#moth wc oc

[imagination-confusion]

I have drawn my children from my fanfiction Near the Brink. More coming soon! I gotta draw Cornstalk. That dude is a great guy but in a bad clan.

Anyways I rightfully hate Coyotesnap and Bumblestar UwU

I dunno guys Bumblestar is kind of worse than most villains I see in media. Don't @ me I may be wrong.

Anyways have some more memes provided by my Discord friend Kracken who enjoyed the story a lot xD

A meme I made

#warriors ocs #warrior cats fanfiction #warrior cats memes #coyotesnap wc oc #bumblestar wc oc #moth wc oc #bug wc oc #kit makes text posts #patchwork ocs

[dapplemoth]

Drawing more Clangen cats. Aquaclan is my newest clan.

#Warrior Cats #clangen #warrior cats oc #wc oc #wc #moths art

[tide--clan]

Moon II

#warrior cats oc #warrior cats clangen #warrior cats #wc clangen #Tide_clan moons #cliffscar carrying around a flippin tree trunk #like ok #dont mind the artstyl inconsistently #i made them all like a moth apart #cleaning out the training hallow.. #sunpaw #spikepaw #cliffscar #coralheart

[driftkits-moth-net]

Driftkit and Jerry doodle

#driftkit #Jerry the moth #mommyclan #mommyclan art #wc oc

[nocturneclan]

moon five and nocturneclan

#warrior cats #warriors #clangen #nocturneclan #cats #wc #warriors oc #warrior cats art #violethawk #lilyleaf #moth twist #daisythorn #mousekit

[hypokitsfactory]

I'm gonna be the first to request hypo kits >:3 Dust Muzzle x Storm Pelt kits please! Love this pairing even if there is no canon reason for its existence XD

i don’t know anything about dotc but i like these guys. i think they’d be really close as brothers. also sorry if the names aren’t formatted right i really haven’t read dotc

#warrior cats #hypokits #wc ocs #dawn of the clans #storm pelt #dust muzzle #windclan #i think? #idk where storm pelt is from but dust muzzle is moth flights brother correct? #also pls ignore that i posted this one second i just had Ideas for the one i posted first #my art

[sharkenthusiasm]

wooohooo feathertail design I love her so very much!! a shadow in riverclan is still my favorite graphic novel of the series, i love this fluffy girl!!!

I’m also super proud of how the stripes and other markings turned out, since I usually struggle with them. very happy with how this turned out overall, especially that giant tail!!

my designs are free to use with credit btw!

#warriors #warrior cats #wc #wc oc #feathertail #a shadow in riverclan #moths designs #wc designs #warrior cats designs

[latemarchblues]

Vibrantstatic, beloved and most remembered leader of the Moths in a long, long time<3. (aka my little meow meow, my little scrunkly<3)

#warrior cats #my art #warriors #warrior cats designs #warriors fanart #waca #wc #warriors oc #warrior cats oc #click for better quality ! #vibrantstatic #the Moths r back!!

[filmofhybe]

A better Christmas

💌 pairing : Yang jungwon x oc 🎞️ GENRE : fluff , costumer x barista 800 wc

Warning : jungwon just went through a break up on Christmas.

Masterlist to my other works

Jungwon stepped into the warm glow of Y/N's cafe, the chill warm colored Christmas night clinging to him like a shadow. The bell above the door chimed softly as he entered, drawing Y/N's attention from behind the counter. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, there was a silent understanding. Well was be going to be happy after his girl- I mean ex girlfriend broke up with him ok Christmas Day.

Y/n sensed the heaviness in Jungwon's demeanor, the weight of a recent breakup etched across his face, she could tell every costumers story just by looking at their face. It was Christmas Day, a time when joy should abound, even during the day time many lovely people filled the café, but for him, she could tell he was having a lonely night. She decided to be the warmth he needed.

As the last customer, Jungwon took a seat by the window, his gaze lost in the swirling snow outside. Y/n, compassionate and perceptive, prepared a comforting cup of hot chocolate. The steam curled into the air, a tangible reassurance that some warmth remained in the world.

Setting the cup before him, Y/N spoke gently, "I hope this warms you up a little. Christmas can be tough sometimes."

