out the full work until recently. I was really glad I did, because it's amazing. Lots of bangers in there, 10/10 would recommend. I really enjoy metal/post-hardcore in general, but the synths and electronics give the music a really nice boost to the energy (see one of my fave albums of all time -- Trauma by I Prevail). It makes it really punchy, and I love that!

Favorite song: ARTIFICIAL SUICIDE or bad decisions

I also want to recommend Take Me Back to Eden by Sleep Token, because I was very hyped for it to come out this year. However, I was let down a little bit and do have a few reservations about the album in general. I think it's great. The vibe of it is really ethereal, and I appreciate the fluidity of the songs in terms of tone and sound. But, it suffers from a lack of variety in tempo. A lot of the songs are slower, and the sequencing itself doesn't lend any room for picking up the energy it loses after the first 5 songs. I also hate the songs Are You Really Okay? and DYWTYLM. They don't feel like they belong. At all. They feel like filler/billboard top 100 and less of this otherworldy, almost ghostly sound they're trying to go for. It also took me a few listens to come around to Ascensionism and The Apparition, but I do really appreciate those songs, and I really quite like them now. It's a really good album that took a few misteps. The Summoning is so good, though. There's a reason it's their most popular song. If you're going to listen to it, I would recommend listening in the following order, because it's the best one I've found for right now. Although it's also not perfect by far, and you can hear the tonal shift after the first three songs, I think it feels a bit more balanced. I can't say I'm quite satisfied with it, but it's still a lot better imo

Drop Are You Really Okay? and DYWTYLM. Don't put them in the playlist.

1. Chokehold

2. Vore

3. The Summoning

4. Aqua Regia

5. Ascensionism

6. The Apparition

7. Granite

8. Rain

9. Euclid

10. Take Me Back to Eden

Favorite song: Euclid or Chokehold

And a small honorable mention to these albums that I finally got to listen to, but don't have enough thoughts on (yet) to rant about:

So Much (For) Stardust by Fall Out Boy

Rain City Drive by Rain City Drive

The Click (Deluxe Edition) by AJR (don't judge me I really like them)

Opal (original soundtrack) by Jack Stauber

Frontiers by Journey

Empire by Queensrÿche

4 by Foreigner

I really should have listened to the older albums sooner, but I just never got around to it -- even though I know multiple songs from each one.

I'll eventually talk about all of the other entries on this list, as well as my all-time favorites (not listed) and the other couple of recents I have yet to finish. Mostly just because I like talking about music lmao but today is not that day. Also you have to tell me about your music taste now!

#singulariturnip #turnip talks #<- new reply tag #asks #anurarana

[simesthetick]

Just Granite Falls kid stuff, starting a campfire in the morning five minutes before school

Robin has found out that he doesn't have much time left in this world. 😢 (They really need a rug in this room. Hazel should be putting her maxed out knitting skill to use.)

Robin rolled a want to throw a party, so we're going to try a damn weenie roast again.

Naturally, it started raining again and the fire wouldn't stay lit for the party. Not a single weenie was roasted.

The festivities were moved indoors. Clark bemoans the cost of higher education. Savannah is sad because she just found out (like, just now while here at the party) that her husband Deon died of old age.

#the sims #ts4 #sims 4 #sims legacy #sims #simblr

[toasty-death]

It's not too late, let's go.

Original Fiction.

Summary: Gale and Blaire have been living their whole lives being told that it's dangerous to go outside. Gale wakes up one morning and his lover Blaire is missing, only to lead him to a beautiful discovery.

Word Count: 1,357

Category: Futuristic, Mind Twist

 The silvery waves splashed against the granite sand, looking out you could see the expanse of the Mercury Sea out to the horizon. It was beautiful, but I knew it was time to head back inside since the sun was kissing the surface of the ocean, creating its usual array of blue and red clouds. Night would be upon us soon, but I didn't want to leave. "Come on, Gale, let's head back inside. You don't want to be caught by the rain, you know?" Blaire was right, it was supposed to rain tonight. We'd be dead if we got caught in it, I doubt we'd even last 10 seconds.

We headed back inside the grotto entrance, the steel steps seemed like they would go forever before we reached ground level. The walk was quiet, but I enjoyed her company like this. We didn't have to talk to feel comfortable with each other, that was the kind of relationship we had. My eyes strained against the glow of the neon sign, Paradise Grotto. Right, like this shit-hole was a paradise. We were forced to live here our whole lives, as the rain kills everything on the surface. We were allowed to venture to the surface when the weather reads clear skies for extended periods of time, but the entrance is sealed within an hour of any sign of rainfall. As we walk pass the entrance, the alarm begins to blare for the coming rain.

