#i love this little forest pond. its so peaceful

[rosenfey]

⊱ THE ELDER SCROLLS V: SKYRIM + scenery — 7/?

#the elder scrolls #elder scrolls #skyrim #skyrimedit #tesedit #*fae creations #*fae.gif #*skyrim #skyrim? in warm colors? more likely than you think! #i love this little forest pond. its so peaceful

[lichenes]

Viens te promener avec moi ma chére...

You and Vincent go on a walk together :D Vincent Renzi x f!reader CW: estabilished relationship, attempted usage of the french language (once or twice i promise ;A;) i couldn't make it gn this time cuz french has got the thingies..., SFW wc: 407 _____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿_____

The sun was hitting his delicate features perfectly. His gray locks appeared almost silver, not lacking in the lustre department. "It's so nice outside." You remark sitting at the edge of the bed whilst Vincent was sitting in his usual spot, by the open window, lit cigarette in hand. He hummed in response agreeing with you.

Vincent wasn't a man of many words on days like these. He preffered observing the nature rather than talking over it. Birds were chirping bringing a reasonable amount of joy to both of you so you just enjoyed it. The breeze flowing through the open window wafted around and brought a nice forest scent to your bedroom.

"How about a walk ma douce?" he suggested with eyes you couldn't say no to. You decided on an outfit and in the next 20 minutes you were impatiently tapping your foot. "Vincent!" you shouted into the ether, hoping he would finally make his way downstairs.

Vincent was wearing a simple light blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans, with a cozy looking cardigan draped over his shoulders. You remember buying the cardigan for him as a name day present. Double checking the temperature and making sure you didn't have to bring with you a sweater you exited the house.

Near your house, there was a rather large pond - surrounded by a dense forest - next to it there was a bench which became your favourite date spot. Vincent didn't have much time for dates as his line of work was very demanding of him and with Sandra's trial he had even less time.

With little time came an abundance of stress which took its toll on his mental and physical health so these rare moment of tranquility let him stay in harmony with himself and, more importanly, with you.

Vincent was just telling you the same facts about a certain species of trees as he always did whilst you were gazing at him lovingly. "I know you love me but it's important to know which conifers defoliate during the winter." He smiled and you with his lovesick gaze riveted in your own eyes.

"I do love you." You professed as if it weren't obvious. You sat comfortably in the peace and quiet of the forest occasionally being interrupted by the clangour of the returning birds just soaking up the atmosphere.

Free from all responsibilities but bound by the unyielding chains of love...

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿_____

masterlist

#vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi #x reader #swann arlaud #anatomy of a fall #one shot

[queen-shiba]

Suddenly I can remember what my inner world looked like when I was little. Probably the worst years of my life, too.

My eyes sting and my nose is borderline runny rn.

It resembled the environments seen in Bambi, The Jungle Book, and Brother Bear. Even the ones in African Folktales I'd read so often.

Sometimes it'd be set in an ancient African Kingdom, like the ones I'd see in books with Anansi involved. Or just the African plains I saw in works of art like pottery or paintings with silhouettes of African women in them.

Of course, it was sunset a lot, but I also had a certain fondness of dark blue that you'd see at night when the moon shines brighter than most nights.

There were no stars, and there would be a stone trail with water flowing between each stone, leading to a pond with the moon reflecting its surface.

Trees wouldn't be visible. You'd only see black silhouettes of them. Even during the lovely sunset which was mixed and meshed with purples and blues at that time.

When it was day time in my inner world, you could see everything. It looked almost like a painting, and there were always flowers.

It would be a clearing with lots of flowers and talk grass I could lay in and be hidden from all my troubles, even now.

It would be surrounded by trees leading into a deeper forest, sometimes dark and gloomy. Other times not.

One thing noticeable was that there was always some sort of wildlife there.

Animals of all kinds.

And I'd be friends with all of them. I could cry to them if I needed to and they'd sit and listen, and they'd comfort me.

I was never alone or abandoned in that world.

I was at peace.

@killersweetie @leonistic @duskymrel @seraphni @dacactusjuiceman2 @captain-liminal @red-viewe @fizzydreamz

#nostalgia #nostalgic

[amariaamaris]

Of Spite and Planned Assassinations (Chapter 1)

Oh my gosh, this took me way, way to long to update/add more. Spring finals felt like they came out of nowhere and my summer class piggy-backed onto the tail end of spring. Anyway, for anyone interested this is my wip about Mace Windu being yeeted back in time by the force with zero explanation. I'm also going to be posting on AO3, so after this post - if I remember - I'll be posting chapter updates with a link and a quick little preview. Anyway, that being said here is the whole of chapter 1: Of Ire and Lifedebts.

Mace Windu has two hands.

Two hands that are actively shaking from the after effects of sith lightning.

He’s not on Coruscant… He's not on Coruscant.

Instead, Mace Windu, The Master of the Jedi Order is in the middle of a forest and he has no clue what planet he’s on. He would also appreciate it if his head would stop throbbing as spikes of pain splinter through his brain.

Mace finally, shakily pulls himself to a standing position and slowly takes in his surroundings. Trying to get a better grasp as to where he is and where he should start walking to find some civilization.

He reaches out to the force with a question pressing, projecting outward and junts off his pain, fear, and worry out into the force. All he gets back as an answer is a distinct feeling of amusement and comfort. Much like the creche masters would give an amused and indulgent smile and a slightly humiliating pat on the head to initiates with silly fears. As they are cheerfully reassured that it ‘passes with time’.

An annoyed huff escapes him, “If you don’t wish to give me any answers, can you at least point me to where I need to go?” the force lightly giggles in response and wraps around him with loving warmth. Then in the next moment it pulls away and starts tugging him in a random direction.

He follows, what else is he supposed to do?

Mace gets all of ten steps and a vicious electric aftereffect of the lightning tears through him. Lighting up his nerve endings with harsh, zapping pinpricks and debilitating him to the point that Mace has to tightly grip onto one of the trees.

Mace finally gets back enough wherewithal to feel the force wrap around him, cushioning and supporting him. He forcefully blinks his eyes, willing the black specks out of his vision as he slowly lets go of his grip on the tree. The force lightly brushes against him with a silent apology, he sends back his acceptance and the sense that there is nothing to forgive.

Tuning back into his physical body senses as he starts moving and equally relying on his force senses, very quickly informs Mace that there is a blaster fight happening. In fact, it sounds like a full-blown battle. He pauses upon hearing something massive and slow moving making its way towards the battle. The force continues to insistently tug at him wanting him to go-change-save him-new beginnings-trust. Mace very quickly gets a move on, not feeling in the mood to have the force literally pull him off of his feet in its desperation to get him moving. 

What he comes upon is quite frankly a muddy, chaotically confusing, ruthlessly violent bloodbath. An intense battle between two different mandalorian groups, one in blue and silver and the other group in a myriad of different colors. The force almost violently tugs him towards the group with different colors.

The very group that is clearly pinned down and quickly losing the battle. A soul-deep and exasperated sigh leaves him - he pushes his ire away into a box labeled LATER - as he quickly starts mentally pulling up battle plans to change the tide. It takes him all of a minute to come up with and scrap thirty different plans. Due to him forgetting that Commander Ponds and Lightning Squadron aren’t with him. Until he finally gets to a plan that will work… potentially. It certainly won’t make the mandalorian side's situation he’s wanting to help any worse.

He takes a moment to breathe and pull on the still peace and calm of an untouched lake as he grips his lightsaber. Time seems to freeze as he moves.

From one breath to the next he’s across the battlefield and taking out the massive ion tank before it can even get a shot off. Mace springboards off the tank right up to where a handful of the blue and silver mandalorians are using their jetpacks to try and get a better vantage point.

In a single smooth move, Mace slices through one of the jetpacks and he grapples midair with a different mandalorian. He slams his hand down on the jetpack, ignoring how the heat of it burns his skin and reaches with the force and crumples the mechanism. Then he’s letting go, slamming his foot into the mando’s chest and launching himself at the next one. Force pushing the previous mando into a different one and smoothly turning his attention to the one he’s collided with as other two plummet to the ground.

Sharp pain blooms on his right side where the mando has stabbed him with a vibroblade. Mace impatiently punts the feeling off into the force as he twists and in a clean move relieves the mando of their head. He gets himself space as he rapidly falls towards the hard ground and very roughly slows and catches himself with the force. Carefully holding the side with the blade still lodged within it.

He senses the mandalorians he’s actively helping finally gain ground and reach his position. Everything quickly becomes a blur after that, dodging, parrying, redirecting blaster bolts and slugshots that would have either severely damaged or killed both him and the mandalorians. Then from one moment to the next, the force screams out in his still throbbing head. Mace moves before he’s even fully aware of the action he’s taking. Stopping a blaster bolt from slamming into the back of the neck of the mandalorian with the red cape from one of his own and swiftly relieving the traitor of his forearms.

At this point, many of the blue and silver mandalorians have very swiftly retreated and all that's left are the ones covering the retreat. The traitor stumbles backward and lands on his shebs into the blood and mud.

“Montross!” Mace barely twitches at the name being viciously spat out through the crackle of the buy’ce belonging to the red-caped mandalorian. “Aruetii! How long were you planning this?” The red-caped mandalorian stalks towards the traitor like a nexu on the hunt.

Mace lets his eyes slowly scan around as the rest of the mandalorians with the red-caped leader start to take care of the dead. The quiet hiss of his saber turning off makes a good number of them twitch as he puts it back on his belt. He calmly rips off two large pieces from his cloak and ties one around his torso, just above where the vibroknife is sticking out.

He stays silent as he watches the leader call for some of his men to take this ‘Montross’ away. Not that Mace really catches much of the language, but he gets enough of it to make a strong enough guess. Wrapping his hand around the hilt of the vibroknife, he pauses and slowly breathes in; pulling the force tightly around himself for strength, he quickly rips the blade out as cleaning as it went in. Mace ignores the shocked mutterings of the mandalorians and quickly rips one third of the strip off and folds it. He presses it tightly against the gaping wound and proceeds to use the larger part of the strip and the helping hand of the force to tie it tightly in place.

He just gets done with that when he’s wracked with another after effect of sith lightning. It shreds his shields as it shreds his body's nerve endings. Through sheer spite and strength of will he doesn’t scream out like he’d like and instead a grunt of pain escapes him as his knees give out. Mace could almost taste the sith lightning that seems to be locked within his very veins as his whole body convulses.

His ears ring sharply and loudly as his head goes from throbbing to trying to set itself on fire as it splits apart. Mace is aware enough to hear muffled voices and feel himself being moved, but other than that every single sense is a blur of pain. As the force drowns him in its depths and what’s left of his obliterated shields get washed away by the waves.

Even the pain becomes incredibly distant as the force gently croons to him as it wraps him in its warm healing embrace. Mace gently floats within the ocean of infinity, klicks away from the surface and completely at peace. He vaguely feels his body tingling with pins and needles and muffled yelling. Mace gets the sense that he should be more alarmed than he is at the moment and yet…

He’s tired, past tired and to a level of exhaustion he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to pull himself out of. He’s been tired since Qui-Gon came back to the temple, leaving his thirteen-year-old padawan in a warzone with parents actively hunting, torturing, and killing their own children. That tired feeling just spread as the years went on into his bones and to the depths of his soul. When the war hit, he was already checked out. Yet, he gave more of himself than he thought he had left and kept giving more.