Jungwon managed a faint smile, appreciating the genuine concern in her eyes. The warmth of the hot chocolate seeped into his cold soul as he touches the delicate mug, providing solace even if just for a moment. Y/n continued with her duties, but her attention lingered on him, sensing the need for more than just a beverage.

After a while, Y/N decided to close up the shop, realizing the solitude Jungwon faced and how he was very much still in his thoughts. As she locked the door, she invited him to join her at a nearby table. "You don't have to be alone tonight. Sometimes sharing the pain makes it a little easier to bear."

They sat in the dimly lit cafe, the Christmas lights casting a soft glow. “She broke up with me..” that’s what jungwon said, as he looks up to y/n, a gorgeous yet beautiful and kind women that just made his Christmas a little bit better by listened to him pouring his his heart out, the wounds of a broken relationship still raw. She offered words of comfort and understanding, a soothing balm to his wounded spirit. “I know it hurts to separate with your ex partner in such a special day, but trust me your worth more than her.”

As the night wore on, Y/N's compassionate presence became a source of solace for Jungwon. The weight on his shoulders seemed to lift, if only slightly. He realized that in the midst of heartbreak, a connection had blossomed – an unexpected friendship that held the promise of healing. Jungwon smiling from time to time at her lovely stories. His dimple showing and for once, someone noticed how adorable it was - and it was y/n.

When it was time for Jungwon to leave, Y/n walked him to the bus stop. The snowfall had intensified, creating a serene backdrop to their parting. Before boarding his bus, Jungwon turned to her with gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you for being there tonight. You made a difficult day a little easier to bear," he said, his voice carrying a newfound warmth.

Y/n smiled, "You're always welcome here. Take care, and remember, you're not alone." She said as she waved good bye to him, continue to walk back to her apartment down the road.

In the following days, Jungwon found himself drawn to y/n’s cafe like a moth to a flame. He sought refuge in the familiarity of her company, finding comfort in the simple moments they shared. Y/n with her empathetic nature, welcomed him without judgment, understanding the fragility of healing hearts.

Their conversations ranged from lighthearted banter to the depths of their personal experiences. Y/n became a confidante, and Jungwon, in turn, offered his support and friendship. The cafe transformed into a sanctuary for both, a place where the wounds of the past could be acknowledged and, eventually, mended.

As weeks turned into months, the pain that once gripped Jungwon began to loosen its hold. Y/n’s kindness and companionship played a crucial role in his healing process. The bond they forged over shared stories and laughter grew stronger with each passing day.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, Jungwon looked at Y/N with a genuine smile. "You know, you've been my saving grace. I can't thank you enough." Y/N chuckled, "We all need someone to lean on. I'm just glad I could be that someone for you."

Their friendship deepened, transcending the initial connection formed on that lonely Christmas night. Jungwon continued to visit the cafe, not out of a lingering sadness, but because he found solace in the warmth of y/n’s presence. The cafe, once a refuge in times of sorrow, became a symbol of newfound joy and a better Christmas for the both.

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

#kflixnet #k lables #k neighborhood #k films #🥥 하이브의 영화 #⛸️*.❅·🧣⋆ 24 days of christmas with filmofhybe #enhypen jungwon #jungwon imagines #jungwon fluff #yang jungwon x y/n #jungwon x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #kpop fanfic

[dapplemoth]

started a new Clangen save but this time I drew the generated cats.

#Warrior Cats #wc #warrior cats oc #wc oc #clangen #moths art #glazeclan #my fav is Honeykit

[wc-confessions]

There's a couple Warriors fanfics I was reading 10 years ago as a young teen which I deeply loved. I even remember printing one of them into a mock "book" with a cover made of google image pictures lovingly printed and pasted to resemble the old WC covers. Both were unfortunately unfinished, one of them I'm pretty sure disappeared with skyblogs and the other I have found again but the author has been inactive for years now.

I was wondering something and I'd love to hear other people's opinions !

Ever since I've found that the Warriors fandom even existed a couple years ago (grew up without social media) I started drawing and animating to join in on the fun.

Now that I'm starting to be satisfied with my skills, I'd love nothing more than to make fanarts/animations about these fanfics that I loved growing up, as a tribute but also because I still genuinely enjoy the stories now that I've skimmed through them again. They're pretty dated and edgy but in a really nostalgic way.

