#where the lark sings

[rayatii]

OKAY, so I recently discovered that there is an operetta by Lehár (whom most of you might recognize as the guy who composed The Merry Widow) called Wo die Lerche singt ("Where the lark sings"), and from what I've seen (I haven't actually seen it, bc the only production I could find online has no subs, I can't find a libretto translated into either of the languages I know better, and my German isn't good enough as of yet; please do link me some sources if you can find them), it looks like a cousin of La rondine ("The swallow"). I first read about this operetta and its parallels to its Italian counterpart in this New York Times article (sorry for those stuck behind the paywall, Tumblr wouldn't let me properly link the VERY long paywall-free URL, so PM me if you want the full article), and I have decided to analyze the similarities between the two:

Both works are based on a libretto written by Alfred Maria Willner and Heinz Reichert. The aforementioned New York Times article seems to go as far as to call Wo die Lerche singt a "remixed La rondine"; altho it was technically based on some play Dorf und Stadt ("village and city") by one Charlotte Birch-Pfeiffer (but no one knows about it, so let's just skip it for now), one might say it's a sort of revised version of writers' libretto Die Schwalbe (ALSO "the swallow") that La rondine was explicitly based on.

The plots mirror each other in a sort of opposite way: La rondine concerns a Parisian courtesan who falls in love with an innocent country boy but is then driven by her dubious past to leave him and return to the city to her rich benefactor, whereas Wo die Lerche singt is apparently about a Hungarian peasant girl who travels to the city and falls in love with a painter who breaks her heart(?), which prompts her to return to the countryside to her peasant fiancé.

Birdies.

In conclusion, La rondine and Wo die Lerche singt are cousins. Fight me.

#raya reflects #opera #operetta #la rondine #puccini #giacomo puccini #wo die lerche singt #where the lark sings #lehár #franz lehár #lehar #franz lehar

[birdybellicose]

The corners of Lark’s mouth lifted into an almost smile at Nick’s singing as he tried to make himself more comfortable in his friend’s lap, feeling oddly safer than he had ever felt in a long time. 

He falls asleep to Nick’s voice and the hypnotic twang of guitar strings in the air, the lyrics flowing out of Nick’s mouth like liquid honey. Lark falls asleep before he can understand the full weight of the song Nick chose to “practice” with, or notice how hushed and breathless Nick’s voice had suddenly become.

Nick continued to sing that same song long after Lark falls asleep, long enough for the itch of caressing Lark’s face to become downright unbearable. Nick suddenly paused and his left hand slowly uncurled and slid down the fretboard, his eyes trained on the small strands of hair that had fallen over Lark’s eyes. A second later Nick stopped himself, shook his head as if he had been under a spell, and forced himself to play the next guitar riff-- accidentally strumming the strings a little too loudly. Lark stirred and grunted in his sleep for a second before going quiet again. Nick breathed a sigh of relief before chuckling affectionately at the man.

Nick adjusted his old hand-me-down acoustic in his lap and began slowly singing the song again, this time really feeling the lyrics. His voice softly crooned perfect reverence and longing into each verse, heartbreak was evident in the words and all the notes he hit. After awhile, Nick’s lip began to tremble and his eyes burned but he sang on, his left hand now gripping the fretboard so hard it made his knuckles white.

#dndads #Nark #idk man I have a lot of feelings rn #The song Nick sings is up to you! #I have no goddamn idea where this came from wow #im both impressed and annoyed at myself #the sketch I lost passion halfway through for I just wanted it done #The blurb im a little more prouder of #I never thought I would write for Nark I just wanted to stick to hasty sketches every now and then #Actually maybe the song is 'only ones who know' by arctic monkeys #or just good ole I cant help falling in love with you by elvis #It can honestly be whatever you want #lark oak-garcia #nicholas close-foster #my art #my writing #Happy fluffy art contrasted by angsty blurb #What does it mean?I have no idea lol #This was a 2am brainworm I had to get rid of #IS2G the read more better work

[notwarriorswiki]

I'd love to hear your other headcanons whether that involves cute things or their identities!

Ask and you shall receive!!

Doestar and Fallowsong were fond of long walks together. Fallowsong teased her about taking the leader away from her duties, something Doestar always scoffed at. To her, being a good mate was one of her duties

Mothwing loved Leafpool and longed to be with her. She had considered telling her, but after Leafpool ran off with Crowfeather, Mothwing believed her beloved friend would never feel the same. She tucked those feelings close, never once whispering a word to the ThunderClan medicine cat. When Leafpool was killed, Mothwing felt her life grow a bit duller, and only then, after everything, did she actually want those stars above to be real. All so she could see her Leafpool again.

Russetfur had many crushes and flings throughout her life, though nothing ever stuck. She liked she-cats, she'd get the feelings, but the settling down part of a relationship was never in her cards.

Ravenpaw leaned on Barley a lot after leaving ThunderClan. There was a deep trust they had in each other, something that went beyond where they came from. Even when Ravenpaw was offered a seat in ThunderClan, and even the newly formed SkyClan, both he and Barley said no. Even being together in either clan, they didn't want that. Ravenpaw and Barley wanted to live their own lives, without the confines and rules other placed on them. While they deeply loved their friends and family, the two chose to be loners, together, despite the many paws they could turn to.

Darkstripe struggled with compulsory heterosexuality, believing it was what he was meant to do. After all, legacy was of a great honor, and only taking a mate, a she-cat at that, and siring kits would grant him a "true" legacy. He sired Brindleface's kits, giving the she-cat the kits she always wanted without the promise of a relationship. Both were content with this arrangement, relieved in fact. The kits grew up not even knowing their father, for he was so distant that the clan could never have guessed they were his. He buried his feelings for toms deep inside him, seeing them as points of weakness and shame.

Jayfeather was given a great honor by the stars above, the creator beyond StarClan. He could walk with them forever, becoming immortalized in history and the stars as Blue Jay, the patron true to ones self. But in being the Blue Jay, being true to himself, he could never do that. After completing his journey and giving up his blessed powers, Jayfeather willingly returns to his mortal body to continue walking with his beloved friends and family, rather than passing on to a path of glory. His heart would always belong to Kestrelflight, and though they couldn't be together, they always knew they were under that same starry sky, just a single moor hill away.

When Jayfeather fell during the Great Battle, Kestrelflight wouldn't leave his side. Though the ThunderClan medicine cat still breathed, he did not wake. For a moon's time, Jayfeather did not move, many wondering if he'd ever wake up. But Kestrelflight stayed there with him, refusing to leave his side. He stayed in ThunderClan during that moon, making sure Jayfeather drank water, tending to both his clan and ThunderClan, acting as the sole medicine cat to both after they lost Leafpool as well. He worked tirelessly, to points of exhaustion, but could always return to Jayfeather's side in the evenings, and rest beside him in absolute bliss. He believed Jayfeather would return to him, and sure enough... he did.

Ratscar and Oakfur were childhood friends, and eventually became mates. After his sister Snowbird had her own kits, Ratscar and Oakfur began to talk about raising a litter of their own. With the help of Oakfur's younger sister Applefur as a sire, they'd become the parents of Redkit, Olivekit, and Shrewkit.

Runningwind may the fastest cat in ThunderClan, but he was often challenged by Redtail. The tortoiseshell tom often put up quite the fight, even back when they were younger. They'd go so fast, they'd trip over each other, falling down the heavy pathway and laughing as they tried to scramble back to their paws and continue the race.

Dovewing's gift of sight allowed her to see the territories clear as day, and a useful part of that meant she could find herbs wherever they were. With Briarlight helping Jayfeather in the medicine cat den, Dovewing would use her gift to find valuable herbs and bring them back, all in excuses to chat with Briarlight more and keep her company without Jayfeather snapping at her for taking up space in the den.

Hollystar never wanted kits, for being pregnant always sounded rather uncomfortable to her. However, Cinderheart never minded the idea. She talked with Hollystar about taking a sire a few times, but Hollystar always turned it down, finding even more discomfort in the idea of her mate carrying another cat's kits. Whether it was truthful or excuses to avoid motherhood, something she firmly believed she wasn't cut out for, circumstances would change when Flamekit was left orphaned, and Cinderheart believed the little one needed someone to look to now more than ever...

Hollystar and Cinderheart loved to sneak out at night and watch the views of the lake. Their thick fur kept them warm, even in the colder seasons. Those harsh breezes pushed them closer together, their fur brushing close against the other. Every night they'd watch the stars, pointing out which ones shone the brightest to them that night.

After helping Graystripe reach the mountains to visit his son Stormfur, Flipclaw was introduced to a way of life he had never seen before, and it was all through Feather. The two toms loved to perform little shows for the kits, Flipclaw enjoying playing the part of an eagle or mountain lion while Feather was the hero that fought him off and saved everyone. They loved seeing the kits laugh and squeal when Feather barreled Flipclaw over.

Tallstar couldn't help but wonder what it would've been like if Jake had joined him in WindClan. He'd try to pick some names, like Orangefur, and Fuzzybelly - but his favorite? Well, while nothing could ever beat the sweet sound that was Jake, Fireheart didn't sound too bad...

Gorsetail's fluidity was pretty even all things considered. Her clan got pretty used to just asking in the morning what she was feeling like and she'd say. He'd then operate under that until she let them know otherwise, and it became pretty systematic. Her brother Crowfeather and her nephew Breezepelt, despite what one may think, were actually pretty good at being mindful and asking.

