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#its also very twisty

frostywisp · 11 months

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TIL, "vader" means father in proto-germanic

i learnt this from the Dresden Files btw.

im nearly done reading "Cold Days"; I've torn thru the whole (so far) 17?-book series in like, 2 mths? i think i might want to slow down a little before the plot starts to bleed into each other

P.S. if any Dresden fans wonder how my searches led me to this, keyword: "Kringle"

#daily frost noises #dresden files #darth vader #star wars #its so funny lmfao #i love the dresden files so much holy shit #also that fucking twist whr [THAT CEO] is actly [THAT jolly red guy]#that was a twist that was very twisty #hopefully i plugged up the spoilers for anyone who hasn't read to this point yet #but just in case #spoilers

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artsy-book · 28 days

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asking u one thing :

how/when did you start watching minecraft smps (empires, hermitcraft, etc) ?

so how i got INTO watching minecraft content is a bit of a funny story to me

so in like mid 2019 i had started seeing lots of really cool dsmp art in the explore section of insta when i was on the app. i at the time had no idea what dsmp was but i loved the art. in december of that year i found dream's man hunt videos and watched all of them and somehow got to tommy and wilbur from dream. and from wilbur and tommy i got into the dsmp, finding all the dsmp people and the surrounding mcyters (scott and shubble for some examples)

and near the end of 2020 to beginning of 2021 my one brother showed me some of grian's videos (i think it was one of the one's he did with mumbo? im thinking the one where they built grian/mumbo proof houses?) and through that i got into hermitcraft, starting with watching grian's s7.

and that basically leads to now ^-^ my dates for things might be a bit off but thats a pretty rough timeline of how i got here lmao

ask game

#artsy.ask #to me it feels like a very conveluted and twisty path to hermitcraft #but i also love to look at how i go from one thing to another to end up with what i watch now #another thing related to mcyters that i find interesting is that one could argue i started watching youtube with a mcyter #bc markiplier did drunk minecraft way back. i just didnt watch him when he did it lmao #i find that bit of info very fun as well on my journey lmao #also i think its kinda cool that i got into minecraft content bc of the art and now i MAKE art about mcyt content ^-^

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motorball · 2 years

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reading so much about robot pet modding scenes in the past few days and its making me so mad about how dbh did not explore the fact that there absolutely would be a very active custom android scene in this universe. perhaps or even most likely spearheaded by androids themselves. and also thinking about eatr and thinking how this kind of biofuel technology could have explained why alice needs food while keeping her android/human status ambiguous/up to interpretation which would make things way more interesting. i bet a ton of people with android children would get them modded with a biofuel system so they could do Human Kid things like Eat Dinner With Family

#i mean markus kiiind of mods himself #but its ONE EYE COME ONnnnnn come on #i also think concept alice is way cool #i think it would have been really neat to have a 'cyborg' concept alice like not in the sense of futurey fiction cyborgs #but the existing political identity #a lot of people with hearing aids or prosthetic limbs consider themselves 'cyborgs' which is very cool #it would have been neat to have alice serve as a bridge between human and android identity in the narrative #alas david needed his twisties. surprise shes explicitly an android!!!! okay dude that doesnt mean anything #also with all the android revolution scaremongering it would have been like #a fun news article to stumble upon #THEYRE GOING TO EAT US ALIVE: ILLEGALLY MODDED CANNIBAL ANDROID CHILDREN

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izartn · 3 months

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What's good about KnH is (besides its main char and bc of Maomao) the way it manages the power dynamics and what life was as a woman without falling into utter pessimism and powerlessness or full romanticism; which is a reason I usually avoid like the plague historical/pseudo-historical fiction with female leads.

Usually I'd be super skeeved out by the power Jinshi has over Maomao but the way the series presents both of them, their personalities and their agency (limited as it is for Maomao but it's there and it counts very much) it brings out all the best and interesting parts. I trust this series to get twisty with them bc it establishes so well Maomao own character and understanding of her situation and the ways Jinshi can and does or doesn't take advantage of his power over her.

Like. It's presented as a problematic element, but also unavoidable given their social situation and the world they live in, so I can trust given everything else this show has done when solving the mysteries and presenting us the situations of other women, that the romance will be treated with that same weight.

Honestly if you've read over what I like to read/watch in my tumblr you'll notice that twisty and even toxic/unhealthy dynamics are very much within my favorites, but it needs to be told in a certain way. And I'm much more difficult to satisfy when talking about het romance.

So to watch KnH, notice it's primarily about Maomao life and the various misteries/medicines/palace intrigue and the romance is playing second fiddle riffing on all the themes presented on the plot? And it's complex, and plays with messy power dynamics of gender and class, but never loses Maomao her personhood? Wow.

Also. Jinshi is so BL chara coded omg XD like, he's very clearly based on a kind of shojo ML prototype (hello tamaki suoh!) but it also pulls from BL in his case (nothing to do with their romances but I think of Yan Xiaohan re:his relationship with the imperial power, from Golden Terrace lol)

And yet his romance with Maomao wouldnt work near as well for what is trying to say if they weren't a man and woman (which I love in their case, is what has me fascinated). Yes~! Get into the meat of how fraught it is for a man and a woman to be together when the man has so much power over her. Get into it!!!!

He's so so messy and fun as a chara too. Sheltered and not at the same time, you really notice all the things he misses by way of his privilege of being a noble born man (and specifically royalty, last ep (19) left that very clear he was doing a ritual probably by proxy for the emperor and also bay exchanges people. Maomao noticed and buried that thought far far below her subconscious but we all now who he is lol). Like. The way he fumbles and ends up essentially harassing Maomao at the start sometimes, which is both played for comedic effect and also upsetting. Mmm.

Like I said, I like complexity.

Also that part when he buys Maomao contract and he goes to collect her and she's all dolled up, and the clear implication by everybody but our mains (who clearly prefer to live in willfully blind land although for Jinshi I think the subtext of what he's doing lands when he sees her) is that in any other case she'd be his concubine/side-wife. It's not their situation wight now, and she's put to work as a live-in maid and apothecary and put to study (he wants her to assist him in politics lol I love that, but also he's so so lonely) but it's very much what the palace rumor mill says.

LIKE. I love the messiness! It could go soooo badly, but it also could not and there's Maomao living at the edge bc despite herself and what she says, she wants more from life, but also as she says the rear palace isn't all that different from the high class brothels and ugh. That tension. She has to depend on the favor of a man as a women of low class but she also could lose her head! GAH. And then there's feels involved! Aaagh.

#the apothecary diaries #my thoughts #kusuriya no hitorigoto #KnH meta #meta #maomao #jinshi

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bones-of-a-rabbit · 5 months

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My friend @rainbowcat-writing hit me with the absolute best au idea the other day. The concept? Sun and Moon as Big Magical Lion(-Shapeshifting-Centaur) Creatures that r in love with Y/N, a conservation manager, and absolutely will not stop being big lovey dovey baby meow meows abt it

To copy and paste a good summary from the discord convos last night:

reader works on a conservation team set up in the field, finds Moon wounded, patches him up, keeps coming back to check on him, meets Sun, sun n moon get attached, guess what th two really big scarily smart lions are actually lion,, centaur. creatures and theyve understood everything youve said also they keep calling you their mate and ur pretty sure theyre flirting with u but its “””hard to tell”””

sun and moon: our mate :3 tiny human mate. we will make such a good pride with u, who is our mate.

reader: hmmmmm. i think maybe, just maybe,,,,,, they might be exhibiting some courtship behaviors. but i cant be sure if they are or for what reason,, its a mystery

(Vanessa is the security team lead and connects the dots after watching the Strangely Intelligent And Very Big Lions that have been lurking around camp for several weeks leaving ‘gifts’ (pretty flowers, dead animals, one time a twisty-shaped tree branch only bc it looked like something a human would find interesting) one day straight up just grab reader by the back of their shirt and drag them off all while Reader is shouting that they’re fine and it’s not a big deal you’ll be back in like two hours tops and she’s just like “alright yknow what? fuck it. whatever. I don’t even care anymore. so long as they don’t eat the moron they can just go nuts about it” as she pours liquor into her fifth coffee of the day)

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orchidyoonkook · 1 year

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Under The Willow Tree | MYG

Title: Under The Willow Tree

Pairing: Bad Boy!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (T) | One Shot, Small Town AU, S2F2L, Implied Age Gap, Slow Burn, Angst, Touch of Fluff, Darker Subject Matter, First Kiss, Silce of Life

Summary: The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?

Warnings: PG16, some not necessarily positive non-specific religious discussions, people using religion in a negative may, plot twisty, cursing, kissing, semi-apparent abandonment issues, discussions of dead parents and guardians, mentions of alcoholism in a parent, mentions of illness in a parent, yoongi has tattoos and a motorcycle, motorcycle lessons, longing, mishandled emotions, catharsis.