I would NOT claim the characters or stories as my own, just credit the original authors, but I also wonder if I were to make this kind of things, if that would be respectful considering the authors are not really around anymore ? From my perspective it's a love letter to them but it's not really like I can ask permission from long abandoned accounts...

There's also that I don't know if it would be prudent to leave links back to the story that is still up, as it's quite literally from 10 years ago, written by a teen, and by today's standards could be seen as a little dicey I guess (namely, the main character having kits a little young (think Ferncloud or Moth Flight-adjacent except her mate is the same age as her)). I don't want anyone to leave disparaging comments to someone's 10 year old edgy cat fanfic, even if the author probably won't see it.

By the way I forgot to mention but it's an OC story with some canon characters mixed in at some points. It's not in english but in my native language.

I haven't done anything yet because I'm still on the fence of if it would be okay or not. If the situations were reversed I'd be flattered that someone liked my story that much, maybe embarassed if I saw my past art as cringe... but I can't simply go off of my own feeling, especially since I'm new to the whole "community/fandom" thing and am still learning what's acceptable or not.

TL:DR : If everyone has any insight, I'd love to have second opinions on if doing fanarts of old abandoned fanfics is okay !

Anyway. I'm sorry for the long and peculiar question !! I wish everyone a good day !

.

#text #anonymous #confession #warrior cats

[driftkits-moth-net]

Found this in the warriors den caught in a spiderweb and it seemed like something you’d like

- @ask-a-skipbadger

Thank you Skipbadger!! He's beautiful... I'm going to name him Jerry. I hope he's alright

#ask! #driftkit #skipbadger #mommyclan #mommyclan art #wc oc #Jerry the moth #idk i feel like he needs a tag

[inactivegaz]

flew like a moth to you

pairing: astarion/tav (alystin mysek) fandom: baldur's gate 3 wc: ~500 note: posting a fic for a new oc and a new fandom is daunting as hell for no reason lmao. this is short and meant to be apart of a larger set of moments between these two, so consider this 1/5! -`♡´-

READ ON AO3 or under the cut

Astarion watched over the camp, the day of adventuring having ended after their pseudo-leader, one of only three humans in the camp, took a vicious slice from a gnoll.

If only it took the self-righteous paladin out–

“Hey.” A gravelly voice interrupted his thoughts, Alystin. A drow who he actually grew quite fond of in their short time on the road.

“Hello,” he perked up, flipping a dagger around in his hand.

“Care for a drink?” she asked, holding out a somehow well-manicured, freckled hand, “I found a bottle of Arabellan Dry on our way back.”

Taking her hand to stand up slowly, Astarion was taken aback when she didn’t let it go as she made her way to the opposite side of camp.

Even now as she led him to her tent, her footsteps were deliberate and delicate, hand lightly grasping his. She sat on a log she clearly set up to be a bench, picking branches off for at least the past week.

“Are you alright?” Alystin asked, handing the open bottle of mystery liquor over to him.

Taking it quickly, he took a whiff and shrugged before taking his own swig. “She didn’t hurt my feelings, if that’s what you’re trying to imply here,” he answered, maybe a touch too quickly.

The drow scoffed, “I wasn’t asking about feelings. I was wondering about your head; our young paladin bowled you over with the force of an ox. You still have mud in your hair.”

“What?” Astarion knew there would still be some dirt back there, he did the best he could without being able to even see himself in the mirror. 

With a laugh, Alystin took the bottle back.

He should’ve known better than to think she was asking about his feelings, truthfully his ego was a little bruised but she didn’t need to know that.

“If you want, I could give you a hand?”

He was unsure, but he couldn’t actually get it done himself without taking an uncomfortable dunk into their section of the river; so there Astarion was not five minutes later, back to the drow as he felt her careful fingers pull through his curls.

It was a gentle routine, she’d dip her fingers into the bowl of water beside them, pull her fingers through the mud while re-wetting it and wiping it off on an old cloth. Rinse, repeat.

It was a moment that was so tender, it made him squirm. 

Ideally he would’ve seduced the human. She looked naive, kind and clearly had a knack for helping out the damsels in distress, not that he was one. Alystin was a drow and not to judge a book by its beautiful, purple cover, but they weren’t exactly known for lending a helping hand out of the kindness of their own hearts.