Lark was born the son of Stormfur and Brook, alongside her brother Pine. Stoneteller Crag received a message in the waterfall, believing it was a sign Lark would be the next Stoneteller, and the young kit was trained from a young age to one day take the mantle. In truth, Lark never felt comfortable in her body, nor her position. She was the revered prince of her home, but she longed to be someone else. In truth the sign was of her leaving the group to find her place within the clans, and she'd flee to seek out the beautiful auroras only she could see, and the song of a silver she-cat that whispered in her ear. Upon finding RiverClan, well, she took on her new identity - the she-cat, Larkpaw!

The first cat Redtail told of his feelings about his identity to was Spottedleaf. The two were apprentices, and Redpaw came to her at the time hoping for advice on how he could tell Rosetail. He didn't really have anything to worry about, but it gave him reassurance that Spottedpaw was at his side. Willowpaw admittedly felt a bit sad being left out, though she never said anything.

Tree's affinity with ae/aem pronouns came from aer kinship with air. Ae always was an introspective tom, finding beauty in little things, and a big one was the air we breathed, and then released, circulating as we all share each breath. Like a tree, ae too took in that oxygen. Everything alive used it. Those pronouns made aem feel one with nature.

#warrior cats #lgbtq+ #tree #redtail #spottedleaf #rosetail #willowpelt #larkfeather #lark that sings at dawn #stoneteller #crag where eagles nest #stormfur #brook #pine that clings to rock #flipclaw #crowfeather #gorsetail #breezepelt #tallstar #jake #feather of flying hawk #graystripe #hollyleaf #hollystar #cinderheart #nightheart #dovewing #briarlight #jayfeather #headcanon

[that-one-satanic-tree]

Feel like the most under-talked about crazy thing in Warriors is the lineage of Stormfur and Brook’s kits

These cats have blood from every Clan except ShadowClan plus the tribe, and since Graystripe’s other parent is unconfirmed at the moment, they could very well be a ShadowClan cat.

A brief description of their family tree:

Willowpelt, Graystripe’s mother has SkyClan blood. Willowbreeze, Stormfur’s grandma, has WindClan blood. Obviously, there’s Thunder, River, and Tribe in there. (also, a lot of the prefix Willow)

These are possibly the most genetically diverse cats we have.

#wc spoilers #warrior cats spoilers #sorta? just in case #warrior cats #warriors #erin hunter warriors #stormfur #brook where small fish swim #brook wc #lark that sings at dawn #lark wc #pine that clings to rock #pine wc #yes these are the kits’ names i had to look it up

[cagesings]

i love beta editor and how it remembers my tags :))

#*❈ ‣ nothing there sings not even my lark — ( v. canon ) #*❈ ‣ with all these screeching gibbering maniacs — ( v. asylum ) #*❈ ‣ we run away and then all our dreams come true? — ( v. post ) #*❈ ‣ isn’t that her shadow on the wall? — ( v. alternate ) #*❈ ‣ are you discussing or fussing; or simply dreaming? — ( v. modern ) #*❈ ‣ i feared you’d never come — ( v. tba ) #*❈ ‣ if we lay a strong enough foundation we’ll pass it on to you — ( v. single mother ) #*❈ ‣ don’t need a ring for my finger just need a steady hand to hold — ( v. main. feat. heygutlcss ) #*❈ ‣ i’m right here beside you and i’ll stay there — ( v. affair. feat. heygutlcss ) #*❈ ‣ one thing i can tell you is we got to be free — ( v. feat. honorhearted ) #*❈ ‣ the world was my oyster but where was the pearl? — ( v. feat. iocaneimmune ) #*❈ ‣ how can you jubilate sitting in cages never taking wing? — ( v. hawkins ) #if this doesn't freaking save my tags i will loose it

[twola]

Pls pls a Drabble or one shot of soft sappy sex with Arthur 🙏

Morning light drifts. Almost as if it was afloat, soft and drowsy. Warm and comforting.

Or maybe it’s just the cocoon you’ve wrapped yourself into, bare skin and blankets and an old cot within canvas walls. The quiet of dawn, where the birds awaken, chirping from the trees.

The soft, wet sound of lips meeting lips fills the tent, a thigh slung over hips, fingers tracing jawlines-

“I love you.”

His large hand cups the back of your head, fingers woven into your hair, pulling you gently to him once again. Your hand rests over his ribs, through which you can feel the steady thrum of his heart.

“Love you too-” a hushed breath, in between kisses, need rising, tongues pressing against each other until he moves. He could so easily move you, his size and strength intimidating out on the open road - but with ease and gentleness he pushes you to your back and climbs atop you, your legs opened wide to accept his hips.

Your foreheads touch, your fingers tracing up the hard muscles of his back while his forearms rest on either side of your head. You caress the nape of his neck, playing with the dark honeyed ends of his hair, growing longer by the week.

He leans heavily on one arm while he reaches down between the two of you to grasp his cock, guiding himself to press against the rim of your cunt, the head catching and you suck in a breath as the first inch of him slides inside.

“Alrigh’?” He asks, his voice still sleep-hoarse, and you answer with a nod before slotting your lips to his, tilting your hips up and he slips in another inch.

His eyes flutter closed as he bites his lower lip to keep himself quiet, pressing forward completely to bury himself in you, not stopping until his pelvis is flush to yours, until all of him is sheathed in you. You nuzzle against his jaw, his three-day-old beard scratching against your cheek. After a recentering moment, he finds your lips again, smothering a cry that escapes your throat as he rolls his hips in a full and heady stroke. Your fingernails dig into his shoulder as he does it again, and again, and again.

Sometimes, many times, there is not time for this - that your coupling is quick and fleeting. There is not time to bask in the morning light.

But today, as the larks sing as the world awakens outside of the tent, you flutter around him and he presses himself as deep as he can go, drowning in each other, breathing each other’s breaths, unfurling your love slowly, much as the world is becoming awake.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead fanfic #twolafic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic

[demontobee]

Nightingales and Romeo and Juliet in Good Omens S2E6

I’ve been thinking about the many symbolisms of the nightingale since the end of S1, but especially since the whole “That’s the point. No nightingales” conversation between Crowley and Aziraphale at the end of S2. Nightingales feature in a lot of literary texts symbolizing a whole bunch of things, but I found this particularly interesting:  

In Romeo and Juliet (you know, the play where two star-crossed lovers from rivalling families try to overcome all boundaries in the name of love), there is a scene (Act 3, Scene 5) where Romeo and Juliet have a conversation (or a little row/misunderstanding) about nightingales and larks. It is the night/morning after their secret marriage (!) and Romeo has to leave before the morning comes. Otherwise he will be in great danger as he might get caught by Juliet’s relatives. Juliet, who does not want him to leave yet, argues that the bird that they hear singing outside the window is a nightingale. Since nightingales sing by night, she hopes that this will convince Romeo that it is still night and thus make him stay a bit longer. Romeo, on the other hand, is convinced that it is a lark, a bird of dawn, that is singing, which would mean that he has to leave soon. When Romeo suddenly states that he does not care if he will be killed or not and that he wants to stay with Juliet, Juliet caves in and explains that the bird they hear is actually a lark and that Romeo has to flee.

So, a few things to point out here:

It is the night after their “secret marriage”

The nightingale is a night bird whose song indicates darkness and a world asleep, which protects forbidden love from being found out

Juliet does not want to face the harsh reality of the day approaching, which is why she tries to convince Romeo that they are hearing a nightingale while, in fact, a lark is singing, indicating danger

When her lover unexpectedly declares that he wants to stay with her, even at the risk of losing his own life, she tells the truth  in an attempt to usher him out to save his life

Okay, back to Good Omens:

It is the morning after The Dance™ (you know, the one Aziraphale organized only to be able to make a move on Crowley and dance with him; the one during which Crowley tried to open Aziraphale’s eyes to the dangerous situation they were in while Aziraphale refused to give up on his little fantasy-bubble of love and romance). Aziraphale tries to convince Crowley to go back to heaven with him. We don’t know exactly what went on in the conversation between him and the Metatron, but there was probably some threat involved, which means Aziraphale thinks that they will both be safe(r) in heaven. In a way, he is the Juliet in the situation, trying to make his Romeo stay/come with him by convincing him that the nightingale is still singing – that they can still be safe that way. Like the night before, he does not (or at least does not seem to) realize the danger they are in and will be in and that heaven will never let them be “an us”. He does not want to part with Crowley. Crowley, on the other hand, knows exactly that going to heaven is not an option for him and he understands that they are in danger. His statement, “that’s the point. No nightingales,” means that the protection of the metaphorical night, the indifference of heaven and hell concerning their situationship, is over, and that they can either flee together or have to part. Aziraphale, judging by his expression, seems to understand what Crowley is implying here. This seems to be where his parallels with Juliet end, since he does not agree with Crowley in the end. However, there is a version of events that would make his actions similar to Juliet’s in the end: Assuming that Aziraphale knows that one of the two options to keep Crowley safe(r) is out since he knows that Crowley will never agree to going back to heaven, his only other option is to ensure Crowley leaves without him (and without the impression that he needs to save Aziraphale and their relationship). He does this by driving him out if the bookshop.

In any case, the nightingale seems to symbolize the temporary safety of their forbidden love, and Crowley’s statement at the end signals the end of this precious period, and that they must part (for now).

#good omens #good omens s2 #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens meta #crowley x aziraphale #neil gaiman #go2 #good omens 2 #romeo and juliet #no nightingales #nightingales #thank you neil gaiman #shakespeare

[cambion-companion]

The Devil's Bard

Thank you again for this prompt @superfunething :) Raphael is all-too-eager to have his ego stroked.

