#storybook tiny home

[gigimoldovan1982blog]

#tiny house #illustration #storybook #art #house #home #aiart #ai #digitalart #wheels #garden

[eldritchravens]

Welcome Home - The Homewarming Update : A compilation of the secrets I could find

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD!⚠️

This post is simply a compilation of all the things I could find during my exploration of the website. I'm not going to delve too much into theories. Enjoy the read!

1- Statics

Every background is now filled with statics. I tried zooming out but I couldn't find anything. Not really a secret, but still interesting to note.

2- It's a dog! Oh, and a pea!

Found in the "Official Welcome Home Cook Book" in the merchandise page. I am... A little worried about Barnaby. For those who are aware, the pea is foreshadowing for a much bigger secret.

3- Audio distortion

Surprisingly, I was only able to find one instance where the audio distorts. In the "Homewarming Storybook Record", when Wally speaks here (timestamp is 18:16), the audio gets distorted. Please let me know if you found more audio glitches on the main website!

4- The page is breathing

I was able to capture something that made my skin crawl. Look very closely at this illustration. It's... breathing. I'm unsure if any other image in the website does that too. Very troubling.

5- Lost track of time

Uh-oh! Looks like our beloved writer is losing their perception of time itself. An effect of the black substance maybe? You can find this on the News page.

6- Pixels? Smudges? Oh, and a new friend!

In The Neighboorhood page, Home now has little white pixels around him? I'm unsure if this was intentional or not. Interestingly, the secret link under Home dissapeared along with every other traces of Wally.

The logo on certain pages looks... dirty? Look closely, there are brownish stains on some letters. This doesn't appear everywhere.

And! New friend! Hello new friend!

7- Symbols!

Okay, now onto the main course. Something I think we've all noticed straight away! There's a ton of tiny little doodles splattered around the website. The doodles are all named after a letter. Here is every letter translated from their respective symbol you can find on the website :

Home : M I O A Merchandise : P Y E R Media : Y G About us : A R Stickers : E News : T Neighboorhood : S F N E Wally : W Exhibition : N Ghestbook : W W W Transcript : Y

"www" huh? Interesting, like a web link. At first, all of this doesn't really mean anything, until we stumble upon this!

Fascinating, it's a code! Eddie here is giving us the translation to every single doodle. Next, if we solve the question here "What does Home wear at parties?", it gives us the next clue we need. The answer is "ADDRESS". Address? Now, remember the "www" thing? That's right! We need to assemble the letters we found to make a link!

8- Away from Prying Eyes

After assembling a link, you will be able to visit a secret page. In it is by far the biggest secret in this update : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/

When I tell you I lost my marbles when I discovered this. There is a lot to say here! Firstly, one thing to note is that unlike any other secrets we had found in previous updates, Wally didn't put this here. Instead, it was this mysterious "W". Go read the whole thing! It's PACKED with information!

"W" purposely put this here for US to find. W is in distress, confused and scared; this looks like a call for help.

Might or might not be important, but the word "Paranoid" here starts with a capital. It did catch my eye, so maybe it is noteworthy.

This entire phone call is absolutely fascinating and gives us answers about the lore. I highly recommend people to give it a listen : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/phone

AND THIS??? OH MY GOODNESS!!! Clown is spoiling us with gifts for this Homewarming! Truly, thank you Clown and the whole WH team, you're doing such a marvelous job. Watch the whole thing here : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/commercials

And what's this hidden among the commercials? Eddie! Remember how I said the pea was foreshadowing? Eddie can hear Home's heartbeat. Well, our dearest mailman doesn't look too well :( Thankfully Frank seems to be looking out for him!

_________________________

Important things to note: This update is almost completely void of any trace of Wally infesting the website. The symbols were placed by the website manager here. Wally is not there anymore. Also, Eddie is purposely left out of the main update, only to be the center of attention in the commercial compilation.

Well! That's all I managed to find for now! Please let me know in the replies if I've missed anything. Thank you for reading, and Happy Homewarming! <3

Edit : Added some new things I just noticed!

#welcome home #partycoffin #welcome home update #welcome home secrets #welcome home puppet show #welcome home homewarming #homewarming #welcome home wally #welcome home home #welcome home eddie

[softlyspector]

clouds

Summary: Joel comes home to find you telling your daughter a bedtime story.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word count: ~1.6k

Warnings: Joel and the reader have a daughter together, certified girl dad Joel Miller, allusions to events in tlou part 2, Joel is a sad old guy, Joel and Ellie are not on good terms, completely unedited

A/N: Hello. I saw a compilation of all the times Joel called Ellie kiddo and this is what spilled forth from that emotional turmoil. Also, it was a nice lil challenge to write something short. I would love to hear your thoughts💕

Joel is still kicking off his boots by the front door when he hears giggling. 

The sound is like a shot of poison, like new love and cotton candy dreams, all in one. It’s something that never fails to take him back some twenty odd years. 

Yellow lamplight, purple and pink sheets, soccer trophies, pictures stuck to the walls. Texas heat and the muted hum of overhead fans. Laughter and storybooks.

He shakes the memory of that time, of that little girl away. Snow is splattered in little puddles around the front door’s mat now, and Joel isn’t sure how long he’s been standing there, lost in another time. 

Joel hangs up his coat and listens for it again, the tinkling bells of it. The little laughs that fill him with worrisome dread and the buoyancy of ten thousand balloons, with inadequacy and the roundness of champagne bubbles. 

Even though he’s hungry, even though he wants nothing more than to lie down on the couch and rest for just a goddamn second, he goes slowly up the stairs, avoiding all the little places he knows creak and crack. 

The landing and the hall are bled through with the glow of golden light. It streams in from the bathroom, where you must have forgotten to turn off the light, and one of the bedrooms. The smell of lavender soap leaches out into the hall, fragrant and thick but not cloying. It smells like sleep and safety, like his family, like babies. 

“Did you know that the clouds used to be ruled by monsters?” Your voice slips out into the hall from the other door, a pocket of light cracking the floorboards open.

Joel steps carefully closer, until he can see you and a tiny girl that looks everything like you, and nothing like him. 

“Monsters? Really?” The girl you’re tucking into bed raises a skeptical brow at you. He hears, but doesn’t see, Ellie snort from somewhere within, the gentle creak of the rocking chair she must be sitting in following. 

It stops his heart for a moment, freezes his body where he stands.

Ellie hasn’t been inside this house since…

When he…

He knows she’s been there. Because she still cares about you, about that girl that’s half his, that she thinks of as a sister, that is her sister. And he’s glad she has the two of you, even if he’ll never have her again. 

Ellie is never there when he’s there, never. 

Not anymore. 

You cock your head to the side, the movement birdlike. “Oh, neither of you believe me, huh? It’s true.” You tug the comforter higher around your daughter’s shoulders before brushing your fingers along her temple. “A long time ago they lived there. It’s why the sky turns stormy sometimes.” 

“Why? If they used to live there?” 

“Good catch,” you nod knowingly, curling your fingers around hers when she reaches for your hand. 

“And it still storms,” Ellie points out. Joel knows she’s rolling her eyes. 

You hum, brushing slow fingers against your daughter’s forehead with your free hand. “Well, aren’t you two my smart girls?” 

Ellie scoffs again, while another giggle from his baby reshapes his heart, floats long on the air, bubbly and bright. 

He pushes open the door before you can continue, forgetting for a moment, that things aren’t like before. “Ain’t you a little old to be arguin’ about bedtime stories?” 

The smile on Ellie’s face drops away when he steps into the room, and he tries not to let that bed down in his soul. Her expression goes steely and closed off. 

The room, decked out in warm swatches of green and yellow, goes a little tense. There’s a little stuffed giraffe from Ellie at the foot of her bed, but everything else is covered in whatever you and he can find with bats on it. 

He hadn’t expected this phase, but you find it funny. Spooky, you said of it, and cute. 

“Daddy,” Evie’s voice, squeaky and tinny. She reaches for him, chubby little fingers clenching and releasing. 

“Hi, baby,” he coos, reaches down so she can touch his hand. 

He’s too old to have a kid this little, one that can wrap her hand around his finger in lieu of his whole hand, who’s tiny hand was a little starfish against his palm. 

Still, he wouldn’t change it for the world. 

You stand from where you were perched on the edge of the little bed Joel built with his own hands. You lean down and tuck the blanket higher around her shoulders for a second time. A kiss is planted against her forehead. “Goodnight, baby.” 

“‘Night, mama.” 

“I’m gonna let daddy say goodnight now, okay? He never gets to put you to bed.” 

“Okay.” 

“Ask him to tell you a story,” you whisper, secretive about it. “He knows a lot of good ones.”

She giggles again. “Okay.”  

You pull back and straighten. The glowing eyes of your child follow the movement, then shift to him, big and full of life and all you. 

Ellie stands, clearly intending to follow you, her eyes focused on the ceiling, then the floor. She fidgets with two fingers and resolutely does not look at Joel. 