We made our way through the main entrance hallway, passing by cross sections that leads to the other sections of the Grotto. Our path was pretty straight forward, just down the main hallway and make a left at the recycle plant, then eight halls down. Blaire fumbled for the right key standing outside our apartment, she always had trouble remembering which key was the correct one. "Ugh, this one." She found it.

"I got the lights." I made my way over to the generator and started the process of starting it up. We can't have power running while we're outside of our apartment, just how things work around here. Power began to hum throughout the room as the lights flickered on, home sweet home. Blaire was already in the kitchen setting plates aside to prepare dinner. Probably freeze-dried meatloaf, again. One day I'll have to get us into one of those higher floor apartments, like one of those that the heads of divisions stay in. We'd never eat freeze-dried meatloaf again. I started cleaning around the house as Blaire finished up, it was my routine. Just another thing about how everything works here, you need to keep up a routine. Those who don't have a routine usually don't make it to their 30's, since there really isn't much to do in the Grotto unless you spend all of your earnings drinking it away.

We sat down and ate in silence, afterwards I cleaned the dishes. This is how our lives are here; we wake up at 0500, work from 0600 to 1800, we watch the sunset between 1800 and 1900, we eat at 2000, and sleep at 2100. That was our routine together in our wonderful lives inside the Grotto, we didn't need anything else to be happy.

"See you in the morning." Blaire kisses me goodnight. "And every sunset after." I kiss her back. I fall asleep fairly quickly and let the darkness take me.

I wake up in the morning with the sound of the alarm clock buzzing, I've always hated that noise. I shut it off and rub the sleep from my eyes, it looks like Blaire woke up earlier than normal. Well, I should start getting ready for work now, too.

My normal morning routine is washing my face, then I brush my teeth, then I gargle mouthwash for 30 seconds. After that I take my morning medication, it seems I'm running low on Vitamin D again. After my morning routine I head out to the living area to eat breakfast with Blaire, only the lights are off. "Hun?" I flick the lights on, but the living room is empty. I search the bedroom again, and she isn't there. "Blaire?" I begin to panic, is she hiding? This isn't like her at all. I begin searching everywhere frantically. She isn't anywhere, I open the front door and there she is, fumbling with her keys and soaking wet. "What the hell happened? Why are you wet?" She just stared back at me with wild, wide eyes. "Gale, I need you to come with me." She mumbled just low enough that I could hear her. "What, where? Where have you been? We are going to be late for work."

The next thing I knew she grabbed me by the arm and began pulling me down the hallway. "Hey! Blaire, talk to me!" She stayed focused on leading me somewhere, did she get into an accident? Is she in trouble? Eventually I gave up on trying to ask her what had happened, and I allowed her to lead the way. She leads me eight halls down, we make a right at the recycle plant, and up the main hallway. Paradise Grotto. She stops in front of the neon sign, I can hear the alarm up the stairwell for the signal that it's raining again.

"We need to go up the stairs, do you trust me?" She turns to me with a dead serious expression on her face. Up the stairs? "What's going on, Blaire?" Her eyes are darting between mine. "Gale, I can't explain unless I show you. We need to run up the stairs, we can't stop running. Do you trust me?" My mind is racing with hundreds of thoughts. I look up and see the entrance security has started paying attention to us now as one of the middle-aged guards gets up to walk over to us.

"Yes." We take off up the stairs. The guards shout for us to stop but we have a head start on them. We move as quickly as we can up the hundreds of steep steps. My chest begins to hurt, we've been running for 10 minutes. I can hear Blaire struggling to keep up her pace, eventually I'm the one in the lead, grasping her hand and pulling her along. We keep running, and running, until we reach the top of the stairs. The hatch leading to the outside is in front of us with the red hazard lights on, the alarm is ringing in our ears at this point.

We pause for a moment to catch our breath, and then she reaches for the latch handle. I reach out and grab her wrist to stop her. "Blaire, it's raining, we can't go outside." She places her hand over mine as she leans forward to place her forehead against me. Her hair is still wet and it gets my shirt damp. "I need you to trust me, please." She takes my hand off hers and opens the latch. The sound of the rain pouring down against the earth fills the stairwell, I've never heard such a sound before.