Raphael x reader (gn) | drabble

You strummed your lute, having sequestered yourself into a private corner of the Last Light Inn. You began tentatively tuning the old instrument, an heirloom of your family. The ashen wood glistened from the flickering firelight, the warmth of the hearth seeping cozily into the wool of your clothes.

It'd been too long since you'd had time and solitude enough to compose a new song. Since you had collaborated with Alfira, in fact. The itch was there, yet your creative mind had been held captive by none other than a fiend. A cambion. Raphael.

The image of his transformation inside that "House of Hope" where he'd whisked you. His promises spoken in a decadent low voice, rough yet soft. Those eyes, both human brown and devil yellow, staring right through all your outward bluster and bravado.

Wood creaked as you shifted your weight in the mahogany armchair, a discordant noise rose up while you strummed your lute in mild frustration.

Anything else. You would rather create your art around anything else. Flowers, the night sky, the Underdark even. Yet the only thoughts pervading your restless inspiration were those of cherry skin, musky fragrance and a sharp knowing smile.

You whispered the words at first, haltingly and quiet, not wanting to draw attention.

"False hope arrived on hidden wing.

To manor cold and haunted bring,

the weary, wandering and spent.

Those carrying a writhing tenant."

You sighed heavily. Now to create music for your lyrics. You began slow, building the base chords and singing the first verse more confidently after a few rounds. For a moment the world and your troubles melted into the background, your focus a blissfully familiar spotlight upon your work.

You felt sudden pressure as a firm hand gripped your shoulder.

"Hello, my lark." Raphael spoke from behind where you sat, the weight of his gaze upon your head. "As irresistible as the harpy's song, so I too had to investigate what music you were weaving."

He moved around you. Careful measured steps, till he looked down upon you and you up at him. His warm brown eyes caught the glow of firelight as he measured your blushing cheeks and the way you gripped your instrument.

Raphael tilted his head, in an amused air. "Those lyrics rang so familiar." He smiled, that knowing smile you remembered so well. "Almost as though I am the muse behind your making, but that would be presumptuous."

You grimaced. "Speak of the devil."

"Ah, so your little song is about me." Raphael seemed genuinely tickled by this and he chuckled and clapped his hands together once. He took the seat opposite you and slung one of his legs over his other thigh. "Do, please, go on! I so enjoy the extolling arts, especially when revolving around myself."

"What are you doing here, Raphael?" You raised a brow and glanced over your shoulder just in time to see little Mol look away.

"Business, as usual." Raphael leaned forward slightly, his own gaze never deviating from your firelit face. "The richest bounties can be found in the most desperate little havens. But you've learned that already." He smiled, a little sharply. "My most illustrious client. You've sent many souls skittering directly to my door."

"Maybe I should compose a song of warning to stay away from strange men wearing frilly collars." You bit out, your eyes narrowing as you tried again to see where Mol had disappeared to.

"That's the spirit!" Raphael chortled again and gestured graciously to your lute. "Spirit you have in such brilliant abundance, little lark. I find you ever more delightfully ebullient."

"A compliment, were it not for your nature." You said, a little terse of tongue now, growing uncomfortable with how attracted to this fiend you were becoming.

"Does it keep you up at night?" Raphael frowned, a hint of mockery in his cadence. "Tossing and turning upon that cold, hard ground. Desperate to dwell upon anything but the devil in your corner. Oh, come now." His hand found your knee and pressed you back down as you shifted to stand up. "Indulge me! We are friends. After all, what else are little birds for? Sing me your sweet song while I devise for you a safe, gilded cage."

#raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael drabble #bg3 drabble #raphael x reader #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael fanfic #raphael bg3 fic #baldurs gate 3 x reader #raphael x you

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil! We were talking about Puck of Pook's Hill in one of my seminars, and we were wondering if your Puck in The Sandman was inspired by that book?

Yes and no. Puck of Pook's Hill is hugely influential on me and the way I think about the land and Sussex, and I'm sure it was an influence on Sandman #19.

But my wild Puck is closer to the Robin Goodfellow of the ballad:

From Oberon, in fairy land, The king of ghosts and shadows there, Mad Robin I, at his command, Am sent to view the night-sports here. What revel rout Is kept about, In every corner where I go, I will o'ersee, And merry be, And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho

More swift than lightning can I fly About this airy welkin soon, And, in a minute's space, descry Each thing that's done below the moon. There's not a hag Or ghost shall wag, Or cry, 'ware goblins! where I go; But Robin I Their feats will spy, And send them home with ho, ho, ho!

Whene'er such wanderers I meet, As from their night-sports they trudge home, With counterfeiting voice I greet, And call them on with me to roam: Through woods, through lakes; Through bogs, through brakes; Or else, unseen, with them I go, All in the nick, To play some trick, And frolic it, with ho, ho, ho!

Sometimes I meet them like a man, Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound; And to a horse I turn me can, To trip and trot about them round. But if to ride My back they stride, More swift than wind away I go, O'er hedge and lands, Through pools and ponds, I hurry, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

When lads and lasses merry be, With possets and with junkets fine; Unseen of all the company, I eat their cakes and sip their wine! And, to make sport, I puff and snort: And out the candles I do blow: The maids I kiss, They shriek—Who's this? I answer nought but ho, ho, ho!

Yet now and then, the maids to please, At midnight I card up their wool; And, while they sleep and take their ease, With wheel to threads their flax I pull. I grind at mill Their malt up still; I dress their hemp; I spin their tow; If any wake, And would me take, I wend me, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

When any need to borrow aught, We lend them what they do require: And, for the use demand we nought; Our own is all we do desire. If to repay They do delay, Abroad amongst them then I go, And night by night, I them affright, With pinchings, dreams, and ho, ho, ho!

When lazy queans have nought to do, But study how to cog and lie: To make debate and mischief too, 'Twixt one another secretly: I mark their gloze, And it disclose To them whom they have wronged so: When I have done, I get me gone, And leave them scolding, ho, ho, ho!

When men do traps and engines set In loop-holes, where the vermin creep, Who from their folds and houses get Their ducks and geese, and lambs and sheep; I spy the gin, And enter in, And seem a vermin taken so; But when they there Approach me near, I leap out laughing, ho, ho, ho!

By wells and rills, in meadows green, We nightly dance our heyday guise; And to our fairy king and queen, We chant our moonlight minstrelsies. When larks 'gin sing, Away we fling; And babes new born steal as we go; And elf in bed We leave in stead, And wend us laughing, ho, ho, ho!

From hag-bred Merlin's time, have I Thus nightly revelled to and fro; And for my pranks men call me by The name of Robin Good-fellow. Fiends, ghosts, and sprites, Who haunt the nights, The hags and goblins do me know; And beldames old My feats have told, So vale, vale; ho, ho, ho!

[jymwahuwu]

Imagine reader's child with yan!tighnari turning out like their dad

Like imagine reader hinting to their children that they weren't happy with the marriage by telling stories but their children snitched on them and told yan!tighnari Abt it bc they saw it as their mother trying to leave them

IT WOULD BE SO FUN TO SEE DJJEJS

tw: yandere, non-con, implied kidnapping, spanking, orgasm control, breeding, knotting

yandere Tighnari breeding reader that rejects them part 1

part 2

this is amazing... who doesn't like being punished by Tighnari - with the fox babies it's much harder for you to leave🤭💕

With Tighnari and the fox cubs, life in the forest is peaceful. Fox cubs love to snuggle up to you, mutter "mama" in soft voices, bury their heads in your arms, and the fur on their ears always tickles your chest - and your heart too. You brush and clean the tails of the Tighnari and the babies and apply plant-based waterproofing oil. You like to pet their tails and ears. Every time you do this, the fox cubs involuntarily purr but then deny this.

Tighnari has produced some learning materials for children and you are responsible for teaching them to read, one of the ways is to tell bedtime stories.

"What did you dream about last night?"

"In the past, people in this country could not dream, but now when the God of Wisdom enters the dream, all of us weave dreams…"

One of the cubs said they dreamed of inexhaustible padisarah pudding on the table, you smile. Unfortunately, you find out that all the storybooks have been read. They have inherited the wisdom of their father - they never forget a story they have heard once. You must have new stories to lull them to sleep…

You have an idea, speaking with metaphor.

"In the kingdom of forests and deserts, there lived a bird.

They have wonderful singing voices, and their goal is to become the lead singer among the thousands of birds, offering songs to the sky and stars. However, this is too difficult. They lived with songs, and in the woods there were larks, nightingales, canaries… some of them were mean, but some were kind, and their songs were said to be the best.

They thought they were one of them.

But one day, they found out that they were just ordinary finch, bouncing around the ground, sharing food, singing with other companions - that's their usual life.

They still don't give up, dreaming that they too can achieve their goals.

At this time a fox told them: Do you want to live with me? The life of a bird is too ordinary. Life is more than singing.

They refused.

What they don't know is that the fox has a big cage ready for them. At night, the fox sneaked into the forest quietly. He found them resting on the tree, and the cage covered their bodies. Their singing has since disappeared into the woods.

Living in a fox cabin, they don't need to compete with other birds, there is enough food, gifts and beds, but they kind of miss the sky and the smell of rain. That's what they lost.

One day, they escaped from the fox's house and took to the sky while the fox was not looking. They flapped their wings and sang in the sky, attracting the attention of other birds - they were surprised to find that one of them had such a melodious song.

