#FirsTime

[ginger-bread-is-good]

CW: this little snippet discusses my thoughts on Everlark's first time, 18+ only

So I'd imagine like everyone else that it's kinda awkward, not uncomfortable but the way you would expect two virgin adults who have gone through lots of trauma to be for their first time.

I definitely do think that it would unlock something in them after their firstime, even with Peeta who would know a little bit more as his brothers described in detail to him what sex is like, still becomes insatiable like Katniss.

I also think she would basically alert everyone in D12 the next morning, people can just tell by the look on her face what went down. The subtle pride on Peetas face is not subtle at all and people either clap him on the back or refuse to look at them.

Along with that I think it's funny to imagine Peeta panicking about Kat bleeding for their first time (I know it doesn't happen to everyone but whatev), and basically running rampant in his mind if he hurt her.

And lastly, the whole of D12 chips in to get Haymitch earmuffs, cos they know these bitches ain't gonna be quiet

[amethystdoessillystuff]

Wowee

I've never had Tumblr before, trying it out

[theeartovct3]

Good Hello,

As I take more pictures of Ashley's new and old artwork, I shall post them quickly.

In the meantime, here is a animation gif she tried.

[exavier-hindess-1998]

FirsTime & Co. Emmett Shiplap Wall Clock, White(Plastic)

[jolly-at-nite]

Cherish me, Cherish him.

I don't know why it is so incredibly hurtful to me. Why it strikes my heart the way it does. Why my soul drops a little, when our son is screaming.

That deep guttural cry he does, when his voice dies out to a hoarse crackling sound. The one cry we both detest bc he turns another color and his tiny body gets all stiff.

The one you know creates so much stress in you, and fear within me. The one I told you, I hate. The one he was doing when as I am sitting on the bed struggling to calm him down, and I see you turn your back to me and continue to sleep.

I don't know why at that moment I felt like crying. Or why I felt like crying when I awoke you earlier bc I was overwhelmed and over stimulated and I told you that I didn't know why he was still crying.

How at that moment I was panicking and I was venerable, for the first time, I tried to reach out to you about how I wish you would help me more, with less words.

I looked at you with blurry vision, I needed your help. And you asked me if I can make him a bottle.

I knew it then.

I struggled to carry out angry baby in my sore and really weak hands, my legs burning they too grow weary. I walked into the bathroom and look into the sink and every single one of his bottles laid there scattered dirty in the porcelain.

I knew I will never again no matter how much I struggle. How much I cry when our son is finally asleep in my arms. That I will never reach out to you again. I will let you rest and sleep.

And I will tend to my, our son alone during this nights and all day. And to appease you and your parents, I will get up and cook for you guys too and I will go through the motions of eating although, my hunger has died. Although the taste of food is growing ever numb in my tongue.

And even though I don't sleep nor am I getting sleep to the point that my head is light and I am dizzy. I will let you sleep and I will not utter a single word of help to you. Bc you are just like them mine love, you are just like everyone in my life who depends on me to help support them but I am objectively forgotten.

We have this routine. I stay awake with our son all night till 2 am when it's your "shift". Where you are supposed to get up and watch our son until you leave for work at 630.

Lately, I and you know this, I am awoken every time but our sons screams and I look over and he is in your arms. Why is he crying in your arms? Why when you know I haven't slept are you not actively trying to sooth him? Why is it at 3 or at 4, or at 5 that I have to force my pained body up from bed to take our son from you to sooth him myself?

And you say to me "I'm sorry", what? You're sorry? Again? Again?! I tell you, rock him, stand up and rock him. Hold him to your chest. He is still screaming and crying and you are just looking at him do this?

And I awake again, and I ask for my, our son and I out him to my chest and you say, " I tried that", and I bounce him and our son stops screaming. And he lays his head into my chest and he goes to sleep.

And then I hear you snore. And I have to stay awake until you wake up at 730 and leave to work.

And I stay at home, and I lay our son down and he sleeps and I try to sleep but there are calls coming in for our son and for myself. And I have to take the dogs outside, and I have to change the dirty sheets, and I have to eat at least sometime so I don't see that disappointed look and hear that disappointed tone in your voice.

And I struggle to sleep during the day. Between our sons short naps and our dogs demanding attention and our room going to disarray and me caring for other people in my family.