I watch in shock as she bolts outside into the rain with arms wide open. "Blaire!" It's too late, I can't save her. She'll be dead in seconds. Only, she isn't in pain. I stand there baffled, my mouth open as I watch her dance in the rain. It was the most beautiful sight that I've ever witnessed, it was as if she was a piece of art. For the first time in my life, she's the happiest I've ever seen her.

She spins around once more and looks at me with a huge grin. "Come with me." She reaches her hand for mine. My heart was racing, what was even going on? How is this possible? I couldn't get my thoughts straight, I felt dizzy. I think I might throw up.

"Gale, it's not too late, let's go." The rain was dripping from her outstretched fingers.

Suddenly, my mind was blank, and my feet moved on their own. I stepped out into the rain.

#fictober23 #writing #short story #october #fictober event

[thingsthatgowhumpinthenight]

THE HUNTING CABIN 1

The chittering of insects was all that could be heard this deep in the forest. The barest slivers of moonlight cast pale shadows across the ground. Heavy footfalls broke the stillness as a woman burst through the brush. A fierce yell rang through the forest and the woman dropped into a crouch, her broad shoulders hunched uncomfortably. She wore khaki shorts, cinched tight with a belt and a thin t-shirt. Eyes sweeping everywhere, she crept forward.

"Miss Thorpe?" The same voice rang out. "Come now. Do you really believe you can find your way back in the dark?" With her lips clenched, she continued, making her way further west. "Waynette?" The voice singed. "Where are you going to go Waynette? You're all alone in this town."

Waynette wished that his voice didn't send a chill down her spine. Once she crossed the ridge she'd be able to see the towns lights. She took another step onto hard metal. Her eyes widened and jagged metal jaws snapped tight around her calf. She let out a cry of pain before biting down hard on her hand.

He was saying something, but Waynette couldn't focus on anything other than the agony in her leg. Hands shaking, she looked on the ground for anything that she could use to break free. Her hands found a long chunk of granite and she began to pull the metal jaws away from her leg. Arms quavering with effort, Waynette eased the rock into place, and let go. The heavy stone propped the jaws open and she pulled her leg out, her foot catching on the jagged metal, stumbled to her feet and ran.

The rain was falling in buckets and Waynette could swear that he was right behind her, that any second he would burst through the trees and grab her. But she was on the outskirts of Riverport and no one had stopped her. She limped forward, staying close to the walls, her arms wrapped tight around her, now bare belly. A cars engine rumbled behind her and Waynette quickly ducked into an alley.

"Girl, you all right?" Waynette almost yelped, and turned to see a homeless man down the alley, his head poking out of a tent.

"I, I, I-" she broke off as she tried to get her brain to talk, to do anything. "I'm hurt." She finally croaked out."

"Yeah I can see that." The man said, eyeing the blood-soaked strip of t-shirt wound around her leg. "I'm afraid I don't have much in the way of medicine, or bandages, but here." He beckoned her over and handed her a lump of clothing. Waynette eagerly pulled the jacket over her head. It didn't do much for warmth, but it was slick and kept rain from soaking her completely. She looked at the man, his brow knit with concern and swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Th-thank you sir." The man gave a slight smile and nodded once. "You got someone in town?" He asked. Waynette stilled and nodded. "Get there fast." He urged. "Cops are going crazy throwing anyone they see out this late into a cell." Waynette nodded, thanked the man again, and was off.

Kamea was pacing in the living room while Ramsay sat at the counter, a cup of tea cooling in their scarred hands.

"It's been four days." Ryu said. "What are we doing to do?" A knock on the door was his reply. They all sprang to their feet, and ran to the door. Kamea shooed the others back and opened the door.

"Hey." Waynette smiled, eyes wide with fear and soaking wet. Kamea didn't get a chance to respond before the taller woman fell into her arms.

Next

#whump #escape #lady whump #probably not gonna use that tag again lol #Waynette Thorpe #team whump #idk what to call this #I'll probably continue

[halfelven]

🥺🛒✅ please!