However, they no longer care about other people's evaluation - they left the forest where they lived, flew over towns, mountains, and fields, leaving sweet songs everywhere for everyone. "

After hearing this story, the fox cubs pouted, a little sullen. "mama, why is the fox in this story a bad guy?"

"That's just a coincidence. The little lion was the villain last time." You smiled and kissed their little foreheads. "Good night, my babies."

The next day, Tighnari returned to the forest from the seminar, and the fox cubs jumped into his arms, yelling "papa!". He hugged them and gave them presents - some new toys. Under study, they are already smarter than many children of the same age at this time.

"Papa, are foxes bad?? Does mama want to leave us?" one of the cubs asked. The cubs recount last night's story to Tighnari - though they don't quite understand parts of the story, they have a vague sense that you want to leave the forest.

"Oh, there's such a thing." Tighnari raised his eyebrows, and there was unknowingly meanness in his tone, but then disappeared, comforting the babies gently. "It's okay, mama is just telling you stories, and won't leave us."

For you it's another attitude - he's away for two days and you're signaling to the kids that you want to leave? Does this mean you already have a plan? unacceptable. Entering the house, Tighnari greets you and casually asks what story you told the babies last night. He notices you avoiding his gaze - "You really don't have anything to confess to me?"

"Wait, my- my story doesn't mean that!" You panicked in denial.

Tighnari does not accept excuses of any kind - punishment is a necessary part of your education since you are so stubborn, chasing your unrealistic dreams.

He orders you to bend over, slips a vibrator into your wet inner wall, and rubs his thumb along the edge of your glistening flesh. The little machinery buzzes and vibrates deep within you. You whimper and beg him to stop. "Please- please- Tighnari I'm sorry- I won't do this again…" You try to keep your balance in the shock, but the ruler appears and smacks your ass hard. The slapping lands on both of your ass cheeks, and it's never in the same rhythm - when you think your left ass is about to get spanked, Tighnari smacks three times on your right.

Tighnari rubs between your legs after a round until orgasm is imminent, then starts a new round, leaving you in deep despair. You can't remember exactly how many times you took it, basically a mess of tears, legs shaking and a stooped posture. "I- I'm so sorry…!!" he asks you in a mean, veiled, sinister voice. "Do you still want to leave? Is there anything more comfortable than getting my cock? Hmm?"

"No- no! I just need you - Tighnari-" you gasp, unable to choose your words. You just desperately want to be released, to be filled.

"Okay," he muttered, sinking his already swollen long cock deep inside you, pounding you hard, rubbing his fingers on your clit. You scream, tears and juice splattering the table, pleasure flowing through your body, your walls contracting.

"Maybe I should give you some other babies." Tighnari announced as knotted inside you. "You won't have time to leave."

#alani.answers #yandere genshin impact #yandere tighnari #yandere tighnari x reader #genshin tighnari x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader

[the-iceni-bitch]

𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖎𝖑𝖐𝖞 𝕭𝖊𝖉 𝖂𝖊 𝕾𝖎𝖌𝖍

𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝟺 - 𝙽𝚢𝚖𝚙𝚑 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝙼𝚊𝚡𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚏𝚏

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚙𝚑 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜.

𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚢 ~ 𝙰 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚗'𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚜.

𝙰𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚊 ~ 𝙰 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜

Words: ~1.6k

Relationship: nymph!Wanda Maximoff x goddess of spring!reader

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (chase kink, food in a sexy scenario, analingus, body worship), sex outdoors, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all my latest fics, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

The clouds parted and the sun rose warm in the sky as your eyes at last fluttered open after your long slumber. It was finally time, your season, the awakening of the earth and the beginning of new growth. You slowly rose to your feet and breathed deep of the fresh spring air, looking out at the frozen land that was waiting to be rejuvenated by your touch.

As you began your trek down from your mountain you smiled warmly, hyacinths and irises and peonies blooming each place your feet met the earth while new green life spread across the land in front of you. Frost and ice broke away from the ponds and rivers when the sun’s rays reached them. Birds and animals chirped and sang, filling the air with the sweet sounds of rebirth as they rose from their winter hibernation and came to greet you. A lark fluttered around you with a symphony of twitters before landing on your outstretched hand, preening its feathers as it whistled before taking flight again.

By the time you reached the foot of your mountain the land was lush and green, the air filled with the verdant fragrances of spring that made you feel so alive and powerful. You took one more deep breath and spread your arms wide, beaming when the entirety of the land sprang to life at once and basking in the sunlight.

That was when you heard it. That lovely laugh that lilted like a song through the air. The murmuring splashes and soft singing of woodland nymphs as they bathed. It was her. Your love. The only thing aside from the growth of spring that you longed for during your time of sleep. As you came upon the still pool where the maidens bathed you felt your breath catch, the sunlight glittering on the surface of the water and on the flawless skin of your beloved when she rose from the depths with a beautiful sigh.

“Wanda!” You let out a delighted laugh when she turned to face you and blushed, her ginger hair flowing around her bare shoulders and her blue eyes sparkling with playful desire. “I see your thoughts, my love. If you run, I will catch you and drink my fill of your sweet pleasure.”

“My goddess…” she stretched her lithe, naked body and giggled when you let out a low sound of want, taking a few steps away from you towards the opposite end of the pond. “If I did not run, you would not love me as you do.”

That was the only warning you had before she took off at a sprint. You chuckled to yourself before beginning to pursue her, your steps fleet across the green earth and making trees and flowers spring up in your wake. Her laughter made your grin grow even wider. She was right, you did enjoy chasing her down before you lost yourself in the heady pleasures of her soft flesh.

Rivers and hills passed the both of you by as you chased her, the land sloping towards the sea as you moved further and further from your mountain. Her laughter was like music that rang through the valleys and forests, birds and animals joining her song as they rose from their winter sleep. Deer and foxes ran with your beloved, their cheerful yips and cries echoing her joy and only making your desire for her grow deeper. She was the embodiment of life and happiness, of everything that belonged to your season. And though she ran and played the shy coquette, she was yours.

Wanda’s voice was teasing and bright as she called your name over her shoulder, the sway of her hips enticing you to run after her even faster as she bent to pluck a sweet smelling hyacinth and breathe in its scent. She leapt over a brook and squealed when she felt the tips of your fingers graze against her heel, changing direction quickly so you could not catch her. You could smell her. Above even the scent of the new flowers you could smell the warm and fertile wetness between her thighs that called to you.

Though Wanda was quick, she was not as quick as you. But then, she did not truly wish to be. She squealed with glee when your hand wrapped around her knee and pulled her to the ground, her eyes bright when she beamed at you over her shoulder when you pounced on top of her. The rest of her playful noises were muffled by your lips as you bent to give her the most luscious of kisses, the sweetness of her plump lips making you moan into her mouth as you pressed her into the warm earth.

Wanda laughed lightly when you turned her onto her back and nibbled on the tip of her nose, her fingers teasing along the curve of your waist. Out of thin air a honeycomb appeared in your outstretched hand, the two of you sharing a pair of warm smiles before you pressed the comb to her lips and let her taste the sweetness of spring. Her eyes fluttered as you smeared the precious golden syrup all over her full lips and let it slither over her tongue and down her throat. Your lips were quick to chase the drops that escaped from the corners of her mouth, your tongue flicking out to trace the viscous trails left along her soft, pale skin.

You dragged the comb down her chin and then the slender column of her neck. You wanted her nubile body covered in honey, to taste the luscious flavor of her sweat mixed with the sweet syrup. When your tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat to lap up the golden nectar she sighed, making you grin when the soft sound of her pleasure made a smattering of asters bloom around her.

“My dear, sweet love,” your lips met Wanda’s skin between each word. “My beloved nymph,” the honey dribbled over the gentle swells of her breasts, followed closely by your eager tongue. “How I miss you when I slumber.”

“My goddess, oh!” Her sudden gasp when your lips brushed against her stiffened nipple made Olympus yarrow join the aster that was springing up in an ever growing ring around the two of you. “I have missed you too, so much…”

“I know.” The fragrance of the flowers and the warmth of the sun bathed the two of you in a haze of passion, Wanda’s breaths turning shallow and quick as your mouth left a wake of fire along her tapered waist. “Sing your song for me, my nymph.”

Wanda groaned when you turned her so she was laying on her stomach, biting her lip when you pressed the honeycomb to the firm skin of her back until she could feel the thick, sticky sweetness creeping down the curve of her spine. Your mouth ardently pursued the path of honey as your beloved whimpered and moaned, your teeth sneaking past the cushions of your lips to nip at the small of her back. The comb kept traveling lower and so did your mouth, worshiping her perfect, alabastrine skin as she spread her legs for you and arched her back. When Wanda felt your fingers opening her up and the warm honey dribbling over the dusky folds of her anus she gasped, her voice rising in timbre as your tongue fluttered and lapped at her sensitive flesh.

Her voice was musical and dulcet as you continued to lavish her body with passionate attention, your fingers and tongue leaving her sex covered in the syrupy evidence of your love for her. The pitch of her voice let you know that her mind was fully consumed by the pleasure you were giving her, her existence narrowed to only you and the pleasure you gave her as more spring growth bloomed around the two of you. Your tongue pushed past her tight ring of muscle at the same time your fingers slipped inside her pretty pussy and when she cried out softly you grinned against her.