You lean into his side as you pass, your chest pressed against his arm when you kiss his cheek, before you make to leave. “Hold on now,” he hooks a hand in the crook of your elbow and keeps you close, acutely aware of how long it's been since all four of you have been in a room together. “Ain’t you gonna tell us why monsters ruled the clouds?” 

You smile softly at him, indulging him. “Well, don’t you know they were as afraid of us as we were of them?” 

“No, I didn’t,” he admits like this is something he’s heard of or thought on before, loosening his hold on your arm. You turn and Ellie glances up, meets your eyes but not his. She looks uncomfortable, like diving out the window might be preferable to standing in the same room as him. 

“They were,” you concede. “They were scared of us. And then it turned out that neither were as scary as the other thought. And the storms are just little reminders, of all the things that wouldn’t have been possible, had they stayed in the clouds forever.” 

Joel’s stomach goes sour, but Eva says, “Where are they now, mama?” 

“Right here with us,” you smile. “Because we were the same all along.” 

You lean in and kiss Joel’s cheek. 

Then you’re gone, and the door is shut before either he or Ellie can move. 

She’s still fidgeting, rolling her knuckles against her opposite hand, the skin pinching white. 

“So stupid,” she mutters. “Stupid story.” 

Joel just watches her for a minute before he fills in the place you’d vacated next to his daughter. Tiny fingers seek out his. She’s the littlest thing in the world, that he’s sure of. 

“Wasn’t too bad.” He glances up from Eva to Ellie. “You doin’ all right, kiddo?” 

Her face goes blank and then righteous with anger, hot and burning bright. But her eyes shift to the little girl looking so innocently up at both of them, wide eyes siding between them. 

Some of that fury recedes, just a little. “I should go,” she says roughly instead. 

It sinks part of his heart, sends it out to drift on an icy sea. But he just nods. “Okay,” he agrees softly. “We’ll see y’around.” 

She opens her mouth, like she wants to say something else. But she looks at Eva again, and doesn’t. “Yeah. Maybe.” 

It’s a lie, one she’ll keep if she can help it, and they both know it. “Okay. Be safe.” 

She doesn’t answer, but says goodbye to Eva in a gentle voice and then leaves. 

Joel’s chest hurts. Sometimes he can’t tell if it’s the old anxiety, vestiges of a previous life, a heart attack, or his heart breaking all over again. Maybe it’s some combination of all three. 

“Daddy?” 

“Hi, baby girl,” he murmurs again. “Did you have a nice day?” 

She nods, intelligent eyes clocking him, filing the look on his face away for later examination and rumination. She gets that from you, how smart and perceptive she is. “Mama said you should tell me a story,” she reminds him. 

Joel considers his limited catalog of child appropriate stories. He used to read to Sarah, brightly colored little books for kids about princesses and dogs that could talk. 

But Eva isn’t Sarah. 

The soft pads of her little fingers dig into his wrist. He leans down and presses a kiss to her hair. She still smells like a baby sometimes, sweet like milk, like bread. Now is one of those times, combined with the calming floral scent of the lavender soap you must have bathed her with. 

“Okay,” he says when he pulls back. She liked stories about animals, about monsters, about bats and wolves. She’d probably requested one right before he got home. “I know one. You wanna hear a story about another monster?”

Bright little eyes go sparkly with excitement. 

She nods, wiggles closer to his hip, half her face disappearing beneath the blanket so her eyes are all he can see. 

“Okay,” he agrees, soft about it. “Once there was a mean old monster. He didn’t care about no one or nothin’. And then he met a little girl.”

💞 Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. 💞

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

[toji-bunny-girl]

my mind is plagued with the thought of girl dad!Toji urghhhh 😭

when you first told that you’re pregnant, he just fr looked at you liek 🫤 Dude was not READY (even tho he already has a teenage son). Mans literally got all :/ for the consequences of his own action—not wearing condom and creampieing you all night just because it’s his silly lil kink 🤪🤪

his thought doesn’t go to the gender of the baby, cuz he thought babies are all the same, “aLl tHey dO iS shiT anD cRy 😠😠” (liek Megumi was mostly raised by his mom tf you know abt babies) until you’re 7 months pregnant and lying on his chest, in the bed with him while thinking up names for your baby.

“Akio,” Toji spoke, his chest rumbling with his words.

“That’s a boy name, Toji,” you turned to look at him, suspicion laced in your features. “Do you even know the gender of our baby?”

“Uh—yea. A girl, right?” he answered based on the way you reacted.

This wasn’t good. He was showing signs of a neglectful parent, just like how he did with his son; you can never imagine yourself as a single mom—and you would stop at nothing to prevent his cycle of absent parenting.

Your daughter would have parents who would do anything, even kill for her, you swore.

And Toji would take that literally.

When he first saw Minami, he had an intangible feeling in his chest, pulse thumping fast and his head grew heavy. It was like having Megumi for the first time, with another woman he loves and a daughter with her.

Toji had forgotten how tiny babies were, especially in his large hands. And the sight of this hulking man slightly crouching as he held his daughter warmed your heart: the look in his eyes spoke volume then, no one would ever dare to hurt his little girl.

When days got to months and bled to years, toddler Minami had finally grown into her character and the two of you are absolutely exhausted trying to take care of her. She was like a burning shell fired out of a circus cannon from the depths of hell, screaming when you don’t let her tear her storybooks apart and obliterating your ears when you take her toys away for throwing them at people.

It’s during moments like this where Toji imagines a life without her (sorry). You’d be spending time date nights alone usually ended with you screaming his name at the backseat of his car. And would he exchange his current life with one without Minami? Absolutely not.

It would mean losing one of his pretty girls in his arm at night, no more tea parties with mom and dad, and he wouldn’t have his personal alarm pasting those small smooches on his cheeks to wake him up (upon mommy’s orders).

He’d rather lose an eardrum or two just to have his emerald-eyed princess welcoming him home with her giggles. He’d rather the world burn than to lose Minami. His south star, the brightest of all just like her mother.

#My man my man my mannnn 🩷 #toji x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk fluff #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk imagines #toji zenin #fushiguro toji #zenin toji #jjk toji #Jjk fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x you #anime

[leclsrc]

hi auds bear!! dunno if you saw charles' insta story of his new sky ad but now begging for a 2k celebration blurb of dad!charles <3

misspelled – cl16

genre: fluff, 2k celebration, girldad!charles

“It’s L-E-S, love.” He points to the piece of paper peppered with doodles. “Go ahead for me.”

The sun is high and sweltering, with noontime March heat, but still Charles is undeterred in his quest to get your daughter to spell his name properly. The evening prior, you’d presented him with a welcome home card signed by her, and addressed to Daddy Charlse—cue the Leclerc dramatics.

He’d pressed about a thousand kisses to her tiny face, thanking her over and over and keeping the card in his bag so they could cook dinner together. But once the pasta was finished and the toothbrush jingle was sang (twice) and he’d stowed her off to bed (three storybooks later), he padded over to your bed and sighed lowly, stopping just shy of the foot of it. Already you’d sensed his incoming anxious complaint.

It comes. “So. Charl-s-e.” 

“She’s four, honey.” You’d shut your book softly, smiling. “She spells her grandmum’s name as Packal.”

“It’s because I’m always out for work, isn’t it?” He climbed into bed beside you, perching his chin on your stomach. “And this is also because Max keeps insisting he babysit, sweetie. I swear, he’s brainwashing my baby girl.”

You laughed; the vibration extended into him and he smiled fondly at your reaction. “Charles, it’s nothing. They’re working on spelling at school, you know—she’s got a few words she gets wrong sometimes, the same ones. But she’s learning.”

“Charl-s-e,” he’d repeated sullenly. “Charl-seh.”

“If it matters that much, why don’t you try teaching her tomorrow?” You swept your hand through his hair, mouth in a half-smile. “Make an afternoon of it.”

He’d taken your advice very seriously—woken up a bit earlier, cooked them both pancakes (and you French toast, as always) and led her into the yard for some daddy-daughter time. “If you’re thirsty, I made lemonade,” you sing-song from the patio door. “You two’ve been at it for a bit.”

There are scrapped pieces of paper with his name misspelled on most of them—there is the occasional success, though you’re guessing Charles wants just one more—and drawings of your family all over them. You already sense the influx of pictures Charles has on his phone, of these drawings and cards he always posts on his Instagram or sends to you.

At your announcement, Julia looks up, green eyes piqued with interest, grip on the red crayon loosening. But her father’s faster, gently coaxing her back into the mini lawn chair that sits on the yard. She nods along his careful instructions, writing slowly, sun filtering through her light brown hair.

You get short moments of reprieve like this during the season. It’s rare for Charles to visit if he’s in the thick of it—most of the time you travel to a different city to see him, Julia going from your hip to his arms in seconds once he spots the two of you. But this moment is irreplaceable: the sunrays on the grass, the lemonade waiting to be drank, the pieces of paper with Mommy and Papa, bunchfuls of grapes on the patio table. 