And my anxiety is eating away at me, and I want to sleep but I can't. And I am deteriorating infront of your eyes but I smile bc the weight of worrying you and your empty concern is just as painful.

I am tired.

[pouli-aschojja12]

First time participating. Just happy ☺️

[vallapensante]

No quiero sentir. No quiero sentir. No quiero sentir.

....

[sonka]

[hamatoredraphael]

Someone un-red eared leo, and he's panicking.

Eh, Im sure he's just bein a drama queen as usual. Letme guess, he's complainin' about 'is face man repu- reptu- reputation?

[ginger-bread-is-good]

Time for another random fic idea for Everlark, today it is Hunter!Katniss X Vegan or non human eating!Wendigo!Peeta

In Panem AU but no games

Basically Peeta is a Wendigo but a nice one 🥰, in myth I believe they crave human flesh but I'm unsure if they become full fledged carnivores, if they do I'm gonna retcon that fact. Anyways Peeta becomes a Wendigo after his mother attacks him leaving him fatally wounded, one of the ways someone can become a Wendigo is through intense conditions so I'm gonna assume this counts.

The general idea that Katniss notices Peeta is missing, girlie would unintentionally watch him throughout school and notice he wasn't there, during a hunting expedition Kat hears the wendigos screech, now Katniss would only recognise this from when her father taught her this when she was really young so it isn't until later that night that she remember his lesson. She returns the next day only to find nothing out of sorts, however another clique spawns and a storm approaches, she is forced to stay at the cabin beside the lake which is already being used by Peeta, once she gets there she notices the markings of someone using it recently but realises she doesn't have much of a choice with the storm.

Peeta comes back after he tried hunting for food but being raised in a bakery didn't leave time for foraging tips, when he gets there Katniss is already asleep but she wakes up from her sleeping in an unknown location, Katniss would react in composed hysteria while Peeta would try to calm her down, he would change back into his human form confusing her even more. The result being Katniss wondering how the sweet baker turned into a flesh eating monster, where she then learns from Peeta the details of what happened and how Peeta keeps stating that he refuses to eat human flesh.

Throughout the night they echange stories and get to know eachother, after the storm passes Katniss helps hunt for her and Peeta so he doesn't starve to death, the ensuring agreement being that Katniss helps teach him to hunt while she in return gets a Wendigo bestfriend. Once Katniss understand her feelings for him I would assume she would be hesitant to say anything but from some goading from Prim who only knows she has a crush on someone she finally tells him her true feelings.

Once they become a couple I would like to think that Peeta becomes slightly more possessive of her than he would normally be, not in the sense that he would stop her but that others trying to flirt or be with her ignites his possessive side easily, this is due in part from him practically being part animal. Katniss would also like to introduce Peeta back into D12 by saying that he hid out in the forest where he hunted for food and fell in love with her, but some people especially the few hunters would be sceptical of him, especially with the screeching that is sometimes heard.

Now the ending, Katniss and Peeta probably marry eachother now that his life is known again, potentially someone like Gale might figure out he is a Wendigo and try to kill Peeta to 'save' Katniss, because from his point of view Peeta is a monster. This could either be resolved quietly with Katniss explaining things to Gale or have Gale tell the town and have Katniss force them to kill her along side Peeta if they wish to hurt him, forcing them to listen to her. In the end they renovate the log cabin at the lake and as the lack of birth control options is apparent in Panem they would have children early on, maybe around age 19 or higher, but regardless they love their child and the future ones to come and live happily ever after mwah.

[selenicdreamer]

Here’s to dreaming

A Feysand one shot that I just thought of and couldn’t help myself. Im not a good writer and English isn’t my native language so pls dont hate me:) enjoy

Possibly will have errors, didnt edit plus its like 1am

I got carried away, this is kinda long:3 sorryxx

She heard it again, the soft and slow melody across her apartement wall.