Already you could tell your love was close, her staccato breaths and the way her toes and fingers curled letting you know just how lost in her pleasure she was truly. Every breath and sound she made was pure and primal, out of her control as she offered herself to you as a loving sacrifice for the new birth of spring. There was nothing on the earth for her except you and your touch, the unending ecstasy only you were able to give her. Your tongue and lips kept moving reverently against the most secret part of her as her body wound tighter and tighter, her slick inner walls clenching around your fingers while your thumb gently circled her swollen clitoris until she truly was singing for you.

Wanda screamed your name as she fell apart at your touch. It was more lovely than the singing of the birds or the falling rain, everything about your beloved was the epitome of beauty. You drank up her bliss gluttonously, catching every drop on your tongue before draping your body over hers so your head was resting on her shoulder. A glade had grown around the two of you as you pleasured your nymph, poppies and anemones surrounding a sparkling pond as the shade of a fig tree kept you cool. She rolled over and let her eyes flutter as you ran your fingers through her silky hair, her own fingers trailing along your side until she was tickling your hip.

“My goddess,” Wanda purred and bit her lip as she gazed at you with adoration. “It is your season, my beloved. Let me worship at your altar so you can give the earth new life.”

#natalie writes #monstrous mayhem #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #wanda maximoff #nymph!wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut #female reader #goddess!reader #marvel #marvel au #eighteen plus

[ymaohoh]

(don't tell me that Eddie wasn't thinking about this very scene when he met Chrissy alone in the woods)

The leaves were long, the grass was green, The hemlock-umbels tall and fair, And in the glade a light was seen Of stars in shadow shimmering. Tinúviel was dancing there To music of a pipe unseen, And light of stars was in her hair, And in her raiment glimmering. There Beren came from mountains cold, And lost he wandered under leaves, And where the Elven-river rolled He walked alone and sorrowing. He peered between the hemlock-leaves And saw in wonder flowers of gold Upon her mantle and her sleeves, And her hair like shadow following. Enchantment healed his weary feet That over hills were doomed to roam; And forth he hastened, strong and fleet, And grasped at moonbeams glistening. Through woven woods in Elvenhome She lightly fled on dancing feet, And left him lonely still to roam In the silent forest listening. He heard there oft the flying sound Of feet as light as linden-leaves, Or music welling underground, In hidden hollows quavering. Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves, And one by one with sighing sound Whispering fell the beechen leaves In the wintry woodland wavering. He sought her ever, wandering far Where leaves of years were thickly strewn, By light of moon and ray of star In frosty heavens shivering. Her mantle glinted in the moon, As on a hilltop high and far She danced, and at her feet was strewn A mist of silver quivering. When winter passed, she came again, And her song released the sudden spring, Like rising lark, and falling rain, And melting water bubbling. He saw the elven-flowers spring About her feet, and healed again He longed by her to dance and sing Upon the grass untroubling. Again she fled, but swift he came. Tinúviel! Tinúviel! He called her by her elvish name, And there she halted listening. One moment stood she, and a spell His voice laid on her: Beren came, And doom fell on Tinúviel That in his arms lay glistening. As Beren looked into her eyes Within the shadows of her hair, The trembling starlight of the skies He saw there mirrored shimmering. Tinúviel the elven-fair, Immortal maiden elven-wise, About him cast her shadowy hair And arms like silver glimmering. Long was the way that fate them bore, O'er stony mountains cold and grey, Through halls of iron and darkling door, And woods of nightshade morrowless. The Sundering Seas between them lay, And yet at last they met once more, And long ago they passed away In the forest singing sorrowless. - 'Song of Beren and Lúthien' from The Fellowship of the Ring. J.R.R. Tolkien

#eddie literally quotes from lotr right? #he saw chrissy in the woods surrounded by golden leaves #let them dance together #hellcheer #eddissy #edssy #chrissy x eddie #eddie munson #eddie x chrissy #hellcheer fanfic #hellcheer headcanons #eddissy headcannons #eddissy fanfiction #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham #hellcheer au #eddsy #edissy

[thesherrinfordfacility]

i did not break my own heart last night thinking about the missing 1941 scene and have it sat in my brain all of today spinning around like a fucking microwave in order to not make you lot suffer with me. and i somehow feel i may be right about this so buckle up and lets break it down.

so yes, following on from this post, i think that there is going to be a third 1941 scene. twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern. it's been literally set up like that by even bringing back 1941 into s2 in the first place. but we're missing a crucial detail because it does not - at all, really - explain how they went from evading danger from hell and having a cosy candlelit bottle of red to celebrate, to the bastard 1967 scene. we all know this, this is nothing new.

the symbolism of nightingales is probably going to cast a shadow on this. these two excellent analyses look at the meaning of nightingales in the context of R&J, and the relation that the song has to this point in time, respectively. in summary; it's a song that should be around in 1941 courtesy of vera lynn and others, and the nightingale itself carries the meaning of love being hidden and forbidden by way of it singing under the cover of darkness, before being replaced with reality and soberness - represented by the lark. the Dinner of '41 scene is set in the bookshop at night; this would parallel - that they are safe and concealed, and truths can be shared, but the writing is on the wall that stepping outside would be to shatter the illusion, so to speak. it might be that the song itself gets miracled up onto the record player, or a wireless lying about - whatever. note: i don't think they'll dance though, not given crowley in ep5, "you don't dance"... but then again, if there ISNT a kiss in s3-1941, an aborted dance seems like the next best option... the cowardly one, but i'll take it

this would also track with aziraphale having his epiphany after the church in s1-1941; specifically, in my eyes, that he doesn't necessarily just realise he loves crowley, but that crowley by way of saving his books loves him too. this is only supported by the whole of the s2-1941 scene of trusting in each other as the only way to pull off the trick, the subterfuge. this is then, again, also important in the context of what i think happens in s3-1941.

i do think aziraphale is going to bring the books up again, and what crowley did, because it needs to be addressed. the Nazis/furfur confrontation has scared him, regardless of whether he saved them both, more than he realised. its put things into startling perspective. i think he's going to bring up the books, and actually question crowley a little more as to why he did it. the repeated use of, and subsequent weird reaction crowley has to, the use of the term "friend" in s2-1941 would indicate that this is going to be a focal point in s3-1941. are they just friends? is crowley disappointed that aziraphale is still referring to him as that, after what he did? 'saving' aziraphale in the church, and then saving his books? or is aziraphale just saying 'friends' so hesitantly in both instances because he's not completely sure where crowley stands?

we as the audience know the answer to this, but they obviously do not. if one of the crucial themes of s3 is going to be resolving miscommunication, it makes sense for this scene to be the first, and last, time they communicate properly... at least, until they sort out the issues that culminated in the Final Fifteen.

so let's say they start getting into a very roundabout way of discussing what they mean to each other. there will need to be the sobering, ice-water-over-the-head realisation however, as s2-1941 demonstrated, that they cannot belong to each other, because they manifestly belong to heaven and hell respectively. crowley is still being spied on, and it firmly places aziraphale in their line of sight too. it's going to bring up the holy water discussion; why crowley asked for it - to protect himself, whether by taking out demons or taking out himself, as long as it means he - and most importantly, aziraphale - does not get hurt.

they actively confess that they want to be together, in a way that is more than they are now. aziraphale wants to, but says that they can't, because it's too dangerous. crowley suggests that no one ever has to know, they can hide it (there, in the bookshop, whilst the nightingale is singing), and even if they are found out, they can run. "hell won't just be angry; they'll destroy you..." // "no one ever has to know".

aziraphale doesn't want to have to hide it, doesn't want a halfway measure- is still thinking in black and white. crowley however thinks that something is better than nothing - thinking in the grey. but ultimately, as long as they are still shackled, they cannot do what they want, and it puts the other in danger. "surely the great thing about being a demon is that you can do whatever you want" // "you sound jealous, angel...". instead, aziraphale promises that the day that they are no longer tied to heaven or hell, they can be together; crowley scoffs, thinking that that will never happen, so they will never happen, "you're so clever! how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?!"

the reason they can't right now is because they could be caught. they would have to skulk around, be ashamed, feel guilty - and aziraphale is tired of feeling like that. because only having crowley in secret would hurt more. not being able hold his hand, or dance with him, or kiss him, unless it was in the bookshop. if hell were to find out, crowley would be killed, true, but if heaven were to find out, aziraphale could be cast out. and if crowley survived hell long enough to see aziraphale fall - he'd never forgive himself, and in a way, i don't think he'd ever forgive aziraphale either.

it's tearing them to pieces, but they have to stop whatever is happening between them in its tracks. it's acknowledged, but it's not named. this gives them plausible deniability; if they called it 'love', it would be undeniable. so, aziraphale asks for crowley to go; asks him to leave before they do something they can't come back from. crowley doesn't listen - crowds him, gets in close, and aziraphale is powerless to stop it. doesn't want to stop it. he's selfish by nature, a selfless kind of selfishness, but he wants this with all his being. and then - "this is too fast, crowley, please don't..." // "im sorry, angel. please... please, forgive me". aziraphale never gets to answer, to grant him that, because boom - the actual first kiss.

so. now that i've had to make you read that, i'm going in for the kill. let's look at everything that follows - and look at how the above might recontextualise it.