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

when you have someone (like Elrond) who is a legend meet someone who knows them as a legend (like Bilbo or Frodo) and then what is the legend slowly fades away as they become a friend and become known, not as the legend but as they are, with needs and wants and weakness and fears and regrets. this says absolutely nothing about me 🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc. themes: revenge, betrayal, reunion, death, regret, injustice, inequality, power, class and social issues, violence, anger, hatred, fear, freedom, imprisonment, trauma, loneliness, shame, love, tragedy, greed, selfishness, depersonalisation, disassociation, poverty, starvation, immortality, found family, violent desire, ambition, isolation, hope, ambition, want feels: i'm not sure what feels means is this context. emotions? sorrow, grief, friendship, love, shame, anger, rage, numbness/unable to feel, depression, panic attacks, flashbacks, helplessness, angst, learning to feel alive again scenes: so many scenes where they get to go to sleep because they deserve to sleep and someone should!!!, making food, getting tortured (lots), nightmares, when things are happening around them but nothing feels real, lots and lots of swimming, fighting, wrestling, tickling, playing (i write a lot with children), trying to express how they're feeling but they can't so they give up and the other character kind of understands but not exactly but it somehow manages to be enough for then and there, longing/wanting for something that feels impossible to reach, scenes clouded by being hungry, looking at the stars and/or moon, doing laundry, taking walks for conversation, making/sharing tea, people who barely know each other trying to be polite, very casually sharing a bed and no one knows if they're together or not imagery: stars, sea, storms, lightning and the unstoppable thunder, trees, forests, spindly branches, wind, gales over the ocean, grey rain, grey light, golden sunlight, candles, candles going out and the smoke that twists around the air until it is nothing, details of clothing and fabrics, the way the sheets move when your weight shifts, wooden floors, peeling wallpaper, old fans that don't spin quite right, the setting sun as it falls down the walls, leaves spinning on the wind, leaves golden with sunlight or black and silver by moonlight, light, wild clouds, rain that obscures the outside world as it hits the windows, snow storms that cry, hair dancing on the wind, granite cliffs beaten by waves, strips of beach between low rocks or cliffs, damp pine forests, mountains, light playing on the water etc.: magic, the weight of time, sisu, picking berries, having the blanket tossed over you when you're on the bed, how soft moss is ✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

characters who don't know if they are in love because they don't really understand what love is because no one ever taught them and definitions of romantic love seem cloying and suffocating. again this says nothing about me

thank you! 💜💜💜

#asks #ask games #txt #lesbianhaleth #this is long but i was trying to remember my stories #because i keep forgetting them right now #also your writing really just... #like if you need to /know/ yourself...

[agent-starbuck]

Stupid Deep

They drive in silence down a quiet street near Sebring, Florida. It's dark out-- a fine mist creeping in with its eerie, opaline tendrils, blanketing the asphalt as their car navigates its way through, collecting tiny droplets of moisture on the windshield as it goes. Only in Florida would you need to use windshield wipers when it wasn't even raining. Everything here is damp.

They've spent too many hours in the Florida sun, and this case has been exhausting. She thought a little sunshine would feel rejuvenating-- a way to recharge her batteries after recovering from her cancer, but it's done the opposite. She feels utterly drained. Suddenly, she misses the brisk, fall air back in DC.

She forgot how much she hates mosquitoes.

If she were being entirely honest, it's not the sun or the damp or even the mosquitoes that have found her in a less-than-amicable mood tonight. It's Mulder.

He's been in a funk all day; his irritable behavior manifesting itself in subtle ways-- maybe too subtle for the average person to perceive-- but luckily, after five years, she's well-versed in Mulder's unpredictable and erratic behavior. The set of his granite-sharp jaw, the way his nostrils flare ever-so-slightly when he talks to her… his piercing black eyes that slice right through her.

She wonders, sometimes, if Angry Mulder is much different from Turned-on Mulder, but immediately chastises herself before the thought encroaches into dangerous territory. There are times to nurture that curiosity and times to push it deep down inside where even the Florida sunshine can't reach.

They pull into the motel parking lot, and she almost feels the impulse to ask him what's wrong as he kills the engine, but the words shrivel and die on her lips before he unbuckles his belt and reaches for the door handle.

Maybe it's that she doesn't want to know. Or maybe it's that she already does, deep down, but is afraid to acknowledge it.

"Night, Mulder," she attempts as she exits the car, but he's already crossed the threshold to his room, the door snicking shut behind him with a finality that echoes through her ears and makes her feel a little too uneasy.

Once inside her own room, she paces back and forth like a caged animal. If only he was aware how crazy he made her sometimes. Years ago, she would've been able to let this one go. Often times, she would find Mulder in these capricious moods and found it best just to give him space. Many times, she even found it endearing.

But tonight? Tonight feels different. Tonight, she's skirting that thin line between wanting to kiss him or kill him

Read more below:

#msr fanfiction #msr fic #msr #mulder and scully fanfic #mulder scully #mulder and scully #xfiles fic #xfiles fanfiction #the xfiles #the x files #x files #xfiles #xfiles fanfic #mulder x scully #scully #agent mulder #agent scully #scully x mulder