She’d never admit it to herself but every morning she woke up she would long for the sun to set, for the light to go out of the sky to make way for the night. For that time alone in the studio of her apartment just to paint, away from the rush of the day, the buzz of the crowd and the headache of what her life has been. Her mind would drift to the empty canvas ahead and just paint, create. Though after her break up with her ex, her trouble with her family and all her financial issues, she found herself just sitting across the white surface staring for hours and hours before just leaving it as it was and calling it a day. Some days she would hold the brush and stare at it for hours before placing it back in its case, others she would just cry and cry and throw things in frustration. She couldn’t paint. So after a couple of months she gave up, she would just sit on her stool, hold her brush so tightly she would pierce her own skin with her fingernails and stare. She was so lost in the fog of her own mind that when the music started playing the first time she nearly toppled over her stool and dropped her paintbrush to the floor. The piano chords and notes were drifting silently through her walls, almost melancholically she noticed. She stayed there and listened for hours, silently piercing the wall with her gaze as if she could strip the paint and brick apart to make the music louder. When it stopped she just sat down by the stool and cried, she cried so much she never had before. Why? She didn’t know.

The following day she walked in, fuzzy socks against the wooden floor and sat again in her stool. She waited, five minutes, ten, thirty. There it was, the melancholic piano and the feelings it awoke in her. She wanted to paint, she wanted to capture what it was she thought the person was trying to say with their music. She took a deep breath and just started, slowly with shaky hands, a night sky full of stars and a white piano in a flowery patio being played by almost invisible hands. That was it, her first painting in months. As she finished she couldn’t help the small smile that reached her face, she’s done it, took her more than a week but she’s done it! After months of pain and endless tiredness she finally did something she was proud of, thanks to the piano stranger.As she let the paint to dry and took this time to get a refreshment her mind couldn’t help but hover over the stranger that played such beautiful music it made her feel alive again. That night she dreamed of the music

“I’m telling you, I can’t go do this without you for real, It’s like torture” Mor protested dramatically while leaning on Feyre’s kitchen counter, her golden locks tied securely behind her ears and her coffee in hand as she stared at her with despair Feyre almost laughed,

“And I’m telling you I can’t go back to the same yoga place my ex boyfriend and the instructor fucked in, Feyre cringed, I can’t even begin to think of the look in her face without wanting to bury myself from embarrassment and resentment” she groaned as she kept her focus on the laptop ahead of her, she had to finish that work project sooner than later and she wanted to be free for her special time.

“Do you think I’m some sort of monster?” Her new friend blinked as if offended, “I only meant we should find a new place together, Im not going there again without you! I just did today to rub in their face how much better off you are and to cancel our subscription” Feyre huffed and rolled her eyes, Mor for the little Feyre knew her, was a drama queen, a really good friend but a drama queen. Still being so lonely she was more than grateful to have her in her life. That Yoga place did cause her break up since she found Tamlin, her ex, and her teacher hooking up on a yoga mat but Its not all that bad since it brought Mor and her together.

“By the way where did I leave my jacket the other day? Em has been asking for it since I stole it from her” Mor looked around,her face slightly blushing at the mention of her girlfriend and Feyre hid the icing bitterness at the back of herthroat, bitterness for her pathetic life, never her friend. “Uh check in my bedroom, probably left it while we were trying on clothes” she said but failed to notice that Mor walked in her painting studio before she heard her gasp and her name coming out from her mouth. She immediately stood up and run towards her her fingers rubbing on her temple trying to find a way to kick her out without looking like an idiot.

“Feyre this… you’re incredibly talented” Mor’s eyes were as wide as ever as she kept staring at all her paintings slowly then stopped at her most recent one, her small gasp nearly audible to her.

“Please, it’s just barely sketching, let’s not talk about it” she hurriedly said moving her arms and hinting towards the door,

“Could I buy this one?” Feyre’s heart dropped to her feet she had to look down to make sure it was there,

“What?” She found herself ask,

“Could I buy this one?” Mor repeated her eyes locked to her painting of her neighbour, “my cousin is going to love it, he told me he recently moved so this will be the perfect housewarming gift. I haven’t even seen the place yet” she turned to look at her, her eyes pleading,

Feyre kept staring at her and the painting trying to decide, this was a huge chance for her, her career and she didn’t want to say no to her friend. Though insecurity kept eating her mind what if he hates it and then Mor hates her and-

“Oh please Feyre! He loves playing music he is going to fall in love with this” Feyre then just nodded barely and gulped chuckling when Mor hugged her suddenly, her words just flooting over her head as she wrapped the painting for her, receiving way too much money that Mor insisted on handing her for it before she left.

In the following days Feyre’s mind was still so cluttered she couldn’t finish her project until the last minute,she didn’t even have time to paint for a week so when Sunday came around she hopped into her painting room and patiently waited for the music.