Word Count: 7401

Release Date: April 10, 2023, 4:05PM

A/N 1: This happened due to a writing prompts post I shared sometime in late march. I’m quite proud of it considering I hadn’t planned anything so the entire story was written as I was writing. Very different than my normal writing process.

A/N 2: Thank you endlessly to @borahae-k, @katykatmeow, @here4btsfics and @phthartic-fox for beta’ing this. I love you all for your help, support and kindness.

It happened under a willow tree. A weeping willow.

Your favourite willow, to be specific. Even though there’s just the one.

It’s by the pond deep in the woods behind your house, where you watch ducks swim through the long, wispy branches that just reach its shore. Where you sit at the base, waiting for the sun to set the sky ablaze with colour as it falls into the horizon for another good night's sleep.

The one under which you had your first kiss.

You’d been waiting. Wanting it to be special, with the right person.

But a brief brush of soft, pink lips with the last person you ever expected had you wanting more, more, more.

It’d been a few months since he started coming to the willow. You’d assumed for the same reason you did.

To get away. From anyone and everything.

There aren’t many places in your hometown that allow for privacy, and you imagined he needed it more than anyone. Somewhere far from the residents' judgmental stares that were always nothing less than smothering.

Hailing from a very small, very rural, religious town where everybody’s known everyone for generations, your community is one where you follow in the footsteps of your parents and grandparents before them.

Where your life is already decided for you at birth, whether you know it or not.

Copy. Paste.

Copy.

Paste.

You’re born there; either at home with a midwife or in the one floor hospital down the main road. Raised there; a hand-me-down wearing, bike riding, creek-playing child.

You go to school there; stuck inside the same four walls from the ages of 4 to 18. Get your driver's licence there; from the sheriff after a road test that a 9 year old could pass.

You graduate there; from the same high school your friends, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents went to. Get a job; in town or on a farm, the only two options there are.

And marry there; before 25, lest you become a spinster, subject to the gossip vultures also known as your neighbours. Then have some kids before growing old and dying, your permanent resting place dug in the same graveyard as everyone else that came before you.

Copy.

Paste.

It’s a suffocating fate that petrified you to your core. And you’ve known you didn’t want it for as long as you can remember.

You never liked their rules. Didn’t want to become one of them, to do as they do, live the way they live.

You’d skillfully escaped making any true friends as you grew older, but kept the people you could tolerate close enough to not be bored on weekends. They’re all temporary placeholders in your life anyway, people who sound like robots stuck in the same settings. People who would hold you back.

What’s worst of all is that you don’t share the religion they claim to be so hallowed and wonderful. The one that’s unwittingly forced them all into this life of monotonous repetition.

You dream of more. Of life outside this dreaded purgatory.

Of leaving.

But no one ever leaves. They’re stuck here, in this downwards spiral of life you’re so desperately trying to dig yourself out of. It makes you feel like a fraud, constantly pretending to be one of them. Always wearing a mask just to make it to the next day alive, unharmed by them and their values.

It makes you feel like there’s always a pair of eyes watching, waiting for you to mess up and reveal your blasphemous self.

You’re terrified they’ll discover the truth. Terrified of the ostracisation that will come the second they know you aren’t one of them.

You’ve seen it in real time. What they do to people who don’t conform.

Seen how they treat him.

Two years older. Bleach blond hair and a sleeve full of tattoos. A leather jacket he wears like armour with all black clothes to match. And last, but certainly not least, a motorcycle.

You daydreamed about that bike. Taking it and riding far, far away.

The busybodied people of your town never had a kind word to be said about him. Instead, choosing to call him any and every horrible name under the sun.

Beast, bastard, demon, monster, criminal.

Unable to understand him, understand anyone different.

They herd their children away from him in the streets; parting like the Red Sea when he walks by.

As if he were acid.

As if he was evil itself, and not just a young man.

You’ve never even heard him speak because no one dares to talk to him, worried any contact could turn them, seduce them into whatever his sick ways were.

And you’re ashamed to admit you’re one of them…sort of.

You aren’t worried about speaking to him, you’re worried about what being seen speaking with him will do to you.

You’re someone whose only salvation from complete and total social isolation relies on fitting in.

And even if it kills you to pretend, you only need to do it for a little while longer.

You just had to make it to college. You’d be the first one in decades to go. Their mindset of ‘you have everything you need here so why bother leaving’ having not once in your life resonated.

You can deal with them and all of their beliefs about what you should do with your life for the short hours of school and occasional shifts at the diner, so long as you can escape to your willow tree, you’ll be okay.

The weeping willow in the middle of the forest behind your house is the only one in the area. You never understood why that is, but it’s your oasis away from everything you hate.

The tips of its branches sway rhythmically in the wind, and moss creeps up its trunk. It’s surrounded by dense, plush grass for you to sit on, and after all the years of sitting in the same spot, a little groove in the shape of your body has formed at its base.

Its canopy protects you from the outside world, creating a space where you don't have to hide. Where you can proudly be yourself without fear. Where you spend as much of your time as you possibly can to keep your sanity intact.

No one bothers you here.

Your mum died years ago from an illness they never diagnosed, her plot in the town’s graveyard long since filled.

And your dad never notices you gone, too drunk in your house up on the hill to care.

So as long as there’s a constant supply of food on the counter and beer in the fridge, you’re free to do as you please.

Under the willow you do your homework and sketch. You take pictures and eat breakfasts and lunches and dinners. You listen to music and dance under the safety of its shade.

Under the willow you read great adventure novels, and dream you’re the protagonists whisked away on grand adventures. Anywhere but here.

Under the willow is your home away from home. Next to the pond, under the stars.

So it’s to your great surprise when an unexpected guest pries open the curtain of flowing foliage one spring afternoon. A bleached blond, leather jacket wearing, motorcycle riding, guest.

You don’t see him at first, too focused on the sketchpad in front of you. He steps in, and watches you work quietly, waiting for you to notice him.

You fascinate him. Every other girl in town can be found at one of three places, yet you were never at any of them. Not at the restaurant sipping on a milkshake. Not at the library studying. And not at the church volunteering.

You’re always elsewhere.

And he’s finally figured out where that is.

He was nervous at first. To follow you. You’d never spoken but that wasn’t anything new to him. No one in this town ever did.

Not to him.

But you don’t look down at him like the others do. Or jump out of the way when he walks by. You don’t tear away from his gaze as fast as the others. You hold on, even if for just a second longer.

Unknowingly, you’ve captivated him more than anyone else he’s ever met.

So he followed you to see where you vanish off to, not expecting you to go into the forest behind your house.

For a half second he considered you dangerous, because what on earth could you be getting up to in a forest for hours? But as he trailed the sounds of your footsteps and saw the small clearing with the tree, it began to make sense.

After jumping ten feet from seeing something tall and dark in your periphery, you exhale a large breath when you realise you aren’t in any danger, and shake out the nerves.

You’d normally worry he was there to hurt you, but something in you knew he never would. Never could. Maybe it was the look he gave as he regarded you.

Soft. Wistful even.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, wary. The first words you’ve ever spoken to him.

Barely contained inside the limits of the willows perimeter, he shrugs, and takes a long look around your little sanctuary.

And as he does, you get your first real look at him.

He’s handsome. Stoically so. And for only a moment do you wonder about all the stories hidden behind his eyes.

The ones now focused on you.

“Wanted to see where you disappear to. You’re never in town.”

So what if you were never in town? Why did he care? Wait—How did he know? Does he pay attention to you?

…Why you?

You didn’t think he cared to notice anyone in this town, let alone you enough to know you don’t follow the social expectations of someone your age.

To pick up on the fact that you’re never there at all.

It makes a million things run through your mind—Why does he care about where you go? What about you is so special? Does he even know your name?—before one resounding thought hits you like a ton of bricks.

Can you trust him?

No one else in this town does, but all of their reasons are superficial bullshit.

All you know is you don’t know the first thing about him, and that now he knows about the one place you feel safe.

“That’s intentional,” you say, cautious. Not giving away anything but not saying much either.

“Can’t blame you,” he responds, before checking out the rooftop of bright green and muttering, “Eyes and ears everywhere.”

Those four words alone are all you need.

He gets it.

“Yeah.”

Maybe you can trust him.

Observing each other for a silent minute, there seems to be an unspoken understanding forming between the two of you.

And he shoves his hands in his pockets, asking, “Mind company?”

You think about it for only a second.

No. No you didn’t.

“As long as you’re quiet. I’m trying to focus,” pointing the eraser end of your pencil to the sketchpad on your lap. “The cattail leaves are the hardest to get the lines right.”