That being said, she surprised him every day they were on this wretched journey.

#i am quite literally going crazy over them #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #oc: alystin #otp: to be filed #k writes

[werdlewrites]

Season of the Witch (Steve Harrington x OC)

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Dream Project

masterlist-about-patreon-ao3 share support through comments,reblogs and likes!

taglist: @brittney69

summary: She’s choking - a metallic taste sits on her tongue, pooling at the back of her throat until the dam gives way, letting it spill free and suffocate her. Each cough sprays blood out across her table, a desperate hand reaching to contain the hell she unleashed. Dirtied clothes are pressed to her nose, ignoring the mess until the chaos slows to a stop. Her spare hand pressed deep into the table, holding her form steady as a familiar pain settled into her skull, knives twisting deeper in attempt to pluck out all she had learned. The Dream Project. warnings: TENSION? blood wc: 4,164

"I need a favor.”

There was a clash of his lunch tray as it fell into the table, the food now scrambled together in a mess that seemed to go unnoticed by the teen as he slid into his spot just across from the girl. She’s dazed, eyes wide from surprise as she takes him in - watching as his mouth is moving a mile a minute but not meeting her gaze as fingers pick up the fallen water bottle. Music is blaring, drowning him out over a walkman that he has yet to make note of beneath the crowd of roaring students. And finally, he looks to her expectantly - as if waiting for her answer to an unheard conversation, and his posture instantly becomes slouched. There’s a heavy sigh seen as his chest deflates, disappointed - maybe even annoyed he had spent this time talking to..himself. Cautiously, the headpiece is lowered to rest just around the girl's neck, a weary smile coming to light, hoping to ease the sudden tension between the two. “Did you hear anything I said?” “Not a damn thing,” Autumn replies honestly, that smile turning into something more bold and confident, now finding amusement in his misery as his eyes roll back.

“I need a favor,” Jonathan repeats, arms folded across the table with his focus locked on her - studying her reaction. “A favor?” she asks, the corners of her mouth still tugged upwards, curious to a mysterious yet bold request as the two still barely knew each other. After the record store, they would bump into one another in the halls and spare a few kind words. Later down the road, she sought him out - a moth to a lone flame, though rather than letting her burn, she soared around him in a dance, bringing out a warmth he never knew he had. But things were still new, and fire was unpredictable - insects so fragile. She had yet to learn his favorite color, though he assumed hers by the earthy tones she dawned. He didn’t know much about her home life, yet she knew some of his - a baby brother just across the lot in middle school, and a single mother working her ass off yet still finding time to be all that she can for the two boys.

“Yeah,” his fingers are fidgeting with a heart racing just under his layered top, nerves worked up to the point he thinks he’s sweating. “I - I just got a job,” “Congratulations,” she muses, her spoon digging a hole through a homemade yogurt parfait, continuing to enjoy her lunch with bliss. “It’s after school,” she nods along, simply listening as she empties the small tupperware container. “It’s not, you know..everyday. But, there are some days where..my mom won’t be home,” eyes land on him as pieces of the puzzle quickly fall into place, leaving the question out in bold for her to read without him having asked it yet. “And, I won’t be there..either.” “Jonathan,” her voice is stern, the smile now gone and he looks like a deer caught in the headlights - frozen and a little fearful. “I have no experience with..kids. I’ve never babysat anyone - I don’t even petsit.” “Oh, come on. Will is one of the easiest kids t'watch.” “Then take him t'work with you,” she retorts, the spoon digging down into the yogurt for a final bite. She was half joking.

“Just come by. Meet my mom, meet Will. See how you feel about it,” he suggests, eyes now looking hopeful, thinking he may sway her. “You’re always complaining about money, anyway.”

And that’s how she wound up in their driveway that very same day after he had given her piss poor directions. She wouldn’t have known it was the right place if Jonathan’s car hadn’t been parked off in the grass. She could hear music from inside without the follow up of a parent attempting to scream over it. Simply, letting it be - letting happiness boom through the walls. She chooses not to knock, instead ringing the bell and waiting at the doorstep with a racing heart, looking back to her car and wondering if she should go back home instead. She could tell Jonathan this really wasn’t her thing - that he could find someone better. But the door opens, and the woman before her is bright eyed - well rested and peaceful despite the chaos in her home. “Hi!” she tries to say over the music. “You must be - oh, one moment,” she says, her nose crinkled in mild frustration before the door just barely closes. The music comes to a sudden stop a moment later, and she returns with the same smile. “You must be Autumn, Jonathan’s friend. Sorry, the boys just got a new vinyl and, well,” she laughs, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Come in!”