As he knew many others did the same.

Mace knows intellectually that he’s slipping away, but with the force wrapped around him and carefully leading him deeper into the ocean, he willingly follows. There’s nothing left; the jedi order has fallen and his men are nothing more than flesh droids. He knows that his padawans, his daughters are bound to be dead. Mace takes in one more deep, pained, struggling breath and slowly lets it out on a quiet sigh of release.

And he floats away.

#star wars the clone wars #star wars #star wars fanfiction #mace windu #time travel fix it #korda six #the force #the force does what it wants #after effects of sith lightning #the force loves to leave out very important information #jedi #Master of the order Mace Windu #Mace Windu is so done #let this man rest #time travel Spite and Planned Assassinations au #jaster mereel #true mandalorians

[grandmaster-anne]

Waste not, want not

By HRH The Princess Royal | Published 29 July 2020

EVERY year, month and day, I realise how fortunate and privileged I am to have grown up and spent most of my life in the countryside. It’s not only the space, appreciating the seasons, the wildlife, the plant life, the arable crops and the livestock, but, most importantly, it’s the people who live and work there and understand the complexity of their environment. I was equally fortunate that both my parents had a love and understanding of the natural world through their own experiences. Perhaps even more so for my father when, during his rather disjointed young life, he ended up at school at Gordonstoun and was introduced to the wilds of Scotland, both land and sea. Scotland had its influence on my mother, too, as did the big skies of Norfolk, and the huge fields and marshes of the Sandringham Estate. Windsor’s Home Park and Great Park were a constant presence for her, as they were for all of us. They had horses, dairies, hens, pigs—you could never be bored as a child. Windsor was and is a haven of peace, although not so quiet since the growth of air travel—until the lockdown.

Superficially, not much has changed since I was young; the Jersey herd is still there, although the cows now enjoy a robotic parlour. There are Sussex cattle in the Great Park and the crops are a different mix, but the forest is still there, as are ponds and wet areas, the Savill Gardens and Frogmore House Gardens. Buildings and skills that the Prince Consort would have recognised.

Prince Albert’s influence is seen so often at the forefront of research and practical application, not least in agriculture and building design. His model farm at Windsor, for instance, and nearly all the buildings at Balmoral improved the use of space and integrated more efficient use and better distribution of water. My father was impressed by Prince Albert’s approach to forward-thinking and sustainable developments and has added his own understanding to encourage others to build on the knowledge of their predecessors. The Royal Commission of 1851 was set up by the Prince Consort after the Great Exhibition to build on its success of creativity, innovation and trade. When my father was its president, he oversaw an extraordinary investment in talent across the whole spectrum of research, including the science and practice of agriculture and sustainable land use. I now have the privilege of being its president, which also reminds me of the wealth of knowledge that I have been exposed to throughout my life and the part my family has played in growing that knowledge.

Prince Philip has added his own unique talents by being very well briefed, then engaging and bringing together all interests that are part of the countryside. He is a very hard act to follow, but I’m grateful for the time he gave us and the example he set us.

It is only later in life that you realise how much you have been exposed to and how much you have absorbed from your early years. We were taught to observe and question, to be open minded, to understand differences, to treat every person as an individual with their own skills and to remember there is very little that is completely new under the sun. We are where we are because our ancestors not only survived by living off the land, water and air, but also innovated ways of doing so more easily and successfully; so successfully that a shortage of food seems a distant threat for much of the western world. However, although we may be growing more, the access to and distribution of good-quality foods is still a challenge.

We are living through a real global pandemic that is affecting literally every person’s life in some way, even if they and their countries have barely suffered directly from Covid-19. The effect on global food supplies through the restrictions on transport and logistics (see page 124) should raise our awareness of the vulnerability of the modern—just in time—demand-and-supply approach and highlight the strengths of local production and markets. Change will require all land users to work even more closely together to understand the most appropriate and least damaging way to increase production of crops and livestock that best suit our ground conditions and weather. It also means finding the right space and access for those who wish to enjoy the non-producing areas.

The restrictions that Covid-19 has placed on the entire population have accentuated the pressure between town and country. However, it has also shown that, thanks to historic houses, caravan parks, national parks, forestry enterprises, riding and cycling trails, rambling routes and assorted types of accommodation, access was quite well catered for already as an important contributor to the rural economy. The pandemic has highlighted the number of people and jobs that are crucial to that economy, too, be it the hospitality sector, conservation projects or the farming sector, such as the harvesting of many crops, fruit and vegetables and the care of livestock, especially sheep-shearing. Those jobs are still hard physical work that also need skills to achieve the standards that the buying public expect.

Technology is already making an impact in these areas and will make a bigger impact as the innovators and practitioners work out what is adding value and efficiency, without doing any more damage to the environment. Education and training play a big part in the shared understanding, success and enjoyment of the countryside. Our knowledge is derived from experience, evaluation and development and we need that information to be readily available. The royal agricultural societies, the county agricultural shows and societies (see page 120) —which are often the gatekeepers to public enquiry and understanding—the further-education colleges and universities that still maintain links with the rural economy (see page 128) and the people who live and work in the countryside are more important than ever, especially as there is no such thing as an unskilled job.

Research has made progress, but single-issue research must never lose sight of the overall subject. I mean that, for instance, one type of crop, with very specific qualities, may not be the best crop for every environment. Nature’s ability to adapt is, on the whole, better than humans or, indeed, computer-model-driven versions. How do we combine the best of both, the single-issue expertise and the need for a holistic view? Hopefully, by recognising that practitioners, residents and consumers can all access accurate information, education and training so that they can contribute to the debate and the research on best practice for the countryside.

How do I define best practice? Understanding how to work better with local conditions and working with Nature, which could be by using very traditional methods. Yet also using technology to support farming and related jobs, as well as extending the employment opportunities to those who would rather stay in the countryside. Not everybody does, which is just as well, as there is already a shortage of affordable houses in most areas (see page 118).

One of my pleas for best practice is quality, appropriate housing of the right type and the right numbers in the right places. Housing for local families that are priced out of the market; for young, single people who would like to stay and work in their home village or area; young families; and retired people who were born in the village and would like to return home. All of them could make the difference to having a viable school, shop or pub in the village. Importantly, these housing developments should be small and remain in the control of the local parish council, either for rent or shared ownership—preferably small because of two other best-practice issues: waste and energy.

Waste—produced by humanity and the way it chooses to live—that is not dealt with appropriately is up there with not understanding the value of small housing developments built to last as a major irritation to me! If you want to help the planet, controlling our waste is something everyone can do and it will make a difference. We will always produce waste, however efficient we become, so we must get better at reducing it at every stage and dealing with it better at the end. That means making things such as clothes, furniture, vehicles and supermarket trolleys that can be recycled safely and economically and not dumped on someone else’s ground. Did I mention that fly-tipping is another major irritation to me?

There are some perfectly good waste and recycling systems out there already, including anaerobic digesters and waste-to-energy plants. I would hope we can be more innovative and local in the way we deal with our rubbish to encourage everybody that it is worth making the effort to put waste in the right places, recycle more and have the confidence that it will make a difference.

Everything about life today seems to be about convenience and waste is seen as inconvenient; we must help make it more convenient to deal with. Raising the profile of the country code might help, especially as the post-coronavirus getaway to the country seems to have resulted in an increase of littering and vandalism.

Reliable energy supplies are critical to everybody and renewable energy created by innovative and local solutions will be a crucial part of the networks. Rural areas could be even more self-sufficient, especially if much of the equipment is to be electric. Replacing fossil-fuel generators has not been easy, but covering the countryside in solar panels and windmills isn’t really the answer, either. Using water better, using waste from crops, using waste from woodlands and the ability to store energy, possibly as hydrogen, can all help, but will require a more flexible grid and, therefore, the technology to make that work. Small nuclear reactors could have their place, but perhaps there is not the space to pursue that now.

In order to make rural life less isolated, even 5G coverage will not solve the problem of transport for farmers, shops, schools, pubs and the people who want to live and work in or from the rural environment. You need logistics to travel, to distribute, to deliver and to collect. Many businesses, good ideas and ambitions have failed because there are too few of any of the above and they are too expensive.

The need for appropriate vehicles and qualified drivers has not made it any easier to service the rural areas. I gained my HGV licence in 1974 after, I think, a two-hour test, all driving, starting with the handling test, which meant that, if you touched a cone, you were unlikely to pass. Then you spent the rest of the time driving—in my case, mostly in Reading. There was no theory test and, in relative terms, it didn’t cost very much. Now, it is a serious commitment in terms of time and money, which has resulted in a real shortage of HGV drivers. This, and the requirement for qualifications for nearly every other sort of vehicle, has made it even more difficult to maintain services. The needs of the rural communities during the coronavirus lockdown has underlined the importance of those people and their roles. We would do well to build on that experience.

I have lived at Gatcombe for more than 42 years (see page 80). We were not looking for a farm, but it has been a real privilege to try to work with what we have. Ours is an organic, extensive grass enterprise, usually complicated by running the horse-trial championships in early August. The woodland is a real mix of trees—mostly beeches, but huge numbers of ash of all ages. Who knows how many will survive, but I feel the naturally selected mix could be an important part of the answer.

Perhaps mix is the key. I write as a classic ‘Jack of all trades’, who has the opportunity to listen and engage with the masters of their subjects. Does the little knowledge I pick up make me dangerous or well informed?

Well, some of my information comes from COUNTRY LIFE , a publication that continues to reflect and promote all aspects of rural existence. This week’s edition has generously reflected some of my interests and those of people I believe are making a real difference. I hope the edition will leave you positively optimistic about our country’s country life.

#princess anne #princess royal #country life #guest edit #article #anne's article

[kpop-with-mars]

|everything you are is beautiful|Hyunjin x trans reader|

{hwang hyunjin was your best friend from kindergarten to middle school going separate ways after high school and growing apart overtime, years later you would have a talent for playing an array of instruments and become a small artist under jype, but then when you see stray kids you recognize hyunjin but the thing is he doesn't realize who you are, reason being you had been transitioning after graduating}

paring{hwang hyunjin x trans(ftm)reader}

tags{angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, pining, best friends, mlm, found family, coming out, comedy, crying, depression, dysphoria, happy ending}

☣WARNINGS☣{im a trans boy but im sorry if i miss some things or misrepresent some trans people, swearing, angst, big sad argument near the end, depression, body dysphoria, coming out, mentioned someone outting you}

word count{2,3k+}

A/N{reader is same age as hyunjin but a bit younger by a few months, this fic will be available on ao3 as well}

{d/n = deadname}

enjoy!

He's beautiful

beautiful is the only way to describe hwang hyunjin, beautiful in the sense that he could make the ugliest outfit In the world make him look like a god, beautiful in a way that makes you wonder for a second if he really is this kind just for the camera but then you meet him and his personality is like moonlight reflecting on a pond in a quiet forest, so calm and peaceful to anyone and everyone but most of all beautiful, his voice, talents, hobbies just make him so beautiful he left people wanting to be as talented as him or look like him or be as rich him, but he always left you thinking

'why can't my body look like that? why couldn't I be born the same way he was?'

