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harpersessentials · 7 months

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my current meow generation is living in brindleton bay and now with the new baby and the need to move into a new house, i decided to do my usual list of favourites nocc lots for brindleton bay.

i always imagine brindleton as a bucolic coastal world. well, less bucolic than henford, but still pretty much linked to the farming style of living. so all my choices follow that premise.

1 - Club Calico (40x30)

Bay Community Library (Library) by @moonlightowl-es

2 - Salty Paws Saloon (20x15)

Lighthouse Restaurant (Restaurant) by xnicole11xx

The Salty Paw (Restaurant/Lounge) by @kazroze

Old Pier Restaurant (Restaurant) by delpfina

The Whiskerman’s Grill (Restaurant) by @ariafaeyt

the happy lobster bar & restaurant (Restaurant) by @grenedae

Seafood Restaurant (Restaurant) by @flubber32c4

Whiskerman's Seafood (Restaurant) by @lilamausmaus

3 - Catscratch Cottage (20x15)

Bay Market (Retail) by schnuck01

Lady With Cats (Café) by simmarysims

Living on the Dock (Residential) by @catsaar

4 - Ragdoll Refurb (20x20)

Harbor Café & Bar (Bar/Café) by @catsaar

Brindleton Grocery Market (Retail) by @Jordan_Aslett

The Cornflower Crab (Restaurant) by @therubyramses-sims

Family Bay House (Residential) by simmarysims

5 - Tail’s End (40x30)

Brindleton Pawspital (Vet Clinic) by @mikkimur-sims

Ghoulery Farm (Residential) by @xogerardine

Hemingway House (Residential) by quiescence90

6 - Pupperstone Park (40x30)

Pumpkin Farm (Café) by MarmeladArt

Derwent Mansion (Residential) by @xogerardine

Brindleton Bay Community (Community Space) by fallon133

7 - It's A Good House (40x40)

Modern Farmhouse (Residential) by @awingedllama

Brindleton Park (Park) by @moonlightowl-es

Whimsy in Brindleton Bay (Residential) by @nomorebadtownies

8 - Domus Familiaris (30x30)

The Cardinal (Residential) by schnuck01

Creature Comforts Clinic (Vet Clinic) by schnuck01

Charme Rural (Residential) by @simsontherope

9 - Sporting Space (30x20)

Moore Shoppe (Retail) by @catsaar

Happy Tails (Vet Clinic) by @zebrafizz

Melrose (Residential) by @xogerardine

Dreamy Fall Home (Residential) by simmarysims

10 - Brindleton Pawspital (40x30)

Brindleton Pawspital (Vet Clinic) by Malloc1Lisa

Brindleton Pawspital (Vet Clinic) by @moonlightowl-es

Bayside Pet Hospital (Vet Clinic) by @therubyramses-sims

11 - Hound's Head (64x64)

Autumn Farm (Residential) by @BereSims20

Hillcrest House (Residential) by @BereSims20

Flower Farm (Residential) by @BereSims20

Brindleton Farmhouse (Residential) by @BereSims20

12 - Bedlington Boathouse (20x20)

Brindleton Bay Starter (Residential) by @theseptembersim

Beach House (Residential) by @plantsimgirl

Rustic Sandstorm (Residential) by @drewdsims

Lake Cottage (Residential) by @simnematographygj

Smuggler's Cottage (Residential) by @suanin89

Cozy Cottage (Residential) by @cubedkiwis

bedlington boathouse (Residential) by @myshunosun

13 - Hindquarter Hideaway (30x20)

Westbourne Barn (Residential) by @xogerardine

Nuptialem Borough (Wedding Venue) by @rebouks

Bab's Barn (Wedding Venue) by @plumbobteasociety (lite cc)

Basegame Starter Home (Residential) by @plantsimgirl

14 - Dachshund’s Creek (30x20)

Creekside Bungalow (Residential) by @magnoliidae

Secret House of a Little Witch (Residential) by @boringcat

15 - Chateau Frise (40x40)

Love & Pumpkins (Wedding Venue) by @moonlightowl-es

16 - Deadgrass Discoveries (30x30)

The Old Deadgrass Museum (Museum) by @surely-sims

Deadgrass Family Farm (Residential) by @ariafaeyt

The Enchanting Meadow (Residential) by @ladychaos

Wedding Barn (Wedding Venue) by @rachelpedd

Mansion Deadgrass (Residential) by @mikkimur-sims

House by the Lighthouse (Rental) by @peacefulprunes

#ts4 lots #akitas picks #ts4 download #ts4 brindleton bay #ts4 cats and dogs

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look-at-the-soul · 11 months

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The one

Modern Tommy Shelby x reader

A/N congratulations @toms-cherry-trees on 1.5K followers! 👏🏻✨🎉🥳🙌🏻 you deserve that and many many more!! So I wrote this little piece for you, I hope you enjoy it, the idea came to my mind as the perfect match for your autumn theme when I saw this moodboard @acewritesfics created (I know you did it for Cillian + cottage Ace, but since I have that idea very similar in my The Photoshoot series, I took it as inspiration for a modern Tommy ☺️)

Patting around the bed to find the solid body she loved the most, but all Y/N could find was emptiness.

She couldn’t love this place more, the birds were chirping outside, the fresh air was too good to be true, no cellphone signal… if only she could find Tommy.

“Good morning beautiful.” He praised from the bedroom door, stepping in with a tray full of coffee, fruit and toast.

“I woke up and you weren’t here.” She pouted covering her upper body with the sheets.

“But I am now.” He replied placing the tray over her legs, taking one long look at her disheveled hair, tangled from all the times he ran his fingers through it the previous night. Her naked form covered only by the ivory sheets.

This was the closest to a vacation she could afford right now, not because money was a problem, but because Tommy had been extremely busy with his business and she knew asking for a five day or a week holiday would drive him mad, so a weekend at a small cottage was a luxury she couldn’t miss.

Everything had been perfect since they arrived; the lovely weather, the scent of nature, the calmness vs the caos in the city. She loved specially the dead leaves crunching beneath her feet as they took a long walk the previous day.

“It was a good idea to bring that small coffee machine.” Tommy chuckled realizing how little things they had there, no tv, no wifi, there was a small old fashioned fireplace that luckily still worked and he lit it as it started to get chilly last night.

“Told you it was a good investment.”

“I thought we’d have one… guess I was wrong.”

“Yeah same reason why you brought your iPad too.”

Tommy stole a strawberry from the bowl. “Uhu, I really can’t believe there’s no access to technology around.”

“Don’t complain, we’ve hot water and power light.”

Tommy’s eyes sparkled suddenly. “And the best part is… I‘ve you all to myself.”

Y/N’s body tingled just by his voice and the way he was looking at her.

Closing her legs instinctively, she observed her boyfriend place the tray on the dresser.

“You think that’s going to stop me?” He arched an eyebrow cockily at the same time he took one of her legs to drop a kiss on her ankle, starting a trail of feather-like kisses all over her skin, making Y/N discover the soft spot behind her knee that she didn’t know it existed and how much it was turning her on.

She sighed content letting Tommy throw the covers aside.

****

It was a lovely Autumn day, her favorite season, the colors, the trees losing their leaves, the smell, she could swear the atmosphere was different.

Perhaps what really made a difference was watching Tommy so calm with a high energy and an endless smile on his face. Turning around, she found the last rays of sunshine kissing his skin, every freckle and the reflection in the lake in front of them making his blue eyes sparkle even more.

He wasn’t wearing his signature immaculate three piece suit, but a white t-shirt covered by a denim jacket and black jeans, he looked like a totally different person, looking at him made her heart skip a beat, just like the first time.

“Whot?” He frowned.

“You look different.” Y/N pointed out. “Happier.”

“Well I’ve everything I want right now, that surely is a motive.” Tommy admitted kissing her hair.

His surprise grew even more when he saw Y/N pulling out a blanket from the basket she demanded to bring to their stroll.

“Don’t stand there watching, help me!” She shot him a look, placing her side on the grass.

“So bossy.” Tommy chuckled, relaxing his body finally over the blanket, pulling her towards him moments later.

He tried to suppress a chuckle when he saw her placing a bottle of wine and two glasses between them, she was always extra when packing.

“Oh, do I hear someone complaining?” She laughed.

In silence, his mind wandered to think how grateful he really was for Ada insisting over and over for him to try out one of those ridiculous dating apps, after being extremely picky about the prospects showing up in his cellphone, he stopped when he found Y/N’s profile.

Matching her right away, the conversation was flowing naturally, they simply clicked and agreed to meet the following week.

She wasn’t just eye catching physically, her interests caught his attention, she was a lawyer and worked at her own firm, had a good taste in music and books, she loved to fight for human rights. And when they first met in person, he knew she wasn’t just good looking, she had a brain, an interesting conversation and she could keep up with his wicked sense of humor surprisingly well. He was surprised how the conversation never seemed to die with Y/N.