He tries again. “Come on, love. C-H-A…” 

She bounds into the kitchen five minutes clutching a final paper, which she shows you with a sun-tinged face of pride. CHARLSE, it reads still. You pour her a glass, wait for Charles to finish packing up the rest of the art materials Julia was too excited to do herself; he comes in a bit sweaty from the sun asking to see the card.

You hand him a glass and press a kiss to his cheek. “Still S-E,” you say, both of you reading over the various scribbles.

“I don’t care.” He pauses. “You see this?” He points to the lower part of the page. 

Best Daddy Ever is written on it in wild vivid colors. You beam, love bubbling up in your chest overwhelmingly. He takes it from you and tacks it onto on the fridge, smiling. “She wrote that. I couldn’t have asked for a better card.” 

#f1 #charles leclerc #leclsrc2000 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

[reality-detective]

👶🌟 Does your little one have the sniffles? It’s not just the teddy bears that need a hug!

🧄 Introducing the “Garlic Sole-Saver”! A natural remedy right from the storybooks of old, but backed by the warm wisdom of generations.

🤧 The Common Cold - a tiny virus with a big impact on your baby’s happiness. Runny noses and a chorus of sneezes become the unwanted soundtrack in your home.

🌱 Ingredients & Their Superpowers:

- Garlic: Not just for warding off vampires, but a natural antibiotic too!

- Cloth & Socks: The cuddly protectors of those tiny feet.

🔍 Here’s a magic trick minus the wand:

1. Slice the garlic - thin like a moon crescent.

2. Place it on a cloth, cover it (no skin contact!), then snugly wrap it under those baby socks.

3. Let the nighttime fairies do the rest while your baby dreams.

👣 Tiny Feet, Big Relief: Parents whisper tales of garlic socks clearing sniffles while lullabies play.

⚠️ Safety Hat On: Garlic is strong - like a mini superhero, so no direct skin contact. Think of it as the cape, not the hero!

🌿 Nature’s Way vs. The Pharmacy Aisle: No long names, no side quests for prescriptions - just a home remedy versus the cold, old-fashioned way.

- Barbara O'neill 🤔

#pay attention #educate yourselves #educate yourself #reeducate yourself #knowledge is power #reeducate yourselves #think for yourselves #think about it #think for yourself #do your homework #do some research #do your own research #ask yourself questions #question everything #for your health #healthy food #health tips #healing #healthy living

[ladybirdswritings]

Bound - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: The crimson phantom steals you to keep for himself… dark!miguel x reader fic. very steamy as always <3

TW: mentions of kidnapping, abuse, and other dark subjects.

two

The scream, it was an awful and otherworldly sound. A thing meant to only exist in the skin glistening terrors that greet you at nightfall. Yet you were very much awake.

Mother…

Your flame dances by the wind of your hasty departure, it had been serving you well as a gold star lighting the ridiculous letter from lord Wickham of Newbury, a town away. You’d met him once, and a handsome thing he was, undeniably. Yet he was also most successfully a bore. A great one at that.

Perhaps you’re just picky with your men. His sapphire eyes and blonde locks tied back by onyx colored ribbons just weren’t enough to catch your steady eye— much to mama’s dismay. He was far from a poor man, quite the opposite. Yet you swore this to yourself, you wouldn’t marry for anything other than true love. The purest, truest love and adoration like that of storybooks. Like that of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy or Mr. Rochester and Jane Eyre.

So you wouldn’t marry at all, you’d decided. For that kind of longing was far too grand for this simple world with its simple people. This you knew well.

The ink stained paper was waxed and perfected. No stroke faltered or bled from its place. An invite to a ball, as if you had anything other than wool tresses and scratchy cloth to don. You’d prepared to have a laughing fit in your tiny cot at the thought of it all, of a man’s stupidity and their clueless nature but— the scream.

You took the steps two at a time, ignoring their complaints by noisy creaks. Shadows of your siblings circling mama in panic greeted you round the corner. All but the moon and her stars lit the wooden home— besides a single wick candle that dripped on to mama’s wrinkled palm.

She’s a mess of sobs and panic when you reach her, immediately snatching the candle from her palm and placing it in its rightful russet holder. You turn your eyes to your sister, nearly the eldest had you not beat her by a month.

“What’s happened?”

The poor thing, her eyes are wide as the moon herself. Perfect, round circles they are— adorned with cyan and onyx to craft the most delightful gaze. Men throw themselves at her, and for good reason.

“S-she claims to have seen a phantom…”

“I did see a phantom you foolish girl! Right there in the window, clear as morning hour. Can’t you see how my nerves have betrayed me you rodents!? I am being truthful!” She sobs again, face scrunched up into an unpleasant expression.

You swallow, knowing full well what this means. Your eyes shift to little Thomas, adorned in a frayed night shirt and a flimsy cap. His bright blue eyes are worrisome, looking upon you for aid. He’s only six.

You place a cool hand upon his reddened cheek before ordering your sister to help him find slumber in his cot.

You know familiarly what this is and how insignificant it is for him to see it. For you’ve dealt with it in all your time here and it has done nothing more than cause you worry and heartache.

Your palms halt themselves, then find courage in the moment to cautiously rest upon the shoulders of a madwoman.

“Mama, have you taken your medication this evening?” It’s a weak, gentle whisper.

First, you believe yourself to be in the clear. She snaps her head up in panic, and the itch of realization that bites at her gaze relaxes your shoulders for a quick moment; but then, she squints. Before you can straighten your back or step apart from her, she slams her hand hard against your flushed cheek— turning it the color of the mysterious bloom you’d seen in the bend.

Your siblings gasp, falling quiet. Particularly your brother is dismayed, for he averts his eyes and clenches an angry fist. You stumble backward, fingertips grazing the heat of the slap with a certain shakiness. It is your nerves that have fallen sickly now.

It is far from the first time, and it most certainly won’t be the last. You breathe out your frustrations and pain through petal-pink lips— allowing the night itself to have them. Reminding yourself that she is unwell in mindful matters.

She is overtaken with sobs again, murmurs of the phantom and a disappearing flower being planted throughout her words. You swipe away at the warm water rolling singular down your cheek before straightening your back and snatching at the candlestick. You’ll remain strong as the eldest should for your siblings, and for your mother.

“I’ll go search for the phantom, mama. You may watch me from the window if you’d like.”

Worry embroiders itself in her wrinkles, and she reaches a weak hand out for you. You ignore it before making your way past your siblings and out into the icy night.

The creak of the window follows not long after, and your candlestick flame dances wildly with the wind, as though they are in a quarrel. As though they are cross.

You squint, midnight surrounding you. Blackness, nothingness.

Yet even so, you make a show of searching the grassy plain for this phantom she speaks of. You don’t seem to find him.

“Oh sweet girl, have you found the creature yet!?”

Your mother cries. You ignore it, inhaling a shaky breath as the wind lashes its anger upon your skin. The grass is dampened and soft, you’ll have to find new socks for they are browned now by dirt.

A bite of breeze steals the flame from you, and your siblings gasp as your glowing features are taken by the night.

“Be calm! It is just the wind! It is creating faces in midnight, mama. That is all!”

A softer sob now, one of realization and perhaps shame. It renders you content, you can rest now. For the hunger of her paranoia and fantasies are fulfilled.

“Follow the sound of my voice!” Your youngest sister Charlotte calls. It is a faint thing beyond the wind. A faint call.

It is as if onyx curtains have been veiled around your eyes. You search the night for a glisten of light and yet there is none.

Your sister calls again, and you stumble over a vine as you walk further toward her humming.

Your eyes shift to the earth’s core to find that odd blossom from earlier on. A strong color of red and blue— and it seems as though it has the power to shine brightly even at the devil’s hour.

You gape at it, grazing your fingertips cautiously against the petals. You must pluck it and use it to lead your way. Yet soon as your touch greets it, it disappears into darkness— into the night.

You gasp, falling onto your bum at its little trick.

It is you know that has fallen ill with ailments of the mind, it seems. The thought frightens you, enough so that the darkness seems to create more faces now. Enough so that you feel far from alone in the dead of nightfall.

Panic constricts you.

“Call for me again, Charlotte!”

A soft hum, but it sounds so far away now. You take a steeling breath and focus, taking only a selfish moment to hesitate before chasing after the sound. Closer and closer, your arched feet press against soft soil as you near the moonlit window.

Your brother holds a match flame so to find you, and you breathe in relief once you near it. Your nightgown is now stained with mud and the earth, you’ll have to sew another one.

The greeting of panicked eyes settle to relief once you near the window— and yet it is not so far after that they widen to saucers again. Another scream from your mother, then from small Charlotte with glossy eyes.

You gasp, turning against the hold of the night to find two crimson orbs staring right through you.

The phantom.

You know those orbs well.

The mysterious townsman who snatched you from immediate death.