He nods, finally breaking free of his position at the branch's edge. Nearing the base of the tree, he crouches down, about a quarter of the trunk's diameter away from you. It’s close enough to still see each other, but far enough to not bump into one another.

And before nestling in fully, he extends a tattooed hand to you.

“Yoongi.”

An introduction.

“Y/N,” you return, putting your pencil down in the crease of your pad and shaking.

His hand is calloused, the ones you get from years of working with your hands. And strong, a firm grip. The kind you’d want to pull you up if you were dangling over a cliff.

So many stories contained in a 3 second touch. Yet you find yourself wanting to know all of them.

Releasing, he settles in.

What surprises you most about the whole encounter isn’t his arrival, or speaking to him for the first time, or even the handshake.

It’s that when he’s comfortable, with one leg up for an elbow to rest upon, he digs a book out from the confines of his jacket.

Jules Verne, The Mysterious Island.

Your favourite.

Spring fades into a wonderful summer of late nights and early mornings. Of beautiful blue skies and vivid sunsets you appreciate a little more now that you have someone to share them with.

Yoongi comes almost, if not, every day to the willow. Always a different book in hand. Always one of the classics.

The Iliad, 1984, Jane Eyre, Moby Dick, Anna Karina, Dracula, Little Women, Frankenstein, Catcher in the Rye, and those are just the ones you can remember because you’ve read them too. Some of them more than once.

You never expected to have anything in common with the boy that sits next to you. But from the little you’ve spoken to one another over the months, you’ve found that you share so much more than just reading habits.

On a warm April afternoon he told you he reads because he loves it but also to escape the daily hell that is your town.

“Mmm, what’s your favourite?” you’d asked.

Yoongi was lying down with an arm behind his head, staring into the treetop. Brave New World sat opened and facedown on his chest, his hand resting atop it.

“Pride and Prejudice.”

That was the last answer you expected.

“Why?”

He lifts his head to look at you.

“I thought the answer would’ve been obvious.”

After a cold drink on a hot June morning he told you his dreams of moving across the country. As far away as he could get.

“Just have to save up enough money first.”

You wondered how he made any. He definitely didn’t work anywhere in town…maybe waiting to inherit?

Who knew?

Both on a blanket you’d brought, Yoongi’s lying opposite and beside you, his feet by your hips. He used his balled up jacket as a pillow while you sat in your usual spot, capturing the way the branches swayed in your sketchpad.

He’d taken to reading to you while you drew, including you in the grand stories he now knew you loved to read too.

That day he had The Great Gatsby, a story you’d read about 20 times.

You often dreamed of attending one of his parties. Of seeing the green light across the way, or having a conversation with Nick, why he stayed.

“Are you anywhere close?” you asked, in reference to his saving goals.

“Getting there,” was all he gave.

And on a miserable, rainy night in the middle of August, is when you learned he’s all on his own.

Sitting beside each other, you both huddled underneath his jacket for what little protection from the rain it could give. Water droplets fell from the tips of his bangs as he spoke.

“My parents died in a car crash when I was 9, and then my grandma who took care of me, when I was 15.”

You grieved for him as he told you his story.

How he had to raise himself.

Just like you did.

“I’m sorry,” you’d replied gently. Softly. Knowing how it felt to have no one support you. No one to help you.

Knowing how it felt to be alone.

You understood.

You did, you did, you did.

Yoongi just stared at the ground, unable to meet your eyes. And you’d wondered if any of the water on his face was salty as he breathed out a quiet and heartbreaking, “Thank you.”

It made you question how many kind words he’d heard since his family passed.

And also incredibly pissed off at the people in your town for how they’d treated him.

How you’d…treated him.

A silent promise was made then and there. Never having felt more embarrassed and furious with yourself than in that moment. You’d learned your lesson, and hoped that offering up your own piece of vulnerability might help him feel not so alone.

Though you watched the rain turn the pond into a canvas of vibration as you did. Words dragged from the deepest parts of your soul, burning the back of your throat as they left.

“My dad hasn’t been sober a day since my mom died. His eyes are turning yellow,” you said, hugging yourself to stop shaking, convinced yourself it was because of the cold.

Even though it was August.

“He doesn’t recognize me most of the time.”

You closed your eyes, a familiar tang washing over your tongue as you licked the water dripping from your lips. He gave no response, but an arm found its way over your shoulders and squeezed.

He understood.

It’s the beginning of September. The air’s started to nip at your cheeks, and the ground crunches a little more everyday with all of the leaves falling underfoot.

The tips of the willows leaves have begun to turn the colour of the morning sun, and by the time mid October rolls around, it’ll look like golden hour every hour of the day.

Yoongi finally tells you about the job he has at a mechanic's in the next town over. He explains how they don’t pay him nearly what they should, but he doesn’t complain because every cent brings him closer to leaving.

Just him and his bike.

You turn sheepish.

“Can I tell you something?”

He sits closer after all this time, more comfortable around one another. Still not enough to touch, not crossing that invisible boundary line, but enough that you don’t have to turn your head much anymore to see his eyes.

Brown and endless.

“Yeah, sure.”

You take a deep breath.

“I kind of always dreamed of taking your bike to get away from here and never come back.” He gives you a look and you shrug. “Seemed the easiest route to take.”

A smile that starts as a smirk turns into a healthy laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You demand. He has to calm himself down a bit before answering.

“You just uhm…don’t seem the criminal type to me, Cattails.”

There’s a flutter of something in your chest at the stupid nickname. For the drawing you did the day you met.

He continues, unaware of the goings on inside you. “Stealing? You? Nah. Not a chance.”

You open your mouth in mock outrage, scrunching your brow and bringing a hand to your chest.

“I’ll have you know I’d make an excellent criminal,” you lie to his face. He knows it too.

But giving in, you detail the plan you’d always kept in your head for emergencies, heat slowly rising in your cheeks with every word.

“I’d take the key from you when you weren’t looking, duplicate it at the hardware store, and slip it back into your pocket before you ever noticed it was gone. Then go to your place in the middle of the night and be halfway across the country before morning.”

“Oh yeah?” he says with a raised brow you don’t trust.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a little too much faux confidence.

“And where do I keep my key, Y/N? Hmm?”

“Your jacket pocket,” you’d deduced long ago.

“Mmm,” he tsks with a shake of his head. “Nope.”

Oh. Well then it must be,

“Your pants pocket?”

“Nuh uh, try again.”

Damnit!

You’d never thought much about it. How many places can someone keep a key on them without a bag and it not be in their pockets?

“Ummm, in your wallet?” Far-fetched but worth a shot.

“Ooo,” he blows through pursed lips before smirking at you again, but this one was different. It caused something very deep inside of you to turn to lava. “Good guess, but also no.”

Closing his book and setting it down, Yoongi straightens and reaches inside the collar of his shirt, retrieving a necklace you didn’t know he wore.

It’s small, the key, and almost silver. The colouring is tarnished from years of use, with worn teeth and some lettering at its base.

He holds it against a palm to show you.

“Why there?” You ask, wondering if there’s a reason aside from convenience.

With a sad tug of his lips, he answers. “Bike was my dads. I like to keep him close.”

A tender smile meets your own plush as you stare at the little key, appreciating it more after learning the importance it has to him.

And Yoongi watches you, viewing his ticket to freedom with the biggest eyes he’s ever seen, full of that same compassion and understanding you’ve always given him.

An understanding he didn’t think he’d ever see again from this place.

One he doesn’t know if he deserves.

Before you can respond, he’s taking the chain off and sliding it over your head, hand lingering for a second longer than necessary at your nape.

“Yoongi,” you hesitate.

It’s the first time you’ve said his name out loud.

You like the way it feels on your tongue. Warm, sweet. Like honey.

What you don’t know is he loves the way it sounds coming from you.

You falter. “W-what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“But it’s your key! Don’t you need it?”

“Nah, got a spare in the storage compartment of the bike,” he says, gesturing to the one you now hold in your palms. “This way you won’t have to go through the hassle of stealing it.”

“But I—”

“Keep it,” he cuts you off. “In case you need it more than I do.”

It never leaves your neck.

“You want me to what?” You ask as you walk towards the forest edge, Yoongi trailing on your left.

“Take her out for a spin. See if you even can. You’re the one who has all these grand plans but doesn’t even know how to turn it on,” he explains, referring to his motorcycle.

“Those were just daydreamed plans! I never thought I’d actually use them! What if I crash?”

He was kidding right? He must be.

For all the time you two have spent together, you’ve never spoken or been around one another in public. An unspoken agreement.

What happens under the willow tree, stays under the willow tree.

So to be out in the open? On his bike? You don’t know if you can. Or if you should.