1967: the offer of the picnic, the Ritz? ie. the literal lyrics of berkeley square? aziraphale has caved in the interest of giving crowley a weapon to use if all else fails, to protect him, but that's as far as he's willing to progress. everything else is still too painful; he's on the brink of tears, promising that one day they'll be able to do what they want, to be open about how they feel, but not yet. they can't. crowley tries to push, "ill give you a lift, anywhere you want to go..." (him offering again to run away? a second chance to leg it?), and aziraphale reminding him that they can't, he can't... don't make him go too fast again, it's not fair. it also sets up perfectly that aziraphale and crowley don't speak for the next 40 or so years (as far as we're aware) until armageddon is threatened.

bandstand: mostly this is still centred around the apocalypse contextually, but i think with the above hypothetical scene in mind (the offer to hide, to run away, to be together), aziraphale is sent back to remembering their mutual confession that they've nonverbally agreed not to bring up, because it's not safe, and it's too painful. they've skirted around it, and returned instead to a tentative kind of friendship at the beginning of s1, but they're still not safe to address why seeing each other again, being so close to each other and not being able to touch is so painful. anyway - aziraphale refuses their side, but the above scene would re-view this as 'our side can't exist yet, you know this! you know why it can't!', and crowley leaves, again after pushing a bit more than aziraphale can stand.

alpha centauri: basically a facsimile of the above; same steps, same dance. but this time, crowley harks back to aziraphale's foolish (?) hope that they will be together, without having to run away, when the day comes that they don't have to answer to heaven or hell. and aziraphale smacks him right back, echoing crowley asking for aziraphale's forgiveness in kissing him, "i forgive you." crowley knows exactly what aziraphale is getting at, there - he's answering crowley's whispered plea to forgive him for pushing, for trying to force him, for acting in desperation. but he's also not answering that - he's skirting around that very thing, forgiving him like a knife would, slicing back at crowley for not only insulting aziraphale on something that is likely a genuine insecurity of his, but also putting him back in his place, for their safeties, because them being together just cannot happen. not yet.

and "please forgive me" in 1941 might seem out of character, but idk if it is; crowley knows that doing what he's about to do will hurt aziraphale, aziraphale has (hypothetically) told him as much, but he needs to do it - and seeks not benevolence or forgiveness as crowley-the-demon, but actually seems aziraphale's forgiveness, as crowley-the-person. the echo would certainly match the tone given here, in multiple ways:

the ritz: i mean, what is there to say? yes, their song is literally playing on the piano, and heralds the shift in their being out from heaven and hell, the day has finally come where they can - again, going by this entirely hypothetical scene that ive concocted - actually be together as they want to. and the nightingale literally singing outside, but as @shoemakerobstetrician beautifully pointed out, god remarks that it's covered up by traffic. so actually, if we again refer back to R&J interpretation of the nightingale, the love is still hidden, still somewhat under wraps, but can only just about be heard over the noise of the streets outside. the prohibition of them being together, of loving each other, is dwindling. and one day, it'll stop singing altogether. that day is coming, it will come, and then they can do what they please. so whilst the ritz scene may well be a mark of them starting the next chapter, it's slow to take hold, there's still hesitancy - which absolutely makes sense when we see that they are still very tentative with each other come the beginning of s2.

s2 general: aziraphale realises their freedom first; he gets excited by the dance, and being able to show his love to crowley, completely and without barriers, in the form of the ball - what he has read to be the best way to do so. he touches crowley more. he shares his bookshop with him, gifts it to crowley as being his as well as aziraphale's, this safe space that is so wholly theirs that crowley has the power to grant entry. the same with the bentley - aziraphale sees it as theirs, and crowley silently agrees, granting aziraphale the same power. crowley is comfortable in the bookshop to remove his glasses, has a place for them. the bookshop becomes tidier, more minimalist, to make crowley more comfortable in it (it is more cluttered in s1, im certain of it). it might just be the grading between s1 and s2, and lack of clutter, but the yellow is more prominent - his literal favourite colour. everything just screams that aziraphale is ready to make good on his promise from s3-1941.

crowley... for once, is the one not quite catching up. not realising the little dates here and there are literally poses them as a couple (although yes, the coffee shop one is to prep crowley for the goob jumpscare), that aziraphale has granted him the power to grant entry. aziraphale literally asking, practically begging, crowley to help him hide goob. the mf colour of the walls. the colour of the bentley. it's not until nina outright asks him if they are together that he realises how careless they've been - but wait, is it careless if they have nothing to be careful of? well, arguably crowley does, hell are still hanging around him like a bad smell... but this is what he wanted! this is what he was pushing aziraphale for! so, does he risk it? he's not sure, but he's certainly realising that aziraphale is ready, if nothing else. and by the time the ladies stage their little intervention, crowley finally realises that the confession he started in 1941 now can be fully aired, can come out into the open.

the Feral Domestic: *fingers at temples* i know i have been fairly vocal about my interpretation of this scene, and frankly - until we get this hypothetical s3-1941 scene, i stand by it - but let's say this speculation about the scene is true, and re-examine the key points in the Final Fifteen that would completely turn on their heads in terms of meaning:

literally, harking back full circle to what aziraphale promised in 1967 as what they would do when they could fully acknowledge their love, and what they did as soon as - on paper - they were free at the end of s1. this is however before he's spoken to by nina and maggie, so maybe this is what crowley was planning in terms of confessing fully to aziraphale, but after their meddling he realised that yes, they need to actually talk about it again. he doesn't understand why they're telling him what they are - because he's existed so long in gestures and gifts and not talking, literally dismissed it now as a viable option, that it doesn't even occur to him to try talking again.

which is why he does something brave, and tries to tell aziraphale instead (say it out loud, make it undeniable, put a name to it, "i love you", something that i think was crowley's actual intention before aziraphale interrupts him) when he comes back to the shop... he's so nervous, because it's vulnerable, and because the last time he did, they ended up hiding for 50-ish years.

next up:

now, im reluctant to think that aziraphale lied in the Feral Domestic, because i do think the key thing at work is his paramount need to do the Right Thing (ie. make a difference in heaven). whilst metatron obviously manipulates him, im not entirely convinced that aziraphale wholly sees through it. i don't think he knew that metatron was up to something, i think the shaking off of this naivety is going to be part of his s3 character development. but this sentence - again, especially in context of the hypothetical s3-1941 scene - must on some level frighten him. especially if you take this meta into account, aziraphale must realise at least that they were never safe, even when they were denying what they were and how they felt, it didn't make a bit of difference. now, metatron could have just been talking about the arrangement, not referring to any romantic elements of any kind, but the threat of it? no wonder he pushes for crowley to join him in heaven; he could keep crowley safe there. they could be together, and heaven - in his eyes - would be able to say a word against it.

then:

the fear sets in; crowley was too late in telling him, acknowledging that they could be together, realising what aziraphale was saying to him without words, and now heaven has come for him. plonked them right back where they were in s2-1941, but perversely mirrored; instead of hell coming for crowley with violence, heaven came for aziraphale with kindness. crowley doesn't have a magic trick he can just do on the fly, perform it perfectly when the need for it is greatest, and has to cling to the hope that aziraphale still sees them as the barrier to them, the reason they can't be together. and in true miscommunication fashion, i think aziraphale does see it, but what metatron said lingers, and in addition to being inside the institution, changing it from the inside out, in order to make a difference... he knows that whilst it's exactly the opposite of what they wanted, he needs to make them safe. better to be inside the tent pissing out, than outside the tent pissing in.

but aziraphale doesn't tell crowley what metatron said, because instead he either deliberately tries to deny the implications of it (cognitive dissonance king behaviour), or he doesn't want to panic crowley and is trying to convey to crowley that he can't speak his concerns, not when the metatron could still be watching, and instead just needs crowley to trust him, take his hand, and join him in heaven where they can be safe. doesn't tell crowley that heaven hasn't captured him in shackles again, but he's willingly held out his wrists because it's the safest thing for him, and them, to do.

so it's one thing to look at what crowley's saying, but aziraphale's reaction? before, i just found it to be out of confusion, him not really understanding what crowley was saying, but tbh i never paid much attention to it (david stole this bit of the scene - not to put down my beloved michael here, but he did). and i know others have remarked here that aziraphale is flitting his eyes to the window and looks scared and stressed, but i don't completely think that its because he's scared that metatron is watching (although, now, i will accept with the rug thing and hypothetical s3-1941 in context it is definitely playing a part), but also because he's just starting to recognise that this is a repeat of the s3-1941 scene, "this sounds familiar, we've been here before... oh, we've definitely been here before... oh shit. i still can't do this, not unless he comes with me. we still can't be together, not in the way crowley wants. the way he's trying again, now, to ask for."

but the issue is: crowley wants to run away together. again. and i totally get why, but once again, going back to 1941: it's exactly the solution that will not work. they cannot run from this. heaven, and hell, will find them. they will come for them. it wasn't an option in 1941, it wasn't an option in 2019, and it isn't an option in 2023. aziraphale begins shaking his head - crowley is confessing, but a) aziraphale doesn't run from things, it isnt in his character, and b) it's just putting them back where they started - something that they have to hide. it defeats the purpose.

and this? yeah, im sure on neither side it was meant the way im about to interpret it, more of an unspoken thing, idk... but if the bookshop is indeed their place of safety, and is where they (as far as crowley sees it) can speak and keep their love, it makes sense that crowley is telling aziraphale he needs to stay. the bookshop can be interpreted so many ways - it represents their relationship, or that crowley means him, himself - but what if we looked at it like crowley is trying now to covet it, because it's protecting them? what if he's saying, "well, if you won't run away with me, we can't be free to have our relationship as we wanted it, not unless we stay here... heaven has come for you, has come for us, and whilst they're here we can't move. so what other option is left remain in this bookshop? to never leave it, and what we have inside it, because there's no other option in which we can be together if you won't run with me."