Your body finds itself still, but your mind cannot be. It overtakes you, stumbling you backward till your eldest sister’s palm grazes the muddied gown you wear through the window. Reaching for you through the cries.

She cannot snatch you so soon- for the phantom beats her to it.

The sky itself cracks open in a flash of all the colors your mind can create, and a shadowed creature you’re confined to by the night itself snatches you by waist into the painful sight. It is far too bright for gentle eyes.

The sounds of fading screams and panic pools at the bottom of your pounding chest as you’re rushed through a space only meant to make your head ache. You’re certain you’re stuck in a terror now; but your mind is far too weak to bare it. So? You faint.

In the arms of mother’s phantom and his crimson gaze…

🏷️’s: @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield @poutysprouty @chorizobeets @tabalittlelong @iitangerine @queenb27sblog-blog @dprmooni @neptunieesworld @cyd2301 @amelialysm @justanothers-things @heartfeltlonging @coralreefses @knightowl019

#atsv miguel #miguel 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #dark!fic #dark!miguel o'hara #dark!miguel #miguel smut #miguel imagine #miguel o hara #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara masterlist #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x you #sw&p fic #silken webs & pirouettes fic #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099

[dawnbreakersgaze]

Excuse me but the idea of MC and Xav sitting on their respective balconies and texting each other The Tea while people watching in their neighborhood is both so silly and so endearing to me.

So let's go on a small adventure, shall we?

Warnings: None.

Just fluff. Pure, unadulterated fluff.

The late morning sun was already warming you through the windows of your tiny apartment before you'd even stepped foot outside. It was finally mid-spring in Linkon, which meant you could enjoy your late breakfast on the patio without having to worry about a stray chill or errant frost dampening your weekly Saturday 'brunch' plans.

Opening the patio door with your granola bar in one hand and phone in the other, you settle into the cushioned bench that overlooked your apartment courtyard and took a deep breath. Sometimes it felt like winter was neverending in Linkon, but you could finally feel the tension of the gripping cold that had settled in your bones start to slowly bleed from you.

After getting comfortable, you finally pulled out your phone, and quickly found your brunch 'date's' contact info, sending him the customary "Get up it's people watching hour" text.

[Hey Xav, you up? I'm already on my balcony?]

It doesn't take long for his reply. This has been your weekly tradition for a few months now. Ever since you had both just so happened to see that kid getting dragged down the street by the monstrous hound, it had become something of a... habit for the two of you to text each other the funny happenings on your street when you were home. Not that either of you were particularly prone to gossip, but the simple domesticity of it was oddly comforting after a long week of getting slogged on by wanderers.

[Yeah I'm up. Give me a sec]

The soft ping of your notification broke the peace, followed shortly by the shuffling of his patio door sliding open from above you. Sure, you could simply call out and greet him, as the acoustics out here are great and the soundproofing is atrocious, but the silence is cozy, and the atmosphere almost feels magical. This is your ritual, after all.

It's a bit like a storybook scene, you think, the two of you sharing a moment in time together yet still separated by some outside force. Maybe it was silly, but the fabricated longing almost made it feel romantic in a way that you're sure your neighbor would find ridiculous.

When you hear his footsteps above you come to a halt, you immediately notice something in particular is missing, however.

[You forgot your coffee Xav. Are you gonna be able to stay awake?]

[How could U tell?]

[I didn't smell any burning 🤭🔥]

He doesn't reply, but you can hear the huff he makes over the railing as his footsteps retreat, fading behind the sliding door once again. You don't even try to hold back the laughter his reaction elicits from you, hopeful the concrete carries it to him easily.

When he finally does reemerge, faint smell of bitter charred beans on the wind, his phone is already buzzing with the morning's newest additions to your people watching portfolios.

An older man you'd long ago dubbed "Green Thumb" who liked to frequent the flower garden outside your apartment complex was already taking photos of the new stargazer lily blossoms that had just opened this morning. So enamored by the vibrant petals, he didn't even seem to notice the couple he'd backed into who'd happened to spill their groceries all over the sidewalk. You heard Xavier call "Watch out!" From above you when he'd recognized the impending impact, but at your distance, it was no use.

[That was nice of you Xav. Too bad it didn't help 🫠]

[I can't believe they didn't see Green Thumb. He was so hard to miss. Even when Ur distracted U still see better]

[HEY! I'm not the one who sleep walks! 💀]

[And yet I'm always there to guard Ur back partner]

He's right of course, though you're not going to tell him. Xavier likes to play the part of a soft and harmless little thing, but it doesn't take much to stoke the hunter into burning hotter than you intended. His evol might be light, but you know better than anyone that light, under careful concentration, can start a blazing fire if you're not mindful. His teasing isn't ever harmful though, so instead you decide to simply poke the bear.

[Only because I'm starting to suspect you like it back there]

The distinct sound of a phone accidentally hitting the concrete marks the end of that thread.

Its not long before another of your regulars, pair of young kids Xavier had called the Trouble Twins arrived on scene. Aptly named for the number of times their poor mother has chastised them for chasing the ducks and picking the flowers, the siblings were quite the rambunctious duo. Today they seem to be a few steps ahead of their vigilant mother, rushing into the park with high-pitched hollers and improvised swords made of small branches they'd found. Today's unfortunate conquest seemed to be the pigeons that were being fed by the local grannies.

[They look like a pair of knights today don't they?]

[Knights? Don't knights usually protect people?]

[Maybe they're protecting us from the pigeons]

[Xavier those old ladies look pretty mad idk. That one even tried to chase the boy and almost caught him!]

The pause in messages was punctuated by his soft laughter above you, carried on the spring breeze. It was so warm, so genuine, so comfortable. You didn't need a mirror to feel the heat bloom in your cheeks; the overwhelming sensation of ardor flooding you at the the very sound.

[You're right. He needs more training. A good Knight should never be caught by an old lady]

[.... I don't think that's the message here Xav]

The rest of your morning goes back and forth like this for another hour. Watching your favorite people pass by, concocting new and interesting stories for them as they pass your balconies. Xavier has very interesting and oddly insightful opinions on those around him, considering you don't really recall seeing him with many friends. None the less, his company and companionship on your balconies has easily become your favorite part of the week. The only noises between you are the laughter that passes back and forth as the texts volley from one to another.

Finally, as the afternoon sun starts to become an uncomfortable heat, your phone chimes once more.

[I'm getting kind of hungry]

[Oh good. You're warning me this time. Thanks!]

[What?]

[No. I was going to ask if U wanted to go to lunch. With me, I mean?]

And just like that, the storybook was snapping shut. No longer a fragment lost in time where two people gazed at the same scene together from two separate places, but a tangible moment you could step into. Something intimate and real.

Perhaps you stayed in this thought a moment too long, or your silence below him made him second guess himself, as the chime of your phone snapped you out of your daze again.

[I didn't mean to impose if U have plans]

[I know it's Ur day off too]

Fumbling with the suddenly slippery device, softly cursing, and praying he didn't hear, you quickly hammer out the only thing that's been playing in your head on repeat-

[Yes absolutely! I'd love to grab some lunch I'm starving]

[Meet me downstairs in 30?]

#look i had 3 hours of sleep and i chose to this idk why #written in a single go like a psychopath #and now im going to bed gnight ♡ #lnds #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love & deepspace #xavier #xavier love and deepspace #xavier lnds #xavvy baby #kay writes #this text was just too cute I had too i was over come with emotions #god why is Xavier so adorable ugh #so soft boy sometimes i love himb #also- #not proofread we die like men #sorry im Le~ tired ill edit tomorrow

[artist-issues]

What Even Are Disney Princesses?

I think two things make Disney Princesses super-successful. The first thing is that they’re “One of Us.” The second thing is, they’re “Examples of Superheroic Character.” Not as in “super-power,” but as in, “strength of values.” Just like the best super-heroes (like Spidey) usually are. The difference is, Disney Princesses don’t (usually) have superpowers that show off their strength of character—so how they respond to circumstances is what shows off their strength of character, instead.

For example:

Ariel’s One of Us

It’s ironic but it’s true. She’s the modern catalyst for this idea. She’s “the girl next door.” Every single person can relate to wanting more than what you have even if what you have is wonderful; every single person who’s been a teenager can relate to wanting to be understood, and feeling this horrible tension between loving what they’ve got but feeling like what they’ve got doesn’t fit anymore as they grow up.

She’s got these sweet little moments where she doesn’t know how a fork works but she’s so excited to see one and then embarrassed when she gets funny looks for brushing her hair with it. She sobs and runs away from an argument where her dad isn’t listening to her. She laughs at herself for pretending to be engaged to Eric’s statue. And tiny changes are made so that we think of her less as a mermaid or a princess and more as one of us—nobody ever calls her “Princess” regularly, except the bad guy. AND

Ariel’s Superheroic Character

Ariel has a strength of faith that many of us can only dream of. She learns a tiny piece of truth—that humans make wonderful things—and from that, she chooses to believe that all of her culture’s history, everything her dad says, and even the fact that her own mother was killed by humans, is wrong. When she says, “I don’t see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad,” she’s doing what so few of us are capable of: she’s taking truth, and acting upon it, instead of going with the crowd and listening to the popular opinion.