But then you remember a promise you made not long ago.

“You won’t crash,” he says, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“How do you know? Like you said, I don’t even know how to turn it on,” you hmph.

“Because I’ll be there.”

And maybe it’s the tone of voice he uses, or the fact that you trust him, you find yourself saying,

“Okay, fine.”

Minutes later you’re swinging a leg over the bike, and sinking on to the surprisingly comfortable seat.

“Where do I put the key?” You ask, taking it from your neck and handing it over.

Yoongi puts it in the side of the motorcycle, somewhere close to your knee.

“Here,” he shows as he turns it to the ‘ON’ position.

“Oh.”

What a weird place for an ignition.

“Mhm,” he acknowledges, then points. “Put your hand on the brake, it’s the part that sticks out on the right hand side. Hold it firmly against the handlebar. Don’t roll the handle bar itself back though, okay? That’s the throttle.”

Doing what he says, you hold the brake tight against the handle bar, murmuring an ‘okay’ under your breath.

“Now hit that button there on the right to let the fuel pump start up,” referring to the button beside the brake near your thumb. You do so.

He checks a little gauge on the side near the ignition. Seemingly pleased, he continues. “And now hit the button on the left to start it.”

Following his words once again, the engine roars to life the second the button is pressed, purring powerfully.

You feel exhilarated and a little terrified. But he’s here. You know you’re safe.

Voice a little louder to combat the noise from the motor, he says, “Okay, now on the left handle bar, grab the clutch. I’ll show you how to move into first gear, and look at me,” your eyes meet his, “do not let go of the clutch.”

You nod, but for extra precaution, he clamps his hand over the one you have holding it. You watch as he bends to put your left foot on a pedal and presses it down till you hear a pop, pushing up the kickstand when he rises.

The bike is heavy, now that you’re the only thing keeping it up right, you can feel its weight. And you understand why they’re designed to be able to have your feet on the ground even when sitting. You’d probably fall over otherwise.

“If you’re uncomfortable you let me know, yeah? And if you get scared just do what you’re doing now with this hand,” he squeezes for emphasis, “it’ll take all the power away from the engine and you’ll just coast until you stop, okay?”

“Okay!” You say, more excited by the minute. Your toes and fingertips are starting to tingle.

“I‘m gonna let go and you’re going to very, very slowly let up on the clutch—not all the way. Just enough that you move at about a pedal bike's pace. Let me jog down the road about 50 feet or so, and then you meet me there. Hold tight to the clutch again when you’re about 20 feet from me and I’ll catch you. Sound good?”

Nodding one more time in confirmation, nerves crawl all over your skin. You can’t describe the new feeling fully, but the closest you can find to it is probably the beginnings of an adrenaline rush.

You watch as Yoongi jogs down the road, throws his hands up over his head, and gives you two big thumbs up.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly release some pressure off the clutch and begin to move forwards. You know your feet are supposed to go on the metal foot rests below you, but you're so focused on not falling or crashing that you just stick them out so they don’t touch the ground.

Halting your left hands release at the speed he said to, you cruise along, wind picking up with your increased pace.

Holy shit!

You’re riding a motorcycle!

You never thought you could, it was just a dream for so long. Something you kept in the back of your mind just for fun, but now you’re actually doing it! Your driving down the road on an actual real life motorcycle!? All by yourself!?

Turns out all you needed was a little encouragement and someone you trust to spot you.

Aiming for Yoongi, you clamp down on the clutch once again, cutting power to the engine. You drift right into his awaiting hands braced for the impact, and he slides a little on the gravel road before getting you to a full stop.

He presses one of the buttons you did earlier and the bike shuts down, allowing you to jump off.

You’re positively giddy.

“Oh my god did you see me?! I just did that! I just drove a motorcycle! Can you believe it?! I can’t believe I just did that!” You don’t even register what you're saying, too full of excitement to care.

Yoongi can’t contain his grin as he gets the bike standing on its own. Your joy is too infectious not to take part in, and he walks over for a high five to celebrate.

But to his surprise, you bypass his hand completely and embrace him, throwing your arms around his neck.

It takes only a second before he’s enveloping you with his own, not letting the chance to hold you go by.

“Thank you!” You say, before letting go, not even realising what you did. You’re too busy catching your breath from all the rambling and jumping around, still filled with the remnants of your elation.

Meanwhile, Yoongi can’t get the feeling of your body against him out of his head. How soft you were. How warm. The way you smelled like a mixture of your natural scent and outside.

And he’s asking, “You wanna to go for a ride?” before he can tell himself not too.

The question makes you pause. Was he serious? Because you can’t think of anything you want more.

Staring at him, your answer is far too gentle for someone who was just screeching with joy.

“Really?”

He nods, still untrusting of his mouth, confirming with a ‘mhm.’

You don’t hesitate. You want to feel like that again.

Not a minute later he’s giving you the helmet and securing it tightly. He also makes you wear his leather jacket to protect your torso, leaving him in just an oversized black t-shirt and dark ripped jeans.

Swinging a leg over, he pats the seat behind him.

And you’re glad to have the helmet on because without it he would most definitely see your inability to meet his eye. You can barely focus on anything aside from the sight in front of you and being wrapped in the scent of him. But then he gives a tattooed hand to help you hop on, and says,

“You have to put your arms around me and hold on. Otherwise you might fly off the back when we accelerate,” holding his hands behind him to guide yours.

What? You didn’t think this far. He—you have t—Ummm, well...

“Okay,” you answer, voice small, letting your hands be guided.

Despite the loss of his jacket, he’s still deliciously warm, and the heat in your cheeks increases tenfold with your hands now splayed over his abdomen.

Lightly defined muscles meet your fingertips through the thin material of his shirt and you do your best to memorize them as he turns on the bike and pulls away from the curb.

He starts slower than normal to make sure you’re alright, but when you give him the thumbs up, he speeds up to just over the limit and you hold tight.

You’ve never felt so free, loving the rush of wind that flows over your body from going so fast. It’s pushing a welcomed cold through the fabric of your clothes as your body temperature has only increased since getting on.

You could go anywhere, do anything. Nothing and nobody could stop you.

You want that. You want it so bad. And he gave you the key to be able to.

Literally.

But now when you think about leaving, you think about leaving with him. Yoongi driving and you sitting right here on the back, nothing but each other, the road, and hope for the future.

Growing confident enough to release your grasp after a few minutes, you raise your hands in the air, and let the wind catch your fingertips. A whoop of joy leaves you at this newfound feeling he’s given you.

Then another, and another, before returning them to their place around him.

Yoongi can’t help but smile the biggest he has in years when hearing your squeals of glee.

Because for the first time in a long time, he feels it too.

Yoongi doesn’t come to the willow for almost a week.

He’s never done that since he started coming. Not once.

And you’re worried.

Where is he? Is he okay? You have no idea.

It’s not like you can go looking for him.

And you two aren’t anything anyway, so you shouldn’t even be this worried in the first place. If he’s safe, or in the bottom of a ditch somewhere.

But you can’t help it.

Just like you can’t help the feelings that have blossomed for him over the months. The feelings you didn’t want to admit to yourself for fear of him not returning them.

Yet there they were, and there isn’t anything you can do about them now.

They make you wonder if you’ll ever see him again.

Six days.

It takes him six days to return. Stomping in, and visibly pissed off.

“What’s wrong?” You ask once he’s close enough to hear.

“I’m leaving,” he says flatly, uncaring. Like you asked him what colour the sky was.

And your stupid, silly little unrequited heart shatters.

“What?”

“I’m leaving. Taking off. Getting out of here. I can’t do it anymore.”

Piece by piece it falls from your chest and into the depths of your stomach.

“B-but why? What happened?”

“I got fired.”

“Fired?”

“Yeah, fired. I tried all week to fix this one stupid mistake I made,” he explains, smoothing over his creased brow with two fingers. “But it cost more to fix than to keep me around, so they fired me. I don’t have the amount of cash I planned for, but I have enough to make it work. And I can pick up odd jobs on the road if I need to.” He nears, extending a tattooed hand. “I just came to get my key and say goodbye.”

Your hand reaches for it, clutching it tightly. You don’t want to give it back.

Who the hell is this? Because you barely recognize him. It certainly isn’t the Yoongi you’ve come to know.

The wonderfully kind, classics reading, dream-sharing, motorcycle instructing, freedom key giving man.

The one who told you about his grandmother, and his parents. Who read you stories while you drew and ate meals together. Who taught you how to ride his motorcycle.

The Yoongi you fell for.

Your Yoongi.

The person currently standing in front of you isn’t him at all.

He’s the hard, cold exterior, crafted over years of verbal and societal abuse. The one everyone avoids at all costs when walking through town. The person he had to become in order to survive.