and what if aziraphale is saying, "no, i have an option, and that's to be together in heaven! they won't be able to do anything, not when im in the position the metatron has offered me, that can be our new bookshop... nothing lasts forever - this bookshop won't last forever, it's compromised, and we can't continue to secret away what we feel inside it, it's time to move forward."

welcome to the line that breaks my heart the most in this whole goddamn scene - and tbh i think is fairly self-explanatory in the hypothetical s3-1941 context. that aziraphale is trying, once again, to tell crowley that he is offering himself, letting them be an 'us', as crowley says shortly after - that before he couldnt do it, and these arent the best of circumstances, but they can finally do it and not have to hide in the bookshop. but crowley reminds him, "hey, i was in your shoes, remember. i wanted us to be together then, and you told me you couldn't, didn't want a halfway measure - well, now i don't either. and this will be a halfway measure, because i don't think us being together in heaven is going to go the way you hope it will. i understand a whole lot better than you do." in any case, it would explain why aziraphale choses this moment to look so devastated. this is what he promised crowley, but now crowley - to his mind, in the things left Unsaid - doesn't want it... him.

and then... back to the nightingales. they're not singing at all, not even under the rumble of traffic, like they were at the Ritz. they're completely absent - day has broken, the things unspoken have now been said, and there's no denying them anymore. from crowley's point of view, there was nothing to stop them this time, but if aziraphale won't run with him, then they have to go separate ways, because there is no other way. aziraphale knows there's the possibility that the only place they could actually be safe is heaven itself, that the bookshop was never as safe as they hoped it had been, but that crowley might actually come to see that. but the fact that crowley is resigned to just... returning to 'reality', to a world that's still turning where they aren't together? despite everything they've just said? "we could've been... us." well, that hurts.

and then... the kiss. now. im still of the mind that the kiss was an Issue. i definitely think it was meant out of love and desperation, and out of possibly being a goodbye. this would echo the hypothetical s3-1941 kiss... but it was hurtful. it was abrupt, and harsh, and not at all romantic (imo). it was possessive, and almost cruel. i do think still it was a last ditch attempt, a temptation, to get aziraphale to change his mind, before crowley leaves the shop and returns to the 'real world'. but it hurts aziraphale in many different ways - but with 1941 put in there, too? crowley is just testing his resolve, trying to push him, come around to giving in. crowley asked him to forgive him the last time he kissed aziraphale, and this time - this time, aziraphale is giving him what he asked for.

#did i just do a whole ass meta based off of a completely hypothetical non-existent hc of the third part of 1941? #yes - yes i did #but the Implications would not leave my brain #make of this what you will if you even got to the end and if you did frankly congratulations #good omens

[raccoonfallsharder]

I just found out Rockets VA can sing (really good actually) do you have any headcanons based on that?

mmmmm. sorry for the delay, i got distracted by rocket prompt week and also by thinking about rocket crooning in your ear.

he’s always humming, you know? (this is not a headcanon — it’s in the movies.) he’s often humming while he works. and that scene on berhert? where he’s sort of purring along with the music while plotting severe injury to the incoming ravagers? i…

sorry. focusing.

im sure the first few times you hear him mumbling lyrics under his breath, you damn near need to excuse yourself. you know you can’t call attention to it — in a best-case scenario, he'll stop singing entirely. you say nothing, and your silence is rewarded: rocket's mumbling a tune — so low your toes curl in your boots — almost whenever the two of you are working quietly on some project or another. most of the time, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. the rest of the time, he thinks you can’t hear him.

once, while the entire crew was dicking around in the common room and rocket started humming under his breath, pete had commented on it. you'd shot him a murderous look but it had been too late: rocket’s ears had gone flat and his tail had tucked between his ankles and his eyes had swiveled around the room. he'd been shifting and snapping out harsh words so frantically that you were sure he was scarlet under his fur. you’d had to go a miserable dozen cycles before you’d stumbled across him lilting low to himself again in the engine room one night.

fuckin pete. you still haven’t forgiven that guy.

but things get easier — at least between you and rocket — after that. there's a day when rocket looks up and realizes that you can hear him — maybe you're swaying slightly to the sound of his voice, or lightly tapping the soft pads of your fingertips like raindrops on your knee. he stumbles to a fumbling halt. you don’t say anything, though: you just pass him an encouraging half-smile before returning to whatever you were doing. you’ll hang out with him regardless of whether you get to lull yourself to the sound of his deep, pretty voice or not, you figure.

it happens again — and then again. and eventually, rocket stops stopping. he sees you walk into the otherwise-empty common area while he’s clanging away on some new cannon, or you slide into the seat next to him while he’s piloting the bowie alone — and he tosses you a little smirk and keeps going, keeps humming those bars or rumbling those words up over his ribs and out the corners of his mouth.

you’re not the first person he’s sung to, of course.

there’s a reason groot loves music. when he was just a sprout, rocket would carefully place groot's small pot right next to where he lay his own head, and he’d croon a lullaby from star-lord’s library of songs. this was how the little flora colossus first learned to fall asleep — and how he woke up — every rotation for the first dozen cycles of his life. even when groot got a little bigger and could leave his pot and run around chasing orloni, he’d still drift off sprawled on rocket’s shoulder or across the top of his head: dozing to the sound of his father clinking away on aero-rigs while humming some melody or another.

even before that — i think rocket probably sung to groot the elder, too, at least once or twice. maybe the first time rocket had seen the big guy lose his limbs, before he'd learned that they would grow back. rocket had promised tibius lark that he’d look out for the flora colossus, and now here's groot — mutilated and in pain. rocket had tried to soothe the groaning, moaning groot to sleep, wracked by guilt before eventually realizing the big idiot was just a giant frickin’ crybaby with limbs that would essentially regenerate.

still, rocket hadn’t minded singing to his friend too much after that.

maybe even earlier, too. maybe there had been a time, after explaining music to his cagemates but before telling them about flying machines. maybe he’d hummed for batch 89 too.

they would’ve thought his childish voice was the most comforting, lovely thing they’d ever heard, i think. sometimes, as you might guess, the members of batch 89 would have nightmares or be in too much pain to close their eyes and rest, and when those nights happened, rocket would have hummed them back to sleep, all low and slow and sweet.

floor would have begged for songs every chance she got. teefs would have marveled at how beautiful rocket had sounded, and lylla — lylla would have told him, very solemnly, that he had a gift.

rocket doesn't think about that very often — tries not to think about those days at all, if he's being honest — but eventually, as you know, his past comes out. it's long after he’s gotten comfortable with you, of course — and raised his son, and saved half the universe, and purchased the skull of a god, and freed himself from the high evolutionary for the last time, and become a captain, but now—

now, he remembers lylla's words.

the star children descend from the arête and different households try to take them in, but it only takes one or two failed sleep-shifts across all of knowhere before it becomes apparent that none of the kids can rest. the children have nightmares — of course they do — and they’re used to sleeping shoulder-to-shoulder with each other in cages, on hard floors. they're used to whispering stories and comforts to each other, listening gratefully to the quiet words of their siblings, small hands gripping small hands in the darkness.

it takes a while to figure out, but eventually arrangements are made — at least until the kids can adjust. spaces are shifted so the children can nest together, and it helps — mostly. drax tries telling stories. cosmo recommends warm milk. howard suggests a quarter-shot of ginsky for each kid (you promptly put the kibosh on that one). nebula comes one night to tell the kids in great detail how she’ll destroy anyone who dares to harm them. you’re so happy mantis went on her journey to find herself but sometimes, when you see how exhausted and hollow-eyed the kids are in the morning, you just wish she were back so she could help them sleep.

and then suddenly it's a few cycles later, and you realize you haven’t heard any more concerns about the kids’ night terrors. you look around and realize they’re bright-eyed again, cheeks glowing, chattering at breakfast. curious as to what ended up working — if it was the indigarran lavender satchets sent by one of kraglin’s ex-wives or it it was the broker boring them with the droning details of the histories of various artifacts he’d once had in his shop on Xandar — you come visiting one night on tip-toe, just to check in.

rocket’s there — curled up on an old armchair someone had brought in for the neverending parade of storytellers and caregivers. his voice rolls over the sleepy children, and their eyelashes droop while he lingers on some notes and skips up and down others. the sound of it curls around them — and you. his voice nestles into the shadows, practically plucking up the edges of the blankets and tucking the kids in all on its own.

you watch as, handful after handful, they drift: eased deeply into dreaming by the power and protection of the captain’s voice, all on its own.

#rfh headcanons #rfh fluff #rocket raccoon #rocket raccoon headcanons #rocket raccoon fanfic #rocket raccoon fanfiction #rocket raccoon fluff #rocket raccoon x reader #gotg fanfiction #gotg rocket #rocket gotg #rocket raccoon x you #rocket racoon x reader #rocket x you #guardians of the galaxy fanfiction #guardians of the galaxy #mcu #marvel

[cryptidclaw]

Cryptidclaw's WC Prefixes List!

Yall said you were interested in seeing it so here it is! 

This is a collection of mostly Flora, Fauna, Rocks, and other such things that can be found in Britain since that’s where the books take place! 

I also have other Prefixes that have to do with pelt colors and patterns as well!

Here’s a link to the doc if you dont want to expand a 650 word list on your Tumblr feed lol! the doc is also in my drive linked in my pined post!

below is the actual list! If there are any names you think I should add plz tell me!

EDIT: I will update the doc with new names as I come up with them or have them suggested to me, but I wont update the list on this post! Plz visit my doc for a more updated version!