She does the same thing when she learns that Eric is a selfless, noble, self-sacrificial human—she knows those things are true, so she chooses to love him and sacrifice for him, against all odds and hard circumstances. We’d all like to be the kind of people who can do that, so that’s why she’s a good example.

Another example!

Belle’s One of Us

We can all relate to feeling lonely, and out of place. To feeling like we want what we see in stories—adventure, big, epic lives—and then finding out that what we really want is the thing that makes those stories worthwhile: love, simple and plain. Love that sees our inner world and meets us there.

She has these tiny moments of trying to talk to people about what she’s really excited and passionate about in her stories, but people who can only see the work and day-to-day in front of their noses don’t get it. She’s charmed and excited by things that are charming, like dancing silverware. She rages to herself about annoying suitors while she does her chores. She’s afraid of things that make sense to be afraid of, like hungry wolves and horrifying beasts. And she misses her father, even when she’s living the storybook adventure she’s always dreamed of, and she isn’t afraid to show it.

AND

Belle’s Superheroic Character

Belle has this almost-unattainable, inspiring character trait of self-sacrifice. She’s read books about heroes her whole life. She’s dreamt of freedom and adventure. But she gives it all up for her father, and sacrifices her independence, her home, her only source of love, to be like the heroes in her storybooks, even though she’s done nothing deserving of that fate. And considering her relationship with Gaston, we know that what she’s really giving up is every dream and every love to live with her worst nightmare—chained to a tyrant who’s cruel and self-focused.

But she does it anyway. And she doesn’t stop there. She makes the most of her situation—not by breaking her word and trying to get free, but by being willing to see that there’s more to that self-focused tyrant than she originally thought. By believing, once he shows her that he has enough good in him to save her life, that that good can be coaxed out and strengthened, and even loved. She’s this high ideal of self-sacrifice at every decision she makes.

I could add to this post with every single Disney Princess from Snow White to Moana, but I don’t have to. You guys know what I mean! The Disney Princesses have hearts that are everything we wish we could be—and because they’re also relatable humans, they make us believe that we could one day have the same hearts, too.

It’s never about their ability to sing, or have tiny waists, or big eyes, or healing hair and freezing powers and magic mermaid voices. It’s about their strength of character.

#Disney princess #Disney princesses #character analysis #characters #analysis #meta #film analysis #earth and the beast #the little mermaid #tangled #Snow White #Cinderella #faith #sleeping beauty #Moana #princess and the frog #Disney #the real Disney

[siphoklansan]

1,000 𝐟𝗼𝐥𝐥𝗼𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝗺𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝗼𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧🍾🎉

꧁𝐏𝐢𝐧-𝐂𝐡𝐚꧂

ปิญชาน์ (ทองคำ) ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Legends say that these signs are the births of angels.”

Height : 119 cm.

Birthday : 25th of January

Age : 8

Homeland : Unknown

Best Subject : Unknown

Club : Home Economics

Talents : Can clean very well

Hobby : cleaning, reading storybooks

Dislikes : crows

Favorite Food : Asian Pear (สาลี่), honey

Least Favorite Food : seafood.

꧁𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜꧂

- "𝐀𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝗼𝐝𝐲" The ability to summon small tiny golden spirits, about the size of wisps, by blowing a conch shell into a song. The user is then able to control these spirits. However, it is a docile ability. The spirits are too small to be aggressive. But who knows if they will grow larger by the age of the user….

- 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐫𝗼𝗺 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 : Legends say that if a child is born from a conch shell, it means that an angel has been born. The truth in this legend remains unknown. However, due to Pin-Cha being born born from said conch, he has a unique ability to contact and communicate with spirits.

- 𝐒𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 : Highly sensitive to magic and can see ghosts, spirits, demons, or supernaturals of the like.

꧁𝐅𝐮𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐀𝐛𝗼𝐮𝐭 𝐏𝐢𝐧-𝐂𝐡𝐚꧂

- Pin-Cha is inspired by a character from a Thai literature piece called “สังข์ทอง” (Sang-Tong). Which directly translates to “Golden Conch”. The story is about a woman who gave birth to a conch! It is also a legend that, as stated above, if a child is born from a conch (or if you gave birth to it) it means that an angel has been born! Kinda weird, but fascinating in its own way🕺✨

- That said, his name “Pin-Cha” means “Gold”. I was looking for synonyms for gold in Thai and thought this sounded kinda cute😭 his name kinda sounds like “pinch”. Gotta make a dad joke with that some day-

- I struggled a lot with his hair- it’s very different from the first draft. And his eyes were supposed to be big and round😞 but I still liked how he turned out! I’ll draw his OG eyes in comics next time💓

- In the story, from how I remember, every time the mother goes out, a young boy (Sang-Tong) would come out of the conch and start cleaning the house. He would immediately go back in once his mother comes back. That’s why I made Pin-Cha’s ability to be quite docile, so he can use those spirits to help him clean the halls of Royal Sword Academy🫶

- Pin-Cha doesn’t wear shoes. But he has these two rings on his ankles that have bells on them. So every time he walks runs, you will here TINGLE TINGLE TINGLKEKJTINGW TING TING TINGJNGJRIFJEKF yeah. That’s when you know he’s near 🔔

꧁𝐀𝐛𝗼𝐮𝐭 𝐏𝐢𝐧-𝐂𝐡𝐚꧂

- He’s quite timid and shy, very soft spoken and polite. Pin-Cha is all-in-all a good boy— the golden boy of royal sword academy (some might say.)

- Pin-Cha has never known his parents. The only parental figure he’s ever had, and still has, is the headmaster of Royal Sword Academy. The headmaster is a father figure to Pin-Cha, and the boy wishes he could call the headmaster “papa” some day.

- The headmaster allows Pin-Cha to attend classes, and the boy does! Even though he doesn’t understand what the lessons are all about, he still likes to observe how a lecture works. But he usually cleans the academy most of the time.

- Although Pin-Cha is a sweet boy, he sometimes wishes he was….cool.

- Because when he was allowed to visit Night Raven College, he immediately laid eyes on a rowdy group of students. A red-haired boy with a heart on his cheek, another boy with a spade on his cheek, a young girl and a…talking cat?

- He saw how much they laughed together. He saw how much they do all sorts of weird things— especially that talking cat and the girl. Pin-Cha just wished he could climb trees and act crazy like they do.

- And then he began his “rebellious” journey….the most he did was eat pizza with a fork (he thought that was evil.)

- Pin-Cha still has a long way to go , it seems!✨

Bonus!✨ (this is the first draft a d full-body)

*cue me taking off my glasses in shock while staring at the screen* BECAUSE WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL I DID NOT EXPECT MY ACCOUNT TO GET SO FAR??? I SERIOUSLY CANNOT THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR BEING PATIENT WITH ME AND ENJOYING MY WORKS!🥹💓 Seriously, though. I’m really grateful for you all! All the reblogs and comments always make my day. And thank you so much for being patient (again) for putting up with my hiatus-ass cuz damn commissions are beating my ass up (as well as school and burnout but we don’t talk about that—)

Anyway, I still have a lot- and I mean A LOT of more works up my sleeves like the late Anan birthday card, a mutual of mine’s birthday art, two big projects and many more💖💖 I hope you guys enjoy this little cutie patootie while I clear up all my commissions so I can come back online again💞💞🥹🫶🫶

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #oc #original character #character design #also another fun fact #Pin-Cha’s pants are called Jong-Kraben (โจงกระเบน) #you may or may not have notice something similar on anan and charin’s design too! #they have a towel wrapped around their waists #and the wrapping technique looks a little similar to the jong kraben #THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH AGAIN I LOVE YOU ALL💓💓💓 #☂︎︎siphok-museum☂︎︎ #Pin-Cha #Pin-Cha ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[tsams-and-co-memes]

LAES Earth Canon Info

Updated - 4/23/24

Earth's likes:

Pink

Barbie movies

Nature

Animals

Tiny things

Love stories

Princesses

Storybooks/fairytales

Phantom of the Opera

Broadway shows/musicals

Beaches

Lilac flowers

The Powerpuff Girls

Wicked

Hair accessories and makeup

Tim Allen

Aquariums

Anime

Tea

PB&J's and grilled cheese sandwiches

Playing with makeup sometimes

Mac n cheese

Soap Operas

Learning other languages

Chinese dramas

Lethal Company, even though it scares her

Garlic bread

Geese

Skyrim

Fries

Earth's dislikes:

Violence

Bloodmoon (based on the way she acts towards/with them)

Eclipse (also based on how she speaks to/acts towards him. She gave him chances to be better than he was currently being, and instead of trying, he opted to keep being a jerk) ((This is subject to change))