She waiting for so long that she thought she was going insane with boredom, the only thing she could hear was footsteps, heels and she could swear she could hear Mor’s laugh. Deciding she was insane she got up to get ready for bed, disappointed with how her night turned out but just as she was ready to change into pyjamas she heard a frantic knock at her door. Blinking she looked at the wall clock of her bedroom, 12:00am

“Yes?” She said cautiously

“Feyre! Open the door! You won’t believe this!” Mor’s voice rung in her ears, surprised she obeyed and saw her grinning face in a flash before she was grabbing her wrist and leading her out of her apartement and to the left hall,

“Uh Mor, would you kindly please inform me of the reason you’re kidnapping me at 12 in the morning?” She asked confused as they stopped to the apartement next to hers, Mor just banged on the door rudely which Feyre thought was insane until the door opened and her mind went blank,

Right in front of her was the most handsome man she’s ever seen, tall with broad shoulders, silk black hair and eyes such a dark blue she thought could pass as purple. His bronze skin dressed in all black shirt and trousers, his smirk making him utterly and completely devastating to look at. His eyes were so fiercely gazing at her she forgot how to speak, breathe or think

“This is my friend Feyre I’ve been telling you about! She is the one who painted this! Plus she literally lives right next to you!” Mor laughed shaking her head, “that stuff literally is impossible to happen.” She walked in like she belonged right in, which to be fair she did, and kept talking and talking but Feyre and her cousin just stayed at the doorway looking at each other, then his smirk turned into a smile “Feyre,” she shivered, his voice could only be described as the midnight sky, “I am glad to find out I have such interesting and art inclined neighbours” he all but purred before extending his hand to her, “Rhysand, please call me Rhys” Rhys Rhys Rhys

“Nice to meet you Rhys” she shakes his hand trying to hide her anxious state, “come in Feyre darling” she slowly walked in trying not to pass out looking around his apartment, it was the same as hers, a living room connecting with a small kitchen and three closed doors, two to the left one to the right and a huge window up ahead.

“Nice place, I like your decoration” she says softly standing next to Mor,

“Thank you, I think more paintings are due if you’d like to bless me with some” he grins leaning back against the wall

“Shoot, I have to go, Mor stands up hurriedly checking on her phone, Em needs me to pick her up from the library, catch you guys later” she kisses Feyre’s cheek before she storms off and Feyre is left awkwardly standing in a stranger’s house, handsome stranger but stranger nonetheless. She looks at him and he has a curious look on his handsome face, Feyre clears her throat. “Well I should be on my way, nice to meet you Rhysand” she said politely before walking towards the door,

“Wouldn’t you like to see where I put your painting Feyre?” He asks soflty, velvetly looking at her, not waiting for an answer before he starts walking towards one of the doors to the left smirking at her before he walks in, curiously she follows and as he turns off the small lights by the door Feyre’s eyes widen gazing at a huge piano in the centre of an otherwise empty room, safe for the painting on the left wall, the wall she realizes that connects their apartments, Rhys is the piano guy, Rhys Mor’s cousin is the piano guy, Rhys who lives next door is Mor’s cousin and is the piano guy, Rhys who now has her painting of the piano guy that is Rhys who is Mor’s cousin and lives right next door- her mind is spiriling down a hill of panic and she’s just standing there staring at the piano trying not to bolt out the room,

“Do you like music Feyre?” He softly asks as he glances at her before taking a seat, opening the lid and his hands trace slowly and softly at the keys, she thinks she can’t breathe when he starts playing, the same slow yet full of life melody she heard the first day, that very first song that made her heart beat with purpose again, with a longing for life. She swallowed the sob that nearly broke through her and she nodded realizing he isn’t looking at the keys but at her, “I love music yes especially this piece, did you write it?” She asks looking at his hands, trying to stay focused, he grins his eyes sparkling

“Yes, yes I did, how does it make you feel?” He asks curiously looking at her as he keeps playing, skilled enough to not needing to look over

“Alive” she whispers not able to take her eyes off of him as he stands up and walks to her, his hand now as gently as before lifting her chin up so their eyes meet,

“Alive” he agrees before bowing down to graze his lips against hers, their eyes closing as they connect and the world falls into place, her hands moving to touch his shoulders, his to cup her cheeks and Feyre was sure she could still hear the music as he smiled against her lips.