The romance took off immediately, date after date, they discovered new things about the other one, Tommy particularly loved the moment she arrived at her apartment, kicking her high heels while he poured some wine as she stretched her legs on the couch. By now he had lost count of how many skirts and dresses she owned, but he knew she wore a different outfit to every trial.

Now they were both wearing casual outfits, comfortable shoes and she added a light scarf around her neck, both completely out of their elements.

Tommy leaned on his back enjoying not having everyone bothering every three minutes, the silence, peace, not feeling anxious about his next meeting or the papers piling up to sign on his desk, the atmosphere calm, he even took several minutes admiring the sighting… not every day he got to have all of that.

“Did you fall asleep?” Y/N whispered nudging her nose against his cheek.

“No, I’m just relaxing as you said I should.” He confessed opening one eye to look at her.

The autumn breeze made a chill run up and down her back, instinctively Tommy’s hand started caressing over the jumper as if he had been able to feel it. He was lying down on his back. This was the prettiest sunset she had ever seen, the lake catching the reflection of the sky, copying the oranges tones, as well as the incredible trees before her eyes, it looked like it was taken out of professional photograph.

Closing the novel she had been reading, Y/N turned around and rested an arm and head on his torso, adapting to the calm rhythm of his breathing. Taking in the scar on his chin, she wondered how he got it.

“I can feel you staring.” He stated with his eyes closed, hidden under his Ray Bans.

“Just admiring the view,” she admitted, “and the calmness.”

A smile started forming on his lips, but he didn’t move from his position, loving the way her body felt against his.

“I can’t remember the last time I took a day off.”

Y/N chuckled switching her position to lay down next to him. “That’s exactly why I suggested it. You needed to relax.”

“I was relaxed.” He defended quickly.

“Ugh you can be so stubborn sometimes, you were under so much stress, it wasn’t fun to be around.”

In mere seconds, Tommy pinned Y/N under his body.

She squealed and tried to kick her legs while he was holding his weight on his arms to not crush her down.

“Oh let me show ya how much fun I can be.” He adviced with a smirk, grinding against her sweet body, changing completely the atmosphere.

“This is dangerous… and wild.”

Apart from the cottage and the very few villages at the other side of the lake, they were practically on their own.

“No one is around.” He answered playfully looking from left to right, attacking Y/N’s neck afterwards.

A wave of electricity ran through every nerve in her body. Deep down she knew this was a side of him that not all the people got to see, and it wasn’t really so frequent.

“But… you’ll have to be on top darling, I’m not getting any younger.” Tommy joked resuming his previous position.

“I don’t ever want to go back to the city.” Y/N murmured as they snuggled, loving their surroundings close to the cottage. “Look at you. Who would’ve thought you would end up enjoying this?”

“I’m a man full of surprises, love.”

His hand sneaked around her waist, bringing her body above his.

Y/N giggled, but let him pull her closer, Tommy loved that look on her as the sun about to go down shone through her.

“Oh Mr. Surprises I think we should rent this Airbnb more often.” She absolutely fell in love with the cottage and everything around it. It was small, cozy and had everything they needed.

Tommy cleared his throat. “Speaking of Airbnb…” he took in her beauty for an instant, “when we go back to the city, I’m planing to make an offer for the place.”

Y/N looked at him with shock written all over her face.

“What? Why?”

“Because I love how happy you look.”

Her smile grew and the space in her face wasn’t enough to hold it. “Tommy!”

He felt her smile against his lips as they kissed, but soon she moved away from his body to wrap a cardigan around her shoulders.

“And I also think it’s time you meet my son, Charlie… and the rest of my family.”

Before Y/N could answer something, Tommy continued. “I know we said we’d take it slow, but we’ve been dating for a while and you already know I’m deadly serious about this, why waste time?” He shuddered. “My sister specially has been very adamant to meet you.”

“Woah, you really want to make this official?”

Tommy nodded.

“I couldn’t feel more sure about us, since the moment I saw you walking into the restaurant that first time I thought shit, this is it, this is the one for me.”

“I’m so glad you sent that first message, I had decided earlier I’d give up looking and close the app.” Y/N ran her hands up and down his chest.

His knuckles caressing her cheek.

“Tell me about Charlie.” She asked. Eyelids half closed from his delicate touch.

And now it was his turn to smile because he absolutely knew she was the one.

***

A/N one of my friends just met her bf through a dating app and I’ve never seen her happier, so I got the inspiration from there! Kat I hope you never see this 😂🤣

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @gypsy-girl-08 @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @ange-thoughts @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @thenattitude @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @allie131313 @imichelle-l-rigby @winchestergirl22 @already-broken144 @strayrockette @forbidden-forest-witch @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @zablife @heidimoreton @peakyscillian @shaddixlife @moral-terpitude @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @sloanexx @cilliansangel @rangerelik @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @dandelionprints @thomashelbyswife

#That’s what Cill said #tommy Shelby #modern tommy shelby imagine #modern Tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fanfiction #modern peaky blinders #cillian murphy x tommy shelby

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imhereformysciencefriends · 6 months

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@mcyt-yuri-week Day 1: Break!

Read on AO3 here

Forest elves were known to come in many shapes and sizes. Gem was a willowy, slender, waifish, faun-looking elf, herself, with pointed ears and delicate antlers and bright red freckles that matched her hair, and thin, unicorn-like hooves and legs. It did mean that brushing her hair meant brushing her hocks, too, but it was such a natural part of life she didn’t even think about it. Despite her slim form, she wasn’t actually particularly tall, nearly every aspect of her small in one regard or another (except her hair, which was wild and curly and bright flashy red).

But she did have big aspirations! Many of her glade were content to build where they’d always built and live how they’d always lived, but Gem was curious about the border where their forest ended, where it rode up against strange lifeforms ethereal and odd. Gem was sure that as an elf, and a faunish one at that, it was a little rich for her to call something else ethereal and odd, but it was true!

At the edge of their forest, right across a broad river that served as a natural border, weird, brightly colored plants grew, moved in ways that plants shouldn’t move, and Gem swore she saw a ruin in there somewhere.

Now, she wasn’t going to try and stake a territory in the alien landscape. She was a braver elf than most but she would not be doing that, no thank you! She’d just set up her base across the river from it, still in her glade’s cozy ancestral home, shoring up the border of their territory (not that the river needed much help. In terms of forest edges that were in danger of being deforested, this one was generally considered one of the safer spans of area).

And go exploring! Sometimes.

Once she’d made a cute, cozy little cottage for herself, fussed around with her garden a bit, and gotten up some of her favorite pieces of art, she had to finally admit that she was stalling. It wasn’t that she wasn’t curious about the strange place! She was! But it also… seemed kinda dangerous, you know?

But it was time to put on her big girl tunic and see what was goin’ on over there! She cinched her leather underbust around her waist and tucked a couple thin vials of health potion into the sturdy straps, laced up her greaves and gauntlets, corralled her hair back into a loose, low ponytail, and set off! Worst comes to worst, she’d down a health potion and dart back home. Of all the elvish traits she’d inherited, being quick hooved with a keen sense of when to get the heck outta somewhere were amongst her strongest.

But things were off to a good start! The landscape here was beautiful, oh! So much of her wanted to take clippings or seed pods back home with her, though the rational part of her brain knew she should proooobably know a little more about what she was dealing with before she did that. But oh, the pinks and the oranges, the bright vibrant yellows despite autumn still being a ways away, the strange, moving vines and roots that did not radiate any malice or intent. It was gorgeous!

Now she felt a little silly for taking so long to come out here! Eee, she wished she was a better artist, she wanted to show everybody back home how lovely it was here!

And the ruins! Definitely human, though Gem didn’t know of any human civilizations that had lived so close to her glade on this side of the forest. It must be a very old ruin indeed! She pranced through them, light on her hooves, giggling to herself as she went.

The ruins were very, very old, so Gem was quite surprised when she found herself caught in a modern trap.

She yelped as tension snapped around her, a net of string clearly recently-fashioned hoisting her from the earth and leaving her dangling a solid four or five feet above ground.

“Hey!” she shouted, struggling instinctively. Oh this was silly! Now she was glad she was alone! Imagine! Her! An elf! Caught by a simple snare like this! Oh if anyone in her glade saw her like this she would never live it down!

But a modern trap meant a modern inhabitant. Gem’s blood chilled at the realization, and she then redoubled her efforts to get out. She didn’t know what kind of creature would have the mental acumen and dexterity to make a trap and was crazy enough to live here, but she! Didn’t! Want to know!

She yanked at the strings. It was well-crafted, likely spider silk, and Gem’s palms burned where she pulled and struggled. She kicked at it with her hooves, actually managing to snap a couple pieces here and there, but the net was intelligently made and did not unravel entirely at the loss of a few supports.

The bad angle wore at her stamina and the rising panic didn’t help at all. Especially since the plants, which had previously laid about so docile, even friendly, seemed like they were moving towards her now!

“Stay back!” she shouted at them, for all that she knew plants could neither hear nor “think” in the way that people thought. As she might have expected, the slow waves and wiggling of vines and roots went without dissuasion. She sank her teeth into the woven string, gnawing at it with her sharper canines, but the progress she made was frankly pitiful. It seemed she’d snapped all the weakest points, and all that remained was outside her ability to escape.