Joyce was unlike anything she had imagined. The picture Jonathan painted left her to believe she was a woman putting on a happy face, yet worn thin from the work she did on her own. But she was..a genuine beam of light. Proud to have come this far, welcoming the girl into this home she’s built without hesitation. Jonathan emerges from around the corner, a small smile seen on his face hidden in the dim lighting. “You came,” “Yeah, well,” she sighs, shoulders shrugging in a playful manner all the while his mother watches on with glee in her eyes - happy to see her son has someone outside of his family to talk to. “Just don’t ask me t'watch your fish.” He laughs at that, his body falling back towards the hallway where multiple rooms remain hidden from her view. “Let me go get him.”

Jonathan leaves Joyce and Autumn alone together - where she tries to offer various drinks to help her feel more comfortable, all politely declined until she holds out a tray of chocolate chip cookies, that's when she caves. It’s nothing how Autumn makes them, more bitter than sweet as she’s overloaded them with chips. Yet it doesn’t stop her from grabbing a second just before the tray is pulled out of her reach.

Jonathan returns with a much smaller boy in tow, his smile is timid, though warm. “This is the girl I was telling you about; Autumn,” She spares the older boy a look, wondering just exactly what he’s told Will and why she was a topic of conversation. “Woah,” Will states, sweet eyes bewildered as he studies the girl - face quickly turning a shade of pink once he realizes he’s been caught with admiration. “Y - your rings are really cool,” he says in defense, leaving the girl puzzled as she examines her free hand. She never thinks anything of it until someone makes a comment about the excessive jewelry, and even then, their words carry little weight as she moves through the hallways of Hawkin’s High. “J - Jonathan says they all mean something. S’that true?”

Will is pure, innocent and full of intrigue. There’s genuine curiosity in him, eyes beaming up at her and she can only smile in return. “Yeah, it is. Do you want to see them?” “Yeah!”

Hours had gone by since Autumn had seen a single soul - or hardly said anything out loud for that matter. She had taken this day for herself, to mourn, to search for any amount of kindness, and forgiveness and let herself try to grasp onto it. Keep it close to her chest in attempts to mend the wounds, but the hurt was too deep and she bled through her hands, leaving a trail of sorrow through her home. She had left a mark in her bed from hours spent sitting, pulling every leaf she could find, watering the plants that needed it. She cleaned rooms until every ounce of energy had gone wasted, leaving the girl to stare at the television as show after show rolled over one another, never truly absorbing what was happening and letting them all blend into one. She had tried to sleep time away, but with every moment of darkness there were horrors to follow - like flashes of lightning just behind her eyes to keep her on edge. She saw him, lifeless. She heard the screams of something unknown echoing, playing as the soundtrack as she re-lived her time in the woods, the assault in the hallway, the moved frame, to Jonathan’s body forced into the car without so much as laying a hand against him. The moment begins to linger at the forefront, notebook in hand as she scribbles down thoughts. The pages are messy - none making any sense if a stranger had stumbled over her personal belongings. She’s written about her injury and the demon that gave it to her - why it came to be and coming to empty conclusions to be written over.

What exactly happened between her and Jonathan at school?

There’s mentions of energies and their manipulation in the books she owns. Whether through a force that followed her from another realm entirely, or something she held deep within. But she had felt nothing. No incredible tingle, no wind, nothing of significance to tell her where it had all come from. Only knowing a dark curtain had fallen, to suddenly waken and see Jonathan no longer grasping at her bruised skin. The familiar look of pain and hurt haunting her, even now. The book closes as all questions remain empty, just like before. There are only suspicions but everything seemed all too far fetched - impossible, and her mind had become too exhausted from the ache of loss and lack of sleep to push onward.