“Here’s to living” he whispers grinning

“Here’s to dreaming” she replies before kissing him again.

[jolly-at-nite]

A Little Good. A Little bad, worst Anxiety.

O how gauntly, how relaxed. How poised, you even chuckled.

Yes, I am sleepy. Yes my eyes hurt, and they burn. And Yes, yesterday was a better day.

Yes, I did break down and cry in the car after my appointment. Yes, I did a good job at holding it in.

Yes, I was overwhelmed and anxiety ridden.

Yes, I've refrained from taking medication out of concern of the quality of my breastmilk.

Yes, I managed to pull myself out from the back seat to help you, after I asked you to help me by changing his diaper.

Yes, I fed him while he screamed and I struggled to normalize my breathing. Air would not stay in my lungs. Panic did.

Yes, last night I let you sleep again. You have to go to work, I need to make sure, you're the healthiest of the two.

I struggle to pump consistently. I still get milk. Less than when I first started but no matter its something I can have to myself. I can achieve with out help. It's mine.

2 am. I can't go any longer without sleep. I fed him an hour ago. He's still screaming and rooting. I pump. 30 ml. I'm happy.

Yes, I awoke you. I needed to. I could not go any longer. I tried.

I asked you to feed him. He is hungery. He is screaming. I show you the bottle. Purple lid. Smaller different from the pump bottle.

You feed him. I sleep. You wake me up, at 530 am. He is screaming. You ask if the breast milk is in the bottle, I hesitate.

Surely he doesn't mean the pump bottle from a day ago. The one he has obviously seen sitting there. It's the only bottle that's been sitting there with the pump attachments still on. Surely he knows that milk is expired and bad. Surely. Undoubtedly. I did doubt but I was sleepy and not mentally checked in completely.

I answer. It's the one in the bottle, the 30 ml one. The one I showed you like hours ago. The one that's completely different from the pump bottle in size. Not connected to pump accessories.

I go back to sleep wearily. Surely, undoubtedly.

You wake me up at 630. You leave for work. Our baby stirs. He coos. He whimpers. He is hungery. I mix a bottle. Formula. I notice the pump bottle empty, the accessories dismantled.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

My anxiety returns. I am riddled with it. I am consumed completely. Again.

I can't breathe. Is this real?

Yes I call you. I'm scared, hesitant and nervous. My stomach hurts. My muscles hurt. My heart hurts. I don't want to know. I need to know. Did you?

Yes, you did. You fed our 2 month old the expired breast milk that sat out. In plain view for you the entire length of the day.

The one that sat there while you used the bathroom. While you brushed your teeth. When you went in to throw away a dirty diaper. Thay was always there, in its obviously loud contraption of pumping.

Yes, you admit you fed him that one. You say you asked me. You asked me. Your love, who has gotten consistently 4 or less hours of sleep. The one who showed you the bottle measured out with the 30 ml of breast milk.

Yes, you say shrug it off. You even chuckle as you're driving down the road to your job. And now you have blessed me with the anxiety I wish I never had since birth and the one I never miss. The one that cripples my days and nights, my being.

The one I have cried to you about. You gave me that today. I will not sleep, how can I? I have to make sure our son is ok. Every twitch, every painful whimper or coo made in discomfort will terrorize my peace of mind. Every scream and every cry will freeze and conjure my panic into every fiber of my being.

And I have to go through this alone. Singular again in my panicked induced delirium, without sleep. Without rest, with all the heaviness of the long days and excruciating longer nights.

My right turned into a wrong.

[bunchofroses07]

if we are mutuals i hope that you know that you make me nervous because i love you a lot and i think ur the coolest person in the world

[adetheenby]

summary:

Toralei accidentally texts Clawdeen and that ends in them sewing Toralei's look for the monsterball (and maybe Clawdeens look too:) )

[guest1300]

doesn't know it's possible for it to exist

knows it's possible that it exists but has no awareness of its existence

is aware of its existence but knows nothing other than that it exists

is aware of its existence and of superficial details

knows it decently well in passing

is reasonably well-versed in understanding of it

knows enough about it to be a noteworthy interest or hobby

is likely a hobby expert or professional in it

is a leading expert in it, enough to be noteworthy to anyone who cares about it

arcane knowledge

we need one of those pain rating scale charts but for knowledge, like so:

1-blissfully ignorant

10-painfully aware in excruciating detail