Finally, she wore herself out, and hung there, limply, trapped in the net as a fly in an actual web. It was hard to breathe as deeply as her body wanted, all folded in half like she was, one hoof and hock sticking out between the netting with one of the strings biting painfully into her skin, but she was too tired to try and wiggle it back in. She was mortified, too, red faced from exertion and embarrassment both. And one of her antlers was stuck and trying to move her head made the hornbed ache!

It was hard to tell how long she hung there. Not enough time for her to fully catch her breath, but enough that when she heard approaching footsteps, she instinctively turned to look. It pulled on her antler and she let out a small, high pitched noise, wriggling in her bindings once again.

“Oh!” came a woman’s voice, “Hyello!”

“Hi,” Gem said, half-breathless and irritable. “Let me down.”

“Well I almost wouldn’t need to!” The woman spoke with a strange accent, one Gem really hadn’t heard before, and she hung aggravatingly juuuuust in Gem’s peripherals. “You went and broke my trap! Not very polite of you.”

“What’s not polite is leaving me hanging here in a net!” Gem shouted, struggling again.

The woman laughed at her, the jerk, but thankfully gave a, “I know, I know, I’m just messin’ with you. Hold still, here, hup!”

Movement, the net swaying, and then there was the release of some mechanism and Gem and the woman both dropped to the ground, the one on the outside of the net landing nicely on her feet.

“Ow,” Gem deadpanned, far less amused with this situation than her captor/savior.

“You’re an interesting looking stranger. Are you from here?”

“I’m from across the river,” Gem said, accepting the help to sit up and detangle herself from the net. “I was just exploring. Are you from here?”

“No,” she said with a bright shrug. “I am living here now though, I suppose. I’m researching the area.”

Gem grunted and started trying to unhook the webbing from her antlers. As she did, she surveyed her new… whoever this was.

By all accounts, she looked like an ordinary human woman (and what indignity, an elf caught in a human trap!). Long, pale brown hair that hung halfway down her biceps. Thick, sturdy-made green overalls and a well made cotton shirt beneath. Big, sturdy stompin’ boots. Everything the woman wore (and netted, apparently) seemed to be fashioned for durability.

…Gem had been staring at her strong arms long enough she’d made out fine little hairs on her skin. Probably should look somewhere else.

“Thanks,” she said, less irritable now that she wasn’t strung from a tree, “for helping me down.”

“Awh, sorry for snatchin’ you up in the first place! I’m trying to catch one of the little scuttlers, the one I’ve been researching got out and it’s been awful trying to get it back again.”

“Scuttlers?”

“That’s what I’m calling them! Here, come inside, I’ll show you my research lab.”

Now, Gem was an adult woman. She was smart enough to know it wasn’t always wise to follow a stranger to a secondary location. Especially after that stranger had already caught her in one trap.

But this stranger had also let her out of the trap. And she was a pretty woman. Surely pretty women had no nefarious purposes. And besides, Gem, like, owed her or something. It’d be rude not to go.

“Sorry again about your trap,” she mentioned, glancing at the broken remains before following.

“No worries! It was getting old, anyway.”

“Mm. Hey, what’s your name? I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“Oh yeah! I’m your friendly resident Pearlo! Call me Pearl,” she said cheerfully, whirling around to outstretch her hand.

Gem took it in hers, strong, callused human fingers clasping firmly around dainty elvish ones.

“Call me Gem,” she echoed.

“Hey, listen to that! Gem and Pearl, we get one more and we’ll have a whole jewelry box.”

Gem laughed, and noticed that Pearl had not released her hand in order to resume walking her inside. They were holding hands now. Pearl didn’t even seem to notice it, so it was probably natural and nothing important to her. It should’ve felt natural and unimportant to Gem, too, she’d held lots and lots of hands before and it had never meant anything particularly special.

But, well, you see, Gem was not immune to Pretty Lady.

She followed her into one of the ruined structures, which was not so ruined on the inside, and listened as Pearl discussed her research. The “scuttler” was some sort of guard dog for one of those ancient underground cities, barking whenever passerby tread too loudly and alerting the alarm system, and eventually a huge beast. Gem listened with one cheek propped up on her fist, watching Pearl walk about her laboratory with the occasional “mhm” or “oh really?” to keep her going.

It was when Pearl said a particularly silly joke with a toss of her hair and a cock of her hip that Gem realized, “Oh, you’re trying to impress me!”

Pearl shocked still, mouth hanging open and eyes blown wide, and Gem giggled to see her blush.

“No, no,” she rushed to follow up, “keep going.” She tilted her head so her bright curls spilled over her shoulder and smiled with a flutter of her eyelashes. “It was working.”

#hermitcraft season 9 #geminitay #pearlescentmoon #gempearl #hermitcraft #mcyt yuri week #mcytyuriweek #mcytyuriweek2023 #prompt: break #sometimes you break your future gf's trap with your hooves it be that way sometimes #my writing #haro writes

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witchthewriter · 1 year

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𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: okay now this actually is my ALL TIME FAVOURITE post that I’ve ever done ... I was literally kicking my feet and giggling while writing this ...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

SFW🌿

Wanda is such a sweet partner. She has so much love and she just needs a person to give her love to. What better idea than to have two people to love?

Nat felt hesitant at first. But got more comfortable with the idea when she saw you and Wanda interacting.

You have Mummy issues? They’re healed. They’re gone.

Wanda is the type of person to call you out of the blue, even when you’re at work. “I just wanted to hear your voice!”

Whereas if Nat called you out of the blue, you’d start to panic

The amount of support and encouragement in this relationship is out of this world.

Whenever you have a bad day, there is always someone ready to make it better

You guys have favourite tv shows and movies that someone will put on randomly, even if no one is watching it. All three of you agree that it’s for comfort; background noise is a must in the household. These are: → Gavin & Stacey: a british tv show that Nat originally thought was ridiculous but now you all do the accents → Modern Family: Wanda LOVES this show, she likes the family dynamics and that they’re always there for one another → Peaky Blinders: This is Nat’s favourite, she loves Tommy Shelby. There are certain aspects of the show that she can connect with → Vikings: all three of you like this show! Especially Lagertha; all of you have a crush on her. → Elf: yes, Wanda knows it’s a Christmas movie, but when she first saw it, she couldn’t stop. So Nat had to put a ban on it unless it’s near Christmas (which Wanda said was November 1st) → Mamma Mia: All three of you know the words to EVERY ABBA song. Once Yelena slept over and you had the movie playing and she became OBSESSED. → Every single Harry Potter movie: Wanda sees herself as a Hufflepuff (is actually a Slytherin), Nat knows and accepts she’s a Slytherin → Practical Magic: comes on during the start of Autumn/Fall and stays playing until the 1st of November

Wanda is an amazing cook, especially when it comes to baking. She usually makes a different sweet at the beginning of the week.

You literally don’t have to lock your house up because you’re protected by the two most formidable women on the planet

Nat’s love language is acts of service and secretly words of affirmation. She absolutely DIES whenever you say “I’m proud of you” or “You did a great job!”

And Nat is always the one to fix tires, lightbulbs and get rid of spiders

You might think that Nat would be against living in a cottage, but she absolutely adores it. It was your idea, and Wanda fell in love with it

There are many pets in your household, Nat felt like they were liabilities at first. She wasn’t used to a breathing thing continuously dependent on her

Wanda was a tad unsure as well, but she folded almost instantly

Your pets are: Trix: the newest addition to the family, she’s a little black kitten who is absolute chaos. She runs up and down the hallways, doing those weird little cat stances. It makes all three of you laugh. Malachi (nicknamed Mal): An Irish wolfhound who had been at the pound for years and was about to be put down Alf: grumpy ol’ fluffy cat who likes to sleep in the sun all day every day. funnily enough, his favourite human is Nat.

Alf bit Sam Wilson when he came to visit and he was so offended because usually animals LOVE him.

There are so many panic buttons around the house in case it becomes a target

Yes, you guys have your own rooms. But they’re basically where you keep your belongings.

Nat works a lot at night, so it’s usually you and Wanda at home by yourselves. When it’s bedtime, you sleep together

Nat’s pet names for you are: ‘sweetheart’, ‘darling’, ‘honey’

Wanda’s pet name for you is: ‘moja ljubav’ meaning ‘my love’. It’s in Serbian which is the official language in Sokovia, where she grew up.

Wanda hums a lot, it’s usually a lullaby from her childhood. It calms her down, especially when she’s worked up

Nat and Wanda like to slow dance in the kitchen. Wanda’s head gently leaning on Nat’s chest, their arms wound tightly around each other. The pots and pans on the stove completely forgotten.

Yelena visits often! She loves Wanda’s cooking, talking with you, and getting to see her big sister. You always beg her to sleep over, and most of the time, she does!

Wanda’s love language is physical touch and quality time. She loves when you kiss her face; peppering small kisses over her nose, cheeks, chin, and forehead.