She entertains the idea for a moment, that it had all been her doing. That she hurt Jonathan, yet unknowing how. Autumn wonders if there’s a slight chance in recreating it - even if it’s only a fraction. So, she stares. Eyes locked on the flickering screen before her with a burning intent to have the picture go dark. Hoping, willing it - imagining herself reaching forward to flick the knobs until nothing was left to be seen or heard. And yet the faces look back to her, almost mocking. They smile and tell jokes she can’t focus on - listening to the pounding sound of her own heart that booms in her ears like thunder. The clock is ticking in the kitchen, every tick acting as a reminder of how much time is spent waiting for something to happen and it never does. The show continues, and a knock at the front door lures her away with a heavy sigh. It’s only then that Autumn realizes just how late it’s become. The sun easing down to welcome the moon, sending all of Hawkin’s into a peaceful state as everyone headed home from school or work.

With money in hand, she shuffles towards the front door, already expecting who would be waiting for her there after making a call thirty minutes ago. Just beyond the door, Adam Boyd; someone all too familiar and not in the most favorable way. She had seen him in school, standing tall above the rest, making it easier to throw snide comments across the way as he walked side by side with Tommy. It had been his first delivery of the night, his uniform perfectly ironed by his mother, cleaned without a speck of grease in sight. So proud of her boy to be balancing work and school, unknowing he would bring pizza right to the doorstep of a girl he tormented and spat at. And you could see it in his face. Those same cruel comments lingering on his tongue, the twitch of his lips as he fights them off. And maybe some piece of her wishes he’d let it out, so she could launch herself at his throat like a wolf protecting her home. Drag him into the shadows until he surrenders, fleeing into the night like the coward she knew he was. All bark, with no real bite.

“Here’s your order, miss,” he states in a firm tone, handing over two pizza boxes in exchange for the money. Not a second spared lingering on the welcome mat before turning on his heel, feeling a looming threat by being trapped in her territory. He escapes in the dark, only a street light to illuminate him as he makes way for the company car, daring to spare her a final glance through the dirtied window before the door separates their worlds. A moment to be forgotten as they return to Hawkin’s High as they once were. The boxes are carried up to the kitchen, set along the island and flipped open in search for her order. The smell reminds her she’s yet to eat since sunrise, her body filled with grief and leaving no room for anything else until she grew nauseous from lack of sustenance. The sound of an empty stomach crying out was shockingly loud in the silence.

The silence.

The savory treat lingers just at her lips as she takes note of the eerie quiet, slow to turn her attention back towards the den where she once sat in a nest of comforting warmth. There was no flicker of light from moving pictures to cast down on the floor or reflect off framed paintings, only the steady light of a lamp in the far off corner. She inches closer, leaving the food behind as something else takes over all senses - curiosity. The box is black, no fake smiles to stare back at the camera, only reflections of herself as she stands before it as a statue - mesmerized. Her fingers search for loose cords only to find nothing, the switch remaining “on” despite the shadow. With the flick of her wrist, the smiles are back as if nothing had happened - though it was evident there had been something and it creates a bizarre concoction of fear and excitement swimming through the girl’s veins. She sits cross legged before the television, determination pushing her beyond the brink of starvation and feeding from this new rush of adrenaline. She stares long, and hard. One show ends and another begins without so much as a flicker of failing power, without a hint of success or proof she had been the cause in the first place. Autumn only surrenders when her eyes begin to water from pain, slouching in defeat with a heavy sigh to follow.

The clock ticks on - it’s late, and Autumn remains alone in the home. Her father should have been there by now - or at least given a call to say he would be running late. She wonders if he’s forgotten, if this had meant anything to him at all - no matter how small it all seemed. Or maybe, by some freak chance, that something had happened to him - was he stuck somewhere? A car abandoned on the side of the road, an accident.. But, someone would have told her. Anyone. The line to his office rings endlessly, no receptionist to take the call and direct her forward. In the late hour, she grows tired - impatient, finding no answers for her own troubles yet knowing she’s capable of casting light on this particular looming shadow. So she drags the empty shell of a body up the stairs towards her bedroom, a candle at her desk is lit - the only source of light in the gloomy space. Her hands are shaken as they lay out over the surface, knowing the possibilities of where this journey may take her and the nightmares it may bring - yet willing to risk it, all for the smallest piece of closure. Just like she had done for Will.

“Be with me.”