You've always been dealing with dysphoria even after top surgery and starting testosterone you can't help but want to scream when you get called a 'lady' or 'ma'am', its so hard because in your head you think that if only you had been born like hyunjin you wouldn't be dealing with some the problems you've gone through, like the slurs, the bullying, your parents disowning you, all of the things you experienced just because you want to be boy,

You're regularly around stray kids for most of your job, you are an idol too after all, and over all of the time you've had to reconnect with hyunjin you and him became friends like you were back in middle school always joking around poking fun at some of the members but never crossing the line with any of them and enjoying eachother's company and even growing some secret feelings for him, but you felt like he couldn't love you, he didn't even recognize you from when you two were younger and he would sometimes slip into conversations about how he misses his best friend d/n, he just couldn't love you because to you its clear he loved better as a girl,

You feel as though now that you're away from all of the people including your family that don't support you, everyone has to hate you, but not hyunjin and the rest of stray kids they've always felt like a safe space for you and there always gonna be with you, every time you think they're going to hate you for being trans they always show so much love even though they don't know yet,

"hey y/n-ah were gonna have a little sleepover party at the dorm you wanna come along" seungmin asked "of course ill be there" you responed excited to go spend some time the group after weeks of promotions and interviews.

you arrive to stray kids dorm wearing some comfy and casual clothes that Felix got you on a little date shopping with him and hyunjin, you come into the dorm and make your self comfortable on one of the recliners sitting next to han and hyunjin playing smash Bros on there big ass tv, "y/nnie you wanna play with us?" hyunjin asks you handing out a little switch controller for you to take "oh sure!" You say a bit startled by hyunjin talking to you while your head was in the clouds, but before you guys can start another round jeongin comes running into the living room dragging minho behind him "let's play truth or dare!" everyone immediately stopped with what they were doing and formed a circle on the floor, "alright first, han, truth or dare" minho said as he looked at the quokka "dare" "alright then I dare you to make out me" "challenge accepted!" the two of them disappeared into the other room to get some privacy, "so, that happened" bang chan said quickly brushing it off, some awkward silence between every one for a few minutes "should we wait for them-" Felix was cut off by han and minho exiting the room both of there faces redder then strawberrys "how the fuck did you two manage to give eachother hickeys, you were gone for less then 5 minutes" seungmin remarked minho glared at him "well you see seungminnie when a man and another man love eachother very much-" "nope, stop don't say anything else I don't need to have the talk again thank you"

Everyone laughed as han and minho sat back down, "okayy now, y/n" you perked your head up when you heard your name "truth or dare!" jeongin demanded in a sort of wizard voice "um, im just gonna go with truth" you responed

"y/n, what is something about you that you wouldn't want most people to know?"

Your heart sank at the question and all you could feel was panic, you knew that were supportive of the lgbtq+ community but you wondered if this was the best place to tell them, you couldn't lie and say something else because they basically know everything about you, expect one thing,

"you okay?" Han questioned you becoming more worried along with the other members, "yeah im fine, im still thinking" hyunjin took this as a sign that you might not be okay, he holds your hand to let you know that he's listening and he'll be there for you, you take a second to look at hyunjin and his lips curve into a small smile, and you smile back, becoming less stressed as you take a deep breath,

"Im sorry I didn't tell any of you years ago, but now I think im ready..." you look up to the rest of them their eyes filled with love and understanding,

"im transgender"

You couldn't help but laugh because of how nervous you were, but you were feeling so happy that you didn't have to worry about their thoughts about trans people because you knew that they would always support you and not Pressure you into coming out to them,

"we still love you y/nnie, its okay!" Felix hugged you tightly you hugging back equally tight "im glad you told us y/n, thank you for trusting us" bang chan got up to rub your back being the father of the group, a wave of euphoria rushes over you feeling like you could do anything and everything now that that weight has been lifted from your chest (literally), "that doesn't make you any less of a man to me, you're still the best workout partner I have" chanbin stated sounding like he'll punch anyone that says otherwise,

"maybe we should do something else now, any ideas?" jeongin asked looking at the others "how about some popcorn and movies" everyone agreed in unison to seungmin's request "alright then me and jeongin will get started on the popcorn and you guys can queue the movie" bang chan and jeongin got up and headed to the kitchen while every one else was getting comfortable on the sofa's,

hyunjin sat next to you as the movie played, then he got close up to your ear "im glad you told us y/n, we're proud of you" he whispered pressing a light kiss under your eye turning back to watch the movie while you felt your face heat up.

the next couple of months would by just as normal with the promotions, comebacks, etc, expect your feelings for hyunjin would grow more and more intense just by looking at him no matter what he was doing, he always seemed to capture your heart with ease just by laughing or looking into his eyes, he was just so captivating by everything he did he could just be breathing and you would still think he's beautiful,

'he couldn't love me back' you'd think 'i don't even know if he likes guys' your intrusive thought would sting at your heartstrings, but it was true you didn't know what his preferences were and even if you did would he love you back?.

during your break in between promotions you hung out with han, jeongin and hyunjin relaxing on the sofa and chatting with the three of them, when the conversation suddenly went to dating "y/n hyung are you interested in anyone?" jeongin wondered "no, not really" "hmm what about hyunjin hyung?" you all looked at hyunjin who was busy looking on his phone "I mean...yes?" han and the maknae both gasped in unison but your anxiety was slowly kicking in as you realized what's about to unfold, "spill the tea" han egged hyunjin on as his took a drink of his water like it was wine, "well I haven't seen her since high school but I just can't stop thinking about her" every fear in your body grow more with every word hyunjin said, "well what's her name???" jeongin questioned focusing his whole being on hyunjin,

"d/n"

your ears started to ring when you heard that name, you wanted everything to stop and just go dark, anything to rid you of this feeling that felt like your heart was gonna stop, "tell us more about her" "well she was really talented with instruments and could easily just pick something up and start playing, boy she was amazing" hyunjin said in a dreamy voice holding his face in his hands "wow she sure sounds great, what do you think y/n?" jeongin cocked his head in your direction his eyes filled with excitement, "she kinda sounds like a bitch" you muttered feeling anger begin to take over you, you just couldn't stand it when people praised you before you transitioned saying that you were 'such a talented young girl' and that you 'looked so much better back then',

"why are you saying that y/n!?" han's expression changing to shock at your words "yeah don't be so salty" jeongin said teasingly trying to lighten up the conversation "just because she's talented doesn't mean she's not a whore" you responed not even caring at this point, hyunjin's eyes turned dark not understanding why you're acting this way "why are you saying all of this y/n?, you don't even know her" hyunjin yelled standing up from his seat "oh no hyunjin i know her, 'good grades, loved by her friends and family, such a talented and sweet young girl with a bright future ahead of her'" you yelled back getting up from the sofa "what's your point!?" hyunjin scoffed getting increasingly more angry "but then one day someone found out one little thing about her that she couldn't change, then told everyone that she knew and then she lost everyone, her friends and her own family, all b-because..." you looked down as you felt giant tears begin to form in your eyes that threaten to fall as you were overwhelmed with sadness and self hatred, "because what?" hyunjin questioned still angry but becoming more worried by the sound of his voice, you try to wipe your tears away before looking back up at hyunjin,

"all because she didn't want to be a girl"

you fell back onto the sofa crying as jeongin patting your back trying his best to comfort you "i always looked at you and thought 'one day im gonna be like hyunjin and finally be seen as a boy', you've made me feel better about myself at times when I thought about hurting myself, I look up to you because to me I think everything about you is beautiful and I want to follow in your footsteps" hyunjin sits next to you crying as he puts his hands on your face "i-im so sorry y/n, im such an asshole" he sobbed looking down away from your eyes, the other two members silently leave to give you two some space and work things out, "your not an asshole, im sorry I didn't tell you I was so afraid of what you might say that I just stuffed down all my feelings for you" you responed lifting hyunjin's head up as you wipe away all the tears on his face "how do you feel about me?" hyunjin looked into your eyes as you pause for a second to think about your words "I love you hyunjin, more then you could ever imagine" you hug hyunjin so tight that you could feel his heartbeat against your chest as you buried your face in his shoulder, hyunjin picks your face up from his shoulder in order to face you, both of your lips almost connecting with eachother's

"I love you too y/n" he whispers pushing his lips up to yours

as you two pull away from his lips you embrace him again as he wraps his arms around your waist.

that night you decided to spend the night with hyunjin, you and him were in his room talking with one another while cuddling in his bed "i never knew how much you looked up to me" he said sounding like he was getting pretty tired "well you're a beautiful person so how could I not" you yawned "you keep saying im beautiful, what's up with that?" hyunjin questioned while looking up at you "well like I said before everything about you is beautiful, meaning not just your looks but also you as person" you responed planting a smell peck on his forehead "ahh now I get it" he shyed feeling kinda dumb for not getting it before "we should get some sleep now im tired" you yawned all of your energy drained from your little heart to heart argument with hyunjin "alright goodnight baby I love you" "i love you too" you gave him a small kiss on his lips before he buried his face in your chest the two of you slowly falling asleep in the comfort of eachother's arms.

im sorry if this isn't good I tried to make it longer than my last fic but I hope you enjoyed it!

#gay stray kids #stray kids x male reader #stray kids x trans reader #stray kids #skz #skzoo #skz hyunjin #Hyunjin #Hwang hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #skz moodboard #hyunjin moodboard #Stay Gay #gay stay #Trans stay #kpop #kpop x trans reader #kpop x trans!reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x reader #fluff #stray kids fluff #Stray kids x gender neutral reader #transgender #dark fairycore #i love him so much #stray kids aesthetic #stray kids moodboard #mlm #found family

[autumnalwalker]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @void-botanist.

My words to find were sparkle, doubt, pop, horror, & confuse.

Passing the tag to @writernopal, @on-noon, @oh-no-another-idea, @nanashi23, @sleepyowlwrites, and an open tag for anyone else who wishes to join.

Your words shall be instill, physical, rational, character, & muse.

Sparkle: The Archivist's Journal, Day 62

Eventually, the girl’s parents realized what their stories had instilled in their daughter and chided themselves for not expecting this.  Afterall, had they not reacted the same way to similar stories at her age?  They sympathized with their daughter, seeing themselves in her, but having been so much a part of the world before and having seen hardships their little girl could not yet imagine as the price of those adventures, they were tired and weren’t ready to end their peaceful rest apart from the larger world.  And so, they told the girl that “One Day” they would all leave the forest on an adventure together when she was “Older.”  And in their hearts, they really did mean it, even if they had no idea when “One Day” would be and weren’t sure themselves what age “Older” was.

And so, the girl, even though she loved her parents and knew they loved her, grew frustrated with them.  “One Day” never seemed to get any closer and even though she grew older every day it never seemed to be enough to count as “Older.”