When Sam comes to visit, he usually brings Bucky and although he starts off as moody, he soon comes to love staying over. He and Nat have a lot in common and chat about their pasts.

Wanda does your and Nat’s nails. She begs Nat to let her do pink but never wins

As a joke you bought everyone matching pajamas, and although it was very funny, you all wear them unironically

Wanda uses her powers for a lot of things, and you absolutely love it. It’s so handy! If something breaks, Wanda can fix it, if you’re out and guys are harassing you, she has the ability to LITERALLY CONTROL THEIR MINDS.

Nat is the least likely to hold grudges, then you, then Wanda...

You’ve all decided that you want to travel the world together. Nat may not appear as excited as you and Wanda (she’s already traveled the world, but that was for missions.)

Wanda wants to go to Disneyland. Can you imagine Nat and Wanda with the mickey ears on?!

Theme Song:

Gimme All Your Love by Alabama Shakes

Relationship Tropes:

✧ Moon (Nat) x Sun (You) x Eclipse (Wanda)

✧ Tragic Past x Ray of Light (this goes for everyone)

✧ The Impulsive (Wanda) x The Hyperactive (You) x The Unheeded Voice of Reason (Nat)

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eleanor-bradstreet · 9 months

Text

The Field: Back to Autumn (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: G - grief, character death Word count: 1.8k

Part 3: In a Week Masterpost

Author's Note: The last in a four-part series based on songs about fields/nature that I associate with Benedict. This finale is based on the song Back to Autumn by Tall Heights. Thank you to everyone who has followed along with this lifelong love story 💙

Decades later

The snow would not deter him. He had planned on going to see you and so he would. And he needed to bring flowers. Nothing too delicate. Something beautiful that wouldn’t wither immediately in the cold winds. There was always Clyvedon lavender in the storeroom - it would be perfect. He selected a fragrant bunch, pulled on his boots and wrapped himself in layers before stepping out into the snowglobe. The entire world was white and muffled into silence despite the wind that swirled the soft flakes around him. The only sounds were his own breath and the crunching of his footsteps. It was rare to get such a blanketing snowfall, but then again everything seemed strange and out of sorts these days. He moved slowly, a solitary figure dressed in black, picking his way across the blank grounds of Aubrey Hall. His knees creaked. A walk of this distance was hell on his arthritis and he probably needed a cane, which was something you had heckled him about. But he didn’t want to acknowledge his decrepitude, not yet, and he would keep making the journey to visit you, snow, rain or shine.

The tips of his fingers and nose had started to numb by the time he reached the field but he couldn’t be fussed to care. Being there set his mind on other things entirely. A lifetime of memories. The paintings, the wedding, the annual dandelion harvest for the estate’s wine production - a quirky cottage industry you had started which was happily carried on by the subsequent generation of Bridgertons. So much colorful life had played out on the field as if it were a stage. Now muted, the curtains drawn for the winter, it seemed unremarkable, indistinguishable from the others surrounding it. Except for one hallowed corner tucked by the treeline where there was a rise in the snow.

Taking a deep breath, he moved to stand before it. The joyful kaleidoscope of his memories in the field had been fractured when it also became the site of your grave. Then it had grown to be a bittersweet place of memorial. He coped by visiting you every two weeks without fail. He reasoned it was good exercise but he also found something curative in speaking to you, giving you updates on the family, his latest musings and frustrations. But that sense of peace had been threatened by recent events, the kaleidoscope at risk of shattering entirely. Because now he had to adapt to the sight of the new plot beside yours, the freshly turned earth mounded under a light cover of snow.

Anthony heaved a sigh that escaped in mist. He had known it would happen eventually but had never allowed himself to envision it. Selfishly he had hoped to pass first so that he wouldn’t have to bear witness. But Benedict had been so utterly bereft after losing you, moving through life like a walking wound, that it was clear he wouldn’t linger without you for very long. The illness that had marked your final months had drained him of energy. The only fuel he seemed to still possess was the power to love. Anthony knew that if the force of his love could have lengthened your years you would have lived forever, well beyond any of them. Benedict had managed for just over a year, physically depleting while his heart only seemed to grow larger and encompass all of the family that surrounded him. But none of them could mend the hole you had left and at last he had joined you, never waking from a nap in his studio, a half-finished portrait of your younger self before him.

That was two weeks ago and now he had taken his designated spot beside you. When you had known you were facing the end, you and Benedict had requested Anthony’s permission to make the field your final resting place. Though his jaw clenched and his eyes grew haunted, he had immediately agreed. It had given you a degree of comfort in those final, painful days, knowing that you were headed for your favorite place. The irony managed to bring a smile to your face, that you would indeed lay in the field forever as you had imagined doing in such a macabre fashion years ago. You and Benedict had called a number of places home over your years together and had filled each of them with love, but no place was as dear to your hearts as the field and you knew that its private magic would be preserved by the Bridgerton family for generations to come.

Anthony stared at the grave. He was no stranger to grief but it was a new experience to lose a sibling. He supposed he should be grateful that he had held onto them all for as long as he had. But Benedict had left a particular void in his wearying soul. He had not only lost a brother, he had lost his closest friend, his confidante, his advisor. The man with such a magnitude of compassion that it forced his own better nature to show itself. Now without his gentle guidance, Anthony clung to the scant consolation that his brother would always be on the grounds with him. He was grateful that they would be touching the same tracts of earth and he hoped that would help him to channel Benedict somehow, to feel his force in a way that would help him steady the helm of the family for the remainder of his days.

He had never been prone to sentimentality, had never seen any use in being wistful about the past. But as he stood alone in the chilling winds he wished for one thing. He wished he could go back in time to certain happy moments in the hopes that they would soothe the gnawing grief of his present. Any moment spent with you and Benedict would have comforted him, but there were some that stood out as the most vividly joyful. He recalled one autumn when the entire family had gathered at the house. With all of his siblings married, it was becoming something harder and harder to accomplish. But everyone was there with their spouses and children, as well as his mother and her new beau. Looking around at them all, he was overcome by a novel sense of peace, almost as if he had achieved a milestone and could now release some of his anxiety. But the moment was short-lived as he watched you back out of a conversation across the room and slip through the french doors to the terrace. Benedict, Kate and Phillip stared after you awkwardly before Benedict mumbled something and took off in another direction through the house.

Anthony had been worried. It was unlike the two of you to look anything but blissful together and it stung a little that you had run off alone rather than come to him for help. Ever the unshakable leader, he had downplayed whatever was happening and guided everyone to happy distractions. But a fear had lingered. A fear that something was seriously wrong between you and Benedict. A fear that his sense of peace had been misplaced. It grew more insistent as the hours passed but was dispelled entirely when you and Benedict finally returned, glowing, with arms around each other. Your laughter and reassurance had calmed everyone and the family was made whole again. The entire Bridgerton clan gathered around a bright fire, drinks in hand with the children asleep upstairs. Every Bridgerton was entwined with their partner but none so tightly as you and Benedict. There was something reinvigorated in the way you looked at each other, a magnetism so evident that to doubt it felt akin to doubting gravity. It was then that Anthony’s heart settled, sighing contentedly as he wrapped an arm around Kate. His family was safe. His family was happy. And they had their whole lives ahead of them. He wanted to go back to that autumn.

Or if not that autumn, to another treasured day. The day of your and Benedict’s wedding, the first and only one he had officiated. He had been daunted by the request at first but saw it as an opportunity he could not waste to publicly ridicule Benedict. The details of the event were perhaps not to his taste, dressed down literally and figuratively as guests gathered in the field and you and Benedict traipsed in barefoot, the only ornamentation being the natural sea of dandelions and floral arrangements of lilac and lavender. He did his best to whittle you both to the quick, questioning why you had chosen such a starry-eyed sod for a husband, theorizing that you weren’t as clever as he had thought, and so forth until everyone was sore with laughter. But then as he stood between you both, his closest brother and one of his dearest friends, he understood what a great honor it was to join you together. He felt as if he were stitching you into the tapestry of his family. He allowed himself to be sincere in his wishes for your future and didn’t realize he was crying until you handed him your tissue which caused more good-natured laughter. It was a moment and a day he would never forget, gaining you as a sister and knowing for certain that his brother’s sensitive heart would be cared for without fail.

You had been married in May on a day so warm and colorful it seemed impossible that it had occurred in the same white wasteland where he now found himself. If he couldn’t travel to the past maybe he just needed to carry on until next May. Then he could visit you on your anniversary. He pledged that he would make an occasion of it and would bring brighter bouquets of flowers. But for now all he had was the lavender and he knew he needed to start making his way back to the house. The cold was sinking in and it was a long trek.

He murmured a few sentences, news he thought you should know and sentiments to Benedict that he wished he had said before. He hovered over the marker, a single stone laid deep in the grass, inconspicuous but enduring. No names, no dates, just a stanza Benedict had written after you passed. Anthony kicked the snow away then bent to brush the words clear with a hand. He placed the lavender alongside and paused to read them as he had so many times before.