You don’t know this person.

And you hate it.

You hate it so much it decides to exit your body in the form of tears. Ones of sadness, frustration, and heartbreak.

He’s—he’s leaving.

Actually leaving.

This place, it’s people.

You...

The few remaining pieces of your heart plunge to the floor, crumbling to dust as they hit. Nothing but a hollow, empty cavern remaining where it once sat.

“But I–you…,” the lump in your throat only getting bigger when you try to speak. You face away from him.

Don’t let him see you cry.

He’s clearly never felt anything close to what you do for him, so suck it up. Reign it in. You do it everyday. So why can’t you do it now?

You don’t get to feel this way!

Shove it back down, get it down!. Crush it all until it’s nothing.

Make it go away. Far, far away.

Yoongi’s face is falling while you’re taking deep breaths to calm down.

In all of his rage and despair at his terrible week, he’s forgotten who he was speaking to.

His kind hearted, music-sharing, been through hell and back, kickass girl. The one he can call his only true friend.

He’s such an asshole. He hadn’t seen you for almost a week, which killed him in of itself. And then the second he does, all he‘s able to do is spew the frustration and misery he’s been feeling the entire time you were apart.

Nah, he’s worse than an asshole.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha—”

But he freezes at the sound of a small, wet inhale.

You’re crying.

He made you cry.

And a regret bigger than the ocean drowns him.

“Hey, wait, please,” he says, rushing over, but you hold out a hand to stop him. “Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He reaches for you again, and again you stop him. You can’t let him comfort you.

Not when he doesn’t realise he’s become the only person in this whole godforsaken, judgemental hellhole of a neighbourhood wasteland you have.

Your grandparents are dead, along with your mum. Your dad’s an abusive drunk, too far gone to remember he has a daughter. You don’t have any aunts or uncles or cousins to rely on, nor do you have any real friends.

You have no one, aside from Yoongi.

And now you won’t even have him.

So you can’t let him comfort you. Can’t let him see you break.

You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

Because you don’t know if you’ll be able to put yourself back together without him if you do.

But a quiet, “Y/N, please,” imbued with pain you haven’t heard since a rainy August night leaves his lips. A last ditch effort to get you to look at him, to let him help.

And it breaks you completely, bursting into a million tiny pieces to match your heart on the floor.

An unrestrained sob falls from your mouth, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. Yours go to his neck as he drags you onto his lap, gripping tight.

He holds you through every whimper and hiccup and stuttered inhale and shudder. Through every muttered ‘please don’t go’ and ‘please don’t leave me,’ that escapes, stroking a hand along the back of your head and down your spine, soothing.

He whispers, “it’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay,” on repeat with the motion. Over and over and over until only occasional sniffles and deep breaths remain.

You hug him tighter as you start to shiver, the warmth created from your breakdown beginning to wear off. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to slide off his jacket and throw it over your shoulders. An instant cocoon of warm and comfort.

When his hands find their place back around your waist, he dares to speak.

“I got you.”

“I know.” And you do. Your voice is a little wobbly, as you’re unmoving from the embrace, but you most definitely do.

This is your Yoongi. The one you’ve come to know. To trust.

Of course he’s got you.

You use one of your long sleeves to dry your eyes and under your nose. With the nearing autumn weather, you’ve returned to occasionally wearing them.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe into his neck after a long beat of silence.

“What could you possibly be sorry for, Cattails?”

The return of your nickname has a grin threatening to emerge.

“For freaking out. I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

“Don’t be,” he says firmly. “I sprung that on you in such a shit way because I was in an even shittier mood. And you clearly weren’t prepared to hear it. I should’ve known better, so don’t you dare be sorry about anything,” he loosens his hold to pull back and look at you. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

You look down, hiding, not wanting him to see you like this.

“None of that,” he whispers, and brings a finger to your chin, tilting up.

It doesn’t meet much resistance.

Your eyes are still a bit swollen and patchy, but it’s the concern in his that makes you crack the smallest of smiles, if only to see his worry erased.

He already has enough on his plate. No need to add to it.

Not able to offer much more than a quirk of the lip, you’re relieved that it’s enough when he starts to wear one of his own.

It’s then you realise your position. Like the sight of it cleared your brain fog.

You’re kneeling over his lap, sitting on his thighs, face inches from his. One of his hands is holding your chin up while the other rests low on your waist, your own still loose around him.

So close, yet so far away.

Because he’s leaving.

And that thought alone allows you to throw caution to the goddamn window. It’s not going to matter once he’s gone, and you’ve wanted it to be with someone special.

He’s as special as they come.

Leaning forward, you close your eyes and the gap between the two of you.

Eyelids fluttering as your lips brush his. Soft, and gentle.

Like him.

You hold only long enough to make sure it counts before pulling back.

It’s funny, really.

It was just a few seconds, but you already find yourself wanting so much more with him. An unfamiliar but welcomed electric pulse finds itself running through your blood at the thought, and it makes you want his lips everywhere.

Your mouth, your jaw, your neck.

Anywhere he can reach.

Sparks pool inside you. Sparks and butterflies and fast flowing lava.

You let yourself relish in the glorious feeling for a single moment, before the reality of what you just did sinks in.

And then you’re scared.

Terrified, actually.

To open your eyes, see his face. His reaction.

What if he hated it? What if he’s never felt anything but platonic affection towards you and now you’ve gone and done this?

Sure, he’s leaving. But now that you think about it, does him leaving mean you’ll never see him again?

What if you just ruined everything?

Teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip, you take a peek.

For the second time today you feel your heart breaking, this time at the look on his face.

Is it shock? Or worse.

Disgust?

Doesn’t matter.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. Not knowing what else to say.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, trying to get out of his hold, but he keeps you there. Unyielding. And you start rambling. “I shouldn’t have done that. You clearly don’t—It’s just that you’re leaving and I—“

Lips on yours shut you up.

It’s fervent and needy and passionate as he pulls you closer by the hips, desperately trying to get you as close to him as physically possible. Your nails drag over his scalp as your fingers snake through his blond locks. They elicit a delicious groan from his mouth that you consume with your own.

It’s the most intoxicating sound you’ve ever heard, and you want more of it. So you do it again, and again, and again.

He moves down your jaw and neck, sucking at the tender flesh near your pulse point, and your mouth drops open at the feeling.

You’ve always wondered, but…you didn’t know it could feel like this.

Every touch, every whisper, every press of his lips to yours feels amazing. He’s pulling pleasure out of places you wouldn’t have thought possible before him. And you never want to go back to not knowing.

The sweetest of whimpers leaves your mouth as he gently bites a soft spot, then soothing the glorious pain he created with the kindness of his tongue.

Yoongi swears to any god who will listen that he’ll do whatever they want so long as he gets to hear that sound repeatedly and for the rest of his life.

He returns to your lips and says, “come with me.”

You’re so focused on feeling that it takes a moment for his words to land. “What?”

“Leave with me. Let’s get the fuck outta here, and never look back, the both of us. Together.”

Yoongi looks so serious but..

He—he can’t be serious can he? 15 minutes ago he was going on and on about leaving and needing his key back and saying goodbye.

And now?

Sensing your hesitance, he punctuates each of the next three words with a kiss.

“Come. With. Me.”

It makes your answer arrive without really thinking. You don’t need to think. Not when you know deep in your newly reconstructed heart that it’ll always be the same whether you think about it or not.

So long as you’re with him, you know you’ll be,

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He questions like he can’t believe it. Can’t believe you'd agree.

You make sure there isn’t a single doubt in his head as you look him dead in the eyes and confirm.

“Yes, Yoongi,” another kiss. “I’ll go with you.”

He pulls you into him for what feels like a million more under your shared willow tree.

Your salvation.

And you know they’re going to be the firsts of many, many more to come.

Three days later, and two bags packed full of all your earthly possessions, you’re on the back of Yoongi’s motorcycle.

In those three days he’s prepared everything else you’ll need. He’s gotten a cute leather jacket and helmet for you, some reading materials for the road, snacks, drinks. A place by his side for the foreseeable future.

In the same span of time, you’ve given him a home in your heart, someone he can rely on other than himself. Talk to, trust, experience life with.

Something he hasn’t had in nearly ten years.

Something he never wants to lose again.

He swings a leg over and you unclip the chain from your neck, handing him the key to the bike, to your now shared future.

Driving out of town—straight down Main Street—you watch as all the people you grew up with, who you almost destroyed yourself to fit in with, gawk.

Watch as they judge you for being with him, your best friend. For leaving, and not doing what they all expected of you.

For not being like one of them.

Because you’re not one of them.

You never have been.

And just like the dust that flies behind the wheels, you feel weightless, not giving a single fuck what they think for the first time in your life.