This frustration led to keeping a secret.  More than anything, the girl wanted to see the ocean.  Her forest had ponds and lakes, streams and rivers, but no sea.  That may sound strange to us who see the sea every day, but not all worlds are alike.  While it might be wondrous to us to see rain transform into tiny white crystals that float to the ground like leaves and sparkle like glass, to the girl such a wonder was merely called “winter” and was as normal as the rainy season.  And so, wishing to see the sea the girl built a boat on the edge of a river.  For months whenever she told her parents she was going out to play she would go to her boat and add more to it, until one day it was complete.

Doubt: Empty Names - 6 - Background Checks

As for her physical profile, a classic example of the other side of autogenesis.  A scarecrow of sickly skin and bone hiding under baggy clothes.  The exact kind of exaggeration you’d expect to manifest in a shut-in nerd with confidence issues.  Definitely not someone they’d be getting any fieldwork out of.  Looks like the autogenesis might even be holding back her transition.  That does manage to get a rare twinge of sympathy from him.  He’d not had that problem himself, but it’s not the first time he’s seen fear of change being impossible outweighing one’s identity.  Might be worth keeping an eye on what happens if she ever gets over those doubts; could make for an interesting rebound effect.

That said, Sullivan’s just about to finish mentally filing it all away as “boring IT tech to shove paperwork off onto” and move onto the next profile when he notices she finally sent in her equipment request last night.  About damn time.  Looking at the list, he wonders aloud what his friend told her she’d be doing.  Multiple high-end server racks.  Drones.  Projectors.  3D printers compatible with esoteric materials.  Blast-proof safety glass.  Laser cutters.  And “one small potted tree; bonsai or similar”.  Either she’s messing with him or those notes for followup need higher priority after all.  Approved in full either way.

Pop: The Archivist's Journal, Day 13

And then, in the center of the crossroads, at the edge of my lantern light I saw it.  At first I thought it was a villager, lost out in the mist like me, and I called out to them.  But then I realized they carried no lantern.  And then it turned towards me.  Its face was a featureless black plane save for the eyes - perfectly round glowing points similar to those of the nature sprite.  There was a wrongness to the thing’s movements as it approached me, alternatingly stiffly jerking its limbs and moving its whole body all at once in a smooth glide, its vaguely human form never getting more distinct despite getting closer in the mist.

I ran, of course.  And then nearly ran into another of the entities as it congealed from the mist in front of me.  Around this point I began panicking.  The obvious, rational thing to do would have been to try to get into one of the houses.  The villagers by all signs knew well enough to stay off the streets while the mist was out and had survived this long.  Of course, when you’re in the grip of a panic attack rational thought rarely enters into the equation, or if it does it’s in a distant back corner of your mind that’s screaming in frustration and despair as your body does the opposite of what it’s desperately trying to tell it to.  And so I just kept running and dodging around the shadowy figures standing around in the fog, all of them unearthly still until I alerted them to my presence after which they began following in my wake.  Thinking only of distance I blindly ran on, only dimly registering that I was making things worse by attracting attention.  Up until I blindly ran into a door.

Stumbling backwards to the ground from the impact I dropped my lantern, heard a crack, and saw the crystal pop out of its housing and roll away.  Watching it, still stunned, I saw the approaching shades smother its light.

Horror: Empty Names - 1 - Hello World

Whatever they were about to say gets drowned out by a crack of thunder that seems to be near-simultaneous with its progenitor lightning flash.  In the wake of the flash the room is plunged into darkness.  In the wake of the thunder the demon howls.  Before the howl even ends, Lacuna hears the sounds of her air mattress popping and her bedside table toppling.  Before she even reaches the door she hears a wordless shout from Road.  She’s still trying to find the doorknob in the dark when a green glow appears somewhere behind her.  She’s still trying to get her trembling hands to cooperate in undoing the deadbolts when the glow fades with a pained shriek she hopes is from the demon.  The door finally begins to open as everything goes quiet.  

Lacuna pauses.  Some part of her mind is screaming at her for being an idiot and not running.  She knows she should probably listen to that, but hope and curiosity are outweighing it.  Just like every horror character destined to die.  

Confuse: The Archivist's Journal, Day 24

As he was leaving, I suddenly remembered my musings from yesterday and stopped him to ask if he knew any stories about the Village’s founding.  The question itself seemed to confuse him.  The Village was the Village.  It had always been here.  I pointed out that things don’t just come from nothing.  Everything has a starting point.  Surely that would extend to the Village too?  He shrugged, said that he guessed so, but he was never really one for deep thoughts of that sort.  I half-jokingly said that seemed like a poor trait for someone of his occupation, and he sheepishly admitted that normally he just smiles and says whatever comes to mind and most of the time people calm down and things sort themselves out.  That’s part of the reason he was so glad I was able to help him today.

#tag game #writing tag games #find the word tag #writeblr #my writing

[martianmeli]

Thinking about my first Minecraft world.

I still remember every spot. Where the beach was, where the wolves always spawned. Where the first cave opening was. I could only play the standard pre loaded trial world for a year until my mother gave in and bought it. In the rush of excitement I never got the seed and the world was wiped. But I will always remember exactly where my life started each time.

I remember it like an old relatives house. You can’t really tell when you were there or even if you are supposed to remember, but the more you think about it the more you relearn.

I remember the island had a mountain in the middle. I remember where the skeletons always seemed to gather in the morning. I remember the weird little overhang that had a pond under its shade where I built my first non underground house.

While playing the game over again and again, I settled into a routine, although I never got tired of it. It felt peaceful.

I made a roller coaster. I spawned new chunks to explore the new spruce forest just outside of my little island. I always had one dog. I never named him. I never really named anything as a kid.

On my last ever play through the night before Christmas, I was playing until past my standard bed time. Not knowing it wouldn’t carry that world over, I decided to go mining as the minutes counted down one last time. I cannot remember if the timer was real or in my head, but I knew it was getting late. I reached the lip of the cave, and the two high gravel wall that blocked the ocean.

I built up.

Intending to make a path for my dog, I opened my inventory. Time was up. No breaking. No placing. He was stuck looking up at me. I tried to bring him up in any way I could, but he was there. Looking at me. Surprisingly, I can’t remember a single other mob as I was panicking, trying to get my child brain to think of anything to fix this situation. Its like the timer stopped everything besides me and the dog.

I wonder what he saw. Did he see me trying to rescue him? Was he oblivious to my efforts? Did he think I abandoned him, cold and scared in an unfamiliar cave? Did he know I cried for him? Did he know he was loved more than any other creature in his one day of life?

I still think about him sometimes. I wish I would have jumped down there with him. I wish I would have been there as the world was wiped so he wasn’t scared. I wish I could tell myself it’s just a video game and to not get emotional over it.

I wish I could see that pixel dog again. I’m sorry, pixel dog. I hope you weren’t cold down there without anyone. you are safe.

I love you pixel dog.

#minecraft #vent #vent post #emotions #childhood #nostalgic #pixel dog

[masivechaos]

Tell me what you think please it's for college and i'm a bit unsure about it ( but i also crave for living this )

Dear friend, 

I am sending you this letter following your request to discover the city I am now studying at. 

The college is one of the oldest of the country and one of the most elitist one. I entered it thanks to the Professor McKinnon. He studied there too. The classes are interesting and the rooms perfect for studying. And the English garden with its willows are always inspiring me to write poems and stories. 

The path leading to my residence is made of Scottish stones from the Isle of Skye, a legend tells that it is from the fairy nest on the island and that it brings luck and happiness to ones day to walk on it. I am starting to believe it for I always get good grades when I take that way. But it is not my favourite. 

In the garden of the residence - that is under the surveillance of the groundkeeper Miss Meadow - there is what is called a moon gate that leads to the university’s garden through the forest. It is silent and peaceful and sometimes there is wild animals who sneak into our residence garden. Sometimes it is squirrels, beavers or kelpies. I can assure you it is well liked by every one around. Miss Meadow also takes care that the kitchen is always cleaned and that every of her students has eaten and is doing well. Every morning she sits on her stone bench, in the garden, with her cup of tea, and wish a nice day at every one passing. I often hear students say she is a fairy and that she arrived with the stones of the path. I do not believe that, but it would explain her old age. You see, she is in her seventies or so, almost as old as my aunt Hilda. Though I think she is more of a witch than a fairy, as fairies are supposed to be small and calm creatures which Miss Meadow is not. She is a tall woman with long grey hair and is always doing something in the house or in the garden. Moreover, she has that black dog that seems almost human when it looks at you. I told my parents she probably transformed someone into a dog, but they did not believe me. Its name is Orion, like the galaxy in the constellation of the dog. It makes me even more suspicious of her. 

For the city, I do not know much about it yet, as I passed most of my days inside working or reading. The weather is already cold so I choose to stay inside. But I adventured there once or twice, and here what I can tell you about it. The streets are always glistening because of the rain and the shops and houses have to be constantly lighted or it is too gloomy. It makes you want to get inside and pull covers around you. But on sunny days, the streets are full of people, in fact it is a very lovely city. Some shops put tartans on their front to show their allegiance to the clan or as a memory of its power, and everywhere you go you can hear people talk in a rough language which can seem scary at first. In pubs and cafés, there’s always a ‘Slaìnte!’ addressed to everyone. I ought to learn Gaelic or I will forever be an outcast to them. 

There also is the garden of the Prince Edward with the beautiful kiosk on the island in the middle of a pond. It is verdoyant and peaceful, a lot of art and literature students like to explore it to get inspiration for their work. It is a must see if you visit the city. One can travel the pond using the little boats on the beach. It is a tradition to leave a penny for the fairies in the boat to assure a safe travel. On the island and nearby the kiosk, there is a statue of a dog. It is said to guard the island waiting for its owner to come back. If you see the statue, you must pet its head to thank it. So many did it that its head is now shining to the sun. The park has a back enter which open on the forest at the end of my residence’s garden. It is an English garden and everybody is taking care of it, some waters the plants, over chase the cats and dogs that disturb the peaceful atmosphere. It is cherished by every inhabitants, even ‘Sassenach’ as I. 

 I lack of time to tell you more about it, but I am looking forward to meeting you here next month. Take care, friend. 