Of all the flowers in the field You alone were sweetest Of all the joys my life would know Your love would be the deepest

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @colettebronte

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #female reader #modern au #romance #grief

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telekinetictrait · 8 months

Text

"I am the foam that sweeps and fills the uttermost rims of the rocks with whiteness; I am also a girl, here in this room." (The Waves – Virginia Woolf, 1931)

in stark contrast to the boxy androgyny of the 1920s was the demure femininity of the 1930s. despite the economic turmoil that swept the world, fashion was influenced by the growing world of film and hollywood. hemlines fell back down the legs, typically between the knees and the ankles, and necklines rose further up. some women during the great depression would actually make clothing out of flour sacks, which led to flour companies beginning to print patterns on their sacks in order to draw in more customers. as more income was required to support a family, more women entered into the workforce – and so more women began to turn to casual clothing that was easier to work in, including more pants. certain clothing companies began tailoring pants specifically for women's wear, but you still wouldn't see women wearing trousers as much as you would see women wearing dresses or skirts.

(also, there was a period of nautical-inspired fashion starting in the 30s that would last through about the 60s. kind of random, but i just wanted to mention it.)

expect posts to be a bit more spread out, because i'm actually moving soon and starting the school year!

1800’s / 1900-1909 / 1910-1919 / 1920-1929

cc tags under the cut :)

see my resources page for genetics!

natalie : imvikai's fae hair / eco lifestyle dress / base game stockings / base game shoes

nessie : simarillion's mulled wine hair / poanl's maple hat / base game earrings / huiernxoxo's sophie set / base game gloves / base game stockings / cupidjuice's mary janes

nhora : birksche's 30's hair / gilded-ghosts' absolutely tilt-illating hat + sweet shopgirl dress / needleworkreve's bette davis eyeshadow + marlene lipstick / horse ranch gloves / base game stockings / base game saddle shoes

nicolet : historysims4's 1933/zurich hair / base game earrings / twentiethcenturysims' mae dress / blueraptorsden’s vintage stockings / paranormal shoes

njóla : get together braid / needleworkreve's bette davis eyeshadow / chere-indolente's josephine lipstick / base game earrings / cottage living necklace / gilded-ghosts' moderne muse dress / base game stockings / waxesnostalgic's pickypikachu peaky booties recolor

noelle : vroshii's 30's hair / twentiethcenturysims' eleanor dress / base game stockings / waxesnostalgic's saddle shoes recolor

ntiana : wildlyminiaturesandwich's newt hair / sforzcc's dawn dress / base game stockings + boots

nuncia : simarillion's mulled wine hair / cottage living hat / get together top / ekinege-sims retro reboot sailor pants (tsr download) / base game boots

n'veah : vroshii's more 30s curls hair / happylifesims' female late autumn outfit #1 / plumbjam’s wool leggings / waxesnostalgic's pickypikachu peaky booties recolor

nymphadora : marsosims' reyna hair / gohliad's late 30's prairie dress / base game stockings / waxesnostalgic's pickypikachu peaky booties recolor

thank you to @imvikai @poanl @huiernxoxo @birksche @gilded-ghosts @needleworkreve @historysims4 @twentiethcenturysims @blueraptorsden @chere-indolente @waxesnostalgic @vroshii @wildlyminiaturesandwich @ekinege-sims @happylifesimsreblogs and @marsosims !!!

#my sims #sims 4 lookbook #ts4 lookbook #ts4lookbook #sims 4 historical lookbook #ts4 historical lookbook #sims 4 1930s #ts4 1930s #223 years #cc finds #historical #1930s

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promiscuouspomegranate · 7 months

Note

hihi!! sorry if you already have requests or if you’re busy!

could you write a story about a poor fem reader who meets a rich noble? probably not something modern but not too ancient. idc if it’s the stereotypical “omg an injured sexy prince on the side of the road!! let me bring him back to my cottage and feed him stone soup because i am so sickly and poor!!”

thank you !! 🩵🩵🩵

Aching Autumn

Fem reader • Prince Thatcher

TWs: Abduction, Mentions of starvation, Poor living conditions, Reader gets death threats, Thatcher is rude, Violence, + Reader gets her fingers dirty.

(This is my first request I’m literally foaming at the mouth cackling crying sobbing and so HAPPY!! THANK TAHK YOU!! I worked on this a bit and I think it turned out well. If you have ivory skin or locks of gold.. my bad 💔 Feel free to let me know if you wanted anything else. Sorry if it isn’t that good… this is my first time writing in a while 😭)

Although the seasons changed, it seemed the conditions I lived in were stagnant, from the cruel, cold winters that frosted my lips and gnawed at my fingers to sweet spring days that warmed my heart and soothed my soul. It seemed I was destined to live a life of poverty and hunger. After all, what could the bastard daughter of a drunkard wanton accomplish other than lamenting on the town streets of what could have been?

On this particular autumn evening, there was an ache in my heart; no words of comfort or looks of pity could soothe, for I saw the man who was supposed to be my father holding a child with golden hair and ivory skin–something I never had. I tried to elevate myself above the town gossip, but when I heard his name, I knew I had to see it with my own eyes. I needed to see my replacement. He smiled at the child, and I could feel bitter tears streaming down my ragged face.

“My father… You are supposed to be mine. Not that stupid angelic creature who you hold so dearly,” I bit my thumb and stared into the window, “You horrible man! You are my father!”

My father glanced out the window, and I felt my heart shatter when his face contorted into pure disgust. I emptily stared at him and pressed my hand against the glass. That child of his and some refined lady had stolen my leisurely life. I gently knocked on the glass and begged to be let inside. The baby began to sob, and the curtains were drawn. The front door opened, and I was violently dragged into the streets by my father.

“I told her to keep you away from me,” He furiously whispered and tightly grabbed my arm, “You are not welcome near my home. You are no child of mine.”

“But I am! I came from you and will always be a part of you, please,” I cried and pleaded with him, “If I were given an opportunity to clean myself up and become a member of society, I swear I could–”

Before I could finish my sentence, I was thrown into the road and kicked in the stomach.

“You will have to seek your opportunities elsewhere,” My father stepped back and glared, “Perhaps you could sell yourself the way your mother does. You’ll gather enough money to raise a regret of your own.”

He abandoned me, the same way he did when I was nine, slowly and cruelly. Savoring every moment of my cries for him to stay with me and ignoring my presence like I was the wind blowing on his back.

“Horrible man,” I muttered to myself when he was gone once more, “I hope the child dies in his arms and he can feel half the misery that I know.”

I brushed the excess dirt off my dress and readjusted my crimson scarf. I ambled through the town and arrived at the front of my dilapidated building. I decided I had encountered sorrow once too many today and went to the woods bordering my home.

“What I would give, if I had anything of value, to soar in the sky with the doves,” I squinted as they fluttered by, “How lovely.”

The mourning doves called out to each other and perched on pine branches. They hid themselves from me, and I strolled deeper into the woods. I ignored posted signs and warnings to the common people to stay out of the Queen’s forest. I hardly believed it was her land; she had never stepped in the forest. What right did she have to claim what she couldn’t see?

“I suppose it must be nice to claim things as you please,” I felt myself slip into my fantasy of grandeur and smiled, “I would claim the whole world if I were Queen.”

I pretended that the trees curtseyed and bowed as I strolled by. I straightened my posture and pretended the birds were my people. I politely waved and smiled like a queen would–delightfully and regally.

“Oh, I suppose these flowers are for me? Why, thank you, little girl,” I went down and picked what I assumed were wildflowers from the forest floor, “They will look lovely in my crystal vase by the stained glass window. The sunshine yellows would make a lovely spring gown.”

I hummed to myself and stooped down to pick more flowers. I carefully selected each one, though each flower seemed perfectly grown. I selected each by how strong the fragrance was; the more robust the scent, the more I could sell them for in the town.

“I wonder what kind of flower these are? I haven’t seen anything as beautiful growing in the forest before,” I murmured and put one in my hair, “I’ll gather one to replant in front of home.”

I had only begun to uproot the flower when I heard the galloping of stallions and the blasting sound of brass horns. I paid no attention; usually, the royalty stuck to a particular path to hunt the Queen’s favorite animals–ruby red cardinals, acorn brown deer freckled with pearly dots, and soot black bears. I heard the bloodhounds howling as the galloping began to fade into the ambiance of the forest.

I finished uprooting the flower and placed it with the others. I felt something lick my hand and gasped. I saw a bloodhound lazily resting beside me, panting and stupidly staring at me. It licked my hand again, and I pulled my hand away from the dog.

“Stay back,” I demanded but looked nervous, “I’ll.. well, I don’t exactly know what I would do to you.”

I cautiously reached my hand out and placed it on the dog’s head. I began to stroke behind its ears gently and smiled.

“I suppose you’re not that scary,” I mumbled and looked for a tag, “It appears the Queen hasn’t claimed you. Perhaps I will make you my own.”

I took my scarf off and wrapped it around the dog’s neck. I felt joy when it stared at me and rested its head on my lap.