Driving

Dora the explorer

Sleeping while shrunk down

Snapple

Miscellaneous:

Unlike Sun and Moon, Earth is capable of eating food (partial retcon. Sun and Moon have apparently started eating food)

She used to prepare food for the creator and have dinner with him

She primarily works with children who have disabilities, and children who require more one one one attention

She has a system/database thing in her head that’s loaded with nothing but puns and jokes

She prefers baths over showers

Earth is a silent rage sort of person when she gets angry

Earth has ADHD

She uses a lot of emojis when texting

Her comfort/coping mechanism is saying “pretty ballerina” and/or singing Barbie Girl

She has 5 journals that she's written in as a coping mechanism

Earth starts her days off with morning yoga (the yoga involves screaming), then from there, she goes to work at the daycare. After she's done for the day, she cleans up the daycare, then goes home and cleans every square inch of her room/Monty’s house. After that, it's bedtime, but if she wakes up in the middle of the night, she may go cook an entire meal

She's a clean freak like Sun, and she needs to start her day off by screaming like Lunar

She's pansexual. Maybe demisexual. We're not sure about the specifics yet. She's more drawn to a person's personality than their gender or appearance (according to info in a video, she doesn’t really identify as anything and is more or less unlabeled)

Earth has very good balance

Earth has been ice skating

#laes earth #tlaes earth #lunar and earth show earth #the lunar and earth show earth #the lunar and earth show #lunar and earth show #laes #tlaes #canon info

[simmillercc]

SIMS 4 - SNUG BOOKSHELF WITH 21 DECO SLOTS - BASE GAME

Especially in tiny home living, sometimes you want a bookshelf, but they're usually too big. This will help your sims have a nice cozy bookshelf without taking up too much space.

This shelf will also help your sims focus and make them a little bit happy while having lots of fun!

There are 2 medium slots for decorating, and 19 small slots, and it comes in 29 awesome colours.

COST: 225

STYLES: Basics, Boho, Contemporary, Cute, Farmhouse, French Country, Island, Mission, Modern, Shabby, Shotgun, Storybook, Suburban Contemporary

MOTIVE: Fun +5

AMBIENCE: Happy +1, Focused +1

This was originally a large double wide bookshelf, but I did a lot of altering on the mesh to get it to where it is now.

POLYGONS:

LOD0 - 293

LOD1 - 229

LOD2 - 190

SHADOW LOD0 - 275

SHADOW LOD1 - 211

SHADOW LOD2 - 172

Enjoy!

DOWNLOAD EARLY ACCESS AT CURSEFORGE - RELEASES TO PUBLIC FEBRUARY 4, 2024 

#ts4 shelf #sims 4 shelf #s4 shelf #ts4 shelves #sims 4 shelves #s4 shelves #ts4 buy #sims 4 buy #s4 buy #ts4 bookshelf #ts4 bookcase #sims 4 bookshelf #sims 4 bookcase #s4 bookshelf #s4 bookcase #curseforge

[delimeful]

mere monstrosity (3)

warnings: spider, mild blood & injury, remus-typical death and gore mentions, misunderstandings

-

Remus knew this place was going to be the perfect new home the moment they entered the walls.

It hadn’t looked like much from the outside, sure, but the hollow wall interior was absolutely littered with enough cobwebs and old spiderwebs to mummify a borrower.

As someone with a twin brother to torment, Remus mentally tucked that visual away for future pranks and/or lifelong trauma.

“Oh, excellent,” said the unwitting future victim in question, looking at the nails driven into the wood in a classic borrower staircase pattern. “That’ll make exploring much easier. Maybe we’ll have neighbors!”

Roman was, as always, an incurable optimist. The two of them didn’t tend to have neighbors for long. Remus couldn’t imagine why; he was a delight, and Roman was funny enough to be tolerable.

Case in point, he ran a hand along the metal lining of one of the smaller support beams and grimaced at the thick coat of dust and grime. “Perhaps not the cleanest of neighbors.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Remus replied, shooting his brother an unhinged grin before hurling his pack directly at him, knocking him clean over. “Dibs on the biggest crevice!”

“Oh, you mudstained scourge of the earth—,” Roman started, shoving the bag off himself and scrambling to his feet.

Halfway up the wall, taking the precarious nail stairway two steps at a time, Remus made one of his top five favorite obscene gestures and continued up and around the corner with glee.

The spooky aura only intensified as he scampered down the narrow pathways, shadowy corners with the barest glints of spiderweb strands tucked into every nook and cranny. No corpses yet, but one could always hope.

Roman’s voice had already faded into the distance; Remus had always been the faster between the two of them, particularly with his complete lack of regard for safety when it came to parkouring around any and all potential obstacles.

His Royal Slowpokeness would catch up eventually. How long it would take depended on how soon he remembered to ditch his own pack now that they were out of the elements.

There was a little peephole cleverly carved into a knot of this wall’s baseboard, and Remus paused to take a gander.

A fairly normal living room, to his disappointment. With any luck, the humans would still be entertaining to watch. If they weren’t, Remus wasn’t above sowing a little discord and watching the resulting fallout.

Moving on, he noticed that there were corpses cropping up now, even if they were only of the small insect variety. They didn’t seem as desiccated as the earlier webs; was there still a spider living here? A whole cluster of them, even?

Roman would have an aneurysm. Remus grinned at the idea, hauling himself up onto one of the higher support beams and peering down at the musty dark below as he skipped along it.

There probably weren’t really that many, especially since Remus hadn’t seen even a teensy tiny one yet. Not that he had to tell Roman that.

“Um,” a voice ahead of him started, “please don’t freak out.”

Now, there was a sentence that almost always preceded something interesting and/or freaky! Remus’s head snapped around with eager anticipation.

It took a moment to spot them properly— Remus had assumed the voice was coming from another borrower, and had started scanning the area at his eye level or lower, since he was on the taller side for a borrower.

As it turned out, he should have started high.

Because lurking in the shadows over the next support beam was a stranger that was a good arms’ length taller than Remus. One that had about half a dozen too many legs to be your standard borrower.

“Holy shit, it’s Spiderman!” Remus crowed, nearly vibrating with excitement.

The stranger looked like something out of an old storybook, with a mostly normal upper half stacked on top of a sizable tarantula body. They were wearing a patched up hoodie, but from what he could see, the transition from human to spider was seamless, like one of those part-horse people from the fantasy movies their last house had been so into. A spider centaur.

They didn’t seem set to charge at him like some more aggressive breeds of spiders would, expression pinched but not angry. Their front legs were lifted slightly in defensive alarm, but their human arms were also lifted, palms out, in a ‘don’t attack’ sort of gesture.

Or a preparation to attack, if they could shoot webbing from their hands like the spiderguy from the movies.

Either way, Remus strode closer, his grin widening to painful. “What are you? Do you live here? Do you eat borrowers? Are you going to dissolve my organs?”

The spidercentaur skittered back slightly, eyes going wide. This was a fairly standard response to Remus, really, but he couldn’t deny a tinge of pride at the fact that he could induce it in even spider monster creatures considerably larger than him.

“No!” he blurted, spider legs lifting higher for a moment before they regathered their wits. “I mean, no, I don’t eat people. I’m— I’m not going to hurt you.”

Sounded like there weren’t any mummified borrowers already here after all. Bummer.

“Aw, boo,” Remus said, slowing his pace slightly in hopes of making his new friend less skittish. This was one neighbor he absolutely didn’t want to scare off. “You’ve really never wanted to bite any annoying new neighbors?”

Spiderguy blinked a few times, but ultimately answered, “I don’t typically have neighbors long enough to get annoyed by them. Not ones my size, anyhow.”

If most borrowers couldn’t handle Remus, it made sense that they wouldn’t properly appreciate a horrifying spidercentaur as a wallmate, either. Wait, did that last bit imply they’d felt the urge to bite annoying humans? Oh, this was going to be so fun.

First, though, they needed to be reassured that their days of accidental terror-induced isolation were over. They’d figure out pretty quickly that Remus was harder to scrape off than chewed gum on the bottom of a shoe. Grosser, too.

“Well, you’re in luck!” he informed them, bounding forward once more with the half-formed intention of standing on his toes and attempting to sling an arm around their shoulders. “I consider myself something of a professional nuisance, so you’ll have opportunities abound to get annoyed and—!”

Spiderguy’s expression went alarmed, and they reached forward with the first syllables of a warning on their tongue, but Remus had already stepped forward and found nothing but empty air.

He toppled off the support beam with a comical screech, and felt his downward momentum stalled for the briefest moment by the unmistakable sensation of clinging spiderweb.

The angle of his descent changed, but the velocity didn’t, and he barely even registered the change before he was slamming, skull first, into something solid enough to make him see stars.

Wow, he thought in his last half-second of consciousness, it looks like I was the mummified borrower corpse all along.

—

Roman had utterly and totally lost track of his wayward twin.