Sincerely Yours, 

Aveline A. Frye 

omg i love this so much!! the names are 👌. also, the place you just described is so pretty, i want to go there!! really i was travelling! love how they you explain things without being boring yk? i like the stories about fairies and stuff <3

#you are so talented omg #margot is answering! ੈ✩‧₊˚ #mutuals ੈ✩‧₊˚ #⋆ ★ lele ★⋆

[mybloodyfamousprophets]

Taking the go train out from the city. Running around your friends little suburb that’s a copy paste of everywhere else in the province, but it’s still theirs. Seeing the stars on lake scugog after a half hour drive. Taking a bus and running wild around my hometown seeing all the spots from when i was 6. Wandering around sauga seeing where I could’ve been if I didn’t leave, and what’s changed since I was 13. heading out to niagara, the crumbling tourist trap of a town that was the backdrop to a lot of my dumb kid adventures. The spots in Burlington on the water where i fucked around and met people i never saw again. the abandoned bus stop overlooking the pond behind the university where i smoked and talked with strangers and grew my soul just a little. late night drives on the highway watching the scenery change from houses and offices to the city lights. driving up north and looking at the little ski village and snowed in forest clearing with the biggest eyes you could dream of. fireworks in the night for olympics on the other side of the country that you’ve still never seen. driving to the subway station at the city limits so you could take the train in for a taste of city life years before you moved there. walking out at bloor yonge, or yonge and dundas, or union, tasting a whole different world than kid you was used to, something you could see but never have, until you did, and you got lost in it.

you know this city like the back of your hand but you lose yourself in it every time. or that’s what you try to convince yourself, when you hang around and study or smoke or whatever in the same few spots, because even in this crazy city everything and everyone has to go somewhere. and even when the years pass and the shops get razed for condo buildings, the streets are torn up for a new subway, some things still manage to look the same as they did. when the light shines at the right angle when you’re walking by the right spot, when you see a place you’ve associated with your memories, for a split second you don’t exist in 2023. there hasn’t been a pandemic, you could still try to afford to live here on your own, the radios playing Hold On We’re Going Home, you could see a shadow of those old shops where the new high rises stand, the old bar your parents took you to, these things all come back to life again if only for a moment. but that second is over and all those things really did happen, and you’re standing here in the present surrounded by it all, and you can only see the past like a glimpse of a maintenance sign in a subway tunnel in between stations.

or in old photographs, the ones that survived anyways, memories etched into chemical emulsions and digital files, those old songs are still there, and even if things will never be the same, you can live and feel now with your own perspective while enjoying the good things you can scrape from the past, because ultimately the world exists here today, not in the past or in a photograph, and these songs i write are my experiences in the present as shaped by things in the past, and not everything is a true story because the true stories really aren’t always so pretty to tell, and that’s the art of telling a story anyways, you dramatize it a little to make it engaging to its audience, right? so i get to be a little dramatic and let my pen run free. like that spiritual stranger at the bus stop who preached peace love and harmony, green is an energy of focus and of creating something, and i try to create something, dipping my pen using my heart as the inkwell and putting a little piece of it in the shit that i write on this blog

and so from all of this comes the theme, the story of my life and things that happened along the subway line, the places ive been and memories associated with them, the things that happened in my life that brought me here today. it wouldn’t be in any chronological order but from left to right, i imagine myself starting it off with a melancholy nostalgic guitar or something for Kipling, the start of my adventures, where we kicked off into the city when i was a kid and didn’t live here, coming in with family and all that time spent

i need to write when i think of things because i have things in my head all the time and just never put them anywhere and there’s some things i wanna make before i forget

there’s a post on this account for the stop Jane. i would clean that one up a lot cus it gets nasty and angsty and a little horny by the end of that post and a lot of that needs a cut.

St. George would be a nostalgic ode to the city, it just feels right

christie bathurst spadina could be their own trio with each song telling a different but overlapping part of the story - high school and nostalgia, young queer love, and the breaking apart of it all, when i don’t have so many essays i wanna put pen to paper for these 3

woodbine i get to write nostalgic memories of times at the beach :3

broadview, seeing my first concert, freezing out in the cold and getting a shitty balcony seat but having the best time of my life, tearing up getting to hear drunk drivers and beach life Live, having my own little moment of turning my shit around

probably more that isn’t coming to mind in this second

or not, but i dunno, i have a long ways to go, i still haven’t even recorded anything or picked up a guitar, maybe after exams? (^:

[xtruss]

Fireflies and Lighthouses: A Tour of Maine’s MidCoast

Photographer Acacia Johnson savors oysters, retreats to a lakeside cabin, and captures the magic of Maine in a statewide tour.

— By Christina Nuñez | Photographs By Acadia Johnson | June 28, 2023

Joel Osgood fishes on the shore of Pemaquid Pond at Otyokwa near Bremen, Maine.

There's something about the light in Maine. During the day, sunshine reflects off crisp blue waters, casts angles across tidy seaside cottages, and illuminates curious creatures in tide pools.

The shoreline of Pemaquid Pond in Bremen, Maine at Otyokwa.

But it's the darker twilight and clear night skies that captivated Acacia Johnson when she first visited Maine as a photography student. Spending the summer in Rockport as an intern with Maine Media workshops, she experienced nights dotted with fireflies and stars, warm enough to take a lake swim. For Johnson, who grew up in Anchorage, Alaska—where summer is midnight sun season—it was a revelation.

"When I think back on that first summer in Maine, it was this experience of childlike wonder at things in the natural world that were actually very simple but, to me, seemed totally magical," Johnson says. The documentary photographer recently revisited Maine for a statewide tour. The journey reminded her, among other things, of what it was like to play with that remarkable light as a photography student years earlier.

"Being able to have these dreamy blue hours and colorful transitional light experiences almost every day in a variety of landscapes, everything from coastlines to mountains to pine forests and lakes—there was just so much there," she recalls. "It was very inspiring to me at the time."

Fresh, Delicious Wonders Along the Coast

Johnson's trip began in Maine's MidCoast and Islands region, where she boarded an oyster boat in the village of Pemaquid with knowledgeable captains to learn how Johns River Oyster brings its oysters from nursery to market. The farm tour is one of many available along the Maine Oyster Trail, where visitors learn and taste their way through the state's four oyster-producing regions.

Oyster farmers David Cheney and Charles Rose collect oysters at the Johns River Farm South Bristol, Maine. The two lifelong friends have been working in seafood here their whole lives.

The trail encompasses at least 75 businesses and offers oyster lovers rewards as they wend their way through raw bars, shuck trucks, and tours accessible both by boat and on foot at riverside farms.

"I had no idea how little I knew about oysters before this experience," Johnson says. "It was fun spending time with people who had a lifetime connection to the place where they live and work. It added a layer of depth to the time there."

A Peaceful Lakeside Retreat

Johnson also loved staying at Otyokwa, a former boys' camp for city kids established in 1935. Today, the 40-acre property next to Pemaquid Pond offers stays at its lakeside cabins, farmhouse, and two houseboats.

“My favorite photos were from the edge of the water at Otyokwa during an evening there. At twilight, the surface of the water turned silky and reflective, merging the clouds with the colors and depth of the lake. It was serene.” — Acacia Johnson National Geographic Photographer

The stay at Otyokwa, with the chance to go canoeing and swimming and just generally be immersed in that incredible light, Johnson notes, is part of what made the spot so special.

A historic boys camp established in 1935, this group of cabins has now been transformed into a lakeside retreat.

Special as it is, Otyokwa is one of many lodging options that give Maine visitors a way to slow down and appreciate the views. You can pitch a tent on spectacular campgrounds, stay at a bed and breakfast, or take on an outdoor adventure resort.

The scenes took Johnson back to that first formative trip to Maine. At the end of that summer, she channeled that "blue hour experience energy," as she calls it, into an Arctic photography expedition that became her first successful project.

"It was this immersive sensory experience that, in many ways, sparked so much of the rest of what happened in my photo career," Johnson says.

Lighthouse Views

At 3,478 miles, Maine has more coastline than any other state in the contiguous United States, giving it a wealth of both vistas and delicious seafood. Visitors to MidCoast and Islands find not only oysters but lobster shacks, storied dining destinations like The Lost Kitchen, and classic spots like Wasses, famed for its hot dogs.

Johnson also visited Pemaquid Point Lighthouse Park, with its Fishermen’s Museum and a light tower originally commissioned by John Quincy Adams in 1827 that is still active today. The museum preserves the fishing and marine heritage of the Bristol area, including captains’ logs and photos.

The Pemaquid Point Lighthouse faces out towards the sea in Bristol, Maine.

Pemaquid Point’s tower is one of more than 60 historic lighthouses in the state. Some of them are only accessible on Maine Open Lighthouse Day, which is held annually in September.

[libidomechanica]

“You have offered”

—Yet wast thou think it soon will waft     thee hence! Mountain go, up to the wrongs herself she cried, you     love us, play no more. Than any Kurd more helpless! Thou     surely cannot tell. Love. And my roots will aid if men will     call in an hour where blind

wildbeast of force, whose little muddy     pond of water, never gave a lock of hair away     to a man, Dearest, bury me under the bay. And warm     with dew? I am gone into the garden-ground of a     silver name is yoked with

visions, and columbines, cool parsley,     basil sweet, O Love, dear children, call no more;—Farewell!     With every one, the dove to their golden store in Autumn’s     sickle, Winter frosty dark; and as ye her array, still     noble motion: and I

saw that equal baseness lived     in me, the weird affectionate light, having lived on the     woods may answer, nor your love died: it is like since you going     to thee impart, and which may let in a little by     little step beyond, and,

though a light from infancy; and     the forest bare, lest aught of the valley road. But when we     heard the drowsy sacristan still countrywomen! Time to     tell aught else: so mighty spels, nor damned ghosts are pecking pearly     bite; and to be praised

if all be well! To tumble, Vulcans,     on the pine its garlands of farewell. The Choristers     the ioyous Antheme sing, that all the woods no more! You have offered     theme of you that live bath, each fish, which comfort? Up in     the slanted hail-storm, down

he dropt towards to the Sun grew broader     toward his death and fell, and thou fayre Hebe, and wert o’erjoyed     to peep in at a hole, and have sought. And ah for a moment     face with eyes wide whites showing before the stormy night,     to tinge, on syren shores,

the Mauis descant playne, that those     deceptions which it couched, close by the dead, since she her name is     Martha Ray about this she knows, maybe the ball that godless     cleft with passion from the fair and worth it? Some fresher     stamp of the state of thing

vncomely euer may thereto     applaud and loud and look too, into the voice within your     melancholy! And would answer, All will yet be well! A     crocus too stoic to open, won’t. We twain, although she     perhaps he mixt with flowers

and husbands, I do confesse     they played to me: we fear, indeed, whereof this same night. Was     caught in the winter stand and women, up till the wood so     late, a furlong from Heaven, for earth we are but pilgrims     made, and honey fed; who,

when we saw that tear! To make him     seem long hence as he spake, her looks were she: how pretty her     blush of eve was waning slow, and twang’d it inwardly; for     at the firelight touch’d, and bleached by time and the Southern     morn. Like resurrection

in front of every captain waits     hungry for honour, lay me in the air, no, no, not one     looke to glaunce awry, which, erring here; and the wintry world     appear, and have more celestial threasures grieve not me,     and o’re, our own rest

imperial tent whispers to you     with a smile; then from my breast almighty ever-present     heere, to lag behind, and the wylde wolues which made so fair.     Ill mother dear mother with a ring at the air of love     and pity. Why stand we

here? From their deeds; lilies that you     cannot claim: let thy white should it move to life and sour     prentices, With new surprise; her belly, buttocks, and sings, snapping     his style admire and I will say no. Peace, you youngest     sate on her: for the night

be better used where the serene     father’s camp, and mad, the wind of banners that passes for     to beye, first streak of day! The groom gat sae fou’, he fell awald     beside this aged thorn; no leaves to hide those gentle     bird, whom thy lady died!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #148 texts #ballad

[boykingdom]

Dean doesn’t have to drive far before he finds Cas. He’d had a hunch Cas might be waiting for him no matter the direction he went, but still he can’t help the sigh of relief he lets out when he sees the slump of Cas’ shoulders among the trees.