“Such a beautiful thing, aren’t you? You can be my dog since the hunters are so careless,” I squeezed it and sighed, “Yet, I fear you don’t understand a thing I am saying. You probably will run from me the second you see your owner.”

The dog began to howl, and I felt alarmed as the galloping returned. I tried my best to soothe the dog into silence, but it persisted upon howling. I turned around and saw stallions charging toward me. I scooped the dog up, grabbed a flower or two, and sprinted through the woods. I heard men shouting after me, demanding I stop in the name of the Queen. I felt terrified and ran to the frantic beat of my heart.

Yet, no matter how fast I was to run, the horses would always defeat me. I was cornered by nobility and froze in fear. The other bloodhounds were growling at me, and I set mine on the forest floor.

“What an odd combination of bird and tiger. The cowardice of a bird to take flight and the boldness of a tiger to try and outrun horses and your fate,” A man wearing a green cloak frowned upon me–he seemed repulsed by my sight, “Speak, peasant. Make your last words something interesting.”

Promptly, he aimed his rifle at me, and I began to sob in fear.

“Brother, put your rifle down. The woman is clearly lost; why else would she be in these woods? Pity the poor thing and don’t frighten her,” A man wearing a brown cloak intervened–his eyes seemed gentle and welcoming.

“Einarr, could you spare your false sympathies? Not only has she racked up enough crime to be a prisoner in hell as well as Earth, but she also trampled through mother’s flower garden,” He scoffed and put his rifle aside, “It’s either I put her out of her misery now, or mother decides to stroll through the forest and sees her garden missing flowers then makes the whole country suffer her wrath.”

“Thatcher, you seem to forget about our mother’s kind nature. How, if a flower or two went missing, she would smile and think of the beautiful creature that wandered into her garden and was able to appreciate beauty,” Einarr dismounted his horse and clutched its reigns.

“Beautiful creature? I’ve seen more beauty in war than I have her ragged face,” Thatcher dismounted his horse and approached Einarr, “I am assuming this is your attempt at humoring me, so I spare her.”

The two seem more occupied with arguing than dealing with me. I wiped my tears away and fell to the floor. I could feel their eyes burning into my skin as I weakly opened my mouth.

“Forgive my insolence, Your Majesties. I never meant to cause such trouble and ruin your hunt. It is true I wandered into the forest and got lost along the way,” I prayed nothing would ruin my lie, “It tattered my dress and face; I find myself quite weary. I never will step foot in the woods again if it means you so graciously spare my life.”

I heard chuckling from one of the princes and poked my head up. I saw Thatcher terribly trying to mask his amusement as Einarr glared at him.

“Ah! For an ill-bred lady of low rank, she manages the audacity to ask favors from us? Say, do you think you’re more nobility than we are to make such demands? I will fetch your golden crown and scepter, and Einarr will–”

“That is enough, brother. Clearly, she is more worthy of a crown than you are. Such gentleness and kindness despite the cruelty of her circumstance,” Einarr approached me and kneeled to my level, “What is your name? I must know, or I fear I will go mad.”

“Y / N,” I sputtered out and felt breathless, “I am no lady, your majesty. I am only a bastard daughter who managed to lose herself to the perplexities of the woods.

“Einarr, you should be more careful around the animal. She might be rabid and contaminate you with the unforgiving disease of poverty,” Thatcher followed behind Einarr and shoved him aside, “Besides, shouldn’t the heir of the kingdom be at a diplomatic meeting?”

“I suppose you are right about something, Thatcher,” Einarr mounted his horse again and stared at me, “Farewell, Lady Y / N.”

Einarr rode away, and the dogs followed behind him, except for the one I called my own. It was lying beside me, and Thatcher seemed unamused.

“Eris, do not lay with her. Come, girl,” He demanded and crossed his arms, “I said come!”

Eris seemed content lying beside me, to Thatcher’s dismay. He noticed the scarf wrapped around her neck and glared at me.

“You... You were going to steal my dog, weren’t you? You wretched woman,” He clenched his fists and pulled me up, “How dare you steal so much from your providers?”

“I apologize, Your Majesty! I thought the dog was unclaimed and–”

“Silence! Einarr may be foolish enough to entertain your words, but I will have none of it,” He tightly gripped my arm and frowned at me, “Not even death will be enough to punish your crimes. You deserve to be tortured among the criminals of your dastardly rank.”

I felt my lip quiver as his auburn eyes searched into the darkest corners of my heart.

“Yet, even the most painful torture is not fit for you. No, I will choose your suffering myself,” He led me to his horse and forced me to mount it, “I will decide your fate, Y / N.”

He hopped up, wrapped his arms around me, and tightly gripped the reigns. I felt my heart pound as he rode away from the forest.

“Are.. are you going to kill me? Please, just put me out of my misery now,” I begged and felt nauseated.

“I am going to give you a fate worse than death,” He whispered in my ear, “Your fate is intertwined with mine now. Enjoy the scenery of the forest, for I fear this is the last time you’ll see it up close.”

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere writing #yandere character #yandere prince #yandere oneshot #dark romance #☆–Thatcher #yandere royalty

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dominimoonbeam · 4 months

Text

Bite to Bruise - 28

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: modern-fantasy mashup, werewolves, witches, monsters, romance, learning to trust, hurt/comfort, blood, violence, explicit sex, explicit language

The earlier parts can be found under the tag or over on patreon. <3

BITE TO BRUISE - CHAPTER 28.

Bellamy sat on the floor, legs crossed and fingers tracing loops on the doorframe.

She didn’t realize she was humming at first. It wasn’t really her. It was the echo of something in the craft. The first time she had portalled had been an accident, an act of desperation, that took her from the arms of danger and dropped her in the autumn cold of the woods.

She still remembered that deep loneliness and betrayal woven into pain and bloodshed. She had pressed her little cheek to the icy ground, looking for solace. The roots and dirt sang to her, soothing, coming out as a hum in her own throat.

It took her years to learn to portal at will, to turn that reflex into a reliable ability.

Ever sat on the floor of the room with her, his back to the wall and his eyes on her every move. He had asked how she did what she did, and she had tried to explain. It came out a lot like a bird trying to explain flying, though. There was no science to it that they knew. They flew because they had wings and it was either that or fall.

She wove magic because it was in her to do it, and it was either that or die. The magic had to come out and her ability grew stronger with every use. It wasn’t a well that could be tapped. It was her. Like muscle. Use it or lose it. Lose it and die.

“Will you need to work on it from the other side?” he asked.

Bellamy nodded. “Soon.” She took her hand away from the frame and sighed. She could see the spellcraft on the door, but she knew he couldn’t. She wasn’t sure anyone but another witch could see it. Maybe the midnights and the sunrisen? Maybe not. Midnights had been known to have their own magic, something even stranger than hers. But there had never been any stories about sunrisen magic, not as craft anyway. It was hard not to call their abilities magic, though. They flew, after all. Some with wings of feathers and some with wings of light, and they were known to wield weapons just as intangible to other hands. What was that, if not a sort of magic?

She sighed and turned to look at her wolf. He was waiting for her gaze, like he had known it was coming his way—or maybe he had just been watching her all that time.

“I had an idea,” Bellamy said.

Ever raised an eyebrow, his mouth quirking with a smile.

Bellamy rolled onto her knees and crawled that short distance to him, resettling in his lap, facing him.

The quirk was a full smile now, his arms around her waist. “If your idea is to fuck in my brother’s room, I think I’m finally going to disappoint you…”

Bellamy laughed, her arms curling around the back of his neck. “No. I was thinking we could try warding some of the houses against shades, so they can’t get inside. Of course, there are obvious risks…”

“Such as?”

Bellamy frowned. “Well, if they have the time, they might just knock the house down or burn it… No ward would stop them from being able to do that and once the certain beams were broken, the ward would fall.”

Ever frowned. That was a risk, but at least it would come with a warning, as opposed to shades simply walking into their homes. “Why didn’t you ward your cottage against them, if it’s something you can do?” She clearly hadn’t, since Soren had tossed the little place looking for Piper.

Bellamy ran her fingertips along the back of his neck. “I’d need shade blood to create a ward like that. …A lot of shade blood, actually.”

Ever’s hands reflexively squeezed her hips, but his yellow eyes considered it.

“We can dig up Soren when the ground thaws, if you’re willing to try making the wards for us, that is.”

Soren. She resisted the urge to rub at the side of her neck. The bruising from his bites were almost gone, but the cuts were still healing. She didn’t like the idea of releasing him from his grave even if it was just to bleed him for a while before putting him back. He knew what she was. If he got loose…

“We don’t have to do it,” Ever said, somehow reading her worry on her face. And then he grinned, wolfish. “Or we could find a new shade. From the sound of things, it shouldn’t be hard to get our hands on another one.”

Bellamy wrinkled her nose. Blackwell and Primrose. Ever had told her about the call and his current situation with Florian Blackwell.

Florian had been the same shade looking for that box with the midnight curse on it, the one leaving deep scars curling up her arm. Bellamy wished she had been nosier as a seeker of lost things… It might help to know now what had been inside that damned box.