You don’t have to anymore.

You’re free.

A/N 3: Thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 months

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This is a former 2 family 1848 home in New Orleans, LA that was converted in 2015 to a large single family residence. 3bds, 4ba, $1.2M.

Enter on the right into a small foyer.

The open & airy living room has an original operable fireplace that's been converted to gas.

And, now b/c the 2 homes were combined, there are 2 parlors. This one has floating bookshelves on the walls. I don't know why, but I like floating built-ins.

In the back of the home is a spacious kitchen/dining area. I love the piece on the wall. I wonder if it would convey.

The kitchen is very large and has lots of storage.

It has a 1st fl. primary suite. Love the fireplace and built-in dresser.

There's also a walk-in closet and a big bath with a double width shower.

I like the modern stair rails and the built-in storage they put under the stairs.

Upstairs is a den with beautiful beams and built-ins.

Love the architectural detail of the twisty chimney.

There's another large shower up here, too.

In the back of the house, they took a cottage from next door and attached it. It has a Murphy bed in the wall and it's actually like a studio apt.

Has its own bath, too.

And, the whole wall opens to the patio.

On the side of the house is a garage.

As the description says, it's just a few blocks from the French Quarter. The home is on a 3,001 sq. ft. corner lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1705-Burgundy-St-New-Orleans-LA-70116/73787426_zpid/?

#NOLA homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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katskitoshi · 2 years

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"sheepy!" with twisted wonderland

synopsis: an accident it alchemy class tuns [name] into a sheep! how do the dorms react to sheep! [name] when they are tasked with taking care of them?

characters: heartslabyul, savanaclaw, octavinelle, scarabia & pomefire x sheep! gender neutral! reader

includes: imagine sheep mc! from obey me as you,

heartslabyul: riddle, trey, cater, ace & deuce.

you will be in pretty good hands with these five most of the time in heartslabyul. it's a nice dorm with it's pretty roses and a nice big rose maze to get lost in. you get along well with the hedgehogs and gossip about the flamingos with them! the halls are all twisty-turvy so it's easy to get around.

riddle is a good caretaker surprisingly. he is a stickler for the rules and has never collared you because he says it's animal cruelty even though you're still human(and he has a big fat crush on human you). he leaves you with the hedgehogs sometimes and like i said, you and the hedgehogs get along pretty good. he enjoys you in this form because he's now severely taller that you!

trey is so nice! he's a good caretaker too and makes sure to make special cups of tea for you to drink during unbirthday parties. he also lets you sit on the counter while he bakes, he might even let you attempt to crack open some chestnuts! he even gives you a mini chef hat to wear!

cater is fun to be around. he takes lots of pictures for magicam with you because you're so cute and lovable. he styles your wool sometimes to match his hair and puts it in cute little hair pins in the shapes of diamonds! (his top post on magicam is a picture of you in a teapot with the teapot lid on your head.) you are always held in his arms because its super magicam-able. he makes sure you see all the pics once you turn back human.

ace is very troublesome. he should never be trusted alone with you because he is very troublesome. he has (more than once) lost you, kicked you by accident, hit you with a basketball by accident, gotten you stuck in tree, spilt tea in your wool, cut your wool, and so many things. he gets his caretaker privileges revoked when he accidentally left you with floyd, who almost drowned you. he is currently doing all the chores of heartslabyul as punishment. he doesn't apologize after you turn back so you might need to look for a new friend.

deuce is mid when it comes to his caretaking skills. he sometimes forgets about you, but other that that, you are pampered! he distance himself from ace every time he has to watch over you. he avoids fights when he's with you.

savanaclaw: leona, ruggie & jack.

savanaclaw is a scary dorm to be in! despite all the beastmen who live here, it is not safe for a small sheep such as yourself. it is a hot dorm, so hopefully you can handle the heat under all the wool! luckily, you have three very good beastmen to take care of you.

leona is lazy. "[name]"? who's that? he only knows herbivore. he does the bare minimum if anything at all. he might let you have the veggies that are in his lunch if you're lucky and it proves his point that you're a herbivore. you live 24/7 as a pillow for him. when he's up, you're up. when he's sleep, you're sleep. being honest, he probably just throws you (literally) at ruggie to take care of you.

ruggie is a very good caretaker. he is very happy about taking care of you because leona is throwing extra money at him to buy you food. taking care of a tiny sheep and a lazy lion isn't too hard since you're always trying to help! leona probably forgot that you can't eat a full serving but ruggie will gladly eat for you! he leaves you in the botanical garden if he can't watch you.

jack is such a good boy about it. he is such a good care taker. he knows just the right way to take care of your wool and feed you and clean you and everything like that. when he's tasked with taking care of you, he's the only one who takes care of you unless he can't. and when he can't he always trusts you with someone responsible. when you revert back to human form, his old habits die hard and it takes a while. make sure to give him lots of head pats for his help!

octavinelle: azul, jade & floyd.

trust me on this, octavinelle might not be the safest place for you. it's bustling with students almost all day and some of the dorm members enjoy making your life living hell during your time in the dorm! shady characters try to make contracts with you or even try to use you as promotion for sales! also watch out for eels, some like to drown unsuspecting sheep like you...

azul always has you in his office or in the lounge for promotion. a cute little sheep who happens to be the prefect of ramshackle dorm loves the food, so you should too! he may or may not try to convince you into a contract. your human form for the rights to ramshackle, how does it sound? despite all the shady business he uses you for, he usually keeps you out of harms way!

it's hilarious to jade. he loves watching you scurry around the bustling floors of the monstro lounge avoiding customer's and staff. and it's so funny watching the fear on your face as you have to strain yourself to look up at him and literally anyone else. he will forcibly bring you along with him on his hikes for mountain lovers club. don't worry, he has a really pretty leash for you so you don't get lost!

floyd is happy with your change but is horrible at taking care of you. while you're in your sheep form, you only get called "sheepy" and never "shrimpy" even if you're more shrimp-like now than before. you're always scurrying away from him and that makes him sad. but in all fairness, he has almost drowned you, dropped you from on top of his head, stepped on you, lost you, dangled you over the deep-fryer and a lot of other crimes he should be accounted for.

scarabia: kalim & jamil.

scarabia is a very hot dorm so you'll probably sweat under your wool. at scarabia, you're treated like royalty and always pampered with gifts and food! this dorm is great and you have two caretakers to take care of you! well, how do they do?

kalim is barely taking care of you. if he isn't doting on or spoiling you, he's probably forgotten about you. but while he is taking care of you, you luckily have many sheep items and food at your disposal. you could literally be in this sheep form for like 2 hours and been in his care for 30 minutes and he's already spent over 3,000 madol on you. in short words, kalim is bad caretaker but you are a very spoiled sheep for however long he's watching you.

jamil is your main caretaker and honestly one of the best people you can end up with. he knows how to take care of you. he makes you delicious sheep-friendly food for you to eat! it tastes really good, promise! as long as you're not bothering him, he's fine taking of you.

pomefiore: vil, rook & epel.

the dorm of pomefiore is a is perfect for a sweet sheep like yourself! the dorm is filled with pretty things such as its students and leaders - oh, and the scenery too it seems. but don't worry, you have the three prettiest pomefiore residents to watch over you. you're in good hands with their perfectly manicured hands.

you are treated like royalty anywhere on pomefiore land. that's what vil schoenheit has made required. you will look like nothing but the fairest sheep while under his care. if he can't find sheep-care products for your wool and hooves and horns and whatever, he would mix something up with his amazing potion skills. i promise you, you will look like the prettiest sheep in all the twisted wonderland.

rook is having a bit too much fun with you in this form. he's not a good caretaker. he is instead chasing you around the pomefiore courtyards and such. you're unleashing his natural hunting instincts! run little sheep, a hunter is coming for you! he takes a billion photos of you like this and he has to make a whole new photo album of you in sheep form because the other 188 photo books he has of you are full.

epel is so sweet to you. he cuts you little apple slices. he lets puts you in the water and watches you swim around while practicing his singing. he finds your little "bah"'s and belts really cute! don't worry, epel is a really good caretaker when he has time. he even carves a sheep replica of you from an apple! he uses a preservation spell and gives it to you once youre back in human form!

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christinaroseandrews · 3 months

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A lot of people are talking about how Disney didn't get nominated for their flagship 100th animated feature, Wish. Which is a big deal, I am not disputing that. This was a stellar year for animation and the academy had a glut of good options that did not include Wish. (I would have liked makoto shinkai's Suzume to be nominated but...)

But I want to talk about something else that is probably sticking in Disney's craw.

None of their Animated movies, in particular Wish, were nominated for "best original song."