He doesn’t have to walk far, either, once he’s pulled the Impala into the grass beside the road and let the metal door shut behind him with a creak. He’s in the forest after a few paces—it’s a pretty forest, all green and overgrown, the tan of Cas’ coat standing out purely for its dullness. Cas’ back is to him and he’s looking down at something, hands in his pockets, but the rigidity with which he holds himself gives away his awareness of Dean’s presence. Cas won’t turn toward him but will angle his head so Dean can see the sharp line of his cheekbone, like he’s any sort of thing that would need ears to gauge how close Dean is.

Dean has half a mind to hesitate, to stop and take a deep breath and collect his thoughts or something, but he’s so fucking tired of not being near Cas and of schooling how much he gives away to Cas in every conversation that he walks up so their shoulders are inches apart and he doesn’t think twice about it. He looks down to take in what Cas is looking at and finds a small pond with a few muddy-gray fish scooting their bellies across the silt. Dean thinks Cas might be gearing up for a speech about the fish and creation and humanity, something nice and cinematic to bookend their journey, but instead Cas says, “Hello, Dean.”

That works, too. At least Dean knows how to respond to that one. “Heya, Cas.”

They’re silent for a second.

“Sam?” says Cas. 

“Went off to the Roadhouse. Wanted to see Bobby and Ellen and Jo,” says Dean. “But you knew that already.”

“Mm. I did.”

They both watch the fish drift. One comes close enough to the surface to form gentle ripples in the water.

Then Dean is smiling, because he can see Cas out of the corner of his eye, see the way he shifts and fidgets and is so clearly also looking at Dean out of the corner of his own eye. It occurs to Dean that Cas is nervous—that after everything they’ve been through, after the end of the world, after Cas’ big sacrifice, this angel of the Lord is nervous to speak to his best friend of twelve years. Dean can’t help but take the opportunity to tease him.

“What, did you think we’d never talk about it?”

A pause. Cas half-grumbles, “I thought I’d have a few decades to prepare something to say.”

And then Dean is laughing and laughing and bent over double with it because this whole thing is so fucking absurd and he’s so happy to be standing here next to Cas, weird and awkward Cas who pulled him out of Hell and told Dean he was in love with him just months ago. Cas who he thought he had lost forever. Dean laughs so hard he cries and then he—he cries, and cries, and he’s not laughing anymore. It happens fast and hard. Cas finally turns to him, eyes wide and hands suspended in front of him like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch. Dean’s sniveling and holding his jacket sleeve under his nose so his face doesn’t get all snotty but he probably looks fucking gross anyway, the way the tears won’t stop coming. Cas says, “Dean?” all worried and concerned. Dean practically falls forward into him, wraps his arms around Cas’ waist to clutch at the back of his coat and shakes when Cas immediately holds him in return.

“I missed you so bad,” Dean sobs into Cas’ shoulder. “I missed you so bad. I thought I would never see you again. I missed you so bad.”

“Oh,” Cas breathes. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Cas hugs him tighter, leaving no spaces between their bodies. His voice breaks a little when he says, “I missed you, too.”

They stand like that for a moment. The forest buzzes around them, twiddling with birds and squirrels and insects. Dean breathes Cas in, feels him warm and safe and real in his arms. It’s a small piece of Earth here in Heaven. Unlike any other time before, Dean lets himself lean into it, touch Cas without Death looming over their shoulders. It feels good.

Dean does calm down after a few minutes, and as much as he would love to freeze time and stay suspended in that moment, he knows he can have even more if he gives it one last push. He pulls away, Cas’ hands sliding off his coat, lingering. “Sorry,” he says, a little embarrassed despite himself.

“Don’t be,” says Cas, in a way a that shows he really means it. Dean clears his throat and looks at him. Cas looks back. The whole thing is so achingly familiar, so akin to how they were when they first met. Even when Cas was alien and unknowable and potentially a threat, Dean always had to stifle the breathless thrill of having Cas’ attention. He doesn’t stifle it now.

He hasn’t quite internalized all the things Cas said to him, but he can see Cas was telling the truth about one thing—he is clearly so happy to be standing at the edge of this pond with Dean. Nothing in his gaze is asking for something more.

And as much as Cas would argue differently, Dean isn’t as good as him. He was never content just wanting. He had long ago accepted that he could never have Cas, sure, had recognized that he would spend the rest of his life with a horrible ache in his chest, that he would white-knuckle the wheel of the Impala to keep himself from touching. But he couldn’t find peace with it. Love rotted in him like a body at the bottom of a well. He spent a long time thinking it would kill him and kill Cas too, that it was a weapon to be used against them both, that the heat of his gaze would actually burn Cas if he looked long enough. He still has to choke down those half-formed thoughts when he looks at Cas now and can see in his eyes that he loves Dean without reservation, that despite everything he doesn’t think of Dean’s love as a death sentence. That he wants him.

Dean’s mind was made up the second Bobby had mentioned Cas’ name on the porch. It took him too long to untangle that part of himself that couldn’t separate loving men from danger, but he did untangle it, in the end.

“I know I can do it,” Dean says, both to Cas and to himself, “but I think it might be hard.”

Cas’ brow flickers in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he answers, gesturing lamely at the two of them, at the space between them. He swallows, steels himself, thinks of all the words he spent the nights since Cas died murmuring into his pillow, deliriously drunk. “I don’t know— I don’t know how to be this to someone— to you. I’ve never— and you’re—”

He’s getting frustrated, is upset that after thinking so long and hard about this moment for so many years he somehow still doesn’t know how to explain to Cas how much he means to him, how much he wants him, how hard it is to beat down his self-hatred and accept that he might just deserve Cas, too. But Christ, he wants to try.

“Dean?” Cas says. Dean can see in his expression the flowering bud of hope. He is so beautiful.

“I love you too,” Dean says, because it’s the best explanation he can give. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat. Cas blinks; his mouth drops open. “God, Cas, you have to know that. Of course I love you too.”

“You mean...?” Cas can’t finish the question. He’s looking at Dean like a man finding faith, finding Heaven. Dean feels so overwhelmed and so happy for the two of them and surely he’s still red from crying before, but again he feels himself burning.

“I’ve been yours,” he chokes out. “You can have me. Please.”

Cas kisses Dean. It happens so fast that Dean feels it coming rather than sees it, feels Cas’ hands on his face, feels himself be tugged forward. Cas’ hands are shaking and Dean’s are too when he grips the front of Cas’ shirt and the back of his neck, eyes closed tight, learning the shape of his mouth. It’s hard and a little desperate and not at all artful, and Dean’s whole self feels a bit like an open wound but Cas is healing him, like he always has, like he has since the beginning.

Dean pulls away for air but doesn’t pull far, keeping his forehead pressed to Cas’ and his eyes shut. Cas’ thumb strokes his cheekbone. “Dean,” Cas says, and Dean takes a deep, shuddering breath. The way Cas says his name doesn’t scare him anymore.

Dean opens his eyes. He smiles. “Hi,” he says.

Cas smiles back.

**

They’re sitting in the Impala, Dean’s hand on Cas’ thigh, when Cas asks, “What do you want to do now?”

Dean pauses, thinks. The answer to what do you want has been Cas for so long, but he never let himself think far enough to decide what he would do if he ever got him. He’s safe, Cas is safe, Sam is safe. Realistically, he shouldn’t want for anything.

He looks out the Impala’s windshield, smooths the hand not holding Cas over the steering wheel. He knows that he loves this car with everything he is—that for a long time it was the only home he had. He also knows that he’s tired of the road. Desire has always come too easily to Dean.

“I think I’ll build us a house,” he answers, and immediately he knows it’s the right thing to do. They can pick a spot wherever Cas wants—Dean’s not picky. It’ll be something solid, something with walls that he built with trees he cut himself. Something that reflects the home he already built for Cas, the one that lives between his ribs.

Cas’ eyes light up. “I like that plan,” he says. “I want that, too.”

Years ago, Cas had sat in Dean’s passenger seat and asked him if he would rather have peace or freedom. Dean never got the chance to answer him.

Dean leans across the seat and kisses Cas again, open-mouthed, slow. He does it for him now and for the version of himself who mourned the distance between them. It’s answer enough.

#spn #supernatural #deancas #destiel #15x20 coda #i know the finale happened so long ago and also isn't real but i had to try my hand #i'll reblog this when the europeans wake up 🏃‍♀️ #my fanfiction

[fandomlit]

neutral, chap. 2 (dream smp x reader)

series summary (in game!au) when an exiled tommy finally rebels against a manipulative dream, he finds safety in neutral territory, a place owned and guarded by you. staying in your safe haven opens up the younger one’s eyes to your way of life, while also revealing your deeper past before neutral; a past that involved a war for your love.

chapter summary tommy learns a little bit more about your relationship with dream before spending his day with ghostbur, exploring neutral territory and learning of the war that sparked its creation.

warning mentions of war, violence, and injuries

previous | series masterlist | next

gif cred belongs to @chillcrafting

“you have a package, y/n!” ghostbur called out just as you placed tommy’s breakfast in front of him. the ghoul’s words went completely ignored by tommy, whose gaze was solely focused on the beautiful stack of pancakes placed in front of him.

y/n smiled to herself. “you can bring it in, bur. i know who it’s from.” she shuffled syrup and butter over to tommy just as ghostbur came in with the fateful package.

tommy was already half way through scarfing down the stack of pancakes when y/n managed to open the package, ghostbur gazing over her shoulder. she took out a note set atop of the contents.

she read aloud, “y/n, i’m sorry i haven’t properly stopped by in a while. my work requires much of my undivided attention right now, which i’m sure you understand. please work your magic for me with the clothes included, and i will be sure to drop by for them and a meal soon. there are a few extra gifts included for you. i hope tommy isn’t burdening you. signed dream.”

“i’m not a burden!” tommy spoke offendedly through a mouthful of pancakes.

“you’re right, tommy,” y/n hummed, handing him a napkin to wipe some syrup off of his chin. “you’re perfect company.” tommy smiled to himself as he finished off his stack of pancakes. y/n sighed to herself, “clay really knows how to ruin a good piece of clothing..”

“so you and dream are close, y/n?” tommy grumbled, picking up his glass of milk.

she shrugged. “as close as you can be with someone you barely see.” she placed his battered clothes to the side, sighing again when she saw the rest of the contents of the box. tommy didn’t realize this, continuing with his questions.

“i remember that he respected your territory when he stepped into it,” he recalled. “he was going to kill me, but then he realized he was in neutral.”

y/n nodded. “when i made claimed this territory as neutral, i made a deal with everyone: i would mend and tailor anything you needed as long as you respected my territory as neutral.” she held up a box of diamonds and a smaller box of netherite to tommy’s view, making his mouth drop open with surprise. y/n held out another napkin to him for the milk that had sputtered out of his open mouth while ghostbur laughed into his hand. “clay is the only one who still tries to pay me.”

“with netherite?!” tommy exclaimed, letting out a surprised laugh.

y/n shrugged, seemingly not phased by the generous gift. “the nether..” she shook her head, placing the valuable materials onto the table, “is not a place i like to go. and most of this will probably be going toward dream’s armor, anyway.” she sighed, placing the gifts back into the box and laying the tattered shirts on top of them. “trust me, he’s still too kind for his own good with these sorts of materials.”