Heavy, sleep deprived eyes fall shut with attention now on her breath. The peaceful flow as it swept through her lungs, each exhale leaving her feeling more at ease and deflated than the moment before. The distant tick of the kitchen clock eases her into a tranquil state, a lullaby soothing her into slumber until she swears she’s floating high above the clouds. Fingers twitch against the wood yet there’s no pressure, her posture deeply slouched forward without the ache in her spine. And then, there’s someone..somewhere. A whisper at her back, giving her enough encouragement to open her eyes and find she had made it - to wherever that may have been.

She’s unsurprised to find nothing obvious - only that familiar emptiness, with no real guidance on where to go. There’s a feeling of fear burning in her chest, fingers coiling into fists as she recalls the monster that may come for her. And this thought, forces the girl to move quickly - feet moving with haste along the smooth surface, following unfamiliar voices as they speak about their day. It’s all so bizarre to Autumn - having heard many voices across the plains, though knowing they were no longer a part of the living world. But these people..were very much here, working, living - and her dad must be amongst the masses, somewhere. He shouldn’t be difficult to find despite the fog of voices, they had been the only thing heard other than the occasional rustle of papers or clinks of coffee mugs.

Autumn can’t help but wonder..why it all seemed so peaceful. The further she walked, the different the conversations - yet there hadn’t been a moment of metal work, no drilling, no sound of clashing pieces or shouting workers as they struggled to meet their quota. Had she found herself in the wrong place somehow? No factory could have been this serene. Even without the sign of her father, she continues onward - waiting for a signal, and trusting her gut. The voices fade into the darkness the deeper she moves, ultimately forcing her into a pit of loneliness where she stands at the center of it all, uncertain of how to proceed. Feeling somewhat defeated, and none too anxious to linger in this space, a heavy sigh falls - and that’s when something comes to her, or comes from her. There’s a mist dancing in the air just inches from the girl's face, easily fading into nothingness before she can truly take it all in. Another breath, and a cloud spilling from her lips - a sign of something she’s yet to understand. There’s a familiar sensation pricking at her skin, a winter's wind caressing exposed arms, and taking hold of her face - swollen from crying, guiding her on a path.

She follows without question, letting its hold pull her in the opposite direction, turning on her heels despite the painful ache of anxiety telling the girl to go - to end this before it’s too late. Autumn remains encapsulated in its hold, a frozen coffin plunged beneath the earth and bound tight - unable to move as she takes in the sight before her - unfortunately, all too familiar. A wound savagely torn through the world, no longer open and bleeding, but monstrous and putrid from a spreading infection. She wonders for the briefest of moments, if this thing had been following her - or if she had followed it.

There’s a glimmer of light from inside - like a distant strike of lightning to dance along the sky, pittering out into nothing. Fists form at her sides, feeling a familiar burn spreading through the skin of an injured arm and seeping deep into her veins, seeking to torment her - to kill her. A reminder of a looming evil.

“Mr. Reid,” the voice is soft, it echoes into the dark and pulls the teen from her trance - looking off into the void as life suddenly flows through her again. It doesn’t return, but she feels her invisible bonds breaking away to lay at bare feet, allowing the girl to run in its direction - not daring to look back at the hellish thing that haunted her. It’s not long after that a force stands in the way, causing a collision with hands frantically roaming over a flat, black surface - seamlessly blending in with the world around it. A hand miraculously finds a door handle, giving her access to a room - though it appeared no different, aside from the distinct voices. “Thank you, Ms. Young,” her father says in reply, the sound of a cup connecting with a table surface echoed - while to them, it was so simple, and unnoticed. “They are working us like dogs,” the woman says with a sigh, an office chair surrendering to her weight as she settles in, the rustle of paperwork soon to follow after. “It’s important work we’re doing,” he states with confidence, and she can only hum in response before they drift into silence, leaving Autumn to grow anxious.

Her father was a big man in a big company - none of this seemed to be how he described. A hardworking man, down with the crew, managing parts and shipments, something rough with only spare moments to settle in an office - these few moments seemed all too cozy. “How’s The Dream Project?” the woman asks, her words are muffled - most likely head tucked low with focus on her work laid out before her. Ian clicks his tongue to begin. “Uncertain. There are..moments where I think it’s going somewhere, and others where I get half truths.” The girl can picture Ms. Young place her pen down, attention now more on the subject at hand - The Dream Project, whatever the hell it was. “Half? It took you this long to only get half truths?” “As if I’ve done this before,” he retorts. “Am I sensing a lack of trust?” There’s a moment of silence, and a sickness brewing in the girl's empty stomach - she wants to keel over and let the bile spill out, surrender to the building anxiety and hurt she’s been drowning in.