This was both a common occurrence and a deeply unfortunate one.

Especially since there might be other borrowers living here. Ones that were in no way prepared to face the full impact of Remus’s unexpected presence without Roman there to soften the blow.

“Remus!” he tried to shout, but it came out as more of a wheeze as he pushed himself up the latest set of stairs. “I’m going to write you out of my will, you atrocious little abomination!”

No response. Not even the distant ruckus of Remus flinging himself over lethal falls with gleeful abandon.

They were so going to get kicked out within the day. Roman was tired of running around in the muck and dodging errant wildlife at every hour, dammit! He wanted to take a day-long nap, drink some tap-cold water, and steal cute fabrics from humans! Probably even in that order!

Huffing in frustration, he strode forward, shivering with disgust as a web strand grazed his arm.

This place was practically cloaked in them; his desperate hope that they wouldn’t have to deal with any creepy crawlies was dying a slow, agonized death the further he went.

If anyone did live here, they might be just as content with the disgusting and distressing as Remus was. The thought made him shudder. One of his brother was more than enough for the world. In fact, he’d rather deal with the spiders.

Half a foot ahead, where the hall ended, movement caught his gaze. Roman stopped dead.

A single, huge, hairy appendage was poking out from around the corner. After a moment, another joined it. And another.

Roman took it back. He took it back so hard.

Despite his sudden realization that two of Remus would be fine actually, the unmistakably arachnid legs continued to edge out in front of him, bringing with them a round thorax that was almost as big as him on its own.

Swallowing thickly, Roman reached up to silently grab the hilt of his sword. He suddenly wished he had something more versatile than his classic sewing pin saber.

The tarantula crept further into view, and Roman blanched at the sight of a very non-arachnid head and torso attached to the spider, its form slightly bent over as it slowly dragged something along with it.

Forget weird neighbors. There were actual monsters in this house.

It was only years of practice keeping his volume down even in the most heated of arguments with his brother that let him wrangle down a shriek loud enough for humans three houses over to hear.

As a result, the actual sound he produced was something like a strangled yelp, too quiet to make it past the walls, but more than enough to make the monster’s head snap around.

“Uh,” it said eloquently, and dropped what it’d been dragging around the corner. “This isn’t what it looks like?”

The odd thump of it hitting the ground finally tore his gaze away from those too-many legs, and Roman looked down to see Remus.

His brother, uncannily silent. Face slack and body unmoving. Half of him covered in thick strands of webbing.

There was blood trailing down one side of his face.

Roman wasn’t sure precisely what his face did in response to the sight, but it was telling enough to make the monster scramble back a few steps, hands raising in faux-innocence.

His former terror had transmuted into something sharper. Something far more dangerous.

“Hold on, I swear—,” it started.

Roman drew his sword, and it was smart enough to stop talking and start running.

—

Virgil was going to die from the stupidest misunderstanding imaginable.

He scrambled down the nearest set of support struts so quickly he almost tripped over his own legs, ignoring the instincts shrieking in the back of his mind that demanded he go up.

A very determined borrower could get just about anywhere a spider could climb, and if Virgil got cornered, he was screwed.

A stab from a pointed skewer like that wasn’t guaranteed to hit one of his lower organs on the first try, but the odds were uncomfortably high. It would be a slow, painful, internal-bleeding sort of death.

No, what he needed wasn’t some shadowy nook to get trapped in. He needed open space, the unsheltered kind that most wall-dwellers avoided like the plague.

Mostly because it was just as likely to get one killed as the plague. If this had happened a month ago, Virgil wouldn’t have even dreamed of a plan like this. He would have gladly taken the inevitable stabbing over rushing out into the humans’ living room, scurrying over the exposed carpet for all to see.

Especially since he knew exactly who was sitting at the desk in the corner of the room at this time of day, right on schedule.

The other borrower was still following him with the sort of intensity that suggested he wanted nothing more than Virgil’s head on a pike.

Seeing as he looked eerily similar to the borrower that Virgil had been lugging around the bloody unconscious body of, the assumption was probably pretty spot-on.

The entrance he was seeking was dead ahead, and he couldn’t help the surge of relief as he bolted through it, tearing the wallpaper a little further in the process. It felt unnatural to reveal himself so brazenly, but Virgil imagined being stabbed would feel worse.

He didn’t actually have to go all the way over to the desk, not when any borrower with sense would surely stop at the doorway, but he didn’t know what else to do, and his nerves were already too fried to feel his usual anxiety about interacting with a human.

Wait. Any borrower with sense—

Virgil twisted to check over his shoulder, and yelped at the sight of his pursuer, still right on his tail.

“Are you crazy?” he demanded, his heart pounding as he scrambled away on half-numb legs.

“Nobody tries to murder my brother and gets away with it,” the borrower shouted at him, lifting his sword higher as he charged.

Virgil flinched back, sure that he was moments away from sharp, blinding pain—

A shadow fell over them, and he opened his eyes in time to see the borrower’s expression drop into sheer terror before a wall slammed between them with a ground-shaking thump.

Virgil’s limbs curled up automatically, even as he recognized the interceding wall— an oversized hand. He followed the connected arm up, craning his neck to stare up at the face of the human looming over them.

Oh. The humans looming over them.

“Stop that immediately,” Logan commanded, his expression just as thunderous as his voice. His other hand was cupped, hovering just shy of Virgil as though entirely prepared to bodily shelter him from danger.

It should have felt dangerous, but when Virgil’s legs moved, it was to shuffle just a little further under the shadow of that protective hand.

Standing behind Logan, Janus looked Virgil over intently for a moment before sliding his narrow gaze towards the borrower.

“I’d listen,” he leaned forward over Logan’s shoulder with a sharp-edged smile that promised nothing but trouble. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to try your luck with a more willing opponent.”

Virgil felt a sense of foreboding as he watched the situation begin to spiral entirely out of control. He’d fled the walls in the hopes that with some distance forced between them, the situation would defuse enough to explain the misunderstanding. Instead, he’d gotten his pursuer pinned under the attention of two blatantly pissed humans.

So much for good first impressions.

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides g/t #ts remus #ts roman #ts virgil #ts logan #ts janus #borrowers #mere monstrosity #mm #my writing #writing

[itsmemona]

I have the personal headcanon that Rui and Nene frequented their local library as children. Sometimes staying there until closing hours with their parents or by themselves, reading storybooks, screenplays, theatre scripts and random trivia together. Saving up their pocket money to borrow musical CDs and DVDs for just a while longer. Rui always leaving with a pile of books stacked up in his arms about all kinds of things that caught his interest and Nene, usually only with a book or two, helping him carry all of them home as she fondly listens to tiny Rui ramble about the little treasures he found that day. The librarians must have wondered why these two rascals suddenly stopped coming by in middle school...

#ruinene #nenerui #project sekai

[taurusmoonchild]

Warmth of Home

Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley no TW this is just fluff <3

read here or on AO3 ____

Feburary 4th, 2007

Hermione huffed as she stepped into the cosy warmth of her family’s little cottage. It had been a long and exhausting day at the Ministry and she could still feel the weight of paperwork on her shoulders. She brushed the snow off her coat before taking it off and hanging it up. Stepping out of her uncomfortable boots into her comfortable house slippers. It was late and the house was dark. As she walked through the hallway she spotted a dim light coming from their living room. She approached it slowly, careful not to make too much noise and peeked through the slightly ajar door.

Inside, on the sofa, sat Ron, his lanky frame folded up to accommodate their daughter, Rose. She looked so small next to him, her tiny hands clutching Ron’s shirt and her breathing slow and soft. She was fast asleep, but that didn’t stop Ron from reading aloud from a brightly illustrated storybook on his lap. 

Hermione watched and listened as his voice took on different accents and tones for each of the characters in the book. She smiled and her heart swelled with love for her two favourite people in the world. 

Not wanting to disturb the precious scene before her, she quietly approached the sofa. Ron glanced up, a wide grin on his face as he saw her.

“You’re home,” he whispered, careful not to disturb the tiny human that lay against him.

Hermione nodded, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“It’s aight, we are busy reading anyway,” he put the book down, “or well, were busy reading until a certain someone fell asleep.” Ron brushed a lock out of Rose’s face and smiled at her, “How can someone be so perfect?” He asked no one in particular.

Hermione couldn't help but smile even more than before.

Ron turned his attention back to Hermione as she sat down next to him and leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips "How was your day?"

"Long," Hermione sighed, “too long.” She wrapped an arm around Ron and leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling the tension of the day melt away. "But seeing you two like this makes it all worth it."

“I’m glad,” Ron whispered into her hair as he pressed another kiss to her head.

Together, the three of them sat in comfortable silence, the only noise being the soft snores of their daughter. 

December 28th, 2021

Hermione hated working between Christmas and the New Year, but being the Minister of Magic meant she had no choice. The cold air stung her face as she hurried down the street to get home. As she stepped through the front door of their home, the weariness of the day began to weigh heavily upon her shoulders. However, the sight that greeted her in the living room instantly melted away her exhaustion.