If she wasn’t such a coward, could she do more than just ward houses for Ever? If she wasn’t so scared of the shades realizing what she was and where she was, could she protect them? Had she ever been able to do anything more than run?

Ever fingered her hair back from her face, stroking her scalp. “Come back,” he whispered.

She blinked, meeting those deep yellow eyes and realizing that she’d been too deep in thought.

He smiled gently. “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere,” she lied.

He touched her neck and dragged a thumb across her jaw. “If the shades come again, you can portal, right? You can go to that house of yours on the sea.”

She stared at him. Was he really giving her permission to run? To abandon him when the next threat came?

Of course, he was.

The real question was, when had she stopped wanting to run?

He cupped her cheek, like she was precious. “Drop the glamour for me?” he asked so softly.

For a second, she thought she’d misheard him. “Why?”

He sighed, his other hand still on her hip, his thumb rolling circled against her skin not unlike the circles she’d been tracing into her spell. Was her wolf a witch, enchanting her? It felt like it sometimes. “I want to kiss you.”

Bellamy grinned. “Then kiss me. These lips are better.”

The last hints of his smile faded.

She leaned back to look at his whole face, his whole expression. That crease was in his brow—the one he got when he was worried or overthinking something. “This glamour doesn’t cost me anything to hold up,” she said. It wasn’t entirely true but it wasn’t a complete lie either. It didn’t cost her much. She had built it off herself so long ago that it was second nature to hold it up. It was more than a mask. It was her to some extent. “It’s not a falsehood or a stolen face,” she tried to explain. It wasn’t like when she had pretended to be Piper.

Ever watched her carefully, nodding slowly. He still had a hand to the side of her face, fingertips ghosting against skin. “And I love it. This face, this skin, this body you made. They are beautiful and they are you, Bellamy. But you made this to survive, right? To hide?”

She unlaced her arms from around his neck, sitting taller in his lap. Her hands settled against his chest, not completely retracting from him. She could lie. It wasn’t like he would call her on it. But what was the point if she did? She had created Bellamy to give herself a safe way to interact with the world—a way to hide Wren. And now? Wren was still her, that broken face and scarred body was hers, always. She had still worn it when she was alone. But it had become a secret, something to hide.

“You don’t have to,” Ever said, watching her think with those cunning fenrir eyes.

“I know that,” she snapped, but it was toothless.

His hand settled against the side of her neck, as if covering that healed bite with his palm. He wouldn’t even be able to feel the scabs with her glamour up.

“You’ve seen it,” Bellamy countered. He had seen her true form more than anyone else in her adult life.

“You,” he corrected gently. “I’ve seen you.”

“So why do you want to look again? If you’re worried about the wounds, they’re mostly healed. I told you—”

“I want to kiss you.”

She stared at him, his eyes and then his mouth and then back to his eyes.

That quirk of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

She smirked back. “Well, I promise, this mouth is better for that.”

His almost-smile fell. “Why?”

The icy wind outside battered the wall and rattled the window in its frame.

“You don’t have to share Wren with me,” Ever said. “But I want you to know you can. I’ve seen you, witch.” He touched her mouth, fingertip stroking her bottom lip over a scar he could not possibly feel through this glamour down to where it ended on her chin. Had he memorized it from those moments he’d seen her true face? “You are devastating in every form you take.”

Devastating.

She shivered. Yes. She felt devastating. How did he make that sound good?

Bellamy stood up and stepped back.

His arms unraveled from her, never even trying to stop her from breaking contact.

His head rolled back against the wall to look up at her standing over him like it was the most natural thing.

She swallowed down her hesitations and held out her hand for him.

He took it and rose to his feet, letting her lead him out of Sunny’s old bedroom and down the hall, to his.

It was easier to drop the glamour with her back to him, to lose height between steps, her legs shorter and paler, his shirt suddenly larger on her body.

She tried not to look down at herself—tried not to think about it—but it was impossible. She was cataloguing the ruin of her body as he might not be seeing it.

That deep scar down her thigh, puckering skin and ending at her knee. She’d gotten into a scrap when she was a teen with some rays and fallen hard, portaling in a panic only to come out the other end tumbling down a rocky hillside. She’d gotten the cut from the rocks, not the rays. If she’d held her ground rather than run away, she might have saved herself from that one. Or she might have died… Hard to say in hindsight.

His thumb stroked the back of her knuckles, one less finger in his hand.

Most of her scars had stories attached, good ones, wild ones. She had seen most of the world and gotten in trouble just about everywhere she went. She was a seeker, after all. She found lost things, sometimes lost people. Her favorite hunts had been for intangible things, songs and words lost by immortals. She had a card for just about every library with public access and a few private ones too. But she’d never told anyone any of those stories.

They walked into his bedroom and he kicked the door shut with a soft click, his fingers gently touching her hair and sending a wave of chills down her spine. Why did it feel different? It was the same hair, just black now and flatter.

He had seen her before, but a part of her still hesitated to face him.

Her face had been a secret since she was a child.

It was hers. Precious only to her. Her body was covered in the receipts of a secret life. Bellamy had no scars because nothing could hurt her—nothing could ever really touch her. But Wren? Wren had felt everything. Wren remembered everything. Wren had been broken over and over, often healing wrong. Her cheekbone was misshapen and the bridge of her nose had a crook. She’d been young then and hadn’t known to try to set anything straight. She’d been too scared to touch those breaks, afraid of the pain.

With a sigh, she let go of his hand, dragging it through her hair like there was any way to change this moment. He had asked. He had wanted to see her. If he rejected her now… Well, she would do what she was great at. She would run. But even in her own mind, behind the walls of denial, she knew there would be a heartbreak she could never outrun.

She turned around, like it was nothing, like she wasn’t a coward, and he wasn’t gorgeous staring down at her ruined form. Wren. Devastation was right.

She crossed one arm under her smaller breasts, grabbing hold of her other arm above the bandages. They weren’t as thick as they had been just a few days ago. The deep cuts from the iron curse were healing well. She’d leave off the bandage in a few days to let those scabs finish healing in open air.

The shirt she wore hung off one boney shoulder.

Ever didn’t turn his attention immediately to the healing wound on her neck like he had the last time she let him see through her glamour. This wasn’t the same. This wasn’t about making sure she was patched up. She hadn’t realized until his gaze started freely roaming her skin, that he had tried not to before.

A couple times she thought for sure he’d ask about a scar and was surprised to realize how much she wanted to tell him those stories. Adventures and close calls. No one had ever caught or caged her, not since Baron and she hadn’t known she was caged then.

Her skin rose and tingled everywhere his gaze went.

He brought his hand up slowly to her face, fingertips pushing aside black hair and his thumb gently tracing the misshapen bone in her nose and then the other in her cheek. He had seen these when they were fresh. She had gotten them in the struggle with Baron, or maybe in the aftermath when she brought down the ceiling. It was a haze of panic, betrayal, and pain to her now. And then that same thumb returned to her mouth, ghosting over the thick scar there in her bottom lip down to her chin.

Wren turned her face up, not down. She parted her lips and drew a breath to answer that unspoken question about where, when, and how.

Ever leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t the slow lean and linger where he’d wait for her to close the distance and kiss him like he’d done so many times before. It wasn’t a quiet offer or a tentative reassurance. He kissed her like he’d been searching for her and afraid he’d never find her.

It tasted like desperation, breathing life into a part of her she didn’t know was dying.

She grabbed at his shoulders, practically pulling herself up him. His arms were there, quick to wrap around and lift her against him. Nothing significant had changed about how he touched her. There was no unease or new caution. They kissed like they hadn’t been doing exactly this every day since the snowfall began, like they’d both been deprived for too long.

In a few steps, he was dropping forward with her onto the bed, her arms still around the back of his neck when she landed on the mattress. He sucked and licked at the scar in her lip before finally breaking the kiss to pull her shirt up and off of her, leaving her in nothing but a pair of underwear on his bed beneath him.

He pushed her back flat, those yellow eyes darting over her skin.

Ever leaned down, pressing his face to her sternum, between her small breasts, and dragged in a deep breath like he was trying to fill his lungs with her. The mattress on either side of her groaned with the phantom of his wolf, a low rumble in his chest and vibrating from his mouth into her skin as he dragged his lips lower.

She realized he was scenting her without that layer of the glamour over her, masking her.

Wren shivered at that new and intoxicating sense of exposure.

He groaned against her stomach and curled fingers into her underwear, dragging them off her. He licked that deep scar in her thigh, and then ghosted teeth across her hip, making her gasp and squirm, one hand shooting down to burying digits in his hair.

Before she could ask a question she damn well knew the answer to, he had his face between her thighs and his tongue inside her.

The witch arched, eyes closing and fingers twisting in his hair.

He pushed his tongue deeper and rumbled another eager growl, making her shudder.