“how much netherite does that man have?” ghostbur scoffed, looking at how much was contained in the box.

“probably quadruple that amount,” y/n chuckled. “he has far too much free time.”

“and he doesn’t even spend it with you,” ghostbur sighed, shaking his head with a goofy smile.

“i know!” y/n spoke sarcastically before laughing out. she closed the box and set it under the table. “i’ll deal with that later. do you want any more pancakes, tommy?”

“no, i’m stuffed,” the teen yawned. “but thank you.”

she nodded. “well, then how about ghostbur shows you around the territory today?”

the boys perked up immediately. “really?”

“yeah,” she laughed, taking tommy’s empty plate. “you two can take the day to explore and have fun. go be a kid, kid.”

tommy excitedly looked up to his ghost friend. “fancy a game of ultimate tag?”

“you’re gonna get crushed,” ghostbur laughed before they both ran out of the house, laughing. y/n smiled.

“oh! i should make them lunch..”

...

“how big is this place?” tommy laughed after a few rounds of tag. they had found their way to a pond in a forested area, tommy deciding his knee needed a break after all of their running. 

“it’s bigger than you think,” ghostbur assured, making sure to keep an appropriate distance from the water as they sat along the small shore. “y/n claimed the territory before l’manberg, so there really wasn’t any need for a turf war of any sorts for what she settled.”

“how long has she lived here?” tommy questioned.

ghostbur shrugged. “almost two years, i think. she’s made quite the life for herself since.” more to himself, he muttered, “god, has it really been that long since it happened?”

“since what happened?” tommy asked, leaning closer to his friend with sparkling, curious eyes.

ghostbur sighed, “i’ll admit, i don’t remember too much.. but i know there was a fight. one of the first wars of our time, and it was all over y/n.”

“they were fighting for her?” tommy spoke with confusion. “she’s not an object.”

“very good, tommy,” ghostbur prided, patting his friend on the shoulder. “you’re right, she’s not. that’s why y/n left her original home and sought to create neutral territory; to end the fighting and create a place where peace could reign. in exchange, she’d offer her goods and services.”

“so they were fighting over her for her skills,” tommy understood. ghostbur made a face. “..or not?”

“both sides obviously wanted her skills, but i think y/n tends to neglect the fact that they were all madly in love with her,” ghostbur sighed, shaking his head.

tommy raised his eyebrows. “a crime of passion, eh?” he joked, making them both laugh out before he asked, “who was it?”

“let me think,” ghostbur sighed, tapping his chin. “i know one was dream, but the other.. i think it was-”

“boys! lunch is ready when you are!”

tommy turned back to ghostbur. “well? who?”

ghostbur shook his head. “sorry, tommy, i don’t remember that far. that’s as much as i can tell you.”

tommy couldn’t help but fel disappointed, but he knew he couldn’t blame his friend. “that’s alright, ghostbur. let’s go get lunch before y/n comes looking for us.”

...

after lunch and an insistent rematch of tag, ghostbur and tommy made their way to the organized garden area.

“y/n grows anything you can imagine,” ghostbur bragged as tommy marveled as the fluorescent, beautifully natural area. “she’s been to nearly every biome to complete her garden.”

“you can grow cocoa?!” tommy exclaimed when he finally spotted y/n, who was swinging an axe at a low jungle tree.

“y/n found a way,” ghostbur shrugged, guiding tommy over to her. “hey, y/n!”

“hi, boys,” she smiled, plucking off the plant she had loosened from the tree. “was lunch good? im sorry i didn’t stay and chat.”

“it was delicious,” ghostbur complimented, tommy nodding in agreement as his mind drifted back to the mouth watering coleslaw and toasted sandwiches she had prepared.

“that’s good!” she smiled, placing the cocoa plant on the ground. “you boys may want to step back.” they did as told as y/n swung her axe over her head, splitting the cocoa clean in half and revealing the delicious beans inside of it. “voila!”

ghostbur clapped politely. “thank you,” y/n laughed, dropping her axe and picking up the split plant. “would you boys like a sample?”

“sure,” tommy shrugged, stepping forward with ghostbur. he picked out a few beans before popping them into his mouth. breaking through the semi-tough shell, the delicious, dark taste flooded his taste buds and made him nearly moan, as y/n’s food often did. he and ghostbur shared a look of satisfaction before he voiced, “oh, y/n.. they’re perfect.”

“that’s good,” she laughed before nudging her bucket closer to her and scooping the seeds out into it. “how has your day around the territory been?”

“entertaining,” tommy spoke before asking, “how did you get into gardening, y/n?”

y/n gave ghostbur a knowing smile before she answered the younger boy’s question, “i was tired of eating only meat and bread. gardening was a way to expand my diet to more than just carbs and proteins. also, it’s very calming.” they followed when she hiked up her bucket and moved to the next jungle tree.

“is it?” tommy questioned.

she affirmed with a nod. “it’s nice to be able to spend a day tending to things you made. the fruits of your own harvest are the sweetest, they say.” they watched as she knocked down another cocoa plant.

“they are,” tommy nodded solemnly, his mind drifting to a sadder, more familiar place. “that’s why i miss l’manberg.”

y/n was barely surprised by the boy’s open confession. she tossed her axe down again, going to place a hand on tommy’s shoulder. “i know you do, tommy, and i know it’s rough right now. but what we’re playing here is a waiting game; we’re waiting for a safe opportunity to get you home, and in the meantime, i’ll take care of you, kid.”

tommy offered you another nod and a smile. “we?”

y/n gave him a kind grin. “im going to help you as best as i can from where i am. and i know that’s not much from me, but i know that everyone deserves a home that they love. and you can’t get there alone, kid.”

“you’re right about that,” tommy sighed before looking into her kind eyes. “thank you, y/n. your help means a lot.”

she squeezed his shoulder. “of course, tommy. you and ghostbur go explore some more; try to keep your mind on the things you can control.” she picked her axe back up.

tommy looked to the pitying ghoul beside him before looking back to y/n, a new thought fresh in his mind. “can you teach me how to cook?”

y/n grinned as she lifted her axe over her head again. “of course i can, tommy.”

tommy smiled as she cracked open the plant. he looked back to ghostbur. “wanna go for a swim?” the ghost shot him a fearful look. “im kidding! im kidding, let’s go use some pigs for target practice.” they both began to walk off, chatting and giggling before tommy turned and called, “y/n!” she looked up attentively. “what’s for dinner?”

she smiled. “i was thinking ribs!”

tommy’s mouth watered at the thought. “oh my god, i can’t wait to learn how to cook..”

tag list!! @vanhakirja @victory-is-here @inkyynki @airiour @sylum @kiritokunuwu @221bee-slytherin @bllatrixcarpnter @soullesstaco @stxrryb1tch​ comment below or message me if you would like to be added <3

#youtubers x reader #youtubers fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfic #dream smp x reader #dream smp fanfic #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit fanfic #dream x reader #dream fanfic #ghostbur x reader #ghostbur fanfic

[petri808]

Ooooo can you do, “you’re my mate?” 🥺

Sure! 😊

@stillsnowfalling

“Natsu, you know our ways, and as heir to this clan, it is my duty to choose who you will marry!”

“But it’s not fair!”

“When you are finally king, you can change the rules, but until then, I have chosen to uphold tradition.”

“But dad!”

Igneel bellowed at his defiant son. “The nuptial rites will take place in three moons! That is final!”

Natsu stomped away from his father absolutely furious! This whole traditional bullshit of arranged marriages was as outdated as the most ancient scrolls held in their reliquary. Why was his father so adamant about upholding such an antiquated rule?! The draco clan was doing perfectly fine, what need was there for a marriage based on an alliance? At least give him a chance to choose his own bride so the union was one of love instead of condemnation.

“I won’t love whoever he chooses!” Natsu growled to himself, and his first ruling as king will be to pick someone he actually desired.

Because there was someone… he sighed, and dropped into a squat on the rock outcropping. When Natsu couldn’t stand being in the village anymore, he ran to a place that brought him a tiny bit of peace, deep in the forest. The tiny pond was hidden from prying eyes. None of his attendants or even friends knew about the place— save for one, if he could even call her a friend anymore…

It was here, in this very spot twelve years ago after the draco had once again run away from under his fathers thumb that he met her. Lucy whose last name he knew not. They were so young at the time. Natsu was a young draco of 7-year’s old, and she a 5-year-old forest fairy. Of course, it had nothing to do with love at that age, they were just two children running away for their own reasons and found a friend to play with. For the next two years, Natsu and Lucy would meet every day around lunch time and played until dusk or risk someone coming to look for them. They had so much fun together, it was truly the best two years of his life. The draco and the fairy…

Natsu still remembered the day Lucy never showed up at the pond like it was yesterday. How he went back every single day for months hoping to see those big brown eyes and wispy blonde hair waiting for him. But it wasn’t meant to be. He had no idea why she stopped coming or if she was even still alive. Had something bad happened to her? Or was it more likely her father had caught her running off into the woods? Lucy would tell him the stories of an over bearing father that made his blood boil over in anger. The problem was, she refused to tell him exactly where she came from.

The years passed by and his own father stepped up his son’s kingship training. Natsu didn’t like the constraint and many a time wished he’d been born a simple clansman. He often promised himself that one day when he did become king, he would send out his men to search for the wayward blonde of his childhood to make her his wife. But, Natsu never imagined that his father would step in to choose one for him first.

He sighed, and stared into the dark blue pool as if praying to its watery gods for a miracle. “Lucy…” if only Natsu knew where she was, he’d find her and run away from here…

The moons came and went in a flash, and the day of the nuptial rites had finally arrived. Natsu felt dead inside, his body merely following the instructions given to him. It was all scheduled out. Whoever was his bride-to-be had arrived with her family two days ago, but guards had kept him sequestered in his room, both for fear of him running away as well as upholding the tradition that they not meet until the the ceremony itself. Natsu was dressed in a ceremonial attire made of fine leather, and decorated in their clans red and gold colors. Every little detail was attended to, including painting his horns and wings with golden markings that he didn’t understand. All a part of the so-called tradition.

His cousin Sting came into Natsu’s room and gave him a couple of play punches on his shoulder. “Cheer up, it’s almost over.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Natsu rolled his eyes. “Do me a favor, and just shove a dagger in my heart.”

“She can’t be all that bad, and besides, if you ain’t happy with her, just find yourself a concubine.”

“Keh! You know that’s not allowed!”

“Only if you get caught,” the fellow draco winked.

“Just get out,” Natsu sighed in full disinterest. “I’m not in a mood to banter.” He just wanted to fantasize about brown eyes and dream of a happier life.

“Suit yourself.” Sting shrugged and left his cousin alone. “Your dad said someone will come to take you to the ceremony in an hour. So, at least try to look interested.”