There, on the large, comfortable sofa, lay her husband Ron. Their daughter Rose had her head lying on his lap and Hugo was sprawled across the other side of the sofa next to Rose, his feet just inches away from her head. Together they were a tangled heap of limbs and blankets. Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene. It was rare that her two children got along and she knew once Rose woke up Hugo would get hexed for putting his feet too close to her face.

The voices of the Christmas movie playing on the telly were the only noise filling the room. Hermione tiptoed closer, careful not to disturb the peaceful slumber of her family, and sat down on the edge, her eyes lingering on each of their peaceful faces. Ron stirred slightly at her presence, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment before he smiled sleepily at Hermione.

"Hey there, love," he murmured, his voice warm with affection.

"Hey," Hermione whispered back, brushing a gentle kiss against his forehead. "How long have you guys been like this?"

Ron shrugged, his gaze drifting fondly to their children. "Not sure. I’m guessing I was the first to doze off"

Hermione chuckled softly, “Nothing new then?”

“Rude,” he grinned.

Hermione shifted closer to her husband and reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Rose’s ear. Her heart swelled with gratitude and pride for the beautiful family she and Ron had created.

“They are growing up too quickly,” she sighs.

Ron chuckles as he leans his head against Hermione, “I think they’re growing up just fine,” he whispers.

Hermione opens her mouth to retort but decides against it as her eyes fall on her husband who already had his eyes closed again. She leans into the back of the sofa and watches as Ron slides down her side, now halfway lying against her side and halfway across her lap. She shakes her head but smiles running her hands through his locks.

As she sat there in silence trying to grasp the plot of the film playing in front of her she could only think about how lucky she was. At that moment, Hermione knew that no matter how hectic life and her job could be, as long as she had Ron and their children by her side, she had everything she needed to find peace and happiness.

#harry potter series #ron x hermione #ronmione #romione #hermione granger #ron weasley #harry potter #romione fanfic #hermione x ron #hp fanfic

[crestfallercanyon]

I don't think this is long enough to be a real fic, and it's also not polished as I wrote it in a notes app on a plane, but have a little gallavich ficlet:

Title: A Way to Keep the Nice Things Ship: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich Content Warning: Mental Health, Bipolar Disorder, Hallucinations

Ian recognizes that he needs to take his meds, and maybe even book an appointment, solely based on what he sees when he walks into the kitchen that morning.

Still, he can’t help but stare.

Their apartment floor has little knots in the designing of the boards, trying to fake wood grain, knolls where if it were a tree — and if it were ever real — may have held a nest once. Ian has thought about that before, the potential creatures that could have called their cabinets or their floors home, has imagined it when he’s tired or high, always intrigued by the pattern and the choice to try to give the linoleum a life it never actually had.

That’s imagination. Ian can tell when he’s imagining things. Has a very active imagination — very helpful during sex — and it’s especially ramped up when he’s high.

This is different.

Inside one of the knolls this morning there is something blooming. Lush green and yellow moss spills out of the floor and sways in a breeze that doesn’t exist. A night sky exudes from it, a dark purple mist that floats just inches above the ground, thinking with impossibly tiny stars. The starts of blue flowers are budding in the darkness of the wood grain, the petals a pale blue that Ian decides are the start of stargazer lilies.

It’s beautiful. It’s mystic and wonderful and if he were a child he’d believe he was about to be chosen for some great adventure. If this were a storybook, he’d be Lucy in the coat closet on her way to Narnia. Except he is not a child, this is not something he’s imagining. If he reaches down, he could touch the moss and confirm it to his own senses, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t because he’s lucid enough to know this is not real. Worse than a mirage, this is a hallucination. It makes Ian sad, distantly, that something so pretty is such a warning sign. Not that unlike how venomous snakes are vivid in color, or how poisonous flowers try to draw the eye.

Mickey walks by him, headed for coffee, another solid reason this isn’t real. Mickey would notice something like this. Instead he asks, “Hey. Whatcha staring at?”

This is beautiful, and Ian’s the only one who can see it, and that in and of itself is the problem.

“Just thinking,” Ian lies. It’s not meant to be a permanent lie. He just doesn’t want to lose the sight of something like this so quickly.

Shuffling footsteps, the sound of poured coffee. The misty galaxy above the ground swirls up, mimicking the twister that’s surely in Mickey’s coffee cup. Then the strong scent of coffee is filling his nose, and Mickey is right next to him, holding a cup for him.

“Ian,” Mickey starts, already in that firm tone of hey, do not bullshit me, which Ian doesn’t mean to, he swears. “What are you staring at?”

“Can you get me my meds?” Ian asks, not taking his eyes off the little world in the floor. “I haven’t taken ‘em yet this morning.”

Time, which already stretches and shrinks like a weak rubber band in the dark morning anyway, is particularly hard to track when Ian’s off like this, because he swears it’s two seconds before Mickey’s back and shoving a piece of toast in his mouth. When Ian obediently chews — because he is listening Mick, okay, he swears — Mickey also holds up his pills and water.

“Would you look at me for a second?” Mickey’s voice is no longer in the firm tone, but is a little wary, and a little small, and Ian picks up his head immediately.

Ian smiles at him. Gulps down his pills, wraps an arm around Mickey, and with his water wet mouth he kisses Mickey right on his temple. “Mornin’”

Mickey smiles back, but his eyebrows are furrowed. “Where’ve you been this morning?”

Ian looks down. The little greenery is still on the floor. Meds don’t work that fast.

“Sometimes… sometimes I hate that I have to take my meds.” That sentiment has every alarm in Mickey’s body ringing, Ian knows, so he grabs him tight to assure him. “Not like that. It’s just — sometimes, what I see is nice. It’s actually nice and good a thing I get to have that no one else gets to see. But I have to stop it, because — because it’s not right.” Ian blinks, looks around, and Mickey hands him his coffee. Ian hugs him tight again. “Am I making any sense?”

Mickey considers. Nods, though it’s not all that confident, but he understands well enough. “What have you been looking at?”

Ian grimaces. “Not sure it’s your kind of thing. But it was nice.”

“C’mon. Tell me.”

“I don’t want to worry you.”

“Not worried.” Mickey puts his hand in Ian’s hair. “Want to hear it. Not just the bad shit, though you know I want hear that, too. But just, if it’s nice, then I want to know that stuff, too.”

Ian hums. Takes a sip of his coffee.

Then he decides, why not? Of all the stuff they’ve had to hear from each other and their families over the year, this is hardly the thing that’s going to send Mickey running.

Ian looks down and starts to detail it. Gets really specific, because if Mickey wants to know, then Ian’s going to try to help him see it too. It must take some time, because Mickey hops up on the back of their couch and is almost done with his cup by the time Ian’s finished. Ian’s own cup is a little cold and could use about twenty seconds in the microwave.

He looks at Mickey, and isn’t sure what he’s going to find. Finds himself grinning when he sees the fond smile that’s on Mick’s face.

“So, yeah. That’s all.”

“Sounds nice, Red.”

“Yeah.”

Ian isn’t sure what to say anymore. Is weirdly embarrassed to be so enthralled by something like this. Something that is not even real. Mick’s probably able to tell that Ian’s squeamish about it, because he doesn’t say anything more. Simply drops off the back of the couch and walks up to him. Pats his cheek.

“Let’s get ready to go, eh?”

_____

It’s not until a few days later that it’s brought up again, and it’s not even direct. A journal that Ian was given by a counselor maybe a year ago that was meant for him to get into journaling and he never could, is set out on the nightstand.

“Where’d you find this?” Ian asks.

There’s a moment where he thinks Mickey is going to act like he wasn’t the one who pulled it out. However, there’s only two of ‘em in this place, so it had to be, so he gives it up before he even begins.

“Thought you could write the nice shit down,” he says, trying to sound casual, but Ian knows how much he’s been turning this over in his head. “Or whatever you want. But that way it doesn’t totally go away. Since, y’know, you don’t like that you have to lose that kind of thing.” Mickey shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but Ian’s eyes are bugging out of his head. “Know Franny would love hearin’ about what you see. Debbie says she can’t read the kid enough fairytales.”

Ian blinks at him. His heart aches in a soft way, over ripened fruit, overwhelmed by sweetness.

He walks over to Mickey with his arms open. “C’mere.”

“Oh, don't go gettin' all doe-eyed—”

“Hug me, asshole.”

Mickey scoffs, wraps one arm around him, but when Ian drapes himself all over him, Mickey laughs and wraps both arms around him. Ian nuzzles into his neck. “Thanks for watchin’ out for me,” he mumbles.

Mickey’s hand buries into Ian’s hair, and Ian sighs. “‘Course. You’re my husband.”

#ficlet #my ficlet #gallavich #shameless (us) #ian gallagher/mickey milkovich #hallucinations #bipolar disorder #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #domestic bitches