Animals

Mammal

Badger

Bat

Bear

Beaver

Bison

Boar

Buck

Calf

Cow

Deer

Elk

Fawn

Ferret

Fox

Goat

Hare

Horse

Lamb

Lynx

Marten

Mole

Mouse

Otter

Rabbit

Rat

Seal

Sheep

Shrew

Squirrel

Stoat

Vole

Weasel

Wolf

Wolverine

Amphibians

Frog

Newt

Toad

Reptiles

Scale

Adder

Lizard

Snake

Turtle

Shell

Birds

Bird

Down

Feather

Albatross

Bittern

Buzzard

Chaffinch

Chick

Chicken

Coot

Cormorant

Corvid

Crane

Crow

Curlew

Dove

Duck

Dunlin

Eagle

Egret

Falcon

Finch

Gannet

Goose

Grouse

Gull

Hawk

Hen

Heron

Ibis

Jackdaw

Jay

Kestrel

Kite

Lark

Magpie

Mallard

Merlin

Mockingbird

Murrelet

Nightingale

Osprey

Owl

Partridge

Pelican

Peregrine

Petrel

Pheasant

Pigeon

Plover

Puffin

Quail

Raven

Robin

Rook

Rooster

Ruff

Shrike

Snipe

Sparrow

Starling

Stork

Swallow

Swan

Swift

Tern

Thrasher

Thrush

Vulture

Warbler

Whimbrel

Wren

Freshwater Fish 

Fish

Bass

Bream 

Carp

Dace

Eel

Lamprey

Loach

Minnow

Perch

Pike

Rudd

Salmon

Sterlet

Tench

Trout

Roach

Saltwater fish and other Sea creatures (would cats be able to find some of these? Probably not, I don't care tho)

Alge

Barnacle

Bass (Saltwater version)

Bream (Saltwater version)

Brill

Clam

Cod

Crab

Dolphin

Eel (Saltwater version)

Flounder

Garfish

Halibut

Kelp

Lobster

Mackerel

Mollusk

Orca

Prawn

Ray

Seal

Shark

Shrimp

Starfish

Sting

Urchin

Whale

Insects and Arachnids

Honey

Insect

Web

Ant

Bee

Beetle

Bug

Butterfly

Caterpillar

Cricket

Damselfly

Dragonfly

Fly

Grasshopper

Grub

Hornet

Maggot

Moth

Spider

Wasp

Worm

Trees

Acorn

Bark

Branch

Forest

Hollow

Log

Root

Stump

Timber

Tree

Twig

Wood

Alder

Apple

Ash

Aspen

Beech

Birch

Cedar

Cherry

Chestnut

Cypress

Elm

Fir

Hawthorn

Hazel

Hemlock

Linden

Maple

Oak

Pear

Poplar

Rowan

Redwood

Spruce

Willow

Yew

Flowers, Shrubs and Other plants

Berry

Blossom

Briar

Field

Flower

Leaf

Meadow

Needle

Petal

Shrub

Stem

Thicket

Thorn

Vine

Anemone 

Apricot

Barley 

Bellflower

Bluebell

Borage

Bracken

Bramble

Briar

Burnet

Buttercup

Campion

Chamomile

Chanterelle

Chicory

Clover

Cornflower

Daffodil

Daisy

Dandelion

Dogwood

Fallow

Fennel

Fern

Flax

Foxglove

Furze

Garlic

Ginger

Gorse

Grass

Hay

Heather

Holly

Honeysuckle

Hop

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Juniper

Lavender

Lichen

Lilac

Lilly

Mallow

Marigold

Mint

Mistletoe

Moss

Moss

Mushroom

Nettle

Nightshade

Oat

Olive

Orchid

Parsley

Periwinkle

Pine

Poppy

Primrose

Privet

Raspberry

Reed

Reedmace

Rose

Rush

Rye

Saffron

Sage

Sedge

Seed

Snowdrop

Spindle

Strawberry

Tangerine

Tansy

Teasel

Thistle

Thrift

Thyme

Violet

Weed

Wheat

Woodruff

Yarrow

Rocks and earth

Agate

Amber

Amethyst

Arch

Basalt

Bounder

Cave

Chalk

Coal

Copper

Dirt

Dust

Flint

Garnet

Gold

Granite

Hill

Iron

Jagged

Jet

Mountain

Mud

Peak

Pebble

Pinnacle

Pit

Quartz

Ridge

Rock

Rubble

Ruby

Rust(y)

Sand

Sapphire

Sediment

Silt

Silver

Slate

Soil

Spire

Stone

Trench

Zircon

Water Formations

Bay

Cove

Creek

Delta

Lake

Marsh

Ocean

Pool

Puddle

River

Sea

Water

Weather and such

Autumn

Avalanche

Balmy

Blaze

Blizzard

Breeze

Burnt

Chill

Cinder

Cloud

Cold

Dew

Drift

Drizzle

Drought

Dry

Ember

Fall

Fire

Flame

Flood

Fog

Freeze

Frost

Frozen

Gale

Gust

Hail

Ice

Icicle

Lightening

Mist

Muggy

Rain 

Scorch

Singe

Sky

Sleet

Sloe

Smoke

Snow

Snowflake

Soot

Sorrel

Spark

Spring

Steam

Storm

Summer

Sun

Thunder

Water

Wave

Wet

Wind

Winter

Celestial??

Comet

Dawn

Dusk

Evening 

Midnight

Moon

Morning

Night

Noon

Twilight

Cat Features, Traits, and Misc. 

Azure

Beige

Big

Black

Blonde

Blotch(ed)

Blue

Bounce

Bright 

Brindle

Broken

Bronze

Brown

Bumble

Burgundy

Call

Carmine

Claw

Cobalt

Cream

Crimson

Cry

Curl(y)

Dapple

Dark

Dot(ted)

Dusky

Ebony

Echo

Fallen

Fleck(ed)

Fluffy

Freckle

Ginger

Golden

Gray

Green

Heavy

Kink

Knot(ted)

Light

Little

Lost

Loud

Marbled

Mew

Milk

Mottle

Mumble

Ochre

Odd

One

Orange

Pale

Patch(ed)

Pounce 

Prickle

Ragged

Red

Ripple

Rough

Rugged

Russet

Scarlet

Shade

Shaggy

Sharp

Shimmer

Shining

Small

Smudge

Soft

Song

Speckle

Spike

Splash

Spot(ted)

Streak

Stripe(d)

Strong

Stump(y)

Sweet

Tall

Talon

Tangle

Tatter(ed)

Tawny

Tiny

Tough

Tumble

Twist

Violet

Whisker

Whisper

White

Wild

Wooly

Yellow

#cryptidclaw's warriors au #? #Im tempted to use these in the au #some characters deserve some more fun names hehe #rise of change #warrior cats #warrior cats design #warriors #warriors names #warriors naming #warriors prefixes

[cagesings]

tags; verses

*❈ ‣ nothing there sings not even my lark — ( v. canon )  

*❈ ‣ she’s in there with all these screeching gibbering maniacs — ( v. asylum )  

*❈ ‣ we run away and then all our dreams come true? — ( v. post )  

*❈ ‣ isn’t that her shadow on the wall? — ( v. alternate )  

*❈ ‣ are you discussing or fussing; or simply dreaming? — ( v. modern )  

*❈ ‣ i feared you’d never come — ( v. tba )  

*❈ ‣ if we lay a strong enough foundation we’ll pass it on to you — ( v. single mother )  

*❈ ‣ don’t need a ring for my finger just need a steady hand to hold — ( v. main. feat. heygutlcss )  

*❈ ‣ i’m right here beside you and i’ll stay there — ( v. affair. feat. heygutlcss ) 

*❈ ‣ one thing i can tell you is we got to be free — ( v. feat. honorhearted )

*❈ ‣ the world was my oyster but where was the pearl? — ( v. feat. iocaneimmune )  

*❈ ‣ she's been living in her white-bread world as long as anyone with hot blood can — ( v. hawkins )  

*❈ ‣ yesterday love was such an easy game to play; now i need a place to hide away — ( v. feat. soldwrecked )

#*❈ ‣ nothing there sings not even my lark — ( v. canon ) #*❈ ‣ with all these screeching gibbering maniacs — ( v. asylum ) #*❈ ‣ we run away and then all our dreams come true? — ( v. post ) #*❈ ‣ isn’t that her shadow on the wall? — ( v. alternate ) #*❈ ‣ are you discussing or fussing; or simply dreaming? — ( v. modern ) #*❈ ‣ i feared you’d never come — ( v. tba ) #*❈ ‣ it does not do well to dwell on dreams — ( v. wizarding world ) #*❈ ‣ if we lay a strong enough foundation we’ll pass it on to you — ( v. single mother ) #*❈ ‣ don’t need a ring for my finger just need a steady hand to hold — ( v. main feat. heygutlcss ) #*❈ ‣ i’m right here beside you and i’ll stay there — ( v. affair feat. heygutlcss ) #*❈ ‣ one thing i can tell you is we got to be free — ( v. feat. honorhearted ) #*❈ ‣ the world was my oyster but where was the pearl? — ( v. feat. iocaneimmune ) #*❈ ‣ she's been living in her white-bread world as long as anyone with hot blood can — ( v. hawkins ) #*❈ ‣ yesterday love was such an easy game to play; now i need a place to hide away — ( v. feat. soldwrecked ) #*❈ ‣ she’s in there with all these screeching gibbering maniacs — ( v. asylum )