“I hear things,” he comments with pride, the sound of a pen moving swiftly across paper is almost too sharp for her senses to bear. “Nothing goes unnoticed -” there’s pause in his words, the rustle of clothing before he mutters, “Shit.” “What?” the other woman asks, a concerning tone in her voice. “I was supposed to be home for Autumn - she’s having a difficult time.” Ms. Young laughs at his misfortune, nose turned downward, no longer caring for their conversation as she continues her work. “You’re in for it now -” suddenly, a blaring siren. It screams just overhead, startling enough to force the girl down to the ground from fear, palms pressed to her ears in attempts to drown out the shattering noise. When the shock dies down, it becomes easier to assess new surroundings, wide eyes taking note of a yellow light shining with each blare of the alarm, casting down on the surface she stood upon. She almost doesn’t want to look, to know the truth - but a bleeding heart searches for closure, encouraging tired eyes to look past fallen strands of hair to find two figures in the light.

“We have a breach,” Ms. Young states, standing from her desk, every motion only illuminated in the moments the alarm cried out - like a horror movie played out for her. Her father, a main star - standing off to the side at a tall cabinet with doors wide open, his focus locked on an unknown vial in hand as he pulled its contents with a syringe. There’s a walkie at his hip - just nearly concealed by a long, white coat that flows behind him as he follows his coworker out the door, and as it slams shut..there’s a sudden pain to fill her chest.

She’s choking - a metallic taste sits on her tongue, pooling at the back of her throat until the dam gives way, letting it spill free and suffocate her. Each cough sprays blood out across her table, a desperate hand reaching to contain the hell she unleashed. Dirtied clothes are pressed to her nose, ignoring the mess until the chaos slows to a stop. Her spare hand pressed deep into the table, holding her form steady as a familiar pain settled into her skull, knives twisting deeper in attempt to pluck out all she had learned.

Dream Project.

The words ran through a cycle, searching for something to spark a light - though all remained dim, and continued to darken with each passing second. Her world was fading, grip on the wood loosening while eyes began to close - this wasn’t deep sleep creeping in, but something else entirely. Her form would begin to sway gently, until burning eyes rolled back, leaving all to come crashing down on the surface of her bedroom floor.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington angst #stranger things #stranger things ff #steve harrington ff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic

[sharkenthusiasm]

evil goblin girl!!! little murderer skrunkly. this is sunchaser, the big bad for the story. since she’s like the main villain, and I’ve posted the other protags, I’ll be doing a lore post soon. anyways!!! some quick details:

dew clan medicine cat

she/her

#warriors #warrior cats #wc #wc oc #sunchaser #moths designs

[serenitygrove]

hey! i’m serenity but you can call me reni!

this is my art blog! also my only blog lol. i’m new to tumblr so bear with me pls ty ty <3 most of the stuff that i post will be warrior cats + oc related mixed with whatever my brain conjures up

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

about me: ✷ 19 ✷ aussie ✷ she/they pronouns but feel free to use any others i don’t really care ✷ sagittarius ♐︎ ✷ artist + animator ✷ war cat enthusiast

fandoms i’m active in: ✷ warriors ✷ south park ✷ fnaf ✷ pokémon + more

fav wcs are: ✷ leafpool ✷ squirrelflight ✷ bluestar ✷ ivypool ✷ moth flight ✷ shadowsight ✷ blackstar ✷ hawkfrost ✷ mapleshade ✷ tallstar + many more meow meows

my socials: ✷ youtube (active every 100 years) ✷ toyhouse (wip) ✷ warriors amino (inactive) ✷ discord (active every 2000 years) ⇝ serenityyy#2409

art requests / commissions: ✷ requests: closed ✷ commissions: closed

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

if you’re wanting to use my art in any way pls ask first. i do not accept reposts of my art otherwise use credit pls if you’re gross or mean get out

#welcome to my blog #pinned post #blog intro