Starting in 1940 with "when you Wish upon a Star", Disney's animated features could be counted upon to receive a nomination for best original song often winning the Honor. This includes movies such as Bambi; Saludos Amigos; Cinderella, and that racist mess that Disney would like you to forget, Song of the South. Even during the years after Walt's death a bunch of songs were nominated from things like Pete's Dragon and The Rescuers. But it wasn't until The Little Mermaid and the animation Renaissance that Disney's almost stranglehold and expectation that they're animated films would get nominated for an Oscar for best song really came into the forefront.

Take a walk through the best song nominations from 1989 to now and pretty much the majority of Disney and/or Pixar movies put out in those years has a best song nomination. There are a few exceptions, there always are, but generally when Disney includes original songs in its Animated properties it gets nominated.

That makes this year so odd. Disney technically has a nomination with Diane Warren's song for Flamin' Hot, which I suspect has more to do with the fact that the academy loves to nominate Diane Warren and then never give her the Oscar. ~_^ The big thing I noticed was that there were no nominations for Wish or even Elemental. And even more crucially, there was no one setting up a hue or cry that these movies (particularly Wish) didn't get nominated for best song.

Wish had all of the ingredients to be both an Oscar Bait for best animated feature and best original song. And the academy ignored it.

And frankly, I think this is 100% deserved. Wish was an okay movie. It wasn't good it wasn't bad it was just okay. And it's songs were forgettable.

Worse than that, in my opinion, they were unsingable. And what I mean by that is the songs were so complex so lyrically and musically difficult that a four-year-old in a princess dress would struggle to sing them. There were too many jumps and the lyrics were incredibly tongue twisty and they even sounded difficult for an accomplished singer like Ariana DeBose to sing. Seriously, the chorus of This Wish has so many jumps and drops that it is almost impossible to stay on key and also follow the melody. The music is just there.

When I walked out of the theater, I couldn't remember any of the songs. I still can't. And as most of my friends can tell you I have a bloody musical memory. I remember songs.

The first time I saw Barbie, I had three of the songs (What was I made for, I'm just Ken, and Pink) wrestling for dominance over who was going to be my earworm for the day. The same thing was true with Frozen, Moana, Encanto, beauty and the Beast, and even Tarzan. I still can't remember the music from Wish at all. To even write this, I had to go on YouTube and listen to the songs. And after listening to them, I still can't sing them. But just typing "I'm just Ken" has put that song in my head.

So rather than just celebrating Wish being excluded in a very good year for animation (it was so good, y'all) we should also be laughing and pointing that the Disney's attempts at getting a best song nomination for that movie also went unheeded.

Because I sure am.

#wish #disney wish #academy award nominations #oscars 2024 #best original song #best animated feature #wish was ingored #as it should be

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insanedevotion · 5 months

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good timezone its midnight here and i'm lying awake thinking about pacific rim au landoscar so um throws this snippet at you (now that ive written this little thing i Will have to expand it ik. Sigh)

Lando reaches out with his good arm, slowly, still treating him a bit like a spooked cat, and Oscar can't find it in him to feel anything except safe.

He doesn't take his hand, just lays his on top of Oscar’s. Touching him is usually electric, like touching a live wire, but right now it’s just gentle. Comforting. Lando’s hand is warm and soft, and large enough to wholly cover Oscar’s, and the feeling is grounding. Reminds him that Lando is alive, he’s breathing, there’s blood in his veins.

It’s kind, really kind, and if Oscar was braver he’d lean forward and wrap Lando into his arms and probably start to sob again into his shoulder. He isn’t. He doesn’t.

“This is stupid,” he says, when he doesn’t feel dangerously close to hyperventilating anymore, his voice still wobbly, “you’re the one who almost died. Why am I more fucked up about it than you are?”

Lando shrugs and tightens his grip slightly in reassurance.

“Not stupid. You felt my arm break, mate, that can’t have been fun. Also, I’m probably pretty fucked up about it. We’ll see what happens when I try to get back in a Jaeger.”

Oscar winces, makes an ooh-boy face to try to pull a laugh out of him. It almost works, Lando’s face doing something twisty that means he’s trying not to smile because smiling feels inappropriate. Oscar doesn't say please laugh, because that’s probably too weird. Instead, he detangles his hands from Lando’s and unfurls from the seating position that is getting very uncomfortable.

#formula 1 #rpf #f1 rpf #theres the rpf warning lol #landoscar #twinklaren #mctwinks #pacific rim au #lando norris x oscar piastri #drabble #going so crazy insane pls enjoy #hurt/comfort #i think it counts yeah #snippet

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splatattackz · 7 months

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ultimately, we, as the audience, are supposed to feel distressed and confused by qbbh and ron. its a fact. it is psychological horror at some of its best. and i think thats very important to remember that when looking at the current situation(s).

it is also important to keep in mind that this is an ever progressing and ever growing story. it has had a million twists and turns already - and such a twisty and turny road will not end so soon. theres many things cc!bbh probably has up his sleeve that we've yet to see or pick up on. and thats fine! it is the wonders of a live story! there is no way to skip ahead a few pages to see any twists that may occur - just as there is no way to skip to the last few pages of this book to see the ending!

what may seem like bad storytelling to you now may just be storytelling without proper context. actions without the whys and hows are bound to feel like bad storytelling until you know more behind the reason. you get what i mean?

its also important to keep in mind: cc!bbh has said that, over the next few weeks, we will see q!bbh get plenty more unhinged. and as he gets more unhinged, consequences will certainly begin to settle in. it is nothing more than a waiting game.

you just have to trust because there is no one who knows how this will go except bbh and the admins. and bbh is a very talented storyteller if you give him the tools to do so.

#okay this makes 0 sense #im just rambling my thoughts on the matter #:P #qsmp #qsmp bbh #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmpattackz #splatattackz

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izzyseemsfizzy · 2 months

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spill the headcannons i must know (you dont have to)

OH BUT OF COURSE >:3

(these r my silly hcs bc idk in a silly goofy mood today if u want the more /srs ones lmk)

theres so many oh my lordy im just gonna go open my google doc and drop some of them

-tans afraid of heights (im very cruel)

-fortecrew owns every indie game in existence and can tell you about every single one of them, also most definitely had a fnaf phase

-pink is really really really really shit at sarcasm detecting (just like me fr woah), so purple will be sarcastic abt smth and itll go right over their head

-red is ambidextrous and has the voice claim as my friend russel (yt channel Russel Pup Studios)

-blue is very prone to motion sickness

-pink likes chewing inedible things

-purple is british 💀 (thanks twisty)

-black is terrible with children and will literally throw a fucking child across the room

-gray (MIRA HQ) really likes the moon

-olive (MIRA HQ) is actually so good at mario kart

-blue-eye and red-eye scam children on roblox adopt me

-pink’s favorite ice cream flavor is ube bc its purple and it reminds them of purple <3

woah that’s a lot.

#among us #rodamrix #among us rodamrix #among us animation #headcanons #hcs #rodamrix headcanons #among us headcanons #answered asks #asks

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ratwavegamehouse · 2 months

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Doing work on This is Your Lifepath season 2 has got me thinking about lists of inspirations again. So I rounded up some lists in upcoming projects.

(Ritual Magic for Besties isn't here as its bibliography is fairly short and more explanatory rather than list-y, also like it comes out later this month so you can just wait)

PSYCHODUNGEON

The games listed are primarily about mechanical influence (which is why they're mostly a very large slice of Belonging outside Belonging games). Big exceptions are Subway Runner and DD.TV which are both there for post-dungeon fantasy influence. ACWtM is there for the influence on the asymmetric roles, which are a divergence from how BoB setting elements tend to work, and so my own Fear the Taste of Blood is there because working on that is how I understood that element better.

Probably should clarify Moonstruck is the comic (as like loose setting influence) rather than the film (which bangs but doesn't relate much to PSYCHODUNGEON).

NHSmackdown is a wrestling/performance art show by a friend of mine which was focused on being a nurse. The influence is in how it got me reflecting on being trapped in job which is nominally doing good but isn't protecting you and is honestly actively harming you.

Nemesis Revealed

Nemesis Revealed is a storytelling game of great rivals, where you play someone's nemesis, their dark counterpart and follow their story. It has multiple playsets which frame a different hero to create your nemesis in opposition to.

So the game influences are either in mechanics or in the structure of a book basically. Whereas the other section primarily focuses on specific influences for different playsets (there's a sort of conventional street level superhero, a gender-twisty tokusatsu inspired story, as well as strange space knights and near-distant future mecha crews). It's a scattershot and probably reads very opaque without context (I think that's how all my bibliography lists look which is probably why I place them at the back, where a reader will find them already armed with context, rather than at the start as a taste setter).