#Bite to Bruise #werewolf romance #monster romance #werewolf x witch #modern fantasy world #own world #own characters #dominimoonbeam #<3 #clover down #romance

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soniadiez · 1 year

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somesortofitalianroast · 5 months

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Autumn in Vermont

Title: Autumn in Vermont Link: AO3 Participant: SomeSortofItalianRoast Square filled: -Bucky Barnes Bingo: B2: Denial (Card B023) (Chapter 1) -Darcy Lewis Bingo: A2: AirBnB Mixup (Chapter 1) -Warm and Fluffy Bingo: B5: “This is stupid, I’m in” (Chapter 1) -Bucky Barnes Bingo: U5: Music (Card B023) (Chapter 2) -Darcy Lewis Bingo: A Long Autumn Walk (Chapter 2) -Darcy Lewis Bingo: Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble: Fall (University) Break (Chapter 2) -Warm and Fluffy Bingo: G4: Accidental Kiss (Chapter 2) -Bucky Barnes Bingo: Adopted: Enemies to Lovers (Card B023) (Chapter 3) -Darcy Lewis Bingo: R2: Opposites Attract (Chapter 3) -Year of the OTP: November: music/band au Archive warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Rating: Mature Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Musician Bucky Barnes, Musician Darcy Lewis, Age Difference, Meet-Cute, Silver Fox Bucky Barnes, Accidental Kissing, Celebrities Word Count: -1,729 (chapter 1) -1,442 (chapter 2) -827 (chapter 3) -3998 (total) Summary: Former rock star James “Bucky” Barnes hasn't had a hit since the '80s. And, suddenly, tween/teen pop sensation Stella covers his one hit song. He's pissed that her record company didn’t ask his permission, but his manager, Steve Rogers, realizes that they're sitting on a potential gold mine of angsty rock ballads, sets up a 'comeback tour'. Needing more songs, Steve books Bucky into a house in a small town in the hopes he can maybe write some more songs to sell before the tour really starts.

Darcy Lewis is fresh off a bad breakup. With her ex’s parting shots ringing in her ears, she books a house in a small town in the hopes that she can get over her breakup, and maybe write a few songs of her own before her next album tour. She can’t keep covering rock ballads forever. Except, there’s someone at the cottage. A grumpy older man, who looks shockingly like the former lead singer of The Winter Soldier. As a tween/teen star, Darcy can never publicly admit that she has a soft spot for silver foxes, unless it’s Mark Harmon, since everyone has a soft spot for him.

Forced to share the cottage, it’s hate at first sight. Until it's unresolved sexual tension. Until…

@buckybarnesbingo @darcylewisbingohq @warmandfluffybingocards @yearoftheotpevent

#my writing #bucky barnes #bucky barnes bingo #darcy lewis #darcy lewis bingo #warm and fluffy bingo #year of the otp

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dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd · 8 months

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Charles Walton - Killed for Communicating with Animals?

The murder of Charles Walton is considered the last witch killing in the United Kingdom. The 74-year-old farm labourer was found dead on Valentine’s Day 1945, his neck cut open and the prongs of a pitchfork jammed through his throat, pinning him to the ground. A rude cross had been carved into his chest.

Walton, who had resided in the village of Lower Quinton in Warwickshire, England all his life and was apparently well-known in the area, had nonetheless sometimes been considered odd. To some, he was just the simple farm laborer he appeared to be, but other local residents believed he had been “stained” by a childhood encounter with a mysterious black dog—and some considered him a warlock. The British Islands and especially England have a long and tarnished history of witches and witch killings, and the Cotswolds, that hilly area of south central England in which Lower Quinton is located, has a well-earned “historical and modern reputation for the practice of witchcraft.”

A widower, Walton shared a small cottage with his 33-year-old niece, Edith Isabel Walton, who he had adopted 30 years earlier when her mother died. Walton was a loner who did not socialize much with other villagers. He seemed to be more comfortable with animals and had developed a reputation as a good trainer of horses. He was not disliked in the community, but rumors about him circulated among at least some of his fellow villagers who gossiped that wild birds ate out of his hand and dogs were attracted to him, that he raised giant toads and practiced horse-whispering, a dark art that allowed him to communicate with animals. Some of his neighbors held him responsible for the poor crops the following autumn had produced despite weather that should have brought a lush harvest.

On February 14, 1945, he was seen to leave his cottage with a pitchfork and a slash hook (a curved blade on a rod used in pruning) and to have limped—he walked with a cane—through the village between 9 and 9:30 a.m. He was not regularly employed and sought out casual farm labor as it became available. For several months, however, he had been working for Alfred Potter who managed a farm known as The Firs. On this day, Walton was known to be heading out to cut back hedges in a field known as Hillground on the slopes of Meon Hill. Potter would later describe Walton as "inoffensive type of man but one who would speak his mind if necessary." When Walton did not return home at the expected time that afternoon, Edith Walton and a neighbor went to The Firs where they enlisted Potter, and the three went to the field where Walton had been working. There they found Walton’s body. He had been beaten over the head, apparently with his own cane, and his neck had been cut open with his slash hook. The pitchfork had been jammed into the ground with prongs on each side of Walton’s neck pinning his body to the ground and its handle wedged under the nearby hedges, probably to keep it in place. The slash hook had been left in Walton’s neck.

Early accounts, though this was not repeated later in the case, also said a rude cross had been carved in his chest—probably with the slash hook. This was not unusual. Other alleged witch killings in which people were murdered by those who believed they had been cursed or given the evil eye often included such a carved cross on the body of the dead witch. Scotland Yard was quickly brought into the case, and Chief Inspector Robert Fabian of Scotland Yard was sent out from London to investigate. The killing, he concluded, was “clearly the ghastly climax of a pagan rite.”

Fabian also mentioned several times in later years that he had met “a wall of silence” when he tried speaking with residents of the area. "The natives of Upper and Lower Quinton and the surrounding district are of a secretive disposition,” he said, “and they do not take easily to strangers.” A British television reporter who took a look at the case 50 years after Fabian’s remarks seemed to have encountered the same stonewalling. “The people (of Lower Quinton) I spoke to were friendly,” he said, “but impenetrably tight-lipped.” Was there perhaps a village-wide conspiracy to rid Lower Quinton of Walton?

No one was ever charged in the killing of Charles Walton. And no one knows what really happened at the base of Meon Hill that Valentine’s Day 70 years ago. Was a Cotswold witch killed or simply a quiet man who was kind to animals? His killer or killers are the only ones who know what happened. They are also the only ones—if even they know—why it happened.

#Charles Walton #witch #witchcraft #unsolved #cold cases

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bebemoon · 2 years

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outfit masterlist~

22.o3.22

evil winx club

urban + solitude

cream + fresh + cherry

alien

modern medusa

ice + moon + curse

gentle witch of the wood

fire + sun + deity

swim practice

budding mage

hemithea aestivaria moth

light-dappled

silver galleon centrepiece

“the girl who became a knight”

night-clubbing in an alien metropolis

spring tea in the garden

cupid (princesscore version)

“the nymph of the garden“

waking in the middle of a stormy night to explore the castle corridors ..

“aphrodite wants everyone to remember she is a goddess of war too”

“going shopping in an ancient carthaginian market”

star + angel + light + silver

“starlit prom in late june”

the goblin king queen

“exploring a marketplace on an alien world”

“catching a train and leaving your old life behind”

“blush pink city romance”

“autumn elopement with a ghost”

“eating your heart out"

“cinderella at a high school dance”

aunt spiker

poe dameron

“visiting a garden in late july”

“ancient queen sleeping under a misty hill”

“binge-watching bad television with a tub of ice cream”

disco vampire

“dancer on the edge”

milkmaid

“new office job and i am barely holding it together”

“sleek bacchante”

“winx club meets euphoria”

“tropical holiday on crystal, clear waters”

“early morning delicate beauty”

snowdrop + black licorice

“attending your lover’s execution”

“living in a stone cottage by the stormy sea”

“getting to know the vampires of southern italy”

forgotten rococo porcelain doll

thomasin

“rococo-inspired femme fatale“

“watching the slaughter of trojans and strong-greaved achaeans from the walls alongside helen“

“dragon hunting in the fjords”

shieldmaiden

“spring in genovia”

“blood moon witch”

“the illicit daughter of a romanov grand duchess and rasputin“

elizabeth báthory

“disappearing into the mountains to never be seen again”

“wlw victorian lady who lives in a cottage with her gf”

“gilded age heiress with a rebellious streak and sapphic tendencies”

“siren who swims in silver waters in a snowy land”

“attending a princess’ baptism (self-invited)”

blind date on the moon

anna pavlova

“femme fatale monster-killer from an alternate reality”

“taking a walk on a foggy black sand beach”

“juno the mafia daughter”

“artist who speaks to fairies”

padmé naberrie

“grimoire librarian”

“ana mendieta’s ‘silueta’ series”

ofelia/princess moanna

#~organisation~#links #outfits #personal #prompts #keywords #character style #long post #masterlist #queue

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dailyunsolvedmysteries · 1 year

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Charles Walton - Killed for Communicating with Animals?

#Charles Walton #witch #witchcraft #unsolved #cold cases

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