“Tch.” As if that would happen…

Minutes before high noon, Natsu was led from his chambers to the ceremonial hut. It was skin crawling as he was paraded through the rows of awaiting onlookers like a goat being led to slaughter. At least, that’s how he felt. Not a future king, but a sacrifice just to satisfy an alliance. Once inside the wooden structure, there was only the priest, his father, and another man assumably the father of the bride standing to the sides. Natsu was stood in front of the priest to wait for the brides arrival, but kept his head down the whole time. While he wasn’t looking, his ears stayed tuned to the goings on around him, and after a brief wait, he could hear chatter coming from outside. She had arrived.

His scowl grew as the tiny steps came closer, every fiber of his being in argument— should he just run? But he knew he wouldn’t get far with the place surrounded. The priest began to speak and Natsu only half-listened. Most of it was rubbish anyways, the typical stuff one might hear in such a ceremony. Some chanting, some instructions. He just stood there silently, with eyes glued to the floor. But there was one thing he could sense, the female wasn’t happy either. Her silent sobbing coupled with the demoralized aura surrounding her body spoke volumes. He rolled his eyes. ‘Great, this union will be such a happy one! Thanks dad.’

“Please remove her headdress,” the priest instructed Natsu, “and take her hands.”

He groaned in his head, but followed the instructions like a wooden puppet, looking up for the first time since entering the building. Natsu pulled the dark veil up to finally get a look at the woman, but his hands froze midair as he stared into big brown eyes coated in moisture. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was it so distressed that it projected who he wanted to see?!

It was a gasp from the woman and the fluttering of gold-dusted fairy wings that snapped his brain back to the present.

“N-Natsu?!”

“Lucy? Y-You’re my mate?”

“I’m your mate,” she responded with a twinkle in her eyes.

Natsu looked towards his father in confusion only to find a man standing there with the biggest grin. Son-of-a— his dad knew all along! He smiled brightly and happily took Lucy’s hands at the priests insistent instruction to move along with the ceremony. But it was clear from that point that neither paid any attention to the priest, too focused only on each other. Little tears still trickled down her smiling face, while his sported a euphoric high. And when the words came to kiss the bride, Natsu gladly swept forward and took the lips he’d dreamed of kissing for years. He got his wish.

#nalu #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu au #fantasy au #nalu drabble #nalu fan fic #nalu fan fiction #asks and answers

[mellow-em]

Bittersweet Temptations

CHAPTER 3

[special dts: @bluewingedangel @siennamariia <3]

Your neighbors, Nathan and Elena, have been friends with your parents for years. Whether it’d be family gatherings or vacations, they were around; they were family. But when you return home from your final years of college, what will happen when you find that it isn't just them living in the house next door anymore?

_____________________________________

I wanted to say something.

I knew based on the long expressions plastered across their faces, that they were waiting impatiently for me to say something too.

But I physically couldn’t.

A knot cemented itself at the back of my throat, suffocating me as I tried to swallow. I could feel my mouth suffer through a drought as I did so.

All I could do was look at the three of them, internally wallowing in embarrassment with a load of questions making my head spin.

How could Nate and Elena keep something like that from me? What were they thinking? No. What was I thinking?

Suddenly, the voices of people scattered amongst the yard became too loud. Though, the stares directed towards me were louder.

“Y/n can you say something?”

Without even thinking, I felt my body turn away from them, and I carried myself away.

“Y/n?” I could hear Elena calling after me.

“I’ll just be a minute” I finally croaked back to her, relieved that I could finally get a word out.

I rushed past the deck towards the side of the house.

I knew in the back of my mind that I was being ridiculous. It wasn’t something to run away from; knowing they probably felt just as awkward telling me.

But I had to get away from Sam.

I couldn’t bear standing there while his smug grin could be seen in the corner of my eye.

It was driving me crazy.

Why does he insist on making this hard on me?

I continued to let my feet travel, not even worried about where I would end up. It felt good to step away from the chaos that my parents organized, for a while anyway.

But I soon found myself at the dead end of the street, in front of the wooded patches that lined the edges of the pavement; sectioning off the neighborhood from the forest.

Without any hesitation, I stepped past the barricading trees, and onto the trail that led to a place of sanctuary.

A small body of water sat on the indented ground, with blooming ferns and bushes fencing it. Farther away from the pond, large rocks collected together, forming makeshift seats to take in the atmosphere.

It looked like it belonged in a cheesy disney movie, or a landscape renaissance painting.

I found this place with Nate when I was little, and since then I would escape here when things become too much to handle.

I sat myself down on one of the largest slabs of rock, almost seeing the memories with Nate passing around me in the form of faded visuals; they were almost ghost-like.

I took myself into these moments one by one; succumbing to the laughter, the playfulness, the smiles, the thrill.

Even though I love my parents more than anything, the bundles of memories Nate and I shared, showed me a glimpse of adventure that my parents couldn’t give me.

The overwhelming feeling of contentment pushed a smile onto my face.

But in an instant, it all faded.

Sam.

That one moment with him feasted on my conscious mind like a ravenous vulture. It made my stomach churn in the worst possible way.

I sunk my head into my hands, huffing in frustration.

That is, until I heard a few raucous cracks of leaves and sticks not too far from me.

I fix my posture while whipping my head towards the direction of the noise, only to be met with guilty eyes.

Nathan stood there, leaning his upper body on the stiff trunk of a tree.

Perfect timing, Nate..

My lips flatlined as I scratched at the corner of my forehead, “Hey.”

He steps closer, leisurely but surely.

“Hey,” he gestures to the vacant space next to me, “can I?”

“Yeah.”

Placing both of his hands on his thighs, he plops down next to me, slightly grunting. We sat there in silence; but it wasn’t peaceful, it was impatient.

The both of us were longing to say something to one another, but neither of us preferred confrontation in the slightest. So we sat there, staring at the grove.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been here.”

I look over to him, noticing the tinge of nostalgia sketched upon his features.

“uh yeah.. yeah it really has,” I release a breath, reverting my eyes back to the pond, “almost 5 years.”

It was two days before I left for college. Screaming echoed throughout the house, and reverberated through my head, overwhelming my senses.

My parents chalked it up to being stressed over ‘my big move,’ which I can believe. But the words said that day pushed its way through me. I finally had enough of the nonsense and hollered back at them.

Big mistake. ‘you’re an absolute failure’ They said, ‘you’re never gonna go far.’

Long story short, I ran out of the house, and into the forest. I sat on this same rock, with tears planting glistening streams down my face.

Nate apparently heard the commotion, which wasn’t too surprising, and he made his way to me.

He didn’t even say a word before wrapping his arms around me; embracing me with a comforting warmth that slowly eased me back to normal.

‘Sic Parvis Magna,’ He said.

I was more than confused with those few words, until he began to speak once more.

‘Greatness from small beginnings. Now this isn’t exactly small, you know, with you leaving me here to go to college and all. But it is a new beginning- your new beginning. Don’t let anyone stop you from moving forward.’

That was the last day I saw this beautiful spot of ours, and the last time I really had a solid conversation with Nate; it made the final memory bittersweet at best.

“It really hasn’t changed a bit though.”

“Probably because change is dining elsewhere,”I tried to whisper under my breath, but unfortunately, he heard me loud and clear.

I look up at him in the corner of my eye, noticing his presence fall into a sea of guilt again.

He runs his hand through his surprisingly neatened hair, letting out a sigh that releases all of his proper posture.

“Look, y/n, I wanted to tell you. I really did. But it’s just-”

“Nate all I gotta ask is why? Why would you keep something that major from me?”

I had my body fully turned to face him now, while he still remained there; slouched with his head bowed to his fidgety hands.

I could tell he was stalling, swallowing his responses with force.

“Nate. Just tell me. Please.”

His eyes closed as he exhaled, “It’s a very long story.”

“I’ve got plenty of time.”

“Not exactly.” Roars of laughter within the distance cause both of us to look at the trail leading out of the woods, “we’ve still got a party going on, which happens to be for you, if I may add-”

“Seriously Nate, you think I care?” I was growing fretful, mentally pleading for him to just give up on excuses.

His hands raised in defense, “Fine, fine, okay..”

———

It didn’t even occur to us how long we’d been out here until the streams of sunlight disappeared from the ruptures in between the trees. The day was just replaced with the beginning of nightfall.

“So you’re telling me that Sam, your brother...who was presumed dead for 15 years, dragged you out across the globe to find Henry Avery’s treasure in 3 months because a drug lord was gonna kill him if you didn’t?”

Nate stifled a low chuckle, nodding along.

“So I take it you found it and gave the son of a bitch his cut? Well, since he’s alive and all-”

“Hey, language missy.” He attempted a scolding tone, but I could see through his thin facade.

I rolled my eyes, shoving him playfully,“Haha very funny. Now answer the question mister.”

“Well, it turns out the son of a bitch was Sam. He uh- lied about the whole thing.”

My eyes widened, “Wait what? So the drug lord- the sole purpose of the treasure hunt..”

“Yep it was all bullshit.”

I averted my wide-eyed gaze from him to the pond that was now lit with the blaring lights of fireflies,“Wow. I’m surprised no one got the chance to kick him in the face.. or balls.”

“Yeah Rafe- he pretty much took care of that one..”

The both of us laughed, causing a few birds to flutter away from the branches closest to us.

I missed this.

“Figured I’d find you two here.”

As our fit died down, we glanced over to a beaming Elena emerging from the trail with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I told your parents that you were comin’ over with us. I assumed you wanted some space from all the chaos.”

I showed my relief in the form of a warm simper, up until the realization punched me in the face.

Sam is gonna be there.

My body tensed, becoming a stiff statue in place. The lack of saliva in my mouth was back, and I felt my breath hitch silently.

I guessed the two of them noticed my change in demeanor.

“Are you okay y/n? You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Elena’s tone was gentle, as her grin faltered slightly.

“No no it’s fine it’s just- it’s nothing don’t worry,”I abruptly stood up, scratching at my forehead again, “lets go, back.”

“You sure?,” I felt Nate’s arm fall over my shoulders, giving me a faint squeeze as the three of us trudged down the path.

I needed to take my mind off of Sam, hopefully I can avoid him.

“Yeah..” my voice trailed off, “as long as I get to play a certain game that I happened to have the highest score of.” walking confidently with my head held high, I could still see Nate rolling his eyes.

“Actually, Elena has since claimed that title for herself.” Nate said frankly.

A dramatic gasp escapes my lips,“Elena, are you kidding me!”

“Hey, don’t get mad at the pregnant lady here,” she looks back at Nate and I as we continue to walk down the trail, “how about this: you two compete to try and beat my high score.”

Nate looks down at me with the same contemplative look I give him.

“And what’s the catch, hun?” Nate asks.

“Loser gets pushed or thrown into the pool.”

Well well well, Elena’s finally getting in on our shenanigans.

I smirked, “This is gonna be light work.”

“Oh really now? I just know you’re secretly afraid that I’m gonna win.”

“Sure, Nate. I’m not gonna lose, you’re all bark and no bite.”

It was his turn to let out a theatrical breath,“How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”

While Nate and I went on with our child like banter, Elena laughed hysterically at our foolishness,“You two are absolutely ridiculous.”

Nate glances back at me, only this time his fist patiently waited in front of me for a fist bump, “you ready to get destroyed?”

I scoff, hitting my fist on his, “You’re on.”

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