Transgender Deathmatch Legend II: Grand Slam

TDL2 actually has two separate lists. There's a traditional bibliography. I referenced my own work I've drawn on because it seems honest. Fox in the Forest is there for influencing the original mechanic. Hieronymus influenced how i wanted the shape of the book to be. Stealing the Throne influenced some non-fighting mechanics.

The other references are more for how they influenced specific scenarios (like one is loosely Raid inspired but turned into smashing up a GIC, while another is a direct Warriors-riff).

I included the Party of One episode i did cause it helped clarify how i felt about the game. British lads hitting each other with chairs is there because it's a mood.

Sh!t Theatre Drink Rum with Expats was a fringe theatre show I did set up for and it ended up influenced the content of a work-in-progress show I did called Crossface (which was a wrestling inspired character comedy performance drama). Some of the content for Crossface has been recycled into some personal essays I have in the book. So paying tribute to that root felt important.

But before that section TDL also has a Recommended Reading list. It's mainly stuff that I think conveys what's enjoyable about wrestling. I wouldn't say everything was a direct inspiration, but if you read the book and played the game and wanted to know more about wrestling; there's a little roadmap in the book.

(Though being serious this appendix is obviously super subject to change before release if anything horrific comes out about anyone featured, obviously the danger in recommending any wrestling tbh)

#game design #indie ttrpg #ttrpg #is this a preview of any of these games?#I have no idea #but hey maybe it gets you excited #even just to understand why this shit is there #time flies doesn't have a full list yet because the game still has a lot more writing to go #so anything i could share would be incomplete and i don't think a useful glimpse

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hurricane-heatt · 3 months

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for the trope mash up, may i request summer camp au + accidentally married + martian? :P

hello!!!! you’ll have to forgive me for both the time this took and the brief accidentally married bit but it made it in there and it’s sweet i think!!!! i hope u like it :)

seb and mark as camp leaders! they both have their own group of about ten kids and their groups go together on adventure walks in the mornings (an hour for the kids to get all their energy out and then do nice quiet things in the afternoon). the groups joining together is not by choice.

it’s a problem because the two group leaders bicker. a lot. the camp is very underfunded so a lot of the equipment is missing and/or on its last legs. they mostly argue about silly things like Well you had the stove last night so can my kids have it tonight? But we’re toasting marshmallows! You toasted marshmallows last night!!!! no one seems to think why don’t we just collaborate and share a stove. (one of the other camp leaders will sigh and push their own stove towards whoever’s moaning abt it)

they are also deeply competitive on behalf of their camps. children are children and love games and winning and beating each other and seb and mark sort of might maybe use this as an excuse to wind each other up. the whole ethos of the campus is Be Kind Everyone’s a Winner Teamwork all that rubbish. seb and mark, upon hearing there’s a egg and spoon race across the wider camp, are strategically planning who is best suited to compete for their team.

it always comes down to Webber vs Vettel and the kids love it because children are desperate to shout and cheer at anything that moves, especially when the thing moving is their friends and in the background their camp leaders are elbowing each other when one wins and the other loses

anyway. one day they’ve gone on an adventure walk. afterwards one of the kids comes and taps mark and has a very sad little look on her face. she’s lost her camp backpack and it had all of her stuff in it (the way kids bring every item they own everywhere). she’s all teary eyed and nervous and so mark says don’t worry, i’ll go and look for it. can’t have sprouted legs and walked off!

but then mark realises the girl is from seb’s group. so he goes and tells seb and he’s like Oh we’d better go look for it. mark is like Um. We? seb shrugs. says Well she told you so. You have to come with me. It’s only fair actually. Anyway, two sets of eyes are better than one!

(lots of flimsy excuses to spend time with mark, who he’s had a little bit of a crush on since seb started working here last summer, that’s irrelevant, though.)

cue plenty of huffing. but off they go! into the woods! they follow the same trail they did in the morning, up the hill, through the twisty trees, as they’re colloquially named for the way they wrap around both the sky and themselves, the huge and constantly muddy puddle on a concrete path that the kids delighted in getting their boots in.

and it’s a nice day so maybe they take a little longer on the way, while also peering around bushes in case any passersby have been kind enough to drop the backpack in for safekeeping.

maybe seb takes a little longer in the dirt, checking behind trees because when he turns around mark’s got one hand on his hips, squinting into the sun with the other hand covering his eyes and he’s actually really toned and his arms are very nice. he’s noticed before obviously. how could he not. he’s just a guy. but this is different, especially when mark turns to look at him and seb feels particularly caught out when he grins knowingly. Shut up. Keep walking.

and maybe mark lingers a bit behind seb as he runs ahead thinking he sees a glimpse of red on a fence post. maybe he watches because seb’s hair turns golden in the light like a halo and it’s very beautiful. like art, mark thinks, and he wishes he had a camera. or maybe he can keep it all to himself in his memory

seb turns back around when he sees it isn’t the backpack, just a bit of a torn fabric from a tent, and mark sighs but they’re nearly at the end of the trail (a big loop around the campsite) so Surely it must be ahead!

the last part of the walk is always the children’s favourite, a big hill leading into a sunken in field, a valley of sorts. there’s a footpath worn out by adventurers over the years but they all, everytime, get on their stomachs and roll down on the grassy part, tufts sticking to their shirts as they land at the bottom, giggling. seb looks as if he’s itching to recreate it but they carry on down the grown up route.

something catches their eye in the middle of the field, and there sits a bright red backpack, looking very lost. they run towards it as if it’s some precious artefact and they cheer and hug each other and then laugh it off nervously. because they’re stupid.

the running wore them out, though, so they sit on the grass. the kids are fine with the other camp leaders, probably being better behaved than they do for mark and seb themselves, so they’ll take a break. seb notices (after he stops looking at mark who’s leant back on his forearms and looking sweaty and handsome) that there’s little braided stems littered in the grass.

Oh, she must’ve got distracted when making the daisy chains! Easy to do, replies mark with a smile, eyes shut as he soaks up the sun

seb picks one chain up, inspects the way they’re intricately laced into one another, finds some half finished ones too. he gets to work piercing a hole through the stem with his nail, threading it through, over and over until it fits neatly on his wrist. flimsy and delicate but he grins and shows it to mark

mark will smile and say, Can I have one? and seb would say Make one yourself you lazy arse, and then mark would pull himself upright and scramble to launch at seb, who laughs loud and bold like it’s so easy to do. he fights because because he’s no quitter and the smell of grass and the sun beating down on them mixes in their lungs and Oh, look, you’ve snapped it!

seb frowns but stops when he realises he’s now on top of mark, was pinning his wrists to the dirt when he notices his bracelet has broken and fallen off. mark doesn’t say a word, just breathes and looks straight up at seb. they both breathe like that for a while, seb in two minds, a dozen fleeting thoughts while mark looks so calm. how can this be so easy? how can it be so hard?

Pull me up, then. Sure, sorry. S’alright. I’ll make you another bracelet.

so then they sit quietly against each other, knees touching, and occasionally mark let’s out an exasperated sigh as he splits the stem (big hands, clumsy) but eventually there’s a semblance of a bracelet for the both of them. they gather up some of the smaller rings too, to bring them back for the kids. finally, seb hoists the little red backpack over one shoulder, and they make their way back to the camp

it’s late afternoon so they’re getting ready for dinner around the fire, and some of the kids are comforting the little girl who lost her backpack. It’ll be okay! They’ll find it! Mark found my hat, remember! Yeah, and Seb found my pencil case!

when seb and mark return it’s as if they’ve brought home a golden trophy. the girl hugs seb’s knees and they both scruff her hair and say Be careful next time!

the kids crowd around them, hailed as heroes, and one points to their arms and gasps, turning to their friend and giggling. then they’re all in fits of laughter.

What’s so funny? says seb, putting a chain that’s far too long on his hair. everyone keeps laughing and mark looks at him like he’s an angel, with his crown of daisies atop his head. You’re married now! says one of the little boys, and he smacks his hand over his mouth as if he spoke without thinking.

How does that work, then! mark laughs but doesn’t look at sebastian, who’s looking at him with pink cheeks and a wide smile. Because you both have the bracelets on! It’s fairy magic, it means you’re married forever! one girl chimes in, her tone of voice as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I can’t be stuck with him forever! and all the children cackle with laughter and run back to their seats around the campfire as dinner is called, plastic plates on their laps.

and they both should go and help serve the food but instead they just stand there for a little while, watching the flames dance in the pit.

and then maybe mark slips his hand into sebastian’s, just gently, the daisy chains sliding against one another. and seb squeezes, once, and doesn’t let go. like it’s easy.

#guess who got carried away again #sebmark #martian #sorry i’m a sucker for an au

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